You don’t like the decisions yesterday and today?

You’re really not going to like the next part.

I mean, it’s your fault, but you’re not going to like it.
See, we were cool with the status quo.

Yeah, we wanted abortion to go back to the states. Yeah, we wanted gun rights expanded. Yeah, we wanted our kids safe from LGBTQ indoctrination.

But it wasn’t enough to fight about.
We thought you were like us, that we could argue and make small gains and lose some ground but everything staying fairly level and levelheaded.

But boy, were we wrong.

Because while we were copacetic and just going along to get along, you were pushing.
You pushed abortion. From “legal, safe, and rare in these specific instances”, you pushed now to the point of post birth abortion on demand for any reason.
You pushed gun control. From “background checks and gun free zones” to now “red flag laws” which deny due process.
You pushed “the rights of gay marriage” to now the “right of LGBTQ teachers telling kindergarteners about their sex life.”
And during all of this, you pushed disagreeing politically to calling us Nazis and justifying violence against us, justifying harming our families and our jobs.
So now, we push back.

We pushed back with Trump.
We pushed back with state legislators.
We pushed back with school boards.

And we haven’t even begun to push back, kiddo.
We’re going to push abortion back to the “rare” side in many states.

We may give you a timeframe like 12 to 15 weeks, about what your beloved “other industrialized nations” give.

We may not.
We’re going to push back on gun control.

We’re not going to accept your offer of “you can keep some guns until we decide to get rid of them.”

We’re going to elect legislators to make ownership easier. We’re claiming our rights back.
We’re going to push back on the LGBTQ agenda.

We’re going to make your lives miserable when you try to get our kids to question their gender.

We’re going to remove the power you think you have and put it in the hands of the parents.
You had a chance to call a truce.
You had a chance to be in control and be happy.
You had a chance to just leave us alone.

You didn’t.
You pushed and prodded and provoked.

And you’re threatening to commit violence now?

Good luck with that.
There’s a saying about the danger of making people who want to be left alone get involved.

You’ve made us get involved.

So all of it, from here on out, is squarely on you.

Enjoy the whirlwind you have so deservedly reaped.

This sums up my evolution better than I could have. Bet it’s highly highly a common sentiment.

pic.twitter.com/nOWO4OM1ry

— Cernovich (@Cernovich) June 26, 2022

But darlin’, those days are gone
Oh yeah
Stop dreaming
And live on in the future
But darlin’, a-don’t look back
Whoa, no-no
Don’t look back
— John Lee Hooker

Ah, but we do, don’t we? We always look back. Seeing the shapes, getting the measure, going the distance, and finding that the safe harbors of your life require a spiritual sextant for sighting the fixed stars. It’s a ghost ship’s voyage with what lies ahead a blank white screen while what is behind fades into the smoke of the world well lost. On this voyage, there are shallows, shoals, and the fatal allure of Sirens and the lee shore. There are the times in irons, then the times in storms, then stretches of clear open ocean on a broad reach, but still with the sense of hidden reefs and an always unknowable destination. It helps to track others’ voyages, to follow similar arcs, to watch if they pass, or seem to pass, the same checkpoints. Some are siblings. Others are friends and lovers. Still others are artists that, at some point, strike us as sharing if not a life then at least a similar trajectory.

Everybody navigates their life with a different set of charts, but some overlap. Among these are the singer-songwriter/poets of our era. These are our troubadours, the most influential of which in our time, is Bob Dylan. Indeed, I’ve often thought that it must gall the endless pile of disposable poets stashed in the academy or wheezing and grunting in “Slams,” that, for all their pallid effort, the greatest American poet of this era is Dylan. But Dylan, for all his protean output and achievement, misses the music as much as he hooks the mind.

For my money, the singer-songwriter-poet among my contemporaries, that both hooks the ear and brings the music is Van Morrison. [continue reading…]

He takes you up and settles you down. He takes it all away into the dark, into the silence, and then he sings it back into the light.

Sound up and full screen in the evening with your beverage of choice. It will reboot your soul.

Notes on the session on BBC Four: “In the exclusive session, Van showcases tracks from his new album, Keep It Simple, and older favourites such as Magic Time and Vanlose Stairway. He is backed by a full band and joined by special guests: guitarist Mick Green and organ maestro Georgie Fame.”

Send me your picture
Send me your pillow
Send it through Krishna
On the Vanlose stairway

Send me your bible
Send me your Gita
I want to reach you
On the Vanlose stairway [continue reading…]

pic.twitter.com/LOKCrxshze

— Doochebag (@MalcolmRenoldz) June 25, 2022

Words to Live By

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he’s a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he’s to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry;
For having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry.

— To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time
Robert Herrick – 1591-1674

Armed and uparmored Antifa soldier. Don’t laugh. If he gets behind you in a crowd that will cover him with umbrellas, he’ll shoot you in the head.

Really nurse? What ways might those magic 8 be? [continue reading…]

The prepared instructions for Biden — titled “Offshore Wind Drop-By Sequence of Events” — tell Biden to “enter the Roosevelt Room and say hello to participants.”
Then, the paper says, “YOU take YOUR seat.”
The typed-up note says that after reporters arrive, “YOU give brief comments (2 minutes).”
When reporters depart, “YOU ask Liz Shuler, President, AFL-CIO, a question” and then “YOU thank participants” and “YOU depart.”

The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.

“And all flesh shall see it together. For the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.”

[continue reading…]

Four and a half months

“We went ahead with the abortion of our first child and, after a short recuperation, life went on as before. At least it felt as if went on as before.”

Did you ever have to make up your mind?
Pick up on one and leave the other behind.
It’s not often easy and not often kind.
Did you ever have to make up your mind?
— The Loving Spoonful

No Answers Here. Just Observations and Anecdotes

Like most serious people in America today, I’ve had to struggle with my views on abortion. You are required, in this deadlocked and soul-locked society to have a view on this issue. “I don’t know” just wont cut it. You’ve got to know. It says so right here in America: The Instructions.

But what do I know about Abortion? Here’s what I thought I knew then and what I think I know now. Why today? Because I read the news today (Oh boy). And the news is only too happy to tell me that January 22, 2019, was the 46th Anniversary of the Roe v. Wade decision that released the crushing Abortion juggernaut to roll over the soul of America.

Abortion is, as we all know, one of the 25 or 30 third rails of American politics. So what? A President must prove to the American people that, from time to time, he can reach out and touch a few of these rails with both hands. I wouldn’t want a man as President who couldn’t do it. And yet….

Political pronouncements on abortion always have the whiff of Prufrockian diffidence about them:

There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

The Vexation and the Fear. The Abstract Issue and the Real Child

Abortion is one of our most vexing issues.  Like a satanic Energizer Bunny,  it just keeps going… and going… and going. There’s no good in it and no good end to it.

It is currently resolved one way, in favor of choice, but the palpable, visceral fear of those who support choice no matter what has been that one Supreme Court appointment could overturn Roe v. Wade. The fear from the other side is now that one Supreme Court appointment the other way could set Abortion in stone. I’m not so sure about that, not sure at all, but the energy source here is fear and fear is a big motivator, especially if you are on the Left in America these days. Indeed, fear and hate seem to be driving most of the concepts coming out of the Left lately which is why I distrust them so deeply.

On abortion, my view has shifted over time. It shifted most palpably after the birth of my daughter. Something about birth makes you realize the stakes involved in the abortion issue in a way that was merely abstract before.

It seems to me that if the issue remains, or is contained, as an abstract notion (What would you do if…) then “choice” — given the agnostic temper of the times — remains paramount. In the abstract. we’d all like to be given a choice and not a mandate — from the state, from God, from our society, or from ourselves. We’d all like to go through life doing what we want, when we want, with no consequences. You know – “No judgments, man,” “Hey, no blame, Dude,” “No problem. It’s all good.” Alas, abortion is not an abstract procedure or some harmless gedankenexperiment, although many of the more virulent Pro-Choice people would like it to be thought of in that way.

My own experience has been that when you are confronted with the abortion issue after having nurtured a child, abortion is no longer an abstraction — i.e. “Resolved, all women should be able to control their bodies without interference” — but becomes more concrete — i.e. “Resolved, all women should be able to control their bodies without interference including ending a life within them at will.”

It seems to me that (absent the usual banal disclaimers involving crime, rape, incest, danger to the mother, etc.) the abortion issue splits between those who base their position on the abstract notion of choice, and those with more concrete experience — parents. This is not to say that those with children who remain pro-choice are caught in an abstraction, quite the opposite. I place them in the latter camp. It is to say that, no matter where they stand on the issue, the opinion of people with children has more standing, to me at least, than those without children. Parents have, to use an expression not without irony, “Real skin in the game.” [continue reading…]

True Colors on the Hollywood Sign

The Original “Drag Queen Specs”

Let’s be accurate with the language: these are male-to-female transvestites performing a striptease in front of children.pic.twitter.com/w8FFOsJFWA

— Christopher F. Rufo ⚔️ (@realchrisrufo) June 20, 2022

Descend lower, descend only
Into the world of perpetual solitude,
World not world, but that which is not world,
Internal darkness, deprivation
And destitution of all property,
Desiccation of the world of sense,
Evacuation of the world of fancy,
Inoperancy of the world of spirit;
— Four Quartets – 1 Burnt Norton

Top Gun: Maverick    For its detractors, to see an unashamed, patriotic, red-blooded, White, American man bravely rallying others to meet a threat to his country and prevail against impossible odds in The Current Year must be like presenting a crucifix to a vampire. Even worse (for them), is that the characters and the people who play them all seem so unselfconscious and bring with them an air of vitality and positivity. These are dynamic, capable, healthy, good-looking people working together as a team, taking risks, having fun, raising hell, and getting hard stuff done. 

This is the America the world fell in love with. An America that could seduce, reach within, and show a vision of some aspect of itself in a song or an image, a book, or a movie, and inspire generations. The Top Gun movies are a love letter to that country. If you’d like to take a break from all the craziness and treat yourself to an old-fashioned, lighthearted adventure movie made by people who don’t hate you and love America (what it was, is, and could be), then this movie is for you. For its kind might be truly headed for extinction.

America’s a nation that can be defined by a single word, but Joe Biden is not going to get around to telling us what it is any time soon. pic.twitter.com/MLqfClyDoe

— JamesHeartfield (@JamesHeartfield) April 8, 2022

Recommending treason : Essays in Idleness   Pride commands the acts of cruelty, leading to torture and murder, that are rhetorically suggested by our national leaders. By the rules of democracy, every voter buys in. The person who will not participate in the mental illness at the surface of public life, is quickly labelled as a “traitor” or “apostate.” For pride is ever looking for traitors. [continue reading…]

First, you get the self-assured, fact driven clickbait headline of Northwich woman jailed for cocaine-fuelled sex with a dog via the confused writers of the  Northwich Guardian

Then comes the fact-soaked reportage of the fearless Northwich Guardian:

Claire Goodier has been sentenced to serve 20 months in prison

At the time of her arrest on June 17 this year, police also found another pen drive in her handbag containing the same images and 3.5 grammes of cocaine.

When she committed the sex act between 15 and 16 December 2018, Goodier had also been in breach of a suspended sentence order, which had been imposed in May of that year for failing to adhere to the terms of a sexual harm prevention order. Goodier had also failed to comply with the terms of the sexual harm prevention order in November of last year, when she was 13 days late contacting the police after being in isolation due to Covid guidelines.

Judge Everett told Goodier he did not agree with the probation service assessing her as being a low risk of re-offending as he sent her to prison. He told her: “You are a long, long way from changing your life. You deceitfully took part in a cocaine-fuelled incident with other persons. Since the terrible offence took place you kept the images unashamedly for your own sexual gratification.

“A message must go out that if you commit such disgusting behaviour then you must go to prison.”

Goodier sobbed in the dock as she was told she will serve 20 months behind bars, which included the activation of the four-month sentence she had in suspension of when committing the act.

After which you are introduced to a mug shot of the offender: [Insert Mental Health Warning Here] [continue reading…]

China: Dude fights off an excavator sent to demolish his building with fireworks.

Sound ON pic.twitter.com/mHV3PlV28c

— Wall Street Silver (@WallStreetSilv) June 23, 2022

You think it’s a funny sendup of the Woke Mind Virus infecting all, and it is.

And then the US Navy excretes something like this . . .

In this steaming road apple, the Navy is training its members to create a “safe space” by using proper gender pronouns in a new instructional video modeled after a children’s show. And yes it is that much of a sloshing trough of woke vomit. You are allowed to quit watching it at any time. You know the blather well enough by now.

But painful as it may be to watch that exercise in sewage spelunking, there is hope now as Chinese, Russian, and the Navy have joined forces to create the ultimate video; one that lays out what the core martial values of each culture are and all but publishes the expiration date of this Woke Nation. Hurry sundown:

Sleep tight tonight, your National Woke Guard is awake.
( Smoking crack, using fentanyl suppositories, and having strange sex down at the docks where the sailors all coming in.)

I was born my papa’s son
A wanderin’ eye and a smokin’ gun
Now some of you would live through me
Then lock me up and throw away the key
Or just find a place to hide away
Hope that I’ll just go away, hah

I feel alright
I feel alright tonight
I feel alright
I feel alright tonight

And I’ll bring you precious contraband
And ancient tales from distant lands
Of conquerors and concubines and
Conjurers from darker times
Betrayal and conspiracy
Sacrilege and heresy

And I feel alright
I feel alright tonight
I feel alright
I feel alright tonight

I got everything you won’t need
Your darkest fear
Your fondest dream
I ask you questions
Tell you lies
Criticize and sympathize

Yeah, be careful what you wish for friend
Because I’ve been to hell
And now I’m back again
I feel alright

Yeah, I feel alright tonight
Yeah I feel alright
I feel alright tonight
I feel alright
Feel alright

1.
The last sound heard before the silence
Wrapped around my flesh in wisps,
Was the shriek of frozen ambulances
Carved in sharp, revolving red.
Then two holes in my skull sealed shut,
And on my tongue, I heard the tang of brass.

At first, a ringing whine rose high and faded far,
Then bells began, each dun and laced with smoke,
And merged with walls of wind on water raised,
And  bloomed high in white, white only, drifts
Of falling snow that softly falling
Blurred beneath all shapes of sound and speech.

Music’s memory remained, and moving lips
Became the only signs of sound that I could see
And all my mind stormed not with silence,
But with dark brushed deep on deeper dark
Within which all stars died, and dying threw
A single trace of song beyond all song.

It moaned and chittered, groaned, and sighed.
It grinned at me, inscrutable and blank
As shells evicted by the sea are spurned
By waves and parch above the sand,
Polished first by dust, then honed by rain,
Into white basilicas of bone.

2.
Made new, I loved large gestures.
Marked furrowed face and curl of lip.
Memorized the signing hands that stripped
My half-guessed comprehension bare,
And learned, at last, to wait upon a glance,
On small words scratched upon the slate.

As days to years enlarged their rule,
All records writ within my skull were smudged,
All songs and music drifted off to send
Pale emblems of their realms as tribute
To that stone that once had formed a throne,
Crowned now with unsensed pleasures shrugged.

All treasure spent, all gems decayed,
All metals melded into dust, all trace of walls
Where once the filigreed firebird sang,
And drums of heroes’ skins were stunned,
Were now but shadows strewn as faint
As lines of light on planets seen from space.

And then, with time, all that … erased,
And sands and seas swarmed over all,
And ruled at last alone a globe of frost,
Of ice, of snow, of sheaves of glass,
Until along that farthest strip of polished shore
One distant crystal glinted, gleamed, and chimed.

“A short video of Karolina Protsenko, child violin prodigy. She and her parents were born in Ukraine and moved to L.A. area (Simi Valley?) a few years ago. She is about 13 now. I think her parents are standing at top left of video with a stroller (baby brother kicking his foot with the beat?)” — AD Reader C.T.