The long steal

America, New and Old.

One would like to believe these restrictions will soon end and things will return to normal, but consider that we’re still taking our shoes off in airports, and it’s been almost 20 years since the 9/11 attacks. The government doesn’t give up power easily.

The coronavirus has been an incredible boon to the ruling class. This includes government at all levels, where busybody mayors and governors have shown enthusiasm that rivaled slippery federal government frauds like Dr. Anthony Fauci.

Government now has almost unrestricted power to pick and choose the winners. Amazon, Wall Street, Zoom, and various virtual industries are booming. Meanwhile, the working class—made up of waiters and bartenders—finds its employers shuttered. These establishments’ entrepreneurial owners and their dreams are now broken. Many will never recover.

Over the past month, we’ve heard a lot of talk about a stolen election. The story certainly seems to have some legs. But, regardless of the particulars of this contest, the election was stolen long before 2020.

It was stolen in 1965, when millions of foreigners began to be imported to enrich corporate balance sheets and increase the ranks of Democratic voters. No one would think it democracy to make China or Mexico the 51st state, with these new “citizens’” votes overwhelming those of Daughters of the American Revolution or former members of Patton’s Army. But importing 60 million people over 50 years, a population equivalent to the nation of Italy, is treated as a perfectly normal thing. America only had 180 million or so people when this radical social engineering began.

In other words, our country and the ability of the American people to pick its leaders was taken away long before 2020. The swift “bluing” of conservative strongholds such as Texas, Georgia, and Arizona is all part of the plan. The end result will be the one-party governance that we see in places like California.

Whether democratic or not, a country’s laws, customs, and leaders reflect and embody its character. If Trump was the last gasp of the old America, Biden is the embodiment of the new America and its managerial ruling class. Biden will leave little personal mark upon things, and not only because he is senile and lacks independence. He is not really in charge. No one person is.

In this new nation, which has slowly emerged from the social revolution of the 1960s and the managerial revolution of a generation before, the elected leader—like the old Soviet party secretaries—is simply a figurehead for a vast, complex, consensus-oriented party apparatus. And that class does not want an independent people, capable of self-government or resistance. They’ve locked nearly everyone into a system that makes any such gestures a fast track to poverty and powerlessness.

The new America doesn’t need bread and circuses, it has credit scores and Netflix and human resource departments to keep its people in line. People don’t even need to leave the house. And it’s all quite a bit easier for them that way.

The widespread propaganda, rules, and restrictions of 2020 provide a glimmer of hope. Those attached to this new order know that in mingling with one’s fellows at the pub, the water cooler, and in church, we would quickly realize we’re not alone in our anger and frustration. Real-life connections and organizing are the key to an authentic right-wing political movement.

It’s not a coincidence that the Founders met in taverns, nor one that our current ruling class is closing them down.

The more closely you look, the more clearly you see: in New America, there are NO coincidences.

A real breakthrough in the gender-bender wars

FINALLY.

Chuck Norris Comes Out Of Closet As Even More Of A Man
DALLAS, TX—In an explosive interview, Chuck Norris has come out of the closet, finally revealing to the world that he is even manlier than everyone originally thought.

“It’s time to come clean. I’ve been living a lie for so long,” said the martial arts master and action movie star. “For a long time, everyone thought I was a regular manly man who could defeat bad guys with a single roundhouse kick, but the reality is that I think I’m at least three men trapped inside one man’s body.”

The action star went on to explain that for decades, he attempted to conceal his epic manliness in order to blend in with normal men, but kept failing as he amassed black belt after black belt.

“Some people in my life did grow suspicious when it was found that my tears cure cancer even though I’ve never cried, or when it was discovered that Superman wears Chuck Norris Pajamas. I always had some excuse to explain it away, but I’m tired of living that life,” he said.

Scientists worry that if Chuck Norris chooses to outwardly live as his fully manly self, it could be the end of all life in the universe as we know it. Chuck Norris has assured us that if he does accidentally end the universe with his epicness, we don’t have to worry because he’ll just slap together a new one.

I wish you all the best on your courageous, heroic journey of transition, Chuck. Verily, you are an inspiration to us all.

Battlespace prep

People get ready.


