GIVE TIL IT HURTS!

A refreshing change of pace

The Monday Kunstler marks a milestone of sorts.

In normal times we anticipate the splendid gluttony of the American Thanksgiving, the fellowship of family and friends, with gratitude and remembrance of overcoming ordeals past. This year, though, we are a bit preoccupied with ordeals to come, and that nip in the November air conjures rumors of approaching hardship and cruelties we have no idea how we might overcome. These are not normal times.

What was normal, anyway? The second half of the twentieth century in Western Civ, the cornucopia of post-war America, paychecks that covered the house, the car, assured square meals, and quite a bit left over for Disneyworld, a place at the lake with a speedboat, and four seats at the ballpark. Normal was keeping a lid on discontent in foreign lands and containing our wicked obverse enemy, the Soviet communists. Normal was mom and dad together under one roof, expecting strangers to behave decently, order outside the home. Normal was thinking all that would last forever.

I idealize a bit. But many of you will recognize at least some of that being present in your lives for a while, at least. And you might agree that it all started breaking badly in the new century, clearly marked by the attacks of nine-eleven. What followed that wondrous enormity was the amazing and nauseating transfiguration of our country into the opposite of the old normal: broad financial desperation, broken families, strangers bent on homicide and mayhem, official tyranny of all kinds, immersive lying, failed institutions, foolish wars, nothing and no one to believe in, and the creeping suspicion that mysterious evil forces are running it all.

Somehow, we have managed to become our old enemy, the Soviets. The sprawling bureaucracy I call the blob has a blank check to control everything we do, to usurp our individual economic decisions, intrude on our very bodies, snatch us from our homes or lock us up in them, and force us to shut-up about all that. Unlike the Soviets, though, our blob is unable to suppress vile civil misbehavior, murder, rape, looting, car-jacking, robbery at the bottom and fraud, bribery, money laundering, insider trading, cyber-Ponzis, and racketeering, at the top. The law is a new wilderness of iniquity. Show me the man and I’ll find a crime to pin on him, Stalin’s KGB chief liked to say. Merrick Garland seems to like that method, too.

The oddest feature of this upheaval is that the revolutionary youth in the streets and on the campuses are on the side of tyranny — as long as they are allowed to do some of the tyrannizing. The mobs and the blob officials mutually reinforce each other. The governor of Oregon, Kate Brown, did everything possible to protect Antifa while they destroyed the city of Portland. Mayor Muriel Bowser had Washington DC’s streets painted boldly to celebrate Black Lives Matter, after they torched the church across the street from the White House, occupied by the wicked Trump. Lately, the Ivy Leaguers stupidly shout for intifada and the allahu akbar of beheading — the innate sadism of Wokery on display for all to see. These mobs got tacit official permission to do their mob thing — except for the crowd that FBI blob agents turned into a mob on January 6, 2021. Permission denied! Instead, the people who “paraded” in the US Capitol got systematically hunted down by Christopher Wray. Can those luckless souls now serving years-long jail sentences possibly feel thankful for being born in the USA?

Read the rest and rejoice, for this time out Jim omits any mention of VOTING HARDERER AT THEM!!!© in the closing ‘graphs, and It. Is. Good.

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Milgram 2023

A recap.

Stanley Milgram’s experiment was conducted in 1963, before the internet, social media, and the complete takeover of the U.S. by the Deep State. His estimate that only 20% of the population have the critical thinking skills to defy authority may have been true in 1963, but I think it is far lower today. The powers that be (invisible government per Edward Bernays) utilize every tool at their disposal to make sure their authority is not defied. They have perfected Bernays’ propaganda techniques, integrating lies, misinformation and fear into their formula of control.

Witness everything that has happened in the last several years as proof they have been successful in suppressing any substantive defiance to their authority. The entire Covid scamdemic was a modern day Milgram Experiment and the vast majority of the world population were duped into believing the annual flu was such a horrific threat that they agreed to be locked down, lose their jobs, treat others like lepers, mask & distance, give their government unlimited authoritarian power, agree to censor and cancel critical thinking dissenters, and ultimately be injected with an untested, toxic, gene therapy that failed to combat covid, but certainly has caused millions of “sudden deaths”, turbo cancers, and myocarditis in young people.

Those who questioned the clearly stolen 2020 presidential election have been systematically destroyed by those in authority. Make a critical thinking case about rigged voting machines, fraudulent mail in ballots, or ballot stuffing, and you lose your livelihood, like being shocked in a Milgram Experiment. The authorities declared January 6, 2020 an armed insurrection, but no Trump supporters were armed or killed anyone. An armed black government thug killed an unarmed woman, but he was declared a hero by the authorities that engineered the fake insurrection.

That’s the lead-in to the final two devastating paragraphs, which you really, really, really want to read.

(Via WRSA)

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Church Militant

And not in the Dagger John Hughes sense, either. Not hardly. Quite the opposite, unfortunately.

Was St. Malachy Right?
These are hard times for conservative Catholics. For the past 60 years, they have had to watch their church gradually but steadily abandon many of its bedrock principles in what was at first an attempt to stay “relevant” but now looks very much a hostile takeover by the forces of relativistic “progressivism.” Under a series of weak and/or malicious popes, beginning with the unaccountably sainted John XXIII and continuing to the present day in the reign of the regrettable Pope Francis, the Church has abandoned its liturgy, its core beliefs, its traditions, its probity, and its sexual morality. Can things get worse? Of course they can.

Still, let us count the ways they already have hit bottom: During the Second Vatican Council between 1962 and 1965, much of the liturgy was “modernized,” starting with the traditional Latin Mass, called the Tridentine rite. No longer did the mass have to be universally celebrated in Latin, one of the faith’s two historic languages (the other is Greek); now it could be said in the local languages — a deliberate, disruptive balkanization of the faith that was in retrospect one of the first manifestations of the divisive “diversity” fetish that has taken hold in the West.

The priest, who formerly led his congregation by facing the elevated altar, now addressed the parishioners, thus making instant nonsense of his opening words, Introibo ad altare Dei — “I will go unto the altar of the Lord.” In the name of “ecumenicism,” distinctions between and among other faiths, including Judaism and rival Protestantism, were deliberately obscured. And the enormous library of sacred music, written over the centuries by some of the greatest composers, went onto the ash heap, to be replaced by mock-folk hymns sung by Peter, Paul and Mary imitators in order to get in synch with the folk-music revival of that period. It was all very current, now, hip, happening, and utterly awful.

