Friday, 24 June 2016

Cue the Elgar, lads


I woke up this morning to the best news that I have heard since The Trumpinator became the Republican candidate for President:
The English shires and Labour's northern heartlands led Britain out of the European Union in a victory for middle England. 
Despite Britain's biggest cities backing a Remain vote at yesterday's historic referendum, the country overall headed for the Brexit door. 
The results caused immediate turmoil in the markets as the pound collapsed by more than 10 per cent in the hours after the polls closed and the FTSE-100 braced for heavy losses. 
Nigel Farage - who earlier appeared to concede defeat - made a jubilant victory speech at around 4am declaring it was a 'victory for ordinary people'. 
Tory constituencies across the south and midlands voted for Brexit in huge numbers. 
Places such as Wellingborough, West Somerset and Chesterfield all voted for leave by more 60 per cent. 
The referendum map was painted blue for Out across vast swathes of England - despite London and Scotland being bright yellow. 
Mr Farage told a jubilant Leave.EU rally in central London: 'Dare to dream that the dawn is breaking on an independent United Kingdom. 
'This, if the predictions now are right, this will be a victory for real people, a victory for ordinary people, a victory for decent people. 
'We have fought against the multinationals, we have fought against the big merchant banks, we have fought against big politics, we have fought against lies, corruption and deceit. 
'And today honesty, decency and belief in nation, I think now is going to win. 
'And we will have done it without having to fight, without a single bullet being fired, we'd have done it by damned hard work on the ground.' 
Mr Farage praised Ukip donor Arron Banks along with Labour and Tory MPs and those of 'no party' who have taken part in the Leave campaign.
G. K. Chesterton wrote a classic poem a long time back called "The Secret People", which might just as well have been written about the EU and its effects on national sovereignty:
They have given us into the hand of new unhappy lords,
Lords without anger or honour, who dare not carry their swords.
They fight by shuffling papers; they have bright dead alien eyes;
They look at our labour and laughter as a tired man looks at flies.
And the load of their loveless pity is worse than the ancient wrongs,
Their doors are shut in the evening; and they know no songs. 
We hear men speaking for us of new laws strong and sweet,
Yet is there no man speaketh as we speak in the street.
It may be we shall rise the last as Frenchmen rose the first,
Our wrath come after Russia's wrath and our wrath be the worst.
It may be we are meant to mark with our riot and our rest
God's scorn for all men governing. It may be beer is best.
But we are the people of England; and we have not spoken yet.
Smile at us, pay us, pass us. But do not quite forget.
Well, I suspect that Mr. Chesterton would be delighted to see what the people of England actually said when they were given the chance to speak. And they told their new unhappy lords, in no uncertain terms, "Get The Phuck OUT".

My friends, June 23rd was a great day for us. Yesterday, the people of England and Wales made their ancestors proud by voting clearly in favour of independence. The ancient rights that the English fought and bled and died for through the centuries might, just maybe, once again be restored to their rightful place.

The reaction of the elites has been to wet their collective pants. I'm watching the editor of the Financial Times on ABCNNBCBS- they're all basically the same to me, lefty and stupid to the core- saying that Britain is now in the grips of a constitutional crisis, and that investors will now have no certainty whatsoever for the foreseeable future.

While he isn't wrong, these people simply do not understand how resilient people and nations really are. Those of us who are in favour of national sovereignty, self-determination, and the rights of a free people to rule themselves, are not motivated by fear or greed or hatred. We are motivated by love of God, of country, of our people. We believe in the fundamental goodness and decency of those like us, and we would see the greatness of Western, Christian civilisation restored.

We have faith in each other, and that faith will see us through the darkness that is to come.

The globalist elites see none of these things, because they cannot. They are willfully blind to the realities of the human condition, by definition; they follow an ideology that says that there is no difference between a white man from a Christian culture, a black man from a pagan African culture, or a brown man from a pagan Hindu culture. They see us all as interchangeable pieces in their Great Game.

And now that a small, but clear, majority of the British people has told them in no uncertain terms just how wrong they are, they simply don't know how to react.

But we do.

Brothers, this is only the beginning. Nationalist movements are surging throughout Europe, and soon we will see referendums taking place across the continent. I dare to hope that one day our children will grow up to be proudly English, Welsh, German, Italian, French, Portuguese, Spanish, and so on- rather than blandly "European". That is right, and just, and natural. That is what the Lord intended for us, and this unholy abomination of the EUSSR will one day be consigned to the ash-heap of history along with its spiritual predecessors.

However, we cannot give in to euphoria and overconfidence. We just won a major battle in a very long and difficult war. Make no mistake, the European elites will do everything they can to repress and destroy the spirit of independence and freedom. It will take years to break away from the tenacious tentacles of the vampire-squid that is the EU. The bewildering web of treaties, regulations, agencies, and laws that the EU has imposed upon the British people will take time to dismantle, and the closeness of the Brexit vote indicates that ditching all of that nonsense will take many bruising, bloody, and painful political battles.

We will likely lose one step for every one that we win.

And yet, history is on our side. Culture is on our side. The facts of human nature are on our side. The Lord Himself is on our side- and as far as I'm concerned, that is all the endorsement that anyone will ever need.

So celebrate today, my friends. Crack open a barrel of proper English ale- the kind that people drink warm, with bits of soil floating on top- and get properly hammered. It's that kind of day. The British people got a once-in-a-generation chance to vote to secure their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honour. They managed to secure their independence without a shot fired- and no, the murder of MP Jo Cox does not count. This is rather more than the South can say; the United Kingdom did not have to go through their own version of the War Between the States to secure their ancient rights, and for that, we should be profoundly grateful.

