White man’s burden

The Dark Continent was anything but a peaceful, idyllic paradise well before the first European Whypeepuh ever set foot on the blighted shitpit.

I confess I was quite skeptical about Gilley’s book, given the needlessly incendiary title. Defending German colonialism, given that any story of late 19th and early-20th century German history will inevitably be wrapped up in that country’s condemnable behavior in two world wars, seems a curious intellectual enterprise for a professional academic (and for readers with more liberal sensitivities, it’s likely to be downright offensive). Not only that, but in a time when America’s post-Cold War foreign policy has been defined by constant overreach that has exacerbated various crises (e.g. regional political instability, anti-American Islamic extremism, migration), it seems a bit tone-deaf to be arguing that Western intervention around the world — especially when the West’s power is diminishing — is something to be encouraged.

Nevertheless, regardless of the strength of Gilley’s defense of German colonialism, the story he tells, substantiated by extensive historical documentation, does quite a bit to undermine popular narratives in America about pre-colonial Africa and the African colonial experience. For starters, the peoples inhabiting what would become Germany’s African colonies were far from innocent peoples living in harmony with each other and nature. Human sacrifice was common among at least one of the tribes of Cameroon. Slavery was common across both Namibia (southwest Africa) and what would become the colony of German East Africa (present-day Tanzania, Rwanda, Burundi, and part of Mozambique).

The Nama and Herero peoples, both of whom had migrated to Namibia only a generation before the Germans (and displaced other indigenous African tribes such as the Damara people in the process), were engaged in bloody, genocidal warfare. In 1850, the Nama massacred a fifth of the Herero population in a single day. The Herero raided native Damara and Saan villages, killing all but the young and strong, whom they exploited as slaves. Many escaped to the Germans. Writes Gilley: “Even if left to their own devices, the Herero and Nama would not have lived in idyllic bliss tending healthy herds of cattle and hosting multiethnic community barbecues.”

Our anti-Western conceptions of colonial Africa are equally misinformed. In 1904, a policy in German East Africa decreed that all children born to slaves beginning in 1906 were free. Moreover, between 1891 and 1912, more than 50,000 slaves in the colony were freed by legal, social, and financial means. By 1920, slavery had virtually been eradicated from the region.

German East Africa was also environmentally conscious, codifying laws prohibiting unlicensed elephant hunting and creating the first game reserves. It promoted education by natives: By 1910, there were more than 4,000 students in state schools. “The Germans have accomplished marvels,” noted a 1924 British report on local education initiatives. The education system in German colonies provided instruction in local histories, cultures, and geographies, as well as technical subjects common in German curricula. Because of this, local language media prospered. “German transformed Swahili from a coastal language of Muslim elites to the lingua franca for the future country of Tanzania,” writes Gilley.

The Germans provided free and accessible medical care for many Africans. They engaged in extensive agricultural and infrastructure projects in Namibia, including roads, railways, water holes, and port facilities. A German scientist developed a vaccine that saved native cattle from a catastrophic illness. The Germans built a 1,250-kilometer railway linking Lake Tanganyika to Dar es Salaam, which to this day “remains the lifeblood of Tanzania’s economy and of Zambia’s trans-shipment traffic.” Economies previously based on slavery transitioned to coffee.

Africa’s most insuperable problem remains the same as it always has been: the horrid place is full of Africans.

But what, you ask, does Africa have to do with the recently-manufactured-from-whole-(kente) cloth “holiday” Kwanzaa? Why, not one single, solitary thing, natch.

Spanning from Dec. 26 to the first of January is Kwanzaa, the invented African American holiday celebrated solely by white liberals and clueless public school teachers. Overblown by leftist claiming the holiday has immense cultural significance, a survey by the National Retail Foundation discovered only 1.6 percent of Americans celebrate Kwanzaa.

The “holiday” was created in 1966 by Ron Karenga, who renamed himself Maulana. Karenga, the founder of the United Slaves, a violent rival organization to the Black Panthers, created the holiday for black Americans and derived the name “Kwanzaa” from the Swahili phrase “matunda y kwanza,” meaning “first fruits of the harvest.” That’s about the extent of the deep African roots the official Kwanzaa website claims.

Guess the extra “a” in Karenga’s dimwitted misspelling lends it extra authenticity. Or, y’know, something. Oh, and do be sure to thank the Germans, Ronnie, for bringing you the Swahili tongue you’re misspeaking, fool.

The history of the holiday and Karenga has been seamlessly suppressed by leftists who find the facts inconvenient. Since few know its origins, the current definitions of the celebration are usually nonsensical and made up, much like the holiday itself.

FrontPage Magazine’s Paul Mulshine writes that “the history of the founder of Kwanzaa has disappeared into an Orwellian time warp.” Indeed, CNN informs readers that Kwanzaa’s violent, racist founder was “a black nationalist and professor of Pan-African studies at California State University at Long Beach,” omitting his criminal and misogynistic past.

Karenga is currently a black studies professor at California State University, Long Beach where the administration is apparently untroubled by the fact that this radical racist is also a convicted torturer of women. Despite the troubling past of Kwanzaa’s founder, leftists continue to shove this fake holiday down America’s throat every Christmas.

Yeah, well, fuck them all to Hell and gone, as always. That said, what Kwanzaa celebration would be complete without a stinking-blotto Granny Boxwine slurring and slobbering her way around the stupid fucking word?


Heh. Well said, ya haggard old soak.

5

YES!

So my bleg the other day has borne fruit over at BCE’s joint, as fate would have it. Intrepid commenter Some rando puts us some knowledge:

Hey biggun: BP Mike was asking about Beethoven Christmas muzik.
Skunk works sez it’s Pamela Howland – Christmas With Beethoven.

And sure enough, BLAMMO, just like that: what once was lost now is found. Well, okay, I mean, it wasn’t really lost, exactly, it just sorta…I mean, y’know, I couldn’t seem to find…oh, to heck with it. Many thanks to you, Rando, and a very merry Christmas to ye.

Update! While we’re on the subject, let me revert to one of the Carolyne Taylor arrangements I found whilst poking around for hours the other night, and felt was fascinating: a happy marriage of one of my DeBussy all-timers, Clair de Lune, with the hauntingly beautiful “Silent Night.”

So much wonderful stuff out there just waiting to be listened to and enjoyed, one could never hope to get around to it all. Speaking of, please indulge me for a couple more from my annual Christmas Best-Of list.


You gotta love it, no?

Updated update! And since I’m dealing out the humble thank-you’s here, indulge me a wee bit further as I offer a most heartfelt one to CF Lifer Barry, who graciously assisted me in sorting out an issue with the Gab Pay thingamawheezy I wasn’t even aware I had. It gratifies me no end to be able to report that the GP tech-support folks were most Johnny-On-The-Spot-ish with their much-needed help; I’ve been rooting hard for Torba’s pet project since its inception, so it gives me the warm fuzzies deep down inside to see ’em take care of business in such an expeditious and capable fashion.

Much as I do like Elon Musk, enjoyable as it’s been to watch him pull Twitter’s head all the way up its own ass to the shoulders and wring it right the hell out to the accompaniment of a chorus of weeping and whining from overentitled, too-twee shitlibs everywhere, I really have no intention of jumping the Gab ship and heading there-wards instead.

1

Exceptional

Comic Rob Schneider waxes serious.

I believe we in western civilization have departed from “The Age of Reason,” and are now falling into “The Age of Emotion.” We are in the process of trading critical thinking and logic for the excesses of ‘how one feels.’ Rational people are the new heretics who dare question it.

This “Age of Emotions” has it’s belief systems and superstitions that act as a religion. You are not allowed to question any part of it or you are excommunicated. At the same time the world is experiencing democracy fatigue. Which opens the door to totalitarianism.

And now with the help of big tech, government has at its disposal new enormous powers to control narratives & crush any dissent & to destroy people who resist or fight back.

Crisis after crisis will continue to be used to eliminate individual liberties

Andrea Widberg follows up.

Many Americans remember Rob Schneider from his time on Saturday Night Live in the late 1980s through the early 1990s, when he created several amusing characters. After leaving SNL, he’s had a decent Hollywood career, although he hasn’t had the fame his pal Adam Sandler has enjoyed. I hope, though, that Schneider will be remembered for something else. In a Twitter thread, he expressed his love for America and her constitutional values, especially when arrayed against the mindless emotionalism and techno-fascism that now threatens those values.

Schneider’s political trajectory was not foreordained. As a half-Jewish San Francisco Bay Area native and San Francisco State graduate (usually a sure sign of leftism) who then made his career in Hollywood, leftism would seem inevitable. Instead, Schneider is not just a conservative but also a proud American who understands and values America’s unique virtues and recognizes the forces arrayed against her.

Too many Republican politicians are afraid to say what Schneider said or, if they say those things, they don’t exercise their politics in line with those ideals or as a response to those threats. Many kudos to Schneider for his courage and wisdom.

Amen to that.

13

The paramount importance of proper product placement

Methinks a little judicious shelf-rearrangement might be in order here.

 

I can’t help but suspect that, somewhere out there, there’s a nonbinary, gender-befuddled Minor Attracted Pedophile™ Wal Mart store manager having him/her/itself a good snicker over this.

2

A good and decent man

That would be the greatest Supreme Court justice we ever have had, the completely admirable and honorable Clarence Thomas.

“Thus, when you give to the needy, sound no trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may be praised by others. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward.” — Matthew 6:2

Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas embodies this verse well, as it has recently come to light that he has been quietly placing Christmas wreaths on the graves of American veterans for years.

D.C. journalist and author Emily Miller spotted Thomas volunteering for Wreaths Across America at Arlington National Cemetery on Saturday, as seen in a photo she posted to Twitter.

Wreaths Across America is a charitable organization that mobilizes thousands of volunteers every year to put wreaths on the graves of veterans and fallen soldiers.

This isn’t the first year Thomas has volunteered at Arlington Cemetery, either.

The justice can be seen in a candid photo from 2013 helping to clean up the cemetery after the Christmas season on a rainy January day.

The un-self-conscious nature of the photo stands in stark contrast to the contrived photo-ops that Democratic politicians conjure up for their own selfish ambitions and narratives.

Which, there have been plenty of those, to the surprise of no sane and aware person. Exhibit A:

Democratic New Jersey Rep. Andy Kim shamelessly attempted to gain clout from the Capitol incursion by cleaning up the “carnage,” as described by one Facebook user — the carnage being a few water bottles.

A photo captured Kim “experiencing the horror firsthand,” while everything around him looked hilariously pristine.

The photo-op photo in question:

The horror, the horror
Nope, doesn’t look staged at all to me

The thing to remember here is, as the author reiterates in his closing ‘graphs, Justice Thomas has been going about his good works on the QT rather than making sure plenty of Enemedia cameras were on hand to publicize him for it. It’s exactly as the last line says:

We could use more people in Washington demonstrating a spirit of humility and gratitude rather than selfish ambition.

Couldn’t we, though. Couldn’t we just.

5

Church militant

We need more hardass clergymen like Dagger John Hughes, and fewer of the namby-pamby, weak-as-water shitlib sobsisters mainstream Christianity is currently burdened with.

We are not the first generation of New Yorkers puzzled by what to do about the underclass. A hundred years ago and more, Manhattan’s tens of thousands of Irish seemed a lost community, mired in poverty and ignorance, destroying themselves through drink, idleness, violence, criminality, and illegitimacy. What made the Irish such miscreants? Their neighbors weren’t sure: perhaps because they were an inferior race, many suggested; you could see it in the shape of their heads, writers and cartoonists often emphasized. In any event, they were surely incorrigible.

But within a generation, New York’s Irish flooded into the American mainstream. The sons of criminals were now the policemen; the daughters of illiterates had become the city’s schoolteachers; those who’d been the outcasts of society now ran its political machinery. No job training program or welfare system brought about so sweeping a change. What accomplished it, instead, was a moral transformation, a revolution in values. And just as John Wesley, the founder of Methodism in the late eighteenth century, had sparked a change in the culture of the English working class that made it unusually industrious and virtuous, so too a clergyman was the catalyst for the cultural change that liberated New York’s Irish from their underclass behavior. He was John Joseph Hughes, an Irish immigrant gardener who became the first Catholic archbishop of New York. How he accomplished his task can teach us volumes about the solution to our own end-of-the-millennium social problems.

John Hughes’s personal history embodied all the virtues he tried so successfully to inculcate in his flock. They were very much the energetic rather than the contemplative virtues: as a newspaper reporter of the time remarked of him, he was “more a Roman gladiator than a devout follower of the meek founder of Christianity.” He was born on June 24, 1797, in Annaloghan, County Tyrone, the son of a poor farmer. As a Catholic in English-ruled Ireland, he was, he said, truly a second-class citizen from the day he was baptized, barred from ever owning a house worth more than five pounds or holding a commission in the army or navy. Catholics could neither run schools nor give their children a Catholic education. Priests had to be licensed by the government, which allowed only a few in the country. Any Catholic son could seize his father’s property by becoming a Protestant.

When Hughes was 15, an event he was never to forget crystallized for him the injustice of English domination. His younger sister, Mary, died. English law barred the local Catholic priest from entering the cemetery gates to preside at her burial; the best he could do was to scoop up a handful of dirt, bless it, and hand it to Hughes to sprinkle on the grave. From early on, Hughes said, he had dreamed of “a country in which no stigma of inferiority would be impressed on my brow, simply because I professed one creed or another.”

Fleeing poverty and persecution, Hughes’s father brought the family to America in 1817. The 20-year-old Hughes went to work as a gardener and stonemason at Mount St. Mary’s college and seminary in Emmitsburg, Maryland. Working there rekindled in him a childhood dream of becoming a priest, and he asked the head of the seminary, John Dubois, if he could enroll as a student. Dubois, a French priest who had fled Paris during the French Revolution armed with a letter of recommendation from Lafayette, turned him down, unable to see past his lack of education to the qualities of mind and character that lay within. This was no ordinary gardener, Dubois should have recognized; indeed, as he went back to his gardening chores, Hughes wrote a bitter poem on the shamefulness of slavery and its betrayal of America’s promise of freedom. Not one to forget a slight, Hughes harshly froze Dubois out of his life when he became prominent and powerful. Indeed, in later years, Hughes won the nickname of “Dagger John,” a reference not only to the shape of the cross that accompanied his printed signature but also to his being a man not to be trifled with or double-crossed.

And that he most certainly was, with big ol’ bells on. As I recall, Mike Walsh has written an essay or two about Dagger John, extolling his uncompromising, stout refusal to bend the knee to any earthly prince or potentate and meekly accept his fate as a second-class citizen because of his professed faith.

It’s easy to forget these days, perhaps, but even as recently as 1960 there were a great many Americans who questioned JFK’s fitness for the office of President purely because he was Catholic. They were strongly suspicious of the risk of what they called “popery” and “dual loyalty”—that, as a Roman Catholic, Kennedy’s primary fidelity would necessarily lie not with the US but with the Vatican. If that sounds eerily reminiscent of the accusations hurled at a certain ethnic group today, well, that ain’t no coincidence.

Read on for lots more about the life and times of a truly fascinating man; it’s good stuff, for sure.

2

The creepiest thing you’ll ever see

Okay, “creepy” doesn’t even BEGIN to cover this.

The Real-Life Matrix: ‘EctoLife’ Artificial Womb Facility to Engineer, Grow Babies in ‘Factory’

If you thought the millions of plastic pods artificially “growing” human babies in The Matrix were creepy, wait until you see the animation of “EctoLife,” set to be the world’s first artificial womb facility. A recent video posted online by its inventor, Hashem Al-Ghaili, enthusiastically described a facility where tens of thousands of babies could be engineered and gestated in artificial “wombs” with constant monitoring to check for biological defects and growth. EctoLife claims it will engineer the most “viable and genetically superior embryo” as it is “reinventing evolution,” producing up to “30,000 lab-grown babies per year.”

As EctoLife asserted, “Our goal is to provide you with an intelligent offspring that truly reflects your smart choices.” Because eugenics led to such wonderful results in the 20th century!

Remember how leftists have been telling us for years, and continue to tell us, that we’re overpopulating the earth? EctoLife’s ad explicitly said it is “designed to help countries that are suffering from severe population decline”—something that most of the world is suffering from, including America, by the way. Turns out that forgoing reproducing to pursue high-powered careers, luxury vacations, and an end to “climate change” was not such a bright idea. The solution is not being to have babies the way God intended, of course, but to engineer and grow them in fake wombs. That way, “artificial intelligence” (AI) can monitor your baby for “genetic abnormalities” (it’s unclear what would happen to babies who turn out to be supposedly imperfect).

The one really positive aspect is that the ad uses the word “baby” to refer to unborn children throughout the entire ad, a tacit admission that pro-lifers are correct that the unborn truly are humans and not mere clumps of cells.

There are many disturbing aspects to the ad, however. There’s the fact that parents can supposedly “engineer” everything about their baby in the “elite package.” CRISPR gene editing can “customize” and “fix” the baby, from his skin color to his IQ to his genetic disease susceptibilities, for a “genetically superior” baby. There’s the narrator excitedly explaining how birth will no longer involve a woman’s body (just another way to sideline women while pretending to free them, I guess). Instead, it will involve a mere “push of a button.”

The ad expressed a seeming leftist bent by boasting that EctoLife will be powered by “sustainable” wind and solar energy, so you don’t have to worry about your “carbon footprint.” I guess if climate alarmists can’t convince humans to stop having children altogether to save the planet, they’ll artificially grow babies in highly controllable artificial wombs instead.

I found it particularly interesting that the ad claimed, “With EctoLife, miscarriage and low sperm count are a thing of the past.” Some contraceptives have long-term effects on fertility, and studies indicate that COVID-19 vaccines could reduce sperm count too. Did transhumanist leftists create the problem and then provide EctoLife as a “solution”?

Knowing what we know about how thoroughly Left dogma has infiltrated and subsumed what used to be respectfully regarded as “science,” as is confirmed by Ectolife’s inclusion of the above bit casually tossing out “sustainable” and “carbon footprint” and such-like Progtard buzzwords, we dare not put anything whatsoever past them.

Funny, innit, how naturally playing God seems to come to Leftwits who strain themselves absolutely purple-faced denying His existence with every other breath they draw. But not “ha-ha” funny, of course.

1

Baby, it’s politically-incorrect up in here

VP calls for a fresh look at a great old song.

It’s Time to Rehabilitate ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’

It’s been nearly two decades since “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” earned the ire of our finger-wagging, no-fun, culture scolds.

This week I saw the first sign that might finally be happening.

The heat was probably never more intense than it was four years ago when GenZ got into the act and demanded that radio stations stop playing it. The Wall Street Journal had the details in a piece headlined, “‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’ Heats Up Culture Wars.

The actual history of the tune is that Frank Loesser wrote it for himself and his wife to perform as a duet. And not just sung, but to be performed, perfectly staged, live at parties. The Journal spoke with their daughter, Susan, who said that “the reference to what is in the woman’s drink was common at the time, signifying only that having an alcoholic beverage was cool.” When I was a young boy in the ’70s, I can remember on many occasions my grandmother asking the very same thing when my grandfather had poured her a stiff one, and him replying, “Nothing I didn’t make for you last night,” or words to that effect. The same generation as the Loessers, middle age didn’t make them any less playful with one another.

Dean Martin recorded the song in 1959, and his daughter Deana told Fox News on Tuesday that she’s “flabbergasted” by the controversy. “It’s just insane. When I heard it, I said, ‘This can’t possibly be.’ You know, it’s a sweet, flirty, fun holiday song that’s been around for 40 years.”

No real conundrum or cause for bafflement here, I’d say. Sweet, flirty, fun—can it really come as any big surprise to saner sorts that pinched-faced, juiceless, joyless liberal bluenoses have so worked hard to do away with it?

Susan Loesser backs up that interpretation, telling the Journal, “The female singer’s repeated insistence that she needed to go was halfhearted, as she too wanted to stay.” Which is exactly how every female performer in every version of this song has sung it. She isn’t threatened or out-of-control drunk; she showed up at his place knowing exactly what she wanted. Or as Loesser explained: “She’s flirting like crazy. She’s wanting to stay, but she’s worried about what people will think.”

In other words: a nice girl with a naughty side. Just what I wanted for Christmas!

Better watch your step there, Stephen; they’ll be coming for you next, if you keep it up.

1
1

“FLY, you fools!”

Looks like a lot of San Franciscans have been heeding Gandalf the Grey’s urgent admonition to the other Nine Walkers from the Bridge of Khazad-dum, right before he smote the Balrog and descended into the deepest pits of Moria along with his foe.

Why no one is buying downtown San Francisco’s luxury condos

Underneath the headline is a photo taken from one of those luxury high-rise apartments, overlooking what was once one of the most physically-glorious cities in all the world, now tragically reduced to a shit-encrusted, unlivable pit of despair, blight, and iniquity by decades of ultra-liberal misrule.

These days, a luxury high-rise in downtown San Francisco with units that appear to be mostly empty isn’t an uncommon sight. As a cooling real estate market continues to impact the city, downtown condos might be some of the hardest-hit properties around.

Patrick Carlisle, Compass’ chief market analyst, said that while economic headwinds are affecting real estate markets everywhere, downtown San Francisco’s condo market has been hit especially hard.

“That market has been hit hardest in the city,” Carlisle told SFGATE. This is due to a few different factors, he said, one being the mass abandonment of downtown office spaces since the start of the pandemic.

IE: all part of The Plan, then.

Speaking of tech workers, Carlisle said the uncertainty brought on by mass tech layoffs has also affected property sales downtown. He added that an increase in homelessness and crime in downtown areas has affected the “quality-of-life ambiance” for people in those areas, presumably buyers who are reluctant to live among the city’s unhoused populations.

This condo market, Carlisle said, is separate from the luxury condos located in areas like Russian Hill, Nob Hill, Pacific Heights and the Marina District. Condos in these areas tend to be built in older, smaller buildings located in less urban neighborhoods and have taken much less of a hit than their glossier counterparts downtown.

“The downtown market has been hit much, much harder than the luxury condo market in these older neighborhoods,” Carlisle said. “I’m not saying there haven’t been effects in places like Russian Hill and Nob Hill and Pacific Heights because there have been. The market has softened there also, quite significantly, but not to the degree that the downtown market has.”

According to a recent report from Compass, the median sales price of a two-bedroom condo in downtown areas has dropped by 16% since 2021, compared to a 7% drop in the price of two-bedroom condos outside of that area. The report also states that condo inventory in this area is more than twice as high as the rest of the city — which explains the seemingly empty high-rises looming everywhere downtown.

In October, one 45-story luxury high-rise made news after it was revealed that only 13 of its 146 units had been purchased in the two years they’d been up for sale. Rumors that Steph and Ayesha Curry had purchased a unit at the property, named the Four Seasons Private Residences, turned out to be false. The development features units that range from studios to $49 million two-story penthouses.

Ah well, “what goes up must come down” still applies, I guess.

Despite these trends, Carlisle said that for some, this downturn may act as a chance to purchase a condo at a lower price.

“Of course, there are people who see this as an opportunity to get a good deal,” Carlisle said. “There are condos selling in the newer luxury developments in the South Beach and Yerba Buena areas at large discounts from what people paid for them three, four years back. You know, we’re talking gorgeous units with spectacular views in ultra-luxury buildings.”

Views that also feature feces-strewn, used-needle-clogged streets and sidewalks; reeking stewbums, junkies, thieves, and miscellaneous thugs; and the ever-dwindling handful of affluent, smarmy shitlibs stubbornly determined to ride the SF disaster out to the bitter end somehow.

Yeah, thanks but no thanks, bub. Having been to SF many times on tour with the BPs over the years, I loved the place for its beauty and once-myriad charm, but no longer. I wouldn’t go back there now if I was being paid by the hour, and obviously I am by no means alone in that sentiment. It’s truly sad, a latter-day American disgrace, that’s what—a pluperfect example of what inevitably results each and every time shitlibs are allowed to run things.

(Via Stephen)

2
2

Just another phony war

For Aesop: seen this one yet? Asking for a friend, that’s all.

Merkel Spills Beans on How U.S. and NATO Partners Planned War in Ukraine Against Russia

It is becoming irrefutably clear that the United States and its NATO partners have been planning for many years for the current war in the Ukraine against Russia. That fact makes the prospects for peace all the more elusive. How to negotiate with a mindset that is so deeply invested and ingrained with belligerence?

Western governments and media accuse Russia of “unprovoked aggression” against Ukraine and are clamoring for Moscow to hand over eye-watering financial compensation as well as face war crimes prosecutions.

The bitter irony is that the war in Ukraine, which is dangerously escalating and could spiral into a nuclear cataclysm, was sown by the United States and its accomplices. It is the West that bears ultimate responsibility for this abysmal situation, not Russia.

Former German Chancellor Angela Merkel (2005-2021) is the latest Western source to come clean or let their guard down. She disclosed in a recent interview with Der Spiegel the real roots of the war.

Merkel’s reprehensible revelation is inadvertent. She refers to appeasing the Ukrainian regime as a way to eventually build up its fighting strength against Russia. She invokes this reasoning as a way to justify why she objected to Ukraine’s earlier membership of the NATO alliance in 2008. The fact of membership wasn’t wrong, it was just a matter of wrong timing, according to Merkel.

As respected independent military analyst Scott Ritter points out, Merkel also knew that the Kiev regime installed by the CIA-backed coup d’état in 2014 was not interested in a peaceful resolution of the civil war in that country.

The unspoken policy in Berlin was all about buying time for the anticipated aggression against Russia. This was in spite of the fact that Germany along with France was supposed to be a guarantor of the Minsk peace agreements negotiated in 2014 and 2015.

In other words, Ukraine was primed for war against Russia from 2014 onwards.

Merkel’s admission is therefore really a confession of Western duplicity towards Russia, as Ritter astutely notes.

Plenty more at the link, all of it damning for the unabashedly evil Western manipulators running this whole shitshow. While I do have sympathy for the workaday Ukrainians suffering through this, I still don’t give a rat’s patoot about the fate of Ukraine’s current kleptocracy, given how it has functioned for many years now as basically a Democrat Party ATM. And though I harbor neither affection nor allegiance for Pooty-Poot (as the ridiculous George W Bush called him), if he takes Zelensky and his corrupt cabal down hard, I won’t be shedding any tears over it.

(Via Dave Renegade)

1

A real mystery

Keep checking six, Elon.

Elon Musk Vows To Reveal Government And Media Collusion Once He Figures Out Where These Red Dots Are Coming From

AUSTIN, TX — The world waited eagerly for further information on the Hunter Biden laptop story suppression from Twitter owner Elon Musk, who had vowed to reveal the details of potential government collusion with the media as soon as he can figure out why he keeps seeing little red dots hovering around on his body.

“I have every intention of being as transparent and straightforward in this matter as possible,” Musk said on a Zoom call interview as a trio of red dots swirled around on his forehead. “All will be known very shortly. I just have to determine why I’m suddenly covered in these little, red laser dots.”

Witnesses close to Musk said the dots first began to appear shortly after he tweeted his intention to provide details about Twitter suppressing the Hunter Biden laptop scandal in the fall of 2020, shortly before the presidential election. “Within minutes of writing that tweet, we noticed the little dots appearing on the walls of every room Elon was in,” said Adrian Haj, a member of Musk’s inner circle. “We didn’t think anything of it at first, but now they’re everywhere. Weird!”

It’s funny, but then again it really isn’t…because you know as well as I do that they’d have no qualms whatsoever about offing the guy. Hopefully, Elon knows that too, and will be taking serious precautions going forward.

Update! Really, now, how could any red-blooded Real American not just love this man?


DeSantis hell, I just may endorse Elon Musk for Prez in 2024.

Via Bill, who notes that there’s actually a serious side to this. I repeat: how can you not just love the guy?

3

Happy 100th birthday

To the incomparable Charles Schultz.

The 100th anniversary of the late cartoonist Charles Schulz’s birthday came and went last week without any notice anywhere, that I saw. And so, with thanks to Mark, I pen my own little tribute here to one of the great creative geniuses in American history.

If you were young at any time between 1950 (when Schulz first began publishing his comic strip Peanuts) and 2000, when Schulz died at the age of 77, you grew up in a world in which everyone read the latest Peanuts comic strip (particularly in the US and Canada) as part of their daily newspaper reading ritual.

In that world, Peanuts comic strip panels—carefully cut from the newspaper—adorned refrigerators, bedroom walls, lockers, office bulletin boards, everywhere you went; Peanuts characters adorned T-shirts and lunch boxes; Peanuts references peppered everyday conversations; and Peanuts television specials attracted as many adult viewers as child viewers.

Most remarkably, in that world, Peanuts story lines, themes, and characters resided so deeply in the North American psyche, they had come to serve as crucial cognitive tools for enabling people to experience, make sense of, and communicate about themselves and the world around them.

On that last point, think of how many times you’ve said, or heard someone say, “It’s Lucy with the football”. The reference instantly transmits not just an insight into the true dynamics of a situation, but an insight with powerful emotional valence. In a flash, you think back to all those strips showing Lucy fooling Charlie Brown again…and you re-experience your own past feeling of wanting to believe in something so badly, you’ve forgotten what history has already taught you, and you’ve started to fall prey to the persuasions of someone who just won’t deliver in the end. Think of Lucy holding that football, and you inevitably start to wonder if, in this case, you’ve turned into Charlie Brown. It’s a reality check.

That it surely is. Tal goes on from there to, as he puts it, “touch on a few deeper issues,” in his usual erudite and adroit fashion. To wit:

People naturally tend to think of earlier generations as somewhat benighted compared to us in our present age. We assume those before us didn’t have the awareness we have, or the depth, sophistication, or imagination. And certainly, we might be tempted to imagine that about an era in which “The Andy Griffith Show”, “Gilligan’s Island”, and “My Three Sons” were the biggest shows going, as opposed to, say, “Narcos”, or whatever the latest serial killer series Netflix is running now. Or where the biggest pop stars were Frankie ValliDion, and Patti Page, as opposed to our present collection of convicted felonsprostitutesdrug addictspimps, and Satanists.

But Peanuts often went deep. One example is the daring surrealism Schulz inserted into the strip, particularly through the character of Charlie Brown’s beagle, Snoopy.

Sitting alone on top of his doghouse, Snoopy regularly hallucinates himself back in time to World War I. Once there, he often finds himself in air battle as a fighter pilot. In these moments, his doghouse is no longer a doghouse. It is a Sopwith Camel outfitted with Vickers machine guns. His main job is to kill Germans (particularly the flying ace Manfred von Richthofen); but in various sequences, he carries messages through trenches filled with the wounded, gets shot down behind enemy lines, dates local French girls, and laments the deaths of his fallen comrades.

Schulz goes farther. He ends up casting these episodes as perhaps more than hallucinations. In one strip, for example, Charlie Brown stands before his school classroom to read a paper on the flu epidemic of 1918. He then reveals it was actually Snoopy who wrote it, since Snoopy was there throughout the crisis. Snoopy stands next to Charlie Brown in class, dressed in his World War I flying gear. That Schulz never definitively explains what’s going on with the fantasy sequences only heightens our emotional engagement with the sequences.

Bachman’s deft analysis continues from there. Read of it, for It Is Good.

1

Can there be a Dissident Right worthy of the name?

The pratfalls and pitfalls of nomenclature and terminology.

What you see is lots of people who used to claim the label alt-right having stopped using that now discredited term and picking up this new label. Their opinions have not changed and their understanding has not changed. They just needed a new label so they scanned around and found one that had not be ruined yet. In many cases, these people have no coherent politics at all, just grievances.

That’s one of the things that annoys me so terribly about all the “JOOOOO JOOOOO JOOOO!!!” screeching from many on Our Side, blaming the Tiny Hat Cabal for all their problems. It reminds me of nothing so much as the way the Nig-nogs do the same with De White Man, and strikes me as not only stupid but also self-defeating. As I’ve so long maintained, the problem ain’t with Jews per se, it’s with LIBERAL Jews—who, while clearly an overwhelming majority of US Yids, are by no means so everywhere.

Trust me on that, folks. The last apartment I had in NYC, which I was in for over three years, was overtop of a Lubavitcher synagogue and primary school, in a half-block long building on East Broadway owned by one of the congregants, a super-nice, tirelessly hard-working young fella named Mike. Anybody who knows anything about Lubavitchers knows full well that the very last thing you could credibly accuse them of is being any kind of shitlibs.

What strikes the eye first about the Lubavitchers is their anachronistic appearance: the men in their black hats and black suits and bushy beards (which replicate the appearance of eighteenth century Polish aristocrats); the women in their long skirts and long sleeves and big wigs (which they believe protect the dignity of men as well as women); and the parents with their great gaggles of children (who reflect the priorities they believe imposed on the them by God’s commandments). Of course the Lubavitchers are also known for their massive outreach programs. The mobilized faithful can be seen in the pale and awkward young men hovering beside their mitzvah-mobiles on college campuses and busy city street corners, insistently inviting Jews passing by to step into the back of their open U-Haul trucks to say a prayer, and in the establishment around the world of Chabad Houses that provide Torah study, a Shabbat meal, and a seat at holiday feasts to Jews away from home. And the Lubavitchers are notorious for their enthusiasm for their spiritual leader, investing the Lubavitcher rebbe, in death as in life, with mystical, messianic, world-redemptive powers.

So the chasm between the Lubavitcher life and the liberal or progressive life is real and wide.

In addition, my first job when I moved to NYC was at a vintage clothing store called Cheap Jack’s, owned by a hard-ass Israeli named…well, Jack, natch, who had served honorably in the IDF for years before he immigrated to the States and opened the store. Now as it happens, Jack was more than happy to let me hover around the front of the store up by the register with him, regaling me with tales of life in Israel, his military service, and other such interesting subjects.

Admittedly, Jack was pretty much the living embodiment of many stereotypes historically associated with the Jews: he was indeed money-obsessed, greedy, and eminently capable of some pretty damned low skullduggery, even outright dishonesty, in his pursuit of the almighty dollar. Nonetheless, he was a good enough guy generally, capable of unexpected acts of generosity and personal warmth. But above all else, at least as far as I was concerned, Jack was NOT a liberal, which for me went a long way towards cancelling out the whole money-grubbing, hook-nosed-Jew crapola. Anyways, digression over.

Labels are important, especially in politics. The words in the label bring meaning and connotation, but the label should have its own definition. The white nationalists are not simply people who are white and patriotic. Hitler was white and a nationalist, but no educated person would call Hitler a white nationalist. The label white nationalist has meaning that transcends the words in the label.

Therein lies the danger with labels. The white nationalists have allowed the bad guys to define the label they use. It was not all their fault, as the bad guys control the organs of cultural production, so they were able to define the label. That said, the many wackos who have been allowed to use the label white nationalist have made it easy for the bad guys to anathematize the term by soaking it with their vitriol.

That is why it is important to control your language. This was one of the many errors made by the alt-right. They never bothered to provide a clear definition of what they meant by an alternative right. This allowed every weirdo and goofball looking for a home to lay claim to the label. If they had put some effort into defining their labels and controlling who used it, they would have avoided the weirdo problem.

Only to be expected, I think. Given that the Progressivists have demonstrated their absolute mastery of semantics and the manipulation of language itself over and again, the Right’s inability to settle on a suitable name to call themselves, even, is probably damned nigh inescapable.

2

A very worthy cause

Was chatting over the teleomaphone with my brother-from-another-mother Billy earlier and he made a request I’m only too happy to grant: a rerun of the link to the Saving Adriana Grace fundraiser page. I know times are tough out there these days thanks to the usual bitch’s brew of DemonRat fuckery and misgovernance, and Christmas is nigh upon us also. But having met Adriana myself and knowing her to be the sweet, lovely little girl she definitely is, I can’t think of a finer place for y’all to donate any extra dough you might have lying around, in whatever amount you can manage.

Billy and Gretch are fighting the good fight here, and that ain’t never cheap nor easy. There have been some positive developments of late, so let’s see if we can’t put some truly good people and a most deserving child into the win column here.

4

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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

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