Category: Believe it or Else

Another idea whose time has surely come

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Retroactive abortion.

My guess: we’re nearing the end of America’s Christian patience for being snookered, gaslit, lied-to, bamboozled, and mind-fucked, especially as our nation gets gang-raped by the Party of Chaos. Perhaps the solution is to go a little further down the Roe v Wade path and make abortion fully retroactive, a new and innovative way to “cancel” lives whose obnoxious presence in the world is a menace to the human project. Declare the likes of AlMay and NiJank retroactively “unborn,” erasing their privilege to appointed office. The wire coat-hanger probably will not avail in this procedure.

Oh, that’s all right, a decently-zeroed .308 caliber rifle damned sure will.

Meanwhile, several Supreme Court justices are under siege in direct contravention of 18 U.S. Code § 115 — influencing, impeding, or retaliating against a federal official by threatening or injuring a family member. The authorities are permitting angry mobs to moil freely outside the Justices’ houses, while many January Sixth “insurrectionists” rot in the DC jail into a second-year on misdemeanor charges that the authorities refuse to adjudicate — meaning that there is no authority in Washington, DC, only a nameless, lawless simulacrum of it as conceived, say, in the spirit of Franz Kafka.

Hope abides that the November elections might set up a correction to much of this madness. The release on Saturday of Dinesh D’Souza’s documentary 2000 Mules does not provide a whole lot of encouragement about that. The Party of Chaos still has its apparatus of ballot fraud in place all over the country and nobody seems to know what to do about it (though the remedy is pretty simple and straightforward: in-person voting with voter ID).

Please permit me to commend the aforementioned .308 caliber rifle to your attention as a most excellent alternative.

The evidence of drop-box video and smart-phone tracking of the 2020 ballot-stuffers in several states is right there and nobody in American life appears to be equipped to do something about it. The necessary equipment consists of two plum-sized glands generally assigned at birth to persons of the male persuasion. Perhaps, along with refrigerator condensers, the supply line for that is broken.

But first, of course, before the scheduled midterm elections there are roughly six months of nice weather to get through, meaning conditions that are favorable for action in the street, starring the shock troops of Progressive Wokery. Depending on where you live, maybe that’s another reason to feel those old heebie-jeebies creeping in on little spiders’ feet.

Speak for yourself, Bill. What I’m sensing is more of a steadily-increasing disinclination among Real Americans to just sit passively back and put up with such arrant nonsense this go-round, watching helplessly as American cities burn and the police sit on their hands and do nothing. I’m thinking this might possibly be where that good ol’ standby, the .308 caliber rifle, might just be brought into play. We have no effective way to predict when the point will be reached, but sooner or later enough becomes enough, all patience has been exhausted, and sleeping giants will be awakened and rise up in wrath.

1

Government internet: now a Thing!

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Oh goodie gumdrops, looks like we just found ourselves a brand new Constitutional right!


The Obamanet, like its predecessor Obamacare, will be more efficient, lots cheaper (FREE!!!), more reliable, much faster, and WAY more entertaining, educational, and just plain FUN!!! Sundance assures us ALL IS WELL.

There is nothing nefarious about the U.S. surveillance state wanting to make surveillance more efficient. Nothing nefarious at all.

Do not be discouraged by those extremist voices outlining the benefits to government that are provided by a wider, more inclusive, national broadband internet system; that connects to a more efficient 5G internet system; that permits you to experience a new world of telecommunications benefits tailored to your individual needs.

The new network of all things interconnected will make life far more convenient, perhaps allowing you to eliminate the worry of finding gasoline in rural areas when it becomes scarce. Our new national networks will help ease your mind as the internet proximity services work seamlessly with your portable transponder unit (cell phone) to facilitate your needs.

The convenience of finding stuff you need; intersecting with voting and data-connections with your social media network; helping the government track you; all of it. The opportunities are endless my friends. Smiles, everyone, smiles.

You’d think they would be saying thank you. Man, I just can’t wait to get my hands on my new 56k/600 baud modem from dear old Uncle Sam! It’s FREE, you know!

2

Business as usual, only more so

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America just put itself through a two year-plus hazing ritual.

More than a century ago, Mark Twain identified two fundamental problems that would prove relevant to the Covid pandemic. “How easy it is to make people believe a lie,” he wrote, “and how hard it is to undo that work again!” No convincing evidence existed at the start of the pandemic that lockdowns, school closures, and mask mandates would protect people against the virus, but it was remarkably easy to make the public believe that these policies were “the science.” Today, thanks to two years of actual scientific evidence, it’s clearer than ever that these were terrible mistakes; yet most people still believe that the measures were worthwhile—and many are eager to maintain some mandates even longer.

The mental mistakes were not made by citizens who dutifully sacrificed for two years. They assumed that the Centers for Disease Control knew how to control disease and that scientists and public-health officials would provide sound scientific guidance about public health. Those were reasonable assumptions. They just turned out to be wrong.

After a great disaster, the traditional response is to appoint a blue-ribbon panel to investigate it, and a bill has already been introduced in Congress to create a Covid commission. In theory, this could be a worthy public service, allowing experts to sift the evidence impartially and determine which strategies worked, which ones failed, how much needless damage was done—and whom to blame for it. But in practice, which experts would the current Democratic administration or Congress appoint? Presumably, the pillars of the public-health establishment—the same luminaries whose advice was followed so calamitously the past two years.

Before Covid, the United States drew up plans for a pandemic and maintained the world’s most lavishly funded scientific and medical institutions to deal with one. When the coronavirus arrived, the leaders of those institutions should have identified who was at serious risk and who wasn’t and adopted proven strategies to protect the vulnerable while doing the least harm to everyone else. They should have monitored the effects of their policies and adjusted them based on what they learned. By honestly communicating the risks and considering the overall public good, they could have tamped down needless fear and united the country behind their efforts.

Instead, they proceeded to ignore their own plans as well as the basic principles of science and public health. Leaders of the CDC terrified the public with worst-case scenarios based on computer models—and then used those blatantly unrealistic projections to claim unprecedented powers and experiment with untested strategies. Their pre-Covid planning scenarios had rejected business and school closures even for a pandemic as deadly as the Spanish flu of 1918, but when the Covid-19 pandemic came, they imposed lockdowns without even pretending to weigh the hypothetical benefits against the tangible economic, medical, and social costs—not to mention the intangible costs in emotional hardship and lost liberty. Randomized clinical trials conducted before the pandemic had repeatedly shown that masks did little or no good at preventing viral spread, but the CDC proclaimed them effective against Covid and promoted mask mandates nationwide. As the pandemic wore on, federal health officials looked for excuses to justify the lockdowns and mandates, hyping flawed studies and cherry-picked data, while failing to sponsor rigorous research testing their strategies.

They stubbornly ignored the hundreds of studies around the world showing that, except in a few isolated places, lockdowns did not reduce Covid mortality and that mask mandates were generally ineffective and senselessly cruel in classrooms. The most glaring evidence came from places with the least restrictive policies, like Florida, along with the Nordic countries Sweden, Finland, and Norway, which avoided lockdowns and mask mandates—yet did as well as, or better than, the average in preventing both Covid deaths and overall mortality during the course of the pandemic.

Instead of heeding all this evidence of their mistakes, federal officials did their best to suppress it and silence dissenters.

And that right there, all by itself, tells you everything you’ll ever need to know about not only the Fauxvid disaster specifically, but about tyranny more broadly. US government leaders, as well as those of most of the States, were intent on one thing only: POWER. The tinhorn megalomaniacs saw their opportunity and seized it, using what they saw as a chance of a lifetime to their greatest advantage.

HONEST men—true scientists, healers, and statesmen, would have looked carefully at the ever-mounting evidence that upheld their previous studies and long-standing official views on the failings of masks, lockdowns, “social distancing,” school closures, and other such balderdash right away. They would have put the good of the people over their own petty ambitions, focused their energy and attention on doing their fucking jobs instead of stroking their own egos and feathering their own nests (Fauci was the ne plus ultra example of this preening and strutting, but he was hardly the only one), and went back to the original, long-established plan.

