Category: Disasters Near and Far

Reserved for natural disasters and other dismaying news not directly related to the WoT

Historical illiteracy: it’s not just for the Left anymore

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Man alive, obsessive JOOJOOJOOOOOphobia sure does lead some of us who really ought to know better into some pretty odd places, intellectually speaking.

No, Churchill Was Not the Villain
The historian Darryl Cooper has argued in an interview on Tucker Carlson’s show that Winston Churchill “was the chief villain of World War II,” which would be both interesting and indeed shocking were his thesis not based on such staggering ignorance and disregard for historical fact that it is safe to disregard completely.

Cooper’s first argument was that Churchill “was primarily responsible for that war becoming what it did, something other than an invasion of Poland.” Yet in the moment that Adolf Hitler invaded Belgium, Holland, and Luxembourg at dawn on May 10, 1940, Winston Churchill was not even prime minister. Unless Mr. Cooper is arguing that from his position as First Lord of the Admiralty—the head of Britain’s navy—Churchill was somehow able to force Hitler to unleash Blitzkrieg in the West, his first argument falls to the ground.

Hitler had planned his surprise attack through the Ardennes—the “Sickle-cut” maneuver—with senior generals such as Erich von Manstein, Erwin Rommel, and Gerd von Rundstedt several months before the attack took place. They bear responsibility “for that war becoming what it did,” not Churchill. Furthermore, they also bear full responsibility for the unprovoked invasion of neighboring Poland itself, about which Cooper and Carlson were silent.

In April 1939, when Churchill was not even in the cabinet, the British government guaranteed Poland’s security, so Hitler had no right to be surprised when Britain went to war with Germany when he flagrantly disregarded that guarantee.

Cooper’s next egregious error was to blame Operation Barbarossa on Hitler’s perception of a threat from Stalin, or a Soviet plan to capture Romanian oilfields, completely ignoring the genuine reason, which was the Nazi demand for Lebensraum—”living space” in Eastern Europe, especially in Belarus and Ukraine. One wonders whether Cooper has ever read Mein Kampf, in which Hitler’s ultimate intentions were made plain. Elsewhere in the interview he makes the outlandish claim that Hitler “no longer thought of Russia as an international Communist movement,” which contradicts all the evidence of Hitler’s public and private statements prior to unleashing Barbarossa.

Cooper next claimed that the millions of Soviet prisoners of war who died in German captivity did so because the Nazi leadership “had no plans for POWs,” ignoring the obvious fact, well supported by the sources, that in fact the deaths of millions of Soviet POWs were the deliberate Nazi plan for what to do with them.

Cooper goes on to castigate Churchill for not accepting Hitler’s peace proposals during the Phoney War from October 1939 to May 1940, stating that Hitler “didn’t want to fight France or Britain.” Yet by then he had invaded Poland, and had no intention of disgorging it, so the original casus bellum remained.

“The war was over and the Germans won by the fall of 1940,” Cooper states. Not so. The Germans had indeed forced the British from the Continent at Dunkirk by June 1940, but it is to Churchill’s everlasting and untarnishable glory that he kept Britain in the war until Nazi evil was extirpated. The war at sea was continuing, as was the war on the North African littoral. Greece came into the conflict in April 1941, drawing German forces south two months before Barbarossa. The battle was lost by Britain, true, but the war was far from won by Hitler.

Cooper’s wailing that Churchill rejected Hitler’s peace offers also fails to take into account the fact that had Britain made an ignoble peace in 1940, Hitler would have been able to concentrate all his forces on the East in his invasion of Russia in June 1941. Instead, he was forced to keep 30 percent of the Luftwaffe and considerable land forces in the western part of Europe. It was perhaps Churchill’s greatest act of statesmanship, that of a hero rather than “the chief villain of World War II.”

When Cooper blames Churchill for “demonizing [Neville] Chamberlain” in 1940, he is presumably ignorant of the fact that Churchill in fact asked Chamberlain to join his War Cabinet, where he worked closely and cordially with him, and then gave one of his greatest speeches as his eulogy to Chamberlain in November 1940.

“Churchill wanted a war,” claimed Cooper. “He wanted to fight Germany.” Not so. From the moment Hitler came to power in Germany, Churchill warned of the threat the Nazis posed to world peace, and how weak the West was militarily, but his solution was to rearm, not to monger war. He had fought in the trenches in the Great War and had lost too many friends in it to want another war, but he was willing to undergo it if the only alternatives were disgrace and dishonor.

Cooper then alleged, again without any evidence, that Churchill wanted war because “the long-term interests of the British Empire were threatened by the rise of a power like Germany.” Again, not so. All senior British policymakers recognized that the threats to the Empire came from Japan in the Far East, Fascist Italy in northeast Africa, and Russia in the Near East. Germany had no contiguous borders with the British Empire anywhere. A glance at a map would have shown Cooper that.

Cooper gave what Carlson called “the wryest smile I’ve ever seen” when he answered Carlson’s naïve question as to “What was [Churchill]’s motive?” in wanting to fight World War II. The true reason was that Churchill knew he needed to extirpate Nazism, but according to Cooper it was because “Churchill’s got a long and complicated history” that needed “redemption” because “Churchill was humiliated by his performance in the First World War.”

This ludicrous piece of cod psychology simply does not stand up. Churchill’s performance in World War I included being the man who got the Royal Navy ready for the war, who transported the entire British Expeditionary Force to France without the loss of a man in August 1914, who defended Antwerp during a crucial period that October, who undertook 30 trench raids in no man’s land as a lieutenant colonel, and who was the minister of munitions who provided the British Army with much of the weaponry necessary to win in 1918. The idea that the Gallipoli disaster, for which Churchill was ultimately though not solely responsible, made him feel a need for “redemption” a quarter of a century later is hogwash.

