True colors

Even in the great Repubic of Texas, RINOs gotta RINO.

Tonight Texas Governor Greg Abbott, a “Republican,” issued a despicable and false statement smearing Gab as an “anti-semitic platform that quote “has no place in Texas.” This is the same Gov. Abbott who just five days ago said he was “taking a stand against Big Tech censorship.”

Gov. Abbott’s statement will likely not sit well with the nearly 800,000 Texans who have visited Gab.com in the past 24 hours alone. What is even more strange is that the Texas GOP itself is on Gab with a verified account.

Gab is not an “anti-semitic” platform. We protect the political speech of all Americans, regardless of viewpoint, because in this age of cancel culture nobody else will. That means unpopular viewpoints may be found on the site.

The enemies of freedom smear us with every name in the book because they hate America and they hate free speech. It’s a shame to see a GOP politician fall for this trap when conservative values are under sustained attack all over the country.

People smear Gab for the kinds of people we host. They never smear Gab for the kinds of people we ban. That’s because we don’t have political tests for our users. Ban decisions are made on an individual basis. Our test for political speech is whether it is legal or not. Pretty simple rule.

My own rule of thumb is even simpler: anything that can be expressed verbally, in print, typed, or scratched into the face of a rock—no matter how distasteful, obnoxious, or offensive—is protected speech, and shall remain strictly unmolested by official authority. Any government that fails to live up to that standard is one that has no claim on being a bastion of freedom of speech. Period, full stop, end of story.

On the other hand, I must admit that my longtime free-speech absolutism has been sorely tested in recent years. In fact, I now find myself in favor of at least two exceptions to my own rule, having concluded that Islam and Communism ought to be proscribed in any society otherwise dedicated to liberty purely as a matter of self-preservation. It’s a painful bind to be in intellectually, but in light of the existential destruction to the garden of liberty wrought by these noxious weeds in every time and place they’re permitted to flourish, I can see no better option than to throttle them early, before they fully take root.

There are many Jewish Gab users and customers, whose lawful speech we protect with just as much zeal as we would protect the lawful speech of any person of any faith, ethnicity, or creed.

This is what America used to be like: a place where The People could speak freely regardless of their faith, ethnic background, or beliefs. This is the America Gab is fighting to preserve.

Apparently Gov. Abbott doesn’t agree.

Andrew Torba
CEO, Gab.com
March 10th, 2021
Jesus is King

Apparently he does not, which comes as a disappointment after his announcement lifting all state Fauxvid19 restrictions. Sadly, his duplicitous attack against GAB comes as no real surprise either, considering several other dubious things he’s said and done as governor. Nobody’s perfect, of course, and to expect anything even approaching perfection from any professional politician is the mark of a purblind fool. Even so, support for freedom of speech is about as fundamental as it gets, a complete gimme for anyone claiming to be a conservative.

With this maladroit betrayal of core principle Abbott has let the mask slip pretty badly, exposing his two faces in all their self-serving, double-dealing ugliness. Texans ought to see to it that he pays dearly for it, lest venomous belly-crawlers like Mitt Romeny begin to feel entirely too at home there and infest the place completely.

The Daily Donnybrook

Welcome to Ye Olde Colde Furye Blogge’s shiny new open-comments thread, where y’all can have at it as you wish, on any topic you like. Do note that the official CF comments policy remains in effect here, as enumerated in the left sidebar. All new posts will appear below this one. There will be blood…

Publick Notice

Expect blogging to be sparse over the next several days, as I have just received some intriguing emails notifying me that not only are beautiful, sexy Russian girls acutely interested in meeting me, but Asian ones are as well. Apparently there’s an unexpected shortage of old, sickly, unattractive, and penurious American white males afflicting those locales, which has led to quite a surge in demand. As you can readily imagine, I’m going to need to spend some time investigating this most welcome development, in case my luck has finally turned.

KIDDING. I’m only kidding here, folks. Now, as is reputedly said in Hell: Coffee break’s over, everybody back on your heads.

Fight the Power!

Pegging away at the insidious Eye in the Sky.

Drone-bottle.png

Kinda small and fuzzy-looking, I know. Hopefully you greybeards will be able to read it okay, but for anyone whose eyes just can’t get that squinty, here’s what it says:

***Attention Wayne Hills Residents***

Please stop throwing beer bottles at the drones. They are property of Portsmouth Police Department and they run surveillance on the property for your protection. We repeat, STOP KNOCKING DOWN OUR ANTI-DRUG ACTIVITY DRONES!

Heh. Yeh, yeh, yeh; suck it, espionage-boy.

However “too little, too late” in coming it may be, as far as I’m concerned there can never be a bad time to start cocking the snook at the surveillance/police state Authority, any way one can come up with to do it. These two are sterling examples of that good old red-blooded American FUCK YOU! spirit—the spirit of for-real resistance, a thing we don’t see anywhere close to enough of these dark days—and the CF chapeau is humbly doffed to ’em for this inspiring display of it. Verily, this anonymous couple is an example to us all.

Plus, as Glasser says in his caption: beer bottles are cheaper than shotgun shells.

Cognitive dissonance? Or just plain old stupidity?

One of those can be fixed. The other…can’t.

Last year, like many other Democrats, I took action. I campaigned, responded to social media misinformation and donated money to candidates. I celebrated when Joe Biden was announced as the winner of the presidency and when Democrats took back the Senate.

I also wrote a book to remind myself — and all of us — that honesty was something that still mattered, despite having the most dishonest person imaginable leading our country. But now that Donald Trump is out of office, I’m facing a painful truth: The man I prayed would become president could sign a piece of legislation that would kill my career as a freelance writer.

It’s the strangest political cognitive dissonance I’ve ever experienced.

You’re being far too generous with yourself there with that “cognitive dissonance” diagnosis, sweetie. No worries, though, you can always fucking learn to code, right?

Right now, my party is pushing a bill called the Protecting the Right to Organize Act, or the PRO Act, in an ostensible bid to help gig workers exploited by employers who won’t give them health care coverage and other benefits. But because of a problematic clause in the bill, it’s far more con than pro for me. The bill could end my ability to be my own boss, set my own hours and otherwise live the American worker’s dream.

