The Hydra Problem

After the French Revolution, the majority Jacobin party created the ironically-named Committee of Public Safety (the first soviet) and through that body instituted the Reign of Terror, the goal of which was to stamp out all vestiges of Royalist and religious (in those days, “right-wing”) support and causes.

(An aside:  for those who aren’t familiar with the period, the political terms “Left” and “Right” are derived from the French Legislative Assembly, in which the Jacobins and their allies sat on the left side of the chamber, and the Royalist- and Church supporters on the right.)

Over time, the Committee of Public Safety (note how the Left appropriated the word “safety” to their own purposes;  sic semper tyrannis ) came to be dominated by Maxim Robespierre (who was not a working class revolutionary, but a middle-class lawyer — some things just never change).  As the CPS became more and more extreme, and the guillotine was extended not just to the hapless King and Queen and sundry nobility, but to anyone considered to be a “counter-revolutionary”, the spiral of violence spread outward further and further, until literally anyone could be arrested and tried for “treason”.  Needless to say, the Reign of Terror was often used to “purge” opposition within the country (and within the Party), and it lasted for about a year.

Then Robespierre overplayed his hand, and stated that he had discovered a list of “counter-revolutionaries” —  whom he refused to name — whereupon the other members of the CPS clubbed together in what became known as the Thermidorean Revolution, and had Robespierre guillotined.

And just like that, the Reign of Terror ended.

I read The Great Awokening (via Insty, thankee Squire), and one rather gloomy paragraph stood out (emphasis mine):

The other day, I saw a tweet from a group of armed Texans ensuring the Alamo was protected. A great many Rightists praised them, and while I agree that it was a good thing, I disagree that this means anything in the long run. Eventually Texas will go Leftist. In a decade. Two, maybe. I don’t have a good handle on any kind of timeline, but it will. And then the Antifas will burn it down. Do you think activists have forgotten that Texas was a slave-owning society that took land from Mexico? That’s how they’re going to see it.
You might save the Alamo today. You won’t tomorrow. They will come, one day.

The modern-day Jacobins, or “Wokists”, practice a philosophy composed of nihilism, aggrievement and terror (in its modern sense:  the fear of being “canceled”, or losing one’s job, or actual physical attack by a mob).

All the BLM / Antifa / Marxist slogans and such are just packaging of their true purpose which, as any student of history knows well, is to rule over others.

Of greater concern to us, as conservatives, is that so far there has been no single figure emerging as the leader of Wokism — not even a modern-day “Committee of Public Safety”.  Instead, we are faced with a decentralized command system of cadres who are probably not even fully aware of other such cadres, but who are all more or less united behind the principles of Wokism, such as they are.

There is no Robespierre, the removal of whom might put an end to this Reign of Terror.  As is so often the case, there is no magic silver bullet [sic]  solution to the problem.  The Woke-Left has it easy, because  they have a single figure they can attack:  Donald Trump;  we have no such target, because Wokism is diffused among the academia, the media, the entertainment industry, corporations — and most especially, the technocracy of mega-entities like Google and Apple which control the Internet.

There are only two ways that we, as conservatives and Constitutionalists, can resist this feral and malignant movement:  one is to keep resisting, just as the group protecting the Alamo did, and as others are doing all over the country, by gathering in groups to protect property and livelihoods in our own neighborhoods.  It takes a lot of effort, and is fraught with danger in that one day, as certainly as the sun rises in the east, the bullets will start to fly.  I only hope that they start it, and not we.  (This is why the Wokists are so anti-Second Amendment, of course:  they want a monopoly on violence, but are prevented from going full Jacobin because the outcome would not be decided by the state cannons of 13 Vendémiaire, but by the modern-day militiamen of Red America.)

Another path of resistance is to keep voting conservatives — in the true sense of the word, people who wish to preserve our Republic and its Constitution — like Trump into power.  This has to be done not just at the national level, although that helps a great deal;  it has to be done at all levels:  municipality, county, and state.  (The effectiveness of popular revolt as characterized by “Second Amendment sanctuary” jurisdictions is proof of the need for voting local conservatives into office.)  Note that the Wokists are actively trying to overcome this by ballot-box stuffing means like mail-in voting, which is why we have to fight tooth and nail against such wickedness.

As has become quite obvious over the past few weeks, this is not a battle which will be won in the cities, :  this is a neighborhood battle.  The cities are lost, and our only hope is that they will collapse and burn, both figuratively and literally.

Absent the two ways above, we can only hope that Wokeism will turn on itself and self-destruct — which may happen, but remember that the Reign of Terror lasted for over a year and frankly, I’m not that patient.  Nor am I content to hope that this will actually happen sooner rather than later, and that a Chief-Commissar Wokist may emerge to make himself a target.

All it takes is resolution, participation in the electoral process, and a willingness to be part of the citizen militia — our citizen militia, and not the Wokists of BLM, Pantifa and the Democrat Party.  In this respect, we are in a far better position than the anti-Jacobins of Revolutionary France, but the forces aligned against us are also in a better position than their murderous counterparts in the late 18th century.

Oh, And By The Way: Fuck You

If anything can bring on a RCOB Moment, bullshit like this would be in the Top 3:

NPR Advises Readers to ’Decolonize” Their Bookshelves by Removing White Authors

If I did that, all I’d be left with are books by Thomas Sowell and Walter Williams.  Just so we’re clear on what’s being discussed here:

Since that pic was taken, quite a few have since been passed out to the Ungrateful Wretched Children (e.g. the Great Books collection on the right, snatched up by the Son&Heir, and on the top right, the Classic Novels, appropriated by Daughter).

If those motherfucking Commies at NPR think I’m going to “decolonize” my book collection to rid myself of “the colonialist ideas of narrative, storytelling, and literature”, I have news for them.  What they call “colonialist”, I call “classical” — they can’t just change the language to fit their little politically-correct narrative.

Well actually, they can — I just don’t have to go along with it.  And I won’t.

Here’s a thought.  If we’re going to get all purge-y and such, let’s not fuck around with bookcases.  Let’s get serious:

Waffen Durch Plastik

Yeah, I’ve noticed this alarming development too:

Taking a look at some of the most popular firearms companies, I was honestly a bit shocked to see how the synthetic/polymer/laminate wood stocks have come to dominate the market. The vast majority of RugerRemington and Savage rifles and shotguns are stocked in something other than walnut. The Winchester Model 70 maintains a walnut stock advantage, as does the lineup of Winchester lever-action rifles, but synthetic-stocked lever-actions are popping up regularly these days; Marlin and Henry being two examples which come quickly to mind.

This bullshit is something I’ve bemoaned ever since I was first able to hold a gun.  Here’s why:

A well-sealed walnut stock will actually stand up well to most hunting situations, though they aren’t as rigid or easy to produce as a synthetic stock. While the mass-produced stocks are created by machinery, the higher-end walnut stocks are finished by hand. Custom stocks are a work of art, and to watch a classically trained stockmaker hand-carve a stock is like watching Michelangelo work. Names like Ralf Martini, Todd Ramirez, D’Arcy Echols, Mark Renmant and JJ Perodeau, just to name a few, can make the stock of your dreams. And I firmly believe that, like a fine watch, everyone should own at least one gun with a stock they are truly proud of.

That’s part of it, but not all of it.  I love the feel of a wooden stock in my hands, a feeling that is entirely absent when I hold a piece of fucking plastic.  Wood is warm, it feels natural and somehow seems to form a bond between gun and man in a way that some synthetic material just… doesn’t.

And I don’t buy this “wood warps and pushes the barrel out of register” bullshit.  I’ve shot rifles in some pretty damn extreme conditions (African heat and Wisconsin cold, not to mention Scotland windy and wet) and I have never experienced that, in any rifle.  I suppose it could  happen, if the stock is too tight against the metal (which it shouldn’t be to begin with);  I’ve just never noticed it.

Frankly, I think the clue to this nonsense lies in here:

Those [wood] stocks—even the blanks from which they are made—are not cheap. The custom walnut stock is extremely labor-intensive, and the highly figured walnut, which was much more common a century ago, has become a rarity. Many of the hardwood stocks in use today are rather plain looking, and the figured stocks come at a premium, for certain.

