The Stanley Cup

Eight days before the summer solstice, the electric teevee and all the papers are giddy about something called The Stanley Cup. For those of you whose lives have been sufficiently full without knowing what that is, it is a gimcrack given for "hockey," one of the few games in which no one has ever actually seen a goal being scored.

This mistimed irelevancy at least illustrates how badly America has strayed from the Great Cosmic Plan.

God ordained certain seasons, to wit:

June, July, August -- Baseball, with a brief extension permitting the World Series to be played in September.

September, October, November -- Football, again with a special dispensation permitting a contest on New Year's Day which must pit the champion of the Big Ten against some Left Coast pickups.

December, January , and February --  Basketball.

March, April, and May are reserved for sporting romance, the private consummations of which must be neither photographed nor televised. Its public exposure is limited to (a) planning June weddings and (b) bankrupting parents in executing said plans.

Hockey is omitted. It is not an American sport. If Los Angeles insists otherwise it simply verifies the widely held view that it is not an American city.

(If LA  remains intransigent on the subject, a trade can be arranged -- the whole damned city and all of its slurbs for a couple of nice quiet lakes in Northwest Ontario. Plus a draft choice to be announced later.  Perhaps...).

...and here's to a wholesome June

However, if you had it with wholesome, you can always  cry havoc and let something slip.






And then there's Junebug, Travis McGee's disco champion buddy. Wonder what ever happened to her?

So long, May

A TMR bonus factoid: When she married Sammy Davis jr. on November 13, 1960, interracial marriage was illegal in 31 states.

All kinds of porn

Bad trigger procedure here, Mitzi. Rule 3.









But I forgive you because 













This is one of the better of the mid-century studio-glamour shots, so I used it instead of one of Ms. Gaynor as Ensign Nellie Forbush, the role that got a wee lad's attention about the time he started thinking less about Trigger and more about Dale Evans.


And what the heck. As long as I'm pandering to the vile instincts of the gentlemen in the room, here's a sop for the ladies. It is, in part, a fulfillment of an old promise to my buddy Doris.

Hooray. Hooray. The First of Mae

More danged politics

Folks are voting down below the Smith and Wesson line today, and those very clever teevee persons are calling it "Southern Tuesday."  Well, okay.

Good Morning. Let's Welcome a Super Tuesday

From the days when she merely aspired to maidenhood

Offered in compensaton to readers bored with the previous post on dreary politics:

Or, if you like your girls with guns:

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And lest female readers feel slighted, a little light porn from a second perspective  is served. 

Here ya go

This is what happens when the studio makeup dudes get their hands on a woman. Not terrible, of course, but she still looks better in climbing togs with face smudges.

Populating my island

Dorothy would meet my standards of anarcho-capitalist nubility. She was quite a homemaker to boot and could easily whip out a black-and-gold sarong.

Dorothy Sebastion?

Anyway, an armed girl guarding her treasure. Those were the days.                          

Moronic but sexy

Too much politics around here lately, so I rooted around for a  warmup in the internet collection of thinking man's cheesecake. And, lo and behold, found one with both skin and a glimpse of our cultural heritage.

Note the tag line.  It's safe to assume Chill Wills and Gabby Hayes were in the Luxless 10 per cent. 

Speaking of Greek politicians

It is pleasant to look upon the last Greek citizen known  to work a full six-day week.

Another girl with a gun

But at least this one is offered with a serious  political message.

"No. Herm, I don't think we should work in your apartment tonight."

The Keystone Pipeline

I am undertaking a study of the Keystone Pipeline controversy. When you do something like that it is a good idea to examine the basic mindset of the opponents. 

I conclude that pipeline naysayers know that a candle of biodegradable soybean wax is a near-perfect accompaniment to a romantic dinner with Jean Seberg. 

A series of logical steps takes them from there to belief it is also useful for powering Consolidated  Edison's dynamos.

My 9/11 offering

Aloft in a fighter without ammo, Lt. Penney was quite prepared  to  launch a kamakazi strike against UAL 93.

(A wide departure from the traditional  Women With Clothes On offerings, but (a) she is attractive and (b) I think the photo suggests a nobility lacking in the shot just posted of  our Narcissist-in-Chief.


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(Credit National Airway Race Shows via http://news.yahoo.com/fighter-pilot-recalls-mission-stop-9-11-plane-230127999.html)

Here is a picture of a bicycle

A 

The Magnificent Seven

Some very alluring ankles here.

I can't find enough resolution to say much about the rifles.  They look Mauser-y. The knockout on the  second from left bears one with a finger-grooved stock.  Third from left, a lady sports a chic fabric forearm  accessory.

EDIT: Pardner JohnW found a much better repro. 

Back to beautiful basics

Sometimes I get tired trying to make sense of the  government loonies. So back to basics, to the TMR I intended -- libertarian thought as revealed to the perceptive mind through exploring guns, dogs, and women who manage allure even with privacies decently covered.

Lessee, there are bad girls...




Cute Luddite  girls...



And girls with dogs and guns.

Be still my beating heart.

You pick your rapture, I'll pick mine