Bad Bad Juju: January 2007 Archives

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January 28, 2007

Dirtbags

Thank you Jimbo

Al Whore would've been in the picture, but he was playing "screw your buddy" with Hanoi Jane.

Posted by Yabu at 06:10 PM | The Past | Comments (4) | TrackBack

Truth Be Known...

Bwahahahahahahah!!!!!

Posted by Yabu at 02:10 PM | General | Comments (3) | TrackBack

We're Way Past Sanctions...

...negotiations, the United Nations, and the Left.

"If you will not fight for the right when you can easily win without bloodshed; if you will not fight when your victory will be sure and not too costly; you may come to the moment when you will have to fight with all the odds against you and only a small chance of survival. There may even be a worse case; you may have to fight when there is no hope of victory, because it is better to perish than to live as slaves."

--Winston Churchill

If the Democrats win the election, they will surrender. No doubt about it. We must play by, and adapt to, our enemy’s rules, and if that means crossing borders to do it, so be it. Radical Islam knows no borders. If that means killing everyone, including women and children, amongst whom the IslamoFascist terrorist pigs hide to shield their coward-ass hooded faces, so be it.

It is not the Republicans against the Democrats; it’s freedom and our way of life that’s at stake here. Think about the children, their future.

To all you liberal pussies, remember this…Islam will not allow you to smoke dope or stick flowers down the barrels of their guns, but they will allow you to grow poppies. Make some cash for the cause…the better to kill you with.

Hijacked or not, the followers of Islam started it…with the help of Jimmy Carter.

One more thing: The MSM seems to be more concerned about the goings on of American celebrities, etc., than the future of America. WTF is going on with that?

What is this world coming to?

There is no solution to this mess without shedding some blood. If you don’t understand this most basic fact, you need to get your ass outta my country…cause these pigs aren’t gonna stop until you're dead.

If you want to cut and run…please do…and I hope you’re on the receiving end of some Bad Bad Juju.

Posted by Yabu at 12:16 PM | The Present | Comments (5) | TrackBack

January 26, 2007

Cold...Fucking Cold.

It’s all about the latitude.

I have no problem with cold weather. I enjoy it to an extent, but fucking 8 degrees with minus 10+ degrees wind-chill is, well, just plain bone chilling. I have the appropriate clothing, layers and silk, and you still can’t escape it. It is double fucking cold. You need to cover all exposed flesh…look like you’re robbing a bank.

I’m on the shore of a Great Lake…the wind is blowing like all get-out; all but the main roads are like a hockey rink, and even the locals are bitchin’.

I’m outta here in the early morning…maybe. Thanks are to the Maker.

The wind makes all the difference in the world. It will cut you in half.

Posted by Yabu at 08:42 PM | The Present | Comments (5) | TrackBack

I Could Not Say It Better

I would vote for a crack smoking female chimp before I'd vote for Hilary Clinton.

She gets an extra bowl of ice cream...

Posted by Yabu at 08:32 PM | The Future | Comments (3) | TrackBack

January 20, 2007

The Beast

"I'm in, and I'm in to win." As a senator, I will spend two years doing everything in my power to limit the damage George W. Bush can do," Clinton's statement added. "But only a new president will be able to undo Bush's mistakes and restore our hope and optimism."

And Osama Obama is a closet Muslim, maybe, dug in like a mole during the Cold War. He is done, which is a good thing.

The Hildebeast is all about Schadenfreude, and it will be the misfortune of Americans if she is elected.

November 4, 2008 will be here before you know it. The next 655 days will be interesting. Bitch, and bitch often.

God help us all.

Posted by Yabu at 03:18 PM | The Future | Comments (12) | TrackBack

What Goes Around Comes Around

I posted here about crossing the Rubicon. It appears the situation I found myself in has been resolved favorably. Sometimes these things take time.

I truly believe what goes around comes around.

