Adaptive Curmudgeon

In case you’re sane, and therefore don’t obsess over strange Canadian amphibious ATV-like conveyances, you’ve probably never heard of an Argo. My words scarcely do justice to these weird, ugly, awesome, funky, expensive, crude, critters. Here are a few photos I found randomly scattered about the ‘net.

1. This is what the base mode, no frills, version looks like. Except they’re usually a shitty olive drab color. You’ll drop ten bills on one faster than you can say “why doesn’t it have a winch?” (Note: I only pay attention to 6×6 Argos. Most are 8×8, which is definitely cooler but completely out of my league.)
2. This is the same basic machine with proper outfitting and spiffy but unnecessary camo. They will rake you over the coals for this option set! Such minor details as a proper seat-back and a winch launch the price upwards mercilessly. That said, it definitely changes the appearance from “mechanized beer cooler” to “tricked out epic exploratory craft”. Also, I travel solo and me owning anything without a winch is just asking for trouble. Still no ROPS.
3. Here’s an older base model with tracks. Adding tracks to an Argo is much easier than adding them to an ATV. It’ll set you back maybe a couple grand, which is a fraction of the cost of tracks on an ATV. Installation is fairly easy and removal is equally easy. Tracks on an ATV, as awesome as they are, make me nervous. They have more moving parts than the Space Shuttle and are chock full of expensive delicate shit that will break when your ass is in the hinterland. Argo tracks are just as dumb and logical as you see here. I didn’t get to test it but they’re said to float over snow like a slow unstoppable snowmobile. Big selling point there. If you know (on day one) that you’ve got need for and funds to buy tracks… you might be well advised to start with an Argo. It might be cheaper than throwing money at an ATV which just wasn’t meant for tracks at its inception.
4. A random shot of an Argo’s engine compartment. The engine is exactly unlike any normal ATV. That said, I see now they don’t really need any more power.
5. Yes they are amphibious. Like drive it in a damn lake level amphibious! I tested it and it’s fuckin’ amazing! That said, the folks in this photo have got to be actors. No real humans have ever been dressed this identically for an actual outing in mud and water. Also, a helmet might be legally required or keep your noggin warm but I doubt you’ll ever go fast enough in an Argo to need impact resistance. YMMV but these things aren’t speedy roll over risks like an ATV.

[Warning: Argos are weird machines that attract loons like me and inspire fierce loyalty among their owners. I risk their ire. I set out to test one in my own whackdoodle manner, for fun. In our modern era, people form up in teams and if I bitch about anything from Pepsi to the Pope it’s likely to make people of that particular team lose their shit. If you love Argos so much you can’t take a joke, wisely go somewhere else before you get all bent up about an irrelevant blogger. Or at least read all the way to the end of the story before getting all emotive in the comments. I aim to make people laugh, not convert them to a religion or sell them a machine. As always, I’m just me and my opinion should matter to nobody.]

At the dealership I strode through the door like a man who’s got a plan. “I’d like to see your cheapest, smallest Argo.”

The salesdrone was like “Really?”

[Note: Their stock was about 60% side by sides (a.k.a. UTVs), 20% ATVs, 19.9% Snowmobiles, and 0.000001% Argo. Later the salesdrone confided that Argo buyers are an odd market. (Probably explains my attraction to them.) The dealership will move a zillion ATVs and UTVs but go months without anyone so much as glancing at an Argo. Then (apparently randomly) someone will storm in with no warning, drop an assload on a fully kitted out machine without blanching at the huge price, and vanish with it; never to be seen again. His reaction was something like “No shit, today’s the day one of those people came out of the woodwork? Neat!”]

One of the strange things about modern society is that I, a complete stranger, can hold out my hand and say “hand over the keys to an expensive delicate object so that I may abuse it mercilessly” and they comply. Does anyone else think that’s nuts?

In less than five minutes we were out in the freezing cold, sorting keys. I ignored 8 x 8 behemoths on the grounds that I’m not even going to test drive something that costs more than my truck. Also, in certain locations a 6 x 6 is “legally” a UTV while an 8 x 8 “legally” doesn’t exist. YMMV, but I don’t need to hypothetically fret over any hypothetical bullshit trying to hypothetically register an imagined purchase.

BTW: This post isn’t meant to be a technical product review so I didn’t obsess about the details. I think it was a 2019 Frontier 700 with the air cooled 23 HP and the old-style steering… but again, if you’re going to drop that kind of scratch, for God’s sake do proper due diligence. Don’t take advice from a dipshit like me.

I really wanted to hate it. If it sucked, I’d shake off my obsession with Argos and carry on my cheapskate lifestyle in happy, smug, complacency. (I also thought if it blew my socks off, I’d have to shift from “obsessed” mode to “saving money for an inevitable purchase” mode.)

