GIVE TIL IT HURTS!

You keep using that word, law-abiding

I do not think that it means what you think it means.


Via Insty.

Disappointment

I dunno, man, it’s always great to see a passel of Lefty screechweasels getting the snot pounded out of ‘em, but I was expecting we’d at least see some teeth, hair, and blood left on that icy sidewalk, if not bone fragments, eyeballs, ears, and/or severed limbs. Do better next time, fellas.


Butt-ugly Leftybitch can’t stand the heat, needs to get the hell out of the kitchen

Welcome to the jungle, twatwaffle.

Zohran Mamdani’s woke, privileged tenant advocate Cea Weaver breaks down crying when asked about hypocritical gentrification comments
Mayor Zohran Mamdani’s newly instated radical-left tenant advocate, Cea Weaver, broke down Wednesday as she dodged questions from reporters about her gentrification hypocrisy.

The 37-year-old, who has faced backlash for blasting homeownership as a “weapon of white supremacy” in the past, teared up when she emerged briefly from her apartment building in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, at about 9 a.m.

Weaver, who was tapped by Mamdani to be his new director of the city Office to Protect Tenants, quickly ran back inside after she was asked about the $1.6 million home her mother owns in Nashville, Tennessee.

I read someplace that not only did this big-talking gutless wonder break down crying upon being asked the first pointed question she’d ever faced in her entire life, she also ran screaming down the street before regaining control of herself and sneaking back into her own crib.

4
1

Send in the clowns

Don’t bother, they’re here.

New York magazine writer stumps Zohran Mamdani, top aides with ‘cost of living’ question
A magazine reporter stumped Mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani and his closest advisers with a question about lowering the cost of living in the Big Apple.

Mamdani and his crew didn’t have an answer when a New York Magazine writer asked for a comparable city as the democratic socialist waxed poetic about his lofty “principle” of bringing down the cost of living in the five boroughs.

“I asked him and some of his advisers if there were cities that had pulled this off that New York could emulate, places that had managed to meaningfully lower the cost of living. None sprang to mind,” the article stated.

“Talk to policy experts, and they find the prospect laughable; the only cities where this has happened are ones where the quality of life dropped so dramatically that no one wanted to live there anymore.”

Point being…? What with the recent mass exodus of the last pitiful handful of sensible, intelligent souls from the ruins, NYC is already sprinting just as hard and fast as it can for the very bottom of that particular fly-blown dungheap. And with commie nitwit Zsa Zsa “A job? ME?!?” Mammyjammy at the wheel, you gotta like their chances. Taking the checkered flag in this particular race is nothing to get excited about, certainly. Even so, purblind City dwellers had better make the most of it and enjoy the Booby Prize while they can—this will be the last victory New Yorkers will have for a long, long time. Après MammyJammy, le déluge.

Clearly, the above-mentioned New Yorker hack didn’t get the memo: you never, but NEVER, ask a Socialist a question about economic policy. They know about as much on that subject as famous retard Tampon Timmeh! Walz does about string theory, therefore are sure to make a dog’s breakfast of the whole enterprise.

Sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, gang, but after all the years, all the tears, and all the predictions of imminent doom which turned out to be a trifle premature, New York is truly over and done with. You only get so many spins of the cylinder before a loaded chamber comes up, so many goes at taunting the tiger before the tiger chews you to pieces and spits you out. About three weeks worth of MammyJammy (mis)rule ought to put the final nail in NYC’s coffin. Resilient as the City has proven itself to be time and again, selecting as Mayor a dull-witted, silver-spoonfed Muzzrat Richie Rich who has never worked a day in his useless life is a self-inflicted wound from which Noo Yawk Fuckin’ City will not recover.

Trump must continue to hammer the point home like a broken record: there will be NO bailout, NO federal relief programs, NO FederalGovCo knight in shining armor riding up on his snow-white charger to pull NYC’s chestnuts out of the fire in the very nick of time. New Yorkers, having voted for the assclown MammyJammy overwhelmingly—a landslide romp which, in effect, bestows one of the strongest mandates ever on an egomaniacal muttonhead who is singularly illl-equipped to wield it judiciously—now have no one but themselves to blame for what they’ll soon be getting. Let them get it then, Mencken-style (ie, good and hard), until they’re so completely downcast that the humiliation of this latest and greatest folly in a long and distinguished line of foolish, impenitent acts of municipal auto-annihilation shall be seared into their collective memory forever.

May New Yorkers rue the day they made such an suicidally-unwise choice. May the impending catastrophe scar them so indelibly they will be driven to reconsider…well, damned near everythiing, actually. May the enduring pain of this experience burn away, like a chill morning fog, their abiding arrogance; their deep-seated superiority complex; their ahistorical ignorance; and their counterfactual assumptions. May the sight of their once-majestic City burning all around them—collapsing into violence, lawlessness, and anarchy thanks to their own infantile prejudices and delusions—inspire them at long last to embrace humility, contrition, and thoughtfulness.

And if that doesn’t work out, just build a 40-foot high, razor-wire-topped, concrete wall around Manhattan, post armed guards along the perimeter, shut off the electricity, rename it Manhattan Island Federal Penitentiary. Then, should PoTUS’s chopper go down inside the Wall, send Snake Plissken in to bring the blaggard back out again.

Echoes

It’s more than just my vanity talking when I say this dude sounds a lot like me.

Apocalypse Now?
I am not prone to doomsday thinking, but neither am I unrealistically optimistic. When President Trump won the election for a second term (against overwhelming odds) in 2024, I understood that the nation had not been “saved” from the radical Left’s destructive policies; we had merely gotten a reprieve. Still, events this year, since Trump 2.0 took office, make me wonder if the polity is too divided, too debased, too indoctrinated, and too detached from “traditional American values” to survive as a democratic republic committed to the rule of law. For the first time in my life, I am concerned about the survival of the United States—not from a foreign threat, but from within.

Blue states and blue cities that had declared themselves “sanctuaries” for the millions of Third World invaders have now become the epicenter of a secession-like resistance to the enforcement of federal immigration law. Democrats’ frantic efforts to demonize, obstruct, and endanger ICE, with the active assistance of rogue judges, amount to an insurrection. Democrats seek to prevent the deportation of, and to grant de facto amnesty to, the millions of illegal aliens who flooded our borders under Biden—foiling our immigration laws. The only possible explanation is that Democrats hope to transform the electorate with Third World detritus, to whom they intend to grant de jureamnesty (and voting rights), thereby ensuring perpetual political control by presiding over the resulting welfare state.

This is not new—indeed, it has been going on for deacdes in California–but I had hoped the American public would rise up and oppose the Democrats’ Kevorkian-like national assisted suicide when it became apparent that importing the Third World was a conscious strategy to ruin America. Just look at the Somali enclaves in Minnesota and the Muslim enclaves in Michigan. They did not happen by accident. The massive influx of illegal aliens with foreign customs, attitudes, and beliefs—unwilling to assimilate and hostile to our culture–erodes the civic glue that binds us together as Americans. Thus, blue city voters elected a socialist pro-Palestinian Muslim as mayor of New York City, and the radical Left’s reaction to the assassination of a National Guard member by an unvetted Afghan refugee in the nation’s capital is to blame President Trump for deploying the National Guard.

Where is the outrage at widespread predation and fraud by foreign invaders?

Isolated in whatever tiny pockets of old-school Real Americanism that still exist, that’s where. Which indicates that the only realistic answer to the question posed in Pulliam’s title is that, much as we may need one right about now, there is in fact no “apocalypse” coming, neither in the short nor the long term.

Apocalypse now? Apocalypse NEVER, more like.

Lots more yet and, grim and depressing though it surely is, you must read all of this one, folks.

(Via Insty)

Up-down Innarnuts

Interesting prediction from Mark Steyn.

The Shrinking Horizon
Apparently, some twenty-five per cent of the Internet was inaccessible for much of the day – including (depending where you were) significant parts of the Steyn empire. Get used to it. A few years hence, “surfing the net” is going to be like switching on your kitchen light in Baghdad outside the Green Zone. This will be because China and other hostile powers will enjoy messing with us just to probe our strengths and weaknesses. But it will also be because the west’s own governments will appreciate the advantages of a more conditional Internet. Let us say that, oh, multiple schoolgirls get stabbed in Southport or Dublin. Or another couple of French schoolteachers are beheaded by their students. Or two German Christmas markets get mown down on the same day. Just in case some intemperate Lucy Connolly types are tempted to weigh in, would it not be in everyone’s interest for social media to be mysteriously afflicted by a Distributed Denial of Service?

Hate to say it, but put this way it sounds not nearly so far-fetched as I could wish.

You’ll want to read the rest, it being Steyn and all. The bit towards the end about the sudden meteoric rise in the number of mosques in Texas (!!) will freeze your gizzard, so chilling is it. Steyn keeps things light by reeling off a punny quip:

So a new mosque opens in the Lone Star State every fortnight? We are told “don’t mess with Texas”, but apparently you can mosque with Texas to your heart’s content.

Heh. Yep, apparently so. Which just makes Texas exactly like all too many other places in the Recumbent West these days.

Shot themselves in the foot again

These mooks are just too, toooo funny.

Defamation Suit Inbound? Behar: ‘Obvious’ Trump Is Epstein’s Pedophile Partner
ABC News may soon be facing down another costly defamation suit from President Trump. On Thursday’s edition of The View, moderator Joy Behar proclaimed that it was “obvious” that Trump was a pedophile in league with convicted pedophile Jeffrey Epstein, and took part in the crimes the latter was convicted of.

Amid a segment where they were asserting that the Trump administration wasn’t going to release the Epstein files as Congress demanded with a law earlier this week, Behar insisted it was “obvious” that Trump was a co-conspirator:

Of course, it was no such thing. In fact…


OOOOOOOOPS...

In the course of a phone converstion earler, my brother and I reached the conclusion that Trump would have to be just about the cleanest man ever to enter the US political arena. The Hateful Left has been running a full-court press nonstop against the guy since 2015— investigating, sifting through trash bins, dumpster-diving, bribing snitches, hiring PIs, you name it—trying relentlessly to find anything at all, fair or foul, that they could use against him. And after all that digging, all that effort, all that work, still they got bupkis, di nada, zipparooni, a big fat goose egg.

And this effort wasn’t just a minor thing fobbed off onto the interns, part-timers, and other interoffice small-fry either. Oh no, this was All Hands On Deck: Party members of every rank, position, and payscale; the Enemedia “eite”; high-level FederalGovCo officials, whether elected or appointed; everybody, but EVERYBODY, had both hands and at least one foot in this filthy, stinking mess.

Except Trump, looks like.

Poor morons, one could almost feel sorry for them.  Almost.

Over the target

Bombs away!

Generals Are Whining That Hegseth Has ‘Lost’ Them, but the Facts Say They’ve Lost the Plot
Secretary of War Pete Hegseth is the subject of another scurrilous article claiming, without proof or evidence, that he has lost the trust and confidence of the flag and general officer corps. A story in the Washington Times uses mostly anonymous sources to make the claim that Hegseth, “has lost the trust and respect of some top military commanders, with his public “grandstanding” widely seen as unprofessional and the personnel moves made by the former cable TV host leading to an unprecedented and dangerous exodus of talent from the Pentagon, said current senior military officers and current and former Defense Department officials.” The whole article tells a different story.

The core of the critique seems to be that Hegseth is incapable of thinking above the level of an infantry major, and that keeps him from focusing on real stuff like, well, we don’t know.

Follows, one long, loud, whine from these precious Deep State poseurs. To be perfectly honest, there might possibly be something in this world I give less of a shit about than what the Perfumed Princes of the Puzzle Palace think about anything at all, but if there is I’m sure I don’t know what it might be. Streiff has a little something he’d like to say as regards Mordor On The Potomac’s fearsome Chairborne (Rump) Rangers senior leadership caste, every word of which cuts like a Sykes-Fairbairn fighting knife.

The criticism boils down to basically a lot of people don’t like Hegseth’s style. The only damage they can come up with is an exodus of other FOGOs and senior civilians who have been told to leave. In their mind, this defenestration of deadwood and resistance is a loss of talent. It isn’t because those slots will be filled by people who want to do the job right. I thought the resistance to the concept of a “color- and gender-blind meritocracy” was particularly instructive and shows just how deep Marxist rot has invaded the military.

I’d also offer that the criticisms of his focus on appearance and fitness belie the fact that far too many of our senior officers don’t really care about discipline, esprit, or technical competence. If the standard for lacing boots is left-over-right, I can walk into any unit and tell immediately how well the chain of command works. If standards for height, weight, and physical fitness and beards are not enforced, you can bet your bottom dollar that maintenance, logistics, personnel, and a whole bunch of other systems are broken. You can also bet that a military without attention to detail will not focus on winning wars, but on getting the most medals. In the words of a man who knew about war, General George S. Patton, Jr.: “There is only one sort of discipline—perfect discipline. Men cannot have good battle discipline and poor administrative discipline.” He also said, “You cannot be disciplined in great things and undisciplined in small things.”

So self-evidently correct you can’t help but be embarrassed on behalf of GEN Curtis J Rumpswab, BRIG GEN Jennifer D Rottencrotch, and MAJ GEN Kwan’zaalishious’ “Lightnin” McCorkle VII for needing to have it read back to them one more time.

Let the Pentagon’s flabby, overpromoted, medal-chasing flag officer corps get back to us when they’ve actually won something more impressive than a free medium coffee from Dunkin Donuts in recognition of their many years of customer loyalty. As far as these abject failures feeling all butthurt over Sec Hegseth serving notice that their only easy day was yesterday, hopefully their “personal honor” has been traduced badly enough to leave them no choice but to resign their commissions and vacate their positions. Without these jackasses, who knows, we might actually be able to win a war for a change.

White House Hijinx, Capitol Capers, Executive Escapades, Washington Waggeries, Federal Follies

The Sen John Kennedy review.

Biden’s cognitive decline emboldened Putin to invade Ukraine, Sen. John Kennedy tells ‘Pod Force One’
Former President Joe Biden’s cognitive decline was so pronounced that it imperiled US foreign policy by providing an “invitation” to dictators like Russia’s Vladimir Putin, Sen. John Kennedy told “Pod Force One.”

“I remember when Putin was lined up on the Ukrainian border, thinking of going in, weighing his option(s), watching President Biden have a short press conference and say, ‘Well, if it’s a small incursion, it might be OK,’” Kennedy (R-La.) told The Post’s Miranda Devine on the latest episode, out Wednesday.

“I’m thinking, Holy Moses, that’s an invitation,” added the Louisiana Republican, reflecting on the January 2022 press conference, during which Biden went off the rails while responding to criticisms of his agenda raised by the White House press corps.

Was Biden ever even ON the rails, really?

“It depends on what [Russia] does,” Biden said at the time when asked about Putin’s plans. “It’s one thing if it’s a minor incursion and we end up having to fight about what to do and not do.”
Kennedy recalled thinking at the time that the president’s rhetoric “was dangerous.”

“I think he just started rambling,” the senator said, before rattling off other foreign policy flubs. “Afghanistan. [Biden] removed the sanctions on the Nord Stream 2 pipeline. He removed the sanctions on Iran from selling their oil. Now, President Xi in China is working with Putin and Russia and the Ayatollah in Iran, they see all this.”

“Rambling,” you say? Nuh-uh, Jack, not the Joe Biden I know.

“They’re working together, and they saw the president, who was not clearly in grasp — didn’t have a clean grasp on all of his faculties. They saw the weakness, and they made their move. And that’s how Ukraine started,” he added.

Kennedy also claimed that he could see the Democrat’s “neurodegenerative disease … got worse” over time.

“I figured his staff was getting maybe four hours, five hours of work out in the day. He couldn’t help it,” The Republican claimed. “His staff cleverly hid it until they couldn’t anymore. He had the debate in front of God and the country and the American people — and the American people saw it, and they said, ‘Look, this man is just, he’s like my grandpa, you know, who I just took the car keys from.’”

Astute fella, that Sen Kennedy. Got a real flair for language, too.

You don’t mess with JD, nor his ol’ lady neither

Not if you know what’s good for you, you don’t.

In case you missed it, Joe Biden’s former White House press secretary, Jen Psaki, made some vile comments about Vance’s marriage earlier this week, implying that JD is “scary” and Usha is being held hostage somehow.

I think the little Manchurian candidate, JD Vance, wants to be president more than anything else. I always wonder what’s going on in the mind of his wife. Like, are you okay? Blink four times. Come over here. We’ll save you. He’s willing to do anything to get there… he’s scarier in certain ways.

I’ve debated writing about this since it happened, but it’s so irritating that I couldn’t bring myself to give it the time of day. First of all, Psaki spent 16 months telling us that Biden was a good president, so why would anyone take anything she says seriously? Second, I’ve learned a lot about the second lady since her husband took office, and she is an incredible woman — a wonderful role model for young women and girls. By all accounts, she adores her husband, and it’s evident in every appearance they make or interview she gives. But even so, she’s an independent woman who has her own interests, thoughts, goals, and affairs. And to hear him tell it, she’s called a lot of the shots in JD’s career.

Anyway, a reporter asked the vice president, who is in Israel today, about Psaki’s statement. Vance couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all, but he also reiterated how lucky he is to have her by his side and let the world know that she can speak for herself on the matter if she wants.

I think it’s disgraceful, but, of course, the second lady can speak for herself. I’m very luck to have a wonderful wife. I know, at least I hope, that my wife feels the same about me, but we’re very lucky to have this journey. Or I should say, I’m very lucky to go on this journey with a very loving wife. We’re going to keep on serving the country together, and I’m honored to have Usha by my side…

I have little else to say about this. Vance’s laugh says it all. It’s ridiculous, and I suspect these attacks will ramp up as Democrats realize they don’t have an obvious 2028 candidate, while we have at least two, with Vance as the obvious frontrunner. Expect this kind of talk to ramp up: Vance is weird, he’s mean, he’s whatever… the reality is he’s a patriotic American, a man who’s serviced his country in the military and in public office, a husband, a father, a Godly man, a masculine man who protects his family but doesn’t overstep his role, and someone with one heck of a sense of humor. He’s overcome so many odds to get here, too. Liberal harpies are no match for the VP.

Of COURSE they’ll “ramp up” the noxious, repulsive bullshit. What else CAN they do? D卐M☭CRAT scumbuckets realize they simply can’t lay a glove on Vance no matter what or how hard they try; the guy just doesn’t rattle, he doesn’t scare, and he never, ever runs away from a fight.

One other thing The Best Darn Veep America Ever Had has got going for him: it’s entertaining as all git-out to watch him work. He floats like a butterfly and stings like a bee in dealing with the Leftard baglappers, and no mistake. JD doesn’t care what they think any more than the rest of us do, and it couldn’t be more obvious…or more terrific, if you ask me.

Second helping

Moar Mark Steyn, men!

Because they made the mistake of sabotaging his escalator and then his prompter, the President of the United States opened up a supersized can of geopolitical whup-ass on the UN General Assembly this week, pithily summarised by many headline-writers thus:

Trump’s middle finger to the UN: ‘Your countries are going to hell’

In fairness, this insight was mainly directed at America’s “allies” in Europe. The particular hell they are going to will not be news to those who’ve swung by this shingle over the last twenty-three years, but I thought it might be worth doing a brisk tour d’horizon of where we’re at:

Follows, a tour de farce of some of the more farcical nation-states currently blighting this beleaguered blue marble, such as…oh, go on, take a wild guess…

*AFRICA

In 1900 the population of Africa was 140 million. That’s why it was possible for one continent to be entirely owned by another – Europe – and why a mere five dozen British civil servants could until 1956 govern the whole of the Sudan, reasonably well and better than any time since.

Today the population of African is one-and-a-half billion. In fact, the continent now adds the equivalent of its total 1900 population – 140 million – every four years. In 2020 Africa had 1.38 billion people; in 2025 1.55 billion people. By 2050 the UN projects another billion Africans. By 2070 – or Thatcher/Reagan to now – the world will have five billion (and falling) Asians, over three billion (and rising) Africans, and Europe and the Americas will be a bit of loose pocket change rattling around between those very round numbers.

It is possible, of course, that those numbers will not come to pass. A significant percentage of those three billion might decide to head to almost any Libyan port delivered by Obama, Cameron and Hollande into the hands of the jihad boys and procure passage on a northbound ship to be ushered by a German or Scandinavian “refugee” “charity” into an Italian port.

As with all things, we did this to ourselves: Western medicine eliminated childhood mortality in the most dysfunctional and corrupt countries on earth, thereby incentivisng millions (billions?) to head for a four-star country-house hotel in England. But, as it is, almost all population growth across the planet right now is coming from sub-Saharan Africa and the wackier Islamic redoubts. Would you stay in Chad when your cellphone is full of EU politicians insisting that “Diversity is our strength”?

To put it at its mildest, when do the citizens of countries “going to hell” at least rouse themselves to boo the cobwebbed clichés?

What more might one say about the Dark Continent, really? Leaving that insuperable mess aside, we’ll just avert our eyes as we shuffle on off to another Earthly garden spot, namely:

*THE MIDDLE EAST

I don’t write much about “Palestine” mainly because I haven’t had a new thought on the subject in a quarter-century. But forget, for a moment, the Jews: I understand many people find Jews all a bit Jewy and agree with that Brit Wanker Copper that it’s unacceptably provocative to have Jews strolling the streets looking “openly Jewish”. So set aside your antipathy to the Chosen; it is not in your interest to have another Islamic krappistan to add to the dozens out there.

There are fifty-seven members of the Organisation of Islamic Co-Operation; and, unlike the Commonwealth, at the UN they all vote as a bloc. So far Europe’s only member is Albania, but, given that over ten per cent of Albanian males are now resident in England it can only be a matter of time before the UK applies for “associate membership”. As it is, J D Vance has already suggested that His Majesty’s Dominions and the Continental powers are recognising “Palestine” only for domestic demographic reasons. Why would that surprise anyone? It’s in America Alone, for cryin’ out loud – although admittedly I wrote that when JD was in junior high.

Was “President” Mahmoud Abbas, now in the twenty-first year of his five-year presidential term, grateful for “recognition” by every Ukrainian rent-boy’s favourite bottom? No. He immediately demanded Sir Keir pay him two trillion dollars in reparations for Britain’s administration of its UN mandate for Palestine. The UK is broke but I suppose it could find the money if it, say, downgraded its Albanian sex-traffickers to three-star hotels.

But all “President” Abbas would do is sluice it to his sons, who, after a lifetime’s devotion to “Palestinian” public service are now among the richest men on the planet, thanks to USAid and its Euro-equivalents.

Abbas and the sewer he presides over are the problem not the solution. If conjuring into being such a “state” – with embassies in London, Paris and beyond – is the best we can do at this stage in the Great Game, our civilisation deserves to die.

Can’t quite make out how, for all his perception and analytical skills, Mark nonetheless managed to let the Tribe primarily responsible for the woes of the ME evade his notice here; probably another ((((****JooJooJJooJOOOOO!!!****)))) plot, I suppose.

Next, Steyn takes a quick, hard swipe at China before getting around to the main event.

*THE UNITED STATES

America’s 1950 moment is drawing to a close. If it ends with every US “ally” going off the cliff and the BRICS crowd collapsing the dollar, its three-quarter-century dominance is unlikely to be regarded by posterity as a grand success. Both scenarios are quite likely: for everyone accept the US and its client states, the inauguration of the post-dollar world is simply a matter of agreeing the timing. As for going off the cliff, whether one can remain a First World society of 400 or 500 million is an interesting question, but you’re severely worsening the odds with all the diversity wankerama.

To be sure, Donald Trump has spent the last nine months demonstrating an energy in the executive unimaginable in France or Germany, Canada or Australia. However, he is stymied at every turn by the industrial-scale hollowing out of every institution from your local kindergarten to the Pentagon. A third-rate politicised judiciary – with an extraordinary number of foreign-born judges whose English comprehension does not apparently extend to the separation of powers – is confident it can stall the President’s drive and determination until the next election.

Furthermore, the United States is the fons et origo of every madness afflicting the core west, starting with mass trannification. Millions of apparently sane people, including your children’s teachers and your hospital management (and, in Minnesota, your governor), purport to believe that this is as much of a woman as the late Claudia Cardinale.

Lots more yet to come, folks. This being Mark Steyn, you won’t want to miss a single word of it, I’m sure.

Update! In the excerpt above, Steyn casually flays those who “purport to believe that this is etc etc,” with a link appended to “this” which I didn’t transcribe, as per usual. I just went and checked out said link, and great Googly Moogly! I figgered I knew what I’d find there, but as it turns out it was even worse than I dared imagine.

OOF! Also, ICK! And for good measure, YIKES!!!

Imagine, if you will, being a pretty teenage girl intent on zipping into the Ladies’’ for a quick, much-needed wee before dashing off to Principles Of Marxism class, only to descry that fucking gargoyle leering at you from the doorway of one of the stalls, just before he slams you bodily to the floor, tears off all your clothes, and rapes you.

Imagine, if you will, this creep’s rancid BO; the dank, greasy feel of that filthy t-shirt; his revolting cigarette-cheap-beer-and-Cool-Ranch-Doritos breath; the nose hair-singing piss/shit/jizz/scrote-sweat reek wafting up from his grayish-yellow tighty-whiteys as he slithers out of his raggedy Chinese Levis knockoffs; his rough, encrusted tongue crawling lIzard-like over your neck, face, and tightly-clamped lips.

Meanwhile, you thrash your head furiously from side to side, eyelids squeezed shut as if not seeing might offer some protection from feeling.. Your mind wails over and over that NO, NO, NO, THIS ISN’T REALLY HAPPENING TO ME, THIS CANT BE HAPPENING!!! Just when you notice one of the brute’s hands is insinuating itself into your clean, thick, curly hair, the other one is pinching your now-exposed left nipple roughly, painfully.

I say again: YIKES!!!

Always remember, it’s sickos like the scrofulous weirdo depicted above that shitlibs will defend to their dying breath as perfectly normal, in fact admirable and praiseworthy. Moreover, such creatures should be given full and unfettered access to your young sons and daughters to abuse, terrorize, and harm them in whatever fashion they deem fit.

If you haven’t figured it out already, there’s no time like the present: the REAL problem here isn’t so much the predatory perverts themselves but the vile and soulless shitlibs backing them. Do away with the latter and the former will soon subside back into the shadows of obscurity, oblivion, and disapprobation which had been their lot until fairly recently.

Starving these freaks of the instant celebrity, the exaltation, the manufactured glamor, and the societal and cultural breathing room provided them by the Conniving Left will do the trick right enough. After all, such things are to officially-designated Victim Class crumbums as nutrient-rich soil, water, and proper sunshine are to green plants.

Whuuuu….???

Okay, this one’s just too dang weird.

After Days of Claiming Trump was Dead, Leftists Get a Nasty Shock
President Donald Trump walked out of the White House on Saturday morning along with his granddaughter Kai and got into a vehicle to head for Sterling, Virginia, for a few rounds of golf. This would have been an utterly insignificant bit of information were it not for the fact that Trump hadn’t been seen in public since his cabinet meeting on Tuesday. While he was out of sight, an increasing number of leftists began crowing gleefully that the president must be dead. Their disappointment on Saturday morning must have been overpowering, as the hatred they showed for the president and his supporters was truly shocking in its intensity. The party of compassion? Hardly. There are no more hateful people than leftists.

Overexcited leftists began claiming that Trump was mortally ill several days ago, when a photo emerged of Trump with a large bruise on his right hand, similar to one that was spotted on Queen Elizabeth’s hand just days before she died. White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt explained Monday that the bruise was the result of Trump shaking hands with multiple people every day, combined with the effects of the aspirin he regularly takes.  

This wasn’t enough, however, for the far, far-left Huffington Post, which dismissed what Leavitt said as a “grandiose explanation” and opined, without evidence, that “the discoloration on the back of his left hand would seemingly be more difficult to explain away by handshake.” The hand-bruise controversy, however, was nothing compared to the left’s hysterical joy at not seeing Trump around for a few days. 

The New York Post reported Saturday that “online rumors of President Trump’s demise were greatly exaggerated — much to the dismay of creepy leftist critics.” The rumors started swirling “on Friday, when the White House released a blank schedule with no public events for the president during Labor Day weekend.” Old Joe Biden took almost four years off while he was pretending to be president and the media kept insisting that he was sharp as a tack as long as there weren’t any cameras around to capture the moment, but Trump takes a few days off, or at least out of sight, and the left goes nuts. (Yes, indeed, they were already nuts.)

I’m going to have to amend my earlier assessment—this ain’t just weird, it’s downright bizarre.

NUTS!

Crazy lady illustrates just how very far we’ve fallen—as a nation; as Americans; as individuals; as civilized, rational, well-meaning human adults.

i’m telling ya, gang, you ain’t gonna believe this one.


This rage junkie’s unprovoked hissy fit deserves some kind of token of recognition—say, a trophy; a statuette along the lines of the Oscar, the Tony, or the Grammy; a colorful silk ribbon sizeable enough that it can be tied in back of the neck and draped over the collarbones and down to about mid-sternum, the way a proper necklace is usually worn; a gold medal to hang from said ribbon/necklace, a one-two knockout punch which results in a stylish accessory that, for all intents and purposes, might have been made to be shown off at private parties, film/art-show openings, next year’s Kentucky Derby, or some other such event; a generous cash prize; a professionally printed, suitable-for-framing certificate of merit presented personally by Hizzoner the Mayor’s very own hand; an honorary diploma from the nearest cow-college.

Then there’s the charity-fundraising dinner in a ritzy restaurant so jam-packed with minor to middling local celebutards that whenever at least two of said celebs stands close together and smiles for the cameras, the high-wattage light bouncing off the razzle-dazzle dentition on display produces a reflection so intensely retina-singing that any diner, restaurant employee, sidewalk-dwelling stewbum, or luckless looky-loo gawking through the establishment’s big front window who gets hit smack dab in the middle of his/her/its eyeball by the tooth polish-enhanced reflection will be blinded completely until mid-afternoon of the next day, a painful injury to delicate, highly sensitive tissue which hurts in a way reminiscent of the also-blinding eyeball burns incurred by looking directly at a welding torch’s brilliant light without welding goggles*.

There’s sure to be lots more bright ideas floating around out there regarding how best to recognize Miz Cray-Cray McNutcake’s and any subsequent amusing mental/emotional self-detonations, but the above ones should suffice to get the intellectual spark plugs firing, the creative juices flowing, and the internal kick-ball rolling in the right direction, I think.

One final thought: can you even begin to imagine what life must be like for this woman’s husband/boyfriend.significant other (if any)? Y’know, the poor soul who has to go to bed every night and wake up every morning beside this psychopath? Because I gotta say, I can’t. In fact, I really don’t want to. My life sucks bad enough as it is; I don’t like the idea of using my imagination to put my astral projection (a term I picked up from PG Wodehouse’s Laughing Gas) in that pyrsynzzn’s shoes for even one second, which pointless experience would only make things worse for myself than they already were. I ain’t nearly masochist enough to make myself suffer so gratuitously, and with any luck I never will be.

* Although I’ve had countless opportunities to score myself some welding-torch eyeball blisters, I never did; whenever I heard the snap, crackle, and pop seam-building soundtrack warning all shop-rats that Goose had one of our three (3) torches fired up and was starting another of his incredibly flawless welds, I made damned good and sure to keep my back turned to him. From what friends of mine who would know say, the blindness hits shortly after the damage has been done, while the godawful pain usually holds off until sometime next day. The only effective treatment for those blisters I know of is to cut up a raw potato into thin rounds and place a slice on the closed lids of the affected ocular orb, then let it/them sit there for hours and hours. Eventually, the pain goes away, the vision comes back, and the lesson has been learned, to be remembered forever.

It’s all but certain not to go that way, though, as you probably figured out by now. Thanks to inborn human blockheadedness, Nature’s eternal cycle begins anew: the lesson will be forgotten; the attention will stray; the primordial flesh-memory of what it felt like will fade. And before you know it, there you are: somebody is about to get hurt again.

Shop Life 101, that’s all, Shop Life 101.

By their friends shall ye know them

Wait, say WHAT again now…?

Makeup boss Huda Kattan claims Israel was responsible for both world wars, 9/11 and October 7
She has since claimed to be the victim of a ‘smear’ campaign, saying: ‘In order to silence you speaking out, to silence me, they do what they always do, twist your words, label you an antisemite’

Iraqi-American makeup boss Huda Kattan has claimed that there is evidence that Israel was responsible for both world wars.

Kattan, founder of makeup brand Huda Beauty, has nearly two million followers on TikTok. In a video posted to her account last week, she also accused Israel of deliberately allowing the October 7 massacre to happen.

In the video, which she has since deleted, she spoke of “conspiracy theories” about the Jewish state and said that there is “a lot of evidence behind them”.

Such theories, she claimed, included those that Israel was “responsible for 9/11”, that it “allowed October 7 to happen” that it is is “hiding… paedophiles”. And she claimed that evidence exists that Israel was behind both world wars.

Uhhhn HUH. This SooperdoubledooperGENIUS™ seems to be completely unaware that, during both WW1 AND WW2, Israel didn’t actually even exist. But hey, just keep talking, by all means. You do you, girlfriend.

Kattan has subsequently posted another video defending her comments, saying: “A lot of people were taking it out of context and did not want that conversation happening.

“I never said anything about Jews, or even the Israeli people, so I chose to remove the video.

“It is no secret that I have been speaking out about Palestine for quite some time, and that happened as a result of me learning about the Palestinian cause.”

Sounds to me like you got a good deal left to learn yet about THAT particular “cause,” Sugartits.

(Via Ed Driscoll)

Bodacious!

The Sidney Sweeney saga continues, and it’s BEAUTIFUL, man!

for anyone gen X or older and many who are younger, the sydney sweeney jeans ad is an obvious icon, a cultivated callback to a genre that once was, the latest modern take on a corbusier chaise lounge or an homage to 1950’s sport shirts. it looks like 1,000 other things you saw your whole life, a piece of classic americana once as common as summer sunshine and about as objectionable.

on its overt level, this branding makes deep sense as jeans styles are changing, moving from the stretch-fit skinny jeans paradigm of the last 15 years back to a looser and baggy 80’s and 90’s low-rise style. it’s all of a piece: a throwback ad style to foreground a throwback clothing style. it caught the zeitgeist. it’s clever, stylish, sexy, and strong. she’s an attractive woman doing cool stuff in a cool stuff in a cool way. sweeny looks like a bad ass, the car is epic, and this triggers appeal to women and men alike. you want to go to there.

so why has the internet and the aggrievement industrial complex of media babble-heads exploded into such a lockstep tizzy over an ad that would have been utterly unremarkable during most of living memory?

El Gato goes on to expound on more than one of said reasons, all of which are perfectly plausible. But for my money, it really all boils down to just one crucial element: The Wokester Left—never among the most stable of us to begin with, either psychologically or emotionally—has now gone officially, certifiably, irretrievably, pathologically bugfuck NUTS. The slavering moonbats have lost contact with rationality and/or reality altogether and aren’t gonna be coming back anytime soon, assuming they ever come back at all.

Put another way, the loony Left’s visceral hatred for Mighty Whitey, physical comeliness, mainstream opinion, and a refusal to evince proper contrition—ie, to hang one’s head apologetically, as is only meet and just, for the abominable H888Crime!™ of being young, White, good-looking, independent-minded, and wildly popular with Normal Americans—has finally driven the poor dears clean around the bend and into the ditch.

Add to these egregious offenses the fact that Our Sydney remains defiant and unflappable under a heavy (and intensifying) barrage of Wokester vitriol, obloquy, and unhinged threats. Most maddening of all: she’s female but is in no wise the Wokester-approved flavor of Toxic Feminazi, nor does she show the slightest inclination to sign on. Really, it couldn’t be more obvious as to why the whackadoos loathe her so frenetically, yet can’t quite seem to quit her even so.

