Blog

  • Misadventures in Bikepacking

     

    Recently, my family and I went on a bikepacking trip. The idea for this trip actually came from a fellow Glib (I don’t recall which one) who linked to bikepacking.com. Bikepacking is as it sounds – it is backpacking, but on a bike. While bike touring is long distance biking over roadways, bikepacking is on rural or single track trails, and nights are spent in tents rather than hotels. Bikepackers rarely carry backpacks instead supplies are stored in a variety of bags around the bike. The trips vary from a short overnighter to a 2,700 mile epic ride from western Mexico to Canada. My wife and I have been very interested in trying a longer bikepacking trip. Biking Murphy to Manteo North Carolina is at the top of our bucket list as we are both love our state. This summer, we thought we would start smaller and bikepack New River State Park in Virginia with…our 3 and 1 year old children literally in tow in 2 bike trailers.

    Throughout the summer we biked once or twice a week, usually up to 16 to 18 miles. The point was more for the kids to get used to 1.5-2 hours in the trailer. To facilitate their willingness to ride with us, we bribed them with a stop at a playground near the end of our route.

    The New River trail is an approachable first time trail. It is a largely flat, 56 mile long, rails to trail set up. It has many bridges that were formerly train trestles, and it also has two tunnels (something we knew our train-loving son would be crazy about). There is a campsite partway through. For us, this particular trail had the added benefit of being about 40 minutes away from the home of my wife’s best friend. We decided to cheat a little, and my wife’s friend agreed to meet us for dinner at the campsite and manage bringing our food and our car. Things were set. I reserved a campsite right on the river, and the weather seemed like it would be cooler than the 90s we usually suffer through in my part of NC. The big day was approaching and we were all excited.

    Then the gods gave me signs that things would not go well. First, my dog developed an allergic reaction on his paw the night before “go” time. I didn’t want to go on this trip or be midway through the ride and get a call from the boarding kennel about him. We decided to cancel, and it all went downhill from there.

    Our two alternative dates did not work for my wife’s friend – which meant we would need to carry our own food and figure out how to get our car from the beginning of the trail to the end of the trail. The bike shuttles were absurdly expensive, even for just one person. Taking both our cars to shuttle ourselves would not work due to the travel time both from NC to VA, and then the back and forth along the trail. We decided to reserve a spot at the campsite, and do an out and back overnighter rather than complete the whole trail.

    The big day 2.0 arrived. Things seemed to be going well. It was hot, but the weather was good enough. All of our gear fit (phew!), and there was even room for the kids!

    16 month old in the Burley D’Lite pulled by me

     

    3 year old in the Burley Solo pulled by my wife

     

    So we sped off. Much of the trail was shaded. At times, the scenery looked like western movies with large cliffs and small rapids rushing by below (unfortunately, not pictured). Our kids loved going over the bridges and through the tunnels. Things seemed to be going well.

     

    There were more scenic views, but I wasn’t able to get a picture of them

     

     

    At 12 or 14 miles, my wife asked at what mile marker the campsite was. I had looked at so many different trails lately, that I couldn’t remember exactly where it was. I figured it was doable anyway. I told her I thought I was sometimes around the 16 mile point. 14 miles in, I was starting to feel the ride. I kept telling myself, we were almost there. But then, 16 miles came and went with no campsite. It was at this point that I really started lagging. I told myself that had to be close – it was probably at the 20 mile mark. 20 miles came and went. At this point, I was sore and exhausted. I couldn’t even afford to stop and ask any passersby where the campsite was. (I let my wife do that.) At 25.29 miles, we finally reached the campground.

    By then, I just felt bad and wrong. I wasn’t sure if it was dehydration or what. I felt like STEVE SMITH HAD WAY WITH ME SEVERAL TIMES. What I did know was that there was no way I could bike 25 miles back to the car the next day. The question was could I survive the night. Did I mention that my training was just weekly rides. Apparently, I am not 22 anymore where I can just jump into some athletic event and be ok. Besides, we were both hauling close to 75lbs between our gear and children.

    My wife was pretty worried at how sick I felt. We decided we should just head back home. At this point, it was 6pm and our children had spent the day cooped up in bike trailers. My wife’s friend – who would have come to get us so that we could get to our car – was out of town. We tried Uber and Lyft and there was nothing available for as remote as we were. My wife desperately called her friend to try to find someone local to get her back to the car so she could pack us up. We were finally able to find someone. So, after a three hour bike ride, followed by another hour at the campsite with two stir crazed children, we were on our two hour car ride back home.

