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Freedom of Speech is Not Up for Debate (Memes)

Freedom of Speech is Not Up for Debate (Memes)

There’s always some excuse.

‘Hate speech is not freedom of speech!’ Continue Reading

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A Cocktail of Journalistic Insights

A Cocktail of Journalistic Insights

Dateline: NEW YORK—Make no mistake, journalists drilled down and told a cautionary tale of the bombshell that landed on a dumpster fire in the middle of a firestorm, after the grilling of senators who pivoted to whether they’d reached a tipping point or were just playing politics, not fearing the optics of thinking outside the box at the crossroads of their last ditch effort, although there was plenty of blame to go around in this searing indictment of the favourite Washington parlor game that turned a blind eye on a potent symbol of the game-changer which donned the mantle of a hotly contested feeding frenzy.

Needless to say, it remains to be seen in the 24-hour news cycle of the digital age, whether, at first glance, the woefully inadequate, byzantine rules that burst onto the scene will allow the punditocracy to breathe a sigh of relief or will force it to probe the powers that be for the American people, but those rules double-down with strange bedfellows in the wake of keen observers of tongue-wagging, well-heeled lobbyists who met with an ignominious end in the final analysis at the end of the day when, for all intents and purposes, cooler heads prevailed at the inflection point of no return that was shrouded in secrecy in an ill-advised, much-ballyhooed, hastily-convened, closely-watched and oft-cited paradigm shift of a broken system that underscores the object lesson of this Rorschach test.

Be that as it may, this is not your father’s tectonic shift, if you will, and Christmas came early for skittish donors in that land of contradictions which ushered in an eye-popping era in a nutshell that, contrary to popular belief, prevented anyone from acknowledging the new normal in which there are no face-saving compromises and we all press each other’s hot-button issues which are the talk of the town, yet a portrait emerges of a grizzly veteran who endured withering criticism in a dizzying array of wide-ranging interviews in a nondescript office building, and of the poster child of an unsung hero who was tapped to rise from obscurity and spark a debate that raised the specter of hand-wringing partisans on both sides who traded barbs in a war of words and walked on thin ice in a charm offensive, going forward as creatures of Washington in a stinging rebuke to the fevered speculation of the proverbial growing body of evidence that shines a spotlight on a political football, which raises more questions than answers about the tightly knit social fabric.

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Who Are The Real Victims of a Female Meritocracy? (3/3)

Who Are The Real Victims of a Female Meritocracy? (3/3)

The meritocracy had matured and grown tired.

Rampant self-sacrifice had gone unchecked by the selfish needs of the village women.

No one had stopped to consider the consequences.

The unfortunates were too busy encouraging their husbands to do the right thing so they too could experience the pleasures of the fortunate.

But when the last unfortunate was elevated they all became unfortunates once again.

As the only male left in the village capable of producing children it was up to the chief to get busy right away and start making more unfortunates.

He laid out his plan and began fleshing out a schedule that would be fair to everyone.

His wife, out of breath from carrying all of the double winners across the village to attend the meeting, stared at him slack jawed.

What about her?

She was the one doing all the work now and the meritocracy had made no room for her whatsoever.

She had run head first into the paradox that accompanies all meritocracies.

The person doing the most work got the least reward.

Just as the chaos of democracies always lead to despots, the inherent unfairness of meritocracies always breeds a victim class.

And the chief’s wife would spend the rest of her life as one of those victims always on the lookout for someone to blame.

Now when her and the chief passed each other in the village, him off to a hut to make another unfortunate and her the only one left to piggyback past winners, cook the food, watch the kids, dig the aZZanddis and chase down dinner for the whole village she could do little more than give him dirty looks and wonder if he had cooked the whole thing up right from the beginning.

He always pretended not to notice and hurried on his way.

 

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Who Are The Real Victims of a Female Meritocracy? (2/3)

Who Are The Real Victims of a Female Meritocracy? (2/3)

When the second head-on-a-stick showed up a few days later it didn’t have the same jounce as the first one.

