Crikey. The major commercial playing over the internet now in my adopted hometown is for…The Cult.

They told me this was a metalhead town, and I didn’t listen. Wish I’d moved to San Marcos. Too late.

A small molecule of me wants to go, too, just to see the crowd. I’ve got gun range ear muffs. Prolly will need a gun to knock down the middle-aged meth-heads.

Oil’s falling through the floor becuase Algore has finally, after many long years on the trail, convinced Americans that oil sucks. So…T. Boone is now out of the wind game:

Texas billionaire T. Boone Pickens is revamping his renewable energy campaign in light of falling energy prices, the Associated Press reported Wednesday.

According to the AP, Pickens told a crowd gathered at the Edison Electric Institute convention that part of his reduction in spending on his renewable energy campaign includes placing his West Texas wind farm project on hold for now.

Pickens says the recent fall in gas prices is responsible for the delay in his wind farm project in West Texas, the AP reported.

Let me parse that for you — not enough of you suckers signed up for the Pickens Plan despite all the commercials. Everybody who did? Well, they spent your money on commercials. The great thing about this here snake oil — petrol will go up and down, and there’s some level where Pickens can crank back up and shut back down and do nothing but spend someone else’s money.

Pickens, who revealed his alternative energy plan earlier in the year, also told the U.S. Senate Homeland Security and Government Affairs Committee that the United States should be able to produce 22 percent of its electrical energy needs using wind-powered electricity, based on Department of Energy estimates.

It’s kind of prideful for a Texan — guy’s figured it out — “Here’s my Green, for your green. You know, I’ve talked in front of the Senators, so I know what I’m talking about.”

What can I say? I’m a salesman — I study this stuff. I’m a Texan, too, and I love the enormous balls of the sham. You can only do that when you’ve got your grandkid’s grandkid’s bajillions in the bank. That’s pretty awesome.

This has been suggested to me by a wise man:

My only beef is Weiand recommends them for up to 400cid. And I know if I ask, I’m going to get the head-shake, finger-shake, and Mr. Miyagi look.

Well, at $211, it’s not going on my 454 anytime soon. I think I need to get a, say, oh, I dunno, seat first.

Or maybe it’s time to start playing some online poker again…can you get money out of those joints, or do they just send you coupons for Taco Bell?

“Reviving Conservatism”

And if this somehow doesn’t work, the next step will be to dig up William Buckley and hold a seance, with John Derbyshire present to explain the otherwordly communications in term of abstruse mathematical formulas, genetic determinism, and — for reasons best left to him — the comeliness of fifteen-year-old girls with tight, shapely bumpers.

Because really, who beside such Beltway pundits whose guidance and boosterism allowed us to embrace a McCain nomination — some of whom have even referred to Sarah Palin a “cancer” on the GOP (and in so doing, conflated conservatism with their own blue blooded country club Republicanism) — are more qualified to help us “revive” conservatism?

I mean, check the credentials, people. Were David Brooks any more qualified to teach conservatives how to behave he’d have to wear a robe and speak from a fucking cloud.

Yeah, it’s an issue, this national soapbox business. Clearly, the Lamestream Media is still in control and will likely be for a good two years more, at least, thanks to their Obama win. We are, at a minimum, going to need guys who can get on the soapbox and tell the story. The problem, so astutely observed here, is that those guys are off in the Mediterranean or the Antilles or somesuch, on a cruise ship with all expenses paid. WTF do they know about me, about capitalism on the ground, about freedom on the ground, about liberty on the ground, except as abstract concepts? The way I’d put it is, they kinda need to get familiar with who they’re working for.

Don’t misunderstand — abstract concepts are exceedingly important (we built the most important and successful nation ever seen in the history of the world on abstract concepts, yaknow) AND the world needs wordsmiths. Just not sure they’ve got the whole “living the concept” down, thanks to their station in life.

Well, whatever they decide to do, it’s not going to change my approach to life. I’m hardheaded that way.

This one goes on the Big 10 454 - the river runner:

Carter AFB, 600cfm, electric choke. I so bad want to buy an intake manifold for it, but not yet. Gotta rebuild the trans first, or buy an overdrive 700 from the junkyard. I peeled off some more trim today, too. In my drunker moments, I think I should just sand it down and paint the whole damn thing in wrinkle black. That would be funny, to me, for about 10 minutes. I wonder if there’s like a 5- or 6-peed manual I can slap in it. Gotta be, no?

No, I ain’t feeling any better — business is drying up. People are scrambling. Gotta scramble harder, all there is to it. I sure picked a fine year to go into business for myself, didn’t I?

Look, I’m just tired of trying to explain to people that even the retarded 21st century version of personal liberty bequeathed to us by the Founding Dudes is worth nurturing and saving for future generations. Nobody wants to hear it, and I’ve run out of breath and time. Our O-fficial nation is wandering into some EuroDisney version of America. Un-O-fficial America is battening down the hatches, hoping to survive this massacre of the American Dream. I’m sure it’s possible, in some distorted sense, and I hope it all works out for all the drones in .gov cubicleland, but I can’t imagine it coming out the other end of the National Colon looking like what got my motor revved up in 1978. I just can’t, and fine, that’s a failure of my imagination, but good grief, all the O-fficials — when did the whole of America make peace with the government, of all things, deciding what’s the haps? Jeezus, it was still a big joke, not 10 years ago - I’m from the government and I’m here to help. I guess it started looking good when they started handing out checks to the mongoloids and Chrysler and Goldman-Sachs.

OK, then…you understand why, if I don’t post much anymore. Just beat down. Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow feeling better, you never know.

