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OCTOBER DIARY [9 ITEMS]: Critical Race Theory In Virginia; the Derbs' Official Visit to VDARE.Com Castle; Skin Off My Nose; ETC.
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What Critical Race Theory is all about

Critical Race Theory continues in the news, playing a key role in the unexpectedly close Virginia gubernatorial race. What’s going on?

In December last year I passed some remarks about humiliation. When a human being has power over other human beings there is, for certain personality types, one aspect of that power that is especially delicious: the power to humiliate.

I quoted one of the most-quoted remarks on this topic. It’s so good I’ll quote it again.

Political correctness is communist propaganda writ small. In my study of communist societies, I came to the conclusion that the purpose of communist propaganda was not to persuade or convince, not to inform, but to humiliate; and therefore, the less it corresponded to reality the better. When people are forced to remain silent when they are being told the most obvious lies, or even worse when they are forced to repeat the lies themselves, they lose once and for all their sense of probity. To assent to obvious lies is in some small way to become evil oneself. One’s standing to resist anything is thus eroded, and even destroyed. A society of emasculated liars is easy to control. I think if you examine political correctness, it has the same effect and is intended to.
Our Culture, What’s Left of It: The Mandarins and the Masses by Theodore Dalrymple.

That’s what Critical Race Theory is all about. Just take a moment to link to that astonishing 2017 YouTube clip of black land whale Ashleigh Shackelford telling a roomful of captive whites what scum they are.

The whites sit there meekly taking it in. Nobody storms out, nobody throws anything at the speaker, nobody even laughs. They don’t dare. They know that if they did any of those things their employer, who has set up Moby Dick’s presentation and paid good money for it, would fire them.

So they submit to humiliation; and in the back rooms the people who have set up the show are chuckling with glee.

On October 24th our own Paul Kersey posted a great comment on this theme, relating it to the current erasure of America’s past. Taking down statues and monuments, Paul wrote, was what conquerors do to humiliate the conquered.

It’s odd, though, that this particular conquest has taken so long to complete. The Confederacy was defeated militarily 156 years ago; yet only recently have its emblems been proscribed and its statues taken down.

There has been a great change here, and very recently. Ten years ago I don’t think the Ruling Class would have dared to remove the statues of Lee and Jackson. Ten years ago, I doubt a roomful of whites would have sat still and respectful while Ashleigh Shackelford insulted them. Fifty years ago? Fugeddaboutit!

America’s white working class is crushed and hopeless as never before. They will bow their heads to any humiliation. They will obediently murmur assent that yes, the Emperor’s new clothes are magnificent, and yes, the deer is a horse.

Our Deplorables are now, at last, thoroughly defeated. Our elites are celebrating total victory and tasting the sweet, sweet pleasure of humiliating a beaten foe. That’s what Critical Race Theory is all about.

Visiting Berkeley Springs

Mr and Mrs Derb (and Basil) started the month with a weekend trip to the VDARE.cm castle in Berkeley Springs, West Virginia. I had been to the castle before, but for Mrs D it was a first.

The Brimelows were as generously hospitable as ever, their three little girls were delightful and entertaining, my lady was impressed and fascinated by the castle, and a good time was had by all. The only negativity came from Basil, who disgraced himself, although so slyly it wasn’t discovered until after we’d departed on the Sunday.

We took time out from the castle to explore Berkeley Springs itself and find out something about the place. It’s a charming little town, the people friendly and helpful.

Before Berkeley Springs was a town at all, it was a spa: a place where 18th-century American colonists— including the teenage George Washington— went to “take the waters.”

You can still do that. The spa district is now a pleasant state park, where you can sample such delights as a mud wrap, a sugar scrub, and a hot stone massage. I wish I could tell you what those treatments are, and what it’s like to experience them; but you need to book in advance and we hadn’t. Next time.

More particularly to my interest in the state park was a little museum with displays on the history of the place.

I love these local museums. There was— and still is, I see— one in my home town back in England. It sits in an old manor house in a beautiful park. My sister and I spent many happy childhood hours mooching around the place, which was gothic enough all by itself, inspecting such wonders as Civil War (England’s, not America’s) cannonballs, Victorian dolls’ houses, a picture of the fattest man in 18th-century England, and the blackened, shriveled hand of a mummy that some local egyptologist had brought back to the town.

