Category Archives: GUNS

Duplicitous Devils Of The Left Understand ONLY Breitbart’s Message: “Fuck You. WAR.

Classical Liberalism, Free Speech, GUNS, Just War, Left-Liberalism And Progressivisim, libertarianism, Race, Racism

We conservative and conservative libertarians are civilized souls. This means that we are at heart “free-speech absolutists.” In the words of Elon Musk, “For Twitter to deserve public trust, it must be politically neutral, which effectively means upsetting the far right and the far left equally.”

This paleolibertarian longs for the return of what shall be dubbed here the Skokie Standard. “In 1978, the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) ‘took a controversial stand for free speech by defending a neo-Nazi group that wanted to march through the Chicago suburb of Skokie, where many Holocaust survivors lived.” (From “Was The Cop’s Knee On George Floyd’s Neck ‘Racism’? No!“)

In response to a similar sentiment from Musk, I tweeted, “100%.” And, “The point is, get a libertarian free-speech backbone. If the Left posts about killing fetuses, DEAL with it. If the Right posts about the Bell Curve; DEAL! If Holocaust deniers deny the Holocaust: DEAL. If Green Energy hates on your SUV: DEAL.”

A reader was less exhilarated, correctly locating the source of the tyrannical meltdown with the Left. So as to never forget who we—with our civilized code of ethics and classically liberal ideals—are dealing with, read this, a collation of the idiot enemy’s litany of dangerous hate in the enemy’s own words:

Verified Hate: the African’s Revenge

The point being—gleaned from their own words—the frothing, fulminating demented deranged Left aims to destroy #Musk. They will destroy us. They will never allow us our speech, our thoughts, and, increasingly, our livelihoods. They want to “vanish” (sic) us.

There can be no peaceful coexistence with these duplicitous devils. Indeed, the only response to those who accuse me, you, of racism, with a view to sweeping us away because we don’t think like they do or do as they do, is Andrew Breitbart’s response, “FUCK YOU. WAR.”

With Andrew Breitbart it was biblical.

God bless Andrew Breitbart. May he continue to rage, rage from the grave.

Andrew Breitbart’s Call To Arms is now ours. READ. WATCH. GRASP. PREPARE.

• “Systemic Racism’ Or Systemic Rubbish?
• “
Was The Cop’s Knee On George Floyd’s Neck Racism? No!”
• “
Ethnocidal ‘Critical Race Theory’ Is Upon Us Like White On Rice
• “
Racist Theory Robs And Rapes Reality


FRED REED: Shere Khan: Another Kind of Woman

America, Asia, FRED REED, Gender, GUNS, Relationships

‘Those self-defense karate classes for women are worse than a joke because they …just piss the guy off. But five rounds to the center of mass will make almost anybody lose his erection.’


Years ago I went in winter annually to Denver to visit friends and get in a week or two of skiing on the Front Range. I was a tolerable blue-slope skier but no more. Sometimes on weekdays we went to the Loveland slopes, utterly empty of people, chill blue sky stretching forever, long, easy runs in the cold, absolute silence except for the hissing of the skis. You could almost believe the world was a good place.

One year we went in the evening to Boulder to visit Donna Duvall and Jim Graves, who had been editors at Soldier of Fortune magazine years before when I had been on staff. We were sitting around a big kitchen table and remembering the crazy times when the doorbell rang. In came Shere Khan, as we later called her. I forget who had invited her.

She was tall, maybe five-nine, slender, of a slightly olive complexion with high cheekbones and long, straight black hair. She was not conventionally pretty, but…attractive. She turned out to be quiet, though sociable enough, and had a direct, unwavering gaze that was not hostile, not challenging, but just…well, she was looking.

In the way of old friends of mottled pasts, the only kind anyone at SOF ever had, we remembered the strange places and stranger times and this adventure and that, and I chatted a bit with Shere Khan. She said that she might come through Washington so I gave her my address, more from courtesy than any expectation of her using it.

Many months later in my condo just outside of Washington in Virginia, there was a knock at the door. I opened. There was Shere Khan, in jeans, with a serious backpack and her son Cody, maybe twelve.  It took me a few seconds to remember who she was.

For a then-single guy having such a phantasm appear at the door is a positive thing, certainly in the case of Shere Khan. I invited them in. She said she wanted to stay a week or two in DC, the implicit question being could they do so at my place. They could. I put them in my second bedroom, also office, with a large mattress on the floor which they quickly inhabited. I sensed that if anything else was going to happen, it would be sometime when Cody, who seemed to be a nice kid, was asleep.

The days went by. Shere Khan turned out to be smart and good company. We went several times to the Café Asia across Wilson Boulevard from my place where the waitresses were Far Eastern types, Malays, Viets, suchlike, mostly studying computer security or wide-area networking. Asians are Asians. She mentioned almost having married Larry McCray, a blues singer I had never heard of. Sometimes she cooked, a relief from what bachelors eat.

Like many who come to DC, she wanted to go to the Smithsonian. I instructed her in Metro’s mysteries and she set off with Cody, saying, as she had before, that she wanted to see the Native American Museum, or whatever they called it. I wondered why so much interest in Indians, and then, dolt that I am, realized: She was one. Slightly brown, high cheekbones, straight black hair. As it turned out by anatomical evidence, probably pureblood.

Early on she said that she and Cody were on their way to hike the Appalachian Trail. That explained the backpack, which was not quite an expedition pack but wasn’t a bookbag either and had an experienced look. With long legs and no extra weight, she was built for the AT.

I knew somewhat of the AT because my friend Robin and I sometimes did week-long, 85-mile hauls. This was slow by trail standards, 12 miles a day. Serious trail guys, the ones who were doing the whole 2,000 miles at one swallow, tended to be built—well, like Shere Khan, and they just sailed along. Last time out, we had met Hungry Bear—the long-hauls like to take trail names—maybe twenty-five, 6’3, lean as an ax handle, and took long, long strides that made me think of an Ent going to war. Shere Khan might have kept up. Cody, not yet, but he had the right mother.

The time came for them to head out. The night before, she sat on the floor in the living room, making her pack. She knew what she was doing, everything squoze down, put in order of when it would be needed. Surprised, I noticed the butt of a pistol. It was a lady’s gun, maybe 25 caliber, seven shot. Long thin fingers might have had a hard time managing a full-size Sig or Glock. Firearms are very illegal on the AT. Why the gun, I asked. “You never know who you might run into,” she said, in the same tone she might use in wondering where she had put that spare pair of socks.

She had a point. Backpackers are decent people, but there could always be an exception. A strong man could have tied her into a bowknot. She just wasn’t designed to fend off men, especially if there were two of them.

When I went for my concealed-carry permit in Virginia, you had to take a two-night course in how to use a pistol at the NRA headquarters on Waples Mill Road. The instructress was a female FBI agent who told the women in the class, “Those self-defense karate classes for women are worse than a joke because they would just piss the guy off. But five rounds to the center of mass will make almost anybody lose his erection.”

I think Shere Khan had this figured out. Given that serious gaze, not humorless, not drab, just…serious, I thought she would use that gun. If anybody had wanted to rape her or, God help him, touch Cody, I think it would have been seven rounds in the gut, maybe drag the body out of sight in the undergrowth and, miles down the trail, throw the gun far into the woods on in impassable downslope. I don’t think it would have bothered her. There were some things you didn’t do, and she and Cody were two of them.

I never saw her again, but I got a letter thanking me for the hospitality, enclosed with a CD by Larry McRae. Which was damned good blues.

Fred will be on vacation at the beach for a couple of weeks, but will resume his scurrilous and seditious maunderings on his return.

Read Fred’s Books! Or else. We know where you sleep.


FRED REED describes himself as [previously] a “Washington police reporter, former Washington editor for Harper’s and staff writer for Soldier of Fortune magazine, Marine combat vet from Viet Nam, and former long-haul hitchhiker, part-time sociopath, who once lived in Arlington, Virginia, across the Potomac River from the Yankee Capital.”
His essays “on the collapse of America” Mr. Reed calls “wildly funny, sometimes wacky, always provocative.”
“Fred is the Hunter Thompson of the right,” seconds Thomas E. Ricks in Foreign Policy magazine. His  commentary is “well-written, pungent political incorrectness mixed with smart military commentary and libertarian impulses, topped off with a splash of Third World sunshine and tequila.”



Killer Kink

Hardboiled is back! (The exclamation point is to arouse wild enthusiasm int the reader, a boiling literary lust.) Gritty crime fiction by longtime police reporter for the Washington Times, who knows the police from nine years of riding with them. Guaranteed free of white wine and cheese, sensitivity, or social justice.

FRED REED: Bads, Wads, And The Unlikelihood Of Reason: Thoughts On Two Verdicts

Crime, Critique, Ethics, FRED REED, GUNS, Justice, Law, Race, The South

In both the Rittenhouse and Arbery cases, we have Black Advocates, and White Advocates (Bads and Wads to avoid typing fatigue) squalling at each other

By Fred Reed

Oh God, oh God. Can we humans not contract out our governance to, say, cephalopods and stop trying to manage our own affairs? I mean, really. Girl octopodes are both smart and leggy. They aren’t crazy. What more do we want?

Recently we have had the verdicts in the Rittenhouse and Arbery trials, with which I assume the reader to be at least broadly familiar. If you are not, I congratulate you for avoiding the grocery-store tabloid intellectual level regnant in America.

Today, everything is identity politics, emotion, and herd instinct. Loyalty to one’s herd trumps all else, to include truth. Outside the courtroom, treatment of both trials was racial, ideological and, often, disingenuous if not dishonest. Inside the courtroom, neither was. This pack-instinct politics is an embarrassment.

In both cases, we have Black Advocates, and White Advocates (hereinafter Bads and Wads to avoid typing fatigue) squalling at each other. The Wads have never seen a white man who was guilty and the Bads, one who wasn’t. I don’t think I have ever encountered so much tendentious twaddle in one place, and I have lived in Washington.

But the juries got both right. For a practicing curmudgeon, this is devastating. There may be a hidden underlying vein of reason in the country.

In the Rittenhouse matter, the case, that the kid shot in self-defense, is obvious on the facts.  The jury agreed. In Arbery, the defense of the killers is weak, contrived, and illogical. The jury agreed.

Now, Arbery, briefly: Arbery was a black man who on at least five occasions (is said to have) entered a suburban house under construction, walked around, sometimes on surveillance video, and left without stealing anything. In Georgia, this is called “criminal trespass,” and is a misdemeanor, like littering. No theft, no vandalism, no burglary, no felony.

On the day of his death, Arbery, a known jogger, came out of the house, carrying nothing, not anything stolen, not a weapon, not a cellphone, and ran down the street. The three killers, assuming on no evidence that he must have committed a crime, began chasing him in two pickups. They ran him down in a chase lasting five minutes, used the trucks to force him in desired directions, trapped him on a street between the trucks. Apparently Arbery, exhausted and desperate, cornered, attacked the guy who had a twelve-gauge pump, who killed him with it. One of the three took video during the chase.

They later said they killed him in self-defense and claimed that they were conducting a citizen’s arrest. The latter claim, farfetched and not occurring until well after the event, was the only possible defense a lawyer could come up with. I suspect a lawyer did come up with it.

The self-defense approach doesn’t fly. If you are the aggressors, as for example chasing with pickups a frightened man, and you kill him when he finally fights back, in law you cannot claim self-defense. And when the odds are three men and two guns against an unarmed defender, self-defense is not persuasive.

Here the story becomes sordid. When I heard shortly after the killing that there would be no indictments, I thought, uh-huh, the fix is in. And the fix was indeed in. One of the killers who had worked in law enforcement called his friend, Brunswick District Attorney Jackie Johnson, and got her to  prevent an investigation, for which she was later indicted on a felony charge. The investigation and arrest came months later and only after the video went viral.

The jury found all three guilty of murder, whereupon white advocates called the proceedings a show trial, political, with the jury being intimidated, anti-white, and the like.

None of this is true. (If you have the interest and spare time, here is the prosecutions case in its entirety. Judge for yourself.) In identity politics, a show trial is one in which the verdict is not the one one’s herd wants. The jury is then said to be woke, corrupt, left-wing, right-wing, suborned, racist, white-hating, what have you It can’t be that the jury even-handedly pondered the facts and came to a considered conclusion.

Wads, as much as Bads, just make up evidence.  Various WADs stated as fact that Arbery, who frequently jogged through the neighborhood, did so “casing” it for future theft. Since there is no evidence that Arbery committed burglary, ever, this is invention. There is much innuendo, as for example stating that many thefts had occurred in the neighborhood and inviting the reader to conclude that Arbury was the thief. There is exactly no evidence for this.

In libel law this sort of thing is called “actual malice” or “reckless disregard of truth.” But the dead can’t sue.

Why the desperate attempt to find a felony for Arbery to have committed? Because without one,  the defense of making a citizen’s arrest doesn’t fly. That leaves them having hunted Arbery down and killed him with no authority to do so. This is called “murder.”

Citizen’s arrest: A private person may arrest an offender if the offense is committed in his presence or within his immediate knowledge. If the offense is a felony and the offender is escaping or attempting to escape, a person may arrest him on reasonable or probable grounds of suspicion.