Cooper then describes Churchill as “a psychopath,” which surely says more about his own state of mind than Churchill’s. He goes on to make the accusation that Churchill “was a drunk,” which he was not, although he certainly drank a lot. Churchill could hold his liquor, and there was only one occasion during World War II when he was drunk, an astonishing achievement considering the pressure he was under.

I’ve not the vaguest clue what could have possessed Tucker the C to have this assclown on for an interview and treat with him as if he were actually a sane, sensible sort whose ahistorical revisionism was worth taking at all seriously, but I very much hope he gets over whatever it is and starts to feel better real soon.

Perhaps the single most crotch-chafing aspect of this spectacular, wide-spectrum self-beclownment—the Platonic ideal of what political pundits are talking about when they call some foolishness or other an “unforced error”—is the smear-fodder it hands, gratis, to salivating shitlibs, who will assuredly not let any moss grow on them before jumping in with both feet to take fullest advantage of the golden opportunity gratuitously provided them by Tucker, his out-there interviewee, and likeminded Jewphobic nitwits.

Not that I, you, or anybody else gives a fat rat’s patoot about what those “people” think, about anything. But still. To wit:

The shameful Nazi apologism of the Very Online right
Tucker Carlson’s chat with Darryl Cooper was a new low for the crank right.

Forget that toothless crackhead who says he had sex with Barack Obama. Never mind the lowlife pimp who cosplays as a lifestyle guru, Andrew Tate. This week Tucker Carlson scraped even lower in the barrel of cranks to find a guest for his chat show on X. He had on Darryl Cooper, a historian, podcaster and – wait for it – apologist for Adolf Hitler. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, we’ve now reached the ‘Were the Nazis really the bad guys?’ stage of contrarian online blather.

Tucker’s chat with Cooper has caused a storm. As well it might. Also known as ‘Martyr Made’, Mr Cooper is a notorious historical revisionist. He has huge beef with Winston Churchill. Churchill, not Hitler, was the true villain of the Second World War, he says. He’s a giddy promoter of the myth that Hitler made a peace offer in 1940 but Churchill rejected it and insisted on plunging the world into war. Hitler the peacenik – who saw that coming down the pipeline of online bollocks?

What Cooper told Carlson was insane. Churchill was a ‘psychopath’ kept in power by Zionist interests, he said. As for all those poor Jews in the camps – they ‘ended up dead’ because the stretched Nazis lacked the time and resources to care for them, he insisted. Depicting the Nazis’ industrialised slaughter of the Jews of Europe as an accident, just a sad, regrettable byproduct of their being too busy, is sick. It’s a species of Holocaust denial. That Carlson nodded along to such rancid revisionism is shameful.

For the true measure of Cooper, consider what he said in a recent post on X, since deleted. Paris under the Nazis, he tweeted, was ‘infinitely preferable in virtually every way’ to the Paris of the Olympics opening ceremony. To drive home his fascistic point, he put a photo of Hitler and his henchmen surveying the spoils of Paris next to a screenshot of that plump drag queen who formed the centrepiece of the Last Supper pisstake at the opening ceremony. Look, I hated the opening ceremony, but – I can’t believe this needs to be said – Paris of 2024 is preferable in every way to the Paris that was conquered by the marauding inhuman racists of the Nazi regime. This is where we’re at, folks: having to explain that a drag queen on your TV is less bad than a Jew-murdering machine taking over your country.

And this, mind, not from a wild-eyed Leftard, but the more-or-less moderate Brandon O’Neill.

Be that as it may, the inexplicable Carlson/Cooper lovefest suggests a question or three. Namely: Have the asswipes both Left and Right really dragged Western Civ to the point where it must only be one or the other? That—Roosevelt, Churchill, and presumably De Gaulle having been stricken from eligibility in the “heroes” category because the (Not) Smart Set has re-evaluated them as WW2’s Worst Monsters—we’re reduced to a binary choice between either Hitler or *gulp* Stalin? Either it’s Nazi thugs marching or Manwoman degenerates prancing down the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, no in-between option to be found anywhere along that wide, history-steeped thoroughfare? SRSLY, people?!?

Thanks a pantload for this stellar contribution to the public discourse, Tucker. New category for annoying twaddle such as this: Dem pesky ((((JOOOOOOOZ!!!))))

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Ready or not, here they come

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It’s a big club, and you ain’t in it.


And, apparently, geese and ducks in plenty to slaughter, dress, and eat publicly.


When they aren’t camping out on people’s front lawns and menacing them, that is.


The “Show more” link transcription, because it’s truly, truly infuriating.

Springfield, Ohio woman says homeless Haitians are trying to camp out on her front yard, says she “wants out of this town.”

“I have men that cannot speak English in my front yard, screaming at me, throwing mattresses in my front yard.”

“Look at me, I weigh 95 pounds. I couldn’t defend myself if I had to. My husband is elderly.”

“I don’t understand what you expect of us as citizens. I understand they’re here under temporary protected status and you’re protecting them, and I understand that our city services are overwhelmed and understaffed, but who’s protecting us?”

“Who’s protecting me? I want out of this town. I am sorry. Please give me a reason to stay.”

Whatever would you do, Springfieldians, without Stretch Pelosi’s “spark of divinity” types, eh?


