What’s your definition of bravery? Rushing into a burning building to save a sizzling baby? Holding off an entire platoon of soldiers from capturing your lonely position single-handed? Or sending out “intimate” images of yourself to an online sex blackmailer, then passing on the private contact details of your colleagues so the miscreant won’t expose you, thereby opening them up to subsequent attempts at criminal sexual manipulation, too?

That would appear to be the “brave” series of acts recently performed by William Wragg, a British Conservative Party MP who has just been exposed as having engaged with some unknown individual posing as an excitingly erect young man named “Charlie” on the gay dating app Grindr, to whom Wragg subsequently sent some unspecified “compromising things” that “Charlie” then threatened to reveal.

I am unsure why Mr. Wragg was so embarrassed by this prospect, given that every single public photograph of the man in existence is in some sense a massive dick pic already, but embarrassed he was. So embarrassed, in fact, he agreed to hand “Charlie” over the private telephone numbers of several of his fellow MPs, who then also subsequently received similar unwanted (or otherwise, reportedly) obscene images, hoping to drag them into a web of sextortion, too, potentially even by spies working on behalf of a hostile foreign power like China.

The Manipulation of Members
Wragg’s subsequent public admission of his auto-pornographic misdeeds was hailed as “courageous” by the British Chancellor, Jeremy Hunt—who, suspiciously, is himself married to a Chinese woman. Does she also have a secret miniature spy camera hidden away deep inside her kompromat-hungry vulva, thus explaining her husband’s subsequent failure to condemn Wragg for his own misdemeanors?

Other Conservative Members of Parliament agreed with Hunt’s over-forgiving assessment. Wragg’s friend Sir Charles Walker even went so far as to say it would be “madness” for the true “victim” here to resign over the incredibly trivial little issue of facilitating the online sexual harassment of others, as “there’s a lot of compassion out there” for him.

There certainly was in the Conservative Party. More surprisingly, there was an awful “lot of compassion out there” for him amongst rival parties too, whose politicians conspicuously neglected to call for Wragg to be fired.

This is rather odd because normally, whenever a British MP so much as farts in the street without prior official clearance in writing from HM the King, there are immediate calls for their equally immediate resignation. Never forget that 2020s Great Britain is the only country in human history in which a Prime Minister has ever been thrown out of office by his own MPs for the heinous sin of eating cake in an administratively inappropriate manner.

Beyond All Reform
In the very same week that Wragg was exposed as being so “courageous,” for example, another British political outfit, the Nigel Farage-backed Reform UK Party, unceremoniously ditched five prospective candidates for the infinitely more serious e-crime of making silly jokes on the internet.

Wannabe Reform MP Pete Addis, for instance, in the uncharacteristically coy words of the Daily Mail, made the suggestion that brown babies “came from a particular sex act”—that is, he typed out the forbidden words “Bum-sex, this is where brown babies come from!” on social media. If so, perhaps William Wragg is responsible for populating an entire Nairobi Maternity Ward? Another Reform candidate, Jonathan Kay, gave his online opinion that Africans had IQs “amongst the lowest in the world,” particular those sired anally by Mr. Wragg via the Nigerian version of Grindr.

A further insta-banished candidate, Ian Harris, liked a tweet from the leader of the Far-Right British National Party, Nick Griffin. How shocking. What did Griffin’s tweet say? Gas the Jews and turn them into swastika-patterned lampshades? No, it merely described the U.K. as being a “bankrupt, crime-ridden, LGBTQ-obsessed, multicult[ural] shit-hole,” which, thanks to fourteen straight (or otherwise) years of being governed by fake “Conservatives” like Big Willie Wank-Wragg, is simply an accurate assessment of the increasingly parlous state of the nation.

Announcing the sackings, a Reform UK spokesman reassured the public that “The Party will not be represented by racists, sexists and homophobes.” I’m not voting for you anymore, then—Nick Griffin sounds much more to my tastes.

So, in summary, you will now be thrown out of British politics forever for either eating cake, telling the simple truth, or making a racially tinged joke about the color of poo, but not for facilitating the potential sexual blackmail of your fellow MPs by the agents of Fu Manchu.

Indiscretion Is the Better Part of Valor
Although Wragg did eventually resign as vice-chair (with the emphasis upon the word “vice”) of the backbench 1922 Committee of Tory MPs, he had already announced he was stepping down as an MP altogether at the next General Election anyway—and, as said vote is only a few months away, and his Party is doomed to lose it very badly indeed, primarily because their ranks are full of venal idiots like himself, this is about as great a “self-sacrifice” as a soldier deciding to resign his commission and return back home five minutes before the Battle of the Somme was scheduled to kick off.

Only one Conservative MP had the guts to tell the actual truth about Wragg’s conduct—Andrea Jenkyns, who also received a free unsolicited porn pic to her phone thanks to Will’s “courage,” asking, “Why are they [Conservative Party high-ups] protecting Wragg? It’s bizarre…. How is it ‘brave’? The brave thing to do would have been to ignore the blackmail,” not to expose others to it too.

So, why were the Conservatives protecting him? Obviously, it was because William Wragg is a massive homosexual, and to criticize homosexuals for doing homosexual things, even when they endanger the professional and personal lives of others, or even the national security of their own country, is now politically impossible in British politics.

And, just to make absolutely certain he could never be sacked just for doing highly sackable things, Wragg had already made absolutely sure to get further excuses in early by publicly coming out in 2022 not only as gay but also as commendably mentally ill. Like his fellow past Conservative Party MP Sir Winston Churchill, Wragg told people he suffered from “the black dog” of depression. Unlike Sir Winston during his own Darkest Hour, however, Wragg then decided to take time off from his parliamentary duties in order to spend more time at home with his own penis, promising voters that, when he returned back to work, refreshed and re-jizzed, he would be able to “love life and [my]self a bit more.” Is that even possible?

A Moral Car Crash
Another Conservative MP who appears to love himself rather excessively is Jamie Wallis, who in 2022 displayed even more public courage than William Wragg by virtue of crashing his car into a lamppost so hard the pole snapped, then fleeing the scene on foot dressed in a black leather miniskirt, makeup, high heels, and pearl necklace (literal, not figurative). In court, Wallis denied he had been driving with undue care and attention, as the prosecution alleged, saying he had simply swerved into the lamppost to avoid a passing cat—a humanitarian action, really.

He further explained that he then suffered a sudden PTSD panic attack, after having recently met up with a fellow gay online, who had suddenly bummed him without a condom despite having politely been asked not to do any such thing. When approached by local residents wanting to check he was uninjured following his accident, Wallis claimed he thought they, too, were about to kidnap, kill, and gang-rape him, as so often happens to car-crash victims these days, at least in the fictional world of J.G. Ballard.

“I am sorry that it appears I ‘ran away,’ but this isn’t how it happened in the moment,” Wallis hilariously told the court. I would love to have seen that line tried back at Nuremberg: “I am sorry that it appears I ‘invaded Poland,’ but this isn’t how it happened in the moment.”

The presiding judge was having none of it. Whilst it could not be proved whether he crashed due to carelessness or the sudden presence of a teleporting cat, the judge found Wallis guilty of failing to report an accident, and of leaving his car in a dangerous position, fining him £2,500 and complaining he “didn’t find the defendant credible,” as “When I watched him give evidence it seemed to me he [was] fitting his own behavior around the behavior of PTSD,” i.e., playing the gay and mad cards and thinking nobody would dare contradict him in this excuse because loony homos are complete secular saints now. Wherever could Mr. Wallis have got hold of this particular idea? Oh yes, the House of Bloody Commons.

Gay Abandon—of the Crime Scene
Once news about his car crash leaked, Wallis released a long public statement in which he declared that “I’m trans. Or, to be more accurate, I want to be.” He can’t even do that properly, then. Wallis too had been blackmailed via embarrassing photos, he declared, going into wholly unneeded detail about his prior bum rape. He also said he had PTSD and declared that “I am not OK,” which I would have thought was already a given. Having thereby preemptively outed himself as (aspirantly) trans, depressed, and anally traumatized, Wallis rendered it politically impossible to receive any possible public criticism the next time he appeared in the Commons.

Accordingly, then PM Boris Johnson declared that “The House stands with you, and will give you the support you need to live freely as yourself.” Labour Party leader Sir Queer Starmer agreed, as did gay Labour MP Wes Streeting, who said he was “Sending you love and solidarity from the other side of the Commons,” before blowing him a little kiss and declaring that, if he was interested, he always wore a condom.

Streeting specifically acclaimed Wallis as “courageous,” whilst Plaid Cymru Commons Leader Liz Saville Roberts gushed buckets over his “extraordinarily brave message,” declaring her “Great respect for your personal courage.” Then-Conservative Party chairman Oliver Dowden, likewise, dropped his trousers and got hard, wet, and sloppy all over “your brave statement.”

