Yesterday’s post was meant to go up today. I have difficulty with the days of the week so I post this for Saturday.

Why California Has So Many Homeless

James moved to San Francisco because he could get money and food stamps from the city and it paid for him to have entertainment on his cellphone.

“F*****g phone call bro… Two hundred food stamps and $620 cash a month. Forget about it. Why wouldn’t I do it? You know, it’s f*****g free money dude,” he commented. “Why would I want to pay rent? I’m not doing s**t. I’ve got a f*****g cell phone that I have Amazon Prime and Netflix on.”

This will prove that I am a domestic terrorist.

If your home becomes infested with cockroaches you might use chemical means to combat them.

I feel a lot elected officials, from school boards to Presidents are as useful as cockroaches and need eliminating. Additionally, I am not opposed to kicking most of the bureaucrats to the curb.

There is no reasoning with them. Can you imagine trying to dialog with Maxine Waters? It would be like trying to talk cockroaches into leaving your house.

We could dump the lot of them in a large wood chipper. But that would create an environmental mess. Besides, the fools that voted for them would just elect another one.

The first episode of Get Smart showed a way better than a wood chipper. Professor Dante invented the Enthermo. (Get it?) How about a Death Star with an Enthermo that would roam around and incinerate people that don’t think like me.  Too narcissistic? No worse than your ordinary democrat, err communist, who seeks to control the world.


I Got Your Climate Change Right Here

After two decades of back and forth on what man could do about climate change, not one idea offers a scintilla of promise.

The economist that I trust says that even if the US went back to an 1800 economy and spent every dollar it would not reduce the temperature but two-tenths of a degree by 2050.

The fraud will continue as long as it’s possible to transfer money from taxpayers to those engaged in jiggery-pokery.

The Earth will soon be uninhabitable – Really?

In fact, anything getting colder barely gets a look-in these days. Arctic sea ice is making a significant, near silent comeback. Summer ice at the end of September covered 4.92 million square kilometres, which was 1.35 million sq kms higher than the 2012 low. Over on land, the Greenland ice sheet may have increased in size over the last year to August 2022. Meanwhile, the zoologist Dr. Susan Crockford has reported that this is the fifth year out of the last seven that enough sea ice has formed along the west coast of Hudson Bay by mid-November for hunting polar bears to be able to head out to the ice, “just as it did in the 1980s”.

Of course, it has been a very bad year for climate catastrophists all round. Coral is growing on the Great Barrier Reef with a vengeance, just a few years after journalists and their ‘experts’ warned it was likely to disappear. According to the latest satellite data, the global temperature hasn’t moved for over eight years. A little extra carbon dioxide in the atmosphere has led to significant ‘greening’ of the planet, a process that over the last 30 years has undoubtedly reduced world hunger and famine. Sir David Attenborough recently ran a series of six Frozen Planet II green propaganda films featuring a variety of ‘modelled’ climate catastrophes. Notable was the claim that all the Arctic summer sea ice could be gone by 2035. In addition, he highlighted a colony of Adelie penguins in western Antarctica, whose numbers were said to have fallen over 40 years from 20,000 to just 400 breeding pairs, apparently due to climate change. Missing from the narrative was the more cheerful news that a colony of 1.5 million Adelies had recently been discovered on the eastern side of the continent.

Third Saturday

First, a minor note – I have been using the Brave browser the past week. I like it. It looks and behaves like Chrome. Privacy from tracking is really good. My cookie collection has dropped by 2/3. Pop-ups and ads are suppressed. It even includes TOR browsing if any of you degenerates need to dive into the dark web looking for underage Thai girls.

Second, I am feeling a lot better and posted six times this week.

Here’s a potpourri of topics from my Evernote clipper. Something to offend everyone and maybe provide food for thought for others.

We Sure Got Our Money’s Worth in Afganistan
Of $145 billion dedicated to Afghanistan reconstruction since 2002, $36.3 billion went to building a “stable, representative and democratic” government in Afghanistan, according to the report. Nevertheless, the government evaporated when then-president Ashraf Ghani fled in the wake of the Taliban’s rapid takeover and U.S. military exit.
145 Billion and that not counting the military effort. It was Vietnam all over again.

