GIVE TIL IT HURTS!

The dullards who rule us

Their arrogance is exceeded by only two things: 1) their ignorance; 2) their presumptuous, egomaniacal assertion that they, and they alone, are fit to rule us when they so manifestly are anything but.

ATF Chief Tells CBS He’s Willing To Skirt Laws To Ban Guns He Doesn’t Even Know How To Use
President Joe Biden’s Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms Director Steven Dettelbach seems to know as much about guns as Democrat-nominated Supreme Court justices.

During his appearance on CBS’s “Face The Nation” over the weekend, Dettelbach outlined for CBS News’s Margaret Brennan the ATF’s desire to ban certain firearms and modifications he claimed are loopholes in restrictive gun laws.

In the sit-down portion of his interview, Dettelbach claimed his 5,000-person agency is “way, way, way too small” to fully satisfy Biden’s gun-grabbing goals. He also admitted the ATF, even though barred from creating a federal database of firearm owners, still devotes its time and resources to “work within that system” and link guns to owners.

When the interview shifted to a demonstration featuring a table of unloaded firearms, Dettelbach tried his best to make the case for more regulation of law-abiding Americans’ top self-defense option. Even with the help of one of the ATF’s “leading experts,” however, Dettelbach failed to demonstrate knowledge of even the most basic firearm anatomy such as the difference between a clip and a magazine.

Acting AFT division chief Chris Bort, the “expert” present for the demonstration, also struggled to disassemble a pistol in an attempt to show how allegedly easily Americans can swap firearm frames. Bort is acting head of the ATF’s Firearms Ammunition Technology Division.

The vid of that bit is as hilarious as it is disturbing.


See what I mean about presumption and egomania? Surely this Bort chucklehead had to be well aware that he knew nothing whatsoever about the devices he’d be handling before a national TV audience as a scarifying demonstration of their monstrous lethality and ease of use—yet he couldn’t bestir himself to spend even a few minutes practicing with said devices in his swanky hotel suite the night before? Maybe doing a little light reading-up on his high-end laptop before bed, say, to avoid making a damned fool of himself before the TeeWee cameras in the morning?

In his predicament, wouldn’t you have? I sure would’ve. Any halfway sensible person would’ve, or so I’d expect.

But noooo. From all available evidence, these two abject feebs aren’t even smart enough to know they should be embarrassed by their spectacular self-beclownment—much less a tad more humble—as befits those who, in a more felicitous era, used to pridefully refer to themselves as “public servants.”

May I remind you: these are the shitwits spending God only knows how many taxpayer dollars to A) regulate and/or ban useful things which are beyond their meager comprehension; and B) pursue, imprison, and otherwise harass far better Americans than they’ll ever be, for the heinous crime of conducting themselves as if the clear, easily-understood words of the US Constitution still meant anything at all in Amerika v2.0.

May I also remind you: this dearth of intelligence coupled with supreme arrogance is hardly unique to the BATF, nor can these two assclowns be excused as the proverbial exception that proves the rule. Quite the opposite, depressingly enough: in FederalGovCo, it’s assclowns all the way down.

SOIA yet?

Walsh is.

THE COLUMN: Now They Tell Us
Breaking news from 2020: “It’s Official: We Can Pretty Much Treat Covid Like the Flu Now.” What do you mean “now,” white man? From the Wall Street Journal:

A case of Covid no longer means isolating for five days, according to the latest guidance from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention released Friday. It’s the latest sign of the virus’s normalization four years after it upended our lives. You should now follow the same precautions with Covid as you take with the flu, according to new guidelines from the CDC. That means staying home until you’ve gone a day with no fever and symptoms start to improve. Take other precautions for the next five days, including wearing a mask and limiting close contact with others. Those are the same steps the CDC recommends for other respiratory viruses.

At what point have we had enough from these people?

Some of us reached that point long ago; others never will, no matter what. Still others are actually all for it. I call those perfidious “people” The Enemy.

The Malevolent Midget is gone now, pulling down his handsome pension for his “service,” but the evil that he did lives on after him. Should Trump actually overcome the forces arrayed against him and actually pull a Grover Cleveland and get re-elected to the office from which a “fortified” election forcibly ejected him in 2020, a just universe would allow him to deal out some well-deserved payback for the forces behind the Russia Hoax, the Climate-Change Hoax, and the Covid Hoax, not to mention the abrogation of American sovereignty at the southern (and northern) borders, the collapse of the American military into a sob-sisterhood of feminist resentment and gay and “transsexual” triumphalism, and all the other ills currently attendant upon these United States.

What lessons can we learn from this belated admission that the entire clusterkluge was a “mistake”? How to compensate for those who watched their loved ones die from behind a plate-glass window in Mengele Memorial Hospital? For those who — like a dear friend and mentor of mine — died from a second shot of the “vaccine” in the early days of the panic? For the families disrupted, restaurants closed, businesses destroyed, industries wrecked — and all with the witting complicity of the mainstream media, which so enthusiastically hosanna-ed the official narrative, despite the evidence of their own senses?

“Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.” Isn’t that how the saying goes? I wrote my answer in this space almost a year ago. Never forgive, never forget, I advised.

Agreed, wholeheartedly—with an addendum: Make. Them. PAY. Every single last one of the rotten bastards, be he great or small. Mike is on board with that.

Hoaxes like these will never end until you do something about it. They will continue to pile on “catastrophe” after “catastrophe,” demanding that we do something about it right now, including changing some of our most fundamental laws and principles in order to combat a non-existent “threat.” The only thing these people understand is power. Not logic, argument, evidence, moral suasion. And the only way to respond to them is with greater power. Ask yourself this: what would the Romans do? To ask the question is to answer it.

If that’s a bit too oblique for ya, the answer is explicitly spelled out in one of the post categories below. The Bee gets the last laugh.

 


Turns out ol’ Frank was right about a lot more than just FauxVid.

Juiced up

Wow. I mean, just, like…WOW.