The holy man tried to whip up the same disquietude he’d enjoyed with the first head-on-a-stick.

Everyone went about their business and ignored his pleas. Continue Reading

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Who Are The Real Victims of a Female Meritocracy? (1/3)

Who Are The Real Victims of a Female Meritocracy? (1/3)

Dahomey, Africa 1842

The first one appeared in the village; stuck dead center in the communal fire pit, looking frightened and lonely.

Staring down at the ground through droopy eyes, it looked as if it was afraid of falling over.

The villagers approached it with caution.

No one recognized the head-on-a-stick.

And no one knew where it came from or how it got there.

Showing up uninvited and unwelcome, the holy man approached the head-on-a-stick cautiously and waved his bent staff in the air.

The same one he used to channel information down from the unseen and unheard to the frequently-not-listening.

But as the self-anointed representative of the invisible, mute and ineffective, it was his job to interpret things such as this; and he quickly pronounced it a sign of dire spiritual consequence.

In his bailiwick most things had to be; otherwise he wouldn’t have anything to do.

He hopped around the head-on-the-stick on one leg.

First forwards then backwards.

He poked the thing in each of its eyes with his holy staff, tugged at its ears and smacked it on the top of its head a few times.

After a moment’s consideration he loudly proclaimed the head-on-the-stick to be a warning that something very bad was about to happen.

His exhortations to leave the village were met with eye rolls and condescending chuckles.

The chief had been watching and listening from the back of the crowd.

He liked the old guy, but knew him to be a bit off the log.

He’d told him time and again that vagueness was the key.

And to always leave himself an “out” when making spiritual predictions.

The holy man hadn’t listened, and continued on with unerring inaccuracy.

His credibility had been used up long ago.

The only ritual the villagers participated in nowadays was the Saturday night dance when they got to dress up in dead animal parts and sashay around the fire pit.

That was just good fun.

“If they want us to leave so badly why don’t they just write SCRAM in the dirt and leave it at that?”

The question shouted from the crowd deflated the holy man.

His shoulders stooped, and his magic stick dropped to his side.

He began to scratch out sad little doodles in the dirt.

Unanswerable questions used to be the holy man’s bread and butter.

It was the one thing that kept him from having to work out in the hot sun all day; or risk his neck in the bush, sneaking up on dinner.

The chief, feeling he needed to move things along, asked the group, “Well if we don’t really know for sure, why take the chance?”

He was a believer in the separation of church and state, but helping out the other side now and again wouldn’t do much harm.

The response was lukewarm at best.

Since his job was the well being of the tribe, he ordered the villagers to vamoose.

He tried to soften the directive by assuring them it would only be for a little while.

The evacuation was halfhearted and disorderly, with lots of grumbling and head shaking.

They were disappointed the chief took the holy man’s side in all of this silliness, but dutifully grabbed whatever they could carry and meandered off…

Unsure of where they were going to go, while awaiting the all clear.

After a week or so nothing bad happened and everybody straggled back happy to be home again.

The chief sent his wife on a hard day’s hike to take the head-on-the stick as far away as possible and bury it.

She tugged the thing off its perch by the hair and slowly trudged off dragging the head in the dirt behind her.

She gave her husband a dirty look as she shuffled by, but he looked the other way pretending he hadn’t noticed.

He learned long ago it was impossible to keep her happy.

When the second head-on-a-stick showed up a few days later, it didn’t have the same jounce as the first one.

The holy man tried to whip up the same disquietude he’d enjoyed with the first head-on-a-stick.

Everyone went about their business and ignored his pleas.

But this time things really did go bad, and the holy man didn’t bother to hide his delight.

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A Brief Satirical History of ‘Racism is Prejudice Plus Power’

A Brief Satirical History of ‘Racism is Prejudice Plus Power’

The prejudice plus power thesis says that if you don’t belong to a racially privileged group, you can’t be racist.
Racism, by definition, is something only the racially privileged are capable of.
Racism by under-privileged groups doesn’t count, because it isn’t real racism.
(See my Wallace Runnymede novel ‘The Great Flaneur Narrative’ for a humorous send-off of this notion, among other satirical delights).
It seems, however, that this is nothing new under the sun. Continue Reading

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Cheney’s Hoover Memorial Lecture: ‘We Must Stand Firm Against Paranoid Belligerent Autocrats of Pyongyang’ (2/2)

Cheney’s Hoover Memorial Lecture: ‘We Must Stand Firm Against Paranoid Belligerent Autocrats of Pyongyang’ (2/2)

This is the tail end of Richard ‘Clever Dick’ Cheney’s speech from last time. Continue Reading

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Cheney’s Hoover Memorial Lecture: ‘We Must Stand Firm Against Paranoid Belligerent Autocrats of Pyongyang’ (1/2)

Cheney’s Hoover Memorial Lecture: ‘We Must Stand Firm Against Paranoid Belligerent Autocrats of Pyongyang’ (1/2)

Dick Cheney has recently conducted the annual Edgar J. Hoover Memorial Lecture at the Hoover Institute; a notable think tank renowned, among other things, for its publications on foreign policy.

Cheney’s speech had a rather mixed reception; however, his discussion was certainly provocative. Here is a brief excerpt, entitled:

Stand Firm Against Those Who Defile the Honorable Name of Freedom Continue Reading

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Sneezing is One Tenth of an Orgasm: Islamic State Make War on Moldy Houses

Sneezing is One Tenth of an Orgasm: Islamic State Make War on Moldy Houses

ISIS and dodgy landlords.
One is an evil gang of nefarious gangsters and mafiosi, who give zero fucks about anyone else, and will trample over anyone in their day, doing whatever it takes to expand their evil empire.
The other one is an Islamic terrorist organization!
Still, it turns out that the freewheeling, freeriding anarcho-capitalist idealists and rugged individualists, er, Unitarians, are not at all satisfied with their radical Marxist housing policy of forcibly de-gentrifying the ancient Syrian metropolis of Palmyra. Continue Reading

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Author of “How to Be A Success” Guides Dies a Dismal Failure

Author of “How to Be A Success” Guides Dies a Dismal Failure

And I’m here to help!

Kilroy Kovacs, prolific publisher of the popular “How to Be a Success” guides, has been found dead in his car outside of Peculiar, Missouri. Cause of death has not been determined.

Kovacs was the author of two dozen “How to Be a Success” books and published in thirteen countries. Sales are estimated at between 5000 and 6000 volumes worldwide, including complimentary and bootleg copies. Continue Reading

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Man Unable to Apply a Lifetime’s Research into Self-Improvement, Dies Wholly Unsuccessful in Life

Man Unable to Apply a Lifetime’s Research into Self-Improvement, Dies Wholly Unsuccessful in Life

Dateline: NEW YORK CITY—A connoisseur of self-help books has died alone and impoverished after having spent years locked in his apartment, practicing to be a better person.

Albert Dunderhead had an impressive collection of self-help manuals, as attested by the landlord who found Albert’s body. “Albert once showed me his library,” said the landlord, “and he boasted he was learning everything there is to know about techniques for increasing your confidence, winning friends and succeeding in business and romance.

“‘One day,’ Albert told me, ‘I’ll have learned enough to put my knowledge into practice, to apply the lessons in real life. And then nothing will stop me. I’ll finally have a job and a family and a life I can be proud of. Until then, I’ve got to keep hitting the books.’”

Albert’s body was found in front of a mirror, his hand on an open book turned to a passage about mastering your fears by reciting mantras in front of a mirror.

Having no friends or family, living on a small inheritance from his grandmother, Albert ventured out of his apartment only to purchase groceries and to peruse the self-help section of bookstores.

Albert’s neighbours sometimes complained about the noise from his apartment, when Albert practiced his lessons by holding conversations with imaginary employers, coworkers, and romantic prospects.

“The conversations went on for hours on end,” said one neighbour, “but it wasn’t the volume that bothered me so much as the annoying repetition. He tried out every conceivable variation on a job interview, for example, playing both parts himself.

“Or he’d imagine he was trying to pick up a girl at a grocery store, and he’d say, ‘I see you’re interested in avocados.’ ‘Why, yes I am,’ he’d say in response. And then he’d launch into a disquisition about the merits of different recipes for guacamole.

“But that wasn’t the end of it—not by a long shot. He’d carry on the same conversation over and over again, but switching from avocados to bananas, and then to spinach and watermelons and every other fruit or vegetable in turn. It was really, really annoying having to hear that blather through the wall throughout the evening and night.”

Albert received a posthumous award for “Most Ironic Life” from the Irony Association of America.

“Ironically,” said the Association’s founder, “our awards have no cash value, nor do we publicize them. Had Mr. Dunderhead been alive, he wouldn’t have been eligible for the award, since his life would have been ongoing. But even if he would have been eligible, he wouldn’t have known he’d won, because no one would have told him. And even if he found out about us and our awards, he may not have cared, because, as I said, our awards have zero prestige. There’s nothing to them, not even a little statue or anything.

“All we do is whisper about the winner for a while, maybe writing up a certificate and then quickly burning it so as not to spoil the irony of the self-effacing honours.”

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(Memes) We Have to Do Something to Accommodate the Male Community: What do They Really Want?

(Memes) We Have to Do Something to Accommodate the Male Community: What do They Really Want?

Next time you see a man defending rape/warmongering/niqab/pimping/porn/religious extremism of ANY kind, remind him that he belongs to the ‘Male Community,’ and ask him how his safe space is going.
If men start getting referred to via patronizing faux-leftie metropolitan jargon and soundbites, they might learn to shut their traps a little! Continue Reading

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Jihadist Anti-Jokes

Jihadist Anti-Jokes

Sinners of the World Unite!

A Jew, and Christian and an atheist walk into a bar.

How devious are the wiles of Satan, that all kafrs can agree that alcohol is permissible!

Wasting Your Time

A priest, a rabbi and a Buddhist monk are playing golf.

How saddening it is, that the debauched and depraved people of the book cannot understand that the pleasures of this world are fleeting, and the world to come is forever!

Whores Must Perish

Knock knock.

Who’s there?

Fatima.

Fatima? What is your mahram doing, are they not with you?

Nah.

Remember to bring your mahram with you. I do not consort with unaccompanied, impious specimens of the female community.

Playing Chicken is Mere Idleness

Why did the chicken cross the road?

Truly, the will of Allah is inscrutable. Better not to ask such idle questions concerning the wonders of his creation. Prayer is superior to the idleness of unenlightened curiosity.

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Secular & Spiritual… Why the Furore, and False Dilemma?

Secular & Spiritual… Why the Furore, and False Dilemma?

There is a notion going about that people who are robustly secularist, politically speaking, are automatically anti-religion.

But ‘religion’ means different things to different people.
People can draw spiritual inspiration and strength from religious traditions without believing they are literal fact.
I would like to see more organized collaboration between people who are secular for the outer world and spiritual for the inner life.
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(Meme): Westboro Baptist Church, America’s Most Flamboyant Social Justice Warriors?

(Meme): Westboro Baptist Church, America’s Most Flamboyant Social Justice Warriors?

Westboro Baptist Church LOVED identity politics…
Especially of the heterosexual kind!
They were easily triggered by men holding hands, and wanted to turn their ‘doomed nation’ and ‘damned planet’ into a safe space.
What’s not to SJ about that?!

Continue Reading

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The Soviet Union Could Have Been Saved: SJW Fail?

The Soviet Union Could Have Been Saved: SJW Fail?

The Soviet Union would actually have survived, if only they could have become Soviet Justice Warriors!

Some key hashtags for Soviet Twitter:

#NotAllCommies

#CommunismIsTheTotalitarianismOfPeace

#StopBeingMarxophobic Continue Reading

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