The war started without you

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Without asking if we were ready for it, nor even if we wanted the damned thing. But then, war has a longstanding habit of doing things like that.

Trans Days of Violence
Gender ideology + violence = terrorism.

One month ago a heavily-armed, 28-yr-old female named Audrey Elizabeth Hale, who identified as a transgender male, literally shot her way into a Nashville private Christian grade school called Covenant and murdered three nine-year-old students and three adults before police terminated her and her rampage.

Hale left a manifesto reportedly detailing her motivation, the contents of which the FBI is still protecting. Joseph Giacalone, former police officer and adjunct professor at John Jay College of Criminal Justice, believes authorities are not releasing the manifesto because there may be “something in there that is truly damaging for the transgender community.” Does the manifesto explode the narrative that the Left wants so desperately to maintain: that trans people are the victims of genocidal bigotry and not a threat to anyone? The narrative that the real domestic terror threat in America is Trump supporters and Tucker Carlson viewers?

Something called the Trans Resistance Network in Massachusetts, for example, released a statement on the Covenant school shooting stating that life for “transgender people is very difficult” due to “anti-trans legislation” and “right wing personalities.” The group also painted a sympathetic picture of shooter Hale as a “complex tragedy” who felt she “had no other effective way to be seen than to lash out by taking the life of others.”

No other way to be seen than to kill nine-year-olds? There is no one more visible in America today than a trans activist. They are celebrated in the culture, lauded as trailblazing heroes, and given every platform from the daytime gabfest The View to the White House itself. It is a grotesque lie and sick rationalization to claim that Audrey Hale had no other way to be “seen” than to shoot innocents dead – and furthermore, to claim that the trans community is marginalized and endangered.

NBC ran a story with the headline, “Fear pervades Tennessee’s trans community amid focus on Nashville shooter’s gender identity: ‘We were already fearing for our lives. Now, it’s even worse.’” As Federalist editor Mollie Hemingway put it on Twitter, “Gee, you’d think heavily armed Christian children were hunting down trans activists instead of the other way around.”

More examples of violent rhetoric from gender ideologues: the e-commerce site Etsy allows a significant number of shops to sell trans- and nonbinary-themed items threatening violence.

“Armed queers bash back,” reads a “Pride” flag with a picture of an AK-47.

“Respect my pronouns or yours will be was/were,” reads a sweatshirt.

One t-shirt pictures three daggers along with the words “Protect Trans Kids.”

“Respect gender pronouns or I will identify as a problem,” reads one sticker. Another one reads, “Respect my pronouns or die by my sword.”

“We’re here. We’re queer. I have a brick,” reads another shirt.

These are not vows of self-defense against a legitimate violent threat, but violent threats themselves against someone who might merely “misgender” a trans person. These are public warnings that if you fail to participate in or celebrate this gender delusion, or simply get someone’s “personal pronouns” wrong, some trans people are willing to kill you.

These are not the expressions of a community “living in fear,” but of thugs looking for an excuse to commit murder and mayhem – and confident that the media will circle the wagons around them, and the police will suppress information about their motivation, if they do.

As the Daily Wire’s Matt Walsh tweeted recently, “Always remember what happened at the Covenant School. Remember what happened to those innocent victims, to those children. We are facing a truly demonic evil. Never forget that.”

It is a truly demonic evil, and it’s time to call it like it is: terrorism.

Oh, I’d say it’s time, and past time, that this evil was dealt with by much harsher measures than just calling it names. This, and all too many other evils along with it. But maybe that’s just me; as I always say, your mileage may certainly vary.

Did somebody say “evil” just now? Why yes; yes, somebody did.


“We’re here, we’re queer, I have a brick”? Sorry, love, gonna take something a bit more, umm, stout than mere bricks to deal with all the things Our Side has in store for ya, once we’ve been pushed hard enough to finally break ‘em out. You and yours really, really need to think about that some, before it’s too late.

Above Frontpage link via JJ, below indubitably-pedophilic filth via his bossman. You really do need to read both those AoSHQ posts in their entirety, appalling as the subject matter surely is.

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The Daily Donnybrook, and other fine things

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Welcome to Ye Olde Colde Furye Blogge’s shiny new open-comments thread, where y’all can have at it as you wish, on any topic you like. Do note that the official CF comments policy remains in effect here, as enumerated in the left sidebar. All new posts will appear below this one. There will be blood…

Mike @Substack

Mike’s latest Eyrie post is available here. Don’t miss it if you can! NOTE: bonus points to anybody who can tell me where that last seemingly-flubbed line comes from.

