Train kept a-rollin’

Yep, still loving the guy over here.

Florida Governor Ron DeSantis Signs Anti-Riot Bill Which Also Includes Civil Immunity For Drivers Who Hit Road-Blocking Protestors
Earlier Monday Florida Governor Ron DeSantis signed HB1, a new bill from the Florida legislature that establishes new criminal definitions under the anti-riot law. The House and Senate worked on the legislation for a year after Governor Ron DeSantis led the initial effort.

[HB1] “defines a “riot” as a public disturbance involving three or more people “acting with the common intent to assist each other in violent and disorderly conduct” that results in injury to another person, damage to property, or danger of injury or damage.

The law grants civil immunity to people who drive into protesters who are blocking a road, prevents people accused of rioting from bailing out of jail until after their first court appearance, and increases penalties for assaulting law-enforcement officers while engaging in a “riot.” It also penalizes local governments that interfere with efforts to stop a riot and allows law-enforcement agencies that face funding reductions to file objections.” 

The anti-riot law titled “Combating Public Disorder,” creates a new crime of “mob intimidation,” enhance penalties for riot-related looting and violence and create an affirmative defense for individuals who injure or kill violent protesters. Polk County Sheriff Grady Judge spoke at the signing.

No, America’s Governor™ can’t save us anymore than Trump could. But it sure is fun watching the man work.

Sundry useful info

First off, I should mention my own Gab addy, even though I don’t post much there; frankly, I haven’t even spent enough time in the joint to know all the ins and outs of how the thing works. But for whatever it might be worth, here I is. From there, we hop over to the Sooper Seekrit FlammenWurfer Klub, which is basically the hangout for former commenters and other friends/fans of the hallowed Western Rifle Shooters Association websty, with which you will no doubt be acquainted. And from there, we move right along to this, posted by SooperSekrit member ZeroGov, whose name is also a familiar one.

Gentlemen, the root cause of all totalitarian movements is a lust for power over other human beings in commanding their lives and extracting their labor. A proximate cause that enables this is fear and obedience on the part of the potential serfs who must have their willingness to obey reinforced and their willingness not to comply erased.

If we accept these premises, we start to understand why woketopia is the asymmetric employment of collective stereotyping to set sub-groups against one another so they lose sight of the root cause that informs their submission.

The collectivists need two vital elements to set this in motion and maintain the swirl: a talking and reading culture that does not tolerate any moral and intellectual dissent from a monochromatic communist world-view and a vast informant culture that eventually becomes a self-perpetuating blame and grievance machine that runs under its own power.

Not to mention that since their positions are wholesale and in detail morally and intellectually indefensible they must shout down and shut down opposing voices.

That is what you are seeing around you today and why…

But there will be outliers on the bell curve who will fight either overtly or covertly and while the story of totalitarianism is that all the systems die in the end, the decades of misery and agony are suffered by hundreds of millions.

What gift will you give your children?

Discuss or prove me wrong.

Buppert’s post then garners a response.

There isn’t a proving you wrong. We as a country/culture are at an impasse. There isn’t reconciliation. What does it matter to assign blame or discuss ad nauseum. This is a divorce of cultures. Yet it isn’t just America, those across the planet who enjoyed a wee flavor of our freedoms, envied our world, are now becoming enslaved more by the day. England looks like the movie Brazil, a sci fi dystopian future of government over reach.

“dont suspect a friend, report him”

Fear is weaponized against everyone so that many act in fear. Yet it is not fear that motivates those calling themselves patriots, no, when it was time to be afraid no one listened. Now its a resignation. I’ve been divorced. I’ve seen that lifeless cold countenance directed at me from the one I so loved, would have died for. One in whom I invested immeasurable effort and sacrifice. One in whose eyes I saw a thousand sunsets. I saw that countenance and resigned. There was no hope, no future, no reconciliation. That in my opinion would be the mature patriot.

Resignation from the order of things citing irreconcilable differences.

What gift will I give my children? Freedom.

His lips, God’s ears. If you ain’t on Gab yourself yet, go sign up, follow Tommygunmike’s worthless ass, then join the SSFK group. You’ll be glad you did it, on at least two of those suggestions anyway.

Is the Woke worm turning?

I’m skeptical, but then again this is NYeffingC we’re talking about here, dumbfuck Progtardism’s Ground Zero—one of these guys is even a TEACHER, ferchrissakes—so I could be wrong.

For three days, I’ve had sitting on my virtual spindle a post that Bari Weiss, formerly of the New York Times, posted on her Substack page. It’s entitled “I Refuse to Stand by while My Students Are Indoctrinated.” The author isn’t Weiss but is, instead, Paul Rossi, a math teacher at Grace Church High School in Manhattan (annual tuition: $57,330). On Friday, Weiss added another open letter, this from Andrew Gutmann, a parent who had just pulled his daughter out of Brearley, another expensive private school (annual tuition: $54,000). Both are horrifying exposés of and attacks against the woke culture saturating these institutions.

Both letters are long and don’t yield easily to a brief summary. I’ll quote a few select paragraphs from each, but you must read them to get the full flavor of the Maoist madness at these institutions.

A little taste of Rossi’s toothsome missive:

I know that by attaching my name to this I’m risking not only my current job but my career as an educator, since most schools, both public and private, are now captive to this backward ideology. But witnessing the harmful impact it has on children, I can’t stay silent.

Recently, I raised questions about this ideology at a mandatory, whites-only student and faculty Zoom meeting. (Such racially segregated sessions are now commonplace at my school.) It was a bait-and-switch “self-care” seminar that labelled “objectivity,” “individualism,” “fear of open conflict,” and even “a right to comfort” as characteristics of white supremacy. I doubted that these human attributes — many of them virtues reframed as vices — should be racialized in this way. In the Zoom chat, I also questioned whether one must define oneself in terms of a racial identity at all. My goal was to model for students that they should feel safe to question ideological assertions if they felt moved to do so.

It seemed like my questions broke the ice. Students and even a few teachers offered a broad range of questions and observations. Many students said it was a more productive and substantive discussion than they expected.

However, when my questions were shared outside this forum, violating the school norm of confidentiality, I was informed by the head of the high school that my philosophical challenges had caused “harm” to students, given that these topics were “life and death matters, about people’s flesh and blood and bone.” I was reprimanded for “acting like an independent agent of a set of principles or ideas or beliefs.” And I was told that by doing so, I failed to serve the “greater good and the higher truth.”

He further informed me that I had created “dissonance for vulnerable and unformed thinkers” and “neurological disturbance in students’ beings and systems.” The school’s director of studies added that my remarks could even constitute harassment.

A few days later, the head of school ordered all high school advisors to read a public reprimand of my conduct out loud to every student in the school. It was a surreal experience, walking the halls alone and hearing the words emitting from each classroom: “Events from last week compel us to underscore some aspects of our mission and share some thoughts about our community,” the statement began. “At independent schools, with their history of predominantly white populations, racism colludes with other forms of bias (sexism, classism, ableism and so much more) to undermine our stated ideals, and we must work hard to undo this history.”

Sounds as if this school indoctrination center is re-enacting one of Chairman Mao’s infamous Struggle Sessions, don’t it? No surprise there, though: our homegrown Leftist brainwashers, their CCP antecedents, and their contemporary ideological brethren are all operating out of the self-same playbook. Rossi’s damning broadside is disturbing, to be sure. But Gutmann’s urgent letter to his fellow parents is “if anything, even more horrifying,” as the esteemed Ms Widburg says. A wee dram of it:

Dear Fellow Brearley Parents,

Our family recently made the decision not to reenroll our daughter at Brearley for the 2021-22 school year. She has been at Brearley for seven years, beginning in kindergarten. In short, we no longer believe that Brearley’s administration and Board of Trustees have any of our children’s best interests at heart. Moreover, we no longer have confidence that our daughter will receive the quality of education necessary to further her development into a critically thinking, responsible, enlightened, and civic minded adult. I write to you, as a fellow parent, to share our reasons for leaving the Brearley community but also to urge you to act before the damage to the school, to its community, and to your own child’s education is irreparable.

It cannot be stated strongly enough that Brearley’s obsession with race must stop. It should be abundantly clear to any thinking parent that Brearley has completely lost its way. The administration and the Board of Trustees have displayed a cowardly and appalling lack of leadership by appeasing an anti-intellectual, illiberal mob, and then allowing the school to be captured by that same mob. What follows are my own personal views on Brearley’s antiracism initiatives, but these are just a handful of the criticisms that I know other parents have expressed.

I object to a definition of systemic racism, apparently supported by Brearley, that any educational, professional, or societal outcome where Blacks are underrepresented is prima facie evidence of the aforementioned systemic racism, or of white supremacy and oppression. Facile and unsupported beliefs such as these are the polar opposite to the intellectual and scientific truth for which Brearley claims to stand. Furthermore, I call bullshit on Brearley’s oft-stated assertion that the school welcomes and encourages the truly difficult and uncomfortable conversations regarding race and the roots of racial discrepancies.

Plenty more to both of these letters of protest, every word of which you should read. Widburg’s heartening conclusion:

A couple of years ago, ensconced in a Senate chamber in which almost half of the senators and all the national media agreed with him, and lying about violating Senate rules, Sen. Cory Booker made the ridiculous claim that he was having his “I am Spartacus moment.”

In fact, what we’re seeing from Rossi and Gutmann, in the belly of the beast that is true-blue New York, should be the start of a true Spartacus moment. We must join together to defeat the racist Critical Race Theory and other maddened toxins oozing from leftists.