And there you have it. Bottom line: I don’t care how you much you hate D卐M☭CRATs, people, I assure you you do NOT hate them enough.

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Boeing: the long, slow death of a legend

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The Woke mind-virus, as Elon Musk hath so aptly dubbed it, claims another formerly-distiguished victim.

Boeing Employees Humiliated That SpaceX Will Rescue the Astronauts Stranded by Starliner
“We hate SpaceX. We talk s**t about them all the time, and now they’re bailing us out.”

Over the weekend, NASA finally made the decision to return Boeing’s plagued Starliner without a crew on board. That means stranded NASA astronauts Butch Wilmore and Suni Williams will now have to wait for a SpaceX Crew Dragon to return them from the International Space Station in February, stretching an eight-day journey into an eight-month one.

In other words, the aerospace giant’s first crewed test flight has been a disaster, with technical issues afflicting Starliner’s propulsion system proving insurmountable and putting the company in the position to be “rescued” by its biggest competitor in space tech.

Unsurprisingly, NASA’s decision to return the capsule with no crew on board has been a major blow to morale. As the New York Post reports, Boeing employees were left “humiliated” following the announcement.

Worse yet, it’s not just Starliner’s messy test flight — Boeing has been dealing with numerous crises, from passenger jets falling apart mid-flight to reports of major mismanagement.

“We have had so many embarrassments lately, we’re under a microscope,” one Boeing worker told the NY Post, speaking under condition of anonymity. “This just made it, like, 100 times worse.”

“We hate SpaceX,” he added. “We talk shit about them all the time, and now they’re bailing us out.”

Fran deftly puts paid to that whiny-ass horseshit.

Oh, you hate SpaceX, do you? You should be overpoweringly glad that SpaceX doesn’t hate you. If Elon Musk were similarly minded toward you, he’d leave your astronauts in space until you could retrieve them. How do you think that would look to the flying public, on top of all your other recent disasters?

Uglier’n the proverbial mud fence, I’d bet, if the rest of the flying public thinks anything like the tiny fraction of it sitting at this h’yar desk o’ mine does. Gee, wonder what these weepy, wimpy Boeing diversity-hires might look like, just out of pure idle curiosity?

Oh. Exactly like one would expect them to look, then. As Bob Bishop pithily puts it: Houston, we have a problem.

We do at that. But hey, at least OUT! cupcakes such as the two above-depicted Stunning, Brave HEROES!!!© feel “seen” and “heard.” That’s what really matters, right? Especially when it’s manned space flight, meeting the myriad challenges of exploring the Final Frontier, and the rigors of cutting-edge science and engineering with actual human lives on the line we’re talking about.

Four or five more years of this and the intentionally enfeebled Boeing Company will exist only in memory—just another proud American icon brought low by Wokester dweebs ’n’ feebs, their relentless PC ethos, and the Long March Through The Institutions. Then, for Gus, Casady, and their noxious ilk, it’ll be onwards and upwards to the next target slated for destruction.

Seriously, who gives a tinker’s damn about space nowadays? What did space exploration ever do for anybody? Any chest-thumping American Supremacist with a selfish hankering to burn tons and tons of (fossil!) rocket fuel so’s they can go fiddle-futzing around out in the Vasty Black Nowhere can always hitch a ride with the Rooskies, the (dot-not-feather) Indians, our bosom chums the ChiComs, or some other space-faring nation-state.

Hell’s bell’s, I never liked Tang anyway; the stuff tastes like warmed-over doo-doo with a fistful of used litterbox sand stirred in.

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To Civil War, or NOT to Civil War?

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On Amerika v2.0’s self-evidently fraudulent “elections.”

Of course the propagandists gaslit everyone – election fraud was a conspiracy theory, it was the most secure election in history, and so on and so forth. That this was the precise opposite of what they’d been saying for the previous four years – that Russia had hacked Our Democracy – was neither here nor there. Later Time Magazine bragged that they had ‘fortified’ the election, which everyone understood to as an admission that they’d stolen it.

Election fraud in America utilizes a variety of tactics: ballot stuffing, ballot harvesting from senile seniors, registering illegal immigrants and other non-citizens to vote (which, as everyone knows, is why the regime is so hostile to voting ID laws), electronically forged ballots, and forged mail-in ballots. Definitive evidence of any one form of electoral fraud is extremely difficult to obtain, requiring painstaking forensic work. Even when such evidence is found, it will only pertain to one form of fraud, in one or a few locations. This enables regime respecters to claim that fraud is rare, and does not occur on a large enough scale to swing elections. Somehow they never say that any cheating at all is unacceptable. Funny that.

Not everyone fell for the fraud, of course. Outraged rallies began to spontaneously rise up across the country, ultimately converging on DC for the doomed J6 ‘insurrection’.

It didn’t matter.

The propagandists called Trump’s supporters terrorists. Those who entered the Capitol were arrested, imprisoned, subjected to various forms of psychological torture.

The regime stole the election in broad daylight, grinned with its hands in the cookie jar, looked the country right in the eyes with crumbs dribbling down its wobbling chins, grinned “What cookie?”, and dared anyone to call it on their blatant lies.

The regime got away with it.

It is obvious that they are doing the same thing again. It worked the first time, so why would they not? The Biden administration proved that you don’t need a charismatic candidate, or even a minimally competent one. All you need is a warm body that can be wheeled in front of the cameras every now and then. The compliance of the propaganda organs renders any embarrassing behaviour from the warm body wholly irrelevant. Enough of the population is so thoroughly brainwashed, so completely incapable of evaluating reality, so utterly prostrated before propaganda, that they will believe whatever they are told to believe and they will do so with the whole of their hollowed-out hearts. Not everyone, to be sure … but enough. Particularly as those most completely captured are the Single Woke Females, the professional-managerial class aparat-chicks that infest the institutions.

