Cold Fury

Harshing your mellow since 9/01

Puzzlers

Diplomad ponders the imponderable.

Before I reach the perhaps unjustified conclusion that the “resistance” is just a “tale told by an idiot,” let me ask a few questions, and make some observations about this bold and virtuous resistance.

If Donald Trump is literally Adolf Hitler, why would a member of the “resistance” identify himself/herself/zheself as a member? Strikes me that is a clear violation of the rules of resistance to a repressive regime. Did Max Manus put such a sign in front of his house to shout out his defiance of the Nazis and Vidkun Quisling? Did Anne Frank? Seems an odd thing to do if the Gestapo is out and about.

What does this “resistance” do? I know what the resistance did in Norway and Yugoslavia, but this one? What does it do? I mean, of course, aside from going to notoriously right-wing Starbucks to demand free bathroom usage. What exactly are they resisting? OK, I understand that just like Hitler, Trump is strongly pro-Israel, has a Jewish daughter and son-in-law, and, just like Hitler, used the power of the state to bring back three non-white hostages from North Korea. Yes, I see the similarities, but . . . well, now that I think about it, I guess Trump is actually worse than Hitler because Trump, unlike Hitler, is not a vegetarian!

But, but I still remain puzzled.

It seems odd that many members of the “resistance” want the state to take away all of our guns. The resistance hates Trump so much they want him and his henchmen to have our weapons. I guess the resistance to Hitler did the same thing, no? Maybe I’ve got my history mixed up, I don’t know, perhaps the thunder and lightning are throwing off my aging brain waves.

So to sum it up for the resistance: The anti-semite Trump is the best friend Israel has ever had. The racist Trump has instituted policies that have produced the lowest unemployment figures in decades for black and hispanic Americans. The woman-hating Trump had a woman running his campaign (no, not Mrs. Putin), has a woman as Ambassador at the UN, another as the head of DHS, another as head of Education, yet another as White House spokesman, and now has made a woman the head of the CIA. The oligarch Trump has instituted tax and other policies that are putting more money into more ordinary people’s pockets than has happened in many years.

All just like Hitler did…

There you go again, trying to make sense out of the nonsense spewed by people who have NO sense. I’m gonna just stick with “a tale told by idiots,” myself.

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An idea whose time has…uhh, well…

It might not be such a bad idea, really, but I don’t see it happening.

America is being made great again in the wake of Obama’s failed presidency, which in hindsight already appears as nothing more than the absurd climax of affirmative action gone off the rails.  Trump has wiped the floor with his legacy while building an incredible one of his own.

Now, I propose, is the perfect time for the American people to seal their own deal: let’s make a campaign ourselves to expire terms such as “Democrat,” “liberal,” “leftist,” and “progressive,” and let’s call it what it is: totalitarianism.

He ain’t entirely wrong, of course. But “totalitarian” is a wee mite unwieldy, shall we say. Not to mention that I doubt most average workaday Joes out there even know what it means, or care.

I’ve opined myself about the near-uselessness nowadays of the old terms like “liberal,” “conservative,” etc. In fact, those two in particular have come to signify pretty much the opposite of their old, long-accepted definitions—a direct result of the Left’s hijacking of the world “liberal” not as a clarification of their intentions, but as camouflage for them. If there’s anything remotely liberal about unending expansion of a bureaucratic central behemoth’s control over each and every one of us, I sure wish someone would explain to me what it might be.

I coined the term “Progressivist” and use it pretty extensively here, because I am confident in my readers’ familiarity with the history of the so-called Progressive movement, its origins, and its sinister agenda. But I expect that my use of “Progressivist” as a sort of shorthand for the Left’s fetishized continuation and extension of the original Progressives’ statist, tyrannical program might not be properly understood by most folks out there. On the other hand, when someone says “liberal” everybody pretty much gets the idea, at least for now. Cohen still makes some pretty good points, though:

Now that Trump is midway through his second year as president, I believe we can now announce without fear of the Post-Orwellian Thought Police: the enemies of President Trump are the enemies of the family, the Constitution, morality, and sanity. They are collectively the enemies of our nation’s future, who actively seek to flood the nation with third-world refugees while disarming the native population. In a word, President Trump’s enemies are barbarians within the gates, and they have gotten this far because they do a good job of weeping when retaliation looms. We now must update our terminology if we are consciously to move ahead: the words “liberal,” “progressive,” “Democrat” are what “National Socialist” are to “Nazi.” They are a lot of misleading verbiage.

Oh, I don’t know how misleading they really are at this point. They were once, and were intended to be. But people are beginning to see through the smokescreen more clearly than they ever have before; the fog is lifting at last as the inevitable failure of Left governance makes itself felt more keenly, leaving behind only the revolting stench of pure corruption. Cohen goes on to reel off this great line:

The liberal agenda exists solely because the people liberals are hell-bent on attacking are too busy living their lives to bother shooting them all.

Heh. For now, I suppose. We’ll see how long that holds up. Cohen’s closing recommendation is right on the money too.

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A female cuck?

You don’t concede the Left’s premises. Not ever, not even once, not for any reason.

Speaking of silly women inviting snakes into the fold, let’s address a recent essay published by National Review, titled “Conservatives Are Wrong to Dismiss Feminism.” It is written by one Sarah Quinlan, a woman who, we are told is a “front-page contributor to RedState.” This is intended as a credential, when in fact, it is rather more like calling someone a former lead engineer for the Hindenburg. But one supposes it was the best the likes of Ms. Quinlan could do under the circumstances.

One of Quinlan’s unlisted associations, however, is her sometime affiliation with one of the sadder outings in NeverTrump history, the so-called Buckley Club, an infected little pimple of an organization that knew so little of its namesake that it once mistook one of Buckley’s favorite phrases—“immanentizing the eschaton”—for a conspiracy theorist slogan.

Holt goes on to dismantle Quinlan’s convoluted mess of an argument pretty thoroughly, culminating in this stinging closer:

I’m sure she’ll get around to making a mockery of her other conservative principles in time, but we needn’t waste any more exertion waiting on her to do it.

At best, Quinlan’s piece is a vapid extended emotivist wail in search of a shoulder and a pint of vanilla ice cream to dash itself against. At worst, it is a hostile ultimatum that the Right must trade Trump for Teen Vogue, and transform William F. Buckley into William F. Becky-with-the-good-hair so that it can attract the votes of women whose character validates the assumptions of every misogynist who ever lived. Either way, it deserves to be rejected in the strongest possible terms.

And so, I will do just that. Conservatism needs feminism like National Review needed Sarah Quinlan’s byline: only as a tool for suicide. NRO’s brand needs to be hospitalized and any dangerous objects need to be taken away from the editors after this. As for True Conservatism (™), after the publication of this article, it will need a rape kit, which, unlike the thousands that Quinlan complains remain untouched, we have been obliged to process.

Ouch. Better put some ice on that, sweetie.

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A ray of light

From an extremely dim bulb.

Sen. Dianne Feinstein (D-Calif.) on Tuesday ripped into President Trump over his decision to withdraw the U.S. from the Iran nuclear deal.

“Everything President Obama has done, this president wants to undo,” she said.

NOW you’re getting it. That’s precisely why we elected him, genius.

Update! You can call it “undoing Obama policies,” right enough. But a better phrase would be “repairing the damage.”

Fulfilling a campaign promise, earlier this week Donald Trump officially withdrew the United States from the Obama-era nuclear deal with Iran, calling it “one of the worst and most one-sided transactions the United States has ever entered into.” For critics of the deal who recognized its flaws and did not turn a blind eye to evidence Iran was violating the terms of the agreement, this was welcome news a long time coming. Trump fulfilled his promise, and the days of kowtowing to terror-sponsoring regimes are behind us.

