Why DC has turned to shite

I’ve said it for over six months and, despite that, some elements of the media are just now beginning to catch up. And that is this.

The Demorats, the DNC, Leftists and the American Media Maggots themselves have not been able to psychologically migrate from November 8th, 2016 to November 9th, 2016.

As in: Hillary Rodham Clinton should be president and we — all of us — cannot possibly believe that the man with the dead orange cat on his head is in charge of anything at all.

From the WashingtonFreeBeacon.com:

The One Sentence That Explains Washington Dysfunction

by Matthew Continetti

The other day Senator Pat Toomey of Pennsylvania explained why Republicans are having such trouble with health care. Speaking at a town hall during the July 4 recess, Toomey said, “I didn’t expect Donald Trump to win. I think most of my colleagues didn’t. So we didn’t expect to be in this situation.”

No kidding. I too can report that, from June 16, 2015, to November 8, 2016, the feeling among the elected officials, party functionaries, consultants, strategists, and journalists in our nation’s capital was that Donald J. Trump stood no chance of becoming president of the United States. And because the political elite held this view with such self-assurance, with all the egotism and snobbery and moral puffery and snarkiness that distinguishes itself as a class, it did not spend more than a second, if that, thinking through the possible consequences of a Trump victory.

I repeat, at the risk of being repetitive, live and direct from the Department of Redundancy Dept., what I’ve said for at least nine months. Absolutely no one was prepared for or anticipated Donald Trump to win.

“I didn’t expect Donald Trump to win. I think most of my colleagues didn’t. So we didn’t expect to be in this situation.”

Please allow me to translate EstabliHack GOP Speak for you: “we didn’t expect Donald Trump to win so we essentially prepared nothing, thinking we’d be riding on more of the standard ‘talk much/do little’ strategy so customary with Establishment Republicans.”

That also accounts, you see, for the GOP having no cogent, conservative, logical alternative to ObamaKare prepared on paper though all of the candidates swore — as did the entire GOP itself — to repeal and replace the ACA.

Just as the Demorats were convinced Hillary Clinton would clap her canky little ankles up the White House steps, so were the Republicans convinced that Meb Bushney or Lindike Grahabee would settle a derriere behind the Resolution desk.

Not so, boys and girls, not so.

Further, all the oinking DC piglets lining up at the trough on both sides of the aisle have had their muzzles occasionally pulled from the DC nipple in a most disconcerting fashion and they are anything but pleased. The man with the dead orange cat on his head has most certainly upset the proverbial apple cart and, frankly, couldn’t care less who is affected, donk or phant.

This accounts for the true underminers on both sides to have wound up and pitched their most hellish opposition to damn near everything Trump has wanted to do. Internal squabbles Inside Power don’t help, either.

Despite all of this ridiculous shite President Trump has managed to do just a bit of politicking and directing which has resulted in any number of corporations deciding to stay stateside, a nice stock market, an uptick in jobs, an accountable VA, an exquisite Supreme Court selection, a reduction in illegal immigration from Mexico, an increase in deportations, the curtains finally having been pulled back on the American Media Maggots, an improvement in military and national confidence and the wholesale elimination of any number of executive orders penned by one Barack Hussein Obama.

All in six months.

Then there’s this: the absolute stark explosion of raving moonbattery from the Demorats and Leftists.

Why stop there? Pelosi so perfectly typifies and embodies the current status of the Demorats today: disjointed, stuttering, rambling, going nowhere and accomplishing nothing yet making a loud noise doing so. The abject moonbattery is quite delicious.

To that I can only add that I’ll gladly do for the Demorats what I’ve offered to do for the American Media Maggots: pleasantly allow them to commit seppuku. I’ll cheerfully be their second as well and suggest lovingly where and how to make that second very important sword cut.

Impeachment for Trump? Hardly. All the Demorats are doing is, thankfully, unraveling and unfocusing. 2018 is starting to look better and better.

Bravo, Demorats and GOP EstabliHacks.

We see you.



Pat Condell nails Islam, Merkel and Europe

I’ve said it before and I shall say it again.

Angela Merkel has mostly single-handedly managed to doom the bulk of Europe via her guilt-dripping decision to import Syrian “refugees” into Germany and, by dint of that, into the rest of Europe.

The UK’s Pat Condell (an atheist) states the obvious which, sadly, isn’t obvious to GOWPs, Leftists, Demorats, Progressives and — naturally — to Muslims.

“Europe’s last chance” indeed.

With the startling caveat that what is failing in Europe is being sought-after and embraced by our own Leftist, Demorat and Progressive wingnuts because — after all — Leftists possess what I term Historical Alzheimers and have shown time and again they learn nothing from history.

Even when it is occurring right in front of them, under their very elitist, arrogant, gentrified noses.



GOWPs in LeftyLand

GOWP LeftThink

Figure 1: GOWP (Guilty Overeducated White Person), one each, female, with dreadlocks. Note superior smirk. Knows how your life should be run, better than you.

