Thanksgiving Chestnuts

As everybody knows, on this date back in 1620, evil white genocidal gun-toting religious fanatics tricked the noble Native Americans into teaching them how to grow corn, which in their language was called “maize.” Soon all the noble Native Americans died from smallpox-infected blankets. And patriarchy. Also global warming.

So have a good one, fellow Deplorables. Oppress a LGBTQ family member, grab a pussy, be sure not to use any parts of the buffalo, and make America great again. Heil Hitler.*

*this post brought to you straight from the brain of every obnoxious freshperson just home from their $50K/year “safe space,” formerly known as a “college.” It does not reflect the opinions of the writer, the management, WordPress, the Republican Party, the designated hitter, or any of their heirs, assigns, or pets.**

**No, really — have a great one, y’all. I’m off to watch football and test the human stomach’s maximum elasticity.

“Academia Discriminates Against Women”

so says some feminist professor (so says Stacy McCain).  I have a question:

Hahahahahahahahahahahaha!

No, wait, make that

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

That is literally the funniest thing I’ve ever heard a feminist say.

Ok, ok, if I’m being honest, it’s only the second-funniest.  The funniest thing was way back in grad school, when the chicks in our department — who were the clear majority of our department — started bitching that women didn’t have enough leadership positions.  So, as always, the PTB convened a blue-ribbon commission, staffed by these chicks themselves…

….which found out that not only did women hold the majority of leadership positions in the department, they held every single blessed one of them.  The report stated this….

….and in the very next sentence started bitching about how the disproportionate burden of occupying all these leadership roles was keeping them from pursuing their training, thus holding them back from completing their degrees.

You really can’t make this stuff up.  You really can’t.

Ahem, “Man” Enough

man enough for hillary

Err … no

Yeah, a whole bunch of us who are supposedly (because of our political alignment) too macho (“not man enough”, in their view) to vote for a woman voted for McCain because of Palin, in spite of our disdain McCain. So it fails in its intention right there. They’re beating a dead horse. Fighting an SJW battle that was legitimately won long ago. Just setting it up so if she loses it will be because “patriarchy”. Yawn.

Next, we’re looking at a guy with perfectly quaffed hair combined with what I believe they call “ironic facial hair” in the “lumber sexual” style, who has covered himself in tattoos … I’m guessing because he realizes he’s not “man enough” on the merits of his personality so he compensates with cliche “tough guy” visual social signals. He probably arranges flowers. (Not that there’s anything WRONG with that.)

assume genderLast, but certainly not least, we have the arrow in “Her” pointing to … er … him? In this day and age of not “assuming” anybody’s gender where it would be downright hateful and bigoted for a woman to tell him to get the hell out of the women’s room where he’s just walked in on her — probably gives us an indication on where Hillary stands on peeing (pun intended).

And we don’t even need to go to the syphilis poster connection.  Our idiocracy is certainly infected with something.

A Little Friday Humor

Fat is Counter-Revolutionary

Struggling with your weight?  Turns out it’s a class struggle, my friend!

product_thumbnail.phpYes, that is a real thing.  And such a bargain, at a mere twenty capitalist dollars!  Order it here.

In case you’re wondering,

The book formulates a perspective where weight loss is treated as a political act against a consumptive, capitalist, culture of excess. All other diet books promise ‘beauty’ ‘beach bodies’ and such nonsense, this book however, argues that weight-loss should stem from a desire to live in a world where resources are shared by all. It categorically proves that one cannot lose excess weight and maintain a capitalistic hoarding psychology.

All of which seems a bit like overkill, no?  If Stalin’s USSR, Mao’s China, and the Kims’ North Korea are any indication, post-Revolution weight loss is pretty much guaranteed.

German Paper Warns of Coming Ice Age.  It’s funny because everyone knows we’re all gonna die of global warming.  Or that global warming causes global cooling.  Or something.  Because, science.

Speaking of science, here’s Beloved Leader Kim Jong Un proving that North Korea really is Vault 101 from the Fallout series of video games.

kimAnd yet somehow these guys have a nuke.  I especially dig the trac-ball mouse.  And because North Korea’s the nation that keeps on giving, here’s a still of the crack 4th Pajama Jammie Jam division demonstrating their deadly eyes-closed “spray ‘n’ pray” firing technique:

norks1It might be tough to see in thumbnail, but trust me,that dude in the foreground has his eyes screwed shut.