Shocking phenomenon: Alabama man struck multiple times by lightning in his lifetime, then gravesite also destroyed by lightning
Childersburg, Alabama is known as the oldest continuously occupied settlement in America. The city, which sits just 37 miles southeast of Birmingham was settled in 1540.

Legends and lore have passed through generations over the years, but one story, in particular, is a bit shocking.

William Yeldell Cosper was struck by lightning at least five times. However, two of those times were after death.

Born to the Rev. James Berry Cosper and Sarah H. Dejournett Cosper in 1844, Cosper would live for over seven decades before succumbing to his fate.

Rumor has it that Cosper survived being struck by lighting the first time. He was sitting on his front porch at the time. He was injured and it took time for him to recover. According to gravesite records, his wife, Martha Carolina Butts Cosper, helped nurse him back to health.

However, he had already had a close call before. A month prior to the strike that hit him, he and Martha were sitting in the front room of their house, spinning wool. A lightning bolt struck the wool, setting it on fire.

Certified Broadcast Meteorologist JP Dice said when a person is struck by lightning, injuries can vary.

“You can see someone’s heart stop because of the disruption of the electrical signals that drive the heart,” Dice said. “They can be revived by CPR in some cases. Also, when they are struck by lightning, there can be severe burns. A bolt of lightning can be over 50,000 degrees Fahrenheit. That’s hotter than the surface of the sun.”

There are no details on what Cosper’s injuries were, but he is thought to have had a short recovery. Not long after recovering from the shocking event, Cosper was inside his home in Monroe, Ouachita Parish, Louisiana, when it happened again.

Historical accounts do not reveal exactly where Cosper was in the house but this time, he would not survive the lightning strike. According to death records, Cosper died in 1919. He was 74 or 75 years old.

Cosper’s body was brought back to where he was born and he was buried in the Childersburg Cemetery.

And that’s when things started getting REALLY weird. All in all, a perfect opportunity for two (2) appropriate Tune Damage embeds, I do believe.

(Via Irish)

Update! A fun little Behind The Music story the first vid reminded me of, which I just cannot resist sharing with y’all. I’ll tuck it below the fold, so as not to annoy the non-guitar amp geeks who aren’t interested in this sort of arcana.

Continue reading “Juiced up”

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Da girlz can’t he’p it

The article’s title is waaay too close for comfort.

DMV America: The Regime’s Fani Willis Problem, and Ours
The fantastic fall of Fani Willis is one of the great comedies of recent American politics. It’s the flagrant corruption of Hunter Biden, mixed with the stupidity of Jussie Smollett, the courtroom farce of the George Zimmerman trial, and the sky-high political stakes of a U.S. presidential election. It’s the joyous, healthy humor of seeing a wicked, ridiculous person be exposed and get exactly what she deserves.

Right now, it still isn’t certain whether Judge Scott McAfee will actually kick Fani Willis off her own case, but even if he doesn’t, the damage has substantially been done. The tenuous prosecution of President Trump in Georgia has already been badly delayed and discredited, increasing its odds of being tossed by a higher court and the odds of the public simply shrugging its shoulders even if this abortion of a case somehow lurches all the way to a felony conviction. Left-wing anti-Trump zealots are practically begging Fani to step aside of her own volition for the good of the anti-Trump cause.

But they are unlikely to get what they want, for the same reason that this scandal happened in the first place: America’s regime elevated a clown-show affirmative-action incompetent who only cares about herself, told her that she was a big hero simply for existing, and now we are all reaping the consequences.

Follows, a bit of case-bolstering harking back to one Robert Mueller, Establishment Swine Esq, who actually comes off looking pretty good in comparison to these sorry-ass con artists. Then:

Now, take in all of that and go back to the adventures of Flim-Flam Fani.

Willis’s illicit relationship could have easily remained hidden, or at least inconsequential, if she had been even slightly less stupid. But she just could not help herself. It wasn’t enough to hire her lover. She had to make him special counsel on by far her most high-profile case, which would attract by a million miles the most press attention and the most expensive, diligent lawyers. It wasn’t enough to carry on a tryst with Willis. She had to go on one lavish vacation after another with him.

Willis’s excuses for her behavior are the sort that require a lobotomy to accept. Her relationship with Willis was entirely appropriate and aboveboard, yet Willis felt compelled to hide it because, well, *mumble mumble*. Was Willis using her highly-paid lover as a conduit to get those vacations? Not at all. By happenstance, Fani just keeps $15,000 (15 large) in cash in her home at all times for just this sort of thing. And by golly, it turns out Wade liked to do the same thing. How handy!

Good stuff so far, albeit disgusting and dismaying. Next up, a cpl-three more case-making examples—Kim Gardner, Marilyn Mosby, the particularly brazen grifter Tiffany Henyard (regarding whom the author cites a NYPost article I already had sitting in an open tab waiting for me to get around to it myself), Kim Foxx of Justice for Juicy! fame,—before we get down to the real nitty-gritty.

Yes, that Kim Foxx: the one who tried to let Jussie Smollett off the hook, requiring a special prosecutor to swoop in and save the day. When she wasn’t giving favorable treatment to black celebrities, Foxx ordered her minions to avoid cash bail and to only bring felony theft charges against criminals with at least ten prior felony convictions.

So, why would we expect Kim Foxx to hold a fellow soul sista accountable? For that matter, why would we expect anyone on the left to do it?

The modern left has almost wholly abandoned traditional religious faith, but it certainly still has its priests and saints. And the narcissistic message, repeated day in and day out, is that black women are America’s sacred beings. Joe Biden ran on a promise to consider black women, and only black women, for his first Supreme Court pick—93% of Americans need not apply. The result was Ketanji Brown Jackson, who can’t say what a woman is but nevertheless thinks the entire planet should hear every inane thought passing through her head.

As soon as Fani Willis’s own conduct threw the entire lawfare campaign against Donald Trump, years in the making, into doubt, the ethnonarcissist whining came tumbling out immediately: Criticizing a prosecutor for corruptly staffing her loser boyfriend onto a job he wasn’t qualified for was racist!

