~ Thank You WHATFINGER NEWS for the Linkage! ~
Tuesday, April 28, 2020
Democrat Rep. Opening Up Selected Businesses is Racist
Today's episode of Democrat Moonbattery:
Just when you think you have heard it all, lo'and behold along comes a whirlwind of stupid and the morons start falling out of the trees. Such was the case at a Biden campaign virtual town hall. I give you a Democrat Member of the US House of Representatives, Marsha Fudge:
I Guess the illustrious Congresswoman is unaware of this ongoing activity?
You simple cannot win with these people. If black democrats weren’t able to focus through a lens of race for every single thing they discuss, they wouldn’t be able to say anything at all. They perpetuate the hate that consumes the soul. And these are the Biden base supporters he cannot win without.
Just when you think you have heard it all, lo'and behold along comes a whirlwind of stupid and the morons start falling out of the trees. Such was the case at a Biden campaign virtual town hall. I give you a Democrat Member of the US House of Representatives, Marsha Fudge:
In a Biden virtual town hall, @RepMarciaFudge says governors are only opening businesses where black people might get Covid19, not "country clubs and tanning spas" pic.twitter.com/qJbzJ1rT4u— Tom Elliott (@tomselliott) April 27, 2020
— Spider-Ken (@SpiderKenX) April 28, 2020
It's a well known fact that whites don't get haircuts, do their nails, go to the gym, or eat in restaurants. It's science, amirite?— Max Diesel Incognito Mode (@MaxDieselRI) April 27, 2020
Monday, April 27, 2020
The Liberal Media Intelligentsia Self Protection Club
If you listened to all the 'Very Smart People' in the Washington press corps over the last few weeks whinging about how this time Trump had crashed and burned once and for all, that he is broken and beyond salvation and his Presidency is all but over, I'm guessing you're not buying and probably think otherwise. And they don't care. They don't have to be right.
In the game of professional punditry there clearly exists a special set of rules designed for one sort of person: Liberal's parade of bomb-throwing, hate-mongering, race-baiting bottom feeders. That breed which makes their daily bread from grifting the leftist soft skulls by generating an endless flood of books, magazine articles, broadcasts, speeches and videos all telling the soft skull liberal base over and over again that their bigotries are noble and their paranoia is real. Of course, part of the downside of wallowing in the wingnut sewer and trafficking in slander and lies is that, sooner or later, you become a toxic mess.
Your stink becomes unacceptable to the general public, which is where the Sunday morning talk shows -- the Mouse Circus -- comes in. Because despite having long ago devolved into a sinkhole of Beltway twaddle, it is still viewed by altogether too many people as a bastion of Very Serious people. It's the strip-mall of political opinion where casual shoppers go to feel smart and validated.
And so a bargain is struck; the bottom feeders deliver a temporary hike in the only thing these show's owners really care about -- audience share -- and, in exchange for being teevee friendly and keeping the worst of their batshit crazy on a leash for a few minutes, their Mouse Circus deburrs the bottom feeders' public image, replates and burnishes their credibility and temporarily transfuses them with Seriousness, which can then be redeemed at ten times its face value back among the soft skulls.
And in the key to that bargain we will now call "The Biden Rule": an agreement that the moderator will never, ever ask the bomb-thrower, the hate-monger or the race-baiting goon sitting directly across from them a single question about their bomb-throwing, hate-mongering or race-baiting activities. Instead they will be represented to the public merely as a liberal / Never-Trumper commentator or talk radio host or pundit who, at worst, might be known for some "controversial" opinions, which the moderator will never bothers to explicate.
Obvious rapacious hucksters like Al Sharpton find a safe and nurturing environment within the American political media for the same reason that clowns and flakes and demagogues like Never-Tumpers Rick Wilson and Jennifer Rubin, and anti-trump race baiters like MSNBC Nutty Negress Joy Reid and NPR's Yamiche Alcindor prosper within the same media midden pile because they are needed for the media to keep their Sunday freak shows running.
