Category: Brilliant!

The fabulous Flatiron

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A Big Apple architectural icon is getting a makeover.

Flatiron Building, Famous New York Landmark, to Be Converted to Condos
The triangular 22-story building, which has been vacant since 2019, may be among the highest profile office-to-residential conversions

New York City’s historic Flatiron Building is officially preparing for its new life as a home to condos. 

Following an auction of the property earlier this year, The Brodsky Organization has most recently bought a stake in the landmarked building — which is owned by GFP Real Estate. The investment confirms that the building, which sits at the intersection of Fifth Avenue and Broadway, will be converted into condos.

Sources confirmed Brodsky’s stake, as well as the “likely” conversion, to The Messenger. The deal was first reported by The Real Deal.

The triangular 22-story landmark located at 175 Fifth Avenue has a typical floorplan of 10,600 square feet, with a total square footage of 255,000 square feet, according to materials by GFP. At the May auction, GFP Chairman Jeffrey Gural estimated that the building would cost $100 million to renovate, in addition to the $161 million he dropped on the winning bid. 

Sources involved in similar investment sales say that the conversion will be rather pricey. It’s estimated that the developer would have to charge about $1,600 per square foot to break even and closer to $3,000 a square foot to turn a profit. The triangular floor plan may also make for oddly shaped apartments.

After the gorgeous Chrysler building, I have to say the modestly mid-rise skyscraper once derided as Burnham’s Folly stands second on my personal most-beloved list. So much did I dig it, in fact, that on my frequent long afternoon strolls around Lower Manhattan I usually made sure to arrange the route so it would take me by the dear old Flatiron at least once. When I did, I always had to stop for a few minutes and just gaze up at the oddly-shaped old gal from across Fifth Ave, drinking in her unique grace and beauty from the ground floor entrance to the add-on penthouse floor at the tippy-top.

For reasons I don’t pretend to understand, though, I never did go in to check out the interior. Go figger. But just you have yourself a gander at this pic and then tell me she ain’t a bona fide masterpiece of the architect’s art.

Flatiron Building

Funny story about the Flatiron that isn’t all that well-known, related to me years ago by Chris Pfouts, who definitely knew a thing or two about a thing or two concerning the classic structures of two once-great American cities, New Orleans and NYC: it enjoys the singular distinction of being the only skyscraper anywhere that was actually, literally stolen.

See, during the era when the Flatiron was being built, the Mafia had a certain renown for stealing materials, tools, and various fixtures from any construction site their crews were hired to work on (which was all of ‘em) to be resold elsewhere. So brazen and out of control had this New York tradition become that, while the Flatiron site was being prepared, those Cosa Nostra crews started jacking every girder, beam, door, and tiedown bolt they got their hands on, just as soon as the stuff was delivered to the site for later assembly.

Some city official totted up the losses years later and determined that such a ridiculously large quantity of material had disappeared that, in effect, two (2) Flatiron buildings could have been built. Sadly, New York ended up with just the one.

I’m glad she’s coming back, if only as exorbitantly-priced condos. Even after having stood vacant for several years, tearing the Flatiron down to puke up yet another nondescript glass box in her place would be unthinkable. I’m thankful that the new owner has smarts and vision enough to realize that the old girl has life left in her still, and I hope he makes himself a swoon-inducing bundle from the undertaking. New York just wouldn’t be the same without her.

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Steve McQueen followup

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So since posting “American badass” yesterday, I have fallen DEEEEP down the rabbit hole of all things 70s dirt-bike. After another long, stimulating conversation with my friend Stan this evening on the subject, I’ve been Wiki-searching all the great old names: DeCoster, Jim Pomeroy, Malcom Smith, John Penton, Heikki Mikkola, et al. This serious sidetrackery led me to a couple of real finds.

AttackLifeMcQueen

Preach it, Steve! Next up: truer words were never, EVER spoken.

