Church Militant

And not in the Dagger John Hughes sense, either. Not hardly. Quite the opposite, unfortunately.

Was St. Malachy Right?
These are hard times for conservative Catholics. For the past 60 years, they have had to watch their church gradually but steadily abandon many of its bedrock principles in what was at first an attempt to stay “relevant” but now looks very much a hostile takeover by the forces of relativistic “progressivism.” Under a series of weak and/or malicious popes, beginning with the unaccountably sainted John XXIII and continuing to the present day in the reign of the regrettable Pope Francis, the Church has abandoned its liturgy, its core beliefs, its traditions, its probity, and its sexual morality. Can things get worse? Of course they can.

Still, let us count the ways they already have hit bottom: During the Second Vatican Council between 1962 and 1965, much of the liturgy was “modernized,” starting with the traditional Latin Mass, called the Tridentine rite. No longer did the mass have to be universally celebrated in Latin, one of the faith’s two historic languages (the other is Greek); now it could be said in the local languages — a deliberate, disruptive balkanization of the faith that was in retrospect one of the first manifestations of the divisive “diversity” fetish that has taken hold in the West.

The priest, who formerly led his congregation by facing the elevated altar, now addressed the parishioners, thus making instant nonsense of his opening words, Introibo ad altare Dei — “I will go unto the altar of the Lord.” In the name of “ecumenicism,” distinctions between and among other faiths, including Judaism and rival Protestantism, were deliberately obscured. And the enormous library of sacred music, written over the centuries by some of the greatest composers, went onto the ash heap, to be replaced by mock-folk hymns sung by Peter, Paul and Mary imitators in order to get in synch with the folk-music revival of that period. It was all very current, now, hip, happening, and utterly awful.

Over the past couple of years, the first Jesuit pontiff, Jorge Bergoglio (an Argentine-born “progressive” Italian) has taken the strongest steps yet to outlaw the Latin Mass…

Last week the punitive primate fired a restive, rebellious American bishop for daring to challenge papal authority: “A statement from the Vatican posted online says ‘The Holy Father has removed Bishop Joseph E. Strickland from the pastoral care of the diocese of Tyler, United States of America.’ Replacing Strickland will be Bishop Joe Vásquez of Austin, according to the statement.”

Strickland, 65, has been publicly critical of Francis and the Vatican. He wrote an open letter in August suggesting the church’s “basic truths” would be challenged at a synod in September, and wrote that he believed an “evil and false message” had “invaded the church.” In another open letter the next month, Strickland addressed members of the LGBT community, particularly taking aim at trans people. “The transgender movement is another face of the LGBTQ agenda, and it is also at odds with the Catholic understanding of the human being,” he wrote in the letter.

It doesn’t help that Bergoglio is a Jesuit — a foundationally radical order that, according to Catholic insiders, has become a hotbed of homosexuality, which may account for this pope’s gay-adjacent theological preferences. Indeed, the Jesuits have distinguished themselves by their rampant apostasy during this parlous period for the Church. Their universities — Georgetown, Boston College, Loyola Marymount in Los Angeles, even Fordham — are among the most “progressive” in the nation, having largely abandoned their religious functions in favor of “diverse” secularism. Like Bergoglio, they’ve lost faith in their own faith — the end stage of any liberal enterprise.

None of this would come as a surprise to Malachy, the 12th-century bishop of Armagh and close confidant of Bernard of Clairvaux, the influential Benedictine abbot and one of the founders of the Knights Templar. While the canonicity of Malachy’s famous prophecies of the popes is roundly disputed (and I generally discount “prophecy” across the board), perhaps we should heed his words. The loss of faith at the top levels of the Church, the diminution of its adherents in the West — not to mention the weird rush to canonize the line of largely failed popes from John XXIII to John Paul II (strong on politics, weak on dogma), including the cipher, Paul VI — indicates an institution in serious trouble.

We might start with treating the Jesuits the way Pope Clement V did the Templars, dissolving the order and leaving them to the mercies of the French king, Philip IV, who executed their leaders in a grand auto-da-fe in 1314.

Not being Catholic myself, strictly speaking, I don’t feel myself qualified to offer much in the way of commentary or analysis. But for what it’s worth, I think Walsh just might be onto something there.

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You will be made to care stand up and cheer

As God is my witness, I thought trannies could fly.

No, thanks! Nearly 17,000 people sign petition slamming the ‘non-binary and transgender extravaganza’ Macy’s plans for upcoming Thanksgiving Day Parade
A petition organized by One Million Moms, part of the conservative American Family Association, says the event will expose ‘tens of millions of viewers at home to the liberal LGBTQ agenda.’

The sponsor of the event, the department store Macy’s, did not answer DailyMail.com requests for comment.

‘Shame on Macy’s for promoting and sponsoring this type of entertainment,’ the petition says.

‘We still cannot trust Macy’s Dept. Store. It is clear that Macy’s does not have our children’s best interests in mind. Macy’s needs to know that trust must be earned, and once trust is lost, it is difficult to get back.’

They take aim at the appearance of two trans Broadway stars among the parade line-up of Beagle Scout Snoopy, ‘Baby Yoda’ Grogu, and other giant balloons, marching bands, and clown crews.

They are Justin David Sullivan, a trans non-binary singer who uses ‘he/she/they’ pronouns, and Alex Newell, a biological male who presents as female and uses ‘all pronouns.’

As seems to be typical of these glorified transvestites, both specimens are decidedly unattractive, both physically and personality-wise.

The annual Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade has started the holiday season since 1924, pulling in more than 50 million television viewers as 3.5 million people line the 2.5-mile parade route through New York City.

The 2021 parade was the first to feature a transgender pop star, with German singer/songwriter Kim Petras performing her bubblegum number ‘I Don’t Want It At All.’

In a manner of speaking, the feeling is mutual, freakazoid: we don’t want YOU at all, either. 

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A little good news

Contra the self-obsessed blubbing of shitlib idiot and sportsball also-ran Megan Rapinoe, God is real, and He’s laughing His almighty ass off.

Guest Column: God Here. Megan Rapinoe’s Career-Ending Injury Is Proof That I’m Real.
I thought it would be hilarious, and it was.

KINGDOM OF HEAVEN—Hey, folks. God here. I’m writing in response to recent comments from Megan Rapinoe, a human female best known for playing the so-called sport of soccer, or “Satan’s Folly” as we call it up here.

Rapinoe invoked my name on Saturday after injuring her Achilles tendon in the opening minutes of the National Women’s Soccer League Championship. It was the final game of her professional career.

“I’m not a religious person or anything and if there was a God, like, this is proof that there isn’t,” Rapinoe told the demonic cretins you call journalists during the post-game press conference. “This is f—ed up. It’s just f—ed up. Six minutes in and I eat my Achilles.”

LOL!

I knew this would happen, obviously, but that doesn’t make it any less hilarious. The last game of Rapinoe’s career—the league championship, no less—and she injures herself immediately then has to watch her team lose from the sidelines. I’m still laughing about it.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Yes, I technically “created” Rapinoe and “love” her the same as all my “children,” even the ones who deny my existence. Even the ones who worship Satan and play soccer, to the extent there is a difference.

Nevertheless, I think we can all agree Megan Rapinoe is an obnoxious shrew who had it coming. Right? I’m willing to forgive almost anything, but one thing I simply can’t abide is disrespect for my country, the United States of America. Just ask Gabe Kapler or Colin Kaepernick.

Did I take it too far? Maybe. When the U.S. women’s soccer team protested the National Anthem during the World Cup earlier this year, I made sure they were humiliated by Sweden, an inferior country. I engineered it so Rapinoe, playing in her final World Cup, would contribute to the loss by whiffing a penalty kick, one of the easiest shots ever invented in the history of sports.

“That’s like a sick joke,” Rapinoe said after the crushing defeat. It sure was. “Sick” as in awesome.

Heh. Seconded from here below, dearest Lord. Many humble thanks for checking in and keeping Your obedient, devoted children hip to the Heavenly haps like this.

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Of Remembrance and forgetfulness

As Steyn notes, it’s a sad distinction.

The “Free World” the Leader purports to lead is increasingly like that, don’t you find? Stumbling around, unsure what it’s doing or why it’s here. In the years immediately after the Great War, “remembrance” was easy – because they were your sons, husbands, fathers, fiancés, and they’re not around. Then the decades roll by, and for newer generations, even though you never met those you’re “remembering”, they’re still your great-uncles or great-grandfathers, and thus part of the bond that connects you to your country and its inheritance.

And then a few more decades drift on and now we’re all multicultural, and diversity is our strength, and a nation is no more or less than whoever happens to be standing around in it, like Gate 87 at Heathrow or LAX. And the bond is non-existent – because the Glorious Dead are not your kith and kin – and, even if they were, you’ve been taught since kindergarten that they were irredeemably racist and colonialist.

Yet it is surely significant, after a month in which stooped, aged Royal British Legion poppy-sellers have been bullied and shoved away from their traditional street corners and railway stations, that this hideous, treacherous constabulary could not bring itself to show any kind of solidarity with the old soldiers.

And even the Met’s official evenhandedness – of trying to ensure that both the Royal British Legion and Hamas get to share the public space – is taking a side, is it not? Because it enables Islam to achieve its aim – of appropriating one of the most solemn days in the national calendar for its own purposes. Islamic supremacism does nothing by accident: the end of the Great War was also the end of the Caliphate and the dawn of a fractured Middle East under the French and the British, who promptly put a Jew in charge of their “Palestine” mandate.

Whether hijacking Armistice Day should be legal or illegal, it would not, in a healthy polity, be considered seemly. That’s why I always quote the otherwise wholly forgotten Lord Moulton, Director-General of the Explosives Department during the First World War, and his observation that the health of a society is determined not by what is permitted or prevented by law but by what is self-regulated by the citizenry in “the realm of manners”. In the realm of manners, the citizenry don’t need a law forbidding competing groups from swamping and desecrating Armistice Day because you couldn’t find enough people willing to do anything so obviously inappropriate. But multiculti diversity rots out the realm of manners – because the population no longer has enough in common to sustain social cohesion and so you need an ever bigger and more powerful state to mediate the competing interests of different identity groups.

And, of course, these groups are not static. Some are in decline, some are in the ascendant. What happened this weekend is not so very difficult to figure out. As some “niche Canadian” wrote almost two decades ago, the future belongs to those who show up. Well, on the streets of London, the future showed up.

It did at that, among all too many other places. Quelle surprise, that it turned out to look even bleaker, darker, and more dismal than even the worst pessimist among us feared it might.

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FINALLY!

The Nazis take London.

80 Years After Hitler Failed, Nazis Finally Seize London
LONDON — Eighty years after Hitler’s failure, the Nazis have at last seized London.

“Hitler’s dream has finally come true,” said John MacDonald, watching as Picadilly was overrun with Nazis. “You just know that somewhere, Hitler is looking on today and smiling.”

As chants of “Death To Jews” and “Final Solution” rang through the London air, longtime Nazi leader Josef Schmidt was overwhelmed with joy. “After so many decades of being an outcast here in Britain, to now watch Nazis march through the heart of London yelling ‘Gas the Jews’ – well, it brings a tear to your eye,” said Mr. Schmidt. “I’ve had to hide my swastika flag for years, but no more! We’re going out for a triumphant walk right by Buckingham Palace.”

At publishing time, the London mayor was warning the Jewish community to refrain from engaging in hateful Naziphobia.

As of presstime, probably but not necessarily owing to his having died years ago, Brit fascist irritant Oswald Mosley was unavailable for comment. And, just to make it more difficult than it already was to discern whether the Bee is in fact satire, there’s this…

Newsom Deploys Giant Can Of Febreze Over San Francisco To Mask Poo Smell
“Come on, people! We’ve got to hide the aroma of dookie,” Newsom was heard shouting at city workers. “It’s fine for the city to reek of excrement under normal circumstances when it’s only Americans walking around trying to live their lives, but when a communist authoritarian comes to town, we don’t want him stepping off his plane and being greeted with a strong whiff of caca.”

The Chinese president was scheduled to arrive in the Golden Gate City today ahead of next week’s important U.S.-China summit with President Joe Biden. With much riding on the meeting of two of the world’s superpowers, Newsom wanted steps taken to address the city’s problems with cleanliness and its homeless population. “Governor Newsom wanted us to come up with a final solution to the homeless problem,” said one San Francisco official who asked to remain anonymous. “With that in mind, we’ve started rounding up all the homeless people so they can be concentrated in specially designated camps. We even transported them with their piles of poop so they will still feel at home.”

At publishing time, the giant can of Febreze was being positioned to begin spraying a wide radius across the city, with many residents secretly hoping the city’s areas densely populated with deodorant-resistant hobos would take a heavy dousing.

Parody? Reality? Is there really any difference anymore?

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Eyrie up!

It’s another Screamin’ Meemie Monday over at the CF Substack Adjunct, featuring a few of my own personal favorites which I hope will soon become yours as well. Don’t miss it if you can, people! Who says Mondays always suck, anyhow?

Happy Memorial Day!

As ever, Pedo Pete is a bit confused.

Biden suffers ANOTHER embarrassing gaffe as he stumbles through Veterans Day service and appears to get lost while laying a wreath

  • Biden appeared confused at Arlington National Ceremony to mark Veterans Day
  • The president, 80, needed stage directions after laying a ceremonial wreath
  • In his remarks, Biden said ‘war and conflict’ are ‘part of the American story’

Biden was joined at Arlington National Cemetary by Harris, First Lady Jill Biden and Second Gentleman Doug Emhoff to celebrate the armed services.

Speaking before members of the Armed Forces and Gold Star families, Biden began: ‘Here in Arlington lie heroes who gave what President Lincoln called ‘the last full measure of devotion.’

‘They did not only die at Gettysburg or in Flanders Field on the beaches of Normandy, but in the mountains of Afghanistan, the deserts of Iraq in the last 20 years.

‘Hundreds of graves are here from recent conflicts. Hundreds of patriots gave their all, each of them leaving behind a family who live with their pain and their absence every single day.’

He added that veterans are the ‘steel spine of this nation’, and recounted famous battles that saw soldiers ‘linked in a chain of honor that stretches back to our founding days.’

‘This Memorial Day, we honor their legacy and their sacrifice, duty, honor to their country.’

Saturday’s service was the 70th annual National Veterans Day Observance at Arlington, and followed a private reception in the White House East Room for veterans and military officials.

What a sad, sorry joke this senile old kleptocrat is, was, and shall remain.

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The “climate change” Trojan Horse

In this as in everything else, it’s never really about what they tell you it is.

I have thoroughly debunked the idea of man-made climate change in previous articles and I won’t be spending time on that here. Instead, I want to examine the end goal of climate change policies – The ultimate solution, which is NOT to save the planet, but to dominate the populace.

The names used for the climate change “reset” vary, but it is often referred to by globalists and the UN as Agenda 2030 or Sustainable Development Goals. These programs wear a facade of environmentalism but they are ALL rooted in economics. That is to say, all climate change efforts exist to destroy industry and trade and establish a government/corporate partnership to dominate production. Climate change is a Trojan Horse to introduce authoritarianism.

I believe one of the most important aspects of Agenda 2030 for globalists is something called the “15 Minute City”; a project which involves hundreds of city mayors from across the US, Europe and Asia working closely with groups like the World Economic Forum. Any mention of this idea in a negative light and the media erupts with anger as well as mockery as if it’s not a real issue worthy of debate.

The establishment paints an interesting picture of 15 Minute Cities – A Utopian future in which everything you need is only a short walk away and private transportation is superfluous (or banned). You might even live in mega-complex, much like a giant mall where you also work. You could spend months within one square mile of space, never having to leave for anything.

It’s no mistake that this idea was pushed hard during the pandemic lockdowns. The public was awash in fear propaganda over a virus with a 99.8% survival rate and that fear made the unthinkable idea of staying at home all the time suddenly thinkable. Media pundits continue to call the connection between covid lockdowns and climate lockdowns a conspiracy theory, but the idea is openly admitted in UN and WEF white papers.

Some people argue that most cities are already “15 Minute Cities” with necessities all within walking distance of their homes. These folks don’t understand what a 15 Minute City really is. As numerous establishment descriptions of the project note, it’s not just about convenience or close access, it’s about changing every aspect of our current philosophy of living. It’s not about gaining amenities, it’s about making an array of sacrifices in order to appease the gods of carbon emissions.

The 15 Minute City is more like a recipe, containing every single ingredient of the climate change and covid lockdown agendas in a single comprehensive Orwellian vision. It includes removing motor vehicles, removing private transportation and roads, smart city and AI monitoring of each person’s electricity usage, monitoring of product consumption and “carbon footprint”, biometric surveillance within a compact and stacked urban landscape, the cashless society concept, equity and inclusion cultism, population control, etc.

It is the culmination, the end game; a massive prison with no bars. A place where you are conditioned to grow accustomed to artificial limitations on privacy, no civil liberties, no private property, and no work options or mobility. You are tied to the land and the land is owned by the state (or corporation). If you want a historic comparison, the closest I can find is the feudal system of Medieval Europe.

It’s important to understand that these compact cities will not be designed for your comfort. They will not be designed so that you can have all the amenities you have today closer to your fingertips while also providing “sustainability.” That’s how the globalists try to sell it, but that’s not what it will be. Rather, these cities will be designed to better CONTROL you, so that you can be forced to make the sacrifices they say are necessary for sustainability to be possible.

They are erroneously billed as “decentralized communities,” but they are the exact opposite – They are utterly centralized, like a hamster cage where you are the pet. The core philosophy behind them is dependency. If you live in a place which is specifically constructed to eliminate your ability to provide for yourself, then you are a slave. Though, to be sure, even slavery can be made to look noble if people are convinced that their chains are necessary for the good of the planet.

Thanks to these bloated, endlessly grabby, monstrously-powerful governments, the world becomes a scarier, more threatening place with every passing day, don’t it? Why, it’s almost as if the Founding Fathers actually knew whereof they spoke when they so vehemently warned future generations against the dangers of permitting their central goobermint to outgrow the box it originally came in or something.

Lisa Liberal splutters hysterically: but…but…but…HOW COULD THEY POSSIBLY HAVE FORESEEN (fully semi-automatic assault weapon riflepistol guns at every WalMart, available for purchase by any man, woman, or child with no background check, waiting period, permit, or registration required AT ALL, EVER/unlimited-capacity self-reloading magazine clips/Cop Killer bullets/shoulder thingy that goes up/heat-seeking .50 caliber incendiary rounds/GAIA-raping ICE automobiles/rural electrification/deadly gas ranges/insert Leftard bugbear of the month HERE)?!?

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Will, or the lack thereof

Pursuant to today’s Eyrie outing, TL has a few thoughts.

It occurs to me that there is a lot easier way to deal with illegal immigration than we have tried so far. Trump implemented something like this with his “Remain in Mexico” policy. Granted, the reason the US has been unsuccessful in stopping illegal immigration comes not from a lack of ability or understanding of how to build a wall, but from the lack of desire. The regime in power wants to dilute the strident patriotism of the average American. After several generations of working away at the elementary school level to erode love of country with propaganda, the communists have thrown in the towel and went for straight importation of foreign nationals to accelerate the timeline to 2024.

For those few who still seek to end illegal immigration, one way of achieving that is to bill the nation of origin for the accommodation of their illegals in the United States. One proposal is to charge a hosting fee. For every 10,000 citizens of another nation that has slithered their way into the US, $5 billion per year would be billed to the home country.

I understand the temptation to jump on this proposal immediately for all of the obvious flaws, but taking those into account one has to understand the dynamics of the proposal.

Of course, they would refuse to pay it. That goes without saying, but that’s part of it. What happens when they don’t pay? The bill keeps doubling every year. As the famous quip goes: “A billion here, a billion there, pretty soon you’re talking about real money.”

The liable nations would claim that it’s the job of the United States to prevent people from getting into their nation illegally and that’s true, but the organized caravans in those other nations were intended to, and did, overwhelm the US efforts to patrol their border. These are not ones and twos, perhaps a family here and there.

The NGOs operating the bases and organizing the caravans do so with the blessing of those nations, in conjunction with cartels. They, too, should shoulder some of the burden and pay part of that $5 billion. It’s up to the host nation to extract it from them.

Personally, I’d start fining the NGOs $1 million per week until they ceased.

I like it. I like it a lot.

But what accounting is done? How would someone know where the people came from in order to bill the appropriate nation? Simple, whatever passport they have, that’s who gets billed. What if they have no passport, it got lost, or damaged? We’ll take their word for it. If they say they are Mexican, for example, we’ll accept that. That’s the border they crossed, wasn’t it? That would be the natural assumption and we wouldn’t want to be racist. Just because they look Somalian, that doesn’t mean we should leap to the conclusion that they aren’t Mexican.

When it comes to asylum-seekers it’s even easier. The nation of origin is documented, it has to be to do the paperwork. Also, the nation of origin made conditions such that these people felt the need to leave. Now, if we were Obfuscatistan, we might not be able to impose such a hosting fee on these nations, but we’re not, we’re the United States. We have diplomatic pressure, economic pressure, trade pressure, foreign aid to be withheld to pay the debts. We have all sorts of ways to enforce it.

What we do not have, is the will. The whole idea of freedom of speech is to force the government to have the will. Ultimately, that’s what the United States Constitution is all about. Through several different means, especially the Bill of Rights, we were given the ability to force government to do the people’s will. All of the machinations of government over the past several decades has been designed to eliminate that from the system. That’s no reason to give up. You have to fight to keep your voice. You shouldn’t have to, but you do.

True, dat. Read the rest of it; there’s a plethora of excellent ideas to mull over here, and I couldn’t agree more with every word—which is almost always the case with TL, at least for me.

It occurs to me that what surely underpins the ennui and lack of will he’s talking about is something we might dub Everyman’s Despair: the deep, abiding sense of hopelessness; the strong suspicion that no matter what Joe Lunchpail might do or say, he will never climb out from under the crushing weight of his own oppression. FederalGovCo is just too big; agencies like the FBI, the CIA, the DEA/ATF, the IRS, et al are just too tenaciously entrenched and empowered to dare oppose, lest the Swamp do to him what they’re even now doing to those poor J6 “insurrectionists.”

Is Joe wrong in that enervating assumption? I only wish I could say he was; at present, alas, I cannot. He’s roundly mocked and derided for being complacent, apathetic, or even cowardly, but if he seeks refuge in his weekend grill-out, watching the Big Game on TeeWee over a case of cheap suds, and tries as hard as he can to ignore politics altogether—to just keep his head down, his ass covered, and his mouth shut—is it really fair to blame him for it?

When your government has openly declared itself your enemy you’re in a really bad fix, no mistake about it.

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Eyrie up!

As mentioned last night, the Substack scheduled for Friday but delayed due to yesterday’s sundry ordeals and tribulations has now gone live, a day late but in no wise a dollar short. The springboard for “Housing crisis” is Brandon Smith’s perorations on and suggestions for resolving the artificially-created shortage and skyrocketing expense of housing currently afflicting the nation. An appetizer:

 If there ever was a clear-cut case of “taxation without representation,” we’re living it—surrounded by it, besieged by it, in fact. Real Americans damned well better pull up their big-boy pants and wake up to the simple fact that, in Mordor On The Potomac, they have no friends, no allies, and no voice. Period fucking dot.

He’s right that the last desperate hope is at the State level, although I won’t speculate on the likelihood of success there. If that’s the only realistic hope remaining to us, though, then certainly it should be tried. A campaign aimed at bending local and State governments to the Real American will has the added appeal of being precisely the preferred path the Founders commended to their posterity when they penned the Constitution and Bill of Rights, also.

Read, subscribe for free or fee, comment, share it with friends, family, and neighbors, all the usual hoo-ha.

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Happy Armistice/Remembrance/Veterans Day!

The eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, by tradition, the time and date in 1918 the Armistice bringing hostilities to a close was scheduled to go into effect.

Armistice Day, later known as Remembrance Day in the Commonwealth and Veterans Day in the United States, is commemorated every year on 11 November to mark the armistice signed between the Allies of World War I and Germany at Compiègne, France, at 5:45 am for the cessation of hostilities on the Western Front of World War I, which took effect at 11:00 am—the “eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month” of 1918 although, according to Thomas R. Gowenlock, an intelligence officer with the U.S. First Division, shelling from both sides continued for the rest of the day, ending only at nightfall. The armistice initially expired after a period of 36 days and had to be extended several times. A formal peace agreement was reached only when the Treaty of Versailles was signed the following year.

The date is a national holiday in France, and was declared a national holiday in many Allied nations. However, many Western countries and associated nations have since changed the name of the holiday from Armistice Day, with member states of the Commonwealth of Nations adopting Remembrance Day, and the United States government opting for Veterans Day. In some countries Armistice Day coincides with other public holidays.

As might easily have been foreseen, at least according to the usual 20/20 hindsight, the War To End All Wars did no such thing; a mere twenty years later, the folly of indulging such wishful thinking would be established for all time.

Closely juxtaposed with Veterans Day every November 11th, there’s another martial anniversary well worth remembering for American patriots: the founding—in a bar, natch—of the philanthropical and charitable organization revered far and wide as Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children.

Here are some badass stories to help ring in the Marine Corps’ birthday
When Samuel Nicholas was tasked with raising two battalions of Marines in Philadelphia, he knew just where to go: a bar.

Nicholas headed to Tun Tavern that fateful Nov. 10 in 1775, and — so the traditional story goes — the Continental Marines were born.

Two hundred forty-eight years later, Tun Tavern is gone, but the Marine Corps is still around.

Happy birthday, Marines. Before you head out to your local birthday ball, celebrate with this roundup of some of the great things Marines have done since turning 247.

Marines step up in malls, embassies and Chick-fil-As
In December 2022, Marine recruiter Staff Sgt. Josue Fragoso and applicant Scott Elliott were going through paperwork in a California mall when they heard glass shattering. They proceeded to nab two suspects who apparently were in the middle of a smash-and-grab heist of the mall’s jewelry store.

In April, three Marines who had recently graduated from Marine embassy security training at Quantico, Virginia, broke up a fight during a lunchtime excursion to a nearby Chick-fil-A. One of the Marines, Lance Cpl. Nicholas Dural, managed to break an alleged assailant’s knife in half.

Then Dural went to get a haircut — and didn’t tell his barber what had just happened.

“I try to be as humble as possible,” he told Marine Corps Times.

Obstacle course is no obstacle for 4-foot-7-inch Marine
The 4-foot-7-inch Pfc. Nathaniel Laprade made it through boot camp at Parris Island, South Carolina, in September, becoming possibly the shortest U.S. service member ever.

Many of the obstacles in the obstacle course were taller than Laprade, but he made it over without much trouble. He just had to jump a little higher, he said.

Laprade said of his peers in boot camp, “I think they kind of looked up to me in a way. I had one recruit, now a Marine, who told me that I was his motivation.”

During his enlistment process, Laprade heard from recruiters about Richard Flaherty, a 4-foot-9-inch Green Beret who became known as the “Giant Killer” for his service in Vietnam.

“The main part that inspired me was that he was Army and 4 foot 9 inches,” Laprade said. “If I go Marines when I’m 4 foot 7 inches, I will beat him in two ways.”

More still at the link, just a few among so many wonderful stories of Gyrene aplomb, pluck, and derring-do that form an important part of Marine Corps history. And lest we forget, there’s also the legendary Marine’s Marine Chesty Puller.

Lewis Burwell “Chesty” Puller (June 26, 1898 – October 11, 1971) was a United States Marine Corps officer. Beginning his career fighting guerillas in Haiti and Nicaragua as part of the Banana Wars, he later served with distinction in World War II and the Korean War as a senior officer. By the time of his retirement in 1955, he had reached the rank of lieutenant general.

Puller is the most decorated Marine in American history. He was awarded five Navy Crosses and one Distinguished Service Cross. With six crosses, Puller is second behind Eddie Rickenbacker for citations of the nation’s second-highest military award for valor. Puller retired from the Marine Corps in 1955, after 37 years of service. He lived in Virginia and died in 1971 at age 73.

Again, just the lead-in to a much larger, longer story.

7 Legends About ‘Chesty’ Puller, the Most Decorated Marine in US History
Lewis “Chesty” Puller (1898-1971), was a 37-year veteran of the USMC, ascended to the rank of lieutenant general and is the most decorated Marine in the history of the Corps. He served in World War II, Haiti, Nicaragua and the Korean War. The concrete facts surrounding his military service are astounding, but his grassroots legacy is carved out by stories echoed through generations of Marines that sound crazy enough to be true only for Puller.

His Nickname “Chesty” Came from the Legend that He Had a False “Steel Chest.”
There are many legends surrounding how Lewis “Chesty” Puller got his nickname. One says that it came from his boisterous, commanding voice that was miraculously heard over the sounds of battle. There are even some that say that it is literal — and that his chest was hacked away in the banana wars and replaced with an iron steel slab.

“All Right, They’re on Our Left. They’re on Our Right. They’re in Front of Us. They’re Behind Us. They Can’t Get Away This Time.”
This is one of the most iconic quotes from Puller. His men were completely surrounded, and what initially seemed like doom would soon be revealed to them as the beginnings of victory.

He Always Led by Example.
Puller famously put the needs of his men in front of his own. In training, he carried his own pack and bedding roll while marching at the head of his battalion. He afforded himself no luxuries his men did not have — usually meaning a diet consisting only of “K” rations. When in New Britain, Papua New Guinea, legend has it that he slept on the bare floor of an abandoned hut and refused to let the native people make him a mattress of banana leaves. And he always refused treatment when wounded until his men had been attended to.

The traditional American nation, battered, bruised, and bloodied as it now is, will always have need of such men, as many of them as it can possibly get. Amerika v2.0, on the other hand, is not only incapable of producing them, but actively scorns and shuns them, favoring…well, other, far lesser breeds, shall we say.

Happy birthday, Marines, and many happy returns. May God bless and keep you all.

USMCNormal

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Practical advice

Now THIS is news you can really use.

9 Ways To Scare Off Californians Looking To Move Into Your Neighborhood
Wait a minute, is that young couple looking for a home in your neighborhood from California? You better get them out of here pronto before they turn your beautiful state into a socialist cesspool! If you don’t, you’ll both have to look for a new state to move to in about ten years after they bring their California politics with them.

These are the absolute best ways to scare off a Californian:

  1. Smile and wave at them: Californians hate this! They might even be killed in the process.
  2. Offer them sweet tea: They will instantly become diabetic just by looking at a full pitcher of Southern-style Sweet Tea. As an added bonus, the polite gesture will also scare them (see above).
  3. Show off a cool gun you’re packing: They will freak out even though this is only one of the guns you are packing. The others aren’t as cool, sadly.
  4. Ask them where they are going to church immediately after meeting them for the first time: It’s normal to do that where you’re from, but this question is basically kryptonite to a Californian.
  5. Invite them to your church this Sunday: (Same as above)
  6. Show them your house and the several acres you live on: Their brains literally can not comprehend the idea that a family of four isn’t crammed into a tiny studio apartment. It will seem icky and wrong to them for it to be any other way.
  7. Point out how many houses in town have American flags: Once they notice this little detail, they will react like vampires to the sun coming up at dawn.
  8. Start talking about what they can expect when winter rolls around: They are only used to one season that lasts all year round and you may need to explain the concept of winter several times before the horror for them really sets in.
  9. Show off your Trump 2020 and 2024 bumper stickers: This is sure to send them back to California in absolute terror.

Helpful, effective, to the point, indisputably true and reliable—is it any wonder the shitlib “mainstream” media hates the Bee so much?

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Publick Anooouncemente

All posting, including tonight ’s Eyrie thang, will be pushed back until either later tonight or possibly even tomorrow. Heading out in just a bit for the BCHS football game to check out my daughter’s performance, then bringing her back home with me afterwards for the weekend. Big doin’s which I’m very much looking forward to, back with y’all soon as I can be.

Update! Well dammit, that did not go at ALL as planned. First, my friend Zach got hopelessly lost on the way down to pick me up; called me, tried to tell me where he was while the wife and young ‘un talked all over him in the background, and I couldn’t make heads nor tail of where the bleedin’ hell that boy might be, since I’m way out in the boonies and not just terribly familiar with the area my own self. So, he finally gets straightened out somehow, makes it to my dismal shack, and we proceed to hightail it with all due haste up to Bessemer.

On arrival at the high school after much tail-chasing, recrimination, and assignation of blame, we try to find an entrance to the football field (we could see from the road that the game was already well under way, just couldn’t see a way to get in and parked and all). No helpful signs or arrows or anything along those lines, mind, that would apparently have made this business entirely too easy.

We drove slowly through an open gate close behind the home-side bleachers where we could see several cars parked up. Some quasi-official dood hustles his fat ass out, flags us down, and informs us we ought to go back around to the main entrance. Which has a handicapped ramp, see. Which, in my current sad, crippled condition, is not optional. Which condition Official Dood had noted, bless him.

So we did that thing.

We drive to the main entrance, park up, unass the vehicle, and go up to the front doors as told. We try each of the four doors; all locked, natch. As we made our way back out to the car scratching our heads in befuddlement, a young feller opens one of the doors, bellows a hearty halloo, and waves us inside. We go in and he accompanies us down a long, wide hall, around a bend, and right over to the main office. Wherein a white-haired, security-guard looking fellow (no uniform, but sometimes you can just kinda tell, y’know?) says we should go back around the building to the parking lot we’d just left, wait by the line of parked buses for him to join us, and he would be out in a jiffy to personally guide us to exactly where we needed to be.

By then, Madeleine’s role in the evening’s festivities had concluded. She had arranged with her band director to duck out early with us so’s we might get her on back down to chez Hendrix at a reasonable hour. So as we were ambling over to the bus line wondering just what the fucking actual fuck, here comes my kid walking towards us from the far side of the parking lot. She caught our frazzled attention with a big smile and a wave, the four of us piled into the car, and we got the hell out of Dodge posthaste.

To tot up the results of this decidedly snakebit foray, then: No marching band halftime show. No marching band music. No Friday night high school football. Much confustication, aimlessness, and futility. Contradictory instructions from friendly folks who were just trying to be helpful. Lots of driving and milling around. Some time spent exploring the after-hours-vacant, dimly-lit corridors of a school building I have no particular fondness for or connection to, other than that my daughter will be attending classes there next year. Then, it was back home again safe and sound for this intrepid if hapless bunch, sadder perhaps but none the wiser for the experience.

All in all, NOT one of my more productive evenings. Ah well, whatchagonna do. Even so, on the trek back to South Cackalacky—chatting and laughing and rehashing events merrily as we rolled past quiescent farms, cheerily lit homes, and closed businesses—we all agreed that, despite none (0, not any) of our best-laid plans for the night having actually come to fruition, the whole rigmarole of a busted-play of a clusterfuck of a shit-circus had still been a lot of fun. We have no plans to do it all again next year.

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CF Glossary

ProPol: Professional Politician

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

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

Mordor On The Potomac: Washington, DC

The Enemy: shitlibs, Progtards, Leftards, Swamp critters, et al ad nauseum

Burn, Loot, Murder: what the misleading acronym BLM really stands for

pAntiFa: an alternative spelling of "fascist scum"

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FREEDOM!!!

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David Black, from Turn Left For Gibraltar

"If the laws of God and men, are therefore of no effect, when the magistracy is left at liberty to break them; and if the lusts of those who are too strong for the tribunals of justice, cannot be otherwise restrained than by sedition, tumults and war, those seditions, tumults and wars, are justified by the laws of God and man."
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