Remember back when Rush used to boast about “living in Liberal heads rent free?” He might’ve written the book on the idea, but Sweeney has taken it farther than even Rush himself ever imagined going. You just gotta love the girl for that, if for nothing else. Back over to El Gato for the happy ending, unexpected as it was until it landed in our laps.

the vestigial remnants of the cancel culture mob were all out in force demanding boycotts and censorship and playing that favorite role of theater kids everywhere: the victim.

but a funny thing happened on the way to the struggle session:

nobody cared.

academia roused itself to towering rage.

yawn.

newspapers manufactured outrage at printing press scale.

yawn. snork.

the internet exploded in outpourings of tearful anxiety projection and attempted villification.

and the jeans sold out in record time.

you cannot just tell people, “this is normal,” “obesity is healthy,” or “if a man (or a woman) will not date a woman because she has a penis, that’s transphobic” (people really claim this by the way and disagreeing with it has been treated as hate speech) and expect to be believed or to become a cultural touchstone.

and people are exhausted by it, desperate to return to a different time and a set of standards more in line with their lived (and biological) experience and preferences.

it’s about power.

they experience the empowerment of a woman like sydney as an assault on them because they see power as a zero sum game.

but so intense is this will to power that it cannot be admitted, least of all to themselves.

they are absolutely sincere to the point of non-interrogatable delusion on this topic.

it’s grinding them to dust because none of this works anymore.

the magic words have lost their power. yell “racist! sexist! structural oppressor!” until you sprain your tonsils.

outside of your ever-shrinking always on rage tribe, no one cares.

As I always say, couldn’t happen to a nicer bunch of assholes. Didn’t happen a moment too soon, either. A few paragraphs along, El Gato throws us a helpful compare/contrast bone:

CORRECTION: I wuz wrong just then; sorry, everyone. There’s no comparison to be made here, the two specimens depicted above are about as dissimilar as dissimilar gets. They are unrelated; exact opposites; light years apart; as different as chalk and cheese. They clash worse’n a brown shirt with a blue suit. Please allow me to atone for my error with another shot of Ms Sweeney’s astounding fun bags.

I repeat: YOWZA!!!! A bit blurry and out of focus, sure, but unless my eyes deceive me I do believe an enticing half-moon of undraped right nipple can be descried in the above screencap.

Careful fellas; human saliva can wreck your keyboard should excessive quantities of it be drooled thereon.

Poised, indomitable, intelligent, fiercely confident—all these qualities and more come together to make Sidney Sweeney the Platonic ideal of what legendary ‘rassler Lex Luger meant when he decided to call himself The Total Package. Throw in that 1) she’s also a well-trained, skilled shooter, and 2) she’s an avid vintage-car enthusiast, restorer, and diehard Ford gal who enjoys nothing more than getting her hands greasy wrenching on her own prized 65 Mustang, first and foremost among other FoMoCo models, namely her grandpappy’s old F100 pick-em-up in which she learned to drive as a youngster (and that she still owns) and her 69 Bronco, for openers. She even co-designed a Mustang GT limited edition model for the Blue Oval boys to boot. Background:

Sydney Sweeney’s love for cars is deeply rooted in her family background and personal experiences. Growing up in a small town near Spokane, Washington, surrounded by mechanics, she developed a genuine passion for classic vehicles early on. This passion was not just a phase, it is a family legacy. While the world knows her for powerful performances on screen, off-screen, she is just as comfortable under the hood, restoring classic cars and proudly sharing her projects. One vehicle in particular has been generating buzz, a certain Mustang. But is it the iconic GT350?

Sydney Sweeney does not own a Mustang GT350. While she is prominently featured driving a GT350 in the recent American Eagle ad campaign, her actual Mustang ownership is different. Sweeney’s love for cars and vintage models does come from her bloodline. In a small town near Spokane, Washington, she first learned to drive on her grandfather’s F-100 farm truck, a vehicle she still owns today. During the pandemic, she purchased an original 1969 Bronco that required extensive restoration.

Sydney Sweeney owns a classic 1965 Ford Mustang, which she has lovingly nicknamed Britney. This vintage Mustang is bright blue and has been the subject of her restoration projects shared on social media. Sweeney’s hands-on work and deep personal connection to her 1965 Mustang have inspired some of her automotive collaborations, including the custom 2024 Mustang GT she co-designed with Ford, but the only Mustang she personally owns and cherishes is her 1965 model.

To celebrate the Mustang’s 60th anniversary, Ford is building two custom Mustangs inspired by Sydney Sweeney’s Brittany Blue 1965 model—one for Sweeney, one for a contest winner. These cars feature a Robin’s Egg Blue exterior with a crushed glass clear coat, 20-inch chrome rims, Sweeney’s signature on the engine, and the Ford x Sydney Sweeney heart bolt emblem throughout the design.

Aiiight, I just can’t restrain myself: boyohboyohboyohboy, WHAT A WOMAN!! “Total Package”? Pish-tosh; doesn’t do her justice, not even close. Although I can’t honestly say I ever had such thoughts before right this very minute, saucy, sexy, succulent Sidney makes me wish I was about thirty years younger; way better looking; fit and healthy; independently wealthy; and lived half a block down from her crib. If I woke up to find all this had somehow come to pass, I’d run the shoes off my feet and my feet down to bloody nubs chasing after her fine self. I ain’t too proud to admit it, neither.

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