BikerForever

Heh. Anybody out there who grew up like me, Stan, and his brother Chipps did know exactly what it feels like. In our conversation earlier tonight, Stan brought up Chipps’s old Honda Mini Trail Z50—the bike Chipps taught me to ride on back when I was, oh, 11 or 12, which looked a little something like this:

72MiniTrail

As I recollect, the one Chipps had sported a slightly different paint/decal scheme on the tank, although it was certainly red as all getout. See the black plastic knobs down at the bottom of the bars, just above where the risers meet the top triple-clamp? Turning those counter-clockwise (lefty loosey!) would loosen each handlebar to fold down alongside the fork leg independently, making it easy-peasy to toss the little Z50 into the trunk of Dad’s car when a nice weekend camping trip up to the mountains was in order.

Can’t see very well in the pic, but the bars are supposed to have a bit of space between them. On Chipps’s Z50, however, they were bent so badly from innumerable falls, collisions, and other what-have-you that they actually touched in the middle, about halfway along the rise to the turnout where the grips, front brake lever, throttle, and kill switch (that red button thingie by the left grip) all live. It was funny to look at, kinda like a bunny with its ears all a-flop rather than sticking up straight.

Three-speed (or was it four?) auto-clutch tranny; chrome steel fenders front and rear; honkin’ big chrome heat shield over the upswept exhaust, which of course would be summarily removed and thrown into a remote corner of the garage for the duration, the oversize muffler drilled/hacksawed/gutted to replace the offensively meek, barely-audible “putt-putt-putt” sound with a more manly, throatier growl; cable-actuated drum brakes front and rear; cute little semi-knobby balloon-tires and mag wheels; in short, all the traditional styling, hardware, and running gear standard on the kid-size Hondas from that era.

That tiny little booger provided my first-ever experience with the indestructible nature of pretty much all Honda engines; like my beloved Ford 289s, they simply can’t be kilt, no matter how severely you abuse ‘em. Which of course we did. It’s long been my theory that you could’ve blown a few .50 caliber holes in that 49cc motor with a Ma Deuce and it still woulda cranked on the first kick and purred like a cat eating guts anyhow.

The seat had a latch on the side, allowing access to a small storage compartment underneath, among other things. On Chipps’s bike, the spring holding the latch closed was broken. This meant that whenever you jumped the thing, momentum would leave the seat flapping in the air—not such a big problem when you’re standing on the pegs and airborne, but a real nut-buster when you landed and went to sit back down again with the seat in the “open” position and stuffed into your crotch.

A more dire hazard than that top frame rail on our old Schwinn boys’ banana-bikes was, believe you me. Whoever wasn’t actually riding at the time and was off fooling around in the woods or catching tadpoles in the nearby crick always knew when the other guy had crested a hill and caught some air by the sudden profane shouts of pain at having been caught again by that $*&^$##@@#!!! loose seat.

Ahh, those were the days, my friend, we thought they’d never end.

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American badass

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That would be one Steve McQueen, as shown in this commercial for Honda’s all-time badass motocrosser, the almighty Elsinore CR250M.

Repops of that great orange and black Elsinore jersey McQueen sports in the vid can be had all day long for about 40-50 bucks, my lifelong friend and vintage-dirt-bike enthusiast Stan tells me. By contrast, Steve’s smoke-tinted helmet visor with the little rearview mirrors mounted on each side are rare as hens’ teeth, going for around 3-400 smacks when/if you’re fortunate enough to find one at all.

The video is a commercial McQueen made for Japanese TV, for which he got paid a cool million bucks. He actually ran the Elsinore Grand Prix (for which Honda’s first two-stroke MX bike was named) himself in 1970 under the hilarious nom de badass Harvey Mushman—no, really. Of that historic race, McQueen had this to say:

“When you’re runnin’ with the top ten, as I was, you’re really honkin’ on pretty good an’ what happpens is that with so many bikes choppin’ up the dirt the holes in the course get worse…deeper with each lap.

“I was comin’ out of a wash under a bridge with this road dip ahead and I just kinda took one of those big jumps where you’re sure you’re gonna make it but you don’t. And I didn’t. My bike nosed into the dip, which was, like, deep – and I went ass-over the bars into the crowd. Didn’t hurt anybody but me. My left foot was busted in six places.”

This wasn’t enough to stop him however, as he got back on the bike and finished the race, still finishing in the top ten!

What’d I tell ya? Badass!

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In a nutshell

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The tall but brilliant Diogenes Sarcastica sums the Mooselimb/Leftist alliance up.

