Cold Fury

Harshing your mellow since 9/01

Good riddance redux

Chapter and verse on yet another thing Trump is right about: double-dealing, backstabbing, self-serving prick John Effing McCain.

Perhaps the reason why McCain overlooked those inconvenient details is because he was a central figure in fueling hysteria about Russian influence in the election after Trump won the presidency. At the same time, Kramer was working behind the scenes along with Simpson to legitimize the dossier, including confirming the explosive news that McCain personally delivered it to Comey in early December 2016. Collectively, it produced the fertile soil from which the Trump-Russia election collusion hoax would grow after Trump’s inauguration.

Sadly, rather than use his stature and leadership skills to soothe a nation rocked by the surprise election of Donald Trump, John McCain instead poured rhetorical gasoline on a smoldering body politic. Working in tandem with shell-shocked Obama officials desperate to find an excuse for Hillary Clinton’s humiliating loss, McCain publicly pounded the idea that Russian “hacking” was the reason for her defeat. His accusations escalated from initially decrying Russia’s sketchy interference in the election to calling it an “act of war” by December 2016.

Many people now insist that it is somehow unfair or disrespectful to examine McCain’s role in the biggest political scandal in American history because he is gone. Although the president has a valid reason to be angry about McCain’s role in this scandal, Trump’s impetuous remarks only obscure the more serious charges about the late senator’s complicity in fomenting the destructive post-election Russia hysteria.

The American people deserve a full accounting of all the players involved, even if the facts are unsettling for some to reconcile. The unwarranted and yet unproven Russia collusion hoax will forever taint the Trump presidency and has resulted in real life consequences for innocent people, not to mention the upheaval of our political system. No one should be shielded from responsibility.

“Impetuous”? The hell you say. Like the preceding ones, Trump’s latest brusque Juanny Mav slam was right on target, nothing more than the plainspoken truth. McCain was slime, a perfectly representative sample of your basic Mark-1 Mod-0 Deep State sewer rat; his treachery and viciousness, along with the gratuitous damage he did to the nation, exude a stench that will long outlast any other aspect of his quite dubious legacy. From my own obit after he finally assumed room temperature:

Some sort of scientific study should be done on just what in the hell is wrong with Arizona voters that they could vote to re-elect such a blight again and again, and follow up by sending a like-minded excrescence, Jeff Flake, to DC as his cohort. I’m guessing it’s something in the water, maybe.

McCain was the pluperfect example of absolutely everything wrong with Mordor On The Potomac and its despicable denizens—of the loathsome, twisted genotype colloquially known as “professional politicans.” His posthumous parting cheap-shot at Trump was petty, cowardly, and demeaning—to McCain, and no one else. It was the act of a true and irredeemable asshole, a jerk nonpareil; his forbidding Trump to attend his funeral likewise. Petty spite of such a low nature is John McCain’s proper legacy; may he be long remembered for it.

Amen. Remembered—and abhorred.

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Putting the boot in on Boot

Pissing over a pissyv little pissant. Preamble:

It is odd to watch Boot bemoan his ostracism from the right when the upsides have been a Washington Post column and contributor gigs on cable news. And it took a certain mania to solicit reviews from people who, I suspect, have steered clear of The Corrosion of Conservatism for old times’ sake. When a former friend publicly burnishes his own rectitude by casting doubt on yours, the most gracious thing to do is keep silent.

I’m not as gracious as others, so permit me to accept Boot’s invitation. Perhaps the encounter between two conservative writers, who vigorously objected to Donald Trump during the 2016 campaign but took different paths after his election, will clarify the American right’s internal tensions. The divergence has proved poisonous to friendships. It has derailed some careers while catapulting others (on both sides of the divide). So be it.

Behind the shifting lines of friendship and enmity among America’s conservative pundit class lie big questions: Should the right make peace with today’s autonomy-maximizing, technocratic arrangement? Or does our moment require a more combative posture toward that arrangement? Is conservatism merely an adjunct to liberalism—liberalism, but a little less? Or is it something else? Does the conservative vocation involve aggressively defending and expanding the empire of liberal norms and proceduralism? Or, is it about offering a substantive vision of the common good, one in which autonomy and liberal norms and procedures take their rightful place but are neither fetishized nor treated as ends in themselves?

Or is it perhaps time to consider another option: stand aside and watch as what we’ve been pleased to misnomer “conservatism” for all these years continues to shrink away until it vanishes into the ether, a victim of its cringing eagerness to hoover up whatever measly crumbs Left/liberalism might deign to toss out for their tame “opposition” to consume? But on to the pleasure of reducing the contemptible Max Boot to his constituent atoms:

Max Boot is among those who see conservatism as an adjunct to liberalism. He takes it as self-­evident that his style of conservatism is the only kind with moral legitimacy; ­everything else is Continental “chauvinism,” “blood-and-soil” ­thuggery, or odious Trumpism.

He was, and remains, a social and economic liberal (in the classical sense). He was, and remains, militarily hawkish. He regrets supporting the Iraq War, mainly on prudential grounds, but he still supports nation building. He has reconsidered Second Amendment absolutism. He is a bit more concerned about climate change. Most notably, he is now a full-on progressive on matters racial and sexual.

“Whether I realize it or not,” he says, “I have benefited from my skin color and my gender—and those of a different gender or sexuality or skin color have suffered because of it.” (The worst thing about Boot’s recent roaming beyond his writerly comfort zone—military history and counterinsurgency—is this dripping earnestness. Has any major American columnist had so little room in his soul for anything besides moralistic fulmination and wonkery?)

The positions he has now abandoned—which weren’t all that different from the ones he holds now—Boot attributes to “brainwashing” at the hands of his former editors at the Wall Street Journal (where I also worked for several years, though we didn’t overlap) and the wider conservative intellectual milieu. Boot always depicts himself as the golly-gee naif—“I had not realized how tribal politics was and how divorced it could be from principles or conviction”—and his ex-friends and ex-colleagues as craven crypto-bigots. Thus, he neatly shirks all intellectual responsibility for a lifetime spent peddling ideas.

So, what did conservatism ever mean to Max Boot?

I’d guess the same as it did for temporary faux-conservatives like Jennifer Rubin or Andrew Sullivan: a convenient, comforting citadel from which they could advocate for Endless War after having had the wits frightened out of them when the 9/11 attacks hit just a little too close to home for them—quite literally, in some cases.

Boot is keeping company with all the other gormless NeverTrump irrelevancies like George Will, Jeff Fake, Kap’n Bill “Krunchberries” Kristol, and NRO entire in their sudden but well-earned obscurity. And really, the thing that pulled the rug out from under them all is also the very thing that makes any attempt to resuscitate or defend now-remaindered “conservativism” itself pointless: the ground has shifted under their very feet, without their knowlege or permission, and they lack the legerdemain to adapt. The political terrain has been radically altered, necessitating an equally-radical new approach by anyone hoping to negotiate it successfully.

The Old Guard is now simply lost, with only a tattered, outdated map by which to navigate. Whatever influence Boot and the rest may once have (arguably) enjoyed, they for sure and certain have none now. Their input is no longer solicited, needed, or even wanted, least of all by the Left from which they now must openly seek succor. If moribund “conservatism” has become naught but a dead end, a nullity, then how much more profoundly so must its false advocates be? Even abandoning their gossamer-thin masquerade can avail the homeless NeverTrumpTard vagabonds but little now, as they all drift away on a new, fresher breeze like the wraiths of nothingness that, despite their pretention and posturing, they always really were. The denouement:

If Trump’s election really is a ­Hitlerian-scale catastrophe for the West, then civic friendship between Trump America and non-Trump America is impossible. And indeed, that is a premise shared by the #­Resistance and the most hysterical of the Never Trumpers, Boot chief among them. They speak of “defending democracy,” as Boot does throughout his memoir, but what they really mean is defending the technocratic liberal consensus, even if that means undoing the popular will as it was expressed at the ballot box.

We should decline to go along.

Trust me, we will. In fact, most of us aren’t even listening to babbling boobs like Boot anymore, those who ever even did. He’d probably have difficulty “influencing” the corner bodega enough to cream and sugar the coffee for him these days, I’d bet. Which public loss of face is the sharpest cut of all for people like these; for them, it’s the blow to the ego that really smarts.

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Eating their own

Okay, okay, so maybe I should have phrased my title a little more carefully.

Actress and left-wing activist Debra Messing caught major backlash from social justice warriors after her woke International Women’s Day post of empowering vagina cupcakes was deemed transphobic. In the current year, not all women have vaginas, or something.

Messing, a privileged cis-gendered white woman, was eventually forced into an apology for her transgression.

“Happy International Women’s Day! Powerful, beautiful, and sweet,” the “Will & Grace” actress posted Friday, captioning an image of cupcakes that look like vaginas.

Most of the comments on the post are critical of Messing for apologizing for the photo or for posting the “nasty” photo in the first place. But the limited comments critical of the photo’s apparent exclusion of trans “women” seemed to hold a lot of weight for the actress.

My personal favorite is the first one listed:

So when are we gonna stop equating genitalia to gender?

Ummmm…okay, moving right along.

“I want to apologize to my trans sisters,” she wrote. “This photo was supposed to be light, & sassy. The first thing I thought when I saw this photo was ‘wow how wonderful. Each one is unique in color and shape and size.’

“The porn industry has perpetuated this myth of what a ‘beautiful’ vagina looks like and as a result there are women who feel shame or insecure about the shape of the vulva,” Messing continued. “I loved that this picture said ‘every single one is beautiful and unique and that’s powerful.’ I did not, however, think ‘but there are innumerable beautiful, unique and powerful women who don’t have a vagina.[‘] And I SHOULD have. And for that I am so so sorry.”

Pretty sure that there’s not a single true word in the third-to-last sentence, excepting “I did not think.” And forgive me if I’m missing something here—I’m quite sure I’m not near “woke” enough to grasp the advanced scientific concepts involved—but if someone has NOT had the requisite chopadicktomy or addadicktome surgery, should they really be calling themselves “transgender”? I mean, isn’t having had gender-reassignment surgery sort of the defining condition for being a transgender, rather than, y’know, a boring old garden-variety transvestite?

Ahh, to hell with it; let’s get back to the dope Messing’s lovely, empowering snootchycakes. I wanted to download the pic and embed it for y’all’s edification, but couldn’t find a way to do it. So the image is here, and the horrible things are every bit the appetite suppressant you’d expect them to be.

