Screwed, blued, tattooed

The always-wise and eloquent Claire Wolfe is wondering about a few important things.

We hardly need Arnold Schwartzenegger to tell us our freedom is screwed.

As determined as we freedomistas may be to uphold our mental and philosophical freedoms, our political freedoms and economic freedoms are gone-gone-gone. They’ve been going for decades of course. But we now live under a regime that in eight months has ruled via a combination of ever-shifting whim, diktat, incompetence, and a complete disregard for reason, principle, or constitutional law.

When you’re ruled by capricious madmen, your external freedoms are moot. Here today, gone tomorrow, partially restored for a few moments the day after that, made illegal and punishable by heaven knows what the following day.

Knowing we’re headed for some sort of revolution, I’ve surrounded myself with history books. Seeking parallels. Seeking key differences. Seeking advice from the past. Seeking useful blog fodder.

What can we learn not to do from the French? How are we like, and different from, the Americans of 1774? Must we expect the Russian revolution or might we be smart, luck out and get the kind they had more recently in Estonia or East Germany or Hungary? What can the fall of the Roman empire and its long aftermath tell us? How about the Irish, with their centuries of failure followed finally by a “success” that tears them apart to this day?

I’m telling you, though, I read and read and read and got nada.

While history does at times conveniently rhyme — or echo; we can hear the echoes of several civilizations now — our circumstances are so different they’re like discordant, meterless, meaningless nonsense verse, conveying nothing coherent.

I called up a friend with whom I often brainstorm.

“Give me some insights, preferably with a dose of optimism,” I requested.

For half an hour he ranted about…how screwed we are.

Yes, we’re like the French in 1789 or the American colonists in 1774 or the Irish in 1916. But we’re much more like Germany in 1933.

I have no hope for us; we are such a nation of cowards. We have no backbone.

Even after decades of being lied to, we’re watching Americans not only bow down to every bit of nonsense uttered by the establishment, but seeing those of us who question the nonsense demonized as vermin, to be exterminated.

It’s the kind of self-righteousness that goes along with absolute spinelessness.

Well. That was cheery.

Oddly ironic, ain’t it, how we’ve suddenly found ourselves tossed about on the stormy seas of all-too-familiar history, and yet are in completely uncharted territory simultaneously. But since Claire brought up the French and all, Dave Renegade reviews a little French history that might well contain a useful lesson or three for us.

History once again repeats itself as Afghanistan has fallen to the Taliban in a matter of days. Or should we acknowledge this as a surrender since the American puppet army did not give any resistance to their conquerors. I doubt the Afghanistan government installed by the United States was popular except with the opium traders. I also doubt that this was an intelligence failure: the CIA knew what was going to happen. They found greener pastures to rape under the illegal Biden administration.

The analogy of Napoleon’s return to power from Elba should also be considered. Napoleon landed back in France on March 1, 1815. He regained power in Paris on March 20, 1815 without any resistance.

Napoleon was recognized by the military and the people as their rightful leader:

[Napoleon] landed at Cannes on March 1st, intending to travel to the city of Grasse, however the road he wanted to travel did not exist for the Bourbons had given up on expensive works in order to have money. It was known that Grasse was in favour of Royalist cause at the time, yet Napoleon’s sudden appearance led to submission towards the Emperor. After this display of loyalty to the Emperor, Napoleon began to march confidently to Paris as the population were in favour of his cause. There was zero opposition until they reached a battalion on the road the fifth day after landing at Cannes. The commanding officer of said battalion refused to talk to Napoleon. Hearing this, The Emperor took matters into his own hands and walked straight at the battalion with his 100 soldiers treading behind slowly, ripped open his jacket, exposed his chest to the entire battalion and shouted “Let him that has the heart kill the Emperor”. Upon seeing this, the soldiers threw down their arms, tears in their eyes, and shouted “Vive l’Empereur!”

How about another repeat to replace an illegal and unpopular government?

Dave goes on to roll out a scenario involving a reclamation of power by the rightful POTUS (Trump) which parallels Napoleon’s. It has its appeal, I guess, but is unlikely in the extreme to happen. He includes several useful suggestions for what should happen after that, all of which are good.

Honestly, though, I’m pretty much all done with Trump, and I’m by no means alone in that. He had his contribution to make; if nothing else, Trump pulled off the lid to expose what a great big box of pure, undiluted nasty the US government has become. But now—love him or hate him, for better or for worse—his time has passed. From what I’m seeing, he’s lost a significant chunk of his core support at this point—so much of it, in fact, that I have to wonder if he’d even be re-elected in an honest election today. I seriously doubt he would, frankly.

4
1

Just another humiliating defeat

Everything old is new again.


Know what’s really gonna hurt, though? When some enterprising soul out there does some digging and establishes that the Kabul Chinook is the exact same damned one from the Saigon ’75 photo. Seeing as how the only hardware the “world’s strongest military” has that actually works as it’s supposed to is all fifty to seventy years old, that wouldn’t be any big surprise.

Ultimately, Antipresident Biden owns this embarrassing debacle lock, stock, and barrel—or his handlers do, rather. But let’s not be too quick to lay it ALL at his feet; as always, there’s plenty of blame to go around.

Doug Lute, a retired Army general who directed Afghan strategy at the NSC for Presidents George W. Bush and Barack Obama, told The New York Times that the puzzle for him “is the absence of contingency planning: If everyone knew we were headed for the exits, why did we not have a plan over the past two years for making this work?”


Big brass ones on this blame-shifting rumpswab, you gotta give him that much. Which would have to be Requirement One for the guy who directed Afghan strategy for No Such Agency, under not one but TWO (2) US presidents, to blandly declare himself mystified over the absence of contingency planning for a more dignified exit from the Graveyard of Empires. Now I’m certainly no expert, but it seems obvious enough that, as not only a high NSA mucky-muck and superspook but also a former US Army general, Lute might rightly be thought of as one of the folks officially responsible for the development of things like, ohhh, contingency plans, no? As in, that’s a critical part of your job description?

