On moving forward, looking back, and standing still

Any article that opens with Cromwell’s most well-remembered quote is bound to catch my eye, and this too-brief piece is some seriously heady stuff.

“Is it therefore infallibly agreeable to the Word of God, all that you say? I beseech you, in the bowels of Christ, think it possible you may be mistaken.”–Oliver Cromwell, letter to the general assembly of the Church of Scotland (3 August 1650)

Five years ago, I wrote a book about evolution and human cognition. This was a stretch for me, as I am a three-time English major, so I did a lot of research. It was fascinating research, which taught me a lot of important things about knowledge, human nature, cognition, and storytelling. It also taught me the single most depressing thing that I know, which is this: human reason did not evolve to help us find the truth; it evolved to help us defend positions arrived at in largely unreasonable ways.

The reasons for this lie deep in the reptilian corners of our brains. Natural selection selects for what is useful, which may or may not be what is true. Decisiveness is useful. Appearing confident is useful. Defending one’s turf is useful. And winning fights is always useful. But knowing the truth about abstract universal propositions involving beauty, truth, and God? Not so much. It turns out that appearing to know the truth about these things is much more valuable, evolutionarily speaking, than actually being right.

Culture reinforces these evolutionary dynamics in different ways. Mormon culture, for example, places an enormous premium on appearing to know the truth, especially in religious matters. Few people ever stand up in testimony meeting to proclaim that they think the Church is true, or even that they hope or believe the Church is true. From the time we can talk, we announce from the pulpit that we know the Church is true. We know it from the bottom of our hearts, with every fiber of our beings, absolutely, certainly, completely, just like Moroni promised.

But here’s the deal: you are wrong about stuff. I am wrong about stuff. We are all wrong about stuff. This is just math. Given the number of things that all of us believe (or do not believe) to be facts, the number of things that we consider (or do not consider) valuable, and the number of policies that we think (or do not think) will work, there is no possible way that we are going to be right about everything. We understand this retroactively. We can all remember times that we were wrong in the past. But such is the nature of human cognition that we can barely even fathom what we might be wrong about today.

And this is why Cromwell’s challenge–“I beseech you, in the bowels of Christ, think it possible you might be mistaken”–is so important to us (and yes, I do realize how ironic it is to quote Oliver Cromwell on the possibility of being wrong). Another word for this is “humility.” This is important because it actually is part of our religion, and because it makes us people that other people can stand to be around. But it is also important because, as a matter of near-mathematical certainty, we actually are wrong about some religious things–and probably quite a few.

Yeah, well, with so many Leftards all around us nowadays, humility has necessarily become a quite scarce commodity.

Woke is a joke

Like Ed says, there’s so much tasty stuff here it’s tough to decide what to excerpt, or how much. In the way of our esteemed colleague John Wilder, to excerpt it is to ruin it. Or, as Salieri said of Mozart’s music in Amadeus: Displace one note and there would be diminishment, displace one phrase and the structure would fall.

The dawn of the anti-woke era
Having rejected the Democrats’ progressivist dogma, the American electorate is undergoing a social and demographic revolution.

In late November, a California judge rejected a demand by several women’s volleyball teams to disqualify a transgender player for San Jose State before this year’s tournament. Six opponents have forfeited games against the team this year rather than collude in what they see as cheating. The larger question of transgender athletes in college sports will be decided later, but the judge is defending a lost cause. Fewer than a quarter of Americans (23 per cent) support allowing transgender athletes to play on women’s teams. Teams that do field trans athletes are sometimes booed off the pitch. Such feelings go a long way towards explaining Donald Trump’s resounding win in November’s presidential elections.

Washingtonians are often asked what it feels like to watch the second age of Trump dawn. Oddly, it does not feel much like his first arrival in 2016. It feels more like Barack Obama’s in 2008 or Bill Clinton’s in 1992 – less a political than a social revolution, in which philosophical habits will be broken along with political hierarchies. This particular social revolution owes most of its energy to a revulsion against woke. That is the source of the new era’s promise and danger.

Trump left office only four years ago. Washington rejected him – somatically, as in a botched organ transplant. Having squeaked into power on an anti-establishment platform, he arrived in the capital to find the establishment bloodied but unbowed. Hostile neighbours on Tennyson Street hung rainbow flags in front of the house where his vice-president Mike Pence was staying during the transition. By the CVS drugstore at Connecticut Avenue and McKinley, activists waved signs at honking motorists throughout December. The day after the inauguration in 2017, over 200,000 women, decked out in “pussyhats” and led by establishment celebrities from Scarlett Johansson to Emma Watson, descended on the Mall. It shook the city: it was the largest collection of protest marchers since the Vietnam War, and drew a considerably larger crowd than the inauguration ceremony. The mood was defiant.

There’s none of that now. The mood in Washington’s progressive neighbourhoods is more one of muttered commiseration. (And they are all progressive neighbourhoods: in the capital city, Harris defeated Trump 93 per cent to 7 per cent.)

The result was revolutionary, and not in the way Democrats intended: anyone with a sense of fair play would be tempted to vote for a fellow who had been, as the playwright David Mamet put it, “raided, indicted, convicted, sued, slandered and shot”. But at this point, to do so would be to declare the judicial system corrupt. In the end, half the country did just that: suburbanites wore T-shirts with Trump’s mug shot on them. Grannies danced giddily on TikTok: “Here’s how it feels to vote for a convicted felon!”

The country is floating free of its laws. That is what gives the present its feeling of open-ended promise and peril. If Trump decides to investigate the Biden administration’s connection to these cases, will it be sauce for the gander, or a sign of authoritarian tendencies? Hard to say. Every elected official poses some risk of turning authoritarian. Mostly, we assume it’s one in 100, or one in 1,000. But the more discontented an electorate is, the higher a risk it may run.

