William F. Buckley

"William Francis Buckley was born in Manhattan on Nov. 24, 1925, the sixth of the 10 children of Aloise Steiner Buckley and William Frank Buckley. His parents had intended to name him after his father, but the priest who christened him insisted on a saint’s name, so Francis was chosen." From today's NY times.


Yup, that's right, Buckley's parents were good Catholics who LET THEIR PRIEST TELL THEM WHAT TO NAME THEIR OWN FUCKING SON.



It does reveal quite a hell of a lot, doesn't it? I mean here we have a boy who could have accepted the fact that he was spawned from voluntary slaves; or he could have spent his life trying to destroy that portion of society which doesn't live on its knees.

And no good Catholic boy goes against his parents.

Fuck the church.

What was I talking about?

English Lesson of the Day

"Mad as a March Hare", a phrase common in the early 20th century in reference to one who is particularly eccentric or unstable, refers to the Southwestern Desert March Hare, known for its tendency to drink twice its weight in fortified wine, call its ex-girlfriend to blame her for its personal failures, and threaten suicide if she doesn't come back.

Boy Scouts

I've been thinking of the Boy Scouts refusal to allow homosexuals in their ranks lately. I'm not sure why, but I think it's the similarity to Catholicism, the inherent contradiction of an institution that is both authoritarian and homophobic.

Because look, I know I'm beating a Mr. Heartland horse here, but if you think that respect for authority and reverence for tradition are good and necessary things that must be taught to children; you're probably gay. One cannot love a great father without, at some point in life, having loved a big daddy.

Robert-Baden Powell, the British war hero who founded the Scouts, was known to take photos of his early charges while they swam in the nude. When he was 55 he married a girl of 23 named Olive St. Clair Soames who kept her hair short and enjoyed wearing military-style uniforms. The psychological pain Powell suffered as a result of their close-eyed, as-many-clothes-kept-on-as-possible sex caused him serious health problems until the couple had produced sufficient heirs and he was able to take a separate bedroom.

I just thought I'd mention.

There's a movement about to legally force the Boy Scouts to accept homosexuals, and while this is well-meaning, the fact is that sexual repression and denial are the essential pillars of scouting and that the organization would cease to be without them.

So no, I can't support the movement to integrate the Scouts. What I will do is strongly advise you against signing your children on to this cute little fascist dress-up game and promise myself that no theoretical child of mine will ever be a poor deluded Boy Scout.

I'd rather see my son as an alter boy. At least then he can get raped indoors, with running water and all of the comforts of modern civilization.

I had a Friend Once

Who insisted that Steve Winwood's "Give me Some Lovin" was about running a drug house based on the lines "but you better take it easy/this place is hot."

He's in the pen now.

Some Quick thoughts on Mrs. Obama

I myself am not proud of America. For this I make no apologies. I have the same instinctive love for my home that everyone else has but I feel no need to sanctify it. We do not love our country because we believe it is good any more than we love our families because we believe it is good. We love these things because we love ourselves, that is all. There is no nobility to it nor is there any need for nobility. I believe that I have some moral obligation to leave the society I was born into better off when I leave it, but I firmly disagree with the idea that it is necessary for me to believe that I am working on behalf of an inherently good society in order to inspire myself to do so.

Let's be very clear. Those who believe that pride is inherently good are moral cowards and emotional weaklings. If you are unable to act for the common good without the stimulant of pride, that is your problem. Do not assume that the rest of humanity shares it.

The talk-radio knuckleheads are of course taking Michelle Obnama's quote and running with it. Hannity, O'Reilly, and et. al. will usually take a minute to say of course this country isn't perfect but.... and than the predictible claptrap about how it is impossible to criticize society without directly insulting each individual therein, (Especially, of course, the respectible, mainstream families of America's suburbs.) and how a failure to take pride in the nation is to reject the polio vaccine, the defeat of Hitler, the moon landing, the internet, the fall of the Berlin wall, etc.

