Get real

The word of the day seems to be “secession.” That, or some other specimen of national break-up. Which is every bit as futile a notion as the fantasy that the massive and completely successful 2020 election fraud will miraculously be righted via courtroom maneuvering or other peaceful means.

Ain’t gonna happen, folks.

The nation’s current divide is partly geographic but mostly cultural and juridical. The Texas-led states, despite including parts of the former confederacy, now stand for the rule of law and the civil rights protections of the 1868 14th Amendment. The California-led states now seek to undo over 150 years of human rights laws so that they can override the suffrage and petitions of a “suspect class” (Republicans).

Polling indicates that neither side is budging on the question that best serves as a litmus test: whether the election of Joe Biden is legitimate. About half the country believes it was not because they share Texas’s understanding of what citizen rights are and what constitutes evidence. Half the country believes the election was legitimate because they share California’s understanding of citizen rights as framed by context and by goals, with any means being justified by the right goals, depending on the group involved.

For the first time in anyone’s living memory, we have to contend with the real possibility that the United States will split into separate nations. The split will not look like the 19th century Civil War and may not even be a war at all. Looking at history, I’ve come upon the following possible precedents in history that may help us understand the potential outcomes.

Follows, three historical examples going all the way back to the Roman Empire. Normal American runs down a few scenarios himself before proposing the only one I’ve seen yet that’s even a wee mite plausible:

There is an alternative. An October column here endorsed co-existence through radical federalism: “Longer term re-stabilization could devolve power from Washington, D.C. to state governments. California could ban pickups and mandate abortions, while Texas could do the opposite. Nobody would love it, but the republic would survive.”

An American Mind article from November 30 proposes radical federalism through a constitutional convention. The result would be one currency, one army, mostly separate, somewhat united. Most federal functions would vanish, with state courts becoming “the final word on the right to bear arms, free speech and abortion.” That avoids the difficulty of the U.S. Fourth Fleet in Florida operating a few miles from Naval Submarine Base Kings Bay in hostile territory previously known as Georgia.

Sadly, no evidence suggests that the left will compromise. It is emboldened. Our self-appointed rulers are calling President Trump and his supporters “maggots” who “must be prosecuted and convicted and removed from our society.” Democrat operatives are talking up “guillotines.” Instead of lowering tensions this week, Joe Biden’s senior aides are cursing opponents. Plus federalism is racist.

Even under such a plan, the Defense Department, the State Department, intelligence agencies, federal law enforcement, and the Federal Reserve will continue. Those account for millions of jobs and nearly a quarter of today’s federal budget. The deep state creatures denning in these agencies will not agree to reductions in their authority any more than a colony of paper wasps will agree to the destruction of its nest.

A second American Mind article was published this week as a rebuttal to the first. The left will not tolerate co-existence, wrote Edward Erler, an emeritus professor of political science. “Like all domineering partners who abuse their consorts, they want to rule.”

A commenter at the American Greatness article above forcefully reiterates that home truth:

The only flaw I can see to the “separate ways” argument is a fatal one.

No matter what you do, no matter what you try, do you really think these people will leave you alone?

A major part of the draw of American leftism is the false sense of moral and intellectual superiority it confers to its devotees. But what good is that if you don’t have a captive audience of people into whose faces you can rub your superiority? If you can’t reach them, then how can you lord over them? Tell them how to live? What to eat? When they can leave their homes? Whether they’re permitted to worship? How can you censor them, take away their right to self defense, and punish them?

How can you keep humiliating them and mocking them with sham elections that serve to reinforce their helplessness before your power?

We lost the culture wars because every time we gave in to what the leftists demanded and asked, “Now will you leave us alone?” they attacked another institution.

They will never leave you alone.

So you might as well fight them where you are. This is our country. Our Constitution, our Republic. Not theirs. Why cede it to them? Fight.

Sadly, the very next commenter plunges face-first into the fog of Pretend War, emphasizing the crucially crucial importance of “attending city government meetings, attending school board meetings, running for local government” and, one can only assume, VOTING VOTING VOTING! Aesop puts paid to that happy horseshit with a bucket of cold-water reality to the face.

It’s nice to dream (by which I mean it’s free, pleasant, and makes one feel happy), but you aren’t going to dream your way out of what’s coming.
You can’t dream your way out of socialism.
And history demonstrates, over and over, that you cannot vote your way out of it either.
So unless you’re 10 years old, and planning on outliving it, eventually, when you’re 95, the only way out of socialism is either to flee it (to where?), or to fight it.

Yup. And when some of us more practical, historically-literate types say “fight,” we are NOT talking about verbal complaints, smoke signals, angry letters to the editor, or allegorical puppet theater, either.

Like it or not, whatever “split” is going to happen in America already did—a philosophical, ideological, and cultural divergence that severed Lincoln’s “bonds of affection” in all but the strictly physical/geographic sense—and that’s as far as things are going to go without bloodshed. I repeat: FederalGovCo will never, ever, EVER peaceably agree to cede its power over half the country by partitioning it off and just letting all that territory, all that infrastructure, all those military installations, and all those taxpayer dollars stroll away unmolested. In fact, now that we’ve taken the final steps towards Commie dictatorship with the recent fraudulent “election,” I’d say the bloated, illegitimate central government’s iron grip is far likelier to tighten than to relax.

We fought one Civil War over secession already. Does anybody really want to try arguing that—after a century and a half of consolidating its might, expanding it, and carefully sweeping up the remaining scraps of Federalism and States’ Rights—the government is MORE likely to shrug its shoulders and allow it to occur without a murmur now? Although I wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to a national split myself if it would mean out-and-out war might be avoided…well, frankly, I just can’t see anything of the sort actually happening, that’s all.

