Monthly Archives: July 2025

Deadlines and Diaper Donnie is Upset


Today is July 31st. On August 1st if Canada doesn’t do a deal with Diaper Donnie, he’ll put some horrible tariffs in place against Canadian goods being imported by Americans into America.

Ooooh, we’re shaking in our boots up here. This is somewhere around the fifth deadline this year from The American Pedo-In-Chief, all of which suddenly get extended, or don’t exist anymore. Last night The Grifter, Serial Bankrupt and Pussy Grabber was annoyed that Canada was willing to recognize Palestine as a state at the UN. So he said there wouldn’t be a deal and has also said that Canada is ‘nasty’ to deal with.

Canadians have heard all this crap before and we don’t take kindly to it. Canadians have retaliated with Elbows Up. Canada to US tourism has dropped by 40%, representing an estimated $12 Billion in lost revenue to the US. Grocery products in Canadian stores have slipped by one estimate, 18% of sales. Consumers actively go out of their way to, often, turning US products upside down on the shelves, or going outside to farm gate markets to buy local, Canadian products, or at least not American products, shopping other countries, like Mexico, Brazil, Costa Rica and so on.

Then there is the problems US producers are having: Tariffs imposed by Washington have caused Wal-Mart to raise prices on several hundred products that either are imported, or use imported materials in their manufacture. Ford and General Motors have both said their prices are going up anywhere from $2,000 to $6,000 per unit because parts that make up a vehicle cross borders all the time and the tariffs get applied all over the place.

A good example of Shit-For-Brains not knowing which hole to put it in, is Aluminum. The entire United States of America produces about 600,000 tons of aluminum every year. Cans, cars and aircraft, aside from foil for QAnon Tin Hats are all made with aluminum. Quebec by itself, produces 4,000,000 million tons a year and a lot of it is super-high purity aerospace grade aluminum. Go ask Lockheed where they get the metal for the F-35: It ain’t re-melted Pabst Blue Ribbon Cans.

Electricity is another irritant for The Beauty Pageant Inspector: Most of New York State, Ohio, Michigan and Illinois get their electricity from Quebec and Ontario. Oil? Canada exports about 4 Million Barrels a day to the US. The US can’t even refine their own “drill baby drill’ oil because it is high-sulfur fracking crude that the US doesn’t have refineries able to refine.

Which is why the media coverage of the mythical deadline of tomorrow for a ‘deal’ is a yawn up here. The EU cut a deal last week, which says nothing, is not binding, has no legal status and costs the EU nothing. The Japanese Trade Deal with Mushroom Dick is not even an Memorandum of Understanding, has no enforcement mechanism and does not send a half-billion dollars to the US, despite what he says. The same is true with the groundbreaking deals with Myanmar, Cote d’Ivorie, Ghana and Peru. In fact Ghana a fair-sized chocolate producer is raising their prices significantly for the product, so Hershey’s can go suck it and raise their prices.

It is all smoke and mirrors as the Orange Taint-Stain tries to distract from Epstein and from his failures on the home front. Like rebuilding with FEMA after floods and hurricanes have decimated the US housing construction industry. Masked men in ICE vests kidnapping citizens off the streets. Calling opponents scum (Gavin NewScum) or having his surrogates tell everyone that there is so much prosperity that they can’t even handle it, as well as the six wars that Bone Spurs has personally stopped. Except Ukraine, let’s not talk about that.

Really, it’s Thursday Afternoon. Canada does not care. Same Shit, Different Day and TACO Don won’t do jack. And if he does, well, #FAFO, which is Fuck Around and Find Out.

Catching Up, bits and pieces


It wound up being a few weeks between posts for some understandable reasons. Canada Day I was dropped by a hard, nasty cold. Doctor visits, meds, etc. Felt like a complete bag of shiite for two weeks and even then another week to recover enough to go back to work. No excuses, just illness, but I’m fine and back on the horse.

It’s too easy to finish up a week, park your ass on the sofa and become a farting lump of humanity that only moves to eat, excrete or struggle to find the remote. Then come Sunday around 4 pm, recognize that you’ve blown a whole weekend doing nothing, contributing nothing and accomplishing nothing. We’re making an effort to do ‘something’ every week, so we’ll catch you up with some short snappers.

Wes’ Chips. If you only know french fries from Mickey or the King, we mourn for you and your poor palate. Chip Wagons are indispensable, as they provide a very high quality product. Wes’ Chips in

Arnprior Ontario has been around since the dawn of time. Big bags of potatoes go in the back, perfect french fries come out the front. You can tell it’s the real deal if they ask you “Halfway?” even if it is a size small. “Halfway” to translate from chip truck slang, means, we’ll fill it halfway, hand it to you to add your toppings (salt and malt vinegar please) then you pass it back to the counter person who fills it the rest of the way up. Then you dose the rest of it. It’s not me saying it, it’s a God thing: In Fallopians 3:17, to quote: “The halfway is the way of the Lord and merchant who does not, shall be cast unto the fire” I don’t make the rules…

Countryside. With all the technology grabbing at our eyes, algorithms designed to frustrate, reward then frustrate again, we forget to do the basics. Basic #1 is this: Look out the effing window!

We live in Ontario, which is stunningly beautiful if you look out the window. Drive somewhere, eyes up out the windshield. See the hills, trees, houses, farms, birds, cows, pigs. We joke about the big round white poly-wrapped hay bales as being part of the early marshmallow crop.

Take the back road you don’t know, or tell your GPS voice to get stuffed. It will recalc if you want to go elsewhere, or just go home. Buy some veg from a farm stand. Part of our trip to Lake Huron involved us covering part of the Butter Tart Trail. Destinations abounded and then rewards of butter tarts, several of which are residing comfortably in our freezer for later. Did we see all kinds of beautiful pieces of Ontario that we didn’t know about? Sure did, picked up a couple of t-shirts and shot the breeze with the locals here and there. Even talked with some Americans who were up being tourists. We did welcome them, as we are Canadians and polite. They did apologize for their Toddler-In-Chief and we replied that we like you, just not that asshole. They agreed, we shook hands and life went on.

Eganville. Small town north and west of Ottawa, in the heart of the Ottawa Valley. It’s a ways from the Trans Canada, Highway 17, so it is back in the bush, not gravel roads, but a bit off the usual. A pretty little town on the Bonnechere River and they held their Taste Of The Valley event last weekend. Various artists, weavers, jewelry makers, pet treats, soaps and lotions. Sunshine, food and as added hook, an old colleague of mine from television days (’81 to ’88) lives up that way. We semi-stay in touch over social media but have not actually seen each other for close to 30 years. We dragged our various spouses along, prefacing things with “You both will be bored to shit, as we talk ancient history” Spent a lovely hour and change catching up and NOT boring our spouses. I call that a win.

That is the sort of pleasure of Countryside Basic #1. You never know what will show up, or who will show up. You get to enjoy the scenery, disconnect a bit and share some experiences. Can you do it yourself? Do you have a bicycle, or access to transit? One I’d like to accomplish, probably in the fall, is use a day off, get a day pass for OCTranspo and ride the whole length of the LRT. Might take a couple of hours, north-south-east-west and see the stations, as well as parts of the city I haven’t been to in years. Plus, my taxes are paying for this shit, so I might as well take a ride on it and see what we paid for. I may be pleased, or I may be aggravated. Who knows.

If you’ve got a trip, or an idea, comments are always welcome, but keep the scope close to your home. Yes, I would love to fly to Nepal and hike up a mountain for complete enlightenment, so let’s keep it local and a daytrip.

Will the Epstein List crush the Toddler-in-Chief?



The headline describes the essence of this post, so hang on as we do a quick review, then a prediction or two.

Short form here for the TLDR people. Jeffrey Epstein and his sidekick Ghislaine Maxwell spent many years as investors, model agents and social butterflies among the rich and powerful. There were significant rumours that Epstein and/or Maxwell or others in their employ trafficked very young women to various wealthy and connected people for them to fuck. Young, as in under the age of majority.

Epstein even had a private jet to ferry the girls and the guests to his private island in the Caribbean. Both were investigated and both were arrested for sex trafficking. Maxwell was convicted first and sentenced to 20 years in the crowbar hotel. Epstein was arrested and held in jail before his trial, as he was deemed a flight risk. Epstein died in custody under less than straightforward circumstances, August 10th 2019.

Since then, the US Department of Justice and the Federal Bureau of Investigation have held the evidence that convicted Ghislaine Maxwell and was going to be used to convict Jeffrey Epstein.  Which leads us to some obvious observations.

Why would Epstein and Maxwell traffic in young women? Answer, to curry favour with their clientele, rich, powerful (almost always) men. Since Epstein was at least on the surface an investment advisor, this could be construed as getting and keeping high-net-worth investors with “entertainment” and favours.

