Non-event announcement

From non-persons Dick Cheney et fille, pumping up their Real True Conservative bona fides with an endorsement of the Kummiemala Harris/Tim “Tamponz 4 Boyz!” Walz Hell-ticket.

I thought Cheney was an homme sérieux. But, in the end, he wasn’t. The Bush years have to be accounted a terrible failure, in which the leadership of the then dominant superpower was unable to grasp the simplest of truths – not least about the need for strategic clarity. Under Cheney, America launched wars with no war aims, in which it deluded itself that “smart bombs” counted for more than will. Meanwhile, on the home front, the rate of Muslim immigration to America doubled…because it was more important to show the world how nice we are than to consider the cultural consequences of demographic transformation. So the west spent twenty years fighting over the most barren and worthless sod on the planet, while surrendering Malmö and Marseille, Rotterdam and Nottingham, and Lewiston-Auburn, Maine. This is what happens when you have a political class almost entirely disconnected from the rhythms of real life in real countries.

So Trump has performed a great service in driving the likes of Cheney to vote Kamala. The feeble charade of TweedleDem vs TweedleRep is designed to obscure the central fact of end-stage western “democracy” – that, on anything that really matters, nothing can be permitted to change. Thus, having Dick Cheney and Ilhan Omar formally on the same team is very helpful. Trump has driven the “respectable” political class to make the Uniparty literal, and its consolidation has freed up space for an actual second party. (On his recent podcast, my former National Review colleague John Derbyshire has more on this.)

For most of this century, while the “right” shrivelled conservatism to unwon wars, globalist economics and cultural surrender, the voters kept telling the political class they would like a wider choice on Election Day. Hence, eventually, even in the frozen American system, the coming of Trumpism. Whatever happens after November, there are no takers among the GOP base for a return to Bush-Cheney “conservatism”.

As for the no-greater-threat-to-our-republic bollocks, it’s just a few weeks since a would-be assassin put a bullet through the ear of the alleged greatest threat. That day provided a telling contrast – between Trump’s defiance in immediately rising to his feet and raising his fist…and Bush on 9/11 being hustled off while in the middle of reading My Pet Goat to a roomful of grade-schoolers and then agreeing to Secret Service demands that he spend the rest of the day on Air Force One being shuttled from one “safe” location to another and thereby rendering himself entirely invisible to the American people.

Be that as it may, it quickly became clear – not least through multiple lies and obfuscations in Congressional testimony – that the Secret Service and other elements in the federal government created the conditions that permitted that bullet to hit a former president in the head (and kill an American citizen). And that’s putting it at its mildest: even after the shooting was underway, it was a local copper – not the feds – who was the first to fire back and hit the alleged perp.

Consider the implications of that, especially if you’re the family of Corey Comperatore. That’s a far “greater threat to our republic” than the man those corrupted alphabet agencies failed to protect. Cheney is contemptible.

Indeed he is, and the sourest realization of all is that he is by no means alone in that amongst his Ruling Class confreres.

1
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H8RRRZ

Feel the love, the “joy,” the compassion, the empathy. That weirdo JD Vance certainly does.


The only thing at all shocking about this is how entirely NOT shocking it is. Still think I’m in any way kidding around, hyperbolizing, or exaggerating for effect when I call them The Enemy and/or say “kill them ALL,” prithee tell?

Sure, I could chase my tail pointing out that the overwhelming majority of abortions are not the result of rape but of using abortion as an alternate, last-ditch form of birth control, but I refuse to waste my time shouting at brick walls.

2
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Another American icon bites the big Woke one

Gonna be a lot of serious re-thinking going on in American bikerdom thanks to this revoltin’ development.

Woke Harley-Davidson CEO Compares Himself to the Taliban
A Harley-Davidson rider can be almost anyone, from an actual Hell’s Angel to your kids’ orthodontist. While the company has had its ups and downs, the bikes have long been an American icon for riders with “a passion for the motorcycle lifestyle, valuing freedom, adventure, and camaraderie,” according to marketing experts Keegan-Edwards.

There’s an image that goes along with the iconic bikes, and although I hardly need to tell you what it is, I will.

That image is: “Islamic terrorist.”

Wait…wut?

In a video just made infamous on Wednesday by Robby Starbuck, Harley-Davidson president, CEO, and Chairman Jochen Zeitz says he became the “Taliban” when he became a board member and says his job is to “take on capitalism and redefine it.”

“It’s important that we create new leadership,” Zeitz said, “that we get others to join a new thinking of a more sustainable business, of a better business that is more equitable in every respect. Socially, environmentally, and financially.”

(For what it’s worth, German-born Zeitz came to Harley from luxury goods company Kering, where he chaired the Sustainability Committee.) 

Customers have noticed Harley’s descent into wokeism since Zeitz came on board in 2020, but comparing his role to the Taliban must count as a new low.

Indeed so. I never thought I’d see the day, and fervently hoped never to. Actually, it never occurred to me that such a thing was even possible. But sad as it is, deeply as it pains me to have to say it, I can only agree with this guy’s assessment.


Pathetic. Dismaying. Maddening. Sickening. Infuriating. William Harley, Arthur and Walter Davidson, the great Jay Springsteen, Chocolate George, Billy “Chains” Flamont, and Sonny Barger are all rolling in their graves like a Shovelhead stroker crank assembly at 6k revs. In their eternal disquiet, they shan’t want for old-school-biker company.

I pray to Almighty God that the Wokester wreckers and despoilers will someday be made to pay for their vile predation, their iniquitous disrespect, their illimitable arrogance, and their callow gormlessness. In at least one way, the usurpers and besmirchers of the proud Harley-Davidson legacy almost certainly will pay ere the end, as Stephen goes on to explain.

David “Iowahawk” Burge, a man who knows more about American car culture than almost anyone else you’re likely to meet, just called it the “Possibly single most hilarious corporate self-immolation of all time.”

It is. And yet I’ve reached the point where I’m not sure I can laugh over the destruction of yet another American icon.

Your typical Harley buyer is going to become like your typical Bud Light buyer: increasingly scarce, driven away by a brand whose management despises them and their values.

I’m forced to conclude that when Zeitz says he’s going to change Harley-Davidson “in a sustainable way,” he means he thinks he can milk the company for several years before the loss of market value and brand cachet forces the board to kick his can to the curb.

It’d be nice to think so, perhaps, but I very much doubt that’s how the story will end. Far more likely, I think, that the Motor Company succumbs finally to the Wokester mind virus, goes out of business, and is forever lost except in the fond reminiscences of people like me.

H-D has very nearly gone under a good few times over its well over a century of sometimes precarious existence. How Kafka-esque it is, then, that after having somehow managed to stay afloat through so many trials and tribulations—WW2; Korea; Vietnam; the late-60s/early-70s calculated flooding of the US motorcycle market by cheap imports from Japan’s Big Four (Hon-duh, Kawasucki, Sudookey, Yammahammablamma); the ginned-up fuel “crisis” of the mid/late 70s; the rise of Safety Naziism in the 80s; the slow strangulation of individual liberty, independent-mindedness, and the quintessentially American spirit of rowdiness, defiance, and devil-may-care ebullience; the crippling effects of economic mismanagement, FederalGovCo meddling, and general malfeasance under D卐M☭CRAT regimes—it should be PC/Woke/Leftardism that ends up killing Harley off once and for all.

