Category Archives: Family

UPDATED: #JoshDuggar And His Folks Give Me The Heebie-Jeebies (Want Sympathy? Stay Off The Grid)

Celebrity, Family, Law, libertarianism, Sex

Don’t make me write about the simpering, sanctimonious Duggar family, and their priapic son who preyed on his many sisters.

Their enabler, Megyn Kelly, noticed not at all the Freudian slips tumbling from the mouths of these “parents” (and doesn’t the whiny mom give you the heebie-jeebies?):

‘The girls didn’t want their ‘record’ revealed. They wanted to tell their own story.” The girls don’t have a “record.” I was under the impression that the girls were victims of the son (and their fruitful, multiplying parents). And all that, “Over their clothes”; boy Josh Duggar only “touched his sisters over their clothes.”

Look, we libertarians like it when family, church and local authorities handle problems “in-house.” But this was not THAT!

As to Kelly! The woman was so eager to finesse the excesses and phoniness of these parents that she forgot, oops, to mention that Josh’s mentor was later charged with child pornography.

Yuksters all.

UPDATE (6/4): WANT SYMPATHY? STAY OFF THE GRID.

This is the first time I’ve heard of these people. But now that I have, let me say that I have as much sympathy for the Duggars for suffering a legal leak as I have for the Duggar parents for marketing their family, breeding for the cameras; as I have for celebrities who take images of their snatches, upload to some Cloud (cuckoo) and bitch about the theft of these pics. Who cares. Rule of law? What law! Stay private. Stay off the grid.


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Don’t Marry Warns Fred Reed

Family, Feminism, Gender, Sex

A doff of the proverbial hat to the editor of “Into The Cannibal’s Pot: Lesson For America From Post-Apartheid South Africa,” the illustrious Australian writer Rob Stove, who just sent me Fred Reed’s latest. It’s marvelous (except for the porn stuff; yuk). To the upstanding Rob, “Matrimony, Holy or Otherwise: A Movable Concentration Camp” sounded over-the-top wrong. Not to me. Guilty. Averaged out, old Fred is right.

Matrimony, Holy or Otherwise:
A Movable Concentration Camp
By Fred Reed

“If you are a young man, and contemplate matrimony with the love of your life, it is well to look at marriage from the standpoint of reason rather than sentiment. Men are, after all, male, and occasionally capable of reason. The first question to ask yourself is: Why marry? What would you gain? Would your troubles disappear? Would sex be better? Would food be more savory? Would you get tax breaks, enjoy more freedom? Do stock options come with marriage?

Is there any practical advantage at all?

For you, I mean. For her, the advantages are considerable, and the drawbacks few. Your salary will allow her an upscale house, something more important to her than to you, which on the odds she will get in the divorce. Marriage locks-in child support. Since men die younger, she will get to pick your bones. For her, it is a good deal.

For you, no. Marriage has one purpose only, which is to get her legal hooks into you. Do not forget that American women, under the evanescent ivory skin, are eternally adolescent spoiled brats, feminine as a wrestler’s jockstrap and primed, as soon as life’s inevitable shocks come, to blame men for their unhappinesses. That means you.

Do not dismiss the foregoing as clever cynicism. Nobody goes into marriage expecting divorce, but it comes very frequently, and she really does get the house and the children. In divorces, men lose. Your child support will be based on what the judge thinks you should earn—this is called ‘imputed income’—so that, if you are a stock broker, you cannot decide that you would rather work on a fishing boat in the Caribbean. If the judge thinks you may be a flight risk, she can confiscate your passport. Your wife’s lawyer may advise her to accuse you of sexually molesting the children. (So help me, this happens. In a divorce, the man wants to get out, the wife to get even.) You may be denied visitation.

In the eyes of the court, the children are her property, to be done with as she chooses. She may remarry with an Air Force colonel she met in a meat bar, and be stationed in Okinawa. So much for your kids.

She can ruin you at any moment. Can and, not unlikely, will. When the moment comes, you will be astonished at how much she knows about divorce law, how vicious she can be. In marriage, you are betting your future on the flip of a loaded coin.

The sensible conclusion is that you are better off single, building a career or whatever you want in life, and dating such flowers as drift by.

Should you marry, the pleasure will be fleeting. Remember that women work on the principle of bait, switch, and fade. From fifteen to, say, twenty-five, they are dreams afoot, cute, with perfect skin and aerodynamic lines. That is what you think you are marrying. Add five or ten years, ten or twenty pounds, and the lack of any reason to continue being charming—and you are going to spend the rest of your life with it. Too many men marry the package, and only discover the content when it is too late.

Matrimony is seldom a happy state in America. Given that something like half of marriages end in divorce, you can bet that a lot of others almost do. Of the remainder, probably more are contented than happy. Resignation is not pleasant, but often the best you can hope for.