In the confusing months between November 2020 and J6, there was rampant speculation Trump would take some sort of bold action – a military coup d’etat, or even a Civil War. There’s no question that if he’d given the word his supporters would have turned out in their millions. Everyone sensed that it was go time, and they were ready to go. In the end, after some half-hearted lawsuits and a few rallies, the big man lost his nerve. Go home, he told his supporters. Go in peace. It’s over.

He may well have been right to do so. The Biden presidency was disastrous for America. The economy has fallen apart; inflation has wiped people out; the leaking border has shattered, letting in tens of millions, many criminals, many very possibly much worse than criminals; America has found itself embroiled in wars all over the world, which threaten to turn nuclear. The last four years have been an almost unprecedented national humiliation. Biden is, without a shadow of a doubt, the worst president America has ever had.

But was the Biden presidency worse than a Civil War?

Think about that.

And that really is the question, isn’t it? In effect, it amounts to the same quandary I’ve been struggling with here for a very long time now—or it FEELS like a very long time, at any rate. To wit: Is it better to fight back against metastasizing Überstadt tyranny to the last drop of Patriot blood, or to maintain the illusion of notional “peace” and tacitly accept defeat? In the end, I think, the hard nut of our dilemna comes down to this:

And there you have it. The rest is just applesauce.

Update! Having linked/excerpted him a cpl-three times now, the time has come to grant the planet-hopping Jeddak of Helium John Carter his rightful place of honor in Ye Aulde CF Blogrolle, methinks. Done, done, and done.

Updated update! And with the addition of the Warlord of Mars to our CF blogroll section, it occurs to me that a thorough scouring/refreshing/reshuffling of said section to update changed URLs, delete abandoned or extinct blogs, and put in new (if only to me) blogs/sites/portals—a tedious albeit essential routine-maintenance chore I dread like an ass-whuppin’, thus encouraging my lifelong habit of procrastination*—is way overdue. *le sigh*

* Did somebody say “lifelong” just now? I originally learned the word “procrastination” when my first-grade teacher wrote it on my very first report card, cautioning my parents to be on the lookout for my seemingly-innate inclination to it. I repeat: *le sigh*

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“Joy,” eh?

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Joy juice, more like.

Newsweek Says Republicans Are Spreading Rumors About Kamala Harris’ ‘Drinking Problem’
Forget all the rumors you’ve heard about Nancy Pelosi having a drinking problem — now Republicans are spreading rumors about Kamala Harris and her supposed drinking problem. We’ll have to read the piece to find just how widespread this is. We’ve heard rumors about Harris’ intelligence; Donald Trump has said she’s not a very smart person.

How would such a rumor get started, anyway? It’s not like Harris serves up word salad for every meal and cackles at her own jokes.

Frankly, it would explain a lot if Harris had a drinking problem. If this is her sober…

Of course, there IS one other possibility here.


Hey, you pays your money and you takes your choice, D卐M☭CRATs.


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Another American icon bites the big Woke one

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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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Vengeance is mine

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Sayeth Southwest Airlines, and it’s pretty gol-danged schweet.

Apparently, it could be a genuine, bona fide SWA Tweet. Although the linked article pooh-poohs that out of hand, saying that SWA hasn’t posted anything at all on X since January in favor of (UGHHGAGBLECCHHH!) Instagram, I’m with Fox Mulder: I WANT to believe! Whoever is behind this, GREAT one, guys.

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Government playing God

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YET AGAIN, that is.

To save spotted owls, US officials plan to kill hundreds of thousands of another owl species
To save the imperiled spotted owl from potential extinction, U.S. wildlife officials are embracing a contentious plan to deploy trained shooters into dense West Coast forests to kill almost a half-million barred owls that are crowding out their cousins.

The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service strategy released Wednesday is meant to prop up declining spotted owl populations in Oregon, Washington state and California. The Associated Press obtained details in advance.

Documents released by the agency show up to about 450,000 barred owls would be shot over three decades after the birds from the eastern U.S. encroached into the West Coast territory of two owls: northern spotted owls and California spotted owls. The smaller spotted owls have been unable to compete with the invaders, which have large broods and need less room to survive than spotted owls.

Past efforts to save spotted owls focused on protecting the forests where they live, sparking bitter fights over logging but also helping slow the birds’ decline. The proliferation of barred owls in recent years is undermining that earlier work, officials said.

“Without actively managing barred owls, northern spotted owls will likely go extinct in all or the majority of their range, despite decades of collaborative conservation efforts,” said Fish and Wildlife Service Oregon state supervisor Kessina Lee.

The notion of killing one bird species to save another has divided wildlife advocates and conservationists. It’s reminiscent of past government efforts to save West Coast salmon by killing sea lions and cormorants that prey on the fish, and to preserve warblers by killing cowbirds that lay eggs in warbler nests.

“The Fish and Wildlife Service is turning from protector of wildlife to persecutor of wildlife,” said Wayne Pacelle, founder of the advocacy group Animal Wellness Action. He predicted the program would fail because the agency won’t be able to keep more barred owls from migrating into areas where others have been killed.

The shootings would likely begin next spring, officials said. Barred owls would be lured using megaphones to broadcast recorded owl calls, then shot with shotguns. Carcasses would be buried on site.