Ace quips:

Confused Old Man: If I Have a Disagreement With Kamala I’ll Just Pretend I Have Advanced Cognitive Decline and Resign as Being Mentally Incompetent to Serve as President
—Ace

Well, that’s the gist of Biden’s statement.

The media is saying “No big deal, this is just a joke.”

Oh, a joke?

Weird. As Julie Kelly pointed out, one time Trump made a joke about Hillary’s deleted emails and he got a three year FBI/Special Counsel investigation for it.

But Democrats are permitted to tell jokes?

Interesting.

Oh, it’s a joke all right. I’m sure what Gropey should have said was, “of course I’ll do whatever my handlers tell me to do, up to and including stepping aside to make way for the Real President.” That would be a lot more accurate and honest.

The most wonderful time of the year!

Yes, folks, it is indeed the time of year when some of the most wonderful music yet written comes back around to enchant us all. Yes, I will most certainly be posting the wonderful Cantu/Chanticleer barside team-up on Biebl’s wonderful Ave Maria again this year—count on it. Probably more than once, actually. I swear, no matter how many times I watch that one—about eleventy million so far, I think, but who’s counting—I still get so badly choked up over it that singing along myself, much as I’d surely like to, is simply out of the question.

Anyways, thanks to MisHum and his wonderful ONT, to kick this wonderful season off in a most wonderful way we have something I didn’t see coming.



I always really liked Johnny Winter’s pickin’ but somehow missed this uncharasterically delicate little confection completely over lo, these many years. Talk about UNEXPECTED!™, eh?

We shall not see their like again

From Audie Murphy to Pajama Boy.

Growing up with a father, uncles, and cousins who struggled to maintain our California farm during the Depression and then fought in an existential war was a constant immersion in their predominantly tragic view of life. Most were chain smokers, ate and drank too much, drove too fast, avoided doctors, and were often impulsive—as if in their fifties and sixties, they were still prepping for another amphibious assault or day-time run over the Third Reich. Though they viewed human nature with suspicion, they were nonetheless upbeat—their Homeric optimism empowered by an acceptance of a man’s limitations during his brief and often tragic life. Time was short; but heroism was eternal. “Of course you can” was their stock reply to any hint of uncertainty about a decision. The World War II generation had little patience with subtlety, or even the suggestion of indecision—how could it when such things would have gotten them killed at Monte Cassino or stalking a Japanese convoy under the Pacific in a submarine?

One lesson of the war on my father’s generation was that dramatic action was always preferable to incrementalism, even if that meant that the postwar “best and brightest” would sometimes plunge into unwise policies at home or misadventures abroad. Another lesson the World War II generation learned—a lesson now almost forgotten—was that perseverance and its twin courage were the most important of all collective virtues. What was worse than a bad war was losing it. And given their sometimes tragic view of human nature, the Old Breed believed that winning changed a lot of minds, as if the policy itself was not as important as the appreciation that it was working.

In reaction to the stubborn certainty of our fathers, we of the Baby Boomer generation prided ourselves on introspection, questioning authority, and nuance. We certainly saw doubt and uncertainty as virtues rather than vices—but not necessarily because we saw these traits as correctives to the excesses of the GIs. Rather, as one follows the trajectory of my generation, whose members are now in their sixties and seventies, it is difficult not to conclude that we were contemplative and critical mostly because we could be—our mindset being the product of a far safer, more prosperous, and leisured society that did not face the existential challenges of those who bequeathed such bounty to us. Had the veterans of Henry Kaiser’s shipyards been in charge of California’s high-speed rail project, they would have built on time and on budget, rather than endlessly litigating various issues as costs soared in pursuit of a mythical perfection.

The logical conclusion of our cohort’s emphasis on “finding oneself” and discovering an “inner self” is the now iconic ad of a young man in pajamas sipping hot chocolate while contemplating signing up for government health insurance. Such, it seems, is the arrested millennial mindset. The man-child ad is just 70 years removed from the eighteen-year-olds who fought and died on Guadalcanal and above Schweinfurt, but that disconnect now seems like an abyss over centuries. One cannot loiter one’s mornings away when there is a plane to fly or a tank to build. I am not sure that presidents Franklin Roosevelt, Harry Truman, and Dwight Eisenhower were always better men than were presidents Bill Clinton, Barack Obama, and Donald Trump, but they were certainly bigger in the challenges they faced and the spirit in which they met them.