Brave how? He literally fled the scene of his own crime and then got praised for it! I am reminded of the sycophantic minstrels’ song about their knightly but cowardly master Sir Robin in Monty Python and the Quest for the Holy Grail:

Brave Sir Robin ran away,
Bravely ran away, away!
When danger reared its ugly head,
He bravely turned his tail and fled…
Swiftly taking to his feet,
He beat a very brave retreat,
Bravest of the brave, Sir Robin!

At least Sir Robin’s minstrels were paid panderers, though. What’s the MPs’ excuse? A genuinely “courageous” politician within the absurdly homophilic context that now prevails across Westminster would be one who stood up in the House of Commons and courteously explained that, in any sane and rational society, dickheads like Wragg and Wallis would not automatically be allowed to get away with doing terrible things just because they happened to be a pair of giant benders.

I have no objection to gay MPs per se. I just don’t think they should be actively celebrated whenever they do something awful. What next? Giving Dennis Nilsen a posthumous Victoria Cross?

“Blue-eyed white devils” are not very popular nowadays. At least not with a recent migrant thrown off an airline flight for calling his fellow travelers thus. The man was drunk, or he might have been a New York Times reader. Or watched network news, especially NBC, because he really had it in for white people. I was not surprised when I read the item, especially the phrase “blue-eyed white devils.” It reminded me of an old jungle movie where mean natives were after the lovable Cheetah and her boss, the white-skinned, blue-eyed, loinclothed Tarzan.

Whites are under the gun today for a very simple reason: Their past implies a position of cultural supremacy, a fact mankind’s known past confirms. Beginning with the Greeks and followed by the Romans, close neighbors such as the Persians, Etruscans, and Carthaginians have only walk-on parts in history, other races such as the Phoenicians or unknowns in Africa not being a cohesive group, hence only the Greeks and Romans.

In parts of the world where writing was not used, we know very little, and most of us think of them as prehistoric. These prehistoric people are now among us, and no wonder they call us blue-eyed white devils. Today’s provocative displays of ethnicity, especially among onanist students, flatulent professors, and talent-free plebeian journalists, are a result of American universities teaching and placing Western Europe at the center of their world before 1492. It is the last positive and true thing universities have done, at least recently.

Mind you, the Greeks referred to those who spoke a different language as barbarians, intimating they were in some sense inferior, suitable for enslavement, for example. The subject of slavery is very au courant nowadays, with folks who would rather loaf than work demanding reparations, a racket that is rapidly becoming as fashionable as hating whites. But whites were enslaved in the past, starting with the Romans who had them rowing nonstop in their warships all over the Mediterranean. I know very little about China’s past, but slavery was certainly not unknown. But when I joked in another publication that the next time you encounter a Chinese gentleman do not thrust your dirty laundry at him, he is probably a diplomat, all hell broke loose. People nowadays are very, very touchy.

Never mind. We whites are here to take it with a smile, and to forget that the rich cultural history of, say, Islam and the slavery involved is treated as a sideshow. The fact that slavery has been a constant in almost every society since the dawn of recorded history is immaterial to those trying to profit. When the Muslim empires rose and expanded across West Africa during the Middle Ages, black slaves were traded nonstop, with blacks selling other blacks and Muslims selling blacks they had captured in conquest. For some strange reason, black American athletes take Muslim names and carry them with pride, starting with Muhammad Ali, obviously unaware of the facts I’ve just mentioned. Yeah, right.

The first whites who profited from slavery were Charles V and Ferdinand of Aragon, who shipped a couple hundred black slaves to the new world. The shipment became a nonstop one-way trip for hundreds of thousands of blacks sold to their North American clients by Muslim and other African masters. Reframing history is, of course, part of history, and today’s so-called minorities choose to ignore the truth while banging the drums against white devils. Bad-faith arguments can be found in every aspect of today’s news, with white policemen, white history, and white culture being at the forefront of hate. Starting with the once wonderful Disney company, now at the forefront of antiwhite content and antiwhite policies. A Disney cartoon such as Rise Up, Sing Out tells young children that “racism in the world affects me and you, and your skin color is what defines you.” Talk about child molestation, not even the Nazis had thought of brainwashing with cartoons.

Dividing Americans into white people who are stained and people of color who are innocent and pure is the left’s ghastly enterprise today. Whites are compelled to go to work and sit through Diversity, Equity and Inclusion humiliation sessions, while white government employees ditto, with Critical Race Theory shoved down their throats. The left in America wants to indoctrinate everyone to believe that what matters about a person is their skin color.

The reality is, of course, quite different. Black leaders have let their constituents down since the ’60s by not reading the riot act to them. Instead of preaching to young women not to have multiple children before marriage and so on, and to fatherless young men not to buy guns and join gangs, they blame whitey for their flock’s self-induced disasters. Biden is beholden to identity politics, hence the nation will remain split unless he’s rejected. And as long as black leaders continue to play the race card, blacks will continue to feel that the law and blue-eyed white devils are against them from the start.

The Week’s Most Disaster-Heading, Needle-Threading, and Matzo-Breading Headlines

PALM BLEEDINGS
Remember Dionne Warwick’s Psychic Friends? Well, Danielle Cherakiyah Johnson was a psychic enemy. A self-described “black astrologer, psychic, and recording artist” with 100,000 followers, Johnson, aka “Ayoka,” gave tips about life, love, and how to buy her self-produced album Crystal Balls and Woodpeckers.

Last month, Johnson became convinced that the then-upcoming solar eclipse signaled the apocalypse.

“Ayoka” was not A-okay.

Shortly before the eclipse, she began madly posting on X that everyone should kill themselves to merge with the “new world of magic” that would be birthed in the blackout.

“We Can do it!!! Can do it!!!! Believe!!!!! You magic is in what you believe,” she tweeted.” Then she stabbed her boyfriend to death.

His magic is in he no longer be live.

Remember Heaven’s Gate, the cult that committed suicide to board a spaceship inside the Hale-Bopp comet? Their leader was named Applewhite. Johnson was “stabbleblack.”

After giving her man a total eclipse of the heart (via butcher knife), Johnson tried to murder her two daughters, killing one and injuring the other, before taking off in her Porsche (there’s always income in astrology) and leading police on a high-speed chase.

Dionne Warwick? More like Flee-on, Warchick.

Driving recklessly, Johnson sped down Pacific Coast Highway. Sadly, even though “Ayoka” had a third eye, she still couldn’t see that tree. She was pulverized in a bloody collision.

Dionne Warwick? More like Die-on, Gore-ick.

Pity. She totally fit the bill for a diversity hire at Cal State Berkeley.

FATS DOMINO EFFECT
It’s impossible for anything to happen in the world without the media asking, “But how does this affect blacks?”

As reported last week, there were even news stories about how the solar eclipse affects blacks. And now we know the answer…they murder people and drive into trees.

Last week the L.A. Times finally got around to asking, “How does the new generation of weight loss medications affect blacks?”

Needless to say, the answer is, “It victimizes them with racism.” According to scribe Karen Kaplan, a woman so Jewish, Palestinians lose olive groves just by looking at her (she’s a multi-winner of the prestigious Nobel Oys), blacks are being deprived of the new meds even though they need them more, being fatter.

Kaplan’s source is the book 1,000 Yo Mama Jokes.

Still, it’s easy to understand why blacks want those meds: They sound black.

Repatha? She’s on welfare down at the projects. Jardiance? He’s a rapper. Januvia? That’s Jardiance’s baby mama. Bydureon? He’s the rival rapper Jardiance shot. And Evolocumab? Jardiance’s Africa-born attorney in the murder case.

Don’t forget O’zempic; he’s having a great season with the Knicks.

While it’s true that on average black Americans are more obese, perhaps instead of buying meds, they should amend their daily diet of fast food. When you’re willing to murder people over not getting enough guacamole, sweet-and-sour, or BBQ sauce, that might indicate you have a poor relationship with food.

Plus, Ozempic has several negative side effects. There’s “Ozempic face”—a sagging and premature aging of the skin. Even worse, there’s “Ozempic muscle loss,” which causes frailty and limb weakness.

Wait…maybe it’s worth it to subsidize Ozempic for black folks. Imagine how many fast-food workers could be saved if their biggest threat was a bunch of frail, saggy-faced Whitman Mayo-lookin’ mofos who don’t even have the muscle strength to throw a punch.

A prudent investment for America!

FELONIOUS FOLLIES
Last week’s news was jam-packed with immigrant crime stories. The Miami Herald ran a feature on a bloodthirsty Venezuelan immigrant gang called Tren de Aragua (Spanish for “we no blow leaves”). The story was covered by the Herald because the rest of the media headlined a black man who tripped on a curb (“KKKoncrete: The Lynching of Black Pedestrians”).

Meanwhile, the NY Post reported that an entire Queens neighborhood has become an “open-air market for migrant crooks.”

And it was such a nice borough.

Everyone’s talking about how El Salvadoran President Bukele used the harshest means to curb crime. But last week the world was reminded that there’s another nation where “tough on crime” reaches exceptional heights.

In Japan, death row wardens arbitrarily decide when inmates croak. Same-day executions are the norm. None of that “ten years to appeal.” Remember the joke about the Asian workman who’s told by his boss, “Go bring the supplies,” so he hides in a corridor and jumps out screaming, “Supplies!!!!” Well, Jap wardens love nothing more than to “supplies” convicts with “You die today!”

And the convicts have had enough. A group of ’em petitioned the Osaka District Court to outlaw the practice, claiming it’s “cruel” to know that any morning you might die, with zero advance notice. And maybe they have a point, considering that in Japan the average death row inmate was convicted for not bowing enough.

Last week the court handed a defeat to the inmates, explaining that with Nanking off-limits, Japs gotta be cruel to someone. Besides, what are Japs known for if not efficiency? The only surprise is that the death chamber isn’t a vending machine.

Compare that to what happened a month ago in Idaho when the lethal injection execution of murderer Thomas Creech had to be called off because doctors couldn’t find a vein. Even the least functional San Francisco junkie can find a vein. But American doctors can’t.

Japanese efficiency puts us to shame.

True story: Creech is on death row for beating his cellmate to death with a sock full of batteries. And talk about cruel! The attack just kept going and going and going…

GLOCK BLOCKED
In America’s version of China’s “social credit system,” everyone gets treated equally. The only problem is, their actions aren’t equal.

Last week Kansas Attorney General Kris Kobach, backed by GOP officials in a dozen states, sent an angry letter to Bank of America for apparently “de-banking” Christian and conservative organizations, with BofA having canceled dozens of right-leaning accounts for “operating a business type we have chosen not to service.”

One such de-banked org is Timothy Two, a Christian missionary group that was dropped for “proselytizing indigenous people.” De-banked as well? Tommy Tutone, dropped because “how long are you gonna milk that damn song?”

Also last week, a “prankster” called an 81-year-old man in Clark County, Ohio, telling him that somebody was on their way to his house to kill him. The jokester then used Uber to send an unknowing driver to the old man’s home.

Hilarity ensued. If by “hilarity” you mean violent death. The panicked old man, who’s white, shot the driver, who’s black. She died, and he, being white, will likely go to prison…surely a death sentence at his age. So, two lives lost.

Uber knows the identity of the account-holder who pulled the stunt, and last week the company assured the public “that account has since been banned.”

Take that, dude who destroyed two lives!

Picture him at home right now, devastated, punished worse than if sent to prison. “Now I have to use Lyft? But I still had a 50-percent-off credit with Uber [max savings $8 per ride, offer excludes peak hours, discount applies to fare and service fee but not tolls and taxes]. Oh, why did I choose a life of crime?”

That’s what passes for punishment these days—being banned from apps and services. Only problem is, it’s being applied to the law-abiding and lawless alike.

RULES FOR RACE-ICALS
In a move so stunning and brave it made every tranny in America bow their head in awe, all major American book publishers—which these days is a whopping four—have joined forces to sue Iowa over its “law that bans books depicting or describing sex acts from school libraries or classrooms.”

Penguin Random House, HarperCollins, Macmillan, and Simon & Schuster took time out from crushing small publishers to file the suit, in the name of free speech!

No word on when these champions of free thought will chime in on the books that are banned for sale to adults, like the tranny-critical When Harry Became Sally… and Takimag scribe David Cole’s autobiography Republican Party Animal and its sequel, I’m a Bitter Old Crank and I Despise Every One of You (that’s not just the book’s title but the entirety of its text).

One book that isn’t banned is the new release Race Rules: What Your Black Friend Won’t Tell You, by black author Fatimah Gilliam, a self-described “diversity disruptor.”

Last weekend ABC devoted an entire hour to Gilliam’s book, which is a list of rules for whites to follow so that they never offend a “POC.” These rules include:

“Stop hue-jacking” (and stop Hugh Jackman while you’re at it)

“When POCs say it’s racist, believe them”

“Don’t ask about someone’s name”

“Become a racism disruptor” (wait, if “disruptor” refers to stopping something, “diversity disruptor” doesn’t mean what moronic Gilliam intended)

Left off the list was “Keep the fries hot,” but that’s only because it’s a given.

Actual hilarity ensued during Gilliam’s book tour when radio host Jesse Lee Peterson had the temerity to bring up the white elephant in the room: Gilliam’s obviously not black. Rachel Dolezal is darker. Hell, Shaun King is darker. Gilliam claims to have “black genes,” but she almost certainly means “jeans.”

Oddly, Gilliam’s Rule #2 is “race is a social construct.” Yet when called out on looking whiter than Emma Stone, she cites genetics.

Racial frauds and trannies with anal sex manuals for kids…their books get lauded and defended. All other authors are truly anally boned.

My memory is good in almost exact proportion to the uselessness of the information I call upon it to memorize. Why this should be, I do not know; perhaps it is an unconscious rejection of utilitarianism as a guiding principle of life.

In like fashion, I have spent a considerable proportion of my allotted time reading about current events over which I have no control and upon which I can have no influence, and which will affect me only marginally if at all. Does one have a duty to keep oneself informed about what is going on in the world, considering also that, however hard one tries, one cannot keep abreast of everything? For all I know, a terrible epidemic may be raging in some corner of the world, killing multitudes; but why should ignorance not be bliss, where knowledge will make no difference?

An old friend of mine called me the other day and asked me whether I thought that he should drink his oldest vintage port (1955) before the Third World War broke out: It would, after all, be a shame to die without having drunk it. I could not advise him since I am not gifted with exceptional foresight. My predictions are usually wrong, partly because I mistake, as many people do, projections for predictions.

For example, I remember predicting, on the occasion of my first visit to Egypt in 1982, mass famine in the near future because the population was growing by 3 percent a year while the area available for cultivation was decreasing by 1 percent a year. While one could not say that things have gone swimmingly in Egypt ever since, there has been no such famine: There are too many variables and imponderables in human history to be able to predict its course by recourse to the simple (and simplistic) logic that I employed.

My friend with the vintage port was worried that the situation in the Middle East would develop into the Third World War. It so happened that, at the very time he phoned me to ask for my advice on his important dilemma regarding his port, I was reading a book on the current, so far regional, war. It was by the excellent French academic and commentator on the region, Gilles Kepel, titled Holocausts: Israel, Gaza and the War Against the West.

This author, it seems to me, is fair-minded and prepared to follow the evidence wherever it may lead (he has therefore to live under police protection and was excluded from his university post). The convolutions of Middle Eastern affairs are so intricate that they can make one dizzy, we who long for a quiet and simple life, and generally achieve it. Hypocrisy is too weak a word for the changing alliances, betrayals, reconciliations, underhandedness, double-dealing, disinformation, and inflated rhetoric of the politics of the region. Neither is the expression double standards quite adequate to describe the way in which events are assessed from a moral point of view. Kaleidoscopic standards would be a far better term.

Kepel has for many years been a proponent of the view that the religious ideas and beliefs of Islamists are to be taken seriously, even if they are intellectually nugatory from the rational point of view, as a factor—perhaps the most important factor—in the creation of the present conjunction. We in the West, having undergone a long and unidirectional process of secularization, now find it difficult to believe that anyone, apart from a few very odd people, could take religious millenarianism or utopianism seriously. Just as people at one time could not believe that Hitler meant what he said, so we cannot believe that the words of Yahya Sinwar, the leader of Hamas in Gaza, are other than mere rhetoric.

According to Kepel, among the deceived was the Israeli prime minister, Mr. Netanyahu. He thought that Sinwar was essentially a windbag and his threats rhetorical. Therefore, he thought it safe to station most of the Israeli army in the north of the country, to protect the settlements on the West Bank. This was important to him because his whole government relied on the support of those small political parties that were most in favor of such settlements; and this in turn enabled, or emboldened, Hamas to attack Israel and commit its atrocities on Oct. 7 of last year. An additional consideration for Netanyahu was that, if he lost power, he would face certain legal difficulties that might end in his imprisonment. Politicians don’t just think of their countries, they think of themselves, though they are apt to conflate the two.