Sick, arrogant fucks. But don’t any of you Serf Class oafs be getting any bright ideas from this, mmmkay?

Public hunting of barred owls wouldn’t be allowed. The wildlife service would designate government agencies, landowners, American Indian tribes or companies to carry out the killings. Shooters would have to provide documentation of training or experience in owl identification and firearm skills.

Oh goodie, I feel better already! I’m confident it will all work out a-okay—y’know, just like every other one of their meddlesome, half-baked schemes has— now that I know that goobermint-vetted “experts” are involved. There DOES seem to be one other tiny, minor little problem though.

But there is more to this story than the “old growth” fabrication. Another misrepresentation is that the northern spotted owl is a unique species at all.

Endangered “northern spotted owls” are a “sub-species” of spotted owls, which means they are, in fact, the same species as California spotted owls and Mexican spotted owls, which also live on the west coast. Their difference is that geographic distance and separation have caused some differences in plumage and appearance. To call these spotted owls a different “sub-species” is like stating that Norwegians, Koreans, and Nigerians are different subspecies of homo sapiens. The notion of bird “sub-species” is actively rejected by many in the ornithology community.

This research piece from the Cooper Ornithological Society makes it rather clear that the spotted owl is all one species, noting that the northern spotted owl’s identifying features are based on a specimen from Puget Sound in Washington, while the California spotted owl is based on one from Southern California, but the identifying features of spotted owls gradually morph between the two locations.

In summary, two great lies are at the root of the environmental damage that has been done in the name of the spotted owl: 1) That logging was responsible for their decreasing spotted owl population in the Pacific Northwest; and 2) That there is even such a species as the “northern spotted owl.”

But hundreds of thousands of barred owls are now going to be killed in perpetuation of these lies. Considering that the “green,” anti-carbon advocates of the wind industry defend the senseless killing of millions of eagles, raptors, and migratory birds as a necessary religious sacrament, this proposed owl slaughter is consistent with the 21st Century environmental movement.

Ummm…OOOPS! Well, hey, ya wins some and ya loses some, I reckon. After all, it’s really the thought that counts, right?

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Misplaced pride

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A sobering reminder of the dismal State of Our (Fractured) Union.

After decades of witnessing America hasten into a dark nightmare of an existence and an ever more uncertain, ill-prepared direction for the future of the country, under a fascist Marxist-Maoist regime, our reasons to be proud of this country have become practically non-existent, on this 4th of July, due to largely inadequate counters or no counterattacks at all to prevent or halt the constant and continuous assaults and attacks by America’s domestic terrorists and the enemies-from-within, as well as enemies from abroad. And as many prepare to celebrate America’s Independence Day, Americans should reflect on their own vision for the not so “united” United States of America and whether or not they love this nation enough to ensure its continued success and survival throughout the 21st century as the greatest nation on earth.

This is the nation that gave the world the marriage between the ideas of liberty and the equality of all under the law, which greatly enabled and facilitated the highest levels of individual liberty and the greatest economic prosperity ever seen throughout the entire history of mankind. This alone would ordinarily make America a very Exceptional nation indeed, if not for the advent of the new amerikkans who hate America’s founding, Her principles and Western civilization itself.

The American Flag is heavily worn, and its stars are faded today, after roughly 200 years of America being such an exceptional nation. Yes, we know She’s stood tall for many years, the best She could for 248 years, but a large segment of the American people — those with a long line of American ancestry as well as the newer generations of immigrants — have themselves diminished and torn asunder the luster of the idea of American Exceptionalism and that Shining City on the Hill that has so often been used across history to depict America, and in far too many instances they have sabotaged the country and American virtues and principles by way of numerous Machiavellian mechanisms, as seen for example in the 1913 Federal Reserve Bank Act, 1929 Stock Market Crash, 1965 Immigration Act, the Covid Pandemic, mail-in ballots, “Election Month” instead of “Election Day” and the New Green Deal.

Our nation emerged from the fire, fury and chaos of the War for Independence with the hopes of the people and a people determined to live free through their own capabilities and devices without the heavy, tyrannical hand of any government from that day on, but from the looks of things today, those hopes were dashed repeatedly across the ages. They revolted over a two percent tax hike on tea, and yet here we sit today taxed on every damned thing under the sun, including the property we supposedly own and the very damned air we breathe.

The average American has many more valid reasons to revolt today, than they had in 1776. Consider the Declaration of Independence, and then consider the current political malaise that has grabbed the American people by the cajones and seemingly just sucked the will and the life out of them, as they sit back ever complacent and apathetic as a Marxist-Maoist juggernaut rolls over their inalienable God-given rights as seen in Natural Law made by God the Creator. One can almost hear the bleating as one walks down Main Street USA.

Never in American history have we seen our country and its people so sorely abused and put upon. Never have the American people suffered such a long train of abuses and usurpations, as we are suffering through today under this Marxist-Maoist communist regime that has captured our government through and through. And it’s damned hard to be proud of a country that has allowed for this, that stands by this very moment watching as if the situation will somehow miraculously resolve itself, as the Democratic Party move ahead with the fundamental transformation of America into something foreign and antithetical to Her founding, a tyrannical Socialist Super-State.

I’ve steadfastly maintained in recent years that, rather than celebrating an America that long since ceased to exist except in the minds and hearts of Real American patriots, the 4th of July ought to be informally declared a national day of mourning, swapping out the red, white, and blue with funereal black. Even so, I do think it worthwhile to celebrate—and take pride in—the unrivaled greatness of our Founding Fathers, if only to help us keep their accomplishments, the principles that inspired them, and the nation they selflessly pledged absolutely everything to ordain and establish foremost in our thoughts—not just today, but every day of the year.

