Category: Moonbattery

Say what you want about these boys, they really know how to cut through it.

To be totally honest with you, though, I didn’t see this one coming the way it did. Just watch and see for yourself (tip o’ the chapeau to this blog here).

I have to confess that I’ve been on this bandwagon a bit myself, albeit with a little more skepticism than some of the hapless do-gooders you’ll see in this episode. I knew that some recycling was a net loss, that aluminum was worth the effort, all that stuff. But I didn’t know just how craptastic the whole affair was.

Guess it just goes to show you really do learn something new every day. Hmm.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Good gawd, but sometimes the kooks on the left can be so damned funny, you’ll think you need to try on some Depends®.

Take this little vaginal yodeler for example. Not only is she well and right off her friggin’ nut, she’s also downright, good ol’-fashioned, bag-o-hammers dumb. Go on over and check it out. Read the whole thing. Listen to the MP3 of the call. I’ll wait.

Back yet? Okay.

Yup, you read that right. Little miss “I will kill the campus pro-lifers and eat their hearts” loves to dish shit out but goes right off the rails whenever anyone even looks sideways at her. Yup, she’s a Femboob, alright. And as everyone knows, in the magical lollipop land of Fembozostan, things are a little different than they are here. For a few examples:

In Fembozostan…

• it’s the ones who make the threatening phone calls who are being stalked, not the ones getting them.
• being a local blogger and getting invited to a gathering of local bloggers is a form of harassment.
• dumbass shit you put online can disappear down the memory hole quicker than Emily Litella can say “never mind.”
• voicemail is a wiretap.
• “fuck the back off” means something. Not sure what, but something.
• calling ‘bullshit’ on one screeching textbook case of estrogen poisoning-induced misandry is an attack on blogging broads everywhere (peeing while standing is probably bad, too).

But remember, boys and girls: just because they poop where they eat, doesn’t mean that they’re not the victims. Always. Now go someplace and feel bad about your penis and don’t forget to pick up a copy of the vagina monologues Twat Twaddle©.

Toodles.

How dare we?

Just what the hell were we thinking?

Just who the hell do we think we are to have the gall to try and speak out in defence of our democratic heritage on THEIR DAY without clearing it with the feminists first?

In case you haven’t figured it out, tomorrow’s Rally For Canada events, organized to protest the Sedition Coalition’s™ attempted coup d’etat, is falling on the same day as the annual National Never Hear The End Of It Day Montreal Massacre Memorial Antipenis Rally… and the Fembots® are pissed:

Holding a political rally on a day set aside to remember women who have been victims of violence is “a slap in the face,” a London MP charged yesterday.

An angry London-Fanshawe NDP MP Irene Mathyssen was joined by women’s advocates who also said rallies tomorrow to protest attempts in Ottawa to replace the Harper federal government with a coalition party are inappropriate.

“For them to use a day to remember our obligation to women . . . for their crass political purpose is beyond description,” said Mathyssen.

Yeah, right. And it’s not like the Leftoids used Gamil Gharbi and 14 dead women for their own political purposes or anything like that.  The Feminazis have been politicizing the whole damn thing for nearly 20 years and using Gamil Gharbi as a cudgel with which to guilt-beat an entire generation of males who never did a damn thing to any woman.  Yes, Gamil Gharbi. What do you mean, you’ve never heard of him?? Of course you have; he killed 14 young women and wounded 13 more with a Ruger Mini-14 at L’Ecole Polytechnic in Montreal in 1989. But you never hear that, do you?

It was the feminists who started this whole “crass political purpose” bullshit in the first place, so they’ve got no business whining now.  STFU.

Megan Walker, executive director of the London Abused Women’s Centre, called the rallies’ timing “inappropriate.”

“It speaks to me about how insignificant Dec. 6 has become . . .” Walker said, adding she’d feel the same way about any political rally being held tomorrow. “The government has failed in sending the message Dec. 6 is a national day of remembrance.”

No, Megan, your beloved Big Nanny Government® hasn’t failed anything. Canadians in general — and, let’s be honest, men in particular — are just sick and tired of being browbeaten over the actions of an Algerian-born son of a wife-beating Islamofascist, dressed up in the pseudonym of “Marc Lepine.”

Here’s a secret: Marc Lepine didn’t do it. There IS NO Marc Lepine. There never was. He only existed on paper. Gamil did it all.

