Sunday Wrap-Up

26 06 2011

H/T Vlad TV.

*  Public transportation + Ubiquitous access to social media + Young blacks = Trouble.

Can you believe there are still people whining about the lack of public transportation and the “digital divide,” even after all this?

The end of civilization.

If I would have thought of talking that way when I was his age, my ass would have been made so red that I wouldn’t have been able to sit for weeks.

Why?  Because she has to.

But she still doesn’t get it:

She also said don’t blame police. Blame the abandoned buildings. According to her, these homes that have been left to decay are a haven for criminal activity across the city.

Sure, because every time I see an abandoned building, it makes me want to go out and burglarize people’s homes, kill people and rape women.

I’m for it, obviously.  But aren’t there a few more pressing problems in Texas that the right wing of the state’s body politic should address first?  Like, um, er,…the Hispanic demographic time bomb that’s about to go off.

Who’s going to want or care about Confederate Flag license plates when Texas is once again part of Mexico for all intents and purposes?

The Chicago Cubs are opposed to homophobic bullying.

You don’t say.

Its fans (homosexual and otherwise) actually wish the Cubs would get around to using its energies every once in awhile to win some ball games and maybe the occasional pennant or two.

That’s Native St. Louisan Dwight Davis to you.

Her father made his athletic reputation in tennis, yet she’s playing basketball.  I have made the observatin in this space that basketball used to be far more a girls and women thing than a boys and men thing, until around some point in the Great Depression.  Four years before this picture was taken, a Federal health booklet, mainly a response to a syphilis/gonorrhea outbreak in the United States that American soldiers brought home from WWI, but which also suggested healthy living habits, suggested basketball as a sport for girls and young women to play, not for boys and young men.  At least in the state of Missouri, most of the first high school basketball programs were on the girls’ side.  I wonder if Steve Sailer or anyone like him can come up with a reason why girls and women latched onto basketball first — Interestingly, Dr. Naismith invented basketball as part of his duties with the YMCA, the operative letter there being “M.”

A Houston area mall says no to sagging.  (I wish a certain St. Louis area mall would do likewise).  I’m sure the usual suspects are already starting to whine about “disparate racial impact,” when all the “saggers” have to do is pull their pants up, and they can come in.

I wonder if the owners of this mall know that certain people representative of a certain culture wouldn’t give up sagging for anything, and that this “no sagging” policy is a roundabout way to saying no young blacks or obnoxious Hispanics or w****r whites.

*  As a little bit of a history junkie, I relish articles like these.   I don’t ordinarily post them on this blog, because they’re usually too esoteric.  But I’m linking to this one for a reason — As an antidote to the relatively popular conspiracy theory that is fashionable in certain segments of the right wing that the whole WBTS and the secession of thirteen Southern states that preceded it was nothing more than a British conspiracy to “divide and conquer” the country that grew out of colonial possessions that did successfully secede from it four score years prior.

Petard.  Hoisted.  Own.

Red lights, red ink:  Los Angeles red light camera system costs more to acquire and operate than it takes in in red light ticket revenue.

The reason is obvious — It’s not that the “judges refuse to enforce” the tickets because the judges are being jerks, it’s because the red light cams can’t prove who is driving the car when it runs the red light.

Remember, an Arizona firm operates this system, and L.A.’s red ink is their black ink.  However, when L.A. wanted to “boycott” AZ over SB 1070, they let this contract continue, which led me to coin the phrase “girlcott,” a boycott without balls.

*  Andrew McCarthy has quickly become my favorite living public figure named McCarthy.  Kevin McCarthy?  Blah.  Gerry McCarthy?  Back to the nuttery with thee.

That said, after writing columns like these, it makes wonder who much longer he’ll be collecting a paycheck from NR.  They purged “Birchers” long ago, and in the 1990s, their second purge was of “white racists.”  I bet their third and next purge will be of “Islamophobes.”  Karl Marx said that civil rights was a revolution in permanence — He would have loved NR.

I agree.  But it got my mind to thinking — Other than the fact that the “gun show loophole” is to the left, especially the anti-gun nut left, what UFOs and Bigfoot are to George Noory and Art Bell, mythical entities on which to make a living, I don’t think most American gun shows are good places for real ne’er-do-wells to be buying guns, mainly because they would stick out like a sore thumb.  People who look like these two black ex-convict prison Muslim convert supposed proto-terrorists in Seattle, or any assorted black or South Asian or Middle Eastern Muslim terrorist types, or Mexican and other Hispanic gang-bangers, would illicit too much suspicion if they went to a typical American gun show, because they’d be surrounded by mostly middle and working class white men, whom we are all told are full of “isms” and “phobias” anyway.

*  Chocolate City Nagin says that in the aftermath of Katrina, paranoia was such a distinguishing feature of his mindset that he thought the CIA would assassinate him with poison darts.  Evidently, he overcame his paranoia, and now sort of ridicules his former mindset.

Yet, we’re to believe that President Bush and the Federal government cared too little about New Orleans in the days after Katrina made landfall.

Speaking of paranoia, he’s not totally over it yet.  The “incident” described in the last four paragraphs has been debunked over and over again.  That rumor was started by white leftists in order to “counter” the racial truths about black mobs and wildings and looting that were slowly leaking out, mainly in the British press.

William Jacobson is on the right track, but is waiting for the wrong train.  I think he’s asking the wrong question.

Whoever the Republicans nominate, they are also giving this person the authority under their party’s imprimatur to ask the American voting public to take the Presidency away from the first black President and give it to him or her, a white person.  (Sorry, Herman Cain doesn’t have a shot).  The proper question is:  Does any Republican Presidential candidate have the racial gonads to do this?  So far, I think the answer is a resounding “NO.”

*  Homespanic Depot’s very name is synonymous with Hispanic illegal alien day laborers.  If you live in an area with a signficant Hispanic population close enough to a Homespanic Depot, and you live in a state that doesn’t have SB 1070 style laws (part of AZ SB 1070 deals with day laborers, and that part of the law is being enforced in spite some some other elements currently under temporary judicial injunction), you’ll notice all the Hispanics hanging around on a Homespanic Depot parking lot waiting for someone to pick them up for temporary impromptu work.

This kind of news therefore does not surprise me.

*  “What’s the Best Way to End a Booty Call Relationship?”  My most recent relationship quickly (d)evolved into that sort of thing, the one with the red-headed woman that I met at Soulard Mardi Gras, if you follow me on Twitter.  You don’t have to worry about ending a booty call relationship, because usually what happens is that sometimes one but usually both parties simultaneously wind up realizing that they don’t have anything in common except for a desire for sex, and there’s only so much freakiness any two people or any one of two can tolerate.  As fun as both sex and freaky sex can be, it gets old after awhile if you don’t have something in common with the other person.  Booty call relationships spontaneously fall apart given enough time.



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