Something to look forward then, eh? Misfortune cookies like this, read aloud with an Irish accent contain SUCH subtle menace .

Well now, that’s the Gáe Bolga thirst for English blood quenched for a while. Back up into the thatch with ye.

That's for the croke park massacre ye cunts!

Alien ship lands on White House lawn. That doddering orange cunt is now the focus of galactic attention as the first alien emerges from the craft. Camera zooms in on our new neighbour and a mic is produced. A slender gray talon taps it gently. “ We want ALL of the Epstein files, bitch!”

Feens and Beours and everyone in between. Lyons is a distant third place. I’m not even sorry about it.

Bloodshed is red. Cyanosis is blue. Get that gear up, bitch! Or it’s curtains for you.

D’office view is something else today.

NOTAMs don’t apply to me. Nor any other pilot that isn’t an ‘airman’. Anyone fancy a wee to spin to El Paso. I have a payload of unintended consequences to deliver.

Well, I’ve got one half of the biathlon down. Never needed skis to be a biathlete before. Heh.

5 days modestly gallivanting around Ireland (Total pints consumed = 1) and the bill was the equivalent of a cocaine orgy in Iceland or Japan. How the giddy fuck does anyone on a normal (Stand fast economists! You know what I mean) wage have any chance? All of my friend’s children have emigrated.

Just watched a caterer boomerang spit into his own face on the ramp at EWR. Just in case you’re wondering how the wind is here today.

Presented without comment.

Repost with a photo of yours that would make a good album cover. The Baltic Stance.

Cute hoors in Tipp. Hedging their bets.

Family reunion.

I’m not in Ireland an hour and learn that Poor Mouth Michael’s anniversary show is fucked AND that there’s no NFL wankery for Dublin this year. Strong opening, Home, but can you sustain it for the whole match?

Bougieness Class Enemy

Weren’t traveller’s cheques a bit mad, like? Sorry. I’m on an involuntary 12 hr airport appreciation sit and you’re going to be treated/subjected to my raw, unfiltered randomness.

A fiend*( not a typo) sent me this from his pagan site visiting. Good to see the old ones remembered. * To be clear, I’m not in Ireland right now. I will be on Tuesday though.

Hail Imbolc! Victory to Brigid! Glory to the first day of Spring!* * Stand fast, wielders of the Colonizer Calendar! I don’t fucking care.

Just. Fucking. Die. Already.

Quick respite from the Stupid Cold at the Goth Pilot resort. It’s a smart, competent Cold they have here.

Sad to see that the local variant of ‘Convertible’ isn’t more popular.

Those scamps at Frye sent me the wrong (very wrong) boots. Size 5.5 pixie jackboots. They must have been for Bovino.

Feens! Beours! I am pure buzzing with caffeine after replacing my primary emergency hot bevvie reserve. I forced loads of it on my neighbours and the lads doing the snow/ice removal. Intended to do an assault cleaning of the apartment but have been distracted by a) plant re-org and b) spatulas.

Do you see what I see?

It’s NOT B-O-A-R-D of Peace. It’s B-O-R-E-D of Peace. May they all die roaring.

With fiends like mine taking photos like this who needs additional enemies?

New career field opened up.

Occupied Six Counties Concorde.

One of the few down sides to Gothness is having to act frightened when you and the other bar fiends ( you just met )convince the barkeeper to allow you access to the tunnels running under this creepy ass hotel

Every AmeriTan could improve the world a little bit by eating their own fucking guns. Bastards.

If you go down to the woods today you’re in for a big (if quiet) surprise.

At a hotel in Iceland when I was accosted by a furious local who was 100% certain I was her friend ‘Siggi’. She legit thought I was her pal and got upset at my perceived snub. She went ballistic when I told her I didn’t speak anything but token Icelandic. Funny but slightly scary too.

Apartment living can provide SUCH joy sometimes. Neighbour had one of those cunty door cameras pointed right at my door. For three nights running I’ve donned full Domme garb while standing at my open door, drinking tea, swishing a riding crop and eye fucking their camera. Camera is now gone.

That’s right Murder Star, you can kiss my pale Irish taint.

Tad chilly yesterday. Even I was moved to bring a jacket.

Snowanoke! In your ‘hood @juphoff.bsky.social today.

Fenian boomsticks were booming this morning.

Best $5 I ever spent.

Same, Comrade, same.

While I have no objections to cats (valuable familiars for the most part) this one took some liberties this morning outside the training centre.

On my way to the Swamp Reich for recurrent training. This does not please me. OBVIOUSLY. Get on the plane and there’s already some mouldering old cunt in my seat. “ You can just take my seat” “ Aaand where exactly is your seat? I don’t read minds before noon.” These fucking people.

I’m not sure how the secret service assign code names /call signs but doesn’t Trump default to Humidor One now?

Bull Clinton, amirite?

Training new, non-Goth FOs to my way of doing things is tedious. I have developed a template. Me: “ Where’d ya learn to fly?” Them: “ Embry-Ri..” Me: “SHUTTHEFUCKUPIDON’TCAAAAARE” Me: “ Where’d ya learn to fly?” Them: “ University of…” Me: “SHUTTHEFUCKUPIDON’TCAAAAARE” (Cont.)

Some VANDAL (or possibly an Ostrogoth) but very definitely NOT this Goth has been updating those asinine ‘This Is The Turning Point’ Charlie Kirk yard signs around town. If it were me, I’d have done two smaller stigmata in the photo and been a bit more economical with the red rattle can.

Work has been quiet for the last couple of months. Shame because it’s been perfect flying weather. Then I get rocked with 10 legs over the last 48 hours. Of those 10, 9 were flown sideways. Absolutely stuffed the landing on the 10th because I forgot how to fly without wind shear and turbulence.