Live with her if you must, but don’t marry her. A woman cohabiting has at least some incentive to be agreeable. A married woman does not. Worth pondering is that, in a time of declining economy, feckless government, and political instability, the fewer responsibilities you attach to yourself, the better.

The very idea of marriage is problematic. In many ways, men and women are incompatible. Exceptions and degrees, yes, but on average women are more domestic, materialistic, fearful, totalitarian, and comfortable with routine. This means that to the extent you have masculine interests, you will find her to be an anchor. This doesn’t mean only that she won’t like that awful motorcycle or that noisy Corvette thingy. She won’t want to live in a small condo in the funky part of town, go to the shooting range, or scuba dive.

It is said that marriage rests on compromises, but in fact it rests on concessions, and you will make all of them. You will find your social life gravitating fast to other married couples. She won’t want you to have single female friends (nor will you want her to have single male friends: Marriage is based on mistrust.). Worse, she won’t want you to have single male friends. She will want you where she can keep an eye on you. Forget going out with the guys. …”

MORE Fred On Everything.


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UPDATED: A Sad Christmas Story (Letter From Assistant Director Of ACS)

Christianity, Crime, Family, Film, Ilana Mercer, IMMIGRATION

“A Sad Christmas Story” is the current column, now on WND. An excerpt:

Described by a critic as “one of those rare movies you can say is perfect in every way,” “A Christmas Story,” directed by Bob Clark, debuted in 1983.

Set in the 1940s, the film depicts a series of family vignettes through the eyes of 9-year-old Ralphie Parker, who yearns for that gift of all gifts: the Daisy Red Ryder BB gun.

This was boyhood before “bang-bang you’re dead” was banned; family life prior to “One Dad Two Dads Brown Dad Blue Dads,” and Christmas before Saint Nicholas was denounced for his whiteness and “merry Christmas” condemned for its exclusiveness.

If children could choose the family into which they were born, most would opt for the kind depicted in “A Christmas Story,” where mom is a happy homemaker, dad a devoted working stiff, and between them, they have zero repertoire of progressive psychobabble to rub together.

Although clearly adored, Ralphie is not encouraged to share his feelings at every turn. Nor is he, in the spirit of gender-neutral parenting, circa 2014, urged to act out like a girl if he’s feeling … girlie. Instead, Ralphie is taught restraint and self-control. And horrors: The little boy even has his mouth washed out with soap and water for uttering the “F” expletive. “My personal preference was for Lux,” reveals Ralphie, “but I found Palmolive had a nice piquant after-dinner flavor—heady but with just a touch of mellow smoothness.” Ralphie is, of course, guilt-tripped with stories about starving Biafrans when he refuses to finish his food.

The parenting practiced so successfully by Mr. and Mrs. Parker fails every progressive commandment. By today’s standards, the delightful, un-precocious protagonist of “A Christmas Story” would be doomed to a lifetime on the therapist’s chaise lounge—and certainly to daily doses of Ritalin, as punishment for unbridled boyishness and day-dreaming in class. Yet despite his therapeutically challenged upbringing, Ralphie is a happy little boy. For “Progressives”—for whom it has long been axiomatic that the traditional family is the source of oppression for women and children—this is inexplicable.

Perhaps the first to have conflated the values of the bourgeois family with pathological authoritarianism was philosopher Theodor Adorno. …

… Read the complete column. “A Sad Christmas Story” is the current column, now on WND.

UPDATE (12/28): A Treasured Letter From Assistant Director of “A Christmas Story.”

Hi Ms. Mercer,

I want to thank you for the article you wrote on “A Christmas Story”. Bob would have really loved your opening paragraph.

My name is … I was a friend of Bob’s in addition to being his 1st Assistant Director on most of his movies, including “A Christmas Story” and “Porky’s.

Both Bob and Jean Shepard had “Jewish” sensibilities and there were plenty of the tribe working on the set and in the executive substructure.

In fact, the sign of the Chinese restaurant that the Parker’s went to was called Bo Ling. I mention this because the name of that restaurant was Bob’s recognition of my MOTHER’s contribution to his career.

The story of Bo ling occurred when my family was driving from NY to south Florida in 1961. It was getting late and we were all hungry when my mother shouted that there was a Chinese Restaurant at the next exit. Dad pulled off and as we drove up to the building we all realized that there was no restaurant but a bowling alley with the neon light of the “L” was not lit, hence Bo ling was later immortalized in the movie.

The only critical point that I would make is I think you should have mentioned that Bob and Arial were killed by a drunk driver, who happened to be an illegal alien. [

Again, I really enjoyed reading your article. Even after all these years it is still in the public consciousness and Bob would have loved that too.

REPLY:

Dear KG,

This note means a great deal; it’s of historic significance.