Now don’t get me wrong here, folks: I have whiled away many a happy hour just staring intensely at various real-world, fleshly versions up close and quite personal, utterly captivated by their matchless allure. Wonderful things, them vaginers. They just never seem to get old—their appeal never tarnishes, their luster never dims. I don’t know any red-blooded cisgender binary fascist misogynistic male H8888R who doesn’t feel exactly the same way. In fact, I wish I had one close by and ready to hand right now. I bet you do too.

But dammit, keep ’em off of the baked goods, excepting maybe for novelty or bachelor-party purposes. They ain’t food, and their power can only be diminished by such irreverence, rendering them no more than mundane and uninteresting. I know the entire point of being a Leftard is to ruin, sully, and destroy—taking all the magic out of our most revered talismans; making meaningful things meaningless; uglifying our art; producing atonal “music” that sickens rather than elevates; all that witless, iconoclastic rot. But could you guys maybe leave off trying to demystify and cheapen everything, just this once?

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The powerlust is strong with this one

Well, that sure didn’t take long.

What a difference a day makes.

Hillary Clinton made headlines Monday when she told a local New York news channel that she would not runfor president in 2020.

“I’m not running, but I’m going to keep on working and speaking and standing up for what I believe,” the former presidential nominee told News 12 Westchester. She insisted that she would remain relevant and has no plans of “going anywhere.”

But late Tuesday, Maggie Haberman, a political reporter for the New York Times, tweeted that she spoke with a person close to the former secretary of state. The unnamed source said Clinton was not trying to “be emphatic and close the door on running” with the comment and was apparently “surprised” at the reaction.

“The person also says [Clinton] is extremely unlikely to run, but that she remains bothered that she’s expected to close the door on it when, say, John Kerry isn’t. She has told her team she is waiting at least to see the Mueller report,” Haberman tweeted.

Yeah, I can see that mattering to her quite a lot. For one thing, if the Koup Klux Klowns can’t pull something at least resembling a win out of the flaming dumpster against all odds, then what hope does she have? Plus, there’s still the small related matter of her, Obama’s, and their Deep State unindicted co-conspirators’ sedition possibly being brought fully to light as an unintended consequence of the Mueller shitshow, and of something resembling justice being visited upon at least some of them in consequence. She’ll definitely want to weigh the odds of being manacled and frogmarched off of a campaign-stop stage to begin a long term of Rockin’ Orange in her 2020 deliberations.

I’m sure Trump would greatly enjoy whipping her doddering, gin-soaked ass a second time—he’s Tweeted to that effect, I believe—and should I manage to not croak or go senile by then, I’ll get a lot of laughs out of making further sport of the shambolic old trainwreck myself. But seriously, folks: isn’t about time for the Clintons to just go away?

How can you tell she’s lying update! Hey, didn’t a bunch of people lecture the hell out of Trump that it was critically crucially vitally crucially critical that he unequivocally pledge to accept the results of the election, no matter how fraudulent or rigged it may have been, at a debate somewhere? Or did I just dream it?

“I was the first person who ran for president without the protection of the Voting Rights Act, and I will tell you, it makes a really big difference. And it doesn’t just make a difference in Alabama and Georgia; it made a difference in Wisconsin, where the best studies that have been done said somewhere between 40 [thousand] and 80,000 people were turned away from the polls because of the color of their skin, because of their age, because of whatever excuse could be made up to stop a fellow American citizen from voting.”
— Former secretary of state Hillary Clinton, at the annual “Bloody Sunday” commemorative service, Selma, Ala., March 3, 2019

“Just think about it: Between 2012, the prior presidential election where we still had the Voting Rights Act, and 2016, when my name was on the ballot, there were fewer voters registered in Georgia than there had been those prior four years.”

Astoundingly, the WaPo’s Fact Checker checked, and the fact is every word of that was a lie. Including “and” and “the.”

Wisconsin was not one of the states covered by Section 4 (the only part of the VRA that was struck down—M) when the court ruled in 2013, so, right off the bat, Clinton’s claim that this “made a difference in Wisconsin” is unfounded. Georgia was covered by Section 4, but Clinton’s claim that total voter registration declined in that state from 2012 to 2016 is false; it increased.

At the high end of the scale, the UW-Madison study estimates that 23,252 voters were “deterred” by the voter ID requirement. That’s just a hair above Trump’s 22,748 margin in the state. Mayer and DeCrescenzo did not ask survey respondents whom they would have voted for because their research was funded by the office of the Dane County clerk. In any case, Clinton said 40,000, not 23,000.

Where does Clinton get the 80,000 figure for the high end of her estimate?

She made it up, natch. Because that’s what she does. Because she’s an inveterate, congenital liar. At this point, she’s probably gotten herself on the outside of enough high-proof popskull over the years that she doesn’t even know whether her statements are true or not; she needs them to be true, they make her feel better, so they’re true to her. Ed Morrissey points out another problem with Her Herness’s increasingly pathetic, self-serving rationalizations:

But what about the “best studies” that showed voter-ID deterring up to 80,000 Wisconsin voters? That claim was based on a study done in two counties with a sample of fewer than 300 voters. The study’s authors warned readers not to extrapolate their findings statewide, but that fell on deaf ears. It also ignores an inconvenient fact for Hillary, which is that she didn’t generate much enthusiasm among African-American voters anywhere, in states with or without voter-ID laws.

Nor was this phenomenon limited to black voters. Four months ago, I noted in a column at The Week that Donald Trump didn’t win the blue-wall states as much as Hillary lost them. This wasn’t a voter-ID issue — it was a candidate-ID issue.

Oh, voters ID’d her all right—as a vile, powermad, dishonest, narcissistic hack with nothing but contempt for the “little people” she fraudulently claims to care so very deeply about. Despite the orchestrated “outrage” over it, Trump was no more than perfectly honest and accurate when he said she was “such a nasty woman.” Ace blasts away at another problem, with another set of loathsome phonies:

And yet a certain breed of “True Conservative” still thinks this creature was an upstanding and honest candidate for President who should have been elected rather than the Drumpfenkonig.

If you’re feeling as if you might need a shower after getting all grubby from this immersion in sleaze, well, I sympathize. But I gotta also say I’m happy that Hillary!™ has apparently decided to ditch those boring, unflattering Soviet-style pantsuits and tunics of hers in favor of an attractive new look for Failed Campaign 2020 that better suits her personality and style, as you can see from this pic of Her Herness on a recent likker-store run:

Gorn.jpg


That’s the stuff, Hills! Nice dress, and I’m digging the gauntlets too. You never looked better, like real Presidential material. No, really—you go, girl.

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HORRORS!

The truth hurts.

The West Virginian GOP displayed a poster in the state Capitol implying that Democratic Minnesota Rep. Ilhan Omar was a terrorist Friday.

The poster shows the World Trade Center in flames on 9/11 with the caption “‘NEVER FORGET’ — YOU SAID…” with a photo of Omar underneath it. The second half of the caption reads, “I AM THE PROOF – YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN.”

Actually, I don’t think the post “implies” that Omar is a terrorist per se; that kinda misses the actual point. Rather, it flatly states that she’s a radical, jihad-supporting, Jew-hating, anti-American Muslim. Which, y’know, is true. The assertion that she “is the proof…you have forgotten”—which is also true—is upheld by the very fact that, for some unfathomable reason, this nation saw fit to blindly import unvetted Muslim hordes from places like Somalia, Syria, and elsewhere even after having suffered the 9/11 atrocities—naked acts of war perpetrated in the name of Islam, by Muslims, for the greater glory of Allah.

The very fact that a hijab-wearing terrorist sympathizer from Somalia*, of all fucking places, is now treating all and sundry to hate-filled, Islam-inspired harangues from a pulpit in the very seat of American government—having been elected out of an overwhelmingly Muslim-majority enclave in, of all places, Minnefuckingsota, then sworn in on the biggest Koran Nancy Pelosi could find as the cherry on top of the obnoxious-triumphalism sundae—is simply grotesque. Also note this:

Democrat Ilhan Omar made history as she become one of the first two Muslim women to enter Congress – and did so with her head covered.

The 37-year-old who came to the U.S. as a refugee from Somali represents the fifth district of Minnesota, which includes all of Minneapolis and some of its suburbs.

Democrats were to formally end the ban on religious head coverings on the House floor on Thursday afternoon as part of a package of rules to govern the House. That package changes the ban on head coverings to exclude ‘non-religious headdress.’

Naturally, baseball caps, fedoras, cowboy hats, and other such common, all-American headgear remain strictly verboten. I repeat: all of this—ALL of this—after having suffered the 9/11 atrocities.

“Forgotten”? Oh, I’d say that’s putting the thing WAY too damned mildly, if you ask me. Makes the occasional Proggy wailing about the disgraceful, uniquely American scourge of “Islamophobia” seem head-twistingly Kafkaesque, don’t it?

*9/11 isn’t the only thing we’ve forgotten; Somalia, remember, was where the Black Hawk Down disaster took place—another hideous atrocity, one which to this day has never been avenged, and won’t ever be. So anybody wanna maybe try explaining to me why it is we ever saw fit to bring even ONE of the filthy, murdering savages here, thereby “fundamentally transforming” a goodly chunk of Minneapolis into Little Mogadishu?

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We must destroy the industry in order to save it

Take ’em down. ALL THE WAY down.

The Post published its False and Defamatory Accusations negligently and with actual knowledge of falsity or a reckless disregard for the truth.… As one of the world’s leading news outlets, the Post knew but ignored the importance of verifying damaging, and in this case, incendiary accusations … The negligence and actual malice of the Post is demonstrated by its utter and knowing disregard for the truth available in the complete video of the January 18 incident…

That’s a quote from legal eagle L. Lin Wood’s lawsuit on behalf of Nick Sandmann against the WaPo to the delicious tune of 250 million smackeroos, every penny of which Sandmann of right ought to collect. And if paying up for their wilfull, malicious slander puts the WaPo out of business, hey, I’m good with that too. But Vichy GOPe pundit David Catron frets:

This incident enraged a public whose trust in the “news” media is already at an all time low and alarmed many honest journalists and scholars who fear that the increasing number of such abuses by the press will cause an overreaction by the courts resulting in undesirable restrictions on the First Amendment. Indeed, confirming the validity of such concerns, Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas just wrote a concurring opinion in which he suggested that NYT v. Sullivan, a landmark First Amendment ruling involving defamation cases, should be revisited…

NYT v. Sullivan is regarded as sacrosanct by the media. The general gist of the ruling is that news organizations can’t be sued for defaming public figures unless they act with “actual malice.”To clear that bar, an outlet must be shown to have published a claim about a public figure knowing that it was untrue or with reckless disregard concerning its accuracy. A good recent example involves a false story about Melania Trump published by the Daily Mail in the U.S. The First Lady sued whereupon that “news” publication was forced to pay $2.9 million in damages.

And it’s precisely what the WaPo did too: they knowingly and with reckless disregard for the truth attacked somehow who in no way met the description of “public figure”, purely for political purposes. They damned well should be pay the price for it. Happily, it ain’t just the WaPo Lin is sinking his teeth into:

The list of news organizations Wood is likely to go after includes the New York Times, CNN, NPR, GQ, the Atlantic, and the Hill. Possible defendants also include individual “journalists” who participated in the slander of Sandmann. They include David Brooks, Andrea Mitchell, Chuck Todd, Kurt Eichenwald, Michelle Boorstein, and Maggie Haberman. How will lawsuits against these outlets and journalists save the First Amendment? The news business is a business. And, as Mark Hemingway points out in the Federalist, bad journalism hurts the bottom line…

In other words, there’s a pretty straightforward way to improve the reputation of reporters, fend off accusations of fake news, and keep the courts from reassessing important constitutional precedents protecting freedom of the press — journalists need to start fulfilling the mission assigned to them by the authors of the First Amendment. The role of the news media in a free society is to keep all politicians honest. “The only security for all is in a free press,” as Jefferson put it. But the press isn’t “free” if a journalist may only criticize one party and remain employed.

It isn’t even “the press” as Jefferson understood it; they are propagandists, not true journalists but political operatives deceitfully promoting an ideology—aiding and abetting the Deep State/Uniparty coup against the American people and the man they elected President. Their role is not to impart factual reportage to an interested and informed public, but to mislead and misinform them. They are exactly what Trump has said they are: enemies of the people, purveyors of Fake News, dangerous vipers in liberty’s fragile nest. As such, their “freedom”—to malign, smear, and destroy—is not sacrosanct but forfeit, deserving of no 1A protection at all. Should they ever decide to get back to being honest reporters we can talk about their “rights.” Not a moment before. Until then, they have none.

The tsunami of lawsuits that is about to hit the press pursuant to the Sandmann disgrace will shake up the news industry. A lot of outlets will lose a lot of money, and a lot of journalists will lose their jobs. This is good news for those of us who believe the media have misused their constitutional protections for partisan purposes. But it is also good news for the nation if the survivors of the flood remember what a unique and precious thing we have in the First Amendment. If a 16-year-old from Kentucky gets it, maybe there’s hope for the editors of the Washington Post.

No, there is not, nor will there ever be. Not until the current crop of liars and deceivers is replaced wholesale by honest reporters with no partisan axe to grind or agenda to push there isn’t, and only a fool would think there is. It’s useless to cuddle any cozy notions of “saving” the First Amendment from them. They don’t want it saved. They oppose it along with the rest of the Constitution; its only relevance to them is when they can use it as a shield in their campaign to destroy it.

Rather than Pollyannishly blibbering on and on about “saving” things we long ago had taken from us, we ought to be destroying the Left root, branch, and bough—beginning with refusing to allow them to cower behind the protection of a Constitution they’ve shattered. And I do NOT mean talking about destroying them, either. No more cringing behind “principle” as a means of talking ourselves out of taking action; I mean rolling up our sleeves and DOING it. If we’re too effete and high-minded to fight back we can’t possibly win, and the First won’t be the only thing we shamefully fail to save.

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Double bubble trouble

YIKES! With (urk) pictures.

DESPERATE for a fuller bust Jacqueline Harvey spent her life savings on a boob job.

But the 23-year-old was left distraught after the “botched” op left her with malformed, “double bubble” boobs.

The graphic designer saved for five years, before splashing out £4,500 on the op – boosting her bust from a 34C to DD.

However, after waking up and looking in the mirror, Jacqueline immediately regretted her decision.

She realised her implants had caused a second bulge under her breast bone – creating what looks like four “bubble” boobs.

The average cost of breast augmentation in Australia is $13,000 [£7,000], so Jacqueline was thrilled to find a discounted price of $6,000 (£4,500).

But she now regrets choosing the knock-down rate as she will have to spend the same amount on corrective surgery.

She added: “It was a lot more affordable than what I had previously been quoted for breast augmentations, which range around $13,000.

There’s a reason for that. There usually is.

“But I regret my decision as I now need to spend this amount to correct the damage that was done in the first operation.”

Rule Numero Uno, kid: never, ever, EVER bargain-shop for tattoos, tools, shoes, surgery, helicopter pilots, or high explosives. It’ll end up costing more than if you just bite the bullet and drop the coin to get the good stuff right out of the gate. WAY more, and in more than just money, too.

I just don’t get the store-bought-titties thing, I never did, and I never will. For whatever it might be worth, I find synthetic fun-bags repellent—notwithstanding my having more than one or two female friends to whom I will never willingly disclose that opinion, in the interests of my own physical well-being. Not knocking anybody for their preference in knockers, mind, whatever it may be and however they may have arrived at it. To each his/her own, I say.

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Can’t stop the signal

Or the Federal Goobermint either, apparently.

In Shutdown Month: Federal Government Added 1,000 Jobs

Uhm. Wait, what?!?

Even though the federal government was in partial shutdown for most of January, it still managed to increase its employees by 1,000, according to data released today by the Bureau of Labor Statistics.

In December 2018, according to BLS, the federal government employed 2,799,000 workers. In January, it employed 2,800,000.

The BLS’s employment report said that with this net increase of 1,000 federal workers federal employment was “essentially unchanged” in January. It also noted that federal worker who were furloughed during the shutdown were counted as employed because they will be getting paid for the time that they did not work.

Which only goes to show that our zombie-like federal Leviathan staggers blindly on doing whatever it damned well pleases regardless of…well, of anything at all. At this point It has taken on a life of its own; its processes, systems, and functions are autonomic and grind independently on without reference to external influence or contraints. It will not, it cannot, be stopped or even slowed by any known peaceable means, evidently.

TINVOWOOT, folks.

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Rules Of The Road, addendum (a)

Learn to merge, people. It really ain’t all that difficult or scary, not if you do it like you’re supposed to, like the Interstates were designed to be used. HINT: the actual technical term for an on-ramp is the acceleration lane. There is a reason for this. It is NOT called that because you’re supposed to slow down to 15 mph and then try to merge with traffic doing 70 or better. Trust me on this. That is all.

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Mike’s Rules Of The Road Volume 3

Did one of these things years ago, and folks really seemed to like it a lot. So I did a short follow-up post some time later, which I believe was lost along with a bunch of other stuff when I switched from either Grey Matter to Moveable Type or MT to WordPress as a blogging platform. Now I figger it’s time for another. I got a lot of problems with you people out there on the road, and now you’re gonna hear about it.

Okay, first off, Charlotte has become absolutely unbearable to drive around in. Unfortunately, driving around is what I do for a living—all damned day and half the damned night, every damned day—and Charlotte’s where the money is. But it’s truly awful. The traffic now rivals the Long Island Expressway—not exaggerating AT ALL here, trust me—and rush hour runs basically from about three in the afternoon until around 7 in most places. On certain streets, such as Albemarle Road or Harris Blvd in the University City area, it never really lets up.

The streets themselves are in ridiculously bad condition, as bad as just about anywhere I’ve ever been, and I’ve been everywhere, man. Car-swallowing potholes and cracks, construction projects funneling major multilane thoroughfares down to one lane with the resultant sudden tire-smoking stops, mind-bending snarls and hazards, and haphazardly-marked detours make for some real thrills for all and sundry. After leaving NYC and not missing the infernal things one tiny bit, Harlotte also now has those awful steel plates popping up all over the place too, the ones that rear their ugly edges up well above pavement level and eat tires, shocks, and steering alignment for a light snack. Just recently I had to shell out a bunch of money I didn’t have to replace not just one but two—count em, two (2)—nearly new tires in which the steel belts had separated, a condition usually caused by smashing into a bad pothole or plate hard enough to jar the fillings in your teeth loose. Two of ’em. The same damned day.

With the population rising here at an almost unbelievable rate—imported from other parts of the country (the Northeast—ahem) harboring drivers who lack the faintest idea about what they’re doing but drive like Mario Andretti on crystal meth, are inconsiderate as hell and bereft of any sense of courtesy, have absolutely no clue about where they’re going, and insist on keeping their phones in front of their faces at 70 mph taking selfies to post on Fucking Facebook—the number of drivers out there randomly making sudden unsignaled turns or freeway exits from the far lane, wandering in and out of their lane into yours, and/or creeping along at a snail’s pace because they’re lost, panicked, and oblivious to the existence of other drivers have all proliferated horribly.

Next up, tailgating. I simply must ask: WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE, ANYWAY?!? You are riding RIGHT UP MY ASS, leaving yourself NO POSSIBILITY OF AVOIDING REAR-ENDING ME should I have to suddenly apply the brakes, and you are paying NO ATTENTION WHATSOEVER because you’re dicking around with your fucking phone. At 70 miles per hour. Did NOBODY explain the importance of maintaining adequate following distance to you in Driver’s Ed, assuming you ever even took it, or paid the slightest attention in class when you did? Every blasted week—nearly every blasted day, actually—I see rear-enders involving pileups of four, five, or six cars, the drivers standing around dully scratching their vacant heads and puzzling over how such an outlandish thing could possibly have occurred.

Figuring that out does NOT require rocket-scientist-level intelligence: the poor schlub at the head of the line is toodling happily along when he has to suddenly stomp his brakes for any of approximately eleventy-billion perfectly good reasons; the moron behind him futzing around with his cellphone and riding his ass can’t stop and rams him; the moron likewise behind HIM driving like an idiot does likewise; and so it goes, until we get to the only sensible person in the line who is able to avoid the accordion-action pileup in front of him because he realizes that there is NO text message or Facebook post important enough to anybody that it can’t wait the fifteen or twenty minutes it will take him to get safely home and out from behind the wheel. Where the crushed-bumper clowns on the side of the road making lame excuses to each other never should have been allowed in the first place.

What’s with the tailgating thing, anyway? That, combined with the jackasses who zip wildly in and out of rush-hour traffic trying to improve their position in the traffic stream by one or two notches, speeding up, slowing down, and generally annoying me no end, are incomprehensible to me. Where the hell do you think you’re GOING in all that traffic, anyway? There are large, heavy metal objects moving rapidly all around you, in front, behind, to each side—all of them gliding along at roughly equal speed, every one of whose operators is every damned bit as eager to get home from work as you are. Is exercising a bare modicum of patience, maturity, and consideration for other people during your daily commute really just flat beyond you? Did you ever notice that all those people you endangered by blowing recklessly past them will be catching up to sit beside you at the next stoplight—every single damned time? Is paring fifteen or twenty seconds off your drive home that particular day REALLY going to enhance your life so greatly that it validates your putting the well-being of every swinging dick on the road at risk, including your own?

All that blood-boiling idiocy is bad enough for sure. But of late the thing that’s really frosting my nuts is a no-fooling puzzler, something I truly can’t figure out after lengthy deliberation: high beam headlights. After years and years of only occasionally, even rarely, being blinded by some doot-brained nimrod coming at me down the other side of the road (bad enough) or coming up behind me (worse) with his damned brights on, of late this annoying, dangerous, and stupid shit is something I’m seeing many, many times a night, every single night, seven days a week. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON HERE? Yeah, of course now and then our attention slips and we leave the brights on on a dark country road, we’ve all done it—whereupon the guy you’re approaching on the other side flips his brights at you, you sheepishly go “Oh, dammit!” to yourself at your absent-minded lapse, and cut your dang brights off until he goes by. In fact, I can remember a time when, if it was a cop coming at you flipping his brights at you to get you to cut yours, and you failed to do so, you could pretty much count on getting stopped, maybe even a ticket depending on how peaceably the guy’s lunch is sitting with him that evening.

But no more, apparently. There is a whole damned passel of mouthbreathers out there these days who either A) have no idea how to turn their brights off and just drive around with them on all the time hoping no one will notice; B) encounter old guys like me, who don’t see so good at night no more anyway and are about to careen into the ditch, flipping their brights at em desperately trying to get the thoughtless sonsabitches to kill the damned blinders already until we can all pass safely by, don’t give a fragrant shit, and just say, “Ehh, fuck ’em” and leave them on; or C) don’t know what high beams are, have no idea they’re switched on, and are perplexed as to why oncoming drivers’ lights are going brighter and dimmer again and again, because nobody HAS functioning high beams in Pakistan or Somalia or whatever other blighted hellhole they arrived here from three weeks ago; or D) some abhorrent combination of any or all of the above.

This whole nuthouse circus going on, mind you, in an era when advanced illumination techonology has given us headlight bulbs that are literally orders of magnitude brighter than, say, the ones of fifteen or twenty years ago. I note without further comment that, when the witless and/or thoughtless culprit is overtaking me from behind and I can get a good look at them as they go by, the overwhelming majority of these miscreants has been either older black women or younger Middle-Eastern ones with headscarves on. No veils yet, thank God. But one of these days that’s gonna happen too, I bet, and I only wish I could say I’ll be surprised by it.

So there you have it, gang: the third and possibly final installment of Mike’s Rules Of The Road. Read ’em, learn ’em, live ’em. Always remember the old bumper sticker slogan: drive like hell, and you’ll get there. And dim your lights, for God’s sake.

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“What the hell is wrong with you?”

The word “chutzpah” is nowhere NEAR adequate.

Let me be direct about this: You people are a bunch of hysterical ninnies, and it is time for you to grow the hell up.

You know who you are.

The Covington fiasco has proved to be a clarifying moment. And here is what has been made clear: Much of the American media is no longer engaged in journalism. It is engaged in opposition research and in what is sometimes known among political operatives as “black p.r.”—the sinister twin of ordinary public relations. As Joy Behar, as profoundly dim and tedious a person as American public life has to offer, forthrightly confessed: The hysteria and outright dishonesty surrounding the Covington students had nothing to do with them. It has to do with narrowly partisan, selfish, deeply stupid, entirely unpatriotic, childish, foot-stamping, fingers-in-the-ears, weeping, cooties-loathing, teary-eyed, tremulous, quavering, pansified, gormless, deceitful, dishonorable, and cynical politics of the lowest kind — the politics of Us and Them.

We’ve all seen how this goes, 10,000 times. Some character does — or at least is said to have done — something in the range between unseemly and horrifying, and he has some political attachment, however vague. Cynical political operatives and the low-minded partisans who enjoy being treated like idiots engage in what in normal times would forthrightly be regarded as a smear: “That mad bomber had pro-Trump posts on his Facebook page, ergo President Trump bears some kind of responsibility for this.”

Here are some of the idiots and idiotic institutions who engaged in that recently in the matter of Cesar Sayoc. Chris Truax in USA Today: “Trump bears moral responsibility for pipe bombs. Denying it just makes things worse.” Jonathan Chait, New York: “Bomber Cesar Sayoc is a By-product of Trump’s Party.” Even Rick Wilson debased himself, writing in The Daily Beast: “Of Course Donald Trump Inspired Cesar Sayoc’s Alleged Terrorism.” That’s a particularly asinine headline: For Trump’s culpability, it’s “of course,” while Sayoc’s crimes are “alleged.” That isn’t the kind of stupidity that happens by accident. These claims are pure intellectual dishonesty. They are smears, and there is no good-faith case to be made for them. All of these writers should be ashamed.

And the fact that a couple of children in MAGA hats engaged in boorish behavior — which isn’t even a fact, as it turns out, but a lie constructed and wholesaled with malice aforethought — wouldn’t have told us one damn thing about Donald J. Trump, his administration, or his political supporters at large. The fact that we had a momentary national moral crisis over the (as is turns out, fictitious) actions of a couple of nobody teenagers is all the evidence anybody needs of the fundamentally hysterical and unserious times in which we live. In a sane world, nobody cares about whether a 16-year-old boy somewhere…smirked.

Everybody who has pretended like that smirk tells us something serious about the state of the world is a liar and a fraud.

Well, maybe. Know who else is “a liar and a fraud,” though? Know what other “idiotic institution” jumped in with both feet on the Covington Kids clusterfuck? That had the monumental gall to enthusiastically revile the supposed atrocity of “attacking” the “recon ranger” Vietnam-vet (dis)honest injun in no uncertain terms—then, when the wheels came off, issue one of those non-apology apologies—not for playing along with yet another Lefty lie and denouncing innocent youths for something they didn’t do, but for nothing more egregious than doing so in language that was just a wee mite too “strong”? Well, here’s a clue for ya:

The Covington Students Might as Well Have Just Spit on the Cross

That’s the headline of a piece—one of several others, actually—from…guess where? In case you hadn’t figured it out already, it’s from the wholly execrable NRO. The first excerpt above is none other than Kevin Williamson waxing self-righteously indignant over the way both Cuckmedia and shitlib outlets sought to destroy the lives of young men who, I repeat, had done ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WRONG—who had, contrary to Teh Narrative™, been victimized themselves, and who are now dealing with death threats and harrassment and will be for the rest of their lives. The Julie Kelly piece I ran the other day enumerates NRO’s brass-balled villainy:

Two NRO articles addressed the media’s malfeasance in the matter. In particular, “Nathan Phillips Lied, The Media Bought It,” wrote Kyle Smith.

But the fact that editors for National Review also bought into the various lies escaped mention. This also included senior editor Jay Nordlinger, who deleted a January 19 tweet that read, “the images of those red-hat kids surrounding and mocking that old Indian are unbearable. Absolutely unbearable. An American disgrace.” Jonah Goldberg hand-waved away Frankovich’s vicious post as just “different people reaching different conclusions or having different opinions.”

So in other words, Williamson is now expressing OUTRAGE! over the very thing NRO is guilty of themselves. A fact which is ‘fessed up to precisely nowhere in his article. Not once.

Curiously, I had to go to one of those internet archive sites to dig the Frankovich headline up, since the original smear-job was quickly deleted once the truth came out and Williamson’s fellow NRO cucks made a rapid about-face into full ass-covering mode. My first link up above is to Insty’s excerpt of the Williamson tommyrot; I haven’t bothered with NRO myself since they went totally NeverTrumpTard nuts, and I ain’t linking ’em now. He damned sure did get at least one thing right, though:

The Covington fiasco has proved to be a clarifying moment.

It damned sure has; after this, it’s quite clear that anybody who fails to lump the NeverTrumpTard/Decepticon cucks right in with their fellow Lefty peas-in-a-pod is a damned fool. Frauds, propagandists, and dishonest smear merchants, the lot of them. Honestly though, Williamson gets more than just the one thing right; most of the piece is fairly well on the money, more or less. But the fact that he blithely skates right past NRO’s own malfeasance and guilt renders the whole thing null and void. The Atlantic should have kept him on; this conveniently dishonest piece of crap shows that he would have fit right in there.

A proper apology update! How it’s done, what it looks like.

I thought (knew!) they were punks and said so publicly. I was as wrong as I could be about that, and I am deeply sorry. Sorry to anyone who saw that on my Facebook page. Sorry to anyone it swayed to think badly about the boys. Sorry to the boys themselves, their school, and their parents.

Now, let me be clear. My Facebook audience is minuscule, so the number of folks who saw my comment was insignificant. I don’t apologize or excuse myself for how few I passed the false story to. I apologize for joining the horde, period.

I will be writing a personal letter of apology to the boys, not to further flagellate myself, but to offer something to counter the mega-tons of vitriol that came crashing down upon them. They should go on with the rest of their young lives knowing that many regret contributing to their public impugning.

They need to know that the world is indeed fairer than this, and to have faith in people doing the right thing when the whole story is gathered.

Well said, although I’d say they’ve learned exactly what they ought to about just how “fair” this world really is; however bleak the lesson, it’s something they have to face up to, especially as the country continues its Leftward drift and decay. Unfortunately, after his handsome apology the author stumbles just a bit:

Second, the MAGA hats played a role. Even though I support many of President Trump’s policies and want to see him succeed at what he told voters he would do, I did react negatively to the kids wearing those hats.

I assumed that youth wearing such hats to the March for Life two years after the election were interested in getting in peoples’ faces. I made that assumption for no good reason in particular. What in me would assume nefarious ends for this reason, just like those suffering from congenital Trump Derangement Syndrome do? I’m not sure.

Plenty of people on our side have complained similarly about the supposed “provocation” of…wearing a political hat at a political rally? WTF is up with that? And have we really been dragged so very far to the Left that expressing a wish to see America made great again is offensive and unacceptable—a radical idea not fit for exposure to public view?

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No sacrifice too great!

Hard Easy pass.

I had a great dinner at a local Red Lobster the other night. The crab cakes were excellent, the staff and service friendly and terrific.

But alas that was my last meal at the Red Lobster.

The Red Lobster, which I thought was in the business of selling seafood dinners and lunches, is in another business altogether: leftwing politics.

The company, owned by an outfit in San Francisco called Golden Gate Capital, is run by a slew of Hillary Clinton supporters who have decided to follow a prompting from an ex-Clinton staffer and make censorship their main product, joining the anti-free press jihad that has made it their business to silence conservatives in the media. The latest example is the targeting of Fox’s Tucker Carlson, with the Red Lobster officiously and piously announcing the following:

Red Lobster’s advertising buying guidelines reflect our core values and commitment to supporting programming that represents the highest standards of good taste, fair practice and objectivity.

Unmentioned in the announcement from Red Lobster was this, per a report in the Washington Times:

Activists like ThinkProgress founder Judd Legum renewed the boycott, specifically calling on Red Lobster to pull its ads.

Ahhh, but of course. Once again the extreme far-Left is on yet another anti-free press and free speech jihad, this time bullying Red Lobster.

Then again, maybe it isn’t bullying after all. In plunging into politics by joining the side of the leftwing thugs, a closer look at those running Red Lobster reveals that there is, in fact, a built in leftward bias at the very top of the company that owns Red Lobster — Golden Gate Capital.

Giving up Red Lobster will be the easiest protest-slash-boycott “divestment” I ever made: I can’t stand the place, their food is terrible. I used to eat there regularly years and years ago, when I was a kid and my palate was a lot less, umm, refined. Maybe they’ve improved since then; I don’t know and don’t care. But as far as I’m concerned, they had nowhere to go but up. And wherever they’re going, they’ll be going without me…which I’m sure suits the both of us just fine, thqnks.

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Uniparty follies

The Deep State wins again.

Since Watergate, the Washington wisdom has always held that it’s not the crime, it’s the coverup that sinks a politician. But that’s only the case when the coverup fails.

But what if the coverup succeeds?

It’s horribly simple. The crimes are never uncovered and the perpetrators are never brought to justice no matter how serious their crimes may be. That is precisely what has happened because of the FBI and Justice Department’s coverup of their abuses of power and illegal actions during the 2016 election.

In this case, the FBI and the Justice Department have succeeded in the most significant coverup in American political history. The abuses of power and crimes they have succeeded in covering up are not only against the law: they are crimes against our system of law and government. They were perpetrated by employees of the government, under color of law, with the intention of affecting the outcome of an election.

For almost two years an investigation into the abuses of power — and probable crimes — committed by the FBI and Justice Department during the election has been conducted by House Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence chairman Devin Nunes (R-Cal).  Rep. Bob Goodlatte — chairman of the Judiciary Committee — and Trey Gowdy — chairman of the Oversight and government reform committee — tried to investigate other aspects of the FBI and DoJ actions.

These investigations have been stonewalled by the refusal of the FBI and Justice Department to produce the documents and provide access to witnesses that would, in all likelihood, prove that the major abuses of power and crimes had been committed.

The latest, and almost certainly last, effort to expose the facts of this scandal are contained in the Goodlatte-Gowdy letter. They are the last exposé because the Democrats have stopped these investigations cold. There will be no more hearings, no more testimony, and no further attempts to get the documents and testimony from the FBI and Justice Department that have been withheld.

We should remember Comey’s televised statement in which he said that “no reasonable prosecutor” would have brought a case against Clinton under the gross negligence law. He also said that the decision not to do so was unanimous among those involved.

That was one of Comey’s biggest lies. As the Goodlatte-Gowdy letter points out, FBI General Counsel James Baker told them that he did believe a case could be made and the recommendation not to charge Clinton wasn’t unanimous.

Goodlatte and Gowdy point out that Comey’s exoneration memo was drafted before all of the relevant witnesses had been interviewed. What they fail to mention is that the FBI and DoJ were handing out immunity from prosecution agreements to Clinton staffers as freely as if the agreements were Halloween candy.

Immunity agreements are given to key witnesses in criminal investigations for a price: their testimony against a target of the investigation which could not otherwise be obtained. There is no evidence whatsoever that any of the witnesses involved — Clinton staffers such as Cheryl Mills, her chief of staff at the State Department — gave any evidence that justified the immunity agreements.

The Goodlatte-Gowdy letter also points out that the Comey exoneration memo was changed before it was issued, but fails to specify the biggest change. Originally a part of the memo said that Clinton and her staff handled classified information in a “grossly negligent” manner. Comey changed that to read “extremely careless,” clearly to prevent the law from being applied. The only difference between the two phrases is that one appears in the statute and one doesn’t, but Comey nevertheless stated that there was no prosecutable case.

The only conclusion possible — which Goodlatte and Gowdy do not state — is that Comey’s FBI intentionally gave Clinton a pass when they should have recommended to the Justice Department that she be prosecuted.

The only avenue that was left to find the truth was for President Trump to have ordered the documents declassified and provided to Congress. But he never acted and now the investigations are closed. The Senate won’t reopen them, nor will acting AG Whitaker or IG Horowitz. The only hope resides in U.S. Attorney for Utah John Huber, an Obama appointee, who then-AG Jeff Sessions tasked to investigate FBI misconduct in the election. Those who place their hopes in Huber will be disappointed.

The stain on our system of justice and the 2016 election created by the abuses of power and probable crimes committed by FBI and DoJ officials during and after the 2016 presidential campaign will not be erased. Their coverup has succeeded.

That’s about the size of it, yeah. So at the end of the whole shitshow, what are we left with? Just this:

Laughing-asshats.jpg

Which ought to piss off every right-thinking red-blooded American no end. By the by, I mistakenly used the above link in last night’s “A government shutdown is a delight” post, which I have now fixed with the correct one in case anybody wants to go have a look at it. Sorry ’bout that, folks.

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Lennonism

At first glance I thought it was a typo. It’s nothing of the sort.

I have a friend who is a retired public school teacher. She is very likable and in some areas an independent thinker. One day in conversation she brought up the terrible poverty and near-anarchy that prevails just on the other side of America’s southern border. It quickly became clear that she believed America was at fault, that America’s prosperity was somehow the cause of Mexico’s problems. When I asked her what the solution might be, she replied without hesitation that we should get rid of that border, and not stop there but get rid of all borders. Then, she said, people everywhere could live in peace.

If I could capture for you precisely how she said this, you would hear as I did John Lennon’s “Imagine”forming her thoughts:

Imagine there’s no countries
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people living life in peace…

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man.

The simplest explanation of what happened to the modern progressive Baby Boomers is that they found for themselves a new national anthem, one they like much better than that old and out-dated one that asked them to be brave if they expected to be free.

In conversations with my progressive friends, I find they see America as the problem. They place their hopes in the world beyond America’s borders. When Kerry said America needed France’s approval to conduct foreign policy, his assertion made perfect sense to Lennonists. When Bill Maher said if half the country wants Trump as president then the United Nations needs to intervene, he spoke for American Lennonists everywhere.

You have to admit that American Lennonism has a certain logic. If America is the problem, then getting rid of America’s borders is an important and even an essential step toward a better world. But if America is not the problem, if America deserves to live, if there are still many Americans who want America to live, then not so much. And if getting rid of America turned out to be a mistake, it would be a mistake impossible to undo.

Oh, I think it’s safe to say those of us who didn’t know that already are now beginning to realize it. Personally, I like to imagine a world with no John Lennon, and his destructive Leftard influence on our world completely undone.

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It ain’t over until the fat transgender lesbian sings

And in the case of the Colorado cake-baker whose “victory” we were all celebrating not long ago…well, guess what? She ain’t sung yet. And never will, until he and his Badthink is crushed utterly.

Attorneys for a Colorado baker who refused to make a wedding cake for a gay couple on religious grounds – a stand partially upheld by the U.S. Supreme Court – argued in federal court Tuesday that the state is punishing him again over his refusal to bake a cake celebrating a gender transition.

Lawyers for Jack Phillips, owner of Masterpiece Cakeshop in suburban Denver, are suing to try to stop the state from taking action against him over the new discrimination allegation. They say the state is treating Phillips with hostility because of his Christian faith and pressing a complaint that they call an “obvious setup.”

“At this point, he’s just a guy who is trying to get back to life. The problem is the state of Colorado won’t let him,” Jim Campbell, an attorney for the Alliance Defending Freedom, said after the hearing. The conservative Christian nonprofit law firm is representing Phillips.

State officials argued for the case to be dismissed, but the judge said he was inclined to let the case move forward and would issue a written ruling later.

Oh, of COURSE he was. Cake Man will be hounded for the rest of his life. He will never again know a moment’s peace, nor be allowed to dig himself out of poverty and destitution. And after all that, when he’s dead and buried the Democrat Socialist Indeterminate-Gender freaks will probably dig him up to spit on his mouldering corpse, rebury him, and then dig him up over and over and over again, for all eternity. Steyn, umm, fleshes the story out:

His tormentor is Autumn Scarpina, a “trans attorney” (for our Commonwealth readers, that’s not a solicitor who’s transitioning into a barrister). According to Newsweek, Ms Scarpina could be the same dissatisfied customer who emailed Mr Phillips with very specific instructions for a Church of Satan cake:

“I’m thinking a three-tiered white cake. Cheesecake frosting,” the customer wrote in the June 4 email, according to Phillips’ lawsuit filed in Denver’s federal court on Tuesday. “And the topper should be a large figure of Satan, licking a 9″ black Dildo. I would like the dildo to be an actual working model, that can be turned on before we unveil the cake.”

Maybe someone could sue United for declining to provide any Satanic meal options or IHOP for refusing to serve a short stack of blueberry dildos.

Or maybe the Colorado “Civil Rights” Commission could simply rule that henceforth no cakes can be sold in America except nine-inch black dildos with a thin slathering of frosting. Or maybe we can all sue the sex-aids shop for refusing to include any cake with its dildos. (By the way, isn’t a mere nine-inch black dildo kinda racist?)

Not if it’s a surgically-mutilated half-man, half-woman liberal homunculus shoving the thing up its lily-white ass with delight, it ain’t. Then anything goes, and everything’s just peachy. Just be wary of the “icing” on that cake, and don’t even THINK of asking to lick the beaters or the bowl.

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Lost and floundering

Without a single original idea left to them.

We’ve seen this movie before. In fact, we’ve seen all ten of them in some form.

The top-ten, box-office blockbusters of 2018 consist entirely of remakes, sequels, and films based on old comic book characters. Black Panther, Avengers: Infinity War, Incredibles 2, Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom, Deadpool 2, Dr. Seuss’ The Grinch, Mission Impossible—Fallout, Antman and the Wasp, Solo: A Star Wars Story, and Venom constitute the top ten box office hits of 2018.

Waitwaitwaitwait just a damn minute; they remade that godawful Jim Carry Grinch remake? REALLY?

For God’s sake, WHY?!?

Jeez. A remake of a remake, the first one itself no better than a schoolyard taunt—a piffling, tawdry desecration of a bona-fide classic, with less true art involved than one finds in your average shoehorn. FAR less. Then, having artistically if maybe not commercially (who knows, who cares) shit the bed with that first travesty, the takeaway lesson for them was…hey, let’s do it AGAIN! The mind boggles.

But what the hell. Not giving a drizzling blood-streaked shit about comic book franchise films and endless Too Fast Too Furious spinoffs, it’s been a very long time indeed since Hollywood made anything I’d even momentarily consider bothering to see. Then again, I ain’t their target audience anymore, so I’m sure they figure to hell with me. To which I can only say: right back atcha, Slick.

I DO like the idea of creative geniuses like Elia Kazan, Billy Wilder, Hitchcock, John Huston, Howard Hawks, and even more contemporary colossi of the industry like Spielberg, Coppola, Scorcese, and others being horrified and disgusted at the complete dearth of creativity and originality in today’s Hollywood. As in so many other areas of American life these days, the spectacle of midgets clambering up onto the shoulders of giants and crowing like the scrawny, impotent little roosters they are can be sort of amusing in some small way. Certainly more so than the movies they’re incompetently aping, anyway.

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Roberts redux

So it’s looking like maybe Kavanaugh wasn’t worth battling for, except maybe as a way of giving a last fuck-you finger to the Left before Black Tuesday.

U.S. Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas criticized his fellow justices Monday for refusing to do their job when they rejected a case about state efforts to defund the abortion giant Planned Parenthood.

Thomas said the court made a “mess” of the matter, and blamed the other justices for not wanting to touch a case involving the abortion giant Planned Parenthood.

“What explains the court’s refusal to do its job here? I suspect it has something to do with the fact that some respondents in these cases are named ‘Planned Parenthood,’” Thomas wrote in his dissenting opinion.

Justices Samuel Alito and Neil Gorsuch joined Thomas, but Chief Justice John Roberts and Justice Brett Kavanaugh joined the four liberal justices in refusing to hear the case.

Thomas is of course our greatest, wisest Justice, and we can all be thankful for his presence on the Court. But does it get even worse with Kavanaugh? Why yes; yes, it does.

Judge Brett Kavanaugh, who was appointed to the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia by President George W. Bush, accepted the assumption in a dissenting opinion he filed last October in the case of Garza v. Hargan that a teenage illegal alien caught at the border and put in detention has a right to an abortion in the United States.

At the same time, Kavanaugh conceded that “this case presents a new situation not yet directly confronted by the Supreme Court.”

Kavanaugh argued that in saying the illegal alien teen had a right to abortion in the United States he was accepting the government’s assumption regarding existing Supreme Court precedents.

Kavanaugh did say that the majority of the appeals court was mistaken in saying the illegal alien had “a right to immediate abortion on demand.” He argued the government could delay the abortion while seeking to find the illegal alien a sponsor.

Kavanaugh wrote that “under Supreme Court precedent in analogous contexts, it is not an undue burden for the U.S. Government to transfer an unlawful immigrant minor to an immigration sponsor before she has an abortion, so long as the transfer is expeditious.”

Codswallop. An illegal alien has NO rights in this country—NONE—no matter how badly any black-robed contortionist must fold, spindle, and/or mutilate the law trying to to create one.

Guess we can look for plenty of Roberts-like gyrations from Kavanaugh in the future, more’s the pity. And since the Democrat Socialists paid no price at all on election day for their abhorrent abuse of the advise-and-consent function during his confirmation hearings, the fight to secure his place on the Court looks like worse than a waste of time.

Overall, Trump has done very well with his judicial appointments; it’s one of his signal achievements in office, and given current conditions will end up being his primary legacy. But nobody can hit a home run every time, I guess.

Update! Bill ain’t happy either:

We all know that those appointed by Democrat Presidents will simply vote in mindless lockstep against any outcome that advances conservative principles in any way.  But what we should also realize is that Republican appointees will always provide support in sufficient numbers to the leftist wing of the court to ensure that anything tightly balanced will fall to the left side of the bench.

Hence we got Kennedy, who bludgeoned Scalia into adding the infamous “Scalia Dicta” to the Heller decision, thus creating holes through which lower courts are still driving gigantic legal trucks – and SCOTUS itself refuses to clarify what Heller and McDonald mean and thus close those holes.

Then we have the intriguing spectacle of another GOP appointee, (a Bush appointee, natch) in John Roberts actually making up excuses even the Obama government denied in order to maintain Obamacare.

And now we have another GOP (Trump) appointee who, right out of the box, sides with Roberts in preventing the court from hearing another case that, if decided in a conservative direction, might inconvenience the massive Democrat contribution and abortion mill, Planned Parenthood.

It doesn’t matter how many little bullshit “victories” we get over obscure regulatory issues, history teaches us that the monolithic leftist wall on the court, always coupled with a sufficiency of “conservative” judges, will make damned sure that we lose on the defining issues that direct the course of our nation.

The government ratchet only turns one way: Left.

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War on Christmas

Yes, Virginia, it’s real.

We hear the stories every year: the ACLU suing small towns over Nativity displays, “holiday tree” lightings, colleges banning religious icons, storefronts wishing us an empty “Happy Holidays,” Lena Dunham being Lena Dunham.

Yet, the moment our ears catch wind of the Left’s all-too-apparent “War on Christmas,” the mainstream media and their “useful idiots” in late-night comedy are already roasting us on an open fire before any of us can say “partridge in a pear tree.” Instead of turtle doves and golden rings, we get gaslights and courtroom subpoenas.

Clutch not your candy canes, though. If the Puritans couldn’t do it, if the French Revolutionaries couldn’t do it, if the Nazis couldn’t do it, if the Soviets couldn’t do it, if CBS couldn’t do it, then the party of scrooges will certainly never rid the world of the joy that is “Christmas.” So long as we have Christ, Christmas will always follow. In the meantime, however, let’s all pull up a chair, sip on some hot cocoa, roast up some chestnuts, and ring in the season with a few laughs over the Left’s sorry attempts to transform Christmas into a snowflake’s wonderland.

One of the listed epic fails occurred right here in Harlotte, NC, for whatever it’s worth. But it ain’t my favorite one, if “favorite” is the right word for such a stinking mound of despicable shitlib garbage. This one is:



Further explanation:

According to the Left, Santa can neither be fat nor be a white male, but he can be in a gay relationship with a black husband. Released in October by Harper’s Design, the book “Santa’s Husband” tells the incredible story of “a black Santa Claus and his white husband who both live in the North Pole.”

Written by Daniel Kibblesmith of the “Late Show with Stephen Colbert,” the book was intended to be a parody to mock conservatives.

Nothing they won’t ruin, nothing they won’t keep their filthy mitts off of, nothing they won’t attempt to warp, pervert, and degrade. Nothing they’ll leave untouched and unsullied, nothing they won’t politicize and smear with shit. Abolutely nothing. So with that in mind, I just have to ask: is it time to start shooting them yet?

If not, why not?

(Via Ed)

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Oh Jeez, this TOO?

Scolds, prigs, and killjoys.

You may have noticed that America is going insane with finger-wagging, tut-tutting, outrage-ready Mrs. Grundy censoriousness. The legendary Mrs. Grundy was the representative of conservative social control and excessively strict mores.

Today’s Mrs. Grundys — let’s call them Mx. Grundys to be up to the moment — are progressive bullies intent on shutting everyone the hell up lest anyone fail to conform to their narrow sense of what is and is not acceptable. The humorless scolds have decided they are in charge, and for complicated reasons the rest of the culture is going along.

…Meanwhile, the Huffington Post noted that the 1964 TV show “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” was “seriously problematic” because many viewers said they were disturbed by its themes of sexism and bullying.

Then there’s the song “Baby It’s Cold Outside.” In 1944, the songwriter Frank Loesser began performing a skit in song form at the parties he attended in Hollywood with his then-wife, Lynn. He was “the wolf,” she the “mouse,” and they were together at his home when she decided to take her leave.

She shouldn’t go, the wolf says. But her mother will start to worry, she says. With each reason for leaving she offers, he points out that she’ll freeze out there, her hands are like ice and the fireplace is roaring with heat.

This isn’t date rape. It’s mutual foreplay; indeed, it’s just about the most harmonious portrayal of foreplay in the annals of Western culture. They are enjoying their own wit, and we are enjoying their wit.

But here’s the problem: Wit often eludes the literal. It did in 1949 when an Egyptian visitor to the United States named Syad Qutb heard “Baby It’s Cold Outside” at a church dance in Greeley, Colo. As it played, Qutb later wrote, “The room convulsed with the feverish music from the gramophone. Dancing naked legs filled the hall, arms draped around the waists, chests met chests, lips met lips.”

He left America and became a member of the Muslim Brotherhood and is considered the intellectual father of the Islamic extremism that found its darkest flowing in the 9/11 attacks.

Congratulations, Mx. Grundy. You’ve given Sayid Qutb what he wanted. Radio stations in Denver, San Francisco and Cleveland all announced they were banning “Baby It’s Cold Outside” from their airwaves.

There is absolutely no stone the joyless, juiceless Left will leave unturned in their neverending crusade to render all the rest of us—all of life itself—every bit as pinch-faced, sour, and miserable as they are. Funny how all that sexual liberation back in the hippie-dippie 60s has ushered us to an era in which sex itself is, like poor old Rudolph, “seriously problematic.” Steyn says:

As you’ll know if you’re a regular round these parts, “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” started life as a party piece for Frank Loesser and his missus that they just did at various soirées around town until they were begged to make it publicly available. So you can see why its fate would be personal to Mr and Mrs Loesser’s daughter Susan in a way that her dad’s more straightforwardly commercial enterprises might not be. In her remarks in The Daily Mail, she blames its apparent controversy on Bill Cosby, and says, “It was written in 1944. It was a different time.”

Well, almost the entirety of human creativity comes from “a different time”. Our time – aside from its notable dearth of great music, great art, great drama, great holiday-season novelty duets – is also the first (or at least the first since Pol Pot) to be set upon destroying everything that dates from a “different time”.

For two-thirds of a century, the song was understood as a distillation of a standard dating ritual: The boy wants her to stay, and the girl wants to stay. But she’s a nice girl so she has to be talked into it, so Rod and Willie and Cee Loo et al give it their best shot.

Now radio stations are banning it not because something has changed since 1944, but because something has changed in the last twenty minutes.

We are in a paradoxical land with a hyper-sexualized yet ideologically puritanical culture. In such a world, the wit and playfulness of Frank Loesser are perforce entirely alien.

Far as I’m concerned, it’s the shrieking soldiers of the Army Of The Aggrieved who are alien; their grim, humorless world ain’t any place I want to live in, or even visit. Hell, I’d be reluctant to so much as fly by it in a starship, unless it was for the purpose of lobbing nukes on the awful place from orbit.

It’s not that the whining twerps are capable of mining offense out of even the most innocuous or trivial thing that frosts my nuts. They’re welcome to be offended over nothing all they like; no skin off my nose, I don’t give a shit either way. No, it’s their implacable demand that we all must devolve to their own pitiful level of shameful, puling weakness—that even their pettiest neurosis must become the standard sturdier, more mentally-balanced people have to live by that rankles. They cannot leave any space at all for normal people to go their own way unmolested.

And they’re getting away with it, too.

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Lesson definitely, definitely learned

Ed Driscoll gets it way wrong.

THEY HAVE LEARNED NOTHING AND FORGOTTEN NOTHING. J. Christian Adams on Kavanaugh 2.0: Smears Against Court Nominee Tom Farr.

After Black Tuesday showed the Democrat-Socialist scum beyond a trace of doubt that they had suffered no consequences whatsoever for their despicable Kavanaugh circus, they learned they can get away scot-free with the abominable debasement of the Senate’s “advise and consent” role. If you don’t think so, just watch what happens when collapsing Jurassic Justice Ruth Bader Brontosaur is carted off to the glue factory. They certainly won’t forget it though, so I guess he got that part right anyway.

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Can’t fill a phone booth

Looks like the Clintons have finally passed their sell-by date, and are beginning to stink up the place.

Bill and Hillary Clinton launched their 13-city paid speaking tour in a Canadian hockey arena Tuesday evening, where there were banks of empty seats and the power couple accused President Trump of joining a Saudi ‘cover-up.’

The Clintons riffed on issues ranging form the U.S. elections to the Iran deal, the killing of Osama bin Laden, and the murder of Saudi dissident Khashoggi, and got a warm reception from the crowd as they jabbed at the Trump administration from north of the border.

The Clintons launched their paid 13-city speaking tour in Toronto in an ice hockey arena Tuesday night.

Organizers blocked off the upper deck of seats. Officials said the Clintons sold about 3,300 seats in a venue that can hold about 19,000 for a big hockey game when the Maple Leafs play.

There were still plenty of tickets available 30 minutes before showtime, and a secondary market appeared to be dropping.

The cheapest ticket available on Stubhub was going for $6.55 Canadian, or less than $5.

Dying Hillary had herself another extended debilitating “coughing fit,” whereupon her “husband” offered her bottled water doubtless “repurposed,” shall we say, with Tangueray…or Everclear. After hooking her up to the electrodes backstage for a while, the corpse was reanimated enough to wheel her out and prop her back up next to her “husband,” and the shitshow went on for another excruciating thirty minutes.

Man, the things some people will throw good money away on nowadays. But it still ain’t enough to make her president, and it never will be.

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Sayonara, suckers

Just another lie from (NotMy)pResident Pinocchio.

Six years ago, President Barack Obama promised to buy a Chevy Volt after his presidency.

“I got to get inside a brand-new Chevy Volt fresh off the line,” Obama announced to a cheering crowd of United Auto Workers activists. “Even though Secret Service wouldn’t let me drive it. But I liked sitting in it. It was nice. I’ll bet it drives real good. And five years from now when I’m not president anymore, I’ll buy one and drive it myself.”

Now it looks like Obama will not get his chance to make good on the promise. General Motors announced Monday that it would cease production of the hybrid electric plug-in Volt and its gas-powered sister car the Cruze.

Meh, it wasn’t as if he ever intended to anyway. Barrack Obailout was just saying whatever he thought he had to to get himself through the next five minutes, then it was on to the next lie.

The Volt and the Cruze were two of the signature achievements of the partnership between the Obama administration and General Motors following the auto-industry bailout.

And they worked out just like all the rest of Barky’s “achievements” did, looks like.

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Sick, just sick

Okay, I just…I can’t even.

Next Thursday, I will get a vagina. The procedure will last around six hours, and I will be in recovery for at least three months. Until the day I die, my body will regard the vagina as a wound; as a result, it will require regular, painful attention to maintain. This is what I want, but there is no guarantee it will make me happier. In fact, I don’t expect it to. That shouldn’t disqualify me from getting it.

Oh. Well. Umm. Okay.

I like to say that being trans is the second-worst thing that ever happened to me. (The worst was being born a boy.) Dysphoria is notoriously difficult to describe to those who haven’t experienced it, like a flavor. Its official definition — the distress some transgender people feel at the incongruence between the gender they express and the gender they’ve been socially assigned — does little justice to the feeling.

Sorry, dearie, it isn’t “socially” assigned. It’s biologically assigned.

Many conservatives call this crazy.

And all other sane people, too. Because, y’know, IT IS.

A popular right-wing narrative holds that gender dysphoria is a clinical delusion;

Because, y’know, IT IS.

hence, feeding that delusion with hormones and surgeries constitutes a violation of medical ethics.

Because, y’know, IT IS.

Just ask the Heritage Foundation fellow Ryan T. Anderson, whose book “When Harry Became Sally” draws heavily on the work of Dr. Paul McHugh, the psychiatrist who shut down the gender identity clinic at Johns Hopkins in 1979 on the grounds that trans-affirmative care meant “cooperating with a mental illness.” Mr. Anderson writes, “We must avoid adding to the pain experienced by people with gender dysphoria, while we present them with alternatives to transitioning.”

In this view, it is not only fair to refuse trans people the care they seek; it is also kind. A therapist with a suicidal client does not draw the bath and supply the razor. Take it from my father, a pediatrician, who once remarked to me that he would no sooner prescribe puberty blockers to a gender dysphoric child than he would give a distemper shot to someone who believed she was a dog.

Smart, sensible man, your dad. I’m sure you hate his guts for it.

Buried under all of this, like a sober tuber,

A “sober tuber”? What the hell is…oh, never mind. We’ll just shine that one on.

lies an assumption so sensible you’ll think me silly for digging it up. It’s this: People transition because they think it will make them feel better. The thing is, this is wrong.

I feel demonstrably worse since I started on hormones. One reason is that, absent the levies of the closet, years of repressed longing for the girlhood I never had have flooded my consciousness. I am a marshland of regret. Another reason is that I take estrogen — effectively, delayed-release sadness, a little aquamarine pill that more or less guarantees a good weep within six to eight hours.

Like many of my trans friends, I’ve watched my dysphoria balloon since I began transition. I now feel very strongly about the length of my index fingers — enough that I will sometimes shyly unthread my hand from my girlfriend’s as we walk down the street. When she tells me I’m beautiful, I resent it. I’ve been outside. I know what beautiful looks like. Don’t patronize me.

Wait a minute, what—your GIRLFRIEND?!? What the…you’re a MALE harboring delusions of being a FEMALE, but you are nonetheless sexually and romantically attracted to women?

I am now thinking that “mentally ill” is way, WAY inadequate to describe the utter chaos going on in this man’s head. There’s just no sorting out such an incredibly advanced level of cray-cray. The mental gears aren’t meshing but clashing, sending chunks of gear-teeth wending their way through the downstream works. Even the most half-assed backyard mechanic knows the kind of catastrophic, total breakdown that always results from that sort of thing.

I was not suicidal before hormones. Now I often am.

Y’know, you’re really not doing a hell of a lot in the way of demonstrating that you aren’t completely bug-fuck nuts here.

As long as transgender medicine retains the alleviation of pain as its benchmark of success, it will reserve for itself, with a dictator’s benevolence, the right to withhold care from those who want it. Transgender people have been forced, for decades, to rely for care on a medical establishment that regards them with both suspicion and condescension. And yet as things stand today, there is still only one way to obtain hormones and surgery: to pretend that these treatments will make the pain go away.

Making the pain go away—providing a cure or at least a palliative to the disease or injury in question—is sort of the whole point of medical treatment. Too, voluntary surgical mutilation for the purpose of pandering to mental illness isn’t exactly what most of us would consider “care,” I’m afraid.

The medical maxim “First, do no harm” assumes that health care providers possess both the means and the authority to decide what counts as harm.

That isn’t a mere “maxim,”I’m afraid; it’s a solemn and serious oath—the ne plus ultra, the bedrock principle of the medical profession entire. Which, in your selfish arrogance, you seem to think you have the right to force doctors to blatantly violate to suit your own folly. Ain’t asking much, are ya, cupcake?

Let me be clear: I believe that surgeries of all kinds can and do make an enormous difference in the lives of trans people.

But I also believe that surgery’s only prerequisite should be a simple demonstration of want.

Then you’re full of shit as a Christmas turkey, bub. It might seem a reasonable proposition to an all-in, balls-to-the-wall narcissist like yourself, sure. But it’s horseshit on stilts, and nothing more.

Beyond this, no amount of pain, anticipated or continuing, justifies its withholding.

Uh huh. Again: you think that just because you “want” something—something aberrant, something that is its own proof of mental illness—a doctor should be forced to violate his own professional oath to give it to you…while knowing he is doing tremendous damage, possibly even contributing to your death by your own hand, as you yourself freely admit. In other words, a doctor—any doctor, ALL doctors—should be forced to cause misery and destruction in violation of his/their professional and personal ethics…simply because you “want” something—something you can never, ever have anything closer to than a gossamer illusion, a deceit. Chopping off the penis you were born and slashing a gash in its place will never make you or any other mentally disturbed man a woman. Rod Dreher explains:

Do you see what’s happening here? Chu says that the treatments doctors have given him are making him sicker, even making him desire suicide. But if he wants to suffer and to die, then he should have that right. Satisfying desire is the only thing that matters.
 
This poor man with asparagus-colored hair is going to submit to mutilation next week, and will have to spend the rest of his life inserting an object into the wound surgeons will have made in his pubic area, to prevent his body from healing itself. This man — “like many of my trans friends” — expects this medical procedure to make him no happier, and in fact may make him feel more miserable, even suicidal.

But he wants it. People like him want all of society to upend its laws, its customs, and its norms to facilitate that desire, and to act like there’s nothing wrong with it. And society is giving them what they want, and punishing those who deny that this is paradise.

Freeing the autonomous will from sex and gender norms is the summum bonum of contemporary American progressivism. The insatiably miserable Andrea Long Chu is its incarnation.

We have gone beyond gay people to allow transgender people — fewer than one percent of the population — to change America forever.

Progressives! They make a desert and call it peace. They carve a gash and call it a vagina. They make us all insane, and call the sane crazy.

None of which is coincidence, happenstance, or accidental.

What about the Hippocratic Oath? Here you have someone declaring on the pages of The New York Times that the surgery he is about to have will not make him happier, and in fact may drive him to suicide. But he doesn’t care. He wants that he wants. In a just order, those surgeons would be charged with a crime if they go through with this. Desire is the only criterion of health, is that where we are now? What if someone desires to have their legs amputated? Or to commit suicide? Where are the limits?

There are none, of course. Nothing—no matter how patently foolish, fantastical, outrageous, or wantonly destructive—will ever be enough for them. Every concession made to their successive head-spinning manias does nothing but provide them a jumping-off point for the next outrage against common sense, decency, and sanity. Any of us who haven’t learned that by now is either a damned fool or a covert collaborator.

Now back to the psycho for a gruesome denouement.

Nothing, not even surgery, will grant me the mute simplicity of having always been a woman.

Nothing, not even surgery, will grant you the mute simplicity of ever being one at all. It’s that whole pesky Y-chromosome thing, don’tchaknow. So, at this late stage of the game, I just have to ask: what the fuck is the point of all this grief, horror, and angst, then?

I will live with this, or I won’t. That’s fine. The negative passions — grief, self-loathing, shame, regret — are as much a human right as universal health care, or food.

WELL. Didn’t see the stupid liberal shibboleths coming, I didn’t; I’m sure you all can imagine my surprise. Sorry, guy, but four of those things are NOT like the others, and nary a one of them is a “right.”

Which leads me to ask why it is that ALL of these psychopaths and lunatics are devout Leftists, anyway? Never mind, don’t bother responding to that one. It was rhetorical anyway, and is a question that answers itself.

There are no good outcomes in transition. There are only people, begging to be taken seriously.

Someone so horribly twisted, so indisputably dysfunctional and diseased as to beggar belief, now begs to be “taken seriously”? REALLY? Taken seriously by whom? For what reason? On what grounds? To what worthwhile end?

Look, I’ll say it again: I personally believe that these misbegotten human oddities are in the main more to be pitied than censured for their affliction. They can have all the body parts they want gratuitously chopped off for all me, long as I don’t have to be involved in any way whatsoever with it—to include paying for it, either directly or indirectly (speaking of which, ummm, ooopsie).

But when the Left stridently insists that we all must laud bizarre, delusional aberrations as “heroes” and celebrate their “courage”—especially after having so viciously excoriated normal, healthy, well-adjusted, heterosexual Americans for so long—and that our entire society must be radically altered in deference to dementia…well, that’s stretching tolerance rather farther than its native elasticity will support.

Doesn’t mean the miserable freaks ought to be ostracized; doesn’t mean they ought to be shunned, doesn’t mean they ought to be harmed in any way.

It DOES mean they ought to stop waving their apparently unsatisfactory, anguish-inducing genitalia in our faces, stop allowing the Left to use them as political tools in its never-ending campaign of nihilistic destruction against pretty much everydamnedthing, and just tootle on off and leave us the fuck alone…lest it all wind up snapping back on the whole sordid circus eventually, providing them a demonstration of what oppression and intolerance really look like.

Update! The list of things you aren’t allowed to say just gets longer and longer.

In August, I was locked out of my Twitter account for the first time. I was told that I had “violated [Twitter’s] rules against hateful conduct” and that I had to delete four tweets in order to gain access to my account again. In this case, the tweets in question named Lisa Kreut, a trans-identified male, as the individual who targetedFeminist Current’s ad revenue and led efforts to have Vancouver Rape Relief blacklisted at the 2016 BCFED Convention.

On November 15th, my account was locked again. This time, I was told I must delete a tweet from October, saying, “Women aren’t men,” and another, asking, “How are transwomen not men? What is the difference between a man and a transwoman?”

After dutifully deleting the tweets in question in order to gain access to my account again, I tweeted, angrily, “This is fucking bullshit, @twitter. I’m not allowed to say that men aren’t women or ask questions about the notion of transgenderism at all anymore? That a multi-billion dollar company is censoring basic facts and silencing people who ask questions about this dogma is insane.” This tweet went viral, racking up 20,000 likes before Twitter locked my account again on Monday morning, demanding I delete it. This time they offered no explanation at all — not even a vague accusation of “hateful conduct.”

To be fair, it’s not that insane. Multi-billion dollar companies are clearly primarily interested in profit, not free speech or women’s rights. But Twitter is a company that represents itself as a platform for communication, for debate, and for sharing ideas, news, and information.

And you believed that bumptious horsepuckey, did ya? See, that was your first mistake, from whence all the other trouble sprouted.

What is insane to me, though, is that while Twitter knowingly permits graphic pornography and death threats on the platform (I have reported countless violent threats, the vast majority of which have gone unaddressed), they won’t allow me to state very basic facts, such as “men aren’t women.”

What seems insane to me is that so many people keep on using Twitter knowing full well they’ve banned who even knows how many people for daring to question shitlib orthodoxy in even the most diffident, humble, and polite way, expecting a different result in their own case. Then again, I never have given a lumpy fart about Twitter anyway, so what the hell do I know? Nicole Russell picks up the ball and runs with it:

It appears Murphy was banned solely due to repeatedly pointing out that men cannot be transformed into women simply because they want to call themselves women. This is a fact at best, and Murphy’s opinion at worst. Murphy refused to bend to the progressive view that the transgender issue is now nearly as sacrosanct as abortion. She was not banned for hateful conduct or speech but for failing to fall in line with the progressive agenda Twitter embraces.

Of course, Twitter is a private company and can do whatever it likes. But they have billed themselves as an open platform, one that welcomes debate, ideas, and sharing. 

Yeah, well, they lied. Liberals always do—about everything, but most especially about “debate, communication, ideas,” et al. They quite like to congratulate themselves on how very much those things mean to them while bereft of any interest whatsoever in them, and are prone to becoming enraged when called on it. The sooner you accept that simple home truth, the sooner you can stop wasting your time trying to have an honest discussion with them and get on with your life.

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The greatest orator since Cicero!

No class, no integrity, no decency, no clue.

Barack Obama trashed President Trump on Monday night while speaking about ways to mobilize Americans to bring about social change at an Obama Foundation Summit in Chicago.

Arrogant Obama accused President Trump of ignoring the climate change hoax because he’s a racist with mommy issues.

“The reason we don’t” invest in climate change policies, Obama said, “is because we are still confused, blind, shrouded with hate, anger, racism…mommy issues.”

The audience of drones laughed after Obama trashed Trump.

Obama stuttered as he continued to talk about himself and even bragged about being called “Spock.”

“I mean, we — we are we are fraught with stuff and — and so if that’s the case then the single most important thing that we have to invest in is not all–and look I’m a huge supporter of science and technological research and social science and, you know, evidence-based learning and all that good stuff. I’m — I’m — people call me Spock for a reason, I believe in reason and logic and all these enlightenment values, but the thing that really we have to invest in is people. We got to get people to figure out how they work together — in a — you know, how do we get people to work together in a cooperative, thoughtful, constructive way.”

Can anyone make any sense at all of the world-salad this stuttering moron just barfed up?

“People call me Spock for a reason”? Gotta be the ears. Or maybe the winning, likeable personality, I’m guessing. It ain’t the logic, the intelligence, or the overall competence, that’s for damned sure and certain.

Dry up and blow away already, you flaccid, stunted prick. When we want any more shit from you, we’ll squeeze your oblated head.

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Bummer

Remember the story about the homeless guy buying gas for a woman stranded in Philly, after which they rasied a bunch of dough for him with a GoFundMe campaign? I wrote about it myself at the time; if I remember right, the homeless guy was a military vet; after the girl he helped and her husband tracked him down, he got himself cleaned up, found a job and place to live, etc. He had finally gotten himself back on track, and the whole thing was just heartwarming, a real feel-good story if ever there was one.

Well. About all that.

Authorities say a New Jersey couple and a homeless man made up a “feel good” story about the man helping them so they could raise money through an online fundraiser.

Burlington County prosecutors outlined the allegations against Mark D’Amico, Katelyn McClure and Johnny Bobbitt on Thursday. All three are charged with theft by deception and conspiracy to commit theft by deception.

The couple has claimed they set up a GoFundMe page for Bobbitt after he helped McClure get gas when she became stranded in Philadelphia last year. But prosecutors say they found evidence all three knew each other for at least a month before and set up the scheme.

D’Amico and McClure surrendered Wednesday night. Their attorney said they have no comment. Bobbitt is jailed in Philadelphia. A previous lawyer of his didn’t return a call seeking comment.

I guess the lesson here is that cynical old farts like me should never, ever let our dwindling faith in humanity be even partially restored by stories like this. Not until the other shop drops, at least. Confirmation, as if any were needed, that the Warm Fuzzies will lead ya astray every danged time.

Bah.

(Via Sundance)

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

"To put it simply, the Left is the stupid and the insane, led by the evil. You can’t persuade the stupid or the insane and you had damn well better fight the evil." - Skeptic

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