And let "Rule, Britannia" be heard from every corner of the British Isles. Let the Flag fly high. Let the whole world know that the British people have taken their first step toward restoring their ancient freedoms- and that their ancestors are looking down upon them and smiling.

The Choice by Rudyard Kipling


In honour of this momentous occasion, let the Poet-Laureate of the British Empire give tongue to what has happened:

To the Judge of Right and Wrong 
With Whom fulfilment lies 
Our purpose and our power belong, 
Our faith and sacrifice. 

Let Freedom's land rejoice! 
Our ancient bonds are riven; 
Once more to use the eternal choice 
Of Good or Ill is given. 

Not at a little cost, 
Hardly by prayer or tears, 
Shall we recover the road we lost 
In the drugged and doubting years. 

But, after the fires and the wrath, 
But, after searching and pain, 
His Mercy opens us a path 
To live with ourselves again. 

In the Gates of Death rejoice! 
We see and hold the good— 
Bear witness, Earth, we have made our choice 
For Freedom's brotherhood! 

Then praise the Lord Most High 
Whose Strength hath saved us whole, 
Who bade us choose that the Flesh should die 
And not the living Soul! 

To the God in Man displayed— 
Where'er we see that Birth, 
Be love and understanding paid 
As never yet on earth! 

To the Spirit that moves in Man, 
On Whom all worlds depend, 
Be Glory since our world began 
And service to the end!

Wednesday, 22 June 2016

Suck it, tree-hugger


Recently I was on a road trip with mia famiglia, driving around the beautiful New England countryside while enjoying the amazing summer weather we're getting up here in the northeast. The other day, I saw something that has to be absolute proof that the Lord exists, and that He watches TOP GEAR.

Now, before you read the rest of this, you need to know one rather important detail about our road trip.

When I booked the rental car, I originally asked for a standard SUV- i.e. something about the size and shape of a Ford Escape. We got one of those the last time we did one of these merry jaunts, and- for an American-made car- it really was quite good to drive. It was also about the right fit for four people with luggage driving 500 miles across the country.

However, when I went to the rental desk this time, some silly female had already given the standard SUV that I was supposed to rent to another customer. The only things they had left at the time were:
  • A big damn Ford pickup truck;
  • A REALLY big damn "premium SUV"- a Ford Expedition, I think
So we were stuck with something like 17 feet long and 6.5 feet high and just about as wide. It weighs- and I'm not joking about this- damn near 3 TONNES. Really only two people buy this kind of car: soccer mums, and people with severe Napoleon complexes.

Even more ridiculous yet, this thing is painted FBI-style (or Mafia-style, take your pick); it was matte-black with tinted rear windows, chromed wheels, and a grill polished to a brighter sheen than a bad rapper's teeth.

Hell, you could park the damn thing on the interstate, prop yourself up on the front seat with a hair-dryer in your hand, and pretend to be a traffic cop and watch how people react. We were thinking of doing that exact same thing, just for shits and giggles.

But the funniest part about this friggin' behemoth of a vehicle has got to be the big sticker that Ford slapped onto its arse claiming that it has an "EcoBoost" engine.

SERIOUSLY?!? The damn thing has a 3.5L 230hp V6 that revs up to 7,000rpm. It's got a 40g fuel tank and a fuel consumption rate that gets to maybe 19mpg highway and, at best, 15mpg city.

"EcoBoost", my ass. "EgoBoost" is more like it.

Now you may think that I'm having a bit of a downer on this ridiculously large and inefficient and cheaply put together American car. And, at first, I was; I found it too large to drive easily or comfortably, I really didn't like its looks, and I thought overall that it was pretty stupid.

But then I got out on the open road with it, and I quickly began to see why Americans love these things.

It's big, its comfortable, it's fairly quiet, it shrugs off all but the trickiest roads. It may lean over onto its door handles when it hits a sharp turn, thanks to its extremely high centre of gravity, and it may generally wallow like a boat, but it absolutely scares the shit out of any granola-muncher stupid enough to be driving slowly in the left lane.

(As a general rule, there are three groups of people that I genuinely do believe should be shot, for improvement of the species: Islamists, paedophiles, and slow drivers in the fast lane. Are you really going to disagree?)

With that background established, back to my story...

There we were, bumbling along the I-90 heading west, speculating on the best uses of the 4-wheel drive system in this giant freakin' tank of a vehicle that we were saddled with, when we realised that there were quite a few police cruisers littering the highway. Now, I am of course a totally law-abiding citizen (so to speak) when it comes to the subject of speed limits. It goes without saying that, when the speed limit on the highway says 65, I drive at 65.

Or, y'know... 65-ish.

In the process of studiously observing these speed limits, we noticed up ahead that a police cruiser had taken a rather keen interest in one of the cars in front of us. The cruiser proceeded to pull over the car in question, and we were able to drive past shortly afterwards to see who had just gotten nicked for speeding.

And it immediately became apparent that the guy who'd just gotten done for being a bit too eager with the throttle, was driving my least favourite milk-float of all time, a Toyota Prius.

I am not in the least bit ashamed to admit that I was very, very happy to see some tree-hugging dipshit getting pulled over in a Prius. There were, in fact, scenes in our gas-guzzling bulldozer of a car that would have done credit to a touchdown celebration in an NFL game.

That, my friends, was a good day, a big tick in my "life" box. We were driving, uh, fast (but legally) in the left lane of the highway in a giant tank of a car- and the tree-hugger got pulled over. That's what I call "poetic justice".