I own an elitist German car.  Ask any Leftist.  I had just gotten back into said car after having rolled into the local Mendocino market for groceries and snark. When I got into the car I slammed the door with a tad bit more enthusiasm than customary.  My wife asked “what’s wrong?”  She’s prescient that way.

Mendocino, for the uninitiated, is Leftist Central for Mendocino County which, by extension, is pretty much LC for Fornicalia.  Bernie Sanders signs are everywhere.  The young kids wear dreadlocks and hang around Moody’s Organic Coffee Bar.  Uh yeah.  The kids are Caucasoids.  Occasionally an errant young black male makes his way through and is kindly asked to leave the town by its elders.  They have to retain its detached unicorn-and-pink-pony-filled artsy-fartsy air, you see.  As a result, no thump car, hoopti or black gangbanger with shit-stained underwear exposed in sight.  Mendocino has standards.

Samsung Note 4, 11-10-2014 198Let’s back up a moment.  My wife and I like to vacation by the ocean.  We live in Occupied Fornicalia so that means the Pacific Ocean.  We stay anywhere from Morro Bay in the south up to Eureka in the north.  And points beyond.  For the past two weeks we have been staying in a cottage in Mendocino.  We don’t do motels any more because we don’t much like the public, she and I.  We are both in love with each other that way.  We like to rent cottages and condos and homes.  Something with a full kitchen, big bed, Jacuzzi and a great view.

Occasionally one must needs make a shopping trip.  That happened last night at the store mentioned in the very first paragraph.  And from here the story unfolds.

There is one check stand open.  I am fifth in line with a few things in my hands.  A “few things” because I’ve forgotten my personal shopping bag.  Yes, Mendocino is one of those Leftist towns that has done away with horrible, repressive and environment-killing plastic bags.  You either bring your own or you can pay for a paper bag.  I don’t “pay” for bags.

My “bag” is a large red plastic laundry tub that I carry into a store and shove ahead of me because it mostly doesn’t fit in the aisles and it takes up altogether too much space at checkout.  Some persons have accused me of attempting to make a statement.  I disagree.  I simply find the tub practical.  Who knows just how much stuff you’re going to purchase with each market visit?  I don’t.  I want to be prepared.  I’m just not prepared today.

The guy before me has one of the small wheeled shopping carts favorited by this market.  The checker rings up his stuff, he leaves, the cart is first in line now, about even with the checker.  Three people are behind.  I am now fourth in line.  The three people behind the cart don’t move.  They seem perplexed.  Do we move the cart?  The checker should move the cart.  We shouldn’t move the cart.  We can’t touch it, it isn’t ours.  Will someone think us pushy if we touch the cart and move it out of the way?  The checker is quiet.  The three ahead of me are quiet.  It’s a standoff.  Cart vs GOWP.  At this point the cart is winning.  I can almost hear the gears grinding in the skulls of the three Leftist ‘tards before me.  I can see word balloons above their heads filled with “What do I do?” and “I don’t want to appear to be hasty.” and “What will others think if I make a decision here?”

The cart, however, still keeps winning.

BZ couldn’t take it anymore.  He tapped his Inner Sheepdog.

I stepped in front of all three, shoved the cart brusquely (I like that word) to the left, grabbed three of the wide, hard plastic separators that delineate people’s stuff on the grocery belt, and slapped them down.  “You put your shit here,” I said to the first person.  “You put your shit here,” I said to the second person.  “And you put your shit here,” I said to the third.

All three did as I said.  The checker checked.  The patrons paid.  No one said a word.  A second line was opened.  No one said a word there either.  Customers near the checkout area were quiet as they walked by.  I decided to pay in cash.  “Jesus, you pussies,” I mumbled.  “Get a fucking life.  Make a decision.”  I left the store.  I didn’t get into a Prius.

I’m sure my “performance” was talked about after I left.  They surely didn’t and wouldn’t have the guts to do so in the minute.

Leftist Mendocino, Sphere of GOWP Insanity

Figure 2: Mendocino, CA, Leftist Central for Occupied Fornicalia. Beautiful but insane.

So there you have it.  GOWPs in their finest hour.  Shocked, I tell you.  I shocked them all.  Frankly, I would like to have been a fly on the wall for the next half hour.

I feel sorry for the Mendocino County Sheriff Department deputies — the Sheepdogs — who have to respond to calls for “my dealer has been selling me inferior weed.”  Or most any other call for service in Mendocino.  Beautiful area.  Stupid sheep.

Luckily for Mendocino, wolves not allowed.




As I write this, the door to the outside deck is open.  It is raining in Mendocino and I can hear the drops hitting the skylight overhead.  I can also hear the waves crashing outside near the headlands.  The Jacuzzi is running and the fireplace crackling.  It just doesn’t get any better than this.