More Lincoln, just to put the cherry on top.

Physically speaking, we cannot separate. We cannot remove our respective sections from each other, nor build an impassable wall between them. A husband and wife may be divorced, and go out of the presence, and beyond the reach of each other; but the different parts of our country cannot do this. They cannot but remain face to face; and intercourse, either amicable or hostile, must continue between them. Is it possible then to make that intercourse more advantageous or more satisfactory, after separation than before? Can aliens make treaties easier than friends can make laws? Can treaties be more faithfully enforced between aliens, than laws can among friends? Suppose you go to war, you cannot fight always; and when, after much loss on both sides, and no gain on either, you cease fighting, the identical old questions, as to terms of intercourse, are again upon you.

The sand in the gears is that the TWANLOCs can in no conceivable way be considered “friends” any longer, either of Real Americans or of Constitutional governance itself. As “aliens” go, they’re the worst possible variety: hostile ones. Lincoln is correct when he contends that “you cannot fight always.” But you absolutely MUST fight until your enemy is vanquished. And this war will not be won until the Left is crushed utterly, the pugnacity and power-lust stomped out of them.

I bring you good tidings of great joy

No, not THOSE good tidings of etc. In welcome contradiction of my recent claim concerning the routine failure of the Get Woke Go Broke boycotts to result in anybody actually, y’know, Going Broke:

In early 2019 Gillette released its infamous “toxic masculinity” commercial which effectively accused its loyal customer base of being bullies and sexual predators. That ad sparked an angry backlash of men who are fed up with SJW attacks on them, and who vowed to stop buying Gillette products. (I’m one of them.) Six months later Procter & Gamble had to take an $8 billion impairment charge due to Gillette’s declining sales and the declining book value of the Gillette brand, which caused P&G to have an overall $5 billion loss that quarter.

We don’t know how many millions of men quit buying Gillette products after it went hyper-woke, because P&G isn’t telling us. But the Securities and Exchange Commission does require P&G to document problem areas and potentially impaired assets.

Procter & Gamble’s 10-K published in August for the fiscal year ending 6/30/2020 is a long slog of a report, but in summary, things are going well for all P&G units except “Shave Care”.

Hilariously, P&G attempts to lay the blame for Gillette’s sudden collapse on…wait for it…waaaait for it…THEVIRUSTHEVIRUSTHEVIRUS!!!™ Because, y’know, reasons. Buck cheerfully takes a lance to that lame-ass boil.

It’s weird, but as I perused this 10-K report, I found that there is only one P&G unit that may have an upcoming impairment charge, and that one unit is its “Shave Care” unit. Covid apparently isn’t having an impact on Old Spice sales (Old Spice is part of P&G’s “Beauty Care” division), but those same men still buying Old Spice aftershave have stopped buying Gillette razors. Yeah right. Or maybe it’s because P&G hasn’t yet run any commercials where it slanders its Old Spice users as bullies and sexual predators.

P&G tries out several other rationales while scrupulously avoiding any mention of the ill-considered foray into the Kingdom of Woke as a possible cause for Gillette auguring in. Lest we forget, the Male Hate ads were by no means Woke Gillette’s only misfire:

That scarifying offense against pretty much everything imaginable inspired a pictorial response from me, which I’m happy to repost now in celebration of the Big Faceplant.

 

 


Tragically, the post with the above images was vaporized in last year’s blog-buster hack, along with the images themselves and pretty much everything else. But I did have copies here on the local machine, thank goodness.

 

An “American Coward” speaks

Holding back anticipating a safety in numbers that may never come.

Every one of those Americans who understands this must realize that this is it. This is the last moment for the American Republic, the last time we will even have a glimmer of a chance of an honest election result, and the last time any opposition to modern communism will be afforded space in the public square. And yet, neither I nor most of you are going to do anything about this situation that might risk our present status or comfort.

This is why I won’t yet act.

Unfortunately for me, the crisis has come either too late or too early. Our family has four young children, a single income, and a base of assets which could be easily lost but probably never replaced. We are maximally vulnerable to the sorts of attacks which collectivists bring against those who fight back.

Even so, if the fight were on, if the majority of Americans who this past election shows are opposed to creeping collectivism were on the march, I would risk it all to join them. No comfort, no wealth, not even life itself is as important as preserving the possibility of human freedom. The hive-society prison which is being built around us must be demolished at any cost.

But when I look around me, I see many people who are paralyzed as I am. We know that the fight for our republic is unavoidable, and that the time is now, but do not see a nucleus of resistance to which we can pledge our lives, fortunes, and sacred honors without it being tantamount to suicide. We are watching and waiting for someone else to be that nucleus.

Most people who have not committed to the cause of freedom are not conscious supporters of modern communism. Some hold out the futile hope that things will all go back to normal, others have convinced themselves that what is happening is inevitable and cannot be opposed. Both are dead wrong. As open struggle against collectivism, communism, authoritarianism, and globalism rises, both of these positions will weaken, and support for freedom will grow.


I put “American Coward” in quotes in my title because honestly, I’m not at all sure that that’s she actually is. Her initial commentary on communism—indeed, the whole piece, which you should definitely read—shows her to be a woman of intelligence, a modest mother of four whose primary concern is for her family’s security and well-being but who nonetheless acutely grasps the overall situation, and is sincerely pained by it.

So is she REALLY a “coward,” then? Or is she a rational, reasonable soul who is deeply troubled by all this but finds herself at sea when it comes to the practicalities of what she can do about it personally? Does her duty to her children override all else? Or does her duty to her country compel her to rise up and take every action she must to help preserve it from Enemies, Domestic? Exactly what IS her duty here, anyway? Might there still be some useful part for her to play? Kit Perez takes a stab at resolving the conundrum.

