Pass The Popcorn!

The man, the moment, the legend

Posted on July 14, 2024July 14, 2024 by Mike

An inspirational message from President Donald John Trump.

May God forever bless and keep you, sir.

And so, thanks entirely to the vile, vicious Left’s arrogance; their reckless, incandescent hatred; their fathomless self-regard; and their unquenchable lust for absolute power and control…well, here we all are at last, forced all unwilling into the dreadful corner none of us ever wished to find ourselves in, nor dreamed we ever would.

Fittingly enough for historical illiterates such as they, once again it’s just as ADM Yamamoto memorably, sorrowfully, and presciently esteemed in a bygone era the ineducable Left knows not of: all they have done is to awaken a sleeping giant and fill him with a terrible resolve. If any of y’all rowdies and/or rapscallions want to think of it as, say, Hirohito’s Folly Redux, I’ll cheerfully put a “yeppers” to it.

Remember “all we wanted was to be left alone”? Well, they flatly refused to honor that most humble of requests, though they easily might have with no inconvenience or loss to themselves of any conceivable sort. Alas and alack, that’s all over and done with now; to the incalculable cost of one and all, that good ship and true has officially sailed, with the vain fantasy of “peaceful coexistence” aboard her. May they be made to regret this fateful miscalculation—profoundly, agonizingly, and without surcease—for however long they have left to live.

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Showdown at the Bundy ranch

Posted on July 12, 2024July 12, 2024 by Mike

Divemedic posts an important, timely reminder of how it’s fucking DONE, saying:

To those who say that citizens armed with AR15s can’t beat the Federal government, I remind you of the events that happened a decade ago…

Indeed. Suggestive of a little something of my own devising I’ll dub Bedford Forrest’s Law of Government©: If you keep the skeer on ‘em, they will retreat. Now for DM’s call-out:

Every red blooded American should be reminded of the events of April 12, 2014.

The day the Bundy family got their cattle back. pic.twitter.com/3ZK2slClIz

— Tall Bill from NH (the/man) (@billisajoke)

April 13, 2024

Henceforth, Real Americans should celebrate April 12th as if it was Independence Day v2.0. Because, as historical events go, that’s exactly what it is.

Update! The classical station just played Rossini’s Overture to The Barber of Seville, which put me in mind of the perfect musical accompaniment for this post.

The ever-excellent Gioachino Rossini also, of course. One of my verymost favorite orchestral-music composers of them all, and small wonder. For me, it’s not so much the Three B’s (Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms, two of whom I’ve never really liked all that much) as it is the Four Non-Contiguous Consonants: Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, and Rossini. Might ought to’ve worked Chopin, Haydn, Tchaichovsky, Rachmaninoff, and Verdi into the mix too, but what the hell. You can’t please all the people all of the time, and should never try lest you wind up shitting and falling back in it, as my stern, tough as parboiled steer-hide, wise old Grandmaw Hubbard—better known to three generations of Hubbards and McAllisters as “Big Mama”—liked to caution her grand-young’uns.

Unrelated update! OT side-note: Just thought I’d let all interested parties know that the anti-spam plugin I installed last night, available here, seems to be working like a charm so far—not so much as a hint of a murmur of a whisper of a breath from the thrice-bedamned spamsterbot hordes as of yet, thank goodness. Hope I didn’t jinx myself by mentioning it. Sort of like what I’ve always maintained: you never, EVER say things like “What next?” or ‘How much worse can it be?” in the midst of some travail or tribulation—because God takes such expostulations as a challenge or dare, and will assuredly get busy toot sweet showing you what’s next, and just how much worse it could be.

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And the b(l)eat goes on

Posted on July 12, 2024July 12, 2024 by Mike

There’s just no hope at all for some “people.”

There have always been two Joe Bidens. The empathetic, decent, big-hearted leader, forged in loss and grief, finding the good in his friends and opponents, in love with America, arms wide and open with space for everyone. And there’s the blowhard with a chip on his shoulder,…

— Jon Lovett (@jonlovett)

July 10, 2024

FAIR WARNING: It’s a long ‘un, brimming o’er with more of the same species of delusional codswallop, in case anyone wants to befoul himself by clicking over for the rest—an irrational, self-destructive inclination I won’t even pretend to understand. No, I will NOT be C&P’ing the extended post-“Show more” twaddle this time out, because fuck that noise.

Happily, Meestah COL Schlichter courageously steps in to flush the noxious turd down the stink-pipe and away before it can smell up the joint beyond hope of repair.

Joe Biden was an asshole, and he’s still an asshole and he’s the worst president since at least Jimmy Carter if not,James Buchanan. He’s not a decent nice guy. He’s an idiot. He’s corrupt. He’s a pervert. And he’s a jerk. A narcissistic, selfish jerk, and he always has been.

If… https://t.co/V09x10w4de

— Kurt Schlichter (@KurtSchlichter)

July 10, 2024

In the case of the esteemed COL Schlichter, unlike the previous asswart, I’m only too happy to provide the rest of the clickbait story for y’all.

…If he pulls out, it is a confession of his total inadequacy and failure, and I celebrate his humiliation. But he’s not going to be pulling out, because to do that would be to put the needs of other people and the country ahead of his own ego and he’ll never do that because he’s a bad, bad person.

And so is his wife.

WHOA, that’s good squishy!

As the overbooked proctologist reputedly complained to his frazzled assistant: Is there no end to these assholes?

