Being the continuation of InstaPunk and InstaPunk Rules
Newsmax “Conservative website” my ass.
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Anything in here about gas prices? Got gas three weeks ago at $2.65.9 per gallon. Got gas today at $2.93.9 per gallon. The Biden Administration cares about average Americans? Can you find gas prices on today’s Newsmax headlines? No.
Actually, their idea of news hopeful and helpful to conservatives is boasting how much better they are doing in traffic than other so-called conservative websites, none of which has been conservative for a long long time. The great news is, they’re a winner since inauguration (unlike the rest of us), along with the lame deadsoft Parler and WhoMe (WhyMe?) or whatever that usufruct of FB skirmishers calls itself.
Fox News and National Review have plunged in popularity (24-46 percent). Do tell. Newsmax actually thinks National Review became anti-Trump after the election. (Huh?) They don’t mention Breitbart. Rivals, you know. But I can assure them Breitbart is now spelling and punctuating better than a 5th grader, or some of them anyway, and they’re as objectively professional as, well, Newsmax.
Sadly, most of you are getting your news from the Neo-RINOs — namely Newsmax and Breitbart — featuring an obsolete ideal of ‘objective journalism’ articulated by tired columnists as old as the Democrat leadership, while the MSM Left is nakedly propping up a president who has delegated his biggest responsibilities to a second-rate California roundheels politico who is to executive experience what an HR VP is to corporate management, an officious regulatory ballbuster defending the overhead bottom line by intimidating the people who do the real work. Queen Kamala has never run anything. Now she’s assigned by our Swiss-cheese-brained president to fix a COVID situation the press asks nothing about and a border crisis the president won’t even admit exists. Does anybody inquire into this? Research her executive experience in depth? Nooooo. Arch innuendo will suffice, if it’s mentioned at all.
I mean, what does it take to defeat the cancerous Uni-Party Borg that’s devouring the Constitution and American lives at a terrifying clip? We just have to keep responding with reasonableness to vicious, unreasoning despots. Right? Of course. What it means to be right, right?
At a minimum, do any of the conservative brainiacs think just because they live in Jellystone Park, no one in flyover country will notice a 40 percent increase in gas prices since the Doddering Delaware Destroyer moved into the White House?
Far be it from them to take a cue from the original Delaware Destroyer, the non-zombie one, and fight back with some actual hard hits.
I’ve some “max” news for all of you. I’ve been bad to the bone all my adult life. Played and won this exact 8-ball game with exactly the same guys from Cape May to Millville to Salem to Philly to Bear, Delaware. Usually won. I’ve Mad-Max-crossed the Delaware twin bridges and the Ben Franklin on Harleys and Nortons at 75 mph. I was in the crowd of 120,000 at JFK stadium when Journey, with the country’s chart topping hit Don’t Stop Believin’ opened for the Stones in 1981 to yawns and the last act before the main event was George Thorogood. The place erupted, topped later on only by Mick and Keith, ants on a faraway stage with no Jumbotron. We know our own. Journey was nothing to Philly. George and the Stones were something. You and Newsmax and Breitbart aren’t it. Why I parted company with Facebook long months ago.
Why am I coming back for a few late posts? I’m struggling on the best way to complete my biggest MS in a decade or three: Death of the Republic. You’re all implicated in that. Just say, I needed a few more pale “Likes” to refocus my resolve. Every comment as blank and uncommunicative as “Like” hardens my resolve to complete my oft-stated task of leaving a record for those who will come later. After you. After your kids and grandkids. When some punks somewhere will have to start fitting the broken pieces back together.
But I do acknowledge that all us Facebook Friends are family. Hello, my family:
People thought Satanic Majesties was copying Sergeant Pepper.
Nope. Stones were pushing the boundaries. The Metamorphosis
LP was Stones spoofing pompous Beatles again. (Lady Jane?)
Everyone’s gone wrong on culture issues. Except, that is, for me.
All you hippies and Gaians and Wiccans and greenies and all-around-do-gooders and passive aggressive politically correct liberals and resignedly tolerant RINOs who thought the last half of the 20th century was about the Beatles and the new age of Aquarius were wrong. It was always about 1984. The Death Card of the Tarot. The bleak wall Pink Floyd described and succumbed to without understanding it for a moment. The 20th century was always about The Rolling Stones. A ticket you needed not to ride but to survive.
Before you had your Rainbow, we had ours. The 6th Rolling Stone.
In all those years, the goddess Tina never did Gimme Shelter. Why?
Couldn’t. Merry Clayton could. Tina never could. Wanna talk Yoko?
Oh. The female part. That would be Merry Clayton.
The history changing part? That would be not Beatles but Stones.
You weren’t there. Life was. When the 50 Year War
began. I never ever stopped. Saw how bad it’s got.
See. I was there for all of it. Lennon, not Jagger, was the one accused of molesting a minor female child. You all think you know. I was there. You weren’t.
The Beatles were an Ed Sullivan Show phenomenon. The Stones were our life unfolding. Yesterday, Philly radio host Don Giordano, who’s pretty damn sure he knows everything, did his usual Question of the Day, Who’s your favorite band? Only rule? No Beatles, no Stones. I almost parked the car.
Giordano. Knows everything, knows nothing. He still, religiously, watches the Jerry Seinfeld Show. Repeatedly. What he has instead of religious faith. Why the Republic is dead. Gimme Shelter.
Truthfully, you can’t be a fan of both Beatles and Stones.
Proof. The Beatles lasted 5 years as a top band. The Rolling Stones lasted 50+. You do the math.
[ Before we begin, a word about hyperlinks in this and any Instapunk post. They’re there to help you, not create a series of distracting digressions. Good rule of thumb: note that the link is there, take it if you can’t resist, but try to finish reading the post and then go back to any hyperlinks that still intrigue you. Videos are reader’s now/later choice every time. Absolute linearity is the obsession of the obsolete typewriter crowd.] The Preface to this post is here . Göbekli Tepe. 12,500 years old. Belief in the existence of the divine lasted for 12,340 yrs. This is very long. I had to write down what I was thinking in some detail. I’m glad I did, but you don’t have to read it at one sitting. If you like, you can skip all the way down to the Section titled “The Secular Dead End” and get the tone and gist of my perspective, leaving the substance till later or never. Understood? Let’s get down to it. What’s the Big Thing that matters most, more than anything? Answer? The...
You Bought Your Ticket… Now Here’s Your Ride! Over at Facebook, I posted a glib and unserious reel about the Swearing In of Zoltan Mandamme in an abandoned subway station. Talk about your hopeful venues…! I really should take it seriously, but I find it almost impossible because I know some well-to-do Manhattanites who have been on board with all the TDS seizures in NYC over the last 10 years. I think of them and immediately wonder just how many cartoon graphics Google has for the search phrase “cutting off your nose to spite your face.” Answer? A lot. Best of all I imagine that Big Moment, you know the one, when the roller-coaster reaches the tippy-top of the first hill and pauses… just before it plunges in into clackety-clack abyss. That pause moment is the pinnacle of the roller-coaster ride. You, yourself, and thou alone with your excitement and trepidation. Everything after that is just hanging on and screaming until the ride just seems too long and you want out a...
WW2 Flying Tigers P-40 showing Ace-level kills at “Threads” based on notifications of 50 to 100 Likes for various replies I’ve made to TDS ranters. I’ve been in a down mood as we approach the end of 2025 and the completion of Trump’s first year in office since 2020. My annual End of Year post will describe my big picture view, but this post will fill in a significant part of that picture and can be used as a basis for endorsement or dismissal of my personal perspective. The social network app called Threads has been reference here previously, after my first exploratory encounters with what I’ve termed the “submerged 10 percent of Trump haters” the real percentage is probably much higher than a tenth, but these are the noncelebrity Rosie O’Donnells and Robert De Niros who are so obsessed with Trump that they have to type it out loud at the top of their keyboard lungs on a daily basis. After my first few brushes with them, I began to think that there’s something important goi...
The Blue Pill speaks. I did something unconscionable on the last day of 2025. I posted End of Year Thoughts for 2025 at the conclusion of the first turbulent Year of Trump 2.0 and barely mentioned Trump. The post was over 12,000 words long and linked four directly related posts by name that totaled another 12,000 words. I must have rocks in my head. As I expected, it hasn’t drawn much traffic yet. I even took the unusual step for me of posting a promotional reel for my own post, which is also off to a modest start. 23 views, as compared to my most popular reel this month, which got 30,000 hits making fun of Tim Walz. I’m not even disappointed. It’s the holiday season and social network traffic is down across the board. As I said when I posted it on the 31st, I wrote it because I had to. Nobody has to read it because I want them to. I’d have left it there to find its own way in its own good time, except that as I have experienced far more frequently than the laws of co...
