Right back atcha, Slick

So how ya liking that sauce there, Gander?

Black students in Georgia were suspended for planning a protest after white students waved a Confederate flag and allegedly used racial slurs
A group of Black students in Georgia was suspended after they planned a protest in response to white students who waved a Confederate flag and reportedly used racial slurs against Black students while at school earlier in the month.

Students at Coosa High School in Rome, Georgia, were captured on video waving the Confederate flag during a spirit day event, but the students did not face disciplinary action from school officials, a student at the school told WGCL-TV.

The incident led other students to plan a protest against racism. The student organizer, Jaylynn Murray, told WGCL-TV that the Confederate flag “is a racist symbol” and “it makes me feel disrespected.”

Aww, did poor widdle snowflake get hims feewings all hurted? Nut up, punk, and get the fuck over it.

A recording of an announcement made over the school intercom last week obtained by the outlet said students should not participate in a protest, warning they’d be “disciplined for encouraging unrest.”

And so they were. Looks like Zero Tolerance for CRT-pimping race-hate mongers is the order of the day at this school, and I for one am all for that.

The protest organizers, comprised of a group of Black, Latinx, and white students, were called to the front office to discuss the demonstration with administrators, the students said, according to the report. During the meeting, the organizers said they argued with school officials over the lack of actions against their classmates who they said used racial slurs against Black students, WGCL-TV reported.

As many MAGA protesters, anti-pAntiFa and -BurnLootMurder counter-protesters, and other Real Americans have learned—via having been beaten bloody while cops looked on and did nothing, or being hauled off and gulagged indefinitely without benefit of legal counsel or bail—life ain’t fair, Buttercup. Deal with it.

Then, the students said administrators suspended only the Black students involved in organizing the protest, even though other non-Black students involved told WGCL-TV they had also been disruptive and argumentative with school administrators.

Ibid, fuckface.

“They didn’t suspend me and I was yelling and loud. It’s because I’m white,” student Lilyan Huckaby told the outlet.

I suggest you cavil and kvetch less and count your blessings more, young ‘un. Might also want to consider cracking a book now and then, which will accrue to your benefit much more than getting suspended, locked up, and/or doing hard time ever will.

“We’re not allowed to wear Black Lives Matter shirts or the LGBTQ flag, but kids can have Confederate flags, and they have said nothing,” a student told the outlet.

Which is precisely as it should be, far as I’m concerned. But hey, here’s a novel idea: how about you kids just drop the whole “protest” gig altogether and spend the school day attending to your fucking studies, eh? I know I run the risk of making the baby Jesus cry by making such an outlandish, impractical, and unfair suggestion, but you kids are in school for a goddamned reason. And “protest” DEFINITELY ain’t it.

A video posted by WGCL-TV’s Hayley Mason on Oct. 8 shows students protesting and shouting: “No Justice, No Peace.”

Ahh, exactly what I was waiting for from these little pukes: the direct and explicit threat of violence and disorder as redress for imaginary grievances. It’s as predictable as the sunrise any time they don’t get their way.

Putting it straight

Not sure where I ran across this one—it’s been just sitting quietly on my desktop for days now, waiting for me to make some P-shop adjustments and then put it to good use here—and I can’t say I know who this Langan fellow might be, either. But I dunno, the part I highlighted in blue just tickled me no end.

Don’t hold back, Chris, tell us how you really feel.

3

Happy Columbus Day Victory Over Indigenous Peoples Day!

The straight dope about the man, facts they don’t teach in government schools.

The explorer Christopher Columbus made four trips across the Atlantic Ocean from Spain: in 1492, 1493, 1498 and 1502. He was determined to find a direct water route west from Europe to Asia, but he never did. Instead, he stumbled upon the Americas. Though he did not really “discover” the so-called New World—millions of people already lived there—his journeys marked the beginning of centuries of exploration and colonization of North and South America.

Christopher Columbus, the son of a wool merchant, is believed to have been born in Genoa, Italy, in 1451. When he was still a teenager, he got a job on a merchant ship. He remained at sea until 1476, when pirates attacked his ship as it sailed north along the Portuguese coast.

The boat sank, but the young Columbus floated to shore on a scrap of wood and made his way to Lisbon, where he eventually studied mathematics, astronomy, cartography and navigation. He also began to hatch the plan that would change the world forever.

At the end of the 15th century, it was nearly impossible to reach Asia from Europe by land. The route was long and arduous, and encounters with hostile armies were difficult to avoid. Portuguese explorers solved this problem by taking to the sea: They sailed south along the West African coast and around the Cape of Good Hope.

But Columbus had a different idea: Why not sail west across the Atlantic instead of around the massive African continent? The young navigator’s logic was sound, but his math was faulty. He argued (incorrectly) that the circumference of the Earth was much smaller than his contemporaries believed it was; accordingly, he believed that the journey by boat from Europe to Asia should be not only possible, but comparatively easy via an as-yet undiscovered Northwest Passage. 

He presented his plan to officials in Portugal and England, but it was not until 1492 that he found a sympathetic audience: the Spanish monarchs Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castile.

Columbus wanted fame and fortune. Ferdinand and Isabella wanted the same, along with the opportunity to export Catholicism to lands across the globe. (Columbus, a devout Catholic, was equally enthusiastic about this possibility.)

Columbus’ contract with the Spanish rulers promised that he could keep 10 percent of whatever riches he found, along with a noble title and the governorship of any lands he should encounter.

Today, Columbus has a controversial legacy—he is remembered as a daring and path-breaking explorer who transformed the New World, yet his actions also unleashed changes that would eventually devastate the native populations he and his fellow explorers encountered.

The consensus view on Columbus the man is, and has been for many years, that he was in fact something of a grubby, treacherous little prick. I like the guy anyway, though, seeing as how the mere mention of his name usually reduces shitlibs to frothing paroxysms of rage, almost all of it centered on the “genocide” he unleashed on “Native Americans,” ie, the Red Injun. But the fact is, Columbus never even set foot on what we today know as American soil, thus never “genocided” any American Injuns, nor even set eyes on one to my knowledge. More little-known facts, randomly plucked from both hither and yon. First, the hither:

3. He Was a Cheapskate
On his famous 1492 voyage, Columbus had promised a reward of gold to whoever saw land first. A sailor named Rodrigo de Triana was the first to see land on October 12, 1492: a small island in the present-day Bahamas Columbus named San Salvador. Poor Rodrigo never got the reward, however: Columbus kept it for himself, telling everyone he had seen a hazy sort of light the night before. He had not spoken up because the light was indistinct. Rodrigo may have gotten hosed, but there is a nice statue of him sighting land in a park in Seville.

4. Half of His Voyages Ended in Disaster
On Columbus’ famed 1492 voyage, his flagship the Santa Maria ran aground and sank, causing him to leave 39 men behind at a settlement named La Navidad. He was supposed to return to Spain loaded with spices and other valuable goods and knowledge of an important new trade route. Instead, he returned empty-handed and without the best of the three ships entrusted to him. On his fourth voyage, his ship rotted out from under him and he spent a year with his men marooned on Jamaica.

5. He Was a Terrible Governor
Grateful for the new lands he had found for them, the King and Queen of Spain made Columbus governor in the newly-established settlement of Santo Domingo. Columbus, who was a fine explorer, turned out to be a lousy governor. He and his brothers ruled the settlement like kings, taking most of the profits for themselves and antagonizing the other settlers. Although Columbus instructed his settlers to make sure that the Tainos on Hispaniola be protected, during his frequent absences, the settlers rampaged the villages, robbing, raping, and enslaving. Disciplinary actions by Columbus and his brother were met with open revolt.

It got so bad that the Spanish crown sent an investigator, who took over as governor, arrested Columbus, and sent him back to Spain in chains. The new governor was far worse.

8. He Never Believed He Had Found a New World
Columbus was looking for a new passage to Asia… and that’s just what he found, or so he said until his dying day. In spite of mounting facts that seemed to indicate that he had discovered lands previously unknown, he continued to believe that Japan, China and the court of the Great Khan were very close to the lands he had discovered. Isabella and Ferdinand knew better: the geographers and astronomers they consulted knew the world was spherical and estimated that Japan was 12,000 miles from Spain (correct if you go by ship heading eastward from Bilbao), while Columbus held out for 2,400 miles.

