Cold Fury

Harshing your mellow since 9/01

Damn dirty apes hippies


Years ago, Tom Wolfe published a funny piece dealing with the reappearance during the Summer of Love of diseases never seen in the modern epoch. Wolfe’s overall term for these disorders was, if I recall correctly, “The Crud.” Doctors were unfamiliar with these conditions and in some cases uncertain as to how to treat them. Some of those children of nature ended up with chronic disorders.

This served as a life lesson for the counterculture, most of whom resumed bathing. But now, fifty years later, we – at least those of us in California – are about to receive another such lesson, this one more drastic and widespread.

Over the past year or so, AT readers have derived quite a few laughs over what has come to be called the “s‑‑‑ map,” a map of the neighborhoods of San Francisco in which the streets are inundated with human waste left by the homeless. (Some commentators assumed that the map was intended as a warning to tourists. But in fact, its creator has recently added a comment asserting that it is intended to “bring attention to the issue of homelessness.” Thanks very much.)

Currently unknown in the industrialized West (most doctors have never seen a case), cholera was a filth-based disease caused by human and animal waste and nothing else. Originating in the Ganges delta, cholera spread across the planet until, in the 19th century, it was a standard feature of urban life. Cholera epidemics were chronic, breaking out wherever sewage mixed with drinking water. Cholera was an oddity among diseases in that it often progressed with no visible symptoms. An individual showing no symptoms at all could suddenly collapse at noon and be dead by sundown.

Cholera still exists in the Third World. According to the WHO, the most recent pandemic broke out of South Asia in 1961 and reached the Americas by the 1990s. “Cholera is now endemic in many countries.”

We will also point out that the city of San Francisco is a sanctuary city, or, in the words of the ordinance itself, “a City and County of Refuge.” That is, San Francisco has put out the welcome mat for tens of thousands of third-world illegals. The city has made itself a magnet for refugees from countries with no modern sewage systems and no tradition of personal hygiene – the same countries in which the WHO asserts that cholera has become “endemic.”

So put these two factors together – streets engulfed in human s‑‑‑ and immigrants from countries overrun with infectious diseases – and what do we get?

No more than we—they, rather—deserve. In the Left’s case, for being idiots. In our case, for putting up so long with their…ummm, shit.


Make it stop!

My God, but the EGO on this douchebag.

Former President Barack Obama and first lady Michelle Obama are negotiating a major production deal with Netflix, The New York Times reported on Thursday night.

The pending deal would bring exclusive content from the Obamas to the streaming site’s 118 million subscribers. It was not immediately clear what types of content they would deliver to the site, but Eric Schultz, a former adviser to the president told the Times: “President and Mrs. Obama have always believed in the power of storytelling to inspire.”

One possible show idea, the newspaper said, could involve Obama discussing topics that were germane to his policies as president — including health care, voting rights, and immigration, The Times said.

Those topics comprise portions of the legislative agenda he exercised during his time in the White House — many of which President Donald Trump has sought to roll back since he took office last year.

May I suggest a title? “Vital Social Issues ‘N’ Stuff, with Barky.” Sure, it’s lifted from Kelly Bundy’s short-lived show on Married With Children. But I’m confident His Majesty’s show will be of comparable quality and worth, if nowhere near as enjoyable to watch.

Despite my expectation that watching the abominable thing will be capable of inflicting actual, physical pain on saner sorts, I’m equally confident that Oshitstain will have a dismaying number of palpitating, worshipful droolcases eager to tune in and lap up his every lecture—his maddening drone falling on their ears like the sweet singing of angels, stimulating them into quivering, weeping near-catatonia. Like, say, this idiot.

It’s easy to look at what’s happening in Washington DC and despair. That’s why I carry a little plastic Obama doll in my purse. I pull him out every now and then to remind myself that the United States had a progressive, African American president until very recently. Some people find this strange, but you have to take comfort where you can find it in Donald Trump’s America.

That was belched forth by some dizzy bint in the course of touting the anticipated (by her) Blue Wave, wherein soothing memories of the earthly rein of her Lord and Savior Obama will inspire millions of normal Americans to vote in favor of re-impoverishing themselves, re-unemploying themselves, re-taxing themselves into penury, and re-subjecting themselves to endless hectoring, harassment, and random violent assault by freaks, illegal aliens, perverts, street bums, criminal thugs, gun-grabbers, Marxists, Antifa fascists, Al Franken, Mexican gangbangers, crooked career politicians, Harvey Weinstein, Muslim rapefugees, duly-deputized shadow minions of the Deep State, and assorted other dysfunctional malcontents, psychopaths, and creepazoids. IE, the Democrat-Socialist constituency en bloc.

And then, when the victims of these reprobates are desirous of the healing balm of diverting entertainment to ease the pain of their financial, spiritual, and physical wounds, they can sit back on the couch, tune in Netflix, and subject themselves to a pantload of sniffy condescension from His Majesty himself reminding them that it’s all their fault because America Sucks That’s Why, and that he’s very disappointed in the way they’ve let him down. Again.

Whatever Obama-licking liberal butt-boy conceived this devil’s deal with the Clown Prince Of Darkness to turn Netflix into O-TV ought to have his ass beat like a drum seven days a week, and twice on Sunday. Hopefully the ratings will handle that chore for us, if only in the figurative sense.


Cucks gotta cuck

I tire of this shit. I really, really do.

“Study: 90 percent of Americans Strongly Opposed To Each Other.” That’s the headline on a story in what on some days seems America’s most reliable news outlet, the Onion.

We laugh (or at least I did) because it strikes a chord. Americans of many different political outlooks today seem united in believing that we are experiencing the worst times in the nation’s history. Trump detractors talk about a neurotic Nazi establishing a dictatorship. Trump fans talk about a “Deep State” using secret protocols to undermine the voters’ choice.

Both sides have some cause for complaint.

Oh, they do, do they? The Deep State obviously, incontrovertibly exists; the evidence of its ongoing campaign to “undermine the voters’ choice” is voluminous and beyond reasonable debate by now, a matter of public record that even its Leftymedia vanguard openly confesses in its recent reportage. So…mind telling me exactly where we might find “cause” supporting the preposterous and offensive smearing of Trump as a “Nazi establishing a dictatorship,” O Judicious and Even-Handed One?

One of these things is NOT like the other. The alacrity with which NeverTrump cucks like Barone leap to humbly demonstrate their fair-mindedness, their willingness to give “serious” consideration to absurd-on-its-face Leftard horseshit, is how the feeble, docile sheep got themselves Trumped in the first place. They bare their throats for the liberal knife again and again and again, then are shocked—SHOCKED!—by all the blood on the floor. They pointlessly overanalyze and obsess over arcane minutia, their dignified droning and belching drowned out by the baying of the Deep State’s tireless jackals.

And then they profess themselves baffled as to how anyone could be so ill-bred a lout as to prefer a bare-knuckle brawler to their own ineffectual mincing and posturing—to see to it that our antagonists are the ones doing the bleeding, for a refreshing change. You prefer winning to losing genteely? Why, you ruffians! You scalawags! YOU BARBARIANS!

Barone’s larger point admittedly stands, though, along with the Onion’s. The divide is real, deep, and unbridgeable. It’s profound, and it is right that this should be so. The lines are stark and clear, drawn with a scalpel. The struggle between Left totalitarianism and Constitutional governance is one not to be shied from but embraced. It is the noblest of fights, tyranny against liberty, and ought to be embraced with vigor and joy, regarded not as a burden or misfortune but as a privilege and a sacred duty. Mercifully, there remains a valid hope that the struggle will continue to be rhetorical and political and will not descend to actual violence and bloodshed. It is our additional duty to ensure that such a catastrophe never envelops us, by fighting in other arenas with tireless dedication until we prevail.

The Founders knew that this struggle would be ongoing: the price of liberty is eternal vigilance. Our vigilance lapsed for far too long, allowing the Left to steal a march (a Long March—ahem) on us and very nearly wreck our country for good. But with Trump’s election we made an overdue start on stemming the Dismal Tide. The astonishing rapidity with which our economy rebounded bespeaks an unexpected American resilience from which every true American can take heart; the collapse of Progressivism into incoherent folly and hapless flailing about, inevitable as it always was, is another encouraging confirmation.

But one way or another, by nonviolent means or by bloodshed, the struggle will go on. This is by no means a matter for lamentation, reluctance, or dismay. The modern Left’s ideology is antithetical to every principle espoused by the Founders and laid down in the Constitution; their intentions are monstrous, their actions intolerable. Their depraved vision is fundamentally incompatible with liberty, with individualism, with America’s founding ideals. They are implacably, unalterably opposed to those ideals, and will stick at absolutely nothing to see them overthrown.

After years of working clandestinely against it, they have only recently made their hostility to the American ideal public, in the mistaken assumption that the struggle was over and they had won the final round, vanquishing their hated foe for all time. That premature victory lap was an error that will haunt them for a long time to come, and may yet prove to be fatal. The repudiation dealt them by The Trumpening stupefied and deeply depressed them, sure enough. But nobody should be expecting them to give up just yet. They will fight on. They will never stop. They still intend to win.

And this we cannot allow. The boot must stay on their necks. This year’s midterm elections need to be another painful round for them, a defeat so unmistakeable and bitter it takes their breath away—one after which their excuse-making and blame-shifting is so transparently pathetic it can only be laughed aloud at by sane people. This is one case where kicking a man when he’s down is definitely called for.

There is liberty, or there is not. Liberty cannot compromise with tyranny; it can only succumb to it. A binary solution set confronts us: victory, or defeat. There are no other paths, and no other options.

Bring. It. On. And let the cucks fall where they may.

Update! This. This right here.

There is precious little, if not nothing, that average citizens can do to act against the Deep State actors who have foisted the staggeringly disgraceful Russiagate witch-and-scavenger hunt upon the American people. However, the Democratic Party, and concomitantly, the Leftist “mainstream” media, can and must be made to pay. The ballot box is the only way to deliver the payback.

Obviously, I’m not addressing the undeniable aspect of Russian interference. Who didn’t know that? I’m talking about delivering a sound ideological and electoral shellacking to every politician, every unhinged Leftist comedian, and every newsmedia personality that has hung a partisan hat on the ridiculous notion that Mr. Trump colluded with Vladimir Putin to circumvent Hillary Clinton’s election and secure the Oval Office.

It is in the hands of the country’s voters now, Republicans, independents, and concerned, open-minded Democrats, to send an incontrovertible message about corruption and real collusion in the upcoming midterm election.

Recipients of the grassroots reprimand should include ultimate RINOs like Robert Mueller, James Comey, and Rod Rosenstein. Nevermind that certain high-stakes players may be card-carrying members (in Comey’s case, formerly) of the GOP. If one core truth about this debacle can be told, from the very beginning it has been about acting on behalf of Hillary Clinton, President Obama, and the Deep State. Whoever has been instrumental in promulgating this attempt to stage a silent coup against a duly elected president must pay a price — if not legally, at least in terms of a severe upbraid from members of the freedom-loving, fair-minded citizenry.

