Author Archives: Lionel

Vatic Pythonic Prescience You’ll Never Soon See Again

Lionel Breaks Down Why Schiff’s Limited Scope of Impeachment Inquiry Questions Will Ultimately Fail

The three (3) essential areas of focus initially suggested and advanced by Adam Schiff and his Intel Star Chamber will comprise the following areas of focus, reviewed and analyzed herein. 

  1. Did President Trump request that a President Volodymyr Zelensky initiate investigations that would ultimately benefit POTUS’s own personal political and partisan interests in the US, including inter alia an investigation anent the President’s political rival and potential opponent in the 2020 U.S. presidential election, Joe Biden et fils?
  2. Did President Trump, either directly or by and through agents, seek and endeavor to use the power of the Office of the President and other resources of the federal government in myriad ways to apply considerable pressure on Zelensky and the government of Ukraine to advance the President’s personal political interests, including in effect leveraging an Oval Office meeting desired by Zelensky or by withholding U.S. military assistance to Ukraine?
  3. Did President Trump and his Administration seek to obstruct, obfuscate, conceal, suppress or cover up information to conceal from the Congress and the American people evidence about the President’s actions and conduct?

And the ultimate question to be reviewed and considered is presented thusly: Assuming arguendo any of the aforementioned are answered and proved in the affirmative, is it enough to reverse and subvert the franchise by extricating a duly-elected President? Especially when the election is a mere 360 days away from this moment?

The Constitution Is Under Attack . . . Again

Verity. Let me start by saying (as I am wont to do) that Americans are essentially and organically good people for the most part, by and large. And let’s be a tad universalist as well and throw in the notion of mankind sharing in said goodness. As in worldwide. As in internationally. True. Humans are indeed preternaturally (to some) naturally hardworking, honest and, I daresay, patriotic when it comes to abecedarian concepts of no shite, elemental, basic and rudimentary love of country and order. Let me even throw nationalism into the mix versus nativism and certainly versus white nationalism or supremacy for that matter (terms I’ve yet to figure and truly grasp and master). That being said, this is still a lazy lot nonetheless with nary a clue as to fundamental issues, and a fortiori the essential concept that the #FakeNewsMedia are corporatist statist fascist operatives and apparatchiks designed and employed to spread drivel, dreck and disinformation to the fat and happy slobs who’ve never grasped the fact that their beloved liberties can be taken away in the snap of a finger. Too harsh? I’m just getting started.
Today’s #FakeNewsMedia is the AIDS of informational breakdown. Why? What’s AIDS primarily? It’s marked by the breakdown of the immune system. Those infected, inflicted and affected suffer from opportunistic diseases caused by the body’s radar system having been shut down. That’s what’s happening today with our news and information media. Look at it this way. What’s worse: Knowing the wrong thing or not knowing anything? I submit the latter. And if you’re allowed to wallow in this retched information and news septic tank what you’ll invariably learn is nothing. As in the absence of something. Something of matter. Something of note. The dearth, paucity and nonexistence of the critical.
We’re at war. And the enemy is internecine, embedded and from within. A dormant pathogen called nescience and ennui that uses intellectual torpor as the base or medium of spreading vile misinformation and propaganda. Am I getting through, Sparky? Blink once for yes.
I don’t care if you like Trump, voted for him, hate him, love him, that’s not the issue.  The issue is the Constitution. And it’s under attack. Why? Let me tell you. (1) The extraordinary measure of impeachment is now used as an amputation technique to interrupt and short-circuit the franchise. To reverse the vote. To remove the victorious, the duly elected, the winner. To ablate the victor. To dissect the quiddity of the representative process. Ask Jimmy Madison or Tommy Boy Jefferson what they’d think about using the emergency brake of impeachment to right election misdirection and they would most probably swear you were joking. (2) #FakeNewsers think you’re stupid. That you’re incurious, uneducated. Prove them wrong. (3) Refer to Nos. 1 and 2 supra.

The Deep State [DS] is real and here and deadly and must be stopped at all cost. There are slews of attempted definitions as to [DS] but let’s see if we can narrow it down. [DS] is a for the most part a clandestine, occult and quasi-secret network and labyrinth of especially and essentially nonelected government and tangentially governmental officials and private entities operating extralegally and without the conventional bounds of government to influence and enact government policy. As David Rockefeller famously intoned, “The supranational sovereignty of an intellectual elite and world bankers is surely preferable to the national auto-determination practiced in past centuries.” This is not some tinfoil hat conspiracy theory, Sparky. This is as serious and as real as it gets. Besides, we haven’t worn tinfoil in years; it’s aluminum.

I’m not a conservative, a Republican, a right-winger. I’m just right. This has nothing to do with Trump. But it has everything to do with a man who dared to challenge the status quo, dared to push [DS] special interests aside and dare to do it his way. Shattering Biden’s prototypical nepotism scam into smithereens. And remember, if there’s one thing that [DS] colluders and miscreants hold inviolate, sacred and sacrosanct it’s the colossal scams and networks and warrens of corruption that nepotism circuits represent. How? When Nancy Pelosi is reported to be worth a Gazillion smackers, how does she explicate such? By claiming it’s her husband who’s the business genius. Right. When Maxine Waters, who — by all metrics and medical science variables is a bona fide cretin and a submental, subliterate, daft blowtop — is a millionairess, is asked to explain her riches . . . well, come to think of it, she never is. Look at how her family benefits mightily. Go ahead, we’ll wait.

Will Trump be impeached? Yep. Without a doubt. But not removed. How do I know? It’s all they have and all they’ve got and nothing will get in their way. That simple. That basic.

How do you spell pathetic? As of today, there are 397 days left until #Election2020. Think about that for a minute. Barely over a year and the Dems have yet to craft a coherent policy save for the surgical extraction of a duly-elected POTUS, their opponent. The message is occluded, muddled, distorted and distracted. Irresolute, dissolute and of disrepute to boot. Incoherent, logolalic, logorrhea-laden. The bases of the blateroons. Energumens fixated on impeachment. Determined to concoct and construct wild yarns of enlisting Ukrainian prosecutors to investigate . . . wait for it . . . crimes committed in Ukraine! Imagine that. The diabolical genius of Trump attempting to enlist the help of a country in seeing that it investigate and prosecute if need be its victimization. You can’t make this up.

Climate Hoax Stepford Shill Greta Thunberg Charms: “How dare you! You have stolen my dreams and my childhood with your empty words.”

“How dare you!” The Greta Hall of Fame just inducted its newest and latest member. Move over Mses. Garbo, Van Susteren and Waitz (all right, Grete, close enough). Meet America’s and the world’s cosmic climate sweetheart, the incomprehensibly frightening Greta Thunberg, the 16 year-old, pigtailed and braided latter-day atavistic incarnation of Frau Blücher. She actually makes David Hogg look like George Gobel. If you missed her staged, canned, over-rehearsed, eating-the-scenery over-the-top schlock screech speech at yesterday’s UN climate whatever, you missed one for the ages. Spooky. Seriously. Histrionics for the books. Classic. Sad. Pathetic.
Like watching accident dashcam videos. Ah, our Miss Greta. She stole the show, perhaps as the beneficiary of the most fleeting of moments of ignominy couched as righteous indignation and horror. With screams from the crowd of “Where are her parents?” this vacant-eyed Climategate human shield central casting global warming clone and Soros-sponsored crisis actress captured the imagination of many the Kubrick fan as we thought how she’d be perfect perhaps singlehandedly supplanting the twins in The Shining all by her lonesome. Look, I’m no shrink but I know troubled when I see it. After all, I’ve been to talk radio conventions.
Somebody help this girl! There’s not a human being with a soul, sentience and a pair of working neurons who watched her and didn’t wax aghast over how this kid was paraded up to the front of the room where she took it from the top and read her carefully prepared jeremiad, her plaint, her indictment against the world. Trembling, lachrymating, spitting each element of the gravamen, the bill of particulars of the bereft. Triggered. Move over SJW fave Jessica Starr, you’ve been outgunned and outmatched. It’s horrifying no matter how many times I see it. And yet I admittedly find myself watching it and her repeatedly even though it’s irritating. Troubling. But, dammit! so entertaining. And addictive. What is it about this moment that is so compelling? It’s like watching airline meltdowns where emotionally frayed travelers are dragged off flights with passengers applauding their ouster. It’s wrong . . . but so fascinating. Who ever agreed for her to appear? Didn’t they have any focus group review her dress, affect, mannerisms, style? What bonehead thought she was ready for prime time?
Greta Thunberg is a shill and will be forgotten by Friday. She’s being used. And you know what happens to anyone used by Dem prog libs and then what happens when they’re used up? When they’ve served their purpose. Remember Cindy Sheehan, the Khans, Omarosa, Avenatti, Dusty Samples (Stormy Daniels to you), Christine Blasey Ford? Again, once spent, POOF! They disappear. See ya. On the ash heap of history. Here’s a copy of the home game. Don’t let the door hit you.
“The eyes of all future generations are upon you and if you choose to fail us, I say we will never forgive you.” This used and rehearsed, this prop, this poor Stepford animatronic. Like a rescued cult member staring before the cameras, eyes fixed, affect flat. Timed, rehearsed, blocked, programmed from childhood. This was her moment. Ready for her closeup, Mr. DeMille. One of the most blatant and horrid examples of child abuse seen in modern times. But, remember, the world’s children are expendable. Fodder, merchandise, easily trafficked and merchandised. This child (chronological age is irrelevant) was ready for her Malthus moment. To shudder and shake and cry and carp about how the world would implode, explode and vanish but she never said exactly what needed to be done to fix it. Not one plan, program, idea, vision, platform. Reminds me of the Democratic vision . . . wanting.
“How dare you! You have stolen my dreams and my childhood with your empty words.” I heard that very phrase repeatedly howled from Hillary supporters the night she skipped on Javits and ordered Creepy JoPo give the sayonara speech. But I digress.
“You say you hear us and that you understand the urgency, but no matter how sad and angry I am I do not want to believe that because if you really understood the situation and still kept on failing to act, then you would be evil, and that I refuse to believe.” Wow. I screamed the same thing when they canceled The Ropers. I’m with ya, kid. Been there. But, at the risk of sounding redundant, when we yelled and protested even at your tender age we had a suggestion. You know, end the war by leaving the war. How exactly do we fix change as in climate? Notice how they’ve lost the notion of global warming. That baby was going nowhere; perhaps someone researched Hypsithermals and Holocene maxima.
“You are failing us but young people are starting to understand your betrayal.” Counterfeit. Fugazy. Inauthentic. Unauthentic. Not real. Staged. A poseur. Some climate parvenu. A weather snake oil dilettante. An exceedingly scary and shockingly vacuous young lady, put up and propped up by climate hucksters pushing and pulling for the ultimate brass ring, the big enchilada — carbon taxing. That’s what everything’s about. It’s about cap and trade, track and tax, carbon exchanges and carbon taxing. The illusive and mythical and magical and phantasmagoric carbon footprint. It’s a part of our world now. Antifa thugs, global protesters leaving parade routes with garbage strewn. Incomprehensible logolalic platitudes. Alas.
“It doesn’t matter what is true, it only matters what people believe is true.” Thus spake Paul Watson of Greenpeace fame and how true it is today. But as for our Greta, we’ll never forget her moment. Forever forged and emblazoned on our collective conscious. Poor Kate McKinnon. She must be watching and thinking “I could play Greta perfectly!” But that’s a no-no. She’d lose your Liberoid membership card and that would be the end.
Onward, patriots!

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?

[DS] Quislings Are Losing Their Base: Ossified Fox News Redefines Irrelevance

You can’t make this stuff up. How magnificently profound the statement: You can’t make this stuff up. But it’s true. Sadly. You simply can’t possibly in your wildest imagination come up with scenarios as demented as what we’re seeing daily. In fact, we’re habituated to it. We simply can’t react anymore. To wit … .
Let me count the ways. Jimbo the Freak Comey’s slipped through the grip of justice (at least initially) yet again. Pedo Rapist Dead Jeff Epstein was whacked in his cell in front of the world while everyone was looking and the Feds look you straight in the eye and tell you it was a suicide. Nothing to see here, move along. Creepy Sleepy Old Uncle Joe Biden’s living in a parallel universe quoting events that never happened all the while screaming “Who ordered the veal cutlet!” at the top of his voice. Fox News has lost its gonads, backbone, integrity, focus, direction and all semblance of credibility by caving in to the demands and restructuring orders of Iger, the Quisling Murdoch Bros. and Bobby’s Disney Mouse team. New York City is sliding into an urban horrorscape while its mayor peregrinates the globe in an imaginary quest for the Presidency that actually represents a front for his not-so-camouflaged attempts to beef up campaign coffers that he’ll be able to syphon for life for his own personal greed later (remember, he learnt it all from Bonnie & Clyde Clinton). Street criminals are dousing NY’s Finest with water (for now) while cops now back off aggressive policing after one of their own was fired for implementing a non-choke hold on a 300-pound obese asthmatic walking heart attack with an arrest record a mile long who refused to move after citizens called NYPD to remove him. Oh, it gets better. Let me break down a few of my favorites.
Oye Comey Va. What does anyone from the [DS] DOJ have to do to even get arrested? Let me get this straight. No one, nobody’s been arrested, charged, nada, niente, nihil, zip, nothing for anything they’ve done and contrived and conspired against this President and the Constitution. Are you serious? But Public Enemy Number One Roger Stone withstands and endures a full frontal, full Monty G-Man blitzkrieg arrest raid at dawn for . . . wait for it . . . process crimes and is financially wiped out. Sorry, you don’t know what this “process crimes” bit means, do you? But don’t feel bad. No one does. Roger Stone allegedly lied or misled federal agents and officials as did Comey, McCabe et al. did with impunity. The same way they misled a FISA court with their urolagnia/undinism dossier phantasmagoria. So what’s the difference, you ask. Dunno. Lurch Mueller indicted Manafort and crew, including an American hero General, and none of the [DS] DOJ slime got so much as a parking ticket. (And don’t get me started when you remember that the Oven Mitt Fashionista HRC herself is still laughing her arse off after she blatantly and deliberately destroyed servers that would have landed me and you under GITMO.) Drain the Swamp isn’t just a pithy expression. It’s a battle cry.
They Scalia’d Epstein. I mean how obvious was that, Sparky? Folks I know who can’t even pronounce conspiracy theory have said without a second’s hesitation that JE was 86’d in front of the world to show you and the rest that [DS] assassins are everywhere. And Billy Barr looked you straight in the eye and swore he’d get to the bottom of . . . wait for it . . . lax MCC security?! What?! No, Billy. We want to know who killed him as in who assassinated this rapist pedo slime. Seriously, put the bagpipes down and look at me and listen carefully. We want to know WHO KILLED HIM, not why Barney Fife and his crew were sawing logs whilst on duty. And we also what to know why Jizzlaine (you heard me) Maxwell hasn’t been charged yet. And while we’re on the subject, here’s a note to the MSM: Stop calling her a madam or an heiress or a British socialite. She’s a vile trull. Besides, madam connotes that these young women were prostitutes. We know how that works, your reshaping of the facts to make it appear that these young ladies voluntarily and knowingly and intelligently entered the ranks of sex-for-hire. We’re not buying it. We just want to know whom you’re protecting.
Larry “If True” O’Donnell steps on his d-ck in front of the world while Rachel Maddow feigns aghast shock and . . . wait for it . . . nothing happens. Imagine a home pregnancy kit that reads PREGNANT (if true). Wait, what? Yes, Mrs. Lipschitz, good news. You’re pregnant (if true). Did you say, “If true”? Yes. So am I pregnant? Yes (if it’s true you’re pregnant). That’s exactly what happened when TV news’s answer to the sitz bath, resident blatteroon Larry O’D announced to Maddow that he had a source that maybe, sorta knows that President Trump might have secured loan guarantees from Russian oligarchs (Russia!) if . . . wait for it . . . if it’s true. Remember, Rachel made us sit through an interminable intro for the big non-payoff of her Trump tax returns exclusive, which turned out to be Geraldo’s Capone Vault debacle redux. So, what did Larry the Louse do after Trump’s lawyer sent him a STFU and apologize demand? You betcha. He slinked and cowered and cowed and slithered back into his nest after issuing the most tepid if not incongruous apologia in the history of apologias. He expiated nothing whilst seeming to reiterate the fascinating “If True” hedge. Now, were this any network but MSDNC, maybe we’d care. But it’s not, so we didn’t and don’t. Meanwhile millennials and Gen-Z’ers are asking what’s the big deal with some morally-constipated Botoxed feeb with a bad haircut lying about yet another fake scandal. And that’s the sad part. The legacy of this mess. We’re so used to it, it just doesn’t matter. Well, we’ll see about that.

Trying to Get Feeling Back After the Democratic Debate Debacle

As proem, please. I don’t want to redline the paranoia meter or feign artificial newsletter horror over that which is anything but . . . but . . . something very bizarre has happened to what I was led to understand and believe in my heart was the Democratic Party. It’s apparently been commandeered by a group of demented degenerate AltLeft loons force-feeding a lethal dose of utter and inexplicably obvious delirium bilge. Industrial strength dreck. Think Chernobyl grade thought poison. Glow in the dark style. Dig? And no, I’m not necessarily talking about ANTIFA (though I will instanter). Chronic storm trooper jackbooted thug wannabes are easy to identify, discuss, target and analyze. Rather, I’m talking something far more dangerous and insidious — the run-of-the-mill FauxProg, the synthetic liber-old, the artificial progressive. The central casting man-bunned cloth-bagged face-tatted and studded Potemkin village lib. Along with his panguts elders, the balding tenterbellied bald louts who insist upon the government-issue ponytail, harkening back to the halcyon peace and love days of yore. These are the enemy. These are the targets of my wrath. They will pay. They will answer.
DemoRat MasterDebaters. Now I suspect your first take is that I’m being a bit melodramatic and a tad over-the-top. Not even close, Sparky. Not for a minute. With the exception of Tulsi Gabbard, who actually presents a platform that’s mildly reminiscent of what used to be considered prototypical and classical liberal and progressive political thought [ANTIWAR!] — I defy anyone with a pair of functioning neurons to remotely explain to me what this score of wannabes has in store and in mind for our beloved republic. Anyone, please, tell me. It seems that based on the clusterfeck debate mosh pit cavalcade menu, there’s an overabundance of concern over the constantly-evolving myth called climate change and its pesky little brother, global warming. They can’t exactly state what it is that’s changing or warming or what’s anthropogenic or not the result of that damn Sun thing and weather thingamajig or the vicissitudes and frequencies that inspire the rabid rote and impassioned ululations of a science-berefet band of cocksure blateroons and dime store climatologists. But wait, there’s more.
The birds and the bees have suffered Colony Collapse Disorder and Avian Flu. There are the bastions and bands of battologists who apparently aren’t too keen on the notion of anything binary, viz. genders, sextyping, pudenda morphology or combinations thereof. I haven’t the foggiest idea of what these folks even want: At first they were merely keen on destroying the notion of the public restroom that differentiated genders. Oh, this was a big deal. Then such genetic luminaries such as, er, this guy, came up with epic doozies. Dig. 

I don’t believe only in reproductive freedom, I believe in reproductive justice. And what [that] means is just because a woman, or let’s also not forget someone in the trans community — a trans female— is poor, doesn’t mean they shouldn’t exercise that right to choose. So I absolutely would cover that right to have an abortion.” — Julián Castro, tinhorn Dem, ostensibly in the midst of a cognition fugue. [ES]

None dare correct the lunacy. This guy had me going for a few days. Oh, I’m sorry. I mean they. Or zhim.Or something. You know, that feller. He actually stood before a group of (I would imagine) reasonably intelligent people with adequate levels of abecedarian schooling and argued for the right of men to have a fetus plucked from their uterus. Swear to God. And here’s the best part, none of the NBC marionettes corrected this poor man (I believe) or were so much as taken aback by his new and novel reconfiguration of reproductive paradigms. No, it was that good. That incredible. That monumentally gonzo, bonzo and cosmic.

“Anyway, my time is up. I’m sorry.”Then the moment that will forever be chronicled in American history. Joe Biden announcing his time’s up and that he’s history. As some of the kids on the Internet(s) called that, it was a classic SELF-OWN. Hoist by his own petard. Or as we say in West Tampa, he stepped on his . . . you know. Classic, tragic, historic. A politician maintaining a hyper-punctilious focus on the rules as to time to speak. Kirsten Gillibrand was hogging the mic to the point she had to be restrained and sedated by dart-wielding mental health personnel. Everyone was veering into the others’ lanes, incredibly and with virtually no surcease. But not our Sleepy Joe. Nope, not the Creepster. No way, Jose, and no siree, Bob. Ol’ Joe just attempted to squeak out a few words of something and then politely thought against it, bowing out and moving over to the pit crew. ‘Twas epic and seemingly unbelievable but it happened. I saw it. But, friend, the master debaters were in all their glory. One boneheaded cretin and Boeotian after another force-feeding the prepared GOTCHA! line and riposte and comeback, avoiding at all cost the dread esprit d’escalieri or trepverter. And you’ll have to wait until July for a round two of the two-rounders and I for one can’t wait.

NYC fêtes LGGBDTTTIQQAAPP Pride. In a spirit of universality and colossal inclusion NYC celebrated legions of Lesbian, Gay, Genderqueer, Bisexual, Demisexual, Transgender, Transsexual, Twospirit, Intersex, Queer, Questioning, Asexual, Allies, Pansexual and Polyamorous revelers and parade enthusiasts this weekend for an event that rocked the house. Note to reader: Nowhere is heterosexualso much as whispered. Not a tip of the hat, acknowledgment, recognition. Nada. Niente. Nihil.Zip. But good news for demimondes, fans of demitasse, the demiurge and Demi Moore, Demisexuals have been counted. Discuss.
Meanwhile.Trump’s laughing his ass off.

Valedictory.It’s actually a simple thought, but what will the TDS-afflicted and infected do when Trump wins round two of the elections and then says adios thereafter? Will they have crafted a cogent message, platform or worldview by then? I seriously doubt it. Seriously.
Onward, patriot!
Mark Your Calendar! LIONEL AT THE CUTTING ROOM. SOUND THE KLAXON! October 5, 2019. Mark your calendars. Lionel returns to and storms the stage of New York’s heralded and lauded and world-famous Cutting Room for an evening of (out)spoken word and bluegrass. This is not standup. This is not your father’s comedy. This is brutal, piquant commentary and analysis. Hie! You know the drill, patriots. Operators are standing by. Here, click!

Please watch this critical message.Truckers Against Trafficking (TAT): True Heroes Saving Lives, Making A Differenceis the latest installment from my wife Lynn Shawinterviewing Kylla Lanier, Deputy Director and Co-Founder of Truckers Against Trafficking(TAT). The goal of this brave organization is to work hand-in-hand with the trucking and bus industry to identify, discover and disrupt human trafficking. Listen to Kylla and learn of TAT’s genesis and how this lifesaving organization is expanding and educating internationally. Learn how she and her family began this incredible organization and what’s in store and in development. Please listen and make a commitment through self-education and raising awareness. You can start by forwarding this interview on your social media platforms. The goal is simple: to destroy the networks of human trafficking that for far too long have been ignored.

Antisocial media. TwitterFacebookInstagram, the Lionel Media website and browse the merch and marketing at the Official Lionel Nation Gear Store and above all, the Lionel Nation YouTube Channel where we engage in immersive, totally interactive live stream broadcasts twice daily. It leaves antediluvian talk radio in the dust. Where it shall remain.


#45Fest LionelNation Live Chat immediately following the President’s triumphant announcement at 8 PM ET. Join your constitutional brothers and sisters at the Live Chat Portal that will remain open throughout the day so please review and join in the immersive and interactive world of participatory democracy. Talk radio on its best day can’t approximate same. Never could. Never would. Never will. Just can’t. Same reason a Kiwi can’t fly.
#45Fest begins today and mainstream media (MSM) crybabies are in the usual froth. Why, you ask? That’s what they do. It’s who they are and what they stand for. Obstructionist children. Confused and hateful haters hating without focus and surcease. Determined and sworn to destroy everything and everything Trump. Committed to promoting the systematic collapse of our constitutional republic and enlisted in the war against decency, normalcy and convention. If it’s weird, wrong, illegal, disruptive and contrary to anything involving (dare I even utter the phrase) Western ideology it will be ground into the ground by the heel of this seditionist jackbooted ideology. There, how’s that?
MSM news is a threat to our liberty and the continued sustainability of our constitutional republic. Inasmuch as I have sworn never to waste my time on this particular subject again, I must break my vow and say a word or twelve about MSM news and how you must, and I mean must, disconnect from this horror show of misinformation, propaganda and falsity. And I mean all MSM news platforms, every one of them. You must instead scan the available daily offerings from myriad sources as I do, getting a feel for what’s purported and presented as relevant and critical and then home in on that which you want to pursue or reject outright. You decide. Think of these platforms as chalkboard menus in the window as you peregrinate along boulevard looking for a place to dine. Scan the fare, peruse the specials and then decide what looks like pursuing. And if the selections suck, move on. Don’t happen in, sit down and hope that something worthwhile will materialize. When America plops down before the news circus, it’s at the mercy of some PA, assignment editor or per diem slave whose idea of news is the usual guest intensive, endless roulette wheel of the usual subjects thrust upon the masses: apparatchiks, most dull and on the dole, trained seals barking and bleating the usual scripted pabulum and putrescence that ensure the return run. Pull away now. Just say no. And think for yourself. Trust me.
Fueled by anger, buoyed by nescience. These news journo-wannabe rejects are enlisted to present their rote corporate un-American sockpuppet reality to you. Just the look on their faces is enough to inspire emesis. Their expressions alone. The moral certitude. The commitment to a cause they cannot actually explicate much less grasp, all the while trampling over the rights of Americans who deign to opine. Oh, and here’s the best part. They truly believe they’re journalists! Swear to Gawd. Or at least valid analysts. They are monumentally deluded by the self-deception that daily anti-Trump spewings reinforce, so much so that they hardly notice the level of schmaltz, schlock and dreck they sing. They tergiversate with the wind. And you’d think they’d notice the fact that these bastions of news vomit are shuttering daily. One would guess that the man-bunned, neck-tattooed vapid millenioid journo-lite Ted Baxter, ostensibly smart enough to second guess the President of the United States, could see the cards on the table and not bother drawing to an inside straight? Dig?
So stop anon. Cease this folly and you alone determine what you’re going to read, watch or listen to. You be your news director. Take charge. Listen, I haven’t watched network or mainstream media news since October 27 of last year and my life changed. Think of it not as a fast or a diet but quitting cold turkey.
So tell me, why can’t the #DemoRats understand why border security’s critical? Let’s talk irony and hypocrisy simultaneously. There are those who have the hardest time explicating much less understanding the quintessentially obvious rationale over enforcing national borders from being breached by swarms and murmurations of illegal, sometimes diseased, sometimes sex-trafficked, sometimes drug-smuggling “migrants.” At the same time they show this uncanny ability to recognize the most persnickety of rules anent social media violations and the like. Amazing, truly. They can recite every iteration of statutory hate yet can’t see the sapience in and of enforcing a border and protecting national sovereignty. Just think about that for a moment. These trifling blateroons, yammering into the night as to the most inconsequential of nothing, are without the ability to recognize trespassory encroachment as they swipe their door cards suspended from the ubiquitous corporate-issued lanyard so they can seal themselves from the big, bad and awful world they’ve retreated from.  
It’s worse than we thought. Eric Blair warned us of thought police, Stasi-like surveillance predators and freedom assassins, more government than private. But that was then. These days are different. You must understand a simple fact: It’s the private sector I fear most now. The citizen pitchfork and torch wielder. They’ve a ferocity in their disdain for your self-expression and categorization of critical and will stop at nothing to shut you up and down straight away. The numbers and frequency of predatory thought vigilantes are actually the product of a mental health issue, viz. an oblique yet metastatic narcissism that demands the expunction of their rivals’ opinions and viewpoints deemed inconsistent with corporate fascism.
Valedictory. It’s actually a simple thought, but what will the TDS-afflicted and infected do when Trump wins round two and then says adios thereafter? Will they have crafted a cogent message, platform or worldview by then? I seriously doubt it. Seriously.
Mark Your Calendar! LIONEL AT THE CUTTING ROOM. SOUND THE KLAXON! October 5, 2019. Mark your calendars. Lionel returns to and storms the stage of New York’s heralded and lauded and world-famous Cutting Room for an evening of (out)spoken word and bluegrass. This is not standup. This is not your father’s comedy. This is brutal, piquant commentary and analysis. Hie! You know the drill, patriots. Operators are standing by. Here, click!

The Unspeakable Truth of Human Trafficking: The Horror At Your Doorstep. My wife, known in Conspiratorium circles as the Inimitable and Ineffable Mrs. L, has a compelling address that I commend to you as it exposes and confronts a topic that for reasons I shan’t ever understand has been avoided altogether by the usual suspects, the nefarious MSM failures. It’s a compelling interview that I humbly request you forward to colleagues and friends to spread the word and illuminate this subject.