Green No Deal

The Supreme Court slaps the Left with another stinging rebuke.

The Party of Chaos is draping its narrow shoulders in black crepe this Fourth of July, putting on funereal airs, which is actually just another cynical act in their remorseless performance of pretending to care about our country, as everything they touch goes to shit, blood, and ruin. Anything not that, they would like you believe, is “right-wing extremism” and “domestic terrorism.” Such as reminding your fellow citizens that there’s an upside to the rule-of-law and free speech, two niceties of the constitution the Party of Chaos is working hard to dispose of.

Understand that this Party of Chaos is insane, and rejoice this holiday weekend that you are not them. Independence, after all, was not just throwing off the yoke of King George III, but of establishing conditions for a people to thrive and pursue happiness without nefarious interference by vicious authorities of a leviathan state. That was something worth fighting for in 1776 and worth fighting for now.

One such battle was decided this week in the US Supreme Court: West Virginia v EPA, about US government agencies under the executive branch usurping legislative and judicial prerogatives — in this case to enforce “Green New Deal” policies on the electric power industry by agency fiat, as if by law. No-can-do, the SCOTUS said in a 6-3 decision. The ruling will tend to quash the growing tyranny of the unelected federal bureaucracy issuing diktats that nobody has voted for, like the Department of Education’s increasingly insane use of the 1972 Title IX [nine] update of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 to jam biological male transsexuals into women’s sports and locker rooms.

Much of this agency mischief has emanated in recent years from whoever is in the White House issuing executive orders to get around a recalcitrant Congress. Barack Obama was especially prolific at it and now the junta behind “Joe Biden” is trying to emulate Mr. O. The upshot is that the Green New Deal is dead because even a Democratic majority Congress is too chicken to vote for measures likely to bring down the electric grid and put an end to mass motoring (though current trends suggest exactly that outcome is in the cards even without government action).

The ruling also tends to foil the World Economic Forum’s effort to re-set Western Civ as a transhuman technocratic “green” nirvana. Rather, the USA and Euroland are on the express track to a Palookaville of grubby, post-industrial, neo-medieval hardship. Try to imagine Mark Zuckerberg’s Metaverse minus reliable electric service. All you’re left with is an ill-dressed schmuck wearing goggles in a dark, empty room. Not to mention the technocrat elite’s wished-for boons of computer-enabled eternal life and never-ending orgasm. Fugettabowdit. Mr. Zuckerberg will be lucky months from now if he can avoid being clamped to a stake and torched by the angered new peasantry he helped to create.

With this decision, Real Americans have scored a total of three (3) major wins over Team Tyranny this session of the Court, of which this last could prove to be the most important. Most of the analysis I’ve seen so far from Righty pundits (I don’t waste my time reading Leftard columnists, seeing as how it’s just going to be a passel of lies anyway; the NeverTrumpTard TruCons™ *gag* I wouldn’t read if you paid me by the hour) insists that the Supremes have essentially defanged the EPA monster with this one, perhaps for good. Near as this non-lawyer can make out so far, it might very well be so.

And that, friends, would be a boon to America and Americans beyond calculation.

No, the EPA is hardly the only government immurement against freedom, true progress, and prosperity the nation must struggle to throw off. But ever since Nixon first looped the EPA noose snugly around American necks, the untrammeled rogue agency has ballooned into one of the most weighty of all our burdens, the agency itself bloating in direct concordance with the expansion of the undue might and scope it asserts. Should this week’s ruling get the long, arduous process of reining in Nixon’s errant creation underway at last, Americans will owe the Trump Court* and the extraordinary President responsible for its creation an enormous debt of gratitude.

* Yes, that’s the correct way to refer to it, the name by which posterity of right ought to know it. That would be no more than fair and just acknowledgement of Trump’s most significant and enduring contribution as POTUS, the thing for which he’ll go down in history…and richly deserves to.

2

Crashing the Party

An in-depth look at my main man, Ron DeSantis.

At Yale, DeSantis majored in history and played on the baseball team, in the outfield. In the Yale tradition, the team never had a winning season while DeSantis was there. (“Pretty sure we were the worst team in Division One,” one of his teammates told me.) In his senior year, he was among the best hitters, batting .336, and was elected captain. His former teammates’ recollections are sharply divided, but nearly everyone I spoke with remembered him as singularly focussed, with little time for parties or goofing off; he worked several jobs to help pay his tuition. “Ron was a bit of a loner, not a social butterfly,” Dave Fortenbaugh, a former teammate, told me. “He spent a lot of hours in the library.”

Some recalled that DeSantis was so intensely focussed that he wasn’t much of a teammate. “Ron is the most selfish person I have ever interacted with,” another teammate told me. “He has always loved embarrassing and humiliating people. I’m speaking for others—he was the biggest dick we knew.” But the same teammate praised DeSantis’s intellect. “This is the frustrating part. He’s so fucking smart and so creative,” he said. “You couldn’t even plagiarize off his work. He’d take some angle, and everyone knew there was only one person who could have done that.”

After graduating, with honors, DeSantis taught history for a year at the Darlington School, a private institution in Rome, Georgia, before enrolling at Harvard Law School; a friend told me that he’d been inspired by the movie “A Few Good Men.” In the film, Tom Cruise plays a judge advocate general—a Navy attorney—who defends marines accused of a deadly assault at the Guantánamo Bay Naval Base. With the war in Iraq still raging, DeSantis, too, became a judge advocate general. He was posted to Naval Station Mayport, near Jacksonville, and also to Guantánamo, where he dealt with detainees. A colleague who served with DeSantis remembered, “Ron was a voracious worker, and he worked at phenomenal speed. He was a superb writer, especially for his age.” Even then, his ambition seemed consuming. “Ron’s a user,” the former colleague told me. “If you had utility to him, he would be nice to you. If you didn’t, he wouldn’t give you the time of day.”

In 2007, DeSantis deployed to Iraq as a lawyer for seal Team One, which was conducting operations in Ramadi. The seals have a reputation for being secretive and insular, but DeSantis enjoyed their company, his father told me: “He worked out with them.” DeSantis briefed the seals on rules of engagement—when they could shoot, how they should treat prisoners. “Of course we were worried about him,” his father said. “Ron told us he was just in one place, in Ramadi, but afterwards we found out that he’d been moving all around the area, from city to city, with the seals. It really upset my wife.”

Back in Florida, DeSantis started dating Casey Black, a television news reporter for WJXT, in Jacksonville; in 2010, they were married. Not long afterward, a seat opened up in the Sixth Congressional District, south of Jacksonville Beach. In 2012, DeSantis entered the race.

DeSantis campaigned on smaller government and lower taxes, arguing to overturn Obamacare and eliminate entire federal agencies. “My mission was largely to stop Barack Obama,” he told a crowd later. As the campaign got under way, DeSantis published a book titled “Dreams from Our Founding Fathers”—a swipe at the President’s memoir. For a campaign book, it’s unusually wide-ranging, with carefully argued sections on the Federalist Papers, the Progressive Era, and the leftist theoretician Saul Alinsky. The basic contention, though, would have been familiar to followers of Barry Goldwater: “The conceit that underlies many of Obama’s policies and his allies is that virtually any issue, from the waistline of children to the temperature of the earth, is ripe for intervention of expert (and progressive) central planners.” DeSantis’s book was largely ignored—he once told a crowd that it was “read by about a dozen people”—but his message resonated in the Sixth District, one of the most conservative in the state. He won the election, and was reëlected twice by wide margins.

In Congress, an institution where seniority matters, DeSantis had little time to make a substantive impact. Theatrically, though, he created an impression. He helped found the Freedom Caucus, an invitation-only club of hard-right conservatives, and he was among the Republicans who took the government to the brink of default by refusing to raise the national-debt ceiling. Many people worried that the move would harm the government’s credit rating and the country’s economy. Even John Boehner, the House Speaker, opposed it. In response, DeSantis joined a group of Republican congressmen who threatened to remove Boehner from his post. “There were governing conservatives and shutdown conservatives,” David Jolly, a congressman from Florida who served with DeSantis, told me. “Ron was a shutdown conservative.”

Many of DeSantis’s colleagues remember him as remote. A former member of the Florida delegation told me, “He always had his earbuds in, to keep people away.” Others, like Jolly, had a more temperate view. “He’s a little reclusive, a bit of an odd duck,” Jolly said, “but he’s just incredibly disciplined.”

For anybody who’s as fervent a DeSantis fanboi as I am, this is one heck of an absorbing article. For those of you who aren’t necessarily so solidly in the DeSantis camp just yet, there’s a lot in it you’ll enjoy nonetheless. Caveat: since it’s the New Yorker we’re talking about here, be prepared to pull your hip waders all the way up to your chin; you’ll be wading through a veritable Okeefenokee Swamp of liberal bullshit and wouldn’t want to get yourself coated from top to toe in the nasty, stinky ichor. Exhibit A:

For decades, the Democratic Party had commanded a majority of Florida’s registered voters. But the state was changing, as Trump’s election helped energize a shift in political affinities. The Republican Party’s rank and file became increasingly radical, and G.O.P. leaders appeared only too happy to follow them. “There was always an element of the Republican Party that was batshit crazy,” Mac Stipanovich, the chief of staff to Governor Bob Martinez, a moderate Republican, told me. “They had lots of different names—they were John Birchers, they were ‘movement conservatives,’ they were the religious right. And we did what every other Republican candidate did: we exploited them. We got them to the polls. We talked about abortion. We promised—and we did nothing. They could grumble, but their choices were limited.