The virulent anti-Israel protests across America and Europe throw a glaring light on the bizarre alliance, the odd combination of far left activist at universities and the anti-west, militant followers of muhammad that now threaten Jews in the street, and intimidates anyone brave enough to voice their dissent.

What makes the alliance so strange are the deep-seated differences between leftists and muslim fundamentalists over core beliefs. The left supports women’s rights and full equality. Militant muslims oppose them. The left supports gay rights and gay marriage. Militant muslims toss homos off buildings. The left supports abortion rights. Militant muslims oppose them. They need the children to hide behind. The left is indifferent to religious freedom, Militant muslims believe infidels should be executed. The left opposes the death penalty. Militant muslims endorse it and praise their governments for using it.

These beliefs are not marginal for either group. They are foundational, and they are profoundly opposed to each other.

But they deal with differences very simply – Hate.

That about covers it, yeah. And why not, really? A feral, perfervid hatred for all and any who dare to disagree with their rigid orthodoxy is the one thing they have in common. Our pal DS also has a truly excellent random-thoughts-type post up:

Late-night Musings From The Bathtub
I think the single most important thing a man can do to be an ally is give his lady friends permission to give persistent dudes at the bar his number so when they call he can angrily say that’s not funny because she died 15 years ago that very night.

Nervous of flying? Don’t be. As long as 2 million parts in a plane work perfectly while traveling at close to the speed of sound as sharp metal blades rotate at supersonic speeds in temperatures of -65 degrees 7 miles above the earth surface, you’ll be just fine. Enjoy the in flight movie…

Someone told me yesterday that they don’t eat tacos because they’re bad for you, and I’m starting to realize what my parents meant when they said I should be careful who I surround myself with.

Anyone who says their wedding was the best day of their lives has clearly never had 2 snickers bars fall down at once from a vending machine.

Heh. That’s some goooood squishy right there.

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“The most perfect comedy of all time”

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Blazing Saddles might like to have a word, perhaps, but me, I can’t argue with that assessment.

Here’s a peek into one recent discussion I had on our PJ Media Slack channel with my friend and boss Paula Bolyard, our editor-in-chief:

Chris Queen [9:15 AM]
Hey, I have an idea for a column.

paula [9:22 AM]
A column? What is it?

Chris Queen [9:24 AM]
It’s a collection of words that discusses a certain topic, but that’s not important right now.

Okay, so that didn’t actually happen, but the fact that you laughed at it — at least I hope you did — demonstrates the staying power of what I call the most perfect comedy of all time: 1980’s “Airplane!”

Earlier this month saw the release of a behind-the-scenes book telling the story of how “Airplane!” took flight. I don’t normally do book reviews, but I listened to the audiobook of “Surely You Can’t Be Serious: The True Story of Airplane!” and it was one of the funniest and most fascinating listening experiences I’ve ever had.

As wonderful as I imagine the print edition of the book being, nothing can compare to hearing Jim Abrahams, David Zucker, and Jerry Zucker telling the story of how they developed their love of comedy and filmmaking and how the two dovetailed together so perfectly with “Airplane!” Stories from cast and crew and studio executives, as well as appreciation from comedians and actors, make for a rich behind-the-scenes look at how a true film classic came together.

Could there possibly BE a more perfect opportunity to run a clip or three from the Zuckers’ magnum opus? I think NOT!

A bit heavy on the Rex Kramer, you may have noticed, only because Robert Stack’s Kramer would have to be my favorite character from the movie. I’ve seen Airplane! about a bazillion and one times over the years and can still hardly help but laugh every time he’s on screen, even if only for a few seconds. Back to the book review for our closer:

For years, I had heard some of the stories, such as how devout Christian Peter Graves was skittish about the creepiness of his character Capt. Oveur, but the directors talked him into going with it. “Surely You Can’t Be Serious” is loaded with fascinating and hilarious stories of how Abrahams and the Zuckers cast dramatic actors like Graves, Leslie Nielsen, Robert Stack, and Lloyd Bridges in these roles.