We’re not even close to rock bottom, either. Remember, as we speak, Kamala Harris is a heartbeat away from the presidency.

I must say, the piece is the most Godawfully RAYCISS!!!© slander of fine, upstanding, successful Blaque Wimminzxx ’n’ shizzle I ever did read.

And some people wonder how it is that the country got itself into the mess it’s currently in. If you’re one of those, you’ll want to read the whole thing for a big, fat clue. “DMV America”? That right there is some truth that really hurts, if you ask me.

Crapola, almost forgot my title-explicating embed.

There, that’s more like it.

Update! CederQ posts one over at Phil’s joint that is equally apropos to the topic at hand, I think.

Heh. Indeed. Two more good ‘uns perusable at the link.

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Clobberin’ time

Evil, pure evil through and through, and nothing but.

Medical Staff Ordered to Euthanize ‘Covid’ Patients: Leaked Docs
Explosive leaked documents have emerged that show medical staff were ordered to euthanize patients who had been admitted to hospital and tested positive for COVID-19.

The official documents were leaked from the UK’s state-funded National Health Service (NHS).

The docs further confirm the previous reporting from Slay News that revealed patients were euthanized in order to boost the numbers for “Covid deaths.”

As Slay News reported, smoking gun evidence revealed that tens of thousands of elderly people were murdered to boost the mortality rates.

The data produced for the report indicated that people were being euthanized using a fatal injection of Midazolam.

The cause of their deaths was then listed as “Covid,” indicating that the virus was killing far more elderly people than it was.

The explosive data from the report was made public by Australian politician Craig Kelly, the national director of the United Australia Party.

The report obtained official UK government data on death rates and causes.

While alerting the public about the data, Kelly declared that it exposes “the crime of the century.”

I keep having to repeat this, which gives me no pleasure at all, but: Just when you think we’ve hit Peak Evil©, the filthy barstids go and raise the bar again. Or, y’know, lower it, more like.

Granted, this revelation, sensational as it is, may or may not hold up when all’s said and done. I know nothing about Slay News, Craig Kelly, or his United Australia Party, and therefore can’t speak to their credibility, if any. Documents can be fraudulent; data can be manufactured and/or manipulated; some “smoking guns” can turn out to be firing blanks. As such, could very well be this is all horseshit of the purest ray serene; it is to be hoped so, certainly.

But if I were a betting man, which I am not, I wouldn’t put one thin dime on it. After all we’ve seen these past few years, would you? Famed FauxVid hoax/Vaxx skeptic Dr Robert Malone addresses the larger issue here.

A shadow now haunts my mind. I am deeply troubled in confronting the reality that the world and version of political truths that I have been propagandized to believe over my entire life is merely smoke and mirrors. A vague uneasiness has been lurking around me over these last four years; a sense that I have not only been censored, defamed, and lied to during the time of COVID, but over my entire life. A deeply disturbing specter that the United States government is not the knighted champion of Camelot so frequently and pervasively portrayed in media and literature. Rather its actions since WW II have been those of an immature, petulant and narcissistic adolescent that feels entitled to exploit geopolitics and war to advance short term power and economic objectives that benefit a small elite, rather than more broadly advancing “democracy”, global economic development, and those ephemeral aspirations of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Not only have I been propagandized and lied to, but I also sense that the window of time where this behavior by a monolithic Imperial state has been tolerated is coming to an end, winding and grinding down into mundane corruption, bickering self-interest and bureaucratic dysfunctionalism. And that there is no way to stop this accelerating funhouse carousel of painted ponies and mirrors before an abrupt catastrophic failure of the hidden gears throws all into revolutionary chaos.

Maybe something like this has been bothering you also?

Whether fortunate or not, we live in a time of both disruption and deception. A period when change has become an inevitable norm, and yet objective reality is considered an obsolete anachronism. An anachronism that cannot be tolerated, and must be twisted or expunged to serve the interests of those most powerful who will always act to maintain their privilege. Poised in transition between the relatively stable legacy “Pax Americana” bequeathed to us by American military and political victories over twentieth century totalitarian regimes, and fragmentation into an increasingly multilateral rough and tumble world characterized by shifting transitory alliances based on short term interests and opportunity. We all now confront a surrealist intellectual and psychological landscape where truthiness becomes just another product to be marketed. Or propagandized. Or censored. Marketing, propaganda and censorship each being subtle linguistic variations on a single theme of methods to exert external control over the thought and behavior of what otherwise would be autonomous, independent and sovereign individuals.

For many, including myself, the fabric of the widely shared belief in the benevolence of the American Imperial state has been irreparably rendered by the grossly dysfunctional national and transnational mismanagement of the COVIDcrisis. Others were better able than I to see through the cloud of propaganda and lies long before SARS-CoV-2 was constructed. A virus developed and assembled by a bizarre and improbable collusion between US-dominated “biodefense” intelligence interests, the Chinese CCP/PLA (and its dual function Wuhan Institute of Virology), and an international network of entitled biomedical researchers. 

But now the gloves are off, and as the underlying truths of this global tragedy are gradually being revealed, the American Imperial state and its allies (governments and corporations) are increasingly resorting to raw power to avoid the consequences of their actions. And with this, it is becoming easier to see the fist. A fist that takes the form of the most aggressive and pervasive global suppression of thought and speech ever witnessed in recorded history. One that is rapidly becoming normalized as an industrial/academic censorship and propaganda complex.

Questions, questions: Just how deep does this rot go, anyhow? Would a global cabal of developed-world governments actually resort to out-and-out murder most foul in the course of pimping their Absolute Power & Control agenda? Have we really tumbled so far as that down the slippery slope to bare-knuckled tyranny?

Most dismaying of all: At this point, dare we assume that they wouldn’t?

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The shakiest guns in the, umm, East

Q: Are cops in FLA the worst in the known universe?

A: Apparently, yes. Yes, they are.