Much easier, cheaper and more “efficient” (fuck, I’m starting to hate that word) just to pour some polymer crap into a mold and screw the rifle action in, ten seconds’ work and all done.

Bah.

I have only two rifles with Tupperware stocks — my Marlin 880SQ and 882SSV rimfire rifles — simply because Marlin doesn’t offer those two models with wood stocks, and it’s a long-term project of mine to replace the soulless black plastic with wood, one day, even though the stocks will probably end up costing me more than the original rifles themselves.

Compare the above with the rifle below, and tell me I’m wrong.

Let’s not even GO here:

(I note, by the way, that fine shotguns seldom come with PoliGrip stocks, so that’s all I need to say about that.)

I know:  yelling about this is like moaning about the wind-tunnel shape of modern cars — it’s pointless, and as a trend, plastic stocks are no doubt here forever.

But I’ll tell you this (and it’s a promise):  the day that new rifles are ONLY offered with plastic stocks is the day I stop buying new rifles altogether.

Character

I always enjoy reading Theodore Dalrymple’s articles, and this one at Taki’s Mag is no exception because as he takes on the topic of modern architects and their pulchriphobia (fear of beauty), he drops little diamonds like this into the discussion:

Taste is very revelatory of character, and though we live in an age in which we delight to talk of ourselves, in fact we do so while carefully protecting ourselves from true self-revelation or true self-examination.

Longtime Readers will know that while this may be true of a lot of people, there’s a distinct lack of that nonsense in this little corner of the Internet — most especially when it comes to discussions of architecture, or guns, or cars, or women, or practically anything which can be beautiful or made beautifully.

Pulchriphilia is more the order of the day, here.  How could it be otherwise when I marvel at things like this:

or this:

or this:

or (wrenching myself unwillingly away from further contemplation of Suzanne Pleshette) this:

…or, to return to the article’s original topic, buildings such as this:

Going along with Dalrymple’s quote above, I am quite aware that my classification of all the above as “beautiful” may reveal aspects of my character, and to be honest, I don’t care a fig.  I am what I am, it is what it is, and each of the above is a perfect example of the eponymous poem by John Keats:

A THING OF BEAUTY is a joy forever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o’er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
’Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven’s brink.

Having pulchriphobia means denying the spirit that endless fountain, and we are much the poorer for its loss.  Here’s Keats’s musk-rose:

Pause a while and smell it, while listening to this.

First They Came For The Airline Stewardesses

Back in the day when airline flying meant a chance to ogle some beautiful young women in uniform, they were called “stewardesses” or “stews”.  Often, the airlines enforced a “no married women” and even an age limit policy for the stews because, the reasoning went, if the stews had families, they’d be affected by the absense of Mommy while she’d be out of town so often.  So We The Passengers had to put up with stuff like this:

 

Then some asswipe in Big Airline HR decided that this was eeeevil  and anti-womyns  or something, with the result that nowadays, international flights resemble Grab-A-Granny Night at TGI Friday, or Open Bar Night at The Villages.  (No pics, I can’t bear the thought.)

Then last year, Sports Illustrated  took some shit because, and I quote:

“…the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue  doesn’t care about plus-sized women, athletes, or religious models. It cares about staying relevant while also profiting off men buying a magazine to drool over hot women. These silly claims of empowerment through the swimsuit issue cannot change the fact that pages of sexualized women marketed toward men are inherently sexist, insulting, and gross.”

(I even talked about it here.)

Needless to say, the stupids at Sports Illustrated  decided to make their crap magazine yet more crappy, by taking the above criticism to heart for this year’s T&A issue, hence this appalling prospect:

Wait till you see the “plus-sized” (i.e. grossly overweight) entrant… it’ll put you off chocolate cake for life.  (By the way, the granny in the above pic is quite hot, IMO, but if yer gonna put some granny-aged totty in a bikini, why not someone like Sharon Stone, or Stephanie Seymour?)

This modern attitude towards women’s bodies is starting to get to me.  As are the Woke Generation, in toto.