GIVE TIL IT HURTS!

The revolution is not being televised

It’s playing out on Twitter. At least, the mass-communications, Jurassic Media Vs New Media front of it is.

‘Curiosity Is The Gravest Crime’: Tucker Carlson Returns And Tears Media To Shreds For Ukraine Coverage
Former Fox News host and Daily Caller co-founder Tucker Carlson brought his show to Twitter for the first time Tuesday by posting a monologue about the Ukraine war and how the media is covering it.

“This morning, it looks like somebody blew up the Kakhovka Dam in southern Ukraine. The rushing wall of water wiped out entire villages, destroyed a critical hydropower plant, and as of tonight, puts the largest nuclear reactor in Europe in danger of melting down. So, if this was intentional, it was not a military tactic — it was an act of terrorism,” Carlson began.

The Ukrainian and Russian governments accused each other of intentionally destroying the dam as an act of sabotage, according to The Washington Post.

“Blowing up the dam may be bad for Ukraine, but it hurts Russia more. And for precisely that reason, the Ukrainian government has considered destroying it. In December, The Washington Post quoted a Ukrainian general saying his men had fired American-made rockets at the dam’s floodgate, as a test strike,” Carlson stated.

Carlson transitioned to discussing The Washington Post’s story showing the U.S. knew about Ukrainian plans to attack the Nord Stream 2 gas pipeline months before it was destroyed. The Post’s story was based on an intelligence leak on social media platform Discord.

Carlson pointed to the intelligence officer who blew the whistle Monday on alleged UFOs possessed by the U.S. government as a recent example of the pressing stories the media ignores.

“So if you’re wondering why our country seems so dysfunctional, this is a big part of the reason. Nobody knows what’s happening. A small group of people control accesses to all relevant information. And the rest of us don’t know. We’re allowed to yap all we want about racism, but go ahead and talk about something that really matters and see what happens. If you keep it up, they’ll make you be quiet. Trust us. That’s how they maintain control,” he continued.

Carlson concluded his monologue with a teaser about future Twitter broadcasts if the platform maintains its commitment to free speech under owner Elon Musk.

“That’s how most of us now live here in the United States — manipulated by lies, silenced by taboos. It is unhealthy and is dehumanizing, and we’re tired of it. As of today, we’ve come to Twitter, which we hope will be the shortwave radio under the blankets. We’re told there are no gatekeepers here. If that turns out to be false, we’ll leave. But in the meantime, we are grateful to be here. We’ll be back with much more very soon.”

I know the White Supremacist, ((((JOOOOJOOOOJOOOOOOO!!!!)))-obsessed loons out there despise Tucker as what they stupidly mislabel a “Cuck,” since he’s never frittered away a minute of his on-air time to rant about the “dire need” to unite with our natural allies in Iran, Yemen, and Ethiopa to finally destroy Israel once and for all, or the “inevitable” establishment of an exclusively White Pagan nation on the continental US, but nobody cares what those idiots “think” about anything anyway.

Tucker’s inaugural Twitter ep got over a million views in twenty minutes, and last time I looked a little while ago was closing fast on 90,000,000 (90 MILLION!) of ‘em. Hearty congrats to Tucker and Elon both; they’re at the forefront of a bona-fide revolution in communications media, and I for one am happy to see it. Oh yeah, the vid itself? Rat cheer, folks.


Chutzpahcrisy update! They wouldn’t dare, would they? Oh yes, they most certainly would.

REPORT: Tucker Carlson Accused Of Contract Breach By Fox News Lawyers
Daily Caller co-founder Tucker Carlson was accused by Fox News lawyers on Wednesday of violating his contract with the network by launching his new show on Twitter, Axios reports.

Fox News general counsel Bernard Gugar sent Carlson’s attorneys a letter shortly after his Twitter broadcast stating that Carlson “is in breach” of his contract, according to Axios. “In connection with such breach and pursuant to the Agreement, Fox expressly reserves all rights and remedies which are available to it at law or equity,” the letter reads, per the outlet.

His video racked up nearly 90 million Twitter views in 24 hours and immediately made Carlson a trending topic on the platform. At the end of the monologue, Carlson promised future Twitter broadcasts as long as the platform maintained its commitment to free speech.

Prior to his departure, Carlson was Fox News’ highest rated host and consistently achieved the highest ratings on cable news.

Carlson is also alleging breach of contract, with his lawyer accusing a Fox News board member of “engaging in an attempted smear campaign by illegally leaking information about Tucker Carlson.”

Whatever pitiful, tattered shreds of credibility Faux “News” had left with 90 million+ Real Americans, they just flushed down the shitter for good. Brilliant move, shitlib Sooperdoopergenii.

Speaking to them in the only language they’ll ever understand

Ie, swift and blinding violence.


No word on whether the idiot Climate Change (formerly Global Warming, formerly Global Cooling, formerly The Weather)™ “protesters” were permanently maimed or not, but one can always hope. Via Ace.

The soldier’s faith

Excerpts from a Memorial Day, 1895 speech given to that year’s Harvard graduating class by Massachusetts SC justice Oliver Wendell Holmes.

The society for which many philanthropists, labor reformers, and men of fashion unite in longing is one in which they may be comfortable and may shine without much trouble or any danger. The unfortunately growing hatred of the poor for the rich seems to me to rest on the belief that money is the main thing (a belief in which the poor have been encouraged by the rich), more than on any other grievance. Most of my hearers would rather that their daughters or their sisters should marry a son of one of the great rich families than a regular army officer, were he as beautiful, brave, and gifted as Sir William Napier. I have heard the question asked whether our war was worth fighting, after all. There are many, poor and rich, who think that love of country is an old wife’s tale, to be replaced by interest in a labor union, or, under the name of cosmopolitanism, by a rootless self-seeking search for a place where the most enjoyment may be had at the least cost.

Meantime we have learned the doctrine that evil means pain, and the revolt aginst pain in all its forms has grown more and more marked. From societies for the prevention of cruelty to animals up to socialism, we express in numberless ways the notion that suffering is a wrong which can be and ought to be prevented, and a whole literature of sympathy has sprung into being which points out in story and in verse how hard it is to be wounded in the battle of life, how terrible, how unjust it is that any one should fail.

