Blibbering

Yeah, he’s just fine, no Alzheimers issues here, nosireeBOB.


Follows, several more videos confirming Pedo Peter’s total lucidity, clearheadedness, and remarkable facility for quick-wittedness and spontaneous speech, all from the same Medal of Presidential Paralympics in Freeduuhhhh…yeah, you know, the thing.

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Little Dutch girl hits it into the cheap seats

No insult intended by that “little Dutch girl” schtick, mind; I was just playing off the old “Little Dutch Boy” cultural meme, that’s all. At any rate, the brilliant, brave, and beautiful Eva Vlaardingerbroek is about as formidable as formidable comes.

Dutch Activist: The Fall of Europe, the Most Important Speech You’ll Hear
Dutch commentator Eva Vlaardingerbroek spoke at CPAC Hungary and began by talking about the stabbings and a riot in European countries and another church burning down in Europe in just the past two days.

As she said, everyone knows, and the governments know, there is a link between mass migration and crime.

This is one of the most important speeches you will hear. A rushed transcript follows the video.

Boy, is it ever—no punches pulled, no flinches flinched, nothing but the straight dope, like a nine-pound hammer straight to the kisser. Just a smidge from said transcript:

Our new reality in Europe consists of frequent rapes, murders, shootings, and even beheadings, but let me be clear about one thing, this did not used to happen before. This is a newly imported problem.

Samuel B Huntington predicted this over 25 years ago when he wrote, and I quote, “In the New World of mass migration, the most pervasive important and dangerous conflicts will not be between the social classes. They will not be between the rich and the poor. They will be between people belonging to different cultural entities, tribal wars, and ethnic conflicts will occur within civilizations.

Well, boy, was he right, and the worst part is we as a society seem to have become indifferent to it. When another white boy or white girl dies at the hands of an immigrant, we might shake our head; we might let out a sigh; we might even get angry for a minute or two, and then we go on with our lives. We are for the family, thoughts, and prayers, but nothing ever changes.”

What does that say about us?

This is the response of a society that has already given up. A society that has already accepted its defeat. But is this true? Have we given up? Do we really accept the new reality that our globalist leaders have in mind for us? I know one thing for sure, and that if nothing changes, if we don’t fight for our continent, for our religion, for our people, for our countries, then this time that we live in, will go down in history as the time in which western nations no longer had to get invaded by hostile armies to be conquered.

The esteemed and estimable Ms Vlaardingerbroek carries on in like vein from there, and it is some truly heady stuff. Francis calls her “A Voice Of Sanity,” and he couldn’t be righter about that; my sincerest thanks to him for the steer, and to Maura Dowling for the transcript. How pitifully far we’ve fallen, that simple, plainspoken truth like this should come as such a shock to us. If you prefer watching to reading, the vid is available at the link. Speaking of Fran, his closing ‘graph caps things off perfectly.

It’s time, as Eva Vlaardingerbroek has told us, to stand and fight: not for the dominance of the world by the white race, but simply for the right to be left alone in our own lands. Unless we elect to do so – and to scorn the race-hustlers and grievance-peddlers demanding that we accept an endless onslaught of “diversity” – our future will be one of marginalization and eventual extermination. Vermin and savages will enjoy – “appropriate?” – what we leave behind…while it lasts. Our ghosts will have only the bitter satisfaction of watching them turn on one another when our legacy is exhausted.

Indeed so, sir, and very well put, as per usual.

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Police story

The great Ken Layne tells it as only he can, a personal reminiscence that provides a bracing look back at the kind of old-time cop we all used to respect, trust implicitly, and admire—a noble breed which has become all too rare in Amerika v2.0, alas. They used to be the norm rather than the exception in America That Was, but tragically for us all, America That Was is no more.

Ripley
Ripley was a Riverbank cop for a good long while until he went to work for the Sheriff’s Department around 1985 or so. He was one of those old skool small town cops, Officer Friendly if you will. Him being called out for something did not mean automatic arrests of everybody involved would be made “to let the courts sort it out”.

He was one of those cops that actually took the time to listen to both sides of a dispute, would pull over to help a motorist make minor repairs rather than just calling a tow truck, and would even give you a ride home instead of automatically arresting you if you had a little too much to drink provided you weren’t so fucked up you were driving on the sidewalk and giving whiney-ass sober citizens a reason to complain. On top of all that, he had a great sense of humor.

That’s not to say he took shit off of anybody. He treated people the way they treated him. 

Real Pancho was drinking at Sanchez’s Cantina one night and shooting the shit with Tony, the owner. Things got a little spirited between a couple of the customers, and the shit spilled out into the street. Rip was either called or was just driving by and stopped to break it up. After he got everything settled and turned to walk back to his patrol car, one of the drunks slapped at the back of his head. Rip spun around and dropped him with a hard right. Real Pancho told us later, “That motherfucker went from Andy Taylor to Buford Pusser in 1.5 seconds flat, homie.”

A bunch of us were sitting around drinking beer one Friday evening and his name came up, then everybody started throwing out theories on why he was so damned lenient, everything from compassion and understanding to being a local boy to whatever. George burped and said, “Y’all are overthinking this. Rip just hates paperwork with a passion, is all. He’d rather drive around in his patrol car than sitting in the station filling out arrest reports.”

Rip had a soft spot for anybody that worked out at the ammo plant, having worked there himself during the Vietnam war before enlisting in the Marines to go kill commies. As a matter of fact, on my very first day at work, the line boss I was working for told me to keep my work badge in my wallet with my driver’s license and if Officer Ripley pulled me over, hand him both and I’d probably get off with just a warning.

