Cold Fury

Harshing your mellow since 9/01

Ixnay on the Okeway

A most welcome declaration.

Dunkin’ Brand – which owns both Dunkin’ Donuts and Baskin Robbins – has taken a stand against politicizing their businesses, according to remarks made by senior executives during a panel at the 2019 International Trademark Association (INTA) meeting in Boston.

Attendees took to Twitter to praise the company for their commitment to remain politically neutral – and for the shot they took at their competitor Starbucks.

One attendee tweeted a quote from the vice president of brand stewardship Drayton Martin wherein the Dunkin’ executive says “we are not Starbucks, we aren’t political.”

Martin further specified politically provocative designs on cups was something Dunkin’ would not partake in: “We don’t want to engage you in political conversation, we want to get you in and out of our store in a matter of seconds.”

Such a shame that a company announcing that it intends to stick to its knitting without piously lecturing its customers on matters unrelated to the business it’s in comes across as such a refreshing departure from the norm. I hope they make a mint because of it. Screw Starbucks anyhow; all PC preachiness aside, their burnt-beans hellbrew tastes revolting. I never have understood how they managed to do so well peddling that nasty parody of coffee they fob off on the more gullible among us, especially in an age when there are so many vastly superior choices available.

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Go home

Rod Dreher says LOL get fucked, baby-killing carpetbaggers.

I’m so sorry. Really, just very sorry. Here entitled Yankees like the NYT’s Ginia Bellafante thought the American South existed to give Millennial Brooklynites a place to reproduce Park Slope, but more affordably, and now we’ve gone and ruined it for them with our deplorable social and religious views.

Okay, so right away you guys KNOW I ain’t gonna like tis bint’s twaddle much. Methinks an old-fashioned fisking might be in order here. Emphasis mine throughout.

“The New South’’ was a term conceived in the aftermath of the Civil War to suggest a set of aspirations of some southern elites who hoped to rebuild a backward and devastated place into a world better aligned with Northern urban values.

Oh, so THAT’S what it was, eh? Here I’d thought all these years it was something more comprehensible and less permanently damaging, like a plague of locusts or something. Too Biblical a reference to pass muster, probably.

Over the many decades, it has acquired various layers of nuance, but today it tends to call to mind a string of cities from Charlotte, N.C., to Austin, Tex., that have essentially been Brooklynized by way of a progressive social culture and a tweaked fidelity to some of the South’s more marketable traditions.

Uh huh. And eventually those cities will find they’ve been “Detroitized,” “Chicagoized,” and/or “San Franciscoized,” its residents stepping around humongous piles of human shit in the streets, dodging stray bullets on their way back to the exhorbitantly-priced 600-square-foot apartment they flatter outrageously by calling “home.”

Actually, you dope, Charlotte has been a very liberal city for as long as I’ve been alive—at least. Any recent Progressivist “Brooklynizing” was superfluous and unnecessary here. I can’t really speak for Austin, but I suspect it’s a similar story there. Not that it matters; as with any and every young Progressivist with absolutely no knowledge of or regard for the history of the places they choose to infest in their migratory meanderings, she just can’t help but pat herself on the back for the world of good she’s done for us inbred cretins, the improvements she’s so magnanimously making in our lives and surroundings. She seems completely unaware that these backwaters even existed before she flounced on in and plopped her sorry ass down in our midst.

How will these new abortion laws affect the redistribution of talent to places whose economies prosper from that talent? Under the current conditions, I wondered if women like Tess and her friends, many of whom moved from New York or Los Angeles, would have chosen to relocate to the Deep South. I asked some of them, and they told me that they were not sure.

One, Allison Gourlay, arrived in New Orleans a few years ago from a studio in Greenwich Village she could barely afford. At first she had a hard time finding work and questioned her decision.

“I was talking to a friend one day when I wasn’t sure and she said, ‘Stay, this place is about to blow up. It’s on the cusp of something big, can’t you feel it?’ This is cheesy, but I got goose bumps. New Orleans is really a place to establish work-life balance but I’m getting ready to start a family and it scares me,” she said.

Back to Dreher to handle that one:

She’s getting ready to start a family, but the possibility that the Louisiana legislature might make it harder for her to exterminate her unborn child makes her think about abandoning the city where things are otherwise pretty great for her?

Why not? Makes as much sense as any of the other nonsensical crap they spew. Myself, I encourage her to abandon, abandon away. Don’t waste a moment, honey, you might be too late. Better still, just don’t come down South in the first place. We’re all racist, homophobic, misogynist Neanderthals ’round here, you know: semi-retarded, Christian zealots to the marrow, implacably opposed to a Woman’s Right To Choose (to murder her baby for convenience’s sake), utterly hostile to Women’s Health Care (ie, unrestricted abortion) too. Every cliche you ever heard about us God-bothering knuckedraggers is one hundred percent true, I assure you. Be sure to tell all your hipster-douchebag friends, ‘kay?

“When you meet all these young people moving here who are so passionate and intelligent and changing the rules and making the city what it is, it is so inspiring. But it really worries me that it could no longer be that place.”

Yeah, how deeply awful it would be if our Southern cities were somehow transformed back into the peaceful, affordable, pleasant places they were before you goddamned urban-liberal transplants moved in and got busy turning them into the same kind of blighted Gomorrhian nightmare you left in ruins behind you.

“Making the city what it is”? It never once occurred to you that the city was already something long before you ever thought of moving there, and that maybe its long-time inhabitants liked it the way it was and had no wish to see their rules changed or their communities “Brooklynized,” did it? No, in your staggering arrogance, you and your fellow egotists arrive not to respectfully appreciate or assimilate but to wreck and radically alter, with neither permission nor invitation. Back once more to Dreher for the closing bitchslap:

I concede that it’s interesting to talk to progressive Northerners who moved South, thinking that the Grand March of Progress would inevitably make the benighted (but cheap) metropolises of Dixie into non-deplorable locales — but who are learning that they, in fact, live in the South.

What chaps my butt about the piece is the assumption by the author (and those she writes about) that the South ought to assimilate to the dominant progressive culture. The message of this piece is, If you Christianist troglodytes don’t let us progressives have our abortions, we’re not going to move there and contribute to your economies. 

I have an idea! All y’all could pack up your progressive colonialism ethic and go the hell back home.

I have friends who are pro-choice Southern liberals. I believe they’re wrong about that, but this is their home, and I’ve got no problem with them speaking their minds, and advocating for the kinds of laws they would like to see. But you’d better believe I have a big problem with these people who come down to take what’s good out of the South, but the moment Southerners — who are in general more socially conservative — express through their democratically elected legislators opinions that run counter to the sensibilities of Williamsburg, these people are thinking of leaving? Go. Just, go. 

DAMNED skippy. Go indeed; try y’all’s hand at fixing the nearly-uninhabitable rathole you fled, instead of colonizing us, whydon’tcha. Don’t let the door etc, y’heah?

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DAMN THAT TRUMP HE’S RUININ’ THE COUNTRY

A little good news.

Sears – which revolutionized retail not once, but twice – is now struggling to keep its doors open.

One of the most famous parts of the sad saga is what happened to the retailer’s iconic Craftsman line of tools and lawn and garden equipment. While my dad wasn’t much of a handyman himself (sorry, Dad) millions of families across America once filled their garages and workbenches with Craftsman products sold exclusively at their local Sears.

But as Sears struggled to compete in the changing retail landscape, it also sacrificed one of its most essential brands in the process. Craftsman production was sent overseas, and customers noticed a change in quality. Sears sales continued to decline.

Oh, did they ever. I myself watched in dismay as Craftsman went from a solid, cheaper alternative to the undisputed king of professional mechanic’s tools, SnapOn (worshipfully mentioned in this old post), to cranking out nothing but cheap, shoddy junk seemingly overnight. Nowadays, any time I walk through Lowes I always check out the pathetic excuses for tool chests stinking up the Craftsman aisle of the tool section: thin, flimsy steel cabinets; drawers with a clunky pull that stick and rattle; rough edges, haphazard machining—anybody who knows anything about tools can tell at a glance that Here Be Monsters. It’s depressing, is what it is, and just lately I’ve restricted myself to walking quickly past the squalid display shaking my head so as to avoid further needless suffering. But maybe the USS Cratfsman, after listing and taking on water for years, is about to be shored up and restored to something like its former glory.

In 2017, Sears did the unthinkable and sold Craftsman to Stanley Black & Decker.

As it turns out, the folks at Stanley Black & Decker have big plans for the brand, which includes restoring the production of Craftsman tools in the United States, according to CEO James Loree.

“We ended up simply buying the brand because the products had been left to de-volve over time to the point where they weren’t high quality, respectable products they once were,” Loree tells TheStreet. “They had migrated from made in America to virtually everything being made in China and Mexico. They were in sad shape.”

