What’s wrong with this picture?

Okay, it’s now official: we are indeed living in Bizarro World.

Rachel Levine Says ‘Misgendering’ Trans People Is ‘Mean-Spirited’—It’s Not

Ummm…uhhhh…uhmmmmmmmmm—s’cuse me there, Richard, but I have a question or three. But hold on, the “Admiral” does it again later.

Jackson followed up by asking him what his message is to trans kids living in states facing “anti-trans legislation.”

“Well, those anti-trans, those transphobic actions that states have taken are quite politically motivated. And I’ve said before. They are egregious. We need to support and empower trans youth. So my word to them is that we have a president who sees us and supports us as we are. It is so important for people to be authentic and to live free in the United States, to live in our nation as who they are and, of course, who they love. And we’re going to continue to do everything we can to support them.”

Hey, I’m down with it. After all, what could possibly be more “authentic” than a biological man tucking a fully-intact set of male courting tackle under a nice, pretty cocktail dress? So to sum up, then, this is where Lefty lunacy has brought us to date:

  • Pretending to be something they can never in fact be is now “living as who they are”
  • Correctly identifying a mentally-ill person by his/her/its biologically-correct gendering is now “misgendering”
  • Indulging the pure delusional fantasies of a madman is now “science”
  • Refusing to play along with these and other absurdities as if they had any basis at all in fact, science, or common sense—while otherwise bearing these poor loons no ill will whatsoever—is now “anti-trans” and “mean-spirited”

And there you have it, folks. In other breaking news: up is down, in is out, wet is dry, black is white.

2

Beyond their ken

These screeching cuntzillas need to get the word “decent” out of their mouths.

Even as Justice Clarence Thomas was hospitalized, a leftist lynch mob rallied on social media calling for his impeachment or death. They weren’t especially picky about which one it would be.

The same radical faction championing Biden’s selection of a black woman for the Supreme Court as a groundbreaking step forward and berating Republicans for refusing to support her were simultaneously demanding that the only sitting black justice on the court step down.

The calls for Thomas’ death are based on pure unadulterated hatred. And so are the calls for his impeachment. None of them have even the faintest basis in anything resembling the law.

The Women’s March called for the impeachment of Justice Thomas because his wife, Ginni, had advocated against election fraud. Or as the racist leftist hate group put it, “The revelations that Ginni Thomas advocated for the overthrow of our democracy are disqualifying — not just for her as a human being of any decency, but for her husband.”

A “human being of any decency” wouldn’t be going after a judge by targeting his wife.

Of course not. Really, though, can there be any sane person left among us who expects decency from Leftist swine? There’s something entirely obscene about such as they even uttering the word at all. What we have here, though, is nothing whatever to do with “decency”; it is consummate opportunism, the alpha and omega of the concept.

One good aspect here, though: the slavering shitlibs just provided us with another real-world demonstration of why and how they win, one Team Liberty needs to learn from and even emulate if it seriously hopes to succeed. Leftwits never, ever let a possible chance to club their opposition over the head and advance the agenda pass them by. No, they throw it ALL up against the wall, anything and everything they can get their scabrous talons on. And why the hell not? Sadly, now and then something or other of it will stick, and they get to carve still another “W” into their sloping foreheads.

1

Okay, Groomer

And just like that, a new catchphrase is born.

Leftists Are Angry About The Florida Anti-Grooming Law Because They Want Your Children
First, I think this needs to be said – Public school teachers are not important. I’m sure there are many good ones out there and this is not an attack on them. What I am saying is, the glorification and worship of teachers is out of place in our society and completely overblown. At some point along the line leftists in particular decided that teachers are the emissaries of moral order and equity and their jobs should be treated as sacrosanct. This is nonsense.

Teachers are mere employees of the district they work in, that is all. Parents pay the taxes that pay their salaries. The parents are the employers, the parents are the boss and what they say goes. Teachers need to understand this; the parents own you, so get used to the idea. You are not special.

Furthermore, the views expressed in the interview with the gay Florida teacher above showcase some unhinged misconceptions and assumptions. The new law does not say that a teacher is not allowed to mention they are gay, but frankly, NO teacher should be discussing their private lives with their students anyway. At no point in my childhood did I ever hear a teacher talk about their home lives or who they were sleeping with; this is a new trend within the past decade. Not long ago teachers specifically avoided such idiocy in order to prevent rumors from circulating through the school halls about them.

And yes, we did have at least one gay teacher, and he never discussed it in the classroom, ever. His job was not under threat for doing so, he was just a professional.

This kind of professionalism is not acceptable to leftists because they view the classroom as more than just a place of academia, they view it as a place for engineering conformity, as well as a personal therapy bubble for themselves. I can’t count how many videos I have seen in the past few years of teachers “coming out” to their students in a desperate play for attention and applause. The narcissism inherent in this behavior is stunning. Teachers have turned their classrooms into environmental extensions of their own mental deformities and insecurities and now lay these problems in the hands of students.

Shit, practically the whole of society has been subjected to the same transformation; especially in our major cities, America’s public spaces have been reduced to little more than open-air theaters—mere stages where egomaniacal, self-obssessed shitlibs can work out their mental health issues in front of a repulsed and disbelieving audience, coerced all unwilling into de facto participation in a demented passion play. Bizarre shitlib freakazoids unabashedly strut and fret their hour upon the stage, then are heard no more—idiots most insufferable, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

Brandon’s closing passages proffer a crucial point, one I’ll wholeheartedly endorse via the judicious and tasteful use of boldface.

It is here that I think we need to address a bigger issue which SJWs often screech about, and that’s the idea of “Gatekeeping.” I’m going to say it right here and now: GATEKEEPING IS GOOD. It always has been and it always will be. The idea that we must be accepting of everyone all the time is foolish and insane. Some people are not compatible with truth or with reason, and they need to be kept away from vulnerable institutions such as schools and away from innocent children that make up the lifeblood of our future.

The conservative argument has always been that not all change is good, and not all change is progress. Some changes are regressive rather than progressive. Some changes are simply designed to do harm, and some people are simply evil. Discrimination in some respects is absolutely necessary in order for our core values and principles to survive. There are times when discrimination is necessary for our very nation and culture to survive.
Leftists always turn to the old standby argument when they are faced with the prospect that the culture at large does not want them around; they cry that “We live in a democracy” and inclusion is somehow a prerequisite. In other words, if you go against them you are going against your own values of freedom. This is nonsense.

We are not a democracy, of course, we are a democratic republic and there is a big difference, but that is a discussion for another article. According to the non-aggression principle, freedom does not apply to the people that are trying to destroy it. Leftists do not get to target freedom for destruction and then cry victim and proclaim their love of freedom when people get in their way. Gatekeeping is good because certain pillars of our society need to be kept inoculated against the destructive methods of the political left. These people do not belong here. They do not deserve freedom, and they do not deserve to live among people that actually love freedom.

Annnnnd bingo. Bingobingobingobingoeffing BING. GOH. I swear, Brandon and I both could just quit this whole blogging thing forever now. After that, there’s really nothing more left to be said.

The debate on anti-grooming is really a debate on the necessity of gatekeeping. Leftists support it when they think they are in control and they attack it when they think it’s going to be used against them. I can’t imagine any area of our culture more vital to protect than our children; and this is where gatekeeping must be employed with full force and without mercy. Florida is doing it right, let’s hope the rest of the country follows their example.

Let us hope for it, yes. But alas, let us not count on it, nor hold our breath anticipating it, nor lapse into despair when it doesn’t happen. Because it ain’t gonna. At the very least, NYC, SF, LA, and Chicago will carry on holding the Leftard/Manwoman/Commie line against all attack; there is absolutely no chance at all that those and all too many other mighty citadels of PC enstupidation (think Madison Wi; Austin Tx; Seattle; Portland, to name but a few) are going to suddenly abandon their mulish embrace of make-believe and sheer barking moonbattery in favor of a return to boring old reality in the foreseeable future.

UNEXPECTED!™ update! Gotta confess, I find this somewhat surprising.


Is there more, you ask? Why yes; yes, there is.

A follow-up question broached the topic of gender identity. When asked whether or not gender should be removed from birth certificates, only 8 percent of respondents said yes while a whopping 79 percent said no.

In addition, the survey asked the group whether or not they agreed with the statement “transgender athletes should only be allowed to play on sports teams that match their birth gender.” 60 percent of respondents agreed. Republicans were 85 percent positive on that question, whereas Democrats were split at a near-tie of 39 percent agree and 36 percent disagree.

Hrm. It seems as if sanity, like the flowers in springtime, might be busting out all over.

Obscuring the issue

USA Today rides the Shitlib Express along the hot rails to Hell.

In the 13th hour of Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson’s confirmation hearing Tuesday, Sen. Marsha Blackburn (R-TN) asked the Supreme Court nominee: “Can you provide a definition for the word ‘woman’?”

Jackson, appearing confused, responded, “I’m not a biologist.”

Scientists, gender law scholars and philosophers of biology said Jackson’s response was commendable, though perhaps misleading. It’s useful, they say, that Jackson suggested science could help answer Blackburn’s question, but they note that a competent biologist would not be able to offer a definitive answer either. Scientists agree there is no sufficient way to clearly define what makes someone a woman, and with billions of women on the planet, there is much variation.

“No sufficient way to clearly define what makes someone a woman”? Bullshit, claptrap, tommyrot, PC balderdash. Defining a woman, as any real scientist could tell you, is simplicity itself. What makes someone a woman: two, count ’em, two (2) X chromosomes. That’s all, that’s it. If you’re sportin’ a set of XY’s, then like it or not, you’re a fucking male. Take whatever hormones you want, in whatever quantities you like; mutilate yourself surgically to your heart’s content, “identify” as a baleen whale, a slab of granite, or Henry V—you will never be any sex other than the one you were born as. Biology is sometimes harsh that way, and science—REAL science, actual science, not whatever it is the ones pimping Leftist moonshine for USA Today are practicing—can be a cold, uncaring bitch.

Update! Robert Spencer tells it like it is.

Predictably, the article is a big load of hooey, or as Leftists like to call it (and indeed, as it is called in this very USA Today article), “nuance.” One of the representatives of “Science” who is quoted is Rebecca Jordan-Young, who is identified as “a scientist and gender studies scholar at Barnard College.” When you’re getting hooey straight from Barnard College, you know it’s the finest stuff available: the Left’s latest pet idea, all neatly wrapped up with a patina of intellectual respectability, the appearance of dispassionate thought, and the dismissal of the obvious with the claim that the reality is far more complicated than the simple-minded layman can understand.

This USA Today piece is actually just one example of what the Left does to us all the time. Biden’s war on the domestic oil industry didn’t cause gas prices to skyrocket; these are “Putin’s price hikes.” There is no crisis at the border. The economy is booming, and job numbers are increasing. You can file these claims and others with “war is peace,” “freedom is slavery,” and “ignorance is strength,” the three Big Lies that the totalitarian regime in Orwell’s 1984 forced upon its people.

USA Today is playing the role of Obrien, demanding that we Winston Smiths break with reality and agree that 2 + 2 equals 5. We must hold firm, our eyes clear, seeing what is and what isn’t, no matter what they threaten us with.

Not any great hardship for me, since the very idea of cooperating with them, accepting their premises, or acting in any way as if I gave a damp fart about their thoughts and feelings is utterly repulsive to me. I’m with Picard:



Defiance today, defiance tomorrow, defiance forever.

Updated update! Long as we’re on the topic of who “identifies” as what, Peters has nailed down clean and tight exactly what the 15-minutes-famous swimmer dude’s true identity is.

We do know what “she” is, actually. That being an asshole. Something humans of both sexes have but which only a few are.

How do we know “she” is an asshole? Because it takes an asshole to steal scholarships and awards from people who deserved to win them.

“She” doesn’t – for the same reason the varsity football team doesn’t deserve to win the national trophy for JV football.

The same reason you don’t serve people cat and tell them it’s chicken.

See how simple this stuff is, once the Leftist smokescreen has been waved away?

Update to the updated update! The Bee provides a handy, helpful “Who’s a dame?” checklist.

  1. Are you always cold?
  2. Has a human ever popped out of you?
  3. Have you ever decorated a bed with six or more pillows?
  4. Can you tell the difference between cream white and rustic farmhouse white?
  5. Have you run into a curb in the past 24 hours? Be honest, CAROL.

There are seven more, but those five would probably do in a pinch.

Rowling roars, Ronny D scores

Two people defying the current trend, one of them a standard-issue liberal on other issues, the other the most sterling example of what an American politician should be since John Adams. JK Rowling opens the ball.
Mega-author J.K. Rowling is standing up relentlessly for all people who are harmed by the transgenderism mania afflicting our society. A reliable liberal, Rowling has always been gay-friendly, feminist, and even sympathetic to transgenderism in principle. But transgenderism is a horrible concept in practice, despite Big Left’s efforts to make it appear life-saving and glamorous. Rowling is among the growing number of people speaking out against it and standing up for the countless people it has harmed.


Rowling’s public statements on this issue have all been modest and mild, not really confrontational at all. Nevertheless, the frothing rage-junkies of the Batshit Left have blown their stack frenetically after each one, hurling big shitballs of calumny, incoherence, and daylight barking madness, peppered throughout with threats of violence and personal insults so outrageous they amount to arguments for confining them all to a nearby loony bin and medicating them into drooling catatonia, if only to neutralize the threat they pose to civil order and comity.

The incomparable Ron DeSantis, on the other hand, confronts the issue pic.twitter.com/tBmFxFE3q6

— Ron DeSantis (@GovRonDeSantis) March 22, 2022

Before he issued the proclamation, DeSantis said Weyant is “an absolute superstar and she had the fastest time, of any woman in college athletics. Now the NCAA is basically taking efforts to destroy women’s athletics. They’re trying to undermine the integrity of the competition and they’re crowning somebody else the woman’s champion and we think that’s wrong.”

DeSantis signed a law in 2021 disallowing biological males from competing in women’s sports in Florida.

The Florida governor is bucking the trend. Big Tech, Big Media, and their law-making handmaidens have punished people for stating that men aren’t women.

The words “genius,” “courageous,” and “hero” get tossed about far too casually these days. The Left’s extravagant deployment of these poor abused words as cudgels to bludgeon their opponents into either silence or active endorsement of their pet projects has rendered them almost meaningless. Not in DeSantis’s case, though; no matter how many times they’re said of him, it could never be too much in my book. They’ll continue to resonate sweetly in my ears like the biggest gong in Asia entire as pure, full-strength Truth. His every successive utterance or action just makes me love the guy more.

Death Wish Nation

Kuenstler on our collective suicidal derangement.

The defining moment last week in America’s ongoing mental health crisis was U Penn swimmer Lia Thomas’s record-setting win in the NCAA women’s 500-yard freestyle championship race. It was celebrated in the sports news as a thing — that is, an alleged feature of reality. Lia Thomas began “transitioning” in 2019 when “she” was a full-grown male human being, otherwise known as a “man,” and was already competing in men’s NCAA swimming events. One thing you can conclude from this is that the board of the NCAA is insane.

Gee, wonder if the FemiNazis are beginning to rue some of the unwise choices they’ve made over the years yet. As this feller Thomas, might there not be a more, ummmm, practical motivation behind his “transition,” we wonders?

LiaThomasRank.png

Seems to me the truly important “transition” here, as is true in almost every other case of a mentally-ill biological male athlete transforming himself from cellar-dwelling also-ran in competition against his fellow males into—HEY PRESTO!!—a suddenly-unbeatable champ when he’s stacked up against mere goils. It’s a pretty smooth ploy, turning radical-Left feminism’s own toxic catechism against them to take yourself from Zero to Hero in one savvy stroke.

I do hate it for the honest, decent young women who are being robbed of their chance to participate in clean, fair, and honorable athletic competition with their peers, truly I do. Hell, someday soon my own daughter could well be victimized by this same tedious horseshit, which I promise you will piss me off something awful. But this is a malady that must be burned out of the national corpus with fire, so thoroughly that it can never rise from its own ashes to lead us into a morass of folly and absurdity again. It sucks, sure, but it’s a none-too-gentle reminder of the price complacency and torpor in the face of Leftard incursion will always extract from the sane and the sensible.

It’s not the only institution in our country that has lost its mind. Are you comfortable with that?

They never asked us about it. We can only hope that very soon now they’ll come to rue their inconsiderate lapse, getting themselves a schoolin’ on how important such small courtesies are.

Outside of certain fairy-tales involving naked emperors, there is but one greater instance of a people being so willingly insulted by falsehood, namely, the still-continuing campaign to “vaccinate” and “boost” the public against Covid-19 with a genetic cocktail that doesn’t work to prevent illness or transmission of disease and has already killed or injured many thousands of people.

Yet, they’re still out there pimping for the vaxxes: Rochelle Walensky of the CDC, Dr. Anthony Fauci, Mary Basset (New York Commissioner of Public Health), and many other officials in other lands. This is a major part of the scripted suicide of the USA, along with the rest of Western Civ. Our government’s own Vaccine Adverse Event Reporting System (VAERS) now lists a total of 24,177 pericarditis and myocarditis cases for all of year 2021, and 11,829 cases for just January and February of 2022. Do you see an ominous trend there? Those are but two deadly conditions linked to the vaxxes; there are over a thousand more.

The deluded people getting boosted now are taking on-board additional toxic spike proteins to the ones they already acquired in the first two shots. Might one predict that quite a few of them will develop a horrifying array of bodily disorders and die or become disabled in the next two years? It might soon even get hard for the Woked-up, vaxxed-up, Trump-maddened “blue” multitudes to ignore the impending mass murder they have been subjected to.

Such an unappetizing prospect might account for America’s reckless poking of the Russian bear over the future of Ukraine, a distraction from the developing picture of national assisted suicide here at home. The prospect of World War Three is apparently more compelling than the emerging information that indicates the US government is killing off its own population, and lying its face off in the process.

I get that, actually. Is it any wonder? There are two options that explain this: with our own despotic goobermint slaughtering us en masse, we’re the ones who’ll be doing all of the dying. On the other hand, in the WW3 scenario there’s at least a middling-fair chance the politicians and bureau-rats will be blowed up all to hell and gone right along with the rest of us poor schlubs, which I myself find a heck of a lot more palatable.

…Russia (has) had enough. It is doing something America no longer can do: establishing boundaries. Ukraine will not be used as a platform for further antagonisms. Our response: wreck the global economy starting with the international money system, and possibly bring on a world famine by destroying supply lines for fossil fuels and things made from them, such as fertilizer.

Our country is interested only in dissolving boundaries — geographical, as in our boundary with Mexico, behaviorally, as in the boundary between male and female, psychologically, as in the boundary between reality and fantasy, and existentially, as in being alive or dead. And now Russia, at considerable cost, has to literally teach the USA a lesson in the importance of boundaries. They are going to complete their operation in Ukraine and they’ll likely work-around the “sanctions” heaped on them. Their part of the world these days has all the production, a great many valuable commodities, and most of the world’s population.

Our part of the world seems bent on submitting to self-imposed tyranny and suicide. At least that has been the trend until now. Suddenly information is busting out from all angles penetrating and shattering the dome of unreality we’ve lived under for years. Yes, those vaxxes are killing a lot of people… yes, the Intel Community and the DNC overthrew the previous president…yes, every US Intel bigwig in the land lied to you about Hunter Biden’s laptop… yes, that laptop is crammed with hard evidence of bribery and, arguably, treason involving the current president…yes, the US economy is tanking because we’ve borrowed more money than we can ever pay back and we don’t produce enough stuff of value…and no, Russia is not “losing” in the Ukraine — rather, Russia is showing the commitment and fortitude of a nation interested in self-preservation. You think we might learn something from that?

Depends on who you’re talking about wnen you say “we,” Bill. In Amerika v2.0 the concept of “we” barely even exists, shattered by a divide grown so vast over so many years that it can no longer be spanned. There’s little discernible interest in trying to do so anyhow, on either side. The national squabble can only be resolved one way now. Most of us recognize what that means at this point; understandably, we’re reluctant to make it happen. But it’s nearly a dead cert that it will happen, like it or no. As for this mutually agreed-upon shemale/chicks with dicks/Manwoman mental breakdown which opened this post, the Bee has some breaking news for us.

NCAA Swimming Champ Caught In Possession Of Performance-Enhancing Testicles
ATLANTA, GA—Celebrations for winning the 500-yard freestyle at the NCAA Women’s Swimming and Diving Championships were short-lived for convincingly female athlete Lia Thomas, as authorities caught her in possession of performance-enhancing testicles.

“Investigators will need time to sift through the trail of evidence right now,” said NCAA’s Head of Testicle Enforcement, Bob Huevos, while holding up a jock strap, the device suspected to have been used to conceal the contraband from rigorous testing protocols. “We suspect the swimmer used this contraption to keep the performance-enhancing testicles secured between her legs.”

Blood tests of the disgraced, obviously-female swimmer have led Huevos to believe Thomas had a long history of using testicles to dose with powerful testosterone, perhaps beginning in early childhood.

“Long term testicle use like this may explain the female swimmer’s towering height, powerful muscles, dense bone structure, deep voice, and bulging crotch,” explained Huevos, “These permanent mutations from testosterone abuse would have given her a lifetime advantage over other female athletes even if she were to quit and go on estrogen. For that reason, Lia Thomas should be disqualified from competition.”

Heh—”Huevos,” no less. I see what you did there, you magnificent bastards. NCAA President Peter D’anglin declined to comment, as of presstime, on what’s being called the Nutsack-Doping scandal.

A pathetic personal problem

A look at the sad, cowardly neurosis of the Masked Forever, Forever Masked poltroons.

Those among us who are perfectly healthy and remain dutifully masked despite the general lifting of mask mandates are making a political statement. For them, the masks meant something they continue to hold dear, cannot relinquish.

The masks were an important, probably the most important tool in the toolbox needed to destroy President Trump and the threat he posed to the Deep State and Democrat ruling class. For that ruling class, the masks were an evil genius deployment in a pseudo-crisis; for those who continue masking despite good health, the end of mandated masking abandons them to an unsure condition of political flux. The masks represent a kind of yoke, and to the still-masked among us, the end of masking means a return to an uneasy freedom that could lead to a vast majority of voters coming to their senses and re-electing Trump, for what many are convinced will be the second time.

But it is much more than Donald Trump they fear.

Freedom, self-reliance, limited government, and rugged individualism are values that do not rest easy on their minds. Living in a society where everyone is forced to hide behind an N95 is cocoon-like, comforting in a dysfunctional way. It signals the ultimate power of the nanny state they need to not feel adrift in a sea of American freedom.

The message sent by otherwise healthy maskers is that “we voted for Biden, we fear a return of Trump, we believe in the existential racism of the United States, we believe that a pandemic lie was justified to remove Trump and demoralize his supporters, and we think it’s better, just to be sure, that everyone continues to wear masks up until some unspecified period of time.”

And in the ultimate irony, the final proof of the grand masking spoof, as Title 42 expires, after forcing masks on the populace, the Democrat enforcers stand ready to open the immigration floodgates to an invasion of unvaccinated illegal aliens.

It is just so much bulls**t.

It is that, and always was. No matter; as Jesus said of the poor, these, ye shall always have with you. I called this thing from Day One, CF Lifers will recall: we’ll never again see a time in America with no Masked retards mincing nervously among us, as in Olden Thymes. We’re stuck with the damned things forever now—both Masks and the morons who love them, take your pick—and there’s a reason for that.

It worked, you see, the mask mandates. The fear campaign. The horrible illness that overcame an election, an economy, the psychological health of our children and grandchildren, our rugged individualist entrepreneurialism. Our freedom.

True, dat. Ellis concludes by over-optimism declaring that “The tables have turned…Unmasked America is rising up to unmask the maskers,” a spot of baseless, too-much-too-soon jingoism to which I can only respond with a question: Who, exactly, and how? The Masked feebs will only be uncovered via physical force, yanking their precious wubbies from off their sallow, pimply faces—a campaign I would certainly support, at least in theory, but which I can’t see ever getting off the ground. There’s a reason for that also, a good and reasonable one in this case. To wit: the very people most likely to be accepting of a broad, aggressive mask-off program would really rather just be left the hell alone, nothing more. As long as Masked mopes aren’t all up in OUR grills, we just aren’t terribly interested in putting ourselves all up in THEIRS.

In addition to the politics of the thing, the Mask is also a precious opportunity for some full-throttle virtue signalling, a thing no Karen in the lowing, cud-chewing herd has ever yet been known to let pass them by. Yet another angle—sheer blank stupidity,as evinced by the all-too-common muttonheads wearing their Face Wubbie over a full beard—we’ll just tiptoe quietly past for the nonce, I think.

PFunny, innit, how practically every problem confronting us today comes right back to the same old conflict, between those whose primary wish is to be left alone and those meddlesome puds for whom such forbearance just isn’t on the menu. Convince those assholes to tend to their own damned knitting and keep their noses out of our’n, and so much of all this angst and aggro goes away overnight. Unless and until we steel ourselves to doing whatever it takes to accomplish that end, however, The Mask and those contemptible tools enamored of them will remain with us.

Update! Whilst being schlepped around by my cousin and former badass Playboys drummer Mark on various cripple-maintenance errands today, he related an infuriating tale. It seems that the choir director at our church was forced out of his job by one of these Forever Masked bluenoses. Apparently, this woman was haranguing the director about not having a mask on during church, prattling witlessly on about how his selfish irresponsibility created a very real threat to her life. The director—a gentle, affable, and wholly conciliatory man who’s worked himself ragged for many years in the service of our church family—gently chided her with something along the lines of, ” MIz ____, you DO know those cloth masks do nothing, right?” Whereupon the old biddy (actually, if I’m not mistaken the woman is a few years younger than me) took it upon her obnoxious self to complain bitterly about being “intimidated” and “feeling threatened” and such-like at the next meeting of the church board. The miserable bint kept the pressure on relentlessly, until finally the director decided to pull the plug on the whole ridiculous non-troversy and resign his post, in the interest of restoring comity and calm before the bint had made things even worse for all concerned.

So, the direct result of this woman’s cowardice, ignorance, and petty vindictiveness is:

  • The church has been robbed of a tireless and irreplaceable asset
  • A good and decent man is out of a job he dearly loved, to which he had given of himself unstintingly for many, many years
  • The church has had some mighty big shoes dumped in its lap; filling them will be no simple task
  • Finding a replacement will also take a lot of time, I expect; it will be arduous, time-consuming, and will demand much of the congregants charged with getting it done—just more uneccessary cost imposed
  • It is unlikely in the extreme that the new director will be anything close to as diligent, as devoted, as musically talented, and as personable as the man they just lost for no good reason at all

This is exactly the sort of nonsense that can really wreck a church community, creating intra-personal rifts and a general miasma of unpleasantness and distrust, inflicting serious wounds that will be a long time healing. Ultimately, we can chalk it all up as yet another gratuitous cost extracted bythe Plandemic, one among innumerable others. This one in particular may look to outsiders like small beer when compared to the loss of one’s job, one’s life savings, one’s business, or one’s home. But neither is it nothing and should not be dismissed as such, if only because it was all so completely unwarranted. Tot up the final bill, and the Fauxvid Tyranny Test Run looks more and more like being a bona fide atrocity, a shoo-in for the title of Crime of the Century.

The homunculous Falsi and his abominable cohorts must all be made to pay for the havoc and misery they so cruelly wrought, and I mean pay goddamned dearly, too. Decades-long prison terms—in a REAL prison too, not some vacation enjoying the posh amenities of Club Fed—ought to be the least of their worries. Nobody seriously expects any such thing, of course. No, they’ll skate away clean, every man Jack of them—which might well be the greatest crime of all.

PC worlds are colliding

Peak Wokester insanity reached?

For a solid five minutes this week, I believed that an elderly woman in New York City had killed and decapitated another elderly woman. I believed it because it was in the papers. It was there in black and white. In the apartment of this ‘83-year-old Brooklyn woman’, the New York Times reported, cops found the decapitated head of Susan Leyden, a 68-year-old lady who had gone missing. Police became suspicious of the 83-year-old woman and so they ‘searched her apartment’, the BBC said, wherein they found ‘a human head’. A few days later, not far from this seemingly evil woman’s apartment, they also found Ms Leyden’s leg and torso. Grim. And surely unprecedented. When was the last time a very old woman was alleged to have killed and then gruesomely dismembered another woman?

I’m still trying to wrap my brain around the idea that an 83 year old woman would be physically capable of such a thing in the first place.

