Cold Fury

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Burn baby

The Comey dumpster fire intensifies.

Comey’s Memos Indicate Dossier Briefing Of Trump Was A Setup
Newly released memos written by former FBI director James Comey indicate that an early 2017 briefing for then-President-elect Donald Trump about the contents of an infamous dossier was held so it could be leaked to media outlets eager to report on the dossier’s allegations. In multiple memos, Comey specifically mentioned that CNN had the dossier and wanted a “news hook” that would enable the network to report on its most salacious allegations even though they had not been verified.

“I said the Russians allegedly had tapes involving him and prostitutes at the Presidential Suite at the Ritz Carlton in Moscow from about 2013,” Comey wrote of his conversation with Trump in a classified memo that was released in redacted form late Thursday. “I said I wasn’t saying this was true, only that I wanted him to know both that it had been reported and that the reports were in many hands.”

No media organizations had reported the allegations at the time Comey briefed Trump.

“I said media like CNN had them and were looking for a news hook,” Comey added in his memo about the briefing with Trump on January 6, 2017.

With which Comey, via the maskirovka of his meticulously incomplete, manipulative briefing of Trump, was was only too happy to provide them.

It just so happens that the existence of the very briefing he cooked up with Clapper and Brennan was leaked to CNN within a few days, providing them with the very “news hook” Comey told Trump CNN was looking for.

And… oh right, the House Intelligence Committee report says that Clapper gave “inconsistent” answers regarding his contacts in this time frame with, get this, CNN.

Oh, I’m sure it was all just a coincidence and not any kind of deliberately-set trap for Trump or anything. I mean, come on; Comey is an honest guy, a man of integrity and principle. He’s been saying so endlessly this past week, to everybody within reach, so it has to be true. If you don’t believe it, just ask him; you ought to be able to approach him easily enough to pose the question, given the attendance at his book-tour appearances so far. He’s just sitting around on his little stool all by himself getting his picture taken, pretty much. If you can get through the fawning libmedia scrum, you’re good to go.

Things are going to get pretty hot for Comey from here on out. He’s looking more and more like the key to unraveling the whole conspiracy. The Left is beginning to get serious about throwing him under the bus now, which hints at his imminent scapegoat status pretty broadly: note how eager libmedia is to get Comey’s “lifelong Republican” Congressional-testimony remarks out there, and expand on them. That there is a tell, folks. They’re trying to disassociate the Democrat Socialists, especially his co-conspirators Obama and Hillary!™, from him as preamble to hanging him out to dry.

If you’re calculating the odds on whether the treasonous higher-ups who conspired to rig and then overturn an American presidential election will ever face justice for their high crimes, pay attention to what happens with Comey. If the DoJ takes the criminal referral seriously and honestly follows through on it, Comey will almost certainly be among the first to stand trial. At that point, one of two things happens: either Comey decides to save his own bacon, stops lying, goes rat, and spills his guts under oath, or he decides to play out his fantasy of being a latter-day G Gordon Liddy, fulfilling his self-proclaimed destiny to Save Democracy! by nobly taking one for the team.

Hard to say which he’ll do, honestly. He (mis)represents himself as a heroic defender of truth, justice, and the American Way, despite seeing nothing wrong with subverting not just one but several American institutions, as well as putting paid to any remaining faith in the integrity of our election system and revealing participatory democracy and self-government to be a sham. If his belief in his fantasies is strong enough, it could conceivably steel him to do what he so hazily sees as his duty, clam up to protect the big wheels, and face what he no doubt will consider a travesty of justice, a persecution by Enemies of the State, on his own.

Then again, Comey is a pissant, a poor excuse for a man, and no kind of patriot regarding anything the Founders would recognize as righteous government. The prospect of doing time would have to frighten a cowardly Deep State weasel like him half out of his wits. Being long accustomed to the protection of the federal tyranny—to hiding his lawless skullduggery behind the scrim of a sprawling, faceless, untouchable bureacracy ever loyal to its own—and then seeing that protection suddenly removed is likely to motivate such a “man” to start looking out for Numero Uno (as if that wasn’t what he’s been doing his entire career) and make some kind of deal to cooperate that keeps him from being put behind bars, or at least getting his hair mussed and his manicure ruined by doing serious time in a real prison.

In either of those cases, Deep State blood is likely to spill—the puddle of gore spread much wider and deeper by the former scenario than the latter—and Comey himself will be duly wrecked. Thereby will justice be served in at least some measure, although the former scenario won’t make for a very satisfying meal.

On the other hand, if the DoJ softpedals its investigation, setting up more endless hearings designed to bog down in pedantry and speechifying long enough for public interest to fade so they can announce sotto very damned voce the foregone inconclusive verdict of “Eh, Whatever” before turning the whole kit and kaboodle loose with nothing worse than an opprobius look and a shrug, we’ll know that the capos of the Deep State truly are invulnerable, that they are de facto immune from justice no matter how clear-cut and heinous their crimes, that the votes supposed to give voice to the will of normal Americans matter not a whit…and that our system of government is in fact rotten beyond all hope of repair.

Or they could also lead lesser vermin like, say, McCabe, Stroke/Page, or maybe even Brennan to slaughter as token sacrifical offerings, providing Big King Rats like Obama, Hillary!™, and Lynch a gaping hole in the rule of law to squirm through and scurry away before anyone notices. Lady Justice is pretty easy to gyp in America that way, what with her blindfold and all.

Which is when it gets to be just about time to start shooting the bastards.

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Everymanwoman

These are my identities. If you don’t like them, I have others. Many others.

NY Gov. Cuomo Says He’s Muslim, Female, and Jewish, Among Other Things
It is becoming more and more obvious that former “Sex and the City” star Cynthia Nixon has New York Governor Andrew Cuomo a little panicky these days. Not only does Nixon have the celebrity power to raise money, but she’s been making the rounds with the progressive crowd in New York for a few years now. Cuomo is now lurching so hard to the left he may need chiropractic care soon. Here, he embarrassingly makes the case that being a New Yorker allows him to identify with, well, whichever group he wants to. It’s difficult to pick the most cringe-worthy claim, but I’ll go with when he says, “I am a woman…seeking to control her health and her choices.”

Translation for that last: (s)he’s pregnant, and wants to “control her health and her choices” by murdering the child. For the record, he’s also: heterosexual, homosexual, transgender, liberal, conservative, a dove, a hawk, black, white, Hispanic, Asian, a big-city elitist, a salt-of-the-earth Regular Guy, a lumberjack…and anything else anybody who might conceivably vote for him wishes him to be.

Reminds me of Ed Koch going around asking everyone within reach, “How’m I doing?,” only much more greasy, desperate, and insincere.

Speaking of pathetic and obnoxious:

From early on, the Clinton camp saw Trump as an enemy to encourage, Chozick writes. During the campaign, as had been previously reported, there was an effort to elevate Trump into a so-called Pied Piper in order to tie him to the mainstream of the Republican Party.

“An agenda for an upcoming campaign meeting sent by [Campaign Manager] Robby Mook’s office asked, ‘How do we maximize Trump?’” Chozick writes, describing a time when the GOP primary was still crowded.

Oops.

By the time of the conventions, though, as Trump was selected as the Republican nominee, the Clinton campaign was still trying to figure out how to improve her negative favorability ratings.

“A week earlier, she’d cut off Joel and the pollster John Anzalone, as they walked her through the almost daily reminder that half the country disliked her,” Chozick writes. “You know, I am getting pretty tired of hearing about how nobody likes me,” she said.

“‘Oh, what’s the point? They’re never going to like me,’ Hillary told this friend.”

Well, whaddya know. The snarling, incompetent trainwreck got something right. Once.

All that seems to lead into the damaging video of Clinton calling half of Trump supporters a “basket of deplorables,” at a New York fundraiser in September 2016.

That was no slip of the tongue, since “Hillary always broke down Trump supporters into three baskets,” Chozick writes.

  • “Basket #1: The Republicans who hated her and would vote Republican no matter who the nominee.
  • Basket #2: Voters whose jobs and livelihoods had disappeared, or as Hillary said, ‘who feel that the government has let them down, the economy has let them down, nobody cares about them, nobody worries about what happens in their lives and their futures.’

Translation: people who know that the economy let them down due to government interference with and mismanagement of it, who neither expect nor want the government to care about them or worry about their lives and their futures but to get the hell out of their way and leave them alone.

  • Basket #3: The Deplorables. This basket includes ‘the racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, Islamophobic—you name it.’

Translation: people who are sick of being called racist; people who respect women but also relish the differences between the sexes; people who don’t really give a shit what people do in their bedrooms but also don’t like being harangued by radical-Left psychotics seeking to undermine and overthrow cherished American rights, traditions, and institutions for no real reason; people who think America has a first-order duty to secure and manage its borders; people who know who it is committing the overwhelming majority of terrorist atrocities, understand fully what’s really in the Koran, and are therefore cautious and skeptical about Muslim intentions.

But now we come to the most delightful part:

On the night of the election, Chozick describes a dejected Clinton when she was told by campaign staffers that it was over.

Goosebumps. I got actual goosebumps here.

“Of all the Brooklyn aides, Jen Palmieri had the most pleasant bedside manner,” Chozick writes. “That made her the designated deliverer of bad news to Hillary. But not this time. She told Robby there was no way she was going to tell Hillary she couldn’t win. That’s when Robby, drained and deflated, watching the results with his team in a room down the hall from Hillary’s suite, labored into the hallway of the Peninsula to break the news. Hillary didn’t seem all that surprised. ‘I knew it. I knew this would happen to me…’ Hillary said, now within a couple of inches of his face. ‘They were never going to let me be president.’”

Damned skippy we weren’t, whiny bitch. Now go soak your head in a vat of something 16 years old and 90 proof. Or hydrochloric acid, whichever is handier.