Cop resigns after mistaking falling acorn for gunshot, firing at unarmed suspect cuffed in patrol car
A Florida cop resigned after opening fire on an unarmed black man who was handcuffed in his patrol car — because he confused the sound of an acorn hitting the vehicle with a muffled gunshot.

Okaloosa County Sheriff’s Deputy Jesse Hernandez handed in his badge in December following the Nov. 12 Fort Walton Beach incident, officials said Friday.

Sgt. Beth Roberts, who also opened fire, was exonerated in an internal investigation and remained on the job, according to police.

The suspect, Marquis Jackson, was luckily uninjured, but the “situation was traumatic” for him, police acknowledged.

The video of the incident is…well, quite frankly, it’s pathetic.


If you look closely, you can see the falling acorn highlighted against one of the light-grey rowhouses in the background, just before it hits the roof and scares Officer Pissypants out of his meager wits. Next up, vid of the other trigger-happy Deppity Dawg blasting away in “support” of her panicky fellow Offissa Pupp and likewise hitting nothing much.


Uh huh, luckily. A pair of regular Deadeye Dicks, these two. And just never anybody mind that these shooty-shooty knuckleheads popped off thirty rounds most ricky-tick (depending on issue mag capacity, natch; it coulda been sixty)—smack dab in the middle of a residential neighborhood, mind—at a handcuffed “shooter” who, presumably, had been patted down by Sooperdoopercop before he was ever put into the patrol car, thus already verified to be unarmed.

Presumably.

So guess what the PD review board “investigation” concluded regarding this disgraceful fiasco? Go on, guess. I dares ya.

Investigators concluded that Hernandez was culpable for a “policy violation regarding excessive use of control to resistance,” but that Roberts’ “use of deadly force was objectively reasonable.”

No criminal charges were filed against either officer.

Yeah, I thought not. But…“control to resistance”? SRSLY?!? There WAS NO resistance, of any kind. How the hell could there have been? The “shooter” was securely cuffed and locked in the squad car’s perp seat, behind the standard doors without handles, therefore posed no conceivable threat to anybody, badged/heeled or no.

Meanwhile, according to another Tweet I saw, Marquis Jackson (who will doubtless be known as “Lucky” to the other hoodrats forevermore), was cleared of his vengeful ex-ho’s firearms-possession accusations against him.

So at the end of the day it’s a happy ending, I suppose: Hernandez is off the force and out of a job he was manifestly unsuited for, and Jackson is none the worse for wear. Well, apart from the heart-attack-inducing levels of stress brought on by being the helpless, immobilized schnook used for target practice during a hot-range double mag-dump by two (2) cops, neither of whom had any business ever being handed a badge and a gun in the first place, that is.

For 2A folks as well, there’s a cherry on top of this shit sundae: we can take some small comfort that if it’s timorous, overwrought, weak-sister incompetents such as Hernandez and Roberts who’ll be tasked with tippy-toeing door to door to confiscate the guns, then we probably don’t have a whole hell of a lot to worry about. They simply ain’t gonna be up to it, and if any hot-lead-exchange should break out, the Keystone Kops demonstrably couldn’t hit the broad side of a bull’s ass with a baseball bat if you gave ‘em three tries at it. The most serious hazard to firearms enthusiasts in such an eventuality will be parting a floating rib from its moorings, from laughing so damned hard at them.

I dunno, though; kinda makes me wonder if there might not be something to all that angst, dread, and fear the boogs have for years claimed to suffer from merely being in the general vicinity of uniformed 5-0 after all, though I’ve always dismissed that shit out of hand until now. Either way, somewhere out there the infamous “Broward Coward” must be breathing a deep sigh of relief at seeing this mind-bending clusterfuck, secure in the knowledge that he’s at last been outdone by the Excessively Dynamic Duo© and their assclownish antics.

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Flapmeat

Don’t give a tinker’s damn about the story itself, what I really want to get at is the bizarre phenomenon going on with Grampy Griftey Gropey’s chinticles.

See that shit? What the HELL is going on wid’ dat? Did Bribem’s saggy, withered ballbag relocate to hang off the bottom of his face spontaneously or something? My God, it even appears that, as with most boys, one nut is only partially descended. What a whacked-out freak this distorted Pedosaurus Wrex truly is, in every least way—physically, mentally, ethically, you name it.

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Congresswoman Ilhan “Omar,” D-Mogadishu

Oh, fret not, she’s representing her constituents and her country all right. It’s just that her constituents aren’t Americans from her Congressional district in the state formerly known as Minnesota, and her country isn’t what we sometimes mistakenly refer to as the United States of America.

I’ve Been Identifying Ilhan Omar as ‘D-Mogadishu’ for Years. It Turns Out I Was Right.
Ilhan Omar rocketed to notoriety a few years back by warning that some American officials have dual loyalties. As it turns out, she was one of them.

Back in 2019, the winsome and patriotic congresswoman had the courage to declare, “I want to talk about the political influence in this country that says that it is OK for people to push for allegiance to a foreign country.” She was talking about American officials who supposedly had loyalty to both the U.S. and Israel, but on Sunday, a video appeared on X showing Omar telling a Somali crowd that they all were “Somalis first, Muslims second.” Nothing about being Americans. And that was the least jarring and offensive part of the speech.

Omar was speaking in Somali, and the translation was made by someone who clearly opposes her; however, in response to the controversy that her statements sparked, she didn’t take issue with the accuracy of the translation, but only with its interpretation. To a certain extent, Omar is right about this. She is being criticized for saying, “We Somalis must have the confidence in ourselves that we call the shots in the U.S. The U.S. government will only do what Somalians in the U.S. tell them to do. They will do what we want and nothing else.” 

That sounds terrible, but an Omar defender on X contended that it was innocuous: “Omar says she is representing the interests of Somalis in the United States, which is a legitimate task, as a Congresswoman in any democratic system.” Commenting approvingly on that post, Omar herself added: “It’s not only slanted but completely off, but I wouldn’t expect more from these propagandists.”