All those stupid Trumpians, just useful idiots waiting to be exploited by the more intelligent “moderates” whose sole ambition upon gaining office is to betray the drooling schmucks who vote for them as reliably as yesterday’s sunrise, regardless of how many GOPe knives they’ve had to pull from between their shoulder blades over all those years of Old Yeller-style loyalty. “Increasingly radical,” “batshit crazy”—by which they mean “actually conservative,” “principled,” and “enthusiastic.” Do please note that, as with every Establishment Media propaganda outlet, the New Yorker will never allow the words “radical” and “Democrat” to appear in the same sentence. Exhibit B:

“So what happened?” Stipanovich continued. “Trump opened Pandora’s box and let them out. And all the nasty stuff that was in the underbelly of American politics got a voice. What was thirty-five per cent of the Republican Party is now eighty-five per cent. And it’s too late to turn back.”

“All the nasty stuff that was in the underbelly of American politics”—you listening out there, Joe and Jane Lunchbucket? Because as far as Uniparty factotums are concerned, they’re playing your song with the above condescending tripe. Now if all you McDonald’s-eating, WalMart-shopping, God-bothering, Coors-Lite-slurping, burger-grilling, New Yorker-ignoring, blue-collar-working mouthbreathers would kindly just lock yourselves back into Pandora’s box again, we can get back to ruling you disgusting fatbody boobs, as is our Divine Right.

“Nasty stuff” let out by Trump, to the undying mortification of Beltway Bandits one and all—that would be what Real Americans know as simple, common-sense, Constitutional conservatism. Y’know, revolting, freakishly depraved scrapings from off the distended American underbelly such as, oh, say, religious faith; a strictly limited central government; an abiding respect for tradition, family ties, and our shared American heritage; independence of mind and of spirit; a natural, unpretentious sense of patriotism, duty, and pride in American strength and success.

If you can overlook the obnoxious current of petty, supercilious conceit and effete urban sanctimony that runs through this entire piece like a strong shore-side undertow, there really is a great bounty of information to be found here, and much to be learned from it. There’s an irritating trend I’m noticing more and more of lately, however: the self-evident Establishment Media campaign to gin up some real hostility between Trump and DeSantis, a transparent ploy intended to dilute and deflect the burgeoning opposition to the Conqueror Left’s long, victorious march by pitting the movement’s two most important leadership figures against one another. It’s another dismaying example of The Enemy’s unswerving focus on retaining the initiative via keeping its Offensive squad always on the field, while the Deee-fense stays on the sidelines riding the pines. That’s been a brilliantly successful game plan for the Left over recent years, notching win after unanswered win for Team Tyranny. Hopefully, both Trump and DeSantis are savvy enough players not to let themselves be taken in by it this go-round.

The New Yorker, casting about for an effective weapon to wield against a suddenly rising political star they clearly fear and loathe, expends a ludicrous amount of effort and column-inches on slamming the Florida Governor’s appropriately liberty-oriented Chinky Pox response. In this long piece they trot out the very same litany of distortion and escalating fabrication that permanently obliterated the public’s trust in its governmental, health care, and national-media institutions, in hopes that they’ll work equally well to discredit DeSantis’s staunch resistance to permitting Florida to lapse into panic-driven medical tyranny on his watch.

Alas for them, there’s something those poor media dears just aren’t seeing, and the irony of it is hilarious.

As the death toll mounted, he was mocked by critics as “DeathSantis” and denounced by the mainstream press. “Any public distrust of this administration has been well-earned,” the Miami Herald editorial board wrote. “We can’t trust the governor with our lives.” A former political adviser with knowledge of the covid response told me that DeSantis was unfazed: “We were getting crucified, but to him it was just noise.” DeSantis revels in defying what he sees as a corrupt and self-satisfied liberal establishment. Those who work closely with him say that he is unique among elected officials in his disregard for public opinion and the press. “Ron’s strength as a politician is that he doesn’t give a fuck,” a Republican consultant who knows him told me. “Ron’s weakness as a politician is that he doesn’t give a fuck. Big donors? He doesn’t give a shit. Cancels on them all the time.”

Maybe you ink-stained wretches should sit down for this staggering revelation, but you’ll be seeing a whole lot more disregard for the press henceforth, and not just from DeSantis either. There are uncounted millions of us out there who have been waiting for years—decades—for a leader who shares our disgust with the corrupt and self-satisfied liberal establishment to come along, one with the cojones to revel in defying the sorry bastards.

DeSantis might be “unique among elected officials” in his disdain for the liberal press, but that attitude is universal among MAGA people, America Firsters, Trump supporters, and DeSantis fans. Trust me, whenever Ron or his press secretary, the seriously awesome Christina Pushaw, take off the gloves to throw some bare-knuckles haymakers at liberal-media glass jaws, there are hordes of DeSantis People cheering him or her on. When some press-gaggle carbuncle waxes all butthurt over not being treated quite as deferentially as His Royal Carbuncleness had come to expect, whereupon Our Boy refuses to be intimidated by the wormy likes of him, throws press-room politesse to the wind, and doubles down on his verbal Alpha strike instead, our delight in Da Guv soars to new heights.

See, it’s like this: we don’t like you cringing hyenas one jot or tittle more than Ron DeSantis does. The more openly he hates you, the more we love him for it. It’s why any of your number still foolish or delusional enough to imagine himself a respected and admired Hero Of The Proletariat™ is going to suffer a terrible shock any minute now, a powerful enough one to potentially stop his heart for good. Because any minute now, it’s going to be brought home to the fool that, when Trump characterized the shitlib media as not merely a nuisance but in fact a deadly enemy of the Republic, We The People agreed completely with his assessment. We’d realized it already, and were glad that somebody finally had the guts to come right out and speak the plain truth without any of the usual hemming and hawing around.

We are legion. We are fed up. And we can only be pushed so far before we start to push back. The meteoric rise of Ron DeSantis is but the barest beginning of it. And the harder shitlibs weep and wail about what a mean old poopyhead Fascist he is, the harder we will laugh at their absurd melodramatics, and the bigger our army will become.

18

SHALL. NOT. BE. ETC ETC ETC

It’s not that Leftards don’t get the 2A—don’t understand it, can’t comprehend what it so clearly and unequivocally says, what it so clearly and unequivocally means. It’s that they DO understand all those things perfectly well, and the knowledge burns them like fire.

It couldn’t have been more perfect than Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas penning the definitive decision that the right to carry guns on one’s person for self-defense is inherent for all Americans.

First of all, Thomas has been after the court to take up more gun rights cases. He used his considerable influence with Chief Justice John Roberts to continue looking for gun rights cases to take. The New York State Rifle & Pistol Association, Inc., et al. v. Bruen and the state of New York was the obvious choice. Remember, the state of New York, before Thursday’s decision as a “may issue” state, read the tea leaves and tailored its law after the federal courts were prevailed upon to take the case.

Second, Thomas is the one who assigns the decisions when the conservatives are in the majority due to his seniority on the court, according to former federal prosecutor Andy McCarthy. Thomas assigned himself the task of writing for the majority opinion. This may explain why he chose Justice Samuel Alito to pen the other hot button decision of the court this session, the Dobbs abortion case.

Thomas left no doubt that there shouldn’t be a test to determine if one should be permitted to carry a gun. Concurring opinions by Justices Roberts, Kavanaugh, and Barrett made clear that this doesn’t mean the right is unfettered, but that justices must apply strict scrutiny to any decision about it, as all civil rights cases must be considered.

Thomas wrote, “the constitutional right to bear arms in public for self-defense is not ‘a second-class right, subject to an entirely different body of rules than the other Bill of Rights guarantees.’ McDonald, 561 U. S., at 780 (plurality opinion). The exercise of other constitutional rights does not require individuals to demonstrate to government officers some special need. The Second Amendment right to carry arms in public for self-defense is no different. New York’s proper-cause requirement violates the Fourteenth Amendment by preventing law-abiding citizens with ordinary self-defense needs from exercising their right to keep and bear arms in public.”

New York and other “may issue” states require persons who want to carry a weapon to demonstrate a need with which the state agrees. And Thomas, noting that Heller had already decided this issue, blew that up for good, saying the two-step balancing test required by the state was “one step too many.” Indeed, the one test he endorsed was the historical “traditions of the American people…[which] demands our unqualified deference.” When was the last time you heard someone in the federal government say that?

Can’t recall hearing such a ringing endorsement of bedrock American principle since Ronald Reagan, maybe even longer. But how perfectly fitting that this full-throated affirmation of American rights and liberties should come from the greatest of all Supreme Court Justices, the brilliant and indispensable Clarence Thomas, may God bless and preserve him.

Alito stood up tall, proud, and righteous with some worthy remarks of his own.

In light of what we have actually held, it is hard to see what legitimate purpose can possibly be served by most of the dissent’s lengthy introductory section. Why, for example, does the dissent think it is relevant to recount the mass shootings that have occurred in recent years? Does the dissent think that laws like New York’s prevent or deter such atrocities? Will a person bent on carrying out a mass shooting be stopped if he knows that it is illegal to carry a handgun outside the home? And how does the dissent account for the fact that one of the mass shootings near the top of its list took place in Buffalo? The New York law at issue in this case obviously did not stop that perpetrator. What is the relevance of statistics about the use of guns to commit suicide? Does the dissent think that a lot of people who possess guns in their homes will be stopped or deterred from shooting themselves if they cannot lawfully take them outside? The dissent cites statistics about the use of guns in domestic disputes, but it does not explain why these statistics are relevant to the question presented in this case. How many of the cases involving the use of a gun in a domestic dispute occur outside the home, and how many are prevented by laws like New York’s?