Additionally, it’s widely known that the US military has long made having a plan in place for EVERY imaginable contingency—including some pretty fanciful ones, at that—among its top priorities. Yet somehow—for a twenty-year quagmire which even not-particularly-attentive Americans could readily discern we were losing, the current “president” and his predecessor both having implicitly conceded defeat by announcing an imminent US disengagement and withdrawal—there was no planning done to prevent the anarchic, bloody rush for the exits we just witnessed.

As I said about Faux Jaux, though, so it is with this Lute loser: plenty of blame here to go around.


Steyn spreads the blame around even further, to some candidates richly deserving of their portion.

One of the depressing aspects of the Swamp is that everything becomes a racket – including even your armed forces. Look at that buffoon at top right, the guy who heads the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Thoroughly Modern Milley: that’s an awful lot of chest ribbonry for a nation that hasn’t won a war in three-quarters of a century. During his recent wokier-than-thou Congressional testimony on “white rage”, I wish someone would have asked Thoroughly Modern what they were all for:

Well, this is for Korea…Vietnam…This small ribbon’s for the Jimmy Carter helicopters-in-the-desert fiasco, because that went tits up far quicker than it usually takes…Here’s the Pentagon Female Empowerment Award I got for introducing Take Your Child Bride To Work Day to Jalalabad…This one’s from the Association of Non-Binary Staff Colleges for Most Transitions in a Single Battalion…Oh, and this most recent one is for getting into a Twitter spat over Tucker Carlson…

If you don’t have total contempt for Milley and the rest of the brass right now, you’re part of the problem.

I’m in favor of razing the Pentagon and salting the earth – or, at the very least, firing Milley and the massed ranks of “parade generals” (a useful Commonwealth term) and moving the few guys left to a new HQ in a strip-mall on the edge of Cleveland. The bigger your armed forces get, the more they become a racket – as the US-created “Afghan National Army” “300,000-strong” (and now down to, oh, twenty-seven maybe) has just conveniently demonstrated. As for where all the money wound up, the Taliban’s tour of American “ally” and former Afghan vice-president “Marshal” Dostum’s palatial spread provides a clue.

I’ve said for years, into the void of silence from Bill Kristol, Max Boot and the rest of the shock’n’awe crowd on the laughably misnamed “national-security right”, that the entire American way of war needs rethinking.

As for the enemy, the good news is that if your regime is attacked by America you’ll likely wind up with even more territory than you started with:

The Taliban now controls more of Afghanistan than it did before the US invaded in 2001.

That happens to be true: the only change effected over two decades of Nato occupation is that the Taliban now controls northern Afghanistan, which it didn’t do on October 7th 2001. But don’t worry; here’s how US Secretary of State Antony Blinken spent his Saturday night:

Very productive conversation with Canadian Foreign Minister @MarcGarneau about our efforts to reach a diplomatic solution in Afghanistan.

In the course of that “very productive” telephone call, the Taliban took three more cities.

America is not “too big to fail”: It’s failing by almost every metric right now. The world-record brokey-brokey-brokeness manifested by the current spending bills is only possible because the US dollar is the global currency. When that ends, we’re Weimar with smartphones.

Clearly, Chairman Xi and his allies occasionally muse on the best moment to yank the dollar out from under. If you were in Beijing watching telly today, would you perhaps be considering advancing those plans?

At this point, if they aren’t, then what the hell are they waiting for?

6

Question asked, question answered

Because you’re a bunch of goddamned liars, that’s why.

Why Don’t They Believe Us?
You’re struggling to understand where all this vaccine hesitancy comes from. Let me help you.

Imagine you’re a normal person. The year is 2016. Rightly or wrongly, you believe most of what you see in the media. You believe polls are broadly reflective of public opinion. You believe doctors and scientists are trustworthy and independent. You’re a decent, reasonable person who follows the rules and trusts the authorities.

You are proud to be doing your part. Thanks to you and millions of your fellow citizens, the first wave of the pandemic overwhelms certain hot spots, but it does not devastate the health care system at a national level. While thousands sadly die, you’ve helped to protect those around you.

Imagine your confusion as the same people who spent three months telling you not only that masks don’t work, but that there are several reasons you shouldn’t wear or purchase them, suddenly introduce mask mandates. We’re “following the science,” they tell you. This seems to make little sense, but a pandemic is no time for questions. And who knows, maybe our understanding of the science evolved?

As you cautiously go to the supermarket, you notice that masks have made people less likely to socially distance. You remember reading somewhere that bicycle helmets work similarly: They give the wearer more confidence, and the result is often more accidents and injuries, not fewer. “Silly people,” you say to yourself. “If only they would follow the experts.”

You turn on your TV and learn that shoppers at your local supermarket aren’t the only ones who have been ignoring the rules. Nancy Pelosi arranged for a salon, shutdown by government decree, to open privately for her—then publicly blamed the business owner for violating the lockdown. California Gov. Gavin Newsom is seen eating dinner at one of the most expensive restaurants in America with a large group of unmasked people indoors. In the U.K., Neil Ferguson, the epidemiologist whose projections were used as the basis for lockdowns, appears to have broken his own rules to get some action with his married lover. Prime Minister Boris Johnson’s chief adviser, Dominic Cummings, drove halfway across the country to ensure he had a better place to isolate. The journalists who berate him for this are later found to have attended an unmasked, indoor birthday party in breach of the rules. The lockdowns continue.