That’s about to change, Loree says. Stanley Black & Decker has redesigned just under 1,500 Craftsman tools, all with American production in mind:

“We have created as a result products that could be made in America at a cost similar to what they would have been if they had been imported from China. One of the strategies behind re-booting Craftsman is to revitalize the products and make as many [of] them in America as possible.”

About 40 percent of Craftsman products will be manufactured in the United States after the initial product relaunch, which is now underway and will heat up this fall at retailers like Lowe’s, Ace Hardware and Amazon (just in time for the holiday shopping season). The goal is for about 70 percent of Craftsman tools to be Made in America in the next few years, Loree adds.

Good on you folks, and I wish you all the luck in the world. Since I ain’t wrenching for a living anymore—although I do still check in at the shop a couple of times a week and try to assist a little when Goose needs some help—I haven’t had either the occasion or the spare cash to drop on tools, although there’s plenty of stuff I need. What hand tools and equipment I’ve bought over the past few years has all been Kobalt stuff, some of which is of surprisingly decent quality, if admittedly not up to the lofty SnapOn standard. Nonetheless, I’d dearly love to see these folks finally get Craftsman’s act tightened up again, and will be keeping an eye out to see if they can pull it off.

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SICK!

Looks like when Trump OUTRAGED!™ the goofball Left by saying Mexico wasn’t sending their “best and brightest” across our ersatz Southern “border,” he just might’ve been onto something.

An illegal alien convicted of raping a dog to death was released by the sanctuary state of Oregon after being sentenced to just 60 days in prison.

As Breitbart News reported, illegal alien Fidel Lopez, 52-years-old, was convicted last month and sentenced to 60 days in prison after raping his girlfriend’s small Lhasa Apso which led to the dog’s death. The judge in the case said he would have given the illegal alien more prison time but that 60 days is the maximum sentence allowed in Oregon.

Because of course it is.

Following his sentence, Lopez was immediately released because he had already served 60 days while waiting to stand trial. Despite his illegal alien status, Multnomah County, Oregon officials released Lopez back into the community.

The Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agency had requested that the illegal alien be turned over to them for deportation should he be released from prison. The sanctuary state officials ignored the ICE request and released the illegal alien into the public.

This subhuman fiend is now back in ICE custody, according to the article, and awaiting deportation. We’ll see how things shake out, I guess. But in any event, Portland will deserve whatever it gets from this guy. I’m kinda thinking if he gets hold of some barren Sanctuary Shitlib’s pwecious little child-substitute half-a-dog next time for an encore performance, at least that one particular weepy moron might begin to rethink a few things—if far too late to do her sweet little BooBoo any good. But I dunno, maybe not.

Of course, the Left’s feeble defense here will be that this is but one extreme case out of many millions. But that entirely misses the point, to wit: EVEN ONE IS TOO GODDAMNED MANY. This depraved fuck shouldn’t be here in the first place; he has no right whatsoever to be here, and should have been sent back long ago, with strict shoot-on-sight orders issued to the Border Patrol should he ever be caught attempting another criminal crossing. The nauseating freak of right ought to be Mexico’s problem, not ours. If Portlandia twits want to make him theirs, well, that’s on them, I guess. May they have joy of their foolish choice.

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Southern by the grace of God

Interesting reflection on Southern identity, from Z.

In reality, those types we get from popular culture are caricatures of old realities, more than anything based in present reality. In the major population centers in the modern South, you will be hard pressed to find the snaggle-toothed redneck or the courtly southern gentleman. Instead, it is mostly middle-class suburban people living better than most of the country. The quality of life in the modern South is much higher than most of the country, which is why so many are moving there.

Which, in turn, is why the quality of life here won’t be staying higher for long, as ever more damn-Yankee carpetbaggers flee the nest they’ve fouled to come here and foul mine, via the selfsame bonehead liberalism that ruined theirs.

All that said, the South is going to be on the cutting edge of identity politics, even if it struggles to forge a new identity. Georgia is 55% white, with a large black population spoiling for a chance to hold the whip hand over whites. Florida is 56% white with a swelling population of Caribbeans. Texas is already minority white and the flood of migrants is making it more so. It is in the South that white identity, regional identity and identity politics will be the defining issues in the very near future.

How this breaks out is hard to know. There are people with ideas about it, like the folks at Identity Dixie, with whom I did an interview recently. They are in many ways the New South, in that they are college educated, middle-class guys. As I like to put it, the new Southern man has a pickup truck, but it cost sixty grand, has leather seats and the bed has only ever seen his kid’s toys and his golf clubs. If it has a bumper sticker on it on, it is for parking at his office building or maybe his golf club.

It is hard to know where this goes. It is in the South where the homogenization and financialization of America is most obvious. Vast developments of identical houses, with Potemkin “town centers” populated by strangers from all over the earth, is just as much a part of the New South as anything else. If someone had moved away from the Charlotte area thirty years ago and returned for the first time today, they would be in a foreign country. Even NASCAR is different from the recent past.

He said a mouthful there. Actually, if someone had moved away from Charlotte even ten years ago he’d find himself bewildered. My brother says all the time that he often feels as if he’d gone to bed one night and then woke up the next morning to find himself on another planet. The entire landscape has changed, both physically and in terms of those who inhabit it.

For my money, Southern identity is being washed away in favor of a flavorless, dull homogeneity. In fact, it’s all but gone already. It’s pretty rare now to hear a good ol’ hayseed accent around here, unless you’re out in the remoter areas talking to what we used to call country-folk—like, say, Kannapolis, where my mom’s people hail from. Most now speak in a flat, generic dialect that offers no hint of the speaker’s regional roots. In my callow youth, that lazy-mouthed redneck drawl used to annoy me sometimes. Now, I find myself missing it.

Funny thing is, when I first moved to NYC back in the 90s people used to ask me all the time what part of England I was from. Then, I’d come home for a weekend to have folks upbraid me for talking like a Yankee. An indication of how bizarre and indecipherable my own patois is, maybe. My daughter speaks in a very crisp, clearly-enunciated way, with no trace of any kind of accent I can discern, most certainly not a Southern one. Her mom is from rural Ohio, and the young ‘un doesn’t really talk like her either. It’s…interesting, I reckon.

As goes the dialect, so goes the region. For better or worse, Southern culture is on the skids, its once-distinct identity eroded into boring sameness. Yes, the only true constant is change, which doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing. Sadly, as that bright Southern color gets sandblasted off, the culture subsumed into an increasingly-amorphous American blob, something precious is being lost forever. But hey, we’ll always have our memories, right?



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Worst. NazibigotHitler. EVER

So incompetent he can’t even get homophobic bigotry right.

Out of all the criticisms of Donald Trump, the one I’ve never understood is that he’s somehow anti-gay. The Trump/Pence ticket was supposed to have put up conversion-therapy camps all across America by now, right? Yet somehow it hasn’t happened. With all the legitimate reasons for a person to oppose Trump, they still keep making stuff up.

Pete Buttigieg has been capitalizing on this, depicting himself as some sort of victim. He wants you to think Trump is oppressing him. He just can’t seem to get Trump to play along.

Check out this clip from an interview Trump just gave to Steve Hilton, which will air on Fox News this Sunday night. Hilton asks what Trump thinks of Buttigieg’s marriage:

“I think it’s absolutely fine…I think it’s great. I think it’s something that perhaps some people will have a problem with. I have no problem with it whatsoever. I think it’s good.”

Is that not the right answer, libs?

Dude, of course not. No answer Trump gives will EVER be right.

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An inconvenient shooting

Not politically useful to the gun-grabbin’, goosesteppin’ Left.

School shootings are terrible events — except for the left where they represent opportunities, as in Rahm Emanuel’s “Never let a crisis go to waste” modus operandi.

CNN, for example, wasted no time in politicizing the latest school shooting in Highlands Ranch, Colorado.

After the shooting, other than some virtue signaling by the media, the story has left the front pages, as the narrative may be inconvenient for the leftist agenda. CNN and MSNBC have lived up to their reputation as “drive-by media” by quickly moving on. No interviews with David Hogg or other gun control fanatics. So, what are some of the inconvenient aspects to this story that the media would prefer to drive by without any discussion or analysis?

Oh, there are lots of them listed here, each and every one pushing precisely the wrong Progtard buttons, thereby guaranteeing the story’s speedy interment. In fact, this one was apparently deemed to be so potentially damaging to our Leftist lords and masters that Enemedia’s usual tacit agreement to quietly abandon further reporting wasn’t enough. The courts got involved, Soviet-style, to make sure those pesky facts STAY buried.