The advisers and staff quoted in this article and elsewhere were the people closest to her—people who had faith in her, supported her, and believed her qualified to be president, enough so to labor tirelessly (and thanklessly) on her behalf to make it so.

They were the people who worked with her for uncountably long hours, who saw her every single day—morning, noon, and night. The people who knew her better than anybody, if you wish to grant the (barely) possible exception of her “husband.” And they were all just terrified of her, to the embarrassing extreme of shirking their professional duty to bring her bad news, news that would shatter her delusional megalomania and sense of entitlement for all time.

Says quite a lot, don’t it?

Lord, what an awful woman. And what a deadly bullet the Republic dodged when we sent her ass packing once and for all.

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Decivilization

It’s the culture, stupid: its art, its history, its philosophy. Mike Walsh is on it.

My thesis is simple: we can learn more about the nature and practice of politics from, say, The Oresteia or The Aeneid—to give just two examples more than two millennia old—than we can from the Kennedy School of Government at Harvard, and that the visit of Vladimir Horowitz to the Soviet Union in April 1986 (about which I wrote a cover story for Time magazine) did more to hasten the collapse of the USSR five years later than all the white papers and policy statements from the American talking-head establishment wonks of the day.

The new book is more prescriptive—a kind of how-to combat manual of cultural touchstones from which we as inheritors of the Greco-Roman enlightenment can recollect our strengths and moral authority, reject the false equivalences of multiculturalism, accept that Western syncretism (known disparagingly now as “cultural appropriation”) is something profoundly good and beneficial to all cultures, and from which we can draw a renewed vigor in our defense of ourselves.

In Monday’s speech in the beautiful new Visitor Center, I located a signal change in the Western education system that, at the time, looked like an advance: the American reaction to the launch of Sputnik in 1957. Suddenly, America felt it was losing its technological edge over the Soviets so American schoolchildren became acquainted en masse with the wonders and joys of the slide rule and the hard sciences. The effect was immediate: we quickly regained and maintained our advantage over our antagonists, but it came with a price: the downgrading of the importance of the arts as a civilizing and ennobling force in American public (and private) life.

So while the emphasis on tech eventually resulted in the creation of the personal computer and the iPhone, it also reduced the literary and plastic arts from essential elements of nationhood to “entertainments” for the wealthy; triggered the coarsening of society and, worst of all, cut both America and, shortly thereafter, the Western European nations from the wellsprings of their shared patrimony. This may not entirely have been by design, but it was seized upon by the nascent philosophy of the Frankfurt School, which by this time had been transplanted from pre-Nazi Germany to Columbia University in Manhattan and quickly spread throughout the American system of higher education.  

The result? To take just one example, the New York City public school system went from offering a model education in music and the arts to needing police officers in the schools—a reflection of the overall changes in demography, to be sure, but also of the decivilizing effect the loss of a democratized high culture entails. More Mozart, fewer metal detectors…

In The Fiery Angel, I am not arguing that the arts should be politicized—that way lies the corpse of the old Soviet Union (and this is treated at some length in the chapter entitled “The Raft of the Medusa”). Rather, I am saying that the arts both predict and comment upon historical-political developments in ways that no dispassionate analysis can manage. Try this sequence of events on for size:

Beaumarchais–Mozart–The French Revolution–Beethoven–Napoleon.  From Le Marriage de Figarothe play, to Le nozze di Figaro the opera, to the start of the French Revolution and fall of Louis XVI is a span of only five years, and yet in that time the royal edifice was first lampooned, then sexualized, and finally pulled down around the aristocrats’ ears. Those with sensitive antennae—among them Louis XVI himself, who initially forbade public performances of Beaumarchais’ play—could see what was coming. Most could not.

Our Progressivist-run government schools have thoroughly perverted and politicized the history curriculum, “balancing” any notion of American greatness, uniqueness, and benignity (when those notions aren’t excised altogether) with immaterial nonsense like “Washington owned slaves!” and other such irrelevancies, and that’s no accident. It’s resoundingly evident that any lasting reversal of the cultural enervation the Left has deliberately inflicted on us must begin with instilling a proper appreciation for Western civilization, its achievements, and the intellectual and artistic roots of its unprecedented success in young minds.

Continue reading “Decivilization”

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As popular as hemorrhoids

Weren’t we just talking about vainglorious blowhards a minute ago? And didn’t I mention last night that Comey’s past his sell-by date?

Why yes, we were and I did.

Washington (CNN) When “Fire and Fury” hit bookshelves in January, the release became a Washington event, marked by people lining up at local bookstores and sold-out speaking events for author Michael Wolff. Washingtonian even compared the hype around the release to that of “Harry Potter.”

But DC’s book nerds didn’t turn up for James Comey’s “A Higher Loyalty.” At least not in the masses booksellers might have expected.

“There are more cameras here than people,” one person joked.

Another journalist asked the room: “Is anyone a normal person or is everyone a journalist?”

Only one person — reluctantly — identified himself as a “normal person.”

I have a feeling certain over-eager purchasing agents are going to find themselves in a boiling swivet over this:



You’re going places all right—straight to the dumpster with your precious cart o’ crap, to heave all those unsold books into it.

Instead of frittering away their time on Comey’s claptrap, the emitters of the above fragrant Twitter belch would be far better served by spending some quality time in their safe space with a dictionary reviewing the definition of the word “truth,” of which they seem to have a comically ass-backwards grasp. I can’t find any hard numbers as of yet, but I’ve heard and read it was a similar sad story at his NYC appearance. Even more edifying than Comey inspiring mass indifference amongst the book-buying public, though, is this:

RUSH: Grab sound bite number 23 and play it again. This is Laura Loomer. She comes from the James O’Keefe shop, Project Veritas. She’s now acting independently. She showed up at Comey’s book signing event at Barnes & Noble in New York last night.

LOOMER: How is it ethical to brief the president of the United States on an unverifiable and salacious dossier, and how is it ethical leadership to not tell him that his political opposition, Hillary Clinton, paid for that? You are not an ethical leader!

MAN: Ma’am, you’re gonna have to leave.

LOOMER: You’re gonna get prosecuted, Comey! You’re gonna get locked up!

T’is a consummation devoutly to be wished, that is. Comey, and the whole gang of sewer-crawlers with him, too. A tip of the cap to Loomer for speaking truth to (former) power.

Later, Jimmy-boy. Good luck in prison. Remember to bring lots of soap and cigarettes. Might want to give country music legend Kinky Friedman’s heartrending ode to jailhouse love gone awry “It’s Hard To Relax Your Sphincter When You’re Crying” a careful listen or three, too.

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All cucked out

I do believe Schlichter has had it with certain insufferable baglappers.

You know all that insufferable babbling and crying about “principles” we had to endure from you Never Trump Konservative Ken Dolls? Your rending of your cheap suits, your 180s over classic GOP policies because The Donald actually tried to enact them, and your mortifying blubbering to suddenly sympathetic hosts on MSNBC and CNN about how awful our President is? With your sad, drawn faces and high-pitched voices, you True Conservatives of Conservatism™, you Keepers of the Flame of Conservativeness resisted the coming of Donald Trump (and those who supported him) because…because…

Because that’s not who we are…

Because we’re better than that…

Because…our principles!

Our principles. Yeah, right. Well, it was all a crock, a con, a grift by a bunch of displaced Beltway strivers furious that the marks – that’s us Normals – wised up to their scam, played the players, and sent them packing.

While we’re on the topic of supercilious, ineffectual frauds:

Former presidential candidate Evan McMullin owes his former campaign staff members tens of thousands of dollars and most believe he has no intention of ever paying them, a former campaign worker tells The Daily Caller News Foundation.

Right before McMullin’s failed bid for president in 2016 as the conservative alternative to President Donald Trump, the campaign was inundated with debt. The disastrous fiscal situation was a combination of frivolous spending by McMullin and his campaign manager Joel Searby, according to the former staffer.

That same report from TheDCNF demonstrated that the campaign has been potentially violating federal campaign finance law for nearly a year because it has ceased performing the required monthly filings despite numerous warnings from the FEC.

But..but…but…MUH FISCAL-RESPONSIBILITY-CONSERVATIVE PRINCIPLES!!!

“Guys like [McMullin] are up on their high horse. I want the American public to know that this guy isn’t suitable to be in office anywhere. I wouldn’t even trust him on my local city council knowing what I know now,” he said.

Oh, I don’t think anyone needs to waste any time worrying about that anymore. His usefulness as “true conservative” Bill Kristol’s sockpuppet has dried up, so McMuffin will be gallumphing on back into well-deserved obscurity until his arrest, arraignment, and trial gets a glancing mention in one of those whatever-happened-to segments on Entertainment Tonight.

We killed two birds with one stone with this one, and it’s pretty sweet: firstly, McMuffin became a national laughingstock with a quickness. Secondly, Kristol’s attempt to usurp the Konservative Kingmaker throne fell flat on its flabby ass. A nice day’s work all around, folks. We now return you to Schlichter for more Singapore-style flogging.

You don’t hate Donald Trump because he feels he can ignore your glorious principles o’ convenience. You hate Donald Trump because he feels he can ignore you.

And same with the rest of the Normals, those of us who had to spend decades listening to your excuses and lies until we noticed that the cruise ship captains of the conservative elite had been treading water. Oh yeah, every election you promised to fight, and after every election all you did was fail. But you had a good gig, as long as the bipartisan elite grift was in effect. When the GOP won, you were the in-crowd, and you raked in donations and media hits with the promise that you would use the power we gave you to make real conservative change.

But that never seemed to happen.

It was a pretty good scam, that is, until we got tired of being lied to and installed a disruptor into office. And what we hired him to disrupt was your sweet little gig.