The cream of the North Korean navy goes through amphibious maneuvers:

norks2And last but not least, check out this elite regiment of… whatever the hell these guys are:

norks3I’m sure the Abrams boys are quaking in their boots.  If we have to fight them mano-a-mano while wearing 1920s college football gear, though, we’re in deep shit.

And here’s a MiG-21, which first entered service in 1959.

norks4Apparently the North Korean People’s Air Force figures our guys will be laughing too hard to pull the trigger.

And yes, these are the pictures of their military the Norks want us to see. It’s almost as if the state-controlled media is so in thrall to the Party that no information about the real world can ever penetrate to the top of the chain of command, for fear of upsetting their Beloved Leader’s cherished delusions and delicate emotional equilibrium.  Soooo glad that kind of thing doesn’t happen here in America, no?

Happy Friday, y’all.

The Sailor, the Three Sisters, and Hope

A “reprint.”

ONCE upon a time, there was a shipwrecked sailor. He had been knocked out in the storm that sank his ship. He was lucky to wake up on the beach. But he had nothing. Not even his memories. He didn’t even know his name. His only possession aside from the clothes on his back, was a pet pelican. The pelican’s name was Hope.

The man subsisted on coconuts for a time, and then he decided he needed to explore the island that was his new home. After walking for a day and a night, he saw a modest little house next to a small wharf. In the house he found a friendly old man who liked to fish. The old man was kind enough to lend the sailor some of his gear, and his bait. The sailor loved fish after living on coconuts, and he and the old man became fast friends. Every day they’d go down to the end of the wharf, the old man, the sailor, and Hope the pelican.

The old man had three daughters. Their names were History, Logic and Rhetoric. One day, the old man announced he would like the sailor to be his son-in-law. Nobody knew too much about the old man’s finances, but he had put away a tidy sum, and thought it would be just enough to buy a new house. He would be pleased to offer it to the sailor as a dowry.

But one problem remained. Which daughter would the sailor marry? And so it was agreed he would date each one of the daughters, starting with the oldest, and working his way down to the youngest. That night, he spruced himself up just as well as he possibly could, and he, his pet pelican Hope, and the oldest daughter History went walking down the beach in the moonlight.

The sailor found History to be a very sensible lady. She had a decent, working memory and used it to great aplomb. However, the sailor noticed History had a strange relationship with his pet pelican Hope. Sometimes History was very kind to Hope. Othertimes…not so much. He wasn’t always sure if History had a problem with Hope, or whether Hope had a problem with History.

And so it came as a surprise to the sailor when History started to talk seriously about the future. She sensed his concern and asked him to excuse her…she got that way a lot of the time. It was a habit she formed after many long years of noticing most people didn’t think about the future very much.

History continued: “Have you heard of that new housing community on the far side of the island?” No, the sailor had never heard of it. “Taxcutland,” said History. “It’s a wonderful place to live. I know of many people who have bought their houses in Taxcutland, and it has always worked out well for them.” “Is that so?” said the sailor. “Absolutely,” she replied. “In all the time I’ve been around, I’ve never known it to work out poorly for anybody.”

The sailor tossed and turned that night, thinking about his date with History. She did seem to be a very sensible lady, and he got the impression he should pay more attention to her than he did. But her looks bothered him. Sometimes she looked pretty, othertimes rather homely. Occasionally, when the light hit her really wrong, she could be downright ugly. And then there was that thing with Hope the pelican.

The sailor decided he would start dating the middle sister, Logic.

Logic was even more sensible than her older sister, History. Like most middle-children, she had often been neglected in her childhood. In large crowds, when she was ignored completely, she tended to stay by herself and find ways to stay entertained, alone. Logic was most capable; she was able to do amazing things, whereas History had a tendency to leave things more or less exactly the way she found them.

In spite of her personal tendency to stay away from people, Logic seemed to be somewhat more experienced in dating than History. The only problem was, for some reason, men tired of her quickly. She was accustomed to rejection.

The sailor, being the practical type, was favorably impressed with all the things Logic could build. But again, one thing put him off: Logic had a sweet-and-sour relationship with his pet pelican Hope. It wasn’t bad all the time; sometimes Logic and Hope got along great. But when they didn’t, the tension ran high.

