His tweet today on the three UCLA basketball players is an excellent example of what a master troller Trump is.
Like his trolling of the Mexican judge, the NFL ‘kneelers’, and San Juan’s “Nasty Woman” Mayor, he is a master at drawing out the contrasts between whites and non-whites.
Here’s a hilariously paranoid video accompaniment to Luke O’Brien’s caricature-laden piece in The Atlantic on Andrew Anglin (“The Making of an American Nazi“). As a bonus, it even includes an obligatory reference to Richard Hofstadter’s essay “The Paranoid Style in American Politics”. How insightful!
The reason, Luke, that the Alt Right is exploding on the internet is your type of P.C. paranoia has forced any and all discussion of white identitarianism out of polite society.
So, it moves underground and online. And they are better at this game than your Antifa heroes are.
Necessity is the mother of invention.
The last frontier for Progressive Sexual Wokeness to overcome (that is, until their vivid imaginations can conjure another ‘civil right’) is the full sexualization of children.
Some are trying to make the Great Leap Forward in France, which will greatly help accommodate the vibrantly diverse custom of child brides amongst the African and Muslim immigrants that are France’s future.
From The Daily Mail:
Protests have broken out in Paris as France’s justice minister prepares to set the country’s first legal age of sexual consent at just 13.
Activists argue that the age of consent should be set at 15 as they waved placards that read ‘for him impunity, for her a life sentence’ in reference to a 30-year-old man recently being cleared of raping an 11-year-old.
The lovely Nicole Belloubet
Justice Minister Nicole Belloubet told French radio that the age of 13 was a ‘limit that is worth considering’ for the upcoming legislation.
But she noted that judges should also have the ability to assess whether someone was old enough to give consent in individual situations…
It comes after French courts refused on two occasions recently to prosecute grown men for rape after they had sex with 11-year-olds because authorities couldn’t prove coercion.
It is already illegal in France to have sex with under 15s, but rape charges can only be brought if prosecutors can prove the act was non-consensual.
Amid public horror, the government is now drafting a bill to say sex with children under a certain age is by definition coercive…
Two recent court cases have heightened the debate over who is old enough to consent to sex under French law.
A jury last week acquitted a 30-year-old man who was accused of raping an 11-year-old girl in 2009, French media reported. The jury in the Paris suburb region of Seine-et-Marne found that while there had been a sexual relationship between the girl and the man, it did not constitute rape according to the legal definition of the crime in France…
A minimum age of sexual consent does not currently exist in French law. The law only says that an adult who performs a sexual act with a person under the age of 15 ‘without violence, coercion, threat or surprise’ can be prosecuted for ‘sexual abuse,’ not rape.
All Hail the Gods of Diversity.
CNN online has a story (with accompanying video) on slave auctions in Libya. You have to read between the lines, but the essence of the phenomenon is black African ‘refugees’ on their way to the Disneyland of Western Europe being captured by Libyan Arabs and sold into slavery.
IOW, something that has been going on for thousands of years.
As a result, don’t expect this story to actually air on CNN itself.
And let’s not let this little episode stop us from believing the Antebellum Porn myth about world slavery.
Neither should we allow ourselves to contextualize this story into the long history of Arab slave traders.
“First the Dominant Minority attempts to hold by force—against all right and reason—a position of inherited privilege which it has ceased to merit; and then the Proletariat repays injustice with resentment, fear with hate, and violence with violence when it executes its acts of secession. Yet the whole movement ends in positive acts of creation—and this on the part of all the actors in the tragedy of disintegration. The Dominant Minority creates a universal state, the Internal Proletariat a universal church, and the External Proletariat a bevy of barbarian war-bands.”
— Arnold J. Toynbee
As an aficionado of Beatlesque pop psych, “Blue Roundabout” is a true gem. Like The Easybeats and The Bee Gees, The Twilights were one of Australia’s answers to the Beatles, putting out only one album, 1968’s Once Upon A Twilight… (a really great, great record.)
The band tried to make it in Swingin’ London, but headed back to Australia in short order and broke up around 1969. Some cool Wikipedia facts:
One major achievement was the opportunity to play a week’s residency at Liverpool’s legendary Cavern club to an enthusiastic response. Thanks to their contract with EMI, the band also had the chance to record at the Abbey Road Studios, teaming with renowned producer-engineer Norman “Hurricane” Smith, who had been the engineer on almost all The Beatles 1962–1966 recordings and who went on to produce Pink Floyd‘s debut album (The Piper at the Gates of Dawn) and The Pretty Things classic psychedelic concept album S.F. Sorrow. The Beatles themselves were at that time recording their classic single “Penny Lane” and The Twilights were invited to sit in and observe their sessions.
The beginning of “Blue Roundabout” has some beautiful, natural distortion guitar chords against that Ringo ‘falling-down-the-stairs’ drum technique that became so big post-Beatles, before dropping into the main groove which features a driving, Macca-like, bass pedal bass-line. There’s an Eastern flair to the verses’ melody line. Piano accents come in mid-verse, and nice pop harmonies elevate the chorus. The song features a 3/4 time bridge section with a nursery rhyme melody, which contrasts with the 4/4 verses, conjuring the seminal influence of “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” with its 3/4 time verses and 4/4 time choruses. And the tone of that brief, post-bridge guitar solo is just fabulous.
