Month: May 2021

Zeros

It works so ignore it. What? Ivermectim, a very cheap anti-parasitic drug that is working extremely well to bring down India’s Covid cases in dramatic fashion.

WHO’s response? Who? The World Health Organization stupid.

Doesn’t work so ignore it.

Can’t wait. Covid pushback is coming: Last night, Pennsylvanians voted to reject Democrat Gov. Tom Wolf’s overreach of executive powers after his failed COVID response — a clear sign of accountability coming in 2022,” Republican National Committee chair Ronna McDaniel tweeted Wednesday.

Remember this guy?

See the source image                                        Shoulda used Ivermectin.

Oh really?

Mostly Republican Ballots Fail to Scan in Pennsylvania County Election, Stoking Concerns.

The new math: Banks caught off-guard and did not see this coming:

Emergency / Crisis +  Need Mo money  +  Print Mo Money = Runaway inflation.

Who woulda thunk it. WHO? The World Health Organization stupid.

IMF? No, I Am Fooked. No, WE are fooked. So go and Fauc yourself, so says Dr Fauci.

I can’t believe this is news:

A Texas man is suing Gwyneth Paltrow’s company Goop after buying a ‘vagina-scented’ candle that he claimed ‘exploded’ upon use.

Colby Watson, according to court documents, alleged that he had burned the candle at both ends, named ‘This Smells Like My Vagina’ for three hours, before it ‘exploded’ and was ‘vaginated in high flames’, the Guardian reported.

He was told by Goop to “Suck it Up.”

Quote of the week.  “I bought an old Trans AM and was deemed a homophobe.”

Greta Crestfallen After ‘World’s Largest Iceberg’ Turns Out To Be Part Of Normal Cycle. No matter Greata said. “So when does science have anything to do with it? Just follow my narrative.”

Shame, SHAME on you.

While the asymptomatic-transmission risk is small compared to if I were unvaccinated, it is still present  and a gamble I am not comfortable making. Therefore I am going to wear a mask forever – same for my kids.

Update – woman and kids who stated publicly that they will continue to wear a mask after being fully vaccinated from Covid – due to an unrealistic fear that a 95% vaccine efficacy rate wasn’t good enough, were killed when struck by lightening after seeking shelter under a tree during a thunderstorm.

And we elected these people?

The so-called (Biden’s) “Interim Final Recommendations” document is some 91 pages long, and every page contains something more extreme, more preposterous, and more destructive than even the page before. The short version is that all compromise positions and half-way measures are to be rejected. Only wind and solar power are acceptable, and the only route to get there is direct government order and/or spending. And then don’t forget the most important part: it has to be done this way because any other alternatives are racist.

Racist? Fossil Fools? Racist?

We are dealing here with completely crazed zealots, bent on a moral crusade to save the world. With a complete absence of adult supervision in the Biden (and Trudeau) Administration, these people have taken over and are running the show. At this point, the best we can hope for is that they will actually implement some of this nonsense, and it will then fail spectacularly. Of course we will suffer greatly for their stupidity.

Oxy-moron of the week: In violent St. Louis, Mayor Wants To Empty Prisons And Defund The Police.

Fooked up priorities: Fentanyl overdoses surpass Covid deaths by a large margin in many US and Canadian cities. No response from our leaders.

It does have consequences. “Those nations who support my people I will bless. Those nations who disparage my chosen people will be doomed.” (John something or other).

It is not just that they fear that “The Squad,” Black Lives Matter, the shock troops of antifa, and woke institutions such as academia and the media are now unapologetically anti-Israel. They are also terrified that anti-Israelism is becoming synonymous with rank anti-Semitism. And soon, the Democratic Party will end up as disdained as the British Labor Party under Jeremy Corbyn.

Can’t wait.

Hey William. Is that a comb-over?

Prince Harry, Prince William, Duke of Cambridge standing next to a person in a suit and tie: Prince Harry and Prince William

Have they learned nothing these Hillary clones:

MSNBC Host Joe Scarborough Tells Trump Loyalists to ‘Get the Hell Out’ of U.S.: ‘Unworthy’

That’s it for today. Have a great weekend.

Remember the new math: 1 + 1 = zero.