Even science has had its part in the tendencies which we observe. It has shaken established religion in the minds of very many. It has pursued analysis until at last this thrilling world of colors and passions and sounds has seemed fatally to resolve itself into one vast network of vibrations endlessly weaving an aimless web, and the rainbow flush of cathedral windows, which once to enraptured eyes appeared the very smile of God, fades slowly out into the pale irony of the void.

And yet from vast orchestras still comes the music of mighty symphonies. Our painters even now are spreading along the walls of our Library glowing symbols of mysteries still real, and the hardly silenced cannon of the East proclaim once more that combat and pain still are the portion of man. For my own part, I believe that the struggle for life is the order of the world, at which it is vain to repine. I can imagine the burden changed in the way it is to be borne, but I cannot imagine that it ever will be lifted from men’s backs. I can imagine a future in which science shall have passed from the combative to the dogmatic stage, and shall have gained such catholic acceptance that it shall take control of life, and condemn at once with instant execution what now is left for nature to destroy. But we are far from such a future, and we cannot stop to amuse or to terrify ourselves with dreams. Now, at least, and perhaps as long as man dwells upon the globe, his destiny is battle, and he has to take the chances of war. If it is our business to fight, the book for the army is a war-song, not a hospital-sketch. It is not well for soldiers to think much about wounds. Sooner or later we shall fall; but meantime it is for us to fix our eyes upon the point to be stormed, and to get there if we can.

Behind every scheme to make the world over, lies the question, What kind of world do you want? The ideals of the past for men have been drawn from war, as those for women have been drawn from motherhood. For all our prophecies, I doubt if we are ready to give up our inheritance. Who is there who would not like to be thought a gentleman? Yet what has that name been built on but the soldier’s choice of honor rather than life? To be a soldier or descended from soldiers, in time of peace to be ready to give one’s life rather than suffer disgrace, that is what the word has meant; and if we try to claim it at less cost than a splendid carelessness for life, we are trying to steal the good will without the responsibilities of the place. We will not dispute about tastes. The man of the future may want something different. But who of us could endure a world, although cut up into five-acre lots, and having no man upon it who was not well fed and well housed, without the divine folly of honor, without the senseless passion for knowledge outreaching the flaming bounds of the possible, without ideals the essence of which is that they can never be achieved? I do not know what is true. I do not know the meaning of the universe. But in the midst of doubt, in the collapse of creeds, there is one thing I do not doubt, that no man who lives in the same world with most of us can doubt, and that is that the faith is true and adorable which leads a soldier to throw away his life in obedience to a blindly accepted duty, in a cause which he little understands, in a plan of campaign of which he has little notion, under tactics of which he does not see the use.

Most men who know battle know the cynic force with which the thoughts of common sense will assail them in times of stress; but they know that in their greatest moments faith has trampled those thoughts under foot. If you wait in line, suppose on Tremont Street Mall, ordered simply to wait and do nothing, and have watched the enemy bring their guns to bear upon you down a gentle slope like that of Beacon Street, have seen the puff of the firing, have felt the burst of the spherical case-shot as it came toward you, have heard and seen the shrieking fragments go tearing through your company, and have known that the next or the next shot carries your fate; if you have advanced in line and have seen ahead of you the spot you must pass where the rifle bullets are striking; if you have ridden at night at a walk toward the blue line of fire at the dead angle of Spotsylvania, where for twenty-four hours the soldiers were fighting on the two sides of an earthwork, and in the morning the dead and dying lay piled in a row six deep, and as you rode you heard the bullets splashing in the mud and earth about you; if you have been in the picket-line at night in a black and unknown wood, have heard the splat of the bullets upon the trees, and as you moved have felt your foot slip upon a dead man’s body; if you have had a blind fierce gallop against the enemy, with your blood up and a pace that left no time for fear –if, in short, as some, I hope many, who hear me, have known, you have known the vicissitudes of terror and triumph in war; you know that there is such a thing as the faith I spoke of. You know your own weakness and are modest; but you know that man has in him that unspeakable somewhat which makes him capable of miracle, able to lift himself by the might of his own soul, unaided, able to face anniliation for a blind belief.

War, when you are at it, is horrible and dull. It is only when time has passed that you see that its message was divine. I hope it may be long before we are called again to sit at that master’s feet. But some teacher of the kind we all need. In this snug, over-safe corner of the world we need it, that we may realize that our comfortable routine is no eternal necessity of things, but merely a little space of calm in the midst of the tempestuous untamed streaming of the world, and in order that we may be ready for danger. We need it in this time of individualist negations, with its literature of French and American humor, revolting at discipline, loving flesh-pots, and denying that anything is worthy of reverence–in order that we may remember all that buffoons forget. We need it everywhere and at all times. For high and dangerous action teaches us to believe as right beyond dispute things for which our doubting minds are slow to find words of proof. Out of heroism grows faith in the worth of heroism. The proof comes later, and even may never come. Therefore I rejoice at every dangerous sport which I see pursued. The students at Heidelberg, with their sword-slashed faces, inspire me with sincere respect. I gaze with delight upon our polo players. If once in a while in our rough riding a neck is broken, I regard it, not as a waste, but as a price well paid for the breeding of a race fit for headship and command.

We do not save our traditions, in our country. The regiments whose battle-flags were not large enough to hold the names of the battles they had fought vanished with the surrender of Lee, although their memories inherited would have made heroes for a century. It is the more necessary to learn the lesson afresh from perils newly sought, and perhaps it is not vain for us to tell the new generation what we learned in our day, and what we still believe. That the joy of life is living, is to put out all one’s powers as far as they will go; that the measure of power is obstacles overcome; to ride boldly at what is in front of you, be it fence or enemy; to pray, not for comfort, but for combat; to keep the soldier’s faith against the doubts of civil life, more besetting and harder to overcome than all the misgivings of the battlefield, and to remember that duty is not to be proved in the evil day, but then to be obeyed unquestioning; to love glory more than the temptations of wallowing ease, but to know that one’s final judge and only rival is oneself: with all our failures in act and thought, these things we learned from noble enemies in Virginia or Georgia or on the Mississippi, thirty years ago; these things we believe to be true.

As for us, our days of combat are over. Our swords are rust. Our guns will thunder no more. The vultures that once wheeled over our heads must be buried with their prey. Whatever of glory must be won in the council or the closet, never again in the field. I do not repine. We have shared the incommunicable experience of war; we have felt, we still feel, the passion of life to its top.

