Category: Pass The Popcorn!

Let it burn!

“Divorce”?

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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.

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

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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.

The one and only

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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.



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:



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.

The most important American revolutionary figure you never heard of

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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.

Take it back

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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.

This shall not stand!

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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

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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.

Sharp as a tack!

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


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)

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

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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.


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.

The Left, eating itself

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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.

Drivin’ Wheel

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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.

A notable exception

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To the society-wrecking Didn’t Earn It rule.

The Pursuit of Excellence
Amazon’s Blue Angels reminds us that there are still places where excellence is the rule, rather than the exception.

These days, it’s very easy to become disillusioned as an American citizen. Spend any time at all watching what passes for “the news” and it quickly becomes clear that this country is facing an acute crisis of competency. We have Federal Court Justice nominees willing to admit in televised hearings, without shame, that they don’t know the most basic facts about what is in the United States Constitution. We have senior Government officials who can’t keep the ports open or the borders closed. And we are a country where the survival of storied American companies is in jeopardy because they can’t manage to bolt a door onto an airplane properly, successfully market beer, the easiest-to-sell product humans have ever created, or make movies that people actually want to see.

Which is why I think it’s important for every American to watch the new JJ Abrams-produced Amazon documentary THE BLUE ANGELS. It is a fine reminder that there are still institutions in this Nation where the bare minimum standard is excellence, and where perfection is pursued relentlessly, even though it may be an unattainable goal.

There are 141 men and women in the Blue Angels unit, but only 6 of them fly the iconic blue and yellow F-18s. The rest are support staff…everything from the Doctor to the Crew Chiefs who make sure the jets are ready and safe to fly, to the mechanics and the supply officers who load the unit’s gear onto the C-130 Hercules nicknamed “Fat Albert.” These latter are not the stars of the show, but you wouldn’t know it to watch them work. The pride of being part of an elite unit where success depends on everyone…everyone…pursuing excellence in everything they do is evident in the smiles on their faces, the exuberant high-fives and the choreographed celebrations that come with the completion of even the smallest tasks.

Watch the men and women in the unit as they say goodbye to one another at the end of a successful season and you’ll see what being a part of an institution where excellence is the minimum acceptable standard does to the human spirit. Everyone, from the “Boss” to the most junior supply officer seems to radiate joy.

In The Blue Angels, we see a world where corrosive concepts like Diversity Equity and Inclusion (DEI) have not been able to gain a foothold, because they are unnecessary. Institutions like The Blue Angels, where the only thing that stands between the pilots and death is everyone on the team performing at the absolute top of their game, don’t need DEI because when you take only the very best, you wind up with a team that “looks like America.” Because that’s what America is and that’s who Americans are.

DEI would destroy the Blue Angels because it creates distrust, that is its very nature. And as the Blue Angels’ Commander points out during a segment on crew selection, when you’re flying a cluster of fighter aircraft at near supersonic speeds only twelve inches apart, no one cares about gender or skin color…they only care about two things…“are you the best?” and “can I trust you?”

As you look at the Blue Angels crew you quickly notice that men and women of color are, if anything, over-represented relative to their raw population numbers. It’s tempting to conclude that this is what happens to “marginalized” populations when you raise standards and expectations, rather than lower them. To take it a step further, it may be that within this small microcosm of military readiness are the solutions to many of the worst problems currently plauging our culture.

“Tempting to conclude etc,” is it? That’s a whale of a dodge, seems to me, and a damned dangerous one too; it’s as obvious as it is inescapable, more like, a hard-nosed reality that shitlib imbeciles have spent many years laboring to ignore, denigrate, and supplant in favor of the very PC gibberish that has been the ruination of this once-great nation.

My dear departed Naval-aviator cousin Reggie, who used to post here back in the day as Cuz Regbo, traveled with the Blues for several months trying to decide whether to accept their offer to join. Eventually he declined, opting instead for a stint at the Naval War College. Not that Reg didn’t have tremendous respect for the Blue Angels team, of course; he did. He just felt that the War College would be a better move strictly in terms of career advancement. As I told him then, just being invited to try out at all for the Blues was an achievement of the highest imaginable order.

Reggie’s choice to put career advancement over the powerfully alluring pleasures of one more year of cutting-edge jet-jockeying would soon prove to be the right one, as fate would have it. He was already closing in on the age-out point of his fighter-flying days anyway, he knew. Meanwhile, his Master’s-level course of instruction in

  • How to drink continuously at parties, for hours, without losing your composure, your politesse, your above-the-fray dignity and suavete, and your basic power of coherent speech
  • How to schmooze courteously with contemptible, toadying, diplo-dink rumpswabs to whom you ordinarily wouldn’t lower yourself to even speak
  • Which fancy-schmancy fork goes on which side of the fancy-schmancy plate, and why you absolutely MUST pretend it matters
  • The proper care, arranging, and wearing of the US Navy Formal Dress Uniform (Officer, Male), as specified by the CNO
  • Sundry other arcane intricacies of life as a fully-functioning US Embassy überweenie

led to plum appointments first as Assistant Naval Attaché to France, then as Naval Attaché to Argentina—where poor Regbo wound up dying much too young of a massive heart attack whilst driving in to work at the Embassy there—heart attacks long having been the bane of all Carpenters and Painters, tragically enough. His immediate family still misses that boy terribly, as do his colleagues, as do I myself.

Anyhoo, as Stephen notes, “Demand excellence and you’ll get it.” True, dat. As is my corollary: settle for less, and you…won’t. The past few years have provided proof aplenty of that proposition—all anybody ought to need and then some, I should think.

Update! What the hey, here’s a pic of me and Regbo in happier days, at an airshow he flew a demo in.

Got no idea why we picked that particular F18 to pose in front of, it ain’t Reggie’s plane—the one with Regbo’s handle stenciled under the canopy was parked up nearby, if I remember right. Guess we were just too damned lazy to shag our tired asses over there for the photo. The cap I have on was a gift from Reg which I still wear all the time to this very day, featuring the logo and artwork of the squadron Reg commanded: Strike Fighter Squadron VFA83, the Rampagers. You oughta see that poor, battered old Rampager hat today, I’ve wore that thing slap out.

A rowdy, a rakehell, a fun-loving, happy-go-lucky rapscallion his entire life long, that was CAPT Reggie P Carpenter. Still can hardly believe he’s gone, bless his soul.

Happy Jumeteemf, yo!

Posted on      by     

Arthur observes our newest made-up Nee-grow “holiday,” celebrated in accordance with the ancient traditions.

Like The Sun Rising In The East
It (is) the weekend before Juneteenth, a celebration of White people letting slaves go free and then watching the descendants of those freed slaves royally fuck up the country White people built. Since the inception of Juneteenth as a new Federal holiday in an attempt to placate blacks so they would stop burning down cities, there have been plenty of mass shootings accompanying the “holiday”. We have already had our first of 2024…

So, the big “pawdy” went exactly as one would expect, then.

A meme out of place and time

Posted on      by     

At first I planned to hang onto this one for use in the regularly-scheduled meme post either here or over at the Eyrie, but decided it was just too damned funny to resist giving it its own spot tonight.

See, I just KNEW them darn ((((Jooz!!!)))) had to be good for something.

God bless ’em, every one

Posted on      by     

Taking matters into their own hands at the ol’ ball game.


What a beautiful moment, when those players scampered back out of the home-side dugout (I’m assuming; that’s the usual arrangement, but not necessarily everywhere) to line up along the first base-line again. One has to wonder, though, what the hell the visiting team was waiting for.

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CF Glossary

ProPol: Professional Politician

Vichy GOPe: Putative "Republicans" who talk a great game but never can seem to find a hill they consider worth dying on; Quislings, Petains, Benedicts, backstabbers, fake phony frauds

Fake Phony Fraud(s), S'faccim: two excellent descriptors coined by the late great WABC host Bob Grant which are interchangeable, both meaning as they do pretty much the same thing

Mordor On The Potomac: Washington, DC

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