What about the media — as Sean Hannity puts it, the “destroy Trump” media? There is only one way to make them pay. Make them choke down another catastrophe. Make them accountable for the fake news they’ve disseminated. Make them have to again sit in their beltway media centers and pontificate about how democracy dies in darkness, about how deplorable the American people are, and about how, if we only wait until 2020, the next change they’ve been waiting for will occur, and the presidential election they have been untruthfully attempting to scuttle will finally end.

Let the President Trump-aligned 2018 Red Wave begin.

From his lips to God’s ears. How can anyone not relish the prospect of Leftymedia spending another election night reduced to inconsolable televised weeping? Of all the sad-faced actors and actresses holding up selfies with their heart-rending cardboard-sign cris de coeur, despair all over them like a bad rash? Of network-news-show anchors left completely unable to even speak, robbed of their ability to express their soul-destroying anguish? Of a forced outburst of weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth from the Ruling Class entire inflicted on them by the Deplorable Dirt People?

THAT’S entertainment, folks.

For their own part, NeverTrumpTard Clown-Car Cucks better wake up at last lest they be left choking on Trump’s dust, unpitied sacrifices in a contemptible struggle, linked forever in the public mind with the hopeless Lefty losers whose ragged coattails they so stubbornly clutched, riding all the way down with them into flaming ruin.

Again, I mean.


Can’t parody them anymore

You truly, truly can’t. On the other hand, why go to the trouble? They’re doing such a bang-up job of it themselves.

Pink pussyhats are being dropped from Women’s March because they ‘exclude trans women and women whose private parts are not pink’

No really, you guys. It would appear, incredible as it may seem to sane people, that these barking moonbats are in fact serious as hell about this. And that they expect to be taken seriously, by actually serious non-lunatics. Steyn, as you would no doubt expect, is having himself one hell of a good old time with it:

Three years ago I wrote:

I can’t recall ever describing The Vagina Monologues as ‘edgy’. But I did tell Joseph Brean that I was amused to see that its annual ‘V Day’ production at Mount Holyoke College has been canceled because of its ‘extremely narrow perspective on what it means to be a woman’. Hence, this Guardian headline: ‘Vagina Monologues playwright: “I never said a woman is someone with a vagina”.’ As I said to Mr Brean, the revolution devours its own: Less than 20 years after Eve Ensler ’empowered’ women by ‘reclaiming’ their vaginas, it seems a woman doesn’t need a vagina at all, and it’s totally cisgenderism to suggest you’re not a woman if you’re hung like a horse.

As is my wont, I was playing it for laughs – but, as I always say, none of the people who matter in our society are laughing. Hence, the Bathroom Wars of the subsequent years, in which the position of what used to be known to Common Law as the Reasonable Man (now presumably the Reasonable Cisman) is apparently (as I put it on Rush): What sort of woman would be offended by the sight of another woman’s penis?

Henry Ford said you could get a Model T in any color as long as it’s black, but you really can get a Volvo in any color. Whoops, sorry, I mean a vulva. In the Civil Rights era, millions marched so that Americans might be judged not by the color of their faces but by the color of their vulvas. If only the apartheid regime in South Africa had thought to issue their citizenry with vulva-colored hats. Hallelujah!

Unfortunately, the Women’s March in Pensacola is having no truck with celebrating divulvaversity, as they explained in a post helpfully labeled…

Trigger Warning and Content Warning for comments: Transphobia, Cissexism, Racism, mention of Sexual Assault, Genital Mutilation, Misogyny and Trans-Misogyny.

They’re not kidding:

The Pink P*ssy Hat reinforces the notion that woman = vagina and vagina = woman, and both of these are incorrect.

Exactly. These days it’s entirely random. You never know what you’re getting into. As I noted a couple of years back, since the two sexes became multiple genders, and “transsexuals” became “transgenders”, and “sex change” became “gender fluidity,” some 60 per cent of transgender persons now retain their original genitalia. For example, my compatriot Gabrielle Tremblay won a Canadian Screen Award for Best Supporting Actress for a film in which she showed her penis.

“Her penis”: See how easy it is to get with the program?

Steyn goes on to posit a darker side to this hilarity: namely, that the fact we’re even lending an ear to such lunatic-fringe nonsense at all signals a tremendous victory for the cultural Marxists. To wit:

The cult-Marxists have remade almost everything in society, and detaching the sex organs from the sexes is the final decisive victory: Once “the notion that woman = vagina and vagina = woman” is up for grabs, there really isn’t anything left to demolish.

A fair enough assertion, I guess, in and of itself. I suppose Steyn’s serious reflection here calls for some at least slightly serious analysis from me too, much as I do hate to interrupt the pointing and laughing to do it. So here goes.

I can’t see this “decisive victory” as anything but Pyrrhic in the long run; it can’t help but rebound against the shriekers severely, and that right soon too. Normal, ordinary Americans not in dire need of psychiatric help will go along with demented thrashing about of the “pussyhat” sort only so far. Especially when it’s accompanied by rabid denunciations of their own more traditional values and standards, coming eventually to be seen as part of an attempt to destroy them.

Which, y’know, it is. Normals have proven themselves by now to be happy enough to leave people on society’s fringes alone to sort out their own issues, as bizarre as some of those issues might be. Much as “liberal” blacks, gay men, lesbians, LGBTXQ39whatthefuckevers, “feminists,” and other melodrama queens like to posture and whine as if there had been no loosening whatsoever of various late-19th-century cultural restrictions, modern American reality is something entirely different.

Ordinary Americans, despite pockets of resistance here and there over the years, are in the main possessed of a forbearance, flexibility, and open-mindedness that speaks quite well of them indeed—especially when compared with, say, the virulent prejudice against blacks still rampant in parts of Asia, or the inflexible hostility to homosexuals or women’s rights in the Muslim world.

But our homegrown nutjobs very scrupulously avoid taking notice of any of that. They are no longer content with mere forbearance, either, having moved on instead to hurling their sundry pathologies in everybody else’s teeth and haranguing Normals with accusations of a “bigotry” and “oppression” that simply do not exist. That mulish, dull-witted, juvenile lack of perspective will only serve to curtail said forbearance with a quickness, likely to be replaced with something that will suit the freaks one whole hell of a lot less.

Amusing Irony Alert: people who lament Trump’s “boorishness” and lack of “decorum” marching around DC in broad daylight…wearing “pussyhats.”

And an aside: Call me an old-fashioned old stick-in-the-mud of an old grouchy old codger if you will. Call me unworldly, call me unsophisticated, call me a hick from the sticks, a rube. Call me delicate, or fussy, or overly fastidious and prim. Call me naive, even, although I assure you you’d be wrong on that one. I’ve been a lot of places, and I’ve seen a lot of things. I’ve skirted danger-close to being what some might consider a libertine myself, at various times and in various ways. I have, in fact, been there and done that. To a much greater extent than most, if I do say so myself.

But one thing I never once imagined seeing, not in a million years I didn’t, was a pussyhat. A hat. Shaped to resemble a pussy—explicitly, no sly subtlety or coyness in design or construction at all, leaving absolutely no room for misinterpretation. Nary a wink, nary a nudge in sight. Worn in full public view, not at a porn industry convention or a NYC Gay Pride parade, not as a tasteless joke of an off-color costume at an adult Halloween party, but in the streets of the nation’s capital. As a political statement, a petition for the redress of grievances as our hallowed Founders put it. By people who expected to be taken seriously rather than made sport of as would be due and proper, or chased off into the night by someone possessed of too much politesse to endure such a breach of etiquette without taking direct action.

Pussyhats. I mean, seriously, you guys.

I still hold that, when you think about it, this endlessly escalating tomfoolery all comes back to the same thing: the hysteric desperation these headcases feel over Trump’s election and his solid progress in keeping his bargain with the American people since he took office. The resultant anguish has driven almost the entirety of the American Left right past the edge of eccentricity or neurosis into genuine madness. The rejection of their disastrous program was a spark that ignited a shrieking, frothing overreaction which I doubt very much they can control or even moderate, no matter how destructive to their ambitions—and to themselves, personally—it will turn out to be.

It’s almost frightening to think about what the response to their coming 2018 shellacking will be. But if things continue along more or less as they have been, it’s almost certain we’re going to find out. And then we’re going to see what that gets them.

My bet? I predicted before he was even elected that there would be more assassination attempts against Trump than any president in history. After the midterms, if the shellacking I anticipate comes to pass and Left whackadoodles find themselves soundly thumped once again (UNEXPECTED!™), look for those to start in earnest, as an even more penetrating despair and hopelessness settles in deep at the ol’ Ha Ha Hotel and the more, umm, proactive inmates figure they have nothing left to lose.


Happy New Year piss-soaked nightmare!

Yeah, yeah, I know I’m probably going to Hell for finding this story so gut-bustingly hilarious.

But still.

Standing on your feet for hours during the freezing cold, not having a single sip of water because there’s no restroom to relieve yourself, and being crushed on all sides by strangers sounds hellish — but some 2 million people do it willingly every year.

Indeed, there are no port-a-potties, and local businesses turn away revelers in need, as Jeryl Lippe learned the hard way.

When the 22-year-old from Mahwah, NJ, hit Times Square with her boyfriend, Gabriel, four years ago, she smuggled in vodka in a water bottle. (Alcohol, along with large bags and umbrellas, is forbidden; plus, Lippe was underage.) She didn’t eat anything other than a breakfast bagel, and didn’t have her illicit drink until the end of the day. But, “by the time it was turning midnight, I had drunk a lot and was desperate to go to the bathroom,” said the junior social-media editor. “I tried to find someplace to go — hotels, restaurants,” she said, but she was denied.

One of the more unpleasant realities of life in NYC is that there are just about NO public toilets, male, female, or 37 Flavors Of Diverse Undecided. Other than the ones in the subway, that is, most of which aren’t exactly…welllll, let’s just say you’re way better off just pissing in the street. Which, late in the night after the bars have closed, is exactly what a lot of desperate folks, filled to the ears with booze and their back teeth afloat, end up doing.

Yes, me too. Plenty of times, in fact.

A telling aside: in Little Richard’s autobiography, he waxes rhapsodic about his days hanging out in the Times Square subway stop men’s room trolling for prospective blowjob recipients. It’s a testament to his encompassing kinkiness (legendary among older rock and rollers, by the way; Richard, bless his perverted little heart, was way beyond either gay or straight, long before anybody even thought of the term “omnisexual”) that it comes off as one of the tamer stories in the book.

It’s also as good a reason as anyone not within reach of Richard’s exalted level of buck-wild should ever need for resolving to stay out of the place at all costs. Perhaps even worse yet, that was back in the tamer, politer, and supposedly sexually-repressed (yeah, right) 50s. I very much doubt environmental conditions have improved in there since.

Alvarado recalled how one of his friends gave up and urinated in the street, adding, “I’ve heard stories of people who wear [adult] diapers.”

Yeah uh huh, no. I assure you most sincerely: NOT. It ain’t worth it. I have no intention of putting on adult diapers until I absolutely must, thank you very much. And once I do, I’ll be in them for good. I damned sure ain’t gonna make that depressing capitulation in order to see a ball drop after long, long hours of being squeezed in cheek by jowl amongst a bunch of yahoos freely pissing themselves and each other the whole while. The smell alone would be disincentive enough for me.