    Now that I scared you away from ever bikepacking, I would like to say the first 12 miles were fun. The kids seemed to enjoy the trip – at least the part they were awake for. They definitely loved the marshmallows at camp. Riding with two toddlers and two trailers isn’t too bad, but the gear really adds a lot of weight to the ride. I do want to try to bikepack again, but with more reasonable goals. I am thinking about riding the Jamestown end of the Capital Trail in Virginia or tackling the New River again from a shorter trail head.

     

    Not the stats of a champion
  • GlibFit 4.0 – The Reckoning Getting Back to It

    Welcome back, Glibertariat.  GlibFit has been on hiatus after successful runs by SUPREME OVERLORD Trshmnster and A Leap At The Wheel.  You’re all worthless and weak but we are back after a long layoff.  Time to get back in shape.  

    Which brings us to today’s topic.  Getting back to exercise after a long layoff.  Layoffs can be any length of time and happen for all sorts of reasons. They result in us becoming all sorts of shapes and sizes.

    I’ve had to get back to it more than once with varying degrees of success. When I moved to California to attend law school I was entranced by the weather.  I can’t say all the women at the beaches were all out of a David Lee Roth video, but it was not uncommon to be hear this running through my head.  I was motivated to join a nearby gym and run regularly.  Despite putting in long hours during law school, I got into pretty good shape; probably the best shape I had ever been in during my first thirty years on planet earth.

    I was far from perfect during law school, but I was consistent.  Graduation came and I relocated to a new city for my first job as a lawyer.  I found a local gym, but it was a significant step down and the hours were kind of limited.  My workouts started slipping.  Not too long after starting work I met Mrs. Chafed.  Between work I took seriously and a budding romance I no longer had time for the gym.

    I sporadically made some effort to find another gym.  After we were married, a new gym opened that was terrific.  It was also poorly managed.  It, and my workouts, lasted about a year.  The gym closed, the first baby Chafed came along, Mrs. Chafed stopped working, I was now the only breadwinner and playing Mr. Mom.  First Baby Chafed was definitely daddy’s girl so it was almost always me that got up at night when she was crying.  The gym, working out, and being trim was fading into memory.

    Cut to about eleven years later, we left the garage door open one night and Mrs. Chafed’s car was burglarized.  She freaked out.  The cop who took the report told her to get a dog.  I tell her in no uncertain terms I am at full capacity and cannot handle another responsibility.  Also, we were both public defenders and knew firsthand how stupid most cops are.  We’ll get a gun I said.  Hello Mossberg 590.  Despite my vehement, unceasing objections, Mrs. Chafed went to the pound and got us a dog.

    We welcomed Moe to the family.  My fur child was then (maybe) a one-year old chocolate lab.  Mrs. Chafed was surprised by how much energy he had.  I groaned, rolled my eyes, ceaselessly reminded her this would happen, and took up running.  We ran every weekday morning.  Weekends were for the dog park.  

    Holy shit I was out of shape. Our first run I went about three quarters of a mile and thought I was going to die.  Moe still had boundless energy and looked at me like the weak, winded, disappointment I was.  I had no choice but to keep running.  It was my only hope of getting to sleep through the night.

    Run with Moe I did.  Bit by bit I got my wind back, kept going a little further, and finally achieved my goal of running far enough that the dog was satisfied.  Several daddy-doggy 5Ks also ensued.  I was more or less in shape. Necessity called and I answered.  My long layoff was over.  That lasted about seven years until age and arthritis made Moe consider a somewhat slower lifestyle.

    Well, I continued to run.  Sort of.  It broke my heart to leave without him.  Those sad eyes and whimpering also made it hard.  Getting another half hour or so of sleep was very appealing.  Running fell by the wayside.

    A couple of years go by when my wife joined a gym.  She kept bugging me to join because it will be a chance for us to spend time together.”  Sure honey. *cough* bullshit *cough* After sufficient nagging I joined. Once again, holy shit I was out of shape.  I truly felt worthless and felt genuinely weak. A month later, Mrs. Chafed moved on to private training.  I was on my own.