We have one, secretly transmitted to us via the DarkNet… If you’re not allowed to play with DarkNet stuff, go no further. Fair warning. Don’t show this to anybody else. It could damage reputations… Who’s that smirking at Bill from behind the lavender incense cloud? (Don’t click on the pic; we can’t be responsible for what you find)
The Inaugural Rufus T. Firefly Prize So there are going to be all these prizes handed out by the eminent because invisible Marx Committee. The Committee stands on a handful of glorious principles, including in no particular order, Wars must be either lost or unending, ‘Democracy’ belongs exclusively to those who say the word the most times, the Only Guideline for global governance is ‘America Last,’ and the One and Only Great Commandment of Democratic leaders is “LOOK AT ME!” That’s why the first of many Marx Prizes will not be awarded to an American but to exemplary Furriners, meaning people we can all learn a lot from. The first of them will be the Rufus T. Firefly Prize, given to furriners who are the most eloquent about how to deal with the One Great Evil that trumps all other evils. And here they are… Subsequent prizes will be awarded as they are earned, regardless of month or year or the number of seconds showing to Zero Hour on the One True Atomic Clock, which is held in t...
Edward Hopper, severified by me . If I can surprise myself on a Friday morning otherwise filled with nervous chatter, maybe I can help someone else achieve a more reflective mood as we approach the weekend. Here are a few tidbits that popped up when I checked what visitors had viewed in the last 24 hours. Not here for the funny this time. More fractal than that… sometimes it feels like they’re looking for me , in bits and pieces. I’ve corrected some link problems with these. The Internet is growing old and forgetful faster than I am… I am Cassandra Ru-u-u-sh Awaaay… [All] Things Fall Apart The Creepy Line (The trailer will do for now. Come back later if you’re intrigued.) Every Once in a While I Remember My Roots They’re not (necessarily) very long, except for the last one. And this one… It’s Called a Rhombi…hedron
Same idea. Turned into a galoop by misplaced trust in wrong’ uns. Christmas was especially generous to the Gateway Pundit yesterday, offering up a bonanza of Punch-and-Judy type slapstick comedy. The stars included both knowns and unknowns in the lefty art of making fools of themselves as they act out some of the dumber parts of the aging Panderer Playbook. Rather than string them together at Facebook as if they were breaking news that mattered, Instapunk decided to string them together here as an entry in his old regular feature, The Friday Follies. No more setup needed. Just sit back and laugh. Dressing up for the Holidays FTA: <<Minnesota Lt. Gov. Peggy Flanagan appeared in a video wearing a hijab while addressing members of the Somali community, gushing about how they’re woven into the “fabric” of the state. Flanagan, of course, is not Muslim. This comes amid growing backlash against Somali-linked fraud scandals in her state, which drained billions in taxpayer dollars. Flan...
Good ol’ W has put himself back in the news recently, bemoaning the plight of Afghans whose escape route to America via the Biden EZ-Pass might come unglued. A man’s got to have his priorities. Anyhow, I was reminded by his return to the public eye that I had an orphan piece about his 43ness floating around somewhere in the electronic ether I live in. There was a place called Shuteye Town 1999 , in which there was a mall store called Moon Books, in which there was a book for sale titled ‘Loving Ameria 2’ by George Hubert Walker Chevy Snaffle Adidas Bush IV. You had to use your video game savvy to get inside Moon Books w/o getting arrested thiugh… * The Bore Backgrounder exists too. Still needs formatting… For more than 50 of the books sold at Moon, you could click on titles and see the front and back covers. For a lot of those, there was also a representative text sample and background on the writers. Unfortunately, Internet life has been complicated for ST99, and at ...
Alone in the wee hours. When I think. This is my Sage photo. Taken at 3 in the morning on my iPad, unretouched, just a still from a 30 second video with just incidental lighting. Just me. I hold no office, have no title, have no books on sale in any brick and mortar bookstores, and have acquired no material fortune on which to build my own memorial. Why should anyone listen to what I have to say? Until age slowed me down physically, drastically reduced my mobility, I considered myself a member of the thinking community, applying my education and diverse work experience to the challenges of life and cultural expression like a great many other of my peers. The passage of years changes that perspective. You (meaning I, I suppose) start to realize there are fewer and fewer people like you, including friends and family, with whom you can have productive, wide ranging interactions and discussions. This is a point at which one can start to feel alone, as if time has passed y...
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