Sigh…

Hard to believe we graduated from high school 55 years ago…

We’re sure not 18 anymore… we’re old, fat, and missing a lot of hair. But it was great to see folks, and spend some time just catching up!

And folks came in from NYC, Florida, Arizona, and a few other states. A number of us are veterans, and we were commiserating about the state of the services today, until the ladies told us to shut up and party…LOL

There is one last get together this morning, and folks will be heading out after that. It has been

Book Promo…

First up is Alma TC Boykin’s latest Familiars book- Healers, Hunters, and Hearts

As always, click on the cover for the Amazon link.

The blurb-

Birds of mischief flock together …

Healer and Hunter, Deborah Chan Lestrang makes her way in the world as an herbalist and Healer who also hunts fell creatures when needed. Tensions inside her extended family call for a healer of hearts as well—a task far trickier, perhaps, than easing physical pain.

Weaker magic workers report being harassed by birds, birds inside a shield. Foul creatures appear, brought by a gate-spell cast by a coven. Or was it?

An old ill resurfaces …

Word comes from the north of a new drug, one that seems to grant magical abilities to those who take it. And that does not kill them as quickly as heart’s fire did. Could the birds of ill omen and the new pharmaceutical be related?

Next is James Totten with a new short story in his Breaching Ain’t Easy world- Annie’s Got A Gun

The blurb-

Ukraine is becoming a very dangerous place. Suicide drones attack civilians and infrastructure with impunity after all of the $100k surface to air missiles are gone and the “flack tracks” run out of bullets. In a horror show of a war, it’s time for some good old American ingenuity. Pole Dance Aviation, a Private Military Company, is established by its charismatic owner Jason Kane to assist with counter drone operations. Flying highly modified Cold War airframes, PDA gets down to the nitty gritty of shooting suicide drones out of the sky far cheaper than launching missiles that cost thousands of dollars a shot to kill hundred dollar drones. What happens if a PDA aircraft gets shot down? Send in the downed aircraft crew recovery platoon, The Shitheads, and they will fast rope into hell to get the pilots out. No fight is too tough and no enemy to too bad to keep the Shitheads from doing the deed and getting the pilots back. The Shitheads are supported by a cast of character’s, planes with call signs like Spy and Fat Amy, pilots named Axel and GO Juice, and leaders named Turtle and Mikey (that pre-workout fueled fight junkie will eat ANYTHING). Come along for the nonstop thrill ride set in the near future with headlines ripped out of tomorrow’s news feed. Oh, did I mention, Annie… yeah, she is there too, and she got a gun!! Mount up for grueling action as the Shitheads take on all comers in this high tech fight to the death on tomorrow’s battlefield in Eastern Ukraine!
And last but not least, Raconteur Press with another Wyrd West anthology- Cursed Canyon

The blurb-

What tales are you fixin’ to encounter here? You may encounter an inexperienced, in-over-his-head County Wizard trying to settle a dispute between landowners who seem to have escalated to using black magic in their feud. Or you might find a preacher and hooker fighting to save their town from some cult-like evil. Shapeshifters and werewolves may appear in one or t’other.

On the edges of civilization, here is where humanity encounters the wyrd in these tales of the Old West! The dangers are far more than the battle with nature–ride along with these authors into the strangest places, where the stories of the bold and the adventurous can claim to have survived the unknown.

Enjoy them and enjoy your weekend!!!

When…

Does this crap end, or does it???

Two Canadians founded a boba tea company. Then the “anti-racist” mob came for them.

It all began when Sébastien Fiset and Jessica Frenette, a couple of Quebec entrepreneurs, started a bottled bubble tea brand called Bobba (officially Distribution Bobba Inc.) and then pitched their project last week on “Dragons’ Den,” which is essentially Canada’s equivalent of “Shark Tank.” Fiset and Frenette were seeking $1 million in exchange for 18 percent of the company.

They ended up getting much more than they bargained for: A pitchfork army banging down their door.

Full article, HERE from Town Hall.

So, even though they are working with people in Taiwan to make the product, since THEY aren’t Taiwanese, they are ‘charged’ with cultural appropriation by actor Simu Liu, who was a ‘guest’ on the show…

Should we be checking who owns ANY restaurant we walk into to make sure it’s ‘culturally correct’?