Plus, there’s the side-benefit that doing so will piss shitlibs off so bad they’ll be running ’round and ’round in tight little circles like a man with one foot staked with an Arkansas Toothpick to the ground, frothing, baying, and shrieking like little girls over how horribly UNFAAAAIIIIR!!!! it all is—a spectacular tableau of grief-sodden, self-destructive futility bound to gladden the hearts of all Real Americans. I ask you, what’s not to like about that?

(Via Dave Renegade)

Unrelated update! Apropos of nothing whatsoever, I just noticed that, as of this moment, I have precisely ZERO (0) open blogfodder-tabs left—INCROYABLE!!

Granted, having deemed it unlikely that I ever would get around to properly addressing them at this point, I regretfully pulled the plug on three (3) long-open browser tabs earlier today that had been open so dang long they were dusty, rusty, and way past their use-by date. I mean, these things were so ancient I can’t even recollect why I’d originally thought they might be of much interest to anyone, much less interesting enough to inspire me to write about ‘em. Call it a mercy killing, perhaps.

But still…INCROYABLE!! Also, because reasons: SACRE BLEU!!

Another development which came to my attention yestiddy afternoon whilst slaving away to put the weekly Memezapoppin’ post together: my once-ginormous stockpile of memes awaiting deployment has dwindled to a mere shadow of its former robust self. Can’t even remember the last time that happened; it’s unsettling, frankly. Makes me feel rootless, adrift, without purpose, bereft. Out of the blue, I’m suffused with anxiety over a suddenly-unsettled future wherein, sooner or later, I’ll be caught with my pants down, as it were.

Yessir, to my astonishment and horror, the reassuring Strategic Meme Reserve I’d always taken for granted as a last-ditch backup which guaranteed me a steady, uninterrupted meme-stream to tap for post-content for the twice-weekly delectation of discerning, meme-thirsty CF Lifers and/or Eyrie Eyregulars in time of war and/or emergency is now almost totally drained. Disappointing you fine folks so egregiously by having to shut off the meme-spigot, albeit temporarily, owing entirely to my improvident lack of forethought is simply abhorrent to me— altogether unconscionable, unpardonable, unacceptable. T’is a personal disgrace, a fate worse than death, when you get right down to it.

Unlike the semi-successfully reanimated, overripe fleshly remains of Undead Jaux “Walks Among Us” Biden, I can’t even plead the near-fatal ravages of an immediate-onset head cold and/or mysteriously persistent faux fatigue from a weeks-past European sojourn for the undisclosed purpose of putting in a nominally lifelike appearance at a critically urgently vitally critical, inexplicably exhausting confab with my fellow-socialist-despot counterparts as excuse for my dereliction of duty, ferchrissake.

As expressed in the tear-soaked, grotesquely-theatrical sobs of Jerry Lee Lewis’s infamous cousin: I have sinned…against…you!

On the bright(er) side, it amounts to yet another recapitulation of a lesson drummed into me right down to the cellular level by many years of full-body immersion in the rock and roll lifestyle: too much is never enough. Guess I better get to surfing, downloading, and warehousing toot sweet…

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Is it okay to start killing them yet?

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Of course it is, my dear. You’ve had the power to do that all along, you know, you just had to learn it for yourself. And now that they’re openly declaring that they’re just about to start killing YOU, why the hell not?

‘Take Out Trump’: Left-Wingers Fantasize About Biden Having ‘Immunity’ To Assassinate Trump, SCOTUS Justices
The left-wing media and pundits fantasized about President Joe Biden assassinating former President Donald Trump and Supreme Court justices as an official act following the Supreme Court’s presidential immunity decision Monday.

The decision ruled presidents have immunity from prosecution for official acts taken while in office. Chief Justice John Roberts stated in the majority opinion the analysis on which acts in the indictment are considered official are “best left to the lower courts.” Trump appealed Department of Justice (DOJ) Special Counsel Jack Smith’s four-count indictment against him related to conspiring to overturn the 2020 election on January 6, 2021.

Several pundits accused the Supreme Court of being an ally to Trump, while others went as far as to suggest allowing President Joe Biden to assassinate Trump.

The Nation Justice correspondent Elie Mystal claimed Biden was able “to do the funniest thing ever,” prompting social media users to accuse him of suggesting Biden should commit lethal harm to his political opponent.

Attorney Bradley P. Moss argued the court has granted the president “unequivocal immunity” to take military action against Trump and execute his former White House chief strategist Steve Bannon, who has been sentenced to serve a four-month prison term for his contempt of Congress conviction.

Left-wing personality Harry Sisson argued the decision allows Biden to “send in the military to take out Trump” and Supreme Court justices.

“According to the Supreme Court, Biden could now send in Seal Team 6 to take them all out,” Sisson wrote. “He could send in the military to take out Trump. He has ‘immunity’ for official acts now!”

“No need to pack the Supreme Court now either. Just get rid of the ones you don’t like and then approve their successors,” another Twitter user wrote. “We can go from ‘life time appointments’ to a job so risky no one will accept it.”

Users said Biden could “drone strike” the residences of Trump and the justices.

“President Biden can have Supreme Court justices executed for treason,” another said. “He can drone strike Mar-a-Lago. Rape, pillage and murder at will. All in the name of an ‘official act.’”

