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They don’t have any idea what is next. There is a next.

Posted on January 3, 2026January 4, 2026 by Barry

The Venezuelan operation was a complete surprise – to Venezuela, to our own press, to our enemies around the world. There are no moles inside the Trump administration. There were no leaks, anywhere, to anyone.

What is next? They don’t know. Our enemies are very uncomfortable today.

Update: There are reports that leaks occurred to the NYSlimes and Washington Compost, bu they declined to report prior to the operation. True? Beats me. It was a large operation involving many people so I would not be surprised that someone told someone that told the two fake news organizations, but I do not believe they had any details to report, and that would be the main reason for a non-report.

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Der Bingle

Posted on December 31, 2025 by Mike

A Christmas story for the ages, one that exemplifies courage, character, and unswerving commitment to the non-negotiable demands of personal honor, patriotic duty, and obligation.

Late in Bing Crosby’s life, his nephew Howard asked him a casual question while they were out playing golf together.

“What was the single most difficult thing you ever had to do in your career?”
Howard expected Hollywood stories. Maybe gossip about a demanding director. Perhaps… pic.twitter.com/KGKfTgAVmu

— Farm Girl Carrie 👩‍🌾 (@FarmGirlCarrie)

December 30, 2025

“Show more,” my saggy, baggy ass.

Late in Bing Crosby’s life, his nephew Howard asked him a casual question while they were out playing golf together.

“What was the single most difficult thing you ever had to do in your career?”
Howard expected Hollywood stories. Maybe gossip about a demanding director. Perhaps the pressure of a high-stakes film production or a struggle with studio executives.

Bing didn’t have to think about it at all.
December 1944. Northern France. The war in Europe was grinding toward its bloody conclusion.

Bing Crosby was on a USO tour, performing for American GIs and British soldiers far from home during the coldest, darkest days of winter.
That night, they set up an open-air stage in a field.

Fifteen thousand soldiers gathered to watch. Bing was joined by Dinah Shore and the Andrews Sisters.
They sang, they joked, they made the men laugh and holler—a brief moment of joy in the middle of a war zone.
Then came the closing number.
“White Christmas.”

The song had already become an anthem for homesick soldiers since its release in 1942. It played constantly on Armed Forces Radio. Men who hadn’t seen their families in years, who didn’t know if they ever would again, heard those opening notes and thought of snow-covered streets and Christmas trees and the homes they’d left behind.

As Bing began to sing, he looked out at the audience. Fifteen thousand men were crying. He had to finish the song. He had to maintain his composure and his vocal control while 15,000 soldiers wept in front of him. He told his nephew it was the toughest thing he ever had to do in his entire career.

What made Bing Crosby’s USO performances different from his Hollywood appearances were the small choices he made. He refused to wear his toupee. He hated the thing—called it a “scalp doily”-and wore it only when absolutely necessary for films.

But entertaining troops was different. “If I’m entertaining troops,” he said, “I’m not going to wear anything phony like a toupee. Forget it.”

He also insisted that officers and brass could not sit in the front rows. Those seats were reserved for enlisted men. The soldiers who would be on the front lines. The men who faced the greatest danger.

A few days after that performance in the field, those same soldiers were sent into combat. The Battle of the Bulge began on December 16, 1944. It was the largest and bloodiest battle fought by the United States in World War II.

The Germans launched a surprise offensive through the Ardennes Forest in a desperate attempt to split the Allied lines. Many of the men who had wept listening to “White Christmas” in that field in France never came home.

Bing Crosby tried to enlist when the war began. He was told he was too old. General George C. Marshall, the Army’s chief of staff, told him directly:

“Look, Bing, we don’t need you in the front lines. We need you raising money for the war effort.” He wasn’t just an entertainer to them. He was a piece of home. Bing never forgot it. 🙏♥️

Leftists who viscerally hate anything that reminds them of what America once was have smeared Bing Crosby as a nasty, hateful racist, bully, and two-bit tyrant who viciously ran roughshod over others and used his wife and children as punching bags—a distorted, unidimensional portrait which disgracefully omits the man’s finer qualities.

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In praise of…pit bulls?

Posted on December 31, 2025December 31, 2025 by Mike

These excellent but overly-maligned doggehs are due some, that’s for sure. But, as those of us who have had pitties before already know, almost all of what the congenitally dishonest, pig ignorant “they” say about the breed isn’t remotely true.

The Jews of the Canine World
Pit bulls have been unfairly stereotyped as genetically dangerous monsters. Sound familiar?

I’ve always loved dogs that look like pit bulls: wide and smiling faces, goofy expressions, broad chests, sturdy bodies, short coats, enthusiastic tails. I grew up not knowing about dog fighting, or about this breed’s vicious reputation. My terror was reserved for German shepherds (my equally frightened little brother tremulously called them “sheffers”), with their pointy, mean faces and loud barks. There were some territorial ones in the yards in my Providence, Rhode Island, neighborhood.