Three years ago died the old colonel of my regiment, the Twentieth Massachusetts. [Web note: Col. William Raymond Lee] He gave the regiment its soul. No man could falter who heard his “Forward, Twentieth!” I went to his funeral. From a side door of the church a body of little choir-boys came in alike a flight of careless doves. At the same time the doors opened at the front, and up the main aisle advanced his coffin, followed by the few grey heads who stood for the men of the Twentieth, the rank and file whom he had loved, and whom he led for the last time. The church was empty. No one remembered the old man whom we were burying, no one save those next to him, and us. And I said to myself, The Twentieth has shrunk to a skeleton, a ghost, a memory, a forgotten name which we other old men alone keep in our hearts. And then I thought: It is right. It is as the colonel would have it. This also is part of the soldier’s faith: Having known great things, to be content with silence. Just then there fell into my hands a little song sung by a warlike people on the Danube, which seemed to me fit for a soldier’s last word, another song of the sword, but a song of the sword in its scabbard, a song of oblivion and peace.

A soldier has been buried on the battlefield.
And when the wind in the tree-tops roared,
The soldier asked from the deep dark grave:
“Did the banner flutter then?”
“Not so, my hero,” the wind replied.
“The fight is done, but the banner won,
Thy comrades of old have borne it hence,
Have borne it in triumph hence.”
Then the soldier spake from the deep dark grave:
“I am content.”

Then he heareth the lovers laughing pass,
and the soldier asks once more:
“Are these not the voices of them that love,
That love—and remember me?”
“Not so, my hero,” the lovers say,
“We are those that remember not;
For the spring has come and the earth has smiled,
And the dead must be forgot.”
Then the soldier spake from the deep dark grave:
“I am content.”

Stirring, powerful stuff, no? So powerful, in fact, that after Teddy Roosevelt read it seven years later, he was moved enough to decide to appoint Holmes to the US Supreme Court. The wisdom expressed in these words is profound, the fundamental truth timeless, eternal. We fail to pay heed to them at our direst peril.

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1

Coolest line in history?

I’d say it is, yeah.

What is the coolest line in history?
Battle of the Bulge. Winter. 1944. An entire American armored division flees from a massive German onslaught. Trundling down the road, a tank pulls up to a lone Private First Class in a snow covered foxhole. The commander yells, down to the PFC in the foxhole.

“The entire German Army is headed this way! We’re retreating!”

“Are you looking for a safe place?”, replied PFC Martin.

“Yes!”

“Well, pull your tank behind this foxhole. Because I’m the 82nd Airborne and this is as far as the bastards are going.”

Yep, it’s the coolest for sure, easily putting Tony McAuliffe’s “NUTS!” response during the Battle of the Ardennes in the shade—which, y’know, is really saying something. There’s also a pic, which I had no little trouble trying to figure out how to download for attachment to this h’yar post. But in the end, my Web-Fu proved the stronger. Thus:

82ndAirborneLine

Heh. And now you know why they called ‘em “dogfaces” back in the Big One, WW2. The look on that GI’s mug is about as surly, pissed off, and just all-round fed-up and determined as I hope (n)ever to see. Uncle Adolf would’ve pissed himself if he’d awakened late one night to find a face like that coming in through the bedroom window after his sick, sorry ass.

Update! A bit more interesting schtuff from the above-linked McAuliffe story, which you may or may not have known about already.

IT WAS MID-morning on Dec. 22, 1944 when U.S. troops manning the defences of the besieged Belgian town of Bastogne watched as four German soldiers – a major, a captain and two enlisted men – approached under a large white flag.

The four-man enemy delegation called on all U.S. forces in Bastogne to surrender within two hours or face “total annihilation” by German artillery.

Technical Sgt. Oswald Butler and Staff Sgt. Carl Dickinson of F Company, 327th Glider Infantry, and medic Pfc Ernest Premetz stepped out to meet them.

The men blindfolded the Germans and escorted them to an abandoned house serving as F Company’s command post.

When presented with the surrender demand, the 101st commander, Brigadier General Anthony C. McAuliffe, laughed at very notion of surrender. In his opinion his men were giving the Germans “one hell of a beating” and felt the enemy demand was out of line with the existing situation.

“Aw, nuts,” he blurted out.

Nevertheless, McAuliffe realized that some kind of reply had to be made and he sat down to think it over.

After several minutes he admitted to his officers that he didn’t know how to respond.

One officer, a lieutenant-colonel named Harry Kinnard, offered a suggestion.

“You said ‘Nuts!’” he observed, suggesting that be the reply.

The idea drew applause from everyone present. And so McAuliffe decided to send that very message back to the Germans: “Nuts!”

A colonel named Harper eagerly volunteered to deliver it to the German officers in person.

“It will be a lot of fun,” he said.

“I have the commander’s reply,” he said giving the enemy delegates the note.

“If you don’t understand what ‘nuts’ means, in plain English it’s the same as ‘go to hell,’” Harper explained wryly. “And I will tell you something else – if you continue to attack we will kill every goddam German that tries to break into this city.’

At that, the German major and captain saluted very stiffly and turned to leave.

“We will kill many Americans,” the junior of the two officers said as they left. “This is war.”

Historians believed that it was the German high command sent their officers to Bastogne with the surrender demand. Yet in unearthed interviews with Allied interrogators, General Hasso von Manteufel, commander of the 5th Panzer Army, admitted that was not the case. In fact, he was surprised to learn that the ultimatum was even offered.

“Panzer Lehr Division sent a parlementaire to Bastogne without my authorization,” von Manteufel would later say. “The demand to surrender was refused, as was to be expected. I did not authorize the surrender demand which was made of the Bastogne garrison, and I am still not sure exactly who did authorize [it].”

More even from there, all of it damned good. There truly were giants walking among us in those days.

Updated update! I could very well be remembering this wrong, and probably am, but as I recollect it was the 101st AID which was involved in the Battle of the Bulge, not the 82nd. Who knows, though, maybe it was both. NOTE: Upon further digging, it appears that there may indeed have been units from both AID’s at Bastogne. Never mind.

3

Over the target

Taking flak.

Disney CEO Bob Iger rips Ron DeSantis over Florida battle: ‘It’s a matter of retaliation’

Why yes, it most certainly is at that. So? Sit back and suck on it then, you twisted, pedophilia-pimping fucksickle.

