Coooool

For the first time ever, I kinda wish I could be in Mordor on the Potomac.

WASHINGTON – Bad weather has postponed the flyover of dozens of vintage planes over the skies of the D.C. area Friday to celebrate the 75th anniversary of the end of World War II.

The flyover has been rescheduled for Saturday. More details are expected.

The flyover will incorporate and estimated 60 American, British, and Allied jets in honor of veterans, and to inspire young people.

Some of the historic aircraft expected to participate include the P-40 Warhawk, P-39 Airacobra, P-51 Mustang, P-47 Thunderbolt, F4U Corsair, B-25 Mitchell, B-17 Flying Fortress, B-29 Superfortress, and others.

Leftist “protesters” are also expected to gather on the Mall for a mass die-in, along with some light burning and looting, in protest of the murderous warmongering Amerikkkan fascist colonialist imperialism symbolized by the racist flyover.

Keep the faith, baby

Not crazy. NOT. No, really. I mean it.

The Death Of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg Pushed Me To Join The Satanic Temple

See? NOT crazy. Just a perfectly normal, sane reaction to the death of a sickly, feeble, 87 year old woman who had been battling cancer for years— a woman you never even met, no less.

I am a 40-something attorney and mother who lives in a quiet neighborhood with a yard and a garage full of scooters and soccer balls. I often walk with my children to get ice cream and spend weekends hiking through a national park. I am not the type of person who would normally consider becoming a Satanist, but these are not normal times.

And YOU are not a normal person.

Like so many other women in the United States, when I learned of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s passing, my first reaction was not grief but fear. I fear that American citizens are inching closer to living in a theocracy or dictatorship and that the checks meant to prevent this from happening are close to eroding beyond repair.

Those checks having been eroded by…let’s see now, which side is it that’s been hacking away at the Constitution, the Founders, and the idea of limited government since its inception, anyway? Remind me, if you would, I’m having trouble remembering.

When Justice Ginsburg died, I knew immediately that action was needed on a scale we have not seen before. Our democracy has become so fragile that the loss of one of the last guardians of common sense and decency in government less than two months before a pivotal election has put our civil and reproductive rights in danger like never before. 

Common sense. Decency. Government. One of these things is not like the other, dearie.

And, so, I have turned to Satanism.

Well, what the hell else were you supposed to do? I mean, really now, who WOULDN’T have?

Members of the Satanic Temple do not believe in the supernatural or superstition. In the same way that some Unitarians and some Jews do not believe in God, Satanic Temple members do not worship Satan and most are atheists. They are not affiliated in any way with the Church of Satan. Instead, the Satanic Temple uses the devil as a symbol of rebellion.

Just like other faiths,

Nice to see that little back-door acknowledgement of atheism as another “faith,” babe.

the Satanic Temple has a code that their members believe in deeply and use to guide their lives. These Seven Fundamental Tenets include that “one should strive to act with compassion and empathy toward all creatures in accordance with reason,” that “the struggle for justice is an ongoing and necessary pursuit that should prevail over laws and institutions,” and that “one’s body is inviolable, subject to one’s own will alone.”

Reading through the Seven Tenets, I was struck by how closely they aligned with the unwritten code I had used to try to guide my own life for several years. I realized, happily, that these were my people and that I had been a Satanist for several years without even knowing it.

Oh, I can one-hundred-percent assure you that Satanists are “your people” all right. In fact, for Leftists, they always have been.

In the hours after Justice Ginsburg’s death, I sat wondering what the future would hold for my daughters.

If they turn out like Mom, I’d say their future includes: nihilism; narcissicism; mindless, directionless hedonism; intellectual vapidity; dissatisfaction; an aimless, selfish existence bereft of real fulfillment, contentment, and enduring happiness.

Oh, and lots and lots and lots of abortions, denying you any grandchildren; your genetic line will end with them, for which the rest of us can only be thankful. Any cultural and intellectual influence you may have had will die with your daughters—washed away like footprints in the surf, your personal legacy wafted away like dandelion fluff on a stiff breeze. A tragedy for you, a boon for Mankind.

One more thing, since I’m tired of having to wade through the HuffPo muck and am not going to waste any more time on it. Given the incredible frustration, angst, and just plain misery even the possibility of losing an election creates for you people because of the grotesque, all-encompassing importance of politics it suggests, you Progtards might want to reconsider that old “the personal is political” slogan of yours, I’m thinking.

A gem of invective

As Wanda Jackson sang: he’s a mean mean man.

I don’t think most people realize how many random jerkoffs show up to scream at me anytime I post anything. Which is why I get all these other well-intentioned types going “tsk tsk, Larry Correia is SO RUDE on the internet. He should be nicer.”

Of course, if these people who chide me about my rudeness had to put up with my social media feed for 24 hours, they’d either be curled up the fetal position on their shower floor, weeping. Or they would lose their shit and go on a tri-state killing spree.

I don’t think some of you realize what it is like to be a little bit famous with the wrong politics, but here, let me try to help. Let’s say that you put up a post about anything from current events which is even sort of controversial.

When I do that, people start to share it to their pages, where various strangers see it, and are inevitably compelled to come back to my page to tell me how I’m a horrible person who should die. Then the morons come flooding in. An endless stream of idiots, barking, hooting, screaming, throwing their feces, and dragging their diseased anuses on my carpet. And all of them feel compelled to share their bullshit hot takes with me, a total stranger, in the mistaken belief that they’re going to browbeat me or shame me into silence.

Good luck with that!

I’m pretty sure there is a mathematical formula to this. Y number of shares, R is the rate of controversy, find for X, which is the number of vapid morons blundering onto my page.

Three days ago I put up that post refuting the meme about the RNC speakers. By the time it got shared a thousand times, off the top of my head I think that thread got me an insane healing power of crystals hippie, five morons calling me names who were so incoherent that I couldn’t actually tell what they were upset by, a couple Common Internet Shit Gibbons, a Socialist Lemming, some pseudo-intellectual gotcha attempts from people who aren’t smart enough to pick up dog turds in the park for a living, and one incredibly boring dope who babbled about his asinine philosophy on EVERYTHING for THREE DAYS STRAIGHT. By the end I was reading all his posts in the voice of Colin Robinson.

That was ONE POST. But not a single death threat, or anyone wishing for me to get cancer… So that was actually kind of nice. I had one last month, with 8,000 comments, where I ended up blocking over 100 people in 24 hours. That was nuts. Apparently, where all these people come from, blundering into a stranger’s living room and screaming in his face is a “conversation”. And if you don’t put up with their endless abuse, you’re obviously a bad person.