But after moving to New York, I came to understand that pit bulls are hated. My little East Village copy shop, where we got Josie’s bat mitzvah invitations, has a big, short-coated, wide-chested, flat-faced dog behind the counter. His name is Curtis. He comes when you call and accepts head-pats with dignity. But when I asked the owner, Santo, what kind of dog Curtis was, he hesitated. “He’s a mix,” Santo said. “Terrier, other things … pit bull.” He clearly was reluctant to say those two words. He thought I’d recoil.

You know what people say about pit bulls: Violence is in their genes. They have double rows of teeth. Their jaws can unhinge like a snake’s. Their jaws lock after they bite. They don’t feel pain the way other dogs do. In 1987, U.S. News and World Report called them “the most dangerous dog in America,” able to “chomp through chain-link fences.” The Guardian called pit bulls “dogs of war who can bite through concrete.” Time called them “time bombs on legs” and started a story on them with a quote from The Hound of the Baskervilles:

Fire burst from its open mouth, its eyes glowed with a smouldering glare, its muzzle and hackles and dewlap were outlined in flickering flame. Never in the delirious dream of a disordered brain could anything more savage, more appalling, more hellish, be conceived than that dark form and savage face.

A friend had her family dog genetically tested, and when she discovered it had some pit bull lineage, she gave it away. Her kids sobbed. But what if the dog just lost it one day? That’s what pit bulls do, right?

None of this, of course, is true. Bronwen Dickey’s fascinating new book Pit Bull: The Battle Over an American Icon charts the evolution of pit bull stereotyping. (It begins with a quote from André Gide: “There are very few monsters who warrant the fear we have of them.”) In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, pit bulls were considered the family-friendliest dogs. Dogs that looked like them served in the Battle of Gettysburg and in Normandy. One accompanied Laura Ingalls Wilder’s family in their covered-wagon journey across the prairie. Helen Keller owned and adored one. Another (named Votes!) accompanied suffragist Virginia Watrous on the campaign trail in 1915. Still another starred in the “His Master’s Voice” campaign for RCA and another in the “Our Gang” kiddie comedies. Dickey observes that pit bulls were then seen as “quintessentially American: good-natured, brave, resilient, and dependable.” But within a few decades, they’d become DNA-driven vicious beasts, “biologically hardwired to kill.”

My first dog was a pittie, as was my last, along with a few others in between—the last one being just the sweetest ol’ girl ever to walk on four legs and shit in the backyard and tremble like a leaf in a gale during thunderstorms: the late, great Cookie (Monster). A photo of my dear, departed friend: Pretty girl, no? When I took her to the Gastonia, NC animal shelter to be put down at not quite 16 years of age, after the attendants had put her in the little cart and wheeled her off and inside to do the dirty deed I sat out in the parking lot and cried like a disgruntled infant for well over two hours. I still can hardly believe my darling pupster is gone, and I miss her still.

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In praise of meat

Posted on December 31, 2025 by Mike

Or, in this benighted day and age, it might be more appropriate to say “in DEFENSE of” etc etc. Which, as the title of the article shows, the author knows well enough.

In Defense of Steak: Listen to Your Body, not the Bug People
There is a particular smell that quiets a room or backyard: beef hitting heat, butter melting, fat crackling over open flame. Conversations pause. Children wander closer. Adults become very present, childlike in their eagerness. Something ancient has briefly reclaimed priority.

This response appears across cultures, centuries, and cuisines, persisting despite decades of scolding lectures about moderation, sustainability, and restraint. No one salivates at the thought of cricket flour. No one waxes poetic about lab-grown protein slurry. Even people committed to eating less meat tend to speak about steak the way one speaks about a lost love. We are told this reaction, this anticipation of pleasure, reflects indulgence, weakness, or conditioning, but a simpler explanation exists.

Pleasure can be information.

Indeed so, and there’s every bit as much solid, useful information in this piece as there is pleasure in eating a fat, juicy filet mignon. For example:

Meat is often treated as interchangeable with whatever happens to meet a protein target, as though nourishment were merely arithmetic. This misses what meat actually is: an exceptionally efficient nutritional delivery system shaped by evolution to meet human needs with minimal friction.

Animal protein arrives complete, providing all essential amino acids in proportions the body immediately recognizes and uses. Absorption is high. Muscle repair is straightforward, using precisely the amino acids our meals just provided. No pairing, combining, or supplementation is required. Fat, so long maligned, provides stable saturated and monounsaturated fats that slow digestion, stabilize blood sugar, support hormones, and carry fat-soluble vitamins. Speaking of fat, humans did not spend thousands of years figuring out how to obtain more fat because it was harming them.

Then there are the nutrients rarely discussed in fashionable debates but central to human function: vitamin B12 for neurological health, heme iron that the body absorbs efficiently (iron in supplements or vegetables is poorly absorbed), zinc for immune function and growth, creatine and carnosine for muscle and brain performance, choline for liver and cognitive health. These are not optional extras. They are foundational for good health and a properly functioning body.