At first, the Argo did everything it could to turn me off.

There is absolutely no way to sugar coat it, the fit and finish of an Argo is repulsive. Our world has alloys, carbon fiber, sexy paint jobs, groovy electronics, and all sorts of material sciences. Yet an Argo looks like a factory in 1970 took a shit in the parking lot. It’s ugly to start with (for obvious design reasons) but the color and surface feel is like an infant just puked strained peas into a plastic injection molding press. The bench seat looks like someone stapled upholstery to a plank. The rollover protection system is nonexistent. The engine is an air-cooled upright block that looks like it came from a lawnmower. In fact, the engine compartment of an Argo looks like someone bought a generic engine from Northern Tool, bolted it into a small chest freezer, and put a grill on the side to vent air.

I’m not done yet! I was aware the “tub” was basically a big green plastic (!?!) boat… but the interior’s plastic (!?!) was nasty. Much worse than I expected. There are certain kinds of plastic that don’t like to be in a straight line… it tends to warp. The firewall between the engine and the driver was warped and ugly and only pinned in place with little thumbscrews that weren’t doing the job. Three bucks for stainless steel wingbolts at any hardware store would be a world-shattering improvement in appearance (if not function). The floorboard under the driver’s feet was similar material; just a squarish warped cake pan shaped abomination.

On the one hand, I get this. Crude means less shit to break and easy to fix when you break it. However, the cheap plastic cake pan had done nothing but accumulate water which had frozen solid into a 4-inch-thick block of ice. For an aquatic/winter enabled vehicle this seemed unforgivably dumb. Like putting a bucket in a snowdrift and then wondering why your bucket is now an ice cube.

I tried to toss the ice out but I couldn’t get a good grip. For the entirety of my test drive my feet were sliding around on thick ice! (In case you’re wondering, it was cold.) The salesdrone explained that lots of people just use a powerdrill to punch a hole in the cake pan. Then the water could run into the tub’s bottom and hopefully out the drain plugs (and not freezing the chains into a block). I inspected the drain plugs. More shitty looking materials. I assume they work but they looked like something you’d get from the toy isle in Dollar General. The cargo area had its own cake pan and it too was filled with a block of ice. In this case the warp was so large that I could get my fingers around it and heft it out. I dumped the huge chunk of ice on the pavement and put the cake pan back. It didn’t fit snugly. Where I expected a Tupperwear fit I got a half inch of play.

One thing I did note was the plastic (or whatever it was) was very thick. It seemed like 3/16” or more. Nor did it seem brittle in the cold. Just ugly, filled with ice, loosely fitting, and warped.

Is much as I was appalled by cheap, ill fitting, plastic shit I did like the crude design. With the cake pan removed you can see the drivetrain both left and right. In case you didn’t know, the drivetrain of an Argo is a big ass chain. One chain on the left. One chain on the right. Sprockets for each of the six tires. You could access this stuff to service it practically while driving it. It looked like the kind of machine you could service with a hammer and if you really wanted you could probably hit it with a rock.

It doesn’t reflect poorly on the machine, but the battery was dead. It didn’t start. While fiddling with it, the salesdrone flipped up the bench seat. I liked the storage underneath but it reminded me the bench seat was not much more advanced than a picnic table.

He hooked up a jumper and soon the little beast coughed to life. I have PTSD over all the dead lawnmowers that I’ve had to restart and this was basically the same affair.

Lamely, the gas tank is pretty much the same white plastic box that you’ll find in any riding lawnmower but as a ferocious counterpoint it was huge. That’s an impressive feature… a big fat box basically the entire width of the seat probably carried a few days’ worth of riding fuel; maybe more. Eat your heart out modern ATVs!

Warming up amid a glorious array of ATVs, the little “lawnmower like” engine just seemed sad. However, when I rode it, the beast had all the juice it needs. In fact, a hyped-up, turbocharged, fuel injected wonder motor would just be more shit to break. The slow and simple Argo just doesn’t need that kind of power. The Argo company very wisely installed enough engine to get the job done and no more.

Also, it ‘aint quiet but it’s not loud either. Compared to some of the hot-rodded ATVs and many snowmobiles which can shriek like a banshee… it’s pretty much a low rumble. I’d love to see them capitalize on this. They could make it uber quiet and that would be awesome. That said, the fit and finish of soundproofing or an elaborate muffler is worlds away from this farm implement of a vehicle.

Once it was started, the sales drone fled. He was freezing in the cold. He waved vaguely in a random direction and gave me virtually no advice on how to find the ATV trail or where to go.