We rejected you. Us unwashed, uncivilized, non-DC/NY-living nobodies rejected you, and now you can’t even get your phone calls returned from that 24-year old guy in a MAGA hat down at the Old Executive Office Building. You’re a nobody, a punchline, writing articles nobody reads for magazines no one remembers.

Ouch. I mean, just…ouch. That is DEFINITELY gonna leave a mark.

I can’t be the only one who finds it an absolute scream that both wings of our professional-politician class, right along with the priggish punditry, just can’t seem to help but shoot themselves in the foot over and over now that we’re on to their flimflammery. The curtain has been pulled back (thanks in very large measure to one Donald J Trump), exposing the Great and Powerful Wizard of Washington as just some frumpy schlub hiding in a booth pulling levers, pushing buttons, and speaking imperiously into a microphone.

The whole DC circle-jerk is a three-ring farce of, by, and for vainglorious blowhards. As with all clown acts, the pie in the face at the end is the funniest part of the whole show.

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Election projection

Limbaugh is pretty danged confident:

RUSH: This is Marvin Kalb at the National Press Club’s Monday night live The Kalb Report event. He’s a professor at Harvard, and he’s talking with the New York Times White House correspondent Peter Baker about covering the White House under Trump.

KALB: I have been told by many of your colleagues how difficult it is to cover President Trump —

BAKER: Mmmph!

KALB: — that he simply dominates everything in the environment and therefore you get caught up, on any given day, covering the story that he sort of presents to you.

BAKER: He is a remarkable force of nature in a way I’ve never seen. So, in that environment, as you say, to kind of escape that vortex and focus on something of our own, you know, ambition, uhhh, is a challenge.

RUSH: Come on! What kind of dummkopfs do they think we are? These guys, Peter Baker and Marvin Kalb, are actually saying, “There’s all kinds of stuff we want to cover, but we don’t. We can’t! We can’t because Trump is forcing us to cover him. He does so much and he’s in the news so often that we can’t not cover…” It sounds to me like Trump has these guys wrapped around his little finger.

Continue reading “Election projection”

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Curtains for Comey

Looks like we might be just about done with this Deep State dickhead and his fellow coup-plotters.

Congressional lawmakers made a criminal referral Wednesday to the Department of Justice Attorney General Jeff Sessions against former senior-level Obama administration officials, including employees of the FBI connected with the unverified dossier alleging collusion between the Trump campaign and Russia, as well as those involved in the warrants used to spy on a former Trump campaign volunteer, this reporter has learned. The lawmakers also made a criminal referral on former Attorney General Loretta Lynch and threats made by her DOJ against the FBI informant, who provided the bureau with information on the Russian nuclear industry and the approval in 2010 to sell roughly 20 percent of American uranium mining assets to Russia.

House Oversight and Government Reform Committee member Rep. Ron DeSantis, R-Florida, along with ten other colleagues sent the letter Wednesday to Sessions and FBI Director Christopher Wray criminally referring former FBI Director James Comey, former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, former Attorney General Loretta Lynch, and former FBI Deputy Director Andrew McCabe for their involvement in the investigations into President Trump and alleged violations of federal law. FBI Special Agent Peter Strzok and his paramour FBI lawyer Lisa Page, whose anti-Trump text messages obtained by the DOJ Inspector General Michael Horowitz, were also included in the referral.

“We write to refer the following individuals for investigation of potential violation(s) of federal statutes,” states the letter obtained by this reporter.  “In doing so, we are especially mindful of the dissimilar degrees of zealousness that has marked the investigations into Former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton and the presidential campaign of Donald Trump, respectively. Because we believe that those in positions of high authority should be treated the same as every other American, we want to be sure that the potential violations of law outlined below are vetted appropriately.”

Might we at long, long last see some piping-hot justice served up to these despicable scoundrels? It looks like a good start, but if Sessions somehow contrives to drop the ball on this one he needs to be gone so fast his wake turbulence pulls the office furniture out the door behind him. Comey in particular looks to be floundering pretty badly of late: he’s been caught in a whole slew of lies, his ludicrous Heroic Defender Of Democracy act is being snickered at by pretty much everybody, and I think we can all guess just how briskly copies of his book are migrating from the sale table to the remainder bins.

Comey’s literary debut will likely turn out to be second only to Her Herness’s record-setting flop in terms of sales appeal—lack thereof, rather. Speaking of Hillary!™, she’s doing some pretty serious crashing-and-burning her own self:



If she wasn’t such a godawful shrew, one might almost feel sorry for her. Certainly one can sympathize with her eagerness to wrap herself in a fog of bitter, gin-soaked oblivion when confronted with one repudiation after another like this.

Comey link via Ace, Hillary!™ one via Ace and Guy Benson, who gives the knife a solid twist:

Barely over a quarter of Americans have a favorable view of Mrs. Clinton, with an outright majority holding negative opinions. That’s significantly worse than Trump, even in NBC/WSJ’s generally Trump-unfriendly survey series, well beyond the poll’s margin of error. Some of her dreadful numbers can be chalked up to many on the Left turning sour, from Bernie folks (who’ve never liked her), to a decent number of Clinton supporters and endorsers whose patience has run out — or who fret that her ongoing blame-storming and high-profile presence is an impediment to Democratic gains. I also suspect that anti-Hillary sentiment has hardened in centrist and right-leaning precincts, too, particularly after her appalling overseas smears against Trump voters — whom she cast as racist, nativist and sexist. Her digs at Trump’s millions of female voters were also condescending beyond belief, forcing some of her vulnerable Senate gal pals to push back.

Ah well, she at least has the support of her loving husband to sustain her through these travails.

Hm. Better bust out another bottle there, Hils. Mind them stairs.

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Words of wisdom

Nailed it. Just…flat…NAILED it.

To be sure, many Americans of good faith bemoan the amount of money spent on campaign contributions and political speech. But if you don’t like big money in politics, then you should oppose big government in our lives. Because the former is a necessary consequence of the latter. When government grows larger, when regulators pick more and more economic winners and losers, participation in the political process ceases to be merely a citizen’s prerogative—it becomes a human necessity. This is the inevitable result of a government that would be unrecognizable to our Founders. See, e.g., NFIB v. Sebelius, 567 U.S. 519 (2012).

So if there is too much money in politics, it’s because there’s too much government. The size and scope of government makes such spending essential. See, e.g., EMILY’s List v. FEC, 581 F.3d 1, 33 (D.C. Cir. 2009) (Brown, J., concurring) (“The more power is at stake, the more money will be used to shield, deflect, or co-opt it. So long as the government can take and redistribute a man’s livelihood, there will always be money in politics.”).

It’s always amused the hell out of me to hear calls to “get the money out of politics” or promises from politicians to do so, as if that had ever in human history been even a remote possibility. It will NEVER happen, people. Since government by its nature has influence over the economy or the lives of its subjects, there will always be those who seek to insulate themselves from it, reduce the weight of it, or influence it in their turn. Just as Judge Ho says: the bigger and more powerful the government, the more money will be spent to provide that insulation. It ought to be obvious, a for-real no-brainer—a basic, self-evident premise almost everyone can agree on. Yet somehow, it isn’t.

The good judge is a Trump appointee, by the way. Yeah, somebody tell me again all about how he’s accomplished nothing worthwhile at all so far, whydon’tcha.

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The collapse that wasn’t

Culper insists on the mot juste.

I hate using the words “civil war” and “collapse”, because they’re not specific. Whenever I read the words “societal collapse” or “economic collapse”, I wonder: collapse to what level? 100% collapse? 50% collapse? (Even a 25% collapse in employment and living standards is going to cause significant problems.) One could argue that we’re witnessing a societal collapse right now — a collapse of established, normative sociopolitical behavior and attitudes. It might be more accurate and specific to say that we’ve entered into a period of societal decline, but it only goes to show just how vague the word “collapse” actually is. The collapse of the Roman Empire lasted for centuries, and we only know that because we can read the history. I wonder if those living in any given 50 year period of that collapse understood that collapse was occurring. The same can be said of civil war. Will states be fighting each other in the Second Civil War? Is the North invading the South again? Will we be battling for control over Washington D.C.? What, exactly, is meant by the term civil war?

Now, you may be thinking, Well, that’s just a semantic game. Everyone knows what a civil war is. This may work for a cursory understanding of where we’re headed, but in intelligence we deal with specifics. The commander needs to know the who, what, when, where, why, and how of the situation. You don’t prepare for a civil war, you don’t prepare for an electromagnetic pulse, you don’t prepare for economic collapse. You prepare for the effects of these events. And if we’re not deliberate with our understanding of these threats and their second- and third-order effects, then we’re not truly prepared.

Predicting the future is hard, especially when we define our terms and arrange our expectations in reference to definitions and historical conditions that no longer apply, something we humans are wont to do.

Sam is right: we’re well into the collapse of what Normals think of as our traditional cultural arrangement and organization. The social contract as Americans once knew it is long gone, and it ain’t coming back. Not when half of us are obnoxiously determined to inflict authoritarian tyranny on the half resistant to such, it ain’t. As I keep saying, there is no bridging this gap; the two positions are incompatible, irreconcilable, and not amenable to negotiation or compromise. One side must prevail, and one side must capitulate. It’s a pretty sorry pass all right, but it’s where we are.

Update! Zman puts up some interesting thoughts on civil war as social war:

Continue reading “The collapse that wasn’t”

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Toys!

Ace runs down a whole bunch of great ones from the 60s and 70s, but he leaves out one of the greatest of them all: the M16 Marauder, by Mattel. Our whole neighborhood had these things when I was a kid, and they were GREAT. Only trouble was, after packing fistfuls of dirt down the barrel a few times to make it smoke when you “fired” it—which naturally we all did—the big, realistic sound it originally produced was rendered kind of…umm, humble, shall we say. First thing we all did, right out of the box, was rip the silly orange tip on the muzzle of the weapon off and throw it away to facilitate said dirt-packing. Also because it just looked goofy.