The Berkeley Springs museum is not quite as creepily thrilling as that, but very well done. There is no entrance fee, but I always think I should support these local enterprises, so on my way out I purchased a book from them: Berkeley Springs in the Images of America series from Arcadia Publishing. Like others in the series, it is a collection of photographs through the years, with brief captions.

I am sorry to say that one photograph got my particular attention. While exploring the lawns of the little State Park I had spotted a bronze plaque set into the grass. The plaque explained itself: It covers a time capsule buried there in 1963, to be dug up and wondered at in 2063. In case you miss the plaque among the grass, there is a post nearby with a board telling the same story.

I learned from the Images of America book that this spot was not always thus marked. Americans of 1963 were very much aware they lived in the Space Age, and they erected an appropriate monument to mark the location of this time capsule. This erection was, however, subsequently removed and replaced by today’s more modest markers. Why? See if you can guess.

China retreats into xenophobia

Some weeks ago my wife and I attended a dinner party at a Chinese restaurant in New York City. The occasion was some old college classmates of Mrs D’s visiting from China with family members. Some other classmates long since settled in the New York area were also present, along with an elderly couple who had been teachers at the college before settling in the U.S.A. in the late 1980s. I’ll call this couple the Mengs. It was all very gemütlich.

Some of those present we had not seen in person since our trip to China two years ago. I remarked on our happy memories of that trip, and particularly on the celebrity-level hospitality we’d received from the college president and his staff.

After hearing that, Professor Meng frowned and shook his head. “It wouldn’t be like that if you visited nowadays,” he said. “Two years ago, policy was to be nice to Americans. Today policy is totally the opposite.”

That came to mind when, in early October, I was chatting with a new acquaintance, an American I’ll call “Joe,” who knows China very well. When I replayed Professor Meng’s words to him, he nodded agreement. The ChiComs seem not to want any foreigners in China at all, he told me. It’s even hard now to get into China on a student visa, to study at a Chinese university. (While we of course continue to hand out visas to Chinese students like Halloween candy.) Joe actually owns property in China, but even that doesn’t help him get an entry visa.

Adventures in the skin trade

The story so far. In last month’s diary I recorded having had a tiny blemish removed from the side of my nose by Dr Nguyen, our town dermatologist.

Standard dermatological operating procedure is to send the removed item to a lab for biopsy. My biopsy found signs of melanoma, a variety of skin cancer. Dr Nguyen handed me off to Dr Chen, a dermato-oncologist (onco-dermatologist?) at a nearby cancer center. I signed up for an October 13th appointment with Dr Chen. Now read on.

Dr Chen drew a perfect circle on the side of my nose, one centimeter in radius, centered on the site of the original blemish. He then removed the surface skin from that circle, all 3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971 … square centimeters of it.

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The point of this, he explained, was that the original site was likely located within a larger area of diseased tissue, shaped like an irregular splotch. If that splotch was entirely contained within the excised circle, job done— we had removed the whole thing. If, however, the splotch reached all the way to the circle’s perimeter— the “margin“— that would mean diseased tissue outside the circle, with more excising to be done.

Off to the lab for a “margin test” went my little circle of nose skin. I was on tenterhooks for a couple of days waiting for the report. No offense to Dr Chen, who did what he had to do efficiently and painlessly, after some local anesthetic; I just didn’t want to lose any more of my skin. The old idiom, “It’s no skin off my nose,” does not apply here. This is skin off my nose.

The margin test came back clear, thank goodness, so Dr Chen handed me off to Dr Dagum, a plastic surgeon, to restore my nose to its former majesty.

That was a much longer procedure than Dr Chen’s: I was in Dr Dagum’s chair for an hour and a half, whispering to myself the words I reserve for such occasions: “When He has tested me, I shall come forth as gold.”

Dr Dagum made the whole grisly business as bearable as it can be made, amusing me with trade stories of re-attaching severed fingers and twelve-hour sessions in the OR with car crash victims. In the matter of having great stories to tell, doctors are up there with cops and combat veterans.

