Black Friday

Everyone likes Thanksgiving leftovers, right? At least, that's the theory behind our doing this repost of our "Black Friday" blog from a couple of years ago, so we can continue to enjoy our tryptophan coma rather than working, thinking, or moving today. We'll probably still fart from time to time but, truthfully, that's not really limited to the day after Thanksgiving...

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Robinson Crusoe goes shopping

No politics or editorializing today - just continuing good wishes for all who are enjoying leftovers and a salute to those of you who are hitting the stores today in search of crazy deals.

Mind you, we think fighting the crowds is borderline insane - but it's good for the economy, so more power to you! And now that we reflect on it, a $300 big screen TV would look good here in the office and it would be a business deduction. Hmm...

High Crimes and Table Manners

Yesterday, President Trump did the annual pardoning of Thanksgiving turkeys (there were two this year, named "Bread" and "Butter"), and we're fairly positive that there must be a lot of people angry about this for whatever reasons they can cook up in their fevered minds ("Sure - he pardons white turkeys!")

We're looking forward to Thanksgiving with the Texas portion of our family tomorrow, overeating, and catching up on family news. And the Jarlsberg family has much to be grateful for this year, not the least of which is simply being together.

Since we're already prepping for the big day, we're going to share some of our favorite Thanksgiving leftover cartoons from years past, and wish all of you a great and meaningful Thanksgiving. It is a day to celebrate and show gratitude and humility for the many blessings bestowed on all of us, including our friendships (whether in person or meeting here in the electronic ether).

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving!   

Puttin' On The Dog

We weren't able to write a regular blog post for today owing to extenuating circumstances. Specifically, we had a wedding to attend (a very nice neighbor boy who we watched grow up) and the occasion demanded greater attention to grooming and fashion than is usually required for our grubby, hermit-like existence.

Seriously, one of the real delights of being self-employed and working from home is the extreme latitude one can apply to how many days of the week "casual Friday" can be observed. Not to mention how easily "casual" can then be defined down to "disheveled" without social repercussions.

But more was called for on this special day, which meant spending a lot more time getting ready than would be the case if we adhered to traditional standards of grooming and hygiene.  For instance, we thought it best to trim our beard to look a bit less homeless and, for good measure, to shave off the weird "neck beard" which had already passed our adam's apple and had eyes on reaching our sternum. Hair trimmers were also applied to our sideburns in order to reveal the existence of ears on our noggin.

We then had a nice hot shower - a ritual which we perform borrowing a tradition from the Jewish rite of Shiva, in which all of the bathroom mirrors are covered. Not that we're ashamed of our body, exactly - we're just tired of paying to replace cracked mirrors.

Then it was time to dress, which presented its own unique challenges considering we don't own a lot of what the world considers to be "grown-up" clothes. Miraculously, we had a pair of black jeans which fit in a too tight, muffin-top producing way. If the brass button holding things together burst, we figured we could pass it off as a champagne cork exploding.

We had a nice long sleeved dress shirt which we had worn for an event some months ago and rehung without washing as being "probably okay." A sniff of the shirt's armpits was largely inoffensive, so there was another piece of the ensemble. The important bit was a proper looking sport coat, which we had purchased so recently that it actually fit.

This is something of a rarity, as we are so rarely called upon to wear that kind of thing that our average sport coat only sees the light of day at one or two funerals or rare business events before being squirreled away in the closet to gather dust and fall out of style, during which time we eat nuts and berries to store fat for the winter. And the other seasons.

In the end, we affected a natty enough look that the always stunning Mrs. J wasn't ashamed to be seen on our arm, and no one at the wedding laughed out loud - which is really all we can ask.

So our sartorial adventure had a satisfactory conclusion, but left us no time to delve deeply into current news events today. But fear not, our next fashion report will again be limited to which liar's pants are on fire now.

Call of Doody

We feel like we're being somewhat derelict in our duty to report on the Schiff hearings, but to the best of our knowledge, the cartoon above sums things up pretty accurately.

The mainstream media keeps breathlessly announcing that one bombshell after another is dropping, any one of which could see Trump dragged screaming from the White House to a maximum security prison.

But when we consider the actual testimony, we're not hearing "bombshells" - we're hearing straining efforts to produce occasional plops and splashes...with exactly the accompanying scent you'd expect.

Apparently no one ever heard Trump say any of the things he's being accused of...but many people are still willing to go on record to say that they think Trump probably committed misdeeds, based on what these "witnesses" have heard from the media (which currently stands at 96% against Trump) rather than what they personally heard from the President's own lips.

