Orange Man BAAAAAD

That consarned Trump, what a repulsive sicko pervert he is.

Stormy Details of Past Affairs: When a President Watched As His Aide Had Sex With a Girl
Most of what follows aren’t rumors. It’s not a Stormy Daniels, “she said- he said” allegation. There are multiple witness accounts. The president had quite a sexual appetite, beginning with his loss of virginity at 17 to a Harlem prostitute. After he was elected president, he arranged for a tryst with a 19-year-old White House intern. It lasted a year – perhaps because the teenage intern aged out. There were other interns and at least one famous movie star.

The president watched, and a Secret Service agent observed as the president’s Special Assistant was “banging a girl on the edge of (the) pool” just feet away. One would think that the media would spend days, if not weeks reporting those details if they could verify that Trump was that president.

S’awright, we all know he did it. That, and much, much worse, even. Why, the putrid demon-fiend said “grab ’em by the pussy,” for Christ’s sweet sake!

But he wasn’t. That president was the mythical King of Camelot, the icon of the Democrat Party, and an equal to Lincoln in stature. John Fitzgerald Kennedy was that adulterous cad of a chief executive.

John Kennedy couldn’t keep his pants zipped and reportedly looked at his watch while he gave his sexual attention to extra-marital partners. From start to finish — 15 minutes was all the time they got. Then, out the door. It wasn’t a secret. His wife knew. The Secret Service knew. Reporters knew. J. Edgar Hoover knew and threatened to use Kennedy’s trysts as political blackmail. But JFK was the golden calf.

Ahh, the exalted, golden days of holy Camelot, when D卐M☭CRATs and their pet Enemedia poodles ruled the DC roost with benevolence and skill, and none dared question or defy their absolute right to do whatever they pleased. Enlightened, evolved, compassionate, “mostly peaceful,” sensitive: t’was a better age, a better America, and a better President, that’s for sure.

A washed-up porn pin cushion and her story about blacking out and not remembering what happened should never have seen the light of day or the inside of a courtroom. Her new claims that it wasn’t “about the money” and her insistence that she was an apparent unwilling victim are equal parts garbage, legally irrelevant, and clearly intended to prejudice the 12-person jury. The scandalous testimony Judge Merchan allowed has been, without doubt, utterly irrelevant to the case at bar. Merchan is sheep-dogging a kangaroo court, a political show trial that the KGB’s Lavrenty Beria would be proud of.

I got your attention by leading with a false suggestion. Misdirection. That’s what the prosecution is doing in Manhattan. Trump wasn’t “banging” interns. And this trial isn’t about Daniels or her claims. It’s [supposed to be] about business documents. But the prosecution got what it wanted. A false suggestion that Trump may have raped Daniels. 

Orange Man bad.

The Manhattan trial and the blatant misconduct of the trial judge have made it crystal clear for Americans. This isn’t about what Trump did or didn’t do. It’s about getting Trump.

Well, I mean, DUH. The only question remaining now is how much more of this arrant horseshit Real Americans will put up with before they finally get up off the couch, raise up on their hind legs, and strike back at their antagonizers.

The greatest irony of all is that Bad Back Jack’s radical-supply-sider tax cuts were more draconian than either Reagan’s or Bush’s cruel, heartless, ruinous ones in percentage terms, yet elderly shitlibs nevertheless drench their Depends to this very day in rapturous memory of the self-serving, womanizing, election-buying rich-boy heel that was taken from them far too soon. Go figger. Worked a treat at stimulating a stalled economy too, in all three instances. Then again, tax cuts almost always do, regardless of who implements them—almost as if there might be some sort of symbiotic, mutually-reinforcing relationship between them (for more on that curious, inexplicable conundrum, please see this post).

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

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.

Put-up job

Waitwaitwait, you mean to tell me that the whole thing was all just a DO(I)J swindle all along?!? That Meinherr Garland’s DO(I)J really, truly is as marrow-deep corrupt and partisan-politicized as some of us have been insisting for years? Why, I can’t believe it. I WON’T believe it.

The DOJ’s Doctored Crime Scene Photo of Mar-a-Lago Raid
New disclosures in Special Counsel Jack Smith’s espionage case against Donald Trump reveal the FBI tampered with evidence to create the infamous photo–and DOJ has lied about it for nearly two years.

It is the picture that launched a thousand pearl-clutching articles.

A few weeks after the armed FBI raid of Mar-a-Lago in August 2022, the Department of Justice released a stunning photograph depicting alleged contraband seized from Donald Trump’s Palm Beach estate that day; the image showed colored sheets representing scary classification levels attached to files purportedly discovered in Trump’s private office.

Included as a government exhibit to oppose Trump’s lawsuit requesting a special master to vet the 13,000 items taken from his residence, the crime scene pic immediately went viral—just as Attorney General Merrick Garland, who authorized the unprecedented raid, intended. 

At the time, even regime-friendly mouthpieces questioned the need and optics of the raid; the photo helped juice the DOJ’s justification for the storming of Trump’s castle.

“[The] question of whether Trump had classified material with him at his Mar-a-Lago resort has captured the public’s attention. The photo published by the government appears to answer that question quite affirmatively,” Washington Post resident fact checker Philip Bump wrote on August 31, 2022.

Yeah, well, y’know, the Washington Post. That would of course be the longtime regime house organ Washington Post, after all. Fake News doesn’t come any more Fake Newsier than them. Onwards.