And if you think they’re in any way just kidding around, don’t intend for their words to be taken literally, or exaggerating just to make a larger point, then you’re a goddamned fool; at the very best, you don’t know your Leftists very well. The entire history of Leftism worldwide tells us that these are by NO means empty threats, so why take a chance that this time will be any sort of departure from the norm? Best to exercise “an abundance of caution,” as the FauxVid mantra had it, and get busy shooting, stabbing, hanging, and dropping Leftists from great heights preemptively, before they can do it to us.

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The Great and Powerful Oz

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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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The Left, eating itself

Posted on      by     

Questions without answers, problems without solutions.

We’re well into “Pride Month” now – only another twelve or fifteen weeks to go – and, as you know, my advice to the LGBTQWERTY crowd is to enjoy it while you can. Because demography is destiny, and the successor populations imported into the west will not be hot for Pride parades. That process is already underway, and it will intensify. To reiterate:

In the end, it’s all demography… You can change all the boys into girls and all the girls into boys but in the end there aren’t enough of either to alter the outcome. You’re merely arguing about who’ll be using which bathroom on the Oblivion Express.

Or maybe who’ll be waxing which genitals on the Oblivion Express. We used to do trans waxing stories on Rush and elsewhere every so often because, for a while, thanks to the psycho-tranny from hell in British Columbia, there were rather a lot of them. But, if you’re the salon-owner getting scorched, it’s not really funny:

Trans-identified male awarded $35,000 by Ontario court after women’s salon refused to wax ‘her’ balls

By “awarded”, the Court means that the proprietor of the ladies’ salon Mad Wax in Windsor, Ontario will have to pay it to her. His name, delightfully, is Carruthers (not this Carruthers, presumably). The bepenised beauty called up to have her wedding tackle waxed on a day when the attendant in question was …oh, I’m sure you can guess:

The salon employee working that day was a devout Muslim woman who refrained from physical contact with men, and the salon owner told the trans woman that they could not find a way to accommodate her request.

In other words, there is no correct answer to this dilemma. Mr Carruthers could have instructed the devout Muslima to wax the meat-and-two-veg in question and earned himself an entirely different “human rights” complaint or, alternatively, a visit to the bottom of the Detroit River courtesy of her husband and brothers. Like I said, no correct answer; an excess of diversity; what Marx would call the internal contradictions of multiculturalism.

The court in question was the Ontario “Human Rights” Tribunal, where I beat the rap over a decade-and-a-half ago. But time creeps on and the “human rights” judges have now discovered the universal human right to have your testicles depilated by an observant Muslim lady. Try it next time you’re in Riyadh.

Oh, if only they would—every last one of them, by no later than this time tomorrow. If ever there was a problem that solved itself, the “transgender” invasion of Saudi Arabia demanding their “right,” as “women,” to have Moslems depilate their junk for them would have to be an excellent example of one.

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Deadly denouement

Posted on      by     

Stupid fucking dick-with-ears.

Alec Baldwin fired blank at crew member before fatal ‘Rust’ shooting: prosecutors
Alec Baldwin once fired a blank round at a crew member on the set of “Rust,” prosecutors alleged in new court papers, as they accused the actor of being reckless with firearms while filming.

Gee, wonder if that mightn’t be the same type of “blank round” that did for Brandon Lee some years back, perchance? Or Jon-Erik Hexum? Or Terry Kath, say? Naaah, couldn’t be, it’s unpossible.

Prosecutors in the New Mexico involuntary manslaughter case against the “30 Rock” star said they plan to bring evidence at his trial — slated to begin on July 9 — showing that Baldwin had a history of flouting safety protocols on set, which led to Halyna Hutchins’ tragic shooting death in 2021.

One such reckless moment came when Baldwin, 66, pointed his gun and fired “a blank round at a crew member” while he held the person target in his line of sight, prosecutors alleged in the Monday filing.

Other examples of Baldwin ignoring safety procedures between Oct. 12, 2021 up until the day of the shooting included him using his gun as a pointer; firing the weapon after filming was over in violation of safety rules; holding his finger on the trigger in scenes that didn’t require it; rushing armorer Hannah Gutierrez-Reed to reload his gun faster; and being on FaceTime with his family and making videos for them during firearms training, the court papers claimed.

And before filming even started Baldwin — one of the producers and the leading actor in the movie — “asked to be assigned the ‘biggest’ gun available,” the filing alleged.

In one clip, he “can be seen engaging in horseplay with his gun and pulling his gun when the scene did not call for the pulling of his gun,” the papers claimed. “When he pulls his gun the muzzle of the gun is pointed directly at another actor.”

Prosecutors said many clips show an angry and aggressive Baldwin, who can also be seen halting filming to yell and swear at the crew.

“Mr. Baldwin can be seen screaming intermittently throughout the attempts at filming the scene,” the filing claimed. “He exercises complete control over the set by stopping the acting sequence, cursing loudly and rushing the other cast and crew.”

Taken altogether this “intrinsic evidence” of Baldwin’s “other acts” leading up to Hutchins’ death shows that the incident wasn’t an “accident or mistake” — as Baldwin has maintained all along, prosecutors said.

Indeed. Looks a lot more like a pattern of behavior from where I’m sitting. Although YMMV, of course and as always.

The funny-but-not-ha-ha-funny aspect of all this is the observable demonstration of Mike’s Iron Law #462 represented herein: clearly the jerk Baldwin, subconsciously or otherwise, regarded the prop guns he recklessly and obnoxiously brandished at people on-set as the “penis substitutes” shitlibs like him so love to mock gun-fanciers for supposedly using to compensate for certain, ummm, shortcomings, shall we say. Y’know, same as stump-jumping 4WD pickups, Harley Davidsons, Texas-sized cowboy belt buckles, and high-performance American V8 engines also are.