He’s the Mouse that roared.

Disney boss Bob Iger slammed Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis on Wednesday in the escalating tit-for-tat over the special tax district that oversees the company’s Orlando theme parks.

“This is about one thing and one thing only: them retaliating against us,” Iger said during a call with investors after the Mouse House reporting second-quarter earnings in line with Wall Street estimates.

“Does the state want us to invest more, employ more people, pay more taxes or not?”

Not exactly, no, or not entirely anyway. It wants you to stay in your lane as a business and keep your stunted, withered little wang out of the political arena, thanks. Quite rightly too, I might add. You decided to test the limits of the Disney Corp’s sweetheart deal which placed the Corp outside the purview of the duly-established State and local governments, and you fucking lost. Next time, consider waiting until you can fuck around with a less-politically astute, less-feisty governor, that’s my advice. Failing that, find out.

For my money, the truly salient point here is DeSantis’s refusing to daintily tiptoe around a giant multinational corporation based on some sort of misbegotten Repugnican “principle.” We’re well past the point where slavishly hewing to “principle” is ever going to get us a goddamned thing. So to hell with principle, I say.

In any fight with a thuggish bully who’s flush with victory after victory against the Marquess of Queensberry, unilaterally sticking to the Queensberry rules yourself is a mug’s game. Yes, yes, principles are fine things to have…right up until you find yourself in a bloody street brawl against an opponent who recognizes no rules whatsoever.

“Losing honorably,” after all, is still losing. When winning is a matter of life and death, literally existential, then it’s time to recognize that the one, the only meaningful imperative becomes survival. Far better to “win dishonorably,” if you must. And that’s precisely where we are now; if “principle” still means more to you than the permanent defeat and extinguishing of those selfsame principles, then in my view your thinking is badly, badly skewed, and you probably deserve to lose.

3

Never too old to rock and roll

Divemedic recounts the incredible story of a bona fide American hero—a valiant and doughty warrior I’ve written about here myself. DM includes some aspects of the story, most notably a memorable quote, that I hadn’t heard before.

There are so many times that I have heard people, including myself, say that we are getting too old for the conflicts that are to come. It’s easy to think that the trials that we all see as inevitable are for young men, and let’s face it, many of us cannot consider ourselves to be young any longer. So let’s take comfort in the story of Samuel Whittemore.

Comfort? I hardly see it as comforting. Confers a YUGE burden of responsibility, and imposes a very real debt of awestruck gratitude, more like. At the very least, Whittemore’s story is enormously humbling for any present-day Real American with half a lick of sense and a knowledge of US history.

Anyways. Onwards.

Samuel was not a young man when he enlisted in the Third Massachusetts Regiment and fought the French in Canada. He was 49 years old when he killed a French officer and took his sword as a war trophy.

Mr. Whittemore wasn’t done. He fought again against Chief Pontiac in the Great Lakes region at 67 years old as he led troops against the French and Indians. During that conflict, he took a pair of dueling pistols as war trophies.

For the next decade or so, he became a respected leader in the civic arena. He lobbied against the government, speaking out and being a general pain in the ass. He protested the government’s actions, complaining about this and that, went to meetings of government, and represented his town as a member of the Committee of Correspondence. That was how it came to be that, in 1772, Whittemore was one of the three contributors to Cambridge, Massachusetts’ statement in objection to the Tea Act:

If we cease to assert Our rights we shall dwindle into supineness and the chains of slavery shall be fast rivetted upon us 

Then came the day when Samuel Whittemore’s family found him in his farm’s field, lying in a pool of blood, and even the town’s doctor didn’t believe that he would survive. British soldiers had left Samuel Whittemore in a pool of blood alongside a stone wall in Menotomy, Mass. after shooting the old farmer in the face, then bayoneted him at least six times and clubbed him, apparently, to death as they retreated from the skirmish at Lexington and Concord on April 19, 1775. Samuel was 78 years old.

Located near him were the bodies of three British soldiers: one shot by a musket, another by a dueling pistol, and a third run through with an ornate French sword.

Samuel survived that day, against all odds, and lived to the ripe old age of 96. He is currently buried in Arlington, Massachusetts.

This is the reason why we stand for the National Anthem, to honor men such as this.

Indubitably so. It’s to our everlasting disgrace that, were you to ask any random “American” schoolkid nowadays, he/she/its/zhir/zhimz would have no idea who Samuel Whittemore even was. Hell, he/she/its/zhir/zhimz parents wouldn’t know either. I very much doubt whether their teachers would.

As Founding Father Patrick Henry so unforgettably implored the flock at St John’s Church in Richmond:

Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves. Sir, we have done everything that could be done, to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne. In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free, if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending, if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained, we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the God of Hosts is all that is left us!

They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance, by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power.

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!

Amen. May we all draw strength from history, from the deeds of our glorious forebears; may we resolve to live up to their illustrious example. May the memory of that history, that example, never fade from our hearts and minds. In awakening Real Americans from their long, torporous slumber, Leftards know not what they have done. Let them reap the whirlwind, then, in fullest possible measure.

6

Tucker’s bridge too far

Was Carlson’s Heritage speech a cpl weeks ago, in particular his references to Christianity and “evil,” the straw that broke Murdoch’s back, so to speak?

The veteran television host and journalist, whose Fox News show attracts millions of viewers every evening, remarked at an event for the Heritage Foundation that fellow conservatives must swiftly adjust their approaches to the national conversation since some political forces desire to tear down the nation rather than engage in legitimate political dialogue.

“We write our papers and they write their papers, and may the best papers win. I don’t think that’s what we’re watching now at all. I don’t think we’re watching a debate on how to get to the best outcome. I think that’s completely wrong,” Carlson said. “There is no way to assess, say, the transgenderist movement with that mindset. Policy papers don’t account for it at all. If you have people who are saying, ‘I have an idea, let’s castrate the next generation, let’s sexually mutilate children,’ I’m sorry, that’s not a political debate. That has nothing to do with politics.”

Carlson likewise described such a sentiment as a “theological phenomenon” that fundamentally cannot be considered a rational policy position. “And that’s kind of the point I’m making: none of this makes sense in conventional political terms,” he added. “What you’re watching is not a political movement. It’s evil.”