The sailor thought he’d try and talk about the future, with Logic, just to see what would happen.

“Your sister was telling me about a new housing community called Taxcutland.” “Oh, yes!” said Logic. “I know all about it! It only makes sense that the community is doing so well, you know; the people who live there are free to do as they like.”

Again, that night, the sailor tossed and turned, wondering what to do. He was intrigued by the possibilities involved in a future spent with logic. And she was beautiful in her own way. But there were many fun things he thought he might not be able to do with her. He got the impression she was a bit of a killjoy…and, again, there was that matter with his pet pelican Hope.

The sailor decided he would date the youngest sister, Rhetoric.

Rhetoric was different from her sisters — passionate, carefree, spirited, bubbly, vivacious. The girl never stopped talking! She raised the sailor’s spirits in a way no one had before. But best of all, the pet pelican Hope just loved Rhetoric. They got along wonderfully, ALL the time. He was especially pleased to see how often Rhetoric talked about the pelican. Sometimes it seemed she had nothing else on her mind…just Hope, Hope, Hope.

The sailor had one question on his mind: What would a future be like, in which he turned his back on History and Logic, and gave his devotion to Rhetoric? He decided to try and find out. “Have you heard of this housing community from your sisters?” “Oh, that dreadful Taxcutland,” sighed Rhetoric. “It’s a fool’s dream, you know. Tax cuts. Same old story…the rich get richer, and the poor get poorer.” “Well if you had your choice, where would you buy a house?” “Oh I have no question about that at all,” said Rhetoric. “Stimulusville, that’s the way to go! I just think, when you spread the wealth around, it’s good for everybody!”

The sailor had never heard of Stimulusville. But Rhetoric’s voice was so dulcet and sweet, if she liked it, he was sure it would be a fine place to live. He made up his mind. He would marry Rhetoric.

It was a wonderful wedding, the weather perfect for it. Hope the pelican served as ringbearer. The old man gave the sailor the dowry, as promised, in gold bars. And the sailor used it to buy a house in Stimulusville. He would pin all his dreams on this community, just as his new wife, Rhetoric, wanted him to.

The house in Stimulusville cost a lot more than the sailor thought. But he, Hope and Rhetoric were so happy, he figured it was worth it. Rhetoric told him to think of it as an investment.

But then the bloom wore off the rose. Stimulusville, it turned out, was leaking money pretty fast. Every year, it seemed the city council ran a serious budget deficit. They raised the taxes to cover it, but then all the businesses would pack up and leave — usually to Taxcutland.

The sailor’s taxes went up, and up, and up. Rhetoric would always say it made perfect sense — the money had to come from somewhere, and where else would the money come from? The city elders used the money for “stimulus” packages for chronic welfare queens, druggies, carjackers, perps, and other losers. Then they’d run their budget deficit, raise taxes, and drive more businesses out to Taxcutland.

Worst of all, his new wife Rhetoric seemed to be sleeping with every other guy in town. She was a flirtatious, precocious young lady, not at all unpleasing to the eye. Everyone liked hearing what Rhetoric had to say; she made a lot of friends, and there was no limit to how friendly she’d become with them. That was always the problem with Rhetoric; she never seemed to know where to stop with things.

Eventually, Rhetoric ran off. The sailor’s house, now mortgaged two and three times over, anchored him to Stimulusville for the rest of his life.

After a good cry, he realized he hadn’t seen or heard anything from his pet pelican in awhile. He searched all over the yard, and finally found the pelican, drowned, by the pond. His pet pelican Hope was dead. How he’d miss that pelican! He realized, he’d chosen his wife mostly out of concern for the pelican’s welfare, and that one single act seemed to have been exactly what killed it.

One day, a while after he buried his precious Hope, but not too long after, Logic came to his doorstep with a casserole. She heard he’d been having a tough time of it. He told her how much he missed her, how much he regretted turning his back on her. He should have bought a house in Taxcutland and married her. Logic agreed that was quite sensible. Why, she wanted to know, did he marry Rhetoric and move into this awful place? I don’t know, said the Sailor; it seemed to make good sense at the time.

No, Logic said; it didn’t, and you always knew that deep down. The sailor realized she was right.