Kepel’s book stimulated me to think of the problem of proportional representation. The two-party system, in which political competition is reduced to that between two parties in which winner takes all, and which cannot possibly represent all shades of opinion on all important subjects, means that large numbers of people may feel unrepresented, or indeed totally ignored; but in a system of proportional representation, in which many more opinions enter the fray, the tail may end up wagging the dog, and a small minority of near-lunatics may become disproportionately influential. This is because its support is necessary for the survival of a coalition government, led usually by someone who is avid for power, or at least office, and would rather have the support of the near-lunatics than lose all possibility of power. Politicians, at any rate successful ones, do not go into politics to play eternal second fiddle. Mr. Netanyahu is said now to enjoy the support of only about 15 percent of his countrymen, but it is in the nature of a constitutional order, and perhaps an inevitable weakness of it, that a country may be legitimately led by a leader who is disliked or even hated and despised. The problem is that the alternative to this, constant palace revolution or constant referenda, is probably worse. I can see no perfect solution to these dilemmas.

But now it is time for a real decision, one that I can (within limits) deeply affect: What am I going to have for lunch?

Theodore Dalrymple’s latest book is Ramses: A Memoir, published by New English Review.

For years I worked as police reporter for The Washington Times, spending long hours in squad cars in various cities getting to know cops well. Now I listen to nice white people in the suburbs, and self-assured voices from NPR, talking about the police. They know nothing of the world where the police work. They do not know the bad sections at 3 a.m., the yawning dark alleys and lightless facades of buildings, the boredom, and the radio, the soul of a squad car, the laconic chat of the net. Slow night.

Not all are slow. I rode one night with the Arlington force, the Virginia county just outside of Washington. The call came: “Man down, gunshots reported.” Dark residential street, tree-lined, too late for the suburban houses to have lights. The guy, maybe Hispanic or Asian, was on his back, breathing but not moving. The bullet had cut a furrow in the top of his head, brains swelling out like pink vaginal lips. We listened to the stertorous breathing. There was nothing to do. The ambulance came and the parameds worked on the guy. There was no point in it, but it is what they are paid to do.

You see things you don’t want to see. On a foot beat, in the Shaw district of D.C., late, streets empty, we found a blonde woman, maybe 30, crawling on the sidewalk, drunk, bottle of whiskey clutched in one hand. Late-stage alcoholism. Seeing a cop, she crawled toward an alley, hugging her bottle. She had wet her pants.

We walked on. The cop wasn’t heartless, but it was Saturday night, the jails and shelters would be full, and there is nowhere that wants a terminal alky. What was her story? Bad marriage? Lost her job? Everybody has a story.

From the Virginia side of Key Bridge across the Potomac, a bike path runs through grass past the Pentagon to the Washington Sailing Marina. Someone had reported a foul smell. I and three cops went to investigate. Following the smell, we found a dead guy in a clump of bushes. Judging by the pistol next to him, he had offed himself. A dead guy after several days in the August sun is not attractive, skull white where not covered by gunch remnants sliding off.

Cops see this stuff. You can’t let it get to you so you do the macho thing. So do female cops. This time someone said, “Maybe mouth-to-mouth would save him.” There was grossed-out laughter. It wasn’t contempt. Nobody thought the dead guy was funny. But you can’t let it get to you. It turned out later that he had a hard breakup with his girlfriend.

You probably don’t know what “immersion cuffs” are. If you hold a little girl’s hands in boiling water, the submerged part puffs up pink, like cuffs. That there is a name for this suggests that it is not isolated. Cops know about these things. They see them. It is why they grind their teeth at night and have a high divorce rate. One cop told me that he had turned down a job on the child-abuse unit because he would kill somebody. Abuse by police can have its appeal.

A Maryland cop once invited me to his home and was showing me photos of things he had seen on the job. One was of a human face that had been completely skinned with an X-Acto knife. See? It’s not a job. It’s an adventure.

In the sprawling crazy nights in the big cities, a camaraderie unites the three street trades, police, fire, and ambulance. If the crews do not know each other personally, which they often do, there is a unity that comes of sharing a world that nobody else knows. You likely have never tried to intubate a man copiously spewing blood from his mouth after going through a windshield, crushing his chest. You might think something wrong with people who can stand around such a scene talking about are you going to Jack’s barbecue Saturday? You can’t let it get to you.

Things can be amusing in a screwy way. Ages ago, when Reagan emptied the asylums onto the streets, one of these mandated escapees was a woman who entered office buildings and turned off lights, announcing herself as being with Trash Police, who don’t exist. Finally, the police told me, she decided to help the telephone company by putting on a pair of pole-climbers in one of their trucks and began trying to climb a pole. This allowed the cops to invoke “danger to herself or others” and take her off the street.

The racial element is always there with police because almost all the crime is perpetrated by blacks. At NPR, saying this would elicit cries of racism. NPR does not live in the real world. Cops do. For them, the racial makeup of crime is a matter of daily observation. Blacks dislike cops and cops come not to like blacks. The black world deep in the big cities is another country, another civilization, and immiscible with the outlying white culture. Black cops know this as well as white cops know it.

Sometimes you can just about lose all belief in human decency. The small black girl found in a Dumpster, wrapped in garbage bags, something like 30 pounds underweight for her age. She had rope burns on her wrists, some fresh and open wounds, others just scars. It turned out that she had been kept always in a closet and barely fed. She died, it was concluded, because to muffle her cries her parents had put her in a hooded jacket backwards and she had suffocated.

Think what you will of cops. They are not perfect. But they are out there, day and night, amid the blood and snot and cum, the screaming freshly raped girls and the desperate old women dying amid their vodka bottles and the insane and miserable. Try it, and then judge.

Inundated by the constant tidal wave of horrible news hitting us here at home, as well as abroad as the world finds itself in the express lane toward a massive regional Middle East War that could easily blossom into a global conflict, the relief and schadenfreude that comes along every once in a great while these days with even the smallest scrap of good news is always welcome. In fact, there are a couple of such stories that have been flying under the radar that certainly could fall into this category. What’s more, many of my estimable colleagues believe they’re not merely anecdotal but strongly indicative of major societal trends that have the potential to blossom into popular movements to stop and perhaps reverse our seemingly inexorably leftward trajectory.

At least, that’s what they appear to be on the surface. I too am desperate to cling to these and any optimistic predictions, but my optimism is tempered by the knowledge that the ideologically driven incompetence and lust for absolute power of the anti-American Democrat-Left flies in the face of all logic and reason. The era of Bill Clinton-esque “triangulation,” even if it meant just a temporary retreat or just a short pause of that leftward trajectory, is now an unacceptable price to pay by those who now run that party and movement. They’re within a red nether hair’s breadth of grabbing the brass ring of permanent absolute power, and because they have the instrumentalities of government and the private sector at their command to achieve it—and have wielded them nakedly and shamelessly—traditional political considerations are not only moot, but could be toxic, politically and otherwise.

The first case in point is the full-court press by the Joey Sponge-Brain Sh*ts-Pants Junta to dismantle the fossil fuels, abolish the internal combustion engine, and replace both with electrically powered vehicles. Regardless of the fact that the infrastructure to charge millions of EVs is nonexistent, ditto battery technology in terms of range and safety, and most of all the cost of owning an EV makes them out of reach of the average consumer, they are hell-bent on imposing them on America. Because of this, the American consumer has rejected EVs to the point that every major manufacturer, from Mercedes-Benz to Toyota and GM, is either massively scaling back or outright eliminating EVs from their lineups.

And perhaps the best-known brand in that sector, Tesla, is now following suit:

Tesla, the most iconic of EV manufacturers, seemed to be avoiding this skid. Unfortunately, the realities of being a niche market with every increasing cost associated with production have caught up with the firm headed by billionaire Elon Musk.

“Tesla will lay off more than 10% of its global workforce, according to a memo sent to employees by CEO Elon Musk. The company’s shares closed down more than 5% on Monday. ‘As we prepare the company for our next phase of growth, it is extremely important to look at every aspect of the company for cost reductions and increasing productivity,’ Musk said in the memo obtained by CNBC. ‘As part of this effort, we have done a thorough review of the organization and made the difficult decision to reduce our headcount by more than 10% globally,’ the memo said.”…

Furthermore, EV sales continue to decline and other car companies are beginning to make alternative production plans as a result. Until there is a charging infrastructure network that can accommodate the entire American public, an electric grid that can handle capacity, enough natural resources to build models at a moderate price, and technology that doesn’t ignite when it gets wet or won’t start when it gets too cold, this may be the beginning of the end of the road for EV-mania.

Well, except for in the minds of lunatic eco-activists who are pushing their insane “Net Zero 2050” agenda. If we could power cars with their hot air and smugness, then we would be able to run our vehicles forever.