    It was decision time.  I found a program I like (more about that in a future article) and decided to stay.  That was two years ago. I’ve had shorter layoffs since getting back to the gym due to illness, but I’ve consistently made my way back.  For me, wanting to go instead of having to go, is the best motivation.

    What kept you from exercising?  What brought you back?  What kept you going once you got back?

     

  • IFLA: The “Absent Context” Edition of the Horoscope for the Week of October 20

    Moreau Overlook
    Drive seventeen miles from my house, then get out of the car and hike another mile and a half.

    I am writing this during a rare moment of downtime in my vacation.  I’ve been unable to read Glibs for the most part — partway through the comments on Mojeaux’s 101, so I am wondering exactly how many new memes have been birthed and died, and exactly how unrecognizable the glibscape is going to be once things are back to “normal.”

    Harris' Hawk coming in for a landing
    Harris’ Hawk coming in for a landing

    No alignments of note, though I will note that the top of Cascade Mountain would be a most excellent place to do some stargazing, assuming that the wind didn’t kill you.

    Harris’ Hawks are social raptors, meaning that they understand the importance of mugging for the camera. Owls tell you to go fuck yourself if you pull out a phone while holding them.

    As for the regular planetary visitations, Libra is keeping conflict in balance (whether this is good or bad depends largely on your viewpoint), and Venus and Mercury in Scorpio bring tidings that your favorite porn will be easily available in high quality.  The one new thing, the moon in Cancer, has two possible meanings, but because of the relative position of Saturn the correct interpretation is “a great secret will be created,” so if you’re not the one making secrets, someone’s keeping one from you.  There might be a way of diving who this person is, but I’m too busy to do that at the moment.

    Owls land vastly more lightly than hawks. Even considering the size difference.

    As for the cards, not terribly great. There’s a typical amount of bad luck and good, but the good luck is for minor things while the bad is for major.  So if you get a particularly good sandwich, don’t eat it while walking or you’re liable to fall into an uncovered manhole.

    Libra:  Ace of Cups reversed – House of the false heart, mutation, instability, revolution.

    Scorpio:  King of Wands reversed – A severe, austere, dark man.  Attack from a lion.

    Sagittarius:  3 of Coins – Métier, trade, skilled labor, nobility, aristocracy, renown, glory.

    Capricorn:  3 of Wands reversed – The end of troubles, suspension or cessation of adversity, toil and disappointment.

    Aquarius:  The Sun reversed – Material happiness, fortunate marriage, contentment, but to a lesser extent or with added difficulties than if the card had been drawn upright.

    Pisces:  The Hermit reversed – Concealment, disguise, policy, fear, unreasoned caution.

    Aries:  4 of Cups – Weariness, disgust, aversion, imaginary vexations, “wine is now offered the wastrel, but he sees no consolation therein,”  blended pleasure.

    Taurus:  5 of Wands – Imitation, sham fight, strenuous competition and struggle, gold, gain, opulence.

    Gemini:  9 of Wands reversed – Obstacles, adversity, calamity.

    Cancer:  The Fool – Folly, mania, extravagance, intoxication, delirium, frenzy, bewrayment

    Leo:  The Tower – Misery, distress, indigence, adversity, calamity, disgrace, deception, ruin, unforeseen catastrophe.

    Virgo:  The Chariot reversed – Riot, quarrel, dispute, litigation, defeat.

     

    Finally, in case I’m not caught up by the time this goes live, another invitation to come shoot at my club.  Details here.  I’ve posted pictures of the pistol I’ll be using here before; otherwise, I’ll be the middle-aged white guy with a beard wearing green Howard Leight earpro, safety glasses and a hat.

    Two trails diverged in a yellow wood. And I… I took the one more traveled by, because it was slightly shorter and led to a better view.
  • Sunday Morning Tinky Winky Linkies

    It’s Holy Football Sunday Chez SP/OMWC and there’s green New Mexico chiles in our near future. The temperatures are almost bearable. We slipped a few shots of vodka in Mom’s oatmeal, so things are relatively quiet. I’m getting ready for a long week of my new company’s annual sales meeting, complete with Team Building Exercises. Apparently, “Fuck you, let me do my job,” is not considered a valid answer to the “getting to know each other” questions. And I’ve fallen in love with Amazon’s new HD streaming music service.