Awesome. I’ll be the bad guy.

And THEN he takes the gloves off.

More Depends, STAT!

Should she have to drop out of the race for any reason, I have a suggestion for who Kamala Harris’s replacement might be.



What with Biden pissing himself and now Nadler shitting himself, the Democrat-Incontinent Party appears to have its hands pants full. Reminds me of this deathless act of revenge:



If you’ve never seen it before, trust me: stick with it. Great scene, great movie.

Is that a tin cup I hear rattling?

Could I possibly pick a more inopportune time for a Fall Fundraiser? What with the on-purpose and with-malice-aforethought derailing of the Trump economic juggernaut via unnecessary lockdowns; widespread civil unrest and violence; open revolutionary maneuvering from the more treacherous of our two political parties, and such-like unprecedented national angst, mounting a successful fundraiser would seem to be an extremely dubious proposition at the very best. For anybody, much less me.

But needs must, alas. Among other calamitous modern problems currently dogging the Casa CF balance sheet, I have an automobile engine-swap that badly needs doing most ricky-tick, something I dasn’t tackle my own self—lacking as I do both the equipment and the upper-body strength to pull the job off without ending up squished flatter than a Joe Biden speech, a Ford 2.0-liter i4 cuddling snugly atop my chest and/or skull. I’ll have to hire the job done, to my eternal shame and disgrace as a proud, lifelong gearhead.

On the brighter side, I’ve been checking the local salvage yards, and there are a few compatible junkyard-mills to be had for as little as three hundred bucks. These motors all come with the reassurance and peace of mind that only an ironclad thirty-day guarantee can bring, so assumedly aren’t cursed with any of the same broken timing chains, bent valves, and maybe even holed piston-domes that combined to leave me stranded and forlorn on northbound I-85’s Brookshire off-ramp just over a month ago.

So yeah, we’ll just plunge on ahead with Ye Olde CF Blogge’s Fall Begathon nonetheless, and be damned to omens heralding the possibility of a lackluster outing. I didn’t do a Spring fundie the last two years, an event that had been more or less of a regular thing in years previous. So what the heck, this one’s actually overdue when you really think about it, right?

The PayPal “Support” link over there in the right sidebar awaits whatever alms y’all generous souls might be able to scrounge up and toss into the battered ol’ hat, even the most miserly of which will be very humbly appreciated by Ye Olde Blogge Hoste. I’ll leave this announcement up top for the remainder of the week, and hope for the best. Thanks, gang!

Update! Thanks to the generosity of you fine folks, which never fails to amaze and humble me, I now have adequate funds to cover the purchase of one (1) Ford 2.0-liter i4 mill—plus a good start on the installation tab as well, a cost I’m expecting to be just reedonkulous.

Might have an option up my sleeve there though, in the person of a bona-fide genius mechanic I know who’s reluctant, shall we say, but perhaps persuadable. Like my old boss Goose he’s so good it’s mind-blowing, but he’s also pretty burned out on wrench-wrangling, vastly preferring to operate the huge sawmill he designed and built using an old tractor as a powerplant. But if you can cajole him into tackling the job, he always does it for way, way less than anybody else would. Sometime I really need to do a post on him, I think. He’s a most interesting dude.

I’ll let this post loiter around up top through tomorrow, I reckon, and then let it quietly die the death. Many, many thanks to you all; this place wouldn’t exist without you. There’d be no real reason for it to, either.

Tragedy, or atrocity?

Just sickening.

Jake Gardner — awaiting arrest after a grand jury in Omaha indicted him last week — shot himself outside a medical clinic in suburban Portland, Oregon, two law enforcement officials told The World-Herald. Police in Hillsboro, Oregon, found the 38-year-old former Marine dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound about 12:20 p.m.

Gardner’s attorneys, Stu Dornan and Tom Monaghan, said Gardner shot himself on the day he had said he would surrender in connection with manslaughter and three other felony charges stemming from the May 30 confrontation that led to the death of 22-year-old James Scurlock.

Now, both men are dead. By the same hand.

Sunday, Dornan and Monaghan blamed Gardner’s apparent suicide on a cocktail of behavioral health problems stemming from head trauma he experienced during military service; the belief that people were out to kill him; and an “incessant rush to judgment” by social media jockeys.

Dornan said Douglas County Attorney Don Kleine — who defeated Dornan in 2006 to become county attorney — had made the right call in ruling Gardner’s actions justified. Gardner had claimed that Scurlock had him in a chokehold and wouldn’t let go, despite Gardner’s repeated pleas to “get off me.” At the end of the 18-second struggle, Gardner switched the gun to his left hand and fired over his shoulder, killing Scurlock.

Grand jurors, under the guidance of a special prosecutor, ruled out self-defense as a justification.

Bottom line, Dornan and Monaghan said, Gardner had lost his bars (a landlord ended his lease after the shooting), his home, his livelihood. And he was about to lose his freedom. Add in behavioral health concerns, Dornan said, and suicide was not a surprise, even though his attorneys fully expected him to turn himself in Sunday night. Monaghan said Gardner did not leave a suicide note.

“I had the opportunity to talk with Mr. Gardner before his return, and he was really shook up,” Dornan said. “The grand jury indictment was a shock to him, it was a shock to us, it was a shock to many people.”

As a monstrous abuse of any reasonable concept of justice, shocking would certainly be one way to describe it, yeah. I can think of others. And so can Ace.

The Omaha Man Who Shot a BLM Attacker in a Videotaped Open-and-Shut Case of Self-Defense Was Indicted to Appease the Mob.
That Man Has Now Committed Suicide.
Ace

BLM will attack you, and unless you allow yourself to be murdered or to have your head bashed in and left with brain damage, the agents of the state will then act as BLM’s enforcement officers and imprison you for defying the illegal demands of BLM.

It’s now legal to resist a police officer but it’s illegal to resist a BLM rioter and street thug?

Had enough yet?

We’ll find out soon enough, I guess. As Ace goes on to say, this poor Marine was pretty much murdered by the prosecutor on behalf of Burn Loot Murder. There damned sure ought to be a steep price paid for that, and I mean with a quickness, too. Otherwise, we’ll know that no, we apparently have NOT had enough just yet. And will be getting more of it, too.

Update! Herschel with the skinny on our New Rules.

War has been declared on you, your family, and your possessions.  You’ve seen enough instances like this to know how it’s going to go down.