My “Impressions of the Propertarian Institute & H. L. Mencken Club Conferences” is up at Counter-Currents:
Having gone to various types of conferences in my life — corporate, libertarian, etc. — I can say that the lasting benefits of these things tend to be less in the actual talks or panels themselves than in the social opportunities for hobnobbing, networking, and just plain socializing. Meeting like-minded individuals, discussing with each other how we arrived at our positions, exchanging book recommendations, and hitting the hotel bar is what you remember most about a conference.
In the past couple of months, I’ve gone to my first two Dissident Right-oriented conferences, Curt Doolittle’s half-day Propertarian Institute Conference on “Western Civilization: Circumventing the Frankfurt and Postmodern Schools” held in NYC in September, and the recent annual H. L. Mencken Club Conference in Baltimore which Paul Gottfried has been putting together for the past ten years and which just wrapped up this past Sunday.
So, in this spirit of the social aspects of conferences, below are some general impressions of my experiences at these two, with an emphasis on the sorts of people I encountered…
Read the rest here.
From even just its title, “Call of Duty, Wolfenstein, and the Joy of Killing Virtual Nazis”, you know what to expect from Simon Parkin’s piece in the The New Yorker (ahem).
There is the not insignificant dose of anti-German animus accompanying his review of Call of Duty: WWII:
Like its forebears, Call of Duty: WWII is more a theme-park ride than a depiction of the true chaos of war: you follow the drama along clearly defined rails, shooting the targets as they pop up, always listening for the telltale “ting” (reminiscent of a hotel concierge’s bell) that indicates an empty clip. Much of the game is delivered with the blunt spectacle of an action movie. In one scene, you chase a train full of Nazis while hanging out the window of a Volkswagen Kübelwagen. (Was there ever a more satisfying make of car to proclaim in a pantomime German accent?) But there are also more ponderous and thoughtful interludes, a fairly recent development in the series. In another scene, set in a frozen Belgian forest on the eve of the Battle of the Bulge, you thoughtfully place a case of ammunition beneath a squad-mate’s Christmas tree, which sags under the weight of its tin-can baubles. Then there’s the game’s epilogue, which, via a tour of an abandoned concentration camp, attempts to acknowledge the horrors of the Holocaust in the rather challenging context of a video game that, elsewhere, includes zombie Nazis.
Then, the real fun (if you consider ongoing efforts to normalize violence against the Alt-Right as fun) begins, with Parkin’s “review” of Wolfenstein II: The New Colossus:
Where Call of Duty: WWII focusses on the personal and politically vanilla motivations of its onscreen characters, another new game, Wolfenstein II: The New Colossus, deals explicitly with the theme ofresistance. Like Philip K. Dick’s novel “The Man in the High Castle,” it imagines an alternative reality in which Hitler has won the war and invaded the United States. Jack-booted German officers and hood-wearing Klansmen patrol the streets of America by day, and the game goes out of its way to portray them not as mere pop-up targets for the trigger-happy but as cruel, morally decrepit deviants who must be stopped because of what they stand for. This gives Wolfenstein II a resonance with the contemporary political landscape that its creators couldn’t have imagined when they began development. The recent rise of nationalism in Europe and North America has emboldened the far right to such an extent that conservative pizza-makers feel the need to publicly demand that Fascists stop buying their products. Thanks to the movement’s successful co-opting of young, disenfranchised men—a big video-game demographic—the use of Nazis as cannon fodder feels, ludicrously, somehow transgressive and confrontational.
Project much?
If Call of Duty’s marketing has stopped short of making explicit its resonance with contemporary events, Wolfenstein II has followed through. A viral campaign staged on Twitter encouraged players to “punch Nazis,” a dig at the white nationalist Richard Spencer, who was famously punched on Inauguration Day, and at the many white-liberal think pieces that have since suggested that reasoned debate is the appropriate response to an ideology premised on violent racial exclusion. The game’s tagline, “Make America Nazi-Free Again,” makes clear its developers’ feelings on Donald Trump. (Curiously, Trump’s brother Robert serves on the board of directors at ZeniMax, Wolfenstein II’s publisher.) The game itself apparently received some last-minute updates before it was released, including a newspaper interview with a “dapper young KKK leader,” another Spencer reference. Was this a cynical publisher’s attempt to profit from a few memes? Maybe. But if these games manage, even ambiently, to communicate why the Allied forces fought Fascism, as well as how and where they fought it, their status is surely elevated from slick shooting galleries to something morally instructive.