Posted by Yabu at 11:06 AM | General | Comments (1) | TrackBack

January 19, 2007

Balls

Ripped this from Zie Bitch

Posted by Yabu at 11:30 AM | General | Comments (4) | TrackBack

January 18, 2007

Speed And Hugging And Stopping

Yabu needs one of these.

A high end Porsche is like driving a Slot Car. Downfuckingtown. I've done it.

It is really very simple:

You point, it goes...really really fast.

You hit the breaks, it stops...really really fast.

$135 grand, 200+ MPH

You've got to pay to play.

The Germans can build some shit.

I'm just sayin'

Posted by Yabu at 08:39 PM | General | Comments (1) | TrackBack

The Big Things

Velociman is downtown like he can only get. Nailed it as only he can.

Apocaloco

Posted by Yabu at 11:45 AM | The Future | TrackBack

January 17, 2007

While I'm Youtubeing...

...lets do a little Chuck Berry, Eric Clapton, Keith Richards & Johnnie Johnson

Mercy!!!

Can't forget the Duckwalk

Posted by Yabu at 11:13 PM | General | TrackBack

Evil Masquerading

Witnit has put up a 3-part BBC video (Undercover Mosque) that documents the ideology of bigotry and intolerance that is spreading in British Mosques.

I agree completely with him. Are there any moderate Muslims? If so, where are they? I guess if there are any, they’re content to continue to allow their religion to be hijacked by a mob of “jealous of the West pigs”. I say if this IslamoFascist scum wants to live in the 7th century; we should help ‘em out.

Like my good friend Denny said, “I would have no problem with nuking Mecca”, but I think Tehran should be first, preferably when Nancy Pelosi is over there on a peace / surrender mission.

The West is going to have to make a stand. We either fight ‘em over there, or we fight ‘em over here…but we’re going to have to fight. The choice is ours.

Posted by Yabu at 10:07 AM | The Present | Comments (6) | TrackBack

January 16, 2007

Three Steps Were Not Enough

I've been on the bus with these fuckers...swear to the Maker it was snowing. One of the wildest days of my life. I cannot, to this day, understand how they were able to take the stage and actually play music...but they did it...slayed the crowd as well...amazing.

Posted by Yabu at 05:30 PM | The Past | Comments (4) | TrackBack

A Message to Garcia

By Elbert Hubbard, 1899

I would consider what is behind Read More to be a Catdaddy essay. One of my favorites.

Just my opinion.

In all this Cuban business there is one man stands out on the horizon of my memory like Mars at perihelion. When war broke out between Spain & the United States, it was very necessary to communicate quickly with the leader of the Insurgents. Garcia was somewhere in the mountain vastness of Cuba- no one knew where. No mail nor telegraph message could reach him. The President must secure his cooperation, and quickly.

What to do!

Some one said to the President, "There’s a fellow by the name of Rowan will find Garcia for you, if anybody can."

Rowan was sent for and given a letter to be delivered to Garcia. How "the fellow by the name of Rowan" took the letter, sealed it up in an oil-skin pouch, strapped it over his heart, in four days landed by night off the coast of Cuba from an open boat, disappeared into the jungle, & in three weeks came out on the other side of the Island, having traversed a hostile country on foot, and delivered his letter to Garcia, are things I have no special desire now to tell in detail.

The point I wish to make is this: McKinley gave Rowan a letter to be delivered to Garcia; Rowan took the letter and did not ask, "Where is he at?" By the Eternal! there is a man whose form should be cast in deathless bronze and the statue placed in every college of the land. It is not book-learning young men need, nor instruction about this and that, but a stiffening of the vertebrae which will cause them to be loyal to a trust, to act promptly, concentrate their energies: do the thing- "Carry a message to Garcia!"

General Garcia is dead now, but there are other Garcias.