The directors’ advice to their stars to deliver lines as if their characters don’t realize they’re in a comedy is genius, and it’s a huge part of the appeal. The list of actors that studios or producers wanted to cast but who didn’t make it into the movie is fascinating. Barry Manilow? Dom DeLuise? Bruce Jenner? (Abrahams claims that Jenner offered to read for the roles of Ted Striker and Elaine Dickinson, but it’s hard to tell if he’s deadpan or serious in delivering that line.)

The influence of studio executives like Michael Eisner and Jeffrey Katzenberg and producers like Howard Koch helped the directors bring their comic vision to life on the big screen. It’s inspiring the way men like these went to bat for the team in order to bring “Airplane!” to life.

The way the Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker team was able to get around plagiarizing “Zero Hour!,” the movie that served as the inspiration for “Airplane!,” was genius, as was the latitude they gave actors Norman Alexander Gibbs and Al White to develop the “jive” dialogue and train Barbara Billingsley in how to “speak jive.”

Music played an important role in making “Airplane!” so great. Composer Elmer Bernstein was responsible for many iconic “serious” movie scores, and he understood what the Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker team was looking for. His score helps give “Airplane!” the drama and tension that makes it so effective as a comedy and as good storytelling.

More good schtuff yet to the article, of which any fan of Airplane! (and how on earth could anyone NOT be?) will want to read the all.

Update! And stop calling me Shirley.

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Turnabout: fair play

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Paleosimian dismayed to find shoe on other foot.


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A fool for Richard Russo

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That would be moi. I’ve been a huge Russo fan ever since I swiped a former Significant Other’s copy of Empire Falls and, after finishing it, proceeded to wolf down the rest of her library of Russo’s amazing work in one great gulp of binge-reading. This rave review of his latest release describes what’s in store for the Russo reader.

In an endnote, Russo says that he kept returning to North Bath because he liked the characters—and there is a lot to like. He kept hearing Sully’s voice in his head, and gradually, he acknowledges, that voice became Paul Newman’s, who so unforgettably portrayed Sully in the film of Nobody’s Fool. But another voice also stuck with him, that of the late actor Philip Seymour Hoffman, who turned a bit part in the film as the officious but hapless officer Douglas Raymer—whom Sully bests in a comic confrontation—into such a definitive portrayal that Russo made Raymer a major character in subsequent North Bath novels. In Somebody’s Fool, Raymer is now the retired chief of the former North Bath police department, called back into service to deal with a dead body and with corruption in the newly consolidated Schuyler Springs force—whose crooked cops have much do with Thomas’s near-death experience. While it’s not uncommon for authors to disdain or disown film adaptions of their work, Russo has said of the 1994 film, “You could examine it frame by frame and you’d learn just about everything you needed to know about adapting a book for film.” It’s not an exaggeration to say that the film helped bring Russo back to North Bath.

Even as Russo publishes Somebody’s Fool, another of his works has made it to the screen—in this case television—in an AMC miniseries adaption of Straight Man. This 1997 novel is Russo’s “university book,” but unlike those that Vidal disdained, Straight Man is a wickedly funny, harshly critical depiction of life in an English Department where ideology shapes professors’ research and writing, academics use petty politics to advance their careers, and the decline of the humanities has created a constant fear of budget cuts. Though the novel itself is 25 years old, it so accurately depicted where the humanities were headed that it doesn’t take much massaging to turn it into 2023 series with the ironic title of Lucky Hank—a reference to the bored, cranky English Department chair, William Henry Devereaux, Jr., who endlessly torments his deserving colleagues. Though quite different from Nobody’s Fool, Lucky Hank has garnered similar acclaim—in part because both sources benefit from Russo’s gift for creating comic characters with serious significance.

Russo supported himself in college by working the kinds of hard jobs at which many of his characters toil. There, he watched his father and his father’s friends use humor to get themselves through jobs, after which he’d join them at some local bar to help laugh away the day’s aches. It’s that kind of storytelling, in Russo’s hands, that makes his blue-collar novels so engaging and palatable, because oftentimes the circumstances of his characters are difficult at best, near-awful at worst. American fiction is better because Russo stuck with characters who he thought he was escaping when he went off to school. The arc of his career reminds me of the words of the narrator of Philip Roth’s Zuckerman Unbound, writing about himself in the third person, when he observes that all he wanted as a young student was to leave behind “all the shallow provincials” of his hometown “for the deep emancipating world of Art. As it turned out, he had taken them all with him.”