Dear Sarah,
I wonder how many in the current climate recognize the act of defiance it took for you to write your letter. There will be those who focus on your supposed “cowardice,” as if standing up in the current game of Whack-a-Mole is somehow bravery, and restraint is proof of spinelessness. In reality, it is not cowardice you possess, but a recognition that there are different roles to play in this war, and different times to play them. Not all roles require a rifle, and not all of them are being played right now. I cannot speak for anyone but myself, but I fear they will all be in much greater use sooner rather than later.

Your choice to raise your children and train them in freedom, to serve as a support mechanism instead of a front line partisan, is not a cowardly one. The time is coming soon when those fighting for freedom will need a place to hide, food to eat, and a way to communicate. You may be a conduit for supplies, information, and a safe place for a partisan to get a tiny bit of much-needed rest someday in the near future. This is all for naught if our children cannot live in freedom, but doubly so if they do not understand its cost.

There are those who are willing to be on the proverbial tip of the spear, and they see you as well. If they are students of their own role, they understand that yours is crucial too. Paine wrote that “If there must be trouble, let it be in my day, that my child may have peace; and this single reflection, well applied, is sufficient to awaken every man to duty.” Duty doesn’t always mean a rifle, and I have no doubt that you, and many others like you, will find a way to serve in the coming trouble.

Your letter did not fill me with a sense of superiority or judgment for your position, and I do not believe that you are somehow worth less in the cause of freedom. If anything, it made me take heart, because I see you. I see your heart and your willingness to be part of the fight for liberty, if only as a “mere” cog in a larger system, one that is bigger than any of us.

There will be a time when you are needed to take up your role, and that day is coming so much faster than any of us would ever wish for. Perhaps a wounded patriot will find your door in desperate need of help. Maybe you will find a way to get supplies to those who are fighting. Maybe your role is simply to stay alive long enough to tell our story to your children. And if all else fails, in a time when there is seemingly no hope, someone has to pick up our rifles and keep fighting. Your letter says that you will, and that is all we can ask for.

Seems right to me. As I’ve said here several times before, I am way too damned old and sickly now myself to shoulder a fifty-pound ruck, a medium-to-long range rifle and ammunition, and then hump on off for a month-long sniper sojourn in the woods. But among other things, I can roll bandages and/or load mags like a motherfucker. That may not seem like very much, especially to the chest-thumpier types among us, all a-brim with bluff and bluster as they are. But it ain’t nothing, either. Flinging hot lead downrange isn’t the only contribution to be made in wartime, as every real soldier knows. Not by a long yard, it ain’t.

So be of good cheer, Sarah, as much as any of us can manage during these most parlous times. We’ll all have our own part to play in the dark days ahead. Even the most valiant of warriors requires substantial rear-area support in order to fight and win on the front lines. It’s not shirking or cowardice to recognize where and how one can be of most real use, and to know one’s limitations and liabilities. What matters is that we jump in and fill that hole when we see one.

(Both via WRSA)

Kill Bill

Nobody brings the heat quite like Ace does. Exhibit A:

Cartoonishly Fat Democrat Huckster Bill Kristol Dream-Journals for Hours on Twitter About What the New Political Party He’ll be Leading Will be Called
—Ace

Serious. People.

Who’s going to follow this obese, cognitively-declining traitor anywhere?

Fuck, I wouldn’t follow this gelatinous pile of failure and decay into an Arby’s. And I would actually like to go to an Arby’s.

He’s just sitting there on Twitter like an unemployed grifter (hey… ) noodling about what he’s going to call his Fantasy Political Party.

He’s going to be a leader of men?

How does that work? Are we now choosing male leaders based on cup size?

It’s fucking pathetic. He’s so far gone he doesn’t understand that obese, elderly men talking about their fantasies on twitter should be a source for embarrassment, not a high point of his professional career.

Hey Fatso, if you’re going to fantasize, maybe fantasize about a heart-healthy cheesecake that won’t go straight to your hips.

Dude, OUCH. Also, heh. He goes on from there to savage “Dr” Joette Biden, Fake First Lady of whatever we’re gonna be calling the fake pseudo-nation formerly known as the United States of America from now on.

True colors update! Another backstabbing NeverTrump retard gets the smackdown he deserves.

And there it is…

Steve Schmidt is now officially a Democrat.

And he’s already pissed at people using “Democrat” instead of “Democratic.”

Alt Headline: Lincoln Project member fully endorses party of slavery:


OUCH and heh again. Additional bitchslappin’ hilarity here.

Although in Li’l Stevie’s defense, the ig’nernt asshole is most likely totally, blissfully unaware of that whole “party of slavery, Jim Crow, and segregation” business. Doesn’t excuse it, merely explains it. Now do Li’l Ricky “My Favorite Martian” Wilson for us, ‘kay?

Maskhole genealogy

Misses by a smidge, but a miss is as good as a mile.

All over the country we are seeing confrontations between mask-wearers and non-mask wearers. The maskless  are typically engaging in normal activities, minding their own business, certainly not shouting at every passerby to take off their masks. Most of them keep to themselves while out, not talking to others or getting too close. Many seem to be in contact with almost no one around them until a Very Indignant™ masked person comes along to yell and holler in their face.

The maskholes, on the contrary, cannot keep their COVID-infected hands to themselves…or at least their mouths to themselves. They feel the need to follow the maskless around stores, stop their cars and scream at them from the middle of an intersection, stalk them on sidewalks yelling foul things. They are the ultimate Karens. They have convinced themselves that the fate of the world lies in the fabric covering their mouths. Worse, they have convinced themselves that the fate of the world lies in the fabric covering your mouth.

