Category: WINNING!

Losing more slowly with the Stupid Party

Bee speech

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From the daily missive sent by the Babylon Bee email list.

Two years ago, The Babylon Bee was suspended from Twitter for “misgendering” Admiral Rachel Levine.

We were given the following choice from the content moderators at Twitter: Remove the tweet and check a box admitting we participated in hate speech, or lose our platform. 

Here is the internal conversation we had where we decided how we would respond:

We decided to stand for the truth, because the truth is not hate speech.

We had no idea that this decision would play a role in one of the biggest wins for free speech in years.

It wasn’t long after we refused to censor ourselves that Elon Musk bought Twitter, changed his bio to “Chief Twit,” and issued an urgent directive: “Bring back the Babylon Bee.” He then changed the platform’s name to X and has committed to making it the freest place for truth-tellers on the internet. 

Our commitment to you, our readers, is this: we will never back down from this fight. The truth is worth it, and always will be.

Gotta love those guys. Elon Musk too; his takeover/liberation of the insidious Twitter propaganda-mill has been beneficial in multifarious ways nobody expected or foresaw at the time. Yeah, yeah, Musk is no conservative; don’t care, not one bit I don’t. All one has to do is take a look at the ongoing anguished wailing of pretty much every last man Jack of the Goosesteppin’ Left for confirmation of the incredible impact losing a single social-media platform had.

Keep on stingin’, Bee!

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“Scottish endarkenment”

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Steyn on the latest round of the ongoing JK Rowling “transgender” dust-up.

Yesterday was another dark day for the west’s fast-fading freedom of speech. Scotland’s new “Hate Crime” law came into effect, formalising (among other things) my perennial gag that in the UK (or at least this miserable corner of it) everything is policed except crime: The wanker coppers will now be spending ever more of their worthless days sitting around monitoring your Twitter account. Oh, don’t worry, Scotland’s “First Minister” and the plods themselves have been at pains to assure you that they’re going to keep a sense of proportion about their new thought-crime powers. That’s why their “training exercise” for the new law was a lady Tweeter called “Jo” who wants to send all transpersons to the gas chambers.

The Jo in question took it in her stride:

‘Arrest me!’: JK Rowling challenges Scotland’s new hate crime laws

There followed on her Twitter feed a witheringly sarcastic roll call of the various bepenised women (see picture at top right) whose pathologies the decadent end-stage Scottish state has indulged.

Hers was the only sane Scots reaction I read yesterday, certainly from any public figure. Everyone else seems to have figured that cis-discretion is the better part of valour.

Her splendid isolation will surely have been noticed by that totalitarian constabulary. Maybe they will arrest her. As I said in After America some years ago, what matters are the habits of liberty. Once a people lose those, there are no easy ways back.

Written before Scots officialdom’s piteous no mas, obviously, but the essential point regarding “the habits of liberty” remains valid. Steyn follows the above rip with more which may not at first blush seem related at all, but in the long run most certainly is.

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Rowling 1, PC Scotland 0

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Chalk up a win for Team Reality.

Technically, Rowling should have been hauled off in chains. Instead, Scotland backed down:


If JK Rowling’s posts calling out biological men—and “abusing” and “insulting” them— aren’t actionable, then nothing can be actionable in that regard. Nor does it help the transgender cause that the only person with more demands for arrest under the law than JK Rowling is Humza Yousaf, Scotland’s First Minister (although his are anti-white, race-based complaints).

It’s great to see Rowling win this battle, but it’s only one battle in a nation that has no First Amendment enshrining free speech. And here’s the kicker: If you think it can’t happen here, it can. After all, the entire Democrat establishment is prosecuting Trump for complaining about an election outcome and urging people to go to Congress to make their voices “peacefully” heard, two essential elements of core free speech because they’re both political.

Trump’s not the only one being persecuted. Jurisdictions all over America pass laws and regulations exposing conservatives to prosecution or civil actions for wrong think and wrong speech. And do I even need to get started on Big Tech’s censorious activities, even though they have effectively become the public square in America?

Looking at America’s creeping censorship, do you see any American billionaires other than Trump having Rowling’s courage when it comes to Truth?

To ask the question is to answer it, I’m afraid. Widberg closes with another Tweet, wherein Matt Walsh tells it like it is in one short sentence: “Scotland Makes It Illegal To Hurt A Trans Person’s Feelings.” That’s about the size of it, yeah.

Unfortunately, anybody who imagines this will be the end of it, that the Wokester SS will now contritely accept defeat, pack up their kit, and slink off home to sulk and weep the pain away in ruminative solitude had damned well better think again. Scotland’s Hate Crimes law is still in effect, and there are still great numbers of reality-based Poors out there in need of having their doors kicked in and their skulls clubbed into red, gooey mush by swarming SWAT squaddies. Count on it: The Enemy will be back, more wrathful than ever and way sooner than you probably expect, to seek vengeance against sane, non-celebrity Scots with an assist from Offissa Pupp & His Many Pals.

Even so, a win is a win, and even the most modest, fleeting victory over the foes of decency, truth, and simple objective reality is cause aplenty for celebration. Dancing in the streets, pointing and laughing, and singing “Nyah, nyah, nyah nyah-nyah” in merry mockery of the dejected lunatics all remain strictly optional, of course, but are nevertheless highly encouraged.

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Rowling rips ’em up

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The indomitable JK Rowling, that is, who is the pluperfect example of what I once famously called a Tough Chick.



Much, much more—entirely too much, actually, it’s sickening stuff—before we get to that last one, of which Ace helpfully provides a transcription.

She finished the thread by posting an essay — and daring the Scottish Speech Brute-Squad to come and arrest her.

In passing the Scottish Hate Crime Act, Scottish lawmakers seem to have placed higher value on the feelings of men performing their idea of femaleness, however misogynistically or opportunistically, than on the rights and freedoms of actual women and girls. The new legislation is wide open to abuse by activists who wish to silence those of us speaking out about the dangers of eliminating women’s and girls’ single-sex spaces, the nonsense made of crime data if violent and sexual assaults committed by men are recorded as female crimes, the grotesque unfairness of allowing males to compete in female sports, the injustice of women’s jobs, honours and opportunities being taken by trans-identified men, and the reality and immutability of biological sex.

For several years now, Scottish women have been pressured by their government and members of the police force to deny the evidence of their eyes and ears, repudiate biological facts and embrace a neo-religious concept of gender that is unprovable and untestable. The re-definition of ‘woman’ to include every man who declares himself one has already had serious consequences for women’s and girls’ rights and safety in Scotland, with the strongest impact felt, as ever, by the most vulnerable, including female prisoners and rape survivors.

It is impossible to accurately describe or tackle the reality of violence and sexual violence committed against women and girls, or address the current assault on women’s and girls’ rights, unless we are allowed to call a man a man. Freedom of speech and belief are at an end in Scotland if the accurate description of biological sex is deemed criminal.

I’m currently out of the country, but if what I’ve written here qualifies as an offence under the terms of the new act, I look forward to being arrested when I return to the birthplace of the Scottish Enlightenment.

If you agree with the views set out in this tweet, please retweet it.

#ArrestMe #AprilFools #HateCrimeActScotland

I’m glad she’s doing this. They like going after people with small voices that won’t be heard. They like going after people they can abuse in the darkness and silence.

Well, J.K. Rowling does not have a small voice.

If you really want to arrest people for saying that men are men and will remain men — then start with the near-billionaire with millions of followers on social media. Someone who can not only hire the best lawyers in the world, but who will villainize you for an audience of millions if you arrest her.

So do it, Thought Police.

Or are you just cowards?

Oh, I think we all know the answer to that one well enough, thanks. Then, after the bimbelinas at NAG (the National Association of Gals, in the Limbaugh parlance) slagged Rowling for her…ummm…(checks notes)…White Supremacism (???), Based Megyn Kelly puts in her two cents worth.

Well said, Megyn, you pretty thang, you. Heh—sorry, just couldn’t help it. I DENOUNCE MYSELF!

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Easter blessings

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A perfect Easter Sunday essay from Mark Tapscott, thankfully not paywalled.

Why Easter Is About the Single Most Important Fact in All History

How would you respond were you asked: what is the single most important fact in all of human history?

Rome fell? Roland died so Charlemagne could defeat the Saracens? The printing press? The U.S. Constitution? America beat the Nazis to the atomic bomb?

Those and many more facts have each arguably changed the course of history and could thus be cited with equal assurance of their relevance. However, there is one fact that not only fundamentally altered human history but defined reality for every person who ever has or ever will live.

That fact is the empty tomb of Jesus Christ.

Why the empty tomb? Because on Easter morning and for 40 days thereafter, Jesus was seen, touched, heard, and spoke to His disciples, then to other individuals in and around Jerusalem, and ultimately to more than 500 individuals.

The tomb was empty because Jesus was literally resurrected from the dead, thus validating everything He claimed about Himself, including “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No man comes to the Father but through Me.” (John 14:6).

But wait a minute, you may be thinking: what if somebody stole the dead body of Jesus and then falsely claimed that He had been resurrected? Well, let’s examine that possibility.

There are only three candidate groups who logically might have had a motive for stealing the body of Jesus. First, there are the disciples themselves. Critics have long claimed the disciples stole the body and then invented the Resurrection myth.

Here’s why that claim is preposterous: the disciples scattered when Jesus was arrested. They were terrified that they would be next. Peter’s thrice denial of even knowing Jesus is indicative of the group’s cowardice.

Why is that significant? None of the disciples is known to have had any military training, yet we are to believe that this scattered crew of cowards somehow found the courage to overcome a crack unit of the Roman Legion that was guarding the tomb, or buy them off, then hide Jesus’ body where it would never be found, and afterwards go out and tell everybody that Jesus was God?

The second candidate group would be Jesus’ enemies, chiefly, the Pharisees and Sadducees who were the religious leaders of Israel. Throughout His three-year ministry, Jesus had tangled with these religious leaders who accused Him of blasphemy for claiming to be God-become-man. That’s why they demanded that Pilate order Jesus crucified.

But let’s say they did steal Jesus’ dead body because they were quite aware that He had said He would “rise again.” (Mark 9:31). Weeks after Jesus’ crucifixion and burial Peter spoke to thousands of people on the Day of Pentecost, explicitly claiming Jesus was alive. Three thousand people became Jesus’s followers that day and the Christian church was born.

But if they had stolen His body from the tomb, as soon as Peter began claiming the Resurrection, Jesus’s enemies would have rolled his stinking, rotting corpse down Jerusalem’s Main Street to prove He was dead, not alive.

Then they would likely have arrested Peter and any of the rest of the disciples they could lay their hands on and crucified them. Instead of the day it was born, Pentecost would have been the day the Christian church died.

More follows, all of it well worth a read. Got a few more Easter browser tabs open, which I’m thinking I’ll just append to this post as updates, maybe.

Update! This one seems to be making the rounds all over the place today, as well it should be.


How very far we’ve come since then, every step in precisely the wrong direction.

Updated update! The Crucifixion, the Resurrection, and the Ascension were to the incalculable benefit of all mankind, to be sure. But some may have benefited more directly, more immediately, than others.

Pontius Pilate Sure Glad That Whole ‘Jesus’ Ordeal Is Done With
JERUSALEM — After a difficult week subduing mobs and navigating political landmines, Governor Pontius Pilate was relieved on Saturday to finally have the whole “Jesus of Nazareth” ordeal over and done with for good.

“Whew, glad that’s behind me,” said Pilate as he washed his hands once more. “I’m sure this will all blow over in a week or so. I was starting to worry this ‘Jesus’ episode might end up really coming back to haunt me.”

Though Pilate disagreed with the decision to crucify Jesus, he readily admitted that Jesus’ death helped avoid a stain on his governorship that could make its way into the history books. “I really dodged a stone there,” said Pilate. “A lesser governor could have ended up with a riot on his hands, or even lost control of the populace. I could have become a cautionary tale, like a part of some creed that people repeat. Not Pontius Pilate! Totally crushed it.”

Heh. I’ll give you exactly zero (0) guesses as to where I found this one, folks.

Seven little words

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“My God, why hast thou forsaken me?“

Update! The origin story of the Haydn work is fascinating.

Haydn himself explained the origin and difficulty of writing the work when the publisher Breitkopf & Härtel issued (in 1801) a new edition and requested a preface:

Some fifteen years ago I was requested by a canon of Cádiz to compose instrumental music on the Seven Last Words of Our Savior On the Cross. It was customary at the Cathedral of Cádiz to produce an oratorio every year during Lent, the effect of the performance being not a little enhanced by the following circumstances. The walls, windows, and pillars of the church were hung with black cloth, and only one large lamp hanging from the center of the roof broke the solemn darkness. At midday, the doors were closed and the ceremony began. After a short service the bishop ascended the pulpit, pronounced the first of the seven words (or sentences) and delivered a discourse thereon. This ended, he left the pulpit and fell to his knees before the altar. The interval was filled by music. The bishop then in like manner pronounced the second word, then the third, and so on, the orchestra following on the conclusion of each discourse. My composition was subject to these conditions, and it was no easy task to compose seven adagios lasting ten minutes each, and to succeed one another without fatiguing the listeners; indeed, I found it quite impossible to confine myself to the appointed limits.

The priest who commissioned the work, Don José Sáenz de Santa María, had reconditioned the Oratorio de la Santa Cueva, and paid Haydn in a most unusual way – sending the composer a cake which Haydn discovered was filled with gold coins.

That’s some cake, eh?

Moar Haydn update! For Kenny, one of my all-time favorite Haydn pieces.

I also highly recommend the Queen and Surprise symphonies, as well as his Trumpet Concerto No 1 in Eb Major, for anybody unfamiliar with them.

Powerful moment, powerful story

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One to make even the coldest, most unempathetic heart go pit-a-pat.

WWII RAF veteran reunited with Battle of Britain aircraft
A WWII RAF veteran had the chance to fly alongside the aircraft he helped maintain during the heroic Battle of Britain in 1940.

Jeff Brereton, who celebrated this 102nd birthday earlier this year, took to the air in BE505, the world’s only two seat Hurricane, with R4118, the only remaining airworthy Mk 1 Hurricane to have taken part in the Battle of Britain, and the aircraft Jeff worked on, flying alongside.

Jeff, who lives in Evesham, Worcestershire, said: “I have great memories of the plane. Of all the aircraft I dealt with, that was the one that stuck in my mind. It was unbelievable to be able to see that aircraft again, that it had survived.”

Jeff’s amazing story first come to light when he gave an interview with Air Mail, the RAF Association’s member magazine. The team realised that the Hurricane Jeff worked on had not only been restored but was still flying.

The Association immediately got in touch with James Brown, the current owner of the R4118 Hurricane. James runs Hurricane Heritage, an organisation based at the historic White Waltham Airfield where visitors can experience flying in and alongside these iconic aircraft.

James arranged for Jeff to come to the airfield with his family and jump in the cockpit and take to the skies.

James said: “The story is just an unbelievable coincidence and it’s so incredibly lucky to have found Jeff. I just couldn’t believe that there was this amazing guy who was still around and actually remembers working on our Hurricane.”

Is there video, you ask? Why yes, there is, and it’s three and a half minutes of good, good stuff. The last minute or so especially, when the in-flight footage of those two beautiful old Hurries tooling along in close right echelon kicks in.

During the in-flight sequence of the vid, after his unique check-ride, Brereton says:

The main signal he gave me…he said if you’ve had enough put your thumbs down, and I’ll get you down to the ground as quickly and safely as we can. But I didn’t want to, I was putting them up, I want to go up. And it was that feeling, that sort of feeling that…you can’t have that feeling on earth. You see the same clouds and things, but they don’t look the same, they’re not the same, they don’t feel the same. Just wonderful, I can’t wait to go again. I can’t.

Well said, sir. You just put into words the sensation that makes the miracle of powered flight in a piston-engine aircraft so incredibly addictive. I can’t imagine there’s an aviator alive who didn’t smile and nod his head knowingly in complete agreement with everything you just said. God bless you, Jeff.

Further details of Jeff Brereton’s RAF days perusable here.

(Via Bayou Peter)

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Market reality takes command

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As a WaPo headline cheekily put it many years ago: they’re the car of the future…and they always will be.

‘EV Euphoria Is Dead’: CNBC Declares Transition to Electric Vehicles Has Failed
CNBC has admitted that the attempted transition from gas-powered to electric vehicles (EVs) has failed.

The business-focused news channel explained in a piece on Wednesday that “EV euphoria is dead” and that the largest automakers are drastically scaling back their plans.

The piece read:

For years, the automotive industry has been in a state of EV euphoria. Automakers trotted out optimistic sales forecasts for electric models and announced ambitious targets for EV growth. Wall Street boosted valuations for legacy automakers and startup entrants alike, based in part on their visions for an EV future.

Now the hype is dwindling, and companies are again cheering consumer choice. Automakers from Ford Motor and General Motors to Mercedes-Benz, Volkswagen, Jaguar Land Rover and Aston Martin are scaling back or delaying their electric vehicle plans. Even U.S. EV leader Tesla, which is estimated to have accounted for 55% of EV sales in the country in 2023, is bracing for what “may be a notably lower” rate of growth, CEO Elon Musk said in late January.

The report goes on to outline some of the principal reasons why the market is struggling and concedes that the Biden administration overestimated the willingness of consumers to make the switch from traditional gas-powered vehicles:

After significant interest from early EV adopters — bolstered by low interest rates and Tesla’s rise — interest rates skyrocketed, raw materials costs surged and the vehicles became much more expensive compared with their traditional counterparts.

It’s also become clear that the automotive industry and the Biden administration, which set its own target for half of new U.S. vehicle sales to be electric by 2030, overestimated the willingness of consumers to adopt a new technology without a reliable and prevalent charging infrastructure.

Such an article points to the growing resignation among progressives and advocates of electric vehicles that their proposals do not make economic sense.

So? When have they ever? But the attempt to jam CPVs (Coal Powered Vehicles) down our throats was never about “economic sense” anyway, nor was it really about Saving Mommy Gaia©. This latest farcical iteration of the regularly-recurring flirtation with the electric-car fantasy was only ever about one thing, and one thing alone: power, and control. This was nothing more nor less than the Überstadt flexing its muscles, determined to show its lowly Serf Class who was boss—a show of force by Leviathan intended to establish once and for all who wields ultimate power around here, and who must accede to whom.

Happily, after a piss-poor Scamdemic showing, a large number of Normal Americans finally responded with a bland shrug and a yawn once the initial curiosity-generating hype had subsided—enough of them to elbow the horrendously expensive, unreliable, and dangerous ‘Splodeycar play-purties out of mass-market consideration and back into the garage, lowering and locking the door, then turning out the lights behind them to re-embrace the time-tested and proven, superior, and far more practical ICE technology they had come to rely on for convenient, dependable transportation.

Until next time the EV will o’ the wisp is trotted out to be foisted upon them by too-big, too-powerful government, that is—which, it’s a lead-pipe cinch that there’s gonna be one. Count on it, friends: as the Terminator vowed, they’ll be back. Like Leftards themselves, they’ll never really go away, not for very long.

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The incomparable Grace Kelly

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A few little-known facts about one of the hottest babes EVAR.

3 of 7 A Failed Screen Test Fueled Her Later Success
Sometime between 1950 and 1952 (sources differ on the year), Kelly auditioned for the part of a desperate Irish woman in a New York City-based drama called Taxi (1953). She was passed over for the role, but her screen test eventually found its way to celebrated director John Ford, who lobbied for the little-known actress to be included in his high-profile adventure film Mogambo (1953). Separately, Alfred Hitchcock also saw something intriguing in the same Taxi screen test, leading to Kelly’s first true starring role, in Dial M for Murder (1954).

4 of 7 She Enjoyed a Running Gag With Alec Guinness
As told in Spoto’s High Society, Kelly and Alec Guinness engaged in a running gag that lasted more than two decades after their time together on the prank-filled set of The Swan (1956). After Kelly relentlessly teased her co-star about an overzealous fan, Guinness retaliated by having a concierge slip a tomahawk into her hotel bed. A few years later, Guinness was surprised to return to his London home and discover the same tomahawk nestled between his bedsheets. He later enlisted English actor John Westbrook to redeliver the item while Kelly and Westbrook toured the U.S. for a poetry reading during the 1970s, but her highness got the last laugh when Guinness again found the tomahawk in his Beverly Hills hotel bed in 1979.

5 of 7 Her Romance With Prince Rainier Got Off to a Rocky Start
Per High Society, Kelly was in France to attend the 1955 Cannes Film Festival when she agreed to travel to Monaco to meet Prince Rainier III (part of a scheme put together by the magazine Paris-Match for a photo story). However, the prince was delayed by a commitment elsewhere, and by the time he rushed back to his palace an hour late, his fed-up guest was ready to leave. When Rainier asked if she wanted to tour the palace, Kelly coolly replied that she’d already done so while waiting. They subsequently relaxed while walking through the palace garden, their brief meeting giving rise to an epistolary friendship that turned romantic, and eventually led to their “wedding of the century” in April 1956.

I like Kelly enough to have cobbled myself together a custom desktop pic of her juxtaposed against the NYC skyline many years ago, complete with P-shopped-in lightning bolt, which is still proudly in use to this very day. To wit:

Lasses just don’t come much lovelier and more winsome than Grace Kelly, the likes of which they just aren’t making nowadays, more’s the pity.

Update! Might’s well throw in the two other GK desktops I made at the same time as the above one, these two complete with pithy, apt quotes.

My God, as can be seen in Numero the Second, even Grace’s feet were flawlessly beautiful. And just like that, it occurs to me that I really need to set up the iMac’s desktop-pic-switching automagickal function to alternate randomly between these three. If you can’t squint hard enough to read the two quotes, the first is from Mark Twain: ”What would men be without women? Scarce, sir, mighty scarce.”

The bottom words of eternal wisdom come from Farrah Fawcett (!!): “God gave women intuition and femininity. Used properly, the combination easily jumbles the brain of any man I’ve ever met.” True brilliance and insight from what many would consider a most unlikely source, eh?

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The greatest story ever told

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When it comes to guitars, at any rate.

“So many people lost their guitars. I lost 44”: Peter Frampton recalls how he lost and recovered guitars through floods and plane crashes as he shows off his eye-watering gear collection on Gibson TV
Gibson TV has released its latest episode of The Collection – a web series that sees the firm sit down with big name players to pick apart their vintage guitar gear, and reflect on the stories behind each historic piece.

For its newest hour-and-a-half installment, Gibson’s Mark Agnesi visited Peter Frampton to explore the guitars behind some of his most iconic cuts – as well as recount the tales of loss and recovery that have defined the rock master’s collecting career.

As far as guitar collections go, Frampton’s is especially steeped in history. Not only did he effectively have to restart his guitar collection after losing 44 individual guitars – and numerous pieces of other gear – in a flood in 2010, he also experienced what has become one of the most famous tales of lost-and-found guitars in history.

To that end, the most notable instruments in Frampton’s episode of The Collection are the ones whose histories are interwoven with such stories.

The “Phenix”, for example, takes center stage. The mid-’50s era triple-humbucker Black Beauty Les Paul Custom needs no introduction: as seen on the cover of Frampton Comes Alive!, it is one of the most iconic Les Pauls of all time, and made its way on “just about every track [Frampton] recorded between 1970 and 1980”.

However, in 1980, the “Phenix” went down in a cargo aircraft – which crashed while taking off from Curaçao – and it was believed to have been lost forever. Miraculously, 31 years later, the Les Paul was reunited with its rightful owner after it had been picked up and played over the years by a local musician.

“It was just one of the best feelings in the world,” Frampton recalls of being reunited with the “Phenix”.

Yeah, I just bet it was at that. What a great, heart-warming story, eh? You gotta love it. Didn’t watch the vid, because I almost never do, but I have a sneaking suspicion I may be making an exception in this case.

(Via Lonesome Ed Driscoll)

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Hot DOG!

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SO, this week’s Screamin’ meemie Monday! post over at the Eyrie surpassed all previous records for page-views, and not by just a little bit, either. Nearly doubled the usual hit count, in fact. Many, many thanks to all you readers and subscribers for that signal achievement, both noob and old-salt alike.

I’m humbled and grateful for how successful you’ve made this little side-venture of mine, particularly the slowly growing handful that felt it was worth succumbing to my piteous beseechments to take out a paid Eyrie sub at whatever price-point.

As I’ve recounted many times over lo, these many years: just when I get to feeling underappreciated, burned out, and tired of the whole thing—caught up in a writerly death-spiral which in turn leads me to seriously consider giving this whole futile web-logging schtick up and walking away for good—that’s always when some unlooked-for, out-of-the-blue something like this comes along to boost my flagging spirits, restoring my determination to keep chugging away at it for a little while longer.

Sincerest thanks again to one and all for making both CF and the Eyrie what they are. To my way of thinking, both my prized little online hogwallows are unique in all of website-dom, with their own special atmosphere, attitude, and style; certainly, I’ve yet to come across any other quite like ‘em out there. Over time, CF especially has developed a flavor distinctly its own—spicy, pungent, with a good, hard kick to it—although admittedly it won’t satisfy every taste. Which, frankly, suits me just fine; in fact, if it DID I’d fret about what I was doing wrong.

I’m very proud of the two Innarnuts spaces I’ve created, and derive YUUUUGE satisfaction from the building, running, and managing of them. I do wish Substack offered more options for customization, functionality (no YewToob/Twatter embeds, guys? SRSLY?) and tweaking the design of the Eyrie. Oh well, maybe someday.

Ultimately, though, whatever I may or may not get myself up to behind the curtains amounts to an exercise in pointless onanism; it’s the readers who truly bring a blog to life, if it is to have one. Without you folks regularly checking in; reading; commenting; emailing me links to potential blog-fodder articles; donating and/or subscribing, there really would be no reason to do this at all.

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SOTU follies

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Doddering, decrepit old fool.

Mother Of Laken Riley Slams ‘Pathetic’ Biden For Calling Slain Daughter ‘Lincoln Riley’ During SOTU
The mother of Laken Riley, a young woman who was murdered by an illegal immigrant under the Biden administration’s watch, has publicly criticized President Joe Biden for not remembering her daughter’s name during the State of the Union address.

The incident by the 81-year-old president has sparked outrage among conservative news outlets and the general public.

During the State of the Union address, Biden was confronted by Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene, who demanded that he “say her name” in reference to Laken Riley.

In response, Biden fumbled the pronunciation of Riley’s name, which prompted her mother to speak out against the President.

In several comments posted to Facebook, Riley’s mother said, “It’s just pathetic that the President of the United States couldn’t even remember my daughter’s name. It’s like she didn’t even matter to him.”

Well, I mean, y’know, DUH, lady. Sorry to have to say it and all, but it’s the plain and simple truth, always has been.

Of course I didn’t watch a minute of the stumblebum’s speech—having much more important and productive things to do with my time, like sweeping the kitchen floor, scrubbing the toilet, and/or playing with the cats—but from what I understand, a handful of non-Vichy GOPe Repugnicants like MTG stood up on their hind legs and gave Too Aulde Jaux pure-dee hell, heckling the pRetend ***”pResident”*** with shouts of “say her name!” and “liar!” throughout the State Of The Union Show.

Hey, if national politics is going to be nothing more than entertainment, they at least owe it to us to make it entertaining, right?

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Is Woke broke?

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I don’t really give a tinker’s damn about the two main topics at hand here—the Wokester incursion into comic books, and Gamergate, whatever the hell that was and/or is—being neither a reader of comic books nor a video game person—but I love the “Cancel Pig” epithet so much I’m running with it anyhoo.

The story: A Boston comic retailer complained that he could not sell a lot of the crap comics the industry was spamming out. (Obviously he is very sensitive to bad, unsaleable comics — they murder the retailers who are tricked into buying them, but then cannot sell them for full price, or even for half price. Comic books are not returnable.)

One major complaint he had was that the nitwit writers were not writing classic, very manly characters like Tony Stark or Steve Rogers in-character. Rather, they substitute their own femmy, Current Year concerns, phobias, and anxieties make man’s men parrot their own Twitter freak-outs.

The typical Cancel Police immediately attempted to cancel this man. They made fun of him for being, well, a comic book fan — he was overweight, older, not-too-stylish, and a bit awkward. One obese comic book writer attacked him for being fat.

A woke black comic book artist — well, a low-level artist — named Jerome Igle decided to brand him a racist, not based on anything he said (he did not mention race at all, nor did he allude to it), but based on the fact that he said this guy reminded him of a disgusting, dirty comic book shop owner he had known who was racist.

See, this guy reminded him of someone else, and that guy (he claims) was racist, so: Q.E.D.

Wow, Jerome — good to see your many, many accusations of racism are built upon a firm foundation.

The cancellation train was beginning to chug along and approaching top speed, when suddenly it ran into a problem: star comic book writer Mark Millar, writer of Kick-Ass, the Kingsmen, and a bunch of bestselling comics turned into movies and TV shows, stepped up and defended the comic shop owner, echoed his complaints about storied characters being written as if they were 25-year-old Twitter Addicts, and castigated people for attempting to cancel a man for merely offering his (unobjectionable) opinion.

Suddenly the comic book “pros” who were attempting to cancel him fell into retreat. The obese comic book writer who’d made fun of the comic shop owner for being overweight now clarified he didn’t mean to call him “fat” as an insult, no, not at all! He had merely called him fat to show that fat comic book nerds should stand in solidarity.

One by one, the would-be cancellers made excuses and softened their objections.

Then Millar coined a new term for then — he called them “Cancel Pigs,” which a pungent, memorable, and highly accurate term for these scumbags. That term, “Cancel Pigs,” has now exploded in popularity and is the most popular way to refer to these miserable fascists.

And rightly so, too. Well, except for the gratuitous insult to actual, y’know, pigs, of the four-legged, oink oink oink, rooting and wallowing in slop persuasion. They’ll just have to bear up under the strain somehow, poor dears. As to whether Woke is finally on the run or not, all I have to say about that is it’s about fucking time.

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CF Glossary

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