You behave according to traditional Western and Biblical jurisprudence, and then the unthinkable happens…

This all happens if you use traditional TTPs to defend yourself and your family, even attempting to warn rioters with warning shots because you don’t really want to harm anyone, under the assumption that America is still a civilized and just society, not at war with itself.

Bottom line: in Amerika v2.0, if you’re white, you have NO right to defend yourself, under any circumstances whatsoever. Your one and only “right” is to passively submit to any and all abuse—verbal, physical, or Other—that your Approved Minority Group attacker may decide to deal out. Call it “reparational justice,” let’s say. Please don’t forget to humbly express profoundest gratitude to your “oppressed” tormenter for enlightening you, and for helping you to “evolve” into a far better person.

Via WRSA, who explains:

You now live in New Sarajevo.

Plan and execute accordingly.

I’m not entirely sure that there’s any comparison to be made that’s sufficient to do our current Kafka-esque situation justice at this point.

No time to go wobbly

HOT dog! A both-barrels Michael Anton blast at some unusually fat, juicy targets.

The instant Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s passing was announced, the battle lines were drawn. Or, more accurately, one side girded for battle, while Republicans clucked with confusion about what to do next.

Which should be no surprise. If Republicans are good at anything, it’s finding “principled” reasons to betray their constituents and contradict their much vaunted philosophy. President Trump, naturally, has sounded strong, as, to his credit, has Senator Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.). But the majority leader has to manage a fractious caucus and a thin margin. Many of his members either will be looking for excuses not to vote, or for a reason to vote no, or (worse) will be persuadable by sophistical arguments as to why stabbing their president, their voters, and their country in the back is “the right thing to do.”

The two most recent, and therefore currently binding, expressions of the will of the people were the elections of 2016 and 2018. The former produced a Republican president and reaffirmed Republican control of the Senate, in place since the election of 2010. The latter reaffirmed Republican control of the Senate yet again. The will of the people, therefore, as expressed through elections—the only legitimate basis for the exercise of political power in our constitutional system—is that conservative justices be elevated to the Supreme Court.

It wasn’t Republicans who nuked the filibuster for judicial nominees. Can you recall a single instance of Republicans treating a nominee as disgracefully as the Democrats treated Robert Bork, Clarence Thomas, or Brett Kavanaugh? I can’t. Yet they constantly and sanctimoniously insist that the process is sacrosanct while scolding Republicans to obey every past procedural and conventional nicety that the Democrats have already torched.

Republicans mostly go along obediently. The Democrats nearly always vote in lockstep against any Republican judicial nominee; Republicans routinely break ranks and vote for Democratic nominees. A phrase I’ve heard to describe this faux-magnanimity is “beautiful losers,” though there’s nothing beautiful about it.

Does anyone for a second think, were the shoe on the other foot, the Democrats would hesitate to confirm their pick? To ask is to laugh.

The call to respect “norms” rings hollow after four years of the Left, the leftist media, the courts, and the administrative state all breaking norms, to the point of threatening if they don’t get their way on this vacancy, even more systemic change: D.C. and Puerto Rico statehood (four more Democratic senators, forever), abolishing the Electoral College (New York, California, Chicago, and Philadelphia electing the president, forever), and packing the Supreme Court.

The Democrats know what political power is for: to enact your side’s agenda. They and their media allies successfully gaslight Republicans into fearing that exercising political power is “partisan” and therefore illegitimate—but only when Republicans do it. Democrats themselves have no hesitation.

Nor should they. The whole point of our democratic-republican system is for voters to elect people they perceive to be on their side, who favor their own approach to common problems, and who when given the opportunity then enact that agenda. That, in essence, is democracy. That is what Republican senators are there to do. Let them do it.

“Let,” hell. Hold their feet to the fire and MAKE them do it, by God. Vacillating, nervous-Nellie GOPe squishes have just been presented with one final opportunity to make good here, before a veritable horde of people walk away from their party forever in total disgust. Their Job-like patience exhausted by an unending train of slippery-slimery DC dissembling, ducking-and-diving and shucking-and-jiving betrayals, and forked-tongue tough talk, succeeded by absolutely nothing at all, those long-suffering GOPe constituencies have been gradually stripped of all faith that any hope remains for American politics ever being reformed or redeemed.

Lied to, cheated on, courted then spurned by a rogue’s gallery of surpassingly treacherous, untrustworthy swine with less personal integrity than a deer tick, those put-upon and fed-up folks are a powder keg of righteous, boiling anger, one which all ProPols ignore at their great peril. And trust me, the fuse is lit.

So you’d best square them shoulders, stand up on them hind legs like men and not curs, nut on up, and do the right thing here at long last. Because if you don’t turn the right way at this truly critical crossroads, in these truly dangerous times—well, there are other ways to be rid of you than voting. All of them much less pleasant ones. For you.

I don’t even have to say the words at this point, do I?

Select one, seat one, move on

An endorsement, from an unexpected source, for Trump and McConnell forging ahead to fulfill their mandate in accordance with the job description spelled out for them by the original instruction manual: the US Constitution.

When a similar scenario occurred four years ago, following the death of Antonin Scalia, the Republican-controlled Senate blocked Barack Obama’s nomination of Merrick Garland to the Supreme Court. It was a controversial move, and Ginsburg had something to say about it:  Ginsburg publicly called on the Senate to go through with the nomination.

“That’s their job,” she said in July 2016. “There’s nothing in the Constitution that says the President stops being President in his last year.”

“Eight is not a good number for a collegial body that sometimes disagrees,” Ginsburg said on the issue a few months later during an event at the Smithsonian Museum of American History in Washington.

“What we do is we automatically affirm the decision of the court below. No opinion is written, no reasons are given, and the affirmance has no precedential value,” Ginsburg explained. “It’s just as though we denied review.”

Sen. Ted Cruz (R-Texas) made the same argument Friday night, though he added that since the 2020 election results are expected to be contested, an eight-member Court poses a potential constitutional crisis.

“Democrats and Joe Biden have made clear they intend to challenge this election. They intend to fight the legitimacy of the election. As you know, Hillary Clinton has told Joe Biden ‘under no circumstances should you concede, you should challenge this election.’ And we cannot have Election Day come and go with a 4-4 Court,” Cruz told Sean Hannity on Friday. “A 4-4 Court that is equally divided cannot decide anything. And I think we risk a constitutional crisis if we do not have a nine-justice Supreme Court, particularly when there is such a risk of … a contested election.”