Indeed we must. The sad fact remains, though, that while these letters are a good, and unexpected, first step—particularly considering that the protests were lodged from the very belly of the Progressivist beast—even the most astringent of words will never be enough to excise this deadly cancer from the body politic. If we truly hope to heal, a big dose of some much harsher medicine is the one and only cure for what ails us.

What goes around comes around

Or: Karma is a brass-plated bitch.

Maricopa woman finds tires slashed and a severed finger in her driveway

Right off the bat, you know this is gonna be good.

A couple in Maricopa woke up to their tires slashed and a severed finger in the driveway on Thursday morning.

“I literally have been laughing all day because if I don’t, I might cry,” said Francesca Wikoff.

I confess, I’m already giggling a bit over here myself.

The truck belongs to the Wikoff family. Wikoff, a former volunteer firefighter and EMT, has the stomach for this sort of thing. “It’s pretty comical. You would think that if you’re gonna go to the hospital, especially if you just severed your finger off, that you would take said finger with you,” said Wikoff.

Wikoff believes the tire slasher cut her back tire then cut his finger off on accident. “We assume it happened at 10:30 last night because we had our neighbor that lives next to him heard a loud scream and then a car speeding off,” said Wikoff.

The Maricopa mother believes the finger belongs to her neighbor because they argued with him the night before and a trail of blood leads to his house.

“Pretty comical” doesn’t even BEGIN to cover it, Miz W. Be sure to click on over for her closing quip, which is a doozy.

Good reads

Pete gives us a steer to this book recommendation from DTG:

If you haven’t read James Tarr’s, “Dog Soldiers,” you would do yourself a solid in doing so. Very entertaining and instructive, especially for anyone who doesn’t have a really good idea what ‘Military Operations on Urbanized Terrain’ (MOUT) is about.

Anyway, get this and read it. You’ll be glad you did.

As it happens, I read Dog Soldiers myself not long ago as one of my Kindle Unlimited lending-library choices, and he’s right, it’s a good ‘un. In fact, after devouring DS, I then proceeded to work my way through Tarr’s entire ouvre, all of which I thoroughly enjoyed.

Which brings me to a recommendation of my own: DJ Molles’ Lee Harden series, a five-parter set in Molles’ The Remaining Universe, which I’ll be wading into once I find out how things wind up for good ol’ Lee Harden. I’ve read a crap-ton of what they call PAW (Post Apocalypse World) fiction, and Molles is a real standout in a genre that can be somewhat of a mixed bag as far as the writing itself goes. There’s some really well-written stuff therein, and then again there’s some pretty unreadable dreck to be found also. Molles’ characters are more complex, human, and relatable than a lot of what you run across in lesser PAW fiction, where one-dimensional, ho-hum cliches and/or comic-book superhero-level juvenilia are all too common. Molles’ story arcs are clever, his dialogue fluid and credible, the combat sequences gripping, with the right balance of weapons-system geekery, tactical/strategic/political analysis, character-relationship development, and dramatic tension maintained throughout.

One aspect of PAW fiction that both baffles and exasperates me is the preponderance of sloppy editing. Even books that I otherwise loved, by skilled and well-known authors and respectable publishers, have nonetheless been marred by spelling, grammar, and/or punctuation issues to one degree or another. Of course, poor editing is one of those things that, to repurpose a Biblical phrase, ye will have with ye always, and is by no means exclusively or even predominantly a PAW thang. No matter where you run across it, though, if it’s bad enough it can suck your head right out of the story, which is but a very short hop to just dumping the book altogether for something more competently crafted. It really makes you scratch your head in mystification at how the hell some of these editors ever managed to con their way into the job, and why they bother soldiering on in the field when clearly they could be in politics, where the opportunities for much more remunerative forms of graft are so plentiful.

Alas, the scourge of bad editing rears its ugly head in both Dog Soldiers and the Harden books alike, albeit to a much lesser extent in DS if I remember right. It’s bearable in both, thankfully, amounting to nothing worse than a minor distraction, although there was a certain adjustment period with the first Harden book that I had to make it past before I could really sink my teeth into the thing and enjoy myself. This is all strictly a matter of opinion, so naturally your mileage may vary. However it all works out for ya, I heartily endorse DTG’s recommendation, with great big bells on.

God made Texas so that…

Feel free to complete that dusty old meme any way you like. I’ve had the Republic on the brain all day, ever since seeing last night’s Texas-sized AoSHQ-ONT when I got up this morning. My pick for Best Of Show:

Apparently, I’m far from alone in being in a Texas state of mind today.

According to woke Texas State Historical Association chief historian Walter Buenger, the Alamo is a symbol of “white supremacy.” Some might like for it to be that, but they are a fringe on the left and right extremes, and the facts keep getting in their way. It’s today’s woke history that’s oversimplified and racist. History is as complex as life itself.

Buenger is not a Texas Revolution historian and may not have heard of the Tejanos who died at the Alamo fighting against dictator Santa Anna, his betrayal of the Federalists, his abrogation of the 1824 Constitution, his 1835 proclamation branding those Federalists “pirates” if they lifted a finger to oppose him as he sought to disarm them, or the several other Mexican states besides Texas that rebelled against the hated dictator during the same timeframe. Those facts’ existence violates the revisionist narrative that wokes seek to create regarding the battle that was the crescendo of the Texas Revolution. The life-and-death decisions made by some Tejanos also get in the wokes’ way.

One of those Tejanos was Jose Toribio Losoya. Losoya faced a choice that changed the course of his life and his place in history. He was not alone in that choice. As historian Dr. Jody Edward Ginn has pointed out, Tejanos — native-born Texans of Mexican heritage — in 1835-36 were statistically slightly more likely to fight for Texas’ independence than were the Anglos Buenger and other woke historians claim were fighting for white supremacy and slavery.

Those Tejanos and Texians fought side-by-side as brothers. They had intermarried families. Shared neighborhoods and towns. A shared fate. 

Losoya bears two distinctions. The first is that he was a Tejano, not Anglo or American as were many of the famous revolutionaries such as Sam Houston (who would later find himself deposed as governor for opposing secession from the Union). The second is that Losoya was not only born in Texas, he was born in the Alamo itself when it was a neighborhood and Spanish military outpost. He was born there and grew up there in a little house on the compound’s southwest corner. 

Losoya was born during an age of revolution. Texas itself had already tried rebellion in 1813. When Losoya was a boy, Mexico rebelled and broke away from Spain. That was in 1821.

When he was a man, Texas rebelled and broke away from Santa Anna’s Mexico.

Losoya faced a choice then: remain with Mexico, which appeared to be the far stronger military power and in whose military he served, or fight for Texas in its rag-tag, mostly disorganized militia.

Losoya chose the latter.

No surprise there. I mean, what true Texan—and that’s what Losoya, a straightup–no-chaser-190-proof boney feeday national hero, most certainly was—wouldn’t? Whether you hail from Texas or only wish you did, you definitely want to read all of this one, folks. Shitlib Leftwits like this Buengwad queef can have the Alamo, Texas, and our glorious American history and heritage when they pry it from our cold, dead fingers. The more we’re reminded of our indomitable forebears and their courage and derring-do, the better off everybody will be in the long run. Think of such reminders as a curative, spine-stiffening tonic for the betterment of our national health.

Some SCIENCE!™ you can believe in

Another one of those too-long-open-tab items, so I can’t recall who I should offer credit for it. But I’m confident you’ll agree it was worth the delay.

AN FAQ ABOUT YOUR NEW BIRTH CONTROL: THE MUSIC OF RUSH

What’s in it?
Every woman deserves to know exactly what’s in her birth control. Rush is a Canadian progressive rock power trio whose golden era is generally considered to be from 1975 to 1982. Thankfully, for your long-term family planning strategy, the band has an extensive discography that spans from 1974 to 2012.

The music of Rush is marked by erratic signature changes, unconventional chord structures, heavy use of synthesizers and electronic effects, and, most importantly, lead vocals that sound like an ancient witch is being exorcised out of your body with live wires. In less clinical terms, imagine taking the most annoying parts of science fiction and Libertarianism, isolating them, and then somehow blending them up into a cursed musical slurry. Then, infuse that slurry with a distinctive incel vibe, and presto! You’ve got one of the most powerful contraception options on the market.

How effective is it?
No one has ever gotten pregnant while listening to the music of Rush. Clinical studies show that when combined with watching a male sexual partner play air bass along to the extended solo in “Freewill,” the contraceptive efficacy of Rush approaches 100%.

Will I experience any discomfort?
Yes.

How does it work?
The music of Rush is a tri-modal contraceptive, meaning it acts on three biological systems — endocrine, reproductive, and psychological. Together, this system is known as “Surge, Purge, and Loss of Urge.”

Surge: When a woman hears the ill-considered, stereotypical East-Asian riff at the beginning of “A Passage to Bangkok,” her pituitary gland floods the system with the hormone disgustagen. You’re familiar with this naturally-occurring hormone as it’s released by your body when your male colleague tells you to smile or when someone says, “You’re cute when you’re angry.” This makes Rush a safe, natural alternative to copper IUDs.

Purge: The purge phase begins when the vocals kick in. You’ll think you’re hearing jaws of life prying open a metal car door after a devastating accident. This is actually the testicles-in-a-vise banshee wail of vocalist and bassist Geddy Lee. His countertenor falsetto, combined with the surge of disgustagen, work in concert to trigger a panic response in the ovaries. Your reproductive system intuitively knows that it should not bring a child into a world that would reward this music with success. The ovaries will start tossing eggs overboard like they’re bailing out water from a sinking canoe.