Claims that humans do not “need” animal protein hinge on a technicality. With careful planning, supplementation, fortified foods, and modern logistics, it is possible to assemble these nutrients without meat. That is not equivalence. It is compensation. A diet that requires constant vigilance to avoid deficiency is not revealing a hidden natural balance; it is leaning heavily on modern intervention and often industrially manufactured frankenfood.

I repeat: indeed. Butbutbutbut…but…WAIT, they whine. What about Eating Ze Bugs, shitlib fascists snivel. Wilson outs paid to that codswallop with a quickness.

Insects are often presented as the logical successor to meat, reduced to the claim that they “contain protein” and are therefore interchangeable. Biology is less accommodating.

Insects contain chitin, the substance that forms their exoskeletons, which humans do not digest well. Chitin inflates protein numbers on paper while reducing absorption in practice because it resists breakdown and in fact interferes with nutrient uptake. From a nutritional standpoint, counting chitin as protein is a bit like counting fingernails as food: it contains nitrogen, which looks impressive on a label, but the human body cannot do much with it. Edible, yes. Nourishing, not really.

Digestive discomfort after eating bugs is common enough that most insect products are heavily processed into powders, undermining both nutritional and environmental claims. Amino acid profiles vary widely by species, but they all tend to be lower in key amino acids such as leucine, which plays a central role in muscle maintenance and repair, particularly as people age.

Micronutrients present further problems. Vitamin B12, heme iron, and creatine are unreliable or absent, requiring supplementation to compensate. Allergy risks are also underplayed, as insects share protein structures with shellfish. Insects are edible, certainly, but edible is not the same as optimal, and bug protein is not in any way an upgrade over beef, chicken, or fish.

Annnnnd bingo, there you have it. Myself, I don’t give a fiddler’s fuck about how smart the person telling me to switch from steak to cricket paste thinks he/she/it is, I simply ain’t gonna do it.

There’s only one song I can think of that will suit.

Tell it true now, Jim.

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Send in the clowns

Posted on December 30, 2025December 30, 2025 by Mike

Don’t bother, they’re here.

New York magazine writer stumps Zohran Mamdani, top aides with ‘cost of living’ question
A magazine reporter stumped Mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani and his closest advisers with a question about lowering the cost of living in the Big Apple.

Mamdani and his crew didn’t have an answer when a New York Magazine writer asked for a comparable city as the democratic socialist waxed poetic about his lofty “principle” of bringing down the cost of living in the five boroughs.

“I asked him and some of his advisers if there were cities that had pulled this off that New York could emulate, places that had managed to meaningfully lower the cost of living. None sprang to mind,” the article stated.

“Talk to policy experts, and they find the prospect laughable; the only cities where this has happened are ones where the quality of life dropped so dramatically that no one wanted to live there anymore.”

Point being…? What with the recent mass exodus of the last pitiful handful of sensible, intelligent souls from the ruins, NYC is already sprinting just as hard and fast as it can for the very bottom of that particular fly-blown dungheap. And with commie nitwit Zsa Zsa “A job? ME?!?” Mammyjammy at the wheel, you gotta like their chances. Taking the checkered flag in this particular race is nothing to get excited about, certainly. Even so, purblind City dwellers had better make the most of it and enjoy the Booby Prize while they can—this will be the last victory New Yorkers will have for a long, long time. Après MammyJammy, le déluge.

Clearly, the above-mentioned New Yorker hack didn’t get the memo: you never, but NEVER, ask a Socialist a question about economic policy. They know about as much on that subject as famous retard Tampon Timmeh! Walz does about string theory, therefore are sure to make a dog’s breakfast of the whole enterprise.

Sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, gang, but after all the years, all the tears, and all the predictions of imminent doom which turned out to be a trifle premature, New York is truly over and done with. You only get so many spins of the cylinder before a loaded chamber comes up, so many goes at taunting the tiger before the tiger chews you to pieces and spits you out. About three weeks worth of MammyJammy (mis)rule ought to put the final nail in NYC’s coffin. Resilient as the City has proven itself to be time and again, selecting as Mayor a dull-witted, silver-spoonfed Muzzrat Richie Rich who has never worked a day in his useless life is a self-inflicted wound from which Noo Yawk Fuckin’ City will not recover.

Trump must continue to hammer the point home like a broken record: there will be NO bailout, NO federal relief programs, NO FederalGovCo knight in shining armor riding up on his snow-white charger to pull NYC’s chestnuts out of the fire in the very nick of time. New Yorkers, having voted for the assclown MammyJammy overwhelmingly—a landslide romp which, in effect, bestows one of the strongest mandates ever on an egomaniacal muttonhead who is singularly illl-equipped to wield it judiciously—now have no one but themselves to blame for what they’ll soon be getting. Let them get it then, Mencken-style (ie, good and hard), until they’re so completely downcast that the humiliation of this latest and greatest folly in a long and distinguished line of foolish, impenitent acts of municipal auto-annihilation shall be seared into their collective memory forever.

May New Yorkers rue the day they made such an suicidally-unwise choice. May the impending catastrophe scar them so indelibly they will be driven to reconsider…well, damned near everythiing, actually. May the enduring pain of this experience burn away, like a chill morning fog, their abiding arrogance; their deep-seated superiority complex; their ahistorical ignorance; and their counterfactual assumptions. May the sight of their once-majestic City burning all around them—collapsing into violence, lawlessness, and anarchy thanks to their own infantile prejudices and delusions—inspire them at long last to embrace humility, contrition, and thoughtfulness.

And if that doesn’t work out, just build a 40-foot high, razor-wire-topped, concrete wall around Manhattan, post armed guards along the perimeter, shut off the electricity, rename it Manhattan Island Federal Penitentiary. Then, should PoTUS’s chopper go down inside the Wall, send Snake Plissken in to bring the blaggard back out again.

Golden oldie

Posted on December 30, 2025December 30, 2025 by Mike

So a cpl weeks ago I resurfaced on Fakeberg, after a VERY extended absence. I never did much like FB and still don’t, but being effectively housebound now it seemed to me that the cursed thing would be an excellent way to stay in touch with friends I’ve otherwise pretty much lost contact with. Anyhoo, as I was scrolling down through the old posts on my main page, I ran across something I thought was just way too cool.

“Conservatism is the Ramones at CBGB – loud, fast and alive. In contrast, liberalism is the headliner at a state fair concert. It’s Foghat, serenading its anesthetized fans as America slow rides into decline.

Back in the 70s, the Ramones put a steel-toed boot into the behind of a fat, flabby rock ‘n roll world that has lost its way. That’s what conservatives are doing today to American politics and culture. And the dinosaur rockers of the status quo hate it.

Look at ancient Hillary Clinton, that improbable Millennial heroine. She’s the Bachman Turner Overdrive of American politics, out there literally taking care of business – especially the businesses who take care of her by paying her hundreds of thousands a pop to come talk to them.

There’s no energy left in liberalism, no excitement, just more rules, more controls, everything the punks hated. You can’t say this, you can’t think that, everybody read the memo – today we’re scheduled to be angry at people don’t want to subsidize our birth control! Oh, and make sure you obtain a videotaped, notarized consent form before you kiss your cisgender hook-up.

Everything about liberalism is stodgy, everything is old, everything is about control. My new book, Conservative Insurgency, a speculative future history of the struggle to retake our culture, shows how the conservatives have the all of the energy and creativity. We want the freedom the punks demanded. The liberals want the opposite. The quintessential liberal isn’t a free-spirited manic pixie dream girl but a grim, bitter nightmare crone enraged because having gender-specific bathrooms in her dorm is history’s greatest hate crime.

Liberalism never tries anything new. It’s a greatest hits album from a crappy band. It’s like the latest incarnation of Styx when whoever the lead singer is announces, “Hey, here’s something off our new album” to the widespread groans of the fans. They just want to hear the classics – more regulations, more taxes, more dough for public employee unions, more stifling of innovation.”

My old and dear friend Rusty Ellis posted this on my Timeline back in July of this year; according to Crusty Rusty, I had Fakebooked it myself some years back, he was just reposting it. Got no inkling where or how I mighta run across the original item, but seeing as how it’s wrapped in quotation marks I’m sure I didn’t write it myself. Whatever the case may be, it hits the nail right square on the noggin, I must say.

Update! It appears that the above is an excerpt from a 2014 Townhall column by Kurt Schlichter. Man, talk about your Golden Oldies…

Righteous rip

Posted on December 30, 2025 by Mike

Is there anything in all the world as clever, creative, and devilishly ingenious as an old-school biker? I think NOT!

Heh. Saw something along similar lines years ago at the Myrtle Beach Spring R&ally, on a Big Twin parked up in a metered space across the street from the Pavilion. Difference being, on this one the trailer-hitch ball was mounted atop the back fender of a gorgeous Panhead bobjob, right behind the solo seat where the bitch-pad would usually be. Around the hitch-ball, in traditional tattoo-script lettering, were the words, “Ride THIS, bitch!” Too, too funny, I thought.

Brings to mind the time some drunk hooer followed me out to the bar parkig lot hoping to cadge a ride with me on my bare-knuckle 71 FLH. After a lot of the usual sniveling horseshit, the bint wanted to know where the sissy-bar was, as if I’d somehow contrivde to hide the stupid thing. Now, I‘d never had a fucking sissy-bar on my old Shovel and never would if I had anything to say about it. I always built my bikes to be lean, clean, mean, and fast. No frills, no flash, no BS.

And no passenger seat or sissy-bar, neither. You wanna ride bitch behind me, babe, then go snag a cpl-three hand towels from the bartender, fold em up nice and tight, and tuck ‘em under your ass for a cushion. Alternatively, you could just ride the damn fender, latch onto something solid and secure, and hang on for dear life. Either way works for me, I already KNOW where I’ll be sitting.

So naturally, I turned to face the woozy, boozy broad and rasped, “Sorry, this bike ain’t for sissies.”

As the T-shirts used to have it: chrome don’t get ya home, loud pipes save lives, there’s no replacement for cubic-inch displacement, and horsepower is its own reward. Twist on the loud handle until that ornery old Milwaukee Mule cackles like a fat bitch, in Goose’s unforgettable words. Another thing he used to say after a bunch of us had been out TT (Tavern-to-Tavern, that is) racing and were ready to head on back to the shop: “These other mopes think they ride hard, but when me and you put a bike back in the barn after a good putt she’s breathing heavy, drenched with sweat., and her tongue is hanging out two or three feet.” Coming from Goose, I knew that was praise indeed.

Q&A

Posted on December 30, 2025December 30, 2025 by Mike

The “Q” I’ll put in boldface, in the excerpt; the “A” will follow.

Mamdani-Backed Socialist Trashes July 4, Says Independence Day ‘Means Nothing’
A New York State Assembly candidate who carries the official stamp of approval from Mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani and the Democratic Socialists of America is facing heavy criticism after comments resurfaced in which she trashed the Fourth of July and other American holidays. How much more do the people of New York need to see to understand that the far left hates them and the country, values, and way of life they take for granted on a daily basis?

A: A gargantuan majority of NYC dwellers being dyed-in-the-wool Leftards themselves, they not only know already, they also agree a billion kajillion zillion percent with the expressed sentiments which the PJM scribe finds so abysmally shocking. NYC has been one of the principal havens for Goosesteppin’ Leftists and their demented ideology since the 60s at least, if not well before, and it isn’t remotely likely that that will be changing anytime soon, if ever. See also Shitcago, San Fransicko, El Lay, Ausgrim, Seassole, et al.

It’s an urban thang, see; you hicks from the sticks wouldn’t understand, and shouldn’t even try lest you embarrass yourselves horribly.

All this squawk-squawk here lately about Moslem rapefugees failing to adjust and acclimate themselves to the culture they’re overrunning, when practically every lackwit Progressivist baglapper infesting Western Civ is in even worse need of a healthy dose of assimilation their own foul selves.

“Your world means nothing to them”

Posted on December 30, 2025December 30, 2025 by Mike

Makes us even, I suppose; their world means nothing to me. Less than, actually.

Jean Raspail, mass migration, and the meaning of civilisational surrender
Your world means nothing to them. They won’t try to understand. They’ll be cold. They’ll be hungry. They’ll build a fire with your lovely oak door… Every object will lose the meaning you attach to it. What’s beautiful won’t be beautiful anymore.

In 2015, German Chancellor Angela Merkel famously declared “Wir schaffen das” (“We can do this”) as she opened Germany’s borders to a mass influx of refugees. Over a million asylum-seekers, mainly from Syria, Afghanistan, and Iraq poured into Europe amid the continent’s worst refugee crisis since World War II. Supporters hailed Merkel’s open-door stance as a humanitarian duty, but critics warned of economic strain, cultural clashes, and security risks. In the decade since, Europe has indeed grappled with rising migrant crime and social tensions. But beyond the high-profile incidents of violence, everyday indignities have also come to symbolise the cultural disconnect.

One striking example occurred in Brussels, a migrant was caught frying eggs in a pan over the Eternal Flame at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, a memorial honouring Belgian soldiers fallen in World War I. Just weeks earlier, another migrant had been arrested in Paris for lighting a cigarette using the sacred flame under the Arc de Triomphe. Such acts of casual disrespect, unthinkable to the native population fuel public outrage and raise questions about the boundaries of tolerance in European societies. The Brussels incident, in particular, became a viral image on social media, seen by many as a metaphor for how Europe’s heritage and heroes are treated by newcomers who “have no business” being in those countries. While some observers chalk it up to individual homelessness or ignorance, others view it as a grim sign of cultural insensitivity fostered by years of unvetted mass immigration.

These episodes of desecration, however low-level, provoke a visceral reaction because they touch on something deeper than law-and-order. They reflect a erosion of respect for European history and identity under the pressures of uncontrolled migration. It is as if the “eternal flame” of Europe’s memory is being used as a mere campfire by those with no connection to the sacrifices it represents. This sense of humiliation is keenly felt by many Europeans, especially when they remember that countless young men died in the world wars to defend the very civilisation now seemingly taken for granted. Indeed, if those fallen soldiers could see a foreign vagrant cooking his dinner on their memorial flame, would they think their sacrifice was worth it?

To ask the question is to answer it, methinks.

These are merely the opening ‘graphs of a damned excellent (albeit highly discomfiting) article, of which you will definitely want to read the all.

I’ve had an eBook copy of Camp of the Saints sitting on my phone for a good long while now. It occurs to me that I really need to get started reading the darn thing, I’ve waited quite long enough. Key takeaway lines:

Beyond politics, Raspail’s novel and Europe’s real migrant tensions both underscore a fundamental cultural clash. The clash is not simply about religion (though Islam’s spread in Europe is a major factor) but about worldviews, nations and social norms. Camp of the Saints suggests that our civilisation is not communicable to these people, that many of the newcomers neither understand nor respect the ethos of the West.

By George, I think she’s got it. “Not communicable to these people,” though? Oh, I’m afraid it’s a great deal worse than that: it is anathema to them;. Not only do they not “respect” Western Civ, they positively abhor it as innately and irredeemably degenerate, wicked, and outright evil.

Leadership

Posted on December 29, 2025December 29, 2025 by Mike

Despite the hair-do (good God, what is UP with that rats’ nest, anyway?!?) I LOVE this guy.

Argentina’s Javier Milei Says He ‘Deeply Admires’ Trump, Supports Venezuela Naval Strikes
Argentine President Javier Milei emphasized his admiration and support for American counterpart Donald Trump in an interview with the British Telegraphon Monday, praising Trump as a peacemaker and clear-minded leader.

Milei also suggested that he would support American military efforts against the illegitimate narco-regime in Venezuela, led by dictator Nicolás Maduro – and, further, that the demise of both the Venezuelan regime and its patrons in Cuba would bring a net benefit to humanity.

President Trump has authorized significant military action against drug traffickers linked to the Maduro regime in the Caribbean, including “Operation Southern Spear” targeting drug-carrying boats believed to be trafficking cocaine. He also announced in December that he would declare the Maduro regime itself a terrorist organization and blockade Venezuela’s attempts to transport sanctioned oil, citing the expropriation of American company properties by Maduro and predecessor Hugo Chávez.

Milei spoke to the Telegraph in the context of that newspaper’s world leader rankings, which placed Milei in third place; the newspaper has yet to reveal who it placed in the top two spots, though Milei was preceded by Syrian jihadist President Ahmed al-Sharaa in fourth place. Milei responded to questions about his assessment of the second Trump administration and his relationship with the American head of state, asserting that he “deeply admires Trump” and praising him for having “managed to end nine wars.” Milei had revealed in October that he nominated Trump for the Nobel Peace Prize during a visit to the White House. This year’s award ultimately went to Venezuelan freedom fighter María Corina Machado, who dedicated her award to Trump.

Milei assessed that Trump’s strength lay in the fact that “he is someone who is very clear that the enemy is socialism.” Milei himself, the first president anywhere in the world to win the position as an explicitly libertarian third-party candidate, has also spent much of his career condemning socialism as a plague that “infects” the world, one of the many arms of what he refers to as “collectivism” that also includes communism, social democrats, and other variants.

Preach it, Mr President, sir. In another encouraging development elsewhere, Chile has upped its game as well with a liberty-, tradition-, and capitalism-oriented President of its own.

Chile’s new president, Jose Antonio Kast, is good news for the U.S.
Trump is in a position to create a true freedom bloc with his new friend in Chile.

President Donald Trump has rightly put his finger on several countries with poor leadership, especially in the E.U. with its failures controlling illegal immigration, managing its own national defenses, and maintaining a robust domestic economy.

But some good news has emerged in a critical Latin American country that has listened to its voters, and taken back the kind of fundamentally conservative, national priority policies that President Trump stands for.

The U.S. needs smarter partners in the world economy, and Chile has just become one of them: a new potential ally in reasserting a stable international order, based on fundamental principles of national sovereignty and independent strength. Chile’s election also gives confidence to the rest of Latin America that destructive socialist ideology can be successfully defeated.

José Antonio Kast has a strong pragmatic background.

Even the New York Times couldn’t overlook his prospects (“Conservative Wins Resoundingly in Chile’s Presidential Election, December 14th), and that Chile is thereby creating a larger conservative realignment among other neighboring countries including Argentina and Bolivia.

Kast ran on reversing violent crime, and deporting undocumented migrants that, like the U.S., have flooded his country. He remains unapologetic about his larger Catholic values, and has focused on social order and economic development. Chile has a strong pedigree in economic innovation, and those prospects have been reignited.

Good on ya, President Kast. The world needs as many like you as it can get, most especially after the disastrous run of inept, corrupt, and sleazy Leftist national “leaders” we saw over the past several decades.

What’s the big idea?

Posted on December 29, 2025December 29, 2025 by Mike

Vivek Ramalamaswamabamadingdong has some peculiar ideas of his own.

As it’s our final show of the year, I’d like to keep it a little more focused than usual – and concentrate on the existential question now facing some of the oldest continuous states on earth: what is a nation? At AmFest and in The New York Times, Ohio gubernatorial candidate Vivek Ramaswamy returned to his contention that America is an “idea” and, if you’re onboard with the “idea”, you’re as American as anybody else. One might formulate the “idea” as a “dream”, as Vivek does:

It is called the American Dream for a reason. There is no Canadian Dream. There is no British Dream. It sounds kind of goofy to say it. There’s no Chinese Dream, okay?

There is, however, a Somali Dream – of moving to Minnesota and opening a state-funded daycare.

On the right one can find opponents of all this dreaminess, but Vivek has no time for them and is reading them out of the movement:

I think the idea of a heritage American is about as loony as anything the woke left has actually put up. There is no American who is more American than somebody else.

So a Daughter of the American Revolution is no more American than the daughter of a Minneapolis daycare owner. This would come as news to the fellows who wrote the Preamble to the US Constitution in order to “secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity”. Which, oddly, seems to be how the Somali fraudsters look on it, if you substitute “Blessings of Public Funding” for “Liberty”.

One notes that America rose to global dominance during Calvin Coolidge’s four-decade immigration “pause”. Since then, alas, the US has been busy not only “proposition”-ing itself into a one-way ticket on the oblivion express, but exporting that proposition to the rest of the west’s hitherto conventional “ethno”-states (a qualification that should not, strictly, be necessary), to the point where countries no one thinks of as “nations of immigrants” are about to see their native peoples dispossessed of their ancestral homelands – Sweden and Austria, for example.

Meanwhile, in the United Bleephole, Keir Starmer made it his “priority” to bring “back” to the country a “British” “citizen” who had been gaoled in Egypt for the crime of …well, I’ll let Sir Keir, a man entirely without irony or self-awareness, explain it…

Follows, a truly spectacular blast of multiculti Tourettes from Blightey’s all-time worst PM, after which Steyn picks up the thread again.

The “Briton” in question is a man who believes in the “extermination” of white people, which is apparently no obstacle to all the most eminent white people, from beloved “national treasures” – Bill Nighy, from Love Actually; Judi Dench, M from the Bond films; my old Loose Ends colleague Stephen Fry – and all the most deservedly reviled “right-wing” Conservatives – Sir Iain Duncan Smith – demanding he be brought to England to live at public expense.

It would be rather funny, don’t you think, if his “extermination” of white people began with those listed above…but, if it goes as it usually does, I expect he’ll get you instead.

And should you show fight or attempt to resist in any way, you will be bunged into chokey for the duration, after which the entire episode will be whitewashed, swept under the Establishment rug, and studiously forgotten—by the media, by the cops, by the government, by your neighbors, by pretty much EVERYBODY, really.

This is the round-robin process by which shithole countries become shithole countries, see.

Nope, you’ll bend over and take your medicine without complaint if you know what’s good for ya, chum, or, y’know, else. It’s the same old story, with the same old denouement, namely:

To repeat: in the next decade-and-a-half, there will be nothing recognisable as the western world absent the deportation of tens of millions of people.

And as we all already know, the Western world will just have to grin and bear it, because said mass deportations—although eminently justified, appropriate, lawful, and reasonable—ain’t ever gonna happen. Seriously, people, how could they, when the selfsame maefactors responsible for bringing them in would also be responsible for booting them out?

In the end, we’re left with the same old conundrum, as expressed in another spot-on Steynism which posits that this mishegas isn’t any kind of mistake, misfire, or miscalculation. No, this is how things are because this is how our Lords and Masters WANT them to be. It isn’t merely happening to us; it’s BEING DONE to us—on purpose, with malice aforethought.

Update! Ace has plenty more on the execrable Starmer’s pet “cultural enricher,” and it’s every bit as bad as you’d expect, maybe even worse.

The UK just welcomed back a true Cultural Enricher who had previously been arrested in Egypt.

The UK actively campaigned for his release and his return to England.

The man routinely calls for the murder of Jews and “colonialists” of all kinds as well as for more “suicide bombings” and more murders of police.

He routinely declares how much he hates “white people” and how they, get this, need to be killed and dominated.
Oh and he also declared his intent to “take over ur towns and rape ur women.”

But I mean that’s obviously just a “joke,” as he says now. No Muslim migrants would ever take over British towns or rape British women. Obviously he’s just being satirical or something.

As is his wont, Ace’s mordant wit is astute enough, piercing enough, to incline me to just go ahead and laugh along with him. But in a very real sense, there’s nothing whatsoever funny about the situation.

Updated update! From the last Xweet Ace includes in his post:

NEWS: Egypt are planning to revoke the citizenship of Alaa Abd El-Fattah so he will be stuck in the UK

Sources inside the Egyptian Government have said this is to embarrass Keir Starmer and warn Britain not to pressure Cairo over human rights-related cases in the future

HUH. Kinda interesting, no? Looks like our own perfidious Powers That Be aren’t the only ones working a plan here.

