Monthly Archives: September 2019

The NYT Signed Signed Its Suicide Note Through Its Latest Kavanaugh Debacle

Free speech is the cornerstone of civilization.I’m as ardent as anyone can be in preserving and maintaining an absolutely unfettered freedom of the press, expression and thought. Free from government licensure, regulation, restriction and the prohibition and proscription in its exercise. The First Amendment stands for such; why do you think it’s the first? And with the Internet and social media under attack from within, primarily internecine platform censor grabs, I’m even more acutely aware of the necessity of unlimited speech and expression and thought. I want to hear and read and see everything that I care to and look away or turn off that which I’m not interested in experiencing. That simple. But it’s my choice.

This topic means a lot to me professionally.I remember being in the front lines of terrestrial talk radio when it meant something and when it was edgy and dangerous and relevant. Yes, I was there. Front and center when talk was illustrious and luxurious and fin and just great. When a nascent Rush Limbaugh could be Rush Limbaugh. When he and it mattered. And what fueled such was freedom to speak and freedom to offend. I remember when we were faced with the horrors of a revamped Fairness Doctrine which was anything but fair. Why? To counter Rush and his spate of Rush wannabes that he inspired and hatched. Everything was conservative talk, so much so it made me sick. But it was fresh and fun. Liberal and progressive talk was left to the mealy-mouthed dorks and drops of NPR, who are still there by the by. But the blowback was a sign we were important and that it mattered. Remember, you only take flak when you’re over the target. I remember when there was something called shock jocks, when there was actually something shocking about what they said and not rekindled and warmed-over drivel and drool from coprolalic children spewing and spitting bile and filth. They actually shocked. Today, well, it’s a bunch of programming retreads and hangers-on who still think it’s 1983. Alas, but I digress. Ahem.

Dead serious here, Sparky!This is not just no a series of shite observations here, this is fact. And reality. I mean this. Free speech cannot be abridged but with free speech comes responsibility and liability. And there’s plenty of the latter to apportion to the humanoid pustules of the NYT. So it’s with great sadness that I hereby recommend that the New York Times be ordered shuttered, shut down, shut up, padlocked and condemned by government fiat, imprimatur, order and action once and for all.

I’M KIDDING! (For the most part.)

Journalistic malpractice.But what these dastards and bastards have done to Justice Kavanaugh is simply without peer, shame and incomprehensibly unconscionable. How the once mighty Gray Lady fell and stooped to this I’ll never know. Perhaps the writing was on the wall when they hired that ferret Dean Baquet, who if I don’t know better was sent in clandestinely to destroy the paper by abandoning the rudiments and undergirding of plain old journalism. That’s right, journalism! Look, have whatever opinion you want. No sweat. Wax socialistic, anachronistic, solipsist, Zoroastrian, Communist, proto-fascist, neoliberal . . . it doesn’t matter. That’s your right. That’s called an editorial. Have at it. Knock your socks off. But when you report it as news — incontrovertible, verified, actual, true and verified news — that’s something quite different. My fellow patriot, what we’re seeing here with the treatment leveled against Kavanaugh is mind-boggling. Even to me. Let me provide the following gravamen, if I may.

The rendition will slay you. Now the story goes something like this. But first, let’s pick up from the Times’s retraction or explanation or clarification or whatever the hell you want to call this. My guess, preemptive girding in preparation of certain litigation from Justice Kavanaugh.

Editors’ Note:Sept. 15, 2019

An earlier version of this article, which was adapted from a forthcoming book, did not include one element of the book’s account regarding an assertion by a Yale classmate that friends of Brett Kavanaugh pushed his penis into the hand of a female studentat a drunken dorm party. The book reports that the female student declined to be interviewed and friends say that she does not recall the incident. That information has been added to the article.”[ES]

WARNING: The following is NSFW.Let me warn you. This is not for the mild-mannered or faint of heart. I must address penis protocol and the facts of Kavanaugh’s latest imaginary indiscretion from the past that no one can remember but only thinks they heard someone mention that they heard someone remember they heard. This involves frank discussion. Or something. (And yes, I see the frank pun that’s beckoning.)

 The facts, ma’am. Just the facts. Please, and let me again apologize, am I to believe that BK was standing about a college party, sufficiently gooned and waxed out of his gourd, whilst his schmeckle was airing out and along came friends (plural) who took control of said schwantz via manucaption of some sort and pushed said appendage into the hand of an unsuspecting coed party attendee who happened to be standing about? Now please, go through this scenario in your mind. I dare you to try and reenact it. Does this even make sense to you? Is this even remotely possible? Forget the journalistic horrors evinced by the NYT, how am I supposed to believe this even happened? Oh, wait. I forgot. It’s the Times.

Let me see if I’ve got this straight.Don’t you think whilst at the party even a tipsy Kavanaugh would have noticed (1) his member was exposed — tumescent, turgid, flaccid we don’t have the foggiest, (2) friends (again plural) were fidgeting with his googootz and (3) said friends were “pushing” it into the mitt of some hapless lass? And, what, he just stood there all the while watching and the victim recipient of his accoutrement doesn’t remember the commotion and positioning and pushing and . . . well, see what I mean?

Valedictory. Sorry, but there’s a word for what this is: BULLSHIT. New York Times, I curse you, your editorial staff, your very essence. Carlos Slim, dump this rag. Sell it for scrap. They’ve earned unfathomable contempt from all.

9/11 Amnesia, Historical Discombobulation and America Learned Nothing

The mission statement. Your country needs you. It needs your leadership, courage and focus and it desperately needs your wisdom. It needs you to recognize the issues that truly affect your fellow countryfolk. It needs you to apply critical thinking to the incredibly complicated problems that face us and your fellow countrypeople for generations to come. The issues that face us are simple. Simple to recognize but admittedly not so simple to resolve. But the first requirement is to focus on what matters. Focus without the patellar obeisance and Sturm und Drang of the usual suspects. Focus on what needs to be done and disregard the ancillary trifles, the supplemental distractions upon which the vile chapters of the Democratic party focus. Not all are intellectually and spiritually fallen, I hasten to remind. But the voices today that represent the majority of the mouthpieces and bullhorns that infect our political stage are not those of the average goodhearted, well-intentioned, hard-working and honest American. The profane quorum of disparate demagogues and obscene contrarians serve no purpose other than to crank up the volume in the echo chamber and reflect the thoughts of their fellow travelers and fellow victims of terminal #TDS. They are not the majority but enjoy the majority of media platforms. And we have to do something about that. Now. Instanter.

That horrible day. Yesterday represents our annual exercise in euphemizing, sloganeering and bumper sticker activism. Hashtag bigmouths and blateroons quick with a quip and flash tweet. Mosh pit feelers who through their immane “sensitivity” are able to channel the focus of the moment. They make me sick. And why? Because invariably they will admonish you and me to #NeverForget. But they forgot. Everything. And what’s worse, they and we (to be honest and fair) have forgotten everything. We apparently learned nothing from the official narrative of the horrors. How certain Muslim and Islamist foreigners hellbent and focused on doing harm to us slipped in under the radar, many actually complying with extant immigration laws, and regrouped and reconstituted for their terror production. We learned nothing. Today you’ve the bashi-bazouks of the terror left actually calling for open borders, a dissolution of sovereignty and the elimination of national security, all the while demanding to pay the health care bill of invading dastards, hoards and swarms of the undocumented, illegal, unregistered, unknown and anonymous. We learned nothing. Today your government looks away as #Antifa thugs pummel and beat and slap and punch and kick and throttle and laugh at you, me and the rule of law — on antisocial media no less. They’re considered heroes as are #BLM screechers and howlers (whenever they’re roused from dormancy). But the NRA is a terrorist organization?! The most cogent plan outlined and suggested by #Libturd lefties is a prohibition against plastic straws and 38 categories of subgenders. We learned nothing. America is paralyzed by a psycho cycle, where public triggered bleats and screams are the norm. Where points are given for the level of difficulty in deciphering the message of ire. Pussy hats, infanticide, transgender grooming in preschool reading circles, public libraries and Whole Foods converted to perv central recruitment stations, maniacal witch hunts by a benighted and befuddled Mueller. Ah, yes, Herr Mueller, the senescent dotard coot led astray and away. We learned nothing.

Bolton boltin’. When I saw that Wilford Brimley doppelgänger Johnny Boy Bolton had been given a copy of the home game I leapt in joy. I danced about the stall and rode my steed in full gallop as I hooted and hollered yeehawing down the boulevard. I am the Walrus. Nope, you were the Walrus. He is gone! He is gone! (For now.) This man embodies everything wrong and dangerous with Staussian neoconservative ideology and it somehow slipped through our focus. It has nothing to do with conservatism and all to do with a bunch of lapsed libs using military brute force to spread democracy one shattered and destroyed country and people at a time. But never forget, Bolton was a leftie prog. A draft dodging chickenhawk who never smelled gunpowder or blood and would shit his BDUs the first time one of his democracy beneficiaries lobbed a round at him. War for thee but not for me. I despise him. And his Project for the New American Century (PNAC) ilk. What Johnny and his band of intellectual ferrets wanted above all was for our beloved America to completely dominate humankind worldwide (snatching the world’s resources by the by). And all he and they needed was “some catastrophic and catalyzing event — like a new Pearl Harbor.” Enter 9/11. Enter the Patriot Act. Enter the longest military action in our republic’s history. As long as I live, two words will forever cause my soul to screech, my spirit to howl: BleachBit and PNAC. And what’s more, ask anyone today what the PNAC ransom note was all about and you’ll get that vacant, void, vacuous stare. That clueless look. The blank blink. But mention transgender bathrooms, cow flatus and mythical climate change and you’ll hit paydirt.
We learned nothing.

In 47 Years We’ve Gone From Global Cooling To Global Warming. Still Believe It’s Not A Hoax Of Epic Proportions?