According to biographer Washington Irving (1783–1859), Columbus even proposed a ridiculous theory for the discrepancy: that the Earth was shaped like a pear, and that he had not found Asia because of the part of the pear that bulges out towards the stem. At court, it was the width of the ocean westward that was in question, not the shape of the world. Fortunately for Columbus, the Bahamas was located about the distance he expected to find Japan.

By the end of his life, he was a laughingstock in Europe because of his stubborn refusal to accept the obvious.

Next, the yon:

7. He was stranded in Jamaica
When Columbus sailed for the New World for the last time, shipworms gnawed parts of his fleet, forcing him to abandon two ships and land on modern-day Jamaica. He and his crew were stranded, but the native Arawak Indians welcomed them and fed them for months.

8. A lunar eclipse saved Columbus in Jamaica
As months dragged on, Columbus’ crew mutinied, robbed and murdered some of the Arawaks. To quell the chaos, Columbus pretended to bring down the wrath of God. He had a copy of an astronomical almanac, which predicts a total lunar eclipse. Three days before the celestial event, Columbus requested an audience with the Arawak chief, saying that his God was angry for the lack of provisions for his men and that he would send a sign of his displeasure.

True enough, the moon turned a blood-red colour and terrified the natives. The Arawaks asked Columbus to intercede, promising to provide for them if his God restores the moon. Columbus pretended to pray in his cabin and emerged only when the eclipse has subsided. The Arawaks then provided for them until a caravel from Hispaniola arrived to fetch them.

9. Columbus didn’t prove that the Earth was round
Many credit the discovery of a round Earth to Columbus, but he wasn’t the first to prove it. Humans have known that the Earth was round since ancient Greece, so this wasn’t a surprising fact, even for Christopher Columbus. The Greeks observed the movements of the sun and other planetary properties to conclude that the Earth was a sphere. What he wanted to do was to create a sea route across the Atlantic towards Asia.

11. He miscalculated the Earth’s circumference
It’s a little-known fact that Christopher Columbus had many miscalculations during his journeys. He underestimated the circumference of the Earth by 25%. Also, his estimate of the naval distance to Marco Polo’s great port of Cathay was inaccurate.

12. His famous ships had nicknames
Columbus’ ships are known as Niña, Pinta and Santa Maria, but the first two are likely nicknames. In Columbus’ time, it was custom to name ships after saints and then give them a simpler moniker. The real name of Niña was Santa Clara, while Santa Maria’s nickname was La Gallega, after Galicia, where it was built. Pinta’s real name is unknown.

17. His death caused three decades of legal proceedings
When Columbus died, his heirs filed lawsuits known as the Pleitos colombinos against the Crown of Castile and Leon to assert the rewards for discovering the New World for Spain. Legal proceedings lasted three decades until the Crown granted honorific titles to Columbus’ grandson.

Whatever his personal flaws and failings, Christopher Columbus was inarguably a most intriguing man, as all great explorers tend to be. My own fondness for him dates back to my NYC days, when every Fall the annual controversy over the Columbus Day Parade would predictably erupt like a modern-day Mt Vesuvius. In one corner: Kid Shitlib, spluttering hysterically for all the stale reasons you’d expect. In the other: Dago Red, who had long since adopted Columbus as the symbolic Trevi Fountain from whence springs all Italian-American heritage, history, and pride.

Oh, but the yearly battle over the big Columbus Day Parade was epic, with Kid Shitlib rope-a-doping in hopes of permanently ending this shameful celebration of racism, imperialism, slavery, and genocide through legal and political maneuvering. Meanwhile, the pugnacious Dago Red would charge doggedly straight into the fray, vowing that if the City didn’t fund, manage, and endorse the shindig officially this year, they’d do it all themselves and to hell with everybody. Which, I’m sure they would have at that, if only for spite, and more power to ’em.

On the glorious day itself, the Eyeties would emerge en masse from their Mulberry Street enclave to march alongside the Parade as it wound its way along Fifth Ave, their backs straight and jaws jutting in open challenge to the shitlib pussies to man up and start some shit. The shitlibs, in keeping with their own rich Columbus Day tradition, would limit expression of their disapproval and protest to weeping piteously in terror, pleading for mercy from the intimidating Wop palookas enjoying the parade, flapping their noodle-like arms in frustration, then speedily retiring further uptown to take part in the annual public beat-off contest on the steps of Saint Ignatius Loyola church.

Yep, those were the days alright.

Update! Because OF COURSE he did.

On Monday, Ron DeSantis did something which surely steamed the Left.

Again.

Florida’s governor signed a proclamation honoring Columbus Day.

“Columbus Day commemorates the life and legacy of the Italian explorer who made Europeans conscious of the existence of the New World,” he observed, “and whose travels opened the door for the development of European settlements in the Western Hemisphere, which would ultimately lead to the establishment of the United States of America.”

That ain’t even the half of it, as you will find out when you click on over and read the rest.

4

The greatest news item in the history of EVER

Medals of Honor all around, I think. Silver Stars at the very least.

Confederate Flag Raised, US and German Flags Stolen at 2nd Cavalry Regiment Headquarters
GRAFENWOEHR, Germany — Military police are investigating after a Confederate flag was found flying from a flagpole outside 2nd Cavalry Regiment headquarters Monday and removed upon discovery, Army officials said.

An American flag and a German flag also were stolen from inside the headquarters building in Vilseck sometime between Sunday night and Monday morning by an unknown person, regiment spokesman Maj. John Ambelang said.

The incident at Rose Barracks, which is home to a regiment of about 4,800 soldiers, comes more than a year after the Defense Department effectively banned the Confederate flags and other symbols deemed divisive from public display on military bases.

“The regiment takes this misconduct very seriously,” Ambelang said in a statement. “Should the culprit be identified, the command will take appropriate action after considering all the facts surrounding the incident.”

I already told ya what the appropriate action ought to be. Sadly, the Maje is probably not in concurrence with my own view.

Commanders across the regiment conveyed the seriousness of the situation to soldiers at a morning formation, the statement said.

Neither the theft nor the display of the Confederate battle flag align with the Army’s values, Ambelang said.

In today’s New Weak-Ass Timorous Mincing Dick-Chopper Army, I rather suspect they don’t at that. Which, actually, is just jakesey-jooksey with me. The mere thought of contemporary “soldiers” happily discoing the night away within close proximity to my sacred Confederate Battle Flag brings the bilious gorge surging up my esophagus uncontrollably. Not that modern soldiery would dream of doing any such thing, of course; they’d more likely faint dead away at the first scarifying sight of such a hateful relic flying proudly in open defiance of everything they represent.

If the culprit of this Hate Crime had run up the LGBTQRXP39BRRMSSST&%$#@ Rainbow Flag of Free Love And Harmony instead, though—why, just think of the dot-mil dance party they’d throw in celebration of the glorious event. All the exemplary You-Ess Sojers now bringing down physical-fitness standards across all service branches would be there for sure, such as:

  • Flabby, flubbery, Cheetoh dust-encrusted gamerduuude PVT Ethan Pissboy: Hunched in desperate supplication to a God whose existence he scoffs at praying that nobody catches sight of him in the darkest outer corner of the quad, lest the decidedly unpleasant and mortifying experience of a forcible pantsing, followed by having an entire family-sized bottle of Absorbine Jr sloshed over his shriveled nutsack by his more exuberant squadmates be repeated yet again
  • Terrifying, steroid-inflated bull dagger SFC Philippa “Knucksy” Flatrocker: Probably the closest approximation of a real man on the whole base, and certainly the only one who could perhaps contribute anything remotely useful in combat conditions
  • CPT Buck Turgidson: Peering through the slats of his barely-open blinds in shock and disbelief at the Fellini-esque Sabbat of sexual degeneracy, full-spectrum insobriety, rampant flouting of the very concept of military bearing, and general witless displays of Conduct Unbecoming going on just outside his office window, goggle-eyed in heartbroken wonder at what the hell the stupid PC bastards have done to the once-respectable US Army he served faithfully and well for nearly 30 years, as he’s absently running his fingers over the retirement/resignation forms he finds himself pulling from his file cabinet more and more frequently these days
  • COL Upsuck T Grabass: Always seen with his overlarge staff of cringing rumpswabs in close trail as he paces frenetically about the grounds, scouting everywhere for the location of the next rung up on the careerist ladder
  • BRIG GEN Shontavius Cumquat Mohammed Isaiah McCorkle Jr VII: Nobody dares call De Gen’rill Suh an affirmation-action hire, but they’re all thinking it, since that’s exactly what he is: incompetent, unintelligent, in way over his head, yet nonetheless arrogant, conceited, unyieldingly convinced that 1) not only is he one of the very best flag officers of his generation, he is also 2) eminently deserving of even higher rank, which he has been unfairly denied him—not because he is in reality a ham-handed jackass who didn’t so much claw his way up to his present position as he firmly believes, but was pushed from behind so as to duly check a box on some government “diversity” form—entirely because of the Army’s “systemic racism”; De Gen’rill Suh is visibly contemptuous, even downright abusive, of the harried subordinates who must constantly interpose themselves into the narrow divide between the “General” bizarre orders and plans and the utter disaster which can be their only result, their selfless sense of duty thereby preventing a far better soldier than he’ll ever be from winding up injured or killed because of his muttonheaded blundering

These are but a few examples of the New Model Army types being actively sought and sworn in as “improvements” on the unevolved, anachronistic Warrior-Class throwbacks our Betters wish to retire, then write out of the history books. Which, hey, fine by me. When things do go fully pear-shaped at last, I’d much rather face the delicate, mentally-unstable Gender Befuddled, assorted neurotic freaks, and whining, whey-faced boy-men attached to Stop SHOUTING At Me Company, First Pansy Battalion, 35th Perfectly Painted Toenails Brigade than have to go up against the hard-handed, experienced dogfaces they’re shoving out.

(Via Divemedic)

6
5
1

Local color

Even though I’m not their biggest fan by any stretch, I still love this.

Stop us if you’ve heard this one, but rock-and-roll royalty Mick Jagger walks into a dive bar in Charlotte, North Carolina, and no one seems to notice. According to the Rolling Stone frontman’s Twitter account, that’s just what happened last night at the iconic Thirsty Beaver Saloon. Jagger stands in front of the storied establishment, sipping a beer, and the other customers aren’t even looking in his direction. “Out and about last night in Charlotte, NC,” the post reads.

The Rolling Stones play the Bank of America stadium this evening, so presumably Jagger had some time to kill last night and grabbed a brew at the Plaza Midwood bar. The Thirsty Beaver is an unpretentious establishment well known for refusing to sell to developers building up the area. The tiny bar is now surrounded massive apartment complexes, looking much like the house from the Pixar film Up.

The Thirsty Beaver has been a fixture of the neighborhood since 2008 and remains a spot for live music, cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon, and folks having conversations with their friends and neighbors — and a the occasionally international rock star.

Here’s a pic Tweeted by Jagger his own self:


Further deets, followed by an explanation for why I’m even posting on this in the first place.

He looked like any other ball-cap clad, jeans-wearing North Carolinian as he stood at a high-table and quaffed a brew at one of Charlotte’s most famous dive bars Wednesday night.

No adoring fans to shrug off, no security guards by his side as Rolling Stones front man Mick Jagger enjoyed the night air on the patio of the Thirsty Beaver Saloon on Central Avenue.

Several other patrons seated at a nearby table and bench seemed to ignore the rock ‘n’ roll icon. They looked the other way as someone snapped a photo that Jagger later sent onto Instagram and Twitter.

“Out and about last night in Charlotte NC,” Jagger wrote.

Did Jagger rent out the bar, and were those “patrons” his crew?

“Absolutely not,” Brian Wilson, co-owner of The Thirsty Beaver, told The Charlotte Observer on Thursday.

Turns out, the four or five patrons pictured in Jagger’s photo had no idea it was him, Wilson said.

The bar had no advance notice that Jagger would drop by, and even the bartender had no clue it was him when she served him a beer, Wilson said.

Jagger appeared to be drinking a Miller Lite or a “Mick Ultra,” err, Michelob Ultra, but Wilson said he didn’t know yet what brand the rock star ordered.

Wilson had already gone home to put his young daughter to bed when Jagger showed up at about 10 p.m., he said.

Now, among the several things that make this so amusing to me is the fact that I know the Beaver and Brian quite well. Admittedly, the Beaver has never been a preferred hangout of mine, which isn’t so much that there’s anything in particular wrong with the joint, mind. It’s more because it gets so dang elbow-to-elbow packed on the weekends. I just never could deal with that. Doesn’t stop most of my friends from flocking there, especially on their Sunday afternoon biker gatherings.

Brian and his brother have a band that has done shows with my own plenty of times over the years, and Bri is a-okay with me, although there was some mild to moderate aggro from his brother towards me for a while there that I never really understood but which seems now to have abated, near as I can tell. Whatever the problem might have been, it was something I never even tried to figure out; if you’re hoping to find someone who’ll tell you I’m a grade-A prick and an asshole, you won’t have to look very hard or long before you do.

That never has bothered me, and never will; as the frontman of a fairly well-known band, I accepted that sort of hassle from the earliest days as just part of the game. My feeling was and remains that a person fragile enough to let such silliness get under his skin is a person who has absolutely no business ever setting foot on a stage in the first damned place. Show biz is NOT known for being kind to the delicate, the diffident, or the uncertain. An iron, unshakable confidence is a non-negotiable requirement of the job, any deficiency or even momentary flagging of which Show Biz will immediately seize upon and use to viciously beat you with, until you’re stone cold dead.

Anyhoo, the Wilson boys have another place on Monroe Rd across from Lupies: the Tipsy Burrow, which I like a lot better than the Beaver, having a lot more room to move around unmolested as it does. Really good food at the Burrow too, which the Beaver doesn’t offer at all. Onwards.

Wilson said he could only guess that someone suggested Thirsty Beaver because Jagger would be able to drink in peace there, given its typically eclectic mix of patrons who would likely leave such a musical legend alone.

“Everybody’s used to it being an eclectic place,” Wilson said.

But Mick Jagger??

Wilson said his bartender that night has come in for some good-natured ribbing.

“C’mon, Hayley, the greatest rock ‘n’ roll legend of all time?”

Heh. Hayley is a friend too, as it happens.

Years ago, Wilson said, Eric Clapton visited the now-defunct Double Door Inn music venue in Charlotte.

Yep, he did. Remember that Double Door business, gang. You will be seeing that material again.

“And we got Mick Jagger, so I think we did all right.”

Retired Observer sports columnist Tom Sorensen devilishly replied with a reference to another Stones hit.

“@MickJagger A man of wealth and taste,” Sorensen wrote.

Known Tom for many years as well. He was a colleague and friend of the band’s manager, Mike Evans, before Mike inexplicably decided to ruin his life by up and quitting his cushy, well-remunerated Charlotte Disturber sinecure to wantonly ravage his bank balance, his liver, and his personal reputation via going into the music biz.

I swear, it’s beginning to seem like Old Home week up in here, ain’t it?

On to the Double Door. Clapton did indeed famously show up and play a set there back in 1982, after headlining a concert at the old Coliseum on Independence, I believe. Now, by the late 80s the Double Door Inn had forged a stellar reputation for itself as one of the premier stops on what you might call the chitlin’ circuit for old-school trad blues bands. Autographed band photos covering every wall testify to a roster of legendary alumni that really has to be seen to be believed: Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown; Junior Walker; Levon Helm; JJ Cale; The Fabulous Thunderbirds; and even Stevie Ray Vaughan, to name but a few.

And, beginning in late 1989, the DDI also became the home base for a fledgling local RAB outfit yclept the Belmont Playboys. Owned and operated by a soft-spoken but savvy Greek feller name of Nick Karres, the place was blessed with a warm, clear, full-throated sound both onstage and off, so good I’d put it in the top two or three best out of all the places I’ve played. There was even a documentary movie made about the Dirty Floor, including footage from the final show before it shut down. Yes, the BPs are in it.

