Modern Day Village Idiots: The Eloi

Wilder: The Kids Aren't Alright: Mental Health

 Sorry JW, but you're looking through the wrong end of the telescope here.

"44% of high school students feel persistent sadness or hopelessness"

So, have you talked with current high school students?

That only 44% feel persistent sadness or hopelessness tells me that at least another 40% have a vastly inflated opinion of themselves and their abilities.

They can't read (or write) a note in cursive. They can't tell time on a dial-face timepiece. They don't know their own phone number. They can't make exact change for a $10 order without taking off their shoes, and calling two of their lifelines.

For F--K SAKE man, I see this Every. Single. Day!

This is simple sh*t we were taught to do by first grade, and these are high school juniors and seniors. Or for that matter, freshmen and sophomores in college, AKA 13th and 14th grade.

They can't write a book report, can't construct a coherent paragraph, can't multiply to 12x12 without a TI-84 and seven lectures on higher mathematics, and they treat the ability to sit through a 90-minute movie without talking or checking their phones like it's a freaking Jedi Masterclass.

They can tell you what Taylor Swift wore to the Video Music Awards, but they couldn't pick Venus de Milo, Mona Lisa, or the Parthenon out of a line-up.

They can't put any three basic major historical events in order, find any city, state, or country on a globe (even if you spot them a hint of which continent it's on), or in most cases, find their own asses with both hands, an anatomical chart, and a rear-view mirror.

If you stranded them 5 miles into the desert between a rotary dial phonebooth and a stack of change, and a gassed-up car with a stick shift and the key in the ignition, 99% of them would die right there of starvation and exposure.

They should all be flunked back to kindergarten at their high school graduations, and then retry each level until they attain mastery at an 80% score. About 1% would be done in a week. For the rest, they'd be there seven days a week from 6AM to noon. Then they'd be given not a diploma, but a pair of stout leather work gloves, to dig ditches, shovel shit, and sort garbage at the dump from noon until 8PM, to earn room and board - in a tent, fed the same menu prison inmates get - to take them permanently out of mommy and daddy's tender embraces. No cell phones. No calculators. For anyone not advancing any grade level after two tries, the daily beatings would commence. Every fall they'd replace migrant workers picking vegetables in the fields until they graduated fair and square. In the winter they'd shovel snow on the roads by hand, and in summer they'd be spreading tar and filling potholes, until they finally graduated. Then and only then would they be granted the full privileges of citizenship. They could escape only upon graduation, or by enlistment in the military (the Air Force wouldn't count, and they don't take non-h.s. grads anyways). Those choosing the military option would not be allowed out of the military until they'd earned at least a GED.

When they finally graduated from one or the other for real, they'd have something about which to feel happy and proud, probably for the first time in their lives. Universities and community colleges would cease to offer remedial primary and secondary school education, and go back to teaching actual college subjects full-time.

Until something close to that happens, most high school students should be told they're the exact idiots they are 24/7/365 until they can disprove it, with a properly-footnoted 20-page hand-written research paper, and deliver a defense of that thesis before the faculty of the local high school.

The numbers you speak of come from the most mollycoddled bunch of unskilled lackwits in the history of the world. (We can talk about the mass floggings and/or tar-and-featherings of the teachers and administrators who helped create them at some point in the future.)

Fans of science fiction know these kids as H.G. Wells' Eloi.

Anything which makes them feel like exactly the oxygen thieves they are is a good thing.

Anything which whips and beats them towards the finish line of improving that situation and becoming functional human beings is even better. 

Dept. Of We Told You So: RTWT It isn't hard to be less of a frothing lunatic than Ann Barnhardt (the bulging eyes should be a cluebat there) but there's not a single thing in what she says in this piece we can disagree with.

The Lumpenproletariat Explosion

 

Anyone who does this for more than two minutes per day
can rightly be regarded as a thoroughgoing moron.
Every single time. There, I said the obvious.

Amidst a breakroom discussion with co-workers the other day, I had occasion to pause at the blank looks from most of them regarding a cinematic moment in Scent Of A Woman. (For Common Core grads, as I'll illustrate, it's the movie - phenomenally good, btw - for which Al Pacino won the Best Actor Oscar in 1993). It's not exactly trench warfare at Verdun, Magna Carta, or even Stonehenge, let alone the late Pleistocene Era, but it may as well have been for the vacant stares going on.

Al Who...?

"Wait a minute, show of hands: For how many of you is waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay back in 1993 "before your time"?"

Every single hand in the room but one.

Christ on a pogo stick. I grew up with average kids who knew the plots of TV shows from 10 years before they were born, because they were still re-running them every day. I'm even pretty sure SOAW might have been on TV a few million times since '93 too.

I'm conversant on both cultural phenomena like movies and music, and actual historical events that happened long before I was born, even long before my grandparents were born, and it's not a rare feat, I swear. FFS, they make kids take history for about 10 years, even in the idiot academies that pass for public schools.

Or so you might have thought. You have to wonder WTF they cover in those classrooms, but quite frankly I'm afraid to look. I'm pretty sure that the Kardashians are an AP Class for college credit.

Apparently, if it didn't happen on Netflix or Twitter, or since 2010, it never happened.

This is why Jay Leno could ask basic grade school questions at malls and on college campuses and never fail to find 99% dumbasses, from wall-to-wall, every other night for over twenty years on The Tonight Show. At this point, having been off it for 8 years, it's a wonder anyone under 40 even knew who he was when the story came out last week that he was injured in his garage. And if anyone did the same bit now, no one would get it, because they wouldn't know the answers either. Unless they asked their grandfathers. Which is as it should be for people who think Rosetta Stone is just a language app for their computer, because those are the Top Ten search results on Google. ("Wait; you mean there's an actual Rosetta Stone? Did they name it after the app?" Kill me now.)

That we have suffered to produce such utterly but proudly ignorant and wholly uncurious generations (plural!) of lackwits, and raise them past majority, completely unaware of anything that doesn't come up on their YouTube queue, is a national scandal.

But clearly, I've reached the awkward age: not as old as old people, and not as blisteringly dumb as young people. 

For the 95% of the Baby Duck Generations to whom it applies: Get off your goddamned phones, and crack a friggin' book, FFS! Life started before you were born, and some of that stuff is actually kind of important. Like, even more important than Taylor Swift's new album. For reals. Crazy, right?

Yes, I'm shooting Baby Ducks in a barrel. Because they're not going to shoot themselves, however much we might wish otherwise.

SoCal Man Arrested For Allegedly Threatening Dictionary Co.

 

Over their definition of "female".

It wasn't me.

Dude: decaf. Prozac might not be a bad idea either.

And definitely should be looking up dumbass.

For more serious matters than this, some timeless advice from Tuco:

That Answers That

 h/t Irish

Tell me again why you think re-opening
public schools is a good idea.

What's Happened To All The Flu Hoaxers And Pollyanas???

Keep clutching at straws. Don't take this as heart-attack serious.

Keep insisting that the people who analyzed this, and predicted exactly what you're getting now, are panic-mongers and doomsayers.

THAT will help.

It's not like anyone warned you this was a Shit Mardi Gras three weeks ago, or suggested it was going to go there a lot sooner than the soopergeniuses and soothsayers said it would.
And told you that when this exploded, you were going to lose all health care for everyone for the duration, anywhere it blew out society's safety seals.

O, waitaminute...

And, hey, LOOK!:

Show of hands: Anybody out there still think China's number of cases and deaths reported to the West was anything close to reality? Or was the sudden disappearance of 20M Chinese cellphone users after a month or two of crematoriums there running 24/7 perhaps a wee bit closer to the truth?

So, does this mean that just maaaaaaaaaaaybe it's not
"Just the flu, bro" anymore?

Even among the sh*t-for-brains and cementhead demographic?
{Nope. They'll be repeating that the Titanic is unsinkable, and ride it right to bottom of the ocean, with one helluva surprised look on their faces. Pretty much like everything else in their lives.}


Those of you who didn't f**k around then, or even earlier, well done. Hope you ride out the pandemic, and the 57 layers of follow-on effect madness, which is the far bigger problem, and make it safely to the other side. This is going to be a much longer thing, and a lot harder, than most people have planned for, or even imagined. Steel yourselves for that reality, and the reaction of the Village Idiots when they realize you're okay, and they're screwed. And if the opportunity arises to redouble your efforts on anything needful, make the most of it.

The rest of you, well, Play Stupid Games, Win Stupid Prizes.

Thanks For Wasting Your Time

The bright red tactical woobie is a nice touch.

Well done, Tard Army.
With a total lack of planning, and a 25% chance, you had a "success".

IOW, you didn't kill yourselves or anybody else (and hey, sincere condolences to the wingnuts and "burn everything" jackhole keyboard commandos who were salivating for just that), or shoot yourselves in both feet.
While they were in your mouth.
If we set the bar that low, this was a "successful" rally.

And if you'd stayed home, how much of that could you have accomplished...?
That would be the same exact "success".
Wizard move there.

I mean, I hate to hurt your pwecious feeeeeewings, but we had guys in boot camp who managed to crank out three whole pull-ups in Week One, all by themselves, and I'm a little hazy, but I'm pretty sure no drill instructors gave them any awards for that.

But at least you didn't get anyone hurt, or rack up a body count, this time.
So there's that.

And so sorry for the Perennially Butthurt, but there was nothing "brave" about doing something this futile, pointless, and stupid. This was a live-action YouTube video of someone doing some jackassical stunt, and not doing the full monty faceplant. That's not brave, it's lucky. And foolish beyond description.

You yakked about how you needed to "face down" TPTB.
And how you had to exercise your First Amendment rights.
But it turns out they were never in any jeopardy, and the minions of TPTB were the souls of discretion and politeness. So if anything, you legitimized them more than yourselves. So now the questions for your organizers will be along the lines of "Why all the hyperbolic rhetoric and rifle-waving when the authorities showed you nothing but full respect and courtesy? Aren't you just a bunch of hysterical nitwits for blowing things all out of proportion?"

And then, you'll be standing there mouths agape, and nothing in your hands but your shortcomings.

Best after-action on the internet on this goatrope, bar none, per commenter riverrider over at Borepatch's blog:

"forgotten tomorrow and the dems will pass their agenda without a blink."

Zipper up, and pull your heads out.

So, what did you actually accomplish?

Did Gov. Blackface Babykiller "come to Jesus" and announce he's seen the light, and will abandon his plans to take your guns?
(The answer to that is "Fuck no!")
So that's a total fail.

Will the VA legislature stop passing gun restrictions in Old Dominion?
"Fuck no!"
Another fail.

Waitwaitwait.
No votes changed?
No.
No bills pulled?
No.
No gun grabbing stopped?
No.

(REALITY) VA Democratic lawmakers— including House Speaker Eileen Filler-Corn and Senate Majority Leader Dick Saslaw — told AP the rally wouldn’t impact their plans to pass gun control measures, including universal background checks and a one-handgun-purchase-a-month limit. Democrats say tightening Virginia’s gun laws will make communities safer and help prevent mass shootings

Well-played, Tards. So you accomplished absolutely nothing that would have advanced your cause, but you did wave your guns (and your dicks) around outdoors on a chilly winter's day on a three day weekend.

How much is that you accomplished?



We could stop there, but we're on a roll.

Did state and federal agencies hoover up license plates, cell phone metadata, pictures, and other metric fuck-tons of intelligence data concerning this rally?
"Oh hell yes!"
Epic Intelligence fail.

Did VCDL squander unknown resources pulling this off at the bare minimum level of "not shooting ourselves in the foot"?
"Oh hell yes!"
Logistics fail.

Did all concerned on the 2A side waste another month they could have been organizing at the local (local!local!) level, for what to do when TPTB actually  come for your guns?
"Oh hell yes!"
Training fail.

How many people will think this was your whole wad, and lose interest after your blazing "success"? Legions, who'll never show up for anything again.
Personnel fail.

How did any of this go according to your detailed plan, as opposed to just happening to work out because this time, you got lucky?
Command and leadership fail.

So, your command and leadership, personnel, intelligence, training, and logistics on the TardEx all got a "F". (These functions may ring a vague bell with some people.)
Take those grades together, and guess what the grade will be the next time you're evaluated by OPFOR, for keeps.

You're (still) a joke. A punchline.
Wait...you thought this was over today?
It hasn't even begun.
And the only club in your golf bag is "Winging it".

So it's another month later now, your war chest is emptier, and the legislative juggernaut is completely unaffected by anyone in VA stomping around outside a vacant governor's mansion and an empty capitol building, on a three-day holiday weekend.

" 'Murica! Fuck yeah!"

So to recap, no tea was thrown into the harbor.
No redcoats were fired upon.
But you want full credit, because this time, once in a row, since ever, no one got shot in the face for holding a snowball fight.

Walk tall.

Imagine the press release if this had been 1944.

(NORMANDY - June 6) Today, a massive armada of 4000 ships and 100,000 men sailed up and down the French coast, taunting the Nazis on shore, dropping their trousers, and slapping their bottoms, without actually landing. Asked how this was helpful to the Allied cause, Gen. Eisenhower said, "This shows the resolve of our side to fearlessly taunt the enemy when he was really not paying attention anyways. And, as a bonus, although we squandered hundreds of tons of fuel oil for our ships, we point out that none of them sunk, ran aground, nor crashed into each other, so we're declaring victory for the day."

Fooking tactical genius level videogame skillz there, boys and girls.
Pin medals on yourselves.

A run right up the middle, for 0 yards gained. 2nd down and 10. Woohoo.
But but but...we didn't fumble and cough up the ball!!!

So hey, thanks for doing nothing, and courting disaster unsuccessfully, while providing hundreds of photo ops for the media to use for the next year or two, giving the fusion centers an extra Christmas load of intel to chew on, while hindering what you're supposedly against not one fucking whit, nor organizing seriously to oppose it exactly 0% over where you were in December. You wasted a month you can't spare on a pointless stunt.

This is how baboons fight: everyone hoots and hollers, and some shit gets flung, but no one actually accomplishes anything.

And the Feebs successfully tagged you for white supremacy and trying to bring machineguns to the rally four days in advance, totally justifying - in the eyes of the media, the opposition, and no small number of uncommitted Normies you're theoretically interested in swaying to your side - the "whackjobs with guns" state of emergency.

A few more pyrhhic "victories" like this, and the war's over, right guys?

Huzzah.

One day, someone on the 2A side may realize this isn't a game, and note that neither time nor resources are infinite, and actually start behaving as if they ought to do something more effective than emulating the lamester hippies of the 1960s, and actually, y'know, accomplish something more constructive than having a gun love-in.

But the overwhelming likelihood at that point, is he'll also realize he's dealing with retards nominally on his side, give up, and just roll over and play dead. Or head for the hills, and live in a bunker.

On a state level, all you could organize was "Hey, everybody, show up on Monday in three weeks and don't step on your dicks or act like jerks." Probably 90% of them managed that. Don't pat yourselves on the back too hard. Millions of people manage that every day, when they show up for movies or go to the mall, with no supervision whatsoever, and no lead time.

To date, your only real forte is at the local/county level.
Focus on building that.
If Gov. Babykiller comes (or, more realistically, sends his minions) to get your guns, they aren't going to give you three weeks' notice beforehand.

Based on this morning, and everything to date, you'll do f**k-all NOTHING, because doing anything on that day is far beyond your barest capabilities.

That penny will drop for you, but probably only when it's too late, and they're already kicking down your front door.

You didn't win anything today, because you were once again playing in the street.
And nothing you want will be won there, least of all by holding clusterf**k circle-jerks.
No matter how many of them you do.

ALLCON

Note to ALL CONcerned about the current Ebola outbreak in Equatorial Africa:

No, REALLY!
Funny as it is from 8000 mi. away (for the moment) I am being absolutely serious.
It is not me being a knee-jerk iconoclast, but rather me just telling it like it is.

Remember that whenever you read about anyone in Congo, Uganda, Kenya, Somalia, etc. issuing statements about allocating resources to control this, or any other, epidemic thereabouts.

And before you get too culturally superior, ponder back and recall the proclamations from multi-degreed @$$tards at CDC and WHO about this, as well as government spokesholes, just a few years ago, or even five minutes ago.

When you start to view most of TPTB like you'd view health advice from an African witch-doctor, you'll be red-pilled as fuck, and then your education in Reality can begin in earnest.

If you cannot deal with that, take the blue pill, go back to your cubicle, and enjoy life in the Matrix.

Boring is The New Black. And It Always Has Been.

I like John Wilder's blog.

Can't help posting this clip. I love it.

That's why I added it to the Blogroll over to the right --->
the first day I found it. (And binge-read about two years' worth.)

Today's offering is another good one. He talks about a familiar Hollywood trope.
And I share his opinion, yet again. Our agreement so frequently is an indisputable measure of how brilliant he is.
(Although I do not share his fascination with PEZ. I would just buy a bag of candy, and forego the ritual of loading tiny candies into a sawn-off dispenser decorated with someone's head, because I'm a cut-to-the-chase kind of guy.)

Today's post put me in mind to reply there. But it got too long, so he lost a long comment, and I get a blog post. And now, so do you.

One of many differences between Hollywood scripts and Reality v1.0:

IRL, the hero-become-bum doesn't wake up, decide to turn himself around, and become Rocky.
He lives in squalor, catches a cold, works it into pneumonia, and he dies, right there in that rat -infested alley.
Every. Single. Time.

People IRL with their crap together never become the bum in the alley, because they're not that stupid to begin with.

To stab another trope in the heart, they don't get on the suicide mission with the Hero, not even with a parachute.
Because they never get on the Plane Ride Of Death to begin with.

Kids have fairytale storybooks.
Grown ups have movies.
Some of them are valuable, accurate, and teach valuable life lessons, or they're just hella good entertainment that scratches our cultural itch for a happy ending. (Not many of those lately, but the few we get tend to be exquisite.)

But the best life lessons don't make good theatre.

Stay in school.
Graduate.
Get married before you have kids.
Stay married.
Live within your means.
Save for what's important.
Make prudent preparations for tougher times.
Don't play stupid games; don't win stupid prizes.

B-O-R-I-N-G.
Amiright?

There's a stack of those scripts in a landfill, because no one would pay money for such predictably obvious common sense.

Hollywood (like some blogs) has learned that Bad Decisions Make Good Stories.

"Tragedy is me stubbing my toe.
Comedy is you falling off a cliff."
- Mel Brooks

We've noted in these pages that the ironclad recipe for every drama, good and bad, is always the same as the template for every episode of Rescue 9-1-1:
a) Intractable forces of Nature
b) Human stupidity

E.g.:

"A rattlesnake crawls into the yard.
Marge left her three-year-old toddler playing outside unsupervised, so she could concentrate on her soap opera.
Let's see what happens next."
Or

"The Coast Guard forecast a full gale warning.
But Biff has a shiny new 25' cabin cruiser to take out for his first day on the water, with no radio or safety gear.
What could possibly go wrong?"

That's not just Rescue 9-1-1 melodrama, it's every day life.
I work in the ER. Ask me how I know.

"An M-80 has a substantial amount of explosive force.
Timmy elects to hold a lit one in his hand anyways, because beer.
What happens next?
Tune in tomorrow to hear the sad ending of 'My New Nickname Is Lefty.'"

This sort of reality-that-isn't-news is true in courthouses everywhere.
And jail booking desks.
And unemployment counters.
And loan shark offices.
And every search and rescue call center, since about ever.
And casinos from coast to coast.
And on and on and on.

Take either component A or B away, and you lose the whole drama.
(And hey, good luck getting Nature not to be intractable.)
So that leaves the one variable that can always be changed.

Skid Row is full of people who jumped into "B", with both feet.

It's never to early to not make poor life choices.

But the world is full of people who realize that after they jump into the enclosure to pet the polar bears.

We call these people "examples".
And if fortune smiles on their efforts, we call them Darwin Award Winners, First Class (no offspring).
Because those genes aren't going to cull themselves.

Stupid Idea Dept.

Story.

The State Of Stupidia

Warning: Smarter than actual sales help.
Hole in head optional.

Myself, at the local chocolatier's establishment yesternight:
"I'd like half a dozen thingamajigs, please."

Retarded Minion of Stupidity employed by said chocolatier:
"How many thingamajigs would you like?"

Myself:
"Half a dozen, please."

Retarded Minion, now looking thoroughly bumflustercated:
"Um...how many would that be?"

Myself, thankful that Retarded Minion is juuuuuust barely beyond range of a polite roundhouse slap to the side of the head sufficient to loosen fillings:
"That would be six thingamajigs, please."

Retarded Minion, flooded with obvious relief at being freed from further mathemagical distress and consternation:
"Ah!...Yes, six, got it."

Gobsmacked: Not only an actual thing, but frequently also the solution to the problem.

The bill for the thingamajigs was then announced as $6.96, whereupon I handed her a $5 bill and two singles, and I swear for a moment it looked as if she was going to have to take off her shoes to count, and failing that ploy, be forced to use her lifeline to call the engineers at NASA to correctly calculate that she owed me 4¢ in change thereof.

Which is by way of noting that she was old enough to vote, and English-fluent, but that clearly second grade mathematics had completely kicked her ass, and she should be beaten with a stout rod until she could master the fundamentals of basic math.

That the common phrase "half a dozen" baffled the blistering fuck out of her suggests that the manager there is similarly a lackwit in urgent need of a new job in either the custodial maintenance or street-level recycling industries.

Retarded Minion's (undoubtedly Common Core public education) teachers, to the last one, should be horsewhipped until their flesh is ripped off and the bones show, and then put up against a wall and shot.
Slowly, starting at the toes, and working up to more important parts.
Put in charge of the firing party, I should make them each count the rounds as they were fired.

I swear to Buddha, I'm going back there tomorrow, and if she's still employed there, I'm going to pay her with $2 bills and $1 coins, just to watch her head explode against the walls.

And these sorts of fucktards are going to get $15/hr in a couple of years?
The economy will collapse. Civilization is doomed. You read it here first.

Ron White was wrong: I can fix this kind of stupid, but you've got to allow me to use a big enough hammer.

At any rate, a couple of more of these incidents, and I'm going to abandon all civility, and start going full-on As Good As It Gets on these morons, to reduce them to tears as a policy, and sport.

Related: Peter runs into similar distress at the local hospital.

Primary Sources

h/t Irish

In history, secondary sources are people from a later time talking about persons, events, and so on. Infinitely preferable are primary sources, which are the people in question themselves, and their contemporaries talking about themselves, and their times and events,  and as they understand them at the time in question, and in their own words.

So in that light, courtesy of a tip in comments, someone - Cult Of The 1st Amendment's blog, in fact - has screen-grabbed the relevant pages from Kavanaugh accuser Christine ("Crissy") Blasey Ford's high school yearbooks, ("SCRIBE"), from 1982-1984, which would correspond to then-Blassey's sophomore through senior years of high school.

That they did so is both remarkable, and fortuitous, because they've been subsequently scrubbed from the Internet, once Ford's fairytales gained traction with the moonbats.
How...convenient. But too slow, progtards. You can't stop the signal, and the internet is forever.

UPDATE: They tried to scrub the above site.
But You Can't Stop The Signal. You Can Never Stop The Signal.
(And if the second site goes away, I grabbed 'em to post myself.)

I simply commend you go there and RTWT.

"On Monday Sept. 17^th, Christine Blasey Ford’s high school yearbooks suddenly disappeared from the web. I read them days before, knew they would be scrubbed, and saved them. Why did I know they would be scrubbed? Because if roles were reversed, and Christine Blasey Ford had been nominated for the Supreme Court by President Trump, the headline by the resistance would be this:

CHRISTINE BLASEY FORD AND THE DRUNKEN WHITE PRIVILEGED RACIST PLAYGIRLS OF HOLTON-ARMS.

And it would be an accurate headline. That’s why the yearbooks have been scrubbed. They are a testament to the incredible power these girls had over their teachers, parents and the boys of Georgetown Prep, Landon and other schools in the area. In the pages below, you will see multiple photos and references to binge drinking and the accompanying joy of not being able to remember any of it.

These yearbooks are, therefore, relevant to the national investigation now being conducted in the media, in homes, and in the halls of Congress. And they should not have been scrubbed. If Brett Kavanaugh’s yearbooks are fair game, so are these.

And you will wonder while reading them, why the hell did the faculty approve of these yearbooks? Why did the parents take out paid ads in these yearbooks? Animal House had nothing on the infamous “Holton party scene”.

The resistance media has been singularly focused on Brett Kavanaugh’s high school yearbooks, which imply that he got drunk and threw up. There’s no need to imply anything from the Holton-Arms yearbooks. It’s all there in focus, and the written word too. All of the sordid details as approved for publication by a “look the other way” faculty. And now it’s available for historical/evidentiary review."

I am roughly contemporary with both parties in the situation, and similarly, attended a small religious prep high school, though nowhere near the prep school prestige of the ones in question, ours being both co-ed, and actually religious, as well as over in the provincial left coast, rather than merely ivy-covered and self-importantly "formative" for the East Coast Ivy League universities that think they should run the world.

Suffice it to say that had we contemplated, let alone practiced, the open drunkenness and debauchery proudly proclaimed from the pages of Blassey(-Ford)'s high school days, there would have been a number of show trials, with students, parents, and teachers roasting in literal flames at a stake. It would have been a full-school assembly for the purpose.

The level of casual moral laxity, bigotry, lewdness, drunkenness, and general decadence in the weekly prep school party scene that was clearly the norm in Tidewater prep school culture was something I didn't even see at state university over here in the provincial left coast near the same time, until one dipped into the frat jugheads' sewers, which were mainly a homage to Animal House, except with half the wit and twice the alcohol.

So it becomes clear that when Blassey(-Ford) claims a hazy memory, there was clearly more than her alleged "one beer" involved, but when she says she was afraid of her parents finding out, one can only observe that they clearly never saw her yearbooks for her entire sojourn through high school at a time when them paying tens of thousands of dollars must have been a lot of money. Had mine proclaimed that sort of lifestyle as openly as her Scribe yearbook did, right on the pages in plain sight, the parents and faculty would have taken a flamethrower to the publication, and people would have been expelled, after an Inquisition that would have made Torquemada visibly pale. The faculty Yearbook advisor would have been subjected to thumbscrews, having the skin flayed off in layers, and drowning, screaming, while being subsequently dipped into a vat of bactine or rubbing alcohol, at a school assembly, and his charred remains would have been quartered, and still on a worldwide pilgrimage of known Christendom to this very day, pour encourager les autres. 

Then they'd have gotten pipes and blowtorches, as well as torches and pitchforks, and gone after the party-givers and their parents. The mass graves would be the stuff of legend, had such events ever happened in proximity to my contemporaries.

Conversely, we have Kavanaugh, the product of a Catholic prep school at the same time, regarded then and now as a model of propriety, by every witness (by the literal dozens) they can find, at a time when he was in his teen years, after passing through six proctological FBI background examinations before now, without so much as whiff of scandal or impropriety. That doesn't "just happen".

I've been through one such FBI Special Background Investigation, so let me tell you, the experience has to be seen to be believed.

I therefore have no problem, before even getting to the vague and suspect accusations of an avowed leftard SJW pleading alcohol and PTSD when I say, she's simply making shit up.
Seeing the atmosphere that spawned her during her formative years, it's pretty obvious how she got to be the damaged and defective fabulist she's become, and why she's such a psychological basket case. She wasn't sexually assaulted by a young Brett Kavanaugh, she's simply the product of a toxic upbringing and exposure to things grown adults should avoid, things that were in plain sight by all available evidence.

The unavoidable question isn't what Kavanaugh did or didn't do (which is overwhelmingly "nothing whatsoever that is alleged ever actually happened"); the question is:
"Crissy, where in hell were your parents all those years??"

Her high school years, in the words of her classmates, are exactly how you get such fucked-up and morally defective people, who grow up to become the lunatic fringe of the Democrat Party.

The brighter kids in the day figured that out in about a minute, freshman year.
The ones I still follow from my class have doctorates teaching at military academies, run aerospace multinationals, cable networks, and pastor mega-churches.

The slow learners became a generation of Crissy Fords.

And when someone never learned right from wrong, is it really that surprising that 36 years later, they're social and psychological basket cases, and they still can't tell truth from lies?

For The Science-Challenged Morons Out There...

This is why they're not admissible in any court in the land, why anyone with two brain cells regards them as the equivalent of phrenology, and why only people with nothing else to do pimp them: if they had anything actually factual and reliable, they'd use that.

But when your witness has a 35-year memory lapse, only brings the story up when it's politically expedient, and the details over time are inconsistent, and completely at odds with every known reality that would support or undermine the story, it's all they've got.

Sticking a flower into a pile of manure doesn't make it smell any better.

Sic Semper SJWs

All originals. Like there was any doubt. Enjoy.
 

This embiggens. Feel free to share it far and wide. What's mine is yours. - Aesop

BONUS!:



Play Stupid Games...

h/t Kenny

Mordor On The Potomac (AFP) – Washington authorities said they will ramp up the capital city’s emergency level when white nationalists and counterprotesters demonstrate Sunday at the same park outside the White House.
The National Park Service said Wednesday it issued a permit for a rally in Lafayette Park by Unite the Right, the white supremacist network that organized a protest in Charlottesville, Virginia last year that turned deadly.
But the service said it has also issued a permit at the same park on the same day for counterprotesters, a move that appeared to raise the prospects of a violent clash right in front of the White House.

The leftard baboons kicked the organizing idiots' asses in Charlottesville last time, by official design and deliberate plan, and the same bunch of bubba-brained idiots don't seem to have learned the lesson most of us did in kindergarten: not to play in the street.

This is just jackassery boob bait for the retards on both sides.
All it will accomplish is a brief rush at the local trauma centers, and overtime for the cops dispatched to see that both sides leave bloody. And plenty of red meat stock footage for the fakenews media monkeys, wholly unconstrained by any connection with reality or truth - just the way the media likes it.

Bonus question:
Show of hands from the class: who knows the current number of CCWs issued in DC?
Anyone?
Beuller?
Ferris Beuller...?

This sort of Dipshits On Parade All-Star Game should be laughed at by anyone with a lick of common sense.

The only excuse to show up would be to monkeywrench the counterprotester rent-a-mob's busses, making it that much harder to find any companies to sucker into working the next one, and forcing those jackwagons who came in on them to walk home.

The rent-a-mob participants should also be followed, photographed, and individually doxxed online, which makes getting an astroturf crowd that much harder next time too.

And if the clowns in charge of the main event didn't set that up and staff it a month before pulling that rally permit, they're too short for this ride, by about 50 IQ points.

There's a reason set-piece battles went out of vogue by anyone both serious and intelligent about 200 years ago.

And when obvious troll-bait organizations like Unite The Fraud are forced to try the same tricks as a year ago, they're out of ideas. Expect a baker's dozen Confederate, Nazi, and neo-Nazi/white supremacist flags to be on display right in front of the press box, and the DC police to stand back and barricade the combatants in close proximity while they watch and do nothing.

Who TF would show up for that soireé with an IQ higher than their shoe size?!?

So, by definition, you're only going to draw people who can't make the cut-off on that selection.

Well-played: they've now sunk to organizing MMA cage matches at the Special Olympics.