Archive for the ‘Crime’ Category

Monday fun day

October 30, 2017

Will Paul Manafort be wearing an orange jumpsuit for Halloween?

Not likely. He’s a white guy, a Person of Money who doesn’t even drive his own car. Such people have spokepersons and lawyers, and they can make bail with the loose change from underneath their limo seats.

Still, the game is afoot, as Holmes would say. Is that the baying of an infernal hound I hear?

Nope. Just some noisy mutt barking on Twitter.

Honky, please

July 19, 2016

OK, white people have been appropriating black culture since, like, forever, but this seems a little over the top.

If Michelle Obama were Big Mama Thornton, Melania Trump would be thinking twice about trying to snatch a sister’s purse.

You told me you was high class … but I could see through that.


February 11, 2016
Not exactly the Battle of the Bulge, was it? Unless you count the bulges at the portly patriots' American-flag belt buckles.

Not exactly the Battle of the Bulge, was it? Unless you count the bulges at the portly patriots’ American-flag belt buckles.

Could the Battle of the Budgies be coming to a peaceful resolution?

The Oregonian reports that the last holdouts at the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge in Oregon are ready to give themselves up, and that their patron saint, Cliven Bundy, was snatched up in Portland and faces charges from the 2014 debacle that triggered this whole clusterfuck.

Perhaps as they continue to enjoy the hospitality of the State at another venue these small fellows can take solace from a Longfellow, translating Friedrich von Logau:

Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small;

Though with patience he stands waiting, with exactness grinds he all.


Mutiny from stern to bow

January 3, 2016

Huh. If memory serves, when a bunch of smelly hippies, Injuns and uppity colored people tried pulling this seditious shit they got shut down right fast, shot all to be damn, jailed, and vilified for decades afterward.

Even candidates for office were derided for having “palled around” with them.

Ah, but I was so much older then. I’m younger than that now.


Black Friday indeed

November 27, 2015
A screen grab from video at the scene of a shooting rampage in Bibleburg.

A screen grab from video at the scene of a shooting rampage in Bibleburg.

“Black Friday” got a whole new meaning in Bibleburg today.

It’s certainly too early to speculate about motive, and probably too late to do anything about the shite job the Founders did on that Second Amendment, though we do have options in that regard.

But I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that for sure a whole bunch of folks got shot, again, and taking off our shoes at the airport, letting the NSA peek in our digital windows, and keeping Syrian refugees on the other side of the Big Water don’t seem to be keeping Americans safe from terrorism.

I bet a few people within rifle range of that Planned Parenthood center felt terrorized today. That’s one product we don’t need to import from overseas. Not even for Black Friday. We make it right here at home.

• Late update: The Dumbass is strong in this one. From The Gazette: “There was a moment this afternoon when a man walked up to the scene with a handgun strapped to his waist and ammunition vest around his chest. He appeared to be asking police if he could help. Officers told him to leave immediately because appearing at the scene while wearing firearms and that equipment was a bad idea.”

Can you hear us NOW?

December 17, 2013
Th' fuck you lookin' at?

Th’ fuck you lookin’ at?

Good news for those of us who don’t like Uncle Sammy listening to our phone calls just, ’cause, like, you know, freedom an’ shit — a federal district judge ruled Monday that the National Security Agency’s perma-tap is likely an “almost Orwellian” violation of the U.S. Constitution.

According to The New York Times, Judge Richard J. Leon stayed his injunction “in light of the significant national security interests at stake in this case and the novelty of the constitutional issues,” giving the gummint time to appeal, which could take six months or more.

But the judge said as part of a 68-page ruling that the gummint had failed to cite “a single instance in which analysis of the N.S.A.’s bulk metadata collection actually stopped an imminent attack, or otherwise aided the government in achieving any objective that was time-sensitive.”

MoJo’s Kevin Drum notes that “district court judges make lots of rulings that never go anywhere, and this is mostly likely one of them.” But he likes that a judge wants this bullshit to stop, and so do I.

Screen saver

November 27, 2013
Refurbished monitor

Good as new.

I’ve committed a grave crime against capitalism.