Russo has done the same, in the process taking many of his lucky readers along for the ride, too.

It’s a ride I very much look forward to taking, and highly recommend to everybody else out there too.

(Via John Tierney)

Update! Just for shits and giggles I had a look in on the IMDb page for the Empire Falls miniseries, which I remember greatly enjoying back in the days when I still watched TV now and then. Somehow, I’d forgotten that it was Paul Newman’s last acting performance. It’s one of the vanishingly rare exceptions to the rule that any film or TV project featuring a long list of A-list actors is guaranteed to suck big green donkey dick.

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Jesus CHRIST, but this chick can RIDE!

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Ahh, but let’s not forget the number of times she had to have busted her ass whilst learning how to do all this.


Amazing. The union between (wo)man and machine on display here is damned near total, and quite impressive. Take especial note of the scrupulously careful, almost gingerly way she places her feet on the rear pegs as she keeps the front wheel in the air throughout. Hats off to ya, ma’am.

Update! After re-watching it for about the tenth time, I realized there’s another party involved that deserves some kudos: whoever was behind the camera recording it. Always in focus and perfectly framed; steady-handed zoom-ins and -outs; never any shaking, wobbling, or losing track of the subject. This is some incredible stunt-riding and some top-notch lensmanship both, I’d say, a real two-fer.

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Handing a Leftwit “journalist” his head

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I wish he’d head South and run for President. Yes, I know, I know, he wasn’t born in the US and is thus Constitutionally ineligible. On the other hand, that sure didn’t stop Kenya-born Bathhouse Barry, now did it?


Calm, unflappable, laconically munching an apple while he takes this Mark-1 Mod-0 shitlib apart on camera—it’s entirely possible M Poilievre is actually Superman. As the esteemed Andrea Widberg says:

I’m one of those people who hates watching embarrassing things on TV or in movies. If I know the scene will be embarrassing, I take off my glasses and plug my ears. I almost had that urge to do both when watching Poilievre destroy the reporter. What Poilievre did to him was that brutal. Then I thought, “No, this reporter is a leftist hack. I’m not watching something painfully embarrassing. I’m watching something absolutely beautiful.”

Amen to that. Personally, I’d be every bit as happy if he’d just hurled his apple at the “journalist”’s nose à la Sam Gamgee (“waste of a good apple,” quoth Samwise afterwards), picked up a stout tree branch, and beat the dirtbag half to death with it upon said dirtbag’s first insufferably smarmy, smug insinuation disguised as a “question,” but that’s probably just me.

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When the shoe’s finally on the other foot…

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Enjoy it to the very fullest.

Cancel Culture Finally Comes for the Left, and I Can’t Stop Laughing
As I wrote previously, all the geopolitical arguments in the world, right or wrong, do not excuse mass murder, including the massacring of children. When Hamas crossed the border and started indiscriminately killing people and taking hostages, there was no question that the gloves would have to come off. Complaints about settlements and the Al-Aqsa mosque became academic at that point.

Still, in the immediate aftermath of the attacks, some people actually came out in open support of Hamas’ atrocities, justifying them and blaming Israel for the murder of its own people. Joint letters were put out by universities and protests were held with chants glorifying Hamas “martyrs.”

Naturally, some companies decided that was a bridge too far and rescinded job offers to those who participated, and now the crying has begun.

Wait, am I supposed to feel sorry for a person who literally cheerleaded mass murder and claimed it was simply “resistance?” Is that really what the Post is suggesting with this hand-wringing article full of defenses of people espousing nazi ideology? Last I checked, the left loves cancel culture, and no single entity of the left loves it more than the university system.

Regardless, my response to this is simple: I can’t stop laughing.

This is what the left wanted. They wanted a world where people get publicly and professionally punished for the things they say. Further, they wanted the standard to be so low that people could get fired for simply speaking basic truths, such as that men can’t become women. But now, the very same left wants to pull back that standard to include supporting terrorists who shoot up music festivals.

Yeah, no. That’s not how this works.

Nor should it be. Yet it was, for way too many years. If the Woke worm is beginning to turn at long last, then hey, laugh, laugh away, I say. Shame it took a bestial mass-slaughter to make it happen, but…well, that’s the way it usually happens, historically-speaking.