Interesting. Despite being a Democrat-Socialist—even admitting that you celebrated when your crime syndicate masquerading as a political party stole an election and installed a corrupt, senile drooltard as pRetend pResident—you nonetheless seem very taken aback by certain home truths that are glaringly obvious to sane people. Let me try to enlighten you on just a few of those.

  • “Honesty” is the absolute LAST thing that matters to your professed party
  • The only thing your party gives a tinker’s damn about is power
  • Your party’s politicians care not a whit about any trauma or tragedy their own pursuit of power might inflict, on you or anybody else
  • The actions of your politicians are governed exclusively by expediency and effect; for them integrity, principle, patriotism, and empathy are NEVER of even minimal concern
  • Your politicians, though bloated with arrogance and conceit, are completely clueless as to how national economies function. Their vanity assures them that vastly complex and intricate economic systems can be successfully micromanaged, in defiance of historical confirmation of their total inability to manage anything other than economic collapse and destruction—confirmation so voluminous as to be beyond calculation

That “cognitive dissonance” clearing up any for ya? Or are you, as I strongly suspect, still stuck on stupid?

Beyond that, all my colleagues and I have been hearing from Democrats in response to our concerns are talking points about how they are fighting for American workers. Don’t I count as an American worker?

Closer, but not there yet. Another hint: To them, you don’t count at all.

I know what I believe in — things like an end to systemic racism, better support for families and children, increased voting rights and equity in schools. Yet now I find myself looking at Democrats’ slogans and questioning my assumption that their bills truly help the people who need it most.

The dawn struggles valiantly to break, yet somehow darkness persists.

I recognize that I’ve bought into broad narratives about the power of the people, usually pushing the most progressive-minded, feel-good policies that have easily repeatable language about things like the “dignity of work.” But when you’re the one whose work is suddenly threatened, it’s a bit more complicated.

Yep, life is like that. Ain’t it a cast-iron bitch?

I’m still holding on to my idealistic Leslie Knope-ish tendencies. I still believe good ideas and earnest people will be heard. But right now, it feels like I’m being sacrificed for support from unions — the major interest group pushing this legislation. And given the vitriol my colleagues and I are getting on Twitter, like repeatedly being called “scabs,” I don’t think there’ll be any holiday cards this year.

I’m not looking for sympathy.

You may rest assured that I’ll not be offering any.

After all, I’m a well-paid professional with plenty of lucky breaks to my name. What I am looking for is to be heard by the party I always believed best appreciated the breadth and width of America.

Oh for God’s sake will you get a fucking clue. Instead of stubbornly “looking to be heard” by a party that isn’t listening, the thing you really need to be looking for is the intestinal fortitude to admit that what you “always believed” was patently false—a deliberate, cynical deception used for purposes of manipulation. After that you can move on from there, maybe. I wish you luck and all, but I won’t be holding my breath waiting for it.

Beer milkshake!

In the comments to last night’s Marcia Ball post, kennycan says:

Actually, now that I looked it up, it turns out the first video Mike posted is actually a Dr. John (Mac Rebennack) written song.

I didn’t know that myself, but it seems likely enough. Point is, that put me in mind of a truly wonderful movie from 1982: Cannery Row, one of my personal all-timers. The movie tanked commercially and got at best a lukewarm critical reception—a combination offering the most condemnatory statement imaginable regarding the abysmal depths to which American taste and discernment in cinematic entertainment have plummeted.

The movie was a sort of cinematic mashup of two John Steinbeck tomes, Cannery Row and its sequel Sweet Thursday, with a stellar cast that included Nick Nolte, Debra Winger, Frank McRae, and M Emmett Walsh, among others. John Huston lent his dulcet, honey-voiced tones as narrator, and the soundtrack was muchly enlivened by the presence of…you guessed it…Dr John the Night Tripper.



Amusing coinkydink: the above music is a frenetic slice of boogie-woogie heaven titled Mac’s Boogie, composed and performed by…you guessed it…Mac Rebennack, a/k/a Dr John. In the film’s big party scene, Rebennack’s masterful piano work is cinematically portrayed by M Emmett Walsh’s character, whose name just happens to be…you guessed it…”Mac.” For reasons I won’t pretend to comprehend, nobody ever released a Cannery Row soundtrack album, despite the movie being liberally strewn with rich buttery musical goodness throughout. Mac’s Boogie is available elsewhere, thankfully.

Interesting trivia item:

Raquel Welch was originally cast as Suzy. She was fired after five days of filming. She allegedly took too long to get ready each day. Welch then sued the MGM studio for wrongful termination and in the mid-1980s won getting a multi-million dollar settlement. Turner Entertainment had to do the pay-out as by that time they were the owners of MGM.

Do please understand that I love me some Raquel, really I do. But I cannot for the life of me imagine her in the role of Suzy DeSoto. Winger was note-perfect for it, inhabiting the character as naturally her own skin. Whatever her appeal—admittedly, she has it in buckets—Raquel would have been just sinfully wrong.

Ah well, enough of all that. If you like smash-bang shoot-em-ups; interminible car chases and/or fight scenes; a surfeit of explosions; gangsta-rap glorification; blood ‘n’ gore galore; fart jokes and other juvenilia; zombies, monsters, and/or comic-book superheroes; or great big titties bouncing around in the open air, then I’m afraid Cannery Row is probably not going to be your cup of tea. If, on the other hand, you lean more towards a fine story well-told; lovely cinematography; an excellent score; a light, breezy overall tone with some truly funny bits; and a knockout punch of a plot twist at the end that, trust me, you will NOT see coming—well, you can’t do much better than this overlooked, underrated gem of a movie.

If you see this movie and don’t care for it, don’t tell me. I wouldn’t want such a disgraceful revelation compelling me to adjust my estimation of anybody here; I’d prefer to just remain in the dark about your appalling lack of character, thanksveddymuch. Heck, Nolte’s facial expression in the scene referred to in my post title is worth the price of admission all by itself.