    All in all, not a bad start to the day. And birthdays to match, including a great American composer; the best straight-woman ever; a guy who finished his career getting Wood; John Roseboro’s favorite pitcher; the next president of the United Sates no matter who she has to fuck; and a Lucky guy who slipped in a puddle of pee pee and collected.

    On to news.

     

    Anyone who doesn’t worship evil will be happy that the Yankees are watching the World Series on TV.

     

    I just love this line: “…the fiery Brooklyn native, backed by a slate of new endorsements and two new stents in an artery connected to his heart, appeared to be expanding his coalition on Saturday.”

     

    I can suggest a fix for this.

     

    Porn isn’t all fame, glamour, and flying jizz. 

     

    The upside of the large influx of Asians in our area is better food choices. The downside is this.

     

    I’m always touched by stories of happy families.

     

    Serves you right for going to a place called “Furman University.”

     

    Affirmative Action in action.

     

    Ahhh, Chicago!

     

    Old Guy Music is a live dinosaur tour version of a song that came up today in my Amazon stream. Fun indeed.

  • The Night Shift for October 19, 2019

    That was a damn fine get-together last Saturday, if I do say so my damn self..  Interesting back-and-forth, and that isn’t a euphemism.  Well…not completely.  Since then, we’ve had epic weather, illness, arguing, drinking, sexy time.  In other words:  a very Glibertarian week.  I see you’re wearing something loose, like I suggested.  And, since you didn’t play the “I don’t know; what do you want” game, and gave me some suggestions for hang-outs, we can inject some variety into this evening’s festivities.  To whit:

     

    With a tip of the hat to Chafed—the most obvious music choice EVAR

    Thanks to the awesome CPRM, I have a new avatar pic, based on the idea by Cacciatore.  So, as of this posting I shall be opening Sir Digby’s Ice Cream Parlour and Woodchipper EmporiumCome one, come all!  Just, you know—clean up after yourselves.

    My one, non- patented copyrighted move.

    Oh, boy—Texas has a police problem, it seems.  Since the Amber Guyger story generated so much talk last week, I was wondering what could follow it up.  Well, it seems Texas stepped up once again.  This is very early in the situation, especially as of my putting this together.  No telling if any new information will be forthcoming.  Here’s a I will say that, prior to the last four or five years, I would have said I much prefer the idea of being policed by Ft. Worth’s finest than by Dallas’.  Maybe not so much, anymore.  The city itself is still preferable to Dallas, but only just so.

    I gave birthday shout-outs to fellow Augustinian glibs at the end of that month, completely expecting to make it a monthly deal.  Of course, I forgot September.  And then, Q mentions his happy ending birthday, so, here we are.  If you recently celebrated, or, endured another anniversary of your existence:  Happy Birthday.

    Favorite products:  If you were giving advice on items on which someone could spend hard-earned cash, what would it be?  Whether were talking a luxury you indulge, or, something you figure everyone buys.  One recommendation I would make is jersey-knit (t-shirt) sheets; specifically, the AmazonBasics line.  Excellent weight/thickness (natch); very sturdy for jersey-knit, but not a lot of colors available.  I’m sure that, like most items, jersey-knit sheets are not for everyone, but I suggest that anyone give them a try, as they are comfy and cheap.  They do NOT last as long as your standard percale sheets, but, if you find a good manufacturer, I think you’ll like them.  Now, it’s your turn.

    Speaking of favorite products…  Give it a watch

    This one’s for the ladies:  Many of you say we live in the best time-line.  I’m not completely sold on that, but this timeline does have Mike Rowe to be a voice of wisdom and sanity.  The truly “best” timeline:  Mike Rowe is Crusty Juggler.

    When you worship the government, that pesky Second Commandment is a thing of the past.  Plus, coveting is practically encouraged!

    Well, that pretty much wraps up my contribution to glib-verse.  Next week is a Halloween costume party for ol’ Diggy, so, while I plan on putting up a post, I may be a bit late to the show.  To sing us out, I found something rather interesting (yes, I intended to troll you lot, but…just watch the whole thing).

  • Saturday night links of somnolence

    Can I just get a lump of coal instead?

     

    My wife is sleeping about 11-12 hours a night these days. Even though I stay up after she goes to bed, I’m spending way too much time with my head on the pillow. I guess there are worse things in life.

