President Crackhead

The steamy heat has arrived with a vengeance.  We finally got two sunny days in a row and the mercury (gasp!) exceeded ninety degrees.  Luckily, I’ve finally gotten the pool’s pH, clarity and algae infiltration status (I just made that up) where they belong.  And now the younger grandson cohort has arrived and they threaten to infest the pool with complete abandon.  And afterwards, they’ll demand that Camera Girl produce grilled cheese sandwiches and chocolate milk.  Eventually we’ll head down to the pool table and delve into the mysteries of Euclidean-Newtonian elastic collisions.  But before we get around to that I’ll provide my daily gazette.

Official Washington seems to be fascinated with the West Wing cocaine caper.  Apparently, the FBI and CIA that can use advanced DNA detection technology to solve decades old cold cases can’t identify the owner of the zip-lock bag of cocaine found in the West Wing.  Now that is so transparently absurd that anyone with a modicum of intelligence realizes that everyone knows exactly who was in possession of the bag.  Just as a guess I’d say it’s Hunter’s.  But I’m sure there is a long list of coke heads inhabiting the White House.  The real question is why was the discovery of the coke allowed to see the light of day?

Is this part of an op meant to discredit the Biden re-election or is it meant to give the Republicans some semblance of hope that they can beat Biden in 2024?  Honestly?  I can’t decide and even more importantly I don’t care.  The degeneracy of the Biden regime has never been in doubt.  Everywhere we look in the Biden administration we see corruption and dysfunction.  It’s a freak show.

At the same time that has had exactly zero effect on the political landscape.  Official Washington does exactly as it pleases and it no longer seems to matter how outrageously the regime misbehaves.  So once again, we see the completely separate realities that friends of the regime inhabit versus everyone else.  The IRS tracks every deposit and withdrawal from your bank account that’s more than $600 but Hunter Biden has tens of millions of dollars floating in and out of his accounts and the only consequence is he has to re-file his taxes.  Anarcho-tyranny at its very best.

The only worse example is the difference in how we’re treated with respect to speech.  Here’s a staffer for the present New York City Council who advocated for violence against the police during the George Floyd riots.  She suffered no consequences and currently has a job in government.  Whereas a right-wing Twitter personality was convicted of voter suppression for mocking the intelligence of Democrat voters by tweeting that they could vote by texting.

So why don’t they just give Hunter his coke back.  What possible difference could it make to anyone?  In fact, why don’t we just save time and let Hunter take over his father’s spot on the 2024 Democrat presidential ticket?  I think President Crackhead is exactly what we should have in the White House.  Let’s stop any pretense that we have a democratic process or that the regime even bothers to pretend to care what we think.  What we have to do is find the work-arounds that will allow us to survive in this thugocracy.  And I think moving this thing along makes sense.  Yep, President Crackhead.

Okay, so there’s my black pill for the day.  I’ll try to be more cheerful later.  Meantime I better go spend some time with the kids.  That’s the white pill.

The Dead Don’t Die (2019) – A Horror Movie Review

Here is another movie for which I will not provide a spoiler alert.  This movie cannot be spoiled.  There’s nothing there to spoil.

For whatever reason, more than a few well-known actors and celebrities appeared in this ridiculous film.  The star is Bill Murray as Police Chief Cliff Robertson.   Adam Driver is Officer Ronnie Peterson, Robertson’s patrol partner.  Steve Buscemi is a farmer named Frank Miller.  Tilda Swinton is Zelda Winston, a samurai/funeral director/space alien.  Danny Glover is a hardware store owner.  Selena Gomez is Zoe, “a young traveler.”  Rosie Perez plays a tv reporter and Iggy Pop is a coffee guzzling zombie.  Carol Kane is a fat bloated drunken zombie who wants a drink.  And last but not least, Sturgill Simpson, who also sings the eponymous theme song of the movie (several times) is “Guitar Zombie.”  He is this by virtue of a guitar that is dragging behind his foot by the strings as he stumbles zombie-like through the night.

Most of the dialog is Murray and Driver speculating on the steadily increasing zombie body count in what I suppose is supposed to be the stoic tones of small-town cops.  They also break the fourth wall from time to time by mentioning what the script said would happen next.  And one strange character arc has Tilda Swinton interrupt her zombie slicing work to be picked up by an alien space ship and transported away.

The reason given for the appearance of the walking dead is that the Earth has “fallen off its axis” because of “polar fracking.”  Eventually, one by one, or in small groups all the townspeople are eaten by the zombies.  Finally Driver informs Murray that the movie ends with them dying while courageously fighting the zombies.  So, they get out of their squad car and get to it.  And not a moment too soon.

I’m not sure whether this movie had a script or whether the actors just extemporized.  There might have been a few moments that were mildly funny.  Steve Buscemi is funny even when he doesn’t mean to be.  But there aren’t many.  And by the middle of the movie, you’re just hoping it ends sooner than later.  But it doesn’t.  It goes on and on.  It’s a very long 103 minutes.

This movie must have an audience.  But that audience doesn’t include me.

Repent, the End is Nigh!

Siva Vaidhyanathan is a professor of Media Studies at the University of Virginia.  So if he tells me Twitter is doomed then it must be!

His proof:

“How long can this Twitter last? It must be a matter of months away from total collapse. Of course, I’ve been saying that for a year now, and I have no special insight into its financial matters. Now, however, things seem to be in a death spiral that is more than financial. It’s technical. While Musk tried his best to distract critics by blaming artificial intelligence companies allegedly scraping Twitter, a glitch in Twitter itself meant its computers were demanding data from its servers in an infinite loop. So Twitter was killing itself. It seems to be a mercy killing.”

Or maybe he’s just a typical Lefty that doesn’t want to pay eight bucks to get back his blue check mark on Twitter.  Waaa!  Waaa!  Waaa!

A Bud Light Moment for the Gals

A small women’s clothing line that specializes in conservative traditional dresses (see below) decides to associate itself with a “gender fluid” guy with a full beard and he models the company’s cloths and the company embraces these images.

Hey, maybe women are put off of clothing that works to associate its product with a guy with a beard cross-dressing in it.  Especially if it’s traditional women.  Another brilliant marketing move brought to you by the woke alliance.

Atilla’s Court

As I sit here putting pen to page, or whatever the paperless equivalent is now called, I am pleased to be reaching out across this huge continent, and even larger planet to the few like-minded individuals that have found their way here over the last few years.  I have a few readers in East Asia, Europe, Australia, Africa and even a South American from time to time.  And of course, I have readers in other parts of North America; several in Canada and even one or two in Mexico.  But the bulk of my readers and almost all of my commenters live in America.  And that’s because I am an American.  What I write about is my thoughts and feelings as I live through the dismantling of the American dream.

Because that’s what it is.  To fight World War II the Federal Government and Corporate America formed an alliance to marshal the resources needed to defeat Germany and Japan.  But more importantly this alliance made a deal with the American people.  In exchange for them sending all of their sons into the meat grinder they promised to supercharge the economy and build a shiny new America full of interstate highways, technological wonders, college degrees and most importantly jobs.  And something else was implied.  It was understood that this alliance of government and business had as its highest priority the welfare of the American people.  Sure, we might have a Marshall Plan for Europe and charity for the third world but when push came to shove their main focus was making sure blue-collar workers in the industrial heartland could afford to put a roof over the heads of their children and food on the table.

And for about twenty-five years it seemed that indeed, the people in Washington made it their business to oversee an economy that did just that.  But somewhere in the 1970s that began to change.  Maybe it was the Cold War or the oil crisis but from that point on it seemed like the lives and livelihood of the middle and working classes became expendable chips in the high stakes games that the rich and the powerful played in Washington.  That deal they made in 1941 has expired.  The IOUs they wrote are now worthless.

And it’s worse than that.  Now they’re making believe they’ve never even heard of us. “Americans?  You must mean the “Old Americans.”  Those racist, transphobes that clutter up the landscape that we want to fill up with “New Americans.”  Haven’t you people died off yet.  We’ve given you enough opioids and scorn to do the job.  What are you waiting for?”

But we’re still here.  And we still remember the deal they made.  And the funny thing is we know that someday they’ll remember that they need us to fight their wars or solve their technical problems or cure their diseases.  But will we still be here?  Because eventually people who aren’t wanted leave.  And they go where they are needed.  Maybe it’ll be Eastern Europe or South America or East Asia or somewhere completely unexpected.  But the way things are going it probably won’t be the United States.  This country has retreated into a contracting pessimism.  We must use less energy, less food, less money, less space, less life.  We will have fewer children, fewer opportunities and fewer reasons to want to live.

Now maybe, possibly we’ll get the upper hand again and hold our leaders in government and industry accountable.  That would be an outcome, much to be desired.  But the record of the last couple of decades doesn’t give me much hope of that.  Those in charge are in almost complete control.  Sure, there are places like Florida that are still putting up a good fight and have been taking back local control from the oligarchs.  I wish them all the success they can obtain.  Maybe they can duplicate that success in an expanding circle of red states that can demand a federalist solution to the Democrat monopoly on federal power that we are living through.  And maybe those red states can assume responsibility for those IOUs that the feds reneged on.  But once again. I’m not holding my breath.

So that’s where it stands.  I feel like one of the Greek renegades who went to work for Atilla the Hun back in 450 A.D. when the historian Priscus was negotiating for the Eastern Roman Emperor Theodosius II to avoid the sack of the Danube provinces.  The renegade still remembers the myth of the Roman Empire he was taught as a boy; a land of justice and prosperity.  But then the reality of crushing taxes, omnipresent incompetent bureaucrats and hypocritical application of the law courts against the common man are remembered and reveal the myth to be a pathetic joke.

Of course, Rome lasted, nominally, for five hundred years after it ceased to be a republic.  Maybe there is no escape from the Global American Empire.  Well, that’s something to chronicle too.  And that’s what I do in my small way.  And also, I give people a cyber space to come to when they want to make a point or share an insight.  So, I’ll maintain my outpost and report what I see and think.  You do your part and tell me what you see and think too.  And spread the word if you know any folks who would fit in here.