SJ…Out

Another Excerpt

Another excerpt from my new story:

The tidal flat stunk to high heaven or low hell at low tide, which was right around now. It would be some years before they filled that in. The broad tidal flat lay off to my left from the stone seawall out to about two hundred yards. The flat meandered to the left and right as the tide line went in and out as far as you could see from my vantage point. Almost all the way along the train tracks to Long Woods and beyond, possibly all the way up to Totnes. The tideline was broken by the creek to the east, which seemed to be but a trickle to the Dart’s tidal flat at low tide only to be replenished again and again at the high water mark. As I walked along the high street. I could see a few souls out there working on their banked boats, caulking or cleaning or scraping the unwanted smelly sea growth. They could only do one side at a time, only changing the hulls aspect as the next tide came in to refloat the boats. This part of town was of great fascination to me.

Kingswear was not immune to the war. German warplanes bombed the Phillip and Noss shipyard 18 September 1942. Over 17 men were killed, 40 wounded and yet, to the credit of the old English “do no less, stiff upper lip” spirit, the shipyard never lost its beat remaining operational throughout the raid. There were other bombings on Kingswear and Dartmouth including the Royal Navy’s Britannia and the Naval College. But none were as catastrophic as the shipyard.

I found the local grocer, went in and purchased a few item for my father. The grocer lady always had a smile for me and gave me a few sweets. I think she felt sorry for me as she would shake her head in a solemn way as I exited her shop. Then on to the Inn to buy some scotch eggs, some cheeze and some cold mutton. For me, I would wait and grab a fish and chips from the fish monger later in the day.

I hurried home. I could sense trouble inside by the noise coming from the drawing room, the larder and the pantry: glass smashing, and the accompanying thud, thud thump of furniture falling. I opened the door and snuck into the drawing room, then the pantry. Just then I could feel my father’s cold calloused hand grace my neck from the collar of my duffel jacket. He turned me around sharply to face him. His breathing was heavy. His breath was laced with spittle and drool…and alcohol.

“Do you think you are better than me Nigel? Hmmm? Well do you?

I could only shake my head…no., no I thought to myself.

“No Father.”

He stumbled around. His dirty grey flannel pants were coming down at the back as he tried to maintain some semblance of balance. His dirty white and yellow stained undershirt – a wife beater – as they called those things – hung loosely. It was dirty and stained in yellowish orange tobacco hues.

He lunged at me. I stepped out of his way. He lunged again. He missed and almost fell. He was inebriated and violent.

“Where are my foods you little blimey turd?”

I ran into the larder and grabbed the scotch eggs and placed them on the table to his left. He saw them, picked one up and took a bite. Without swallowing the portion it he spit it out, as the juices from the egg spilled down his jowls and on to his stained undershirt.

“You little piece of fucking shit tard,” with that he threw the egg hard against the wall, where it splattered and stained the plaster with the sound of a splat. He grabbed the other one that I brought for him and threw it at me. It just missed my face. I was terrified but I couldn’t get out of the pantry. I shriveled in the corner of the room and held my hands up to cover my face. I was shaking uncontrollably. I was terrified.

“Why, oh why, did my sweet, sweet Jenny have to die. Why couldn’t it have been you? You…you useless, mindless urchin of a boy?” He yelled at the ceiling…at the walls…then grabbed his bottle and took a swig, or a swirl as half of it spilled all over his red blushed face. He then turned toward me, snarled at what he saw…

“Please daddy, please don’t hurt me.” I cried.

…me.”

He came closer. I could smell his breath, decayed from alcohol.

No daddy, please no…” and he whacked me with the back of my hand. It stung, physically and emotionally. I began to wail.

“Cry…cry…cry my little shyte boy Nigel. Cry…cry…cry you little fuckin retard shit of a boy.” He hit me again, and again. It was only the duffel coat and his wavering balance that softened the blows.

Finally he fell and passed out. I snuck out and ran up into my room. I locked my door, undressed and found solace comfort and safety beneath the sheet, all but darkened from the cruel existence of my home.

“MOMMY!” I cried out…over and over again. “Mommy” and I cried myself to sleep.

I awoke a few hours later. It was late afternoon. I wiped the dry tears from my eyes. Not a sound was forthcoming from the drawing room. The rays of an unexpected late afternoon sun graced and warmed my room. I got up, shook the sleep from my being, grabbed my things and quietly left my room. Slowly I went downstairs, trying not to make a sound. Luckily for me I could see the legs of my father sprawled out and lifeless from the pantry. I took a glance. He was comatose from the liquor. He was lying belly down. Fortunately for him, unfortunately for me, he had not choked on the vomit that lay in a yellowish brown paste beside him. I grabbed my coat and left.