Naturally, Obama administration alums are throwing hissy fits. Obama himself released a statement calling the decision “a serious mistake.” Apparently, the man who gave billions of dollars and a pathway to creating nuclear weapons to the world’s number one state sponsor of terrorism thinks he has any credibility on the issue. Of course, Obama, the self-proclaimed former constitutional law professor, should have known that Senate ratification is required for his deal to be legally binding. For all intents and purposes, Obama’s Iran deal was written in pencil, and Trump took his eraser to it.

Just like that, Obama’s “major” foreign policy achievement became yet another example of just how foolish Obama’s “I have a pen and a phone” approach to governing was for someone who wanted to establish a long-term legacy.

Margolis goes on to present his picks for the top four destructive Obama policies undone by Trump. But there are plenty more than just those (NOTE: I added a link to a more comprehensive list from Limbaugh), and the man hasn’t even broken a sweat yet. I’m thinking I might need to establish a Making America Great Again category for this stuff.

“A classic con job” update! Diplomad reels off a truly great line—”destroying the world order in order to save the world”—and then moves right along:

Let’s not forget that since the USA became a significant player, the principal aim of European leaders has been to embroil the USA in Europe’s wars, have the USA fix the messes caused by European leaders, but have the USA take instructions from Europe’s leaders. Even Churchill, whom I admire immensely, was not immune; he desperately wanted the mighty US in WWII, but wanted to dictate the how and the where of the application of US power. We, of course, previously saw the same thing in WWI. In that conflict 100 years ago, the geniuses in the European high commands needed US troops to halt a resurgent Germany after the exit of Russia from the war, but did not want an independent US force. Vietnam and Libya were also two messes in which we became involved to bail out Europe. Pershing successful resisted them. Let us also not forget that the long years of the Cold War involved the US footing the bulk of the bill for defense, allowing Europe to maintain Legoland militaries and spend their own wealth building cradle-to-grave social welfare systems, which, of course, relied on the despised US military for protection.

It goes on and on…uh, well, not any longer. Just as Reagan did before in rejecting European advice on how to handle the USSR, it seems that Trump has a very clear home-grown idea of how to do things in the interest of the United States. About time.

Of course, the Iranians and the Europeans are upset over President Trump’s bold announcement that we are walking away from this “deal.” As I have noted before, the “deal” guaranteed Iran’s acquiring a nuclear weapon, while, mostly European and Russian companies make a lot of money off the Iranian regime whose bank accounts became flush with billions of dollars and euros magnanimously provided by the Obama misadministration in the dead of night.

We hear cries of outrage from Obama, Kerry, and Clinton, of course, who see their “legacy” coming apart. The Iranians are running to Russia and Europe trying to save a vestige of the “deal” to make sure the goodies keep flowing. Kerry, of course, is repeating his anti-American antics of decades ago: just as he did with the North Vietnamese and Viet Cong delegations in Paris during the Vietnam War peace talks, he has been in Europe trying to strike some sort of new “deal” with Iran to undermine the US president. Kerry does treason quite well.

It’s about all he does well, too. Well, that, along with inflating a minor injury into a quickie ticket out of Vietnam, and faking throwing his medals over the White House fence at a protest. Oh, and he seems to have been a dab hand with the gigolo thing, also.

And now the contemptible gusano is making noise about running for president again. God, how I wish he would. A hotly-contested primary fight between Kerry and Greasy Joe Biden should be enough to nail the Democrat Socialist coffin-lid shut once and for all.

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Gimme back my wig

And my culture. Bonus points for knowing where my title was, umm, appropriated from.

The Utah high school student who wore a Chinese dress for her senior prom has a message for those who attacked her for “cultural appropriation” on Twitter: “I would wear the dress again.”

Keziah Daum, 18, wanted to find a dress for her prom that would stand out while also being classy, saying that she wanted a dress that “didn’t reveal too much of the chest and neck area [or] too much legs and shoulders.”

Daum quickly found the tweet that was directing harassment at her, which came from a man named Jeremy Lam, who wrote: “My culture is NOT your g*****n prom dress.”

Follows in the linked article, a list of sidesplitting Tweets supporting her, my favorite of which would have to be this one:



Another good ‘un lambasting the twit:



There’s lots more of ’em, but I’ll close it out here with Schlichter’s hearty fuck-you:



Amen to all that. It’s a beautiful dress, Miss Daum is a beautiful girl who looks great in it, and whiny-ass bitch Jeremy Lem should go take a flying fuck at a plate-glass window at the earliest opportunity.

Update! Strong message follows, from Klavan:

Cultural appropriation is not a glitch of American life. It’s a feature. It’s part of what makes the country great. We take your culture, we get rid of the oppression, the mass murder, the slavery, the intransigent poverty and the endless internecine wars. We keep the pasta and the funny hats, and occasionally we dress up as you on Halloween. It’s a good deal for everyone.

People who get angry about pretty girls wearing pretty dresses have lost the plot of life. Same with people who get angry about comedians making jokes, silly characters in television cartoons and rap stars who disagree with their politics. These are not bad things. They are good things. They are what real diversity looks like: people of different colors from different places living together as one nation, disagreeing with one another, making fun of each other, stealing fashion ideas from one another, eating each other’s food, marrying each other and celebrating that out of many lesser cultures we are making one new culture, free and prosperous, powerful and great.

Does that bother you? Guess what: you’re an idiot. Are you giving a young lady a hard time about what dress she chooses to wear to prom? Hooray: you’re a bully and a schmuck. Does everything that everybody does or say make you feel offended and angry? I’m happy to report there’s a cure for that. Stop being a leftist and the world will suddenly become very beautiful indeed.

Pretty much, yeah. Note well too, that, as was pointed out by one of the above-mentioned Tweeters, bitch-boy Lem was issuing his petulant demands on the internet—without the slightest trace of irony or awareness of which culture he has to thank for that little innovation. But then, he probably had a cheeseburger for lunch yesterday, too.

My my, but ain’t it just enjoyable as hell when some PC fucktard beclowns himself to such a hilariously fulsome degree?

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Fun sex facts

This isn’t exactly the sort of thing I usually write about here, nor is it quite the sort of thing I’d normally expect from Hawkins. But what they heck, they ARE interesting.

1. Throughout history, roughly 40 percent of men had a child while 80 percent of women had a child.

2. On average, gay men (6.32 inches) have longer penises than straight men (5.99).

6. Although there is an extraordinarily wide number of sexual interests you can find somewhere on the web, just 20 topics cover 80 percent of the things people are searching for.

7. For every pornography search for a thin girl, there are three for a woman who is large (BBW, plump, chubby, etc.).

8. In an experiment in France, padding was used to change a female’s breast size. She was then sent to a nightclub and the experimenter counted how many times she was approached by men. With an A-cup? 18 times. B-cup? 28 times. C-Cup? 60 times.

Hey, they don’t call ’em fun bags for nothing, you know. And quantity has a quality all its own.

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Toys!

Ace runs down a whole bunch of great ones from the 60s and 70s, but he leaves out one of the greatest of them all: the M16 Marauder, by Mattel. Our whole neighborhood had these things when I was a kid, and they were GREAT. Only trouble was, after packing fistfuls of dirt down the barrel a few times to make it smoke when you “fired” it—which naturally we all did—the big, realistic sound it originally produced was rendered kind of…umm, humble, shall we say. First thing we all did, right out of the box, was rip the silly orange tip on the muzzle of the weapon off and throw it away to facilitate said dirt-packing. Also because it just looked goofy.

