GIVE TIL IT HURTS

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The Daily Donnybrook, and other fine things

Welcome to Ye Aulde Colde Furye Blogge’s shiny new open-comments thread, where y’all can have at it as you wish, on any topic you like. New posts will appear below this one. There will be blood…

Mike @Substack


New Eyrie posts go up every Monday and Friday, although the time of day may (and most likely will) vary. Mike’s latest Eyrie offering is available for perusal here: “Screamin’ meemie Monday!” Links to archived Golden Oldies are findable down at the bottom of each post.

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JAZZ cat!

Actually, I’d call this number from jazz/R&B/pop/rock legend Ben Sidran more blues than it is anything else, but that’s probably just me. See what you think, bearing closely in mind Rule #1 with all things musical: Always go with what your heart tells ya.

The brilliantly understated piano and guitar solos work together with the likewise spare but quite tasteful fills from the tremolo-soaked Stratocaster and that perfect Hammond B3/Leslie pairing to juice this modest piece right on up to genuine “earwig” status. Sidran’s laid-back vocal stylings are just the icing on a VERY tasty cake; he and his backing musicians play so far behind the beat here that they’re in serious danger of having it come around behind to lap their asses.

Sidran has been kicking out the jams since about 1960 or so, winning his spurs with an insanely wide variety of fellow artists. To wit:

Ben Hirsh Sidran (born August 14, 1943) is an American jazz and rock keyboardist, producer, label owner, and music writer. Early in his career he was a member of the Steve Miller Band and is the father of Grammy-nominated musician, composer and performer Leo Sidran.

Sidran was born in Chicago, Illinois, United States. He was raised in Racine, Wisconsin, and attended the University of Wisconsin–Madison in 1961, where he became a member of The Ardells with Steve Miller and Boz Scaggs. When Miller and Scaggs left Wisconsin for the West Coast, Sidran stayed behind to earn a degree in English literature. After graduating in 1966, he enrolled at the University of Sussex, England, to pursue a PhD. While in England, he was a session musician for Eric Clapton, The Rolling Stones, Peter Frampton, and Charlie Watts.

Sidran joined Steve Miller as keyboardist and songwriter on recording projects, appearing on the albums Brave New World, Your Saving Grace, Number 5, and Recall the Beginning…A Journey from Eden. He produced Recall the Beginning and co-wrote the hit song “Space Cowboy.” In 1988, he produced Miller’s jazz album Born 2B Blue. He has also produced albums for Mose Allison, Van Morrison, Rickie Lee Jones, and Diana Ross.

Sidran returned to Madison, Wisconsin, in 1971 and has spent most of his life there. He taught courses at the university (on the business of music) and beginning in 1981 hosted jazz radio programs for NPR (including the Peabody Award-winning Jazz Alive series) and TV programs for VH1 (where his New Visions series in the early 1990s won the Ace Award). While hosting that series, Sidran frequently expressed his desire to “demystify the world of jazz; jazz musicians are just like the rest of us, only more so.”

As a musician and a producer he has released over 35 solo recordings.

And even that catalog of achievement, remarkable as it is, is but the tip of the Ben Sidran iceberg. There’s a way-cool backstory for the above embed, specifically the title shared by both song and album.

The original idea for Rainmaker was to throw a party in a Paris recording studio in honor of my 80th birthday. I saw it as a way to celebrate the survival of so many things, including myself, a life without borders, and my friendship with so many musicians abroad.

I imagined that it would be a blues record, so I began by writing some original blues songs and revisiting some of my favorite classic blues too. But as often happens, what we discover is not necessarily what we were looking for, and in this case I found myself writing songs that felt dystopian, not all of them traditional blues forms, and not what you might imagine as “party music”.

But by the time we finished recording at Studio de Meudon with new and old friends from America and France, the record had found its own sound. Somewhere between tragic and celebratory, shaggy and polished, broken and healed, I guess you could say that Rainmaker really is all about surviving in the modern world.

“Just like the rest of us, only more so.” Yeah, you sure said yourself a mouthful there, Ben.

Memezapoppin’!

Welcome to this week’s installment of our Wednesday meme feature, folks. Links to the “found via” sources will be attached to the specific MiQ’s (Memes in Question) whenever I can remember them, which likely won’t be very often. Only the first two memes will appear above the fold to save on bandwidth usage, since I assume not everybody who shows up at this here websty will want to see all of them. This intro will appear at the top of each week’s Memezapoppin’! post. Enjoy, funny-pitcher lovers.

