Category Archives: Humour

Brexit ‘no deal’ means Britons will be barred from taking pets to the continent, Michel Barnier warns


By Andy Duncan

While the EU’s Geheime Staatspolizei worry themselves about the UK exiting their moribund empire, and hopefully hastening its existential collapse, they’ve threatened economic blockades and political isolation, all to little effect, except perhaps to induce weeping amongst the state-subsidised Guardian-reader Remainer class. However, now they’ve wheeled out yet another dastardly blackmail threat, in perhaps the most ultimate sanction of all. They’re apparently now going to ban British people from taking their pets to Europe! As the UK has long been a nation of impassioned animal lovers, this is travelling way below the belt. I’ve yet to feel the absolute need to take my polished pitch-fork to the White Cliffs of Dover to wave it at the Cap Gris Nez, and the adjoining Pas-de-Calais, but that time may soon be approaching.

Andy Duncan is an Honorary Vice-President of Mises UK and also the Chief Technology Officer of FinLingo.Com

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The Death of Comedy?


Yesterday, Dr Sean Gabb spoke on the Stephen Nolan show, on BBC Radio 5, about a joke made by Michael Gove on BBC Radio 4’s ‘Today’ programme.

Below, we have excerpted all of Dr Gabb’s comments made in that interview. If you would like to listen to them, please click on the audio file link below.

(The interviewer spent quite some time speaking to another guest,  Shelagh Fogarty, both before and after Dr Gabb’s comments. If you would like to listen to the full interview, please click on this link and go to about 1:56:45.)

Michael Gove and Harvey Weinstein: No Laughing Matter at the BBC


Michael Gove and Harvey Weinstein:
No Laughing Matter at the BBC

Sean Gabb
27th October 2017

Every so often, I promise myself never to go on the broadcast media again. I think this is a promise I should now think of keeping.

Earlier today, the 27th October 2017, the Conservative politician Michael Gove compared being interviewed by John Humphreys to being taken into Harvey Weinstein’s bedroom. Everyone laughed until some radio presenter called Shelagh Fogarty set off a virtue spiral with claims that the joke “trivialised” victims of sexual assault. The ritual condemnations rolled in at once, and Mr Gove apologised.

Probably because no one else was willing, I was begged to go on BBC Radio 5 this evening and discuss the matter with Miss Fogarty on the Stephen Nolan Show. I finally agreed.

The points I made were these: Read more

BBC News Not As Hysterical About Harvey Sweinstein


By ilana mercer

I’d like to better understand the American conservative media’s orgy over Harvey Weinstein, the disgraced and disgraceful Hollywood film producer and studio executive who used his power over decades to have his way with starlets.

To listen to conservative talkers, the women affronted or assaulted by Weinstein were all Shakespearean talent in the making—female clones of Richard Burton (he had no match among women)—who made the pilgrimage to Sodom and Gomorrah in the Hollywood Hills, for the purpose of realizing their talent, never knowing it was a meat market. Watching the women who make up the dual-perspective panels “discussing” the Weinstein saga, it’s hard to tell conservative from liberal.

“Conservative” women now complain as bitterly as their liberal counterparts about “objectification.”

However, the female form has always been revered; been the object of sexual longing, clothed and nude. The reason the female figure is so crudely objectified nowadays has a great deal to do with … women themselves. By virtue of their conduct, women no longer inspire reverence as the fairer sex, and as epitomes of loveliness. For they are crasser, vainer, more eager to expose all voluntarily than any male. Except for Anthony Weiner, the name of an engorged organism indigenous to D.C., who was in the habit of exposing himself as often as the Kardashians do.

The latter clan is a bevy of catty exhibitionists, controlled by a mercenary, ball-busting matriarch called Kris Kardashian. Kris is madam to America’s First Family of Celebrity Pornographers. (To launch a career with a highly stylized, self-directed sex tape is no longer even condemned.) Lots of little girls, with parental approval, look up to the Kardashians.

From Kim, distaff America learns to couch a preoccupation with pornographic selfies in the therapeutic idiom. Kardashian flaunts her ass elephantiasis with pure self-love. Yet millions of her admirers depict her obscene posturing online as an attempt to come to terms with her body. “Be a little easier on myself,” counsels Kim as she directs her camera to the nether reaches of her carefully posed, deformed derriere. While acting dirty and self-adoring, Kardashian delivers as close to a social jeremiad on self-esteem as her kind can muster. Genius!

Liberalism and libertinism are intertwined. The more liberal a woman, the more libertine she’ll be—and the more she’ll liberate herself to be coarse, immodest, vulgar and plain repulsive. Think of the menopausal Ashley Judd rapping lewdly about her (alleged) menstrual fluids at an anti-Trump rally. Think of all those liberal, liberated grannies adorning pussy dunce-caps on the same occasion.

By nature, the human woman is a peacock. We like to be noticed. The conservative among us prefer the allure of modesty. The sluts among us don’t. On social media, women outstrip men in the narcissistic and exhibitionist departments. In TV ads, American women, fat, thin, young and old, are grinding their bottoms, spreading their legs, showing the contours of their crotches, and dancing as though possessed (or like primates on heat), abandoning any semblance of femininity and gentility, all the while laughing like hyenas and hollering hokum like, “I Own It.”

The phrase a “bum’s rush” means “throw the bum out!” When it comes to Allison Williams, daughter of NBC icon Brian Williams, a bum’s rush takes on new meaning. Thanks in no small measure to her famous father, the young woman has become a sitcom star. And Ms. Williams has worked extra-hard to hone all aspects of an actress’ instrument (the body). Alison has carried forth enthusiastically about a groundbreaking scene dedicated to exploring “ass motorboating” or “booty-eating,” on HBO’s “Girls.”

The lewder, more pornographic, and less talented at their craft popular icons become—the louder the Left lauds their artistically dodgy output. (The “Right” just keeps moving Left.) “Singer” Miley Cyrus was mocked before she began twerking tush, thrusting pelvis and twirling tongue. Only then had she arrived as an artist, in the eyes of “critics” on the Left. The power of the average pop artist and her products, Miley’s included, lies in the pornography that is her “art,” in her hackneyed political posturing, and in the fantastic technology that is Auto-Tune (without which all the sound you’d hear these “singers” emit would be a bedroom whisper).

Liberal women, the majority, go about seriously and studiously cultivating their degeneracy. If “Raising Skirts to Celebrate the Diversity of Vaginas” sounds foul, wait for the accompanying images. These show feral creatures (women, presumably), skirts hoisted, gobs agape, some squatting like farmhands in an outhouse, all yelling about their orifices.

Do you know of a comparable man’s movement? If anything, men are punished when they react normally to women behaving badly.

Female soldiers got naked and uploaded explicit images of themselves to an online portal. The normals—male soldiers—shared the images and were promptly punished for so doing. And the conservative side of that ubiquitous, dueling-perspectives political panel approved of the punishment meted to the men.

So endemic is distaff degeneracy these days that “protesters” routinely disrobe or perform lewd acts with objects in public. Vladimir Putin is a great man if only for arresting a demented band of performance artists, Pussy Riot, for desecrating a Russian church.

If men flashed for freedom; they’d be arrested, jailed and placed on the National Sex Offender Registry.

Talk about the empress being in the buff, I almost forgot to attach an image of this celebrity, bare-bottomed on the red-carpet. Rose McGowan is hardly unique. Many a star will arrive at these events barely clothed. (Here are 38 more near-naked Red-Carpet appearances.)

Expect a feminist lecture about a woman’s right to pretend her bare bottom is haute couture, rather than ho couture, and expecting the Harveys of the world to behave like choir boys around her. Fine.

Being British, BBC News anchors are not nearly as dour about the Harvey hysteria as the American anchors. A female presenter began a Sweinstein segment by saying men claim the coverage of the scandal is excessive; women say the opposite. “That’s why we’re covering it,” quipped her witty male sidekick. She roared with laughter. That’s my girl!

Look, Harvey is a lowlife. But Hollywood hos are not as the sanctimonious Sean Hannity portrays them: “naive, innocent young things,” dreams shattered.

***

Ilana Mercer has been writing a paleolibertarian column since 1999, and is the author of The Trump Revolution: The Donald’s Creative Destruction Deconstructed (June, 2016) & Into the Cannibal’s Pot: Lessons for America From Post-Apartheid South Africa (2011). Follow her on Twitter, Facebook, Gab & YouTube.

Thanks, POTUS, For Breaking-Up The Annual Correspondents’ Circle Jerk


By ilana mercer

As a newly elected president, Donald Trump was quick to take one of Washington’s institutional pillars down a peg. By snubbing the 2017 annual White House Correspondents’ Dinner (WHCD), the president deflated what should have been more appropriately called the Sycophants’ Supper. Would that it was the last such supper. For now, the POTUS’s slap to this gathering of sycophants this past weekend will have to do. Read more

No more taxes, no more wars


By the Darn-Poor Rhymer

Neil’s Note: My good friend the Rhymer (who bears much the same relationship to me as Mr. Blake does to Dr. Gabb) has kindly written this little ditty, with which I plan to end my next major essay. As the essay itself is not yet complete, I thought I might release this tidbit in advance for your delectation. It is modelled after the school playground song “No more Latin, no more French.”

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