He wasn’t lying, either. A couple weeks after I started there, I rolled through a stop sign at about 10 mph and was pulled over by Rip, the first time I had ever laid eyes on him. As I was digging my license out of my wallet, he saw my work badge and forgot all about my traffic infraction. We spent the next 15-20 minutes talking about the plant and the mutual friends and acquaintances we had.

That’s not to say he didn’t write us tickets if we pushed it. We got a couple warnings but if we continued to misbehave, we got a ticket with him bitching about it so much we almost felt bad for putting him on the spot. “Now here I am trying to do my damnedest to be a decent human being by not holding y’all to the literal letter of the law, but do you appreciate my kindness and good will? Oh nooooo, you test my patience time and time again. I gave you a warning for speeding, then not a week later I see you blasting through town endangering law-abiding citizens and Mexicans. I’m gonna introduce you to my Maglight if you keep this shit up. Sign here.” It was hard to hold a straight face while he was ranting.

He was welcome out at my place and showed up quite a few times with his wife Jeri and sons. They fit in well anyway with about half my friends knowing him their entire lives. He wasn’t Rip the cop when he was there, he was just Rip the local guy. He left his job at work.

People smoking weed wasn’t an issue because he was usually gone by dusk along with others that brought their kids, and back then we didn’t smoke dope around kids. I doubt anybody would’ve put him on the spot by firing up a doobie anyway even if there were no kids around.

His youngest son pulled a trigger on a real gun for the first time out at my place, and him and his boys came out fairly regularly to hunt pheasant or dove when the seasons were open.

Rip’s story is a long ‘un, and also one of the best damned reads you’re ever going to see. It pains me no end to see my daughter’s terror and dread at every interaction I’ve had with po-lice in her presence—there’s been a fair few, none of them at all adversarial and/or confrontational, all of them relaxed, casual, even cordial.

True story: once, when we were pulled over for some piffling infraction or other (a busted taillight bulb, I believe it was), the poor kid actually burst into tears as I was talking with the cop—gasping for breath, shoulders heaving, great sobs racking her little body. The cop was horrified, and tried his dead-level best to calm her down, speaking directly to her in soothing Daddy-voice tones to assure her she didn’t need to be afraid, that he’d never dream of harming a beautiful little girl like her in any way, that his job was to help people like us, not to hurt them. Finally, he gave the effort up as a lost cause, apologized profusely to me, and we all went our separate ways. I felt sooo bad for the poor guy, I really did; it was perfectly obvious to me that he was a loving parent himself, the thought of any child actually being terrified of him just absolutely wrecked the man.

A few days later, I went so far as to go to the Belmont PD HQ and ask to see Officer Whateverhisnamewas (I had caught his name from his shield and jotted it down afterwards so’s I wouldn’t forget), whereupon the SGT on front-desk duty that day brought him out and I offered my thanks for his going so far above and beyond the call etc to be such a sweet, caring guy with my distraught daughter. He blushed to his roots at that, saying t’was nothing, he meant what he said about helping people like us being part of his job, the part he himself found most satisfying of all.

I then told him I honestly had no earthly inkling as to where her reflexive fear of cops might’ve come from, that I was working diligently to teach her otherwise. In my considered opinion, the blame for Madeleine’s mystifying breakdown couldn’t fairly be laid at his doorstep, I said, reassuring him that I bore him no ill will whatsoever over the episode.

After that, we chit-chatted idly about this, that, and the other for a few more minutes—turns out he was a drawling, born-and-bred scion of good ol’ Gaston County like I was, a natural kinship which gave us plenty to discuss—then shook hands warmly and again went our separate ways with a smile on our faces, a skip in our steps, and a song in our hearts.

I have this longtime habit, see, of going out of my way to talk to cops I cross paths with in my daily round, having had many friends, neighbors, and family members who served on one force or another since I was but a wee bairn. I’ve tried to instill in her from early on the idea that cops are not too terribly different from the rest of us workaday schlubs: some of them fine folks, some of them obnoxious pricks, but in the main just regular people who have a difficult job to do, about like anybody else is/does.

I want Madeleine not to shy from the police quaking with fright as if they were the Loch Ness Monster, Nosferatu, or the Wolfman with a badge and a gun, but to treat them just as she would anyone else, taking them as they come, reserving judgment unless and until they give cause to dislike and shun them as toxic assholes. In my extensive experience with them, act as if cops are actually, y’know, human beings and they’ll usually respond positively, granting you the same small courtesy in return.

This is just another of many thorny parental dilemmas every caring Mom and Dad worthy of the name must carefully consider, then choose the course of action that seems best for their child based on the information at hand, which is usually incomplete. As such, it greatly disturbs me to think that—what with today’s militarized police kitted out as soldiers in full combat gear including Level IV body armor, automatic battle rifles, and even tanks (!!!), faces concealed robot-like behind Next Generation Integrated Head Protection System helmets, NOD goggles, and opaque face shields, champing at the bit to engage their Enemy (to wit, US) and vanquish him utterly—by urging my kid not to fear, distrust, or abhor cops I might be doing her a serious disservice at best, possibly putting her in real danger at worst.

As I’ve said so many times, when we passively allowed marauding Lefty wreckers to take our country from us, many fine things were lost in the suicidal shuffle that were very much worth holding onto. Compassionate, dedicated cops of Ripley’s stripe who deem personal integrity, selflessness, and strict attentiveness to duty to be sacrosanct would definitely be one of those things. LESSON TO BE LEARNED: In the next iteration (if any) of the Former USA, after the grassroots uprising I call the Coming Unpleasantness© has concluded and the dust has settled, perhaps We The People will be more willing—better prepared mentally, physically, and materially—to fight, truly fight, to keep them.