Continue reading Memezapoppin’!

There’s good rockin’ tonight

Another blast from the musical past, this one starring the incredible Leslie West singing and playing lead guitar on his own original classic, which revolves around probably the tastiest rock guitar riff of all time.

I will forever be haunted by two (2) terrible regrets from my NYC years: 1) Never checking out Leslie West at any of the frequent small-club gigs he played in NYC aprés his illustrious career fronting Mountain, and 2) Likewise never troubling my sorry butt to go out and pay due and proper homage to pioneering guitar icon Les Paul at his own weekly NYC appearances at the Iridium, to which premises proud Les Paul owners from all over the world would tote their axes and form up in surprisingly orderly out-the-door-and-down-the-block queues to have Les personally sign the back of the body, the top, the pickguard, the back of the neck, the headstock, basically any surface roomy enough for him to write his name—no-charge autograph sessions on which Paul graciously spent long, wearing hours after wrapping up his set, making nary a murmur of complaint the whole while.

For further info and bare-knuckles analysis on how profoundly the Leo Fender/Les Paul competition reshaped our world, do yourself a HUGE favor and check out this tome: “The Birth of Loud: Leo Fender, Les Paul, and the Guitar-Pioneering Rivalry That Shaped Rock ‘n’ Roll.” I’ve had the ePub version on my phone ever since it first became available on Amazon Kindle, and have read it e-cover to e-cover way more than just once. If a well-written chronicle of the little-known, behind the scenes story of the guitars, the amplifiers, the brilliant men who created them, and how the fortuitously-timed confluence of those three factors transformed a musical genre derided in its infancy as just another teenybopper fad which would have no lasting significance into a cultural juggernaut whose powerful, pervasive influence gives every indication of being permanent is of even passing interest to you, you won’t go wrong by giving “The Birth of Loud” a read your own self, I assure you.

I offer no excuses for my unforgivable lassitude re: those aforementioned two regrets. Another fascinating chapter from the Mountain man’s eventful biography:

The story  of Leslie West’s jam session with Jimi Hendrix
The guitarist Leslie West was a fundamental part of Mountain‘s sound, one of the most influential bands from the late 60s and early 70s. With famous songs like “Mississippi Queen” and “Never In My Life” they were the American response to the incredible Hard Rock movement that was happening in the United Kingdom.

During his career the guitar player had the chance to meet many incredible musicians, including Jimi Hendrix, who died in 1970 at the age of 27.

West recalled this incredible experience in an interview with Classic Rock, after releasing his final album “Soundcheck” in 2015. “Jimi came into this nightclub in New York at, like, one in the morning. I happened to be there to see Steve Miller, who had finished and left. I’d already met Jimi in the studio at the Record Plant – we were doing Climbing! and he was doing Band Of Gypsys – so we knew each other. He came over to me and said, ‘Wanna jam, man?’ Just like that. We didn’t have any equipment there, but we had a loft about 13 blocks away, in a real deserted part of Manhattan, 36th Street, 11th Avenue.”

“So Jimi said, ‘Well, let’s get in my limo.’ My road manager lived in the loft, so we woke him up at two in the morning. He came down and opened the door and who’s standing there but Jimi Hendrix. He nearly had a heart attack. We went upstairs and we jammed, Jimi was playing bass and I was playing guitar. We just seemed to hit it off. But I think Jimi could have played with anybody. He just loved playing, and he was so cool as a guy. That’s my favourite memory of him.”

West covered a few Hendrix tracks during his career, including “Red House”. Mountain was formed in Long Island, New York back in 1969 by Leslie West, Felix Pappalardi, Steve Knight and N. D. Smart.

The article includes a video embed of said “Red House” cover—always one of my absolute favorite Hendrix tunes, which if I remember right may have been a cover its own self, an old blues chestnut copped by Hendrix and reimagined as only James Marshall Hendrix could bring off. Although this post says I’m all wet on that one.

Update! Oh, what the heck was I thinking, not going ahead and including this one also after mentioning it in such glowing terms?