It had a select-fire switch which didn’t function—it was full-auto only, which means it was no more a true assault rifle than are the semi-only AR15s the libs are all soaking their Underoos over today—and a charging handle which did. You racked the lever back, laid on the trigger, and the handle would tick along forward until it reached the stop and the “magazine” was “emptied.” I don’t recall ever counting individual shots to determine what the magazine capacity was (according to this ad, it was “over 50 rounds”). You easily could’ve, as the cycling rate was somewhat slower than a real-life Thompson M1A1*. It just never occurred to us to do it, that’s all.

The mechanism that made the sound also created a modest vibration along with it, thereby heightening the whole M16 experience to the delight of all. When the charging handle got all the way forward to the stop the shooting stopped too. Then you “reloaded” by racking back again and the fun started all over. You blasted away on full rock-and-roll until you finally ran out of rounds, resulting in your position being overrun by Victor Charlie or the NVA, the pus-nutted commie bastards. Then you’d be captured and hauled off to the Hanoi Hilton for years of torture both physical and mental, your very existence denied by the US government for ass-covering purposes. Eventually you’d break and sign a statement denouncing American imperialism, whereupon you would be released to “serve” the next 70 or 80 years as a duplicitous, arrogant, self-serving Republican US senator, perhaps. If you were lucky.

The only thing that might’ve made this thing more fun was if it had come with a detachable magazine, with a spare or two included. But we’d only have lost ’em pretty quickly, I guess, so maybe it’s just as well they didn’t.

A mere hundred and forty bucks on eBay, folks. Probably around ten brand new way back when, fifteen at most. Nowadays, you wouldn’t dare try to buy such a thing for your kid at all. If you expressed a desire to right out loud you’d be hustled off to a facility for some vigorous “counseling” regarding such egregious child abuse, your kids heavily sedated to restore their shattered psychological equilibrium before being packed off to foster care for good. You MONSTER.

This is what we call “progress,” see.

*Best subgun EVER, by the way. And yes, I have shot one, and know whereof I speak. Many times, thank you very much.

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TOXIC MASCULINITY!!

I am now feeling triggered and microaggressed, which leaves me craving my footie pajamas and a delicious cup of hot cocoa.

The 20 Most Badass Quotes from Professional Fighters
1. “Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.” – Mike Tyson

2. “One way or the other we’re going to hit the ground and we’ll be in my world. The ground is my ocean, I’m the shark, and most people don’t even know how to swim.” — Jean Jacques Machado

3. “Right leg is hospital. Left leg is cemetery.” – Mirko Cro Cop

4. “I’ma beat you till you respect me. I’ma beat you and make you call me pretty. I’ma beat you like that.” — Floyd Mayweather

5. “I don’t want to lose ever. I don’t want to lose at anything. I want to make weight faster than the guy that I’m fighting if we both go into the sauna at the same time. When we’re doing interviews I want to have quicker wit so that I can make him feel stupid. I want to drink my water faster. And then when we get in the cage I want to beat him up. I don’t think people really truly understand the extent that I go to try not to lose.” – Daniel Cormier

6. “He went to the hospital with bleeding kidneys and me, I went dancing with my wife.” — George Chuvalo

7. “How tall are you? So I can know in advance how far to step back when you fall down!” – Muhammad Ali

Ahh, good old Muhammad. Hawkins could have easily culled 20 great ones just from him, from the leadup to a single fight.

Update! So I got to remembering the great old banter between Ali and Howard Cosell back in the day, which was a thing of beauty to behold. That inspired me to go dig up some more Ali quotes for y’all.

  • Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men who find it easier to live in the world they’ve been given than to explore the power they have to change it. Impossible is not a fact. It’s an opinion. Impossible is not a declaration. It’s a dare. Impossible is potential. Impossible is temporary. Impossible is nothing.
  • The best way to make your dreams come true is to wake up.
  • Often it isn’t the mountains ahead that wear you out, it’s the little pebble in your shoe.
  • Live everyday as if it were your last because someday you’re going to be right.
  • What you’re thinking is what you’re becoming.
  • The man who views the world at 50 the same as he did at 20 has wasted 30 years of his life.
  • Inside of a ring or out, ain’t nothing wrong with going down. It’s staying down that’s wrong.

And perhaps my favorite of them all:

I’ve wrestled with alligators,
I’ve tussled with a whale.
I done handcuffed lightning
And thrown thunder in jail.
You know I’m bad.
just last week, I murdered a rock,
Injured a stone, Hospitalized a brick.
I’m so mean, I make medicine sick.

Every one a gem. Number five up above is a good one too, noteworthy for the glimpse it gives us into the mindset that separates true champions from the rest of the field, in way more endeavors than just boxing. Agressiveness, drive, competitive instinct, confidence, determination, perseverance, will—these are all requirements, sure. But the really important quality in the making of a champion is not so much a strong desire to win, but a burning, inflexible abhorrence for losing.

Love him or hate him, Muhammad was the most entertaining fighter of them all to watch, from his era or any other. In the ring, he moved with the swift, smooth grace of a ballet dancer; his finely-honed skill put him head and shoulders above just about all of his contemporaries. Outside it, his charisma and quick wit made every press conference or interview unpredictable and riveting, real must-see TV. Lots of people who had little or no interest in boxing watched those interviews and press conferences anyway, just to see what outrageous, infuriating, or funny statement he might come up with next.

And since I mentioned Cosell up there, I might as well throw in a sample of the repartee between these two legends.

Cosell: “Are you taking Zora Folley too lightly?”

Ali: “Why would you say that?”

Cosell: “Because every indication has been that you’re confident that you can beat Zora.”

Ali: “I’m confident I can whup ’em all. This ain’t nothin’ new. My image has been confident. What you tryin’ to make it look like something new for? I’m always confident. I’ll whup all of ’em.”

Cosell: “You’re being extremely truculent.”

Ali: “Whatever truculent means, if that’s good, I’m that.”

Once, Ali peeled back Cosell’s famous toupee, pretending to peek at his scalp.

Or the champ would make a threatening gesture.

“Don’t touch me,” Cosell teased with a pseudo-glare. “I’ll beat your brains out.”

After Ali retired, he appeared less frequently in public as his medical condition worsened. Cosell retreated into privacy, too, particularly after his wife, Emmy, passed away. Cosell died in 1995 at age 77.

“(Ali) sat down next to me at my father’s memorial service,” Jill (Cosell’s daughter) recalls. “He could barely speak. After I read the family eulogy, Muhammad patted me. He had tears streaming down his face.

“I told him, ‘It’s OK, Muhammad.’”

Ahh, those were the days all right. Ali and Cosell were bona fide giants in their respective fields, the likes of which we won’t see again. Which brings me ’round at last to the prank he pulled on Ed Bradley on 60 Minutes, which I was fortunate enough to catch when it first aired back in…uhh…1996?!?




1996? Man, that CAN’T be right. Can it?

Damn, I’m gettin’ old.

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An e-mail from Da Nuge!

Made me laugh right out loud, it did.

Friend,

You may know me by one of my many nicknames: “The Nuge,” “The Motor City Madman,” or “Uncle Ted.”

I’m Ted Nugent – guitar slayer, lifelong outdoorsman, and hard core advocate for our sacred American hunting traditions, 1st and 2nd Amendment rights and all our Constitutionally guaranteed God-given, self-evident, truth-driven individual freedoms.

But this isn’t about me. It’s about my good friend and great American patriot warrior, Sheriff Joe Arpaio of Maricopa County, Arizona. I’m writing because my friend Sheriff Joe is back in the ring for you and me – for America – and he needs US to be there for him!

Joe Arpaio has just announced that he is running for the U.S. Senate – and that means Americans have the chance to finally send a real leader to Washington who will defend OUR interests on Capitol Hill!