That was done on October 22nd. Here I was setting up to record Radio Derb that evening, a few hours later.

October 27th, the last dressings came off. October 29th, sutures removed. Here I am at month end: not really gold, but decently presentable.

Sincere thanks to all those medical people for getting me through this with maximum speed and minimum pain.

Dermato-oncological humor

It’s encouraging and cheering, and I think speaks well of human nature, that minor medical adventures of this sort seem to bring out people’s sense of humor. Some samples:

  • The gratitude I expressed in the last segment towards those medical professionals is, I repeat, sincere. However, as much as we prize our reasoning faculties— and I think I prize mine more than the average— there always are, lurking deep-embedded behind reason, older, darker, wilder things: instinct, feeling, upbringing.My innate attitude to doctors is, I’m sorry to say, negative. On health issues, I am a temperamental fatalist. If I am afflicted with anything worse than a cold or a stomach-ache, my default assumption is that either it’ll get better by itself, or I shall die. If I didn’t have a loving wife to nag me, I would have no truck with doctors at all.
    So one regrettable side-effect of this engagement with Drs Nguyen, Chen, and Dagum was, that I couldn’t altogether suppress the suspicion that they are running a little money-making cartel, drumming up business for each other. It’s ridiculous, of course; but in moments of inattention, when reason slept, I imagined Dr Nguyen chortling down the phone to the other two: “I’ve hooked another one! Let’s reel him in! …”
    When I replayed these shameful imaginings to a friend, he responded with: “If that were true it would make you a rhinopatsy.”
  • Dr Chen was an engaging and witty fellow. As he was about to begin the procedure I remarked, in a clumsy attempt at light-heartedness, that I hoped he knew what he was doing, as I only have the one nose. “Don’t worry,” replied Dr Chen. “I just got through watching the YouTube tutorial. Ha ha ha ha!”
  • After contemplating my post-op face in the mirror, the un-dressed face parts visibly swollen and bruised, I remarked to my son that I might try to parlay my condition into some street cred by claiming to have been in a fist-fight. Junior: “Yeah! Don’t forget to end by saying, ‘But you should see the other guy!'”
  • Two different acquaintances observed that if the doctors were to totally screw up and make a mess of my face, at least I should look appropriate for Halloween.I laughed at that both times. When I tried it out on Dr Dagum’s nurse, though, I got a roll of the eyes. “People always say that about facial surgery in October.”

Rhinotomophobia

Dr Dagum, the plastic surgeon, knows the history of his art. Chatting with him, I mentioned 16th-century Danish astronomer Tycho Brahe, who lost his nose in a sword duel when a student. Brahe spent the rest of his life with a prosthetic nose made, according to latest scholarship, of brass. (Older books say gold, silver, or silver-gold amalgam. The precise composition of Tycho’s proboscis prosthesis has been a subject of fierce controversy among historians of science for four hundred years.)

Dr Dagum replied that in those days, when smart young men wore swords as an item of everyday dress and duelling was common, fear of losing one’s nose, or perhaps just the tip of it, was widespread.

That had never occurred to me. So now at last I have an explanation for Nikolai Gogol’s very weird short story The Nose, in which a respectable citizen of Tsarist Saint Petersburg wakes up one morning to find his nose has gone missing.

Indelible images

In my October 29th podcast I mentioned Dominic Behan, an Irish writer, songwriter, and drunk who was a well-known Liverpool character when I lived in that city during the late 1960s.

I saw Dominic Behan in performance a couple of times. The venues weren’t very grand. In England back then there was a lively subculture of events staged in the back rooms of pubs. The audiences were young educated bohemian types, college students and such; the acts were all in the general zone of folk singing, poetry slams, and stand-up comedy.

Dominic Behan would sometimes show up at these events, generally three sheets to the wind, and make random contributions to the entertainment. I remember him singing a spirited a cappella version of the old music-hall ditty “Has Anybody Seen Our Cat?.”

He also had a nice line in observational anecdotes, mainly to do with Dublin and Liverpool street life. In one of them he told about walking along a street in a poor part of Dublin where some old biddies were gossiping around one of the doorsteps. As Behan got closer he heard enough to gather that the topic of their gossip was a young woman of the neighborhood who had married a Negro.