Contrary to all the self-serving but historically illiterate Lefty shrieking, Ogabe’s underhanded attempt to ram Garland through wasn’t undone by McConnell’s hypocritical skullduggery but by, oh, the trivial matter of around a solid century and a fucking half of Senate precedent, which Democrat-Socialists will never utter a word about until it can be used again for their own nefarious purposes. As per usual, they hew to no principle; they believe in nothing, not even their own vacant, blank-eyed nihilism. They insolently sneer at scruple and consistency. They restrict themselves to grabbing whatever tool is in easy reach to be used for their dirty work, then toss it aside until the day they need it again.

Of course, correct as Cruz is, said constitutional crisis is not an unintended consequence or unlooked-for side effect that just sort of accidentally cropped up for some bizarre reason, nor is it something being “risked” by anyone. It is the whole point—a fundamental part of the plan from the very git-go. RBG shuffling ingloriously off this mortal coil is no more than the most recent gossamer-thin justification for this ongoing program, and that’s all.

Let the Left continue right on with the permacoup, screaming and ranting the whole while; they’re going to anyway, regardless of what anyone else may or may not do, and have been explictly telling us so all along. If Real Americans seriously hope to fight back successfully, then it’s time and way past time for them to begin to take violent, anti-American Leftist revolutionaries and their pet Demonrat ProPol Swamp-scum at their word, take their “fighting words” seriously, and respond to these threats with all the gravity and severity such plainly-stated intentions demand. Because laughing them off and blithely dismissing their actions as the amusing antics of a passel of desperate clowns hasn’t really worked out all that well.

Happily, it looks like Trump intends to just keep blasting right thru their feebly-defended lines to wreak havoc in their wide-open and vulnerable rear areas. Y’know, so to speak.

On Saturday evening at a rally in Fayetteville, N.C., President Donald Trump announced that he would be naming a successor to the late Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg.

“I will be putting forth a nominee next week. It will be a woman,” the president declared. This will likely unleash speculation as to which candidate Trump will choose from his list of potential nominees.

Since Trump said he will choose a woman, that narrows down the names on his list of potential nominees. Twelve of the 44 names on Trump’s list are women. Of those twelve, 7th Circuit Court of Appeals Judge Amy Coney Barrett is considered the frontrunner.

When Trump was deliberating which nominee to choose when replacing Supreme Court Justice Anthony Kennedy, the president told confidants he had big plans for Barrett. “I’m saving her for Ginsburg,” he said, three sources told Axios’ Jonathan Swan last March.

Barrett would be an excellent choice. Not only is she a stellar judge and a pro-life Roman Catholic, but Barrett performed well under fire during her confirmation hearing in 2017. Sen. Dianne Feinstein (D-Calif.) notoriously said, “The dogma lives loudly within you,” suggesting something of a religious test for a federal judgeship.

Sen. Kamala Harris (D-Calif.), Democratic nominee Joe Biden’s running mate and a member of the Senate Judiciary Committee, has a history of attacking conservative Christians for their faith and she will likely vociferously attack Barrett in the confirmation hearings.

I can’t honestly claim to be any sort of maven on the procedural ins and outs and such, of course. But if at all possible, whoever is responsible for scheduling those hearings really should take one giant step torwards regaining a modicum of control over the things and rein in the conniving Dem-Soc monkeywrenchers with strictly-enforced limits on the time alotted for them, just for starters. Unyielding codes for dress and decorum ought also to be specified in writing, and enforced to the very last detail. Such close oversight ought not be necessary for serious, civilized adults, who are presumably capable of grasping the importance of not behaving like feral children while managing the nation’s affairs.

But alas, these are Democrat-Socialists we’re talking about here, who wouldn’t know propriety and decorum if they were run over, crippled, and left to die in a ditch by them. “Serious” and “civilized” are unknown concepts to them〈alien, unfamiliar, and not even minutely interesting. As for propriety, you might as well be speaking in Swahili for all they care. In fact, the very idea of propriety actually, actively angers them, seeing as how propriety, as well as the basic respect for others that undergirds it, aren’t for them the very keystones that uphold civilization itself, but rather archaic relics of patriarchal oppression. So can it really come as any big surprise that these juvenile delinquents, these vile ignorami, these cultural vandals, these purblind fools have wilfully warped and perverted the SC hearing process into a true national embarrassment, a grotesque obscenity insulting not only to the Founders and the institutions they so carefully crafted and bequeathed to us, but to every decent American as well?

No more. Just….NO. MORE. Enough is enough. No more Kavanaughs, no more Thomases, no more Borks—not now, not EVER. The grownups in the Congressional room must—MUST—bring any and all further Democrat-Socialist confirmation affrontery to an immediate halt, for real and for good, then get to work straightaway at restoring whatever dignity they may to the institutions that have been so recklessly and infuriatingly debased. Senate GOPers bear a duty most grave to firmly shut down the malignant polyps of America’s Enemies, Domestic Inc™ who have reduced the whole thing to such an anarchic, farcical freakshow. They must get on with it, starting yesterday.

Goblins in Hell

Like me, Z ain’t a fan.

After years of false promises, Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg has finally made the world a better place by exited from it. Her near-death experiences had reached a number where it was starting to look as if she was immortal. She was in the hospital more than the typical nurse, but somehow always managed to recover. It turns out that her deal with Old Scratch did have an expiry date and the world rejoices. They announced her death Friday night, but who knows when she really died.

As is custom when a Progressive goblin dies, the liberal media will carry on as if she was the most important person in history. They had already made movies about her that no one watched, so they will all be wearing black armbands this week. Whatever funeral services they have for her will be turned into another circus. Maybe in honor of George Floyd, peace be upon him, they will drop her corpse next to his. Then pilgrims can pay respects to both on the same trip.

Ginsberg was the example of everything that has gone wrong with America. Her tenure as a justice was defined by her doctrinaire screeds against ordered liberty. The only reason she was on the court was due to the unwritten rule that at least four justices must be Progressive fanatics, preferably Jewish ones. Her career on the lower court made clear that she would always follow orders from the Left. She did not write a single opinion that was not known in advance.

Of course, the issue in her final days was the fact that she was nothing more than an animated corpse, but she refused to retire. There was no way she was lucid enough and competent enough to perform her duty, but the system allows a justice to stay on until they take their last breath. In theory, Congress can remove them, but that never happens, so the judges can stick around until death. With Ginsberg, it did not matter as all of her opinions were written in advance for her.

If one were hoping to reform America in order to prevent what appears to be a bloody breakup, the first place to start is the court.