Instead, these FederalGovCo bureau-rats lied, swept the truth under the rug as best they could, and enlisted their partners in academia and Establishment Media in their campaign to destroy the lives and careers of the many actual scientists and health care professionals who were doing the research, crunching the numbers, and working tirelessly to get the truth out there.

Francis Collins, the head of the National Institutes of Health, wrote to Anthony Fauci in October 2020 urging “a quick and devastating published takedown” of the “three fringe epidemiologists” responsible for the Great Barrington Declaration. These three researchers—from the “fringe” institutions of Harvard, Stanford, and Oxford—criticized the deadly harms of the lockdowns and urged an alternative strategy of focusing protection on the high-risk elderly, allowing natural immunity to grow among the younger population at low risk. Fauci and Collins went on a media offensive, dismissing the focused-protection strategy as “very dangerous” and “not mainstream science.” Other scientists quickly joined the attack on the Great Barrington Declaration by signing a rebuttal, the John Snow Memorandum, which asserted that lockdowns were effective and dismissed the idea of natural immunity, claiming that “there is no evidence for lasting protective immunity to SARS-CoV-2 following natural infection.”

It was a remarkably irresponsible claim, given already-existing evidence at the time (the fall of 2020) that people’s immune systems developed defenses after a Covid infection. It would have been surprising if an infection didn’t produce durable protection. Yet this denial of natural immunity appeared in The Lancet and was signed by thousands of scientists and doctors, including Rochelle Walensky, who enshrined this unscientific notion as CDC policy when she became the agency’s leader during the Biden administration. It didn’t matter that natural immunity was repeatedly shown to be stronger and longer-lasting than vaccine immunity, or that other countries exempted people with natural immunity from vaccine mandates. The Biden administration insisted on vaccinating everyone—and firing workers who refused, including hospital staff and other essential workers whose prior Covid infections gave them stronger immunity than their vaccinated colleagues. Instead of uniting Americans against the virus, public-health officials chose painful policies that divided the faithful from the disobedient.

The public needs to learn what went wrong during the pandemic, but they’re not going to hear it from the Biden administration. It rewarded Fauci for his failures by giving him a new title, Chief Medical Advisor to the President, and would surely resist any serious investigation of its Covid strategies. Republicans could start the process if they win control of Congress in November and establish a Covid commission, but they’d be taking on the federal bureaucracy as well as the public-health establishment.

Waste of time. Or did we so quickly forget all those endless Repugnican promises to “end Obamacare,” which rapidly softened into a pledge to “repeal and replace” it with some other government health-care scheme, before they all just closed the door in our faces, sat down to talk the whole thing over, and quietly agreed among themselves to just pretend none of it had ever happened.

The public—we fully-paid-up members of the Disobedient Class who have long understood the true nature of government and its personnel, at any rate—already KNOWS what “went wrong” during the pandemic, or close enough. The lies, reversals, and shifty maneuvering of Fauci and his fellow scuttling homunculi gave the game away; the more perceptive of us had begun to smell a rat from the earliest stages of this shitshow. As I’ve told a few women I’d caught cheating: You just looked me in the face and told me a lie. Everything else is just details, which aren’t really worth bothering about anymore. I know everything that matters.

We know a few other important things about the Fauxvid grift, too. For instance, we know what the odds are that parasitical malefactors like Fauci, Collins, Walinski, and enough of their co-conspirators to populate an entire Supermax wing will ever be brought to justice for the irrepairable damage they caused. We know that the great mass of putative “Americans” are in fact AINOs, Americans In Name Only: cowards, sheep, ratfinks, and knob-polishers who must never be trusted or relied on in any effort more important than a neighborhood grill-out. We know, or we ought to, that Heritage Americans no longer have any representation in the seat of national government—that the so-called “two-party system” we’ve been sold our whole lives as the ideal arrangement for the governance of a free and independent citizenry, explicitly urged on us by the Founders (although, strangely enough, I can’t recall ever seeing any mention of this “two-party system” in the Constitution) is in reality a sour, piss-poor joke; what we actually have is a Uniparty whose two faces have far more in common with each other than they ever will with the average Heartland Joe. Scott Atlas, for one, has seen enough of it to know what’s up.

Atlas, the health-policy analyst from the Hoover Institution who joined the Trump administration’s Covid task force and fought unsuccessfully against Fauci’s pandemic policies, says that his experience in Washington has convinced him that any government-run commission would be a mistake.

“It’s massively naïve to think that our government will do anything objective,” Atlas says. “Any U.S. government panel would be viewed as, or be in reality, 100 percent partisan. It could be smarter to have an international organization do it, looking at the overall questions of management, because if it’s only an assessment of the U.S., then it naturally becomes a political blame game.” But which international organization could be trusted to do a fair investigation? The obvious candidates, like the World Health Organization or the World Bank, would presumably rely on establishment figures loath to admit their mistakes. And even if they honestly evaluated the pandemic strategies, how much impact would the report have? The mainstream press would probably either ignore it, as it ignored a recent meta-analysis concluding that lockdowns had “little to no effect” on Covid mortality, or attack it with the same tactics used to smear the Great Barrington Declaration as “not mainstream.”

Actually, it wouldn’t so much be a mistake as it would just a complete waste of time. The mistake would be to place an ounce of faith in this or any other “commission,” “panel,” or “investigation” charged with “getting to the bottom” of some government misdeed or other. The real purpose of such commissions is to throw the rubes a bone, distract the slack-jawed yokels for a short while until the whole thing starts to bog down, gets supplanted in the news cycle by fresher material, and just sort of quietly peters out, with maybe some obscure lawyer or staffer nobody knows or cares about getting sentenced to twelve minutes’ unsupervised probation and 18 holes of golf with his legal team upon his “release” to make it look good.

As for “international organizations,” I’d posit that, if this nation has reached the point where we think it necessary to submit ourselves to investigation and juridication such as that, then our government is well beyond salvage, and we must look elsewhere for solutions.

The fundamental character of Amerika v2.0’s federal goobermint, at every level and in all contexts, is this: it is a charade. Nothing about it is real; there is no truth in it, no solidity, nothing you can take hold of and think, Gotcha! The speechifying, the press conferences, the committees and glandhanding and logrolling and paperwork—all of it as flimsy as gossamer, undulating and wispy like smoke on a gentle breeze. It may seem real enough when you look at the thing just right, but blink your eyes and POOF! It’s gone.

Well, except for the FBI. Now, THOSE people you definitely need to stay way the heck away from. They’re as real as a pitbull with your calf clamped between its jaws, only a lot less amenable to reason. Tierney closes this way:

After the pandemic, Americans should never let public-health authorities deprive them of their liberties.

Sorry, but they’re lost now. Before we can see to not repeating the error, we’ll first have to take ’em back again. And I do mean take, too; you can be damned sure that The Power isn’t going to just hand ’em back over simply because we asked them nicely to.

2

UNPOSSIBLE!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

In the negative

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

Modern alternative

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

10

NASA beclowns humanity

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Remember, these are America’s greatest minds we’re talking about here.

NASA to launch naked pictures of humans to space in hope of ‘attracting aliens’

DUDE! Have you seen what humans look like these days? Most of us have devolved into doughy, flubberous tubs of jigglesome goo at this point, barely hardy enough to peel themselves off the dangerously over-stressed sofa and lumber over to the fridge for another desperately-needed snack. The remainder of us hoo-mans are, quite literally, starving—horrifying, dead-eyed skels who more closely resemble Auschwitz survivors about ten minutes after being liberated by Allied forces than anything else.

Not for nothing, folks, but I’m thinking “attract” might not exactly be the mot juste here.

NASA scientists plan to launch pictures of naked humans into space in the hope of luring aliens to us.

The depictions will also include an invitation to respond should an intelligent alien race find the space nudes.

Fortunately, the hypothetical aliens shouldn’t be too shocked by the unsolicited nudes.

The pictures aren’t graphic photographs of naked humans but a drawing of a naked man and a woman next to a depiction of DNA.

