Welcome back, my friends, to the "Battle" that never ends.
We're so glad you could attend. Come inside! Come inside!
This is 'BATTLE OF THE BANDS' ('BOTB') where you listen to different recordings and vote for the one you like best. A new Battle gets posted on the 1st of each month and on the 7th, I place my own vote, tally 'em all up and announce the winner.
Friend? Foe? Stranger? No matter, ALL are welcome. So pull up a chair, pour yourself 24 oz. of DOG BITE High Gravity Lager (or the poison of your choice) and turn it up to Eleven!
[NOTE: Links to the first year of 'BOTB' (#1 - #24) can be found at the very bottom of this page.]

Saturday, December 12, 2015




DogGs & DogGettes ~

Yesterday, while making $18.00 an hour to do so, I got further caught up on my Fred Reed reading. (If you don't know what I'm yakking about, click HERE.) And I found some mo' stuffs that I felt compelled to quote here. Believe me, there's plenty mo' where this came from. I'm just trying to whet yer appetite for FredOnEverything.org.

Again, I don't agree with Fred more than 93.86% of the time. So, don't make the mistake of making me out to be a Fred Reed whore, sycophant, and yes-man. But he's worth reading regularly, whether you agree with him 100% of the time, or just 0% of the time.

In May of 2018, the second year of Mrs. Clinton’s administration, national puzzlement was high over the continuing wave of mass killings. A week before, nineteen children had died in the Blaintree Kindergarten massacre in San Francisco when Mohammed Shah Massoud, Faisal ibn Saud, and Hussein al Rashid burst into the school and began firing.

As in the shooting three months earlier of thirteen in Washington by Mohammed Faisal and Sala al Din Hussein, and in the preceding fire-bombing of the Hancock Tower in Chicago by Farouk ibn Mohammed, experts struggled to make sense of events. The head of Homeland Security, Chupamela Sanchez-Jones, explained it succinctly: “It is almost impossible to prevent attacks when they have nothing in common. What do you look out for?  What is the connection between killing children, firebombing a restaurant, and flying aircraft into buildings? There is none. It is baffling.”

Everyone of importance—the New York Times, MSNBC, NPR, the Huffington Post, Mother Jones, and Salon—agreed that there was no obvious motive. Time and again for many years attackers had come from nowhere and killed for no reason. There was no pattern except the strange cry, “Allahu Akbar.”

Mrs. Clinton’s  Secretary of Defense, Wilhelmina “Creepy” Crawley, offered an explanation.

“My staff at the Pentagon have determined that “Akbar” is a combination of “AK,” automatic Kalashnikov, which I am told is a form of gun, and BAR, Browning Automatic Rifle. This shows an unwholesome fascination with guns. We are investigating links to the NRA:”

Logic indeed urged control of guns. In October of 2017, three gunmen—Mohammed Massouf, Mohammed Ali ibn Hussein, and Abu Bakr ibn Saud–had shot and killed fourteen people at Starbucks in Philadelphia. They too had shouted about Browning Automatic Rifles.

Priscilla Latvi-Germond, Director the FBI, offered another possibility. “We think the killers may be white-supremacists, perhaps linked to the KKK.” When it was pointed out that few of the terrorists were white, she said that this was evidence of a dangerous spread of White Supremacism to people of color. 
Allahu Akbar!: The View from 2018

Today, if a guy doesn’t fall apart in the most embarrassing manner you can imagine, under the mildest stress, some earnest grief-counseling geekess will tell him that men need to get in touch with their feelings. (Men devoutly wish women would get out of touch with theirs.)

We have a different flavor of therapist for every contingency. See, it’s multi-faceted, specialized, categorized patheticness. (That was almost a word.) Look in the self-help section of any bookstore, and you’ll find titles like, “The Agony of Limp Hair: A Guide to Recovery.” So help me, I’ve seen “pet-loss grief therapy” on the lobotomy box. Your cat croaks, so a dweebette appears, solicitous and consoling enough to gag a maggot, to help you work through your grief.

Over a cat.

Now, you’d think an adult could survive cat loss without a support group. Sure, Tabby was an agreeable animal and purred when cosseted. Cats aren’t evil. They’re just useless. And now Tabby is gone forever — in heaven, ignoring God. There’s a sense of loss, I guess, like when you misplace your keys.

But — a grief therapist? To tell you not to spend too much time alone at first, especially at night, and don’t dwell on things that were dear to Tabby, like her ball of string, and her catnip mouse, and her half-eaten roaches? And remember when you get a new kitten, don’t think of it as a replacement for Tabby who is irreplaceable in your heart, but rather et cetera ad nauseam and beyond.

They talk like this, so help me.

