Thursday, 30 June 2016

"The Elites are blind, Arbiter!"


During my recent driving holiday with the family, we were required to drive out to one of the nicer suburbs in the Northeast to spend a couple of days with my aunt's family. Now, I actually rather like my aunt, and I think very highly indeed of my younger male cousin; he has turned into a really admirable young man and is working very hard to build out his own restaurant chain business.

And I'll be the first to admit that my aunt's house is a really nice place- it overlooks a sparkling, pristine bay with beautiful headlands and a natural harbour surrounded on all sides by the houses of the rich and famous.

The major downside of visiting their place is, of course, the fact that these relatives of mine are hard-core libprogs. That part of the world is practically overrun with such rabbits.

And it doesn't help that I turned to the dark side years ago, and have since simply become more curmudgeonly and right-wing with every passing month.

Now, in spite of what you might think based on my writing, in public, I am usually a very mellow chap. I observe the cardinal rule of polite interaction in society: I don't discuss religion, politics, or sexuality with anyone other than my closest friends and dearest family.

So there I was, sitting outside on a spectacularly beautiful late-June morning, enjoying the sunshine and the cool southern breeze, when my aunt all of a sudden decided to break that rule and got... political.

My aunt is highly intelligent, well-informed (for a liberal who only watches the Clinton News Network, anyway), and extremely well-read. (Her house is filthy with books, in a very literal sense.) But, being highly extroverted where I am highly introverted, she is NOT quiet.

She is also a first-generation immigrant, who has resisted the idea of becoming an American citizen for forty years until this year.

Why has she suddenly decided to change her mind? Because the Hilldebeast is running for POTUS, that's why, and she wants to vote for Shillary, because vagina.

She is married to a man who came to this country, founded a pretty successful magnet manufacturing business, and then got into real estate and did very well for himself- while the good times lasted, at least.

The two are hardcore Democrats; they love voting for people who believe in higher taxes and ever more redistribution of wealth, even as they use every possible trick in the book to reduce their own tax burdens through all sorts of loopholes in the tax code. They believe in bringing in as many immigrants as possible, while hiring folks whose immigration status might be... open to debate, to say the least, to work for them in maintaining their property.

They belong to what Tom Kratman describes as the International Community Of The Ever So Caring And Sensitive (ICOTESCAS)- my aunt has been a card-carrying member since her college days in the 1960s, in fact. I on the other hand belong to that not-so-small segment of the Alt-Right which says, "bugger this for a bag of crisps, time to burn it ALL down!".

Suffice to say that, while I actually do like my extended family, up to a point, we don't exactly see eye-to-eye.

So of course my aunt decided at some point during the morning to ask what I thought of the current political landscape. Being a liberal, of course, and therefore being unaware that a questioner can hardly blame someone if she doesn't like his answers, she asked me who I would vote for in the current Presidential election, if I could vote, with the express goal of tweaking my ear a little.

I turned my head away from the glorious sunshine, looked her straight in the eye, and responded, quite simply: "I would vote for Donald Trump".

I could have placed an active stink-bomb on the patio table and caused less of an uproar than what followed.

The conversation that followed was fascinating- not because it revealed any great political insights or debate, because it didn't, but because of what it revealed about the sheer willful blindness that the elites of this country have with respect to their less fortunate fellows.

When my aunt, uncle, and cousin recovered from their initial shell-shock at hearing what I had said, they immediately asked how the HELL a highly educated, extremely well-read non-resident alien, working for a bank, no less, could POSSIBLY be convinced that the crazy, uneducated, boorish, oafish, clownish, stupid, ridiculously coiffed orange-faced baboon that we know as Donald J. Trump could be President, whose overblown and absurd rhetoric only resonates with low-information voters who are even bigger dumbasses than he is. (I paraphrase only minutely.)

And so I proceeded to calmly point out that Donald Trump has clearly understood what they have not, and almost certainly never will. And despite their attempts to talk over and through me, despite their wanton failures to learn from anything I had to say, I think that perhaps my aunt, at least, realised afterwards that perhaps there is a bigger world out there than the one that she can see.

Mr. Trump has given voice to the inchoate rage and frustration of a huge (or should that be YUUUUGE) segment of the American population, which consists of the losers of globalisation. His platform of America-first nationalism has resonated powerfully with Americans fed up of seeing their jobs disappearing, their livelihoods being sold down the river to China, and Mexico, and Vietnam. He has clearly shown that he loves America, and he takes seriously the threats that she faces. He has faced up to every challenge thrown in his way- while he hasn't responded to them all particularly well, he has done well enough to warrant both respect and admiration.