Grateful thanks to Schlichter for the speedy, selfless save; hope your singed nostril-hairs grow back in with no complications or discomfort, Kurt. As for the blistered paint, cracked window-glass, and damaged thundermug, pas de sweat; that ain’t on you, buddy, you already did your bit and then some. Above and beyond the call, I’d say. Next time you’re moved to deal out another righteous smackdown to some deserving dumbass, may I recommend using both backhand AND forehand strokes in your delivery, so as to ensure the intended lesson is not merely learned, but permanently instilled. Additionally, as every serious golfer knows, a vigorous, complete follow-through is critical, particularly with the more stubborn, marginally-educable specimens.

Elsewhere, our pal Aesop examines another self-inflicted auto-da-fé, this one starring a violence-avowing, Biden-fellating punkass beeyotch who now faces follow-on consequences far more dire, including but in no wise restricted to:

Loss of employment, professional reputation/status, and career prospects
Federal criminal investigation, possible indictment and/or prosecution for issuing serial terroristic threats, aggravated by repeated witting, brazenly non-metaphorical exhortations to widespread murder, mayhem, civil disorder, even the assassination of a specifically-identified former President/current lawful major-party candidate as well as the respectable, law-abiding civilians who support his Presidential campaign
Social shunning, banishment, and/or informal exile
Eviction, homelessness, soul-scarring poverty
Sundry other dick-in-the-meatgrinder repercussions

It’s a joy to behold, far as I’m concerned.

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The song that wouldn’t die

Posted on July 11, 2024July 11, 2024 by Mike

That would be “The Farewell Song,” author unknown, better known as…well here, see for yourself.

Thanks much to Lakeside Joe for reminding me of this one, in the course of making sport of hapless shitlib George Effing Clooney’s despairing agony over (not so) recent revelations regarding the collapse into senile dementia of his love-object Xombie Jaux “Walks Among Us” Bribem. Sayeth Joe:

According to news sources including the New York Slimes, Clooney made the call for a new candidate in an op-ed published in The New York Times, less than a month after he co-hosted a Biden fundraiser that raised some $30 million.

I guess the song rings true after all…

Heh. It does at that, for all sorts of excellent reasons. Now, it must be acknowledged that Clooney’s lip-sync performance of the great old bluegrass tune in O Brother Where Art Thou? is nothing short of masterful. While we’re on the subject, the song’s backstory is fascinating, if a bit murky in places. For starters, although I put it in the “author unknown” category earlier, it would be more accurate to say that it’s a matter of some dispute.

Behind The Song: The Soggy Bottom Boys, “I Am a Man Of Constant Sorrow”
You’d think after one hundred years, “Man Of Constant Sorrow” would eventually get old. But the American folk standard, which has been covered by everyone from a young Bob Dylan to Norwegian girl-group Katzenjammer, and helped launch the modern Americana movement with its canny placement in the film O Brother, Where Art Thou?, has been on music lovers’ collective minds since at least 1913. Through many different melodies, rewrites, and iterations (“girl,” “soul,” etc.) “Man Of Constant Sorrow” has refused to die.

It’s the old-timey gift that keeps on giving; feeling bad never felt so good.

Anybody familiar with the Oscar-nominated O Brother and its multi-platinum-selling soundtrack can sing a verse or two. T Bone Burnett, who produces every third commercially released record these days, curated the music for the Coen Brothers’ celebrated sepia-toned satire, and made the song The Soggy Bottom Boy’s big, show-stealing number. Portrayed by George Clooney, George Nelson and John Turtorro, who may or may not be able to carry a tune, the real-life vocals for The Soggy Bottom Boys were provided by Nashville songwriter Harley Allen, bluegrass musician Pat Enright, and Dan Tyminksi, a guitar and mandolin player on loan from Alison Krauss and Union Station. Tyminski’s big, beautiful bear of a voice, echoed by Enright and Allen’s brown-sugared harmonies, brimmed with enough soul, grit and fire to make a distracted nation stand up and take notice. In a movie that featured strong vocal turns from Ralph Stanley, Gillian Welch and Alison Krauss, Tyminski more than held his own. He also sang the song as if he’d lived it, and with such conviction that it eventually made it to No. 35 on the Billboard Hot Country Singles chart in 2002. O Brother helped make Tyminski, Krauss, Welch and Burnett the highly respected (and marketable) artists they are today, and spawned a fantastic music tour and the live concert film Down From The Mountain. There was a trickle-down effect as well, which can be seen in the thriving careers of today’s heavily hyped, acoustic-leaning acts like The Avett Brothers and Mumford & Sons.

Neither movies, album sales, or inexplicably popular British folk acts were likely on the mind of the song’s creator, current name and whereabouts unknown. It’s speculated that it spilled from the pen of Dick Burnett (a distant relative of T Bone?), a mostly blind fiddler from Kentucky, but that’s not confirmable. Burnett, who published the tune under the name “Farewell Song” in a 1913 songbook, had a senior moment when he was asked if he had actually written it, stating “I think I got the ballad from somebody…I dunno. It may be my song.” Ralph Stanley didn’t think so. The bluegrass legend told NPR that the song was probably one or two hundred years older than Burnett himself. “The first time I heard it I was a small boy,” recalled Stanley, who named his autobiography after it. “My daddy had some of the words to it, and I heard him sing it, and my brother and me, we put a few more words to it, and brought it back in existence. I guess if it hadn’t been for that, it’d have been gone forever.”

Far be it from me to ever gainsay the legendary Ralph Stanley; if he says he wrote it, whether in part or in full, then by God it MUST be so, period. Anyways.

As The Stanley Brothers, Ralph and his brother Carter gave the song its big coming out party in 1951, when they cut it for Columbia Records. Once it was absorbed into the folk music canon, Bob Dylan took a shine to it, recording it on his 1961 debut covers album, Bob Dylan. Dylan’s version is far more sorrowful than the O Brother version, with a melody that’s quite different from Tyminski’s. And like the rest of the record, it shows off his unique ability to impersonate a weathered, phlegmatic old man (long before he would actually become one.) But Joan Baez, his future duet partner, got there first, spicing it up pronoun-wise (as she was wont to do) by turning it into “Girl Of Constant Sorrow” (perhaps taking her cue from widower Sarah Ogan Gunning’s lyrical rewrite in 1936). Judy Collins followed suit in ‘61; her debut album was dubbed A Maid Of Constant Sorrow, and it sure was melancholy.

If everyone could agree on the effectiveness of the song’s central conceit, no one seems to be able to come up with a consensus on the words. The O Brother version has this choice nugget: You can bury me in some deep valley / For many years where I may lay / Then you may learn to love another/ While I am sleeping in my grave.” Dylan’s version has no such verse, but plays up the young, rebellious boyfriend aspect: “You’re mother says I’m a stranger, my face you’ll never see no more,” he tells his soon to be ex-lover, before promising to sneak around with her in heaven. Dylan’s protagonist wanders “through ice and snow, sleet and rain,” while Stanley’s spends “six long years in trouble,” with no friends to help him now.

Whether the singer is saying goodbye to old Kentucky (Tyminski), Colorado (Dylan), or California (Collins), somebody is getting the big kiss off. “Man Of Constant Sorrow” is essentially one of America’s oldest breakup songs. “If I knew how bad you’d treat me, honey I never would have come.” It’s that sunny outlook that has helped “Man Of Constant Sorrow” remain an essential part of popular music’s long, constantly evolving story.

As any good Southern boy could tell you, it points up the strange paradox inherent in the bluegrass genre: instrumentally, it’s the ultimate feel-good music; no way can you be downhearted whilst listening to that good ol’ mountain music. The sound is bouncy, uplifting, joyous, making the spirit soar and the heart fairly leap up into your mouth with gladness. Seriously, now: banjos, mandolins, fiddles, guitars, Dobros, all played up-tempo with a lilting, infectious beat? I defy ANYBODY to keep from smiling, do-si-do-ing, and hand-clapping along! Pass me that jug of good old mountain dew, willya?

Lyrically, however, we’ve a whole ‘nother kettle o’ fish. Bluegrass lyrics are some of the verymost depressing you’ll ever hear, in any musical style, revolving around death and murder and suicide and loss and loneliness and heartbreak and regret. Even as unrelievedly morose a specimen of opera seria as Mozart’s troubling Don Giovanni isn’t in the same league with bluegrass. “Man Of Constant Sorrow” is a pluperfect manifestation of bluegrass’s bizarre built-in dichotomy. To wit:

[Verse 3]
It’s fare thee well, my old true lover
I never expect to see you again
For I’m bound to ride that Northern Railroad
Perhaps I’ll die upon this train
(Perhaps he’ll die upon this train)

[Verse 4]
You can bury me in some deep valley
And you may learn to love another
While I am sleeping in my grave
(While he is sleeping in his grave)

[Verse 5]
Maybe your friends think I’m just a stranger
My face you never will see no more
But there is one promise that is given
I’ll meet you on God’s golden shore
(He’ll meet you on God’s golden shore)

That last verse is the closest bluegrass lyrics ever get to sweetness, light, and cheery optimism. You can take my word for it on that, gang; I’ve loved the genre nearly as long as I’ve been alive, therefore know whereof I speak. Grim? Granted. Bleak? Beyond debate. Depressing? Well, I mean, duh. But somehow bluegrass just rocks me right down to my socks nevertheless, always has done. Could be it’s just a Southern thang, I dunno.

In fact, in my first decade or so of digging on the bluegrass I listened to the instrumental stuff exclusively; I didn’t really start paying attention to the with-vocals variety until I gave the vocal stylings of icons like Mac Wiseman, the Stanleys, Red Allen, and Bill Monroe in my late 20s a few reluctant listens rather than fast-forwarding to the next instrumental, the fruits of a remainder-bin compilation cassette I bought at some truck stop or other featuring those and several other fabled vocalists I’d studiously avoided up til then.

In addition to George Clooney’s excellent lip-syncing (and, of course, nonpareil jig-reeling), a big, bodacious tip of the CF chapeau is due to Dan Tyminski, the fellow responsible for the actual singing Clooney rose to the occasion of so adroitly. Note ye well, please, the flawless phrasing and emotive depth and breadth Tyminski brings to the party. Lots of musical-minded folks have insisted for decades that Sinatra’s phrasing has never been equalled, nor even approached, with which I won’t quarrel here. That said, Tyminski doesn’t suffer any from the comparison with Ol’ Blue Eyes, in my expert, well-trained opinion.

All in all, it’s no wonder “Man Of Constant Sorrow” has enjoyed over a century’s worth of staying power. Being one of those small musical miracles that can raise goosebumps on the forearms of even the most jaded, world-weary aficionado, it’s probably good for another century or two at the very least. And how many other pop/folk confections, of any sub-genre, can say that?

Seeing as how I’ve yet to bring up bluegrass around Ye Aulde Hogwallowe, for some unknowable reason, we’ll instate a new category just for that sort of thing.

“Divorce”?

Posted on July 10, 2024July 10, 2024 by Mike

Not buying it. Not for a minute I ain’t, nor should you. As I said the other day, there’s a heckuva lot more going on here than meets the eye.

The Divorce of the Democrat Party and the Legacy Media – What it Means
Embarrassed and humiliated by four years of gaslighting Joe Biden’s deteriorating condition, the media turns on the Democrat Party in a CYA move.

The debacle surrounding recent events, including the Biden-Trump debate of June 27, spells the end of the Democrat Party as we know it. For generations, the media has been willing accomplices but the past 10 days have finally removed the protection and propaganda the media has provided Democrats for generations.

It was an unbelievable turnaround that was decades in the making. A compliant legacy media running cover for the Democrat Party as it worked to “fundamentally transform” America into a socialist paradise. The first step was to take over nearly one-fifth of the economy by nationalizing health care (Obamacare). The second step, even more damaging to our fundamental sense of the rule of law, was to weaponize the federal bureaucracy to punish citizens who objected to the trillions of dollars allocated to grow the administrative state.

It seemed as though the legacy media had the perfect strategy in place to divert attention away from the workings of the Democrats and to push narratives that were favorable to the party. Finally, after the legacy was shown to be an Emperor with no clothes, they struck back to cover up their complicity, saying, “We had no idea that Biden’s decline was this obvious.”

If you need a clear indication of this denial, watch this train wreck orchestrated by Mark Halperin on his 2Way podcast. Halperin, once a Morning Joe regular on MSNBC with John Heilemann, was unceremoniously dumped in 2017 in the aftermath of sexual harassment allegations dating back to the early 2000s when he worked at ABC News. On the 2Way podcast, Inside the Beltway elites—consultants like Mark Katz, pollsters like Whit Ayres, political operatives like Phil Singer, and politicians like John Sununu—now cover for each other as they try to distance themselves from Biden and his administration after almost four years of sucking up.

The incessant gaslighting was finally exposed to the masses by the debate. But not before it had served its purpose, which was to hide two stone-cold facts. The first was obvious: Joe Biden was not qualified to be president. Second, the American legacy media has been engaged in a broad series of disgraceful cover-ups for years that shielded the Democrat Party from the public finding out its worst actions.

This shredding of relations between Democrats and the legacy media is a watershed moment that will be remembered as the point where the mask of decency and the skinsuit of credibility were ripped off both from the Democrats and the legacy media. The conspiracy of silence over Joe Biden’s health is now fully on display for everyone to see.

There may well be a “divorce” in the works alright, but if so it’s a three-way tussle involving Enemedia, the D卐M☭CRAT Party, and Biden, aimed at jettisoning a senile ***”pResident”*** that overnight began to look like more of a liability than an asset. But the sacred D卐M☭CRAT/Enemedia union is a forever kind of deal, ’til death they do part. Those matrimonial ties are enduring, a bond as unbreakable as the cleanest, straightest TIG-weld bead—a seam laid down by the almighty hand of God His Own Self. What God hath joined together, let no floundering, suddenly-inconvenient ProPol put asunder.

“Divorce”? Not on your life, pal; Leftist catechism condemns it as a mortal sin—one of the top three or four, among the Unholiest of Unholies, right up there with Climate Carelessness and Indifference to LGBTQRSTUVWXYZ Issues. Don’t let yourself be gulled by flights of editorial fancy penned by long-suffering conservative media hopheads flying on yet another Hopium jag. On that path lyeth embarrassment, futility, and despair.

Likewise, don’t let’s anybody fritter away a minute of their valuable time writhing on pins and needles awaiting Enemedia’s shamefaced and penitent return to the D卐M☭CRAT Party flock. Fact is, it never left, and it ain’t ever gonna either. It’s a trick, a trap, a mug’s game—exactly the sort of thing we OG bloggers used to derisively jeer at back in the Aulden Thymes as “boob bait for the Bubbas.” If The Enemy wants us to believe they’re in full-throttle discord, disarray, and personal confusion—which appears to be the case, judging by the clangor and unprecedented unanimity of the mass-chorus of Leftwits proclaiming themselves to be so—then the question we most need to be asking ourselves is why that might be.

Shitlibs—“journalismists,” no less—humbly, honestly, and openly admitting error? Frankly and forthrightly ‘fessing up to having been deceived? No excuses, no evasions, no attempts to blame Real American ignoramii/Trump/toxic White males/fully-semi-automatic assault weapon guns/“fossil” fuels and the deadly, antiquated ICE planet-killers which burn the foul hellbrew/genocidal UltraÜberMegaMAGA ReichWingNaziDeathBeast insurrectionists/Xtianists/RAYCISS!!© bigots/etc etc etc? Contrition and regret, followed by an uncompromising resolve to do better going forward? Conscientious, seemingly sincere self-examination to ascertain how these crusty, jaded, worldly reporter-types got snookered so resoundingly, without ever once twigging to the game? Sorrowful acknowledgment of the catastrophic loss of public trust in establishment media caused by the systemic perversion of the most fundamental tenets of adversary journalism?

Oh, how entirely characteristic of these tirelessly-dedicated, incorruptible “jouralismists.” Oh, how clearly I remember the last time we beheld such an inspiring display of these finer, nobler qualities, ethics, and/or inclinations after they’d shit the bed so appallingly, back in…umm…lemmessee now, it was…it was no more than…uhhh, yeah, I think that musta been…uhhhhhhh…errrr, wasn’t it only just…ummmmm…

Yeah, NO. Sorry, not buying any. You’ll have to peddle that shit someplace else, ain’t no market for it over here. Leftists, may I remind you, with no plan, no program, no end-game, no orchestration, no objective in mind well beforehand; everything random, spontaneous, unrehearsed. When’s the last time you ever heard of so remarkable a thing? You haven’t…because it’s never happened. Remember the kind of priggish, preening, Church Lady-types we’re talking about here, folks. For them, the will to control isn’t merely a preference, an idle pursuit, or even a relatively innocuous habit of mind: it’s hard-coded into their DNA. Not a choice, but a compulsion; not a psychological eccentricity, but a biological imperative. Not a harmless quirk, but a deadly-dangerous, instinctual need.

If you think the above evaluation a mite over the top, unfairly harsh, perhaps even made up or at best exaggerated, I beg to inform you that actually, it’s the product of many years of firsthand experience with the breed, up close and personal. Trust me, the music-biz is slap full of ‘em, full to overflowing. Yes, exactly like a clogged toilet. The parallels are downright uncanny. Also, disgusting.

For anyone still unconvinced on this, I suggest you try bucking a Leftist whilst he/she is deep in the thralls of flexing his/her Power & Control muscles, in even the most insignificant context. I guarantee it will be a revelation for you—a powerfully educational interlude you’ll remember always, vividly and painfully, regardless of how desperately you’ll wish you could forget it ever happened. Remain alert and aware as the contest of will progresses, on your toes and ready to run for your life the instant it feels needful. Which it definitely will, unless you back down and mollify your triumphant adversary with an intimate, candid, exhaustively specific recitative detailing what an insufferable asshole prick you are, always have been, and doubtless shall remain.

THEN run, just as hard, as fast, and as far as you can. That should get you far enough from the blast radius to be safe.

BOTTOM LINE SUMMATION: According to the known odds, contemporaneous evidence, the historical record, and the nature of the “journalismic” beast, this “divorce” alarum is poppycock—a pre-scripted ruse staged for purposes we know not of as yet, likely never will. Nothing more, nothing less, nothing but. Remember the Steyn Maxim:

This is happening because they want it to happen.

The guys running this soap opera know the ending they’re working up to, and any unexpected plot twists en route are designed to serve that end.

Indubitably so. Biden may be a goner himself, politically speaking, but the D卐M☭CRAT/Enemedia “divorce” story is a put-on, ninety-nine and forty-four-hundredths percent pure bunkum. A love like theirs can never die, and anyone trying to tell you otherwise is either a fool or no more to be trusted than your average Congresscritter, shitlib “journalismist,” or snake-oil peddler.

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Said it before, gonna say it again: greatest USSC Justice EVAR

Posted on July 9, 2024July 9, 2024 by Mike

Guess who.

Justice Thomas: Of course, the AR-15 is legal under Second Amendment
Supreme Court Associate Justice Clarence Thomas showed his hand on Tuesday on the issue of whether AR-15-style rifles are legal. His Second Amendment analysis: They are.

In a brief dissent related to an Illinois ban on the “assault weapon,” Thomas said that the overwhelming popularity of the firearm, coupled with its non-military operation, makes it a clear fit under the Second Amendment.

His comments come as President Joe Biden is stepping up his assault on the popular “modern sporting rifle.” Biden was behind the 1994 ban and has been seeking to ban it since that law died in 2004.

The AR-15 has become the most popular rifle in America. The National Shooting Sports Foundation said that at 28.1 million, there are more AR-15-style firearms in circulation than Ford F-150s on the road.

The 7th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals denied the petitioners’ request for a preliminary injunction, saying the AR-15 is not protected by the Second Amendment. The Supreme Court justices have declined to get involved for now.

“We are obviously very disappointed for the millions of legal gun owners in Illinois by today’s decision not to grant emergency relief, but we’re not giving up. And today’s decision does not impact the merits of our case for our upcoming hearing on September 16h in the Southern District of Illinois,” ISRA Executive Director Richard Pearson said.

“Our objective from the very beginning of the process that started the moment Gov. Pritzker signed the bill into law — was to take our case to the United States Supreme Court. And we followed through on that promise, and despite today’s decision — if given the chance, we’d do it all over again because it is the right thing to do,” Pearson said.

Thomas encouraged that plan. “If the Seventh Circuit ultimately allows Illinois to ban America’s most common civilian rifle, we can — and should — review that decision once the cases reach a final judgment. The Court must not permit ‘the Seventh Circuit [to] relegat[e] the Second Amendment to a second-class right,’” the Supreme Court justice wrote.

Give ‘em pure-T hell, Mr Justice Thomas, sir. Gee, wonder why the shitlibs hate the man with such bitter, wild-eyed ferocity. Puzzling, innit?

Lest we forget, “nice guy” and “good, good man” Pedaux Jaux Bribem was one of the main players behind the fabricated smear-job accusations hurled at Thomas during his SC confirmation hearings high-tech lynching, an abominable circus that put paid once and for all to the ludicrous mischaracterization of the US Senate as “the world’s greatest deliberative body.”

Oh, and about that “good, good man” nonsense.

The talking points must have gone out within minutes of the end of President Joe Biden’s lame debate performance. Among the first to tell us just how fine a man Biden was Barack Obama, who called his former vice president “someone who has fought for ordinary folks his entire life.” It is, of course, a lie. Biden is not a good man, and the idea he’s “fought for ordinary folks” for even a single day of his “public service” is risible.

Obama’s tweet also claimed that Biden is the candidate “who knows right from wrong and will give it to the American people straight.” From there, the gaslighting grew exponentially worse.

At a July 2 fundraiser in Virginia, Democratic Rep. Don Beyer, whom Biden once called “Doug,” compared our disabled president to Jesus.

“He has been a good, good man. He’s resilient, optimistic, indefatigable, and above all courageous,” said Boyer.

On the day after the debate, New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman, who admitted that watching the debate made him “weep,” assured us that Biden is “a good man and a good president.”

There was even a book published in 2020 that had the title “A Good & Decent Man: Joe Biden: Rescuing America.”

After wading hip deep through the malarkey, let’s look at the Biden record.

Read on for the ugly reality, which bears not even a passing resemblance to the above hagiographic, knob-polishing codswallop.

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The one and only

Posted on July 7, 2024July 7, 2024 by Mike

At long, long last, a candidate I can get behind with all my heart, soul, mind, spirit, and body, to my last ounce of strength.

Sometimes the right person emerges. When we needed a person to see us through the War for Independence and to serve as this new nation’s first president, Washington emerged. When Britain found itself fighting for its life against Nazi Germany, Churchill emerged. When our country was tearing itself apart over the slavery question, Lincoln emerged.

And now, in our troubled times, David ‘Iowahawk’ Burge has emerged.

Man, has he ever. And how.

Qualifications:

-Natural born US citizen over the age of 35
-GED from Woodbury County Youth Correctional
-No felony convictions upheld on appeal
-knows/aware of/remembers things

— David Burge (@iowahawkblog)

June 28, 2024

Platform:

-Will work at home from Zoom, White House now a tourist trap & gift shop
-No photo ops, in fact you will never know what I look like
-No Executive Orders ever
-Will veto every fucking bill that Congress sends me, get a 2/3 majority assholes
-Will cheerfully leave…

— David Burge (@iowahawkblog)

June 28, 2024

The above infuriatingly-truncated “Read more” passage ends thusly: “…leave office after four years.” Which is of course a baldfaced lie, or so we must hope; President-for-Life the Right Hon Mr David NMI Burge would be totally jake with me, I gots no objection, although YMMV. If so, please keep it on the down-low, I really don’t wanna know. It would pain me no end to see any of my beloved CF Lifers permanently beclown himself by publicly confessing to such disgraceful Wrongthink as that.

At any rate, the laff-train keeps a-rolling all night long from there:

-Golf handicap: I have never been on a golf course that didn’t have windmills and fiberglass clowns, otherwise I find the game is a stupid waste of time

-vigor: I can still dunk a nerf hoop

-mental acuity: read my TL dumbass

— David Burge (@iowahawkblog)

June 28, 2024

Lots, lots more after that one, every last syllable likewise meeting or surpassing the impossibly-high IowahawkCorp© standards for Beverage-Spewing Hilarity, Aggravated GutBustery w/HowlinglyFunny cluster, and/or RightdafuckON, Muhfuhgr! we’ve all come to expect from that crazy-ass fool.

FULL DISCLOSURE OF UNACCEPTABLE JOURNALISMIC BIAS: I’ve been good buds with the legendary David Burge (FACT CHECK: NOT his real name, nor is “Iowahawk,” astonishingly enough) for quite a few years, although over the last several we’ve fallen out of touch, to my boundless regret and ensorrowment.

Dave, if you happen across this, my phone # has changed since we last talked, so do please kite me one of them newfangled electronic-mail thingamabobbers instead (mike-at-cf-dot-etc) when you get a spare minute, wouldja? I realize you’re a busy, busy beaver and all, but I’d truly admire to hear from ya, old friend, it’s been way too long. Hope this missive finds you still fightin’ fit, happy as some clams, and generally doing well—seeing’s how “doing good” sorta cuts against your usual warp and woof and so would feel pretty dang weird, probably for both of us.

Best wishes for fair winds and following seas on your write-in White House run; we could certainly do worse for a Prez-mo-dent, MUCH worse, and likely will. Gaia knows we have, more than just once, twice, or thrice at that.

And to think, the Beltway (Butt)Bandits consider Trump an outsider.

T’would serve those never-to-be-sufficiently-damned Swamp-rats right, sayeth moi.

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The most important American revolutionary figure you never heard of

Posted on July 4, 2024July 4, 2024 by Mike

Even students of American history as avid as myself may not have heard of…ummm…(checks notes)…Caesar Rodney?!?

The Midnight Ride of Caesar Rodney Brought America Independence
Listen, my children, and you shall hear of the midnight ride of…Caesar Rodney. While Rodney might not have a famous poem written about his nighttime journey, his ride was just as historic as Revere’s and vital to the passage of the July 1776 Declaration of Independence.

On July 2, 1776, the delegates for 13 colonies at the Continental Congress voted for American independence from Great Britain. (It then took the delegates two days to agree on an edited draft for the public, hence our July 4 holiday.) But what many Americans don’t know is that, on July 1, independence hung in the balance — and one man came to break a tie and ensure the establishment of a new nation.

Before the Revolution, Caesar Rodney had already been involved in politics, having served as a Justice of the Superior Court for the Three Lower Counties and a colonial legislator. Indeed, according to the National Park Service (NPS), Rodney had attended the 1765 Stamp Act Congress, and he had “usurped the prerogative of the proprietary Governor by calling a special meeting of the legislature at New Castle” after Parliament closed Boston’s harbor in 1774. Then Rodney went with his former collaborators, Thomas McKean and George Read, to be delegates for Delaware in the First Continental Congress.

During his time in the Continental Congress, however, Rodney periodically returned to Delaware for military or political duties (he was a militia colonel). NPS states that Caesar Rodney was investigating Loyalists in Delaware when he received a historic dispatch from McKean.

On July 1, 1776, Rodney received a letter from Philadelphia in Dover, Del. The Continental Congress had scheduled a vote for the very next day, July 2, on the proposal from Virginian Richard Henry Lee that “these united colonies are, and of right ought to be free and independent states.”

The story goes on from there, and it’s good, eye-opening stuff—the sort of tale that neatly encapsulates American exceptionalism and the personalities, courage, and derring-do that made our fallen nation what it once was, all in one nifty little package.

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Take it back

Posted on July 4, 2024July 4, 2024 by Mike

Sayeth Eric Peters, and I could not possibly agree more.

Tomorrow is the 4th of July, the day Americans traditionally celebrate the independence of the American colonies that became states (plural) from Great Britain, which was not accomplished by asking for it.

The American colonists – some of them, a determined minority of them – took their independence.

And now the time has come to take it back.

Americans live in a consolidated state controlled by a central government so controlling it is challenging to come up with anything at all that it considers to be beyond its control. No one can be independent when subject to such control.

Americans are obliged to submit to such control at practically every turn. The only control they are permitted is to cast a single vote out of tens of millions for one of two controllers. We will not elect our way out of this. There is only one way out of this. It is the same way the American colonists got away from the control of king and parliament.

They got away from it.

Certainly, they had to fight for it. But what came before it came to fighting? The determination by a committed minority of Americans that they would no longer abide being controlled by king and parliament – and, implicitly, by anyone else. That was the spirit that animated the fighting, without which the fight would have been lost. The Americans who fought were out-manned and out-gunned in every battle that was fought, just about – especially the early ones. But it was what they were fighting for that made each man worth more than just a man (of which the British had plenty). Put another way, when a man fights for himself – and for his family and his friends – he has a lot more incentive to fight than a man who fights for a paycheck.

Give me liberty or give me death.

It is hard to fight men animated by such a sentiment. It is also hard to conquer them. John Adams, the second president of what became the United States (still plural when Adams was president) said that the fight for independence was won before the fight started when a minority of committed Americans decided the time had come to fight. Put another way, when those Americans came manfully face-to-face with the hard reality that independence would not be achieved by asking for it.

Perhaps a sufficient minority of committed Americans understands this now. Are you one of them?

Are you willing to take your independence back? For your own sake? For the sake of your children – and theirs, yet to be born?

That truly IS the burning question for all Real Americans at this point, isn’t it? Eric goes on to stipulate that it doesn’t necessarily have to come to actual, physical violence, although it very well might—and in my view almost certainly will, although I’d be nothing short of ecstatic to be proven wrong on that. Whichever way things go from here, this superb piece is inarguably one of the most stirring 4th of July paeans to American liberty I’ve ever read.

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This shall not stand!

Posted on July 3, 2024July 3, 2024 by Mike

Aww, what a darn shame.

Lesbian Duo Baffled as to Why Muslim Gang Would Pummel Them. Who Wants to Break the News?
A gang of “Middle Eastern men” beat the potato salad out of a lesbian couple in Halifax, Nova Scotia, leaving the two zamis to wonder why the men would treat the ladies so viciously, especially considering it was during Pride month.

Emma MacLean, one of the women assaulted, posted to Facebook that there were between seven and ten men, all between the ages of 18 and 25 and “believed to be from Syria.”

As some may know, myself and my partner Tori were attacked on Saturday night by a group of 7-10+ middle eastern men, believed to be from Syria, aged 18-25 on Argyle Street in downtown Halifax.

One particular individual, wearing a red shirt with a walking boot, initially made a sexually degrading comment to me. My partner Tori and this man got into a verbal altercation where this individual made several disgusting slurs, some being homophobic. Following this, the 7-10 men attacked me and my partner, throwing several punches and kicks to our faces, ribs, etc.

The outcome of this attack has resulted in a broken nose, chipped tooth, several bruises and lumps on our head, faces, etc. We are extremely thankful that things were not worse.

If anyone has any further information or had witnessed this event, or has personal video footage, I would be extremely grateful if you could share it.

Stay safe and happy pride month.

MacLean would later admit that her girlfriend, Tori, followed the gang after they made homophobic slurs toward the women. That’s when things got spicy.

Tori was pushed to the ground, and that’s when the punches and kicks began to fly.

“I’m terrified to go downtown again in Halifax,” MacLean told CTV news. “I just feel like it’s so out of your control on what could happen. It’s overwhelming. I didn’t expect something like this to happen, especially with it happening during pride month as well.”

Some of us have been saying for a long time now that stupidity ought to be literally, physically painful, and whaddya know: in Nova Scotia at any rate, now it is.

Crank call

Posted on July 2, 2024July 2, 2024 by Mike

Musta been another of them Rooskie hacks, I’m thinking.

Trump Spox Sneaks Onto Collapsing Biden Campaign’s Conference Call
Steven Cheung, a principal Trump campaign spokesman, snuck onto a Biden campaign conference call on Monday. He then took to X to call it “the saddest thing I’ve ever listened to.”

“They have given up,” Cheung wrote.

The Trump spox claimed that he was able to sign up for the conference call using his real name and media credentials, and the free-falling campaign let him in.

Read the rest, it’s just about the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long, long while, the all-time world-champeen of political pranks.

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Sharp as a tack!

Posted on July 1, 2024 by Mike

If this isn’t the next Trump campaign ad, it damned well oughta be.

Genius video here. Joe Biden is sharp as a tack.pic.twitter.com/VomEEVVduR

— Citizen Free Press (@CitizenFreePres)

July 1, 2024

The thing to remember here is, contra what the scum-sucking liars keep insisting, even in his very best years Too Aulde Jaux was NEVER “sharp as a tack.”

(Via Ace)

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Masters-level class in the flaying of obnoxious “journalists”

Posted on June 27, 2024June 28, 2024 by Mike

Today’s Quote of the Week of the Month of the Century comes to us courtesy of Tucker’s savage takedown of an Aussie shitlib “journalist.”

“Come on,” Carlson replied. “How do they get people this stupid in the media? I guess it doesn’t pay well…I don’t mean to call you stupid — maybe you’re just pretending to be.”

Heh. Well done, Mr C. But wait, there’s more. Namely, at 4:07 of this vid, where the stupid, ass-scalded bint hamhandedly badgers Tucker about gun control, kinda-sorta-indirectly defaming Carlson via an ill-advised insinuation that he bears some responsibility for mass shootings. Tucker’s devastating counterbattery cannonade is off-the-charts priceless.

WOW: Liberal journalist calls Tucker racist and accuses him of inspiring mass shootings. pic.twitter.com/mOpFjrwAKP

— Tucker Carlson Network (@TCNetwork)

June 26, 2024

Miss Thang’s dogged self-beclownment calls several quaint old aphorisms to mind: the dog futilely chasing his own tail until he finally drops from sheer exhaustion; the stubborn fool who either will not or can not admit that he/she is licked, wisely opting to simply walk away from a losing battle while he/she is still able to walk rather than having to be hauled off on a stretcher; the sage admonishment to never pick a fight with a much bigger, stronger, and/or more skilled and/or experienced opponent, etc etc.

It only gets worse for smug Down-Under “journalists” from there—deservedly so, I might add—when one of the bint’s imbecilic-droolcase colleagues makes the damnfool mistake of shoving his oar in, only to have Carlson hand him his own empty head for his trouble. This unforced error, mind, after witnessing the total evisceration of his female co-propagandist mere moments before, while it was presumably fresh in his mind (if any).

I hope y’all won’t think it gratuitously cruel of me to speculate on whether these clowns truly are too dumb, too vain, too securely cloistered amongst their own obliviously self-regarding set to grok just how YUUUGE a can of whup-ass a far better, more intellectually lissome, more articulate man than they could ever aspire to be had just opened on their hapless-loser selves.

Several more vidyas at the link, each and every one of which you are one hunnert pa-ssent guaranteed to enjoy enormously, or your money cheerfully refunded at the box office. Tucker was definitely firing on all eight that evening, deftly making mincemeat of a whole passel of credentialed professional dunderheads without ever breaking a sweat. I repeat: WELL done, sir, very well done indeed.

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The Left, eating itself

Posted on June 25, 2024June 25, 2024 by Mike

Questions without answers, problems without solutions.

We’re well into “Pride Month” now – only another twelve or fifteen weeks to go – and, as you know, my advice to the LGBTQWERTY crowd is to enjoy it while you can. Because demography is destiny, and the successor populations imported into the west will not be hot for Pride parades. That process is already underway, and it will intensify. To reiterate:

In the end, it’s all demography… You can change all the boys into girls and all the girls into boys but in the end there aren’t enough of either to alter the outcome. You’re merely arguing about who’ll be using which bathroom on the Oblivion Express.

Or maybe who’ll be waxing which genitals on the Oblivion Express. We used to do trans waxing stories on Rush and elsewhere every so often because, for a while, thanks to the psycho-tranny from hell in British Columbia, there were rather a lot of them. But, if you’re the salon-owner getting scorched, it’s not really funny:

Trans-identified male awarded $35,000 by Ontario court after women’s salon refused to wax ‘her’ balls

By “awarded”, the Court means that the proprietor of the ladies’ salon Mad Wax in Windsor, Ontario will have to pay it to her. His name, delightfully, is Carruthers (not this Carruthers, presumably). The bepenised beauty called up to have her wedding tackle waxed on a day when the attendant in question was …oh, I’m sure you can guess:

The salon employee working that day was a devout Muslim woman who refrained from physical contact with men, and the salon owner told the trans woman that they could not find a way to accommodate her request.

In other words, there is no correct answer to this dilemma. Mr Carruthers could have instructed the devout Muslima to wax the meat-and-two-veg in question and earned himself an entirely different “human rights” complaint or, alternatively, a visit to the bottom of the Detroit River courtesy of her husband and brothers. Like I said, no correct answer; an excess of diversity; what Marx would call the internal contradictions of multiculturalism.

The court in question was the Ontario “Human Rights” Tribunal, where I beat the rap over a decade-and-a-half ago. But time creeps on and the “human rights” judges have now discovered the universal human right to have your testicles depilated by an observant Muslim lady. Try it next time you’re in Riyadh.

Oh, if only they would—every last one of them, by no later than this time tomorrow. If ever there was a problem that solved itself, the “transgender” invasion of Saudi Arabia demanding their “right,” as “women,” to have Moslems depilate their junk for them would have to be an excellent example of one.

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Drivin’ Wheel

Posted on June 24, 2024June 24, 2024 by Mike

Looking around earlier for something else entirely, I stumbled across a great old tune I’d very nearly forgotten about.

That’s the late Robert Gordon performing T-Bone Burnette’s original composition, with Chris Spedding on guitar; the bassist and drummer are unknown to me, I’m afraid. On the Gordon LP this selection is from, the guitarist is the incomparable Danny Gatton, and of course the above vid is interspersed with scenes capably culled from Robert Mitchum’s classic tale of bootlegger derring-do, Thunder Road. Whoever put this video together did one heck of a fine job, if you ask me.

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