He goes on to prescribe another of those perfectly logical, simple, common-sense solutions that would almost certainly work quite well, and so doesn’t have the slightest chance of ever being considered seriously, much less implemented.

Crazy needle pegged

Jeez O Pete, really? I mean c’mon, guys, REALLY?!?

If there’s anything we should have learned from months of “mostly peaceful” Black Lives Matter street protests, statue toppling and online mobs seeking to silence anyone who dissents against leftist narratives about “racism,” it’s that no one, living or dead, is safe from the attentions of woke fascists. Even Ludwig van Beethoven.

Beethoven’s work is not only at the core of the standard repertory of classical music; some of his most popular works have also become part of popular culture, their melodies recognizable even to those who’ve never heard an orchestral concert.

For the last 200 years, Beethoven’s compositions have also been symbols of the struggle for freedom against tyranny. The “Ode to Joy” from the conclusion to his Ninth Symphony remains the definitive anthem of universal brotherhood. It is no coincidence that the opening notes of his Fifth Symphony — whose rhythmic pattern duplicates the Morse Code notation for the letter “V” as in “V for Victory” — were used by the BBC for broadcasts to occupied Europe during the Second World War.

But to woke critics, Beethoven’s music has taken on a new, darker meaning. To musicologist Nate Sloan and songwriter Charlie Harding, stars of the “Switched on Pop” podcast produced in association with the New York Philharmonic, the Fifth Symphony is a stand-in for everything they don’t like about classical music and Western culture. As far as they’re concerned, it’s time to cancel Ludwig.

Just hold onto your hats, folks, we haven’t gone completely around the bend yet.

Exactly 80 years after Beethoven’s death, in 1907, the British composer Samuel Coleridge-Taylor began speculating that Beethoven was black. Colderidge-Taylor was mixed race – with a white English mother and a Sierra Leonean father – and said that he couldn’t help noticing remarkable likenesses between his own facial features and images of Beethoven’s. Having recently returned from the segregated US, Coleridge-Taylor projected his experiences there onto the German composer. “If the greatest of all musicians were alive today, he would find it impossible to obtain hotel accommodation in certain American cities.”

His words would prove prophetic. During the 1960s, the mantra “Beethoven was black” became part of the struggle for civil rights. By then Coleridge-Taylor had been dead for 50 years and was all but forgotten, but as campaigner Stokely Carmichael raged against the deeply ingrained assumption that white European culture was inherently superior to black culture, the baton was passed. “Beethoven was as black as you and I,” he told a mainly black audience in Seattle, “but they don’t tell us that.” A few years earlier, Malcolm X had given voice to that same idea when he told an interviewer that Beethoven’s father had been “one of the blackamoors that hired themselves out in Europe as professional soldiers”.

“Beethoven was black” became a refrain chanted on a San Francisco soul music radio station and, in 1969, hit mass consciousness when Rolling Stone magazine ran a story headlined: “Beethoven was black and proud!” In 1988, two white students at Stanford University in California, following a heated discussion about music and race, defaced a poster of Beethoven, giving him crude stereotypical African American features, an act reported in the press as an act of racism.

Itchiness about Beethoven’s cultural dominance would continue to bring classical music out in occasional hives, and in 2007 Nadine Gordimer published a collection of short stories called Beethoven Was One-Sixteenth Black. But the issue of race laid largely dormant until this year – the 250th anniversary of his birth – when against the backdrop of Covid-19 becoming inextricably linked with the Black Lives Matter movement, echoes of Carmichael and X were voiced, coming from directions nobody expected.

Was Beethoven black?

Nope. He was just a damned ugly old sumbitch, that’s all. Glenn sticks the fork in, calls the whole thing done: “If you start with the presumption that pretty much all talk about race today is going to be dumb and self-indulgent, you also won’t go far wrong.

Game-changer

Walk a mile in my shoes.

A video from 2015 has gone viral, showing a black anti-police activist accepting an invitation from Maricopa County Sheriff’s Office in Arizona to participate in police use of force simulation training sessions to better understand the stresses and split-second decisions police officers are faced with on a daily basis.

Was Sheriff Joe Arpaio still in charge in Maricopa back then? Ah well, no matter. Onwards.

Reverend Jarrett Maupin, who organized #BlackLivesMatter protests following the officer-involved shooting in Ferguson, participated in three scenarios, each one followed by a discussion of when he sensed a threat and why he chose to draw his weapon.

In the first scenario, Maupin approached a suspect in a parking lot and was ‘shot’ almost instantly. In the second, the reverend approached two men fighting, and fired his weapon when one of the men charged him.

“I shot because he was in that zone,” Maupin explained to a police trainer. “I felt that was an imminent threat – I didn’t necessarily see him armed but he came clearly to do some harm to the officer – to my person.”

The man who Maupin shot at was unarmed.

In the third scenario, Maupin received a call about a possible burglary and was able to get the suspect to the ground, without any shots fired.

Maupin stated that the training scenarios changed his way of thinking, saying, “I didn’t understand how important compliance was… people need to comply with the orders of law enforcement officers, for their own safety.”

Somehow I missed this back in June when Hoft first posted it, but I’m glad to have finally run across it….via The People’s Cube, of all places.

Trump should be pushing hard for the implementation of this program in his second term, and provide any amount of federal money to support it too. In fact, it ought to be a mandatory course of instruction for every ghetto hood-rat arrested for crimes against either property or person, before bail is even set, all across America. If he did so, this country could possibly end up looking like a completely different place after only a few short years.

Of course you’re not going to change every mind with this program, nor will every Negro heart be liberated from the inchoate hatred and mistrust of da po-po instilled so meticulously by Proggy and his Pet Media. In fact, it may well be that it wouldn’t make much real difference at all in the end. But if it didn’t, well, so what? We can always give “midnight basketball” another try.

Shut ’em down, salt the earth

It appears that at least one federal agency is in open insurrection against legitimate elected authority. Guess which one.

Go on, guess.

At the beginning of September, the director of the Office of Management and Budget announced that, at President Trump’s direction, all federal agencies would be banned from imposing Critical Race Theory (CRT) on their employees.  This was the right thing to do.  CRT is pure racism.  While the KKK was obsessed with blacks and the Nazis were obsessed with Jews, CRT is obsessed with white people.  Teaching it at federal agencies is a shocking violation of the Constitution and the Civil Rights Act of 1964.  Despite its unconstitutionality and the president’s order, though, the CDC is planning to continue CRT training.

