Cold Fury

Harshing your mellow since 9/01

Empty threats

You say you want a revolution? You sure? I mean, like, really, really sure?

Nolan’s tiny scrawny manlet public displays of social-justice PMS are balanced—in a purely fat-shaming way—by that of manatee filmmaker Michael Moore, who has yet to die of a heart attack or from choking to death on one of his chins. Moore is working on a film set to be released this September which makes the case that Donald Trump is an evil man, and only righteous millionaire fat white men who have a net worth of $50 million and live in nearly all-white enclaves are capable of generating sufficient empathy for the poor and downtrodden nonwhites who have to deal with those stupid evil wealthy white men all the time.

Moore, who has spent most of the past decade transitioning into a beanbag chair, recently appeared on The Late Show With Stephen Colbert, and it was immediately evident that both he and Colbert warmed up for the show by splitting a six-pack of liquid estrogen. They were unhappy and uncomfortable and unmanly and unfunny about Donald Trump and the fact that these are dangerous times and we need to maybe do something counter-dangerous in order to stop all that danger and all those Muslims being beheaded and all those cartel members being beheaded and even though if you want to get technical, those two groups are the ones doing most of the beheading these days, it’s the moral principle that counts.

Seriously, these idiots are a broken record. What’s worse, they’re a deaf broken record. They don’t hear how they sound.

“I see them as my children,” Moore said of the little brown babies screaming at the border that he will never meet nor help in any tangible way. What the adipose auteur fails to realize is that these children probably see him as nothing more than a sucker.

When Colbert continued to press Moore about, you know, since we have to do something, what are we gonna do, Moore said that Democrats have been “so wimpy and weak,” but now they’re all going to have to pretend that their children are being kidnapped and start freaking out over it all at the same time:

We’re not talking about political differences. We’re talking about thousands of children being kidnapped and put in jails….The only way that we’re going to stop this is eventually we’re all going to have to put our bodies on the line. You’re going to have to be willing to do this.

Putting your body on the line, Mr. Moore? How about putting it on a StairMaster instead?

Moore is a shit-talking dumbass in love with the sound of his own voice, all blubber and no meat. As Goad concludes, any civil war fought by pusillanimous blowhards like Moore and Colbert will be the shortest one in history. The funniest, too. The mental image of Moore struggling uphill in dense woods in August carrying a rifle and a fifty-pound ruck, or crouching panic-stricken in a shallow trench as bullets snap and snarl over his misshapen head and his own piss streams down his leg, would have to warm the heart of any real American, though.


All too happy to oblige

Gonna need some brain bleach over here, stat!

Thursday’s The View started off with an astounding nearly 10-minute-long meltdown over Justice Kennedy’s retirement from the Supreme Court, and the second chance for President Trump to appoint a judge for the highest court of the land, during his first two years in office. Liberal Whoopi Goldberg and Joy Behar were the most upset about the news with Whoopi angrily attacking host Meghan McCain, Republicans and Christians for potentially challenging Roe v Wade.

It was then Whoopi’s turn to rage that abortion rights we’re going to be “taken away” from Republicans who “don’t care” about women’s rights:

I don’t like hearing, again, that I’m trying to take your rights away. I have to tell you, as a woman, I think you’re trying to take my rights away. Okay? You don’t care.

Well, you got that bit right, at least.

And as a person, who believes in the constitution which tells me that I have the right to be myself and do the things I want to do,

Pretty sure that bit ain’t in there, actually. But then, the constitution you claim to “love” and “believe in” bears no resemblance to the one the Founders established anyway. You shitlibs have practically made a full-time career out of finding things in there that ain’t, while denying or ignoring the things that are.

and I don’t have to listen to what your religion is, and I don’t have to listen to what you want it to be I have to make sure that as an American citizen, I’m doing the right stuff and taking care of business.

I don’t like this line that I, as a Democrat, or an independent or whatever is trying to take away anything from you.

Except my liberty, my right to self-determination, my 2A rights, my freedom of speech, my right to be left alone, my right to hold conservative views free from harassment and assault and to have them respected, my right to elect a president of my own choosing without having the election overturned, my right to dissent from Left orthodoxy without enduring your scorn and derision, and one hell of a lot of others—yeah, you don’t want to take away a damned thing, do ya?

I’m trying to hold onto my personal rights so that you can have the rights you want. See? Because if you take mine, I feel like you’re the one with the problem. If you take my right away from me, to judge what I do for my family and my body

“Family”? WHAT family? You killed it a-borning in an abortion mill.

I got a little problem with that. You got a problem. You don’t want people to take your guns?

Slight but crucial distinction here: it’s not so much that we “don’t want” you to take our guns; we AREN’T GOING TO ALLOW liberal fascists like you to take our guns. There’s a difference, see. Another difference: my right to own guns is actually, y’know, quite specifically and clearly enshrined in the Constitution, supported by every single damned word every one of the Founders ever uttered on the topic both before and after it was written. Your “right” to heartlessly murder innocent unborn children because you consider them an inconvenience…umm, well, isn’t.

Get out of my behind! Get out of my vagina! Get out!

And there it is. Whoopi, I absolutely, categorically assure you that there ain’t enough money and/or booze on this planet to induce me to be anywhere near your vagina at any time, for even a moment. Full stop, end of story.

An aside: please understand something here, folks. Speaking strictly for myself, I do NOT support a blanket ban on abortion, everywhere and in all circumstances, and I doubt I ever will. I have no idea how many of us out there DO, honestly. There are instances—regrettable, tragic ones to be sure—where abortion is necessary, the lesser of two evils. Threat to the life of the mother would be one; it happened to some close friends of mine, in fact, and was an awful, shattering thing for all involved. I myself would say that cases of rape or incest might be another; I just can’t see forcing someone to bear a child produced by such severe trauma and violation against her wishes, myself. But YMMV, and probably does.

What most of us are arguing for, and have been from the start, is the return of such decisions to their proper Constitutional realm: the states. The above-mentioned are deep, highly personal matters, of great consequence to those involved, and as such are best handled by those closest to the situation and immediately affected by it. Which is, y’know, the exact reason the Constitution says what it says, and does what it does. The Founders knew all this, and agreed with it, and did their level best to restrict the ability of an overlarge, meddlesome federal government to botch things up with one-size-fits-all edicts from Mordor On The Potomac, just as they in their prescient wisdom knew it would.

This is why Roe V Wade was such a self-evident, ass-backwards screwup. By manufacturing a nonexistent “right” to unfettered, limitless abortion-on-demand, Roe stood the Constitution on its head, magicking the foundational principles behind it into their exact opposite. The incredible irony here is that with their insistence on a phony “living Constitution,” liberals provided for the eventual destruction of its flimsy, written-in-quicksand “guarantees” and denied themselves the protection, fragile though it may sometimes be, provided by the real one. Their ignorant, underhanded dismissal of a literal interpretation of the Constitution weakened it, just as they intended. Their establishment of a grotesque federal Superstate in its stead made all of us vulnerable to tyranny in direct consequence.