On a recent Cut Jib Newsletter podcast, historian and science blogger Bob Zimmerman and I affirmed that we’re actually fans of Elon Musk, mostly because SpaceX is a giant thumb in the eye of the Junta’s drive to wipe out independent, free-market entrepreneurialism as well as for X/Twitter being perhaps the last large bastion of free speech open to conservative voices of opposition. As for Tesla, well, EVs are nothing more than souped-up golf carts; status symbols that at present are just not capable of supplanting gasoline- and diesel-powered vehicles. That assessment is the sane, rational one. And yet, the Junta and the enviro-Marxists persist. Hint: They do so for anything but altruistic reasons like saving the planet by stopping so-called “climate change.”

Hold that thought for a while as we examine another category entirely, the entertainment industry. The collapse of the movie industry as a whole, with Disney being the prime example, as a result of backlash from ticket buyers and content subscribers against “woke” agitprop strangling golden-egg-laying geese from the Marvel Universe to Star Wars to James Bond and everything in between, should be seen as a lesson to the Bob Igers and Kathleen Kennedys of this world. Should be.

Before answering that question, here’s another little bit of schadenfreude to dunk into your mug of “covfefe”:

Left-wing billionaire Jeff Skoll’s woke film studio Participant is reportedly shutting down operations and eliminating most of its staff—the latest victim of Hollywood’s sharp downturn that has seen a bloodbath of layoffs and budget cuts.

Participant, founded in 2004, often financed projects with social justice and globalist themes, including former Vice President Al Gore’s climate change documentary An Inconvenient Truth and its sequel. Other titles include the Obama’s Netflix documentary American Factory and the Ruth Bader Ginsburg doc RBG….

Hollywood’s tectonic shift to streaming entertainment has wreaked havoc with the specialty movie model that depends heavily on theatrical distribution to generate word-of-mouth business and awards-season buzz. Specialty titles that would once have received a theatrical release now almost all end up on streaming platforms in lieu of cinemas.

Participant also experienced a number of high-profile box office flops—including the environmentally themed Dark Waters, starring Mark Ruffalo, and the Matt Damon thriller Stillwater…. Hollywood studios have been hit hard in the past year, enacting deep budget cuts amid a perfect storm of economic chaos that includes Americans continuing to cancel their cable TV subscriptions, the steep downturn in TV advertising, and streaming losses in the billions of dollars.

For sure, the rise of alternate personal venues from computers to smartphones to streaming services absolutely put pressure on traditional movie theaters. Yet this was a natural evolution and change of the culture as to how the consumer, now younger and more tech-savvy, wanted to consume/experience entertainment. The COVID lockdowns, gradually rising and then skyrocketing costs since the installation of Joey Sponge-Brain Sh*ts-Pants, plus the rejection of the majority of normal Americans of ham-fisted “woke” propaganda are the death knell of Hollywood as it was. Or at least should be. Here too, they still persist.

Yet again, the question is why? Why continue to waste billions of dollars producing films and shows or EVs no one wants to see and no one wants to drive? Why take the far-and-away No. 1-selling beer in the nation and kill it along with tainting all the other labels of Anheuser-Busch?

Elon Musk and Tesla aside, since he is essentially an enemy of the State, the reason is because ideology now trumps sanity. Plus the fact that the corruption that has all but destroyed the American system of government and the Constitution has crept into the so-called private sector mostly via at least three generations of academic brainwashing.

Considering brainwashed Marxist automatons and power-mad venal tyrants control virtually all of the instrumentalities of government that, because of their lack of ethics, morals, aforementioned lust for power, and in-your-face hatred of this nation, people, history and culture as founded, and now their willingness to use it to crush us like insects as can plainly be seen with Donald Trump’s show trials among many other things, nothing can deter them from flooring the gas pedal (or the potentiometer?) and hurtling the car into the Grand Canyon.

Even if woke studios go broke, even if EVs are no longer to be made, that does not mean ipso facto that non-woke if not pro-American Judeo-Christian-affirming or plain old normal stories will be made or that a return to the sanity of gasoline-powered vehicles is guaranteed.

Quite the opposite. It makes no difference. The bottom line is total control of the citizenry by an all-powerful State. How? By seizing control of “the means of production” and prohibiting any alternatives. Any voice that challenges accepted State policy or woke worldviews will be silenced. Total control is the goal. Whether you refuse to purchase an EV because you don’t like it or because you can’t even afford one—coupled with the strangulation of the internal combustion engine, leaving no practical, affordable alternatives—you are essentially stranded in place, so the end result is the same: total control by the State.

Remember, it’s hard if not impossible to subjugate a highly mobile society. QED.

Soon the government might shut down your car. [So-called quote-unquote “president”] Joe Biden’s new infrastructure gives bureaucrats that power. You probably didn’t hear about that because when media covered it, few mentioned the requirement that by 2026, every American car must “monitor” the driver, determine if he is impaired and, if so, “limit vehicle operation.”…

The kill switch is just one of several ways the government proposes to control how we drive. California lawmakers want new cars to have a speed governor that prevents you from going more than 10 miles per hour over the speed limit.

That would reduce speeding. But not being able to speed is dangerous, too, says Fix. If “something’s coming at you, you have to make an adjustment.” New cars will have a special button on the dash. If you suddenly need to speed and manage to find the button when trying to drive out of some bad situation, and it lets you speed for 15 seconds. For all these new safety devices to work, cars need to spy on drivers. Before I researched this, I didn’t realize that they already do….

Biden’s infrastructure bill also includes a pilot program to tax you based on how far we drive.

“A mileage charge seems fair,” I say to Fix. “You pay for your damage to the road.” “Correct,” she replies. “But when you start allowing them to do this, they could say, ‘We don’t want you to buy a firearm.’… ‘We don’t want you to go to that destination. So we’re not going to let you start your car.’ It’s about control.”

I push back. “They’re not controlling me.”

“They can,” she replies. “Wait until you get a bill for your carbon footprint. ‘You’re at your maximum for carbon credits. We’re not going to let you drive today! Take the train. Take the electric bus.’”

“This is paranoia,” I suggest.

“Maybe,” says Fix. “But so far, everything that I’ve said about these things, each step keeps coming through.”

“Control” was supposed to be a Janet Jackson song, not a how-to-do-it manual.

Yakov Smirnoff, a refugee from the old Soviet Union who was Borat decades before Borat, and unlike Borat actually funny, making a highly successful career as a stand-up comic poking fun at the crumbling former communist dictatorship, famously quipped:

In Russia we only had two TV channels. Channel One was propaganda. Channel Two consisted of a KGB officer telling you: Turn back at once to Channel One.

So, a kill switch on a car to prevent you from driving too fast, or even driving at all. Media that prevents you from expressing your own opinion or hearing opinions and messages contra the Junta. Banks and credit card companies that monitor what you purchase and to whom you donate. At some point, if you want to donate to Trump or your pro-life charity, the bank will not process it, via its own “kill switch.” For your own good, of course!

On the classic TV show Get Smart, Control were the good guys and Kaos evil. But in this case, the invisible hand of Adam Smith—the millions of individual choices made by millions of individuals—is in one sense a form of chaos. That is, a controlled form of chaos where many individuals through their freedom of choice control the market and everything that flows from it. That kind of elegant, natural freedom and independence is in direct contravention of those who have unleashed ideologically driven chaos by destroying freedom of choice in the quest to “control” individuals as just one mass of a populace. Again, for our own good because we’re too stupid and unenlightened to know what’s good for us.

Children guided and molded by benevolent parents? Or sheep herded to the slaughter?

(On a point of personal privilege, I have been absent from these pages as well as from my own blog for a few weeks due to a serious medical situation that for the time being is under control—no pun. I’m in good spirits, feeling no pain, and not impaired in any way that impedes my daily activities, at least for the time being. I will continue to post essays until my consult with the doctors next week, to see whatever treatment lies ahead. Hopefully, it will be as minimally invasive as possible, and I can be back up and writing on a regular basis as soon as possible. That said, I can’t begin to express my gratitude for all the prayers and words of encouragement I’ve received and truly believe, God willing, they do work miracles.)

A well-dressed gentleman in New York today looks like a shadowy figure in a sepia-colored old photograph. I’ve been here for two weeks and have yet to see anyone wearing a suit and tie, except when I passed a window and saw a reflection of yours truly. Between Patagonia fleece vests donned by Wall Street hustlers and the schlubby hoodies of Silicon Valley wannabes, the city is slob heaven, its innocence, spontaneity, and reckless promise that once defined the city long gone.

The youth of the place, needless to say, makes for a bright future, except that over 70 percent of a major high school class in the city thought Russia fought America in World War II. Yep, the city’s regressing, but the black mayor, the black attorney general, and the female governor of the state are not to blame. It’s racism and sexism that’s done the city wrong. You’re getting this invaluable info from Taki, a man who is never wrong, and if I say racism and sexism are to blame, so be it.