It had a select-fire switch which didn’t function—it was full-auto only, which means it was no more a true assault rifle than are the semi-only AR15s the libs are all soaking their Underoos over today—and a charging handle which did. You racked the lever back, laid on the trigger, and the handle would tick along forward until it reached the stop and the “magazine” was “emptied.” I don’t recall ever counting individual shots to determine what the magazine capacity was (according to this ad, it was “over 50 rounds”). You easily could’ve, as the cycling rate was somewhat slower than a real-life Thompson M1A1*. It just never occurred to us to do it, that’s all.

The mechanism that made the sound also created a modest vibration along with it, thereby heightening the whole M16 experience to the delight of all. When the charging handle got all the way forward to the stop the shooting stopped too. Then you “reloaded” by racking back again and the fun started all over. You blasted away on full rock-and-roll until you finally ran out of rounds, resulting in your position being overrun by Victor Charlie or the NVA, the pus-nutted commie bastards. Then you’d be captured and hauled off to the Hanoi Hilton for years of torture both physical and mental, your very existence denied by the US government for ass-covering purposes. Eventually you’d break and sign a statement denouncing American imperialism, whereupon you would be released to “serve” the next 70 or 80 years as a duplicitous, arrogant, self-serving Republican US senator, perhaps. If you were lucky.

The only thing that might’ve made this thing more fun was if it had come with a detachable magazine, with a spare or two included. But we’d only have lost ’em pretty quickly, I guess, so maybe it’s just as well they didn’t.

A mere hundred and forty bucks on eBay, folks. Probably around ten brand new way back when, fifteen at most. Nowadays, you wouldn’t dare try to buy such a thing for your kid at all. If you expressed a desire to right out loud you’d be hustled off to a facility for some vigorous “counseling” regarding such egregious child abuse, your kids heavily sedated to restore their shattered psychological equilibrium before being packed off to foster care for good. You MONSTER.

This is what we call “progress,” see.

*Best subgun EVER, by the way. And yes, I have shot one, and know whereof I speak. Many times, thank you very much.

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Can they be stopped?

William Gensert doesn’t think so.

In seeking and executing a warrant to search the offices and home of Michael Cohen, President Trump’s longtime personal attorney, leftists have abandoned all pretense that they are not prosecuting civil war against Americans who disagree with them. They have decided that we represent an existential threat to the America they envision would exist under their tutelage. They won’t let us mind our own business, raise our children, protect our families, be productive citizens, and be left alone. That won’t do – they have plans for us. They want this war, and they will force this fight upon us.

In the scheme of things, America is a young country. Yet its brief history is replete with people who underestimated Americans. Progressives are in the process of doing that today. It is a mistake that will cost them dearly.

To succeed in fundamentally transforming the United States of America, the left must accomplish two things:

  • Impeach President Donald Trump.
  • Disarm Americans.

The left, in a national fit of pique, refuses to accept the fact that a majority of the country rejects its “new America,” as personified by its hero and god, Barack Obama. He started the transmogrification, which leftists had planned to extend and codify during the reign of Hillary Clinton. Then Donald Trump came along, and their plan fell apart, hence the necessity for the usurpation of the nation’s constitution and the will of the people.

The signs are there that Americans are going to fight this. There is a real possibility of blood in the streets. Regular Americans are tired of the Democrat elite telling them what they must accept.

Leftists feel that they are right: America shouldn’t have a choice. In effect, people should not be allowed to vote for anyone leftists do not approve of, and they certainly do not approve of Donald Trump.

They didn’t approve of George W Bush or McCain either. But when they turned bland, middle-of-the-road milquetoast Mittens Romneycare into a RIGHT-WING EXTREMIST monster—then Paul Ryno, for that matter, pushing Granny off a cliff—the writing was on the wall for all to see. Lefty has modified Sherman’s famous quote and put it into practice: if nominated, Republicans will not be allowed to run. If elected, they will not be allowed to serve.

And since they are on the side of what is right and just, anything they do, no matter how illegal, how immoral, how outwardly and obviously unfair and biased, is justified because the arc of history bends toward justice…or some such nonsense.

There are an estimated 300 million firearms existing in America today.  And I wager that that figure is low.  I would also wager that most armed citizenry would be loath to voluntarily give up their guns – as well as being even more resistant to giving them up under duress.

So there you have it: the left wants to wage war against the most heavily armed populace ever to exist on this planet, and as weapons, leftists are going to use rhetoric and clever metaphors, mellifluously delivered, à la Barry the brilliant.  When Charlton Heston said, “They can have my gun when they pry it from my cold dead hands,” it wasn’t a threat; it was a promise.

It strains credulity that they are using every trick in the book, from opposition research in the form of the Steele dossier to Sally Yates, Bruce Ohr, Andrew McCabe, Strzok, Page, and probably Barack Obama himself, conspiring to sabotage the candidacy and later the presidency of Donald Trump, and they think there will not be a fight from a well armed populace?

Remains to be seen, I guess. I have no doubt that the Founders would have been shocked, dismayed, and angered to see what we’ve quietly surrendered already. As the bumper sticker says, they would have been shooting already. I’m sure there’s any number of doughty old-school Brits who are equally appalled at how far their once-mighty nation has sunk into the mire of ignominy and degradation, without there being any visible signs of righteous uprising there. At some point it’s just too late, and there’s no longer anything left worth the effort of trying to save.

Over here, Hillary!™ was as “moderate” a candidate as the Left will ever accept, and even at that they greatly preferred Bernie the Red—and would have gotten him too, had he not been swindled out of the nomination by the dirtiest, most brazenly corrupt political machine in American history. From here on out, any and every Republican must expect to be savaged and undermined by any and all means Progressivists can contrive, with the active connivance of the Deep State apparatus itself.

The Left probably doesn’t actually want a shooting war, not really. Rather, they don’t expect to get one, and will be surprised indeed if they do. This expectation, right or wrong, means their collective psychotic break over Trump was only the beginning; the response to their next defeat is going to be worse, much worse. Gensert’s conclusion is spot on: this will NOT end well. Not unless these screwballs suddenly discover a wisdom and restraint they’ve shown no sign whatsoever to date of possessing, it won’t.

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Our most powerful weapon

They eat their own, and all we have to do is sit back and let it happen. Because nobody—NOBODY—can ever be Left enough to suit the raving psychos.

Way, way back in the deepest mists of history, circa March 2015, the Starbucks Corporation rolled out an initiative they called “Race Together.” Starbucks CEO Howard Schultz, concerned about the racial divide in America, instructed baristas to scribble the thought-provoking phrase “Race Together” on customers’ cups as a way to “foster discussion.” Because that’s exactly what you want when you’re waiting in line for an overpriced cup of coffee that tastes like it was filtered through a hobo’s liver. You want a lecture about what a racist you are.

After a solid week of razzing back in March 2015, Starbucks put the kibosh on the whole thing. It was a silly but well-meaning effort to do something about a problem that can’t be solved by writing words on coffee cups. So they stopped, and the baristas went back to misspelling your name on your cup, and America found other stuff to freak out about.

Until now! Look at what happened in a Starbucks in Philadelphia last week:

Two African-American guys said they were just waiting for a friend before ordering anything. The manager called the cops, and the two men were arrested.

I’m really confused about whom to believe here. The other customers claim that the two men did nothing wrong. But those other customers are… white. Am I really supposed to take the word of some white folks? You know how those people are.

So now, of course, everybody wants to #BoycottStarbucks. And they’re doing it #ByAnyMeansNecessary.

Okay, kids. I guess you gotta boycott something this week. Might as well make it Starbucks. I #BoycottStarbucks every day already, because their coffee tastes like burnt buttholes. Glad to help.

I hope this fiasco proves instructive to Howard Schultz and everybody else at Starbucks. No matter how liberal you are, no matter how hard you work to establish and maintain your #woke credentials, all it takes is one slip-up. Just one viral video, taken on one of the cameras that we all carry now, and the angry mob will descend on you. Nothing you do or say will appease them. No apology will be sufficient. You can’t grovel low enough.

I don’t much care what happens to Starbucks; as Treacher says, their coffee is awful enough even before the obigatory splash of liberal sanctimony renders it capable of inducing violent regurgitation. Too, I’m just fine with the Progressivist Purity Police turning on their slightly less extreme brethren and tearing them to bloody pieces; it’s less time they can spend on fucking with us, and sometimes mildly amusing as well. So I’m content to more or less ignore the Left’s occasional outburst of ideological cannibalism and just go on with my day.

But this hilarious picture makes the Starbucks tempest in a teapot worthy of notice:


starbucks_philadelphia_4-18-18-1.jpg

Ahh, the idiot Left and their ever-present bullhorns—indoors, no less. Looking at the poor put-upon barista’s stoic resignation to a high-volume hectoring from that bespectacled twerp makes me think that his disillusionment with Progressivist twaddle and his eventual abandonment of it in search of a saner, less self-righteous alternative just might be beginning…right…about…NOW.

Welcome to the Dark Side, bub. It’s much nicer and more relaxed over here, and when we want to indulge any propensity for making loud noises we usually do so at the shooting range, without bothering a single soul.

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Blue wave, Red wave, Purple washout

Schlichter analyzes the coming Big Event.

There is a huge opinion schism between conservatives inside the Beltway who think a midterm Democrat tsunami is coming, and many conservatives outside the swamp, in America, who are not so sure. One thing is certain – the gimp box media and the left’s Fredocon enablers are working overtime to psych us out and make defeat a done deal. But nothing is a done deal. We have six months. The Republicans just need to get smart and fight.

Oh. Well, we’re doomed.