Let’s Send America’s Sheriff to Capitol Hill to Clean up the Washington, DC Swamp! Join TED NUGENT and SUPPORT Sheriff Joe Arpaio for U.S. Senate TODAY!!

Heh. You gotta love it.

The liberal-left cannot tolerate a straight shooter like Joe Arpaio in the U.S. Senate and they will pull out all the stops to defeat him once and for all.

So will the liberal “right.” Hell, Ryan and McConnell are probably already writing checks and taping ads for whatever Democrat Socialist tapeworm is running.

P.S. Think how amazing it would be to see Senator Joe Arpaio fighting for us as the next Senator from Arizona! Let’s make it happen!

Sheeit, think about how amazing it would be to see CNN anchors having to force the words “Senator Joe Arpaio” out of their yaps now and then. They’d look like they were sucking on pickles brined in arsenic and cat piss every time they did.

I repeat: you gotta love it. And I do.

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On the bright side…

There’s always Bolton.

John Bolton turned up on Fox about an hour before I did last night, and professed to be surprised by the sudden Tweeting of his appointment as US National Security Advisor. The Beltway insiders allege that it was rushed out to distract from Trump’s cave-in on the 2,232-page Schemer-Pelosi Early-Christmas-For-Big-Bloated-Budget-Busting-Bureaucracy Bill that not a single person on this planet has actually read. Oh, and don’t give me that “increased funding for our troops” straw-clutching: every sentient creature from the earthworm up knows that the extra dough’s just going to go to diversity programs and gender reassignment surgery as opposed to anything that might increase the odds of actually winning the next 17-year war.

At this stage the Gullible Old Pussies of the Republican Party are pretty much openly advertising that giving them control of the House, the Senate and the White House is the equivalent of giving Yosemite Sam three sticks of dynamite to shove down his pants – with the additional nicety that this time round they’re actively flipping the finger at their president’s bedrock issue. I reiterate the point I first made on the radio a year ago: On January 20th 2017 Trump should have taken all those showboating showbiz no-shows at face value and held a businesslike inauguration at the southern border while laying the first brick. The brick remains unlaid – not because Vicente Fox refuses to “pay for Trump’s f**kin’ wall” but because Paul Ryan does.

As for the Bolton distraction, it seems to be working. I’ve given up trying to discern ideological themes in Trump’s firings and hirings: as far as I can tell, it’s mostly about people he likes to hang out with. In the case of John Bolton, I first met the new National Security Advisor a decade and a half or so back, in a roomful of European prime ministers and foreign ministers. He delivered a line that stunned the joint:

International law does not trump the US Constitution.

I was standing next to the Finnish Prime Minister, Paavo Lipponen, who had a genuinely puzzled looked on his face and eventually inquired of me: “He is making a joke, no?”

No.

This is a long one, including as it does a repost of a Steyn column on Bolton from 2005. Contained therein are these Bolton quips:

What I love about John Bolton, America’s new ambassador to the UN, is the sheer volume of ‘damaging’ material. Usually, the Democrats and media have to riffle through decades of dreary platitudes to come up with one potentially exploitable infelicitous soundbite. But with Bolton the damaging quotes are hanging off the trees and dropping straight into your bucket. Five minutes’ casual trawling through the back catalogue and your cup runneth over:

The UN building?

‘If you lost ten stories, it wouldn’t make a bit of difference.’

Reform of the Security Council?

‘If I were redoing the Security Council, I’d have one permanent member …the United States.’

The International Criminal Court?

‘Fuzzy-minded romanticism …not just naive but dangerous.’

International law in general?

‘It is a big mistake for us to grant any validity to international law.’

Offering incentives to rogue states?

‘I don’t do carrots.’

Steyn also throws in another oldie-but-goodie column peppered with plenty more spicy Bolton haymakers. Whether Steyn’s distraction theory has any merit to it or not, I’m happy to see Big John back in harness as NSA; with Bolton back in their faces and impossible to ignore, the anguished screaming from the usual suspects over his every word is going to be a thing of joyous beauty. However big a fuck-you Trump just allowed the Uniparty to throw at us with his budget own-goal, the one he just lobbed at the UN and the DC Swamp bottom-feeders tops it handily.

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If sheep could cook…

A bit late for Women’s Day. But worth the wait.

…at one of the DC marches some clueless liberal woman carried the following sign. This sign and the text underneath it came from an e-mail sent to me by many readers.

“I dream women will someday have the same rights as guns.”

Does that mean that this brilliant liberal wants…

– women to be banned from entering school and college campuses? (Heh. A woman free zone. – GOC)

– women to be banned from any establishment selling alcohol?

– women to be banned from polling places on election days (That would be the death of the Democrat Party – GOC)

– women to be banned from any official government group meetings?(No women in Congress – GOC)

There’s plenty more, all of which suit me fine when applied to liberal women. And then there’s this one:

– That all women should come with silencers?

That one’s the most important, and it’s nothing short of vital.

I know, I know. Sorry, ladies. As I said, he has more, including a scalding opening riff on Hillary! that even you gals will get a giggle out of. The ones likely to be hanging around this particular den of iniquity, that is.

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Birds of a feather

One big happy family.

Rats — actual rodents — are infesting the newly renovated Consumer Financial Protection Bureau’s headquarters, The Daily Caller News Foundation has learned.

Hundreds of the agency’s employees moved into their beautiful $124 million headquarters across the street from the White House in October as construction was still underway. Upon entering, they discovered rats also were making it their home, according to two sources who spoke to TheDCNF on the condition of anonymity.

The $124 million price tag was double the original $55 million estimate and 25 percent over the $99 million estimate approved by Richard Cordray, the bureau’s first director.

Not one word of this should come as any great surprise to anyone. The building was always going to be infested with rats anyway—of the two-legged variety.

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‘Nuff said

All the gun-control “debate” you’ll ever need.


gun control 23.jpg

Covers it all pretty well, I think.

Update! Aw crap, the image is tiny, and I can’t remember where I first saw it. Let me see if I can dig up a larger version for y’all. It’s a good ‘un, I promise.

Updated update! Blast it, every damned one I’ve found so far is the same dang size, indecipherable for us old folks even with reading glasses. Here’s a link that will hopefully work for ya. I’ll get busy with P-shop later on and see if I can’t embiggen the thing, for the benefit of all.

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Twitter titter

Yeah, like I wasn’t gonna click on THIS link the second I saw it.

Chidera Eggerue has learned to love her body – saggy boobs and all – and now she wants to help others to do the same.

The 23-year-old award-winning British blogger, better known as the Slumflower, is the driving force behind Saggy Boobs Matter, an online movement that challenges unrealistic expectations of what breasts should look like.

“A lack of representation of saggy-looking boobs when I used to go bra shopping in M&S [as a young teenager] made me realise that something is wrong with the way the world views women’s bodies,” Eggerue told BuzzFeed News.

“The packaging would always have a picture of a white woman with perky boobs, yet when I’d try on the same bra in my correct size, my boobs just wouldn’t look like the model pictured.”

Pretty soon she had developed a complex and started to resent her boobs. “It was so bad that at that age I had already decided that I’d get a boob job once I got my first job at 18,” Eggerue said.

“I reached 18 and didn’t get a job, let alone a boob job, so I continued self-loathing until I reached 19 and became tired of feeling like a stranger in my own body. I decided I’d had enough and made the choice to stop wearing a bra.”

I’d never claim to be a support-garment expert or anything, but I’m pretty sure that ain’t helping your situation any, my dear.

