Counting Cats in Zanzibar Rotating Header Image

They Don’t Like It Up ‘Em

Thou shalt not…

I knew of an obscure law in Texas that essentially made it illegal to have in your home more than two sex toys (guess why the two?). Seeing as archaeologists have found dildos in ancient Egyptian tombs and such this clearly not some vile post ’60 innovation undoubtedly linked to drugs.

I didn’t know Ted Cruz was an architect of either creating the law or just making it er… harder. But…

In perhaps the most noticeable line of the brief, Cruz’s office declared, “There is no substantive-due-process right to stimulate one’s genitals for non-medical purposes unrelated to procreation or outside of an interpersonal relationship.”

It sort of seems this was a kinda plea bargain for the removal of the sodomy laws (which he was part of). OK, we’ll let gays do what they want but not with artificial help. In short things like anal sex were made legal but a vibrating butt-plug illegal. Yeah, I’m doing a switcharo here because dildos (or similar) are used in all ends (intended) of the sexual Spectrum (ZX and indeed 48K).

There are a number of issues here but let’s boil it down to one. Ted Cruz strongly implies sex ought to be for procreation and not for fun. So that is me un-fucked. Oh go on Nick! Yes I shall. Would he object to a married woman having a contraceptive implant? I bet he would. Because that is very much sex for fun and also bonding between two humans at the deepest level. There is a bigger issue though. How very dare Ted Cruz tell people what sex is for? How very dare he declare that sex without procreation is against the constitution when the constitution doesn’t mention sex at all and for good reason. Because it is private. He does also mention “public morals” and that is scary. And it comes down to the line about due process rights. And that is scary. The law is to tell you what not to do and not what you can do. Under common law systems it is assumed (and generally upheld) that you can do whatever you want unless it is specifically proscribed. Cruz’s attitude to masturbation is very scary here because it is about the law having to specifically allow something. It is basically allowing nothing unless it is made as legal.

That is very worrying.

H/T here and here.

“Draw Mohammed,” Part 1

I ask assembled Felines to consider the inflammatory and incendiary* incitement to violence shown in this award-winning cartoon by Bosch Fawstin:

Fawstin,B.Winning Cartoon in "Draw Mohammed" contest, ADFI, Garland, Texas, 5:2-3:2015.Lifson, American Thinker, 5:4:15.194522_5_

Now have a look at this piece of high art**, which won a competition sponsored by the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA), by Andres Serrano:

Piss Christ, by Andres Serrano.Won contest sponsored NEA.[BOX].194521_5_

Lastly, enjoy this one, which I received in an e-mail with no source.

Do You Have Any Idea How Offensive That Is?.Cartoon, Steve eml, 5:23:15, 11;16 a.m.Source Unknown

There is somewhere also a most delightful and accurate (in its implication) cartoon of David Horowitz***, depicting Mr. Horowitz much as the hook-nosed scumbag in the previous drawing, only with, as I recall, a garbage-can’s lid on his head for a hat. Or maybe in his hand for a shield? Can’t remember for sure, and can’t find it again. But one thing is sure: When I said it’s “most delightful and accurate,” I lied. Pure sarcasm. Frankly it P’d me O. As does the mockery of Christ above.

But not enough to go kill people about it, except maybe metaphorically. I suspect that most Christians and Jews and even atheists share the attitude. Of course, the more benighted Muslims at least find that the proper treatment for drawing Mohammed at all is death.

More on this and on the jihadi attack for which the first cartoon served as an excuse (but it wasn’t really the cartoon) in upcoming postings, until I run out of steam.

*Redundancy for emphasis.

**’”Piss Christ,” a photograph of a crucifix in a jar of urine,’ to quote Thomas Lifson, who wonders if it is “enough to justify mass murder.”

***This is the red-diaper baby and former New-Leftist, the author of so many anti-Communist/-Marxist/-socialist/-Leftist works, including the marvelous Radical Son, who is also a champion of free speech and academic freedom (the real kind, not the Progressive version), and the founder of Front Page Magazine.

I don’t know what’s going on with WP. First, the comments were allowed before they weren’t allowed, and now they are allowed again, unless it turns out that they’re not.

Second, originally YrsTrly was the editrix responsible for this yelp of anger, but WP then decided it’s by somebody called “admin” (no caps). Who knows who will finally be elected the reporter. *sneer*


Now some of this sounds standard Daily Fail dodgy but I hope there is some truth in this.

It would appear that those fun-lovers of ISIS (or whatever they call themselves) are scared of being killed by a woman. Apparently they fear they shall not go to Heaven (or even Hebburn). Well, quite frankly, fuck ‘em.

And they can join the Witch King of Angmar.

But if even only half of the Mail article is right then swing on sisters!

I raise doubts as to the veracity because near it was a story about ISIS getting their paws on an “airforce” consisting of a small number of Syrian MiGs (21/23) which are antediluvian anyway and the idea these half-wits can train pilots and ground crew to a pitch where they could challenge NATO et al is three stops from Dagenham. With three knackered fighters! Against a squadron of late block F-16s. Give me strength.

The only power ISIS has is their moral depravity and the sheer terror that precedes it and follows in it’s wake. That is why the Iraqi Army downed tools and fled (that and Iraq is not a “real” country in the sense that say France or the USA is). ISIS wouldn’t put you in a POW camp for the duration. They’d crucify you – literally. If you were lucky. Unless you have something definite to believe in why fight? In ’91 Iraqi soldiers flogged their rifles for a bus ticket home.

So, if it is true that ISIS are pant-wettingly scared of being slotted by a woman then…


What pathetic scoundrels they truly are!

We in the entire civilized planet will fight – women and men.