All right. Certainly, a representative should stand for the interests of his or her constituents. Everyone acknowledges that. But Omar was speaking in Minneapolis and yet says nothing, at least in the available video, about fighting for her constituents’ interests in the United States. Likewise, she says nothing, as you’d expect, about fighting for the interests of the U.S. itself. Instead, she says that the U.S. government “must follow our orders and that is how we will safeguard the interest of Somalia…Sleep in comfort, knowing I am here to protect the interests of Somalia from inside the U.S. system.”

In the speech, Omar said of herself: “The woman you sent to Congress is working day and night to protect your interest. She knows your plight and that of Somalia. I am as concerned about Somalia as you guys are. Together we will protect the interests of Somalia.” 

That’s swell, but members of the U.S. House of Representatives take this oath: “I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter: So help me God.”

Do you see anything in there about protecting the interests of a foreign country? Neither do I. Ilhan Omar has the dual loyalties that she has claimed supporters of Israel have. In the wake of the release of this speech, many are calling for her to be expelled from the House à la George Santos, and she should be. But given the left’s tendency to circle the wagons and defend its own no matter what, that is about as likely as Old Joe Biden uttering a coherent sentence.

Expelled from the House? She ought to be expelled from the goddamned country and sent straight back to the shithole whence she slithered and slimed her way to our shores, with a quickness. But none of us should be holding our breaths waiting for it. Lest we forget:

The repellent Ilhan Omar—a traitor to this nation condemned by both her words and her deeds, and who is in this country illegally—will not be censured, expelled, impeached, or deported. There’s a reason for that, a most shameful one: it’s because WE are the ones who failed to learn the lessons of the Black Hawk Down incident, not her. Clearly, she learned and understood them completely.

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WHEW, what a relief!

Comic relief, that is.



Um, sorry, Dana, but…”just following orders”? NOT cool, not in any way, shape, or form—not in 1943, not now, not ever.

I was saving that one for tomorrow night, but it fits in way too perfectly here. As for the misbegotten TSA, it’s no more nor less than another greedy, grasping tentacle of the neo-Nazi Überstadt Leviathan which simply has to go—“cool” guys who are “just following orders” and all.

No more Mr Nice Guy update! Lest there be any further misunderstanding about what’s really at stake here, Michael Walsh spells it out.

THE COLUMN: To Save America, Abolish the TSA
T&he Fourth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution reads: “The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.” Nevertheless, like so much else in the Bill of Rights, those sentiments are no longer valid, especially when you’re shuffling your way, shoeless and beltless, through the sheep pens of the Transportation Security Administration, George W. Bush’s gift to the American traveling public.

In retrospect, it’s clear that Osama bin Laden emerged the victor of 9/11. He brought down the Twin Towers and took a chunk out of the Pentagon, severely wobbled the American economy, destroyed the freedom of the skies, set the American government haring after all sorts of villains but not a single enemy it would name, and made himself a martyr. Worst of all, because of the actions of 19 Muslim hijackers, most of them Saudi nationals but all of them members of the Islamic ummah, he panicked the U.S. government into presumptively criminalizing more than 300 million American citizens with the passage of the Patriot Act and the creation of the Department of Homeland Security and of the TSA, a mortal sin that will live in infamy.

What about safety? Surely you jest. To previous generations of Americans, the idea of trading liberty for safety would have been laughed out of court, but a fearful, feminized society won’t even hesitate. Curtail your freedom of movement and subject yourself to intrusive, sometimes bodily, inspection every time you wish to travel by plane? Why not? If it saves just one life…

One byproduct of Big Brotherism has been the creation of “protected classes,” against whom no voice can be raised. Their numbers include (hang on to your hat): “age, ancestry, color, disability, ethnicity, gender, gender identity or expression, genetic information, HIV/AIDS status, military status, national origin, pregnancy, race, religion, sex, sexual orientation, or veteran status, or any other bases under the law.” Thus, in the name of equality — now redubbed “equity” — the U.S. has become a profoundly anti-egalitarian nation with a two-tiered system of justice that stands in open violation of every Constitutional principle.

Dismantling the Surveillance State and its bureaucratic accretions like Homeland Security is, alas, the work of years, decades — if it even can be done. The guiding principle of all toxic amoebas, even those as gargantuan as a federal department, is self-preservation. Once birthed, they aspire to immortality. The western Roman Empire maintained the fiction of consuls right to the end. But we have to start somewhere, and the noxious TSA is as good as place as any.

Well, it might be, if we assume it’s still possible to vote our way out of this—ie, that FederalGovCo will simply stand idly back while we go about the business of dismantling it via regular Constitutional order and process. None of which any longer, y’know, exist, either de facto or de jure.

That being so, and it is, we’re left with just the one discomfiting conundrum: to defeat them, we must become more like them. Longtime Constitutional conservative Alice Cooper long ago told us where that must necessarily start.

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America’s toxic business culture

I’ve been muttering about where things were headed since the late 80s, when getting an MBA and starting out in middle-management replaced rising through the ranks from the factory floor to eventually land in the executive suite as the primary model for success. And now, well…here we all are, staring at the pluperfect example of that lamentable development: Boeing.

Boeing was once a well-run engineering company that became very profitable from its well-engineered products. It is now a poorly-run manufacturing company being managed in the manner taught in elite MBA programs, placing an emphasis above all else on cost control and expense reduction.

It is also a company whose current version of its workhorse product, the 737 Max, continues to have catastrophic in-flight failures.

Part of the 737 Max fleet has been grounded, again, this time after a door plug came off the fuselage of an Alaska Airlines airplane while in flight. Back in 2018 and 2019, there were two fatal 737 Max crashes, both apparently related to poorly designed and programmed flight stabilizer systems.

