InstaPunk Returns

   I am not a natively good person. I am a manufactured good person, a Thing brought back from 800 years ago to expiate some great unknown sin. The Witch of Yellow Springs said this about me many years ago, and I believe her.

 

  Lady Phyllis Jaqueline Dames She could cook up a page turner all right. Her detective was a nihilist poet named Alan Dogleash.  I wrote about him at Moon Books in  Shuteye Town 1999 . You can find the novel Bounden Duty here . Why is she leering at me?

 …As covered by my first blog, “Enough’s Enough,” in the Year 2000. This is only a link because the original resides in one of  two  websites of mine Facebook banned in toto years ago. The title is “ The ‘Crazy’ 2000 Election .” Feel free to look around at other parts of the site. 500+ posts about all kinds of subjects, many of them not at all political. You can find it in my book Gloves Off. Just a tick over five bucks. Hell of a deal.  

A post at Facebook I thought needed sharing here. A book priced as close to free as I could get at Kindle… This will be a cheap, very short Kindle book when done. Tired of all the girls everybody loved to death dying… SAVING YOUR LIFE Introduction I wouldn’t be writing this if the pandemic hadn’t created a huge drought in streaming entertainment. I used to do tongue in cheek advice to women on my blogs based on horror movies. Don’t get out of the car when your boyfriend says stay. Don’t fall down. Don’t scream when you could be running. Learn how to start a pickup truck without stalling when you’re being chased. That kind of thing. I never really believed that women were completely helpless when their lives were on the line. But I’ve spent a lot of time in recent weeks learning about real-life psychopaths and how real-life wives and girlfriends and sisters and mothers respond when they are living with, or meeting or dating, psychopaths, and now I believe I have some real advice to offe...

Why would I confuse these two? One a southern redneck and one a cool, calm, and collected Cockney. Good call. Bad call. Wait to the end to see.

WE IDENTIFY AS BEAVERS The Beaver is, well, the Beaver. What more can you say? The other one has many names, including  a French one, siffleux , but also many pejorative nicknames, including land pig, groundhog, monax,  chuck,  whistlepig, thickwood badger, Canada marmot, and even the blatantly speciesist land beaver.  [EDITOR: We did not mean to drop you in the middle of a firestorm between combatants who are as hard to tell apart as Transgenders and Transvestites and, you know. If you scroll to the end of this post, you’ll find two excellent Wiki descriptions of the two (or more) species in conflict here. We apologize for any confusion you’ve already experienced, especially you women, who react so emotionally to such kerfuffles.] There’s no football team called the Whistlepigs or Woodchucks. (There’s a hockey team in Winnipeg called the Siffleux , but local convention tends to mispronounce it as Siffylus.) Only one of many reasons why a new protest movement has bee...

 Harry is still the story of me .

From a long way back… Memories of references to Harry , who was always me after all…

Illustration of Robert Burns’s Auld Lang Syne A word in defense of New Years celebrations that long antedate woke globalization and childish fixations on cultural appropriation*. According to current tribalism orthodoxy, nobody but Scots should have any right to this song. This should be the only approved version: But what are the lyrics and what might they mean? Thing is, they’re written in a marginalized dialect suppressed by British colonialism called  Êcottics  by the French, who have never understood a single word spoken by Scots. (Like me.) Here’s the only translational guide you can expect… Permitting you to translate the original verses by the colonialized Scotter named Robert Burns:    Auld Lang Syne Robert Burns - 1759-1796 Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And auld lang syne!       Chorus:       For auld lang syne, my dear,      For auld lang syne....

Sir Lewis Hamilton So there’s been controversy. Here … Here … Here … …and elsewhere too. To top it off, Max was his usual gracious self . Sadly, Max will always carry an asterisk next to his first world championship in F1. It will hang over his head for his whole career, however long it lasts. He knows it, and we do too. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t feel sorry for Lewis either. Yes, he got robbed, but he’s won 103 Grand Prix races and 7 world championships, achievements Max Verstappen will never equal. Max might win three or four, but he’s an asshole, and he’s not driving for Ferrari, where you can get away with his kind of shit. Max is a bully, a destroyer of tires and cars and other drivers, and that will catch up to him in the long run. The drivers who have been knighted in the UK weren’t blessed by their wins as much as their character. All three before Lewis — Jackie Stewart, Stirling Moss, and Jack Brabham — didn’t have as many wins in total as Lewis Hamilton. They were, like ...

Promise you, I’ll be fiddling with this one for a while. It’s too big for one go. Bear with me. CHYOS Club I’m going to show you a thundering herd of links. In a very deep sense, Oxford University is the compleat brain of the United Kingdom. If you’re to understand this post, you’re going to have to read, to look at long lists and deep piles of evidence. Their impact is simply too big to summarize in a neat way. Oxford is the intellectual culture of Britain, and its impact on the United States is not calculable so much as huge and inevitable. Oxford 1920, as depicted by Chariots of Fire. England 2020. 100  years later. How to  get  from there to here. So very simple. Oxford U. Evelyn Waugh, the greatest Brit writer of the 20th century, explained it all to the rest from his own Oxford throne;  https://affirmationsmodern.com/articles/71/ : FTA: <<In 1946 the English novelist Evelyn Waugh infamously proclaimed that he did not write satire. Satire, Waugh wrote, “pr...

  Now listen for the refrain… Can you blame them? Masks, no school, no classroom banter, no locker gossip, no parties, no dancing, no sports, no fun, just continuing promises of an end that turn out to be lies while the masks keep landing on our ever younger (5yo?) brothers and sisters. Right. All faceless forever… abcdefu .

As Paul Harvey would say, here’s the rest of the story. I’ve been obsessing about the Death of America , boring everybody, especially my wife, to tears. I’m right about how bad it is, but that doesn’t matter, does it? “Don’t be a Debbie Downer” is the real American Way. I get it. Well, I’ve got it now. A young lady I got to watch grow from teenage angst to mature married beauty sent me photographs of the costume she wore at her office Christmas party this year. She gave me credit for introducing her to Veronica Lake. Okay. I’m pleased and proud. And hopeful, even if only for a moment. Imagination, glamor, wit, and humor never go out of style. They might even save us in the end.

  The Great New Partee! “ Want to party all the time …” Yes, they’re all dressed up in the fancy new gowns  and uniforms of the Equity Movement, Critical Race Theory, Antifa/BLM, LGBTQ Liberation, the Green New Deal, Pandemic Control, and, you know, Social Justice generally. But the fact of it is, there are no new clothes, just as there are no new alphabetic characters or new ideas on offer. What appear to be clothes on this page are what all the new new new progressive initiatives are — body paint and very little more. Except for the mask and veil, not a stitch on for the new Queen, Alexandra. It’s all still what it has always been on the American New Left in my lifetime. Naked Protesting . Yes, you CAN watch it. Just click on the underscored  ‘Watch’ sentence.  The only real pros at getting away  with being starkers in  public are babies.  Sad when  they get to be older. Worse when they’re pushing 80. Except that now we’re involved in an elabor...