People who imagine an energy transition want to build windmills and solar panels and store all that energy in batteries. But if you do the arithmetic, you find you’d need to build about a hundred trillion dollars’ worth of batteries to store the same amount of energy that Europe has in storage now for this winter. It would take the world’s battery factories 400 years to manufacture that many batteries.”

Life in 2022

The Barnum & Bailey of Donald Trump, the Alice in Wonderland of Joe Biden, the doctrinaire be-nice-or-else of the canceling woke, the paramilitary fruitcakes loose in the land, the decadent gender obsessions, the assault rifles, the politics of germs, the recreational looting, the law that turns felons loose, pandemic homelessness, the trillions in debt that means nothing, the wide- open border and the endless sanctimony.


Trump had many policy successes: taxes and deregulation, energy security, judges, the Abraham Accords, correcting illusions about Iran, among others.
But his character flaws—narcissism, lack of self-control, abusive treatment of advisers, his puerile vendettas—interfered with that success. Before Covid he was headed for re-election. But the damage from his shutdown of the economy combined with his erratic behavior in that crisis gave Joe Biden the opening to campaign for normalcy. Mr. Trump lost a winnable election.
Had he accepted that defeat, he might now be poised for a comeback given Mr. Biden’s unpopularity. But Mr. Trump contested the outcome well past any reasonable limit and encouraged his supporters to march on the Capitol on Jan. 6. He badgered his loyal Vice President, Mike Pence, to stop the Electoral College vote count to the point where lives were in danger, including Mr. Pence’s. The deadly riot will forever stain his legacy.

From Vanilla Spanking
An exchange between the characters played by Barbara Stanwyck and Joel McCrea in Cecil B. DeMille’s 1939 blockbuster, Union Pacific:
MOLLIE MONAHAN: Did you never know that flirting gets into a woman’s blood like fighting gets into a man’s? Now, a girl begins coquetting to discover if she has the power. Then she goes looking, like a fighter after a bully, for the hardest man to conquer. But ’tis never the man she wants, ’tis the pleasure of bringing him to her feet.
JEFF BUTLER: Till the right man comes along and gives her the spanking she deserves.
MOLLIE MONAHAN: Ah, that’s the man she dreams of.

Will Republicans Come Up With an Agenda?

I wonder how bad things have to get before voters reject the Democratic policies responsible for so much destruction. Massive, out-of-control deficit spending sparked 40-year-high inflation. The war on fossil fuels has produced record prices, which also contributed to inflation. Radical progressive policies have caused crime to skyrocket, and President Biden’s open border has resulted in a flood of illegal immigrants and deadly drugs.

President Sugar Cone
Victor Davis Hanson says Biden is the most dangerously radical President in US history.

Why Not?
According to Aristotle, it was “democratic for officials to be chosen by lot.

The expansive triplet in the Gettysburg Address
“…government of the people, by the people, for the people.” This wasn’t merely a rhetorical flourish. In that triplet, Lincoln lays out the three fundamental elements of democracy. The first is consent—government of the people. “According to our ancient faith,” Lincoln said in his 1854 speech objecting to the Kansas-Nebraska Act, which compromised on slavery, “the just powers of governments are derived from the consent of the governed.” That meant plainly “that no man is good enough to govern another man, without that other’s consent.
Lincoln wrote, government served to do only those things that need “to be done, but which they can not, by individual effort, do at all, or do so well, for themselves,” such as roads and bridges, schools and asylums, the enforcement of the laws and the defense of the nation. While government isn’t “charged with the duty of redressing, or preventing, all the wrongs in the world,” he said in 1859, it does have the responsibility to keep from “planting and cultivating too many thorns in the bosom of society.