There is so much more that needs to be said about the toxicity of the “slash and cut your way to increased profit” culture that is learned at business schools, but I’ll briefly summarize that putting the “Chief Cost Cutter” at the helm of a corporation is just as ridiculous as putting the Accounts Payable Manager or Facilities Manager in charge of all operations. They’re all important roles, but you would not have the entire company focus almost exclusively on just one of those facets. Yet too many modern executives have a monomaniacal obsession with cutting costs and expenses, which causes neglect of innovation, quality, safety, and new product development, if not outright hostility toward those critical areas. It also causes a loss of important talent whose legacy knowledge has a value that can’t be quantified on a financial statement.

Throckmorton goes on to cite, at length, a seminal Atlantic piece which appeared in the wake of the 2019 crash, to wind up thusly:

If I can make a quick side note, the only people more destructive in corporate C-suites than Ivy League business school graduates are General Electric alums. They tend to bring a cult-like fanaticism for the idiotic business fads that ultimately destroyed GE, never understanding that the success of GE in the 1990s was despite those awful gimmicks, not because of them, and that the subsequent destruction of GE as a successful company in the 21st century was largely because of all the gimmicks that came to define GE’s culture.

Right now, there is much well-deserved mockery of Boeing and Alaska Airlines for how their focus on DEI and LGBTQ has distracted them from manufacturing and operating airplanes that don’t fall apart mid-flight. I have no doubt that if Alaska Airlines spent more time inspecting its airplanes rather than decorating them in rainbow colors and putting on drag shows, this latest incident would not have happened.

But neither would it have happened if Boeing was still a company run by engineers, rather than being a company run by MBAs who will gladly sacrifice quality and safety to temporarily goose the bottom line.

Quelle surprise, that a communist-run nation should lose touch so completely with its capitalist roots.

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Masks are slipping all over the place

Most. Transparent. Facade. EVAR.

Biden in dark over defense chief’s cancer for month
President Joe Biden was kept in the dark over his defense secretary’s cancer diagnosis and subsequent hospitalizations for about a month, the White House admitted Tuesday, as details of Lloyd Austin’s deeply unusual disappearance raised questions about leadership of the world’s top military.

The 70-year-old’s failure to disclose his hospitalization has prompted an extraordinary row in Washington and could be embarrassing for Biden, who faces multiple foreign crises in his reelection campaign year, including in Israel and Ukraine.

As defense secretary, career soldier Austin is personally overseeing military deployments to try and contain fallout from the Israel-Hamas war, which has sparked violence against American forces in Iraq and Syria as well as attacks on international shipping in the Red Sea.

After days of refusal to issue details, the Pentagon came out Tuesday with its first full account of Austin’s health issues, but the new transparency came too late for a clearly upset White House.

According to two of his doctors from Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, Austin’s prostate cancer was detected as a result of routine screening in early December.

He underwent minor surgery to treat it on December 22, returning home the following day, the doctors said, referring to a procedure the Pentagon had previously been describing as “elective.”

However, Austin was readmitted to the same hospital on January 1 due to complications “including nausea with severe abdominal, hip, and leg pain,” they said.

“Initial evaluation revealed a urinary tract infection,” while medical personnel found “abdominal fluid collections impairing the function of his small intestines” after Austin was moved to intensive care on January 2.

White House National Security Council spokesman John Kirby made clear that Austin had not followed procedures.

“It is not optimal for a situation like this to go as long as it did without the commander-in-chief knowing about it or the national security adviser knowing about it, or frankly other leaders at the Department of Defense,” Kirby said during a briefing at the White House.

“It’s not the way this is supposed to happen…It’s not good. We want to make sure that it doesn’t happen again.”

Kirby insisted that Biden retains “complete confidence” in Austin and was looking forward to having him back at the Pentagon.

Yeah, tell me the one again about how ANY of these boobs—Bribem, Austin, Kirby, the whole clown-car load of ‘em—is actually in charge of anything whatsoever, Daddy. That one’s my favorite.

I need to establish a new category for this sort of thing, I’m thinking. “Deep State maskirovka” is pretty good, but doesn’t hit the mark quite as squarely as I’d like. Not sure what the name for it oughta be, but I’ll come up with something.

Update! So far I’ve got it narrowed down to six possibilities:

  • Frontmen, figureheads, and marionettes
  • The Great And Powerful OZ!
  • The Not-Ruling Class
  • Shadow-State kabuki
  • Signifying nothing
  • All the Washington world’s a stage

Preferences or suggestions of your own, anyone?

Updated update! Ace sees through it…almost.

White House Orders Cabinet Heads to Inform the “President” If They Cannot Perform Their Duties
—Disinformation Expert Ace

Let me save everyone the time: None of them is capable of performing their duties. Pete Buttigieg fucked off to play mommy for months and months and then have a secret vacay in Portugal and no one even noticed he was gone.

A “president” who even has to give this “order” (or strong recommendation) is obviously not really the president.

Annnnd bingo. In the next line, Ace says it’s “Obama’s staffers” who are in charge, but as much as it may seem so at times, I remain extremely skeptical. As far back as 2008, I maintained that the Boy Who Would Be King was nothing but a ventriloquist’s dummy himself; the man with his hand up Charlie McCarthy’s butt making his lips move was who really brought the act to life.

In fact, though, it isn’t even the Edgar Bergens who are of supreme interest here. The Grey Men skulking in the wings who don’t have faces; don’t have names; never do interviews or appear on the Sunday shows; and who don’t ever stand for “election” are the ones who must be sought out and uncovered. Otherwise, we’re still just playing the same old game, tilting at the same old (replaceable) windmills, dancing to their tune as always.

It’s a daunting task to be sure, but until the backstage string-pullers are at last brought out into the bright lights at center stage, willing or not, there can be no real hope of bringing the final curtain down to close the long-running Amerika v2.0 Show once and for all.

And even that arduous quest, should it be successfully accomplished, will be just the first step. Makes you respect the Founders more than ever, don’t it?

Update to the updated update! Gee, ya THINK?

Via WRSA.

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Pseudo-intellectual self-beclownment

Oh for the love of…

The Thrill Of Word-Policing
Come, dear reader. Let us visit the publication now laughingly referred to as Scientific American. In particular, an “analysis” piece by Juan P Madrid, in which we’re told,

The language of astronomy is needlessly violent and inaccurate.

Dr Madrid, an assistant professor at the University of Texas Rio Grande Valley, begins his attempt to persuade with a tale of poetic drama:

This summer, a team of students and I were enjoying breathtaking views of the night sky while we collected data using telescopes at the McDonald Observatory in West Texas. One night, when we were outside on a telescope catwalk…one of my students amazed me with her interpretation of the fate of Andromeda, the galaxy closest to our Milky Way. In describing how these two galaxies will merge a few billion years from now, she said they will experience “a giant galactic hug.

I know. The very stuff of amazement. Brings a tear to the eye.

The kindness, but also the accuracy, of the language my student used was in sharp contrast to the standard description we use in astronomy to explain the final destiny of Andromeda and the Milky Way: “a collision.”

Apparently, the word collision is, for Dr Madrid, much too brutal and masculine when referring to the unstoppable convergence of two galaxies, and the subsequent merging of the supermassive black holes at their centres – an event that will entail the sling-shotting of countless stars and their orbiting planets, and which may release energy equivalent to around 100 million supernova explosions, and subsequently be detectable halfway across the universe.

A mere hug, you see. All that kindness.

A galactic hug is scientifically truthful, and it’s led me to believe that astronomers should reconsider the language we use.

Here, Dr Madrid’s own use of language – specifically, the word reconsider – is somewhat misleading and just a little coy. The reconsidering he has in mind would of course be enforced by those suitably enlightened, much like the author himself – as hinted at with enthusiasm later in the piece:

Referees, editors, and editorial boards can step up to…stop the use of violent, misogynistic language that is now pervasive.

So, not so much a reconsidering, then, as a coerced neuroticism. A mandatory affectation, on which career progress may very much depend. But hey, where’s the fun in being a pretentious and neurotic scold if you don’t have the power to make others jump through hoops?

Jeez-O-PETE, but what a fucking loony-toony-maroony. Improbable as it may seem, these self-styled SooperDooperGenii© never cease to amaze: forever coming up with new ways of bringing saner, more sensible sorts to a dead screeching halt, scratching their heads in awed stupefaction at yet another wondrous exhibition of rampant, pointless imbecility. No matter how extreme, how over-the-top SPECTACULAR the previous ludicrous record-setter was, they nevertheless contrive to raise the bar of Teh Schtoopid with each successive outing. It’s damned nigh miraculous, really.

And to think: within about a week, no more, another Halfwit Hall O’ Fame hopeful will come staggering along to make this week’s tromping of one’s own dick nonpareil look like weak beer in comparison.

Dr Madrid being an astronomer and college prof and all, you’d think a well-above-average level of intelligence would surely have been required just to land the job at all, much less keep it for more than, say, three or four hours. And yet.

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Yes, Virginia, there IS a Santa Claus

NOTE: Earlier yesterday the blog started behaving strangely, so I dashed off an email to my old friends at Hosting Matters to inquire what the Sam Hill might be going on. In the course of so doing, I veered off on another of my Standard Issue, Mark 1-Mod 0 digressions which, on reflection and with some revising, I decided might be worth bringing out front here as a post. YMMV on that, as always. Be aware that what follows may offend hardcore fundamentalist Christians; this one’s about Santa Claus, not the birth of our Lord and Savior. I think Christmas is plenty big enough to easily accomodate both Jesus and Santa without undue stress or strain. It isn’t a competition, or at least it needn’t be. But again, YMMV.

Still can’t believe my ex told our daughter there was no Santa Claus at a very early age, because, and I quote, “I’m not gonna lie to her.” My recently-deceased mother in law did the same with my late wife Christiana, saying she didn’t want her child growing up all resentful and unable to ever trust her mom again from the trauma of having been “lied to” about Santa as a little kid.

I never understood the killjoy thinking which underpins that notion, and hope I never will. These are both extraordinarily intelligent people we’re talking about here, one of whom can casually converse in Ancient Greek, the other of whom was fluent in seven (7) languages. So one would think they’d be capable of grasping a distinction as simple and obvious as this one is.

I mean, there are lies and then there are lies, right? The Santa myth is hardly a “lie,” not in any meaningful sense. It’s a wholesome fable passed on from parents to children not for purposes of harm or malicious deception, but to broaden a sense of imagination and wonder, of there being marvelous possibilities in this wide world which we pitiful humans can neither see nor comprehend.

Well, that, plus it’s a heck of a lot of good, clean fun for everyone involved, be they old, young, or young at heart.

I Believed© as a child myself, and will readily attest that, after I’d figured it all out on my own, far from losing trust in them or feeling betrayed, I actually felt deeply grateful to my mom and dad for making the effort to bring me the magic of the North Pole’s First Citizen every Christmas, for at least the short while it lasted. In fact, even after I’d outgrown my own childhood faith I nonetheless went on insisting to my little brother that Santa was real for a few more years, just to keep that beautiful magic alive in him. Lord knows every innocent child will have to face the cold, hard realities of life quite soon enough, thanks.

To this day, some of my happiest, most cherished memories are of my brother and me dashing off to bed no later than 6 or 7 on Christmas Eve during those precious Santa years, to the barely-suppressed amusement of the grown-up contingent. The two of us would lie there sleepless half the night, now and again whispering urgently to each other: “What was that? Did you hear a noise? Was that reindeer hooves on the roof? Were those sleighbells jingling? Is Santa coming, is he (gasp) HERE?” Now and then one of us would stealthily rise, press his face to the bedroom window, and expectantly peer through the frosted panes for some hint as to what was happening out there. Finally, as the hands of the clock crawled towards midnight, we’d drop off to sleep, those visions of sugar-plums dancing in our heads.