Over the past couple of years, the first Jesuit pontiff, Jorge Bergoglio (an Argentine-born “progressive” Italian) has taken the strongest steps yet to outlaw the Latin Mass…

Last week the punitive primate fired a restive, rebellious American bishop for daring to challenge papal authority: “A statement from the Vatican posted online says ‘The Holy Father has removed Bishop Joseph E. Strickland from the pastoral care of the diocese of Tyler, United States of America.’ Replacing Strickland will be Bishop Joe Vásquez of Austin, according to the statement.”

Strickland, 65, has been publicly critical of Francis and the Vatican. He wrote an open letter in August suggesting the church’s “basic truths” would be challenged at a synod in September, and wrote that he believed an “evil and false message” had “invaded the church.” In another open letter the next month, Strickland addressed members of the LGBT community, particularly taking aim at trans people. “The transgender movement is another face of the LGBTQ agenda, and it is also at odds with the Catholic understanding of the human being,” he wrote in the letter.

It doesn’t help that Bergoglio is a Jesuit — a foundationally radical order that, according to Catholic insiders, has become a hotbed of homosexuality, which may account for this pope’s gay-adjacent theological preferences. Indeed, the Jesuits have distinguished themselves by their rampant apostasy during this parlous period for the Church. Their universities — Georgetown, Boston College, Loyola Marymount in Los Angeles, even Fordham — are among the most “progressive” in the nation, having largely abandoned their religious functions in favor of “diverse” secularism. Like Bergoglio, they’ve lost faith in their own faith — the end stage of any liberal enterprise.

None of this would come as a surprise to Malachy, the 12th-century bishop of Armagh and close confidant of Bernard of Clairvaux, the influential Benedictine abbot and one of the founders of the Knights Templar. While the canonicity of Malachy’s famous prophecies of the popes is roundly disputed (and I generally discount “prophecy” across the board), perhaps we should heed his words. The loss of faith at the top levels of the Church, the diminution of its adherents in the West — not to mention the weird rush to canonize the line of largely failed popes from John XXIII to John Paul II (strong on politics, weak on dogma), including the cipher, Paul VI — indicates an institution in serious trouble.

We might start with treating the Jesuits the way Pope Clement V did the Templars, dissolving the order and leaving them to the mercies of the French king, Philip IV, who executed their leaders in a grand auto-da-fe in 1314.

Not being Catholic myself, strictly speaking, I don’t feel myself qualified to offer much in the way of commentary or analysis. But for what it’s worth, I think Walsh just might be onto something there.

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FINALLY!

The Nazis take London.

80 Years After Hitler Failed, Nazis Finally Seize London
LONDON — Eighty years after Hitler’s failure, the Nazis have at last seized London.

“Hitler’s dream has finally come true,” said John MacDonald, watching as Picadilly was overrun with Nazis. “You just know that somewhere, Hitler is looking on today and smiling.”

As chants of “Death To Jews” and “Final Solution” rang through the London air, longtime Nazi leader Josef Schmidt was overwhelmed with joy. “After so many decades of being an outcast here in Britain, to now watch Nazis march through the heart of London yelling ‘Gas the Jews’ – well, it brings a tear to your eye,” said Mr. Schmidt. “I’ve had to hide my swastika flag for years, but no more! We’re going out for a triumphant walk right by Buckingham Palace.”

At publishing time, the London mayor was warning the Jewish community to refrain from engaging in hateful Naziphobia.

As of presstime, probably but not necessarily owing to his having died years ago, Brit fascist irritant Oswald Mosley was unavailable for comment. And, just to make it more difficult than it already was to discern whether the Bee is in fact satire, there’s this…

Newsom Deploys Giant Can Of Febreze Over San Francisco To Mask Poo Smell
“Come on, people! We’ve got to hide the aroma of dookie,” Newsom was heard shouting at city workers. “It’s fine for the city to reek of excrement under normal circumstances when it’s only Americans walking around trying to live their lives, but when a communist authoritarian comes to town, we don’t want him stepping off his plane and being greeted with a strong whiff of caca.”

The Chinese president was scheduled to arrive in the Golden Gate City today ahead of next week’s important U.S.-China summit with President Joe Biden. With much riding on the meeting of two of the world’s superpowers, Newsom wanted steps taken to address the city’s problems with cleanliness and its homeless population. “Governor Newsom wanted us to come up with a final solution to the homeless problem,” said one San Francisco official who asked to remain anonymous. “With that in mind, we’ve started rounding up all the homeless people so they can be concentrated in specially designated camps. We even transported them with their piles of poop so they will still feel at home.”

At publishing time, the giant can of Febreze was being positioned to begin spraying a wide radius across the city, with many residents secretly hoping the city’s areas densely populated with deodorant-resistant hobos would take a heavy dousing.

Parody? Reality? Is there really any difference anymore?

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Happy Memorial Day!

As ever, Pedo Pete is a bit confused.

Biden suffers ANOTHER embarrassing gaffe as he stumbles through Veterans Day service and appears to get lost while laying a wreath

  • Biden appeared confused at Arlington National Ceremony to mark Veterans Day
  • The president, 80, needed stage directions after laying a ceremonial wreath
  • In his remarks, Biden said ‘war and conflict’ are ‘part of the American story’

Biden was joined at Arlington National Cemetary by Harris, First Lady Jill Biden and Second Gentleman Doug Emhoff to celebrate the armed services.

Speaking before members of the Armed Forces and Gold Star families, Biden began: ‘Here in Arlington lie heroes who gave what President Lincoln called ‘the last full measure of devotion.’

‘They did not only die at Gettysburg or in Flanders Field on the beaches of Normandy, but in the mountains of Afghanistan, the deserts of Iraq in the last 20 years.

‘Hundreds of graves are here from recent conflicts. Hundreds of patriots gave their all, each of them leaving behind a family who live with their pain and their absence every single day.’

He added that veterans are the ‘steel spine of this nation’, and recounted famous battles that saw soldiers ‘linked in a chain of honor that stretches back to our founding days.’

‘This Memorial Day, we honor their legacy and their sacrifice, duty, honor to their country.’

Saturday’s service was the 70th annual National Veterans Day Observance at Arlington, and followed a private reception in the White House East Room for veterans and military officials.

What a sad, sorry joke this senile old kleptocrat is, was, and shall remain.

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Jewish “journalist” SHOCKED to learn murdering Hamas terrorists are, in fact, murdering Hamas terrorists

…and, being a pluperfect, Mark-1 Mod-0 example of what our blog-bud JJ Sefton aptly dubbed “self-gassing Jews,” is scrupulously careful to make sure that he learns absolutely nothing whatsoever else.

I’m a Jew at ‘The Guardian.’ I Don’t Feel Safe at Work.
An anonymous employee describes the hostile environment at Britain’s foremost left-leaning newspaper.

