Si Vis Pacem Parabellum

| Friday, December 4 2015 |

Public Notice.

Given that President Zero's latest reichstag fire bright idea seems to be the equivalent of preventing car theft by leaving one's car in a dark alley with the keys in it: Move to replace all instances of "President Zero" with "President Fucktard".

posted by Mr. Lion @ 11:55 EST | comments (1)

| Saturday, November 14 2015 |

On Paris.

There are still a few good guys in France with guns, right? Because, y'know.. there's a pretty simple fix here.

-- Mr. Lion (@somelion) November 13, 2015

posted by Mr. Lion @ 19:47 EST | comments (0)

| Wednesday, October 28 2015 |

Rainy day ponderance.

One of these days I'm going to have to actually write about this empire of dirt I've been building over the last nearly-a-decade. 'course, that would require free time not already scheduled for scotch and/or naked women.

Until then, I'll just leave this here.


posted by Mr. Lion @ 20:27 EST | comments (0)

| Friday, October 2 2015 |

Dear Apple: OS X El Capitan

So far, 10.11 has a lot of little glue items I rather like. Even stupid little stuff like the new password cursor in terminal. There are, however, a few things I really do not like. So, bitch mode on:

1) When I have to disable System Integrity Protection to change the fucking horrid icon, System Integrity Protection is stupid.

2) If the new version of the aforementioned is going to require a six hour rebuild of my mail accounts, maybe fucking warn me beforehand?

3) While I realize the majority of iCloud users happily spew all of their iCloud-enabled information into said iCloud, I do not. Stop trying to trick me into doing so. Seriously, stop, or I'll just pull the iCloud plug all together. I barely tolerate iCloud mail as it is, and this continued fumbuckary is eroding said tolerance.

4) While I realize you guys hate Java nearly as much as Flash, some of us have to use it to pay for your shiny hardware. So maybe tell us when you're going to nuke and pave one's Java environment with an OS upgrade.

posted by Mr. Lion @ 18:47 EST | comments (0)

| Tuesday, July 28 2015 |

On Assholes.

It's not every day I agree with Piers Morgan on something. In fact, this is the first day. Ever.

Mogran opines on a recent transgression in Africa, in which a generally useless piece of shit named Dr. Walter Palmer, a dentist in Minnesota, thought it would be nifty to pay another bunch of useless pieces of shit $50,000 for the privilege of luring a lion out of a game preserve in Zimbabwe so he could kill it. Some people, who are also useless pieces of shit, call this "hunting".

It isn't.

I've been a hunter since I was judged old enough by my father to carry a rifle through the woods. I've hunted deer, moose, game birds, all manner of animals the like of which there are lots and lots of, to the point that their populations tend to explode without said hunting. I shot those animals because they taste good, and felt absolutely no remorse or concern for having done so. I took them home, cleaned them, and made a lovely barbecue that myself and many friends enjoyed over the years.

What I did not do, however, is mount any part of their anatomy to a plaque so I could display it to my buddies and attempt to convince them of my skill as a hunter, bravado, or penis size. Because doing that, in the opinion of this hunter of some 30 years, is fucking pathetic.

But what a certain Dr. Palmer did was not just pathetic, it was also illegal. It wasn't enough for him to travel to Africa and kill a species that is one step removed from being endangered. No, while there is a by all accounts thriving business in much of Africa known as canned hunting, wherein apex predators are raised specifically to be tied to a tree somewhere and shot by idiots so they have something to hang on their wall, this just wasn't challenging enough for Walter Palmer. He had to shoot a wild lion, of which there are around 20,000 left alive in the world.

In order to accomplish that, he paid a couple criminals to tote him out into the bush, lure a lion out of a game reserve with a dead animal, and killed it. Not cleanly, of course, as one can only assume it was more fun to wound this lion, and let it suffer for nearly two days, before having someone shoot it dead for him. At which point the interesting parts were cut off for Dr. Palmer's trophy case, and the rest left to rot in the bush.

Walter Palmer, you are an unspeakable piece of shit. As a hunter, a sportsman, and a human fucking being, you nauseate me. If there is any justice in the world, your despicable act will result in the loss of your livelihood, your friends, your family, and anyone on the "happy smile" side of being willing to piss on you after finding you burning in a ditch after a car wreck, you pathetic bastard.

In closing: Fuck you; you vile, ugly, pathetic little man.

posted by Mr. Lion @ 20:22 EST | comments (0)

| Wednesday, June 24 2015 |

The future belongs to me.