Totally ignorant about guns of every type and description; unmindful of the most elementary precepts of firearm safety; blinded by his bloated, unchecked ego to the very real peril his childish monkeyshines put others in; negligent, preening, profoundly self-absorbed, inconsiderate, unprofessional—the real marvel here is that Alec Baldwin’s damn-fool jackanapery didn’t get some other cast- or crew-member killed long before now. Truly, the man’s a menace. One can only wonder what other horror-stories about his on-set misconduct remain untold, except in sotto voce whispers amongst the pitiable souls condemned to work with the bratty little asswart over the years.

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Somehow, I do NOT feel reassured

Posted on      by     

I don’t care so much about this story per se, interesting though it surely is. I only intend to use it as a springboard for making another point entirely, for which a clue is provided in my bolded bit.

Earth’s Core Seems to Be Wrapped in an Ancient, Unexpected Structure
The most high-resolution map yet of the underlying geology beneath Earth’s Southern Hemisphere revealed something we previously never knew about: an ancient ocean floor that may wrap around the core.

This thin but dense layer exists around 2,900 kilometers (1,800 miles) below the surface, according to a study published in 2023. That depth is where the molten, metallic outer core meets the rocky mantle above it. This is the core-mantle boundary (CMB).

“Seismic investigations, such as ours, provide the highest resolution imaging of the interior structure of our planet, and we are finding that this structure is vastly more complicated than once thought,” said geologist Samantha Hansen from the University of Alabama when the findings were announced.

Understanding exactly what’s beneath our feet – in as much detail as possible – is vital for studying everything from volcanic eruptions to the variations in Earth’s magnetic field, which protects us from the solar radiation in space.

Guess we should feel pretty lucky that we already know everything there is to know about the Earth’s climate, then; good thing for us all that there’s nothing left to learn about that. Right, guys?

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SSDD

Posted on      by     

Did he or didn’t he? Only his on-staff dipey-dumper knows for sure.

Did Joe Biden Poop Himself at the D-Day Event?
If there was any doubt that the United States is no longer a serious country with a serious mainstream media, let’s consider it settled science after the internet erupted this morning when it appeared Joe Biden pooped his pants during the D-Day event at Normandy.

PJ Media’s Matt Margolis covered the more-than-awkward event where President Biden made several humiliating gaffes, which certainly has Vladimir Putin quaking in his boots having to face off against such senility in Ukraine. However, the circus became even crazier as X users noticed a video clip where Joe Biden bends over in front of Jill in a moment where it looked like he lost control of his bowels. In the same clip, Jill Biden appears to cover her nose to escape the stench. 

Tim Pool, the purveyor of the hit YouTube political program Timcast, noted, “Oh my god he’s pooping,” which set off a poopstorm of users laughing at the President on X, not the image that Joe Biden wanted to present in the middle of an election season on a trip abroad. 

However, leave it to the left-wing serious journalists at The Daily Beast to make sure the record on this matter was fact-checked on behalf of the administration. Within hours of the event, the site had an article titled, “This Video Shows Joe Biden Did Not—in Fact—Poop Himself at D-Day Event,” oddly listed under the “Extremism” category. Whether the extremism has to do with any Chipotle burritos Joe Biden consumed before the event or not, it’s unclear.  

In the article, the mainstream shill author defends Joe Biden’s engagement as “forceful” despite the President barely excreting the words out for his canned speech. The writer tried to paint laughing at what’s a ridiculous scene — whether it’s true Joe Biden pooped or not — as some kind of situation where a viewer should be ashamed of himself for thinking such a thing of the President.  

The article branded people laughing at a ridiculous scene as “MAGA Trolls,” and the more the author protested, the more it seems the Daily Beast is attempting to cover up a hot turd on behalf of the administration. 

It’s embarrassing that we live in a country where we have to legitimately wonder whether our President pooped himself or not. This isn’t the first strange act of senility by Joe Biden, but merely the latest in a long list of cringe-worthy moments during his tenure as president. 

How DARE you impugn our Dear Leader so maliciously, you dirty Ultra-Über-Mega-MAGAT terrorist, you! Why, for a senile sharp, marginally ambulatory nimble, decrepit vigorous, detested stumblebum beloved statesman whose lower-bowel functions are incontrovertibly—a-HENH!—regular as the seasons, reliable as a Swiss watch; one hundred percent all-natural without need for laxatives, stool-softeners, enemas, anti-diarrheals, or other pharmaceutical/chemical/mechanical artificialities; and under his control completely, Too Auld Jaux is doing one HELL of a bang-up job masquerading as ***”pResident”***, damn your eyes.

For my money, the answer to my post-opening query is of no real import, pretty much beside the point. Just the fact that the question keeps cropping up again and again is entertaining enough all by itself. Sure, knowing for a certainty that the malevolent, crooked old kiddy-diddler was serially plagued by involuntary doody-downloads during public appearances, speeches, grip ’n’ grins, and such-like events would be a seriously awesome bonus. But even so, watching as the charge’s unassailable credibility compels shitlibs to rally round in spluttering, fumbletongued defense of the Incontinent in Chief every time he stops, squats, grunts, and grimaces in perfect red-faced emulation of cranking yet another ***”pResidential”*** stink-pickle in his Depends is almost as good.

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