Then it hit me. I got to the very final line of the BBC report and saw these words – this 83-year-old ‘now identifies as a transgender woman’. I got further into the NYT piece, too. Its headline may have said ‘She Killed Two Women. At 83, She Is Charged With Dismembering a Third’, but then came this killer line: ‘[she] was listed as male in earlier court records but now identifies as a woman.’ So it wasn’t a woman. It wasn’t an 83-year-old lady who somehow summoned up the wickedness and the power to allegedly kill and horrifically mutilate a 68-year-old woman. It was a man. The NYT’s headline was a flagrant lie. So was the BBC’s entire account of this ‘woman’, she, allegedly killing Ms Leyden and then brutalising her corpse. I had been told, in no uncertain terms, that a woman killed a woman, and it was completely untrue.

This case is horrifying for two reasons. First and foremost because a woman has been killed and dismembered. That is appalling and it is essential that justice is done. But it’s also horrifying because the media are refusing to tell us the truth about it.

No shit, Dick Tracy, where’s the fucking squad car? And you find this revoltin’ development shocking…why, exactly?

Two of the most established media institutions in the Western world are misinforming their readers, telling us that a woman murdered a woman, because they now put ideology before truth. They put being politically pure before reporting the facts. We should not underestimate how serious this is, what a betrayal of journalism it represents. It is so clear now: the ideology of woke poses a very real, very grave threat to truth, objectivity and the gathering and dissemination of accurate information.

Not one of which things have played any discernible role in Praetorian Media “journalism” for many a long year now.

This is not an isolated incident.

A serious contender for Understatement Of The Year, that.

This is an offence against truth, reason and the very ability of society to record crimes and to understand the problems that it faces. It is also deeply insulting to the victims of male violence, who could find themselves forced in court to refer to the man who brutalised them as ‘she’. We need to stop pinning men’s crimes on women. More importantly, we need to overturn the mad idea that anyone who claims to be a woman is a woman. And we need to stop lying. BBC, NYT and all the rest of you: stop spreading misogynistic misinformation.

Welcome to the party, pal. Sadly, though, I must strongly advise you to not be holding your breath waiting for it.

Not our circus, not our monkeys

Sage advice from a Redditor, quoted at VD’s place.

Yes, I was here today and blown off the top bunk of my bunk bed in the barracks by the first missile. This is where all the foreign legion troops are, the 35 killed were all Ukrainian mostly due to a direct hit on their barracks next to mine. The base is destroyed, the weapons depot destroyed, possibly the end of the legion. About 60 people with their heads on straight including myself left after the attack. They’re sending untrained guys to the front with little ammo and shit AKs and they’re getting killed. The guys who stayed got bombed again in the afternoon and casualties aren’t clear. If you still want to to join them I’m not sure what the process will be since literally all the infrastructure supporting the training/assignments of volunteers is all destroyed. The guys who are there now will all be going to Kyiv and many will die, the legion is totally outgunned and has a few crazy Ukrainian leaders. After the attack one officer wanted to march everyone to Kyiv and fight. Absolute insanity. Stay home.

I didn’t go to Ukraine for the clout. I asked the right questions, deleted my posts, actually bought a plane ticket and brought my ass over. I said in another comment that yes it was 35 Ukrainians killed because their barracks got directly hit. The 180 bullshit is real Russian propaganda. If you think I’m a Russian agent you’re just in denial that the situation is absolutely fucked. Go ahead and join the legion, by all means, but be very aware of how bad Kyiv is going to get and be aware that Russians have warplanes and you will have next to nothing. Be very acceptant of the possibility of death. Those of us who left, including SF operators from multiple countries, are simply risk mitigating. No one wants to die in an unfair fight, and after getting absolutely fucking pummeled by massive cruise missiles today – yeah I kind of want people to think twice before turning their life upside down to go and volunteer.

Like a lot of dudes there have experience and really wanted to shape the battlefield and impact their advance, but ultimately they’re manning frontline positions that are going to get hammered with artillery and airstrikes, buried under rubble and your family never gets your body. That’s when a lot of guys say yeah this isn’t our fight, not like this.

Ain’t our fight, like this or like any other way. BCE, who has spent most of his life being there and doing that, knows the score.

So much for the romanticism of being a Merc Aye? It’s not like a vidya game…but don’t tell these people that. More and more stories leaking out and around the fringes of the story…despite the “The Russians are getting their asses beaten in!” cheerleading, the word is that now that the Krainians are suiting up youngsters and giving them 3 days of training, and sending them straight out to the ‘front…wherever that may be…

Despite -other- keyboard warriors out there, this is not the sign of an Asskicking Krainian DotMil. This’s a sign, much like what happened at the end of World War Two when the Wehrmacht called up all the Lame, The Sick, the Oldsters and Youngin’s to go out to fight cos there wasn’t anyone left to use.

Calling out the 16 to 18 year olds? “Freshmen” as the Russians used to call the baby-faced ‘Cruits? That’s to me leastways, not a sign your winning, but a sign that your DotMil is running out of experienced fighters.

The Japanese did the same exact thing with their Pilots at the end of the Pacific War…took 16 year old kids, gave ’em just enough training to get a Zero off the ground, and then Kamikaze that fucker into an American Warship for the Glory of the Emperor.

Hence the Ministry of Propaganda  and Lies pushing the “Russians are looooooosing!!!” so hard now…I’m not seeing it.

Me neither. Makes one wonder just what motivation Leftards and their Establishment Media pet poodles might have for rockin’ their “Bless those plucky, unconquerable Ukrainians, kicking Rooskie ass and stymieing them completely like they are” mythology as hard as they have been, don’t it?

Update! The Rooskie incursion, a distraction from Blunderin’ Brandon’s comprehensive, unsurvivable up-fuckery? UNPOSSIBLE.

Would our country be disappointed if Russia actually solved the problem of Ukraine? You have every reason to think so. For one thing, we would be stuck having to face our own problems, especially the ones caused by lying to ourselves, such as the nearly unthinkable obscenity of having possibly poisoned a majority of the US population with mRNA “vaccines” and killed hundreds of thousands of Covid-19 patients by withholding known effective treatments. What would you suppose we might do about that?

Hold people accountable? The scale of this disaster is so enormous that the country can’t begin to process it. And it’s not just us, it’s all of Western Civ, which is more or less interchangeable with NATO, now the chosen instrument of distraction. Do any of these member nations have the stomach to face their own gross institutional failures? Apparently not yet.

Even in the face of massive emerging data that the “vaccines” are a bust and have additionally injured and killed many people, the CDC still urges Americans to vaxx up and boost up. So, by the way, does allegedly “former president” Barack Obama, who tested positive for the virus over the weekend, despite being vaxxed to the max. Who will tell them to stop digging that hole they’re in before they dig all the way to China?

By their lights they aren’t in any hole, and rather are sitting in the fabled catbird seat. Until they start being chased through the streets by angry mobs, sniped from afar, and/or hung by their necks until dead, it will remain tough to argue against ’em on that.

It’s only a matter of time before the swindled public flips and realizes it has been subject to mass murder by bureaucrats, politicians, doctors, pharmaceutical companies, and purveyors of the news. They’re all in this up to their necks, as are their corresponding officials in France, Germany, the UK, et cetera. They are trying to sweep this enormous lump of depravity under the rug, hoping that the masses of citizens will just leave the room.

Suddenly, I’m reminded of a tried and true Cap’n Mal quote that I just can’t resist re-running.

As Kuenstler notes, they aren’t merely trying to kill us; they already have, and in job lots too. The favor should be returned, with great big bells on, until a becoming fear of us is re-instilled in them. I think we’re well past the point where less extreme measures are going to dissuade them, although, as always, YMMV.

1

A night in Hell

BCE posts on his stay in one of THOSE hotels; most of the saltier old road-dogs among us will need no explanation of what I mean by that, I trust. Naturally, BCE’s nightmarish and all-too-familiar story put me in mind of one of the single most atrocious dumps I can remember staying at: the Admiral Benbow Inn, in Memphis Tn. Regrettably, I made the mistake of DDG’ing the God-forsaken pit and wound up falling into the dreaded Search Engine Sinkhole, hitting links like a blow-junkie lab rat fiending for another sweet, sweet hit, sucked in by article after article chronicling the poor old Benbow’s rise and fall. Never woulda thunk it, but there’s some truly interesting history there, great gooey gobs of it. The backstory:

Dear Vance: Who the heck was Admiral Benbow, and what happened to all those motels here that were named after him? — J.F., Memphis.

Dear J.F.: Just like Colonel Harland Sanders with his Kentucky Fried Chicken empire, John Benbow (1653-1702) was a real person, an admiral in the British Royal Navy. During a long career at sea, he served as the commander of several vessels against various enemies, ranging from Barbary pirates to the French fleet, and I don’t have the time or energy to go into that here. Benbow died from injuries received in battle, with a biographer noting the cause of death was “the wound of his leg, never being set to perfection, which malady being aggravated by the discontent of his mind, threw him into a sort of melancholy.”

The admiral was buried in Jamaica, and his fame was so great that Robert Louis Stevenson, author of the 1883 classic, Treasure Island, named a tavern in his book the “Admiral Benbow Inn.”

Many years later, another enterprising gentleman in Memphis would do the same.

Allen Gary was born in Tupelo, Mississippi, in 1913. Somehow he ended up in Memphis, as so many men and women from the Magnolia State do. In the mid-1930s, he attended Central High School and Southwestern at Memphis (now Rhodes College). At some point, he met up with a business partner, George Early, and together they converted a nineteenth-century stable on Bellevue into a popular eatery called, quite naturally, The Stable. When it opened in 1941, it might be considered one of this city’s first theme restaurants. Not only was it decorated, inside and out, like a rustic barn, but the menu for this “Dispenser of Southern Horse-pitality” included such dishes as the Stagecoach, Hack, Hansom, Buggy, Surrey, and Sulky.

