Category: Crime

Space oddity

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 3 Comments
“Good, good … now, bend over.”

More than a few folks in the media have expressed surprise that NASA’s reboot of a flyby round the moon hasn’t engaged more eyeballs.

Huh. Well. …

It could have something to do with the fact that we are at wa … pardon, on “an excursion” … in the Middle East. Again.

Or that a third-tier reality-TV character put us there, when he wasn’t busy cheating at golf, stenciling his accursed name on everything, and/or lying through his false teeth.

We’ve cracked the $4 mark here in ABQ.

Maybe the suckers that voted for him are too busy trying to squeeze their eyeballs back into their sockets after a glance at the latest gas prices, or a peek at his 2027 wish list for the Pentagon — $1.5 trillion, about a 40 percent jump from the last military-industrial goodie bag.

Can’t have guns and butter, of course, so better learn to like your toast dry. If you still have the bread to buy bread.

Me, I still like watching our tentative steps at space exploration. We caught the burn that took Artemis II — or Orion, Integrity, whatever the fuck this thing is called, Christ, no wonder nobody’s paying any attention to it — out of Earth’s orbit and toward the moon just before dinner last night. A missile launch that isn’t intended to kill someone, or a bunch of someones. Feature that, if you can.

So remember when you’re feeling very small and insecure, how very unlikely is your birth. And pray that there’s intelligent life somewhere up in space, ’cause there’s bugger-all down here on Earth.

Fuelishness 2: $3.89 for all my friends!

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 15 Comments
Valero: $3.89
Circle K: $3.89
Speedway: $3.89
DK: $3.89

Everyone’s on the same page along Tramway Boulevard.

Way back in the Glory Days of Monday — remember that fabulous Monday? — a happy Duck! City motorist could gas up for $3.39 or $3.59 per gallon, depending on his/her choice of station.

On Saturday … not so much.

The going rate for a gallon of go-juice on Tramway today is $3.89, from Lomas to San Bernardino. Affordability is on the march, and soon the American public will be legging it around and about, too.

Just wait until Addled Hitler sinks Kharg Island, a small coral island off Iran’s coast that according to The Associated Press is “the primary terminal through which nearly all of Iran’s oil exports pass.” The Guardian has a nifty explainer, too.

Petras Katinas, an energy researcher at the Royal United Services Institute who calls Kharg “the main node” of the Iranian economy, said that if Iran were to lose control of the island, it would be difficult for the country to function, even though the island isn’t a military or nuclear target.

“It doesn’t matter which regime is in power — new or old,” Katinas said.

Oh, good. This is like blowing up a 7-Eleven and replacing it with a Circle K, only the Circle K has empty shelves, fuel pumps that don’t work, no employees, and an angry mob forming in the cratered parking lot with weapons in various calibers and configurations, craving a word with management.

Send Whiskey Pete Kegsbreath out to restore order. He can show them his tats. They can show him their rat-a-tat-tats.

White-line fever

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 19 Comments
“I think I’ve seen this movie before. …” Photo by Thang Cao on Pexels.com

Good news! Americans weary of watching war in the desert (“Yawn … seen it!”) can change the channel to jungle combat as U.S. troops “advise” their counterparts in Ecuador.

Jaysis fuck, etc. Yanks just can’t stop lashing uncounted tonnage of “dumb dust” up their snouts, so we expand the War on Drugs to include “narco-terrorism” and start shipping Special Forces to Ecuador, which itself does not produce any nose whiskey but serves as a trafficking route.

I suppose it’s only a coincidence that what Ecuador does produce in quantity is — wait for it — oil.

Meanwhile, Sniffles the Clown keeps horning fat rails of Adderall to take his mind off that pepperoni pizza he’s baking on his neck, and that’s OK because he’s the Pestilence an’ shit, so keep it coming, bitches.

“For my friends, everything; for my enemies, the law. Also, and too, the Green Berets.”

Forrrrr’d, March!

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 9 Comments
“Just another day on the set, people. Lights, camera, action!”

From The New York Times (gift article):

From the moment he announced an extensive military attack against Iran by posting an edited social media video at 2:30 a.m. Saturday, President Trump made clear that he would be taking a different tone and approach than his wartime predecessors.

Mr. Trump did not scramble back to the White House from Mar-a-Lago, his private club and residence in Palm Beach, to oversee the U.S. and Israeli strikes. He did not deliver a televised address informing the public of the killing of Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, who was the nation’s supreme leader for nearly four decades.

Instead, the president capped an extraordinary day of U.S. aggression abroad by attending a glitzy fund-raising dinner at his club.

With this REMF at the top of the org’ chart the old joke applies more than ever: What’s the difference between the U.S. armed forces and Scouting America? The Scouts have adult leadership.

Maybe the headline should be “Forrrrrrr’d, Mar … a-Lago!”

Re: Nobel Peace Prize

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 11 Comments
Gen. Carl’s Jr. von Clownswitz: “War is neither a scientific game nor an international sport; it is an act of violence, characterized by destruction. Now where’s my cheeseburger?”

Should’ve given the feckin’ eejit his prize.

That lightweight bitch-slap to his tiny puckered hole of a mouth, coupled with The Supremes 86ing (well, 6-3ing) his insane tariffs scheme, and finally the shit ratings for his impromptu “Dope-rah” skit — a.k.a. the State of the Union — pretty much guaranteed he was going to pull the trigger on another half-baked, open-ended Charlie Fox in Iran so he can feel better about his poorly hung, pants-shitting, Adderall-addled, senile old self.

“Operation Fucking Shit Up: This Time We Mean It!” will annihilate Iran’s nuclear program, which was annihilated in the last go-round, except, oops, not. Bonus: It makes Congress look even more like Blanche DuBois and has every journo in the world working on a weekend.

Some people voted for this shit. Not me.

If I were running Cuba I might think about applying to become our 51st state — well, 52nd, behind Venezuela. Maybe 53rd if Mexico’s as quick on the draw as they were with “El Mencho.”

But that’s no guarantee of safety. Hair Füror has already shown he’s OK with invading U.S. territory and killing U.S. citizens if no one else is handy.

Incoming, baby. Duck and cover.