While screwing around online, I tripped over an empty bourbon bottle (remind me to go to the liquor store later on today) and when I picked myself up I discovered that I was right in the middle of Cheaper Than Dirt! (CTD)
Which in turn reminded me that I was a bit low on 5.56 NATO...
At this point I'm issuing my standard warning to all moonbats, left wing idiots, and anti-freedom zealots. Go someplace else, because you are not going to like what you read next.
One of my favorite bloggers is Wirecutter, over at Knuckledraggin My Life Away. If you haven't read him, find a free half-hour and go see him - he writes an excellent blog.
One recurring title from the Wirecutter is Psycho Chicks - We've All Had 'Em. Maybe, maybe not, but by the time you've hit forty if you haven't met one you aren't living right.
Now me, I'm old enough and wise enough to know better than to get mixed up with a psycho chick, but every once in a while even someone with my experience gets blindsided.
Warning: If you're some kind of feminazi whack job or a left wing tool or something - save yourself a lot of grief and Xanax by visiting your favorite loonie lefty site. Forget you ever came here. The rest of you can keep reading.
I haven't reviewed an artist in quite a while, so here we go. Ah, but don't forget the standard disclaimer! Not safe for children, not safe for work, do not use with wet or damp hands... and if you're a thin skinned precious little snowflake - the first paragraph will cause a mental meltdown.
As all of my regular readers (such as they are - few in number, percipient in culture) know that I rarely, if ever, discriminate. I hate everyone equally. I despise most political groups, and I execrate all but a select few social groups. I also subscribe to the practice of ignoring those habits and consuetudes which are not obvious, and which I would never practice myself as I find them abhorrent.
Keep reading as you like with the usual warning and disclaimer - adult oriented racist hate speech ahead, triggers and micro-triggers are deliberate, this missive includes racist hate speech, void where prohibited, no deposit no return, the sleeves will ride up with wear, and thin skinned SJWs and affiliated moonbats will be offended to the point of mandatory psychiatric treatment.
Standard Disclaimer: This content is not suitable for most work places, thin skinned moonbats, politically correct people, or anyone under 18 years of age who can't think for themselves and has no sense of humor. If you can't tolerate hate speech, don't read this.
I was all set to write about this, and the Old NFO beat me to it. Take a look and a read if you're so inclined, and remember you saw it here - or something.
But before you do, you need a little background. A lot of the people reading this hound already know this, and have known it since they were ten years old. Two things you have to know about beer to appreciate what's happening here:
There's money involved in every step, which should answer most questions. So - got that? Brewer, distributor, bar, consumer, DUI, domestic, Fraternity Toga Party, and eventually, drunk tank. Like always, there's money in it.
Now that we're all on the same page, looking at the same picture of Ms. Budweiser Light of 2022, here we go...
Any gun owner knows that the Bill of Rights is a great idea, and that the first amendment recognizes the freedom of speech. Here it is for those of you who require a crib sheet:
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press, or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
We, the freedom loving gun owners, also know that the second amendment trumps the first - because free speech is a great thing until you piss off the wrong person, then - well, keep reading if you've the time and mind to do so.
Standard Disclaimer: Many people will find the rest of this missive offensive, to which I say - good. Mission accomplished.
Last time we went to the range my AR-15 performed nicely. I didn't suffer any misfeeds and I managed to put my shots on the paper. I didn't get my fingers caught in the action, either. California Dave was with us, firing his Rock River AR-15 for the first time, and had similar luck. No misfeeds, no broken fingers. Big Mike, however, was not as fortunate.
Trigger Warning: All anti-freedom commies, liberals, SJWs, snowflakes, and other pre-verts can go read something else about someone else. My blog, my deliberate trigger events.
And, while I'm at it, may I remind you that around here men are men. We treat ladies with courtesy and respect.
I had an armed robbery very close to my home. Here are the particulars and my own commentary, which is not safe for snowflakes, LGBT - et cetera things, and children under ten.
I bought a Rock River AR-15 a few weeks ago, and finally had a chance to take it out to the range to see if it performs as advertised. Here are the results and commentary.