The whole "impeachment hearing" process is a huge farce. And everyone knows how quickly farce can escalate into sharts.

Think we're overstating the scatological quality of these hearings? Then check out this actual video of Schiff's closing remarks from Thursday...

BONUS: BIDEN FAMILY VALUES

Like father, like scum.

With all of the arm-flapping, spin, and misdirection of the Schiff hearings, people haven't been paying enough attention to one of the case's central matters: determining just how much of a corrupt sleazebag Joe Biden's son Hunter really is.

Granted, we already knew that he'd been thrown out of the military for drug use. That he'd been in rehab multiple times. That he was siphoning off huge sums of money on various boards (including in Ukraine) to give people quid pro quo access to his father.

We even knew that Hunter Biden left his wife in order to start banging his dead brother's widow. But thanks to a recent DNA test, we now know that while Hunter was cheating on his wife, and enjoying some kind of necrophiliac incest with his sister-in-law, he was also shtupping a young woman in Arkansas who he knocked up, then lied about ever having had sex with her.

The legally-mandated DNA test came about because Biden had stopped making support payments to the mother and child, which is especially tacky considering the millions of dollars in graft money finding its way into his bank accounts.

Presumably, the mother and child will no longer have financial worries, even if Hunter won't cough up any dough. After all, now that his lineage has been proved, Joe Biden's new grandson can start sitting on the boards (using a booster seat) of some of the world's most corrupt companies.

BUT WAIT - THERE'S MORE!

Just Punchlines

At the 11th hour, the State of Texas informed us we didn't have to come in for jury duty after all. That being the case, we thought we should take a day off from rendering judgment about the idiots in the news.

Which is why you're getting...

See you in the comments section!

Trials and Tribulations

In all seriousness, today we'll find out if we're being called in for jury duty here in the great state of Texas, where we've Made Capital Punishment Great Again.

On two previous occasions, we've almost served. During questioning for the first, we were asked if we'd had any negative experiences with lawyers and, because we were under oath, we had to testify truthfully that we'd been lied to and screwed by pretty much every lawyer we'd ever met, with the exception of our maternal grandfather whose tombstone accurately describes him as the "Last Honest Lawyer." Oddly, we were dismissed.

The next time, we were actually seated in the jury box and ready to go...but the defendant took one look at the 12 good and true citizens waiting to pass judgment, perhaps noticing the tiny bit of anticipatory drool on our personal chin, and decided to cop a plea with no testimony.

Whether we make the final cut this time remains to be seen, but per the cartoon above, we really do wonder if lawyers should ask potential jurors whether they've been watching the Schiff hearings. Because if they have, they'll either have a complete misunderstanding of how justice is supposed to work, or they'll know exactly how justice is supposed to work but will have come to the conclusion that the system is too corrupt to actually function.

Still, we believe in the jury system and won't do anything to get out of doing our duty. Because first and foremost, this is a nation of rights...and if we weasel out of serving, we'll lose our precious right to bitch about the cesspool of modern Justice.

Paradoxxing

Unlike Schiff, we believe in presenting evidence to back up our accusations - so here's the article in which Schiff's loopy logic is neatly laid out. And that's really all we have to say about this fool's parade for now, which brings us to...

Lacking the will to fool with any other "news" stories today, we're just going to reel off some random thoughts and musings. Hey, that's why it's called "casual Friday!"

OK, BOOMER

Today was one of those days when we were reminded that we're growing older and are already way out of warranty. For starters, we had to go in for our regular hearing aid tune-up. This involved going to the service provider and handing our hearing aids to the pleasant young lady at the front desk, after which she told us to...uh...well, we don't know what she told us because we didn't have our freaking hearing aids in, but she was gesturing at a waiting room chair so we sat and listened to the shrieking tea kettle whistling of our tinnitus. Whee.

Perhaps 10 minutes later, the hearing aids were brought back, showroom fresh, minus all of the earwax that had accumulated inside (the wax, incidentally, will be donated to homeless bees). And soon we were on our way, once again making believe that we're not deaf as a post.

Upon returning home, we were greeted with the exciting news that our local pharmacy had finally received a supply of shingles vaccine - but only enough for 20 doddering oldsters, and it would go to whoever got there first.