Signs of the Times

My pick to torture for the harm she has done

The Hate in Her Eyes Before She Spits on Him


Blue Eyed Girl

She had refulgent blue eyes. Or so I thought. Bacall took one look and told me they were contacts. But with her name being Robin, I decided to acquiesce to the harmless deceit. Most of the guys were focused on her breasts, which were massive and never unnoticeable or well concealed.

The blue eyed girl came to mind this morning when I was writing to a cyber chum about social security. Yeah. You see the linkage right away. Welcome to my mind.

I related to him that in 1972, I told Blue Eyed Robin at lunch that I would gladly forfeit SS, if they would just let me out of it. [Lunch with Robin consisted of a sandwich and long tokes on the bong attached to her dashboard]

I had not thought of Robin in a long time. She is worth a post. She told me in a matter of fact way that I could spank her if I wanted to. So we made a plan. When I showed up at her place, I found she was living with a guy, another computer geek. I was off-put with another guy around. I took him to be a bottom. Anyway, we talked, smoked, drank and I left without putting a hand on her.

I never knew why Robin brought spanking up. Perhaps because I had spanked two other girls at the office. The little darlings do talk.

So you see that payments to social security, blue eyes and spanking are all interrelated in my wee mind.

There were some non-spanking adventures with Robin and friends like the road trip to Gulf Shores where limited debauchery took place. On to New Orleans where mass degeneracy occurred. Bacall and I took no part of it. And finally to Baton Rouge where we did tame things like eating and drinking too much. Baton Rouge is our fav party town.

Years later I met a true blue eyed girl. That was her screen name. You have seen pictures of her back side here over the years.

Tango? Por una Cabeza is the classic tango. Don’t look at her ass.

Por una Cabeza


If you had asked me last week I would have said we have never been outed. Then this came to mind this week.

The players. We vetted a gal and she seemed OK, so we invited her to our place to play. That weekend we learned that she was twice a widow and collecting her deceased husband’s pension. One thing to say she had lost two husbands to death. Another to say she was collecting their pensions. We thought that was suspecious and wondered if she had a hand in their deaths.

I don’t recall her attending a party, but she took up with a member of the group that was a deputy sheriff and would be pension eligible one day. They married. It did not last long. He told me she showed his daughter videos that they had made of them spanking and having sex.

I guess I was relieved that he has not suicided himself.

Time goes by and during a reception at a country club, the wife of one of Bacall’s associates buttonholes us with a story. She was a crackerjack divorce attorney well known for extracting maximum pain from her clients’ partner.

While we saw her at social events, she had never given us much more to us than Hi.  We were just not worth her time. Now she was telling us this long story about her client, who knew a couple who used our first names and engaged in spanking. We listened and said nothing. And that was the end of it as far as we know. Maybe she told others?


In the Computer Lab

This story was written by an OBB reader.

Mr. Chavin looked up from his desk at the knock on his door– it was 7pm he was working late, on some new computers. “Come in,” he said, standing and reaching out to shake the hand of the woman who entered. “Susan Jones” She was his neighbor, she was a widow with two boys and lived near the school not too far from his own house.

“Paul Chavin,” she said back to him, completing their introduction. “How are you?”

“I’m doing well, and yourself? What brings you here this evening,” he said, sitting again and then gesturing at the empty seat near him. “Please feel free to have a seat.”

Ms. Jones looked at the chair, then slowly let her gaze find Paul again. “I believe I’ll stand, thank you. I’d like to be direct about a few things, if you don’t mind me getting straight to it.”

The Paul sat up a little straighter, giving Ms. Jones his undivided attention. “Is there a problem? I value conference time for all of my students but I really have only praise for your boys. They are bright, talkative, curious. A real joy to have in class,” he finished. It was cliche, but it was true.

“Yes,” replied Ms. Jones, both hands on the strap of the purse that hung from one of her shoulders. Yes they have been good children with a lot of initiative. They helped build your class website, is that correct?”

“It is,” answered Paul, still not understanding the source of her discomfort.

“A project I assume you have been intimately involved in?” Ms. Jones pressed, her lips tight between the words.