No man, who has endeavored to carry out an enterprise where many hands were needed, but has been well nigh appalled at times by the imbecility of the average man- the inability or unwillingness to concentrate on a thing and do it. Slip-shod assistance, foolish inattention, dowdy indifference, & half-hearted work seem the rule; and no man succeeds, unless by hook or crook, or threat, he forces or bribes other men to assist him; or mayhap, God in His goodness performs a miracle, & sends him an Angel of Light for an assistant. You, reader, put this matter to a test:
You are sitting now in your office- six clerks are within call.

Summon any one and make this request: "Please look in the encyclopedia and make a brief memorandum for me concerning the life of Correggio".

Will the clerk quietly say, "Yes, sir," and go do the task?

On your life, he will not. He will look at you out of a fishy eye and ask one or more of the following questions:
Who was he?

Which encyclopedia?

Where is the encyclopedia?

Was I hired for that?

Don’t you mean Bismarck?

What’s the matter with Charlie doing it?

Is he dead?

Is there any hurry?

Shan’t I bring you the book and let you look it up yourself?

What do you want to know for?

And I will lay you ten to one that after you have answered the questions, and explained how to find the information, and why you want it, the clerk will go off and get one of the other clerks to help him try to find Garcia- and then come back and tell you there is no such man. Of course I may lose my bet, but according to the Law of Average, I will not.

Now if you are wise you will not bother to explain to your "assistant" that Correggio is indexed under the C’s, not in the K’s, but you will smile sweetly and say, "Never mind," and go look it up yourself.

And this incapacity for independent action, this moral stupidity, this infirmity of the will, this unwillingness to cheerfully catch hold and lift, are the things that put pure Socialism so far into the future. If men will not act for themselves, what will they do when the benefit of their effort is for all? A first-mate with knotted club seems necessary; and the dread of getting "the bounce" Saturday night, holds many a worker to his place.

Advertise for a stenographer, and nine out of ten who apply, can neither spell nor punctuate- and do not think it necessary to.

Can such a one write a letter to Garcia?

"You see that bookkeeper," said the foreman to me in a large factory.

"Yes, what about him?"

"Well he’s a fine accountant, but if I’d send him up town on an errand, he might accomplish the errand all right, and on the other hand, might stop at four saloons on the way, and when he got to Main Street, would forget what he had been sent for."

Can such a man be entrusted to carry a message to Garcia?

We have recently been hearing much maudlin sympathy expressed for the "downtrodden denizen of the sweat-shop" and the "homeless wanderer searching for honest employment," & with it all often go many hard words for the men in power.

Nothing is said about the employer who grows old before his time in a vain attempt to get frowsy ne’er-do-wells to do intelligent work; and his long patient striving with "help" that does nothing but loaf when his back is turned. In every store and factory there is a constant weeding-out process going on. The employer is constantly sending away "help" that have shown their incapacity to further the interests of the business, and others are being taken on. No matter how good times are, this sorting continues, only if times are hard and work is scarce, the sorting is done finer- but out and forever out, the incompetent and unworthy go.

It is the survival of the fittest. Self-interest prompts every employer to keep the best- those who can carry a message to Garcia.

I know one man of really brilliant parts who has not the ability to manage a business of his own, and yet who is absolutely worthless to any one else, because he carries with him constantly the insane suspicion that his employer is oppressing, or intending to oppress him. He cannot give orders; and he will not receive them. Should a message be given him to take to Garcia, his answer would probably be, "Take it yourself."

Tonight this man walks the streets looking for work, the wind whistling through his threadbare coat. No one who knows him dare employ him, for he is a regular fire-brand of discontent. He is impervious to reason, and the only thing that can impress him is the toe of a thick-soled No. 9 boot.

Of course I know that one so morally deformed is no less to be pitied than a physical cripple; but in our pitying, let us drop a tear, too, for the men who are striving to carry on a great enterprise, whose working hours are not limited by the whistle, and whose hair is fast turning white through the struggle to hold in line dowdy indifference, slip-shod imbecility, and the heartless ingratitude, which, but for their enterprise, would be both hungry & homeless.

