Mainstreaming mental illness

It’s a sickness.

Hypochondriacs used to understand that they were hypochondriacs. Most knew that their fear of germs, their obsessive hand-washing and (yes) their wearing of “masks” was prompted by an irrational fear and many sought therapy to deal with it. Very few expected others to accept it – as by pretending to also live in fear of germs, obsessively washing hands and performing other bizarre rituals to make the hypochondriacal feel better.

But the weaponization of hypochondria changed all that. Hypochondria is no longer ashamed of itself. It is militant, in the John Brown abolitionist sense just absent the underlying justification of opposition to slavery.

People like my friend’s daughter would have people like me – and people like you, if you are also not a hypochondriac – forced to pretend we share their sickness as by performing their rituals. And would have us handcuffed, jailed – and worse, inevitably – if we persist in our insistence on normality, rationality and proportionality.

These people are dangerous.

They are tearing apart friendships – and families, as in the “case” of my friend, whose daughter regards her as a reckless apostate and shuns her physical presence on the basis of a deranged fear of sickness her mother hasn’t got but just might have, ongoing.

Because you never know.

They have already torn apart the country, having poisoned friendships, family relationships – even what were in normal times the causal interactions we used to take for granted, such as saying hi! to the person behind the counter at the coffee shop – without a plexiglass barrier (and a facial barrier) in between.

It is truly sickening – just the right word.

And it is doubtful whether this sickness, having established itself, can be cured without accepting that we will be compelled to shun these weaponized hypochondriacs, as they shun us.

Hey, I’m good with that.

No friends to the Left

Y’all know I don’t use the word “cunt” lightly. This woman…is a cunt.

Oh, heck no. The Trumpites next door to our pandemic getaway, who seem as devoted to the ex-president as you can get without being Q fans, just plowed our driveway without being asked and did a great job.

How am I going to resist demands for unity in the face of this act of aggressive niceness?

It ain’t our side that’s demanding it, and I expect those acts of “aggressive niceness” are soon to winnow down to plain old aggression.

Of course, on some level, I realize I owe them thanks — and, man, it really looks like the guy back-dragged the driveway like a pro — but how much thanks?

These neighbors are staunch partisans of blue lives, and there aren’t a lot of anything other than white lives in the neighborhood.

So here’s my response to my plowed driveway, for now. Politely, but not profusely, I’ll acknowledge the Sassian move. With a wave and a thanks, a minimal start on building back trust. I’m not ready to knock on the door with a covered dish yet.

I also can’t give my neighbors absolution; it’s not mine to give. Free driveway work, as nice as it is, is just not the same currency as justice and truth. To pretend it is would be to lie, and they probably aren’t looking for absolution anyway.

You wouldn’t know justice and truth if it kicked your teeth down your throat. And if your neighbors are misguided enough to seek absolution from your ilk, their moral compass is in need of some serious adjusting.

But I can offer a standing invitation to make amends. Not with a snowplow but by recognizing the truth about the Trump administration and, more important, by working for justice for all those whom the administration harmed. Only when we work shoulder to shoulder to repair the damage of the last four years will we even begin to dig out of this storm.

How typical of you to express “gratitude” for an act of selfless generosity that actually yielded quantifiable benefit to you with the “offer” of a condescending political lecture reciting your warped version of “truth” that nobody asked for or wants. How typical, too, the compulsion to taint a simple kindness with the inevitable injection of political acrimony in response. You regard such egotistical primping and preening as an “invitation to make amends,” when what it really amounts to is a demand for an abject confession of error required before we can all “work shoulder to shoulder” to “dig out” of a “storm” which was conjured entirely by you and yours, not by blameless “Trumpites.”

No thanks, not interested. In fact, go fuck yourself with a thistle branch for all me. In your native Parseltongue, “unity” actually means “surrender,” as we all know by now. Frankly, I’d rather gargle semen than endure a moment’s social interaction with such as you, so bending the knee in submission is just not on the menu. Save your covered dishes for folks who really need ’em: the hordes of newly unemployed and/or bankrupt thanks to your chowderhead “president” (you won’t have any trouble finding them; just wander the urban blight near you until you come to all the tents). Save your pompous hypocrisy and toothless, passive-aggressive insults for your fellow Progtard assholes to titter at over boxed wine. And save your insufferable self-righteousness, your unfounded assumptions of superiority, and your preschool political insights for somebody who might actually give a tinker’s damn what you think.

Lick it up

Somebody get the bitch a big spoon, stat.

I am a staunch supporter of Joe Biden and voted for him to save this country. Now I ask him to save my restaurant from the good intentions of progressive policy makers.

I own Pizza By Elizabeths, just outside Wilmington. The restaurant is named after the two Elizabeths—me and my former business partner, Betty—who founded it in 1993. It features an upscale-casual menu with vintage wines. Our guests dine under French chandeliers, alongside wall decor featuring other well-known Elizabeths, from the queen to Betty Boop.

We pride ourselves on serving all Delawareans, including the president. Mr. Biden, who at times has frequented our establishment two to three times a week, has been a great and gracious customer.

Yet friends can have disagreements. The president and his team may understand Delaware politics, but I’m not sure they understand the difficulties of Delaware restaurants. How else to explain his proposal to raise the minimum wage for our servers and bartenders from $2.23 an hour to $15—an increase of more than 400%—which would be a death knell for our industry?