Stay tuned… it’s just getting interesting.

It was a dark and stormy night…

Okay, it wasn’t dark and it wasn’t stormy and it wasn’t night but my attitude was plenty gloomy. As if mother nature was giving me the finger, it was bright out. It was bitter cold but everything had the crystalline sharpness that only the clearest air of a winter noon can produce. It was far too beautiful to match a mood more appropriate for skulking around a fogbank. I was disappointed and handling it with a childish temper rather than stoic wisdom. I’d made plans to play outdoors. They’d been crushed. Crushed, stomped, bent, folded, and spindled.

I wanted to take my long neglected and archaic ATV for a second trail ride before winter hit. Absolutely fucking everything had gone wrong and my plan for a little harmless fun was more than the universe would allow. A tsunami of bullshit ate my time until I gave up all hope. If there’s to be a trail ride it’ll be in 2020.

Then, because life is like that, I had to put my shoulder to the yoke. I began a work trip that I’d been dreading. We all have work tasks we like and work tasks we hate. I was about to deal with the latter. This made forgoing my fun plans sting deeply.

Usually the road cheers me up, but not this time. Mile after mile my attitude sunk; from dour, to grim, to grumpy, until I was so insufferable that I could pass for a climate change activist. This would not do. If there’s to be pathetic whining in my truck it will come from America’s Pravda (National Public Radio) but not me, the captain of my own wheeled ship. Was I not a man of action? Wasn’t it unbecoming to travel with a black cloud over my soul?

I decided to do something to distract myself. What that would be, I had no idea. The universe would provide (spoiler alert, it did).

It’s important for the story to know the setting, I was on a rural road (divided two lanes). The terrain was a flat mixture of forest and farm that was gradually building in population density. My definition of “city” is “it’s large enough to have a Walmart”. I was leaving my comfort zone. Soon, I’d be traveling through the dreaded specter of suburbs, and subsequently into the heart of darkness that is urban. “Large enough to have a Walmart” is a punchline in such locales and impending urbanity contributed to my malaise. I needed to get my head out of my ass before I got to my destination and started annoying innocent victims.

I don’t know the specifics of the ecosystem of regulations that bound ATV trails, snowmobile trails, bicycle trails, etc. However, I do know there are certain places where ATVs and snowmobiles are legally allowed to cruise down the “ditch” adjacent to non-interstate highways. Judging from ATV shaped ruts, this was such a place. Later, as fields gave way to buildings, I noticed a “trail” parallel to the road. This was the kind of “trail” that makes me shake my head and wonder how I could possibly live in such a rich and yet pointless society. The fucking “trail” was paved! Whether it was for ATVs or spandex clad yahoos on bicycles, it was built with apparently no concern for expense. It reeked of grant money and collective expense for individual entertainment. Mile after mile it shadowed me. Perfectly graded and freshly paved; less a trail than a long narrow runway. I began grumbling stuff like “shovel ready debt” and “what kind of ass needs pavement for an ATV?”

I finally caught view of some signs at a trailhead. I swooped in and checked it out long enough to piss on a tree stump. The “trail” had a name (which I’m not divulging for anonymities’ sake); let’s call it “Grantmoney Trail”. It was for ATVs, which bothered me more than it should. ATVs are supposed to be vehicles for “all-terrain” yet this was nicer than highways in some whole nations. With time, as regular vehicles approach spaceships in complexity and cost, “trail machines” drift closer to “family car”. Adventure fades as we build shadow road networks to supplant the idea of “outdoor adventure” with “slightly more exciting than a minivan”. (I realize this is a bit hypocritical as I want to try cruising on these very trail systems sometime, so please forgice me. Grumpy people gotta’ grump and I was in a terrible snit.) This paved situation followed me for 10 miles.

Then, like a ray of sunshine from the sky, I figured out how I would change my mood. Somewhere along this highway (I couldn’t remember exactly where) there was an ATV dealership. Not just any dealership, but a big ass marketing juggernaut sufficient to tie half the county into payment plans. Make no mistake about it, modern ATVs are big business and they cost numbers I still associate with a good used car. I may be a cheapskate but the market for them is huge. I would be driving past a neon lit center of commerce where these things are adopted by their new owners! Time to explore the belly of the beast. I would stop and play with their expensive toys!

I love me some machinery, but usually avoid such places. I’m exactly the wrong kind of human being to window shop. I’ll tire kick machines but rarely buy anything but the cheapest crappiest used junk. I’m allergic to payment plans. I break out in hives at the thought of loans. My body has an involuntary immune system reaction to the presence of salesmen. To sum it up, I’m a cheap bastard with the unfortunate side effect that I don’t often get to poke and prod at the newest and most interesting wheeled gadgets.