Because we believe. I don’t know what we believe in exactly but we do believe.

Barque to the Future…

This is USS Zumwalt…

Just launched at a cost of umpty billions. Now I know aeroplanes and bugger all about ships but does that not look rather similar to a US Civil War ironclad to you? Like this…

The Zumwalt class is designed to have the radar sig of a fishing smack. I guess you might get much the same from the CSS Albermarle not, obviously, that it was an issue at the time. It is possible (and the USN has been ickling on about railguns for some time and a planning sea trials in 2016 which is when the Zumwalt is due to enter service. So clearly looks may deceive and it might look the same but be bigger on the inside so to speak.)

So… It’s kinda odd but for completely different reasons the naval architects have gone back to the future. Either that or the Confederacy had some unknown naval genius beavering away and designing a low radar-return ship almost a century before radar.

But, and this is a biggy for me. Now it might sound nit-picking but how the heck is that a destroyer? It displaces 15,000 tons, it is 610ft long. That is a cruiser at least. Surely. Is this some bizarre ruse to get the funding past Congress? Because the Zumwalt class is essentially designed as a 1-1 replacement for the Iowa class battleships.

That is a broadside from an Iowa class (Actually BB61 USS Iowa). Those are 16″ guns. Who needs railguns when you can hurl a shell the mass of a VW for a couple of dozen miles. I’d be much more impressed by railguns on the Zumwalt if it was nuclear powered and therefore had practically unlimited electricity. Hell’s teeth I’d be going for a fully nuclear navy! No need for oilers and fill ‘er up every 25 years! You’d buy a car that did that. Especially if it had a railgun. It has to be noted though that we won the Cold War partly (thank you Ronnie!) with recommissioned Iowa class battleships and the off-key caterwauling of skanty-clad songstresses. I dunno which scared the Kremlin most. But they are very big guns indeed and Cher is wearing very little indeed. That was the ’80s and that is how we won. Hard and soft pressure. Ronnie and MTV – an unstoppable alliance.

I mean can you imagine how dull communism must have been?

Yeah, and inevitably here’s the video…

Yeah, I liked the ’80s. We seemed to be going somewhere and that dear reader is a guilty pleasure from the era. But that’s one hell of a ship whatever you think of Cher.

And if we had another Ronnie then Vlad would be hiding under a table in the Kremlin with stained trews. And if we could take out Comrade Kim and the Ayatollahs and dear old Bob and… I can dream. But that video speaks to me of serious belief in our moral, social, military and economic might. We believed it then. That is why I liked the ’80s.

PS. The Iowa class were designed to be Panamax. They had 18″ wiggle room so never again complain about parking in TESCO.

PPS. This has been edited by moi. This fecking Toshiba is at the very end of the tether.

Where does it all go? (or come from?)

Penis pumps cost U.S. government millions, watchdog cries waste

(Reuters) – Penis pumps cost the U.S. government’s Medicare program $172 million between 2006 and 2011, about twice as much as the consumer would have paid at the retail level, according to a government watchdog’s report released on Monday.

Just a minor point but how much does the “government watchdog” that surveys the price of penis pumps cost? Just a thought.

A minor thought. Two major ones spring to mind. The first is of course to do with economies of scale (oh, err missus!). Surely Medicare could get more bang for buck (so to speak) than an individual due to greater economies of scale? That is the real scandal here but more on that later.

Now, I did a 5s Google and is knocking them out at from about GBP14.99 (that’s, what, 20 bucks a throw. Does anyone seriously believe the average yank on the sans a wank can’t afford 20 bucks for sex?) So this is the second point – why? Well, I guess it could be argued that sex is a right and Medicare ought to pay. But why pay twice the odds? That’s back to the first point. This is deeply inefficient.

So where does it all go? How much isn’t stealth planes or Obamacare but sheer waste? And buying an item for twice the retail rate is waste in spades. It is reckoned that the 21 B-2 Bombers built by Northrop-Grumman cost over USD2 billion a throw (and the operating costs are astronomic) but nobody really expected an intercontinental range bomber to be bought from the penny-jar (even with the Slovak 50 Eurocent that always finds a way in there). Penis pumps though are something I can find on Google in seconds. Is the US Department of Cock (and indeed Bull) lacking a computer? If they are they can speak to me and I’ll quote them an interesting price.

I mean it is sometimes worth looking at the small ticket items too because there are so many and a million here and a million there and soon it is billions and then it’s a billion here or there and then rapidly you are talking serious money.

So, apart from offering a service no one needs because anyone can get it off their own bat and doing this in a deeply inefficient way we come to the real er… meat. I can best sum this with a quote from the article…

“Considering the strain retiring baby boomers will soon be placing on Medicare’s budget, shouldn’t we be focusing this entitlement program on real, life-saving treatment and equipment to serve the health needs of seniors – instead of subsidizing penis pump purchases?

Why did I make that strong (I watched too many “Carry On” movies as a kid). Well, that and who is being subsidised? Not the seniors for sure. Just think who. This happens all the time. Look at the F-35 programme. Would it be interesting to suggest that the F-35 is a farce* on a trillion+ dollar budget which oddly enough (I think) has contracts in 48 states (and abroad). God knows what the congress-types from a pair of states were doing that afternoon. Manning Ted Kennedy’s penis pump (now deployed in Somerset?).

Anyway, it’s all er… pork barrels.

*A late block F-16 knocks it into a cocked hat for half (less?) the money. Possibly less than half the money.

Kenyan fiddling with a kid.

Sex attacker is confronted by his victim in Kenyan court… a female GOAT (and he is jailed a record ten years for ‘defiling’ it)

defiling the goat? He’s not precisely covered himself in glory has he either? I mean it might have been a very attractive goat – to other goats but… it’s a goat.