Oh, they understand, insofar as they can be said to understand anything at all. It’s just that they don’t give a shit, see. Once you figure that part out, everything else suddenly makes sense.

And quite frankly, when it comes to Biden supporters like you, neither do I. The Biden-Harris junta‘s authoritarian intentions were spelled out explicitly throughout the campaign. Nor is there the slightest ambiguity about the kind of meddlesome, fingers-in-all-pies government the Democrat-Socialist Party stands for, not anymore. You voted for this. You did so knowingly, of your own free will. Now you think yourself entitled to whine and cry because your guy is doing what he told you he was going to do? You expect sympathy for the awful, awful plight you brought on your own damned selves?

Sorry, not sorry. Idiots like you are gonna learn what the shit end of the Progtard stick smells like, so to speak, and I think it’s a fine thing. Stupidity should be painful, in all kinds of ways, lest it go on steadily increasing. So yeah, I hope you lackwits get everything you voted for, good and hard, and I hope it rocks your fucking world right off its axis. Enjoy poverty, homelessness, and immiseration, shitlibs. Welcome to the New Normal you inflicted on all of us. May you have joy of your choice.

It ain’t my favorite KISS song by any stretch, nor are the lyrics in any way related to the topic at hand. But considering my post title above, along with the mention of Gene Simmons in the previous one…awww, what the heck.



Le mots juste

Precision, people. In language, as in all things.

When You Think of Joe Biden Is ‘Swagger’ Really the First Word That Comes to Mind?

Not hardly. Not first, nor last, nor anyplace betwixt. I doubt I could ever GET that sloppy drunk, honestly, even back in my heyday for such things. Not for lack of capacity or will, mind; the spirit(s) is willing, though the flesh be weak. It’s just that there ain’t that much liquor on the entire planet.

We went four years without glossy magazine covers trying to puff up the image of the sitting president. And no magazine ever featured our former first lady, an actual fashion model, either. The Bidens have now graced several, but this may be the most absurd. GQ Hype in the U.K. gave President Biden a fashion spread that is just….gag-worthy. The cover reads “Joe Biden, Swagger-in-Chief!” with a picture of the president LARPing Garth Brooks sitting on the tailgate of a vintage pick-up truck, complete with a few bottles of Budweiser at his side:

This magazine is trying to turn a septuagenarian from Delaware with cognitive issues into a heartthrob. Really? Swagger?

Stagger is a lot more like it. They were closer than you might think, actually; they only flubbed it by the one letter. In a sense, though, this embarrassing rumpswabbery is an entirely fitting thing. The fluffer-girls at GQ stitched up a phony image promoting one of the biggest phonies ever to occupy space actual humans might require for other, more useful purposes. They’re propping up a prop, creating a character for a man bereft of any. You don’t get more fitting than that.

Additionally, there’s GQ Hype itself to consider. I mean, could there possibly BE a magazine more appropriately named? C’MON, MAN!!!

Hope they put Dress-Up Joe into a Spiderman costume next. Or maybe do Gene Simmons, of KISS. I think that would be pretty cool.

A real stunner

Just when I thought there was no shock left to be wrung from my poor, calloused soul.

Former WWE talent Gabbi Tuft has come out as a transgender woman.

The 42-year-old fitness guru – who wrestled under the ring name Tyler Reks – shared the news via a press release on Thursday, calling Gabbi’s journey a ‘thrilling story of gender transitioning.’

‘Gabbi is about to share her thrilling story of gender transitioning from a former WWE Superstar, Body Builder, Fitness Guru, Motivational Speaker and Motorcycle Racer to a fun loving and fabulous female,’ the release read.

‘She has been finally set free and ready to rule her world.’

It seems Gabbi had intended to reveal the news on Friday, but she took to Instagram to address the early revelation Thursday, sharing a photo of herself beaming and posing in front of an old wrestling photo as she shared her new, authentic look.

I started to embed the photo, but there are lots more of ’em, and you really need to see them for yourself. I promise you: a bizarre milestone has been surpassed here, a bar most definitely raised.

Wow.

Safetyism sucks

Kinda hate linking to Faux News, but it’s Mike Rowe, so I guess I gotta.

More than a year after the coronavirus arrived in the United States, American are “starting to understand the importance of balance again,” Mike Rowe told “The Story” Friday.

“Several months ago, New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo said no measure, no matter how draconian, could be deemed unwise if it saves but a single life,” the “Six Degrees with Mike Rowe” host told Martha MacCallum. “I got a lot of flak when he said that, because I said, ‘That is a safety-first way of thinking, and deep down we’re not a safety-first society.

Correction: we weren’t. Then again, we also weren’t a nation of docile, bleating sheep either, and our national motto wasn’t “Americans do as they’re told.” We’ve come a long way, baby.

“Now we’re starting to see the price of safety is devastating,” Rowe added. “What is happening right now in the energy industry is really the thing that I think we ought to be focused on, because there feels to me, and feels to a lot of people I talk to on a day-to-day basis, like a concerted effort to wage a kind of war against energy. It’s not a war we can win, especially with regard to fossil fuels and all of the jobs that are wrapped up in that industry. I don’t mean to sound like an apologist, but I know of no greater investor in alternative energy than the fossil fuel industry.”

