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Noted in Passing: Trodden Weed, 1951

“Andrew Wyeth painted this picture shortly after the muscles in his shoulder had been severed.  He couldn’t even hold a brush without supporting his hand using a sling suspended from the ceiling.

“Wyeth suffered from bronchiectasis, a frequently fatal disease, and had most of a lung removed in a major operation in which he nearly died. During the operation, doctors severed his shoulder muscles and it was questionable whether he would ever paint again. While recuperating from his operation, Wyeth struggled to paint this picture. Every blade of grass must have been painted in pain…

[… Fast Forward 70 years …]

“I’ve thought about this in recent years as I’ve read about disputes at some of today’s prominent art schools for illustrators. I’ve read complaints on social media from students who say that their instructors don’t make them feel “validated” and aren’t sufficiently “encouraging.” I’ve read web platforms that have been set aside as “safe spaces” where art students can complain about their schools or instructors without the school or instructor being permitted to respond or dispute the story. I’ve read complaints that instructors have given poor grades without due consideration to how students have been traumatized by the recent political environment.” — ILLUSTRATION ART: UNCONQUERABLE SOULS


So the first question is, “Am I going to try to freehand this?” And the answer is, “Yes.”
And the next question is, “Am I going to do a good job?” And the answer is, “No.”


For my father, Albert John Van der Leun

Men like my father cannot die. They are with us still-real in memory as they were real in flesh-loving and beloved forever.

Can I believe my friends all gone, when their voices are still a glory in my ears? No, and I will stand to say no, and no again. In blood I will say no. For they remain a living truth within my mind.

Is my mother gone, she who knew the meaning of my family, and taught us all to know it with her?

My brothers, with their courage and their strength, who made me proud to be a man among them?

Is Bronwen gone, who proved to me that the love and strength of woman is greater than the fists and muscles and shoutings of men?

Did my father die under the coal? But, God in heaven, he is with me now, in the heat of his pride in my penmanship–in his quick understanding of my troubles-in the wisdom of the advice which I never found to be wrong or worthless.

Is he dead? For if he is, then I am dead, and we are dead, and all of sense a mockery.

As a boy and as teenager and as college student, How Green Was My Valley was a favorite movie for my mother and me to watch whenever it rotated into view on our ancient 3 station television in the furniture case. It was always, as my father would say, “A real tear-jerker.” He had no patience for it just as he had no patience for his philandering father and would not watch it. It didn’t matter. My mother loved it, especially after her own father died in 1953. I always joined her. And we always cried at the ending. And then college was over and I went off to wherever I thought I was going at the time.

We tried to watch How Green Was My Valley once more than thirty years after my own father died on the table after his third open-heart operation in 1972. Tried. But it was no go. She couldn’t take the emotional blow of the ending. Neither could I. I still can’t. And it gets harder as the years evaporate and the losses accumulate. Still…


How green was my Valley, then, and the Valley of them that have gone.


Noted In Passing: Fathers of the Year


“It’s not who you know, it’s who…”


For Karl Rove Solomon

I SAW the second-best minds of my not-so-Great Generation destroyed by Bush Trump Derangement Syndrome, pasty, paunchy, tenured, and not looking too sharp naked,

bullshitting themselves through the African-American streets at cocktail hour lusting for a Cialis refill and one black friend on the down-low,

aging hair-plugged hipsters burning for their ancient political connection to the White House through the machinations of monied moonbats,

who warred on poverty and Blackwater’s Wal-Mart and bulbous-eyed and still high from some bad acid in 1968 set up no-smoking zones on tobacco farms in the unnatural darkness of Darwinistic delusions floating a few more half-baked secular notions like “Let’s all worship Zero!”,

who on the Burly Bears float of gay pride bared their man-breasts and, she/it/he, bleated their vaginas’ mawkish monologues to John Kennedy’s ghost under the Capitol Dome and french-kissed Mohammedan agents in the gore-drenched redrum rooms of Guantanamo, [continue reading…]


More than a quarter-century ago Mr. Samuel Harris wrote Anarcho-Tyranny, U.S.A. .

Prescient? I provide. You decide. We abide™”


On the morning of September 22, 1993, a law-abiding citizen named B.W. Sanders was driving his car down the street in Raleigh, North Carolina when all of a sudden he found himself flagged down by a policeman and presented with a ticket for $25. Mr. Sanders, it turned out, had not been wearing his seat belt, and under a new state law, that crime carries the penalty he received. But in this case, it was not just a traffic cop who flagged down Mr. Sanders. It was a force of some six dozen police officers as well as the governor of North Carolina himself, James B. Hunt.

The governor was searching for a photo-op with which to advertise both the new seat belt law and his own personal devotion to law-and-order. Not only the 70 or more police officers but also an innumerable supply of newspaper reporters and TV newsmen were on the scene to record the governor’s triumph over the forces of lawlessness, and the next day Mr. Sanders’ wicked ways were recorded in the public press for his family, his employers, his neighbors, and indeed posterity to gander at.

To make doubly certain that criminals like Mr. Sanders got the message loud and clear, Governor Hunt held a news conference near the state capital and harangued a crowd of some 150 police officers and state troopers, who were able to take time off from the apprehension of public enemies like Mr. Sanders to attend the governor’s words. “I took an oath to protect the people of North Carolina,” intoned the Tar Heel State’s answer to Dirty Harry, “and this is one way we must do it. . . Folks, we’re serious. We mean it. We’re going to do this.” And indeed, serious he is. As part of the war on the unbuckled seat belt crisis, the Raleigh News and Observer reported, “Law officers in all 100 counties [of the state] will intensify their efforts to find and cite motorists not using their seat belts. Agencies will compete against each other, winning cash for turning in the best performance.”

Governor Hunt’s grandstanding might be harmless enough were it not for certain other facts about certain other crimes in North Carolina that also sometimes make the news. Only a week before the apprehension and public humiliation of Mr. Sanders, the same newspaper reported on the state’s prison crisis. It seems that North Carolina has another new law in addition to the one on seat belts.

This other law, passed by the General Assembly, imposes a cap on how many inmates can be incarcerated in the state prison, and the crisis is that, under this cap, most of the inmates now eligible for parole were imprisoned for violent and assaultive crimes. Most of the less dangerous criminals have already been turned loose, and now the prison system must release public enemies even more dangerous than drivers who do not buckle their seat belts. Since last June, no less than 14 parolees (including one of the men now charged with the murder of Michael Jordan’s father) have been arrested and charged with murder, and another parolee, a veteran of the state’s death row, murdered his girlfriend and then committed suicide, thereby unfairly depriving Governor Hunt of yet another photo-op.

Last August alone, North Carolina paroled 3,700 prison inmates. One might think that if the governor of the state and the 150 police officers and state troopers who took time out of their public jobs to listen to him slap himself on the back for busting poor Mr. Sanders were really interested in upholding their oaths of office, they might turn their attention to the results of releasing hardened and violent criminals who have already been caught, sentenced, and imprisoned. [continue reading…]


“The world is too much with us…”

Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;—
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. Great God! I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn. — Wordsworth

Or we could just hear the Bee Gees sing their wreathèd song… and by that be redeemed and removed from the Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds that pollute our broken world.

It’s Friday afternoon and you’ve got nothing special going on and I’ve had a hell of a week and am weary of the present putrescence.   

Let’s take a break. Come on over. [continue reading…]


Strange Daze: From Starships to Sawmills

Two of Elon Musk’s “Starships” being moved towards the pad. Compare size to pickups.

The media is busy making the Vegetable-in-Chief sound like a statesman, which is far less exciting than it sounds. The novelty of having a dementia patient in the White House has worn off and we are left with the reality.

That reality is that there was never any reason for Biden to be president, other than he was the only option they had to replace Trump. Once he scrawled what he thinks is his name on the executive orders they put in front of him, there was nothing left on the agenda. The long temper tantrum no longer has a reason, so the stasis of late empire decline is back, which means nothing happens.

The only potential for something interesting to happen is if they snuff out the vegetable and install Harris. She is revealing herself to be dumber and shallower than anyone imagined. She is fumbling the softest of questions from the most obsequious of reporters. It seems impossible, but she may have less cognitive function than her boss and he is close to brain dead.

We see publishers where the staff successfully demand the banning of authors they don’t like. We see software companies where employees, instead of doing their jobs, spend hours talking politics and trying to politicize their companies. We see news organizations taken over by “woke” ideology. We see teenagers kicked out of school for tweets made years earlier. And now, in a place that is supposed to be all about the rule of law, we see anonymous mob rule. With very few exceptions, today’s Yale Law School contains either people who are deliberately behaving badly or people who are too afraid to stand up to those who are. We hear a lot about justice, but anonymous accusations and power politics aren’t justice, and places that are ruled in such a fashion tend to do badly.

[continue reading…]




We are building a religion,
We are building it bigger
We are widening the corridors and adding more lanes
We are building a religion.
A limited-edition
We are now accepting callers for these pendant keychains

To resist it is useless,
It is useless to resist it
His cigarette is burning but it never seems to ash
He is grooming his poodle
He is living comfort eagle
You can meet at his location but you’d better come with cash

Now his hat is on backwards. He can show you his tattoos
He is in the music business he is calling you “DUDE!”

Now today is tomorrow and tomorrow’s today
And yesterday is weaving in and out
And the fluffy white lines that the airplane leaves behind
Are drifting right in front of the waning of the moon

He is handling the money. He’s serving the food
He knows about your party. He is calling you “DUDE!” [continue reading…]


Meanwhile, in the nation’s capital it’s June!

June is bustin’ out all over
The feelin’ is gettin’ so intense,
That the young Virginia creepers
Hev been huggin’ the bejeepers
Outa all the mornin’ glories on the fence!
Because it’s June…
June, June, June
Just because it’s June, June, June!


Found on Quick Takes – Liberty’s Torch

More from Quick Takes – Liberty’s Torch

2. Whiteness as a disease / parasitical entity.

So I was listening to The Kuhner Report while driving one kid back from a doctor’s appointment and my jaw hit, well, my lap because I was driving. He discussed the journal article (e.g., discussed here and here) that states that “whiteness” is parasitical, a disease, etc. Now, replace that with “Christian” or “Jewish”… Let alone that Yale psychopath talking about using a revolver to blow white peoples’ brains out, and more.

And it’s everywhere, I can’t even begin to scratch the surface of the seething loathing towards any white person from our so-called elites, and non-whites in this country – let alone the self-imposed guilt too many “woke” persons are imposing on themselves.

 Elsewhere: Black Man Goes On Shooting Spree Targeting White Men, Police Stop Answering Calls After BLM Riots


Days of the Locust

“Black people who were never slaves are fighting white people who were never Nazis over a confederate statue erected by Democrats because Democrats can’t stand their own history anymore.. yet somehow it’s Trump’s fault.” — Jeff Laffite Jones 

“We must disenthrall ourselves.” – Lincoln

Whenever humans seek to perfect the imperfect world either progress or regress may be the result, but regardless of result, evil ensues.

Whenever a class of people, self-anointed, seek to impose Utopia on the world, evil ensues.

Whenever a group of people seek to arrogate the power of the people to themselves, evil ensues.

It is not that power corrupts but that some people are compelled to corrupt democratically distributed power through statist centralization and media manipulation. If the age of kings was the age of rule by one monarch, the current age drifts towards the rule of many much much smaller kings acting in unison.

This is the age of the Mini-Monarchists; of rule by the faction of “Little Hitlers.” Their accoutrements are not uniforms and stark symbols, but cap & gown, press passes, Twitter flutters, and union cards.

Their collective policy and plan for the nation is plague.

All faction, no matter its origin or ideals, is in the end Fascist. The Founders

knew Faction and feared it. Much of the Federalist Papers is taken up with the problem of suppressing Faction and the Constitution is the carefully wrought attempt at a solution to it. Of course, the Founders also knew that Faction as Fascism is never finished except by fire and fire alone. This is why, in the Founders founding document, the Declaration of Independence, they included this provision, [continue reading…]


“We’ve now entered the stage of America reopening where apparently at an Ace Hardware in Seattle that means using a bat to enforce the mask rules. Video of Sunday’s mask fight at the Tweedy & Popp Ace Hardware in Lake City, Seattle is making the rounds and shows a store employee protecting the store from Bobby Dixon who tried to enter without a mask, according to TV station KOMO.” — Seattle Ace Hardware Employee Pulls Out Baseball Bat For Mask Fight – OutKick