This New Year’s Eve, let us give a toast to the millions who are no longer with us and the thousands who will soon depart this earth. They gave us a world far better than they inherited.

How painfully ironic, then, that their unappreciative heirs should turn out to be the weak, soft, whiny little pissants they are, with each successive generation more contemptible than the one before it.

Crash and burn

Every time I see the “get woke go broke” shibboleth it annoys the living crap out of me, since to my knowledge there hasn’t been a single “woke” corporation that did anything but go right on thriving in the wake of boycotts, protests, and the like. At worst, they may take a temporary bottom-line hit in the early stages of whatever controversy crops up. But as time passes, tempers cool, attention wanes, and people resume their previous shopping habits, the wayward company or organization always seems to bounce back rather quickly.

Fingers and toes crossed for Faux “News” proving to be the exception.

Fox News is taking action to stave off newfound competition from Newsmax TV.

Producers on some Fox programs have been told to monitor Newsmax’s guest bookings and throw some sand in Newsmax’s gears by encouraging guests who appear on both channels to stop saying yes to the upstart.

According to Fox sources, producers were told to avoid some regular guests if they kept showing up on Newsmax after being encouraged to stop. Management’s goal: to remind guests who’s boss in the right-wing media world.

The cautionary note, from Ace.

CNN link. I wouldn’t click. This article is by CNN’s Chief Deplatforming Officer Tater, with additional reporting by their Senior Deplatforming Associate Oliver Darcy. It claims that all of Newsmax’s gains are due to “conspiracy theories,” because, of course.

Anything Tater doesn’t like is a “conspiracy theory.”

Except Russia Collusion, of course!

Fox News denies this. But they’re lying.

Of course they are. Despite the previous “get woke go broke” record of futility, though, there could be real hope for a spectacular augering-in this time around. I mean, think about it: does anybody really NEED another CNNBCBABPBS?

Do not obey illegal edicts

rockwell_thanksgiving-web-2.jpg

You know the long-gathering storm is just about to break when as innocuous and purely American a tradition as Thanksgiving dinner has become an act of defiance and rebellion. Please note also that no one in Rockwell’s classic painting is wearing a face-diaper. Thomas Jefferson wouldn’t have worn one, either.

Update! A last Thanksgiving thought: while listening to the local classical-music station yesterday and today, there were the usual continual references to “giving thanks” and “expressing gratitude” and such-like shopworn homilies. Just par for the course on Thanksgiving weekend, naturally. Then it struck me: the radio personalities all being standard-issue, Mark-1 Mod-0 shitlibs, to Whom exactly might they be so piously urging one and all to “give thanks,” anyway?

I mean, being shitlibs, one can safely assume that they’re all standard-issue, Mark-1 Mod-0 atheists as well, no? A reflexive hostility towards Christianity and/or Orthodox Judaism is one of the identifying traits of their species, bred into the bone for these characters. Radical Islam is okay, of course. Maybe some bizarre, obscure offshoot of Buddhism. A self-righteous nod towards “spirituality,” the more nebulous and unspecific the better, will get you by in some quarters.

Whatevs. Yeah, give thanks, everybody, and for your many blessings be humbly grateful. To, say, your sister’s cat’s grandmother, I suppose. Or your “transgender” LGBTQXZFHMBK “husband,” who is currently great with y’all’s very first (non-binary) child.

The good word from a good cop

Resist unlawful edicts.

I work as a patrol officer in a suburb of a major U.S. metropolitan area, so I know that no good cop is interested in enforcing tyrannical and unending lockdown orders from state and local executives. Some police departments are openly declaring they won’t enforce these orders, and plenty more of this is happening quietly behind the scenes.

In many localities, law enforcement is doing little to enforce often unconstitutional edicts from governors amid the country seemingly hating cops. Yes, the horror stories make the news, and there are too many of these. A woman was arrested at an outdoor event and tased for not wearing a mask—for being outside in the fresh air. A man was forced off a bus in Philadelphia. Two homeless men were arrested for not wearing masks in Nashville.

Yet of course you never hear about cops slowly going to an alleged mask violation so the person can leave. It doesn’t make the news, but I can tell you it happens—a lot.

