Happy Anniversary, Trayvon

As Bayou Renaissance Man noted yesterday, it's been seven years since Trayvon Martin received curbside justice.

Lest we be remiss in proper celebration of such dates, allow us to properly commemorate the anniversary of his justified removal from the species:

What They Want, Versus Will Get

This from GVDL, WRSA, and originally KD.

As usual, Denninger gets things half-right.

There is intended to be a Civil War. The Leftards openly fantasize this, as they see themselves as swooping in to repeat another victory.

Except this time the South is every white person, everywhere.
(They think they'll get over because they "identify" as gay black women. It won't work any better for them than for the frog giving the scorpion a ride.)

But "we" (D. apparently has a mouse in his pocket) won't be stopping it, because "we" didn't start it, don't control the narrative, and have neither the will nor inclination to prevent gravity from working.
The chimp-out under plan is being ginned up per protocol, exactly as thousands of smaller versions have, with a monotonous cadence of hoax crimes, all beating the drum inexorably to fan the flames and direct the muster of exactly the CW intended.

The surprise will be when (and if) it comes calling.

On Day One, predictably to a mathematical certainty, they run out of cops, after two or perhaps three volleys. The cops already know this to a man, hence the distinct lack of vigor to go about it in the first place.

If no learning occurs prior, on Day Two, The Culling begins in earnest.
Instructive, at this point, is the Flight 93 Effect: i.e. in this day and age, you've got about half an hour's free reign to hatch your Clever Plan, and after that, the so-called Sheeple, having been red-pilled to the New Reality,  will come at you, if necessary with bread knives and rolled up magazines. And then you and your Clever Plan are over.

The problem for the Leftards is that Joe Average can do much better, on thirty minutes' notice, than bread knives and rolled up magazines, unless he's trapped in an aluminum tube at 40k'.

It will be ARs and Glocks and such, until all obvious targets have either changed shape, caught fire, or bled out.

Then, the survivors (and pure odds overwhelmingly favors one side, and that side is not The Diversity) will look to who started it, and The Hunt will begin in earnest.

By Friday, people will be rounded up in batches, and shot against the handiest wall, and it likely won't end until Rush Limbaugh is considered the most Liberal Man in America.

You can forget the military; they'll be hamstrung, and the wiser ones (about 98%) will either have joined the melee, or chosen to sit on their hands until the festivities are over, rather than wade amidst an internal war fray. They'll retreat to their bases, and lock the gates, with orders to merely repel boarders, and fire only defensively. And for exactly the same reason the Beijing Guards wouldn't fire on the Beijing students in Tiananmen Square.
The Chicoms had to import hicks from the sticks to do that dirty work.
Our military won't have time for that, not being prepared beforehand.
And they'll see what happens to the cops, from local to federal, and want no part of that pie for themselves. ("Only a fool fights in a burning house.")

{In fact, see if you don't find young and middle-aged guys headed home in their work out gear, and find piles of empty police uniforms in the police station parking lots, when most of them just go home to protect their own families.}

Besides, the military will generally have their hands full assuring six other world powers that the nukes are secure (nations that have them get itchy about that point, to a metaphysical certainty), and those other nations should fuck right off and stay out of this hemisphere, and not stick their nose into the bear fight, lest it get blown off with a response in the megaton range, by way of warning shot.
For the same reasons, there will be a rush to the Mexican Border, but it will be an exodus headed south, not north.

How long The Hunt lasts is an open question, as is how far the decline.
Some areas may last for weeks, some others for only a few hours.
The "Civil War" is liable to resemble more closely the Rodney King Riots, rather than the Unpleasantness of the 1860s. Ain't nobody got time for that, and in any event, there'll be no one left to whack after a few days or weeks, the rest either dead or in hiding or exile, with bounties on their heads.

You think the Left will suddenly show backbone?
Look at an Antifa event: one Moldylocks face punch, and it's over.
The "brave" ones only attack with police escort and at 10:1 odds.
Toe to toe, they scurry like roaches, and when heads start exploding and guts opened up right and left, they'll set Olympic track records getting back to the safety of mommy's basement, if they can make it there unscathed. And those are their "tough" customers.

Hospitals and churches won't be a safe zone sanctuary, and there'll be no Geneva conventions: people will be pulled out by the hair and shot on the steps, when and where found.

Media outlets will be gutted free-fire zones: radio, TV, newspapers. Open season on "journalists", and no bag limit. Mark my words. This ain't going to be Vietnam or GWI or GWII: "PRESS" creds on your vehicle or person will be a death sentence. "The Revolution will not be televised."
You may get some Liveleak and youTube hashed up cell video, but it will look like shakey-cam outtakes from The Blair Witch Project or War Of The Worlds, and liable to get you shot in the face for doing it, so it will not be a wise move to be the guy holding out a cell phone camera like some talisman of protection, unless it's got an NIJ rating sufficient to stop .30 cal incoming.

What happens after that is when things get interesting, in a Chinese curse sort of way, and my crystal ball is hazy by that point.

Then we'll see who's organized, and legitimized, or whether we enter the warlord and dictator period of history.

And whether it starts next month or twenty years from now - if it ever does - is still a wide-open question.

But the Left definitely thinks they want one to start, and are openly salivating at the prospect.
Like all mad dogs.


But mad dogs always get shot. Always.

Then you go after their owners.

Pogo FTW

O God, this is like a nightmare.
And me thinking with multiple posts linked on different sites today, my writing work was done.

From Comments to the prior post. This deserves the front page:

"The women doing all vulgar stuff you see in the media are not the issue; they are lost already. What the draft will do is take the good ones who do value family over job and send them off to slaughter and PTSD. There ARE good women out there, and drafting them will destroy what the enemy of our souls could not until now.

What I had assumed was that WRSA readers were more conservative in their moral values than most, and that they would want to see their women adopt more traditional values that strengthened families. For men to group all women as radical feminists and then rejoice to see all women, including the ones with good values like being stay home moms drafted seems self defeating. If the "good" men (which I thought might read blogs like these) rejoice to see ALL young women drafted because of the vocal, obscene ones seen on television, then I would logically conclude that the enemy of our souls has won a major victory and is indeed living rent free in your heads and is getting you to self destruct. I hope I am wrong, but I do not see how it could be otherwise.

It is enlightening to read the assumptions made about me in the above blog and in comments. Here is a bit about me; see if it fits your assumptions and assertions. I spent 14 years as a Navy fighter pilot, became a Christian and left the military to stay home and raise kids. I am rabidly conservative, against abortion (my husband and I have offered to raise children that would otherwise be aborted and adopted three children). We live a victorian life here where women often run around in long skirts, maintain their purity before marriage, and play classical music on the piano when we are not working our farm. My husband is a respected leader in our home and would never speak the way many of your men speak here, No woman in our home would be disrespectful to our men. But I ask you; we have a daughter who has maintained her purity in all ways, is hard working and sweet, loves Jesus and respects authority.....where would I find a moral man for her for a husband?

What I see here is despair; the kind of despair that will result in defeat.

As for the Kurdish woman in the above picture, find out the situation. If the Muslims come here like they did to Kurdish lands, our women would fight to the last with our men just as she did. Better beheaded than raped and forced into Islam. You should hope yours would, too."

No sale, Lori.

A woman willing to defend hearth and kin as a last-ditch defense: What Louis L'Amour called "a woman to ride the river with".
A woman who wants to go to war: not so much.

Your own background makes this worse, not better.
And I didn't assume you, personally, were a rabid man-hating feminist; I have only the evidence of my own lying eyes and 50 years of black-and-white text and living-color documented history of the culture I live in to name the source of this error. Don't take it all personally. You're more a symptom than an author.

You passed a gender-normed PFT every time you took one, and your service itself perpetuated the nonsense that has now led, logically and inexorably, to precisely this point. No one but you is astounded at this.

"Women might be drafted?!? Including my daughter?!? Where are my smelling salts and fainting couch?"
And so now you want not-quite actual gender equality, and special favors for your gender. At the expense of men everywhere. Again.
Just like you got every day of your entire military career.
Color me shocked.

Of course women should be and will be drafted (which goes by the quaint title of "Equality before the law"), and they'll be killed and maimed, because you think you're equal. You and the Sisterhood beat that drum like a rented mule your whole life, probably before you were even born, whether you burned your bra then or found Jesus now or not, and now that the chickens have come home to roost, you want to become a vegan.
Nice try.

"How do you write women so well?"
"I think of a man, and I take away reason and accountability."
- As Good As It Gets

Those women, possibly including your daughter, will be killed and maimed because you want to have your cake and eat it too, pretending that there is no difference between the genders, because of your service, rather than despite it. Until there comes a draft call-up.

Chicken, meet hawk.

What you think now is all well and good, but if and when your daughter and anyone else's gets a draft notice, your name will belong in the block where it says "your friends and neighbors".
Own that.

And don't try to hide behind finding God.
He sent Jesus, yes.
He also sent Jeremiah and Isaiah.
And nobody liked what any one of them had to say.
Human nature is remarkably consistent that way.

And that you cannot see that, even now, speaks volumes for the rot in common sense in the last half century.

Call me when you repudiate your service, regret having ever done it, and acknowledge the logical certainty and fairness that your daughter and generations yet unborn may be slaughtered on the altar of political correctness and gender-normed insanity, and get back to us when you do.
Nobel and Winchester were aghast at what their inventions wreaked on humanity too.
You (and tens of thousands of others) only helped lay the paving stones for women being blown apart.

You're the absolute last person anyone should listen to on the topic, because you still carry the disease.

Find me the mother of daughters who never considered serving in the military, who's willing to go to prison to stop women from ever being allowed to serve, not the person arguing for special privilege now that her own ox might be gored, or her little lambs slaughtered.

You stand accused by your own hypocrisy, and may indeed be hoist on your own petard.
Logic and actual gender equality is a bitch like that, ain't it?

The guys online have only been warning you about this coming inexorably for years going on to decades, but you couldn't hear them over the decibels of your afterburners, and the sound of your own awesomeness.

(A military fighter pilot with an attitude surplus? Who knew??)

That's not womyn-hating, disrespect, nor despair, it's an acknowledgement of both fairness, and the inevitability of one's jumping off a cliff leading to a painful stop at the base.
Even Wile E. Coyote could see that one coming.
You, evidently not so much.

Now your daughters and everyone else's will have to pay for that defect, and you want to tell us you didn't really want that.
Sorry reality hurts your feelings, sincerely.
(And if you're really worried about your daughter, I humbly suggest adding the biography of a boxer named Cassius Clay to her reading list.)
Now imagine how some drafted chick is going to feel when she steps on a landmine and blows her legs off one day, just because the Sisterhood needed to feel good about themselves in opposition to reality.

Wish: Granted

Re: Heh at WRSA, and the federal ruling that a draft of only men is unconstitutional, we saw this shrill bleat that such manifest fairness is unfair go unanswered:
 

It is interesting to read the comments on this subject. It seems most commenters would enjoy seeing their young women getting drafted into combat, getting killed or mutilated, and many call women by vile profanities. Only a few men like you hold the line in your own lives and resist the temptation to bitterness and self destruction.

It seems that few WRSA readers have the foresight to see that the enemy has already set up residence in your head and wrecked any future you could have had in a decent, moral society if you take joy in the thought of having your own women forced into combat, killed or mutilated.

Hey, hold my beer:

Dear Lori,

1) Shells that landed inside your perimeter can be assumed to be aimed fire. Welcome to combat. It's a bitch like that.

2) "Their" young women? Ha! "Your body, your choice." Wait, what?
People told you for fifty years that if feminazis wanted to push for military service equality, you'd get it, good and hard. Welcome to the party, pal. The federal courts just punched your equality ticket. Enjoy combat. I hear it's a peach. Bummer you can't change biology, huh?
That rustling sound is your chickens coming home to roost.

3) "and many call women by vile profanities".
Sorry, I couldn't hear you over the sound of the caterwauling about toxic masculinity, rape culture, and 57 other flavors of anti-man feminist horseshit polluting the culture for 50+ years.
Men built the culture and the civilization, and even gave the Sisterhood the very equality they're now enjoying, and all the Sisterhood has done with each expansion of that equality is squat and shit harder on men in general, and in specific.
Imagine a sentence that begins with the word "Go", and ends with "yourself", and see if you can cleverly supply the missing four-letter verb that belongs between the imperative and the object in that sentence.
Some of us aren't holding the line, we're holding our sides while you get your equality, good and hard, just like you bitched, whined, moaned, and pussy-hatted for. Wasn't you? Go bitch at three generations of bull dykes in congress, et al, whom you let do your talking, and voting. Now you'll get to enjoy feeling like men do when the military draft makes them Fate's bitch. Legend has it your gender has some experience with that, so all y'all should take to this like a duck to water. Pisser about how heavy the packs are, huh?

4) "bitterness and self-destruction".
Really? You mean after watching generations aborted in their millions, women en masse making sport of degrading, deriding, and ridiculing men as a gender, for decades, we're not already seeing the root of that bitterness that lead to civilizational self-destruction? On what planet? Maybe you've noticed the growth industry of importing women from foreign lands as yet uninfected by the American Harpy Disease as brides here, who have still some wee notion of the eternal sense of division of roles by gender, courtesy of biology, and who're not afraid to be mothers, while resisting the asinine fairytale notion that you can "have it all", instead preferring marriages that endure, and motherhood in a two-parent traditional family, while resisting the perennially failing idea that you can skip those things, and have an endless parade of penises, and a career, and then squeak out a child as an artificially inseminated career woman, with Government as the Baby Daddy, because Gloria Steinem lied it into truth.

5) "It seems that few WRSA readers blah blah blah"...
No, sweetheart, the enemy has been sitting in residence in our institutions. Perhaps you've been asleep for fifty years. Men have not.
They're tired of being accused of rape every time some drunken bimbo has buyer's remorse the morning after. Or makes a story up out of whole cloth for a shot at a payday.
They're tired of having no say about an abortion, but being saddled with full support for any baby delivered.
They're tired of being saddled with paternity in a marriage despite that fact that up to 30% of all births within wedlock (itself a vanishing fraction of total births) are actually bastards sired by sluts catting around on the sly.
They're tired of women yammering for equality, then treating husbands and fathers as disposable, after garnishing their paychecks for anywhere from 18 years to life.

So how about some more actual equality:
A baby isn't your body. So from now on, no abortion unless the baby consents to it as well.
Good luck with that one.

Child support is 50/50. Women will be henceforth required to submit child support payments to the state in escrow. Women who fail to pony up the same amount as the father will be declared unfit, lose custody, and be imprisoned. Welcome to Deadbeat Mom status. Sauce for the gander.

No spousal support. You want spousal support, stay married. Divorce is henceforth a declaration of a desire by the filing party to be self-sufficient, entirely on their own hook. Alimony is hereby reset to $0, in perpetuity, in all cases. Each party departs the relationship with what they came into it with, and 50% of all joint assets produced during the union. And nothing more going forward. Now you're equal. You don't get to marry and divorce your way to an endless monkey-branching half of every man's paycheck as your lifetime pension plan if you don't honor the "until death do us part" section of the oath.

False and unsubstantiated accusations of rape, battery, or sexual harassment will be mandatorily prosecuted, with non-negotiable sentencing of the guilty equal to the highest sentence allowed for a man convicted of the same crime. Plus civil damages and loser pays lawyer fees. Due process is a thing again.

Three false accusations of same will constitute Three Strikes, and lifetime incarceration.

Aw...too soon?

6) "wrecked any future you could have had in a decent, moral society..."
Stop, you're killing me, and my sides hurt from laughing.
Look at teen pregnancy, the number of abortions, divorce, out-of-wedlock births, shacking up, marital infidelity, and every social pathology traceable incontrovertibly to single parenthood (read single motherhood), and tell we where is that decent, moral society you've fantasized. Maybe among the Amish, or back in 1950. No one's seen it hereabouts for decades.

7) "if you take joy in the thought of having your own women forced into combat, killed and mutilated".
Apparently you've missed those same men, in droves, warning you that's exactly what you were going get if the Sisterhood kept pushing this anti-biological codswallop contrary to reality forever that women are physically equal to men, and missed as well exactly the commenters you deride (hard to break old habits?) tell you until their tongues had calluses that 99% of women don't even belong in the military in the first place, and never have, let alone within a country mile of combat duties, because there isn't 1 in a literal 1,000,000 women who could even pass the physical.
And that it's going to get women and men killed and maimed when it's tried, and on top of that, cost us a battle, a campaign, perhaps even a war.

But the Womyn Of The 21st Century are immune to such facts, logic, and millennia-long biological realities, and aren't having any of it, because the Sisterhood has pink-pilled them into oblivion chasing exactly this nonsensical fairytale nightmare.

If all we had to do was draft the lot of you, and kill and maim you in the literal millions to finally eradicate the error, I'd happily see an entire generation of lunatic women dismembered and slaughtered, just to see the pitiful few croaking and bloody survivors come crawling back to common sense on their bloody stumps, and let us try again societally in 20 years with generations yet unborn and untainted by the poisonous nonsense of retard feminism.
It would be a bargain for everyone but yourselves if the inevitable bloodbath only looked like WWI trench warfare, and wiped you out to the last lip-quivering Wannabe Combat Barbie.

And since that appears to be the only way 99% of you will ever wrap your empty, ungrateful heads around reality, the day cannot come soon enough.

Pucker up and kiss the pig you've been applying lipstick to since the 1970s.
You chose your date for this prom, and now you're all about to dance with the partner that brung you to this point: a civilizational death wish.

Skip to my lou, baby.
Full gender equality, at last.
While biology laughs her ass off at you and the insane Sisterhood who wrought this (99% of whom will never bear the brunt of this asininity which you foisted upon yourselves), and the Gods Of The Copybook Headings sit in the wings with their pens ready to tally up the cost of reality coming so late to your empty heads.

Some lessons leave a mark. Fortunately this one will.

And perhaps, next time you want to call out a gender, try pulling the board out of your own Sisterhood's eye before taking a half-assed swipe at men. You hit like a girl.

Some People's Kids...

...are only alive because there is a God, and He has a sense of humor.
 

Posted for scale.

And also because there are some folks willing to go up on top of an 80 year old rickety wooden building with previous roof collapses, and haul their drunk asses off with a Stokes litter and rescue hoist, to keep them from falling off a 2' wide catwalk onto the ground 200' below.

And that's all I'm going to say about that.

I also note for the record that the base is still federal property, that graffiti tagging, trespassing, and breaking windows are all federal felonies, and that judges seldom find the story as funny in superior court Monday at 9AM as it seemed Sunday night at 9PM.

Memento Mori

OldNFO had a post a couple of days ago about a panel at the Life, the Universe, and Everything Conference on Grieving.

The questions:

Question 1- Professionals working in fields that encounter death frequently tend to compartmentalize everything. How does this impact their reactions to death and grieving?
Question 2- What impact does military service have on reactions to death and injury, and how would that differ from civilians who encounter death frequently?
Question 3- Writers often approach the character who knows that they have a limited lifespan with fatalism or over-caution. Those are reactions that people have, but they’re hardly the only ones. And people don’t usually stay in either one as they actually get a chance to grieve the perceived loss and accept a new reality. What does this actually look like?
Question 4- Burnout is a real problem for police, military, and medical professionals alike. How much of that is related to being unable to grieve deaths that have happened in a professional setting and what does that look like for a character?
Question 5- How does someone with a chronic illness relate with people who are able-bodied and healthy? And how does working closely people who are living with chronic illnesses change your perception of it?

I (obviously) wasn't there, and only found the post after a gnarly night of gunshot wounds and traffic manglement (happily, no one died in our care) but here's my answer:

Unless you buy it after an IED explosion, or going out like Quint in Jaws, death mainly hurts the friends and family.

No one ever woke up during a Code Blue and said "Ow!". They were over it, and generally speaking, long gone and well past caring at that point.

And if they've had their threescore-and-ten, or more, it isn't really necessary to "compartmentalize" their death; someday, it's going to be everybody's time.

The hard ones are the way-too-early ones, especially kids and infants. No one pulls the plug on those for an hour or more, because kids.
And people doing the codes have kids, or have had.

Military deaths vary: for most, it's a growing up process, because it challenges the invincibility of youth. And what pisses you off is the sheer inexplicable randomness of it. Rarely can you say , "Well, Jimmy ate it because he did X stupid thing", because usually, you did the same thing as Jimmy, you were just five steps ahead of him or ten steps to the left, and sh*t happens. But it takes awhile, and some maturity to process that and come to terms with it.

Guys who make a career of flying or being around it see more death in peacetime than anyone else, and being the methodical types, try to glean some nugget out of it to make it not a waste. Some lesson to learn, some sort of "let's not do that again" message from a lost squadron-mate.
But sometimes, someone goes out, and just doesn't come back, and no one ever knows why.

A character in a situation facing their own mortality would go through all five of the Stages Of Grieving, randomly, serially, and every which way. Besides fatalism or over-caution, I have to think there would be some sense of hyper-awareness, of processing every sight and sound and sensation, because there was coming a final moment. They'd live every minute; scarcity brings value, something as true with time left on earth as any other thing.

I don't notice burnout, and I've been doing this 20+ years.
Sleep and days away from it solve a lot of problems.
That doesn't make hard cases and tough beats less, but the end of the day, the person on the gurney isn't me, or friend or kin, so when Death happens, I'm just the gate agent at the boarding ramp for the ECU (Eternal care Unit). You do your job professionally, you treat the subject with dignity before, during, and after, and you do the best job you can. I imagine it's like being a concert maestro who knows he's going to be executed after the last note: you'd want to deliver the most perfect final performance you could, right? It's exactly like athletes saying "leave everything you've got on the field." Even in a game you think you're going to lose, it isn't over until the last whistle.
If I was half-assing it, it'd be harder on me. I know it would. But if someone dies, and they died after I did every possible thing that could be done, there's no shame in not being superhuman, because the enemy (Death) gets a vote.

Chronic illness, and working with it, fills me with sadness when I see people who gave up, or chose stupidly and unwisely, and are finally paying the penalty of one big mistake, or a lifetime of little ones.
And it instills in me a dread that I do keep locked in some deep, dark basement, to hope to never have to face going slowly, by inches, for any reason. Everyone hopes for "the big one" to just check out relatively quickly and painlessly, ideally while asleep. No one says, "Please, let me lose my mind first, and then have my body hang on, so I can be screaming at the walls, rotting from bed sores, crapping in my diaper, drooling untasted pablum, and not recognizing my family until I finally get a massive septic infection and die."
And I can totally respect the person who chooses to go skydiving or mountain climbing, and have an "accident" facing that, choosing to meet Death on their own terms, instead of puttering along until all their own choices are forfeit. Or, not, and deciding to float with the current until The Day.

My 2¢.

Because I could not stop for Death –

He kindly stopped for me – 

The Carriage held but just Ourselves – 

And Immortality.

 

We slowly drove – He knew no haste

And I had put away

My labor and my leisure too,

For His Civility – 

 

We passed the School, where Children strove

At Recess – in the Ring – 

We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain – 

We passed the Setting Sun – 

 

Or rather – He passed us – 

The Dews drew quivering and chill – 

For only Gossamer, my Gown – 

My Tippet – only Tulle – 

 

We paused before a House that seemed

A Swelling of the Ground – 

The Roof was scarcely visible – 

The Cornice – in the Ground – 

 

Since then – ‘tis Centuries – and yet

Feels shorter than the Day

I first surmised the Horses’ Heads

Were toward Eternity –                          Emily Dickinson

 I mention this to remind folks that Death is part of life (rarely the fun or welcome part, but a component nonetheless), he follows his own schedule, and, exactly as Terry Pratchett imagined, HE TALKS IN CAPITAL LETTERS.                                             

Sunday Music: Midnight At The Oasis

Maria Muldaur's sultry melody, and butter-smooth jazz guitar perfection.
Enjoy.

Darwin 1, Species 0

h/t Irons In The Fire

One Down, Only 39,999,999 To Go

h/t 90 Miles From Tyranny

Another fine (Mexican, to a 99.999% certainty) export product, doing what they do.

Note with delight the literal grace under fire, and the following permanent deportation, this week, of three-time prior deportee Javier Hernandez Morales, in this case by Napa Valley County Sheriff's Deputy Riley Jarecki, after the protagonist tried to shoot her with a .22, and in short order, became the object of a 15-round mag dump to the torso, which successfully subdued his miscreance, permanently.

His final  "Aaaayyyyyy!" is clearly audible and intensely satisfying, howbeit all too brief, as the deputy successfully drains all the fight out of him when he tries to start his car and flee the scene of his murder attempt.

One Golden State Marksmanship Award, First Class, to Deputy Jarecki, and a heartfelt "Good Riddance!" to the murderous refuse with fatally poor situational awareness she has successfully deported forever. He represents 10,000 more crimes he'll never commit, 80 more elections he'll never vote in, and half a dozen anchor baby welfare brats he'll never sire, and all solved for less than $7 of duty ammunition, and a plastic garbage bag funeral in Potter's Field. If the family (in Mexico) wants the body shipped home, trebuchet at the closest Port Of Entry should be the officially selected method. (There may be a lesson or three in there somewhere.)

Would that they might show this video in Mexico, endlessly, as a reason to stop coming here, to 80M of Javier's primos.

"National Emergency" indeed, and here, the consequences, a mere 500 miles from the actual border.

It's a pity "Shoot On Sight" and "Dead Or Alive" posters have gone all out of vogue.

Reminder: Javier didn't just wake up that day and decide to carry an illegally-obtained weapon, illegally concealed, and attempt to murder a cop doing a traffic stop on a whim: he's been a criminal for years, if not his entire adult life.
They're all criminal illegal aliens. Some, more so than others.

Nice shootin', Deputy.

RIP: Peter Tork

Peter Tork, 77, bassist and keyboards for the Monkees, died yesterday of cancer.

Derided unfairly as the Pre-Fab Four, the Monkees nonetheless out-toured and outsold the Beatles at the height of their powers. With characteristic common sense and gentleness, Peter's comment on the group rings through the ages:

"There must have been something to us. We sure sold a lot of records."

Indeed they did. It's time for the prissy prigs to end the travesty, and put the group in the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame, where they belong, and while surviving band members Mickey Dolenz and Mike Nesmith are still alive to rake in the long-overdue honor.

Enjoy Peter, getting the girl for once.

You're All California Now

Over at WRSA, Conservative Cat Lady's Trump Derangement Syndrome is in full swing in Comments. Menopause is playing hell on Ann.

Go read if you like. Just probably best not after a meal.

But I see the point.

I mean, it isn't like anybody knew that the president signs spending bills, he doesn't pass them.

Total number of spending bills passed by POTUS 1787-yesterday: 0.
Total number he'll pass in the next 240 years: 0

Geez, it's almost like there was some sort of separation of powers under the Constitution, and the Speaker of the House and Congress had some wee responsibility, along with the Senate, for passing the bills the President gets to sign (or veto).

Wait, what???

There is such a thing?!?!?

You could look it up.
(And of course, Trump is to blame for them writing it that way in 1787. No doubt whatsoever.)

So keep BMWing about Trump, and covering for Quisling Ryan and Bitch McConjob doing nothing for two freaking years, because they knew THIS president would actually build a freaking wall, and their CoC contributions for cheap foreign labor would dry up.

O, if only there were a sharp-tongued Conservative Cat Lady harpy-pundit somewhere, who'd actually been to law school, and clerked for the federal appellate court, and had some bare inkling that this was the way things worked in a constitutional republic!

How tragic that we have no such person.

Clearly, this is 100% Trump's fault. 
Shrillary would have done a much better job.

And Yertle and Quisling wouldn’t have given her everything she asked for, on a platter, with an apple in its mouth.

Nosiree.

You’re a political genius, Ann.

Keep voting in Democrats to Congress in droves too, and then bitch because Superdaddy didn’t fill your Christmas stocking with anything but a lump of shit. 435 districts and 20 cabinet-level agencies stabbing the president’s agenda in the back 24/7/365 is all just an enormous coincidence too.

“We squeaked Cheeto Hitler into office by a red hair, and he didn’t fix everything forever overnight! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!

Hey, KY, thanks for Yertle over and over.
AZ, Senator-For-Life Braintumor McCrazy sure paid dividends on cancelling Obozocare, didn’t he?
FL, thank heavens for Marco ScrewYouBio and his shadow Amnesty plans, and shitting on gun owners on national TV!
And thanks WI, for Quisling Ryan, who quit after doing nothing for 2 whole years, and lost the entire House the first time out! That should come in handy for the next 6 years, huh?
And all those illegals Lindsay Grahamnesty couldn’t see in CA for 20 years are sure coming in handy in Democrat-For-Decades Califrutopia. Thanks a pantload! For payback, we’ve sent you Speaker Alzheimers, Fineswine and the endless AWBs, and now Senator Kneepads. You’re welcome!!

This isn't because of Boomers, X-ers, Millenials, or any other such codswallop.
We're paying for public education, and the fact that 90% of everyone since 1955 is in the Captain Kangaroo/Mister Rogers/Sesame Street Generation, where thinking is too hard, and Uncle Daddy should give me everything, whether that's ObamaPhones and Obozocare, or a Wall.

Shocker for you grade-free low-information Pass-Fail students: it doesn't work like that, and never has.

Your chickens?
Coming home to roost, boys and girls.
It’s a big shit sandwich, and you’re all going to take a huge bite.
Chew it up and swallow, or choke on it.
You made your own beds; now you can lay in them.

I swear to Buddha, you anti-Trump princesses are airheads like Amydala, shitting on the Chancellor, and paving the way for Emperor Palpatine, and then suddenly aghast when you see the Death Star swinging into position overhead.

You're all California now.

"Juliet" Smollett Headed For Joliet

h/t Borepatch

We saw the story break last night, but today's video is better than a mere news excerpt.

FakeNoose media ABCNNBCBS, the same ones who fell for the lies about the Covington kids, and Kavanaugh, and...and...and...and...ad infinitum wonders "How do we keep falling for this obvious bullsh*t Every.Single.Time?" Let me help them with that. All part of the service.

Dear Media,

You fall for obvious hoaxes like this because you're SJW morons who couldn't find two brain cells nationwide, between the lot of you. Any credibility you ever had is flushed down the sh*tter and lost forever, and you rank below Congress and used car salesmen for reliability with the public. That's why you're going bankrupt, being laid off in droves, and replaced by thousands of sites like this one: because we pass on information, and you pass on disinformation.
Do Svidaniya, comrades. You're over. - Aesop

Meanwhile Jussie, er, Juliet Smollett, is about to get fitted for a new girlfriend named Bubba, and a rectum about nine sizes looser, which should tickle his little pink heart (perhaps literally), and his C-list TV career is O.V.E.R.  
Lesson #10,069 in why Virtue Signalling never goes the way you think it should.

Bonus: the next ten times someone actually throws a noose around a gay black actor and tells him "This is MAGA Country", it's free, because that never happens in reality.
(Don Lemon, call your office.)
And it still won't, but even if it did, the imaginary victims will have a hill of doubt and suspicion twice as high to get over.

Just like the fraction of reported rape victims* who're actually telling the truth, because of all the Tawana Brawleys and Duke U. party hookers out there looking for a payday.

Nice move, jackhole. You've gone from lightning rod of fake hate, to one of actual hate, in only one b.s. story. You should've never passed up a good opportunity to STFU. So long, douche, and enjoy your next adventures.




*{FTR, the perpetrators of actual rapes should be horsewhipped. To death.
So should every woman who reports a fake one. Fair is fair.
If you're against the death penalty on principle, I'd settle for branding "RAPIST" or "RAPE LIAR", respectively, on their foreheads. Pour encourager les autres.}

From The Ministry Of Obviousness

Look, lets's be fair:

It's wrong to put a noose around a black man's neck, and since it's now obvious to everyone including Stevie Wonder who did this to Jussie Smollett, it's high time the Cook County D.A. and the Chicongo PD takes this seriously, and arrests the man responsible:

Jussie Smollett.

Get the smug little bastard indicted, arrest him, and prosecute him to the fullest extent of the law, not for filing a false report, but for lynching a black man.

And when he's convicted of the crime in about an hour, throw the book at him.

That gives him what he deserves, while sending the right message about racial crimes.

He's already the Tawana Brawley of the 21st century, and a C-list Affirmative Action diversity bean hire actor on his best day (being associated with North isn't something even Rob Reiner puts on his resume), so maybe it's time he was leading drama classes at Joliet, in D block.

He should probably change his name to Juliet. He's going to be very popular.

Sunday Music: Suite Judy Blue Eyes

Enjoy.

Times two.
Like Fleetwood Mac, these three are orders of magnitude greater than the sum of their individual parts.
Original studio version:

And I'm rarely a fan of live performances, but this extended one from decades after the original version pays it off.
Stephen Stills crushes his solo at 4:44.

 

I started this because from time to time, the Universal jukebox, YouTube, would scratch an itch for a given piece of music. (Which is an internet blackhole worth the trouble.)  And with anything that's free, you're the product, and the ones I liked, I hit the "Like" button, and lo and behold, by the power of algorithms, I suddenly have my own mix generated based on my rather eclectic tastes.

 

Guardians Of The Galaxy mix, eat your heart out.

Rumblings Of A Distant Thunder...

So after the all the build-up, President Trump's going to have his cake and eat it too:
Apparently he'll sign the Porculus Omnibus bill, flaws and all, and turn around and declare an emergency, and tap Pentagon spending for national security to build the Great Big Beautiful Wall, gambling that at the end of the day, the courts rule in his favor, and he builds the wall.

And no, this isn't "Unprecedeted!", for the @$$holes at ABCNNBCBS.

h/t Daily Timewaster

Pelosi and Schumer can't very well repudiate their own bill, nor can anyone in Congress whine, after two different congresses had multiple chances to do the right thing, that they weren't consulted, and  serially couldn't get things done on both the wall and immigration reform, and never failed to fail.

The odds are good Trump's case will prevail in court, and he'll build the wall. Whether that'll be enough, and soon enough, to save him in 2020 is an open question.

If he doesn't start shoveling illegals back over it, the template for election-stealing has already been field-tested, and a wall alone will be too little too late. The poison pills in the border security bill may still lose enough of his base to flip an election outright, or the wall may make enough short-term difference to flip the Congress again, and get him one more amenable than Quisling Ryan's bunch of do-nothing GOP Chamber of Commerce illegal alien lovers did to turn things around for awhile.

Time will tell.

If he loses in court, or fails to win re-election, or it's all been for nothing (anyone of which is an open question going forward), this was the high-water mark of a potential lame duck presidency.

The number of people who've gone belly-up underestimating this president since 2015 is legion, so I wouldn't bet against him, but I'd cover my bets.

The Democrats are beyond argument the anti-white and anti-America party, (like there was ever any doubt), and there's no limit to their madness, as recent days have demonstrated times beyond counting.
The GOP half of the Uniparty is mainly just for the same thing, but slower, with less gusto and a wee bit more subtlety.

We're not Eurostan - yet - but that's the destination intent, and things here aren't going to fizzle, they're going to fester, short of miracles.
I would not base any planning on the expectation of miracles.

Either way, win or lose in 2020, your respite is going to end. You have either until 1/21/2021, or 1/21/2025, to have your situation well enough in hand for what's still coming. The Under on that is just over 700 days. Make. Them. Count.

At any point, international pandemic, global recession, or black swan events may create unlooked for chaos. And absent a sea change turn-around, the demographic tsunami headed your way as the Turd World continues to stream here and ruin two hundred years of the greatest standard of liberty and economic opportunity on earth is still headed for you, whether it's moving in first gear, or fifth.

You should be getting your What-If plans in order, getting yourself in shape, physically and mentally to cope with chaos, and ready to act, not talk, if life hands you a triple-decker sh*tburger. Like it probably will. A small local disaster is every bit the problem for some people a global disaster is for everyone. Being prepared and resilient is never wasted effort.

The Eighties and Nineties are over: things are not going to stay nifty for anyone, for long.
And what comes next may topple a civilization, or just push it into a long, slow descent into a profound decline, the likes of which, if you knew them ahead, would have you frantically doing everything you could to avert the consequences on a personal level.

Avoid crowds.
Be Somewhere Else when bad things happen.
Save For Rainy Days.
Live Within Your Means.
Strong People Are Harder To Kill, And Generally More Useful.
No One Else Will Be Coming To Save You.

Feb 2019 Ebola Update: Cheery Thoughts

Six months in, the second-worst Ebola outbreak in history trails only the 2014 West African Pandemic Games Ebola world record (Level 15-17, depending on whose numbers you believe.)
You are officially at a Level 10 on the 34-Step Pandemic Panic-Meter©.
FYI, every ten steps or so takes the number of cases up by 10³.
I.e., Level 1 is 1 case (Patient Zero).
Level 10 is 1,000 cases (Now, 6 months into the outbreak).
Level 20 is 1,000,000 cases (At current course and speed, perhaps as soon as this coming August, six months from now. And that's with a near-flawless experimental vaccine in use. Alternatively, maybe only 8,000 cases in August; still bad, but not that much worse than now.)
{And yes, the Black Death and smallpox are still the all-time record holders. So far.}
Level 30 is 1,000,000,000.
Level 34 is everyone. (Minus the infectious but survived-the-initial-infection 20%).

Good News: The vaccinations have made this a slow ramp-up to 1000 cases.
Bad News: No slowing in sight, and at a certain point, things begin instead to accelerate, like rolling a boulder down a steep hill.

FWIW, West Africa topped out somewhere around 90,000 cases and 30K-40K deaths (using the conservative estimate that reported numbers were "only" 1/3 of reality numbers. And Word To Your Mother, with actual mortality numbers, if they had 90K cases - and they did - they had >70K deaths. Even with the 30K number of cases, deaths would have to be around 24K. So you can tell they were lying, because their lips were moving.)

And they admitted two months ago this outbreak would go on at least another six months. Things now are worse than two months ago there, not better. Ponder that before you think this will "burn itself out" ever, let alone anywhere south of 1,000,000 cases.

And yes, the official tally right now is "only" 959, not an actual 1000, but due to the fact that they haven't been able to vaccinate, trace contacts, or even operate health teams in the highest-affected areas for days and weeks at a stretch, the reality is that they probably blew past 1000 cases some weeks ago. I'm going with calling that one now, instead of waiting for next week's WHO report.

And once again, the fatality rate is right on at 80%. Not the happy-gas 60%.
(Go to Wikitardia's page: Take the deaths today. Divide that number by the confirmed  Ebola cases 21 days earlier. Nota bene that result is consistently within a point of 80%, going back to the first weeks of the outbreaks. Math: Still a thing, Wikipedia.)

And in case you weren't aware, Ebola "care" in DRC, and all of Africa, at Ebola Treatment Centers, is always "palliative", i.e. "make their symptoms and inevitable death less uncomfortable", for the 80% who'll expire.The "lucky" 20% who survive will now carry the disease effectively for life (every time they check survivors, they find live virus reservoirs) and can look forward to not only re-infecting friends and family (which may be one hitherto unsuspected source of new outbreaks going back to the 1970s), but eventually going blind, and multiple other lifelong consequences. Good times. Oh, and that's exactly the future for the survivors treated here in the US in 2014-2015. Their lives are functionally over, and they're dead men/women walking.

Bonus point for this outbreak:

 "the World Health Organization indicated that half of confirmed cases were not showing any fever symptom, thus making diagnosis more difficult.^"

How do they screen out potential Ebola infectees at the airports and border crossings (when they bother to try)?
Fever.

Pleasant dreams.

TL;DR: You don't have enough sand bags, concertina wire, and ammunition for what's coming once it escapes the lab. Again.

Video reference: World War Z.

Forecast: When this becomes as blisteringly obvious to TPTB as it is now, here, any actual and factual reporting on it will be squelched. Just like in 2014.
Watch and see if I'm right. I'd love not to be.

Life Lesson: For You Who Live Sheltered Lives

For the Perpetually Offended:
This is not a black man, nor a Caucasian in "black face".
It's a man with "homeless tan", i.e. what happens when lack of primary hygiene
 tattoos 60 years of dirt into your skin. This is also what the typical homeless
person of +/- 35 y.o. looks like. Drugs, alcohol, and crazy are not your friends.

Riffing off Mosby's recent repost of his 2014 thoughts on field sanitation and hygiene, I offer the following experience, far too recent.

I have elsewhere documented a previous encounter with a member of the Street Diversity.
Suffice it so, I recently had occasion to deal with several more, including Mr. Brown. (Go read the linked story, above. Not right before nor after a meal.) Mr. Brown was worse than Mrs. Brown. Same basic premise (living in car for months to years). Twenty pounds of actual sh*t in his shorts. Except with septic shock, and a literal coral reef of fungus on both legs, inches thick, which didn't spontaneously generate over days nor even weeks. He was outted when the vehicle he was driving struck a parked car in a lot, and PD found him.

Another, probably a cousin of the Brown family tree, was living similarly, with holes in his skin such that I could do anatomy lessons from the exposed musculature visible through his windows, a pair of sodden feet (due to recent rains) inside boots that were a classroom lecture and lab on immersion foot, and a probable case of necrotizing fasciitis, i.e. flesh-eating bacteria.

Both of them with extra riders, i.e. parasitic infestations.

Those guys usually die within a day or two, BTW. We may save one or both, but only just barely.

Who cares, you're not doing my job, right?

Okay, well-played. Except not so much.

And suppose Mr. Brown had hit your car?
Or what if Cousin Brown washed up on your doorstep, or at the end of your lane, in anything from just bad luck to major disaster, let alone SHTF?

If these sorts of Zombie Hordes walk around every day in first-world conditions now (and I'm here to assure you that they do), what are the odds you run across them come a local disaster, let alone civil disruption, or full-on Sportiness when bad things happen to everyone?

My SWAG: about 100%.

What's your plan to deal with that?
(For the smart @$$/dumb @$$ who kneejerk replies "Rule 308", fair enough and all; so, waddarya gonna do with the leftovers afterwards?)

How prepared are you to deal with the unhygienic unwashed stinking pestilential shambling masses anywhere between city hall and the front porch, dead or alive?

Sanitary disposal and Level-A Hazmat decon better be on your radar, long before it's on your front porch.

And you'd better be pretty up-to-date on your vaccinations, as well as being able to deal with every one of 100 medieval pestilential plagues after anything as simple as bad weather.
And game it for when you cannot call 911, and have the county coroner's van show up to dispose of the detritus that was deposited nearby.

No one is coming to save you.

Now see if you can figure why I think being familiar with Ebola, and the field-expedient protection for it, might be a bit more germane than some of the witless wonders think it is.

There's a typhus outbreak, right effing now, in Los Angeles' City Hall. Today.
From sewer rats, who gain access to the buildings via thoughtfully constructed rain gutters that provide a highway from curb rain gutters all the way to the roof, and then into the building through ventilation ducting and such.

What's your contingency plan for typhoid, dysentery, plague, and dozens of other civilization-long killers of man, going back to the deep B.C. era.?

PTA, baby:

Prevention
Treatment
Abatement

Vector control, pest eradication, and public health are suddenly on your plate too, as lord of your own domain, in any sort of disruption, large or small, short-term or generational.
Washing your hands is good, but there's more than that to sanitation.

Fail to plan: Plan to fail.

Fail = slow, lingering death for you and yours, shriveled, crapping your guts out, amidst an uncaring universe.

You will see this material again.
Next time, the pop quiz may be with your life and your tribes' as the ante.

Choose wisely.

Intelligence - Emergency Planning: BESTMAPS

Sam Culper at Forward Observer has launched FOTV.
The first video is under 10 minutes of introduction to an acronym tool for what you should be looking at to understand your own area, for any sort of contingency planning, from mild to wild.

Go. Watch. Learn.

Give 'em a thumbs up, or a subscribe, and if you need it, tag along for future installments.
You're getting pearls here, for free, minus the time and the cost of streaming electrons.

Leaving fruit like this unharvested is like leaving money on the table in Vegas: simply not done.

Hard At Work

 

Local, Local, Local.

Here's A Better SOTU

h/t Daily Timewaster

A picture worth 1000 words, and impossible to rebut.

All you NeverTrumpers out there, give us a holler when you get tired of winning.

Saturday VLOG List

I have a wall of great movies, some classic TV, and no connection to broadcast cable nor TV, for going on 20 years now, nor any intention of changing that. I miss broadcast entertainment like I miss going for a walk amidst the radioactive wastelands around Chernobyl.

I've lost nothing but endless inane commercials, and increasingly mediocre programming, plus movies I already own, except cut to ribbons into maddeningly short ADHD segments.

And I don't pay $50-100/month to companies that hate me, my principles, my beliefs, and my entire way of life, and spend the profits from their horrible service to browbeat me every chance they get.

Instead, I cherry pick a random assortment of regular YouTube channels, for programming that is entirely satisfying, relatively commercial-free, or nearly so, and which I can watch as and when I feel like it, pause and restart, or binge watch for hours of internet wormholing.

If you are in any way inclined to any of that, I offer the following gem-worthy finds, for your entertainment pleasure.

This ranking is deliberate, and in my personal order of entertainment value:

1) my little homestead

A family of six (and a new in-law since last summer) building their earthbag empire somewhere in Paradise Valley AZ. Find their earliest forays, and start there. Or watch the consolidated hour-plus marathons of an entire project stitched together. They post weekly updates most Fridays at 6PM PST, and their content goes back 10 years. If there were YouTube Emmys, they should win one annually.

2) Life Uncontained

A couple who sold out of their FL home, moved to the grandparents' ranch somewhere in east-central TX, and are building their dream home, one bite at a time, for just about a year. They expected 2000 subscribers to their adventure. They're now at about 100,000. There's a reason for that.

3) My Self Reliance

Ontario, Canada building contractor Shawn James has been vlogging on breathtaking Canadian travels for three years, and working on his cabin from scratch in the wilds of the Great White North for going on two, since March of 2017. He does it laconically, and then with a what-did-we-learn-today homily at the end. And with food. You will gain weight watching his series. If you can't sit through episodes of This Old House and New Yankee Workshop, and then transition into watching this guy craft a log cabin on dirt from scratch using all hand tools, I don't want to know you.

4) Living Big In A Tiny House

Bryce Langston is a Kiwi travelling the world finding people making small homes fantastic, and documenting it better than the dreck on pay cable. Whether you're thinking of downsizing your life, just starting out, curious for ideas that work in bigger spaces too, or just killing 10-15 minutes at a time, there isn't a single video going back 5 years he's posted that isn't worth the time to watch it. Two personal favorites: Caboose House bed & breakfast cottage in Portland, and the farmer's NZ Hobbit-style Eco Cave house. When I'm building Camp Snoopy (starting this fall, I hope) see if I don't steal some of both ideas before I die.

I visit several prepper channels, most well-known to folks, but no one preps 24/7/365/forever, self-evidently, so their content is spottier.

But sooner or later, everyone builds a house. Or wishes they could.
Man is a house-building animal.
These channels scratch that itch until you can get to it yourself, give you ideas, and something to watch on the days you're too beat to work at it yourself.
We all need some down time.

These are unhesitatingly recommended for your leisure moments, in whatever chunks of time you might devote to them.