And now we come to it at long last. See, Jagger is by no means the only instance of world-renowned rock and roll royalty gracing a local institution on the QT. During the Southeastern leg of their Black Ice tour, a certain little band from Australia you may have heard of settled themselves in for a couple weeks hereabouts, putting out from CLT for several shows ranging from Raleigh down to ATL. And on their days off, the boys got into the habit of dropping in at a certain legendary blues venue in the late afternoon/early evening for the daily Jeopardy Happy Hour ritual to restore the tissues and recharge the batteries via quaffing a cold one or three amongst the handful of grizzled regulars.

I didn’t learn about AC/DC’s daily pilgrimage to the DDI until well after the fact, which enraged me so thorougly I immediately called Nick to scream sundry epithets in his ear, all based around the “WHY THE HELL DIDN’T YOU TELL ME…” theme, until I was hoarse and out of breath. I can’t remember any specifics of Nick’s response, other than a gruff laugh and a “Idunno,” which I see to this day in my mind’s eye accompanied by his characteristic apathetic shrug.

I don’t care about missing Mick’s visit, honestly. But missing the chance to kick casually back with Angus, Malcolm, and Brian to share a friendly tipple and a few road-dog stories frosts my nuts blue to this very day. I’ve told Nick again and again that I’ll never forgive him for it, and by God I mean it, too.

4

Despite everything, the heart of freedom is still beating

Two Tweets too good to resist swiping.


Red China? Sheeeit, Gov, Australia is making North Korea look like a bastion of liberty by comparison. The OzNazis have raised the bar on tyranny so high it may NEVER be exceeded. At least, I HOPE it won’t; I’ll probably end up disappointed on that. Thankfully, this next one provides a hopeful counterpoint.


Looks like at least some in Italy haven’t forgotten the lesson of Mussolini just yet.

1

Somebody stop the pain

Remember, folks, THESE are the people we let steal our country from us.

No, really, I’m serious. THESE people.

It’s driving me insane. My wife and I have been married for a few years, and throughout our marriage we’ve always been monogamous. About 6 months ago she mentioned the idea of bringing in another man into the relationship to spice things up. I hesitantly agreed. We found a guy on Craigslist. It was actually pretty fun at first. Liberating, even. The three of us often had dinner together, watched movies, played games, etc. The sexual stuff stayed separate (although admittingly I feel like I started getting less…that’s outside the scope of this post though).

Fast forward to Mid-November. I make a joke at the dinner table about how finally the fucking cheeto is going to be out of office. The new boyfriend, who’s always been nice to me, told me to “shut the fuck up you fucking liberal pussy”. I was taking aback by his sudden anger. He’s much larger than me so I admittedly just looked at my wife as a plea for help. She just continued eating trying to act like nothing was going on.

Now, I don’t claim to be an expert or anything, not at all. But I’m thinking that right there just might have been the exact moment you lost her.

I did not know he was a Trump supporter. He even made a joke about him in the past, but he proceeded to tell me that he voted for him.

Long story short, after he had left for the night, I told the wife that we can’t associate with him (for obvious reasons). This is where it got bad. She defended HIM and told ME that I was being DISRESPECTFUL for not understanding that some people have different political views!!! I kept insisting that he’s a white supremacist and a racist and she said he wasn’t. My wife has always been very liberal and anti-trump just like me but now she’s defending the fucker. I told her we were done if she doesn’t stop seeing him…after a few days of fighting, and her continuously saying things would be fine, I packed up and left, thinking she’d finally comply.

Now, I’ve driven by the house a few times and his pickup truck is always parked there. In fact, I THINK HE FUCKING MOVED IN.

what the FUCK do I do now?

I see but one way out of this for you, pal: kill yourself. Do not waste another moment. Kill your wife, kill your wife’s bull, and then kill yourself. Do it now—right the fuck now. There MUST be an absolute bloodbath at your house, immediately, without further delay. This little circlejerk of yours is being conducted by a passel of miserable, useless oxygen thieves, and the fact is that you all have simply got to GO. Make the world a better place, for yourselves and for everybody else, in the only way you can or ever will do: by LEAVING it.

Trust me.

Via Ace, who guffaws in this pathetic, contemptible little queef’s anguished face thusly:

Note this isn’t his ex-wife. No, this is his current wife, who he lives with.

Or lived with, at least. Until she started banging this Trump supporter.

He’s in a polyamorous relationship. He lets his wife sleep with other men.

And he’s mad about two things:

1, His wife’s new boyfriend voted for Trump, and

2, He’s sick of all of his wife’s boyfriends’ drinking buddies calling him a cvck!

Okay, I made up that last one, but you know that must bother him.

If the shoe fits, wear it.

8

What’s to be done?

Lots and lots.

Become ungovernable.

This has been tried before. Face facts: Half the reason Communism doesn’t work is because it’s Communism.

The other half is because the people – the very “workers” communists claim to represent, as a dodge to milk everyone – aren’t communists. Proof: Russia pushed Nazi Germany from the outskirts of Moscow all the way back to Berlin. That’s what Ivan can do when he wants to. But in peacetime? You get the Trabant.

So stop wishing and hoping, or pissing and moaning. Throw Leviathan and its acolytes a bone. But throw it sideways, so it gets stuck in its throat, and it dies a slow, lingering, painful death.

What do I mean?

Monkeywrench. Hard, far, and wide. And often.

Manhole covers are portable, for instance. Store them behind the local DNC offices.

Road crew left a few blinky light barricades just sitting around? No problem. Close off an interstate entrance. Make an endless circular detour.

Epoxy an ATM closed. Better yet, a few dozen parking meters near city hall.

Get a slingshot or a high velocity pellet gun, and take out a surveillance camera or three.

The list of, umm, extracurricular activities (all strictly notional, Officer—just a little idle woolgathering strictly for entertainment purposes, no one has any serious intention of actually doing this stuff for real, of course!) is expansive, but hardly comprehensive. The possibilities are limited only by one’s imagination, and how far one is willing to hang it out there in order to jam somebody’s works.

I have firsthand experience of one such tactic myself. I worked at a bar in NYC way back when (Babyland, that would be; any Noo Yawkers in the audience might even remember the joint) that had a problem for a couple of weeks there. Not long after I started the job, a disgruntled former employee who had been recently dismissed with extreme prejudice adopted the habit of Supergluing the padlocks (2 of ’em) on the drop-gate in the wee hours of the night. Now, I’ve never once known Superglue to be effective at anything other than gluing my own fingers together. But as it turns out, the stuff does a bang-up job when it comes to ganking up the expensive American locks that pretty much every business on the LES uses. So the diabolical strategem worked a treat this time.

Every damned day the opening bartender (me, most days) and miscellaneous other staff would be unable to get the key into the locks, and so had to call the boss-lady for help getting inside. Boss-lady, in turn, had to call a locksmith to come out and unfuck the damned things, which usually had to be cut with a torch, and were thereby rendered unsalvagable. Which meant that every damned day the bar opened way late, since what would ordinarily have been setup/prep time was spent standing around freezing our asses off waiting for the locksmith to arrive. Which artist would then fumble around for a while in an effort to keep from junking the ruined lock using all kinds of chemical sprays, picks, and other such, none of which ever worked.

Eventually, the ‘smith would concede defeat, break out the torch from his ditty bag, cut the damned things, and we’d be in at last. While all this drama was unfolding, off Deb (Deb Parker, that would be, a very well-known and successful entrepreneur who I hear is out in Vegas these days) would go to purchase another pair of fifty-dollar-apiece padlocks. Next morn, the cycle would begin anew.

The boss felt confident she knew who the perp was and the motive behind these serial outrages, even going so far as to recruit a brace of NYPD detectives—one of whom happened to be a close friend of hers—for an off-the-books consultation. But the evidence was insufficient to warrant police action, the sabotage stopped after about two weeks, and life went on.

So yeah, in this film script we’re communally head-shedding on here, I can assure one and all that the Superglue ploy would definitely be a credible plot device. In a movie, I mean. If somebody was making one, like. Certainly not something to ever contemplate doing in real life, Agent. Not ever. No way. Because that would be wrong.

Am I free to go now?