While typical calls slowed under lockdowns, with governors’ executive orders came an increase in a different type of call: The executive order violation. The pandemic increased the social and police power of the busybody, and executive power now empowered tattletales and nosy people. As cops dealing with more serious issues daily, we knew complaints about people not wearing masks properly were a complete waste of our time and public resources.

I remember going for a call complaining about six people standing on a suburban street corner talking to each other not “social distancing.” I drove by waving and when I came back the culprits were gone.

While typical calls slowed under lockdowns, with governors’ executive orders came an increase in a different type of call: The executive order violation. The pandemic increased the social and police power of the busybody, and executive power now empowered tattletales and nosy people. As cops dealing with more serious issues daily, we knew complaints about people not wearing masks properly were a complete waste of our time and public resources.

Local playgrounds were closed and skate parks were chained and locked. Skateboarders decided to do something about that. The skateboarders presumably cut a hole in the fence and entered the outdoor skate park.

An older gentleman walked over to me, as I was near this skate park at the time. He politely told me there were people in the skate park and the skate park was closed. I had my required face covering on, but he must have seen half the expression on my face. He paused and said, “I guess I’m being a rat, huh?” My reply: “You said it, sir.”

Good on ya, Officer; no matter how many like you there are out there, we’ll never have near enough. Unsurprisingly, given his obvious common sense and humane perspective, the man knows where the bigger problem lies.

Yes, governors, mayors, and executives give orders. The rank and file police officer is the one tasked with enforcing them. What you have to worry about is the police chief and commanders requiring arrests and statistics. You have to worry about the busybody with connections to someone in power.

And we have to worry about the meddlesome bluenoses among the citizenry even more—people eager to drop a dime on their neighbors, just for the shivery thrill of quasi-carnal ecstasy they get from the ability to exert control over their fellows, if at one remove from real authority. Tapeworms like those are the scourge of life in modern America, as far as I’m concerned. Their total disdain for the basic right to simply be left alone defines them as the most un-American of Americans, the very people the Founders warned their posterity about.

Uprising update! More good cops, in the most unexpected of locales.

Sheriffs in five Southern California counties with a total population of 17.25 million people — equivalent to the fifth most populous state — are defying that state’s governor. They will not arrest people for violating the statewide curfew that Governor Gavin Newsom has imposed starting today, apparently on the belief that the virus wakes up and goes out at 10 P.M.

According to Bill Melugin of Fox 11 in LA, EVERY sheriff in their SoCal viewing area except the LA Sheriff’s Dept itself, has officially refused to enforce Newsom’s draconian and illegal edict, and even the LASD says they will not be making any arrests for noncompliance. Nor is it just the sheriffs who are standing upright to do the right thing; Ontario and Laguna Beach city PDs will not “actively enforce” the Imperial decree as well. And the movement is spreading north as well.

Other sheriffs in Northern California, including Sacramento County, where the governor now lives, are also refusing to enforce the curfew.

As well they oughta be. I mean, come on: We’re seriously discussing a fucking MANDATORY CURFEW now? In what’s ostensibly America?!?

God help us.

NYC gets the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree it voted for

Good. And. Hard.


What with the above sorry spectacle, plus THEVIRUSTHEVIRUSTHEVIRUS!!! skulking about to deepen the whole disaster, it adds up to a real haymaker of a holiday punch. I’m afraid there’s only option remaining now.



No Rudolph on the horizon to pull our chestnuts out of the fire this time, sad to say. Hey, better luck next year, kiddies. Not to worry; I’m SURE “president” Biden will be able to put things right for 2021.

Are we not men?

We are Devo.

Somehow, being Cool blew up in America’s face. Cool became cringe, and cringe is everywhere you look.

That goes hand in hand with the Land Of The Free having slowly become the Home Of The Cowed—a sad, sorry transition that had the cherry put on top of it this past summer.

Legend, or CIA-funded propaganda, tells us the exact moment that Nikita Khrushchev knew the USSR was finished. It was 1959, and the Soviet premier was jetting out from LA as the sun dropped into the Pacific. Window-adjacent, thousands of feet up, Niki looked down, and there it was: American superabundance. Villa after villa after villa, each with its backyard swimming pool and its own gleaming Chevrolet Bel Air convertible, rolling into a cavernous garage. Our comrade was flattened — how many five-year plans would it take to have comforts like this? Game over, man.

On the margins of this civilization which Khrushchev envied, a diffuse set of heretics, misfits, pariahs, outcasts and hipsters of all ethnicities invented American Cool. Embryonic in the Jazz Age, clumsily developed by the Beats, accidentally incarnate in Elvis and studiously incarnate in Miles Davis, Cool was everywhere, even official, by the early years of the Sixties. It was an ironic attitude, a nonchalant pose, a controlled pout. Largely but not solely a male attribute, Cool was the armor plate worn by JFK and Steve McQueen, Roy Lichtenstein and Andy Warhol, Sidney Poitier and Saul Bellow. By the end of the decade it was seethingly and suddenly teenaged. Cool went mad. Waiting for a rain of hydrogen bombs to close the human era, terrified by the Draft, the privileged children of that American super-abundance embraced sex, drugs, rock and rebellion.

The baby boomers’ struggle against all received wisdom summoned Godzilla-strength antagonists like John Wayne, William F. Buckley and Allan Bloom, each with his own charisma to burn. Depth, cosmic ambition, danger, juice, rigor — American culture was fulfilling its promise. ‘Let us boldly condemn all imitation,’ Herman Melville wrote in 1850, ‘and foster all originality.’ Well, here it was at last. The whole world, as the radicals of the time liked to say, was watching.

America’s cultural machinery jammed in the late Sixties. In the decades that followed, Cool burned itself out in the Culture Wars. This agonizing and often illusory conflict is many things. Cool is not one of them. Before it sprouted liver spots, the Culture War was at least capable of the odd vital explosion. Witness Town Bloody Hall (1979): witness Norman Mailer (in 1971), fresh from writing an essay on the sex war he described as ‘the most important single intellectual event of the last four years’, as he bluffs, batters, bristles and flirts his way through an electric two-hour debate with hardcore gynocrats Germaine Greer, Diana Trilling, Susan Sontag and Jill Johnston. ‘You are all singularly without wit,’ Mailer snarls, while the libbers hiss. It’s pure theater. The sexual chemistry between Mailer and Greer could have powered USS Gerald R. Ford.

How does the sex war play out today? Agonizingly, like all Culture War battles. Take Cardi B and her porno-rap single ‘WAP’ (the initials stand for ‘Wet-Ass Pussy’). Released in August, it rapidly became the most streamed and most watched single in Billboard 100 history. Miss B, who is shaped like five Hindenburgs stuffed into a fat suit, was the focus of much try-hard celebratory commentary by the femo-hacks who staff so many of our Republic’s prestige publications. Who would defend virtue, propriety and what Roman rapper Cicero called the summum bonum against this delirious filth?

Ben Shapiro, knight-at-arms, that’s who. Seeing the opportunity to start yet another pointless moral fracas, Shapiro devoted a fussy podcast segment to Ms B’s lyrics, which range from the drolly risqué to the uncomfortably gynecological. Shapiro, whose wife is a doctor, suggested that Ms B and her fellow lyricist Megan Thee Stallion bragging about requiring ‘bucket and mop’ for their ‘pussies’ suggested they required urgent medical attention. Ho, ho, ho! Gleefully, thousands upon thousands of Twitter accounts then suggested that Shapiro had never aroused any women, anywhere, poor Mrs Shapiro included.

There was, unfortunately, more. A few weeks later, Ms B, whose entire shtick is boasting about her sexual prowess, was humiliated in turn by the public collapse of her marriage to the rapper Offset. It seemed he’d been bucket-and-mopping behind her back for years. By the end, every participant in this toe-curling saga was diminished, smaller than before. That’s the Culture of Cringe in miniature.

Inexplicably, in a sprawling examination of America’s long-dominant Culture Of Cool and its reduction to nothing but a limp, wispy caricature of its former robust self, the author fails to mention Frank Sinatra even one time. Notwithstanding that bizarre omission, it’s still a pretty interesting read if you’re into that sort of thing. Which, we probably ALL ought to be a lot more “into that sort of thing” than we have been to date, given the demonstration we’re witnessing even now of just how critical the Culture Wars can be when it comes to the overall fate of the nation.

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