Carlson told the Heritage Foundation audience that older conservatives must shift their mindset in order to effectively engage in the current political arena. “I’m just noting what’s super obvious. Those of us who are in our mid-50s are caught in the past on how we think about this,” he remarked. “One side’s like, ‘I’ve got this idea, and we have this idea, and let’s have a debate about our ideas.’ They don’t want a debate. Those ideas won’t produce outcomes that any rational person would want under any circumstances. Those are manifestations of some larger force acting upon us.”

Despite multiple self-deprecating remarks about his affiliation with the Episcopal Church, a communion widely regarded for socially and theologically liberal standpoints, Carlson noted that Americans should turn to heaven for hope as the nation’s foundations collapse. “Maybe we should all just take 10 minutes per day to say a prayer about it,” he concluded. “And I’m saying that to you not as some kind of evangelist. I’m literally saying that to you as an Episcopalian.”

Tucker’s right as rain, whether it harelips every cannibal liberal on the Congo Potomac or not, and there’s just no way around it. Praying to the Almighty for deliverance from Their Satanic Majesties is well and good, of course, and can never be a bad thing. But soon or late, every decent Normal American will be forced to ponder the practical application of Algernon Sidney’s well-known aphorism: God helps those who help themselves.

9

The plane that wouldn’t die

Tell me, oh Magic Eight Ball: Is the indomitable, perenially-awesome, so-ugly-it’s-beautiful Fairchild-Republic A10 Thunderbolt II the best damned combat aircraft the US has ever fielded? Signs point to YES.

A-10s Return to Middle East with a New Mission, and a New Weapon
Tensions with Iran, Russia have CENTCOM calling upon the venerable Warthog once again.

A squadron of A-10 Thunderbolt II attack jets, specially modified to nearly triple their bomb loads, has been dispatched to the Middle East to boost U.S. airpower in the region amid increased tensions with Iran-backed forces in Syria.

With each plane carrying four SDB (Small Diameter Bombs—M) bomb racks, a flight of four A-10s could bomb up to 64 ground targets, a nearly three-fold increase. Each plane can also carry laser-guided rockets along with its famed 30mm tankbusting gun.

“That’s a lot of targets that you can hit from an air-to-ground perspective,” Grynkewich said.

The rugged attack jet also gives commanders more flexibility because it can fly from short or dirt runways.

“We would be able to maneuver [the A-10] very rapidly to different locations and show an ability to do strike operations that really would be very difficult to to counter in any meaningful way should things escalate,” he said.

The A-10 could also be used to patrol the Strait of Hormuz, where Iranian go-fast boats have harassed warships and tankers.

“There certainly are maritime threats that are out there that are promulgated by the Iranians,” Grynkewich said. “The A-10 brings you a capability that can counter that, as well—kinetically if necessary with those rockets and the gun.”

Designed in the 1970s as a specialized ground-assault weapon, the A-10 has won the love of generations of infantry. Protected by a “bathtub” of cockpit armor, Warthog pilots fly slow and low, eyeballing their targets before ripping into them with copious armament. But Air Force leaders have spent decades trying to win Congressional permission to retire the twinjet. They call it a sitting duck for modern air defenses, and they say stealthier, higher-flying, more lightly armed fighter jets can do the job. Earlier this year, Chief of Staff Gen. CQ Brown said the last A-10s would be gone by decade’s end.

Grynkewich’s command is also responding to a call from CENTCOM’s Kurilla to be more innovative. Air Forces Central aims to experiment with the A-10’s ability to shoot down enemy drones. Since the A-10 lacks a radar, officials plan to use a network of U.S. and allied radars to guide the attack jets to their uncrewed targets. The Warthog could then use its infrared targeting pod to engage a drone with heat-seeking missiles or laser-guided rockets, Grynkewich said.

Is there ANYTHING the ‘Hog can’t do? Apparently not. Stout, amazingly versatile, a-bristle with ferocious lethality—she’s a credit to her noble lineage and her namesake, no doubt about it.

Update! So in the comments, I said this to Steve:

Pretty sure I’ve told this story before here, but back when the band was regularly traveling from NC to NYC for shows, we always took the back way up the spine of the Shenandoah on 81, through Harrisburg, and then on into a stretch paralleling a mountainous area with a USANG base close by (Fort Indiantown Gap, I believe it was). The base had A10s attached, and quite often we’d see a flight of ‘Hogs practicing attack weaves, crisscrossing low and slow from one side of the mountains up over the crest to the other and back again.

We’d all watch this airshow completely spellbound, which is when it occurred to me how truly awful it must be to be a ground-pounding camel-humper being hunted by one of those truly magnificent bastards. Bet there’s been whole damned laundry-trucks’ worth of djellabahs ended up smeared in fresh-squeezed shit by guys in that unenviable position. If not, then they were just too stupid to live anyhow.

Just for shits and giggles, I poked around some when what to my wondering eyes did appear but this choice vid:

And dammit, that’s IT, the spontaneous, unannounced “airshow” we looked forward to seeing on every trip up to the Rotten Apple. Hell yeah! How fuckin’ cool is THAT?

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God created man; Sam Colt made them equal

Should you buy a gun? OF COURSE you should, dumbass.

Progressives Convinced Us to Get a Gun
It’s hypocritical to urge Americans to disarm while also failing to protect them from surging crime rates.

Hypocritical? Nah, not quite. It’s EVIL, is what it is.

When I was growing up on the South Side of Chicago in the late 1950s, almost every boy had one treasured possession: a holster with two six-shooters. It was the essential toy for playing Cowboys and Indians, the most popular game in town. Regrettably at the time, my brother and I didn’t get in on the fun. Our father wouldn’t allow it.

He had his reasons: In depriving us of the revolvers, he often would cite his experience during World War II. Our father served in the French army

Ah, it all begins to make sense now.

and, as a member of an artillery regiment, fought the Nazis when they marched into Belgium. During that service, a rifle shot grazed the back of his neck and came close to taking his life. He made it clear that, having been wounded and seen the horrors wrought by firearms, he didn’t believe anyone should think of such weapons as playthings.

No sensible adult does, fool. As for kids disporting themselves at Cowboys and Injuns out in the backyard—Jeez O Pete, man!

 

Onwards.

Though as a child I sometimes resented not fitting in with my friends, I grew to accept that firearms were terrible devices that didn’t belong in our lives. As an adult, for many years I supported banning guns among civilians, even contemplating the merits of repealing the Second Amendment.

