Another day, another shitlib hissy fit

The definitive, real-world example of “much ado about nothing.”

Pete Hegseth Comes Under Fire for Meeting the Standards He Demands of Others. Yes, You Read That Right
The left is engaged in an all-out attack on the policies of the Trump presidency. However, most of those attacks are not aimed at policies, per se; they are aimed at specific people and agencies. For instance, the nation remains in favor of getting rid of illegals, but, thanks to lies perpetrated by the left and their stenographers in the media, they are becoming dissatisfied with how Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents are operating. Krisit Noem and Robert F. Kennedy, Jr., are the targets of personal attacks. JD Vance has had his faith, his wife, and his marriage attacked. In fact, it seems that the more successful an administration official is, the more unhinged and deranged the attacks. Few members of President Trump’s cabinet have had a greater impact, and undergone more scurrilous attacks, than Secretary of War Pete Hegseth.

Hegseth’s changes began early with his famous “all hands” meeting that required attendance by all serving Flag or General Officers. Part of that speech was a call to physical fitness. Under the previous administration, the standards were corrupted to ensure that every variant of sexual perversion would be able to pass even the most demanding schools in the military.

One of Hegseth’s trademarks is physical fitness. Not only is he in great shape himself, but when he visits units, he makes a point of participating in physical fitness training sessions with the troops.

Friday, Hegseth was at Fort Campbell, Kentucky. While there, he reconnected with the unit he served with in Afghanistan. While an officer in the Minnesota Army National Guard, he served as an infantry platoon leader in 3rd Battalion, 187th Infantry Regiment, aka The Rakkasans, the Japanese words for “falling umbrellas” or parachutes. There, he earned a reputation as a tough, capable, and canny combat leader.

Predictably, Hegseth did PT with the Rakkasans and, just as predictably, he was excoriated for it. Most of the abuse was on social media by people who’d never done anything more strenuous than getting off the sofa; for instance, Pentagon Pete Hegseth Hits Up Old Platoon With U.S. on Brink of War With Iran. The insinuation that the Secretary of War should be bunkered down is ludicrous. Any operation planned in Iran is under the purview of U.S. Central Command. If the Secretary of War is tied up in operational planning, he needs to fire some people. Moreover, you can’t allow the movements of a single individual to serve as a warning to our enemies when operations are imminent.

What particularly got their goat was Hegseth bench-pressing. What really got them was his pressing 315 pounds.

And that’s when the hysterical shrieking began. Many libtards contended, contra the evidence of their own lying eyes, that Hegseth had faked the whole thing. One went so far as to count the weights on each side of the bar, the sum total of which added up to a paltry (!) 270 pounds, not the claimed 315. Left out of this supergenius’s calculations was the inconvenient fact that the bar itself weighed in at 45 pounds, and that weight must be added in also—it “raises the bar,” so to speak. The execrable Daily Beast haughtily pooh-poohed the SecWars’s bench press as just another “publicity stunt.” And on and on it went.

Bottom line takeaway? Whenever shitlibs are unhappy, America is winning.

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By George, I think she’s got it!

The reliably-superb Titiana McGrath (that’s how she used to spell it way back when, it seems to have changed recently) lays some of her unique insight and wisdom on us dumbass plebes.

Communism is the only guarantee of human happiness. It has always worked wherever it has been tried. One need only consider the progressive reforms of Joseph Stalin in Russia in the mid-20th century. Those who refused to sign up to Stalin’s ideas tended to die young, which just proves that Communism saves lives.

Now that we’ve reached 2026, surely it’s time to try this system again. Our new era has already begun, with Zohran Mamdani taking over as Mayor of New York. For those who don’t know, Mamdani is a devout Muslim who has promised to make New York a “sanctuary city” for the LGBT+ community. It’s what the Prophet Mohammed would have wanted.

If it’s a choice between being warm or frigid, I know which I’d prefer

Some bigots have argued that homosexuality is incompatible with the Islamic faith. But in fact, homophobia is extremely rare in Muslim-majority countries. This is why there isn’t a single LGBT+ community centre in the whole of Afghanistan. Everyone is so tolerant that there is simply no need for them.

Communism is the philosophy of the masses. Whilst careerist right-wing politicians have wasted years studying for degrees in PPE at Oxford, all of the greatest left-wing leaders of history have been out there working in the real world. Nicolás Maduro was a bus driver. Nicolae Ceaușescu was a shoemaker’s apprentice. Mao Zedong was an assistant librarian. Zohran Mamdani was a rapper whose lyrics promoted intersectional social justice activism.

