Peanut

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Sometimes life is just life. For weeks, for years, my wife has been following the fates of red-tailed hawks nesting at the Franklin Institute. There’s a website that shows the nest, the eggs, the hatching, the shifts of both parents bringing food to perpetually hungry mouths, and then, finally, the fledging. First flight.

Last year was especially affecting. Hawks are monogamous. But one day dad didn’t return from a routine foraging expedition. Somehow, he died. Then came the young male web watchers dubbed T2 (for Tercel 2). He stepped right in and did everything possible to raise the three chicks he didn’t sire. Cool, huh?

This year the chicks were his. Three more bobbleheads my wife has been watching in her damaged condition. The fear this year was about the third chick, who hatched days after the first two. We were worried. That he’d be neglected, slow, lost in the fledging race. So many times we’ve seen the last to take wing get into trouble. One year, the first flight of the last chick ended up with a fledgling walking across the JFK Parkway all by his lonesome self while web watchers stopped traffic to save his sorry ass.

Not this year. The first to fly was the one called Peanut, which was the name given to the last chick to hatch. Apparently, he’s the true son of the noble T2. Long may he rule the skies.

My name is nut Peanut. It's Imperator.

My name is not Peanut. It’s Imperator.

Starlet??? Why Breitbart Sucks.

Lindsey Lohan?  Tara Reid? JLo? Jolie? Guess again.

Lindsey Lohan? Tara Reid? JLo? Jolie? Guess again.

Why do I beat up on Breitbart? Because they get all kinds of basics wrong, from spelling to grammar to sentence structure to, well, facts. Their managing editor can’t write a screed without stubbing his toe on English. Breitbart Sports has reporters who lose their way in the middle of a sentence. The Breitbart headline writers have only the vaguest idea about the relation between word order and meaning. My common reaction to Breitbart heads is “huh? What?”

Which reached a kind of zenith today with this headline and teaser copy:

Book Spills Ava Gardner’s Secrets, Shows Steamy Side of Three Star Marriages

A new excerpt from the tell-all “Ava Gardner: The Secret Conversations” reveals the dirt behind the starlet’s three high-profile marriages.

Excuse me. Ava Gardner was no starlet. She was one of the most charismatic female superstars ever to grace the silver screen. She would rank in almost anyone’s top five most beautiful actresses ever. Don’t care who you lead with — Grace Kelly, Rita Hayworth, Marilyn Monroe, Elizabeth Taylor, Greta Garbo — she’s still going to make the list. Of all of them, she’s the only one who had no bad angle. Oh? Really? You didn’t know Rita Hayworth shaved her forehead and Marilyn took amphetamines? Ava was always completely beautiful. Didn’t know that?

Then watch this. Yeah. Watch every minute. I’m serious.

The decisive difference? The cleft chin. Don’t tell me you ever encountered such a bewitching thing. Not to mention all the tits and hips and the fact that you can practically smell her in heat on screen and in part. Maybe the hottest woman who ever lived. All the sluts of today are just passing pikers. Ava Gardner was a courtesan for the ages. A superstar? A goddess. Kardashians be damned. Ava was not a force of media but of nature.

Starlet. What a tool to say it. Breitbart, grow the hell up and buy yourselves some writing talent. Getting tired of reading fake facts and phony punditry.

Collapse

Sometimes, no matter how big you are, you just curl up into a ball and tune everything out.

Sometimes, no matter how big you are, you just curl up into a ball and tune everything out.

Obviously, we’ve been busy here. Falling into a new routine. My wife is gradually becoming nocturnal, sleeping much of the day and staying up most of the night, probably an inherent propensity. That’s my natural rhythm too, but I can’t follow her penchant because I have to feed the seven others in our household beginning at dawn. So we now visit for a few hours a day until one or the other, depending on the clock, dozes off. So be it. But my legs and energy are slowly getting stronger, and we will work through this.

But, also obviously, I’ve pretty much fallen out of the great electronic multiverse. No updates at the languishing other site. Not much here either. I haven’t even checked my email and text messages. No stomach for it. Getting used to isolation. The island writ supreme.