My friends, don't drive hybrids. Just don't. If you want to save money on fuel, buy a diesel. You might be driving on the fuel of Satan and covering everything you pass by with a thin layer of black soot, but at least you'll be honest with yourself about what you're doing. And you'll almost surely get better mileage too.

Why pay extra for a separate drive-train that uses a nickel-cadmium battery which is, in fact, manufactured using such horribly dirty methods that a Toyota Prius lasts one third as long as a Hummer but uses 50 percent MORE combined energy during its lifetime?

And now, having dispensed my Useful Consumer Advice for the day, I shall get back to laughing madly about the fact that some dipshit ecomentalist in a hybrid got pulled over, while the douchebag in the giant gas-guzzler drove on peacefully.

Sunday, 19 June 2016

Lessons from my father

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
-- From "If" by Rudyard Kipling
As the last hours of Father's Day roll by, it is worth taking a moment to reflect on what it means to be a father, especially in today's world, where fathers are taken for granted and their rights are stripped from them at gunpoint.

I am fortunate- extraordinarily so, in fact- to be very close to my father. He is my hero and my role model. Like every young buck blessed enough to have a good father, I wanted nothing more as a kid than to be like my dad. To me, his work was a source of mystery, wonder, and inspiration; it wasn't until I was much older that I realised just how hard he worked to keep my mother, my sister, and me so comfortable and happy.

My father has always taught me by example, by quiet word and clear deed. While he is not a humble man- far from it, in fact, as he is quite well aware of his own gifts and strengths- he is also not an insecure one. He has no interest in showing off his incredibly broad and deep body of knowledge that spans subjects ranging from physics to economics to politics to business to current affairs. He has no need to proclaim to others how successful he is, who he knows, how many cars he drives, or how well he lives.

He doesn't actually care all that much for "stuff"; his overriding motivation in life, his only real concern from the moment he wakes up to the moment he goes to sleep (ridiculously late in both cases, from my point of view), is the welfare of his wife and his children.

I don't have children (obviously). I am at the point in my life where I think that raising children- especially raising sons- is not just something that would be "fun" to do; I think it is a duty, an absolute necessity in a world that has plainly gone mad. Raising strong sons into good, God-fearing, honest, hard-working men is far more than merely a useful endeavour; it absolutely must be done if we are to restore the Will and the Word of the Lord as our guiding principles in life.

Make no mistake: raising sons into true men is the greatest challenge that a man will ever face. Last year, I wrote about the things that I would teach my son if- God willing- I were ever given the opportunity. But where did I get those ideas from? Quite simply, I learned them from my own father. The man that I am today is a direct result of a strong, firm, loving father's guidance and wisdom; it is out of gratitude to and respect for him that I now put forth some of what he taught me.

1. In Matters of Principle, Be Immovable and Unstoppable

My father is flexible in many respects when it comes to his children. He will put up with all sorts of silliness from both me and my sister with patience, good humour, and that amused little sardonic smile of his that tells me that he is secretly enjoying himself while watching us bicker and squabble good-naturedly.

But if one of us is ever stupid enough to cross the lines he has laid down, only the Lord Himself can save us from his wrath.

My father doesn't really have a "belief system", per se. He is probably the least religious person I've ever met that doesn't call himself an atheist. But he has always lived his life by a code- and that code is simple:

Honour your father and mother;
Love your wife and children;
Never lie, cheat, steal, or be dishonest in any way;
Respect the views of others- and, in turn, demand that they respect yours;
Be grateful for and humble about what life has given you;
Be happy with what you have;
Never demean or disrespect those who work for you;
Work hard, do not complain, but demand fair compensation for your efforts

Anyone who crosses these clear, unbending lines of moral principle and purpose rarely lasts long under the withering blast of my father's scorn and rage. He doesn't get angry often, but when he does, I have seen hurricanes that looked less terrifying than he does.

2. Family First, Always

Growing up, I always took it for granted that my dad was "away". He was travelling virtually non-stop when I was a child. But, wherever he was, no matter how late it was for him when he got off a flight or got into a hotel, the very first thing he did was call us at home. And his children always got the lion's share of his time.

My mother, to whom he has been quite happily and contentedly married for 36 years and counting, would get in maybe three sentences before he would say, "are the kids around?". And she would then hand the phone over to me. And I would babble away for five or ten minutes about whatever silly inconsequential nonsense was on my mind at the time.

My sister, when she came along, was even worse than I was. Being a girl, she of course had my dad wrapped around her little finger from Day 1- still does, of course. And she would talk on, and on, and on, as girls do, about who said what and who she played with and what her teachers said, etc. etc.

My father would patiently listen, laugh, offer advice where it seemed necessary, and then hang up the phone after maybe a few more words with my mother. And then, the next day, just before dinner time, he would call again, with almost military precision. And so it would continue, until he got home to spend a few precious days with us before jetting off to his next set of meetings.

When he came home, the weekends were sacrosanct. He would flatly refuse to play the corporate game and go out for weekend golf or pub outings with colleagues. He would simply spend the time at home with us, take us out to lunch and dinner, and spend as much time as he could with his family before getting ready to do it all again starting Monday- or, sometimes, Sunday night.

That lesson has always stuck with me. To this day, I find it next to impossible to go on holiday by myself- I hate travelling, or at least flying, and whenever we get together as a family, things always feel incomplete if my sister or I aren't there.

My father taught me that nothing in this world is more important than family. Nothing makes up for missing the growth and development of your children, no matter how fancy the lifestyle and how impressive the house and the education that your kids get and so on. Your children are your legacy to the world; it is imperative that you do everything you can to raise them right.