You know, said Logic, nobody’s ever told you this, and you didn’t have too many chances to figure it out for yourself. But I disagree with my older sister almost as often as with my younger one. When you saw Logic and History both found the same plan appealing, that really should have told you everything you needed to know.

39.2 Percent of Statistics are Made Up

Let’s try an experiment. Say I argued as follows:

Since 1970, both the number of female pharmacy students and the number of home runs per season in major league baseball have gone up every single year.  It’s obvious that the increased good karma from greater female participation in a STEM field has upped the number of home runs in baseball.  In fact, you can mathematically model the karma-caused correlation between the two, and thus I can predict with complete confidence that a player will hit 84 home runs in the season in which females comprise 62% of the American pharm-school population, which will be 2019.

Pretty silly, no?  But give me a fedora with one of those “Press” cards tucked in the band and I bet you I can get lots of people believing it.

For instance, how many times have you seen a newspaper story like this:

The Pharm Team

for baseball fans, a surpisingly pink link

LONDON (AP) — For Elmer Jerkins, this might be the year his beloved Atlanta Braves win the pennant.

His daughter just got accepted to Johns Hopkins pharmacy school.

To most it sounds farfetched.  But some scientists aren’t so skeptical.  The link between female participation in pharmacy school and the number of home runs in major league baseball — jokingly called “karma-ceuticals” by some — doesn’t sound so crazy to Dr. Lloyd Pennyfelcher, Chief of Complicated Surgery at London’s elite Squidmere-upon-Redbush General Hospital.

“Do I think ladies in pharm school affects home runs in American ‘base-ball’?”  Pennyfelcher mused.  “And do I believe that karmic credit is behind it all?”  Scratching his well-manicured goatee, he slowly replied “Well, I suppose it’s not completely impossible.”

Pennyfelcher, 53, graduated summa cum laude from Oxford in 1984….

There are reporters at the New York Times who make a living on this kind of thing.  And from there it’s easy.  You start with the weekend puff pieces:

Down on the Pharm

Brattelboro, North Carolina — Tyler Stehr-Royd, a handsome, muscular blonde with a winning smile, spends a lot of time thinking about pharmacy school.

Not because he plans on attending.  At nineteen, Stehr-Royd is the first round draft pick of the Atlanta Braves, and he currently plays right field for the Brattelboro Beekeepers, the Braves’ Carolina League affiliate.  A highly touted power hitter, “Ty-phoon,” as his teammates call him, hopes the current uptick in female enrollment at the pre-pharmacy program at Brattleboro Community College heralds great things for his professional career.

“Have you heard about this ‘karma-ceutical’ thing?” he asks, after knocking yet another longball over the fence at the team’s afternoon batting practice.  “Yeah, some doctor at like Oxford or something figured it out.  The more chicks that go into pharmacy school, the more homers we hit in the majors.”

Once you hit the op-ed pages, you’ve arrived:

Stop Pharming Our Daughters!

by Jane Sun Moon Wyatt-Earp-Tyndall-Smythe, Professor of Women’s Studies, Shrike College

Critics of America’s sports-industrial complex are by now painfully aware of so-called “karma-ceuticals,” the scientifically established link between female participation in pharmacy programs and home run production in major league baseball.  So well known is it, in fact, that Major League Baseball, a multi-billion dollar citadel of patriarchial values, has teamed with several so-called “institues of higher learning” to establish the Barry Bonds Memorial Chair in Gendered Pharmacology at my beloved Shrike College.

How can we, as concerned feminists, allow our daughters to be recruited into any field, especially a putatively “scientific” one, simply to help an already exceedingly rich organization squeeze yet one more dollar out of the laboring poor?  The histories of exploitation and baseball date from the game’s creation….

It’s just that easy.  Once you get a story or two in the paper — just enough to give it that all-important political twist — you’ll have people vehemently defending your theory for you.

But c’mon, I hear you saying.  Surely the American people aren’t that dumb?

Wanna bet, Sparky?  Behold the wonderful lunacy of the Fox Butterfield Effect:

“The Butterfield Effect” is named in honor of ace New York Times crime reporter Fox Butterfield, the intrepid analyst responsible for such brilliantly headlined stories as “More Inmates, Despite Drop In Crime,” and “Number in Prison Grows Despite Crime Reduction,” not to mention the poetic 1997 header, “Crime Keeps on Falling, but Prisons Keep on Filling.”

Fox Butterfield, a veteran reporter of thirty years, doesn’t have the first concept of cause and effect.  Fox Butterfield has a Pulitzer Prize.

From there it’s simply a matter of endless question-begging and assertion, like so.  You say karma ins’t a real thing?  Then how else do you explain both the uptick in female pharmacy enrollment and the increase in longballs?  Oh, it’s just a coincidence, is it?  Correlation doesn’t prove causation and all that?  Well it’s not our fault you won’t look at the data.  What data?  Well, there’s Baseball America, and The Chronicle of Higher Education, and….

What do you mean those don’t prove anything?  Why won’t you look at the data?  And yes, you’re correct that smaller park sizes and better athlete conditioning account for a lot of the uptick in home runs.  But those are just two of the effects of good karma.  They’re the signature of good karma, you might say, at least in a baseball context…

What do you mean that still has nothing to do with karma, which doesn’t exist?  Again:  how else do you explain the increase in female enrollment and the increase in home runs?  We can agree, surely, that there were more home runs hit in 1992 than in 1982?  And more homers hit in 1982 than 1972?  These are facts; you can’t just hand-wave them away by claiming I’m pulling this stuff out of my ass. You’re obviously against women in pharmacy school for some reason, but that doesn’t eliminate those pesky findings!  Baby steps….

And so on.  And you know I’m right, because this blog has been thoroughly peer-reviewed.

Chuckle of the Day: “Root Causes”

Sonic Charmer (who has a blog I dig) nails one of the most annoying things about “gun control advocates:”

The other interesting thing is that this is all a total inversion of the conversation that takes place regarding (foreign) terrorism. In that case, it’s the left which wants to explore and understand and address ‘root causes’, and it’s the right which says ‘who cares their reasons, let’s just squash/prevent/kill terrorists’. So there is a double-standard – the right side of which, by the way, I will totally defend in both cases. What I wonder is, why does the gun-control left adhere to this double-standard? What happened to ‘root causes’?

This is the beauty of the RWCG approach — the light touch.  But since I’m more of a “beat ’em with a 2×4” kind of guy, I’ll spell it out:

The left isn’t interested in “root causes” in this case because they touch on two of the root causes of leftism itself: race and a belief the talismanic power of words.

We on the right seem to have a knock-down argument against the gun-grabbers: this here chart.

England is the most violent country in the Western world

Of course, this doesn’t deter liberals in the slightest, because if they were capable of revising their opinions in the light of plain facts they wouldn’t be liberals.  But airily dismissing this as yet another case of Sciencey McScienceFan leftists ignoring politically inconvenient hard data, while fun, is actually counterproductive.

For one, this chart is itself something of a dodge.  As Bookworm him(her?)self acknowledges, much of the interpersonal violence in the UK is done with knives, bottles, etc., not guns.  Which opens us up to the countercharge that we’re changing the subject, that liberals are happy, eager even, to discuss these other forms of violence, but right now we have to deal with the plague of guns in America, and quit changing the subject, wingnutz, won’t somebody please think of the children.

For another, far more important reason, it’s counterproductive because it does nothing to address the essential silliness of the entire “gun control” premise.  “Gun control” intends to limit gun violence, yes?  As in, violence committed with a gun?  Behold the stupidity.

In case you don’t want to read the link, it’s a list of penalties various states have implemented for illegal firearm possession.  In Connecticut — which seems relevant — it’s a class D felony, punishable by one to five years imprisonment, a fine of up to $5,000, or both.

But now let’s have a look at the Connecticut statue for assault with a deadly weapon (ADW), which covers all manner of objects as well as guns:

PA 71-871 amended the sentencing statute in the penal code (CGS § 53a-35) to require a minimum sentence of five years that cannot be suspended or reduced for the crime of assault in the first degree when a person intends and causes serious physical injury to a person using a deadly weapon or dangerous instrument (CGS § 53a-59(a)(1)).

The penalties for assault with any kind of deadly weapon, not just a gun, far exceed those imposed for illegal firearm possession.  And since these laws, with their harsher penalties, don’t seem to have much of a deterrent effect….