There is a flicker of hope in the piece’s last paragraph, which faintly alludes to the continuing blowback P.C. is experiencing in the gaming world:
For now, the culture war rages. Thousands of players who claim to want their games to be politics-free have taken the political action of “review-bombing” Wolfenstein II and Call of Duty: WWII in online stores, leaving disgruntled reviews in an effort to damage each game’s aggregate score and thereby hurt the developers financially. V-Day, it seems, is still some ways off.
For the likes of Simon Parkin, V-Day will only arrive when any and all strains of white identity are eradicated, once and forever.
One would’ve thought that a thoroughly jaded and ‘no standards’ Hollywood – which has basted in sexual libertinism for the better part of a century – would yawn at the accusations levied against Harvey Weinstein, James Toback, Kevin Spacey, Louis C.K., and a rapidly growing list of others.
But now we are seeing each of these individuals actively spurned by the West Coast Sewer. What gives? If the accused individuals were prosecuted in courts of law, I could understand, that would be different.
Is a modicum of moral etiquette still operating in Hollwood? Or is it solely a practical business decision? Might it be an effort to stave off further inquiries and turning-over-of-the-rocks that is nestled in La-La-Land (e.g., pedophilia and probably worse)? Or might it simply be part of the inexorable logic of P.C. cannibalism (the ceaseless virtue spiraling) which, in various forms, is consuming the liberal establishment? And how does all of this square with, for example, the undying adoration they hold for Roman Polanski?
Derb gets fired from NR for writing “The Talk“, but in the NYT, Ekow N. Yankah, a professor at the Benjamin N. Cardozo School of Law at Yeshiva University is given valuable weekend op-ed space to pen “Can My Children Be Friends With White People?”. It starts off as melodramatically as you’d expect:
My oldest son, wrestling with a 4-year-old’s happy struggles, is trying to clarify how many people can be his best friend. “My best friends are you and Mama and my brother and …” But even a child’s joy is not immune to this ominous political period. This summer’s images of violence in Charlottesville, Va., prompted an array of questions. “Some people hate others because they are different,” I offer, lamely. A childish but distinct panic enters his voice. “But I’m not different.”
It is impossible to convey the mixture of heartbreak and fear I feel for him. Donald Trump’s election has made it clear that I will teach my boys the lesson generations old, one that I for the most part nearly escaped. I will teach them to be cautious, I will teach them suspicion, and I will teach them distrust. Much sooner than I thought I would, I will have to discuss with my boys whether they can truly be friends with white people.
Yikes, that is some bad writing. And it’s all down hill from there.
History has provided little reason for people of color to trust white people in this way, and these recent months have put in the starkest relief the contempt with which the country measures the value of racial minorities. America is transfixed on the opioid epidemic among white Americans (who often get hooked after being overprescribed painkillers — while studies show that doctors underprescribe pain medication for African-Americans). But when black lives were struck by addiction, we cordoned off minority communities with the police and threw away an entire generation of black and Hispanic men.
America is ‘transfixed’ with the White Death? I would say that’s a bit of a stretch, and as a sociological phenomenon has only received any degree of mainstream attention post-Trump-victory.
Likewise, despite centuries of exclusion and robust evidence of continuing racism, minority underemployment is often couched in the language of bad choices and personal responsibility. When systemic joblessness strikes swaths of white America, we get an entire presidential campaign centered on globalization’s impact on the white working class. Even the nerve of some rich or visible African-Americans to protest that America, in its laws and in its police, has rarely been just to all has been met with the howls of a president who cannot tolerate that the lucky and the uppity do not stay in their place.
As against our gauzy national hopes, I will teach my boys to have profound doubts that friendship with white people is possible. When they ask, I will teach my sons that their beautiful hue is a fault line. Spare me platitudes of how we are all the same on the inside. I first have to keep my boys safe, and so I will teach them before the world shows them this particular brand of rending, violent, often fatal betrayal.
The hatred this guy displays toward whites is dripping from his pen.
And the woeful influence of Te-Genius Coates’ mix of bad high school poetry + an obsession with framing race relations in terms of its effect on black ‘bodies’ is evident in nonsense-like passages such as:
For African-Americans, race has become a proxy not just for politics but also for decency. White faces are swept together, ominous anxiety behind every chance encounter at the airport or smiling white cashier. If they are not clearly allies, they will seem unsafe to me.
Barack Obama’s farewell address encouraged us to reach across partisan lines. But there is a difference between disagreeing over taxes and negotiating one’s place in America, the bodies of your children, your humanity. Our racial wound has undone love and families, and ignoring the depths of the gash will not cause it to heal…
What’s surprising is that I am heartbroken at all. It is only for African-Americans who grew up in such a place that watching Mr. Trump is so disorienting. For many weary minorities, the ridiculous thing was thinking friendship was possible in the first place. It hurts only if you believed friendship could bridge the racial gorge…
I do not write this with liberal condescension or glee. My heart is unbearably heavy when I assure you we cannot be friends.
Likewise, I do not write this with conservative glee that I shall likely never be friends, nor attempt to be, with the likes of Mr. Yankah.
Normism: The Philosophy of Norm Macdonald, a short book I wrote about the late great comedian, is available on Amazon.