The dissent cites statistics on children and adolescents killed by guns, but what does this have to do with the question whether an adult who is licensed to possess a handgun may be prohibited from carrying it outside the home? Our decision, as noted, does not expand the categories of people who may lawfully possess a gun, and federal law generally forbids the possession of a handgun by a person who is under the age of 18, and bars the sale of a handgun to anyone under the age of 21. The dissent cites the large number of guns in private hands—nearly 400 million—but it does not explain what this statistic has to do with the question whether a person who already has the right to keep a gun in the home for self-defense is likely to be deterred from acquiring a gun by the knowledge that the gun cannot be carried outside the home.

And while the dissent seemingly thinks that the ubiquity of guns and our country’s high level of gun violence provide reasons for sustaining the New York law, the dissent appears not to understand that it is these very facts that cause law-abiding citizens to feel the need to carry a gun for self-defense.

They don’t care about any of that, any more than they do about the Constitution, the sacred American birthright of individual liberty, or any other of the fundamental things that made us the blessed, extraordinary nation we once were. The only thing the Left knows is that they HATE guns; they fear them viscerally and irrationally, and the idea of any ordinary American citizen owning even one gives them the shivering fantods. Ace lays the whole thing out for us:

Alito also says this:

Like that dissent in Heller, the real thrust of today’s dissent is that guns are bad and that States and local jurisdictions should be free to restrict them essentially as they see fit. That argument was rejected in Heller, and while the dissent protests that it is not rearguing Heller, it proceeds to do just that.

I think that’s less snarky than simply accurate: lefties think guns are bad and so don’t care if any anti-gun law is actually effective in reducing crime. They think that any burden on gun ownership is a positive boon, whether it helps the crime rate or not, because guns are bad and gun ownership should be discouraged by any penalty or harassment the state can dream up.

The left is forever caught unprepared to answer the basic question, “But how does your proposed gun control law affect the crime that just happened, that you say you’re proposing this gun law to prevent?”

It’s because none of this is about stopping gun crime; it’s just about stopping guns.

Annnnnd bingo. Really, we can reduce it down still further: it isn’t about guns, specific gun-control legislation, school shootings, or crime. Ultimately, what it all comes down to is the same old thing it always does with shitlibs: CONTROL. The Left has no control to exercise over gun owners, who well know what they are, despise them for it, and will cheerfully go well out of their way to make sure Lefty doesn’t ever forget it.

Gun owners believe in an unalienable right to private ownership of firearms expressly bequeathed to them by the Founders, as delineated in the Constitution they wrote for the purpose. They fully intend to protect that right for themselves and their posterity, which is best done by the exercising of it. Gun owners do not give a fat rat’s ass for what Progressivists may think or feel about this.

The supreme indifference of gun owners for shitlib opinion as they happily go about taking fullest advantage of what it means to be a real American galls Leftists horribly, all the more so because they can easily see this for the upraised middle finger waved in their general direction it so truly is. Any day shitlib snouts are being rubbed into a stinking, steaming pantload of all-American FUCK YOU!™ is a good day for our battered but not quite beaten nation.

This would be one of those days.

Update! Just gotta include this:


Many, many happy returns to you, sir.

The Blueing of America update! The most encouraging thing I’ve seen in a long, long time.

Swiped from WRSA.

2

Sick, boys!

One for my boy Big Country.



I’m thinking BCE might not have found that as amusing as I do a cpl-three days ago, when he was deep in the throes of I-wish-I-was-dead-itude. Now that he seems to be on the mend, though, hopefully he’ll get a small chuckle out of it.

Meanwhile, I also ran across a somewhat less recent live Social D vid, this one from all the way back in 1997. As it happens, the BPs opened for ’em on the CLT date of that tour, which took place at the long-since defunct and demolished Tremont Music Hall. After our set, we were hanging with a few buds of ours in our green room when Ness—with whom I had become good friends back when he spent a few months mastering their huge breakthrough release White Light White Heat White Trash in NYC—came crashing in to bitch at me about nobody having informed him we were the support act that night.

“Okay, well, you guys are doing support tomorrow night in Atlanta, right? And then the night after in Birmingham?” “Ummmm, no, Mike, we ain’t on either of those bills. It was just tonight, and we’re done with that already. Sorry, buddy.” He seemed to be genuinely upset at having missed us, even though he’d attended all of our shows at Rodeo Bar in NYC with my friend Kendra in tow over the months he was in residence in the Big Rotten Apple, so was presumably every bit as familiar with our act as we were our own selves.

This recording is old enough to include what to most Social D fans will always be thought of as the “classic” lineup of Ness, the late Dennis Danell, John Maurer, and a man who is probably the greatest punk rock drummer of them all, Chuck Biscuits. If I remember right, it was the first and biggest of several new-rock radio hits yielded up by White Light White Heat.



Biscuits, a real hard-hitter if ever there was one, got his start with the seminal Canadian punk outfit DOA, following that up with stints with California hardcore icons Black Flag and the Circle Jerks before landing in a little ol’ band called Danzig, a move engineered by producer Rick Rubin at the specific behest of Glenn Danzig himself.

Since I’ve put myself in mind of all that good ol’ punk stuff I used to love so much, might as well subject y’all to one of DOA’s best.



Hard to believe now that we were ever that young.

2

When only one side is open to fair and honest debate, guess which side will win

An argument founded on a false premise.

If the recent assassination attempt targeting Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh weren’t sufficient proof that a divided America is tiptoeing toward violent conflict, a research firm released a “disturbing poll” showing that nearly half of male Democrats under the age of 50 believe it acceptable to assassinate a politician “who is harming the country or our democracy.”

Uh huh. Know who else deemed ruthless politically-motivated violence not only “acceptable,” but downright essential? Go on, guess.

Sen. Rand Paul, who has suffered two violent, politically motivated attacks in recent years, called out the White House and congressional Democrats for “ginning up and encouraging” violence. However, in a country that increasingly eschews rational debate and embraces the vituperative soundbites of reality TV, it can be no surprise that the political stakes in America are tending toward bloodshed.

The author’s overly delicate sensibilities prevent him from digging down deep enough to uncover the root cause behind both the eschewal of rational, respectful debate and the escalating inclination towards bloodshed: the America-hating Left’s open advocacy for extreme authoritarianist tyranny, an ideology which is impossible to reconcile with the ideals of our Founding Fathers.

It was once widely understood in the United States that vociferous debate and vigorous policy disagreement were features of a healthy American society. Hashing out arguments over contested issues in the public square had two immediate salubrious effects: it allowed the average American to appreciate the “pros” and “cons” of consequential policy decisions, and it provided those whose viewpoints did not win the day to nonetheless speak their minds.

Here we have ourselves another insuperable problem: how can any debate, vociferous or otherwise, take place when of the two contestants has demonstrated, repeatedly and unequivocally, his inflexible disdain for it? Is their any point to trading away our core ideals in bootless pursuit of a hopeless bargain? If you’re open to compromise with Leftists, which parts of the Constitution are you willing to throw away? How many times must a stubborn fool be kicked in the teeth before he stops crawling back for more of the same?

As a testament to how vital debate and disagreement are to the process of creating good public policy, it has often been the case throughout American history that the well-articulated arguments of the “losing side” eventually rise to guide future generations.

Another suicidal, self-evidently false assumption: that the phantasmagorical ideal of a decent, patriotic, well-intentioned Left whom men of integrity can trust to engage in honest debate lives on still, perhaps even thrives, in direct contravention of all available evidence. The importance of well-articulated arguments and respectful disagreement lies not so much in their being vital to the health of a Republic than in being confirmational markers of a healthy Republic’s existence.

Of all the fruits that naturally grow from the variegated branches of free speech, its disposition toward counseling wisdom is perhaps the sweetest. In an age when the word “democracy” is thrown around indiscriminately by politicians who wish to clothe themselves in its virtuous connotations, it is society’s respect for diverse opinions and its willingness to engage those opinions with serious debate that truly provide the cornerstone of any democratic system.

Yet where does our nation stand today — on the side of free and muscular debate, confident that lively disagreement only strengthens America’s foundations? Or on the side of insular state-sponsored dogma that tends to smother the full range of voices naturally expected from a diverse society? 

To ask the question is to answer it. In a society truly confident in the strengthening quality of free and muscular debate, there’s no need to even ask. In a society smothering under the malign insularity of state-sponsored dogma, questioning it is outlawed, a criminal offense.

So what does it say about the current health of our nation that so many Americans seem unable or unwilling to respect opposing points of view? What does it say about our political leaders when they increasingly spurn public debate and vilify those with whom they disagree? What does it say about our institutions when they are quick to label those who protest government policies as “domestic terrorists”? What does it say about our prominent news publications when they declare certain debates “settled” or certain opinions “disinformation”?

What does it say about the author, that he would have us “respect” creeping Marxist tyranny in our own goddamned country instead of fighting to the very last extreme to destroy it?

It says, I believe, that we are advancing down a dangerous path in the United States, one that will only become more treacherous the more we refuse to “agree to disagree.” Silencing opinion to drown out noise will only cause greater animosity.

Which animosity, on the part of the blameless multitudes who have been unjustly silenced, is entirely commendable. Admittedly, the path is a dangerous one. Unfortunately, we’ve advanced practically to the end of it, we’re just coasting along with no brakes, and it’s all downhill for us now.

Censoring dissent in order to fabricate “unanimous agreement” will only lead to bad policy outcomes. Demonizing adversaries as unworthy of consideration will only divide us more sharply.

Apart from the malodorous and un-American use of censorship, insult, and intimidation to manipulate public debate, increasing incidents of political violence are timely reminders why vigorous argument still serves this country best.

“Vigorous argument” can best serve only a healthy Republic, whose polity holds values and beliefs that may differ, but are in the main compatible.

If debate and disagreement are no longer understood as hallmarks of the American system of democracy, then that system will quickly go up in smoke. If individual Americans are treated as “domestic enemies” for their political beliefs, then spiraling violence becomes inevitable.

Got some bad news for ya, JB: the American system, a perennially-harried combustible “transitioned” by fanatically patient and determined Leftist firebugs into soot and smoke which long since wafted right up the chimney, out, and away. Worst of all, if we’re too prissy, too stiff with delusion, too complacent and/or cowed, to admit to ourselves the existence of a formidable OpFor contingent of bona-fide, self-declared “Enemies, Domestic,” we were soundly defeated well before the first shot was fired.

It’s remarkable, the number of otherwise intelligent people who sincerely believe today’s dissolute, incurious, lazy-minded generation of Americans to be well above so much as contemplating any future resort to the barbaric measures employed by our primitive, unenlightened Founders to carve out a new nation from the constricting coils of the British Empire for themselves and their posterity. As if Jefferson’s prophetic warnings of the ever-present need to maintain a finely-honed edge on our ability to call down the thunder whenever the situation requires it of liberty-loving Americans.

3

Downing tools

Bitter Centurion has had a gutful of it.

I think it might be time for me to shut down for awhile. I don’t know how many people out there actually read the gibberish and rantings of a guy like me, but I’ve appreciated all who did. There are some out there, many of whom are accomplished bloggers in their own right (Glen Filthie and Big Country Expat are two that come to mind) whom I’ve had the pleasure and privilege of exchanging with.

The other thing is, what’s left to rant about? Sure, I could write posts and posts about how much Justin Trudeau and his confederacy of assholes and idiots are fucking Canada up beyond all possible means of repair. But anyone reading my blog already knows that and the ones who aren’t either a.) don’t have a problem with any of that, or b.) don’t give a shit – which is pretty much the same as point a.).  His government is entirely lawless and extremely dangerous, putting every person living in this country in severe peril. But we know this already.

I could even write more about how betrayed and hurt I felt after I, and anyone else out there who took a stand against that fucker Trudeau and his mandates – which, clearly by now, were designed ONLY to hurt the people who he doesn’t like (RE: the blue collar, middle class working people who don’t live in Toronto, Ottawa, Vancouver, Montreal, or any other government town) – were basically cast out and treated as pariahs by people who, NOT MORE THAN A WEEK before the mandates went into effect, I was going to high risk calls and putting my ass on the line with.  Because of that, I saw the true colours of people I never in a million years thought I’d ever see. Yes, I saw a good number of those people as the vindictive and cruel assholes I always knew them to be, but to my surprise I saw even more people turning out to be scared, self interested cowards who actually wouldn’t take a bullet, not even a figurative one, for a brother/sister officer. A hard pill to swallow, yes…but maybe not as shocking in the end as it ought to be.

I could talk a fair deal about how the RCMP, an organization I had joined with the intent to serve and protect the people of Canada and their rights and freedoms, knowing that it had more than its fair share of problems and scandals, has shown itself for all to see to be nothing more than a political blunt instrument for the Liberal Party of Canada, loyal at the end of the day to them and NOT the Canadian people or the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. Today, it’s not even a shadow of the image it has sold itself to the country and the world to be, let alone a tribute to its predecessors. Sure…I could write about that shit until the cows come home. But would I really be telling anyone anything they didn’t already know?

Well, the answer to all that is ‘no’. All of these things bring up a lot of negative emotions, from pissing me right the fuck off, to being deeply saddening, to causing enough worry and despair to have me seriously consider buying a shit ton of shares in Maalox. But what does bitching about it and centering my life around it contributing, in the grand scheme of things?

It’s like this article I read the other night:

https://www.zerohedge.com/markets/its-worse-many-can-imagine-kim-dotcom-sees-controlled-demolition-enabling-new-dystopian

This was partly my breaking point, where I decided I’d had enough fear porn. It’s like, ‘Yeah. No fucking shit, asshole. The vast majority of people who would be reading an article like this already know we, and most of the world at large, are run by a cabal of corrupt, greedy motherfuckers in government who collude with and get paid dump trucks full of money by corrupt, greedy motherfuckers in corporate and absolutely none of them, not a single one, gives a rusty fuck who gets hurt or killed or what gets destroyed along the way. We already fucking knew that. But do you have any solutions, oh grand and brilliant tech CEO? No? Really? Huh…gotta say, I’m fucking shocked.’

It’s like getting the shit beaten out of you every, single day. After awhile, you get numb to it and stop giving a damn. I think that’s the point where I’m at now.

I’ve rassled with this issue my own self, and know exactly where BC is coming from with this. Now, it ain’t for me to be offering advice to the man, and such is not my aim. But I feel obliged to say that more than twenty years of toiling in this strange and wonderful field has led me to conclude that there IS considerable intrinsic worth in carrying on with this bloggery thingamabobber, even if I’m only restating stuff Our Side knows all about already. A few reasons why I think so:

  • I like to think CF is a source of at least some small support and encouragement for folks who find precious little of any such from the usual information-and-opinion outlets, a counter to the feeling of isolation the liberal media works so hard to inculcate in us
  • The venting thing BC mentions ain’t no small beer to a hot-tempered, can’t-shut-him-up loudmouth like myself; had I not been able to sit down behind a keyboard to shout my hatred, rage, and frustration to the heavens for lo, these many years, I’d have probably fallen over dead from a suppressed-rage induced coronary event back during Bathhouse Barry’s first term
  • As a blogger, I’ve repeatedly been reminded that you really never know how many good people out there are counting on you and the forum you provide to help them get through their day without getting disheartened
  • Everybody involved in them—whether as active participants or lurkers—benefits from a vigorous, lively comments section; no matter how smart or well-read one may be, there’s always something new to be learned in those discussions
  • However small a minority we may be—whether or not our combined voices can ever carry far enough to truly matter when it comes to having any real impact—if we all go dark the resulting silence will certainly breed a dangerous confidence in the Left that they’ve won at last, and God only knows what hideous catastrophes THAT would bring about
  • Likewise, when we carry on with all our shouting at the moon we remind all and sundry that we ain’t defeated just yet—that we remain undaunted, defiant, and a general pain in the ass to them still

Those things may not amount to reason enough to keep on keepin’ on for every Righty blogger, of course. But speaking strictly for my own self, they’ll do quite nicely for now. Bitter Centurion, all best wishes to you from here, brother; from what I can see, you’re exactly the kind of blogger AND cop that we will never have enough of and can ill afford to lose, and you will be missed by more than you’ll ever know. Keep the faith, do your best to stay positive despite everything, and, as my biker bros like to say: Illegitimi non carborundum.

10
6

Be afraid—be VERY afraid

Correia knows wassup.


Good indeed, and dead on the money, but it could be better. Personally, I want ’em not just afraid, but MORTALLY TERRIFIED. And I want their terror to be completely justified, the validation stamp renewed every single fucking day.

You hearing me, Congresscrawlers?

J6-CongressCrawler-ZOOM.png

America won’t be America again until every lower order life-form in DC wears an expression like that whimpering pillowbiter’s on his mug all day, every day.

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3

Drain that Swamp—this time for reals

Derb says he wants Trumpism without Trump—which, after reading the post, doesn’t sound too terribly unreasonable or irrational to me, I must admit.

The hatred our Ruling Class has for Trump is manifest. It still, after six years, burns fierce and bright. It’s really an extraordinary thing.

And this hatred, this Trump Derangement Syndrome, is just the emblem, the outward symbol, of their hatred for us, normal white Americans.

Sixty-three million of us voted for Trump in 2016 because, I think they know, we were fed up with having their anti-white, anti-American ideology rammed down our throats.

Trump was an outsider, not one of them, not a member of the Uniparty establishment. That’s why we liked him; that’s why they hate him.

I hope for a Trumpish victory in 2024. Here’s my advice to the victor: Drain that swamp!

In particular, end the naked politicization of federal law enforcement. There need to be mass purges, mass firings, from the Departments of Justice, Homeland Security, and Defense.

I’m not sure how deep the purges would need to go. At the bottom levels—border security officers in Homeland Security, for example—there must be many federal employees who’d be glad to do their jobs if they were allowed to. Perhaps the same is even true of the FBI.

In the upper ranks, though, where the decisions are made to hunt down and persecute dissidents and turn blind eyes to real crime, I want to see mass layoffs.

I’ll even pay their damned inflated federal pensions; just get them out of Washington, D.C.

For a really radical approach, consider just shutting down departments and agencies altogether. America got along for 157 years without an FBI; do we really need one? We managed for two hundred and twenty-seven years without a Department of Homeland Security; how on earth did we cope?

A damned sight better than we are now, that’s beyond argument.

And if you’re going to be that radical, go further and move federal departments out of Washington, D.C. The city is a hive of intrigue. What would be wrong with the Justice Department being based in Idaho, Defense in Kansas, Treasury in Arkansas, the State Department in…oh, I don’t know…Alaska?

Let’s have some real reform: reform in the direction of more of our traditional liberties, more local control of our affairs, less power to the Administrative State. The course we are currently on leads to despotism and despair. Let’s change course.

I’m sorry: the sheer volume of dishonesty and hypocrisy, of disregard for truth and facts, gets me sputtering. We’re really getting up to North Korean levels of Establishment lying.

Excellent ideas all, in no way diminished by the astronomical odds against their ever being implemented. And then we come to John’s litany of grievances against Trump, which, as I said, I can’t find a whole heck of a lot to disagree with.

Meanwhile I feel bound to say that, while I think it’s deplorable for our national legislature to sink to these depths in order to prevent one particular candidate running for office in 2024, I wouldn’t mind much if they were to succeed.