As the twig is bent…

But some months ago my thinking changed again. Today, my wife has a gun that she keeps in our home. She has the necessary permits from the authorities and has trained extensively in using the gun safely. Growing up, I never imagined I would have a firearm at home. But I am reassured to have one, even if I’ve never held it myself.

Our decision to acquire a gun is due to the recent release of the man who bludgeoned my wife’s younger sister to death several decades ago. My wife fears that the murderer, released from prison during the Covid-19 pandemic by New York state’s board of parole, poses a potential threat to us.

But our decision also is due to society’s current dysfunction. Crime is surging in our city—Washington—and around the country. Vagrants wander the streets, police are reluctant to tackle criminals, and courts seem unwilling to impose serious sentences on those who break the law. Given these circumstances, owning a gun seems to be one of the few ways to feel even a semblance of personal safety. There is an irony that policies progressives espouse, such as gun control, have prompted us to have a gun in our home.

Progressives nationwide have attacked police and law enforcement, alleging that our legal system is systemically racist and oppressive. They have caused recidivist criminals to haunt our streets and commit more crimes—and have refused to deal with homelessness in spite of the mental illness and drug addictions that so often afflict our cities’ most vulnerable. Numerous efforts to reduce the use of drugs have been rebuffed in the name, of course, of racism.

This approach has unleashed a crime wave and diminished our sense of safety on the streets. It is, therefore, unsurprising to see ever more law-abiding people seeking to arm themselves. As a result, there will be more guns out there, including in the hands of people who should never be near them.

To limit guns in America, much as my father wished, policy makers should focus on the underlying problems that are generating a spike in crime.

As always with leg-wetting hoplophobes, this sort of “thinking” is completely out of whack. “Limiting guns in America” is NOT a goal worth pursuing, based as it is entirely on ignorance, fear, and personal cowardice. In addition, it not only directly conflicts with the plainly-worded 2A, it also contravenes the values of individual self-determination, liberty, and personal responsibility upon which the Republic itself was originally Founded.

So how is it, then, that tremulous, antigun feebs dare to presume that, rather than scorning them for their pathetic neuroses, free Americans instead must bow to them and indulge their irrational phobias?

Sure, there should be more effort made towards reining in the crime currently rampaging and ruining US cities. At the same time, acknowledgment of a certain hard, immutable fact of life on this here planet must be made: Crime will never be eradicated completely. This is what we call part of the human condition; it will always be with us. Same-same for tyranny, which is the actual reason our Founding Fathers saw fit to feature the Second so prominently in the Constitution.

Those truths being self-evident, there can be but one reasonable way to look at the persistent shitlib obssession with doing away with the one truly effective means of resistance against crime and tyranny both: it is not merely wrong, not merely stupid, but actively, literally evil. Anything less is nothing but a comforting deceit we tell ourselves, as a balm for our collective lethargy in confronting it as it ought to be confronted.

All that said, I’m happy for this guy that they finally got a gun. But that’s only the start of it. Now, with a gun in the home, he needs to do himself a big, fat favor and emulate his obviously-intelligent wife: get to the local range; train with it; practice with it; get schooled on how to break it down and clean it (inquire about that at either the range or the local gun shop; you’ll find yourself astonished at the number of friendly, more experienced shooters who will be just pleased as punch to help you out). Learn as much about how y’all’s new firearm functions and the proper care and maintenance of it as you possibly can. It’s all part and parcel of the responsible-gun-owner experience, any one of which items you neglect at your own peril.

Education, see, is one of those “forever” kind of things; it never really ends, which is only meet and just.

(Via Insty)

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Modern-day Tea Party

A look at the historical roots of The Butt Light Rebellion.

Here in 21st century America, where we were once asked to tolerate alternative lifestyles, we are now required to celebrate them. Refusal to do so can result in an individual being effectively cancelled from participation in society. We are forced to bow in obedience to the woke monarchy. Well, Americans have had enough. And they are figuratively throwing Bud Light overboard as a statement of defiance to the woke ruling class.

Don’t forget, the original tea party extended beyond Boston Harbor. British ships carrying tea were also blocked at other US ports including Philadelphia and New York. The tea rebellion against Great Britain spread across the colonies, moving them closer to independence, just like the Bud Light Tea Party is a nationwide event in the battle to free us from woke tyranny.

In response to this beer boycott, America’s ruling class has been snarking that this all shows just how bigoted conservatives are, as if this is simply about Anheuser Busch hiring a cross-dressing man to become the face of their beer. No, it’s so much more than that.

It’s partly that people are fed up with the denigration of women – as if being a woman is nothing more than wearing lipstick, a dress and a handbag. But it’s more than that.

It’s also partly the fact that our ruling class despises the average American, as evidenced by the fact that the Bud Light marketing VP who hired Mulvaney was quite open about her contempt for Bud Light’s loyal customer base. But it’s more than that too.

As Dana Loesch notes, the rebellion against Bud Light is also about the erasure of women with such ugly terms as “menstruating people” and “chest feeders.” The rebellion against Bud Light is about the invasion of women’s private spaces by biological men.

To make another historical analogy, the massive backlash against Bud Light is akin to the Texian army at San Jacinto. After a long, humiliating retreat its soldiers suddenly found themselves in position to go on offense, screaming “Remember the Alamo! Remember Goliad!” as they took revenge against Santa Anna’s army.

Now the battle cry might be “Remember Loudoun County! Remember Riley Gaines!”

In Amerika v2.0, the list of “a long train of abuses and usurpations…to reduce them under Absolute Despotism” is far too long to remember all of it, much less boil them down into a handful of pithy motivational slogans. But with the above two, Buck’s made a good start on it, at least. The important part, really, is that battle at last be well and truly joined, not what Our Side chooses to yell at The Enemy whilst running at his lines, sabers waved aloft, with blood in our eyes.

Metaphorically speaking, of course.

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Who says there’s never any good news anymore?

Greg Abbott is by no means perfect, just as Donald Trump, you, me, nor any of the rest of us fallen-hoomon types passing through this mortal plane aren’t either. He’s for sure done some things as Texas Governor I haven’t agreed with, and then again some that I emphatically have. This would definitely be one of the latter.

BREAKING: Texas Governor Greg Abbott To Pardon Sgt. Daniel Perry
Texas Governor Greg Abbott is standing up for Americans’ right to self-defense.

