Blacker Than Your Black Friday

     Ahhh! The post-prandial doldrums are behind us, a good night’s sleep ensued, and your humble Curmudgeon is back to regale you with pointless philosophizing, annoying anecdotes, and lots of stuff you already know. Hope you’ve had enough coffee, because the latest edition of Liberty’s Torch has just been delivered fresh and piping-hot to your browser. Put down the leftover stuffing, sit back, and enjoy a completely unacceptable, certified 100% free-of-political-correctness tirade.

     Eating too much always makes me bilious.

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1. Crazy Canucks.

     Strange as it may sound, quite a lot of our northern neighbors actually like and approve of their single-payer socialized medicine system. Despite Canada’s shrinking number of physicians, its wholly inadequate supply of advanced diagnostic equipment, and its ever-lengthening waiting lines for even the most time-critical procedures, there are no few Canadians who’ll defend their national die-quicker scheme to...well, to the death.

     I crossed swords with one yesterday who actually expected to get away with the unsubstantiated (because unsubstantiable) claim that single-payer was the proven best system. He said it “saves a lot of money.” Well, gee, when the Omnipotent, Omniscient, and Omnibenevolent State can simply deny you care, or make you wait for it for so long that by the time your “turn” comes you’ve died or acquired Alzheimer’s and can no longer remember why you need it, it’s easy to save money. That’s socialism’s chief trick, you see: its “efficiencies,” so called, are achieved by delay and rationing.

     Yet plenty of Canadians will scream and leap at any American who dares to mention that their fellow subjects are streaming southward to get access to medical care. Well, we always knew that there had to be a head of steam building up behind all that self-imposed politeness. Moreover, their envy of their more successful continental neighbors has never been quite adequately disguised. Quite a lot of them would defend Satan himself if the Prince of Darkness were to castigate the United States. He might even be urged to contend for their premiership...as a Liberal, of course.

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2. Resentment.

     Daniel Greenfield fingers a component of the Leftist psyche:

     It’s Thanksgiving 2017. And gratitude has become a partisan issue.

     Why is it so hard for the left to be thankful? The answer is as easy as pumpkin pie. The left is a movement built on resentment. And resentment and gratitude are opposing emotions.

     That is why the left really hates Thanksgiving.

     The revisionist autopsies of American history and the guides to sensitively calling your uncle a racist are about substituting resentment for thankfulness. Whether it’s a family getting together once a year, the Pilgrims and the Indian tribesmen breaking bread or the White House press corps being asked to talk about the good things in their lives, a moment of thankfulness has to be ruined with resentment.

     Resentment is the force that gives the left meaning.

     Close, but no cookie. The leftward political orientation arises from a desire to be significant. The typical Leftist has nothing of actual substance to offer anyone. That’s why they rallied behind the worst presidential candidate in history: a massively dislikable woman of absolutely no competence, with no accomplishments to her name but plenty of scandals, whose entire public profile was founded on the electoral success of her philandering husband. In her personal vacuity, her lust for power and wealth, and her demonstrated sense of entitlement, she represented them perfectly.

     Their resentment of the rest of us – you know, we who actually make and do things that render value to others – is a resultant, a consequence of their self-loathing. That’s why they must always oppose anything that’s entirely private, especially if it confers value or enjoyment upon the involved parties. (Note that their preferred forms of sex are all humiliating and degrading if not actually painful and damaging. Think about it!)

     I simply must re-employ one of my favorite quotations:

     A man is likely to mind his own business when it is worth minding. When it is not, he takes his mind off his own meaningless affairs by minding other people's business...The vanity of the selfless, even those who practice the utmost humility, is boundless. – Eric Hoffer

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3. Big Mama Rules!

     Sarah Sanders has painted a big, shit-eating grin on my face by carving the hearts out of the media:

     The national media’s relationship with White House press secretary Sarah Sanders has taken on a new tension over the last month, as journalists and news commentators have grown more and more personal in their hostility toward the Trump administration’s top spokeswoman.

     Several high-profile columnists and writers have torn into Sanders over the last few weeks to mock her appearance, the way she talks, and most recently, an alleged disdain she showed the press by asking them at a briefing this week to say why they are thankful this holiday season.

     Of course they would mock her appearance! She’s made them look like what they are in truth: the handmaidens of the Democrat Party always striving to make the Right – and at this time, the Trump Administration – look bad. She does it with a straightforward, no holds barred candor they can’t face and certainly can’t counteract. So they have to belittle her in the only way possible – a way they would condemn if a conservative treated a left-liberal woman that way.

     Frankly, I love this gal. I’d like to hug the stuffings out of her. She’s Trump’s buxom Eowyn of the Rohirrim, a chunky Amazon, a zaftig Valkyrie with bigger balls than any press secretary since the late and deeply lamented Tony Snow. She’s exactly what America’s fifth column of a press corps has earned, and she gives it to them good and hard at every opportunity. I hope Trump keeps her as his Head Mouthpiece for the whole of his tenure in the White House.

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4. The Sulvan Era Has Begun.

     We were warned, and we did not listen:

     James, 58, is in a sexual relationship with a 5ft tall sex doll called April – and his wife Tine doesn’t mind.

     He is still with his wife, but admits to having sex four times a week with the blonde doll – and he even takes her on dinner dates.

     The engineer is now saving up to get his hands on the world’s first sex robot Harmony, who is being designed to talk, smile and react during sex.

     April sometimes sleeps cuddling with James and the two began seeing each other while Tine was having to care for her sick mother.

     He said: "If I had to choose between April and my wife I honestly don't know what I would do."

     I can’t imagine how the moral of this story, and the development it illustrates, could be lost on anyone. Yet a substantial number of women, unwilling to cop to their causal contribution to this latter day romantic triangle, focus exclusively on him and how “awful” he is for importing a sex doll to his marriage.

     Note that the article does not mention whether James and Tine still make love with one another. I don’t think that was accidental. Do you, Gentle Reader?

     As for the title of this piece, as is so often the case it’s from C. S. Lewis:

     “Who is called Sulva? What road does she walk? Why is the womb barren on one side? Where are the cold marriages?”

     Ransom replied, “Sulva is she whom mortals call the Moon. She walks in the lowest sphere. The rim of the world that was wasted goes through her. Half of her orb is turned toward us and shares our curse. Her other half looks to Deep Heaven; happy would be he who could cross that frontier and see the fields on her further side. On this side, the womb is barren and the marriages cold. There dwell an accursed people, full of pride and lust. There when a young man takes a maiden in marriage, they do not lie together, but each lies with a cunningly fashioned image of the other, made to move and to be warm by devilish arts, for real flesh will not please them, they are so dainty (delicati) in their dreams of lust. Their real children they fabricate by vile arts in a secret place.”

     But it’s not necessarily about lust, is it? Often it’s about the coldness that seeps into the marital bed and home when she (occasionally though seldom he) decides she’s “no longer interested.” She reliably reaps what she has sown. In the cited article, it was a rubber alternative for her husband’s attention and affection. In most other cases, her competitor is of flesh and blood. I can’t decide which is worse for the future of the race.

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5. Some Thankfulnesses Not To Be Forgotten.

     As he often does, Kurt Schlichter has a list. My favorite entries are #5, #6, and #7:

     No. 5: Be Thankful We Have Fewer Perverts Than The Liberals.
     No. 6: Be Thankful For Dogs.
     No. 7: Be Thankful That We Have All The Guns.

     Number 7 is the capper. Stay armed, fellow Americans. It’s more important than most of you know.

     And from all of us here at the Fortress of Crankitude, a Happy belated Thanksgiving to you all. Now put the car keys back in your pocket and sit down. It’s far too dangerous to go anywhere. It’s Black Friday, don’t y’know?