Iniquitous Theft

I was watching some stupid BBC-TV show about how a titled earl’s mansion was saved from ruin only by royal intervention (Prince Charles and his Prince’s Trust), and how the place was restored to its former glory and was now in essence a museum (said earl having relinquished title to the property many decades ago).

Which house and which earl is not important.  What was not said was why the place had to be abandoned in the first place, which can be summed up in just two words:  inheritance taxes.

Of all instances of government bastardy — and there are thousands — this is the one which gets my goat, because there are two major principles in play, and neither of them is good.

1)  The State decides that your property doesn’t really belong to you, so the gummint takes part of it it away from you (or more properly, from your heirs) after your death and puts it into their coffers.  It’s nothing less than fucking theft, pure and simple.

2)  The principle that “unearned income” — i.e. that your wealth gets passed on to your heirs, who didn’t work for it and therefore it should be treated as a windfall — is a bad thing because it simply perpetuates the wealth inequality of society.  The underlying Marxist lie that underpins this idea is self-explanatory:  that wealth is a finite quantity, and that keeping it in the family prevents others in society from benefiting from it.  (Never mind that history shows that almost all  great fortunes are dissipated within four — and usually three — generations because of multiple heirs, wastage, poor judgement and so on.)

What we also know is that inheritance taxes do not affect the very wealthy much, if at all, because they protect their property by a multitude of (perfectly-legal) tax avoidance schemes.  Instead, the taxes hit the middle classes (and especially family business owners and farmers) hardest of all.

So it’s all very well for HRH the Prince of Wales to come riding in on his faerie chariot and save some great house from ruin, when in fact it was the policies of his (and his forerunners’) government that was the principle cause of that ruin in the first place.

Just so we know the extent of the villainy:  the family was going to be forced to sell off the household effects to help pay the bills.  Which sounds trivial except that the earl was the owner of the largest collection of Chippendale furniture in the world (simply because the fifth earl had seen the first-ever catalog of the Chippendale Brothers furniture company in the 1750s, liked what he saw and bought hundreds of pieces of the stuff for his new country home, and all of which had stayed in the house ever since).  To give you an idea of its worth:  just one large glass-fronted bookcase — now being used to house some of the family’s equally-valuable china — would have fetched at auction around £20 million, and each of the hundreds of Chippendale chairs around £50,000… yes, each.

All the household goods had been packed up in an eighteen-wheeler, and were actually halfway to the auction house in London when the truck was intercepted and turned back to the house.  All very heroic stuff — and all completely unnecessary.

What’s interesting is that here in Murka, where we don’t even have titles and such, the popular antipathy towards inheritance taxes is profound — something like 80% of people polled hate the very idea of it, even though the vast majority of people are unlikely ever to be affected by inheritance taxes.

That’s because we’re not stupid, and we can recognize theft when we see it.  It’s the principle of the matter, and as this nation was founded upon principle, we can recognize its villainy where other countries’ inhabitants might not.


By the way, here’s the Wikipedia entry for Dumfries House.

Hatin’ On Them People

Wow.  How about this for a headline?

Keynote speaker at Bob Jones University diversity conference says Muslims should be ‘locked up’

Just kidding.  Here’s the actual headline:

Keynote speaker at Harvard diversity conference says Christians should be ‘locked up’

Read the rest, if you feel like it.  Then load up yer favorite gun and a couple hundred rounds of ammo, and head out to the range.  That’s what I’m going to do, later.

Fuck ’em.

Strange Agreement

Okay, mark today on your calendars, because I happen to agree with NYFC’s Commie Mayor:

Mayor de Blasio: ‘We Are Going to Ban’ Glass and Steel Skyscrapers

Okay, my reasons for agreement are not the same as his reasons for this policy.  He wants to ban glass and steel skyscrapers because of oh-so-fashionable Green reasons, while I want to ban them because they’re cold and fugly.

Long ago, I used to work across the road from this  Helmut Jahn-designed monstrosity:

…and I just loved  those afternoons when my office was turned into a combination sauna / tanning salon.  The company had to invest in smoked-glass office windows and blinds for an entire floor because of this bullshit.

They’re also a menace:  try driving in a city at dawn or sunset, turning a corner and being utterly blinded by the sunlight’s reflection off some architect’s wet dream.

One of my favorite scenes in a movie was the last few seconds of Fight Club, where a whole bunch of glass skyscrapers are blown up.

I have an alibi.

Down The Toilet

Every so often I get a Red Curtain Of Blood (RCOB) descending over my eyes that is so massive and so intense that I frighten small AND large children.  Well, it’s a damn good thing that there were no children around when I read this  little suggestion:

Janet Street-Porter argues that Notre-Dame shouldn’t be rebuilt… – and that the money should go to ‘more worthy causes’

And what, exactly, are these “worthy causes” of which she speaks?  You know  what they are, but let her tell you herself:

‘If you go less than 10 miles to the suburbs in Paris, large parts – they’ve had some money poured into them but it’s a problem the government can’t solve.
‘People are living in poverty, illegally, there’s drug dealing, gang warfare, and parts of Paris that the police won’t go to.
‘So where are these billionaires, why aren’t they coughing up for that? What about all the poor people in Calais? Where’s all the money to help them?’