This is the version I grew up listening to, off the album I had when I was but a wee bairn. There are lots of excellent live versions out there too, but I still like this rendition most. For one thing, having played and replayed the song myself so danged many times, on record and guitar both, hearing Jimi stray from the exact notes I’m accustomed to hearing him play during the opening solo is the aural equivalent of a Sykes-Fairbairn knife through the eardrum at this point.

Which, at least in all the Yew Toob vids of live “Red House” performances I’ve seen to date, the man never played that bit the same way twice; it’s different each and every time.

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Memezapoppin’!

Welcome to this week’s installment of our Wednesday (except on those occasions when I completely lose track of what day it is and end up running it on Thursday, not that that ever happens—a-HEM!) meme feature, folks. Links to the “found via” sources will be attached to the specific MiQ’s (Memes in Question) whenever I can remember them, which likely won’t be very often. Only the first two memes will appear above the fold to save on bandwidth usage, since I assume not everybody who shows up at this here websty will want to see all of them. This intro will appear at the top of each week’s Memezapoppin’! post. Enjoy, funny-pitcher lovers.

Continue reading Memezapoppin’!

RIP John C Zander

More familiar to denizens of the blogosphere as ZMan, dead far too young (not even 60 years old? Dooood, SRSLY?!?) from what is said to be “natural causes.” Our bosom blog-buddy The Tactical Hermit mourns the loss, and makes the proverbial silk purse out of a sow’s ear by drawing inspiration therefrom.

One of the great minds of the Dissident Right has left us. Although I am sad I know what question Z would pose to all of us: Which one of you is going to pick up the standard and carry on the fight? My answer: Count me in Z. Here I am. Send Me.

Well reasoned and/or -spoken, TH. The Hermit then steers us, bless his coal-black heart, over to Sido’s impassioned obit.

The Dissident Right will miss him. His real name was John Christopher Zander and his was a powerful, sober voice and a needed contrast to the multitude of silly fools and/or degenerates that often dominate the conversation in the medium of social media that rewards the loud and obnoxious at the expense of the serious and thoughtful.

He was a pretty private person. I know he still had a regular job and it sounded to me like he did consulting of some sort. Whatever it was, I got the impression that he was good enough at it that he could move from Baltimore, a city he lived in for many years and referred to Lagos, to West Virginia. He was apparently doxxed by the anti-White hate group that calls itself “The Southern Poverty Law Center” but I didn’t even realize it as he didn’t mention it to my recollection and it didn’t appear to impact him professionally but it does reinforce that the SPLC, ADL and other anti-White hate groups are made up of the very worst people in America. There is a great deal of freedom in finding a way to make a living that is insulated from Their shenanigans.

His writing was usually lucid and thoughtful although he did have an amusing tendency toward typos and misspelling that he didn’t seem to care about. He lived alone for as long as I can remember reading him, and it has been a long time, probably at least 10 years as his was one of the websites I frequented before starting my new blog.

Plenty more at Arthur’s joint, including remembrances from such notable quotables as AmRen’s Jared Taylor; the excommunicated but nonetheless highly esteemed John Derbyshire*; and this Peter Brimelow character—who, for many years, was one of the reclusive ZMan’s very few close personal friends. Thus:

The Zman was a somewhat solitary creature. He had recently moved to West Virginia and had two cats but as far as I know he wasn’t married, perhaps was divorced?, didn’t have a girlfriend nor close family. While I don’t know who found him, the local sheriff contacted the Brimelows who managed to track down a relative. Like I said, he was a solitary guy but seemed mostly comfortable with that. He was getting into gardening, bought an older truck to fix up, was working on a badly needed update to his blog and generally seemed to be enjoying life. He struck me as someone that it would have been a lot of fun to hang out with in his garage enjoying a cold beverage.

I didn’t agree with The Zman on every issue or position, the only person I agree with 100% of the time is the handsome devil looking back at me in the mirror, but I agreed with him almost all of the time. He epitomized the Dissident Right, being someone focused on what really is and not what we wish would be.

Ditto, Arthur. I’ve long since forgotten who it was, but years back somebody or other made a brilliant observation regarding political figures: If you find yourself in agreement with such a personage one hundred percent of the time, you badly need to reflect on the situation, and carefully—because at least one of you, quite possibly both, is literally insane.