Perhaps that gives rise to paranoia, but when I check Drudge, as I still do from time to time, what I’m seeing now is a series of snapshots of collapse. In just five years, the United States has plunged into a state of ruin. The CIA can’t stop one renegade whistleblower from fleeing through five hostile countries. The government officials and officeholders can’t (or won’t) remember that the real outrage is what he revealed about the destruction of American privacy and liberty, which is supposedly what we were defending from the Islamist (who?) terror threat. They’d much prefer to scream for the whistleblower’s head. So called conservatives are ready, willing, and able to pass another gigantic pork laden bill without reading it, all for the purpose of placating their own funding sources and lobbyist cronies. The president is utterly and completely AWOL, jetting from one irrelevant place to another, silent as the tomb about everything important and maundering on about climate control while all the world’s most ambitious powers laugh in his face. Meanwhile the nation’s press is collectively cutting its own throat, and ours, by choosing to push the narrative that there are no real scandals — not NSA, not PRISM, not the IRS, not Benghazi, not HHS extortion, not even freedom of the press. David Gregory yesterday aligned NBC with the DOJ’s position that a reporter who receives a story objectionable to the government from a lawbreaking whistleblower is a co-conspirator subject to prosecution. Oh yeah. And the stock market is beginning to go south.

The constitution, the Bill of Rights, and the nation’s global power and influence are all in tatters.

It’s called collapse. But all of us are too busy to notice, right? We have our own schedules, appointments, and personal commitments to keep us diverted from the exponentially cascading end of the American Experiment. None of this is as important as what I’m doing today and tomorrow. (Uh, hardly.)

God help us all. But he’s got a very good reason by my lights to be too busy too.

What we deserve no doubt. Still horrifying and sickening to witness. Or have we all just stopped watching?

PS. Couldn’t resist this because it’s sooo symbolic. On the feminist front, MADD has agreed that illegal immigrants with two DUIs should still be eligible for amnesty. Even the most ostentatiously self-righteous humanistic causes aren’t about solving problems anymore. They’re about promoting ever bigger government by mindlessly endorsing all leftist policies. Can’t wait for the position of MADCAT (Mothers Against Dangerous Cell-phoning and Texting) with regard to middle eastern immigrants. Since every Indian and Pakistani and Arab in retail is on his cellphone 100 percent of the time, all day, every day, even if no mere paying customer can get their attention. Who cares if they’re buying pirated Bollywood films or pressure cookers? I’m sure MADCAT’s tolerance will be nearly infinite. Collapse.

The Island

When push comes to shove, we're always together.

When push comes to shove, we’re always together.

Amazing. People are like cats. When one of them is hurt or sick or injured, cats react by becoming hostile or isolate.

The same thing happens with people. Especially when someone is regarded as normally invulnerable. How they wind up on the island. Nobody wants to confront the reality that the supermen of their lives can be laid low by anything.

Why dogs really are superior. Their impulse when you’re hurt or alone is to get closer, even if there’s some barking and snarling involved.

Actually, we hate each other. Most of the time.

Actually, we hate each other. Most of the time.

Nobody likes it, nobody wants to believe that my wife, Boudica, is really hurt. They’d prefer to stay away and pretend it didn’t happen or isn’t serious.

My friends the same. Not realizing or wanting to know that there is no me without her.

Um. One exception. The one who has been here throughout. Call her Boudica Junior.

Who do you want me to kill?

Who do you want me to kill?

Why we’re not alone on the Island.

PS. No dog is an island.

I admit it it. He's OK. Mostly.

I admit it it. He’s OK. Mostly.

Time for Punks

I'm a Christian. Sure I am.

I’m a Christian. Sure I am.

Time to quit pretending this joker wants anything but the conversion of the United States into a Third World barbarian tribal state.

The Catholic media is up in arms over comments President Obama made during a speech while in Northern Ireland for the G8 summit. Obama made what is described as “an alarming call for an end to Catholic education,” in spite of the fact that it is considered “a critical component of the Church.”In front of an audience of about 2,000 young people, including many Catholics, Obama claimed that Catholic education divides people and blocks peace, according to the Scottish Catholic Observer.

“If towns remain divided -— if Catholics have their schools and buildings and Protestants have theirs, if we can’t see ourselves in one another and fear or resentment are allowed to harden—that too encourages division and discourages cooperation,” Obama said

Catholic World News noted:

Ironically, President Obama made his comments just as Archbishop Gerhard Müller, the prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, told a crowd in Scotland that religious education upholds the dignity of the human person. Archbishop Müller said that Catholic schools should promote “all that is good in the philosophies of societies and human culture.”