Who among us could possibly quibble with analysis as penetrating, as incandescently brilliant, as this?

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Braggadocious

Sorry, but this isn’t nearly as impressive a qualification as she seems to think it is.

Democrat Oregon Governor Tina Kotek took to social media during Lesbian Visibility Week to tout her status as one of only two openly lesbian governors in U.S. history. In her message, Kotek praised Oregon’s “diversity” and identity politics-driven leadership, but it’s clear that her focus on identity over real issues highlights a growing trend in left-wing governance. While President Trump focused on policies that strengthen America, Kotek’s liberal agenda continues to prioritize divisive identity politics, leaving behind real solutions for her state.

Of course, and as usual. But hey, the important thing to remember here is that she’s a lesbian, amIright?

Too much FUN

Schlichter has it.

It Is Right and Proper to Laugh at the Suffering of Journalists
If it’s wrong to spend a week celebrating the misery of your opponents, like that of the scores of just-fired Washington Post hacks who are crying like teenage girls learning there are no more “Twilight” movies coming, then I’m incredibly, totally, enthusiastically wrong. The former journos/current drive-thru operators still have not shut up about the WaPo’s mass layoffs, and I am taking unmitigated delight in their pain. Their suffering energizes me. Their tears nourish me. Their humiliation fuels my joy. Hey, maybe democracy dies in darkness, but as long as the WaPo dies, I’m good.

I would tell them to learn (to) code, but that’s old and cliché. Instead, I’ve been on X, inviting them to earn a little money for their kombucha and rent by buffing out my sweet luxury ride, which I paid for with my writing jobs. I’m a professional writer, and they’re not.

But hey, I’m sure that journalism degree from the University of College is going to get them another gig soon. Say it with me – “Would you like to supersize that, sir?”

They haven’t taken their involuntary career tangent particularly well. They are all over X moaning about it and about us being giddy about it. Some people have told me that, because of my hysterical laughter at their situation, I’m going to be the victim of karma, but I think I’m actually karma’s enforcer. After all, these are the people who have done nothing but lie to us and about us for decades. From Russian collusion to Hunter’s laptop to J6 pogrom cheerleading to every other fraud and scam, they’ve obediently held to the Democrat line and done everything they could to screw with us patriots. Now that they’re being laid off en masse, we owe it to ourselves to take a moment and laugh at their pain.

Look, how about if I agree to care about them as much as they’ve cared about me for the last few decades? Agreed? Great. Now, back to reveling in their agony.

And bang, zoom! Back to it he doth go, to wit:

Personally, I love their incessant whining that Jeff Bezos somehow owes them sinecures. Why, he’s got so much money he could easily continue paying for them to provide zero value! It’s his moral duty! One even referred to his “stewardship” of the Washington Post in a typically overwrought X post. Stewardship? He’s a steward? What, like some sort of ink-stained Denethor? Well, they’ve got the funeral pyre part down.

No, the word they’re looking for and not finding is “owner.” Jeff Bezos owns the Washington Post. He can do what he wants with it. If he wants to turn it into a newsprint version of Maxim – is Maxim still a thing? – he can do it, although judging from the avatars of the canned reporters, they would need to seek out some outside talent. Most of the former writers look exactly like you think they would, SSRI-gobbling neuroticas and push-upaphobic soyboyz who, if they weren’t scribbling for a dying tabloid, would probably be out yelling obscenities at the heroic middle-class men of ICE who protect them from the savages.

What was Jeff Bezos getting for his money? Did you know that they had 13 people on the climate change beat? They were paying over a dozen people to write about a giant hoax. I think I’m going to go approach Storm Paglia at Townhall to see if I can get a personal research assistant to put on the Unicorn beat. Just kidding. We have to earn our views because we don’t have a zillionaire daddy subsidizing us.

Some people on the Right were kinder than I about the layoffs, cautioning that we shouldn’t take pleasure in our enemies’ suffering. This is so very wrong. I’ve never been a fan of the idea of conservatism without the concept of retribution. Too often, we are told that to be good people, we must forgo just consequences. But failing to pay back our enemies is only going to get us more reason to need vengeance. Our enemies aren’t going to take our weakness for anything but weakness. Time to give pain a chance. Time to laugh our tails off at the suffering of the fired Democrat transcriptionists of the Washington Post.

“Conservatism without retribution”—an excellent formulation, expressing an idea that I have no more patience with or use for than does COL Schlichter. “Right and proper”? You bet your sweet bippy.