The article includes this space smut, which is…well, let’s be charitable and call the pre-K level drawing “good enough for government work” and just leave it at that, shall we?

The main aim of the BITG project is to send a message to any alien civilizations that could be out there.

Scientists think the pixelated illustration of a naked man and woman waving hello could help us finally make contact with extraterrestrials.

Oh, sure. Either that, or guarantee that they will never, ever permit such contact, preferring to make a mad dash for galaxy’s edge instead. NASA’s ridiculous and inartful scribblings are more likely to instill in Marvin the Martian a frantic desire to put as much distance between himself and humanity as he possible can, seems to me. The next passage glosses over something important.

Scientists think a binary-coded message is most likely to be understood by aliens.

The scientists explain in their study: “Though the concept of mathematics in human terms is potentially unrecognizable to extra-terrestrial intelligence, binary is likely universal across all intelligence.”

Across all HUMAN-type intelligence, you mean—intelligence itself being strictly definable in terms comprehensible to HUMANS. Me, you, NASA, everybody—none of us have any clue as to alien physiognomy. We don’t know if they even HAVE brains, never mind how those brains work or how advanced their cognitive function might be. IF they have brains at all. Alien perception of basic physical reality might well diverge so radically from our own as to disallow any possibility of communication between our two species. Such an unbridgeable chasm renders NASA’s fanciful speculation that “binary”—an exclusively HUMAN construct, mind, never independently present in Earth’s planetary bioforms, geology, or atmosphere—is “likely universal across all intelligence” the callow daydream that it most definitely is.

This is where we must pay our respects to an irony so deep, so powerful, so profound it almost has a discernible aroma about it: only our most brilliant scientists and thinkers could be arrogant enough to blithely skate past the abundantly obvious possibility that alien life forms are likely to be so wildly at variance with us in every imaginable way—not to mention the UNimaginable ones, which would of necessity be beyond counting—that the very idea of ANY commonality between us physically, intellectually, or emotionally is patently absurd.

Not so for the good-enough-for-government-work Superbrains of NASA, however. These impeccably well-educated and competent “experts” seem to think it squarely within the expansive ken of such Übermenschen as themselves to make certain assumptions without squandering a second of their priceless time and energy pondering whether or not those assumptions are valid. Funny, innit, that one of the bedrock prequisites which help to not only identify true intelligence but also elevate it from mere gauzy potentiality into a genuinely useful thing—from the nebulous stuff of idle fantasy into real-world practicality—would turn out to be plain, familiar old humility.

Funnier still that arrogance should be the easiest, most natural-feeling attitude for most humans to adopt, the very first resort of both the egotistical but otherwise well-intentioned chowderhead and the conniving scalawag whenever forced to confront his own insufficiency of knowledge, his unwarranted overconfidence, his fallibility—while humility is by far the most awkward, toilsome, and wholly alien-seeming and oblique character trait to summon, much less to maintain. The demands humility imposes are numerous, non-trivial, and painful. But the rewards it bestows are rich beyond belief, a fulsome bounty reinforced and multiplied every time we choose it as our response to challenge or adversity.

Arrogance always makes one look like a goddamned jackass in the end. Worse still, most who succumb to its empty blandishments never even know what utter fools arrogance has made of them, their heads being crammed too far up their own asses to see the light of day. Those capable of inculcating and bolstering a proper sense of humility, on the other hand, will find themselves widely admired and respected for the very trait that did so much to ensure their success, whatever their chosen field of endeavor may be.

They added: “The proposed message includes basic mathematical and physical concepts to establish a universal means of communication followed by information on the biochemical composition of life on Earth, the Solar System’s time-stamped position in the Milky Way relative to known globular clusters, as well as digitized depictions of the Solar System, and Earth’s surface.”

“A universal means of communication.” Do these people even hear their words? Across, what, about 2-300,000 fucking years of the existence of what we think of as “modern” man, no “universal means of communication” has ever been developed. EVER. Dios mio, mankind has never created a universal language in all that time, nor is there the slightest prospect of such a thing on the horizon. But hey, that can’t stop the bright boys at NASA, and why should it? They’ve been sooooo incredibly successful since the halcyon days of the 1960s and 70s, right?

The concept of sending depictions of naked humans to space isn’t new.

The Pioneer plaques sent to space on the 1972 Pioneer 10 and 1973 Pioneer 11 missions, also featured drawings of naked humans.

The plaques are attached to the antennas on the crafts.

They’re still sailing away from Earth to this day.

With nary a peep heard from any of our prospective alien friends from that day to this. Those NASA folks might be smart, but they don’t seem to have learned a whole lot. But hey, I’m probably just too dumb to understand such heady stuff; it’s all probably WAY over my head. So shamed am I by my intellectual inadequacy, I’d never even DREAM of asking the NASA brain trust to explain—in detail and with extensive confirmatory references in the footnotes—exactly what all that taxpayer money bought for us.

Hope those brainiacs will remember to request access to the FBI “evidence” locker so’s they can glom some kiddie-porn to slap onto that phallic launch vehicle of theirs. Celebrating the entire spectrum of human sexual “diversity” is what the modern American “space program” is all about, don’tchaknow.

Oh, and Mooselimbs too. Gotta throw a few Korans in there, maybe a nice set of those checkered kitchen drapes they like to wear on their heads.

1

Tender mercies

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Greatest. Auto. Review. EVAR.

‘Suffice to say the A110 absolutely crushes expectations, and your berry hanger’
The absolutely brilliant Alpine A110 is anything but sterile to drive
You’ll have heard how the Alpine A110’s combination of lightness and rightness has earned the admiration of evo’s tillermen. And that’s all well and good, but what’s it like if you’ve just had a vasectomy? To find out, I went to a central London clinic and invited a large, medically qualified man to have a good rummage amongst my underparts, then realised with dismay that I had booked to borrow a low-slung French sports coupe almost immediately afterwards.

The first thing to cross your mind upon seeing the A110 is just how little it is and also how much your balls hurt. You can immediately sense that this is a car from which all excess has been banished, and this impression is reinforced by opening the featherweight aluminium door, which is so lacking in mass that it puts no strain whatsoever on your mangled knacker sack, unlike its low-slung driving position, which is absolute agony.

Once in, you can take a moment to admire the bespoke seats with their one-piece backs and upsettingly unpillowy cushions. You might be interested to learn that these chairs weigh just 13.1kg each, despite fine detailing including quilted leather and a grippy central section that expertly rides your jeans up into the tenderest parts of your plum pouch.

The rest of the interior is, perhaps, a little less successful, featuring a smattering of Renault parts bin components, including remote audio controls seemingly taken from the Renault 19, and the flat keyless entry card from the Laguna, though wrapped in a smart leather case that makes it both more attractive to look at and better equipped to shift awkwardly across your pocket and nudge stoutly into your tenderised clacker hammock.

Okay, that there is some truly inspired stuff. Hats off to Richard Porter for his dedication to his craft, taking one for the team and putting his boy beans in harm’s way to bring us this truly stellar article. Well done, young feller, well done.

“Clacker hammock.” I swear, I just can’t stop laughing at that one.

1

2000 Cheating Husbands know the score

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Wayne Root presents an intriguing thought-experiment.

How powerful is “2,000 Mules”? Why do you think the Supreme Court decision on Roe v. Wade was leaked right at this exact moment? This is the first Supreme Court decision that has ever been leaked — and it just happened to occur on the eve of the release of “2,000 Mules”?

Look who this historic criminal act targets: female voters. It’s no coincidence.

But I have a message for female voters, wives and mothers. Ladies, have you ever had a boyfriend or husband cheat on you? Did you need actual proof of your husband cheating to know the truth? Or would this be enough to know for sure?

Your husband comes home at 3 a.m., reeking of booze, lipstick on his collar, the smell of a woman’s perfume on his body, and when you ask him where he’s been, he replies, “Shut up. I did nothing wrong. You’re crazy. You’re a conspiracy theorist. No, you can’t look at my text messages. No, you can’t look at the GPS of my phone. How dare you ask? If you ever talk about this again, I’ll kick you out of this home. Good luck being homeless on the streets.”