Sons need strong, decent, firm fathers to teach us how to become men. Daughters need stern, loving, protective fathers to teach them right from wrong, to preserve their chastity and virtue for men that actually deserve it and will then protect them, and to be good wives and mothers.

These are lessons that our sick and crippled society has forgotten. But my father drove it into me through nothing more than the force of his example.

3. Debt is Slavery

My father has an absolutely unholy hatred of debt.

When my parents got married, my father wanted to buy his own apartment or house, something that my parents could call their own. But they were too poor back then to afford anything without a loan.

My father simply would not countenance the idea of taking a loan. He knew what most people today still do not: the moment you go into debt, to anyone, he owns you as surely as though you were his slave, until the day you pay him back with interest.

My dad refused to accept that yoke. And my mother, Lord bless her, completely supported him in this decision.

To build their first house- as a second story on top of my father's parents' house- they sold off my mother's jewelry and some small plots of land that she had inherited from various relatives who had died. They scraped together whatever money they had, and with it, they purchased their first house.

It wasn't much. But it was THEIRS. No one could take it away from them, by any right known to or accepted by Man or God.

My father has passed that hatred of debt on to me. I don't own much, but what I do, I have bought and paid for. I use "lay-away" plans all the time- in that I take a few months, or years, or whatever, to lay away the money that I need to buy what I want, and then I buy it. I pay off my credit cards in full, on time, every time.

I will NEVER let any man own me. I will NEVER kneel in chains before anyone, no matter how rich, how powerful.

My father is the reason that I think this way. It is because of his wisdom, his strength, and his example that I learned the inestimably precious value of living within one's means from an early age.

4. Respect Your Body

Unfortunately, one lesson that my father taught me, again through example, has been one that he himself has often failed to heed during his life.

My dad these days is fairly fat. As a young man, he was quite thin and very good-looking; but decades of a sedentary and workaholic lifestyle have left him a rotund, unfit man.

He is a lifelong smoker, too. It is in reaction to his smoking that I have developed an absolute hatred of the stench of cigarette smoke. (Strangely, I actually don't mind the smoke from a good cigar all that much- and I don't mind the smell of pipe tobacco at all.)

Furthermore, he followed the "conventional" medical advice all his life with respect to diet, eating lots of rice and bread, avoiding "unhealthy" fats like butter and coconut oil and bacon fat. And he, like most of my countrymen, has a massive sweet tooth; he loves chocolate and ice cream and various desserts.

Over the last ten years of my life, I have taken those negative lessons to heart and charted a course very nearly the opposite of my father's, at least in these respects. I exercise regularly- pretty damned hard, in fact. I eat lots of meat and vegetables. I cut out most processed foods from my diet years ago, and never looked back. I stick to fruits and dark chocolate and red wine as the sources of my sugars.

I am a resolute non-smoker; I've never taken so much as a single puff of a cigarette in my life, and I damned well don't intend to start now.

My father taught me, through all the wrong lessons, just how dangerous it can be to neglect your body. If, however, you respect your body, and you work hard to make it strong and resilient, your body will repay you an hundredfold.

The Hardest Job There Is

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: being a good father is the hardest job a man can ever have. It is also the most important. Wives need strong husbands to be their leaders, their protectors, their rock and their fortress in the storms that life inevitably throws at us. And children need strong, virtuous, loving, firm fathers to raise them through force of will and leadership by example.

A strong and healthy society does not happen by accident. It is the result of generations of good and capable fathers raising strong, hard-working, fundamentally decent sons and daughters. This is incredibly difficult work; the lines on my father's face, and the completely white hair on his head, are testament to what he went through raising me and my sister.

But there is no greater reward than to watch your children grow up to become admirable and decent young men and women. And there is no greater fulfillment of God's Will for His creation than to watch those same children sire children of their own, that their grandparents can then spoil rotten, as they should and must.

My father is my hero, the man that I try to emulate, whether consciously or otherwise, in as many ways as I can. And I will always be grateful to him, for as long as he lives and far longer still, for everything that he did for me and taught me.

He made me who I am. And for that, I am grateful beyond words.

Vote "LEAVE", and become great again

Take up the White Man's burden-And reap his old reward;
The blame of those ye better,
The hate of those ye guard-
The cry of hosts ye humour
(Ah, slowly!) toward the light-
"Why brought ye us from bondage,
Our loved Egyptian night?"
-- From The White Man's Burden by Rudyard Kipling
It is not like I need any convincing about whether or not #Brexit is a good idea, obviously. I've been on the side of the "Leave" campaign ever since the very idea of a referendum on the subject was put forth by David Cameron's quisling government. But if you're a Brit, and you need any more convincing, here is a most excellent movie to help you do just that:



And now (in the tradition of the Olberschmuck, but hopefully not as smug or as self-righteous as that liberal douchebag), a special comment regarding the decision that Britain faces in just 4 days' time:

My friends,

You may consider it hyperbolic for anyone to say that this is the last chance your country has to regain its freedom. You may believe that Britain will always be sovereign over itself and that "the EU" is just a silly nuisance that no one pays attention to anyway. You may think that Britain needs the EU in order to stay economically relevant, and that all of this talk about how Switzerland is so prosperous because it isn't part of the EU, or the EEC, is just crazy nonsense from a bunch of racist, mouth-breathing, knuckle-dragging "Little Englanders" who have no idea what the hell they're talking about.

And you would be WRONG. In every conceivable way.

The only reason there is any real doubt among any of you as to whether or not #Brexit is a "good idea" is because you, as a people and therefore as a nation, have forgotten who you are.

