GIVE TIL IT HURTS!

It’s…it’s…it’s…YELLOW!

Yellow Blaze Metallic, to be precise—a custom-order Ford color available only, best I can determine, for like one (1) model year. That’s the color sported by my pride and joy, my li’l baby doll: my precious 2012 Ford Focus SEL, which jewel o’ my heart has been sitting dead as the nails in Vincent Price’s coffin at my lifelong friend and musical partner in crime Brack’s place since its timing chain shit the bed a few years back. As of yesterday morning, thanks to Brack’s brother Stan, my poor neglected baby has come home at last.

FocusBackHome 1.

Don’t she look purty, even after sitting all forlorn out in the weather, dust, and pollen for 4-5 years? Lots to do yet to atone for my heartless abandonment of her, which project I will be certainly be getting started on right away, me and whatever friends I can get down here to lend a hand. But, to paraphrase Scarlett O’Hara, as God is my witness, she’ll never be lonely again!!

Apart from the occasional Focus update, expect blogging to suffer accordingly, natch.

Muzzietown, TX: threat, or menace?

The slow, steady takeover everybody swore “could never happen here” continues apace. Thankfully, Greg Abbott seems committed to thwarting it.

Jihad, Texas Style
The Lone Star State braces for a new “Muslim community.”

It’s happened all over Western Europe. In Amsterdam, several neighborhoods, including the Oud-West, De Pijp, and De Baarsjes, are now heavily Muslim. So are Molenbeek, a Brussels suburb, and Gruddalen, the vast valley that forms much of the eastern half of Oslo. Four out of ten people in Tower Hamlets, London, are Muslims, as is nearly thirty-five percent of the population of Luton. Several of the banlieues, or suburbs, of Paris are no-go zones; Marseille is about one-third Islam. The Rinkeby district of Stockholm is heavily Muslim, as are parts of Malmö, not to mention the Nørrebro neighborhood of Copenhagen.

Yes, there are non-Muslim residents in these neighborhoods, but their numbers are steadily dwindling. They live in an ever-intensifying state of siege. It’s dangerous for them to come home at night. At school, their sons are beaten up and their daughters are sexually harassed. Every day, they’re reminded who’s in charge, and it’s definitely not them. More than many other people in Europe, they can see the continent’s future very clearly. Needless to say, it’s an Islamic future.

Which, obviously, is the reason those non-Moslem (former) residents’ numbers are “steadily dwindling.” Unfortunately, this ain’t the kind of problem from which one can just run away forever. Regardless of how fast, how far, or how long you run, the menacing Moslem hordes will catch up with you ere the end. The lesson here is stark, and likewise altogether obvious. Too bad, then, that most of Western Civ is so mulishly determined to ignore it. Such wilfull obliviousness will cost the West dearly at some point, probably sooner than later, and paying up is going to hurt.

Which is why we should all be worried about EPIC City, Texas. I’d never heard of it until just a few weeks ago. Since then, I’ve heard about it again and again. Maybe the word hasn’t gotten to you yet. If not, here you go. EPIC City, according to an April 3 report by Caroline Vandergriff of CBS News, is a proposed “Muslim community” that is a project of the East Plano Islamic Center (hence the name EPIC) in partnership with a real-estate firm called Community Capital Partners. The plan is to construct “a thousand homes, a mosque, apartments, a school and more” on 402 acres in Collin and Hunt counties near the town of Josephine, about an hour northeast of Dallas.

Since the initiative was announced last year, the leaders of the Islamic Center have hired Dan Cogdell, a leading Houston lawyer, “to help them navigate multiple state investigations” that were ordered by Governor Greg Abbott. In reaction to Abbott’s criticism of the EPIC City venture, Cogdell told Vandergraff that his clients “aren’t foreign adversaries” but “Texans.” “Americans.” “United States citizens.” And their only goal, he contended, “is to build a community that allows them to live together with people who value family and faith.”

Yes, that’s what they want to do – but it’s not all that they want to do. They want to do Molenbeek and Tower Hamlets and Groruddalen one better. They want the total Muslim experience: no kafirun (infidels) with their uncovered wives and daughters and haram puppy dogs. If you wanted to defend EPIC City, you might point to the way in which the Amish settled Lancaster, Pennsylvania, or the Mormons’ establishment of Utah. But neither the Amish nor the Mormons have a doctrine of jihadist conquest. They aren’t instructed to despise non-believers or throw homosexuals from rooftops. Their sexual politics may be old-fashioned, but they’re light-years more advanced than Islam’s.