Just a walk around town reveals there’s no such thing as an enlightened urban oasis despite the billions poured in annually to help minorities who look to me like great majorities by now. What I actually see is a dystopian, garbage-filled place where crime has soared 53 percent, and whose affluent citizens are fleeing as if the place were San Francisco. Progressives who rule the city forgot that law and order are essential for progress of any kind, so now what we have is crime, dirt, noise, and the biggest-spending state and local government in America, with a daily life that often looks as though no government is in charge at all.

Oh yes, I almost forgot. Noo Yawk is also becoming a nudist colony, with subway stations turning into heroin shooting galleries and half-naked addicts roaming the human-feces-covered platforms. Exhausted passengers, many with children in tow, rush past the freaks, stepping on the needles that cover the ground while holding their noses. The subways descended—exploded, rather—into drug dens during the pandemic, especially uptown around 181st Street in the Bronx and downtown near Greenwich Village. The ones I feel the most sorry for are the cops who have to deal with these animals, and I apologize to my four-legged friends. It all has to do with getting something for nothing, the welfare trap, the so-called Great Society of Lyndon Johnson that became a pitfall for millions of Americans, mostly black Americans.

The great New York senator Patrick Moynihan warned against it and suggested “benign indifference” but was called a racist. Basically, what the “Great Society” managed to do was to endow even those with a strong work ethic with the apathy that comes with government assistance. The more children one had, the more free meals and moola. At least Bill Clinton did something about it, linking assistance with efforts to work. Now we’re back to the bad old ways, with Biden giving money away as inflation is going out of style. And people have learned to work the system. And those who know how to work it pass it down to those around them. How can I get more free stuff, more free housing, more food stamps, more cash? Young people who are willing to go out and get a job are advised by their elders not to because it could jeopardize the government assistance the family is receiving.

The culture of dependency is obviously most prevalent in the black community, hence the crime figures that show African Americans leading the numbers of those incarcerated. It is very depressing, but not as depressing as the thinking of white liberals who blame racism for black crime. The left in America, starting with The New York Times, want to indoctrinate Americans to believe that the only thing that matters about someone is his or her skin color. Critical Race Theory is poisoning the country with a theory that the whites are bad people while the blacks and browns are innocent and pure and victims. The kind of brainwashing that is going on in America today makes Nazi and communist ideology seem feeble. The irony that Times writers and their ilk know better makes it an even bigger crime. The media in America is a horror show, with gutless blow-dried know-nothings raving against Trump, whites, and anyone earning a good living, and let’s not forget those ghastly people who fought against the North back in 1861.

The only way out of this terrible predicament I cannot put in writing. Biden is beholden to identity politics, so if he wins, which I believe he will, alas, it will only get worse. As I said, I cannot write what my solution is because it entails putting lotsa people away for good. As I said, it is very depressing and it is bound to get worse. Unifying the country is an impossible dream, and it will only happen when everyone including phonies like Zuckerberg and Bezos joins the welfare crowds.

O.J. Simpson’s death last week reminded me of the glorious period in American history when we finally got liberals to stop their infernal race baiting. It came right after O.J. was found not guilty of a double murder he’d obviously committed. That too-brief suspension of racial agitation, what preceded it, and what followed, is recounted in thrilling detail in my book, “Mugged: Racial Demagoguery From the Seventies to Obama.”

For 30 years, the nation’s cities were maelstroms of race riots and inner-city violence, egged on by feckless politicians and an army of journalists scribbling mad defenses of the perpetrators.

In other words, life was much as it is today. Every police shooting of a disaffected inner-city youth was instantly branded an act of unadulterated racism, every racist accusation presumed true, and every crime committed by a disaffected inner-city youth denied.

Eventually, the truth would come out, disproving the official version, whereupon the story would simply fade from the news, as if the media were reading a bedtime story to a child, whispering the ending and tiptoeing out of the room.

(Speaking of which, where are the big, blaring headlines following up on the shooting at the Kansas City Chiefs parade in February, the mass shooting in a New York City subway in 2022 and the 2021 Christmas parade massacre in Waukesha, Wisconsin?)

The main job of a journalist was to gin up mobs of angry disaffected inner-city youths, with prizes awarded to those who managed to incite the most destructive riots.

In 1991, Los Angeles’s KTLA television network edited the tape of police officers subduing a deranged suspect, Rodney King, cutting about 10 seconds from the beginning. Viewers never saw King lunging at an officer, taser darts hanging from his body. This made the cops’ response look like a senseless act of police brutality, rather than the officers’ final efforts to subdue a powerful and violent suspect after all other methods had proved futile.

When the jury acquitted the officers — as everyone who actually watched the trial thought it should — the resulting riots left 63 people dead, thousands injured and did a billion dollars in damage. (See especially Roger Parloff’s and Lou Cannon’s reports on the trial.)

KTLA won a Peabody award for its presentation of the tape.

The most enduring image from the L.A. riots was the savage beating of Reginald Denny, who’d inadvertently driven his 18-wheeler into the middle of the mayhem. Four black men pulled Denny from the truck’s cab and savagely beat him, smashing his head with a 5-pound oxygenator and a claw hammer. With the world watching live footage of the riots, Damian “Football” Williams dropped a cinderblock directly on Denny’s head, fracturing his skull in 91 places, then did a victory dance around Denny’s lifeless body.

Or, as Rep. Maxine Waters put it, “there were mothers who took this as an opportunity to take some milk, to take some bread, to take some shoes.” No sooner was Williams arrested than Waters showed up at his mother’s house, offering to help him, saying, “her doors were open.”

This was life in America, pre-O.J. verdict.

But then at 10:07 a.m. on Oct. 3, 1995, the world changed, when an estimated 150 million people turned on their TVs to watch the verdict in the O.J. Simpson murder trial: not guilty.

Ninety-five million Americans had watched the slow-speed car chase that had ended with O.J.’s arrest.

Thanks to live television coverage of the trial, nearly everyone in the country had seen the same evidence the jury saw, including O.J.’s blood all over the crime scene.

People saw the Black Congressional Caucus give O.J.’s defense lawyer, Johnnie Cochran, a standing ovation three days before his closing argument.

They saw the juror who was a former Black Panther give O.J. the “black power” salute after the verdict was read.

And they saw blacks across the country cheering the outcome — most shockingly at the esteemed, historically black Howard University Law School. Witnessing black law students whooping and applauding O.J.’s acquittal had the same emotional impact as seeing Muslim and BLM college students celebrate the Oct. 7 attack on Israel.

In black neighborhoods throughout the country, car horns honked in victory when O.J. was acquitted. At a McDonald’s in Clayton, Missouri, the all-black staff burst out in cheers and high fives, while the mostly white customers watched in disbelief. At one high school in St. Louis being filmed for TV, black students cheered for five solid minutes.

At another high school, after hearing the verdict, 20 black students beat, kicked and stomped a younger white student while shouting “black power!” Outside the Los Angeles Criminal Courts building, a Hispanic man was assaulted by an angry crowd of blacks merely for saying he thought O.J. was guilty. In Colorado, a black man beat up his white girlfriend because she disagreed with him about the verdict. He told her Nicole Simpson deserved it and maybe she did, too.

White people took it all in and said: That’s it. This has drained the last reserves from the Guilt Account. After that, mau-mauing appeals to white self-condemnation were futile. Accusing someone of racism suddenly stopped working, as if there were a glitch in the subway system and Metro cards didn’t open the turnstile anymore.

It was the best thing that had happened to black people in a very long time. No longer did they have to endure pompous whites treating them like children: Do you like your ice cream? Is that good?

Black criminals were locked up, saving tens of thousands of black lives. The very next year, welfare reform became law and hundreds of thousands of black women left the rolls and got jobs. Race hucksters lost their power to intimidate, and talented black people rose to the fore.

Black Americans had won the final civil rights battle: The right to be treated like adults.

But you can’t suppress liberal patronizing forever. A dozen years passed, memories faded, and a half-black Hawaiian who’d never faced one iota of race discrimination, except in his favor, ran for president on the most left-wing agenda in history. (That is, until President Senile Dementia’s staff became president.)

With that, white liberals breathed a sigh of relief and returned to their favorite hobby: accusing other white people of racism.

So now we’re right back where we started, but this time with a vengeance.

The Masters tournament on the second weekend of April is the Rite of Spring for golfers in northern America. In places like Chicago, grass is finally turning green after the bleak winter, but the weather is usually still dire. So, golfers mostly stay home and watch the Masters on TV being broadcast from ethereally beautiful Augusta National in Georgia and make plans to play the next weekend themselves.