Gonna be interesting to see where the kids take the music. Maybe they’ll get over that Woodie Guthrie “woe is the working man” horseshit, finally, and forever, when they figure out that they’re picking banjos and sequencing synthesizers for the feds. See, ray of light there…some new NASCAR, not so beholden, running from the revenooers on electric scooters or rocketships. I feel a little better already. Christ, you can’t kill freedom, can you? Fuck, no.

Po-po in Philly arresting a man for wearing the wrong t-shirt, mostly at the behest of the crowd, but there’s a little bit of authority weight-throwing going on:

Who thinks it’s going to get better? Back in the good old days, police forces were formed to protect the rights of citizens. I weep, but I’m also buying ammo. That right there is pure bullshit. Not surprising it happened in the Northeast.

Let me circumvent an argument right here & right now, too: for his own good. Not following that philosophy would have possibly allowed the young man to get his ass beat, and maybe even killed, by an angry mob. And so, by extension, the Philly po-po can tell me to take my cholesterol dope, even though I’ve informed myself and chosen not to because it makes me feel like shit. Do you see how that works? Do I need to get deeper into the minutae? Do I need to stamp every dot between Point A and Point B for you?

And if the po-po wants to do some active community policing, they could have waded in and busted up the first bunch of assholes who laid a finger on the young man. But it’s far easier to cuff one young punk and drive him away to somewhere else, than it is to deal with a mob. Hard choice, sure, but I’d kind of like to think we go Constitutional here. Guess not. Welcome to Obamerica. Four more years on the way, and the hack isn’t even president. Mob rule — get used to it.

Oh man is it loud. Cops will be here if I fire it up again tonight.

That would be this. Two weeks late, but who’s counting? I might actually get the ‘69 short-stepper running for more than 3 seconds of starter fluid this weekend. I’m just dying to figure out how much other crap is broken on this thing…kinda hard to if it’s not running.

Check out this sweet valve cover, too:

Too much glam?

I took a couple of hours yesterday and drove up north a little bit to find a campground for the winter. I flat can’t sleep outdoors when it’s hot, but winter camping is great — nice fire, good bourbon, warm sleeping bag, umbrella of stars. I found a place that reminds me a great deal of the old Tiny Bidness, and apparently, according to the nice lady who answers the phone, they get zero traffic during the winter. Thanks, wimpy South Texans! No showers, but it’s close enough that I could drive home to do that if it bothered me enough. I’ll maybe go after Thanksgiving…bidness has me hopping this month, and most of December, too.

Why’s there NFL on Thursday night before Thanksgiving? Thank goodness, though…my man Jay Cutler is racking up the points.

Here’s another Huh? Why the hell is the media (teevee was on at the Bitter Old Man’s Lounge) still talking about Sarah Palin? SHE LOST, you dipshits. Go and cover The Lightworker — ask him why the market has done a Wide World of Sports Acapulco cliff dive since the polls closed.

Or are you worried, you sniveling little weasels? I would be, if I were in your [insert poncy footwear here because I don't know]. In the immortal words of Jimi Hendrix, “coming to getcha.”

In no particular order:

Jim Treacher
Jeff Goldstein
Francis Poretto
Alan Sullivan
John Weidner
Iowahawk
Velociman
Big Dick Stanley
Diller, who should have a blog of his own
The R Man, who should ditto

But most especially Charles “Chuckles” Austin, who does a fine job managing my mercurial emotions without a molecule of knowledge that he does so, and causing so many firing neurons it’s not funny…in fact, it’s slightly aggravating, because I have to go research shit I can otherwise pretend like I already know.

Seriously, after six and a half years, I often can’t figure out why I sit down and do this* stupid hobby every night. Those cats up there keep it fun, invigorating, and worthwhile, and they’ve done awesome work in this horrifying election season. You would do well them to plug them into your Google Reader.

* Well, yeah…booze.

ALT HED: Flyover contracts?

Whichever, makes a lot of people happy, these days. Who am I to say they’re wrong? Except, no matter how much they vote blue, they’re still gonna be out on the farm to those folks. Oh well, it’s hard to get comfortable in your own skin. We’ll see how they like living in someone else’s soon enough.

• Vice President Joe Biden
• First Lady Michelle Obama
• Assault weapon ban
• Go-go entrepreneurialism replaced with grievance-monger rent-seeking
• Lifetime federal judiciary appointments (thanks to Barndog for that)
• At least two years of morning diarrhea, just like the last 90 days (probably TMI, but it’s my pity party)
• Any thought of hiring permanent employees pretty much gone until I figure out how to be a successful rent-seeker; that’s not going to be easy as I’m an old white guy Satan and so is my partner; we’re feeling pretty well fucked, and that’s definitely pure pity

UPDATE:

• The frikkin water-carrying lamestream media won - this, if anything, will disengage me even more from the real world

…the Democrats could have taken their Super-Majority. They didn’t.

It’s such a back-to-the-future moment. I feel much like I did in 1977, when, rather than operating with just a diffused feeling of what’s-the-point, I started realizing how destructive leftist philosophy is to the American Dream. Problem is, I’m 30 years older and tired-ererr.

OK, then, one day of pity-party, then back to work. Bloody Marys at noon?

So which one of you bitter, cousin-humpin’, Bible-thumpin’, gun-clingin’, racist rednecks is having an Election Party?

I just got back from beautiful Laredo, where I smashed up the front end of my truck and turned the day’s profits into a severe net-negative. Does Uhhhbama have government body shops on the docket, and how far down are they on the list for the first 100 days of Ameritopia? It’s nothing mechanical, all high-dollar chinese plastic held on by NASA-grade titanium screws…nothing that can’t be cured by $3,000, I’m sure. Or a liberal application of baling wire.

Greatest phone call today was from my old pard Otis, this AM: “Eh, I’m headed to the office, then I’m leaving early, and going to buy some guns.”