Maskholes were formerly Enviroholes (and will be again once they’ve Karen’d the virus into submission). Some of them also doubled as Taxholes. When the mask thing came along, they slipped right into it. It felt cozy and familiar and the fit was just right.

All these conditions are the result of an outsized need to save the world, which is rooted in helplessness.

They don’t really want to save the world; they want to run it, to control everybody in it. For our own good, of course. Despite the misstep, the author seems to be aware:

To Karens and maskholes.

There are a lot of people running around America right now who aren’t really concerned about the virus. They are just concerned about your compliance, about your refusal to follow orders because the orders will bring control and control is how we thwart God’s sovereignty. Or so we believe.

Look once more at the video of this man. He is stalking a woman with no mask on, but he doesn’t seem to be the least bit concerned for his health or safety. He isn’t worried about getting the virus from her at all. If he were, he would have immediately left the store and sought safe air elsewhere. When people are frightened for their lives, their first instincts are to either run or freeze in terror. This man marched up and down the store aisles just to scold a stranger.

He wasn’t worried for his life at all. None of the maskholes are. They wouldn’t be out of their homes if they were.

No, they are not scared to die of COVID, they are angry that you’re not “following the rules” while they are. It’s not fair. These are the same people who believe the best solution to the success gap is to level the playing field by punishing success. If their lives are miserable then yours should be too. If they don’t want to use plastic bags (even though everyone prefers them) then you shouldn’t use them either. If people won’t make the “right” choices then they should be forced to make the “right” choice because it’s only fair.

Bingo. Meddlesome, obnoxious jerks like this are nothing new, though. We’ve always been plagued by ’em—lecturing, preaching, scolding, preening, their innate superiority forever on display. In years past they’ve been referred to as bluenoses, busybodies, buttinskis, snoops, snitchers, squealers, tattletales, Nosy Parkers, and quidnuncs. Today they’re Maskholes and Karens; tomorrow, they’ll be something else. Because the one sure thing is that these, we will always have with us. Maybe Dana Carvey captured the gist of their prim, joyless, juiceless nature better than anybody has yet:

They should ask themselves why we hate them. Unfortunately, it would never even occur to them; the Busybody’s core delusion insists that we’re all in total awe of them, couldn’t possibly get along without them, and are keenly awaiting further instructions.

A Cold War carol

Yep, it’s time for another sheer-genius musical extravaganza from Steyn.

Back in 1952, Gloria Shayne had been the pianist in the dining room of a New York hotel when a young man walked in, took one look at the gal at the keyboard, and went up and introduced himself. He was a Frenchman who spoke very little English, she was an American who spoke even less French. She liked pop music, he had come to America to be a classical musician. Yet within a month they were married. Flash forward ten years: Noël Regney’s English has improved, and, although he still hasn’t made his name in serious music, he’s learned to appreciate American pop music since his wife hit the jackpot with “Goodbye, Cruel World”. They even write songs together – usually with Noël writing the music, and Gloria the lyrics.

But not this time. Noël Regney had had a lively war. Born in Strasbourg, he’d been conscripted, after the German invasion, into the army of the Reich. And, although he soon deserted and joined the Resistance, he stayed in German uniform long enough to lead his platoon intentionally into the path of a group of French partisans, who wound up shooting him. After the liberation of his country, he went east to be the musical director of the Indochinese service of Radio France, and found himself in the middle of a new conflict. He thought the Second World War was so terrible that it must surely be the end of all war. But here it was – October 1962 – and as he saw it Washington and Moscow were playing a dangerous game of nuclear brinksmanship over Soviet missiles in Cuba. On the streets of Manhattan, he saw two infants in strollers being wheeled by their mothers along the sidewalk, and decided he wanted to write something for them. Not music, but words: A poem.

He wrote a tune to go with it, too, but he decided it wasn’t right, and turned to his wife. “When he finished,” said Gloria, “Noël gave it to me and asked me to write the music. He said he wanted me to do it because he didn’t want the song to be too classical. I read over the lyrics, then went shopping. I was going to Bloomingdale’s when I thought of the first music line.”

I was gonna withhold the name of the song so as to keep y’all in suspense as to which Christmas classic he’s referring to, but then realized there’s no way I could resist embedding it here, and that I had no desire to anyway.



Amazing, isn’t it, how so very many of those Great American Songbook tunes have such fascinating backstories?

Annnnd again

Meh. I’ll believe it when I see it.

Disney announced a lot of their big plans for the future in a huge investor presentation last week, but they didn’t announce all of them. There’s one property that I’ve been hearing whispers about that didn’t get mentioned. That property is Firefly. The lack of an announcement about it doesn’t mean, however, that Disney isn’t keen to do something with the Joss Whedon cult phenom. In fact, they’re working on a new Firefly series for Disney+. Development on their Firefly reboot is in such an early stage, however, that they couldn’t make an announcement about it during last week’s Investor Day.

Disney acquired the rights to Firefly in their acquisition of Fox back in 2019. There was no immediate move to do anything with the property, but something has changed. That something is the end of movie theaters.

Movie theaters are done. The biggest chain in the world will likely shutter permanently next month and the others are likely to follow suit. As a result Disney’s focus is shifting away from movies and towards producing programming for streaming platforms. Their investor presentation last week demonstrated this with a strong focus on Disney+ programming. To feed the streaming beast Disney needs more and more TV programming. Specifically, they’d like to have something that’s a draw besides Star Wars and Marvel. One of their plans to up the variety of content on their streaming platform is Firefly.