Yes, that of necessity means violence, bloodshed, and war, and what of it? Real Americans realize that our freedom, our heritage, our traditions, our very society itself are all worth paying any price to maintain them. The simpering, pusillanimous wretches who preemptively foreswear violent action in defense of our unique American birthright have in effect surrendered already, mewling shamefully in favor of lawsuits, Congressional investigations, higher court decisions, and “elections” as if there was any credible hope in all that endless, proven-futile meat-beatery. So to hell with them then, sayeth I.

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Capsule summary

A Sarcastica sum-up.

The Repubs continue to threaten us with a loss in November to a senile clown with their circular firing squad and other antics ………3 Soros backed Negroes with a combined integrity of a street corner heroin dealer are prosecuting persecuting (like him or not) our former President like third world shitholes do, while the media cheers them on for ratings and future lucrative book deals…………our coward-and- chief, who spends more time at home (where not subject to official call and visitor logs) than he does in the oval office, can’t regularly make it past 12 noon without a visit from Dr. Feelgood (yeah I said it) shits his pants and lies his ass off and has gone to shouting like a South American dictator about his opposition on the campaign trail………..we are being reassured of the fact throwing $80K a year at an elite institution of higher learning can produce just as many idiots as intelligent people…………and let’s not forget 185 pound trannies beating up 15 year old girls in their own school restrooms. But if all that doesn’t make you want to drink yourself into a stupor, Taylor Swift’s new album is being criticized for being poorly written……….OH THE HUMANITY!

BUT, on the upside, congress agreed to throw away send out more of your tax money and the Ukrainian civil service employees are assured of their 4 weeks of paid vacation and Zelinsky’s ol’ lady can take her regular summer Paris shopping trips.

That about covers it, I believe.

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SitRep for Amerika v2.0

Situation Normal: ALLLL Fucked Up.

The citizens of the United States of America are in deep trouble. Why? I’ll tell you why.

The following are objectively true statements about the United States of America in 2024. These statements are not in any way hyperbolic, and they represent a stark reality that not even the most rabid Fascist Democrat can deny. Here they are:

1. The leader of the nation’s opposition party is currently defending himself in a series of contrived #lawfare criminal and civil suits reminiscent of fascist Hitlerian/Stalinesque show trials of the 20th Century, for the primary purpose of making it extremely difficult for him to be elected as President of the nation.

2. On campuses throughout the nation, Jewish students are being persecuted and attacked in a manner reminiscent of the German Nazi Party’s Kristallnacht of November 9 and 10, 1938.

3. In many states across the nation there are no voting laws enforced that effectively verify that ballots come from qualified citizen voters.

4. Individuals who peacefully protested the matter of #3 have been imprisoned by the federal government in inhumane conditions for literally years without trial.

5. The nation’s Southern Border is wide open to the point where any person who is capable of walking can cross into the nation AND receive free money and support necessary to survive. There is no mechanism to ensure that criminals and terrorists are not taking advantage of such situation.

6. The current President constantly displays symptoms of advanced elder dementia.

7. The current President has repeatedly labeled the opposition party as a “threat to democracy,” often alongside visual imagery similar to that used by Hitler and other fascist leaders of the 20th Century.

8. The nation’s debt equals over 120% of its annual GDP.

9. As a consequence of inflation and interest rates, most middle class citizens of the nation cannot afford to purchase a home.

10. The political party that controls the Presidency and the Senate has actively supported sending tens of billions of dollars to foreign governments who are credibly accused of money laundering funds provided to such party members, while not providing remotely similar assistance to the residents of the State of Hawaii who were burned out of their homes.

11. The nation’s military has equipment readiness rates making it incapable of fighting effectively, while instead focusing on “diversity” initiatives that promote race/gender/sexuality over war fighting skills and competency.

12. The overwhelming majority of the nation’s mass media refuses to report on any of the above matters, and in most cases the people running such mass media have close familial and personal connections to the people directly responsible for the above matters.

These are symptoms of a nation on the verge of disintegration. Moreover, these are qualities consistent with failed fascist regimes of the 20th Century.

What are we going to do about it, Patriots?

Ahh, the eternal question. The eternal answer: I don’t know.

This time out, I decided to just cut to the C&P chase without doing the usual Tweet embed. For that, head on over to the Place de la Renegade.

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Boeing: What happened?

From a half-century as one of the world’s premier, most respected aircraft manufacturers to…well…

Meme purloined from the awesome Ken Lane. Now to the who, what, how, and why of it.

Suicide Mission
What Boeing did to all the guys who remember how to build a plane

John Barnett had one of those bosses who seemed to spend most of his waking hours scheming to inflict humiliation upon him. He mocked him in weekly meetings whenever he dared contribute a thought, assigned a fellow manager to spy on him and spread rumors that he did not play nicely with others, and disciplined him for things like “using email to communicate” and pushing for flaws he found on planes to be fixed.

“John is very knowledgeable almost to a fault, as it gets in the way at times when issues arise,” the boss wrote in one of his withering performance reviews, downgrading Barnett’s rating from a 40 all the way to a 15 in an assessment that cast the 26-year quality manager, who was known as “Swampy” for his easy Louisiana drawl, as an anal-retentive prick whose pedantry was antagonizing his colleagues. The truth, by contrast, was self-evident to anyone who spent five minutes in his presence: John Barnett, who raced cars in his spare time and seemed “high on life” according to one former colleague, was a “great, fun boss that loved Boeing and was willing to share his knowledge with everyone,” as one of his former quality technicians would later recall.

But Swampy was mired in an institution that was in a perpetual state of unlearning all the lessons it had absorbed over a 90-year ascent to the pinnacle of global manufacturing. Like most neoliberal institutions, Boeing had come under the spell of a seductive new theory of “knowledge” that essentially reduced the whole concept to a combination of intellectual property, trade secrets, and data, discarding “thought” and “understanding” and “complex reasoning” possessed by a skilled and experienced workforce as essentially not worth the increased health care costs. CEO Jim McNerney, who joined Boeing in 2005, had last helmed 3M, where management as he saw it had “overvalued experience and undervalued leadership” before he purged the veterans into early retirement.