There, that ought to be sufficient motivation for y’all to click on over and read the whole thing. Of course, Caldwell throws in some of the usual “Trump lost in 2020 fair and square” bushwa which has become de rigeur for Old Media essayists these days, along with the now-obligatory “baseless” codswallop I railed about last night. All in all, though, it’s a good piece; his brief rundown deriding Trump’s “34 felonies” is especially pungent, and the rest is well-written and quite insightful at the very least.

On reality

And, y’know, NOT.

No, you aren’t
So I saw a dude (and yes, it had the adam’s apple, so a dude) wearing a skirt with leggings (and really nice heels) and a shirt that said “Everyone is entitled to their own view of reality” I couldn’t help but tell him: “No, reality is what it is, denying it makes you a fool and an idiot.” He got mad and pouted. No matter, he’s still a man, in a skirt. Not a chick. “Don’t call me Stupid!” say he. “Then don’t act stupid or say stupid shit, says I”…He flounced off in a huff. I laughed out loud at his back.

Just because a woman wants to think “Big is Beautiful” doesn’t mean that fat girls are as pretty or attractive as women who take care of themselves. Shy’s lying to herself or to her fat friend. Trans people (I.E. Men that pretend to be women or women who pretend to be men) are not the opposite sex just because they put on a skirt or pants. To believe otherwise is stupid. Trans men can’t have babies or nurse, and trans women are not strong men, even with supplements of Testosterone. Saying otherwise is stupid.

I can believe I can fly all I want, right up ’til I step off that cliff. Being upset when reality (and the ground) smacks me in the face is stupid….Stepping off the cliff is stupid. Don’t like the truth? Reality and the world just don’t care. Being upset that you can’t fly is also stupid.

Man or woman (and those are the only choices), to deny reality is stupid and it really is stupid to think otherwise. Reality is what it is. Deal with it. Stop being foolish.

We, as a society, need to stop pandering to people, be they straight or trans or gay, men or women, old or young, that feel that their alternate view of reality is just as valid.

Seems simple enough, no? Obvious; beyond argument; plain for all with eyes to see; as fair as fair ever gets in this life—none but a fool, a madman, or a stubborn, spoiled child would think to object. So readily apparent is it, in fact, that it shouldn’t have to be said at all; even the most rudimentary powers of observation will confirm that to contend otherwise is a pointless waste of time and/or energy.

And yet, somehow…well, here we all are nonetheless.

Via Bayou Peter, who adds:

This blatant falsehood manifests itself particularly in the “You can’t criticize me! You can’t judge me! You can’t say I’m wrong!” crowd. Look, if what you’re believing, or preaching, or doing, flies in the face of objective fact and natural reality, I can judge you (your actions, at any rate – not your soul, that’s God’s business) and I can say you’re wrong. I will. Loudly and frequently. To indulge your false fantasy would make me as guilty of ignoring reality as you are!

I saw this particularly as a prison chaplain. We had psychologists on staff whose job was to help inmates figure out where they’d gone wrong, and help them to change. The problem is that far too many of those psychologists tried to lead the inmate to come to the right conclusions on his or her own, without actually telling them they were wrong. In many cases, those inmates had never been taught how to think, and had none of the normal frame of reference (morality, civics, etc.) used in our society. To expect them to come to the “right” conclusions when they were filled with the “wrong” personal history, information (or the lack thereof), relationships, etc. was nonsensical – yet those psychologists persisted in that approach. They had to. That’s what the “system” demanded – and that’s why we have a 70%+ recidivism rate among US prison inmates over the first five years after they’re released.

Plenty more at both links, all of it well worth reading.

PERsecution, not PROsecution

What an ugly, sordid mess.

Donald Trump will not go to jail or be put on probation for being convicted of 34 charges that never should have been brought against him by a prosecutor who could never articulate the criminal conduct that led to those charges and sentenced by a judge who claimed that Trump’s election put him above the law.

Partisan hatred and revenge drove this prosecution. Alvin Bragg, the Manhattan district attorney, brought charges against Trump for falsifying his business records to hide payments made to pornstar Stormy Daniels. 

Falsifying business records is a misdemeanor. But in order to bump the charges up to a felony, Bragg claimed that the records were altered for political purposes and that Trump tried to hide the payments because they would have damaged him so severely that he would have lost to Hillary Clinton in 2016.

“We allege falsification of business records to the end of keeping information away from the electorate,” Bragg said in a January 2024 interview with NY1. “It’s an election interference case.”

The business records that Bragg said Trump altered to get elected were dated from Feb. 14, 2017, to Dec. 5, 2017. That’s right. Bragg was making the case that the falsified records allowed Trump to defeat Clinton after the election was already held and Trump was in the White House.

Did that stop the media from claiming that Trump “interfered” with the election?

Of course it didn’t. That’s why doing anything other than just shooting them in the fucking face outright, in job lots, is a complete waste of time. It’s something dumb fucks like Boehner, Romney, Juanny Mav, et al never seem able to grok: no matter how much or how long you try to make nice with Progtards, they will always, always, ALWAYS turn around and bite you the instant they think it will help them advance Teh Agenda. If they’re going to do that—and they are, every single time, no matter what—then why bother trying to make nice with them at all? It wastes your time and annoys the pig, as the old admonitory joke goes.

Reasons why

I didn’t obtain permission to run this from the author, which perhaps I ought to’ve. Ah well, hopefully he won’t be offended; knowing him as well as I do, for as long as I have, I really don’t think he’ll have any objection.