My source tells me that Disney is in early development on a Firefly reboot. The new show would start the story of Captain Mal Reynolds and his crew aboard the Serenity over from scratch, with an aim to make this a long-running series on Disney+. There is a twist here and the twist is that they see the show as ideal family-friendly programming for Disney+. My source tells me they’re planning to target it more at a PG-adventure, family audience and less at the sort of PG-13 dynamic the original Joss Whedon show went for.

This shift in tone suggests the new version of Firefly might drop characters like Inara, who is basically a prostitute. Instead it’ll probably lean more into the fun and adventure aspect of the universe’s stories. Fans may initially be unhappy, but it’s easy to see a way it could work.

Easier by far to see a lot more ways they could screw the pooch. And since it’s fully-Woke Disney we’re talking about here, I think I know which is the better bet, sorry as I am to have to say it.

As for dumping Inara, well, let’s see here. Shepherd Book, Wash, and Mr Universe all died in Serenity, so they’re gone. From the sound of it, Disney will probably neuter Captain Mal into an indecisive, wimpy man-child, always in search of a shoulder to cry on or a group hug, less Captain Kirk and more Ensign Hamlet. Simon Tam will be rendered hors de transgendeur in a desperate bid to “modernize” the franchise, making it more palatable for today’s non-binary audience. Jayne will finally break out those sassy cocktail dresses he’s kept secreted in a footlocker all this time unbeknownst to the rest of the Firefly crew, mincing around the galley belting out classic Broadway showtunes in a fluttery falsetto. Kaylee, in despair over Simon’s sudden gender uncertainty, will abandon ship to become a nun on Convent, a remote planet settled by Catholic colonists. Eventually, her chronic sexual frustration will drive her to announce a new self-identity: Negro male. She will leave Convent to return to Earth, where she will join BLM and then be killed in a mostly-peaceful riot.

I’d be thrilled to see a properly-done Firefly, but I have my doubts about this one. The word “reboot” itself is a red flag; the show doesn’t need rejiggering or re-imagining or rebooting, it just needs restarting, nothing more. As Glenn quips: “Given what Disney has done to Star Wars, I’m not sure we should celebrate.” Indeed. More than likely, almost certainly, the greatest TV show EVER will be defanged, declawed, deballed, and as far as I’m concerned, defunct.

Thanks for all the fish

Don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya, sez I.

President Trump announced via Twitter that following a meeting to discuss the current state of 2020 election fraud with Attorney General Bill Barr, the U.S. AG will be departing his position before Christmas.

Barr’s resignation letter is…well, see for yourself.

Dear Mr President,  
I appreciate the opportunity to update you this afternoon on the Department’s review of voter fraud allegations in the 2020 election and how these allegations will continue to be pursued. At a time when the country is so deeply divided, it is incumbent on all levels of government, and all agencies acting within their purview, to do all we can to assure the integrity of elections and promote public confidence in their outcome.

I am greatly honoured that you called on me to serve your administration and the American people once again as Attorney General. I am proud to have played a role in the many successes and unprecedented achievements you have delivered for the American people. Your 2016 victory speech in which you reached out to your opponents and called for working together for the benefit of the American people was immediately met by a partisan onslaught against you in which no tactic, no matter how abusive and deceitful, was out of bounds. The nadir of this campaign was the effort to cripple, if not oust, your administration with frenzied and baseless accusations of collusion with Russia.

Few could have weathered these attacks, much less forge ahead with a positive program for the country. You built the strongest and most resilient economy in American history – one that has brought unprecedented progress to those previously left out. You have restored American military strength. By brokering historic peace deals in the Mideast you have achieved what most thought impossible. You have curbed illegal immigration and enhanced the security of our nation’s borders. You have advanced the rule of law by appointing a record number of judges committed to constitutional principles. With Operation Warp Speed, you delivered a vaccine for coronavirus on a schedule no one thought conceivable – a feat that will undoubtedly save millions of lives.

Downright effusive in his praise for Trump. Unexpected? Or perfectly in character? Barr has a knack for saying all the right things, and being quite eloquent in doing so, too. Whatever he may actually be—dithering, ineffectual-but-honest-in-the-main pedant or conniving Deep State malefactor—after years of tail-chasing “investigation” with no significant results in sight, it’s time for him to go.



The Troubles

Or, as some of the fresh-off-the-boat Irish lads I used to run around with back in my NYC days always pronounced it, The Thrubbles.

The descent of a once-peaceful republic into blood and chaos happened quickly. It took place over a year or two, after police stepped aside while mobs set up barricades, torched homes, and eventually started shooting their political enemies.

Other lessons from the Troubles:

  • Snipers were most effective early on. The British forces adapted by switching to sniper-proof guard towers, armored vehicles, and helicopters. Soldiers were issued body armor and helmets. The British forces also employed counter-snipers.
  • Snipers were responsible for about 220 deaths and about 1,100 non-fatal casualties. But those represented only 11 percent of all British police and military casualties claimed by the IRA. The rest came from improvised explosive devices, car bombs, drive-by shootings, and close-in assassinations.
  • The IRA pioneered conducting a sniper attack from inside a vehicle. One team used a Barrett .50 caliber rifle inside a Mazda 626 hatchback. The shooter would lie prone and fire through a one-foot shooting port in the rear of the vehicle. After the shot, a metal shield would be moved into place as armor.
  • The British Military Reconnaissance Force, attached to 39th Infantry Brigade, ran a laundry business. The Four-Square Laundry was a front organization that existed to conduct reconnaissance and run forensic tests on clothing belonging to suspected IRA members. The IRA learned about it and wiped it out in a daylight attack by three gunmen with a Thompson sub-machine gun, an M1 carbine, and a .45 semi-automatic handgun.
  • The IRA used honeytraps. In one example two young women, who appeared to be between 18 and 22 years old, frequented the lounge bar of the Woodlands Hotel. They lured British soldiers to a nearby apartment, and excused themselves briefly. Two IRA gunmen burst in and assassinated the soldiers.
  • Protestant newspapers served as anti-Catholic propaganda outlets. In 1971, one published a letter referring to Catholics as “animals crawling into Ulster.” It said: “You’ve got to fight fire with fire, and personally I don’t think they’ve enough fire to make the animals sweat.” Loyalist News said Catholics wanted to “enslave the people” and recommended Protestants “organize themselves immediately.”


Unlike our peaceful republic, Northern Ireland was plagued by a left-wing paramilitary organization that targeted peaceful Irish families. Politicians dialed up the rhetoric by blaming Catholic deplorables for anti-government sentiments, and media organizations worked to dehumanize their opponents. Normal Americans must be shaking their heads at how Northern Ireland’s justice system allowed barricades to go up in cities.

We are more fortunate. That could never happen here.

Yeah, lucky us.

Speaking of my old NYC Irish chums, and apropos of nothing whatsoever, I hope I’m not speaking out of turn when I mention a guy I knew fairly well back then. He was the owner of a once-famous, long-gone-and-much-lamented concert hall on 19th Street, both bearing names I’ll refrain from mentioning. We played the place ourselves regularly back in the day, along with a whole slew of other touring acts of every genre. I couldn’t even begin to recount how many unforgettable shows I saw in that joint.

As it happens, said to-remain-nameless owner—being well-connected with some IRA sorts who would pop in to visit on the occasional fundraising and/or gun-procuring jaunt Stateside—troubled himself to introduce me to a couple of these gents at barside, God only knows why. There was also a fair Colleen working for him as a waitress that I was enjoying something of a dalliance with concurrently. Anyhoo.

Understand me well: I have spent a goodly portion of my life happily cheek-by-jowl with some truly scary people. Hells Angels in NYC; Outlaws in Chicago; miscellaneous and sundry reprobates from squarely within the Mad, Bad, and Dangerous To Know demographic. All of them I have bent an elbow with, played music for, and just generally enjoyed the company of, without the slightest anxiety or concern. Well, for the most part.

And I gotta tell ya: scary they may have been, but NONE of those guys froze the marrow like those IRA guys did. Merely being in the same room with them inspired one to start checking six on a frequent basis.

I was there once with a close friend of mine, now deceased, who was nothing short of a badass his own self. We were at 19th St to see a show. As we passed by on the way to our table one of those IRA dudes made an off-color crack regarding my friend’s girlfriend. We sat the female down, whereupon Chris requested my accompaniment as backup for his intended confrontation of the offending blaggard. We walked back towards the guy prefatory to Chris speaking his piece; the guy was perched on a barstool, Guiness in hand, just as cool as some cucumbers as we approached all stiff-legged, jaws clenched and shoulders squared.

The IRA guy said NOTHING. Not a single syllable did he utter. But his eyes—which never for a moment wavered from their absolute lock on the two large and obviously angry guys approaching—his eyes had Death in them. Chris, who I had never, ever seen back down or knuckle under to a living soul, not once…backed the fuck on down.

Me? I was damned glad he did.

That IRA guy would have made mincemeat of the both of us and never broke a sweat or missed a moment’s sleep over it afterwards. Doubtless he would have sat down and enjoyed himself a nice rare steak after cutting our throats in the most casual fashion. I ain’t kidding in the least, y’all. That’s how just plain scary this guy was. It just rolled off of him in waves, intimidating one of the biggest, toughest, most fearless guys I ever knew into turning himself around and slinking off with nothing more than a steely-eyed glare. I never saw the beat of it, before or since, and I hope I never do again.

Being of Irish descent myself, I always longed to pay a visit to the Emerald Isle someday. After that near-miss brush with heartless Fate, though, the ambition lost a lot of its urgency, I do admit it.

A story of Rebellion, and of justice done

A particularly hilarious one.

An Ocean Shores man said he was attacked for confronting two men for not wearing masks, and now he’s worried police are not properly investigating the case.

Daniel Troublefield, 43, said he was at the Ocean Shores IGA Sunday night when he called someone out for not wearing a mask. Inside the store, he said the conversation turned heated, But he thought that was the end of it. However, he was not expecting what happened once he walked outside.

“I curled up in the fetal position and I was just ready to die,” said Troublefield.

Oh well, better luck next time. For the rest of us, I mean.

He shared this surveillance video with KIRO 7 News, which he got from the neighboring drug store. The video shows him in the parking lot walking out to his white car, but he walks past it as he was taunted by the maskless men.

“They kept berating me with expletives, calling me a snowflake and it’s not science, it’s a hoax,” Troublefield recalled.

Looking back, Daniel said he wishes he ignored them.

“To my regret I walked up to the car. I was trying to explain it is science and you should be wearing a mask because you’re endangering me and everyone else in the store by not having a mask on,” Troublefield said.

That’s when things escalated even further.

“The gentleman tapped on my chest. And I flipped up his hat, and that’s when they both got out of the car,” Troublefield explained.

“One grabbed me by the neck in a chokehold and got me down to the ground. And before I knew it, I was getting my face pummeled with fists,” Troublefield explained.

The beating lasted about 20 seconds. The men took off and now he’s worried they’re going to get away and he won’t get justice.

Oh, you got justice in spades, Mary Sue. You just didn’t like it much, being too goddamned stupid to recognize it even when it smears your nose all over your goddamned face for ya.

Troublefield, a disabled Marine veteran,

WHAAAAT?!? Appalling. Somewhere, Chesty Puller weeps.

said he never threw one punch and even passed out.

Okay wait, are we SURE this guy was really a Marine? Because from the way the story is shaping up, we’re gonna need some solid documentation of that claim before just accepting it on faith.

His nose is now fractured, he’s had to get stitches, and he’s got bruises on his face and body.

Bill has a most delightful After photo portraying the damage done. Y’all might enjoy viewing it as much as I did, maybe. Although I can’t for the life of me imagine how.

“I’d like to see the two gentleman locked up in jail. I’d like for them to pay for what they did,” Troublefield said. “I don’t think any human being deserves to be treated like I was treated.”

So let’s tot all this up then, shall we? You:

  • Stuck your oar in where it wasn’t wanted, starting a “heated” confrontation in a store with two guys guilty of nothing more than minding their own business and acting like normal, sane, free Americans
  • Breezed RIGHT ON PAST your own car, going well out of your way seeking to dick around some more with two already-pissed-off dudes, thereby escalating a confrontation YOU provoked in the first damned place
  • Reached into a private vehicle and “flipped up” Already Pissed Off Dude’s cap, thereby committing the crime of assault against him, probably battery as well
  • Got your miserable ass whupped, but good

Didn’t “deserve” such treatment? Au contraire, cupcake; I’d say you got PRECISELY the treatment you deserved, and should try to enjoy it. God knows you worked hard enough to earn it.

This contemptible disgrace to the Corps goes on to pule about how he and his wife are “compelled” to don the Magic Mask of Submission because they suffer from unspecified “preexisting conditions,” the poor widdle dears. To which I can only offer: stay the fuck home then, you pitiful pissant. In stark contrast with the more-robust gents who dealt out the just deserts, it’s obvious that you’re too sick to be gadding about out of doors—your condition compounded by a potentially life-threatening deficiency of good sense and politesse enough to prevent your alligator mouth from writing checks your hummingbird ass can’t cash and winding up in hospital over it.

An ex-Marine, no less. Hard to believe; harder still to swallow. But there it is, Gawd help us.

Chip off the old block

Via our old friend Stephen.



In case anyone is in the dark regarding the backstory to that sidesplitting rip, I’m most happy to hip ya—not least because re-rubbing Shartwell’s smarmy face in his own public humiliation is always the right thing to do.



There won’t be another non-Democrat-Socialist “president” until well after the Coming Unpleasantness concludes, if then. But if such a thing were possible, I’d hope and pray it would be Trump Jr. The guy’s like his old man, only cranked up way past 11.

The long steal

America, New and Old.

One would like to believe these restrictions will soon end and things will return to normal, but consider that we’re still taking our shoes off in airports, and it’s been almost 20 years since the 9/11 attacks. The government doesn’t give up power easily.

The coronavirus has been an incredible boon to the ruling class. This includes government at all levels, where busybody mayors and governors have shown enthusiasm that rivaled slippery federal government frauds like Dr. Anthony Fauci.

Government now has almost unrestricted power to pick and choose the winners. Amazon, Wall Street, Zoom, and various virtual industries are booming. Meanwhile, the working class—made up of waiters and bartenders—finds its employers shuttered. These establishments’ entrepreneurial owners and their dreams are now broken. Many will never recover.

Over the past month, we’ve heard a lot of talk about a stolen election. The story certainly seems to have some legs. But, regardless of the particulars of this contest, the election was stolen long before 2020.

It was stolen in 1965, when millions of foreigners began to be imported to enrich corporate balance sheets and increase the ranks of Democratic voters. No one would think it democracy to make China or Mexico the 51st state, with these new “citizens’” votes overwhelming those of Daughters of the American Revolution or former members of Patton’s Army. But importing 60 million people over 50 years, a population equivalent to the nation of Italy, is treated as a perfectly normal thing. America only had 180 million or so people when this radical social engineering began.

In other words, our country and the ability of the American people to pick its leaders was taken away long before 2020. The swift “bluing” of conservative strongholds such as Texas, Georgia, and Arizona is all part of the plan. The end result will be the one-party governance that we see in places like California.

Whether democratic or not, a country’s laws, customs, and leaders reflect and embody its character. If Trump was the last gasp of the old America, Biden is the embodiment of the new America and its managerial ruling class. Biden will leave little personal mark upon things, and not only because he is senile and lacks independence. He is not really in charge. No one person is.

In this new nation, which has slowly emerged from the social revolution of the 1960s and the managerial revolution of a generation before, the elected leader—like the old Soviet party secretaries—is simply a figurehead for a vast, complex, consensus-oriented party apparatus. And that class does not want an independent people, capable of self-government or resistance. They’ve locked nearly everyone into a system that makes any such gestures a fast track to poverty and powerlessness.

The new America doesn’t need bread and circuses, it has credit scores and Netflix and human resource departments to keep its people in line. People don’t even need to leave the house. And it’s all quite a bit easier for them that way.

The widespread propaganda, rules, and restrictions of 2020 provide a glimmer of hope. Those attached to this new order know that in mingling with one’s fellows at the pub, the water cooler, and in church, we would quickly realize we’re not alone in our anger and frustration. Real-life connections and organizing are the key to an authentic right-wing political movement.

It’s not a coincidence that the Founders met in taverns, nor one that our current ruling class is closing them down.

The more closely you look, the more clearly you see: in New America, there are NO coincidences.

A real breakthrough in the gender-bender wars

FINALLY.

Chuck Norris Comes Out Of Closet As Even More Of A Man
DALLAS, TX—In an explosive interview, Chuck Norris has come out of the closet, finally revealing to the world that he is even manlier than everyone originally thought.