So we flew out the door and had soon received the shingles shot ($160 and not covered by Medicare) and a "senior strength" flu shot with quadruple the irritants that everyone else gets. So now we can look forward to enjoying radiant good health as soon as BOTH our arms stop hurting like sumbitches.

TRUE TO FORMS

Last week we shared that the IRS was fining us $5000 because we submitted an information form (related to our personal retirement account) four months late. We appealed, and the IRS has been sending letters for over six months to say they haven't gotten to it yet. Hey, what are missed deadlines between friends, right?

The day after we posted the story on this page, we got yet another letter from them saying it would be another two months at the earliest before they could respond...but it was okay if we wanted to pay the fine now to decrease the rapidly accruing interest. Uh, no thanks.

WASH OUT

We also bitched about, er, shared an update on "Stilton's Palsy" last week. Readers had many helpful suggestions, including switching to a liquor brand which isn't purchased in barrels by people in the embalming industry. But another frequently mentioned tip was to try sleeping with a bar of soap at the end of the bed (technically a remedy for leg cramps, but what the heck). So we gave it a try and, astoundingly, it was no help at all.

Still, it pointed us in an exciting new direction, and we'll now be putting strange objects by our feet every night while looking for that elusive cure. Because, dammit, that's how science works.

Blush to Judgment (Weds Nov 13, 2019)

(Note: this post went "live" a bit early and says Tuesday, but it is the Wednesday post!)

Today sees the kickoff of the Adam Schiff Show, which we're deeply looking forward to not watching. Ever. For any reason.

Schiff is expected to open each installment with a comedic "parody" opening monologue, followed by telling the TV audience about the exciting roster of guests who will be grilled on the show, after which he'll mime a golf swing and signal the band to play jazzily into the first commercial break.

In this inquiry, which the press is happily and erroneously calling actual "impeachment hearings," all legal standards of what constitutes legitimate evidence have been thrown into a woodchipper, and neither President Trump nor the Republicans are allowed to offer any defense whatsoever. Apparently Mr. Schiff is using the legal playbook from the Salem witch trials, which is ironic considering that his googly eyes alone would have been enough for him to get torched back then ("He looked at my cows and they dried up, my crops withered and died, and my wife gave birth to a changeling with beady peepers!")

We're sure that the Adam Schiff Show will get plenty of press and news coverage, which will be handy for anyone who wants to hear more about it. Because we'll be damned if we're going to say any more about it unless we absolutely have to.

BONUS: SAN FRANSHITSCO

As another reminder of how screwed up liberals are, San Francisco has just elected a new district attorney whose pedigree and platform are flat out astounding.

Chesa Boudin (sadly not heir to a cajun sausage fortune) is the son of two members of the infamous Weather Underground domestic terror group. When Boudin was still only a toddler terrorist, his parents were packed off to prison for using bombs to murder policemen - which may well be the precipitating incident which made young Chesa dedicate his life to screwing up law enforcement.

Boudin was then raised in Chicago by the violently antisocial ringleaders of the Weather Underground - Bill Ayers and Bernardine Dohrn. For anyone who doesn't remember, it was in the living room of Bill Ayers that a young man with a dream (well, the dreams of his father and ghostwriter), Barack Obama, kicked off his ambitious and eventually successful attempt to screw up America and get policemen killed.

Fast forward to the present, and the festering stinkhole that is San Francisco, where candidate Chesa Boudin promised voters that if he was made District Attorney, he would make sure that no one was prosecuted for pooping or peeing on the sidewalks, that no one would be hassled for offering or soliciting sex, and that there would be no enforcement attempts to keep people from setting up tents or cardboard box hovels wherever they like. And the other candidates were so bad that this second generation terrorist/scatologist actually won on that platform.

He'll soon be starting his important job of law non-enforcement and hobbling the work of street cops, but we'd first like to ask him about an apparent inconsistency in his plans. He's making sure that San Francisco's sidewalks will be contaminated with even more pee and poop...but also encouraging the homeless to sleep on those sidewalks. If Donald Trump is responsible for the comfort and hygiene of illegal immigrants at the border, shouldn't D.A. Boudin be encouraging people not to take huge steaming craps on the beds of the homeless?

Frankly, this D.A.'s agenda sounds D.O.A to us.

Veterans Day 2019

Today is Veterans Day - a day of tribute, contemplation, and gratitude for the service and sacrifice of those who have served our nation in uniform. 

It is our ongoing duty to protect the freedoms that these men and women have won for us at high personal cost. And our very great privilege to say "thank you for your service."