A man who was jailed for 10 years for having sex with a female goat came face-to-face with his victim in a Kenyan court.

The goat watched quietly from the corner of the court room in Malindi while Katana Kitsao Gona, 28, was jailed for bestiality.

I’m really not sure about this story. It is quite possibly the first time he came (oh, er missus!) face to face with said beast. My vague understanding (and I could be very wrong) is the only critters who have sex face-to-face are humans and bonobos. Personally I don’t think he ought to have got chokey. Surely the stare of the goat* and his naming and shaming is enough? I mean that happened a few years back to a bloke from Hull who was caught molesting a goat by a railway line. He was fined (the goat was deemed OK by police vets) rather than ten years in the tank but his career was ruined. He was a chef. Well, who is going to employ a chef who sodomizes goats? And it is sodomy by pretty much any rational definition. Call me odd and all but sex with another human regardless of gender is like whatever. Shagging a goat is basically not OK. Do I have to explain why? And why the Mail has to state prominently that it was a female goat is beyond me. I suppose you just shouldn’t shag the nanny.

Anyway, on with this tale of utter depravity…

According to Jimmy Kimaru, chief prosecutor, Gona was caught sexually assaulting the goat in a bush.

It really doesn’t get better than that. Some of us dream of Brad Pitt or Keira Knightley on a Caribbean beach and some of us fuck goats in the backwoods of Kenya. Admittedly a female goat but quite frankly that doesn’t make a quantum of WTF to me. And why did this vile crime happen?

Gona, who pleaded guilty, told the court his wife is disabled and depends on him daily. Despite this, the judge jailed him for a record 10 years for ‘defiling’ the animal.

Well, as I said before some crimes are in a sense their own punishment. This is a very libertarian stance. Would you employ the goat-fucker of Malindi? No and neither would I. If you were his wife would you not seek a divorce? Obviously you would! There is not a court on the planet that would deny you. I mean an affair with another human might be forgiven but screwing a goat in a bush is simply unforgivable.

And now we get onto arguably the meat of the deal. I think the Dr Who character of Captain Jack is interesting. He is frequently described as “bisexual” but he is is actually “omnisexual” and I think calls himself that. So why does that matter here? He fancies males and females of every bipedal, thinking, speaking race in the Universe. OK, I’m fine with that but a goat is different. What is clever about Captain Jack is a couple of things. The first is there is very little hint in Dr Who of interspecies pregnancies (I’m gonna get called on that) and in that respect it is much more on the biological money than Star Trek (score one for the Brits!) but it acknowledges that sex is not just about procreation. And it acknowledges another thing. If one accepts that (and some don’t) then you have to face a tricky question and Captain Jack answers it very well. He is prepared to fancy different species so therefore he can’t see gender as that important. I think that is interesting. Obviously Captain Jack would never fuck a goat but he kissed both The Doctor and Rose. I guess what I’m getting at is that interspecies sex is acceptable in a fantasy setting (think Beren and Luthien) iff (not an sp) the species are roughly comparable and able to give informed consent and stuff. In short an Elven princess is one thing and a goat is quite, quite different.

Seeing as there is a species difference either way I’m not entirely sure if I can make a solid point here and I have to just really on the “yuk” factor to a certain extent here but… let’s face it making love to Arwen in the Royal Bedchamber of Minas Tirith beats the Hellskis out of goat-fucking in a bush in Kenya.

Pretty much anything beats that. The last time I had a filling beats that.

Quotes from The Mail.

*Goats have nasty stares. I recall an incident on a Greek island in the ’90s when I was surrounded by goats and the leader of the pack – a big billy with horns poised at my scrotum gave me a vile stare. I thought it about to charge and de-bollock me but then the goatherd turned-up. I have rarely if ever been more pleased with a Greek fellow entering stage left. I had also accidentally nearly troden on a snake about ten minutes before which was seriously nonplussed. Beautiful island but full of things that wanted to kill me.

Let’s give a big round of applause to Angola!


“In an apparent attempt to prevent the spread of Islamic extremism, the African nation of Angola has banned Islam and is in the process of tearing down mosques, according to multiple media reports.

On November 24, Angola President José Eduardo dos Santos said the country is working toward putting an end to Islamic influence in Angola once and for all.

Michael Stone at The Examiner

Who is John Galt?

“I swear by my life, and my love of it, that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine.”

CCiZ is not really a forum for book reviews, but to try and introduce myself without reference to my nom de guerre, the fictional John Galt, hero of Ayn Rand’s 1957 epic novel of libertarianism Atlas Shrugged is impossible.

I know that many readers of CCiZ have not read “Atlas Shrugged”, due to being put off by the sheer impenetrability of Ayn Rand’s prose, which is torturous at best and diabolical at worst. In fairness, I agree…but it beats Dan Brown any day.

Suffice to say that John Galt was a freedom fighter in a dystopian vision from half a century ago that increasingly resembles the world we live in today, especially the United States. (more…)

Crime of the Century…

Well, it’s been bitter cold a few days ago. I know I was varnishing an external door.

I then thought for dinner I might fancy (It was my wife’s idea) making a hearty Spanish style stew. So I went on a hunt for chorizo… and found it at the Co-op which staggered me for it was the only “filthy foreign sausages” (insert Sid James line of choice) the Co-op did have among it’s bewildering variety of almost identical British (Gawd bless ‘er! etc.) mechanically recovered offal tubes (there’s a ref there and not a prize if you get it – well not from me, anyway) there was chorizo! My flabber was gasted. None of that other continental filth, mind. None of your French or German or Czech or Polish or whatever sausage (insert Sid James line of choice). Apart from their many other sins the Co-op is staggeringly parochial. On the little screens at the tills there’s loads of piccies of “jolly natives” with their new water-pump but (with the exception of chorizo) nothing else paid for by buying Fairtrade tat or buying bottles of “ethical water” (why does that always remind me of homeopathy?)