I wake up on October 7 to a text from my brother-in-law: “Thoughts are with your family in Israel. I hope everyone is safe.”

I check the news. Hamas has entered southern Israel. They’re in a kibbutz. My partner’s family is in that kibbutz. His cousin is nine months pregnant. He’s in contact with them; they’re in the safe room. Terrorists are outside.

I check social media. Reports of hostages, maybe three. I check again; perhaps ten.

There has been a massacre at a music festival. I look at the video. Who do I know there? I check social media again; there are videos of hostages. I look at their faces. Do I know them?

We lose contact with family in the kibbutz. I tell myself that the phone lines are down because the IDF are there. I watch Hamas footage as it is coming out. I go on Telegram for the first time in my life and I see a room full of bodies covered in blood. I see children gunned down. I see the bodies of raped women. I see families holding each other as Hamas livestreams atrocities. I look for people I might know.

I look at the papers the next day. The newspaper I work for has a tank on the front page: ‘Hundreds die and hostages held as Hamas assault shocks Israel’—victorious terrorists hold a Palestinian flag. The subheading reads ‘Netanyahu declares war as 150 Israelis die. 230 Palestinians killed in air strikes.’

I don’t understand. I know people, Israelis, who were murdered. They did not “die,” as if in some kind of accident. I saw footage of terrorism. It was not an “assault.”

On Sunday, we get more information about what happened to my partner’s family, about how Hamas set the family’s house on fire when they thought it was empty, how my partner’s cousin screamed for her life when the room filled with smoke, how her husband had to pin her down to stop her cries, how Hamas laughed when they realized the family would need to crawl out of the room, how they refused to leave the burning building. We hear that they somehow survived and walked out through pools of their neighbors’ blood, pieces of dead children littering the street; kids who’d been playing on a Saturday morning.

My group chats are exploding as family and friends work out what has been happening, who is alive. I go back to the news. I type the name of the kibbutz into the wires. Nothing. I read how Hamas invaded “settlements.” They’re not settlements! They’re small, pre-state kibbutzim.

I find out that a friend of a friend was at the music festival and is missing. I’m shaking at work.

I see a colleague who had posted about “decolonization” all over social media over the weekend. They’re laughing with the rest of their team. They’re having a great day. I used to love their podcast, full of hot takes and celeb gossip. Now they’ve evolved into an expert on the Middle East. It doesn’t look like their family is in the middle of it, though.

No one else at work speaks to me about it. I nod my way through conversations about fonts and I stumble home.

I go back the next day. I look at the front page. A photo of Gaza and “violence escalates.” Israelis “dead” but Palestinians “killed.” If they can’t empathize with the Jews now, they never will.

Hate to be the one to break it to you, schmendrick, but guess what: they never will. Nor will any but the tiniest handful of left-wing ((((JoojoojooJOOOOOOOZ!!!)))) learn, either. Too uncomfortable a truth for any diehard shitlib to ever even consider taking on board, see. Better get used to it, at least until you and yours somehow scrape up the stones to finally remove those tired, worn-out old ideological/intellectual knickers and try a new pair on for size. We won’t be holding our breaths for that, I’m afraid. Until then, it will remain as Ace says:

“If I just repeat the leftwing mantra that will protect me from their hatred.”

Can I see your ticket, sir? Yes, I see; your ticket is in order.

The trouble is, sir, that this ticket proves that you bought the ticket, and now you’ll have to take the ride.

I know: How could you have foreseen this? Socialists and communists are never antisemitic, never ever!

Pretty much, yeah.

How ANY self-respecting person of Jewish descent could even dream of aligning himself with the Left-wing religious creed—much less a solid majority of them—is way beyond me. Yet somehow…well, here we all are, as we have been for years.

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Shaking in their boots, they are NOT

Yeah, they’re afraid of us and all our big, scary guns. Just keep telling yourself that while clicking your heels together three times and maybe it’ll come true.

It’s been a while since the term studied insult was common in American discourse. Yet the thing itself has been much with us these past few years, so it’s well to understand what the term signifies:

studied insult: An insult carefully designed to pertain to a particular person or group, such that the insulted one(s) cannot fail to take note of the offense.

The intention is to give offense to a specific person, and in a specific way. The British have long been celebrated for excellence in this field.

The question good-hearted people of every kind have been asking since January 20, 2021 is simple and plaintive: “How could they not have known this would happen?” The stolen elections of November 2020 were followed by one incredibly “stupid” policy after another. Surely the Gentle Readers of Liberty’s Torch remember the high points:

  • Strangling the supply of oil and gas.
  • Opening wide the southern border.
  • Massive inflation of the currency.
  • Pansification of the military.
  • Involvement in Russia-Ukraine War.
  • Massive financial gifts to Iran.
  • Abandonment of $80 billion in weaponry to the Taliban.
  • Use of the DOJ and FBI as political tools.
  • De facto legalization of rioting, vandalism, vagrancy, and theft.
  • Sam Brinton, Karine Jean-Pierre, and “Rachel” Levine.

I could go on, of course. Every single thing in the list above was done deliberately, with full foreknowledge of its consequences. They were strokes intentionally delivered to achieve two effects:

To weaken the United States, whether politically, militarily, or economically;

To insult decent Americans so blatantly that there could be no doubt about it.

Many good-hearted people simply can’t believe that the Usurpers really meant to offend us so blatantly…that those were studied insults. But in fact they’d been planned since Donald Trump defeated Hillary Clinton in November 2016. Those barbs were intended to be blunt and brutal: We can do what we like to you, and there’s not one damn thing you can do about it.

I’m a fair hand with such things, and I tell you plainly: I could not have contrived more blatant, humiliating insults if I were given a decade to do it.

Francis has nailed it but good with this one, and Bayou Peter knows it.

I have to agree with Mr. Porretto. This is deliberate, in-your-face intimidation and triumphalism. “We got rid of Trump and his ilk, and now we’re in charge, and there’s nothing you can do about it!” That’s the message. That’s also why I, and many others, believe the 2024 elections will be a sham, and a fake, and a public lie. Having gone this far, the powers that be dare not see their handiwork overturned by another Trumpian revolution. They have to protect it, and themselves for having fostered and accomplished it: and that means we’ve probably seen the last free and fair elections in America for some time to come, until people get fed up enough to do something about the corruption and dishonesty that have come to rule the “old ways” of government.

Mr. Porretto asks, “What will we do on that day?” My question is, “When will that day come?” Either way, it’s not a comfortable thought. I’ve lived in disintegrating societies and nations in the Third World, and seen at first hand how many become casualties of the process – militarily, economically, socially, politically, culturally and in every other way imaginable. I think most of us will learn more about that in the not too distant future, because when the rot has set into a society as deeply as it has into ours, there’s a certain inevitability about the process. What’s more, unless the decent majority “screws their courage to the sticking place”, the end result is unlikely to be happy. The intimidation currently on display is designed to stop them doing that. Will it succeed? Or will it provoke them to say, “So far and no further!”?

Remains to be seen, I suppose, which we will soon enough. The one thing for sure is that, far from fearing us, all the evidence shows that in fact they despise us—that they hold us in complete contempt, and will go right on doing so until they’re given reason NOT to.

One of Jefferson’s most well-known apocryphal aphorisms sums up our condition more than adequately, as pithily and neatly as it’s ever been done: When government fears the people, there is liberty. When the people fear the government, there is tyranny. Whether Jefferson ever actually said it—it’s almost certain that he didn’t—is pretty much moot, because of the overwhelming truth of it. That being so, which of those two sentences best describes Amerika v2.0 today?

Some societies could USE reshaping

Sensing on where it all might wind up.

War and the reshaping of societies
Let me emphasize at the outset that my assessment of the looming Israeli invasion of Gaza is intended to be descriptive, not prescriptive. I am not proposing what Israel should do, but what it may do as the coming days and weeks unfold, even if Israel does not actually intend it now.

Having formed a “unity government” for the war, Israeli PM Benjamin Netanyahu has stated clearly that the permanent end of Hamas as the principal war aim. That this objective requires a land invasion of Gaza is also clear. But what can it take to destroy Hamas? Netanyahu has said that killing its terrorists fighters is a specific goal, but Hamas is not merely an organization. It is also an ideology. How does Israel end with not only the present Hamas organization destroyed, but also the ideology?

America’s Civil War and World War 2 may provide a clue. 

But first, what is Hamas’ ideology? 

It is very simple: Kill Jews, kill Jews, kill more Jews. Specifically, Hamas (and Lebanon’s Hezbollah) has said publicly and often that it has at least the following goals:

1. The elimination of the state of Israel and establishment of a Muslim nation “from the Jordan river to the Mediterranean Sea.” Jews must vacate this land entirely or they will be killed. 

2. In the meantime, and as a tactic to attain that goal, Hamas has said before and again very recently that Jews must be killed. Last Saturday, Hamas military commander Mohammed Deif announced, “Operation Al-Aqsa Deluge.” Al-Aqsa is the name of the mosque atop the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. Deif said that the mass killings of Israelis were a mere “first strike,” with much more yet to come.

Donald goes on to discuss the CW1 parallels as reflected in the total-war philosophy of Sherman, then hits lightly on Eisenhower before landing squarely on Roosevelt’s somewhat-belated WW2 realization:

Hence, wrote Roosevelt in a letter to Secretary of War Henry Stimson,

It is of utmost importance that every person in Germany should realize that this time Germany is a defeated nation…The fact that they are a defeated nation, collectively and individually, must be so impressed upon them that they will hesitate to start any new war.

Precisely so—then, now, and always. As I’ve said so very many times here, about both Muslim Supremacists and the American Left, so it was with Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan. As Sensing quips: “One notes that Japan and Germany have been well behaved since 1945.” One does at that. Thus do we arrive in the unlovely place we were always doomed to:

The End Game
At this point, both Israel and Hamas must realize that, as Gen. Douglas MacArthur said, “In war there is no substitute for victory.” Victory for Hamas can be defined very simply: it survives as an ongoing, at least minimally effective, violent anti-Israel entity as before. Hamas’ leaders know that to abandon murderous violence to establish a purely Palestinian state by political measures, rather than violence, means two things: (a) Hamas would not even be Hamas any more, so what is the point, and (b) mere politics will never accomplish that goal anyway. Hamas’ true believers would literally rather die than take that course.

As for Israel, its leadership at least knows that Hamas must be ended and no Hamas-by-another-name can be allowed. There is no answer to how long it will take to destroy Hamas or how many casualties it will cost. But neither Grant nor Sherman knew those things ahead of time, either. So Israel must proceed, though it is doing so as Otto von Bismarck reportedly said about going to war, “entering a dark room blindfolded to search for a black cat that is not even there.” 

Gaza’s residents, whether they know it now or not, must decide in whose hands they literally trust their lives and the lives of their children. Hamas is quite willing to sacrifice them. But they may come to realize that while Israel will not target them, neither will Israel refrain from attacking if Hamas militarizes their refuges. An international standard called Common Article 3 governs combat between state and non-state combatants. It states that civilians’ presence at a location does not automatically make that location off limits from attack.

S’truth. In modern, post-Napoleonic warfare, “civilian” doesn’t mean quite what it once may have. In fact, during WW2’s Ruhr Valley strategic bombing campaign civilians were redefined as “military assets” themselves due to their work in Germany’s military-matériel industry—steel- and ironworks, armaments factories, synthetic-oil refining facilities, among other things—centered there.

Official handwringing over “civilian casualties” might be all fine and well during times of (relative) peace, but once the two-way firing range has gone full-on hot, all bets—and gloves—are off. In guerilla warfare (ie, asymmetrical, 4G-5G, however you prefer to conceptualize it), restraint and “proportionate” responses will ultimately serve only to get even more of your civilians killed than might otherwise have been the case.

For the moment, Israel seems firmly committed to trading the kid-gloves in for a stout set of knuckledusters: razing Gaza to the ground, making the rubble bounce, and effectively depopulating the place. So be it, then; having been forced into the position of waging total war against a clearly-implacable enemy who has repeatedly, explicitly, and openly declared its intention to kill every Jew they possibly can, the Israelis must now see this thing through to the very end. Gaza may not survive; Hamas MUST not, period fucking dot. Sic semper jihadists, sayeth I.

Admittedly, this isn’t America’s fight. In truth, I seriously doubt whether—given our current sorry state of self-enfeeblement, in ways by no means restricted to military matters alone—the US could provide a whole lot of assistance anyway, to Israel or anybody else.

Send a couple carrier groups with newfangled electromagnetic catapults that won’t catapult, conned by Manwoman helmspyrsynnz who were never taught to navigate without crashing into other ships, seawalls, docks, and/or sundry land masses, their flight decks jam-packed with squadrons of combat-ineffective F35 Turduckens that are far too expensive to chance having to replace when they fall out of the sky inexplicably, or recover when the malfunctioning EM catapult lobs them gently into the sea? With a complement of overweight, out of shape lesbian Wokester-Marines in “support”?

Sure, why the hell not? Tell me the one about Goldilocks and the Three Bears next, Daddy, that one’s my favorite.

Expect any practical effect on the situation beyond humiliating self-beclownment, though? Surely you jest.

At this point, the best course of action for us is to firmly reject all pompous FederalGovCo demands that Israel be put back on its leash before any more Mooselimb terrorists get hurt; re-establish and secure the southern border; and muster the will to cleanse our own badly-broken nation of the domestic jihadist threat. A Sisyphean task to be sure, but that’s still just for openers. Sorry to bust any bubbles here, but there’s an extremely lengthy to-do list of domestic affairs needing to be settled before we can even dream of mucking about in anybody else’s.

After two decades plus of bootless circle-jerkery under the War on (Some) Terror rubric, we ought never to have wound up in such an awful fix. And yet, somehow, here we all are anyway.

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MOAR coinkydinks!

Divemedic reports on yet another J6 outrage.

More than 1,000 people have been arrested and charged for supposedly trying to overthrow the government on January 6. The FBI has left no stone unturned in identifying every single person who participated that day.

What is curious about this wide ranging investigation is that five men gathered on the National Mall directly in front of the Capitol, erected a gallows, with one of them making a coffee run during its construction. To a coffee house blocks away, located directly across the street from the headquarters of the FBI. I am sure that the HQ of the FBI has security cameras on it, yet not one photo of any of these men has been circulated, and not one attempt has been made to identify any of them.

Why not? If the FBI is so fired up about identifying a grandmother whose only crime was walking into the Capitol, looking around, then leaving, why aren’t they making an effort to locate the five men who threatened to kill members of Congress with their material act?

Of course, DM knows the answer as well as you do: because, since the five men were FBI agents provocateur, either CHS’s or agents, they neither need nor WANT to—they know full well who they are, and where. The vid DM mentions can be viewed here, including footage of the mystery man the open.ink website refers to as “Mr Coffee,” along with a request:

Who is “Mr. Coffee”?
If you know, or if you have any relevant information to share, please call 314-256-1776 or email at us at proamericareport@open.ink.

As always, this Special Collection includes links to our growing database of video, audio, articles, and other relevant information.

For those wishing to support the J6 Patriots and their loved ones, visit patriotfreedomproject.com.

Link transcribed for once, because it’s important.

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It’s morning Red Dawn in America

Probably the most important Twitter X thread you’re ever gonna see.


At the direct request of no less august a personage than the highly esteemed and estimable Elon Musk his own self,  Starbuck also posted a recorded version which, being more the written-wordly type myself, I didn’t listen to. But as always, YMMV; whether by ear or by Mark 1-Mod 0 eyeball, be sure to hit “Show more” and take in the whole thing. It really does say it all—and I DO mean all.

Via WRSA and Bracken, with sincere thanks to both for calling my attention to it.

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Moar inside-baseball music-biz schtuff!

Yet another repurposed comment I thought enough of you CF Lifers would find interesting, informative, and/or arcane enough to be promoted up to main-page status. First, the conversation-starter, courtesy of hhluce.

I think most “classic rock” stations are simply the digital version of a 24 hour tape loop without any human intervention, utterly soulless and boring, you can tell what time it is by what song is playing, day after day.

That triggered my response, which quickly outgrew its comment-section knickers and right on into a pair of Big Boy pants, before I ever even thought of hitting the “Post comment” button.

Oh, that is definitely the case, HH, has been for years and years. Mr Bill—a dear friend of mine who plied his On-Air Personality trade in unforgettable fashion for many years at WRFX in Charlotte (99.7 FM), after which extended star-turn he made his escape to the Florida beaches—used to gripe to me about the new radio-station production process all the time; he positively HATES it, as do all the other DJs I know. There’s a very good reason for their disgruntlement, one I can readily understand and sympathize with completely.

These guys (and several gals, too), without exception, grew up listening obsessively to radio, moved so much by the spell cast over them by the sound of those disembodied voices—cracking wise, spinning records, unleashing ad lib and in-the-moment a rock-steady flow of frenzied, improvisational platter chatter without a single stutter, stumble, or moment’s uncertain pause to give the more reflective and organized side of his DJ brain a chance to catch up—that a sweet, sweet dream took form deep in their hearts.

For all those kids who, like Mr Bill, got swept away in radio’s powerful thrall, the more they heard of this fresh new necromancy, the more adamant and implacable their resolution to somehow, someday, some way become a part of it themselves, no matter how lowly, thankless, and unheralded their first paid position in the business might be.

Nothing under Heaven would prevent or dissuade them from working their way up the radio ladder to the one place they so desperately wanted to be: all alone at the console in a dimly lit late-night broadcast booth, headphones on, waiting for the red “ON AIR” sign to light up, cueing him to start his spiel. In those anticipatory moments, the fearful pressure of being The Man On The Spot suddenly felt less intimidating and more exciting to The Man In The Booth.

These DJs were passionate about broadcast radio, deeply proud of the essential role they played in its continuation and development. This bewitchment was a heady, intoxicating blend which, over time, gave birth to something we might think of as a beast with three heads: the Music Historian, the Raconteur, and the Keeper of the Rock and Roll Flame. In the form’s glorious heyday, the DJ was the life of the radio party.

In certain well-known cases—Alan Freed, Bill Randle, Murray the K, Mad Daddy Giggle, Jack Spector, to name but a few—the DJ’s impact on rock and roll history was as profound and meaningful as that of the artists themselves. The contributions of these gifted radio icons can’t be overstated, and ought never to be forgotten.

So naturally, when their once-exalted, multifaceted role was reduced by the empty suits at Corporate to the ignominious one of mere talking robots blessed with an unusually mellifluous speaking voice, it hurt. It hurt a LOT. After being admired for their unique and irreplaceable talent, the poor saps were suddenly no more than hired hands. The Suits hadn’t just taken a job, a piffling (if well-compensated) livelihood, from them; they had taken the love of their lives. No wonder they’re pissed off about it; far as I’m concerned, they damned well oughta be. Hell, who wouldn’t?

And from what Bill tells me, a talking robot is exactly what a DJ is nowadays. He goes into the studio— no longer a broadcast studio, but a recording studio—no more than one day each week to spend a few hours laying down his between-songs chatter, which the tech-heads will then splice into place alongside the ads, announcements, and other such. When that labor of (something well-removed from) love is done, the station will have an entire week’s worth of dreary, inanimate pap securely in the can, as the tech-heads like to say—”the product” (as the tech-heads also like to say) carefully primped, manicured, and emasculated, to then be pumped out to touch-screen automobile receivers. This manufacturing process concludes with “the product” droning at modest volume from factory-installed Blaupunkt speakers, to the benumbed disregard of zombified commuters stuck in freeway traffic everywhere.