Stuff 'em down a well, I say. Shove Oprah on top, like a cork. And then go for barbecued ribs. And lots of beer. We’ll need it. 
A Plague of Grief Therapy: Dweebesses, Geekettes, and Earnest Men In Panty Hose

We may be left with the Washington Post for sophomoric liberals, the New York Times for post-adolescent liberals, and the Washington Times, momentarily the nation’s flagship conservative publication, for the rest of humanity.

I said “momentarily” the conservative flagship, because there are proliferating on the Web more and more Web-only publications, which compete with the truck-farm pubs. [...]

From a writer’s point of view, the Web is better than moonshine and grape juice. It is god’s truth that political correctness rules ink-and-paper journalism. I’m on the Web because FredOnEverything couldn’t get published in newspapers-not because it’s badly written but because it isn’t real correct. Editors of newspapers like to think of themselves as kick-ass guys who go against the grain and let the chips fall where they may. Actually they’re scared of the readers, scared of the advertisers, scared of blacks and feminists and their colleagues in the newsroom and at the press club.

So, in the truck-farm world, to get published you need to go along, write what you are supposed to write, and suck up to editors to get limited space on the op page.

On the Web, the big boys no longer control the means of production or distribution. Anyone can just publish. (The total cost of this column, beyond writing it and doing a little html, is less than $400 a year.) Promotion takes time and effort, sure. But you sink or swim according to whether people want to read what you write. You can write a lousy column forever in a newspaper, and most newspaper columnists do. On the Web, people gotta like it or you can hang it up. But if they do like it, you fly on your own.

What the Web is telling the established newspapers is, “It’s democracy, sweethearts. Get used to it.” 
Duh…Huh? Disordered Thoughts Of A New Web Journalist

As for the Supreme Court of New Jersey, if there were a tax on brains, they would get a rebate. [...] I worry about men in nighties. 
Playing with Boy Scouts: Let Me Rub It To Make It Better

Sez me, beer has its virtue. Always has, always will. Fact is, this world doesn’t amount to much unless you give it a little amplification sometimes. You have to encourage it. The dross is there, but you can find bits of gold. For starters, take good companions, a pitcher of malt lubricant, add a good blues harmonica that sounds like broken hearts or a cat fight, depending. Or a country band singing philosophy like, “Life’s an Infomercial (Actual Results May Vary.)” Toss in a slab of ribs and some really raunchy barbecued beans and a plate of fritters.

Now, that’s meaning. We don’t get a whole lot of it.

Tell you what. If you want to sit around your living room and drink designer water with grimly nice people who avoid second-hand smoke and dress carefully and have the personality of potted plants, it’s your business. You’ll probably live longer, though I’m not sure why you’d want to. 
Brew, Fritters, and Two-Steppin’ — A Revisionist View Of Bars

And this one you just have to read for yourself, in its entirety:
That's one of the funniest pieces of writing I've come across in some time.

~ Stephen T. McCarthy


  1. God, I hope Clinton doesn't win. Her and Trump need to join Oprah and the rest of the poor pitiful me types who need a grief counselor because they stubbed their toe, down that deep dark hole never to be seen again.

    1. PAT ~
      There is no hope. Literally.

      I don't want Communist Clinton to win either. Not because she will ruin this country (that's already been done). I don't want her to win because... she so desperately wants to win.

      Thanks for the comment.

      ~ D-FensDogG
      'Loyal American Underground'

    2. No hope? You think she is going to win? Ugg, blind leading the blind with her there. She's been desperate to win for a while. And it will be the same as Obama, people want to feel apart of history, so oh I'll vote for a woman like I voted for the black guy. Now I've been part of history twice. Not voting wise voting stupid is the case most everywhere these days.

    3. PAT ~
      I could be wrong but... no, I do not think Hillary is going to win.

      Not sure who will win, but knowing what I do about politics (which, if I may say so, is in the "advanced" degrees), right now, I would guess that the winner - whoever it turns out to be - is currently bubbling below the radar, if even on it at all.

      Although Trump and Hellary are the front-runners of their respective political parties now, I suspect that neither of them will be the next POTUS.

      Hellary has too much baggage. Trump (if he means what he says, which I strongly doubt) will be taken out of the picture as time goes on. (Today, I think Trump is just this year's Ross Perot, and he will disappear like Perot did, when the time is right for him to disappear.)

      But, BOTTOM LINE...
      The reason there is NO HOPE is because "The Wizards Behind The Curtain" ("International Bankers") control EVERYTHING, and NO PERSON will ever become POTUS unless they approve that candidate beforehand.

      The political parties are total bullshit. Yes, they say many differing things, but that's only to keep up the facade that they have opposing ideas about how the nation should be governed. Regardless of which party occupies the White House, the taxing, over-spending, and the police state continue and get expanded. (When did the Republicans do what they promised, and rolled back the Socialist "progress"? And when did the Democrats NOT further promote Socialism? Forget the words; pay attention to the actions. The tree is not known by its words but by its fruit.)