SJ…Out

Check out these books:

Click on the links at the top of the page.

Life In Post War Dartmouth

An excerpt from a new story I am working on:

My father did find some employment as a pier rat and general labourer during the American era and when the French and English fast patrol boat squadrons were based here during the war but that was only a temporary respite. The war ended Dartmouth’s prospects, as well as my father’s. Their future faded away into maritime obscurity but for  my father, in an alcoholic drift. Most of the townsfolk adapted. My father couldn’t or wouldn’t. His inability or unwillingness to change would have a profound impact on my own sense of well-being.

For the times now, 1949, Dart Harbour, with its two main towns of Dartmouth and Kingswear was in a period of transition. It was a slow, dreary almost lifeless place to live. We were still under the black cloud of rationing as a holdover from the war. Labour was the governing party. Clement Attlee is our Prime Minister. George VI our King. Our national hero, Churchill, was turfed at the end of the war. Being a young lad, rationing and politics meant absolutely nothing to me. Hunger was my normality. I thought that it was always this way – for everyone. My life, my sphere of interest, my influence on this world was very small. It was insignificant. I was insignificant. I was but an urban urchin from Dickens. One of Fagin’s no names. The Artful Dodger perhaps? What was my life, my routine? Wake up…hungry. Walk to school…hungry…and cold, back to my home…hungry…and cold, back to my bedroom…hungry: dream, think of my mother, fear of my father…hungry, cry, and pray…hungry. Although I really didn’t know how to pray as we never went to church. But I did know how to hunger.

Bully beef for me, bully beef for you was a common saying around these parts.

“Good day, good morning.”

“Thank you and a bully beef for you too,” whatever that meant.

“Nigel….NIGEL…” my father screamed. “Get your sorry ass down here….NOW.”

This was a familiar ring. I left my room and went down the stairs to the drawing room. There my aging father sat in his old chair. Faded brown and ripped at some of the seams. The arm rests blunt and bereft of any texture whatsoever: a glossy smoothness from years of wear. High backed it was with its high back to the window. He hated looking out at the world he told me in one of his rare moments of sobriety. It reminded him of his lot in life. What could have been or should have been so he thought had been. On the floor and to his right sat his brass spittoon. I hated the sight and smell of that with its gross chaw or tobacco, sometime snuff innards. It was awful. I swore I would never partake and I never did. Sometimes my father made me empty that jar of filth and I did so with much trepidation, fearful that any part of his innard snot or gawb will befall on me. Yuck. I felt sick.

“Yes Father” I responded meekly as I entered the room, for I feared him. He wasn’t drunk…yet. That would come soon enough.

“Take this dosh boy and go down to the shops and get me some food. Don’t care what. Fish n Chips perhaps, some scotch eggs, whatever. Take some fer yerself…now on with you lad.”

Off I went, as ordered.

I took the money and left.

Out the door I headed, turning to my left then down Church Hill toward the harbour quay. It was raining. I pulled up the collar of my old oversized anorak and headed toward the center of town. Quickly I might add as the soles of my shoes were weathered and worn thin. I could feel the cold moisture of the rain soaked street ooze up and into my shoes. So much so that I found myself favouring the sides of my soles, walking bowlegged to the extreme.

Church Hill Street met the main Kingswear quay tangentially from the southeast then melted into one main thoroughfare of the Fore High Street of downtown Kingswear right at the familiar Kingswear Hall. It was about a five minute walk for me. Down on the main quay were a number of shops: bakery, although bread was still being rationed; the Steam Packet Inn where the booze and beer flowed freely; and a few other shops and wares. To my left was a stone cobbled sidewalk protected by a four foot stone seawall. As you looked out over the harbour, our ferry slipway and the tidal flats you could still see remnants and reminders of the war, now just four years prior, by the number of torpedo boats and gun boats in a nest at a berthing buoy. I had no clue as to what they were, only that they looked very cool and awesome to a ten year old like me.

SJ…Out

The Truth Is Out There

And those nations that support my chosen people shall be blessed and those that do not shall be cursed: John something or other:

“The weekend violence against Jewish Canadians across the country did not merit any condemnation from our Prime Minister nor an acknowledgement from our MSM. Shocking & depressing state of affairs for Canadian Jews.”