Pride has never been the solution to any problem, and never will be. The only way problems get solved is to focus on what is wrong with us, to embrace the muck in utter defiance of that old closeted psychopath Teddy Roosevelt.

I'm Josh Beran. I am not proud to be an American, and you all can eat my dick.

John Stuart Mill Knew his Shit

"Conservatives are not necessarily stupid, but most stupid people are conservatives."
JSM

Conservatives will often try to pass themselves off as the true populists due to the mean ivory-tower liberals who use big words like "rhetorical fallacy" or "willfully obtuse." Liberals are often derided for our apparent scorn of the "common people*" out of touch with the "real America*"

* Please note that the "real America" is restricted to settlements of fewer than 100,000 people and their environs, while the honorific "common people"is restricted to high-school educated substance level workers (WHITE!/oh shush you) who begin producing multiple children in their teens and early twenties. Please note that approximately three-fourths of the American population are ineligible to be either common people or part of the real America.

Part of this contempt for simple thinkers is nothing but snobbery, and I am as guilty of that as many others. But is this contempt completely unjustified? Are we to accept the more amusing conservative beliefs as valid simply because they are honestly and sincerely felt? More to the point, are liberals justified in considering ourselves smarter than conservatives? This is not for me to say. I can not give an unbiased judgment on the matter, and in all likelihood neither can anyone else. All I can do is point out the following.

* If you honestly believe that their was no crystal meth problem in the Midwest before the Mexicans came, you are probably a conservative.

* If you also believe that said Mexicans (Yes yes, you have nothing against LEGAL immigrants, nobody's buying it.) are nothing but a horde of leprosy-addled pedophiles in league with Al-Quida, Fidel Castro, and Magua, you are probably a conservative.

* If you think having to press 1 for English is an unprecedented corruption of cultural purity, you are probably a conservative; and you seriiiiousssly need to get out and see a city larger than Lincoln or Omaha.

* But only if you are able to do so without being so terrified of the teeming hordes or rapists, murderers, and junkies known to inhabit the big city that you are unable to notice or appreciate anything. If this proves too much for you, you are almost certainly a conservative.

* If you believe that global warming is nothing but a massive conspiracy involving the entire scientific and academic worlds to take away your automopenis, you are probably a conservative.

* If you believe that, since World War II was justified, every war the U.S. chooses to fight forevermore magically becomes World War II, you are probably a conservative.

* If you think that the East Coast is being rent asunder by roving gangs of pink-pistol bearing Lesbians, you are probably a conservative.

* Yes I know, we all wish it were true.

* If you think that anyone wearing a T-shirt bearing an Arabic phrase should be kicked off a plane; since we all know that Arabic is a language composed of nothing but terrorist threats, with no words for things like "tree", "sunlight", "house" or "lunch" (To say these things the Arab must revert to a degraded form of English, the true language of God) you are probably a conservative.

* The actual language of God is of course Latin. But then if you're able to read at all you certainly already knew this.

*If you think that Christmas would be utterly ruined by the removal of the three-dollar, blow-job-faced angels surrounding the courthouse wall, you are probably a conservative.

*Indeed, if you believe in an emotionally weak God who would be utterly shattered without the official approval of your government; definitely a conservative.

* Remember the old Pentagon story about Pat Tillman single-handedly holding off the Taliban for two hours before he ran out of ammunition? If you saw nothing funny about this story, if you honestly believe that one American has the strength of fifty foreigners and that our military is composed of a million pocket Roland's, you are probably a conservative.

* If you still don't know that Tillman was a Chomsky-admiring atheist who opposed the Iraq War, you are almost certainly a conservative.

* If you think that a tax hike (on anything, for any reason, ever) is a bigger threat to your liberty than making social pariahs and bogeymen out of those who question authority, you are probably a conservative.