None of which—the Constitution, states’ rights, limited government, respect for the rights of the individual—is what Whoopsie and her ilk are arguing for, which is why they have to lie about our position on abortion and other issues the way they do. In the case at hand specifically, what they really demand is abortion as a means of post-facto contraception—often enough, to be paid for by the tax dollars of people who find abortion morally repugnant, which is itself yet another kettle of stinky, rotting fish. On the larger issues, they’d have been a lot better off to insist not on a boundless federal government empowered to rule at its own whim, but on the greater responsiveness, flexibility, and accountability of the one the Founders set up. It’s kind of remarkable they can’t see it, when you think about it.


Off their rocker

Roger Simon takes a peek into the rubber room.

Self-destructive, nincompoop behavior is rampant with members of the so-called Resistance (what a desecration of the real Resistance that is!) now showing up at restaurants to harass members of the administration while they eat. Do these clowns have any idea how that plays in Middle America? Do these people think they are accomplishing anything but their own defeat?

And how about yet another Fonda hoping Trump’s young son would be locked in a cage with pederasts. Does that aging Hollywood nitwit actually think he’s influencing public opinion in his direction by saying that? Has he had a lobotomy?

The problem is that it’s not just Hollywood lamebrains and jejune social justice idiots that have been infected, it’s the entire liberal/progressive side of the country, starting with the literary/media elites who give them their marching orders.

They are all having a nervous breakdown and it keeps getting worse, because… because…. because Trump.

But I have news for them.  It’s not at all about Trump. It’s about them.

Trump is what the shrinks call the ‘presenting complaint.” The real problem, as is often the case in psychotherapy, is something entirely different. And it is this: the left is dead. It’s not only dead, it’s decomposed with no there there or anywhere.

Only dopes or con artists believe in socialism anymore (hello, Venezuela!) and identity politics has been exposed as the racist shell game it is with blacks and Latinos actually doing better than they have in decades under the current pro-capitalist administration.

So the left has nothing to say, only most of them don’t quite realize it yet.

May they never figure it out—until their ossified, toxic ideology is dead as a doornail, never to rise again.


Gonna have to pass on this one, thanks

Daniel calls it “the deal of a lifetime,” but…well…

The Clintons partied like it was 2015 on Thursday night, hosting a $100,000-a-table star-studded gala designed to relaunch their troubled family charity. 

On offer at a post-dinner auction was a trip to the Caribbean with Bill – or chardonnay with Hillary.  

Also on offer, was ‘chardonnay with Hillary Clinton’. The program said: ‘Savor a rare opportunity to enjoy a glass of wine with one of the most admired and respected women in the world. 

‘During this experience of a lifetime, get to know the woman who has been on the frontlines of the fight for social justice, children’s advocacy, women’s equality, and human rights across the globe, all while enjoying a glass of her favorite Chardonnay.’
That prompted an auction battle with the auctioneer saying: ‘This is more drama than Trump v Mueller.’

The winning bid was $65,000, to the obvious delight of Bill.

Yeah, I just bet so.

On the other hand, though, it might have been worth that much to remind her that no matter what she does, she’s never going to be president—then dump the hooch at her feet and watch as she falls to her knees and desperately tries to lick it off the floor.



Hey, remember when Trump was patently unqualified to be President because he was a mere celebrity, a near-lifelike TV character with no political experience, no knowledge of how the DC game is played?

Yeah, well. About that.

Elizabeth Warren can’t be happy about Oprah considering a run. Big Chief Running Mouth is shrill and annoying, and you get the idea that she’s always on the verge of telling you to use your inside voice. Oprah is calm and soothing and offers mindless insights about how you have to be the very best you you can be, and how you always have to stand in your own truth. The rabble-rousing squaw wants to get people riled up and on the warpath. But Winfrey wants to calm them down, to make them relax, to allow them not to think, and to be swept away in the feel-good vibes. She wants to be the Oprah-oid of the masses.

Warren wants to keep resisting. Oprah’s secret is her unspoken promise of a return to normalcy, of calm and quiet. But, of course, that’s a lie. Oprah will be an activist liberal and will put a bull’s eye on those of us who refuse to fawn and applaud.

Oprah superficially seems to love everybody. She’s all feelings and hugs, but a TV show isn’t the campaign trail, and since the liberal media no longer has a monopoly of coverage, she won’t get to write the script. The truth will come out. Oprah already has her own deplorable problem – there’s an interview with her suggesting a good chunk of non-liberal Americans are racist and need to die. These people are apparently not the very best yous they can be, and must therefore be purged.

Oprah checks all the liberal boxes. She believes in science, meaning she thinks both heat waves and cold fronts prove global warming, that you can change your gender by wanting to, that vaccines are a conspiracy, and that Dr. Oz’s magic fungus extract will cleanse your body of negative waves, thereby allowing you to be the very best you you can be.

You know she’s going to hate guns in the hands of anyone but her private security force. You know that she believes in perpetual conflict over race, gender, and all the other touchstones of liberal hate-mongering. You know that a Winfrey administration would be filled with the same band of punks and hacks who brought us ISIS, North Korean nukes, and who abandoned the Iranian freedom fighters just before shipping their oppressors pallets of 100 dollar bills.

All of which underscores not just Oprah’s primary obstacle, but the Democrat Socialist Party’s as well. If their desperation was a tsunami approaching the West Coast, people as far east as, say, Missouri would be well advised to pack up and flee. And if futility was a snowstorm, we’d all be until June digging out from under it.


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

Apparently so, yeah.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Update! Creep confessional.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Via David Bernstein)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All proud liberals—ALL. Against…what?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We’re gonna need more popcorn, looks like.


“Basically the Democrat Party is a Duke lacrosse team that actually did it”

Okay, I know I said this whole sordid, tawdry mess was waaay up over the shark with the Ron Jeremy accusations. And I wasn’t wrong, really.

But…Charlie Rose? Charlie friggin’ Rose? Seriously?

Okay, I gotta admit that I did NOT expect that one; this business hasn’t just jumped the shark, it’s hovering overhead, thumbing its nose and blowing raspberries at him. I also gotta admit that I’m with Ace on this particular bit:

Again with the walking around naked.

Honestly, I had no idea this was such a thing.

Me neither. Elsewhere Ace kind of seems to miss one, though:

This is the standard liberal line, from Matthew Dowd to FoxNews “analyst” AB Stoddard: Al Franken admitted what he did.

No, he didn’t. Tweeden had photographic proof he groped her; he “admitted” that, which could not be denied. There was a fucking picture of him caught red-handed, as it were.

He refuses to admit the even more egregious part of her allegation, that he forcibly tongue kissed her.

Because there’s no proof on that one.

Just her claim.

Which counts as proof against Roy Moore, but not against Al Franken, for some reason I can’t even guess at.

Oh, that’s the easiest one of all, and I suspect Ace knows it as well as I do: because Franken is a fully-paid-up member of Team Commie, and Moore is not.

And that’s it. That’s all it takes. In order to get away with anything, absolutely anything at all, and be excused for it by the Left, all you have to do is be on their side politically. If you are, nothing that you do, absolutely nothing at all, will induce them to throw you under the bus, at least until you’re no longer useful to them. You can violate any and every “principle” they claim to hold most dear as egregiously as you can contrive to, and…nothing. They will find a way not just to sweep it under the rug, but will actually make complete fools of themselves trying to find some way—any way—to blame it on the Republican Demon Du Jour.

That’s one of the traps you set for yourself when “the personal is political,” see. Schlichter explains:

The Democrats used to be able to exploit the fact that GOP voters actually have morals. But then the tyranny of the new rules arose and their ploy stopped working. Gloria Allred dragged out a bunch of accusers to try and get us to abandon Trump in 2016, and all she got was a “Meh.” People saw the math didn’t work.

“You are morally obligated to dump this guy based on the shaky contentions of a bunch of people a rabid liberal partisan who makes money off such accusations produced, and you must therefore vote for the woman who spent the last thirty years trashing the abused women her husband left weeping in his wake. Because patriarchy.”

Nope. No more. Republicans refused to allow their morals to be weaponized against them again, and it confounded the libs. That meant they had to rely on their candidate and their policy positions and, well, that went poorly.

See, that’s the problem with hypocrisy. It’s not merely that the idea that, “If you do it you lose, and if we do it, we still get to win,” is so galling, though it is. It’s that it can actually change the rules. The rule used to be that accused sexual abusers can’t be politicians. That stopped being the rule when the Democrats Move(d) On. So when they tried to invoke the rule in 2016, they found it was uninvokeable.

This is how you got Roy Moore, who should have arranged to be in a federal corruption trial right (now) because then no one in the Senate would be demanding that he drop out. Alabama voters might very well choose the guy who dated babies over the one who wants to kill them, and if Moore wins, a good part of the reason will be, “The hell with you liberals.”

Certainly true, and in a lot more places than just Alabama, too. But as I said yesterday, they don’t care that they’re contorting themselves into pretzel shapes and contradicting themselves on an hourly basis right out in public trying to make this work out in their favor; they have not the most trifling concern for reason, consistency, integrity, or decency. And why should they? They’ll never have the vaguest clue how many of us out there are laughing ourselves silly or shaking our heads in bemused disgust at them over this degenerate lunacy, and they don’t care what we might think or say anyway. The NYT, WaPo, MSABCNNBC, and the rest of the Old Media spirit squad are all diligently presenting their manic floundering as perfectly reasonable and sane, and that’s all they’re ever going to see or care about.

And the Vichy GOPe is helping as best they can. They’re all working as one to try to keep up the skeer on Moore, even as each accusation against him crumbles into dust one by one by one, and maintaining that the real perverted sex criminal is one Donald J Trump, who MUST BE IMPEACHED IMMEDIATELY because he told the truth about how some women react to wealth and fame once. Also, he said “pussy,” which is a hate crime worse than lynching unless you’re a rap artist, a militant bull-dagger wearing one for a hat, or Bill Clinton on the golf course. It all comes down to the same thing—and “principles” don’t even enter into it.

They’re never gonna admit what they did was immoral. They’re never gonna admit that what they did was a miscalculation. Because everything they do is because they intend to do it. They do not have moral lapses. You would have to have morality in the first place to have a moral lapse. They do not have moral lapses.

They are not nice people. They are not tolerant people. They are none of the things that they have told you you have to be. They’re none of the compassionate, understanding, open-minded people willing to give people a break. That’s not who they are. They are willing to pounce and destroy anybody that they want to take out with the slightest provocation, the bare minimum of reason.

You know, F. Scott Fitzgerald said the rich really are different. They’re not like you and me. Maybe. But I’ll tell you who isn’t like you and me, and that’s these leftist liberals and communists. They are not like you and me. And it is a mistake to assume you can rationally persuade them, talk to them, or whatever, like you would talk to anybody else that you feel comfortable talking to. They hate you. They’re predisposed to hate you, and there’s nothing that can change that, especially if they don’t know who they are.

If all they know about you is whether or not you’re a conservative or Republican, then that’s all it takes. In their minds, they don’t make mistakes of behavior, of right and wrong. They make mistakes of calculation. They’ll make political calculation mistakes, but not behavioral or virtuous, those kinds of mistakes. Nah-nah-nah-nah. They’re not capable of those kind of mistakes, ’cause they are what is. In their minds, they are what’s normal. You and I are the odd people that need the men in the white coats in the little yellow bus picking us up from school every day and taking us to parts unknown. And they never stop any of that. That is their lives.

They get up, they spend a day, and they go to sleep calculating, plotting, thinking, they dream of it, it is their lives. Your life, this stuff (is) not primary or even secondary. Maybe tertiary. You have other things going on in your life. You actually try to live your life. This is everything to them, acquiring the power, maintaining the power, and then, most importantly, using the power against us, their enemies.

Annnnd bingo. Right there it is. No more, no less.

Which is why I think what we have to be focused on is not just defeating them, certainly not debating or attempting to convince them, but crushing them into the fucking dust. Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be making our case logically right along, of course. But Aesop knows what the point of that really is, and what we accomplish by it:

To imagine (Klavan is) seriously expecting that the Left will suddenly break suction, pull their heads out, and start acting like rational human beings is to ignore the body of Klavan’s work to date.

His work is masterful black comedy, for its own sake, and his remonstrations to the Left are in the same vein as lecturing a puppy before applying the rolled up newspaper: one doesn’t do it because they expect the pooch will suddenly stand upright on its hind legs, hang its head, and profess sorrow, remorse, and an earnest aspiration to behave better, delivered in the Queen’s English.

They do it to observe the proprieties before the Sword (or in this example, the Rolled-Up Newspaper) of Justice falls, and delivers the Smackdown of Justified Wrath on the guilty party.

In short, you don’t do it for Fido, you do it for you. This is why you’re not just a brutal thug beating a dumb animal, and it’s also why you don’t shoot the dog. (Or the Left.)

At least until they graduate from being asses, to being outright terrorists, at which point lopping heads off is all well and good, as Klavan would assent to in a heartbeat.

I wouldn’t shoot a dog for peeing on a fire hydrant, and I wouldn’t shoot a Leftist for being an ignorant braying jackass. In both cases, it’s what they do.

But when either one graduates from transgressing polite behavior, to threatening life and limb, they need to be put down.

They’re pushing nearer and nearer to that point every day, with riots and violent attacks against us all around the country over the past year. It’s regrettable, of course, and I don’t know many folks on our side who are really happy about it. But there doesn’t really seem to be any way to get them to see the light and finally back off. Sooner or later, people will get tired of being punching bags for roving bands of vicious, cowardly goons who intend to dispense once and for all with the last tattered shreds of a Constitution they’ve been pissing over for decades and enslave them under a Marxist tyranny, and are no longer the least bit reticent about saying so right up front.

They will not stop. They will have to BE stopped. And all I can think to say to that is: so be it.

So hey, might as well enjoy a good laugh over their perv problem in the meantime, right?


Circling the wagons

Their hypocrisy knows no bounds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


The Weinstein-Progressivist axis

So I mentioned in one of last night’s posts that I was having a discussion with CF lifer Sam that I’d be bringing up and expanding on in a later post, at his request. His proposition is basically that L’Affaire Weinstein is nothing more nor less than, in his words, “Progressivism writ large.” To wit:

I have been thinking lately about the parallels between progressivism as a whole and the Harvey Weinstein saga. For example most normal thinking people know that the core elements of progressivism are nonsense, yet they go along with it to save jobs, relationships, etc, etc. People are so afraid of the twin howler monkeys of political correctness and leftist dogma. Much the same as the Weinstein stuff was an open secret in Hollywood but the people in the business shielded him to protect themselves from his ability to destroy their jobs and relationships. The Harvey Weinstein saga is progressivism writ large.

On a personal note, I having been greatly enjoying watching all of the sanctimonious bastards in Hollywood be forced to live by their own rules.

I was wondering what your eloquently profane take is on this.

His point is well-taken and damned nigh inarguable on even cursory reflection, but it puts me in mind of another one I’ve been considering ever since the story broke. Actually, for longer than that—ever since every Lefty luminary feigned shock and horror over the Bill Cosby Sleazapalooza “revelations.”

I mentioned at the start of the Weinstein cesspool-dunk that the Hollywood casting couch is hardly some new and startling revelation; it’s been my contention for years that rattling in the closets of any and every successful actor or (especially) actress blessed with even slight physical attractiveness are tawdry skeletons consisting of everything from cheesy nude photos right up to full-on homemade porn flicks, shot right in the offices of producers, directors, and other wielders of Tinseltown power as something of an introductory job interview.

I’ve known quite a few actors over the years, even dated a couple or three—no names you would recognize, other than Marisa Tomei, with whom I had a wee bit more than a nodding acquaintance for a minute there; call it a very casual, occasional, and superficial friendship, and that will be close enough. I have had tiny speaking parts in a couple of movies myself, and even floundered my way through an embarrassingly disastrous reading for the lead-bad-guy role in an indie horror production done by a friend of mine when I was living in NYC which was later picked up for distribution by Troma. With even that limited experience, I can tell you that the ongoing existence and importance of the casting couch to establishing a career in film or TV doesn’t even rise to the level of an open secret among those in the business or associated with it in some more peripheral way.

Here’s the thing, though: it’s not the fact of its existence but the acceptance of that fact that matters here. And despite the current handwringing, it IS accepted—not just by those who control it and enjoy its depraved privileges, but also by those lying back and thinking of England after being forced onto it. Continue reading “The Weinstein-Progressivist axis”


Tell us how you REALLY feel…

In the comments here, the esteemed and estimable Aesop says:

The National Felony League has no clue what a firestorm they’ve unleashed by coddling this crapola.

I’m betting that Mattis’ DoD comes down on them next, followed by the advertisers, then the owners dump Goodall, and the @$$clown player purges start with a vengeance.

If they’re smart, and do this in a hurry, they get over it in 5-10 years.

If they dig in harder, they become roller derby.

Okay, that’s good squishy right there sure enough. But then, over at his place, he REALLY uncorks:

For the benefit of the illiterate double-digit IQ players: any display whatsoever during the national anthem is still a me!me!me!-fest, for you attention-whoring douchebags, and just as obnoxious as the original displays, @$$holes.

Probably more so, since you have yet to apologize for the earlier virtue-signaling grandstanding, sh*tting on America, and wiping your @$$#$ with the flag, and have in fact doubled down, doing it now without the slightest bit of shame.

The national anthem isn’t about you pampered sports pussies, it’s about the country of US.

You want to put your hands somewhere, it’s easy (unless you were born in Kenya and raised in Indonesia): your right hand goes over your heart, and your left hand goes at your side.

Linking your arms is the same middle finger to America that all your other antics have been, and we’re not buying the bullsh*t.

Until you stop ALL DISPLAYS during the national anthem, other than one of humble respect for the flag and nation you live in, and under whose blessings you’re all favored to be paid far more than you deserve for a pretty meager set of skills in anything but a society of bountiful plenty, you’re all still just a bunch of disrespectful bums, who deserve to be kicked to the curb until you’re forced to earn a real living at a real job, or fired by the spineless jellyfish who nominally run your League Of Losers.

Ouch. That stung all the way over here. Pretty much says it all, too—especially his closing statement, perfectly expressed in graphic form.

Out of the mouths of babes brats update! Moron accidentally stumbles upon wisdom, fails to recognize its significance:

Don’t come to the game.

That’s the message a couple of the Titans’ star players have for any outraged fans threatening to turn their back on the team…

“First off, I’m going to say this: We’re not disrespecting the military, the men and women that serve in the Army. That’s not what it’s all about,” Titans tight end Delanie Walker said…

“And the fans that don’t want to come to the game? I mean, OK. Bye. I mean, if you feel that’s something, we’re disrespecting you, don’t come to the game. You don’t have to. No one’s telling you to come to the game. It’s your freedom of choice to do that.”

That right there is advice we should all be heeding…until Walker and his ilk are all stocking shelves at Wal Mart, manning drive-thru windows, filling in potholes, or cleaning hotel rooms for a living. And as Stephen adds: we’re way ahead of you, pal.


Reality bites!

The weeping, the wailing, the gnashing of teeth.

Republican Karen Handel defeated Democrat Jon Ossoff in a closely-watched special House election Tuesday night, the Associated Press projected.

The loss was a disappointing setback for Democrats, who had hoped to capitalize on President Trump’s low approval ratings to win the long-standing Republican seat. It was also the fourth straight loss this year for Democrats in their attempts to win a Republican seat and take the momentum into the 2018 midterms. They now must win 24 GOP seats to retake control of House.

Go check out Kellyanne Conway’s Tweet at the link. It’s priceless, trust me.

Hate to bring up NPR again—okay, no I don’t, not when I’m rubbing their noses in it like this—but another thing I heard there earlier today was a big, long story and interview on and with the Golden Boy, the Miraculous Ossoff, who was going to make Trump The Bad Man stop hurting them at last. They were so cheery, so hopeful; they knew, they just KNEW, that at last they’d get themselves a victory. I mean, with ALL THAT MONEY raised for him, it couldn’t be more clear that the nation was ready to give the commie-colluding orange ursuper his well-earned comeuppance at last.

Ossoff is wonderful. Ossoff is charming. Ossoff is bright. Determined, capable, experienced, wise. He himself went on a fairish bit about his nearly-realized intention to roll back the dismal tide of Trumpian sewage all by himself, as if he too had come to believe his press clippings amounted to more than just a passel of “liberal” wishful thinking, another gauzy dream soon to be denied.

Gee, guess they didn’t realize that ALL THAT MONEY came not from the great masses of Americans who don’t seem to hate Trump nearly as much as they do, but almost entirely from nump-brained Hollywood nitwits swilling the same tainted KoolAde the rest of the sad, piteous Left was.

And I looked, but inexplicably, I cannot find a link at NPR to this morning’s worshipful puff-piece. Odd, that.

Cry, cry, cry, libtards. And while you’re at it, suck on it, good and hard, until you choke. The Trump Train is still rolling, and we ain’t done whupping your pathetic asses quite yet.

Poor dears; they have all these big plans for us witless proles, whether we like ’em or not. But those darned pesky elections keep getting in their way. Guess now we can all get back to earnest lectures about the importance of “bipartisanship” and “working together” and all the other tommyrot they try to peddle when they’re losing.

At least until the next mainstream, typical Democrat Socialist flips out and tries to shoot a bunch of us, I mean. After this setback, I’d guess it won’t be too long a-coming, given how much they seem to have invested in their delusional fantasy of winning this one.


The Oscars!

Meh. It still amazes me that anyone watches this shitshow every year; I never have given so much as a single damn about it, and never will. This sums it all up pretty nicely:

Yes, the Oscars were last night and in case you missed it, just look up any of Fidel Castro’s speeches and settle in for several hours of anti-Americanism that’s eminently more entertaining than that parade of pig-ignorant egomania.

And probably way more erudite, articulate, logical, and factually and historically accurate, too.


Out of touch, out of ideas, out of power

And good riddance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Both via Insty)


Name ’em and shame ’em

Y’know, they’ve been doing this since Streisand started it back in the Bush years, and as far as I know, not one of them has actually done it yet.

Well, it’s time. Put up or shut up, assholes.

Amy Schumer recently told BBC Newsnight that anyone who doesn’t like Hillary Clinton is uninformed. She went on to say that she would move to Spain if Trump was elected.

“It’s beyond my comprehension if Trump won. It’s just too crazy,” she said.

Okay then.

But Schumer’s not alone in her anger. Indeed, she’s just the latest in a long string of celebrities who have taken the “brave” stand of saying they’ll leave the country if Trump wins. Here’s a list of 23 of them.

Every one of them a fucking idiot, not a one of them who will actually do it, more’s the pity. As Ace says, “Try not to break your stupid necks tripping over the border.” I’ll leave you with one from the originator of this whiny tripe:

16. Barbra Streisand

Who? Singer.

Where would she move? Australia or Canada.

“He has no facts. I don’t know, I can’t believe it. I’m either coming to your country [Australia], if you’ll let me in, or Canada,” she told Australian journalist Michael Usher.

Man, there has GOT to be some way to hold her to it this time. Away with you, bitch. Don’t let the door etc.

What, she’s still here? Damn.


Peak lunacy

Reached it, we has.

The transgender community is angry at Mark Ruffalo (The Avengers, 2012) for casting an openly gay man as a transgender woman in his upcoming transgender drama Anything.

I’m tempted just to end the whole danged post right there. I mean, what can you really hope to add to that perfect sentence?

Ruffalo felt the need to justify himself on Twitter, nearly apologizing when faced with the outrageous demand that he scrap the movie, which has already been filmed. An op ed in the Huffington Post even alleged that having a gay man (Matt Bomer, White Collar) play a transgender woman would result in violence.

“Most important, if you release this film, statistically speaking, trans people will likely be attacked or killed because of the stereotypes it contains, especially by casting Matt Bomer as a woman,” wrote Mya Byrne, a transgender musician, recording engineer, actor, and “social justice activist” from San Francisco. She insisted that “historically, anytime Hollywood says, ‘Oh, trans women are just men in drag,’ and portrays them as such, there is a marked — and measurable — uptick in so-called ‘trans panic’ killings, harassment, beatings, discrimination, and suicide rates. It gives bigots a leg to stand on.”

So, would it be better for Hollywood not to make any LGBT movies to begin with?

Fine by me. But then, I ain’t Hollywood’s target audience, not having bothered with movies in about, oh, twenty years or more. The last time they did anything I had any interest in at all was the final installment of Lord Of The Rings. Judging by Ruffalo’s groveling, utterly pathetic response (“To the Trans community. I hear you. It’s wrenching to you see you in this pain. I am glad we are having this conversation. It’s time,” rather than a hearty “go piss up a rope, fascist”), we can dismiss this as a moderately amusing Blue On Blue assault, and I can safely go back to not giving a shit about the movies—or anything else that gets flushed out of Hollywood into our cultural cesspool.


Blather on, blatherskites

Just a bunch of shit-talking assholes flapping their yaps to no good purpose.

Barbra Streisand revealed during an Australian TV interview that she will move Down Under if Donald Trump is elected President of the United States in November.

The 74-year-old actress, a lifelong Democrat who endorses Hilary Clinton in the US election, made the admission during an interview with 60 Minutes.

Barbra told Sydney-based journalist Michael Usher on Sunday she would consider relocating to Australia or Canada in the event of a Trump presidency.

Take off already, Lefty douchebag, and stop just talking about it. No need to wait around for the election. Not, as Ed notes, that she or any of the other “give me my way or I’m leaving” Hollywood pusbags ever have, or ever will.

If Trump can manage to drive these nitwits out of the country for good, well, that’s reason enough to support him all by itself.


Have we reached Peak Stupid yet?

It would seem so. But the day is still young, and there are still liberals extant among us.

Following a 30-minute conversation on “intersectionality” and millennial feminism, a reporter asked the panel for its thoughts on reproductive rights and women’s health issues for men who ascribe to a female gender identity.

Ayanna Pressley, a Boston city councilor at-large, said the issue of men who identify as women getting abortions is all about “elevated consciousness.”

Um. Well, I guess you could call it that, if you like. But the proper term would be “abject, embarrassing stupidity.”

“And again, no single issue, any constituency group,” she added. “The concerns of the trans community go far beyond public accommodation. The concerns of the African-American community go far beyond police brutality.”

When asked if trans women are “being denied their reproductive rights” Pressley was stumped.

“You got me on that one.”

All of which whets the appetite for some tasty but unsatisfying liberal-idiot word salad: full of sound and fury, signifying…nothing.

“I wouldn’t know any statistics on that but I would say that goes again with the same notion of community, and fighting for everyone together,” Tamblyn said. “That for me as a heterosexual white woman to talk about reproductive rights and sit on the board of directors for Planned Parenthood, I have to not just talk about my people. I have to talk about everybody. And that’s a huge thing, and that’s a major part of the discussion.”

Yum! Delicious! But somehow, I’m still hungry.

Tamblyn admitted she has a lot to learn about whether biological men are being denied abortions.

“The fact that I don’t know, the fact that I don’t have an answer should tell you a lot,” she said.

Oh, it does, sweetie. It really, really does, believe me.

(Via Maet)


CommieCon crawling to a creepy close

No mention of ISIS or Muslim terrorism; plenty of support for #BlackLiesMurder and none whatever for the beleaguered cops who are their human targets; vapid, dimwitted celebrities cracking sour and ham-handed jokes onstage about real Americans in the pitifully transparent attempt at adolescent rebellion against Daddy that is modern liberalism; unhinged Trump-hate by the bucketload; deranged lunatics of every unappealing stripe letting their freak flags fly, but no American flags anywhere—yep, it’s the Democrat Socialist convention sure enough.

Hell no, I ain’t watching it. Why on earth would I? Or any even somewhat sane person, for that matter?


Where’s your burkha, bitches?

So many things wrong with this opening paragraph I don’t even know where to start cataloging them.

Actress Meryl Streep and First Lady Michelle Obama joined Princess Lalla Salma in Morocco on Tuesday night for a traditional dinner to break the fast of Ramadan, after the three spent the afternoon speaking with local high school girls about the importance of female education and empowerment.

Meh. I’m too bored with the dimwitted pronouncements of people like these to even bother trashing ’em anymore.


Black radical-Muslim draft-dodger dies at a ripe old age after long illness, sparks an orgy of hagiographic fawning by the entire national media

There, I said it. And so did Rick Moran.

Update! “Ali earned fame fighting then said he wouldn’t risk his life fighting because it conflicted with his religious beliefs. The broader religion he followed then, as now, inspired scores of conflicts around the world. But the heavyweight champion of the world said his faith wouldn’t allow him to partake in violence. That, like Ali, was rich.

Bottom line update! Overall, I’d have to say this comes closest to my own view:

Let me sum up my thoughts. Yes, Ali was a great and talented sportsman, certainly right up there at the very top with Cobb, Mays, Ruth, Mantle, Louis, Bannister, Dempsey, Graziano, Pele, Owens, Jordan, etc. Perhaps he was the greatest sportsman of all time. I won’t argue. He was also a great entertainer and a super celebrity who had intelligence, a sense of humor, and an ability to connect with people other than with his fists. Despite his violent profession, he certainly did not come off as a thug. His personal life, however, as with many celebrity “greats,” was a mess, with his son living estranged from him. A complex man who lived large and became, perhaps, the most famous man in the world–I remember, for example, being in a small town in Morocco, and there were Muhammad Ali posters all over the place. Hard to find somebody on the planet who has not heard of him. But was he Great? I remain open to convincing.

I actually always kind of liked him, really, and he was definitely funny as hell at times. But after seeing a weekend’s worth of worshipful canonization in every single media outlet there is—and wondering about the motivation for it, especially the part of it that came from liberals who in other circumstances would be screaming for boxing to be banned—I felt like maybe a little balance was in order here.


Life in Soviet Amerika

Specifically, Hollywood.

Hollywood is a famously brutal place to work. So many talented people are competing for so few spots; rejection — and the insecurity that comes with it — is the norm. It’s not just actresses who see their careers evaporate at 35, replaced by the latest crop of ingénues living at the Oakwood Apartments. It’s also successful editors and screenwriters and producers who suddenly find that their phones have stopped ringing for no apparent reason. Their careers have dried up and they don’t know why — that’s what’s so difficult to bear. Conservatives in the industry face an additional question with no clear answer: Have their political views stifled their careers?

Within Friends of Abe, there’s a fierce debate over whether a blacklist exists. “Anyone who denies it is intentionally misleading you or clueless,” says actor F. Lee Reynolds. “There is actual blacklisting. It does happen,” says actress Mell Flynn. Neither Reynolds nor Flynn nor anyone else I spoke to could offer proof that conservatives have been deliberately excluded from jobs. Most members say that the bias is more subtle: People hire those they know and like and, typically, those are people who think and act as they do.

Whether a blacklist exists will likely never be proven, but the fact that many members are convinced that it does speaks to the psychological need that Friends of Abe has served to fill — and never more so than at the new-member lunches. Every month or so, a few dozen initiates and their sponsors gather in the private room of the Bistro Garden restaurant in Studio City and introduce themselves and say why they want to join. On one occasion, a line producer described being dropped from a project after she expressed pro-life views. On another, a stuntman talked about how his colleagues said American troops are murderers. Grown men and women break down in tears as they reveal what they’ve gone through — and express relief in letting it all out. “It’s people who don’t have a tribe,” says John Sullivan, a documentary producer and director, “and when they find out they have a tribe, they’re so happy.” “You unburden your soul and say, ‘I have this secret that I’m not allowed to share with anybody,’” says the comedian Evan Sayet.

If this description sounds like an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, that’s how Friends of Abe members talk about the lunches. The anonymity, the sponsors, the confiding, the emotional release, the lingo (“Hi, I’m John, and I’m a conservative”) come straight from AA. “They are very similar organizations,” says Rob Long, a former executive producer on Cheers and a columnist for National Review, “because it’s like, ‘Don’t talk about it. We don’t need any scrutiny here. We’re just here for fellowship.’ To this day, Friends of Abe is the only social group in Hollywood outside of AA where the budget classes mingle.”

NO ONE CAN remember how Andrew Breitbart found his way to Friends of Abe, but one day there he was at a meeting, pounding away on his laptop. A driving force behind the Drudge Report, he had become one of the most well-known conservative provocateurs on the internet. In many ways, he served as Sinise’s opposite. Apart from a short stint after college as a studio gofer, he’d never worked in the industry. He was pugnacious and irreverent. He was also prone to grandiosity — the first time he ever logged onto the internet, he wrote, “I was reborn.” Soon after he joined Friends of Abe, he declared it was “the most beautiful and clean thing” to come out of Hollywood in years.

The co-founders of Friends of Abe had succeeded in creating a community more quickly than they had imagined, but they hadn’t changed the content of what Hollywood produced. Sinise was always skeptical that this should be a goal of the organization. Breitbart, though, believed that Friends of Abe could be more than a fellowship — that it could be a place where conservatives joined forces to produce movies and TV shows that run counter to Hollywood’s liberal consensus. Breitbart boiled this notion into a rallying cry. “Culture,” he liked to say, “is upstream from politics.” What happened on a soundstage or on a studio lot had greater influence on the direction of the country than what transpired in a hearing room on Capitol Hill — an idea that he drilled into the heads of everyone he knew in Friends of Abe, at once instilling them with a sense of greater purpose and flattering them with a sense of their own importance.

Breitbart threw himself into the cause. He recruited new members, presided over luncheons, and built the group’s first website. When the founders rebuffed his idea to turn the site into a public platform for combating liberal prejudice within the business, Breitbart launched Big Hollywood in 2008. Written by industry friends, the site was a mix of pet peeves, thoughtful critiques, and rants — not unlike what could be heard at a Friends of Abe happy hour. Breitbart’s online operation soon grew from a single homepage to a network of websites. An early booster of the Tea Party, it drew millions of readers a month and turned Breitbart into a media star.

According to Dave Berg, the former Tonight Show producer, “In the story of Hollywood conservatives, Breitbart was like the Apostle Paul” — the messenger who carried the word to the outside world. And then he was gone. On the morning of March 1, 2012, Breitbart dropped dead of a heart attack while walking near his home.

Or so they say, anyway.

Still, by most other measures, Friends of Abe has been a success. Recently, Lionel Chetwynd and I met for breakfast at Art’s Delicatessen in Studio City, an industry hangout, and talked about the group’s influence on the business that had employed him for 40 years. Chetwynd is thought of as the intellectual leader of Friends of Abe, and he’d been thinking a lot about the organization and its future.

We had spoken a few weeks earlier, when he had told me how Friends of Abe started. But now Chetwynd told me he’d left something out. During that key meeting in Sinise’s trailer, as they debated what the group would become, he stepped out for a walk with a producer friend. As the two talked, he began to see the wisdom of Sinise’s quiet approach. One day, he realized, there would come a point when Hollywood conservatives wouldn’t need Friends of Abe to meet people like themselves. They would be ­everywhere, and they’d know who they were. I later asked him, was that why he decided to break the first rule of Friends of Abe and talk to me? Yes, he said. It had been 12 years since the organization had been founded, and he could now imagine a future — it is close at hand — when Friends of Abe no longer has to operate in secret.

Wow, imagine a country where people have the right to speak freely, without fear of persecution for expressing their beliefs! Wouldn’t THAT be something. You might even want to write blanket protection for such a natural right specifically into the founding documents of such a nation; you could call that document…oh, I don’t know, say, a constitution or something like that.

Nah, too far-fetched, too open-ended. It would never work.

(Via Maet)


Make America great again!

Headline joke swiped from Ed: should we call this a promise or a threat?

Donald Trump has a message for celebrities who say they’ll leave the country if he’s elected president: Pack your bags.

The Republican presidential front-runner said Tuesday on ‘Fox & Friends’ that purging the United States of Rosie O’Donnell, Whoopi Goldberg and Lena Dunham would be a pot sweetener if he wins the White House.

‘We’ll get rid of Rosie? Oh, I love it. Now I have to get elected!’ he said during an early morning phone-in interview.

‘Now I have to get elected because I’ll be doing a great service to our country.’

He certainly would be. But they won’t do it. These whimpering asswipes always threaten the same thing every election cycle that has a Republican running in it; I’ve been mocking them here for it since the Dubya days, and not one of them has ever actually followed through on it, more’s the pity.

Another ‘View’ co-host, 30-year-old Raven Symone, boasted in February that she already had her escape route to Canada planned if the presidential election doesn’t end the way she wants it to.

‘My confession for this election is if any Republican gets nominated, I’m gonna move to Canada with my entire family,’ she said in February.

Bold added, by me, to highlight that the fascist moron slipped up and inadvertently told the truth there: these people talk about Trump being another Hitler, but the fact is they’d much prefer it if Republicans were simply prohibited from running for office, or speaking out, or even holding beliefs they disagree with; if they had their way about it, every conservative would be rounded up and herded into one of the gulags their ideological ilk are so justly infamous for. Tell me, who’s the Nazi again, now?

Donald Trump Jr., the real estate titan’s son, said in late February that he would fund the exit of any famous people who want to abandon the country in a Trump administration.

‘I’ll buy them their airfare,’ said Donald Jr. ‘Those are endorsements for Trump.’

The candidate later said he would ‘join with my boys and bank for it.’

Cher, Eddie Griffin, Barry Diller, Al Sharpton, Jon Stewart, Samuel L. Jackson and Omari Hardwick have all publicly discussed moving outside the U.S. if Trump wins.

And good riddance to every last one of you Marxist mouthbreathers. Any citizenry that prefers liberty to slavery would be way better off without you infesting and undermining it. Stop talking about it and just do it already, like Johnny Depp. At least he has the courage of his idiotic convictions, you can say that for him.

Well. Kinda, I guess. As a more intelligent man than they’ll ever be once said:

It is high time for me to put an end to your sitting in this place,

which you have dishonored by your contempt of all virtue, and defiled by your practice of every vice.

Ye are a factious crew, and enemies to all good government.

Ye are a pack of mercenary wretches, and would like Esau sell your country for a mess of pottage, and like Judas betray your God for a few pieces of money.

Is there a single virtue now remaining amongst you? Is there one vice you do not possess?

I command ye therefore, upon the peril of your lives, to depart immediately out of this place.

Go, get you out! Make haste! Ye venal slaves be gone! So! Take away that shining bauble there, and lock up the doors.

In the name of God, go!

Actually, Cromwell’s famous speech could be addressed to our own iniquitous Congress, too. In truth, it ought to be posted on the wall we’ll eventually end up having to build around Mordor on the Potomac. And Hollywood too, I guess.


Yes, they really are this stupid

Wow. Just…wow.

DURING THIS HOLIDAY SEASON, LET’S ALL PRAISE THE SOFTER SIDE OF ISIS: In a tweet Sunday afternoon, Joyce Carol Oates asked why “All we hear of ISIS is puritanical & punitive; is there nothing celebratory & joyous? Or is query naive?”

Why, yes it is. On the other hand, it seems pretty obvious from their snuff films that ISIS does lots of joyous celebrating after each beheading. But why rely on hearsay? “I suspect that you have the funds to visit Raqqa and come to your own conclusions,” Bob Owens tweets in reply. “I suspect you’ll come out a head.”

Words fail me. It really is true: it’s impossible to parody these people anymore.

Memory loss update! Y’know, if this keeps up I may have to rethink my indifference to Twitter.

On the night CNN aired a controversial and, as many legal critics call it, flawed documentary on sexual assault on college campuses, Democratic Party frontrunner Hillary Clinton tweeted solidarity with victims of sexual assault. The response could not have been what she was hoping for.

The link in her tweet went to a campaign webpage on sexual assault on campus that starts with a quote from a speech Hillary gave in September: “I want to send a message to every survivor of sexual assault: Don’t let anyone silence your voice. You have the right to be heard. You have the right to be believed, and we’re with you.”

Clinton’s original tweet…

Every survivor of sexual assault deserves to be heard, believed, and supported.— Hillary Clinton (@HillaryClinton) November 23, 2015

Guess what happened next. Go on, guess. I assure you, it’s hilarious.

(Via Glenn)


“Heroism” jumps the shark

I wasn’t going to post on this; it’s none of my business, it’s kind of sad and sick, and I really don’t give a damn anyway. But now, blast it, I gotta. My hand has been forced.

The Price of Caitlyn Jenner’s Heroism
A NEW goddess has emerged like Botticelli’s Venus rising from the sea. Caitlyn Jenner gazes out from Annie Leibovitz’s July Vanity Fair cover, bare save for a satin bodysuit. Her auburn curls tumble over alabaster shoulders. Can she really be the avatar of personal freedom and self-expression the media claims her to be?

Caitlyn Jenner’s transition is more than a private matter. It is a commercial spectacle on an enormous scale, revealing some disturbing truths about what we value and admire in women.

Inside the magazine, Ms. Jenner poses in skintight dresses, a cinched black lace corset and two different gold evening gowns — the kind of outfits favored by her voluptuous stepdaughter, Kim Kardashian. She lounges on a sofa, peers into mirrors or reclines with her head thrown back, eyes closed. In keeping with the classic iconography of female stardom, Ms. Jenner appears languid and glamorous, her body still and on display rather than performing any activity.

Ms. Jenner is 65 years old, but Caitlyn “codes” many decades younger. Her features are tiny and doll-like, her lips plumped, her skin lineless. Even her new chosen first name feels bizarrely girlish, conjuring more a college student, or maybe a sixth Kardashian sister, than a grandmother.

We have known for months that Bruce Jenner was becoming a woman, and we rejoice if this brings her happiness. But were we prepared for this woman?

“Caitlin” is many things–sad, wretched, pitiable, confused, pathetic–but a woman is definitely not one of them. I’ll let DC McAllister explain why:

Not every girl has such an embarrassing story, but each one remembers. They know what it’s like to grow up and become a woman, and those experiences are integral to shaping their feminine identity—and an identity that is rooted in their nature, in their genes, not in their fantasies. It’s something no transgender man can ever know. He might become an imitation of woman with artificial breasts and hormone injections, but he will never be a girl who became a woman—and that is all the difference in the world.

He’ll never know what it’s like to be a girl, to bravely face the realities, not the fantasies, of nature. He won’t know the joys, either. The comfort of a girl resting in her father’s strong arms. The sweetness a woman feels when her husband makes love to her and they create life together. The soft movements of a child as she or he grows inside her womb. The peace she feels as she feeds her baby at her breast, having given life and now sustaining it.

The celebration of Jenner “becoming a woman” is a fantasy. It’s artificial. It’s make-believe. It’s not authentic at all. It’s a mirage. Jenner has always fantasized that he’s a woman, dreaming of the possibilities of becoming what he imagines himself to be. But possibilities in life are only fantasies when they aren’t rooted in something real. You can’t become a woman without being a girl, complete with XX chromosomes that determine our sex. The man posing as a woman on the cover of Vanity Fair is a delusional mockery of every woman who knows what it’s like to be a girl with all the pains, humiliations, and joys of actually growing up and becoming a woman—and each one of us, in different ways, has faced it bravely through every stage.

As always, the argument Progressivist nitwits–and that’s who it is out there cheerleading poor Bruce Jenner’s “transformation” from a sad, damaged man into a sad, damaged man who calls himself a woman and has had his willie chopped off, or expects to eventually–are having isn’t with any person or political party; it’s with reality. More not on Jenner specifically (the article is from 2014) but covering the whole gruesome mess here:

This intensely felt sense of being transgendered constitutes a mental disorder in two respects. The first is that the idea of sex misalignment is simply mistaken—it does not correspond with physical reality. The second is that it can lead to grim psychological outcomes.

The transgendered suffer a disorder of “assumption” like those in other disorders familiar to psychiatrists. With the transgendered, the disordered assumption is that the individual differs from what seems given in nature—namely one’s maleness or femaleness. Other kinds of disordered assumptions are held by those who suffer from anorexia and bulimia nervosa, where the assumption that departs from physical reality is the belief by the dangerously thin that they are overweight.

You won’t hear it from those championing transgender equality, but controlled and follow-up studies reveal fundamental problems with this movement. When children who reported transgender feelings were tracked without medical or surgical treatment at both Vanderbilt University and London’s Portman Clinic, 70%-80% of them spontaneously lost those feelings. Some 25% did have persisting feelings; what differentiates those individuals remains to be discerned.
We at Johns Hopkins University—which in the 1960s was the first American medical center to venture into “sex-reassignment surgery”—launched a study in the 1970s comparing the outcomes of transgendered people who had the surgery with the outcomes of those who did not. Most of the surgically treated patients described themselves as “satisfied” by the results, but their subsequent psycho-social adjustments were no better than those who didn’t have the surgery. And so at Hopkins we stopped doing sex-reassignment surgery, since producing a “satisfied” but still troubled patient seemed an inadequate reason for surgically amputating normal organs.

It now appears that our long-ago decision was a wise one. A 2011 study at the Karolinska Institute in Sweden produced the most illuminating results yet regarding the transgendered, evidence that should give advocates pause. The long-term study—up to 30 years—followed 324 people who had sex-reassignment surgery. The study revealed that beginning about 10 years after having the surgery, the transgendered began to experience increasing mental difficulties. Most shockingly, their suicide mortality rose almost 20-fold above the comparable nontransgender population. This disturbing result has as yet no explanation but probably reflects the growing sense of isolation reported by the aging transgendered after surgery. The high suicide rate certainly challenges the surgery prescription.

I wouldn’t be in favor of legislatively limiting anyone’s right to surgically mutilate himself because of a mental disorder, necessarily; I AM, however, all in favor of not lauding such piteous souls to the high heavens as “heroes.”

If ever there was a more overused word in the English language, I’d have a hard time coming up with it. And now it’s being tossed at people who are not only sick but so narcissistic as to go to such hideous extremes in indulgence of their underlying pathology. The liberal experiment in taking easily understood words (such as, say, “liberal”) and forcing a redefinition of them until they come to signify the opposite of their traditional meaning in public discourse continues apace, I guess.

He’s a unicorn–a beautiful, beautiful unicorn update! Or a Centaur.

Americans of all stripes have showered accolades upon the new Ms. Jenner, all the way up to the White House. “It takes courage to share your story,” Barack Obama’s Organizing for America Twitter account declared; White House fixture Valerie Jarrett echoed this praise. Countless media outlets heralded Jenner’s “bravery”; others thanked his/her “life-affirming” public transformation. Many naïve souls praised Caitlyn’s beauty, which led, somewhat hilariously, to an immediate leftist backlash, with various commentators bemoaning “female objectification” and the oppressive reinforcement of white, upper-class beauty standards. There are certain squares in this cosmic bingo match, friends, where you can’t win.

One can view Caitlyn’s positive, wall-to-wall, quasi-obsessive cultural reception as a welcome sign—an indicator that most Americans, despite our nails-on-the-chalkboard, marathon culture wars, just want to be kind, supportive, and accepting. For most people, this is certainly true. Why should anyone care about someone else’s personal decisions? What difference does it make? These questions, however, are based on the assumption that “live and let live” is a two-way street. Unfortunately, for most hard-core transgender supporters, that’s just not the case: In their world, we all must agree. Because of this, many people are simply too scared to say what they really think.

Caitlyn, of course, is not really a woman. Mr. Jenner has not even shed his essential lower male infrastructure, let alone his pesky, clinging XY chromosomes. In this sense, he’s actually more of a proverbial Gender Centaur, or even a proverbial Gender Mullet, than anything else. This might be uncomfortable, but it is the truth. It certainly doesn’t lessen Jenner’s worth as a human being or as a child of God. Yet, strangely, if you calmly note this simple scientific fact, certain people will get very, very upset. 

They don’t like facts; all facts ever do is get in their way, and make them feel bad.


“I felt I had watched a very friendly stranger go to a party on the third floor of my family’s house, while my family was being held captive in the basement, desperate to escape”

Stop helping.

A few weeks ago, when I heard Conan O’Brien was in Havana to shoot an episode of Conan, my heart sank. I’ve always liked him but I’m allergic to the tourist gaze. My many trips to Cuba have taught me how damaging it is. The Cuban regime, like all dictatorships, depends heavily on propaganda and learning it would take center stage on a late night show filled me with dread. Conan promised that his goal in Cuba was to make people laugh, that he wouldn’t touch the complicated politics of the situation. Ay Conan, if it were only that easy.

You can’t go to Cuba and be apolitical. Traveling there is a political act alone. The brands he joked about at the grocery store were all companies that were appropriated by the Cuban government. That cigar factory he visited was taken from a Cuban family of cigar makers. Cubans cannot afford to eat at paladares because the average Cuban only makes $20 a month, creating an unofficial tourist apartheid where foreigners enjoy Cuba while Cubans endure the regime. The “ruins” that took Conan’s breath away are dilapidated buildings that thousands of people have to live in because they are not free to move out of them without government permission.

He was there to connect with the people. But he was only connecting with the people that work in tourism — which any Cuban will tell you are a small and distinct sector of the population. Even acknowledging that would have been nice, but instead Conan lamented that in a few years there will probably be American stores in colonial Havana. That’s when he lost me.

Why shouldn’t there be a Foot Locker or a Gap in Havana? If Paris can handle multiple Nike stores — I’m pretty sure Havana can too. The idea that commerce would ruin the “ruins” disregards the desperate need for things to change in Cuba. Why shouldn’t Cubans benefit from capitalism the same way Conan does without losing what makes them special? After all, every show clip I clicked on came with an embedded commercial. If Conan really loved the Cuban people as much as he seemed to, why wouldn’t he want the same opportunities for them that have given him such a wonderful platform?

Every good totalitarian knows you can’t have socialism without slaves. They’re necessary to properly service the nomenklatura and their useful idiots like Conan, Michael Moore, and a bazillion other disgraceful, willfully-ignorant schlubs, maintaining the privilege and profligacy of their masters while being carefully hidden from view as much as possible. That’s the reality of it, whether Hollywood-Left dilettantes choose to admit it or not.




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

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