I love the Bob Semple tank.

Here’s a rare non-TERRIBLE-advice post. Yes I sometimes write them, you friggin’ numpty:

Many thanks to https://www.facebook.com/759933444372886/posts/the... Yes the photo on the right is the actual real tank. Unreal, isn't it?

Not merely because it’s so exquisitely crap, but because its inventor, Bob Semple, would be the first to acknowledge its crapness.

For those who don’t know, Bob Semple was the New Zealand government’s Minister of Works during World War Two. When Britain declared war on Nazi Germany, New Zealand had done its bit as the self-identified “England of the South Seas” by immediately sending off its strapping young men to battle Erwin Rommel, the Desert Fox himself, way over in North Africa.

New Zealand basically bled itself white of military strength. But it’s the most remote country in the world. A million miles from anywhere. Come on. How likely is danger to threaten? Not very!

Then Japan declared war too.

And New Zealand started shitting bricks.

Oh sure, Japan is still a bloody long way off … but at the time, it possessed the second most powerful Navy in the world. Its fleets could smash through any naval opposition the Allies could deploy Pacificward. At least in December 1941. Britain's Royal Navy was already at breaking point containing Germany and Italy. What the hell could New Zealand do against Japan?

Improvise, that’s what. Bob Semple conducted a speedy-quick review of what local industry and production could produce: tractors and corrugated iron. Right. That’ll do!

He threw together the Bob Semple tank. It featured caterpillar tracks and steel sides and machine guns, and very few features you'd find on actual real tanks. Yes, if Bob Semple tanks went up against literally any other tank in the entire universe, they’d get the shit kicked out of them in zero seconds flat. But … the Japanese armies actually relied more on foot soldiers and banzai charges and military fighting spirit than conventional anti-armour doctrine. In open terrain, against rifle infantry, a mobile machine gun platform like the Bob Semple tank might actually do quite well.

But yes it looks ridiculous! No argument from me there. The Bob Semple tank got laughed out of Parliament. Semple himself readily acknowledged how idiotic it looked, but also quite reasonably pointed out that he was doing the best he could with the atrocious range of industrial output available to him. And I agree. If Japan had ever invaded and put his tank to the test, the general public and the nation’s MPs might discover the folly of relying overly on tacticool over results.

Original: https://mikeyclarke.co.nz/blog/2021/11/i-love-the-bob-semple-tank

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Bullshit Hors D’oeuvres: TERRIBLE ADVICE posts

Enjoy this snazzy sampling of hintCLICKABLEhint crowd-pleasers:

On the sublime wisdom in showing every nosy goddamn therapist who's boss: today's TERRIBLE advice

““I beg of you, don’t unleash Jordan Peterson on us again!” Nearly spit out the coffee with that one! Can always come here for a good belly laugh 🩵”

Stephanie Macisco

On scheming bitches, Antarctic science side quests, extra-gorgeous ponies, and the Zodiac Killer: today's TERRIBLE advice

“Every paragraph somehow made less sense than the previous one, and yet I remained fully committed to finding out whether the ponies were involved. To be fair, I initially read "extra-gorgeous ponies" as "extra-gorgeous PEONIES," which made the sudden appearance of the Zodiac Killer even more alarming.”

Michelle Blaine

Who should rule the world? Teenagers, that's not who

“Haha - love your writing so much.. 'I cultivate bullshit emeritus!' This made me lol.”

Eva Solen

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Bullshit Banquet: the SEXYVERSE NOVELS

*ahem*

IN A WORLD where wars are fought with romance and flirting and delicious erotic TENSION, the rivalries throbbing between history’s Great Powers have become a BUTTLOAD more bubbly, with fewer hideous massacres of musket and cannon, and OODLES more frisky cunnilingus contests:

The Sex Commandos Thwart The Third Vaginal Apocalypse

Part One: The Knights Of Raw Phwoar

Might Earth’s free nations drown under terrifying tornadoes of French femme-foam? Like hell, shout Britain’s Royal Marines Sex Commandos. Let’s assassinate France’s Imperatrix Brigitte Bardot! Come on. What’s the worst that could happen?

Part Two: The Soviet Sluts Superb

Turns out out-flirting Imperatrix Bardot is like trying to wank off Mt. Blanc when it’s wanking you back. Plan B: skedaddle, regroup, out-flirt the entirety of France and get loads more practice, then it’s stealthy-sneaky Round Two or bust.

Part Three: The Cervical Supremacy

Turns out flirting with every ladybro Rambo in France produces Rivals and Frenemies and Jilted Waifus galore. Smashing fun, but utter Kryptonite for Imperial kill-plans. Like, ever tried noshing off a world leader whilst a billion fanb0is fondle your buttocks? Want to? Read on!

Part Four: The Praetorian Prostitutes

The game’s up! The irresistible force of fanb0i-fondlemania has headbutted the immovable object of a gazillion furious Paris cops. They too thirst for Sex Commando patoot. Crunch time. Either launch one final rocket-strike against Bardot and France, or Earth’s free nations forever perish.

Part Five: [soon, baby]

Click these and enjoy these and your appetites will be SATISFIED.

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