Comments or suggestions: Gerard Van der Leun
The Liberal Porn of Michael Moore

The problem

Let's say you have an inordinate need for cheeseburgers but, like Wimpy, find yourself constantly short of the cash needed to support your corpulence.

Let's say you are stuck in a dead-end town in a dead-end life. All you have to your name is a borrowed bunch of movie equipment and not much skill in making movies.


Posted by Vanderleun Jun 28, 2007 11:15 AM | Comments (3)  | QuickLink: Permalink
When Bad News Is Good


Like many I subscribe to email services that promise to alert you to what is called "Breaking News." This is, one supposes going in, a service that will tell you when something important or earth-shattering happens. That way you'll be "in the know" right away.


Posted by Vanderleun Jun 26, 2007 10:07 AM | Comments (5)  | QuickLink: Permalink
Will the Sleepers Awake?

(May, 2002, New York City) Just before dawn in Brooklyn Heights a dream woke me. Far short of a nightmare, it was one of those troubled dreams where emblems of your past, present and perhaps future lives proliferate and chitter in an obscure but oddly familiar landscape. Unsettled but gratified, I dutifully scribbled notes for discussion later in the week with my therapist. I made the notes for fear of forgetting and for fear that I would again find myself at the therapist's with nothing to talk about that seemed worthy of discussion.

In the cities, in the professions, therapy is what we do. In a way, therapy is a token of having made it; having become so affluent that you can blow a lot of money examining the proposition "If you're so rich, why aren't you happy." My dawn fear was one of the many scrawny fears of "higher" civilization. Millions of Americans know, have known, or will know this petty little fear; the fear of having nothing to say, having nothing to think about. You've paid for the hour, the hour is "all about you," and yet this all this 'stuff,' your 'stuff', seems to you only shameful and small and not really worth discussing at all. Not with yourself and certainly not with a paid stranger.

Millions also know the off-the-shelf response to their complaint from the therapist. "It is your therapy and it is supposed to be all about you. It is in these petty and small details that you discover the larger truths that will, it is hoped, lead you into some future where, when all is understood, all is mollified, soothed, and finally forgiven." It is a palliative procedure that leads but to a palliated end -- forgiveness of the self by the self. Some time soon.

In our therapies, our confessions, or even our "sessions of sweet, silent thought," we seek this damp and thin forgiveness with a constant compulsion. We seek this forgiveness for the damp and thin things made of cardboard we have become in ever increasing numbers. We seek it because the culture we have created has expunged our myths, given us nothing larger than ourselves in place of them and, even though we might yearn for things larger than ourselves, there seems to be nothing but ourselves before us wherever we turn. It is a culture of fun-house mirrors. And so we work, in these reflections, with our stuff; our small lump of clay that we know will never be the stone of Mt. Rushmore. Lacking real stature, done with gods and heroes, we seek to purchase forgiveness for our smallness.

We seek it from the therapist, even though he will tell us it is ourselves that will forgive us. (Or, as he puts it, "understanding.") At times of trial, we seek it from our idea of God, even though our priests cannot be trusted and will tell us to "Go and sin no more." (Difficult advice to follow these days when you consider the some of the sources and their increasingly demented and God-shunning theologies.) We even, it seems, we seek forgiveness from our dreams.

But we wake up from dreams and the world awaits us, the world moving "on its metalled ways of time past and time future." And the work of the world is there to be done, whatever our roles in that work may be -- most of which are, if we were frank, absurd. For the world is no longer about ourselves at all, but pressingly, inevitably and enduringly about all the others with whom we share the world, its sordid and strange past, its perplexing present, and its unknowable future.

In our immediate orbit of work and family it is, in a sense, "our world" and is what we make it day by day. But our day is of course involved in a much larger world of ever expanding and overlapping circles where greater issues and duties than our small needs, fears and hopes hold sway, and ring the changes of our times, and open wide --just when we think we have nailed them shut -- the doors of history. It is at these times the larger circles of events and moments impinge on our small and pleasant worlds to draw our attention and allegiance to the large and looming issues that shape and shift the larger landscapes.

In these last eight months, I've been reading an inordinate number of books and articles on war and on history and on what the immediate future might bring. Like millions of other Americans, the 11th of September drew my attention in an immediate and violent manner. I've become, I think, both more thoughtful about the present state of the world as well as angry about America's unprepared condition when it was forced to return to history. Living here in Brooklyn directly across from the fire that was the World Trade Center, I've also become very sensitive to the sound of airplanes overhead. (A single engine plane is heading west to east at this moment, the sound fading to silence instead of an explosion so I assume that it is safe and being safely handled and tracked.) Indeed, it is usually airplanes overhead that wake me in the morning rather than dreams.

Smiling experts sitting knee to knee gazing into nation's morning teleprompters inform us that many New Yorkers have trouble sleeping these last months because we have "unresolved issues and anxieties." Hogwash as usual. Any anxieties we might have had strike me now as fully resolved. I like to think we simply know first hand that evil and enemies exist and how quickly these enemies can destroy your city, and that other Americans have yet to learn this lesson up close and personal. A lesson that I hope they will never learn, but one that I am resigned to seeing taught again in the near future, since many in my country seem not to have learned it yet, even those who stood in the ashes of all those who died in the Towers. In America in 2002 it still seems to me that we have an inordinate fondness for sleep, dreams and forgetting. After all, one of the primary things we habitually do with our dreams is to forget them upon waking.

All of which is a periphrastic way to say that, after waking and scribbling down the notes about the dream before they escaped me, my first thoughts went to a passage in a book I've been reading, "Culture and Carnage: Landmark Battles in the Rise of Western Power" by Victor Davis Hanson. This is a book in which historic and deadly encounters between nations and powers are detailed from the battle of Salamis in 480 BC to the Tet offensive in Vietnam.

Two days ago I read Hanson's chapter on the American torpedo bombers that attacked the Japanese fleet at the battle of Midway. The chapter makes it clear that these bombers and their American crews were, because of the obsolescence of the machines coupled with the heroic commitment of their crews, doomed to destruction from the outset, and that the crews knew this. Still their selfless courage in pressing their attack forward made the victory of Midway, and the turning of the tide in the Pacific during the opening year of America's Second World War, possible. It's a vivid account of sacrifice for the sake of a greater good and a larger victory.

But what came to my mind on waking today were not the details of the battle but of what Hanson writes as a kind of epitaph to the men of the torpedo bombers who sacrificed themselves:

"To the modern American at the millennium, these carrier pilots of more than a half century ago -- Massey, Waldron, and Lindsey last seen fighting to free themselves in a sea of flames as their planes were blasted apart by Zeros -- now appear as superhuman exemplars of what constituted heroism in the bleak months after the beginning of World War II. Even their names seem almost caricatures of an earlier stalwart American manhood -- Max Leslie, Lem Massey, Wade McClusky, Jack Waldron -- doomed fighters who were not all young eighteen-year-old conscripts, but often married and with children, enthusiastic rather than merely willing to fly their decrepit planes into a fiery end above the Japanese fleet, in a few seconds to orphan their families if need be to defend all that they held dear. One wonders if an America of suburban, video-playing Nicoles, Ashleys and Jasons shall ever see their like again."

"One wonders ... if we shall ever see their like again."

A light rain is falling on this street in Brooklyn Heights in this spring of 2002. Somewhere across the East River a fire still smolders deep underground. I would like to think that the kind of men described in that passage above can still be called up out of this nation in the numbers necessary to our tasks ahead. We've seen their like on horseback lately in Afghanistan, but these are our 'Special Forces,' limited in number. I'd also like to think that we have at last been woken from our long sleep of comfort, therapy, money, and ever-expanding special pleadings that have splintered us with the promise of bringing us together. Still I know the our national temptation is always to roll over, hit the snooze bar, and try to grab a few more years of rest even as the enemies of our world patiently plan to assault us again and again, convinced of the weakness of our Nicoles, Ashleys, and Jasons, and the culture which has created and coddles them.

Our enemies have, as they have shown, great patience. They have more patience than we have shown, and a far deeper commitment to attaining their dark goals. They are the Believers while we are still the Dreamers, waking only briefly to write down a few notes for discussion later in the week, during the hour when all that is threatening to us in this darkening world is really only the shadows of ourselves.

Posted by Vanderleun Jun 23, 2007 7:53 AM | Comments (12)  | QuickLink: Permalink
American Digest -- 4 Years Old... Maybe 5
Original 2002 Logo
This June marks the 4th Anniversary of this page. My handy counters note 4,384,000 visits, 11,707 comments (weeded the spam), and 3,017 posts including this one. And, from way back in June, 2003, this list of things that ticked me off then: The Brand Extension Blight @ AMERICAN DIGEST . The list has only gotten longer.

But thanks to all for stopping by. None of you are on that list. [Well, maybe a few, and you know who you are.]


Posted by Vanderleun Jun 22, 2007 12:23 PM | Comments (10)  | QuickLink: Permalink
Climate Books Cooked?


Back in Chico, CA, local weatherman Anthony Watts is making big news in the global climate change discussion. Watts has been a fixture in the North State scene for many years, as broadcaster, renewable energy wonk, school board trustee, and lovable local crank.

He started investigating weather stations that are part of the United States Historical Climatology Network (USHCN), maintained by the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA). They provide the raw data that is used to calculate the increase in surface temperatures, at least in the US.

And some of them are poorly sited. The photo above is in Marysville, CA, and is improperly located near buildings, over asphalt, with several nearby sources of temperature distortion, including a metal cell tower, air conditioning exhaust vents, and a barbecue grill. The accompanying graph shows steadily increasing temperature readings.


The D.G.A.S. Election Phase

Monday brought us, as all tedious news days must, the MEGO news that Republican, Democratic Presidential Contests Strikingly Similar -- Fred Thompson surges into tie with John McCain. "Surges" to a "tie?" "Strikingly Similar?" Well, slap me silly, butter my biscuit, and wake me when its over.

There are times when I believe that the current "Long and Winding Road" tour of these Republican and Democrat plastic frogs huffing


Posted by Vanderleun Jun 20, 2007 9:45 AM | QuickLink: Permalink
Every Thorn Has a Rose
rosethorn.jpg gazaworse.jpg
  • "Five years ago, Middle Eastern extremists were killing Israelis and Americans. Today they are killing each other. Why is it that some people persist in claiming that Israel's and America's Middle East policy is a failure?" -- Alan Chamberlain

A friend in Israel notes that, during the previous week, whenever the television news would announce a possible ceasefire between the Palestinian factions of Hamas and Fatah, her husband would shout towards the television, "No! No! Don't do it!"


Posted by Vanderleun Jun 14, 2007 5:37 PM | Comments (6)  | QuickLink: Permalink
The Fiddler Now Steps to the Road

With "Welcome to The Fred File" the keenly anticipated Republican Great White Hope, Fred Thompson, has entered the blogosphere with a daily blog which so far has captured his most important statements to the Net of late. As Thompson lopes up to his launch date on July 4th, (as ably reported by Webutante ) this not only be the candidate's blog to watch, but also the blogroll to watch as one Thompson-pumping site after another pushes to be included in this impeccable list of blogs that actually matter.

So far Thompson's blogroll is off to a good start wisely listing the blogs that are likely to be of most use to Thompson. At the same time, it's a good selection of the blogs for whom Thompson might be of use as well. That's the point of blogrolling.


Posted by Vanderleun Jun 14, 2007 8:34 AM | Comments (2)  | QuickLink: Permalink
And the Most Despised Man in America Award Goes to... "Judge" Roy Pearson

"Judge" Roy Pearson!

We've all had experiences with big liars, but this schmuck is currently set to take away the Liar of the Decade Award. And like all who go for the big lie, it's little wonder he can rope in some other sad-sacks to augment his lie. And, true to the pattern of lies and, there's always a misty moment for crocodile tears in order that nobody dare doubt the "sincerity" of the lie. After all, if you can see the liar feels bad, that must mean he's telling the truth. Right? Right.

The latest inch of the slime trail exuding from "Judge and Lawyer" Roy Pearson in his legalized assault and battery on an immigrant Korean couple came yesterday with tears and his latest prop, a wheelchair bound woman:


Posted by Vanderleun Jun 14, 2007 6:22 AM | Comments (3)  | QuickLink: Permalink
Lefter Than Thou (Richer Too)

"Jack" Edwards gestures appropriately when announcing his "plan"

It's sometimes hard to know what to think of the sole surviving metrosexual from the Democrats' 2004 debacle, but not always.


Posted by Vanderleun Jun 8, 2007 11:39 AM | Comments (5)  | QuickLink: Permalink
Will I Blend?

Let's review. Perfect Saturday Summer afternoon..... but, well, there's loads of laundry to do, and the gardening is really backed up, and the car needs a waxing..... What to do?

This needs careful planning. I know, I shall get out my foremost planning tool, the blender.


Posted by Vanderleun Jun 2, 2007 5:02 PM | Comments (6)  | QuickLink: Permalink
G2E Media GmbH



Please Donate


By Mail: Gerard Van der Leun | 6616-D Clark Road #176 | Paradise, CA 95969

It's past, long past, time.

Panel by Bornt
There is only one appropriate reaction to the kind of people who strap on bomb vests packed with nails and wait for smiling, laughing tweens to come along before hitting the detonator and ripping their limbs off and tearing their guts out.
The only appropriate reaction is righteous fury that turns into a grim determination to exact a retribution upon the bomber’s bros so thorough and so comprehensive that in a thousand years the few descendants of the survivors will still terrify their children with the story of the vengeance exacted by the avengers of the West. Fewer Tears, Fewer Lies, And More Righteous Anger - Kurt Schlichter

If my child were ever killed in such an attack,

I would go on a God-damned (and I don’t make this invocation lightly) one man Crusade for vengeance.
God may have said “vengeance is mine” but I would damn my soul to Hell to get even with anybody who attacked my family. So the passivity and magical invocations of the Progressives grates on my nerves. It’s disgustingly naive and utterly insane. It is the man who passively bows down to his executioner instead of fighting to the last. I don’t understand it. I can’t fathom it.Candlelight Progressive Magic... Again | Declination

Everybody Must Get Chipped!


Swedish Tech Company Implants Microchips in Employees Bodies to Make Their Lives Easier
“We already interact with technology all the time,” Epicenter employee Hannes Sjoblad told the BBC, in 2015. “Today it’s a bit messy – we need pin codes and passwords. Wouldn’t it be easy to just touch with your hand? That’s really intuitive.” “We want to be able to understand this technology before big corporates and big government come to us and say everyone should get chipped – the tax authority chip, the Google or Facebook chip,” Hannes added, convinced that this way he will be able to question the way the technology is implemented from a position of much greater knowledge.

The Revolution has moved onto a new phase.

In the French Revolution, after the White Terror, the Constitution of 1795 established The Directory.
This was the start of a new phase in which the lower classes were mostly ignored, as the new ruling class consolidated its power. That may be what we are seeing with our managerial class as they largely ignore the results of recent elections and enforce discipline in their own ranks. Ruminations On The Way Down The Mountain | The Z Blog

A Window Looking Over "Happy Acres" is Here


Tumblr killed off his site there without warning. Twitter still tolerates him, but Twitter will purge him.
For now he's at: HappyAcres (@HappyHectares) | Twitter I tried to tell him that he needs to get his own platform. If on Twitter tell him too. We will need the sites we like to survive and not be killed off by Jack and other Neojacobins of his ilk.

Trump was a political asteroid impact


The idea that someone who shakes parmesan from a can contravened the wishes of those who can taste the difference between serrano and iberico Jamón is simply unacceptable.
Maxine Waters, Nacy Pelosi, Barbra Boxer and Al Green, are so far removed from traditional America as to be alien life forms. Outside of the 6 -7 major media/political centers in the US, the rest of the population simply do not factor into the equation until election time returns. The Price of Delegitimization – The Virginia Freeman's Society

" This is Topic A -- and there is no Topic B until further notice... "

Manchester: This Time They Came for Our Children

Politicians and the media particularly must face reality. We may not like it but we are at war. You should behave accordingly. This is Topic A -- and there is no Topic B until further notice... that is unless you want Manchester actually to be the "new normal." It pretty much is already. How horrible is that for all of us, how horrible for our children. Why don't we all get together and put an end to it? It's even more important than impeaching Trump.

The truth of the matter is that modern universities are not in the business of leader-making.

Our leaders these days come from other places, or other times;
because our institutions of higher learning have turned their energy to licensing managers to serve as the officers of our managerial oligarchy. According to Patrick Dennan, students these days are “…the culmination of western civilization, a civilization that has forgotten nearly everything about itself, and as a result, has achieved near-perfect indifference to its own culture.” If You Don’t Read Books… | Joel D. Hirst's Blog

"We won’t need to build new holding cells on Guantanamo Bay this time."

In this case, the visuals will be provided by future terror attacks.

That reinforces the “evil” part, obviously. But more importantly, the Losers will be doing nothing but losing on the battlefield from now until “annihilation.” They are surrounded, and the clock is ticking. Oh, and the press isn’t allowed to watch the final battles. In other words, we won’t need to build new holding cells on Guantanamo Bay this time. No press means no prisoners, if you know what I mean. (American soldiers won’t be shooting the prisoners. We have allies for that sort of thing.)Goodbye ISIS, Hello Losers | Scott Adams' Blog

How To Make It As A Left-Wing Polemicist

Has your novel just not flowed from your fingertips like you’d imagined?
Does each year of being an adjunct professor feel less fulfilling than the last? Starting to think that no amount of Adderall can launch you past the boredom of your role as a research assistant? Could it be that so much time has passed since you last picked up your guitar that it wouldn’t even be possible to get the old band back together again?

Do you seek validation? Are you hungry for permanent and hip confrontational posturing? Still having dreams about the glory of radical nonconformity? Eager to purge your upper-middle class and white guilt? Want to do something new with your life, but want to rely on the skills you already have instead of learning new ones?

I’ve got just the thing for you: become a left-wing critic of the mainstream American Left. It’s easy, really, and no matter what, your Twitter following will increase at least five-fold. How To Make It As A Left-Wing Polemicist - Social Matter

The Japanese. Nuked Too Much or Sleeping with the Fish?


Japan's adult wrapping wellness trend is so weird it's creeping out the Japanese people | SoraNews24
In otona maki, participants lie down on a large, sheet-like piece of cloth. An attendant then wraps them up snugly, leaving their face completely obscured their knees tucked up near their waist, and their overall posture resembling the fetal position. The only openings are two small gaps near the participants’ midsection, left over from how the cloth is tied.

I am the king of lost places.


Nowhere-land. The triangular mud minarets of Sankore Mosque in Timbuktu, in front of that silent sandy plaza that used to host a university, back when life in Timbuktu had significance.
A Catholic seminary converted into a hostel in the old Belgian administrative center called Lubero tucked in the highlands of eastern Congo – blue helmets and razor wire waiting to accept the genocidaire; monsters who had decided upon the extinguishing of another race. Eating escargot and drinking warm beer with the priests. The cement and zinc-roofed house of a witch in a village in northern Nicaragua, sitting in front of her on a rocking chair imploring her to release the sick under her spell so I could take them for hospital care. The King of Lost Places | Joel D. Hirst's Blog

Occupation of a defeated America

would take a form other than garrisoning huge numbers of troops and running the place as a prison camp, the standard motif of doomer movies and novels.
The likeliest would be a Vichy-type puppet government that took care to mimic our current structure and outward forms. Just as in France, they'd have little trouble finding reliable, unprincipled opportunists already in place and eager to serve. Woodpile Report

"Black Lives Matter might more accurately be named White Killers Matter,

because it only seems to care about black lives that are ended by white people.

And that, of course, is because Black Lives Matter isn’t about justice, but about racial agitation."
But the routine taking of black lives by other blacks generates no interest in the mainstream media. Forty-three hundred people, including two dozen children under the age of 12, were shot in Chicago last year. Had 4,300 white people been shot, there would have been a revolution, and the media would have set up headquarters in the city to cover the breakdown of law and order. But because the victims were nearly all black, few pay attention—besides the police. Some Black Lives Don’t Matter | City Journal

The Way It Is

They ain't gonna do jack shitski.
At least nothing of physical context to anyone, cept maybe a couple pisswillys that needed it. On a large scale, say, several hundred people? Not hardly. Look cross eyed at em and they'll be slip-slidin in their own loose fecal matter. Then, with gas mask applied and industrial grade boot covers, just walk amongst them with a 28" Louisville Slugger crackin heads in both directions. Posted by: ghostsniper at May 20, 2017 8:25 PM

If they do break Trump, I don't think the genie goes back in the bottle.
I think the days of leftist pissants grinding our faces in the dirt under the threat of government coercion are over. How it will evolve, I don't know but I don't think it will be peaceful. Posted by: Bill Cox at May 21, 2017 5:13 AM
The Top 40: This is not about Donald Trump’s alleged character defects.

Why do many people want to deny us our past?

Why does the brutishness of our ancestors offend so?

And why do the stories of tremendous resilience, of family and purpose and fight and faith offend them? We are told that because they were not perfect – that they held prejudice in their hearts or often misbehaved – we are not to look to them; certainly not as a means to better understand ourselves. As if we are not even now brutish and vile – albeit in different ways. As if the progress we have been sold, so carefully scraped of all vestiges of the past, is even healthy – even progress at all really, instead of another dark age served to us by know-nothings.Castles, Civilizations and the Know-Nothings | Joel D. Hirst

Memes that Make You Go, "Hummmmm..."

House of Eratosthenes

Two New Things Under the Sun

Louis Réard, the inventor of bikini, with a model in 1946.
He named his creation after the Bikini Atoll, which was the site of nuclear weapon tests, as he felt his new swimsuit would create an “explosive commercial and cultural reaction.”

Why the C-130 Is Such a Badass Plane


Designed to carry only 90 paratroopers, the Hercules's belly was bursting with far more people than that.
Its lone pilot, a VNAF major, pushed its four Allison T56 turboprops to full throttle and began his takeoff down the 10,000 foot runway. At the opposite end of the runway, the airplane still hadn't taken wing. But in the runway's 1000-foot overrun, the C-130 staggered into the air. After a harrowing flight, it touched down three and a half hours later at U Tapao Royal Thai AB, southeast of Bangkok. On the ramp, American personnel were visibly surprised as they watched 452 people disembark. With herculean effort, the C-130 had lifted more than 20,000 pounds above its operational limit. -- Popular Mechanics

This is not about Donald Trump’s alleged character defects.

The Resistance would have arisen against whoever represented Americans who had voted not to be governed as they have been for the past quarter-century.
It is a cold civil war against a majority of the American people and their way of life. The members of the Resistance mean to defend their power. Their practical objective is to hamper and otherwise delegitimize 2016’s winners. Their political objective is to browbeat Trump voters into believing they should repent and yield to their betters. This campaign might break the Trump presidency. The Cold Civil War

Racism: The Last Refuge of Us All?

Race is what you cling to when you have no meaningful achievements of your own to display.
It’s a safe space for the unaccomplished. That’s why there’s been such an explosion of racism on the left, especially among some of its less successful demographic groups. When you have nothing to offer, or when you just don’t want to make the effort to be successful or productive, well…at least you have your skin. And the left has proved to be expert at making everything about skin. With so many layabouts, welfare cases, entitlement whores, and blame shifters among the masses, leftist intellectuals in politics, the media, and academia gain lots of traction by continually reassuring certain constituencies, “Hey, man, your skin color makes you special! Your skin color makes you deserving!” - David Cole

No. Just No.


Uniquely Designed Jeans That Easily Convert Into High Cut Shorts Either In Front or On the Side

“Weapons are the tools of power.

In the hands of the state, they can be the tools of decency or the tools of oppression, depending on the righteousness that state.
In the hands of criminals, they are the tools of evil. In the hands of the free and decent citizen, they should be the tools of liberty. Weapons compound man’s power to achieve whatever purpose he may have. They amplify the capabilities of both the good man and the bad, and to exactly the same degree, having no will of their own. Thus, we must regard them as servants, not masters–and good servants of good men. Without them, man is diminished, and his opportunities to fulfill his destiny are lessened. An unarmed man can only flee from evil, and evil is not overcome by fleeing from it.” — Attributed to Col. Jeff Cooper [via Power Tools – waka waka waka]

☛ Thinking Right Archives