Update! What, no takers? Okay then, the “don’t miss it if you can” line comes from here: Kermit Schafer’s All Time Great Bloopers, an album of my dad’s that me and my brother both loved as kids. Nearly wore that sucker slap out, we did.

Publick Notice

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Just by way of explanation, the reason posting was so sparse yesterday and the Friday Eyrie went up a day early was an absolutely relentless bout of phantom pains intense enough to rip a shrill, girlish scream from me every 30-45 seconds or so all last night, until the horrible things finally let up around 5:30 this AM.

My GOD, but those pains ain’t no joke. Never have been run through with a K-Bar knife before, but I swear that’s EXACTLY what it felt like was happening to the foot I no longer have. Weird, weird stuff; the sensation feels just as real as it gets, but…you know intellectually that it isn’t, that it couldn’t possibly be. It’s all in your head, but your head is powerless to stop or control it just the same. Ain’t no there there, in a manner of speaking—nothing more than a self-perpetuating feedback loop composed entirely of mental vapor, and nothing whatsoever else.

And yet. Screaming, I remind you, which has never been something I was known for doing a whole lot of, except maybe in boisterous glee. Very, very strange.

So yeah, knowing the chances of getting much of anything done in the condition I was suddenly in, and the Eyrie post having been mostly finished anyway the previous evening, I went ahead and got what I could up there, while I still could. Dragged myself out of bed about noon today, and so far so good. Got a fair-ish bit of stupid deck-clearing crap to get done today, so we’ll see how things go this evening, posting-wise. If I don’t show up, don’t y’all assume it’s because I’m having just too much fun to bother, mmkay?

Eyrie up

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Friday’s Eyrie post, Stopped clock comes through again!, is now live. It’s a treatise about, in part, the faceless Grey Men in charge of the Biden Crime Syndicate’s progression from merely rigging “elections” to rigging…press conferences? Sample:

Oh, I think all people possessed of an ounce of integrity can admit that we’re well past mere “speculation” at this late stage of the game; Biden is quite obviously cognitively impaired, to the point that he is manifestly unfit for the office he usurped. And that’s granting that he ever was fit to hold it, an overly-charitable proposition which is at best debatable.

Joe Biden, on his very best day, was never anybody’s idea of the sharpest knife in the DC drawer, anyway. Throw in the profligate, grubby corruption of the entire Biden Crime Family cartel (another simple fact that is beyond obvious to any halfway honest soul); Jaux’ uncontrollable bent towards pedophilia and other sexual perversity (again, beyond all debate); his serial, seemingly compulsive plagiarism (indicative of a core-deep greed and moral perfidy); and the disqualifying evidence against Greasy Joe really starts to pile up. His mere presence in the White House defiles it, and also disgraces us for countenancing it without demur.

Read, subscribe, comment, all that jazz.

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Show trial, on trumped-up charges, in kangaroo court

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Serving up a rancid platter of greasy, unpalatable “justice,” Amerika v2.0 style.

‘It’s Fairy Dust’: The Proud Boys Case Goes to Jury
The fate of five men who supported Trump and protested Joe Biden’s election on January 6 lies in the hands of a biased D.C. jury.

A marathon January 6 trial besieged by scandal, controversy, and acrimony is now in the hands of a Washington, D.C. jury. After nearly four months of back and forth, the government and defense attorneys made their final pitch during closing arguments this week in the multi-count case against five members of the Proud Boys.

The drama surrounding the trial, both inside and outside the courtroom, is worthy of a Netflix series: shocking revelations of numerous FBI informants, deleted government evidence, outbursts from the bench, colorful defense attorneys, last-minute accusations of an assault on police, a mysterious “attack plan” sourced to a former intelligence operative, and concerns over a jury stalker, to name a few.

At the center of the drama are innocent men held behind bars awaiting trial as the January 6 Select committee conducted televised hearings portraying the Proud Boys as one of the masterminds behind a “domestic terror attack” the Biden regime compares to 9/11.

Ethan Nordean, Zachary Rehl, Joseph Biggs, and Dominic Pezzola have been incarcerated under pretrial detention orders since early 2021 on various counts, including conspiracy and obstruction of an official proceeding. By the time jury selection began in December, the defendants had been in jail for almost two years awaiting trial. Rehl, Pezzola, and Biggs are military veterans with no criminal history. (Biggs is a Purple Heart recipient.) Enrique Tarrio, the group’s leader, was arrested on similar charges in March 2022.