MacCallum brought the discussion back to the issue of safety, saying, “We’re a country that was built on risk-taking. We want to take wise risks, we don’t want to be reckless, but that element of being strong and fighting through is something that I think is such an American value.

I repeat: was. It’s hard to find much trace of that noble heritage nowadays, sad to say.

“Risk is the only four-letter word that matters,” Rowe agreed. “It impacts and informs every decision we make, from driving a car to walking around without a mask or wearing one mask or two masks.”

“We’re starting to see,” Rowe concluded, “if you elevate the business of staying alive to the very, very top of all things, then the only thing you’ll ever do is stay alive. You won’t go anywhere. You won’t try anything or build anything.”

Present-day Americans have lost all awareness of the all-important distinction between “staying alive” and LIVING. The only context in which Duh Sheeple seem to have retained any of that traditional bold, pioneering spirit is in their total fearlessness when it comes to donning a sundress and declaring themselves “women,” although most of these nominal “transgenders” do seem to recover their core pusillanimity when it comes to actually chopping their dicks off. The proper attitude towards risk versus safety, a hero’s death versus a coward’s existence, was laid out in Braveheart:



Mel Gibson’s soul-stirring pre-battle pep talk to his wavering Scottish rabble-army (ibid) should likewise be indelibly graven on Real American hearts:



It is to our eternal shame how thoroughly so many of us have forgotten those fine sentiments. If we do not soon remember, honor, and redeem them, then American liberty will be no more than a rapidly fading memory as well—and our disgraceful fate will have been well and rightly earned.

Update! Wes is thinking along similar lines, including the Braveheart reference.

I don’t even know where to begin. What will it take for Americans to wake up and take back their freedom? A hoax of a virus is being used to control and divide us. People are blindly obeying the wishes, yes wishes because there is no law, that you should wear a mask and avoid contact with people. People’s lives and businesses are being ruined because people refuse to stand. Have people lost the ability to critically think for themselves? That face diaper you are proudly wearing with your cute little sayings printed on it doesn’t do a damn thing to prevent a virus. You are virtue signaling that you are a good little peasant and will follow the orders of your evil government. There is no pandemic. We were lied to. Period. If there was an actual pandemic we wouldn’t have to be told about it on television. We would know and see it with our own eyes.

This is all about our government dominating us and wanting us to submit to their every whim. This is about control. This evil government is pushing us and testing us. They want to see exactly what they can get away with and what we are willing to accept. At this point it is anything. Very few have the courage to speak out or do anything. Although speaking out against this tyranny we face will now get you labeled as a domestic terrorist. At least now I know what to refer to myself as. Ha!

A question was asked on another post here “Isn’t there anyone out there who is brave enough, patriotic enough, and who cares enough to rise up and take America back?” My answer to that question is yes, however I am but one man and I do not want to be a martyr. So how do we begin to fight? You know what happens if we continue to do nothing? It (is) quite the conundrum we find ourselves in.

It’s my belief that there’s a goodly number of valiant souls left out there who have every intention of fighting back, but who are also fully awake to the fact that engaging before the time is fully ripe would be an invitation to catastrophe. These are momentous affairs indeed—a genuine turn of history wherein planning, preparation, and mature judgment constitute the fulcrum upon which success or failure will pivot. An anarchic berserker blitzkrieg is definitely NOT the way to go, seems to me. The grind of a stealthy, slowly escalating campaign of attrition is much more likely to win the day for Team Liberty. When there is no realistic chance of overwhelming the enemy, victory can only be achieved by wearing him down—sapping his will, exhausting his resources, convincing him that your own commitment is so deep that you will never surrender.

As the man says, it’s quite the conundrum. Excessive delay will only increase the duration, difficulty, and sheer bloodiness of the struggle. George McClellan, an outstanding motivator and leader of men, demonstrated that well enough; though his courage and competence were never in serious question, a surfeit of caution proved to be his ruin. Still, going off half-cocked without a plan, both tactical and strategic, is a sure-fire recipe for disaster, as any experienced combat veteran could tell you.

After decades of looking on helplessly as our country was defiled and then destroyed by thieves, thugs, and witless fools, it’s all too easy to let impatience dissolve into despair, leading on to bitter resignation. A delicate balance between recklessness and restraint, between overthinking and disregard, must now be struck. The fog of war, even fickle, unpredictable Fortuna Herself, will also have their own parts to play as the battle to reclaim a once-great nation widens and intensifies.

Delay can be costly; premature action, disastrous. But despair is fatal, the very worst of the three. Don’t give in to it. Plan. Prepare. Nurture your rage, but don’t let it rule you. Ignore the deceit and self-serving manipulations of the lying Left; rage is more than justified, a fair and fitting answer to the long train of abuses and usurpations inflicted by them. Battle is coming, with Justice at the wheel and Vengeance riding shotgun.

Learn to code!

Hey, I hear there are lots of good-paying opportunities in the solar-panel industry. Plus, there’s the new Morannon being built around the Imperial Palace in Mordor on the Potomac. Y’know, to protect “democracy” and all.

People who work in oil and gas are not the only ones immediately losing their jobs under Joe Biden.

Biden signed the executive order to fulfill his campaign promise of stopping the construction of the new border wall system that was being implemented by former President Donald Trump’s administration. While some areas on the southwest border saw a whole new wall being put in place where none existed before, the new wall system also replaced old barriers that were laughably easy to get over, such as old fencing in the El Paso Sector.

The construction crew was working hard to demobilize and bring their equipment, such as excavators and bulldozers, out of the area as soon as possible in order to comply with the executive order. I was told the crew was about two months away from completing the project they had been working on, which was now over with the quick signing of a pen…

I asked how everyone else on his crew, about 20 people, felt about the cancelation of their project.

“F*cked, to be honest with you,” he replied. “A lot of these guys, they don’t have nothing” because this was the only prospect that was employing them during these rough economic times. “A lot of people don’t know what else they’re going to do.”

“If you want my personal opinion, [the wall] was actually a good thing. You talk to a lot of locals in town and everything” and they were appreciative of what we were doing, the driver added, “We feel like our country really don’t give a sh*t about us.”

Actually, it’s your government that doesn’t give a shit about you. Half the country actively hates your guts and wants you dead, or engulag’ed.

Mail-order degeneracy

There’s an app for that.

This app lets you order hormone blockers so you can gender reassign without ever having to see an in-person doc or shrink
Ordering invasive drugs that alter your body in permanent ways is easier now than ever thanks to a new service called Plume.

Plume seeks to help you “live your authentic life” by getting rid of yucky red tape like psychologists and doctors that might warn you about the side effects of hormone blockers.

Oh, and should you need a medical letter of support in order to remove unwanted organs from your body, all you have to do is pony up $150.

Whatever the patient wants, the patient gets! As Plume says, they be “cheering you on every step of the way.”

Generation X, Gen Z, Millenials, Schmillenials—it’s all about the D-Generation now, baby. Which calls for a tune from some old NYC buds of mine.



Remember when

Then: statesmen. Now: career politicians.

I have little interest in streamlining government or in making it more efficient, for I mean to reduce its size. I do not undertake to promote welfare, for I propose to extend freedom. My aim is not to pass laws, but to repeal them. It is not to inaugurate new programs, but to cancel old ones that do violence to the Constitution or that have failed their purpose, or that impose on the people an unwarranted financial burden. I will not attempt to discover whether legislation is “needed” before I have first determined whether it is constitutionally permissible. And if I should later be attacked for neglecting my constituents’ “interests”, I shall reply that I was informed that their main interest is liberty and that in that cause I am doing the very best I can.

Barry Goldwater, of course, whose 1964 defeat-by-smearjob qualifies as possibly the most damaging missed opportunity this poor country ever inflicted on itself. He was a fount of pithy, memorable quotations, some of them expressing viewpoints that might not always be quite what one would expect. For instance:

Mark my word, if and when these preachers get control of the [Republican] party, and they’re sure trying to do so, it’s going to be a terrible damn problem. Frankly, these people frighten me. Politics and governing demand compromise. But these Christians believe they are acting in the name of God, so they can’t and won’t compromise. I know, I’ve tried to deal with them.

And:

You don’t have to be straight to be in the military; you just have to be able to shoot straight.

It’s not at all difficult to find more in that unexpected vein, which still doesn’t detract from the good stuff:

A government big enough to give you everything you want is big enough to take everything you have.

Those who seek absolute power, even though they seek it to do what they regard as good, are simply demanding the right to enforce their own version of heaven on earth. And let me remind you, they are the very ones who always create the most hellish tyrannies. Absolute power does corrupt, and those who seek it must be suspect and must be opposed. Their mistaken course stems from false notions of equality, ladies and gentlemen. Equality, rightly understood, as our founding fathers understood it, leads to liberty and to the emancipation of creative differences. Wrongly understood, as it has been so tragically in our time, it leads first to conformity and then to despotism. Fellow Republicans, it is the cause of Republicanism to resist concentrations of power, private or public, which enforce such conformity and inflict such despotism. It is the cause of Republicanism to ensure that power remains in the hands of the people.

I feel certain that Conservatism is through unless Conservatives can demonstrate and communicate the difference between being concerned with [the unemployed, the sick without medical care, human welfare, etc.] and believing that the federal government is the proper agent for their solution.

The material and spiritual sides of man are intertwined; that it is impossible for the State to assume responsibility for one without intruding on the essential nature of the other; that if we take from a man the personal responsibility for caring for his material needs, we take from him also the will and the opportunity to be free.

Such, then, is history’s lesson, which Messrs. Acheson and Larson evidently did not read: release the holders of state power from any restraints other than those they wish to impose upon themselves, and you are swinging down the well-traveled road to absolutism. The framers of the Constitution had learned the lesson. They were not only students of history, but victims of it: they knew from vivid, personal experience that freedom depends on effective restraints against the accumulation of power in a single authority.

Most important of all: in our anxiety to “improve” the world and insure “progress” we have permitted our schools to become laboratories for social and economic change according to the predilections of the professional educators. We have forgotten that the proper function of the school is to transmit the cultural heritage of one generation to the next generation, and to so train the minds of the new generation as to make them capable of absorbing ancient learning and applying it to the problem of its own day.

As the public grows more and more cynical, the politician feels less and less compelled to take his promises seriously.

The Conservative also recognizes that the political power on which order is based is a self-aggrandizing force; that its appetite grows with eating. He knows that the utmost vigilance and care are required to keep political power within its proper bounds.

One of the last of the real-deal conservative statesmen, Goldwater never did make it to the White House. And now, no true conservative ever will again. GP hints at one of the reasons why.

Remember the good old days when we could have serious discussions about the constitutional limits of government, and if the myriad government programs we have put in place actually met the constitutional requirement? And how much we would be able to reduce the size and scope of government, and how the first priority of the government was to protect the freedoms and liberty of American citizens?

Yeah, me neither. That is to say, I would dearly like to get back to the point where we could talk about things like this, but we are far beyond this. In fact, we are not even within shouting distance of it. Our disagreements with progressives are not over the size and scope of government, but down lower, way lower, down at some basic, fundamental level where questions about the very nature of men and things must be resolved.

Well, that and them wanting us dead. That has to be resolved, too.

Oh, it will be…one way or another. As it happens, another visionary leader had a few words to say himself on the topic.

If you will not fight for right when you can easily win without blood shed; if you will not fight when your victory is sure and not too costly; you may come to the moment when you will have to fight with all the odds against you and only a precarious chance of survival. There may even be a worse case. You may have to fight when there is no hope of victory, because it is better to perish than to live as slaves.

The frightening is that nowadays one can only wonder just how many of us are left who would agree with that last proposition.

Ol’ Remus: now more than ever

I sure do miss that guy.

Making predictions is like dressing in a clown costume and handing meringue pies to passers by. We all do it even though the future is not merely unknown but unknowable. Ask the dinosaurs of 66 million and 33 years ago—Alvarez’s date was published in 1980—how the beach party scheduled for the next day at Chicxulub worked out. Oh that’s right, you can’t, they were all flash-barbequed. So much for simple continuity, much less long term extrapolation. That said, we can predict with sufficient confidence that a truck falling off a cliff will hit bottom, and pretty much when and where. If it doesn’t, we have bigger problems than a predictive miss.

Predictions, if they’re to be understood at all, are to be understood backwards. They comment on the present without directly, you know, commenting on the present. The commenting part is not optional. It is in fact inescapable. Most science fiction is also commentary, the time displacement or alternate reality being bedazzlement to reorient the reader. It’s calculated to evade his prepositioned defenses long enough for The Message to get through intact. Movies are less subtle, we willingly check our disbelief at the door, and it remains suspended unless something blatant disquiets it.

Plain ol’ predictions are more simple minded, more the “trouble with a T, and that rhymes with P, and that stands for POOL” school of commentary, an exercise in connecting dots most of which don’t actually exist. Finally, predictions are like subatomic particles, each one has its anti-particle, both spring from the same source, both are equally valid—and equally not valid. Pollyannas and noble thinkers hew to the one, the pragmatists and battle scarred the other. With all this in mind, or not, we begin.

Constitutional fundamentalism will dominate the 21st century like the New Deal and the New Left dominated the 20th. The one party two-party system is already understood to be profoundly incestuous and irredeemably corrupt. Worse, DC’s actions say it believes the populace to be its enemy. The populace finds less reason to doubt them every day, so DC’s blatant disregard for natural rights and Constitutional guarantees is being challenged as never before, and mere accommodation at the margins is laughably insufficient for the growing ranks of the newly converted.

The movement grossly underestimates itself. To their credit, DC knows better. The ruling class understands this administration may be the last of the wooly mammoths. They’re not looking to defeat constitutionalism, they’re looking to survive it and dominate it. Look for the patricians to decorate the lampposts with their own cadets in a dramatic lunge for absolution and acceptance.

The next Great Depression is happening now. As in the ‘thirties, everything is getting better with the single exception of everything. The stock market as a price discovery mechanism is defunct, Detroit and three dozen or so smaller municipal bankruptcies have shown Munis are no longer credible, and the Federal Reserve has gone about as far into the marshlands as it can and found—more marshland. Now the final notice is in the mail.

Look for rising interest rates to tank the economy, and suddenly so. It’s the same leverage used for the bogus rampup, except working in reverse with a gravity assist. Look for a 25 to 35 per cent drop in real GDP from here, an unexampled calamity. Also expect dollar emergencies to come closer together until they drag it into outright repudiation. DC’s clout and credibility rest squarely on the dollar. Where it goes, they go. All else is blather. Even telephone tappers don’t work for nothing.

It’s said every agency wants to be a police force, and every police force wants to be an army. This is a spectacularly bad idea. In the beginning the municipal police were manned with casual labor in the lower reaches, little more than bailiffs with street duty. Professional law enforcement meant the sheriff—originally: the shire reeve—one of two ancient offices inherited from England, the other being the coroner. There were no police when the Constitution was ratified. Over time they’ve come close to the internal standing army art the founders feared and warned against, and with creeping federal captivity, an army of national occupation.

The schisms within the police over this, and between the populace and the police, are deepening proportionally. In DC’s mind the necessity for an open transformation is getting urgent. Look for a Night of the Long Knives during some crisis or another in the coming years, to purge rogue elements and promote efficiency, natch. Then look for trouble when the people understand the thin blue line has melded with the thick blue line and “protect and defend” means protecting and defending DC—from the people.