Heard Mentality

If this is what passes for "news" these days - and it is - we have better things to do with our time than fretting about what "reporters" are hearing from their imaginary friends. Seriously, the news gathering process now reminds us of a clueless Frankenstein's monster trying to pluck music notes out of the air before going on a mindless rampage.

Not that we'd recommend torches and pitchforks as a remedy. Although it's said to be a good idea by unnamed sources speaking on behalf of an anonymous insider.

JUST A LITTLE FILLING...

Considering the fact that nothing in the news actually looks like "news," we're at something of an impasse when it comes to padding today's post to a reasonable length. To that end, here are random bits of flotsam related to what's going on around stately Jarlsberg Manor.

• MUNCHIES - While preparing our home for a social soiree, we discovered some odd "rippling" of the paint on one section of a wall. Giving it a gentle poke, our finger more or less disappeared out of view. Uh-oh. Yes, it was an active termite infestation (we personally saw the little bastards) which necessitated injecting powerful, Earth-destroying toxins around the entire periphery of our home. Which, at $1200, would be really painful if it weren't for the facts that A) Greta Thunberg would hate our use of toxins and B) based on their behavior, we're pretty sure the termites were socialists.

• FUNGUS AMONG US - A couple of weeks ago, a faint scent of mildew wafted through the bathroom closest to the editorial offices of Stilton's Place. Our strategy of "hoping it will just go away" fared no better than our identical hope for Barack Obama's administration, and following the same pattern the stench soon grew to unacceptable levels. Acrid fumes of mold burned our throat, and we couldn't find any signs of mold or moisture leaks - though it seemed likely that the problem was inside a wall which contains plumbing pipes.

Unable to track the problem further, we hired a plumber who had a specialized tool which allows one to actually look inside walls. That tool, it turns out, is a saw.

Four "windows" were cut into the wall, and moisture was discovered on some of the pipes - but there was no smoking gun discovered. So now we have mold smell (which we're allergic to), holes in the walls, and a renewed dedication to "hoping it will just go away."

• US TREACHERY DEPARTMENT - Many months ago, we reported to you that we'd accidentally failed to file a financial statement with the IRS on time, and so had sent it in four months late along with a letter of apology. The form, a 5500-EZ (ha!), simply states how much money is in your personal self-employed retirement account. This is an information form only - no taxes had been missed and no payments were due. Essentially, we were just sending beans to keep the beancounters from getting bored.

To thank us for our honesty, the IRS sent back a letter saying that we were being fined $5000 for a late filing. There is an appeal process, which we unsurprisingly jumped on. But here's the punchline: after nearly 6 months, we just got a letter from the IRS saying "Sorry, we're really, really busy so we haven't been able to get back to you in a timely way. Just keep waiting, and we'll add the accruing interest to your fine."  Bottom line: we're being fined $5000 for being four months late, but the IRS is much later than that...and suffers no consequences. And this is why we drink.

• STILTON'S PALSY - You may recall our mentioning that we'd developed a mild case of demonic possession which caused us to wake up each night kicking, flailing, and occasionally punching ourself in the face with a hostile and uncontrollable ninja fist. We showed video footage to a neurologist who helpfully observed that it looked like "violent seizures." We did not, however, have the sound turned up on the video because we'd added the song "Shakin' All Over" from The Who's "Live at Leeds" album. Because that's how we roll.

Fast forward to today and, after having the condition for roughly a year without any successful medical diagnosis, we're claiming naming privileges: the condition is now "Stilton's Palsy."

It's gotten significantly better over time. We're not performing Broadway musicals every night, but still have a lot of weird, lower-grade shakes, head bops, and twirling limbs (all completely painless, though annoying as all get out). Also, the condition now manifests itself during daylight hours in periods of high stress, much to the delight of anyone in our immediate proximity. Happily, the condition is apparently harmless and, two weeks from now, may get us out of jury duty if we make the judge nervous.

Putting the Cartel Before the Hearse

WE remember, you insufferable lying assholes.

By now you've heard the story of the Mormon family who had three women and six children massacred by drug cartel members while traveling through Mexico to attend a wedding. The story is heartbreaking...and a legitimate source for righteous anger.

To that end, President Trump has made the offer to Mexico to basically go to war with the cartels, using American troops to wipe this scourge from the Earth. Which is a very refreshing change from the way Barack Obama dealt with the problem by sending automatic weapons to the cartels.