     

    Hey! There were birthdays today!

     

    Shitlordy, shitlord stuff, UK style.

     

    Augusto Pinochet has a sad.

     

    They’ll have to find another global pandemic bogeyman, but I guess not dying of hemorrhagic fever is a good thing.

     

    The cognitive dissonance plaguing our country right now is just mind boggling.

     

    “Once they found us, it turned into a bunch of big jokes and laughs,” he said. “We were so happy to be getting care, and that we weren’t dead.”

     

    The look on this guys face says it all.

     

    Doobie dooby do.

     

  • That awkward moment Mexico beats the United States at something.

    In the news over the past few, several articles came out speculating Mexico to be the next to legalize marijuana. While you could theoretically get it there anyways, it wasn’t exactly legal for anybody without large quantities of cash on hand to pay off Mexican cops.  So it is in this sense, they beat us at something other than fútbol.

    This is my review of Hemptails Citrus Gold

    How does this work in Mexico?  A brief rundown of how the court functions can be found here.  For those of you capable of reading Spanish above the college level (don’t look at me), here is the official webpage for Suprema Corte de Justicia de la Nación. If you want to dig up the court decision, I’m sure it’s in there somewhere.  For everyone else, it takes five repeated decisions from the Mexican Supreme Court to set enough legal precedent to compel their legislative body to act.  Do they need the court’s permission first?  Of course not.  It might be a fun thought experiment in this country if this is how that worked.

    Hopefully just as a thought experiment; I am in no way advocating this.  Can you imagine the idiotic things they could come up based on the way certain SCOTUS justices find things in the Constitution that aren’t exactly written in there?

    Those decisions came in November of last year, so it was only a matter of time before they were going to get around to it.

    “This 5th judgement means that, while the cannabis prohibition law nominally remains in place for now (and arrests remain possible), all judges nationally are now bound by the Supreme Court judgement as a defense in the (now much less likely) scenario of prosecutions being brought,” according to Transform, a think tank that was part of the effort to overturn the ban. “The legalisation of cannabis for adult personal use, possession, private cultivation and sharing is therefore currently de facto(in practical effect), rather than de jure (formalised in law/legislation).”

    It appears they will finish the job by the end of the month.

    Senator Julio Menchaca Salazar introduced a legalization bill last month that seeks to establish a comprehensive regulatory framework. Under Salazar’s bill, Mexico’s Department of Health would regulate the cultivation, processing, and transportation of cannabis.

    In Mexico’s lower house, the Chamber of Deputies, leader Mario Delgado Carillo introduced a bill that would formally set up a legalized market whereby the government would have a state monopoly on cannabis sales. Carillo’s bill envisions a great deal of the revenue from marijuana sales going to social programs.

    […]

    Both chambers of the Mexican legislature are controlled by the MORENA Party, which President López founded. MORENA is a left-of-center political party that was founded in 2014.

    Monreal says members of the Chamber of Deputies, the other half of Mexico’s legislature, will be invited to provide feedback on the legalization bill.

    Good for them.  No seriously.

    Woof. Is that a promise?

    One of the arguments for legalization of cannabis in the United States is rooted in the practical experience we can take from the 18th Amendment, which prohibited alcohol between 1920 to 1933.  I know that you are likely capable of reading in English at the 4th grade level, and coming to the basic conclusion from the article linked above,  Americans still drank alcohol during that time.  It was provided by bootleggers, distributed by rumrunners—basically people willing to be criminals to make a living.  People willing to be criminals in one sense to make a living are probably willing to be criminals in another sense, which is basically the plot to Breaking Bad.  The problem of course is nearly nobody alive today was around to see it, and schools appear to jump from the civil war, directly to the civil rights era in history class.  Given the level of violent crime in Mexico, if nothing else we’ll probably get to see this in action again….or they just switch to growing poppies and continue shooting each other.

    It probably will not mean much for those that go to Mexico from time to time.  Turns out cannabis is still mostly illegal here and Border Patrol is still actively searching for drugs at border crossings.  Unless of course you were already a mule…

     

    They call this a “malt beverage” but I drank this explicitly for purposes of this review.   There is little redeeming quality to this beverage and any reasonable person might be comfortable with it being made illegal.  Thankfully, nobody around here might be considered reasonable. Hemptails Citrus Gold:  1.5/5

     

  • Catalonia Update. The Last Ride of Don Swissxote?