But you didn’t know that, did you? After all, a name like “Gamil Gharbi” and the whole Algerian-born son of a Muslim wife-beater thing would be very politically incorrect to point out, not to mention rather unwieldy as a PR tool. No, a much better name is the one that he took in 1977. Flinging the name “Gamil Gharbi” around might raise questions about Islam, Algerian culture, his ancestry and upbringing, etc etc etc, and all kinds of other potentially politically incorrect implications that could prove pretty problematic for the malingering malcontents in the man-hater menagerie.

But “Marc Lepine?” Aaahh, that’s perfect: it just sounds soooo… so Canadian; so white; so safe to demonize. And for ten long years, that was the only name that we knew him by.  It wasn’t until the TO Star published it that anybody knew. And so, every year, the sixth of December becomes a day not so much about honouring the dead as dishonouring the living, as “Marc Lepine” is held up as the symbol of the murderous misogyny that lurks within all men. He was held up as the perfect example of the evil — and, we were told, typical — Canadian male.

So go ahead. Get together tomorrow and have whatever the hell it is that’s the feminist version of a circle-jerk. We have more important things to do.

Besides, those from my generation are getting fed up with getting blamed, ad nauseum, for something we didn’t do and those of my son’s generation are sick and tired of getting nagged over something that happened before they were born.

If Gamil Gharbi’s my fault, then Karla Homolka’s your damned fault. Make sure to get back to somebody on that one.

Ah, well now, wouldya just lookie here? All the class acts are just poppin’ outta the woodwork like daisies through the snow in springtime.

As most longtime readers know, I’m not big on responding to the comments on this site. Yes, I know that makes me a very, very bad blogger but the fact is that I just don’t have the time to go sifting through all the stuff that gets fired my way. Seeing as how I’m not one of those clowns wanking away at his keyboard in his parents’ basement and have bills of my own to pay, other things just plain have to take priority.

So, to all the nice folks who have stopped by now and then to say something nice, or even something constructive that I didn’t agree with: thanks. Even though I don’t say it often enough, it’s always nice to know that someone’s listening to my cathartic little rants.

To the bozos that I’ll be talking about in today’s post: bite me.

Today, I’m actually going to take a little time to check out some of the latest comments to the site (in the last few days or so) and toss back my own two bits because, well… I have nothing else to do for a change. And you can only rant about diddling shitbags and Leftbot idiocy so much before it even starts to get on your own nerves.

So, without further ado, allow me to introduce you to some of the creme de la crap that have stopped by lately to hack up one of their little hairballs on my own little cyber-rug. The fun part is deciding where to start…

Anybody who’s poked around here at all knows that a) I’m a gun owner, b) I support gun owners’ rights and c) I support the right of each and every Canadian to be fully able to defend themselves from any scumbag that tries to hurt them. Some numbskulls, however, just can’t resist the siren call of the ol’ reductio ad absurdum. Guys like “Anonymous,” (is it just me, or does that clown seem to be every damned where in cyberspace?) who posted this little nugget from his Cowtown-based IP in my July 23rd post, here, just the other day:

There is an obvious problem with allowing Canadians to carry guns…then idiots like you and your reactionary friends will be walking around with lethal weapons as a substitute for brains. You are just the type of asshole who would shoot a “coloured feller” if he looked at you funny, you know, just to be safe. Hell you might even move from beating your wife to shooting her. Hey, I’m all for carrying guns, but only if right wing, fundamentalist nut-jobs like you are barred from doing so. Sigh, I yearn for the days when “conservative” meant “wise” and I was proud to call myself one. Now conservative is merely euphemistic for “crazy, uber-religious, Leviticus obeying redneck.”

I seriously hope you’re sterile. Seeing shitbrains like you reminds me of why I support eugenics.

The argumentum ad hominem is blatantly obvious: if you can’t win the argument, attack the messenger. Move along, folks; nothing to think here. Never mind that, like Anonymous here, a certain fellow with a ridiculous mustache (who, in keeping with Godwin’s Law, shall remain nameless here) also wanted to ban gun ownership… from certain people. No, he never outright banned gun ownership (as some on my side of the argument will, maddeningly, insist), but he did pass the 1938 German Weapons Act, which served to restrict gun ownership to “persons whose trustworthiness is not in question.” In other words: NotTheJews®. Come to think of it, the high-strung little nameless Austrian was big on eugenics, too.