The same people who told you Brexit would never happen, that Trump would never win, that when he did win it was because of Russian collusion but also because of racism, that you must follow lockdowns while they don’t, that masks don’t work, that masks do work, that social justice protests during pandemic lockdowns are a form of “health intervention,” that ransacking African American communities in the name of fighting racism is a “mostly peaceful” form of protest, that poor and underserved children locked out of shuttered schools are “still learning,” that Jussie Smollett was a victim of a hate crime, that men are toxic, that there is an infinite number of genders, that COVID couldn’t have come from a lab until maybe it did, that closing borders is racist until maybe it isn’t, that you shouldn’t take Trump’s vaccine, that you must take the vaccine developed during the Trump administration, that Andrew Cuomo is a great leader, that Andrew Cuomo is a granny killer, that the number of COVID deaths is one thing and then another … are the same people telling you now that the vaccine is safe, that you must take it, and that if you don’t, you will be a second-class citizen.

Understand vaccine hesitancy now?

If you ask me, terms like “vaccine hesitancy,” along with our shiny new group-epithets “the vaccine-reluctant” and “vaccine-resistant” are some pretty weak tea. As a totally committed “Vaccine” Refusenik™ my own self, I am proudly, openly, and irreversibly Vaccine Hostile. Unfortunately for the increasingly restive Vaxx Nazis out there, people like me aren’t anywhere near as cowardly, pliable, and just plain stupid as they desperately need us to be, and that’s bound to mean big trouble for ’em before all’s said and done. Which calls for an embed of one of the absolute greatest soliloquys from one of the absolute greatest movies of all time:



Serenity has never been more relevant, or more apropos. Chock of full of rich, buttery goodness as it surely is, it’s truly mind-boggling that the creator of both film and TeeWee series (Firefly, for those poor deprived souls who have been dwelling off-planet for the past couple decades) is in fact a Mark-1, Mod-0 libtard. It Does. Not. Compute. Not for me, it don’t.

More inspirational quotes:

“People don’t like to be meddled with. We tell them what to do, what to think, don’t run, don’t walk. We’re in their homes and in their heads and we haven’t the right. We’re meddlesome.”
HUNTER ANSLEY WRYN – Young River

“Can I make a suggestion that doesn’t involve violence, or is this the wrong crowd for that?”
(during a fight)
NATHAN FILLION – Mal

“- The Operative: I believe in something greater than myself. A better world. A world without sin.
– Mal: So me and mine gotta lay down and die… so you can live in your better world?”
CHIWETEL EJIOFOR – The Operative
NATHAN FILLION – Mal

The Operative: Do you know what your sin is, Mal?
Mal: Ah, hell, I’m a fan of all seven. But right now, I’m gonna have to go with wrath.

Inara Serra: You came to the Training House looking for a fight.
Capt. Malcolm Reynolds: I came looking for you!
Inara Serra: The war’s over, Mal.
Capt. Malcolm Reynolds: You tellin’ me that cause you think I don’t know?
Inara Serra: I’ve just seen so many sides of you, I wanna make sure I know who I’m dealing with.
Capt. Malcolm Reynolds: I start fightin’ a war, I guarantee you’ll see somethin’ new.


To close things out, a few memorable stand-alones from Captain Malcolm Reynolds.

“My days of not taking you seriously are certainly comin’ to a middle.”

“My estimation is that…every man ever got a statue made of him was one kind of a son of a bitch or another.”

Someone ever tries to kill you, you try to kill ’em right back.”

“That sounds like the Alliance. Unite all the planets under one rule so that everybody can be interfered with or ignored equally.”

“Point of interest? Offering to shoot us don’t work so well as an incentive as you might imagine.”

“Half of writing history is hiding the truth.”

Yep, we are all Captain Mal now. Or we’d damned well better learn to be, at least. I don’t mean slow, either.

22
4

“Cruel and unusual”? Naaaaaah

Bring back the stocks. Among other needful things.

The coronavirus has given politicians new opportunities to project the power of government, and it has given us new opportunities to observe politicians breaking their own rules. Few things are as vile and contemptible as the hypocrisy of the ruling class.

We recall that House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-Calif.), during the lockdowns, had her hairdresser open up her shop for a private, maskless salon treatment. Senator Dianne Feinstein (D-Calif.) was photographed at Dulles airport in September without her mask, shortly before she flew out on her husband’s $50 million Gulfstream jet. John Kerry took his mask off on a plane, and he was flying commercial—first class. Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) was maskless on the streets of New York City last year, where he was gratifyingly heckled by a fearless New Yorker as his entire entourage and the press corps and even the heckler were wearing their masks. Rhode Island Governor Gina Raimondo (D) wore a mask for the interview in which she tried to explain why she was seen without a mask at a bar after closing bars and telling everyone to wear a mask. Michigan Governor Gretchen Whitmer (D) traveled to visit family in Florida after telling everyone to avoid nonessential travel. Austin, Texas Mayor Steve Adler (D) also told people to stay home—while on vacation in Cabo San Lucas (he apologized, and said he wouldn’t do it again, but there was this wedding he really needed to attend). And over the weekend, photos surfaced of Barack Obama’s lavish, huge, and non-socially distanced birthday celebration on Martha’s Vineyard, as the rest of the country is being threatened with a renewed mask mandate and other restrictions.

After listing several international examples of same, we come to a suggested remedy worthy of serious consideration.

All these incidents serve to remind us what an exceptionally luxurious, frivolous, out-of-touch, one-percent-of-the-one-percent life is led by the politicians who tell us to be patient with losing our businesses or being forced to stay home from work. Their hypocrisy, their abuse of political power, should be a crime. Perhaps not a capital crime. But it does deserve something beyond a fine.

Oh, I’m perfectly fine with making them capital crimes, myself; if nothing else, all possibility of recidivism would be eliminated. But hey, maybe that’s just me.

Politicians who abuse their power should be put in the stocks. Money means nothing to the super-rich and super-powerful, and they will never serve jail time. But Nancy Pelosi would long remember being forced to sit in the stocks for a day outside the hair salon she had opened just for her. Gavin Newsom might learn a thing or two from having to look up at the people who walk by him while he has his feet up outside the French Laundry.

The point of the stocks was to humiliate people—not as an end, but with the intention of reforming their behavior. In 2004, a mail thief was ordered to stand outside the San Francisco Post Office for eight hours wearing a sign that read: “I stole mail. This is my punishment.” The Ninth U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals upheld this sentence, inasmuch as the humiliation served the purpose of making the culprit a better citizen.

Nothing else would be so effective or work so quickly in cutting these political big shots down to the size of ordinary people. It would force power-abusing politicians to do what they hate most—be confronted by their voters. Perhaps any politician who serves more than two terms should be put in the stocks for one day every year as a reminder of the basic loathsomeness of his profession. It might be easier than passing national term limits.

Politicians should be compelled in every respect, as much as possible, to live like ordinary, average, people. When they abuse their power, they should be treated far worse than average people, because their power and responsibility is so much greater. Politicians seem to think they deserve special treatment—and they do: Set them in the stocks. Not for long. Just for as long as it takes for them to learn their lessons.

Again: not harsh enough to suit me, not by a long yard. If “let the punishment fit the crime” is to be our standard, then full weight must be given to the innumerable lives ruined, the businesses destroyed, the human misery created, and the fortunes lost or stolen because of the actions of the career-politician class. That can only mean that leaving ’em stocked and subject to public abuse and humiliation until they’re well and truly broken, in body, mind, and spirit, is the way to go. “Learning their lessons” will never be adequate to the task; they never will, it’s completely beyond them.

Personally, I think even the stocks are insufficiently “cruel and unusual” for such despicable toads. If we truly intend to balance the scales of justice as compensation to the victims for all the harm politicians have inflicted, we should also consider bringing back, say, the Brank:

The device was a metal cage or mask that enclosed the head, often with ridiculous adornments designed to humiliate its victim. In some towns, the Brank had a bell attached to its rear only to announce the presence of the victim who was instantly mocked by the people she “endangered” through gossip.

Many variants of the Brank appeared throughout the Middle Ages, some included spikes that penetrated the victim’s flesh when she spoke.

The duration of this torture could range from a few hours, to months. In some cases, the victim was left to die with the Brank; if she ever removed it, she’d be tortured with another method and sometimes killed.

NOW we’re getting somewhere. Among the many other options which also merit looking into would be the Rack, the Breaking Wheel, the Thumbscrews, and my all-time favorite, the Judas Chair:

Also known as the Judas Chair, the Chair of Torture was a terrible device of the Middle Ages. It was used until the late 1800’s in Europe.

There are many variants of the chair. They all have one thing in common: spikes cover the back, arm-rests, seat, leg-rests and foot-rests. The number of spikes in one of these chairs ranges from 500 to 1,500.

To avoid movement, the victim’s wrists were tied to the chair or, in one version, two bars pushed the arms against arm-rests for the spikes to penetrate the flesh even further. In some versions, there were holes under the chair’s bottom where the torturer placed coal to cause severe burns while the victim still remained conscious.

This instrument’s strength lies primarily in the psychological fear caused on the victims. It was a common practice to extract a confession by forcing the victim to watch someone else be tortured with this instrument.

The time of death greatly varied ranging from a few hours to a day or more. No spike penetrated any vital organ and the wound was closed by the spike itself which delayed blood loss greatly.

Ingenius, and just the thing to instill the proper fear into the malificent buggers. One of these placed in a prominent position in both Congressional chambers, the Oval Office, and the Supreme Court could go a long way towards rectifying our problems. One in every state’s Governor’s Mansion, situated so that every last elected and appointed bureauweasel had to walk right by the thing multiple times each and every working day, would probably fix the whole mess practically overnight.

After that, restore the lost art of pistols at dawn on the Field of Honor to full legal status and we’d have ourselves a civilization worthy of the name again.

4
4

Nurse Ratched Nation

It’s a madhouse.

Right now an alliance of government, big tech, corporations, and mass media rule over the United States of America. They frame the debates, enforce the law as they see fit, and persecute their enemies while rewarding their friends.

That they defend so many crazy propositions apparently leaves them unfazed. Every day brings some new boogey-man tale about the Wuhan Virus, some new tidbit, seemingly plucked from the wind, intended to cow ordinary citizens into obedience. Our masters also want to fire health care workers who refuse the vaccine, the same workers who were last year’s pandemic heroes. And while we’re being bullied and berated, hundreds of thousands of illegal aliens, many of them carrying the Wuhan virus, pour across our borders.

Meanwhile, the woke crowd trots out theories and ideas that would have left our grandparents rolling with laugher in the aisles. If you’re a man but think you’re a woman, then you’re a woman, and vice versa. So now “men” can have periods and babies. Defunding the police will lead to less crime. All white people are inherently racists. The National Anthem and the American flag are evil as well and should be replaced. Believing Christians are by nature sexual bigots.

In the novel and the film One Flew Over The Coocoo’s Nest, we meet Nurse Ratched, who has in her care mentally ill men. By the end of the story, we realize she’s a sadist, a tyrant sicker in the head than her patients, who she enjoys tormenting, making them feel small and keeping them helpless and dependent.

Our elites are Nurse Ratched en masse. If they truly cared about our country, they would seek to bring cheer rather than gloom-and-doom. They would become happy warriors, encouraging us to move ahead as a nation, to come together as a people, and to live in harmony.

And mostly, they would shut up, go away, and leave us to live our lives as we see fit.

The good news? Nurse Ratched finds herself opposed by the rebellious Randle McMurphy, who has feigned insanity so that he might spend his prison sentence in the mental hospital instead. He tries to make the other inmates feel more like men by playing poker with them, taking them on a fishing trip, and throwing a big party in the middle of the night.

To oppose the killjoys and doomsayers of our age, we need to become Randle McMurphy. 

Good enough, and I don’t disagree, really. But it might be well to remember how everything turned out56S for McMurphy in the end: electro-shocked, lobotomized into a Biden-like stupor, and finally smothered to death with a pillow. Maybe Chief Bromden would be a better role model to emulate.

1
1

The (rock) gods that fell to earth

You’re never too old to rock and roll?Like HELL you ain’t. Although this could well be related more to general dissipation and decadence than strictly age.

Vince Neil performed on his first concert after pandemic his solo band headlined the Boone River Valley Festival in Iowa over the weekend. From what we could heard, it’s probably for the better that MÖTLEY CRÜE‘s stadium tour with DEF LEPPARD has been postponed to next year.

Vince’s band opened with “Looks That Kill” before jumping into “Dr. Feelgood,” and though Neil’s vocals on “Dr. Feelgood” weren’t “that bad,” it definitely wasn’t one of his strongest performances.

But everything started to fall apart when Neil launched into a cover of the THE BEATLES’ “Helter Skelter.” Vince seemed to forget the words to the Beatles classic, while struggling to keep up with his band’s down-tuned instrumentals.

One fan wrote: “I was there front row seen Vince 8 times worst performance EVER he was reading the lyrics that his roadie taped on the floor while Vince left for a well need break. NO WAY he could do a stadium tour.”

And then, while performing “Girls Girls Girls,” Vince finally gave up addressing to the crowd: “Hey guys… I’m sorry, you guys. It’s been a long time playin’. My f*ckin’ voice is gone… uhh… we love you and we uhh… hope to see you next time, man. Thank you.”

A pic from the show of the new, suckier Bloated Vince onstage:

Great SCOTT. Didn’t anybody learn ANYTHING from the ghastly trainwreck Elvis finished up as? Anything at ALL? Double-threat superstar Chris Jericho—whose rockin’ ‘n’ ‘rasslin’ combo, Fozzy Osbourne, had the best band name in all history before they had to change it—had a little something to say about Neil’s sorry state.

Asked how he felt after seeing the footage of Vince’s gig, Chris said (as transcribed by BLABBERMOUTH.NET): “It’s disappointing because I think everyone is pulling for Vince and they’re pulling for MÖTLEY CRÜE. And it’s gonna be tough doing [‘The Stadium Tour’ in 2022 with DEF LEPPARD, POISON and JOAN JETT & THE BLACKHEARTS] because Joan Jett, I don’t know if you’ve seen her recently, she’s freakin’ awesome. And Bret Michaels — I was just talking about POISON the other day; they’re gonna steal the show. You’d better watch out for POISON, ’cause Bret Michaels is the best frontman out of all of those bands. And then DEF LEPPARD’s DEF LEPPARD; they do what they do. And MÖTLEY CRÜE, they’re gonna have to really step it up.

Meh. I never liked Dead Leper (which is what my mom actually, literally believed their name to be back in their glory days, s’truth) at all. Poison simply sucks ass, hard; always did, always will. I see no reason to expect improvement now that they’re all decades down the road. As for Joan Jett—well, I can’t quite consider her as being on the same plane with the other dudes, exactly. No slight intended, mind, she’s just…different. Different musical style; different approach; different draw; different attitude and presentation; different everything. Anyhoo, Jericho goes on:

“I’m disappointed to see Vince the way he is, because I think if he lost some weight and did some training and came out there and was in some semblance of shape, a) his voice will sound better just from that alone, and b) people would go, ‘Holy shit! Did you see Vince Neil? He looks great.’

“I think if he really wants to do it, he could do it,” Jericho continued. “But I don’t know if he does. And that’s the thing. And it’s up to him. And either way, it’s MÖTLEY CRÜE — people are gonna go, and they’re gonna love it. But to me, as a performer, I would take that as a challenge: ‘I’ve got one year. Let’s do this. It’s been long enough. Let’s do this for real. Let me call Phil Collen and Duff McKagan and other rock guys that have got themselves into great shape: ‘How did you do it?”

From what I heard said on the radio the other day, Dead Leper’s likewise-flabby frontman (Joe something or other, I think) pushed Neil into purchasing a shit-ton of workout gear and the two gone-to-seed rawk icons have been hitting the iron pile together, trying to get themselves fit enough to take the stage without embarrassing everybody present.

I wish ’em all luck, with the training and the tour both. Crue I DID rather like; they were one of the very best of the 80s wave of hair-farmer bands, in my opinion. Out of a horde of mediocrities, also-rans, and wannabes from that era, Motley Crue lived the sex-drugs-rock and roll lifestyle to the absolute fullest, at great personal cost to some of them. But that’s just the way the dice roll in that game sometimes, and they knew what they were signing up for when they took their seats at the table and ante’d up. Love ’em or hate ’em, either as musicians or as people, nobody can ever say the Crue weren’t entertaining as hell, both onstage and off.

2

Vaxx faxx baxx maxx reaxx

Truth, outing.

Covid vaccine maker Moderna received 300,000 reports of side effects after vaccinations over a three-month period following the launch of its shot, according to an internal report from a company that helps Moderna manage the reports.

That figure is far higher than the number of side effect reports about Moderna’s vaccine publicly available in the federal system that tracks such adverse events.

The reason for the gap is not clear. Moderna may simply still be processing the reports, though the number of reports about Moderna’s vaccine in VAERS from the first half of 2021 remained almost flat this week.

Moderna and IQVIA, the company that works with Moderna to handle the reports, did not return emails for comment.

No, I imagine they didn’t at that.

A person with access to the presentation provided screenshots of the relevant slide, which clearly explains the 300,000 side effect reports were received over “a three-month span” – not since the introduction of the vaccine in December – and differentiates between them and “medical information queries.”

The slide does not make clear what three months are covered but refers to the “global launch” of the vaccine, which essentially took place in the first quarter of 2021. Whether the slide is referring to January through March or April through June, the 300,000 figure dwarfs the number of reports in VAERS for the Moderna vaccine for either period.

A query of VAERS this morning reveals roughly 110,500 adverse events reports worldwide for Spikevax completed from January through March. All but 650 were in the United States. VAERS also includes 78,000 reports completed from April through June, including 71,400 in the United States.

Those figures overstate the number of reports Moderna has provided, because they include many reports from patients, physicians, and other health-care providers, as well as those from Moderna.

The one thing we can all be quite sure of is that any “citizen” seeking to obtain any factual truth from FederalGovCo—about anything, not just this particular shit circus—had better be strong, determined, and very, very patient. He should definitely be most vigilant about watching his six, too.

(Via WRSA)

3

A fragile peace

Looking on as, all around us, the collapse accelerates.

In the distant future, as Gibbon did, some historian will stick his wrinkled finger on a calendar date and pronounce “and on this date, the United States of America fell.” If by some miracle I were to witness the event, I would not be surprised if that date was already in our past. Historians have the benefit of hindsight, but also of not living in the aquarium they spend their lives researching. Some say Rome fell in 476, as a puppet emperor was deposed and sent into retirement. Did Roman citizens know this was an ending of things? No. To them the real emperor resided in Constantinople. Since they had first drawn breath, all power resided there, in New Rome. Old Rome had been a shadow for generations, and even in Italy, rule had long been pronounced from Ravenna, itself far less important than the economically powerful East.

Justinian the Great thought himself the Emperor of the Romans and ruled over the Mediterranean shores as tightly as many of his predecessors, more than half a century after the fall. What changed, then, on that day historians marked? Symbols changed; I suppose. We see discontinuity, but there was none. We see change, but such change was gradual, the product of generations.

The point is essentially arbitrary. A finger found its way to a date on a calendar, one small event in a sequence of centuries, and thus was it pronounced: Rome has fallen.

Look out of your window and see urban gentrification, perhaps. Or peaceful suburbia. Perhaps you see farm fields, forests, or the unbroken concrete towers of the projects – those never particularly peaceful, but no worse, perhaps, than you recall in your youth. America outwardly looks like America.

On the Internet, however, it is every cyberpunk dystopian hellhole ever conceived. And worse, perhaps. The things that lie beneath on Twitter should scare anybody.

A video was posted the other day of two thieves conducting an armed robbery. One of the victims pulled out a handgun and shot one of the thieves. You could tell the affiliation of every commenter. Their cultural and moral values were so diametrically opposed that nothing could unite them. To the Leftist, this was a great tragedy, and the victim was evil for killing some presumably poor person for the crime of attempting to feed themselves and resist systemic oppression. To the Rightist, the armed robber had forfeited his life the moment he drew that weapon and attempted to steal someone else’s possessions. The shooter was to be commended for eliminating such a clearly deficient specimen.

In a way, it does not even matter which one was right, though I suspect my readers would have a strong opinion. What matters is the diametrically opposed viewpoints, the hatred and vitriol thrown back and forth between people who are theoretically of the same nation, the same cultural stew. Of course, they are not of the same milieu, not truly. We know that now. Was it always this way, and the Internet just exposed it? I do not know. Maybe.

Regardless, there is no peace beyond the wifi.

Yet the fragile peace – with its occasional flare-ups – that holds in the real world cannot hold forever. What will happen if that dam ever bursts? If all the animus, hatred, and vitriol of social media crosses into reality?

Driving down the street, look at the signs. MAGA signs never taken down. Declarations that this house or that house believes in the core tenets of Progressive Faith. Screaming matches over mask and vaccination policies. The peace in the real world stands on the edge of a knife. Everyone fears to cross the line, to admit openly what they know privately: these are not my countrymen. These are not my people. I do not like them, and they never liked me. They do not share my values, and I do not share theirs. We have nothing in common.

What happens when all pretenses are stripped away?

Someday, the historians will look back on our history, and they will find a moment – perhaps one as seemingly-insignificant as the deposition of a minor puppet ruler in Italy was to the story of Rome – and they will say “this is the day America was cleaved in two.”

Perhaps those same historians will say of the Cold War that both the USSR and the USA fell, the former due to economics and the latter due to cultural infighting. Perhaps like the ancient fall of Sassanid Persia and the diminishing of Byzantium. Or perhaps it will be seen as something entirely different. We live in the aquarium they will someday comment on. None of us will live to know.

Regardless, there is no singular America, not anymore. Only the outward appearance still exists – and only so long as the waning pretenses of peace last in the real world. Not forever, I imagine. Perhaps not even very long.

Those “waning pretenses of peace” hold solely because Real Americans, some unknown percentage of them at any rate, still want it to. It will last not one minute past the moment when the last thread of their patience has snapped, the last tatterdemalion remnant of their natural optimism and restraint has been ripped to pieces. And then, it’s Katy bar the door: open season on shitlibs, no bag limit, no ammo restrictions. Weapons free, and happy hunting!

The really remarkable thing to me is how the Collectivists, whether from arrogance or blind stupidity, insist so mulishly on keeping the pedal firmly to the metal in spite of absolutely everything. It’s as if they’re completely unaware of Dead Man’s Curve looming closer and closer just down the road, and that they’re already going much too fast to negotiate it safely and avoid a horrific crash. Human civilization has traveled this same road many times before; its hazards are known, the roadmap accurate, specific, and crystal clear. They KNOW what comes next, what has always come next. Yet still, they persist. It’s mind-blowing, is what it is.

2
1

Spark up!

You goddamned sickly, frail-ass nonsmoker feebs are Killing Grandma.

Occasionally I train courses on using self-contained breathing apparatus for fire fighting and the like, known as SCBA or simply BA in industry. The course is a lot of fun to teach, particularly as I drill my students in a way that inspires some of them to regularly ask me what I did in the military – (NOTHING. I was never in the military but maybe I should have been. But the way the world’s going there’s probably plenty of opportunities coming up.)

One of my little joys in that course is when we get to the subject of air consumption rates. For example, if you’re unfit you will use more air than the fit guy. If you’re scared you will use more air than the relaxed guy. And if you’re throwing gas cylinders over a fence to stop them from exploding in a fire then you’ll chew through a 6 litre 300bar cylinder in about nine minutes flat. Don’t ask me how I know that.

And then I ask the question of the room – is anyone here a smoker? And there is the inevitable groan and then the smokers will raise their hands, some sheepishly, but most with a look on their face that goes something along the lines of, “we get it, you’re about to tell us that we’re doomed because we smoke, blah blah blah, we don’t care anymore.”

And that’s when I drop the bomb and inform them that smokers in general have better air consumption rates because they have habituated their lungs to use less air. Talk about a room perking up! You see the sheer joy in their faces. There’s nothing like getting a room full of tough offshore workers who smoke on your side with one sentence. Well, maybe there is but I need to get out more.

Heh. Well, these days we’re one of the very last minorities that it’s considered not just okay but positively virtuous to persecute. But here’s the really fun part.

I found various parts of this interesting but none more than one of the proposed cures for the S1 spike protein.
Nicotine. Who told you the other day that smoking is cool?

Ivermectin kills the virus, Statins prevent the S1 protein presenting Monocytes from attaching to your cells, and several drugs (including nicotine) can induce monocyte apoptosis. When the S1 presenting Non-Classical monocytes undergo apoptosis, the S1 protein is destroyed, and the nano clotting, inflammation, etc. go away. This is also why smokers have been shown to test positive for COVID symptoms 80% less than the general population, the nicotine effectively renders them immune to the effects of the S1 protein, and thus most of COVID’s symptoms.

Well, how about that then? Poor smokers have been maligned for over twenty years as the outright lepers of our so civilized societies. Now it turns out that smoking is not just a nice hit, not just a great brain stimulant and not just downright cool; it’s also positively brimming with health features.

Just one more positive that I can add to my BA course next time with the lads. Pretty soon those nasty medical companies will be begging us smokers to come back. Nah, she’ll be right, ya dropkicks. We don’t need ya. We’re smokers.

Bold mine, and completely delicious if you ask me. I seem to recollect having mentioned that 80 percent statistic here myself some months back, but don’t feel like looking around for it right now. No matter; it’s time for a smoke break, folks.

(Via WRSA)

1

Serendipity is a thing

It’s been quite the week for serendipitous coincidences around here, seems like. First, after having brought up cousin Reggie in the post on legendary Naval aviator Capt Dale Snodgrass, I was poking around the ol’ Wayback Machine just for grins when what to my wondering eyes did appear but this:

Big fun comin’

At last it can be told: I’m posting this from Strike Fighter Central, where I am now comfortably ensconced in my palatial suite at the BOQ, Bldg 460, #B241, NAS Oceana. Tomorrow morning Cousin Reggie will formally assume command of VFA-83 – the Rampagers. Tomorrow night the band will be doing a show to celebrate Reg’s change-of-command ceremony at the O-club across the street, within easy staggering distance of my lovely rooms. Reggie will be cordially invited onstage to play some guitar with us, but only after I’m certain he’s plastered enough to be rendered incapable of showing my ass up. This is going to be soooo much fun, folks. Having a great time so far – wish you were beer.

Tomorrow: photos!

And photos there were, in the two follow-up posts* just above that one. Also happily included in the Internet Archive page are all the comments, including a lengthy riposte from none other than Regbo himself. There are a good few from Reg’s fellow fighter jocks as well, all of which were as enjoyable for me to read as they were unexpected. The photos I was especially happy to see, since somehow or other I had lost most of them during the Great Migration from my long-deceased iMac onto the one I’m using now.

Then came another very pleasant and unlooked-for surprise when, in the comments to the other night’s post on Billy Beck, the dude pops up in the comments section. Flabbergasted doesn’t even begin to cover it, I assure you.

Which brings us right ’round to this.

The Trump years were a thing to behold. I’ve said many times that he’s a damned fool.

The day he came down the escalator, I knew he could win. When the nominations were cinched at him and Field Marshal Rodham, I knew that he would. I saw him as the answer to Rick Santelli’s original “tea party” rant on CNBC in 2009 (which I saw when he did it, live; I was watching CBNC that hour). She was running a strictly Old School Demshevik campaign in the first decade of real American Idiocracy and hadn’t sunk quite far enough below the level of, say, Hubert Humphrey-type hackery to really herd-up the New Lumpen.

Trump is a New York City lout. He’s a gamer, which is naturally because he grew up in that real estate “market” (if we want to call it that), along with everything that goes into it: the mob and the unions and every variety of government from City Hall to Albany to Washington. So; anyone who understands, for instance, coercive market distortions (von Mises & Hayek, ladies & gentlemen) and “the politics of pull” (Ayn Rand) can easily account for certain aspects of his ethics.

The thing is; he still has a gut-level appreciation of and love for America. Even if America isn’t really him, he’s still really American.

He went wading all that energy of his into D.C. with an attitude like he could deal with those people in dollars, as if that sort of power were the coin of that realm. He didn’t understand that it was a very different sort of power: the well-oiled and loaded .45 at the bottom of every stack of government paperwork, and everything that means.

For instance: he didn’t really understand (if he ever really even imagined) intelligence tradecraft; the applied power of the state in defense of itself.

When I first heard the term, “deep state,” I thought, “That’s pretty good. I wish I’d thought that up.” I soon saw it lensed against the left, which is arguably fair enough (e.g.; in the context of the five year-long coup attempt manifest in all the transparent commie horseshit about him and Russia). What I had mind, however, was the whole state, per se. Like; the entire administratum comprised in all the alphabureaus and their career apparat that’s virtually never subject to electoral politics, even if their appointed chiefs come & go.

Trump didn’t have the sense to take a chainsaw to that much of it, and spent a lot of his time in running fights with it. Now, he likes to fight, but that was a vicious waste of the time that America had left.

His spending was profligate (but now paling into shadow under what’s going on today).

One important thing came in his consequence: he scared the living shit out of the commies. They now have to make some really big plays to get their whole wagon back in the lane of trans-nationalist “transforming of America”. This is, for instance, why we’re seeing the whole disaster at the border: they’re importing voters. Stealing the 2020 election was an emergency maneuver. Pretty well-done, but maybe not well-enough to prevent it from going down correctly in honest history. We’ll see.

In any case, the lines that I drew back in the day are far deeper and one can watch America separating like a microscopic cell budding into halves. “The pace of this thing is picking up.”

Communist China is a monster.

I see anti-lockdown riots all over Europe which, dammit, is actually sort of encouraging.

I don’t know, man. I just hate it all.

People in my generation are unique in all of human history. I saw the peak of human culture: born in America in the 1950’s. Although he had the same outlook as me, my father didn’t see the backside — over the hill — of the American ascent. When he died in 2003, it was all still just barely coasting near the peak. The children, conversely, will never know what it was really like: what got lost.

I’ve seen the whole rise and fall; what it really could have been, and what it’s come to.

I saw some wag or other describe it as “like the fall of Rome, but with cell phones.” Nobody else will ever see anything like it.

That, of course, is but another jolt of hi-watt insight and analysis in the inimitable Billy Beck style from the aforementioned comments, to which I can come up with not a single word that would be worth adding.

* All the pics are good, but the one you really don’t want to miss features myself and Reg onstage, each of us sporting a female undergarment atop our respective head for reasons I was far too drunk then to be able to recall now. In fact, I have to wonder where the hell those thongs even came from in the first place; there were in fact a handful of female swabbies in attendance, but why they would have agreed to doff their delicates for use as decorative headgear I couldn’t say.

Man, what a night that was.

1

Prison nation

The land once known far and wide as a nation of cast-offs and convicts is now back behind bars.

Australia has deployed hundreds of soldiers to Sydney to help enforce a Covid lockdown.

A Delta outbreak which began in June has produced nearly 3,000 infections and led to nine deaths.

Australian Defence Force soldiers will undergo training on the weekend before beginning unarmed patrols on Monday.

But many have questioned whether the military intervention is necessary, calling it heavy-handed.

The lockdown – in place until at least 28 August – bars people from leaving their home except for essential exercise, shopping, caregiving and other reasons.

Soldiers will join police in virus hotspots to ensure people are following the rules, which include a 10km (6.2 miles) travel limit.

State Police Minister David Elliott said it would help because a small minority of Sydneysiders thought “the rules didn’t apply to them”.

Information provided by health officials indicates the virus is mainly spreading through permitted movement.

The Australian Lawyers Alliance, a civil rights group, called the deployment a “concerning use” of the army in a liberal democracy.

Oh, is that what you think you are? Because you look like something else entirely from here. Then again, though, here in AINO (America In Name Only), we have precious little room to talk these days.

As a GFZ commenter helpfully points out: nine (count ’em, 9) deaths…in a city of five million. Yep, this is one Heap Big Scary Death Plague, all right. Speaking of GFZ, via whom etc:

Can we liberate a Western nation from tyranny in which the people would be grateful for our sacrifice?

That would be nice.

Go down under, shoot some commies, hand out some rifles to the locals, drink a beer and have a barbie.

Sure, some of the Australian Leftists will be all pissy, but given what I’ve seen of the Sydney riots, the rest of the country would embrace us like the Belgians did after Market Garden.

Let ’em get all the “pissy” they want to; just gun ’em down in job lots and get on with your day, as is the proper way to deal with all Leftists, everywhere. It ain’t as if Down Under shitlibs have many options when it comes to shooting back, y’know.

1

“Drive them fast to their tomb”

Vanderleun waxes poetic, concluding on a Dickensian note.

Their infernal machine, the massmind, lops and trims the green upstarts, the single emerald sprouts, the high stalk topped with the blue cornflower; lops it all down to the level of their dull brown massmind. Down there in the dull damp, down among the dead men, their massmind festers and they love to inhale the musk of its dank decay.

Their minds are the godless grave of words muttered by Mao, harangues by Hitler that were gargled by Goebbels, and limned by Lenin from which no life or liberty can ever hope for escape and resurrection.

Their secular “green” religion has its bad rap but no hymns.

Their fantasy of a “fairer world” will become their grandchildren’s small and shrunken lives on a nightmare planet where all men, finally equalized, will live like dung beetles on the desolate rubble of what once was.

They call themselves “progressives” and flatter themselves that their thoughts and actions are “revolutionary” when they are as reactionary as any lynch mob that can be reanimated from history.

They chain themselves deep in the pit of Let’s Pretend and celebrate their servitude by bending heaven and earth to get you down in the hole that they’re in.

They believe that the individual should become one with the massmind and that the massmind should worship its apotheosis — that single living demon who best reflects their ossified visions on which the anointing oil has long since dried to a brown crust of thought.

They are the monarchists of the masses. They seek a state in which the head that wears the crown may change but where the crown itself grows forever larger.

Damned well put, Gerard.

2

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