I told my relatives that they simply could not see what Mr. Trump sees- and what I see. He sees a country brought to its knees by the colossally stupid, traitorous decisions made by its political elites- people very much like the ones I was talking to, people who all grew up in the same neighbourhoods and went to all the same schools and universities and started out working in the same politically connected companies.

He is winning because he appeals to mythical past glories- but he does so because he understands, as they do not, that human progress is not inevitable, and that regression is not only likely but natural. He understands that a huge swathe of the American population is looking at the 1950s with great envy and longing, yearning for a simpler time in which America was strong and her people were free.

My uncle countered by blustering about how we are living in a global economy and are all connected and no one can possibly shut down trade and free movement of labour and so on.

My father, who has even less patience for my uncle's pomposity than I do, shut him down by pointing out, in no uncertain terms, that if he were a blue-collar worker whose job had just been lost because of "globalisation" and NAFTA, he would not be nearly so sanguine about the benefits of such a system. And if he were living in the American rust belt, near the now-shuttered factories of Ohio or Pennsylvania, or the coal mines of Virginia, and could not see any possible return to prosperity, he might be far more willing to listen to a candidate like Donald Trump who spoke of restoring American jobs and American greatness.

My old man, I should make it clear, is no fan of The Donald's, at all. But he, like me, recognises a master of political rhetoric when he sees one. And I think that he admires, in a coldly dispassionate sort of way, the incredible skill that Mr. Trump routinely displays in defanging his critics and drawing their poison.

My cousin, who as I have said I admire immensely, stated bluntly that he simply could not see how Trump could win. He said that the demographics of the country make it impossible, after all of Trump's statements about women and Hispanics and Muslims.

I simply looked at him, smiled, and said, "come back and talk to me in September, and then we'll see about whether or not he can win." (It turns out that I didn't have to wait even that long.)

And you know what?

THEY STILL DIDN'T GET IT.

And they won't anytime soon, either.

These people are some of the most successful one-percenters in America- on the surface, at least. My uncle and aunt came here and made the most of the opportunities that they received. They became wealthy and very comfortable. (Much of that wealth, I recently learned, was founded on debt, which I absolutely loathe- and they are now paying a very steep price for that.)

But they have spent so long among people like themselves- rich, successful, liberal to the max because they have eliminated much of the need for competition and struggle in their lives- that they have forgotten the realities of the ordinary American.

The real America does not exist in the bubble that is Manhattan. It does not exist in the extremely wealthy suburbs of northern Long Island. It exists in the "backwater" small cities and towns and villages and farms of the countryside.

Spend any amount of time driving through upstate New York, or rural New Jersey, or Pennsylvania, or Vermont, as I have and love to do, and you will immediately see how differently people think out there, where daily life is reasonably comfortable but still something of a struggle, and where a man's support system comes from his community and not his rich friends.

That is the real America. And my relatives, whether they admit it or not, have a deep-seated contempt for it.

They don't believe that it exists. They don't consider its opinions worthy or relevant. They don't think that those bitter clingers, who obsess about guns and religion, are important.

My aunt even said as much when I stated how much I like Texas; as I said, I love the fact that Texas believes in God, guns, and glory, in order, descending. She responded with bewilderment, saying, "well I don't understand two out of... no, actually, I don't understand any of those things".

Their entire worldview revolves around the fact that, because they came to America and did well, and all of the immigrants they know did the same, rhetoric about deporting tens of millions of immigrants and building walls and tearing up trade agreements and so on is flatly insane.

They are incapable of understanding that the average American's experience with immigrants is nothing like theirs.

About an hour's drive away from where they live is an area of the borough of Queens known as Jamaica. If you drive or walk through there, you will swear that you are in some Third World hellhole, not in the busiest and probably most prosperous city in the world. Having been to some of those Third World hellholes, I can tell you that driving through Jamaica felt a lot like driving through a city in India or Bangladesh. It is not a fun experience, at all; by comparison, driving through lily-white Vermont is a great pleasure in and of itself, not least because New Englanders are a stout-hearted and polite people with many admirable qualities.

That is a much more accurate reflection of the average American's experience with unlimited immigration. That is what they do not, and cannot, understand.

Now here's the real kicker. In almost every way, I am exactly the kind of person who should hate Donald Trump.

I am a non-resident alien from one of the very countries that Mr. Trump (rightly) demonises so regularly for taking American jobs. I was educated in private schools for my entire childhood, and went to two of the most academically rigourous and demanding schools anywhere in Australia and Singapore.

I hold degrees from two of the world's best (supposedly) and most elite globalist universities. I work in a big international bank.

I should, by rights, be ardently in favour for Hillary- if it weren't for the fact that her pinched face and shrill nasal voice and utter lack of any discernible moral fibre makes me sick to my stomach every time I have to watch or listen to her.

I am a part of the very same elite that spawned the loathsome swamp-slime that is the Hilldebeast. I make no apologies for this; I do not pretend for one moment to be "one of the boys", and I have no problem with who I am.

So why then do I support Donald Trump?

Because unlike my relatives, I do not have contempt for "middle America". I understand, as they do not, that those "unwashed masses" are America- and that America feels under attack as never before in its history.

And because, like me, he is a traitor to his class.

As I said to my relatives that day, Mr. Trump has turned his back upon everything that created him. He has spat in the faces of the very globalist elite that once considered him part of their cabal. He has taken on immense personal, professional, reputational, and commercial risk for the sake of his convictions. He has ensured that, no matter what else happens, he will never be able to go back to being part of that elite club the way he once was.

Trump Muad'dib's ascension, and his likely victory in November, is the first sign of hope that the people of this country have had in something like a generation. The TEA Party was a brave attempt, but it was co-opted quickly by the elites. Mr. Trump, however, has thus far refused to be silenced or co-opted, much to his credit.

For the first time in about 40 years, the American people now have a real choice- between a virile and proud nationalist who loves this country and what it stands for, and a lying shriveled-up old hag of a globalist, a career criminal and rapist-covering scumbag, who would happily sacrifice the souls of as many voters as it takes to the Dark One in order to gain political power.

I, for one, am very much looking forward to sitting at my aunt's dinner table this Thanksgiving and giving thanks for being able to say, with immense relish, the words, "President Donald J. Trump".

Wednesday, 29 June 2016

Trap Lord swag


It turns out that the Trap Lord doesn't just make darkly funny video roasts of gym idiots doing... well, idiotic things. He also has his own apparel line.

I bought the lifting TriForce (Water Temple) t-shirt a few weeks ago, and was finally able to work out in it today. I have to say, Elgin's stuff is pretty good- the shirt is very comfortable, absorbs sweat well, breathes easily, and has a great design.

Also- and not like this matters to powerlifters, of course- it makes you look pretty damn good, if you actually have muscles worth looking at.

Looking good is, for a powerlifter, synonymous with being a Richard Simmons-level flaming homosexual humping the leg press machine. We don't go to the gym to look good or to hit on girls; to quote the great Dom Mazetti, powerlifting is all about being weird and hurting yourself for fun.

Nonetheless, it is still nice to be able to wear a shirt into the gym that makes you look as strong as you actually are.

Elgin's gear won't help you get laid. (Then again, neither will doing squats or deadlifts; they help you build up a tolerance for pain, suffering, and extremely hard work- which in turn will help you get laid, if you apply those lessons- but by themselves, they'll impress dudes more than dames.) But they might just make your workouts a little more pleasant, a bit more colourful, and a lot more comfortable.

There are two major downsides to buying stuff from Elgin's store. The first is that his best stuff isn't always in stock; the blue TriForce shirt that I bought, for instance, isn't currently available, which is annoying, to say the least. The second is that it takes a long time to ship; I bought the shirt like three weeks ago and only got it last week.

Even so, I'd say that the quality and the overall look and feel of the apparel is worth it.

I don't get paid for endorsing his stuff, but I would happily recommend it to others like me. So, get thee some righteous lifting gear, and go forth into the gym to lift as a manly man of epic manliness.

Tuesday, 28 June 2016

Islam is the problem

Oh, hey, look, Islamists just launched yet another attack. News and pictures at 7...

And it's about damned time that the "proposition nation" (((conservatives))) started waking up and realising that this is not going to stop, that this is not just some horrible nightmare that America can wake up from, and that Islam is very clearly the reason for our current mess:



One would expect that most educated and reasonably intelligent adults would be capable of recognising what people like Bill and I have recognised for years. But they cannot, for a number of reasons.