He just released a statement saying that he has recommended Sgt. Daniel Perry be pardoned to the Board of Pardons and Paroles.

He also urged them to expedite its review of the case.

Abbott said, “Unlike the President or some other states, the Texas Constitution limits the Governor’s pardon authority to only act on a recommendation by the Board Of Pardons and Paroles. Texas law DOES allow the Governor to request the Board of Pardons and Paroles to determine if a person should be granted a pardon. I have made that request and instructed the board to expedite its review. I look forward to approving the Board’s pardon recommendation as soon as it hits my desk.”

As background, Army soldier Daniel Perry was found guilty of murder by a Travis County jury.

Prosecuted by yet another Soros DA, natch. Too bad nobody’s thought to off his worthless ass yet, but maybe someday it might yet happen—on which frabjous occasion the world will surely become a much better place for it.

Perry shot and killed an armed BLM-Antifa protester Garrett Foster in July 2020.

SGT Perry shot the BurnLootMurder/pAntiFa scumbag after said scumbag had pointed an AR15 directly at him, making it a FAFO-level Righteous Shoot™ all the way as far as I’m concerned. Good on Perry for returning a deserving waste of flesh to room temperature in response to a direct, credible threat against his own life, and good on Perry for having the cojones to stand up for the God-given right to do just that. As for the room-temp scumbag, piss on him; may he burn in Hell for a thousand years.

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Guerilla culture

NC Scout looks into it: what makes it, where it comes from, what it can do for determined men under the thumb of an oppressive, tyrannical government.

Y’know, like us.

A Guerrilla Movement must be reflective of the underlying culture which it seeks to preserve. I reflected upon my respect for the Afghan. In twenty years’ time, and perhaps forty, counting our exploitation of the Soviet misgivings, the West could never understand the Afghan puzzle. How can a people exist as a throwback to another time, absent the comfort we all come to know? Comfort to the Afghan serves two purposes; one, an outward showing of wealth, the other, a precursor to death. To the Afghan comfort leads to complacency, and at least in my experience, they sought simplicity. For all their failings as judged upon Western scales, they endure. Every aesthetic tells a generations-old story of what brought them to the present, and that story will carry their sons and grandsons forward generations more.

In America a great pain has been made to dilute the role of culture. We can no longer point to any one thing that is a cultural aesthetic, the last being the neon techno artwork of the 1980s. Not since then have we produced anything that can uniquely be identified as American, rather, we point to transnational corporate emblems as symbols of American culture. To the outside world its nothing more than a symbol of exploitation and oppression. But this culture was purposefully murdered, made to be called a ‘melting pot’, a cruel type of menagerie meant to establish a ruling hegemony while forcing out the competition. The old ways of Europe, those that cannot be commercialized, must be seen as rubeish, boorish, and backwards. Things to ridicule.

To a person that lives a steady diet of throwaway capitalism; McDonalds, Starbucks, Apple products, and Walmart; the very same traits exhibited at home are apostate. How can these rubes in their rural enclaves dare continue to exist against our metropolis? Clinging to their God, Guns and religion, how dare they. And that contemptful message of apostasy has given way to shades of genocide.

The people of a place, and thus the culture therein, creates the ecology of the Guerrilla. There are those pockets of cultural resistance in America, having borne the brunt of relentless attacks on its history and cultural significance. I frequently encounter these in my travels, training them to fight. One such is the Appalachian mountain region. Years ago in a conversation Dan Morgan made the observation, as an outsider, that the southern region of Appalachia was as clannish and buttoned up as any he’d ever encountered, paralleling his experience in Afghanistan, taking the better part of a decade to begin to build that fragile trust among the local populace. I chuckled, being intimately familiar with the anatomy of local politics. Those of the unelected kind. Those that are outwardly hostile to any unfamiliar face. These are protective measures to ensure the survival of culture. If you know, you know, or so its said, and if you’re fortunate enough to have been raised in such a culture you instantly understand.

I joking use the term Appalachistan, itself an internet meme among Afghanistan vets, to parallel this reality. I semi-jokingly refer back to another blood-soaked conflict, where a mountain people stared down a first world army that sought to crush them by force. And I only say semi based on the frequent comments people make describing my resemblance to those fighters in a faraway land. Replace Islam with Christianity and you have something of a mirror to the underlying culture of the region. The Chechen example is one that I’ve referenced again and again over the years because its parallel is uncanny to the reality we now face. Seen as backwards people constantly a problem for the ruling elite of both Tsarist and Soviet Russia, they were constantly subjected to genocides, forced relocations, conscription and brutal repression. And yet, the culture endured. The people bore the brunt of time and continued on. Those troubles never ended and thus they never will; struggle makes life worth living. Comfort is the absence of struggle.

The war in Chechnya came into full bloom amid the continuing financial crisis and fallout from the fall of the Soviet Union. The central authority had failed and resorted to force as a means of maintenance of power. When governments are questioned this is universally the case. Having a large number of Chechens who were veterans of the Soviet Afghan War. They knew the failings of Operation Magistral and the tone deaf lessons going unheard in the halls of Frunze. And, at least for a time, they won. Despite the lack of airpower and armor, but well armed with the prerequisite knowledge and understanding that preservation of culture lay upon their shoulders alone. That deafness cost Russia an entire Division of armor in the span of two days.

A disproportionate number of our youth went forward during the ignoble Global War On Terror. Seduced by fools promising small sums of money, we went forth, not in support roles, mind you, but as fighters. And while the luster of those combat awards have faded, it remains an epitaph of the knowledge painfully earned, from both our successes and our failures, in the process. A knowledge to be shared. The Taliban won, and we will too when pushed. We have a culture to be preserved, yours is failing.

Don’t threaten us.

Or, y’know, DO. By all means, do. Fuck around, and find out.

I believe I may have told the story here before of the year or two my brother spent in Boone, delivering log-home kits via eighteen-wheeler into the hills and hollers all around the area for construction companies building dream-home mountain cabins for flatlander Yuppie-types. Jeff got shot at numerous times, potshots sent just overhead or in front of the truck loosed by wild-eyed hillbillies sniping from concealment in the woods, who were not at all happy about the unwelcome incursion and weren’t in the least shy about expressing their displeasure over being displaced from land they considered theirs by birthright.