Loss of Urge: The first two contraceptive phases of the music of Rush work synergistically with Loss of Urge, your most reliable tool in pregnancy prevention. About 30 seconds into the melodic meandering and feral-cat-being-threatened-by-a-raccoon vocals, a woman will experience a complete and total shut down of her sex drive. At this point, her legs will snap shut with the spring tension of a bear trap, making intercourse all but impossible.

Are there any side effects?
Common side effects include:

  • Skin crawling
  • Jaw clenching
  • Shuddering
  • Loss of social status
  • Embarrassment

Some women report feeling incredibly uncool. You may develop medium-to-severe irritation when your male sexual partner gives an impassioned ten-minute speech on how Neil Peart was the greatest percussionist in human history.

You have many options when it comes to birth control. Ask your doctor if the music of Rush is right for you.

Heh. If you ask me, the “music” of Rush isn’t right for anybody.

A trifle too satanic?

Or demonic, if you want to be kind about it.

Joe Biden’s party must be thinking — if you call it thinking — that being psychotic isn’t enough… it’s time to go demonic! How else to explain the supernatural doings of the folks in charge of things in our nation’s capital. The casual observer might suppose that these things are spinning out of control, but you also have to wonder how much Joe Biden & Company are spinning them that way. Are they looking to start a war, for instance?

Three weeks ago, Ol’ White Joe called Vladimir Putin “a killer.”  This week, Ol’ Joe called Vlad on the phone and suggested a friendly in-person meet-up in some “third country.” In the meantime, Ol’ Joe essayed to send a couple of US warships into the Black Sea to assert America’s interest in Ukraine, the failed state whose American-sponsored failure was engineered in 2014 by Barack Obama’s State Department. Turkey, which controls the narrow entrance to the Black Sea, was notified that two US destroyers would be steaming through its territory. Hours after the announcement, the US called off the ships. Then, hours after Ol’ Joe proffered that summit meeting, his State Department imposed new economic sanctions on Russia and tossed out a dozen or so Russian embassy staff. How’s that for a coherent foreign policy?

What’s going on in Ukraine, anyway? The US and NATO have prompted Ukraine to move troops and tanks toward the ethnically-Russian breakaway Donbass region. Russia countered by massing 100,000 troops on Ukraine’s border. Though supplied with Western armaments, Ukraine’s ragtag and incompetent army has no ability to control the Donbass, nor do either NATO and the US have any real will to interfere there with their own troops — the logistics are insane. Mr. Putin’s elegant solution: evacuate the three-plus million Russians stuck in Donbass into Russia — which needs labor — ceding the empty territory to foundering Ukraine — soon to be an ungovernable post-industrial frontier between East and West. For a rich rundown on these matters, read Dmitry Orlov’s mordant disquisition on the subject: Putin’s Ukrainian Judo.

The lesson there is that the US has absolutely nothing to gain from continuing to antagonize Russia, and that the mentally weak Joe Biden is merely projecting the picture of a weakened and confused USA by keeping it up. Of course, a closer read might be that these hijinks are meant to distract from the more serious and consequential breakdown in relations between the US and China, currently engineered by the blundering team of Sec’y of State Antony Blinken and National Security Advisor Jake Sullivan, who went to Alaska recently to tell the Chinese delegation that they were morally unworthy of conducting trade negotiations, thereby torpedoing the trade negotiations that they went to Alaska to conduct. Smooth move fellas.

Actually, the REAL lesson there will be in what happens when decaying, once-mighty nations with hollowed-out, overly-tech-reliant, and cripplingly politicized military establishments get above their station and go strutting about on a global stage that became way too big for them while they were sitting back on their doughy duffs and going all soft and flubbery. It’s debatable whether Putin and his tough, much-better-trained and -led soldiery will be able to stop laughing at the dress-wearing poofters and Equal Opportunity officer corps we’re pleased to call “soldiers” long enough to kick Amerika v2.0’s transgender ass up between its shoulder blades.

And to think, that’s only the Foreign Policy Follies. James hasn’t even gotten around to Domestic Demonics yet, which are probably even worse.

Update! On the other hand, we still produce a few wild-eyed bastiges who build custom lawnmowers like this beauty.

(Via Bill)

Not too messianic update! I’ll just go ahead and confess right upfront that I did NOT see this coming.

Simone Peer, who once identified as an “ambassador for Satan” shared her testimony of how God used rocker Alice Cooper to deliver her from witchcraft.

Peer never thought practicing white magic was wrong, as she considered it the “good side” of the occult.

“I was a ‘white witch,’ and this was ‘white witchcraft’ that was divine and heavenly,” Peer said in a recent interview with CBN News. But later, she came to realize, “I was an ambassador for Satan.”

In 2017, desperately searching for truth and hoping to have peace in her life, Peer stumbled across a video of famous heavy metal musician Alice Cooper. The Rock and Roll Hall of Famer became a Christian late in life and had been publicly sharing his testimony. In the video that Peer watched, Cooper talked about finding freedom in Jesus Christ, freed from alcoholism.

“For those who walked the same path that I did, Jesus is the answer that you are looking for. He truly is,” she declared.
In a 2014 interview with The Hard Music magazine, Cooper denounced “celebrity Christianity” and stressed to his fans that he is “nothing more than” a singer, and they shouldn’t look at him as an expert on Christianity.

“It’s really easy to focus on Alice Cooper and not on Christ,” he said. “I’m a rock singer. I’m nothing more than that. I’m not a philosopher. I consider myself low on the totem pole of knowledgeable Christians. So don’t look for answers from me.”

This might well be the greatest post of all time.

Scalp: collected

The burning of a righteous man.

Papa John’s Pizza founder and CEO John Schnatter was forced out of his own company back in 2018 after he reportedly used the N-word on a phone call. Yet in the past few weeks, Schnatter has released the transcript of the phone call in question, and that transcript reveals the true story — it appears Schnatter was set up and the alleged “offense” wasn’t an offense at all. The Papa John’s founder suffered a heinous defamation of character.

Schnatter has sued Laundry Service, the company he hired to help bolster his public image, for many breaches of contract. His lawsuit claims that the company blackmailed him and orchestrated his destruction.

The racism accusations against Schnatter had always been politically motivated and overblown, but the transcript reveals just how duplicitous Laundry Service was and just how deceptive was the story that tanked Schnatter’s career.

The Laundry Service is a shitlib firm, staffed entirely by dishonest, amoral, hate-crazed shitlibs. Schnatter, as a prominent and tremendously successful Right-thinking entrepreneur, was like a fat, juicy steak dangling in front of a hungry tiger’s nose—a prospective kill so enticing that no vicious shitlib could pass up a chance at taking him down and destroying his life. Yet the inexplicable fact remains that John hired the evil bastards himself, shelling out millions of his hard-earned dollars to enrich the same scabrous curs who would then happily engineer his ruination without batting an eye.

The quote that damned Schnatter, scandalized the citizens, and was used to construct the gallows for the low-tech lynching of a guiltless man?

The Papa John’s founder did not use the N-word in the exercise but rather when he spoke with members of his team after the call. The recording and the transcript captured Schnatter’s remarks along with those of Laundry Service personnel who spoke to one another on mute afterward.

“I got to tell you, heaven forbid this company if they’re not going to use me at all. After I’ve looked at this research, I mean, I’m just not seeing how you’re not going to tell the Papa John story and let them – what bothers me is Colonel Sanders called blacks n******. I’m like, I’ve never used that word. And they get away with it,” Schnatter said. “Yet we use the word ‘debacle’ and we get framed in the same genre. It’s crazy. The whole thing’s crazy.”

Well, I won’t say it isn’t. But what’s much, much crazier is that, after having seen so many of their fellows get their butts caught in the blades the exact same way time and time again, there are still some who profess shock when they DO get away with it. Which they always, always do. Why conservative businessmen go right on entering into business relationships with people that so desperately hate them—foolishly trusting in the integrity, professionalism, and broadmindedness of people who possess none of those fine qualities—is beyond comprehension.

Legend you never heard of

Another day, another effing brilliant SteynMusic outing.

This weekend marks the centenary of George David Weiss, born April 9th 1921. Who was George David Weiss? Well, he’s no household name, but, to reprise my old line on obscure songwriters, you’d be hard put to find a household that doesn’t know at least one George David Weiss song.

So who was George David Weiss? Well, even George Shearing, who wrote his one and only enduring song with Weiss, had no more to say about him in his autobiography than that he was “a man by the name of George David Weiss”. The man by the name of was born under that name in April 1921 and was all set to become a lawyer or accountant when he decided to follow his heart and go to Juilliard, where he learned composing and arranging. The latter got him employment with Stan Kenton and other bands, until he met his first songwriting partner, the talented West Indian composer Bennie Benjamin. A young Sinatra picked up their “Oh, What It Seemed to Be”, and a few years later Kay Starr had a monster hit with “Wheel of Fortune”…

Starr’s chartbuster is of course a true gem, one which I’ve thoroughly enjoyed performing onstage myself who even knows how many times. Robert Gordon did a mighty fine version as well.



Weiss had one hell of a capacious catalog, and as Steyn somewhat bemusedly notes, had everybody from Sinatra to Nat Cole to Peggy Lee to Elvis to…ummm…Whitesnake(?!?) cover his stuff over the years. That’s a variety so stylistically broad that it says a lot about the enduring appeal of the man’s work all by itself. I’ll embed another of my personal all-time Weiss faves before we all move on to what I consider the really fun part of the story.