Or should we only eat foods that are ‘culturally correct’ for who we are? And what happens when you have a ‘mixed culture’ marriage? Say an Icelander married to a Hispanic? One eats only fish and the other only Mexican (not TexMex) foods?

What happened to the days when you were allowed to succeed on your OWN merits, regardless of what you were and what you were selling?

And able to eat or drank what you liked, regardless of where it comes from?

Internet problems…

I can’t get to the net, so go read the folks on the sidebar. Hopefully, will get this cleared up sometime today.

Posted from my iPhone.

A little humor…

I know it’s WAY early, but funny as hell, considering what is going on these days…

And this one came over the transom from the mil email net… LOL

T’was the Night before Christmas (contract version written by HR)

‘Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the annual Yuletide celebration, and throughout our place of residence, kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this potential, including that species of domestic rodent known as Mus musculus.

Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the wood burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among whose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St. Nicholas.

The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual hallucinations of variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically through their cerebrums. My conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal head coverings, were about to take slumberous advantage of the hibernal darkness when upon the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascended such a cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alacrity from my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise source thereof.

Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing this fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance without, reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystalline precipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar meridian itself – thus permitting my incredulous optical sensory organs to behold a miniature airborne runnered conveyance drawn by eight diminutive specimens of the genus Rangifer, piloted by a minuscule, aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated caller. With his ungulate motive power travelling at what may possibly have been more vertiginous velocity than patriotic alar predators, he vociferated loudly, expelled breath musically through contracted labia, and addressed each of the octet by his or her respective cognomen – “Now Dasher, now Dancer…” et al. – guiding them to the uppermost exterior level of our abode, through which structure I could readily distinguish the concatenations of each of the 32 cloven pedal extremities.

As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location, and was performing a 180-degree pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved – with utmost celerity and via a downward leap – entry by way of the smoke passage. He was clad entirely in animal pelts soiled by the ebony residue from oxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on the walls thereof. His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed largely to the plethora of assorted playthings which he bore dorsally in a commodious cloth receptacle.

His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his submaxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging amiability. The capillaries of his malar regions and nasal appurtenance were engorged with blood which suffused the subcutaneous layers, the former approximating the coloration of Albion’s floral emblem, the latter that of the Prunus avium, or sweet cherry. His amusing sub- and supralabials resembled nothing so much as a common loop knot, and their ambient hirsute facial adornment appeared like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water.

Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smoking piece whose grey fumes, forming a tenuous ellipse about his occiput, were suggestive of a decorative seasonal circlet of holly. His visage was wider than it was high, and when he waxed audibly mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region undulated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemispherical container. He was, in short, neither more nor less than an obese, jocund, multigenarian gnome, the optical perception of whom rendered me visibly frolicsome despite every effort to refrain from so being. By rapidly lowering and then elevating one eyelid and rotating his head slightly to one side, he indicated that trepidation on my part was groundless.

Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling the aforementioned appended hosiery with various of the aforementioned articles of merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of this task, he executed an abrupt about-face, placed a single manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ, inclined his cranium forward in a gesture of leave-taking, and forthwith effected his egress by renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke passage. He then propelled himself in a short vector onto his conveyance, directed a musical expulsion of air through his contracted oral sphincter to the antlered quadrupeds of burden, and proceeded to soar aloft in a movement hitherto observable chiefly among the seed-bearing portions of a common weed. But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible immediately prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits of visibility: “Ecstatic Yuletide to the planetary constituency, and to that self same assemblage, my sincerest wishes for a salubriously beneficial and gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and dawn.”

A new offense???

Apparently the perpetually offended have found a ‘new’ thing to be offended about…

Designers aren’t perfect. Sometimes a designer can create a logo or product that communicates a message that nobody intended to come through. Those mistakes can sometimes be embarrassing.

Bath & Body Works recently released a line of winter-themed candles just in time for Christmas shopping. One of the candles is called “Snowed In,” and the artwork on the outside of the jar is supposed to evoke those paper cut-out snowflakes that we call made as kids.