By all accounts, the Stable, located at Union and Bellevue, was a success, and quite a few readers have asked about it over the years, remembering good meals and good times there. But Gary and Early decided to branch out, forming other enterprises. Gary had befriended two of this city’s leading “hospitality men” — motel king Kemmons Wilson and drive-in operator Harold Fortune — and after serving for a time as manager of Fortune’s Belvedere, one of the chain’s largest and fanciest locations, Gary worked out an arrangement with Wilson to open restaurants at Holiday Inns around the South.

This wasn’t quite enough, though. In 1950, Gary and Early converted a brick cottage at Union and Willett into a cozy restaurant that they named the Admiral Benbow Inn. So the first Admiral Benbow in Memphis, or anywhere else for that matter, wasn’t a motel. Newspapers admired the new venture, noting that “its interior furnishings are completely modern in contrast with the fifteenth-century atmosphere.” Even though the tiny building sat just 20 feet from Union, “in the Terrace Room, eating pleasure blends with the busy traffic scene.” Just like in the fifteenth century!

At some point, it seems Early dropped out of this enterprise; I don’t know why. By 1960, Gary was operating 18 restaurants, an accomplishment that earned him a place in American Restaurant magazine’s Hall of Fame. A story about Gary in that publication — perhaps you saw it? — observed, “A restaurant operator whose receipts his first day in business totaled $7.10 [they are talking about the Stable] is today doing a business volume that exceeded $2 million in the fiscal year that just ended, operating restaurants in hotels in six Southern states.”

That still wasn’t enough for Gary. He next conceived Benbow Snack Bars, free-standing diner-type establishments, which often had little more than a counter and 12 stools, much like the nationwide chain of Toddle Houses. These were designed to be erected near motels that had no restaurant of their own, you see, but I was never able to determine how many Benbow Snack Bars were actually constructed. American Restaurant magazine, packed with helpful information, does say that Snack Bars “have been added in Memphis and in Laurel, Mississippi, and Gary is currently studying sites in 10 states” but didn’t say where, exactly, the Memphis locations were.

In 1960, Gary returned to his roots. He tore down his first venture, the old Stable, and erected the first Admiral Benbow Inn — this time a motel — at Union and Bellevue. The modern styling was certainly eye-catching, with lots of white concrete, bright colors, and suspended walkways linking what was considered this city’s first two-story motel. Of course, it included a restaurant along with a lounge called the Escape Hatch. He soon opened others — on Summer, next door to Imperial Bowling Lanes, and on Winchester, close to the airport.

As you can see from the images here, the Admiral Benbow Inn was certainly a nice-looking place and stood out from most of the hum-drum motels being constructed at the time. During its first years, it boasted occupancy rates of 100 percent. But for reasons that I don’t fully understand (since the Lauderdales never frequented such places), the motel developed a bad reputation. In fact, by February 2000, Admiral Benbow had declined to the point where my pal Jim Hanas wrote a Memphis Flyer cover story about his brief stay there. With a title of “Broken Palace: The Last Days of the Admiral Benbow,” you can tell it’s not a flattering portrait.

It was here, in fact, at the Admiral Benbow in Midtown that a fellow named Malcolm Fraser woke up one morning in 1986 to find himself without clothes, luggage, or money. Now this would be disconcerting for anybody, but Fraser just happened to be the former prime minister of Australia, in town for a business visit, and was supposed to be staying at The Peabody. The whole matter was never sorted out, but it’s typical of the decidedly unusual events that seemed to plague the Admiral Benbows in Memphis over the years.

So what happened to them?

Okay, so far, so…well, so dull, honestly. Aside from the mysterious Fraser saga, it’s the sort of dry, aggressively mundane stuff only a Memphian with an obssessive local-history fetish could find interesting, or maybe somebody who was being paid to act as if he had such a fetish. Hang in there though; we’re just about to hit the motherlode.

Memphis celebrates, occasionally even enshrines, its motels. The Lorraine has been encased for future reference as the National Civil Rights Museum; the Heartbreak Hotel, once a mere metaphor in the spiritual neighborhood of Lonely Street, now stands in literal glass and stone on Elvis Presley Boulevard; and the success story of Kemmons Wilson and Holiday Inns Inc. is eclipsed only by that of Fred Smith and Federal Express in the local mythology.

Even the dutiful Gideons have abandoned the Admiral Benbow at the corner of Union and Bellevue, however. There is no trace of either testament in the several drawers in room 245, one of which has had its front torn off and placed neatly inside it where the Bible ought to be.

The television is cockeyed from a failed attempt to rip it from its security mooring, although it doesn’t work so well anyway, and like most everything else in the room, it is rutted with burns from careless cigarettes and/or crack-pipes.

Seven doors down, a man was once stabbed with such a pipe by his so-called boyfriend, or so he said when, out of breath, he waved down a police cruiser at the corner of Madison and Cleveland. The boyfriend told a different story. He himself had been savagely beaten with the room’s telephone by the first man, he said, who had then stabbed himself with the crack pipe. He was only giving chase, he explained, so he could help.

The phone in 245 looks as though it may be the veteran of a beating or two. The plate over the keypad has disappeared, and much else in the room has been either picked clean or otherwise rendered useless. The cover of the heating duct leans beneath the sink. The bathtub faucet leaks hot water and cannot be made to stop. Pee-colored formica peels from the sway-topped sink and the flesh-colored stucco walls crack indiscriminately. The door’s security latch is no longer secure (nor any longer technically a latch, really), the hidden workings of the light switch are not hidden, and the peephole — the one you’re supposed to look through before, ever, ever opening the door — has been plugged with a tiny piece of cloth.

And not a Bible in sight, here when you really need one.

Unlike Memphis’ celebrated motels, the Benbow does not represent anything prized about the city or its history, anything people actually draw paychecks promoting. It is not a monument to the civil rights movement, the birthplace of rock-and-roll, or Memphis’ role as a universal crossroads.

Instead, the Benbow represents another side of the city, a side people draw paychecks keeping quiet, a side that’s as old as the city’s days as a rough river town and crime capital of the known universe.

It’s here that Little Pete, a 19-year-old gangsta from South Memphis, got pinched for shooting a man just off Elvis Presley Boulevard. Where a man once celebrated Valentine’s Day by flying into a drunken rage, trashing his room, and slapping his girlfriend around, all before 10 a.m. Where guests have occasionally tried to off themselves with excess anti-depressants, detergents, and razor-blades.

If, as everyone seems to agree, the Mississippi Delta begins in the lobby of The Peabody, then it just might end somewhere in the tomblike parking lot here at the Admiral Benbow.

The Benbow’s seediness comes only in part from its dilapidation. Part of it is a matter of architecture. The elevated rooms, once a clever parking solution, create a claustrophobic above-ground subterrain ricocheting with shadows and echoes. A series of catwalks connecting the motel’s four buildings makes you feel as though you may already be in prison, so, well, what the hell anyway. In urban planning lingo, these effects might be described pathologically, symptoms of a property that is “sick.”

Once, when the Monkees stayed here, the parking lot and catwalks were overrun by screaming, teenaged girls.

A half-naked woman lies bloody and motionless beside the bed. G-men let a tabloid photographer into the room to snap some shots of the corpse, of the spectacle of blood and breasts and the 9mm cupped in a cold hand.

Nothing serves to verify the Benbow’s status as a dive — with all the campiness that implies — quite like this scene from The Sore Losers, the burlesque allegory from local cult filmmaker Mike McCarthy.

Mid-scene, there is an establishing shot of the motel’s neon sign and marquee, and audiences are expected to get the joke. “Cheap applause for the local crowd,” McCarthy explains.

Everyone knows you haven’t slummed until you’ve slummed at the Admiral Benbow.

Although McCarthy had his car vandalized while filming at the motel, it didn’t keep him from putting out-of-town talent up here during the filming of his latest movie, SuperStarlet A.D., at least for a night.

“The surreal charm wears off when we realize the doors are broken,” co-star Gina Velour writes of the place in her diary of the shoot, which appeared in Hustler’s Leg World last year. “The moldy ceiling is hanging like fog, and there is a single, bare 60-watt bulb, just like in the movies. It’s the worst night I can remember in all my travels. I can’t do this for the next three weeks.”

And she doesn’t, demanding from McCarthy better digs in the Red Roof Inn up the street.

“They didn’t share my sense of humor,” McCarthy admits.

Evidently camp has its limits, even for aspirant B-movie starlets.

I have to say, Ms Velour’s Admiral Benbow experience closely corresponds with my own.

Even more fascinating Admiral Benbow lore at the linked articles—some of it amusing, some of it terrifying, none of it in the least shocking or too far out for Benbow survivors. And we are legion, because some years back just about every bar, theater, or other mid-level and below music venue in Memphis, as well as independent bookers and promoters, made it their practice to book hotel rooms for bands on tour at the Benbow. The place was filthy. It was dangerous. It was run down, literally falling apart in whole sections. And it was positively crawling with drunks, junkies, crackheads, hookers, johns, flim-flam men, muggers, and other fascinating specimens from every strata of Memphis lowlife, criminality, and dysfunction. There are roaches crawling up the walls of the rooms as big as your thumb—bigger, even. Go ahead, ask me how I know.

But for promoters and venue owners and such, the Benbow wasn’t entirely without its charms nonetheless. It was dirt cheap, and for people working that side of the music-biz street, cheap trumps all else. Especially when you know you don’t have to spend the night there your own self.

The first time a promoter tried to shoehorn us into the Benbow box, we took one look at our assigned room, looked at each other in horror, and agreed immediately that we would NOT be staying at this wretched shitpit after that night’s show, taking it upon ourselves to speedily flee to someplace fit for human habitation and just foot the bill ourselves, even though our contract rider called for two double-occupancy hotel rooms, comped. If I remember right, we ended up at a Red Roof not far away, likely the same one Gina Velour wisely decamped to.