The case of two anti-Trump leftists, one of whom is transgender, who shot up a school in Denver last week has been placed under seal by a judge, banning the public from seeing it.

Devon Erickson, 18, and Alec McKinney, 16, opened fire on two classrooms at the Science, Technology, Engineering and Math (STEM) charter school in Highlands Ranch, Colorado, on May 7, killing one student and injuring eight others.

16-year-old Alec McKinney identifies as male but is biologically female, having been born Maya Elizabeth McKinney.

Following the shooting, it emerged that his accomplice Erickson had posted anti-Christian and anti-Trump messages on social media while praising former President Barack Obama.

It is now being reported that details of the case will remain secret to the public after it was sealed by a judge.

Via Komrade Bill, who adds: “As near as I can tell, it’s still up in the air whether the magenta-haired Easter-Worshiper hater was gay or not. If he was, that makes it even more imperative for the left to shove this one right down the memory hole.” I’m sure you meant “she” though, right Bill? Watch out with those unacceptable (if factual) pronouns there, buddy. That hate-crime shit can get you in all kindsa trouble.

So this is where we are in Amerika 2019, folks: a judge is suppressing information in a case that would ordinarily be receiving blanket, 24-7 Enemedia coverage nationwide, in close enough detail as to require the use of an electron microscope. I mean…just…wow. Since we’ve descended so far into propaganda wonderland, and myself having just deployed the obvious Soviet reference, it might be helpful for us to keep the old Soviet-era joke foremost in mind from here on out: there is no Pravda in Izvestia, and there is no Izvestia in Pravda.

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A wrong, righted

The first of many, it is to be hoped.

Only once before, 18 years ago, had I received a telephone call from an incumbent president of the United States, prior to Monday of last week, and I had not spoken to the current president since he took office. When my assistant said there was a call from the White House, I picked up, said “Hello” and started to ask if this was a prank, (suspecting my friends in the British tabloid media), but the caller spoke politely over me: “Please hold for the president,” and two seconds later probably the best known voice in the world said “Is that the great Lord Black?” I said “Mr. President, you do me great honor telephoning me.”

He could not have been more gracious and quickly got to his point, that he was granting me a full pardon, that would “Expunge the bad wrap you got.” He had followed the case closely and offered to come to give evidence at my trial in Chicago in 2007 on one of the counts that was later an acquittal. He said that there would be some controversy, “But you can handle that better than anyone.” I asked “Do you authorize me to say that your motivation is that it was an unjust verdict?” He checked with the White House counsel, Pat Cipollone, who was in the room, if this would be a problem legally, and was told and affirmed to me that I could say that was his motive and that he was reversing an unjust verdict. “We’ve known each other a long time, but that wasn’t any part of the reason. Nor was any of the supportive things you’ve said and written about me.” I suggested that he knew ”better than anyone” the antics of some U.S. prosecutors. (I had had Robert Mueller as director of the FBI, which we caught installing illegal bugging devices in our home in New York and in many falsehoods; James Comey as deputy attorney general, and Patrick Fitzgerald, now Comey’s counsel, as U.S. attorney in Chicago. They were all, as my distinguished caller on Monday has described Comey, “bad cops.”) We moved briefly on to generalities, greetings to wives, I thanked him for his call and again for the purpose of his call, and the conversation ended.

It was never anything but a confluence of unlucky events, the belligerence of several corporate governance charlatans, and grandstanding local and American judges, all fanned by an unusually frenzied international media showing exceptional interest in the case because I was a media owner. The rock-slide began in 2003 when it came to light that some payments from our American to our Canadian company and to certain executives, including me, though fully revealed in public filings, had not been fully authorized.

Of course, the damage was already done.

As the controversy continued, Local Toronto judges and the Ontario Securities Commission prevented us from running the company, where there was no accounting fraud, hard profitable assets, and $2 billion of shareholder equity, all of which was squandered in poor administration and greedily consumed by court-appointed or sanctioned lawyers and accountants and the relentless intrusions of regulators seeking headlines and not the shareholders’ interest.

The vaporization of two billion dollars of shareholder value affected tens of thousands of families in all parts of Canada and the United States. With aching slowness the case against me disintegrated. Of the 17 counts in 2005, four, including money-laundering and perjury, were abandoned. Nine others were acquittals by a prodigiously un-Solomonic jury, many of whom slept through the proceedings.

On May 7, 2012, I went directly from Miami Federal Prison to the airport and onto a chartered plane and returned to my home in Toronto after an absence of five years. It was seven years less a day after that that President Trump called me. I am now, at last, officially not guilty even in the conviction-mad United States. None of this would have been the subject of a criminal case in any other serious jurisdiction. It was for this fiction that I spent three years and two weeks in prisons and endured significant official persecution in Canada, and the great companies my associates and I built over more than thirty years were torn down, driven into bankruptcy and destroyed, while the trans-border corporate governance hypocrites stuffed a third of a billion dollars into their pockets in ill-gotten professional fees.

I did have the satisfaction of winning the greatest libel settlement in Canadian history ($5 million) from the egregious Richard Breeden, former chairman of the Securities and Exchange Commission, and the other authors of the infamous special committee report of 2004, which really poured gasoline on the fire and ignited the criminal charges. The American criminal justice system is frequently and largely evil; I was convicted for attempted obstruction of injustice. It was never anything but a smear job.

Three years in prison; a multi-billion dollar business destroyed, its who-even-knows-how-many employees thrown out of work; a rightfully-earned personal fortune zeroed out; years and years of hassle, humiliation, anxiety, and surreal, slow-mo destruction. Over a decade and a half of abuse while Grond crawled relentlessly on, shredding everything and everyone caught up in its ravenous maw into bloody pulp.

After having been so ruinously tormented—personally and professionally bled white—at its gratuitous instigation, I’d say Conrad Black is being entirely too generous when he says the American “justice” system is only “frequently and largely evil.” It is WHOLLY so—distorted, dysfunctional, and perverse through and through, incapable of rendering true justice except by accident or happenstance.

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Sex strike

Yeah, whatevs.

You think, “Nope, progressives can’t possibly be any dumber,” and then they proceed to reset the dumbness bar. The latest example is Alyssa Milano, who has publicly announced she’s not going to have sex anymore until people can once again kill babies without restraint. If that’s what counts as foreplay these days, count us conservatives out.

The 80s TV teen turned leftist Twitter twerp recently tweeted that “Our reproductive rights are being erased. Until women have legal control over our own bodies we just cannot risk pregnancy. JOIN ME by not having sex until we get bodily autonomy back. I’m calling for a #SexStrike. Pass it on.”

Let’s review. Alyssa Milano is not going to have sex unless and until you allow her to kill babies. I am unclear on what our reaction is supposed to be. Does she expect us to pull a 180 on pre-birth infanticide in order to keep the Alyssa Option open?

Liberals are already thoroughly confused (at best – a lot of them know that liberalism is nonsense but embrace it as a vehicle for their personal power), yet when they get going on the abortion issue they get exponentially worse. It’s a pretty simple question – is it okay to kill a human being who has not yet been born? I say “No,” you say “No,” and they say it’s practically mandatory.

It’s not exactly clear why they draw their hardest ideological line on abortion, but they do. Maybe they love to freak out us squares. Maybe they hate the idea of traditional motherhood. Maybe liberalism is just a hideous death cult that has substituted Margaret Sanger for Moloch.

Probably some of all three.

Consequence-free sex via abortion is just one of the weapons in the Left’s anti-family arsenal. Along with his excerpt from the above, Glenn furnishes this amusing graphic:

abstinence-600x403.jpg

Heh. When it comes to baby-murdering Hollywood ho’s, abstinence makes the heart grow fonder. But wait, it gets even worse.

Milano received support from fans and fellow actress Bette Midler joined her in also calling for a sex strike. “I hope the #womenofGeorgia stop having sex with men until these indignities are overturned,” Midler said.

Not that they know me from Adam or would give a shit if they did, but Midler and Milano don’t need to go on any strike as far as I’m concerned. I’d gladly go WAY the hell out of my way to avoid having sex with either one of ’em.

Update! Ouch.

If memory serves Bette Midler’s first hit was her version of “In the Mood”. Forty-five years later, she’s finally not in the mood.

And for that, we can all be thankful.

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Reparations bottom line

What it’s really all about.

Apart from the complexities of determining who might get reparations and who should pay, we never hear about the endgame. Are reparations supposed to resolve black America’s complaints? Or will black America simply turn up the demands, saying that $500B isn’t enough? How much would be enough? One hundred trillion dollars in doubloons? a googolplex of gold rands? all of America west of the Mississippi?

If that part ever gets sorted out, perhaps we could then talk about black behavior. There are the endless shootings and murders in the ghetto. There are the victims of “the knockout game” and muggings in the streets. There are the large groups of blacks who go into restaurants, eat a huge meal, and then strut out without paying, usually disrupting other diners and wreaking destruction on the way out.

It’s highly doubtful that reparations will ever be paid or that black behavior will ever be discussed at policy levels. It’s all about Democrats having a club to beat America over the head with, to keep decent America on the defensive, to keep Republicans in the corner where they don’t know how to respond. Republicans were innocent of imposing slavery or Jim Crow, both of which were as Democrat as the KKK.

Though facts don’t matter on the Left, knowing what’s actually going on helps decent people contain their exasperation at the farce. Democrats and their Deep State confederates use reparations, as they have used the phony Russia investigation, as a political battering ram. They don’t care about damage to America because they don’t care about America. They may well be the most repugnant people in America.

Oh, they surely are that. They have been for a good, long while now.

The author is a lot more nonchalant than I am, though, in his confidence that “reparations” will never come about. Its usefulness as a club for Democrat-Socialists to beat America over the head with is one thing. Its usefulness as yet another bureaucratic grift—a bottomless, eternal money-sink into which they can freely dip to buy voter loyalty, grow government, hire more bureaucrats, and further enrich and empower themselves—is quite another. They’re already feeling its powerful allure, which may well prove irresistible if they can figure out how to keep it from splashing back on them too badly. You can bet more than just a few of them are giving very serious consideration to the practical nuts and bolts of how they might ram it down American throats.

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No risk, no reward

Wilder on risk.

As I’ve observed you humans my fellow humans for the past few decades, I’ve discovered that Risk is poorly understood. Pop Wilder had fallen victim to what I’m now calling Wilder’s Rule of Risk: What he thought was safe, was risky. What he thought was risky, was safe. He ended up outliving his savings due to decisions that prioritized “safety” over even minimal risks. He built barriers to action over unreasonable and unlikely fears.

Life is like Tom Cruise. It’s short. Life is also like having sex with a Kardashian. Hairy and risky. But you have a choice. You can be afraid and live in fear. You can also live gallantly, and die nobly.

We want to live with certainty. We want to, especially when we’re young, and when we are old, avoid risk. But we can’t. The absence of risk is the absence of life. The thrill of the first kiss, the thrill of winning when you’ve bet it all on red, those are life. Life is struggle. Life is fighting. Life is also all about risk.

Step one of living gallantly and nobly? Don’t be afraid of risks that aren’t real.

I’ve taken one hell of a lot of risks over the years: some of them senseless, some of them unavoidable, some of them truly nuts, plenty of them for no fathomable reason at all other than just to take them. If I learned anything from it (and I ain’t saying I did), it’s that the most exhilarating experiences in life are usually the result of a risk run and successfully overcome.

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Uncle Peter, my smelling salts!

Can we run this woman for president?

Smoke, Drink and Eat What You Want, Norway’s Public Health Minister Says

Why…why…why…that’s OUTRAGEOUS! This is the NYT, so the photo caption you’d expect comes along with it to make sure nobody misses the point:

Sylvi Listhaug, a right-winger, was put in charge of public health after previously resigning as justice minister over comments she made about terrorism.

A “right-winger.” Well, naturally. Say, anybody remember the last time the words “left-winger” appeared in the Times? Anybody?

It was a most unusual message from a health official: People should be allowed to eat, drink and smoke as they see fit.

Norway’s new minister in charge of public health said this week that adults did not need government lectures about what to put in their bodies, but it sounded a bit like she was telling people to go ahead and indulge. Critics protested that her remarks were damaging, particularly coming from someone in her position.

“I think people should be allowed to smoke, drink and eat as much red meat as they like,” Sylvi Listhaug, the government’s minister for the elderly and public health, said in an interview posted on Monday on the website of NRK, Norway’s state broadcaster. “The government may provide information, but I think people in general know what is healthy and what is not.”

They surely do. And free people would be allowed to choose whether to indulge in personal habits, hobbies, and behaviors whether meddlesome government “experts” approve of them or not.

“I fear that this will set public health efforts back for decades, and that this will compromise the general understanding among Norwegians of the health consequences of tobacco and alcohol use,” Anne Lise Ryel, secretary general of Norway’s Cancer Society, said in a statement.

She called for public health to be removed from Ms. Listhaug’s portfolio, saying that “she seems to lack understanding of what public health really means and what her role as minister in that area should be.”

And YOU, Mzx Ryel, definitely lack understanding of what government’s proper role in this area should be.

Ms. Listhaug said that people who smoked felt like “pariahs” in Norway, and that she would not be the “moral police” in government. She echoed comments made by Austria’s far right, defending freedom of choice in opposing antismoking legislation.

The Freedom Party is part of the governing coalition in Austria, and its leader, Heinz-Christian Strache, the vice chancellor and minister for sport, is an avid smoker. The party last year blocked rules that would have banned smoking in restaurants, as it commonly is elsewhere in the European Union.

Pardon me for indulging my out-of-control, unhealthy habit of making bad word-play jokes and all, but: what a breath of fresh air this is. The bits I bolded are particularly refreshing.

“Where do we send these smokers in the end?” she asked. “Are they going to have to go into the woods or up on a mountaintop or down to the docks in order just to take a drag?”

Not a problem. Eventually, if the Busybody Left fascists have their way, there’ll be camps set up for that sort of thing.

Via Glenn, who adds: “Given the dreadful — and often deadly — record of government nutrition advice in my lifetime this is entirely sensible.” It is that—just plain old common sense, nothing more. How depressing it is that once commonly-held principles like government restraint and keeping one’s nose well out of other people’s business have come to seem so shocking and outlandish.

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KCR Machine Gun Shoot threatened

Another NYC libmedia outlet has found out about it.

Twice a year, firearm enthusiasts meet at the Knob Creek Gun Range in Bullitt County, Kentucky, for an event billed “the world’s largest machine-gun shoot.” Visitors can avail themselves of a wide variety of powerful weapons, including magazine-fed and belt-fed machine guns, automatic rifles from the 1930s, and more exotic artillery, like a full-size cannon.

Buying and using high-powered weaponry can be an expensive hobby: for example, an NFA Class III arm — the category under which machine guns fall — can go for $20,000 or more, says an attendee, who, like many at the event, prefers to remain anonymous. Those guns can put out more than 600 rounds per minute, at a cost of at least 20 cents a round. (Visitors who do not own such guns have the opportunity to rent and shoot at a separate range.) Steve Sumner, a member of the family that owns the range, claims that shooting machine guns is “the fastest way to turn money into noise.”

Yep, it is that. Unexpectedly, the article isn’t the usual frothy mess of gun-grabber hysteria, but a pretty straight recitation of the bare facts; it’s short on text, long on cool photos, and entirely devoid of “analysis,” thank goodness.

I myself got briefly quoted years ago in a much more in-depth story about the Shoot which ran in NYPress, a more or less Right-leaning Village Voice competitor now more or less defunct:

I hung out for a while with Mike Hendrix, a rock ‘n’ roller affiliated with a band called the Belmont Playboys. We talked about my stint writing for High Times, Amsterdam and Knob Creek. “These things are just fun,” he said, “and these people are great. You should come to the one in the spring. It’s a great place to meet women. The women here are really interesting.” He mentioned that he and his band are due here in Manhattan soon to play the Rodeo Bar, and we made a tentative date for some serious drinking.

I recall the author, one Alan Cabal, as being more or less a newbie shooter, but not really anti-gun at all. Alas, we never did hook up for any of that “serious drinking” for some reason. But he seemed a nice enough fella.

(Via MisHum)

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Madeleine wins big!

So my young ‘un had to write an essay a couple months back on “Why I’m the proudest kid in Gaston County.” At the time she complained to me that, and I quote, “I’m NOT the proudest kid in Gaston County. I don’t really like it here.” Which, y’know, out of the mouths of babes and all that. I nevertheless told her it wasn’t all THAT bad—when I was younger I could hardly wait to make my own escape, although I’m back in Gaston County now and damned glad and grateful to be too—and suggested some topics she might cover: the Schiele Museum, Daniel Stowe Botanical Gardens, Holy Angels hospital, and a few other outstanding local attractions.

Well, the essay won at school level and then citywide, and an awards banquet was held in Gastonia last night. Link to the video of Madeleine’s essay being read at the banquet, followed by her marching on up to receive the plaque while she absolutely beams with slightly puzzled joy, is here, for the interested parties among y’uns. Next, it’s on to Raleigh to be recognized by the NC Senate.

I mean, just…just…WOW. The essay, which I didn’t get a chance to read before it was turned in and only just saw, is quite well-written. I even get a mention in the thing my own personal self, which made me grin like a mule eating briars. Why yes, Daddy IS just bursting with pride right now. Why do you ask?