“Prince Jim”—as some long-timers used to call him—repeatedly invoked a slur for longtime engineers and skilled machinists in the obligatory vanity “leadership” book he co-wrote. Those who cared too much about the integrity of the planes and not enough about the stock price were “phenomenally talented assholes,” and he encouraged his deputies to ostracize them into leaving the company. He initially refused to let nearly any of these talented assholes work on the 787 Dreamliner, instead outsourcing the vast majority of the development and engineering design of the brand-new, revolutionary wide-body jet to suppliers, many of which lacked engineering departments. The plan would save money while busting unions, a win-win, he promised investors. Instead, McNerney’s plan burned some $50 billion in excess of its budget and went three and a half years behind schedule.

Swampy belonged to one of the cleanup crews that Boeing detailed to McNerney’s disaster area. The supplier to which Boeing had outsourced part of the 787 fuselage had in turn outsourced the design to an Israeli firm that had botched the job, leaving the supplier strapped for cash in the midst of a global credit crunch. Boeing would have to bail out—and buy out—the private equity firm that controlled the supplier. In 2009, Boeing began recruiting managers from Washington state to move east to the supplier’s non-union plant in Charleston, South Carolina, to train the workforce to properly put together a plane.

That move, also, didn’t work out so well for the now-floundering aerospace company. The story details a toxic mish-mash of Wokesterism, the rise of a know-nothing MBA class, and a creeping, not-my-problem/not-my-fault corporate blame-shifting culture that replaced the former all-American can-do, git-er-done spirit which may well prove fatal to the once-mighty Boeing…and probably should, frankly.

It’s a sign o’ the times in Amerika v2.0, by no means unique but an increasingly commonplace story—and an extremely sad one.

(Via Ed Driscoll)

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The Biden Economic MIRACLE!© continues apace

Our ol’ buddy Stephen illustrates how it works with a, err, distasteful anecdote.

BIDENFLATION: Now Is When We Sit in the Dark and Eat the Canned Meats
So how bad are things, really, here in the real world?

Let me tell you another patented VodkaPundit True Story™.

The details are all correct and I haven’t even bothered to change the names because none of us were all that innocent.

Thirty-mumble years ago, I might have made a drunken 2 a.m. munchies run to the Safeway in Arcata, Calif., with my best friend, RJ, and the college girl roommates we were dating. RJ, for reasons best left unexplored, picked up a can of Libby’s Potted Meat Food Product — and then dared me to read the label.

I can never resist a dare but, this once, I wish I had because “Partially defatted beef fatty tissue” are words seared into my brain to this day.

No, we did not buy or eat any of Libby’s Potted Meat Food Product. We weren’t that drunk. At 22 and working only part-time, we weren’t even that broke.

But in Presidentish Joe Biden’s America, canned meats are flying off the shelves like rarely before.

While the New York Post didn’t mention Libby’s Potted Meat Food Product by name, the paper did report on Tuesday that “demand for cheap canned meats like Spam and Vienna Sausages is surging,” according to grocery chain execs.

“Spam is a regular item again,” Bronx grocery store owner Miguel Garcia told The Post. “I’m selling them at a discount now because I’m buying more.” He’s even set up showcases at his Foodtown, Keyfood, and Met Foodmarket locations for inexpensive items like Spam, Libby’s Corned Beef, and Chef Boyardee Spaghetti & Meatballs because demand is up 10%.

Garcia said his average sale is now $15, down from $20 at the end of last year because customers are choosing cheaper items.

These are the expectations baked into the shopping habits of everyday Americans after three years of Bidenomics.

And Zee Bugz, too, Steve, don’t forget Zee Deeelishious Bugz!

What a world we’ve let them make for us, eh?

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Damn fools about it

As Wellington said after Waterloo: “They came on in the same old way, and we sent them back in the same old way.” Or, as WC Fields said: “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try, again. Then quit. There’s no use in being a damn fool about it.”

S’truth. And yet.

Woke Extremist Minneapolis City Council Demands $30.60/Hour Minimum Wage for Uber and Lyft Drivers; Uber and Lyft Both Announce They Will Abandon Minneapolis
Faced with public anger about driving out the popular ride-share services, the woke extremists of the city council say they may delay when the order goes into effect.

But they’re only doing that to allow other ride-share companies — are there any? — to enter the Minneapolis market.

By the way, I base the headline claim of a $30.60 per hour minimum wage on the city council’s demand that drivers be paid a minimum 51 cents per minute when ferrying passengers.

California recently imposed a $20/hour minimum wage for fast food workers. There’s now a $16/hour minimum wage for all other jobs.

Companies immediately began firing workers and closing down stores.

A pizza chain announced the closure of five stores in California.

Analysts forecast that this law will gift California with increased unemployment for years.

That’s putting it in the best possible light.

And there you have it. As Billy Pilgrim said: “All this happened, more or less.” And so it goes.

The FauxVid fraud

Rand Paul nails ‘em to the wall AGAIN.

The Great COVID Cover-up: Shocking truth about Wuhan and 15 federal agencies
Shame on all the federal employees who covered up these facts about COVID-19

How vast was the Great COVID Cover-up? Well, my investigation has recently discovered government officials from 15 federal agencies knew in 2018 that the Wuhan Institute of Virology was trying to create a coronavirus like COVID-19.   

These officials knew that the Chinese lab was proposing to create a COVID 19-like virus and not one of these officials revealed this scheme to the public. In fact, 15 agencies with knowledge of this project have continuously refused to release any information concerning this alarming and dangerous research.

Government officials representing at least 15 federal agencies were briefed on a project proposed by Peter Daszak’s EcoHealth Alliance and the Wuhan Institute of Virology.

Read all of it; penned by the highly esteemed Sen Paul himself, the man knows whereof he speaks and takes it all the way down to the nuts and bolts of the issue. Bottom line: 1) FauxVid was actually not “Chinese CoVid,” but “US Covid,” bought and paid for entirely by FederalGovCo; and 2) Fauci is, as some of us have said all along, the most prolific mass-murderer in human history—willfully so, as is definitionally required for the charge of murder to apply.

It is not merely “unfortunate” or “regrettable” that none of the truly evil blackguards responsible will ever pay a price for their myriad crimes against humanity, it’s an atrocity.

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Fast food holocaust

I repeat: WHO COULD POSSIBLY HAVE FORESEEN…

California’s new $20-an-hour fast food minimum wage law poses headaches for school districts: ‘Harder to hire’
California’s new $20-an-hour minimum wage for fast food workers won’t just impact consumers who have to pay higher prices for menu items, but it could also make it more difficult for some public schools to retain low-paid cafeteria staffers.

Cash-strapped school districts in the Golden State could be forced to compete with billion-dollar corporations such as McDonald’s, Wendy’s and Pizza Hut parent company Yum! Brands for food service workers who are badly needed in California.

The state – which became the first in the country to guarantee free meals for all students regardless of income – will distribute 70 million more meals this year compared to 2018, according to education officials in Sacramento.

Actually, the lunch-line-ladies angle I hadn’t consider myself before—but then, I ain’t the one in charge of decreeing absurd minimum-wage hikes for low-to-no-skill-required jobs, either. Meanwhile, in another part of the forest:

Mod Pizza closes 5 California locations as $20-an-hour minimum wage law takes effect
A popular West Coast pizza chain shuttered five of its California locations shortly before the state enacted its new minimum wage law this month that raises fast-food workers’ pay from $16 an hour to $20.

Mod Pizza — which has 500 locations across the US and Canada and has been dubbed “the Chipotle of pizza” — abruptly closed up shop at its location in Clovis, near Fresno, two weeks ago, according to former employees.

“It just kind of seemed like the right timing, two weeks before all of the fast food locations in California got that increase that we closed,” one fired worker, who was among 15 that were let go, told Fox 26 TV on Tuesday.

The law, which went into effect on April 1, has been blamed for ballooning menu prices at major fast-food chains like Burger King, as The Post reported.

The ex-worker said that while he initially supported the idea of an increase in the minimum wage, it may have come at too steep of a cost.

“For the extra money, yeah,” he said. “I mean, nobody is going to turn down a raise, but at the end of the day, with repercussions like this, was it worth it?”

I dunno, you tell me: was it?

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Tabloid hijinks

Proving once and for all that the New York Post remains the greatest newspaper EVAR.

Heh. Not quite up to the lofty standard established by the NYP’s immortal “HEADLESS BODY IN TOPLESS BAR” screamin’ splash, perhaps, but still damned good. In my long-past days as a NYC resident, the Post was the only paper I bothered to buy…and it, I tried not to miss.

(Via Joe Jackson)

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Key Bridge: can we rebuild it?

No. No, we cannot.

Here’s the million-dollar question nobody is asking about the Baltimore bridge collapse…
The recent bridge collapse in Baltimore is an absolute nightmare, and our thoughts are with the victims and their families during this incredibly tough time. Beyond the heart-wrenching loss and the basic “whys” everyone’s dealing with, there’s one crucial question not many are asking: Can America rebuild the bridge?

Oh, America could have, probably. Amerika v2.0, though? Not a hope in Hell.

Sure, it might seem odd to wonder about our capability to build a bridge in 2024, but sadly, it’s a valid concern these days. When you consider how our nation is faltering under inept globalist rule, dragged down by dangerous DEI agendas that place “charity” over excellence, and watching the decimation of hardworking middle-class America, the question isn’t just rhetorical—it’s a stark reflection of our abysmal current reality.

Revolver has been calling attention to this decline in American society for quite some time, starting from when Biden first introduced his “infrastructure bill.” Fast forward three years, and here we are: bridges collapsing, roads deteriorating, and let’s not even dive into the chaos unfolding in our skies or the sorry state of our airports. Meanwhile, as China makes serious strides forward, it feels like we’re just spinning our wheels, stuck in neutral. It’s a stark contrast that highlights where our priorities have been misplaced and the need for a serious reevaluation of how we invest in our nation’s future.

The scary part is this: as we’re facing our own decline, other nations are advancing. The recent Baltimore bridge disaster could have been an attack, a result of DEI-related incompetence, or something else entirely. What’s clear, though, is that America is showing signs of wear and tear, and our focus shouldn’t be misplaced on absurd “pet projects” like electric cars or gender transitioning. It’s time to return to the fundamentals: roads, bridges, and airports, and see if we can spark that long-forgotten American “can do” spirit again. God knows we need it badly.

PRO TIP: We won’t. In fact, even if over half the country wasn’t vehemently, violently opposed to the whole “can-do spirit” concept, we still couldn’t. It isn’t a matter of “sparking” anything, but of recovering the skeletal remains from their long-since abandoned, musty crypt and bringing them back to life again. All the advanced tech, government financial largesse, and PC die-versity in the known universe can’t turn the trick.

Back in the mid-90s, when my friend Pfouts and I would go out for our regular Saturday strolls around lower Manhattan, he would sometimes shake his head ruefully and say, “Y’know, if New York had to build the subway system today, it couldn’t do it.” I never questioned him on that; all one had to do was take a quick glance at everything around him and see that Chris’s gloomy assessment was in no wise overly pessimistic or cynical, but in fact perfectly accurate.