If these entertainments were in keeping with their own particular sexual practices, then so much the better. That the women were not always willing to consent to the arrangements speaks to the trafficking charges. There were several dozen women who testified to being sent on ‘dates’ or to ‘look after’ certain clients who were Epstein’s “friends” who could also help the young women with their ‘careers’ as models. Was there non-consensual sex involved? Yes, and the correct term is ‘rape’. Which is why Ghislaine Maxwell is in jail, the prosecution proved fully in court. It is also why Jeffrey Epstein was next on the docket.

Which means there is a paper trail, documents, notes, meetings, photos, video and the rest of the evidentiary chain. Is there a well-thumbed little black book with all the names, dates, times and physical interactions listed? Likely not, but there is enough corroborating evidence including emails, photos, videos, flight logs, witness statements and physical evidence to make it a slam-dunk.

Prosecutors don’t go forward with charges unless there is a smoking gun and they certainly do not go to trial, especially with high-profile suspects unless they have all the bases covered four times over. There is enough public domain images of Donald Trump with Jeffrey Epstein and various women to state with certainty that Diaper Don knew Epstein and was observed several times at parties with Epstein and several dozen women in entertainment venues. Even dimwitted observers could tell that most of the women were most likely under the age of 21, but were holding what would be commonly observed as alcoholic beverages and behaving in a more-than-friendly, if not flirtatious manner with Epstein, Trump and others. We’re talking about back in the 90’s here and of course up to the 2010’s or even later.

It got to the point where Maxwell had to organize others to procure for her, to introduce the women to Epstein and then on to Epstein’s friends. This means there is an extensive paper and testimonial trail.

Fast forward to Monday July 7 2025. US Attorney General Pam Bondi said there was no Epstein Client list.  Even after several video clips of her saying she has the Epstein files on her desk and was reviewing them before releasing them were brought forward and widely distributed.

Here’s where we get into that peculiar language of lawyer-ese. Is there a piece of paper in Jeffrey Epstein’s certified handwriting, headlined “My Client List of People I sent underage women to for sexual purposes” No. That is what Pam Bondi has said, there is no client list. All the other stuff that convicted Ghislaine Maxwell and was to be used to convict Jeffrey Epstein still exists, but unless you ask for a very specific title or piece of evidence, she can truthfully say there is no Epstein Client List.

If you were to ask, very specifically, for the flight logs for Jeffrey Epstein’s private jet currently registered as N550GP, a Gulfstream 550, or what was called the “Lolita Express” a privately owned 727, then you might get lucky. FAA rules are that the owner of the aircraft must keep these documents, essentially forever. As part of the flight logs (We flew from here to there) is the passenger manifest (And these are the folks that we flew in the aircraft).

Adding two plus two, if you were on a flight from the US to Epstein’s Caribbean island, the likelihood of you being involved in Bible Study, is mathematically insignificant. Not impossible, but highly unlikely.

So it’s not the Epstein Client List that we want: It is the rest of surrounding documentation. Catering bills, flight manifests, emails, voicemails, computer files, spreadsheets and the rest of the evidence that put Ghislaine Maxwell away and was lined up to put Jeffrey Epstein away.

That’s the real ask. Don’t let up on that because there is enough evidence to tie someone important to sex trafficking underage women. That is a line that even the most MAGA brain rotted wouldn’t stomach. Kiddy Diddler.

 

 

Summer Cold


Yes it is a contradiction in terms. Summer is hot. Winter is cold. But a cold in Summer? We know that means mass suckage. Which I rolled into on Canada Day and am only now seeing the word recovery on the distant horizon. Chills, fever, lassitude, tired all the time, endless coughing, being a snot fountain and generally feeling like a 6 foot bag of crap that can only sit up for a half-hour at a time.

This would also explain the lack of posts here. My apologies, but when you have a nasty cold, even staring at a screen to write, hurts. We’re now at the “please cough your testicles off every hour” phase. No, it wasn’t Covid-19, I was tested frequently with the brain swab tests, all negative. It also wasn’t pneumonia, again x-rays. It was/is just a big nasty cold.

Yes I am taking vitamins, cough suppressant, expectorant, acetaminophen as needed, plenty of water and resting. No I have not tried taping a live otter around my throat, a mustard and frog-tongue poultice, breathing in hot creosote fumes with a towel over my head and my feet in a bucket of warmed linseed oil or a hot beverage made of tea, gin, milled cream of wheat, capers and pickle juice.