The claim of making a citizen’s arrest smells to high heaven. There was no felony. Arbery came out of the house carrying nothing, as the killers could see. No felony had been committed in their presence since none had been committed at all. Further, statements by the three themselves show that they didn’t think Arbery had stolen anything, or didn’t know whether he had. These gut the defense of citizen’s arrest.

When the sheriff showed up, they would certainly have told him approximately, “We thought he was a burglar and so we wanted to hold him until the police came.” They didn’t. They didn’t tell Arbery they were making a citizen’s arrest.

Many seem not to understand the importance of this. The only question in the trial was whether the three were conducting a legitimate citizen’s arrest. If not, then with no right or authority whatsoever they had chased down a man who had not committed a felony, and killed him. That, ladies and gentlemen, is called “murder.”

Let us consider events from Arbury’s standpoint. He was out for a jog, as he had been many times before. He poked around the building site, as he and others had done before. He stole nothing. He didn’t know that he was a burglar in the eyes of the three paladins of justice. He didn’t know that they were planning a citizen’s arrest. Suddenly, armed white men in a pickup accost him, trying to cut him off. This is terrifying. They don’t tell him why. One says, or later claims to have, “I want to talk to you,” probably not in a chirpy voice with a broad smile. From Arbury’s point of view, this is not promising. Remember, he lives in Georgia. Arbury doesn’t reply, as why should he? He tries to evade, which is exactly what I would do. It is, I suspect, what a white person would do if cut off by armed blacks.

What should he have done, trapped, probably scared witless, with a white man pointing a shotgun at him? What does a black man in these circumstances believe to be the intentions of his pursuers? A beating? A rope? Burning? Death? To a white advocate in northern suburbs these may seem silly questions. To a black in Georgia, they don’t. His decision, to fight, got him killed.

It is interesting here to ask what the identity groups would have said had the races been reversed. For example, if three blacks had run down a white college student in otherwise identical circumstances. Or, if Rittenhouse had been a black kid attacked by Republicans, saying that his intent was to protect the right of BLM to hold lawful demonstrations. I think we all know the answer. And, when a nearly all-white jury in the Deep South convicts three white men of killing a black man, you can bet they believe it.

Guilty as charged.


FRED REED describes himself as [previously] a “Washington police reporter, former Washington editor for Harper’s and staff writer for Soldier of Fortune magazine, Marine combat vet from Viet Nam, and former long-haul hitchhiker, part-time sociopath, who once lived in Arlington, Virginia, across the Potomac River from the Yankee Capital.”
His essays “on the collapse of America” Mr. Reed calls “wildly funny, sometimes wacky, always provocative.”
“Fred is the Hunter Thompson of the right,” seconds Thomas E. Ricks in Foreign Policy magazine. His  commentary is “well-written, pungent political incorrectness mixed with smart military commentary and libertarian impulses, topped off with a splash of Third World sunshine and tequila.”





The FDA Has De Facto Classified The Data Upon Which It Relied To License Pfizer’s mRNA Covid Vaccine

Argument, COVID-19, Crime, Democrats, GUNS, Healthcare, Individual Rights, Justice, Law, Pseudoscience, The State

IF THIS DOESN’T GET THE SHEEPLE “THINKING,” nothing will. And no, this is not the Onion:

Apparently, the menageries of medical and news propagandists for the “clot shot” on the teli have not seen or studied the data upon which the government relied to license Pfizer’s COVID-19 vaccine.

In response to a belated Freedom of Information Act request by “more than 30 professors and scientists from universities including Yale, Harvard, UCLA and Brown,” the Food & Drug Administration has agreed to release the requested data by the year … 2076, over the course of the next 55 years.

The plaintiffs pleaded the obvious when their lawyer said,

It is difficult to imagine a greater need for transparency than immediate disclosure of the documents relied upon by the FDA to license a product that is now being mandated to over 100 million Americans under penalty of losing their careers, their income, their military service status, and far worse.

If this doesn’t tell you what the US government and bureaucracies think of The People, their rights and well-being; nothing does.

This is Sir Humphrey Appleby funny. (Every paleolibertarian is obliged to watch and worship the famed British satires about The State: “Yes, Prime Minister” and “Yes, Minister.”

Sir Humphrey Appleby to the PM: “Yes, Prime Minister: 55 years to produce the Pfizer Covid vaccine data is well within the law. No need to rush , if you know what I mean. But I’ll start the paperwork, shall I?” (Me channeling Sir Humphrey)

By making Pfizer’s COVID vaccine data essentially unavailable for scrutiny in their totality for decades to come—the FDA has in effect classified the data upon which it based a decision to license Pfizer’s mRNA vaccines.