Annnnd SUCCESS! WE DID IT! High fives all around! Don’t leave me hangin’, bra!!

Sadly, even tragically, rock and roll radio is no longer a creative enterprise or artistic endeavor. It’s a fucking soul-blighting assembly line. This is decidedly NOT an improvement. Y’know, in case you were wondering about that.

No spontaneity; no creativity; no nothin’, really. Provocatively clever witticisms, raucous innuendo, or off-the-cuff flights of rhetorical fancy will NOT be permitted. No wandering off-script; all lines are to be rigorously toed, all rules strictly obeyed. Anyone caught thinking for themselves or attempting honest, uncensored communication with the listening audience will be caned.

Having glommed total control over broad regional swaths of broadcast facilities, the besuited Grey Entities of Big Radio Consolidated Inc™ have surgically excised any sign of life, warmth, or humanity from the jivin’ and thrivin’ medium they so brutally murdered. Those passionate DJs who once soared untrammeled to gleeful heights of rock and roll glory are now permanently ground-bound—their once-mighty wings clipped, their voices effectively neutered, their freewheeling creativity leashed and chained.

They loved radio, but radio didn’t love them back. Which isn’t just their personal loss, it’s everybody’s.

And there you have it, folks. I just called my homeboy Bill, a solid CF fan of long standing, to let him know about this post, and will text him a link to it when he gets back to me (Bill keeps busy enough that the first call is usually just the opening gambit of the process; after a day or so’s wait, he’ll call back). Let’s see if he shows up here to enlighten us further on this whole mess, and perhaps correct any errors or clear up any misconceptions on my part, both of which are always a possibility. I do hope he will. Bill, your thoughts will be most welcome, buddy.

Update! Remarkably enough, there are exceptions to the above depressing rule still extant here and there. One such is Greenville’s The Planet, WTPT 93.3 on your FM dial. Their morning drive-time program, The Rise Guys show (“The Saviors Of Morning Radio” or, as the hosts sometimes refer to it in jocular self-deprecation, The Rise Guys Tragedy), is a stellar example of the sort of thing rock radio was once known for, and in a better, more just world would be still.

The Rise Guys show prominently features not one, not two, but four (4) hosts: three funny, smart-alecky redneck dudes, along with newsreader chick Page And Her Great Big Hoo-Ha’s, who occupies her own solo time-slot right after the other Rise Guys cease hostilities and go home for a nice, refreshing nap. The team members—yes, even Page and her justly-celebrated fun bags—all proudly flaunt deep Southern accents, in unapologetic traducement of the industry’s ubiquitous insistence on a flat, nondescript, lukewarm universality of on-air speech patterns—a carefully-considered calculation intended to soothe, never to agitate; to lull, never to arouse; to Seem, never to Be.

The Rise Guys team incautiously skates right up to the very edge of the censorship line, reveling in a riotous rejection of every dogmatic requirement of the PC/Wokester catechism. Their schtick—which is likely not schtick at all, but their own natural personalities, not something anybody could just put on and take off like a cloak, not easily anyway—revolves around defiant, brash individualism, free will, and an innate unwillingness to bend the knee to anybody, any time, for any reason. Southerners were once renowned for their doggedly inflexible pride in possessing these very qualities, habits of mind which have gradually been subsumed in most of us. But not all of us, by God.

The Rise Guys show-topic list (partial):

  • Broad sexual suggestiveness, all strictly hetero-oriented? Yep
  • Devil-may-care celebrations of drunkenness and nonspecific, good-natured, non-destructive civic misbehavior? Gotcha covered
  • Fast cars, fast women, fast times? You bet your sweet bippy
  • Outrageous flirting with random female callers whose physical attractiveness is unknown, but who come off as pretty cool people on the phone? Hey, why not?
  • Stinging jokes insulting “transgenders,” Pride Week/Month/Summer/Year/Decade/Epoch, BLM, Green Weenie-ism, Crypt Keeper Pelosi, Stumblin’ Jaux “Pedo Pete” Biden? Check, check, check, check, check, and emphatically check
  • Sincere-sounding compliments, snickers, and shameless pleas imploring Page to just pleasepleasepleasePLEASE bare them Great Big Hoo-Ha’s of hers and let ‘em breathe, an act of selfless generosity sure to gratify and delight her fellow Morning Tragedy reprobates? Damn’ skippy
  • Recounting of the previous weekend’s leisure-time activities, with especial emphasis on a slightly (if at all) exaggerated estimation of alcohol consumption, the resultant crippling hangover and morning-after remorse, and sundry other acts of stupefying debauchery, depravity, and self-defilement? Well, I mean, y’know, DUH
  • Explicit, defamatory exhortations for invading Yankee carpetbaggers to turn their sorry asses right around and skedaddle on the fuck back to wherever they came from, rather than ruining things here? But of course

From the above sampling, one can readily discern that nothing whatsoever does this rowdy, blunt bunch consider off-limits or out of bounds: no controversy too red-hot; no subject too delicate or nuanced; no bridge too far; no cow too sacred; no personage too august to elude a well-deserved whacking with the bloody snow-seal club the Rise Guys wield with merry aplomb. Bless their blasphemous hearts, they’re willing, able, and eager to turn the Morning Tragedy blowtorch on all of ‘em.

The Rise Guys bunch don’t play a whole lot of music betwixt the raging torrent of ribaldry, lowbrow wit, and Dixie-fried brigandry, a nonstop cannonade that doesn’t leave time for much more than a bare minimum of tune-damage. Contra my usual aggravation with the cavalier approach of most modern DJs—particularly their egomaniacal penchant for mindlessly yapping over the instrumental intro of even the most hallowed classic-rock megahit, only shutting down the drivel-factory as the singer draws breath to sing the first syllable of the first verse—GOD, how that shit makes my fucking blood boil!—can this self-absorbed subgenius be so delusional that he seriously imagines that his disrespectful jackassery, his inane prattle, is what anybody not locked away in a lunatic asylum tuned in hoping to hear?—with the Rise Guys, you really don’t miss the music.

Even if you did, the rest of the day’s programming more than makes up for it, packing a knockout musical punch which intermingles several disparate R&R sub-genres: classic rock, early-2000 vintage grunge and hard rock, even a 1st-generation punk song from the Ramones now and then. At first glance, one might well be forgiven for thinking that those styles would go together about like oil and water do. For my money, though, the stylistic mix is downright ambrosial, balm to soothe the savage breast. I love it all to pieces, and am glad indeed that my ex-gf Wendy inadvertently* turned me on to The Planet a few years ago.