“Well yes,” Paul answered again, though as he spoke he realized that wasn’t entirely accurate. The boys and a few others had taken so quickly to the project when it was introduced, as the semester progressed, he’d offered less and less guidance. In truth, it was sort of nice to have some time in the day that was quiet, where he wasn’t needed for a few short minutes.

“Pull up the website, please,” Ms. Jones said, moving to stand behind Paul so they were both facing the screen of the computer on his desk. Not sure what else to do, the teacher complied. For a few minutes there were only the sounds of soft keyboard clicks, and then a simple but effective webpage popped up. Small tigers danced across the bottom of the screen, the school’s mascot. “Look closely,” she said after a few seconds.

Paul leaned in, as he scrolled slowly down the page, followed by a quick startled motion. “What in the world,” he said in disbelief. What first appeared to be a run of the mill geometric background was actually an intricate pattern of profane words and lewd drawings. It wasn’t obvious at first, but then hard to unsee. “How long has this been up?” He could hear the nerves in his voice as his fingers began typing again, pulling up the editing software he needed to change the page.

“I noticed it yesterday,” Ms. Jones answered. “I just decided to come and see if you were here.”

Paul’s ears burned but he kept the bulk of his attention on the computer screen, where he quickly replaced the offending file with a solid dark blue. He actually remembered seeing the email but hadn’t opened it. He clicked upload, then went back to scanning the site for anything else that would be a problem.

As he worked, Ms. Jones stepped back around to the other side of the desk. “I’ve already spoken to the boys,” she said, placing the pads of her fingers on the edge of the desk and leaning forward, her voice hard. “And I expect you will speak to the others involved tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Paul answered, his default setting extremely polite as most of his attention went to the computer screen. It seemed unlikely than many people would have visited their little classroom site– in fact he could see that few people had from their statistics page– but the last thing he wanted was to end up as some twitter main character because a group of kids threw up a bunch of curse words and penises on a page linked to the school’s main website.

“There’s nothing else,” Ms. Jones said firmly. Paul looked up at her, face still warm with both nerves and embarrassment. He felt small under her gaze, a feeling strengthened as she spoke further. “The entire thing was sneaky, and bold, and childish,” she said. “But of course, they are children. It’s the sort of thing we can expect children to do. It is also the sort of thing I would have expected you to catch, Mr. Chavin.”

“Please, call me Paul,” he replied weakly, not sure what else to say. She was right, he should have caught it. It wasn’t so cunning that he wouldn’t have noticed it with even the smallest bit of supervision.

“I don’t think this makes the boys, or any of the others, bad students. It certainly doesn’t make them any less clever. But no student does well when they aren’t offered any guidance.”

Paul felt himself shrinking under her stern gaze and wished he had some sort of defense for himself, but he had none. He was a good teacher, but in this instance he had been neglectful.

“You’re lucky there weren’t larger consequences, you could lose your job” Ms. Jones continued, as if reading his mind. “He knew this is the sort of thing that could have gotten out of hand very quickly.”

Again Paul could do nothing but agree. The shock of the many worst case scenarios flashing through his mind almost kept him from being surprised at Ms. Jones’s next move. She reached into her purse and pulled out a red paddle. “I don’t…” he said unsteadily, looking around the classroom, though for what he wasn’t sure. “We don’t…” he began again.

Ms. Jones spoke before he could find an end to his sentence. “I believe in corporal punishment Paul,” she said firmly. I think you’ve more than earned it. Don’t you agree?”

There were several seconds in which her question went unanswered, and then slowly and against all of his instincts, Paul nodded. His hands slipped from the keyboard, and he looked slowly up to make eye contact. He was oddly lifted to see that she was pleased with him.

“I appreciate a young man who understands how to take responsibility,” she said, standing to her full height once again. “Go ahead and pull your chair out from behind the desk, please.”
“Now get your trousers and underpants around your ankles and lie over my lap. You, my boy, are in for a spanking.”