Personally, I don’t want Trump running in 2024. He’d be 78 on Election Day and that’s too old. Enough with these geezers. I’m in the same zone myself, and I am all too well aware of how my energy level—my willingness and ability to get things done—has faded. [“Energy in the Executive is a leading character in the definition of good government,” wrote Alexander Hamilton in Federalist No. 10. We’d get more sense from a President Trump than we’re getting from Joe Biden—how could we get less? —but we wouldn’t be getting any more energy.

And his age aside, I just don’t think Trump’s a good candidate. Sure, he had some positive accomplishments, on federal regulations, for example, and energy independence, and telling foreigners to keep out of our business.

There was too much I find hard to forgive, though: his failure to exercise his will over Congress in those two years that his party controlled both houses, the lack of any urgency in building the Border Wall he’d promised, his shameful treatment of Jeff Sessions (and Ann Coulter), his indulgence of the slimy subversive Jared Kushner…too many negatives.

I want Trumpism. But I don’t want Trump.

But yeah, sure: if he is the GOP candidate in 2024, I’ll clench my teeth and vote for him, just to stick a finger in the Ruling Class’s collective eye.

Which poke in the eye, of course, was the very thing that put him in the White House to begin with. My only real quibble here is with that “shameful” treatment of Sessions crack; at the time, it annoyed me that, even after Sessions had knifed him in the back by needlessly bowing down in worshipful obeisance to the Holy Mueller Inquisition, Trump dragged his feet instead of shitcanning the weak Swampling posthaste. Trump’s lackadaisical near-indifference towards quickly ejecting the vipers from his nest once they’d shown themselves to be scaly, belly-crawling, fanged reptiles was a mistake that would recur again and again throughout his tenure, and would wind up being a YUUUUGE contributing factor in the tragic neutering of the Trump Presidency. I was mystified by Trump’s reluctance to draw the Long Knife across the deserving necks then, and I still am now.

Likewise, worse actually, with his bestowing positions of great power and influence on the shitlib Kushner and his equally-unreliable spouse, neither of whom had a discernible scrap of experience, qualification, or aptitude for the job. It was the overindulgent father handing the keys of the brand-new family car on a Saturday night to the very same confirmed-drunkard teenaged son who had already totalled the last two in alcohol-fueled crashes, writ as epically large as can be imagined—a national disaster, rather than a family one. His failure to bring Congress properly to heel was at least nominally understandable, although I can’t quite forgive him for it; he was sent to Mordor on the Potomac expressly to Drain the Swamp, after all, a Sisypheian undertaking which nobody but nobody thought was going to be simply or easily accomplished. The Jared and Ivanka business, though? Bizarre, wholly incomprehensible, and to my mind unforgivable.

Like Derb, I’d really rather Trump take himself out of the 2024 fray as a candidate, if perhaps not for the same reasons as John. I can’t see him achieving a whole lot beyond doing himself real damage thereby; he could play a much more important and less personally-risky role with his patented massive rallies, powerful speeches, and getting out on the hustings in support of good, meticulously-vetted MAGA candidates. The point about Trump’s age is also one I agree with wholeheartedly; FederalGovCo has for too long been the exclusive province of graybeards in their dotage who can’t be removed from their lucrative sinecures without the aid of large quantities of high explosives, which I don’t consider in any way a good thing. An infusion of fresher, younger blood is badly needed, I think.

All of which, of course, is more or less moot anyway. With an encore performance of 2020’s wildly successful ballot-box jiggery-pokey perpetrated by the Usual Suspects an absolute certainty, neither Trump nor any other candidate genuinely pledged to real reform has a snowball’s chance of garnering the 60 to 70 percent victory required to overcome the built-in Democrat/Deep State margin of fraud. 2015-16 was a one-of-a-kind confluence of events, attitudes, and personalities that can never be repeated, lighting a fuse that’s impossible to extinguish and must burn down to the very end. The conflagration it will ignite is all that really matters now.

Trump has made his contribution, and it was no small or trivial one. He ought to steel himself against the urgings of ego, step back, and watch the fireworks with the rest of us who will always appreciate his outsized role in bringing the spark to the place it most needed to be.

10

Hercules strikes again!

Kevin Sorbo makes with the bedrock common sense, as is his usual wont.


Only a fully tweaked-out Leftard could find this outrageous or offensive.

5

Elongate!!!

So of course the shitlibs are now trying desperately to gin up some kind of sex scandal they can use to lay Elon Musk low, the cheeky iconoclast having proven to be completely impervious to everything else they’ve tried so far to bring him to heel and put him back in his proper place. To wit:


Bless his heart, he doesn’t seem to give a fart in a whirlwind about any of that horseshit, either:


Between Musk, DeSantis, Tucker, Trump, and a handful of others, we’re living in what could fairly be thought of as a Golden Age for smacking libtards around and making the whiny douchenozzles cry, and I for one am loving it. As Glenn quips: When you’re targeted by a clown show, the only proper response is to point and laugh. Most satisfying of all is the way they react when they get their noses tweaked like this, losing it completely in paroxysms of spluttering, stammering rage. Being aggressively taunted, disregarded, and openly made sport of—especially when it’s coming from the kind of people whose habitual passivity, obsequiousness, and reflexive assumption of the defensive crouch they’d long since come to take for granted—is such an alien sensation for them they simply can’t help but blow their stacks every time it happens to them anew.

7

A conversation with Sarah Palin

Salena Zito checks in with a REAL maverick, as opposed to the phony-ass John McCain variety.

Sarah Palin Dishes on Trump, Her Congress Run, and Love With Ron Duguay
She declared her run for Congress on April 1—just weeks after visiting New York City to pursue a defamation suit against the New York Times.

“When I announced, I said, ‘Alaskans, if you hire me, I would love to work for you. I will go to Washington, D.C., and I’ll represent you,’ not really considering all the politics involved because as the days go on, you realize, ‘Oh my gosh. OK, here comes the political machine,’” she said of the reactions to her announcement.

Since her resignation as governor in 2009, Palin has become a powerful force in the conservative populist movement—first dubbed the Tea Party during the 2010 midterm elections. She has since served as a Fox News contributor, hosted several outdoor lifestyle shows on the Sportsman Channel, and written the memoir Going Rogue: An American Life, which spent six weeks on the New York Times bestseller list in 2009. She also endorsed former President Donald Trump’s run in 2016 before the first caucus primary votes were even cast.

Besides her son Trig, Palin said the rest of her children are now living all over the place. Eldest son Track, 32, is a father of three who still resides in Alaska. Bristol, 31, is now a mother of three and owns a real estate company in Texas. Willow, 28, and her husband, Ricky, are the parents of twins and welcomed their third child on March 30; they also recently moved to Texas. Piper, 21, is in college in Arizona. Palin herself lives in a home not far from her father, Chuck, in the suburbs of Wasilla, the fourth-largest city in Alaska, about 40 miles from Anchorage.

Meanwhile, Palin and her husband of more than 30 years, Todd, 57, quietly divorced in the spring of 2020. Palin said she found out in 2019 that her high school sweetheart—with whom she eloped in 1988—wanted out of the marriage via an email from an attorney.

The pain and shock of the divorce are still evident. “It was the most earth-shattering, bizarre thing I could have ever imagined and it kind of remains so,” she told me.

While they share custody of Trig, she said it’s the only connection remaining between them. “He spends his time with his girlfriend whom he’s had for some time now..,” she says as her voice trails off, adding, “She lives down in the lower 48, so he spends a lot of time down in the lower 48.”

Since the divorce, Palin said, she hadn’t even thought about dating again until this winter, when she went to New York for the defamation case she filed against the New York Times for falsely claiming in a 2017 op-ed that her political rhetoric led to a mass shooting.

She called up a longtime friend, retired New York Rangers star Ron Duguay, because she figured he knew New York well enough to be her Gotham fixer—and a romance suddenly took off.

She lights up when she talks about Duguay, who played with the Rangers from 1977 to 1983, saying she finds the relationship “safe and comfortable.”

“Ron is the first person that I’ve ever even talked to about a lot of this personal stuff. So, it’s been helpful and refreshing to have Ron to talk to about not just politics, because he’s got more common sense in his little finger than the collective in D.C., but just about life,” she said.

Good for her. I’ve liked Palin ever since I first heard of her during her days as governor, and I still do. In fact, she’s got a lot in common with Trump when you think about it: a populist, an outsider, as fanatically, rabidly hated by the GOPer/NeverTrumpTard ilk as she is by the Demonrat Left, and for some of the exact same reasons. Palin is about the only contemporary American politician I can think of offhand who’s been as relentlessly hounded, investigated, slandered, and just generally pecked-at by the hellhounds of Old Media as Trump himself has, another thing they have in common. Only that one, they both probably wish they didn’t.

As for Sarah’s fake-Right detractors, far from harming McCain in his doomed-from-the-start ’08 Prexy run against shitlib dreamboat Barry-Bob Hussein Obloobaloobo as they so like to whine, the only point at which McCain even so much as managed to pull even with Jugeared Jesus in the pre-election polling was right after Palin was announced as the Veep pick. The brief boost with which she gifted the universally-disliked asshole McMaverick lasted a few days, maybe a week or so, after which the sleazy RINO prick’s lizardly snout quickly sank right back beneath the surface of the Swamp muck, never to come anywhere near parity with Obongo again.

One thing that makes seeing the pseudo-Right reminded of that reality such a pleasure is that it’s so easy to see how much it annoys ’em. They, like the insufferable McCain, have never stopped blaming Palin for McStain’s inevitable defeat, a comforting lie which McLame clung to desperately until the frabjous day he finally joined the Choir Invisible. Blame Sarah! was an endlessly-running loop of bitter pissing and moaning which only served to underscore several of the many reasons Juanny Mav been so widely disliked for so many decades: his piss-poor character; his unrestrained egotism; his complete lack of any sense of loyalty to anyone or anything but himself and his own selfish interests.

So yeah, you go, Sarah. Nothing but the best to you from here, ol’ girl.

9

Call to arms

Kevin Downey has had it.

The Left Wants Us Dead. Stop Praying for Them, Start Buying Ammo for Self-Defense.
How can we beat a domestic enemy with hugs? We can’t. They want us dead, yet many conservatives and Republicans would rather turn the other cheek than curl up their fists and punch back.

When Chicago Mayor Lori Lightfoot isn’t busy ignoring the daily “festival of lead” that slaughters mostly black people in her city, she is calling for gay people to grab their guns.

The problem isn’t that the left likes to attack conservatives. We KNOW that. What we need to realize is that we can’t pray our way out of this violence, and apparently Antifa is too stupid to learn any lessons from Kyle Rittenhouse.

That’s because there was no follow-through in the wake of Rittenhouse’s heroic deeds, so why would the violent Left worry? To the eternal discredit of Our Side, their self-assurance has so far been eminently justified.

Now is a good time to tell you (and the FBI) that, unlike Mayor Lightfoot, I am NOT suggesting you shoot people. What I AM saying is we need a new plan, and that plan MIGHT involve punching a purple-haired freakshow in the face. We are dealing with toilet humans who have never been held responsible for their actions. Defend yourselves.

Any plan that does NOT involve “punching a purple-haired freakshow in the face” as an absolutely minimal opening gambit, escalation to follow forthwith, is a waste of fucking time. They’ve been allowed to get away with far more than they should’ve already; keep on with the self-restraint and forebearance and things will only get worse.

Though I am a “weapons guy,” I am not paid to say this. I’ve never even held a non-lethal Hero 2020 gun—though I hear it shoots exploding pepper balls at a rate of 100 mph. Ouch, that’s gotta smart. I can’t imagine how much that peppery goodness hurts the eyes and noses of genderless Antifa gals who believe kicking you into a coma is his/her/its RIGHT.

Nor can I. But it sure is a lot of fun to try, ain’t it? Okay, no more snide parenthetical asides from here on out, so’s y’all can take in the full impact of what he’s saying.

It’s time to scrape the communist barnacles off of our nation. We live in a country where leftist failures like Lightfoot can call for violence and not get punished. Hundreds of liberals are allowed to illegally protest outside of the homes of SCOTUS justices, but YOU will end up on an FBI domestic terrorist list if you dare attend a school board meeting and question the Marxists who are indoctrinating your kids.

For the last two years, we’ve seen BLM and Antifa pull innocent people from cars and pummel them in the name of blatant racism George Floyd and get away with it. We watched Kyle Rittenhouse go on trial for clearly defending himself against the brownshirts. Things are going to get worse before they get better.

I can’t be the only person who is sick of watching peaceful, patriotic Americans getting their heads smashed by the Democrats’ personal brownshirts, even though Biden claims they are a “myth.”

If you decide to carry a weapon to defend yourself, make sure it is legal where you live. The left is eager to send us to prison for as long as they can for any reason. Ask the peaceful J6 protestors who are rotting in federal jail.

And don’t count on the police to help you ward off Biden’s bolshies. Almost half of Antifa/BLM had their charges dropped after they violently gutted Portland. Some got arrested and returned to riot the same day.

The commie push is on. I just want the good guys to be ready. Defend yourselves. They want you dead.

That they do. They’ve certainly told us so enough times, explicitly and unequivocally. In fact, they’ve done a lot more than just that—they’ve already murdered scores of us, maybe hundreds, since 2020’s Summer O’ State-Sanctioned Leftist Violence got the whole shitshow underway. High time we started taking them at their word, I think, and give ’em some of their own back whenever they decide to dash out into the streets and start acting all frisky.

Kev’s pepper-spray-gun recommendation is a fine one, I think. I myself hugely enjoy the edifying thought of those purple-haired, nose-ringed, gender-befuddled rage junkies clawing furiously at their eyeballs, desperately trying to tear them from the sockets so as to make the ouchee go away. Weeping copiously; great ropey threads of snot, tears, and drool cascading over their double chins, down their necks, and up under their black 6X-Lg T-shirts. Blubbering and gibbering incoherently at what for most of them will be a completely new experience: being on the receiving end of some actual, meaningful, in-your-fucking-face resistance for once. All that good stuff, y’know?

So yeah, let the games begin, I say. Until it’s time for the shooting to commence, which I don’t think it is just yet although it’s almost here, let’s arm up with something non-lethal but still agony-inducing and get this party started, yo! None of us ought to be standing around with our thumb up our flue waiting for some semi-sentient commie pudhead to get the first lick in, either. I urge one and all to keep your nonlethal weapon of choice IN YOUR HAND, not tucked away in a pocket, at all times when in the presence of The Enemy, and to put said nonlethal weapon of choice to good use at the first intimation of aggression presented by your swinish foe.

As is Downey, I am beyond sick and tired of seeing yet another one of Ours hitting the ground in a fetal ball, helpless as a newborn kitten under a brutal gang-boot party instead of baring his fangs, standing his ground, and lighting into the Fascist filthbags with every potential instrument of mayhem he can lay hands on, giving Biden’s Brownshirts a serious dose of what-fer with blatant intent to inflict grievous bodily injury in full effect. All others of us in the vicinity who aren’t already similarly engaged themselves will be expected to wade in and lend a hand as well. The mere thought of standing idly by while a brother has his ribcage stove in for him by a pack of urban jackals cringing behind black bandanas and hoodies ought to damned well be anathema to us from now on, a shameful thing that just isn’t done.

The Hells Angels have a bylaw that’s as old as the M/C itself, which requires one hundred percent participation of all members present in any kind of fracas, brouhaha, or dustup in which a fellow Red & White is involved. The H/As ain’t known for losing very many of these all-out brawls, either, being wise in the ways of close-quarters physical combat. Our Side must emulate this thrice-worthy example.

When you think about it, it wasn’t all that long ago when providing assistance to someone being unfairly set upon by clearly dishonorable attackers was part of a Code of Manly Honor reverenced by every self-respecting specimen of true American manhood. That code is still a perfectly good one; it wasn’t because of anything wrong with the Code that it was cast aside by a more effete and pussified generation of “American” “men.” No, the flaw wasn’t in the Code, but in us.

We’d all be much the better off for it, both our individual selves and the society at large, by reinstating that Code now and striving to uphold it each and every day, teaching our sons to hew to it themselves when they come of age. Just doing that will bring us a long way towards restoring this disintegrating society—turning it from the dangerous, festering cesspool the Left has made of it back into the kind of place where decent, upstanding folk would be proud to live once more.

5

RIP Randy Weaver

One of the very worst of innumerable “FBI run amok” stories.

Randy Weaver has passed away. Three decades ago, he was entrapped by an ATF agent. Federal agents subsequently killed his son and wife. The Justice Department denied that anyone’s rights were violated but still paid a multi-million dollar settlement for the Weaver family’s wrongful death lawsuit. Federal abuses at Ruby Ridge, the subsequent FBI coverup, and the outrageous arguments that federal lawyers made in court to protect the FBI sniper helped awaken legions of Americans to the danger of boundless federal power.

On August 22, 1992,  FBI sniper Lon Horiuchi killed Vicki Weaver as she stood in the door of a cabin at Ruby Ridge, Idaho, holding her baby. The FBI initially claimed that killing Mrs. Weaver was justified and then later covered up key details and claimed it was accidental. FBI chief Louis Freeh pretended his agents had done nothing seriously wrong. After an Idaho prosecutor indicted Horiuchi for manslaughter, the Clinton administration Justice Department swayed a federal court to dismiss the case  based on the “supremacy clause” of the Constitution. But the Founding Fathers never intended for “federal supremacy” to nullify all of the Bill of Rights. Federal judge captured the soul of the case in a dissent that warned of the new  James Bond “007 standard for the use of deadly force” against American citizens. Kozinski summarized the case: “A group of FBI agents formulated rules of engagement that permitted their colleagues to hide in the bushes and gun down men who posed no immediate threat. Such wartime rules are patently unconstitutional for a police action.”

Though the FBI insisted its agents had behaved impeccably, the feds paid a $3 million wrongful death settlement to the Weaver family. A top FBI official was sent to prison for destroying key evidence in the case.

The FBI has become more powerful and more dangerous since Ruby Ridge.

It damned sure has at that, which is an abomination before God.

I’ve told the story here of meeting and hanging out with Weaver at the Knob Creek Machine Gun Shoot one year. He was friendly and personable enough, although it would be stretching things a good bit to say he was gregarious. In the middle of an enraptured group of shooters who considered him to be something of a martyr/hero combination and were hanging on his every word, Weaver seemed to know he was among friends at KCR. But he remained slightly guarded nonetheless.

I was struck by how easy it was to see the anguish in the poor man’s eyes over having federal thugs murder his entire family right before his very eyes, for no good reason at all. Weaver’s pain was etched deeply in him like a burning brand, a wound still as fresh and raw as if his personal nightmare at the hands of an irredeemably evil government had taken place only the day before, rather than several years.

Rest now, Randy. No flesh and blood man could see the things you’ve seen and walk away with soul and spirit unscarred. May the pain and horror be far removed from you, now and forevermore.

2

“The Insurgency Lesson of Michael Collins”

Turns out, he has much to teach us.

In 1916, while the Irish rebels were led to a near certain death after having been defeated during the Easter Rebellion, Michael Collins decided he would fight the world’s most powerful empire differently, if he ever got the chance. Michael Collins got that chance in 1918, and he fought differently. In fact, modern successful insurgencies are largely modeled on Collins’ strategic concept.

Collins recognized that the oppressive powers that had their boots on the necks of the Irish people enjoyed power over the economy, information (news papers at the time), police, military, and the courts. No one was going to fight the British and win using British strategies. The only way to win was to fight differently.

For the preceding six-plus decades, the Irish Republican Brotherhood built a parallel state within Ireland. This was necessary for two reasons: (1) if independence was achieved, an Irish managerial class and network needed to step in and manage Ireland; (2) in order for independence to be achieved, Irish rebels needed competent intelligence resources. Collins recognized the value of both and used them successfully. But how did Collins win Irish independence when sixteen prior attempts failed? The targeting of bureaucrats.

The Irish Flying Columns disrupted British rule in the countryside, but they never really landed a true killer blow. What they did achieve, however, was that each successful attack (A) shook confidence in British capacity among Irish locals and (B) invested the locals in asymmetric attrition warfare. Melting back into the farms was critical to Irish successes outside of Dublin. Meanwhile, simultaneously, Collins and his Squad (or Twelve Apostles) of hitmen targeted mid-level bureaucrats for assassination.

Collins, a former bureaucrat himself, understood that senior leaders in British bureaucracy were fairly useless political appointees – not unlike the United States today. Targeting them was useless. The middle managers were the true strength of the British Empire – collecting taxes, disseminating intelligence, feeding news sources, etc, etc. By killing them, Collins was eliminating functional British Rule.

More importantly, not only did each lost beaureaucrat take critical business continuity knowledge to the grave, junior bureaucrats feared promotion. Why accept the role of Deputy X, even with higher pay and prestige, if Deputy X keeps getting killed? This began to destroy British capacity in Ireland.

The insurgency lesson of Collins, therefore, was not to simply attack the teeth of the oppressor, but to dismantle the ability of the teeth to strike – by selectively targeting individual bureaucrats for elimination.

This is a pluperfect primer on how insurgents might remove the tyrant’s boot from off their necks, to which I have nothing to add.

(Via WRSA)

2

Dennis Hopper, American icon

Just so’s you know, I freely admit that I’m running this as an excuse to repost this most awesome Nicholson/Hopper duet from Easy Rider at the end.

I’ve always loved Dennis Hopper and found him to be a kindred spirit. He embodies American consciousness without a shred of sentimentality. We see in him a mixture of rebelliousness, sorrow, loss, and even grace. But more than anything, we see American restlessness. Although he is most known for his films, both as a director and actor, Hopper’s talent was also visible in his photography. After his career had a bit of a downturn in the 1960s, Hopper’s then-wife, Brooke Hayward, gave him a Nikon camera for his 25th birthday. 

Hopper’s photography oeuvre covers only the years 1961-1967, which is short chronologically speaking, but the creations that came out of restlessness transcend time. Hopper himself didn’t want to have anything to do with the pictures and put them away in a vault. “I was trying to forget…,” he said, “the photographs represented failure to me. A painful parting from [daughter] Marin and Brooke, my art collection, the house that I lived in and the life that I had known for those eight years.” Still, the photographs continue to live as artifacts of America’s past, separated from Hopper, the man, but bound to Hopper, the artist. His own view of their existence and status as photographs is almost irrelevant because of our gaze into the world he has recorded.

Hopper’s photographs, particularly in this collection, In Dreams, are a window into the soul of America during the 1960s. We see street scenes of Los Angeles: people frozen in time, sitting, standing up, looking into the distance of their own lives, or just staring at the passing dog. We see a close up of hands writing; jazz musicians in a smokey club; streets in rearview mirrors offering both a reality and an illusion of our strange world; George Segal and Sandy Dennis in 1965, a year before the release of Mike Nichols’ adaptation of Edward Albee’s 1962 play, “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?,” standing among the broken nude statues, embodying innocence not unlike their characters, Nick and Honey, in Nichols’ film.

We see Brooke Hayward in a grocery store, pushing a cart somewhat sadly, lost in her secret thoughts; a couple in a kissing booth; a girl in a rearview mirror driving to God knows where (a job? Seeing a friend? Or is she running away?); a cocktail party where a kiss between a man and woman appears seemingly from nowhere (Are they strangers? Friends? Lovers?).

We see the filming of Henry Hathaway’s 1965 western, “The Sons of Katie Elder.” Hopper does not discriminate and sees everyone as a human being, not in their respective societal or film roles. Hathaway and John Wayne are in the middle of a scene with Wayne pointing at something out of frame. There is a calmness, steadiness, and stability, but also the bubbling of creativity. I am drawn to these images precisely because they point to a time and a place when even the possibility of steadiness and masculinity was present in the culture. Things are getting done and life keeps moving forward.

In the collection, there are even self-portraits, in which we see Hopper’s need to be seen, a rebellious streak, and over the top self-importance. But there is also a certain sensitivity that only comes from someone who has the soul of an artist. They are the most dreamy of all. Is this how Hopper saw himself at the time? He is hovering like a ghost of America past and present. 

On one occasion, Hopper’s daughter Marin, reflected: “My father, Dennis Hopper, believed that being on the road in search of something was very American. You had to keep moving forward no matter what. Ride into town, gunfight at high noon, then off into the sunset.” Hopper represented—and even in his death, represents—not simply the one American dream, whatever it may have been or whatever shred of it is present now. Rather, he represents American dreams—lives lived on the photographic paper, on the celluloid, and in the American desert of desires. 

Okay, I take it back; the article is good enough to serve as its own justification, no excuses required for running it. Same-same with the vid, actually.



Update! So the whole Hopper trip got me to rooting around here and there, which eventually landed me on this incredible site covering all things Easy Rider. Captain America and Billy’s route to Mardi Gras is mapped out, literally; the entire movie is posted; there are then-and-now pics of some of the locations where scenes from the movie were shot, among other way-cool stuff. No foolin’, gang, this is one hella-awesome website for any Easy Rider fan.

2

BREAKING: DeSantis right again!!!

No news there, really; he almost always is.

Ron DeSantis: Requiring Permits for Concealed Carry is ‘Subcontracting Your Rights’
Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis (R) is warning that requiring a permit for concealed carry subcontracts out constitutional rights to the whims of the person approving permit applications.

News4Jax noted that DeSantis described the concealed permitting process on Tuesday as a “licensing scheme” run by people who can take away your license if they so choose. The Governor made clear he wants to replace the permitting system with a constitutional carry framework.

Precisely so. As I always say: any time you must apply to the government for official permission and a license to exercise something you’ve deceived yourself into thinking of as a “right,” what you actually have is by definition not a right, but a privilege.

Agriculture Commissioner Nikki Fried is the individual who oversees concealed permitting in Florida. She is also a Democrat candidate for governor in the state. Fried responded to DeSantis by calling the push for constitutional carry “absurd political pandering from the governor of a state that has experienced some of the worst mass shootings in our country’s history.”

DeSantis also spoke about concealed permitting over the weekend, alluding to “the official in charge of these permits” but not calling out Fried by name.

The NRA quoted DeSantis saying “the official in charge of these permits doesn’t support Second Amendment rights.”

Right again, Ron, and it’s high time somebody found the intestinal fortitude to point it out, obvious as it is to some of us. The truth is, NO Demonrat supports the private ownership of firearms, contra whatever brazen lies they feel they must puke up during “election” season. Reflexive opposition to what the plainspoken, easily-understood language of the 2A says is a core prerequisite for acceptance as a Democrat Party candidate for elective office, any breach of which is grounds for immediate and summary expulsion.

2

The New New Right

Bret Stephens—stale, stuffy, irrelevant, and insufferable as is typical of his type—asks (and answers) the most meaningless question I can think of right offhand.

What is conservative?” columnist Bret Stephens asked in Tuesday’s New York Times.

Who the fuck cares? Also: who the fuck thinks there could ever be a worthwhile answer to be found in, of all places, the NYT, ferchrissakes?

“It is,” he posits, “above all, the conviction that abrupt and profound changes to established laws and common expectations are utterly destructive to respect for the law and the institutions established to uphold it — especially when those changes are instigatedgggggzzzzzzxxxsknxxxxzzzz…”

Night-night, sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs etc.

Stephens was responding to the broad conservative and Christian excitement that America’s extreme abortion regime might finally be struck down by the Supreme Court; but Stephens might as well have been writing about J.D. Vance’s hard-fought Tuesday night victory in Ohio’s Republican primary. Or Blake Master’s primary race to represent Arizona. Or Tucker Carlson’s intellectual ascendancy. Or the rise of a young and invigorated American New Right.

Stephens is wrong, of course. Conservatism isn’t remotely about process: It’s about traditional wisdom and values; it’s about conserving things of generational, transcendent value.

It means understanding that man is fallen, and society must protect families, workers, traditions, and, yes, the unborn from being wiped aside; oppressed from above.

It means conserving the truth — the truth about men and women, the truth about the unborn, the truth about human equality, and the necessary limits on government power.

That’s not to say there isn’t still an important place for process: In a civilization governed by prudent and benevolent institutions that buttress and strengthen traditional wisdom and values, process protects those cherished things from rapid change.

In a world governed by imprudent and vindictive institutions, however, that claw, gnash, and tear at traditional wisdom — that usurp traditional values — the “process” merely fools us into believing that what these institutions are doing is normal, when in reality it is profoundly abnormal.