Have I put the matter too strongly? Possibly I have; but when all the world has gone a-slumming I wish to speak a word of sympathy for the man who succeeds- the man who, against great odds has directed the efforts of others, and having succeeded, finds there’s nothing in it: nothing but bare board and clothes.

I have carried a dinner pail & worked for day’s wages, and I have also been an employer of labor, and I know there is something to be said on both sides. There is no excellence, per se, in poverty; rags are no recommendation; & all employers are not rapacious and high-handed, any more than all poor men are virtuous.

My heart goes out to the man who does his work when the "boss" is away, as well as when he is at home. And the man who, when given a letter for Garcia, quietly take the missive, without asking any idiotic questions, and with no lurking intention of chucking it into the nearest sewer, or of doing aught else but deliver it, never gets "laid off," nor has to go on a strike for higher wages. Civilization is one long anxious search for just such individuals. Anything such a man asks shall be granted; his kind is so rare that no employer can afford to let him go. He is wanted in every city, town and village- in every office, shop, store and factory. The world cries out for such: he is needed, & needed badly- the man who can carry a message to Garcia.

THE END

« Close It

Posted by Yabu at 04:13 PM | General | Comments (4) | TrackBack

OUR RUSSIAN FRIENDS...

...are a bunch of whores. As I've said before here and here, and many other places.

"Late last year Russia reluctantly joined U.N. sanctions against Iran, which introduced restrictions on Iran's trade in sensitive nuclear materials and technology, aimed at curbing Tehran's nuclear ambitions."

But "Moscow says the sanctions do not apply to the missiles."

I will argue that a state of the art fucking missile defense system is, in fact, sensitive technology.

And we let them get away with it. We are fucking crazy.

Sanctions DO NOT work, period.

Posted by Yabu at 12:44 PM | The Present | TrackBack

January 15, 2007

Foredeck Monkey

When I first started racing sailboats, I was assigned to the Sewer. The sewer was mine. All I did was clean up the Italian Feast of Sheets, and pack and repack sails…and get people shit. I was the Boy. I finally determined it was more efficient to launch, and takedown, the Spinnaker out of a huge laundry basket from abeam. It took me awhile to prove my point, but in the end, my method was adapted. I learned all about knots. Ask my Bitch. I also learned that the chute is usually launched from the bow for a reason. Bloopers, as well. They met me halfway.

Anyway, we’re in the middle of a leg, and there wasn’t much going on for me, so I popped myself a cold beverage. Bad move. My good friend, who also happened to be number one, said, “drop that fucking beer, the B-B-Q ain’t started yet…we’ve got boats to pass. Jump the fuck back Jack. Damn! I did as I was ~~asked~~ told, but I threw it at him instead of dropping it. I was lucky; he was too busy to beat my ass.

We passed ‘em all, and won that race.

My smart-ass attitude got me promoted. I was now called to foredeck monkey duty. Physically, I’m the right size (float like a butterfly, sting like a bee...is an understatement), so what could I say. I was ready. Maybe?

Now, let me say before I go any further, know this. These people, my friends, are fucking crazy ass balls to the wall, took this shit seriously. Very seriously. There were groupies waiting for us 'em, back on shore. They wanted to ~~come in first~~ win, if you know what I mean.

Working the foredeck, in a blow, is dangerous business. If you’re doing an “end-over-to-end” jibe of the spinnaker pole, and number one doesn’t turn the boat to coincide with the swap, you have a major problem. I’ve taken a spinnaker pole, powered by the force of nature, full force to the chest several times. I’m lucky I wasn’t killed. If it’d hit me in the head, I’d be dead.

I’ve never sailed without bleeding.

After a couple of years I moved to trimmer, and that was a lot of fun, but if you don’t have a capable foredeck man, you are screwed.

Racing a sailboat is all about teamwork.

I miss those days.

Bottom Line: I just plain like to go fast.