Is NOTHING sacred?

Last night’s blasphemy was the persecution of Pooh. Tonight another outrage has been committed, this time against Sinatra’s hallowed old standard.

With apologies to John Kander and Fred Erb, the composer and lyricist respectively of Sinatra’s classic, New York, New York. It is time to update that tune:

Start spreading the news, they’re leaving en masse
Don’t want to live in it: New York, New York
This U Haul Truck rental, is pricey as hell
But it will get me out of it: New York, New York
I want to wake up in a city without a mask,
Go out on the town and not have to ask.
The big city blues, are melting away
I’ll make a brand new start, away from New York
Can’t stand the crime and fear, I want anywhere but here
Good bye to you, New York, New York

Okay, okay, I admit that’s pretty funny, actually. The mirth heightens still further, blossoming uproariously with the report that follows:

Yes kids, the Big Apple is rotten to the core and folks are abandoning it–at least those with the case to bail out. But this phenomena is not confined to New York City, which has been brutalized by the inept, murderous rule of Governor Cuomo Bin Lyin and Mayor Bill “the Commie” DeBlasio. Other major cities, such as San Francisco, are also seeing residents flee liked panicked passengers on the Titanic frantic to grab the nearest lifeboat.

San Francisco saw an exodus of residents during the coronavirus pandemic, with the net number of exits increasing 649% in 2020, according to a new report published by the California Policy Lab….Cori Sarno Villacres talks on Oct. 21, 2020, about how she and her family didn’t feel comfortable or safe in California — even feeling bullied for their political preferences. They left their life in Sacramento last April to start anew in Idaho.

As a rule, my own inclination is to view that with an extremely jaundiced eye—if only thanks to the “fundamental transformation” I’ve personally seen wrought on my own hometown by the Snowbird influx. But Johnson says there’s reason for optimism:

Will the arrival of northerners from deep blue cities be accompanied by the same stupid political crap that ruined New York City and San Francisco. Possible but I doubt it.

What I am seeing in Florida reminds me of the flood of migrants from the former Soviet Union and Eastern bloc states when they were under the Communist thumb. Those migrants wanted to eschew the politics that were practiced in their former authoritarian homes. I took a pistol class with a couple recently arrived from San Francisco. I asked the demur 70 year old Grandmother why she and her husband left San Francisco. He reply was swift and succinct (and I’m quoting verbatim): “IT’S A SHIT-HOLE.

She went on to comment that she and her husband were taking the pistol class before purchasing a firearm to defend their new home. She loved the freedom of Florida.

Bad politics and bad policies have consequences. People in the United States still have the freedom of movement and are voting now with their feet. America is being realigned and I suspect the Democrat failure in the major cities will become more evident, not less. And the success of sane leaders like Ron DeSantis will remind voters why it is vital to cast a ballot for someone dedicated to upholding the principles of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Well, I dunno, Larry; we’ll find out whether the refugees fleeing the urban shitlib shitrapies have learned anything soon enough, I guess. Whatever the case may be on that, nice work on the New York, New York revamp there, buddy.

Poohsecution

You’re gonna get a fair trial, followed by a first-class hanging.

A solemn silence turned collective gasp in the District of Columbia Woke Circuit courtroom as two bailiffs entered the door beside the jury box with the small cream-colored bear suspended between them, his stumpy hind legs wheeling fruitlessly to seek purchase in the unavailing air. The Queen of Hearts, presiding, banged her gavel as the little bear was seated at the table for the defense beside another rather small, darkish, furtive figure.

The Queen of Hearts peered over her half-glasses at the defendant and snarled, “State your full name and residence.”

“Winnie-the-Pooh,” the defendant said. “From the Hundred Acre Wood.”

“What is your personal pronoun?”

The bear looked perplexed. “Oh, bother,” he said. “Nobody I know has such a thing?”

“Of course they do,” the Queen said.

“Perhaps it’s ‘the’,” the bear said.

“That is a definite article, not a pronoun!” the Queen barked. “Are you an imbecile?”

“I’m not sure.  Maybe it’s ‘dear’”—

“That’s enough out of you!” the Queen said. “And let’s have no more impertinence! Do you have counsel?”

“Why, yes,” the bear said. “Mr. Kafka, who is seated beside me.”

“You are mistaken,” the Queen said. “That is a cockroach seated beside you, and the court is displeased to see it. Bailiff, please remove that disgusting cockroach from my court.”

Mr. Kafka, gesticulating in protest with all six arms and legs, had to be dragged out.

“First witness!” the Queen screeched. “Counsel for the prosecution….”

“Calling Uncle Remus,” said the prosecutor, Andrew Weissmann, famous for his exploits in the Enron case and with The Mueller Team in the old Russia collusion days.

An elderly gentleman-of-color with white beard and a kindly face limped forward and took the witness stand.

“Do you know this bear?” Weissmann asked.

“I knows a Brer B’ar,” Uncle Remus said. “But he a black b’ar. Dishyere one a white b’ar.”

“Exactly!” Weissmann said. “Dismissed.”

“Dat all?” Uncle Remus asked.

“It’s plenty,” Weissmann retorted and smirked at the jury, composed of members from the United Federation of Teachers, the Southern Poverty Law Center, and Antifa, who all nodded amongst themselves.

“A white bear!” Weissmann repeated for emphasis, shaking his head. “And not a polar bear, either. A white bear. From England. Think about it…!”

The jurors emitted growls of opprobrium.

Alas for poor Pooh; like so many unassuming, innocuous Normals out there, he never knew what hit him. Kafka himself would be paralyzed with stupefied disbelief at how Kafkaesque the world has become.

Ulterior motive

See, I KNEW there had to be another reason.

Texas Removes Mask Mandate To Scare All The Californians Away
AUSTIN, TX—Governor Greg Abbott of Texas has just lifted the mask mandate and is allowing business to return to 100% capacity. The Governor explains that in these trying times, extreme measures must be taken to stop the spread of Californians into Texas and to scare them off from ever wanting to return. 

“The last thing we need is a bunch of sissies from California moving to our beautiful state of Texas and screwing everything up and turning the state blue!” said Governor Abbott during a Lubbock Chamber of Commerce event. “Too many Californians have entered our state. Too many ridiculous liberal ideas have already been proposed. This must end. It’s time to open Texas 100%.”

Governor Abbott continued, “We believe that by removing the mask requirement that all of the Californians will flee in terror, restoring our state to its former glory. As soon as they see the joy and hear the laughter of our citizens returning to normal life, they’ll be sure to pack up and leave at once.”

A wonderful idea, I think. Lord knows SOMETHING needs to be done, before it’s too late. Austin is already lost, and I have my doubts about Houston.

Back atcha!

Your sidesplitter of the week.

Readers are probably aware that Gab, the popular social media platform, was hacked last week. Allegedly its entire database was copied, although the encrypted details it contained (user passwords, etc.) have apparently not been penetrated. The hackers, a group calling themselves Distributed Denial of Secrets (previously labeled as a “criminal hacker group” by the Department of Homeland Security), appear to have timed releasing the news to coincide with the CPAC conservative political conference last weekend. They announced triumphantly that they would make the entire database available to “researchers”, to identify “far-right-wing extremists” who use Gab, and all the rest of the usual leftist nonsense.

Unsurprisingly, DDoS lied – or were, at least, “economical with the truth”, as Winston Churchill would have said. They (or someone at least associated with their hacking efforts) appear(s) to have attempted to extort about US $500,000 in Bitcoin from Gab head honcho Andrew Torba, in exchange for not releasing the database. They also appear to have used criminal hacking techniques to gain access to the database, not mere “innocent” tools and tricks. I’m hazy on the latter, not being an expert, but apparently more will come out in the wash. Even stranger, they’ve stated that they will not publicly release the entire Gab database, on the grounds of privacy. Seems strange for them to be concerned about “privacy” after ignoring it by criminally hacking the database in the first place!

What’s worse from their point of view is that Andrew Torba didn’t take their nonsense lying down:

TorbaHackResponse-1.png

Torba has condemned threats of violence against them (or against anyone, for that matter), but some of his fans are taking matters into their own hands. They’re tracking down everyone involved and publishing online as much information about them as they can find. Personally, I can’t help but regard that as entirely appropriate. To paraphrase a Biblical theme, “Do not hack, lest ye be hacked yourselves”!

The term “weaponized autism” has been used to describe 4Chan and its enthusiastic tech geeks. Gab appears to have more than a few of its own. They’ve been digging up all sorts of information about the Distributed Denial of Secrets crowd, some of which is now online at https://yourdaddyjoey.com/Emma-Best/. Here’s what one of their number had to say (click the screenshot below to be taken to the original social media post, and read the responses).

TorbaHackReponse-2.png

And here’s where the hilarity really gets its boots on and starts stompin’, Nancy Sinatra-style.

DDoS certainly seems to be a weird bunch, by anyone’s standards. Here, for example is “Emma Best”.

TorbaHackResponseFreak.png

This terrifying freak has a “husband,” apparently, and Hubby doesn’t seem to much appreciate having somebody turn the fucking tables on his gruesome “wife.”


TorbaHackWAAAH.png

Awwwwww. Say it with me one mo’ time ag’in: WAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!! Also: lolgetfucked

As the post acknowledges, Gab (and Andrew Torba) have explicitly disclaimed violence and doxing – but the DDoS crowd doesn’t appear to accept that. Instead, they seem to believe it’s fine for them to hack others, but not nearly so fine for others to employ similar techniques against them. What can I say except, “Boo hoo”?

Oh, I have a bit more to say than just that. For openers: IT’S ABOUT FUCKING TIME. The squeamishness on the side of Right about using Lefty fascists’ own methods against them, of “sinking to their level,” becoming “as bad as they are,” &c needs to cease, and I mean yesterday. Many on the Right have insisted on “taking the high road” for years now, which has gotten them nothing other than their asses kicked up between their shoulder blades. Imagine that: down and dirty gutter brawls aren’t won by sticking to Marquess of Queensberry rules. Turns out that sniffing in haughty disdain when one’s opponent proves himself so gauche as to pull a knife, in unseemly breach of all established standards of gentlemanly combat, will only get one cut to ribbons.

Our reverence for civilized conduct, honor, and fair play has become a means of attack by the Left, and a damned effective one it has become. That shouldn’t come as a surprise, though. Evil’s sole raison d’etre is to corrupt, to defile, to degrade. It doesn’t prevail through revelation, but through obfuscation. It doesn’t overcome, it undermines. Evil has always sought to turn strength into weakness, resolution into indecision, clarity into confusion.

So henceforth, every time I see some fascist freak whimpering over someone doxxing his ass in retaliation for an assault on One Of Us, I will NOT feel the slightest dismay or disgust. Nor will you be seeing any tut-tutting in sympathy from me. This websty will offer neither apology for the “offense” nor condemnation of the agent of our vengeance. Whenever some Lefty trash gets his ass doxxed—or hacked, or SWATted, or beaten about the head and shoulders with a stout stick until he quacks like a duck, even—be assured that somewhere, I’ll be standing up and cheering. With a smile on my face and a song in my heart, no less.

The Left enjoys several tremendous advantages in this struggle:

  • Absolute certainty that they will be victorious
  • Unshakable belief in the righteousness of their cause, their right and competence to rule, and their own intellectual and moral superiority over those they intend to subjugate and oppress
  • No reluctance to engage their enemies decisively; perfect clarity about their war aims and goals
  • A no-holds-barred, no-such-thing-as-a-fair-fight, rules-are-for-saps attitude towards all aspects of the war, from weaponry to tactics to how the losers will be dealt with

Meanwhile, Team Liberty dithers, waffles, and rationalizes in preference to straightforwardly acknowledging the ugly truth about The Enemy’s true nature, intentions, determination, and capabilities. In part, this is actually laudable in a way, since this attitude stems from a sense of propriety, decency, and fundamental humanity not to be found on the Left.

