Category: snivelry

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Amending the Constitution, part 28

28 June 2002

I know, every politician runs for office swearing to uphold the Constitution, and as soon as he finds out that it doesn’t authorize his pet schemes, he either ignores his oath, or proposes to amend it. Maybe I’m no different. You be the judge.

Our Federal Constitution had a few problems from the get go. That noxious business about three fifths of a person was a bit of an embarrassment, but that was taken care of by the Thirteenth, Fourteenth, and Fifteenth Amendments, and, on paper at least, all men have stood equally before the law. And then there’s that statement I just made about “all men,” and that problem was addressed by the Nineteenth Amendment which gave women the vote in 1920. Better late than never, I reckon. So we have made some progress since the Bill of Rights was tacked on in 1791, and I sure wouldn’t want to monkey with that.

On the other hand, there have also been some mistakes along the way. I have serious problems with the Sixteenth Amendment and the odious income tax, and I’d be happy to see that one go. And the Eighteenth Amendment, which brought us America’s First War on Drugs was a complete disaster, but that was taken care of by the Twenty-first Amendment, which nevertheless granted to the States the Authority to conduct their own Wars on Alcohol, but at least Prohibition was no longer a national disgrace, merely a local one.

So there’s been some progress, some missteps along the way, and a few mid-course corrections, but by and large our Constitution (including its amendment provisions) has worked fairly well. But, like all would be statesmen, I’m not quite satisfied. As I said, the Income Tax has got to go, and with it the Sixteenth Amendment which arguably grants it some measure of legitimacy.

Another big problem I have is with the Seventeenth Amendment. Prior to its ratification in 1913 the US Senate stood squarely in the way of the federal juggernaut and its intended encroachments on the Rights of the States. It was designed to be the brakes on the federal engine. Our bicameral national legislature was brilliantly conceived as a balance between transient popular opinion, and legitimate State authority. The House of Representatives was the People’s body, and the Senate stood up for the States. That’s why a Senator’s term is six years, whereas mine would be only two. The Senate was to be the senior deliberative body, holding back the House from its natural pandering proclivities. As it stands now, there are no significant differences between the philosophies or outlooks of the Houses of Congress. Elected Senators are merely Super-Representatives, and are beholden to the same ephemeral interests that drive the House. Originally, a Senator was a respected member of a State body, typically an elder State Legislator or Governor who would go to the District of Columbia to represent the larger interests of his entire State, rather than the more parochial concerns of a Congressional District. Now, I’m hardly inclined to denigrate the House of Representatives, particularly as I’m running for that same body, but I am keenly aware of the differences, and wish to restore the balance that our Founders intended. Hence, as a member of the House, I will offer for consideration this proposed

Restoration of the Confederal Senate Amendment

Section I: The seventeenth article of amendment to the Constitution of the United States is hereby repealed.

Section II: The Senate of the United States shall be composed of two Senators from each State, chosen in accordance to the laws thereof, for six years, and each Senator shall have one vote.
When vacancies occur in the representation of any State in the Senate, the Executive Authority of such State may make temporary appointments until the People, the Legislature, or the Executive Authority thereof fill the vacancies in accordance with State Law.

Section III: This amendment shall not be so construed as to affect the term of any Senator elected before it becomes valid as part of the Constitution.

This puts the power squarely back where it belongs, in the hands of each individual State. If one State wishes to continue letting the people elect their Senators, then they will have that authority to do so. On the other hand, if a State prefers to return to the original method of charging the state legislature with that authority, then that too would be the prerogative of that particular State. And if a State would rather that its Governor be responsible for appointing its Senate Delegation, then that State’s wishes would also be respected. The authority would be returned, in any event, to each State to function as it sees best. The united States were never intended to be an homogeneous flock of interchangeable administrative districts, but a Confederation of unique Sovereigns, each following its own lights.

update 180121: I should clarify my use of the term “legitimate State authority,” which may seem a little discordant coming from an alleged anarchist. I might plead cynical opportunism. I was running for office in 2002, after all, albeit as a Losertarian. But I’m too much the weasel for such a bald confession. Instead I’ll explain that I place it into the context of a compact between states. In continuo, the state has legitimate prerogatives, just as, in other continua, green kryptonite is a legitimate danger to Kryptonians.

update 210204: Unknown correspondents address the issue of States’ continuity of representation in the Senate, complaining that it can often take months to fill a vacant seat. Well, of course it doesn’t have to in today’s world of rapid communication, but it appears to still be a State’s prerogative. However, if Americans wish to “streamline” or “nationalize” that process, they might consider this instead:

Section II: The Senate of the United States shall be composed of two Senators from each State, chosen in accordance to the laws thereof, for six years, and each Senator shall have one vote. When vacancies occur in the representation of any State in the Senate, the Executive Authority of such State may make temporary appointments until the People, the Legislature, or the Executive Authority thereof fill the vacancies in accordance with State Law. In the event that a State’s Executive fails to make such a temporary appointment within forty-eight hours, the vacancy shall be filled by the State’s senior delegate in the House of Representatives, who shall thereupon surrender his seat in the lower House.

These comments are sponsored by The Confederate Mint (purveyors of metallic securities in gold, silver, copper, and lead). For sample sheets of Metallic Certificates (total face value One Tenth Silver Dollar) send One Silver Dime plus a self-addressed stamped envelope; or Four United States Legal Tender Federal Reserve “Dollars” in scrip, check, or money order, to Greigh Area Associates, c/o Gene Greigh // 401 Rio Concho Drive, #105; San Angelo, Texas; 76903

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Is Ashli Babbitt Crispus Attucks?

9 January 2021

I expect we cannot really know such a thing until long after the fact. With our faces pressed up still too closely to the recent awful siege of the Congress, many are having difficulty finding dispassionate perspective or meaningful context.

I am grateful for this thoughtful guest analysis by correspondent NT:

I don’t think this pathetic excuse for an “insurrection” was anywhere near well armed, organized, or popularly supported enough to represent any kind of threat to the power of the ruling government the way the Revolutionary War threatened the power of the British Crown in North America. As such, my answer is: no, I don’t think that’s a very apt comparison.

Ashli Babbitt feels more like another Jorge Gomez to me. Another rioter in the season of coronavirus killed by law enforcement for behaving very aggressively towards them. Two of, not very many actually, as far as I can tell. I was both annoyed and surprisingly relieved to discover that my research did not easily discover many people matching that description in order to make that comparison. I had not heard the name Jorge Gomez before doing that research, and I doubt Ashli Babbitt’s death will be remembered as especially any more or less important than his.

(Jorge Gomez was shot by Las Vegas Police on June 1st during a “mostly peaceful” demonstration protesting the death of George Floyd.)

curious addendum:
Tachycardia is an accelerated heart rhythm disorder, typically greater than 100bpm. In addition to possible organic defects, it can also be caused by tension, anger, exertion, or chemical stimulant.
I CAN cut back on the caffeine, and Mr Floyd COULD have foregone the fentanyl.

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“Rapping” the Fed

21 July 2018

How very gauche of our uncouth President to be “rapping” the Olympian minds of our exalted “Federal Reserve” as they pore over their auguries and divine the holiest and purest of interest rates for a grateful nation.

Backward rubes like Mr Trump might believe that in a primitive commodity based free market economy natural interest rates would be based on the perceived availability of surplus resources. In Our Enlightened Democracy we’ve learned from the great Soviet Pioneers that central planning, top down, one size fits all dicta are always superior to the chaotic caprice of capitalism and its mysterious invisible hands. All right (and wishful) thinking citizens understand that only the wizards of the Fe’ral Reserve have the moral clarity and detached objectivity to proclaim that most revered of rates. (Viva Vigorish!)

Mr Trump clearly fails to recall the Constitutional Convention of 1913 that repealed the Tenth Amendment (which theretofore had authorized State resistance to Fe’ral encroachment — really a dead letter anyway since Mr Lincoln’s invasion of the Sovereign South) and rescinded Article 1, Section 10’s prohibitions of the emission of Bills of Credit and of the States’ bar on making any Thing other than gold or silver Coin a Payment of Debts.

Silly President.  Constitutions are for tricks.

These comments are sponsored by The Confederate Mint (purveyors of metallic securities in gold, silver, copper, and lead).  For sample sheets of Metallic Certificates (total face value One Tenth Silver Dollar) send One Silver Dime plus a self-addressed stamped envelope; or Four United States Legal Tender Federal Reserve “Dollars” in scrip, check, or money order, to Greigh Area Associates, c/o Gene Greigh //  401 Rio Concho Drive, #105;  San Angelo, Texas;  76903

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Company Loves Misery

20 May 2019

Childhood for me was an intermittent horror show. 

The Thug was born in 1953.  I was born in 1956.  For most of our time growing up I was his favorite punching bag.  In 1962 our mother remarried (after divorcing our “boring” father) and began thirty-five years of excitement under the dominion of The Submariner.  Fortunately, lacking vaginas, my brothers and I weren’t all that interesting to him, so his attentions, when we did receive them, were delivered with his fists rather than his ecumenical erection.  Our baby sister, born later, was not so lucky.

Those who believe that I can’t admire the accomplishments or desire the cool stuff of others without resenting them, will likely also suspect that I was cheered by the prospect of The Thug’s coming in for “his share” of physical abuse.  Sorry, but I don’t “envy” that way.  Just because The Thug could delight in my pain, I was unable to appreciate his.  Or our other brothers’.  Or even, much later, our sister’s, whose suffering may well have eclipsed all of ours.

I may take righteous satisfaction from the punishment of the guilty, but sadism and revenge leave me cold.  Yet another of my defects (just like my lack of jealousy, resentment, loneliness, or boredom.)  But making everything WORSE for everybody (beatings all around!) didn’t make anything better for anybody.  Except Mom, maybe.  The serotonin must have been especially rich for her to forgive his raping her daughter.  My greatest regret is not killing him (The Submariner, not The Thug) when we lived together all those years ago.  It probably would have been easy.  Just jump on him from off a staircase or rooftop or tree, land on his shoulders, and quickly slit his throat, and my sister could have been saved.  But I’m a sniveling coward, so I didn’t think it through.  Upon reflection, most likely the State of Connecticut wouldn’t have gassed a twelve-year-old boy.

update 210107: I neglected to mention above that killing The Thug might also have been a kindness. Or redundant. As an enthusiastic bully, he was also, naturally, a coward, and quite possibly a sociopath as well. He hanged himself in 2009, leaving his body for his wife and dogs to discover. Abusing and betraying those weaker or dependent on him was perfectly consistent with the rest of his miserable life. I was sorry for his wife and his daughter and his grandchildren and for our Mom and for our older brother, whose birthday he picked to do himself in. I am less sorry for him than I am relieved for those he can no longer hurt.

Firehair, Bat Lash, Pow Wow Smith, El Diablo, and Johnny Thunder are all properties of Detective Comics and Warner Communications.  Their images are reproduced by Piracy Press for purposes of analysis and scholarship.  If anything, their use here constitutes free advertisement for DC‘s properties at the considerable expense of Piracy Press and Greigh Area Associates.

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Wuhan Flu™, part Two

3 January 2021

Combine a rich black wit with a vigorous immune system and you run the risk of people inferring that you are being cavalier about contagion.  

I am presently observing my first anniversary of living in a post WuFlu world.  I didn’t know it at the time, but I have since concluded that I was among the first of Americans on American soil to contract the plague.   In December of 2019 I was still employed at the QuikkStopp by the Interstate™ (aka “The Vectory™”).  My shop was about an hour’s drive from the nearest International Airport, and therefore probably less than twenty-fours away from practically any spot on Earth.  After several hours in the air, and then another hour on the road, many travelers are eager to get out and stretch their legs again.  My shop was ideal for that, being, as I said, “by the Interstate.”  We also sold gasoline and soda pop and cigarettes.

Waking up to my alarm clock on the 24th of December I felt worse than usual.  (I’ve always felt that the only thing worse than waking up to an alarm clock was being late for work, so I never expect to feel good under those circumstances.)  It wasn’t super disturbing.  It was my biennial flu, I thought, returning to recharge my immune system.  But it wasn’t quite the flu.  Sure, there were the body aches and the headache and the sore throat and the congestion and the nausea…  Well, not so much the nausea.  That was an odd part.  The nausea was low grade, but persistent.  And none of it was sufficiently debilitating to persuade me to call off working.  When faced with a choice of staying home and feeling badly, or going to work and feeling badly and getting paid for it, well, obviously, I go for trying to stay on top of the groceries and electricity.

Anyway, it lasted for ten days.  Then, for the next couple of months, the news began to spread.  By March the whole of America was awash in trauma.  Masking and assiduous hand-washing and anti-human anti-social distancing were becoming popular fads, and concerts and plays and celebrations of the Christ were being cancelled (“to flatten the curve”) and people started to adjust to “the new normal.”

Well, some of us.  I’m familiar with the sensible protocols of hygiene, and of not coughing or sneezing on other people, and of the importance of good rest and nutrition, so I didn’t change any of my behavior, except for being a little more attentive to the greater vulnerabilities of others.  I certainly didn’t want to be any sort of “Typhoid Larry,” but I also knew that a virus is a delicate thing.  If it lands on my shoulder it usually dies in a matter of hours, from dehydration or ultra-violet poisoning.  If I were to suck it up into a nostril or it landed on the welcoming wet membrane of my eye, it would probably die in a matter of seconds.  I did mention my vigorous immune system.  It takes a much heavier viral load of an unfamiliar strain to knock me over.  Wuhan Flu™ was that, in December.  Now, having been recharged, it’s just another trivial nuisance.  (For me!  Not for others!  I never said that!)

But, as usual, almost everywhere I go, I am an outlier.  People are reasonably skeptical of my claims, and I’m already a natural misanthrope, so keeping my distance is no hardship.  Again, even before this, I worked at The Vectory, so I knew that my chances of picking up something strange was elevated.  Again, I did not change my behavior, I continued to be just as cautious and prudent as ever.

And the contagion raged. And by the end of June, new policies were being handed down by employers and by the apparatchiks of the occupation.  I paraphrase:  “This plague is so dangerous, so urgent, and so serious that NEXT TUESDAY we are all required to be masked.”  Not so urgent that RIGHT NOW, but so urgent that LATER.  Believing that hygiene theatre is just as counterproductive as security theatre (thanks for the TSA, Dubya!), when my manager advised me that on-shift masking would be required, I told him that I would not be complying, fully prepared to be dismissed on the spot.  He blew it off, saying, “Don’t tell me things I don’t want to know.”  Clearly, he recognized what a valuable employee I was.  He seemed also to hope that this would soon abate.  

I guess it didn’t.  By the end of August, Mr Manager was getting too much heat from above, so he came in one morning and laid down the law.  Cheerfully I repeated my position, and dourly he asked if I would sign a resignation.  To this request I cheerfully complied also.  I have since been advised that I was surrendering any claim thereby to unenjoyment insurance, which I realized at the time.  It’s their shop, so their rules.  I was just grateful for the three months of forbearance that I’d managed to squeeze out.

Presently, I am eating my savings, holding off on tapping tax victims for as long as I can afford.  Massa took a lot of my money over the decades.  He promises that the longer I wait to ask for it back, the more I’ll get.  Meanwhile, I’m focusing my fulltime energies on literary failure.

update 210110: Mrs Axis suggests that I may be delusional to believe that I contracted this virus before it became more widely spread. Had I, considering my work environment, many others should have picked it up. Given the range of symptoms attributed to this malady, those picking it up may also have thought as little of it as I did. I cannot rule out either delusion or otherwise.
update 210122:  I stop masking every time I exit a private property confinement that requires masking for occupancy.  I have followed, and will continue to follow, the prudent masking and distancing protocols that independent merchants stipulate as a condition of entry.  I have not lost my ability to discern the differences between “important” and “urgent” and “everything.”  My disdain for foolishness is often a source of consternation for those who might conflate its broad expression for particularity, but it is not intended for those who consider provisional masking to be prudent, or even important.  My disdain, or even contempt, is for those whose posture and rhetoric and highly charged emotional responses reveal that, to them, masking is everything, and any deviation therefrom is tantamount to reckless endangerment or depraved indifference to human life or safety.  I am not killing anyone’s Grandma by breathing freely (except, of course, in the same sense that I threaten innocent strangers every time I take my car onto the road or dislodge a rock from an elevated hiking trail) though arguably Frau Braun did kill L’Historienne’s and Stargazer’s and The Enumerator’s and all their cousins’ Grandmama (7-11-33 => 4-17-20) through her cruel and oppressive “quarantine of terror.”
update 210223: I may have been a little too cheerful about all of this.
210331:  Obedience versus Faith — It has become clear that it is not enough to observe a protocol.  One mustn’t be seen discerning any of the costs or disadvantages of single-minded security.  Showing doubt sabotages public morale, and if one expressed honest (albeit game and sarcastic) skepticism of its efficacy, AND celebrated instances of unexpected masklessness, one could readily be branded a delusional unbeliever.  Video media are lousy with images of maddened crowds accosting the unmasked in public spaces.  In some cases, people have been injured, confined, and fined, for their blasphemy.  It’s like adhering to the Dicta of the Christ without acknowledging His Divinity. 
Gods (Hebrews 11:6) are not alone in their jealousy. 
Obedience without faith is empty.

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Gut Feelings

29 December 2020

It is most apt that a correspondent referred to Mr Fauci’s declarations, when describing his shifting criteria for his seeming epidemiological contradictions, as “talking out his ass.”  Fauci averred that some of the significant tools in his diagnostic kit were his “gut feelings.” It occurs to me that the expressions are linked.  What else could be the most audible and tangible expression of our gut feelings, other than flatulence?

correspondent Zovvio Quicogyf responds:
A most logical even if hilarious conclusion!
Zov is too kind, though she is correct on both counts.
I’m now curious about what else she’s right.
I should probably look into these:

Halestorm–A Novel of the American Revolution – Kindle edition by Akers, Becky. Mystery, Thriller & Suspense Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.

Abducting Arnold–A Novel of the American Revolution – Kindle edition by Akers, Becky. Mystery, Thriller & Suspense Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.

These comments are sponsored by The Confederate Mint (purveyors of metallic securities in gold, silver, copper, and lead).  For sample sheets of Metallic Certificates (total face value One Tenth Silver Dollar) send One Silver Dime plus a self-addressed stamped envelope; or Four United States Legal Tender Federal Reserve “Dollars” in scrip, check, or money order, to Greigh Area Associates, c/o Gene Greigh //  401 Rio Concho Drive, #105;  San Angelo, Texas;  76903

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Best in Show

21 November 2020

As an avid amateur actor, I have developed two things.  A hatred of stage make-up and an affinity for tribal traditions.  My “tribe” in this case is obviously the “dress up and make believe” crowd, and by extension, the professionals.  As a consequence, even though I never had a “dog in that fight” I enjoyed reflecting on the Oscars and the Emmys and the Tonys as they were handed out.  Of course, I never took any of it “seriously” because it is, by design, trivial fun.  However, as leftie zealots took the opportunity to hijack the events to bang their own drums, the show lost some luster.

By the time Sonny Corleomo picked up his Emmy, I was completely unimpressed.  It had devolved into an obvious insiders’ club generations ago, so I no longer nursed any illusions.  When the motion picture academy declined to give Ronald Reagan a lifetime achievement award, I thought that it was no oversight, just proper benign neglect.  While I have enormous respect for Ronald Reagan (as an ACTOR) I realize that his greatest artistic achievements took place on the small screen.  From guest appearances on Wagon Train and hosting Death Valley Days, to his magnum opus as “The President,” he touched millions of viewers with his skill, his poise, his humor, and his presence.  An award from the television industry would not have surprised me except for the obvious fact that most in the entertainment biz are spiteful commie twits.  Republicans aren’t much better, but at least they give superior lip-service to freedom.  When the Emmys declined to so honor such a fitting recipient, they surrendered the remains of their tattered credibility.

Which is why Sonny’s Emmy didn’t bother or surprise me. 
Actually, come to think of it, it’s kind of cool. Once again Sonny’s “accomplishments” eclipse Fredo’s fumbling attempts.

update 201226: My “conservative” friends, whom I often tease as leftie sympathizers, have as hard a time picturing me hanging out with other amateur actors, as “community players” have understanding my toleration of the “extreme” views of Evil Orange President. I don’t blame either group. I am an outlier almost everywhere I go. But as an actor… Well, it’s a good thing I’m so talented. Otherwise, this cadre of (generally) the leftiest, paisliest, patchouliest bunch of spiritual statists you could ever dread to encounter, wouldn’t have put up with my anarcho-materialist blasphemies.

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Caged Rats

2 November 2020  

Caged rats were used in studies to determine the efficacy and appeal of cocaine to a captive audience.  Subjects were confined and given a choice between instant gratification, or food, water, and isolation.  They tended to hit that cocaine bar until they died of exhaustion, dehydration, and/or starvation.  This “proved” (to some minds) that cocaine is much more powerful than food or water.

But these tests were conducted in rat prison, and not in rat skate park or rat retirement village or rat discotheque.  The rats’ choices were too severely constrained to give meaningful results about what a mind might choose given a variety of options.  The results don’t reveal anything meaningful about cocaine, but much about despair and loneliness.  It’s kinda like trying to divine the sexual preferences of young men by studying prisoners.  Somehow, NONE of them seem to select benign, wholesome, or enriching relationships of respect and mutual regard, but tend instead to confine their acts to celibacy, masturbation, or random rape in the showers. 

So what’s killing those rats, then, if it’s not cocaine?  They’re not choosing cocaine over food, fellowship, and freedom.  They’re choosing palliation over purposelessness.  Am I one of those rats?  Not quite.  I haven’t been captured and caged, per se.  My “isolation” is mainly voluntary.  I found it preferable to the prospect of eight hours of uninterrupted vertical waterboarding.  Unfortunately, and probably too late, I find that I do miss many of the social aspects of the job, in spite of the many much more annoying social and logistical aspects of any job.  I miss the good parts of the job as much as I miss the fellowship of my church (whether that’s my golf club, or my political party, or my local library, or amateur theatre, or even supernatural cult rituals.)  Many of the social and cultural phenomena that help to transform existence into living are now missing.

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The Chain Cent

20 November 2020

One of the earliest productions of the U.S.Mint, the “Chain Cent” would set you back several pretty pennies if you wanted to score one for yourself.  It enjoyed a relatively brief tenure among US coinage, less than a year, particularly as compared to our present Lincoln Cent’s century of endurance. 

Legend has it that many objected to the chain because it evokes chattel slavery.  That’s a plausible argument, but I doubt it was the prime cause.  While slavery was thought to be immoral and repugnant by many in the Eighteenth Century, such folk were in fact a minority, and often considered to be unfit for polite society.  Slavery was still the living heritage of history, sanctioned by faith and tradition and the natural human desire to not want to be seen as rocking the boat. 

Another obvious evocation of chains is political bondage, and many found that antithetical to still recent revolutionary and secessionist sentiments.  Whatever the whole truth may be, now obscured by centuries, the design never saw another year. 

And that was fitting.

The chain, intended to represent “indivisibility,” was never supported by the literal confederate language of the Constitution, and is, in fact, undermined by the Tenth Amendment (and by ratification language from various State legislatures). It certainly is a cool specimen, but as a matter of policy for the official mint of what Mr Lincoln USED TO call The Grand Confederacy, the chain had to go.

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Deep State Suppression, Excessive Snivelry

“…. if it weren’t for Negan, we’d just have anarchy!”

29 November 2019 — “Lefty Moms” Please try to conceal your deep misandry from your young sons. “Mommy hates men” equals “Mommy hates me” which often equals “I hate me” which leads to young men poisoning themselves with pube-blockers, murdering their classmates, or mutilating themselves.

2 December 2019 — Anti-Semitism is abhorrent, revolting, stupid, and the natural consequence of demographics and human nature.
First, people conflate.  They attribute the characteristics of the sole example to the group.  Suppose my Granny were raped by a Romulan.  Should I assume therefore that all Romulans are rapists?  Bigots are eager to conflate.
Second, dumb people hate smart people.  “Don’t you get smart with me!  I will slap that smart mouth right off your face!”  Or murder your entire tribe.  It’s along that same continuum (albeit a little extreme) of resentment and revulsion for light, clarity, and coherence.
Finally, Jews (on average) are smarter than everybody else.  Therefore, dumb people, who are the majority, hate Jews the most.  And they conflate, so they like to pretend it’s because the Jews killed the Christ.

reposted from WorkkSeitt™ discourse, 24 May 2020 — Memorial Day is a painful reminder of the heavy personal cost of the Occupation’s aggressive and destructive foreign policy.  I mourn the victims who have died to enrich the Military Industrial Complex.  Pax, Peace, Salaam, and Shalom! correspondent AG writes:  Memorial Day is a bad day for me.  All my battle buddies I have lost thank you.

30 May 2020 — Can we expect Madeleine (“Worth it”) Albright to endorse Jo Jorgensen’s vagina for the Presidency as she did Hillary (“Lady MacBubba“) Clinton’s in 2016?  (And maybe, albeit quietly, Governor Palin’s pudendum in 2008?) Or is she resigned to spending an eternity in that special Circle of Hell, to which she referred in 2016, that is reserved for those vaginal voters who will not support female candidates?  update 200822: Unless Madame Secretary is already resigned to spending an eternity in hell for her murder of thousands of children?

2 June 2020  — With his threats to “Send in the Military” to various riot zones throughout the Union, sans invitations from the States, Donald Trump risks going from perhaps the least bad President since Jimmy Carter to maybe the worst since Abe Lincoln. update 200622: If he doesn’t stop killing Yemeni children soon, I may have to fall back from my present assessment to “least bad since Reagan.” I dread his contesting the Bushbamatons for bloodthirst.

13 June 2020  — For being such a pointless and meaningless expression, “Defund the Police” is unnecessarily potent and provocative in many quarters, and lends itself to the most outlandish nihilistic scenarios.   
But what does it mean?  I’m all for defunding Narco and Vice and no knock raids and BATFire and Zoning and, well… basically anything that gets in the face of peaceful people going about their own business.  Otherwise, as long as bad people keep trying to hurt the innocent, we’re going to want some kind of insurance against injury.  In a free market, GetLife™ and TheHardCorps™ will find it’s more profitable to protect their clients than to pay them off, and no one will find it profitable to beat up pot heads and prostitutes.

“Heroic Art” (15 August 2020) If it’s a contest then the Soviets have been the reigning champs for decades. The Nazis were also good, as well as our own FedGov. Collectivist propaganda in general is the best! The practice is horrific, of course, but the artwork is magnificent. I guess it works that way in most media. Janis Ian’s compositions were much better (she’s still great!) before she realized she was a lesbian and decided to stop torturing herself. As a not yet professional novelist I have to wonder. Am I prepared to suffer enough to actually be any good at what I do?

8 November 2020  — To Republicans whining about “Suppression Polls” discouraging you from voting: Fuck you very much. I’ve been voting for Losertarians since 1976, and not a single poll suggested that my candidate would win. It did not stop me from voting anyway because, one, I’m not a Demoblican wimp, and, two, I never voted to impress pollsters anyway. Nor am I about to waste any sympathy on anyone who would let notorious liars dictate his choices. Maybe you lost. Maybe they cheated. Focus on those details but spare us the whining about alleged “suppression” before the fact. Libertutionists and Constitarians have [taken it up the ass] too long to [cry over your butthurt].