Update! It seems there’s a permissions problem preventing some folks from viewing the vid, probably on the ex-wife’s end. Apologies for that; I’ll check into it tomorrow.

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Christians Vs Churchians: what works, what doesn’t

If you preach it, they will come.

Stop accepting the Bible as true and admit Christianity has gotten it terribly wrong on homosexuality. This is the advice Rev. Oliver Thomas gives in a recent opinion article in USA Today for how the church can stop “hemorrhaging members” and see brighter days.

He warns that “the church is killing itself” because it has painted itself into a corner by actually believing what the Bible says. He contends that Christians should just admit that the Bible gets it wrong on so many important issues and that “reason and experience” should be our new guide, as if this is a new idea. He says the church is terribly wrong about sexuality, particularly homosexuality, and would do very well to wise up, lest it find itself reduced to a warehouse for cobwebs.

“Churches will continue hemorrhaging members and money at an alarming rate until we muster the courage to face the truth: We got it wrong on gays and lesbians,” he says.

We don’t have to wonder whether Thomas is correct. Not only is he wrong, but an impressive body of very strong data and experience demonstrates the precise opposite of what he claims is true.

Yes, many churches are hemorrhaging members, and have been since the early 1970s. But anyone who studies these things carefully will tell you this is happening almost exclusively in the more politically and theologically liberal mainline churches. These are the same churches that are doing exactly what Thomas calls for: rejecting the credibility and authority of Scripture.

This same research shows the churches he says must change or else are holding rock-solid steady in attendance. These are the more conservative congregations that unapologetically take the Bible at its word, including on homosexuality. His advice here is not just ill-advised, but the equivalent of telling any retailer that the way to growth is to stop being helpful to your customers and jack up your prices. Let’s see how true this is.

Research done jointly at Harvard and Indiana universities makes this clear, reporting that the number of adults attending liberalizing mainline churches has tanked precipitously from 35 percent of the American population in 1972 to 12 percent in 2016. This decline of the mainline churches began in the early 1960s when they started to question and officially change their positions on historic Christian basics like the deity of Christ, the existence of miracles, the reality of sin, and the atoning death of Jesus and His resurrection, as well as jettisoning biblical convictions about sex, gender, and abortion. People started running for the doors of these churches with every new compromise, and this exodus continues en masse today. It could hardly be worse if these pastors asked their parishioners to leave and never come back.

The Harvard/Indiana University research also shows that the churches that take the Bible as the reliable word of God are doing very well. Compromising on biblical truths was, and is, a devastating church-growth strategy. Holding fast to these truths and preaching them boldly is a very effective one. Let’s look at some real numbers from the folks at the Pew Research Center showing the same thing.

Pew’s “America’s Changing Landscape” explains that, between 2007 and 2014, mainline Protestant churches declined by 5 million adult members. This is hemorrhaging by any sober accounting. Churches in Pew’s “evangelical” category grew in absolute numbers by about 2 million between 2007 and 2014. Again, the exact opposite of what Thomas prescribes.

Since we all know liberalism poisons and ultimately destroys absolutely everything it is allowed to touch or influence, that’s no surprise—especially when we’re talking about an institution they hate as vehemently as they do Christianity. But here’s where things get interesting:

When same-sex-attracted Christians go to church, they are not choosing the pews of churches Thomas is calling us to become. Again, it’s just the opposite. Research conducted jointly at Columbia University and the University of California at Los Angeles by scholars who are not shy about supporting gay politics found that gay- and lesbian-identified people are 2.5 times more likely to attend churches that took a more conservative view on Christianity (including homosexuality) than the so-called “welcoming and affirming” congregations that celebrate it.

The authors of this study were paternalistically perplexed about why same-sex-attracted people would choose churches that they assumptively described as having a “hostile social environment to LGB individuals,” as if such people don’t know what’s good for them. Well, maybe same-sex-attracted individuals find such churches are indeed not hostile or hateful.

The assumption of bigotry and intolerance on the part of most if not all Christians is a core tenet of liberalism, irreducible and non-negotiable, which is pretty ironic in light of their present-day alliance of convenience with murderous Islam. The old mantra “love the sinner, hate the sin” was much more than just a slogan for the congregation of the small town church I grew up in, and I’m sure it’s probably the same in most others. It was an obligation for those sheltered folks, a standard to be lived up to. They might have been put off by homosexual behavior; they surely considered it immoral, a willful flouting of Biblical strictures against self-indulgence and morbid sins of the flesh. But the bottom-line truth is, in almost twenty years of every-Sunday-without-fail attendance and participation there, I can’t recall much in the way of either discussion of or interest in the whole issue. I damned sure never heard any “hatred” expressed over it.

Ironically, those rainbow flags you see flying outside some churches proudly announcing “We welcome all!” are not appealing to the very people they are intended to attract. It’s the churches that so many on the left mistakenly and irresponsibly accuse of “hating the gays” that are actually where many gay people find what they’re really looking for.

People seeking Christ are not looking for a scripture-denying church. They want the real thing, not in spite of it making real demands upon them and teaching the scriptures as they are, but very likely because of it.

Kinda surprising, that. A heck of a lot more thought-provoking stats and analysis to be found in the rest of the article, arriving here:

It’s finally time to stick a fork in the liberalizing project within Christianity that has been hard at work over the last 60 years or so. Hard numbers judge it a massive failure on every measure year after year.

If you know the Left and its established MO of infiltrating, corrupting, and perverting institutions until they’re brought fully into line with Leftist ideology, it’s pretty hard not to conclude that the “failure” was actually the real objective all along. Remember the unassailable truth of O’Sullivan’s Law: any organization or enterprise that is not expressly right wing will become left wing over time. You won’t find a better example of it than what’s been done to Christianity; its enfeeblement was accomplished in an incredibly short span of time relative to the fifteen hundred years in which it had flourished. The onset of the Church’s descent into fossilized irrelevance closely coincides with the Left’s ascension to dominance, which can reasonably be viewed as something more than mere happenstance.

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Truth, out

I dunno, would I be taking things a little too far by calling this unlooked-for first step towards honesty for Democrat-Socialists a “baby step”?

U.S.—After Alabama state representative John Rogers made horrific comments on abortion, the nation admitted it was actually sort of proud of Democrats for finally being honest about their position on abortion.

“You kill them now or you kill them later. You bring them in the world unwanted, unloved, you send them to the electric chair. So, you kill them now or you kill them later,” he had said, sparking outrage among those with consciences.

However, in the midst of the outrage, the nation took solace in the fact that at least liberals are being honest now.

“It’s actually kind of refreshing to hear this kind of honesty,” one man in Texas said as he watched the revolting video of Rogers’ comments. “At least they’re being upfront about how abortion is murder now. It’s a step in the right direction. Before, they’d pretend it was healthcare or women’s rights or something. It’s good to hear some truth from the left for once.”

Yep. Unexpected, too.

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Rejection rationale

Looks like HILLARY!™ ain’t the only one floating down De Nile.

Former President Barack Obama was unhappy with Hillary Clinton and her failed “soulless campaign” in 2016, saying he saw her loss as a “personal insult.”

The new details come from a recently released update to New York Times Chief White House Correspondent Peter Baker’s book Obama: The Call of History.

The new edition, which includes Obama’s reaction to the 2016 election, said Obama compared himself to Michael Corleone, the titular character of “The Godfather.” Obama thought he “almost got out” of office untouched, like a mob boss avoiding a hit job.

Obama found himself shocked by the election results, thinking before Nov. 8 there was “no way Americans would turn on him” and “[h]is legacy, he felt, was in safe hands.”

Your disastrous legacy is what it is, Jugears. You should worry more about NOT being forgotten, seems to me. Hopefully, your “legacy” will soon be getting way closer attention than you’ll wish, and fading quietly away into unheralded obscurity might come to look like a sweet, unreachable dream.

Update! Is De Nile actually a river of cheap gin?

Hillary Clinton’s defenders will never stop making excuses for why she lost in 2016: It was Matt Lauer! It was James Comey! It was men being sexist! It was women being sexist! It was voter suppression! It was Citizens United! It was fake news! It was WikiLeaks! It was Facebook! It was the Russians!

Today, a new excuse: It was Jon Stewart!

In the middle of last week, Huma Abedin must have bustled over to Hillary’s place with a lovingly bound copy of the latest in cutting-edge academic research, a report that says Jon Stewart’s retirement is ACKSHULLY the reason Donald Trump won. We’ll all be able to hear more about this in Frau Pantsuit’s next memoir, “7,573 Other Reasons I Lost That Totally Were Not My Fault, You Ungrateful Pissants.”

How long will it take academia and the pundit class to learn that dropped objects fall to earth, water is wet and Hillary Clinton’s biggest problem was Hillary Clinton? She’s a horrible politician, as corrupt as a medieval warlord and as cuddly as a leprotic armadillo.

As Dennis Miller puts it in his special “Fake News, Real Jokes,” “They could have passed out a big sheet of paper that had two boxes on it, one that said ‘Hillary’ and one that said ‘not Hillary,’ and I was gonna put my X in the ‘not-Hillary’ box, OK?”

She’s not just a horrible politician, she’s a horrible, vile person—a “nasty, nasty woman,” as Trump so handily put it. Via Surber, who quips: “…as if being too drunk to stand on 9/11 did not have anything to do with her 30-state stomping.” Not to mention all those other times she was caught on camera suffering from the blind staggers, too, and couldn’t stumble into the Drunkmobile without assistance from five burly security guards.

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Bust ’em up, shut it down

Laura Hollis presents an idea whose time has surely come.

As long as we’re contemplating changes to the way we elect the president, or to the number of justices on the U.S. Supreme Court, let’s not exclude the legislative branch from the party.

But I’m not proposing that we reform Congress. I’m arguing that we should abolish it.

At this point, why do we need it? We have plenty of independent agencies, statutes and regulations; we don’t need any more. We don’t need any more taxes. And as for confirmation of federal judges? Each state can send two state senators to do the job that the U.S. Senate has done. They surely could not behave worse than what we saw with the Amy Coney Barrett and Brett Kavanaugh confirmation hearings.

None of these megalomaniacs pays the slightest heed to the principle that Congress’ powers are limited. In 1791, Thomas Jefferson wrote, “To take a single step beyond the boundaries thus specially drawn around the powers of Congress, is to take possession of a boundless field of power, no longer susceptible of any definition.”

Congress has either ceded or overstepped its constitutional authority since long ago. Would we really be worse off without a federal legislature?

Congress is a dysfunctional, staggeringly corrupt shitpit filled to the rafters with arrogant, parasitic career politicians—a breed the Founders rightly abhorred. Almost all of them have failed by every measure to live up to the hopes of the voters who sent them there. They use their position to enrich themselves at the nation’s expense; their sworn oath to uphold the Constitution is blandly made mock of six days a week, and twice on Sundays. Shut the whole comedy act down, turn the building into a museum or something, and force the deer ticks and leeches infesting the place to go out and make themselves an honest living for once in their squandered lives.

I know Hollis is probably just kidding around here, but I ain’t. Well, mostly.

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The bane of liberalism

Unintended consequences, always catching the self-proclaimed Smartest People On Earth by surprise.

Tenants are fleeing a D.C. high rise as the city’s progressive housing policy has led to panhandling, marijuana smoking, and at least one overdose death in the past year.

Sedgewick Gardens is an historic landmark in a high-priced neighborhood in northwest Washington, D.C., the Washington Post reported. But in the past two years, it has also come to play home to a number of formerly homeless people, many of whom may not have been pushed into housing before exposure to treatment as part of the District’s “housing first” approach to policy.

The pushing of formerly homeless people into housing prior to access to drug treatment or psychological care is part of the “housing first” approach to homelessness assistance, which argues that housing is itself a kind of care, and so people should always be provided with housing as soon as possible.

The neighborhood itself is quite liberal—the Post notes that 95 percent of voters there opposed President Donald Trump in 2016—but the results of the move-in were what the Post describes as “a high-stakes social experiment that so far has left few of its subjects happy.”

That experiment has led to a tripling of police calls to the complex, rising to 121 in 2018 compared to 34 in 2016. Only five of the 2018 calls actually were eventually linked to a crime. But they also were prompted by other harrowing situations, including a man barricading himself in his apartment and threatening to shoot police with a shotgun if they intruded; and another man found to have died from using drugs laced with the deadly synthetic opioid fentanyl.

These two events are the most extreme examples of a general coarsening of the environment. Tenants have complained of panhandling in the halls, the smell of marijuana in the hallways, and feces on the landing of the stairwells.

It’s an all-too-familiar situation for me personally. When I lived in Atlanta, I was in a quite nice complex of historic industrial buildings newly renovated into apartments, the Fulton Cotton Mill Lofts—new enough that only my own building was finished, the other three were still under construction.

Alas, there was a catch: having been built in part with government money, it was required that half the aparments be set aside for Section 8 benefit recipients. In a nutshell, this meant that people shelling out a thousand bucks a month or more were forced to endure certain “amenities” such as garbage-strewn lobbies and parking lots; late-night confrontations with scary-looking thugs roaming the premises; loud, shrieking domestic disputes; aggressive panhandlers, and other examples of Diversity’s dubious benefits.

The only thing missing from all this was the feces. And who knows, they probably turned up too eventually, I was only there for two years.

Our lobby had a mailbox center in the middle of it, for which the management was gracious enough to provide convenient recycling tubs to toss the day’s pile of junk mail into. They posted up a flier above them requesting that residents NOT use the junk-mail bins to toss household and kitchen garbage bags into, with a reminder of the dumpsters located nearby. They even put a map on the fliers, if I remember right.

I’m sure you know how well THAT worked out. Immediately on entering the front door you were confronted with the eye-watering stench of rotting food, curdled milk, soiled diapers, half-full 40’s of Old English, cigarette butts, cat litter, and whatever other nastiness the Section 8 animals were disposing of that day. The junk-mail bins quicky filled, whereupon Section 8’ers would just toss their overflowing, nasty bags right onto the floor.

It wasn’t just inside the building, either. I was out on the parking lot one stifling summer afternoon to work on my girlfriend’s car—they don’t call it Hotlanta for nothing, folks. I crawled up under the car, dragging my tools along with me, and sort of inch-wormed my way to where I need to be. After a few minutes I noticed two things: an unknown object or objects jabbing painfully into my back, and a truly nauseating stench. I wriggled back out and took the look underneath that I should have thought of before getting under there, to find that I had been lying on a big pile of maggot-ridden, half-eaten fried chicken bones left to fester in the sun for who even knows how long.

It was a great big old pile of DISGUSTING, that’s what. Coincidentally, or probably not, a year or two I had an Uber rider leave a gift of rib bones in my back seat, wrapped in a greasy, BBQ sauce-smeared wad of paper napkins. The magnanimous gesture on the part of my middle-aged black female fare was left unbeknownst to me, until the end of the day when I went to clear any such debris out of the back seat. And I had had several subsequent passengers after her, too. God only knows what they might have thought about all that.

Pleaase note that I am NOT presenting those last two stories as some kind of “ohh, them niggers and their chicken and ribs and watermelons!” thing. Just noting that a mighty casual attitude on the part of so many of your standard lower-class Dindus towards not trashing his or her immediate surroundings may possibly not be entirely coincidental, that’s all. Could be—COULD be—there’s something bigger at work here.

Anyways, back to the Lofts. You always knew which apartment housed a Section 8’er or three (or thirty). You couldn’t miss ’em. They were the apartments with the unpleasant smell wafting through the short corridor outside the door; the rap “music” blasting out at ear-rupturing volume any and all hours of the day or night; the malt liquor bottles and gooey pizza boxes piled in ziggurats adjacent to the door; the sounds of violent altercations, furniture being rougly shoved around, or shattering glass. Now and then a resident passed out on the floor by the door, maybe, which door might or might not be left standing partially or fully open.

In sum, I have NO intention of ever subjecting myself to dwelling in any complex that also hosts Section 8 recipients if I can help it. Likewise, I am NOT in the least surprised to read about the sad denouement of inflicting such thoughtless slobs on a once-grand old property like the Sedgewick Gardens. The Libs In Charge of this ill-considered farce coulda asked me, I woulda been glad to tell ’em how things were gonna work out for’em in the end. Not that they would want to hear it, or profit from the knowledge they gained.

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Wrack and ruin and race

Did somebody mention barbarians just now? Why yes, I believe someone did.

In 1989, the Virginia Beach party animals called it Greek Week — one of dozens of such gatherings of black college fraternities and sororities up and down the East Coast over a several-year period. All leaving crime, trash, destruction, and excuses in their wake as they were run out of one town after another.

Today, local reporters are eager to minimize the violence from that time or attribute it to white racist police.

But back then, no one in Virginia Beach questioned whether 50,000 to 100,000 black people were creating incredible levels of mayhem by destroying 100 shops, fighting cops, and breaking the law.

They killed a horse. They threw a cinder block at its head.

Um. Well. Okay, then.

Reporters had trouble describing the epic racial violence and hostility that 40,000 black people brought to Virginia Beach in April of 2013. So let’s start here: Black College Beach Week was organized by black people, for black people, promoted by black people, on black radio stations, at black colleges.