And before I forget: my son likes to shoot, too. I got him his first rifle when he was 12 and he still has it. This year for his birthday, he’s getting his CFSC (restricted) and his minors license, paid for by dear ol’ Dad. 😉

Next up, we have little Norm from someplace deep in the heart o’ La Mooch Provence, where there are no problems that the ROC’s money can’t solve. Norm couldn’t pick a post, it seems, so he just hacked one up on the front hall rug. Two of ’em, in fact:

I don’t know what you are doing in Canada buddy, brain-dead turds like you belong in Texas. You are exactly the type of man to end up murdered by his own children, no wonder you’re so against the youth crime act. Oh wait, no woman would procreate with you. No kids. That explains your anger at the world! Now stick your long gun up your anus and dream of harper.

Is it just me, or do these clowns have a somewhat …ahem… unhealthy obsession with my reproductive habits? 😯 My li’l ol’ Furry Pogo Stick Of Loveâ„¢, where it’s been, and what I do with it when it gets there, are none of your damned business, boys. Get over it, already.

What I’m doing in Canada, Normie, is being a Canadian. If you have a problem with that, have yourself a little referendum, get the hell out, and quit acting like the surly teenager living in mom and dad’s basement. Then he has this:

Dear reader, do you notice how right-wing cowards are so afraid to post their last name or even an email address to contact them? If anybody can post this guys last name I bet we’ll discover he’s a got a criminal rap sheet longer than his favorite rifle.

Dear Normie, did you ever notice that it only seems to be knuckleheads like you that have trouble getting ahold of me or figuring out who I am? Plenty of smart people — and plenty of dumb ones, too 🙄 — have had no trouble at all either sending me an email or figuring out exactly who I am. Must be just you.

And yeah, I did have a few run-ins with the law when I was younger; never said I didn’t. But I never sold dope, or stabbed anybody, or raped anybody, or shot anybody, or mugged anybody, or murdered anybody, or swarmed anybody, or… well, you get the idea. And, because I got charged under the JDA and not the YCJA, nobody ever had any trouble figuring out what I’d been up to.

Next up, we have Anonymous again, this time posting from a US-based IP (damn, but that bugger gets around). Apparently, he has a thing for homicidal jailbait:

She’s kinda sexy; No?

And some folks are worried about me breeding. Sheesh… 🙄

Damn. That was more fun than I thought it would be. I’m gonna have to do this more often…

Ah yes, Brainfartgate© (Hey, why the hell not? Nobody else has bothered to give the damned thing a name, have they?), the gift that just keeps on giving.

Seriously, I couldn’t have more fun with a train wreck on TiVo.  In Smell-O-Visionâ„¢.

You’ve heard the fart, you’ve seen the noses wrinkle, now let’s see what else we have in Santa’s great big sack…

• Ol’ Steve’s on the hapless bugger like a pit bull on a mailman:
  

  “His answer is, in French and in English, ‘I don’t have a plan. Yes, I criticized the prime minister, but I don’t actually have a plan other than a carbon tax. Please elect me so I can develop one.”‘

• Dion calls Harper a great big meanie.
• Dion plays the “I’m disabled and don’t speak English” card:
  

  He also pointed out that he has a slight hearing problem and that he was doing the interview in his English, his second language.

• Some bozos jumped on that bandwagon (NP? WTF??):
  

  But spare some empathy for Mr. Dion. It’s the end of a grueling campaign, the man has admitted to a hearing impairment and the question was open to interpretation while being phrased in Mr. Dion’s second language.

• Steve (Janke-not-Harper) isn’t buying that line:
  

  The question was not really that hard to understand. Sure, it was bit more complicated than “What’s your favourite colour?” or “What’s the average air speed of an African swallow?”

• Andrew (no apparent relation to Harry) Potter over at MacLean’s wants to shoot the messenger:
  

  This is worse than the Chretien face-paralysis attack ad. CTV just won Dion the election.

A couple of quick vids for gun owners out there. The first one comes from Tony Bernardo of the CSSA/CILA:

The second one comes from Katey Montague. You remember Katey, don’t you? Well, here’s what she has to say now:

Kinda compelling for a kid, isn’t she?