The Left Cannot Afford To Be Wrong In Public

     Everything faded into mist. The past was erased, the erasure was forgotten, the lie became truth. — 1984

     Which way would you bet? “On what?” you ask. On whether this brief interview will be quietly suppressed:

     Phillip: I should note that you did vote against the defense appropriations bill this week, the rule to…

     Gaetz: Abby, this is going to be a very embarrassing moment when the internet corrects you on this. I voted for the defense rule both times.

     Phillip: Well, I, uh, stand corrected. Congressman, thank you for joining us tonight.

     A movement, or a regime, that demands your total allegiance and compliance at all times must never, ever allow reality to intrude. A single objective, verifiable fact, if it contradicts “The Party’s” assertions, can bring down its whole edifice. They who seek to know will always follow the trail that one fact opens to them: that there is an objective reality, and that “The Party” is its enemy.

     As was so often the case, Rand knew it too:

     “There was a time when men were afraid that somebody would reveal some secret of theirs that was unknown to their fellows. Nowadays, they’re afraid that somebody will name what everybody knows. Have you practical people ever thought that that’s all it would take to blast your whole, big, complex structure, with all your laws and guns—just somebody naming the exact nature of what you’re doing?”

     Back later.

They should have snuck across the Southern border

And their first words to any US Government person should have been “¿Donde esta la biblioteca?” Instead, we get this.

… in September 2023, the Romeikes were told during a routine check-in that their deferred status had been revoked. The family was given four weeks to apply for German passports, so they could be deported to Germany. The family had no prior warning, and was offered no explanation, other than that there had been a “change of orders.”

In the 10 years that the Romeikes have lived peacefully in the United States, they’ve built a second life: they have two children who are American citizens, and two other children who married American citizens (one of these couples recently welcomed their first child).

So if you can run, jump or swim across the Rio Grande while carrying the flag of your invading country, you get welcomed with open arms and given thousands of dollars (our tax dollars) in goods and services while being invited into any part of the country that you want to go.

Do things legally, and you get screwed. Be a Christian family, you get screwed. Marxist illegal alien wetbacks get immediate aide and help, Christian homeschoolers get the shaft. If you’re a Christian, a homeschooler, or anyone who actually believes that the Constitution should be followed, then the government hates you and will actively work against you, while welcoming your replacements that flood across the Southern border by the thousands every day.

Some days there isn’t enough coffee to keep me calm. I have wood-cutting to do. Perhaps a good chainsaw session where I imagine the various government agencies tied to a log will get rid of some stress.

A Diversionary Musing

     I know, I know: most of what I write, here or elsewhere, would be considered rather “off-axis” by readers and writers with mainstream sensibilities. But I write first of all for myself. Consider it a purgative that doesn’t produce messes on the bathroom floor. And let us quickly leave that unfortunate metaphor, and proceed to the substance of today’s screed.

***

     I have that old Howard Beale quote uppermost in mind just now:

     I don’t have to tell you things are bad. Everybody knows things are bad. It’s a depression. Everybody’s out of work or scared of losing their job. The dollar buys a nickel’s worth. Banks are going bust. Shopkeepers keep a gun under the counter. Punks are running wild in the street and there’s nobody anywhere who seems to know what to do, and there’s no end to it. We know the air is unfit to breathe and our food is unfit to eat, and we sit watching our TVs while some local newscaster tells us that today we had fifteen homicides and sixty-three violent crimes, as if that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

     We know things are bad — worse than bad. They’re crazy. It’s like everything everywhere is going crazy, so we don’t go out anymore. We sit in the house, and slowly the world we are living in is getting smaller, and all we say is: ‘Please, at least leave us alone in our living rooms. Let me have my toaster and my TV and my steel-belted radials and I won’t say anything. Just leave us alone.’

     My morning’s survey resulted in a “Future Columns” folder with twelve links in it, all of them marked “Must address this.” It had been empty before I started to go through my news and op-ed sources. The collection was composed entirely of stories that had me aflame with righteous fury. If one of your loved ones has an Irish temper, you really don’t want him to encounter the number of incitements to rage that I experienced so far this morning. Trust me on that.

     One story was about the “disaster” some clown foretells from the threatened government shutdown. His main concern was for the LGBTQ crowd and its “rights.” With that to top off the slag heap, I was barely able not to scream:

     I’m not sure how I managed to refrain.

     So I’ve decided to write a little about storytelling.

***

     The imperatives of storytelling are uniform across all media. Whether you’re producing a short story, a novel, a screenplay, a poem, a movie, or some other form of narrative, you must obey the same commandments:

  1. Give the audience what it wants;
  2. Don’t waste its time or effort.

     Fairly simple stuff, really. Yet a lot of would-be storytellers never quite get it. Some are led astray by their admiration for something some other writer has said, or has done. Some fixate on an aspect of technique that should remain subordinate to the telling of the story. Some are unable to give their chosen tale the right pacing, or the right emphasis, or the right collection of characters through whom to tell it. In this as in other complicated undertakings, there are many ways of failing to honor the two commandments enumerated above.

     The commandments should evoke questions:

  1. What does the audience want?
  2. What would waste its time or effort?

     Today I’d like to focus on the first of those questions, because I think once it’s been answered, the answers to the second one will become utterly plain.

***

     There’s an old movie – it was released in 1971 – that provides a striking example of “what the audience wants.” Its plot is pretty simple, really. The viewpoint character is a teenage boy on a resort island during the summer of a year of the Second World War. As is the case with many teenage boys, he’s anxious to taste the pleasures of the flesh. In this quest he comes in contact with a slightly older woman, whom he tries somewhat clumsily to impress. (Hey, he is a teenager.) Late in the movie, after the protagonist has had some awkward experiences with a girl his age, the woman receives word from the Army that her husband has been killed in battle. She turns to the teenage protagonist for what Robert A. Heinlein called “the only way to console a widow.” Shortly thereafter, the woman leaves the island for home; the teenager will never see her again.

     It’s not an exalted movie, really. It’s told in fits and starts. Some of the dialogue rings strangely in a contemporary ear. The music, while catchy, is a bit syrupy. And the scenery on the island is beautiful enough to be distracting, though I doubt any filmmaker would prefer boring or ugly scenery for his story’s backdrop. But it gives the audience what it wants, in quantity. Stanley Kubrick, himself no slouch at storytelling, called it one of his favorites.

     The audience wants an emotional journey: people going through changes that affect them deeply. All else is either technique or irrelevancy.

***

     If the story you plan to tell can evoke the reader/viewer’s emotions, and if you can “stay out of the way” in telling it, it will work. It will give the audience what it wants. That’s no guarantee, of course, that your audience will be large. I’m the opposite of a promotion and marketing expert, as my circulation figures testify rather loudly. But I know stories.

     Yes, there are traps and pitfalls. Yes, it’s possible to be overly dramatic, or overly maudlin. Some narrative techniques are unsuitable to some stories. Some writers indulge in stylistic arabesques that distract the reader from the story being told. But these are consequences of inappropriate (or inappropriately applied) technique. They proceed from how the story is told. The proof is in this: There are only three basic stories. All of them are about what makes a person change:

  1. He can change as a result of introspection;
  2. He can change because of an interaction with others;
  3. He can change because of a challenge presented by his world, whether or not he meets it successfully.

     The story told by the movie I described above is of the second variety. Writers discussing the storyteller’s art sometimes call it the Boy Meets Girl story. And though stories of its kind have been told innumerable times, it remains as fresh as the sunrise.

     Excuse me? What was the movie I was talking about above? It’s Summer of ’42, starring Gary Grimes and Jennifer O’Neill. It’s available on DVD, and from Amazon Prime as a rental. And if I ever write something half as affecting and memorable, I’ll call myself a writer.

The Leftist fascism strikes again.

Never, ever, ever ever everevereverever use Fecesbook as a source of information.

Like many people, I have a presence on fecesbook. For me, it’s about motorcycle rides, motorcycle groups and motorcycle activities. For a multitude of reasons, many of the various motorcycle groups out there use fecesbook as a way to get their events out to the public, and I love riding, so I do what I have to do in order to find the rides and the groups.

Along with that, I am part of a small military minded group of people who have a group chat. Not even a page, just a chat group where we can kibitz about the latest going-ons, do some brainstorming and complain about the latest bone-headed moves by the leadershits that are currently in charge.

Yesterday I had read this Substack regarding the infected anal wart known as General Mark “Did you assume my pronouns” Milley, who is an unmitigated failure at every level, who’s performance as CJCS would have his predecessors hung from lamp-posts. We’re talking about an ulcerated herpes sore who assured the Chicoms that he would call them if Trump did something he didn’t agree with, who presided over the disaster in Afghanistan that allowed BILLIONS of dollars of weapons and equipment and technology to fall into the Taliban’s hands, and thus into Russia, China and Iran’s hands. This, in a sane world, would be called “Giving Aide and Comfort to the Enemy” and result in a short drop and a quick stop, but we don’t live in a sane world. This grotesque parody of a warrior sat on his thumbs while military readiness began dropping like a stone due to his woke “leadership”, getting to the point where the Army, rather than being able to recruit actual warriors, DOWNSIZED THE FORCE by approximately 15,000 troops.

That, my friends, is a DIVISION worth of missing recruits. That is a level of failure that should have sent Milley to Ft. Leavenworth for the rest of his life. At the very least, he should have been booted from his position in disgrace. Instead, he’s allowed to sail off into the sunset (and his future seven-figure job at some military-industrial industry) while the Army that he sunk into a morass of woke idiocy and complacency can’t find the troops to fulfill it’s mission.

Don’t even get me started on Lloyd Austin, that walking piece of shit. He shouldn’t just be hung. Hanging is too good for him. A firing squad is too good for him. That ignorant, arrogant ass should be drawn and quartered for his sins against this country, the military as a whole and my Army.

Now, where was I? Oh yes, the Substack piece. I tried to send a link to my military pals over the group chat. It failed to send. Huh. Well, I went and found a work-around link, tried to send it, and it failed to send yet again. As I was searching through the links, trying to find out why I couldn’t send a simple link in a group chat, I came across this:

Fecesbook is already setting the battlefield up for the National Socialist Democrat Worker’s Party. Any dissent cannot be allowed. Any argument against their idols must be stopped. Any pushback against their narrative will be blocked.

Never use fecesbook for any kind of news or real information. You won’t be able to get it. The truth is lies. Up is down. Black is white. Good is bad. We’ve always been at war with Eastasia. Love Big Brother.

And it’s only going to get worse. Act accordingly.

If You Squint With The Sun Behind You…

     …it does rather look like evidence of a decades-long, world-girdling conspiracy in motion, doesn’t it? But I wouldn’t want to sound like one of those “QAnon types,” so perhaps I should just present the evidence for my Gentle Readers’ assessment.

***

1. Thou Shalt Not Mention The Evidence!

     I admire anyone who’s willing to brave the storms of racial propaganda and animosity…the storms coming from Negroes and Leftists, that is. One such intrepid commentator is Heather Mac Donald:

     Iconoclast Heather Mac Donald is not shy about sharing her opinion, and never has that been more apparent than at recent talk at UC Berkeley School of Law, during which the bestselling author staunchly defended the themes in her recent book “When Race Trumps Merit.”

     Mac Donald’s visit, hosted by the Federalist Society, prompted a protest consisting of about two dozen students in the audience who held signs such as “Black Lives Matter” and “Equity is beautiful” and asked pointed questions, including from one student who said he felt “assaulted” by her arguments.

     There it is right out in front of God and everybody: the “I feel unsafe!” cry from those who can’t bear to look at unpleasant facts. But let’s return to the article:

     “I just want to tell you right now that your book is racist, your arguments are racist. They are based in eugenics. They are based on ideas that black people and brown people can never compete with white and Asian counterparts,” one law student said during the Q&A, asking why anyone should take her work seriously when all she does is “peddle racist drivel.”

     Here’s the “law student” who made that statement:

     And here’s what Mac Donald actually said:

     “If I believe that blacks can never compete, I would say, yeah, we’ve got to lower standards, because that’s the only hope for getting diverse institutions. In fact, I believe that if we held … high expectations that blacks would successfully compete,” Mac Donald said.

     Is she right about that? I don’t think so myself, but who the BLEEP! am I to have an opinion? The “law student” in the photo above has an opinion, though; you can infer it from her “racist / eugenicist” statement. Do you think she wants Negroes to be held to the same standards as white and Asian students?

     Now, now, let’s not always see the same hands!

***

2. The Day Care Business Must Not Be Lucrative Enough.

     Well, if you must supplement the proceeds this way:

     A kilogram of fentanyl was stored on top of children’s play mats used for napping at the New York City day care where a 1-year-old boy died from exposure to the drug, according to a new federal criminal complaint.
     […]
     Day care operator Grei Mendez and tenant Carlisto Acevedo Brito are now facing federal charges of narcotics possession with intent to distribute resulting in death and conspiracy to distribute narcotics resulting in death, according to federal prosecutors.
     In a case that’s “shocked the conscience of the city,” the defendants allegedly “poisoned four babies and killed one of them because they were running a drug operation from a day care center” in the Bronx, Damian Williams, U.S. Attorney for Southern District of New York, said at a news conference Tuesday.

     I wouldn’t worry too much about this incident, Gentle Reader. Cases that “shock the conscience of the city” seldom evoke changes to established ways, especially when the persons involved are Negro or Hispanic. Besides, it was only one kid that died. But tell me, please: do you put your children into a day care center? What sort of persons own and operate it, pray tell? Do you know anything about their after-hours activities, or their associates, or their criminal records?

***

3. The Left Does Seem To Have A Problem With Kids, Though.

     Dave Blount has the story:

     Kamala Harris has been making herself useful to her party by going on the road to promote abortion:

Harris’ speech at North Carolina A&T University on Sept. 15 was part of her “Fight for Our Freedoms College Tour,” an effort to mobilize college students to vote and support the Democratic agenda on a variety of issues, including the expansion of abortion.

     Prolife students responded by gathering on the Greensboro campus to express opposition to killing unborn children.

     According to members of the group, they engaged in positive dialogue with students on campus. When the vice president’s speech was over, however, things got ugly.

     Moonbats stole signs from the prolifers.

     One young man can be seen taking the Students for Life group’s marker and sign and writing “BLM,” otherwise known as Black Lives Matter, on it. The crowd cheered as he raised the sign and danced around.

     This should help clarify matters for anyone unclear on whether pro-abortion militants are merely mistaken or malevolent:

     Two others can be seen on video holding up signs that say “F*** dem kids,” while the crowd is heard chanting the same.

     Sometimes, comment is unnecessary.

***

4. A Great Light Dawns.

     The more sobersided commentators in the Right have refrained from calling a spade a spade when the implications of its spadehood are “extreme.” But as we totter ever nearer to an abyss from which there can be no recovery, even the most restrained of them are beginning to speak plainly:

     Why won’t Biden comply with the law and close the border? By adhering to his constitutional responsibility, he would end a massively unpopular policy that, as Secretary Braverman says, threatens the democratic legitimacy of his administration. So why is he so insistent on opening the doors to millions of illegal immigrants?

     I think there is only one plausible answer. I think that admitting tens of millions of illegal immigrants is a critically important part of the Democratic Party’s strategy for perpetuating its own power. There are several long-term tides that are running against the Democrats. Republicans have more children than Democrats do, and minorities that used to vote reliably Democrat are shifting toward the GOP. How can the Democrats retain their grip on power? By adding many millions of residents who, through pervasive voter fraud, will provide winning electoral margins. And their children will be able to vote legally.

     Out of my longstanding admiration for the author of that piece, I shall restrain myself from a snarky rejoinder. But it must be frankly said that every item of relevant evidence since the Usurpers took control of Washington has made it plain that one of their primary goals is to increase illegal immigration to the highest possible level:

  • They’ve halted the construction of the border wall.
  • They’ve sold the unused wall components to prevent their use.
  • They’ve relocated illegals into the interior of the country by bus and plane.
  • In an act of previously unimagined defiance, they’ve welded the gates in the border wall open.

     The only thing they haven’t done is kidnap foreign nationals from their home countries and fly them to the U.S. willy-nilly. And don’t bet the rent money that that’s not in their back pockets should their current machinations not suffice.

***

5. In Closing.

     You don’t have to be Catholic to appreciate the penetration and eloquence of the writers who adorn The Catholic Thing. One such frequent contributor is John M. Grondelski:

     A Catholic philosopher might explain ressentiment through the prism of our orientation to the good. Because human beings are hardwired for the good, they even choose evil under the appearance of good. And because that hardwiring also structures the human mind, the person who persists in evil must redefine reality so that down is up, and evil is good. Ressentiment is very much the spiritual rebel’s philosophical response to “Did God really say. . . ?”

     Ressentiment also seems to have a parasitic relationship to nominalism, the belief that names are mere conventions. The ease with which ressentiment reshuffles the “labels” of a real order creates, especially for the woke, a new order of being. For example, abolishing the dreaded “gender binary” becomes absolutely compelling. It’s not just a “label.” It’s a mandatory new “value.”

     […]

     The diminution of religion from right to merely (or even primarily) interest tainted whatever it touched, so the exclusion of religion from public life was – at least to elites – desirable. It was, in fact, a degradation, as Shaw’s quotation shows: by leveling religion to a mere “interest,” one could then balance religious workers’ claims to Sabbath observance against the necessity of the atheist’s need for Sunday delivery of his vegan tofu ranchero wheatberry salad. Free exercise is clearly “a genuine threat to. . .businesses. . .[serving] diverse population[s].” Now we know the really important “interests.”

     Please read it all. You don’t have to be Catholic to appreciate Dr. Grondelski’s insight and force.

***

     That’s all for today, Gentle Reader. I’ve just glanced fleetingly at my agenda, and I’m thinking seriously of taking a full-time job once again so I can get some rest. Whatever, be well.

Were You Called? How Did You Answer?

     The Parable of the Vineyard can be interpreted in several ways:

     Jesus told his disciples this parable:
     “The kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out at dawn to hire laborers for his vineyard. After agreeing with them for the usual daily wage, he sent them into his vineyard.
     Going out about nine o’clock, the landowner saw others standing idle in the marketplace, and he said to them, ‘You too go into my vineyard, and I will give you what is just.’ So they went off.
     And he went out again around noon, and around three o’clock, and did likewise.
     Going out about five o’clock, the landowner found others standing around, and said to them, ‘Why do you stand here idle all day?’ They answered, ‘Because no one has hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You too go into my vineyard.’
     When it was evening the owner of the vineyard said to his foreman, ‘Summon the laborers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and ending with the first.’
     When those who had started about five o’clock came, each received the usual daily wage. So when the first came, they thought that they would receive more, but each of them also got the usual wage. And on receiving it they grumbled against the landowner, saying, ‘These last ones worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us, who bore the day’s burden and the heat.’
     He said to one of them in reply, ‘My friend, I am not cheating you. Did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? Take what is yours and go. What if I wish to give this last one the same as you? Or am I not free to do as I wish with my own money? Are you envious because I am generous?’
     Thus, the last will be first, and the first will be last.”

     [Matthew 20:1-16]

     That parable has been cited as a caution against envy, and also as a proclamation of the generosity of God. But there’s a third approach (at least!) that one seldom hears, and is just as valuable as the others.

     Each of the workers mentioned above was called to labor in the vineyard. There’s no mention of any who disdained the call…yet we may imagine that there were some who preferred to laze away the day rather than to stoop and sweat over someone else’s grape arbors. This has special force when we consider those whom the landlord approached earliest in the day. Were there any who dismissed that early summons? Did he “re-call” them at nine, or at noon, or at three, or at five? We don’t know; Jesus said nothing to that effect. Perhaps He did…but perhaps He didn’t.

     Human life is limited and uncertain. He who spurns the dawn call might never receive another. We are not given to know. To be certain of his “pay,” he who is called to the vineyard must answer affirmatively. He must not wave in dismissal and say, “Maybe later.”

     There’s a clear parallel with the Parable of the Virgins and the Bridegroom:

     Then shall the kingdom of heaven be likened unto ten virgins, which took their lamps, and went forth to meet the bridegroom. And five of them were wise, and five were foolish. They that were foolish took their lamps, and took no oil with them: But the wise took oil in their vessels with their lamps.
     While the bridegroom tarried, they all slumbered and slept. And at midnight there was a cry made, Behold, the bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet him. Then all those virgins arose, and trimmed their lamps. And the foolish said unto the wise, Give us of your oil; for our lamps are gone out. But the wise answered, saying, Not so; lest there be not enough for us and you: but go ye rather to them that sell, and buy for yourselves.
     And while they went to buy, the bridegroom came; and they that were ready went in with him to the marriage: and the door was shut.
     Afterward came also the other virgins, saying, Lord, Lord, open to us.
     But he answered and said, Verily I say unto you, I know you not.
     Watch therefore, for ye know neither the day nor the hour wherein the Son of man cometh.

     You cannot be certain that you will be called more than once. Some are; some aren’t – and we cannot know why. To decline the first summons might be the end of your journey.

     And of course, those who are called and answer affirmatively must be prepared to labor. How? It will depend on your station in life and what gifts you possess. Are you energetic? Are you articulate? Are you a particularly empathetic and compassionate soul? Are you materially fortunate? About those things, only you can be certain.

     May God bless and keep you all.

Trustworthy Motives

     It’s all too often the case that one is tempted to do something he knows is wrong by a prospect for personal gain. Temptations of that sort are the most reliable for the evocation of evil. And of course, the larger the gain at stake, the stronger the temptation.

     In a column of great importance, Brownstone Institute founder Jeffrey Tucker asks a plaintive question about a stunning contemporary phenomenon: The Valorization Of The Tyrants:

     This is surely one of the strangest twists in official narratives in perhaps hundreds of years. The bad guys have been christened as the good guys, and the good guys have been purged, deplatformed, canceled, and demonized. It’s a turn of events none of us could have imagined back in 2020. It cries out for an explanation. I truly fear knowing the answer as to why.

     Tucker mentions in this connection the odious Jacinda Ardern, until recently the supremo of New Zealand, who ruled that nation with an iron fist under the pretext of the COVID-19 “pandemic.” She’s deeply unpopular with her former subjects, but since her fall from power she’s garnered two Harvard fellowships. Moreover, the media have swooned over her, despite her recent denunciation of freedom of speech as “a weapon of war:”

     Quoth Tucker:

     It’s not just Ardern. The whole tiny but global junta that imposed all these policies seemed to be enjoying a glorious send-off by the entire establishment, even though they have been 100 percent wrong about everything. Fauci’s successor is Fauci II, and same with Walensky’s successor at the CDC. And the media propagandists who for three years lied to the public about lockdowns, masks, school closures, and shots are now writing books that are calling people like me the bad guys!

     I almost cannot imagine that this has happened and I cannot fathom why.

     The Establishment’s ruling motivation seems plain enough: We must protect our own. The alternative is a wave of defections and the eruption of internal contests over who shall reign over whom. No Establishment can survive such internal discord. But the questions don’t end there.

     Why are the media seemingly in love with such persons as Ardern, Zelensky, Fauci, and deposed Twitter censor Yoel Roth? Aren’t those people the epitome of everything the media despise? Aren’t they enemies of media freedom? After all, they want to impose censorship – the antithesis of the media’s function. Surely the press would oppose that!

     Not so surely, Gentle Reader. Once again we collide with one of the unpleasant truths of existence: However passionate Smith may be about freedom for Smith, he cares not a fig for Jones’s freedom. Indeed, he may be passionately opposed to it, depending on what consequences he foresees.

     To those in the communications trades, the supreme value is access to information. Today, the information most highly valued by professional communicators is that which flows from governments and the officials thereof. Thus access to those agencies and individuals is the coin of the media realm. He who has such access is understandably jealous of it: he wants to preserve it, to maximize it, and if possible to deny it to his competitors. But his competitors have the same basic motivations.

     The Left has understood this far better than have we on the Right. They’ve pandered to the media so shamelessly as to make a hooker blush. And the media, flattered and seduced by that treatment, have responded by treating their officials and luminaries with extreme deference. Their watchword is Keep the access open. Continuing access guarantees continuing fodder for their publications.

     Both sets of motives – those of the tyrants and those of the reporters and commentators who fawn on them – are highly trustworthy. Indeed, it’s hard to imagine an incentive structure that would have more power. And it is likely to hold sway for as long as we permit the lowest of men and women – individuals that decent persons would cross the street to avoid – power over our lives and liberties.

The Giveaway Headline

     Sometimes, you really don’t need to read any further:

Late-Term Abortion: A Complex Moral Debate in America

     Among the most regular of motifs one can find in the contest over abortion is the contention that it’s “complex.” “A complex subject.” “A complex debate.” “Legally complex.” And each of those formulations has at least some measure of validity. But not this one: “A complex moral debate.”

     Morals are about right and wrong, no? The dividing line that separates what you may from what you mustn’t. That cannot be complex. A specific act is on one side or the other; it cannot be in both places at once.

     Pro-choicers who are “troubled” by late-term abortions have begun to feel a tickle from their consciences. The six-month-old fetus looks very much like what we’ll call him on the other side of the womb: a human baby. It’s not possible to convince oneself that he’s not a human being with a right to life merely because of where he currently resides. And with that, the conscience pangs begin.

     Pro-lifers are strong proponents of ultrasound imaging for that reason among others: Look at what you’re proposing to kill. Confront the reality. Once the mother-to-be has done so, how could she serenely contemplate snuffing him out before he can draw a breath?

     But we should not stop at the appearance alone. While most people have no serious interest in philosophical questions, there’s one that’s too germane to the abortion controversy to be waved aside: If he’s recognizably a baby today, what was he before this?

     The legal aspects of forbidding abortion after some point in gestation are complex, owing to Fourth Amendment-derived rules about bodily privacy and doctor-patient confidentiality. The morality of the matter is not – no matter on which side of the dividing line you prefer to put it.

A Musical Reminiscence

     The older I get, the more my thoughts are occupied by my past. That’s hardly unusual. Neither is it difficult to explain. After all, more of a septuagenarian’s life lies behind him than ahead of him, exceedingly unlikely advances in human longevity excepted. Besides, a man in his seventies hardly has the range of possibilities of a man in his twenties. Worse, the most attractive of the septuagenarian’s possibilities involve eating and sleeping.

     Well, anyway…as with most persons of my generation, my musical tastes were formed many years ago. I had a non-musical upbringing. My childhood home contained no music. That was probably for the best, as 78 RPM records weren’t exactly kind to the material recorded on them. My first significant exposure to music of any sort occurred when I acquired a bedroom radio.

     Whoo! What is this stuff? It’s catchy. It makes you want to move. After you’ve heard it a time or two, you find yourself singing or whistling it. More, more, more!

     During my teenage years I accumulated quite a lot of contemporary music in various formats. To the everlasting sorrow of many, I also learned to play the guitar. (In his novel Past Master, R. A. Lafferty describes the guitar thus:

     “For the love of Saint Jack, what are those, Paul?” Thomas asked in bewilderment. “Are those not the instruments described by Dante as played in the lowest Hell?”

     …and given the way it was played by such as myself back then, with considerable justice. But I digress.)

     And of course, as did most young persons of that time, I acquired favorites: artists and groups that pleased me so greatly that upon hearing that they’d released a new recording, I would rush pell-mell to the nearest music emporium – does anyone else remember Sam Goody? – squander my pittance upon it, and delight in it to the consternation of family and friends.

     Ah, the memories!

***

     Time passes. Tastes change. (That was all the C.S.O. had to say when I broached this line of thought to her.) And sometimes, the discovery that one’s tastes have changed – perhaps even radically – can deliver a serious shock.

     Just recently I got hold of a record from long ago that I played obsessively when I first acquired it. I was thrilled to discover that it was available, and cheaply at that. So upon the instant of its arrival at the Fortress, I stuck it on the turntable, set the needle on the rim, and turned up the volume.

     And I was appalled.

     Omigod omigod omigod. I actually used to like this…music? What was wrong with me back then? What’s happened since then that cured me?

     I pulled the needle off the record, pulled the record off the turntable, shoved the disc into its liner, shoved the whole shebang into its alphabetically proper place in my collection, and sat to think.

     The recording was from a very popular group that was riding high at the time of its release. The record itself was immensely popular. (I think it went platinum.) I remember playing it quite a lot. I think I remember actually enjoying it.

     Well, tastes do change. And other recordings from that same group still please me greatly. Now I have to figure out whether the one in question was a “clinker” that I embraced simply because the group was one of my favorites, or whether there was some other, darker reason connected to…oh, God knows what.

***

     A couple of months ago there was another incident of significance for a slightly different reason. I can’t say why – trust me, Gentle Reader: if I told you, I’d have to kill you – but a particular record from long ago entered my thoughts and refused to leave. The artist was one of the “new troubadours” of the early Seventies. The record in question was his first release, and became exceedingly popular. Indeed, you could hear young people singing snatches from it wherever young people might congregate.

     I was similarly enamored of that record, and eager to hear whatever else the artist might record. But for whatever reason, I was never able to get a copy of his second record. He did have one; I became aware of it soon after its release. But I never found it on the shelves at any store I might visit.

     Well, just recently I scored a copy of that second record, in MP3 format. I was so eager to hear what I’d been waiting for back then that I could not let a moment pass without queueing it up and sitting back to listen.

     The disappointment was total, yet I can’t say why. I still loved the predecessor record from that artist. But the second one fell flat, and I can’t articulate a reason for it. The songs were much like the earlier ones. The instrumentation was the same. The performances and quality of the recording were impeccable. But it did less than nothing for me. It bored me.

     And explanation came there none. I’m still groping for one.

***

     Yes, tastes change. But some of the changes are well nigh impossible to explain. I still listen to a lot of the favorites of my youth, but not all of them. I’ve acquired new tastes as well, for music I dismissed fifty years ago.

     Perhaps better memories are attached to the old favorites I still enjoy. Or perhaps when I listen to them today, I somehow enter into the young titan who first loved them, whose deteriorating shell I inhabit. But there’s no way to know, without contriving a time machine and going back then. And if I could do that, why would I continue to sit here and natter on about all this?

     Well, it seems it’s time to take the legion of pills that sustain this old carcass. I hope there’s some decaf left with which to wash them down. So do have a nice day.

He Who Says “A” And Gets Away With It

     …will inspire others to say “B,” in search of the same privileges.

     Senator Robert Menendez (D, NJ) has been in ethical hot water for most of his time in public life. Perhaps, after so many close shaves, he thought himself invulnerable, but that might not prove to be the case this time around. The evidence of his corruption is varied and copious, and enfolds his wife and several associates in the same web:

     Democratic New Jersey Sen. Bob Menendez is being charged with bribery offenses in a federal indictment out of the Southern District of New York to be unsealed Friday, prosecutors announced.

     “Today, I’m announcing that my office has obtained a three count indictment charging Senator Robert Menendez, his wife, Nadine Menendez, and three New Jersey businessmen, Wael Hana, Jose Uribe and Fred Daibes for bribery offenses,” U.S. Attorney Damian Williams said at a press conference late Friday morning.

     NBC News 4 reported Monday that the FBI and IRS criminal investigators are attempting to determine if Menendez or his wife had taken up to $400,000 worth of gold bars from Fred Daibes, a New Jersey developer and former bank chairman, or his associates in a swap for Menendez reaching out to the Justice Department to aid the “admitted felon” accused of banking crimes.

     The unsealed indictment alleges that from at least 2018 through 2022, Menendez and his wife, Nadine Menendez, “engaged in a corrupt relationship” with Daibes, Wael Hana and Jose Uribe.

     Getting Menendez cut loose would open an escape hatch for all the others, which the Southern District of New York is anxious to avoid. However, for a United States Senator to go down hard at this time would endanger other high-ranking Democrats as well. No doubt the Usurper Regime is looking for a way out. Yet Menedez knows it would be chancy to wait upon the ingenuity and efficacy of the Biden White House.

     So Menendez has decided to play the race card:

     Now that black thugs and felons are getting wrist slaps, if anything, for major crimes, it’s time for a Latino to see if his race card will be accepted. It might work…but with the miasma of corruptions already swirling around the Democrats, and with Menendez’s record of barely eluding prison time in the past, the odds are difficult to compute.

     Of one thing we can be sure: should Menendez resign or be removed from office, his replacement will be another Democrat. In New Jersey, that means that “the show will go on,” for corruption has been so institutionalized there as to be of higher stature than the law itself. All else remains, in an acronym beloved of military specification writers, TBD.

Vacation over

And how to spot a passive-aggressive soy-boy bitch.

As to the vacation, well…. it was awesome. I did a total of about 3,500 miles, hitting up the Tour of Honor sites in Idaho and Oregon. I had to change my rear tire in Boise. I needed to replace my battery in Brookings, OR. I got to meet a reader of the blog, who had emailed me and lived in the general area I was going to ride through. We had a good breakfast and chatted for a bit as my tire was being changed. And since my travels took me down the Pacific Coast Highway, I went a little further and rode through Redwoods National Park. It was a great trip, and I’m looking forward to next year.

Now, how to spot a passive-aggressive soy-boy bitch. Well, when I left, I put up a post that said “Hey, I’ll be gone”. The soy-boy posted his comment there, so that’s clue number one. The second clue is that his sniveling little screed is a non-sequitur about how Idaho gets a bunch federal dollars. He links to a news article for some reason. That didn’t help whatever argument he was trying to make.

So here’s a clue for the passive-aggressive little soy boy bitch: The Federal Government claims more than 65% of all land in Idaho. When the Feds manage to get their claws out of Idaho, then Idaho will take over the maintenance of that property. We could do a far better job of managing that land than the clueless eco-freak snotbubbles that are running it from D.C. But as long as it’s claimed by the Feds, then they damn well better pay for the maintenance of it. Oh gosh, federal dollars are funding an ACTIVE DUTY MILITARY BASE in Idaho? Wow. I wonder who the soy-boy bitch thinks should be paying for that?

Oh, and the story that he linked to? It points out that more than half of the federal aid that Idaho receives goes to Medicaid. Now, for those who don’t yet know, once you start getting Social Security you’re forced onto Medicare part A and B, typically at age 65. If you don’t enroll, you don’t get your SS check. There are a few things that can push that enrollment off, but eventually you’re on Medicare whether you want to be or not.

So the majority of these federal dollars is going to fund a program that the federal government has made mandatory in order for you to get the money you paid in to Social Security. If the feds force you into something, then fuck yes they should be paying for it. How about the feds stop meddling in people’s lives? Could we try that again at some point? And then we wouldn’t need the feds or their Medicare dollars. But facts and inconvenient information don’t have any place in a passive-aggressive little soy-boy bitch’s life. It’s so much easier to hop onto someone else’s blog and vomit out a snarky little comment that he heard from someone else. And you know he’s just regurgitating crap. If he used logic and reason, he never would have left that comment.

And so in conclusion, we have a sighting of a passive-aggressive soy-boy bitch. I would say “in the wild”, but little bitches like that rarely live anywhere they can’t get their half-caf macchiato and avocado toast. Put them anywhere around a dirt road or states with Constitutional Carry and they tend to wet themselves. I don’t quite know what point the soy-boy bitch was trying to make, but he failed in every aspect.

Bah. I think the next time he posts I’ll just do a little creative editing to his comment. I don’t have the time or the patience to deal with soybois these days.

“As A Matter Of Principle”

     Fear not, Gentle Readers. I shan’t torture you with another long exposition on the real meaning of the word principle. Rather, I’d like to underscore an important aspect of the campaign to silence anyone who dissents from the Left-approved narrative.

     I don’t know much about Russell Brand. He’s described at Infogalactic as “an English comedian and actor.” His personal website describes him as “an award-winning comedian, actor, author, public thought leader, and a passionate activist for mental health and drug rehabilitation.” As a rule, I avoid persons who call themselves “activists” or “thought leaders” – I find them “vexatious to the spirit” – so in all probability I’d have gone to my grave knowing nothing about him if it hadn’t been for this development:

     The Sunday Times, a Rupert Murdoch publication in the U.K, published a hit piece against Russell Brand accusing him of rape and sexual assault 20-years ago. It did not take long before the accusations triggered the cancel culture and YouTube demonetized the actor and pundit. Russell Brand has vehemently denied the allegations.

     However, in a remarkable escalation the U.K Parliament is now targeting Russell Brand. The British government has sent a letter to U.S. video platform provider Rumble demanding they take action against Brand. Not only is the British government targeting an individual and demanding action over an unproven allegation, but they are also sending a letter to the U.S. company demanding acquiescence to their censorship demand.

     Apparently, Brand has said some things that disturb the Powers That Be in the United Kingdom. What did he say? I have no idea, and I’m not about to squander the precious seconds of my dwindling free time trying to find out. But until the most recent events, I’d have assumed that, like most “activists” and “thought leaders,” he was somewhere on the political Left. That’s where they’re thickest on the ground, at any rate.

     If Britain’s Parliament is cheesed off enough at Brand to seek to have his videos demonetized, whatever it was that he said must have gone against The Sacred Narrative in some fashion. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. YouTube has already demonetized Brand’s entire oeuvre. Now the British government wants Rumble, a friendly-to-free-expression competitor to YouTube, to do the same.

     Rumble, to my extreme pleasure, has told Parliament to shove it up their honorable asses. That’s as it should be. But it might not be the end of Russell Brand’s troubles.

     When 20-year-old rape allegations are filed against a man, he’s in the deepest of deep shit. Unless he’s videotaped his whole life and kept backups of everything, he can never disprove such allegations. Of course, neither can his accusers prove theirs, but that’s equally irrelevant. The point of the accusations is to provide a rationale for “cancelling” the accused. And as we can see, the tactic is a potent one.

     The cancelling tactic has served the Left so well that it’s come to feel invincible. Its dominance of the big Internet fora – Google, Facebook, YouTube – has resulted in a great reduction of conservative or libertarian opinion on those sites. The allegiance of the mainstream media makes possible campaigns of calumny that are too much for most targets to bear. And so we have arrived at the “mopping-up” phase of the Left’s campaign to stifle dissenting voices: the phase that says, by implication, that the big players are now firmly under their heel.

     I shan’t ask you if you’re troubled by this. If you’re not, you aren’t a regular Gentle Reader of Liberty’s Torch, so you wouldn’t even see the question. This isn’t so much an alarum as another data point on the curve that traces our subjugation. But it suggests that another anti-free-speech stroke might be in the works: this time, against Rumble.

     The point is “principle:” Dissidents must not be allowed any hope. The routes of escape must all be closed. At the conclusion, all will have bent the knee; all will have accepted the yoke; all will chant the Party’s slogans.

     Rand knew it would be that way:

     “Yes, I suppose I should explain,” said Dr. Ferris, “that we wish to get your signature early in the day in order to announce the fact on a national news broadcast. Although the gift program has gone through quite smoothly, there are still a few stubborn individualists left, who have failed to sign—small fry, really, whose patents are of no crucial value, but we cannot let them remain unbound; as a matter of principle, you understand. They are, we believe, waiting to follow your lead. You have a great popular following, Mr. Rearden, much greater than you suspected or knew how to use. Therefore, the announcement that you have signed will remove the last hopes of resistance and, by midnight, will bring in the last signatures, thus completing the program on schedule.”

     All rise for Flag salute. And do have a nice day.

The Chronicle of The DC, 22Sep23: Spurring Cancers

Because my children are genetically at higher risk to cancer than the general public, I view this as a personal attack on my family. I am grateful I’ve been aware of the DC’s machinations for so long that they grew up hearing about it from me.

When you, dear readers, feel the urge to wave off my efforts as “there he goes again,” imagine what it was like for my kids. OTOH, they appeared to take my warnings seriously. I sincerely hope you do too.

At The Djinn Mill

     [A short story for you today. I once asked a college class whether any of the students there had ever been interested in magic. One young woman raised her hand, somewhat timidly. I reassured her that there was no need to be embarrassed about it, for magic, if it really worked, would be a low-effort way to get or do a lot of things that take tremendous effort as matters stand. So also with the existence of djinni – “genies” in the American idiom. Such supernatural beings would make many things possible that aren’t today…but who’s to say whether they would be benevolently disposed towards us? — FWP]

***

     “Khalid!” I cried as he entered the Ajedrez. “I haven’t seen you in an eon. Come sit and hoist a couple with me.” I signaled to the bartender. “Two more Omnipotence Punches, please.” And of course they appeared instantly before us as Khalid squatted on the stool next to mine. He nodded thanks, immediately downed half of his drink, and set it back down looking morose.

     His appearance took me aback. Khalid is lauded among the djinni for his upbeat, can-do attitude – and what he can do in the way of frustrating a human wisher is legendary. Many a human whose wishes Khalid has granted exactly as stated has wished afterward, when thanks to his own avarice all was irretrievably lost, that he had never found Khalid’s lamp. I’d studied his greatest feats with a combination of worshipful admiration and hope that I might someday be half as ingenious.

     Yet here he was looking as if someone had hexed his houris.

     I laid a hand on his shoulder. “What’s troubling you, my friend and mentor?”

     He scowled, finished his drink, and signaled to the bartender for another. The empty glass vanished and a new, full one appeared in its place. The Ajedrez is famous for its customer service.

     “I’ve been defeated,” he grumped.

     “What? How?”

     “I had to grant a human three wishes and couldn’t outthink him on any of them!”

     I sat back, appalled. Khalid’s been beaten on one wish before—we all have—but on all three? Never before. Not him! It was news that shouldn’t be allowed to get around among the humans.

     It was plain that he needed to vent, so I said, very softly, “Would you like to talk about it?”

     “Like?” he said. “Gehenna, no. But I suppose I should. Especially if the way he outfoxed me should become common knowledge.” He turned and looked frankly at me. “What human characteristic do we exploit?”

     I shrugged. “Their greed, of course. Our power seems to promise them the sun, the moon, and the stars, at no cost and no effort.”

     He nodded. “So we encourage them to think big. Ask for whatever you’ve been lusting after. The huge fortune. The godlike body. The movie star lover. Then we exploit the margins they leave unspecified to frustrate them.”

     “It is our function in the scheme of things,” I said. “It teaches them moderation and realism—that their dreams are bigger than their pockets. What they think they want is something no one can have without consequences that render it worthless.”

     “Indeed,” he said. “And the three-wish format gives them just enough rope to hang them with their own avarice. That is the intention, at least.” Animation flooded into his face. “But this one…Najib, I couldn’t tempt him!”

     I couldn’t quite believe what I had heard. “You were found by a human who had no greed in him? None at all?”

     He nodded. “None that I could exploit within the conditions of the three wish system. Perhaps if I’d been able to offer him a fourth one…but that’s been forbidden ever since the invention of the antique brass oil lamp.”

     I waited in silence, desperate to hear everything, but I knew that Khalid had to tell the tale at his own pace. Presently he sipped at his second drink, set it down, and began.

     “When he rubbed my lamp and I saw him for the first time, I thought I’d bagged a prize,” he said. “You would have thought so, too. Short, painfully gaunt, and with a cleft palate. He could barely stand up straight, and when he did he only came up to my waist. His arms and legs were so spindly that they looked like a strong breeze might snap them. The cleft palate made him too unsightly for a woman to look on him with sincere affection, much less lust. From his appearance alone, I was certain he would be the greediest specimen I’d ever encountered! It took all my strength not to cackle over him.”

     Other djinni had noticed that Khalid was holding forth and had clustered around us to listen. I nodded and gestured that he should continue.

     “I told him about the three wishes. He barely reacted. He said he was satisfied with his existence, that he couldn’t think of a thing to wish for.” He chuckled. “I’ve heard disclaimers of that sort before, you know.”

     “As have I,” I said.

     He nodded. “Always before, it’s been a pose. Not this time.

     “So I told him that the three wishes could be saved for a later time, when he might perhaps think of something he wants but doesn’t have. He thought about it briefly,” Khalid said, “and the expression that bloomed on his face made me think that my moment had arrived. He said ‘No, I think I’d better use them at once.’

     “‘Very well, master,’ I said, “What is it that you wish?’

     “‘For my first wish,’ he said, ‘I wish that you relieve me of my tendency to pity myself for my lot in life, for I know self-pity to be a great fault in a man—but leave me unaltered in any other way.’

     “It took me aback,” Khalid said. “It was the first time anyone who found my lamp had wished for an improvement in his character. Humans rarely doubt their own characters. They’re constructed so that each will think himself the standard, the expression of all that is right and worthy. It surprised me so greatly that I granted his wish at once, without any distortion.

     “‘For my second wish,’ he said, ‘I wish that you relieve me of my tendency to envy others who are more fortunate than I, for envy is both a sin in itself and the mother of many other sins—but leave me unaltered in any other way.’”

     It was too much. I gasped in horror. A human incapable of envy? What could djinni and demons do with a race so formed? “Did you honor that wish?” I murmured.

     “I was compelled to do so,” Khalid said. “He had struck twice against his own defects, and had fenced his wishes with exactly the right formula to prevent me from doing him any harm. So I gave him what he had wished for, and said ‘And your third wish?’

     “‘May I give that to my mother?’ he said.

     “‘Sadly, you may not,’ I replied. ‘Your wishes are irrevocably yours, and cannot be transferred to another. Is there nothing else you would wish for?’

     “He lapsed into thought once more, and I became hopeful. He had frustrated me twice, but I was certain he could not do so a third time. So I waited, and after a few moments his expression brightened, and he said ‘Yes, I believe there is something more.’ I smiled and crossed my arms in our traditional fashion.

     “‘My mother is old,’ he said, ‘and has been much afflicted by chance. She is a widow, has little in this world, and only one child, who has always fallen short of her dreams: myself. If it is within your power, O djinn, would you please give my mother the son she has wished for all her life?’”

     The shock was almost unendurable. “Did the human know that we cannot create life, that we are restricted to altering that which is and nothing more?”

     Khalid shrugged. “I do not think so, Najib, but it does not matter. I had to grant his wish, and I did so. And before my eyes, he straightened, grew tall, became fit, trim, and handsome. A fine, straight specimen of young manhood. He could not believe what he had become through that third wish. He sang my praises most fulsomely and ran off to present himself to his mother as I vanished back into my lamp.”

     The djinni gathered around us moaned in sympathy.

     “Let us pray,” I said, “that this episode went unwitnessed, and that no tale of it will ever be told among humans or demons.”

     “If the Lord of All should deign to listen to the prayers of djinni,” he said.

     “Do you think so?” I said.

     “It is uncertain.” He finished his drink, nodded farewell, and left us behind to ponder and lament.

==<O>==

Copyright © 2020 Francis W. Porretto. All Rights Reserved Worldwide.

Conversations

     Haven’t had one of these in a while, have we?

CSO: Owww!
FWP: What’s the matter, Sweetie?
CSO:The water just got too hot, that’s all.

FWP: Well, then that was the wrong noise!
CSO: Hm?
FWP: “Owww!” is the wrong noise for too-hot water. You’re supposed to say “Aieee!”

CSO: Are you feeling all right?
FWP: Look, every kind of distress has its proper noise. If you took a mouthful of disgusting food, what noise would you make?
CSO: Probably “Eugghhh!”

FWP: That’s an entirely appropriate noise. You wouldn’t say “Owww!” would you?
CSO: (reaches for phone book)
FWP: What are you looking for?
CSO: A psychiatrist who makes house calls. Actually I think we’ll need two.

     And how is your morning going, Gentle Reader?

Remember This

     I’m going to start following David Strom:

     [Jacinda] Ardern wore out her welcome as New Zealand’s Prime Minister and abruptly resigned in January, and is staying far away from the New Zealand elections that are occurring next month. Her Xi-like approach to fighting COVID and the free flow of information made her a very unpopular figure in the country, and as with so many political leaders of the Left she has managed to fail upwards, bringing her failed policies and preferences to the rest of the world.

     After her resignation the transnational elite rushed to embrace her, showering her with prestigious positions including a sinecure at Harvard and memberships of Boards. And, of course, a prime speaking spot at the United Nations in which she warned that the world is at war and hence must fight misinformation.

     Because of course it is. The world is always at war. There is always a crisis. If wars and crises were the reason for shutting down freedoms there would never be any–and in fact, that is precisely the goal.

     There’s a wealth of insight in the above – and it’s only a snippet of an excellent column. I don’t have to quote Orwell this time. I have another fiction writer in mind, and the very first story for which he won the then-prestigious Hugo Award:

     EFFECTIVE 15 JULY 2389, 12:00:00 midnight, the office of the Master Timekeeper will require all citizens to submit their time-cards and cardioplates for processing. In accordance with Statute 5557-SGH-999 governing the revocation of time per capita, all cardioplates will be keyed to the individual holder and–

     What they had done was devise a method of curtailing the amount of life a person could have. If he was ten minutes late, he lost ten minutes of his life. An hour was proportionately worth more revocation. If someone was consistently tardy, he might find himself, on a Sunday night, receiving a communique from the Master Timekeeper that his time had run out, and he would be “turned off” at high noon on Monday, please straighten your affairs, sir.

     And so, by this simple scientific expedient (utilizing a scientific process held dearly secret by the Ticktockman’s office) the system was maintained. It was the only expedient thing to do. It was, after all, patriotic. The schedules had to be met. After all, there was a war on!

     But wasn’t there always?

     [Harlan Ellison, “‘Repent, Harlequin!’ Said the Ticktockman”]

     War is, of course, the ultimate in crises. In wartime, the State can “justify” anything, all the way to seizing you bodily, thrusting you onto the front lines…and executing you for “desertion” should you elect to abdicate the role of cannon fodder. Never forget that. Never forget what Randolph Bourne said, either:

“War is the health of the State.”

     Why else would politicians and their flacksters strain to speak of the current “crisis” – almost always something brought about by governments in the first place – as a “war?” “War on Poverty.” “War on Drugs.” “War on Terror.” Jimmy Carter’s characterization of the “energy crisis” – again, entirely an artifact of governments – as “the moral equivalent of war.” And of course today we have the War on Climate Change. Watch for it at a theater near you!

     When will the mighty “We” realize that this con job called “government” has gone on long enough?

A Matter Of Units And Standards

     When it comes to individuals’ Constitutionally guaranteed rights, the lines are sharp and clear. The understanding of a right would not be possible otherwise, for a right divides the universe of actions into permissible and impermissible. Thus, it’s always possible to know when an individual’s right to his life, his liberty, or his honestly acquired property has been violated. In the third case we can usually measure the size of the violation as well, in units of dollars and cents.

     Time was, laws that did not have this “bright line” property were deemed unconstitutional. It was considered an obligation of those who make the laws to make them clear enough that the average citizen could know with high confidence whether his actions are in accord with them, and whether something he’s contemplating would violate them. Plainly, there’s been a slippage in the practice of lawmaking. You can usually detect it in the occurrence of the phrase “reasonable and proper.”

     Things have gotten worse as the ambitions of the political elite have expanded.

***

     Joy Pullman informs us:

     On Sept. 14, the Department of Justice (DOJ) made an emergency Supreme Court appeal to avoid lower court injunctions preventing the White House and federal agencies including the FBI from telling internet speech monopolies which keywords, posts, and accounts to suffocate. The court granted the appeal the same day, pausing lower-court injunctions stopping the federal government from holding a gun to internet monopolies’ heads to tell them what ideas to choke from the online public square.

     The Biden administration didn’t contest any of the more than 20,000 pages of court documents showing essentially every major federal agency pressuring social media monopolies to take down ideas powerful Democrats don’t like or face federal lawsuits, investigations, and the removal of their monopoly powers.

     Instead, it argued that obeying the First Amendment “imposed unprecedented limits on the ability of the President’s closest aides to use the bully pulpit to address matters of public concern, on the FBI’s ability to address threats to the Nation’s security, and on the CDC’s ability to relay public health information at platforms’ request.”

     So the Regime is claiming, quite baldly, that violations of the First Amendment’s guarantee of freedom of speech are required for the sake of “national security.” The claim isn’t that there’s any ambiguity to what’s being done; the Regime concedes that it’s violating the right to freedom of expression. Indeed, it’s demanding that a claim of “national security” trumps the right to speak freely. But that raises certain questions:

  1. What is “national security?”
  2. Is it measurable? If so, by what means and in what units?
  3. What statements and categories of statements affect “national security,” whether positively or negatively?
  4. Is any increment or decrement to “national security,” however slight, a justification for violating an individual’s right to speak freely?
  5. Since the violation of an individual’s rights by a private party is legally actionable, what, then, should occur when a government official or functionary violates an individual’s rights to the detriment of “national security?”

     No, I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for the answers. Keeping the whole thing undefined and undefinable is key to the aspirations of the political class. As matters stand, any sufficiently highly placed federal official or functionary can justify anything, including any violation of any right possessed by anyone, simply by invoking “national security.” It’s a blank check for unlimited and absolute power.

     That such a thing is honored in the law is an obscenity. That people who may reasonably be expected to know what a right is, how it differs from a privilege or a permission, nevertheless go forward to commit rights violations with perfect legal immunity is a condemnation. That We the Formerly Free have not risen up against it testifies to how propagandized, and how thoroughly cowed, we have been.

     The federal government spends nearly $1 trillion per year on national defense. Somehow, the total never decreases, even after major military triumphs and the collapses of America’s enemies. It goes up year after year. And since 1947, the dollars-and-cents expenditures have been accompanied by violations of individuals’ rights.

     When will the exactions rise too high to be borne any longer? When will the State “break the bank?”

***

     Some years ago, I wrote:

     Do you want your freedom back? Do you want to feel reasonably safe from “your” government? Voting every two or four years ain’t gonna do it, people. It will take actual resistance to the tyrants by persons brave enough to do so – and staunch support of those brave ones, political, legal, financial, and moral, by the rest of us.

     I know, I know: Who bells the cat? It’s the old question, the one we use to paralyze ourselves. It’s more effective than ever. The State in our time can target individuals with frightening accuracy, and can bring overwhelming power to bear against them, as David French has told us. The Redcoats didn’t even have rifled barrels on their muskets.

     Is there a Patrick Henry in the house?

     Never mind. Forget I said anything. I’m just an old man who claims to remember what it was like to be free. We didn’t even have color TVs back then, so how good could it have been, really?

     All rise for Flag salute. Here are your internal passport, your work permit, and your ration card. Now sit down and pay attention to the political officer. He’s here to serve!

     I repeat those questions today.

     Please see also this fundamental essay on “national defense” and “national security.” Its final question remains as relevant today as ever.

A Lost Battle

     Once power-worshippers get into power, they will bend their fullest efforts to remaining there. And with command of the engines of state, they have a pretty good chance of getting their way.

     You don’t think so? You believe a “democracy” will correct for such things? That “the people,” bless their shriveled little hearts, will realize what’s being done to them and “vote the rascals out?” Well, Gentle Reader, the historical record isn’t terribly reassuring about that. The power-worshippers don’t just have the upper hand over us for the moment; the evidence says they’ve learned from their earlier mistakes.

***

     Unfettered freedom of expression and the franchise were once the Left’s sacred cows. But like most sacred cows, should they become troublesome, the people in power will gut, clean, and dress them for barbecue.

     We needn’t dwell on what’s happened to the mainstream media. They’re so completely in the Left’s thrall that their slightest hint of deviation becomes a cause celebre on the Right. The emergence of the huge “social media” brought about the collapse of blogging, which once knew millions of participants, and gave the Left a corral for dissidents from their prescriptions. Their grip appears too firm to counter at this point. What remains of free expression comes from mavericks such as the ones who write here.

     The last hill to conquer is the franchise…and it appears that that hill has been taken. Consider this development:

     Mind you, in all probability fewer than half the illegal aliens in Pennsylvania will actually cast a vote, or have any intention of doing so. But the more people there are on the voters’ rolls, the more fraudulent ballots can be submitted for counting when the elections arrive. In Democrat land, more registrants equals more votes even if no voter actually casts them, .

     Measures to combat vote fraud are anathema to the Left. Their resistance to all such strokes – photo ID; elimination of hackable electronic voting machines; supervised ballot counting; outlawing of ballot harvesting; purging the dead and non-voters from the rolls – has been prodigious, and usually successful. The results, especially in Democrat bastions, speak for themselves. Many districts reported voter participation levels of over 100%. Despite there being fewer than 140 million registered voters in 2020, 155 million votes were counted in that balloting.

     Yet good people – smart people! – maintain that the system can be fixed:

     Indeed they do, but the REAL cure is simpler even than that: ditch ALL electronic voting machines and return to paper ballots, hand counted in full, unobstructed view of official representatives from all and every political party with candidates running for office. Contra Simplicius’ first ‘graph above*, if that means We Duh Peepul must wait for the results a little longer than we’ve become accustomed to because hand-counting all those hard-copy ballots takes a little more time, well, so be it then.

     The essential point to be made here, I think, is that the count does not stop until all the (legitimate) votes are tallied. No self-evidently shady “pauses” after the polling places have closed because the toilet down the hall has sprung a minor leak, followed by a wee-hours stealth-resumption while no one is looking. You cast your vote on Election Day, on paper, dip your thumb into a jug of indelible purple ink ø Iraq, and then the votes are counted publicly, openly, without the kind of manipulation and mucking about we bore supine witness to in 2020. Period fucking dot, end of fucking story, problem fucking solved.

     And if the voters’ rolls are filled with the names of dead people and illegal aliens, and the ballots don’t bear the names of those who cast them, and the ballot counters are resolved to report a predetermined result? What then? Is it really possible to get all these correctives in place, to verify that they’re operating as intended, and thus to assure ourselves that our elections are once again trustworthy?

     Here, the implausibility is sufficiently strong to border closely upon impossibility. The system is in the hands of men who will make, change, and disregard the rules whenever it suits them.

     Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?

***

     If I’ve been sounding more weary and downhearted than usual, it’s because both those things are true. The electoral machinery has been captured and no longer deserves our trust. The media will defend it a outrance. The men in power will seek out and destroy anyone who raises a sufficiently loud, large clamor over it. Ask Catherine Engelbrecht.

     The only form of “democracy” left to us is Irish democracy: as much resistance to the men in power as we can muster without incurring bloodshed.

     Irish Democracy is when the populace simply doesn’t cooperate with the agenda. Sometimes there is active sabotage, sometimes surreptitious monkey-wrenching, sometimes foot-dragging and sometimes outright noncompliance. Sometimes it’s all of those at once.

     Right now, we are seeing some of that in response to vaccine mandates, mask rules and various other forms of population control that have been adopted since the pandemic struck. Go almost anywhere with a mask mandate, and you will see some people not wearing masks at all, daring anyone to do anything about it (often, they don’t).

     And really, what would be more appropriate? Our system of self-government has been transformed into an illusion, never again to be real. So why not turn the “power of the powerful” into an illusion as well? Is it not in any case a consummation devoutly to be wished? Do we really owe these clowns our willing allegiance and obedience?

     Have a nice day.

A Thought-Provoking Statement

     Vaclav Havel provides one, via Professor Randall Smith:

     [W]hen it comes to ideology, I prefer to turn to someone who spent a lot of time living with it and opposing it: poet and one-time president of the Czech Republic, Václav Havel. “Ideology,” wrote Havel, “is a specious way of relating to the world. It offers human beings the illusion of an identity, of dignity, and of morality while making it easier for them to part with them.”
     Thus, the only way to oppose ideology, thought Havel, was “living in the truth”: refusing to participate in the culture of lies. His famous example is the greengrocer who, if he refuses to put the “Workers of the World Unite” sign in his shop window, gets in trouble with the communist authorities, even though he is one of the workers that the “workers’ party” is supposed to be protecting!

     In rejecting “ideology,” Havel was referring to the poisonous political creed of socialism that largely ruined Eastern Europe after the Soviet takeover, and by implication the “wholly different” creed of fascism that set itself up as socialism’s opponent. The Gentle Readers of Liberty’s Torch are assumed to know that those two creeds were really one poison with two slightly different flavorings. But what’s really interesting here is Havel’s counterposition of truth as the antidote to such toxins.

***

     Back when we were all still swinging from the trees, I wrote:

     Truth is an evaluation: a judgment that some proposition corresponds to objective reality sufficiently for men to rely upon it. The weakening of the concept of truth cuts an opening through which baldly counterfactual propositions can be thrust into serious discourse. Smith might say that proposition X is disprovable, or that it contradicts common observations of the world; Jones counters that X suits him fine, for he has dismissed the disprovers as “partisan” and prefers his own observations to those of Smith. Unless the two agree on standards for relevant evidence, pertinent reasoning, and common verification — in other words, standards for what can be accepted as sufficiently true — their argument over X will never end.

     An interest group that has “put its back against the wall” as regards its central interest, and is unwilling to concede the battle regardless of the evidence and logic raised against its claims, will obfuscate, attack the motives of its opponents, and attempt to misdirect their attention with irrelevancies. When all of these have failed, its last-ditch defense is to attack the concept of truth. Once that has been undermined, the group can’t be defeated. It can stay on the ideological battlefield indefinitely, preserving the possibility of victory through attrition or fatigue among its opponents.

     I’ve cited those two paragraphs many times. They’re fundamental to any attempt to understand anything. While the subject of the cited essay was politics, the core of the matter remains the willingness to perceive and the determination to respect facts.

     In the political realm, an ideology is a bundle of propositions about what sort of policies will lead to a certain desired state. The desired state may be anything you can imagine: freedom, equality, national greatness, universal prosperity, Lebensraum, what have you. Some ideologies promote more than one such value, but it’s typical for an ideology to make one value supreme.

     One who is concerned with fidelity to the facts will usually avoid disputing the value or the supremacy of the supreme value. He’s right to do so; arguing values with an ideologue is a quick route to madness. Rather, he’ll ask: “These propositions upon which your ideology is based: are they all true?

     Rare is the ideology that can withstand such an examination.

***

     The combination of observable facts with the perception of developments over time leads to propositions about cause and effect. If united to some value, a bundle of such propositions can morph into an ideology. But for that ideology to be valid – i.e., to have value to those who accept the supremacy of the value it promotes – it must have two properties:

  1. It must concede its domain of application to be limited;
  2. The propositions it comprises must be true everywhere within that domain.

     Note that, as in the previous segment, I avoid any debate over the value itself. An ideology that holds the extinction of Mankind as its supreme value might, despite one’s revulsion toward it, be fact-based and valid. That doesn’t mean that anyone is required to embrace it.

     Therefore, the only validity test to which an ideology can meaningfully be subjected is whether cleaving to its propositions truly would bring about the supreme value. “If we were to accept your policy prescriptions,” the logician asks the ideologue, “would that bring about the state you value most?” Of course, the ideologue will somewhat indignantly reply “Of course it would!” But the follow-up question is the one that really matters: “Are you willing to accept factual evidence that testifies to the contrary?”

     The test applies to any proposed policies, regardless of what value they claim to seek. “Are these propositions true? Have they been tried? Did they work? If not, why not – and does that invalidate any of your proposed policies?”

     Such is the state of discourse in our time that those questions are usually asked from a safe distance.

***

     “Live not by lies” runs the slogan. It’s a good one. (It’s also the title of a pretty good book.) One who, when faced by an ideologist, insists upon knowing what the facts are, cannot be easily deceived. The ideologist who attempts to conceal the facts dooms himself and his ideology, in the long term at the very least. Herein lies the essence of Vaclav Havel’s insistence on “living in the truth.”

     Which is why for political discourse to regain its worth, its “current edition” must be flushed away and replaced with an emphasis on facts, experience, and truth.

Be Careful What You Ask For

     You might get it:

     I feel for him. Don’t you?

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