5

Laying low

Correia is back with another thorough ass-reaming for some richly-deserving sphincters.

WHERE HAVE ALL THE BIDEN VOTERS GONE?
Where have all my Biden supporting friends gone? I remember last year my feed was full of people who proudly supported Biden/Harris, because Orange Man Bad, and a Return To Norms, and No More Mean Tweets. Where are you now?

I’m not talking about the internet rando strangers who inevitably show up to scream the day’s narrative at everybody who doesn’t toe their line. Those people might as well be bots. They don’t matter. Nobody cares what they say. I’m talking about the real life human beings, I usually know somehow outside of the internet. I could always count on you to stroll in to tell me I was stupid and needed to “think for myself” and “get educated” by watching CNN and automatically believing everything on it like you do.

Where are you?

Last year you wouldn’t shut about how all the evidence of Joe Biden’s corruption and incompetence was Fake News, and then you got me kicked off the internet for talking about a laptop filled with incriminating evidence (which turned out to be real, and only one of many that crackhead lost). And you were legion a few short months ago, while you barked at me that voter fraud was impossible and audits unnecessary, so shut up.

Then finally, last week, the evil, feckless, incompetent, unserious, fucking clown show that was this administration became too obvious for even you to make excuses for it.

We’ve already seen the bullshit narratives from the pundit class repeated by their useful idiots who might as well be bots, about how this was Trump’s fault (even if it was his plan, which it clearly wasn’t, it doesn’t answer why Biden didn’t come up with something better) or how if we didn’t want a total clusterfuck of an ass backwards withdrawal then we must be in favor of eternal war… but I haven’t seen any of you bravely carry that water like you can usually be counted on to do so.

I’ve seen a few of you try for some namby-pamby moral equivalence, about how surely the withdrawal would have been just as bad with the other guy in charge, except that’s just bullshit, theoretical wishful thinking on your part. And we all know it.

I’m not going to rehash all the many screw ups on this particular operation. Been done, a lot, by people who know a lot more about the topic than I do. If you aren’t aware of just how badly this administration fucked up by this point, you’re just being willfully ignorant. And it’s not even done yet. The unconfirmed shit coming out today, if true, is far, far worse. It’s a blood bath, and we don’t even have a clue how many Americans have been abandoned.

So where have you gone, my lefty friends? Where are the NeverTrump republicans who endorsed Biden because he was such a “statesman”? Who would make the world respect us again? Now the world is either disgusted by us or laughing at us. We left our allies hanging so badly that Biden got censured by fucking Parliament.

Are you silent out of embarrassment? Shame? Guilt?

Good.

You should be. Because you fucking own this.

Enjoy the relative peace and quiet while it lasts, everybody. I imagine they’re going to go all noisy and annoying again as we’re stuffing them into woodchippers in job lots. For a few seconds, anyway.

4

Oh, snap!

Another good Tucker bitch-slap.

CARLSON: So on its way out of Afghanistan, the Biden administration left behind an awful lot of Americans but also nearly $90 billion in military equipment. How much is that? Well, only two countries on the planet have a military budget larger, China and the United States. So, the Taliban now have the best-equipped military of its size in the history of the world.

What do they have? Well, according to a tally by The Times of London, the Taliban just received more than 22,000 Humvees, more than 50,000 trucks, and other armored vehicles, as well as a sizable Air Force. It comes with four C-130 transport planes, dozens of other fixed-wing aircraft, and up to 350 combat helicopters. The Taliban now has more Blackhawks than many developed nations, and those are just the vehicles.

Taliban soldiers also got more than 350,000 American rifles, 126,000 handguns, and approximately 64,000 heavy machine guns. It’s quite an arsenal. It’s all at your expense.

It’s a disaster, obviously, but it also makes for a striking contrast with what is happening in this country. At the very moment, the White House is arming our new friends, the Taliban. They are working hard to disarm you.

Whether or not it makes the news, it is happening. The administration just announced quietly. It is banning some of the most commonly purchased ammunition in the United States. This move will certainly and intentionally lead to severe shortages in this country. That’s why they did it.

Joe Biden himself has said repeatedly, he would like to prevent you from owning the firearms that most Americans use to defend themselves and their families, and those efforts are now accelerating.

So how about this as an answer? No. You’re not allowed to give more than half a million guns to the Taliban, guns that we paid for, and then try and take our guns away in this country. Sorry, that’s not how it works. So, shut up and back off.

Not one more word about gun control from these people until they get back every single rifle from Kandahar. That is the rule.

You gotta love it, which I do. At the same time, it becomes more apparent every day that you gotta be ready to back it up too. And I don’t mean with voting, lawsuits, and/or snappy quips, either. Gonna take something quite a bit more concrete than that, I’m afraid.

1

The lion donkey lays down with the lamb pit bull

Remember the other day when I told y’all that pit bulls were the absolute best dogs on Earth? I was NOT just winding my watch, y’know.


Two soul-enriching pittie vids in the same week calls for the rerun of a few pics of the last dog I will ever own: my beloved Cookie Monster, late and more lamented than you could possibly imagine.

One of the late Cookie with my late wife, who originally picked her out to bring home. Over my objections, fool that I was.

One just as proof that pitties really ARE sweet dogs capable of getting along with just about anybody.

Finally, my absolute all-time favorite of old Kookie-Kook. So somber, so dignified, so noble she makes Walter Cronkite look like a goddamned drunken fratboy.

Vidya via Ace. For all you animal-fanciers out there, if you aren’t a subscriber to The Dodo’s YT critter-vid channel, you’re really missing out on something good.

6

“Cruel and unusual”? Naaaaaah

Bring back the stocks. Among other needful things.

The coronavirus has given politicians new opportunities to project the power of government, and it has given us new opportunities to observe politicians breaking their own rules. Few things are as vile and contemptible as the hypocrisy of the ruling class.

We recall that House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-Calif.), during the lockdowns, had her hairdresser open up her shop for a private, maskless salon treatment. Senator Dianne Feinstein (D-Calif.) was photographed at Dulles airport in September without her mask, shortly before she flew out on her husband’s $50 million Gulfstream jet. John Kerry took his mask off on a plane, and he was flying commercial—first class. Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) was maskless on the streets of New York City last year, where he was gratifyingly heckled by a fearless New Yorker as his entire entourage and the press corps and even the heckler were wearing their masks. Rhode Island Governor Gina Raimondo (D) wore a mask for the interview in which she tried to explain why she was seen without a mask at a bar after closing bars and telling everyone to wear a mask. Michigan Governor Gretchen Whitmer (D) traveled to visit family in Florida after telling everyone to avoid nonessential travel. Austin, Texas Mayor Steve Adler (D) also told people to stay home—while on vacation in Cabo San Lucas (he apologized, and said he wouldn’t do it again, but there was this wedding he really needed to attend). And over the weekend, photos surfaced of Barack Obama’s lavish, huge, and non-socially distanced birthday celebration on Martha’s Vineyard, as the rest of the country is being threatened with a renewed mask mandate and other restrictions.

After listing several international examples of same, we come to a suggested remedy worthy of serious consideration.

All these incidents serve to remind us what an exceptionally luxurious, frivolous, out-of-touch, one-percent-of-the-one-percent life is led by the politicians who tell us to be patient with losing our businesses or being forced to stay home from work. Their hypocrisy, their abuse of political power, should be a crime. Perhaps not a capital crime. But it does deserve something beyond a fine.

Oh, I’m perfectly fine with making them capital crimes, myself; if nothing else, all possibility of recidivism would be eliminated. But hey, maybe that’s just me.

Politicians who abuse their power should be put in the stocks. Money means nothing to the super-rich and super-powerful, and they will never serve jail time. But Nancy Pelosi would long remember being forced to sit in the stocks for a day outside the hair salon she had opened just for her. Gavin Newsom might learn a thing or two from having to look up at the people who walk by him while he has his feet up outside the French Laundry.

The point of the stocks was to humiliate people—not as an end, but with the intention of reforming their behavior. In 2004, a mail thief was ordered to stand outside the San Francisco Post Office for eight hours wearing a sign that read: “I stole mail. This is my punishment.” The Ninth U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals upheld this sentence, inasmuch as the humiliation served the purpose of making the culprit a better citizen.