Time was, I excerpted/linked almost every one of ZMan’s essays after each successive one had been published. Similarly, I never failed to at least read each one, regardless of whether I felt the topic was suitable for discussion at CF—which potential for becoming blog-fodder is always lurking in my mind with every blog post, op-ed piece, or mainstream think-piece I read. Over the past cpl-three years, however, I gradually lost interest in ZMan’s stuff—feeling, fairly or unfairly, that it had become somewhat repetitive, stale, even. Whether my assessment was at all accurate I’ll leave for others to judge. Whatever the case may be, my visits to the Z Blog  gradually tapered off until finally, they’d stopped altogether.

No matter; rest ye well, ZMan. From its inception, the Z-Blog was one of those rarely-seen blogospheric phenomena which wash over the world of socio-political commentary like a tsunami, sweeping the somnambulant intellectual convention, overwrought juvenilia, and monochromatic groupthink of the moment away before it as if they were of no more lasting significance than any other flotsam of leaves, dust, and random lightweight debris tossed hither and yon by a pre-storm gust front. The impact your insight, analysis, and most especially your artful writing—uncorrected “amusing typos” notwithstanding—had on our community was so high, wide, deep, and powerful as to be beyond estimation.

* NOTE: After wading through paywall after paywall looking for an unbowdlerized version to link to above, I downloaded the full version of Derbyshire’s world-renowned, explosively controversial, widely misunderstood and/or misrepresented “The Talk” article, which I plan to post on its own separate page here at CF, if only just to make the shitlibs cry and for no other reason.

Update! There, we’re all set! John Derbyshire’s “The Talk” Pts 1 and 2, unexpurgated and in their entirety, have found their Forever Home right here at Ye Aulde Colde Furye Blogge (check the Navbar directly below our Angry Guy header image, scrunched all the way over on the right-hand side). I’m pleased and proud to be in a position to see to it that, from now on, none of y’all RAYCISS!!© reprobates will need to wastefully expend time and energy hunting all over Hell and half of Georgia looking for them. Better yet, y’know, neither will I.

High speed low drag update! Asked myself what the hey, why not simplify things around here a mite? I mean, no way a single page of mainly text could ever be so damned bloated as to make the server gag on it, right? Neither is the aforementioned file likely to be so achingly slooooow to load that you Patient Readers will nod off, leaving y’all slumped semi-conscious over your desk, your energy sapped, your eyeballs red, burning, and itchy after you’d spent the last twenty, twenty-five minutes being mesmerized by the Spinning Beach Ball of Death while you just waited…and waited…and waited for the infernal page to finally, FINALLY come up in your browser tab.

Having been smacked square in the gob by these gladsome realizations made it clear as crystal that the decision had been made for me already. That in turn meant there was but one option available to me at this point, so I went ahead on and consolidated Parts One and Two into one fat, lengthy, bodaciously streamlined package.

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HUGE: SCOTUS Rules AGAINST Nationwide Injunctions by District Courts

This morning.
The Trump administration can now legally ignore the district court nationwide injunctions.

The district courts can rule adversely on a case, but it cannot be applied across the country.

The recent EO defining birthright citizenship that was nuked by a district court injunction is now back in force (SCOTUS did not rule on the constitutionality of that).

BIG WIN!

HUGE WIN! Supreme Court Rules Nationwide Injunctions by District Courts EXCEED Congressional Authority — Clears Path for Citizenship Crackdown

Memezapoppin’!

Welcome to this week’s installment of our Wednesday meme feature, folks. Links to the “found via” sources will be attached to the specific MiQ’s (Memes in Question) whenever I can remember them, which likely won’t be very often. Only the first two memes will appear above the fold to save on bandwidth usage, since I assume not everybody who shows up at this here websty will want to see all of them. This intro will appear at the top of each week’s Memezapoppin’! post. Enjoy, funny-pitcher lovers.

Continue reading Memezapoppin’!

Trump tears cum-garglng Commie a new one

It’s a thing of beauty, this one is.

Trump blasts Zohran Mamdani as a ‘100% Communist Lunatic’ in scathing NYC mayoral rant: ‘Democrats have crossed the line’
President Trump blasted Zohran Mamdani’s politics – and looks – Wednesday after the socialist’s stunning upset in New York’s Democratic mayoral primary.

“Democrats have crossed the line” by elevating “100% Communist Lunatic,” Trump railed in a Truth Social post.

“We’ve had Radical Lefties before, but this is getting a little ridiculous,” he added.