Before we go any further with this, I’d like to reiterate a position I’ve outlined here once or twice before: namely, the ass-backwardness of trite, feel-good assertions like “everyone is beautiful.” No, everyone is NOT. The value we place on beauty is directly because of its scarcity, its distinctness. Leaving aside both cultural and individual differences in taste, which span a VERY wide range, if “everybody is beautiful,” then nobody is; it renders the word devoid of any useful meaning.

To make things even more confusing, standards of beauty are remarkably malleable even within a single culture, and are constantly changing. The American ideal in what you might call the modern era went pretty quickly from Shelly Winters to Raquel Welch to the emaciated-junkie look we’ve been saddled with, who even knows why, for entirely too long now. When I lived in NYC back in the 90s I frequently had occasion to be in places where well-known fashion models were also likely to be disporting themselves, and I can tell you that most of the poor scrawny things were ugly as a mud fence up close and personal-like.

We already have words adequate for describing the majority of us without taxing “beauty” beyond repair: ordinary, average, mundane, common, nondescript. Doesn’t mean we aren’t attractive, mind, nor does it mean that there ain’t at least one half-blind sucker out there who might find us completely alluring against all odds.

All that said, though, I’d like to reassure this woman that there really aren’t all that many of us males who are terribly troubled by titties sporting less pop and more flop. In fact, I know for reals that there are huge numbers of us horndogs out there who greatly prefer ’em that way. As for boob jobs, umm, no. Seriously, just…NO. I know there’s absolutely no reason this woman should care about what I think, but if there was ever one thing guaranteed to get me pondering whether to throw rocks or head for the hills where a prospective romantic partner was concerned, it was unleashing those puppies only to be greeted by a set of store-boughts. That’s a deal-breaker for me every time, not that it ever has actually happened; I’ve always been pretty adept at spotting the horrible mutilations even before the giftwrap comes off. My God, I think I’d almost rather unzip the fly to find a dick than that.

Or, y’know, maybe not.

In any event, don’t agonize over your natural gifts, girl; relax, be of good cheer, and be happy with what you got. Trust me, there’s somebody worthwhile out there who will be thrilled to death with ’em, and will enjoy each and every opportunity you give him to see, admire, and touch them. There’s a reason we call ’em “fun bags,” a perfectly apt term that does not come with any qualifiers, disclaimers, or caveats attached. In the end, all they really gotta be is titties and most of us will be pleased as hell to stand up and cheer for ’em every time. If you run across some putz who seems unabashedly unhappy about yours—no matter what style, size, or shape they might be—just walk away and be glad you found out fairly early how incompatible you were without wasting a lot of time trying to convince yourself it might be otherwise.

Hey, how do you make five pounds of ugly, useless fat irresistible to men? Put a nipple on it.

I know, I know. Sorry, I just couldn’t resist.

(Via Sarah and the Post)

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A tale of woe

I’m sure you all know by now that I have an enduring enthusiasm for and interest in aviation, military aircraft in particular. Planes captivated me way back when I was a kid, and that love has stayed with me. Even after working at the airport in the air freight biz for more than 22 years, I have never yet tired of seeing the things take off and land, and to this day will watch them doing it every single chance I get.

As much I’ve studied them over the years, there remains plenty I don’t know about the wondrous machines, and I ran across one example of that shortfall here: a 50s-era jet built by Republic, the F84F Thunderstreak and its variants. I’d never heard of the danged thing at all, which is actually not too much of a shock since for some reason my interest in roughly Korean-War-era jets pretty much begins and ends with one of my all-time favorites: the beautiful and formidable F86 Saber, one of the most wildly successful fighters ever built by anybody.

So I see this Thunderstreak mentioned peripherally in the above-linked ONT post and naturally Googled it right away, my curiosity piqued. As it happens, my prior lack of any awareness of this thing’s existence can be attributed to more than just my general lack of knowledge of aircraft from that era; the thing was a turkey, a near-complete failure, and was abandoned in relatively short order as these things go. It was a disaster right from the git-go. To wit:

Production quickly ran into problems. Although tooling commonality with the Thunderjet was supposed to be 55 percent, in reality only fifteen percent of tools could be reused. To make matters worse, the F-84F utilized press-forged wing spars and ribs. At the time, only three presses in the United States could manufacture these, and priority was given to the Boeing B-47 Stratojet bomber over the F-84. The YJ65-W-1 engine was considered obsolete and the improved J65-W-3 did not become available until 1954. When the first production F-84F finally flew on 22 November 1952, it differed from the service test aircraft. It had a different canopy which opened up and back instead of sliding to the rear, as well as airbrakes on the sides of the fuselage instead of the bottom of the aircraft. The aircraft was considered not ready for operational deployment due to control and stability problems. The first 275 aircraft, equipped with conventional stabilizer-elevator tailplanes, suffered from accelerated stall pitch-up and poor turning ability at combat speeds.

Um. Well, okay, so there were some early bugs; these things happen in the military aviation field, certainly. But they usually get ’em worked out, right? Design flaws, production problems—these things can be and are addressed and corrected fairly promptly as and when they crop up, right? Resulting eventually in an at least serviceable and useful platform, sometimes even going on to excel in a role quite different from the one envisioned in the original concept. Right?

The Thunderstreak suffered from the same poor takeoff performance as the straight-wing Thunderjet despite having a more powerful engine. In reality, almost 700 pounds-force (3.11 kN) or ten percent of total thrust was lost because the J65 was installed at an angle and its exhaust had a prominent kink. On a hot day, 7,500 feet (2,285 m) of runway were required for takeoff roll. A typical takeoff speed was 160 knots (185 mph, 300 km/h). Like the Thunderjet, the Thunderstreak excelled at cruise and had predictable handling characteristics within its performance envelope. Like its predecessor, it also suffered from accelerated stall pitch-up and potential resulting separation of wings from the airplane. In addition, spins in the F-84F were practically unrecoverable and ejection was the only recourse below 10,000 feet (3,000 m).

Aw, dammit. But still, the thing couldn’t have been a total botch, could it? A wholly irredeemable comedy of errors, a curse, justly loathed by all those unfortunate to be tainted by even passing association with the whole mess? Especially not coming from as experienced and competent a manufacturer as Republic, the creators of some truly outstanding planes over many years, the P47 Thunderbolt and the venerable, remarkable, and much-loved A10 Thunderbolt II among ’em. In fact, Republic is still around today, kinda sorta. Not as an independent company anymore, having been bought by Fairchild in 1965, who retained Republic’s naming convention with the A10. There’s also a museum on Republic’s old Long Island factory site, including a still-airworthy P47, bless their hearts.

But back to the F84F. Was it in truth a complete and total failure, an unpolishable turd of an airplane? Does its pitiable legacy consist entirely of being absolutely no use to anyone for anything besides killing pilots, auguring into the ground, vanishing into a blinding fireball, or unexpectedly flying apart on the rare occasions it was actually capable of flight under its own power?

Project Run In completed operational tests in November 1954 and found the aircraft to be to USAF satisfaction and considerably better than the F-84G. However, ongoing engine failures resulted in the entire fleet being grounded in early 1955. Also, the J65 engine continued to suffer from flameouts when flying through heavy rain or snow. As the result of the problems, the active duty phaseout began almost as soon as the F-84F entered service in 1954, and was completed by 1958. Increased tensions in Germany associated with construction of the Berlin Wall in 1961 resulted in reactivation of the F-84F fleet. In 1962, the fleet was grounded due to the corrosion of control rods. A total of 1,800 man hours were expended to bring each aircraft to full operational capacity. Stress corrosion eventually forced the retirement of ANG F-84Fs in 1971.

Well, that’s depressing. But wait!

On 9 March 1955, Lt. Col. Robert R. Scott, in a F-84F Thunderstreak, set a three-hour, 44-minute and 53-second record for the 2,446 mile flight from Los Angeles to New York.

Alright then, that’s cool.

With the appearance of the Republic F-105 Thunderchief, which also used wing-root mounted air intakes, the Thunderstreak became known as the Thud’s Mother. The earlier F-84A had been nicknamed the “Hog” and the F-84F “Super Hog,” the F-105 becoming the “Ultra Hog”.

The F105, of course, was a highly capable and successful aircraft, used pretty extensively in Vietnam and other places in various roles.

In what is probably one of the very few air-to-air engagements involving the F-84F, two Turkish Air Force F-84F Thunderstreaks shot down two Iraqi Il-28 Beagle bombers that crossed the Turkish border by mistake during a bombing operation against Iraqi Kurdish insurgents. This engagement took place on 16 August 1962.

Hm. Well, it ain’t a hell of a lot, but I’ll take it, I guess. It does ease the miasma of depression enveloping this stinking pile’s history somewhat.

The F-84F was retired from active service in 1964, and replaced by the North American F-100 Super Sabre.

NOW you’re talking. The Super Sabre, as it happens, is another of my all-time faves (despite serious problems of its own, resulting in a pretty short operational lifespan), which lends the sad saga of the hapless Thunderchump a little luster by association, at least. Rest in peace, poor thing. Or pieces, more like.

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The only New Year prediction you’ll ever really need

Schlichter has it, and it’s a sure-fire can’t-miss:

The fact is that no one knows what’s going to happen next year, but we can make educated guesses based on trends, probabilities, and past performance, or lack thereof. Sometimes that prognostication goes really poorly, as President Felonia Milhous von Pantsuit can attest between eager gulps of Chardonnay – oh sweet, life-giving alcohol. For a little while, it deadens the pain.

So what will happen in 2018? Well, it will either be terrible, or great, or kind of both. You can take that to the bank.

Follows, some more prognosticatin’, and then a caveat:

So will 2018 work out this way? Maybe. But maybe there will be some stunning sideswipe that will knock civilization off its feet. A war with North Korea. An asteroid strike. Ben Sasse going a week without saying something obnoxiously condescending and sanctimonious. Anything is theoretically possible.

Place your bets, folks!

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Quote of the year

Via Bill:

I think what you said is bullshit. No, wait — it’s worse than that. We talk about the black people in Uganda, and the brown people in New Guinea, and you say that we push our cultural artifacts upon them…You mean, medicine? You mean, TV? You mean, cars? Those people are just as smart as we are. They’d love to sit around a swimming pool and drink lemonade and listen to Eminem and get flu shots when they need them.

You want to keep them in some kind of crazy zoo, hunting with spears, so we can look at them and study their culture. I’ve done that. I lived in a zoo. I lived in a tent when I was a kid and drank sewage and had the shits for six years in a row. I’d kill somebody to keep from going back to that. I can goddamn well guarantee if you took one of those guys out of the jungle in New Guinea and gave him some jeans and T-shirts and a good pair of shoes, he’d cut your heart out before he’d let you send him back.

I’d bet you anything that they’d rather live in a nice apartment with a stereo and a toilet and running water that you can drink. So what I think is, you’re arguing that you have to allow the niggers to stay in their place. That’s about half a step from we gotta keep the niggers in their place. Simple racism is what it is.

Naked Prey by John Sandford

Fake but accurate, fictional but not false, from first to last.

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Chowing down

Klavan continues to come around, step by halting step.

Donald Trump — a political neophyte, a New York loudmouth who plays fast and loose with the truth, a massive egotist and a not altogether pleasant human being — has delivered conservatives one of the greatest years in living memory and has made our government more moral in the process. The left and many on the right didn’t see it coming because they hate the man. And because they didn’t see it coming, they won’t see that it’s come.

The first assertion is easily proven. After a year of Trump, the economy is in high gear, stocks are up, unemployment is down, energy production is up, business expansion is up and so on; ISIS — which took more than 23,000 square miles of territory after Obama left Iraq and refused to intervene in Syria — is now in control of a Port-o-San and a book of matches; 19 constitutionalist judges have been appointed and 40 more nominated; the biggest regulatory rollback in American history has been launched (boring but yugely important); the rule of law has been re-established at the border; we’re out of the absurd and costly Paris Accord; net neutrality, the most cleverly named government power grab ever, is gone; our foreign policy is righted and revitalized; and a mainstream news media that had become little more than the information arm of the Democratic Party is in self-destructive disarray. If the tax bill passes before Christmas, it will cap an unbelievable string of conservative successes.

Now you can tie yourself in knots explaining why none of this is Trump’s doing or how it’s all just a big accident or the result of cynical motives or whatever. Knock yourself out, cutes. For me, I’ll say this. I hated Trump. I thought he’d be a disaster or, at best, a mediocrity. I was wrong. He’s done an unbelievably great job so far.

Trump has made our government more moral by making less of it: fewer regulations, fewer judges who will write law instead of obeying the law, fewer bureaucrats seeking to expand the power of their agencies, less money for the government to spend on itself. He has made government treat us more fairly and equally by ceasing to use the IRS and Justice Department for political ends like silencing enemies and skewing elections.

This is what moral government looks like. And if every male senator in America is grabbing the buttocks of some unsuspecting female while, at the same time, voting for more limited and less corrupt government, the senators are immoral, yes, but the government is more moral. That is why we should never let the leftist press game us with scandal hysteria, but should keep focused on voting in those who will help fulfill government’s moral ends.

Trump has delivered conservatives an astoundingly successful year and made the government more moral in the process. You don’t have to like him, to salute him. I salute him. Well done.

He throws in the usual obligatory slams at Trump here and there in the post, of course. But this amounts to a heaping enough helping of crow for just about anybody, and Klavan swallows it right on down without a whole lot in the way of complaint. So what the heck, I’ll take it, and continue to monitor his progress with, umm, relish.

Yeah, I know. Sorry.

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Unfair, unbalanced, untruthful, untrustworthy, unhinged, unravelling, unimportant

Just another thing Trump has been right all along about.

The mainstream liberal media is primarily composed of stumblebum leftist jerks who want all the glory and respect due a caste of objective, moral truth-seekers, yet who don’t want to do the hard work of actually being objective or moral or seeking the truth. “I can’t pass, and I can’t tackle, and practice is really a hassle, but I’m wearing a sportsball jersey so I want your adulation and a Super Bowl ring!

Remember, to our intrepid media, news is only news if it helps the liberal narrative. If it doesn’t, it’s not news. It’s not anything. It’s un-news. Like the stock market boom. Like wiping out the ISIS caliphate. Like Mueller’s manifest conflicts of interest. Un-news. Remember, half the job of the mainstream media is generating metaphorical tumbleweeds.

And then there’s Brian Ross, the ABC News goof whose 100% false claim about candidate Donald Trump cavorting with Russia gave millions of mouth-foaming anti-Trump weirdos like Bette Midler doppelgänger Joy Behar a collective Muellergasm at the thought that the Flynn plea might not turn into yet another disappointment. And of course it did. Talk about un-news – they were giddy and, as a real journalist demonstrates, the plea means nothing. They were looking for Mueller to convict Donald J. Manson of mass murder and all Mueller’s managed to do was write one of his girls a ticket for double parking outside Sharon Tate’s house.

What kind of nut might think a mainstream media outfit would lie about a conservative who is about to take a critical Senate seat? That’s crazy talk. Sure, Fusion GPS (the group of ex-journalists that manufactured and promulgated the fake Trump dossier) had unnamed journalists on its payroll – gosh, the WaPo and the rest of the media sure aren’t curious about who they are – and yes, WikiLeaks revealed journalists working for Democrat campaigns, but it’s super paranoid nutso crazy to think this Moore thing smells fishy. Heck, no one covers the backcountry of Alabama beat better than the Washington Post, certainly not the local Alabama media that has covered Moore for 30 years and never gotten wind of this bombshell through Moore’s multiple elections! How dare you hicks not immediately accept at face value everything the liberal media says!

If (when) Roy Moore gets elected he ought to send the liberal media a dozen roses to thank it for his victory; their coverage is an in-kind campaign contribution. No one but Moore and his accuser knows whether Moore cavorted with an underage girl or not, but the voters of Alabama have a perfectly legitimate basis to disbelieve the media’s claims – the sordid track record of the media itself. Would the liberal media lie to hurt a conservative? Are you kidding? It does that every day, and the difference is that now we’re woke.

And that right there is their biggest problem, and will prove to be their undoing in the end. It’s a joy to behold, made more so by watching them flail away and knowing that there’s nothing they can do about it, because they cannot stop, and probably wouldn’t if they could anyway.

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Tis the season

For predictions of what might take place next year, and Schlichter goes ahead and gets himself an early start.

THE DEMOCRATS, THE GOPe, AND THE MAINSTREAM MEDIA WILL NOT TAKE A PERSONAL INVENTORY AND THINK ABOUT THEIR ROLE IN ELECTING ROY MOORE. (Confidence Factor: 95%)

Nah, it’s much easier, and so much more self-satisfying, for urban elites to pretend that the people of Alabama are a bunch of pro-pedo freaks than to consider that they actually don’t believe the charges, in large part because they don’t trust their establishment and media betters. Oh, and it’s easier to pretend that Alabamians don’t see the incredible hypocrisy being rubbed in their face by people who protect their admittedly guilty establishment fellow travelers while demanding that these red staters submit to years of representation by an ardent leftist based on hotly disputed claims.

TRUMP WILL TWEET ABOUT SOMETHING AND THE LIBERALS AND WUSSY NEVER TRUMPERS WILL FREAK OUT AND WE CONSERVATIVES WILL LAUGH HYSTERICALLY (Confidence Factor: 100%)

I mean some freakoutrage besides Pocahantasgate. While the libs and Never Trumpers were wetting their collective collectivist selves, we normals were rolling and those awesome Navajo Code Talkers were totally thinking, “I was at freakin’ Iwo Jima – I think I can handle a joke.

Yeah, that prediction was almost too easy.

That might just be the worst of it: these greasy degenerates have become so predictable. Our present-day political class has lost whatever entertainment value they might once have had, and have shriveled into something boring and banal.

I mean, come on, remember Wilbur Mills and his stripper girlfriend, “The Argentine Firecracker,” splashing around in the DC Tidal Basin nekkid after getting popped for a late-night drunk drive around the DC environs? Now THERE was a scandal worth paying attention to, I tells ya. There were giants in them days, folks, real lowlifes who knew how to fuck up properly, and disgrace themselves with style.

Pygmies. They’re all just pygmies now, feeble shadows of the truly amusing miscreants that roamed the earth before them. It’s kinda sad, and certainly disappointing.

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Point, counterpoint

Our like-minded criminal co-conspirator SteveF, from our Partners In Hate over at DP, lays out a fine strategy countering all those “How to harangue your hoggish, drunken, fat, conservative relatives at Thanksgiving—because they’re stupidstupidstupid, and you’re so SMART!” articles targeted at neurotic, callow, obnoxious, ignorant, and inexplicably arrogant college kids we have to endure every damned year.

They’re sort of like the Terminator: They can’t be bargained with. They can’t be reasoned with. And they absolutely will not stop, ever.

Unlike the Terminator, progtards aren’t dangerous except in large groups or if they’re in position to ambush you from behind or to file a bogus complaint with your employer. Progtards are mostly pathetic, and they’re even more amusingly pathetic when they’re angry and self-righteous.

Herewith, a guide for dealing with the tard at the table.

And with that he’s off and running, leading to my favorite section:

Communism, Socialism, and Progressivism
Don’t miss the chance to bring up the repeated failures of socialism and its inbred kin. You can’t quite say that every progtard truly believes that socialism et al would make the world a better place, but if you did say that you’d be off by only a few. Note the comment above about getting the stupid knocked out of you — socialism and such are stupid ideas that sound like they should work, and they sure do appeal to the lazy and untalented and envious, and you don’t realize they don’t work until you’ve had the stupid knocked out of you by the real world. Students, educators, bureaucrats, and some other so-called adults who have lived their lives as hothouse flowers never quite learn that a lot of nice-sounding ideas don’t actually work.

“You know the amazing thing about socialism? It’s so good at destroying wealth that it doesn’t matter if everyone’s equal. They’re poorer than even the poor people in the oh-so-unequal capitalist countries.”

“No, I take that back. The most amazing thing about socialism and communism is the number of people they’ve killed.”

“Tell me, how many more times does socialism need to be tried before it’s ‘real’?”

“Have you ever noticed how often socialist countries have to be bailed out by capitalist countries after natural disasters? Why doesn’t it ever go the other way?”

“Socialized medicine. What a cute idea! Too bad it never works for long. Back in the 1980s, American socialists pointed at England’s national health system as the best example of how nationalized medicine would work for everyone. Then when that started to show problems, they started pointing to Canada. Canada’s socialized medicine had just started and looked good … until rationing and problems became obvious a few years later. Now anyone wanting to show an example of socialized medicine done right has to just lie about all the problems it has everywhere. But next time for sure, right?”

Lots more, including some really useful short takes in the “Keeping the poo flying” section.

Upon which I’ll seize the opportunity to wish all you fine folks out there a most joyous and bountiful Thanksgiving, just in case I forget to do it tomorrow. May all of you find yourselves with a long, long list of blessings to give thanks for, this and every year. And even if not, it’s been my habit since my blessed wife died to remind myself that we should always resist as best we can the urge to be bitter over what we’ve lost, and rather strive to be grateful for what we have. The one attitude will make for far more happiness and contentment than the other, guaranteed.

Update! Ace has one too, but I don’t think it’s as efficacious as SteveF’s is. Of course, it was originally posted way back before the Brat Left went completely loco and there remained some small hope in trying to blunt their dementia with a more gentle approach that took their crippling, destructive affliction into consideration.

Given that the progressive elder-children-yet-not-quite-adults you’ll be encountering this Thanksgiving (who I will henceforth refer to as “grownchildren”) will be armed to the teeth with Vox explainers and Obamacare propaganda, I herewith humbly submit these first sketches of a new branch of Lifemanship I call “Thankgivingmanship,” which I define as the gentle art of insulting the stupid without alerting them to the fact that they’ve been insulted at all.

It is the goal of the dedicated Thanksgivingman, then, to achieve the sublime art of giving offense without offense being taken.

My basic strategy is thus: It would be as rude of you as it is rude of your cretinous grownchildren kin to allow a Thanksgiving dinner into a stupid game of Rachel Maddow Talking Points and their rebuttals.

So, rather than confront the unemployed idiots who will be assailing you, I propose instead to superficially avoid conflict and engagement on their dummy mouthflappings, and appear instead to agree with them.

But — and here is the point — a skilled Thanksgivingman will only appear to agree with the grownchildren to feeble intellects, such as those possessed by the grownchildren themselves. Instead of disagreeing with them — which will cause argument and anger — you will instead claim to agree with them, while in fact contradicting them, subverting them, of baffling them with statements that nearly, but do not quite, make sense.

That’s all well and good, and probably would work as intended well enough. But after this past year’s numerous rank displays of irrational hatred and contempt, dumping bucket after bucket of shit over our heads and then following up with a beating at the hands of a cowardly, drooling, imbecilic mob, I can’t say I’m much interested in that kind of subtlety. I am much more inclined instead to make it immediately clear and certain that I have NO intention of taking even ONE SECOND’S worth of shit from them any longer.