Then as he passed by them he heard one of the old biddies shriek: “Sure, I wouldn’t have one of dem black fellers on top of me—no, not if his arse was studded with diamonds!”

For me that belongs in the category of things that, once heard, are never forgotten.

My abusive relationship with The Economist

I keep meaning to cancel my Economist subscription. Their cheerleading for elite fads— open-borders globalism, the “climate change” racket, Trump Derangement Syndrome— is so annoying. Every single issue of The Economist contains something, often just a sentence or two, that causes me to hurl the damn thing across the room.

(In the current, October 30th issue, these two sentence on page 36, in reference to Joe Biden: “By recent standards, his administration has performed creditably. It is led by serious people, unlike its predecessor.”)

Then, in among all the snobbery and error, I invariably read something that causes my fingers to hover uncertainly over the cancel-my-subscription email and hit the “delete” button at last.

In the August 28th issue, for example the magazine’s “Science & Technology” section was entirely given over to a 3-page article on the state of our understanding in fundamental physics. The whole thing is very well done, really good pop-science writing. I liked it at the time. Re-reading it the other day, I still liked it, which doesn’t happen often.

After some short general remarks on the subject, the leader introducing that article closed with the following.

That the human intellect struggles with all this should not be surprising. It evolved so that a social primate could find food and mates and keep safe by interpreting a world halfway between the submicroscopic realm of the quantum and the cosmic vastness of relativity. It has become a commonplace that human brains are lumbered with these limitations— cognitively, socially and politically. How surprising and gratifying, then, that humanity occasionally manages to use mathematics, observation and experiment to transcend its own limits so spectacularly.

That is very well said. Of course it’s not original. I dimly recall from way back in my adolescence some British egghead on the radio (Berlin? Ayer?) saying something like: “The human mind is a food-seeking mechanism, no more capable of apprehending ultimate truth than a pig’s snout.”

Probably some Greek said a similar thing 2,500 years ago. We more often need to be reminded than informed, though, and The Economist’s phrasing of that truth is memorably eloquent.

So … looking forward to next week’s issue.

Math Corner

There is somewhat of an overlap between math play and word play. The late Martin Gardner enjoyed word play, and gave over at least one of his “Mathematical Games” columns in Scientific American to it.

With that as an excuse, here’s a word-play challenge (wordteaser?) It’s inspired by this, from a reader:

The idea is to write something intellibible using only letters that are composed entirely of straight lines.

The enforced absence of B, C, D, G, J, O, P, Q, R, S, and U imposes an elliptical and archaic diction, but the following I think almost resembles sense.

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MANY A TIME HAVE I MET MEN THAT, TELL WHAT TALE THEY WILL, TALK WHAT VAIN INANITY THEY LIKE, WE THAT KEN THE THEME WILL MEET IT WITH A HEALTHY YAWN, FLAIL IT AWAY WITH A WINK, I MEAN THE LIVELY KINK IN THE EYE THAT WILL ANNIHILATE THE VAIN, LAZY KNAVE THAT FEELETH AMAZEMENT AT ANY TINY ANTHILL WHILE HE VIEWETH WITH ENVY THE FAMILIAL TALENT, THE LIVELY ZEAL, THE KEEN, KNIFE-LIKE, ALKALINE WIT THAT WILL FIX IN LITTLE TIME WITH MINIMAL HEAT THE FLAXEN TINT IN A FILM-THIN, NEATLY KNIT, FINE NEW LINEN MANTLE, VENTILATE THE VILE FLEA-HIVE IN A FILTHY FELT TENT, MAKE FINE THE LAWN TWILL IN A MILK-WHITE TEXTILE, THEN, FINALLY, TWEAK WITH A VITAL YET FATAL FLAME MY MEAN, LEAN ENTHYMEME.

I think that’s pretty darn good. It got me wondering, however, about the complementary problem of writing something intelligible using only those other letters: B, C, D, G, J, O, P, Q, R, S, and U. I can’t get much beyond low nonsense like DO BOGUS GODS JOG, POOR JOB? If anyone can do better, I’ll publish it.