Fr. John Zuhlsdorf quoted the Observer’s article on Fr. Z’s blog and added:

Another example of what this man wants: total isolation of any religious values in the private sphere alone. Pres. Obama is working either to intimidate or legislate or even TAX religious freedom out of the public square.

Off the top of my head, I can’t think of a foreign visit to an Islamic nation where he told people on his arrival that they shouldn’t have Madrases. Can you?

Did he when visiting, say, Israel, say “You Jews shouldn’t have synagogue schools and you muslims shouldn’t have mosque schools.” I can’t remember. Did The Catholic media is up in arms over comments President Obama made during a speech while in Northern Ireland for the G8 summit. Obama made what is described as “an alarming call for an end to Catholic education,” in spite of the fact that it is considered “a critical component of the Church.”

.

Time for everyone to throw away labels like conservative and liberal. Our president will do anything to defend Islamists from “profiling.” Meanwhile he does everything he can to prevent Christians and Jews from sustaining a culture that has no other solid underpinning.

What’s the year? 1938. If you can’t see how dire our situation is, you don’t deserve even to be alive.

Shammadamma.

The clock is ticking…

Marco Rubio, 2016

Marco Rubio, 2016

Like many many Americans, my wife thinks Marco Rubio is cute. She hates it when I point out that he’s balding faster than Bruce Willis in his Moonlighting TV series and already has the look of a fat man ready to burst out of a young body. You know that look. It’s the look most corrupt old urban pols had before they started bloating up on bribes in office.

But this isn’t a political post. It’s just a warning to all you charisma junkies. Prompted by my seeing Sarah Palin on Fox & Friends this morning. She was co-hosting. In a miniskirt and strappy spike heels.

Not quite her outfit today, but it was still in the ballpark.

Not quite her outfit today, but it was still in the ballpark.

Amazing woman. After all the disgusting sexual insult and abuse she has been subjected to, she’s still not afraid to be the hot chick absolutely everyone knows she is.

Trust me. I've got this.

Trust me. I’ve got this.

Marco’s little spike of popularity is wilting. If not today, then soon and for the rest of his life. Count on it.

Father Figures

Sometimes he tells me "No."

Sometimes he tells me “No.”

It was Father’s Day. Got the usual cards and stuff, but all I am anymore is a grandfather. Marooned as we are, we celebrated the day mostly by watching movies, two we sat through and one I only saw advertised because I don’t need to see it again.

First up was “To Kill a Mockingbird.” Which, to be honest, I’ve had my problems with over the years. Not because I mind a movie in which nothing whatever happens for the first two or three hours, but because I feel mockingbirds are seriously misrepresented. They’re absolutely not little Billy Budds on the wing. They are highly intelligent, devious, and frequently malicious little bastards who deserve a comeuppance as much as slicksters and conmen of any other species. I remember a mocker who decided on slight evidence that a cat named Tigger had assaulted his nest. (Yeah, he was probably guilty but the case was purely circumstantial…) For two weeks thereafter, Tigger couldn’t take a step outside without being dive-bombed, chased, and driven into the bushes alongside the house.

It reached a climax when I was finally present to witness the extremity of Tigger’s distress. The mocker stationed himself on a telephone wire in front of the house, like a middle linebacker shadowing the quarterback. Whenever, wherever Tigger moved, the attack came like a furious pass rush. One time tough guy Tigger cringed and tried to press his body into the foundation of the house. While the mocker returned to the wire and laughed, yes, laughed at his victim.

I’d had enough. I got the hose, turned the nozzle to the “jet” setting and blasted the little sonofabitch off the wire. Then I did it again. Which is all it took to show the newly moistened maniac that the first time wasn’t an accident. He left Tigger alone after that. But don’t try to sell me on the crapola that mockingbirds are God’s defenseless little sweethearts.

Where were we? Oh, right. The fraudulence of the central metaphor aside, the movie is an excellent representation of a lost ideal of fatherhood. It reminds my wife of her own father, and it reminds me of my paternal grandfather. Yes, there really were such men. Believe it and experience the sorrow of not having such a one in your own life. Men whose natural gravity and goodness sufficed to replace angry words, punishment, and lectures. The very worst thing you could possibly do was disappoint their abiding faith in you, and you’d do anything to prevent that catastrophe.

I almost never watch movies multiple times, and I avoid TKAM because it always makes me miss the key figure of my childhood, but I watched it all the way through again last night. This time, an old man myself, I found myself fixated on the suits Atticus Finch wore in every scene. He wasn’t a dandy. He was just dressed for behaving with politesse and honor, dressed for living up to the demands of life. I miss that more than I can say. There are no role models in track suits.