And, yes, I am aware the British sausage industry (insert Sid James line of choice) makes lovely sausages too but those were not represented. Just umpty varieties of bog-standard “bangers”* of the sort I only ate as a student and only when I was on my uppers. Fortunately not too often. Anyway I got chatting to J who works there and is by far and away the most competent member of staff. He used to be a pub land-lord but… Well, I dunno – what with pubs closing 16 to the dozen and all – but he’s a shelf-stacker now. He’ll never make management because I suspect he is regarded as “not a team player” which is HR talk for, “shows initiative and is capable of thinking independently”. The way to get ahead in such organisations (I saw much the same when temping for the Government) is to just keep your head down and schmooze. Never, ever suggest a better way of doing things it shows your line-manager up. I did once and was “pruned”.

Anyway he told me a story… He’d recently apprehended a shop-lifter. The shop-lifter had gone over to the freezers and purloined a tub of Ben & Jerry’s ice-cream and had concealed it down the front of his trousers**.

“Is that stolen goods in your pants or are you just pleased to see me?”

J told me something else bizarre too. Apparently ice-cream sales rocket in the last half of December. I found that odd considering what I was making for dinner that night.

*Insert Sid James line of choice. etc. This is getting tired, so I’m retiring it.
**Oh, go on, that is very “Carry On”. On pretty much the coldest day of the year he had put a tub of ice-cream next to his genitals. Perhaps he was planning on wooing a lady? Well, I guess the poor mare would have been disappointed as the Barry White was playing and the lights went low. Unless he’d previous half-inched a magnifying glass and tweezers. Some how I doubt he had the fore-sight. He might have had a cryogenic foreskin mind :-)

Burn as many flags as you want…

I think we should take Iraq and Iran and combine them into one country and call it Irate. All the pissed off people live in one place and get it over with.

- Dennis Leary

No, you’ve burnt your flag.

- Jimmy Carr.

I don’t care if they burn flags. They’re usually (see later) at least probably putting bread and cheese on the table of a local flag-merchant. I’m not that thin-skinned to care about them burning flags that are their own property imbued as symbols of their own hatred. The scenes from Yemen yesterday (they have so much to be proud of – well, at least they’re not Somalia) on the news were (I apologise for the use of a technical, psychiatric, term here) of blokes going totally fucking mental. One utterly deranged loon had a home-brew Stars And Stripes which looked like a thick kid made it (it didn’t have enough stars for a start**) and he proceeded to torch it and then stamp on it with what can (ironically – I guess) only be described as an act of Dionysian fervour. He was wearing flip-flops. So absolutely ripped to the tits on pointless indignation he probably didn’t notice his burns progressing from first to second degree.

And all over this utter crap on YouTube. And people die over such tantrums that a toddler would be ashamed of (even my little cat looked un-impressed and licked unmentionable parts of himself – but then he does that anyway – especially in company). That is a tragedy of literally Lilliputian proportions but the truly enabling tragedy for these mentalists is that we take such idiocy seriously. Why? Well, apart from it killing people and breaking things it is utterly farcical.

So if they are going to go doolally over a video like that (and it ain’t “Triumph of the Will” is it?) then they can burn their own flags and play Les Buggeurs Risible until the camels come home because I don’t fucking care any more. If I live another millennium on this planet I do not care whether or not I see another Western flag burnt, another stomp-fest, another bearded git declaiming blood-curdling rhetoric against Zionist-Crusaders or whatever. They are pathetic and infantile and deserve their sand-box (in every sense). It is ludicrous that we take this spitting of dummies out of the pram seriously. Surely strongly held religious beliefs can stand on their own and ignore such obscure mockery? Don’t they think their faith is strong enough without the periodic nine-day wonder of a hate-festival?

Indeed it is perhaps odd that we have embassies with such babies in the first place and tread as though over egg-shells in the face of such derangement (and its causes). The odd clip round the ear ought to sort it but all the, “Let’s talk about your legitimate grievances and find some common ground” (and there is no common ground between lunacy aand freedom) schtick only encourages them. Does anyone discuss “legitimate grievances” with a toddler when the pureed peas are flung from the high-chair? No. Practically, here the simple solution would have been to have stationed Marines at US diplomatic stations across the Middle East. This seems not to have happened. Instead it was softly, softly catchee fire and the consulate is torched and the ambassador is murdered. Epic Fail. A couple of platoons of Marines (with reasonable RoE) in each of these places and it would have all been very different. Of course in their infinite wisdom the US State Department seemed to be relying on the unstable regimes of the “Arab Spring” and decided to rely on the local “security” services. Yeah, right… Any parents out there need a sitter this weekend drop me an email to my new start-up We have a lovely guy called Paul Gadd on our books.

But I digress…

At a really obscure and deep level is one of the things that really gets the vile coves behind these numpties going?


No, not the freedom to get a beer and a bacon sandwich or to realize before your arranged marriage that women also have legs and don’t move on casters or whatever but that in the West (and I include Israel here) the average Muslim is probably freer in general than their co-religionists in the Middle East or Pakistan or wherever and also freer in religion. They hate the fact that, say, a British Muslim is perfectly free to be a Muslim and to enjoy the fruits of living in an essentially secular state. The theocrats hate this because it undermines a central plank of their argument which is that until the Umma is freed from external influences and The One True Caliphate*** is set-up Muslims will always be victims of some great global conspiracy. And we all know who’s behind that don’t we?

So why do British and other Western Muslims go a-protesting or a-jihadi-ing? I suspect much of it is a strange romanticism (TE Lawrence Syndrome) and perhaps it is much like the romanticism of the Greens. An almost poetic rejection of modernity that takes whatever form their up-bringing primes them for. A strange year-zero urge. It is a desire for adventure and something completely new (yet old) and exciting (yet sanctioned) and the promise of a higher calling than working in ASDA. Except, of course, working for ASDA isn’t anything special but providing goods and services for people is vastly more noble than wrecking and killing on spurious grounds.

Either that or there is a poisionous combination of friggeth all to do in these places and a load of theocrats and climbers of assorted greasy poles happy to harness the boredom and resentment of young men to their own ends. I suspect that is a positive feedback loop.

I guess it isn’t either/or. I have tried to understand intellectually and maybe I can up to a point but viscerally I can’t. I just can’t. I can’t, can you?

Why not build and have fun along the way doing that?

Works for all the rest of us.

And no, that ain’t Orientalism. People from Tierra del Fuego to Anchorage and from Osaka to New York have a name for it. I think we all call it life.

PS. Just heard they have wrecked the British and German Embassies in Khartoum! I saw on the telly some cunt leaping up and down on the German Eagle. Ho hum. Fuck ‘em! Can’t these fuckers just get over themselves and desire iPhones or something and build a functional economy based on something other than excising clitorises with rusty tin-lids and the virtual butchering of Gordon again and again? (call that civilization?) And quite what we or the Germans have to do with this fracas is utterly beyond me.

*How much more beneficial would it have been to all concerned if they’d watched DVDs of great US-made movies that afternoon rather than rampaging over a truly abysmal one they probably hadn’t even seen?
**Vital start for all wannabe jihadis, “US History 101: Louisiana Purchase”.
***Of course which Islamist’s leader’s vision of the One True Caliphate is a vexed question going back to the death of Muhammed himself. A terrible source of tension it must be to be eternally torn between an overarching need for unity in the face of inherent schismatism.

Cheshire East

That is where I live according to the gubbermunt. I call it East Cheshire but clearly that isn’t as dynamic as “Cheshire East“. “Go East!” as the Pet Shop Boys didn’t sing.

Anyway, through the door I get today the free-sheet detailing all the wonderful things Cheshire East does for me. There is some stuff on parenting which if I had kids I would feel abysmally patronized by and a speech by the council boss in which he promises the earth but clearly can’t be arsed to fix my road which increasingly resembles a fucking goat track in Mogadishu.

And there is also the council “cabinet” line-up. I almost bouked with merriment when I saw who held the environment portfolio…

Councillor Rod Menlove (Conservative and the upstanding member for Wilmslow East).

Here he is:

And this is about him.

Rod Menlove.

Jebus fucking wept.

I mean he might be a real nice bloke but growing up called Rod Menlove carries a whole carousel of baggage. At least he wasn’t called “Roger”. His parents spared him that at least.

Speak to me Goose!

I hate that movie. I hate it. The premise of the entire smorgasbord of drivel is that Top Gun exists to get US fighter pilots from a 3-1 (Vietnam) back to a 10-1 (Korea)* kill ratio and it ends in triumph with what 3-1, 4-1 D’oh!. But Jeebus wept! Sailor Malan would have pistol whipped the sex-thimble for that mortifying scene where he’s clutching his late RIO’s tags and his new RIO is screaming at him to fucking do something. If I’d been in a “MiG 28″ he’d have been feeding the fishes before it achieved it’s emotional climax. I mean there has to be a lot of stick action in a dog-fight – just not as a faux-emotional wanking festival. There is also a time and a place for an existential crisis and it’s on a sofa in Cheshire when the ciggies have run out at 3am and there is nothing on TV except Bid-Up selling dreadful jewellery. Or the God Channel. I sometime watch that and TBN (Trinity Broadcasting Network) which is utter Horlicks with some curious ideas about evolution. And God (or L Ron) is going to buy you a satellite.

(I have to sort of side with Bonio of U2 here. Gods of all pantheons help me for saying that! But Bonio did once say “The God I believe in isn’t short of cash”. Seeing as Bonio clearly believes himself some sort of second-coming** and Bonio is clearly not short of cash the statement is true for a certain value of true. The Holy sacraments are kept under The Edge’s hat. Well something is kept under it other than The Edge’s bald paternoster – possibly a Ginster’s or a small Toblerone)

Not in a dog-fight. That is almost exactly the last time to do it. “Speak to me Goose!”. Oh, fuck off you diminutive bell-ender!

So Katie Holmes has decided to divorce the Cruise-control-freak! You surprise me not. That it took six frigging years does. He’s a repugnant, sofa-bouncing, sleazy, manic Scientologist, blank-firing, dwarf who is also very clearly gay (sue me Tom!) and she’s, well, OK really. Though Dear Gods Katie! It wasn’t that you were just in it for the money and as seven years approached you were going to be transferred to John Travolta which is a fate worse than death? Imagine being humped by that hairy-backed trotter? I’d rather wrestle with Jabba the Hutt. Well, not perhaps the full Hutt. Maybe more Jabba the Wendy House.

Apparently Katie Holmes is a devout catholic and she don’t like scientology presumably because it is not so much “Pilgrim’s Progress” as “Gullible’s Travels”.

Now, I don’t have a religion but I have a certain level of respect for, say, Catholicism but… Scientology? For fuck’s sake what was Ms Holmes thinking of? Or Ms Kidman come to that who is also a Catholic and that also lead to divorce. I mean the religious (and “religious”) difference is that one I just don’t believe in and the other is utterly risible. Anyway, I’d put Nicole Kidman third on my “Down Under” shagging tour. Obviously behind the Minogue sisters à deux (obviously) and Galadriel (I’d certainly use her Ring of Power to dark ends). And if you haven’t dreamed of buggering Cate Blanchett then there is something seriously wrong with you.

By which I mean (sorry to unleash my id and all – and that’s just the shallow end) but – I think I lost my thread. Where was I? Oh, yeah, that lesser tit Cruise who is the opposite of sex. An aeronautical aside here. Leroy Grumman with his penchant for “cat” names had wanted a “Tomcat” since the ’30s but the Navy deemed it “obscene”.*** Got it in the ’70s though. Ladies burnt their bras and we had a sexual revolution for a reason! It was underpowered (until the D model that Grumman had been hollering at the Navy for years over) mind and too big and never a real dog-fighter. I’ve never seen an F-14 in the skies and alas I guess I never will****. But Hell’s teeth those Hughes Phoenix missiles were something else (cost half a million dollars back when that was real money) – nail a spuggy at 100nm. Like to see a F-18 do the same. Maybe with the AESA set and MBDA Meteors. Never with AMRAAMS.

But that is another issue.

*both debatable either way but this is neither the time nor the place…
**My favourite Bonio (like Bob Geldof with more hair ‘product’ utilised) quote is not from him. U2 were playing a gig in Dublin and Bonio was clicking his fingers and syaing “Every time I do this a child in Africa dies”. Some wag at the back hollered, “Well stop fuckin’ doing it then!”. Class.
***The aircraft the Tomcat largely replaced as the USN’s primary fleet defence interceptor was of course the F-4 Phantom II. Now Leroy Grumman was into cats but Jim McDonnell was into the occult. His original name choice was “Satan”. Seriously. The USN might have had Satans on the catapults of the sixth fleet. His second choice was “Mithras”. I would have loved to been a fly on the wall at that meeting.
****Unlike Tom Cruise the F-14 had charisma. When the USN decided to scrap it almost all were trashed even though loads of folks wanted them as gate guardians and the like. The USA was worried parts would go missing in an Iranian direction. Grumman sold The Shah about 80 in the ’70s. They are (to the extent they are still operating) still Iran’s premier interceptor.

The Hunter, His Vegan Boyfriend, and the Bear-Skin Rug

You can just tell this is going to be fucking awesome

Could you tell my boy to calm the heck down? Can’t seem to get him to get the difference between bestiality, necrophilia, and screwin’ a bearskin rug. Emphasizing my usual sexual interests—which involve rope bondage, floggin’, and an e-stim unit—hasn’t worked. Logic isn’t helpin’ out at all. Maybe you can help?

I’m a gay man and a hunter; he’s a gay boy and a vegan. But he likes how I look in my camo, holding a rifle, so it works. Last fall, I went to Idaho and shot a black bear and a 13-point buck. A taxidermist mounted the buck’s head, which hangs above my bed, and made the bear into a rug. Most people don’t know this, but the head on a bearskin rug is entirely fake except for the fur. The skull, teeth, and tongue are plastic, and the eyes are glass. That bear’s hardly a bear, if you catch me.

So we got the rug, and he liked it. Even wanted me to screw him spread-eagle on that rug—until he walked in while I was doing it with the bear. I rigged up the mouth with one of those Fleshlight things, pretty much as a joke, but my boy freaked out when he saw the bear giving me a blowjob of sorts. Called me sick and disgusting, and ever since then, he won’t let me tie him up or beat him or anything. He says he’s afraid I will kill him and then screw him. I keep telling him it was all just a game, but he won’t believe it. What can I do?

Words almost fail even me. I mean I’m pretty open-minded but getting a “blowjob of sorts” from a rug is beyond ridicule. What actually really gets me is that the boyf wandered in on this truly bizarre “scene” (what the devil do you say? “Did you see the Bear’s game? Great game”. Maybe not) and that means this utterly deranged masturbatory experience took place with this bloke’s “boy” in the vicinity. Why not just, you know, have sex with him? You know sex with a person and not a rug? In this case his boyfriend. It works for most of us – sex with another person of the same species is generally rated higher than screwing carpets. Getting a “blowjob of sorts” from a dead bear must surely be very much a minority pursuit. And seeing as the guy’s boyfriend was about surely couldn’t he have provided a genuine blowjob anyway? What manner of utterly, utterly depraved mind jury-rigs a bear sex-doll? And to do it when your sexual partner is in the neck of the woods completely beggars belief (I mean give him a kiss, pour some wine… It’s not rocket science (or even dead bear molestation studies)). I mean it wasn’t as if he had months of enforced sexual abstinence to drive him up the pole. But up the pole he very clearly is. And not a pole I ever want anything to do with.

From here. And that was sent to an agony column in a Washington DC paper. Here is the answer which is brave…

What can you do? You mean besides send video of you and your bear in action to prove this isn’t the most entertaining fake letter I’ve received since Michelle Obama invited me to dinner at Sarah Jessica Parker’s apartment? What can you do besides that?

You can do this: You can draw a distinction between what was going on in that bear’s mouth when your boyfriend walked in and what was going on in your head. When a man beats off—with or without a Fleshlight-enhanced bearskin rug—two things are kindasorta happening simultaneously: what the man is doing with his dick and what the man is imagining he’s doing with his dick. Guys who beat off using a clenched fist, for example, generally aren’t clenched-fist fetishists; they’re just horny and their fists are there and, say, Sarah Jessica Parker isn’t. Fists provide necessary friction; imaginations provide sexy scenarios.

So your boyfriend walked in and saw you fucking the face of a dead bear. That’s gonna look bad, BGA, even to a boyfriend who isn’t vegan. So how do you fix it? By patiently explaining to your vegan boyfriend that while, yes, you were face-fucking a bear when he walked in on you—there’s no denying that—you weren’t thinking about face-fucking a bear. Tell him you were thinking about him, and the bear’s mouth was just a convenient place to wedge your vegan-boyfriend-substitute, i.e., your Fleshlight. Tell your boyfriend you don’t entertain any murderous fantasies, tell him you only long to fuck living things, and tell him that Homo sapiens are the only animals you find attractive.

Tell him all of that, BGA, even if not all of that is entirely true.

H/T my wife. She is also vegan. She has never though, as far as I know, fucked a dead bear (or indeed a living one). We would have words over either! And the growling would be something else.


I was born in 1973.

I vaguely recall the antics in the Mid-East and things like the Iranian revolution.

But the real big-hitter of my primary school days was the Falklands war. My primary school headmaster flew a union flag on the day Stanley was liberated. It was a sort of coming of age thing. A sort of baptism in fire of the fact there was a world far beyond my mates house down the road and a genuine feeling of pride (seeing the task force – a point rarely noted – certainly not by the BBC when the sailors lined the sides of their ships one of their wives, from portside, gave her hubby (and of course a hell of a lot of others) a final (at least for a bit) glegg at her breasts – perhaps it is sometimes The Sun what won it. Yes, I recall it very clearly and the pain and loss that followed. The tits, the harriers, Goose Green, Sheffield, Belgrano, the fact that like every small boy in Britain I really, really wanted an Airfix Sea Harrier FRS1 and it seemed to take an age for my dad to get one (they were sold out). Probably a couple of weeks but that is an eternity at that age.

There is much to say tactically about the conflict that I won’t bore you about. Things like the chronic unreliability of Sea Dart or the short legs of the Harrier or even that the Belgrano was hit with two torpedoes (a major issue in Argentina – “The first was war, the second was murder”) not because we were attempting to politically escalate or cause a hecatomb but the commander of HMS Conqueror had no choice and fired a spread of Mark VIII torpedoes from the 1920s and two hit. The new wire-guided Tigerfish didn’t actually work. We kept quiet about that for a bit. I mean the Sovs would have laughed their asses off.

So, other than strictly tactical stuff goes I don’t know what to say…

So I’ll leave it to Flying Tiger Comics commenting at Samizdata

It’s something that should be emphasised, not glossed over- Thatcher wasn’t a warmonger, but when confronted with a challenge for which she did not ask, she did the correct, and risky thing, not the easy and weak thing.

Yes, she did. The general narrative is too frequently that Maggie brought this on her self as a last ditch attempt to win the ’83 election (against Michael Foot’s Labour?) and not the truth that it was the last throw of the dice by a vile Junta in Buenos Aires. Maggie took a heck of a risk and we won very narrowly. Would iDave do the same? Whaddya think? We had a leader back then of courage. And it was globally noted.

The Statutory Rape of Justin Bieber…

… sounds like the sort of ghastly play (possibly with Daniel Radcliffe in the eponymous role – well the boy wizard did get his wand out in ‘Equus’ on the London stage a bit back) that wins Olivier awards…

Well, as RAB said earlier I have been in Poland so missed the “Cats-astrophy” he mentions but that doesn’t mean I’ve existed merely in a Silesian bubble of pierogi and pilsner without any news of the outside world. Well, it was mainly about Eurozone Bubbles and Grief* and that bores me senseless now but the Justin Bieber story caught me right out of left field.

In case you are not aware of the works of the Canadian boy-wonder and his terrible (and alas much emulated – even in a provincial town in Poland!) barnet then here is the laddy himself…

Not exactly Elvis in his hip-swinging, lip-curling prime is he? I mean as something for lasses to swoon over he doesn’t even look gay does he? He looks like the ganger version of Barbie the un-nippled’s Ken. It goes without saying that his ‘music’ makes Hanson sound like the Sex Pistols. He sounds like Paul McCartney’s “Frog Chorus” on helium. What is wrong with the teenagers of today when a 38 year-old git like me is objectively cooler? I mean in the past kids outraged their parents by being, well, outrageous (Teds, Rockers, Punks, Goths, Metallers, Madchester, Grunge and all that) and now they do it by being stuuningly bland (or in the case of Emos – sort of dismal sprogs of the Goths and the Indy Kids – utterly pathetic). What happened to the gobbing and swearing, the fighting, the shagging and the puking? The thrills, pills and bellyaches?

Anyway, back to the story. Basically when Bieber was 16 (he’s now 17 – bless!) he allegedly had sex with an older woman. The allegations are coming from the older woman who has given birth to a child (in July). And if you’re thinking “Here’s to you Mrs Robinson!” then forget it because the “older woman” is now twenty so was nineteen when the deed was done.

As the teen heartthrob’s obsessed fans, known as “Beliebers”, vented their anger towards Miss Yeater, 20, Californian police were poised to launch an investigation into the dramatic claims.

Pop-star shags groupie! Yes, that’s dramatic isn’t it? I mean it’s a “perk” of the job like temps having access to the stationary cupboard. And “Beliebers”… Dear Gods upon Olympus! It’s like Beatlemania for the educationally sub-normal branch of the twitter generation.

[An aside I also heard that Lindsay Lohan - ask Cats about her! may serve 1-2 days of a 30 day sentence due to the 'Golden State's' prison over-crowding for yet another parole violation and California's law agencies are investigating this!]

He is claimed to have told the fan that it was his “first time” before quickly removing his clothes. The liaison is said to have lasted about 30 seconds in a backstage lavatory.