Nor have I tried any of the other strange remedies that are out there and everyone swears cures the malady in mere hours, just like Great-Aunt Esther did in 1911 during the Influenza when everyone else in the village died and only she survived. Please stop.

I’ll be fine in a couple more days. There will be more writing, pix as appropriate and the usual shenanigans.

Vacation Continuation Pt.1


Continuing from the previous post on our vacation to Lake Huron.

While vacationing, one must eat for survival, for simple reasons: If you don’t eat, you don’t shit. If you don’t shit, you die. Dying tends to ruin ones’ day and is a tad permanent.

Food is one of those things that motivate us, not just for sustenance, but for the luxurious pleasures of the table. Combined with travelling about in the area, one seeks out places to dine, if only to find that one undiscovered treasure that only the locals know about. We eschew chain establishments, if only because they are consistently adequate, or are at a minimum, non-toxic.

One place we hit on the out-drive was Butchie’s in Whitby, just outside of Toronto. Andrea Nicholson from Food Network owns the joint and it is named after her Dad. Meat and Three is the staple, so you know the sides are going to be excellent and the meat will make you smile all the way up from your toes. Brisket, done right, no garish sauces, just salt, pepper and smoky low-temp time. Mac and Cheese, perfect and actual french fried potatoes that started as a fifty-pound bag of potatoes, fried and seasoned properly. Burger? Excellent, as expected, char, seasoned, toasted bun, correct condiments and very good coleslaw. Worth a stop if you have to go through the 416.

We use fries as a rudimentary yardstick. If the fries suck, so will the rest of the meal, or at least will have significantly lower expectations. We are of the Belgian or Twice-Fried persuasion when it comes to the humble side. They should never be frozen, but start as whole potatoes. Cut into the size that you desire, fried once at 300 F to almost fully cook the potato, then cooled for a bit to stabilize the starches. Then, cooked to order, (a la minuit) at 370 F to finish cooking to turn the outside into that Golden, Brown and Delicious (GBD) crunch. Seasoned, usually only with salt, as soon as they come out of the fryer then rushed to the diner, hot enough to burn your palate. What to put on them is a longer post with much potential for argument.

Relaxing during vacation time is an imperative. Gazing off into middle-distance, or leafing through your ‘summer’ book is one of the reasons you are on vacation. There is no expectation of profound revelations or astounding intellectual banter. Sometime the most one can hope for is a mumbled apology for farting or grunting if asked if they want another drink. One grunt, “yes” two grunts “no”. This is especially easy when surrounded by friends whom with you have traversed most of the Rideau Canal in a 32 foot cruiser over several days.

Sunsets? Heavens be, we had some glorious ones, facing due west. FYI, these are camera originals, only converted from .NEF to .jpg, no colour correction. There are several dozen more, but these will suffice for give you a taste.

Daytrips are always a fixture. We rambled about, Sauble Beach, a tourist town in summer, home to a sand beach more than seven kilometers in length with delicious white sand. Tourist shops of course, including an old Airstream trailer done up as a coffee bar. Southampton is a charming village town a touch further

south along the peninsula, with a break for lunch. Other trips included an abandoned stone homestead from the earliest days of the area originally built by a prosperous family, but now fallen into disrepair.

A boat tour took a pleasant piece of a whole day, sailing from Tobermory around the large spit of land around the Flower Pot islands and other geologic features peculiar to the area. The Bruce Peninsula is the site of several Parks Canada preserved areas for their geologic uniqueness as well as their wilderness habitat.

Then there were restaurants and brewers. Someone decided that strong cider would be a sound choice, so we did visit a couple of brewers near Thornbury. On the return home, we posit that half the weight of the car was cider in many forms and formulations.

Rambling is one of the lost arts of travel. We’re so invested in getting there, seeing the things on our list and hustling to the next destination that we forget to look out the window and see whatever the hell is out there. In the day we called it following the hood ornament. Since the vast majority of cars no longer have hood ornaments, this is an archaic term, but the concept is to go in that direction, or this direction and whatever shows up, shows up. If we want to stop, we will, or if we’ve discovered a patch of rust belt toxic landfill, we will keep moving. We choose.

As an example, the portrait to the left was done by a high school art student in Wiarton, on found media, specifically a piece of a cardboard box. We had no idea the gallery was hosting a display of the students’ creations, some primitive but showing promise, or this piece that is the result of many hours of diligent study of the form. We didn’t search it out, or Google up “Art in Wiarton”, we just walked into it and spent a few moments enjoying the display.

More highway, more beach and more sand, which sums up rambling. More to come later.