Again: this was back in the mid-90s, mind. The situation both in NYC and the rest of the “nation” has certainly not improved any since those days.

All Senile Jaux’s angry yelling to the contrary notwithstanding, the EPA “environmental impact” study alone for any such FSK reconstruction project would take five or ten years and hoover up billions of dollars, and that’s before the first girder or I-beam is purchased and put on indefinite back-order while Baltimore waits for it to be shipped from China. Bottom line?

To ask the question is to answer it.

6

UNBELIEVABLE

I haven’t words.

Ship sent ‘mayday’ warning before Baltimore bridge disaster as officials scrambled to halt traffic: ‘Saved lots of lives’
The container ship that smashed into the Francis Scott Key Bridge in Baltimore sent a “mayday” warning that it had lost power before the disaster, officials said Tuesday.

Quick-thinking authorities at the bridge were able to stop cars from crossing the 1.6-mile span, an act that “saved lots of lives,” Maryland Gov. Wes Moore said.

“The ship issued a mayday loss of power. The workers on the bridge halted traffic right before impact. They saved lots of lives,” Moore said at a press conference.

However, six people still remain missing after multiple vehicles plunged into the chilly waters of the Patapsco River as the bridge crumbled, its steel arches and roadway tumbling down.

Horrifying footage shows the bridge collapsing after the Dali, a Singapore-flagged vessel heading to Sri Lanka, crashed into the central part of the structure around 1:40 a.m. shortly after it left the Port of Baltimore.

The ship also caught fire, sending thick, black smoke billowing across the busy harbor.

There’s video, and it’s…unbelievable.


The vid at the NYPost website is bigger,  but offers no option to embed it here, so I went with the above one. I’ve driven/ridden across that very bridge myself only about, oh, eighty-bazillion times. Apparently, there was a construction crew on the bridge doing routine maintenance work at the time, all of whom are now presumably in the water.

I repeat: unbelievable. Even seeing the video footage, it’s tough to wrap the mind around this one. No real indication of terrorism so far, it appears to be just one of those freak accidents that occur once in a blue moon. But these days, who the fuck even knows anymore.

Update! Now, THIS I have no trouble believing at all.

I mighta known, eh?

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1

Squatters rights

“Vigilantes”? Hardly, seems to me.

‘Vigilantes’ try to evict squatters at $1M Queens house after homeowner who confronted them is arrested in tense standoff
A pair of vigilantes allegedly tried to forcefully evict three alleged squatters from a million-dollar Queens home after the homeowner was arrested when she changed the locks and tried to remove them.

Two unidentified men driving a black pickup truck pulled into the driveway of the Flushing home searching for the tenants Tuesday afternoon, according to the Daily Mail.

“We are looking to get this guy out,” one of the men allegedly said, a neighbor told the outlet. “I am here to talk to him. I want to see why he is here.”

Adele Andaloro, 47, was in the process of selling the property when the group shadily took refuge in the home last month.

Andaloro inherited the $1 million property from her parents after they died.

She confronted the trio and changed the locks in hopes they would not be able to re-enter if they left.

However, a male inside the home called the police on Andaloro, who was later arrested.

Neighbors have noticed some concerning activity from the house since the alleged squatters snaked their way into the home.

Residents of tight-knit Queens Street, which many have called home for over 30 years, expressed that they’re ready to do as much as possible to get the alleged intruders out. Some have even floated the idea of starting a petition in hopes that it will help, according to the Daily Mail.

A beloved community member, Andaloro put the two-story home on the market, but that’s when the tenants got in and brazenly replaced the entire front door and locks.

Before her arrest on Feb. 29 — which was captured by ABC’s “Eyewitness News” — Andaloro faced off with the group in a tense standoff.

The police were eventually called and escorted two people off the property. 

With at least three apparent residents still inside, cops told Andaloro she had to sort the saga out in housing court because it was considered a “landlord-tenant issue” before she was arrested.

Utterly, utterly pathetic. Unless and until the nabe gets itself some serious vigilantes willing to adopt measures a bit more forceful than “talking” and petitions, Queens Street will just have to live with their new “neighbors” whether they like it or not.

I lived on the top floor of a five-floor walkup on 13th between 1st and 2nd in Manhattan for a year (ask me how much I love stairs!). In one of the two ground-floor-front apartments was a woman who’d lived there rent-free for over ten years; she had sued the landlord over some piffling dispute or other, and they’d been tangled up in court ever since, resulting in her refusal to pay another dime of rent. She fully expected to continue living there without paying rent indefinitely, and is probably there still.

Artist Joe Coleman lived in the apartment directly under mine; I used to run into him all the time in the stairwells or just sitting out on the front stoop, one of my favorite things to do on my days off work, weather permitting. Old Joe was what used to be politely referred to as “a real character,” had lived in the building for years himself. And Lord, the horror stories he used to tell me about that old building!

I’d never thought much about it until Joe commended it to my attention, but in the quieter watches of the night you’d hear this strange sound as of sand sifting down between and behind the walls—which, according to Joe, is exactly what it was. The plaster was crumbling, the joists and interior timbers eroding, the whole mess slooooowly slip-sliding away into the basement all night and day. There were only three months left on our lease when Joe related this to me; me and the gf decided we would NOT be re-upping.

One night, our power went out during a bad thunderstorm. I grabbed my trusty Maglite and hurried downstairs to see if I could find a breaker to reset or a fuse in need of replacing, wherever the damned box turned out to be; I had no idea about that, all I knew for sure was that there wasn’t one in our apartment. On the ground floor I ran into the building super on his way to the basement, a friendly, avuncular sort who I’d come to know a little, and who seemed quite glad to see me…or my flashlight, more like.