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D-D-Doubling down

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Wherein Robert Spencer comes up with the most clever party-affiliation identifier for Alex Sandy From the Bronx Westchester yet conceived of.

Everything You Need to Know About the Israeli Occupation (That Is, Everything the Left Won’t Tell You)
There would be peace in the Middle East if Israel just ended its occupation, right?

That’s what the Squad wants you to think, anyway. The statements of the three primary members of this winsome leftist House coalition on the Hamas massacres in Israel had the distinct odor of canned talking points. Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-Make Mine A Double) issued a statement that said, “I condemn Hamas’ attack in the strongest possible terms.” That was a good start, but she then turned on a dime to blame it all on Israel: “No child and family should ever endure this kind of violence and fear, and this violence will not solve the ongoing oppression and occupation in the region.” Ongoing oppression and occupation, see? If Israel would just ease up on the poor Palestinians, Hamas jihadis would all open restaurants and shops, and peace would dawn upon the region.

BWAAAAHAHAHAHAHA! I see what you did there, Robert; “Double” as in bartender terminology, or as in “bodacious Double-D hoo-ha’s”? Well done, buddy, well done indeed. Anyways. Onwards, to more serious matters.

So all three are in agreement: Israel’s occupation is the problem. It’s a shame that we don’t have any real journalists today, because someone should ask the same question to all three of them: “If Israel is occupying Palestinian land, can you please explain the basis in international law for Palestinian ownership of this land?” They all likely assume that there was a previous Palestinian state that the Israelis occupied and destroyed, but in reality, there has never been a Palestinian state of any kind, ever, at any point in history. There has been a region known as “Palestine” since 134AD, when the Romans applied that name to the land that had previously been known as Judea, that is, land of the Jews. But “Palestine” was akin to “Staten Island” — it was only the name of a region, never of a people or a nation.

By the beginning of the twentieth century, the Ottoman Empire had sovereignty over the territory that is now Israel and the supposedly occupied land as well. The Ottoman Empire was, however, known by this time as “The Sick Man of Europe.” In the early 1920s, just before the empire fell altogether, it conceded control of Palestine and the land that came to be known as Transjordan and now as Jordan to the League of Nations. On July 24, 1922, the League granted administrative control over these territories to Britain with specific instructions to create a “national home for the Jewish people.”

Britain immediately turned over 77% of the Mandate to the Arabs to create Jordan but remained generally committed to establishing a Jewish national home in the remainder. This was known as the Mandate for Palestine. Sometimes Leftists point to it as the Palestinian state that supposedly predated Israel, but this claim relies on the ignorance of the fact that this British territory had been explicitly set aside for Jewish settlement; nine years before the founding of the modern state of Israel, a 1939 flag of “Palestine” sports a star of David.

When the State of Israel was founded in 1948, it immediately had to fight a war for its survival against the surrounding Arab nations that had vowed to destroy it. Then there was finally an occupation — in fact, two: Egypt occupied Gaza and Jordan occupied Judea and Samaria (which it renamed the West Bank). Israel won back those territories in the Six-Day War of 1967, but that was actually ending an occupation, not starting one: the only international law governing sovereignty over those territories stipulated that they were to be part of a national home for the Jewish people.

So from whom was the land stolen? Not from the Ottomans, who had ceded it to the League of Nations. Not from the league, which had granted administrative powers over it to the British. Not from the British, who only had it in order to help create a Jewish state there. And not from the Palestinians, who didn’t even exist until the 1960s, when the KGB and Yasir Arafat bestowed Palestinian nationality upon a group of Levantine Arabs as a rhetorical weapon to use against Israel.

And there you have it: the whole ball of wax, wrapped up so neatly and concisely even a shitlib Sooperdoopergenius© should be able to comprehend it. Please do note I said should, not will.

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Ask a hard one next time

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A question from Gatito Bueno:

i am just a kitten, so please forgive me i(f) this is an obvious question to which most people know the answer and i do not but:

is this some sort of really dry sarcasm or just an astonishing lack of self-awareness?

NYTQ A

Heh. Oh, I think we all know the answer to your question right enough, Gatito. In fact, right offhand I can think of a few others to go along with it.