In all the time I’ve spent over the years in NYC, both as resident and visitor, I was never once even tempted to do the Times Square NYE thing. Part of the reason for that is probably the time I went to Herald Square for the Thanksgiving Day parade back in the 80’s. It wasn’t as hellish as the Post story makes NYE sound—barely—but it was certainly bad enough: packed in like sardines, freezing-ass cold, and hardly even able to catch more than a glimpse of the parade over the heads of my fellow victims. Afterwards, as the great mass of humanity started to try to edge out of the mob any way they could, it took about an hour to get to the subway station a half a block away.

It was bad enough, in fact, that when I was living there years later my girlfriend’s older sister, who was a Macy’s exec with a bit of clout, offered us much-coveted seats in the grandstand for the parade one year. We turned her down politely, firmly, and without a moment’s hesitation.

I have never once rued that decision.

I was much younger and more adventurous back then, too. Nowadays, I don’t usually stay up til midnight on New Years’ at all, and can’t even be bothered to watch any of the New Years’ Eve TV specials when I do. For years, the band would be playing every New Years’ Eve, since on that night even a half-assed, lower-tier outfit can expect to make three or four times as much as they would any other day of the year. On the rare occasions we weren’t playing that night, a quiet evening at home seemed like just the thing—something of a vacation, almost. It’s a tradition I’m happy to go on upholding, for as long as I last.

Happy New Years? Bah. Humbug.



All that bitchslapping over the Moore debacle has seemingly gotten the treacherous old Deep State rat scurrying for a hole.

Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell has made no secret of his dislike of President Trump’s daily tweeting habit.

McConnell said on Friday he’s changing his mind, at least over the most recent string of tweets from the White House, which have touted the GOP’s recently-passed tax cut bill and other Republican legislative accomplishments.

“With regard to the presidents tweeting habit, I haven’t been a fan until this week,” McConnell said. “I‘m warming up to the tweets actually.”

Uh huh. Those dismal popularity numbers in his home state have nothing to do with it, I’m sure.

(Also via Insty)


Drop dead

Democrat Socialist abuser of women John Conyers runs for a hidey-hole.

Guess the Democrat Socialist Men Behind The Curtain decided it would be better to give this reprobate the bum’s rush off Stage Left right quick, before he does any more damage. Al “Fish Lips” Franken, too, is reportedly considering seeking “help” as a useful deflection, as are Weinstein and Spacey.

Problem is, though, these serial shitheads don’t NEED therapy. They knew perfectly well that what they were doing was wrong; they suffered no confusion whatever about that, as is evidenced by their trying to keep their grubby indecencies under wraps and well-hidden all along. No, the real problem is that they fully expected to get away with it.

And considering the usual protective circling of the liberal wagons around at least the politicians among ’em that we’re seeing, one can only conclude that their assumption of invulnerability is correct. For now, anyway. We’ll see if their brazen strategy works out as they expect it to in the long term. One thing is certain: any self-respecting woman who would even dream of voting for a member of this filthy party after these revelations is a damned fool.


Is EVERY “liberal” a sick, weenie-wagging, perverted abuser of women?

Apparently so, yeah.

As the co-host of NBC’s “Today,” Matt Lauer once gave a colleague a sex toy as a present. It included an explicit note about how he wanted to use it on her, which left her mortified.

On another day, he summoned a different female employee to his office, and then dropped his pants, showing her his penis. After the employee declined to do anything, visibly shaken, he reprimanded her for not engaging in a sexual act.

He would sometimes quiz female producers about who they’d slept with, offering to trade names. And he loved to engage in a crass quiz game with men and women in the office: “f—, marry, or kill,” in which he would identify the female co-hosts that he’d most like to sleep with.

These accounts of Lauer’s behavior at NBC are the result of a two-month investigation by Variety, with dozens of interviews with current and former staffers. Variety has talked to three women who identified themselves as victims of sexual harassment by Lauer, and their stories have been corroborated by friends or colleagues that they told at the time. They have asked for now to remain unnamed, fearing professional repercussions.

On Wednesday, NBC announced that Lauer was fired from “Today.”

Couldn’t happen to a nicer asshole. Except, perhaps, this one:

I nurture an especial loathing for Keillor, who has to be pretty much the pluperfect example of the smug, sanctimonious, self-righteous, arrogant Progressivist. The greasy unctuousness that drips like hot bacon fat from his every spoken syllable has always grated on me something awful, and I look forward to seeing the fatuous pig twisting in the wind for days to come yet, as more and more accusers find their courage and crawl out from under the rock he crushed them under.

Better put some Powdermilk Biscuit flour on that, fat boy.

Update! Creep confessional.

In 1994, Keillor addressed the National Press Club and defended Bill Clinton against a battery of accusations, calling him a “soulful man” who “got himself elected without scaring people.” Keillor warned that society should try “not to make the world so fine and good that you and I can’t enjoy living in it.”

He added in his hangdog baritone: “A world in which there is no sexual harassment at all, is a world in which there will not be any flirtation. A world without thieves at all will not have entrepreneurs.” Twenty-three years later — amid a reckoning of workplace behavior that has felled politicians, TV anchors and Hollywood heavies — a viewer is left to wonder: Was Keillor being straight, or satirical?

In 1998 Keillor wrote “Wobegon Boy,” a novel about a radio host who is wrongly accused of sexual harassment and fired by his station.

On Tuesday, the day before his firing, The Washington Post published his opinion piece ridiculing the idea that Sen. Al Franken (D-Minn.) should resign over allegations of sexual harassment.

Calls for Franken’s head are “pure absurdity,” Keillor wrote, “and the atrocity it leads to is a code of public deadliness.”

Keillor, an avowed Democrat, last year became a weekly columnist for The Washington Post News Service and Syndicate — meaning he was a contract writer, not an employee with a desk in the newsroom. Many of his columns took mournful aim at President Trump, who “would have enjoyed the 17th century,” when “the idea of privileged sexual aggression was common in high places.”

Man, irony just doesn’t come much richer or more toothsome than that. Twist, twist, and writhe, you double-dealing blowhard. You readers can rest assured I’m going over the above-mentioned WaPo piece on Franken right now, and will be back for another savory bite of greasy long-pig soon as I’m done with it.

(Via David Bernstein)

Meh update! Surprisingly, it’s a very brief and almost perfunctory piece, although in light of what we know now it DOES have a distinct flavor of self-serving desperation lurking under the crust of overcooked wordplay. Keillor starts off with a so-so riff on the potential risks and rewards of renaming—one Francois-Marie Arouet (who went on to renown under the pen-name Voltaire) in particular—which pointless perambulation brings him staggering round at last to the meat of it, such as it is:

That name worked out well for Francois-Marie — it lent an electricity to his work. For example, his statement: “Any one who has the power to make you believe absurdities has the power to make you commit injustices.” We might not believe that coming from a Francois-Marie. And how considerate of him to say it in English rather than French.

The greatest absurdity of our time is You Know Whom, which goes without saying but I will anyway. What his election showed is that a considerable number of people, in order to demonstrate their frustration with the world as it is, are willing to drive their car, with their children in the back seat, over a cliff, smash the radiator, bust an axle and walk away feeling good about themselves. No other president in modern times has been held in contempt by a preponderance of people from the moment he said, “So help me, God.” The playboy blather, the smirk of privilege, the stunning contempt for factual truth — how can the country come together when the president has nothing in common with 98 percent of the rest of us?

And then there is Sen. Al Franken. He did USO tours overseas when he was in the comedy biz. He did it from deep in his heart, out of patriotism, and the show he did was broad comedy of a sort that goes back to the Middle Ages. Shakespeare used those jokes now and then, and so did Bob Hope and Joey Heatherton when they entertained the troops. If you thought that Al stood outdoors at bases in Iraq and Afghanistan and told stories about small-town life in the Midwest, you were wrong. On the flight home, in a spirit of low comedy, Al ogled Miss Tweeden and pretended to grab her and a picture was taken. Eleven years later, a talk show host in LA, she goes public, and there is talk of resignation. This is pure absurdity, and the atrocity it leads to is a code of public deadliness. No kidding.

Franken should change his name to Newman and put the USO debacle behind him and then we’ll change frankincense to Febreze. Remove the slaveholder Washington from our maps, replacing him with Wampanoag, and replace Jefferson, who slept with Sally Hemings — consensual? I doubt it — with Powhatan, and what about the FDR Drive in New York, named for a man who was unfaithful to his wife? Let’s call it RFD and let it go at that.

Man, the “everybody does it” self-justification rises off that like a bad, bad odor.

“Playboy blather” indeed, you son of a bitch; “nothing in common with 98 percent of the rest of us”—except of course YOU. You, and all of Hollywood, and your precious Democrat-Socialist swamp-dwellers, too.

And all Trump did was TALK about it, stating something everybody knows is the simple truth: that wealth and fame allow a man to get away with a lot that he wouldn’t otherwise. You and your fellow power-abusing pustules didn’t talk about it. You DID it.

You want Trump crucified for merely talking about the very things you and your precious “icons” HAVE ACTUALLY BEEN DOING ALL ALONG—and even have the big, brass balls to say so in the course of defending one of your own for doing it in this article. Worse, you all have actually been doing it while claiming to be “feminists”—priggishly lecturing us “toxic masculinity” troglodytes on our supposed “misogyny” while you have your unseen hand up some poor girl’s skirt against her will, without her consent, and to her outrage and horror.

Yeah, well, FUCK YOU, gasbag. Every last stinking, insufferable one of you. Period fucking dot. As the great Larry Brown once hilariously fantasized saying to a publisher who had rejected him: I wish I had you down here. I’d whip your ass. I’d stomp a mudhole in your ass and walk it dry.

Despicable, certainly. One can only stand in awe of their boundless gall, even as one chokes back the rising gorge over their deplorable lack of shame or decency.

Well, that, and enjoy their public humiliation while we eagerly await the next round, I mean.

Of course, the most delicious part of all remains unchanged: for all their high sanctimony before, now that all of Hollywood, most of Democrat Socialist DC, and even the world of “journalism” stands exposed, they still have, what?

Judge Roy Moore. One guy—ONE—against entire INDUSTRIES of Progressivist gropers, weenie-waggers, pervs, and pud-pullers. Let’s just run a list, which I won’t even pretend is comprehensive: Weinstein. Clinton, of course. Gore. Conyers. Franken. NPR chief editor David Sweeney. Takei. Louis CK. Keillor. Weiner. Spacey. Charlie Rose. Glenn Thrush. Halperin. James Toback. Brett Ratner. John Lasseter. Go back further than this recent tsunami, if you like, to Ted Kennedy: the Lion of the Senate, inspiration and role model, grandfather to them all.

All proud liberals—ALL. Against…what?

Judge Roy Moore. That’s it. He’s the only one. And the already-questionable allegations against him are holding less and less water by the day.