The Tokens, in an ironic twist quite commonly found in the music biz, not only had no faith in the song but actually despised the thing, even going so far as to plead with the producers and their label not to release the very song that would end up being their one and only bona fide smash. Not the first time such lightning-strikes weirdness has occurred in the biz, and you can be sure it won’t be the last.

Now we come to the part I was most amused by, a chapter of the Weiss story all a-brim with music biz irony of its own unique flavor. This will require some heavy excerpting, but I assure one and all that the payoff is well worth the arduous wade to get there.

It started with Bob Thiele, who was a successful record producer but only a very occasional songwriter. So, for a composing partner, he turned, as so many others have done, to George David Weiss. In theory the latter could have written any or all of “What a Wonderful World”, but Thiele told me that Weiss stayed mostly down the musical end.

Which I find hard to believe, because the tune is mostly “Twinkle, twinkle, little star” and, after decades in the music biz, Weiss was way beyond that.

On the other hand, Weiss told Graham Nash (of the Hollies and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young) that he wrote it with Louis Armstrong in mind – which suggests he also had a hand in the lyric.

Why Satchmo? Well, it was a ballad of hope and optimism that transcended the times. But for that very reason it also required a singer who transcended the times.

A singer like, say, Louis Armstrong…

And, if you think that seems kind of obvious now, it certainly wasn’t in 1967. If you pick up almost any jazz critic’s biography of Satchmo, they generally follow the same basic arc: Terrific trumpeter, innovative musician – and then he sold out and did commercial pap for suburban hi-fi filler. I don’t subscribe to that crude reductio myself, but it is true that, after he’d booted the Beatles off the top and taken “Hello, Dolly!” to Number One, the calculus changed somewhat for Armstrong’s management: There’s a new Broadway show opening? Take the big song and do another “Dolly” knock-off. Hence Satchmo’s “Mame” and Satchmo’s “Cabaret”, and doubtless, had he lived, Satchmo’s “Jesus Christ Superstar” and Satchmo’s “Phantom of the Opera”.

Nevertheless, the writers met with Louis to pitch the song. As Bob Thiele recalled, “We wanted this immortal musician and performer to say, as only he could, the world really is great: full of the love and sharing people make possible for themselves and each other every day.”

Instead, Satch peered at the sheet – unlike many singers, he was a musician who could read the music – and, when his eye got to the bottom of the page, he looked up and said:

What is this sh*t?

He was studying the music – no words, just a contemporary ballad tune that called not for Armstrong’s tight jazzy All-Stars but for a string section willing to play “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”. I wouldn’t myself say the tune was exactly “sh*t”…But, as I said, Armstrong hadn’t seen the lyrics. And, when they passed him the words, he fell in love. Not so much because of the green trees, red roses, blue skies, white clouds, but because of the final eight bars, which ditch the “colors of the rainbow” theme:

I hear babies cry, I watch them grow
They’ll learn much more than I’ll never know
And I think to myself
What A Wonderful World…

That quatrain reminded him of 107th Street in Queens, the tree-lined block he and his wife Lucille had lived on for a quarter-century (and whose modest red-brick home now houses the Louis Armstrong Museum):

There’s so much in ‘Wonderful World’ that brings me back to my neighborhood where I live in Corona, New York. Lucille and I, ever since we’re married, we’ve been right there in that block. And everybody keeps their little homes up like we do and it’s just like one big family. I saw three generations come up on that block. And they’re all with their children, grandchildren, they come back to see Uncle Satchmo and Aunt Lucille …and I got pictures of them when they was five, six and seven years old. So when they hand me this ‘Wonderful World,’ I didn’t look no further, that was it.

He was genuinely touched by the heartfelt optimistic simplicity of the sentiment, and its faith in the future – that a new generation would know things that he would never live to see. Like, er, Twitter. Well, let’s not get hung up on the details. He was struck by the song’s message, and so agreed to sing it.

An arrangement was made, musicians were booked, and a studio was procured – for a midnight session in Vegas, after Satch had finished up his set at the Tropicana. There was just one problem. Louis Armstrong had recently switched record labels, to ABC, and the president of the company, Larry Newton, was opposed to Satchmo doing “What a Wonderful World”. I don’t mean he was antipathetic or indifferent to it, or felt it was not a strong choice for a single but would be okay for Side 2 Track 5 of an album. I don’t even mean that he disliked it. He loathed “What a Wonderful World” with a passion: He thought he’d signed the Number One bestselling pop star of “Hello, Dolly!”, and he didn’t want his new act doing what he regarded as the polar opposite of “Dolly” – a soporific inert crawl-tempo ballad.

He’s not necessarily mistaken about that, as my kid’s class certainly demonstrated. So I’m not unsympathetic to Larry Newton’s concerns. The trouble was that on August 16th 1967 he’d flown in to Vegas for a photo shoot with his new star and that evening he showed up at United Studios determined to prevent the recording. He went so totally bananas that Ed Thiele, as producer, and Artie Butler, the arranger, and George Weiss and Frank Military, who were also present, hustled him through the door and locked him out of the studio. Which isn’t exactly conducive to Louis Armstrong recording a tender and sensitive ballad unlike anything he’d sung before…

It was a long session – either because of Newton’s antics or because they were interrupted by the toots of passing Union Pacific freight trains, or because the material was a little outside Pops’ comfort zone. They stayed there till 6am, and then they all went for breakfast. And the label only agreed to pay the orchestra for their extended shift on condition that Satchmo himself accept a mere $250 for the session. But it was worth it: Louis worked and worked on his interpretation until he and the writers were satisfied. I confess as a young child I always heard “the dark sacred night” as “the dark say goodnight”, but once I’d grasped Satch’s enunciation I appreciated what a fine pairing that makes with “the bright blessed day”: it adds a subtle touch of the holy and transcendental to the song; that the world is not merely “wonderful” in the way that a great cheeseburger and a vanilla shake can be, but truly wonderful because it’s the wonder of God’s creation. But, as I said, it’s discreetly done. And Armstrong’s reading of the middle-eight, in that unmistakeable beautiful gravelly rasp, is as sincere and true as anything he ever sang:

The colors of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of people going by
I see friends shaking hands, saying ‘How do you do?’
They’re really saying, ‘I love you…’

Is that really what they’re saying? Well, Pops bought into it. In the studio that night, representing all those children who’d grow to learn more than he’d ever know, was George Weiss’ kid Peggy. “So you’re George’s daughter? Pleased to meet you!” And he shook her hand, and maybe, for a small, shrunken old man not in the best of health, it really did mean “I love you.”

And, for those wondering what the hell all this hippie-dippie peace’n’love stuff had to do with Louis Armstrong, he waited to the very end to tie it back to his entire oeuvre in what, with hindsight, was the only possible wrap-up:

Ohhhhhh, yeahhhhhh.

Larry Newton wanted another “Hello, Dolly!” Well, he got the last two words.

But he wasn’t happy, and he swore to exact his revenge – by doubling down on the petty and stupid. In order to prove he was right about the song, he released the single in late 1967, but refused to promote it. He didn’t ship it to radio stations, so no disc-jockeys played it, and nobody bought it. In those days, ABC’s UK distribution was licensed to EMI, and, in the fullness of time, “What a Wonderful World” showed up at the London office, and they released it as a normal single. Actually, not that normal, because it was, I believe, the very last single EMI released on their HMV label. But, other than that, they did all the things you’re meant to do with a new release: They sent review copies to the BBC and to trade magazines, and discovered what Larry Newton, once he’d gotten over being locked out of the studio, should have realized – that people really liked it. It entered the UK charts at the beginning of February 1968 at Number 45, cracked the Top Forty in its second week, the Top Thirty in its fourth, and then climbed through March and April up to Number One.
So, just for the record, where did it get to on the Billboard Hot 100?

Er, big hit sound Number 116.

In fact, Larry Newton’s singular talent for sabotage was so effective that he wound up with a record that was a hit everywhere except his own territory: Top Thirty in Australia, Top Twenty in New Zealand and the Netherlands, Number Seven in Switzerland, Number Six in Belgium and Germany and Norway, Number Two in Ireland, Number One in Austria… What a wonderful world (America excepted). In London, EMI decided the song was so big they needed an album built around it. At which point Larry Newton decided to triple-down on the moronic. He agreed to the LP, but only if Armstrong did it for $500. Joe Glaser, Louis’ manager, wasn’t in the mood for that, and instructed Bob Thiele:

You tell that fat bastard to go f**k himself and give us $25,000 for eight more sides.

Larry Newton responded:

Tell him to go f**k himself, and why do we give a sh*t about these European companies? Screw ’em all.

They’re really saying “I love you”.

Three years later, Louis Armstrong was dead. If you’d been listening to the radio in Britain, Europe, around the planet in 1971, they marked his passing with “What a Wonderful World”. On American stations, they played everything but.

It took two decades and Good Morning, Vietnam for a great record finally to achieve the recognition on its home turf it had known for a generation everywhere else. It doesn’t matter that Satch was born in 1901; he sounds old and elegaic on the record, and that’s the point: he’s a fellow approaching the end of his life, but he’s not bitter or even bittersweet; he’s not looking back but looking forward to when those babies will grow. It’s an old man, but it’s a young song. That’s why it’s a popular father/daughter dance at weddings: It’s the past blessing the future.

And that’s also true of any great songwriter’s catalogue – which is why we salute George David Weiss on his centennial.