They sent buses to pick up members of black fraternities and sororities. And they brought them all to Virginia Beach. And they raised holy, violent, unapologetic, race-conscious hell.

On Fox43 news, a black woman said mayhem and lawlessness at Black Beach Week is nothing to worry about. “I think it’s still fun,” said Kharizma Jackson. “It happens when you get a lot of people together this stuff happens everywhere you go. It’s like that.”

Well, a lot of SOME people, actually. Best not to talk about that, right? Otherwise, one of those “national conversations” the Left is so enamored of might ensue, with all the accompanying risk of a little truth coming out. But as Virginian-Pilot reporter Mark Morrell said, it doesn’t matter; there’s really no need.

PSA: There were no persons of any other race on the videos perpetrating those crimes. None. Not stealing the bikes, or starting the brawls, or any other illegal, crazy action. Have I mentioned any race at all? Nope!!! Because you know exactly what I’m talking about, I most certainly don’t have to. You can identify me all you want, I’m not scared, and I don’t hide behind my screen — or my newspaper. There is an elephant in the room, Pilot. WHATCHAGONNADOOOOO ABOUT IT???

There is some good news here, and it’s at the beginning of the piece. Lest anyone think that the the Va Beach chaos is in any away unique, or an outlier, I will first commend your attention to the requiem I wrote for the end of the annual Myrtle Beach Spring Rally, reachable via the Leatherballs link up top. MYB was one of the longest-running rallies in the country, until it was stopped. I went every single year myself, and loved it. Never failed to have a good time there, each and every year, for well over a decade.

With my Outlaw Biker article, I had committed my first, last, and only act of true journalism: I interviewed people, reported the facts as they were laid out for me, and tried to look at both the impact of the events and where they might lead in the future. The thing is, though, there’s a story behind the story that was given to me, and then presented. I didn’t find this out until much later, and there’s a reason for that.

See, for all those years the MYB Rally had been a gathering mainly of what most would probably think of as old-school biker types: burly, long-haired, tattooed, leather-clad Harley riders. Lots of MC’s were represented, from true One Percenter clubs and their affiliates to the Blue Knights, although patches were generally not flown in the interest of keeping the peace. The thing happened in early to mid May, and the official Rally itself was run by the NC and SC branches of the HD Dealers Association.

The Rally was relatively sparsely attended; I myself only ever went out to it once or twice. Most of us were there for the riding, the bars, the bands, the asphalt flat track races at Myrtle Beach Speedway, and the general atmosphere of raucous, rollicking good fellowship. Oh, and to gawk at all the other Harleys. And the girls, most definitely to include the bare tits that can be found at any biker event.

The week after the H-D event was always known as Black Bike Week. For this one, a somewhat different and darker atmosphere prevailed. The problems at Black Bike Week were legendary. Shoplifting, out of control near-riots, assaults, stabbings, and even murders, discourtesy and outright belligerence, dine-and-dash incidents—all of these things saw a rise during BBW for which the descriptor “stratospheric” is wholly inadequate. Waitresses, bartenders, and retail staff put in for vacation en masse that week; if they couldn’t finagle the time off, they called in sick. Many establishments made it their practice to just shut down for the week every year.

The Myrtle Beach town officials and influential businesspeople eventually decided enough was enough, and started discussing ways to shut the thing down. One problem was noted right off the bat, and, as Morrell said above, you already know what it was. No way could Myrtle Beach put an end to the wantonly destructive, costly, and downright dangerous catastrophe for the area that BBW had become while allowing the H-D event to continue. Nobody needed a crystal ball to see the howls of outrage over “racism,” the national bad press, and the lawsuits coming.

So the decision was made to avoid all the controversy by killing them both off. This didn’t work out too well for the city of Myrtle Beach. The H-D Rally and its accompanying events just relocated to the surrounding beach towns like Ocean Drive, Cherry Grove, and Murrell’s Inlet—and so did the spike in revenues they generated. Attendance fell off at first, but gradually bikerdom got the word and the numbers came back up; oddly, the name didn’t even change. Even Black Bike Week is still going strong up in the town of Atlantic Beach just north of Myrtle, which back in the days of segregation was traditionally the place where blacks went for their beach vacations.

I don’t know if the accompanying anarchy, disorder, and lawlessness are still prominent features of BBW as well. But I bet I could make a pretty good guess.

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Prisoner of our own barbarians

Civilization versus the brats spoiled by its successful advance.

It is by now a familiar cliché, long propagated by Western thinkers and the media, that Europe and European culture are responsible for a multitude of ills. Europeans have been raised to detest themselves, certain that they have inflicted evil for which they must relentlessly atone. This evil is known by two terms: colonialism and imperialism, both driven by capitalism. Nothing today is more European than this self-hatred, this passion for cursing and lacerating ourselves. Yet, by issuing their anathemas, the high priests of defamation only signal their membership in the universe they reject. How can we fail to see that we take a strange pride in being the worst? Self-denigration is all too clearly a form of indirect self-glorification. Evil comes only from us; others are always motivated by sympathy, goodwill, and candor. Such is the paternalism of the guilty conscience: seeing ourselves as the kings of infamy is still a way of staying on the crest of history. Europe remains messianic in a minor mode, campaigning for its own weakness. Barbarism is the European’s great pride; he denies that others are ever barbarous, always finding attenuating circumstances for them, which also denies them all responsibility.

The terrible presumption of the cry “we are civilized” too often meant, earlier in European history, that “we are superior to you.”

Terrible presumption? I’d argue that it happens to be the simple truth, actually. Which does NOT amount to a license to exterminatye inferior, more barbaric cultures, or otherwise victimize or denigrate them. Being fallible and human, though, probably makes such victimization pretty much inevitable.

It also happens that the bourgeois, in turn, can transform himself into a barbarian under the pretext of defending civilization, as when torture is sanctioned in the fight against terrorism. When that happens, there is a grave danger of adopting the enemy’s ways of seeing and doing, the better to defeat him; of setting up a system of generalized surveillance of citizens on the pretext of protecting them; of weakening the marvelous edifice constructed by the founders of the open society. “When fighting a monster, beware of becoming a monster yourself,” warned Nietzsche.

This is an oversimplification. Often, when fighting monsters, the pursuit of victory requires turning their own monstrous methods—their own inhumanity—against them. But I believe it’s possible to make use of those methods without succumbing to them—to recognize the necessity, while careful to maintain the proper abhorrence for them. Thus:

The civilized man must constantly look barbarism in the face, to remember where he comes from, what he has escaped—and what he could become again.

Even more importantly, to see that he does not allow civilization to be overrun by barbarism.

Two dreams confront each other in our Western democracies. One, European, wants to eradicate human malice solely by means of dialogue, tolerance, and constant reminders of past horrors. The other, American, wants to put the darker powers of human nature in the service of social perfectibility—a creative barbarism, analogous to Greek catharsis. An angelism of niceness on the one hand; the channeling and sublimation of violence, on the other. Such is our predicament. We are urged to defend the law, civilization, and decency against savagery, while knowing perfectly well that we need savagery to awaken us. We want to defeat the barbarian and also preserve him, so as to preserve the energy he instills in us. He is both detestable and desirable.

Such irresolvable paradoxes are a part of life on this planet, natural and inescapable. They can be examined; they can be analyzed. Their terms can maybe even be adjusted somewhat—their effects mitigated, their iron grip on us loosened slightly. But they can never be made to just go away, as hubristic, foolish Proggie seems to believe.

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Erasing history

And “conversations” that…aren’t.

A few days ago, Kamala Harris, a.k.a. the background dancer who screwed her way to lead singer, was asked by Don Lemon if she supported Sanders’ plan to allow murderers and rapists to retain their voting rights while in prison. “I think we should have that conversation,” said the former “prosecutor.” When I saw the clip, I honestly didn’t mind the evasive nature of her answer. Politicians are evasive by nature; it comes with the job. What pissed me off was the idea that leftists ever engage in a “conversation.” When do leftists ever engage in “conversations”? They adopt a position (often a complete reversal of a previous one), and then they declare the old position to be “hate speech” and those who espouse it “hate criminals.” Where was the “conversation” on trannies in the girls’ bathroom? Where was the “conversation” on there being 1,745 genders instead of two? I don’t recall having those “conversations,” do you? One day, leftists decided that “this is the new truth,” and suddenly people like me get banned from social media for stating the scientific fact that a man can’t wish himself into being a biological woman.

Where was the “conversation” on immigration? I just remember going to bed one night when top Democrats were in favor of strong border control, and waking up the next morning to find that desiring strong border control makes you a Nazi.

If there was a “conversation,” I don’t remember it.