Canada? We’re doomed.

Finally, some Canadians have grown a set:

You can’t handle the truth:

Governments across Canada have been withholding COVID-19 data in an exercise of “paternalistic” information-hoarding likely meant to regulate public reaction to the pandemic, says an access-to-information advocate.

Sean Holman, an access to information expert and journalism professor at Mount Royal University in Calgary, said uproar in British Columbia Friday over revelations the provincial government was only releasing a fraction of its COVID-19 data to the public is just one example of such secrecy.

Details? You can’t handle the details.

Meanwhile in Switzerland:

A criminal complaint has been filed against Martin Ackermann, the head of the Swiss National Covid-19 Science Task Force and “possibly other parties involved” for repeated publication of implausible horror prognoses regarding the occupancy of the intensive care beds, with the aim of terrifying the public and implementing more stringent measures. Repeated and systematic manipulation of past ICU bed data, presumably with the aim of making the current situation appear more dramatic. False statements about hospitalizations and deaths.

I watched the Nuremberg Trials TV documentary last night. One of the interesting things that came out of it was the Nazi strategy to control the German people: “Scare the populace through the use of propaganda and lies, lies and more lies…”sound familiar? If people are afraid they will do just about anything to save their own skin.

Canada” You are doomed!

Meanwhile in America:

In Canada? We’re doomed.

What we have come down to here in Canada and America:

https://youtu.be/Kfe6d6MzeLM

America and Canada:

Not only are we doomed but we are also fooked.

Meanwhile, in France:

Which Napoleon?

Those commemorating the bicentennial of the French emperor’s death must choose among his many legacies.

I like to think that one of his legacies was the fact that for over 16 years – 1799-1815 – France did not have to commission any of its many “white flag” factories.

Meanwhile in British Columbia:

Be kind, be calm and be safe – now take off that galldarned effin mask.

Canadian Response:

What if we just said……………………no? We are not taking it anymore.

Have a nice Tuesday

SJ…Out

 

 

Covid, Covid, Covid

Covid Insanity:

Doctor: “I am happy to tell you that you do not have Covid 19.”

Patient: “Whew, thank god for that.”

Doctor: “But you do have stage 4 lung cancer.”

Patient: “Yeah, but no Covid Doctor. You had me worried there for a minute.”

Canada is now the worst country in the world for lockdowns. And the rates of Covid continue to climb. Flatten the curve with more lockdowns. Keep on doing the same thing and expect a different result.

Why I would never recommend university to anyone:

Penn State Nixes Labels Such As ‘Freshman,’ ‘Junior,’ ‘Senior,’ and other words Citing Lack Of Gender Inclusivity.

Warning: Liberal-speak…inbound:

“I feel the need to continue wearing my mask outside even though I’m fully vaccinated because the inconvenience of having to wear a mask is more than worth it to have people not think I’m a conservative.”

Gee, I did not know that masks were partisan.

The vaccination must be good if the government is forcing you to take it. 50% of US CDC employees and 40% of US Marines refuse to take the vaccine.

CNN ratings fall like a stone. Boy do they ever miss Trump.

Covid sanity. In the US:

“I will not frequent any restaurant, grocery store or other establishment that requires masks if there is a competitor within a one hour drive that does not do so. I am sure most others feel the same way. Let us leave the mask horror behind, as rapidly as possible. Let’s throw our masks into the fire and forget we ever wore them.”

Meanwhile:

Oh but we Canadians are so smug, and superior, don’t ya know. This from a well known Canadian journalist (if there ever was one in Canada):

“Unlike the United States,” he wrote last March, “Canadians are lining up obediently to follow the instructions of their “calm, competent and professional” leaders. “Canadians accept big government, which is how we built the social welfare state. Two-thirds of us voted for progressives last year. We defer to authority.”

Yes we do:

See the source image

Our calm, professional, and competent Canadian leadership:

See the source image

And that is why Virginia, as other countries are opening up, Canada has the worst lockdown record in the entire world and remains so. Because we know better. We are so much better and of superior intellect than those dastardly Americans – don’t ya know.

Now where is my six pack of Molson’s and remote control Virginia. Hockey night in Canada is about to come on. Pass the Doritos.

SJ…Out