Instapun*** Archive Listing

Archive Listing
September 24, 2009 - September 17, 2009

Tuesday, June 03, 2008

France is Done.

How soon will our 'progressives' exhume Marilyn Monroe
to burn her at the stake? For one damn reason or another.
Crimes against Green, or Feminism, or Trans-Racialism?

LOOK IT ALL UP, CHUMPS. There was once a nation called France, which believed that life was to be lived through all the senses even as they created some of the greatest works of architectural engineering and artistry in the world, in addition to their skeptical philosophies, mind-expanding conceptual painting, and deathlessly sensual poetry. We can still admire them for their gift of the Statue of Liberty; the western masterpice called Paris; the technological aspiration represented by the Eiffel Tower; the wineries of Champagne and Bordeaux; the precociously decadent music of Debussy, Satie, and Piaf; the scientific contributions of Pasteur, Lamarck, and Descartes; writers like Voltaire, Rousseau, Rimbaud, Moliere, Hugo, and Dumas; the mechanical esprit of Bugatti, Delahaye, and Turbo Lago; and the nudes of Degas, Renoir, Manet, Rodin, and French cinema.

Now it turns out that the thousand-year duel between French Catholic faith and cynical French ennui has finally been decided. Robespierre and Vichy trump Napoleon and de Gaulle. Foucault trumps Joan of Arc. The EU trumps Voltaire. And De Sade trumps Bastiat. What's left is grinding, defeatist, even enthusiastic submission to barbarism. A truly French icon is now to be offered up on the altar of cowardly sacrifice.

Former screen siren Bardot convicted in race case

Brigitte Bardot was convicted Tuesday of provoking discrimination and racial hatred for writing that Muslims are destroying France.

A Paris court also handed down a $23,325 fine against the former screen siren and animal rights campaigner. The court also ordered Bardot to pay $1,555 in damages to MRAP.

Bardot's lawyer, Francois-Xavier Kelidjian, said he would talk to her about the possibility of an appeal.

A leading French anti-racism group known as MRAP filed a lawsuit last year over a letter she sent to then-Interior Minister Nicolas Sarkozy. The remarks were published in her foundation's quarterly journal.

In the December 2006 letter to Sarkozy, now the president, Bardot said France is "tired of being led by the nose by this population that is destroying us, destroying our country by imposing its acts."

Bardot, 73, was referring to the Muslim feast of Aid el-Kebir, celebrated by slaughtering sheep.

French anti-racism laws prevent inciting hatred and discrimination on racial or religious or racial grounds. Bardot had been convicted four times previously for inciting racial hatred.

"She is tired of this type of proceedings," he said. "She has the impression that people want to silence her. She will not be silenced in her defense of animal rights."

It's rare that the best case for a nation can be made without words, especially when that nation has produced some of the greatest users of words in recorded history. But here's a brief (very) sample. [To be added later if I still feel like it: IP readers who don't think graphics are 'silly' can register their votes in the comments. HINT: The Talbot Lago is the automotive equivalent of Bardot. Still, I'd hate to disturb the 7-minute frosting of hope Mal is living on these days.] And here's a look at the iconic woman France is now throwing under the bus along with its own heritage as a civilized nation.

"Il faut cultiver notre jardin." Sexy idea for Brigitte.
Inconvenient anti-Islamic truth for La France Perdue.

Put them all in haute-couture burkhas.

They'll all look the same then. Just like the rest of the European zombies.

P.S. I couldn't resist. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the Talbot Lago.

And, what the hell, a Delahaye too.

How are the mighty fallen.

Sunday, June 01, 2008

Obama Decides on a New Church

XOFF NEWS. After days of in-depth research, the Obama campaign has selected a new church affiliation for the candidate that is expected to boost his popularity in Democrat constituencies where he has been weak.

"We didn't want to depart too strongly from the kind of tradition Senator Obama has been used to -- a vigorous, enthusiastic, pentecostally joyous congregation whose devout beliefs reflect working class concerns and backgrounds," explained campaign spokesman George Axelrod. "At the same time we wanted to take the opportunity to do some outreach and create a new bond between the Senator and typical white people from embarrass--, uh, embattled states like Kentucky and West Virginia."

These criteria led to the choice of a Pentecostal Baptist Church in Jolo, West Virginia. In announcing his decision, the Senator said, "Michelle, the kids, and I are truly looking forward to next Sunday's service, and I feel sure that the majority of hard-working white Americans will soon see that whatever our religious differences may have been before, they are now a thing of the past. Jolo Baptist is probably exactly like the church next door to all of you who don't live in California, New England, or Chicago."

The tornadoes that struck large parts of the nation yesterday are believed to have been caused by a collective sigh of relief from the Democratic National Committee.

Here's a little more about Jolo.

If sanity is the measure, we're sure the Senator will feel right at home. Electorally, we'll just have to wait and see.

Friday, May 30, 2008

HOPE: The Approaching Singularity

A Vision of the Future worth getting excited about. At
some level it's even kind of understandable. And HOT!

THE FUTURE. Our loyal and beloved commenter Mal wants hope. Excuse me. Hope with a capital H, italicized and boldfaced. I'm not sure this qualifies but it might, and mights are what hope is all about. Everybody should tune in to Glenn Beck's TV show on Headline News tonight to hear Ray Kurzweill discuss the coming 'Singularity."

What's that? In Kurzweill's own words:

This, then, is the Singularity. The Singularity is technological change so rapid and so profound that it represents a rupture in the fabric of human history. Some would say that we cannot comprehend the Singularity, at least with our current level of understanding, and that it is impossible, therefore, to look past its "event horizon" and make sense of what lies beyond.

My view is that despite our profound limitations of thought, constrained as we are today to a mere hundred trillion interneuronal connections in our biological brains, we nonetheless have sufficient powers of abstraction to make meaningful statements about the nature of life after the Singularity. Most importantly, it is my view that the intelligence that will emerge will continue to represent the human civilization, which is already a human-machine civilization. This will be the next step in evolution, the next high level paradigm shift.

Kurzweill is an optimist. He thinks it's all going to work out for the best. By 2025, we won't be able to recognize the civilization we're living in viewed from the standpoint of today. Which means that all the issues which seem so critical and dark right now will probably be wholly irrelevant. YAY! He foresees, in the very near future, human beings who are trillions of times more intelligent than we are.

Consider a few examples of the implications. The bulk of our experiences will shift from real reality to virtual reality. Most of the intelligence of our civilization will ultimately be nonbiological, which by the end of this century will be trillions of trillions of times more powerful than human intelligence. However, to address often expressed concerns, this does not imply the end of biological intelligence, even if thrown from its perch of evolutionary superiority. Moreover, it is important to note that the nonbiological forms will be derivative of biological design. In other words, our civilization will remain human, indeed in many ways more exemplary of what we regard as human than it is today, although our understanding of the term will move beyond its strictly biological origins.

Many observers have nonetheless expressed alarm at the emergence of forms of nonbiological intelligence superior to human intelligence. The potential to augment our own intelligence through intimate connection with other thinking mediums does not necessarily alleviate the concern, as some people have expressed the wish to remain "unenhanced" while at the same time keeping their place at the top of the intellectual food chain. My view is that the likely outcome is that on the one hand, from the perspective of biological humanity, these superhuman intelligences will appear to be their transcendent servants, satisfying their needs and desires. On the other hand, fulfilling the wishes of a revered biological legacy will occupy only a trivial portion of the intellectual power that the Singularity will bring.

Needless to say, the Singularity will transform all aspects of our lives, social, sexual, and economic...

Not only that. We're going to be richer than our wildest dreams. This is a quote from the first paragraph of the piece:

You will get $40 trillion just by reading this essay and understanding what it says.

Cool. There are some things I could do with $40 trillion. For one thing, I'd buy a new air-conditioner for my office. One that doesn't freeze up in July and August. (And on warm days in May.)

I also think the Singularity vastly simplifies the child rearing challenge. Just teach them to be honest, virtuous, adaptable, and good-humored. It looks like everything else will be taken care of.

Of course, this may be the kind of idea that's more acceptable to the old than the young. For example, I'd probably have felt threatened in my salad days at the prospect of being a trillion times dumber than the smart ones. It doesn't bother me anymore. Something I learned from dogs. After a childhood filled with scary-smart terriers and German Shepherds, I've come to realize that greyhounds -- who are truly deep-down dumb (something the rescue organizations don't promote nearly enough) -- are much much happier than the high IQ breeds like terriers, sheep dogs, retrievers, and standard poodles.

In fact, when the Singularity comes, I'm going to have myself remanufactured as an eternally four-year-old greyhound.

Me in my golden years. Which I expect to last till the sun burns out.
The ladies only laugh when you stick your nose into the Singularity.

It's going to be great. And for once I'm not even being ironic. Irony is totally lost on greyhounds.

A Tale of Two Rachels

We're so fearless we'll even jump into a catfight. Rich Rachael (left) and cool Rachel (right).

OUR FAVORITE ELOISE. Michelle Malkin, bless her heart, thinks symbols and images matter. Probably because she's an evil gook bitch. Here's the current dustup as reported by

Rachel Ray [sic] in Terror Scarf Scandal

The far-out space-nut bloggers win again! Rachel Ray [sic] Dunkin’ Donuts advert pulled after bloggers complain:

The US chain Dunkin’ Donuts has pulled an advert following complaints that the scarf worn by a celebrity chef offered symbolic support for Islamic extremism. The online advert for iced coffee featured the well-known US television chef Rachael Ray. She was wearing a black-and-white checked scarf around her neck that resembled a traditional Arab keffiyeh. This fashion choice incensed at least one prominent conservative blogger, who said it evoked extremist videos. The blogger called the garment “a regular adornment of Muslim terrorists appearing in beheading and hostage-taking videos”.

The blogger is Michelle Malkin. She says of the scarf scandal:

Left-wing bloggers responded with complete scorn, deliberate mischaracterizations of the debate, and then outrage when Dunkin’ Donuts commendably showed sensitivity to the concerns and pulled the ad.

What crap, I say. Now, this past winter, early spring, living in Warsaw, Poland as I do, just about every teenager I saw walking around wore this same scarf. I noted this to my wife, saying that the kids in Warsaw are dressing like Yasir Arrafat. She saw this, too, but said that this is the style nowadays. They don’t know who Arafat was, she said. I agree. Let the kids wear the “terror scarves.” Aparently [sic] our European betters are not afraid of the terror scarf.

Hey. Waterglass. Was this cool?

But if enough people do it, and most of those people think it's cool, it's basically okay, right? That's why we wrote this post back in March of 2006. And this update. And other closely related entries.

Actually, Waterglass, it does matter. Some things are so simple they lose their impact as soon as a talented intellect goes to work on them. The obviously insane becomes somehow defensible, dismissible, no big deal.

That's why we continue to love the OTHER Rachel. The simplistic, all-cards-on-the-table, ditzy one. She knows what she thinks. Halleluiah! (Yeah, she's disregarded our ecxcellent advice about slimming down her ridgeback, but we're pretty sure she's at least mulling it over.)

For example, this is a Rachel who has written the best policy about reader comments I've ever seen on the Internet:

So: I said it in the comments and I’ll say it again: if you can’t make your argument without using insults and name-calling, then you need to shut the fuck up or take it to some other blog where they get off on that sort of behavior.

That goes for BOTH SIDES. Even if you agree with me that the won’t-vote-for-McCain folks have a bad plan, take a cue from me and refrain from calling those people whiny titty-babies or any variation thereof. They AREN’T whiny titty-babies, they are intelligent people who have made a decision based on what they think is right, and if that isn’t a good enough reason to afford them the respect of not calling them names, I don’t know what is. The plan is what I am attacking, not the people.

I’ve been doing this blog thing and reading other blogs for a long time, and there are a handful of reasons I sometimes stop reading other blogs even if I like the blogger. One of those reasons is when they let their comment sections turn into dirty fights. That repels me like almost nothing else and I simply won’t have it here on my own blog.

Also, it should go without saying since I’ve said it a hundred fucking times, but any comment that insults me or calls me any sort of unpleasant name WILL BE DELETED. I don’t give a flying turd if you want to explain how you disagree with me, which is so massively obvious if you’d just read all the other comments that very vehemently disagree with me, but I do give a flying turd about providing you the bandwidth to be an asshole to me on my own turf. This includes writing, “Rachel you’re full of shit,” or “I don’t give a shit what you think so bite me,” or “you are screeching spastically” and so on.

I don’t know how to be more clear about it: disagree all you want. Question my conclusions, my logic, my facts, whatever, but do it in a way that wouldn’t get you punched in the nuts by Rupert if you said it to my face in his presence.

There. Perfect. My guess is, she would know that Rachael Ray shouldn't be wearing a kaffiyeh to advertise an American commercial establishment and, if she did, should apologize for having done so. It's NOT complicated. It's common sense.

Like the way Rachel Lucas (the common sensical one) reacted to discovering that muslims hate dogs. She knew immediately that this was important information and probably fatal to any policy of peaceful coexistence between them (barbarians) and us (civilized people).

That's why I continue to have hope for America. Because we've got a good supply of Rachels who are better than what Waterglass calls our "our European betters." [Scoff]

We're big fans here at Instapunk, Rachel. But please do schedule an intervention for Sunny.

Now. As to the other Rachael. STOP IT. You're cute. But not THAT cute.

Thursday, May 29, 2008

Nothing New

He's got the wherewithal to scribble* a book-length manuscript. Who knew?

GETTING AHEAD. It's the job of the media, left and right, to pound this McClellan item for days. But it's not a story, just a postscript. We already said everything that needs to be said long ago. Before the administration belatedly fired this incompetent sack of shit, we wrote:

[November 2005] George W. Bush doesn't like to fire people. It's his greatest weakness. If he wants to prevail in his most important policies, however, it's time he overcame that weakness... [T]he first three heads that must fall: Dan Bartlett, Strategic Communications Planning; Scott McClellan, White House Press Secretary; and Nicolle Devenish, White House Communications Director.

These people assumed their current posts in the wake of the President's highly successful campaign for reelection. Since then, they have presided over one public relations debacle after another -- the needless Schiavo brouhaha, the incompetently presented Social Security reform initiative, the appalling failure to take credit for successes in Iraq or to counter the MSM's "Vietnam quagmire" fantasy, the Cindy Sheehan farce, the self-destructive Miers nomination, the Valerie Plame fiction, the cone of silence enforced while the Democrats screamed and shouted their "Bush lied" lie into every network microphone for months, and the feeble counterattack that led to the ridiculous playacting of John Murtha.

By any possible standard of competence in communications, these people are miserably and irredeemably inept. If they were merely obedient soldiers executing the instructions of the big boss, they should have resigned en masse long ere this in protest at being deprived of the opportunity to exercise their good judgment. If they actually concocted the communication plans that responded to the crises listed above, as seems more likely in the court of the Great Delegator, they should be drummed out of the profession -- hollow square, buttons ripped off, swords broken -- the works.

The one thing I can't understand is why more Republicans haven't demanded exactly this step. It may be difficult to see into the workings of Bartlett's and Devenish's jobs, but we see McClellan every day. The picture shown here is typical -- hands up in surrender. He is continually at a loss, defensive, borderline oafish, argumentative when he should be cool, placating when he should be predatory. His performance alone is enough to indict his communication superiors. He's minor league and even his surname is unpleasantly evocative of the blowhard general who was always piling up more resources for a battle he could never bring himself to fight. Get rid of him. NOW.

We also said everything worth saying about insider books:

[April 2007] There has been a constant stream of subversive, self-aggrandizing books by those whose whole power to serve the U.S. government resided in their capacity to listen and speak honestly to the President, whose confidence in their input rested largely on the knowledge that candid conversations about matters of state would not be spilled into the public trough.

Thanks to the likes of George Tenet, Colin Powell, David Frum, Richard Clarke, and God only knows how many other narcissistic crybabies, it will never again be possible for a president of the United States to converse with advisers without contemplating the self-serving books they will write, and publish, while he (or she) is still in office.

Sorry. I can't forget what everyone else -- and I do mean everyone -- has forgotten. The United States of America is the most powerful and benevolent nation the world has ever seen. The decisions that have to be made on behalf of our own ctizens and the world are frequently difficult, complex, morally contradictory, and nearly impossible to make. The leadership of no other nation in history has ever voluntarily confronted the murderous intentions of its rivals without permitting itself the option of annihilating them by any means possible. Thus, the much pilloried Bush adminsitration has continuously faced a situation without precedent in human history -- fanatical, mortal enemies bent on the destruction of the nation they serve, enemies who could be reduced to ash in approximately 60 minutes without significant risk of retaliation, but who will not be exterminated because we choose not to do so for moral reasons.

The question that must be asked is why this heroic moral choice should lead to the end of the most basic principles of loyalty, honor, and integrity by those who have been so privileged as to participate in the experiment.

The answer is apocalyptic. Such lofty expressions of merciful intent lead inevitably to the lowest, most venal reactions by those who detect the weakness inherent in mercy. They know they can get away with personal treachery to further their own interests.

George W. Bush's real weakness is that he is not Hitler, Napoleon, Stalin, Saddam, Castro, or Pol Pot. That he is far more like Portia than Caesar is a promise of doom. In the days of Octavian, Powell, Tenet, Clarke, and Frum would never have lived to write their whining memoirs about their superiority to those from whom they took their orders. And the citizens of the Republic would have been safer abroad as a result. But there will be no American Augustus to lay the groundwork for a second American Century. There will be, however, (count on it) an American Cleopatra, Tiberius, Caligula, and Nero, and an inevitable sacking of the capital of the world.

Rejoice, all you nihilists. Your fondest, deepest wish, the slashing of your self-hating throats by oppressed barabarians, is one step closer than it was yesterday. Happy?

That about does it. Nothing to add.

*What he did it with. It'll probably sell for thousands on eBay.
Unless it's subpoenaed by the Pelosi/Reid Congress first.

Rebutting Fairy Dust

[Begin at 8:30 in and listen as long as you can stand it.]

HAVE SOME OBAMA BEANS. Last night I had the privilege of attending a corporate function, a dinner honoring a high-tech business unit's employee anniversaries. I was there as a guest and had no personal knowledge of the people who were being celebrated for 15, 20, 25, 30, 35, and 40 years of service to their company. I did know the executive who emceed the rite of recognition. He's a 40-year-old man (a kid by my reckoning) engaged in a constant battle to apportion his time appropriately to his job, his family responsibilities, and his volunteer efforts for the working-class Catholic parish he was born into. Not for the first time, I found myself awed and humbled by his ability to excel at these overcommitments. During the past year, he has managed a painful reorganization (and RIF) of his workforce without losing their dedication or affection, seen his eldest daughter blossom into a devoted nursing student with a work-study schedule as consuming as his own, and acquired a fluency in Spanish that enables him to keep up with the changing demographics of the parishioners he helps in his "spare" time.

I know him to be, as well, a loyal lifelong Democrat. So as I watched him graciously honoring his company's employees for their longevity and individual achievements on the job, I couldn't help thinking about Obama's Wesleyan address. The ringing call to "public service" sounds good and even inspiring, but in the context of what I witnessed last night it is also ignorant, narrow-minded, and insulting to a huge percentage of the American populace, whether they choose to recognize the insult or not. Yes, it was a corporate function, but as I listened to the well crafted summaries of individual careers, accomplishments, and personal traits of the honorees, I saw -- even as an outsider -- that they hadn't given all those years to one organization because they were in thrall to Obama's contemptuously labeled "money culture." They had committed their lives to exacting and difficult disciplines they were good at, and along the way they had undertaken serious risks to accomplish goals they believed to be important. (In fact, by any objective standard, the goals were important, to all of us, but to say more might make it possible to identify them, and that I won't do.) Yet in our uniquely American way, the tributes to each person mingled memories of extraordinary brilliance and principle on the professional level with anecdotes about personal foibles and -- a constant thread -- all the other things they somehow managed to do for family, charities, and each other. Those in attendance understood all the nuances. They laughed, they applauded, they chimed in with their own approving comments, and they were respectfully silent when the weightiest accomplishments were being described. They were a community and, though I hate to utter a cliche that was repeated several times without irony or any expression of dissent, a family.

I'm not being saccharine. There are bad companies as well as good. There are corporations in which people are valued exclusively for cutthroat devotion to profit. But in my own personal experience I have observed that bad companies, like bad people, eventually get what's coming to them. And there are good companies that forget the need to make a profit and so expire at great personal cost to the people and families who depended on them. It's important to remember, though, that the historic success and affluence of America lies in the fact that so many companies of all sizes are very much like the one I'm telling you about. Unlike Wall Street money machines or Ivy League law firms, most corporate entities in America exist to provide goods and services that people need, want, or depend on without knowing how or why. And regardless of the profit motive built into the capitalist economic model -- the most successful economic model ever discovered -- the people who make it all work are in "public service" to a much greater degree than any not-for-profit example cited by Barack Obama at Wesleyan.

Where do you want the most talented mathematicians, chemists, engineers, biologists, computer jocks, and managers to spend their time? In a lifelong feel-good allegiance to some vast international Peace Corps, unloading sacks of U.N. flour in third-world nations? Or pushing themselves to wring every last drop of productivity out of the one supreme talent they were born with and educated to use?

Fairy dust is the illusion that we can fix everything if
everyone tries to do everything except succeed personally.

Last night I saw the America that Obama knows so little about he feels free to piss on it. And, yeah, it really does look something like this:

You don't know their faces. They won't be on TV or
in the White House. But you owe them everything.

For a while there, it made me mad at Obama, for his blindness, his arrogance, his half-baked experience of the country that's given him so much opportunity, his wife's pampered resentment of things no one should take for granted. But then I had a different thought. I realized that he is one of the clearest examples we have yet had of the emergence of an isolated aristocracy reminiscent of the Brits' class system. Eton, Harrow, Cambridge, Oxford, and ultimate divorcement from the vitality and creative accomplishments of real life. When they realized that their inbred, genetically damaged, and over-educated gang of dukes and earls and "honorable" untitled younger sons couldn't ever achieve anything of value, they consigned them to careers in politics.

Wouldn't you just love to see a like competition for
the Harvard Law School class of [fill in an apt year]?
Think Schumer, the SENIOR Senator from New York.

Clearly, it's been a civiization-destroying move for the Brits. But maybe, just maybe, Obama has hit on a better solution.

Perhaps Wesleyan grads should all join the Peace Corps. And take their Williams and Amherst chums with them. And the graduates of all the Ivy league colleges and graduate schools, and Stanford and Berkeley and Brandeis and the University of Chicago and everywhere else 1400 SAT scores guarantee colossal mis-education. Ship them overseas. Put them to work vaccinating famine victims against chlamydia. Teaching malaria-stricken tribes how to put condoms on bananas. Building mud-brick government offices for the distribution of welfare checks people could cash if they ever learned how to write their names. Would it do any good? Yes. It would keep the fairy-dust fanatics away from the rest of us.

All that's left is convincing Obama to go with them. Overseas. To right all the wrongs of a world he hasn't taken even the first step toward understanding.

What's that he's dusting off his shoulder? Nah. Not the fairy dust.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Here come the Seventies.

The fashions alone will probably kill us.

PSAYINGS.5A.19. All the kiddies are saying they want CHANGE. Of course, there's nothing new under the sun, and the would-be agents of change are usually trying to turn the clock back to a time they liked better. For example, this site has already had occasion to warn you about the nature of the change promised by the Hillary campaign when it was still riding high and not in fear of Obama. Part of Hillary's fall from grace is no doubt due to the large number of people who still remember the so-called "Golden Age" of the Clintons. Thus, the Democrat electorate has decided to look even further back in time -- to the Seventies -- which are being recreated for us at frightening speed by the power of mass nostalgia.

No, dears, it's not just the cyclical nature of world events. It's the fulfillment of a deep subconscious yearning of long standing by the Democrat power structure. They're obsessed with returning to the days before the Reagan Revolution, when they owned the presidency and overwhelming control of both houses of Congress. The last time that state of affairs existed was in the Carter administration. Note how many current circumstances reflect the conditions that were either immediate precursors of Carter's election or concomitant with his presidency:

1. The rash, irrational, and self-destructive determination by a head-in-the-sand Democrat Congress to defund a vulnerable ally we had spent much military blood and treasure supporting as part of a global foreign policy strategy. (THEN: S. Vietnam; NOW: Iraq.)

The Fall of Saigon. The Pelosi/Obama Vision of Departing the Green Zone.

2. The refusal to deal with a crisis in energy supplies -- and consequent runaway pricing -- by authorizing more nuclear plants and freeing the hated oil companies to develop new domestic sources of petroleum and more domestic refinery capacity. (THEN: The preferred socialist solution, a "windfall profits tax" that raised gas prices higher while all nuclear plant projects were stopped in their tracks. NOW: The preferred solution, a windfall profits tax that will raise gas prices even higher while still prohibiting domestic drilling, refinery expansion, and new nuclear plants in favor of the food-destroying ethanol boondoggle and various windmill/solar/hydrogen/Learjets-for-the-rich "alternative" approaches that will punish the poor for the purpose of "saving" a planet which is more-or-less impervious to our existence.)

1979 GAS LINES. A good thing we ousted the Shah
and ushered in the age of Ayatollah Khomeini and a
far more stable & devout muslim leadership in Iran.
Everything's been so much cooler ever since, right?

How we were taught to think of it. Of course, nobody took
a big toothy bite out of the cooling tower and nobody died.
Except for the American troops who have had to keep the
mideast oil flowing to electrify your nasty air-conditioners.

3. A Democrat "change strategy" for the future based on lowered expectations, draconian dis-incentives for consumption and economic growth, and a concerted effort to blame the capitalist system and ordinary Americans for the leadership's impoverished vision of the future. (THEN: Carter's "malaise" speech. "NOW: Obama's "we can't eat all we want" speech.)

Yes, we really can have it all back again -- the whole
liberating idea that what really REALLY sucks isn't
the Democrat in charge but US. READY, SET, GO...

Change is gonna be so goddam great, ain't it?

4. A weak economy created by Democrat market interventions and non-productive tax-the-rich schemes in the name of "social justice," whose destructive effects are nevertheless blamed on everyone and everything but socialist Dem policies. (THEN: the inflationary effect of ballooning Democrat entitlements cut loose from government budgeting authority -- Medicare, Medicaid, and a raft of "Great Society" giveaway programs. NOW: The collapse of the housing market and real estate equity created by Democrat programs designed to pressure private lenders into writing mortgages for people who couldn't qualify for them, plus the reckless insistence on adding still another socialistic and ungovernable entitlement, "Universal Health Care.")

The Misery Index. Just gotta love those Carter Seventies. Of course, we've done what
Wikipedia won't do: highlight the later rather than the higher or average index number.

5. A de facto -- and grossly hypocritical -- "Two Americas" approach for transferring the costs of Dem-created shortages and environmental impacts to ordinary Americans who are supposed to be grateful for government controls spun as egalitarian reforms. (THEN: the passage of CAFE standards which led to the manufacture of unsafe automotive junk called Pintos, Vegas, Mavericks, Chevettes, Pacers, and Gremlins for folks who could no longer afford to gas up Cadillacs and Corvettes. NOW: a nonstop propaganda campaign against SUVs and trucks, plus a renewed legislative push for stricter CAFE standards designed to push those who can't afford big Benzes and Bimmers into brand new high-tech, unsafe automotive junk that will get them killed saving 10 percent more gas.)

Less is more.

Even if it's a lot less.

And possibly fatal.

Like with this little "green" hottie for us masses.

But we've already acknowledged how cute
and virtuously dickless the little darling is.

6. A truly perverse (and, yes, absolutely unpatriotic) ongoing effort to reduce, marginalize and even criminalize the military so that it cannot be used in future to impress America's supposedly corrupt will on the superior barbarians who hate us. (THEN: a post-Vietnam military so politicized, under-funded, and demoralized that it failed humiliatingly to rescue 52 hostages in the FIRST Iran crisis. NOW: The vaunted Obama's stated policy of disarming American nuclear capability and destroying the greatest military force in recorded human history by decreeing surrender and abject withdrawal from a war already won under almost impossible and absolutely unprecedented political constraints.)

Carter's Iran Rescue Mission. It'll be so gratifying to get back
to THIS level of competence by the U.S. Military, won't it? Eh?

Yes, we're ramping up for the big throwback. Kids who have always had everything they could possibly want are bound to just love the hell out of being told they're selfish little pigs who need to be punished. (SQUEAL! The new metrosexuality!) I'm not going to try to disabuse them of the joy the return of the Seventies will bring them in that respect. They're probably even too sunk in their bored ADDS stupor to realize just how fatal the new double-nickel speed limit will be to people who have a hard time staying awake despite the simultaneous inputs of iPods, iPhones, and MySpace transactions. That argument will have to wait for the grim new statistics about how many indispensable "Millennial Generation" centers of the universe have been scraped off the nation's roads after falling asleep at the wheel on highways designed for 70 mph cruising.

But what I can do is offer a glimpse of the sartorial hell that went -- and undoubtedly will go -- with the Neo-Seventies Obama Era. Actually, I can do that with a single link.

I can also offer them an anthem (ref. audio file). Maybe they can figure out some way to rap/remix/alternalize it.

They better. Or we're all completely screwed.

[Private message to Brizoni]

REAL TYPING. Nobody else pay any attention to this. The apprentice is in pain. The Boss is obligated to help.

This (above) is an exact replica of the machine 'Kinesis' was first typed on. Nobody hates typewriters more than I do. (Nobody!) I'm not even going to say it's good for you. It isn't. Typewriters are responsible for more bad writing than any invention since the ball-point pen. Just hang in there.

There's a poem that sometimes helps some poeple. (Well, not usually.) But it's all I can come up with.

The Wanderer

Often the lone-dweller waits for favor,
mercy of the Measurer, though he unhappy
across the seaways long time must
stir with his hands the rime-cold sea,
tread exile-tracks. Fate is established!

So the earth-stepper spoke, mindful of hardships,
of fierce slaughter, the fall of kin:
Oft must I, alone, the hour before dawn
lament my care. Among the living
none now remains to whom I dare
my inmost thought clearly reveal.
I know it for truth: it is in a warrior
noble strength to bind fast his spirit,
guard his wealth-chamber, think what he will.
Weary mind never withstands fate,
nor does troubled thought bring help.
Therefore, glory-seekers oft bind fast
in breast-chamber a dreary mind.
So must I my heart--
often wretched with cares, deprived of homeland,
far from kin--fasten with fetters,
since long ago earth covered
my lord in darkness, and I, wretched,
thence, mad and desolate as winter,
over the wave's binding sought, hall-dreary,
a giver of treasure, where far or near
I might find one who in mead-hall
might accept my affection, or on me, friendless,
might wish consolation, offer me joy.
He knows who tries it how cruel is sorrow,
a bitter companion, to the one who has few
concealers of secrets, beloved friends.
The exile-track claims him, not twisted gold,
his soul-chamber frozen, not fold's renown.
He remembers hall-warriors and treasure-taking,
how among youth his gold-friend
received him at the feast. Joy has all perished!
So he knows, who must of his lord-friend,
of loved one, lore-sayings long time forgo.

When sorrow and sleep at once together
a wretched lone-dweller often bind,
it seems in his mind that he his man-lord
clasps and kisses, and on knee lays
hands and head, as when sometimes before
in yore-days he received gifts from the gift-throne.
When the friendless man awakens again,
he sees before him fallow waves,
sea-birds bathing, wings spreading,
rime and snow falling mingled with hail.
Then are the heart's wounds ever more heavy,
sore after sweet--sorrow is renewed--
when memory of kin turns through the mind;
he greets with glee-staves, eagerly surveys
companions of men. Again they swim away!
Spirits of seafarers bring but seldom
known speech and song. Care is renewed
to the one who frequently sends
over the wave's binding, weary, his thought.

Therefore, I know not, throughout this world,
why thought in my mind does not grow dark
when the life of men I fully think through,
how they suddenly abandoned the hall,
headstrong retainers. This Middle-Earth
each of all days so fails and falls
that a man gains no wisdom before he is dealt
his winters in the world. The wise man is patient,
not too hot-hearted, nor too quick tongued,
nor a warrior too weak, nor too foolhardy,
neither frightened nor fain, nor yet too wealth-greedy,
nor ever of boasts too eager, before he knows enough.
A warrior should wait when he speaks a vow,
until, bold in mind, he clearly knows
whither mind's thought after will turn.
A wise man perceives how ghastly it will be
when all this world's weal desolate stands,
as now here and there across this Middle-Earth
blown on by wind walls stand
covered with rime, the buildings storm-shaken.
The wine-halls molder, the wielder lies down
deprived of rejoicing, warband all fallen,
proud by the wall. Some war took utterly,
carried on forth-way; one a bird bore off
over the high holm; one the hoar wolf
dealt over to death, one a warrior,
drear-faced, hid in an earth-cave.
Thus the Shaper of men destroyed this earth-yard,
until, lacking the cries, the revels of men,
old giants' work stood worthless.

When he with wise mind this wall-stone
and this dark life deeply thinks through,
the wise one in mind oft remembers afar
many a carnage, and this word he speaks:
Where is the horse? Where the young warrior?
Where now the gift-giver?
Where are the feast-seats? Where all the hall-joys?
Alas for the bright cup! Alas byrnied warrior.
Alas the lord's glory! How this time hastens,
grows dark under night-helm, as it were not!
Stands now behind the dear warband
a wondrous high wall, varied with snake-shapes,
warriors fortaken by might of the ash-spears,
corpse-hungry weapons--famous that fate--
and this stone-cliff storms dash on;
snowstorm, attacking, binds all the ground,
tumult of winter, when the dark one comes,
night-shadow blackens, sends from the north
rough hailstorm in anger toward men.
All is the earth-realm laden with hardship,
fate of creation turns world under heaven.
Here goldhoard passes, here friendship passes,
here mankind passes, here kinsman passes:
all does this earth-frame turn worthless!
So said the one wise in mind, at secret conclaves sat him apart.
Good, he who keeps faith, nor too quickly his grief
from his breast makes known, except he, noble, knows how beforehand
to do cure with courage. Well will it be
to him who seeks favor, refuge and comfort,
from the Father in heaven, where all fastness stands.

Yes, it's sad, and even sorrowful, and tragic, and moving, and immersed in searing desolation. But it can't compare with the agony of the man who has lost his computer, and must now bleed his soul's blood onto lined paper, with mechanical keys, or even a Bic pen. Yea, the path is dark, and it is my own dim memory I quote, when I repeat these dread lines:

[T]he wise one in mind oft remembers afar
many a carnage, and this word he speaks:
Where is the horse? Where the young warrior?

Where? Up shit creek. That's where.

I couldn't be more sympathetic. Not without a flagon of Colt .45 mead anyway.

Uh, get back to work. Wandering is for post-modern silly-asses.

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