I formulated a plan. This very day was proof that no amount of money would have given me a trail ride. After all, I own an ATV (if very old one). Was I riding it for fun? No! Instead I was hauling my ass to a place I didn’t want to be. When I got there, I’d do things I didn’t feel like doing. My fate was sealed. The shiniest, spiffiest, hottest ATV on the lot wouldn’t do Jack shit to change it. This is the mindset when you’re least susceptible to pinstripes and promises of the shiny new toys. The siren song of installment loans was weak on that day. What better opportunity to explore and then leave with my credit rating intact?

Furthermore, I have been obsessed of late with Argos. It was time to nip that in the bud. An Argo is a strange (and expensive) ATV like machine I’ve never had the chance to drive. They’re rare but I knew this dealer had a few. The only cure to my Argo obsession was to test drive one and the best time to do it was when I was well aware that buying shit isn’t the same as having the time to enjoy it.

It was a brilliant plan.

Stay tuned…

I often schedule a post to go live on autopilot while I’m off gallivanting about. I had “Babylon Bee Covers The Story” set to go live a few days ago. I’ve been offline a bit and it simply didn’t go live on schedule. Oddly, this indicates how reliable WordPress has been… shit like this just doesn’t happen often.

Oh well, it’s live now and I’ll allow the software a mulligan on this one. I’m going off line again but don’t hesitate to comment. I’ll approve it through moderation when I’m back and it probably will only be a few days.

Stay warm and enjoy the Christmas season y’all.

A.C.

[Note: I wrote this post shortly after a tragedy. The press (as is their wont) went into rut, dry humping everything in site about gun control. I decided to leave this post in cold storage lest it inflame passions in the immediacy of the moment. Now, months later, I am in haste to publish it before the next black swan event. The press is desperate to further their narrative in the wake of their pathetically failed effort called Impeachment Part II: This Time We’ve Got Him. I hope to squeeze it in now, before they find another reason to go berserk.]

I’ve been off grid. Meanwhile, the media has been shoving stupid right up the zeitgeist of whomever hasn’t got something better to do. Those poor bastards!

Recently, a shithead shot some people. I was alerted to the sad event when someone (a person I deeply respect) told me about it. Then he launched the pre-programmed political attack that always lies in wait. I personally should have less freedom because an asshole who is not me shot people.

I pointed out this bullshit can’t be pinned on me. Also, murder is super illegal and evil has been around forever. He’d already skipped a groove and now was assigning blame to Trump. That’s a relief because five minutes earlier it was me and “people like me”.

Phrases such as “the problem is people like you” are dangerous. That kind of thinking gets out of hand. It’s best to stick with phrases like “nice weather we’re having”. Certainly nobody in the conversation (including me) was a mass killer. Also, “people like me” could mean a lot of things (though I doubt he was worried about blogging bearded boat builders).

To mollify him, I said that I’ve no guns left. The tragic canoe accident rendered me helpless as a puppy. Unfortunately, I foolishly engaged. I own a woodchipper. In light of the movie Fargo, should we have common sense woodchipper control?

This caused another round of “mass shootings (and all miseries anywhere) are caused by Trump”. I offered an alternate explanation; life sucks and sometimes bad things happen.

He complained I wasn’t taking his concerns seriously. So, with seriousness, I said free will was the issue. It’s a conundrum of sentience for which there is no solution. Evil and good reside in the heart of man. No rules can force an angel from the raw material of human.

He seemed surprised I refused to blame myself (or people like me) for this (or any) murder. I kindly mentioned I wasn’t blaming him for mass murders. Perhaps he could extend the same courtesy?

No luck. He was already going off on how “this never happened before”. I hate that one. This magic Utopian moment of peace is… when? Before Trump was elected? Before FOX ate CNN’s breakfast? During the Cold War? Before breech loading small arms?

There’s no time when mass murders didn’t happen. Often (but not always) they were group affairs; under the banner of a king, at the behest of a chieftain, delivered by pirates, inflicted by gangs, or possibly just because Medieval nobles wanted to fuck with the neighboring Duke by burning one of his peasant villages to the ground. But in 2019, the real answer is “bad shit seemingly didn’t happen before I spent all this time marinating in media about bad shit”.

“Before time” is an insidious bit of propaganda. Compare imperfect reality to an imagined Utopia and you’ll feel screwed; which is a feature not a bug. Media inserts into otherwise sane minds the notion that we can return to a before time that’s super awesome. The real past had tuberculosis, constant war, and mass homicide. Lots of it! The other side of the coin is the socialist’s favorite; the magic future. As soon as they control everything, free shit will come to us all, an endless supply of healthcare will make us fit, and the toilets will never clog. The real future isn’t Utopia. In the real future shit costs money, cancer kills, and toilets clog.

Propaganda requires nobody compare events to realistic situations. Reality is complex; with pros and cons to everything. Propaganda ignores 5000 years of history. It means you can hear about murderers in 2019 and think “this never happened before”.

He reluctantly conceded that humans have been killing humans for a long time but I couldn’t convince him 2019 is relatively safe. He was chatting on the phone while watching TV in air conditioning. He’s never fired a gun or been fired at by one. He’s never gone hungry. Huns have not stormed across his yard. The neighboring villagers won’t set fire to his garage. Is that not proof his world is relatively peaceful? A lifetime without one punch to the head and he pines for what… a time before mass murder? Anyone from Genghis Khan to Jack The Ripper to Al Capone to Charles Manson to Jim Jones has killed en masse. They’ve killed with everything; horses, knives, Tommy Guns, more knives, and even kool aid. Every victim was a tragedy. The Utopia trap: imagine a world without murder and then bitch because it’s not real. Is a tragedy only important if it’s on CNN?

This last part slowed him… but only a little.

I’d made a mistake mentioning morality as timeless. CNN teaches all morality is new and intertwined with politics and about making sure those deplorables in flyover country obey. Almost like a nervous twitch, he hit repeat on his internal audio drive and it started again. (That’s a bad sign. If you’ve got an opinion but involuntarily repeat the same phrases when encountering contradictory views; rethink your premises.)

The third time he argued I should have less freedom because someone else couldn’t handle it, I tried a different approach: the “walk in my shoes” argument. Since he says it’s my fault and I bear responsibility maybe it’s his fault and he bears responsibility too? This got his attention. (CNN never suggests CNN viewers are responsible for bad events. It’s necessarily other people that are bad. CNN viewers are inherently awesome and need never change anything. They’re saintly. Only others must be… “corrected”.)

I continued, his sacrifice would atone for his incorrigible ways. He should start right today! There’d been a mass murder and he should start with admission of his own guilt (certainly he was as guilty of mass murder as me). Once he’d accepted his fallen state, he should welcome penance and hope for redemption. Not redemption for his behavior, of course, but for the behavior of the mass murderer. (Hadn’t he demanded the same of me?)

I like guns so when someone killed people he said I need to get rid of my guns. Lets put that shoe on his feet. When someone killed people it’s a mental health issue. When was the last time he went to a therapist?  Why not? Isn’t he aware of the serious mental health situation in America today? He should personally and immediately address this public health epidemic. If guns locked in my safe caused murder a thousand miles away his failure to attend therapy caused a mental breakdown a thousand miles away.

Also, “people like him” just weren’t trying hard enough to make it right. Perhaps a sizable donation to the victims? A big donation. It should be as big an adjustment to him as me forgoing my guns… thousands at least. Cut a check until it hurts.

This bummed him out. Propaganda needs hooks to work. One is to believe you’re superior. I poked a hole in that. I just said we’re equally responsible for mass murder. Ouch! That trips up the next step which is catching a free ride to salvation while others are forced to obey. (Never consider the reverse.) I suggested things he needed to do right away. Sitting on the couch watching TV wasn’t one of my recommendations.  CNN’s effect works best when the “correct” lifestyle is exactly how you’re already living.

I can see how it happens too. Such an attractive notion it must be. You’re already living “right” so there’s no need for self-improvement. Who doesn’t want to believe they’ve got it made? It’s addictive and I mean that in the true sense of “addictive”.

There was a bit of cognitive dissonance but not much. The fourth repeat was coming up so I excused myself. I had to oil my woodsplitter. (That’s not a euphemism. Get your head out of the gutter!)

Just for the record I don’t want comments that trash this guy. I respect him and I’m not making light of his situation. Nor did I want to blog disrespectfully. Propaganda really works. Propaganda works on everyone. It works even if you know it’s propaganda.

Also, it sucks. CNN doesn’t make him happy. It makes him pissed off. It searches the world to finds things that will annoy him. It dangles these things on the screen saying “doesn’t this suck, aren’t you angry?” It angers him, because it was intended to.

Y’all have someone like that in your world too. Or maybe you’re walking that path yourself. Good luck. Turn off the TV and go fishing. As for the guy I respect, I’ll always be there for him. I’ll welcome him back if he courageously breaks the spell. I can take a quarterly bitching out from a CNN Meat TIVO as I pray for his recovery. But that is all I can do. You can’t free people from a cage in their mind.

As usual, the Babylon Bee explains the whole thing. (Click link for the whole thing.)