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The Rockwell that never was

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Via Ken Lane, AI is some doing some pretty amazing things.

Viral Norman Rockwell AI art reveals debauchery in America like you’ve never seen before
There’s an incredible new viral sensation sweeping the internet, and it’s both powerful and thought-provoking, offering a compelling snapshot of Biden’s America in disarray. So, what’s this intriguing online phenomenon?

Norman Rockwell paints modern America.

It’s a disturbing yet profoundly provocative modern AI tribute to Norman Rockwell, reimagining today’s disgraceful USA in Rockwell’s iconic style. Whoever conceived this idea is truly ingenious. These images are striking because they place the everyday propaganda we’re exposed to within the context of normal life, revealing the extent of how far we’ve fallen.

Let’s take a closer look at some of these powerful images.

Follows, some quite remarkable stuff, my personal favorite of which is the one depicting the deplorable state of shitlib-run cities:

RockwellsModernAmerica

Yep, AI Rockwell nailed that one clean and tight, I must say. Well, except for one niggling detail: during all the time I’ve spent in various big cities from sea to caustic sea, I can’t remember ever once seeing a nicely-dressed, smiling family of Whypeepuh strolling casually along the grimy, shit-strewn sidewalks, all carefree and unmolested by the stewbums, layabouts, criminals, and dope fiends surrounding them. Running for their very lives, more like.

Update! Aesop meme-a-lizes the above image plus two of the others, and it’s meme-a-licious.

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Emma Cadena, Reema Doleh

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That’s just two of the jihad-supporting Harvard students outed by the Doxxing Truck.

Meet the key figures propelling antisemitism at Harvard
Thirty-four student groups at Harvard University signed a letter earlier this week in response to the attack on Israel by Hamas that left 1,200 dead and at least 2,700 wounded. That letter blamed Israel for the attacks.

“We, the undersigned student organizations, hold the Israeli regime entirely responsible for all unfolding violence. The apartheid regime is the only one to blame,” the letter reads. “Israeli violence has structured every aspect of Palestinian existence for 75 years.”

The letter initially contained the names of the groups who signed the letter, but after widespread backlash, it was amended to say, “This statement was co-authored by a coalition of Palestine solidarity groups at Harvard. For student safety, the names of all original signing organizations have been concealed at this time.”

By the time it was amended, the list had already been spread far and wide. Just five of the student groups have withdrawn their signatures: Harvard College Act on a Dream, Amnesty International at Harvard, the Harvard Islamic Society, Harvard Undergraduate Ghungroo, and the Harvard Undergraduate Nepali Student Association.

The remaining groups and members of their leadership stand by the letter and its inflammatory claims. The names Accuracy in Media has been able to independently confirm are listed below.

You can be sure that every non-Arab shitlib on the list fully supports doxxing, harrassing, and harrying every Real American whose name, home and/or business address, and phone number they or their fellow shitlibs can get ahold of. The rest, of course, are just Mooselimb supremacist-fellating swine who should never have been allowed in this country to begin with, so fuck ‘em. The list as it currently stands:

African American Resistance Organization
Kiersten B. Hash, Founder

Amari M. Butler, Founder

Prince A. Williams, Founder

Clyve Lawrence, Founder

Kojo Acheampong, Founder

Harvard Muslim Law School Association
Hussain Awan, Co-President

Reema Doleh, Co-President

Ariq Hatibie, Executive Board Member

Saeed Ahmad, Executive Board Member

Hurya Ahmed, Vice President of Communications

Harvard Undergraduate Palestine Solidarity Committee
Shraddha Joshi, organizer

Josh Willcox, organizer

Sanaa Kahloon, member

And there you have it. Email the names to all your friends and family; call their bosses and pointedly inquire as to their thoughts about how they can justify keeping these Friends of Fiends gainfully employed; boycott any law firms you know of in your area who hire Harvard Law grads; you know the drill. Time and long past time we started flinging their own shit back in some Leftard faces. Or, as Ace so pithily puts it: it’s not cancel culture, it’s consequences culture. Indeed. Well done to the folks at AIM.

Update! Via Insty:

NotOurBiggestProblem

Heh. Indeed.

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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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