Our next time in town, the guy who had booked us met us at the venue seeming quite pleased with himself at having procured our two rooms already, saving us the trouble of checking in. We pounced without delay: might these rooms happen to be at the Benbow, perchance? Sensing there was trouble afoot, his cheery face fell as he admitted that it was so. We informed him sharply that no, we would NOT be staying at the Admiral Benbow, neither tonight nor ever again. As a compromise measure, we WOULD be willing to hold off on starting the show until he got us rooms at an acceptable hotel, so he wouldn’t habe to miss anything.

It’s common knowledge in the rock and roll universe that when two touring bands hit the road together, even if only for a few days, there is a kind of accelerated bonding between the two camps which takes place, formed initially around all the experiences they have in common: days on end eating nothing but horrible food and the inevitable distress that comes along with it; hot, easy women in specific cities; crippling hangovers and how best to deal with ’em; where the closest liquor store might be, and who’s going to have to shag his ass over there after sound check but before downbeat to fetch a jug for the green room, and such-like topics. Included among these topics: the Admiral Benbow, and how incomprehensibly skeevy it was.

I mean, ALL of our peers knew the place; everybody had a horror story, each more grisly than the one before, and not a one of us doubted for a moment that every word was gospel truth. No one that had actually been there doubted, at any rate. Those who had lived to tell the tale KNEW the truth, having survived the trauma, learned the lessons, and earned the scars. The rest? Well, they’d be finding out soon enough, poor things.

Any hard-touring band that’s put enough miles under their asses can tell you that there are indeed places dotted all across the American road atlas which no normal person knows about, nor will ever see. We’ve all spent our share of sweaty, sleepless nights tossing, turning, and scratching our fresh insect bites in hotels and motels Normals wouldn’t even believe exist. But they do. Those squalid dens are indeed out there…WAITING.

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Irreconcilable differences

JKB says what we’re all thinking.

Anyone who actually watched the Rittenhouse trial with anything remotely close to an open mind cannot help but come to the inescapable conclusion that not just did the prosecutor not prove that Kyle is guilty beyond a reasonable doubt but proved that Kyle is innocent beyond a reasonable doubt.

An eye witness testified that one of the people Kyle shot has said “fuck you” to Kyle and grabbed at his gun before catching a couple of pedo repellent pills.

There was video shown in court of the other dead attacker hitting Kyle in the head with a skateboard before getting ventilated.

Lastly, one of the victims testified that he didn’t get his bicep “vaporized” until he pointed his loaded gun at Kyle first.

The evidence of self defense couldn’t be clearer.

Not on social media, however.

Follows, a stinking pantload of the usual Leftard fact-free jibber-jabber, a veritable Your Show Of Shows compemdium of lunacy brought to you live and in color from whichever alternate universe these reality-challenged space cadets inhabit. There is but one logical conclusion to be drawn from this chaotic clusterfuck of a trainwreck of a shitshow of a dumpster fire.

I don’t know what percent of American this represents buy what I can tell you is this:

There is absolutely no commonality I have with these people.

None.

They have no interest in evidence.

For them, justice is purely a function of political alignment.

Kyle’s guilt is assured because he was opposed to the rioters and therefore opposed to their politics.

This is how the Soviet Union, East Germany, and every Communist country in Asia and Latin America operated.

This is what they want here. The justice system to be an enforcer of political ideology.

Those on their side have charges dropped regardless of evidence of guilt and those who oppose them are guilty regardless of evidence of innocence.

We cannot share a country with these people.

It’s impossible for two such divergent value systems to cohabitate in a single nation.

That’s about the size of it, yeah. Over at his joint, BRM Peter elaborates.

I’m hearing from more and more friends, acquaintances and contacts who’ve recently traveled through (or moved from) “blue states”. They describe life there as a dreary existence, regimented, masked, dictatorial, with precious little of the freedom to be oneself that previously existed. Almost without exception, they describe coming back to “free” or “red” America as a liberation, a release, a joyful experience, where life can be lived free from fear.

We no longer live in the same America as they do. They see themselves as an irresistible force, imposing their ideology willy-nilly on everybody else. The rest of us see ourselves – and our constitution, and our traditions – as an immovable object that will not be dominated.

In the absence of common sense, compromise and good will, there can be only one outcome of that conflict. One side will have to go to the wall.

Well…if that’s how it has to be, so be it. As long as I’m alive, it won’t be the side of freedom. I’ve seen at first hand, in all too ghastly detail, what it does to a country when totalitarianism triumphs. I won’t see it happen here.

This is where all of us who love freedom must align ourselves with our founding fathers, who “mutually pledge[d] to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor” in the same cause. Many of them fulfilled that pledge at the cost of their lives and/or prosperity. We should expect, and can do, no less. Not to worry. We’ll be in good company.

Well and rightly said, brother. The Useful Idiots have sown the wind, heedless of the evil and calamity they were cultivating. Harvest time is nigh upon them, yielding only the bitterest of fruit.

7

How to defeat the Cancel Culture mob

Point and laugh at them every chance you get; provide countless in-your-face demonstrations that you simply don’t care one tiny bit about their opinions, their beliefs, or their very existence; ridicule them as the weak, lily-livered ignoramuses they truly are. Those, among other equally fine tactics, such as putting every man Jack of them into his grave.

Last year marked the 40th anniversary of the release of Airplane!, the comedy I wrote and directed with my brother Jerry and our friend Jim Abrahams. Just before the world shut down, Paramount held a screening at the Egyptian Theater in Hollywood, followed by a Q&A in which an audience member asked a question we never used to receive: “Could you make Airplane! today?” My response: “Of course, we could. Just without the jokes.”

Although people tell me that they love Airplane! and it seems to be included on just about every Top Five movie-comedy list, there was talk at Paramount of withholding the rerelease over feared backlash for scenes that today would be deemed “insensitive.” I’m referring to scenes like the one in which two black characters speak entirely in a jive dialect so unintelligible that it has to be subtitled. I’ve lost count of the number of people who have said to me, “You couldn’t do that scene today.” But I always wonder, why not? Half the gags in that joke were aimed at white people, given that the translation for “Shit” is “Golly!”—and the whole gag is topped off by the whitest lady on the planet, the actress who played the mom on Leave It to Beaver, translating.

Today, we’re faced with social and political pressures that are tearing our country and our families apart. Not that I couldn’t do without some family members anyway, but the point is, we live in the most outrageous period in our recent history, when the need for humor is greatest, and yet we seem to be losing our ability to laugh at ourselves and our world.

HUMOR happens when you go against what’s expected and surprise people with something they’re not anticipating, like the New York Jets winning a game. But to find this surprise funny, people have to be willing to suppress the literal interpretations of jokes. In Airplane!, Lloyd Bridges’s character tries to quit smoking, drinking, amphetamines, and sniffing glue. If his “addictions” were to be taken literally, there would be no laughs. Many of today’s studio executives seem to believe that audiences can no longer look past the literal interpretations of jokes. Fear of backlash rather than the desire to entertain seems to be driving their choices.

I admit that their fear of audience retaliation is not entirely unwarranted. There is a very vocal, though I believe small, percentage of the population that can’t differentiate between Glue Sniffing Joke and Glue Sniffing Drug Problem. It is these people whom studio executives fear when they think twice about rereleasing Airplane! on its 40th anniversary, when they put disclaimers in front of Blazing Saddles, or when they pressure writers to remove jokes that are otherwise perfectly offensive. As a result of these fear-based decisions, some of the best contemporary comedy minds are abandoning laughter in favor of admittedly brilliant but serious projects such as Joker, directed by Todd Phillips, and Chernobyl, written by Craig Mazin. These men collaborated on two of the Hangover pictures, which struck gold at the box office. Phillips summed up the general plight of the comedy writer when he said, “It’s hard to argue with 30 million people on Twitter. You just can’t do it. So, you just go, ‘I’m out.’”

Some people look at the mass exodus of comedy writers and proclaim that comedy must be dead. That’s not true. Comedy is not dead. It’s scared. And when something is scared, it goes into hiding.

Biiiig mistake, that. It’s a sure-fire guarantee that there will be more of the same, on and on and on, buying you nothing worth having. Why be afraid of these puling, pussified prigs, anyhow? They’re way too light in the ass to ever be a credible threat against hardier folks who are eminently capable of wrecking them completely should the punks ever muster the stones to show fight against better men than they’ll ever be. I see no bright side to hiding from them, like some scurrying rodent would at sight of a hungry alley cat. However, I see no dark side to defying these worms at every turn—to making them suffer so hideously that the mere thought of ever hassling us again results in a sudden aroma of warm piss wafting about the room, in perfect sync with an embarrassing wet patch quickly spreading to endarken the entire crotch of his hipster-douchebag skinny jeans.

These wormy twerps need to be reminded, pointedly and repeatedly, of what happens to the yappy-ass Yorkie when he tangles with the Pit Bull. HINT: nothing pleasant for the uppity Yorkie, who may profit in the long term from his schooling in how very important it is to not let oneself get above one’s station, to take good care that his reach doesn’t exceed his grasp. They need to have their noses vigorously rubbed in it thrice daily, six days a week, until those lessons sink in, and I mean bone-deep.

Zucker goes on to relate a tidbit of personal history so wonderfully bizarre that I—having been blessed with a good few fairly extraordinary life experiences myself, though not on as grand a scale as this—that all I can think to do is stand back in silent awe.

Circumstances like these are a daily occurrence in my life, not only because I’m naturally inept, but also because somehow, abnormal seems to find me. During the great pandemic of 2020, I managed to quarantine with my ex-wife’s current boyfriend, my ex-girlfriend who teaches meditation, the guitarist for the ’80s rock band Ratt, and the reigning Miss Utah USA. My life could easily be a sitcom, except no one would believe it.

I salute you, good sir.

By way of waving an upraised middle digit with malice aforethought at every shitlib scold, every killjoy, every preening tightass unable to see past a grandiose delusion which insists that they and their equally insufferable fellows are in fact charged with Making The World A Better Place—whether it actually wants to be or not. Translated into Sane Language, the mantra sounds like this: DO WHAT I SAY DO WHAT I SAY DO WHAT I SAY CAN’T YOU SEE I’M BETTER THAN YOU WAAAAAAAH!!!

In response, I offer all those nitwit neurotics the gesture so unforgettably displayed by the immortal Johnny Cash, to wit:

Sit and spin

Really says it all, don’tchathink?

4
1

Say it ain’t so, Gene!

Well, THIS is just depressing as all hell.

Gene Simmons, the singer for legendary rock band KISS, viciously attacked unvaccinated people during a Wednesday interview with “TalkShopLive.”

Discussing the Covid-19 pandemic, Simmons told Steve Harkins, “I know that there are Flat Earth Society people who believe in all sorts of things. ‘They died because they were fat or because they smoked.’ No bitch, they died because they got Covid.”

Of course, the ignorant musician is unaware of commonly found information such as data showing nearly 80% of Covid hospitalizations occur in obese people.

Next, Simmons appeared to diss NFL quarterback Aaron Rodgers for choosing not to get the Covid vaccine, saying, “I don’t care if you play football or not, stay away from evil people who don’t care about your health.”

“You are not allowed to infect other people just because you think you’ve got rights that are delusional of course,” the frontman added. “This delusional, evil idea that you get to do whatever you want and the rest of the world be damned is really terrible. We’ve got to identify those people and bring them out into the open so you know who they are.”

“If you are willing to walk among us unvaccinated, you are an enemy,” he said, concluding his tirade.

Works for me, pal, if that’s the way you really want it. Only know this: as you have declared me “an enemy” for refusing to abandon my most deeply-held principles on the say-so of a clearly ignorant, fearful bully like yourself, I now declare you to be an enemy of MINE.

Consider that my personal vow to do you as much injury as I am physically capable of, in all forms or permutations, using every means I can conceive or contrive. If it truly must be war between us—a condition I truly, deeply deplore—then let there be no mercy, no quarter, and no surcease either asked or given on either side. If it’s a fight you people want, then I firmly believe you by God ought to get yourselves one, all you can stomach of it: hard, bloody, and brutal, until you retch your throats red and raw from it.

So be it, then.

21

The final straw

Many of us have wondered what might turn out to be the spark that sets off the powder keg of violent uprising once and for all, provoking Real Americans to take up arms at last against oppression and tyranny after having endured “a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object” far lengthier and more onerous than that which goaded the Founders to outright revolution. Speaking strictly for myself, my personal line in the sand has now been crossed. Flung down and danced upon, more like.

New York Times Thought Police Ask: Should Classic Rock Songs Be Toppled Like Confederate Statues?

Considering that I don’t think the history of the Confederacy should be erased by violent mobs of dull-witted ignorami either, my answer can only be a resounding NO, followed by a hearty Go fuck yourself until you fall over dead from the strain, pusbucket.

Hide your classic rock LP’s. The thought police at the New York Times are coming for them.

The New York Times opinion section has run a column advocating for classic rock songs like Don McLean’s “American Pie” to be reconsidered and maybe even “toppled” like historic Confederate statues, arguing that reevaluating beloved songs will help create a world that is “inclusive and more just.”

Other rock singers ripe for cancellation include Eric Clapton, Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Cash, and even Elvis Presley.

Take down my shootin’ arn from over yon mantlepiece, Maw, it’s time to go a-huntin’ liberal shitweasels. Season’s open on the confusticatin’ l’il varmints, and t’ain’t no bag limit neither.

Jennifer Finney Boylan, who is a male-to-female transgender,

*GROAN*

laid out the case in the op-ed titled “Should Classic Rock Songs Be Toppled Like Confederate Statues?”

“As we take another look at the sins of our historical figures, we’ve also had to take a hard look at our more immediate past and present, including the behavior of the creators of pop culture,” Boylan wrote. “That reassessment extends now to the people who wrote some of our best-loved songs.”

Chief among the candidates for cancellation is “American Pie,” the 1971 classic song by Don McLean. Boylan cited past allegations of domestic violence made against McLean as justification for the song’s cancellation.

“I want to live in a world where I can be moved by art and music and literature without having to come up with elaborate apologies for that work or for its creators,” the columnist wrote.

Good for you. Me, I want to live in a world where all the rivers are of the Willie Nelson “take my mind” sort; where the women are all gorgeous, willing, and utterly incapable of resisting my unique charms; where demented freaks such as yourself are mostly ignored as the aberrant head-cases they truly are, rather than kowtowed to and lionized as “brave,” admirable, and praiseworthy; and above all, where I will be forever thirty-five, handsome, strong, wise, rich, and shockingly well-hung.

Now let’s both shit in the other hand and see which one gets full the quickest, dipshit.

The op-ed also cited the Rolling Stones’ “Brown Sugar,” saying the group’s recent decision to remove the song from its U.S. tour set may be insufficient.

“If the Stones don’t know why the song has to go, does simply removing it from their tour sheet go far enough?” Boylan wrote.

They never should’ve given in to mewling neurotics like you in the first place, and will live to greatly rue the mistake. Q: Who, exactly, gives a flying fuck at a plate glass window what you think goes “far enough” anyhow? You seem to believe that the answer is some number exceeding that which can be counted on the fingers of one hand. I’m supremely confident that you are in error, which must surely be a familiar place for you to be in.

The columnist also put Eric Clapton in the cancel mob’s cross hairs by accusing the rocker of making “racist rants” and of engaging in “anti-vaccination activism.”

“It’s hard to explain why younger versions of ourselves ever thought they were OK in the first place,” Boylan wrote.

It’s a lot harder to explain why the fuck you’re still talking.

“Maybe reconsidering those songs, and their artists, can inspire us to think about the future and how to bring about a world that is more inclusive and more just.”

And right there it is, folks: the pluperfect confirmation that sane, normal Americans must always remember the simple fact that obnoxious, mentally-ill Leftist shitwits like this will never stop, never be satisfied, and never just fuck off and go away. The world will never, NOT EVER, be “inclusive” and “just” enough to suit them. They think themselves noble, selfless, and exalted by willingly accepting responsibility for an unachievable and never-ending task. Verily, the shitlib’s work is never done…which is why you unevolved Dirt People must either get on board the PC train or be run over and mulched under its steel wheels.

Which means, in turn, that always and forever they will come back again and again for another bite at the apple. To cede a single inch of ground to them in the hope they might finally be persuaded to leave us alone is death. Get it through your heads and don’t ever forget it: They are relentless. They are insatiable. They are obssessive and single-minded. They are batshit insane. And sooner or later, no matter who you are or what you’re into, they’ll get around to something you DO care about.

7

Britrising

Fed-up Limey commuters show the world how it’s done.

Fuming motorists chuck ink at Insulate Britain protesters as they prepare to block A40

The subhed is a keeper:

After Insulate Britain intensified their tactics this week by gluing themselves to roads, angry commuters have responded this morning with a sticky substance of their own

Fuming motorists have drenched Insulate Britain protesters in ink today as the activists once again blocked London’s roads during this morning’s rush hour.

The eco warriors decided to target both the A40 and M25 today, but were met with fierce resistance from commuters.

Pictures from the scene on the A40 show gloomy activists with deep blue ink trickling down their faces and hi-vis uniforms.

One of the inked activists, 77-year-old retired doctor Christian, told the Metro that the inking was “unpleasant” but not painful.

He said: “The whole thing is sad, it is sad that we have to do this.

Not quite, bub. No, the truly sad thing is that—thanks to an unappetizing bouillabaise on your part of ignorance and boundless, insufferable self-righteousness—you deluded, Chicken Little rectards THINK you “have to do this.”

Footage from the A40 showed one angry motorist ripping away the group’s banners, demanding they “get out the road” before encouraging others stuck in the traffic to assist his removal efforts.

On Monday, one protester had to be forcibly unglued after sticking his cheek to the road at the corner of Camomile Street and Bishopsgate in the City of London.

He was eventually carried into a police van by two officers.

Weeping copiously from the agony of having one entire side of his fucking face ripped away and left on the motorway, one must hope. A pic of the freshly Smurfinated old fart is included, about which a commenter quips: “Old guy should be happy doesn’t he realize people pay a lot of money to have their faces tattooed just like that he got his for free…” To which I can only add: Heh.

Update! Clue to newly-blue and clueless.

Modern doomsayers have been predicting climate and environmental disaster since the 1960s. They continue to do so today.

None of the apocalyptic predictions with due dates as of today have come true.

What follows is a collection of notably wild predictions from notable people in government and science.

More than merely spotlighting the failed predictions, this collection shows that the makers of failed apocalyptic predictions often are individuals holding respected positions in government and science.

While such predictions have been and continue to be enthusiastically reported by a media eager for sensational headlines, the failures are typically not revisited.

There’s fifty of ’em, and even that barely scratches the surface of this stupidity.

4

Obnoxious child playing in the street

Boy, talk about a problem that solves itself.

A climate activist in Vancouver who is part of the infamous group Extinction Rebellion has gone so far as to literally glue herself to a road.

This group is really going for it with their full-blown plan to take down the establishment and save the planet during its “October Rebellion,” which sounds promising but has done nothing but get 33 of them arrested (so far).

When one of their members named Tara glued herself to the road, they couldn’t have been more proud and ecstatic!

Yeh, I bet so. Just try and imagine how proud and ecstatic I’m gonna be when I binge-watch the upcoming YT vid of her stupid ass getting run over and squashed like a mosquito by a big fucking K-whopper T680 pulling doubles.

