@jimmeskimen How many celebrities can you name? #celebrityimpressions #impressions #celebrityvoice #celebritylookalike #deepfake ♬ original sound – Jim Meskimen
TRANSLATION: “The earth is degenerating today. Bribery and corruption abound. Children no longer obey their parents, every man wants to write a book, and it is evident that the end of the world is fast approaching.”
“Chestfeeding”??
And let’s not even begin to note the placement of the cursive “W“ slashing through the black crotch circle. Produced and proofread by Progressive perverts who prove the old adage, “The one thing you can’t hide is when you’re crippled inside.”
Was this the mouth that lunched a thousand tips / And burnt the topless tower of Clintium?
LOL! Monica Lewinsky’s Twitter Poll Doesn’t Go Down the Way She Hoped – Armed with her own preferred pronouns and a grudge to bear, the former White House intern, hoping to make a point that Musk is being reckless with how he’s running his new company, asked the people of Twitter who should be making important decisions for Twitter: its employees or public polls.
And public polls won. In fact, it wasn’t even close.
really important decisions for this platform should be made by…
— Monica Lewinsky (she/her) (@MonicaLewinsky) November 25, 2022
Scipio Africanus
“AND STAY OUT!” An uncontacted tribe in the Amazon
https://twitter.com/buitengebieden/status/1589010190741164033
Nolte: Disney’s Big Gay, Green ‘Strange World’ Crashes at Box Office This is all headed in one direction: normalizing sex between adults and children. That sounds crazy, but look at what Disney’s doing today that sounded crazy five years ago. The endgame is making you feel like a bigot for not allowing a hairy drag queen to take your six-year-old son to bed.What else could the endgame be?And that’s probably not the endgame because there is never an endgame with the left. Just a slippery slope of unimagined depravities.
“Decolonizing” science – A once proud journal that was widely held to be the most prestigious in the world, Nature’s editors have decided that Western science is vastly overrated and should be “decolonized.”
Envision this.
WWII June 6, 1944
The Normandy Landings.
About to storm Utah Beach.And THIS is what's schniveling next to you in the landing craft…………..
This generation needs to get a grip..
Life isn't fair. Bust your ass or get left in the surf facedown. pic.twitter.com/dc3AnIYmXq
— The Bloodstone™ 🎸 (@BS2KZ) October 31, 2022
[In Areopagus Volume XXV – Cultural Tutor writes:] Why this painting?
How remarkable that a few scattered lines can conjure up the image of a frozen lake, and even colorless ones can draw us to picture the heavy frosts of deepest winter. The human imagination is terrifyingly powerful; Cracked Ice is evidence of that. For despite its simplicity I find this painting utterly engrossing. Ōkyo’s reduction of a natural scene to its most basic elements, to its fundamental essence, is typical of Chinese and Japanese landscape art. In this way, it’s more like poetry than art, more like a harmonic meditation than a representation of reality.
I also like Cracked Ice because it shows how supposedly modern trends are often far older than we think. Abstract art may seem like a recent invention, but the quasi-abstract work of Ōkyo and many other painters of his era and region – who used a few simple brushstrokes to evoke the natural world – would suggest otherwise.
Who was Maruyama Ōkyo and what style is Cracked Ice?
Maruyama Ōkyo (1733-1795) was both an influential and controversial artist. He spent the bulk of his life in Kyoto, and there became involved in the creation of a new Japanese school of art. See, Chinese-influenced Japanese art had long operated on different lines to Western painting. Since the Renaissance European painters had made the conquest of reality their goal: the representation of the world as it really looked, with three-dimensional perspective and realism, even idealized, its main features. In Eastern Asia, however, artists were less interested in representing reality as it looked and more in what it meant.
But contact with European nations had brought representational art to the attention of Japanese painters. Whereas some dismissed its realism as undignified, Ōkyo saw the potential for a new style. From him came the Maruyama–Shijō School, a style that blended European realism with traditional Japanese essentialism. The results, as in Cracked Ice and its vanishing-point perspective, are rather splendid. Many of Ōkyo’s other paintings are less abstract, leaning more towards the European than the Japanese. I thoroughly recommend exploring them.
What was it for?
As I’ve written before, galleries (or disembodied pictures online) can make us forget that art almost always has a specific context and purpose. Cracked Ice is actually a decorative folding screen, or byōbu, used in Japanese households to separate interiors. These decorated screens became an art form all of their own; it gave people a chance to surround themselves with the evocation of a different place – a forest, a mountain landscape, or a frozen lake. Specifically, Cracked Ice was a furoshiki byōbu, to be placed in front of the fire during tea ceremonies. It is quite beautiful on its own, but surely even more beautiful when lit from behind by a fire, as an atmospheric backdrop to the tea ceremony.
https://twitter.com/buitengebieden/status/1595556195011641349
https://twitter.com/buitengebieden/status/1594759999074762752
Giving Thanks, 2018
And then the rains came to Paradise and in the valley below the ridge, my mother and I went to Thanksgiving at my brother’s home.
It was a soaking rain; one that washed the heavy and grimed coats of the fire crews closing the line on the Camp Fire. It was a soft pelting rain that soaked the gray flecks of ash off the leaves that remained in the trees and then washed the leaves out of the trees. It was a cold rain and it made for a miserable Thanksgiving. We all loved it. You stood outside in this drenching rain and raised your face towards heaven and felt it fall on you. It was a rain that smelled of smoke.
My mother and I left early to drive to my brother’s home in Grass Valley. At 90 minutes it is at the outward edge of my mother’s travel radius, but this one is worth it and we are in no position, jammed into her apartment, to attempt to have it in Chico.
Our route goes down Highway 99 and then east towards where the Camp Fire grinds forests in its bright fangs, but picks up Highway 70 outside of Oroville. Then it is down that dangerous two-lane freeway to “The Shortcut” and then the climb up to Grass Valley; another town built in the mountains inside a pine forest.
Thanksgiving marks the second time my mother has been out into the smoke from Paradise. The first was the day or so before when she insisted on going shopping for “something red, some red top to go with my red boots.” She’s had her almost magical pair of red boots for decades and they’ve become a kind of signal that wherever she wears them is an official feast or festival. And so we went downtown with masks on to shop. For my mother at 104, a little smoke is not going to keep her from making a fashion statement… or Thanksgiving with her family.
South of Chico about nine miles we entered the Burned Zone. This was where the fire threatened Highway 99 on the first night and even managed to jump it but was then turned back. As we flow along at highway speeds the land on the west side has dry brindle grass covering the earth, on the east side the burned char from the fire and the backfires stretch over the long flatlands where cattle would graze, and then over the low hills and far away. Patches of brindle crop up here and there but it is mostly a scene of a black dank earth. It goes on over the low hills and higher ridges and then out of sight. It seems limitless. It smells of the pit. [continue reading…]
We gather together
to ask the Lord’s blessing;
he chastens and hastens
his will to make known.
The wicked oppressing
now cease from distressing.
Sing praises to his name,
he forgets not his own.
Beside us to guide us,
our God with us joining,
ordaining, maintaining
his kingdom divine;
so from the beginning
the fight we were winning;
thou, Lord, wast at our side,
all glory be thine!
We all do extol thee,
thou leader triumphant,
and pray that thou still
our defender wilt be.
Let thy congregation
escape tribulation;
thy name be ever praised!
O Lord, make us free!
Former content moderator employee at Twitter speaks out. Do you believe this person enforced twitter ToS fairly and equally for all persons?
— John Curtis (@Johnmcurtis) November 23, 2022
Discredited high school history teacher, James O’Flannery, describes the origins of AMERICA’S most beloved holiday, mostly without profanity and while sober (we think). Gather ’round to hear the story of THE FIRST THANKSGIVING, featuring Squanto, William Bradford, Thomas Dermer, Samoset, Massasoit, the Puritans, Henry VIII, Anne Boleyn, and much, much, more!
MORE HISTORY ON THE HALF-SHELL FROM THE DEMENTED MINDS AT FLAPPR.
[A PERSONAL NOTE: My middle name happens to be Wheelock, as in “Gerard Wheelock Van der Leun.” This is a family tradition from my mother’s side of the family which is descended from Ralph Wheelock, our own original Puritan, and a member of the Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1636, 6 years after the settlement of Boston, and at the peak of the “Great Migration”. (Yes, we’ve been in America for that long. And yes, my mother’s mother was a member of the Daughters of the American Revolution.) Ralph Wheelock most likely used one of these name-sake carbines.]
Story by: Kristin Alberts
What’s even more American than turkey, cranberries and pumpkin pie these days? An Italian gun, that’s what. The only known surviving firearm that crossed the wild Atlantic aboard the good ship Mayflower, settled with the pilgrims at Plymouth Colony and ultimately helped the first colonists not only survive, but prosper. Meet the Mayflower Gun.
The Gun
Affectionately dubbed the Mayflower Gun and thought of as an American icon, the gun is actually an Italian-made wheel-lock carbine. This single-shot musket was originally chambered in .50 caliber rifle, though ages of heavy use have worn away the majority of the rifling. Given the combination of natural wear, repairs and modifications, if the gun were to be loaded and fired today, it would require a .66 caliber.
According to curators at the NRA’s National Firearms Museum—where the gun has found a most comfortable home—markings recorded on both the barrel and lockplate demonstrate a connection with the Beretta family of armorers.
One of the features making this musket instantly recognizable is its namesake. The surviving detail of the actual wheel-lock device—the rotating mechanism, which provides spark and ignition, not unlike that of our modern day cigarette lighters—is a thing of fine craftsmanship and beauty. The wheel-lock’s engineering, execution and efficacy far exceed those of its predecessor, the matchlock.
The man: John Alden
Without the adventuresome spirit of one young man with an eye for quality arms, the Mayflower Gun would not be a part of our American history today. Enter, John Alden. Alden was around 20 to 21 years of age at the ship’s departure. However, his original intent was never really to set sail. John Alden was simply hired as a ships cooper—a barrel maker by trade—at the yard where ships docked. But being a young man with much hope and courage, he decided to board the Mayflower for its daunting passage. Sometime near debarkation, it is speculated that Alden purchased the firearm used, perhaps from a traveler or mercenary as was common in those days. Of the guns widely available at that time, this was one of the finest and most expensive, so certainly young Alden was wise beyond his years. [continue reading…]
I’m just a poor wayfaring stranger
Traveling through this world below
https://twitter.com/ElijahSchaffer/status/1593520669358452737
Spiteful mutants are the men in dresses demanding everyone pretend they are some third sex rather than a lunatic. These are the feminists who make war on the normal sexual relations of society. The people policing speech online and inflicting Diversity, Equity & Inclusion programs are spiteful mutants. These are the human defects slowly making life impossible in Western countries.
FTX CEO Sam Bankman-Fried (SBF) is the quintessential soy bugman. Rule of thumb – never trust a vegan who wears cargo shorts with white socks. His parents were Stanford professors and his mother is a Democrat NGO bundler. SBF funneled $50 million to Democrats in this midterm cycle, second only to the perennial heavyweight George Soros. “Effective altruism” + “democracy” = stealing from people to give to Democrats. He also fraudulently transferred FTX customer money into his own hedge fund Alameda, run by soy bugwoman ex-girlfriend Caroline Ellison. . . . .
At the peak of the bubble in Summer 2021, Sequoia plowed $214 million into FTX. As is custom with smug VCs, they announced their investment with a 13,000 word epic of self-congratulatory masturbatory propaganda fellating the brilliance of SBF. They have deleted the piece from their website to hide their embarrassment, but the internet never forgets and archived it in full here. The worst moment came when the partners were simping over SBF’s pitch, while he was simultaneously playing a video game. — From Never Yet Melted » Leftie Rich Kids From the Best Schools, They Obviously Could Not Fail
The Core Battle Within the Republican Party – The Last Refuge | The people in control of Republican Club do not care who is in the White House, that is a secondary objective. What they care about right now is controlling the Republican corporation and stopping the hostile takeover.
More, much more at the New American Digest where we can expose our tender souls to “Spiteful Mutants | Soy Bugman @ FTX | Slapping Macron Silly | Islamic Maniacs | Obama’s Fake Noose | Jerry Nadler’s Pants | The Coming Tribulation | College Shitholes | Knives to Gunfights = Mag Dump | New Gnostics | Lets go back in time.”
Ladies and Gentlemen give it up for Matt Baker (@liqidearth) / Twitter “Matt Baker at your service I am a freedom fighter and owner of slave2liberty clothing company fighting medical mandates and technocratic tyranny.”
I am ashamed to say I would not give this fellow a second thought if I passed him in the street. Having watched this speech, however, I am now in awe of his eloquence and patriotism.
Maricopa County is the new Zimbabwe. https://t.co/BETZinTaZB
— James Woods (@RealJamesWoods) November 19, 2022
2: Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares. Hebrews 13
The caption at NASA’s “Astronomy Picture of the Day” page reads: “Atlantis to Orbit.”
The filename of the picture reads Nightlaunch.
And I am moved by the poetry of this most modern of images, not by the triumph of Reason which it seems to enshrine, but by that which is beyond Reason yet within this Nightlaunch all the same.
In thinking about this brief essay I could not help but think of a longer one by Doctor Bob at The Doctor Is In about a “civilized” European nation that cannot stop itself from taking the next step down into the pit; its people driven, as “reasonable” people always are, by the inexorable demands of “what is reasonable.”
In the work of Goya, we see how that great soul, having walked the carnage-cloaked landscapes of his era, came to understand the deepest cry of the Enlightenment: El sueño de la razon produce monstruos. [“The sleep of reason breeds monsters.”]
Ah well, the bones of the Enlightenment lie buried in a shallow grave somewhere along the Western Front. It had some nice ideals but left us living rapt in the spell of Reason.
And now we are a “reasonable” society. Now we are a “scientific people” swaddled in a million theories of management — convinced that all of creation can be, somehow, managed through the limitless employment of Reason. Many of us, as we have seen in the past month, worship “intelligence uber Alles,” that strange and deadly viral god of the mad mind that kills the soul long before it kills the nations that embrace it. We see the apotheosis of this worship leap up from the dazed lands of Europe. We see it arc across our own skies. We feel the sting of its acid rain on our upturned, stunned faces. [continue reading…]
Oooooo, spicy time gets closer. Too bad they let folks with (maybe) handguns walk right up on them after sidewalking their little friend. Somewhere somebody is putting the folks at Patchouli Joe’s on a list for composting. It would be sad if things got to that point. Wouldn’t it?
HT: Hyland who says, “Just don’t mess with these guys…. Antifa is armed to the teeth but comedian Alex Stein… he’s a one-man army of humiliation… he’s holding down the front”
One of the better exposés of the weakness and feeblemindedness of modern soyperverts.
Gerard Van der Leun
Your Say