What would any woman believe at that point? Do you need any further proof? Or is your husband’s reaction all the proof you need? Are you crazy or a conspiracy theorist for seeing the truth with your own eyes?

That’s the 2020 election to a T. We all know what happened. We don’t need what Democrats and the establishment media call “proof.” The Democrats’ angry response is the proof. The media’s cover-up is the proof.

They call us crazy. They call us conspiracy theorists. They refuse any investigation. They fight against forensic audits with armies of lawyers. They ban any discussion. They refuse any debate. Is this normal?

Well, you can bet your very last farthing that it will be from now on.

But the only proof any smart wife or mother needs is the response. Just like a cheating husband, the Democrats’ response is so rancid, so ridiculous, so over-the-top with fake outrage, we all know the truth. The proof is in the response. We know.

If you made a bet on the election (as I did), you know. Donald Trump was running away with a landslide electoral victory at midnight on election night when suddenly five key states announced at the same time, for the first time in history, that they were stopping the vote count until morning. Nothing strange there. Nothing suspicious there.

Trump had insurmountable leads in all five states. Yet when we woke up, the leads were gone. Hundreds of thousands of new votes — almost 100 percent for Biden — were found overnight. And they were found with no GOP witnesses in the counting rooms. No problem there, right?

But you don’t need “2,000 Mules” to know for sure. “2,000 Cheating Husbands” tells the real story.

Simply tell every Democrat you know that you believe the 2020 election was stolen. Then watch their reaction. They’ll act exactly like your cheating husband, at 3 a.m., with lipstick on his collar.

Not me, bub. I wouldn’t tell a Demonrat where the men’s room was—not even if his eyes were rolled back in his head, his teeth were chattering, and he had a dark, wet stain spreading across the front of his trousers, I wouldn’t. Wayne closes, correctly, with the eternal question we’re all waiting with bated breath to have answered. Whichever way it shakes out, you can be certain that Team Tyrrany will be running the exact same play against us again.

3

Diversity-Americans: not up to snuff

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Forget it, Jake, it’s Coontown.

When you order ice cream, you don’t want to hear “We’re out” or “It’s broken,” yet it has been happening so often across the United States in recent years that it became somewhat of a cultural meme that spawned considerable media interest. Reports indicate that up to a quarter of McDonald’s ice cream machines are not operational at any given time.

Ice cream sales make up 3% of total McDonald’s sales (over $22 billion annually), amounting to about a quarter of a billion dollars a year. If the company is losing out on roughly 25% of that, we have a $56 million question on our hands every year.

Media outlets looking to cover the story and capitalize on the “McBroken” meme published dozens of quite lousy pieces concluding that the extensive cleaning process and heat sanitization cycle are to blame for the machine’s maladies. I never bought that story for a few reasons. One thing that doesn’t add up with the “cleaning” explanation is why any restaurant would clean a machine while it is open, and how it could be true that ten to 25% of all working hours in them are dedicated to “cleaning.” Perhaps nobody wants to clean the machines, so they merely say that it is not working.

Then, in April 2021, a YouTuber named Johnny Harris uploaded a now-viral video with over nine million views titled, “The REAL Reason McDonald’s Ice Cream Machines Are Always Broken.” In this 30-minute exposé, Harris elaborates a new theory that has gained acceptance as the actual reason for the McDonald’s ice cream downtime. Harris explains that the manufacturer of the ice cream machines, Taylor, is to blame. Taylor is the industry standard and the same company that makes ice cream machines for most quick-service restaurants, and has been supplying the equipment to McDonald’s since 1956. The next time you see an ice cream machine, look for the manufacturer’s name. It’s probably a Taylor.

Harris posits that Taylor has made the machines intentionally onerous to operate so they can generate future revenue out of repair contracts. The theory is that Taylor deliberately makes ice cream machines that are always in need of service and are generally too complicated for restaurant workers to understand. Hence, they call Taylor’s service technicians, which keeps the company flush with cash flow. It’s an interesting theory, and the video hams it up. There are plenty of suspenseful cuts, long stares into the camera, and moments when you are supposed to be in shock as facts are uncovered, such as the long working history between McDonald’s and Taylor. Harris wants you to believe that corporate greed on Taylor’s end is to blame. In a way, Harris created the perfect scapegoat: shifting the blame from restaurant workers to shadowy business practices. People loved it, too. And it is entirely wrong.

There are some holes in this story as well…

Of all the outlets to cover the story, none of them got close to what I found, including The Wall Street Journal, Business Insider, Mashed, Boston Globe, Wired, and Inc. Vice News almost got there; they had the proper dataset to solve the mystery, but they fumbled, as expected.

First, I had to dig back a couple of years to find an article I remembered seeing which confirmed something we already know: restaurants owned by blacks, in black areas, do not perform as well as those in “less diverse” communities. McDonald’s has over 200 black franchisees out of the 1,700 or so owners — enough to make the data statistically reliable. Stores that the black franchisees own an average of $68,000 net less per month than all franchise stores. That’s $816,000 per year, per store, lower than the chain’s average.

There are probably many reasons for this disparity. Some black franchise owners postulated that a lack of black leadership in the McDonald’s corporation is an issue. I’m not sure there is a connection. Another issue raised was that black owners tend to own stores in black neighborhoods, where costs are high and sales are lower. There is a notion that nebulous socioeconomic issues tied to things like “white privilege,” “white supremacy,” and “systemic racism” are to blame: i.e., blacks have less money as a whole to spend on fast food, therefore making the sales of black-owned McDonald’s restaurants lower. To the extent that socioeconomic forces are genuine and legitimate, I will say the issue is not systemic racism or white people, but sub-Saharan genetics.

One of the black franchisees was interviewed about his experience. He said “my stores are hellholes,” and lamented that they are robbed once or twice per month. His further comments revealed that his stores are often vandalized: people destroy the bathrooms and break the windows, and a murder had even taken place on the premises of one restaurant.

The murder in the McDonald’s reminded me of a grocery store in Atlanta called “Murder Kroger.” The Ponce de Leon Avenue Kroger earned that nickname by being the stage for many violent crimes. Some Kroger stores actually left black neighborhoods not far from where I live because their outlets there were the worst in the company, suffering from extreme shoplifting and security issues. After pulling out of these neighborhoods, the company was declared “racist” and blamed for contributing to “food deserts” in black communities. The stores were simply not profitable and not worth the headache to keep open. Although some argue there is a white supremacist conspiracy theory keeping blacks from having nice grocery stores in their neighborhoods, the black community itself runs them out of business through their behavior. As states and cities continue to decriminalize shoplifting, this trend will continue.

Another black McDonald’s franchisee said that his stores were among the worst in the company. They have low cash flows, serious staffing problems, and are often robbed. The black owners often blame McDonald’s corporate. Still, they did not seem to realize that their real gripe is with their own community and the behavior of their racial cohort. Part of the extra costs that the black franchises have to pay are for security, high insurance premiums, and constant repairs.

I interviewed a McDonald’s employee who works in a very “diverse” restaurant. He confirmed some of my theories and observations and added great additional insights. He mentioned that the restaurant where he works often has to repair bullet holes resulting from drive-by shootings in the street where they are located. Sure, racism could be blamed for the lack of sales in black stores in black neighborhoods, but one might also suggest that many people don’t want to put their lives at risk for a McFlurry or Big Mac.

With that information in mind, and knowing that demographics affects the rate of “broken” ice cream machines, we can draw further conclusions.

Ice cream machines do not know they are in black and Hispanic neighborhoods. Thus, we can probably rule out the existence of “racist ice cream machines” that make a conscious decision to stop working so they can deprive black and Latinx communities of ice cream.

Here is where we intersect with the meta-story about journalism. The objective of journalism is no longer to inform the public, but to weave a story of their choosing into a larger tapestry. Here, we see that the mainstream media was not willing or capable of telling the full story. Millions of people reading and watching the dozens of articles and videos on the matter have been led to believe in a conspiracy theory about ice cream machines and corporate greed, when the reality — and much more plausible tale — is one of basic biological differences between groups of people.