So, that’s a timely excuse for a column on golf.

The New York Times ran an op-ed titled “The Most Famous Golfer at the Masters Is Black. Why Aren’t There More Players Like Him?” by Peter May, who is promoting his book about the breaking of the Professional Golfers Association’s color line in 1961:

When the Masters Tournament commenced on Thursday, featuring 89 competitors, there was exactly one Black golfer in the field: the one we all know, Tiger Woods. Beyond that, the field for the 88th Masters didn’t look all that different from the previous 87.

That raises a good question: Where are the black golf stars? As The Onion headlined in 2012:

Golf Pretty Sure All Those Young Black Kids Inspired by Tiger Woods Should Have Arrived by Now

The obvious answer for why few blacks have followed the famously mixed-race Tiger into the upper ranks is that golf is a costly sport.

Yet, there were nine top-level black touring pros in 1965 versus only two today (assuming that Tiger, who shot an 82 on Saturday, is effectively retired).

So why has the number of black touring pros declined since a half century ago? The answer explains a lot about changes in American society over my lifetime.

From 1961 to 1986 five blacks (Pete Brown, Charlie Sifford, Lee Elder, Calvin Peete, and Jim Thorpe) won a total of 23 PGA tour events. And more of the same generation later became winners on the Senior Tour for 50-and-overs, such as Jim Dent, Walter Morgan, and Charles Owens, who played cross-handed and introduced the long putter.

The early black golf stars tended to lead lives both inspiring and entertaining. For example, Elder, the first black to qualify for the Masters, was employed as a teenager by Titanic Thompson, America’s most legendary gambler, as his caddie and chauffeur as they hustled their way through the country clubs of the South. While negotiating the terms of the bet with a couple of overconfident local hotshots, Thompson would point to his liveried chauffeur polishing the limo and exclaim, “I bet you couldn’t even beat me if I was partnered with him, and he’s never even tried golf before.”

Since 1986, Woods has won 83 tournaments. But no other black triumphed on tour again until Cameron Champ in 2018. (By the way, Champ looks white, but he has a perfectly reasonable claim to membership in the African American community through his very black grandfather, who taught him golf.)

Champ and Harold Varner III of the Saudi-financed LIV golf league are the only black or part-black touring pros of note at present, but neither qualified for the Masters this year. While Masters champ Scottie Scheffler could well be golf’s next superstar, current golfers tend to be less consistent from year to year than in the days when Jack Nicklaus could win eighteen major championships from 1962 to 1986.

This is perhaps due to the increasing violence of the modern swing: Current club and ball technology entitles golfers to lash harder without losing control. But driving the ball over 300 yards takes its toll on the body, rather like how throwing close to 100 miles per hour puts contemporary baseball pitchers on the injured list more frequently than their predecessors. To young pitchers, the 257 (and counting) career wins of 41-year-old Justin Verlander must look as primordially monumental of a number as Cy Young’s 511 wins would seem to Verlander. Nobody who will be under age 30 on July 1, 2024, has at present more than 65 wins.

May goes on:

This is not what Charles Sifford envisioned when he and Stanley Mosk, the attorney general of California, fought to integrate the Professional Golfers’ Association of America.

The story of how the great Jewish liberal Mosk prevented the Jewish Brentwood Country Club in Los Angeles from hosting the 1961 PGA Championship is indeed an interesting one. Jewish country clubs had been the venue of a number of U.S. Opens and PGA Championships before WWII, but they then shied away from volunteering to put on more after Mosk embarrassed Brentwood.

But the sheer existence of Jewish country clubs (even in today’s highly multiethnic Los Angeles, Brentwood’s membership remains 97 percent Jewish) is evidently too thought-provoking for The New York Times’ sensitive subscribers, so May prudently doesn’t mention it.

On the other hand, the integration of the PGA, shameful as it was to lag a decade and a half behind the end of the color line in baseball, still happened a full 63 years ago, so this history, intriguing as it is for its own sake, doesn’t seem all that relevant to the black lack on tour in 2024. But we live in an age of antiquarianism in which any and all shortcomings by blacks, even ones as benign as a failure to dominate professional golf, must be explained away by antiblack policies in the increasingly distant past.

May argues the need for quotas:

Until private country clubs, elite prep schools and Division I golf programs actively recruit and train Black golfers, Sifford’s legacy will remain unfulfilled, and the game will continue to be dominated by white players.

Yet, American golf in 2024 doesn’t seem exceptionally dominated by white players. Of the top 25 U.S. golfers this week following the Masters, 17 are white, two are East Asian (Collin Morikawa and Kurt Kitayama), two South Asian (Sahith Theegala and Akshay Bhatia), two are mixed race (Xander Schauffele is white and Asian, while Rickie Fowler is white, Asian, and American Indian), one is a Mormon Pacific Islander (Tony Finau), and Max Homa is a Persian Jew, who would presumably be classified as Middle Eastern and North African under the Biden administration’s new rules.

Asian-Americans are clearly overrepresented, especially South Asian-Americans, who have been almost invisible in American sports before. Golf is an expensive sport.

Perhaps more interesting than that none of the top U.S. golfers is black is that nobody is Hispanic, considering that Latinos now outnumber blacks by 40 percent. But few pundits are terribly interested in Hispanic representation.

The decline of black pros was forecasted way back in the late 1960s by Joe Dey, the first commissioner of the PGA Tour, who prophesied: “By the turn of the century, there may not be one black playing the tour.” Dey had a perfectly sensible reason for his prediction: Most black pros of his time started as caddies, but motorized golf carts were replacing human bag carriers. So, fewer blacks would get introduced to golf while young.

And, unlike in Dey’s time, you now pretty much have to start early these days to succeed at golf. The winningest black golfer before Tiger, Calvin Peete, grew up poor and didn’t play golf until his 20s, yet went on to win a dozen tournaments in his late 30s and early 40s. Similarly, a white peer of Peete’s, ten-time winner Larry Nelson, didn’t try golf until he came back from Vietnam at age 21. But that kind of late start seems inconceivable these days.

Consider how many team-sport superstars like Michael Jordan dream of retiring to the golf course and playing on the over-50 tour. But only the late 49ers quarterback John Brodie ever won a senior tour event.

Moreover, American culture became extremely hostile toward the idea of a black man serving a white man, even as a caddie. Thus, in the early 1980s the Masters dropped its requirement that tour pros use Augusta National’s local black caddies and instead could bring their regular caddies, who were increasingly white.

Because, it turns out that white guys love having servile jobs…as long as they are on beautiful golf courses. The typical tour caddie these days is often a fraternity brother or a college teammate of the player. The last time I had a caddie was at the National Golf Links of America in the Hamptons, where Duke U. students fly in for the weekend to tote bags for Masters of the Universe. The enthusiastic young men who unload your golf clubs from your trunk at the upscale daily fee course are likely upper-middle-class golf fanatics.

But Tiger Woods himself also probably played a sizable role in the lessening of chances for blacks in golf. I presume that Amy Chua’s coinage of “Tiger Mother” is a reference to the famous intensity of effort that Tiger’s parents put into preparing him to be a golf champion. That a part-Asian was trained from infancy to become the best golfer in the world—and in the dozen years from 1997 through 2008, Tiger was no doubt the best ever—had a galvanizing effect on Asian and other ambitious parents.

In the 27 years since the 21-year-old Woods’ twelve-stroke victory at the 1997 Masters, the level of parental investment in youth training has soared, which hasn’t helped blacks’ chances.

To get the formalities out of the way, yes, I was perma-banned from Twitter by the “free speech” Musk regime.

And I gotta say, I’d come to really like many of my followers, so please remain in touch on Substack (it’s free, you cheapskates).

Why’d I get banned? A tale old as the hills: A neo-Nazi Holocaust denier attacked me as I was drunk at 7 a.m., and I wasn’t in the mood for the sieg heiler’s shit, so I told him that he’s very brave hiding behind an anonymous account, but if he wants to come to Beverly Hills in person, I’ll put him six feet under.

The Nazi went crying to Musk, and because I’d made a Nazi weep I was banned.

Every day on social media I’m condemned by anti-denier morons who haven’t read a word I’ve written since 1992 and attack me for being a denier, and pro-denier morons who haven’t read a word I’ve written since 1992 and celebrate me for being a denier. And when I try to explain that I’m not a denier, the anti-deniers, who claim to be rationalists who’ve totally not turned “6 million” into a religion, tell me that my views today are irrelevant—in 1992 I blasphemed the Holocaust and that’s an unpardonable sin, but hey it’s not like they’ve turned historiography into a religion or anything. And the deniers, who claim to be rationalists who’ve totally not turned “280,000 cookies” into a religion, tell me that my views today are irrelevant—in 1992 I brought wisdom from on high, holy tablets that can never be amended because that would be blasphemy, but hey it’s not like they’ve turned historiography into a religion or anything.