First, the bad news. The liberals are angry and motivated and they are clearly going to vote. The big question is whether they are going to manifest in much higher than usual numbers in patriotic districts now held by Republicans instead of merely running up the score in places the like the shooting gallery districts of Chicago or the feces n’ syringe districts of San Francisco that already go 70% Democrat. So those hellholes double the number of voters and go 80% Democrat? Big whoop.

Yes, the Democrats do have a major advantage in the fact that the Republican establishment, especially in Congress, is largely a gaggle of drooling idiots. From Sissy Sasse to Foamy Marco, these fussy failures seem determined to demoralize the base with their tedious moralizing about how “We are better than that” and “Oh, well I never.” The GOP would have no problem if these dorks had just one tenth the will to win as they do the will to posture for the benefit of a liberal media that hates them and that will disembowel them the moment they stop being useful idiots and become merely idiots.

A bunch of Republicans are retiring, but then a lot of them are squishes who frankly don’t fit with the GOP base anymore. The base now demands results, which make congressing a lot less fun than it used to be.

Actually, I’m a lot less concerned with results than I am that the RepubliQuislings just show fight. The handful of them that aren’t deceitful Deep State collaborators in threadbare mufti, that is. Deep down, Kurt knows this too:

Paul Ryan is leaving too; luckily for the GOP, Nancy Pelosi is not. Ryan’s departure may or may not have to do with him not wanting to be held responsible for November, and it’s a mixed blessing. One on hand, he’s a prodigious fundraiser, and the GOP is raking in the bucks, which is good. But Ryan seems AWOL on the Doing Something front. Oh, wait, he would really like to get DACA done before he leaves, because nothing excites the Republican base like giving illegal aliens amnesty.

If Ryan was the selfless guy we keep hearing about, he would ditch the speakership now and turn it over to someone who wants to get aggressive and get the base excited. But no, because at heart, what is important to the establishment GOP is maintaining their sinecures. Keeping the country conservative, not so much – conservatism is something you yak about during election year but never actually get around to doing. You know, it’s not who we are or something.

Then there is the Trump factor. First, if you saw his CPAC or other recent speeches, you know he’s totally committed to winning the midterms. The guy is a competitor, and they have not beaten him yet. While the DC/NYC axis has decreed that he’s hated and loathed and hated some more, that’s not exactly showing up in the polls. Rasmussen has him at around 50% approval, and the economy is improving just like he promised. Out here, beyond the Beltway, nobody seems to be abandoning Trump.

I repeat: the polls are bunk. They’ve never been right about Trump even once, so why would anyone pay any heed to them now? But then we come to the truly important part, the part which could motivate even as deeply disgusted a FTGOPer as I am to advocate for a big Repuke win before all is said and done:

The disgraceful violation of basic rights that was the Michael Cohen raid – hey, who needs due process or the attorney-client privilege when you’re #resisting? – showed the base what’s really going on. This is serious stuff – if these creeps retake power, what makes anyone think they will ever let it go again?

So November is more than just a political scuffle. It’s existential. When you have Democrat tech titans squealing over the thought of a “civil war” on Republicans and a leftist cultural campaign designed to drive half of the population out of the public sphere, you know it’s important. We either win in November or the most dire hypotheticals of our country being split apart or even in conflict might well migrate from the “Fiction” stacks to the “Non-Fiction” section.

Sobering thought, that is. I hold out very little hope for the possibility of avoiding such a conflict, but as long as any hope at all remains to us, we ought to be trying hard to make the most we can of it.

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The Gunny is gone

Probably the most well-known, revered, and yes, beloved USMC Gunnery Sergeant in history.

R. Lee Ermey, a former Marine Corps drill instructor known to millions of moviegoers as the sadistic Gunnery Sergeant Hartman in Stanley Kubrick’s “Full Metal Jacket,” died Sunday morning, according to his longtime manager. He was 74.

In a statement posted on Twitter, Bill Rogin said Ermey had died due to complications from pneumonia.

A Kansas native, Ermey enlisted in the Marine Corps in 1961 at age 17. He served for 11 years, including 14 months in Vietnam, before he was discharged in 1972. He served as a technical adviser in Francis Ford Coppola’s 1979 Vietnam War epic, “Apocalypse Now,” in which he also had a small role as a helicopter pilot.

But Ermey didn’t get his big break until eight years later, in Kubrick’s own take on Vietnam. He was originally supposed to be a technical adviser, but Kubrick offered him the role of Gunnery Sergeant Hartman after seeing a demo tape of Ermey railing at extras while tennis balls flew at him.

Kubrick told Rolling Stone that 50 percent of Ermey’s dialogue in the film was his own.

“In the course of hiring the marine recruits, we interviewed hundreds of guys. We lined them all up and did an improvisation of the first meeting with the drill instructor. They didn’t know what he was going to say, and we could see how they reacted. Lee came up with, I don’t know, 150 pages of insults,” Kubrick said.

An outspoken conservative, Ermey spoke to Fox News in 2016 about being “blackballed” from Hollywood over his political views.

“I’ve had a very fruitful career. I’ve done over 70 feature films,” he said. “I’ve done over 200 episodes of [Outdoor Channel series ‘GunnyTime’]… and then [Hollywood] found out that I’m a conservative.”

Actually, he corrected, “I’m an Independent, but I said something bad about the president. I had something unsavory to say about the president’s administration, and even though I did vote for him the first time around, I was blackballed.”

Ermey, who was an NRA board member, said at the time that his association with the organization and his disapproval of President Obama cost him acting jobs.

“Do you realize I have not done a movie in five to six years? Why? Because I was totally blackballed by the…liberals in Hollywood,” he alleged. “They can destroy you. They’re hateful people [who] don’t just not like you, they want to take away your livelihood…that’s why I live up in the desert on a dirt road…I don’t have to put up with their crap.”

Yeah, well, that’s a large and entirely honorable club you’re in there, Sergeant. It’s a lead-pipe cinch that your legacy will outlive and outshine theirs by oh, say, a millenia or so. At least.

Unforgettable as his Full Metal Jacket turn surely was, this all-too-brief classic is one of my very favorite Ermey appearances:




Give ’em hell, Gunny.

If the Army and the Navy
Ever look on Heaven’s scenes,
They will find the streets are guarded
By United States Marines.

R Lee Ermey’s place in Heaven’s honor guard is assured. Stand at ease, Marine; rest, even, and smoke ’em if you got ’em. Nobody would dare say a word to you if you did.

Update! Details from Aesop:

Ermey was the living embodiment of every drill instructor actual Marines had, and probably the only one every never-Marine knew. After 11 years service in the Marine Corps, including service in Vietnam, and a stint as an actual drill instructor at MCRD San Diego (with the Thundering Third Recruit Training Battalion – Oohrah!), Ermey was medically discharged due to injuries received in the service, and was an American ex-pat living in the Philippines when he nabbed a bit part in Apocalypse Now. Then an indy movie came to town in 1977, looking for tech advisors and extras in a movie about Marines in Vietnam being shot there, with P.I. doubling very adequately for recently-fallen-to-communists Vietnam.

Barely five years out of the Marines at the time, Ermey was one of those hired as a tech advisor and extra, but the guy they’d cast as the lead drill instructor for the film was a Hispanic with an accent so heavy he was hard to understand easily, and Ermey was crushing his bit part in the gig, so he was hurriedly bumped up to leading character, and the other guy shunted aside.

Boys In Company C was the breakout role that brought Ermey from P.I. to Hollywood, and he never looked back. A small role in Purple Heartssolidified Ermey as the go-to guy when a picture needed a guy harder than woodpecker lips to bring the quintessential Marine sergeant to life on the screen.

And then Stanley Kubrick hired Ermey to be a tech advisor, but quickly re-thought his choice and he too decided to cast Ermey himself as exactly the guy he was looking for to be Gunnery Sergeant Hartman in the otherwise atrocious Full Metal Jacket, and the directing maestro had the great good sense to turn Ermey loose on camera, and let him ad lib whole sections of the movie’s boot camp scenes, comprising the entire first half (the actual coherent part) of the film.

He had parts in over 60 movies and dozens of TV shows, playing everything from Dr. House’s father on that eponymous show, to the voice of the Sarge leading the Green Army men in the Toy Story flicks, and hosting Mail Call and Lock N’ Load cable TV shows as himself for History Channel. 

In between, he was a ceaseless advocate and military booster, which work induced the Commandant of the Marine Corps to authorize an official honorary promotion to Gunnery Sergeant for Ermey in 2002, the sort of the thing the Marines ordinarily simply do not do. But when you’re that exceptional, you can even get meritoriously promoted after being discharged.

If you served in the Marines, you knew a gunny like the Gunny, or had one for your D.I., and because of his work in entertainment, he will live long after the last Marine he ever served with passes on to Fiddler’s Green.

And as he would have told anyone, the Corps did pretty good by him, turning a juvenile delinquent into a leader of men, and finally a cultural icon for the ages.

Forty years lived in a life formed from the mold of eleven years’ active service proves the literal truth of the phrase, 
Once A Marine, Always A Marine.

True, dat. I never was in the military myself; I let my dad talk me out of going into the Navy at nineteen, a road not taken that I think back on and wonder about from time to time still. But I have enough family and close friends who were in to be able to easily recognize a former Marine whenever I see one. For whatever reason, the Corps imbues almost all of its young recruits with a steel that time never seems able to melt or weaken, no matter how long (or briefly) they may wind up serving.

I won’t offer the words “Semper Fi” in tribute to Ermey; I ain’t qualified, no matter good my intentions might be. But I hereby doff my cap just the same, in respect to Ermey and to every Marine.

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Fuck you—WAR

While we’re talking about Codevilla and all.

Political-war-by-accusation-of-crime is common in the world. As a rule—Charles de Gaulle was not the first to note it—“peoples are moved only by elemental sentiments, violent images, brutal invocations.”

But in America, political war used to be rare. The Federalist Papers begin thus: “it seems to have been reserved to the people of this country, by their conduct and example, to decide the important question, whether societies of men are really capable or not of establishing good government from reflection and choice.”

Was America ever ruled by reason? For the most part, and relative to the rest of the world, yes it was. How did this come to be? In 1816, Thomas Jefferson answered: “our functionaries have done well, because… if any were [inclined to do otherwise], they feared to show it.” In short, America was exceptional because the American people were exceptional. 

Today, Americans seem to be regressing to humanity’s sad norm.

Once again: not accident, not coincidence, not happenstance.

The 2016 election campaign gives insights, positive and negative. The majority of Americans’ sentiment that the ruling class has been warring against their way of life in word and deed overshadowed all issues. Donald Trump led from the beginning because his words showed the same disdain toward the bipartisan high and mighty that they, in turn, show to the rest of Americans. His (relatively mild) “brutal invocations and violent images” called forth the most elemental of sentiments: Your detractors are bad, you are good. Consequently, people who felt demeaned and pushed around by their pretend-betters came to feel that although Trump shared the ruling class’s culture more than their own, at least a Trump presidency would not threaten them; and that perhaps Trump might be their champion. Trump’s presidency lived up to minimal expectations. His administration is not leading the media’s, the judges’, the bureaucrats’, the corporate executives’ continuing war on ordinary Americans.

But that war is unabated because the power of the people who degraded our lives in their own image is undiminished. For them, the rest of America is and will remain irredeemable. They well nigh removed Christianity and Judaism from the public square. Their schools have dumbed down a generation. They reduced raising children within marriage to a vanishing majority in the country at large and to a rarity among blacks. They have filled our streets with criminals. Their corporations try dictating what people may say and even think. They have stigmatized the verbal currency of two centuries, and bid to outlaw it as hate speech. And they continue to tighten their vise. In the process, however, these rulers are convincing the rest of Americans that they are irredeemable as well.

When one side rejects persuasion in favor of war, what are the other’s options?

Nobody likes war; nobody wants war. But as with Muslim terrorism, when war is brought to one’s doorstep, there can be but two options: victory, or defeat. To insist on remaining above the fray in hopes of preserving one’s genteel “diginity” is a tacit acceptance of defeat, whether one likes it or not.

Codevilla goes into some interesting and unexpected places with this. I’m not sure I agree completely with all of the ideas he comes up with; some of them are damned good, if unlikely to actually come to pass. Being Codevilla, all of them are worth a look anyway. For my money, his biggest error comes right at the end:

The ruling class has conquered commanding heights over every part of American society. Because, as it did so, this class convinced itself unalterably that the rest of us are a lower class of beings, re-conquering those heights could not restore citizenship among us.

The ruling class didn’t “convince itself” of anything “as it did so.” The belief in our innate inferiority—of the absolutely necessity of micro-managing the lives of the Great Unwashed “for their own good”—was baked right into the cake from the outset; it is Progressivism’s most fundamental tenet. Without that arrogant presumption, Progressivism would not and could not exist at all. None of us should be fooling ourselves for a second that they’re the least bit likely to give it up, or to accept any resistance to it from the likes of us.

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You can thank me later…

For some reason, the fine American Greatness site doesn’t provide author-page links on its main page, or not that I’ve ever been able to unearth anyway. I finally managed to tease ’em out via some extra-sneaky circuitous navigation just the same, so I’m thinking I’ll put links to Codevilla and Mike Walsh, at least, somewhere in the sidebar here where they might come in handy for you fine folks. I have some past-due blogroll updating to do anyway, so look for the links over there as soon as I can carve out a spare minute or three to get it done for ya.

Because I CARE, that’s why.

Update! Annnnd they’re up, in the “Essayists” section. Like I said, y’all can maybe thank me later if you wish…during next week’s annual CF Spring Fundraiser, say. Ahem.

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The road goes ever on

Bop till you drop.

In the future, classic rock bands will melt into one another.

Actually, this is already happening. It’s like when people talk about global warming as a future threat to civilization when the polar ice caps have already largely disappeared. Classic rock bands have similarly lost members to retirement, personal differences, or, well, you know, permanent retirement. But because the brands are still strong, these bands have gone to extraordinary, sometimes deeply weird lengths to install new parts and keep on trucking.

Remember when the surviving members of the Grateful Dead hired John Mayer to replace Jerry Garcia and became Dead And Company? Or when AC/DC tapped Axl Rose to take over for Brian Johnson? This week, Lindsey Buckingham either quit or was fired from Fleetwood Mac on the eve of an upcoming tour. Taking his place will be Mike Campbell, formerly Tom Petty’s right-hand man in the Heartbreakers, and Neil Finn of the Australian pop-rock group Crowded House.

Does any of this make sense? Sure, I guess? You only live once, right?

What’s different now is that these classic rock bands are no longer in their primes. It doesn’t feel like Fleetwood Mac is recharging with new members before making another Rumours, just like nobody expects AC/DC to make another Back In Black with Axl Rose or John Mayer to become a new shaman for hippies everywhere from his perch in the Dead. These are marriages of convenience, ensuring that everyone can continue to live comfortably well into their senior years by catering to an insatiable market for nostalgia tours and $50 tour T-shirts.

Actually, it’s a lot more than just that. It’s a burning desire to get out there and play while they still can, however they can—to stand on that stage under the lights and bask in the crash of the drums, the thunder of the guitars, and the roar of the crowd.

And why the hell not? Over the years, lots of people have spoken to me in bemused wonder about “how much you must love it, to keep doing it for so long and all!” I always told ’em that, for a lot of us, it ain’t about loving it at all. You could even say that love has little if anything to do with it after a certain point, although it surely begins that way. But over time, it becomes much more than something you do; it’s who you are. You don’t love it, not exactly. You simply can’t not do it. If you aren’t doing it, you’re thinking about it.

You never feel more at home, more comfortable, more like your truest self, than when you’re on a stage making music for a crowd of folks who are enjoying it right along with you—dancing, shouting, swaying, screaming. Saying it’s like food or oxygen to you might be a bit of a stretch, but the hunger is real just the same, and you definitely do feel an emptiness in its absence. The assumption that you’ll be out there doing it again before too long goes way down deep into your bones, a given, sure as the sunrise. You take that next time out as read, without conscious thought, just like you expect to take your next breath.

Sooner or later, though, we all reach the stage where we start to break down physically and just can’t do it anymore, at least not on the level we’re accustomed to, wish to, and feel that the music deserves. I’m there already, sad to say, despite my having figured in my youth on being wheeled up onstage and propped up with a stick or something right til the very end. I’m weak and feeble now; the last few times I played I had to do so sitting down. Which is very damned demoralizing, let me tell ya—especially in light of the intensely kinetic, physically demanding shows the Playboys put on night after night for decades.

After a properly explosive Playboys show, I was completely exhausted, drained to the last dregs. My thigh muscles ached, my knees were trembly; often as not, my fingers were bloody and my throat raw enough to make me think it was too. My neck was stiff, as was the shoulder the guitar strap went over. I was soaked with sweat, so much so that I usually brought another shirt to put on afterwards.

It was SOOOO DAMNED GOOOOOD. Best feeling in the world, nothing remotely like it. I always said if it was a choice between giving up that or sex, it was a no-brainer. Sex didn’t even rate on the same scale.

Now I get that worn out just from carrying my amp into the venue.

My hands have become stiff, aching, arthritic claws, so painful they frequently wake me up at night. Especially the left one, which has made it necessary to re-learn and re-jigger how I play most songs and simply abandon others altogether. Certain of the most basic, fundamental chords are lost to me forever, I just can’t play them. Likewise with the singing; the power and the range just aren’t there like they used to be anymore. After thirty years of slap bass, my brother can’t lift his left arm above a right angle to his body, and his right hand is in even worse shape than mine. Our drummer used to bang those things so hard he’d just destroy heads, cymbals, and sticks with a quickness. He’s probably beat up worse than the rest of us, and in more spots too. Chipps, the rhythm guitarist, is the only one of us who still seems to be in good shape, a miracle considering how ferociously he went at it. Still has all his hair too, the bastard.

The damage done, the limitations that come inevitably with age, now make playing less satisfying and more an exercise in frustration and outright pain. It’s a bitter realization when infirmity has crept up and leeched all the joy out of what for so long was your entire raison d’etre, let me tell ya. You knew it was coming; you try to accept it with whatever grace and humility you can, which doesn’t mean you have to like it. That’s the way of the world; it comes to us all sooner or later, and no amount of argument, protest, pouting, or complaint is gonna change it. Not for me, not for you, not for anybody. Rage, rage against the dying of the light? For what? You make yourself look a fool, inflict unhappiness on yourself and others, and wind up in the exact same place anyhow. Better to retain a little dignity for yourself, seems to me.

What the hell, I had a good run. And I still got an incredible store of memories, at least until senility scrambles them all to hell and gone too. I really need to take another stab at writing a book about it all, if only just a straight, dry memoir (I tried once several years ago, as a novelization of sorts, and quickly gained a profound respect for novelists). I promise you, I could set out to write it just as bloodless and without passion or flair as possible and it would STILL be good. Trust me.

So yeah, more power to those old greybeard rockers out there who still burn with the old flame, and can still strike at least some sparks on a stage. I’ll never knock or second-guess ’em; I know for damned sure it ain’t about the money or some shallow, vain pursuit of departed glory, and is occasion for neither contempt nor pity. It’s about holding onto whatever pieces of your best self you still got, for as long as you can manage it—about making your aspirations take flight again, before you finally lose your wings for good. As long as those guys can crank it out credibly, at a level of artistic competence and panache they’re happy with, then keep on rockin’, I say. I saw most of the classic rock/hard rock bands back in the day, and there’s more than one I wouldn’t object to seeing again in their dotage.