Update! Just remembered: for anyone interested in further perambulations from li’l ol’ moi on the Motor Company’s serially abusive, exploitative, and/or contemptuous relationship with its most loyal customers, check it, yo:

I love Harleys. I hate Harley-Davidson. That seems to be the consensus among old-school biker types these days, and they just might have themselves a point, too.

The Motor Company has always had its problems keeping its hardcore fan base happy. It seems to have a special talent for stepping on its own crank and pissing off (or on) the very people who did the most to make it the institution it is today. Ever since I’ve been riding H-D’s (since ‘82), I’ve heard complaint after complaint, and seen the Powers That Be at H-D making the sort of bonehead moves, again and again, that regularly generate those complaints like some sort of whacked-out fuckup factory.

What the hell could they have been thinking when they decided to sue independent bike shops that used “hog” or some variation thereof in their shop name? I’m sure most of you remember that one. It ain’t as if Harley thought that “hog” business up themselves, after all. But they sure were willing enough to glom onto the idea—and then have their slickee-boy lawyers claim it as their very own private property.

That’s the opening ‘graphs from one of my Leatherballs columns—the very first of ‘em, in fact—for the now-defunct Outlaw Biker rag, the rest of which column can be read here. Last time I checked, which I admit has been a minute, the Compleat Leatherballs Archives are exclusively available here at Ye Aulde CF Blogge and absolutely noplace else, seeing as how the OB site went the way of the diplodocus some years back.

I confess to being right proud of the work I produced under the Leatherballs nom de villein, every ounce as much as I am of my twenty-plus years of award-winning, justly (in)famous creative genius at this palatial websty, so I think it only meet and just that the LB catalog should at last find its Forever Home rat cheer at CF. Do check ‘em out if you haven’t yet; even if

  1. You’ve never slung a leg over a leaky, squeaky, shaky, flaky ol’ Gnarley-D in your life
  2. Have not even a tiny, inoffensive, easily-concealable tattoo
  3. Don’t own any H-D dealership T shirts, engineer boots, chain-wallets, or black leather jackets
  4. Don’t drink beer, chase loose women, participate enthusiastically in barroom brawls, and/or have never spent so much as a minute behind bars

…and ain’t about to subject yourself to any of those things at this late stage of the game, I think you’ll find the Leatherballs experience a highly enjoyable ride anyhoo.

Updated update! Just a few more thoughts on the topic I seem to have wandered off to: namely, the Harley-Davidson Motor Company’s perennially-contentious relationship with its core customer base.

For starters, it must be noted that, until the advent of what we hardcores, ironbutts, and/or scooter trash dubbed the RUBbies (ie, Rich Urban Bikers, mimicking the once-ubiquitous “Yuppie” (Young Urban Professional) moniker), long-haired, bearded, burly Hog jockeys were usually welcomed at licensed H-D dealerships with open arms. Most of the folks who owned, managed, wrenched, manned the parts counter or paint shop, or what have you were dedicated, serious riders themselves; as such, they didn’t have a problem with biker trash, even patchholders, habituating their dealerships, whether buying parts or apparel, checking out the new Harleys on the showroom floor, or just hanging out with other bikers to socialize and shoot the breeze.

Growing up on Jap dirt bikes as a child, then graduating to the street with a Kawasaki LTD 550, I had always been intimidated, sometimes even a little bit afraid, of those big, bad, smelly, dangerous Harley outlaw-biker types. And the one constant throughout my entire life has been this bizarre attraction to put myself right in the middle of any situation, company, or environment I was scared of. It was like a compulsion, really. That being the case, being a-skeered of them biker ruffians and all, what else could I do but start spending my Saturday afternoons at the long-gone H-D of CLT shop on S Tryon Street?

To my astonishment and lasting delight, those big, gruff-talking outlaws were without exception some of the friendliest, warmest, most big-hearted people I ever have met. They took this 19 year old, wet-behind-ears shavetail in like a long-lost brother or son, encouraging my interest, offering to help work on or wash my Kawasaki, telling road stories, just generally making the newb feel welcome and entirely at home.

About two years or so of hanging around and establishing my rightful place among Harley enthusiasts, I bought my first Harley: a 1983 Sportster XLH (for nonitiates, an XL prefix=Sportster; FX=Super Glide, Wide Glide, Disc Glide, Lowrider, etc; FL=full-on Hog of fame and legend). It marked the beginning of my lifelong love affair with the smaller, leaner, more nimble sibling to the Big Twins. And incredibly enough, I continued to find the bikers I was meeting more and more of to be unfailingly friendly, outgoing, and quite mellow. In fact, several of the friends I made back then remain close, dear friends to this very day; I just missed a call from one of them, my brother Dean, due to my being in the can taking a whiz. I’ll call him back tomorrow, no worries.

In sum, then, the antagonistic attitude, the officiousness and contempt, wasn’t something I ever encountered at dealerships, independent shops, or bars catering to those scary biker thugs. Except one: an H-D dealership in upstate Virginia, only a mile or thereabouts from I-81 near the West By God Virginia line. The name of the ‘burgh whence this asshole enclave got its name I won’t mention here; the account of that misadventure is recounted in full here. But yeah, trust me on this: assholes, every man in that sorry excuse for a Harley shop was a pluperfect asshole.

Years later, I was told by folks from the area who would know whereof they spoke that I didn’t catch the dealership assholes on an off day; according to these people, the staff of this dealership was renowned for being snotty, obnoxious, and unhelpful. I was informed that, should I ever find myself in similar straits in that locality in future, there was a really cool independent H-D shop not far away on the other side of the I-81 overpass, a small, honest establishment which had nary an asshole, prick, or douchenozzle on the payroll.

I’ve had neither dealings with nor friends at the Motor Company itself, in any of its manufacturing facilities, warehouses, or administrative offices, at any level. What I DO have, though, is several friends who operate or did operate independent Harley shops here in CLT, in ATL, in North Myrtle Beach SC, and in Brooklyn—hell, as I’ve mentioned lots of times here, I spent more than a few years working in a CLT shop owned and operated by my close friend Goose. And those shop-owners and employees have given me a real earful about HDMC’s vicious, adversarial approach towards them.

As I related in the last-linked Leatherballs essay above, their relationships with the H-D knobs consisted entirely of threats, lawsuits, and legal, written, and verbal harassment. I never will forget the day Goose spent a good fifteen-twenty minutes enduring a barely-coherent harangue demanding that Goose posthaste and forthwith remove H-D’s fabled bar & shield artwork from our sign or face consequences most dire. Goose just sat there holding the phone out from his ear snickering quietly to himself until he’d gotten tired of it, whereupon he cut in to calmly and collectedly inform the frothing ass-clown that, y’know, thanks for your concern and all, but the fact of the matter is our shop doesn’t even HAVE a sign, never has had, much less any bar-and-shield logo painted, etched, engraved, or embossed thereon.

Goose slammed the receiver down onto its cradle, and we both proceeded to laugh ourselves sick at the ludicrous H-D dweeb, after which interlude we put the shop Rottweiler in his crate, locked the doors, and walked up the hill to the diner to grab lunch, still laughing all the way HA HA HA HA!