Which means that, laudable or not, what it also is is self-defeating—a serious opening-bell handicap which guarantees that, when the bell closing out the final round is rung, Team Liberty will have lost the fight. The sad fact that humanity, decency, and propriety are just more things the Left perceives not as admirable qualities but as additional weaknesses that can be used as weapons against us.

One of Friedrich Nietzsche’s most well-known quotes is this one:

Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.

Maybe so, maybe so. Philosophizing aside, slaying the collectivist/authoritarian monster is going to require some monstrous deeds of ordinarily kind-hearted and peaceable sorts who will no doubt shudder at the thought. Moreover, it is folly at best to imagine that the Left can be reasoned with, bargained with, or somehow rendered harmless and docile via some means other than unconstrained physical violence.

T’ain’t so, Mcgee. Yes, yes, all we really wanted was to be left alone. This, they will not do. Either we submit to them, or we stop them. At this late date, harsh and distasteful as otherwise decent people may find it, the only way we’ll ever free ourselves from the monster’s clutches is if we kill him.

Via Bill, who reminds one and all: Don’t start none, won’t be none. Amen, brother.

Overdue awakening

Welcome to the party, pal.

Can We Reform a FBI that Behaves Like a Gestapo?

Talk about a question that answers itself.

Short answer–I doubt it. But it is a legitimate question to raise because there are still some patriots serving within the ranks of the FBI who are beyond distraught over the gross politicization of their once proud, respected organization.

Name three. Take your time, I’ll wait.

Some of the men and women with 20 years in are simply counting days and hours until they can punch out. There is genuine, deep seated hatred for Christopher Wray and his coterie of lackeys eager to suckle on the teat of the Deep State.

I never imagined the day would come where I would be serious about comparing the FBI to the GESTAPO. But that day has come. We already have clear evidence of their criminal conduct in the cases of General Michael Flynn, Carter Page, George Papadopolous and Roger Stone. Now we learn that the FBI, without a court order, is seizing the phone records of private citizens and members of Congress without a court order. It is an organization out of control and must be reined-in.

It has been out of control since its very inception. It cannot, will not, be “reined in.” It’s a strictly binary choice: it can be either endured or dismantled. Sorry, but there is no Third Way here.

But that requires some legislators and judges with spine–a trait sorely lacking in Washington, DC at the moment.

Actually, it would require legislators and judges who weren’t fully-paid-up partners in the whole Deep State enterprise. As the USSC seems to be making a disgusting habit of confirming lately, those are mighty, mighty thin on the ground these days—avises most rara indeed.

When you have Republican Leaders like Liz Cheney endorsing this outrage and fueling the lie that Trump supporters are white supremacists that must be extirpated, how can you expect any Democrat to step forward and protest.

I leave you with one simple recommendation–if the FBI contacts you and asks to talk tell them “NO.” Refuse to cooperate in any way. The FBI is no longer your friend.

Always sage advice, but I must reiterate: the FBI NEVER WAS your “friend.” Since the days of J Edgar Hoover, it has been a wholly corrupt, massively overpowered and inadequately overseen agency. I’ve been saying so for many years now.

In fact, some of you greybeards may recall the shocked—SHOCKED!—reaction to the NRA’s fundraising letter accurately describing them as “jackbooted thugs,” among other things, in ’95:

A month after the April 19, 1995, bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City that killed 168 people and injured 680, the Wilmington Star-News published the following:

“The explosion brought out the best in many Americans. It brought out the worst traits in the NRA, especially its hotheaded hype.

“The most ill-timed screed was an NRA fund-raising letter slamming federal agents as “armed terrorists dressed in Ninja black…jack-booted thugs armed to the teeth who break down doors, open fire with automatic weapons and kill law-abiding citizens.”

Can anyone please tell me just what part of all that ISN’T true? Just asking for a friend.

Anyways, so high was the general dudgeon in the wake of that infamous NRA mail-out that Preznit George HW Bush himself felt compelled to very publicly denounce the NRA, resigning his lifetime membership to demonstrate horror most abject at the abominable “slur.” But I felt then, and still do, that the NRA mailing, if arguably ill-advised or impolitely expressed, did nothing more than restate self-evident realities with which too many Americans were already unpleasantly familiar. However uncomfortable they might be, however deep our reluctance to confront them, facts is still facts. By avoiding or—even worse, FAR worse—denying harsh truths, we grant a dangerous authority to falsehood and diminish ourselves in the bargain. No good can ever come from it.

“What steamed Mr. Bush was NRA President Tom Washington’s calling the 1993 Waco, Texas, raid an example of “black-suited, masked, massively armed mobs of screaming, swearing agents invading homes of innocents.”

And then incinerating the lot of them, to the last man, woman, and child. YMMV, but as far as I’m concerned jackbooted thuggery just doesn’t come a whole lot more thuggish than that. But Waco is hardly the only demonstration of the FBI’s soulless, wholly un-American corporate character in action. I’ve mentioned here before my long, deeply disturbing conversation with poor Randy Weaver at the Knob Creek Machine Gun Shoot years ago. For any of you youngsters in need of a refresher on that:

Weaver bought an 8-acre piece of land in Ruby Ridge and began building his cabin. The family started learning how to live without electricity and would live on a more survival basis.

The children were all homeschooled, and soon the family moved to their cabin.

The Weaver’s neighbor, Terry Kinnison, and the family got into a $3,000 land dispute, which Kinnison lost and was to pay an extra $2,100 in damages and court costs.

He was the one who informed the FBI that Weaver had threatened to kill the President, the Pope, and the governor of Idaho.

In 1985, Weaver and his wife were interviewed by the FBI about belonging to the Aryan Nations, a white supremacist religious organization.

Weaver had previously attended some rallies of the Aryan Nations, which led the FBI to believe he attended the Aryan Nations World Congresses and the Aryan Nations Church.

The FBI then began probing further into the family and their whereabouts, to ultimately survey the cabin and prepare for a standoff.

On August 21, 1992, U.S. Marshals were sent to the cabin and were under strict orders to avoid all contact with the Weaver family. But the marshals were detected by the Weaver family dog, and the barking attracted their attention.