John Derbyshire [email him] writes an incredible amount on all sorts of subjects for all kinds of outlets. (This no longer includes National Review, whose editors had some kind of tantrum and fired him.) He is the author of We Are Doomed: Reclaiming Conservative Pessimism and several other books. He has had two books published by VDARE.com com: FROM THE DISSIDENT RIGHT (also available in Kindle) and FROM THE DISSIDENT RIGHT II: ESSAYS 2013.

(Republished from VDare by permission of author or representative)
 
• Category: Ideology 
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  1. Regarding the video above with the land whale: There were almost all women in the audience, it looks like. They have less of a tendency to make trouble. In the corporate world, they are less likely to have important jobs too.

    I’m not saying for sure a group full of men would have raised hell or walked out together. However, how hard do they want to push this humiliation? There can be blow-back still. Lots of us have extra sick time, in the sense “I’m gonna take a sick day, I’m so sick of you people!” (h/t, Elaine Benice.) Then there’s the throwing of a spanner down the hole (h/t, Mark Knofler)

    Besides this video, a bunch of computer “learning” I had to complete a week ago made me so glad I’m not a cube-dweller in the current age. I would have a hell of a time not being the one to throw something and walk out, were this in person. Only, 15 years ago, we used to have a blast during the quick sexual harassment and business ethics segments. Stories were told, joke were made, and we all knew and acknowledged that it is a bunch of crap. Nobody has any fun anymore.

    • Agree: Jim Christian
  2. Perhaps you’re aware of “Void” – an entire novel written without the benefit of the letter ‘e’? I tried to read it, but found that a strange tension mounted in my mind as I progressed, until I finally gave up.
    BTW Amazon lists it as “Void” but I’m certain that my copy, stored in a box somewhere, is titled “A Void”.

    • Replies: @John Derbyshire
  3. @Achmed E. Newman

    It is not fun to succumb, but it looks as if it would become increasingly fun to dominate in the name of the good/diversity/equality, the climate etc. pp. (s. Robin DiAngelo et tutti quanti…).
    What Theordore Dalrymple points out about the core mental strategy of the Communist Sphere, the part with the humiliation, has already begun big style here, in the west, too if I think of the Covid or the Geoge-Floyd or the CRT-shenanigans. This sure ain’t fun no more.
    The work of the German-Rumanian writer Herta Müller is exactly about this phenomenon: Depersonalisation by the communist state’s attacks on your own personal senses/thoughts – your sense of reality. – See her (short, but dense!) novel The Passport. It could have been titled Humiliation quite easily! Herta Müller, a shy and very humble person -received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2009 – and rightfully so! – she sure was at somehting big. Don’t know if Theodore Dalrymple knows her work. He might well like it.

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herta_M%C3%BCller

    • Replies: @Achmed E. Newman
  4. “Nobody has any fun anymore.”
    Reminds me of “One flew over the Cookoo’s
    Nest.” Laughter is an act of rebellion. To laugh AT the “establishment ” & all its cynical b.s is to undermine it & strengthen yourself.

  5. @Dieter Kief

    Thank you, Dieter. I am on the wiki page now. I have the Spectator article you linked us to on PS loaded up to read later too – Wokeness is the New Christianity.

  6. John, please get well. Hope things continue to improve for you. Our country needs you and others like you to help defend us against the leftist savages who are intent on destroying our Nation. Best wishes and good luck !

    • Replies: @John Derbyshire
  7. @Achmed E. Newman

    My reaction to having to sit through corporate CRT would be more diabolical than a walkout. I’d smile, nod, then go back to work, except my personal mission would then be to commit major vandalism, quietly, to the company’s interest. Sabotage, in short. Memos to the press, titty pics to executives that would incense their wives, right up to and including damage to processes and the building itself. Why walk out when you can scorch their earth and dole out some ruin? I’d dole out lots of nooses and swastikas, too. Copies of huck Finn, like that.

    And you’re right Acchie, the office is no fun anymore. That ended, in DC anyway, with the W. Bush era. I go to the back of the offices of my customers (IT, Telecom) nowadays in the Boston region and DC and from the reception area back, the tension is so thick you could serve it like butter. No fun.