I'd say there's a revolving door between naked political pimping and network punditing, but as the case of the NYT's Paul Krugman amply demonstrates, there is no door at all anymore. If you pay any attention at all to the Beltway Media Club you will not fail to quickly notice that their highest priority is the mutual defense and protection of fellow Club members. No matter how many times they publicly shit the bed they can always rely on the likes of Chuck Tard of 'Meet the Press' or 'This Week with Georgie Stephanopoulos', to hose them down, fluff them up and sit them down in front of the camera for their newest rehabilitation session. The Beltway Fixers will always, always, always fish bottom-feeding ghouls out of the gutter, hose them off and put them back in front of a camera.
Sunday, April 26, 2020
Lysol Injections and UV Enemas...
"Collective fear stimulates the herd mentality, and tends to produce ferocity towards those who are not regarded as members of the herd. " -- Bertrand Russell
Excerpts from a longer essay by our friend
Matthew Noto @My planet, My Rules
We've reached Peak Fucktard. I thought we had achieved this ignominious goal several times before -- the elevation of an Affirmative Action hire to the Presidency; handing out mortgages to people who couldn't pay them back; the destruction of the Western University as a beacon of enlightenment; the elevation of the Kardashians to billionaire status -- but I have obviously been mistaken. No, it took a most-unusual combination of unforeseen factors to bring every last fucktarded waste of gametes out from the closets. Plague, economic ruin, politics, a media-induced panic, have all combined to ensure that the Human Race, particularly the American Breed, could take collective leave of their feeble senses to such an extent as to make one weep for the future of Humanity as a whole.
Mind you, half (at least) of the human race was a disease unto itself, and something akin to herd animals. The behavior of this particular Herd made it abundantly clear that civilization stood upon a knife edge, seeing as it was the half that expected all the rewards of civilization without having to contribute anything of value towards it's continuation. They simply multiplied, made enough noises to make their shepherds attentive to their basest emotions -- discontent, anger, moron, jealousy, fear, a pretense to self-esteem founded largely upon the lack of esteem of the self -- to respond in some fashion. Usually a fashion that was intended to shut the herd up while the shepherd went back to planning how to profit from the fleecing to come.
And the Herd had learned that if you make enough noise, you get something for it. Perhaps not exactly what you wanted, but a close approximation of it, from the shepherd. The shepherd simply tossed out goodies -- the herd cared not whence they came -- and it was better than nothing. Mostly because "better" meant the herd would have to take action of it's own accord, and being sheep, discovering they lacked the collective brainpower and motivation to do little more than graze and make an occasional noise. No, the Herd was a good, comfortable thing. The shepherd, even if he shaved your ass every spring to take your wool and occasionally ate one of your comrades or children, at least could be counted upon to react to your noises. To show initiative, intelligence, ambition, even common sense, was to imply that there was something wrong with the Herd, and the Herd is always touchy and seeking slights, real or imagined, so as to justify more noise and more attention from the shepherds.
And then came the scourge of the Flu Manchu.
The Herd Mentality took over. Suddenly, the Herd was unsafe going about it usual business of aimlessly roaming the pastures. The Herd was now under attack from a force the shepherds could not overcome by simply reacting to mere noise and mollifying same with some shiny object or lofty promise. The sheep became terrified. If the shepherds couldn't understand what was happening, and the supply of shiny-objects-for-noise suddenly dried up, then what was the Herd to do?
The only thing the shepherds -- guided by people they refer to as "experts" whose claim to expertise is highly questionable -- could think to do was to shove the Herd into the barn, where it came into contact with other Herds similarly imprisoned by their shepherds, herders, and tenders. That barn got pretty crowded very quickly. Some sheep didn't make it in and succumbed to the Asian Snot Storm, which made the sheep sad, since they all believed they were going to live forever -- because they made the noise that said they should, and the Shepherd reacted by destroying the veterinary system they would depend upon in an act of Social Justice -- and this was a tragedy.
And it gave the sheep, perhaps for the first time in their lives, a sense of their own mortality; and this was, like, unfair...and stuff. The Sheep expected to survive, because someone else had studied to be a vet, and someone else had built the veterinary hospital, and someone else had been expected to pick up the tab when the sheep fell ill, and the shepherd had promised eternal life at someone else's expense. Someone the sheep referred to as "a deplorable", but whom they had never seen, having never ventured far from the Herd. But the Shepherd insisted they existed and the sheep always believed the shepherd, even when they couldn't understand what he was talking about. Because new shiny object arrived before the perturbation coalesced around understanding.
The Herd began to doubt. The Shepherd was no longer believed. He couldn't be believed, for the reality the Sheep had now experienced -- vicariously, on television -- did not match the fantasy the Shepherd had constructed, and even sheep -- stupid, unthinking, unmotivated, easily-silenced-by-promises sheep -- had to notice. And so they looked to someone else for leadership.
Even though the Herd had been trained from it's earliest stages to regard The Orange Ranchero with little more than reflexive disgust and fear of imminent fascism (the sheep did not know what this was, and could not recognize it when the shepherds engaged in it, but they were assured that if someone else did it, it was a bad thing), they still needed someone to lead them. The Shepherd inspired no more confidence; his vast array of mental distractions -- Global Warming, "The Patriarchy", "Gun Control", "Free" whatever, and others -- suddenly didn't seem so important, and the shiny object trick had finally worn thin.
And the Orange Ranchero did things, the sheep knew not what, and demanded results (something the shepherd, certainly, never asked for) from these nebulous "experts", and he had even dared to disregard the Plantation the sheep had been used to grazing upon in favor of another group inimical to the Herd, called "capitalists". The sheep are confused. They don't know what to do, or who to believe. They are torn between their loyalty to the Herd and their now-resurgent self-preservation instinct.
Another of these gaseous forms -- which calls itself "Journalists" -- circulates among the Herd. These "Journalists" insist they are due a certain level of deference and that they are entitled to be believed, because, like the "experts", they are living off the cachet their profession built up over centuries, but then discarded for it's own self-interest. These rascals are continuously whispering in the Herd's collective ears a cacophony of word vomit that is supposed to be uncritically regarded as "Truth" (because the "Journalist" is aware the Sheep regard thinking as a chore not suited to Herd life, and best left to someone else to do on it's behalf) and spiteful mendacity directed at The Orange Ranchero -- a relic of their distaste for him, based upon his frequent exposure of their own stupidity and hypocrisy, and their dislike of his "style", which is of a sort their own Herd regards as "common".
So that when The Orange Ranchero speculates about the possibilities of a certain drug being used to treat the Wuhan Fluhan, the Sheep -- with their limited capacity for independent thought, poor reading comprehension skills, and general jerkoff obtained through several generations of inbreeding -- drink Fish Tank Cleaner, and one of them dies, it's Orange Ranchero's fault. At least that's what the "Journalists" said he said. And the Herd, used to accepting whatever is tossed their way without thinking about it, took that as Bible Truth, and the "Journalists" said "Aha!
We told you you were fucktards! That's why you should listen to us! We know everything!" Including that they knew that The Orange Ranchero never told anyone to drink the aquatic version of Tidy Bowl, but that was too good a dig to make at El Presidente, because he doesn't participate in the annual White House Correspondents Association Dinner, which the herd of "Journalists" considers a sacrament, but which The Orange Ranchro regards with the same displeasure one does upon finding the Sheep's poop on the soles of his boots.
And the Shepherds, the "Journalists", the other brain-damaged Herds, and the "expert-because-worthless-diploma-and-government-job" all simultaneously make The Big Noise that Orange Ranchero is a modern-day Doctor Mengele.
Excerpts from a longer essay by our friend
Matthew Noto @My planet, My Rules
We've reached Peak Fucktard. I thought we had achieved this ignominious goal several times before -- the elevation of an Affirmative Action hire to the Presidency; handing out mortgages to people who couldn't pay them back; the destruction of the Western University as a beacon of enlightenment; the elevation of the Kardashians to billionaire status -- but I have obviously been mistaken. No, it took a most-unusual combination of unforeseen factors to bring every last fucktarded waste of gametes out from the closets. Plague, economic ruin, politics, a media-induced panic, have all combined to ensure that the Human Race, particularly the American Breed, could take collective leave of their feeble senses to such an extent as to make one weep for the future of Humanity as a whole.