Enjoy this? Oh, you just bet your sweet ass I am. And if you’re a liberal female and are all butthurt now, perceiving my turning of that last phrase as some kind of microaggression against you, well, call a fucking cop, sweetcheeks.

Seriously, though, I must admit that I mostly agree with Keillor’s premise in his article above: I do think the stultified, juiceless world foisted on us by Progressivist political correctness—the lunatic boundaries their idea of what constitutes “sexual harassment” have drawn around us all—is neither a pleasant nor a desirable one. Would I prefer that we were all less uptight, more tolerant, more hardy and unflappable, less quick to take offense, more forgiving, more able to act like big boys and girls when it comes to such things? Sure I would.

Which doesn’t imply that I think there ain’t real, true harassment going on out there, mind. It also doesn’t mean I think it shouldn’t be swatted down vigorously and punished righteously when it’s exposed, each and every time, no matter who does it. It’s abuse of power; it’s preying on women, plain and simple, and it shouldn’t be tolerated. As a man and not a Pajama Boy pusscake, I believe protecting the women in my life from true predatory animals is one of my noblest and most compelling duties, and I have no qualms whatever about doing it. I owe my precious daughter that much, if no one else, and I swore to myself a long time ago that I would NOT fail her.

As has been said about other things, though: in a world where everything is sexual harassment, nothing is. All of the egregious behavior by the Progtard “icons” listed above rises (or sinks) to a reasonable, credible standard of harassment and abuse, and may God have mercy on the Franken or Lauer who dares do such to my little girl, because I surely won’t. On the other hand, innocent flirtation, say (unless it’s unwanted or excessive, or persists after a clear and calmly-stated request to knock it off); asking a co-worker out for drinks after work; an awkward, perhaps even drunken declaration of infatuation after a few of those drinks—ehhh, not so much, I’m thinking.

These are all things that those of us with a functioning moral compass can recognize as minor irritations at worst, certainly not just causes for hysteria, law-enforcement intervention, or psychotherapy. The critical flaw in the Progressivist approach is their usual lack of any sense of proportion, their complete inability to apply common sense to any problem or situation. That, combined with their bone-deep, reflexive penchant for seeking legislative, big-government solutions to anything and everything is why they find themselves in such deep doo-doo now. Which is no more than they deserve, the dopes.

But maybe the real long-term harm in what Progressivists have done is to make it probable that at least some bona-fide allegations of harassment or abuse won’t be taken seriously— that they end up numbing us to all such things so thoroughly as to render us uninterested in reacting appropriately to cases of real abuse. As with their shrieks of “Nazi!” at anyone who disagrees with them slightly, they may end up removing all force and impact from the term. Only time will tell on that, I guess.

For the moment, though, it’s time to enjoy another self-inflicted sucking chest wound, and to help ensure it’s as grievously and permanently injurious to them as possible. As with everything else, they’ve politicized sexual abuse, and are now being amusingly hoist once again on their own petard. This is the world they wanted; this is the world they made, and we all have to live in it. To fail to rigorously enforce their own rules against them, especially when it will do such great harm to them, is a mug’s game. It’s exactly what they expect of us right now, in truth—they’re counting on it; you can see that from the excuses they’re already so audaciously making for Franken, Lauer, and Conyers.

Hell with that. They’re your juices, libtards. Stew in ’em, till you’re fucking well done.

We’re gonna need more popcorn, looks like.


Rotten tree bears toxic fruit

Defining degeneracy down. Or, looked at another way, raising the bar to truly nauseating heights.

Would you be inclined to buy makeup because a 10-year-old boy is showing you how to create a look on Instagram? If we’re talking about Jack Bennett of @makeuupbyjack, then the answer could well be a resounding yes.

Oh, I assure you it most certainly could NOT. It does raise a whole lot of other questions (such as whether this poor confused young man’s overindulgent parents ought to be locked up, for one), but the only real answer it provides is whether this kid has serious mental-health issues or not, and whether he’ll be tormented by them his whole life long. But I suspect there was never much doubt about those answers anyway.

Since convincing his mother to start his account in May, young Mr. Bennett, who lives in Berkshire, England, has amassed 331,000 followers and attracted the attention of brands like MAC and NYX, which have offered products to create looks. Refinery29 has celebrated him as the next big thing in makeup.

He is the latest evidence of a seismic power shift in the beauty industry, which has thrust social media influencers to the top of the pecking order. Refreshingly, they come in all shapes, sizes, ages and, more recently, genders. Hailed by Marie Claire as the “beauty boys of Instagram,” the early male pioneers, like Patrick Simondac (@PatrickStarrr), Jeffree Star(@jeffreestar) and Manny Gutierrez, (@MannyMua733), have transcended niche to become juggernauts with millions of followers. And their aesthetic is decidedly new: neither old-school-rocker makeup nor drag queen.

“When I first started on Instagram six years ago, the only stuff that existed was guy-liner,” Mr. Starrr said. “It was Fall Out Boy, and it was not glamorous. There wasn’t anything close to applying false lashes. I wanted to feel pretty and beautiful without being a drag queen.”

Well, sorry, kid, but despite the cheerleading from the cultural boll-weevils at the NYT—who wish only to undercut the whole idea of masculinity by promoting gender confusion and dysfunction, and are merely using your natural early-stage groping for identity to promote a sinister agenda—you’ve failed at that.

What makes the Lefty propagandists indulging and manipulating the trials of youth to advance their larger goal of manipulating the greater society as well as humanity itself so despicable in this instance is the damage they’re doing to the boys. Instead of providing them with proper guidance and role models that could ease their passage to a healthy, realistic, and more productive place in society, the kids in this article are going to suffer their whole lives from this Lefty ploy in one way or another. The villains wreaking this havoc—starting with the writer of this article, and the NYT itself—should hope most fervently that karma ain’t a real thing. Or, y’know, Hell.

Mike Walsh lays his finger on another issue:

At the same time the MSM tosses around the word “pedophila” without the slightest idea what its definition actually is, the Newspaper of Record goes and runs a celebratory story like this: just have a look at the picture at the link of a ten-year-old boy. This is not only the sexualizing of children, it’s the homosexualizing of them, which is of course the point, given the Times‘s passionate and enthusiastic advocacy of all things gay.

The gay marriage battle, as many said at the time, was just the first step down a path that would lead into many cultural blind alleys. That now-quaint notion was airily dismissed at the time as absurd exaggerations from extremist bigots overcome by hysteria and hate. Those “extremists” wished not to oppress anyone or do them harm, but to preserve institutions and traditions that have served humanity quite well for a VERY long time, and sparked the most rapid advancement, the most true progress, in all of human history.

A small irony: the remarkable rapidity of that progress, juxtaposed with the breakneck speed of the changes in attitudes being wrought even now by the Left’s machinations seeking to pervert or undo it. Imagine gay marriage as anything but a completely mainstream and non-controversial proposition now; imagine lighting up a cigarette in a bar freely and without approbation or arrest; imagine repealing Obamacare…and not replacing it with any government-run system.

You probably can’t. I’d bet anything your teen or twenty-something kid can’t.

As with feminism and the status of American blacks among many other issues, the NYT’s and Leftymedia’s pro-gay advocacy has dragged us way beyond righting some wrongs, addressing some legitimate grievances, and liberating a marginal minority who, yes, had been treated unfairly in the past, sometimes horribly so. This is now something else entirely: it’s an attempt at the overthrow of an entire culture, replacing it not with some marvelous Utopia but with chaos and confusion.

But you don’t have to take my word for it; the loathsome hippies gave the game away long ago:

Everyone knows that Charles Manson inspired those murders. None of that is being forgotten in reports of his death.

But what also shouldn’t be forgotten was how the murders inspired Bernardine Dohrn, the ’60s militant Marxist who spearheaded the Weather Underground.

That surreal, cruel moment came at the appropriately titled “War Council” held in Flint, Michigan on December 27, 1969, two days after Christmas. It was attended by some 400 student radicals from the SDS-Weathermen cabal, who promoted this political-ideological-sexual gathering as a collective “Wargasm.” For the lovely ’60s hippies, it would be (as usual) a night of radical politics, unrestrained sex, and violence.

Among the ringleaders was the late John Jacobs, who had coined a fitting slogan for the evening and for the entire movement: “We’re against everything that’s good and decent.” That became obvious when the indecent Bernardine Dohrn grabbed the microphone. “We’re about being crazy motherf—ers,” Dohrn shouted, “and scaring the sh-t out of honky America!”

Mark Rudd, the SDS leader who shut down Columbia University a year earlier, in the spring of 1968, translated this message for the wider world: “The message was that we sh-t on all your conventional values, you murderers of black revolutionaries and Vietnamese babies. There were no limits to our politics of transgression.”

A line had been crossed that night in Flint — the first steps into a dark world. From the high altar of Rev. Dohrn’s four-finger salute flowed domestic terror cells, gunpowder, bomb-making units. A “new decade now dawned,” recalled Rudd, as “the New Red Army marched out from Flint, exhilarated and terrified.” Its members would spend the next decade literally plotting the violent overthrow of the United States of America, which (quoting their hero, Che Guevara) they declared “the Great Enemy of Mankind.”

They planned attacks, planted bombs, and engaged in murder, all along fleeing the federal authorities as fugitives on the FBI’s “Most Wanted” list. Ayers would change his name from town to town, chillingly visiting dead cemeteries where he borrowed the names of deceased babies from tombstones as his macabre aliases.

Lest you kid yourself that this is all some quaint old ancient history with no relevance for us in the modern era, better think again:

Dohrn and Ayers, of course, were back in the news again in 2008, when their friendship with an aspiring Illinois politician named Barack Obama was raised. A chilling symbolic moment in Obama’s rise was the political blessing he received in the living room of Bill and Bernardine in their Hyde Park home in 1995.

In fact, Obama and Bill Ayers actually did a number of things together in Chicago. They jointly served as board members at the Woods Fund in Chicago; they worked on “school reform” through the Chicago Annenberg Challenge; they served on a juvenile-justice panel (organized by Michelle Obama); they appeared together as speakers or panel participants at Chicago events; they had many mutual associations, including with disturbing figures like Rashid Khalidi; they acknowledged one another in books and reviews and even endorsement of their books; they had a relationship as neighbors (three blocks apart); plus numerous other reported associations. (I detail these and many additional connections, with copious endnotes, in my book 2010 book, Dupes.) In 2001, the same period when Ayers openly lamented that he had not done enough damage to the Pentagon, Ayers donated $200 to Obama’s reelection campaign for the Illinois Senate, which Obama happily accepted and was never called upon to repudiate. The relationship was professional and personal. Some have speculated that Barack met his wife Michelle at the Sidley & Austin law firm where Bernardine Dohrn worked.

But, hey, who’s counting — eh?

Who indeed. Which is probably the most dismaying part of all.

This does work well as a reminder that nobody should be telling themselves Leftists are going to be easy pickings when the liberty-minded finally do rise up to throw off the yoke of their oppression, or that their professed abhorrence of violence extends far enough to cover anyone who disagrees with them or dares to try to resist them. Some of that might apply in varying degrees to some or perhaps even most of them. But there has always been a hard core of the Left that is thuggish, vicious, cannot be reasoned with, and is quite enthusiastic about doing violence to their opposition. And they are probably far greater in number than many of us imagine.

Oh, and don’t be kidding yourself with the comforting assumption that our side has all the guns, either. We have most of them, true, and probably will for a good while yet. But empty talk of who has what never yet stopped even one piece of contra-Constitutional act of legislative tyranny, nor any Obama pen-and-phone power grabs, either. And the Left is beginning to arm up.

On the other hand, the hard Left will also be bringing effeminate, passive neurotics like the children in the article up top gradually into their ranks too. They’ll be dull-witted, sheep-like, and incapable of functioning or taking initiative outside of a strictly-regimented environment thanks to their government schooling. They’ll be awkward with tools, unable to cope when something malfunctions or breaks down, and prone to breaking down themselves into helplessly paralyzed fits of weeping at the slightest misadventure or unexpected complication. All of which will serve to weaken the Left just as much as it will (or has) America itself.

Another instance of stinging irony, and of their grandiose plans blowing up in their faces because of having actually been brought to a fuller fruition than they at first imagined—but which WE easily foresaw, and warned against all along. Hey, who says there ain’t any justice in the world, anyway? Why, sometimes, it’s so rich and moving as to be almost eerily poetic.


War on women

There’s a phrase for it: hoist on their own petard.

Mike Pence has been derided by liberals for his “open door” rule, refusing ever to meet alone with a woman other than his wife, but the wisdom of his policy is revealed every time we see a new headline about the wicked behavior of men like Harvey Weinstein, Brett Rattner, Al Franken, Glenn Thrush, Louis C.K., James Toback, Kevin Spacey, Charlie Rose, Michael Oreskes, John Lasseter, Mark Halperin, on and on and on.

There is no doubt that the Sexual Harassment Apocalypse will also destroy some Republicans — new allegations against Roy Moore seem to emerge every day — but on balance, these exposures mainly involve liberal men in politics, journalism and Hollywood. This is deeply ironic, of course, because Democrats campaigned in 2012 on the claim that there was a Republican “War on Women,” Hillary Clinton made feminist “empowerment” a major theme of her campaign in 2016, and it was only because Hillary lost that we have now entered this climate where feminists are willing to pour gasoline all over the machinery of male Democrat power, strike a match and burn it to the ground.

You can thank the 63 million Trump voters for this “empowerment.”

True. You can be damned sure that we’d never have heard a peep about any of this if they had somehow contrived to drag Sick Hillary!™ over the finish line. And that’s by far the least of many bullets we dodged because of their humiliating failure. Just one more thing to give thanks for today.

Bad people do bad things, and it is not really surprising that Harvey Weinstein is a monster.

Now these monsters are being hunted down by their former feminist “allies,” and all the power and money in the world cannot save them.

Karma is a bitch, they say. And what a deeply ironic bitch she is.

Indeed she is. Ruthless, too, and no respecter of either persons or their power status.

(Via Insty)


Circling the wagons

Their hypocrisy knows no bounds.

There have been media people claiming, “Franken was really not groping! Come on! Everybody can see. That was a setup photo. That was a fake grope.” That’s MSNBC. MSNBC has parsed the grope.

Also over at MSNBC they have actually resorted to impugning the character of Leeann Tweeden. There are whispers, if you know where to go and you know where to watch, you know where to look and what to read, there are people who are saying, “Well, you know what? She’s posed nude. She’s been to the Playboy mansion. This woman’s not this virtuoso out there. She’s got a sordid past. You can’t blame Franken.”

That’s actually been on the air at MSNBC. She went to the Playboy mansion, she’s posed nude, she’s a model, you know, she purposely tries to titillate guys this way. You can’t blame Franken, you can’t blame Franken, what do you think he’s supposed to do, they’re alone over on there in the USO tour? This is a defense that I’m hearing, and — wait for it — “Hey, he was a comedian then, not a senator.” Really? What difference does that make? What possible difference does it make that he was a comedian and not a senator?

Because he’s a Democrat Socialist senator, that’s what. And that’s all the distinction they need to excuse him.

So was Louis C.K. So were half these other clowns in Hollywood that have been caught up in this. What the hell difference does that make he was a comedian then and not a senator? I haven’t heard anybody say that Roy Moore was a local assistant district attorney then. The only thing I’ve heard somebody say is that Roy Moore was a Democrat then. And that was me. And the Drive-By Media had a conniption fit over it.

I later learned that there were some stuffed shirts in conservative media that had a big problem with that. Snerdley brought it to my attention. I was stunned. Some holier-than-thou conservative people thought that I was trying to mount a defense of Roy Moore by pointing out that he was a Democrat when it happened. Yeah, they were saying sexual abuse, this kind of thing is not partisan. Give me a break!

All of this is partisan. Every bit of this is. It’s partisan in terms of Democrat-Republican. It’s partisan in terms of insider-outsider. It’s partisan in terms of establishment ruling class and plebes. What the hell, this isn’t partisan? Every bit of this, it’s all partisan. Everything has become partisan because everything’s become politicized.

…I pointed out something that was factually true. He was a Democrat back then. Oh, something else that’s factually true. Nobody cared what he was doing back then. Nobody cared what he was doing a month ago. Nobody cared two months ago what he was doing back then, when he was a Democrat.

Yeah, well, they didn’t have an election to steal back then, and a Senate majority to try to regain. They recently threw the Clintons under the bus not because they’ve had some sort of moral epiphany, not because times and values have changed and their consciousness elevated in consequence, but strictly because the Clintons are no longer of any use to them—nothing more, nothing less. Fish Lips Franken, on the other hand, is, at least in some people’s estimation:

They’re gonna try to save him. That’s what calling for an ethics investigation’s all about. You talk about stringing it out. But right here it is. August 25th, Newsweek magazine: “Can Anyone Beat Donald Trump in 2020? Al Franken Could be a Challenger — He may be good enough, smart enough and possibly popular enough to run for president in 2020, but U.S. Senator Al Franken (D-Minn.) may need to be prodded to challenge Donald Trump and fight off other Democrats.”

So this story basically says that Franken is the great secret weapon the Democrats have but that nobody knows it ’cause Franken would have to be talked into running. Now, if you don’t think this tells you that these people are in deep doo-doo. If they really have people at the higher levels of their apparatus thinking Franken is — and I know what some of you are saying. “Yeah, well, some people said that about Trump too.” (laughing)

Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that there are some in the Democrat hierarchy who think so, which will go a long way toward deciding just how Franken is dealt with. A lot of people thought Franken would have been forced or asked to resign by now. There were some who thought that Chuck You Schumer and these guys would get in gear because, look, they’ve charted their course to get Trump, and they’re going after Roy Moore as a prelude to getting Trump, and if they at all appear to be tolerating somebody in their own ranks who engaged in this and there’s a photo to go along with it and it’s gonna really make their quest tougher.

Not in their estimation it won’t. You must remember: they don’t give a shit what real Americans think about all this. Nor do they care about how it all looks to the rest of us, about their rank hypocrisy being so completely laid bare. They certainly don’t care about the victims of these liberal pervs, any more than they did about Juanita Broaddrick or Kathleen Willey or Paula Jones or any of the myriad others victimized by The Creep™.

They care about one thing, exclusively and forever: power. Their blithe dismissal of Fish Lips Franken’s transgression against what is in other circumstances an inviolable liberal shibboleth is shocking, but not surprising. They are as cynical a passel of megalomaniacs as it’s possible to imagine; as Treacher so memorably said of Obama, they’ll say anything they think will get them through the next five minutes. They’ll happily contradict themselves ten times before lunch on any given day, and then turn on a dime and do it all again in the afternoon.

Consider, if you’ll forgive the slight digression: I heard someone on NPR earlier referring to the Obamacare mandate penalty as a “fine.” One assumes he did this without blushing, although for any decent person possessed of a shred of integrity it would be hard to imagine how. This, after his side insisted when it served their purposes that it was a “tax”; I suspect that formulation was written into many a liberal-media stylebook back then. John Roberts will forever be held in contempt by honest Americans for allowing the Left this deceit, and personally bears a large portion of the blame for the damage thereby done.

The only thing more puzzling than the decision itself was the legal justification Roberts offered in his opinion. According to Roberts, the reason the individual mandate is permissible is because the federal government has the authority to tax and the so-called Obamacare “fine” is actually a tax.

Virtually no legal scholars, academics, or political pundits predicted SCOTUS would come to this conclusion, and critics of the decision quickly pointed out that the ruling effectively gives the federal government the authority to force Americans to engage in or refrain from any activities the government sees fit as long as the failure to comply results in a “tax,” as opposed to a “fine,” “fee,” or some other form of punishment.

It did not matter that the lawyers representing the federal government never made this claim themselves or that the Obama administration had consistently referred to the so-called “tax” as a “fine” on numerous occasions. It was perhaps the most bizarre rationale for an expansion of government power ever conceived by a Supreme Court justice writing an influential opinion, and the damage from the decision has not yet been fully realized.

Roberts was and is either a fool, an incompetent, a backstabber, or some combination thereof. His inexplicable warping of the language in the service of a profound betrayal of the Constitution he took an oath to uphold ought to bring him an infamy that long outlasts his miserable life.

So yeah, of course they’re going to let Franken skate if they can possibly find a way to do it. And they’ll do it while continuing to excoriate Moore, and by extension Trump, who is the ultimate target here anyway. It’s all part of their Great Game. Hypocrisy, while certainly accurate enough, is far too mild a word, and is inadequate to express the scope of their profound iniquity.

The truly encouraging thing is that, as the scales fall from more and more people’s eyes as they have been the past couple of years, the odds of their getting away with it this time are much narrower than they’ve been accustomed to in the past—and with each successive gambit, those odds will continue to get worse. The more people see of them, the uglier the Left looks. And the greater the number of people with eyes finally opened, the less chance they have of winning…anything, at all, ever.



Who are you gonna believe, a helpless victim or Al Franken’s hypocritical, lying ass?

US Senator Al Franken has responded to a woman’s allegations that he groped her as she slept and “forcibly” kissed her in a rehearsal for a comedy skit.

Leeann Tweeden says the two incidents happened in December 2006 on a tour to entertain US troops overseas, before Mr Franken entered politics.

The radio host wrote that the former comic “aggressively” kissed her while saying they had to rehearse a scene.

Mr Franken, a former Saturday Night Live writer, apologised for the grope.

I blame the climate of sexual predation and violence against women created by Donald Trump, myself.

But the Minnesota Democrat said he has a different recollection of the kiss.

“I certainly don’t remember the rehearsal for the skit in the same way, but I send my sincerest apologies to Leeann,” he said.

“As to the photo, it was clearly intended to be funny but wasn’t. I shouldn’t have done it.”

If it had been funny, it would have been a first coming from this perverted douchebag.

Update! In fairness to the asshole Franken, it must be admitted that Tweeden sports one hell of a nice rack, and one can easily see how a self-indulgent liberal libertine like him would be powerless to resist the temptation to cop himself a cheap feel while she was safely asnooze.