  8. Derb, thanks for a non-math brain teaser, suitable for my non-math brain.

    BOB, DOUG DUG POROUS BOG. DO POOR JOB. DOUG SUCCORS GOOD BUD BOB. “BOOBOOS OCCUR!”

    (I submitted one of these earlier that got “whimmed” for vulgarity. All about B—BS and J-GS.)

  9. @Macumazahn

    The truly amazing thing is that it was written first in French without any “e”s, and then translated into English ditto. Just writing in “e”-less French is impressive.

  10. @the one they call Desanex

    At the laundromat I thought of another one. This one uses all the letters. PDQ is a real (though informal) word in all the dictionaries.

    BUD’S DOG POOPS RUG. PROUD BUD SCRUBS UP DOG’S POOP PDQ. GOOD JOB! GOOD GOD, DO BUD’S DOG’S POROUS DUGS DROOP!

    These make good tongue-twisters.

    • Thanks: Calvin Hobbes
  11. tr says:

    I remarked to my son that I might try to parlay my condition into some street cred by claiming to have been in a fist-fight. Junior: “Yeah! Don’t forget to end by saying, ‘But you should see the other guy!’”

    I’ve seen the film of you in a fight. My understanding is that the other guy is dead.

    • LOL: JMcG, Johann Ricke
  12. “By recent standards, his administration has performed creditably. It is led by serious people, unlike its predecessor.”

    You don’t have to like Biden to understand that statement is true (and recent standards is carrying a lot of weight here). The Trump administration was simply amateur hour – the nadir of incompetence and corruption. The amount of woke bullshit we now have to put up with everyday is basically a monument to what a failure Trump was.

    Biden did get us out of Afghanistan, which is probably the only real accomplishment any President can point to over the last 30 years. (and ironically the one decision The Economist types are angry with Biden about).

  13. I also like Martin gardners poetry collections, best loved poems and famous poems of bygone days. In fact they remind me a lot of derb’s poetry collection on his website. I love all that fusty Americana, like what “mumbltypeg” was. People were bored in those days!

    • Agree: AceDeuce
  14. Derb, the meat they carved off your beak? It’s an improvement.

  15. dearieme says:

    US PRS JRB: p, p, p ,p, poo, poo, p, p, p ….

    Pretty poor, except as a description of the daily round of ol’ Brandon.

  16. jivemi says:

    Been waiting for you to follow up your melanoma reference in a recent column and here it is. Congratulations on what was apparently a successful operation. FWIW had what proved to be an “invasive carcinoma” wart removed from my forehead a couple weeks ago. Underlying skin was OK, along with subsequent blood test and CT scan. Like yourself I’m fatalistic; your comment “If I didn’t have a loving wife to nag me, I would have no truck with doctors at all” expresses my sentiments exactly. And BTW mine is also Chinese (one-quarter anyway, which qualifies under today’s resuscitation of the one-drop rule) so it seems you and I are twice-blessed. Keep on truckin”!

  17. CRT lost in Virginia tonight. I’ll drink to that!

    • Agree: HammerJack
  18. Poor Bob’s pug dog poops odorous goo. Oops! “Gross booboo, bogus cur!” sobs Bob. Dour Bob’s job: scoop up spoor, pour suds, scrub or scour porous rococo rug so good odors occur. “Pro job!” purrs guru boss, “Curb pups so our suburbs spur proud juju!”

  19. @Jim Christian

    Jim, I meant “walk-out” as in just from the meeting, errr “training” session. If you are going to burn your bridges, I would agree with your ideas.

    You’ve got to be really careful though. For computer sabotage, I recommend cron jobs (basically set on a timer). In one job, just in case I got laid off when I didn’t want to be, I thought about having a cron job that would run to raise Holy Hell if I didn’t reset it each morning. However, I thought that I might forget to do that … Plus, they were good people then, and none of this BS was in the form it’s in today.

    • Thanks: Jim Christian
    • Replies: @Jim Christian
  20. Wokechoke says:

    Glimmer of hope in Virginia I see. The shift of the white women vote is notable. They realized they have white kids to protect at last.

