Si Vis Pacem Parabellum

| Thursday, March 17 2016 |

The case for Trump

The last six months or so have been a rather interesting first act of what many, myself included, regard as one of if not the most important Presidential elections in the history of the nation. America, as it was founded, has been in real jeopardy for decades, and the last decade has nearly made it unrecognizable to those who came here looking for that singularly unique American Dream. The vile progs have played the long game, and played it well, hell bent on destroying that dream at any cost, creating in its place a socialist utopian Europey wet dream of diversity-via-totalitarianism stupidity. They succeeded in turning an entire generation of children into drooling vegetables devoid of marketable skills and rational thought. They’ve rekindled the race wars of the 60s to the degree folk like Martin Luther King are quite possibly hard at work in an effort to return to the living simply so they can beat the shit out of the useful idiots who enable it. They’ve saddled the good ship America with enough debt to sink the majority of the rest of the world. They’ve taken a once proud culture of liberty, a shining example throughout all of human history, and turned it into “acceptance as a religion” glop. They’ve weaponized the government against her people to a degree only dreamed about by fascists a large chunk of the greatest generation died to stop. And on, and on.

Eventually, this was going to come to a head, either in the form of a civil war, or a political correction so abrupt as to rattle the windows for decades to come. And here we are with the latter, which for many is likely the last chance to stop the former.

From the get go, there have been three candidates on the side of sanity who looked as they could do the job. Ted Cruz, Marco Rubio, and to the chagrin of many who butter their bread on scoff, Donald Trump. The rest were regional players at best who were, for one reason or other, unelectable on a national stage. None of them, however, have had to face the fire of ridicule, hostility, and downright blithering idiocy that has been thrown in the general direction of Trump.

Now, some six to eight months ago, I was hoping for a Cruz/Rubio ticket, which I figured was electable and generally sane. Alas, Rubio tossed his own hat in the ring, having done some very silly things that ultimately saw his campaign implode this past week. Cruz is easily the strongest conservative in the group, and has been my guy for quite some time. But. One of the things those of us who are sick and tired of it all had been looking forward to most of all, was what Newt Gingrich touched on briefly four years ago. Fight the media. Fight the talking heads. Fight the blithering idiocy, and do it loud and convincingly.

Cruz, rather unfortunately, has not done so. He has made an eloquent case for conservatism, and impressed many with his political scruples. He’s also fought quite a bit, though unfortunately, with Trump instead of the targets of the ire of so many. As a result, he is very much out of it, barring some hail mary series of events that has him winning over 80% of remaining delegates.

Now, I was a Cruz guy for quite a while. I like him, and I certainly won’t be sobbing in my beer if he somehow wins the Presidency— something I consider a long shot against Clinton given his bible thumping and largely uninspiring debates. I have my doubts that Cruz will go for the Clinton jugular to the degree she so richly deserves, and to the degree those who want a fighter want to see. No, demand to see.

Trump, however, is something of a phenomenon very few people saw coming. He was, and still is to those who clearly know what’s best, a joke. His accomplishments aren’t real accomplishments, say those who aren’t multi-billionaires and who have not run multiple businesses. He’s not playing by the rules. He’s calling out the media, hell, he’s owning the media at every turn, and not knuckling under at every turn. This, to his detractors, makes him a child, un-presidential, or whatever other jibe is popular that week.

My feelings on Trump are thus, and based on what I’ve heard in business and social circles, quite common among people who work for a living, at any stage of success.

First, the man is a doer. He’s a success. Those who support him don’t give one hot damn if he started with family money to build his empire, or went bankrupt, or sold this or lost that. That, as anyone in business will tell you, is simply part of the game. You risk, you lose, you risk, you win, you learn. And if you’re very good at that, you make millions. If you’re massively better than that, you make billions. Hence, attacking Trump’s business acumen is a farce to anyone who has actually, you know, started and run a business. It is also distasteful to those who work their butts off every day, and dare to dream that one day they’ll achieve something near that level of success. To crap on Trump’s achievements is to crap on that dream, and it is as disingenuous as it is unpalatable. That’s why pretty much every candidate who has tried it has gone down the tubes, and why every pundit to do the same has found themselves somewhere between ignored and reviled by quite a lot of people.

Second, Trump set fire to the concept of political correctness and media talking head kowtowing, and then blew it up and ran over it with a tank, before flying off into the sunset with his 757. He has taken the fight to those very people who enable and facilitate the blithering idiocy so many revile, and he has done it exceptionally well. A great many people do not care if he lacks eloquence at times, for the simple truth that he says what he means and stands behind it, no matter what. This very thing is what had the media talking heads running Trump implosion countdown clocks every Sunday, only to end up with egg on their faces come the next poll or primary. And those who want a fighter eat that up and ask for seconds.