Study Shows Leading Cause Of Gun Violence Is Those You Disagree With Politically:

An exhaustive new study from the CDC reveals that the leading cause of gun violence in America is your political opponents. Researchers looked at a number of potential causes of gun violence such as mental health, family situation, cultural shifts, gun laws, rap music, videogames, sugar consumption, and the actual gunman, but by and large, the most prominent cause of gun violence was what most already suspected. The fault lies with those who you disagree with politically.

Shampeachment II: The Trumpening continues and Trump seems to be surfing it like a boss. I have a bit of sympathy for the devil here. (I’m talking only about Nancy Pelosi as the devil.) I’m sure Pelosi knew impeachment was a bad move.

She got dragged into it by fools who’ve got the political instincts of a nematode. I have socks with more life experience than a few of them. Pelosi reminds me sometimes of Malory Archer. She must look at “The Squad” and think “I work with idiots”.

I wimped on a bet that Trump wouldn’t cross 55% in the Rasmussen poll by 12/31/19. He’s at 51% right now and I chickened out when he was at 52% (on the day they announced House Impeachment proceedings.)

So… the reason I joined a prediction market is to detect bullshit. How’s the whole thing look in the long term? The press tells us that Trump is a disgusting irredeemably deplorable shithead. It also tells us that Obama was descended from heaven to grace our populace.

Is the press reporting what’s true out there or are they reporting out of their own heads (a.k.a. bullshit)? Lucky for me, I have data.  I can find Obama’s Rasmussen rating from 2008-2016. To remove seasonal variation I looked only at December 6 values and only for “total approval”. It’s all here. (In 2015 the 6th fell on a weekend so I used December 7th.)

Obama’s poll numbers:

• 2008 67%*
• 2009 47%
• 2010 47%
• 2011 45%
• 2012 54%
• 2013 42%
• 2014 46%
• 2015 45%
• 2016 55%

I can get the same data for Trump. It’s all here.

• 2017 42%
• 2018 49%
• 2019 51%

What’s the average rating for December 6th?

• Obama, whom the press covered as the greatest human on earth: Average = 49.7%
• Trump, whom the press reports as less popular than Ebola: Average = 47.3%

If you turned on any news outlet in any market for any period of time, would you derive the fact that Trump’s long term average is only 2.5% less than Obama? Would you derive that Trump’s rating today beats Obama’s same year rating for 6 of 9 years?

Fake news is a thing y’all.

A.C.

* Note: did you notice that Obama’s presidential rating was 67% on December 6, 2008… a day when he wasn’t actually president? Don’t ask me how that works out. I didn’t reject it out of hand because I didn’t want any kool-aid drinkers bitching that I “hand picked” the numbers. If you compare only those years when the individual was actually in office Obama’s average drops to 47.6%.

• Obama’s “total approval rating” while in office: Average 47.6%
• Trump’s “total approval rating” while in office: Average 47.3%

That right there folks tells you the press is reporting things that the American people aren’t. The two diametrically opposed presidents yield essentially statistically identical results.

Breaking report… a sure bet looks hazy now!

Here’s a summary of recent political events:

“I’ve got you this time, Brer Rabbit,” said Brer Fox, jumping up and shaking off the dust. “You’ve sassed me for the very last time. Now I wonder what I should do with you?”

Brer Rabbit’s eyes got very large. “Oh please Brer Fox, whatever you do, please don’t throw me into the briar patch.”

“Maybe I should roast you over a fire and eat you,” mused Brer Fox. “No, that’s too much trouble. Maybe I’ll hang you instead.”

“Roast me! Hang me! Do whatever you please,” said Brer Rabbit. “Only please, Brer Fox, please don’t throw me into the briar patch.”

“If I’m going to hang you, I’ll need some string,” said Brer Fox. “And I don’t have any string handy. But the stream’s not far away, so maybe I’ll drown you instead.”

“Drown me! Roast me! Hang me! Do whatever you please,” said Brer Rabbit. “Only please, Brer Fox, please don’t throw me into the briar patch.”

“The briar patch, eh?” said Brer Fox. “What a wonderful idea! You’ll be torn into little pieces!”

Grabbing up the tar-covered rabbit, Brer Fox swung him around and around and then flung him head over heels into the briar patch. Brer Rabbit let out such a scream as he fell that all of Brer Fox’s fur stood straight up. Brer Rabbit fell into the briar bushes with a crash and a mighty thump. Then there was silence.

Brer Fox cocked one ear toward the briar patch, listening for whimpers of pain. But he heard nothing. Brer Fox cocked the other ear toward the briar patch, listening for Brer Rabbit’s death rattle. He heard nothing.