Say, I wonder what my hero Ritchie Blackmore has been up to lately…?

(Via Ed)

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Lawless thuggery

The Deep State fights back.

There is no way to sugarcoat it – especially after the lawless invasion of the attorney-client privilege by fancy-suited thugs, if President Donald Trump sits down and talks to Robert Mueller and his pack of Democrat donor corruptocrats, he’s an idiot.

Understatement of the year, that is. But I’m not sure now that he ever did have any real intention of doing it.

Instead, he needs to take his case to the people – because a blind man can see that he’s being framed.

If Trump talks to Mueller, Mueller will be laughing at him, but on the inside. On the outside, he’ll keep up that beaten beagle visage of his, roaring at how he outsmarted the man who outsmarted all the Smartest People in the World and who therefore assumes he can somehow “win” his interview.

But Trump can’t win. The fix is in. Raiding Michael Cohen’s office was the icing on an all-icing cake. This is not justice. This is an attempt to claw back power for the disenfranchised elite no matter what it takes, and no one – not the president, not me, and not you, should pretend these hacks deserve any deference or respect.

What they deserve, from each and every real American, is unwavering, implacable, ruthless enmity. They are brazenly and audaciously attempting a coup, now right out in broad daylight. They tried to subvert the American people’s right to a say in their own governance via free and fair election, by clandestinely rigging a presidential election. Having failed, they spent a year undermining and defying the winner, and now seek to overthrow the legitimate President by any means they can contrive. They are traitors not one whit less than Benedict Arnold, Alger Hiss, Aldrich Ames, and Robert Hanssen were. They deserve to be treated as the treasonous scum they are.

Continue reading “Lawless thuggery”

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Hopeful portents

The beginning of the end, or the end of the beginning?

I coined the term “Permanent Bipartisan Fusion Party” to describe the unholy bond between Republicans and Democrats in Washington, who have long existed in a kind of incestuous, sado-masochistic relationship in which each of them knows their place and, after a fashion, enjoys it.

On the one hand we have the largely regnant Evil Party, congressionally ascendant during the long reign of FDR and Harry Truman, which has since the 1970s gradually morphed into the anti-American “progressive” party devoted to perverting the Constitution and undermining the foundational principles of the republic in the name of discovering their “real,” if occult meaning. And on the other, the Stupid Party, which never met a promise it didn’t want to dishonor, a foreign war it didn’t want to fight, or a domestic fight it didn’t want to throw.

Despite his promising beginning as a policy wonk and charter member of the “Young Guns,” Ryan had become the face of the BPFP, a man who believed in the correctness of his policies but who never enjoyed being the tip of the spear—much less being on the receiving end of one. With all eyes and hopes upon him in 2012, there he was, sitting calmly by as a gibbering idiot named Joe Biden grimaced and guffawed his way through the vice-presidential debate, showering Ryan with sucker punches and spitballs and getting absolutely no payback in return.

When Ryan reluctantly stepped into the speaker’s chair owing to John Boehner’s sudden retirement, he had another chance to show he had the stomach, if not the appetite, for political combat, not to mention for the third-highest office in the land. But after promising to end Obamacare upon his party’s return to congressional dominance, he failed to deliver. The two wave elections of 2010 and 2014 gave the GOP what it said it needed…and nothing happened. And at that moment, the junior wing of the BPFP was doomed.

I know what you’re all asking yourselves right about now: does Kevin Williamson tie into this somehow? Why yes, actually. Yes, he surely does. Continue reading “Hopeful portents”

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The coming unpleasantness

In decrying the Great Schism (ie, the prospective partition of the country) in five simple steps, Aesop reels off a good ‘un:

3) There isn’t going to be any “amicable divorce”. The phrase is an oxymoron equal to “military intelligence”, “government help”, and “jumbo shrimp”.

He then proffers a link to a fellow I hadn’t heard of before who, for his sins, will immediately be cast into the Outer Darkness of the CF blogroll:

Continue reading “The coming unpleasantness”

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Why they REALLY hate him

I’ve always maintained that Trump is damned smart. But can he possibly be this smart?

President Trump’s tactical moves are widely publicized by the media. Now, more than one year after assuming the presidency, enough data have been accumulated to define Trump’s strategy with a certain degree of accuracy.

What is his main task? Where is the vector of his primary efforts directed?

Opposition publications represent Trump’s actions as absolute chaos — constant and unpredictable reshuffling in the government, increasing external taxes (tariffs) and reducing domestic taxes, restrictions on immigration, the deliberate disintegration of ObamaCare, and withdrawal from the Paris climate agreement. This list is quite extensive. And almost every day the press receives a gift from Trump, another bone — he declares something politically incorrect on Twitter again, or he fires someone, or orders to strike another country with 60 Tomahawk missiles. The biased media has to abandon covering a subject that seemed relevant yesterday, and switches to a discussion of a more recent “scandal.”

This is all reminiscent of the actions of a skillful magician who deliberately draws the attention of the audience to his left hand at a time when his right hand is making the most imperceptible movement for which the whole trick was conceived.

So what’s the intrigue?

In fact, Trump’s policy is very tricky, and only a few have figured out his game. After all, Trump did not target immigrants. He did not target international trade. He did not target women’s rights. He did not target “global climate change.”

Trump is swinging at the complete destruction of the Democratic Party by gradually squeezing the Democrats out of the American political arena.

That is how Trump used to deal with competitors in the construction business, and he is not about to change his habits. The complete bankruptcy of competitors is the only real measure of success for him. He knows this very well, having been in the shoes of the defeated several times.

Gindler lays out a very strong case, of which you should read the all. Just the fact that Trump has retaken the initiative from the Demonrats and moved the Republicans from their comfy defensive crouch onto the offensive—dragged them, more like, since most of them have been bitterly recalcitrant and uncooperative—should maybe tell us something. Doesn’t hurt any that the Democrat Socialists, having descended into complete batshit lunacy after flirting for decades around its ragged edges, are providing an assist in their own overdue demise, either.

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Careful what you wish for Part the Eleventymillionth

Schichter expands on the topic of my previous post, which I figured was long enough as it was.

As I have shown before, they dream of an America where they can crush all dissent from their orthodoxy, and I’m not playing that.
 
They want to silence you too, and every other patriot. But that’s a short-sighted tactic because people who are silenced, particularly uppity Americans who take their natural rights seriously, won’t just shrug and give up. They will stew and fume at the injustice of their oppression and then they will radicalize and then, because they have been wrongfully denied access to the means of participation in the governance of their own society, they will inevitably exercise their power in the only way left to them. They will rebel. They have before. Sometimes it’s peaceful – like by electing Donald Trump. But if peaceful doesn’t work, they are going to give not being peaceful a try. That’s just human nature.

The liberal plan for civil war does not take into account how prosperous states like Texas went hard right in the 90s and show no sign of changing colors, and there is no mention of how Republicans hold more elected offices today than at any time in history. Well, as any successful general knows, when faced with unpleasant realities you ignore them and hope it all somehow works out.

Or not.

In the end, the “civil war” is going to be won, according to the warplan for Operation CARACAS REDUX, when America just sort of opts to be like Cali and elects all Democrats. Why would it do that? That part remains unclear. Part of it is because it is obvious that Democrats care so much more for the workin’ man, but apparently no one asked the workin’ men because the workin’ man voted for The Donald.  Also, people really care that the weather in a century might be slightly warmer, so there’s that. None of these are really good reasons. Their warplan seems to be, “Wish hard, and it will be so.” 

A much more realistic scenario is the country splitting apart, probably with some level of violence. That’s not a wish, though that won’t stop the liberal liars from claiming it is. Ignore what they say and watch what they do. Liberals are repudiating the entire idea of rights and democracy in favor of an ideology that embraces their own elite rule by decree. That they admit that it is impossible to reconcile our rights and our self-determination with their lust for unchallenged power is the one accurate thing in the liberal “civil war” game plan. 

They are correct when they say “[i]n this current period of American politics, at this juncture in our history, there’s no way that a bipartisan path provides the way forward.” Yep, true. They are also correct when they observe that, “America today does exhibit some of the core elements that move a society from what normally is the process of working out political differences toward the slippery slope of civil war.” Yep, also true, and it ought to scare the hell out of them.

A whole lot of heartache and strife could easily be avoided if they really were as smart as they think they are, rather than as ignorant and bullheaded as they believe us to be.

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California dreamin’

Actually, these nitwits aren’t ENTIRELY wrong.

The next time you call for bipartisan cooperation in America and long for Republicans and Democrats to work side by side, stop it. Remember the great lesson of California, the harbinger of America’s political future, and realize that today such bipartisan cooperation simply can’t get done.

In this current period of American politics, at this juncture in our history, there’s no way that a bipartisan path provides the way forward.

Perfectly correct so far. But being libtards, they immediately go off the rails entirely.

The way forward is on the path California blazed about 15 years ago.

Umm. Uhh, yeah. Right. Thanks and all, but, well…NO.

Continue reading “California dreamin’”

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War without end

Cui bono?

Good for Trump. The job of the military is to win, and thus finish, wars, not to use them as extended live-fire exercises. Further, under our Constitution, the military reports to civilian authority, in the form of the president and one of his chief cabinet members, the secretary of defense. And it’s their job to make very clear the overall strategic objective, which in warfare is always optimally the total destruction and unconditional surrender of the enemy. During World War II, the objective was clear: destroy Imperial Japan and take Berlin. We, and our allies, did both, and America’s war—from the standing start at Pearl Harbor to VJ Day—lasted less than four years.

