Forgive the impertinence, and my
chronology might be a bit off, but were you in the correct age range
for Vietnam? I know, I know. The answer is buried in the trackbacks and
anathema sit upon my head for not checking. S-2 deferment, I'm thinking.
On a side note, the great author and WW2
Veteran Paul Fussell died on May 23rd. R.I.P.
God bless those Jews by the way; they
only make up 2/10ths of 1% of the American Military, but man do they
make some swinging music.
Enough figures in there to make any argument you want to about anyone.
Including the fact that white first-string football players from
Cincinnati join the military, uh, almost never. Yeah, we could talk nths of
one percent for hale and hearty white boys, too, Joe.
But it's important to beat up on the Jews, isn't it, Joe? They're so
awful. They have the unconscionable nerve to be smarter, better
educated, and more accomplished than you. I've compiled some
statistics, so I'm going to cite them even though they mean nothing.
Twelve Jews in the NFL, out of 1500 players. Two Jews in the NBA, out
of 500 (And who hasn't seen the little balding Jew who's obsessed with
the NBA and spends all his time organizing pickup games at the YMHA?
Please.) Do the math. Nearly six million Jews in the U.S., seven
million in Israel, and every adolescent Jew in Israel is required to
provide military service. So Jews are cowards? Hardly. U.S. Jews are
cowards? Not so fast. Maybe they're the ones who have something else to
I know what that something else is. Sorry to burst anybody's tribal
bubble. But the good news is that American exceptionalism isn't a
highbrow conceptual myth. It's the reality that's going to save our
I've written about this before. But you never understood it as anything
but travel advice. Europeans hate
each other. Hate everything about each other. Cars, faces, languages,
histories, personalities. Why the European Union was always doomed. Why
the whole world is doomed. Every African country hates every other.
Every South-American nation hates every other because everyone's a
native and a Spaniard or a Portuguese, and who should we kill(?),
although be damned sure we'll kill somebody and everybody in
perpetuity. Every Asian nation hates every other, and it's racial. Japanese hate Korean and
Chinese and Indochinese, and every other Asian race hates the
Japanese because they're rich, can grow bushy beards, and are almost as
cruel as Koreans. And absolutely everybody everywhere hates the
Indians. They smell worse than everybody but Arabs, they both have
totally fucked religions, and the way they are about about money makes
Jews look generous. How bad can it get?
Or how good can it get get? The multicultural delusion. Let's take a
subset. The United Kingdom plus free Ireland. They've all been hating
each other for centuries. Who's they? England, Scotland, Wales,
Ireland, Northern Ireland, plus Isle of Man and other bullshit domains
like, say, the half a billion people of India till 1949.
The whole U.K. is smaller than California. Immaterial. What's material
is that the U.S. constitution, rule of law, and/or our melting pot
culture -- whatever you credit given your stupid misunderstandings of
history and political philosophy -- have resulted in a place where no
single tribe gets to rule. That's the exception. Everywhere else one
tribe does ultimately rule. What they're duelling about in the E.U.
right now. The French? The Germans? The Flems? The Brits? Oh,
that's right. The same people who always did run the show after the Golden Age
of Colonial Imperialism none of the losers of that age will ever EVER forget.
All doomed. Awful. End of human race.
Shit. Then there's America. Where people still hate each other for the
tiniest differences, but not really so much. Where the really evil,
soul-destroying economic system called capitalism encourages (gasp)
people to work with another even if they don't go to each other's
weddings. And Irish cops go to Greek diners and Italians run as many
restaurants and strip bars as they do major corporations, and women of
every oppressed ethnicity (all) become media network tycoons, and Jews
-- run out of every nation on earth -- become the fathers of what every
nation calls the best movies, music, and concert entertainment on earth,
and a black race given respect nowhere else drives three successive
waves of music across the whole fucking benighted planet, not to mention a sport (thankfully!) better than, uh, soccer.
Know what? I really am tired. I have prep-school and Ivy League friends
who sneer at American exceptionalism. I have gun-toting righty friends
who think that what is uniquely American cannot possibly survive for
another season because of them. Or us.
I only keep coming back because I know better.The American Jews are
here -- no conspiracy, just extremism being its own reward -- because
they feel that this melting
pot really is unique in human history. All the tribes -- meaning every
other so-called nation in history -- are reduced to jokes in the great
American pot. Maybe they do
want to run the pot and set its boiling point, but God has punchlines of his
own. He can chasten his Chosen. No, you can't all go to Harvard. Quotas
work both ways. Learn more about your precious law. Really bad people
can and will kill you. Sorry. Take it from me, God. I have said this.
And if you forget your roots and where and what you came from, Persia
can ABSOLUTELY fucking kill you all.
But that's why the Jews in America can also learn a lesson, that they
have the rest of us -- somebody please fill in all the hundred
immigrant nationalities I can't think of right now -- to prove the
biggest American point of all. STOP looking for the smartest guy in the
room. uh, he ain't what the doctor ordered. WE're the smartest guy in the room, maybe the world, and some of us live in trailer parks. Sorry to break it to you. Sholom
Friday, May 25, 2012
MOUTH. I'm thinking about a lot of things this weekend. I'm thinking people
are tired of war and they want it all to be over. If only it were
that simple. Two more wars we're not allowed to win because the president would rather not. I'm thinking of a commander-in-chief who has said in
the last week or so that American troops are "fighting on my
behalf," which sickens me. They are fighting for us and the ideas that unite us.
Enough said. (Although I will provide a relevant link to a
president who knew better.)
Memorial Day is the official beginning of summer, regardless of what
the calendar says. We do cookouts, picnics, fun stuff. Asking people
to think of the battlefield dead and cemeteries laid out in neat
rows of headstones and flags is perhaps too much to ask. Or if not
too much to ask, too much to expect. So I'm taking a different tack
this year. I'm asking you to think not of cemeteries but of life. I
have a particular touchstone in mind -- Aaron Copland.
He's regarded as the father of archetypally American classical
Gershwin should get equal laurels in this regard. Jews both of
them. Which I mention only because I'm also thinking in this year
of all years how close our country is coming to abandoning a sacred
trust -- black muslims and Paulistas may now reach across the pews
to shake hands and wish each other peace -- that maybe only the
veterans among us truly understand because the words involved are
"sacred" and "trust." Unless most of the rest of us Americans also
know and are just pretending that it's okay to pay no attention
while the storm clouds gather over Israel and our government shames us
daily even as our most privileged
universities begin to resemble the S.S.
But forget all that for now. We have burgers to barbecue and
softball games to play. That's what I'm asking us all to think of
this weekend. The life that slain soldiers, sailors, airmen, and
marines never got to live because they died for a conception of
freedom we seem increasingly anxious to surrender for government
handouts. Sorry. I shouldn't be political on this solemn occasion.
Forget politics. Here's what I'm thinking, rendered in music:
Copland was born in Brooklyn. Unlike many classical musicians he had
that elusive "common touch." His music sounds distinctly American.
Appalachian Spring. Billy the Kid.
a short piece I'd like you all to keep hearing in your heads all
weekend. Fanfare for the Common Man.
(I picked this file for the
sound quality, not the Gaian visuals.)
Use it as your soundtrack when you fire up the grill. And think of
all the other common men who aren't firing up the grill this
weekend. Because they gave their lives so you could.
No, it's not a bummer. It's what they chose as a fair risk to take. Just be grateful.
And add an extra smile to the wife and kids for them. Because
whatever ticks you off this weekend wouldn't bother them at all.
They'd much rather be here than not.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
I've been told I'm
too abrupt. Sorry about that.
AGAIN. There's nothing worse than having to explain humor or its
value. Attempting to tell people who are not laughing why something is
funny is a doomed proposition. It murders the surprise and spontaneity
that humor is. But that's the position you've put me in.
Now I have to make a serious argument about humor. Makes my skin crawl.
I cited the Animal House clip I did because it was (ugh) relevant. It's
the moment when the utterly defeated rise up in the face of
overwhelming odds and "take up arms against a sea of troubles." (Yeah,
Shakespeare knew about humor too.)
Of course I enjoyed your reminiscences about funny and sort of funny
movies you've seen at some point. But this time I wasn't really trying
to construct a list of Top Ten, well, anything. I was trying to sink a
harpoon into your funnybones.
There are very real reasons to quit pissing and moaning and start
feeling hopeful again. Why? Because there are multitudinous signs that
Americans, the real ones that is, not the insufferable MSM
intelligentsia, are starting to laugh at the whole Obama reelection
act. For the moment they're laughing up their sleeves. But the
humor is seething and bubbling under the surface, destined to break out
into some loud guffaws after just a few more of the lefties's deadpan
jokes on themselves.
Thing is, we're at a tipping point. And you'll miss it altogether if
you don't get your minds right.
I'm not going to give you links. Maybe I should but I just won't,
because you really need to do some homework. To get your minds right.
Or maybe I'm just lazy. If so, I'm not the only one. Hint. Hint.
I will aim you at the right punchlines. If you can't find the laughs,
not my problem.
Rush Limbaugh pointed out yesterday that only now, only NOW, have the
Republican insiders realized that Obama could actually lose this
election. The MSM are just getting their first intimations that his
reelection isn't assured. If you don't find this hilarious, you believe
the MSM as much as the most devout lefties do and are just looking for
reasons to curl up into a fetal position and surrender.
In recent Democratic primaries, The One is struggling to reach 60
percent of the vote against, uh, Nobody. In West Virginia, a prisoner
in Texas got about 40 percent of the vote. In Arkansas, a lawyer who
has raised $2000 in campaign contributions got about 40 percent of the
vote. In Kentucky, "Uncommitted" got 40 percent of the vote. So the
Washington Post did an article suggesting that the part of the
Democratic base which voted against him is racist. Who does that help? Obama?
Hardly. Don't come out to vote for our guy and you're a racist? That's
supposed to encourage turnout? And don't forget that the 40 percent who
voted against him could have stayed home. No. They got in their cars,
drove to the polling place to vote in the Democratic primary, and they
voted against Obama. AND it's not reported anywhere in the MSM as an
incredibly significant danger signal for the president. It's the
silence that's so absurd. A huge joke welling under the surface of a
reality they dare not acknowledge.
I know I've criticized the Breitbart "Big" sites because they seem to
consist of abbreviated posts of the sort Huffington is famous for. I
wish they'd do more, but the one thing they're doing no one else on the
right is doing is pointing up absurdity after absurdity after
absurdity. They're demonstrating to us that the MSM has been reduced to
a total joke, with virtually no exceptions. SNL comedian Jon Lovitz
calls Obama a fucking liar and not only does he not recant, he doubles
and triples down and claims his frightened friends agree with him, even
as he starts getting new job offers... Breitbart discovers that the
real source of the confusion surrounding Obama's birthplace may have
originated with Obama himself, and then delights in the slam dunk of
proving that MSM reporting of the story does not include any of the
facts in the story they reported, only the trope that "Birthers Are at
it Again." Breitbart editor John Nolte is obsessively reporting on the
ratings of supposedly influential lefty television propaganda like Jon
Stewart, Stephen Colbert, and the whole CNN network, which are
abysmally in the tank, losing to Pawn Stars and maybe Toddlers &
Tiaras, and it's possible he has single-handedly driven NBC's "30 Rock"
off the air by highlighting the discrepancy between miserable ratings
and the MSM's adulatory coverage of its charming sophistication.
Meanwhile, Fox News and Hotair dutifully report on the latest polls
showing Obama clinging to a lead over Romney. Why? Because they're
trying to play it straight, fair and balanced don't you know, when
the details (er, crosstabs) show that the polls are all skewed to overrepresent
Democrats and underrepresent Republicans. Which the pretenders to MSM
legitimacy can't bring themselves to denounce in headlines, only final,
It's funny. Because it's all happening at one huge hop-skip-and-a-jump away
from reality, which nobody can say out loud because there's reality
and there's MSM reality, two utterly different things that are as
dangerous to mix together as nitro and glycerine. The resulting explosion would be falling-down, rolling-on-the-floor laughter.
And then there are the polls showing that people don't think Joe Biden
is funny anymore, polls showing that North Carolina and Florida are
slipping away from Obama whether on account of gay marriage or not, if
it matters, polls showing coal states in revolt, and polls showing blue state Wisconsin is getting ready to defeat a recall of
their Republican tea party governor.
Polls aside, there are also open defections among
Democrats on the the anti-Bain, anti-capitalist message of the latest
Obama "war," and even lefties like Campbell Brown are sick of the "War
on Women" meme, while Chris Matthews bombs on Jeopardy and still can't
stop himself from slighting Sarah Palin's intelligence. Meanwhile there
is no federal budget for the fourth year in a row, and the White House
claims ridiculously that it has reduced federal spending even as the
national debt has doubled...
This is FARCE, people. And the president trots from celebrity
fundraiser to celebrity fundraiser doing absolutely nothing to improve
the economy while his wife -- twice reported to have threatened the
beloved family man icon with divorce, most recently in 2010 -- continues to flee his company,
currently with her own book tour about growing vegetables on the
White House lawn, as if no one before her had ever thought of the
blessings of agriculture in the United States of America.
When I spoke of humor, I thought you might be inspired to start
tracking the ever-increasing jokes about a failed administration that
really is doomed to defeat.
But you'd rather be glum about Romney. I'll give you one final joke to
think about. If he's the utter flip-flopper you think he is, what will
his positions be when he controls both houses of Congress? Can he sign
legislation that passes to his Oval Office desk? I'm thinking yes.
And I'm also thinking that he's a Mormon. They're pretty sharp with a
buck. Why so many of them have so many of them. That would be the
funniest punchline of all.
When the laughter finally geysers through the ancient crust of the MSM,
it will be all over. Even if SNL, Stewart, Colbert, and Letterman can't find anything risible about the worst president in U.S. history. You could be a part of that. If you aren't still
licking your ideological wounds.
Roosevelt was but the first of a long-line of celebrities who have
Ralph's their Philadelphia destination. Located at our current
address, 760 S. 9th
Street , since 1915, we have hosted the likes of Frank Sinatra,
Lena Horne, Tony Bennett, Tom LaSorda, Joey Giardello, Rocky
Franci, Al Martino, Sammy Davis Jr., Michael Keaton, Heather
DeLuise and countless others. Philadelphia luminaries from Connie
Mayor Frank Rizzo have found Ralph's just the right place for
dinner. Us too.
...San Francisco’s iconic eatery
Fior D’Italia went belly-up on Tuesday after 126 years of serving
calamari, osso buco and gnocchi to hungry masses.
Fior d’Italia, founded in 1886, is no longer America’s oldest
Italian restaurant. That oven-hot torch has now passed to Ralph’s,
on South 9th Street near Catharine, founded in 1900 by Rubino’s
great-great-grandparents Francesco and Catherine Dispigno.
"We’re in shock," says manager
Rubino, 24, as he takes a breather on Ralph’s second floor,
where piped-in arias echo off tiny ceramic floor tiles that are
100 years older than he is. "The Fior d’Italia people were
friends. They had a daughter who went to Penn — she was in here
all the time. One of our managers, his mother-in-law went to
Fior d’Italia when she visited San Francisco — they treated her
like royalty, wouldn’t let her pay for a thing! There’s been
nothing but love between us. So this is a sad day."
I hope Rubino and his family — including dad Jimmy and uncle
Eddie, who are the owners — don’t stay sad for long. Because it
truly is a really cool thing that Ralph’s has shed its "second
oldest" mantle, which always had an also-ran ring to it.
As if it’s fair to label any business an also-ran when it has
thrived in the same neighborhood for 112 years. Survived the Great
Depression — and 22 mayoral administrations. Been run by the same
family. And been loved by multiple generations of customers who
wouldn’t celebrate a milestone event with a plate of chicken parm
Maybe I’ve lived here too long,
but it’s wonderful to know that, as the city’s fortunes have
changed, as old buildings have been demolished, as once solid
Philly names like Wanamaker’s and Strawbridge’s have evaporated
like the steam off a plate of mussels red — well, that some
places, like Ralph’s, are right where we left them the last time
At Ralph’s, the familiarity has bred loyalty, which has bred more
familiarity, which has bred more loyalty. And somehow, the people
in charge have had the wisdom, over the past 112 years, not to
muck with that...
"We have customers who’ve been coming here for 60 years," says
Rubino, a cheery young man who remembers waiting tables, in a
tuxedo, when he was just 8 years old. ("I made a fortune in that
tux," he recalls. "People handed me money left and right.")
He pauses. "SIXTY YEARS. Think about that. It’s crazy."
Last Friday, he said, a woman
walked through the door and burst into tears. A South Philly
native, she’d spent years dining with her parents at Ralph’s but
moved away decades ago. Entering the restaurant, her memories of
those soft-focus days actually moved into real time.
"She said, ‘It’s exactly as I remember it!’" says Rubino. "It’s
like she got a piece of her childhood back. It happens all the
time. People are stunned that we’re still here." [boldface added]
Ralph's is our favorite restaurant in Philadelphia. We go there only
with good friends. Not because it doesn't impress but because
there's no need to impress. It's just the right place to go with
good friends. The food is exactly right, the service is outstanding,
and yet there's no dog to put on. Everything is as it should be. By
accident or not, we usually get the exact same table. We feel at
home. They make us feel at home. Very close quarters. A wrong elbow
could disturb a diner at another table. Yet no one is ever
disturbed. I concede there's a sense, a very faint sense, that this
is a restaurant where Michael Corleone could have killed Sterling
Hayden, but I've never been tempted to check the tank in the small
bathroom downstairs. Tile floors, tin ceiling, tuxedoed waiters, and
no desire to up the wine bill past chianti. I've been to Italy and I
love it, but I'd rather be here. It's pure Italian and pure
American, pure Philly.
Another reminder that seems especially pertinent just now. The list
of celebrity guests up top. For them to have enjoyed this place as
we do, they must have accepted the same limitations we do -- small
space, intimate dining, no room or scope for posturing and
caterwauling. Those celebrities must have been, at heart, not
megalomaniacal tycoons but homely sorts like us. Even Sinatra. Or
they wouldn't have come, wouldn't have enjoyed it.
The old places still have something to teach us. Some lessons aren't
hard to learn. They happen over a good dinner in a place you never
want to lose.
Better yet are the proofs that we are not geographical islands. The
bond between Ralph's and Fior D'Italia is what America should be all
about. Italians and Americans both, with no confusion about whether
either is more important. They're both important. Hands across the
continent. Blood bonds and national bonds. I sincerely hope we don't
lose the glorious sum.
...but even a ghost gets tired from
time to time.
Take this opportunity to talk among yourselves. You have a lot to talk
about, whether you know it or not.
. We're conservatives. We care about people, right? And
Instapunk is a community, right? Or did I get that wrong? So yesterday,
we received this comment from our prodigal Helk:
On Saturday I got robbed at gunpoint. I
rode my bike down to the grocery store to get some ice cream, you see.
The artist lady had some money and I had the energy to ride a bike and
thus I went to the store to get some ice cream.
I am mentally handicapped. I am
functionally retarded. Seriously, I am. But I know how to make people
laugh and I know how to lift heavy things and I can do a bunch of tasks
for people and they usually agree that I do a good job. For a retarded
Well, I am not mentally handicapped when
it comes to reading environments due to the fact that retarded people
are everybody's mark. I am a mark, all the time. It is written on my
face (when my face is visible).
And that might be part of the problem.
You see, sometimes people think I need a haircut. They say, "Jeff, you
look crazy man. Your clothes are all torn up, you look homeless." I
explain that a person who is intelligent about being functionally
retarded wants to look crazy and homeless, because intelligent-looking
(smart looking) people are marks. Marks for scorn, ridicule, and
But I let them (those who argue for
straight edges) get me when my guard was down - and they gave me a
military haircut. And then on the night of the ice cream ride (last
Saturday night) I went out the door looking like some kind of
country-clubber. I was wearing nice pressed khaki shorts and a pastel
blue button up shirt. All I needed was a sweater tied around my neck.
But instead I got a gun to my chest.
"This is a motherfuckin' robbery."
OK. I mean. Fuck. I bought some M&M's
and I was going to eat them on the ride home. Also, you see, I had a
nice bike, but I gave it away to the female artist. She had and now
continues to have a crappy mountain bike.
Well, as a result of the seat being
lowered to her height requirement I decided to push the bike up one
particularly steep hill. Just one particular hill. Eating the
M&M's. And I forgot what I was dressed like.
"Give me all your money."
"I don't have any money, man."
"I said give me all your money."
"I *don't have* any money." I handed over
He took it. His eyes lit up because I
communicated to him that he had won. That I had no desire to chase him,
or report him. In fact, I hoped to help him. I hope things get better
"Denial is more than a river in Egypt!"
somebody once said to me. I was too pathetic to know what The Nile was.
I still don't really know. I mean, river? Is that what it is? A rocky
slit in the Earth's crust that fills with water that falls from the
sky? That makes sense, right? Water, in the sky, just falling down.
Well, I am sorry but ?I am functionally retarded and that makes very
little sense to me. Heat, the Sun, water molecules, gaseous envelope
inside a magnetic shield; those are fictions, right? No? See, I am
stupid and dumb. It is true that water falls from the sky. And
smart-looking people, who are also marks, are explaining everything in
terms that work for themselves and everybody else.
Did I ever mention my predicament to you?
It involves my daughter, an x-wife, and a man who threatened to kill my
daughter if I ever tried to contact her. Have I ever explained any of
that to you? Of course not. But as a sidebar, let me say it has had
something to do with how my lifestyle has evolved.
Dreadly. But she is doing well. She has
developed and is, in effect, far better off (in the material sense)
than I am. Her step-father, who has not and will not talk to me, will
not and has not talked to me. Except to say that if I try to contact
her that she would be killed.
If they were hillbilly's I would of
course have made adjustments. But he is no hillbilly. At all. And that
is what made his threat seem so very real.
Well, at any rate, with my daughter now
missing and my x-wife in London, what can I possibly do?
Pray. Of course. God exists, even if
invisibly. So I will pray hard and repent for my fell ways.
I tried to call him two, maybe three times. No answer. What did you do?
We're supposed to care about one another, aren't we?
I have his phone number and will keep calling. What will you do or say?
. For the ones who are waiting and hoping for it all
fall apart. Share your vision. You sit home and chuckle when Obama is
reelected, because there's no difference between Obama and Romney, and
then what? Which map is your favorite? This one?
Or this one.
Be convincing. By which I mean convincing me you didn't get it all from
. This is great. Tick, tick, tick. I don't have to have any
ideas. Tick, tick, tick. I can just wait for you to have some.
Truth is, I don't mind having ideas. I do it all the time. Thing is, if
it's all done, there's no point in me having ideas, no point in you
being here, and no point in doing anything but watching the Doomsday
Clock. Has this ever occurred to the resolute Cassandras amongst you?
Tick, tick, tick.
. Prescription? Comedy. The missus, who knows men better
than men know themselves, prescribed "Porky's" or anything by Bill
Murray. She would have been right except for this, the ultimate, the
funniest movie ever made.
If you can't laugh at Animal House, you may as well crawl into
your grave and die.