Mind you, half (at least) of the human race was a disease unto itself, and something akin to herd animals. The behavior of this particular Herd made it abundantly clear that civilization stood upon a knife edge, seeing as it was the half that expected all the rewards of civilization without having to contribute anything of value towards it's continuation. They simply multiplied, made enough noises to make their shepherds attentive to their basest emotions -- discontent, anger, moron, jealousy, fear, a pretense to self-esteem founded largely upon the lack of esteem of the self -- to respond in some fashion. Usually a fashion that was intended to shut the herd up while the shepherd went back to planning how to profit from the fleecing to come.
And the Herd had learned that if you make enough noise, you get something for it. Perhaps not exactly what you wanted, but a close approximation of it, from the shepherd. The shepherd simply tossed out goodies -- the herd cared not whence they came -- and it was better than nothing. Mostly because "better" meant the herd would have to take action of it's own accord, and being sheep, discovering they lacked the collective brainpower and motivation to do little more than graze and make an occasional noise. No, the Herd was a good, comfortable thing. The shepherd, even if he shaved your ass every spring to take your wool and occasionally ate one of your comrades or children, at least could be counted upon to react to your noises. To show initiative, intelligence, ambition, even common sense, was to imply that there was something wrong with the Herd, and the Herd is always touchy and seeking slights, real or imagined, so as to justify more noise and more attention from the shepherds.
And then came the scourge of the Flu Manchu.
The Herd Mentality took over. Suddenly, the Herd was unsafe going about it usual business of aimlessly roaming the pastures. The Herd was now under attack from a force the shepherds could not overcome by simply reacting to mere noise and mollifying same with some shiny object or lofty promise. The sheep became terrified. If the shepherds couldn't understand what was happening, and the supply of shiny-objects-for-noise suddenly dried up, then what was the Herd to do?
The only thing the shepherds -- guided by people they refer to as "experts" whose claim to expertise is highly questionable -- could think to do was to shove the Herd into the barn, where it came into contact with other Herds similarly imprisoned by their shepherds, herders, and tenders. That barn got pretty crowded very quickly. Some sheep didn't make it in and succumbed to the Asian Snot Storm, which made the sheep sad, since they all believed they were going to live forever -- because they made the noise that said they should, and the Shepherd reacted by destroying the veterinary system they would depend upon in an act of Social Justice -- and this was a tragedy.
And it gave the sheep, perhaps for the first time in their lives, a sense of their own mortality; and this was, like, unfair...and stuff. The Sheep expected to survive, because someone else had studied to be a vet, and someone else had built the veterinary hospital, and someone else had been expected to pick up the tab when the sheep fell ill, and the shepherd had promised eternal life at someone else's expense. Someone the sheep referred to as "a deplorable", but whom they had never seen, having never ventured far from the Herd. But the Shepherd insisted they existed and the sheep always believed the shepherd, even when they couldn't understand what he was talking about. Because new shiny object arrived before the perturbation coalesced around understanding.
The Herd began to doubt. The Shepherd was no longer believed. He couldn't be believed, for the reality the Sheep had now experienced -- vicariously, on television -- did not match the fantasy the Shepherd had constructed, and even sheep -- stupid, unthinking, unmotivated, easily-silenced-by-promises sheep -- had to notice. And so they looked to someone else for leadership.
Even though the Herd had been trained from it's earliest stages to regard The Orange Ranchero with little more than reflexive disgust and fear of imminent fascism (the sheep did not know what this was, and could not recognize it when the shepherds engaged in it, but they were assured that if someone else did it, it was a bad thing), they still needed someone to lead them. The Shepherd inspired no more confidence; his vast array of mental distractions -- Global Warming, "The Patriarchy", "Gun Control", "Free" whatever, and others -- suddenly didn't seem so important, and the shiny object trick had finally worn thin.
And the Orange Ranchero did things, the sheep knew not what, and demanded results (something the shepherd, certainly, never asked for) from these nebulous "experts", and he had even dared to disregard the Plantation the sheep had been used to grazing upon in favor of another group inimical to the Herd, called "capitalists". The sheep are confused. They don't know what to do, or who to believe. They are torn between their loyalty to the Herd and their now-resurgent self-preservation instinct.
Another of these gaseous forms -- which calls itself "Journalists" -- circulates among the Herd. These "Journalists" insist they are due a certain level of deference and that they are entitled to be believed, because, like the "experts", they are living off the cachet their profession built up over centuries, but then discarded for it's own self-interest. These rascals are continuously whispering in the Herd's collective ears a cacophony of word vomit that is supposed to be uncritically regarded as "Truth" (because the "Journalist" is aware the Sheep regard thinking as a chore not suited to Herd life, and best left to someone else to do on it's behalf) and spiteful mendacity directed at The Orange Ranchero -- a relic of their distaste for him, based upon his frequent exposure of their own stupidity and hypocrisy, and their dislike of his "style", which is of a sort their own Herd regards as "common".
So that when The Orange Ranchero speculates about the possibilities of a certain drug being used to treat the Wuhan Fluhan, the Sheep -- with their limited capacity for independent thought, poor reading comprehension skills, and general jerkoff obtained through several generations of inbreeding -- drink Fish Tank Cleaner, and one of them dies, it's Orange Ranchero's fault. At least that's what the "Journalists" said he said. And the Herd, used to accepting whatever is tossed their way without thinking about it, took that as Bible Truth, and the "Journalists" said "Aha!
We told you you were fucktards! That's why you should listen to us! We know everything!" Including that they knew that The Orange Ranchero never told anyone to drink the aquatic version of Tidy Bowl, but that was too good a dig to make at El Presidente, because he doesn't participate in the annual White House Correspondents Association Dinner, which the herd of "Journalists" considers a sacrament, but which The Orange Ranchro regards with the same displeasure one does upon finding the Sheep's poop on the soles of his boots.
And the Shepherds, the "Journalists", the other brain-damaged Herds, and the "expert-because-worthless-diploma-and-government-job" all simultaneously make The Big Noise that Orange Ranchero is a modern-day Doctor Mengele.
~ Thank You WHATFINGER NEWS for the Linkage! ~
Friday, April 24, 2020
Middle Finger Symphony Theater
~ NO TUXEDOS REQUIRED ~
Brought To You By BLUESJUNKY: Chair of Music - Middle Finger Symphony Music Director
Michigan Lawmakers Consider Move to Reign In Frau Whitmer
 |
| The Plastic Face Lady - Govenor Frau Whitmer (D-Michigan) |
Lawmakers in Michigan are considering bills that would strip Gov. Gretchen Whitmer of some of her powers after her decision to extend Michigan’s stay-at-home order for two weeks beyond its original April 30 expiration The Wolverine State has been rocked by protests and unrest for weeks over the restrictive measures, with some state lawmakers calling a special legislative session on Friday to reel in the Frau Whitmer. Armed protesters descended on the governor’s home Thursday after news of the extended order broke in a demonstration dubbed “Operation Queen’s Castle.”
Critics have accused the 48-year-old first-term Democrat governor of overstepping her authority with a series of measures. The April 9 revisions to her initial stay-at-home order included bans on visiting friends and relatives or traveling to vacation homes, and halts on sales of items such as furniture and gardening supplies. But marijuana, lottery tickets and alcohol had been declared "essential," while lawn care, construction and fishing in a motorized boat had been declared nonessential amid the outbreak.
On Monday, Whitmer said she would take a 10 percent cut to her $159,300 annual salary and her staffers would take cuts of 5 percent as the state grapples with the financial fallout of the coronavirus shutdowns. Gee Gretch, that's real generous of you.
