I've been noticing something for a few years. In general, the willingness of women to degrade themselves. Through illegitimate whelps to wretched body art to piercings to, finally, a rather boastful obesity that I never saw in my youth. Women have become, quite literally, pigs. Enormous, tattooed, uncouth pigs.
It's all attention-grabbing, of course. Which is what feminine wiles have been since time immemorial. But now it is to seek each others' attention. Women don't need men anymore, anyhows. Except for perverted Uncle Sam. No, they attention-grab for each others' attention. As someone who has been in work environments more female than male for the last four years I am astonished at the covens of vulgarity around me. It is repulsive.
But please allow me to explore one tiny area that disaffects my soul: the common sneeze. Now, I'm embarrassed to sneeze in public. And I always carry a handkerchief. Because: diseases, damn it. For the majority of my life if you sneezed in public you at least covered your offending nostrils, so as not to infect your fellowman.
Women now seem to take great relish in unprotected sneezing. It is boorish behavior. And the worst of it is the sounds. When a man sneezes one hears something akin to an Atchoo! When a female sneezes these days one is inundated with all manner of horrid screechings, shrieks, yelps, howls, barks, squeals, and ululations. All without benefit of hankie, all without shame.
I know what this is. They are marking their territory. Each female must out-bark the other's sneeze. Not marking territory for a man. They don't need a man. There is always some guy, no matter how far down the food chain, who will fuck them. Dirty Uncle Sam will fix all the other problems, such as the aforementioned whelps. No, they are establishing their own pecking order. One that is built upon outdisgusting the other females. I honestly think their heirarchy is built upon the size of their respective muffin-tops and chunkrolls.
I don't want your snot, and I don't want your cooties. Here's a little advice: it's a damned sneeze, ladies. Be mindful of the fact you may sneeze, have a kerchief handy, and show some decorum. It's a fucking sneeze, ladies. You aren't giving birth. Control yourselves. No barking like a dog to outbark your buddy. No high-pitched shrieks designed to make you the center of attention. For my attitude is like Reverend Wright's: Not God Bless You, but God Damn You! Take your Ebola elsewhere.
I realize I am painting with a rather broad brush here, but I ask you to notice the impudence and lack of hygiene the next time a woman sneezes. It is a rancid little microcosm of the complete defeminization of the distaff side of humanity. Something the male half has tolerated, I may add.
I for one am boycotting ink and chunkrolls going forward. A small gesture, to be sure. But one may as well start somewhere. I'm also wearing a SARS mask to work. Because fat girls outfarting each other is right around the corner.
Wanted: A National Football Champion.
Irish Need Not Apply.
I see more Hollywood types coming out of the closet for conservative values lately. I'm not going to scribble a litany here. Or name names and blacklist them. It is what it is.
And just as I post this here at Velociworld because I do not dare impugn myself on Facebook, it is both heartening, and a bit of a joke.
Being a Hollywood conservative is the new queer, however. The outre position. I'm not even sure half of these people know who Russell Kirk is, but, like Lenin, I'll take me a useful idiot. The important thing is, sucking another man's cock in Hollywood is a rather blase endeavor these days. That's a 100 year old tic. Quoting Friedrich Hayek, however, makes you an exotic beast. And we all know the exotic beast wins the game in that town.
It's beyond Method, or the Strasberg School. I am so far outside the fucking box you can't even deal with it, man! Even Dennis Hopper went conservative before he died. Why? Because that was stickin' it to the fuckin' man, asshole! And we should all want to stick it to the Man. I stick it to the Man. Do you?
A long way to go, to be sure. But I like the odds.
This is kind of inside baseball stuff, not really for your consumption. But I think the lyrics speak to a plethora of issues we can all relate to. And, in fact, I need to be told on a rather consistent basis that it is not for me to say. And Nat King Cole didn't sing this song.
See that gray area? The one that stretches from the Ogeechee River at Savannah to the Apalachicola River delta in the Florida panhandle? That's the entire range of the white tupelo tree. Or Ogeechee tupelo. Nyssa ogeche.
A rather nondescript tree, it mostly sprouts along river banks. Bee keepers set up bee houses along the rivers from the Ogeechee through the Okefenokee Swamp to the Apalachicola. And those bees make honey exclusively from the white tupelo. It's a light amber in color, and very delicious. And as it is high in laevulose and low in dextrose even diabetics can consume it. It is quite the rare delicacy. You can buy it here, I believe. Otherwise I find it on the side of the road at vegetable stands in the area.
Also, Van the Man, with a nice assist from Pee Wee Ellis, 1980:
Because Savannah wouldn't be Savannah without the Irish. The bloodthirsty fiends. I am of Pict ancestry, alas. Which explains my affinity for the color blue, and my otherwise inexplicable need to chase wild animals through the woods naked. Other than that, I got no excuses.
Have you ever been chased by a wild boar? I was, once, as a kid. It was pretty terrifying. And I'm relatively certain that was a domestic hog that had escaped, and in a year or so in the forest had reverted to his natural Lord of the Flies ethos. Kept me up a tree for two hours, at any rate.
Which brings me to my sermon. Man against the State. Man against the State. Man always loses that battle. Even in groups he is impotent against a Leviathan. As much as I admire the Tea Parties, the solution is not to send like minded souls to Washington. It is a corrupting wasteland, and they will either succumb, or be voted out for not bringing that fat, sweet bacon home. Because the same Man who votes for that fiscal hawk also, inexorably, still wants his bacon. He just doesn't want ne'er-do-wells in blue states to have his bacon. Besides, sending a Tea Partier to Washington is like sending your preacher into a whorehouse to clean it up. He's going to emerge in drunken stupor, without his pocket watch and Bible, and with a red wax ring around his willie.
No, I think, the solution is not tilting against the windmill that is the DC blob. It is in federalism. Real 10th Amendment federalism. States against the Leviathan. We all know the Constitution strictly enumerated the federal government's powers, and seeded the enormity of powers to the states. But Leviathan has been gobbling up those rights for 100 years, using a carrot and stick approach of funding bribes and the Commerce Clause. And each state has individually weakened, and capitulated.
But, what ho? The GOP now holds a large majority of governorships and statehouses. That election wasn't a blowout, and the Republicans control a lot of field level power. One man cannot beat back Leviathan, but 29 governors and statehouses can. If they coordinate, and play by the left's rules. Select specific areas where the federal government has usurped power, from education to highway construction to Medicaid allocations to, hell, drug laws, and sue the piss out of Leviathan's minions. Sue, sue, sue. Alinsky them.
Sue the EPA, sue the Interior Department, sue the Department of Health and Human Services. Sue the cabinet members individually. Sue czars. Find sympathetic federal courts and drag those czars' asses into court. Sue as groups of states, sue as individual states. Just file hundreds, if not thousands, of lawsuits. Most will be swept away by invoking immunity and the supremacy clause, but not all. At some point Leviathan will have to allocate resources. Pick their battles. Toss a few bones. Here's a thought: if five or six western states sue to allow energy exploration on federal lands some federal judge is eventually going to give them their day in court. The Supreme Court's mighty firewall could actually be a blessing here. Many appellate court decisions could be upheld.
Which brings me back to wild pigs. Being chased by one wild boar is a horrifying thing. Being chased by 25 could cause some serious hysteria in the Gilded City. Tip O'Neill famously said "All politics is local." True as far as it goes. Just remember: your governor is your neighbor, even if you have to travel to the Big City. He's a hell of a lot more local than your representative in Congress, who only comes home to run for reelection.
Here's an experiment: form some bullshit committee committed to saving the loggerhead turtles, or protecting abused women. Call your Governor's offices and request an audience. It might be six months, but you will get a breakfast, or a luncheon, or a photo op. This person still has to work the hamlets of Smut Eye, Alabama and Blue Balls, Pennsylvania and Santa Claus, Georgia. He isn't that distant Senator getting his horndog on in the DC.
Ten governors and 10,000 activists could change the world. Bring that power back to the states. Neuter Leviathan. And this isn't about "state's rights," or whatever euphemism passes for racism these days. It's about taking back what belongs to our states. To us. Forget Congress. Spend a day roaming your state house. Make a few friends. Buy the aides a beer after session. Get inside their heads. Let them know you're going forward with or without them.
We've lost a few states irrevocably. California's dead as a doornail. It's just like East Germany now. Except gays can window shop in the nude, and there is no Iron Curtain or Berlin Wall keeping sane people from fleeing California. But the Stasi is still there. The same old crowd. They just wear nipple rings now.
Jersey's toast, of course. But even New York has Wall Street. If they can smell power devolving to Albany those greedheads will be on board. I love the pure heart of a true capitalist. When I'm not hating on them for actually being crony capitalists. Which is what they really are. They'll merely rent-seek in Albany rather than DC. So, on second thought, scratch New York. Buy your securities in London.
I haven't enumerated much in the way of particular issues, but I will. I'm having enough trouble writing a preamble whilst getting my damn drink on. And, oh: never underestimate a local politician's opportunity to grab some power from someone else up the food chain. Use that as a tactical weapon. After all, at the end of the day, it's all about being a wild boar.
From Joanie, feeder of velocidiseases.
Let the circle be unbroken.
Well, I was certainly wrong about Petraeus pulling an Erwin Rommel on this, this thing. No, he doubled down, and swore under oath that what they thought they had heard him say under his first testimony (it was a video!) was not at all what he had actually said (it was terrists!). That's a hell of a gamble, with your palm print still warm on the Bible.
Layer on the preposterous notion that no one knows who deleted his It was terrists! line from his talking points before handing them to an affirmative action bubblehead to repeat ad nauseum one fine Sunday. Layer on the claims that NO ONE in the White House knew it was terrists! Layer on the truth that Obama lied his fucking ass off during a national debate and was cossetted and protected in real time by some manner of deranged, shotgun-nostrilled hippopotamus. The same kind of real time wherein Obama watched Chris Stevens' compound getting destroyed, lit a Newport, and said "Tell 'em to stand down."
Of course, one man's real time is another man's terrist. Or something like that.
I suppose the subtext of the general's testimony was Sure, I lied to you last time, but it wasn't under oath, and I ain't gonna admit it. Besides, these guys had my nuts in a vise. You know how that is, boys. Plus, Obama had greased my hidskagleous, low-functioning orc-bride with a $187,000 do-nothing job. All she had to do at work was wear a Joker mask so as not to scare her coworkers. I was compromised, I tell ya!
I ain't no ensorcelor. I look at crystal balls and see clear glass. I can't divine the future. I look at sheep entrails and I see guts. Or a nice Kenyan village feast. I have no idea how this whole thing unspools. I do know Borax will have to loan someone their 20 mule team to drag the media into exploring this wretched mess.
My guess is no one will ever discover who delicately "edited" the CIA's talking points, and deleted any reference to Al Qaeda. Nor will we ever learn who first espoused the video narrative that keeps a man imprisoned to this day. You know, Putin looks at that imprisoned bastard and thinks Nice....!
Another thing: will the FBI be held accountable for their serious breaches? This social climber approached an FBI agent friend about some bitchgirl emails. He bit. Offense #1: FBI agents by regulation do not participate in cases they have personal involvement in. Then they realized it was not criminal, much less a national security threat, and yet they pursued, because Petraeus' name emerged. Why?
Offense #2, which is illegal: the FBI had no jurisdiction to pursue this case. It didn't even rise to the level of a criminal complaint, which is not their jursidiction. Absent national security, they should have fucked off.
The FBI will cover their asses and say they had to explore the national security threat posed by potential blackmail. Well, if that was the case, they had a legal obligation to inform the President. That's Offense #3. You can't have it both ways. You cannot say out of one side of your mouth that the President needn't be informed because it was only a possible criminal issue, then claim out of the other side of your issue-filled mouth the only reason you were involved in the first place is because it was a national security concern. Get your lies straight, godammit.
I have no doubt this will not impact Obama. Even as I am sure he lit that fucking Newport and issued the stand down. At least LBJ had to blackmail you to get your pecker in his pocket. These media poufs just keep walking up to Jay Carney and willfully popping them off and handing them over. Offerings to a benevolent godhead.
That's the foreskinshadowing. Somehow, amazingly and coincidentally, conveniently released salacious sexcapades will inevitably draw our attention away from the Troubles of the Regime. I saw this coming five years ago. Failure, scandal, cover up. Even as the battered wife tells everyone she fell down the stairs, these enabling cocksuckers will cover for their fantasy love object, even as he impugns their already very disreputable reputations. This is a big fucking deal, as crazy Uncle Joe might say. Presiding over the slaughter of one's countrymen for political gain is a big fucking deal. Heads should roll. Especially the one with big, bumpy ears.
P.S. I must credit Supergurl for the foreskinshadowing terminology. I'd love to take credit for it, but at least I can take solace in the fact that you will never know the original context in which it was uttered.
One should always end a good evening with The Sundown. Now comes Angel Eyes. Such beautiful music to presage the arrival of such evil.
Chickens not only come home to roost. They usually lay eggs when they do so. Obama's been running from Benghazi like the title character in Cornbread, Earl, and Me. But he can't hide. Because ultimately someone will decide he ain't falling on that unicorn spire. Someone will decide he or she doesn't want to go down in history as the patsy.
So who will be the weak sister? Who will cave first to protect their own hide, and Obama be damned?
Not Petraeus. He realizes how badly he's destroyed himself. There is no way he goes under oath and contradicts the unsworn testimony he already gave at Obama's behest. As a soldier, I expect he'll probably French kiss a 1911 before this is over with. Old soldiers never die. Their brainpans just fade away.
Susan Rice? Certainly not. She can always claim, and in fact Obama is insisting, she was outside the loop. She was supposedly regurgitating what she was told. I'm not saying she'll be confirmed as Secretary of State, but she'll skate on this debacle.
National Security Advisor Tom Donilon? Doubtful. A career Washington insider, he's held positions at Fannie Mae and DC lobbyist law firms. He's the ultimate greaseball lawyer who can claim the shit was above his pay grade. He'll be hired in a second when this rolls over.
Question: why is a greaseball DC lawyer the National Security Advisor? His credentials are what, precisely? Intelligence background? CIA? Nope. He's a fucking fixer. The National Security Advisor is a greaseball fixer.
Hillary Clinton? I'm not sure the Chicago Machine wants to go to the mattresses with the Hot Springs Gang. That would be like the Iran-Iraq War. Shame both sides couldn't lose, but the collateral damage would be unconscionable even for these gangsters.
No, you've all seen the picture below anyway at this point. The weak sister is Brother Leon. He is the pussy who will roll over and squeal. A lifetime partisan hack, he had somehow been plucked from future obscurity by the Administration and morphed into something of an above-the-fray statesman. As if. He is actually of a sort with Holder and Biden. Thick, corrupt, and venal.
Say what you want about the FDR Brain Trust. One may have abhorred their Progressive machinations at the time, but one could not deny Roosevelt did indeed seek out the best and brightest with a similar mindset. Obama? He sought, and seeks, the weak, the knavish, the profane.
Brother Leon fit the bill. Just a shill. And an especially supine one. He's never been a Blue Light Progressive Fanatic, anyway. He's worse than that. He's just a rent seeker, a hitcher of wagons. A shoer of horses' asses. His zeal is waning, I guarantee. He's seeking safe harbor, repudiation, and a life without bars or bumfuckery. He'll cave for no other reason than everyone else has plausible deniability except him. The music's over. Brother Leon finds himself a chair short. Let the Games begin.
What happened November 6th? Well, Obama won, if you haven't heard. What didn't happen? The White House didn't flip. The Senate didn't flip. The House didn't flip. $2 billion later, nothing much changed. The GOP garnered even more governorships, and more statehouses. No big shit there. We all know there's no power beyond Washington anymore, so those are just Miss Congeniality contests.
But what happened? Two things.
The Democrats beat the Republicans like runaway slaves on the ground game. They hustled, they got out the vote, for better or worse they isolated demographics and played upon their fears and ignorance. That's all fair. Democrats live politics. They are community organizers. It's what they do. And they did it very well. And they had the Chicago Machine behind them, as formidable a force as politics has ever known. They steal, they commit fraud, they commit crimes. But they don't even have to, to win. They just do that for fun. Republicans can't get up enough activists for a sandlot baseball game. You can't win the game if you don't show up.
And speaking of baseball, I've voted in 10 presidential elections now. Won 5, lost 5. That's batting .500. If I'm a professional ballplayer I'm in the fucking Hall of Fame. As I am not a professional ballplayer I am the median outcome in a cosmic game of coin flips.
This is where it gets hairy. Anyone can learn to out-hustle the other side. That's just focus. It's worse than that. Obama won for the same reason the Greeks are rioting in the streets, and the Spaniards, Irish, and Italians are right behind them. Despite the smiles and the uplifting rhetoric, Romney's message was essentially one of austerity: we'll have to suck it up and tighten the belt before it gets better. And America did not want to hear that message. It burns.
Look, a lot of Boomers are going to retire in the next 4 years. And they don't want their applecart upset. Republican or Democrat. They paid in for 30-40 years. Don't fuck me now. Let me sit on my ass for the next 4 years, kick the can down the road one more time, and find my safe harbor.
It's as simple as that. We are indolent Greeks, only we actually produced for the last generation, and don't you dare touch that, you cocksucker. It is insanely selfish insofar as the next two generations go, but there is no decency left in this society. Every rat for himself.
Sliced and diced, I read a dozen different ways the Republicans lost. Most valid. But those are the symptoms. The diagnosis is thrombosis, as Jesse might say. I don't see the wheel turning for 10 or 12 years, but when it does it will be an outraged and vengeful Millennial demographic, likely libertarian with no care whatsoever for social issues, that will be dragging all of our asses, Democrat and Republican alike, off to be shot.
As we sow the dragon's teeth, so shall we reap. All of us. I'm surprised my children even consider me a human being at this point.
When Obama tapped Petraeus for head of CIA everyone knew why, including Petraeus. His popularity made him an eventual political threat that had to be neutralized. Better to have him in house, and under the thumb. And Petraeus took it, of course. Why? Ego, in a sense. Resume-padding in a larger sense. He was looking at the speech circuit, and adding Director of Central Intelligence probably ramps him from $25,000 a speech to $40,000.
I knew this would not end well for him. But fuck him. I ain't his nanny. His hubris is his nanny. You win enough gaming scenarios in war college you start to think you're something special. Here's a little secret: nobody's special. Even Stephen Hawking can occasionally digitally blather some insanely stupid shit.
There's an inherent problem with generals. Colonels are made by merit. Generals are made by Congress. Which means at least one corrupt fucker already has your pecker in his pocket. Generals, by and large, quit being soldiers when they reach flag rank, and become politicians. Or at least a now overly cautious gamer. That's why it is colonels, not generals, who are always the political game changers. They can gain. Generals always lose when the balance of power shifts.
Armas, Guatemala, 1954: Colonel. Coup d'etat.
Papadopoulos and buddies, Greece, 1967: Colonels. Coup d'etat.
Qaddafi, Libya, 1969: Colonel. Coup d'etat.
Nimeiry, Sudan, 1969: Colonel. Coup d'etat.
Acheampong, Ghana, 1972: Colonel. Coup d'etat.
Tejero, Spain, 1981: Colonel. Failed coup d'etat.
Noriega, Panama, 1982: Colonel. Coup d'etat.
This list could go on. One could make the case that colonels are highly skilled, and motivated, and denied the food trough. The goodies. They are therefore hungry jackals. But what does that make the generals? Arrivistes, I reckon. Skilled at battlefield war, unskilled on the battlefields of the Senate cloak room, the West Wing.
It's a tough thing for a person to become a general, a god among his men, only to realize he's actually some senator's aide's bitch. Some shrug it off and don't play the game. They retire with 1 or 2 stars. Guys like Petraeus think they're smarter than the average bear. They won gaming theory in war college! They run 10 miles a day, and write essential policy papers for Foreign Affairs. What they truly are is dupes. Rubes. Out of their depth because they don't even understand the game they're playing. Don't know who the mark is? You're probably the mark.
And so Petraeus was seduced by a Democratic political operative. Hubris. Now his mighty reputation is soiled beyond repair, his marriage is likely sundered, his prospects on the lecture circuit zilch. This is what Democrats do to the gullible, and the prideful. Don't ever get in bed with these scorpions. They are vile creatures, with no conscience and no soul.
Oh: did I mention Petraeus will take the fall for Benghazi? Of course he will. Obama is even now teeing up a Big Bertha driver, and Petraeus' head is the little dimpled ball on the tee. He'll slice it like he always does, but that don't matter.
John Condon fixed my Apocalypto! sign off. I like this:
You know, the "Mo Bettah!" motto isn't some Jamaican thing. It was the motto of a company of native Hawaiians who served with exemplary dignity in World War II. As did Japanese-Americans, even as their relatives were incarcerated in concentration camps by Democrats. Mexican-Americans also showed great bravery in the Big War in their segregated units.
And, as Napoleon famously said, an army marches on its stomach.
So here's to the fry cooks. I don't think we lost too many fry cooks in that war.
Barack Obama should hope he loses Tuesday, if for no other reason than to enshrine his presidency as a mere failure. Should he win, it will be the second term of Richard Nixon.
I lived through those times, as most of us did, and they were not pretty. It's one thing to impeach Bill Clinton for lying about getting his cock sucked. And which, at the time, I thought was an insane GOP ploy. By God, he'd sold missile guidance systems to the Chinese for campaign cash. THAT was the crime. Not frakking blow jobs. But Benghazi? Hanging souls over the precipice, indeed signing their death warrants, for political gain?
Aaron Burr would bullwhip Obama for that. It is the most egregious dereliction of duty a Commander in Chief has ever committed.
So, should Obama win, at least I have a ringside seat at the utter destruction and humiliation of that pompous beast.