Third, Trump is a leader and a showman. He’s extravagant, brash and unapologetic. His simple motto of “Make America Great Again” resonates because people believe the guy when he talks about it. He is the polar opposite of the meek, spineless, conniving politician that has sold the average joe down the river for decades. And that, is again exactly what quite a lot of people want.

More recently, Trump has the singular distinction of making just about the entire collection of statist idiots utterly lose their shit. Any state, any country, pick one and they are utterly flipping out over the concept of a Trump Presidency. Mexico, most of Europe, every state run by dipshits— they are all shrieking and flailing a little bit louder every day. And quite a lot of people, myself included, love that shit.

The final clincher for me, though, had nothing to do with Trump. No, what did it for me was the petulant, childish reaction that those who should know better, those on our side, presumably, have thrown at the man day in and out. Every Trump win has been met with more whining, more smarmy little quips, more mewling sycophancy to whoever is the “anti-Trump” from these people so as to bring an eventual “Just shut the fuck up!” from those of us who might otherwise agree with them.

Name an argument, and they have one.

Why, Trump doesn’t know anything about foreign policy! they mewl. As though any President ever knew what the hell was really going on until they were given their first brief. And as though Trump wouldn’t surround himself with the best of the best like any competent executive from day one.

Trump will get creamed by Hillary! Except for the fact that Trump has put together exactly the sort of moderate, independent and center-right coalition every right-leaning talking head has been screaming about the need for since before Romney got his ass handed to him.

And on and on, ever into more increasing minutiae. That nonsense is what did it for me, as ultimately, a vote for Trump is a large middle finger to those people, as much as to the leftist asswits who have been destroying the country and sucking the productivity out of people like me for decades.
posted by Mr. Lion @ 20:42 EST | comments (1)

| Friday, December 4 2015 |

Public Notice.

Given that President Zero's latest reichstag fire bright idea seems to be the equivalent of preventing car theft by leaving one's car in a dark alley with the keys in it: Move to replace all instances of "President Zero" with "President Fucktard".

posted by Mr. Lion @ 11:55 EST | comments (1)

| Saturday, November 14 2015 |

On Paris.

There are still a few good guys in France with guns, right? Because, y'know.. there's a pretty simple fix here.

-- Mr. Lion (@somelion) November 13, 2015

posted by Mr. Lion @ 19:47 EST | comments (0)

| Wednesday, October 28 2015 |

Rainy day ponderance.

One of these days I'm going to have to actually write about this empire of dirt I've been building over the last nearly-a-decade. 'course, that would require free time not already scheduled for scotch and/or naked women.

Until then, I'll just leave this here.


posted by Mr. Lion @ 20:27 EST | comments (0)

| Friday, October 2 2015 |

Dear Apple: OS X El Capitan

So far, 10.11 has a lot of little glue items I rather like. Even stupid little stuff like the new password cursor in terminal. There are, however, a few things I really do not like. So, bitch mode on:

1) When I have to disable System Integrity Protection to change the fucking horrid icon, System Integrity Protection is stupid.

2) If the new version of the aforementioned is going to require a six hour rebuild of my mail accounts, maybe fucking warn me beforehand?

3) While I realize the majority of iCloud users happily spew all of their iCloud-enabled information into said iCloud, I do not. Stop trying to trick me into doing so. Seriously, stop, or I'll just pull the iCloud plug all together. I barely tolerate iCloud mail as it is, and this continued fumbuckary is eroding said tolerance.

4) While I realize you guys hate Java nearly as much as Flash, some of us have to use it to pay for your shiny hardware. So maybe tell us when you're going to nuke and pave one's Java environment with an OS upgrade.

posted by Mr. Lion @ 18:47 EST | comments (0)

| Tuesday, July 28 2015 |

On Assholes.

It's not every day I agree with Piers Morgan on something. In fact, this is the first day. Ever.

Mogran opines on a recent transgression in Africa, in which a generally useless piece of shit named Dr. Walter Palmer, a dentist in Minnesota, thought it would be nifty to pay another bunch of useless pieces of shit $50,000 for the privilege of luring a lion out of a game preserve in Zimbabwe so he could kill it. Some people, who are also useless pieces of shit, call this "hunting".

It isn't.

I've been a hunter since I was judged old enough by my father to carry a rifle through the woods. I've hunted deer, moose, game birds, all manner of animals the like of which there are lots and lots of, to the point that their populations tend to explode without said hunting. I shot those animals because they taste good, and felt absolutely no remorse or concern for having done so. I took them home, cleaned them, and made a lovely barbecue that myself and many friends enjoyed over the years.

What I did not do, however, is mount any part of their anatomy to a plaque so I could display it to my buddies and attempt to convince them of my skill as a hunter, bravado, or penis size. Because doing that, in the opinion of this hunter of some 30 years, is fucking pathetic.

But what a certain Dr. Palmer did was not just pathetic, it was also illegal. It wasn't enough for him to travel to Africa and kill a species that is one step removed from being endangered. No, while there is a by all accounts thriving business in much of Africa known as canned hunting, wherein apex predators are raised specifically to be tied to a tree somewhere and shot by idiots so they have something to hang on their wall, this just wasn't challenging enough for Walter Palmer. He had to shoot a wild lion, of which there are around 20,000 left alive in the world.

In order to accomplish that, he paid a couple criminals to tote him out into the bush, lure a lion out of a game reserve with a dead animal, and killed it. Not cleanly, of course, as one can only assume it was more fun to wound this lion, and let it suffer for nearly two days, before having someone shoot it dead for him. At which point the interesting parts were cut off for Dr. Palmer's trophy case, and the rest left to rot in the bush.

Walter Palmer, you are an unspeakable piece of shit. As a hunter, a sportsman, and a human fucking being, you nauseate me. If there is any justice in the world, your despicable act will result in the loss of your livelihood, your friends, your family, and anyone on the "happy smile" side of being willing to piss on you after finding you burning in a ditch after a car wreck, you pathetic bastard.

In closing: Fuck you; you vile, ugly, pathetic little man.

posted by Mr. Lion @ 20:22 EST | comments (0)

| Wednesday, June 24 2015 |

The future belongs to me.

Along with everyone else who's over the age of 30 or so and wasn't raised in the ever encompassing nanny hell we now call home.

To wit:

Raise your hand if you survived a childhood in the 60s, 70s, and 80s that included one or more of the following, frowned-upon activities (raise both hands if you bear a scar proving your daredevil participation in these dare-devilish events):

1. Riding in the back of an open pick-up truck with a bunch of other kids
2. Leaving the house after breakfast and not returning until the streetlights came on, at which point, you raced home, ASAP so you didn’t get in trouble
3. Eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the school cafeteria
4. Riding your bike without a helmet
5. Riding your bike with a buddy on the handlebars, and neither of you wearing helmets
6. Drinking water from the hose in the yard
7. Swimming in creeks, rivers, ponds, and lakes (or what they now call *cough* “wild swimming“)
8. Climbing trees (One park cut the lower branches from a tree on the playground in case some stalwart child dared to climb them)
9. Having snowball fights (and accidentally hitting someone you shouldn’t)
10. Sledding without enough protective equipment to play a game in the NFL
11. Carrying a pocket knife to school (or having a fishing tackle box with sharp things on school property)
12. Camping
13. Throwing rocks at snakes in the river
14. Playing politically incorrect games like Cowboys and Indians
15. Playing Cops and Robbers with *gasp* toy guns
16. Pretending to shoot each other with sticks we imagined were guns
17. Shooting an actual gun or a bow (with *gasp* sharp arrows) at a can on a log, accompanied by our parents who gave us pointers to improve our aim. Heck, there was even a marksmanship club at my high school
18. Saying the words “gun” or “bang” or “pow pow” (there actually a freakin’ CODE about “playing with invisible guns”)
19. Working for your pocket money well before your teen years
20. Taking that money to the store and buying as much penny candy as you could afford, then eating it in one sitting
21. Eating pop rocks candy and drinking soda, just to prove we were exempt from that urban legend that said our stomachs would explode
22. Getting so dirty that your mom washed you off with the hose in the yard before letting you come into the house to have a shower
23. Writing lines for being a jerk at school, either on the board or on paper
24. Playing “dangerous” games like dodgeball, kickball, tag, whiffle ball, and red rover (The Health Department of New York issued a warning about the “significant risk of injury” from these games)
25. Walking to school alone

Of course, I did those things and more. I blasted through the woods on various dirt bikes at hilarious speeds. I built my own fireworks and blew up said woods on a regular basis. I drank, I smoked, I fell down, I got back up. I tested, and found, the limits of my parents. In doing so I earned their respect and found my own. I did all of the things that until quite recently were considered part of a normal childhood-- and as a result, I grew up to be a productive member of society with marketable skills, a moral code, and enough naturalist knowledge to survive a period of time without the benefit of a 7-11. All kids, even those that weren't the sharpest knives in the drawer when I was a kid, did the same.

Today? We utterly lose our shit over the fact that some retailers sell Battle Flag of the Army of Northern Virginia, and fall over ourselves trying to make sure that they don't. In America.

Two things are largely certain at this point: It's going to hit the fan, and when it does, the normal folk are going to be the ones to survive. Frankly, I can't say I mind.

(Via Mike)
posted by Mr. Lion @ 02:05 EST | comments (0)

| Wednesday, May 27 2015 |

The way of the future.

Remember, kids. Self-driving cars are what we need.

See also, self-flying airplanes.

posted by Mr. Lion @ 12:05 EST | comments (1)

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