But that’s not how our contemporary military sees things. As the Post story points out, referencing Defense Secretary James Mattis, “His remarks reflected a broader Pentagon consensus: In the absence of a clear outcome, winning for much of the U.S. military’s top brass has come to be synonymous with staying put. These days, senior officers talk about ‘infinite war’.”

Those senior officers should be cashiered. “Infinite war” is what characterized the Roman Empire from Julius Caesar (read the Commentaries, Caesar’s reports back to Rome regarding his military operations in Gaul and elsewhere) through Marcus Aurelius (who spent very little time in the Eternal City) right up to the fall of Rome in 476, when the barbarian chickens came home to roost in the form of Odoacer, a member of the Germanic tribes that the Romans never managed to conquer. Their defeat by Arminius at the Battle of the Teutoberg Forest in 9 A.D. dissuaded the legions from crossing the Rhine again—but eventually the Rhine crossed them, and made it all the way to the Tiber.

The moral of the story is: finish the job. So good for Trump for giving the Pentagon a strategic objective and a time frame in which to accomplish it. The Posts article quotes another officer, Air Force General Mike Holmes, in a speech earlier this year: “It’s not losing,” he explained. “It’s staying in the game and…pursuing your objectives.”

How terrifying to know that, for some senior military officers (who, by the way, are not necessarily on the Right politically), warfare is about “staying in the game.”

It would seem that for our politicized general-officer class, at least, it IS a game. It’s disappointing to hear Mattis sounding like one of them, at least in the above quote. One would think that he more than most would recognize the damage done by the conversion of America’s once-dominant military into Welcome Wagon in cammies—a top-heavy bureaucracy that emphasizes “nation-building” over crushing America’s adversaries, political correctness over combat readiness, and over-reliance on technology over a hard-nosed warrior ethos.

We as a nation don’t even seem to know what “victory” is anymore, and aren’t terribly fussed over it either way. Our squeamishishness about civilian casualties and “collateral damage” leaves us incapable of doing what’s required to prevail against committed foes unburdened by any such vacillation or lack of will. Juvenile, simple-minded shibboleths declaring that our enemies “love their children as much as we do” or that “it will be a great day when the schools have all the money they need and the Air Force has to hold a bake sale to buy a bomber” aren’t just nonsensical and irrelevant. They’re dangerous.

“War isn’t healthy for children and other living things”? Well, no shit, Einstein. Exactly who ever said it was? Nobody likes war; nobody wants war. Sadly, though, Trotsky had the right of it: you may not be interested in war. But war is interested in you.

Throughout history, all military organizations have been made up of far more staff, support, and logistics personnel than actual fighting men. But US armed forces have exaggerated that statistical imbalance to a near-preposterous extreme, then smeared a triple-thick layer of lawyers on top who must be consulted before soldiers are even allowed to carry loaded weapons in combat zones, much less point them at anybody who might be shooting at them at the time.

We have sailors who can’t navigate on the high seas without colliding with other ships. 74 percent of Marine Corps F18s are graded “not ready for combat”; over 53 percent of Navy strike fighters are “out of service.” Parts to repair these expensive door-stops are being scavenged from museums and gutted, rust-bucket display aircraft. Pilots get most of their training in simulators rather than the stick-time in actual aircraft they badly need.

Doughy, gasping recruits can’t meet long-established physical readiness requirements for infantry? Too many female recruits can’t hack the program because their upper-body strength just isn’t up to snuff due to inherent male-female genetic differences? Fine, just lower standards across the board then. Mentally-ill “transgender” types want to join so they can get their expensive hormone treatments and surgeries paid for on the military dime? Hey, who are we to deny them their Constitutionally-guaranteed “right” (ahem) to sign up, then?

It’s the same soft-headed, feel-good mindset that brought us “participation trophies” for schoolkid athletics…on the rare occasions their all-important self-esteem was ever put at hazard by competition at all, of any kind. Ask any kid who got “graded on a curve” how much he really learned sometime. Quiz him on things most adults would consider to be the simplest, most basic knowledge. Prepare to be appalled.

Jerry-rigged, antiquated equipment worn down by an unsustainable operational tempo; untrained, unmotivated, and/or unfit troops; a politicized senior officer class more interested in political correctness than fighting and winning, incapable of seeing “open-ended commitment” for the deadly tar-baby it is; political “leadership” whose “invade the world/invite the world” mentality leaves them eager to flex American muscle in far-flung places where there is no compelling national interest at stake—the whole mess tolerated by a disinterested citizenry lulled by blind faith in a perpetual American military superiority that long ago ceased to exist. Anybody still wondering why America can’t seem to win any of its endless, innumerable “conflicts” anymore?

The smug assumption of our lapsed “lone superpower” status and the unchallengeable invincibility of the American military persists in defiance of the sad, sorry reality. None of this, mind, is meant to suggest that there aren’t many skilled, dedicated, and highly competent soldiers, sailors, airmen, and Marines out there. There surely are, and we should be extremely thankful for them. Ultimately, they’re struggling against the same dismal tide of feckless liberalism that threatens to swamp American culture entire. A way needs to be found to stem the flow before we all drown.

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The truth, at last

After having been buried for almost fifty years.

The new film “Chappaquiddick” is, to date, the most brutal and honest account of what happened that night. But it’s also something else: an indictment of our collective hero worship at the altar of Brand Kennedy, which bred so much corrosive entitlement that surviving brother Ted, the family beta male, went home to sleep it off after leaving a loyal young staffer to die alone.

As portrayed by Jason Clarke, the young senator is a venal, self-pitying coward, thoughtless and remorseless, ambition his only care. He treats loyalists and groupies with equal contempt, and as the weekend begins, he toasts them all for “wanting to prove yourselves worthy of…the Kennedy name.”

The film depicts Ted as drinking and driving before his black Oldsmobile 88 flies off a small wooden bridge and into a pond, crash-landing upside down.

According to contemporaneous accounts, the tide was dead low, the water only 5 or 6 feet deep. Both of the passenger-side windows were blown out. Kennedy later testified that Mary Jo might have been hitting or kicking him in her frantic struggle to escape. He claimed to have gone back under for her six or seven times but there is no proof. He was seen at 2:25 a.m. in dry clothes by a hotel desk clerk.

When Mary Jo’s body was recovered the next morning, it appeared that she died not of drowning but suffocation. She likely lived for hours. There she had been, her head and neck jammed at a sharp angle up against the foot board, gasping through a small air pocket. Was she wondering where Kennedy was? Was she convinced he was on the verge of coming back for her? That he had gone to get help?

After all, who would leave someone in this situation alone? Least of all someone who had suffered so much loss so young?

Ted Kennedy passed by nearby lighted homes and the local fire department as he walked back to his inn, away from the pond he’d later claim was deep and at high tide. He slept that night as Mary Jo took her last breaths.

The next morning, Ted refused to appear at the scene when summoned, demanding that the chief of police come down to the station. There, the chief finds Kennedy behind the cop’s own desk, reading a carefully worded statement. He doesn’t mention Mary Jo by her full name because he doesn’t know how to spell “Kopechne.”

Ten hours had passed since the car went in the water.

But Ted’s only concern is that he’ll never be president. Criminal charges don’t concern him, nor does he ever consider he might go to prison. He is, after all, a Kennedy.

Ted flees the island, helps block an autopsy, and attends Mary Jo’s funeral wearing a fake neck brace. For a time, he considers blaming the dead girl and telling the police that she was driving. Instead he blames the bridge, he claims exhaustion, he tells The New York Times he has a concussion and is on sedatives until The Times reporter informs him no doctor would ever give sedatives to someone who’s concussed.

In the end, Ted Kennedy pled to nothing more than leaving the scene of an accident and received a suspended sentence of two months’ jail time. He would never be president, but he spent the rest of his life held in high esteem by the Democratic party. When he died in 2009, Chappaquiddick and Mary Jo Kopechne were barely mentioned. Instead he was canonized by the Senate as its Liberal Lion, a fighter for the poor, the dispossessed and, yes, women.

The Kennedy family consists of unleavened scum almost to a man, and Ted was the scummiest of them all. Incredibly, though, the callous, self-serving negligence that caused Kopechne’s death was only the beginning of a long, storied career of abuse, immorality, criminality, and outright treason, from “waitress sandwiches” to innumerable dirty Senate deals to his clandestine trip to the Soviet Union to plead with Andropov for help in rigging the 1994 election and make him president.

The man was filth, a pustule, utter swine. He was a groteque perversion of the ideal of manhood, bereft of redeeming quality. If he ever committed a truly selfless or altruistic act, I never have heard of it. That his existence as a creature at liberty to indulge his every whim was tolerated by his fellows disgraces the very idea of human decency; that he never for a moment feared a legal reckoning of any kind for his loathsome depredations makes a mockery of any notion of justice and renders the principle of equality before the law a nauseating joke. That he remains a revered, cherished icon for the Democrat Socialist Party, their liberal-media handmaidens (who perpetuated the “Camelot” lie for decades, and still are), and Progressivists generally certifies their depraved iniquity better than any other single thing could.

Every man Jack of those diseased reprobates is well-slimed by the Kennedy sleaze. But Teddy still tops ’em all, and not by just a little bit. It’s great that the real story of Chappaquiddick is out there for mass-audience consumption at last. It’s appalling—and damning—that it only took fifty fucking years before it finally got done.

“The Lion of the Senate” lived far too long, and enjoyed a life spent wallowing in decadence, unearned affluence, privilege, and complete indifference to the harm he did to others without care or consequence far more than was just. If God could forgive him, then He is great indeed. Kennedy can roast in Hell for all eternity without succor or surcease for all me.

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"America is at that awkward stage. It's too late to work within the system, but too early to shoot the bastards." – Claire Wolfe, 101 Things to Do 'Til the Revolution

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