As for Larry Newton, well, I wasn’t sure whether he was still with us or not, so I looked him up, and read:

Newton is probably best remembered today for trying to stop Louis Armstrong from recording ‘What A Wonderful World’.

Ohhhhhh, yeahhhhhh!

Beautiful song, beautiful story, no? Tales like this provide a small window onto why it is that people get into the music business in the first place, and why a not-negligible percentage of them are perfectly willing to break themselves—financially, spiritually, morally, even physically—to stay in, on any level they can contrive. I swear, out of all the great music posts Steyn has done, and he’s done quite a few, this one may well be the beat of ’em all.

About a guy most of us have probably never even heard of.

Plugs in

Steyn gives us one more perfect Prince Phillip quip, with a Shirley Bassey bonus thrown in.

If you’re a Royal consort, you wind up going to a lot of nights out you have not the slightest interest in, like the Royal Command Performance and the Royal Film Premiere and the like. In November 2002, arriving at the Royal Albert Hall for the world premiere of the James Bond film Die Another Day, His Royal Highness was informed by an excited person in the welcome line that Madonna would be singing the title song. He turned to the Queen, and remarked drily, “So we’ll need earplugs then.”

He was quite right. Shirley Bassey had neglected to bring hers, and so, just a few minutes later, the opening titles and the song ended, and Dame Shirl yelled from the stalls, “Rubbish!” She was quite right, too.

Hey, when you’re right, you’re right.

Enemies in common update! If they’re ag’in him, I’m for him.



I imagine Philip’s “legacy” will be just fine, thanks, whatever caviling PC nudniks may think, say, or do. In fact, I’d wager the Prince will be fondly remembered long after CNN is dead, buried, and forgotten. I’m with the WSJ’s Gerard Baker all the way:

I had the privilege some years ago to be invited to a July 4 dinner at the American ambassador’s residence in London. Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip were the guests of honor, there presumably to bear witness that, after a couple of centuries, the unfortunate business over the repeated injuries and usurpations inflicted by one of her ancestors had been quietly forgotten.

The ambassador rose to give the not-so-loyal toast.

He began with the inevitable nod to the two nations’ divergent histories, noting that some time earlier, in their great wisdom, his compatriots had decided to go it alone. “Oh yes!” cried the prince from a sedentary position, fortified, no doubt, by a couple of glasses of the embassy’s very good wine. “And how’s that working out for you?” It was a good question then, and it’s more apt than ever now given America’s current predicament. The people that once boldly threw off the tyranny of a distant monarch now seem to be meekly submitting to the diktats of a regnant class and ideology that tolerate less independence of thought and action than King George III did.

As the prince did at that dinner, he had an unerring capacity to ask awkward questions, speak inconvenient truths and challenge polite orthodoxies.

When we are obligated to toe an increasingly stultifying conventional line, the queen’s consort was the human antidote to the virus of verbal oppression that has us in a death grip. You’d search a very long time to find a less woke individual than the duke of Edinburgh.

He got all the right knickers in a twist, and he’s still doing it, which makes him a-okay in my book. The unhappier shitlib types are, the better I like it. Kruiser says it well:

Three cheers to Prince Philip for being able to annoy our worthless woke morons first from beyond an ocean and now from beyond the grave.

I don’t care how rich he was, I would have bought him a drink in a heartbeat.

Rest in peace, Phil.

Amen to that.

It’s a mad, mad, mad, MAD world

Inmates, running the asylum.

We used to have mental hospitals, sanitariums, asylums, for the seriously, and long-term, mentally ill. We locked dangerous people away. But too damned many of those facilities were terrible. Outright abuse of patients, well-intended treatments that were abusive, neglect… you name it, they did it. There was a backlash against them. We still have some comparatively small, specialized in-patient treatment centers, but for the most part, we started “mainstreaming” the mentally ill, the out-right crazed. Give enough drugs to keep them from completely flipping out, and hope they’ll keep filling the prescription and taking the meds.

We didn’t just mainstream crazy people, society mainstreamed insanity. A generation grew up watching crazy people acting out around them without knowing they were crazy. It became acceptable to act that way. And as more people picked it up, it set the example for even more.

That’s why we have people like “crewcut lady” who think sharing their psychotic breaks in videos to the world is a good idea. If they left it at that, fine. But they didn’t.

Our new batch of lunatics applied their crazy and illogic to everything in life. That’s how idjits like David Hogglet can demand that oh-so-mature sixteen year-olds be able to vote on life or death issues, but eighteen year-olds are to immature to be trusted with a firearm.

Not entirely sure whether that’s crazy per se, or just fucking stupid. No matter, I suppose; we all wind up in the same place either way.

That’s how we got Alexandria Occasionally-firing-Cortex’ grand plan to save the planet by strip mining it, and filling the holes with the toxic waste left over from manufacturing all those wind gennies and solar panels. Or her plan to simply print monopoly money to pay for it all, then tax every bit of it back to “prevent inflation.” (Hint: Paying for something, then taking the money back without returning the thing is theft. Paying people to work, then stealing the pay back though taxes is slavery.)

Contra my above statement, I am one hundred percent certain that Toothy McBigTits, however out-of-her-mind she may seem to sensible people, is really just plain old-fashioned stupid. That enough New Yorkers voted for her dumb ass to send her to Congress instead of keeping her in her titty-bar habitat humping the pole, as God intended? THAT’S what’s crazy.

That’s how we got a generation of socialist-indoctrinated schoolkids, who see so much crazy on the street that the crazy in classroom doesn’t faze them a bit.

So yeah; when I wrote about how everyone got too dumbed down to keep up the infrastructure? Remember that they are just dumb, they’re crazy. Enjoy operating appliances — “water-saving” clothes washer and dishwashers that take hours to not clean and use more energy, “water-saving” toilets that require multiple flushes to actually flush — designed by the criminally insane.

Bad enough, sure, but there’s worse.

United Airlines plans to hire and train 5,000 pilots, including some with no flying experience

It appears that the skies are about to get a lot less friendly, to repurpose United’s old ad tagline for use against them.

United Airlines says it will train 5,000 pilots this decade, including taking on applicants with no flying experience, and plans for half of them to be women or people of color.

United will borrow an approach used elsewhere, notably at Germany’s Lufthansa, by taking people at the beginning of their flying careers and training them at its own academy, which it bought last year. United will continue to draw pilots from traditional sources such as the military, however.

Airline officials began accepting applicants for United’s flight academy Tuesday.

The subject of a pilot shortage — it is not universally accepted that one exists — was hotly discussed in the airline industry before the coronavirus pandemic hit, and then receded as airlines around the world grounded planes and reduced their pilot ranks in response to the plunge in air travel.

Now travel is rebounding, although it hasn’t returned to 2019 levels.

Much as I’ve always loved to fly, I can guar-on-TEE I won’t be getting on any commercial flights now that I know that they no longer consider being, y’know, a fully-trained, capable pilot a more essential requirement for strapping on an airliner and calling him, zxher, or itself a bona fide, pro-fessional Bus Driver In The Sky than gender, ethnicity, sexual preference, Wokeness, or any of the myriad other irrelevancies to which our society now grants primacy of place over such oppressive and hateful inequities as aptitude and ability. In the unlikely event I’m forced to fly someplace, it damned sure won’t be on United, their having officially declared a newfound disinterest in recruiting the best, most qualified people for left-seater employment, preferring instead to bump Diversity and PC Feelgoodz right on up to Item One on the job application.

Nice of them to be upfront about their total abandonment of all standards of safety, rationality, and corporate responsibility, I suppose. But after a bonehead move like this, I’d rather crawl on hands and knees over a mile of alcohol-drenched broken glass than Fly United™. Henceforth, if I want to fly my brother and I will drive to one of several local civil-aviation facilities, rent ourselves a 172, Seminole, or something along those lines (or a King Air—YES!!!), and just DIY it, thenksveddymuch. We’ve actually done quite a good bit of that very thing over the years, whether for strictly Point A-to-Point B purposes or just an afternoon’s amusement. If you’ve never traveled on a small private aircraft, you can take my word for it when I say that it’s one heck of a lot more fun than flying commercial anyhoo.

Yes, renting a small plane ain’t exactly cheap, especially the fuel cost. But these days, the airlines ain’t exactly cheap either. Throw in a plethora of indignities and/or abuse at the halfwit whim of handsy, thuggish TSA mouthbreathers; interminable delays, endless lines, long walks, surly counter personnel, layovers, and scheduling cockups; and too much other terminal and concourse unpleasantness to list, before you even board. All of that, to then put your very life—quite literally—in the hands of some diversity-hire horrorshow who can’t even run the preflight checklist without more-competent supervision? Someone hired not because thorough vetting confirmed them as the best person for the job, but because there’s a box on the gooberment’s Mandatory Diversity Form that the airline needed to put an X in?

Yeah, no. Spendy or not, the fly-it-yourself option begins to look like a real bargain in comparison, don’t it?

Update! Diversity is NEVER a strength, in any business or industrial context. But in certain fields where the hazard to life and limb is both real and significant, diversity goes from being merely an expensive but more or less bearable nuisance to a serious threat.

After a hard year of reduced travel from the coronavirus, United Airlines decided it was time to announce a new initiative: “Our flight deck should reflect the diverse group of people on board our planes every day. That’s why we plan for 50% of the 5,000 pilots we train in the next decade to be women or people of color.” This type of corporate mantra is so common these days as to be unremarkable. But this announcement led to a lot of critical comments on social media—the dreaded ratio—about how this initiative has nothing to do with making flying safer.

United’s policies, however, are a rather typical expression of the ideology of diversity, a successor to the earlier, more limited concept of affirmative action.

By the 1990s, diversity itself became an entire industry. There were diversity consultants and chief diversity officers. Everyone in the public and private sector now mouths platitudes in support of diversity. An important factor missing from all the diversity talk was data. One reason, of course, is that certain questions are simply too dangerous to explore. The wrong conclusion can lead to pariah status, as The Bell Curve authors learned.

This is why diversity is especially prominent in soft fields with vague metrics of productivity: higher education, government, journalism, nonprofit management, marketing, and human resources. These fields have diffuse responsibility and limited accountability. Bad work by a mediocre employee cannot easily be measured or found out.

In a sense, diversity is a luxury good. Profitable enterprises can absorb people who are not the best of the best, particularly for jobs where being the best is not an important requirement; other talented and hard-working people can cover the slack. In large organizations, there are also jobs where less skilled people can do relatively little harm, like “community liaison.”

For more tangible fields, like firefighting or police work, the costs of lowering standards are more tangible—sometimes directly causing real headaches—but there is little courage inside or outside organizations to speak frankly about the costs of diversity.

This brings us back to United Airlines. There are certain jobs—heart surgeon, pilot, oil tanker captain—where there is almost no room for error. There is a linear relationship of talent and skill, and those on the customer side, as well as the general public, insist on excellence. Mistakes are immediate and costly.

In response to customer criticism, United insisted there would be no degradation in standards or quality. This seems unlikely. In every other field where diversity becomes the watchword, excellence becomes a secondary priority. After all, excellence is rare. Whatever criteria were used to pick the best people before could simply be applied to all comers, the results listed first to last. Everyone knows this would undermine diverse outcomes. 

Another important reality undermines diversity propaganda. Hiring and promotion are zero-sum games; to advance one group, one must artificially hold back another. For example, United has said it will definitely not hire more than 2,500 white men to be pilots no matter how skilled. These messages have an impact. Even so, we are told “diversity benefits everyone,” and it is “our” strength. 

Surveying the country, it’s hard not to see a more general reduction in quality across the board…not in strength, but fragility. Consider the recent COVID episode. Does this look like a society with a lot of resilience, or one with highly skilled elites and decision-makers? 

One would think the airline business is fundamentally simple: get people from point A to point B quickly, cheaply, comfortably, and, most important of all, safely. Presumably airplanes not falling out of the sky is just as important as who wins the Super Bowl.

But for United, safety has to fly coach. 

Unfortunately for United, there are other options out there. After this self-inflicted debacle, UA can expect those alternatives to be carefully weighed, by a large number of prospective passengers—planeloads of ’em, one might say.

Evil is real

And must either be confronted, or yielded to.

Elections in America have always been contentious things, as the point of them is to get all sides as agitated as possible. If you wanted to find the point at which our elections turned ugly it would be when the concept of turnout became the focus. The surest way to get your guys motivated to vote is to convince them that the alternative is pure evil, the worst thing imaginable. Since one side will always lose, it means something close to half the country is always angry at the result.

The thing is though, it was always a game and most people got it. The candidates would say the vilest things about one another, but then carry on like old pals during a debate, showing the world they did not really mean those things. In fact, this is why the Left has controlled the country. Everyone else has always been sure the Left was not really serious about what they were saying. Despite it all, many people remain convinced that the Left today is just putting on a show.

That may be one of the factors creating the current crisis. The eruption of mass media over the last couple of decades puts the Left in our face all the time. There is no escaping politics today, which means there is no escaping the Left. Watch a sporting event and there will be lefty political preaching. Check the weather for your trip to the beach and you get a lecture on global warming. Go outside and you see people wearing three masks in their car, letting you know they are in that cult.

Of course, social media is like standing in front of a firehose. Even if you only want to follow something banal like entertainment news, you will be drenched in political commentary, almost entirely from the Left. The carnies all fashion themselves as philosophers now. The athletes have made politics a feature of their act. These are the dumbest, crudest people in our society, but they are sure you need to know what they have to say about current events.

There is another part to this. Along with not being able to escape the left-wing crazies, it is becoming increasingly clear that there is no living with them. Politics, regardless of the system, is about compromise. The opposing sides find some middle ground that they can accept or some combination of their proposals that prevent either side from feeling cheated by the other. In a democracy, compromise is based on the understanding that both sides want what is best.

How do you reach a compromise with someone who thinks invisible men from a faraway land used mind control to change an election? On top of that, they were perfectly willing to destroy the country over it. If one side is sure the other side is evil, there can never be a compromise. The best you can get is a truce in the hostilities, but eventually one side will attack again. After all, any compromise with evil is immoral on its face, so the only more thing to do is confront it.

The larger issue isn’t that one side believes the other is evil. The most pressing issue is that one side is, in fact, EVIL. When one identifies the Left as capital-E Evil, one is neither exaggerating for effect nor issuing an unfounded charge.

The problem is redoubled—nay, retripled, reFOURPLED, even—by the fact that the non-evil side is extremely reluctant to acknowledge that the Evil side is, in fact, EVIL. Then redouble it again owing to the Not-Evils’ dread of being thought of as—GASP!!—impolitic, overwrought, or just goshdarnit RUDE should they dare to conduct themselves according to the acknowledgement that they didn’t want to own up to in the first damned place, and…well, it won’t be long before everybody throws up their hands in despair, says to hell with it all, and heads on back home for a nice, frazzled-nerve-soothing nap on the couch.

Some of our Non-Evils really need to ask themselves a few things, and should not be allowed any dessert until they’re able to provide a satisfactory answer:

  • Do you truly believe that Leftists—Progressivists, liberals, Democrat-Socialists, whatever—are in fact Marxists/Statists/Commies/totalitarians/whatever?
  • Do you truly believe that Marxism/Socialism/Communism/totalitarianism/collectivism/whatever is in fact an evil ideology?
  • Can you explain why, exactly, having just admitted to truly believing both those things, you find it so difficult to just say so right out loud?

This, in turn, brings to boil a whole kettle of other most pertinent fish, a standout among which is the cognitive dissonance created by recognizing Evil and at the same time denying yourself any effective means to combat it. Some of the others I’ll likely be going into in a later post.

SCIENCE!!!

COME ON, MAN.

Biden Claims Commercial Planes May Soon Go 21,000 MPH — Meaning a New York to LA Trip Would Take 7 Minutes

Uhhhh HUH. God, but I love this soooo much, I really do. Rave on, Gramps.

President Joe Biden claimed Wednesday that commercial aircraft would soon be able to travel at speeds of up to 21,000 miles per hour.

“I tell the kids, the young people that work for me — I told my kids, when I go on college campuses, they’re going to see more change in the next 10 years than we’ve seen in the last 50 years,” Biden said during an address about his proposed infrastructure legislation. “We’re going to talk about commercial aircraft flying at subsonic speeds, supersonic speeds, be able to figuratively, if you may, if we decide to do it, be able to traverse the world in an hour, travel at 21,000 miles an hour.”

Which, in case you didn’t know, is actually quite a bit faster than the ISS, which plods along at a bit under 18,000 mph or thereabouts. Never you mind, Gramps, you go ‘head on.

It was not clear what Biden meant by “figuratively.” The speed he suggested is roughly equivalent to Mach 28, which would make airlines capable of traversing the 2,400 miles between New York and Los Angeles in roughly seven minutes. The fastest commercial airliners presently travel at speeds of about 600 miles per hour, a little less than Mach 1.

Several companies do have plans in the works to increase top speeds to nearly 4,000 miles per hour, or Mach 5. Boeing announced plans to that effect in 2018. Florida-based Aerion announced similar plans last month for a Mach 4+ commercial airliner, which it said would be ready “before the end of the decade.”

Shyeeeaaah, like that’s ever gonna happen. I mean, I’m sure they can build ’em, but everyone who thinks the Safety Nazis will permit any such super-speedster aircraft to fly here without protest please raise your hand. Not to even mention that the sleek, beautiful, now sadly-defunct Concorde, a real pokealong at just over Mach 2, got itself banned from overland flight in the US and several other countries due to complaints about the noise from sonic booms.

It’s a beautiful, beautiful dream you have there, Gropey, it truly is. But if it ever comes true the FUSA won’t have had any part in it, it won’t be because of anything you did, and you won’t deserve an ounce of credit for it.

Not that any of that will stop him from trying to glom it for himself anyway, natch.

Doin’ the dirty boogie

WARNING: Some of you more genteel types will definitely want to avert your eyes from what follows, which I’ll tuck below the fold just as a courtesy. The embedded and/or linked material is, by all civilized standards, not safe for work—or for polite company in places outside the office, probably. Vulgar old bastid that I am, I think it’s just hilarious. Continue reading “Doin’ the dirty boogie”

Nothing new under the sun

Our booz-em chum Tal Bachman makes the case that this time maybe, just maybe, there might actually be.

At the end of my last column for SteynOnline, I asked: “What can patriots do to retake their beloved nation?”

We could do worse than getting to know our enemy. Not just know them, but really get inside their heads to understand where they’re coming from, and why.

This is what I see.

The strange figures known as Wokists currently destroying America aren’t just reprises of earlier enemies. They represent something rather new. The political cult of Wokism combines the worst aspects of every political cult in history.