Affirmative action? Forced busing? Court ordered…no “conversation.” And if Democrats, who view voting rights for imprisoned murderers as a race issue (because of the disproportionately high number of blacks and Latinos who’d be affected), decide tomorrow to uniformly support that policy, overnight anyone who opposes it will immediately become Hitler.

Did any Western European leaders have a “conversation” with their constituents about flooding the continent with nonindigenous immigrants? When exactly was that referendum? At least with Brexit, there was a conversation, but has the popular consensus—the result of that conversation—been respected? Of course not.

Leftists don’t “converse.” They impose. And to do this, it often becomes necessary to erase history, ancient and recent. This is done not only to cow the current generation, but to brainwash the next. “Why, Notre Dame always had a minaret! Hell, the building was constructed by Muslims, who were always the majority in France! Just as England was always nonwhite.”

Future Europeans will learn little of old Christendom, but you can be damn sure they’ll know all about Auschwitz. In thirty years, every schoolkid in the West will know about the fifty Muslims killed in New Zealand in March 2019, and none will know of the hundreds of Christians killed in Sri Lanka a month later.

Controlling what we forget and what we remember, what we are encouraged to defile and what we are ordered to hold sacred (like Harlitz-Kern’s holy kazoo), is how you make sure there isn’t a conversation. Leftists understand this better than anyone.

If Stalin taught these bastards anything, it’s that the airbrush is mightier than the memory.

Oh, I think it’s safe to say that Stalin taught them pretty much everything they know. But while we’re talking about erasing history…no. Just…NO. Not just no—HELL NO.

The lawyers and CPAs who run Elvis Presley Enterprises have been threatening the city of Memphis for the past two years with plans to dismantle Graceland—the most hallowed redneck house in the world—and move it to another continent.

They mean this quite literally. They have offers on the table, they say, to bring in redneck historians and lovingly peel up the green shag carpet from the Jungle Room—where Elvis’ last two albums were recorded despite the rushing background noise of the waterfall that spurts out of one wall—and then move all the lacquered wood furniture in the shape of tree stumps to someplace like Dubai, where real estate entrepreneurs like to collect items of Americana and turn them into pop culture museums. It would be sort of like displaying objects from the Titanic if the Titanic had been intentionally sunk in Southampton harbor and then sold off for scrap.

Elvis was from Tupelo, Mississippi, 100 miles to the southeast of Graceland, but he would have been immersed in the African-American music that emerged from the Baptist churches and blues honky-tonks ranged up and down the Mississippi River between St. Louis and New Orleans. Dewey Phillips broadcast that music on Red, Hot and Blue, sometimes even highlighting actual church choirs, but in Memphis the blues and gospel music of black folk ran smack-dab up against all that clog dancing and fiddling that came down through the Appalachian Valley from Scotland, Ulster, and Cumberland. As all Elvis aficionados know, the King was criticized early in his career for singing like a black man, and the term “rock and roll” itself comes straight up out of the slave-based Delta rice fields.

Elvis may not have been black, but his musical DNA was as mixed-race as Alexander Hamilton. Memphis was the place where original black music met original white music. That’s what makes it American, that’s what makes Memphis the Santiago de Compostela of rock and roll, and that’s why you can move Graceland to Nairobi or Edinburgh but you’ll only be telling half the story. If Graceland moves, Graceland dies.

I’ve visited Graceland a couple of times myself—if you have even the slightest spark of affection in your heart for the King, I highly recommend it—and one of the most striking things about the place to me was that, from the backyard right up next to the house, you got an easy view right into the backyards of other houses in the neighborhood. I had always pictured it as being more secluded—at least tucked away behind some high hedges or some sort of privacy fence or something, in the manner of usually what comes to mind with other big fancy mansions.

But no, it was pretty much wide open out there; you could see laundry hanging out to dry on clotheslines all over the place, guys on lawn tractors, old ladies stooped over in their truck patch hacking at weeds, and such. Naturally, those neighbors could likewise see up into Elvis’s yard too. It was kinda cool to imagine the wild, outlandish goings-on Elvis’s neighbors had a bird’s eye view of over the years.

As Joe Bob says: Move Graceland, Graceland dies. Whatever law or ordinance the Memphis city council needs to pass to bring this ill-considered, near-criminal nonsense to a screeching halt, they oughta do it if you ask me. It’s an arrogant affront to history itself. While admittedly nothing like as significant or weighty as Notre Dame, Graceland’s legend is bigger than the present owners seem able to grasp. It doesn’t belong only to them.

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Notable quotes

Two instant classics from Ol’ Remus:

Ever notice “tolerance, equality and inclusion” means banning something or ejecting someone?

Odd, that. I’ll truncate this next one to highlight the part that really grabbed me:

The best training for civil war is how to stay out of it.

Wisdom, distilled to its purest essence.

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Johnny Rotten strikes again!

Anarchy for the USA, it’s coming sometime…maybe.

Sex Pistols frontman Johnny Rotten isn’t afraid to buck the establishment and sound the alarm over L.A.’s homeless epidemic, which has literally landed at his front door.

The 63-year-old lives in Venice Beach where there has been a surge of homeless vagrants that have vandalized his multi-million dollar home and spoiled the beaches with “poo” and “needles.”

“A couple of weeks ago I had a problem,” he said. “They came over the gate and put their tent inside, right in front of the front door. It’s like…the audacity. And if you complain, what are you? Oh, one of the establishment elite? No, I’m a bloke that’s worked hard for his money and I expect to be able to use my own front door.”

He added that his wife Nora, who suffers from Alzheimer’s, isn’t able to cope with bums trying to “steal the iron bars off the windows” for the scrap metal and bricks coming through his windows.

“My wife’s ill and she can’t cope with this. But at 2 a.m. last week, a brick whizzed through the top floor window, the bedroom. Sorry, Mr. Policeman. I need your help.”

They have also spoiled beach life: “And the heroin spikes…You can’t take anyone to the beach because there’s jabs just waiting for young kids to put their feet in — and poo all over the sand.”

If you think John’s attitude ain’t Punk As Fuck, allow Nolte to explain:

This might sound like hypocrisy coming from a punk rocker, but it’s really not. The whole ethos of ’70s and ’80s punk rock is live and let live. No rules…at least until you interfere with me living the life I want to live, which is exactly what is happening to Rotten.

In fact, Rotten (whose real name is John Lydon) is bucking an establishment that treats these vagrants as sacred cows while at the same time pretending they do not exist because their rising numbers reflect badly on the Democrat-run strongholds that cannot manage the growing problem.

The media and the left-wing political establishment want us to see the homeless as victims of a cruel American capitalism that allows good people to fall through society’s cracks. Naturally, the only solution to this problem is big government socialism.

Johnny Rotten complaining about one of the most sacred of sacred cows is as punk as it gets, and so is his support of Trump and Brexit.

Punk was always about undermining the status quo and just going against the grain generally, so I’d say Nolte has the right of things here. As for the heroin spikes, I’d guess his experience with Sid Vicious’ ignoble end could have left him with a particularly bad taste in his mouth where that’s concerned. Either way, keep rockin’, Johnny.

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Government is just another name for the things we choose to do together

Sickening.

An elderly veteran who ran a business supplying water to fight forest fires was prosecuted by the federal government and sent to prison for digging ponds on his own property, one of his lawyers says.

Joe Robertson, a Navy veteran from Montana, was 78 when he was convicted and sentenced to 18 months in federal prison and ordered to pay $130,000 in restitution through deductions from his Social Security checks.

His crime?

Robertson, whose business supplied water trucks to Montana firefighters, dug a series of small ponds close to his home in 2013 and 2014. The site was a wooded area near a channel, a foot wide and a foot deep, with two to three garden hoses’ worth of flow, according to court documents.

The U.S. government prosecuted Robertson for digging in proximity to “navigable waters” without a permit, a violation of the Clean Water Act administered by the Environmental Protection Agency and the Army Corps of Engineers.

The Supreme Court is expected to decide in April whether it will hear Robertson’s appeal.

Robertson, sentenced in 2016, completed his 18 months behind bars in late 2017.

He was still on parole for the next 20 months when he died March 18 at age 80 of natural causes, according to his widow.

Of course, even his death won’t dissuade the Gummint scum from hounding his bereaved family for the arrears.

His widow, Carrie, has taken up his case, seeking to clear her husband’s name and reverse the fine, which is still in place as a lien against his estate.

I repeat: sickening. Every rotten FederalGovCo son of a bitch in any way involved with this abominable travesty ought to have his balls, if any, stuffed into a Cuisinart and pureed into a fine red mist. Want violent revolution, Swamp rats? This is one of the ways you get yourself one.

Torches, pitchforks, and heads on pikes begin to sound like no more than a good start, don’t they?

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

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

"Give me the media and I will make of any nation a herd of swine." - Joseph Goebbels

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