It’s a unique hell, and the reason I drink.

And on April 4 I snapped at a Nazi and got banned by the billionaire who called a British cave diver a “pedo,” only to claim, during the defamation trial, that it was just “bro talk.” Bros talk tough online and say things that aren’t meant to be taken literally.

But my “bro talk” was a perma-ban offense.

So let’s talk about why.

Musk’s moved beyond “allowing” Holocaust denial to protecting it, and I’m not the only one noticing. The day after I was banned from Twitter, Kim Iversen, bimbo member of the Tucker Carlson/Max Blumenthal/Aaron Maté left/right anti-Jew horseshoe axis (which I covered last month) who became a Holocaust denier because of course she did (it’s a rite of passage—“Goebbel Goebbel Goebbel Goebbel, one of us, one of us!”), posted a YouTube video about how great it is that Musk is making Holocaust denial mainstream, because the lying Jews have it coming.

YouTube allows Iversen’s videos after nuking my entire anti-denial channel last year because Media Matters Mongoloid Eric Hananoki told them I’m a denier.

Iversen is correct; Musk is indeed promoting Holocaust denial, in part by giving the worst deniers wrist slaps for infractions that get anti-deniers banned. Take the case of one of the highest-profile deniers on the site, a retard named Angelo “Lucas” Gage, a military veteran (who single-handedly cured me of ever again saying “thank you for your service”) whose manner of speech comes off as so brain-damaged, he constantly has to remind his followers that he never took head shrapnel.

“JEWS…make…Gage…ANGRY…me…want…WORDS…so…me…can…say…why…Gage…ANGRY…mouth…make…words…COME…SPEAK…mouth…SPEAK!”

In February this vegetable (with 247,000 followers) went beyond denying the Holocaust and outright advocated assaulting Jews. And he got a two-week ban from Musk. “Oh, you naughty Nazi! Go to your room for two weeks, then come back and have some pie.”

“Me…like…PIE! PIE……GOOD.”

Gage is back, denying away. Whereas I got a lifetime ban.

But here’s where we come to the interesting part. While Iversen was boasting about “Yay! Holocaust denial’s mainstreamed by Musk,” deniers on Twitter like Gage and 660,000-follower Jake Shields, an MMA champion (another meathead), were bitching that they were being persecuted on the site. It’s a fascinating dynamic: thousands of people posting Holocaust denial while saying, “I’m not allowed to post this.”

Dude, you’re posting it. It’s hilarious. Every day, Shields posts something along the lines of “Why can’t we question the Holohoax?” and his fellow tards reply, “Yes, why can’t we question the Holohoax?” and a few guys will be like, “Dude, you are. You’re questioning it, and getting huge engagement.”

Each day on Twitter numerous idiots (including Gage, Shields, and Stew Peters) post a video I did in 1992—a video-for-hire that I’ve long denounced—and say, “Watch this banned video that I’m not allowed to post on Twitter”…as they’re posting it. With no ban or takedown.

Deniers are the far-right’s Daquans. The eternal victims. You can give them the keys to the kingdom and they’ll still claim to be locked out. The Holocaust revisionists I worked with 34 years ago, yeah, we got a lot wrong. And we got a few things right. But we at least pretended to be interested in “finding out what really happened” (for my part, that genuinely was my desire. Whatever mistakes I made, they were one-half good faith and one-half youthful arrogance). But now Holocaust denial has become the white man’s victimization bitchfest. Deniers like Musk’s favorite Ron Unz Naziboi Keith Woods claim that “Holocaust lies” are what destroyed the West. Woods, Gage, Shields, and their millions of followers all toe the same line: “The Jews lied about being made into soap and lampshades! And because of those lies, whites are forever oppressed. A-bew-hew-hew!”

These “macho” meatheads like Gage and Shields, all they do is whimper that dey’ze been victimized cuz some meanies told a lie eighty years ago.

If I may channel Pacino from Glengarry Glen Ross, what fruits, what faggots, what children. The veteran, the MMA thug, these phony tough guys spend all day on Twitter whining that in a war eighty years ago, someone said something factually questionable and it’s lit-uh-ruh-lly murdered them.

The weakest-minded among us act like lying in warfare is the greatest sin, while they have no problem with killing in warfare. “Oh, he shot some kids? Ho-hum, that’s war for ya. But he lied? Verily, I am slain by the mendacity.”

We 1980s/1990s revisionists, for all our faults…and lordy we had many…at least understood that untruths during wartime are to be expected. You don’t act shocked by it, you don’t use it as an excuse to forever play victim. You say, “Yes, there were untruths, and in some cases misunderstandings,” and you revise the history to expunge the untruths and correct the misunderstandings.

But that’s not what today’s deniers want to do. They have zero interest in understanding history (that’s why they never read books. It’s a thing with them—memes only. Books are forbidden!). They use Holocaust denial the same way the worst of the Daquans use slavery: “Dey dun wronged me in da past and dat dun screwed up mah people.”

Just as blacks are given every advantage, every get-out-of-jail-free card, yet still claim to be victimized, same thing for Holocaust deniers. Musk gives them immunity, and they still have to scream, “I’ze bein’ oppressed.” Because these are people looking for a reason to excuse their own shortcomings. Daquans and deniers are peas in a pod.

But it goes beyond that. Why does a guy like Musk, who is certainly not a brain-damaged meathead, champion denial?

Because he can’t say what he likely wants to say.

“The kaffir savages fucked up my birth nation. And here in my adopted nation, you can’t even launch a rocket without being grilled about how many kaffirs you employ.”

Whites are unhappy with the current state of the West, but also, most of them don’t want to attack individuals based on their race. Let’s be honest—many of us, on any given day, may think, “I wish there were fewer blacks around here.” But we don’t say it because we also know a lot of decent blacks, and it’s human nature to not want to come off as vicious toward decent humans based on nothing but their skin color.

And I think Musk’s a decent guy, which is why he’s gravitating toward denial, because it gives him a scapegoat for the West’s decline that doesn’t involve being mean to individuals. By blaming “Holocaust lies,” “soap and lampshades” for the West’s woes, you’re not blaming living humans, you’re blaming long-dead ones; you’re blaming a concept. “I ain’t sayin’ I hate all Jews. Just them liars who said ‘soap and lampshades’ eighty years ago.”

Holocaust denial will continue to rise because saying “Holocaust lies sunk our civilization” allows a wide spectrum of people, including Musk and that hellish right/left Carlson/Iversen/Blumenthal/Maté clusterfuck, to blame the West’s decline on something abstract, instead of “kikes,” “niggers,” or “beaners,” while looking oh so intellectual while doing it.

So, reality check: No, WWII untruths are not the cause of your woes. “Soap and lampshades” was never part of the established postwar history of the Holocaust, and sure, dime-store novels promoted such lurid tales, just as they promoted lurid tales of the Old West (“Jesse James shot my grandma in the cunny!”). Nobody has ever gone to jail for denying “soap and lampshades.” Nobody has ever gone to jail for saying, “The number isn’t 6 million.” Reitlinger’s 1953 masterwork The Final Solution gives a lowball figure of 4.19 million, and that book is legal all over Europe (Reitlinger never mentions “soap and lampshades;” conversely, he debunks—back in 1953—some the “wildest legends” of the Holocaust).

The West is fucked up because a bunch of whites in America really loved slavery, and another bunch of whites in America decided to use slavery as a reason to fight the other bunch of whites, and both bunches of whites were too stupid to understand that eventually mass African importation would become a bill come due, while meanwhile in Europe another bunch of whites decided to raid the darkie continents while giving the wogs and nogs citizenship, education, and medicine, keeping them alive and reproducing because bleedin’ hell we’s Christians we is we is, we’ze not monsters wot wot.

The Holocaust is not your misfortune. Had Hitler, a bloodthirsty butcher, not invaded Russia, the European war wouldn’t have become the society-altering apocalypse it did. Churchill was a snake, to be sure, but his deceitful orchestration of a war over Poland was a containable fire. The cataclysm came with Barbarossa. And the millions of murdered Jews are real, so take some responsibility, white Daquans; the West’s decline is not the fault of the Holocaust.

Just as I must take responsibility for the alcoholism that prompted me to tell a Nazi I’d kill him.

End of the day, this shit falls on us. The denier whiners who say otherwise are pathetic weakling losers.

Which, of course, means they’ll prosper. That’s our world today.

I think I’m gonna make this my standard sign-off this year: “What a mess…what a fucking mess.”

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