Mebbe so, mebbe so. As a committed contrarian, however, I feel it incumbent on me to take up the mantle of Devil’s advocate here, just a wee bit. The eye-tearing tableau of Wokistry looks to me not so much like a unique and wholly new departure from the standard-issue, Mark-1 Mod-0 Lefist cant with which exhausted Normals have become depressingly familiar. Rather, I think Wokistry and its companion ideological afflictions might more correctly be seen as extensions of said cant—extensions that have become, as they were ever more radicalized, grotesquely exaggerated caricatures of the comparatively moderate but more or less moribund Progtard ideology they elbowed aside and trampled underfoot.

Consider: Wokistry retains Progressivism’s century-old commitment to all-powerful, all-intrusive, all-encompassing government unaltered. Their hoary ideal of perfectable humanity, a sort of shitlib Frankenstein’s monster brought to life not with electric current but the judicial application of government authority and infallible Science, is old-school Progressivism 101. Likewise their unswerving faith in totalitarian rule by an Expert Class; blanket rejection of the existence of unchanging human nature to promote the notion that all human personal characteristics, preferences, and responses are instead malleable, subject to alteration through medical therapies, federal legislation, and societal pressure; the grandiose assertion of an “arc of history” impossible to stop or hinder, advancing human civilization always towards greater enlightenment, cooperation, compassion, equality, and whatever else they think constitutes “progress”—all these things together form the fundamental blueprint off which Progressivism has been working since Day One.

Arrogant, narcissistic twaddle, every bit of it—the stuff of stoned late-night Cow College dorm discussion amongst self-obsessed Ignorati Youth, nothing more. But the creature walks among us even today, and the Wokists, frustrated to the point of tetchiness with the seeming torpor of their more mellow antecedents, hew to an intensified, more aggressive update of the old version. Wokism is nothing new after all. It’s the same old pig in fresh lipstick.

My piffling and somewhat forced quibble aside, though, Bachman is actually dead on. In fact, there’s significant irony here: in proposing that Wokistry in essence amounts to a truly new development, he’s come up with something genuinely new his own bad self. To wit:

Whether they realize it or not, Wokists themselves combine the lunatic loyalty of the Manson family with the hollow pseudo-joy of Jonestown residents, the racism of National Socialists, the inhumanity of Mao Tse-Tung, the bratty tantrums of Veruca Salt, the nihilism of Bakunin-style anarchists, the totalitarianism of Stalin’s Soviet Union, the child torture and sacrifice of the Mayans, the derangement of Heaven’s Gate followers, the sadistic violence of the Jacobins, and the ruthless control-freakism of the current Chinese Communist Party.

Now add to that noxious syncretic blend the Wokist use of powerful communication technologies to shape narratives and meta-narratives, destroy opponents, and recruit new converts, and you’ve got yourself a thing.

Through it all, a counterfeit moral imperative with a deceptively appealing name (“social justice”) drives the cult. That counterfeit imperative casts all existence as one great battle between Good (Wokism) and Evil (everything that is not Woke). It denies any constraints on efforts to win that battle. It entails an obsessive totalitarianism. It forbids critical self-examination of itself. Adherents of the cult are Knowers of the One True Truth. They are crusaders in righteous battle. Only victory matters. Anyone so much as questioning the One True Truth, inside or out, must be destroyed.

All perfectly correct, all object lessons in how the spool of original Progressivism is unwound until the end of the thread has been reached.

It’s long been rightly said of the Progressivist beast that it cannot create or originate, only pervert, defile, and destroy. It forever walks a circular path, plodding doggedly along on his never-ending journey to a place he’s already been. The lumbering, delusional beast is incapable of altering anything but its velocity, never course or direction. Condemned by its own constricted vision, the poor, stupefied Proggybeast can only stumble pointlessly on, finally collapsing in a sweaty, disheveled heap from sheer exhaustion.

No wonder Progressivists are such bitter, angry, and hateful people.

And what they’re actually doing is something like an Invasive Parasite Play: While keeping the outer forms (like the country’s name, like “elections”, etc.) intact, they move in to co-opt and control the structures and institutions which really run the country (which is to say, the structures and institutions which control us). As a result, millions remain oblivious that Wokists are destroying and replacing everything that ever constituted the country—that is, that they are changing what ‘The United States of America’ actually is.

Among many other things, that means first targeting public order, buildings, cities, fair trials, public trust, careers, police forces, education, laws, educations, freedom of speech and religion and assembly and press, codes of ethics, corporate practices, borders, political boundaries, the military, the economy, demography, religious beliefs, customs, music, books, myths, movies, family dynamics, sexuality, heroes, villains, history, aspirations, everything, and then, wherever possible, either destroying them or replacing them with Wokist substitutes.

I mentioned above the analogy of an invasive parasite, but this play is really something even more ambitious. It’s a metamorphosis play, where infiltration, destruction, and replacement is followed by transforming the United States into some completely different entity altogether. That different entity is on track to resemble the former East Germany—a totalitarian puppet-state run by a lawless secret police, subservient to a greater foreign power—far more than any iteration of America throughout its history.

And that, as I always say, is no accident. Be ye not deceived: the Left, always and for all time, is working a plan here—a familiar one, a nefarious and wholly intolerable one. The plan’s contours and ambitions have not and will not change; however exaggerated or extreme the beliefs of the wild-eyed fanatics pushing it at any given time are, the song remains the same. Really, and meaning no insult whatever to my friend Tal, there’s nothing new about a single note of it.

RINOs gotta RINO

Another example of the system functioning exactly as intended. Which is another reason why the system has gotta go.

Arkansas Republican Gov. Asa Hutchinson defended his decision to veto legislation that would have made his state the first to ban gender-confirming treatments or surgery for transgender youth in a fiery exchange with Fox News host Tucker Carlson Tuesday.

“The Tucker Carlson Tonight” host explained to viewers that the bill nearly passed with Hutchinson’s support until the governor rejected the legislation that would have prohibited doctors from providing gender-confirming hormone treatment, puberty blockers or surgery to anyone under 18 years old, or from referring them to other providers for the treatment.

Hutchinson accused Carlson of misrepresenting the bill, explaining: “If this had been a bill that simply prohibited chemical castration, I would have signed the bill.”

Instead, he said, the bill presented to him was “was overbroad, it was extreme. It went far beyond what you just said.

“This is the first law in the nation that invokes the state between medical decisions, parents who consent to that and the decision of the patient. And so, this goes way too far. And in fact, it doesn’t even have a grandfather clause that those young people that are under hormonal treatment,” he argued.

When Carlson questioned whether Hutchinson was in contact with corporate interests in the state of Arkansas about the bill, the governor replied forcefully, “I answered that question and I said, no, I have not. Do you have another question?”

Ace takes a Viking broadaxe to that outrageous lie.

Shaw notes that Hutchinson is “term-limited” and therefore politics are not a reason for this.

No, but the fact that he’ll be needing a new high-paying job next year very much holds a clue to his behavior.

For anyone who’s a governor, the only possible future career paths are the presidency, the academy, or, of course, serving on the boards of corporations.

Sure, mere Congressmen can become sleazy lobbyists, but that’s too low-rent for a former governor.

Hutchinson has never been discussed as a potential president and has no entree into academia. Particularly now that the academy has purged all non-Marxists. Certainly you can’t be a Republican serving in a university’s administration.

That leaves the Corporate Parachute for Asa.

Now, you’re not going to believe this wild coincidence, but one of the largest retailers in human history, Walmart, just happens to have its headquarters in Arkansas, and, you’re definitely not going to believe this next coincindence, Tom Walton, an heir to the Walmart fortune, has very strong — oddly strong! — opinions on the gender of children.

Could there possibly be some connection here? Certainly Tucker Carlson seems exceptionally skeptical — he says as much — when Hutchinson claims he was not contacted by any corporate interests, not a single one, on this issue. Including, specifically, Walmart.

And yet Hutchinson knows Tom Walmart and Tom Walmart is extremely interested in children’s putative right to participate in genital cosplay.

The Ruling Class, like the Ruling Class all throughout history, is extraordinarily focused on the sexual liberation of children.

And as was almost surely the case with Kristi Noem — the word was passed to Hutchinson that his future corporate career could be derailed in a hurry if he didn’t play ball with the trans lobby.

Whether the word is being passed by a corporate donor himself — doubtful — or, more likely, one of his lobbyists or lawyers, the word is being passed. Big money if you veto this bill, no job prospects if you don’t.

This is a system of direct bribery of high public officials by megacorporations and it must be stopped.

It most certainly is, and every Normal American must shoulder a share of the blame for ever allowing such a system to develop, take root, and flower in the first place; its very existence amounts to a stark admonishment, and a disgrace. Backup for the shitlib spawn of Sam Walton’s open endorsement of child mutilation in the name of the Left’s bizarre obsession with the “transgender” subterfuge, for anybody who might need it:

Statement on Recent Arkansas Policy
“We are alarmed by the string of policy targeting LGBTQ people in Arkansas. This trend is harmful and sends the wrong message to those willing to invest in or visit our state. We support Gov. Asa Hutchinson’s recent veto of discriminatory policy and implore government, business and community leaders to consider the impact of existing and future policy that limits basic freedoms and does not promote inclusiveness in our communities and economy.

Our nation was built on inalienable rights and strengthened by individual differences. Arkansas has been called the land of opportunity because it is a place where anyone can think big and achieve the extraordinary. Any policy that limits individual opportunity also limits our state’s potential.”