My old ViewSonic monitor started acting up a while ago. It wouldn’t reliably wake from sleep, and sometimes I had to turn it on and off a half dozen times to get it to work more or less reliably.

A consultation with good old Mr. Google found that monitors from a wide variety of outfits have been getting sideways due to bum capacitors. A competent electronics type probably could have cracked the case and fixed it himself, but we’re talking about me here.

So, rather than bundle up and camp outside the Best Buy in hopes of knuckle-dusting my way to a new one at a door-busting, unbelievable, rock-bottom, low, low price, I hauled the old one over to Voelker Research and had it fixed.

I feel so … dirty.

One bomb deserves another

April 15, 2013

The best advice I’ve seen so far about the bombings in Boston comes from Ed Kilgore at Political Animal:

“If you live in Boston, stay home until things are better sorted out. If you live elsewhere, try to avoid jumping to any conclusions.”

Word. On a related note, I suppose it’s too soon to make a joke about how we’re all gonna have to take off our shoes before we’re allowed to run our next marathon.*

* As an ink-stained wretch of long standing I assume that this bit of black humor or some variation thereof hit the nation’s newsrooms before the smoke cleared.

Cops ‘n’ robbers

March 12, 2013

Yesterday a neighbor came home from visiting a friend to find a surprised burglar in his house, pointing his own .38 Special at him. I’d call that a Monday times, oh, ’bout a thousand.

So we had cops out the wazoo for a spell, in cars, astride motorcycles, on foot, with dogs. Bupkis. The scumbag got away, as scumbags often do.

I went through our house, checking to make sure that all our various smokepoles were unloaded and the bullets stashed elsewhere, so that I can surprise anyone who points one at me by clocking him with a skillet.

Which once again raises the question: “Why the fuck do I have all these goddamn things in my house if I’m gonna draw down on a baddie with a skillet instead?”

Good question. One of these days I intend to answer it.

Meanwhile, Herself celebrated her (mumble-mumble)th birthday today. I sang her “Happy Birthday” twice and got her a new MacBook Pro to replace the abacus she had been using. She says I can live here for another year if I don’t get shot accidentally on purpose with one of my own guns.

The parting glass

January 16, 2013
The parting glass

A fine wine turned to vinegar.

Longtime fans of the DogS(h)ite know that we don’t do cable TV here.

We partook, briefly, in 2006, when I reasoned that I needed TV with all the fixin’s to help me help cover the 2006 Tour de France. When Floyd tripped the Dope-O-Meter® I jerked the cable out of the wall and that was that.

Now we have rabbit ears, a Blu-Ray disc player, and a Mac Mini for streaming video over the Innertubes. And watching TV has become arduous, as it should be. We can’t just punch a button on a remote and let the high-def bullshit wash over us like the incoming tide. It takes some thought, and that thought is usually, “I think I’d rather do something else.”

Which brings me to the impending multimedia extravaganza in which The One Ball To Rule Them All will bounce into Soaprah’s expansive lap to wallow in his own stink for a couple-three hours. It will be “broadcast” on Soaprah’s TV network, such as it is, and streamed simultaneously on her website, and I have decided that rather than bring the snark, live and in poison, I will shun both of those venues as though they were infested with vermin, which, come to think of it, they will be.

Fact of the matter is, I think I’d rather do something else.

I can see why The One Ball Etc. and George W. Custer got along so famously. There is not a gram of shame in either of the sons of bitches, and when not on the clock I will be pleased to listen to whatever they have to say when they say it under oath, with the threat of hard time hanging over them like Damocles’ sword. Because in a world with its collective head screwed down tight, the only cameras these two would face would be of the closed-circuit variety, and their only audience a sleepy guard.

Here’s a thought. Instead of giving The One Ball Etc. and Soaprah what they so desperately crave — attention, which in this world translates to money — why not give some money, or some time, to a worthwhile cause? Spend a couple hours walking dogs at your local Humane Society, wash dishes at a soup kitchen, fix a creaky bike for a kid.

Let ’em do their playacting before an empty house, and drink a toast to the eventual ringing down of the curtain in this theater of the absurd.