No Santa, eh? That necessarily means:

  • No meticulously-composed letters addressed to him at his North Pole toy-manufactory, with the attached Christmas list
  • No lying on the sitting-room rug poring over the Sears Wish Book, scrawling down item after item from the catalog’s delightfully lavish toy section to include on said list
  • No sitting on Santa’s knee at Woolworth’s, telling him what you most hoped he’d bring for you this year
  • No intellectual discussions with the other neighborhood kids on all the imponderables: whether reindeer really can fly; how was Santa going to fit all those toys onto the sleigh; how could he manage to visit every Good child across the entire planet in a single night, etc etc
  • No anxiously X-ing out each December day on the wall calendar before going to bed, waiting on tenterhooks for the Big Day to at long last dawn

Ahh, but is that all, you ask? Sadly, no; not by a long yard, it ain’t. If those were the only things lost by it, perhaps ruining your kids’ Christmas via murdering their belief in Santa—forever depriving them of those happy childhood memories before they even get to experience the making of them—might be at least arguably comprehensible, if still not entirely forgiveable. The preceding list is nowhere near complete, there’s still lots more losses to be tacked on. To wit:

No setting out the traditional plate of oven-baked cookies and a tall glass of cold milk for good St Nick’s refreshment just before turning in for the night, to find the cookies eaten and the milk-glass empty in the morning—this discovery taken as proof beyond debate of his existence.

No jolting wide-awake at 4AM Christmas morn and sloooowly tiptoeing down the hall to the living room to find out what was under the tree, stifling your happy giggles to the best of your ability every step of the way so’s you didn’t wake up Mom and Dad. Should you unintentionally interrupt their hard-earned slumber despite your most earnest effort not to, your exhausted parents—plumb tuckered from the long night’s labor of retrieving all the presents cached in the attic, inside locked closets, the trunk of the family car, and/or other Secure Undisclosed Locations, next arranging them under the tree according to intended recipient (mine on the right side, Jeff’s on the left in our house)—would gruffly order you back to bed to await what they considered to be “a decent hour.”

THEY consider. Not you. And count on it: you will NOT agree with their views on the matter.

The splendidly trimmed tree, for just this one supreme night of nights, would have been left plugged in (by “Santa,” natch) and twinkling through the hours of darkness, gayly greeting the family upon each one’s arrival in the living room. The multicolored C7 bulbs would shine all through Christmas Day, their soft glow seeming no less bright or in any sense diminished by the daytime sun streaming through the parted curtains.

No establishing the line of demarcation between My Side and Your Side of the tree, before finally just giving up and deciding to share each other’s Santa Claus bounty without rancor or recrimination. No Christmas stockings a-bulge with candy canes, fresh fruit, and incidental stocking-stuffers such as Matchbox cars, kazoos, or harmonicas, either. After all, if there ain’t no Santa Claus then who’s gonna stuff ’em?

No ANY of those fine and wonderful things. The wrapped, labelled boxes that had been sitting under the tree for weeks, the pile steadily growing as the gift-wrapping chores neared completion? They could wait. Who really cares anyway? Those damned boxes always turned out to contain new school clothes or notebooks or pencils or some other equally dull and useless object. No, the unwrapped Santa Claus presents left atop and around the gift-wrapped rectangles were Priority One for us.

And my God, our house didn’t even HAVE a chimney, either—presenting another impenetrable Christmas-morning conundrum for us bewildered kids to ponder and discuss. Had Santa broken in, picked the lock, forced his way in someotherhow like a cat-burglar without anyone detecting the agreeable incursion? Had my dad slipped him a key on the sly after we’d clambered down off Santa’s lap to tear around the store like wild Injuns, whooping, laughing, crashing full-tilt-boogie into the legs of tsk-tsk-ing shoppers in our mad celebration of another Christmas mission well accomplished?

Who really knew? Perhaps, perhaps not. In any event, the doors were all closed and locked, as were the windows. Nothing seemed to be amiss, nothing at all, yet Santa had contrived to enter our small-town sanctum sanctorum nonetheless. Phillip Marlow himself would find it tough sledding indeed to unravel such a tangled skein of mystery, as would the Continental Op, the redoubtable Sam Spade, and Nick and Nora Charles. The overrated Frog Hercule Poirot? Gedouddahere, you make me laugh.

My poor kid was pre-emptively robbed of the anticipation, wonderment, and enduring pleasure the Santa Claus myth creates in the memory of every child not so thoughtlessly denied them. Daddy’s opinion on the topic at hand was neither solicited nor welcome. Kinda sucks, if you ask me. In fact, it seems downright cruel to cheat a young ‘un in such a fashion, solely for the gratification of one’s own sanctimony, ego, and cynical self-regard.

“Honesty”? “Truth”? “Not gonna lie”? Yeh, yeh, yeh; pull the other one, it has a bell on it.

But hey, maybe that’s just me, I do admit. That admission made, though, in my view answering what we might call the Santa Question© in the peremptory, knee-jerk negative amounts to projecting an insipid, half-baked ethical imperative onto an issue possessed of no ethical involvement whatsoever, the injection of a fallacious assumption of ill intent (or, at best, unsophisticated, outdated habits of mind, however well-meaning they may be) into a stillborn “debate” when no such intent actually exists. All this nonsense, mind, predicated on a wholly hypothetical claim of psycho-emotional damage—a spurious claim for which there is not the thinnest, flimsiest shred of documentary evidence to support it.

They’re making mountains out of molehills, and I say it’s the bunk. The opening ‘graphs of the NY Sun’s timeless editorial response to young Virginia O’Hanlon’s 1897 (!!!) letter express the sentiment quite well, I think.

VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men’s or children’s, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

There, put THAT in your little pipe and smoke it, whydon’tcha. If you haven’t read the whole story before—which I find incredible, frankly—there’ll never be a better time than now to rectify that sad lapse in your edumacation.

No Santa Claus? Forbid it, Almighty God! There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

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A trifle too Satanic

This one is also going up in the Monday Eyrie meme-a-palooza later on (I’ll insert the link here when it does), but it’s so good I wanted to bring it here as well so as to give it the widest dissemination I possibly could.

Remember: they will always tell you exactly who and what they really are. They just can’t help themselves, actually.

(Via WRSA)

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