Category Archives: The Zeitgeist

Western Man Forgives Unspeakable Violence Against Himself And Those He’s Obligated To Protect

Christianity, Crime, Education, Family, Kids, Left-Liberalism, Race, Racism, The Zeitgeist

Kids like Ethan Williams are sent into the world wide-eyed and filled with only wonderment. (Read “Sacrificing Kids To PC Pietism,” 2011 and “Progressive Crazies Are Getting The Kids Killed.”) Nary a warning are they issued as to the reality of crime in America—and beyond. Parents are instrumental in these tragic events, having never given their kids “The Talk,” as John Derbyshire called it.

As a neighborhood to bunk down in, during a visit to New York City, Ethan Williams chose Bushwick (pictured). Bushwick is known as dangerously and diversely hip. Was this reckless decision not made against the background of a lifelong, familial devotion to such displays of hipness, “openness” and an obsession with The Other?

His father, Jason R. Williams, says the kid was all about curing “poverty and violence” and doing “mission work in Rwanda” (as opposed to in white, impoverish Appalachia).

Likely race-related, the murder of this typical innocent do-gooder, Ethan Williams, was masked as a ‘stray bullet.’ Writes his father, who—it has to be said—seems to have helped cement this delusional, progressive-Christian ideation in his kid’s mind:

Police believe our son’s killer mistook him and his friends for rival gang members. They were instead just a group of Midwestern boys on their first trip to see “the greatest city in the world.” If he had been given the chance, without question Ethan would have embraced his would-be killer, asked his name and hung out on those same steps with him swapping stories deep into the night.

From “Sacrificing Kids To PC Pietism (2011)“:

Here is how an alien from deep space would puzzle over the creatures who, by dint of a miracle, still dominate the Western world:

This prototypical Western man is flabby in body and mind. He is fearful and easily cowed. He erupts in tears at a drop of a hat. He is gripped by the culture of apology, and flagellates over sins he has not committed. His eternal state of expiation is driven not by goodness, but by insufferable self-righteousness.

This archetypal Western man forgives unspeakable violence against himself and those he is obligated to protect. He would not hurt a fly, much less repel a foe. An astute alien (from deep space) would notice that, in this regard, there is not a dime’s worth of difference between the “conservative” and “liberal” earthling. Both insist on catering to and enabling organized entities—in politics and in other crime— that despise them for their abilities and frailties, and instinctively seek to harm them.

These hostile identity groups segregate themselves voluntarily from the western weakling …
Flash- feral mobs flood places of commerce across the once-great country of America. What does the overwhelmed creature under observation do? “Conservative” or liberal, he refuses to finger his assailants. Instead, his experts implicate abstractions (“risk-taking”), and his media mouthpieces (Daily Beast or and Fox News) point to technology such as social media. Yet another, least logical, bogus causal agent invoked: the racism of the Democratic Party.

Not only does this generic Joe refuse to identify his proud, empowered attackers, but he rejects the possibility that they act out of ingrained animus for his kind. The swarms that descended to take what is his—to hurt him and even kill him—he jocularly terms mischief-makers, teens, twitter-operators, technology savvy youth. Yes, this brow-beaten, emasculated, excuse-for-a-man uses diminutives to describe the contempt-filled stalkers who menace him and who would squash him like the bug he is.

If not for YouTube footage of the racially uniform formations terrorizing businesses in Chicago’s Magnificent Mile, in the upmarket area of Streeterville, in Georgetown, Washington, D.C., in Las Vegas, in St. Paul, Minnesota, in Philadelphia, on and on—our studious alien from outer space would be none the wiser about the hue of hatred on Planet Earth. As the man from outer space has surmised, his strange subjects are certainly impervious to facts.

 

* Image thanks.

FRED REED Tells About An LGBTQ Legal Landmark And Other DC Porn. For Real.