    • Replies: @Bill Jones
  21. CORA’S B-CUP BOOBS POP UP; JOJO’S DD-CUP JUGS DROOP. “UP” CORA DUG POP GROUP GOGOS; DOUR JOJO DUG GROUP BOC*. CORA’S PUSS COCO PURRS; JOJO’S DOG CUJO BURPS. CUJO DUG UP COCO’S DOODOO.

    *Blue Öyster Cult

  22. Wokechoke says:

    It’s highly probable that the transsexual rapist of London County isn’t white. The demographics in the school district indicate that only 42% of the children are even white. 25% Asian 20% Hispanic and 7% black. No wonder they shuttled him off to another skoo to assault another girl.

    • Replies: @Jim Don Bob
  23. @Achmed E. Newman

    Mine weren’t walkouts, Acchie. I consider some of my operations from the inside to be some of my more noble endeavors. The phone bizz after the blowup of AT&T became the wild west, filled with crooks and assholes. They sold old equipment for new, lied about the product, put me in bad positions. I’m personally responsible for a couple of divorces and the closing of a half dozen telecom interconnect companies 80-95ish. I undermined NORTEL, BellSouth in DC, too. I hated them trying to make me a crook, too. My work finished, I always had another job. Eventually I hung with honest people in the name of a company called CompuPhone for 20 years. Run by a woman in the Toshiba Telecom realm, Dawn Spain, it was a picture of success, everyone in DC wanted to buy from a female-owned company. NOW, Planned Parenthood, the Jews, CATO, Brookings, Roger Staubach, dozens of others, we made a fortune, with integrity. And Dawn was no feminist. It was a glorious time, and fuck me, here came computers and the internet. DC was ground zero for ALL of it.

    I wish I could start anew.

  24. @Wokechoke

    Nah, it’s just more of the same.

    The Republiscam is a Cruz-lite do nothing open borders corporate grifter. The insane democrats have shafted the last of the Clinton crowd, look out below.
    The GOP normie will think he can win, all he has to do is vote harder, the Demoshites will think they can lose and so they must print faster.

  25. Yo Derb I know you wrote “We Are Doomed” but you telling me you haven’t read “Better Angels of our Nature: Why Violence has Declined,” with the long bit about noses getting lopped off in medieval contexts? Pinker even mentions “We Are Doomed” as “his favorite” doomer title in the book!

    I know it is long, but it just seems like such essential reading (and irrefutable, perhaps sadly, depending on your temperament,) it’s just almost bizarre to consider you and Sailer haven’t read it. I got weird habits now with audiobooks but I just listen to it over and over while doing other stuff, probably got through it 4 times.

    • Replies: @Wokechoke
  26. Wokechoke says:
    @Stillderswine

    Proportionately the 20th century was the least bloody century in human history. It’s true but, aha try telling anyone that. The 1600s were the most bloody per capita.

    • Replies: @John Derbyshire
  27. Wokechoke says:
    @Jim Christian

    Conservatives teachers approaching pension should turn up the dial to eleven, embrace CRT and cause performative impish mayhem, hypothetically.

  28. Derb,
    I am curious why there is an incision on your cheek as a result of
    removing or addressing a cm2 of tissue from your nose.

  29. MEH 0910 says:

  30. @Wokechoke

    It’s highly probable that the transsexual rapist of London County isn’t white.

    It’s a certainty that the transsexual rapist of London County isn’t white, otherwise we’d still be hearing about it from all the usual suspects.

    • Replies: @Wokechoke
  31. Wokechoke says:
    @Jim Don Bob

    I’ve seen conflicting leaked info on the race of this boy but it ought to be known. It sounds like a 50-50 case so far.

    • Replies: @Jim Don Bob
  32. (While we of course continue to hand out visas to Chinese students like Halloween candy.)

    That’s not necessarily such a bad thing. How else are our talent-spotters from Langley supposed to recruit men like this? My take on this subject is we should get them young. Certainly worked for the Communists in landing this big fish.

  33. @Wokechoke

    Instapundit has a link (https://pjmedia.com/instapundit/483542/) to a tweet with a picture of the perp’s mother who said, “She was 15. She should have been able to defend herself.” Mom is white, short hair, rainbow mask, with shoulder tattoos.

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