Weaver’s son, Samuel, and a family friend named Kevin Harris, both took guns and went out to see what the issue was.

The marshals began retreating, but eventually took defensive positions behind the trees. In later reports, the question of who fired first is still disputed, as Harris and Weaver said that the marshals fired first without identifying themselves.

The standoff began, and the family and the marshals exchanged crossfire. The Weaver dog and 14-year-old Sam were fatally shot, and a federal agent named Bill Degan was also shot dead.

Incredibly, the story gets even more appalling from there, after the FBI’s over-ballyhooed HRT was called in. Murderous (and, of course, highly decorated) FBI sniper Lon Horiuchi wound up being lauded in the more demonic quarters of government as a “hero” for “courageously” shooting Weaver’s unarmed wife Vicki in the head from a safe distance. Bonus government Hero™ points were awarded for cold-bloodedly executing the guiltless woman while she held her 10 month old daughter in her arms.

All this, mind, after FBI goons had spent many months harrassing Weaver, tirelessly insisting that he procure illegal sawed-off shotguns for them in hopes of entrapping him. After Weaver had steadfastly refused their demands again and again, they finally wore their chosen victim down enough that he arranged an introduction to an acquaintance who could possibly supply the goons with the contraband they dishonestly claimed, as a subterfuge, to be seeking.

Weaver was indicted and tried on the grossly-inflated litany of charges now typical of the Amerikan “justice” system, later being acquitted on all but a minor bail violation and failure to appear in court—a “crime” not intentionally committed but due to a scheduling mistake. Weaver went on to sue the evil US government, which sulfurous entity quietly settled out of court for $3.1 million—inadequate compensation for the persecution he suffered, in my opinion. His profligately unjust ordeal cost him several loved ones and transformed Weaver into the quite obviously tormented shell of a man I spoke with at Knob Creek.

The pain in Weaver’s eyes as he told me his story was all too evident. Trust me, it was an awful thing to see. My longtime loathing for the FBI in particular and FederalGovCo generally grew immeasurably that afternoon. Certainly, I’ve seen no justification for moderating or reconsidering that opinion since. The only positive thing I can come up with to say about all this: the FBI will always be a bellwether, a handy way of evaluating the state of the nation. As long as the agency still exists, the US government will be out of all compliance with its Constitution—a tyrannous affront to liberty, the rule of law, and the Founding principles it has betrayed.

Update! More details on the Ruby Ridge atrocity can be found here.

Let freedom ring

God bless the great Repubic of Texas. Now do Texit, ‘kay?

Gov. Abbott ends statewide mask mandate, Tyler-area leaders react to latest announcement
Following Gov. Greg Abbott’s announcement on Tuesday afternoon, East Texans can choose if they want to wear a face mask beginning on March 10 once the statewide mandate is lifted.

“It is now time to open Texas 100%,” he said. “Every business that wants to be open should be open.”

Through Abbott’s Executive Order 34, most of his previous orders related to COVID-19 have been rescinded and all businesses may open back to 100%.
He said business owners can limit their capacity or implement additional safety measures at their own discretion.

After hearing of the changes, Tyler Mayor Don Warren said Tuesday he was surprised that the lifting of the order happened so rapidly. He plans to read over the order and evaluate its details.

While he’s “100% behind businesses being open,” Warren said it’s important to continue to be smart and safe.

Point: missed, by a fucking mile. What’s important is the restoration of American liberty to its rightful holders, after it was illegally stolen from them. It’s ever possible to justify tyrannical, un-Constitutional edicts in the first damned place, good intentions be damned. But it seems the lockdowns, fag-rags, and other panic-ninny accoutrements were actually counterproductive:

Jeffrey Tucker and his colleagues at the American Institute of Economic Research have been working overtime exposing both the horrific costs as well as the utter lack of any compensatory benefits of the economic carnage and spirit-crushing isolation that somehow became America’s go-to public health strategy against COVID-19 since this awful nightmare first began.

Today on Twitter, however, Tucker posted an image compiled by a businessman named Keith Anderson that couldn’t possibly better exemplify that old adage about a picture being worth a thousand words.

It’s a simple bar-graph of the total number of COVID-19 fatalities each U.S. state has reported as of February 24, in ascending order, which was posted this morning at the invaluable website, Lockdown Skeptics.

The average number of fatalities suffered by states that imposed lockdowns last spring vs those that didn’t is also represented. And one important piece of information here is that states which locked down wound up with more reported COVID-19 fatalities on average than states that remained free.

  • Average COVID-19 Fatalities per million as of February 24, 2021:
    Lockdown States: 1558
    Free States: 1475

Hence, the utter pointlessness of all the damage we caused to ourselves by defiling America’s founding commitment to individual liberty couldn’t possibly be more clear.

Somebody ought to refresh Mayor Warren’s faulty memory regarding the definitions of “smart” and “safe.” Because, according to those numbers, the FauxVid19 power-grab was neither one of those things. And, as science tells us, numbers don’t lie. Follow the science, dude. Elsewhere, a related question is posed:

They say everything is bigger in Texas, but everything is just better in Florida. I was lucky enough to snag a speaking invitation for this year’s CPAC and, eager to escape the lockdowns and wintry winds of DC, hopped on a plane to sunny and free Orlando, Florida.

Whereas refusing to wear a mask outdoors in DC is an act of resistance, in Florida it’s expected. Some businesses have their own indoor mask mandates, but they are often loosely enforced if at all. At first, mingling and schmoozing in a crowded bar without a mask felt naughty. By my second night in town, I reveled in the freedom. No flimsy piece of cloth would slow down my ability to slam old fashioneds and inhale jumbo shrimp.

New Yorkers love to express disgust and horror at videos of the pool parties and clubs in the south. They ignore the awkward truth that their own state and neighboring New Jersey have the highest COVID-19 death rates despite strict lockdown measures. Free Florida sits comfortably below average. I suspect the NY outrage at pina colada-sipping Sunshine Staters is more down to jealousy.

