“The irony today is that Americans keep bragging about their land of the free, yet cannot tell a joke, paint their face, whistle at a pretty girl, or even worship an ancestor without losing their careers and livelihoods. PC tyranny rules supreme; media, Hollywood, Big Tech, and academia follow strict orders; and foolish Americans pretend that they’re free.”
Analysis: TRUE. We are about as free as Germans under Hitler. And if the Left gets their way, conservative Americans will be as free as German Jews under Hitler.
As Longtime Readers know, I am not a fan [understatement alert] of the “music” of the Rolling Stones, whom I consider to be the world’s greatest garage band.
However, you may recall that when talking about three-piece rock bands a while back, I made passing mention of said garage band’s Bill Wyman, who is not a garage band’s bassist.
The night before last, I watched The Quiet One on Hulu — it being a retrospective of Wyman — and it is so good, I watched it again last night.
Thankfully, it’s not about the Rolling Stones, nor their music: it’s about Bill Wyman the person, and his music. And if you want to know my philosophy of bass playing, it’s identical to his.
Run, don’t walk to watch it, because it may be the best video biography of all time — and that mostly because all the material comes from his own personal archives, never before seen. My only quibble is that it should have run twice as long.
Last word on the .444 Marlin comes from Reader Mike S:
“I shot a TC Contender w/14-in. bbl. chambered in 444 Marlin. Once.
I couldn’t feel my right hand for 5 minutes. Then wished I couldn’t.
“Muzzle Flash” is such an inadequate phrase.”
The .444 is not a pistol cartridge, no matter what you might be told.
…actually, I can think of at least two good reasons why she was always going to make it.
Photo by Frank Trapper/Corbis Sygma
…and I think that watching Christine have her daily orgasm would probably keep depression away as well:
…but that’s just me.
…and I think it’s probably time to bring apartheid to the world of entertainment: Black Oscars, Black Golden Globes, Black Pulitzers, etc. Then we could all ignore them, just like we do the regular ones, while the winners can all feel good about being big fish in small ponds.
…otherwise known as “bringing the wood”.
…uttered from his position at a British university, founded in 1650 by a Zulu chieftain. [/sarc]
…and Darwin pays a visit to Nashville.
…I’m not so sure that this is a bad idea, but I will entertain arguments in Comments.
…in his defense, I should point out that he is Russian, so she probably should have known better. Also of interest: Wifey is quite a babe, while Mistress is a total dog — once again, Hubby is a Russian.
…never mind, it’s just the annual brainfart from the Stupidest Person In Congress, Sheila Jackson-Lee (DOA) of Houston. Note: not a single co-sponsor, so clearly I’m not the only one who thinks this.
Finally, from the Sports Desk:
Apparently, we should congratulate some guys from Tampa for scoring more baskets than some other guys from Kansas. The Tampa captain or whatever is apparently some REALLY old fart, who hadn’t yet been born when I was already on my second marriage, but who is married to a Brazilian tart with a German name.
I’ve never understood the appeal of the sulky-looking Oz actress Rebel Wilson, unless it was some kind of social compensation for her (over-)weight. Still, I have to give it to the girl, who got sick of only being offered “fat-girl” second-fiddle movie roles and decided to lose some tonnage. So she did, going from gargantuan to merely plump in the space of about a year (and good for her):
Of course, her reduced tonnage meant that Rebel could now choose from a wider pool of boyfriends (and arguably a better class thereof), which she did when she started banging Anheuser-Busch heir Jake Busch. They’ve since apparently broken up, but before they did, they appeared in public together at some dress-up function, and this is why I put the “arguably” in front of “better class” earlier. See if you can spot the sartorial faux pas in the pic below:
Seems to me that if a girl goes through the grueling year-long grind of exercise and diet in order to make herself look more attractive, the least her boyfriend could do was not show up sockless and wearing bedroom slippers at a formal function.
Which is why the title of this post refers not to the pouty Oz chick, but to her ex-boyfriend.