Hilarious update! Oh, that’s gonna leave a mark: Tweeden says ever since the assault, she’s referred to the odious pig Franken as “Fish Lips.” I hereby pledge to do my humble utmost to see to it that that perfect nickname sticks to him like Gorilla Glue, and that he will forevermore be known around these parts as “Fish Lips Franken,” which you and I both know will do more damage to his bloated ego than just about any other thing imaginable. Better put some ice on that, Al.


Well, there’s no unseeing THIS

Um. Uhh. Errr, uhh…


Ever since the tiny elites who cluster together in tiny swaths of America’s coasts appointed themselves the moral arbiters of an entire nation that they deem to be teeming with inbred Christofascist moral lepers who deserve to be tortured and mocked into extinction, it has been our sincerest wish to see these sheltered pervs unmasked as the corrupt and predatory hypocrites we always knew they were.

For generations now we’ve been forced to endure endlessly pious chest-thumping and relentlessly condescending lectures from HIV-positive waste cases who, if they had a scrap of decency, would have publicly immolated themselves on a glowing funeral pyre made of melted crack pipes.

At the moment the entertainment industry is cannibalizing itself as a result of the sort of entitled arrogance that comes from not realizing that the endless witch hunts whose flames they’ve fanned for decades would eventually burn them at the stake, too.

For this week at least, our greatest pleasure comes in seeing comedian Louis C.K.—the lumpy and physically appalling “conscience of the comedy scene”—unmasked as a fat bald twerp who gets his jollies from masturbating to completion in front of horrified female coworkers.

I repeat: ugh. Also, ick.

Rumors of C.K.’s masturbatory proclivities have circulated for years but were mostly swept under the rug, because the entertainment industry loves few things more than a comedian who can sell out Madison Square Garden while getting everyone to laugh about white degradation and displacement.

However, that pimple finally popped last week when The New York Times ran an article in which five women—only one of them anonymous—accused the physiognomically disadvantaged comic of whipping it out and jerking it while they either watched in stunned horror or listened on the phone with extreme discomfort. During one encounter in a motel room, two accusers say his penis spat forth a quarter-billion ugly little Louis C.K. tadpoles all over his ample belly as they watched in horror.

I always liked Louis C.K. I mean, sure, he’s a garden-variety showbiz liberal and all, but he’s funny, and he seemed like a sincerely committed father who loved his kids—not that this means he doesn’t, of course. He never came off like someone I would have instantly assumed to be afflicted with the same diseased proclivities as the usual round of Hollywood pervs, freaks, and creeps, I’ll say that much. Oh well, so much for all that. By way of (very) minor mitigation, though, there IS this:

Rather than deflecting and denying like so many others, Louis admitted that the accusations were accurate.

Three groans and a half-hearted hat tip to him for owning up right away, I guess. It has the advantage of being both the right thing to do and the smart thing to do; giving the media scandal-vampires the chance to keep the squalid circus staggering along as they bay for blood in proportion to the increasing flaccidity of each successive denial and retraction only prolongs the agony—for all of us, most especially those of us who would just as soon these twisted horndogs keep their kinks to themselves.

And with this latest roll in the Hollywood hogwallow, let’s all hope that the recent spate of distasteful TMI will soon be drawing to a most welcome close. I for one have heard more than I really needed to about all of these people by now; as I said the other day, I don’t find any of it surprising in the least, and I fervently hope that there aren’t going to be any stomach-churning public “scandals” involving, say, Roseanne Barr or Ernest Borgnine forthcoming.

Or, may merciful God forbid, Sandra Bernhard (shudder).


Treason doth prosper

Aesop ain’t too happy about the Berghdal fiasco.

Six GOOD soldiers died looking for Bergdouche.

The US Army just shit on their graves.

In public. On purpose. Officially.

That should be grounds for Article 134 proceedings against the military judge in this case.

Works for me—especially seeing as how this putz of a judge openly stated that his ruling would be influenced by Trump’s statements about Bergdahl.

While the president already tweeted his displeasure with the sentence, that isn’t nearly enough.

Retire the Army Chief of Staff immediately. He’s lost all control of the organization, clearly.
Ditto for every general officer promoted to that grade between 2009 and 2017.
That military judge and World-Class Puss of All Time front-runner, Col. Jeffrey Nance, needs to be retired immediately today, if not court-martialed himself under Article 134.
If there is some statute under which he might be shot in lieu of Bergdouche, by all means, put him against a wall and open fire. Start at his toes, and work upwards. It might take several magazines to get the job done, but there’s no sense quitting after the first 50 or 100 rounds. Make every other military judge in the JAG Corps watch. 
In person.

And if Sec Army and SecDef can’t manager that level of official displeasure at the rot in the military, just cut to the chase:

Appoint the still-unpunished-five-weeks-later(!) open communist 2LT Spencer Rapone the new Chief of Staff, make the Army’s berets pink, take away their rifles, replace male combat boots with much-deserved red stiletto fuck-me-pumps, issue them crotchless boxer shorts, and put a trapdoor in the back of their issue BDU trousers so that when they surrender from here on out, they can get buttfucked by the enemy without having to unbuckle.

Again: works for me. In fact, given the current politicized state of the military’s more exalted command ranks in particular, why not just give Bergdahl a Medal Of Honor for his “heroism” and be done with it?

I’ve said it before here, and unfortunately I’m sure I’ll say it again: as long as the Left and their GOPe helper-ants are in charge of things, why anybody would consider serving in the American military is well beyond my poor ability to grasp. Who the hell even knows what it is they’re supposed to be laying their lives on the line for at this point.

“A third-rate civilian liberal arts college” update! Rotting from the head—and you better damned well believe it’s related to the rest of this post.

Before you read any further, please understand that the following paragraphs come from a place of intense devotion and loyalty to West Point. My experience as a cadet had a profound impact upon who I am and upon the course of my life, and I remain forever grateful that I have the opportunity to be a part of the Long Gray Line. I firmly believe West Point is a national treasure and that it can and should remain a vitally important source of well trained, disciplined, highly educated Army officers and civilian leaders. However, during my time on the West Point faculty (2006-2009 and again from 2013-2017), I personally witnessed a series of fundamental changes at West Point that have eroded it to the point where I question whether the institution should even remain open. The recent coverage of 2LT Spenser Rapone – an avowed Communist and sworn enemy of the United States – dramatically highlighted this disturbing trend. Given my recent tenure on the West Point faculty and my direct interactions with Rapone, his “mentors,” and with the Academy’s leadership, I believe I can shed light on how someone like Rapone could possibly graduate.

Read the rest of it. It’s…well, it’s just truly, shockingly horrible, is what it is. Vox says:

It was simply silly to believe that the military would magically survive the societal decline that has affected the rest of US society. One could hardly expect that a military that wears high heels, has no standards for its officers, and permits women to serve was going (to) shoot deserters, or even hold them accountable.

The USA is a multi-ethnic empire in rapid decline. It will fall in due course, and almost certainly before most people will believe possible. The God-Emperor is engaged in a heroic endeavor, but unfortunately, his role is almost certainly that of the tragic hero whose brave and inspiring struggle proves insufficient in the end.

Well, we have to hope not. But the overall trends are, shall we say, not encouraging. In fact, if even half of what this West Pointer says is true, “not encouraging” might qualify as the understatement of the millennium.


No class

Just another despicable “liberal” ghoul, climbing over corpses to make political bank for herself.

Sgt. La David T. Johnson died fighting for his country and our freedoms. Sadly, there is nothing anyone can say to his widow, Myeshia Johnson, to take away her pain.  Even a president who could movingly express the American people’s sense of loss—think President Ronald Reagan’s speech after the Challenger space shuttle disaster—couldn’t restore family members’ personal loss.

President Donald Trump tried and didn’t succeed with Ms. Johnson.  Neither is to blame. She had just received the worst news imaginable.  He wasn’t trained for such a difficult task.

But why is Big Hat Wilson involved?  She said she was “horrified” by what the president said.  Of course, she’s a liberal activist.  Anything he said would have horrified her.  It’s hardly news when she trashes the president.

In fact, she is an experienced practitioner in the politics of demagoguery. The Rhinestone Cowgirl took advantage of an earlier tragedy—the shooting of Trayvon Martin—to score political points.  No one benefited from her attempt to exploit his unfortunate death.

Now, she’s using the same tactic again, only this time taking advantage of the death of American soldiers confronting terrorists in the nation of Niger.

An eminently sane and reasonable piece, this is. Just wait till you see where it’s published. As for the self-proclaimed “rock star” Wilson, fuck her in the liver with a rusty railroad spike. Only someone suffused to the very ears with a truly toxic combination of mindless hatred for her opposition and the grubbiest, most deep-seated personal ambition would ever even dream of exploiting something like this. For all their faults, ain’t it funny how you never see a Republican doing it.

Update! Diplomad on Democrat “patriotism”:

I see that some whacky Congresswoman from Florida, who dresses up like Howdy-Doody for some reason, has gotten all patriotic and is blasting President Trump for being insensitive in his call to the widow of a slain SF soldier, one who died on an operation in Niger. In the course of his condolence call, he apparently used a phrase something like, “He knew what he signed up for.” This phrase has been jumped upon by the Honorable Ms Howdy Doody and the prog media as some sort of insult or insensitivity. It, of course, is a fairly standard phrase when discussing the deaths of heroes, to wit, people who knew the danger but went ahead and did their duty, regardless. The whole thing is obscene, and shows that nothing is off limits for the Progs. I can’t stand when Progs play patriot. The fake just stinks way too much.

Don’t it just. It’s always amazed me how eagerly these pustules will climb up on the coffins of people they’re usually spitting on and reviling as “babykillers” to gain some sort of political advantage. There isn’t a man Jack of them fit to lick the boots of the soldiers they’re using for their own gain. As I said before: despicable.



Just…sad. And THESE are the pathetic slime-molds we let take over and destroy our civilization?

At breakfast, in the glass-towered city of Vancouver, five-year-old Abigail looks glumly at her half-eaten bowl of cereal.

“What is it, honey?” I brush the bangs back from her face.

She lets out a big sigh. “I wish I wasn’t white.”

I start. Nothing in the parenting manuals has prepared me for that.

“All we’ve ever done is hurt people,” she continues. “I wish my skin was dark and that I had a culture.”

We live in a part of the city where immigrant families abound. Our neighbours are homesick, first-generation Mexicans, which means that salsas and pinatas and Aztec legends feature prominently at shared social gatherings. Our family regularly eats in Little India where we gush over the flavours of curry and dhal, and every February, we attend the Chinese New Year parade in the slanting rain. Plus, my husband and I are children of missionaries and harbour an acute guilt for the cultural imperialism of our forebears. To compensate, we’ve raised our children with a deep appreciation of non-Western cultures.

So when Abigail laments the colour of her white skin, part of me is programmed to protest. Is it not my moral obligation to tell her that her feelings of poor self-worth are nothing compared with the psychological ruin of real racism? Girl, everything about Canadian culture weighs in your advantage and you have no right to snivel!