Not so, not so. Don’t listen to this crazy lady, y’all. Life is absolutely horrible down South. It’s hot, it’s humid, the food sucks, and there are guns everyplace you look. We talk funny. There’s no theater, art, or nightlife of any kind. In fact, all we have for entertainment ’round h’yar is humpin’ our cousins and draggin’ Nigras from the back of our clapped-out old pickemup trucks. What we DO have an overabundance of is cockroaches the size of small dogs; swarms of the most persistent mosquitos on the planet, all bearing exotic and incurable diseases; drawling waitresses too busy working a jawful of gum (or, Gawd help us, Skoal Wintergreen or even Red Man) to bother getting your order straight; and bearded, big-bellied yahoos walking around everyplace without their shirts on.

In January.

Lotta folks don’t realize it, but Deliverance was a documentary, not fiction. Tarpaper shacks and trailer parks are still a thing. If WalMart ain’t got it, you don’t need it noways. We’re all slackjawed white supremacists with a violent streak a mile wide here in Dixieland. And now, since we’re too stupid to take it seriously enough, we’re all gonna die of Covid.

Yep, you Yankees are definitely better off staying right where you’re at.

Trust me.

Not my game, I ain’t gonna play

Call it whatever you want, but a spade will still be a spade.

This Is Not Normal and I Refuse to Pretend It Is
Can we stop for a minute and recognize the absurdity of what we witnessed in a Senate Health, Education, Labor, and Pensions Committee confirmation hearing on Thursday? I turned on C-SPAN and could not believe what I was seeing. A transgender individual—decked out in makeup, jewelry, an ugly skirt, and a hairdo straight out of a 1980s Twisted Sister MTV video—came before a committee of the U.S. Senate and everyone acted like this was completely normal.

Kentucky Sen. Rand Paul was the only person on the Senate HELP committee to question Rachel Levine’s radical transgender ideology, which includes chemical (and possibly physical) castration of minor children without their parents’ consent. What did poor Rand Paul get for his courage and honesty? Charges that the medical doctor is an “ignorant’ transphobe. Where were his Republican colleagues? Sitting in their comfy chairs acting as if having a man wearing lipstick and a dress in the Senate chamber is the most normal thing in the world. They’re cowards who are afraid that the mob will come for them next—and they’re hedging their bets that the whole issue will go away before they’re forced to go on the record about all this trans tomfoolery.

We’ve regressed so far as a society that no one bats an eye when a delusional man who believes himself to be a woman is being put forth as a nominee for a vaunted position in government by the president of the United States. And we’re all just supposed to play along with this fantasy and act as if it’s completely normal. It’s not.

Shockingly, the position Levine is under consideration for is the assistant secretary of Health and Human Services. A man who denies science, believing he can overcome what every cell in his body screams—that he’s a male, packed full of XY chromosomes—is going to be in charge of directing health policy for the entire nation. What kind of mass delusion are we under that we just sit back and pretend this is good for us—for our nation, for our children, and for our health?

Now is not a time for cowardice. It’s a time to stand up and say “this is not normal” and to refuse to go along with the charade. The transgender ideology is destroying our culture. Denying basic biology in order to pacify a handful of troubled individuals—and elevating those individuals to high positions in government—makes a mockery of truth and morality, and denies what is visible to all.

They aren’t “pacifying” them, or “elevating” them. They’re USING them, exactly as they’ve used so many others who have fallen under the shitlib thrall: women, Negroes, Mexicans, immigrants and refugees, gays/lesbians, the homeless, the urban poor, the mentally ill, the handicapped, and so on. They divide people into groups; inculcate an unshakable belief in the poisonous idea of their own systemic victimization; urge them on to destructive, futile acts as the only means by which the wrongs done to them by powerful Others might be righted; and then abandon them the instant their usefulness has been outlived. Which is usually when the dumpee saps find out firsthand what REAL victimization is all about.

None of which either surprises or particularly interests me at the moment, I confess. No, the part of this story I wonder about is, did Mr Levine actually have his john-willy whacked off? Or is he among the vast majority of the statistically negligible sub-sub-sub-genus all and sundry are required to misnomer “transgenders” nowadays: a confused, off-camber dude whose unwanted courting tackle, although tucked away under cover of plus-sized women’s wear, is nonetheless intact—ie, a transvestite with, shall we say, loftier ambitions?

Whatever the case may be with this sad, addle-pated freak and his now-you-see-it-now-you-don’t clamdigger, allow me to beat the crowd with an early prediction: Mr Levine will almost certainly be our next “President.” Before you dismiss the notion out of hand, think about this: after our Historic First Black Wymrynzxx “President”—Kumala Willielicker, that would be—what the hell else in the way of Historic First etc etc is left to us? Does anybody really believe that a Historic First Hindoo, illegal alien, or Moslem would satisfy, when we have Mr Levine waiting in the wings for his chance to shine?

Better go ahead and get those bets down now, folks. Trust me on this.

THAT’S how you do it!

A woman after my own heart.

MASK MADNESS Female shopper whips off her THONG and wears it as a Covid face mask after supermarket staff refused to serve her
THIS is the shocking moment a shopper whipped off her thong in the middle of a supermarket and donned it as a face covering after being refused service.

The viral clip shows the female customer remove her undies to put on her face after being warned she would not be served without a Covid mask on.

The bizarre incident was caught on camera at a Pick n Pay supermarket in South Africa, and has since caused quite a stir online.

The shopper was asked to put on a face covering by a security guard, but claimed she did not have one.

After threatening to remove her from the store, footage shows the woman then reach under her dress and whip off her thong to use as a makeshift mask.

Another female shopper, reportedly the same woman who went viral earlier in the week for telling supermarket staff to remove their face masks, appeared to congratulate her, saying “well done”.

Well done is right. But naturally, a horde of cowardly Karens came out of the woodwork online to wildly flap their arms and skreeee!! in hysterical condemnation of the righteous babe’s perfect improvisational flipping of the freedom bird at the panic-ninnies. This one cops the award for Most Obtuse:

“We have a serious virus and (she thinks) a G-string will save her. Come on grow up. What must your family think?”