Nothing else would be so effective or work so quickly in cutting these political big shots down to the size of ordinary people. It would force power-abusing politicians to do what they hate most—be confronted by their voters. Perhaps any politician who serves more than two terms should be put in the stocks for one day every year as a reminder of the basic loathsomeness of his profession. It might be easier than passing national term limits.

Politicians should be compelled in every respect, as much as possible, to live like ordinary, average, people. When they abuse their power, they should be treated far worse than average people, because their power and responsibility is so much greater. Politicians seem to think they deserve special treatment—and they do: Set them in the stocks. Not for long. Just for as long as it takes for them to learn their lessons.

Again: not harsh enough to suit me, not by a long yard. If “let the punishment fit the crime” is to be our standard, then full weight must be given to the innumerable lives ruined, the businesses destroyed, the human misery created, and the fortunes lost or stolen because of the actions of the career-politician class. That can only mean that leaving ’em stocked and subject to public abuse and humiliation until they’re well and truly broken, in body, mind, and spirit, is the way to go. “Learning their lessons” will never be adequate to the task; they never will, it’s completely beyond them.

Personally, I think even the stocks are insufficiently “cruel and unusual” for such despicable toads. If we truly intend to balance the scales of justice as compensation to the victims for all the harm politicians have inflicted, we should also consider bringing back, say, the Brank:

The device was a metal cage or mask that enclosed the head, often with ridiculous adornments designed to humiliate its victim. In some towns, the Brank had a bell attached to its rear only to announce the presence of the victim who was instantly mocked by the people she “endangered” through gossip.

Many variants of the Brank appeared throughout the Middle Ages, some included spikes that penetrated the victim’s flesh when she spoke.

The duration of this torture could range from a few hours, to months. In some cases, the victim was left to die with the Brank; if she ever removed it, she’d be tortured with another method and sometimes killed.

NOW we’re getting somewhere. Among the many other options which also merit looking into would be the Rack, the Breaking Wheel, the Thumbscrews, and my all-time favorite, the Judas Chair:

Also known as the Judas Chair, the Chair of Torture was a terrible device of the Middle Ages. It was used until the late 1800’s in Europe.

There are many variants of the chair. They all have one thing in common: spikes cover the back, arm-rests, seat, leg-rests and foot-rests. The number of spikes in one of these chairs ranges from 500 to 1,500.

To avoid movement, the victim’s wrists were tied to the chair or, in one version, two bars pushed the arms against arm-rests for the spikes to penetrate the flesh even further. In some versions, there were holes under the chair’s bottom where the torturer placed coal to cause severe burns while the victim still remained conscious.

This instrument’s strength lies primarily in the psychological fear caused on the victims. It was a common practice to extract a confession by forcing the victim to watch someone else be tortured with this instrument.

The time of death greatly varied ranging from a few hours to a day or more. No spike penetrated any vital organ and the wound was closed by the spike itself which delayed blood loss greatly.

Ingenius, and just the thing to instill the proper fear into the malificent buggers. One of these placed in a prominent position in both Congressional chambers, the Oval Office, and the Supreme Court could go a long way towards rectifying our problems. One in every state’s Governor’s Mansion, situated so that every last elected and appointed bureauweasel had to walk right by the thing multiple times each and every working day, would probably fix the whole mess practically overnight.

After that, restore the lost art of pistols at dawn on the Field of Honor to full legal status and we’d have ourselves a civilization worthy of the name again.

4
4

Spark up!

You goddamned sickly, frail-ass nonsmoker feebs are Killing Grandma.

Occasionally I train courses on using self-contained breathing apparatus for fire fighting and the like, known as SCBA or simply BA in industry. The course is a lot of fun to teach, particularly as I drill my students in a way that inspires some of them to regularly ask me what I did in the military – (NOTHING. I was never in the military but maybe I should have been. But the way the world’s going there’s probably plenty of opportunities coming up.)

One of my little joys in that course is when we get to the subject of air consumption rates. For example, if you’re unfit you will use more air than the fit guy. If you’re scared you will use more air than the relaxed guy. And if you’re throwing gas cylinders over a fence to stop them from exploding in a fire then you’ll chew through a 6 litre 300bar cylinder in about nine minutes flat. Don’t ask me how I know that.

And then I ask the question of the room – is anyone here a smoker? And there is the inevitable groan and then the smokers will raise their hands, some sheepishly, but most with a look on their face that goes something along the lines of, “we get it, you’re about to tell us that we’re doomed because we smoke, blah blah blah, we don’t care anymore.”

And that’s when I drop the bomb and inform them that smokers in general have better air consumption rates because they have habituated their lungs to use less air. Talk about a room perking up! You see the sheer joy in their faces. There’s nothing like getting a room full of tough offshore workers who smoke on your side with one sentence. Well, maybe there is but I need to get out more.

Heh. Well, these days we’re one of the very last minorities that it’s considered not just okay but positively virtuous to persecute. But here’s the really fun part.

I found various parts of this interesting but none more than one of the proposed cures for the S1 spike protein.
Nicotine. Who told you the other day that smoking is cool?

Ivermectin kills the virus, Statins prevent the S1 protein presenting Monocytes from attaching to your cells, and several drugs (including nicotine) can induce monocyte apoptosis. When the S1 presenting Non-Classical monocytes undergo apoptosis, the S1 protein is destroyed, and the nano clotting, inflammation, etc. go away. This is also why smokers have been shown to test positive for COVID symptoms 80% less than the general population, the nicotine effectively renders them immune to the effects of the S1 protein, and thus most of COVID’s symptoms.

Well, how about that then? Poor smokers have been maligned for over twenty years as the outright lepers of our so civilized societies. Now it turns out that smoking is not just a nice hit, not just a great brain stimulant and not just downright cool; it’s also positively brimming with health features.

Just one more positive that I can add to my BA course next time with the lads. Pretty soon those nasty medical companies will be begging us smokers to come back. Nah, she’ll be right, ya dropkicks. We don’t need ya. We’re smokers.

Bold mine, and completely delicious if you ask me. I seem to recollect having mentioned that 80 percent statistic here myself some months back, but don’t feel like looking around for it right now. No matter; it’s time for a smoke break, folks.

(Via WRSA)

1

Non-event

And suddenly, there may be a reason to care about the fucking Olympics.

Olympic Madness: Women’s Beach Handball Team Fined for Not Showing Enough Booty

“Madness”? Waitwaitwait a minute—is this guy saying he thinks showing more booty is a BAD thing?

Is it just me, or did the Olympics, once upon a time, actually have some credibility? Didn’t the Olympics used to be a gathering place for champions? A moment where nations shined and personal bests were achieved? The first stop on your way to a Wheaties box? I could swear it was not that long ago.

Credibility? From everything I’ve read over the years—which isn’t actually all that much, since I never did give a tinker’s damn about any fucking Olympics—and from what I saw living in Atlanta during the Olympics there back whenever the hell that was, the fucking Olympics have pretty much always been all about the corruption and graft, on the behind-the-scenes business end at least. Throw in whacking great gobs of gooey-eyed nonsense about “promoting international understanding and cooperation” and other such rot and it shouldn’t be too tough to understand my iron determination to avoid the whole emetic shebang.

That being said, can someone pinpoint for me exactly when the Olympics went from being something we all could believe in to the godforsaken sideshow it and the events that surround it are today? Can someone tell me why we should give more than 60 seconds of our time to whatever beleaguered media event is scheduled for Tokyo?

Not really, no. But I’m probably not the guy you wanna be asking.

The Norwegian Women’s Beach Handball team (and btw, what the hell is beach handball and when did it become an Olympic sport? What’s next, shuffleboard?) was fined $1,700 for choosing to wear shorts instead of bikini bottoms during competition. The team noted that the shorts were easier to play in, and I am reliably informed by an actual woman and not a “menstruating person” that during a woman’s period, bikini bottoms can be problematic at best, and disastrous at worst. 

A measly 1700 clams? Hell, I doubt that will be anything like enough to get the Norwegian lassies back into the bikinis again, blast it. Although I will concede the point about the menstruation issue, if somewhat grudgingly.

