Where Do We Go from Here?

Sweden has fallen

Posted on May 13, 2024May 13, 2024 by Mike

Bet Mark Steyn has come to really hate being proved right all the time.

I may not know much, but I know Malmö – although eighteen years ago one of the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s many in-house lefties, Jill Singer, accused me of exaggerating the city’s transformation. I offered to fly the late Ms Singer and an ABC crew to Sweden so that she could accompany me on what, by 2006, had already become my annual ritual in Malmö. The eminent presenter declined, being more concerned, fulminating-theocrat-wise, by George W Bush, on the grounds that “a faith-based US President …scares the bejesus out of me”. So, as in previous years, I walked my walk alone:

After that conference with Lars in Copenhagen a couple of years ago, I took the train over the water to Malmö in Sweden. Malmö was one of the first Christian cities in what was then Denmark. It’s now on course to become the first Muslim city in Sweden. I sat and had a coffee in a nice little place in a beautiful medieval square in the heart of town. Aside from a few modernist excrescences, it would not have looked so different in the early days of the Lutheran church. I got lucky, and fell into conversation with a couple of cute Swedish blondes. Fine-looking ladies. I shall miss Scandinavian blondes when they’re extinct. At dusk, and against their advice, I took a 20-minute walk to Rosengård. As you stroll the sidewalk, the gaps between blondes grow longer, and the gaps between young bearded Muslim men grow shorter. And then eventually you’re in the housing projects, and all the young boys kicking a soccer ball around are Muslim, and every single woman is covered – including many who came from “moderate” Muslim countries and did not adopt the headscarf or hijab until they emigrated to Sweden, where it’s compulsory, at least in Rosengård.

Do you remember the rationalization Israel used at the Oslo Accords? “Land for peace”? In Sweden, which is about as far as you can get from Gaza and the West Bank, they’re also trading land for peace, and as in Gaza unlikely to wind up with either. The Jews are already fleeing Malmö: Soon it will be like Tangiers or Baghdad or any other Arab town with a weed-strewn, decaying “old Jewish cemetery” and no one left to tend it. But it’s not just the Jewish graveyard that’s destined to be abandoned, but the Lutheran ones, too.

I would urge anyone to do that twilight walk from downtown Malmö to Rosengård, as the blondes thin and the bearded men multiply. That’s Europe’s future walking toward you.

For around a decade-and-a-half it was a more-or-less scientific experiment. Until the Covid clobbered my jetsetting, each year I would mark the precise point at which the last blonde was glimpsed and the beards took over – and each year that point advanced just a little more towards the centre of Malmö. By 2008 (which is a long time ago now: Greta Thunberg was in kindergarten) the “foreign-born” population of Rosengård was already 86 per cent. Sixty per cent had not completed elementary school.

How’s that working out? Sweden is not to everyone’s tastes, but it was, until recently, a peaceful and well-ordered society. Today, in a wholly transformed land where you can be shot dead in the crossfire at a pub and the courts say child gang-rape does not count as a serious crime, you might think that the ire of ethnic Swedes would be directed other than toward Jews. But in 2016 in Östersund I talked to a young lady whose daughter and her friends had been sexually assaulted in the municipal swimming baths by “migrants”. The staff who witnessed it sized up the cocksure young lads, swimming in the pool (in defiance of regulations) in their urine-stained and malodorous underwear, and declined to attempt their removal.

“There must have been other men there,” I said. “Didn’t they do anything?”

My friend laughed. “Swedish men are manginas,” she said – a portmanteau of “man” and “vagina” with which I was not hitherto familiar.

It is the logic of arithmetic: Follow the science, as Greta’s climate chums say. A keffiyeh is a little light accessorising; the full body bag will come later. So I’ll repeat my observation from almost two decades back: The Swedes are also trading land for peace, and will wind up with neither. A society that has nothing to die for has nothing to live for, and thus the last Europeans rush to embrace those who will supplant them.

If preferring Israel and ((((DemPeskyJOOOOOZ!!!))) to yodeling jihadi weirdbeards and any of their hellish Muzzrat theocracies you’d care to name is wrong, then I don’t wanna be right. As the Bible (almost, kinda-sorta, okay, not really) says, by their friends shall ye know them. Any position that places me alongside “people” like tard-baby terror-symp Greta T; sundry campus-protest pussyfarts; Faux Jaux Bribem & the D卐M☭CRATs, and the whole squalid panoply of Jew-haters, Jew-baiters, the Mad Mullahs, Enemedia liars, and historically-illiterate Libtard shitwits who have not the first fucking clue about the Middle East generally, Pisslam, and exactly why and how Western Civ got itself into this sorry pass to begin with…well, thanks, but no thanks. That is NOT anyplace I want to be standing, these are NOT people I want to be associated with in any way, shape, or form.

A suggestion of even slight congruity between my own viewpoints, beliefs, or casual assumptions and their own is grounds for immediate, careful reconsideration on my part, to help me figure out where I might have gone so horribly wrong, and put things right again.

I hope BiBi tells Usurper Jaux in no uncertain terms to go take himself a flying fuck at a rolling donut; goes through the Rafah rat’s nest like shit through a goose—buildings, homes, streets, and tunnels, the whole God-bedamned megilla; and offs every last pus-nutted, goat-buggering Hamas filthbag currently stinking up the joint. Not one brick left standing upon another, Mr Prime Minister, sir, that’s my advice. In the immortal words of Kevin Costner portraying old-school G-man Elliott Ness:

And there you have it, Mr Netanyahu. Damn the naysayers who hate you no matter what, with their squee-squee-squeeing for a phonus-balonus “peace” agreement that would be tantamount to suicide for your proud, undauntable people. Collateral damage, “civilian” casualties, “disproportionate” force? Boo fucking HOO, assholes. PRO TIP for murdering Mooselimb savages now crying their widdle eyes out over “genocide” and other such rot: Don’t start none, won’t be none. The current conflict, initiated by Hamas at the unwise instigation of their Iranian overlords, must now end in one and only one way: total, uncompromising victory for Israel.

“The next civil war will be between bat shit crazy women and everyone else”

Posted on May 8, 2024May 9, 2024 by Mike

An idea originated by Bill Whittle per Stephanie Gutmann, via Glenn Reynolds.

This post has been a long time developing. Back during the #MeToo pogroms, and the pink pussy hats, and the screeching on Capitol Hill, and the Stalin-esque career-killing accusations and the disappeared men, I wanted badly to write something titled “Why Are Women so Angry?”—for watching #MeToo had been like watching the spread of a contagion, a mind virus, to use Elon Musk’s term, and a contagion that was spliting society further into two camps.

There is certainly a growing political divide between men and women. Women are more likely to be left-wing and in so far as left wing is crazy….

Now, rampaging leftism will certainly get you to crazy pretty fast, but it’s this quality of crazy even among women who aren’t overtly political: The quality is there in the blowsy thirty-something woman in the unflattering bike shorts and crop top doing an illegal climb to the top of a fragile Mayan pyramid in the Mexican jungle, where she does a bawdy dance (Instagram, don’t you know.) It’s the much older women having affairs with teenaged boys and then filming themselves (Trigger Warning! This is an actual YouTube genre) making out with much younger men, even boys. It’s the flagrancy, the exhibitionism, the unhingedness we saw so often during the Gaza Encampments among the women who often seemed to be leading the crusades and who, so often, just seemed to be using “Gaza genocide” as an excuse to get hysterical.

There are actually good reasons (not excuses, reasons) why Bat Shit Crazy contagion should be at peak right about now:

FULL DISCLOSURE: I am not necessarily opposed to the exhibitionism per se, if it was actually attractive women participating instead of the usual shrieking, butt-ugly manatees who no sane person wants to see get nekkid doing it. Follows, an in-depth listing and analysis of a few of those good reasons, and then:

Is all of this a recipe for civil war? Probably not.

People who throw around the notion of an incipient civil war seem to forget that wars still depend on a huge supply of young men, fit and motivated enough for that “bitter arithmetic” and, what with very real testosterone deficits among men these days, we barely have enough sufficiently aggressive men to fill our regular army.

So we may not see civil war (at least along these lines) any time soon, but we can expect lots more Bat Shit Crazy before a new CINC can help restore sanity.

I must beg to differ with that last; it is NOT up to any CiNC, new or old, to help restore sanity, nor should we be looking for one to do it for us. The mindset that reflexively looks to FederalGovCo for the solution to every problem great or small is a major factor in how we got ourselves into this mess in the first damned place.

The grind

Posted on May 6, 2024 by Mike

Analysis: perfectly, inarguably, one hundred percent TRUE.

Brainwashing campus activists starts long before college
Americans shocked at the aggressive protests on our most elite campuses often imagine these kids have become brainwashed while away at school.

That indoctrination certainly does take place. Yet the process for most starts far earlier, often in the K-12 years — or even before.

What we’re seeing on our campuses is the culmination of many years of leftist activists pushing kids to the forefront to spread their propaganda.

And it’s not remotely just board books like “A is for Activist” that introduce toddlers to the idea of protest before they even set foot in school.

Teachers push their agenda; whether climate change, gun control or the war in Gaza, they’re focused far less on teaching children how to think than what to think.

The goal is to turn kids into activists, and the sooner the better.

After all, children can be valuable for shutting down debate.

Their youth implies innocence and seems to confer moral authority: How could anyone argue with an innocent child?

Ah yes, but one of these things (youthful innocence) is NOT like the other (moral authority). There is simply no equivalency there, in fact very little relation between the two at all, if any. Quite the opposite, I’d say: if one is present, the other in fact CANNOT be, by definition. It’s by way of being a categorical error—of the sub-type known amongst logicians as an informal fallacy*—a mistake which has unfortunately become commonplace thanks in part to the peculiarly American worship of youth and vigor at the expense of the peculiarly Oriental respect for the wisdom of age and experience.

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: there is simply no fixing this without first unfucking the government schools. All our troubles and woe begin there; that rat-bastard Gramsci was truly a fucking diabolical genius, damn his eyes. My own kid has attended those institutions of indoctrination from Grade One, something I’m allowed no say in whatever. Thankfully, my daughter’s native intelligence and/or comprehension are off-the-charts extraordinary; her teachers so far have all been great, rewarding her smarts and eagerness to learn by going well out of their way to nurture and encourage those qualities every chance they get. Even so, I’ve been diligent right along in cautioning her that even the best of them doesn’t know everydamnedthing, and that she must therefore never assume that Teacher is always right, nor take every word she/he says as the Gospel truth.

This is not a young ‘un who has to be dragged kicking and screaming to do her homework, especially if it’s reading. I’ve told her repeatedly to think of her mind not as a sponge, passively soaking up everything thrown at it without discrimination or reflection, but rather as a sieve, sifting the totality to separate the wheat from the chaff, so to speak. Instilling and maintaining a healthy skepticism both inside the classroom and out, without lapsing into cynicism, generalized distrust, and despair is a tightrope all attentive parents must walk. So far it’s worked out well, for which felicitous result I consider myself very lucky indeed.

*I took quite a few classes as a college student in logic, philosophy, and rhetoric, for no reason other than that I found the subjects intriguing, so much so that I still have a cpl-three of my logic textbooks to this very day and have had cause to re-consult them plenty of times over lo, these many years; in fact, my poor old Logic 101 text is every bit as battered and dog-eared as any of my cherished military sci-fi paperbacks—its spine broken in several places, its binding loose and flappy, its fabric covers frayed, its yellowed pages liberally spattered with food, beverage, and greasy-fingerprint stains. Like a beat-up old La-Z-Boy recliner, she’s ugly as homemade sin now, but I do love her so anyway

The case for Trump

Posted on May 5, 2024May 5, 2024 by Mike

Diplomad makes it, short and sweet.

I am voting for Trump, as I did twice before, for the simple reason that Trump understands America and its people in a way that no other president or candidate has in my lifetime.

He understands the corruption in the media, judicial system, and bureaucracy, and is suffering personal harm because of it. He understands that we cannot continue to hollow out our industrial base, and hope to remain a world power and a source of creativity and prosperity. We have to make things, such as cars, medicines, and the other billion widgets that come out of a genuinely industrial country, not just buy them from China and Vietnam. He understands that our once world-beating colleges and universities are now steaming heaps of woke ideological garbage, producing millions of self-entitled, credentialed morons, who want you to pay for their “education,” and couldn’t change a tire if their lives depended on it. He understands what insane environmental policies and the open border mean to our independence, safety, national culture and cohesiveness.

I hear a lot of blather about how crude and divisive Trump is; that’s nonsense. Obama, Clinton, and Biden not only attack Trump but attack his supporters: “Cling to guns and rifles,” “Deplorables,” “Cultists and insurrectionists,” “White supremacists,” etc. Trump doesn’t do that.

He asks us all, regardless of race or religion, to make America great again, in other words to live up to our lofty aspirations.

That’s about the size of it, yeah. Nothing we didn’t already know, natch, and not that I think he has a hope in hell of being allowed to win anyway. But it can never hurt to run through it again just the same.

The three R’s

Posted on May 2, 2024May 3, 2024 by Mike

The last of which being the most important in these most perilous times.

The Three Rs: Read the Writing on the wall – and do the ‘Rithmetic. Like I said, it’s not difficult – although it seems to be for some of the willing dupes who brought us the western world’s new reality. Here is (Wokester chowderhead and self-gassing Jew Anthony Housefather—M) the Liberal Member of Parliament for Mount Royal, and Parliamentary Secretary to the President of the Treasury Board in Mr Trudeau’s ministry, attempting to reconcile the scenes on the street with the policies he has supported:

I call on the @mcgillu administration to act. Final exams are coming up and all students need to feel safe on campus.

Good luck with that. As Sheila Gunn Reid points out, Anthony Housefather belongs to a government that was happy to invoke war measures when Canadian truckers arrived in Ottawa and to freeze the bank accounts of any citizen who donated fifty bucks to the cause. The foot-soldiers of the new intifada need fear no such strictures. Mr Housefather chaired the House of Commons committee I testified before just five years ago, and seemed personally a polite and agreeable fellow. But he belongs to the “Official Jews” for whom mass Muslim immigration is less of a threat than those awkward types who point out the obvious consequences of mass Muslim immigration. The “Official Jews” are not confined to Canada: America is awash with them, as is the United Kingdom. And unless, as Kathy Shaidle used to say, they’re “too stupid to be Jewish” what’s happening cannot have come as a surprise.

And thus the seeming paradox of the post-war era – that, as a certain “niche Canadian” has been saying for years, the principal beneficiary of western Holocaust guilt was Islam. The Canadian Islamic Congress and America’s ADL and their European equivalents did not choose merely “to remain silent”: they enthusiastically welcomed it, and did their best to crush those who disagreed. Having made his bed, Mr Housefather is now apparently a little squeamish about lying in it. He is a Jew whose family have been Montrealers for generations. But there will be no Housefathers in the city’s future: that is the logical consequence of Liberal Party “multiculturalism”.

This isn’t about Jews, except insofar as they are presently at the sharp end of a convulsive cultural shift. About six months after 9/11, I took a little trip to Western Europe and the Middle East and, waiting for a friend in Vienna, I noticed that everybody going in and out of the maternity shop across the street appeared to be Muslim. That’s just anecdote, as the bien pensants who dismissed my book as “alarmist” like to say. But two decades on it’s borne out by statistics. Back then, Muslims made up four per cent of Austria’s population; now it’s over eight per cent.

“Eight per cent” doesn’t sound like a lot. But, in western societies of elderly native populations, they skew young, and make up an ever larger percentage of your youth – close to a majority in certain European cities. Jews, on the other hand, are old. So, for those cutesy coeds, young Muslims are all around and young Jews are very thin on the ground. Mr Housefather’s concern for “all students” to “feel safe on campus” isn’t going to be an issue for much longer.

The salient feature of the demonstrations roiling McGill, Columbia and other western campuses is not that the pasty blonde trustiefundies are “pro-Palestinian” but that they’re cool with being culturally Islamic. Oh, to be sure, it’s mostly just keffiyehs and a few other fashion accessories; not yet full body bags and clitoridectomies. But why wouldn’t it have a purchase on them that Mr Housefather’s bleatings about how everyone should feel safe do not? The young want to belong, and what they most want to belong to is the future – and they grasp instinctively where the future’s headed.

They also get that these guys mean it. It is not coincidental that white upscale females are now among the most enthusiastic proponents of Hamas. For two generations, their menfolk have made the mistake of believing all that What Women Want bollocks, and the result is legions of “new males”, metrosexuals, soyboys – or, alternatively, depressive methheads chugging back Bud Light down in the man-cave. Me again: “We have made a world of men that women don’t want and women that men don’t want, and that doesn’t seem likely to end well.”

Oh, it isn’t going to, that much seems completely obvious. In the world Steyn describes, how on Earth could it? Another apposite Steynism: Demography is destiny. We must pray he’s wrong, but in the quiet places deep inside us which we don’t talk about at parties, we know damned well he’s right.

Lots of folks on Our Side frequently warn, in grim, foreboding tones, “War is coming.” Okay, fair enough, so stipulated. But…WHICH war is coming, prithee tell? Would that be the war between Pisslam and Western Civ? The war between Real Americans and the Goosesteppin’ Left? Rural versus urban, Freemen versus authoritarian government, Blacks versus Whites? Red States versus FederalGovCo, deranged “transgender” freaks versus sane Normals? Academia versus Joe Lunchbucket? Republicans versus D卐M☭CRATs, illegal aliens versus citizens, Capitalists versus filthy Commies, builders versus wanton destroyers? Sickly, green-teethed Vegans versus sturdy omnivores in the flush of good health? Gun owners versus gun-grabbers? ((((Dem JooJooJooJOOOOOZ!!!)))) versus pretty much everybody else? Professionals versus tradesmen? NeverTrumpTards versus OnlyTrumpers? Ghettos versus suburbs? Big Labor versus Big Business? Which, which, which, which? Please, somebody help me out here, it’s got me all confusticated and bewildered.

Overlong as it is, frightening as it is, the above list is nevertheless by no means comprehensive. I can see I’m gonna have to get a scorecard to keep up with all this.

The most striking thing of all is how incredibly insightful the incomparable CS Lewis was; he saw this goatfuck coming decades ago, laying out the particulars with such foresight and precision it makes for some seriously hair-raising reading.

A masterful piece of religious prose disguised as satire, C.S. Lewis’s The Screwtape Letters is a series of messages from senior devil Screwtape to his protégé Wormwood on how best to corrupt mortals. Originally released during World War II, its tight 175 pages provide charming, timeless wisdom.

In an addendum released shortly before the author’s death in 1963 – Screwtape Proposes a Toast – Lewis pivots from dispensing universal wisdom to directly criticizing social trends of his day, trends which have gone from mere whispers on college campuses 60 years ago to become orthodoxy with the power of law today. Reading it today, it feels like the author was more prophet than professor.

In the 15-page essay – full text available here – the devil Screwtape outlines how the term democracy can be warped into destroying excellence, first in the halls of education then to society at large to make sure everyone stays “equal.”

“Democracy is the word with which you must lead them by the nose,” Screwtape tells his fellow devils. “The basic principle of the new education is to be that dunces and idlers must not be made to feel inferior to intelligent and industrious pupils. That would be ‘undemocratic.’”

Screwtape espouses the “significant benefits” of “ungrading” decades before Brown University ever led this race to the bottom, saying:

“At universities, examinations must be framed so that nearly all the students get good marks. Entrance examinations must be framed so that all, or nearly all, citizens can go to universities, whether they have any power (or wish) to profit by higher education or not.”

Easy to see echoes of Screwtape in the demands of progressive demagogues, like when Bernie Sanders insisted that everyone should go to college so we have “the best-educated workforce in the world” – willfully ignoring that an education void of rigor has no value at all. Screwtape all but uses the word “triggered!” to describe children in self-esteem first, outcomes last schools.

“Children who are fit to proceed to a higher class may be artificially kept back, because the others would get a trauma — Beelzebub, what a useful word! — by being left behind.”

Screwtape must be grinning at headlines about public schools eliminating gifted programs, knowing how much this hurts the segment of society most likely to build it up: the middle class.

Downright spooky, no? Effectively, what Lewis has done here is draw a roadmap not of physical terrain but of the future, one much more accurate and minutely detailed than any Google GPS map is, will, or ever could be. Assuming current travel trends and conditions remain unchanged, all indications are that we’re in for a very rough ride—a nightmare trip which will steadily get worse the longer we stick with this godawful road, stubbornly maintaining course in this same deadly direction despite many large, colorfully-printed hazard signs warning of imminent catastrophe just ahead.

Plenty more after the excerpted passages, all of it similarly prescient. I downloaded the Screwtape addendum via the provided link, but haven’t found time to start reading it yet. When I do, you’ll know it; there’ll be tons more post-worthy material therein, I expect.

Police story

Posted on April 28, 2024April 29, 2024 by Mike

The great Ken Layne tells it as only he can, a personal reminiscence that provides a bracing look back at the kind of old-time cop we all used to respect, trust implicitly, and admire—a noble breed which has become all too rare in Amerika v2.0, alas. They used to be the norm rather than the exception in America That Was, but tragically for us all, America That Was is no more.

Ripley
Ripley was a Riverbank cop for a good long while until he went to work for the Sheriff’s Department around 1985 or so. He was one of those old skool small town cops, Officer Friendly if you will. Him being called out for something did not mean automatic arrests of everybody involved would be made “to let the courts sort it out”.

He was one of those cops that actually took the time to listen to both sides of a dispute, would pull over to help a motorist make minor repairs rather than just calling a tow truck, and would even give you a ride home instead of automatically arresting you if you had a little too much to drink provided you weren’t so fucked up you were driving on the sidewalk and giving whiney-ass sober citizens a reason to complain. On top of all that, he had a great sense of humor.

That’s not to say he took shit off of anybody. He treated people the way they treated him.

Real Pancho was drinking at Sanchez’s Cantina one night and shooting the shit with Tony, the owner. Things got a little spirited between a couple of the customers, and the shit spilled out into the street. Rip was either called or was just driving by and stopped to break it up. After he got everything settled and turned to walk back to his patrol car, one of the drunks slapped at the back of his head. Rip spun around and dropped him with a hard right. Real Pancho told us later, “That motherfucker went from Andy Taylor to Buford Pusser in 1.5 seconds flat, homie.”

A bunch of us were sitting around drinking beer one Friday evening and his name came up, then everybody started throwing out theories on why he was so damned lenient, everything from compassion and understanding to being a local boy to whatever. George burped and said, “Y’all are overthinking this. Rip just hates paperwork with a passion, is all. He’d rather drive around in his patrol car than sitting in the station filling out arrest reports.”

Rip had a soft spot for anybody that worked out at the ammo plant, having worked there himself during the Vietnam war before enlisting in the Marines to go kill commies. As a matter of fact, on my very first day at work, the line boss I was working for told me to keep my work badge in my wallet with my driver’s license and if Officer Ripley pulled me over, hand him both and I’d probably get off with just a warning.

He wasn’t lying, either. A couple weeks after I started there, I rolled through a stop sign at about 10 mph and was pulled over by Rip, the first time I had ever laid eyes on him. As I was digging my license out of my wallet, he saw my work badge and forgot all about my traffic infraction. We spent the next 15-20 minutes talking about the plant and the mutual friends and acquaintances we had.

That’s not to say he didn’t write us tickets if we pushed it. We got a couple warnings but if we continued to misbehave, we got a ticket with him bitching about it so much we almost felt bad for putting him on the spot. “Now here I am trying to do my damnedest to be a decent human being by not holding y’all to the literal letter of the law, but do you appreciate my kindness and good will? Oh nooooo, you test my patience time and time again. I gave you a warning for speeding, then not a week later I see you blasting through town endangering law-abiding citizens and Mexicans. I’m gonna introduce you to my Maglight if you keep this shit up. Sign here.” It was hard to hold a straight face while he was ranting.

He was welcome out at my place and showed up quite a few times with his wife Jeri and sons. They fit in well anyway with about half my friends knowing him their entire lives. He wasn’t Rip the cop when he was there, he was just Rip the local guy. He left his job at work.

People smoking weed wasn’t an issue because he was usually gone by dusk along with others that brought their kids, and back then we didn’t smoke dope around kids. I doubt anybody would’ve put him on the spot by firing up a doobie anyway even if there were no kids around.

His youngest son pulled a trigger on a real gun for the first time out at my place, and him and his boys came out fairly regularly to hunt pheasant or dove when the seasons were open.

Rip’s story is a long ‘un, and also one of the best damned reads you’re ever going to see. It pains me no end to see my daughter’s terror and dread at every interaction I’ve had with po-lice in her presence—there’s been a fair few, none of them at all adversarial and/or confrontational, all of them relaxed, casual, even cordial.

True story: once, when we were pulled over for some piffling infraction or other (a busted taillight bulb, I believe it was), the poor kid actually burst into tears as I was talking with the cop—gasping for breath, shoulders heaving, great sobs racking her little body. The cop was horrified, and tried his dead-level best to calm her down, speaking directly to her in soothing Daddy-voice tones to assure her she didn’t need to be afraid, that he’d never dream of harming a beautiful little girl like her in any way, that his job was to help people like us, not to hurt them. Finally, he gave the effort up as a lost cause, apologized profusely to me, and we all went our separate ways. I felt sooo bad for the poor guy, I really did; it was perfectly obvious to me that he was a loving parent himself, the thought of any child actually being terrified of him just absolutely wrecked the man.

A few days later, I went so far as to go to the Belmont PD HQ and ask to see Officer Whateverhisnamewas (I had caught his name from his shield and jotted it down afterwards so’s I wouldn’t forget), whereupon the SGT on front-desk duty that day brought him out and I offered my thanks for his going so far above and beyond the call etc to be such a sweet, caring guy with my distraught daughter. He blushed to his roots at that, saying t’was nothing, he meant what he said about helping people like us being part of his job, the part he himself found most satisfying of all.

I then told him I honestly had no earthly inkling as to where her reflexive fear of cops might’ve come from, that I was working diligently to teach her otherwise. In my considered opinion, the blame for Madeleine’s mystifying breakdown couldn’t fairly be laid at his doorstep, I said, reassuring him that I bore him no ill will whatsoever over the episode.

After that, we chit-chatted idly about this, that, and the other for a few more minutes—turns out he was a drawling, born-and-bred scion of good ol’ Gaston County like I was, a natural kinship which gave us plenty to discuss—then shook hands warmly and again went our separate ways with a smile on our faces, a skip in our steps, and a song in our hearts.

I have this longtime habit, see, of going out of my way to talk to cops I cross paths with in my daily round, having had many friends, neighbors, and family members who served on one force or another since I was but a wee bairn. I’ve tried to instill in her from early on the idea that cops are not too terribly different from the rest of us workaday schlubs: some of them fine folks, some of them obnoxious pricks, but in the main just regular people who have a difficult job to do, about like anybody else is/does.

I want Madeleine not to shy from the police quaking with fright as if they were the Loch Ness Monster, Nosferatu, or the Wolfman with a badge and a gun, but to treat them just as she would anyone else, taking them as they come, reserving judgment unless and until they give cause to dislike and shun them as toxic assholes. In my extensive experience with them, act as if cops are actually, y’know, human beings and they’ll usually respond positively, granting you the same small courtesy in return.

This is just another of many thorny parental dilemmas every caring Mom and Dad worthy of the name must carefully consider, then choose the course of action that seems best for their child based on the information at hand, which is usually incomplete. As such, it greatly disturbs me to think that—what with today’s militarized police kitted out as soldiers in full combat gear including Level IV body armor, automatic battle rifles, and even tanks (!!!), faces concealed robot-like behind Next Generation Integrated Head Protection System helmets, NOD goggles, and opaque face shields, champing at the bit to engage their Enemy (to wit, US) and vanquish him utterly—by urging my kid not to fear, distrust, or abhor cops I might be doing her a serious disservice at best, possibly putting her in real danger at worst.

As I’ve said so many times, when we passively allowed marauding Lefty wreckers to take our country from us, many fine things were lost in the suicidal shuffle that were very much worth holding onto. Compassionate, dedicated cops of Ripley’s stripe who deem personal integrity, selflessness, and strict attentiveness to duty to be sacrosanct would definitely be one of those things. LESSON TO BE LEARNED: In the next iteration (if any) of the Former USA, after the grassroots uprising I call the Coming Unpleasantness© has concluded and the dust has settled, perhaps We The People will be more willing—better prepared mentally, physically, and materially—to fight, truly fight, to keep them.

Yes, that of necessity means violence, bloodshed, and war, and what of it? Real Americans realize that our freedom, our heritage, our traditions, our very society itself are all worth paying any price to maintain them. The simpering, pusillanimous wretches who preemptively foreswear violent action in defense of our unique American birthright have in effect surrendered already, mewling shamefully in favor of lawsuits, Congressional investigations, higher court decisions, and “elections” as if there was any credible hope in all that endless, proven-futile meat-beatery. So to hell with them then, sayeth I.

RINO=NOTRINO

Posted on April 24, 2024April 24, 2024 by Mike

Joe Mannix gets down to brass tacks.

RINO is perhaps the least accurate political insult ever used. The fact that it has been in existence for so long and is still so useful is a testament to that. We don’t still have “Nixonian Republicans” because it quit being relevant. We don’t still have “Me Too Republicans” or most of the others. But we do still have the misnamed “RINOs” and the term isn’t going anywhere because the disconnect between what the Republicans actually are and what their voters perceive them to be has never been solved.

Consider those who are famously “RINOs.” They are men like John McCain and Mitch McConnell and Mitt Romney and Adam Kinzinger. The list goes on. And on. And on. It’s probably easier to name Republicans who are not “RINOs,” and that should underscore the problem with the term. If virtually all of the prominent and powerful Republicans are “RINOs” and have been for decades (though with even greater concentrations today), the term is internally contradictory.

These men are not RINOs, they are “Republicans In Good Standing.” These are not phony Republicans who work against the interests of the party. They work against the interests of their constituents, and of the people more broadly, but not of the party. They are not merely titular Republicans. These men and all of their fellow travelers are the Platonic Ideal of Republicans. They are the GOP. This is what the GOP has been for ages. This is what it wants to be. This is the party that puts forward red-meat legislation like ending Obamacare or improving border control when it can’t possibly pass, and then refuses to even consider such unseemly things when they are actually in a position to make them happen. We also call this “failure theater,” and it’s part of the same concept. It’s the GOP’s modus operandi.

Those who do not behave this way – the odd man who seems to at least occasionally try to do something else – are the real RINOs. They are the ones who do not behave like Republicans. If someone is “in name only,” it’s the person who is hated by the rest, and the person whom the rest resent for bucking their trend and their norms. Those who normally get called “RINOs” don’t deserve to be because they’re the real, true, effective, “team player” Republicans who serve in the manner demanded by the party.

Boldface mine, because A) it’s the indispensible truth, and B) it says it all, really. I’ve suggested here many times that the D卐M☭CRAT Party ought to be banned and dismantled as a criminal organization masquerading as a political party, but maybe it would be more useful to ban the Vichy GOPe instead.

SitRep for Amerika v2.0

Posted on April 24, 2024 by Mike

Situation Normal: ALLLL Fucked Up.

The citizens of the United States of America are in deep trouble. Why? I’ll tell you why.

The following are objectively true statements about the United States of America in 2024. These statements are not in any way hyperbolic, and they represent a stark reality that not even the most rabid Fascist Democrat can deny. Here they are:

1. The leader of the nation’s opposition party is currently defending himself in a series of contrived #lawfare criminal and civil suits reminiscent of fascist Hitlerian/Stalinesque show trials of the 20th Century, for the primary purpose of making it extremely difficult for him to be elected as President of the nation.

2. On campuses throughout the nation, Jewish students are being persecuted and attacked in a manner reminiscent of the German Nazi Party’s Kristallnacht of November 9 and 10, 1938.

3. In many states across the nation there are no voting laws enforced that effectively verify that ballots come from qualified citizen voters.

4. Individuals who peacefully protested the matter of #3 have been imprisoned by the federal government in inhumane conditions for literally years without trial.

5. The nation’s Southern Border is wide open to the point where any person who is capable of walking can cross into the nation AND receive free money and support necessary to survive. There is no mechanism to ensure that criminals and terrorists are not taking advantage of such situation.

6. The current President constantly displays symptoms of advanced elder dementia.

7. The current President has repeatedly labeled the opposition party as a “threat to democracy,” often alongside visual imagery similar to that used by Hitler and other fascist leaders of the 20th Century.

8. The nation’s debt equals over 120% of its annual GDP.

9. As a consequence of inflation and interest rates, most middle class citizens of the nation cannot afford to purchase a home.

10. The political party that controls the Presidency and the Senate has actively supported sending tens of billions of dollars to foreign governments who are credibly accused of money laundering funds provided to such party members, while not providing remotely similar assistance to the residents of the State of Hawaii who were burned out of their homes.

11. The nation’s military has equipment readiness rates making it incapable of fighting effectively, while instead focusing on “diversity” initiatives that promote race/gender/sexuality over war fighting skills and competency.

12. The overwhelming majority of the nation’s mass media refuses to report on any of the above matters, and in most cases the people running such mass media have close familial and personal connections to the people directly responsible for the above matters.

These are symptoms of a nation on the verge of disintegration. Moreover, these are qualities consistent with failed fascist regimes of the 20th Century.

What are we going to do about it, Patriots?

Ahh, the eternal question. The eternal answer: I don’t know.

This time out, I decided to just cut to the C&P chase without doing the usual Tweet embed. For that, head on over to the Place de la Renegade.

“Higher” “education”? In a pig’s eye

Posted on April 23, 2024April 23, 2024 by Mike

Another plainspoken, common-sensical missive from the febrile mind of Mike Rowe, whose Twitter/X/Whatthehellever feed I am pleased and proud to subscribe/follow/whatthehellever. It must seem to him at times as if he’s just screaming at a wall with his writing—a despairing, draining feeling of ultimate futility I’m all too familiar with myself after twenty-some-odd years of throwing this stuff out there to little apparent good effect. However, some things simply gotta be said, no matter what. To my mind, even if it changes nothing, merely annoying the shitlibs and pissing them off makes the endeavor well worth the effort.

For a guy who runs a foundation that sends young people to trade schools all over America – trade schools where I’m pleased to report, no one is calling for the extermination of Jews – today’s headlines are once again offering another excellent reason to consider redirecting…

— The Real Mike Rowe (@mikeroweworks)

April 22, 2024

Once again, I’ll circumvent the “Read more” clickbait for y’all’s convenience with a little C&P action.

For a guy who runs a foundation that sends young people to trade schools all over America – trade schools where I’m pleased to report, no one is calling for the extermination of Jews – today’s headlines are once again offering another excellent reason to consider redirecting whatever financial support you might earmark for the Ivy League, to the mikeroweWORKS Foundation. Why? Because the Ivy League has truly lost its mind.

Consider the latest madness at Columbia University, where the president, Minochuhe Shafik, has announced a new round of remote learning – effective immediately – in response to a noisy rabble of thugs and bullies calling for the eradication of Israel.

If I had a kid at Columbia, I’d be livid. It’s simply mind-boggling that the president of this university would rather consign her students to another crucible of remote learning, than permanently expel the protesters. I mean, seriously, what does it take to get expelled from Columbia? These creeps are on camera, literally screaming into the faces of Jewish students.

“They yelled at us to go back to Poland, said we have no culture, and chanted, ‘Strike, strike Tel Aviv,” said one terrified student. Followed by, “Burn Tel Aviv to the ground,” “Go Hamas, we love you, we support your rockets, too.”

In a now-infamous image, one demonstrator appeared before a group of counter-protesters holding Israeli and American flags with a sign pointing in their direction that read, “Al-Qasam’s next targets.”

That’s what you get for $68,000 a year at Columbia – an administration who cowers in the face of thugs and bullies, and a university president who would rather make your kids try to learn off campus, than take a truly hard line with those students calling for the murder of Jews. For the love of God, expel them. Calling for murder is not protected speech.

In the meantime, mikeroweWORKS is accepting applications for our next round of work ethic scholarships. Deadline is the end of the month. It’s worth noting that the careers we’re training people for cannot be taught, or preformed, remotely. It’s also worth mentioning that we accept donations year-round and spend the money we take in with great discretion. You can apply for a scholarship, or donate, at http://mikeroweWORKS.org.

Excellent questions, excellent advice, bluntly expressed with nary a trace of flinching, prevarication, or weasel-wording throughout. Good on ya, Mike, and keep up the fine work.

Another day…

Posted on April 22, 2024April 22, 2024 by Mike

…another looney-tooney “transgender” attempted murder.

School Ignored Trans Student’s ‘Hit List, Leading to a Bloody Beat-Down
“I’m gonna murder you,” shouted the trans-identifying student at Pennbrook Middle School as the 13-year-old blindsided a 12-year-old girl last week and bashed her skull repeatedly with a Stanley cup (ie, a Thermos—M). The victim had to be hospitalized, her scalp stapled back together, and she had to go through a concussion protocol, according to police.

It’s about as horrible a middle school assault as can be imagined, not in the least because students and staff alike were well aware of the perpetrator’s “hit list.”

The Daily Mail reported Monday that another 12-year-old female student — remaining anonymous because of her age, like the victim and the thug — made a public statement that “she and two fellow students filled out paperwork explaining what they knew was going to happen if nothing was done and said that she was warned ‘watch your back’ at lunch.”

“You could’ve stopped it,” she said. “It was five hours from when I told you it was going to happen. I don’t get how you couldn’t have stopped that.”

“We had to watch [the victim] taken out with blood dripping down her face and I will never forget that! Laying in bed last night I just kept repeating it in my head.”

Reportedly, she was next on the hit list — the one the school did nothing about except to tell the “trans” kid’s potential victims, “Don’t worry about it, it’s not gonna happen.”

Let’s talk for a moment about the so-called “trans” phenomenon we’ve seen explode these last few years.

NononononoNOOO, we shouldn’t. In fact, we mustn’t, not for any reason whatsoever. That would be WRONG, see.

So naturally, the vicious anti-“trans person” H8RRRbigot author then goes on to do precisely that, the “transphobic” sumbitch. Why, it’s an act of actual, literal genocide, that’s what it is! Probably another of those vile, vicious, H8ful Trump-suckers, I bet.

If these deranged mutants keep it up with the batshit-insane mayhem—which they will; the voices in their heads seem to require it of them, while Leftard chaos-pimps stand up and cheer, denigrate the brutalized victims, or at best maintain strict silence—one has to wonder how much longer it’s going to be before these twisted maniacs wind up with some real, bona fide hatred and retaliatory violence to contend with. For the nonce, it’s as our blog-buddy of twenty-mumblemumble years’ standing Stephen concludes, in response to yet another explicit threat of freakshow-violence against specific cis-het oppressors:

But don’t worry. He won’t actually hurt anyone. Right up until he does.

Pretty much, yeah.

Update! At the “Thermos” link above, Ace coins a term I expect will come in mighty useful for saner sorts going forward, regrettably: “Transgender Rage.”

Montana sitrep

Posted on April 21, 2024April 21, 2024 by Mike

Q: Are things coming to a head, even in Big Sky Country?

A: Yes. Yes, they are.

There’s Gonna be a War in Montana
An analysis of visible propaganda in Bozeman, Big Sky, and Three Forks

In popular culture, protagonists and antagonists battle eternally for Montana’s precious land. Country folk fight off city folk in Yellowstone and the podcast Land Grab: A Podcast About the Place We Call Montana. Long before that Montana (1950) pit sheep farmers against cattle farmers. In Last of the Dogmen (1995) cowboys faced Cheyenne Indians. Of the 14 major film/TV projects scheduled to be shot in Montana, every single one involves some take on the battle for Montana’s soul. And Montana’s soul is in its land.

Land conflicts have led to at least one recent murder, but despite Yellowstone’s depiction of ranchers (our heroes) massacring greedy real estate developers with machine guns, so far Montana hot wars have been relegated to fiction.

My wife, toddler, and I attended a family reunion on a ranch in Tom Miner Basin—one of the most beautifully preserved parts of the state—for a week. Six years ago I attended the same event at the same ranch. There is indeed something special about the land and particularly the sky in Tom Miner Basin. Rural Montana is astonishing. I won’t bore you with more cringey descriptions because that’s all there is to say. Jockeying for Montana’s land provides great stakes for drama because the prize is priceless.

More interesting to me were the parts of Montana I saw by accident. A new coldness grips the relationship between visitors and locals. I first noticed it at the ranch. Six years ago the kitchen helpers were a happy mix. The chef was known for his thoughtful local cuisine, elk with au jus, beef burgers from ranch cattle, loaded baked potatoes, hearty mac and cheese. The servers wore big smiles. The progressive boomers attending the reunion were comfortable with this type of staff, the same hodgepodge they interacted with at home. Much backslapping occurred.

This time, the help had clearly experienced a vibe shift. They were all white, and distant. The food was awful—boiled carrots and reheated pork steaks, the result of some Aramark-type lowest-bidder supply chain. The new staff had been mostly hired on Coolworks, a website for low paid service jobs on ranches, resorts, and other “great places.” They came from the surrounding towns, forgotten about, left behind, bright red Trump country. Young women with sloped posture and heavy eyeshadow, barely 18. Their clothes don’t fit, they looked impoverished, hungry, skittering. The young chef who had once proudly presented his take on local food was gone. The guests no longer chatted with servants. There was separation and silence.

Then my wife tested positive for COVID so we fled to Bozeman. Throughout the subsequent week, I explored Bozeman and Big Sky, ultra-hot destinations (and now homes) for the woke bourgeoisie, and Three Forks, the polar opposite, a totally different world a razor thin distance away. I saw two groups of people, an overclass and an underclass, pressed up against each other, spoiling for a fight, just waiting for the littlest spark to set their fury ablaze.

Over what? The soul of Montana of course. One-of-a-kind land. That’s nothing new. What’s new is the character of the warring factions. They aren’t who you see on TV. On one side you have global interests imputing their values, importing cheaper labor, hollowing out Montana’s attractions and selling them to an international bourgeoisie for maximum profits. On the other you have the new underclass. Not the friendly Christian country folk of times past. And not Cowboy Hat Republican Rancher Dad either. No, these are a new kind of country person. Angry, exasperated, poor, Trump-loving service-workers—the Oxy takers, the meth cookers, the eaters of Chick-Fil-A. This group is acutely aware of just who controls Bozeman and Big Sky, and believe that the same people are coming for their territory. And they’re right.

If you listen, you can hear the two groups screaming at each other in silence, waiting for their very own Gavrilo Princip to spark this thing off.

You can at that, and not just in Montana, either. Then again, when shitlibs are screaming at the top of their lungs exactly what they intend to do to you, it probably behooves you to listen. Because if you don’t think they’ll really do it—not they themselves necessarily, but through their Wokester governments; their Wokester banks and other corporate entities; their Wokester cultural mafia; their monolithic Wokester “education” edifices from pre-K to post-grad; their grim, whey-faced Wokester bureacrats—then you probaby aren’t paying attention anything like closely enough. Divemedic knows:

So if the leaders of the Democrat party calling for your imprisonment and death aren’t real, the people burning and destroying property aren’t real, just what will it take for you to advocate defending yourself? When is it enough to say “no more, I will not be made a target?”

— Divemedic (@DMAreaOcho)

April 20, 2024

Indeed so.

(Via WRSA)

The trouble with teachers

Posted on April 18, 2024April 19, 2024 by Mike

“Chalkboard Heresy” for sure, he’s blaspheming against the Left’s Bull God.

One thing I’ve realized after working with teachers for 12 years is that it’s very hard to get them to commit to political or ideological neutrality in the classroom because:

A. They view teaching as an inherently political act intended to turn students into political units… pic.twitter.com/2t640P7KcL

— Chalkboard Heresy 🍎🔥 (@CBHeresy)

April 16, 2024

If you don’t want to bother with the annoying “Read more” click-generator, which I cordially despise myself, here’s the full text:

One thing I’ve realized after working with teachers for 12 years is that it’s very hard to get them to commit to political or ideological neutrality in the classroom because:

A. They view teaching as an inherently political act intended to turn students into political units (activists/“change agents.”)

B. They attach moral value to their beliefs, and thus view the proliferation of those beliefs as a moral obligation.

C. They do not recognize particular beliefs as political or ideological, and believe they’re “just teaching truth.”

D. When trying to be balanced, requiring students to compare two sources or opinions, they engineer- purposefully or unwittingly- the lesson to bring students to certain conclusions.

He’s right, right down the line. It’s always the way with shitlibs; they truly, sincerely cannot fathom how any intelligent, decent, well-intentioned person could possibly disagree with their noxious, proto-fascist views except out of pure, black-hearted evil. They are right, you are wrong, and that’s the end of it. There really is no point in trying to reason with them, or even talk to them at all; their belief in their own righteousness is rock-solid, and there’s nothing more to discuss. They aren’t interested, therefore aren’t listening anyway. They cannot be persuaded, they can be neither bargained with nor wheedled; they perceive no need whatever to reconsider or even re-examine their own opinions. Put in the simplest terms possible, they cannot see, and have no desire to.

In effect, shitlibs are, as the priests used to caution, “obstinate in sin.” So to Hell with them, then. When you persist in attempting to debate fairly and factually with them, all you’re really doing is teaching a pig to sing. Unfortunately, we all already know what that fool’s errand will get ya ere the end.

Via Stephen, who adds:

Plus this: “This is so contrary to the teachers I grew up with in the 70’s and 80’s. I didn’t even know if most of them were married, let alone their political persuasion. There were always 1 or 2 more “radical” teachers who didn’t hide their politics, but they were rare.”

I’ve joked for years that I knew so little about my teachers’ lives outside of school that, for all we knew, they blinked in and out of existence when the morning and end-of-school bells rang.

Not so much with my teachers; nearly all of them went to our church, knew my entire family well, and were considered good friends. Several had even taught my dad when he was but a wee bairn, and remembered him fondly. Looking back, it’s another benefit of growing up in a small, close-knit town.

As for knowing your teacher’s marital status, that was simplicity itself: the ones who went by “Mrs” were married, the ones who were “Miss,” as was my young, attractive 3rd grade teacher Miss Fitzgerald, weren’t. The negligible fraction of “Mr’s” among the faculty…well, frankly, who cares? I didn’t have a single male teacher until Junior High, now renamed “Middle School,” to prevent the lasting psychological damage inflicted upon fragile young minds by the hateful insult implicit in the word “Junior,” I reckon.

Naturally, the shitlibs had to get busy doing away with the Mrs/Miss linguistic convenience as quick as they could. “Disrespectful,” “derogatory,” “injurious” and/or “offensive,” an archaic remnant of the Patriarchal edifice of Systemic Misogynist Opression and Enslavement, holding the Sisterhood entire back from being all they could and should be, don’tchaknow. Thank God Gaia we’ve “evolved” beyond that particular hideous atrocity, at least.