Might want to have a wee gander at the box your own precious little face-diaper came in, Einstein. Chances are it looks something like this:

IneffectiveMask.jpg

Ooops. No prize this time, you quaking lackwit, but thanks for playing our game anyway. A tip of the cap and a big, fat CF kiss a-blown to the sassy lassie who so cheekily gave us all a real-world demonstration of the USMC’s “adapt and overcome” motto, bless her clever self. If she hasn’t already auctioned the thong off on eBay for substantial remuneration, I hope like hell she does.

Death by electrocution

Somewhat unexpected riffage from car guy Eric Peters, now duly if belatedly bookmarked and blogrolled.

A car is fundamentally an appliance.

While a few are bought and kept for the fun of it or because the buyer likes the looks of it, at the end of the day, a car is about getting from A to B affordably, comfortably and practically for most people who buy them.

Motorcycles are fundamentally about fun; their practicality as transportation is a perk but not the point. Most people who own a motorcycle also own a car. They ride the bike when they can – for the fun of it.

Electrification will put an end to that.

Because electrification takes away almost everything that makes a motorcycle fun – and affordable and practical, too.

The firing up of the engine; the feeling of it vibrating and the sound of it roaring. The shifting and clutching; the using of both your hands and both your feet to control the action, simultaneously – involving you in the action as an integral part of it.

And that right there is where it starts to become apparent that Peters, bless his heart, is not JUST a car guy. Follows, more toothsome stuff wherein he characterizes electric motorcycles as being the two-wheeled equivalent of those baskets of plastic display-fruit strewn about in stores peddling kitchen furniture and the like.

They are both ersatz things. Not the genuine thing. Substitutes. Frauds, even.

OHH yeah, more than just a car guy for sure. Onwards.

Non-electric motorcycles also have the virtue of being different – also part of the fun – whereas electric motorcycles are fundamentally the same, other than size and color (like drills, again). A real Harley has a big V-twin and makes a sound that only a Harley makes. A 14,000 RPM-capable Kawasaki inline four makes an entirely different sound. As does a twisted twin or a single.

Bikers know all about this.

Damned skippy we do. Preach it, brother.

Real motorcycles also have entirely different power bands and other characteristics, which give them each a different personality and so different reasons for buying one rather than another vs. the same electric NPC non-personality you get with a bike that hasn’t got an engine at all.

Or gears.

Or a clutch.

Just . . . whirrrrr.

Amen to that. Further betraying his status as red-blooded, old-school scooter trash, Eric mentions a little thing reverently examined in honest-to-HD biker rags—a favorite hobby-horse of Iron Horse magazine in particular, back when David Snow was running it—rider involvement. The term may not resonate much, or at all, with cake-eating non-Harley civilian types. But for us scruffy diehards who have 60-weight coursing through our veins, it means absolutely everything. In fact, rider involvement is one of THE primary attractions that always seduced people onto Harleys in the first place.

Motorcyclists ain’t necessarily bikers, see. It’s an important distinction to be aware of and to understand. Bikerdom isn’t a hobby, a pasttime, or a casual interest. Despite the unwelcome rise, somewhere back in the late 90s or so, of the species known as RUBs (Rich Urban Bikers), for-real bikerdom is a lifestyle, nothing less: a unique, rich, and surprisingly diverse sub-culture that tends to suck in those who are susceptible to its offbeat charms totally, gradually transforming those who stay with it long-term in perhaps unlooked-for ways.

It’s a hoary old cliché among biker folk that you can buy the Harley, the leather jacket, the boots, and the T-shirts. You can grow the hair and beard; you can get the tattoos. It will avail you nothing; a biker is born, not made. In fact, most of them probably couldn’t be anything else even if they wanted to. The authentic biker soul can’t be purchased, adopted, or convincingly faked for very long. One either IS, or one is NOT.

Mopeds and scooters (basically, larger mopeds) also have the advantage of being considerably less expensive than motorcycles, making them more practical than motorcycles for people looking to get from A to B as inexpensively as possible.

Plus, almost anyone can ride a Moped or Scooter, there being little skill required.

Electric bikes, on the other hand, cost much more than real motorcycles – and thus are much less practical than Mopeds and scooters – and for reasons that go beyond their much higher cost.

In addition to the cost of the fun you won’t have because of the skill – and rider involvement – not required.

The Harley LiveWire, for example. This two-wheeled equivalent of plastic food starts just under $30,000 – which is about twice as much as a generally similar “standard” non-electric bike and more than most family cars cost – while limiting how far you can ride on the highway to less than 100 miles before you run out of juice and are forced to wait for hours to get back on the road.

I know a lot of guys who wouldn’t even bother saddling up at all with that pitiful limitation; I’m talking here about serious ironbutts who think nothing at all of covering two or three times that distance just to grab lunch, ferchrissakes. For them, AFTER lunch is when the real ride starts. The idea that such stalwarts would even contemplate dropping great wads of their hard-earned on a contraption that can barely get around the block before needing to RTB, lest it suddenly become an overpriced boat anchor, is just silly.

This means you dare not ride the electric Harley much farther than 40 or so miles from home (and plug) without risking being unable to get back home to plug. It’s actually less than that because unlike a non-electric bike, which runs the same until you run out of gas completely, the electric bike begins to run weakly as it gets close to running out of range. It slows down, as the software tries desperately – pathetically – to keep it at least moving for a little while longer because once it stops, you are stuck.

So much for the open road. So much for fun. So much for the point of it all.

Amen again, my brother. I laughed right out loud at this next bit.

Which is why electric bikes aren’t selling.

Hilariously – sadly – Harley says its LiveWire is the “best selling” electric bike in the U.S. Which is true – because there are almost no other electric bikes for sale in the U.S., other than a bike called – appropriately – the Zero. Which has sold a few more bikes than that, but not many.

From there, Peters of course gets into the political aspect, which is every bit as solid as the rest of the piece. This one is an atypically lengthy outing for Eric, which is another giveaway to the man’s gin-yoo-wine Biker™ inner self. Whether you’re of a similar bent or not, you definitely want to read it all.

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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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