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Congratulations to our British Cousins

And for our French cousins, cough cough

Today’s Earworm

If I cannot bring you comfort,

Then, at least, I bring you hope

Today’s Earworm

It’s a day late for the feast of Saint Stephen, but this hit my brain for some reason.

Thought for the Day

16For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. 17For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved. — The Gospel of Saint John, Chapter 3, Verses 16 and 17

Merry Christmas

From all of us, Merry Christmas. It’s been quite a year, but tonight, I hope that everything is right with your world.

Today’s Earworm

Fine. ‘Tis the season and all that


  • If you answer “I’m free most nights and weekends” when I ask when you can meet with a vendor, please don’t be surprised when I schedule a meeting with the vendor for 7 PM on Tuesday.
  • Note to Self – If we want to survive until the end of this year, the words “Brown lumps in gray sauce or gray lumps in brown sauce?” should not go through our lips when entering the kitchen and smelling dinner.
  • I took my semi-annual look at my retirement account, and if things keep going well for the stock market, adjusting for inflation, I should be able to retire sometime in my mid-80’s.
    • When I hit the milestones that allow me to retire from the current day job, I think I’m going to explore a new career as a reprobate.  That seems to pay well, at least for those reprobates with titles like ‘Senator’ and “Congressman’.
    • My 401K grew by about 25% this year due to the, IMHO, overheated stock market.  The feeling I have in my gut right now is the same as I have when I’m in the first car on the rollercoaster and we’re approaching the crest of the first big hill.
  • As the holidays approach at breakneck speed, we are all thinking of what to give our loved ones.  This year, be practical – give those you cherish ammunition, magazines, and booze.
    • I’m not saying things look bad when I look into my magic 8 ball, but I’m considering cutting a piece off of an old flag and putting it into my wallet, just in case.
  • Irish Woman and I had our annual “Please don’t buy me anything for Christmas”…. ‘discussion’ the other night.  I took a different tack this year by listing all of the things she and the kids have bought me for Christmas over the decades that met their fates at Goodwill or the bottom of a dumpster when we moved this year.  I’m hoping that this message convinced her that there is absolutely nothing I need nor want and that a good breakfast and some quiet music is all I ask for on Christmas morning.
    • It’s a forlorn hope, I know, but maybe one year I’ll wake up to a hug, a hot cup of coffee, and nothing more waiting for me.
  • Irish Woman tried to convince me to just buy her a bottle of the shampoo she loved back in the 80’s for Christmas, and I laughed in her face.  I don’t have much to live for, but I’m not going down like that.
    • Might as well watch her unwrap a set of steak knives and then go take a nap.

MacBiden IV


Wherefore was that cry?


The republic, my lord, is dead.


She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and… something,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to… you know, the thing
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And Cornpop shows all his homies
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a dog faced pony solder, a poor player
That drools and stumbles his way through a speech
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, kept in his basement,
Accomplishing nothing.

MacBiden III

A dark-Web Cave. In the middle, a Caldron boiling. Thunder.

Enter the three Witches.


Thrice the journo rat hath chewed.


Thrice and once, the pollster whin’d.


Karen cries:—’tis time! ’tis time!      


Round about the cheating go;
In the poison’d data throw.—
RINO, that on Congress’ throne,
Years and years has thirty-one;
Sputter’d venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i’ the biased pot!


Double, double to Trump give trouble;
Cities burn and turn to rubble.


Fillet of a swampy snake,
In the caldron boil and bake;
CIA, and FBI,
Shred your honor, to FISA fly,
White House mole, and unfair judge,
Flay the nation, hold a grudge,   
Four long years of powerful trouble,   
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.


Double, double to Trump give trouble;
Cities burn and turn to rubble.


Tax returns, Russian ho’s
Nancy prattles; on and on she goes
From the Twitter mob, hate and snark;
Plots with Facebook made i’ the dark;
Rivers of libelous content, too;
Loads of dung, flung at you,
Shaped by the talking heads’ lips;
Border walls, and YouTube clips;
Interview with an old porn star,
Film of riots from afar,—
Make the gruel thick like tar:
Rake the muck with high dudgeon,
For the ingrediants of our caldron.


Double, double to Trump give trouble;
Cities burn and turn to rubble.


Cool it with a buffoon’s blood,
Someone at FOX will make it good.

Enter HILLARY to the other three Witches


O well done! I commend your pains;
And every one shall share i’ the gains;
And now about the cauldron sing,
Live SJW’s in a ring,
Enchanting all that you put in.

HILLARY retires


By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something vapid this way comes.
Open, locks,
Whoever knocks!


Attention to Orders

Seaman First Class James R. Ward, for his conduct during the attack on Pearl Harbor, was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor

For conspicuous devotion to duty, extraordinary courage, and complete disregard of his life, above and beyond the call of duty, during the attack on the Fleet in Pearl Harbor by Japanese forces on 7 December 1941. When it was seen that the U.S.S. Oklahoma was going to capsize and the order was given to abandon ship, Ward remained in a turret holding a flashlight so the remainder of the turret crew could see to escape, thereby sacrificing his own life.

20 years old, barely more than a year after enlisting, and he willingly gave his life to give his shipmates a chance to live.

Where do we find such men?

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