Unfair, unreasonable, unkind

Blacks have to show photo ID to:

Buy themselves a quart of OE down at de sto’

Board a plane, train, or in some places a bus

Attend a rap show or NBA game

Rent a room down at the local hot-sheet flop

Among many, many other situations wherein a valid ID is required. So how is it, then, that shitlibs are flopping around on the damn floor like landed carp over the unthinkable(!) prospect of needing to show proper ID to vote? Gutfeld, bless him, ain’t having any.

Gutfeld Destroys the Democrats’ Voter ID Double Standard, and It’s Glorious
Greg Gutfeld did what Greg Gutfeld does best on his late-night show this week: he grabbed a Democrat talking point, shook it until the hypocrisy fell out, and then held it up for everyone to see. The target was Democrats’ favorite attack line against voter ID laws, and specifically the SAVE Act, which they have hysterically branded as “Jim Crow 2.0.”

Gutfeld opened by zeroing in on the left’s most glaring contradiction. “You got to hand it to the Democrats,” he said. “On one hand, they think a child can handle the decision to lop off their genitals, but then on the other, they think black people can’t get a photo ID.”

To make his point, Gutfeld played a clip of Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer having a meltdown over the legislation. “The SAVE Act is an abomination,” Schumer declared. “It’s Jim Crow 2.0 across the country.” Schumer went on to vow, “We are going to do everything we can to stop it.”

From there, Gutfeld dismantled the comparison itself. “To them, showing an ID to vote is no different than forcing people to drink from separate water fountains,” he said. The absurdity becomes obvious when placed next to everyday life. “Meanwhile, you need an ID to buy Sudafed, rent a U-Haul, and date Bill Belichick.”

The contradiction gets worse when Democrats lecture Americans about trusting elections. “The same people who tell you borders are fake, gender is a choice, and crime is a social construct,” Gutfeld said, “suddenly insist elections should be taken on faith.”

He closed by boiling the issue down to its core. “The SAVE Act isn’t about stopping people from voting,” Gutfeld said. “It’s about stopping people from cheating.”

Hey now, Greg, they resemble those remarks.

No, daddy, NO!

Not the genital cuffs AGAIN!

Cynical Publius
@CynicalPublius

RE: Vance Getting Booed at the Winter Olympics

So a bunch of Eurotards from Europe’s fashion capital booed our Vice President and Second Lady at the Winter Olympics opening ceremony.

Democrats, of course, are thrilled by this because they too hate America. I, of course, could not care less.

But let me tell you what is really going on.

The USA is Europe’s Daddy, and has been for 80 years. Europe is the stumblebum adult male child in his 30s living on Daddy’s couch. He can’t hold a job, all of his relationships are disasters and he depends on Daddy for all sustenance and protection.

One day Daddy gets fed up with Sonny’s unwillingness to pay his own way. Daddy is also pissed because Sonny does not support free speech or free markets, and because Sonny fails to protect himself from Muslims who beat him up in the street daily. Daddy finally says:

“ENOUGH! You are on your own. Get out of my house. No, I will NOT lend you more money.”

So Sonny has to finally stand on his own two feet and he resents it. So the next time Sonny sees Daddy, he boos him.

That’s what happened in Milan.

It’s always about envy, resentment, and feelings of inadequacy with these delinquent brats.

Just another shitlib success story

Nice to see things working out as intended…even if they won’t admit it.

Vermont EV buses prove unreliable for transportation this winter
(The Center Square) – Electric buses are proving unreliable this winter for Vermont’s Green Mountain Transit, as it needs to be over 41 degrees for the buses to charge, but due to a battery recall the buses are a fire hazard and can’t be charged in a garage.

Spokesman for energy workers advocacy group Power the Future Larry Behrens told the Center Square: “Taxpayers were sold an $8 million ‘solution’ that can’t operate in cold weather when the home for these buses is in New England.”

“We’re beyond the point where this looks like incompetence and starts to smell like fraud,” Behrens said.

Now, now, I’m not entirely sure I’d be willing to go as far as all that. Not when stupidity, wishful thinking, and daylight barking madness will more than meet the case.

24k JUSTICE

Served up piping hot, as fresh as tomorrow morning’s headlines.


Oh HELLS muthafuckin’ yeah! Thanks to Irish, who says it’s “perfect,” and he ain’t lying ’bout that, people. Backstory here.