He led me through the basement to the main fuse box, where I replaced three blown fuses with new ones he handed me from his pocket. On our way back out, he pointed out two rows, stacked three high, of plywood cubicles along either side of our path: cramped, stuffy holes containing bedding, items of clothing, miscellaneous unidentifiable bric-a-brac. These cubicles were almost hilariously poorly-built and flimsy-looking, as if they’d been designed and constructed by a little kid using the Fisher-Price Jr Carpentry Set Santy Claus had left under the tree last Christmas.

The odor wafting from this subterranean jungle—stale sweat, dirty linens and/or clothes, unwashed bodies, rotting fruit, human piss—was literally eye-watering.

The super explained to me with a conspiratorial grin what I was looking at: here in this dark, dank 13th St basement were the living quarters for about thirty or forty Chinese illegals, who exchanged a measly rent every Monday for the right to coop a few hours a day in these squalid, nightmarish little rats’ nests, spending the other 18 to 20 hours working in garment-district sweatshops; shared-storage waterfront warehouses or outer-borough factories; Chinatown restaurants, or whatever other sketchy employment an illegal alien could scrounge to bring in coolie wages he could kite to his Honorable Family back home.

I had heard of such arrangements before, of course—what New Yorker hasn’t? Same-same could be found under any number of non-luxury buildings all over the Lower East Side, I knew. Trust me, though, it’s one thing to know intellectually that these things, these people, exist; it’s quite another to see it in front of your very eyes, under your very nose. I was neither naif enough to be shocked, nor jaded enough to just shrug it off and forget about it. In fact, I never have.

Rent control, squatters rights, property owners who are paid more by the city to keep their residential buildings vacant than they could hope to make renting them—NYC’s real estate regulations are a jumbled, incomprehensible maze of payola, corruption, and backscratching that neither tenants, property managers, or owners are at all happy with; that artificially keep rents at insanely-inflated levels; that keep dangerously decrepit buildings in desperate need of repair neglected; and that leave entire city neighborhoods unstable, unprofitable, unaffordable, and unsafe.

1
1

Days that will live in infamy

Both of these bitter anniversaries tremendous losses for America That Was and all who loved her and now lament her death—murder, actually. First up, probably the most outrageous, destructive trampling of liberty in all of US history.

15 Days to Slow the Spread
This story first appeared in 1600 Daily, the White House’s evening newsletter. Subscribe now to get breaking news from President Trump before anyone else.

This afternoon, President Trump and the White House Coronavirus Task Force issued new guidelines to help protect Americans during the global Coronavirus outbreak.

The new recommendations are simple to follow but will have a resounding impact on public health. While the President leads a nationwide response, bringing together government resources and private-sector ingenuity, every American can help slow the virus’ spread and keep our most high-risk populations safe.

Leslie Eastman offers a few salient points.

This is the vital point: The announcement and associated policies were suppose to be about slowing the spread…not stopping it cold. The idea was that the virus’ effects on the respiratory system were so bad, that slowing the spread was imperative to get the medical resources into position so the healthcare system could handle (it).

I would like to note that two weeks earlier, I was growing concerned about the nature of the Trump administration’s response to the virus. I urged the implementation of the severe flu protocol that had been successfully used in years previously. I also highlighted risk factors for severe infection that could only be addressed on an individual basis.

Subsequently, “15 days to Slow the Spread” morphed into a liberty-crushing horror with impacts that we are still feeling across the nation (and in many other parts of the world).

Now, the nation is facing the choice between the two top candidates:

  • Trump, who foisted Dr. Anthony Fauci and Dr. Deborah Birx on this country.
  • Biden: The senile occupant of the Oval Office who mandated the vaccines and prolonged the pandemic response.

Personally, one part of my decision-making will be based on which candidate will not repeat the mistakes in the covid response…and avoid entangling this nation with the World Health Organization’s “Pandemic Treaty“.

I will never forget March 16, 2020.

Nor should you, nor should any of the truly liberty-oriented among us. Next, another costly loss, one which, in its own small way, might almost be considered as badly damaging to Real American prospects as the ScamDemic stampede has been.

Hushed Limbaugh
How did this nation ever get to the point where a man once considered nothing more than a tacky, loud, nouveau-riche liberal NYC real estate mogul/celebrity, with an orange complexion and a crazy pompadour/combover, would be transmogrified into the ultimate scapegoat for the failings, crimes, and corruption that have plagued our government and society since at least the end of the Second World War; the locus and symbol of the most unbridled hatred by the very same global elite that, in point of fact, are guilty of those sins and that he once perhaps was a part of? If I had to venture a guess, I’d say in nearly the same manner as “just some guy in golf pants” (as he once described how the elites tagged him) who at one time happened to have the largest sustained radio audience in history.

Last week marked the third anniversary of Rush Limbaugh passing away after a yearlong battle with terminal lung cancer. In a career that spanned nearly a third of a century, Limbaugh become far and away the most listened-to talk radio host in broadcast history. The conventional wisdom, which is something that Limbaugh defied on a daily basis, was that he had some sort of Svengali-like appeal over masses of mostly white, male, Bible-thumping bumpkins from flyover country by telling them what to think. In point of fact, it was just the opposite. Limbaugh’s success was being able to articulate what a vast swathe of the nation felt—a well-founded angst about the direction of the country especially since the beginning of the Clinton years and for sure with everything in the wake of the 9/11/01 attacks.