I stood rooted to the spot. at first I couldn’t believe my ears, but her look of impatience hurried me up. I undid my belt and with one motion pulled down both my trousers and underpants. Thankfully Mrs Jones chose not to notice my half-erect penis, instead she just patted her lap. I tottered over and slowly began to lower myself over her. She impatiently grabbed my arm tugging me down firmly. I felt a hand, wonderfully cool to the touch rearrange my penis so that it was lying trapped between her open thighs. I am going to squeeze and tease your penis while I spank your ass, she announced.

“Normally I expect to use just the paddle, but because it is you I think I will use my hand as well,”she said. With that there was the brief coolness of her hand’s absence, and then it landed again with a loud smack and his spanking was suddenly underway. He clenched his jaw against the sounds his body wished to make but he couldn’t stop his toes from pushing against the floor or the sharp eeks the rubber of his shoes made against the tile. He was surprised by how hard her hand was, though he wasn’t sure what he had expected. Nothing about this night was going like it was supposed to. He thought he’d be packing up to go home right now, not belly down across the knee of a parent.

A life of playing tennis had turned this woman into quite a powerful spanker, as my bottom quickly found out. The spanks were hard and fast, covering every area of my bottom. Very soon I was wriggling around, as the pain increased on my bare bum. The same time my wriggling was teasing my penis between her thighs to stay hard.

“Please Mrs Jones! I’m really sorry!”.

“Not quite enough.” Her spanks continued for a little while longer, before finally, thankfully, she stopped. She ran her hands over my bottom for a moment,vsqueezing and rubbing my cheeks, while shifting her thighs and teasing my penis.

I so desperate to please her, to like me again; I couldn’t bear to disappoint her again. I knew the paddle was coming and tried to get ready for it.

Just as the heat was starting to subside, Mrs Jones picked up the red paddle. I looked nervously at the paddle she was holding, as she moved me over to center me, on her lap. I felt the paddle resting on the small of my back and its weight sent a shiver down my spine.

“Now Paul, this is going to really hurt, you take this spanking and everything will be alright.” Her words were soft and reassuring, it felt so right to be over the lap of this wonderful woman.


The pain stunned me. It was incredible, far, far worse than the hand spanking.


I couldn’t take it, it was too much. She paused between each smack to shift her thighs and rub my ass, it was so good.

The last two were the worst of the lot. My bottom throbbed angrily, my penis pulsed btween her thighs. I twitched around, desperate for some signal that it was okay for me to reach up and touch my ass. Then I felt Mrs Jones’s hands caressing my heated buttocks. As the soft strokes began to soothe my burning bottom I finally began to relax. There I remained for several minutes, it felt so wonderful, I didn’t want it to end absorbing her gentler touches and kinder words as she comforted me. Then slowly and a bit unsteadily, I  got to my feet, grabbing for my jeans pulling them up. I met Ms. Jones’s eyes and cast my gaze downward, bashful. “Thank you,” I said quietly.

“Now give me a hug.”she said

I reached over to hug her tightly. She patted me affectionately on the back.

“You’re a very good teacher, Paul,” Ms. Jones said. “I’m sure I would have been up here at the school much earlier otherwise. Everyone slips up from time to time. I am glad we set things right again.”

“You did very well,” she replied, returning the paddle to her purse. Paul picked up his chair and moved it back to its usual home. He stood there for a moment, hands on the seat back, clutching it tightly to prevent himself from rubbing his bottom. She looked up at him and continued, “I feel confident we can take care of any issue, again when needed.”

“Yes ma’am,” he answered politely. I am a widow prehaps you could come for dinner next friday night, she said. I will be happy to, Paul replied.

He walked toward the classroom door and Ms. Jones followed, then exited when he opened the door. “Thank you again,” he said as she stood in the hallway and he meant it. She nodded graciously, see you at 6 on friday and don’t be late. The moment the door closed, Paul’s hands found his bottom. “Yowch,” he sighed happily. I think Ms. Jomes would be happy to give me a spanking at our dinner if I ask, he thought to himself and the empty computer lab.

He gathered himself again, returned to his desk, and began to pack up to go home.