Disappointment

I dunno, man, it’s always great to see a passel of Lefty screechweasels getting the snot pounded out of ‘em, but I was expecting we’d at least see some teeth, hair, and blood left on that icy sidewalk, if not bone fragments, eyeballs, ears, and/or severed limbs. Do better next time, fellas.


Butt-ugly Leftybitch can’t stand the heat, needs to get the hell out of the kitchen

Welcome to the jungle, twatwaffle.

Zohran Mamdani’s woke, privileged tenant advocate Cea Weaver breaks down crying when asked about hypocritical gentrification comments
Mayor Zohran Mamdani’s newly instated radical-left tenant advocate, Cea Weaver, broke down Wednesday as she dodged questions from reporters about her gentrification hypocrisy.

The 37-year-old, who has faced backlash for blasting homeownership as a “weapon of white supremacy” in the past, teared up when she emerged briefly from her apartment building in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, at about 9 a.m.

Weaver, who was tapped by Mamdani to be his new director of the city Office to Protect Tenants, quickly ran back inside after she was asked about the $1.6 million home her mother owns in Nashville, Tennessee.

I read someplace that not only did this big-talking gutless wonder break down crying upon being asked the first pointed question she’d ever faced in her entire life, she also ran screaming down the street before regaining control of herself and sneaking back into her own crib.

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Yet she persists

Directly, hilariously related to tonight’s Eyrie topic, your feel-good video of the week month year century.


Almost perfect, except ol’ Two-Ton Tallulah there seems to have survived her foolhardy brush with the Law, regrettably. Better luck next time, officers.

Update! A cpl good un’s via the Ace Place.



Do your worst, bitches. Since it appears you may have forgotten already, I’d like to remind you again of who it is that has all the guns in this badly-broken nation.


Send in the clowns

Don’t bother, they’re here.

New York magazine writer stumps Zohran Mamdani, top aides with ‘cost of living’ question
A magazine reporter stumped Mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani and his closest advisers with a question about lowering the cost of living in the Big Apple.

Mamdani and his crew didn’t have an answer when a New York Magazine writer asked for a comparable city as the democratic socialist waxed poetic about his lofty “principle” of bringing down the cost of living in the five boroughs.

“I asked him and some of his advisers if there were cities that had pulled this off that New York could emulate, places that had managed to meaningfully lower the cost of living. None sprang to mind,” the article stated.

“Talk to policy experts, and they find the prospect laughable; the only cities where this has happened are ones where the quality of life dropped so dramatically that no one wanted to live there anymore.”

Point being…? What with the recent mass exodus of the last pitiful handful of sensible, intelligent souls from the ruins, NYC is already sprinting just as hard and fast as it can for the very bottom of that particular fly-blown dungheap. And with commie nitwit Zsa Zsa “A job? ME?!?” Mammyjammy at the wheel, you gotta like their chances. Taking the checkered flag in this particular race is nothing to get excited about, certainly. Even so, purblind City dwellers had better make the most of it and enjoy the Booby Prize while they can—this will be the last victory New Yorkers will have for a long, long time. Après MammyJammy, le déluge.

Clearly, the above-mentioned New Yorker hack didn’t get the memo: you never, but NEVER, ask a Socialist a question about economic policy. They know about as much on that subject as famous retard Tampon Timmeh! Walz does about string theory, therefore are sure to make a dog’s breakfast of the whole enterprise.

Sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, gang, but after all the years, all the tears, and all the predictions of imminent doom which turned out to be a trifle premature, New York is truly over and done with. You only get so many spins of the cylinder before a loaded chamber comes up, so many goes at taunting the tiger before the tiger chews you to pieces and spits you out. About three weeks worth of MammyJammy (mis)rule ought to put the final nail in NYC’s coffin. Resilient as the City has proven itself to be time and again, selecting as Mayor a dull-witted, silver-spoonfed Muzzrat Richie Rich who has never worked a day in his useless life is a self-inflicted wound from which Noo Yawk Fuckin’ City will not recover.

Trump must continue to hammer the point home like a broken record: there will be NO bailout, NO federal relief programs, NO FederalGovCo knight in shining armor riding up on his snow-white charger to pull NYC’s chestnuts out of the fire in the very nick of time. New Yorkers, having voted for the assclown MammyJammy overwhelmingly—a landslide romp which, in effect, bestows one of the strongest mandates ever on an egomaniacal muttonhead who is singularly illl-equipped to wield it judiciously—now have no one but themselves to blame for what they’ll soon be getting. Let them get it then, Mencken-style (ie, good and hard), until they’re so completely downcast that the humiliation of this latest and greatest folly in a long and distinguished line of foolish, impenitent acts of municipal auto-annihilation shall be seared into their collective memory forever.

May New Yorkers rue the day they made such an suicidally-unwise choice. May the impending catastrophe scar them so indelibly they will be driven to reconsider…well, damned near everythiing, actually. May the enduring pain of this experience burn away, like a chill morning fog, their abiding arrogance; their deep-seated superiority complex; their ahistorical ignorance; and their counterfactual assumptions. May the sight of their once-majestic City burning all around them—collapsing into violence, lawlessness, and anarchy thanks to their own infantile prejudices and delusions—inspire them at long last to embrace humility, contrition, and thoughtfulness.

And if that doesn’t work out, just build a 40-foot high, razor-wire-topped, concrete wall around Manhattan, post armed guards along the perimeter, shut off the electricity, rename it Manhattan Island Federal Penitentiary. Then, should PoTUS’s chopper go down inside the Wall, send Snake Plissken in to bring the blaggard back out again.

Righteous rip

Is there anything in all the world as clever, creative, and devilishly ingenious as an old-school biker? I think NOT!

Heh. Saw something along similar lines years ago at the Myrtle Beach Spring R&ally, on a Big Twin parked up in a metered space across the street from the Pavilion. Difference being, on this one the trailer-hitch ball was mounted atop the back fender of a gorgeous Panhead bobjob, right behind the solo seat where the bitch-pad would usually be. Around the hitch-ball, in traditional tattoo-script lettering, were the words, “Ride THIS, bitch!” Too, too funny, I thought.

Brings to mind the time some drunk hooer followed me out to the bar parkig lot hoping to cadge a ride with me on my bare-knuckle 71 FLH. After a lot of the usual sniveling horseshit, the bint wanted to know where the sissy-bar was, as if I’d somehow contrivde to hide the stupid thing. Now, I‘d never had a fucking sissy-bar on my old Shovel and never would if I had anything to say about it. I always built my bikes to be lean, clean, mean, and fast. No frills, no flash, no BS.

And no passenger seat or sissy-bar, neither. You wanna ride bitch behind me, babe, then go snag a cpl-three hand towels from the bartender, fold em up nice and tight, and tuck ‘em under your ass for a cushion. Alternatively, you could just ride the damn fender, latch onto something solid and secure, and hang on for dear life. Either way works for me, I already KNOW where I’ll be sitting.

So naturally, I turned to face the woozy, boozy broad and rasped, “Sorry, this bike ain’t for sissies.”

As the T-shirts used to have it: chrome don’t get ya home, loud pipes save lives, there’s no replacement for cubic-inch displacement, and horsepower is its own reward. Twist on the loud handle until that ornery old Milwaukee Mule cackles like a fat bitch, in Goose’s unforgettable words. Another thing he used to say after a bunch of us had been out TT (Tavern-to-Tavern, that is) racing and were ready to head on back to the shop: “These other mopes think they ride hard, but when me and you put a bike back in the barn after a good putt she’s breathing heavy,  drenched with sweat., and her tongue is hanging out two or three feet.” Coming from Goose, I knew that was praise indeed.

Sarah Hucklebee Sanders to anti-Christian dickweeds: GET BENT

The TRUE meaning of Christmas is telling officious, whiny shitlibs to crawl up an armadillo’s ass and die.

Arkansas Governor Sarah Huckabee Sanders was feeling the Christmas spirit this week as she gave state employees a generous gift. She announced she would be closing state offices on Friday, December 26th, extending a nice four-day weekend to the state’s employees to spend with their families and celebrate the birth of Jesus.

The birth of Jesus? She can’t say that! She’s a governor.

At least according to the Scrooges at the Freedom from Religion Foundation (FFRF), an atheist nonprofit organization that, in their words, works to keep state and church separate.

Sarah’s e-mail really got the agitated atheist’s tinsel in a twist.

The angry elves at FFRF couldn’t let this stand, and they jumped into action, pounced, if you will. They sent a letter to the Governor demanding that she rescind the statement, claiming it violated the First Amendment’s Establishment Clause. Going even further, they demanded that she no longer use her office to promote ‘Christian Mythology’ as truth.

Next, this happened.


Y’know, her dad would’ve benefited tremendously from a lot more of his daughter’s backbone and feistiness back when he was in politics.

“Please know that I will do no such thing.” Epic! Also, LEGEND! I think I maybe came in my pants a little just now.

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