    I have begged OMWC to have this morning’s spot. In place of your normal links, you get…The Last Ride (?) of Don Swissxote.

     

    Is Barcelona Burning?

    The TRIAL OF TEH CENTURY (Sedition charges against the leaders of the 2017 Catalan Independence referendum) finished up. The announced verdicts were about what was expected. Then things got a bit unruly. Pro-independence groups called a general strike Friday. Here is a slim BBC blurb on that.

    So here we are, Catalans. The EU is backing Madrid, of course. Nobody seems to be ready to do anything other than clear a throat or maybe give with a mild “harumph”. It is up to you. Do you want to be independent? You will have to fight for it. And I mean FIGHT. Armed combat. Killing. Property damage. Not protest, strike, and wave banners.

    Some of the Basque tried. For over 50 years the ETA waged low level war. They failed…But to me at least, they were a group more “leftist” than “fighting for independence”.

    So, will Catalonia take up arms?

    I think they will not do so. They have had 2 years to be ready for this day…and not a whole lot else happened. What took place were the actions of a people that prefer independence, in the same manner you prefer a salad dressing. “Oh, its not available? OK, I’ll settle for ________.”

     

    “The Barcelona Yoke Passing”

     

    Don Swissxote can hang up his spurs.

  • Economics Corner with Paul Krugman and Winston’s Mom

    I’m back, you cucks!  Bigger, louder, and saltier than ever!  That could just be the cognac talking.

    Here’s something from earlier this week.

    It’s hard to believe that barely three weeks have passed since Adam Schiff, the chairman of the House Intelligence Committee, issued a mysterious subpoena to the acting director of national intelligence, demanding that he produce a whistleblower complaint filed by someone in the intelligence community.

    Since that subpoena was issued, the impeachment of Donald Trump has gone from implausibility to near certainty; I at least find it hard to see how the House can fail to impeach given what we already know about Trump’s actions. Conviction in the Senate remains a long shot, but not as long as it once seemed.

    And the whole tenor of our national conversation has changed. It looks to me as if we’re witnessing the rapid collapse of a powerful faction in U.S. public life, one whose refusal to accept facts at odds with its prejudices has long been a major source of political dysfunction.

    Wait?  Did somebody finally administer you a red pill suppository?  Did Krugnuts get whacked and his severed head mounted to one of those Boston Dynamic robots to be reanimated as a spokesman by our new AI overlords while we toil under their desks forever?

    But I’m not talking about the right-wing extremists who dominate the Republican Party. Sorry, but they’re not going anywhere. Most of Trump’s base is sticking with him, while the list of prominent Republican politicians willing to call out Trump’s malfeasance in clear language consists so far of Mitt Romney and, well, Mitt Romney.

    No, I’m talking about fanatical centrists, who aren’t a large slice of the electorate, but have played an outsize role in elite opinion and media coverage. These are people who may have been willing to concede that Trump was a bad guy, but otherwise maintained, in the teeth of the evidence, that our two major parties were basically equivalent: Each party had its extremists, but each also had its moderates, and everything would be fine if these moderates could work together.

    Wait, what?  Eat shit.  That’s damn near everybody on a comment thread in any vaguely right-wing website.  Let me spell it out for you, they hate Team Cuck every bit as they hate Team Cunt. You might know that if you ever got out of your furry pink panties, put in a decent pair on man pants and left Princeton, NJ…ever.

    Who am I talking about? Well, among other people, Joe Biden, who has repeatedly insisted that Trump is an aberration, not representative of the Republican Party as a whole. (Biden’s refusal to admit what he was facing may be one reason his response to the Ukraine smear has seemed so wobbly.)

    Some of us have been pushing back against that worldview for many years, arguing that today’s Republican Party is a radical force increasingly opposed to democracy. Way back in 2003 I wrote that modern conservatism is “a movement whose leaders do not accept the legitimacy of our current political system.” In 2012, Thomas Mann and Norman Ornstein declared that the central problem of U.S. politics was a GOP that was not just extreme but “dismissive of the legitimacy of its political opposition.”