Posted by Yabu at 12:36 PM | The Past | Comments (1) | TrackBack

January 14, 2007

Collard Teepee

Posted by Yabu at 11:38 PM | General | Comments (4) | TrackBack

Russia Is Still Our Enemy

Russia was the full time enemy of the United States for the duration of the Cold War, then a supposed ally of the United States for about fifteen years. Now, they’ve resumed the role as an enemy of the United States. The Russians have chosen sides with radical Islam, and are supplying arms, technology and training to IslamoFascist terrorists.

I wonder why the Russians have chosen this path. Is it resentment over their collapse as a world power? Is it for economic reasons…do they need the cash? Is the old communist regime still embedded in Russian politics and secretly dreams of our destruction?

The fact is, Russia paved the way for terrorists to obtain nuclear materials through several avenues and methods. Basically, security at their nuclear facilities after they lost the Cold War was no better than guarding a five and dime. Plants were left unguarded and essentially unsecured which resulted in thefts of some bad bad juju by not only outsiders, but by the fucking Russians themselves. The Russian Mafia and most certainly military and intelligence personnel who wished to capitalize on their country’s economical and political demise had a field day. On the “black market,” a Russian in possession of a block of plutonium and a capable buyer could indeed become a wealthy man overnight.

It has long been established that suitcase style nuclear bombs, uranium and plutonium as well as missiles themselves have been stolen from Russian facilities and sold to the highest bidders worldwide through the black market. Some believe…terrorist regimes, rogue states and terrorists themselves acquired most of these items. Russian scientists have disappeared, not because they’re dead, but instead because they have sold their services, knowledge and technology to the highest bidders. These people are not limited to nuclear technology, but also include experts in biological and chemical weaponry as well. This type of corruption is not limited to Russia. Look at Pakistan. They have had their share of scientists and technicians sell out to terrorists and terrorist regimes worldwide. A follower of Islam will sell their daughter or sister if the price is right.

Russia has openly supported Iran in their pursuit of nuclear technology. They have provided technology for the construction of the nuclear facilities in Iran and they have provided the process technologies for enriching uranium and are currently training Iranians to make these facilities fully operational as soon as possible. Russia has sold the latest and greatest missile defense systems to Iran, and trained the technicians. The United States, and some others, has officially placed Iran on notice for their nuclear activities, yet Russia has completely disregarded the wishes of the U.S. and our allies and continues to supply and assist Tehran in their nuclear endeavors. These are not the actions of an ally or even a fair weather friend. Russia has chosen sides, and it is not the side of the United States.

This issue cannot be ignored much longer as it is only paving the way to disaster. There are many tensions in the region and Israel is the most likely target of Iran in the near future. Turkey is forming an alliance with Syria, who is already aligned with Iran, a significant perpetuator of all radical Islamic terrorist activities. When you throw the Russian whores and their attitude and still available nuclear capabilities into the mix, the potential outcome is deadly. This is an issue that will not stay on the back burner for very long, as it is already the foremost threat to the stability of that region. The problems and potential for irreversible deadly actions is immense and in my opinion, from a threat priority standpoint, far outweigh any immediate threat that North Korea poses to the U.S. Forget about North Korea for a while.

What is happening in Syria, Iran, Turkey and Russia is a much greater threat to the United States and the western world, than anything happening in North Korea or China. The Middle East (Islam) and the alliances forming within will be at the forefront of the next major world conflict.

The United States must stay in Iraq. Someday, everyone will understand why it was critical to have a US presence directly adjacent to this nightmare.

This is some Bad Bad Juju.

Posted by Yabu at 06:18 PM | The Future | Comments (9) | TrackBack

January 09, 2007

Ice Flying

Just in case you've ever wondered:

The de-icing fluid used on aircraft is pink.

The anti-icing fluid used is lime green.

First, you de-ice, then you anti-ice, and then you're late.

I guess it's better to be late than dead.

Posted by Yabu at 11:21 PM | General | Comments (1) | TrackBack

Big Ass Pig

My God Daughter (she’s twenty eight) and me were taking a stroll. Before we left, her Mom handed me a shotgun…just in case. It was one of those that has a really short barrel and holds a bunch of shells. It was loaded to the max. A pumper, if you know what I mean. OO Buck, I think. After the fact, I knew…it was.

Anyway, we were deep into the woods when we heard some snorting, rustling and shit, from the left…and all of a sudden this big ass hog came out of the bush. He is no more.

Scared the shit out of me though.

I popped that fucker point blank...three times.. She is fine, I am fine, but that fucking pig is a dead motherfucker.

Did we eat it? No...we let the bastard rot.

It should be against the law NOT to own a shotgun.

I’m just sayin’

Posted by Yabu at 10:49 PM | The Past | Comments (7) | TrackBack

January 08, 2007

Red Beans And Rice

Posted by Yabu at 09:11 PM | The Past | Comments (9) | TrackBack

January 07, 2007

A View from The Right

Since it was 70 degrees yesterday...I had to remind myself...and Stretch...

...what it was like the same time last year.

WTF is going on with the weather?

Posted by Yabu at 10:04 PM | Images | Comments (4) | TrackBack

January 06, 2007

Palindrome

I've always found shit like this interesting.

A Palindrome is a word, phrase, number or other sequence of units that has the property of reading the same in either direction (the adjustment of punctuation and spaces between words is generally permitted).

"A man, a plan, a canal, Panama!" reads the same in either direction.

Just thought you needed to know that.

Posted by Yabu at 11:46 AM | General | Comments (2) | TrackBack

Death by Catapult

For the benefit of the rest of the world, in 1986 the UK saw its most violent storm for over 350 years. Wind speeds in some parts exceeded 90 mph and incredible amounts of damage were done to property and people up and down the UK.

This story made several of the Kent newspapers at the time and - like most sane, rational beings I too found it difficult to believe - but it is absolutely true.

In Margate in the county of Kent, there are many tall Poplar trees and it's not uncommon for residents in the more rural areas to be surrounded by woods and spinnys. During the 1986 storm, an estimated 1 billion trees were lost - uprooted - by the gales. One hapless resident of Margate owned a house that bordered a small wood on the edge of which was 3 massive Poplars. The wind had felled 1 - which had come to rest across his back garden - while the other 2 had managed to resist the winds but had bent over just far enough to lodge their tops under the soffat of this guy's roof.

The foliage of the bent trees was obscuring almost 100% of the light, which would have entered his upstairs bedroom windows. Now, this chap did not own a chainsaw nor could he reach the trunks of the trees, which were several yards beyond his reach - even when leaning out of the window.

Undeterred by these frustrations and apparently unfettered by common-sense, he decided to find the base of the first tree, shin up the trunk from its location on the edge of the wood and (you can see it coming can't you?!!!) saw the top off while sitting astride the trunk with his feet wedged against his roof gutter.

After almost 20 minutes of sawing, the tree - which experts estimate held the energy equivalent to small field gun - broke away from the part he was sawing off and sprang back upright.

His body was found in a neighbor’s garden over 1 mile away and had suffered massive trauma. The police surgeon stated that his neck probably broke during the whiplash and he would therefore have known nothing of the impact with the ground.

Via: The Darwin Awards

Bwahahahahahahah!!!

...'held the energy equivalent to small field gun'...

What a dumbass.

Posted by Yabu at 11:26 AM | Humor | Comments (2) | TrackBack

January 02, 2007

True Or Not True?

Posted by Yabu at 09:27 PM | The Future | Comments (4) | TrackBack

January 01, 2007

I'm Just Sayin'

Do not fuck with man on horse (Kiyohara Takenori) with razor sharp sword.

Posted by Yabu at 08:13 PM | Images | Comments (3) | TrackBack

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