I don’t buy the “removing clothes” angle (and perhaps light some candles and pour a rather cheeky vintage…) because that is not lavatorial sex as I am given to understand it – zip down, tackle out and that’s foreplay done and dusted. Anyway, 30 seconds in the bogs – he certainly was (allegedly) “Just in Beaver”.

Obviously Yeater is after a massive slice of pie in terms of child-support monies but now let us muddy the waters further…

If Miss Yeater’s claims are true she leaves herself vulnerable to possible prosecution for statutory rape of a minor. Now that is surreal. I know a bit about statutory rape law in the US and how vile that legal framework is. It’s a sort of strict liability thing isn’t it? Two teenagers shagging may in many circumstances be inadvisable but to define it as criminal is cruel and unusual. Apparently the age of consent in California is 18 which quite surprised me.

Bieber is currently dating Selena Gomez, a 19-year-old actress best known for her Disney Channel appearances.

Interesting. And the difference is? Well according to the Beliebers there is only one of the two they want to kill in a sort of Dionysian orgy…

One young female fan ‘BeccaLindsay’ tweeted: “I could kill this b—-, really she messes with my baby!!! SHE IS SOOO DEAD.

“Don’t mess with the Beliebers and don’t make us go REALLY protective over Justin Bieber! Marian Yeater, really leave him alone, we don’t want you … She is such a s—. F*** her … She is just a whore.”

And much more like that. Bitchy isn’t it? I mean either these teen girls want to make him apple pies and mother him or they dreamed of getting the first bite of Bland Canadian Cherry themselves. Probably, I would guess, a strange mix of the two. A mash-up that follows like an Aristotelian syllogism in the mind of a fourteen year-old girl but makes absolutely no sense to anyone else whatsoever. I remember when Bros split-up and the weeping and wailing and the rending of garments and the gnashing of the teeth.

Now, obviously, Justin Bieber is a ‘devout Christian’ (and indeed has at gigs cautioned against casual sex) but even if you didn’t know that you really did at some level didn’t you? Otherwise why the hoo-hah? It’s like the music industry has had an “Oops! I did it again”** moment (yet again). At the risk of sounding philosophical I find it superficially truly bizarre that there is clearly a market for the virgin/whore essential tension (now with added male/female ‘equality’!) in pop music because it is placing ancient (and still current) themes from classical and Judeo-Christianity culture right at the heart of post-modern disposable culture. In that sense it at least seems to involve a curious marriage of the deeply continuous and the shallowly temporal I obliquely compared the Beliebers to Beetlemania. Anyone likely to be around then care to wager a Coke that people will be listening to the Beatles 50 years from now but Bieber will be long forgotten? Not all of the Beatles stuff – obviously. I suspect what will last of them will be earlier stuff. The songs with sass, attitude, wit and charisma. Four things which Justin Bieber (despite his undoubted many ‘endearing’ – possibly to grannies – “Such a nice boy” qualities) singularly lacks. Yet the Beatles didn’t really mine the same seam did they? To mix metaphors (sort of) they paddled their own canoe and built their own mythos within the context of perhaps the most heavily mythologized decade in (at least recent) history. In this context I can’t help but quote Larkin,

Sexual intercourse began in 1963 (which was rather late for me) — Between the end of the Chatterley ban and the Beatles first LP.

My point here is not to score the low-hanging-fruit (Miss Yeater apparently got to Master Bieber’s plums first anyway so put those suds in your pipes and blow bubbles with it Beliebers) of saying the Beatles were better than Bieber but to make the perhaps peculiar point that in a strange sense (in terms of the ‘personalities’ if not the music or lyrics) that the contemporary bubble-gum machine churns out there is a desperate need to have ‘archetypes’ rather than ‘characters’. I guess it makes sense if taken in the context of a Worholian conception of fame in which it surely follows all stars must now be high concept*** and the virgin/whore thing is very high concept. It has to be to push the ‘sleb cycle all the way around in the statutory fifteen minutes. Interestingly Andy Worhol was brought up Catholic as was Madonna Ciccone. Even more interestingly their works seem to have a lastability about them. Perhaps that is because they play (played in the case of Worhol) with concepts they understand (understood) viscerally and perhaps just on sheer talent and application. Arguably Madonna took the virgin/whore archetypes to such dizzying heights as to become the archetype.

I dunno. This post opens up more questions for me than it answers and naturally of course the ‘rape’ and ‘fatherhood’ of Master Bieber**** is most likely possibly nonsense but there are other quesions about the nature of sexual mores this century, the state’s involvement in such and why the current music scene is dull. Unfortunately as far as how to be truly rock ‘n’ roll Mr Keith Richards was unfortunately unavailable for comment.

Now perhaps you’re wondering (I bet you are not) why I took my quotes on this story from The Telegraph? Well, Google took me their first(ish) (It’s now 15 seconds of fame Andy and the clock was ticking!) and because of the first paragraph of the article which is truly an odd gem…

Justin Bieber’s fanatical followers have issued online death threats against Mariah Yeater, the older woman who claims to have fathered his love child after a backstage encounter.

That is either perverse genius or a staggering indictment of Telegraph sub-editors’s woeful knowledge of the absolute basics of mammalian reproduction.

*That’s quite clever that is.
** A reference of course to the crashed and burned Virgin Goddess, Britney. Like Bieber’s ‘proper girlfriend’ another alumni of Disney.
***For me the summit of high concept is the movie “Snakes on a Plane”. I mean just from those four words (and two of them not ‘proper words’) you or I could hack out a script. I mean you just know at one point someone will sit down on the lavvy and get bitten on the asp.
**** I was so tempted to call him “Master Beaver” to vaguely reff “Narnia: Uncut”.

%d bloggers like this: