In Which The Washington Generals Hoist A Trophy

Like many of you, I stayed up pretty late last night. I watched the map start blue from the early votes, turn red as the polling results came in, then turn blue-ish as surprising things happened, like Wisconsin “finding” 144,000 votes that all happened to be for Mr. Biden. (Hey, it put Al Franken in the Senate, and nobody complained!) With 60% of the vote counted, Trump led Virginia by 300,000. The media called it for Biden, who then managed to obtain something like eighty percent of the remaining ballots and turn it into a win by 400,000. On the other side, the early optimism that Biden would win Ohio turned into a Trump rout.

It looks like this election will be decided in the courts, or perhaps in the streets. As of right now (the afternoon of the fourth) I’d be foolish to call it either way. It seems obvious, however, that no matter what happens, there is one group of people who have scored a major victory — and very few of my readers, to say nothing of Americans in general, will like it.

Trigger warning: politics to be openly discussed after the jump, don’t click it if a discussion like this would upset you.

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Those Who Can Make You Hate Karens, Can Make You Believe Absurdities

The Karen I knew didn’t want to speak to a manager — unless it was the manager of getting high. We shared a school bus stop in 1984. I was a twelve-year-old high-school freshman (excuse me, first-year student) and she was a fifteen-year-old high-school junior… who didn’t even go to high school. It was more than a little disconcerting for me to consider, but Karen rode the bus with me to Dublin High School (now Dublin Coffman, 10/10 GreatSchools for “College Prep” but 4/10 for “Equity”) and then took another bus to the Tolles Technical Center in Plain City, Ohio. Tolles was the vocational-tech school run by the neighboring school district; since only about fifteen of Dublin’s 1200 students were on the “vo-tech” path, they double-bused over there every day.

Information on Karen was hard to get, particularly for a twelve-year-old. She would be there at the bus stop every morning when I arrived, despite the fact that the bus stop was literally in front of her house. She was bleach blonde, five foot six, just a little bit too much Appalachia in her face to be classically beautiful, with what looked like a perfect body covered by JC Penney clothing from ten years ago. She always had a cigarette in hand right up to the moment the bus arrived, at which point she would flick it onto the driveway behind her in a motion that was both careless and completely rehearsed. The rumor in our neighborhood was that she was going to Tolles so she could be a hairdresser. The idea that someone could pick a career at seventeen, and that the career in question could be cutting hair, frightened me in a way I couldn’t articulate.

I don’t recall ever speaking directly to her, nor she to me. The next year they added a bus stop closer to my house, which put paid to our daily coexistence, but in the years to come I would occasionally see Karen on a neighborhood street, behind the wheel of her old Datsun or in the passenger seat with some older, scary-looking dude, never the same one twice. An friend of mine who’d been in a few classes with her during freshman and sophomore years, before she left for Tolles, said she was an easy lay. I nodded knowingly, but we both understood that there was no definition of easy lay in the world that included the possibility of lanky, flat-broke kids on $169 BMX bikes.

What happened to Karen? Turns out she is still in Columbus, Ohio. Not cutting hair, but working an entry-level gig in pharma tech. Her LinkedIn profile photo leaves no doubt it’s the same person. Two marriages, two divorces, a couple of wage garnishments when she failed to pay her state taxes or various bills, a lawsuit from king-of-the-in-store-credit-card Synchrony Financial to which she offered no convincing defense. Still a bleach blonde, still looks a little dangerous to my sedate suburban eyes. Fifty-one years old. Hard to imagine.

It’s become popular lately to use “Karen” in a derogatory fashion. It’s the successor to “Becky”, which was the media’s first shot at creating a slur for white women along the lines of other slur names for women of other races. Why did “Karen” stick when “Becky” didn’t? And why is everyone using it? I doubt you will be surprised by the answer.

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Public Schools Are The New Liberal Churches And Teachers Are The Clergy

If you haven’t heard, Kentucky was (and still is, due to contested results) the site of one of the nation’s most closely watched and contested elections this week. The incumbent, Republican Matt Bevin, won his seat in 2015 in a bit of a landslide, considering that his predecessor was a Democrat. The state was deeply in debt at the time, with teacher pension programs that were underfunded and in danger of collapsing, due to a failure of previous governors and general assemblies to properly fund the retirement system. Bevin ran on a promise to fix the system, and passed a bill that was designed to do just that—but the Kentucky Supreme Court overturned it.