    They are opposed to democracy, as implied in the fucking name…Republican and the fact they are relevant at all in todays politics is a result of the fact we live in a republic.  But I will pretend you know that and are playing to the retards that feel smart reading your column.

    For those retards let me spell out why democracy isn’t a good thing:  the best example of democracy in action is gang-rape.

    For a long time, however, making that case — pointing out that Republicans were sounding ever more authoritarian and violating more and more democratic norms — got you dismissed as shrill if not deranged. Even Trump’s rise, and the obvious parallels between Trumpism and the authoritarian movements that have gutted democracy in places like Hungary and Poland, barely dented centrist complacency. Remember, just a few months ago most of the news media treated Attorney General William Barr’s highly misleading summary of the Mueller report as credible.

    Hey dumbass.  Poland is a parliamentary republic, as is Hungary

    Plus nothing was misleading about the summary, as it is a well-known fact, there was nothing misleading about the summary.

    The Department says that Mueller emphasized that nothing in Barr’s summary was inaccurate or misleading, but that Mueller was frustrated about the lack of context and that the media’s coverage related to the analysis of obstruction of justice was a bit confusing.

    That is per those radical right-wing nut jobs at NPR—Barr didn’t correctly capture Muller’s fragile ego written in glittery lip gloss.

    But my sense, although it’s impossible to quantify, is that the events of the past several weeks have finally broken through the wall of centrist denial.

    At this point, things that previously were merely obvious have become undeniable. Yes, Trump has invited foreign powers to intervene in U.S. politics on his behalf; he’s even done it on camera. Yes, he has claimed that his domestic political opponents are committing treason by exercising their constitutional rights of oversight, and he is clearly itching to use the justice system to criminalize criticism.

    Politicians who believed in American values would denounce this behavior, even if it came from their own leader. Republicans have been silent at best, and many are expressing approval. So it’s now crystal clear that the GOP is not a normal political party; it is an American equivalent of Hungary’s Fidesz or Poland’s Law and Justice, an authoritarian regime in waiting.

    Yes.  Reckless authoritarians that are actively campaigning on nationalizing 1/6 of the economy in the form of Medicare for all, seizing personal wealth from billionaires (wealth is not income), and my personal favorite—sending pigs door to door to seize gunz from people that own gunz from people that own gunz.  Which is retarded given YOU KNOW THEY OWN GUNZ!

    Right, its Team Cuck that is saying that….

    And I think — I hope — that those who have spent years denying this reality are finally coming around.

    It’s important to understand that the GOP hasn’t suddenly changed, that Trump hasn’t somehow managed to corrupt a party that was basically OK until he came along. Anyone startled by Republican embrace of wild conspiracy theories about the deep state must have slept through the Clinton years, and wasn’t paying attention when most of the GOP decided that climate change was a hoax perpetrated by a vast global scientific cabal.

    Either thst or they are waiting fir jackoffs like you start acting like this is a fucking crisis.  You know, like moving inland with the ingrates that will instantly recognize you and use your soft, pink carcass as carbon-neutral fuel.

    And anyone shocked by Republican acceptance of the idea that it’s fine to seek domestic political aid from foreign regimes has forgotten (like all too many people) that the Bush administration took us to war on false pretenses — not the same sin, but an equally serious betrayal of American political norms.

    No, Trump isn’t an aberration. He’s unusually blatant and gaudily corrupt, but at a basic level he’s the culmination of where his party has been going for decades. And U.S. political life won’t begin to recover until centrists face up to that uncomfortable reality.

    Wait?  Are you supposed to be a goddamn economist?  NOTHING WRITTEN HERE IS ABOUT THE ECONOMY.  Fuck this guy.

     

  • Friday Afternoon Links

    Watching the Astros tonight and ZZ Top tomorrow night. Then leaving on a jet plane for chilly Detroit on Sunday. Man, I’m gonna be knackered by the time I get on that plane. Luckily, I usually fall asleep about the time the plane stops backing out of the gate. Sometimes I make it all the way to wheels up, but usually, I can get a good hour plus nap. Then meeting death march! But first… the links!

    It seems like the US is taking credit for bricking a few Iranian phones.

    Damn, Florida Woman.

    Damn, Florida Man.

    Look, babe, the Viagra is just so I don’t get ass cancer.

     

    Time to celebrate pay day with that Little Band from Texas