Moonbats, Primates, and Primative Cultures

I read Knuckledraggin My Life Away by Wirecutter on a fairly regular basis, and between the rants about stupidity and the gifs of naked broads, he actually puts together a good essay every so often.  These aren't diamonds in the rough, either.  This is stuff that's really worth reading.  In between times he publishes quotes (likely without permission, although no one in their right mind would object, and the moonbats are all whiny little things of undecided sexual identification who are horrified by firearms and fisticuffs) and stories from others.  This latest is one such, and is worth reading.

Picking on Glen Filthie

The hoople heads are picking on Glen Filthie again.  This all started when Glen walked into last Sunday's show n' tell with his shop class project which he claimed was a camp stove, but from the look of it was either a shoe shine box or an ash tray.  One thing we could all agree on was that no one was foolish enough to ask him to fuel the mystery burner up and torch it off.

Then some idiot sitting in the back of the class opened his fat yap and suggested Glen's corn bread wasn't done in the middle, and that set it off.  Personally, I think it was that M. Silvius that started the whole thing.

So Glen went off Boiling With RAGE, and... go read about it if you're interested in UFOs and close encounters of the worst kind, but I'm told the outcome is that the little green men from outta space have concluded that while life on earth is intelligent, that intelligence is somewhat perverse.  And so we've been interdicted.

Meantime, I have no idea what these hosers think camping is actually all about.  For instance, their idea of a tent and mine bear (bare?) no similarity at all.

Teaching History Instead of Math

I found this someplace on the web this morning.  I was about to let it slide, but the longer I thought about it, the more irate I became.

Good Samaritan Fallout

I'm not what any sane man of average intelligence would call a good Samaritan.  I'm a crusty old curmudgeon, generally half in the bag.  I like dogs, cats, guns, and whiskey.  I don't like people, which is why I live alone.  Well, one reason anyway.

So a few months back when my neighbor, Next-door Nancy, asked me for a ride to the bank and then to the grocery store, I pretty much shrugged it off and told her we'd put it on the street in five.  That's how it got started.