We discussed this a lot at Hope n' Change way back in 2011, but will serve up a refresher for those who have forgotten details...or never heard them.

"Fast and Furious" was a program administered by the ATF under attorney general Eric Holder's direction and almost surely Barack Obama's endorsement. The program helped smuggle more than 1700 weapons to Mexican criminals and drug cartels just "to see where they'd surface."

Theoretically, this would provide valuable information which would allow the ATF to shut down the gunrunners. But unsurprisingly, "theory" went out the window, the program flew out of control, and the AK-47s and armor-piercing shells were used to murder dozens (if not hundreds) of people including a U.S. Border Patrol agent and a Customs Enforcement agent.

Speculation, which we personally find entirely believable, is that the primary purpose of the program wasn't really to track gang members at all, but rather for the Obama administration to pretend to be shocked that guns sold in America had been used to slaughter people in Mexico - which would have given Obama and Holder an excuse to attack the second amendment rights of Americans. And had "Fast and Furious" not been exposed, their bloodsoaked plan might actually have worked.

The contrast between the administrations of Trump and Obama could not be more marked. Trump wants to kill the bad guys who kill Americans...Obama wanted the bad guys to kill others, and equipped them to do so, in order to make his own covert attack on Americans.

And this is why, despite his many rough spots, we strongly support Donald Trump. And why we're still sickened by the memory of Barack Obama and everyone who surrounded him.

Funny Business

In these stressful political times, it's important to remember to laugh from time to time - especially about topics which are knee-slappingly funny like murder, pederasty, and sex trafficking.

At least, that's what Progressives find hilarious based on an interview in which The Daily Show host, Trevor Noah, asked Hillary Clinton how she killed Jeffrey Epstein - and was greeted with shrill, psychotic, Joker-style laughter by the First Lady of Arkancide. As opposed to, oh, a denial.

Alleged non-candidate Hillary was appearing on the show along with international diarrhea expert Chelsea "Daddy says it's not incest if I'm Webb Hubbell's" Clinton to promote their inspirational new children's book, "Gusty Women."

No, wait - the book is called "Gutsy Women" and it's filled with examples of women who, like Hillary, were strong and unapologetic historical trailblazers. Little girls (including, of course, those with a penis) can thrill to the colorful exploits of Lucretia Borgia, Lizzie Borden, Ma Barker, Aileen Wournos, Bonnie Parker, and Typhoid Mary - all of whom were gutsy enough to kill scores of people while laughing like hyenas.

And all of whom knew that Jeffrey Epstein did not kill himself.

FROM THE VAULT: THE SANDERS OF TIME

We'll skip our usual lengthy diatribe about Daylight Saving Time other than to say that we hate this temporal torture with every fiber of our jet-lagged being and don't appreciate, when 6 o'clock rolls around, being as in the dark as an MSNBC viewer.

The Schiff Hits the Fan

On Thursday, the House of Representatives held a big vote to agree upon the rules for proceeding with an impeachment "inquiry" which isn't an actual impeachment and, from the sound of things, won't be much of an inquiry either.

According to the measure, which passed with near universal support from Democrats and universal opposition by Republicans, televised testimony will take place with Democrats asking questions of Democrat-selected (and coached) "witnesses." In the interest of fairness, Republicans can also subpoena witnesses unless the Democrats don't like them or don't want the American people to hear from them.

All in all it's a fake process designed to look like impeachment proceedings, in which President Trump will be not really impeached for committing high crimes of phone etiquette, the charges about which are also phony.

We would call this a kangaroo court, only kangaroos can beat the living stew out of anyone who honks them off, so we won't insult them by comparing them to this mendacious collection of anti-American shitweasels.

We might alternately call this Kabuki theater, only when you insult those guys they sneak up on you quietly (despite their traditional wooden clogs) and then split you down the middle with a samurai sword.

So we'll just call this what it is: a travesty, an attempted coup, and a blatant act of treason committed by an entire political party.

Albeit not one without a sense of humor...

Too soon? We couldn't care less.

HALLOWEEN UPDATE

Stately Jarlsberg Mansion

Despite our worries, the weather for Halloween night was crisp and dry - perfect, really (although it got cold). So we were able to set up our full complement of inflatables (that purple blob is actually a giant spider eating a life-sized skeleton), psychedelic lights, and music/sound effects.

Fewer kids that previous years, but the ones who showed up were appreciative. Got a few teens without costumes, too - but they were pleasant enough and said "thank you," so good for them. All in all, it was a lovely evening!