There’s one teeny-tiny problem with the artwork. Some people say that it looks like Ku Klux Klan hoods.

Full article, HERE.

Now I’ll be the first one to admit I don’t shop there, and I don’t ‘do’ candles unless they are emergency candles…

But I kinda doubt Bath & Body supports the KKK. After all, they obviously didn’t ‘see’ the problem, nor did anyone else until it hit the shelves. I just have to wonder who jumped on this one and how it got such wide dissemination so quickly.

It’s also interesting to note that Bath & Body immediately caved to the wokies, pulled the candle, and apologized. I just wonder if there will be a sacrificial firing to go with it?

You know what really scares me? These people vote… sigh…

Success!!!

For those who may not have been following the SpaceX saga…

They launched Starship 5 yesterday morning for a successful test!!!

Much more successful than anyone expected. Got to 36:45 in the video and watch the end of it.

Yep, they ‘caught’ the booster!!! Amazing!

Say what you will about Musk, but the SpaceX crew is phenomenal! That they could come up with the idea, and then take it to execution is unbelievable…

And yet .gov is going after him every way they can, including slow rolling the Starship testing, along with the games being played by the CCC in Kommiefornia over extra SpaceX launches from Vandenberg.

This has renewed my excitement for our space program, in spite of NASA…

Sigh…

 

And they strike again…

The infamous California Coastal Commission has their panties in a wad again…

Elon Musk’s tweets about the presidential election and spreading falsehoods about Hurricane Helene are endangering his ability to launch rockets off California’s central coast.

The California Coastal Commission on Thursday rejected the Air Force’s plan to give SpaceX permission to launch up to 50 rockets a year from Vandenberg Air Force Base in Santa Barbara County.

“Elon Musk is hopping about the country, spewing and tweeting political falsehoods and attacking FEMA while claiming his desire to help the hurricane victims with free Starlink access to the internet,” Commissioner Gretchen Newsom said at the meeting in San Diego.

Full article, HERE from Politico.

I’ve had ‘some’ experience with the CCC in the past, and it wasn’t fun. They ‘hate’ the military and anything to do with the Navy operating ‘anywhere’ off California…

And because they are appointed, they operate on feelz a lot… So if they feelz slighted by anyone not kowtowing to them, they tend to…react negatively. Mostly because they know no one in the California power structure is going to override them.

And as usual, they blame, in this case, the USAF for ‘not complying’ with their wishes…

Sigh…

Wow…

Just…wow…

Scotland has reportedly enacted new abortion laws that could land religious people in trouble with authorities if they pray in their homes — if the homes are in designated abortion “safe access zones.”

The UK has become infamous in recent months for its crackdown on free speech (except when the “free speech” involves Muslim migrants cheering on terrorism). Scotland’s hate speech laws in particular have drawn criticism from free speech advocates across the political spectrum. A new report says that even Christians and other religious pro-lifers praying inside their own homes or displaying religious symbols could be in trouble if pro-abortion radicals in the area perceive the religious actions as a threat to their baby killing.

Full article, HERE.

I literally have no words…

Yes, it IS real…

The Waffle House index and storm center are a thing…

It wasn’t until we hit the South that we became aware of the ultimate ubiquitous meeting and eating “place.” That yellow jacket combination of bright yellow and black sign rising above an interstate on a 150-foot-tall pole or shimmering in the fog on a backcountry Carolina or Panhandle road.

The Waffle House.

They were everywhere. ARE everywhere, and everyone loves them.

Here in Pensacola, I counted roughly 16 on a Google map search within what we consider the Pensacola area. That’s before it stretches out to the wilds of the back county. And you know they have them, too – never you doubt it.

Full article, HERE from HotAir.

Yes, I know everybody has their favorite restaurants, but if you’ve been through the south, you have at least encountered a waffle house. And they are equal opportunity offenders, everyone is welcome, and everyone knows exactly what kind of food they’re going to get. It will not be gourmet, but it will be edible and reasonably priced.

You can’t ask much more than that anymore! I’m out of pocket for the day open Oklahoma City, dealing with the VA, so comments and reading blogs and stuff will be slow at best.