What Is There to Say?

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After a while we’ve said everything there is to say about the death trap we’ve walked into.  Everyone of us has read the umpteenth article on the managerial elite and the Global American Empire.  We’ve read the debates back and forth over whether this is a neo-religious cult or a cynical grift that the leaders of the Left have cooked up to keep the drones busy while they pilfer the treasury, or both.  It’s all been said.

So, what’s left?

Well, what’s left is us.  We still have to live.  We can’t just retreat to our living rooms, stop eating and die.  We’ve got things we want to do.  For some it’s family and responsibility.  For others it’s freedom and adventure.  But whatever it is we have to devote a certain amount of our energy to counteracting the intentional harm that our dysfunctional regime heaps upon us in innumerable ways day in and day out.  And chronicling these problems and pointing out the work arounds is one of the useful things that can be done by someone writing about our lives.

And we can pass along stories of victories and defeats.  Maybe one of our guys passes legislation to protect our side from some old or new atrocity.  Maybe some unlucky hero stands up to the thugs and gets railroaded into prison for the rest of his life.  All these things are useful because they teach us about what’s really going on.  Even if these stories find their way into the mainstream media the spin on them makes them almost unrecognizable.  So, the only place where you’ll hear our side of what’s going on is in some source like this.  And it’s the only place where the readers can comment on these events and give their own opinions.

And that’s another function of this activity.  It provides a means for like-minded people to speak their minds and pass information back and forth.  And that is valuable both as a means of communication and to improve morale.  Feeling alone makes our plight almost hopeless and if you can see that others are out there it encourages you to keep going.

And another reason that these sites are useful is that they provide a place for things that the outside world has eliminated.  As the world fills up with TikTok influencers cross-dressing their way into our hearts places like this can review movies and books that reflect the old way of thinking.  I can put up quotes by Thomas Jefferson and Rudyard Kipling that express thoughts that are strictly forbidden by modern leaders of government, academia and even the churches.

And finally, this site can allow us all to have a little fun from time to time by expressing our individuality.  One of the guest contributors can put up a photo or a story that means something to him.  And there may be a resonance in the other viewers.  There’s some camaraderie in being in a hated minority.  The plucky rebels can feel pride in standing up to the evil empire even if it’s just by calling out the crimes they commit.

So, just for today I’ll omit the rant against the managerial elite and the Global American Empire.  They’ll still be there tomorrow.  Today I salute Orion’s Cold Fire and all of its denizens.  From the lurkers and the regulars to the ringleader himself.  Long may we meet and grouse about the world.

This Says it All for NYC and the Other Dem Cities

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The people (and especially the women) of New York City have voted themselves into a suicide pact.

14MAY2023 – Quote of the Day

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TOMMY

I went into a public-‘ouse to get a pint o’ beer,

The publican ‘e up an’ sez, “We serve no red-coats here.”

The girls be’ind the bar they laughed an’ giggled fit to die,

I outs into the street again an’ to myself sez I:

 

⁠O it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, go away”;

⁠But it’s “Thank you, Mister Atkins,” when the band begins to play,

⁠The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,

⁠O it’s “Thank you, Mister Atkins,” when the band begins to play.

 

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,

They gave a drunk civilian room, but ‘adn’t none for me;

They sent me to the gallery or round the music-‘alls,

But when it comes to fightin’, Lord! they’ll shove me in the stalls!

 

⁠For it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, wait outside”;

⁠But it’s “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper’s on the tide,

⁠The troopship’s on the tide, my boys, the troopship’s on the tide,

⁠O it’s “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper’s on the tide.

 

Yes, makin’ mock o’ uniforms that guard you while you sleep

Is cheaper than them uniforms, an’ they’re starvation cheap;

An’ hustlin’ drunken soldiers when they’re goin’ large a bit

Is five times better business than paradin’ in full kit.

 

⁠Then it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, ‘ow’s yer soul?”

⁠But it’s “Thin red line of ‘eroes” when the drums begin to roll,

⁠The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,

⁠O it’s “Thin red line of ‘eroes” when the drums begin to roll.

 

We aren’t no thin red ‘eroes, nor we aren’t no blackguards too,

But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;

An’ if sometimes our conduck isn’t all your fancy paints:

Why, single men in barricks don’t grow into plaster saints;

 

⁠While it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, fall be’ind,”

⁠But it’s “Please to walk in front, sir,” when there’s trouble in the wind,

⁠There’s trouble in the wind, my boys, there’s trouble in the wind,

⁠O it’s “Please to walk in front, sir,” when there’s trouble in the wind.

 

You talk o’ better food for us, an’ schools, an’ fires, an’ all:

We’ll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.

Don’t mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face

The Widow’s Uniform is not the soldier-man’s disgrace.

 

⁠For it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Chuck him out, the brute!”

⁠But it’s “Saviour of ‘is country,” when the guns begin to shoot;

⁠Yes it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ anything you please;

⁠But Tommy ain’t a bloomin’ fool—you bet that Tommy sees!

 

Rudyard Kipling

 

 

Guest Contributor – Chemist – 13MAY2023 – Report from Texas

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There is a lot going on in Texas right now. We have an invasion across our southern border that is flooding the state. Abbot can only send so many busses to NY and Chicago.
We have some of the highest property taxes in the country in spite of a budget surplus.
We have a GOP majority in both houses (In name only) because a RINO representative convinced all of the democrats to support him for speaker of the house in exchange for putting democrats in charge of the most powerful committees. This, along with his RINO cronies, makes him unbeatable. As a result, almost no republican priorities get acted on.

I am concerned about Dan Perry and hope that Abbot gets him home as fast as possible. But I don’t think it is on the top of most Texan’s concerns.

 

 

(Editor’s Note:

Thanks for that report Chemist.  That RINO situation sounds awful.

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Another Lesbian Upset by the Transformation of Their Identity

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Lesbians feel like their identity has been falsified by a movement that now defines a lesbian as “non-men” who love “non-men.” And they’re beginning to see how sexual confusion harms children.

So even people who aren’t sexually normal realize that the madness of denying the reality of sexual identity is harming children.  Well it’s a little late now.  They’ve undermined the understanding of what men and women are and why they are that way.  They now see why tolerate and celebrate have completely different outcomes.  Celebrating deviancy and pretending it’s something wonderful confuses children who don’t really understand sexuality.  Now we’re reaping that harvest of confusion in the epidemic of little girls who are afraid of becoming women and boys trying to please their teachers and mothers.

Here are the two quotes that express the difference between the crazy then and the crazy now:

When gay Americans fought for same-sex marriage rights, opponents argued that it would lead to more extreme societal changes involving sex and gender.

“I mean, let’s face it. It kind of almost looks like the slippery slope argument is true,” Hatch said. “The reality is there are men in dresses going into locker rooms and exposing themselves. There are children at drag shows and there are children being put on hormone blockers or even in some cases surgically having things done.”

“As much as we want to ignore it, we can’t,” she added.

And:

Hatch said she is plagued with guilt and regret witnessing the “butterfly effect” that decades of advocacy for gay and lesbian causes is having on children today.

“Had I known then what I know now, maybe I would have still wanted gay rights, but I think I would have fought harder to make sure that we didn’t involve the children in adult things,” she said. “Because it’s horrifying.” 

“Is this the people we are now? Is this who we’ve become?” Hatch added.

It’s pathetic to hear these regrets from those that dynamited our culture.  This is the world they created.  And it’s not over yet.  But maybe some good will come of it.  The reaction to the worst of what is happening may be a demand that things go back to what they were before this madness erupted.

Dagon’s Spawn Goes for a Stroll

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Dunwich is the home of more than just Cthulhu himself.  In addition to the First Selectman several of his fellow Great Old Ones inhabit the borders of the township.  For instance, several of Dagon’s descendants inhabit the various lakes, ponds and swamps that overgenerously hydrate the area.  As I’ve often mentioned I am adjacent to one of these swamps and from time to time one of its inhabitants sojourns through or near the grounds.

Today I was in the west field collecting the scattered remains of some cattle that a shoggoth must have devoured there when I heard the sound of tree trunks creaking and cracking under the strain of some horribly massive object forcing its way against them.  As I watched I could see some enormous white pines toppling over far off in the distance.  I cautiously made my way to the location where the trees had fallen and I saw a terrifying sight.  One of the Deep Ones, possibly Dagon’s oldest child was just finishing off the shoggoth as a small meal.  It was of course eating it alive and its victim was changing form and letting out the most horrifying sounds ever heard by a human ear.  Well, except for that time Kamala Harris laughed at one of Biden’s jokes.  That was worse.

When the Deep One was finished with its meal, it belched thunderously and the air was filled with a sulfurous fume that nearly finished me off before the wind changed direction.  Then it hauled its titanic bulk out of the mud and battered a path back into the deeper end of the swamp where it disappeared below the surface with a sickening sucking sound.

Later when the sun had set the foot prints began to glow with a sickly yellow phosphorescence and any creature, insect or amphibian that touched those glowing patches jumped away in pain and rapidly died.  And I happened to witness later that night when an enormous gas bubble broke the surface of the swamp and a yellow glowing fume drifted up.  All the leaves above the pond immediately shriveled up and fell into the water.  I guess the shoggoth was a little greasy even for one of Dagon’s kin.  I wonder if they make Alka seltzer in Great Old One size.

Luckily (or unfortunately) I had my camera with me during the event and I had the presence of mind to capture the great creature returning through the haunted wood.

I intend to send this photographic evidence to the Department of Cryptozoological Studies at Miskatonic University where I studied under the eminent dagonologist Clyde Crashcupp.  With his decades of study and razor-sharp brain he’s sure to earn at least a Nobel prize with this evidence.  I may have to lend him a tux.  He’s kind of a hermit and wears a rope to hold his pants up.

Well, I’d better get back to my chores.  There’s a family of ghouls in the neighborhood and I need to get the fences fixed before they wander by.