Next up was Life with Father, which old time Hollywood turned into a fairly broad comedy with father as the reliably stuffy, unobservant Victorian punchline. The movie itself is entertaining, a Technicolor delight starring William Powell, Irene Dunne, and a very young Elizabeth Taylor. But I was reminded of the book it came from, in which Father comes across rather differently, not as a punchline but the rock-ribbed anchor of a household. Neither unkind nor hopelessly rigid, he set an example of duty, firm principle, and magnanimous authority that is also missing in action today.

Finally, the one I didn’t want to, didn’t need to watch again: Searching for Bobby Fischer. Another necessary variety of father, the one who drives his offspring to fulfill the very best they are capable of. In our time, such pressure looks indistinguishable from child abuse. But it isn’t when the men behind it are motivated by love and faith rather than narcissism. We need more fathers who make serious demands on their children, not just in terms of accomplishment but character, morality, and discipline.

I meant this to be a positive post. Why do I feel that Father’s Day has slowly become a kind of Memorial Day, mostly devoted to remembering what is irretrievably lost?

Da Nile

If you're a pharaoh, everything you do is cool.

If you’re a pharaoh, everything you do is cool.

So we have ourselves a pharaoh. A god-king. Just what the founders had in mind. (Excuse me. I’ve just been corrected in the Comments. The “founding founders.“)

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King Tut was all golden and shiny, famous in the end for being famous and shiny, not for anything he actually accomplished. He just had more stuff than we ever found with any other pharaoh. That will be Obama’s legacy too. More pictures with Beyonce, LeBron, and other gilded idols than any other president ever had.

Just how stupid are we? A symbolic pagan god-king can be absent from the history of his own time. (It’s impossible to name ANY historical event King Tut was involved in.) But if we want more from our leaders than golden masks and divine gestures, we should be liberal and modern enough to demand that they actually be present during their rule.

What we never get from our own American god-king. Almost a year later, we have no information at all about where he was on the night of Benghazi. Except that he had a fundraising date in Vegas next day. He made one strong remark about the IRS scandal and has been silent since. He endorses Holder, promotes Susan Rice, and says nothing, nothing, nothing about the NSA or ANY of the multiplying scandals of his administration. He just wears his suits to usual good effect.

God-kings don’t have to be leaders. Good. Because he isn’t. Not a single leadership gene in his whole fucking body. God-kings just have to have golden masks.

Ain't I fucking wonderful? Even LeBron let's me dunk on him.

Ain’t I fucking wonderful? Even LeBron lets me dunk on him.

The only question is why we as a people have so nostalgically reincarnated the mentality of ancient Egyptians. When you figure it out, please let Chris Matthews know…

Well, not the only question. There are others. Why do you still think you would have stood up in all the great moral crises in history? That you’d have been an abolitionist, a suffragist, a civil rights activist, a heroic anti-Nazi in 1930s Germany? Why are you not screaming all day long and all night long right now? Until you’re hoarse and broken and bleeding from a rage that cannot be voiced without injuring your mind and body. Why can’t you see that the current siege of scandals is more notice than most people ever get of their chance to be importantly moral?

Oh. I forgot. You love Beyonce’s ass and Obama’s celebrity schedule too. A golden mask is always, well, golden. Ain’t it? Not to mention a Golden Ass, always turned toward those who would kiss it forever…

The Golden Hind. Francis Drake's bitch. You'd have kissed that ass too.

The Golden Hind. Francis Drake’s bitch. You’d have kissed that ass too.

All it ever has to be is a royal ass. Unless you still think you’re immune. Still, you know, in Da Nile.

Almost Time for Tebow Time

Remember the Road Warrior? Teamwork is essential.

Teamwork is essential.

Two key personnel announcements this week. Tim Tebow is joining the New England Patriots. Right. And Sarah Palin is joining Fox News as an analyst. Right. First sign she’s really going to run for president. The big news, you see, will be when she resigns from Fox News a year or so from now. Informal announcement of candidacy. Tim should be available by then too.

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You can see how it’s going to go. Sarah will run, the treacherous slime balls of the MSM will attack her in the vilest, most sexually demeaning ways possible, and then…

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Tebow time!

I don’t know about you. I can’t wait.