In June 2022, U.S. Attorney for the District of Columbia Matthew Graves indicted all five with seditious conspiracy, a rarely used post-Civil War statute, accusing the men of “oppos[ing][ by force the Government of the United States and by force to prevent, hinder, and delay the execution of any law of the United States.” Evidence was gleaned from more than 500,000 messages, which included FBI informants and unindicted co-conspirators, posted on Parler, Telegram, and group texts; virtual meetings and interviews; and video clips of the defendants’ movements before and at the Capitol on January 6.

“These defendants and their co-conspirators were motivated by a shared refusal to accept the results of the 2020 Presidential Election,” Graves’ office wrote in a brief last week laying out the conspiracy’s timeline. “In the weeks following that election, the defendants—in their roles as leaders and members of the Proud Boys—publicly and privately expressed their rejection of the results and their beliefs about the necessary response.”

Two cooperating witnesses and multiple FBI agents and police officers took the stand over the course of several weeks to detail the defendants’ alleged plot to strike “the heart of our democracy,” assistant U.S. Attorney Conor Mulroe said on Monday. “Their success was only temporary. The Constitution survived.”

BWAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Stop it, man, you’re killing me over here.

The conspiracy, Mulroe explained, can be “unspoken, implicit, a mutual understanding, or a wink and a nod”—a laughably broad definition for an offense akin to treason.

“It’s fairy dust,” Steven Metcalf, Pezzola’s attorney, told the jury Tuesday morning. Pezzola is charged with using a riot shield to punch out a window pane that day. Metcalf asked how a “transfer of brain power” between men who didn’t really know each other resulted in a near-coup on January 6.

The government’s case, Nordean’s defense attorney Nicholas Smith told the jury, was held together by “paper clips and rubber bands.” He warned that any convictions on the conspiracy counts would set a grave precedent. “Is every riot a conspiracy?”

Nah, not at all; only the ones not planned, managed, and perpetrated by Communists are. Those ones aren’t “conspiracies,” “insurrections,” nor even “riots” at all, really. Perish the thought. What those are is “mostly peaceful protests” thrown by “patriots” in defense of “Our Sacred Democracy”—an entirely legitimate exercise of their guaranteed right to free expression and non-violent protest, however much assault and battery, destruction of private property, arson, and looting might occur.

Everything else is fair game for indefinite detention in solitary confinement without benefit of charges, legal counsel, or a swift and fair trial in open court by a jury of their peers. It’s spelled out right there in the US Constitution, clearly and specifically, if you care to look it up yourself. Thus:

But, of course, all government shenanigans are condoned in the courtroom of Judge Timothy J. Kelly. The Trump appointee and former Justice Department lawyer has acted as an extra prosecutor, giving the government near carte blanche discretion in this case. Nearly every ruling leading up to the trial favored the prosecution.

He repeatedly denied the defendants’ release from jail at the Justice Department’s request. As evidence mounted that Trump supporters cannot get a fair trial in the most Democratic city in the country, Kelly refused to move the trial to another jurisdiction.

How these soulless, bought-and-paid-for judges and prosecutors can look at themselves in the bathroom mirror every morning without slitting their own throats from shame and remorse for the unspeakable atrocities they daily commit against all that’s right and decent is way the hell beyond me. Pity not only the J6 victims, but all Real Americans who fall into the clutches of this twisted, evil system.

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1

When is a liberal not a liberal?

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The wit and wisdom of George Carlin, delving into why government schools suck.

George Carlin Warned us Why Public Education Sucks and Won’t Get Better
Carlin, despite his left-leaning tendencies, could also grasp certain concepts even his fellow liberals could not. For example, I recently came across an old clip of Carlin talking about education—and boy, was it spot on.

In the clip, Carlin talks about politicians who don’t want to improve education, despite always calling for more money to support it. Carlin also criticized the education system’s approach to addressing poor test scores by suggesting that instead of improving the quality of education, they lower the passing grades, a common practice in many schools.

“That’s what they do in a lot of these schools. Now they lower the passing grades so more kids can pass. More kids pass the school looks good, everybody’s happy. The IQ of the country slips another two or three points, and pretty soon, all you’ll need to get into college is a fucking pencil. ‘Got a pencil? Get the fuck in there.’ It’s physics. Then everyone wonders why 17 other countries graduate more scientists than we do. ‘Education.’ Politicians know that word, they use it on you.”

Carlin continued, “There’s a reason for this. There’s a reason education sucks. And It’s the same reason that it will never, ever, ever be fixed. It’s never gonna get any better. Don’t look for it. Be happy with what you got. Because the owners of this country don’t want that.”

“I’m talking about the real owners now. The real owners, the big wealthy business interests that control things and make all the important decisions. They get the politicians — politicians are put there to give you the idea that you have freedom of choice. You don’t. You have no choice. You have owners. They own you. They own everything. They own all the important land. They own and control the corporations. They’ve long since bought and paid for the Senate, the Congress, the state houses the city halls, they got the judges in their back pockets. And they own all the big media companies. So they control just about all of the news and information you get to hear. They got you by the balls. They spend billions of dollars every year lobbying, lobbying to get what they want. Well, we know what they want. They want more for themselves and less for everybody else.”

“But I’ll tell you what they don’t want. They don’t want a population of citizens capable of critical thinking. They don’t want well-informed, well-educated people capable of critical thinking they’re not interested in that. That doesn’t help them. That’s against their interests.”

Imagine a liberal saying this today. I can’t.

Of course you can’t. There’s about a jillion and one things Carlin used to say that no shitlib today would, nor even could.

I’ve been an avid fan of George Carlin since I was just a kid—and I’m talking here like 13 years old or thereabouts—when I plunked down my entire weekly allowance at my Uncle Gene’s drugstore for a copy of his FM & AM album, brought it home, and put it on the turntable of my family’s big old console-stereo rig. Then, after no more than about five minutes of me and my brother giggling at all the funny cuss-words, my enraged father stormed into the living room, slapped the tonearm off the disk so viciously he dislodged the entire needle cartridge and sent it flying across the room, and ordered me to take that obscene thing straight back to wherever you got it from, he wasn’t about to tolerate having any such filth in HIS house!!!

Although yes, Carlin’s political leanings were Left-wards, when and if he spoke of such piffling things at all, what the man also was—always, quite rigorously, and above all else—was honest. Often brutally so, no matter where that honesty might lead him either professionally or intellectually.

Which, being so uncompromisingly honest had to be extremely painful for him at times, I should think. Then again though, perhaps not so much; as I continued to follow his career over the years, even going so far as to watch his middling-at-best TV series, I began to realize that Carlin wasn’t so much a Leftist as he was a true, bred-in-the-bone iconoclast. Clearly, the man despised official authority in all its forms; I can’t recall him ever mentioning politics at all in his routines other than glancingly, as in the above quotes, and always with searing contempt. Certainly he never endorsed any particular candidate, party, or platform, like all too many of his fellow comics so promiscuously do today.

Like almost every other born-and-raised New Yorker, he thought of himself as a liberal, I suppose. But he wasn’t a guy upon whom the silken fetters of liberalism would ever sit easily or comfortably. A genuine free spirit, he flatly rejected chains of every kind, which is exactly what those silken fetters in reality were, and still are.

There is no common ground to be found between 60s-70s liberalism and liberty, then or now. Those two things being so patently (and ironically, given the Latin root of both words) contradictory, though, I kinda doubt it set off any cognitive dissonance for Carlin just the same. Given the man’s visceral loathing for any sort of political encroachment on freedom, whether his own or anybody else’s, it’s obvious that his first loyalty was always to human liberty, and not to what liberalism had by the close of the 60s come to represent—another vile linguistic traducement I doubt George Carlin would have had any patience with.

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Tales from the tour bus

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1

My friend Tucker

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Some candid, up-close-and-personal dish from a longtime friend of the Carlson family.

I saw articles and innuendo about a friend of about twenty years, Tucker Carlson. You may have heard of him. 

Why do I care? Because I know his story, I know him, and I have known few people more loyal and, yeah, entertaining than Tucker. And I do not like seeing him get beat up. Fox’s decision to axe him is flummoxing. The most popular host on the entire network? Really? Whatever. He’ll be fine. But I don’t like the trash talk coming from Fox, and it is just that. I read some things this morning that are probably actionable, but that’s not my business. 

Right now, I just want to talk about my friend.

It started with his brother, Buckley. Like Tucker, Buckley is one of a kind and hysterical. We bonded when he came to work as a consultant at a firm I was with for years in D.C. We would do stuff like go to Martin’s Tavern and get hammered and come up with show ideas. One was called “Cocktails With Buckley,” and it was to take place there at Martin’s (a Carlson family favorite) and we even wrote a jingle:

He’s Tucker’s Younger brother

Embarrassing his Mother

Two steps ahead of Johnny Law….

Camel in hand

Pocket full of contraband

It’s time for cocktails with BUUUUUUCKLEEEEEY!

So eventually, of course, Tucker—and their lovely father—moved into the scene. It was mostly at The Palm for lunch. This was around the time when Tucker and Neil Patel (another gem of a man) were launching The Daily Caller. I started writing a bit for them and we all just kind of hung out when we were able to. Then he got the Fox gig and things really blew up. It was fun to watch because I felt he deserved it.

Before I even knew him, I’d watch “Crossfire” with the bowties and such and I always found him interesting and insightful, which he is in real life. It is not an act. And like I said, he is hysterical. Look up the YouTube clip of him and Buck “inaugurating” his studio in Maine during the pandemic and you’ll get it.

Some of the stuff I read this morning that bothered me involved humor. Seems some didn’t like his style in that department. Well, that’s BS and it’s one of the reasons I am living in Mexico. You can’t laugh in America anymore. You lose your job. Like the Carlsons, my sense of humor can be a bit juvenile and politically incorrect, and I make no apologies for that. You can take the boy out of 1980s southern California, but you can’t take the 1980s southern California out of the boy.

It’s similar with the Carlsons. They have been a family of only men for a long time and they are all clever, devoted, and interesting. This makes for a generally good time. It got a little too good once when Tucker, now a longtime teetotaler, tossed a drink in the face of Grover Norquist (another gem) when he perceived a slight about his father, The Ambassador. Stuff happens!

Heh. Good stuff, I only wish there was more to it than is included in this too-brief article. Via the ever-indispensable Larwyn’s Linx, Sundance offers an equally intriguing take:

Over the past 18+/- months, viewers have watched Tucker Carlson essentially red pill himself each evening. As he enjoyed the proximity freedom far away from the Eye of Sauron (DC’s control mechanism), Carlson’s eyes opened further to the reality of the situation that blankets our national consciousness.

Disconnected from the machine, free-range in his abilities, and with the intellectual curiosity of the average person, Tucker Carlson started to see the U.S. system as it is, not as media pretend it to be. This is the increasing red pill absorption you have noted daily. Along with that came a more pragmatic and brutally honest production quality to the content he shared.

Carlson’s influence grew as the audience grew; the more truth he spoke, the larger the audience. That free-range influence became a liability to the system operators that hold power, including Rupert Murdoch who is a part of that control system. In essence, and in the big picture, that’s what led to this event today.

During Tucker’s red pill absorption phase, he changed views on a variety of subjects from the FBI to the Fourth Branch of Government, to vaccination and COVID-19, to his views on Donald Trump as a disruption to an increasingly admitted corrupt political machine.

Context in the Tucker worldview expanded and he began to frame the conflict in a big picture of Good -vs- Evil. Unfortunately for Carlson, this view was from inside a multinational corporate system spreading the darkness. He had to be removed.

This is the reality of the situation as it unfolded. Accept it or not, it matters not. This is the Carlson reality.

Carlson was connecting the dots of manipulation beyond media, beyond social battles and constructs, and into the realm of finance, economics and ultimately behind the Potemkin Village of UniParty politics. Blackrock has an increased stake in Fox Corp.

One has to wonder: how much sway might diehard-liberal-owned Blackrock have had in their pet media corp’s precipitate decision to dump their increasingly-discomfiting ratings juggernaut? Inquiring minds would like to know.

4

Just a-doin’ my job

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I’m the Highway Patrol.

That’s guitar-pickin’ legend Junior Brown, working out on his classic “Highway Patrol.” Brown is surely one shit-hot guitarro, one of the best there is, in fact. Some background on that peculiar-looking git-fiddle he’s wailing away on.

In 1985, Brown created a new type of double-neck guitar, with some assistance from Michael Stevens (former Fender Custom Shop designer and luthier—M). Brown called the instrument his “guit-steel”. When performing, Brown plays the guitar by standing behind it, while it rests on a small music stand. The top neck on the guit-steel is a traditional six-string guitar, while the lower neck is a full-size lap steel guitar for slide playing. Brown has two guit-steels for recording and live work. The original instrument, dubbed “Old Yeller”, has as its standard six-string guitar portion the neck and pickups from Brown’s previous stage guitar, a Fender Bullet. The second guit-steel, named “Big Red”, has a neck laser-copied from the Bullet neck; but in addition to electric guitar pickups, both the standard and lap-steel necks use identical Sho-Bud lap-steel pickups. There is a pocket in the upper bout of the guitar to hold the slide bar when it is not in use. Brown also commissioned a “pedal guit-steel” which adds pedals to the instrument for more musical control. Brown has stated that the invention of the guit-steel was always a matter of convenience so that he could play both lap steel and lead guitar during live performances and not directly motivated by a desire to be a “one man band”.

A danged Fender Bullet, of all things—an el-cheapo piece of junk if ever there was one, but somehow Junior makes that humble plank sound awful good, which is the mark of a seriously outstanding player.

As it happens, the BPs did a show with Brown once—Horton’s Holiday Hayride, early in Dec of 2017 (Christ, has it really been that long since I last set foot on a stage?!? That can’t possibly be right, can it?)—a performance that turned out to be our farewell show, although we hadn’t actually planned or announced it that way beforehand. All in all, it was a fantastic night; the Playboys dug down deep and just positively killed it, as did everybody else on the bill.

Here’s what really frosts my nuts about that night, though: I did not see one single damned note of Brown’s set, dammit. I was hanging out in the green room chatting away the whole while with Horton Heat and Big Sandy, both of whom are dear old friends I hadn’t seen in a good, long while. The green room at Neighborhood Theater was situated far enough from the main stage and insulated thoroughly enough that I couldn’t even hear the other bands from in there.

Can’t honestly say I much regret taking the opportunity to catch up with those guys, but still.

Ah well. Don’t know what got me to thinking about Junior Brown earlier today, but something or other did. That’s okay, now y’all get to reap the benefits of my earlier unfocused mental meandering.

Update! It only just occurred to me that I really should’ve appended a Horton’s Holiday Hayride post-show pic to this post. Ah well, better late than never, right?

HortonHoliday2

And to think, you assholes just assumed I was making the whole thing up. Ahem. Pictured, from left: moi, Big Sandy, Jim Heath a/k/a the Reverend Horton Heat. Foreground, a chick I pest-listed for the show. Can’t recall her name, but she was a bartender at my erstwhile CLT haunt, The Diamond. Told me she really wanted to go one night at the D, so I fixed things up for her so’s she could, gratis. As you can see, she was quite the happy girl when she got to hang out with the Boys In The Band après les festivités.

Good times, good times.

3

God created man; Sam Colt made them equal

Posted on      by     

Should you buy a gun? OF COURSE you should, dumbass.

Progressives Convinced Us to Get a Gun
It’s hypocritical to urge Americans to disarm while also failing to protect them from surging crime rates.

Hypocritical? Nah, not quite. It’s EVIL, is what it is.

When I was growing up on the South Side of Chicago in the late 1950s, almost every boy had one treasured possession: a holster with two six-shooters. It was the essential toy for playing Cowboys and Indians, the most popular game in town. Regrettably at the time, my brother and I didn’t get in on the fun. Our father wouldn’t allow it.

He had his reasons: In depriving us of the revolvers, he often would cite his experience during World War II. Our father served in the French army

Ah, it all begins to make sense now.

and, as a member of an artillery regiment, fought the Nazis when they marched into Belgium. During that service, a rifle shot grazed the back of his neck and came close to taking his life. He made it clear that, having been wounded and seen the horrors wrought by firearms, he didn’t believe anyone should think of such weapons as playthings.

No sensible adult does, fool. As for kids disporting themselves at Cowboys and Injuns out in the backyard—Jeez O Pete, man!

 

Onwards.

Though as a child I sometimes resented not fitting in with my friends, I grew to accept that firearms were terrible devices that didn’t belong in our lives. As an adult, for many years I supported banning guns among civilians, even contemplating the merits of repealing the Second Amendment.

As the twig is bent…

But some months ago my thinking changed again. Today, my wife has a gun that she keeps in our home. She has the necessary permits from the authorities and has trained extensively in using the gun safely. Growing up, I never imagined I would have a firearm at home. But I am reassured to have one, even if I’ve never held it myself.

Our decision to acquire a gun is due to the recent release of the man who bludgeoned my wife’s younger sister to death several decades ago. My wife fears that the murderer, released from prison during the Covid-19 pandemic by New York state’s board of parole, poses a potential threat to us.

But our decision also is due to society’s current dysfunction. Crime is surging in our city—Washington—and around the country. Vagrants wander the streets, police are reluctant to tackle criminals, and courts seem unwilling to impose serious sentences on those who break the law. Given these circumstances, owning a gun seems to be one of the few ways to feel even a semblance of personal safety. There is an irony that policies progressives espouse, such as gun control, have prompted us to have a gun in our home.

Progressives nationwide have attacked police and law enforcement, alleging that our legal system is systemically racist and oppressive. They have caused recidivist criminals to haunt our streets and commit more crimes—and have refused to deal with homelessness in spite of the mental illness and drug addictions that so often afflict our cities’ most vulnerable. Numerous efforts to reduce the use of drugs have been rebuffed in the name, of course, of racism.

This approach has unleashed a crime wave and diminished our sense of safety on the streets. It is, therefore, unsurprising to see ever more law-abiding people seeking to arm themselves. As a result, there will be more guns out there, including in the hands of people who should never be near them.

To limit guns in America, much as my father wished, policy makers should focus on the underlying problems that are generating a spike in crime.

As always with leg-wetting hoplophobes, this sort of “thinking” is completely out of whack. “Limiting guns in America” is NOT a goal worth pursuing, based as it is entirely on ignorance, fear, and personal cowardice. In addition, it not only directly conflicts with the plainly-worded 2A, it also contravenes the values of individual self-determination, liberty, and personal responsibility upon which the Republic itself was originally Founded.

So how is it, then, that tremulous, antigun feebs dare to presume that, rather than scorning them for their pathetic neuroses, free Americans instead must bow to them and indulge their irrational phobias?

Sure, there should be more effort made towards reining in the crime currently rampaging and ruining US cities. At the same time, acknowledgment of a certain hard, immutable fact of life on this here planet must be made: Crime will never be eradicated completely. This is what we call part of the human condition; it will always be with us. Same-same for tyranny, which is the actual reason our Founding Fathers saw fit to feature the Second so prominently in the Constitution.

Those truths being self-evident, there can be but one reasonable way to look at the persistent shitlib obssession with doing away with the one truly effective means of resistance against crime and tyranny both: it is not merely wrong, not merely stupid, but actively, literally evil. Anything less is nothing but a comforting deceit we tell ourselves, as a balm for our collective lethargy in confronting it as it ought to be confronted.

All that said, I’m happy for this guy that they finally got a gun. But that’s only the start of it. Now, with a gun in the home, he needs to do himself a big, fat favor and emulate his obviously-intelligent wife: get to the local range; train with it; practice with it; get schooled on how to break it down and clean it (inquire about that at either the range or the local gun shop; you’ll find yourself astonished at the number of friendly, more experienced shooters who will be just pleased as punch to help you out). Learn as much about how y’all’s new firearm functions and the proper care and maintenance of it as you possibly can. It’s all part and parcel of the responsible-gun-owner experience, any one of which items you neglect at your own peril.

Education, see, is one of those “forever” kind of things; it never really ends, which is only meet and just.

(Via Insty)

2

Are you fed up yet?

Posted on      by     

You will be made to care. Unfortunately for Leftwits, that may not work out for them quite the way they assume it will.

I believe more and more people are starting to feel the way I do.

I never cared if you were “gay” or whatever acronym you chose to call yourself, until you started wanting special privileges.

I never cared what color your skin was, until you started blaming me for your problems.

I never cared about your political affiliation, until you started to condemn me for mine.

I never cared where you were from in this great Republic, until you began condemning people based on where they were born and the history that makes them who they are.

I have never cared if you were well off or poor, because I’ve been both, until you started calling me names for working hard to make a better life for myself.

I’ve never cared if your beliefs are different than mine, until you said my beliefs are wrong.

I’ve never cared if you didn’t like guns, until you tried to take my guns away.

Now, I care!

I’ve given all the tolerance I have to give. This is no longer my problem, it’s your problem. You can still fix it, it’s not too late, but it needs to be soon.

I’m a very patient person. But I’m running out of patience. There are literally Tens of Millions of people just like me that are sick of all the Anti-American crap!

I’ve always cared about life, and all lives, but now you try to force the notion on me and other fellow citizens and patriots that certain lives matter more than others. You protest, riot, attack, burn, and loot. Your so-called “movement” has become a radical out-of-control bunch of thugs, criminals, and anarchists who are intent on destroying our Country.

The masses have had enough! America is the greatest country on Earth, and if you don’t like America then we invite you to leave. We are done caring about your misguided “feelings.”

You don’t have the right to enjoy American freedoms if you are trying to take that right away from me or other Americans.

Damned skippy, right down the fucking line. An awestruck tip o’ the CF chapeau to MisHum and Legally Sufficient for this absolutely perfect blast of truly righteous rage.

1

Hinky as hinky gets

Posted on      by     

Exposing the highly shady J6 doings of confirmed liar Ray “Fedboi” Epps after his tongue-bath from the Jurassic Media liars at 60 Minutes.

Ray Epps ‘60 Minutes’ Interview Raises More Questions Than Answers
CBS News became the latest legacy outlet to come to Jan. 6 agitator Ray Epps’ defense Sunday night on ’60 Minutes.’