Some of Bump’s colleagues were more hyperbolic. An ex-CIA officer told ABC News the cover sheets indicated the highest level of secrecy, which in the wrong hands could have resulted in murder. “People’s lives are truly at stake. Without being melodramatic, anything that helps an adversary identify a human source means life and death,” intelligence expert Douglas London melodramatically warned in reaction to the photo.

The New York Times insisted the photo was consistent with how the FBI handles criminal investigations. “[It] is standard practice for the F.B.I. to take evidentiary pictures of materials recovered in a search to ensure that items are properly cataloged and accounted for. Files or documents are not tossed around randomly, even though they might appear that way; they are usually splayed out so they can be separately identified by their markings,” reporters Glenn Thrush and Adam Goldman wrote on August 31, 2022.

Except…that is not what happened.

And it most certainly wasn’t, as the article goes on from there to detail. Highest possible kudos for the indespensible Julie Kelly for yet another marvelous real-journalistic coup de main. The woman is like a fucking machine.

Yet another BM (Biden Moment)

***”President”*** shits self again, women and minorities hardest hit.


Yep, as someone who has raised a toddler my own self, I can definitely say that the sudden halt and semi-squat accompanied by the dreamy-eyed gaze into the far distance is all too familiar.

Sweet home Shithole Chicago

Hog butcher for the world, City of the Sloped Shoulders, to update Sandberg to better reflect modern reality. They tell me you are wicked, and I believe them.

Chicago Mayor Panics, Runs From Reporters Asking About Slain Cop’s Funeral
Mayor Brandon Johnson had another one of his panic attacks Thursday, running away from reporters like NBC Chicago’s Mary Ann Ahern, who just wanted to ask him–among other things– about his administration pressuring the family of slain Chicago Police officer Luis Huesca, to let Johnson attend his funeral. Johnson ultimately did not attend, even though he and other officials spilled their petulant, childish drama over the somber event. To watch him succumb to his panic attacks over questions about the funeral I leave this link: https://x.com/MaryAnnAhernNBC/status/1786118723230707763 “Why do you have to run from us Mr. Mayor?” asked Ahern.

But Ahern knows the answer. He’s a snowflake, a grape who can’t take the pressure of leadership. And there are just about 100 days until the hard left tear up the Democratic National Convention. What a party it will be.

According to reporting by Fran Spielman of the Sun Times, Johnson’s team tried to push the mourning Huesca family into inviting him to the funeral of the slain officer. I’ve never seen anything so despicable in Chicago politics and most of you know I’ve seen a lot.

If there’s anything lower than that, it’s running away like a whipped dog when you get caught.

He has a coward’s built-in excuse though, he might say Huesca’s mother didn’t understand the bad Spanish of his police officials and aides who initially tried to intimidate her by insisting he had to attend her son’s funeral, that it was mandatory. That it was all lost in translation. He’s craven enough, with his panic attacks, to try it. And he’ll always play the race card if it doesn’t work.

It’s John Kass, who as is his usual wont pulls not a single punch throughout, so of course you’ll want to read the whole thing.

Blibbering

Yeah, he’s just fine, no Alzheimers issues here, nosireeBOB.


Follows, several more videos confirming Pedo Peter’s total lucidity, clearheadedness, and remarkable facility for quick-wittedness and spontaneous speech, all from the same Medal of Presidential Paralympics in Freeduuhhhh…yeah, you know, the thing.

Human? Hardly

Sefton flubs one.

Remember that Joe Biden, as horrendous an example of a human being to have ever obtained political office in this country, just behind the Clintons and Kennedys, was deliberately chosen by Obama because his veneer of being an alleged moderate of the old school gave Obama the cover, on top of his mulatto melanin, to unleash his radical Maoism on America with impunity.

Silly JJ, human beings don’t obtain political office in this country. Not since, oh, around the 1930s, if not earlier.

Birth of a legend

And a culture—or sub-culture, or counter-culture.

What Do You Got? The Wild One, The Loveless and the Biker Movie
On the fourth of July weekend in 1947, a group of bikers rode into a small California town and, depending on who you believe, either had a great party or went on an orgy of destruction. This single incident – now famous as the Hollister Invasion or the Hollister Riot – created both the abiding myth of the outlaw biker and the renegade bike gang, and inspired the movie that provided the template for every other biker movie to follow.

The occasion was the first major bike rally held by the American Motorcycle Association in California since before World War Two, and while attendance was expected to be high, nobody anticipated what would really happen. Hollister – about two hundred miles south of San Francisco and inland from Monterey and Carmel – had always been friendly to bikers, hosting regular races and hill climbs on the Bolado Racetrack.

It had, according to Tom Reynolds’ Wild Ride: How Outlaw Motorcycle Myth Conquered America, “twenty-seven bars, twenty-one gas stations and only six policemen.” It had its own bike club, the Tophatters (still in existence today) – one of dozens, probably hundreds of groups of mostly ex-servicemen who got together to ride, race, drink and raise a bit of hell just before the Hell’s Angels formed a year after Hollister and took over the image of the outlaw biker forever.