The very fact that such dimwitted twaddle would be the first thing to spring to this useless bint’s mind—putting her insipid liberal politics above her own fucking child, to that child’s obvious detriment—tells you just how despicable she is. Her kind deserves absolutely everything they’re going to get, from Moslem rape gangs to their violent demise at the hands of whatever roving bloodthirsty mob their weak-kneed political-correctness inspires to ultimately come for them. The sight of their charred corpses piled in heaps or their heads on pikes scattered throughout the urban shitholes they infest will inspire nothing more than scornful laughter and a hearty “good riddance” from saner sorts.

Instead, I feel a sadness settle over me. We thought we were raising the enlightened child of the 21st century. We thought we were doing our part in setting the history record straight.

You weren’t setting a damned thing straight, you were leaving out the bits that offended your vapid Progressivism to assuage your own crippled conscience and bolster your overweening smugness. You weren’t teaching history, nor were you “correcting” it. You were corrupting it.

Yet, in doing so, it seems we have robbed our oldest child of something primal to psychological health, something elemental to her well-being as a human being: cultural roots.

I don’t know what to say.

After decades of hectoring, nonstop lectures aimed at your actual moral betters, that would have to be a very welcome first.

Via Vox, who says:

The word “fundamentalist” stems from those who go back to the basics of the religion, back to the fundamentals. It is time for us to become cultural fundamentalists, and our roots are Christianity, the Greco-Roman legacy, and the European nations.

The alternative is this societal suicide in the name of not being called racist. Of all the reasons for a society to die off, this simply must be the most utterly stupid ever witnessed on this planet.

Ain’t THAT the miserable truth.


Creeping Orwell

“Creepy” doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Ontario announced earlier this month that it will become the fourth Canadian government to fund a behavioral modification application that rewards users for making “good choices” in regards to health, finance, and the environment. The Carrot Rewards smartphone app, which will receive $1.5 million from the Ontario government, credits users’ accounts with points toward the reward program of their choice in exchange for reaching step goals, taking quizzes and surveys, and engaging in government-approved messages.

The app, funded by the Canadian federal government and developed by Toronto-based company CARROT Insights in 2015, is sponsored by a number of companies offering reward points for their services as an incentive to “learn” how to improve wellness and budget finances. According to CARROT Insights, “All offers are designed by sources you can trust like the BC Ministry of Health, Newfoundland and Labrador Government, the Heart and Stroke Foundation, the Canadian Diabetes Association, and YMCA.”  Users can choose to receive rewards for companies including SCENE, Aeroplan, Petro-Canada, or More Rewards, a loyalty program that partners with other businesses.

Carrot Rewards is free to download, and users receive 200 points just by downloading the app and answering a few questions (the answers don’t have to be correct). Sending an invitation code to friends will also gain users points, as the government is happy to track the daily activity of as many citizens as possible — which, by the way, the app can do even when it is not “active.” In order to use the app, users are giving Carrot Insights and the federal government permission to “access and collect information from your mobile device, including but not limited to, geo-location data, accelerometer/gyroscope data, your mobile device’s camera, microphone, contacts, calendar and Bluetooth connectivity in order to operate additional functionalities of the Services.”

Now watch the sheep line up, pat each other on the back over how forward-thinking they are, and sniff down their noses at anyone who seems the least bit hesitant about opening themselves up to such comprehensive government snooping, surveillance, and manipulation. Thank goodness such a thing could never, ever happen here.

Yeah, I know, that last line wasn’t funny at all.

(Via Hoyt)


Some things never change

Curious, isn’t it, how you can reach back and pluck one of these commie swine right out of the antebellum era, plop them down in the middle of present-day New York City or San Francisco, and they’ll fit right in perfectly with their fellow Progressivists? They’ll be mouthing the same platitudes, pushing the same program, and complaining about the same “issues.” The only difference will be the hairstyles—maybe.

Guess that’s what these new-ideas people consider real “progress.”

Born in 1866, Magie was an outspoken rebel against the norms and politics of her times. She was unmarried into her 40s, independent and proud of it, and made her point with a publicity stunt. Taking out a newspaper advertisement, she offered herself as a ‘young woman American slave’ for sale to the highest bidder. Her aim, she told shocked readers, was to highlight the subordinate position of women in society. ‘We are not machines,’ she said. ‘Girls have minds, desires, hopes and ambition.’

Travelling around America in the 1870s, George had witnessed persistent destitution amid growing wealth, and he believed it was largely the inequity of land ownership that bound these two forces – poverty and progress – together. So instead of following Twain by encouraging his fellow citizens to buy land, he called on the state to tax it. On what grounds? Because much of land’s value comes not from what is built on the plot but from nature’s gift of water or minerals that might lie beneath its surface, or from the communally created value of its surroundings: nearby roads and railways; a thriving economy, a safe neighbourhood; good local schools and hospitals. And he argued that the tax receipts should be invested on behalf of all.

Determined to prove the merit of George’s proposal, Magie invented and in 1904 patented what she called the Landlord’s Game. Laid out on the board as a circuit (which was a novelty at the time), it was populated with streets and landmarks for sale. The key innovation of her game, however, lay in the two sets of rules that she wrote for playing it.

Under the ‘Prosperity’ set of rules, every player gained each time someone acquired a new property (designed to reflect George’s policy of taxing the value of land), and the game was won (by all!) when the player who had started out with the least money had doubled it. Under the ‘Monopolist’ set of rules, in contrast, players got ahead by acquiring properties and collecting rent from all those who were unfortunate enough to land there – and whoever managed to bankrupt the rest emerged as the sole winner (sound a little familiar?)

The purpose of the dual sets of rules, said Magie, was for players to experience a ‘practical demonstration of the present system of land grabbing with all its usual outcomes and consequences’ and hence to understand how different approaches to property ownership can lead to vastly different social outcomes. ‘It might well have been called “The Game of Life”,’ remarked Magie, ‘as it contains all the elements of success and failure in the real world, and the object is the same as the human race in general seems to have, ie, the accumulation of wealth.’

The game was soon a hit among Left-wing intellectuals, on college campuses including the Wharton School, Harvard and Columbia, and also among Quaker communities, some of which modified the rules and redrew the board with street names from Atlantic City. Among the players of this Quaker adaptation was an unemployed man called Charles Darrow, who later sold such a modified version to the games company Parker Brothers as his own.

Here’s the really funny part, in bold:

Once the game’s true origins came to light, Parker Brothers bought up Magie’s patent, but then re-launched the board game simply as Monopoly, and provided the eager public with just one set of rules: those that celebrate the triumph of one over all.

Hm. You mean she sold out her “liberal” values and took money for her idea? From a big evil corporation? This staunch Soljer of the Peepul abandoned her dedication to The Struggle and enlightening the benighted masses, opting to take the Boeing instead? Blithely walked away from Fighting The Power with every fiber of her being, took the easy way out, and cashed in?

And that right there is as good a demonstration of the reason socialism is, was, and always will be a failure you’ll ever see: it never once takes human nature into account. The desire to improve our lot in life by our own efforts is born into each and every one of us…including our socialist “betters,” as will be shown each and every time the opportunity presents itself to them. Even when they’re in full-on lecture mode, they’re keeping an eye out for the main chance. Which is why, in every socialist country you’d care to examine, the nomenklatura are riding around in limousines, surrounded by servants, and availing themselves of every perk they can lay their hands on, and soaking up all the graft within reach.

Cross their palms with silver and Higher Socialist Principle takes a fucking hike every time. They just don’t want any of YOU nasty, grubby, workaday villains cashing in alongside them, that’s all. As another great socialist once said: “I do think at a certain point you’ve made enough money.” Emphasis, always and forever, on “YOU.”


Can I call ’em or what?

The other day I said this:

Is Hannity still on Fox? If so, look for some sort of thin-gruel allegations against him too, sexual harassment or something else, before too long.

But even I didn’t expect them to exploit their victory this fast.

The latest conservative commentator to be accused of sexual misconduct is host Sean Hannity who was accused on the Pat Cambell Show by lawyer, political commentator, and frequent Fox News guest Debbie Schlussel. Debbie claimed on the show that Sean Hannity asked Schlussel to come back to his hotel twice after a book-signing event. Does this constitute sexual misconduct?

Doesn’t really matter. There’s blood in the water, the libtards smell it, and—unable to lay a finger on Trump, who doesn’t much give a shit what they shriek about, and doesn’t have to so far—they intend to lap up every drop.

Maybe there’s something to it, and maybe there ain’t. That, too, doesn’t matter. Last time I checked, verbally hitting on a girl doesn’t constitute sexual harassment, in any sort of legal sense. What does matter is that the Progressivists will use every tool in the box, for just as long as we let them. Fox News, now busily converting itself into CNN Lite under the prodding of the Left, isn’t the vehicle to stand up to them. The sad fact is, there really isn’t one right now.

But we’re gonna have to find one, or create one. I know I said the other day that I’m no fan of O’Reilly, and I ain’t. I never liked Hannity much, either; much as his heart may be in the right place, he’s completely inept, one of the most hapless and incompetent debaters I ever saw.

But he’s going to need defending against the shrill harpies now after his scalp. I don’t know what Schlussel is thinking here, or what axe she may have to grind against Hannity. But on the face of it, I don’t think inviting her back to his hotel constitutes much of anything beyond an ill-considered faux pas on the part of a guy who probably should have known better. For her to launch this assault now is puzzling, and worrisome. Whatever she hopes to achieve with it, it will NOT redound to the advantage of the side she has supposedly supported for years.

But if all that really happened is that Hannity invited her back to his hotel—no groping, no career-limiting threats, no intimidation, no nasty little quid pro quos explicit or implied…well, exactly who among us expect our TV personalities to grow into plaster saints, anyway?

And who among those who will piously express patented Lefty OUTRAGE! about this nothingburger will be the first to mention serial rapist Bill Clinton in the same breath, pray tell?


Crony socialism, anyone?

Well, it’s official: the government of the state of North Carolina has been replaced by the NCAA, and the will of the people as lawfully and properly expressed through their elected representatives be damned.

CHARLOTTE, N.C. – The NCAA says it will consider North Carolina as a host for championship events again after the state rolled back a law that limited protections for LGBT people.

In a statement Tuesday, the governing body said its Board of Governors had reviewed moves to repeal repealed the so-called “bathroom bill” and replace it with a compromise law. The NCAA said the new law “meets the minimal NCAA requirements” while expressing some concerns about provisions within it.

The statement says a majority of the board “reluctantly voted” to allow for consideration of bids from North Carolina during current deliberations for sites running through 2022. Events for the 2017-18 season that have already been awarded to the state — such as opening-weekend men’s basketball tournament games in Charlotte — will remain in place.

“We are actively determining site selections, and this new law has minimally achieved a situation where we believe NCAA championships may be conducted in a nondiscriminatory environment,” the board’s statement reads. “If we find that our expectations of a discrimination-free environment are not met, we will not hesitate to take necessary action at any time.”

You will be made to care, and Badthink will be punished by the duly authorized officials of the State of NC(AA).

