Both.

There are two explanations [for "what the heck happened in the Iowa cornfields"]: it is a conspiracy of the Washington Consensus cabal denying Bernie a clean win and essentially muddying the waters…or it is total and utter incompetence of bringing an untested, non-transparent technology into the democratic process.

Clarmond: "Iowa Showed 'American Democracy' May Now Be Just Another Developing World Dictatorship." By Chris Andrew at Clarmond Wealth, ZeroHedge, 2/4/20.

Pearls of expression.

17-year-old Climate alarmist Greta Thunburg has been nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize, prompting the internet to attempt to re-balance the scales of sanity back from bat-shit-crazy.

"Greta 'Put Them Against The Wall' Thunberg Nominated For Nobel Peace Prize." By Steve Watson, ZeroHedge, 2/4/20.

Alternative Browsers to Chrome?

In the light of this and other threats to privacy, I'd like to change browsers.

I'd like to find one that has the functionality of Chrome. I like my extensions. I've used Brave, but I don't want to have to install the extensions through their clunky framework. Many of my favs are simply not available on that platform.

I'm testing out Chromium, a clone that I've used with my Raspberry. I'll post again after I've had some time to give it a spin.

Any other ideas?

Time for Schiff to Have an Intervention

I HOPE he's just a drunk. I'd hate to think his tangled thinking is the result of mental instability.

Schiff says that Trump needs to be stopped, because otherwise, he will sell Alaska to the Russians.

Several points come to mind:

• Russia already has a frozen, mineral and oil rich terrority - it's called Siberia. If Schiff looks at a world map, he will see that it's just a teensy bit to the left of Alaska. Why should Putin spend money to get more of the same?
• Trump is a real-estate guy - he knows that a guy who already has a mansion is a poor prospect for another. A better buyer would be an energy-poor country - like Japan, for example. If you don't have a need, why pay top dollar?
• Alaska has not been fully exploited for its minerals and other resources. It's a potential gold mine (so to speak). Who sells a gold mine, without being sure that it is played out? Whatever you think of Trump, he has a good eye for an investment.

It's time. Time for the fellows with the restraining white jackets to descend upon Congress, and corral these clearly loony fools - starting with Schiff, but not exempting Nadler, Abrams, and the rest of the goofs that pushed this losing proposition on the rest of the House.

I'm still amazed that these guys have a job. If the GOP doesn't target those districts with SANE candidates, they're missing a bet.

Concerning Rush Limbaugh

     The best measure of a man’s impact on the world is the intensity of the reaction to news that he has departed it, or that he soon will.

     Rush Limbaugh is not a politician. He’s never held public office. He’s not a Captain of Industry. He holds no Nobel Prizes. He’s not celebrated for great works of humanitarianism. He’s a commentator whose preferred medium is radio, at which he has done superbly well. Yet the news of his Stage 4 lung cancer – barring a miracle, a sentence of near-term expiration – has much of America agog.

     Yes, I know about the effusions of hatred and ill-wishing toward him on social media. But the overwhelming majority of the emissions over Limbaugh’s malady have been expressions of sadness, even extreme sadness. We anticipate the loss of a man who for three decades spoke for us eloquently, forcefully, and memorably. We cannot imagine ever again seeing his like.

     Rush Limbaugh is the voice of Forgotten America: the millions who hold to the traditional vision of the nation as a place where men could be free.

     Yes, I’ve disagreed with him on one or two things. What does that matter? He energized a dying medium in a fashion no one could have expected: by talk. And what talk! He was incisive, clear, knowledgeable, and funny. In a time of grim hyper-earnestness, Limbaugh could entertain and enlighten with the same words.

     A friend of mine put it concisely: “He always knows his shit.” More than that, he knew how to couch a verbal lance. Does anyone else remember the first “caller abortion?” Does anyone else remember laughing hysterically when he said to his engineer “Did we get it all?”

     I have his first two books: The Way Things Ought To Be and See, I Told You So. Though print is a less immediate medium than radio, he managed to convert his voice virtues substantially into printed words. Many a non-fiction writer could do well by studying those books.

     The Left’s drive for the reimposition of the Fairness Doctrine has always been about Limbaugh. He’s making us look bad! Get him off the air! But they couldn’t. He had a listener base that was larger and more faithful than any in history. No “progressive” legislator dared to move openly against him; it would be too likely that the legislator, not Limbaugh, would suffer for it. Limbaugh was a one-man impassable barrier against the resurgence of censorship of the media for political advantage.

     Once they realized that they couldn’t silence him, they tried to compete with him. My God, the abysmal depth, the ludicrousness of their failures! Time after time left-wing mouthpieces tried the talk-radio format, only to crash and burn so swiftly that it was as if their demises had been foreordained. Ask Jim Hightower, or Alec Baldwin, about their experiences with talk-radio...from a safe distance.

     Of very few of us will it be said – truthfully, at least – that “He changed the world for the better.” Rush Limbaugh made America a much different nation than the one into which he was born, and he did it almost exclusively with his voice. “Talent on loan from God,” indeed. His achievement should be celebrated by all who understand and love freedom.

Exploding the "honest discussion about guns" garbage.

Listen to this outstanding 2018 speech by Republican Delegate Nick Freitas Speech before the Virginia House of Delegates (7:21 mins.):

It's a speech that could be made on any topic of interest in what passes for American politics these days. Rational and civil v. dishonest and fact free.

Read Marta Hernandez's piece, below, while you're at it. She pulls no punches where the Virginia democrats are in terms of jamming gun madness down the throats of people who know what the Second Amendment is all about. What it's about, of course, is people like the Virginia Democrats – our enemies.

H/t: "Commonsense Discussion on Guns." By Marta Hernandez, Victory Girls, 1/26/20.

How Soon Before the Vile Left Begins to Celebrate?

In a shocking disclosure, Rush Limbaugh announced that he has late stage lung cancer.

It's not a total surprise - for years, he has kidded about his "formerly nicotine-stained fingers". But, as a former heavy smoker, he had to know this was a possibility.

The only surprise is how soon the Left will unleash their vile, gleeful celebration. You know they will. They may try to put on their 'solemn' Impeachment faces. But soon, very soon, the giggles will burst out, the smirks will escape, and - no surprise to any of us - they will begin cackling and making jokes.

If we were to make such statements about one of their heroes, they would go DEFCON 10 (yes, I know the scale only goes to 5, but...). We, not being complete tools, wouldn't say any such thing.

But, they won't refrain. They will go on a crusade (can I use that word?) to try to top the previous snarky gibe. It won't end until Limbaugh dies - if then.

The 2020 Super Bowl Stripper Show

I just woke up a short time ago. Hadn't bothered to watch the game - nor the (in)famous halftime show.

Judging from the Youtube feed, I didn't miss much.

I had no idea who Shakira was (still don't really), but she's a very young-looking singer. She was born in 1977, so she's apparently 43 - she really does NOT look it. She gathered some criticism for some tongue-wagging (not nearly as explicit as Mili's), hip-shaking, and questionable lyrics.

But, when you view the video above, she looks positively virginal, compared to J-Lo. Her routine was frankly raunchy, involved MUCH body-touching, and had very little actual singing and dancing. At the end, both women dance a routine together, but Shakira is clearly a superior dancer, as well as more graceful. Shakira is actually a musician, playing guitar and writing her own songs.

J-Lo's performance involved a stripper pole (?) and she apparently had some sort of scabies or lice infestation, as she couldn't stop scratching/touching herself throughout her routine. Near the end, she appears garbed in a feathered, reversible flag vest, Puerto Rico on one side, USA on the other. Much of her performance was in Spanish. I can actually understand that with Shakira, as she was born in Columbia, and is very popular with the Hispanic crowd.

J-Lo, on the other hand, was born in the Bronx. Her parents, native Puerto Ricans, stressed the importance of speaking English (practically child abuse!). Her acting work is variable, from OK to truly lousy. She is a regular on the "See Me!" gossip circuit of TV and magazines, where she opines on world politics, the importance of family, and other such trendy topics.

Quickies: On The Vital Cultural Appropriation Front

     It seems that CNN just had to piss in the Super PunchBowl:

     On an average NFL Sunday at Arrowhead Stadium in Kansas City, one is bound to see some tomahawk chops. Maybe some Native American headdresses.

     The stadium is the home of the NFL's Kansas City Chiefs, one of several American sports teams that copy Native American imagery and traditions. Now that the Chiefs will take the field for Super Bowl LIV, their customs and costumes are on full display.

     How did the team, founded in 1959, come to have such a loaded name? And why does the practice of such cultural appropriation still endure?

     Yes, really. On Super Bowl Sunday. Americans simply cannot be allowed to enjoy their football spectacle, their franks in a blanket, or their chips ’n’ dip without at least some infliction of left-wing pseudo-controversy. Over at Victory Girls, Kim Hirsch comments:

     CNN will not be deterred by us folks in Flyover Country. Instead they tell us that the team was named after a white man who (gasp) “impersonated Native American culture.” How outrageous!

     That man would be Harold Roe Bartle, who served for two terms as mayor of Kansas City in the 1950’s. But before he became mayor, Bartle helped to establish the Boy Scouts in the Kansas City area, growing its membership from 2300 in the late 1920’s to over 30,000 over the next 20 years. For that, Bartle earned the nickname, “Chief.”

     Later, during his time as mayor, Bartle brought two professional sports teams to Kansas City: a baseball team and the Dallas Texans football team. Fans entered a contest to choose the name of the football team, and “Chiefs” was chosen to honor the mayor.

     Yet CNN focused not on Bartle’s accomplishments — of which there were many — but how he “culturally appropriated” Native Americans in his work with the Boy Scouts, namely by creating the Scout group “Tribe of Mic-O-Say.”

     Yes, really. And we also have this breaking news:

     MINAS TIRITH (AP): The League Against Cultural Appropriation has filed suit against both the Texas Rangers of Major League Baseball and the New York Rangers of the National Hockey League for appropriating the cognomen of the Dunedain of northeastern Eriador, which is often called Arnor by the irredentist movement. The AP's representative in the palace press pool sought the opinion of King Elessar Telcontar, who wore that moniker as "Strider the Ranger" before his ascension to the throne, but so far his press secretary has declined to comment. (Queen Arwen Evenstar's publicist told our stringer to "Come back when you can ask in proper Sindarin Elvish.") More on this story as it develops.

     Yes! Really!

Quickies: Why Bloomberg?

     The sudden warm embrace of Michael Bloomberg by the Democrat National Committee is unsurprising – but not because they think they finally have a candidate who can beat President Trump.

     Bloomberg is a very rich man. His personal assets have been estimated at about $45 billion, which is a lot of money even in counterfeit bills. Money isn’t directly convertible to votes or proportional political influence, but it does have a substantial role in the politics of state and federal elections. Thus I can easily imagine a discussion between Bloomberg and the DNC that ran like this:

DNC: How much are you willing to commit to the purposes we specify?
Bloomberg: How much do you need?
DNC: To cover 2020 Congressional and Senatorial campaign needs, about $5 billion.
Bloomberg: And what would I get for that?
DNC: A guaranteed place in the candidates’ debates, good until the Convention chooses a nominee.
Bloomberg: And afterward?
DNC: That would largely be up to you. Get yourself through the primary system without embarrassing yourself, and you’d have a good chance to make it a “brokered convention.” The superdelegates don’t get to vote unless no one wins on the first nominating ballot. But should no one get a clear majority on the first ballot...get the idea?
Bloomberg: Hm. I’d have to do some research to determine their prices.
DNC: We can help with that. And remember, if you get the nomination, you’re legally allowed to spend as much of your own money on your candidacy as you please.
Bloomberg: I like it. Shake on it?

     How plausible does it sound to you?

After Impeachment (If There IS an After)

I'm feeling more than a little relieved - our Long National Nightmare looks to be over, soon.

However, knowing the underhanded tactics of the Dems, I won't breathe easily until after the final vote (and, knowing the Democrats, a lot of noisy posturing).

About the only thing that gives me hope for the next year is that the Jacka$$ Party is so filled with egomaniacs, they are likely to form a Circular Firing Squad, taking out other D's in the process.

Some things I'm looking forward to:

• Preparing to file our taxes - MUCH more interesting, and involving less creative presentation of the 'facts'.
• FINALLY being over this respiratory infection. I'm in the last days of it.
• FINALLY being able to return to some time in the gym. My knees have been quite painful lately, and I could hardly spend more than an hour or two at a stretch out of bed. Really, I shouldn't complain - the ortho guy says that the deterioration is not that bad. Not nearly bad enough to replace them. I'm such a baby about pain.
• Being able to turn on the TV without the breathlessly excited Dems crowing about how Trump is 'goin' down'. I may do a mash-up of all the Sad Faces that will follow the vote (Wednesday, probably).
• Enjoying and anticipating the furor that will follow this year's sabotage of The Bern. Truly, he is the Charlie Brown of politics, endlessly falling for the promises of Lucy. It will be epic to see the frustrated supporters in tears.
• Enjoying watching Yet Another Dem Candidate burn through millions in an effort to stop Bern. Apparently, Bloomberg is the latest Great White Hope. Once again, the powers in the D Party have tinkered with the rules for debate qualification to allow the Rich White Guy to get in, despite having shut down People of Color, using different rules. Same Old, Same Old.
• Getting back to my bioterrorism novel. I've been both too busy with life issues, and too sick/injured to work on it much in the last 3 months. I need to get cracking, as the topic is quite timely.

Enjoy the Super Bowl, if that's your idea of fun. I'm strictly a social watcher of sports (other than the Cleveland Indians, that consume me in season). I do it to give my husband someone to talk with about the game, as his brothers (also rabid fans) live far away.

Oh, and - Happy Groundhog Day!

Sunday, Fatty Sunday (UPDATED)

     [Fran here. Once again, back by popular demand: My essay on the true, inner meaning of Super Bowl Sunday, first published in 2013.
     What’s that you say? No, we won’t be watching the game. We will be eating all the naughty finger foods, chips, and dip, though. Some traditions must be respected! ]

---

It's here.
The day of wings.
The day of chips and dip.
The day of franks in a blanket (more mustard, please).
The day of bagel bites, and pizza bits, and potato puffs, and little triangles of phyllo pastry filled with spinach, or mushrooms, or feta cheese, or nonspecific ground-up spicy crap that failed the entrance exam to become sausage.
The day when all of America, svelte, middling, and rotund, shoves its diets to the side and proclaims itself...

Free To Nosh!
Free To Nosh!!
Thank God Almighty,
FREE TO NOSH!!!

New Year's Eve has nothing on Super Bowl Sunday.

Oh, the commercials are funny, too.

---

All the above should be taken with a grain of Alka-Seltzer, of course. What sports fan could fail to love America's biggest secular holiday? All right, the game is usually well below legitimate expectations for something so ballyhooed, the commentary that encrusts it before, during and afterward often reaches undreamed-of heights of unjustified hyperbole, and the half-time extravaganza would embarrass a Las Vegas pimp. So what? America is replete with excess just straining to be let out somewhere. A football game is a more suitable venue than most, what with its 300-pound behemoths, their absurd after-play (?) celebrations, their many colorful extra-legal adventures, and their heavyweight-boxing-like trash talk.

Given all that, consider for a moment that the biggest controversy in the NFL for a whole season was the wholesome, deeply devout Tim Tebow's habit of offering a prayer of gratitude after a touchdown.

---

Some comedian -- it might have been Jerry Seinfeld -- opined recently that being a fan of a professional sports franchise in this year of Our Lord 2013 is essentially "rooting for laundry." He has a point:

• Though each team is affiliated with a city, its players normally don't come from that city (or anywhere near it).
• The teams consider themselves free to relocate should their gate receipts prove unsatisfactory.
• Quite a lot of the players aren't Americans and speak little English.
• Players very rarely stay with a single team throughout their careers.
• Free agency has reduced players' team loyalty and the supposed drive for team championships to a laughable "oh yeah, of course" afterthought.
• Behavioral standards in pro sports -- the actual standards, as opposed to notional ones -- are lower than in most state prisons.
• The star performers are generally more interested in garnering advertising endorsements and tie-ins than anything else. When not embroiled in steroids prosecutions or paternity scandals, that is.

So just what is a New York Yankees fan, or a San Francisco 49ers fan, or a Chicago Bulls fan, or a Phoenix Coyotes fan rooting for? The emblem on "his" team's uniforms?

Nope. Not possible. The dullest, least conscious sports-addicted couch potato couldn't be that brain-dead.

Gotta be the junk food.

---

The room is all empty except for the screen
Some guys are in red shirts, some guys are in green
There's a break in the action, but soon there'll be more
I'd go to the bathroom but someone might score, on,

ESPN, ESPN
You're the reason I'm single again
Life is for losers, sports is your friend
And who's got more sports on than ESPN?

I'd like to go out but my wallet is gone
But who wants to go out, when there's volleyball on?
And there's synchronized swimming and football ahead
There's bowling for morons, and golf for the dead, on...

ESPN, ESPN
You're the reason I'm single again
Life is for losers, sports is your friend
And who's got more sports on than ESPN?

ESPN, ESPN
You're the reason I'm single again
Life is for losers, sports is your friend
And who's got more sports on
    (You can watch with your shorts on)
        (No weather reports on)
than ESPN?

[Transcribed from memory. By John Parker Compton, I think.]

If there's any rational reason for Americans' enthusiasm for pro sports, it has to have something to do with our disgust with politics. There might be some politics in the operation of a sports league -- in the sense of owners and franchisees jockeying for some financial advantage or other, at least -- but once the players are on the field, the rules, however complex, don't change in mid-game. At least, they're not supposed to, and we don't expect them to. That's why the "Pine Tar Tragedy" of a few years back, in which Billy Martin's citation of George Brett's illegal bat -- and it was illegal, by the rules under which the game was being played on that day -- was retroactively overruled by the American League, was so reaving. That sort of nonsense belongs on Capitol Hill, not in the pure and undefiled cathedrals of pro sports. The demagoguery and ex-post-facto rationalizations were even worse. Don't tell me about "the spirit of the rule;" tell me what the rule says in plain BLEEP!ing English -- and abide by it.

It's got nothing to do with the silly notion of sports as a substitute for warfare, either. Violence is supposed to be incidental to a sporting contest. Yes, football is largely a trial of strength and speed, but the players aren't supposed to be trying to wound or kill. Yes, occasionally a fight breaks out at a hockey game, but that's a penalizable development; it's not celebrated as the heart of the sport. The goal is competition; the ideal is fair play, a harmless encounter, and good sportsmanship from both winner and loser. Departures from that ideal, however frequent, are neither intended nor condoned.

We look to organized sports, and to the officiating that goes with it, for a vision of objectivity and fairness: Here are the players; here are the rules; may the best team win. Further elaboration is not required. Under-the-table dealings and corruption are viewed entirely negatively and punished severely.

And once a year, on the last Sunday in January or the first one in February, we all get to pig out.

So at approximately 6:18 PM (EST) this evening, have your munchies ready, warm up the Idiot Box, select your preferred laundry team and cheer it on to victory! Thousands of pro athletes (and their financial managers) are counting on you! To say nothing of America's therapeutic dietitians, to whom Super Bowl Sunday might be the most thoughtful gift any occupation has ever received.

UPDATE: I found it:

Rooting for Laundry from Melel Media on Vimeo.

The Road to Election2020 - A Brilliant Idea!

The Jobs Creation Network has created a bus-based campaign. They have outfitted a bus (with many signs promoting the advantages capitalism has over socialism), and it is touring Iowa, bringing the Pro-Capitalism message to the caucus state.

This is a terrific idea, that is (relatively) low-cost, highly visible, brings the pro-capitalism message directly to the people, and can be used even after the campaign.

Memories

     I can’t help myself about this one, Gentle Reader:

Mem'ries,
Light the corners of my mind...
Misty water-colored memories
Of the way we were

Scattered pictures,
Of the smiles we left behind...
Smiles we gave to one another
For the way we were

     I think that’s enough to establish the flavor clearly. But why? Well, because the redoubtable Glenn “InstaPundit” Reynolds has provided us with a memory over which to chortle nastily:

     It is the season of bed-wetting. For those who follow politics closely – we anxious few – every new poll, whether from the UK or the US, is arriving freighted with apocalyptic significance.

     It’s true that the stakes are high. In five months’ time, we could be standing among the smoking ruins of liberal democracy. The Trump coat of arms will be emblazoned on the dome of the Capitol. The British Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, will be making tinny jokes about bulldogs as Vladimir Putin moves tanks to the Finnish border.

     On the other hand, the post-war order may be looking remarkably intact, Britain having voted emphatically to Remain, a liberal Atlanticist with unexciting ideas installed in the Oval Office, and the England football team having returned home from France after three matches of unbearable mediocrity.

     Read every word, Gentle Reader. Immerse yourself in the unsurpassable arrogance. Let the memories of politician, pundit, and celebrity certainty flood through you. You’ll find that you can’t help laughing hysterically.

     Back then – was it really only three and a half years ago? My word – the consensus admitted of no dissent: Donald Trump was not going to be president. The United Kingdom would not exit the European Union. All the “people in the know,” the folks whose ears decades of experience had tuned to the vibrations from the corridors of power, were certain. But why? Whence came their absolute faith in...themselves?

     The answer isn’t hard to find: from the start of the Wilson Administration to the end of the Obama regime, the grip on power of the political / bureaucratic / media elite (a.k.a. the Deep State) had never been seriously threatened. What’s harder to find is an explanation for why those selfsame, perfectly assured mouthpieces for The Way Things Are And Must Be haven’t yet grasped how wrong they were.

     Once upon a time, back when blogging was young, there was a lovely, intelligent lady named Megan McArdle, who went by the Internet moniker of Jane Galt. Miss McArdle promulgated an observation that came to be called Jane Galt’s Law:

The party in power is smug and arrogant.
The party out of power is insane.

     That might seem a trifle overwrought, but it comes closer to capturing the psychological state of the American elite – first before the 2016 presidential election, then afterward – than any more temperate assessment.

     “The party in power” in pre-November-2016 America, nominally the Democrats but what a deeper look reveals as the political / bureaucratic / media elite, was convinced that its grip on the electoral system would be sufficient to prevent upstart Donald Trump from gaining the White House. It had all manner of tools at its disposal. In combination, those tools must have appeared invincible. Their duly Anointed One, Hillary Rodham Clinton, would become the president as they had foreordained. A chastened Donald Trump would return to his real-estate empire, his fantasies of national leadership permanently dispelled. Business as usual would continue without a hitch.

     The elite did not believe its hegemony could be challenged.

     Then came the election. What’s this? Trump has won – and by a commanding Electoral College margin, at that? How can this be? It must be a mistake! The nation would not dare to defy Our will, We Who Are The Ultimate Power. It must be corrected at once!

     The inability to believe was transformed into a refusal to believe: a willful rejection of the reality that had whacked the elite across the chops.

     The elite went from smug and arrogant to insane with the flip of a voting machine lever. Innumerable YouTube video collages testify to their frothing at the mouth. Personages from cable-news opinion-mongers all the way to former presidents girded themselves for war against the Usurper. That war, while it has gone through several stages, has never come near to bringing them what they seek. As of yesterday, they appear to have expended the last of their ammunition.

     They were certain of victory.

     They’re still insane with rage. They’ll remain so until the levers of power are once again secure in their hands. At that point they’ll revert to smugness and arrogance. They’ll contrive further protections against ever again having those levers snatched out of their hands, of course. You’ve probably read about some of their notions: the “National Popular Vote Compact,” the proposal to divide the District of Columbia into 127 states, the enfranchising of convicted felons and illegal aliens, a new “Fairness Doctrine” that would cover cable news and the Internet, and so forth.

     No doubt the elite of the United Kingdom is planning something similar. It’s what elites do.

---

     I started this screed in a jovial mood, something akin to Schadenfreude. But I intend to close on a monitory note. Should the elite of the United States manage to re-establish its hegemony, it will take whatever steps are necessary to prevent any future loss of power. Those folks believe that they can do perfectly well without “the consent of the governed,” and they mean to prove it.

     Keep your powder dry.

Quickies: What’s The Priority Here?

     First, courtesy of 90 Miles From tyranny, a screenshot from Twitter:

     Second, a few words from CNN “analyst” Brandon Tensley:

     Washington (CNN): It's a statement that's as predictable as it is infuriating: President Donald Trump's administration lacks diversity.

     On Tuesday, Trump tweeted photos of a briefing he'd received on the new coronavirus spreading out of China.

     "We will continue to monitor the ongoing developments," the President said in his post. "We have the best experts anywhere in the world, and they are on top of it 24/7!"

     Who are these experts? They're largely the same sorts of white men (and a couple women on the sidelines) who've dominated the Trump administration from the very beginning.

     Let’s assume, just for the sake of argument, that the priority is stopping the spread of this new and threatening disease. I mean, it could be pandering to the mouthpieces of activist minority groups, but I’d prefer to think that President Trump is more concerned with the health of Americans and (secondarily) the rest of the world. I’d also prefer to think that the Center for Disease Control (CDC) hires and promotes on the basis of recognized expertise in epidemiology. So: we look around the table at the group President Trump has called together, and we find a sea of largely melanin-poor faces. Ought we to assume that they’re not highly regarded epidemiologists, or failing that, experts in other fields essential to dealing with international crises?

     I think we can deduce Brandon Tensley’s priority:

     And as a CNN employee, that priority meshes well with that of CNN, home of Jim Acosta and other hard-driven enemies of the Trump Administration.

     This “diversity” crap has to be whipped back into its kennel. It’s become a genuine canker on the national discourse. But just for giggles, let’s entertain the possibility that a president – not Trump; he’s much too smart and responsible – would be so concerned with skin colors that his decisions about whom to include on a commission dedicated to fighting a global plague would put skin colors above all other considerations. Alternately, we could make him obsessed with sexual diversity, in which case he’d put the inclusion of women, homosexuals, and transgenders above epidemiological expertise. In either case, the most likely outcome would be that the plague would go on longer and claim more victims. But the activist minority groups would be placated: the race hustlers, the gender-war feminists, and the drag queens. That’s the important thing.

     Never in my life have I read anything as scurrilous and contemptible as Tensley’s diatribe. He should be grateful that I have no power to punish him for it, other than this excoriation.

     He probably venerates Obama. Obama, after all, had the “right” skin color, and pandered to the minority mouthpieces almost reflexively. Never mind that he was a deceitful son of a bitch who put subjugating Americans and power for the Democrats – especially for black Democrats – above all other considerations.

     At this point CNN has descended beneath contempt. Whoever makes its editorial decisions should be tarred and feathered. Jeff Zucker deserves to be stripped of his citizenship and run out of the country. His “news network” deserves the ignominy it has earned.

I See a Fine Mustachioed Hand in This Affair

Not sure where the phrase "fine Italian hand" comes from, but it evokes someone who works in the background, strategically nudging chess pieces towards a desired end.

Surprisingly, for a guy know to have temper tantrums, refusal to cooperate with others, and keep a carefully selected group of syncophants close to him, Bolton seems to have orchestrated a good part of this intended coup.

Yevgeny Vindman reportedly is the NSC staffer given charge of reviewing John Bolton’s self-sanctifying memoir manuscript, which somehow leaked to the New York Times last week.

The boldface addition is mine. I fail to see that the leakage is a mystery. Amazingly, once again, leaks benefiting Democrats are "brave, and standing up to the tyranny", but similar leaks that hurt Democrats are "vile, felonious CRIMES".

Eh.

I think leakers of any party are weasels. However, with a DOJ, FBI, and assorted security agencies determined to be blind to security abuses, spying, anti-government activities, and all of the various means by which the Deep State pursued their attempted coup, I can understand some of the non-Leftists still in government trying to get support by public disclosure of the treachery.

Bolton has a lot to answer for. When he was fired, he apparently decided to Unleash the Kraken upon Trump. Hope the little weasel pays for his actions.

The Ultimate Denunciation

     [Gentle Readers please take note: The following composition is not mine. I first encountered it many years ago at Free Republic, and foolishly neglected to preserve a copy. Happily, I’ve stumbled over it again, and its matchless eloquence strikes me as powerfully as ever. (I particularly like Paragraph #4, with its quaint British, even Shakespearean flavor.) I recommend keeping a copy close at hand; as a reference work for the generation of insults, it is unsurpassed. -- FWP]

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     You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. I wager you couldn't empty a boot of excrement were the instructions on the heel. You are a canker. A sore that won't go away. I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you. Try to edit your responses of unnecessary material before attempting to impress us with your insight. The evidence that you are a nincompoop will still be available to readers, but they will be able to access it more rapidly.

     You snail-skulled little rabbit. Would that a hawk pick you up, drive its beak into your brain, and upon finding it rancid set you loose to fly briefly before spattering the ocean rocks with the frothy pink shame of your ignoble blood. May you choke on the queasy, convulsing nausea of your own trite, foolish beliefs. You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You're a fool, an ignoramus.

     And what meaning do you expect your delusional self-important statements of unknowing, inexperienced opinion to have to us who think and reason? What fantasy do you hold that you would believe that your tiny-fisted tantrums would have more weight than that of a leprous desert rat, spinning rabidly in a circle, waiting for the bite of the snake? You are a waste of flesh.

     You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a disease, you puerile one-handed slack-jawed , drooling meatslapper. You smarmy lagerlout git. You bloody woofter sod. Bugger off, pillock. You grotty wanking oik artless base-court apple-john. You clouted boggish foot-licking twit. You dankish clack-dish plonker. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You cockered bum-bailey poofter. You gob-kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill.

     You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away. I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. I mean rock-hard stupid. Dehydrated-rock-hard stupid. Stupid so stupid that it goes way beyond the stupid we know into a whole different dimension of stupid. You are trans-stupid stupid. Meta-stupid. Some pure essence of a stupid so uncontaminated by anything else as to be beyond the laws of physics that we know. I'm sorry. I can't go on. This is an epiphany of stupid for me.

     After this, you may not hear from me again for a while. I don't have enough strength left to deride your ignorant questions and half-baked comments about unimportant trivia, or any of the rest of this drivel. Duh. I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a load of babbling was hardly effective.

     True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us "normal" people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. But we sometimes forget that there are "challenged" persons in this world who find these things more difficult. If I had known, that this was your case then I would have never read your post. It just wouldn't have been "right". Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.

     You're an idiot. A moron of the highest order. You're so stupid it's a wonder and a pity you can remember to breath. Intelligent ideas bounce off your head as if it were coated with teflon. Creative thoughts take alternate transportation in order to avoid even being in the same state as you. If you had an original thought it would die of loneliness before the hour was out. On an intelligence scale of 1 to 10 (10 corresponding to the highest attainable IQ) you're rating is so far into negative numbers that one would need to travel into another quantum reality in order to even catch a distant glimpse of it.

     Your personality is that of a rabid Chihuahua intent on destroying its own tail. Your powers of observation are akin to those of the bird that keeps slamming into the picture window trying to get that other bird it keeps seeing. You are walking, talking proof that you don't have to be sentient to survive, and that Barnum was thinking of you when he uttered his immortal phrase regarding the birth of a sucker. You are, at varying times, tedious, boring, and even occasionally earth shatteringly hilarious in your idiocy, routinely childish, moronic, pathetic, wretched, disgusting and pitiful.

     You are wholly without any redeeming social grace or value. If God ever decides to give the planet an enema you'd better run like the wind because anywhere you stand is a suitable place for The Insertion. There is no animal so disgusting, so vile that it deserves comparison to you, for even the lowest, dirtiest, most parasitic member of the animal kingdom fills an ecological niche. You fill no niche. To call you a parasite would be injurious and defamatory to the thousands of honest parasitic species. You are worse than vermin, for vermin do not pretend to be what it is not. You are truly human garbage. You are a fraudulent, lying, predatory charlatan. You are of less worth than a burnt-out light bulb. You will forever live in shame.

     You have nothing to say, and Godwin's Law does not apply when writing about you. You are the anti-Midas, for all that you touch becomes valueless and unusable. Mothers gather their children close when you appear. You are an aberration, a corruption, and a boil that needs to be lanced. You are a poison in need of being vomited. You are a tooth so rotten it infects the whole body. You are sperm that should have been captured in a condom and flushed down a toilet.

     I don't like you. I don't like anybody who has as little respect for others as you do. Go away, you swine. You're a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a cad, and a weasel. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon. You are a curdled staggering mutant dwarf smeared richly with the effluvia and offal accompanying your alleged birth into this world. Meaningful to no one, abandoned by the puke-drooling, giggling beasts that sired you and then killed themselves in recognition of what they had done.

     I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformity. I wretch at the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut. Lepers avoid you. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing. You are a weed, a fungus, and the dregs of this earth. And did I mention you smell? Monkeys look down on you. Even sheep won't have sex with you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot. You are a waste of flesh. On a good day you're a halfwit. You are deficient in all that lends character. You have the personality of wallpaper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. You are the source of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go.

     You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away. I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. Maybe later in life, after you have learned to read, write, study, spell, and count, you will have more success. True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us "normal" people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. It just wouldn't have been "right". Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.

     You are hypocritical, greedy, violent, malevolent, vengeful, cowardly, deadly, mendacious, meretricious, loathsome, despicable, belligerent, opportunistic, barratrous, contemptible, criminal, fascistic, bigoted, racist, sexist, avaricious, tasteless, idiotic, brain-damaged, imbecilic, insane, arrogant, deceitful, demented, lame, self-righteous, byzantine, conspiratorial, satanic, fraudulent, libellous, bilious, splenetic, spastic, ignorant, clueless, illegitimate, harmful, destructive, dumb, evasive, double-talking, devious, revisionist, narrow, manipulative, paternalistic, fundamentalist, dogmatic, idolatrous, unethical, cultic, diseased, suppressive, controlling, restrictive, malignant, deceptive, dim, crazy, weird, dystrophic, stifling, uncaring, plantigrade, grim, unsympathetic, jargon-spouting, censorious, secretive, aggressive, mind-numbing, abrasive, poisonous, flagrant, self-destructive, abusive, and socially-retarded.

     Shut up and go away lest you achieve the physical retribution your behaviour merits.

Holding Schiff's Feet to the Fire

Tyler O'Neil has a must-read story that focuses on the erratic and twisted logic that condemns President Trump's action vis-a-vis Ukraine's inquiries on Burisma, vs. Obama's actions against then-candidate Trump.

The problem, for the Democrats, is that - no surprise to Liberty's Torch readers - Obama and the Democratic party leaders have a long history of weaponizing the Deep State to take down their opponents, use questionable investigations/inquiries to smear them, and otherwise act just exactly as they claim Trump did.

But, different when Dems do it. Because - oh, look! There's a squirrel!

Their whole "case" is an illusion.

Some factors that may lead to a quick vote to acquit:

• Trump's numbers, both in polls, and in the numbers that are willing to turn out in freezing weather to see him, are spectabular.
• The impeachment did not do what the Dems expected - obsessive viewing of the hearings, floods of letters and other contacts with Senators urging them to vote him GUILTY, GUILTY, GUILTY! Most people can barely bring themselves to watch the evening summaries.
• No major catastrophes, like a stock market crash (I just checked my portfolio, and it's in really good shape). No rioting in the streets (they should have planned better, and launched the impeachment earlier).
• The talking heads are, for the most part, boring. A lot of people have stopped paying attention.
• The GOP is prepared to RUMBLE, BABY! The individual Senators have used social media well, both laying out the arguments against a guilty verdict, and threatening to bring a whole lot of exposure to a VERY dirty crew - DIRTY, DIRTY, DIRTY.
• China has stopped saber-rattling, and is more than busy with the Coronavirus.
• Russia is dealing with issues involving their leadership, and the plans for succession of Putin.
• The EU just got their ass handed to them, via Boris Johnson's quick movement of Brexit through Parliament, and are struggling with the Muslim invaders.

So, given all that, and a distinct lack of enthusiasm in Washington, I think (pray) that this will soon be over.

Then, it's MAGA2020, and we're Ready to RUMBLE again!

Watch the new GOP ad. It's powerful.

Quickies: Impeachment Fail

     Among the reasons the “trial” of President Donald Trump before the Senate is likely to come to an end today is this one, nicely expressed by a minor character in The Godfather:

     She threw it all away just to make me look ridiculous. And a man in my position can't afford to be made to look ridiculous.

     For “she” in the above, substitute the impeachment-crazed House Democrats. For the “man in my position,” substitute any Republican Senator (and possibly a few Democrats) who’s been listening to the representations of the Democrat “impeachment managers” and trying to make a particle of sense out of them.

     I have no doubt that several Republican Senators would have been happy to vote for Trump’s removal from office had the Democrats presented them with a non-ridiculous justification. After all, several GOP Senators are “NeverTrumpers,” or close to it. Collins, Alexander, Murkowski, and Romney are the names that spring to mind. Trump’s several bold and brilliant successes in matters that range across the policy spectrum have occasionally made those Senators (among others) look like wastes of a perfectly good seat in that body. So they might have been eager for some rationale to vote against him.

     Now Lisa Murkowski is a likely vote to foreclose further testimony: i.e., no witnesses will be called by the Senate. Several Democrats – Manchin, Sinema, and Doug Jones – are said to be leaning that way as well. So it is highly likely that the proceedings will end today with an acquittal.

     Murkowski, in particular, is unwilling to be made to look ridiculous. Perhaps Collins and Romney will bite into that bullet; Collins is a wild card and Romney’s fuming anger toward Trump is well known. As for Lamar Alexander, I’d say it’s six-five and pick ‘em. But Murkowski alone would give the “get it over with” group fifty votes. That’s enough to defeat the suggestion that the Senate should call further witnesses.

     Overall, the “impeachment managers” have been tedious and insulting. They’ve produced no credible case that President Trump has committed an offense that would justify his removal. Indeed, Jerry Nadler alone would have been enough to queer the pitch, with his rants about how voting to exonerate Trump would be tantamount to treason. But add Adam Schiff, who might be the most disliked man in politics at this time, and you have a recipe for a boredom and insult souffle that was guaranteed to fall flat.

     For an excellent, more detailed presentation on why the Democrats’ fatuous impeach-and-remove case is an epic failure, see Mollie Hemingway’s excellent article at The Federalist.

Quickies: GAAAHHHHH!

     Damn it all, only one day after a disquisition on why “the rules” aren’t necessarily binding, I find myself compelled to do this.

     Watch your homophones, Gentle Readers. Words that sound the same don’t necessarily mean the same thing. Indeed, I can’t think of a case where they do.

     I just encountered this phrase:

     If this sort of thing peaks your interest...

     No, no, NO!! The word you want is pique:

pique v: to excite (interest, curiosity, etc.):
Her curiosity was piqued by the gossip.

     I’ve been encountering quite a lot of homophone errors lately, and they drive me straight up the BLEEP!ing wall. I know that spellcheckers are useless against them. Worse, most grammar checkers won’t detect them either. The most common ones are the “its / it’s,” “to / too / two,” and “there / their / they’re” groups, but others have been proliferating in a spirit of “My turn!”

     Here’s another that’s completely avoidable: the use of lead where led — the past tense of the verb to lead — is correct.

     This one had me laughing so hard I hurt myself:

     She had a when on her right cheek.

     HUH?! The word is wen: “a benign encysted tumor of the skin, especially on the scalp, containing sebaceous matter; a sebaceous cyst.” (Dictionary.com)

     Yes, these homophone errors can be very funny, but the English language is taking a fair amount of damage from them. Words are tools! Each has its proper applications. You wouldn’t use a chainsaw to drive a nail, would you? Not a running one, at least?

     What time is it, sweetie? Only 4:40 EST? Great God in heaven, I need a drink!