6

Sick, monstrous, evil

Your tax dollars at work.

“Our investigators show that Fauci’s NIH division shipped part of a $375,800 grant to a lab in Tunisia to drug beagles and lock their heads in mesh cages filled with hungry sand flies so that the insects could eat them alive,” the non-profit White Coat Waste project told reporters. “They also locked beagles alone in cages in the desert overnight for nine consecutive nights to use them as bait to attract infectious sand flies,” all to test an “experimental drug.”

White Coat Waste also claimed that some of the dogs had their vocal cords removed so their barking would not disturb the attending scientists. Rep. Nancy Mace fired off a letter to the National Institutes of Health, calling the cordectomies “cruel” and a “reprehensible misuse of taxpayer funds.” Mace is a South Carolina Republican but signatories to her letter included Democrats Cindy Axne, Steve Cohen, Jimmy Gomez, Josh Gottheimer, Ted Lieu, Mike Quigley, Lucille Roybal-Allard, Terri Sewell and Eleanor Holmes Norton, plus more than a dozen Republicans, including Reps. Brian Fitzpatrick and Maria Salazar.

Fauci earned a medical degree in 1966 but to avoid treating American soldiers in Vietnam, he hired on with the NIH in 1968 as one of their “yellow berets.” Fauci’s bio shows no advanced degrees in molecular biology or biochemistry, but in 1984 he became director of NIAID. Kary Mullis, who earned a PhD in biochemistry from UC Berkeley and won a Nobel prize for the polymerase chain reaction (PCR), called Fauci unqualified for the job.

“He doesn’t understand electron microscopy and he doesn’t understand medicine,” Mullis said. “He should not be in a position like he’s in.”

Of course, Thoroughly Modern Mengele hasn’t limited his twisted “scientific” experiments to animals alone. Ohhh no, not a-tall.

As UC Berkeley molecular biologist Peter Duesberg noted in Inventing the AIDS Virus,  Fauci networked with pharmaceutic giant Burroughs Wellcome and recommended azidothymidine, also known as AZT. The drug is marketed under the names Zidovudine or Retrovir, even though it “amounts to poison” according to Duesberg.

In 1989, Fauci’s NIAID conducted trials of AZT on pregnant mothers injected with HIV. As Duesberg noted, “A drug that interferes with growth can lead only to physical deformities in babies developing in the womb.” See also Poison by Prescription: the AZT Story by John Lauritsen, with a foreword by Duesberg, and this interview with former Harvard and Johns Hopkins molecular biologist Charles Thomas.  

When Duesberg challenged the government orthodoxy on AIDS, Fauci contrived to cancel his media appearances and the Berkeley virologist found his grants under attack. Fauci was hopelessly wrong about the spread of AIDS in the general population, yet he remained at the helm of NIAID.

The litany of horror, wanton cruelty, and pure evil continues on from there, only to wind up nowhere and then just stalling out completely.

The late Angelo Codevilla, a former staffer with the Senate intelligence committee, quickly pegged Fauci as a “deep state fraud.” In more than 50 years in government, Dr. Fauci never once had to face the voters. This is the person most responsible for wrecking the booming Trump economy and locking down the workers. The NIAID boss, now 80, showed little if any concern for the suffering Americans were forced to endure. Here is a medical doctor who first causes harm, so it makes sense that such a person would spend taxpayer dollars to torture beagles in Tunisia.

Republicans are calling for Fauci to resign and face prosecution for perjury. As with the dog-torture issue, Democrats should support a full criminal investigation of the NIAID boss.

Uh huh. Hold your breath waiting on it, whydon’tcha. Hey, maybe one of Lindsey Graham’s patented Blue-Ribbon Investigative Committees will “get to the bottom of this,” eh?

If a free America is to endure, white coat waste and white coat supremacy will both have to go.

Perfectly true, never gonna happen. You know it, I know it, we all know it. So NOW what?

In the wrong hands

Waitwaitwait…WHUT?!?

Alec Baldwin “Discharged” Prop Gun That Killed ‘Rust’ Cinematographer & Injured Director On Set; Actor Questioned And Released – Update

Ho. Lee. SHIT.

UPDATED with more law enforcement information: The Santa Fe Sheriff’s Department confirmed Thursday night that Alec Baldwin “discharged” the prop gun that killed one Rust crew member and injured director Joel Souza on the set of the Western feature film on location in New Mexico.

Director of photography Halyna Hutchins, 42, died not long after being transported to a hospital in Albuquerque, NM this afternoon. Souza, 48, remains in a local hospital; his condition is unknown.

“Mr. Baldwin was questioned by investigators and released,” a Santa Fe Sheriff’s Department official told Deadline this evening. “No arrests or charges have been filed.”

No, of course not. Unlikely there ever will be. Meanwhile, responsible, well-trained teenager Kyle Rittenhouse faces a very uncertain future at best, having A) shot someone in as clear-cut a case of self-defense as can be imagined, and B) no helpful connections among the wealthy, famous, and/or powerful, in sharp contrast to the unhinged asshole Baldwin. From the Santa Fe SD’s official statement:

Santa Fe County Sheriff’s deputies were dispatched to the Bonanza Creek Ranch movie set of the western “Rust”, October 21, 2021, when an 911 caller reported a shooting on the set.

The sheriff’s office confirms that two individuals were shot on the set of Rust. Halyna Hutchins, 42, director of photography and Joel Souza, 48, director, were shot when a prop firearm was discharged by Alec Baldwin, 68, producer and actor.

Ms. Hutchins was transported, via helicopter, to University of New Mexico Hospital where she was pronounced dead by medical personnel. Mr. Souza was transported by ambulance to Christus St. Vincent Regional Medical center where he is undergoing treatment for his injuries.

This investigation remains open and active. No charges have been filed in regard to this incident. Witnesses continue to be interviewed by detectives.

Baldwin, natch, is one of innumerable sanctimonious Hollywood gun-grabbers who flaunt their shameless hypocrisy by creating, acting in, promoting, and personally profiting from one guns ‘n’ gore-drenched feature film after another. Baldwin’s readily obvious ignorance and recklessness when it comes to the proper handling of firearms is even more appalling in light of his extensive record of violence, abuse, and over-entitled obstreperousness (sanitized as “a long history of fiery behavior” in the linked article).

And now, two guiltless people have been shot, one of them killed, by this “fiery” prick, waving a loaded gun around in total disregard for the safety of others nearby. How long will it be, I wonder, before we’re treated to the BLOCKBUSTER interview wherein he whines and pules at narcissistic length about how the REAL victim here is…Alec Fucking Baldwin.

(Via GP)

2

WAKE UP, BLACK AMERICA!

You folks know by now that I am resolutely immune to the bizarre ((((((JOOOOOOOOOOO!!!™)))))) obssessiveness currently fashionable in certain other quarters, for reasons I’ve already gone through here plenty enough times. Being more of a William of Occam devotee, I’ve never really had any truck with conspiracy theorizing of any flavor, which admittedly has become a much more difficult mindset to maintain the last two years. But once in a VERY great while, a conspiracy theory comes along that is so damned compelling, so brilliantly conceived, so clearly beyond argument that no sensible soul could possibly do anything other than embrace it without reservation.

This would be one of those.

San Francisco State University Prof Says Jewish Pot is Making Black Men Gay
“It is Jewish genius that has helped…to weaponize the weed.”

Wesley Muhammad believes that the U.S. government and the Jews are using marijuana to make black men gay. The “Pot Plot” is a popular theory in Muhammad’s Nation of Islam cult.

At the Saviours Day Convention in Chicago, an official Nation of Islam event, Wesley Muhammad claimed that, “It is Jewish genius that has helped… to weaponize the weed so that it may effeminize the black male of America. And be clear, it is Farrakhan and the Nation of Islam that is standing in between the total demasculinization of the black man in America.”

Some years back, Wesley Muhammad’s lecture, “How to Make a Homosexual: The Scientific Assault on Black America” was canceled at a Philly black beauty expo because of its hateful content. But what wasn’t good enough for the 23rd Annual International Locks Conference, a black natural hair expo, is unfortunately all too welcome at San Francisco State University.

It’s not too surprising that a black “wholistic” hair expo has higher standards than the most antisemitic university in America. Or that Muhammad fits in so well at SFSU.

“It is clear that the two most powerful lobbies in America – the Jewish and the Homosexual – are hellbent on the information in this lecture, “How To Make A Homosexualm (sic)” NEVER makes it to the public’s awareness,” Muhammad complained on Facebook.

San Francisco State University has however been happy to provide Muhammad with a platform despite no shortage of ethnically Jewish and gay people on the faculty and in the administration.

Wesley Muhammad’s bio at the taxpayer-funded university notes that he is a lecturer in the Africana Studies Department of SFSU’s College of Ethnic Studies. It mentions his publications in the Final Call newspaper of the Nation of Islam hate group, and his book, “Understanding the Assault on the Black Man, Black Manhood and Black Masculinity” which contains thoughtful chapters such as “Why Saggin is Faggin” and “Birth of the Black Man (God)”. 

This one scores straight A’s all across the board: for creativity; for originality; for weaving widely disparate threads into a wholly incoherent narrative fabric; for entertainment value; for sheer bugfuck lunacy, it tops every category. I must confess that I haven’t read all of it yet, mainly because I can only get another ‘graph or so deeper in before keeling over in helpless laughter and having to start all over again.

Damn pesky JOOOOOZ, getting all the brothas hung up on de weeeit ‘n’ fucking dey shit up ‘n’shit! Nomesay’n? Yup, it takes a nation of millions to hold ’em back. WE WUZ KANGS ‘N’SHIT!!!

6
3

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