I can also say, though, that the chances of any such human carbuncle blighting my family gathering tomorrow is pretty much zero, unless one somehow wanders in by mistake—an error Xher, Xhim, or Xhit will instantly be given cause to regret.

The Neutral or Nonsensical Statement Disguised as Agreement. Progressives do not process language the same way human beings do; they chiefly adduce meaning from tone and body language, like dogs.

This means that you can say many things which are either irrelevant, nonsensical, or otherwise not in agreement with the progressive subcreatures you’re temporarily amidst so long as you deliver your words with a warm smile and a lot of nodding.

You may also use uptalk to express an insincere solidarity. As with dogs and babies, progressives find artificially high-pitched vocal tones to be soothing and possibly a prelude to Walkies and Snackies.

Whenever a progressive grownchild says something stupid and ignorant, which will be always, do not engage on the merits. Progressive grownchildren will become highly emotional and agitated at the slightest show of disagreement, and may wet the floor or claw at the furniture.

Heh. That would seem to call for judicious but swift application of Aesop’s Rolled Up Newspaper Method. But being the extremist H8TR!™ that I am, I’m more attracted to the use of an electric cattle prod, a stun gun, or perhaps even one of those captive bolt guns used to deadly effect by the villain in No Country For Old Men.




Problem being, they’re kind of bulky and unwieldy—probably too inconvenient to be lugging around the table in a crowded family dining room. Oh well. This bit is funny as hell, too:

Fake Statistics. It was my old friend Boston Irish who alerted me to this ticklish little trope, when he observed that no matter how absurd the statistic you proposed to a progressive, if that statistic seemed to call attention to whatever bugaboos xhe was excited about, xhe would respond with a gushing “I know, right?!

He demonstrated this to me at a party by interrupting a couple of liberals talking, and announcing to them:

“You know, based on current statistics, in ten years, the entire state of California will be homeless.”

Right! I know!” came the response.

By the way, that is not schtick. That is not a joke written for this blogpost. I was really there, he really said that, that really happened.

After having secured the agreement to his obviously-crank “statistics,” he turned to me with a slightly arched eyebrow and sipped his beer in quiet triumph.

I dunno, maybe there’s something to be said for Ace’s kinder, more genteel approach after all.

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Unleashing the power of NO

Or, as I prefer to phrase it, the power of “go take a flying fuck at a rolling donut, asshole-eyes.

I don’t care what the SJWs say, think, or do. When they demand that I conform to their dictates, I’ve got a counter-offer.

How about I do exactly what I want and you stand there and suck it up?

See, these idiots have no power if we just laugh at them and say “No.” That’s all it takes to stop all this stupidity cold. What are they going to do? Force us to conform? Unlikely – most of them couldn’t even do a push-up, especially the ones that identify as male. No, they seek to impose a Dictatorship of the Scoldatariat, clinging to power not through bayonets but by constant braying and badgering.

It’s so simple to resist them – we just have to start giggling and saying, “Yeah, no, I’m not going to do that. Take your literally shaking self on a long walk off a short pier.”

Why some people don’t just tell these morons where to get off is baffling.

After all, they’re full of it. You just need to understand that these people don’t care about other cultures – if they loved other cultures so much their sole experience with other cultures would not be accusing their immigrant housekeepers of stealing the silverware.

It’s a pose, a scam, an okie-doke. They want you to shrug and comply. Their strategy is to whine, complain, and annoy you until you become accustomed to obeying. They want to exhaust you with a never-ending litany of accusations of breaking the unending supply of new rules you didn’t know existed before you broke them.

This endless series of new rules is supposed to keep you off-balance and constantly vulnerable to their correction and guidance. You will never, ever be right – there’s always some new infraction for which you must submit to further restrictions of your right to self-governance. And the rules don’t make sense. Remember how you thought it was important for girls to be empowered by play where they model themselves after strong girl characters like Moana? Wrong! You’ve failed again, because in attempting to comply with their gender dictates (and make no mistake – SJWs have just as firm ideas of gender roles as normal people, except their ideas are terrible) you will inevitably run afoul of some other dictate. It’s intersectional all right, like an intersection with no traffic lights where you’re going to end up in a wreck one way or the other.

You can’t win, so why do some people play this game instead of telling these buffoons where to get off?

Because they hope—a singularly vain hope, it is—that eventually, the miserable fucktards will go bother somebody else, and the Normal being harangued can go back to just, well, being normal…thereby avoiding a meaningless, fruitless confrontation with a worthless slice of detritus who was never going to be persuaded to realize the moronic error of his/her/its ways by mere logic anyway.

Unfortunately, misery loving company as it does, said weedy fucktards won’t just dry up and blow away. They just keep popping up again and again, zombielike—their success, as demonstrated by Normal acquiescence, only serving to encouraging them to come back for more and ever bigger bites of our freedom and right to be left the hell alone.

As ever: they will NOT stop. They will have to BE stopped. A good first step towards stopping them might well be to start doing as Schlichter suggests and bluntly inform them, in terms that do not allow for any possible misinterpretation, that you will NOT be paying the slightest attention to their juvenile shrieking, that you hold them in no small contempt, and that their “concerns” are more properly a matter for psychotherapy than they are a legitimate basis for public policy.

Then tell them to eat shit and die gagging on it, and walk away laughing.

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Good riddance, redux

Fuck Flake.

This guy, Jason Johnson, is a former Ted Cruz strategist, and now is at an outfit called J2 communications.

He posted a series of tweets discussing the #SalonHot25’s/Weekly Standard’s/Chuck Schumer’s favorite liberalitarian Senator.

1) Tempting to comment on Flake’s floor speech. Instead, offering context on his view of “governing” by highlighting a few of his votes.

2) Jeff Flake was 1 of 10 Republican senators who voted to confirm Loretta Lynch for Attorney General
3) Flake voted to fund President Obama’s unconstitutional executive amnesty.
4) Flake voted against Sen. Mike Lee’s 1st Amendment Defense Act
5) Flake voted for Obama’s $1.1 trillion Cromnibus 2015 spending bill
6) Flake voteed to reauthorize the Export-Import Bank
7) Flake voted for S.2114 which increased Russia’s power at the International Monetary Fund
8) Flake voted for a CLEAN debt limit suspension (2014)
9) Flake was 1 of 11 Republican senators who voted to confirm Janet Yellen
10) Flake voted for the Ryan-Murray budget which lifted spending caps & raised fees (taxes) in exchange for promises of future spending cuts
11) Flake voted for the Gang of 8 amnesty bill
12) Flake voted for the post-Newtown gun grab
13) Flake voted AGAINST The Defund Obamacare Act of 2013 (S.1292)
14) Flake voted to increase debt by $900 billion in exchange for the promise of discretionary cuts in the future (2011)
15) Flake preferred John Kasich over Cruz or Trump in the 2016 GOP Primary.

The Republicrat collaborationist organization truly lost themselves a staunch defender of the DC status quo with Flake’s decision not to run for re-election as McCain’s trusty buttboy-alternate. Guess even a slimy dumbass like him is not too stupid to see the humiliating writing on the wall eventually. Those rock-ribbed conservatives at CNN were crushed by his preemptive capitulation, naturally, but found themselves deeply moved by his “this is not the Swamp I know and love!” speech, as you’ll see if you click on through to the rest of Ace’s post.

One down, a whole gaggle more of ’em to go. For myself, I’ll just repeat yet again: guys like you are PRECISELY why we elected Trump, you two-faced, fork-tongued frauds.

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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

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