Further, it’s possible, and perhaps even likely, that the current mainstream journalist class is made up of people entirely incapable of uncovering deeper truths and unwilling to process any information that might contradict a larger societal theme. Much like the black franchisees, I’m sure they found a way to blame anybody but those actually responsible.

As is the case with everything else in my “social capital anthology,” this isn’t an article about broken ice cream machines. This is about what happens to a society when even the base level of social functionality — the bare minimum standard required to have something that looks like a real society — cannot be met.

At some point along this trajectory, there will no longer be any upside rationalizations to be found. There will come a time when the people who cannot run the ice cream machine are not doing you a favor by making you choose better food options. There will come a time when the people who cannot run the ice cream machine are running things of a much greater importance. What will society look like when the person who is today a McDonald’s Assistant Manager who can’t or won’t ensure that the fries are hot is tasked with staffing air control towers or repairing bridges and roads? What happens when the worker who decided it “wasn’t his job” to clean the ice cream machine feels the same way about inspecting the brakes on your car? What happens when you very much need something to be done correctly, but everybody at the department in charge of whatever you need are those people who could barely keep an ice cream machine running for a full day?

How does that society look?

A very easy question for contemporary Americans to answer, most especially those unfortunate souls trapped in our urban hellholes. All they need to do is look out their window to see it crashing and burning all around them.

A lengthy excerpt from a lengthy article, of which you simply must read the all.

(Via WRSA)

3

It’s funny ’cause it’s true

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Swiped from one of Glenn’s commenters, via WRSA.

CovidAbortion.jpg

If Leftwits couldn’t contradict themselves eighteen to twenty times before lunch every day, they wouldn’t know what to do with themselves. For them, inconsistency isn’t an aberration, a simple error, or an intellectual shortcoming or oversight; it’s a lifestyle.

The Ministry of Truth

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When lies are truth, truth is a lie, and “reality” is whatever our Masters deign to tell us it is


That double-barreled blast of slug-not-shot truth Tulsi just fired off comes to us courtesy of the esteemed Mike Walsh, who ain’t hardly done yet.

So now the mask has dropped and, for the first time, the American people can see the modern Left in all its hateful, unadorned, vituperative, spiteful glory.

Oh, I dunno about all that now, Mike; there’s been no mistaking who and what they really are for quite a while, for anybody willing to remove his/her hands from over his/her eyes and take a look.

Case in point: the announcement last week that the Department of Homeland Security—one of the excrescences of the Bush administration, cobbled together in its panic over 9/11—has created the “Disinformation Governance Board” in order to combat what it has, via its hitherto little-known Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency, already dubbed “mis-, dis-, and mal-information.” Otherwise known as alternative points of view, but shut up, citizen.

The part I bolded above is emphasized to remind y’all of another of Mike’s Iron Laws: Elect all the Reublicans you like, then sit back and watch as nothing changes.

From its Orwellian name to the repellant leftist virago of obscure origins named Nina Jankowicz who heads it (her Wikipedia entry lacks a precise date of birth, as well as her place of birth and any of the customary details about her family, ethnic and religious background; about all we know is that she’s apparently married to a man named Michael Stein), this moral and political enormity cannot be allowed to stand.

Well, naturally. But then, that’s true of so very many things nowadays.

It is no coincidence that this Frankenstein monster and its screeching harpy boss have sprung to life just days after Elon Musk made his successful bid for Twitter, with a promise to end its blatant censorship of conservative points of view [including mine; I’ve been banned for “targeted harassment” since the summer of 2020, apparently for illustrating the shortcomings of such journalistic apparatchiks as Chuck Todd, Yamiche Alcindor, and Nick Confessore, as well as the “presidential historian” Michael Beschloss], throttling free discourse, seizing private information and holding it hostage, and blaming their NKVD tactics on an “algorithm” developed by their “trust and safety” star chamber.

It also, purely coincidentally, comes directly in the wake of “former” president Barack Hussein Obama’s speech at Stanford University endorsing more public censorship. Be sure to click on the video and listen to Barry, who unlike every other former president and in defiance of presidential custom, still lives in the District of Columbia, just a short drive from the White House.

See? FEAR NOT, Comrades! Your Dearest Leader, His Most Majestic Highness Brrraaap Soetoro Obongo the Practically White, remains in overall command of our benificent government, working as he always has for the benefit of all right-thinking Comrades!! ALL IS WELL!!!

Elsewhere, VDH isn’t feeling terribly sanguine about this wonderful new expansion/power-grab of FederalGovCo’s.

The board’s executive director, Nina Jankowicz, at least has clear qualifications for the post. She previously had spread false rumors on social media that Donald Trump voters would show up at the polls in 2020 armed, and joined the mob’s chorus that Hunter Biden’s laptop was “Russian disinformation.” Perhaps the idea behind her hiring was “it takes one to know one.”

Although the new board’s mandate is unclear, the idea seems to be that Jankowicz and her colleagues will use the federal government’s powers to adjudicate what Americans say as either true or false—and to suppress as “disinformation” anything it doesn’t find useful.

The new war against “disinformation” follows the narratives of the “insurrection” on January 6, the “democracy dies in darkness” return of Donald Trump, and Vladimir Putin as a mastermind gasoline price-spiker. Such narratives are intended to distract us from the Biden disaster and the ongoing assault against constitutional freedom.

When things turn south for the administration, Barack Obama—a sagging Netflix’s $50-million “idea man”—usually emerges from one of his three mansions in Hawaii, Martha’s Vineyard, or Kalorama to lecture clingers and deplorables on various threats they pose to the anointed.

His sermons usually project his own transgressions. Recently, Obama went to Stanford University, in the heart of Silicon Valley, to admonish us that new free speech platforms might tolerate incorrect expression that he and the Left smear as “hate speech.”

But is not Barack Obama ill-suited to lecture anyone on disinformation?

You must be joking, man. Oboomboom is the most prolific, most shameless liar ever to lift his head above the surface of the fetid waters of the DC Swamp to flick his forked tongue lazily to and fro, coldly assessing his surroundings in that blank-eyed reptilian way of his. Ill-suited? I can’t begin to imagine who might be a better fit. There’s nobody on Earth with more experience tilling the fields of disinformatsiya; no man more adept at keeping himself wrapped in a cloak of falsehood to deflect all honesty, integrity, and probity; no man better at wielding lies as if they were the very sword and shield of statecraft. Seriously, now: who could possibly be more qualified for such a role? Back to Walsh for the last trump.

This is why the Disinformation Governance Board must be stopped now. This is the hill to fight and, if necessary, die on. Because, to paraphrase Chris Walken’s line from True Romance before he kills poor Dennis Hopper: this is as good as it’s going to get, and it won’t ever get that good again.

Nope, it most certainly will not. We’ve had fifty fucking years of confirmation of that fact, watching one appropriate “hill worth dying on” after another grow smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, to eventually be replaced by its successor and likewise ignored. For some reason, it all reminds me of a quote from Lysander Spooner, one of his most apposite in these parlous times.

It is manifest that the only security against the tyranny of the government lies in forcible resistance to the execution of the injustice; because the injustice will certainly be executed, unless it be forcibly resisted.

Nailed it. Which the man had quite a way of doing sometimes.

Both via Sefton, who also has the perfect obituary for a murdering Leftist piece of buffalo dung who has thankfully assumed room temperature at long, long last. Burn in Hell, bitch.

Update! Kunstler on point.

The truth is that everything the Left stands for these days is some kind of a hustle—which is the cheap street version of a racket, meaning an effort to extract something of value from you dishonestly. It’s the only way they know how to operate. It necessarily and chiefly depends on the deployment of lies, which by definition are propositions at odds with reality. The more they traffic in lies, the further they must distance themselves from reality and try to coerce you to go along with evermore absurdity: mostly peaceful riots…men-with-ovaries…free and fair elections…insurrection…conspiracy theories…Lia Thomas in the fast lane…safe and effective vaccines…Believe it or else!