Then Brer Fox heard someone calling his name. He turned around and looked up the hill. Brer Rabbit was sitting on a log combing the tar out of his fur with a wood chip and looking smug.

“I was bred and born in the briar patch, Brer Fox,” he called. “Born and bred in the briar patch.”

And Brer Rabbit skipped away as merry as a cricket while Brer Fox ground his teeth in rage and went home.

That’s the best summary one could ever ask for. You heard it here first, Trump was born and bred in the briar patch and everything else is fake news.

Back on topic… about a month ago I wrote:

I bet NO on “Donald Trump’s job approval rate on one or more days on or before December 31, 2019, shall be 55% or higher … blah, blah, blah … Rasmussen Daily Presidential Tracking Poll”.

[It was posted live only yesterday but written a month ago.] At the time of writing, the press was going full retard over Shampeachment Part II: Throw Orange Man Into The Briar Patch. It was just launching. Trump’s numbers were about where they normally are but everyone everywhere predicted them to drop precipitously. I doubted they’d drop much but they certainly weren’t going to go up. All I had to do was sit back and wait! With only 6 weeks left in the year, Houdini himself couldn’t slip that trap and come out strong enough to break 55%.

I wrote:

“I bet against Trump breaking 55% and bought in at $0.85. Now it’s trading at $0.96 (this post is written during the second impeachment panic but published later). I should cash out now instead of waiting for the last $0.04 but I’m not sure. It’s a first world problem. Do I grab 13% profit because people just voted about the impeachment that will never happen, or hold 2 months for 18% maximum?”

Logic was on my side… the entirety of the DC swamp, including Nancy Pelosi’s flying monkeys and every “bubble headed bleached blonde who comes on at five” were out to get him. Even Trump, master of the arts of being human Teflon, couldn’t emerge unscathed. (Important note on that link below.)

I was wrong. Yesterday this hit the wires; Trump’s Approval Jumps to 52% Same Day Pelosi Announces Impeachment Will Proceed:

“[t]he same day House Speaker Rep. Nancy Pelosi (D-Calif.) announced Democrats will proceed with articles of impeachment against President Donald Trump – the president’s approval jumped to 52%, its highest level in more than two months.”

He’s three points out and gaining. How the fuck is he gaining?

That magnificent bastard is winning so hard that he might slip the noose on my easy negative bet.

It’s impressive. He might traipse through the kill zone with guns are blazing at him only to come out stronger. I stand to lose $0.85 dammit.

[Update: I bailed out on my ONE share at a minor profit. I gained gain less than I’d have if I’d cased out at the beginning of Shampeachment II but I still came out with a profit. I lost the opportunity for a wee bit more profit but I locked out any chance of a loss. I can no longer rule out the possibility that Trump’s opponents are so galactically inept as to cost me the whole enchilada. Remember, if he gains 3% by New Year’s Eve my $0.85 investment drops to zero. The Curmudgeon didn’t lose but I chickened out in the final stretch. Never bet against Trump!]

You know what they say about playing poker: “If you don’t know who the patsy is, it’s you”. Whether Trump’s playing 5D Chess on Congress or the Dems are so bad as to propel a clueless goofball over 55% is irrelevant. 52% is too close to 55% and I’m out.

A.C.

P.S. Don Henley and the Eagles made the best “Fake News Sux” song in creation. Back in 1982 they cranked out “Dirty Laundry”. (You think shitty biased news is a new thing?) What’s new information is that the entirety of the web has been scrubbed of every good version of that awesome song. All that remains is a shitty 2015 “tribute” recording that’s the lame ass lite beer of rock music. Gross! The fact that You-Tube and Google hid or removed every bit of a 37 year old song that mocks the press… that’s what you call “a clue”.

[Background: I have a pittance in a prediction market as a stand against insanity. This is an analysis I wrote this about a month ago. If it seems dated because we’ve since contacted intelligent interstellar life and/or impeached Trump for the crime of being insufficiently woke, that’s why it’s dated. I’m betting nothing has changed to the fundamentals. Was I right?]

I bet against Trump on the economy. I blew it and am losing:

I bet YES on “recession in Trump’s First Term“. It’s important to note that recession means “two consecutive quarters with a negative annual growth rate in real gross domestic product”. It doesn’t mean “Orange Man bad”, “the press is shrieking like a little bitch”, or “Paul Krugman feels sad”.

Regardless, I didn’t think anyone (including Trump and/or Magic Elves) could keep our red hot economy cranking 16 quarters. I’m not the only one:

“He just says, ‘Well, I’m going to negotiate a better deal.’ Well, what, how exactly are you going to negotiate that? What magic wand do you have?”