I can’t honestly say I care all that deeply about “conservatism” anymore, if I ever truly did. What I DO care about is America as the Founders envisioned it. I care about the values codified in their Constitution, which I do believe remains far and away the most brilliant, visionary, and timeless document on what does and does not constitute a legitimate government of, by, and for a free people, along with the Declaration, the Federalist Papers, and the correspondence shared between several of the key figures most responsible for creating them.

I care about the fact that those men, those precious and incomparable documents, and the government they bequeathed to us have all for many decades been under relentless assault by vermin unfit to clean the privy stall of giants among men like, say, Washington, Jefferson or Adams with their own tongues. I care that these vermin have succeeded so wildly at besmirching so much that was good in the world, bringing Virtue to Her knees in the muck and mire. I care about stopping these vermin. I care about ridding this land of them, as near to permanently as may be. I care about punishing them, by the harshest and most extreme measures imaginable, pour encourager les autres.

I like JD Vance, and I do not give a tinker’s damn whether Bret Stephens and the rest of his ivory-tower ilk thinks he’s a “conservative” or not.

He’s a man who doesn’t “care if Google is a private company, because they have too much power; and if you want to have a country where people can live their lives freely, you have to be concerned about power — whether it’s concentrated in the government or concentrated in big corporations.”

He thinks our corporate overlords would happily satiate us with whirling gizmos and gadgets while capturing our culture and selling us out to China. This places him directly at odds with tired, established Republicanism, which would prefer to slander the ghost of Ronald Reagan while they simp for corporations that work to undermine our national economy, our traditions, our families, and even our children’s sexuality.

Vance is also a man who doesn’t “really care what happens to Ukraine one way or another,” and thinks “it’s ridiculous that we are focused on” their border over our own.

Far more than Ukraine, he cares “about the fact that in [his] community right now, the leading cause of death among 18- to 45-year-olds is Mexican fentanyl.” This places him directly at odds with all of established Washington, where $5 billion for our country’s border security is too much to ask, but politicians crow about sending six times that amount to defend the sacred territorial integrity of another’s.

Vance is a man who thinks, “If any of us want to do the things that we want to do for our country and for the people who live in it, we have to honestly and aggressively attack the universities in this country.”

“So much of what we want to accomplish,” he recognizes, is “…fundamentally dependent on going through a set of very hostile institutions, specifically the universities, which control the knowledge in our society, which control what we call truth and what we call falsity, that provides research that gives credibility to some of the most ridiculous ideas that exist in our country.”

This once again places him directly at odds with Washington, which every years sends billions in federal aid to colleges and universities, with nary a whimper of a fight.

More broadly, “Vance,” Harpers editor James Pogue writes, “believes that a well-educated and culturally liberal American elite has greatly benefited from globalization, the financialization of our economy, and the growing power of big tech.”

“This,” he continues, “has led an Ivy League intellectual and management class…to adopt a set of economic and cultural interests that directly oppose those of people in places like Middletown, Ohio, where he grew up.”

In other words, Vance knows what time it is.

It’s an excellent piece; you’ll want to read all of it, I assure you.

2

UNPOSSIBLE!

I have been assured by all the best people that this never happens. It’s all a damnable lie, spread by reich-wing Christian Nazi white suoremacist extremist MAGA insurrectionists who hope to destroy the lives of gay people, and ruin our sacred democracy also.

New York group busts TV news anchor allegedly trying to meet underage boy for sex
When confronted by the filming crew, Wheeler initially attempts to deny the accusations

Can’t blame the filthy pedo for that subhed, it’s exactly what I’d do myself. Hell, who wouldn’t?

A New York group that exposes child-sex predators online busted what appears to be a local TV anchor who was allegedly at the scene to meet with what he thought was a 15-year-old boy.

The group, which goes by 607 Predator Hunters, posted a video to YouTube that appears to show Zach Wheeler, an anchor at NBC affiliate WETM-TV, at a store in an attempt to meet with the underaged boy.

This fine organization is truly doing the Lord’s work. May He watch over and protect them all for their courage, their righteousness, and their willingness to take direct, effective action on their own, rather than sitting back, eyes wide shut, and assuming the cops will take care of predators like this depraved freak. HINT TO THE GORMLESS: They won’t.

When confronted by the filming crew, Wheeler initially attempts to deny that he was at the location to meet or have sex with the teenager, instead insisting multiple times he was only there to “talk” to the kid and warn him to get “off of these apps.”

But when the group doesn’t appear to buy Wheeler’s excuse, he pivots to a more combative tone.

“Why do you guys do this to gay and lesbian people,” he asks, with the group insisting they attempt to catch all pedophiles.


They do NOT “do this” to inoffensive gays and/or lesbians who have done nothing wrong or illegal. Only mentally disturbed, repulsive crawly things like, say, yourself. Get yourself and your abnormal sexual obssession under control; stop arranging play dates with pliable, perpetually horny jailbait who are disturbed enough themselves to be susceptible to the manipulations and self-serving wheedling of sick pedo fucks.

Bottom line: any individual who is so immature and dysfunctional he’s been left incapable of—perhaps even entirely uninterested in—sustaining a healthy, enriching romantic relationship with another likewise mentally-stable adult, homo or hetero, who can offer the properly-informed consent to said relationship, has a moral obligation not just to himself and his partner but to society itself to just stay the hell home and watch Netflix. If that sounds too harsh and uncaring to some of you, well, hey, I don’t give a fuck. Sorry, not sorry. I am bereft of fucks. I have precisely ZERO fucks to give, as can be readily discerned from my GAF-ometer.

In the negative

One more look at a non-analog, more modern-type indicator just to make sure.

Modern alternative

And there we have it. To no one’s surprise, our whining kinkster continues his woebegone attempts to defend the indefensible.

“Are you guys here to ruin people’s lives,” Wheeler asks at another point, noting that the group was going to “ruin my whole entire life” and he is “going to lose my job and everything.” At another point, Wheeler argues that the group is engaging in “cancel culture” because of his job.

Funny as that is, better get ready to laugh yourself sick over this feculent worm’s final desperate try at wriggling off the hook.

The group then confronts him with the chat logs of his conversation with the boy, which at times contain sexually explicit messages.

Wheeler then asks the group if they “need money” and also offers to help them get their organization on TV.

Niiice. Final score? This Wheeler bitch has taken us from ludicrously implausible claims that he’d arrived at the hookup location without hinky intentions; to the completely preposterous contention that his TRUE objective was to warn his underaged boy-toy about the dire perils of the same apps that this instant mentor had installed on his own phone and had recently used to arrange the day’s tryst; to theatrical outrage and self-righteous accusations of anti-gay bigotry; all the way to fumbling attempts at naked bribery—first in the traditional cash-money-up-front fashion, then, when even that ad-libbed gambit had flopped like all the others before it had, we get an exhausted, vanity-based promise that he would use his negligible celebrity to cut a little tit-for-tat deal, if only the Predator Hunters would forget all about what he’d done.

Surely the practically nonexistent possibility that the humiliation and terror of being caught with his whistle in his hand might compel the onanistic fool to abandon his wicked, wicked ways, which delusional bargain must then earn for itself the right to be thought of as a fair and eminently satisfactory exchange for the gift of a fleeting moment of fame and glory? In the words of his brothers-in-sleaze back in Hollywood’s infamous casting-couch days, “I’ll make you a star!”

Of course, forgetting Chubbsy-Ubbsie’s thwarted attempt at a private round of the beloved Where’s The Pickle? game wouldn’t be the only thing the Hunters would have to forget. There’s also trivial items such as their core values; their integrity; their self-respect; their committment to an honorable and needful mission they’d sworn themselves to; their estimation of their own personal worth—all this and more still to be scoured from all recollection. Of course, having erased all such silly, stifling notions from his own memory long ago, it would have to be difficult if not impossible for the fat toad Wheeler to comprehend any unwillingness on the part of his tormentors to just do the same for him now so as to justify letting him slide unmolested, shall we say—a soul-blighting favor they have no desire whatever to grant to a malefactor they don’t know, admire, or like. A twisted creature to whom they owe not the first iota of pity, charity, compassion, or forebearance. A favor that will haunt them for the rest of their lives.

The overdue exposure of this pitiful pudhead’s dirt-cheap depredations, in concert with the steadily-escalating clownish efforts to escape from the hole this dumbass had dug for himself—efforts which only planted him even deeper—is abolutely hilarious to me. It’s become a rare and wonderful thing these days to see an irredeemable filthbag like our Loser Lothario here finally get his just deserts. You can be sure I’ll be watching carefully for the conclusion of this sordid tale. The wheels of justice are already turning: the TV station has quietly suspended him, and removed his bio from the “Meet The Team” section of the WETM website.

Many kudos and congrats to the intrepid 607 Predator Hunters crew on this smashing success. You guys have rolled up your Civvy-Street sleeves and taken up a dirty, difficult, but extremely critical mission, a job nobody else would accept—not even the local police department, who are the ones officially charged with it as an integral part of their job description. 5-0 preferred instead to shirk their clear duty, to their everlasting disgrace—an ignoble act of cowardice and treachery they should all be fired for. In welcome contrast to those lousy bums, you Hunters are doing what so badly needed to be done, manfully taking upon yourselves the burden of some very real risk for the benefit of your families, your neighbors, and your communities.

You are exactly the kind of no-bullshit, stout-hearted, git ‘er done individuals this battered and bruised nation will always and forever need more of. Yours is the heart of the lion, the stubborn tenacity of the wolfpack, and the proud soul of the Minuteman. The true warrior spirit lives on within your breast, never to be quenched, weakened, or tainted by dishonor or corruption. May God continue to bless your noble efforts, and may the number of your fellow Americans who will draw encouragement, inspiration, and motivation from the shining example you’ve set for them be both enormous and continually rising.

10

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