So, if I may, as a child of a former colony of the British Empire, as a friend to Britain and everything it stands for, as one who loves your country, I will try to help you remember.

Britain is basically just a dark, damp, moss-covered, chilly, foggy, cloudy, smelly, miserable large lump of rock sitting in the North Atlantic. Its people are morose, drunken, grumpy, and- depending on which bit of the country you are in- damn near impossible to understand.

And yet, this seemingly useless little patch of inconsequential land sitting in a far corner of the world is the progenitor of the world's greatest, most successful, and by far most influential cultures. This benighted patch of cold, wet, windy land sitting in the middle of bloody nowhere, spawned the greatest empire that the world has ever seen.

And in the process of building, maintaining, and spreading out its empire, Britain gifted the world with perhaps the happiest geopolitical accident that has ever befallen an afflicted Mankind: the Anglosphere, an alliance of English-speaking nations with common values, ancestry, belief systems, and worldviews- and which, thanks to the work of British hands and British minds led by a Christian system of beliefs, has done more to advance the wealth, comfort, happiness of humanity than anything that has ever come before it.

As I wrote above, I was born in one of the former colonies of your Empire. My parents both live in that same country. Now, if you asked either of them- especially my father- they would argue that the British Empire raped my country, took all that was best from it, divided its people, and did everything in its power to keep my people under their heel.

Yet even they, anti-colonialists that they are, would admit, however grudgingly, that the British Empire is also the reason why my country is, in fact, a country.

Sure, it was no picnic while it lasted. They took our resources, our diamonds and our silver and our gold, our sugar cane and rice and salt and other crops. They starved us and beat us and pressed us into indentured servitude to build their railways in Africa. They drafted us into their armies and sent us to die by our hundreds and our thousands in foreign lands, the rulers of whom we had no quarrel with personally before the Brits came over to kick over their tea-wagons. These things cannot be easily forgiven- if ever- and they stand as clear black marks against the British, and by extension all colonialists.

But those who took so much, also gave back much more- far more than the resources that they stripped from us.

The British gave my people roads, hospitals, medicine, engineering, advanced agriculture, industry, electricity, and uncounted other blessings. The British gave my people a sense of purpose, a reason for a divided and diverse people to band together into a united political body with a single voice. The British, in short, gave us our country, even though they also took everything they could while they were able to.

And, because of this, I, personally, am grateful for what the British accomplished.

My people are proud of who and what we are. We have a sense of community and tribalism that the West no longer has nor understands. We believe in family, in community, in national identity and destiny- the very same things that you Brits once believed in as well. You taught us well- perhaps too well- because you once knew what it means to be strong, proud, and above all free.

It is because of this that I am proud of the fact that it took the greatest empire on Earth to conquer my people- and in the process, gave us our country. A nation that once believed in itself, that knew itself to be strong and productive and energetic, ruled over a land of 300 million heathens with not much more than a hundred thousand civil servants, engineers, administrators, and missionaries.

That is an accomplishment that defies belief and comprehension. And yet the British did it.

Why is it, then, that after all of that, the British people could possibly want to put themselves under the yoke of a foreign empire far more tyrannical, far more oppressive, far more dangerous and inimical to freedom of thought and expression and belief than they, themselves, ever were???

For the European Union was an organisation founded expressly to avoid the mess and politics and nonsense of democracy. I actually understand this, in part; being something of an elitist snob (and uncaring enough of most people's opinions of me to be happy about that fact), I do in fact agree that mob rule is damned dangerous and should be avoided.

And if the EU was just about checking the worst excesses of democratic mob rule, I would have no quarrel with it. But the EU is about far more than that, and is far worse. If you need a catalogue of its excesses, its follies, and its dangers, then you have but to watch that movie up above.

The EU is dedicated to making the dreams of the global elites into reality. And that dream amounts to turning the world into one big happy mixed-race borderless playground of a socialist Utopia, where there is no want, no competition, no differentiation between peoples and races.

It sounds chuffing brilliant. But it actually amounts to hell on Earth.

It does so because, in order to perfect humanity, one would have to first destroy it. Everything that humanity is, everything that makes us who and what we are, all of the differences that (rightly and correctly) divide us into tribes and nations, would have to be torn down. 

The reality is that our tendency to divide ourselves into groups based on "those like us" is neither wrong nor problematic. It is a fundamental part of human nature. And those who would deny human nature, would ultimately crush that which makes us human, by definition.

Countless tyrants have tried to deny these basic facts. Countless millions have died in pursuit of these vainglorious, insane ambitions. And yet, mountains of bodies and oceans of blood still do not stop these fools from believing that they can create a world that is, in effect, a dead world, in which all individuality, all forms of personal expression and freedom, are erased in the name of conformity and ideological lockstep.

The EU is but the latest in a long string of failed Utopian experiments. The British, by contrast, have created freedom and prosperity just about wherever they have left their mark; those nations that have ignored or abused the gifts that their erstwhile masters gave them- like, say, most of Africa, much of the Middle East, or Pakistan- have only themselves to blame for their own foolishness and stupidity.

You British have much to be proud of. You should be proud of these things. And yet, you are not. Why is that?

Why is it that, every time I have visited London in the last 10 years, I have seen less and less that I recognise of what was once the world's greatest city? Why is it that, when I walk the streets of the city now, I see around me a sullen, angry, divided people speaking a thousand different tongues where once there was a single, happy, polite, decent people that merely spoke a hundred different accents of the same basic language? Why is it that there are now parts of London where decent, law-abiding non-Muslim Brits fear to go because they might "offend" the Muslims who today own and occupy those spaces?

What happened to Britain? What turned a once-great and proud nation, one that owned an empire upon which the Sun never truly set, into a pale, self-loathing, pathetic caricature of itself?

The answer is that your people lost their pride, their belief in themselves, their sense of their own destiny as a nation.

The good news is that the rediscovery of your values, your beliefs, and your own greatness is within your grasp. All you have to do is vote "LEAVE" on June 23rd.

Make no mistake, my friends, your political leadership will do everything they can to ignore your voices even if you do vote to leave. They have done it before; they will do it again. When other nations voted against adopting the Lisbon Treaty, often referred to as the European Constitution, as the law of their lands, they were ignored and the Treaty was adopted anyway.

Be under no illusions that your Prime Minister Cameron will do exactly the same thing with this vote.

But- and this is crucial- if he does ignore your voices and your will, he will destroy his own political future. He will have to go on record as opposing the will of the very people who gave him the power to govern their lives. You will have every right to haul him out of his plush Westminster offices by his ankles, tar and feather him, and toss him feet-first into the Thames. He will deserve it, at that point.

You, on the other hand, can go with a clean conscience before the Supreme Judge of the Universe and of Mankind, and say to Him that when you were given the chance to use the freedom for which you sacrificed and fought, you used it well, to do what you knew in your heart was right.

It is your choice. Use it well. Vote to Leave. Restore your dignity, your freedom, and your greatness as a nation. You have been given a chance to become once again a leader within the free world.
We will preserve for our children this, the last best hope of man on earth, or we will sentence them to take the first step into a thousand years of darkness. If we fail, at least let our children and our children's children say of us we justified our brief moment here. We did all that could be done.

-- Ronald Wilson Reagan

Thursday, 16 June 2016

"Save the whales..."


Apparently there will soon be a "naked restaurant" opening in Japan- and NO FAT CHICKS (or chubby dudes) are allowed:
Japan’s first “naked restaurant” opens in Tokyo next month with draconian rules of entry — podgy prospective diners will be weighed and ejected if found to be too fat. 
Following the lead of establishments in London and Melbourne, “The Amrita” — Sanskrit for ‘immortality’ — also has strict age restrictions, with only patrons between 18 and 60 allowed in, after they check in their clothes and put on paper underwear provided by the restaurant. 
“If you are more than 15 kilos (33 pounds) above the average weight for your height, we ask you refrain from making a reservation,” a list of rules posted on the restaurant’s website states, explaining that patrons could be weighed if they do not appear to be within the correct weight range. 
Guests found to be “overweight” will be refused entry to the restaurant, which opens on July 29, and will not be entitled to a refund, its website points out. All payments must be made in advance on an online booking page. 
The list of rules asks visitors not to “cause a nuisance to other guests” by touching or talking to fellow diners. Tattooed customers are barred from entry.
It is rare that I find myself truly confused. But in this case, I really am.

Part of me wants to respond with the standard, "OK, Japan, WTF?!?" line which ALWAYS comes to mind whenever we see crazy shit like this.

But most of me actually agrees with what the Japanese are trying to do here.

After all, if you're going to be eating what the Japanese consider to be "food"- e.g. "squid-flavoured ice cream", "curry-flavoured lemonade", and of course the perennial Japanese favourite of fermented soybeans that the rest of us know and loathe as natto- then you definitely don't want anything getting in the way of your ability to keep your lunch down.

And if you're going to be sitting in a restaurant buck-ass naked, well, you really don't want to have to eat your main course while watching some land-whale's belly fat or back-titties bouncing around within your field of vision.

I'm also down with the whole "no tattoos" thing. There's going to be enough ink to deal with if you're eating anything squid-related, and that's going to look messy and nasty as it is; nobody needs to see anyone else's "artistic" impression of a flower or a bird while eating dinner on a (naked) date.

I have to say, though, the concept of a naked restaurant does strike me as being highly efficient in terms of dating. I mean, if the intent is to eat, drink, and be merry with some hot chick back at your place, you're pretty much skipping over all the preliminaries, right? That's some Japanese forward-thinking for you, right there.

Then again... it's Japan. Where there is already an epidemic of so-called "herbivore men" who have little interest in seducing women or pursuing ambitious careers. And since no "inappropriate touching" will be allowed, I do find myself wondering what, if any, appeal something like this might have.

Of course, as I said above... it's JAPAN. And Japan is... weird.

Tuesday, 14 June 2016

"When in doubt, use the War"

There is apparently a football match coming up between Poland and Germany... or something. The particulars don't actually interest me. What DOES interest me is the way in which the greatest TV show on Earth- back before it became completely pussified, anyway- came up with what has to be THE best Volkswagen advertisement never made.

Skip ahead to about 3:20 if you want to pass over the initial, terrible, attempts from Jeremy Clarkson and James May to come up with a good advert for a car with- and there is no good way to say this- a diesel engine:


Unfortunately, the management types at Volkswagen didn't much care for that one. So instead of that very funny, very truthful advert, we get stuff like this instead:



... Okay, maybe the Darth Vader commercial is just about as funny as the Top Gear attempt. But it's a tough call, dude.

Monday, 13 June 2016

Not that I'm paying attention or anything...


But this bit of news about the UEFA Cup 2016 caught my eye- apparently a bunch of football (that's "soccer" to you non-English-speaking Americans) fans got into a bit of a punch-up before the Russia-England game in France:
England and Russia fans rioted Saturday at the Old Port in Marseille and outside the city's Stade Velodrome before the two countries met in a soccer match at the European Championship. 
It was the third straight day of violence in the Mediterranean port city, reviving bitter memories of clashes involving England fans at the 1998 World Cup. 
Police fired tear gas and water cannons at rioters around the city to rein in violence that authorities said left at least five people injured. Some fans walked through the city bare-chested and with blood dripping from head wounds. 
Amid the broken beer bottles and grey clouds of tear gas, families and tourists walked around the picturesque port, sometimes forced to skirt around lines of riot police leaning on their shields. Groups of people watched the chaos from the rear decks of two gleaming white yachts. 
French Interior Minister Bernard Cazeneuve said one British citizen was "seriously injured" in the clashes. 
"Once again, as over the last 30 years, an international football competition has been the scene of clashes between violent people claiming to be supporters of their national team," Cazeneuve said in a statement. 
UEFA, the governing body of European soccer, also condemned the fans, saying "people engaging in such violent acts have no place in football." 
TV footage showed fans throwing chairs yanked from restaurant terraces and scuffling on a staircase, where one man was seen kicking another one down the stairs. Shortly before the match kicked off, a group of Russia fans ran toward England supporters and started fighting outside the stadium. Riot police fired a water cannon at them and quickly broke up the scuffles. 
There was no fighting among fans inside the stadium, where England fans vastly outnumbered Russians.
The reason I bring this up is that it jogged my memory about a rather good video concerning the differences between American football and football football from a few years back that Bill Whittle made:


See, the thing is, I cannot remember the last time I heard about gridiron fans rioting after a game. If there had been one anytime recently, the media would have been ALL OVER the news- unless of course it happened in a majority-black city, in which case there's nothing to see here, mind your own beeswax and move it along there, bub...

But football hooliganism is depressingly normal. You'll see that sort of thing quite regularly with English football fans, though in reality that sort of silliness is a global phenomenon. Try getting the Turks or Colombians or Argentines riled up in a football stadium sometime and watch what happens.

In the case of the current UEFA cup, there is one match that I think could provide plenty of fireworks. Apparently Poland is playing Germany on Thursday. And I cannot stop laughing at the idea.

If you don't know why I find that hilarious, read up on a little something called Fall Weiss, which took place in 1939.

No matter who wins, there is likely to be a riot after that game.

So that got me thinking: why is it that gridiron fans are relatively tame (except in cities like Detroit and Birmingham and Newark, obviously), and football fans are such a rowdy bunch?

I honestly think it comes down to what Bill said about the very different natures of the two games.

In gridiron, two teams of... well, don't ask me how many men, since I don't watch this stuff... come together on a pitch to create an hour of chaos and violence and brutality within the context of a civilised, rule-bound, and generally more or less polite society. (This is of course very much the case in states where people are allowed to openly carry guns.)

In football, by contrast, it's very often the case that you get two teams of... I think it's 11 men... who come together from generally chaotic, violent, brutality-filled societies (and yes, that does actually describe modern England fairly well in many respects) onto a field where there are rules and laws that have to be obeyed.

As a result, the two sports diverge significantly in terms of fan bases and cultures. In American football, you have plenty of beered-up fans making lots of noise and generally acting silly, to be sure- but they do that inside the football stadium. And then they go home, because they've gotten their fill of vicariously watching athletes beat the crap out of each other on the field.

But in soccer, you have fans making a nuisance out of themselves both inside and outside the stadiums, because NOTHING EVER HAPPENS ON THE DAMN PITCH except watching 22 men running back, and forth, and back, and forth, and back, and forth, and- well, you get the idea.

Admittedly, this does not stop footballers- the European kind, I mean- from committing some of the most flagrant play-acting dives you'll ever see this side of a synchronised swimming competition.


And people wonder why I can't stand watching football matches...

Anyway, the point is that gridiron, for all that I simply don't see the point of it, just comes across as a more interesting sport, by far. It says a lot about how Americans think that they love a sport that basically involves slamming bodies together; it's a mentality that basically says, "we're going to keep rolling forward until either you're dust or we are".

Compare this with the European mentality of "let's all have a competition to see who can pretend to have the worst fake injuries on the field without actually doing a damn thing to score a goal".

You choose what you'd rather watch.

That difference in mentalities also explains what used to be America's approach to warfare- namely, shock or assault. America used to be very, very good at it. Which might explain why, back in 1944, a certain USA-Germany match, conducted in France, went quite well for the Yanks...

Sunday, 12 June 2016

These idiots still don't get it


There is no disguising it any more- the Third Great Jihad is here, now, within America's shores:
In appearance on Fox News Channel on Sunday, Breitbart National Security senior editor Dr. Sebastian Gorka reacted to the mass shooting in Orlando, FL early Sunday morning resulting in the deaths of 50 people and 53 injured. 
The shooter, identified as 29-year-old Omar Mateen, is believed to have pledged an allegiance to the radical terrorist group ISIS, to which Gorka argued is evidence that the war has come to the United States. 
In the past 15 years, we haven’t seen an Episcopalian suicide bomber,” he said. “We haven’t seen Zoroastrian mass murderers. We’ve seen Muslim extremists. If you deny that, you are in a fantasy land, and you’re endangering American citizens. 
“It’s time to wake up, America,” he added. “The war is here.”
The war has always been here. The reality of Islam as a violent, intolerant, bigoted, xenophobic political ideology has not changed even once since the so-called "prophet" fled to Medina in about 622 AD and became a warlord.

Yet, for the past thirty years, the "progressive" Left and their useful idiots on the cuckservative Right have done their absolute damnedest to marginalise and vilify voices that asked Americans to take a long hard look at mass immigration from Muslim lands.

And now we see the bitter harvest of that insanity, in the form of dead and dying homosexuals who thought that they were just going out for a night of "fun and fantasy".

And still, as the bodies cool and rigour mortis sets in, and CSIs have to deal with what Andy Carvin describes below, still the regressive Left would like us to believe that this was simply an act of "hatred" and "intolerance", rather than the latest salvo fired in the Long War that they desperately want to believe has never been declared.


Instead, they blame the ready availability of "guns" for this tragedy. They blame homophobic "bigots"- Leftist weaselese code for "Christian and religious conservatives"- for fostering a "culture of hate". They seem desperate to do anything else before admitting to themselves what really happened.

Well, what of those "backward, intolerant, homophobic jerkwad conservatives" that they vilify? What do we really think about homosexuals?

I am not a conservative. But, being of one mind with the Christian cultural right, and having been raised with quite traditional views about sex and sexuality, here is what this right-wing nut job thinks about homosexuals and their lifestyle.

I do not agree with, condone, or approve of a homosexual lifestyle. I find male homosexuality in particular to be a deeply troubling aberration; while I do not deny that there are quite a few men out there who are attracted to other men, either by choice or by nature, I do not pretend to understand their desires and I certainly do not approve of the glorification of such hedonistic debauchery as a legitimate "alternative lifestyle choice".

Any sane parent who has ever had to see a gay pride parade, in which young children out for a family stroll in the city are exposed to the spectacle of a man dry-humping another man bound on all fours in bondage gear while standing on a float playing loud techno music, will likely agree with me. That is emphatically NOT a set of choices that children should be encouraged to think is "valid" and "acceptable". It plainly is not.

But that is where my disagreements with the homosexual community end.

As far as I am concerned, what happens behind closed doors between consenting adults is their business, and nobody else's. Do what you want with whom you want as long as you can look at yourself in the mirror in the morning, and may God bless you in all your variety.

I wish gays no harm. I do not condone violence against them. I sure as hell don't want to see gay men thrown off buildings, hung from cranes, burned alive, dropped into vats of acid, or shot in public.

These are all things that happen to gay men in Islamic societies, particularly in territories held by ISIS. And yet the Left has the gall to call us the barbarians.

Here is a news flash to those idiots: the only people who will be there to defend them are the heavily armed, conservative-minded, traditionalist types who have had enough of being pushed to the margins of acceptable society. The very people that they mock and deride, the very people whose rights they want to take away, the very people who they want to see bred and immigrated out of existence, are the ONLY people who have the means, the will, and the goddamn guns to defend the tofu-eaters when, not if, the inevitable collapse of their progressive Utopian fantasies comes to pass.

That collapse is already happening. We can see it in the increasingly jarring disconnect between the government's response to an open act of 4th-Generation Warfare, and the reaction of the "great silent majority" to what happened.

President Obama bin Lyin has, of course, used this opportunity to preach in favour of "gun control" (again), like the blissfully unaware progressive twit that he is:



Mr. President, with all due respect- and at this point, none whatsoever is due- F**K you, and the horse you rode in on. You had the gall to use this tragedy as an excuse to attempt further disarmament of a law-abiding and decent populace. Your denial of reality has gone from stupidity to willful ignorance to, at this point, actual psychosis. You are categorically incapable of admitting to yourself, much less to the nation, that the cancer that is Islamic ideology had anything to do with this crime.

As Trump Muad'dib says, you need to resign. Right. Now. For the good of what little remains of the country that you have led straight into the very jaws of Hell.

And if he won't resign- which obviously he won't- he needs to be impeached for treason. Which of course he won't be; that would require a Congress that collectively has actual teeth, testicles, brains, and a spine. That is rather too much to ask for, in the current day and age.

Gun control is not the answer. It never was. A "gun" didn't kill and maim over a hundred people in the early hours of Sunday morning. An Islamist wielding a gun did that. Exactly how is the White House, in all of its utterly non-existent wisdom, supposed to separate out the "good" guns from the bad ones at this point? It cannot do so without controlling people, and it can only do so through force and coercion- the favourite tools of an oppressive and overbearing dictatorship, not a government instituted to serve the people that gave it power.

The problem is not guns. The problem is Islam. The very least that the Left and the cuckservatives could do at this point is name the enemy for what it is. But they won't. They are too terrified to be called "racists" and "bigots". And now their own hypocrisies are staring them in the face: gays are now being massacred by Muslims. Which special interest minority is a good Leftist twit to choose now, eh?

The final thing that these ever-so-enlightened "progressives" don't get is that we are, very clearly, at war now. So it is time that you and I prepared for it. Mike Cernovich's advice is solid and needs to be followed. Get yourself a weapon. Learn how to use it. Get to a martial arts school- a real one- and learn how to defend yourself.

Never leave home without a weapon at hand. I always have a knife of some kind within instant reach nowadays- whether it is the small, but extremely sharp, Leatherman blade/bottle opener (seriously) that is always attached to my gym bag; or my Leatherman multitool that is a weapon in itself without opening up a single tool, such is its heft; or my trusty and beloved Swiss Army Knife from back during my Cub Scout days.

If you live in a state that isn't completely idiotic about guns- I don't, sadly- get yourself a concealed-carry permit, and don't ever patronise an establishment that won't allow you to bring weapons inside. That gun you are carrying could save your life, and the lives of your loved ones, now that the declared policy of our political so-called "elites" is to open the borders to any Islamist with a sob story who comes along seeking refuge in America.

Brothers, sisters, we are at war. Not just at war with Islam- and that would be bad and difficult enough to fight- but with what is left of our own culture. The sooner we learn to accept these conditions and adapt to them, the easier it will be to persevere over the forces which would destroy the West and all that it stands for.