At least one Texan realizes this. In addition to ordering investigations into the shadowy characters involved in the EPIC City venture, Abbott has demanded a construction halt, but has been ignored. Dismissing Abbott’s expressed concern about the possible imposition of sharia law in EPIC City, Cogdell told Vandergraff: “No one associated with that community follows sharia law or is in favor of sharia law.” Nonsense. One survey of Western Muslims after another has shown that an unsettling majority of them want to live under sharia law – and expect to be living under it before too long. The goal of broadening the ambit of sharia law, after all, is a major reason why millions of Muslims moved from their native lands to the West in the first place. It’s called expanding the umma. It’s called turning the Dar al Harb (House of War) into the Dar as Islam (House of Islam), one block at a time. And lying about it to infidels is called taqiyya.

Which last, according to the Koran (yes, I HAVE read it; more than once, actually), is not only pardonable but strongly, explicitly recommended. In fact, in practical terms it’s obligatory, a directive issued from the very mouth of Allah His Own Bad Self—never to be contradicted, never to be questioned, only to be reflexively, mindlessly obeyed, just as the Religion of Peace Submission demands of the pig-ignorant 10th-century throwbacks who hew to it.

Which just goes to show how much even rural Texans need to learn about Islam. Well, if the EPIC City initiative isn’t stopped in its tracks, they’ll be learning a great deal about it soon enough.

They most certainly will at that—more than they ever wanted to, to their everlasting sorrow and regret. You’d think they’d know better by now—you’d think we ALL would. And yet.

All this après-9/11/01 stuff and nonsense, mind, deep in the heart of the once-great Republic ofTEXAS, of all unlikely places? The sovereign State a great many of us ReichWingNaziDeathBeast types looked to as our last-ditch refuge when the fecal matter finally impacts the rotary impeller everyplace else? Jeez O PETE, man! That just might be the toughest, most bitter-tasting aspect of this ginormous shit-circus to wrap one’s head around.

For so long, so many of us have found it comforting to think of good ol’ Texizz as the last bastion of traditional American sanity, civic mores, and freedom—that, despite the slow, sinister purpling of major Texas cities like Dallas, Austin, Houston, and others, Real American Normals would always have Texas, come Hell or high water. Wouldn’t we? Of COURSE we would! Why, some of us even went so far as to buy great big ol’ belt buckles, Stetson hats, and uncomfortable, exorbitantly expensive cockroach-stomper boots to ready ourselves for the frabjous day we’d at last make that Last Big Move South’ards.

And then some shit like this happens.

Read the whole thing, I implore you. It’s about as disquieting a piece as I ever have seen, anyplace, at any time, on any topic. Uncomfortable reading though it surely is, it tells us that it is now imperative that the last remaining illusions be shattered, that the last remaining veils be lifted from the eyes which stubbornly refuse to look upon the situation as it really, truly exists: clearly, unblinkingly, honestly. If nothing else, we owe that much (at least!) to ourselves, to our Founding Fathers, to our posterity.

As for this sellout asshole Cogdell and his fellow slimery, slithery creatures who support this mind-boggling obscenity, every man Jack of them ought to be summarily strung up for high treason. Unless somebody out there comes up with something even worse to do to his/their sorry ass(es) in the interim, that is. I’m thinking something agonizing; permanently scarring both mentally and bodily; life-altering in the most negative way imaginable; profoundly, unforgettably humiliating; and, eventually—after interminable years of suffering so wrackingly intense that very few Normals who’ve never had to cope with…

  • A thunderous, all-day artillery barrage—no pause, no let-up, no lunch break, just honkin’ big shells that continuously droppeth as the gentle rain from Heaven
  • A deep-jungle ambush set by a dedicated, skilled enemy which hopelessly, lopsidedly outnumbers him
  • A furiously chaotic company-level engagement at eyeball-to-eyeball range
  • Having a ship torpedoed, holed, and sunk out from under his very feet in a North Atlantic January
  • Saturation bombing from extreme-high altitude
  • Sniper fire from multiple positions, all undeterminable
  • Stomach cancer
  • Anaesthetic-free amateur dentistry

…could believe it was even possible—fatal.

Update! Apropos of nothing much a-tall, I just had to note that weird spelling, kafirun, from the excerpt. In all my many years of studying up on Mooselimbs and the Islamic pseudo-religion—beginning way back in college with two (2) semesters of Comparative Religion I took for no better reason than A) I found the subject interesting and B) I was a huge fan of the professor, who was an affable nut—I never did run across that one before. The more familiar-to-me rendition is kuffir, or khufir, or something else along roughly similar lines. Translation can often be a tricky thing, particularly from Arabic languages (as with Chinese, Greek, and Cyrillic, it’s a whole ’nother alphabet entirely, not even slightly congruent with English) but this’s a new one on me for sure.

Mal’s Soliloquy

Brilliant speech, from a truly brilliant movie.

 

Transcription of the critical passage.

This report is maybe 12 years old. Parliament buried it, and it stayed buried ’til River dug it up.

This is what they feared she knew. And they were right to fear ’cause there’s a whole universe of folk who’re gonna know it, too. They’re gonna see it.

Somebody has to speak for these people.

Y’all got on this boat for different reasons, but y’all come to the same place. So now I’m askin’ more of you than I have before. Maybe all.

As sure as I know anything, I know this: They will try again. Maybe on another world. Maybe on this very ground swept clean. A year from now, 10, they’ll swing back to the belief that they can make people…better. And I do not hold to that.

So no more runnin’.

I aim to misbehave.

Scariest, most disturbing bit in bold (mine, natch), which sounds altogether too familiar nowadays. Then again, the entire thing does, when you think about it. It isn’t prophetic or foresighted so much as it is simply observational—a tidy, concise summation of the liberal mindset, that’s all. Even scarier yet? The Firefly/Serenity saga is set in the early 26th century. Guess with shitlibs, certain things really ARE eternal, and/or immutable.

Firefly; Serenity; CAPT Malcolm Reynolds; the rest of the intrepid Firefly crew; the marvelously quirky, ear-catching dialogue (always struck me as pretty dang cool, how the Mother Tongue changed and evolved betwixt now and 2516; my first round of watching the TV show on DVD, I found myself needing to pay closer-than-usual attention when the characters were speaking or it would get by me altogether); the freewheeling philosophy of uncompromising liberty, independence, and individual self-determination which underpins the whole kit and kaboodle—all born of the creative genius, febrile mind, and artistic vision of Joss Whedon. The show and the movie both are bona fide gems: a stunning achievement of writing, casting, acting, SFX, and staging that would do even the most high-minded, talented dramatist proud indeed.

So can someone explain to me, then, just how it is that Whedon is nevertheless such a dyed in the wool, conventional-thinking liberal, please? Because quite frankly, I’m having big, big trouble getting that math to add up. I gotta confess I’ve always stunk out loud at math, so could be it’s just me, I dunno.

In any event, I mean, seriously now, you guys: the passage in bold above, and the standard-issue, Mark 1-Mod 0 Left/liberal flapdoodle approvingly, even mawkishly, cited at the above-linked Mother Jones (*shudder*) article/interview/fellatio-rama—all coming out of the SAME FUCKING MOUTH? RILLY?!?

I just don’t get it. Not all that sure I want to, to be perfectly honest. Greatly to his credit and in marked contrast with the dismal example set by his peers, Whedon doesn’t for a single second allow his mundane, wet-brained political beliefs to impinge on the Firefly and Serenity viewing experience. One can kick back, relax, and immerse oneself completely in the thrills, chills, and pleasures of the Firefly universe without ever once having to dread that you’re gonna be preached to at some point.

This, even though the character of preacherman Shepherd Book provides Whedon with what might easily be considered a purpose-built opportunity to ascend the pulpit and start in sermonizing. But no, nothing of the sort. Book spends most of his onscreen time questioning himself and his own wobble-legged faith rather than hectoring others about their own, although he does offer spiritual and/or moral advice to anyone who ask for such—carefully, thoughtfully, without passing judgment or scorning the foibles of his shipmates. Humble, questing, open-hearted, warm, a people-person if ever there was one—I always felt that Shepherd Book was one of the most appealing, engaging, and intriguing characters in a cast absolutely chock-full of ‘em.

So hats off to Joss Whedon for leashing the near-universal liberal bent towards proselytizing, if nothing else. As a professed congregant of the Left/liberal/Progressivist flock with a worldwide audience that’s bigger than most, rejecting such a powerful temptation must have been almost physically painful.

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Forget, hell!

Unreconstructed Southron Baron Bodissey reports—with pitchers—on the ceremony commemorating the anniversary of the Appomattox tragedy/disaster.

Appomattox: Lest We Forget
This afternoon I attended a ceremony marking the 160th anniversary of the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia (which I often sardonically refer to as “the Confederate Nakba”). It was organized by the Appomattox chapter of the United Daughters of the Confederacy, and took place at the Confederate Cemetery in the Appomattox Court House National Historical Park. The cemetery itself is on a plot of land that isn’t part of the historical park, and is owned by the UDC rather than the federal government. As a result, at that location we unreconstructed Confederates can engage in our customary activities without being busted for hate speech or otherwise interfered with.

The occasion began with a prayer. We then pledged allegiance to all three flags: the US flag, the Virginia flag, and the Confederate battle flag. Yes, I know some of those pledges are mutually exclusive, but nobody seems to care.

Speak for yourself on that one, young feller. Anyhoo. Onwards.

Following that there were a few brief speeches, several songs, and some reading of poetry. UDC members in widow’s weeds placed a rose by each grave, and two little girls set up battle flags next to each headstone. There are nineteen soldiers buried in the cemetery, all but seven of them unknown, including a solitary Union soldier (who got the Stars and Stripes next to his headstone).

Fuckin’ bluebellied Yankee sumbitch. Anyhoo. Onwards.

Then a number of wreaths were presented and placed next to the memorial stone by representatives of the groups that donated them, mostly chapters of the UDC or camps of the Sons of Confederate Veterans (SCV). Not all of the groups were local: one of the SCV camps that presented a wreath was based in Honolulu, Hawaii.

All in all, it was an excellent occasion. It was a reminder — at least for me — that the Confederate battle flag is not about slavery or tariffs or even states’ rights, but rather a symbol of resistance to tyranny, and a reminder that Virginia was invaded and devastated by an alien army.

Deo Vindice!

That penultimate paragraph pretty much says it all, far as I’m concerned.

Hey, Nutflix, leave Aslan alone!

My God, there really isn’t anything whatsoever they won’t stand on its head and try to make a traveshamockery out of, is there?

Through a Wardrobe Dimly: Netflix’s Narnia Reboot
So last week, the word was out that Netflix is playing host to a reboot of “The Chronicles of Narnia.” On top of that, talks are apparently in the works to have none other than Meryl Streep voice Aslan. Yes, they are coming for Narnia in the same way they came for “Star Wars” and “The Lord of the Rings.” A galaxy far, far, away is not safe, nor is Middle Earth; why should Narnia be sacrosanct?

 Deadline reports:

In the novels, Aslan is a talking lion who serves as Narnia’s guardian and a guide for the human children. Generally portrayed as a male, Aslan was created as an allegory for Jesus by author C.S. Lewis.

However, in “The Chronicles of Narnia,” Aslan is not merely an allegory for Christ. Lewis was quite clear that Aslan was Christ as he would have manifested himself to the inhabitants of Narnia. The biblical parallels are unavoidable with a respectful and thoughtful reading of the books, as they were meant to be. 

To wit: in “The Voyage of the Dawn Treader,” we have this quote, “I am [in your world].’ said Aslan. ‘But there, I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”

It is plausible that the producers of the reboot see Aslan as nothing more than an interesting main character in a fantasy series and thus have no compunctions about playing fast and loose with his gender. It is equally plausible (and altogether likely) that the producers are well aware of the intentional Christianity of the Narnia series and Aslan’s true identity and have taken it upon themselves to decolonize, deconstruct, and reassemble Narnia into something less Christian and more to their liking. Rebooting Aslan is another clandestine attempt at rebooting Christ. 

As Fate would have it, I’ve recently been re-reading The Chronicles of Narnia for the umpty-leventh time, and enjoying Lewis’ inspired magnum opus trememdously; it’s been too many years since I last checked in on Polly, Diggory, wicked Uncle Andrew, King Peter, Queen Susan, Prince Caspian, Mr Tumnus, and the rest of the gang. Frankly, the only thing I find at all surprising about Nutflix’s latest attempt to shit in its own hat is that they didn’t go out and find themselves a Neegrow lesbian Transgender of Color rather than moldy-oldy White-bread broad Streep to voice Aslan, so as to offend, dismay, and just plain piss off as many Xtianist, binary, sane Normals as humanly possible.

Trump’s got yer pronouns

Swingin’, mothafuckizz.

White House Uses Reporters’ Pronouns, Just Not the Way They Intended
There’s something deeply satisfying about watching the left’s cherished ideological markers being used against them. White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt is giving the mainstream media a taste of their own medicine, and it’s absolutely glorious.

In a delicious development, the Trump White House press office is flat-out refusing to respond to reporters who display their pronouns in email signatures. 

Heck, yes. I love it.

As do I. But the alluring Ms Leavitt has her reasons, and as you’d expect they’re well-thought out, logical, and eminently reasonable.

This isn’t just some arbitrary policy. It’s a brilliant statement about truth and reality in journalism.

When confronted about this practice, Leavitt delivered a devastating response: “Any reporter who chooses to put their preferred pronouns in their bio clearly does not care about biological reality or truth and therefore cannot be trusted to write an honest story.”

Fact check: True.

Indeed so. In fact, I’d go a bit further than that: “Any reporter who chooses to put their preferred pronouns in their bio” clearly is a fanatical ideological enemy of this President, his adminstration, the American people, and the United States of America itself. That being so (and it is), who gives a fat rat’s ass what such a one thinks—about anything at all? Ever?

A REAL stinker

Hey, there’s a reason I’ve been calling the disgusting toad “Jabba the Senator” for quite a few years now. But even so, I had no idea, really.

This was posted today on freebeacon.com – Longtime New York congressman Jerry Nadler has become famous as a champion of progressive policies in the House of Representatives. But among his colleagues in the chamber, he has also earned the dubious distinction of being its smelliest member.

“He’s the kind of guy who when he makes his way onto the floor he barrels through everyone, and sometime he doesn’t really need to barrel through because his stench kind of clears the way and it equates to his personality, which is nasty and most people want to keep away from,” said Anthony D’Esposito, a former GOP congressman from Long Island recently named inspector general of the Department of Labor.

A half dozen of Nadler’s current and former colleagues—on both sides of the aisle—were even more savage behind the scenes, pooh-poohing the New York liberal. One House Democrat said he wasn’t just rancid but also frequently out of it.    

“Members of Congress don’t want to sit next to him because of it,” the House Democrat told the Washington Free Beacon. “Yeah, he smells. I don’t know what he does. Maybe he doesn’t take a bath, I don’t know what it is.”

Ah, but I do. And so do you, if we’re being honest here.

Austin clawback underway?

P’raps possibly, yeah. T’is a consummation devoutly to be wished for what was once a helluva fun Texas town.

Austin started to lose population in 2023, as the crush of exhausted citizens fleeing the “blue dot in a red state” started to exceed the number of incoming settlers. It wasn’t a huge number, just 2,500 net out-migration that year, but it was still significant in that the net incoming tide of people had been reversed.

While news of Austin losing population was shocking at the time, the trend has continued to accelerate. There was a net loss of 13,400 people in 2024.

With residents fleeing, there is a glut of houses for sale, and prices are plunging as the real estate bubble bursts. This is also deflating prices on homes in the surrounding suburban and exurban counties.

To the tune of ~20% or so in some places. Too bad, so sad. Onwards.

It is my hope that some of the depopulation is because of blue state colonizers returning to their natural coastal habitats, thus leaving Texas a little bit redder overall. Of course, there is also a steady exodus of regular people from Austin – those who just can’t take it anymore. From personal experience, I know that it is a goal of many normies to leave the oppressive and theocratically woke eco-leftism of Austin, as well as the social disorder it has wrought. My wife and I were among them.

Back when Austin was simply weird, it was a delightful melting pot of politicos, educators, hippies, rednecks, musicians, and regular suburban Texans. Music bound those groups together. I can attest that I spent a lot of evenings in my younger days at joints like the Broken Spoke, Continental Cafe, and Green Mesquite, catching great new acts, some of whom went on to significant success.

Unfortunately, Austin has also been pretty effective in killing off its legendary music scene. Apparently, tech bros and AWFLs just don’t foster a music scene the same way that hippies and rednecks once did, and now even the legendary SXSW Festival is largely ditching the music aspect that got the whole thing going.

You can never go home again, but I’ll always enjoy that musical legacy. Which reminds me, I probably need to put some Rusty Wier or Jerry Jeff on my stereo bluetooth, it’s been too long.

Jerry Jeff Walker, Rusty Weir? No offense, but screw that noise, buster. You want a true taste of the good old Austin music scene, now sadly defunct, ain’t but one place you really need to look for it.

Gott DAMN, man: Jimmy Vaughan, Preston Hubbard, Fran Christina, the inimitable Kim Wilson? Texas blues just don’t come no more Texas blusier than that right there.

I was privileged enough to have the great Kim Wilson autograph not just one but TWO (2) of my beater-classic Ford dashboards after we opened for the Fab T-birds, the 61 Galaxy and, later on, the 67 Fairlane. Should be pics around here someplace or other, but damned if I’m gonna go digging around on this hard drive to find ‘em right now. Enjoy another T-birds clip as compensation.

Justice, DONE

Aww, that’s a doggone shame.

BREAKING: Greenpeace Loses Dakota Access Pipeline Trial, Faces Bankruptcy and Extinction
In 2016 and 2017, the left vented its shock and fury at Donald Trump’s unexpected victory by, among other things, protesting the construction of an oil pipeline in North Dakota. The “mainstream” media claimed that Energy Transfer was ramming its Dakota Access Pipeline (DAPL) through all sorts of sacred Native American lands and that no one wanted it.

n fact, Energy Transfer went out of its way to work with natives and locals, and most were glad of the opportunity and prosperity DAPL would provide. Nonetheless, environmentalist activists co-opted a protest by the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, making it into the face of the spurious claims. Professional protestors from near and far got into the act, throwing sand into the project’s gears at the construction site, at funding sources, and in the PR sphere. In the end, these actions delayed the project by five months and added approximately $350 million to the cost, Energy Transfer claimed in a lawsuit it launched in 2019. 

Energy Transfer named three Greenpeace entities — Greenpeace USA, Greenpeace International (based in the Netherlands), and Greenpeace Fund — as the organizers and funders of this sabotage. And on Wednesday, a North Dakota jury found that the infamous non-profit must pay the price for its actions.

The jury found in favor of the plaintiff on almost all counts, ruling that Greenpeace must pay hundreds of millions of dollars in damages. The loss is expected to bankrupt the half-century-old environmentalist nuisance organization.

There will doubtlessly be an appeal — Greenpeace’s Senior Legal Adviser, Deepa Padmanabha, said, “We know that this fight is not over.” But at any rate, this is a great day for Americans and people everywhere who are sick to death of environmentalists, BLM, and other disruptive, violent, and destructive Marxist mobs upending their lives under the guise of the right to protest. 

Join me as I raise a glass to Energy Transfer and DAPL — Bravo!

Yes indeedy. Also, encore!

1

UNEXPECTED! ™

Gee, what a shocker: Professional shitlib “male feminist” turns out to to be sicko stalker.

So Another Male Feminist Turns Out to Be a Social Media Perv
Give some credit to young Democrat hustle(r) Harry Sisson, reluctant as you may be, for turning some small amount of social media savvy into a lucrative career as a progressive influencer — not to mention all those sweet young ladies that the 23-year-old professional Democrat has reportedly tried to con into sending him their most intimate photos of themselves.

Sisson likes to play a male feminist on social media, you’ll be shocked to learn.

“America failed women tonight,” Sisson posted to X after Donald Trump won reelection last November. “Trump bullied, assaulted, and stripped reproductive rights away from women all across the country, and instead of standing up, we let it happen.”

That’s the kind of “insight” Sisson regularly posts that has somehow amassed him 1.7 million TikTok followers and nearly 300,000 on X.

Sisson seems to have enjoyed a childhood of privilege — he spent parts of his early life in Dubai and Dublin before settling down in the U.S. at 17 — but the identity and occupation of his parents seem to be unavailable. Nevertheless, his net worth is estimated at anywhere from $800,000 to $8.5 million. Even the low end would be impressive for someone who has yet to hit the quarter-century mark and who doesn’t seem to have ever produced a good or service in the private sector.

Exactly what he does aside from attending New York University and posting on social media I can’t tell.

Oh, yeah — he also creeps on women while playing the male feminist.

There’s nothing new about young men of means trying to bed various women, and there has never been a lack of women willing to bed young men of means. Human nature is what it is. But doing so while posing as a noble defender of women’s rights is too hypocritical to let pass.

A few important things for these women to remember here: 1) at some point, those photos are going to end up splashed all across the am-pr0n Intarwebs, a near-inevitability that even Sisson himself will be powerless to prevent; and 2) as all the cool kids say, Teh Intarwebs is forever—which means your XXX twat-shots (“private”? It is to laugh) on PornHub and such-like sites ain’t ever going away. Which in turn means that yes, your kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids, if any, will be just one (1) easy-peasy Google, Duck Duck Go, or Luxxle search away from running across them some fine day.

Sorry, ladies, but no amount of weeping, wailing, and/or gnashing of teeth is going to change any of the above. Have a nice day.

(Via Steve Green)

Update! Ace notes an amusing aspect:

The surprising thing isn’t that a male liberal influencer is a pervert and user.

What’s shocking here is that Harry (S)isson is… straight? Sort of?!

A real stunner of a surprise of a jaw-dropper, I agree.

Updated update! Just noticed another amusing aspect. To wit:

“America failed women tonight,” Sisson posted to X after Donald Trump won reelection last November. “Trump bullied, assaulted, and stripped reproductive rights away from women all across the country, and instead of standing up, we let it happen.”

Don’t know if you’d call the bit I boldfaced a misnomer or an oxymoron or just what, but I has questions. For one thing, slaughtering your gestating infant “women’s health care” is NOT any kind of right. For another, how can it be “reproductive” when the whole point of the exercise is to avoid reproducing? I know, I know, I need to try harder to keep up with shitlib Doublespeak, linguistic inversions, and wilfull reversal of the meanings and definitions of plain, ordinary words. But still.

Truly, truly pathetic

I downloaded a vid intending to upload it to my WP Media Library, then embed it here, but no dice; the Media Library file size limit is a paltry 2 megs, but the video in question clocks in at 4.1, thereby breaking the bank, so to speak. In any event, you very much need to head on over to Phil’s place and watch it, it’s mind-blowing. To quote my own comment over at Bustednuckles:

Whiny little baglapper. The problem with sniveling douchetools like this is that their cities have never been bombed, they have never been seriously hungry, cold, or afraid, and they were never spanked as children.

It’s that last item that’s most pertinent of all, IMHO. I also enjoyed Phil’s recommendations:

I would Rattle Can my old truck Green, Rattle Can the Sprite British Racing Green, (even though I hate that fucking color) paint the fucking sidewalk green and find a used John Deere riding lawn mower again just to fuck with this pretentious asshole.

I’m betting a guy could find some green Mylar window covers if he looked hard enough too.

This fucker would melt down in the middle of the street before he even got close to my front door before I was done.

A fuggin’ MEN, Phil. Alternatively, you could always just punch the whinging dorksnort right in the fucking mouth. Once he’s on the ground, kick his ribs and upper torso area until he’s helpless to do anything other than lie there and quack like a duck. Lather, rinse, repeat, each and every time he so much as looked like he was about to set foot in your yard or driveway.

Good reads

Apropos of not much, really, I just wanted to mention Tactical Hermit’s brief summation of the fire-bombings of Dresden and Tokyo towards the end of WW2, both events the impetus of a great deal of Allied angst and self-recrimination even today. Doubtless historians, scholars, and pundits will be arguing the same unanswerable questions from now until Doomsday: Were the bombings ineffectual, perhaps even pointless and unnecessary? Can we ever truly know if they hastened the final collapse of Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan by so much as a single minute? Should they be thought of as simply part and parcel of modern warfare, albeit profoundly regrettable? Or were they in fact atrocities, crimes against humanity perpetrated by unfeeling monsters against blameless civilians?

The reason I bring all this up tonight is nothing so weighty as all that, thank merciful Heaven. See, it just so happens that, thanks to Amazon’s Kindle Unlimited, I have on my sail foam a seriously gripping historical-fiction novel in ePub format titled The Air Raid Killer (Max Heller, Dresden Detective Book 1). It’s one hell of a page-turner, as author Frank Goldammer’s Detective Heller doggedly pursues a mad, quasi-human serial killer through the dead, burned-out streets of once-beautiful Dresden just before, during, and after the city’s immolation and utter destruction by several thousand RAF/USAAF HE and incendiary bombs.

Steve Anderson’s translation is absolutely flawless—not often the case with ePubs, alas. In the usual run of things, the editing and/or conversion from dead tree to ePub is so godawful it can be an active nuisance, yanking you right up out of the story by your ears to leave you staring blankly at the nearest wall. You can but shake your head in sorrow, anger, and confusion, hoping against hope that whoever committed this heinous crime against lit’ratchure wasn’t getting paid for the job. Oughta be in jail, more like.

Didn’t realize it until just now, but there’s a sequel to ARK. Yclept A Thousand Devils, Book 2 features Max Heller plying his trade in the same locality two (2) years after his hometown’s nightmarish destruction. Gonna have to add that ‘un to the ol’ KU library toot sweet and give it a look-see, soonest.

Problem, meet solution

Ah, the wondrous possibilities fairly well leap from the page, wildly waving their arms and demanding attention.

Watch: Drag Queens Surround the Kennedy Center in Protest of Trump’s Takeover
Hundreds of protesters — many of them clad in big wigs, makeup, and lots of leather — descended on the Kennedy Center on Saturday as part of a “Rally & March for Drag.” It was the latest in a series of protests in response to President Donald Trump’s ban on Kennedy Center drag productions, many of them aimed at LGBTQ+ youth under 18.

“This president is demonizing a marginalized community in order to control the arts in America. It’s shameful, immoral, and weak,” drag artist Tara Hoot told The Advocate before the event. “At a time when our artists and LGBTQ+ communities are under attack more than ever, we need to show up and speak up against this fascist takeover of the arts.”

Last month, President Trump ousted Joe Biden-appointed board members and named U.S. envoy Richard Grenell the organization’s chairman.

“Just last year, the Kennedy Center featured Drag Shows specifically targeting our youth — THIS WILL STOP,” Trump wrote on Truth Social on February 7. “The Kennedy Center is an American Jewel, and must reflect the brightest STARS on its stage from all across our Nation. For the Kennedy Center, THE BEST IS YET TO COME!”

How very disappointing, that I have yet to see even one daring soul suggest rounding up all the annoying, tucked-peenie protesters, sealing them up inside a cargo bay of one of Elon’s Falcon 9 rockets, and launching them directly into the Sun forthwith.

(Via Joe)

End of an era

And good riddance.

BLM Plaza in DC dismantled after 5 years as bill threatens to withhold city’s funding
Work to dismantle the Black Lives Matter Plaza street mural in Washington, DC, that was put up in 2020 following the killings of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor began on Monday.

Reconstruction at the site of the huge, yellow-painted letters close to the White House follows calls to withhold the city’s funding unless it removed the mural and renamed the location “Liberty Plaza.”

“The mural inspired millions and helped our city through a very painful period,” Bowser said.

“But now we can’t afford to be distracted by meaningless congressional interference. The devastating impacts of the federal job cuts must be our number one concern. Our focus is on economic growth, public safety, and supporting our residents affected by these cuts.”

Plans by House Republicans to scrub the divisive BLM mural were revealed in a Post exclusive earlier this month.

Monday’s dismantling of the mural was greeted with triumph by many conservatives — and slammed by those on the left.

“The world is healing,” wrote the Libs of TikTok account on X, run by pro-Trump influencer Chaya Raichik.

“The only people celebrating the dismantling of the Black Lives Matter Plaza in DC are racist fragile white people,” wrote another.

Let’s see now: racist, check; fragile, check (if you hit me in the face with a brick, do I not bleed?); white, check. Yup, ya got me—guilty as charged, on all counts. NOW what, fuckface?

New category for this sort of thing, inspired by the awesome, blistering Minor Threat song.

Update! For more of the impossibly brilliant DC hardcore of the legendary Minor Threat, check out this complete MT discography on YewToob. All the Minor Threat classics are here: I Don’t Wanna Hear It, Filler, 12XU, Small Man Big Mouth, Bottled Violence, Screaming At A Wall, et al. There really never has been anyone quite like ‘em, I must say.

Gat review

The Smith & Wesson Bodyguard .380, v2.0.

S&W’s Bodyguard 2.0 .380 Pistol – One Tiny Lifesaver!
The new S&W Bodyguard has earned its “2.0” status. To put it bluntly… the original 6-shot Bodyguard .380 left much to be desired. The new 2.0 version fixes what was wrong with its predecessor.

Now as it happens, I own a pre-24 (ie, v1.0) Bodyguard pocket rocket myself (this here one, with built-in Crimson Trace red-dot laser), and that “left much to be desired” remark ain’t no bull—specifically, the flimsy, way oversprung, absurdly long-throw plastic trigger, which rendered the little popgun damned near useless unless you were gonna throw it at an assailant’s head or something.

Happily though, thanks to the fine folks at Shepherd Tactical Supply, the fix for that design flaw was cheap and easy-peasy to avail myself of: an under $30 aluminum, adjustable trigger anodized in red (if I remember right, they had ‘em in plain black and silver-grey also, but once I saw the red I was hooked), which tightened everything up nicely, looks great, and made the cute li’l booger a delight to shoot.

I’d never attempted a trigger swap before, which Big Country cautioned me can be a tricky project if you don’t know what you’re doing. Was there a man dismayed? HA! Forward the Light Brigade!

In the event, the job took me no more than about twenty minutes to complete successfully with ordinary hand tools I had lying around just begging to be useful; it was a snap, no lie. Since the trigger swap, then dialing the Crimson Trace in so’s it no longer pointed up into the sky and off to the left, I’ve run a cpl-three boxes of Hornady Critical Defense through the little beastie out in the backyard—no problems, no issues, no hassles, no complaints.

The STS trigger took the Bodyguard from feeling like a cheap, shoddy kid’s toy to something a lot more like a real pistol should be. Thanks to the trigger upgrade, what had once been a dust-covered, neglected nightstand adornment has become my EDC piece. Nowadays, I never leave home without it.

The Bodyguard kit included a bottom-shelf S&W gun rug and two (2) 6-round magazines: one with the all-important pinkie extension piece on the butt plate, and one without. Take my word for it, the pinkie-rest mag is the way to go; assuming I ever do get my hands on a spare nickel again, I really need to hit Nichols Store not far from my house (FANTASTIC gun/ammo/accessories shop, one of the very best I’ve ever been in) and see about getting another one of ‘em. Then I can toss that shorty, flat-butt PoS into the sock drawer and forget it ever even existed.

Hey, a man can dream, can’t he?

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CF Glossary

ProPol: Professional Politician

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

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

Mordor On The Potomac: Washington, DC

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