* If you think that would-be dictators are obsessed with taking your guns; when they have in fact removed any need for doing so by taking your brain, you are probably a conservative.

* If you know nothing about the nation of France beyond their recent losing streak to the Germans, (Such as why elitist, freedom-hating Americans tend to move there whenever your ilk take over) you are probably a conservative.

* If you think that Ted Nugent has been able to achieve an erection at any point in the past thirty-five years, you are probably a conservative.

* If you think that a country-music singer who loves Jesus and America to the point of conflating the two is a "rebel" for drinking himself to death, you are probably a conservative.

* If you think that Hillary Clinton is a two-faced, loud-mouthed bulldyke bitch-cunt; but you have no problem with powerful women and don't-I-dare say you do, you are probably a conservative.

* If you think that Barrack Obama is secretly a Muslim, or if you ever believed that baby-sacrificing Satanic pedophiles were running loose in your town, you are probably a conservative. (Seriously, you're in church eight times a week, you should have some idea how hard it would be to secretly practice a religion.)

* If you have ever even considered taking John Wayne seriously, at all, well enough for now.

You see what I'm getting at here. It's not that there aren't left-wingers who believe dumb things. I'll grant you the 9-11 truthers and the Kennedy conspiracy theorists. (Though, in all honesty, the JFK theories aren't all that stupid until you get into shot by the driver without anyone noticing/secret Freemason ritual territory, and this is really politically neutral lunacy isn't it?) It's just that there aren't nearly so many stupid beliefs that are considered acceptable within the liberal mainstream. The logical leap that the conservative must make in order to believe himself both divinely-ordained master of the universe and terribly put-upon victim is truly sublime. I have a powerful lust for the day when we can vote these knuckleheads out of power. Than we won't have to worry about having the nation's nuclear arsenal in the hands of children and we can all sit back and laugh at the joke that American conservatism has become.

Valentine's Day.

My last girlfriend got angry when she told me not to buy her anything for Valentine's day and I did anyway.

The one before that got angry when she told me not to buy her anything for Valentine's Day and I took her at her word.

It's a terribly strange pretense for a holiday. Romantic relationships are not inherently good, nor are they necessarily of any benefit to society at large. The idea that "having somebody" is more likely to lead to happiness than remaining single is Puritanism, nothing more. At any rate, couples do have their own personal anniversary's. It's very much like having a personal birthday for one self and than having a big public "Life Day" or some such nonsense.

To sum things up as politely as possible; a woman who takes Valentine's Day seriously is a bigger turnoff than AIDS.

Interstate Batteries Presents Lent

Don's know how old this is, it's still first-time funny for me.

400th post

You chose to dance with the tyranny of deserve, and now you blame me, if it's gratitude you seek children, seek not to be a master.

Anthony Torrango

Anthony, my childhood best friend, died of alcohol poisoning in Norfolk last week, just two days before I myself got noticibly more intoxicated than I had planned to at a party.

I was planning on telling people about this incident, but didn't know exactly what to say. Now, I really have no idea what to think.

Jessica Bronson-McBush

This is Jessica Bronson-McBush, second cousin to and last surviving female relative of Charles Bronson.

She was born to Stevie and Wanda Bronson on March 6th 1975 just six weeks before her mother was bludgeoned and sodomized to death by a gang of Puerto Rican coke dealers. When her father weakly suggested that the matter be left to the police she was sent to be raised by her older cousin Charles, who quickly avenged her mother by ritualistically slaughtering ninety-seven Gotham street urchins in forty-eight hours.

Jessica suffered a rough childhood. Besides burying her sisters, grandmother, and female cousins after horrifying ends, she was also kidnapped no fewer than twelve times before the age of seven. It was during the last of these incidents when Jessica first tasted human blood for herself, stabbing a Cubo-soviet-Black nationalist death agent in the back after cousin Charles had dispatched her other three dozen tormentors with a Kalashnikov.

Jessica attended Our Lady of the Sorrows High School in White Plains,New York from 1989-1993, narrowly avoiding a brutal rape at the hands of her first boyfriend, "Edger Jennings", who turned out to secretly be Jose Pelligro, illegitimate grandchild of Manuel Noriega. After high school, Jessica attended Wellesley college, graduating with a Bachlor's in textile design despite witnessing the slaughter of her entire sorority house by a crack-addled two-bit thief released from prison early by a bleeding-heart judge.

It was in college that Jessica met Trevor McBush; famed professor of chemistry at UMass and distant relative of the Kennedy's. Despite being twenty years younger than Dr. McBush, the couple became romantically involved and married in the spring of 1996. Her venerable old cousin Charles arrainged a great sacrifice for the wedding, dispatching of thirty-eight terrorists, sixty-five known communists, and legions of undifferentiated street punks. Why Jessica married someone so much older than her is easy to see; the girl had had a strong figure all of her life, and though his death-phallus was as virile as ever, it was clear that old cousin Charles had entered his sunset days.

The couple moved to a Boston flat after Jessica's graduation, where tragedy soon befell them. Jessica and her unborn daughter were raped simultaneously by one Tyrone Afrika, who had just had a grand-theft-auto charge thrown out on a technicality, in April of 1998. The fetus soon died of the abuse, and the McBush marriage nearly fell apart at the seems. Old cousin Charles had warned Trevor against moving his bride to the inner city, where the average life-span of a white woman is just under three days.

The birth of two more daughters brought the hope that Jessica could put her tragic past behind her, but she and her husband were forced to watch at gunpoint as illegal immigrants devoured them alive in June of 2000. The sight of her husband helpless, weeping, and wetting herself made their eventual divorce inevitable. Cousin Charles, now in his eighties and in failing health, was able only to slaughter those directly responsible, and did not have the strength to bring The Great Clensing that formally came with such outrages.

But despair not good reader, for before Jessica sent Trevor simpering back to his flaccid ivory tower he somehow managed to impregnate her with a son, who naturally took the name Charles. The boy was born in August of 2003 just as his legendary third cousin took to his deathbed. The newborn boy, with his sixteen-pound frame, exquisitely-developed manhood, and bearing the same steely gaze as his namesake , was clearly destined to be his heir, and so after barely a day of convalescence, Jessica willed herself out of her birthing bed, battled her way through the hospital staff to grab her child, who roared triumphantly with the knowledge that he was to begin to fulfill his destiny, and together mother walked out the door and drove through the night to be at the side of dying Justice Incarnate.

When they came to old cousin Charles' hospital room they found him breathing laboriously surrounded by six dead gang-bangers. Though old Bronson's eyes were already growing cloudy with death, they immediately glowed with their old fire at the sight of his namesake infant; yay, as much his son as if he had been spawned from his own loins. He bade Jessica bring the boy to him and she rapturously obeyed. Upon being held by the Great Old One, the boy let out such a piercing coo that twelve virgin lads at a nearby orphanage were struck dead by the concussive shock.

With the last of his strength, the Great Old One Charles took the severed head of one of the street-toughs and fed the blood from the dangling veins into the infant's mouth. "I dub thee Vengence" said The Old One, and with this, his face became determined, a great, contented sigh emanated from his throat, hailstones the size of lepers began to fall from the sky outside, and the Old One was no more. His mission completed, his deathly continuance victorious.

So who than can doubt the chain of events that came with the rape and murder of New Charles Bronson's preschool sweetheart, Victoria-Mae Sanctimonia? Oh how the rivers of blood did flow as the young boy took up his 44. magnum, and did exterminate both the criminals and their blood relations entire; yay, down to the fifth cousins and their adopted nephews. And how his mother did weep with pride that day, knowing that her life's destiny was fulfilled.

And how shall his mother, you may ask, spend her middle age? In all likelihood, of course, she will not. already she has been abducted six and raped seventeen times since the death of old Charles; and oh how terrible was the justice of her son. Yet whether Jessica is buried alive, sold into white slavery by Arab devils, or savaged by bull and leopard like old St. Marciana is of no consequence. She is our lady, the mother of our savior, and Jessica Bronson shall be remembered through the dying screams of the wicked ones until the end of days.

Juno

Unfailingly cute, at times too much so. But it still creates the oddest desire for a pregnant teenaged daughter. I recommend it.

Harvey Keitel

I don't know if I've blogged about this before;I've certainly talked about it, but I'm afraid that it's a significant moment in my life, and I must keep referring to it.

I was watching TV at my parent's house late one night two Christmases ago. The "Bonnie Situation" scene of "Pulp Fiction" was playing on Cinemax at the same time that "Bad Lieutenant" was playing on IFC.

And there was Harvey Keitel, saving the day as the ultra-smooth "Wolf" in California while his parallel self swayed a mournful dance of crack-induced impotence in some Manhattan hovel.

One man become the totality of human experience, the glory and the gutter. Stunning.

You remember PCU? That guy who was trying to prove that there was always a movie with either Michael Caine of Gene Hackman playing on TV?

Well, ever since the big movie channels expanded into various genre-channels, I have discovered that one can find "Pulp Fiction", "Scarface", or "The Neverending Story" playing at four in the morning every morning somewhere on extended cable.

Try it for yourself.

Kimball County Cops rob Utah Man, Brag about it.

"File photo of the Kimball County Sheriff's Department."

http://www.omaha.com/index.php?u_pag...u_sid=10231335

Now, did this man get his $69,000 dollars doing something illegal? Probably, and I'm sure this matters a great deal to those who enjoy having Daddy hold them in his arms and tell them that everything is going to be alright. I personally have a laissez-faire view of the black market and couldn't care less how he earned his money. What bothers me are the archaic government entities along the I-80 corridor that support themselves by sucking up millions of tax dollars as part of some anti/meth/anti-drugs-in-general/anti illegal immigrant etc. crusade and then suck on the public teet some more to pay for the cost of jailing perfectly responsible smugglers. Counties that don't have a large enough tax base to support themselves and have to rely on trolling the roads for outsiders who have "suspicious money" available for the taking should not exist, and if there were any justice in this world this Utah fellow would come back with an Ivy League lawyer and a lawsuit and ruin those highway thugs from Kimball.

This is for John Wenz

Ronald Reagan


Bow to dementia messiah.

Strange Thing

I've had what might be called "chick music" in my head all day, specifically my mother's music; Fleetwood Mac, Carole King, Carly Simon, et al.

I cleaned my apartment today, and I think that might have been what set it off; This hopelessly effeminate act of preventing oneself from getting sick off of one's own filth.

But this is not a complaint, I actually like the female singer-songwriters from the seventies, I like their groove, I like their aesthetic, perfectly pleasant music for when your driving through the sticks with a busted CD player and have to rely on local radio.

The subject of "You're so Vain" is Warren Beatty. All reasonably intelligent people know this.

Pimpin ain't easy

Be generous with the collection plate, God rewards all good deeds.

You wannna take him out? He's taking the whole fucking building with him

Term limits can't touch this son.

If You Really Care About the Victims

You will consume as they consumed.

Driving Home Yesterday

My father, Dennis Lyons, spoke of his days as a deputy sheriff in Oregon. To be specific, he told me of the incidents in which he slaughtered people as part of his duties as a deputy sheriff in Oregon.

In 1971, a group of liquor-store robbers in Bend Oregon had taken hostages after being cornered by police. My father helped to diffuse the situation by shooting the head negotiator five times in the chest and neck. After this failed to knock the robber down, my father shot him in the head.

"He was so jacked up on PCP he didn't even notice. They say I scrambled his brains so bad there was no way he could get up. But he was still twitching when the coroner showed up. He still had that energy. They used to give that shit to the North Vietnamese. Not the regulars but, the, you know, the Cong. I remember shooting Cong straight in the heart, and the blood was spirting out five feet in front of them, and they just kept loading their rifles."

A few months before this the Bend area was apparently plagued by the so-called Bible Bandits. The bandits would walk into a gas station, lead the clerk to a backroom at gunpoint, make him get on his knees, lay a bible at his feet, and shoot him in the back of the head.

My father went undercover in a local service station armed with a .357 Magnum. The bible bandits came after a few days. One went in to rob the station and kill my father while the other stayed at the ready in the getaway car. After being led to the back room by the bandit, my father surprised him by pulling his Magnum out of his coat and pointing it at the assailant.

"I told him not to make another move if he wanted to see the next thirty seconds. He raised his gun-hand but he never had it pointed at me. I lifted my hand and shot him through the left temple.It came out through the right-rear and covered the wall behind him. I went outside and caught his partner from behind. I held the barrel against his head and told him the same thing I had told the other one. Now you may not believe this but having a gun pointed at your head will scare the piss out of you. This guy pissed all over himself, the barrel was warm and he knew I had just used the the thing on his partner."

Now, I have no way of knowing that any of this is true besides my father's say-so. There are parts of his story that seem more than a little incredible. Still, I believe him. The way he grows about being investigated after these incidents, simply because he had killed his fellow man, is something he would do.

"I would be walking around with Kathy (his late wife) and your sister, and people would come up to me and say, "Hey, you killed the Bible Bandits." It felt kind of weird you know?"

My father was involved in an accident at his job several months ago and currently lives on worker's comp. He is bored. He watches television, plays solitaire on a computer he doesn't know how to use, eats and sleeps. His old rants about how all murderers/child molesters/terrorists/home invaders/car thieves must be executed have grown more frequent and convoluted. He sold the last gun he had eight years ago when his shoulder became too sore to use it. Still he fantasizes; that's the only word for it, about an intruder coming into the house so that he will have the opportunity to manfully spill blood in defense of his flock.

And that's why I think the stories he told me yesterday are so important. This is a man who killed criminals in defense of the relatively innocent, and he demands to be considered a hero for it without qualification. My father is not a monstrous man, he is clearly haunted by the fact that he is taken human life; but it is precisely because he is haunted that he refuses to accept the second half of the phrase "necessary evil."

My mother likes to spend her days off watching that true-crime trash one finds on Court TV or A&E. There was something about the Menendez brothers on yesterday morning. I spent the time loading the car with my things while wondering why the murder of two wealthy southern Californians drew national media attention while the murder of a prostitute, or the "natural" death of a widow who had no one to talk to for the last year of her life, is noticed by no one.

The show's narrator, some hack "true-crime" novelist named Dominic Donne, said that the Menendez brothers were behind bars "where they belonged." "No" said my father, "they deserve the same fate as their parents."


And so, of course, shall they receive this fate, along with all the rest of us. My father was not the least bit curious as to why he should know the details of the deaths of two total strangers on the other side of the country twelve years ago. He does not question why a single sexual assult of a child somewhere in Montana or what have you should be breathlessly reported by cable news for six days.

"there may be responsible persons, but there are no guilty ones" - Camus

This I firmly believe. Death and suffering at the hands of another human being is, to me, nothing but one more unfortunate possibility out of many. There are actions, murder, rape, etc. that I consider evil, but to hear somebody say that they "believe" in evil is, to me, the same thing as hearing one speak of one's belief in water or brick walls. Evil is nothing but a specific action that causes a fellow human being great harm, there is nor metaphysical force behind it, nothing to "believe" in.

My father must believe that the metaphysical force is there. He must believe that one death by murder is more significant than twelve deaths by cancer. Murder is an opportunity to teach others that murder is wrong. For he has blood on his hands, and to live, he must believe that the corruption of the blood can be cured through spilling it.