“It’s time to come clean. I’ve been living a lie for so long,” said the martial arts master and action movie star. “For a long time, everyone thought I was a regular manly man who could defeat bad guys with a single roundhouse kick, but the reality is that I think I’m at least three men trapped inside one man’s body.”

The action star went on to explain that for decades, he attempted to conceal his epic manliness in order to blend in with normal men, but kept failing as he amassed black belt after black belt.

“Some people in my life did grow suspicious when it was found that my tears cure cancer even though I’ve never cried, or when it was discovered that Superman wears Chuck Norris Pajamas. I always had some excuse to explain it away, but I’m tired of living that life,” he said.

Scientists worry that if Chuck Norris chooses to outwardly live as his fully manly self, it could be the end of all life in the universe as we know it. Chuck Norris has assured us that if he does accidentally end the universe with his epicness, we don’t have to worry because he’ll just slap together a new one.

I wish you all the best on your courageous, heroic journey of transition, Chuck. Verily, you are an inspiration to us all.

Battlespace prep

People get ready.


Ace quips:

Confused Old Man: If I Have a Disagreement With Kamala I’ll Just Pretend I Have Advanced Cognitive Decline and Resign as Being Mentally Incompetent to Serve as President
—Ace

Well, that’s the gist of Biden’s statement.

The media is saying “No big deal, this is just a joke.”

Oh, a joke?

Weird. As Julie Kelly pointed out, one time Trump made a joke about Hillary’s deleted emails and he got a three year FBI/Special Counsel investigation for it.

But Democrats are permitted to tell jokes?

Interesting.

Oh, it’s a joke all right. I’m sure what Gropey should have said was, “of course I’ll do whatever my handlers tell me to do, up to and including stepping aside to make way for the Real President.” That would be a lot more accurate and honest.

The most wonderful time of the year!

Yes, folks, it is indeed the time of year when some of the most wonderful music yet written comes back around to enchant us all. Yes, I will most certainly be posting the wonderful Cantu/Chanticleer barside team-up on Biebl’s wonderful Ave Maria again this year—count on it. Probably more than once, actually. I swear, no matter how many times I watch that one—about eleventy million so far, I think, but who’s counting—I still get so badly choked up over it that singing along myself, much as I’d surely like to, is simply out of the question.

Anyways, thanks to MisHum and his wonderful ONT, to kick this wonderful season off in a most wonderful way we have something I didn’t see coming.



I always really liked Johnny Winter’s pickin’ but somehow missed this uncharasterically delicate little confection completely over lo, these many years. Talk about UNEXPECTED!™, eh?

We shall not see their like again

From Audie Murphy to Pajama Boy.

Growing up with a father, uncles, and cousins who struggled to maintain our California farm during the Depression and then fought in an existential war was a constant immersion in their predominantly tragic view of life. Most were chain smokers, ate and drank too much, drove too fast, avoided doctors, and were often impulsive—as if in their fifties and sixties, they were still prepping for another amphibious assault or day-time run over the Third Reich. Though they viewed human nature with suspicion, they were nonetheless upbeat—their Homeric optimism empowered by an acceptance of a man’s limitations during his brief and often tragic life. Time was short; but heroism was eternal. “Of course you can” was their stock reply to any hint of uncertainty about a decision. The World War II generation had little patience with subtlety, or even the suggestion of indecision—how could it when such things would have gotten them killed at Monte Cassino or stalking a Japanese convoy under the Pacific in a submarine?

One lesson of the war on my father’s generation was that dramatic action was always preferable to incrementalism, even if that meant that the postwar “best and brightest” would sometimes plunge into unwise policies at home or misadventures abroad. Another lesson the World War II generation learned—a lesson now almost forgotten—was that perseverance and its twin courage were the most important of all collective virtues. What was worse than a bad war was losing it. And given their sometimes tragic view of human nature, the Old Breed believed that winning changed a lot of minds, as if the policy itself was not as important as the appreciation that it was working.

In reaction to the stubborn certainty of our fathers, we of the Baby Boomer generation prided ourselves on introspection, questioning authority, and nuance. We certainly saw doubt and uncertainty as virtues rather than vices—but not necessarily because we saw these traits as correctives to the excesses of the GIs. Rather, as one follows the trajectory of my generation, whose members are now in their sixties and seventies, it is difficult not to conclude that we were contemplative and critical mostly because we could be—our mindset being the product of a far safer, more prosperous, and leisured society that did not face the existential challenges of those who bequeathed such bounty to us. Had the veterans of Henry Kaiser’s shipyards been in charge of California’s high-speed rail project, they would have built on time and on budget, rather than endlessly litigating various issues as costs soared in pursuit of a mythical perfection.

The logical conclusion of our cohort’s emphasis on “finding oneself” and discovering an “inner self” is the now iconic ad of a young man in pajamas sipping hot chocolate while contemplating signing up for government health insurance. Such, it seems, is the arrested millennial mindset. The man-child ad is just 70 years removed from the eighteen-year-olds who fought and died on Guadalcanal and above Schweinfurt, but that disconnect now seems like an abyss over centuries. One cannot loiter one’s mornings away when there is a plane to fly or a tank to build. I am not sure that presidents Franklin Roosevelt, Harry Truman, and Dwight Eisenhower were always better men than were presidents Bill Clinton, Barack Obama, and Donald Trump, but they were certainly bigger in the challenges they faced and the spirit in which they met them.

This New Year’s Eve, let us give a toast to the millions who are no longer with us and the thousands who will soon depart this earth. They gave us a world far better than they inherited.

How painfully ironic, then, that their unappreciative heirs should turn out to be the weak, soft, whiny little pissants they are, with each successive generation more contemptible than the one before it.

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