The Left ends up at war with reality. That adds up to a bad business model for running a society, and the results are now plain to see. What in the USA is not failing these days? Our Potemkin economy of nail parlors, porn sites, pizza huts, casinos, drugs, and helicopter money? Our reckless relations with other countries? Public and higher education? Medicine? Financial markets? The sputtering engine of government under a phantom president? It’s all sinking into chaos and incoherence. For now, food just costs more than ever; wait until it’s simply unavailable. Nobody will care about anything else after that.

All this failure requires cover stories, narratives. Russia did it! Covid-19 did it! White supremacists did it! Trump did it! Narrative failure would equal failure of the Left altogether, so the Left requires the sturdiest possible apparatus for suppressing counter-narratives that lean in the direction of reality, its enemy. The Left found that apparatus in social media, the new vehicle for political debate, especially Twitter, which was so easily, blatantly, and dishonestly manipulated backstage by mysterious code ninjas. Twitter enjoys subsidy relations with government that incline it to do the government’s bidding. In effect, the government enlisted Twitter to undermine and over-ride Americans’ first amendment protections, by proxy.

Now we have the Disinformation Governance Board to be run by a TikTok musical comedy star, Nina Jankowicz, an instant laughingstock, since retailing disinformation has been her main occupation in the scant years she’s been on the Deep State scene. Ms. Jankowicz is a notorious RussiaGate hoaxer and psy-op agent in the October 2020 emergence of Hunter Biden’s laptop. She has zero credibility as anything but a professional falsifier. Her Disinfo Governance Board has no authority to regulate anything. It’s just a lame charade that can only draw more attention to the Left’s hatred of truth and reality. The Left pretends that free speech is a threat to civilization because, as usual, they are projecting psychologically. Their world is a mirror. In fact, the Left is a threat to civilization.

Yep. Not by accident or mistake, not innocently or ignorantly, but with malice aforethought, and plenty of it. Because they intend to destroy said civilization, and are deadly serious about doing so. And they’ll damned sure do that thing, too, if we let them. They’re not bluffing, they’re not joking, and they’re not just talking tough, either. They’ve been telling us, straight up and without equivocation in recent years, precisely what their intentions are—towards our country, our institutions, our values, and our physical selves. The progress they’ve made towards achieving their goal is nothing short of stunning. It’s high time we take them at their word, get off our asses, and eliminate the threat before they manage to get any further along.

2

Dwight! Buck! Bakersfield!

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Buck Throckmorton displays his impeccable taste in music with a vid of Dwight Yoakam doing a too-short greatest-hits medley on the Grand Ole Opry stage. It is indeed some mighty fine stuff, gooder’n grits and redeye gravy. Unfortunately, though, Dwight somehow failed to include my own personal fave on the setlist, an instant classic called “The Distance Between You And Me.” Please allow me to rectify this oversight.



Buck thoughtfully tosses a little bonus verbiage into the mix.

THROCKMORTON’S FIRST LAW OF LIVE MUSIC: IF THERE’S AN UPRIGHT BASS IN THE BAND, IT’S PROBABLY GOING TO BE GOOD

Ain’t no arguing with that sentiment. Funny thing is, though, that ole Dwight chose to work with both a standup and a Fender bass in the video. I have no idea why; the only other time I can recall seeing anybody using two bass players onstage was when the Playboys opened for Little Richard in NYC: the experienced old road-dog Richard had been using since the late 60s pumping out those sweet licks in the old-school way over on Stage Left, and a much younger Young Turk thumping and popping and slapping some more contemporary Fo’ Da Peepuls funkitudeadelicalicity at Stage Right.

The setup seemed to work well enough to suit Richard’s purposes as the Architect of Rock and Roll, yes. But generally speaking, if you have the fat, round, full-throated sonic ooooomph!! of an upright making your point for you onstage, you have no need of the thinner, midrangey, somewhat nasal skrooonk! of an electric too. Next to a properly mic’ed and/or amplified standup, the electrical whippersnapper is just pointless and superfluous and really needs to get the hell off my lawn.

Plus, you’re padding the payroll unneccessarily by taking on a spare bass player you don’t need—paying for extra meals, extra booze, extra hotel rooms, and assorted other extra goods and services which personal experience tells me you damned well can’t afford.

Then there’s having to help your redundant bassman wrangle his gear into the band van…and believe you me, those Hugh Jass™ Ampeg 8×10 “refrigerator” cabs insisted on by every discerning bass player who has clawed his way up to the less-cramped stages and overly-muscled stagehands characteristic of the midsized-venue circuit are fucking HEAVY, no joke. Topped by an early-70s all-tube SVT head and we’re talking between three and four hundred pounds of bottom-end rumble to lug around, which adds up to some serious no-fun for all involved parties. Nothing else sounds better, or anything like as good. But nothing else is a bigger ass-ache to have to deal with night after night after night out on the road.

When you’re listening to the intoxicating sound an Ampeg SVT rig produces, you love that infernal beast more than the soft, sweet coo of your peacefully-slumbering child. When you’re trying to work your freshly-mangled hand out from under it, or you and three of your least-svelte buds are struggling to manhandle the thing up a staircase lengthy enough to accommodate the takeoff roll of an Antonov An 225 which leads up to the loft in which tonight’s venue is situated, there’s nothing and no one you’ve ever hated worse. Ask me how I know. Go ahead, I dare ya.

Remembering how Dwight Yoakam crashed the country music charts in the late 1980s with raw, retro-country gives me hope that there will someday be another Dwight emerge with a retro-sound that breaks the hold of bro-country/tailgate-rap on modern country music.

We can only hope so. Retro? Fine and dandy, I gots no nits to pick there, either. But what Dwight really was, was a living, loving tribute to the game-changing Bakersfield Sound pioneered by the legendary country artists Buck Owens, Merle Haggard, and Billy Mize, among others. Yoakam was personally close to and did a goodish bit of studio work with Owens, proudly acknowledging his Bakersfield affiliations with 1988’s chart-topping duet with his friend Buck, “Streets Of Bakersfield.” Owens had recorded the song back in 1973 his own self, which quickly died the death upon its release. As is remarkably common in country music, a wonderful backstory comes along with the song.

Homer Joy, the song’s writer, was approached in 1972 by representatives from Buck Owens’ studio in Bakersfield, California, about recording a “Hank Williams Sr. soundalike-album”. Joy initially refused, saying “I don’t want be like Hank, I just want to be me!” Eventually, he agreed to come in and record it, on the condition that he would also get to record some of his own songs as well. After the recording, however, the studio manager told Joy that he’d forgotten that the Buckaroos (Buck Owens’ band) were practicing for an upcoming tour, and that Joy would have to wait to record his original songs.

Refusing to back down, Joy would show up at the studio at 8 AM every morning, only to be told that the Buckaroos were busy and that he would still have to wait. One night, Joy decided to take a walk around downtown Bakersfield, only to have the brand-new cowboy boots he’d been wearing give him blisters all over his feet: “I barely made it back to the car, and on top of that, I was still upset about everything, and I went back to my hotel room and wrote ‘Streets of Bakersfield’.”

As usual, Joy went to the studio at 8 AM the following morning, and the studio manager, out of frustration, grabbed a guitar off of the wall and gave it to Joy, saying, “Sing me one of the songs that you’d record if we could get some time to record it.” As kind of an “in-your-face” gesture, Joy performed his eight-hour-old “Streets of Bakersfield”. Afterward, the studio producer went into the back of the studio, brought out Buck Owens, and had Joy play it again. Owens then said to the manager, “The Buckaroos have the day off, but you call them and tell them that we’re going to do a recording session on Homer this afternoon.”

Buck Owens released a recording of the song in 1973, and while that version wasn’t a major hit, the re-recording he did with Dwight Yoakam in 1988 (with slightly changed lyrics) reached #1 on the Billboard Country Music charts.

That 1988 revisit to the Number One spot was the first for Buck Owens since 1972. Here t’is:



Two things to look out for here: one, the brilliant, fluid guitar stylings of Yoakam’s longtime partner, producer, and behind-the-scenes mastermind, the seriously gifted Pete Anderson; and 2) the always-understated presence onstage of Flaco Jiminez, King of Tex-Mex accordion. When it comes to putting a smile on the faces of his audience, I can honestly say I’ve never been able to watch one of Flaco’s joyous, open-hearted performances without grinning like a mule eating briars.