– Tom Walton, Home Region Program Committee Chair – Walton Family Foundation

I started to fisk my way through that patent horseshit line by line but then decided, why bother? It would be a waste of wear and tear on my crippled old typing fingers: the statement’s blibbering absurdity is as transparent as the agenda driving it, for all who have eyes to see. And the people who will approve of it aren’t susceptible to persuasion by appeals to logic or simple human decency anyway.

Tom Walton’s extreme wealth places him beyond all reach, as he well knows, providing a highly effective shield against consequences for his advocacy of pure, unleavened evil. Not so much with Hutchinson, who should be hounded and harrassed without mercy or surcease from this day onward. On his very first walk through the doors to his opulent Wal Mart sinecure right on up to his last, he should find himself forced to run a gauntlet of angry protestors shouting epithets and calumny at his retreating backside. That still isn’t punishment enough to suit me, but the despicable scoundrel will certainly receive the eternal reward for all such self-serving treachery in good time.

UNEXPECTED update! Boy, the wheels sure came off THAT cart mighty fast.

During an appearance with Fox News’ Tucker Carlson on Tuesday night, Arkansas Republican governor Asa Hutchinson vociferously denied that he had been in contact with corporate interests in his state about the “Save Adolescents from Experimentation (SAFE) Act” which bans transition surgery, as well as hormones and puberty blockers, for Arkansas minors.
 
“I answered that question and I said, ‘no, I have not.’ Do you have another question?” Hutchinson told Carlson, who admitted he was “skeptical” of the denial. The interview came one day after Hutchinson vetoed the bill…

But in the fallout from those bills, and in the buildup to the SAFE Act, Hutchinson admitted in a March 31 appearance on Fox News that “some major global corporations here in Arkansas” are “certainly worried about the image of our state.”

While it remains unclear whether the Walton family personally lobbied Hutchinson on the bill — neither Hutchinson’s office nor the WFF returned requests for comment — the two have ties. Per FEC records, the Waltons are longtime financial supporters of Hutchinson’s political career, as is Walmart. Sam Walton’s brother, Steuart Walton, is a current board member at Walmart and was tapped by Hutchinson last April to chair the state’s “Economic Recovery Task Force.”

Ace sinks the putt:

How did Hutchinson know there was corporate worry about the image of Arkansas about these bills if no one from any corporate interests contacted him about them?

The idea that Tom Walton has such passionate feelings about the sexual autonomy of children, and yet wouldn’t call up his family’s pet governor to make these Frenchian passions known, is too absurd to credit as possible.

He’s lying. He told corporate interests that he would triangulate on these bills by signing two of them but vetoing the third.

They’re all fucking liars and it’s time to turn them out into the streets.

A half-decent start, maybe, but far too lenient by itself. There are several other corrective actions available for consideration. Y’know, while we’re all out in the street and all.

Mike WHO?

Now ain’t this rich.

Reports are that former Vice President Mike Pence is “laying the groundwork for [a] 2024 Presidential Run.”

BWAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

But the only groundwork Pence should be laying is for his retirement. His surrender to the Democratic Party in the final days of the Trump presidency disqualifies him. Pence may very well be a “good man,” but he’s also a weak man and America’s future depends on men who are both principled and strong.

And most especially on principled men who are strong enough to honestly confront the fact that there’s no longer any hope to be found in elections. But now we come to the part I found interesting.

The contested election of 2020 was not unprecedented. In fact, it bears a striking similarity to the contested election of 1876. The Democratic Party in 1876 was comprised of ex-confederates, who had lost the Civil War, but had not lost their pro-slavery opinions. A Democratic victory foreshadowed a regressive future that Southern blacks feared would return them to slavery and Republicans feared would guarantee a proliferation of white supremacy. The fate of the nation hung in the balance.

The fate of our nation hung in the balance in a similar way in 2020. A Democratic victory foreshadowed a regressive future in our time, which has come to fruition because of the Biden Administration. In only three months’ time we have seen an unprecedented assault on our Constitution—our country is less safe, our border is less secure, our future prosperity is less certain, and our unalienable rights are methodically stripped away.

Republicans in 1876 were as concerned about rampant Democratic Party election fraud as we were in 2020. Rutherford B. Hayes, the Republican Presidential candidate 144 years ago, predicted that his defeat would be “by crime—by bribery, & repeating [voters]” in the North and by “violence and intimidation” in the South. Trump likewise predicted that the 2020 election  “will be, in my opinion, the most corrupt election in the history of our country.” Both Hayes and Trump were right. I won’t rehash every instance of Democratic voter fraud in 2020—it would be redundant for this audience and also would fill a binder as thick as the Democrats’ latest pork-ulus bill.

There are two stark differences between the contested election of 1876 and the contested election of 2020. One, unlike Hayes, who went to sleep on election night certain of defeat, Trump went to bed certain of victory. Two, unlike the congressional Republicans in 1876, who refused to concede and fought tooth and nail to prevent the Democrats from installing their illegitimate presidential candidate Samuel Tilden in the Oval Office, the Congressional Republicans in 2020 folded like cheap lawn chairs.

Read on for more fascinating stuff. The contrast between the actual statesmen we were still blessed with back then and the contemptible curs we’re plagued by now couldn’t be more striking—or appalling. This is the kind of true American history they just don’t teach in school anymore, and that ain’t no accident, either.

IT’S THE REAL THING, BABY!!!

Ruh roh.

Racial stereotypes, racial classifications and quotas, explicitly racist indoctrination — why is Coca-Cola so obsessed with discriminating against people based on the color of their skin rather than evaluating all of the individual characteristics that make each person a unique member of the human race? Perhaps racism is in the company’s own DNA, not at all different from the way the beverage company judges white Americans as racists for historical injustices in which they claimed no part.

Actually, let’s just be straight and upfront about what Coke’s master-race bigotry truly is: Naziism.

Translation: One race, one nation, one fizzy sugar water—Coke is it! As an OG blogger, I’ve been waiting many years for the chance to use this old line unironically, and by here by the grace of God it is at long, long last: Sounds better in the original German. Another piece of vintage Coke memorabilia, to give you an even more delicious frisson of…dare we call it…schadenfreude?

SIEG HEIL, UBERMENSCHEN!!

It would take a heart of stone not to laugh, wouldn’t it? More thirst-quenching goodness:

Coca-Cola was a major presence in Nazi Germany, even though officials in the Reich were said to believe the stuff was too frivolous for the German character. Nevertheless, the very American nature of the product (wealth, flashy dreams, etc.) appealed too much to the German public and the stuff was kept around. It wasn’t until 1942 that the company’s presence in the nation was seriously threatened.

Coca-Cola’s hundreds of bottling plants in Germany were naturally cut off from main American support when America entered World War II. But Max Keith, the representative of the company in Germany at the time, redubbed the product “Fanta” for Reich consumption. The bottling factories and processing plant were then used to provide Germany’s citizens a key element to keep their energy up to support the war effort: A supply of sugar above what the government rationed to them. After the war, Keith, in an amazing display of company loyalty, turned over the wartime profits to the parent company when the Allied armies arrived, when surely the gigantic amount of inevitable post-war confusion and complication would have allowed him to sneak off with it.

Back to the first piece for more yet:

Does Coca-Cola not highlight its financial history with Nazi Germany when crowing about its racial purity tests today? Or the fact that Germany’s inconvenient declaration of war against the United States made it sufficiently difficult for Coca-Cola to maintain its prominent reputation within the Reich that the company’s German representatives repurposed the operations of hundreds of bottling plants toward the production of a new drink called Fanta to serve thirsty German soldiers throughout the war? Does the Coca-Cola Company not brag about Fanta’s wartime genesis as a Nazi beverage? How strange.

One would think that a company so dedicated to rooting out “white supremacy” that it forces its white employees into racial re-education training seminars would first want to take a hard look at its own rather awkward historical relationship with actual white supremacists intent on building a world-dominating “master race.” That’s what “racial justice” requires, right — the punishment of one generation of Americans for the sins of generations past? So why should Coca-Cola’s questionable corporate history be off-limits when it goes out of its way to demonize white Americans for no other reason than the color of their skin?

On the other hand, everything about Coca-Cola’s racial indoctrination program today sounds as if it could be ripped right from the pages of Nazi Germany’s own race laws, with Jews and other “undesirables” being crossed out and “whites” scribbled in their place. All the racial animosity that nearly destroyed humanity last century is back in “woke” form, and some of the same companies that underestimated the Nazi threat then are underestimating the evil intent of the new racialist agendas that are taking over the corporate world today.

Let’s just be honest here: racial animosity never really went away, and it’s never going to. It can be shunned, it can be made socially unacceptable, it can be suppressed or denied. But down deep, in one way or another, preference for one’s own breed and distrust and/or distaste for those outside it will always be around. Tribalism, clannishness, and hostility to The Other are all simply innate with us humans, an ineradicable part of our nature. The only truly new phenomenon here is the bone-deep audacity of Woke execs shamelessly sermonizing at everybody else on the very sins their own corporate entity is but mere decades away from having been guilty of itself.

Fret not, though; I’m sure that, despite the blasé shrugging whenever some fed-to-the-gills Southron declines to shoulder the full weight of responsibility for a long-defunct Peculiar Institution he had nothing to do with personally via pointing at the unjust foolishness of condemning the long-dead past according to present-day standards, Hitler-Cola execs will feel no more shame about resorting to that same defense than they do about constantly lecturing non-shitlibs on their abominable politics. Naturally, their Komrades will be more than happy to play right along with the ruse, too.

Which only makes it all the more vital that we all point at Coca Cola’s Executive Suite shitweasels and just laugh, laugh, laugh.

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