Barack Obama, June 1, 2016

Barack and I both agreed on the limitations of undoing Barack’s mess. We were both wrong. I expected Trump’s fiscal policies would slowly improve the nation’s situation with fits and starts. Instead free enterprise did its thing and the economy launched like a rocket. In this matter I’m happy to be wrong. It’s good to live in a rich society! Trump didn’t have a magic wand, he had a magic sledge hammer!

I figured a black swan event would wreck the party but time is short and it’s looking like I bet wrong. Trump may soon do what I thought was mathematically impossible.

I have one last hope. The opposition party always bitches about the misery of living under the current regime regardless of which party is in power. The opposition (D) will be doing all they can to crater the economy or any news of it. They’ve pretty much given up on all rationality or comity so they might succeed.

It’s like your crazy uncle who smashes your car to prove that cars can be smashed and thus you should let him borrow your car. It makes no sense but you still have to deal with the dented fender. The D party may, in desperation, create a self-fulfilling prophesy… and that’s why I’m not bailing out and locking in my losses. Yet.

Bet Against Biden? I did and don’t regret it. It’s a small loss so far.

For “2020 Democratic presidential nomination” I bet NO on Joe Biden. This has nothing to do with Biden’s himself and everything to do with the current era’s madness.

Biden sucks but that’s nothing new. The real story is that the party of D has done nothing but piss and moan about “intersectionality” for decades. The only thing they care about is how black your gay vagina happens to be. The only thing that could beat Hillary’s vagina in 2008 was Obama’s blackness. The only thing that could beat Hillary’s vagina in 2016 was Hillary herself. (Trump’s main electable skill in 2016 was to not be Hillary Clinton, which he’s done very well.)

With 2020 on the horizon, the opposition races to pick the weirdest weirdo that weirds the weirdness. Biden’s a creepy old geezer but, unless he’s got a sex dungeon we don’t know about, he’s still a generic white male. The dems could have a candidate with the mind of Albert Einstein, the body of Fabio Lanzoni, and the soul of Mother Theresa but they’d kick this awesome option to the curb if it was a straight white male. They’ll crawl through glass in a long circuitous route around Biden or anyone white and male to elect a black female gay oppressed affirmative action sociology experiment.

This goes a long way toward explaining Pete Buttigieg. He’s a white, male, Christian, Navy Reservist. Such a man would be tarred and feathered by the Kool aid drinkers under normal circumstances. However, he likes to stick his dick in all the right places. That’s why they cut him slack. Biden is doomed. Unless he comes out gay or converts to Islam while becoming a vegan yoga master he won’t make it. That’s how weird the world is right now.

I bought Biden NO at $0.79 and today it’s $0.78. I’m not nervous.

Biden’s “I’m just an average Joe” shtick will fail miserably; which I’ll enjoy. (Note: did you know Biden was first elected at age 29? Who elects a 29 year old for anything? Here’s another fun game, Biden was a Senator for 36 consecutive years, name his state. I bet ya’ can’t.)

Speaking of intersectionality: My female SCOTUS a bet is tanking:

In a sane world, when you need a new judge it’d be a 45% chance the candidate has a vagina, a 45% chance it has a dick, and a 10% chance it claims to be Lrrr of the planet Omicron Persei 8. In a sane world nobody cares about the judiciary’s genitalia. That world is long gone.

I bet at $0.52 for “the next individual nominated by President Trump to the United States Supreme Court before he leaves office shall be a woman”. I based this on the inexplicable modern madness where we try to replace a woman with a woman on the supreme court because that’s somehow not sexist. Also there was my misunderstanding that Ginsberg was mortal. The first is stupid and the second is unclear.

It’s dropped to $0.35 which means I’m blowing it. Ginsberg has already cheated death long enough for her possible demise to get wrapped up in the 2020 election and I hate being in this market.

Incidentally, I don’t like how Ginsberg’s judicial activism is a powder keg. In a well managed Republic, the highest judiciary would be musty losers that read books in isolation. Our SCOTUS has been misused as “the way to get things you can’t legislate into law”. This means every time we have to replace a judge the populace goes apeshit. From Bork becoming a verb to going through Kavanaugh’s high school year book, SCOTUS confirmations are distorted by a vacant congress dumping work on the shoulders of nine people. If Ginsberg croaks between now and January 19, 2021 everyone is going to lose their goddamn minds. I wish she’d never created the mess that surrounds her… but then again I hope to someday retire and go fishing. I didn’t make the mess or chain myself to it. When she dies the world will turn red for a month or so. I suggest building a bunker and sitting in it with a good book.

There you have it. Some wins, some losses. The press has gone apeshit all summer but my bets are all riding the slow tide of rationality. As always, don’t take financial advice from bloggers… but you already knew that.

A.C.