Category: Guns

Oh, eat me

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 10 Comments
Levi’s in the sky with dust clouds.

The wind is out of the southwest at 23 mph with gusts to twice that, the sky is the color of old sun-bleached denim, and the McShooter is back on the menu at McMedia.

That’ll give ’em something to chew on for a while, hah?

This latest assassination suspect’s chances of getting a fair trial anywhere other than the dark side of the moon evaporated between last night’s Magical Mystery Meat at the Hinckley Hilton and this morning’s Eggs McMurder at the drive-thru of your choice.

His Excremency King Piggy the Sticky-fingered reveals that there is a “manifesto,” because of course there is. A template is included in every Junior Assassin kit, and AK-A.I.™ can flesh out the deets for the bombastically challenged.

The Pestilence and his Merry Men were “likely” targets, opines the acting attorney general. As though his predecessor weren’t merely acting too, albeit on a dinner-theater level, if your dinner theater features servers with paper hats and that drive-thru mentioned earlier. Don’t hang by fishhooks through the nips while waiting for those Tony noms, kids.

I mean, like, shit, c’mon. What’s newsworthy is that someone isn’t trying to kill this guy every day of the week and twice on Sunday. If he were a dog with these behavioral issues and track record a no-kill animal-rescue shelter run by vegan Buddhist nuns would’ve dropped the pill on him when it became clear he just wasn’t gonna stop eating toddlers.

I won’t advocate for it, but if it happens, the first words out of my mouth are likely to be something along the lines of what the Schofield Kid said to William Munny. And what Will said to the Kid applies, too.

Another day, another shooter

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 12 Comments
“Welcome to the hotel, California. … hey, wait, he’s got a gun!”

I was visiting The Associated Press website, checking out the security-cam video of our latest alleged would-be pestilential assassin dashing through the Washington Hilton towards the annual White House Correspondents’ Association Wank-Fest & Spooge-a-Thon, when the video snippet served me up an ad:

“Breeze through tax season … with Acrobat AI Assistant.”

Well. Fuck me running. Ain’t that just the way it is? Some things will never change.

Dude was definitely breezing through, with what was reported to be quite the toolkit — “The suspect was carrying knives, a shotgun and a handgun, officials said,” according to The New York Times — and quien sabe? Maybe tax season was on his mind. He may have simply wanted to consult with The Pestilence and his lesser maladies about how best to dodge his fair share of the ever-heavier burden the dozy orange sonofabitch is imposing upon us day in and day out.

In any event, as this flag-pinned plague shambles ever on and on, lying through its false teeth like any other dementia victim denying at the top of what remains of his lungs that he has yet again shit the bed, I am less and less inclined to take at face value anything I read with the qualifier “officials said” attached. I have stayed in many a Hilton over the years, occasionally with a loaded firearm, and more than once I have been sorely tempted to haul it out, if only to focus someone’s attention.

“When I booked this overpriced shithole I said I wanted a room as far away from the elevator and the ice machine as was humanly possible. Also, was the previous occupant grooming a chimpanzee in the shower? I’ve seen barber shops with less hair on the floor. And what’s with the goddamn Keurig instead of a proper coffeemaker? If you force me into going to a Starbucks at stupid-thirty for my morning fix, I swear to Dog. …”

Etc.

In any event, I awakened this morning — not in a Hilton, praise Dog — possessed of the certainty that this is not the last time we will read the words “shots fired” in connection with His Excremency King Piggy the Sticky-fingered. “Every nation has the government it deserves,” as the political philosopher Joseph de Maistre wrote in 1811.

A decade later, he wrote, “The sword of justice has no scabbard.”

Oh, mama …

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 22 Comments
It’s money that he loves.

They say that money 
Can’t buy love in this world 
But it’ll get you a half-pound of cocaine 
And a 16-year old girl 
And a great big long limousine 
On a hot September night 
Now that may not be love 
But it is all right. — Randy Newman, ‘It’s Money That I Love’

The Toddler-in-Chief wants to fire Jerome Powell again. Or still. Whatevs.

I guess a diet rich in Mickey D’s shitburgers, Adderall and defeat just doesn’t tighten the ol’ focus the way it once did.

Is this a pivot back to Making America Great Again? Like he did with grocery prices, gas prices, and the whole no-more-wars thing?

So. Much. Winning.

Take a nap, fuckface. We could all do with a little peace and quiet around here for a change.

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.