It’s been sick-making to watch as political and business leaders here have crawled on their bellies to avoid offending various corporate entities promoting the cause of allowing mentally disturbed men access to women’s bathrooms. They can take their sportsball games and jam ’em up their flue for all me—all the way up, as far as it will go. But then again, I haven’t paid the slightest attention to any of that crap in decades, so they’re not likely to care much what I think anyway.



Y’know, if you had asked me twenty or even ten years ago (hell, even five) I’d have sworn that I’d never, ever get tired of women talking candidly about, showing off, or otherwise calling attention to their, uhh, naughty bits—much less confirmed hotties like Gwyneth Paltrow, Cate Blanchett, and Emma Watson. But man, I just gotta say it: between all that and the relentlessly revolting pig Lena Dunham added in for what seems to be nothing but pure spite on somebody’s part, and…man, I wish they would all just dry up and blow away already.

And just don’t let’s get started on “pussy hats,” awright? Jeez.

Yep, at this point I’d have to say the mystique and fascination are gone for good, and if I never see another one—be it artistic representation, photograph, or in the flesh—well, honestly, I’m good with that. Never thought I’d say that, or could even imagine saying it, but there it is.

Thanks a pantload there, “ladies.”


Liberal killjoys claim another victory

Y’know, this Progressivist utopia sure looks like a grim, joyless place.

After its nearly century and a half run, Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus plans to shut down “The Greatest Show On Earth.”

The historic American spectacle will deliver its final show in May, says Kenneth Feld, the chairman and CEO of Feld Entertainment, the producer of Ringling.

Feld announced the news on the company website Saturday night, citing declining ticket sales — which dipped even lower as the company retired its touring elephants.

“This, coupled with high operating costs, made the circus an unsustainable business for the company,” Feld says.

Ringling has been phasing out elephants as a result of shifting public tastes and criticism from animal rights groups over the well-being of the animals.

I can’t recollect ever seeing any convincing evidence that Ringling Bros was mistreating their elephants; I suppose it’s just possible that there might be some, but I’d be willing to venture a solid guess that the psychotic lunacy of the animal-rights crowd is far more well-established. If those nutjobs told me it was raining outside, I’d check twice before reaching for the ol’ bumbershoot.

Be all that as it may, the one thing I could never get past is this: why would they? Occam’s Razor, always a useful implement for slicing through liberal-fascist bullshit, definitely says they wouldn’t. The elephants were a huge part of their livelihood, as is adequately demonstrated by the fact that without them they’re folding up the Big Top for good. Given that, plus the tremendous expense involved in even bringing elephants here in the first place, it would make absolutely no sense for them to abuse the critters from a business standpoint alone, all ethical considerations aside.

All that plus the solid fact that, as Vox says, SJWs always lie, and…well, I know what conclusion I can’t help but reach. Your mileage may etc.

Either way, it’s a damned shame. My aunt took me, my brother, and my cousin to see the circus when we were kids, and I still remember it well all these years later. It was an awesome show, a pure delight for a youngster from start to finish; they’re going to be here Feb 1st through the 5th, which is my birthday, so if I can swing the tickets, I’m gonna take my little one out for the last local hurrah of the Greatest Show On Earth.

Y’know, if anybody ever steps back to tot up the sum total of what Progressivism has cost us, there’ll wind up being a bounty on the juiceless twerps.


Ogabe finally cracks down on immigration!

Or, put another way: Obama supports destruction of present-day Underground Railroad for refugees fleeing enslavement under communism.

Washington (CNN)President Barack Obama is ending the longstanding “wet foot, dry foot” policy that allows Cubans who arrive in the United States without a visa to become permanent residents, the administration announced Thursday.

The move, which wasn’t previously outlined and is likely one of the final foreign policy decisions of Obama’s term, terminates a decades-long policy that many argued amounted to preferential treatment for a single group of migrants.

“By taking this step, we are treating Cuban migrants the same way we treat migrants from other countries,” Obama wrote in a statement Thursday.

“The United States, a land of immigrants, has been enriched by the contributions of Cuban-Americans for more than a century,” he continued. “Since I took office, we have put the Cuban-American community at the center of our policies. With this change we will continue to welcome Cubans as we welcome immigrants from other nations, consistent with our laws.”

No word on what he might do to any Cuban “DREAMers” among the refugees from communist slavery, but I’m sure we can safely make certain assumptions about that. Mexicans criminals and drug lords will still be welcomed with open arms, of course. And Muslim combatants will continue to be actively imported. But freedom-loving Cubans who are inclined to vote against seeing the system that enslaved, oppressed, imprisoned, and tortured them consolidated further here? Back to the gulags with you, comrades.

I will refrain from commenting on the attendant irony. Seven more days of this villainous toerag, folks. Which will probably turn out to be the longest seven days of our national life.

Update! The Bear points out that Vox’s take on this story is different from mine, and rightly so. I don’t really disagree with Vox on this, of course; as I’m sure all of y’all know, my point wasn’t about the desirability of allowing unfettered immigration from commie slave states or anywhere else, but about Obama’s highly selective immigration enforcement, and his contemptibly self-serving, politically-motivated hypocrisy in same. I especially like this bit:

Permitting Cubans to immigrate to the USA was far more harmful to Americans than simply invading and overthrowing Castro would have been.

True, dat. Although I have to say I don’t know how harmful Cuban immigration really was; seems to me that having an influx of staunchly anti-communist people who also see the Democrat Socialists for what they really are can’t be all that bad. Either way, the shit really gets stirred when the esteemed John C Wright jumps in:

I recall the days when you referred to yourself as a libertarian, Vox. Now your obsession has reached a point where, given a choice between siding with Castro’s slave state or rethinking your position on racial matters, you side with Castro. Given a choice between siding with Obama, who fundamentally hates every thing you love and who desecrates everything you hold sacred, and rethinking your position on race, you side with Obama.

On a personal note, the Left stopped seeming like humans to me and started seeming like remorseless enemy monsters in human form was when I heard them applauding the midnight military style raid on the house of Elian Gonzales, and cheering the news that the child would be returned to the island sized concentration camp. They hate liberty that much, the Left. They hate humanity, hate life, hate reason,truth and beauty.

Yet each of them was born as an innocent wee babe,cute and cuddly and poopy as were we all.

What changed them? What turns men into monsters?

I suggest that it is the lure of simple, elegant, powerful ideas which become like idols to them. The idol demands a small sacrifice at first, then more, then more.

I have always wondered why the first time one of them found his powerful idea and his cause was leading him into siding with what he himself despised and knew to be wrong, no friend warned him.

Strong words indeed; Vox responds politely, ably, and at length, and goes on to quote this:

American of Cuban descent, second generation. I have a few thoughts.

First, I agree with Obama’s decision even if I think it was done in bad faith. The US has enough people and it doesn’t need any more. The ones who have been arriving as of late have not been the best and the brightest, and have added nothing to the US except for more debt through social services and depressed wages.

Second, I know that this was done because of the elections. Obama is a petty man. Had Hillary won, Obama probably would have sat this one through and let Hillary take it down. Cubans hate the Clintons anyway, so there would be no love lost there. But Steve Sailor has this right, Cubans went for Trump 54%. They voted for him with the same percentage as white women. So yeah, a petty move by a petty man. Although good was done, it was still done under false presences. Had this been an honest move, he would have done it before the election, right around the time relations with Cuba were normalized.

Third, and this isn’t something anyone here is going to like to hear, but it must be said. For the poster who stated that the “Exile” should now go back, the “Exile” is dead. Literally. Those Cubans who considered themselves “The Exile” were baby boomers/greatest generation of which most have died. The last member of that generation is my grandmother who is so old she can neither speak nor move. Their children, the Baby Boomers, either came to the US as young children or were born here. They are somewhat culturally Cuban, but this is the gist, the Cuba which they are culturally a part of is no longer alive. CUBA, is dead. Dead dead dead. They may think they are Cubans, but most Cubans don’t acknowledge them as such. Indeed, they are very different in values and appearance.

The writer goes on to make some interesting points, ones which I hadn’t previously considered or been aware of. All of it is worth a look.


To dine with the devil

Don’t do it, Donald. Just don’t do it.

President-elect Donald Trump invited former failed Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney to dinner as he is considering the former Massachusetts governor for a position in his administration.

The pair was joined by Trump’s chief of staff pick, Reince Priebus.

It remains unclear whether Romney will serve in Trump’s administration as Secretary of State, although he reportedly wants the job.

A case of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer, maybe? I’m willing to reserve judgment and wait and see—as I only just said, he isn’t even president yet—but dammit, I still don’t like it. Romney is the very walking, talking definition of an establishment RINO-cuck, and what Trump might imagine he brings to the table as a prospective SecState I’m sure I don’t know. Unless it would be complete puppyish obedience to the will of Da Boss, maybe.

In the end, here’s what it comes down to, seems to me: are we draining the swamp here? Or just topping it up?


Out of touch, out of ideas, out of power

And good riddance.

Hey Democrats, want help to rally the country around Donald Trump? Here’s a great idea: Have a crowd of wealthy, out-of-touch Manhattan liberals (who can afford $849 tickets to “Hamilton”) boo Vice President-elect Mike Pence while the cast of the Broadway show lectures him on diversity.

The Democratic Party’s alienation from the rest of America was on full display at the Richard Rodgers Theatre on Friday night. And the left seems completely oblivious to how ridiculous it looks to the rest of the United States. Professors at Yale and Columbia universities and other elite schools postpone exams and cancel classes for students who could not deal with the election results. Kids in Washington schools cut class with tacit approval from administrators to march in protest of the results of a free and fair election.

See, that’s the whole problem: it was entirely too free and fair, so of course they lost.

School officials in Montgomery County offer grief counselors to “help students process any concerns or feelings they have about the election.” (Funny, I don’t recall anyone canceling exams or offering my kids grief counselors when Barack Obama was elected).

People in the American heartland see all this, and they shake their heads in disgust. Today’s Democrats have become a party of coastal elites completely disconnected from the rest of America. Doubt it? Take a look at a county-by-county map of the 2016 presidential election. You can drive some 3,000 miles across the entire continental United States — from sea to shining sea — without driving through a single county that voted for Hillary Clinton.

Or running across a single person who will ever see Hamilton, or gives even one shit about it. Meanwhile, how did the simpering, mewling, self-righteous pussies in the Hamilton cast react to a visit from Her Royal Majesty? Oh, exactly as you would expect:

No matter where you fall on the topic of the “Hamilton” cast being right or wrong for their actions, it’s clear that Democrats received a very different reception from the Broadway cast when they visited during the election.

In October, in the heat of a brutal Presidential campaign, the cast of “Hamilton” hosted a fundraiser for Democratic nominee, Hillary Clinton.

While the “Hamilton” cast ‘heroically’ stood up to Pence, they had no problem slobbering all over Hillary with hugs, kisses and gushing selfies.

But the “Hamilton” cast fan-girling over Democrat politicians does not stop there.

Of course it doesn’t. Now ask yourselves again why we hate you, liberal douchebags. And enjoy your next four years of butthurt whining, trembling in fear, and smackdown after smackdown from President Trump. I know I will be.

(Both via Insty)




"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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