The Planet is Preset Numero Uno on my car-radio tuning buttons, my go-to radio choice whenever I’m forced to leave my shabby abode and get out and about, and with very good reason. Should you ever find yourself within range of WTPT 93.3’s broadcast signal and have a hankering for a solid dose of some harder-edged, guitar-driven rock—never have I heard any Beta-male, unreconstructed-hippie folksters; weepy, Men Without Chests© balladeers; headache-inducing dance-trance abominations; or testosterone-deficient MOR sneaked onto the playlist there, not one time—I simply can’t recommend The Planet highly enough.

*I was dropping her ride off at a shop I know for a few minor repairs and tweaks which required a computer-diagnostic machine I ain’t got, see, and her radio was tuned to WTPT; I listened enraptured all the way to the garage, checked the station ID numbers, and straightaway plugged ‘em into my own car radio once I got back to my pad. Been listening to ‘em ever since. And yes, I did thank Wendy, profusely, for that serendipitous main-vein strike later

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High crimes and misdemeanors

Seems there’s never a Fletcher Christian around when you really need one.

Elections used to be the means of turning the ship of state around, to go into a different and more beneficial direction. The people used to have some say, if not a great deal, often enough to let the natural inclination of the masses guide it away from the more disastrous of futures. It was this means that taught politicians how far they could go in any given direction, but the unwillingness to let the people speak through these elections means that there is no civilized way to change course.

That leaves only the uncivilized.

When the captain of a ship is clearly insane, or reckless, endangering the lives of the crew and indeed the ship they all need for survival, there are means of removing him from his position. There’s logic and reason, but when all else fails and the lives of the crew are at stake, only mutiny will suffice. It’s ugly and is fraught with danger, because, if unwarranted, it can lead to a death sentence, but someone has to utter the word, someone has to suggest the unthinkable to resolve a condition that is likewise unthinkable.

The trouble with America, right now, is that there is no more sane person to put in the captain’s chair. There is no way to effect a mutiny when the officers are as insane and reckless as the captain. It’s as if everyone in charge of anything significant is infected with the same suicidal, destructive disease.

And, it’s the people who will pay, not only in the immediate, but in the future as well.

We are facing the end of the United States of America no matter what we do, or don’t do. The financial situation just got worse with the passage of the Continuing Resolution (CR) and only more inflation can come of it. There is no political will to stop the disastrous spending put into every congressional bill. The BRICs nations will benefit from this act, more aid and comfort to those trying to destroy the US, but the competing nations are doing so because they recognize the insanity that has gripped the officers of our ship of state. Those nations see as well as most citizens that the United States is acting in increasingly irrational and self-harmful ways, taking their investments down with it, so they’ve stopped buying our debt and started liquidating our bonds as a defensive measure against our recklessness.

Americans can not just continue to use the means and methods that have always worked before, they no longer work. Elections, legal action, petitions, protests and revolts have been hijacked, turned into criminal activities instead of political expressions of disapproval. That ensures the United States can do nothing other than collapse, taking all of us down into the dark, cold sea.

Unless the common sailors stand up and challenge not only the officers, but any in authority, they will go down with the ship. In this scenario, they will try to kill us all before we can do that, but they’re doing that just to get to some enormously stupid Net-Zero. They are that evil.

They are undeniably that; the way our Masters and their pet-poodle media manufactory work in concert to conceal their motives and intent, deflect or misdirect any attempt to closely examine their actions, then flat-out lie about their results—all point unerringly towards that inescapable conclusion. I left TL’s final ‘graph out of the excerpt so as not to spoil anybody’s Christmas, but it states the underlying cause of this whole sordid, stinking mess flatly, concisely and with nary a flinch. The rest of the essay is every bit as well-written and direct, and you’ll probably never forgive yourself if you don’t go read the whole thing.

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Wide-screen TVs, 500 dollar sneakers, and KFC hardest hit

Another Nee-grow scumbag* offed by a cop in self-defense, another American city burned and looted by frothing, yowling baboons.

Widespread Mass Looting Overnight in Philly
Mass looting is being reported all over Philadelphia tonight. There are accounts of Center City stores being cleaned out by looters, including Lululemon, the Apple Store, a Foot Locker near the Liberty Bell, and many others.

One woman screamed, “Everyone must eat!” at the looting of a wine store.

Thugs even tried to loot a Popeyes restaurant:

Because OF COURSE they did. “Hey yo, we be loo-inn ‘n’ sheeit, yo!”


If you are surprised by anything at all in that video, you are beyond help and should probably check yourself into some kind of home. Onwards.

There are unconfirmed reports of looters livestreaming their crimes, monitoring police scanners, and coordinating their efforts on social media.

The looting is reportedly in response to murder charges being dropped against a cop who allegedly acted in self-defense during a traffic stop. Eddie Irizarry, who is Hispanic*, pulled a knife on cops while in his vehicle.

Hispanic, eh? Well, what the hell, any excuse will do.

According to Fox29:

A judge has dismissed all charges, including a murder count, against Philadelphia Police Officer Mark Dial who shot and killed a driver as he sat inside his vehicle last month.

Philadelphia Municipal Judge Wendy Pew made her ruling Tuesday after watching video of the fatal shooting of 27-year-old Eddie Irizarry. The defense had asserted that Officer Mark Dial was acting in self-defense when he fired his weapon at close range through the rolled-up driver’s side window of Irizarry’s sedan during a vehicle stop on August 14….

…Irizarry’s family has said that Dial deserves a long prison sentence. The defense, meanwhile, has blasted Krasner’s decision to charge Dial with murder.

“When police officers ordered him to show his hands, he instead produced a weapon and pointed it at an armed police officer,” lawyer Brian McMonagle told reporters this month. “In no world (are) those facts murder.”

Not surprisingly, the District Attorney’s Office, headed by Soros DA Larry Krasner, announced that it would appeal the decision. Philadelphia Mayor Jim Kenney inflamed the situation by tweeting his support for the man who pulled a knife on police officers.

Which, along with the rest of the PJM report, only means that the people of Philadelphia richly deserve whatever they get. As is usually the case, I’m with Sefton on this.

Honestly, my give-a-shit-ometer is barely registering. And I have many friends and acquaintances who live in or near Center City and in the outlying burbs, along with an abiding affection for that town. At least the town as it was years ago. Sorry to friends and family and others who voted for this as well as that overgrown, slovenly brain-addled sloth loping around the Senate and toking on spliffs in the cloak room, election after election. You got exactly what you voted for so enjoy it, my erstwhile friends. I pray you all wake the hell up and fast. I fear you never will even if you should come face to face with these poor innocent victims of institutional white supremacy. I’ve got news for you; flashing your BLM t-shirt won’t shield you.