Uhh, not to pick nits or anything, but having had a few good friends flying the Red & White patch over lo, these many years—enough of them to know it actually does matter to them, if no one else—technically it’s supposed to be Hells Angels, no apostrophe. Kinda undermines the author’s credibility a wee mite, I think. A bit odd too that, in this recounting of the Hollister debacle, no mention is made of the less-hyped but way worse Laconia whoopjamboreehoo in 1965. Then again, maybe nobody’s made a movie about that one yet. Speaking of Hollister and hype, though, the iconic Life magazine photo of one of the likkered-up, violent “rioters” is instructive:

As it turns out, the provocative pic was almost certainly staged by Life’s sensationalist “photojournalist” and his assistants:

The reliability of the striking photo has been debated, with some sources suggesting that the scene was overtly staged. While the photograph was taken by Barney Petersen of the San Francisco Chronicle. the Chronicle did not run it, nor any other images, in its initial two articles covering the event. The bearded individual standing in the immediate background of the photograph, Gus Deserpa, has said he is sure that the photograph was staged by Petersen, and gave the following account: “I saw two guys scraping all these bottles together, that had been lying in the street. Then they positioned a motorcycle in the middle of the pile. After a while this drunk guy comes staggering out of the bar, and they got him to sit on the motorcycle, and started to take his picture.” Deserpa claims he deliberately tried to sabotage the staging by stepping into the shot, but to no avail.

Barney Peterson’s colleague at the Chronicle, photographer Jerry Telfer, said it was implausible that Peterson would have faked the photos. Telfer said, “Barney was not the type to fake a picture. Barney was the kind of fellow who had a very keen sense of ethics, pictorial ethics as well as word ethics.”

And you can believe just as much or as little of that as you like; surely, no “journalist” would ever lie, right? RIGHT?!? Why, it’s simply UNPOSSIBLE!!!

Anyways. Onwards.

“Nobody has ever fully explained what happened in the town on Independence Day weekend in 1947,” writes Reynolds, “because the allure of the myth is far more tantalizing than whatever facts can be gleaned from eyewitnesses or news photographs. Descriptions run from just a wild party to a rural version of the Rape of Nanking.”

Hollister would inspire a film, The Wild One (1953) – the film that Marlon Brando made between A Streetcar Named Desire (1951) and On the Waterfront (1954) and arguably did more than either film to create Brando’s persona, both on and off the screen. Its basic plot – bike gang comes into conflict with squares, causes mayhem/destroys small town/inspires vigilante payback – is really just a western with wheels instead of hooves, which is why it would be so easy to copy for decades to follow, in films with titles like Dragstrip Riot, The Wild Angels, Devil’s Angels, The Rebel Rousers, Angels from Hell, She-Devils on Wheels, Satan’s Sadists, Angel Unchained and dozens more whose plots vary as much as their titles.

The Wild One begins with a warning: “This is a shocking story,” the boldface card explains over a shot locked off just above the asphalt of a country road stretching to the vanishing point. “It could never take place in most American towns – but it did in this one.”

The first time I watched The Wild One as a teenager I constantly wondered when I’d seen it before; every plot point and conflict worn itself into the pop culture collective memory of the “biker picture” I shared with everyone else: the combination of curiosity, excitement and revulsion when the locals encounter Johnny Strabler (Brando) and the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club; the gang’s goofy mix of childish provocation and cornball hipster slang; the belligerent square john local businessman who insists they have to take matters into their own hands and teach these hoodlums a lesson.

Even Johnny’s signature line, among the most famous Brando ever uttered in his career (“Hey Johnny, what are you rebelling against?” “What do you got?“) had been rendered as rote as pantomime by the time I finally saw it on screen and in context.

The Wild One – directed by László Benedek (Song of Russia, Death of a Salesman), produced by Stanley Kramer and based on “Cyclists’ Raid”, a short story by Frank Rooney published in Harper’s magazine – strains for relevance. Even the costume Lee Marvin wears as Chino, leader of rival bike gang The Beetles, is based on “Wino Willie” Forkner, founder of the Boozefighters, the outlaw gang that was blamed for most of the trouble in Hollister.

(Forkner was a consultant on The Wild One but quit in protest at the portrayal of bikers. The Boozefighters are still around, with chapters all over the world.)

Interestingly enough, and to my bemused astonishment when I learned of it, there’s a Boozefighters MC chapter in CLT, of all locales. I met a young fella in a Boozefighters cutoff at one of our Double Door shows, asked him about it, and saw him at several more of our shows after. Friendly, personable guy, in fact, accounting for my initial astonishment, since the original Boozefighters MC members (Wino Willie most definitely included) were notoriously some of the toughest, rowdiest, most flat-out dangerous one-percenters ever to fly a patch. Even first- and second-generation HA patch holders gave them respect, when they weren’t just avoiding them outright.

Despite my snarky dig at the author’s credibility before, it’s nonetheless a decent enough piece all in all. Certainly, his point about most of the biker-exploitation flicks being sub-par is not something I’ll dispute; I’ve seen all the ones he writes about and many more of the genre besides, and if you’re not into gazing at rip-snorting custom Harleys tearing around the landscape there ain’t much in ‘em for your average Joe Cager to enjoy.

One thing that does puzzle me a mite: contra his sniffy disdain for the biker movies of the 50s and 60s, McGinnis goes on to more-or-less gush at great length about The Loveless, characterizing it as a film with pretentions to High Art whose flaws prevent it from living up to its lofty cinematic ambitions. I saw it many years ago and thought it a real stinkburger myself, not even a patch on The Wild One, which I liked a lot back when I first saw it and still do now. Ultimately, though, even the presence of Willem DaFoe in his first starring role can’t quite redeem the flick for McGinnis:

As the film comes to its conclusion we’re waiting to see if the town is happening to the bikers or the bikers are happening to the town. The directors deliver just the right amount of sex and violence; by the time the smoke clears on the bodies they’ve made precisely the film a young man thought he was going to see when he paid for a ticket to The Wild Angels.

But the film hits its apex just before the cathartic explosion of gunshots and blood at the end, when the gang sit drunkenly around a table at the lounge, bragging about where they’re going and what they’re going to do. Dafoe’s Vance – with a straight face that hints at the talent he’d demonstrate repeatedly over the decades to follow – silences them all by bellowing out four words that impeccably sum up The Loveless:

We’re going nowhere. Fast.

As I recall, the friends with whom I watched The Loveless on VHS erupted in gales of laughter at DaFoe’s simultaneously wooden yet canned-hammy delivery of that line. “Bellowed”? Not in the movie I saw, it wasn’t. Mumbled, more like, or maybe grunted. DaFoe’s face shot adoringly from below as he runs the line; lit cigarette a-dangle from his lips; meticulously-coiffed pompadour afloat over his head like an angel’s halo; trying his very damnedest to look menacing and failing miserably: it was the best unintentionally-comedic performance of all time, hands down. He shoulda won an Oscar for it, assuming there’s a category for such. Happily for all concerned, Willem DaFoe overcame this embarrassing misfire, going on to become one of our finest actors ever.

In any event, The Loveless is as dull, flaccid, and aimless a movie as I ever did sit through. Too-pretty actors turning in lifeless performances; a shambolic, meandering plot arc; disjointed scenes in which the sole point seems to be striking sultry, cliched, wholly-unconvincing tough-guy poses for the camera; unidimensional, affectless, and un-relatable characters; a piss-poor excuse for a “script” bodged together by writers who obviously know no more about bikers than I do about writing screenplays; ludicrous, stilted dialogue no self-respecting real-world biker would ever be caught dead uttering, The Loveless does somehow pull off the cinematic quasi-miracle of being both overblown and underwhelming.

Any of y’all miscreants with a hankering some lazy summer evening to curl up on the couch with some popcorn, a cold beer, and a real, honest to God biker flick, just check out Hells Angels Forever instead, that’s my advice.

No, this is definitely NOT Roman Gabriel’s NFL

Nor Johnny Unitas’s, nor Ollie Matson’s, nor Bart Starr’s, nor Jim Brown’s, nor Mike Ditka’s. Nor mine, nor yours. The people running the show now don’t want it to be, see. And as far as I‘m concerned, may they have joy of their choice, they can fucking well have it.

NFL Funded Left-Wing Group Bailing Out Anti-Israel Bridge Blockers
Community Justice Exchange received grants from NFL’s ‘Inspire Change’ program as recently as 2022

The left-wing nonprofit that bailed out anti-Israel protesters who blocked bridges and highways across the country last week was a multi-year partner of the NFL’s “Inspire Change program” whose work is still promoted on the NFL’s website.

Community Justice Exchange set up a “bail and legal defense fund” for those arrested during last week’s A15 protests. The protests targeted major airports, highways, and bridges in dozens of U.S. cities including San Francisco, Chicago, New York City, and Philadelphia. Their explicit goal was to disrupt economic “choke points” to maximize financial disruption, as explained on their website.

The online fundraiser, hosted by ActBlue and organized in conjunction with A15 Action, told donors that the funds will “support community members who are criminalized in the U.S. for their solidarity with Palestine.”

As an official “Inspire Change” partner, the Community Justice Exchange received grants and publicity in its work “to end money bail and pre-trial detention at the local level and immigration detention at the national level.” The NFL’s partnership with the Community Justice Exchange was last extended in June 2022, according to an announcement from the league. The league touted the left-wing group’s “work with organizers, advocates, and legal providers across the country that are using community bail funds as part of efforts to radically change local bail systems and reduce incarceration.” The grants went toward “coordinating and supporting the 100+ local protest to bail funds and a centralized rapid response fund to support those protesting for racial justice.”

The partnership appears to have since lapsed—the nonprofit wasn’t on the list of grantees announced in May 2023. The NFL’s “Inspire Change” website lists Community Justice Exchange under “Previous Grant Recipients” and still includes a link to the group’s website.

Proud of their little Left-wing fascist goon squads, aren’t they? Like I said, they can have it, all they want and then some. Myself, after being the most rabid Cowboys fan imaginable from my childhood well into my “adult” (a-HENH!) years, I haven’t watched any NFL game—regular season, playoffs, Stupid Bowl, whatever—in several decades now, haven’t missed it even slightly, and almost certainly will never watch another.

Enjoy your “partnership” with the selfsame Leftard pussyfarts who have been trying to get football banned altogether for being “too violent,” “too dangerous” for, oh, ’round about twenty-thirty years or so, while it lasts. You can all go straight to Hell together for all me, and good fucking riddance to the whole sorry lot of you.

Via Sefton—welcome back, JJ!

Update! How we know for sure and certain that there’s really no such thing as zombies, the living dead, angry ghosts who walk among us seeking vengeance against the hated living, &c: Because the shades of Henry Ford, Charles Lindbergh, John D Rockefeller, Tom Landry, and many others—all of whom were hardcore capitalist Reich-wingers, if not straight-up Fascists, in life—haven’t risen from the grave en masse to tear out Wokester throats in righteous rage over their wanton despoliation of all they once held dear on this tormented Earth. That’s a by-God “tell” if ever I saw one.

Well, excepting the ((((JooJooJooJOOOOOO!!!))))-hate, of course. That would been totally jake with at least a couple of the aforementioned.

Another day…

…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 ThermosM). 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.”

Bar: LOWERED

Did somebody just mention “a new low” the other day? Because, just that fast, we get dragged down to another one.

So, the Left Is Now Defending Joe Biden’s Showering With His Daughter
Some things you just have to see to believe because they’re just that crazy.

This week, we learned that the Department of Justice is seeking a harsher penalty for the person who reportedly stole the diary of Ashley Biden — the daughter of Joe Biden.

Prosecutors for the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the Southern District of New York said in a letter to a judge that Aimee Harris had “abused the administration of justice” by repeatedly providing inadequate excuses to the court that have caused her sentencing hearing to be rescheduled 12 times. They said the behavior warranted a harsher penalty.

Harris’s hearing has most recently been rescheduled for next week, and Judge Laura Swain has grown stricter with the defendant, warning last week that she could authorize a warrant for Harris’s arrest should she fail to appear. Harris is awaiting the sentence for her efforts to sell the diary of the president’s daughter ahead of the 2020 election.

Of course, in light of this story, the infamous diary and its contents have once again become a topic of discussion. As you likely remember, Ashley wrote in her diary that her father used to take showers with her at a young age that were “probably not appropriate.”

The diary also revealed that she thinks she may have been molested but can’t remember.

Naturally, left-wing journalist Ed Krassenstein came roaring to Biden’s defense this week regarding the diary.

Of course, what Krassenstein likely forgot is that Ashley Biden has confirmed the authenticity of the diary, and so far has made no claims that anything was manipulated. But, then he covers himself by saying, essentially, that, even if Joe Biden did shower with his young daughter, this was completely normal.

Do you know any fathers who shower with their young daughters? Have you ever known a pediatrician or child psychologist who has ever given this their stamp of approval? I get that this is an election year, but how is it possible that Krassenstein could possibly make this argument? Is the left so desperate to defend Biden that they’d downplay blatantly predatory behavior? Apparently, that’s where we’re at now.

WHOA, big fella, not so fast there. That’s where they’re at. Not “we,” not “us”—THEM.

Nota bene that Ashley’s diary wasn’t really “stolen” at all, despite Harris having pled guilty to the putative “theft” not quite two years ago, assumedly under tremendous pressure.

Harris first discovered the diary in the Florida home formerly occupied by Biden, according to the federal indictment. She and Kurlander later took the diary and other unidentified items belonging to Biden to a campaign official for former President Donald Trump, although the Trump campaign declined to purchase the items. The official instead recommended that Harris and Kurlander bring them to the FBI, according to the indictment.

Instead, Harris and Kurlander contacted Project Veritas, who flew them to New York and purchased the diary and other items for $40,000. However, both defendants expected Project Veritas to pay more for Biden’s property.

Bold mine. “Discovered,” unnerstand. Not purloined, not absconded with, not swiped, not jacked. “DISCOVERED.” Try as we might sometimes to avoid facing up to it, words still do mean things.

So in truth, Ashley Biden carelessly left her diary behind when she moved house—abandoning various personal possessions when doing the speed-skedaddle from one dingy ghetto flop to the next being a tack indigent, crackbrained drug addicts tend to take whenever they get three or more months behind on the rent—whereupon Harris moved in and

  • Found the “pResidential”-pR0n journal lying around
  • Scoped Ashley’s jarring first-person account of incestuous sexual abuse at the hands of a kid-sniffing creep with a long-established rep for predatory peccadillos and an insatiable yen for jailbait
  • Recognized the bombshell nature of the diary which, through no fault of her own, she suddenly had on her hands
  • Foolishly conjured she might easily glom herself a lifestyle-improving wad of whip-out in exchange for the horrid thing, at little to no inconvenience and/or cost to herself

Given the kind of petty, spiteful lowlifes the Biden Crime Family are known far and wide to be (with the possible exception of Beau, which might help to explain Pedo Jaux’s prideful obsession with him, repeatedly concocting garbled, ever more fanciful versions of his life and/or death, on the increasingly rare occasions he can remember Beau The Good Son ever even existed anywhere other than the interior of his own thick, empty skull), Ms Harris really should’ve known better.

Holding onto the diary with intentions of selling to the highest bidder rather than just attempting to return the blighted thing to its rightful owner was the culmination of a series of piss-poor decisions which wound up coming back to bite the person of apparently dubious character who made them—ie, Ms Harris—on the ass, HARD. Indecorous? Sure. Ill-considered? Indubitably. Greedy, self-serving, reckless, short-sighted? Check, check, check, and check. None of which is actually, y’know, against the law.

The whole mess is repulsive right down to the nth detail, leaving any halfway decent sort in need of a long, soul-cleansing shower to scrub away the Biden family filth. Certainly, Harris herself is neither angel nor folk hero. That said, though…stealing it? Not by any definition of the word I ever heard tell of, she didn’t.

Everyone involved in this putrid little melodrama is besmirched and befouled by his/her association therewith. So what, then, are we to make of a Lefty-hack “journalist” who is so sorely lacking in professional integrity, honor, and self-respect he would stoop to defending it, entirely for partisan political purposes? Worse yet, assuming he has a wife/lover/paramour/whatevs (I neither know nor care, who the hell knows), what kind of woman would be willing to wake up every morning beside such a foul, greasy piece of dung as he? The mind, it reels.

“OOOOH, titties!”

I scream, you scream, we all scream for…umm, “ice cream.” Some of us guys more girlishly than others.

The Damage Caused by Trans ‘Inclusion’ In Female Athletics: a Massachusetts Case Study
A single biologically male high-school student has invaded female categories in at least four different sports—negatively affecting hundreds of girls and women in the process.

“A 6’ Tall, Bearded Trans Basketballer Arrogantly Slams a Young Girl to the Ground—She Collapses in Agony,” was how Britain’s Daily Mail headlined the latest transgender sports scandal. Some may roll their eyes at the Mail’s sensationalist (and uniquely verbose) headline style. But in this case, at least, no one can accuse the newspaper’s copy editors of getting the facts wrong.

The author of that article was one Riley Gaines, a former University of Kentucky swimming star who now helps lead the campaign to protect women’s sport from transgender-identified males. It’s a cause I happen to support. As this Massachusetts high-school basketball controversy attests, male participation in female sports categories isn’t just unfair to girls and women. It’s often dangerous, as well.

One argument that’s commonly invoked in support of male-bodied “inclusion” in female sports categories is that, as Minnesota-based activist group Gender Justice asserts, “trans women are very much underrepresented in sport,” and “professional trans women athletes are extremely rare.” The idea here is that, no matter the obvious advantages that men have over women in athletics, few female athletes will be negatively affected by the handful of trans-identified males who choose to compete in categories that align with their gender identity.

And, to give these activists their due, it is quite true that most elite male athletes, even those afflicted with gender dysphoria, understand that they don’t belong in protected female spaces. It requires either a blinding sense of arrogance, or perhaps social cluelessness, for a man competing as a woman to fail to understand how disdained (and, in some cases, reviled) he will become if he insists on persistently invading female athletics—notwithstanding the forced displays of camaraderie and acceptance that affected women typically feel obligated to put on for the cameras.

Hey, anybody out there remember back at the beginning of this sudden surge—UNEXPECTED!©—of “concern” about the “rights” of “transgenders,” some of us saying that canonizing this mental disorder as if it were all not just perfectly normal and above-board but actually admirable would provide opportunities for loser-perv Manwomen to invade female sports locker rooms, Ladies restrooms, and other restricted spaces in order to indulge their own predatory urges?

Nah, me neither, musta dreamed it or something.

And it’s not just a question of who gets to go home with the medals. As demonstrated by the case of the aforementioned “bearded trans basketballer”—Massachusetts high-school senior Lazuli Clark—just a single male athlete who chooses to invade protected female athletic spaces can antagonize, intimidate, or endanger dozens, or even hundreds, of female co-competitors.

Thanks in large part to The Independent Council on Women’s Sport, an American-based advocacy group, almost 9-million people have seen the infamous video clip of Clark injuring a female opponent during a February 8 high-school basketball game. Clark, a student at KIPP Academy in Lynn, MA, also reportedly hurt two other girls during that same game. Following the third injury, the coach of the opposing team, Collegiate Charter of Lowell, MA, chose to forfeit the game rather than risk losing more players.

Basketball isn’t Clark’s only sporting pursuit. By my count, Clark has opted into female categories in at least four separate sports. (I am making a deliberate attempt to avoid describing Clark with pronouns, as it isn’t clear which ones apply. While many public news accounts of Clark’s exploits use “she” and “her” descriptors, a Saugus, MA-based Tae Kwon Do studio recently appears to have described Clark, who is apparently a “black belt student,” as “them,” suggesting a non-binary identity.)

Recently, Quillette received a leaked copy of an October 12, 2022 letter sent to the United States Rowing Association (commonly known as USRowing), the sport’s national governing body, in which 15 parents of elite female Massachusetts-resident rowers detailed their concerns about Clark.

In an interview with Quillette, one of the signatories reported that Clark joined the female rowing club in 2021, after placing poorly (“near the bottom,” by this parent’s account) with the club’s corresponding male team. Clark reportedly didn’t bother to shave or otherwise maintain the outward aesthetic pretenses of female gender identification, and even continued to wear the male club’s uniform.

In one documented 2022 incident, it is alleged, Clark walked into the girls’ changing room, spotted a female rower who was topless, and made a lewd comment about her breasts (“Oooh, titties”). As a result, documents reviewed by Quillette indicate, Clark was reported by team officials to the U.S. Center for SafeSport, a congressionally mandated body dedicated to “ending sexual, physical, and emotional abuse on behalf of athletes everywhere.” After SafeSport took action in late 2022, Clark never rowed for the club again—in either gender category. (Efforts to contact Clark or adult members of Clark’s family about these allegations, as well as other events described in this article, were unsuccessful.)

Bold mine, because…well, I really don’t have to say it again, do I?

Happy Day of Worshipping Visible Transgender cultists, Xtianist swine!

As promised, further examination of the ruling “Joe Biden” junta’s Satanic Easter edicts.

Good morning, kids. You’d think the stories over this weekend were just one big April Fool’s joke, and if you are of a certain age and more crucially of a certain mindset – that is, sane – the headlines would certainly come across that way. But, they’re not. And not just from this past weekend but really they’ve become more and more insane going back years.

This past weekend was the holiest on the Christian calendar. Easter. And yet the leadership of this nation, it’s figurehead being a senescent near-vegetable and criminal pervert, proved for all to see that there is indeed a war on Christianity and Judaism, and those who adhere to those twin pillars of real civilizational development. Or at the very least, those who reject the undeniable insanity of those who view themselves as gods and the absolute moral authority over this nation.

Example number one: Easter Sunday being transmogrified from the traditional recognition of the meaning of Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection into something that would be as enraging to Jesus as that of the moneychangers in the Temple 2,000 years ago.

Upon nailing his 95-year-old feces to the door of the church, the backlash against Biden’s apostasy was immediate, forcing whoever is changing his Depends and loading his teleprompter to issue a more or less traditional Good Friday greeting, albeit two days late.

No apologies or backtracking on this insult, though.

Said insult being the proscription against Xtianist-themed Easter eggs at the Stygian House’s annual children’s Easter egg-decorating festivities I went into here. Onwards.

Or how about this wonderful book in your toddler’s school library?

“This is My Vulva.” Made me think of the song I learned at that age nearly 60 years ago, “This is My Country.” That and the scene from Full Metal Jacket with the men parading around the barracks in their skivvies chanting “This is my rifle, this is my gun.” You may substitute the words as you wish.

So, no imagery of Jesus or Christianity on its holiest day. Why even have this event in the first place? The answer is simple: a display of raw power.

Annnnnd bingo. As always with these filthy blaggards, as I’ve said so very many times myself, sooner or later it all comes back around to that. JJ links to Wretchard’s brief blast.

“History doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes,” Mark Twain observed. Joe Biden’s rebranding of Easter Sunday as the Transgender Day of Visibility can be understood as part of a long line of efforts to replace a religious observance with state-sponsored ersatz.

These ersatz systems could take the form of state-sponsored atheism, state-mandated religion or even a completely invented replacement cult, like the French Revolution’s Cult of Reason. What explains this secular obsession with religion? Henry Kissinger pointed out that the two most powerful forces in history are the Conqueror and the Prophet. “The Middle East has been the chrysalis of three of the world’s great religions. From its stern landscape have issued conquerors and prophets holding aloft banners of universal aspirations. Across its seemingly limitless horizons, empires have been established and fallen; absolute rulers have proclaimed themselves the embodiment of all power, only to disappear as if they had been mirages.”

From the historical perspective, there nothing more interesting to “secular” government than religion. China, for example, is officially atheist, but you may join any one of 5 registered faiths. It is sort of like buying a gun. Clearly religion is dangerous. While secular ideologues often say that “religion is based on fear” and empty superstition, they are obviously afraid of religion and it is the first thing they suppress. I call this the “ghost problem.” “God? I don’t believe in no God,” we say with our eyes flitting from side to side. Then how comes you is skeered? The ghost haunts us notwithstanding.

Conquerors and Prophets are among the two most powerful forces in history. The principle difference between the two is the time scale of their message. Conquerors live the lifespan of empires while Prophets exist on the scale of civilizations. Two thousand years later, the Conqueror still fears the empty tomb.

Fears it, hates it, despises it, seeks to crush its spirit and trample its corporeal incarnation underfoot. Just as it does all things good, honorable, ennobling, and decent. Always has, always will; t’was ever thus—this, in fact, is the essential nature of tyranny, its true face, now and forever, despite whatever skin-suit it might momentarily don to persuade wilfully self-blinded fools otherwise.

As JJ notes in closing, it’s April Fools Day all right, but this ain’t no joke.

Update! Via Dave Renegade: how many special “days” glorifying their particular affliction, dysfunction, and/or sexual kink do these weirdos need, anyway?

The White House is claiming the Republicans are making too much out of naming March 31st Transgender Day. When you look at the list of all the days LGBTQ+ has already claimed, like Lesbian Visibility Day, the problem that surfaces is that they have so many days while groups like the Irish have but one – St Patrick’s Day, while the Italians have Columbus Day. People who died in war get only one day – Memorial Day. There is only one day for the Japanese. The Germans get their Steuben Parade. The Polish get their one day – the Pulaski Day Parade.

There is Mother’s Day in May. There is Father’s Day in June. There is also Parents’ Day in July. But there are no parades, and there is no Parent’s Day Month., Now, the words MOTHER and FATHER are offensive.

Many people are starting to get angry because, for decades, various cultures have been given one day—that’s it. There are so many days that it seems that whatever distinction in the LGBTQ+ community gets its own parade. The name Easter Transgender Day when you have Transgender Awareness, Transgender Day of Remembrance seems like the agenda here is covertly to convert as many people as possible to LGBTQ+ to reduce the population. It clearly has the OPPOSITE effect, for instead of creating less discrimination, it divides society into distinct groups that pit one against another. As I have warned, dividing society by INDENTITY is the #2 cause of countries collapsing.

Armstrong posts a stunning graphic illustrating just how far down this dismal road we’ve come already. “Stunning” not as in “pretty” or “visually appealing,” mind.

Apparently the above is for reals, not intended as humor, hyperbole, or satirical exaggeration in any way. I didn’t investigate to confirm, and ain’t gonna bother. I DO know that at least some of those “days” are on the official calendar of various federal, state, and local governments, and whichever ones aren’t as of yet soon will be, no doubt.

Ultimately, the A to the rhetorical Q posed above can be found in our handy-dandy Mike’s Iron Laws reference section.

  • Another of Mike’s Iron Laws: You cannot placate the implacable, nor sate the insatiable. It’s a mistake to even try
  • Mike’s Iron Law for dealing with the Left: They will never be satisfied, no matter what you yield up to them

Which in turn brings another MIL into play.

  • Mike’s Iron Law #1: Never cede ANYTHING to the Left, not a single goddamned thing

Learn it, love it, live it…or be destroyed utterly by it ere the end. Francis reveals the proverbial man behind the curtain.

I’ve ranted before about how the politicization of transgenderism has transformed it from something most people could safely ignore into a fearsome threat. I return to this as frequently as I do because it’s a near-perfect “demonstrator.” That is, as a category of human oddity it perfectly exemplifies the venomous power of the State.

Before the politicization of homosexuality, heterosexuals – 97% of the population of the United States – largely tolerated homosexuals. Yes, there were exceptions, some of which were horrifying and deserved to be punished. But the prevailing attitude was of tolerance and the maintenance of a certain distance. In social and sexual matters, homosexuals constituted a separate society. If they weren’t perfectly comfortable with that status, nevertheless they found it bearable…as did the heterosexual majority.

Things are not better now.

Homosexuality…integration…polygamy and polyandry…illegitimacy and “single-parent” households…“non-binary” sexuality…transgenderism… One by one these things groped for and seized political power and moved from the sphere of tolerable aberrations – ones whose existence we could acknowledge without being moved to pogroms – to forces that threaten not only social peace but the probable future of this country. The “frontier” today is bestiality and pedophilia. If there’s anything more looming behind the horizon, I’m not sure I want to know.

Today there’s an envelope-movement wrapped around the above and a lot of other things: “diversity, equity, and inclusion” or DEI. This is an explicitly political movement that seeks to force Americans to surrender what remains of our freedom of association. It’s an important component of the movement to nullify, de facto, the guarantees of the First Amendment. I doubt I need tell you what will become of us if that goes into the trash bin.

…Miss Robinson isn’t quite “on the right page.” What’s in the process of felling “America as it was” is the State’s application of political power to all those things. I’ll grant that normal Americans ought never to have “blessed” those things – the usual incantation is “not that there’s anything wrong with that” – but we were able to bear their existence, as long as we were permitted to choose our own associates without fear of some politician or bureaucrat intruding into those decisions. Some persons were excluded from others’ businesses, neighborhoods, and societies…but peace reigned. There were no riots and no violent disruptions. There were no desecrations of religious ceremonies. There were no crowds of “protestors” harassing those who dared to dissent from the “tolerance uber alles” gospel preached today.

The difference is the ambition – already fulfilled by some; still hoped for by others – to enlist the power of the State on the side of the aberrant movement. The State is nearly always happy to cooperate. Power, after all, is a statist’s top priority at all times. And when power can be used to create conflicts among the State’s subjects that the State can use to increase and extend its power…need I say more?

***

There is no Last Graf. The solution is the elimination of the State and its abjuration for all time to come…which, for the moment at least, is impossible. Yet it is the only solution with any endurance.

The “progressive” assaults on individuals’ right to be left alone – the supreme right that underpins all other rights – have united under the DEI banner. If we are to retain any shred of our original freedom, it must be fought a outrance. For it is the State – the 88,000-plus governments that infest America – that presses it upon us. It is their best weapon, for now at least, for completing our subjugation.

Anarcho-tyranny always moves toward ever greater tyranny. And April 1 notwithstanding, all of the above is meant seriously.

Funny, innit? Why, one might almost think some kind of nefarious plot or something was behind this whole shower of shite. But naaah, that’s just crazy talk. Right? RIGHT?

RIGHT?!?

Too old to rock and roll

Bruce/Ellen/Tilda, we hardly knew ye.

Bruce Springsteen returns to stage looking unrecognizable — and a little bit like Tilda Swinton
“Bruceeeeee!” — or Ellen DeGeneres?

Bruce Springsteen showed up to his first show in months looking unrecognizable — and a little bit like Tilda Swinton.

Dressed in a half-buttoned red flannel and dark jeans, the “Born to Run” musician, 74, returned to touring in Phoenix, Ariz., on Tuesday, after postponing shows due to his peptic ulcer disease.

Springsteen’s once-toned and tanned upper body appeared paler than usual, and he rocked stark white hair and a rather pallid complexion.

The pics are nothing short of chilling. In fact, in this one, he looks more than just a little bit like a certain ***”pRetend pResident”*** pinhead I could name, but won’t right now.

What can one say, really, but…YIKES!!!

Springsteen’s worldwide tour has been fraught with various medical complications since it was announced in May 2022.

In March, while touring in Albany, the New Jersey native was forced to postpone two of his shows after releasing a statement that said that the cancellation had been caused “due to illness.”

The following month, both Springsteen and his wife, Patti Scialfa — who was noticeably absent from Tuesday’s show — contracted COVID-19 and were forced to put a pause on performances.

Ferchrissakes, put a sock in it and go the fuck home, old man. I’m sure the servants at your palatial Nu Joisey mansion will have a nice pudding cup, a glass of warm milk, and a fresh Depends “adult undergarment” waiting for ya.

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