The problem starts with liberals and progressives- the ideologies to which roughly 30% of the American electorate professes. Liberals are, of course, a lost cause; being the r-selected rabbits that they are, they suffer from severe cognitive dissonance and are thus completely unable to name the mortal threat to Western civilisation posed by Islam. Never mind asking them to confront it- they are by their very nature incapable of confronting predators openly, and as a result they are terrified by what they see, to the point of being willing to turn against anyone and anything that dares call the beast at their door by its true name.

What liberals need to understand- and what I hope more of them will understand after the Orlando massacre- is that the problem does not lie with "radical Islam", not "extremist Islam", and not "fundamentalist Islam", but with Islam, full stop.

There is no such thing as "moderate Islam". Islamic scripture, philosophy, scholarship, and history have all rejected "moderate" interpretations of the canonical texts. There are moderate Muslims, to be sure. Many of us work with them, live beside them, and are friends with them. But it must be understood, once and for all, that their moderation is in fact borne out of either ignorance of their own scriptures and commandments, or out of a recognition (conscious or otherwise) that doctrines frozen in the 7th Century are not compatible with 21st Century norms and behaviours. And as such, moderate Muslims have chosen to either adapt their views, or ignore their scriptures altogether.

That is all well and good for them. But let us please stop pretending that the great and mysterious mass of "moderate Muslims" will somehow save the West from suffering the ravages of Islamic aggression. It will not, and to argue otherwise, in the face of literally centuries of evidence to the contrary, is egregiously and unforgivably stupid.

So that is liberals taken care of. We know that they will not understand the threat posed by Islam even as their enemies wrap fingers around their throats and shoot examples of their "acceptable alternative lifestyle" du jour down in cold blood in nightclubs and concert halls. We know that they will continue to treat Islam as some sort of mythical Lord Voldemort, that cannot be named because it might offend Muslims- because obviously their feeeeeeelings are more important than the piles of bodies that Islamists continue to create every day.

But what about most mainstream American conservatives? Well, there we see some signs of hope- but not many.

By this, I do not mean that cuckservatives are unwilling and unable to call Islam what it is. I mean instead that they flatly refuse to see the blatant contradictions posed by their insistence on pushing for more open borders, more globalisation, and more free movement of capital and labour, in the face of their willingness to recognise that Islam is incompatible with Western civilisation.

It is high time that conservatives of every stripe understand clearly that, if they want to stop what is clearly a dangerous enemy from harming Americans and their allies, they need to stop importing Muslims from Third World nations so that they can bring their vibrant and diverse cultures over to the West and impose their multiculturalism upon the rest of us.

The shootings in Orlando and San Bernardino served as clear warnings of far worse to come. They also served as unmistakably clear notice that America's insane and catastrophically stupid policy of high net immigration has failed.

To liberally paraphrase a certain quite famous poem inscribed on a certain even more famous statue planted on an island not very far away from where I live, the tired, the poor, the huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of those teeming shores, have not magically turned into good Christian civilised Americans overnight simply by landing on American soil. It would appear that it takes rather longer than just a generation or two of exposure to America, its culture, and its people, to become integrated into American society.

Whoever would have thought that to be possible?!?

Islam is, quite simply, the single greatest external threat facing the West today. Actually, it's been the single greatest threat for the last 1,400 years, but the West was able to get away with ignoring it for a few centuries because of the terrible toll paid in blood and treasure in critical battles like Lepanto and the Siege of Vienna, when Islam's last great expansion was first defeated and then finally stopped cold. As a result, the Western world has for the last 400 years been able to enjoy a fairly long breather in the Long War. But that breather is over now, and the Long War grinds on.

That war will not stop until the true name and nature of the enemy is recognised, clearly and without reservations.

Fighting back starts with ending all immigration from Muslim nations. It continues with blunting the power of political Islam in both the domestic and foreign arenas. And it ends in only one way: victory, or total defeat and the destruction of what remains of Christendom.

And there is no longer any point in attempting to declare neutrality in this war. Islam recognises no such thing as neutrality; it recognises only converts, subjects, or enemies. I am not Muslim; nor am I Christian. But I know damn well that I infinitely prefer living in a Christian society to living in a Muslim one- and unlike most liberals and most conservatives in this country, I have actually lived in a society dominated by Islam, so I have a far better idea of what it is like than either group.

"Open war is upon us, whether you would risk it or not". Fighting back begins with recognising who and what the enemy is, and refusing to negotiate or compromise with it under any circumstances.

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