Thanks for the pointer against my point on illegality. Here is my counter to it, excerpted from an older article:

Bob Clark, director of one of the most delightful films ever made, “A Christmas Story,” and his 24-year-old son were both killed by a drunk, unlicensed, allegedly illegal alien. Geraldo and Jacoby, the teletwits of amnesty, both asserted that the illegality of the perp is irrelevant to the crime. “It’s not an illegal alien story; it’s a drunk driving story,” Geraldo noodled on “The Factor.”
Geraldo was serious, although he should not be taken seriously. So here’s my next question: For the Geraldo/Jacoby crushingly stupid claim to stick, they would have to demonstrate that had this drunk, illegal alien been stopped at the border or been deported, his victims would have nevertheless suffered the same fate.

Thus illegality matters to this story of lives lost. Had the Overlords in DC not facilitated the unleashing of this illegal individual, Bob and his son would be alive, at least on that day.

Warm regards,
I.


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Rest In Peace, Dennis O’Keeffe

Family, Ilana Mercer, Intellectualism, Liberty

I met Dennis O’Keeffe, of blessed memory, at a Liberty Fund colloquium entitled “History, Citizenship and Patriotism in Liberal Democracy,” where Dennis—a professor of sociology at the University of Buckingham and Senior Research Fellow at the Institute of Economic Affairs—was in his element.

David Conway, a mutual friend and a stellar scholar too, had invited me to partake in an exchange of ideas with some of the finest minds in Britain. With his twinkling blue eyes, sonorous voice, and beautiful mind, Dennis was the star. Not only was he a beautiful mind; Dennis was a beautiful person to know and be around. A patrician, the dashing Dennis was also kind, sweet, humble; with an uncanny ability to engage intellectually and personally with interlocutors.

Needless to say, that the idyllic and breathtaking setting of the Ockenden Manor in Cuckfield, West Sussex, England, and the intimate quorum—only fifteen people partook—was conducive not only to the exploration of ideas, but to the forging of an enduring friendship.

Dennis and I were in epistolary contact until That Fateful Day, also the beginning of the end. From May 2006, until Dennis’ last missive to me, on November 11, 2010—we exchanged close to 100 emails. In his last letter, Dennis wrote:

Dear Ilana

I will happily write a foreword to your book, “Into The Cannibal’s Pot: Lessons For America From Post-Apartheid South Africa.” You can send me the text electronically I guess. … I suspect you are up against a mix of fear and sentimentality. This is much the same in the British case. The issues are of vast importance, both philosophically and practically. If South Africa goes down the toilet, down the Zimbabwe road, the outlook for Africa will be even grimmer than it is already.

Love
Dennis

Upon the publication of his last book, “Edmund Burke,” also in 2010, I introduced Dennis to my readers, via a two-part conversation. The titles should give you an idea of what fun Dennis and I had:

* “Thomas Paine: 18th Century Che Guevara” (10/22/2010)

* “The ‘Moronizing’ Of Modern Culture” (10/29/2010)

I love you, Dennis O’Keeffe.
Preach It in Heaven.


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UPDATED: Girls Behaving Badly (Talking Turkey)

Barack Obama, Etiquette, Family, Republicans

“They’re just teenage girls.” Correction; Malia and Sasha Obama are poorly behaved teenage girls. Or that’s how they came across during the National Thanksgiving Turkey pardon. The two stood beside their father at the annual turkey pardon ceremony pulling faces and rolling their eyes in his direction. Malia looked quite nice, but Sasha’s bare thighs? I don’t think so.

The response of one Elizabeth Lauten—the communications director for Rep. Stephen Fincher (R-Tenn.)—to the display was a little idiotic: pompous, overblown, overemotional, and inarticulate. But that describes 90 percent of America’s journos and politicians. They can’t think. Consequently, they can’t write.

Still, why has it become so hard to pass judgement about etiquette, at least, if not morals? Why do Americans equivocate so much, never calling out rotter behavior? Those of you who allow your kids to behave like trash without correcting them have nothing to be proud of.

UPDATE (12/1): TALKING TURKEY.

The little bitches live at the pleasure of the taxpayer. I happen to like the idea of the president being forced to show mercy for an animal other than his ornamental dog. I would love for the POTUS to do nothing but, the whole day. Again, those privileged girls live at the pleasure of the American people. Let them stand up straight and behave properly. Yet another creepy thing about American society: the Sacred Kid affliction.


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Neutering The NFL (Histrionic Headlines)

Family, Feminism, Left-Liberalism, Sport

The busybody, fascist fems are muscling in on the NFL, in an attempt to neuter one of the last vestiges of masculinity in American sport. Prosecute/arrest anyone who commits a felony against anyone in the NFL and elsewhere. Otherwise, fuck off fascist fems.

Below are the more ridiculous, histrionic headlines aired by the CNN nitwork on an incident that the parties—husband and wife—had resolved to the satisfaction of the only parties that matter: husband and wife.

* Women consult with NFL commissioner

* Goodell isn’t a newcomer to controversy

* What to tell kids about Ray Rice

* Domestic abuse ‘ordinary’ in U.S.


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