“He looks TERRIBLE, his voice is grating, he’s not very smart, he’s got AOC+3, Dummies ALL, backing him, and even our Great Palestinian Senator, Cryin’ Chuck Schumer, is groveling over him.”

As is his usual habit, Trump is laying down the truth, the whole truth, and nothing BUT the truth. Yep, he is laying it down alright; How sad it is that New York shitlibs are either

  • Too goddamn stupid to perceive the need to pick up on it
  • Too pig-ignorant and/or plain old stiubbrn to admit to themselves the metastasizing urgency of the City’s plight
  • Too complacent and smug to have any interest in expending the time and efffort\ on such a taxing thing

More, and worse.

Zohran Mamdani’s shock win over Andrew Cuomo fuels rumors of AOC 2028 presidential run: ‘Broadens her horizons’
Speculation is swirling about Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s plans for 2028 after she successfully endorsed dark-horse socialist Zohran Mamdani in the heated New York City Democratic mayoral primary.

Many observers believe the lefty “Squad” member will try to move up from her House seat — whether to the Senate or even the White House — in the aftermath of Mamdani’s stunning upset over ex-New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo Tuesday night.

“It just continues to open more doors,” Corbin Trent, Ocasio-Cortez’s former spokesperson and author of America’s Undoing Substack, told The Post. “It just broadens her horizons.”

The 35-year-old Bronx and Queens congresswoman was perhaps the most high-profile Democrat to throw her weight behind Mamdani, 33, at a time when he was widely seen as the underdog in the race.

God help us.

Op’m de do’, Richit!

Had an old favorite of mine pop into mind just a short while ago, an immediate hit which, upon its release, speedily ascended all the way up to number one with a bullet on the Billboard charts for Count Basie & his Orchestra back in 1947. It’s a novelty number (remember those? Don’t hear too many of those nowadays) I haven’t heard in way too many years, and had damned near forgotten about completely. So without further ado, here t’is.

I do declare, you just can’t help but dig those rib-tickling vocal stylings of R&B legend “Sweets” Edison, which I hasten to assure one and all I surely do. More from the notes included by the fella who put this one-of-a-kind chart-topper on Yew Toob.

Open The Door, Richard! (McVea-Clarke) by Count Basie & his Orchestra, vocal by Harry “Sweets” Edison, Bill Johnson, and the band

All five posted versions of this short-lived novelty sensation made it into the top-10 on both the pop and R&B Billboard weekly record charts: Count Basie (#1 pop), Dusty Fletcher, Jack McVea, Louis Jordan and The Three Flames.

Huh. Much as I’ve always admired the incomparable hit factory Louis Jordan’s amazing work, I don’t believe I ever heard his version of  “Open the door, Richard” before. Gonna have to get cracking right away on filling that yawning chasm in my musical education straightaway.

A life most interesting

Rich, varied to an almost incredible degree, lived fully and well—whodathunk it would be Bobby Friggin’ Sherman (!!!) I’m talking about here?

 
 
 
 
 
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A post shared by John Stamos (@johnstamos)


Since that Instagram embed code is pretty, umm, involved, here’s a screenshot of the text in case the embed doesn’t work too good here.

THERE walked a man, folks. Fare thee well to you, Bobby Sherman. May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

Memezapoppin’!

Welcome to this week’s installment of our Wednesday meme feature, folks. Links to the “found via” sources will be attached to the specific MiQ’s (Memes in Question) whenever I can remember them, which likely won’t be very often. Only the first two memes will appear above the fold to save on bandwidth usage, since I assume not everybody who shows up at this here websty will want to see all of them. This intro will appear at the top of each week’s Memezapoppin’! post. Enjoy, funny-pitcher lovers.

Continue reading Memezapoppin’!

Run em down run em down run em ALLLLLL down

Even when I was just a wee tyke, I understood that if you played in the street, you were liable to get run over. Apparently, that’s just too darn complex a cause-effect relationship for Woke Supergenii to figure out on their own.

There is, I think, among many, a weariness of seeing escalating levels of fucking about with too little of the customary finding out.

The activists’ power lies in an assumption that their victims will not risk injuring their assailants.

But to insist that the victims should remain trapped, inert, and at the mercy of their aggressors, indefinitely, and while risking greater danger to themselves or their property, does not strike me as a morally persuasive position. And note that the activists typically rush from all sides, rapidly surrounding the car and its occupants, intensifying the alarm, the likelihood of panic, and drastically reducing the driver’s options. This is not accidental.