Out of, what, four (five?) proprietors of two-or-three-man independent shops in the CLT area I know well (lemmesee now; threre’s Dean-O, Smiley, Ben, Max, Eyeball, and Country Earl, so six), every one of them called us over the next few days to warn us of the impending telephonic onslaught from H-D’s rep in the York, PA Sporty assembly plant, informing us they’d had the exact same hostile long-distance interaction that exact same week as we two incarcerees of dear old McElhattan’s Machine & Rod had enjoyed, probably with that exact same besuited H-D numbskull, all concluding the exact same way: a thunderous hangup, a moment’s stupefaction over what the blue-black blazing hell THAT was supposed to be, followed by prolonged paroxysms of rib-cracking hilarity. For months afterward all any of us had to say to put the others on the floor rolling, kicking, and crying for mercy, was to launch into his best Goose impersonation: “But…but…but sir, our shop doesn’t even HAVE a sign! Not ANY!!!”

Remember, now, these independent businesses were the very people who had kept Harley going through the nightmare days of the AMF (Annoying Manufacturing Flaw) regency extending from 1969 to 1985, during which Harley’s manufacturing and assembly plants were auto-afflicted by a whopping 50% factory defect rate—which, translated from the book-keeperese, means every other Harley-Davidson motorcycle built and shipped to dealerships was a fucked-up piece of utter, hopeless shite. Your pardon, please: a fucked-up piece of utter, hopeless, EXPENSIVE shite.

Notwithstanding the unpleasant realities, the diehards hung in there with Harley-D, put up with the wallet-exsanguinating cost of parts and labor to get the overpriced lemone Harley had saddled them with running again, whereupon it would break down for the fifty-hundredth time that summer, be re-loaded into the pickup, and go back to the shop for yet another extended stay while the riding-season days ticked agonizingly by. As this soap opera continues, the payment to H-D Motor Credit continues to come due the first of each and every month.

I’m glad I wasn’t a Harley owner back then. If I had been, the urge to just throw up my hands and say fuck it, call the credit agency to please please pretty please come haul this overpriced, chrome-bedecked boat anchor off for repossession, thus freeing me to go buy the rice-grinding Honda I wish I’da bought in the first muhhfuggin’ place would’ve been crushing, totally overpowering.

“Ride With Pride”? Yeh, sure; pride is kinda hard to maintain when you spend more time pushing than riding, unfortunately. “I’d rather push my Harley than ride Jap crap”? In the AMF era, that oath would be put to the sorest of tests. “Better a sister in a whorehouse than a brother on a Honda?” Better ask your sister how she feels about it before you make a firm commitment to anything, bub.

Hey, I got a million of ‘em, ladies and germs. Be sure to try the chicken cacciatore, it’s so delicious it’d make your sweet old mammina weep from pure joy. I’ll be here all week folks, do come back for tomorrow night’s show. Of all the classic bumper sticker lines about Harleys, though, my personal favorite was, is, and forever shall remain: “H-D actually stands for Hound Dog, because they both love riding around in the back of pickup trucks and they both leave puddles where they ain’t supposed to.”

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Say CHEESE!

Francis unearths some unsettling facts which are bound to throw any lover of boxed mac & “cheese” right off his feed.

An uncle to the clan cleared his throat. “Kevin,” he intoned, “you know I sell cheese, don’t you?” The youngster nodded. “Well, it’s about time you learned about the Great Pyramid of Cheese.” And he told them all about it.

It seems that there are places where they make Cheese. The real stuff, straight from the milk, brimming with the odorific and oleaginous virtues that your narrator has found he cannot renounce. And it is good.

Most of it, anyway. Some wheels of cheese just don’t turn out right. But they’re not thrown away, oh, no. That would be wasteful. They’re sold to factors from other shops, which take them in, and melt them down, and add oil, and chemicals, and further processing, and thereby produce… Cheese Food. Cheese Food is regulated by law to contain no more than 49% non-milk additives, and must not contain any but a specified list of preservatives and artificial flavor enhancers. There are people who eat Cheese Food by choice. There are others who are trying to help them.

But some batches of Cheese Food don’t come out right either, and they’re not thrown away, either. They’re sold to factors from other shops, which take them in, and melt them down, and add oil, and chemicals, and further processing, and thereby produce… Process Pasteurized Cheese Food. PPCF is the step down from Cheese Food, and may contain up to 70% non-milk additives, plus a much wider range of flavor and color enhancers, and preservatives that guarantee that it will not spoil over the three months between your toddler’s two demands for a grilled cheese sandwich right now, mom!

And not all of this is saleable, either, but (you guessed it) it’s not thrown away just for that. The rejected barrels are sold to factors from other shops, which take them in, and melt them down, and add oil, and chemicals, and further processing, and thereby produce… Process Pasteurized Cheese Food Substance. PPCFS may contain up to 82% non-milk additives. The flavor and color are almost entirely chemically produced, and the preservatives in it are reputed to be stronger than formaldehyde. Velveeta was once PPCFS, but has moved up the pyramid to Level 3 (PPCF). Cheez Whiz is PPCFS. A number of people have drawn images of the Blessed Virgin on their basement walls with PPCFS from spray cans, and have made quite a lot of money.

But…that’s right. Some of it doesn’t meet the standards for retail-saleable PPCFS. The rejected barrels are sold to factors from other shops, which take them in, and melt them down, and add oil, and chemicals, and further processing, and thereby produce…

Well, it doesn’t really have a name, and it doesn’t need one, either, because all of it is consumed by a single company.

“And Kevin,” the uncle rumbled, “would you like to guess what that company is?”

Little Kevin swallowed and shook his head.

“It’s the Kraft Company, Kevin.”

OOF. Please, I beg of you, don’t anybody tell my kid about this, ‘kay? A diehard devotee of boxed mac ’n’ (kinda-sorta-somewhat, more or less) cheese from an early age, she’s liable to resort to drastic measures if she ever gets wind of it, up to and including mass murder.

The above excerpt is from an old 2007 (!) Porretto post that somehow got by me the first time around; happily, though, Bayou Peter caught it. Or, y’know, UNhappily, as the case may be.

PRO TIP: Back when I was still able to bestir myself now and then to whip up some honest to God scratch-made macaroni and cheese, I came up with a concoction I dubbed Tex-Mex Mac & Cheese, made with one (1) can of Original Recipe Ro-tel (my perennial standby; like the iconic Texas Pete hot sauce, it makes ANYTHING better); cheddar and Monterey Jack cheeses; pasta shells or ziti (NOT elbow macaroni, unless I had nothing else on hand); and thick-sliced, hefty hunks of Zatarain’s andouille sausage in portions generous enough to draw a sigh of blissed-out contentment from even the most decadent of bipedal root-hogs.

Delicious as it was, and it assuredly was, I never could persuade Madeleine to so much as try the stuff, alas. In those days, she didn’t care much for andouille, whereas tomatoes in any way, shape, or form—canned or fresh off the vine, sliced, diced, chopped, pureed, or etc—were completely out of the question.

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Just your basic Mark-1 Mod-0 D卐M☭CRAT

Communist, coward, child-mutilation advocate, self-serving liar, Blue Falcon—what more does anybody really need to know about the loathsome Tim Walz? D卐M☭CRATs just don’t come any more D卐M☭CRAT than this.

Fellow veteran speaks out on Walz’s misleading statements about military record
“As soon as the shots were fired in Iraq, he turned and ran the other way and hung his hat up and quit,” said Tom Behrends, a retired command sergeant major who replaced Gov. Tim Walz on a deployment to Iraq.

On a 150-year-old farm in Brewster, Tom Behrends hopes his tell-it-like-it-is style will finally get the attention he believes it deserves in Minnesota’s race for governor.

“The public needs to know how pathetic his leadership was as a National Guardsman,” Behrends said about Gov. Tim Walz.

“He abandoned us. What the hell kind of leader does that? As soon as the shots were fired in Iraq, he turned and ran the other way and hung his hat up and quit,” Behrends said.

This all starts years ago, when Behrends says Walz’s misleading statements about his military service first led him to come forward in the fall of 2018. The story was largely ignored and Minnesota’s largest newspaper, the Star Tribune, checked it out but decided not to publish, according to Behrends.

“When the reporter called, I thought, ‘What the hell, is this North Korea?’” Behrends recalled. Alpha News reached out to the Star Tribune but didn’t receive a response.

Back in early 2005, a warning order went out to southern Minnesota’s First Battalion-125th Field Artillery to mobilize for a mission to Iraq, Behrends said. Walz served as the unit’s highest non-commissioned officer after he was conditionally promoted to command sergeant major on April 1, 2005, records show. On May 16, Walz retired from the guard, avoided the deployment, and ran for Congress.

Walz has implied in previous statements that he didn’t retire because of the deployment, but National Guard records show his service obligation wasn’t complete until September 2007.

Behrends was next in line for the position and was asked to take his place.

“I was like well, for Pete’s sake, if this guy quits, if I say I’m not going to do it, I mean, what the hell kind of leadership is that?” Behrends recalled. “If a company would say we’re going to deploy to Iraq and the foreman says, ‘I’m not going,’ what does that say to the 500 that work in that factory?”

Command Sergeant Major Behrends went on to serve in Iraq on a nearly two-year deployment, all while Walz began using that very title as a congressman.

Behrends said he contacted Walz with his concerns before raising the issue publicly, sending letters to Washington in 2016. The letters all went unanswered, Behrends said.

Because of course they did; the pus-nutted scumsack Walz being who and what he is, he would’ve been much too chickenshit to own up to his true cut-and-run-D卐M☭CRAT nature. The sick-making story goes on in like vein from there, if you have the stomach for more of it. Then there’s the rest of Walz’s vile family:


Indeed they are. Yet JD Vance is supposed to be the “weird” one.

3
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Wanna know why the Moslems are winning?

This. This right here is why.


Or, in a nutshell.


That about covers it, I think.

3
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I don’t think this is quite what GEN McAuliffe meant by “Nuts!”

Having mentioned a certain deranged lunatic in tonight’s Eyrie outing, I figure one good dementoid spazz-out deserves another. Enjoy, folks.


So very much I could say about this howlingly funny Manwoman and his parodically-overwrought misrepresentation of how a real woman typically conducts herself, but somehow I shall restrain myself. Do stick with it until the freaky-deaky geek removes his wig and hurls it to the ground; unlikely as it may seem, things don’t really get rolling until that point.

Say it with me, people: perfectly sane, healthy, and as one-hunnerd percent gin-yoo-wine normal as you, me, or anybody else.

2
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Elon explainer

Well, this is certainly…my GOD man, I just can’t even begin to…that is to say, it’s…I mean, like, WOW, brother, that is some heavy-duty…uhhh…ummm…uhhhhhhh

Elon Musk says trans child was figuratively ‘killed by the woke mind virus,’ vows to destroy it: ‘My son is dead’
Tesla CEO Elon Musk believes his estranged transgender child was “killed by the woke mind virus” after he was tricked into giving his consent for puberty blockers.

The 53-year-old billionaire vowed to “destroy” the “incredibly evil” culture that allows the gender reassignment surgery that his 20-year-old child Vivian Jenna Wilson, who was born Xavier, got in 2022.

“I was essentially tricked into signing documents for one of my older boys, Xavier,” the X owner told psychologist Dr. Jordan Peterson in a Daily Wire interview.

“This is before I had any understanding of what was going on. COVID was going on, so there was a lot of confusion and I was told Xavier might commit suicide if he doesn’t…”

Peterson suggested it “was a lie right from the outset” because there was no clinical evidence to support the claim.

“It’s incredibly evil, and I agree with you that the people that have been promoting this should go to prison,” Musk stated firmly.

Musk said it was never explained to him that the puberty blockers were “actually just sterilization drugs.”  

“I was tricked into doing this,” Musk said.

Jeez, what can one say? My heart goes out to ya, Mr Musk, sir, it truly does. The Evil Left—and Evil is most definitely the mot juste—has a lot to answer for, and I do mean a LOT. Another rerun of the incomparable Andrew Breitbart’s signature riposte is in order here, I do believe.

But…but…but…but…

MUH SACRED DIMUHCRACEEEEE!!!


Gee, looks one HELL of a lot worse than the phonus-balonus J6 “insurrection,” don’t it? Wonder if there’ll be so much as even ONE arrest made? Never mind, don’t answer that one, please.

(Via Dave Renegade)

1
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Trump shot, wounded

Blubberous, bumbling, female Didn’t Earn It SS hires hardest hit.

Secret Service says it’s appalled by DEI rhetoric against female agents after Trump rally shooting
Saturday’s shooting is the latest instance of right-leaning social media accounts trying to link diversity, equity and inclusion programs to deeply troubling news events.

The U.S. Secret Service said Wednesday that it stood by its female agents and was appalled by some of the criticism they’ve received on conservative social media since Saturday’s attempted assassination of former President Donald Trump. 

The Secret Service, in a statement to NBC News, said that the criticism from pundits and influencers was baseless. The agency also stood by its commitment to diversity in recruiting as helping, not hurting, the effectiveness of its protective teams. 

The statement follows a multiday campaign of derision by some conservatives who accused Kimberly Cheatle, the Secret Service director, of being unqualified and who said that female agents assigned to Trump hadn’t been physically capable of protecting him. Some critics said the Secret Service should return to being all-male, which it hasn’t been since 1970. 

Anthony Guglielmi, the Secret Service’s chief of communication, said in the statement: “We stand united against any attempt to discredit our personnel and their invaluable contributions to our mission and are appalled by the disparaging and disgusting comments against any of our personnel.” 

“As an elite law enforcement agency, all of our agents and officers are highly trained and fully capable of performing our missions,” he said.

Trump was wounded in his right ear at Saturday’s chaotic rally in Butler, Pennsylvania. An attendee was killed trying to protect his family, and another two were seriously injured.

Yep, sure sounds like a two-thumbs-up Mission Accomplished to me, gals.

5
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The burning question

To wit: Do they A) fear us, and are just stupid fucking morons, or do they B) hold us in contempt, and are just flinging shit directly into our faces for the sheer fun of it? I report, you deride.

Secret Service director gives bizarre reason why an agent wasn’t on the roof where gunman Thomas Matthew Crooks opened fire on Trump as she rejects calls to resign
Embattled Secret Service head Kimberly Cheatle has revealed the fateful and bizarre reason why her agency failed to put an agent on the roof gunman Thomas Matthew Crooks used to carry out an assassination attempt on Donald Trump.

Cheatle, who is facing calls to resign over the massive security failure, said Secret Service officials planning security for Trump’s rally in Butler, Pennsylvania considered the warehouse 147 yards away from where Trump spoke to be a risky position for stationing an agent.

“Too risky,” y’unnerstand, because of this fearsome *shudder* “slope” to the roof—a slope which bothered our youthful assassin not one iota, but apparently is simply too dangerous for a blubberous Girlboss to handle without placing her rolls of neck-flab at mortal hazard.

Yep, that’s awfully gosh darned scary alright; I’d hate to try skiiing it, that’s for sure and certain. In fact, I’d bet everyone reading this is gonna have bad dreams just from seeing a picture of it, and not just for a single night either.

Okay, okay, okay, here’s the real deal: I slid down WAY more “vicious” slopes sitting on a piece of cardboard shared betwixt the neighborhood kids when I was still in knee-britches. Laughing all the way HA-HA-HA too, as the old song says. Yet somehow or other we all survived, incredible as it may seem. Apparently, we were all made of much sterner stuff at 7 years old than any modern-day Girlboss SS agent. I dunno, make of it what you will.

Chilling new details have revealed that a team of local police snipers were inside the building when the 20-year-old Crooks opened fire, shot Trump in the ear and killed a member of the rally crowd.

INSIDE the building when, as Ace notes, their primary purpose and function is to be able to identify, engage, and eliminate threats at distance, not in the same fucking room with them. Nota very fucking bene also that 1) we for goddamned sure need ourselves a new SS director, 2) I am willing to work cheap, and 3) have just now established beyond all possible doubt I could do a much, MUCH better job of it than this Kim Choadle bimbette has.

Crooks managed to evade cops and Secret Service three times, even though he had been deemed ‘suspicious’ and could have been on the roof for up to 30 minutes before he pulled the trigger.

Witnesses also begged law enforcement to act when they saw him clamber onto the roof with his AR-style rifle, but the lapse in security meant he was able to carry out his bid to take the 45th president’s life.

“Evade,” is it? How sure of that ARE we, really?

Of course, Msrszxx Director Kimberly “Pronouns Undetermined” Cheatle doesn’t actually believe any of the intelligence-insulting flapdoodle she’s emitting, you know; fact is, she made it all up out of her own oblated head herself on the spur of the moment and (up)chucked it out purely for her own personal amusement, as indicated by her firm refusal to do the decent thing and resign her position in disgrace. SHE doesn’t believe it, her own overseers don’t, and not a one of them cares whether YOU do, obviously, nor if anybody else does. That tell you anything, p’raps possibly? Because if you ask me, it damned well ought to.

Back over to the AoSHQ post for the sad, sorry denouement.

No…125 meters is not a long shot. If you’re going to be a shooter that’s a free throw. Yes I’m aware a lot of gun owners couldn’t hit a 4″ plate with 4 tries but I don’t care my point stands.

Yes the secret service looked like shit on a stick. Sure they worked hard to get hired. Sure they try. Sure they passed all the tests. Still had a massive failure and looked like hot butter shit and I’m ashamed we as a country look like THAT at a critical moment. And I’m going to rail them harder than Ginger Lynn for that embarrassment of a shit show. And I’m not going to pretend better, bigger more physically qualified people were probably not offered the job for “reasons”.

I have eyes.

We are for damn lucky a 20 year old used a garbage rod and choked on mom’s spaghetti because the chick in charge of the SS sucks and put the C-team on the biggest target in political history. Only to have body positive diversity hire DUCK OUT OF THE GOD DAMN WAY at the critical moment and then couldn’t holster her gun through her fat roll!!! And I’m supposed to be proud of this? I’m supposed to think this was a good and professional operation? This was well planned and organized by the one chick who’s one job it is to make sure this doesn’t happen?

That’s what I’m to accept? That’s where we are? That THIS is the best we can do? The best we have? The best protection we can give to the one guy the world all knows is the biggest target in 2024 in politics?

And the after action report we just got was fucking mission accomplished? Really? Everybody in charge just slaps each other on the back, says “good job” and we go back to hoping the next guy uses a Century Arms CETME???

We all make fun of the fat bubbas who can’t get to their holster through their gut and thinks he’s going to be a super soldier in CW2 The Electric Boogaloo, but I’m supposed to not notice the chicks fupa is maybe an issue in doing her duty as a god damn Secret Service agent?!?

Excellent questions all, and extremely depressing ones to have to be asking ourselves as well.

Update! Further, and worserer, details.


I repeat: stinks, all to hell and gone. Better be checking six continually, President Trump, sir—head on a swivel, total SA. Another urgent recommendation: consider private security, assuming you haven’t already hired some.

Updated update! Mission Improbable.

Scooped a bunch more related good ‘uns from WRSA tonight, which I’m saving up for tomorrow’s edition of Memezapoppin’!

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Teh Cray-cray is STRONG with this one

Do please remember as you read this, gang, that they’re the caring, tolerant, compassionate, non-violent, more evolved, rational, and enlightened ones. If you don’t believe it, just ask them, they’ll tell ya alllll about it.

Watch — ‘Orange Is the New Black’ Star Lea DeLaria Begs Biden to Assassinate Trump: ‘Blow Him Up’
In a social media post shared to Instagram and TikTok, DeLaria went on (an) unhinged rant against former President Trump and begged Joe Biden to kill him as an act of war.

“Joe, you’re a reasonable man,” she said in a post that garnered over 9,000 Likes. “You don’t want to do this. But here’s the reality: This is a fucking war. This is a war now, and we are fighting for our fucking country. And these assholes are going to take it away. They’re going to take it away.”

“Thank you, [Supreme Court Justice] Clarence ‘Uncle’ Thomas. Joe, you now have the right to take that bitch Trump out. Take him out, Joe. If he was Hitler, and this was 1940, would you take him out? Well, he is Hitler. And this is 1940. Take him the fuck out! Blow him up, or they’ll blow us up. Facts,” she added.

DeLaria justified these actions as an act of war.

“It’s all out war now. They will destroy us. They only want power…like all tyrants. FUCK THEM!!! And if any of you assholes wanna death threat me like you have been doing for my entire life, bring it on bitch. I’m Sicilian, I know how to play that game,” she said.

Any time you feel froggy, psychobitch. War, you say? Careful what you wish for, dearie, lest fed-up-to-the-eyeteeth Normals raise up on their hindlegs at long, long last and give you one. I assure you, you won’t enjoy it. “Death threats” will be the very LEAST of your worries when/if that kicks off, and “Sicilian” ain’t gonna intimidate anyone, nor stay any hands either.

Gotta be the most debilitating case of Trump Derangement Syndrome on record. Get professional help, that’s my advice, before you bust a blood vessel. Failng that, a nice, loooong lie-down in a bathtub full of ice might be the way to go.

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The Great and Powerful Oz

Feel sorry for the addle-pated, megalomaniacal Too Aulde Jaux? Diplomad snorts, contemptuously and with malice aforethought, that’ll be the fucking day.

Let me take that up.

Feel sorry for Biden?

Nope. Not one bit. For the past fifty years, Biden has been one of the most disgusting, unprincipled politicians on the American scene. Look up his performance on the Clarence Thomas hearings, for example. He stole years’ worth of classified documents, tried to peddle them to a ghost writer, participated in his crack head son’s shady businesses, took money from foreign businesses and governments, and was clearly a racist and an abuser of women, and his daughter. He is a borderline pedo. He tanked his first run for the Presidency when he plagiarized an entire speech from, of all people, Neil Kinnock (Ugh!) He has been a serial fabulist making up wild Walter Mitty-type stories about his past, e.g., arrested on his way to see Mandela, taking on Cornpop. He has lied repeatedly about his first wife’s death, and that of his son, Beau. More important, he has been a disaster as President, and has caused our nation, and the West serious, perhaps irreparable harm. He has destabilized the Middle East; led Putin to invade Ukraine; encouraged Iran and its proxies to seek nuclear weapons and increase their global terror campaign; he has opened our border and our society to a flood of millions of illegal aliens from all over the world, murders, rapes, and other mayhem have followed.

Feel sorry for him?

Hardly. 

UltraubermegaMAGA-dittos, Mr Diplomad, sir. Me, I intend to save my sympathy for someone actually deserving of it. Which is not now, nor will it ever be, the corrupt, mouldering oxygen thief currently befouling the Oval Office air by his noxious presence therein.

I’ve stated before here, and still mean every last word of it, that I fervently hope every minute of the usurper Biden’s time in the office he desperately lusted after for lo, those many decades will add up to the most miserable, frustrating, unpleasant days of his entire useless existence, right up until the frabjous day he finally keels over dead in his exorbitantly overpriced desk chair. After all the suffering, deprivation, and disaster he’s wreaked during half a century of suckling gluttonously at the government teat, let the shambolic shitbag suffer his own damned self—as much suffering as he can endure, plus some. The thought of such as he finally grabbing (stealing, more like) the brass ring, then going on to live happily ever after perched behind the Resolute desk rankles me to an intolerable degree.

Petty of me, mean-spirited, even? Meh, could be, could be. Don’t give a lumpy fart, don’t care who thinks it is.

Entertaining as it was for Real Americans, however, there’s a broader, more pressing point lurking beneath the surface of last week’s debate-night debacle, and Caitlin Johnstone makes it.

If people really believed the president runs the country, they’d be freaking out that Biden in his demented haze might order an attack on the Soviet Union or nuke Libya to kill Muammar Gaddafi or something. They’re not worried that this will happen because they know their government is actually being run by unelected empire managers from behind the scenes, and that Biden is just the official face on the operation.

Perhaps more troubling is that evidently, people in the main trust those unelected empire managers to do a good job of running things, and harbor a naive and unfounded faith in the good intentions of said managers. They seem to believe that, even though this unwholesome arrangement isn’t the way things were supposed to be in America, at the end of the day the Deep State’s Grey Men are patriotic Americans not all that different from themselves: fundamentally decent, honorable men and women who share similar aspirations, desires, and values to the ones they hold dear.

Whatever their personal foibles, failings, and trivial departures from traditional life and thought, the Government Greyfaces nonetheless love puppies, children, Grandma, and backyard cookouts with family and friends. They love their country, its people, its customs, and respect its history. They stand, salute the flag, and sing the national anthem at baseball games. They would never harm, harass, bully, or in any manner traduce the Constitutional rights of any solid, law-abiding citizen without cause. Only criminals, outlaw bikers, public nuisances, and dope fiends need fear their wrath, which is no more than meet and just.

They celebrate 4th of July and Christmas, take the kids out trick or treating on Halloween, enjoy the annual Thanksgiving gathering and the post-feast NFL game, and consider themselves to be good Christians, if maybe not always quite as good as they really should be. They work hard to fulfill their sworn duty to protect and serve, pay their taxes in full and on time, wear their seatbelt, drive safely and courteously, and keep to their own lane and tend to their own business in general. They don’t complain, don’t drink to excess, don’t abuse, neglect, or mistreat their wife and kids. They keep their lawns neatly manicured, their homes tidy, clean, and well-maintained.

Y’know, just like the rest of us. Right? RIIIGHT?!?

Unfortunately, as thousands of our fellow Americans have learned to their great cost over the last five-ten years, Joe Squarejohn has all of the above entirely assbackwards and wrong.

So in order to hold their mainstream worldview together, liberals are simultaneously straddling the two completely contradictory concepts that (A) it doesn’t matter who the president is because the country is actually run by unelected empire managers, and (B) that Biden’s debate performance was very concerning because it means Trump will become president.

In reality the US empire has marched along in all its usual depravity despite its official leader having Swiss cheese for a brain this entire time. They got their genocide in Gaza and their world-threatening proxy war against Russia, as well as China policy that is vastly more hawkish than that of Biden’s predecessors. The imperial murder machine hasn’t skipped a beat in its nonstop campaign of steadily increasing global tyranny.

This has happened because US presidential elections are fake and the results don’t matter. It wouldn’t matter if Americans elected a labrador retriever or a bottle of Tabasco sauce; the empire would roll forward without the slightest interruption. The wars would continue. The economic injustice would continue. The surging authoritarianism would continue. The oligarchy and corruption would continue. The ecocidal capitalism would continue. The imperialist extraction would continue.

US elections are just a diversion to keep Americans from pushing for real change in ways that pose a meaningful challenge to power, and Americans already kind of know this. The sooner they stop compartmentalizing away from this fact that they’re already dimly aware of and face reality, the sooner they can start bringing health to both their nation and the world.

There’s abundant fodder for dispute here—“genocide” in Gaza, “ecocidal” capitalism, “hawkish” China policy—standard issue, Mark-1 Mod-0 shitlib shibboleths all, with no more truth in ‘em than there is in any given Faux Jaux Bribem speech. As for “bringing health” to the world, that ain’t no way no how America’s job, nor is it within America’s power to do, nor should any sensible person want America to take a stab at it, much less succeed. Fact is, most if not all of the trouble and woe the world is staring down the muzzle of at present is the predictable end-product of endless attempts by arrogant Überstadt lackwits to “bring health to the world,” by hook or by crook.

“Health,” you say? Whose definition of “health,” pray tell? What about people whose conception of “health” conflicts with the officially authorized version—are they to be assaulted, jailed, or coerced into toeing the party line by some other method—a tax penalty, a fine, a travel ban, summary disbarment from social interaction, gainful employment, grocery stores, commercial and/or banking privileges, say? Shall The Deciders’ definition of “health” be put to a vote? Will said definition be subject to review and revision? If so, how often, and by whom? Will a Select Blue-Ribbon Committee for the Advancement of Global Health need to be established? Should Committee members be elected or appointed? If they’re to be appointed, how will those appointments be made, and by whom—the (formerly) sovereign states, POTUS, the EU, the UN? By what criteria will those appointees be selected? Will said criteria also be subject to periodic review and/or revision? How long a term will Committee members serve? A year, two years? Ten years, until death?

You begin to see the problems here, I suspect, popping up their ugly heads like gophers in a truck patch. Any subject of a bloated Leviathan goobermint will recognize them without having to think very hard or long about it, such problems are all too familiar in those districts. Worse, the aforementioned list is only the beginning; many, many additional problematic questions will soon follow, as surely as night follows day. Naturally, the answers to those multitudinous questions never, ever vary in the slightest:

  • More money
  • More regulation
  • More paper-shuffling hirees, average salary: 80,000 dollars/yr
  • More supervisors to make sure the paper-shufflers (none of which can ever be fired, no matter what, by law) remain attentive to their pointless duty
  • More power and control, as much as they can possibly glom for themselves

After reviewing them, the eternal answers above suggest a new addition to Mike’s Iron Laws, covering all government departments, bureaucracies, and programs. To wit:

  • Its mandate will never expire
  • Its purview will never be limited
  • Its original mission will never be accomplished, its goals never achieved, its stated intentions never fulfilled
  • Its budget will never be cut, likewise the number of its employees
  • Its authority will never diminish, only expand
  • Its reach will never be constrained

In sum, government programs and agencies are a lot like those pestiferous gophers: if you don’t whack ‘em in the noggin with a BFH (Big Fuckin’ Hammer, in the time-honored greasemonkey acronym; see also, RCH) the instant the first one shows up, tomorrow morning there’ll be another one, then more and more and more, until before you know it the whole garden is infested. At which juncture the only thing left to do is just throw your hands up, walk away from the whole sorry shebang in disgust, and let the stupid critters have the place all to themselves. Try again next spring, maybe, assuming you’re feeling froggy enough for a rematch.