Although the sanction was played down, the message is clear, whether the league officials approve it or not: People are expected to tune in to the Olympics to see scantily clad women, not athletes. Apparently, there is money to be made by blurring the line between sports fan and hormone-stricken teen. Or dirty old man.

NOW you’re singing my tune, buddy.

On the flip side, track and field Paralympian Olivia Breen was told at the English Championship that her shorts were too short.

Unpossible. Ain’t no such thing. Except on a fat broad, of course.

And as if that were not enough, another Paralympian, Becca Meyers, has withdrawn from the Tokyo games. Meyers is a swimmer and is blind and deaf. She was told she could not bring her caregiver with her. Did I mention that her caregiver is her mother? Never mind Becca Meyers’ needs or her dignity. Let’s get that blind and deaf girl in front of the cameras.

Okay, I will agree that does seem a pretty shitty thing to do. Pointless, petty, and self-defeating also, just a bonehead move all around. One wonders just what the hell those people were even thinking with that one.

So, the Norwegians are sanctioned for not showing enough skin—because, you know, sex and ratings and stuff. The Paralympians are sanctioned for being people and not merely disabled and checking the right box for the IOC, sponsors, and broadcasters. They have no value as athletes or as people. Once again, human beings are made into products.

So, for the sake of the Norwegian Women’s Beach Handball team, Olivia Breen, and Becca Meyers, when the Tokyo games begin, I would tell the IOC and whatever idiot legacy media outlet has the temerity to broadcast the games to go to hell. Go directly to hell.

Oh, I assure you I will be. The last few fucking Olympics came and went with me being completely unaware they were even going on at all, a streak I intend to extend by ignoring them again this year, or whenever it is these fucking Olympics are scheduled to take place. Not having to pretend I give a lumpy fart about the Games is a big ol’ win as far as I’m concerned.

2

You’ll LOVE him when he’s annoyed

Our pestilential victim classes have Francis waxing…annoyed.

Perhaps we should go in the other direction: toward individual aspects of nuisance that can be identified and fought on the micro level. Everyone has a few he’s particularly un-fond of. Just now, at the top of my list is a huge (150 lb.) Newfoundland puppy named Joy who sheds continuously and frequently demands that I put one or both of my hands in her mouth. Unfortunately, she’s too cute to remain annoyed with for very long.

But slightly above the level of Joy we have the great American Panoply of Victims. Great God in heaven, how I despise people who seek attention, fortune, and privileges by claiming to be victims of this or that. Yet these days they seem to be everywhere.

Women: “victims” of a bio-social arrangement that has led to them being protected, cared for, even pampered by the male half of Mankind. (Shut up about the word Mankind, bitch; you can use whatever words you prefer at your next hen party.) Meanwhile, men do all the dirty, unpleasant, and life-threatening jobs while you whine about being “oppressed” by the “patriarchy.”

Negroes: “victims” of a society that has bent itself into a pretzel – not one of those Philadelphia-style straight pretzel sticks; the twisty ones – striving to improve the economic, political, and social conditions of the melanin-oversupplied. “Structural racism,” you say? Damned right – structured in your favor, DeShawn and LaShondra. You’ve tested our patience to the limit. Go just a little further, why dontcha?

Homosexuals: “victims” of a society that has awarded them above-average incomes, high places in the arts and entertainment fields, and innumerable perches from which to claim – simultaneously! – that “we’re born that way” and “we’re proud to be ‘gay.’” All the while evangelizing to young boys that “you’ve got to try it before saying you don’t like it.” One more “Gay Pride” parade that features nudity and public sex acts, and I might just unpack the Barrett M82 and the emergency package of Oreo Double-Stufs®. There’s this really nice clock tower I’ve been meaning to climb…

Muslims: Viktor Orban, where are you when we need you?

I could go on. Be grateful that I’ve stopped here.

Grateful? The hell you say. Frankly, I’d rather you hadn’t, but can readily understand why you would need to. No sense putting oneself at risk of a stroke or fit of apoplexy, after all. They ain’t worth it.

I could add a few more to Fran’s list, and maybe I will at some point. But it strikes me that—excepting the Mooselimbs, who are a big ol’ basket of primordial, full-strength Hopeless—the aforementioned groups all have something in common, as would any candidates I might come up with to expand the list. This commonality also happens to be the selfsame trait that makes them so witheringly tiresome: they’re all liberals, Leftists, whatthehellever you prefer to call them. As I’ve often insisted regarding Da Joooze, the real problem with these head lice isn’t so much their gender, their ethnicity, or their sexual orientation; it’s the gawddamned Leftism.

Which unsavory trait, unsurprisingly, is also what drives them to make human afflictions of themselves, instead of just leaving everybody else alone and tending to their own knitting like decent, civilized non-Leftists usually do. Just fix the Leftism, and viola! We can all get back to living together in relative comity again, and won’t be nearly so miserable.

3
1

Today’s totalitarians

They’ve far surpassed their spiritual mentors and antecedents.

Compared to today’s woke left, Hitler’s methods for seizing power look like something out of the technological Stone Age.

This statement is not to dismiss the horrors unleashed by Nazi rule. It is rather to focus attention on how much easier it is for today’s totalitarians to operate compared with their musty-looking predecessors. The fashion standards for totalitarianism have clearly been updated.

Well, I can’t quite agree with that last. If there’s one thing the original Nazis were known for, apart from—well, you know, the rest of it—it’s those snappy, snazzy, sharp-looking uniforms. Today’s hippie-dippy-flowerchild sack dresses, Birkenstocks—or, for the younger generation, cargo shorts, natural fiber T-shirts, and scraggly-ass beards—fare mighty poorly in comparison, like somebody might have spent the night before sleeping in an over-full restaurant dumpster or something.

As Halperin’s book makes clear, those looking at the Nazi takeover in Germany were not aware of later technological advancements which would make mass control light years easier than it was roughly 90 years ago. In interwar Germany, regional, cultural, and religious differences remained strong. In the U.S., however, most people are now subject to uniform indoctrination, much of it supplied by leftist schools and universities as well as the all-pervasive media. Homogenization, or what the Nazis called Gleichschaltung (“coordination”), has already taken place on a scale that the Nazis had to work years to achieve and could only attain by threatening the public with imprisonment and torture. Compliance need no longer be enforced through acts of terror, acts which Hannah Arendt in Origins of Totalitarianism gave as distinguishing marks of Soviet and Nazi dictatorships.

Today the media, the “democratic” administration, and the educational establishment can robotize their subjects by continuously harping on the same themes from the same perspective. The many films, news reports, and even advertisements with which we’ve been flooded in recent months show this particularly as they stress the glories of the black racial identity over the white one. Some of these sources also broadly suggest that whites have been overrepresented in American life, except as oppressors. The simultaneity and effectiveness with which the power elites now operate in such matters make the Nazi ministry of propaganda, with their static-filled radio broadcasts, seem like inept novices in comparison. Like clothing and speech, totalitarian control has been updated.

In the case of EvilMedia, one can only assume that Goebbels would have been mighty proud of his ideological offspring. With good reason, too.

3

Hangin’ at the spa

S’cuse me while I whip this out.

A number of female customers of a luxurious Los Angeles spa were outraged after the staff did not intervene when a man who thinks he’s a woman displayed his private parts.

“That’s traumatizing to see that,” one lady said.

Rilly? Traumatizing?!? Jeez, lady, but that seems a bit much to me. I mean, rude, sure. Inconsiderate, obnoxious, offensive, all fine. Mind, I’m not advocating, minimizing, or excusing the dude’s actions. But any grown woman who sincerely does consider the sight of unexpected public pecker traumatizing might need to get herself some help for that. I mean, come on—as if she’s never seen a schlong before?

Granted, the egregious flashing of weinage in inappropriate settings is unacceptable, of course. But if there’s anything here for a normal, healthy, adult female to be “traumatized” by, it’s an obviously mentally-disturbed, possibly even dangerous, weirdo running around loose in public, getting his sicko jollies at the disturbance he created.

Thankfully, somebody had the wherewithal to lay down a little common-sense factuality.

One spa worker explained that California law allows the man to use the women’s spa — because of his sexual orientation.

“What sexual orientation,” the female customer shot back. “I see a dick. It lets me know he’s a man. He is a man. He is not a female.”

At some point a woke male customer interjected himself into the conversation and lectured the biological woman about transgenderism. But that lady was not in the mood.

“He is not a female, sweetie,” she replied. “You’ve got a man with a penis talking about he’s a woman. He’s no woman. There’s no such thing as transgender. He’s got a dick.”

Nothing but 24-karat solid-gold truth, right there. How bizarre that our society has been dragged so far into PC degeneracy where daring to say such things aloud is considered hateful, bigoted, even illegal in certain quarters. The spa staff was likely terrified of being arrested, prosecuted, and doing time themselves had they dared to utter a single syllable of reproach against the pud-pulling sicko, and had damned good reason to be. THAT’S what we all oughta be concerned about, seems to me, and to heck with feeling all “traumatized” over the mere sight of unexpected goob.

5

Happy Nigger Day!

I hereby denounce myself for that title. Actually, I used it advisedly and intentionally, which I shall explain anon.

Happy Juneteenth everyone! Officially, this long tradition dating back to Monday is celebrated on Saturday, but the ruling regime has declared the preceding Friday as a day off for our hardworking civil servants. The rest of us, of course, will have to continue slaving away at the salt mines, but the people who really make this country work will get the day off to celebrate the people who built the country. Even as we toil, we should take a moment to think about both groups.

In a way, the ridiculousness of this new holiday fits perfectly with the absurdity of modern liberal democracy. The show this week is mostly about how the system is nothing like it is claimed. Instead of bringing the citizens into the decision making process, it systematically excludes the majority. This new holiday is a great example of how it works. Exactly no one wanted it. Few even heard of it. The people have many higher concerns, but they are ignored in favor of this novelty.

It is also good timing for Charles Murray’s new book. The thesis of the book is that the elites need to accept biological reality or face the wrath of the angry Saxon. This new holiday is a good example of what he means. Ruling class whites pandering to blacks creates friction between whites and blacks over trivial items. It encourages nonwhites to embrace tribal politics, which discourages whites from embracing the active indifference necessary to make a multiracial society work.

There are other things wrong with Murray’s argument. The great Roger Devlin has posted a comprehensive review on VDare. There will be other reviews from dissidents in the coming weeks. Ed Dutton may have summarized it best when he said that Murray is right, but he should have written this book in 1965 or even 1985. At this point, the die is cast and there is no escaping the thing he is warning against. The fact that Washington just created this absurd new holiday is proof of that.

Of course, the fact that both parties eagerly embraced this idiotic idea makes clear that the elites will never face reality on their own. History says they will have their awakening as the trap door swings open. The system we have today is unsustainable, for the simple reason the people at the top define themselves by their hatred of the people over whom they rule.

Au contraire, mon frere: it is perfectly sustainable, for as long as the serfs consent to sustain it. The moment they decide to withdraw that consent the trap door will drop, the rope will be stretched, and the sick joke ends. Not before.

Now, I’ve had many black friends since childhood, and I still do today. I enjoy and treasure those friendships, and have no wish to hurt or insult them or any of my darker-complected brethren out there. I titled this post the way I did for one and only one reason: as an expression of profoundest contempt for the increasingly-strident army of shrieking Leftards who continually condemn all Whypeepo as irredeemably racist—that being “racist” is the inevitable consequence of one’s birth as a Person of Caucasian, and that this “disease” is an “incurable” condition.

They’ve actually said this. They believe it, too. I only wish I was joking.

Yes, an airtight argument that this itself is actual, bona fide racism can be made, and has been dozens of times. I don’t care; it’s a waste of time, annoys the pig, and I will no longer bother with any of that futile tail-chasing. Any and every chance I get to hurl a big, fat “fuck you!” their way, I will take. The more obnoxious and hateful those rectal polyps find me, the happier I’ll be.

So yes, B’rer Shitwit, please do keep right on calling me racist, white supremacist, Nazi, Literally Hitler, whatever. Accuse me of All The Things. In return, I promise to do my utmost to reinforce your erroneous perception of me, and will make every effort to surpass your expectations of intolerable Wrongthink.

Then, while you’re flopping around on the floor like a landed fish, I’ll sit back and laugh myself sick at you. Suck on it.

YouDid.jpg

1
1

If I were King

So today I tried to earn a few extra shekels to add to my meager pile by working lunch, and got a pickup at a local KFC. When I got there, exited the car, and tugged on the front door expecting the dining room to be open, imagine my disgust to find the joint locked up tighter’n Dick’s hatband instead. Naturally, the drive-thru line I would now have to endure sitting in my beloved Yaller Streak under a blazing sun, awaiting my turn at the window, snaked completely around the building and out into the street.

If I haven’t mentioned it before, the Yellow Peril Focus is without A/C at the moment. I glommed a replacement compressor out of a junkyard already, but am still trying to accumulate the scratch to cover labor. Hence, y’know, that whole working-lunch thing, something I hardly ever bother with since you make hardly anything, there’s only available work for an hour and a half, two at the outside. Plus it’s getting uncomfortably warm out there. Working nights is a whole lot better all the way around.

Anyhoo, having already accepted the KFC run—which paid beans, by the way, just to rub salt in the wound—there was no way out of it but through it, since they penalize you for failure to complete a run kinda harshly, as well as declining one. Your driver status drops, which in turn affects how many runs you’re offered. Having only recently clawed my way back up to Top Dawg level after falling a notch due to a bonehead error on my own part and seeing how that impacted my income, I have no intention whatsoever of letting that happen again if I have any say in the matter. Which I do. Which meant I was definitely stuck, but good.

As I sat sweating and gasping in the excruciatingly slow line, I got to thinking (frightening, I know) and it hit me how ridiculous it was for the KFC dining room to still be under lockdown, even after the edict commanding it had been so graciously rescinded by Komrade Kooper weeks ago. Then I thought about all the quaking nitwits out there who are still masking up all over the place despite the planet-killer virus having failed, in spectacular fashion, to live up to its planet-killer billing.

This all gave me what I consider to be a pretty good idea. To wit: Any restaurant, bar, or fast-food franchise whose dining room is still closed at this point will be legally required to keep it that way, forever. If you can sustain your business via drive-thru sales alone, fine and well. Do so, and be damned to you. If you can’t, well, tough noogies.

The only allowed exemption is for those establishments struggling with staffing problems, which many are and the aforementioned KFC may well have been. They get a bye, along with my sympathy and best wishes. Everybody else? BE SAAAAAFE!™

Likewise: All craven Branch Covidians still wearing a mask in Wal Mart, the grocery store, just wandering around out-of-doors, and especially—MOST especially—those drooling neurotics who wear one while driving in their car alone, are now legally required to be masked at all times. All day, every day, from now until the Sun goes supernova. Yes, in your home. Yes, whilst lying in bed trying to sleep. Yes, in the shower, pool, or hot tub.

Moreover: any Karen or Ken who has ever given a sane person so much as a dirty look over walking around barefaced without an Obedience Rag on must double-mask, as urged by the heroic Herr Doktor Fauci. Forever. NO exceptions, NO exemptions.

AT. ALL. TIMES. Hey, seems fair enough to me.

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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

"There are men in all ages who mean to govern well, but they mean to govern. They promise to be good masters, but they mean to be masters." — Daniel Webster

“The illusion of freedom will continue as long as it’s profitable to continue the illusion. At the point where the illusion becomes too expensive to maintain, they will just take down the scenery, they will pull back the curtains, they will move the tables and chairs out of the way and you will see the brick wall at the back of the theater.” – Frank Zappa

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"I predict that the Bush administration will be seen by freedom-wishing Americans a generation or two hence as the hinge on the cell door locking up our freedom. When my children are my age, they will not be free in any recognizably traditional American meaning of the word. I’d tell them to emigrate, but there’s nowhere left to go. I am left with nauseating near-conviction that I am a member of the last generation in the history of the world that is minimally truly free." - Donald Surber

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"The limits of tyranny are prescribed by the endurance of those whom they oppress." - Frederick Douglass

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