[New York Post]
[Detroit News]
~ Thank You MJA@IOTWReport for the Linkage! ~
Thursday, April 23, 2020
The Award for 'Best Staged Media Theatrics' of the Week Goes to The Duo of Squinty & Meat Puppet
Joe Scarborough opened today's 'Morning with Squinty & Meat Puppet' by mentioning that rather than watching DJT's press conference yesterday, he listened to the Rolling Stones to calm his nerves. Squinty Joe, known for his scripted rants he stays up nights writing, because we all know he's not sharp enough to 'Off the Cuff It', opened up on his tens of hundreds of viewers with a pretend meltdown which didn't fool me a bit, literally screaming and pounding the table as he railed against DJT and an unnamed "network" [obviously Fox News] regarding the coronavirus.
Dutifully playing her appointed part, Meat Puppet Mika almost acts concerned about her husband's mental health as they went to break, asking Scarborough "do you need to go listen to the Stones, or are you okay?"
This is media Faux outrage and play for attention at it's best. I present to you the winner of 'Best Staged Media Theatrics' of the Week":
[NewsBusters Video]
Dutifully playing her appointed part, Meat Puppet Mika almost acts concerned about her husband's mental health as they went to break, asking Scarborough "do you need to go listen to the Stones, or are you okay?"
This is media Faux outrage and play for attention at it's best. I present to you the winner of 'Best Staged Media Theatrics' of the Week":
[NewsBusters Video]
Wednesday, April 22, 2020
From Court Jester to The Placeholder
Strange days are these, indeed. And in what alternative universe can anyone imagine Joe Biden actually making it through a rigorous election campaign? The party he supposedly leads stuffed him into a closet last week after he gibbered and drooled through a live stream appearance with CNN’s softball pitcher Anderson Cooper. They can’t just hide the poor dolt there until November.
Asked about reopening everyday life in America, Biden said, “You know, there’s a…Roosevelt (not sure if he meant Teddy or Franklin) and something something something and war. It went downhill from there. Everybody knows he’s dimmer than a night-lite, and everybody’s pretending it’s okay. There’s no analog in history for any faction putting up such an empty vessel for high office. Granted, the Democratic Party has trafficked in unreality for years, from Crossfire Hurricane through UkraineGate (with side-trips like trannies in women’s sports) but those capers were just old-fashioned scams. Joe Biden for President is Emperor’s-New-Clothes caliber deceit, requiring a rank-and-file so marinated in falsehood they couldn’t tell you the difference between a red light and a green light.
So, you have to ask: what is their game? Picking Joe as the instrument to block Bernie seemed especially dumb just weeks after the Democrats’ impeachment gambit blew up in their faces. There really are only two plausible game plans for the Dems with Biden. One is that he’s a mere placeholder until the convention – assuming it can even be held, where party bigwigs are forced to undo their Biden blunder by some legerdemain of rules-fudging, and cram in a last-minute replacement. The putative savior would be none other than She-Whose-Turn-Was-Thwarted in 2016, on the grounds that she at least knows how to run for president, even if she isn’t very good at it. They might as well hand every delegate a dixie-cup of cyanide-enhanced kool-aid as they cast that fateful vote.
The other pretty obvious scheme, seemingly underway now, is to fix up Joe with a running-mate who can take over his duties twenty-three minutes after the inauguration ceremony. Tank Abrams, the self-proclaimed “real governor of Georgia” who, in fact lost that election but has made out nicely hustling her delusions while campaigning arduously for the VP appointment. Wouldn’t that make a heck of an appealing ticket? Or maybe the Voodoo Queen Kamala??
Apparently, there's a memo the Democratic Party didn't get: America no longer has time for identity politics. There are more important things to attend to, like whether large numbers of people go to bed hungry, get cast out of their homes, live or die. Things like that. For the moment, the USA doesn’t have an economy. Nor does much of the rest of the world. Believe me, that’s a problem. And unlike Joe's dementia, there’s no pretense about not noticing it
EARL DONE THIS
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)