America, Comedy & Humor, FRED REED, Homosexuality, The Zeitgeist

Fred tells me this is a true story. My male acquaintances will tell you I’m truly gullible. Judge Abraham Offalhaouser’s name makes me suspect otherwise. But who am I to argue with Barely A Blog’s Hunter Thompson, as he recounts the “kinks and dinks” of his beat for the Washingtonian magazine.—ilana

By FRED REED

My name’s Bond…Fred Bond. I’m a freelance news weasel in Washington DC, the heart of a darkness that would have made Conrad slit his wrists. Before, I worked as the gas-warfare editor for Soldier of Fortune magazine, but the demand for down-market extinction porn dried up and DC looked to be the best available gig. I write a column called Under the Table for the Washingtonian, the city’s suburban coffee-table magazine. The column was the sort called in the trade a bullshitter, combining mendacity and the scurrilous with a keen eye on the libel laws. It was clearly distinguishable from the Washington Post in that it had a glossy cover.

The editors wanted grotesquery about the urban blasted heath, tales of scams and fraud, and what lovely secretary was suspected of sharpening what pol’s pencil. I wasn’t sure why anyone would read it, but the Washingtonian paid me and at least it wasn’t boring. Journalism is a ticket to ride, said Hunter Thompson, but ticket to a freak show would have been as accurate.

My beat was the weird and embarrassing, tidbits shocking enough to stand out against the backdrop of national politics. This wasn’t always easy. It was a time of sexual liberalization. All sorts of kinks and dinks were seeking legitimacy—gays, S&M freaks, TVs—and I was supposed to chronicle their antics. There were lots. At night in the Shaw district, you could see cute little blonde twinky-boys in not much more than jockstraps trying to pick up drive-by federal accountants cheating on their wives and there was a huge black guy who looked like an NFL running back in a thong bikini and size-eighteen high heels.

Then there was Bobby Genovese, a geeky video-game designer with bad skin who worked at a gay computer-repair shop called Stack Overflow in Arlington, in the Virginia suburbs. One day he announced that he wanted to marry his dog Mosfet. No one took him seriously. For the times it seemed unimaginative. It was assumed that he was just looking for publicity for his new video game, Fido and the Wolf Priest of Nifflheim. Fido had a laser cannon mounted on his back and there was a castle of some sort and beautiful boys who looked like Tim of Finland who apparently couldn’t afford clothes. I think they turned into wolves or something. Anyway, the magazine ran it as a two-graff throwaway piece in Under the Table. It seemed fairly routine. Anyway he was turned down for a marriage license.

Then Bobby showed up at the courthouse with Henrietta Kamen-Ruggler, a recent grad out of Georgetown Law apparently looking to jumpstart a career. DC has a lot of lawyers and to get on the gravy train, you have to get attention some way or else steal something big and not get caught. She argued that the state had no mandate to determine the scope of marital affection. Given the atmosphere of extreme liberalism prevailing in the city, and the lack of case law, the court was baffled, but finally ruled that Mosfet and Bobby were both male, and same-sex marriage was legal if not yet mandatory. However, ruled judge Abraham Offalhaouser, Mosfet was underage and under Virginia law would need his parents’ permission. Whether he was kidding wasn’t clear but, though it sounded strange, the statute was clear in the Virginia code. This produced memorable testimony about admissibility of kennel records and DNA.

I wrote about this with as much apparent sanity as I could muster. Bobby wanted to appeal to the Supreme Court but by then Henrietta had been hired by Mother Jones to cover the struggle to liberate transphylum love, whatever the hell that meant. Maybe it involved cucumbers or something. Anyway, I supposed that he and Fido would have to live in sin, though I tried not to think about it.

Then for a while nothing spectacular happened. I interviewed Bribona Corona -Gonzalez about her book, Snuff: The Problem of Lasting Relationships. She said she wrote the book because people looked at her like some kind of nut and she wanted to improve the image of the snuff community, which seemed to have considerable turnover. Later, needing a story, I went to the Eagle, an S&M  bar on the Hill. I hoped for something garish and horrifying but aside from smelling like my catcher’s mitt when I was eleven it was boring. When the bartender in a leather bar wants to talk about subcommittee appointments in the Senate, something is wrong with the world.