Nor should it, either. As far as I’m concerned, the voters of Philly brought all this on themselves; now, they get to enjoy the ride they volunteered themselves for. So sit back and suck on it, assholes.

As of 11:45 p.m., looting is ongoing in the City of Brotherly Love, and police are struggling to keep up with all the reports. Pray for their safety tonight.

Shyeeeaaah, NO. Myself, I’ll be praying for casualties, as yet another shitlib city gets exactly what it voted for, good and hard. Maybe Abbott could send three or eight busloads of “migrants” to the City of Brotherly Love to help out in their time of trouble.

Local developments update! Breaking news from CLT: Gibmedats are gathering in the downtown area, threatening to “burn this mothafackah up ’n’ sheet” in a major chimp-out if De White Mayng doesn’t immediately agree to bring back Price’s Chicken Coop, in its old location.

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MACV-SOG is BACK, baybee!

Shades of another foredoomed cause from long ago.

U.S. Army Hospital in Germany Is Treating Americans Hurt Fighting in Ukraine
The Army’s Landstuhl Regional Medical Center has quietly started admitting Ukrainian Army soldiers who were wounded in combat, most of them American volunteers.

“Volunteers.” Oh, I like that. “Quietly,” too. Not that either sounds at all familiar to someone of my advanced age, of course. NOT. AT. ALL.

A group of Ukrainian Army soldiers pierced by Russian grenades and mortar shells arrived at a hospital recently in need of surgery. It would have been a familiar scene from the bloody war grinding on in Ukraine, except for two crucial differences: Most of the wounded soldiers were American, and so was the hospital — the U.S. Army’s flagship medical center in Germany.

The Army has quietly started to treat wounded Americans and other fighters evacuated from Ukraine at its Landstuhl Regional Medical Center. Though the number so far is small — currently 14 — it marks a notable new step in the United States’ deepening involvement in the conflict.

When the war erupted in 2022, hundreds of Americans — many of them military veterans — rushed to help defend Ukraine. Nineteen months later, perhaps a few hundred are still there, volunteering for local militias or serving under contract with the Ukrainian national army.

An unknown number of them have been shot, hit by artillery, blown up by mines or otherwise injured in combat. About 20 have been killed. Most of the wounded have had to rely on a patchwork of Ukrainian hospitals and Western charities for help. Now, though, the Pentagon has stepped in to offer some of them the same care it gives to American active-duty troops.

The hospital at Landstuhl is authorized to do so under a Defense Department policy, which began last summer, that allows the hospital to treat up to 18 wounded members of the Ukrainian forces at a time, the Pentagon confirmed in a statement. The fact that most of the Ukrainian troops at Landstuhl are Americans illustrates how the war has progressed in unexpected ways.

The Biden administration vowed at the start of the war that it would not put American troops on the ground in Ukraine, and it warned Americans not to get involved. Now it finds itself treating those it told to stay away.

Wink-wink, nudge-nudge, knowhatImeanrightright?

Asked about the development by The New York Times, a Defense Department official who is regularly briefed on Ukraine-Russia matters expressed surprise, and said that leaders at the Pentagon were unaware that Landstuhl was regularly treating wounded American volunteers, but added that the leaders were not concerned about it.

I’m sure they aren’t. Because you know damned well they DID know about it. Because they’re, y’know, running it.

The official, who spoke on condition of anonymity to discuss internal deliberations, noted that while the administration strongly discourages American citizens from going to Ukraine to fight, it is obvious that some go anyway, and if they become wounded and end up at Landstuhl, the military is not going to turn them away.

One would certainly hope not. Then again, seeing as how this country’s “leadership” is pure, unadulterated Evil Incarnate, one wouldn’t be much surprised to learn that they were.

Incroyable, innit, how everything old is new again.

(Via WRSA)

To laugh, and to cry

Pretty funny one, if bitterly so, from Kurt Schlichter.

America Is Becoming a Joke

Becoming, Kurt?

The United States just lost an F-35 as part of its campaign to reduce itself from the greatest superpower in human history to a pitiful punchline. Ah, the magic of leftism – only it can make a great country like America ridiculous. From an inability to find its fighters to an unwillingness to defend its borders or prosecute criminals – with the exception of conservatives framed for the crime of conservativing – our country has become the Three Stooges without the dignity.

The first question that arises from the mystery jet is not what happened – we can safely assume it was some manner of gross incompetence – but what the plane’s pronouns were. We had the spectacle of the Marine Corps high command dragging itself away from one of its drag shows to ask regular folks if they could pretty please give the jarheads a hand finding their wayward fighter. They couldn’t even spin this fiasco effectively and brag about how their not being able to detect the $100 million aircraft just goes to show how darn good our stealth tech is. No, instead it was just exactly what it sounded like. We can’t keep track of our jets. The only ones happy about it had to be the Navy, since this was a welcome respite from the mockery it earned smashing its destroyers into other boats. Our Army – with its colonels running sex kennels – used to recruit with slogans like “Be All You Can Be,” and now it would probably be better off with “We Suck Less Than That Other Service That Lost The Jet.”

Over on Capitol Hill, where the People’s House that you get sent to jail for peopling inside is located, we have the Republican Charlie Browns once again teeing up to kick the football held by the Democrat Lucys. Yeah, this time will be different! The GOP has only had the better part of a year to get ready for this debt ceiling thing and to plot out a course of action to get some concessions. But have they? Ha! Why win when you can lose?

And on the Senate side, our minority leader keeps freezing up like a Windows blue screen as everyone explains how it is perfectly normal for McConnell to stand there rebooting every time someone puts a mic in his mug. And, of course, there’s Chumley the Congressman insisting that the august institution conform to his desire to dress like a guy playing $2 blackjack hands at Circus Circus on a Monday morning.

We have a president who sounds both like English is his second language and that he’s gotten into the cooking sherry. We have a vice president who, if not for fractured cliches and bizarre cackling, would not be speaking at all. Biden takes the short stairs to get up to the short bus, which is what Air Force One now is. Hey, at least they haven’t lost it. Yet.

Heh. I especially like that “what the plane’s pronouns were” bit. He carries on in like vein from there, all of it good, juicy stuff. Best of all, he resists the urge to start up with the usual blibbering in the last two ‘graphs about how we’re gonna vote so hard we kick their sorry asses black, blue, and purple in the 2024 presidential “elections,” yo! Maybe Col Schlichter has at last outgrown all that airy-fairy horseshit.

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