Bevin made a mistake—well, it was a mistake in the sense that it prevented his certain re-election in a state that voted 65-35 for Donald Trump in 2016. He attacked the teachers in Kentucky, likening them to “thugs.” He blamed sexual abuse and shootings on them. When they called out sick en masse to protest him at the statehouse, he said they just wanted a day off.

So what did the teachers do? Well, they did they always do—they indoctrinated the children.

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It Was Never About Believing All Women

 

In case you’ve taken a trip to the outer dimensions in the last week or so, I’ll let you know that Virginia Governor Ralph Northam, after making the pitch that perhaps “non-viable” babies who’ve somehow managed to survive being born should be aborted anyway, was called on the carpet before the perpetually aggrieved of America for possibly appearing in either blackface or a KKK costume in a photo found in his college yearbook. Damn, the Internet is undefeated. (Also, please don’t doxx me. Thanks.)

But, surprisingly, the drama didn’t end there. After a long, perplexing news conference in which the governor refused to resign (and also came seriously close to moonwalking), the attention turned to some allegations against his potential successor, Lieutenant Governor Justin Fairfax, that had been reported to the Washington Post over a year ago. Vanessa Tyson, an associate professor of politics at Scripps College and a graduate fellow at Stanford University, is the woman who made the accusation that Fairfax had sexually assaulted her in 2004, and she has now hired the same legal team that represented Christine Blasey Ford during her testimony against then-Supreme Court Judicial nominee Brett Kavanaugh. It should be noted that Professor Scripps appears to be solidly left in her writings.

In short, both the Governor and Lt. Governor of Virginia might be taken down by tactics previously employed by the left in this country to get rid of Republicans they don’t like—difficult to prove, possibly spurious accusations of racism and sexual assault.

However, the same group that told us we must #believeallwomen just a few short months ago seems hesitant to believe Lt. Gov. Fairfax’s accuser. In fact, they don’t even want to discuss it.

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Why I Easily Predicted Republican Wins in IN, FL, and MO (Even When The Polls Said Otherwise)

For many years, SportsCar magazine has written a Solo National Championships preview article in advance of the actual event. In this article, they make predictions about who will win each class. It’s mostly lighthearted fun, especially since they are discussing an amateur autosports event with no real impact on society. They also used to hand out t-shirts to the champions at the awards banquet that said “SportsCar was RIGHT!” or “SportsCar was WRONG!” depending on whether or not the magazine had correctly predicted the winner.

Well, if we had been handing out t-shirts to the winners of the Senate races in Indiana, Florida, and Missouri last night, we would have been handing out a lot of “The Media was WRONG!” shirts.

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The Only Good Republican Is A Loser Republican

It’s been so refreshing to see the bipartisan respect for John McCain this week. Democrats everywhere are reminding us how much they love John McCain. He was a patriot, a hero, and a statesman. It’s a real shame that McCain didn’t die before he ran for President—he might have won.

Because, of course, before he died, he was none of these things. He was a racist and sexist bigot. He used Botox excessively. He might have had Alzheimer’s. Actually, he was really racist.

But once the left got a taste of a winning Republican (in the person of one Donald J. Trump), they decided that McCain was just fine. Always a lovable loser, the Washington Generals to the Dems’ Harlem Globetrotters, the left was happy to deify McCain upon his passing. All of a sudden, they decided that respect for the flag was a really important thing. All because of just one thing—McCain was essentially a #nevertrump guy.

The media has decided to make a Faustian deal with the neo-con GOP establishment—rebuke Trump, and we’ll change our position on you.

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The Disappearance Of Crimethink

In 2017, 74 of the 30,000 white farmers in South Africa were murdered.

In that same year, 48 unarmed Black men were killed by police in the USA, out of 21.5 million Black men, the majority of whom presumably go about unarmed most of the time.

That’s one in 405 against one in 447,917. If you’re upset by the latter — and I don’t think anybody likes it, with the possible exception of the people who benefit financially or politically from the situation — you should be enraged by the former. Yet the uniparty media, which lionized Mr. Obama for his posthumous adoption of Trayvon Martin, became practically rabid with frothing fury when President Trump expressed concern regarding those South African farmers. CNN screeched that “one recently released accounting… suggested the killing of white farmers in South Africa was at a 20-year low.” Well, the rate of “gun violence homicide” in the USA is half what it was in 1992 but that’s not stopping our media from bleating about the “gun violence epidemic”. Not one more death! Unless the guy is working a farm in South Africa, in which case 74 will be just fine!

We all know how this movie is going to end: the killings, beatings, rapes of intimidation of farmers will increase until they are driven off the land. The land will be given to cronies of the South African political leadership. Production will start to fall, because the qualities that make for a good political crony do not make for a good farmer. Over the course of say, a decade, South Africa will see its farming output decline until it is perhaps one-quarter or less of what it is now. Then South Africa will become a permanent recipient of Western aid and its people will live in abject poverty.

We know this because we’ve seen this movie before. The fall of Rhodesia from “Africa’s breadbasket” to Africa’s basketcase is well documented, even in left-leaning American press. Which no doubt explains why, as South Africa prepares to leap from the same precipice, the media is starting to rewrite history.

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Mad Maxine Waters Is Starting A War She Can’t Hope To Win

We may someday look back at Sarah Sanders’ expulsion from the Red Hen restaurant in Lexington, Virginia, as the moment that started it all—the Franz Ferdinand of the Second American Civil War, if you will. Sure, Kirstjen Nielsen and Stephen Miller were recently harassed at their favorite Mexican joints by some protestors, but Sanders’ case was unique in that it was the business owner who asked her to leave rather than an angry mob. Perhaps she preferred the Obama method of giving immigrant children to sex traffickers.

Maxine Waters decided to capitalize on this event, encouraging liberals to “create a crowd, and you push back on them, and you tell them they’re not welcome anymore, anywhere.” Of course, she says this representing a relatively poor district of California while she chills in a mansion that is worth anywhere from $3-5 million dollars, according to her own tax forms.

Of course, this is so idiotic that even Nancy Fuckin’ Pelosi reprimanded her in public for saying it. But it’s even more poorly thought out than most things that Mad Max has said, and that’s saying something. Here’s why.

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The Camel’s Nose In The Kid’s Cage, Plus DadLogic

It was all fake. Every bit of it. The kid in the cage, staring forlornly out from his literally padded cell in the company of children wearing $69.95 Vans Sk8-Hi shoes? Fake. The picture of TRUMP CHILD CONCENTRATION CAMPS? It was from President Obama’s administration. The refugee child crying on the cover of TIME while Trump looks on with disdain? Not a refugee, and never separated from her family.

But if the coverage was entirely fake, the motive behind it was tiresomely real. After two years of trying every avenue of attack possible, the media has learned NAZI FUHRER DRUMPPPPPPFFFF’s weak spot: he is sentimental and doesn’t like to make people unhappy. The whole point of the fake-cage tempest-in-a-teapot was to get Trump to move the line on immigration a bit. Which he did, promptly stating that he would work to overturn the 1997-era legislation that governs the separate detention of children. Approximately an hour after he agreed to that, the media line changed.

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Music Is The Weapon, But Then Again, It Always Was

AT THE CORNER of 8th and Market in San Francisco, by a shuttered subway escalator outside a Burger King, an unusual soundtrack plays. A beige speaker, mounted atop a tall window, blasts Baroque harpsichord at deafening volumes. The music never stops. Night and day, Bach, Mozart, and Vivaldi rain down from Burger King rooftops onto empty streets.
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Empty streets, however, are the target audience for this concert. The playlist has been selected to repel sidewalk listeners — specifically, the mid-Market homeless who once congregated outside the restaurant doors that served as a neighborhood hub for the indigent. Outside the BART escalator, an encampment of grocery carts, sleeping bags, and plastic tarmacs had evolved into a sidewalk shantytown attracting throngs of squatters and street denizens. “There used to be a mob that would hang out there,” remarked local resident David Allen, “and now there may be just one or two people.” When I passed the corner, the only sign of life I found was a trembling woman crouched on the pavement, head in hand, as classical harpsichord besieged her ears.

Welcome to the world of “weaponized classical music”, where homeless people, thugs, dirtbags, and “teens” are actively repelled through the high-volume application of music that they don’t happen to like. It’s a tactic that is well over thirty years old, having been started with “Mozart At The 7-Eleven” in British Columbia back in ’85. In any era but this one, people would hear about this and chuckle. In $THE_CURRENT_YEAR, however, we must respond with everything from academic papers to the increasingly-shopworn boilerplate accusations of bigotry and racism. In the process of doing so, however, we will lay ourselves out to the possibility of deconstructive evisceration. Allow me to wield the knife. As Pusha-T said a few weeks ago, it’s going to be a surgical summer.

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