Vichy GOPers get RESULTS

Posted on December 29, 2025December 29, 2025 by Mike

Just not ones anybody much wants.

Minnesotans Complained to RINO Congressman Years Ago About Somalis. This Is the Response They Got.
Back in 2023, the Republican Conference in the House of Representatives nominated Rep. Tom Emmer (RINO-Northwest Somalia) to be speaker of the House. Once and future President Donald Trump, however, was less than pleased with the prospect of Emmer as speaker, and said that the “globalist RINO” from Minnesota was “totally out-of-touch with Republican Voters.” Trump worked hard against Emmer’s bid to be speaker, and when Emmer dropped out of the race, Trump took a victory lap, saying: “He’s done. It’s over. I killed him.”

Emmer wasn’t quite politically dead; he didn’t become speaker, but he did become House Majority Whip, a position he still holds. Nevertheless, Trump was right. Emmer was indeed totally out of touch with patriotic voters, as he showed when embattled Minnesota residents tried to bring him their complaints about the massive influx of Somalis into the state. Now that those Somalis have perpetrated a multi-billion-dollar welfare fraud scheme, Emmer’s callous indifference to their concerns looks even worse than it did when he first yawned in the faces of his worried constituents, and chided them for not being more open to diversity.

The Daily Caller reported Monday that back in July 2015, Emmer hosted a town hall event in St. Cloud. Before a packed house in a local bar and grill, one of Emmer’s besieged constituents told the globalist RINO that most of the attendees were there in order to “find out how you feel about assimilation of immigrants.”

The man pointed out the obvious fact that everyone is ignoring, telling Emmer: “We did not ask for those Somalis. Nobody asked us if we, in St. Cloud, want those Somalis. And we understand that social groups, like the Lutheran social service and the Catholic charities, they’re dumping them in areas like St. Cloud.”

That was worthy of a careful and respectful response in itself, but the man continued on, asking Emmer: “OK, and so the question is, how many more are coming? We didn’t ask for these people. Everybody that you read about is talking about this. So that is a main issue in this city. There is no control. The people have no control over any immigration. The mayor doesn’t. I don’t know.”

This was ten years ago, when it was still taken for granted that those who expressed opinions that dissented too sharply from the left’s agenda would be publicly shunned, deplatformed, and silenced. The idea that someone could object to an inundation of unvetted migrants from a jihadi hotspot was still inconceivable in the minds of establishmentarians, and Tom Emmer is and was nothing if not an establishmentarian.

And so Emmer responded to these perfectly reasonable questions and concerns by pushing back against the alleged racism of the questioner. The Minnesota resident must have been suspicious of the Somalis because he was white and they were brown, right? After all, what other possible reason could (he) have had to be suspicious? Emmer went on to insist, in all-out don’t-believe-your-lying-eyes mode, that Somalis were one of “the fastest-assimilating populations.” This prompted groans from his audience, with one man summing up what no doubt many people there were thinking: “Oh, you gotta be kidding me.”

Pure politics as usual…and purely despicable. How much longer will Real Americans allow these reindeer games to go on?

On hiatus

Posted on December 29, 2025 by Mike

Almost forgot to hip y’all to this, but my brother from another mother Big Country is taking a well-earned respite from not just the BCE blog, but from all things Innarnuts, because reasons. Don’t be a-skeered, dont be alarmed, he’ll be back when he feels like it.

Use your illusion

Posted on December 29, 2025 by Mike

First, there was this:

Which led, as these things will do, to the inevitable chaos and anarchic frenzy:

The Daily Donnybrook, and other fine things

Posted on December 29, 2025January 12, 2026 by Mike

Welcome to Ye Aulde Colde Furye Blogge’s shiny new open-comments thread, where y’all can have at it as you wish, on any topic you like. New posts will appear below this one. There will be blood… Betazo

Mike @Substack

New Eyrie posts go up every Monday and Friday, although the time of day may (and most likely will) vary. Mike’s latest Eyrie offering is available for perusal here: ““Here’s who’s really behind the Minneapolis ICE resistance movement.” Links to archived Golden Oldies are findable down at the bottom of each post.

Please do consider subscribing to The Eyrie, gang; it’s free, unless you’re feeling big-hearted enough to pony up for a paid sub. Either way, paying customer or freeloading looky-loo, an Eyrie subscription is a bargain at any price, a move you won’t ever regret making.

All subscribers receive email notification whenever each new post goes live, although CF management promises not to blow up your inbox with a bunch of junk mail. Latest Eyrie offering is getatable (yes, that’s really a word—trust me!) for one and all to read and enjoy totally free of charge, regardless of subscriber status. However, a paid sub is required to unlock commenting privileges—an almighty incentive to kick loose and chip in if ever there was one. Thanks, everybody!

Mike @Substack

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