There’s every reason to believe the 21st century will be as eventful as the 20th. It’s foolish to expect good outcomes, much less depend on them. Even this little distance in time shows the last century was about Great Leaders building make believe worlds and forcing everybody to live in them until they either died from the consequences or the regime did. It’s no coincidence modern states use prodigious resources to count heads and keep tabs, or that survivalists think a lot about escape and evasion.

In the west the first years of the 21st century have been about disengagement. Much of “collapse” doomers point to is disengagement without sanctioned reengagement elsewhere. The slo-mo dissolution of the EU and back-to-the-land survival communities are examples from the macro and micro ends of the scale. But a trend does not a future make. The future is made the same way a glacier is made, one snowflake at a time. From there on, where it goes is up to the glacier.

Aside from being a true visionary, Remus also had a beautiful way with the language, didn’t he? Since I couldn’t find any way to excerpt it without blunting the overall impact, I just lifted the thing wholesale from WRSA, for which I extend my humblest apologies. In a way, I’m happy that Ol’ Remus didn’t live to witness the current flea circus. On the other hand, though, we could surely use a man of his extraordinary gifts along about now, even moreso in the dark, dark days to come.

Outsider trading

Clown car, clown country, clown world.

If America is a clown country, the ruling class on Wall Street, along with their ruling class friends in Washington, are driving the clown car.

Enter Reddit.

You might have noticed that the suits are very upset this week. That’s because anonymous Redditors, while presumably brushing the Cheeto dust off their laptop keyboards, decided to do a little bit of stock speculation.

They had no fancy tools, no quantitative analysis, no Bloomberg terminals, and they’re certainly not members of the elite class who are entitled to engage in such sophisticated business.

What they did have was unbridled rage and disdain for the drivers of the clown car, and when they found a way to exploit them, they hijacked the clown car for themselves and took it for an epic joyride.

But if there’s anything the ruling class hates, it’s losing money—especially to a bunch of unwashed punks who were laughing in their faces while they sent Melvin Capital hurtling towards bankruptcy. In an instant, the rightful owners of the clown car demanded it back.

You see, only fancy hedge fund managers—members of the Wall Street ruling class—are allowed to decide the value of a stock. Those hedge fund managers decided the value of GameStop, a brick and mortar retailer, was very little. Hence the massive short position. They were allowed to short the stock as they pleased, which of course, in turn, continued to drive down the value of the stock, helping their positions. They knew what they were doing. Their friends at other hedge funds knew it, too, and took full advantage, pummeling GameStop into the ground.

But when Reddit decided the value of GameStop, a cutting-edge video game distribution company, was worth $350 per share (or at least worth enough to watch hedge fund managers cry, which is a hilarious source of entertainment) they were banned from purchasing the stock on almost every platform.

In our clown country, only the ruling class is allowed to win. If the ruling class is not winning, it will simply change the rules of the game.

Matt Taibbi takes the piss:

The only thing “dangerous” about a gang of Reddit investors blowing up hedge funds is that some of us reading about it might die of laughter. That bit about investigating this as a “pump and dump scheme” to push prices away from their “fundamental value” is particularly hilarious. What does the Washington Post think the entire stock market is, in the bailout age?

America’s banks just had maybe their best year ever, raking in $125 billion in underwriting fees at a time when the rest of the country is dealing with record unemployment, thanks entirely to massive Federal Reserve intervention that turned a crash into a boom. Who thinks the “fundamental value” of most stocks would be this high, absent the Fed’s Atlas-like support in the last year?

In other words, it was all well and good for investment banks and executives of phoney-baloney companies to gorge themselves on funhouse profits on a funhouse economy, but when amateurs decided to funnel just a bit of this clown show into their own pockets, finance pros wailed like the grave of Adam Smith had been danced upon.

GameStop has prompted more pearl-clutching than any news story in recent memory. Expert after grave-faced expert has marched on TV to tell Reddit traders that markets are complicated, this isn’t a game, and they wouldn’t be doing this, if they really understood how things work.

“I’m not sure everybody fully understands what’s happening here,” was the melancholy comment on CNBC of Wall Street’s famed fluffer-in-chief, Andrew Ross Sorkin. The author of Too Big to Fail added in pedagogic tones that while this “stick it to the man moment” might feel good, betting up the value of GameStop above Delta Airlines just isn’t right, because “there are no fundamentals here.”

Fundamentals? How much does Sorkin think his exalted Delta Airlines would be worth now, if the Fed hadn’t stopped its death plunge last March? How much would any of the airlines be worth in the Covid age, with their fleets of mothballed jets? What a joke!

Furthermore, everybody “understands” what happened with GameStop. Unlike some other Wall Street stories, this one isn’t complicated. The entire tale, in a nutshell, goes like this. One group of gamblers announced, “Fuck you!” Another group announced back: “No, fuck YOU!”

That’s it. Or, as one market analyst put it to me this morning, “A bunch of guys made a bet, got killed, then doubled and tripled down and got killed even more.”

He digs into the real nitty-gritty of the thing, and it’s worth a read if you’re interested. But for me, “No, fuck YOU!” is all I need to know, and t’will suffice. Anything that reduces The Power to bitching and boo-hoo’ing this way, hey, I’m good with it.

Things are tough all over, kid

Hoft got a letter from a reader in Ireland. I’ll interject myself here and there in this post, not out of orneriness cruelty or anything, but to try to explain a aspects that seem to have eluded him.

Hate to say it, Mr. Hoft – You fought the good fight, and alas it did not go your way. I like you was hoping for a Trump administration no matter how imperfect at the very least it would have preserved many core values dear to us all. Sad to say it appears the spawn of hell has now taken over not only congress but the White House too. My heart is saddened for the decent American people that desire to make your country great again, God knows the entire world needs a strong and honorable America but sad to relate what has happened in your country has made you and the democratic idea the laughing stock of the world; what a loss to mankind. Satan is now loose on the world like never before aided and abetted by Biden, Pelosi, Schumer, Cuomo, Schiff, and many RINOs, assisted by their supportive cohorts within the mass media and big tech.

Minor quibble: the “spawn of hell” didn’t take over Congress and the WH. The WH they took back; Congress, they never really lost at all.

These people have no shame, no sense of decency, no honor, and no loyalty to your Constitution and Bill Of Rights.

You expect too much of the hellspawn, I’m afraid, although your other assessment of their “character” is certainly on point. After all, how can one feel loyalty to a Constitution one actively loathes, and wishes to see destroyed?

I live in Ireland, I’m a patriotic Irishman, I believe in God and try to live my life according to God’s Will but it’s getting harder with the passing of each day.

Not an accident, not a coincidence, not happenstance. Part of a plan.

All my life I never felt hate or malice towards any man but now as I look around me and observe what is going on in our world particularly in America I am hard-pushed to contain those malignant emotions.

Be not ashamed, laddie-buck. When men have repeatedly shown themselves to be profoundly, pridefully evil, it is no less than the solemn duty of any decent, honorable human being to feel hatred and malice towards them. Any leavening of the appropriate utter revulsion for such besmirches one’s own soul.

It seems also that our religious leaders and churches have deserted us all, when we need them most they are silent in the face of this pervasive evil.

Again, it’s far worse than you think. Too many of them are actively in league with it.

We need a wake-up call in Ireland also, American big tech rules the roost over here and our weak-kneed politicians are forever kowtowing to their whims and demands.

They aren’t weak-kneed, and I do badly wish otherwise right-thinking people on both your side of the pond and our own would stop saying it. Thinking of them as “cowards” or “gutless” boobs trapped in a repetitious pattern of “failure” ascribable to a personal flaw—rather than the fully-conscious acts of treachery and collusion they really are—provides an excuse for the deceitful scoundrels that is far more charitable than they deserve. They are co-conspirators, colleagues, and clients. Or maybe “employees” might be more apt. But “weak-kneed”? “Cowards”? The brazen audacity of their corrupt skullduggery puts paid to that silly notion all by its lonesome.

The liberties and freedoms that our forefathers died for are now erased and sadly forgotten, we as a people need to raise our voices once again. For example, Google interfered openly and without any objections been raised by our politicians with our referenda on Gay Marriage and Abortion. What we treasured most as a nation – family and the sanctity of human life have now been consigned to the dustbin of time.

Not accident, not coincidence, not happenstance. Part. Of. A. PLAN.

The European Courts decreed that Apple Computers owed the Irish Exchequer over 14 Billion euros in unpaid taxes and what did our government do it contested the court’s ruling for and on behalf of Apple, what power do they have over us ????, I could cite crazy examples like this all day long but I’ll refrain from doing so lest my head explodes. FaceBook another criminal organization along with Twitter, and a host of the other world’s biggest big tech companies alongside banking and investment groups are all headquartered in Dublin, not for the benefit of the Irish Economy but for their own benefit as each and every one of them has sweetheart deals regarding tax with the Irish Exchequer. Sometimes I wonder is Dublin one of the biggest criminal enterprises in the world, controlled and run by the American Chamber of Commerce situated in Dublin.

One of the biggest? Oh, absolutely not. Whether we’re talking land mass or population, the Emerald Isle has a lot of very stiff competition in the criminal-government department, several of which kleptocracies are much, MUCH bigger.

I digress, my apologies, it was not my intention to burden you with the problems in my country but you must realize that what happens in America always directly impacts my country.

That’s the bright side, see: as FUSA’s collapse hastens and deepens at the greedy hands of its own feckless, clueless rulers, its influence and importance will similarly diminish. Eventually, Amerika V2.0 will be about as relevant globally as any other Third World banana republic. Its desperate floundering and flapping about will be of no use; eventually, the raging seas of Matters Too Big For It will drag the once-mighty nation under, and it will die the death.

That is why I’m saddened by the outcome of what clearly is a stolen election, a country with a fraudulent President whose name I will not mention because it sickens me to do so has lost a magnificent opportunity to set a lot of things right not just for you but for us also.

We can’t really be said to have “lost” the opportunity; actually, we spurned it, we discarded it. To our eternal discredit, alas, and to our great cost as well. Now the country that passively sat back and allowed the thieves to get away with their crime scot-free will get exactly what it deserves—no more, no less.

What they voted for

Good. And. Hard.

LayoffLetter.jpg

Don’t know if it’s for real or not. But I desperately hope that it is.

Next, it would take a heart of stone not to laugh:

WelpLostMyJob.jpg


Heh. That delicate, far-off sound you’re straining to hear is the world’s smallest violin as it plays Hearts And Flowers, expressing my sympathy level for all China Joe-voting idiots suddenly waxing all stunned and dismayed at getting PRECISELY what they voted for. Enjoy your palatial new Tent Homes in a Fauciville near you, assholes.

Speaking of Faucivilles: some of y’all may already know that I’ve spent almost my entire adult life supplementing my perennially pitiful income as a professional writer. The overwhelming majority of my work over lo, these many years has been political essays, with the occasional history- or music-related article, celebrity interview, or random humor piece sprinkled in here and there just to stave off the monotony. I even tried my hand at an autobiographical novel a few years back, at the insistence of several good friends and relatives. I managed to get a bit under three chapters into the thing before having to admit I was in way over my head and giving it up as a bad job.

Oh, and then there was my stint writing porn “letters to the editor” for various Bob Guccione periodicals, about which the less said etc. Who knows, though; I might just decide to do a tell-all about that someday too. Turns out there’s a lot to tell, surprisingly enough. I got that gig via the influence and connections of my dear departed brother Chris Pfouts, another pro scribe who also happened to be one of the best damned writers I’ve even been fortunate enough to know personally.

On my arduous journey through the killing thickets of writerdom I’ve commited one (count ’em, 1) act of true, honest tp goodness journalism—available for perusal using the Leatherballs menu link above;the Myrtle Beach Goodbye piece, should you be at all interested—back when I was working for Outlaw Biker. Now I’ve decided to embark on a second foray into the treacherous toils of Real Journalism, chronicling the incredible blossoming of one of those Fauciville tent-cities becoming increasingly familiar in decrepit urban shitholes all across the “nation.”

It started at the triangle-shaped island where Church Street splits off from southbound North Tryon, which suddenly became host to a small encampment of around fifteen or twenty tents just a few months back. From there the disgusting, garbage-strewn atrocities have multiplied, now engulfing very nearly every last square inch of available ground on the northern quadrant of downtown Charlotte.

Having worked for many years in the downtown CLT area, the sight of homeless sidewalk-dwellers is nothing new to me. But I have never, ever seen anything remotely like this. And it’s by no means the filthy stewbums, crackheads, and mentally-disturbed wretches, mostly Negroes, that we’ve all become familiar with. I know of at least one young-ish white woman with two small children in tow out there too, her overall appearance disheveled but not downright grungy…yet. I’m seeing a rapidly increasing number of others who are similarly outside the bounds of familiar stereotype, looking more like shell-shocked recent arrivals rather than the irretrievably dysfunctional habitues of the shelters and street grates.

What I’m NOT seeing is any local media coverage of this mind-boggling surge of homelessness, which shouldn’t come as a surprise to anybody. “Growing armies of the homeless” media pity-parties, after all, only come along to monopolize tee-wee “news” broadcasts and newspapers when there’s a Republican in the White House. They’re like those old “Grim milestone” body count tallies that were ubiquitous back when “journalists” had Dubya the Genocidal Chimperor’s neck to hang ’em around; maybe you noticed how, despite launching deadly military adventures of every stripe so long as there was no perceivable US interest at stake, the Ogabe junta nonetheless found itself unburdened by the kind of saturation coverage used to hound and hinder his hapless predecessor. Probably just coincidence, I’m sure.

If you want something done, you gotta do it yourself, I suppose. So first chance I get over the next cpl-three days, I’ma go take a few photos of the wreckage. From a distance, that is; I don’t plan on interviewing any of the residents, since what folks used to quaintly call “hobo jungles” are known for being veritable petri dishes for the cultivation of exotic, fatal diseases, as well as the random knifings, rapes, beatings, and sundry mayhem common therein—none of which I have any desire to be subjected to. I’ll get the pics and write a little something up for posting in another day or two.

The Beast at Tanagra

Sokath, his eyes open.

I sure wish I had not learned so much over the last five years. In retrospect, five short years ago seems almost like Mayberry. Here are some important things that I didn’t know five years ago or now.

  • There actually is a Deep State, and those who constitute it really do not honor the election results or the will of the people.
  • There really appear to be lawless elements within the upper echelons of the FBI, CIA, and NSA who are not accountable for their crimes and are thus above the law.
  • The fourth branch of government, the bureaucracy, really is unaccountable to the “unwashed masses.”
  • Many of our top military command, along with many in the military-industrial complex, don’t always hate wars. There’s a lot of money and many promotions to be made during a time of war. The last four years saw no new wars and even troops coming home. For some, that is bad for business.
  • Nineteen Eighty-Four and Animal Farm are no longer works of fiction, but prophecies.

It’s a fairly long list, each item true and accurate, undeniably important too, but…DUDE. You honestly didn’t know all this until five years ago? That must have been one hellaciously tremendous rock you were hiding under all those years, eh?

The good old days of just five short years ago sure do make us nostalgic for Mayberry. Trouble is, we now must decide, how are we to respond with what we now know?

True also. The serious suckage comes in with the grim realization that, after the dismal failure of the soap, ballot, and jury boxes, there’s really only one response with even a ghost of a chance of succeeding. Tragically, that response does NOT involve “voting harder” at them—which actually amounts to re-resorting to Box #2 knowing full well that it already failed us once. For more on that, please refer to Einstein’s (perhaps erroneously attributed) definition of insanity.

For any non-ST/TNG people out there who found them puzzling, the explanation for my title and opening line is here.

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