Caution: Anti-freedom commie loving liberals should stop reading as they value their sanity.
The questionably melodic cacophony you hear from upstage center is not a goat mating with a penguin. It's the infamous Fat Lady, and she's closing out the show.
Keep reading for an amusing yet offensive denouement of Migraine One.
Read the previous post if you haven't already. I got a call this morning, and stupid me, I answered it without thinking.
Migraine One.
The people who read this dog on an irregular basis, and who have done so for some number of years, will have heard of Migraine One. This is a multi-ex girlfriend that I started dating when I was 21 and finally got shut of when I was about 30. We had an on-again, off-again, relationship that could best be described as gasoline and matches. The real problem with Migraine One is that she's neurotic with psychotic episodes and a drinking problem.
Keep reading at your own risk, keeping the usual disclaimer in mind: void where prohibited, no deposit no return, the sleeves will ride up with wear, do not use near fire or flame, and thin skinned SJWs, special little snowflakes, and affiliated moonbats will be triggered to the point of emergency psychiatric treatment. I recommend Doctor Glen Filthie of Someplace, Canada.
In the year of Out Lord One-Thousand Nine-Hundred Ninety and Nine, I landed a contract with the state of South Dakota. My office was in Pierre, (pronounced peer, as in long walk off a short...), South Dakota. The regular building was being remodeled, so we got moved into a refurbished department store in downtown Pierre on East Capitol Avenue, which runs NW to SE. I was on the South side of the street Across the street was the State Capitol Building, Capitol Lake is a man made artesian lake, and further down (SE of the lake) is the governor's mansion.
Some silly bitch sent me an email a week ago, which I finally got around to reading. The title of the email is How madjackshack.blogspot.com's users can safely support BLM online
I admit I was feeling a little blue for the past few days. A kind of 'down in the dumps' feeling. Then I read the Old NFO's blog and cheered right up.
This is old news, but I wanted the event to reach some kind of conclusion before I wrote about it. The standard disclaimer applies.
Unless you've been dead drunk the past week or so, you've heard all about the Chinese balloon that crossed the continental United States. After a good deal of meaningless meetings during which one bloviating baby-kisser after another tried to make himself heard above the roar, the U.S. finally shot the damned thing down.
Everyone has an opinion, and I'm no exception. Keep reading as it amuses you to do so.
This is my official Merry Christmas! post. Any of you who are not Christian, I'm wishing you a Happy Hanukkah or a Joyous Kwanzaa, whichever is most appropriate. For anyone who doesn't fall into one of these three categories, label yourself and stop causing trouble.
In times past both my parents were alive, and we had a large gathering for Christmas dinner. Among the eighteen or so guests were Uncle Sardonicus and Grandpa Parsimonious. My old dad really knew how to pour a drink, and Uncle Sardonicus liked to bend his elbow and pontificate on politics. Since he knew everything that was worth knowing, and since he was an idiot a liberal, these speeches could easily lead to a civilized disagreement. Keep reading - trust me.
I caught this story on Knuckledraggin My Life Away (which if you don't read, you should). You can check the link Oh, HELL NO!!!, but it actually leads to the story Project Veritas Undercover Highlights Chicago School Dean Bragging About Sharing Sex Toys with Minors in Classroom, as published on December 8, 2022, courtesy of The Conservative Treehouse.
Keep reading for a commentary and rant that is unsuitable for moon-bats, SJWs, and fragile little snowflakes.
Big Mike announced that he's stopped wondering why people do the bat-shit crazy, incredibly thick-headed things that often make the news. If I wanted a modicum of mental tranquility, I'd follow his example - but I'm not that bright. I'm the sort that will take my finger out of the dyke to see if she'll demand I plug her up again dike to see if the water will come out. Then I'll repair to the nearest bar and have a drink or three while the storm drain system overflows into the next country.
This latest move by the European Union and the environmentalists pretty much puts them all on the city council in Crazy Town, at least temporarily, and could easily lead to a genuine insurrection. Keep reading for half a rant, complete with a decent helping of testosterone fueled toxicity.