On occasion, the pissed-off mountain folk would bide their time until the land had been cleared, all the construction materials on-site, the log-house halfway built…and then come down en masse from their tumbledown shacks in the dead of night to torch the whole works, burning everything to cinders and ash.

Jeff said that, after the first couple of months when he’d seen what was involved, his was NOT a restful occupation. In fact, he came to hate the damned job with a passion. But, as he said, it was never boring.

So yeah, threaten away, Pedo Jaux. Bluster, boast, and lecture us all on how we’d have to have F16s, tanks, and battleships to overcome your politicized, emasculated Woke military. Let’s just see how all that works out for ya in the end.

(Via WRSA)

Stunning and brave

For real this time, not the way the shitlibs (ab)use those words.

Nashville Heroes Expose The Lies Of Uvalde Cowards

The Nashville Police have released bodycam footage of its response to a terrorist shooting at Covenant Church school.

The six-minute clip is shot from the perspectives of Rex Engelbert and Michael Collazo, among the first two officers on the scene. It shows impressive bravery, determination, urgency, and skill. It’s not an exaggeration to say they probably saved numerous lives.

Their courage is also a reminder that if Uvalde cops responding to the Robb Elementary school mass shooting last year had shown any urgency or a modicum of bravery, rather than sitting around a parking lot and hallway debating what to do, they likely would have prevented the murders of many, if not all, of the 19 children and two teachers at the school. Recall that one of the officers had a rifle aimed at the shooter before he entered the school but didn’t take the shot because he was awaiting his boss’ permission.

These are obviously highly intense and perilous situations for cops. Maybe I’m being naïve, but I tend to believe most armed Americans would rush into a school to try and save children’s lives. As for the police, that’s the job. And Nashville police offered a textbook lesson on how to do it correctly.

They most certainly did, and are to be commended highly for it. The bodycam footage of both Collazo and Engelbert, viewable on YewToob exclusively since embedding it has been disallowed, is harrowing and quite difficult to watch. It’s also a must-see video, for the window it provides into what these fine Metro Nashville PD officers faced as they entered the building, cleared rooms on the ground floor, and then went upstairs to confront the unbalanced “transgender” (BIRM) mass-murderer and bring her down.

To say that they had to have been absolutely scared shitless is no slight to these fine officers, for what man alive wouldn’t have been in their place? Yes, it’s their job, their sworn and sacred duty, granted. Still, the courage involved in swallowing down that fear to run towards the sound of the guns without the least hesitation, perform the job flawlessly, and redeem that duty cannot be denied.

Engelbert, Collazo, and the rest of their team yesterday set a shining example of what it means to be a man—of what manhood really and truly IS, and always should be. Let us hope that their unflinching, indomitable bravery will inspire many, many young American men to duly dismiss the Left’s “toxic masculinity” codswallop and follow that example to the best of their ability instead, for generations to come. They are among our very best and brightest, and richly merit every jot and tittle of the praise being heaped upon them today. Heartfelt kudos, grateful thanks, and a humble tip of the CF chapeau to them.

Update! Victoria Taft says it well.

It’s gotten to be a cliché to say that when we run out screaming, the good guys run in. But here we are again. The good guys run in to vanquish the bad guys. It’s a story as old as time.

The response was professional and competent.

I know I’ll get blowback from some quarters, upset for saying a video showing a bad guy getting their pre-ordained end will make anyone proud. But if you are upset, I’d advise you to go back to your fainting couch where you left your kombucha, pick up your latest tome about toxic masculinity and ACAB tracts, and save your breath, because I can’t hear you.

Nor should you wish to, Victoria; they’ve never had anything to say that was worth listening to, anyway. In fact, no decent person should even bother to try listening. That way lies madness, which is all the Evil Left has to offer. To Hell with every last one of them.

Too smart for Fauci up in the ‘hood

Lying “Little Mengele” gets himself a schooling from an everyday schlub who simply ain’t having any of Fauci’s bullshit.


Don’t miss a minute of it; it’s one of those truly golden moments you only see so many of in a single lifetime.

At the very end, L’il Mengele is so damned flustered by this all-American show of open defiance he has to break out his bottle of what my mom always called “nerve pills” to calm himself down and quell the fear and anger surging through him as a result of this dude’s righteous, scrumptiously-direct upbraiding. Heartfelt kudos to him, and to all like him who have stood up to the scurvy tyrants in one way or another: refusing to wear the Mask Of Submission; defying lockdowns; refusing to heed illegal edicts; or simply getting all up in their face and telling them, NO.

Calls for a celebratory rock and roll classic, I believe.

From The Who’s first “farewell show” in Toronto back in ’82, which has to be one of the very best live recordings I ever did see. If the vid of Pete Townsend’s immortal magnum opus won’t show up for you here, which it probably won’t, be sure to click thru to YewToob and watch. You won’t be sorry you did, trust me.

Update! The whole concert can be viewed here. As I said, it’s close to two hours of time VERY well spent.

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Your feel-good video of the week

Another FAFO Righteous Shoot™.


Justified? Yep—especially seeing as how AZ_Golfer posted a follow-up, explaining the backstory.

Man Shoots Stalker In Self-Defense, Video Goes Viral: Here’s The Full Story

Benjamin Backus, a 40-year-old financial advisor, reportedly provided assistance to his ex-felon neighbor, Michael Montanarella, in starting his own business.

However, Montanarella’s alleged descent into heavy drug and alcohol use resulted in him getting kicked out of rehab and developing paranoid delusions.

He believed that Backus was breaking into his home and stealing things, despite the fact that Backus and his son had moved. Montanarella reportedly threatened Backus after showing up at his new home, and even vandalized his property by breaking windows on multiple occasions.

Backus took out a restraining order against Montanarella, but the situation escalated on March 24, 2022.

Backus claims that he went out to warm up his car to take his son to his SATs and head to work, but heard an engine start behind him. He turned around and saw Montanarella drive past him before circling back to throw a rock at him.

Montanarella then allegedly jumped out of the car and approached Backus, who backed up down the road past his house while repeatedly telling Montanarella to stop and get down.

This led to the use of force by Backus, which was caught on camera and went viral.

Again: justified? Oh HELL yeah. More than, in fact; my only question for Righteous Shooter after reading that is, what the hell took ya so long, anyway? He never should’ve allowed Mr Psycho Stalker to get as physically close to him as he did, IMHO.

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

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

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

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

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2016 Fabulous 50 Blog Awards

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