Christopher Rufo, who has become the point man for all of these stories about CRT training in the federal government, discovered what he aptly called a “BOMBSHELL.”  The CDC is going ahead with its plan — paid for with your money — to impose a thirteen-week-long CRT training program on its employees.

This an important story because it is a nexus of the issues that brought Trump into the White House in 2016.  It’s the story of an out-of-control federal agency that feels that no one — and certainly not the constitutional executive of the United States — has any authority over it.

Well, of course that’s true, and the way things ought to be anyhow. Who better understands what’s good for us hapless knaves and serfs than these exalted “experts”? I mean, just look at what a bang-up job they’ve done battling the Election Flu CRISIS!!!™ on our behalf, fechrissakes.

Update! Unrelated, you say? In a pig’s eye, sez I.

Dr. Anthony Fauci just spilled the beans: contrary to the implicit promise numerous politicians made that COVID-19 restrictions would only last “until there’s an effective vaccine,” Fauci says the arrival of a vaccine won’t mean life will return to normal, perhaps for more than a year.

“If you’re talking about getting back to a degree of normality which resembles where we were prior to COVID, it’s going to be well into 2021, maybe even towards the end of 2021,” said the director of National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases on Friday.

A safe and effective vaccine produced this quickly would be a stunning scientific accomplishment that could save thousands of lives. But Fauci warned that widespread distribution and getting “the majority, or more, of the population vaccinated and protected” won’t happen until perhaps the end 2021, and therefore means we cannot be free from oppressive lockdown measures until at least that point.

Dear “Dr” Falsie:

Don’t trust you, nor your minions, nor your entire Deep State bureaucracy. Under NO circumstances whatosever, then, will I be accepting a dose of your “vaccine.” Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. Go take a flying fuck at a plate glass window, the whole menagerie of you fascist rat bastards. That is all.

Yrs trly etc.

(Un)Holy CRAP!

What the hell, why not.

A transgender woman who describes herself as a ‘Satanic anarchist’ has won the Republican Party nomination for sheriff in a New Hampshire county after running on a platform of ‘F*** the police.’

‘I can’t imagine they’re happy about this,’ Aria DiMezzo told Inside Sources when asked about the reaction from Republicans.

DiMezzo captured the GOP nomination for Cheshire County sheriff on Tuesday night after she ran unopposed in the party primary.

She won despite the fact that she received no support from the county or state GOP.

DiMezzo will have an even more formidable task as she will face off against a four-term incumbent, the Democrat Eli Rivera.

The head of the Cheshire County Republican Party, Marylin Huston, misgendered DiMezzo by referring to her as ‘he’ when she offered congratulations.

“Misgendered”? In a pig’s eye. “She’s” a he, just another mentally-ill transvestite LARPing as something he ain’t. Looks like he might not be quite the Satanist he purports to be, either.

DiMezzo also identifies as a ‘high priestess’ of the Reformed Satanic Church, which describes itself as ‘an organization dedicated to the sovereignty of the individual, and to the principle of non-aggression.’

Unlike the Church of Satan, the Reformed Satanic Church doesn’t define itself as a religion.

‘We are an anti-religion,’ the organization’s website claims.

‘Religion is authoritarian; we reject all proclaimed authority as arbitrary and, at best, backed by threats of force and violence.

Not sure where a “high priestess” might fit into all that, and I don’t care enough to check and find out. But the title alone sounds somewhat, umm, authoritarian to me.

Yes, there are pictures, and dude looks exactly like you’d expect him to.

Playing God

At first I was intrigued. Then it seemed kinda creepy. Then it seemed downright alarming.

On the International Space Station, clusters of nerve cells called mini-brains are developing in ways that scientists didn’t previously think was possible.

The organoids were grown from stem cells at the University of California, San Diego lab of biologist Alysson Muotri, before being packed into a box and shipped to space, where Muotri told The New York Times they’re likely “replicating like crazy.” Now, his team has found that the organoids are giving off brain waves — complex patterns of neural activity — similar to those of premature babies. It’s a bizarre finding that could force scientists to revisit the limitations of lab-grown mini-organs and the ethical issues surrounding them.

Muotri hooked the mini-brains up to spider-shaped robots to read their neural activity, according to the NYT. The findings could be a sign that scientists are approaching the capability to generate at least partially-conscious life in the lab — a development that’s long been little more than a speculative horror story in the field.

“The closer we come to his goal, the more likely we will get a brain that is capable of sentience and of feeling pain, agony and distress,” Christof Koch, chief scientist and president of the Allen Brain Institute, told the NYT.

Greeeaaaat. Cause, y’know, there just isn’t nearly enough pain, agony, and distress going around these days already. Right, genius?

“There are some of my colleagues who say, ‘No, these things will never be conscious,’” Muotri told the NYT. “Now I’m not so sure.”

Oh, this is just BOUND to end well.

If these brain waves are a sign that organoids could be capable of consciousness, neuroscientists will need to grapple with a major ethical dilemma — as continued experimentation would potentially mean creating and destroying self-aware, human-like life. But we may not be there yet, cautioned University of Southern California biologist Giorgia Quadrato, who wasn’t involved in the new study.

“It’s pretty amazing. No one really knew if that was possible,” Quadrato told the NYT, before clarifying that it didn’t conclude that the mini-brains reached human levels of activity.

“People will say, ‘Ah, these are like the brains of preterm infants,’” she said. “No, they are not.”

Like you really, truly know that. Like you could EVER really know it for certain. Like you can predict where it will all lead in the end.

I’m by no means opposed to science and research, of course. And in research, a certain amount of risk is essential, a certain boldness a fundamental job qualification. But in this instance, I suspect these folks might be messing around with things that are probably best left alone.

Trump train rolling

Truly remarkable. Also: UNEXPECTED!™

The White House
Office of the Press Secretary
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
September 11, 2020
PRESIDENT DONALD J. TRUMP HAS BROKERED A HISTORIC DEAL BETWEEN ISRAEL AND THE KINGDOM OF BAHRAIN

“Now that the ice has been broken, I expect more Arab and Muslim countries will follow the United Arab Emirates’ lead.” – President Donald J. Trump

SECURING ANOTHER HISTORIC AGREEMENT: President Donald J. Trump has brokered a deal to establish full diplomatic relations between Bahrain and Israel – the second such agreement between Israel and an Arab nation in less than one month.

  • Israel and Bahrain have committed to begin the exchange of embassies and ambassadors, start direct flights between their countries, and launch cooperation initiatives across a broad range of sectors.
  • This peace deal is a significant step forward for both Israel and Bahrain.
  • 
 + It further enhances their security while creating opportunities for them to deepen their economic ties.


  • This deal comes on the heels of the historic normalization agreement between Israel and the United Arab Emirates.
  • 
 + The United Arab Emirates and Bahrain are the first Arab nations to normalize relations with Israel in more than 25 years.


  • The United States will continue to support the people of Bahrain as they work to counter terrorism and extremism, develop economically, and build new peaceful partnerships across the region.

WOW. An unqualified success, an unlooked-for leap forward, an undeniable boon for all mankind. Now tell me again all about how Trump has done nothing, achieved nothing, whydon’tcha.

During his first term, that would be.

Checking out, the hard way

Haven’t posted a Bee of late. But after possibly busting a couple of ribs laughing at this one, I gotta fix that.

UhaulWarRig.jpg


U-Haul Introduces Armored War Rigs For Californians Trying To Flee State’s Post-Apocalyptic Wasteland
CALIFORNIA—To help meet the demand of millions of people desperately trying to escape the dark, ravaged wasteland of California, U-Haul is introducing a new product in its moving van line-up: the War Rig. These weaponized, armored moving vehicles will ensure you and your belongings stay safe during the long and perilous journey out of the state.

“We knew it was time to introduce some more serious vehicles to our fleet,” said local U-Haul franchise owner Glax Destroyer, who manages 12 locations in Southern California. “We brought in the War Rig to supplement our completely depleted fleet of moving vans. With everyone leaving in droves, we don’t have much left. We’re pretty much salvaging old trucks from the junkyard and then adding armor plating and mounted weapons.”

Sources confirm that each War Rig will comfortably seat a traditionally-sized California family of one person. They boast a fuel economy of 6 miles per gallon of guzzoline, which the U-Haul location will provide.

“I live! I die! I live again!” cried one patriarch as he led his family through the desert and toward Arizona in one of the new U-Haul War Rigs. “Witness me!”

Mr. Destroyer encourages customers to come early to secure their rigs before his power goes out and everything bursts into flames. 

Kinda hate to just cop the whole danged thing entire like that, but without the image it just seemed…incomplete, somehow. After that, it was in for a penny, in for a pound, pretty much.

Misery loves company

THAT’S NOT FUNNY.

According to (Scott) Adams, the common thread between why so many people believe these claims to be true without any evidence (or even in the face of counterevidence) could be that they simply have no sense of humor.

Adams described a conversation he had on Twitter with an actress who said she believed the claims in Goldberg’s article because of the joke Trump made in 2015 about John McCain not being a war hero because he was “captured.”

“This is typical Trump, he is a dumb, hate-filled liar and misogynist!” Scott’s Twitter correspondent said.

“When I saw that I commented back [that] Trump told a Chris Rock joke about McCain because Chris Rock actually did that same joke before Trump did,” Adams replied. “And then I said, you literally want to overthrow the government because you don’t recognize a joke. That’s actually what happened, this is someone who wants to get rid of Trump at any cost in part because she doesn’t recognize a joke. So, I said maybe the problem’s on your end.”

She responded: “B.S. Circus with Trump’s trained Monkeys defending his stupidities. What’s wrong with you people? Who cares if Chris Rock made a joke?”

“See where this is going?” Scott asked, holding back a laugh. “She has now acknowledged that the president told a joke. She did not know until I explained it that it was a joke. So now she has to change her objection from being a horrible thing he said, to ‘Yeah, it was a joke but it was still horrible, and here’s why.'”

She responded: “A president must know better than to say something like that! There are better things to quote as president, how do you fall for this crap?”

“Now, she also said earlier that Trump had no sense of humor, therefore it couldn’t be a joke. To which I pointed out that he is the most successful stand-up comedian in the history of humanity. His rallies with gigantic audiences are literally stand-up comedy. He does it to entertain. He literally says funny things and his audience laughs. And they go because he will say funny things that will make them laugh. He’s literally the most successful stand-up comedian in the history of civilization if you look at the numbers of people who go in person,” Adams revealed. “You have to admit the reason the crowd is so big is because he brings entertainment and humor.”

The unhappier the joyless, juiceless Lefty prigs are, the better for the rest of us.

In the groove

So I’ve been jamming out in the car recently to a mix CD of some late 60s-early 70s classics I burned a while back—songs I loved as a kid, but had been sorta neglecting of late. And suddenly the responsibility—nay, the solemn, sacred duty—to share some of this good stuff with y’all weighed heavily upon me.



The above, of course, would be the legendary Buddy Miles, just doin’ his legendary Buddy Miles thang. In the unlikely event you don’t know of him, please allow Wikipedia to hip ya some.

George Allen “Buddy” Miles Jr. (September 5, 1947 – February 26, 2008), was an American rock drummer, vocalist, composer, and producer. He was a founding member of the Electric Flag (1967), a member of Jimi Hendrix’s Band of Gypsys (1969–1970), founder and leader of the Buddy Miles Express and later, the Buddy Miles Band. Miles also played and recorded with Carlos Santana and others. Additionally, he sang lead vocals on the critically and commercially acclaimed “California Raisins” claymation TV commercials and recorded two California Raisins R&B albums.

Yes, THOSE California Raisins. Of course, most people who DO know of Buddy will surely know of his stint as drummer for Hendrix’ Band Of Gypsies. Yes, THAT Band Of Gypsies. But then, who from that wondrous, magical era DIDN’T Buddy play with, anyway? That would probably make for a shorter list, one a hell of a lot less burdensome to tot up.

Miles played with a variety of rhythm and blues and soul acts as a teenager, including Ruby & the Romantics, the Delfonics, and Wilson Pickett. In 1964, at the age of 16, Miles met Jimi Hendrix at a show in Montreal, where both were performing as sidemen for other artists.

In 1967, Miles joined Hendrix in a jam session at the Malibu home of Stephen Stills. They also went on to play together again in 1968 in both Los Angeles and New York. In the same year, Miles moved to Chicago where he teamed with guitarist Mike Bloomfield and vocalist Nick Gravenites to form the Electric Flag, a blues/soul/rock band. In addition to playing drums, Miles sometimes sang lead vocals for the band, which made its live debut at the Monterey Pop Festival in mid-1967.

In early 1968, the band released A Long Time Comin’, its first album for Columbia. The Electric Flag’s second album, An American Music Band, followed late the same year. Shortly after that release, though, the group disbanded. In the same year, Hendrix used several guest artists, including Miles, during the recording of the album, Electric Ladyland. Miles played drums on one long jam that was eventually split into two album cuts, “Rainy Day, Dream Away” and “Still Raining, Still Dreaming”, with a different song, “1983… (A Merman I Should Turn to Be)”, edited in between.

At age 21, after the breakup of the Electric Flag, Miles put together a new band with Jim McCarty, who later became the guitarist for Cactus. This new group performed and recorded as the Buddy Miles Express. In 1969, Hendrix wrote a short poem as a liner note for Expressway To Your Skull, the first studio album recorded by the Buddy Miles Express. Hendrix went on to produce four of the tracks on the group’s follow-up album, Electric Church. The title of the latter LP was taken from Hendrix’s poem on the first.

In 1969 he appeared on British jazz guitarist John McLaughlin’s album Devotion.

Exressway To Your Skull might just be the greatest album title in all of history, I’m thinking.

And while we’re groovin’ to the classics here and all, allow me to bring forth another true great: Lee Michaels. Yes, THAT Lee Michaels.



Michaels, who I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned here before at least once, is another fascinating study. A generally-acknowledged keyboard virtuoso, he did most of his live shows accompanied only by a drummer—covering that complex, fluid bass line his own self via the pedals on the Hammond B3 he ran like a boss. This, whilst also ravaging the keyboards, and crooning his little heart out to boot.

For me, it’s that distinctive, passionate singing voice of his that really sets the hook in deep. Occasionally raspy and whiskey-raw, then a croon smooth as smoothest velvet; a banshee’s wail with a desperate, out-of-breath sob hot on its heels. He gulps and gasps along just behind the beat, like every good bluesman should.

The real bones and sinew of the singer’s art, though, is phrasing. Proper phrasing can cover a multitude of other sins, while clumsy phrasing can rubbish an otherwise skilled performance entirely. Michaels’ phrasing may sound somewhat haphazard, even confused and/or anarchic, to the uninitiated. But it’s actually note-perfect, rivaling that of even Sinatra in the way he makes the attentive listener WAAAAIIIIIT until he’s about to fall over anticipating that next crucial syllable.

The above tune has an interesting little history of its own (bold mine):

Lee Eugene Michaels (born Michael Olsen, November 24, 1945) is an American rock musician who sings and accompanies himself on organ, piano, or guitar. He is best known for his powerful soulful voice and his energetic virtuosity on the Hammond organ, peaking in 1971 with his Top 10 pop hit single, “Do You Know What I Mean”.

Michaels began his career with The Sentinals, a San Luis Obispo, California-based surf group that included drummer Johny Barbata (later of The Turtles, Jefferson Airplane and Jefferson Starship). Michaels joined Barbata in the Joel Scott Hill Trio, a group led by guitarist Joel Scott Hill. Michaels later moved to San Francisco, where he joined an early version of The Family Tree, a band led by Bob Segarini. In 1967, he signed a contract with A&M Records, releasing his debut album, Carnival of Life, later that year with David Potter on drums. As a session musician, he played with Jimi Hendrix, among others.

Michaels’ choice of the Hammond organ as his primary instrument was unusual for the time, as was his bare-bones stage and studio accompaniment: usually just a single drummer, most often a musician known as “Frosty,” real name Bartholomew Eugene Smith-Frost, who was a member of Sweathog, and whose bare handed technique was an inspiration for John Bonham, or with Joel Larson of The Grass Roots. This unorthodox approach attracted a following in San Francisco, and some critical notice. (Sounds Magazine, for one, reported of Michaels that he had been called “the ultimate power organist.”) But Michaels did not achieve real commercial success until the release of his fifth album.

That album, titled 5th and released in 1971, produced a surprise US Top 10 hit (#6 in the fall of 1971), “Do You Know What I Mean.” It was an autobiographical homage to the loss of a girlfriend. Michaels’s Top 40 follow-up, a cover version of the Motown standard, “Can I Get a Witness,” peaked at #39 on Christmas Day of 1971, eight years to the week after Marvin Gaye’s version peaked at #22Billboard ranked “Do You Know What I Mean” as the No. 19 song for 1971. Michaels recorded two more albums for A&M before signing a recording contract with Columbia Records in 1973. But his Columbia recordings failed to generate much interest, and Michaels had gone into semi-retirement from the music industry by the end of the decade.

“Do You Know What I Mean” always brings the salt tang of an ocean breeze to mind for me, and there’s a good reason for it. See, back in the day when Myrtle Beach was still a place worth visiting, they had the late, lamented Myrtle Beach Pavilion (now unforgiveably torn down for no good reason at all, damn their eyes) on the beach side of Ocean Blvd, with the Pavilion Amusement Park directly across the street from it. We vacay’ed at MYB every year without fail, whiling away a goodish chunk of my misspent youth in the Pavilion and its Amusement Park both.

And ‘long about 71 or 72, the Amusement Park installed a great ride yclept the Himalaya, which my brother, my cousin, and I loved all to pieces. We’d ride that thing over and over again, round and round and up and down, until we were literally nauseous from it. And one of the things that attracted the Younger Generation to it was the fact that, unlike many of the other, older rides, they played that summer’s rock and roll hits loud as thunder over the installed speakers, to our endless delight.

There are two songs I heard on the Himalaya that really rang my bell but good, and never did forget. One of them was, of course, “Do You Know What I Mean” by Lee Michaels. The other, funnily enough, was a ditty whose origins I strived long and hard to unearth, only years later finding out that it had been Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Sweet Hitch Hiker.”



Now in my defense, I was exclusively a hard-rock kid back then. I was all about Iron Butterfly, D-Purp, Black Sabbath, and such-like in those days, see, and didn’t really give too much of a rip one way or the other about CCR; they weren’t on my radar until much later, I confess. But I did love me some “Sweet Hitch Hiker.” It hit me right in the sweet spot, for whatever reason.

And I had not the vaguest clue who it might be performing it on vinyl. Nor, it seemed, could I find out, not for love nor money.

What’s most curious about the whole saga is that I went around asking absolutely everybody I came into contact with that summer—grown-ups, young ‘uns like me, teenagers, teachers, the mailman, everybody—if they had any idea whose damned song that was…and not ONE of them knew either. Or if they did, they weren’t saying. Hell, I even called the local radio station (Big WAYS, 610 AM on your dial) and asked about it, all to no avail. The vexing conundrum was finally resolved when I stumbled across the song in the track listing on back of the album cover, tucked into the stacks o’ wax for sale down at my uncle Gene’s drug store in Mt Holly a cpl-three years later.

Ahh, them were the days for sure.

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