      It's all EXACTLY like a puppet show (Punch & Judy) where two "characters" fight in public for the sake of the audience, but behind the scenes, one entity (The International Bankers) control them both and manipulate EVERYTHING, from the politicians, to the courts, to the mainstream media.

      I could even tell you who CONTROLS the "International Bankers", but I'm sure I sound too crazy already.

      ~ D-FensDogG

    4. haha just because one sounds crazy, doesn't mean they are wrong.

    5. :o) Ha! I choose to believe that, also.

      ~ D-FensDogG

  2. I start giggling every time I think about those Arabic names...with no connection whatsoever. People of color flicking to join 'white supremacists' - help. I'm on the floor laughing my a$& off.

    1. HA! I know. Those lines about the NRA connection and White Supremacism having spread to people of color are nuttin' short of genius.

      And that entire article about "CHUCKIE MANSON..." is off-the-charts. I was born and raised in (Los Angeles) California, and no one knows better'n I do how accurate that "fake-real" article was.

      As a writer, Fred Reed is "scary" good! I used to think I was pretty talented as a writer, but reading his stuffs, I've been forced (dog-damn-it!) to re-evaluate my talent and downgrade meself. ...The SOB!

      ~ Stephen

  3. This cannot be a true story-it must be propoganda...

    In October of 2017, three gunmen—Mohammed Massouf, Mohammed Ali ibn Hussein, and Abu Bakr ibn Saud–had shot and killed fourteen people at Starbucks in Philadelphia

    In Philly, everyone drinks Dunkin' Donuts coffee. There would never be fourteen people (counting staff) in a Starbucks!

    Get your President Clinton Redux tee shits now!


    1. >>... In Philly, everyone drinks Dunkin' Donuts coffee. There would never be fourteen people (counting staff) in a Starbucks!

      I may have dismissed the place too quickly upon my one and only visit. I should try to make it back again someday.

      I've been in a Starbucks only once (because someone from "The Grave" gave me a gift card at Christmas). Way too many Frasiers and Nileses there for me to feel comfortable.

      I asked for a cup of "Black Coffee" and I got this blank stare. And then the questions... "Black Nigerian Coffee? Black Hebrew Coffee? Black Swedish Coffee? Semi-Black Obama Coffee? Or a Black Obama Phone, with Socialist Coffee?"

      ~ D-FensDogG
      'Loyal American Underground'

  4. And now Tabby is gone forever — in heaven, ignoring God.

    I love that line. So subtly funny. Great satire here, and I also am in the same boat that might want to move to Canada or hell even Cuba if Clinton and Trump end up being the frontrunners.

    I see what you mean about the 93.86% agreement, though. For example, I don't want to be anywhere near secondhand smoke and I dress carefully (it's the only way to avoid injury), and I don't have the personality of a potted plant, thankyouverymuch.


    1. HA!-HA! Leave it to you to zero in on that line.

      When I first read it, I was at work, and I literally - LITERALLY! - started laughing so loud and so long that I had to get up from my desk and wander around the lobby until I could get control of myself.

      I kid you not, TEARS were running down my face. And when I went back to my desk, I had to get a tissue to dry my face, and then put some redness-reducer drops into my eyes. ALL TRUE!!!

      That line is hysterically funny. But you gotta know cats to get it.

      [I've been laughing-out-loud the entire time I've been typing this. Just thinking about that image cracks me up! I hate to say it but... I think Fred's a genius... or pretty close, anyway.]

      I really have no problem with second-hand smoke (unless it's going directly into my face). But then both my parents were smokers, so I grew up around it. I figure second-hand smoke is just God's way of training us for Armageddon (coming soon to a world near you).

      My issues with Fred are more along the lines of...

      He thinks cops are mostly good. ...WRONG!

      Women should be allowed to be cops. ...WRONG!

      Islamic terrorists were behind 9/11. ...WRONG!

      He misses the big picture in many ways, and concerning those issues where we disagree, I would destroy him in a debate. I believe he has a tendency to sometimes make up his mind and then ignore evidence to the contrary. I ALWAYS let the evidence lead me to my conclusions.

      But Fred is usually right (and I may occasionally be wrong, but intellectually honestly so) and his thinking is logical and Super-Humorous.

      I would drink beer with Fred any day of the week. But... he'd be drinking Bud or Modelo while I'd be drinking something much better.

      Fred's a better writer than I am, but I have better taste in beer, thankyouverymuch.

      Say, did you like 'SCROOGE' even a little bit? Ain't heard a peep from you 'bout it.

      ~ D-FensDogG
      'Loyal American Underground'


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