Flaco got his first big break in the 60s when he landed a regular gig with Doug Sahm, a founding member of the Sir Douglas Quintet (“She’s About A Mover,” featuring a pitch-perfect Vox organ hook from Augie Meyers). Flaco worked with Sahm for years, stepping out to bebop around on his own hook before eventually reuniting with Sahm in the Texas Tornadoes, also sharing stages with fellow music icons Augie Meyers and Freddie Fender.



Good stuff, no? Almost all of those guys are long gone; it saddens me to think that, after bringing so much happiness to so many people, they should be all but forgotten nowadays, fringe weirdos like myself being the ever-lonelier exceptions. I’ll leave you with one last nugget of “Behind The Music” trivia before signing off for the night.

The Cadillac with an upright bass strapped on top of it always brought me a smile in Dwight’s official video for “Guitars, Cadillacs.”

Didn’t bring very many of ’em to Elvis Presley’s original standup bass player, Bill Black. For Elvis, Bill, and Scotty Moore, the hitch-hiking bass wasn’t just a photo shoot, it was everyday life. The boys spent a good chunk of 1955 actually hauling Bill’s doghouse bass around on the roof of Elvis’s newly-acquired pink Caddy (don’t miss the incredibly rare pictures at the link!), which Bill didn’t like even a little bit—all the moreso since he had to hang his arm out the window and hold onto the neck of his fragile, expensive instrument so’s a sudden gust wouldn’t rip the bass up, up, and away, transmogrifying Bill’s pride and joy into so much kindling wood strewn across the Tennessee blacktop. Black disliked his admittedly unappealing circumstances enough as it was, the bitterness and envy at having been eclipsed by Elvis as the star of the show which would torment him for the rest of his abbreviated life already beginning to rankle*.

As you might well imagine, he was absolutely beside himself with rage whenever those April showers came their way.

*In Bill’s opinion, being rudely elbowed out of the spotlight and into supporting-player status was an entirely unfair and ill-considered error in judgment, a mistake which could only damage the combo’s career prospects. From practically the moment the ink had dried on Elvis’ signature on his contract with RCA, the label snootily announced that neither Scotty nor Bill’s presence would be required in the tracking room for the first RCA album. This insult would only intensify Bill’s rancor, the only real chnge in his hostile attitude from then on being the slow shifting of his anger onto Elvis himself, for not standing up like a man to support and defend his erstwhile bandmates. Bill was much older than Elvis, and he had come to regard the soon-to-be King of Rock and Roll as a wet-behind-the-ears kid, easy pickings for the wily, conniving big shots from up North in their chaffeured limos and their fancy suits. These interlopers had obviously seduced Elvis into cutting ties with those who truly cared about him and understood his music and ambitions far better than any damned Yankee ever could. Bill persuaded himself into believing that his primary concern was keeping watch over Elvis, fending off the ravening major-label wolves and looking out for Elvis’s best interests, over and above any conceit or careerist ambitions of his own.

Scotty, reliably affable and easygoing, shared Bill’s sense of betrayal and abandonment at the dastardly hands of a presumed friend who had proven false, only setting his anger and hurt aside after many years had passed and time had attenuated his youthful passions. The BP’s manager had gotten to know Scotty fairly well in the years after Elvis’s death, and says that for a long while there, just about the only conversation anybody could get out of Scotty Moore was “FUCK Elvis, the goddamned backstabbing phony” and such-like. Mostly, while he never had any of Bill’s overbearing, aggressive vanity, he still felt he had been ill-used badly enough to cherish his grudge against Elvis until only a few years before he died. Bill Black, on the other hand, carried his with him to the grave.

The (Im)Moral Minorityajority

Posted on      by     

Daniel misses by the merest of margins, a vanishingly rare occasion which I shall explain anon.

Biden and the entire D.C. elite don’t like wearing masks. Most people don’t. Universal masking is mandated to accommodate a vocal minority, most of whom are not immunocompromised or otherwise especially vulnerable, but who still demand that everyone accommodate them.

This tyranny of minorities has long since come to define the Democrat coalition which knits together single-issue victimhood voters whose pet issue, whether it’s police shootings, green energy, racial justice, men pretending they’re women, or the right of teachers to sexually indoctrinate kindergartners against the wishes of their parents, must take precedence.

That is why the Biden administration will fight for an otherwise unpopular mask mandate.

Democrat political authority comes from the moral authority of defending oppressed minorities. The old Democrat party which asserted that it represented an oppressed majority being kept down by men of wealth has made way for a coalition of increasingly implausible minorities.

Beyond the racial minorities of the civil rights movement, the moral minority consists of wealthy white elites, their sexual fetishes, cultural obsessions, and neurotic tics. Masking is just the latest neurotic tic that the decadent element that makes up its ruling base demands of all of us.

From police defunding to mandatory masking to men roleplaying as women, the outré demands are a minority even within the Democrat coalition. But the minority of minorities, by banding together, take something that only 2% of the country might want and turn it into something that the 31% of Americans who identify as Democrats are obligated to support on the party line.

And if the Democrats win, the will of the 2% is ruthlessly imposed on the 98%.

Whereas when the Democrats permit the Repugnicans to “win,” the will of the 2% is ruthlessly imposed on etc, helpfully sketching in a rough outline of the sub rosa deal that’s been struck between them, a Devil’s bargain intended to keep the Oaf Class pacified and at home on the couch, rather than raising forty kinds of hell out in the streets along with pretty much everybody else.

In the Biden era, the moral assertions weaponized for social media have become fumblingly ineffective. The Left declares that it must wield power in order to protect the power of corporations like Disney and the right of teachers to push sex ed to kindergartners. The remoteness of these causes from any classic paradigm of the oppressors and the oppressed reflects the distance that the Democrats have traveled from any notion of democracy.

The tyranny of minorities also ‘minoritizes’ morality into siloed causes that few can relate to.

Intersectionality labors to sell the various causes to those who have already bought into the coalition. The entertainment industry rushes to turn the incomprehensible trending mishmash of causes categorized as identity politics talking points into songs and shows to sway the public.

Morality requires universally agreed on values which moral minorities attack at every turn. The great effort to transform the existence of moral minorities into its own moral authority through intersectionality requires unsustainable amounts of messaging and outright intimidation. Cancel culture terrorizes people into not speaking or even thinking for fear they’ll run afoul of constantly changing codes that no one except their cultural oppressors can even keep track of.

And this is where my trivial quibble with Daniel’s otherwise flawless analysis comes in. He speaks of “morality” and “values” erroneously implying such things are of any interest whatsoever to Demonrats. I myself have frequently accused the rat-bastard pricks of being amoral, but I’m beginning to realize that’s not quite correct either. The truth is, the Left and its wholly-owned Democrat Party subsidiary are anti-moral, bitterly hostile to any conceivable restrictions a functioning moral compass might impose upon full-body immersion in the dank waters of depravity, hedonism, and self-indulgence. Which, they’re up to their scrawny necks in that soured Sargasso already.

1
1

The sweet, sweet nectar of Progtard tears

Posted on      by     

Arthur on what the Musk/Twitter brouhaha really means for us.

It is glorious. There hasn’t been this much overwrought reeeeing on social media since the 2016 election and he hasn’t even done anything yet.

Let’s be clear. Elon Musk is not one of us, he is not /ourguy/. Mostly he seems like he is a bit crazy. What he is should be enough though, he is an agent of chaos in many ways like Trump: a goofy billionaire who has enough resources to do crazy crap like becoming President or buying a social media company for $44 billion.

I don’t know if he will make the moderators allow free speech or not. I doubt you will be able to tweet “nigger” on Twitter even with Musk in charge. Maybe old suspended accounts will be reinstated, that would nice so I could have my original account with my real name back although I don’t know what I would do with the other half dozen old suspended accounts. At a minimum I expect to see the Babylon Bee reinstated and hopefully Project Veritas and others on the dissident right who have been suspended like Jared Taylor.