Some time later I sold the editor on a series about the police. It involved ridealongs in places that might change your view of the world you live in. It was a class gig because all I had to do was ride around with the cops at night and write about murder, degradation, and sordidness. These fascinate a voyeuristic public bored to the point of suicide with pointless federal jobs and athirst for something garish and grotesque. Writing about the garden-seed industry—that would be tough. But I was getting bored myself. I mean, one dead body is pretty much like another. They don’t do anything, just lie there. Not too dynamic.

One night I rode with a cop I knew who probably doesn’t need his name in print. We went to a topless joint called The Northern Exposure to see a really great stripper who danced under the stage name of Noodles Romanoff. Our concern was that without police presence violence might break out. You can’t tell about strippers. They can become violent at any moment. Her history according to the manager was that she had been born Bahrain Goebbelsstrudel, daughter of a German tire heiress and a minor Arab fixer. Supposedly she had been working in a bar in Seattle when the police came looking for her on charges of being a nurse-poisoner in an earlier life and she had fled to DC. It was rumored on the Hill that she had been secretly dating John Bolton but with that scratchy codpiece mustache he looks like an ambulatory toothbrush so I didn’t think the story had much credence.

Later it turned out that Noodles was a medical student at Johns-Hopkins who wanted some extra money. Anyway I wrote about her for Under the Table. The publicity made her dye her hair and change her name to Kandy Barr, and keep dancing until she had to quit to study for her medical boards.

There were a lot of strippers. One called herself Persimmon Sighing Cloud and danced as a lineal descendant of Crazy Horse. Her real name was Urethra Warren or Veronica Warren or something like that. She talked about her childhood on the reservation and had a large following of guys who said they just watched her to support indigenous peoples.

I was going to tell you about Mike Pompeo and the size-fifty red-sequinned miniskirt with pompoms but we are out of space. Some other time.

******************************************

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.”

FRED’S BOOKS ARE ON AMAZON, HERE

FRED’S ARTICLES ARCHIVE

WATCH: Bearded Men Breast Feeding In Public: Paternal Or Kinky?

Argument, Etiquette, Family, Gender, Homosexuality, Individual Rights, Kids, Pop-Culture, Sex, The Zeitgeist

NEW On “Hard Truth With David Vance And ilana Mercer”:

Bearded Men Breast Feeding In Public: Paternal Or Kinky?”

Welcome to “Hard Truth With David Vance And ilana Mercer“: It seems that mum is no longer the word. Something’s not quite right here. David and ilana unpack.

It’s on Podcast:

https://hardtruthwithdavidvanceandilanamercer.podbean.com/e/bearded-men-breast-feeding-in-public-paternal-or-kinky/

Subscribe to the podcast.

Hard Truth With David Vance And ilana Mercer is in the app stores.

And it’s on:

YouTube:

Something ‘Harrowing’ Happened To Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez, Queen Of #MeFirst Solipsism

America, Democrats, Feminism, Gender, Government, Propaganda, The Zeitgeist

American “thought” leader Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez and her recent “harrowing” ordeal made headlines.

Here are some of the histrionic, vapid, “news” titles, echoing this silly, middle-class American woman, who grew up in suburban Yorktown Heights, and knows how to play up her Hispanic roots.

See if you can spot the operative word that captured lazy writers:

“AOC reveals more personal details in new harrowing video …”

“AOC shares harrowing Capitol riot experience, reveals she’s a ..”.

“Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez recalls her harrowing … – CBS News”

The prize goes to:

“’I Thought I Was Going To Die”: AOC Details Harrowing Day …”

Here is the queen of American, MeFirst solipsism: