On Bad Air & Neglect

 

We're under an Air Quality Advisory in Michigan again, with levels in the orange and red zones.  This is the second time this year smoke from the Canadian Fires has descended to visibly surround us in unhealthy haze.  While I can recall a similar situation happening for a few days two or three years ago, I have no recollection of this much smoke in the air prior to that time.  Which makes me wonder how this recently became such a wide-spread problem and what might have changed with regard to Canadian Forest and Fire Management to bring this about?  While the convenient answer is "climate change" , I'm more inclined to believe this has more to do with a decline in money and effort spent on forestry management. 

Something’s going on here…

  

Joseph Force Crater^[1] (January 5, 1889 – disappeared August 6, 1930; declared legally dead June 6, 1939) was an American lawyer who served as a New York State Supreme Court Justice and mysteriously vanished shortly after the state began an investigation into corruption in New York City. Despite massive publicity, the missing personscase was never solved and was officially closed forty years after Crater was declared dead.

Hipster Holocaust Chapter Thirty Eight

 

O’Malley and Johnson walked into the interrogation room and sat across from Fat Louie DeMaio. Fat Louie sat all calm and collected like a guinea Buddha. He didn’t look calm at first glance because he was sweating like a pig. But that was because of his thermostat, not his energy. He was stoic, almost meditative as he waited. Louie was cuffed to the table and had to lean slightly forward because he was too fat to sit back as his stomach kept him away from the edge of the table.

O’Malley gestured to Johnson. “Why don’t you unhook this fine gentleman, Detective Johnson, so we can have a little chat?” Johnson grimaced but went across the table and unlocked the cuffs. Fat Louie sat back and rubbed his wrist that had been severely chaffed by the cuffs, as usual were too small for his meaty wrist. He looked at O’Malley expectantly as if he had to answer as to why he was sitting there in a too-small chair in a too-small room.

“Well, boyo, it looks like we need some answers from you. Detective Johnson has some questions, and it would behoove you to answer.” Fat Louie smiled and said, “I would be happy to help if I can, Detective. Who are you, by the way? I didn’t catch the name.” O’Malley smiled. This one was sharp. “Detective Sergeant O’Malley, to be sure, Mr. DeMaio. I am in charge of this little merry band, and I would appreciate it if you would answer us truthfully and clearly so we can get you out of here as expeditiously as possible.” “Fair enough, Sergeant, but I don’t see how I can help youse. I told Detective Johnson that I only knew the girl in passing as someone to buy flowers from and no more. We met maybe three times in all. You know who I am, I guess?” “I am aware,” O’Malley said. “None of the boys knew anything more. Certainly, Mr. Aiello didn’t. How can I help?” O’Malley turned to Johnson, “Yes, how can he help Detective?” Johnson silently fumed as he regretted bringing this fat fuck into the station. His temper was going to get him in deep shit someday. “I think you know something more than you are telling us. Is there any word on the street about these killings? The girl worked a block away from you. Didn’t any of your mooks hit on her and try to get over? I know how you guinea bastards operate. This is bullshit man because you have your ear to the street and you have to know something. Give me something, and you can walk out of here.” Fat Louie just gave him the dead eye. “I don’t have any idea what you are talking about. Nobody has been talking about these murders except as it being a shame. It has nothing to do with us. You know that is not what we do. The only other thing I can tell you is that she worked at the Ace Hardware on Court Street. Maybe she got in a beef there or something. The guys there were more likely to hit on her and try to get over. She wasn’t the type of girl my guys go for. They don’t stick it in hipsters. It’s beneath them. So, you see, I don’t know anything.”

On Fetes of Shooting & Spyglass Activities

 

On Attack Knives & Crossed Arrows

 

The knife attack took place at a Wally north of us in Traverse City, where Pete and Chasten now live.  According to the sheriff, it was "bystanders, including a man armed with a pistol, who helped to subdue the attacker until authorities arrived".  “It’s not very often that we have citizens that are willing to step up and take action,” he said.  It was four men, one with a gun and another a retired Marine veteran, who made a difference by getting him out the door and on the ground until the police arrived.  

Well, this should ruin somebody's day

If you've been paying attention, you know JillyMax (it's shorter than the full name) has been talking to the Feds. What she said is under wraps, but it's reported she answered every question.

It's also reported she's been granted limited immunity, whatever that might be; possibly no further prosecution on anything new that she reveals. Her lawyers are talking pardon, but, as she's 4 years in on a 20 year stretch, I don't doubt any kind of commutation is looking good. What might be a suitable deal is an interesting little intellectual toy.

Since we know the flight logs (which, like a client list, really don't prove wrongdoing), anything to which she could attest or provide documentary evidence would put a lot of Democrats (and probably more than a few INOs) in a Federal prison for pretty much life.

All those little ward heelers who a week ago cursed their luck that they never made it out of NM, NV, CO, or LA to the big time in DC must be on their knees thanking God (or Father Karl) that they're so obscure

On Burying With Evidence & Fingerprints

 

Talk about ducking a bullet

FWIW Poot also knew the Beast had serious mental problems. Sounds like she was manic depressive. And we all think we lucked out last year.

Trump Speed Dating

The Great Shane Gilles.

The best comic around today.

A Real American

That's for sure. 

He did a lot of drugs. Had a lot of sex. Partied hard but achieved great things.

And he moved to Florida.

A Real American.

Rest in Peace Hulkster

We were young once.

It seems so long ago.

A little reality to go with your hysteria

And people say there's no God

This little item is too cool to pass up. Apparently, the Russkies knew exactly what was wrong with the Hildabeast.

And now we know. Sounds like both the Ozarks stay home and make sure each takes their Brilinta.

RTWT

 Just a reminder, the pedos who run our government still run free, victimizing children.