Stop the bellyaching.
So we’re at the precipice of a great four-day weekend, except at my piece of shit place of employ where getting the Friday off after Thanksgiving is like going 15 rounds with Holyfield after he lost a piece of his ear; sure, a little old and not the best fighter anymore, but he’s really feeling that missing chunk of his ear so he’s mad as fuck.
You see where I’m going with that.
I used to love Thanksgiving more than the other holidays because it requires no obligations beyond showing up, getting your drink on and eating.
Those were the days.
In recent years, of course, in these hyperpartisan times of woe and want, the Thanksgiving dinner table is the chosen battleground of SJWs who, having just prepped on all the ways to DEMOLISH “Faux News Talking Points” will proceed to segue conversations toward stupid socio-political topics with all the delicacy and discretion of an elephant tap-dancing on a minefield. Even though no one else ever brings the conversation toward the political, that one distant SJW relative who’s been psyched up for this since she read “Survive Your Stupid Conservative Relatives at Thanxgiving” on won’t miss on opportunity to stir up some righteous conflict where none before existed. And of course, being on the extreme political fringe and having some reputation for belligerence in regard to confrontation, I essentially walk into the joint with a giant SJW target on my back. And I tire of it, because I’m not changing anyone’s mind, they’ll leave just as stupid as they arrived.
So I drink.
Earlier and earlier.
As for the genuine spirit of the holiday, I suppose I’m thankful for a few things. Friends and close family, especially, general health (however fleeting) and just enough material comfort to keep me honest. It’s been a rough year in some ways, dismal in others, but with a few brief moments of respite that made it all worthwhile. And of course I’m thankful for you, all six of you, because in the main your contributions here often strike more to the heart of the matter than my own.
So I’m knocking off in a few, then drinking, college basketball LIVE from Maui, more drinking, then stuffing two turkeys into the smokers and lettin’ em rip for 22 hours. For that, also, I am truly thankful.
Happy Thanksgiving.

A Turkey Fit For The Season

So just in time for the wonderfully, parochially American holiday of Thanksgiving, the oddly named nation of Turkey, who was once improbably led by a guy named “Ataturk”, which would be like someone named “Columbus” becoming Mayor of Columbia*, is belching its stuffing all over the most volatile region in the world today. Turkey has committed a military strike most fowl** in defense of the same ISIS that Our Simple Affirmative Action President strains to protect without the rubes*** catching wise, shooting down a Russian fighter jet over Syrian air space and then shooting the pilot and weapons officer after they ejected and were descending to the ground by parachute.
History does have a wicked rhyme scheme, I’ll give it that.
Where it goes from here is anyone’s guess, unless that guess is to a more peaceful and careful approach to the region by all parties. If your guess even slightly leans in that direction, kindly pack up your shoes, gather your things, and remove yourself from the premises forthwith. Thank you. The fun fact about NATO is that our North Atlantic Justice League obligates us to side with Turkey against Russia, just like old times, even though Turkey is allied with the JV terrorist organization that we are theoretically at war with, though apparently not really. But that hesitation has to be kept on the down-low because hundreds of dead progressive white people in the hip urban areas of Paris sort of precludes the nuanced approach to tackling terrorism that Our Simple Affirmative Action President prefers. The rest of the NATO alliance is awaiting our lead, except possibly France. If Russia strikes Turkey, and the other NATO powers minus France strike back at Russia, who is also striking ISIS, exactly who are we fighting and why?
Sometimes I wish I was a Millennial and completely ignorant of history and everything else.
Then, this would be new to me.
In other news, “white supremacists” shoot and lightly wound five HASHTAGBLACKLIVESMATTER protesters in Minneapolis last night, despite the police having no suspects ID’d or in custody, and witnesses seeing only men wearing masks. I’m going to head out on the limb there and say FAKE BUT ACCURATE on that one. If it is indeed KLAN 2.1 behind the trigger, well, can’t say I haven’t been warning you morons about that for a while now. And if it turns out it was all a hoax like most of these are hoaxes, well, good luck.

* Thought I was going to say Columbus? C’mon now.
** Today, you get puns.
*** You.

Good Music Friday

Let’s call this No-Hands Friday, because we’re just fucking wingin’ it now.
Next week is Thanksgiving, and I can barely wrap my head around that because in my head I’m just about composed enough to contemplate the Fourth of July. Of 2013.
We’ll score that a stroke or two above PAR, then.
As it was just shy of 15 years ago, your Word of the Week is “ISLAM” – that mysterious Religion of Peace that in no way represents or is to be associated with the people who consider you infidels and dream of nothing beyond elicit encounters with livestock and slitting the throats of infidels (you) while gloriously shouting that God Is Great in one particular language. After 15 years of this, in fits and starts, few if any are buying that line anymore – Islam is a grab-bag of reprobate philosophies based on a willful misunderstanding of a better and more legitimate religion, now tailored to best serve the dull-witted and bloodthirsty in their quest to blame everyone else for their own shortcomings.
One even moderately versed in the history of this world marvels at the stunning efforts to contort the facts on the ground by the so-called leaders of the Western World to avoid any scrutiny of the pathology that leads from Islam to the inevitable bloodbaths we’ve endured time and again. The remarkable thing is how relatively easily the situation could be handled today if the West understood the problem even half as fully as their predecessors from a bygone era. In terms of disparity between the technology, resources, talent and experience of the combined powers of the contemporary Western World and the enemy it faces, the gap has never been wider. It dwarfs the capacity of all previous crusades and counter-conquests by several orders of magnitude, yet for wont of a man that’s even a half-measure of Charles Martel, we will watch in bemused horror as these attacks not only continue, but increase in frequency and scope.
The curious man would perhaps ask why this is so, and he would be correct to do so. You and I already know the answer to that question; it’s academic at this point, but for shits and grins perhaps it’s worth going through the contingencies from the top:

    · The Powers That Be honestly do not believe there is any problem with the Religion of Peace, it’s compatibility with the Western World, and that a few rotten apples really are spoiling the whole bunch.
    · The Powers That Be honestly do not believe there is any problem with the Religion of Peace, it’s compatibility with the Western World, because they themselves believe in nothing at all and cannot fathom that anyone else does. Just as they use their nominal Christianity as a front to advance their political goals, so to do they assume that the adherents of the Religion of Peace operate under the banner of something they don’t actually believe in.
    ·The Powers That Be realize how dangerous Islam and its adherents are to the Western way of life and simply do not care; any conflict between the two ways of life is accounted for in some grand plan somewhere.
    · The Powers That Be realize how dangerous Islam and its adherents are to the Western way of life and are too scared to confront it or wholly uncomfortable with the prospect of meeting violence with anything other than their soft, cowardly underbelly.
    · The Powers That Be are in fact sympathetic to Islam and its adherents, and actively seek to help it along in all its endeavors to the full extent of its ability while maintaining at best a token façade of neutrality.

So we trundle on with Our Simple Affirmative Action President petulantly shaking his fist from his podium declaring all those that disagree with him on the subject to be unrepentantly un-American, while his would-be successor keeps insisting the conflict has nothing to do with Islam at all, notwithstanding all of the tweets, blog posts, magazine articles, videos and sermons that the enemy itself has produced to explain their rationale. Just as I wouldn’t trust CLINTON II with advice on how to seat the main bearings on a Hi-Po Ford engine, I also wouldn’t trust her with advice on the nature of an enemy she doesn’t have the capacity to understand.
So when we finally do muster an adequate response to this threat, it will no longer be such a simple matter as it would be had we done it today. That will be the folly that history, should it be fortunate enough to be rendered through Western eyes, will remember most about this time and place.
That and the complete and total collapse of everything.
So enough of that good cheer.
I’ll be spending the weekend in Bunker de Huckleberry, watching horrible football, keeping tabs on the news and drinking myself to a mild state of numb, because goddamnit I earned it this week.
Have a great weekend wherever you may be and get ‘em the Hell in.

* Western World, because I cannot in good conscience call it a civilization. Words still mean things, if only for me.


No Surrender
Siege The Day
The Pinkerton Thugs
Squigtone Records | 1998

A Frenchman Walks Into A Bar

Laying prone in the street, he asks his companion what happened.
“You walked into a bar. It knocked you out cold. Why would you walk into a bar?”
“I never saw it coming,” the Frenchman muttered, “I only exist in tortured metaphor.”
The 20th century was not kind to the French. World War I annihilated their best and brightest men; World War II crushed what little remained of their national spirit. The Cold War saw them play fourth-fiddle in the Panoply of Uselessness that was NATO while every vestige of their prominence slipped away, from Dien Bein Phu to Algiers. Despite (or perhaps because of) the lionization of Charles de Gaulle, the second half of the century witnessed France’s marked decline coupled inversely proportional to the rise of its collective psychotic incoherence. The France of this time was the birthplace of post-modernism, post-structuralism, deconstructionism, post-deconstructionism, and absurdist existentialism, which are all schools of thought focused around the same thing – that meaning is meaningless. Beyond that, none of it matters because obliterating the meaning from everything means never having to say you’re sorry.
Fast-forward a few decades, where the French philosophies of futility have spread and become essentially the European Way, France suddenly finds itself beset with a fanatical enemy known for the very strict dichotomy of its character – conqueror or conquered – with nothing in between. Just as you can’t buy off the moral rectitude that comes with religious conquest, you also can’t engage it with your century-old shell-shocked bag of pseudo-jedi mind tricks insisting that everything is nothing. Philosophic walls are in a way just as important as the material kind, in that they establish a set of beliefs from which sovereignty and agency derive. The decades of bleak navel-gazing about the nature of nothing is one crucial reason why France and the larger Western world are not up to the challenges that lay before them.
The attacks in Paris, coupled with the downing of the Russian jet, the assault on the Tunisian tourist resort, the aborted train assault, the Hebdo assault, the Sydney attacks, and on and on and on, should be all that you need to know to reckon with the idea that #LoveWon’tWin this fight, dismissing ISIS as not-representative of “true Islam” is counter-intuitive in the extreme, and that bombing the ever-loving shit out of Syria and Iraq accomplishes nothing when your enemy is already inside your home with a knife to your throat.
There will be more of this to come, obviously, in France and elsewhere. The Culture of Nothingness absurdly clings to its insistence that it can win a moral war without any discernable morality.
Let’s see how that works out for them.

Good Music Friday

Well hey now.
What a week.
You can tell autumn is in the air when everyone from Anchorage to Appaloosa absolutely flips their biscuits online and off in apoplectic fury over the fact that they are not, in fact, the Children of the Corn, and cannot, in fact, simply wish everyone that bothers them into the cornfield to be eaten alive by the husk monster of Social Justice.* Yet watching the insanity unfold online and off on campuses across the land – oddly enough approaching term-paper/finals exam time on the academic calendar – underscores everything I know to be true about our decline and its inevitability.
Some fear these gibbering morons are the next iteration of commie-fascist movements like the Red Guard that will somehow spark THE CULTURLA REVOLUTION and sweep into power, but come on. The members of the Red Guard were intelligent and fearless. These modern day Children of the Corn are neither. I grant they will throw tantrum after tantrum demanding that someone, somewhere, put them into power, but I think their shelf life is coming to its end, as is the shelf life for a whole lot of other things.
We’ll see.
Other than that, it’s been a weird week given how much has happened and been completely shouted over. For example, a federal appeals court upheld an injunction or Our Simple Affirmative Action President’s little plan to import an entirely new interim electorate**, one more amenable to conformity, corruption and working for slave wages without complaint. The O-Force knew this was in the offing, because not half an hour after the ruling was announced, OSAAP filed an appeal with the (Taco)Supreme Court. The court may or may not take up the issue this term; if that’s the case, the soonest the injunction can be cleared is summer of 2017, which is a good six months into the O-Force’s 44-year golf-‘n-cocaine retirement plan. The suit on the merits still must be decided by several layers of jurisprudence before that can be settled, but in practical terms the injunction IS the case. If that gets lifted, the illegals are legalized and all the post-hoc lawsuits can’t stuff that back into the tube. But funny how that was announced and then completely drowned out by Day 1 of the college temper tantrum extravaganza.
The fix is in, I know it in my bones.
Word has it that the FBI is “ramping up” its investigation into CLINTON II, moving from fact-finding to case-building, but somehow I remain skeptical anything will come of it. It’s worth noting, also, that the Bern-outs seem to be fading away as the crank from Vermont begins his slow slide back into irrelevancy. It’s the drunken lesbian’s race to lose, now.
Aside from that, not much happening that I’ve been made aware of. The weather’s been cool here, dry as shit, and like I said last week, it feels unabashedly autumnal for once in this infernal place. So there’s that. Not much on the agenda. For some stupid reason we’ve agreed to host Thanksgiving at Casa de Huckleberry this year, so I guess I have to figure out what kind of dead animal(s) I’m going cue up, but the rest of my time is writing and enjoying Rome’s flames from the comfort of the outskirts, a bourbon in hand and a smile on my face.
Have a bitchin’ weekend and get ‘em in. The song is dedicated to our #Mizzou brothas and sistas currently under siege by their own fevered imaginations.
Stay strong.

* Yes I know I’m mixing up two different horror stories of spoiled children being self-absorbed dicks. Let’s just consider it a term of art and be on our way, huh?
** You know, a placeholder until the robots take over and break down all the time.


The KKK Took My Baby Away
Pleasant Dreams
The Ramones
Sire Records | 1981

In Pursuit Of Spaces Both Safe And Sufficiently Syndicalist


Watching the collected students, faculty and staff of the University of Missouri, or “Mizzou” as they refer to themselves for some God-awful reason, burn (Bern?) their institution to the ground over literally nothing beyond a handful of anecdotes has been a fun way to spend the week – and it’s only Wednesday. Part of the reason I haven’t written about it yet (beyond other things getting in the way) is that it’s one of those stories that just moves too fast, and unless you’re willing to jump in from the beginning and focus on nothing but the story for the duration, it’s best to just let it unfold and see what shakes out.
And what’s shaken out is the distilled essence of everything that is wonderfully corrupt about SJWs, their “culture” and the confluence of more than a dozen trends of the past three decades coming together in a perfect storm of uselessness, futility, immaturity and doubling down continuously while holding the low hand.
There are so many contributing factors to this contretemps that I can’t even cover them all in any meaningful detail. Much if not most of it has been covered in various ways in the past 18 months or so when this really kicked off, because the “university experience” is a devolution in principle and a wonderful proof-of-concept for those wishing to weaponize the marriage between blithering ignorance and instant gratification. These imbeciles can’t think, they navigate the world on the whims of their emotional vacillations, and they are never, ever going to get better. This form of lunacy has been cultivated, cured and hardwired into them from the cradle on. That kind of things isn’t something you just get over or get past with time and experience.
For all those who keep insisting that “The Real World” will fix this, that “just wait till these ingrates get out into The Real World”, do you really have any confidence in this, a “Real World” that stands for nothing and exists as a hollowed out husk waiting for one final stiff breeze to come knock it to the ground?
I do not.
Make no mistake – The Real World will molly coddle these lunatics just as surely as their college professors did, as their high school rubberstampers did, as their elementary school babysitters did, as their pre-K naptime monitors did, as their helicoptering parents did. These children have lived an existence ensconced in bubblewrap from the get-go, enabled by those who should have known better but preferred the easy path of enabling, and if my experience with the culture of Human Resources in most of Corporate America and the Public Sector is correct (and it is) there are plenty more enablers to bend over again and again and again, until the last lug nut flies off the hub and the wheel of civilization goes spinning off into the ditch, or until the Sino/Neo-Soviets invade the West Coast, whatever comes first.