Received a short email from a fella who’s been hanging around this h’yar hogwallow since the Aulden Thymes, a kindred spirit and all-around righteous dude with whom I’ve enjoyed a cordial e-correspondence for years. The latest example, name and location of course omitted:

Mike,

I’ll keep this brief, but wanted to thank you most sincerely for the recent series of postings. I had despaired of ever feeling anything like that again at Christmas in my twilight years. Better that Christmas should arrive late in my heart than not at all. Today, at least, I have hope for this miserable world that, in spite of (nay, because of) current happenings, it cannot deny God’s grace and mercy.

Have a most blessed Christmas, friend.

The emaiI’s subject line was “The Sounds of Christmas,” arriving just after the third and final installment of this year’s Christmas music fest had been published. I’m sure I don’t need to tell anybody here how thoroughly this missive made my day, my week, my whole damned year. Made me feel good in a way I haven’t in way too long.

As I’ve related here several times, there have been occasions over lo, these many years when I decided I was all done with this blogging business; I’d said all I had to say, was bored to tears with the whole kit and kaboodle. I would announce my “retirement,” leave that post up for a week or so, then back up the whole site and database, download the backups to the trusty iMac, and delete everything from the server forever. Nobody cared, least of all me. Blogger burn-out is real; I’ve always felt that stepping away from the Innarnuts for a few days is an absolute necessity for anybody who wants to maintain his sanity, his sense of proportion, his psychological equilibrium, if any.

It was my feeling at such moments that, while in my opinion I’d done a bang-up job of designing, setting up, and running the blog these last twenty-some-odd years, and that I still drew some enjoyment from writing essays here, I was finally gonna quit. I think—screw that, I KNOW—that I’m a good writer, that I’m smart, that I’m blessed with an unusual outlook and worldview. My life-experience is unique and multifaceted; I have definitely been there and done that, whatever “there” and “that” might be. Drawing on those not-inconsiderable gifts, I know I can provide like-minded folks with entertainment, food for thought, maybe a hearty laugh now and then.

Even so, I felt the time had come for me to move on, God only knows to what. There ain’t any money in this blogging stuff, not for small-fry types like myself anyway; although I’m deeply grateful for every red cent of it, losing the tiny trickle of subscription/donation money generated by CF and the Eyrie wouldn’t hurt too much. I suppose it’s a different story for big fish like Ace, Reynolds, Hoft, etc. Be that as it may be, the fact remains that I ain’t them, and they ain’t me.

And each and every time this end-of-blog-days mood came over me and I was ready to pull the plug at long, long last, an email would come over the iMac transom from some grunt or Gyrine (even one Blackhawk pilot, which is a whole ‘nother amazing story in its own right; a senior career chopper-jock with extensive combat experience, he was actually involved in…um, never mind, I’m sworn to secrecy on that op) in Iraq, Afghanistan, or another of the world’s garden spots, saying something along these lines:

Dear Mike,

Can’t thank you enough for the Cold Fury blog. Each morning when we roll out of the sack my fire team/squad/platoon-mates brew up some shitty issue coffee, then we all gather around the laptop/cell phone/whatever to check out your latest posts. We all agree that your blog is just about the only thing that keeps us going in this shithole day after day, we all enjoy it more than you’ll ever know.

Reading your blog gives us something to look forward to in this God-forsaken desert/jungle/mountain hellhole—something to talk about while we’re out on patrol, in the mess tent, pulling guard, or just kicking back and chillaxin’ behind the wire. Keep up the good work, HOO-YAH!!!

And BANG, ZOOM! There it all was, hurled right into my teeth by a stern God whose sardonic sense of humor can never be gainsaid, in the very nick of time before I took certain irrevocable steps I would later regret. There was but one correct response to such a jawdropping compliment, which was to grin, shake my head, square my shoulders, and tell myself, “You pathetic puke! Quitcher bitchin’, get yer sad-sack ass over to the desk, and get back to work! Nut the fuck up, check the attitude, and stand the fuck TO, you simple sumvabitch…”

Just that quick, just that easy, suddenly I was reinvigorated. The good old creative fire blazed anew within a spirit that had mere moments before been suffused with weariness, ennui, and indifference, the desire to reflect, research, and write fully restored. If I no longer wanted to do it for myself—which I knew deep down had never really been so in the first place—then I could damned well do it for them.

The brief email up top gave me the same feeling, the same quickening, the same rush. I mean, come ON, man! How many of us can lay claim to doing such a worthwhile thing all unawares for someone, for anyone? When I discussed it with my brother Jeff yesterday, we agreed that it was more or less the same with the band: you sweat, you strive, you put it out there scattershot just as far and as wide as you can without ever really knowing who your work might be affecting, or how. In fact, you CAN’T know, not really, which is as it should be.

Ultimately, every writer, every musician, every worth-his-salt artist in every creative discipline is in the business not of receiving but of givingendlessly, profligately, every minute of every day, forever and ever Amen. Professional or amateur, struggling, successful, or somewhere in-between, the day comes for each and every serious artist when he or she will be smacked in the face with that home truth, HARD, a life-lesson none of us ever forgets. If you fancy yourself a Creative Type yet chafe at this bedrock principle you’re definitely in the wrong line of work, and should trot your happy ass off and put in an application at Wal Mart or Red Lobster or EZ-Park or some other such outfit you’re better suited for temperamentally toot fucking sweet.

You nock the arrow, bend your bow, release the bow-string, and let the arrow fly straight and true towards a target you can’t even see. Once in a rare while, though, you get to hear the THUNK! when your arrow plunges dead-center into the target. If that’s the one and only reward on offer, best latch onto it with both hands then, and hold on with all your might. Otherwise, that precious jewel will get away from ya every time. As rewards go it might not seem like much, but it damned sure ain’t nothing, either.

When all’s said and done, the rock-bottom truth is that the work is its OWN reward; anything beyond that is just gravy. Be honest, be humble, and above all be grateful; keep that in mind, keep your chin up no matter what, and you’ll be all right. Calls for a rerun of another personal favorite, I believe.

Here endeth the lesson.

Democracy dies in daylight

Related to the update in the previous post, definitely, albeit as the exception that proves the rule.

The crisis of democracy is really a crisis for the left
Why is the left flailing? Look at New York vs. Florida.

Countries with more than half of the world’s population went to the polls last year. And the basic message they sent to their governments was one of dissatisfaction and anger with the status quo. Their frustration seemed to be particularly focused on the side that has traditionally been identified with big government, the left.

Almost everywhere you look, the left is in ruins. Of the 27 countries of the European Union, only a handful have left-of-center parties leading government coalitions. The primary left-of-center party in the European Parliament now has just 136 seats in a 720-seat chamber. Even in countries that have been able to stem the rise of right-wing populism, such as Poland, it is the center-right that is thriving, not the left. And in the United States, of course, the breadth of Donald Trump’s victory — nearly 90 percent of U.S. counties moved right — suggests that it is very much part of this trend.

The crisis of democratic government then, is actually a crisis of progressive government. People seem to feel that they have been taxed, regulated, bossed around and intimidated by left-of-center politicians for decades — but the results are bad and have been getting worse.

New York, where I live, and Florida, where I often visit, provide an interesting contrast.

They have comparable populations — New York with about 20 million people, Florida with 23 million. But New York state’s budget is more than double that of Florida ($239 billion vs. roughly $116 billion). New York City, which is a little more than three times the size of Miami-Dade County, has a budget of more than $100 billion, which is nearly 10 times that of Miami-Dade. New York City’s spending grew from 2012 to 2019 by 40 percent, four times the rate of inflation. Does any New Yorker feel that they got 40 percent better services during that time?

What do New Yorkers get for these vast sums, generated by the highest tax rates in the country? (If you are well off in New York City, you pay nearly as much in income taxes as in London, Paris or Berlin — without free higher education or health care.) New York’s poverty rate is higher than Florida’s. New York has a slightly lower rate of homeownership and a much higher rate of homelessness. Despite spending more than twice as much on education per student, New York has educational outcomes — graduation rates, eighth-grade test scores — that are roughly the same as Florida’s.

There’s more at the link, but the above excerpt, particularly the FLA-NY compare/contrast, says pretty much everything you need to know. Regarding my post title, the aformentioned excerpt is from a WaPo article, and I couldn’t resist the temptation to stand their shitty little motto on its empty head.

(Via Ace)

Ask a stupid question

Get an obvious answer.

Could the Feds Have Been Involved in the New Orleans Jihad Massacre?
Would they do such a thing?

Robert, Robert, Robert. You know the answer to that as well as I do, as well as everybody who’s been paying any attention at all does: OF COURSE they would. And, y’know, did, in all likelihood.

Trust in our government has lowered to the point that some people are suggesting that the New Orleans jihad massacre was aided and abetted, or even concocted, by the feds in order to stir up unrest as Trump prepares to return to the presidency, or to create a pretext for some other action. Some of those who are making suggestions of this kind, such as Candace Owens, just want to find some plausible way to blame Jews, or to claim that it’s all in the service of trying to get the U.S. involved in a war in the Middle East on behalf of Israel. Those types, including Owens herself, tend to downplay or deny outright the reality of Islamic jihad, preferring to see virtually all the workings of the wide world as the puppet show of the all-powerful and ever-unseen Zionists. Still, would the feds really get involved in a jihad plot to kill Americans? Sure.

No one really knows for sure, except the conspirators, if there are any, whether or not the feds are involved. And jihad is real, as the news out of Africa, Asia and Europe shows daily. Still, the question must be asked: would the feds really aid and abet a jihad terror attack? Have they really become that corrupt and compromised? And the answer is: yes. Of course they would, and yes, they’re that corrupt. The evidence for this fact lies in their behavior at the Muhammad Art Exhibit and Cartoon Contest that Pamela Geller and I organized in May, 2015.

The Daily Beast wrote in August 2016 about how this undercover FBI agent encouraged the jihadis. The Beast’s Katie Zavadski wrote: “Days before an ISIS sympathizer attacked a cartoon contest in Garland, Texas, he received a text from an undercover FBI agent. ‘Tear up Texas,’ the agent messaged Elton Simpson days before he opened fire at the Draw Muhammad event, according to an affidavit (pdf) filed in federal court Thursday.”

This was not entrapment. Simpson and his partner Nadir Soofiwere determined jihadis who had scouted out other targets. Simpson, along with Soofi and another jihadi, Abdul Malik Abdul Kareem, who supplied weapons to the pair and helped train them, sought information about pipe bombs and plotted to attack the Super Bowl, and planned to go to Syria to join the Islamic State (ISIS), long before anyone told him to “tear up Texas.”

But what was the FBI’s game in telling them to do that? Why didn’t they have a phalanx of agents in place, ready to stop the attack? Or did they want the attack to succeed, so that Barack Obama’s vow that “the future must not belong to those who slander the prophet of Islam” would be vividly illustrated, and intimidate any other Americans who might be contemplating defending the freedom of speech into silence?

We twice asked the FBI for an investigation into this matter. They ignored us, of course.

One mo’ time ag’in: OF COURSE they did. Anybody surprised by that at this late date is a pluperfect five-star fucking moron.

Ready for a REAL insurrection?

Julie Kelly certainly is.

January 6, 2025: The Real Insurrection Begins
The original Jan 6 narrative died in spectacular fashion. Monday’s proceedings represent the start of a legitimate insurrection against a corrupt, unaccountable, and failed government in Washington.

It’s a plot twist even the most creative—or diabolical—fiction writer never would have imagined.

On Monday afternoon, Vice President Kamala Harris will preside over Congressional proceedings to certify the election of Donald Trump, who defeated her in the 2024 presidential election.

The moment will represent one of many surreal moments on a date—January 6—that the Biden regime, news media, and Democratic voters consider one of the darkest times in American history. In fact, Harris herself categorizes January 6, 2021 alongside September 11, 2001 and December 7, 1941 as events she claims “remind all who have lived through them where they were…when our democracy came under assault.”

Four years ago, the ruling class in Washington attempted to commit what all evidence now points to as the premeditated murder of the MAGA movement. Powerful political and government saboteurs aligned to stoke the events of January 6, a four-hour disturbance those same saboteurs immediately branded an “insurrection.”

But it all came crashing down on November 5, 2024.

Trump won in decisive fashion as the majority of Americans sent a big middle finger tied to a wrecking ball to the halls of power in Washington. The failures of the Biden regime unquestionably contributed to Trump’s victory but so too did the relentless pursuit of the president, his family, his allies, his businesses, and his voters.

The January 6 operation backfired in a spectacular way. Instead of representing one of the darkest days in history, January 6 to millions of Americans instead embodies the corrupt, bloodthirsty, and vengeful nature of the existing government and its media bootlickers, which foreshadowed the sort of banana republic-style rule seen in Marxist hellholes not in the United States.

So Monday, January 6, 2025 signals the start of a real insurrection, which is defined as a “revolt against civil authority or an established government” not an unarmed and at points unruly demonstration inside a government building on a Wednesday afternoon.

Should Trump fulfill his boldest campaign pledges, federal agencies in the nation’s capital will never be the same. Permanent changes in now untrusted institutions such as the DOJ, the FBI, the Department of Homeland Security and, sadly, the Department of Defense among others promise to gut the rogue, unelected bureaucracy that really runs the show.

The Trump Insurrection already is paying dividends as employees flee agencies soon to be led by sworn foes of the Deep State. Chris Wray resigned ahead of his scheduled ten-year tenure as FBI boss.

Lots more yet at the link, all of it thoroughly gratifying reading. We can but hope that things shake out as Jules anticipates; t’is a consummation devoutly to be wished, certainly. My own skepticism and cynicism remain more or less intact, albeit not as firm as they were. Just between us chickens, I got one hand behind my back, fingers crossed. We’ll find out soon enough, I reckon.

There’ll always be an England?

Perhaps. Then again, perhaps not.

BrokenBritain 1.

BrokenBritain 2.

Lest any of us get to feeling smug from the cozy “couldn’t happen here” cope, may I remind you that, for the last five-six decades at least, the FUSA has tended to lag no more than five to ten years behind the Mother Country in such matters. As Bracken says, this is but the force-assembly phase of a thousand-year campaign of civilizational conquest and subjugation the decadent West can’t be arsed to concern itself about nowadays, much less prevent, still less reverse.

In the course of re-skimming through some of my favorite speculative-fiction works over lo, the past year or thereabouts—Peter Hamilton in particular, although there are others—I’ve noticed a thing that amuses me greatly. Namely, the unfounded assumption that Once-Great Britain will somehow project the cultural dominance it enjoyed several hundred years ago across the spacefaring worlds of the 30th-31st-32nd Century and beyond. Offhand references to obscure London neighborhoods, linguistic tics, architectural styles, even such prosaic artifacts as steak and kidney pie, bangers & mash, and baked beans for breakfast (?!?) get tossed around liberally, betraying the quaint, vanity-inspired notion that anybody in the far-distant future will even know what those things are…or, y’know, were.

For the matter of it, many of them are barely even remembered in present-day Londonistan, let alone Proxima Centauri in 3426; already, they are no longer traditions to be cherished and preserved, but irrelevant antiquities to be discarded. Will cookies still be known far and wide as “biscuits”? Will a yobbo still be a yobbo, a wog still a wog, a Frenchman still a Frog?

More to the point: will a Moslem-overrun England be capable of engineering and developing a wormhole drive, FTL communications, colony arkships, artificial-gravity generators? Will the Abdul-Abdel-Abdullahs, Saddiqs, and Achmeds in charge of the New British Caliphate be at all interested in undertaking such ambitious, multi-generational projects?

Not bloody likely, mate.

Not to beat up too much on Hamilton and his confreres, mind. Hey, nobody gets everything right every time; foresighted as he was, even Heinlein never saw touch screens coming, and his futuristic computer gizmos printed their output on actual paper, ferchrissakes—a long, laborious process which usually took not just hours but days. Also, Heinlein’s transtellar-flight helmsmen operated their ships’ version of “warp drive” via clunky levers, knobs, and pushbuttons; his navigators (astrogators?) plotted their course not with a holographic projection or main-viewscreen star chart, but boring old No 2 pencil and paper.

No energy weapons; no personal force-fields; no magnetized grav-boots for use in micro-gee environments or EVA. No antimatter propulsion; no mass-to-energy converters; no inertial dampeners; no starships capable of atmospheric flight and/or landing. No malmetal, glassteel, or plascrete. Heinlein and his fellow visionaries came up with lots of cool stuff in their day, sure, but their vision didn’t extend quite that far.

Rule of thumb which ought to be remembered but is too often forgotten: just because even our finest minds can’t see it on the horizon doesn’t mean it ain’t coming all the same.

(Via WRSA)

The “organic” scam

Gee, color me shocked, I did NOT see this coming.

Factory Farming is Better Than Organic Farming
Some narratives are simply ubiquitous in our culture (every culture has its universal narratives). Sometimes these narratives emerge out of shared values, like liberty and freedom. Sometimes they emerge out of foundational beliefs (the US still has a puritanical bent). And sometimes they are the product of decades of marketing. Marketing-based narratives deserve incredible scrutiny because they are crafted to alter the commercial decision-making of people in society, not for the benefit of society or the public, but for the benefit of an industry. For example, I have tried to expose the fallacy of the “natural is always good, and chemicals are always bad” narrative. Nature, actually, is quite indifferent to humanity, and everything is made of chemicals.

Another narrative that is based entirely on propaganda meant to favor one industry and demonize its competition is the notion that organic farming is better for health and better for the environment. Actually, there is no evidence of any nutritional or health advantage from consuming organic produce. Further – and most people I talk to find this claim shocking – organic farming is worse for the environment than conventional or even “factory” farming. Stick with me and I will explain why this is the case.

A recent article in the NYT by Michael Grunwald nicely summarizes what I have been saying for years. First let me explain why I think there is such a disconnect between reality and public perception. This gets back to the narrative idea – people tend to view especially complex situations through simplistic narratives that give them a sense of understanding. We all do this because the world is complicated and we have to break it down. There is nothing inherently wrong with this – we use schematic, categories, and diagrams to simplify complex reality and chunk it into digestible bits. But we have to understand this is what we are doing, and how this may distort our understanding of reality. There are also better and worse ways to do this.

One of my verymost favorite John Ringo novels, The Last Centurion, gets waaaaay into the weeds on the “organic” versus factory-farm tussle, which lovingly detailed digressions I found completely fascinating, as well as highly educational. So no, the above in-depth expose doesn’t surprise me all that much.

I may or may not have brought this up here before, but for quite a few years there my good friend Al and his ol’ lady Lisa (one of my former NYC roomies who moved down to CLT for good after a disastrous romantic entanglement with another old friend of mine, Joe) made an astonishing wad of on-the-side extra coin peddling “free range” eggs to one of the local yuppie-puppie grocery stores. Al and Lisa live way out in the boonies near Concord, on a big farm passed down to him by his grandmother through his mom, both long deceased. Once, when I was up at their place on one of my regular visits, Al walked me out to the “free range” chicken coop to help him collect those upscale eggs.

Al explained the whole “free range egg” dodge to me on the trudge out there from the century-plus-old farmhouse, and it struck me as just funny as all get-out. See, the coop was the familiar wood-and-wire structure roomy enough to comfortably house about ten-fifteen yardbirds and keep them safe from snakes, coons, foxes, and such-like critters, the distinction which made it “free range” being that this one had wheels. There was a beat-down circular track along which, every other day, either Al or Lisa had to roll the ramshackle rig a minimum of three (3) feet so as to maintain its “free range” status. Once in a while they’d let the chickens out to peck, cluck, and scratch around in the tall grass and dirt for an hour or so, after which brief spell of liberation they’d all be bunged back into the hen-itentiary again.

All in all, the whole setup was about as “free range” as every other garden-variety, stationary henhouse any country boy has seen a blue million of—ie, NOT. As with practically every other goobermint-mandated system, “free range eggs” is nothing but a pure-dee grift, designed from jump for one purpose and one purpose only: to fleece the sucker hordes out of as much of their hard-earned as can be managed without donning a bandanna and sticking a hog-leg Colt in their faces outright

Now that you know the score, feel perfectly free to amble right on past your grocery store’s “free range” and/or “organic” section wearing a knowing smile and head directly for the more reasonably priced but every bit as nutritious and/or healthy aisle with a clear conscience. Let the smarmy yuppie urbanites and/or hippie-dippie doofi waste their gelt on fraudulence and PC hype.

You’re in the Big House now

Contra all odds and expectations, Democrook Rod Blagojevich DOES appear capable of learning, when he just has to.

Wanna Know the Downside of Diversity? Look at the Prison System.
Disgraced Illinois governor-turned-felon Rod Blagojevich recently appeared on “The Joe Rogan Experience,” detailing his experience behind bars. It’s a fascinating interview. But this clip in particular is especially worth your time…

Keep in mind, that Blagojevich was a blue-state Democrat. He cruised to victory in his last congressional election with a whopping 87% of the popular vote and won his final gubernatorial race with a 10-plus point edge. Until his downfall, he enjoyed vast support from minorities throughout the state.

But according to him, after his first full day in a maximum-security prison, the correctional officers called him in and told him to join an Aryan prison gang ASAP. He had committed the faux pas of socializing with black inmates out on the yard and was told point-blank that he needed to “ride” with the whites.

Otherwise, he was gonna get killed.

Prison is a deeply segregated environment. It’s expected that the whites stay with the whites, the blacks with the blacks, the Latinos with the Latinos, and never should they mix.

So Blagojevich met with the leaders of the Aryan prison gang and ceded to some of their demands: He wouldn’t sit with the blacks or Latinos anymore and agreed to hang with the whites. He didn’t like it, but he did it.

“And then they told me something which I respected,” Blagojevich told Rogan. “They said, look, you’re not in the real world anymore. This is not a place where you could be a civil rights advocate or a civil rights activist. This is a prison. You don’t have the same rights here that you have out there. …So, if you’re gonna sit with somebody outside your race in the chow hall, that’s a direct affront to us and there are measures that we can take to make sure that you don’t do those sorts of things. And I respected the fact that they said it was to keep order, and it was the culture, and pretty much everybody in the prison system accepts it anyway.”

According to the Aryan gang leader, segregation is what kept people safe.

It’s curious, isn’t it? Outside of prison, we keep hearing that diversity is our greatest strength — and to be fair, sometimes it is. Sometimes, when diverse skill sets converge, the sum total is exponentially greater than all the individual parts.

But sometimes, diversity leads to wars, violence, hatred, and death. Even in a tightly controlled, highly regimented place like a prison.

Diversity is a luxury. It’s the icing on the cake of a stable, successful political system. But it’s not a luxury every country can afford. The consequences of getting it wrong are corruption, crime, social disintegration, and a cataclysmic civil war. Look at Afghanistan and remember the haunting quote from P.J. O’Rourke: “The Afghans themselves say that if you put two Afghans in a room, you get three factions.”

That’s not a recipe for stability.

Ahh, but there you go again, assuming that D卐M☭CRATs actually want stability, when they demonstrably do not. Their preference is for chaos, destruction, impoverishment, and immiseration generally. As their heroic icon Lenin is reputed to have said, the worse the better, don’tchaknow. Calls for an update of the old Jimmie Rodgers classic, I do believe.

Update! Worth noting, too, is that when D卐M☭CRATs prattle of “diversity,” they mean not diversity of, as mentioned above, skills and abilities, or of thought, or background, or any other worthwhile things. No, for them, it’s always and exclusively about skin color, and nothing whatsoever else.

It’s misery, all the way down

Our pal Diogenes Sarcastica sums it up better than I’ve ever seen it done yet.

Being Woke is like watching Schindler’s List, Sophie’s Choice and the ending to Old Yeller twice a week and listening to the song Strange Fruit and a mix of Robert Johnson in your car everyday. No one can function with that kind of concentrated depression floating around in their head.

Suffering is an inevitable part of life. Maybe a necessary part. Suffering inspires artists, and it makes philosophers strive for Truth. But Wokeism is a kind of self-destructive despair. There’s no wholesome hug at the end of that pride rainbow. Wokeism is an empty despair that can’t build anything.

By George, I think she’s got it.

Sympathy for the devil

Gee, wonder why his grandson turned out to be the oxygen-thieving little predator he was. Why, one might almost conclude that Grampa’s attitude might have been the REAL problem whence the whole mishegas derived.

Still Baffling: AR-15 Provides Homeowners with Unfair Advantage Over Intruders?
Sometimes in researching stories to share with TTAG’s audience you come across an old one that still makes you shake your head. Sometimes you come across an old one that makes you shake your head so much you just have to share it. After all these years, what this grandfather says, in spite of his obvious grief, is still a head scratcher. So here’s the story:

Years ago, Massad Ayoob once told me, “In a fight for your life, if it’s a fair fight, your tactics suck.” Like many of us, I’ve heard (and used) that same expression countless times. However, a grandfather in Oklahoma apparently thought it should be a fair fight between home invaders like his grandson and innocent homeowners.

Leroy Schumacher told media outlets that the homeowner’s use of an AR-15 gave him an “unfair advantage” against the gaggle of armed thugs who broke into his home. In the end, three of the thugs assumed room temperature.

Don’t you love it when the family members of violent criminals speak out to the media, trying to paint their misguided scholar kin as the true victims.

Grandpa Schumacher brought a big shovel to continue diggin’.

“What these three boys did was stupid,” said Leroy Schumacher.

Schumacher agrees his grandson and his friends made a bad decision, but not one worthy of deadly consequences.

“They knew they could be punished for it but they did not deserve to die,” said Schumacher.

Schumacher says his grandson didn’t have a chance. The 17-year old, he says, never got into trouble.

“Brass knuckles against an AR-15, come on, who was afraid for their life,” Schumacher told the station at the time.

Don’t give a shit, Gramps. Your worthless spawn, happily for all of his future intended victims, has now assumed room temperature, so who was or was not “afraid for their life” is no longer relevant. “Unfair”? Cry me a river, asswipe; your precious “good boy” is dead purely because he made the fatal mistake of breaking into the wrong house, no other reason. If you can’t do the time, then don’t do the crime, as the old saying goes. May he, his hapless partners, and especially you, burn in Hell for a thousand years—a lengthy stretch which should afford the whole sorry lot of you ample time to figure it out for yourselves.

Bottom line, the stupid wannabe-thug brought brass knuckles to a gunfight. The most satisfying part of this story would have to be its decidedly happy ending (bold mine):

Authorities didn’t agree with Schumacher’s sentiments, however, and Zach Peters was not charged with any crimes because police say he acted in self-defense. Schumacher was not convinced that the shooting was justified, though, and reiterated his belief that the consequences didn’t fit the crime. “There’s got to be a limit to that law, I mean he shot all three of them — there was no need for that,” he said.

No, he should’ve probably just shot one of them and hoped the others ran off instead of taking charging at him and using his own gun to kill him. You can’t make this stuff up!

To think those three teens apparently committed that violent home invasion under the leadership of their criminal mastermind friend Elizabeth Rodriguez, who eventually pled guilty to reduced charges and was sentenced to 45 years for each of her criminal partners killed. All three sentences were to be servied concurrently. As for her associates Jacob Redfearn, Jake Woodruff and Max Cook, they will for eternity pay the price for a very stupid decision that they learned too late has very real, long-term consequences. While this incident took place in 2017, it’s a lesson that is still valid today.

You don’t go in a person’s home unless invited. It’s as simple as that.

Annnnd BINGO! ‘Nuff said.

Grandpa’s grief is of course understandable. Which only makes it all the more crucial that the arrant horseshit said grief has led him to espouse be quashed immediately and vehemently, lest such destructive “thinking” gain a toehold via misplaced sympathy and metastasize throughout society entire, to all our great detriment. Decent folks tolerate nonsense like this at their own dire peril. Denounce it or die, sayeth I.

Final positive aspect? Just this: Grampa’s inept thug of a grandson and his criminal ex-confreres will never break into someone else’s house with intent to victimize a homeowner guilty only of minding his own business again, guar-on-TEED. Curmudgeon nonpareil HL Mencken, a/k/a the Sage of Baltimore, expressed the core principle thusly: “Hanging one scoundrel, it appears, does not deter the next. Well, what of it? The first one is at least disposed of.” A-fuggin’ MEN, podnah.

Off-topic update! Speaking of happy endings, MarsEdit 5.3 is still choogling merrily away, to my tremendous relief. YAAAAY!

ON-topic update! Via Lakeside Joe: Another lesson learned too late, another goblin DRT.

Florida Man Shoots at Two Migrants in Alleged Home Invasion, One Died
A Florida homeowner shot at two migrants who allegedly broke into his home Thursday night. One of the migrants, a Mexican national, died from multiple gunshot wounds.

Manatee County Sheriff Rick Wells told reporters his deputies responded to a call about a shooting connected to an alleged home invasion burglary. The homeowner said his home surveillance camera alerted him to the two masked men who were about to break into his home, Fox 13 reported.

“He [the homeowner] knew something bad was about to happen, and he didn’t stall. He grabbed his firearm, told his wife to get into a safe spot,” the sheriff said. “This is the state of Florida. If you want to break into someone’s home, you should expect to be shot.”

The homeowner reportedly told his wife to find a safe place in the house as he grabbed his firearm to defend his home and family. Florida is a Castle Doctrine state that allows a homeowner to use deadly force to defend himself or others.

Bold mine again, and utterly delightful.

The Great State Of Florida and a handful of other localities notwithstanding, it shows how very far shitlibs have dragged the Overton window towards Leftist tyranny, that the once nearly universal assumption that defending the sanctity of one’s home and the safety of one’s family using deadly force was reasonable and appropriate—in fact, was every self-respecting Man of the House’s solemn duty—should now be questionable, even outrageous, for a great many so-called “Americans.”

Time was, getting shot and/or killed was held to be an occupational hazard for housebreakers, thieves, and other such vermin, far from being unheard of; even said vermin realized that the longer he plied his nefarious trade, his odds of being shot would rise from “Highly Likely” all the way up to “Dead Certain.” The idea that a law-abiding citizen would someday be arrested, tried, and incarcerated for the “crime” of ventilating a marauding armed robber or robbers would have drawn gales of scornful laughter from all and sundry in those days—preposterous, absurd, manifestly Unpossible© here in the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave!

Today, alas, this upending of the very concept of Law And Order itself is taken as read, a given. Even amongst 2A absolutists, the too-real prospect of imprisonment, persecution, and personal ruin based on the most threadbare pretext—when The Enemy bothers to justify Himself at all, mind—is now accepted as the stuff of everyday life in Amerika v2.0. Again with the Eternal Truth: no matter how much you hate Them, you don’t hate Them enough.

All in all, the newly-controversial God-given right to effectively defend one’s home, loved ones, belongings, and bodily self is yet another Founding principle which has been flung down and danced upon by the Leftist wrecking crew. Having grown up in a very different America than the one I see all around me in my dotage—its exact opposite, in fact; the Disney-reboot version of it, written, produced, and directed by Bearded Spock—I can only wonder how the hell it ever came to this. We’ve come a long way, baby—every step of it in precisely the wrong direction.

Oligarchy, kakistocracy, or gerontocracy?

Yet another of those occasions when we must embrace the healing power of “and,” I’m afraid.

US Congresswoman Missing For Six Months Found At Dementia Care Home
Local paper Dallas Express recently launched an investigation into the whereabouts of Republican Congresswoman Kay Granger, who has represented Texas’s 12th Congressional District since 1997. The investigation followed reports that she had been absent from office for months.

Dallas Express found out from a local resident that Granger was not missing but instead residing at an assisted living facility specializing in memory care.

Here’s more from the reporting: 

We then received a tip from a Granger constituent who shared that the Congresswoman has been residing at a local memory care and assisted living home for some time after having been found wandering lost and confused in her former Cultural District/West 7th neighborhood.

The Dallas Express team visited the facility to confirm whether Granger was residing there and to inquire about how she planned to vote on the spending bill. Upon arrival, two employees confirmed that Granger is indeed living at the facility. However, we were not permitted to conduct an interview regarding the current spending debate in the House of Representatives and how or if Ms. Granger planned to vote.

Taylor Manziel who is the Assistant Executive Director for the senior living facility acknowledged to The Dallas Express that “This is her home.”

It remains unclear why Granger’s staff declined to disclose her condition to the public, especially given the lack of representation during a crucial voting period in Congress. 

And, of course, the term limits conversation on X reignited…

As well it might’ve, and should. Yes, yes, I am aware of the shopworn argument against term limits: we don’t need ‘em, they’re already baked into the cake, all’s we have to do is vote the bastards out. Sorry, but as with so many other failed Constitutionally-set “protections,” those built-in “term limits” no longer work as intended. ZH includes a video that hits all too close to home.


Hey, I may not know art, but I know what I like. Another telling aspect: this Congresscritter fell off the map completely for six fucking months…and not a soul noticed, in goobermint or out.

Two terms and OUT, sayeth I—if not voluntary, then by force of law, since they refuse to go voluntarily into that good night.

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