There’s an implied dare. The game being, “You won’t do what’s needed, despite our alarming and menacing behaviour, because you’re nicer than us, less vain, and not unhinged, and so we can dominate you and terrorise you, and break your stuff, for as long as we want, for shits and giggles.”

Well. I would suggest that the activists’ own actions render their wellbeing of very low importance.

“Low?” Howzabout NO, David? Better still, none whatsoever, at least as far as I’m concerned.

Gangs of cowardly, violent Leftard bully-boys charging up from behind the dumpster they’d been hiding behind, encircliog some innocent motorist whose only wish was to get back home from work without incident—the mob threatening their victim, beating on his car, kicking dents in its body panels and/or hood, wrecking the paint job with keys, pocket knives, or other metal objects, rocking the car furiously on its suspension just as a psyop intended to terrorize their horrified prey, etc. of right ought to be mown down by the blameless drivers they’re assaulting. For the life of me, I really can’t understand why a lot more of these rectal polyps weren’t put in the hospital (or the morgue) long ago, back when the Left’s War on Western Civ first began. We very much need to do our utmost to get those disappointing casualty numbers up to where they should be.

What the actual fuck is up with all this, anyway? There you are, locked in your car snug as a bug in a rug—safe, sound, and totally secure inside a 2-ton metal enclosure which is perfectly capable of racing away from this confederacy of dunces under its own steam, anytime you feel like applying pressure to the accelerator pedal under your right foot. In fact, that is precisely what the car was designed to do, the reason for its very existence.

As for the aforementioned confederacy of dunces, either they have at least the bare minimum of intelligence required for them to comprehend that, once the car is under way, the “protest” is o-v-e-r OVER, and he/she/xhir/it really needs to get out of the street and well clear of said moving vehicle, or they do not. If he/she/xhir/it elects NOT to move his/her/xhir/its stupid ass out of the way, then our cognitively-challenged Leftards really shouldn’t find it too upsetting  when their stupidity results, as it inevitably must, in their being flattened and/or becoming entangled in the car’s undercarriage and dragged down the street a ways, sustaining numerous painful injuries including but not limited to:

  • Road rash over most of human hood ornament’s body
  • Cracked ribs, flailed ribcage, punctured/deflated lungs
  • Fractured skull, brain swelling
  • Broken arms, collarbone, hip(s), and/or legs
  • Miscellaneous bruises, contusions, lacerations, and asphalt burns

It’s as David says: the activists count on the assumption that the victims of their feral brigandry will never strike back against their assailants. That assumption badly needs to be, absolutely MUST be, radically altered so it can better align itself with a more balanced, equitable, mutually respectful social compact which is bound to emerge from the current disorder, irremediable enmity, and systemic dysfunction. Likewise, childish tantrums evincing a total absence of self-discipline, self-control, and mature, reflective self-assessment; low/no regard for the rights of others; near-pathological narcissism; a boundless, ungoverned self-indulgence which the afflicted Wokester believes himself/herself/xhirself/tself to be not just entitled to, but altogether deserving of—bestowed on him by natural right, as integral a part of who and what he is as are his blonde hair, lanky frame, and blue eyes; no more than is due and proper for such a wonderfully superior, elevated human being as he/she/xhir/it so obviously is;

Right straight to Hell with just sitting passively in the car, hoping against hope that the approaching Wokester jackal-pack will decide to just go away and leave you be, without any real harm done to either your person or your ride. You know as well as I do that that is NOT going to be the way this scenario shakes out. Keep in mind, too, that it isn’t just a car you’re sitting in; it’s also a weapon, and a damned effective one when deployed properly, by someone who has no intention of just rolling over and playing dead for a passel of spoiled, snotnosed little toerags who couldn’t punch their way out of a wet paper bag without bursting into tears at the sheer horror of such brutal violence—which is to say, someone who is a flinty, gimlet-eyed realist that, although he likes people generally and is therefore viscerally appalled at the prospect of inflicting grievous bodily injury on his fellow man as long as he himself is treated with the respect, restraint, and friendly, affable charm far more typical of him. Even so, if these refugees from Coney Island’s infamous Freak Show really do want to throw down, he’s perfectly prepared to get all in amongst ‘em himself, and this is a man who plays strictly to win.