“We live in a banana Republic”

Posted on April 16, 2024April 16, 2024 by Mike

And yet somehow, some way, “Donald Trump is going to crush these people in November.” Sorry, Charlie, you have to pick one or the other. They’re mutually exclusive; both can’t be true, it’s by definition an impossibility. Making things tougher still is the concomitant fact that before you can even begin to sort out the latter, you first have to fully accept the ugly truth of the former.

Boeing: What happened?

Posted on April 14, 2024April 14, 2024 by Mike

From a half-century as one of the world’s premier, most respected aircraft manufacturers to…well…

Meme purloined from the awesome Ken Lane. Now to the who, what, how, and why of it.

Suicide Mission
What Boeing did to all the guys who remember how to build a plane

John Barnett had one of those bosses who seemed to spend most of his waking hours scheming to inflict humiliation upon him. He mocked him in weekly meetings whenever he dared contribute a thought, assigned a fellow manager to spy on him and spread rumors that he did not play nicely with others, and disciplined him for things like “using email to communicate” and pushing for flaws he found on planes to be fixed.

“John is very knowledgeable almost to a fault, as it gets in the way at times when issues arise,” the boss wrote in one of his withering performance reviews, downgrading Barnett’s rating from a 40 all the way to a 15 in an assessment that cast the 26-year quality manager, who was known as “Swampy” for his easy Louisiana drawl, as an anal-retentive prick whose pedantry was antagonizing his colleagues. The truth, by contrast, was self-evident to anyone who spent five minutes in his presence: John Barnett, who raced cars in his spare time and seemed “high on life” according to one former colleague, was a “great, fun boss that loved Boeing and was willing to share his knowledge with everyone,” as one of his former quality technicians would later recall.

But Swampy was mired in an institution that was in a perpetual state of unlearning all the lessons it had absorbed over a 90-year ascent to the pinnacle of global manufacturing. Like most neoliberal institutions, Boeing had come under the spell of a seductive new theory of “knowledge” that essentially reduced the whole concept to a combination of intellectual property, trade secrets, and data, discarding “thought” and “understanding” and “complex reasoning” possessed by a skilled and experienced workforce as essentially not worth the increased health care costs. CEO Jim McNerney, who joined Boeing in 2005, had last helmed 3M, where management as he saw it had “overvalued experience and undervalued leadership” before he purged the veterans into early retirement.

“Prince Jim”—as some long-timers used to call him—repeatedly invoked a slur for longtime engineers and skilled machinists in the obligatory vanity “leadership” book he co-wrote. Those who cared too much about the integrity of the planes and not enough about the stock price were “phenomenally talented assholes,” and he encouraged his deputies to ostracize them into leaving the company. He initially refused to let nearly any of these talented assholes work on the 787 Dreamliner, instead outsourcing the vast majority of the development and engineering design of the brand-new, revolutionary wide-body jet to suppliers, many of which lacked engineering departments. The plan would save money while busting unions, a win-win, he promised investors. Instead, McNerney’s plan burned some $50 billion in excess of its budget and went three and a half years behind schedule.

Swampy belonged to one of the cleanup crews that Boeing detailed to McNerney’s disaster area. The supplier to which Boeing had outsourced part of the 787 fuselage had in turn outsourced the design to an Israeli firm that had botched the job, leaving the supplier strapped for cash in the midst of a global credit crunch. Boeing would have to bail out—and buy out—the private equity firm that controlled the supplier. In 2009, Boeing began recruiting managers from Washington state to move east to the supplier’s non-union plant in Charleston, South Carolina, to train the workforce to properly put together a plane.

That move, also, didn’t work out so well for the now-floundering aerospace company. The story details a toxic mish-mash of Wokesterism, the rise of a know-nothing MBA class, and a creeping, not-my-problem/not-my-fault corporate blame-shifting culture that replaced the former all-American can-do, git-er-done spirit which may well prove fatal to the once-mighty Boeing…and probably should, frankly.

It’s a sign o’ the times in Amerika v2.0, by no means unique but an increasingly commonplace story—and an extremely sad one.

(Via Ed Driscoll)

In dreams

Posted on April 6, 2024April 6, 2024 by Mike

Dave Renegade has hisself a wild one.

Since the individual states determine their election process under Article II, Section 1 for the President, the method of choosing representatives to vote in the electoral college does not stipulate whether the process is suspended if elections are suspended. As with most people (including me) in the country, this seemed a weak argument in a government ruled by a Deep State tyranny.

The time frame of the dream was just after the ad hoc elections were held. I got the impression that not all states participated. However, the news broke in the dream that the state of Georgia recognized the results of this elections and would send representatives to Washington, D.C. to vote for the new President.

Another dream where I had never imagined the scenario previously (including the winner of the Georgia election – Ron Paul). In this dream, people were wondering how many states would be required to send representatives to the electoral college to be valid? Could one state determine the President if no other states participated? I did get the impression that there were other states that had elections and were considering validating their legitimacy.

While this is just a dream, I would give favorable odds that there will not be an election for President this year. Does it matter whether martial law is declared and elections are suspended or if the overthrown Republic is officially declared to be dissolved? Elections will never restore Liberty once tyranny assumes control.

Yup. Which is why, as I’ve always insisted, the Uniparty/Swamp critters have no interest whatsoever in cancelling them. Why on earth would they, after all, when Amerika v2.0’s current system of sham “elections” is working so nicely for them?

Think it over, people: they’ve gotten the whole sordid mess down to a science at this point, so cancelling the 2024 “elections,” or any later ones for the foreseeable future, can conceivably do them nothing but harm. Such a needless move would expose the flim-flam for what it really is, beyond even the most stubborn, starry-eyed Pollyanna’s ability to ignore or deny. It would be the ripping-off-of-the-mask to end all ripping-off of masks, surely, and could only lead to people asking themselves questions and thinking thoughts The Power would infinitely prefer they didn’t.

Cancel the “elections”? Real Americans should only be so lucky. As stupid, inept, and overly bold as they no doubt are, I see no sign that TPTB are quite THAT far gone in suicidal folly just yet. Jack Nicholson’s unforgettable quote regarding comfortable but ultimately hopeless dreams, from the grotesquely underappreciated Going South, fits in nicely here, I think.

Henry Moon: That’s it – for me. I’m too young to die.

Julia Tate: You don’t understand.

Henry Moon: I understand about dreams. I understand about wakin’ up, too. Didn’t I want to ride with the Younger Gang and they wouldn’t have me? Claimed I wasn’t cut out to be a Younger. My feelin’s was hurt, but I accepted it.

I bolded the apposite line, so’s none of y’all fine folks would miss my meaning. There’s a truly vital lesson tucked away therein, and some damned good advice too.

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