And then there’s, you know, murder.  It should be needless to say that the penalties for this are much harsher:  20 to 60 in the slammer for starters in Connecticut, which — and this seems important — also has the death penalty.  Evidently it’s not, though, as our liberals honestly seem to be arguing that folks who set out to commit cold-blooded murder — who know full well that 20 to life or even the fucking gas chamber await them if caught — will somehow be deterred by yet another piddly firearm possession law.

It’s a ridiculous example of parathought.  They somehow equate “gun control” to “violence control,” and compound the silliness by — and I see no other way to explain their “thinking” here– assuming that the passage of a law with the words “gun control” in the title actually controls violence.

Or, if you want a much pithier version of all this, just ask a liberal if “pot control” laws actually control pot… but only after asking them if they’ve got a guy.

This word fetish they’ve got is a special case of parathought.  In fact it might be the oldest one of all.  I call it the Neville Chamberlain (but I’m open to suggestion) — he proclaimed “peace in our time” based on nothing more than a piece of paper pinky-swearing that Germany wouldn’t invade anyone.  And then he put Great Britain’s rearmament plans on hold, because hey, if you can’t trust Hitler….

“Gun control” is actually some kind of double-Chamberlain.  It seemingly assumes:

  1. that “gun control” laws actually reduce access to guns, and
  2. that “guns” — the concept — seemingly drive some people insane, so that your normal average everyday junior account exec turns into a homicidal maniac the minute you hand him a .38

Liberals know this isn’t true.  Again, ask ’em about pot — you can find Reefer Madness playing in a dorm room somewhere in America every night of the year, with the types of folks who pen Very Serious Facebook posts about “sensible gun control laws” laughing their asses off at manufactured marijuana hysteria.  They’re not stupid; they’re just parathinking, with “guns” standing in for “all the stuff I find icky.”

The other “root cause” liberal shibboleth here is race.  You’d have to gun down the entire student body of a small liberal arts college before school shooting deaths topped the number of gang-related homicides per year.  You might also take a gander at the FBI’s 2011 Uniform Crime Reports, which state that 8,341 arrests for homicide or non-negligent manslaugther (48% of the total) were of African-Americans.  “Profiling!”, liberals would scream… except that of 12,664 victims, almost exactly half (6,329) were black.  (Interestingly, there are no separate numbers for Hispanics; presumably they’re “white” to the FBI (the only other choices are “American
Indian or Alaskan Native” and “Asian or Pacific Islander”)).

Point is, strict “gun control” laws, were they actually intended to curtail gun-related violence, would have a very markedly “disproportionate impact,” as our liberal friends say, on the African-American community.  For instance, let’s look at this CNN propaganda “analysis” piece from July 31, 2012.  “Analyst” Allison Brennan claims that

A study published in the Injury Prevention Journal, based on a 2004 National Firearms Survey, found that 20% of the gun owners with the most firearms possessed about 65% of the nation’s guns.

When you actually click on the link, though, you get an abstract that links to a table which indicates that only 15% of “non-white” households possess any kind of firearm.  The abstract goes on to conclude that

Firearms are most likely to be owned by white men who live in a rural areas, those who are middle-aged or older, with a middle to higher income, who grew up with guns in the home and who live in the southern or mid-western regions of the country.

Here are those numbers again for your review: Just under half of those arrested for, and almost exactly half of the victims of, homicide are African-American (blacks are 13.1% of the US population).  And yet, self-reported gun ownership among “non-whites” is a mere 15%, and the average gun owner is a middle-aged, middle-income white guy who lives in the rural South or Southwest.

Anything funky about that?  Anyone?  Bueller?

Let me put it as simply as I can:  Any “gun control” law that is serious about actually controlling guns is going to have to address the huge numbers of illegal weapons floating around our nation’s inner cities.  Forget the Constitution for a sec (if you find this difficult, just pretend you’re a liberal) — even if we banned all manufacture, importation, and sale of firearms within the United States, we’d have to deal, as my co-bloggers have pointed out in such illuminating detail, the 50% of the world’s guns that are already here.  Short of massive, jackbooted police sweeps going door-to-door through every inner city in America, the only guns you’re going to confiscate are from those middle-aged, middle-class white guys…

…which, of course, is the entire point of the exercise.  Any discussion of “violence” in American that doesn’t take race into account is either impossibly naive or grossly dishonest.  If the liberals were to look at the “root causes” of “gun violence,” they’d be revealed as both.