Along with everyone else who's over the age of 30 or so and wasn't raised in the ever encompassing nanny hell we now call home.

To wit:

Raise your hand if you survived a childhood in the 60s, 70s, and 80s that included one or more of the following, frowned-upon activities (raise both hands if you bear a scar proving your daredevil participation in these dare-devilish events):

1. Riding in the back of an open pick-up truck with a bunch of other kids
2. Leaving the house after breakfast and not returning until the streetlights came on, at which point, you raced home, ASAP so you didn’t get in trouble
3. Eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the school cafeteria
4. Riding your bike without a helmet
5. Riding your bike with a buddy on the handlebars, and neither of you wearing helmets
6. Drinking water from the hose in the yard
7. Swimming in creeks, rivers, ponds, and lakes (or what they now call *cough* “wild swimming“)
8. Climbing trees (One park cut the lower branches from a tree on the playground in case some stalwart child dared to climb them)
9. Having snowball fights (and accidentally hitting someone you shouldn’t)
10. Sledding without enough protective equipment to play a game in the NFL
11. Carrying a pocket knife to school (or having a fishing tackle box with sharp things on school property)
12. Camping
13. Throwing rocks at snakes in the river
14. Playing politically incorrect games like Cowboys and Indians
15. Playing Cops and Robbers with *gasp* toy guns
16. Pretending to shoot each other with sticks we imagined were guns
17. Shooting an actual gun or a bow (with *gasp* sharp arrows) at a can on a log, accompanied by our parents who gave us pointers to improve our aim. Heck, there was even a marksmanship club at my high school
18. Saying the words “gun” or “bang” or “pow pow” (there actually a freakin’ CODE about “playing with invisible guns”)
19. Working for your pocket money well before your teen years
20. Taking that money to the store and buying as much penny candy as you could afford, then eating it in one sitting
21. Eating pop rocks candy and drinking soda, just to prove we were exempt from that urban legend that said our stomachs would explode
22. Getting so dirty that your mom washed you off with the hose in the yard before letting you come into the house to have a shower
23. Writing lines for being a jerk at school, either on the board or on paper
24. Playing “dangerous” games like dodgeball, kickball, tag, whiffle ball, and red rover (The Health Department of New York issued a warning about the “significant risk of injury” from these games)
25. Walking to school alone

Of course, I did those things and more. I blasted through the woods on various dirt bikes at hilarious speeds. I built my own fireworks and blew up said woods on a regular basis. I drank, I smoked, I fell down, I got back up. I tested, and found, the limits of my parents. In doing so I earned their respect and found my own. I did all of the things that until quite recently were considered part of a normal childhood-- and as a result, I grew up to be a productive member of society with marketable skills, a moral code, and enough naturalist knowledge to survive a period of time without the benefit of a 7-11. All kids, even those that weren't the sharpest knives in the drawer when I was a kid, did the same.

Today? We utterly lose our shit over the fact that some retailers sell Battle Flag of the Army of Northern Virginia, and fall over ourselves trying to make sure that they don't. In America.

Two things are largely certain at this point: It's going to hit the fan, and when it does, the normal folk are going to be the ones to survive. Frankly, I can't say I mind.

(Via Mike)
posted by Mr. Lion @ 02:05 EST | comments (0)

| Wednesday, May 27 2015 |

The way of the future.

Remember, kids. Self-driving cars are what we need.

See also, self-flying airplanes.

posted by Mr. Lion @ 12:05 EST | comments (1)

| Thursday, March 26 2015 |

Yeah, that.

I tend to dislike film critics, except when they're clever and hate the same films I hate. Christopher Orr hates Sean Penn's latest venture into self gratification, The Gunman, and you should, too. Much of Orr's review is too good to excerpt, but I can't quite resist this bit:

24. Terry calls Jim’s cell phone. He’s taken both Stanley and Annie hostage, as recommended in the invaluable handbook Villainy For Idiots. While Jim listens, Terry shoots Stanley in the face, because that’s what Secret Villains do to Loyal Friends. He also threatens to kill Annie, unless Jim brings all his evidence against the company to a bullfight in Barcelona. Because, you know: Spain. (Here I feel obligated to point out that bullfighting has in fact been outlawed in Barcelona since 2012.)

posted by Mr. Lion @ 22:17 EST | comments (0)

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