CBS News became the latest legacy outlet to come to Ray Epps’ defense Sunday night with an interview on the network’s flagship program “60 Minutes.” The network follows The New York Times in giving the Jan. 6 agitator a glossy profile, dismissing as “conspiracies” the allegations that Epps was in covert cooperation with federal law enforcement.

On the eve of the Jan. 6, 2021 riot, Epps is captured on video demanding protesters “go into the Capitol” as Congress certified the 2020 election. Protesters responded by shouting Epps down as a “fed.” Since then, his apparently preferential treatment by law enforcement has contributed to speculation that Epps was an FBI informant who sought to provoke turmoil at the Capitol. While Epps ran to CBS to dispute any connection with the FBI, the interview raised more questions than answers.

“I said some stupid things,” Epps told CBS’s Bill Whitaker after he was shown footage from the night before the riot. “My thought process: we surround the Capitol, we get all the people there… It was my duty as an American to peacefully protest along with anybody else that wanted to.”

His evident effort to encourage rioters to storm the Capitol building makes the partisan Jan. 6 Committee’s defense of him even more suspicious. In January last year, the committee dismissed allegations of Epps’ behind-the-scenes cooperation with law enforcement preceding the riot. The committee appeared to be simply taking his word at face value.

“The Select Committee is aware of unsupported claims that Ray Epps was an FBI informant based on the fact that he was on the FBI Wanted List and then was removed from that list without being charged,” the panel said in a statement. “Mr. Epps informed us that he was not employed by, working with, or acting at the direction of any law enforcement agency on January 5th or 6th or at any other time, and that he has never been an informant for the FBI or any other law enforcement agency.”

A former staffer on the House probe also told “60 Minutes” Sunday night there is “still absolutely zero evidence that Ray Epps was a federal agent.”

But why would the Jan. 6 Committee, which was ostensibly established to prosecute exactly the kind of behavior Epps displayed, come to his defense? Why would CBS News and The New York Times, both accomplices to the panel’s narrative of a “violent insurrection,” do the same?

Oh, I think Occam’s Razor can provide all the answer anybody needs to that one. That, or Sherlock Holmes’s hoary dictum:

In The Sign of Four, Holmes asks Watson: “How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?”

‘Nuff said. But for you more cynical and/or skeptical types, there’s more yet.

In a Senate Judiciary Hearing last week, however, Arkansas Republican Sen. Tom Cotton accused the Justice Department of pursuing charges against individuals who, “in some cases, were merely present on the Capitol grounds.” Epps not only escaped charges after his face appeared on the FBI’s most wanted list, but he received defense from both the FBI and the panel of House lawmakers who investigated the riot.

“Ray Epps has never been an FBI source (or) an FBI employee,” the bureau told “60 Minutes” in a statement.

When Texas Republican Sen. Ted Cruz asked FBI Executive Assistant Director for National Security Jill Sanborn about Epps’ relationship with the bureau last year, however, Sanborn said “I cannot answer that question.”

No, I just bet not. Not because Sanborn didn’t know the answer, but that she had been told not to. But with Überstadt propaganda organs like 60M and the loathsome NYT running cover for Fedboi Epps—along with the phonus-balonus J6 “Truthiness” Commission, among others, every last one of them inveterate, proven liars—what honest person could seriously doubt what the answer really is?

Eyrie up

Posted on      by     

The Monday Eyrie is now available for perusal: RFKjr…um, NAILS it, wherein Our New Savior says things, and against all expectations, They. Are. Good. Also featured is the bone-stupid, not-even-remotely-likely proposition of a Trump-RFKj ticket. A little appetizer addressing that supposedly “titillating” notion:

Titillating? Hardly. Thankfully, I can’t even begin to imagine any such team-up actually occurring—and even if it did, neither of the two has the proverbial snowball’s chance of ever getting anywhere close to the White House anyway, other than as members of a guided-tour group.

In Trump’s case, probably not even then; the Capitol Police would no doubt descend on the poor man in a full-throttle, truncheon-swinging frenzy to club him to the sidewalk, arrest and cuff him, and then unceremoniously load him into the Black Maria and bunge him immediately off to durance vile. Y’know, for inciting a terroristinsurrectionistWhiteSupremacistNazi riot, or parading, or some other such gross atrocity.

And you know damned well they would, too, to afterwards be hailed in Congress Duly Assembled as courageous heroes for having “saved” Our Sacred Democracy through their swift, bold action in Her defense.

Go read, subscribe, comment, &c. Y’all reprobates know the drill.

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