My piffling objections aside, though, Johnson’s central thesis re the perpetual Shadow State power behind the White House throne holds up pretty well.

Update! Related? Oh, you just bet your sweet bippy* it’s related.

You knew that Biden lost his marbles long ago, but the propaganda press has been telling the world that he’s just fine for years. For those people who rely upon Deep State programmers to tell them what to believe, seeing Biden disintegrate on the debate stage must have been stunning. Mainstream news corporations have been covering up Biden’s mental infirmities for so long that too many Americans watched Biden struggle to form sentences for the first time. Just as reporters in the first half of the twentieth century lied to the American people about FDR’s reliance upon a wheelchair, reporters in the first quarter of the twenty-first century have lied to the American people about Biden’s debilitating dementia. On June 27, the lid on journalists’ barrel of Biden-protecting lies shot right off.

Not even halfway through Biden’s debate disaster, his communications people were spreading a new lie — that he was suffering from a cold — to explain away his enfeebled and bewildered presence on stage. Maybe that desperate excuse would have worked on some of his most partisan supporters had Crooked Joe just gotten back from a whirlwind global tour during which he had spoken before several foreign parliaments and helped negotiate world peace, but the guy had been hiding away at Camp David for over a week! When you first tell the public that you are unable to perform your presidential duties and prepare for a debate at the same time and then tell them that your weeklong debate camp destroyed your immune system, you aren’t in a position to inspire sympathy. How nice it would be for every blue-collar worker suffering from a cold to be able to take a full week off for some rest and relaxation in a taxpayer-funded vacation home without losing any pay in this lousy economy!

No, the only thing the “Joe has a cold” lie accomplished was to make people wonder whether a simple virus could also explain Kamala Harris’s cognitive handicaps. It is no secret that some very stupid people have risen to the heights of power in the American government. A cynic might speculate that the bureaucratic Deep State and national security surveillance State prefer Potemkin “leaders” who can be easily manipulated and controlled. Still, with Biden and Harris occupying the top two leadership spots at the same time, the American people feel as if they have been forced to watch another unwatchable Dumb and Dumber movie that refuses to come to an end. While The New York Times and D.C.’s polite society have pretended that Old Joe and Cackling Kamala have “restored dignity” to the White House, ordinary Americans have been shaking their heads all along at two of the most dull-witted morons ever to putatively obtain the reins of power. The presidential debate simply confirmed that Dumb and Dumber are not running the government; those two can’t even answer basic questions without discombobulating.

If the two figureheads catapulted into high office by mail-in-ballot fraud aren’t running things, then who the hell is? Is it the cabal of Marxist military chiefs promoted not for their intellect and skill but rather for their compliance with DIE foolishness? Is it the collection of spooks and assassins enjoying unchecked power and limitless black budgets over at the CIA? Is it the elite club of investment bankers who print money and manipulate markets while riding roughshod over central banks? Is it the small number of financial powerhouses such as BlackRock, Vanguard, and State Street that manage trillions of dollars in assets all over the world? Is it the gaggle of billionaires such as Bill Gates, Jeff Bezos, and Elon Musk who buy and sell entire industries as if they were trinkets from a garage sale?  

Whoever might be running the United States, it is certainly not anyone elected by the American people. If that were not obvious before 2016, it quickly became so once the Deep State engaged in an ongoing coup d’état against President Trump and replaced any vestigial respect for the will of voters with a criminal enterprise allowing political operatives to print, fill out, collect, and count as many ballots as necessary for “victory.

There’s more, much of it an extended rehash of the tired They’re terrified of us! cope, which I still ain’t buying for a minute. Go ask any of the never-tried/never charged folks even now languishing in the Goolag for unspecified Crimes Against The State concomitant to the spurious J6 “insurrection”—or Peter Navarro, or Steve Bannon, or God alone knows how many other innocent American political prisoners—just how “terrified” the Stasi scumbuckets look from where they’re sitting.

* Autodating Geezer Reference™ explicated here

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Best D卐M☭CRAT ProPol EVAR!

The reasoning herein is pretty tough to argue with, I’d say.

I’ve posted this before, apparently it’s an unpopular opinion because I keep seeing tons of conservatives post that Biden will be replaced before the election.

I don’t think there is any chance in the world that Biden will be replaced. He is far and away the best at giving democrat voters what they need.

Biden lies. And he performs his lies on a level that not even AOC or Newsom could ever possibly dream of doing. He hits the whisper and hits the angry yell every single time. He creates the straw man and passionately knocks it down. “They are going to end social security but I won’t let it happen. I will always be here for you.” He accuses Republicans of doing exactly what he and his party is doing and he doesn’t ever flinch.

Only Biden could spend 2020 campaigning on opening the border, on not deporting anyone, spend three years ignoring the problem, and then spend this year blaming it on Trump. That is not as easy to do as people think. Only Biden could look into the camera and claim that inflation was at 9% when he took office. The average sleazy politician can’t do what Biden does. Even the worst politicians have some limits.

“I’ve never discussed business with my son.” This is so ridiculous it’s hard to describe. He flew to China and to Ukraine with his son. The same guy who claimed that he talked to his son every day about every little thing claims he never discussed business with his son on their 18 hour flights. Biden never backed down on this lie. Biden even claimed that he learned about Hunter joining Burisma via the newspaper. Think about that.

Only Joe Biden could have his DOJ investigate Trump and then have the nerve to claim “I had nothing to do with it because I’m honest.” Who would say that? Most politicians care about how things appear. Biden could not care less. He didn’t care when he was representing the credit card company that was paying his son. He doesn’t care how things look. Only Biden could write the 94 Crime Bill and turn around and claim he opposed mandatory minimums, even going as far to claim that he got into politics because of civil rights. Biden is willing to say whatever his audience wants him to say. It doesn’t matter how far fetched the lie is, Biden will say it. And he will perform the hell out of it.

The only politician alive with close to Biden’s ability to passionately and shamelessly lie like him is Nancy Pelosi. These two are world class, miles ahead of other democrats. The best to ever do it.

Biden has one speech. On his death bed he could still give this speech and it would emotionally move democrats. He lies about his son’s death for goodness sake. What other politician alive would do that? Only Biden could run on “uniting the country” and then turn around and give prime time speeches on how his political rivals are existential threats, claiming it’s all in the name of unifying the country. There are no rules with Biden. It’s all a game to him. It’s just a game. He will say anything at anytime, he doesn’t give a damn about what he said yesterday. He brought the press to his kid’s hospital beds in 1972. Brain dead or not, this guy is on a whole different level. Biden based his entire 2020 campaign on a hoax. And he performed the Fine People Hoax every single day for a year and a half, knowing it was all BS. He forced himself to cry for George Floyd, multiple times. Newsom and the other young democrats can’t hold a candle to Biden, even if his brain is half fried.