Last week marked the third anniversary of Rush Limbaugh passing away after a yearlong battle with terminal lung cancer. In a career that spanned nearly a third of a century, Limbaugh become far and away the most listened-to talk radio host in broadcast history. The conventional wisdom, which is something that Limbaugh defied on a daily basis, was that he had some sort of Svengali-like appeal over masses of mostly white, male, Bible-thumping bumpkins from flyover country by telling them what to think. In point of fact, it was just the opposite. Limbaugh’s success was being able to articulate what a vast swathe of the nation felt—a well-founded angst about the direction of the country especially since the beginning of the Clinton years and for sure with everything in the wake of the 9/11/01 attacks.

He, more than any other political and cultural leader, held both a moral high ground and most crucially a bully pulpit that gave voice to a true silent majority. In examining the life and times of Limbaugh, as well as the gigantic sword of Damocles above Donald Trump’s head, and collectively whatever is left of the United States as we knew or imagined it, a bit of reflection on how we got here, or to coin a phrase, how we—or at least I—got “woke” to the world as it is, is in order.

Although he passed just as the three years-plus FauxVid dumpster fire was really starting to blaze, Limbaugh was astute enough to see what was coming well beforehand.

I’m watching this coronavirus thing, and even the media that you would think would be on whatever we would call “our side,” they’ve lost it too. To them, this is nothing more than a story, and they can’t wait. I mean, everybody is waiting for the next worst headline, the next worst scenario, the next worst possibility. They can’t wait for it and they can’t wait to report it, and they can’t wait to talk about it. And that’s not me.

I resent this. I could never be a journalist. And these people, they’re a pack now. And I don’t care what network you’re talking about or website—there might be some exceptions to websites. Can’t read ’em all, don’t know. But you can’t turn on TV without seeing the same thing on any network. It doesn’t matter what network it is during the news coverage portion. Not so much the opinion programs and prime time. But the news coverage portion.

I mean, it’s now conventional wisdom that the country’s gonna shut down. It’s conventional wisdom that 150 million people are gonna get infected. It’s conventional wisdom that this is deadly, it’s the worst thing that’s ever happened, oh my God. It’s horrible. It’s worse. And nobody’s ever had it as bad or worse. And everybody gets caught up in it. As I watch the media, I don’t see one doubting Thomas. I don’t know how you do that.

JJ notes well the date of this tragically prescient analysis.

That was on March 13, 2020, literally just as the ChiCom/Anthony Fauci-created COVID-19 was just starting to swamp us. Or as Limbaugh seems to have clearly understood, the artificially generated fear of it. We now know, or at least we should know, that it was all one massive lie; from its origins, to its lethality, to the at-best uselessness to at-worst lethality of the vaccines. Yet anyone who back then stepped up and claimed the mantle of a “doubting Thomas” faced destruction.

America, the land of the First Amendment, has now openly toyed with the notion of “Disinformation Governance Boards,” a fancy name for what is essentially a Ministry of Truth. Universities that were supposed to be bastions of the free exchange of diverse viewpoints now silence anyone and anything even a micrometer to the right of Leon Trotsky. Our government is working hand in hand with Big Tech to have them act as censors for ideas, opinions, and facts that run contra to the narrative that they are putting out as truth, to be accepted blindly and unquestioningly without examination or critical review.

The only reason this is happening is because they no longer have a monopoly on the dissemination of information. Lacking that, as everything they have done to this country that has utterly collapsed our economy, erased our border, endangered our citizens at home, and threatened our national security abroad nearly to the point of a global conflict, the junta has no compunction about completely ignoring even the most basic red lines of ethics, morality, and the rule of law to silence all critique and squash all political opposition.

It’s academic as to whether or not we would have come to this point without the coming of alternative media to question the narrative, or what Limbaugh described as “the daily soap opera.” If nothing else, the mere presence of Rush Limbaugh and then Donald Trump has forced the junta to reveal itself for what it is, not for what their erstwhile media gatekeepers used to be able to bamboozle the public with ease. Trump’s greatest achievement as president isn’t actually what he achieved policy-wise (and they were some of the most incredible achievements ever); it was his mere presence as an oppositional force to the hypocrisy and corruption of the past eighty years that caused the masks and illusions of an America that no longer exists to drop. And there couldn’t have been a Donald Trump without a Rush Limbaugh to pave the way.

Mega dittos owed and mega dittos given.

Indeed so, with whipped cream and a cherry on top. May Rush Limbaugh forever rest in peace, much though it must pain him to look down from Heaven upon all that’s transpired since he departed this Earthly plane. Although I admittedly had problems with him over the years—enough so that by the time he died I’d long since stopped listening to him altogether, out of sheer frustration—it’s to our incalculable detriment that we shan’t ever see his like again.

Update! The Panic, and the damage done.

Four years ago, Las Vegas’ casinos shut down for 78 days. The fallout was brutal
About a month after casinos in Macao were closed for 15 days to slow COVID’s spread, then-Gov. Steve Sisolak on March 17, 2020 ordered all casinos as well as restaurants, bars and other nonessential businesses in the state to close for 30 days.

Brendan Bussmann, a gaming industry analyst with Las Vegas-based B Global, recalled the dark start of the shutdown.

“I still remember driving the Strip the next morning and there was nobody there and it either looked like we were occupied or that a bomb had gone off,” he said.

As a result of the 78-day closure, the Nevada Gaming Control Board estimated Nevada’s 219 major casinos lost $6.2 billion, a 25.2 percent decline from revenue generated a year earlier.

An estimated 26,140 people from a workforce of 162,066 lost their jobs and the unemployment rate soared to 33.4 percent. With demand for travel to Las Vegas lost, airlines canceled hundreds of flights.

As Ed quips, the operative words here might be—should be, in fact MUST be—THEN-Governor. Or, as a Fremen oath from Frank Herbert’s sprawling sci-fi epic Dune has it: Never to forgive. Never to forget. Damned skippy.

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