It is a little win for /ourside/ not because Elon is /ourguy/ but because this makes the Left so angry and exposes once again how hypocritical they are. I will bask in the tears, sweet and salty tears, for a day or so but the real fight won’t be won on social media.

Bingo. Musk is an ally of convenience, most likely a very temporary one at that. I can’t say I’ve paid a great deal of attention to the guy until this most recent dustup, and I definitely don’t give a damp fart about Twatter. I do seem to recall that Musk is, or was at least, pretty gung-ho on the Climate Change (formerly Global Warming, formerly Global Cooling, formerly “the weather”) scam, one of the leading indicators of latent shitlibbery.

But after watching Musk dangle the Left entire from his finger like the world’s whiniest yo-yo for the last couple of weeks, Mr Musk is all right with me. As I always say: any time Leftists are upset, Americans are winning. No matter how fleeting the victory is, how insubstantial it seems to be, we should still celebrate each win to the fullest. If nothing else, our revelry is sure to make the agony of Le Progtarde last longer and hurt more. Time for this old CF favorite once again, I do believe.



4
1

Can’t hide this decline

Posted on      by     

More Blibberin’ Biden.

Something is wrong with President Joe Biden, and everyone knows it.

Last week, Biden was asked if his administration will consider delaying the end of Title 42, a pandemic immigration restriction that allows for fast deportation of migrants illegally crossing our border in the name of stopping the circulation of COVID-19.

Biden started rambling. “No. What I’m considering is continuing to hear from my — my — First of all, there’s gonna be an appeal by the Justice Department. Because as a matter of principle, we want to be able to be in a position where if, in fact, it is strongly concluded by the scientists that we need Title 42 that we’d be able to do that. But there has been no decision on extending Title 42.”

It turned out he was talking about mask mandates on airplanes and other forms of transportation. That raises the issue of consistency: If the administration will continue to push masks on planes because COVID is still a threat, isn’t Title 42 protecting against that same threat?

But it would at least be nice if the president knew what he was talking about.

Who would seriously expect any such thing from a lifelong ProPol marionette like Howdy Doody Biden? Moreover, WHY would they? It’s not as if Gropey ever DID know what he was talking about, even back in the days before the Alzheimers had taken him completely off his chump and he’d started angrily hooting and cawing at lawn statuary out of the clear blue sky, or attempting to engage parked cars, restaurant awnings, and manhole covers in casual conversation.

This isn’t simply misspeaking. He seems fully out of it, and we’re all watching quietly.

So? What’s anybody supposed to do about it, anyway? Vote for Romney or something?

On Friday, Biden tried to comment on Florida’s new Parental Rights in Education law and came out with this word salad: “There’s nothing conservative about deciding you’re going to throw Disney out of its present posture because Mickey Mouse? In fact, do you think we should be not be able to say, you know, ‘gay’? I mean, what’s going on here?”

Yeah, like you’d have the vaguest clue about that.

On Easter Monday, a reporter at the White House asked Biden about Afghanistan. As he started answering the question, a staffer in an Easter bunny costume appeared, waving her arms in front of Biden’s face and ushering him along to a different part of the event.

It’s funny, sure, but it’s also kind of scary.

But mostly funny. It’s only scary to the kind of nebbish thumbsucker who still thinks the President has anything much to do with actually running the country.

Who is really running the show at the White House? The president often makes comments about what he’s “allowed” to say, how many press questions he’s permitted to take and which specific reporters he can call on. Who is making these decisions? Is Joe Biden the president or not?

Sure he is, for the time being at least. But he’s exactly the kind of “President” The Power always wanted for itself, and finally has: a shambling, stumbling, biddable meat-puppet who goes where he’s told to go, does what he’s told to do, and says what he’s told to say. He knows his part in this theater production and is content to play it, leaving him no reason to offer the Men Behind The Curtain any resistance or grief about it except maybe when he’s having one of his “episodes,” or coming out from under the reanimation drugs.

A half-century spent assiduously licking Deep State ass; learning every twist and turn in the Swamp there is; and enlisting his entire family in building one of the most brazen and barefaced influence-peddling, baksheesh, logrolling, and out and out bribery operations the world has ever seen prepared one Joe Robinette Biden, hack of all hacks, to do the bang-up job of pretending to govern the nation while lining his pockets, rewarding his friends, and punishing his enemies we’re now witnessing. The soulless, witless empty suit is certainly no statesman. He isn’t admirable, honorable, nor particularly personable, at least from what I’ve seen and read of him. What he IS, though, is infinitely malleable, unimpeded by any of the usual traits that would tend to cause a normal person to hesitate, hold back, or stay his hand: ethics, empathy, dignity, basic human decency.

Is Joe Biden the President? Of course he is; as a senescent figurehead guiding a senescent country gently into That Good Night, he’s one of the very best fits for the job there could possibly be in America’s twilight years. It’s just that some of us old dogs need to let go of the archaic notions concerning what a President is supposed to be and to do which we had hammered into us all these years and get ourselves right with contemporary reality, that’s all.

4

Just another American “election”

Posted on      by     

You knew this was coming.

Musk’s Twitter Purchase Fails After 138,000 Board Votes Found Overnight
SAN FRANCISCO, CA—Elon Musk’s bid to purchase Twitter came up short after 138,000 board votes were found at 2 a.m., a company spokesman confirmed Tuesday. Musk had been in talks to purchase the company for $44 billion. 

“We really thought Musk was going to pull this one out,” said Twitter CEO Parag Agrawal. “The yes votes had a strong lead when I went to bed last night, but that was before we counted all the mail-in votes that one of our employees found in locker 142 at the bus terminal.” 

When the final votes were tallied, the takeover bid failed by a final tally of 10 votes for, 138,000 votes against. While the final result came as a shock to most observers, Agrawal said the election was fair. “Twitter takes election integrity very seriously,” he noted. “I can confidently say this was the most secure election in American history.”

Musk, after losing fair and square, went on to level baseless charges of fraud, ballot rigging, and other tampering—wantonly undermining our sacred democracy in so doing—before announcing there would be a violent, seditious protest cum riot cum insurrection held on May 6 in front of Twitter HQ, with the FBI providing hors d’ouevres, party favors, and the Bouncy Castle. Twitter immediately suspended the treasonous Musk’s account for questioning the integrity of what was inarguably an honest, clean, totally above-board election. Now let’s all talk about something else, shall we?

Update! Can’t help but append another sweet Bee-bopper riff.

Eccentric Billionaire Accomplishes More For Free Speech In One Afternoon Than Republicans Have In Decades

Hrm. Better check this one out; I thought it was fanciful satire from the Babylon Bee, but it appears it may be an article from the scalawags over at Not The Bee, being factual and all.

WORLD—According to sources, an eccentric immigrant entrepreneur from South Africa just accomplished more for free speech than Republicans have in decades of controlling the government, wielding Federal power, and spending trillions of dollars.

Experts concur that Twitter being purchased by a private entity instead of publicly owned by shadowy corporate interests and foreign governments will help secure Twitter’s place as a free speech platform. Other changes, such as an open-source algorithm, clear and fairly enforced rules, and a commitment to the free exchange of ideas are expected to accomplish more for freedom and human advancement than anything Republican congressmen have ever done in their entire careers.

“Man, why didn’t I think of doing something like that?” said the Republican Senator. “If you vote for me, I’ll form a committee after the election season to explore the reasons we didn’t think of that!”

To save face, Republicans have promised to cook up something extra special for voters next year in the form of a strong resolution saying free speech is good.

In fairness to Vichy GOPers, though, it really isn’t as if they give much more of a shit about free speech than the Demonrats do. Plus, talking a big game and then spinning their wheels until everyone quits watching and ambles on off to the hot dog stand is sorta their thing, y’know? So it would be only natural for them to react that way this time too; by now, it’s a conditoned response.

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CF Glossary

ProPol: Professional Politician

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

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

Mordor On The Potomac: Washington, DC

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

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

pAntiFa: an alternative spelling of "fascist scum"

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