Right there is the liberal mindset.   After admitting that Gummint has poured money — not “some”, by the way, but countless millions — and the problem is still insoluble, Our Girl Janet wants wealthy individuals to pour still MOAR MONEY (their own money, duh) into the festering garbage dumps at Calais and the banlieus  surrounding Paris, despite the repeated failure of state money to solve the problems.

Trotskyist bitch.  Take from the rich, and pour it down a shithole, just so you  can feel better that Something Has Been Done.  Marxism in a nutshell:  intentions are more important than outcomes.

And by the way, Janet, you rancid old tart, it’s not about the money, nor even about the French:  it’s about a priceless part of Western heritage and culture (I know, all the stuff that Marxists hate).  And the truth of my statement is that it’s not only the French who visit Notre-Dame Cathedral in their millions each year, but people from all over the world.  Good grief, when I was there a few years ago, I never heard a single word of French spoken among the teeming crowds who were braving a bitterly cold and rainy day to visit the place.

And good for the French billionaires who’ve stepped up to the (collection) plate and pledged hundreds of millions of dollars towards the rebuild.  Civic spirit, generosity, and respect for a nation’s heritage and culture are always to be commended

Lastly, I should also point out that were it not for France’s iniquitous and punitive income- and wealth taxes, said billionaires would have been able to give even more  of their own money towards the project.  But let’s not quibble about a few hundred million here or there, right?

Another RCOB?

Oh, why not:

Conservative French politicians expressed concern Thursday about the prospect of modern architecture being added to Notre-Dame cathedral after the government invited design proposals for a new roof and spire.
Politicians from France’s right-wing Republicans and far-right National Rally (RN) party called on the government to restore the cathedral exactly as it was before the devastating fire broke out on Monday evening.
French President Emmanuel Macron has set a five-year target for the reconstruction to be completed and has said ‘an element of modern architecture could be imagined.’

Of course  it could be imagined… in FrogPres Macron’s own tiny little Tranzi-modernist brain.  Amongst normal-thinking people, however, it would be a disgusting insult.

Towards the end of the linked article, there’s this thought:

One of the most controversial additions to Paris in recent times was the glass pyramid built in front of the Louvre palace in central Paris.
Hated by many Parisians when it was unveiled by Chinese-American architect I. M. Pei, it has celebrated its 30th birthday and has become an attraction in its own right.

I remember standing outside the Louvre in (I think) 2005, chatting to an older French man who’d stepped outside for a cigarette.  I pointed at the pyramid and asked him what he and his friends thought of it.  He snorted.

“I tell you, mon ami,” he said, “if those Arab terrorists had flown an airliner into this  foul thing [cette chose répugnante], in France they would have been considered heroes and not terrorists.”

Here’s another take.

And from Michael Brendan Dougherty comes this exquisite sentiment:

“I promise right now. If you try to rebuild it as a ‘secular’ Notre Dame, reflecting the political priorities of 2019, I will do my damndest to see that the next fire takes it all down. I won’t come alone.”

Sign me up, Mike.

And Another Institution Burns To The Ground

Hardly had the smoke dissipated from the Notre Dame fire when this catastrophe befell us:

Classical masterpieces, orchestral prowess and sense of occasion have come to define the Proms over the years.
But purists may raise an eyebrow this time around – as the BBC plan to feature hip hop and break dancing.
This year, the concert series will include ‘The Breaks’ – a prom designed to ‘honour the global phenomenon of hip hop and breakbeat culture’. The concert – on September 6 – is likely to spark criticism from traditionalists.
But yesterday, Proms director David Pickard insisted the time was ripe for it as the divisions between musical genres are ‘being broken down’.
He said: ‘I think the Proms needs to reflect what is happening to music in 2019. DJing and concertos for turntables are now part of the classical world.’ But he warned the BBC would not ‘necessarily’ edit foul language if it is there in ‘a good artistic context’.

As an exercise in “artistic context”, I’d like to tie this little modernist milquetoast to a chair and beat him with heavy chains.

FFS, we don’t need more exposure to modern music — it assails our ears in shops, restaurants, malls, from passing teenagers’ inadequate headphones as they walk by us in the street, and from stereo speakers more valuable than the cars which encase them as they stand next to us at the traffic light.  And it is not repeat NOT “part of the classical world”, unless your idea of “classical” includes lyrics which refer to women as bitches and whores in every other line, and four times during the chorus.  It’s fucking jungle music — all beat and little melody — and if someone takes offense at the word “jungle”, I invite you to visit any part of the African wilderness and listen to the kind of music that is performed there, and explain to me the difference.  And now this swill is going to be featured at the Proms… and isn’t that  special?

What the Proms used to give the public was exposure to some of the greatest music ever created, music of exquisite beauty, unparalleled technical expertise and sophistication born of an unmatched cultural heritage — and boy, are we ever in need of more of that, these days.  Instead, we’re going to hear “songs” from some asswipe called N’Jiggy featuring overpowering bass, over-loud drums and underwhelming artistic value other than (you heard it here first) a few “sampled” fragments of Beethoven’s Ninth scatted around like diamonds in a pigsty.

Fuck that, I’m going to the range.  I may or may not affix a picture of David Pickard to the target.