Never too old to rock and roll

Divemedic recounts the incredible story of a bona fide American hero—a valiant and doughty warrior I’ve written about here myself. DM includes some aspects of the story, most notably a memorable quote, that I hadn’t heard before.

There are so many times that I have heard people, including myself, say that we are getting too old for the conflicts that are to come. It’s easy to think that the trials that we all see as inevitable are for young men, and let’s face it, many of us cannot consider ourselves to be young any longer. So let’s take comfort in the story of Samuel Whittemore.

Comfort? I hardly see it as comforting. Confers a YUGE burden of responsibility, and imposes a very real debt of awestruck gratitude, more like. At the very least, Whittemore’s story is enormously humbling for any present-day Real American with half a lick of sense and a knowledge of US history.

Anyways. Onwards.

Samuel was not a young man when he enlisted in the Third Massachusetts Regiment and fought the French in Canada. He was 49 years old when he killed a French officer and took his sword as a war trophy.

Mr. Whittemore wasn’t done. He fought again against Chief Pontiac in the Great Lakes region at 67 years old as he led troops against the French and Indians. During that conflict, he took a pair of dueling pistols as war trophies.

For the next decade or so, he became a respected leader in the civic arena. He lobbied against the government, speaking out and being a general pain in the ass. He protested the government’s actions, complaining about this and that, went to meetings of government, and represented his town as a member of the Committee of Correspondence. That was how it came to be that, in 1772, Whittemore was one of the three contributors to Cambridge, Massachusetts’ statement in objection to the Tea Act:

If we cease to assert Our rights we shall dwindle into supineness and the chains of slavery shall be fast rivetted upon us 

Then came the day when Samuel Whittemore’s family found him in his farm’s field, lying in a pool of blood, and even the town’s doctor didn’t believe that he would survive. British soldiers had left Samuel Whittemore in a pool of blood alongside a stone wall in Menotomy, Mass. after shooting the old farmer in the face, then bayoneted him at least six times and clubbed him, apparently, to death as they retreated from the skirmish at Lexington and Concord on April 19, 1775. Samuel was 78 years old.

Located near him were the bodies of three British soldiers: one shot by a musket, another by a dueling pistol, and a third run through with an ornate French sword.

Samuel survived that day, against all odds, and lived to the ripe old age of 96. He is currently buried in Arlington, Massachusetts.

This is the reason why we stand for the National Anthem, to honor men such as this.

Indubitably so. It’s to our everlasting disgrace that, were you to ask any random “American” schoolkid nowadays, he/she/its/zhir/zhimz would have no idea who Samuel Whittemore even was. Hell, he/she/its/zhir/zhimz parents wouldn’t know either. I very much doubt whether their teachers would.

As Founding Father Patrick Henry so unforgettably implored the flock at St John’s Church in Richmond:

Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves. Sir, we have done everything that could be done, to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne. In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free, if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending, if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained, we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the God of Hosts is all that is left us!

They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance, by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power.

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!

Amen. May we all draw strength from history, from the deeds of our glorious forebears; may we resolve to live up to their illustrious example. May the memory of that history, that example, never fade from our hearts and minds. In awakening Real Americans from their long, torporous slumber, Leftards know not what they have done. Let them reap the whirlwind, then, in fullest possible measure.

6

Another Righteous Shoot

Fucked around. Found out. Exactly as he damned well deserved to.


Divemedic says it for me.

I have heard the complaints that the guy shouldn’t have shot him when he was leaving, and you know what? I don’t give a shit. If the cops and courts won’t protect their citizens, the citizens eventually will.

Precisely so. I’m not so sure the soon-to-be-ventilated perp actually was leaving. He walked back around the counter, but he wasn’t moving in the direction of the door; probably looking around to see what else in the store might be worth stealing, seems to me.

“Shouldn’t have shot him”? Like bleedin’ hell. What shouldn’t have happened was, the predatory Gibmedat shouldn’t have robbed the guy in the first place, that’s what. Had he not chosen to commit armed robbery and ADW, thereby putting an innocent man in fear for his life, then he wouldn’t have gotten his sorry ass shot. That’s all on Sh’Quan’zellaramalamadingdong, and absolutely nobody else.

Be sure to stick with it for the happy ending; the footage of the worthless parasite writhing in pain on the sidewalk, bleeding profusely, is worth the price of admission all by itself.

13
1

Fox augers in

They unceremoniously dump the biggest star the network ever had, and now they’re surprised at the outrage that bonehead maneuver generated?

Back there in the 1960’s golden era of rock and roll, (from 1966 to 1968) a group known as Buffalo Springfield dominated the air waves for a rock moment. Their big 1967 hit was titled “For What It’s Worth.” And its lyrics included these memorable lines:

There’s something happening here

But what it is ain’t exactly clear 

…Paranoia strikes deep

 Into your life it will creep 

It starts when you’re always afraid

Step out of line, the man come and take you away…

The lyrics came to mind this week in watching Fox reel from the backlash of the company’s “parting ways” with host Tucker Carlson. (And full disclosure, I am a Newsmax contributor.)

And speaking of Newsmax? The network has not been shy in reporting its 8 p.m. audience nearly doubled Monday, reaching 531,000 viewers, based on Nielsen figures. The following night, the number rose to an average 562,000 viewers, a five-fold increase from the previous week.

By contrast, the Tucker hour’s ratings at Fox plummeted, from 2.59 million on Monday (when his departure was formally announced) to 1.7 million on Tuesday and 1.3 million on Wednesday.

Not to put too fine a point on this, but Tucker himself has released his own two-minute video statement on Twitter. In less than 24 hours the video had brought in over 60 million views. Yow.

One can only wonder, as many have, why in the world Fox would shut down its number one host. Tucker Carlson is a very popular conservative and a decidedly smart guy as well. All of which has been evident on his nightly show, and all of which his audience both understands and loves.

Not to mention another popular host, Dan Bongino, has also vanished from Fox.

So why in the world would Fox do this?

At this point, I imagine a good few of the Fox higher-ups are wondering the same thing.

Okay, okay, I admit it—my main motivation for posting this is the excuse it affords me to put up that great old Buffalo Springfield tune.

With a glowingly-affectionate intro by Monkee-man Peter Tork, no less. What can one say but: COOOOOOOOL.

Update! For those younger readers who somehow wandered in here by mistake and who aren’t old enough to know anything about Buffalo Springfield (for SHAME), here’s some background info.

Buffalo Springfield was a rock band formed in Los Angeles by Canadian musicians Neil Young, Bruce Palmer and Dewey Martin and American musicians Stephen Stills and Richie Furay. The group, widely known for the song “For What It’s Worth”, released three albums and several singles from 1966 to 1968. Their music combined elements of folk music and country music with British Invasion and psychedelic rock influences. Like contemporary band the Byrds, they were key to the early development of folk rock. The band took their name from a steamroller parked outside their house.

Buffalo Springfield formed in Los Angeles in 1966 with Stills (guitar, keyboards, vocals), Martin (drums, vocals), Palmer (bass guitar), Furay (guitar, vocals) and Young (guitar, harmonica, piano, vocals). The band signed to Atlantic Records in 1966 and released their debut single “Nowadays Clancy Can’t Even Sing”, which became a hit in Los Angeles. The following January, they released the protest song “For What It’s Worth”, which became their only US top 10 hit and a counterculture anthem. Their second album, Buffalo Springfield Again, marked their progression to psychedelia and hard rock and featured other well-known songs such as “Bluebird” and “Mr. Soul”.

After several drug-related arrests and line-up changes, the group disbanded in 1968.

For all intents and purposes, Springfield was one of the earliest examples of what later on came to be referred to in the rock world as a “supergroup,” even though Young, Stills, Messina, et al weren’t all that well known at the time. This next is a bit of trivia for the ages:

While in Toronto in early 1966, Young met Bruce Palmer, a Canadian who was playing bass for the Mynah Birds. In need of a lead guitarist, Palmer invited Young to join the group, and Young accepted. The Mynah Birds were set to record an album for Motown Records when their singer Ricky James Matthews—James Ambrose Johnson, Jr., later known as Rick James—was tracked down and arrested by the U.S. Navy for being AWOL.

ZOMG! Okay, I never knew that myself. It calls for a CELEBRATION, BITCHES!

Heh. Don’t hate me ’cause I’m beautiful, y’all.

2

Tales from the tour bus

Commenting on last night’s Junior Brown post, Skeptic said:

I’ve been fortunate enough to see Junior, the Reverend, and Big Sandy live (although not on the same bill). Great entertainers all.

Indeed they are, and excepting Brown, who I’ve never met, just really great guys as well. So I began my response to Skeptic thusly:

Man, Big Sandy (Robert Williams, actually, as you probably know), in addition to being enormously talented, is without doubt one of the sweetest, nicest human beings I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing. When my wife was killed, he was one of the very first to call me. He had been friends with both her and her mom since way before I’d met them myself, and you could easily tell he was just heartbroken over it. I’ve never forgotten that act of kindness and open-hearted generosity, and I never will.

First time I ever did a show with him was out in LA, at Ronnie Mack’s Barn Dance. There was just all kinds of big rockabilly names on the bill that night; hell, even Brian Setzer showed up to make a surprise appearance to close out the evening. While Brian was on, me, James Intveld, Sandy, and a handful of others were brought onstage with him as well.

I got that far in, and that’s when it hit me: this story is just too damned good to let it languish in comment-section obscurity, it really merits a main-page post of its own. So here’s the rest of it, blockquoted just becuz.

Brian called out for us to do Eddie Cochran’s “Summertime Blues” to end the set, which the backing band launched into. Setzer sang the first verse, then frantically waved all his fellow frontmen into a midstage huddle before going on with the song–he had forgotten the rest of the lyrics, and wanted to know if any of the rest of us knew ’em!

Naturally, being under pressure like that, smack in the middle of actually PLAYING the song in front of a packed house, the spots circling us like hungry sharks, every damned one of us immediately lapsed into a total brain fart, failing to come up with so much as a single syllable of the blood-simple lyrics to one of the hoariest old RaB chestnuts known to man.

I mean, really, now. “Summertime Blues”? Hell, plenty of people who wouldn’t know rockabilly from Adam’s housecat probably know the words to that song! KNEW them? Of course we knew them! We’d all played and sung the blasted thing a million and one times; every one of us was a professional player, with years of onstage experience under our belts, so stage fright couldn’t have been an issue.

But still—there we all were, drawing a total blank, as the backing musicians went right on endlessly repeating the lead-in to the second verse whilst darting looks of confusion, wonderment, and dismay at our little stage-front conference as we all went right on NOT stepping up to the center mic to take charge and get the stalled-out show moving again.

Finally, I did so myself, just repeating the first verse Brian had already sung in hopes that it might jar something loose in my bourbon-addled brain which would bring the rest back to me again. But it’s what happened right before then that still makes me laugh to this very day.

See, Big Sandy was absolutely high-school drunk at that point, drunk as a boiled owl—or, as my friend Joe used to say, fucked up as a nine-eyed nigger. The guy had this goofy, vacant grin smeared loosely all over his slaphappy mug, the look of a man totally at peace with the entire world, delighted to be where he was in that golden moment—wherethehellever THAT might have been.

One of the other players, can’t remember who, nodded me over to where he was struggling to hold Sandy more or less upright by his right arm, in an unmistakable plea for assistance—Sandy is a big, heavy dude, see, and whoever-it-was, well…wasn’t.

So I got myself over there straightaway, latched onto Sandy’s free left arm, and our two-man rescue squad proceeded to walk/stagger/drag our cheerfully-inebriated charge over to the area of the stage known amongst showbiz types as the backline—ie, the row of guitar/bass amps and drum kit prepositioned for all the night’s bands to use, standard practice when a big venue has an unusually large number of groups booked, so as to shorten the time needed to break down the stage and set up for the next act.

And the backline is where we dumped Sandy, gently lowering him to sit atop a tweed Fender Bassman amp, his back against the rear stage wall. He was a sight: that same smile on his face, tapping both feet to the music, his body precariously swaying, a bottle of Heineken clutched tightly in each hand. Years later, I asked him if he remembered that auspicious evening, to which he replied, “YES! Ummm, maybe. Well, okay, parts of it.”

Too, too funny. I told him if he ever needed help remembering any of the more lurid details, I’d be glad to remind him, because I was never gonna forget it. We both laughed, and then headed on back to the bar.

Big Sandy was by no means the only one deep in his cups that night, mind; it was also the night I hung out after the show with a cripplingly-blasted Janeane Garofalo, which I told all about here. An auspicious occasion indeed, all the way ‘round.

Update! Added a green-room pic from after the Horton’s Holiday Hayride show to the Junior Brown post, in case any of y’all might be interested in such piffling trivialities.

1

Fox News commits hara-kiri!

The end of an era, and a network. From America’s most reliable news source:

Fox News Fires The Only Reason People Watch Fox News
NEW YORK, NY — After months of controversy, Fox News has decided to part ways with the only reason anyone watches Fox News.

“Yes, we realize he delivered the most successful cable news program of all time, but we felt embarrassed by him at our Manhatten cocktail parties,” said Fox News CEO Suzanne Scott. “When we tried to get invited to fancy, sophisticated gatherings, people said: ‘Ewwww, aren’t you the Tucker Carlson people?’ and that made us feel sad. Curse you, Tucker, for making us feel sad!”

When reached for a reaction, Tucker simply stared dumbfoundedly at our reporter for several minutes.

Industry experts believe there are other factors that contributed to the alleged firing, including the fact that the company is too broke to pay him after settling a lawsuit with Dominion Voting Systems.

Progressives are reportedly overjoyed by the move, although many are saying Fox didn’t go far enough by not killing Carlson in addition to firing him. “You mean he’s still alive?” said Congresswoman AOC. “Tucker being alive is fascism!”

At publishing time, producers were seen looking through files for another hot blonde to replace him with.

The Bee, of course, establishing a new record for how close their satire can come to actual reality: Tucker is indeed gone, although no one really seems to know why, or is admitting to it at least. Glenn sums up the rampant speculation out there:

Rumors have swirled that he was looking to leave since they stopped him airing more January 6 video after just a couple of nights, but I don’t know if that’s why he’s leaving or not.

The stock’s falling, leading an acquaintance to comment “$800m settlement for the vote fraud stuff with Dominion, and FOX just zapped $1bil from its market cap in the last 10 min.”

I wonder if Tucker will go to Newsmax or somewhere, or whether he’ll start his own Rumble program.

UPDATE: Lots of speculation that it involved the Dominion settlement, too. Maybe so. And Jim Bennett writes: “I wonder if Fox was getting significant pushback from the part of its viewership that were appalled by his stand on Ukraine. Most Americans of Eastern European descent are conservative, many of those I know are strongly pro-Ukrainian. And many were Fox viewers.” I dunno. I doubt that would be enough to end such a profitable association, but it may have been a factor.

Could be, who knows. Most likely, it will all come out eventually, as tends to happens with these things. But one thing we can be sure about: whatever the reason(s) behind it may have been, Fox News will be going the way of the dodo. Or does anyone out there think the moronic Sean Hannity can carry them on his strong, broad shoulders…?

Update! Apparently, t’was Rupert Murdoch himself who slew the Fox beast.

Tucker Carlson departs Fox News, pushed out by Rupert Murdoch
“Fox News Media and Tucker Carlson have agreed to part ways,” the network said in a statement. “We thank him for his service to the network as a host and prior to that as a contributor.”

A Fox News representative had no other details on Carlson’s exit. People familiar with the situation who were not authorized to comment publicly said the decision to fire Carlson came straight from Fox Corp. Chairman Rupert Murdoch.

Carlson’s exit is related to the discrimination lawsuit filed by Abby Grossberg, the producer fired by the network last month, the people said. Carlson’s senior executive producer Justin Wells has also been terminated, according to people familiar with the matter. A Fox News representative would not comment.

Murdoch is also said to be concerned over Carlson’s coverage of the Jan. 6, 2021, insurrection at the U.S. Capitol, in which the host has promoted the conspiracy theory simple, obvious fact, confirmed in several different ways, that it was provoked by government agents.

ADMISSION: I may have adjusted that last line slightly, in the interests of truth and accuracy. Be all that as it may, Ace administers the last rites.

Goodbye, Fox. You will die alone and unloved and unremembered.

Indeed so. In a conversation with my brother just now, we were speculating on a possibility I’d consider the most awesome denouement imaginable: Elon Musk and Tucker are even now on the phone hammering out the details of their new entry into the TeeWee news game, which will be called the Foxecutioner network.

Updated update! Ace’s post also includes the verified, 100% for-real video of Tucker’s final farewell to FNC:


What can one say but: heh. Indeed.

Making them live their “truth”

Anything goes.


As do I. I mean, really, what could possibly be more fair? T’was toxic feminism created this voracious, all-consuming beast; now, let them live with it—cheek by jowl, in the house they themselves built for the rest of us, until they’re sick unto death of being forced to keep close-quarters company with the stinking, grotesque thing.

 GP also has a copy of Shepherd’s application to compete as a wyrmynnzzz, wherein zhirm hilariously declares “I identify as a woman for this contest.” Naturally, the weightlifting Powers That Be are pissing all over themselves trying to find a way to short-circuit the jolt of high-voltage reality being hurled their way by the Zeus-like Ms Shepherd.

According to the Reduxx report, the Global Powerlifting Committee of New Zealand (GPCNZ) appears to be scrambling to keep Shepherd out of the competition — even going so far as to change their rule book to say that he is ineligible.

The report points out that in their 2023 Rulebook, the Global Powerlifting Committee of New Zealand (GPCNZ) recognizes self-declared gender identity. In a section of the guidelines titled “Transgender Athletes,” GPCNZ states that “gender is presented on a spectrum” and that the organization “respects the autonomy of the individual and how they identify.”

“An archived version of the official website dated March 30 does not display the GPCNZ rules for trans-identifying competitors, instead leaning heavily on self-identification,” the report explains. “But, after submitting his application and declaring himself a ‘woman’ for the purposes of the competition, Shepherd was hastily sent an email and told he was not allowed to self-identify as transgender and must have been on estrogen for at least one year to compete.”

Shepherd is challenging their decision to exclude him.

You go, girl ummm, boy ummm, Manwoman ummm, whatever.

The ever-unpopular Ron DeSantis

Looks like maybe Uniparty DC didn’t care for the cut of his jib.

D.C. Uniparty declares DeSantis Man Bad
“We don’t like his personality!” they seethe.

The Uniparty corporate media machine is launching a new series of attacks against Florida’s governor, after recent polls show that he may present the greatest threat to a second Biden term at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. 

During his time in Congress, Governor Ron DeSantis didn’t go out of his way to befriend Washington, D.C. Swamp Creatures, and unsurprisingly, that means he doesn’t have glowing reviews within The Swamp. 

There appears to be a coordinated line of attacks going after the governor’s personality, which serves as an attempted distraction from his overwhelmingly supported record in office.

On Friday, D.C. establishment website Politico ran with the headline: “How to lose friends and alienate people, by Ron DeSantis.”

In the piece, former Swamp Creature rep Dave Trott (R-MI), who maintained a 49% (F) Heritage Action voting record, ranted to the corporate press that DeSantis does not like to schmooze with fellow lawmakers and their corporate lobbyist friends. Trott was infuriated by the fact that DeSantis did not appear interested in spending the time to get to intimately get to know the Washington, D.C. Beltway class.

On Thursday, The New York Times, a far-left blog based in Manhattan, ran a piece with similar themes.

Lots of recent stories have criticized DeSantis as too introverted, unwilling to talk to corporate media reporters, and uninterested in fashion. This Florida Man has the chutzpah to both ignore them and not care about what they think. The audacity!

Well, good, fine by me. All the more reason for Da Guv to stay where’s at, in Tallahassee, where he’s actually been able to do some good. And despite all the ongoing whoopjamboreehoo about an “imminent” announcement that he’s throwing his hat into the 2024 ring circle-jerk, I note once again, with great relief, that DeSantis still has yet to utter Word One about any such.

Keep it up exactly the way you’ve been doing, Ron. Let them fill your campaign war-chest with their money, sure. Let them blibber, babble, and “speculate” all they like. Let them wriggle, weasel, shuck and jive. Let them carry on with all the usual maneuvering and manipulation. But don’t let yourself be seduced by them, I beseech you. For many of us who support you fully and firmly now, that would be a deal-breaker for sure.

As FLA gov, DeSantis has accomplished many good and worthwhile things, taking the Culture War battle to The Enemy in a way that only a governor can. As president, he won’t be allowed to accomplish a gott-damned thing; assuredly, TPTB will see to that. So let them have it then, and straight to hell with them all. Lay down with such as they, and all any putative dissident will ever get up with is the blasted fleas.

If there ever is to be a genuine political counterrevolution, it must be launched from the State Houses, not the White House. In the end, even a man possessed of as gargantuan, as overwhelming a personality as Trump’s still couldn’t get it done, except as a strictly temporary thing. So why would any more modest soul even bother trying? Better to play a winnable game than to wastefully expend time and effort on a futile, preemptively-rigged one.

If you rob it, it will close

Lying in the bed Shitcongoans made for themselves.

Watch: Chicago residents complain about Walmart leaving their neighborhoods, say they “deserve to be able to shop” at stores they’ve repeatedly looted
Today, citizens of the leftist utopia of Chiraq are surprised that private businesses would pull out of their crime-ridden neighborhoods!

These dummies act like it’s a guaranteed right to have a Walmart in their neighborhood, even though said Walmarts have been losing “tens of millions” annually because of theft, taxes, vandalism, and other losses.

“How do I feed my children?”

I dunno, my man, buy some chickens and sow some seeds like humans did for thousands of years before Sam Walton perfected big-box distribution and spent the money to build stores in your city?

Really, what can one say but BWAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

“We should not have to go out of our communities to have to be able to shop! … We deserve to be able to shop!”

Yes, my man, this is true. In any civilized nation or city, these should be basic things you can do, because people like to make money and are more than happy to make it convenient for you to spend it.

But there’s a reason there are no Walmarts in Darfur or Fallujah.

Stores there would probably be safer, and a better bet all around for WalMart and its employees alike than Shitcongo. Follows, a passel of vids featuring the damage and destruction wrought by the selfsame Looter Americans who are now bitching about Wally World daring to starve their dumb-nigger asses out by closing the stores they themselves wantonly trashed.

Hey, I have an idea for feral Shitcongo Dindus who will be denied their daily calories by those cruel WalMart RAYCISSNSHEEIT: cannibalism. Try it, you might like it!

Via Bayou Pete—who, happily, is back from his weekend hiatus and in fine fettle:

Residents of Chicago, Portland, Seattle, and other cities where the mob has become accustomed to stealing what they like, when they like, and getting away with it, are now discovering the consequences of allowing that to happen. What store can afford to stay in business when every day that it does so costs it more money than it makes? (Not to mention the consequences to its staff, who are imperiled by criminal thugs and looters!)

The trouble is, those who’ve grown used to taking what they want aren’t going to mend their ways when their local stores shut down. No – they’re going to spread their net wider, and try to do the same in more distant suburbs and neighboring towns. I don’t foresee much of a problem with that in my area: our cops (and the vast majority of our citizens) will have no trouble stopping such miscreants in their tracks (if necessary, the hard way). However, in many larger cities it’s going to be a problem. Public transport is more or less available, cars can be stolen or hijacked at gunpoint for a quick ride, and fresh loot isn’t far away; and police are so overloaded (not to mention underfunded) that they can’t deal with the crimes they’ve got right now, never mind increased shoplifting and looting in future.

As Peter suggests about his own locality, I’d certainly love to see them try it around these parts. Which isn’t terribly likely; they know already what the end result of that would be here in South Cackalacky, I’d bet.

Update! The NYT shits bed, buries lede, confirms things they’d rather not be confirmed.

327 who are above the law
The New York Times story did not say what its editors and their flying monkeys thought it said.

The headline said, “A Tiny Number of Shoplifters Commit Thousands of New York City Thefts.”

OK, you don’t need a J-school degree to figure out the message sent. Not everyone in NYC is boosting $4,500 Louis Vuitton purses. It is just a few people. Whew. What a relief to know this.

The subheadline said, “Nearly a third of all shoplifting arrests in the city last year involved just 327 people, the police said. Businesses say they have little defense.”

You see? The looting is by just a few people.

The story said, “Collectively, they were arrested and rearrested more than 6,000 times, Police Commissioner Keechant Sewell said. Some engage in shoplifting as a trade, while others are driven by addiction or mental illness; the police did not identify the 327 people in the analysis.”

The story, however, is you can rob stores dozens of times and get away with it. My question is why don’t more people in NYC just rob stores blind every day? I mean, come on people. If 327 people can get caught 6,000 times and get away with it, what is stopping 8 million people from looting Tiffany’s every morning and Macy’s every afternoon.

Maybe they are. Who knows how many New Yorkers steal and how many times they get away with it because the 327 people were just the ones the police caught. And the 6,000 arrests are just the times the 327 got caught.

Once again, NYT staffers throw a bunch of numbers around at random. You really cannot say, “A Tiny Number of Shoplifters Commit Thousands of New York City Thefts,” because the numbers reflect arrests, not crimes. And of course, there is the whole innocent-until-proven guilty thing that NYT conveniently forgets from time to time. So you cannot say commit.

NYT argued that stealing $4,500 Louis Vuitton purses is a crime of necessity. Its report said, “Criminal justice reform advocates have said that petty thefts are a crime of necessity, and that many down-on-their-luck New Yorkers are stealing what they need to survive in one of the world’s most expensive cities.”

And NYT also argued, “Retailers have pointed to shoplifting as a drag on profits for decades.”

Once again, the criminal is the victim. How dare the stores make profits!

Years ago, I remember a Charlotte-cop friend of mine telling me that CPD could end crime in CLT overnight, just by arresting the 1500 or so people responsible for almost all of it without some shitlib Turn ‘Em Loose Bruce judge springing them all the next morning. Yes, that’s CLT and NYC, but does anybody want to seriously argue that a like pattern doesn’t obtain in Shitcongo as well?

7

Memezapoppin’!

Spencer justly lauds Twatter über-mememeister Carpe Donktum for some truly outstanding work.

Twitter Memester Carpe Donktum Mocks the Trans Cult, and It’s Riotous
Carpe Donktum calls himself an “Eternally Sarcastic Memesmith,” and his eternally sarcastic memes have earned him over 335,000 followers on Twitter, as well as the undying wrath of the authoritarian Left: his pro-Trump memes were so effective that he was banned from Twitter in June 2020, at the height of Trump’s reelection campaign, and only reinstated when Elon Musk took over. Over the last few days, he has begun calling attention to the transgender cult’s grooming of the youngest children in schools in a particularly piquant — and riotous — way.

It all started on Thursday, when Carpe Donktum tweeted: “As a 3rd grade teacher, I often talk about Jesus with my students, they are so excited to hear about my faith. They point to the cross on [the] wall and ask me about the resurrection. Some have gotten baptized in the sink, as long as they don’t tell their parents. It’s our secret.” This tweet now has 3.7 million views. It was an obvious send-up of primary school teachers who push transgenderism on their students and keep it all secret from their parents, and just in case anyone didn’t get it, Donktum drove the point home in a series of follow-up tweets.

“I hope this doesn’t get me fired, please don’t share this to [sic] libs,” he added, and then: “want you guys to understand something, I am NOT grooming these young apostles, THEY COME TO ME and I follow their questions back to it’s [sic] source These kids feel something is not right inside them and I help them to understand that Jesus is what they are missing in their life.”

Warming to his topic, Carpe kept going: “These kids are so excited about their new spiritual identity that they devote every moment to studying the Bible. But sometimes, they lack the focus, in those cases the school nurse prescribes distraction blockers to help complete the transformation. Don’t tell mom and dad tho.” He took the opportunity to push other Leftist buttons as well: “One of my fondest memories from last year was when Taleb made his transformation from Islam to Christ. To celebrate his new identity we had a pizza party with his new favorite topping, Canadian bacon. Sometimes, I buy him a hotdog at lunch, since he can’t have them at home.”

Heh. Good, tasty schtuff indeed, more of which is perusable at the link. CD’s ingenious turning of the Trannylib tables has inspired me to throw in another similarly-inclined slice of brilliance, from Matt Margolis:

MargolisTransMeme

Heh again. That one’s culled from Matt’s Meme-manic Monday Substack post, the rest of which can be viewed—and really, really should be—at the immediately-preceding link. I’d suggest y’all subscribe to the Margolis thang like I already done dood a while back, so’s you can regularly enjoy more good stuff from the comfort and safety of your own email inbox as and when. But if you haven’t signed up for The Eyrie yet, then don’t you dare, you rotten bastige.

3

Headless body in topless bar

The backstory of “the most anatomically evocative headline in the history of American journalism.“

This month marks the 40th anniversary of a watershed moment in journalism: the publication of the “Headless Body in Topless Bar” headline on the front page of the New York Post.

Headlines sell newspapers — at least, they sell the print newspapers offered via those relics known as newsstands. In 1983, almost all of the 965,000 daily newspapers that rolled out of the Post’s building in Lower Manhattan were sold on newsstands.

No one on the Post’s news desk debated the news value of the story: A Brooklyn man named Charles Dingle shot Queens bar owner Herbert Cummings to death and held patrons hostage. When Dingle learned that one was a mortician, he ordered her to behead the victim. Dingle, a box containing the head next to him, was arrested in an unlicensed cab in Manhattan. (Dingle died in prison in 2012, according to New York state records.)

The New York Times also covered the story, stuffing it on Page 2 of the Metropolitan section under the headline, “Owner of a Bar Shot to Death; Suspect Is Held.”

There would have been no Post headline without the gory story. Reporter Jim Norman wrote in a 2012 recollection that the police teletype in the newsroom had two items — one about the discovery in Manhattan of a cardboard box containing a head and the other about the discovery in a Queens bar of a mutilated torso. Norman said he helped to connect the dots as the “headless body” angle riveted the newsroom.

The headline went viral, by 20th-century standards. (then-NYPost managing editor Vincent) Musetto was on David Letterman’s show. It also was the title of a black comedy in the mid-1990s.

In this digital age, when search engine optimization rewards literal headlines and punishes wordplay, “Headless Body in Topless Bar” could perform well online. Was it too over the top? When veteran editor Steve Dunleavy heard criticism at the time, he supposedly replied, “What should we have said? Decapitated cerebellum in tavern of ill repute?”

Musetto always said his favorite headline was “Granny Executed in Her Pink Pajamas” over the 1984 story about the execution of Margie Velma Barfield, who killed her husband in North Carolina. (Musetto seemed to get all the good stories. My own favorite from my year at the Post was “Art thieves take the Monet and run.”)

Heh. Good stuff, that is, from a lost era before the qualities of wry, frisky humor; convention-straining wordplay; hard-boiled iconoclasm; and an above-all-else dedication to Getting The Story encoded in the DNA of crusty, old-school reporters with the de rigeur pint of whiskey tucked away in the bottom desk drawer had all been exorcised in favor of today’s fear-mongering; obeisance to Big Government and the urgenturgentURGENT!!! blandishments of “experts”; and lickspittle fealty to the PC/Woke/Hard Left agenda entire—a noxious hell-brew that poisoned bona-fide American journalism as it had previously been known fatally, and for all time.

Back in the 90s when I was living in NYC, the Post was the only daily I cared much about purchasing and perusing. NY Newsday plainly and simply sucked, on those occasions when it wasn’t infuriating; then again, it was an offshoot of Long Island-centric Newsday, and what sophisticated, urbane Manhattanite such as moi cared a whit about what those yokels might get themselves up to way out there in the boonies, anyway?

The WSJ was meh, boring, and still is. The Old Grey Whore (a/k/a the NYT) had nearly completed her long, slow slide into total hyperpartisan irrelevance and rank dishonesty; the NY Daily News was middle-of-the-road bland, making it a small cut above the rest of the shitlib propaganda broadsheets.

Later, 2002 would see a short-lived stab at reviving the old NY Sun, but despite the sly, self-deprecating insider-witticism of being printed on piss-yellow paper early on (because yellow journalism, get it?), the Sun failed to distinguish itself otherwise and thus quickly died the death, at least in its print version. Maybe it was good, who knows; although I was still spending a lot of my time in NYC, I still can’t remember ever even reading the thing, honestly.

As for the rest of NYC’s then-crowded field of news outlets: weekly radical-Left alternarag The Village Voice…well, most of the people I hung out with bought it exclusively for the voluminous rock-show and apartment-for-rent listings; amusing if frequently scandalous, even pornographic, personal ads; and maybe Nat Hentoff, among the small handful of my punk-rocker pals who cared about topical affairs.

When it came along, Russ Smith’s NY Press felt like a welcome breath of fresh air to NYC’s minuscule minority of RightWingNaziDeathBeasts like me, but it was short on the aforementioned Voice features New Yorkers had come to rely on. Even though I bought a copy every week the minute it appeared at the bodega down the street and read it cover to cover, I never for a minute thought it could ever amount to serious, credible competition for the Voice. And that’s pretty much how it went, eventually.

Maybe the best thing about this noteworthy anniversary of an unforgettable tabloid headline is that The Power hasn’t gotten around to outlawing any remembrance or remark upon such lighthearted, entertaining mass-media insouciance yet. You can bet they’re probably working on it, though.

1

DeSantis’ popularity cratering among FLA Repugnicunts

Says “several”anonymous GOPe legislators, one anonymous lobbyist, and…a FLA Senate D卐M☭CRAT.

Florida Republican Lawmakers ‘Frustrated’ With DeSantis
Everything in the 2023 legislative session is going as Gov. Ron DeSantis has planned, as the Republican-led legislature is solely pushing through the Governor’s agenda prior to his announcement that he will run for President in 2024.

As we stated before, this is DeSantis’s world and lobbyists, lawmakers, media reporters, and state employees are just living in it.

But just as supporters of Gov.DeSantis’s soon-to-be-announced presidential campaign

Which, despite having been touted as “soon-to-be-announced” for many months now, still hasn’t been, I can’t help but notice.

continue to promote his accomplishments of the past four years, more and more DeSantis-friendly supporters, who have to work with the Florida Legislature, and lawmakers themselves, are starting to expose what could be a chink in the Governor’s armor—his alleged lack of loyalty and selfish legislative agenda.

According to several Republican lawmakers, DeSantis’s push to get his entire agenda passed through the legislature has left the caucus “exhausted” and “frustrated,” echoing the growing sentiment of lobbyists that DeSantis’s specific agenda has allegedly left many issues on the table, not to be heard because they did not conform with his overall agenda.

How unfair, having to buckle down and, y’know, do your fucking jobs. That sound you may be hearing is me playing “Hearts and Flowers” on the world’s tiniest violin, to express my sympathy for your suffering such an awful injustice under this thuggish DeSantis despot.

All of the Republican lawmakers spoke to The Floridian on the basis of anonymity for fear of retribution by the Governor and/or his executive office, but State Senator Jason Pizzo (D!!!) gave a very candid take on the growing concerns within Republican circles.

“It’s all about DeSantis. This place is run by his iron fist,” said Lobbyist X. ” And Didn’t we just elect him to govern for four more years?”

A very “colorful” Pizzo then pivoted his frustration for DeSantis to the state budget, where he claims he “successfully sued DeSantis on the budget, saying that the DeSantis Administration in the “midnight hour” created new policy on immigration.

“Where the f-ck are they? But where are they? You couldn’t find 49 people somewhere in Florida. And while yours and my property insurance is f0-cking exploding, we have $12 million to go blow for private jets,” questioned Pizzo. We don’t fly military vets in private jets from the state of Florida coming back from deployment, but it continues.”

Pizzo is referring to the $12 million dollars allocated in the Florida budget to transport illegal immigrants, and the aforementioned 49 illegals who were flown from the Texas border to Martha’s Vineyard. When he filed the complaint, which was dismissed on technicalities, Florida had already spent $1.56 million on the flights.

Cry me a river, little open-borders D卐M☭CRAT bitch. Then go take yourself a flying fuck at a plate glass window, you and all the rest of your fellow whining, over-entitled ProPol remoras. Shipping a planeload of border-jumping wetbacks to the very heart of Rich Shitlib Playground so as to acquaint the snobbish robber-barons who disport themselves thereabouts with the harsh realities of the policies they so stridently pimp was a genius move, the very epitome of poetic justice.

Admittedly, Ron DeSantis may yet turn out to not be the All-That-And-A-Hot-Fudge-Sundae his more rabid supporters purport him to be; we’re a long way from any final verdict being reached on that one. But crying in your craft beer about his upsetting of the Uniparty applecart to pursue his own agenda probably isn’t a very effective means of rallying Real Americans to your cause, I’m thinking. The people of Florida recently re-elected him—overwhelmingly—to do exactly that, after all.

Bud transitioning

The obvious next step.

Budweiser Replaces Clydesdales With Cows Dressed As Horses
ST. LOUIS, MO — In a natural continuation of its push for diversity and celebration of transgender lifestyles, Anheuser-Busch has announced the company will be replacing the iconic Budweiser Clydesdales with cows that identify as and dress like horses.

“We feel this is a natural next step,” said Anheuser-Busch CEO Brandan Whitworth. “If we’re going to bend reality and ignore all basic understanding of science and biology with our Bud Light brand, then it only makes sense to make that philosophy consistent across our other brands, including the classic Budweiser advertising campaigns.”

The beverage giant scoured the nation in search of dairy cows that live their lives as horses. “I was very excited to receive a phone call from the Budweiser marketing folks,” said dairy farmer Ed Herman. “I just can’t get this group of cows to produce any milk because they insist on pretending to be horses. I was ready to put down the whole lot of ‘em, but now they can actually make me some money with this ad campaign.”

Budweiser marketing executives have mapped out an extensive campaign that will culminate in an emotionally stirring commercial during next year’s Super Bowl broadcast. “We really want to tug on everyone’s heartstrings,” said the company’s marketing spokesperson Katie MacDonell. “We’re absolutely certain that everyone in the country will be excited to follow the journey these proud horses embark on to discover their true inner species.”

After staring closely at the attached picture, I must admit I’m convinced.

Update! Transheuser-Busch tries to win back their traditional customer base, earning only mockery and derision for the patronizing, insultingly schmaltzy effort.

Anheuser-Busch has been devastated financially due to the company’s partnership with transgender influencer Dylan Mulvaney.

The company has lost over $7 billion in market value since they decided to shove Mulvaney in America’s face. Merchandisers have also revealed no one is buying Anheuser-Busch products.

Desperate to win back former customers, Budweiser decided to bring back the beloved Clydesdales in a new ad on Friday.

The ad opens with a Clydesdale galloping across a field of grain and then a town street. The horse next passes a fire department, a flag raising ceremony, and a beach.

The commercial concludes with the Clydesdale standing on its hind legs on top of a hill.

Couples and friends are seen throughout the ad along with national monuments such as the Lincoln Memorial.

Ad transcript:

Let me tell you a story about a beer rooted in the heart of America, found in a community where a handshake is a sure contract, brewed for those who found opportunity and challenge and hope in tomorrow, raised by generations willing to sit, share, risk, remember.

This is a story bigger than beer. This is the story of the American spirit.

If Budweiser thought former customers would forgive and forget, they were sorely mistaken. The former fans instead had an absolute field day over the commercial.

Follows, a collection of hilariously scornful Tweets from disgusted ex-Butt Light drinkers, my favorite of which would have to be this one:

Heh. Pinky Pie*, a “transgender”? Who the hell knew?

*NOTE: My ID of the above My Little Pony character might very possibly be in error; my daughter’s agonizing-but-inevitable phase of Pony-love was mercifully brief enough so that I hadn’t time to learn any but a very few of their names.

2
1

Another non-apology apology

This time from Anheuser-Busch. Spencer’s title is worth a look all by itself.

Anheuser-Busch Issues Statement on Bud Light Brouhaha That Will Satisfy No One (Just Like Their Beer)

Heh. Mind, as somebody who never could stand beer, I have no dog in that particular fight.

It has been nearly two weeks now since Bud Light decided to shove transgender madness down our throats by featuring fake woman Dylan Mulvaney in its advertising, and only on Friday did Anheuser-Busch CEO Brendan Whitworth emerge from his bunker and offer a statement to try to tamp down the controversy. But in this hour of crisis for his company, which has lost $6 billion and counting in market value since Mulvaney became the Queen of Bud Light, Whitworth tried to satisfy everyone, and will only end up satisfying no one at all.

Most of Whitworth’s statement was just blather. “As the CEO of a company founded in America’s heartland more than 165 years ago,” he began, “I am responsible for ensuring every consumer feels proud of the beer we brew.” Now wait a minute, Whitworth. You may be proud of the beer you brew, although that would be a stretch given that it’s Budweiser, but you expect those who buy the beer to be proud of it, too? I’ve drunk a beer or two in my time, although I’ve generally avoided Bud, and I’ve never said or heard anyone else say, “I sure am proud of this beer.” Why would anyone feel proud of the beer he’s drinking? Does Brendan Whitworth feel a similar pride in the food he eats? Does he exclaim at lunch, “I am so darn proud of this ham sandwich!”?

This is a peculiarly twenty-first century form of blather. We’re supposed to be proud of everything now, even perversions and mental illnesses. And since Whitworth is writing to, among others, people who loudly proclaim how proud they are that Dylan Mulvaney is pretending to be a woman, his choice of words is unlikely to have been reflexive or accidental. He seems to be trying to sidle up to the gay pride folks without actually mentioning them straight out.

Whitworth informs us that he spent “time serving this country” and reminds us of “the importance of accountability,” even as he is in the process of evading accountability. “As CEO of Anheuser-Busch, I am focused on building and protecting our remarkable history and heritage. I care deeply about this country, this company, our brands and our partners. I spend much of my time traveling across America, listening to and learning from our customers, distributors and others.” Okay. So what about Dylan Mulvaney?

“Moving forward,” says the proud Brendan, “I will continue to work tirelessly to bring great beers to consumers across our nation.” Terrific. But…what about Dylan Mulvaney?

That was it. Brendan Whitworth went back into his bunker without saying a thing about why everyone was paying attention to his statement in the first place.

He’s right; I read the whole sorry statement earlier, and nowhere will you find any mention whatsoever of the very thing that sparked this whole controversy in the first damned place. Which is understandable, of course, when viewed from the position of an A-B exec. After all, the goal here is to get pissed-off Bud Light drinkers to STOP talking about it, not to spur on further discussion.

C’mon, everyone, let’s just move on, can’t we? It never happened, I don’t know what you’re talking about, and it was three other guys who did it! LOOK, OVER THERE, A SQUIRREL!

Bud Light is in a similar position to the one Harley-Davidson was some years back: an aging customer base, falling profits, dwindling interest among younger people in their products. I remembering reading an interview with some H-D exec or other discussing these very issues back when the Motor Company was down and very nearly out, and how it might possibly be resuscitated.

And shortly after I saw that article, behold! Harley’s big break with the tradition that originally made them, the V-Rod, was introduced. A truly radical departure from H-D’s legendary cruiser/touring bikes, with a brand-new Porsche-designed engine and groundbreaking (for Harley) cosmetics that dispensed with the classic Harley styling—fatbob tanks;  casual, laid-back seating position; wide bars; low to the ground; lots of eye-grabbing chrome—the V Rod was actually quite a success, at least in the overseas market.

Car & Driver said Harley-Davidson’s branding was “culturally rather than technologically driven; so imagine our surprise at seeing the company’s newest ride, the V-Rod, complete with a liquid-cooled DOHC four-valve V-twin developed in partnership with Porsche Engineering.” They added, “we think the V-Rod is a serious threat to its own stablemates as well as to cruisers from other manufacturers. It’s that good”.

Motorcycle Cruiser wrote “The V-Rod was intended to bring in more than the usual suspects, and it did. It became the company’s best-selling bike in other countries. In America, V-Rod buyers often came from other brands, attracted by its modern engine, excellent performance and not-the-usual-cruiser style”.

Gee, coinkydink? I think NOT.

What Harley managed to achieve with its market-base-extending new offering, A-B now hopes to pull off with its tranny-sicko ad campaign: lure in some new customers, and keep them. Just one problem with that, though.

Pro-sanity activist Matt Walsh remarked, “Anheuser Busch has finally released a statement, and it’s just as clumsy and stupid as the marketing stunt that got them into this mess in the first place.” He added, “The statement won’t satisfy their conservative customers because there is no apology or acknowledgment of wrong. And it won’t satisfy the Left because it doesn’t affirm transgenderism and admits at least (without using the word) that the trans issue ‘divides people.’” And most importantly, Walsh said, “the boycott is still on.”

Brendan Whitworth has thus accomplished nothing. And of course, he had extremely little room to maneuver. He couldn’t possibly disavow Dylan Mulvaney without enraging the Left and opening up his company to new boycotts, as well as to the possibility of violence against innocent Bud distributors and stores selling the product. But he couldn’t affirm that the Mulvaney campaign was a great idea without further alienating the patriots who are already making the company feel the heat in their declining market value. So he tried to balance between two barstools and fell off both.

Aww, too bad. My heart just bleeds for them, really it does. Red, that would be, not rainbow-hued.

After being saved by a timely goobermint tarriff increase in 83, the Harley Davidson Motor Company was able to make itself competitive on market ground which had shifted under its very feet, thanks in no part to the Big Four cabal of Jap-bike makers’ diabolically-cunning strategy to destroy the American motorcycle industry by flooding the market with cheap,  lightweight, durable, low-maintenance bikes—a move that actually saw a large portion of their own US dealership franchises driven out of business, having been forced to sell their wares at suicidal, below-cost prices due to the low skullduggery of the rice-burner manufacturers.

Question now is, in a world in which beer-drinkers have long since moved on to pricey boutique-beer, in the main brewed and sold locally, will there ever again be a significant market for the watery, limp pisswater cranked out by companies like A-B? Beer having (d)evolved from being something of a lowbrow preference to snobbish poofery? We shall see, we shall see.

Update! Further thoughts from Bill, who, like myself, is highly dubious of the notion that boycotts and the like ever accomplish much of anything.

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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

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