Biden will win the debate because the media has already decided he will win the debate. He will accuse Trump of doing everything that he is doing. The media are democrats and Biden gives them what they need. He will say nothing new. He will perform the same ridiculous lies with passion and the media will praise him for it. And if he is President four years from now they will wheel him out and he will give the same exact SOTU speech he has given the past two years, word for word, and democrats will love him for it. He has zero conscience, there is nothing there. Don’t underestimate that, it’s more rare than people think. Biden is the best to ever do what he does.

Probably so, yeah. Especially seeing as how what he does is in actuality entirely dishonest, reprehensible, low, and utterly, utterly despicable. Come to think of it, Too Old Jaux is a very model of his breed. And why not? If you’re gonna be an asshole, might as well be the very assholiest asshole there ever was. And with Jaux, they might as well retire the title, and hang his jersey on the wall at the Asshole Hall of Fame.

Pre-debate prediction

First, though, allow me to present (via Stephen) a behind-the-scenes peek at Biden’s debate prep.


Not entirely sure if it’s real or parody; these days, it’s virtually impossible to tell.

Now for the prognosticatin’. Despite Pedaux Jaux’s inarguable, obvious infirmity, decrepitude, inability to walk, think, or speak intelligibly, the sad, sorry fact is that Trump has already lost; no matter what he says or does tonight, how brilliantly he may perform onstage, his opponent will be acclaimed throughout Enemedia as the clear winner.

Trump won’t be debating one person but three, all of whom loathe Orange Man Bad with a blazing passion. All Faux Jaux has to do to seal his
victory is show up, not fall down or wander offstage, and remain marginally calm and coherent for an hour and a half, and voila! Ladies and germs, we have ourselves a WINNAH!

If Trump so much as looks as if he’s about to land a knockout blow, his mic will be muted, every camera turned away from him and towards his drooling, cadaverous opponent. Whatever Trump IS permitted to say on-mic will be sliced, diced, and dissected immediately by the partisan moderators, who will eagerly explain to their audience of lowing cattle what that awful Nazi terroristic threat to “democracy” REALLY just said. Should Trump object or in any fashion attempt to defend himself, his mic will be shut off, the cameras trained again on the semi-sentient, doped-to-the-gills zombie grinning vacantly into them.

If deemed needful, the “moderators” will call in Biden’s SS detail to subdue the dangerous madman Trump by any and all means—up to and including nightsticks, saps, and an economy-sized blast of pepper spray full in the face. As the bleeding, unconscious Trump is carried off-camera to his Secure and Undisclosed prison cell to await indictment, trial, and conviction for the latest cobbled-up “crime,” Jake the Fake and Dana Gash will rush to the side of the unanimously-beloved ***“pResident”***, each impartial moderator hoisting one of Jaux’s withered, decomposing arms in celebratory salute of the near-effortless way Faux Jaux vanquished his abominable, habitually-violent, “democracy”-threatening foeman.

The “debate” after-party closes with the emergence of a chorus line of sag-bellied “transgender” Manwomen from the Stage Left(ist) wings to can-can at center stage, spectacularly bedecked in neon-dyed frightwigs, fishnet stockings, too-tight tye-died T-shirts above leather G-strings, exposed cock-n-ballbags prominently a-flounce and a-dangle for the delectation of all right-thinking debate attendees, their saucer-eyed, bewildered elementary-schoolers most particularly—the high-kicking, hairy-legged drag queens’ muddleheaded caricature of feminine pulchritude emphasized by metric tons of bizarre makeup.

Tomorrow morning, the “conservative” punditry will indignantly harrumph-harrumph over this intelligence-insulting traveshamockery, resulting in nothing of use. The day after, at most two, all will have been forgotten; the next Righteous Crusade will be taken up with alacrity, producing the selfsame results their show of Dudgeon Most High following the “debate” did—ie, none whatsoever.

The kiddy-diddler wins, the Donald loses, and that’s really all there is to it. The outcome was foreordained the moment Trump agreed to his subordinate role in the pre-rigged shitshow, reinforced by a surfeit of outrageous, unfair conditions under which it was to be conducted in the bargain.

Update! I must admit, I like the Bee’s predictions a heckuva lot better than mine.

The Babylon Bee’s 100% Accurate Predictions For Tonight’s Debate
Excitement for tonight’s presidential debate between Donald Trump and Joe Biden has already reached a fever pitch, and The Babylon Bee is here to cover it all — and tell you what will happen. Years of battle-hardened journalistic expertise and election coverage have yielded the following list of totally accurate predictions for tonight’s debate to give you a heads-up of things to watch for:

  1. Biden will go the full 90 minutes without blinking: Meaning he’ll be completely dialed in and not under the influence of any chemical substances whatsoever.
  2. Trump will make up 13 new nicknames for Biden throughout the evening: Biden will respond by reciting the 13 new indictments for Trump that his team has made up in the last week.
  3. Biden will utter the phrase “convicted felon” at least 384 times: It may not always be intelligible, but he’ll say it.
  4. FBI agents authorized to use deadly force will raid Trump’s podium midway through the debate: Somebody said that Trump has been storing classified documents next to a spare putter in the podium he’ll be using.
  5. Biden will respond to a question by asking Obama to please stand up and be recognized: He’ll be pointing to a random black man in the crowd, of course, but it’s the sentiment that counts.

Why yes, of course there’s more at the link. Why do you ask?

Updated update! It only just now occurred to me that, having mentioned the Manwoman supporting cast dancing the can-can in riotous celebration of Biden’s Big Win, the perfect opportunity for an apposite musical interlude presents itself.



Now for a good brain-bleach scouring with a steel-bristled brush, to erase the disturbing, gorge-raising mental image of a bunch of flabby, inadequately-attired Manwomen cavorting onstage from it.

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NOTE: In order to comment, you must be registered and approved as a CF user. Since so many user-registrations are attempted by spam-bots for their own nefarious purposes, YOUR REGISTRATION MAY BE ERRONEOUSLY DENIED.

If you are in fact a legit hooman bean desirous of registering yourself a CF user name so as to be able to comment only to find yourself caught up as collateral damage in one of my irregularly (un)scheduled sweeps for hinky registration attempts, please shoot me a kite at the email addy over in the right sidebar and let me know so’s I can get ya fixed up manually.

ALSO NOTE: You MUST use a valid, legit email address in order to successfully register, the new anti-spam software I installed last night requires it. My thanks to Barry for all his help sorting this mess out last night.

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

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

Should you find yourself sanctioned after running afoul of the CF comments policy as stated and feel you have been wronged, please download and complete the Butthurt Report form below in quadruplicate; retain one copy for your personal records and send the others to the email address posted in the right sidebar.

Please refrain from whining, sniveling, and/or bursting into tears and waving your chubby fists around in frustrated rage, lest you suffer an aneurysm or stroke unnecessarily. Your completed form will be reviewed and your complaint addressed whenever management feels like getting around to it. Thank you.

CF Glossary

ProPol: Professional Politician

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

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

Mordor On The Potomac: Washington, DC

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

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

pAntiFa: an alternative spelling of "fascist scum"

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

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

Claire's Cabal—The Freedom Forums

FREEDOM!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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