So why the actual fuck would any self-respecting American man let a mincing assortment of chickenshit pussies, scrawny, slope-shouldered gamer-geeks, and fat, repulsive broads sporting third-degree friction burns on her legs caused by the way her inner thighs rub together as she waddles along have their way with him, anyway? They started the shit, time for us to finish it. Don’t just sit there like an inert lump, go proactive: put the pedal to the metal, point those shiny chrome grill teeth at dead-center of the closest-packed cluster of giggling oxygen thieves, and bring some REAL pain down on those empty heads. Teach ‘em a lesson they won’t easily forget. The sooner Normals stop putting up with Lefty’s shit, the sooner there won’t be any more shit for us to put up with.

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Comments appear entirely at the whim of the guy who pays the bills for this site and may be deleted, ridiculed, maliciously edited for purposes of mockery, or otherwise pissed over as he in his capricious fancy sees fit. The CF comments section is pretty free-form and rough and tumble; tolerance level for rowdiness and misbehavior is fairly high here, but is NOT without limit.

Management is under no obligation whatever to allow the comments section to be taken over and ruined by trolls, Leftists, and/or other oxygen thieves, and will take any measures deemed necessary to prevent such. Conduct yourself with the merest modicum of decorum, courtesy, and respect and you'll be fine. Pick pointless squabbles with other commenters, fling provocative personal insults, issue threats, or annoy the host (me) and...you won't.

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CF Glossary

ProPol: Professional Politician

Vichy GOPe: Putative "Republicans" who talk a great game but never can seem to find a hill they consider worth dying on; Quislings, Petains, Benedicts, backstabbers, fake phony frauds

Fake Phony Fraud(s), S'faccim: two excellent descriptors coined by the late great WABC host Bob Grant which are interchangeable, both meaning as they do pretty much the same thing

Mordor On The Potomac: Washington, DC

The Enemy: shitlibs, Progtards, Leftards, Swamp critters, et al ad nauseum

Burn, Loot, Murder: what the misleading acronym BLM really stands for

pAntiFa: an alternative spelling of "fascist scum"

"Mike Hendrix is, without a doubt, the greatest one-legged blogger in the world." ‐Henry Chinaski

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Correspondence

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All e-mails assumed to be legitimate fodder for publication, scorn, ridicule, or other public mockery unless specified as private by the sender

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Alternatives to shitlib social media: A few people worth following on Gab:

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Notable Quotes

"America is at that awkward stage. It's too late to work within the system, but too early to shoot the bastards."
Claire Wolfe, 101 Things to Do 'Til the Revolution

Claire's Cabal—The Freedom Forums

FREEDOM!!!

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

“When I was young I was depressed all the time. But suicide no longer seemed a possibility in my life. At my age there was very little left to kill.”
Charles Bukowski

“A slave is one who waits for someone to come and free him.”
Ezra Pound

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

“The right of a nation to kill a tyrant in case of necessity can no more be doubted than to hang a robber, or kill a flea.”
John Adams

"A society of sheep must in time beget a government of wolves."
Bertrand de Jouvenel

"It is terrible to contemplate how few politicians are hanged."
GK Chesterton

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

"The only way to live free is to live unobserved."
Etienne de la Boiete

"History does not long entrust the care of freedom to the weak or the timid."
Dwight D. Eisenhower

"To put it simply, the Left is the stupid and the insane, led by the evil. You can’t persuade the stupid or the insane and you had damn well better fight the evil."
Skeptic

"There is no better way to stamp your power on people than through the dead hand of bureaucracy. You cannot reason with paperwork."
David Black, from Turn Left For Gibraltar

"If the laws of God and men, are therefore of no effect, when the magistracy is left at liberty to break them; and if the lusts of those who are too strong for the tribunals of justice, cannot be otherwise restrained than by sedition, tumults and war, those seditions, tumults and wars, are justified by the laws of God and man."
John Adams

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

"Give me the media and I will make of any nation a herd of swine."
Joseph Goebbels

“I hope we once again have reminded people that man is not free unless government is limited. There’s a clear cause and effect here that is as neat and predictable as a law of physics: As government expands, liberty contracts.”
Ronald Reagan

"Ain't no misunderstanding this war. They want to rule us and aim to do it. We aim not to allow it. All there is to it."
NC Reed, from Parno's Peril

"I just want a government that fits in the box it originally came in."
Bill Whittle

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