Civilization vs. Barbarians
I have two of my own:
Here’s a tip: when your precious counter-culture has become the mainstream culture, it’s time you quit acting like you’re still relevant.
A 29-year-old Afghan man in Germany attacked and severely injured a 58-year-old landscape gardener who was working in a park in Berlin, allegedly because he didn’t like the fact that as a woman she was working, police said Sunday.
The attack in the city’s Wilmersdorf district took place Saturday afternoon, and a 66-year-old passerby, who tried to come to the woman’s rescue, was also severely injured.
I am truly curious to see what happens when (not if) the new crop of Afghan “refugees” tries this kind of nonsense here in the U.S.
It may require just a few Righteous Shootings to help them assimilate. Just sayin’.
Last Sunday was the Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance, whereby car enthusiasts converge on the famed golf course and drool over the various examples of automotive gorgeousity strewn around like a rich man’s carelessly-scattered diamonds on green velvet.
Here are a couple other examples:
Iso Rivolta:
Ferrari Pininfarina: 
And all was well in the land, until this little Wokist twerp got in on the act:
Let’s get two things cleared up before we continue. The first is that while the Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance is certainly far from the most momentous cultural event of the year, it is the most prestigious car show anywhere in the world. For a few days in late summer, the 18th fairway at the Pebble Beach golf course is the very highest point for any rich person who covets vintage cars, and the highest honor for any person working in the business of restoring classics.
The second is that Mercedes was not just a car company that was busy at work doing normal car stuff during the time in which Nazis were in power in Germany. Mercedes was an early and direct supporter of Adolf Hitler long before he took power, helping him out while he was still an outsider figure in Bavarian politics. When Hitler got out of prison in 1924, he got picked up in a Mercedes-Benz.
Ergo, says this girlyman, we should not have the 540K as the winner because it was driven by Nazis. Here’s the car in question:
And then this:
This is exactly how this car is seen in this world of the mega-rich: an encapsulation of “the optimistic mood” of Germany in 1934. Let us ask: for whom was this an optimistic time, and who is the kind of person who looks back on that time now, remembering its icons for their … optimism? Rich people, that’s who.
Wow… wealth envy and oh-so laudable “anti-Nazi” sentiment all wrapped up in a neat little bundle. Read the whole thing to get the RCOB that Longtime Reader Ken S. warned me I’d get, when he sent it to me yesterday. And I did.
Even better is that the writer suffers from the usual hypocrisy of his ilk, in that he owns a… Volkswagen Beetle, surely the most Hitlerish of all German cars of the 1930s.
So just for the hell of it, feast your eyes on a couple other examples of this eeeevil car:
And to hell with this wokist revisionism. Let’s just enjoy the automotive excellence.
Pity, though: I used to enjoy reading Jalopnik.
Great Cicero’s bleeding adenoids, have we come to this?
Linguist Dr Rob Drummond, who works at Manchester Met University, argued using accents for comedic effect in sitcoms like Fawlty Towers, where Andrew Sachs famously portrayed a clumsy Spanish waiter called Manuel, promotes ‘lazy stereotypes’ and can be ‘pretty damaging’.
Damaging to whom, exactly?
While my native accent is pure Johannesburg WASP (often mistaken for British in America, but never in Britishland), I love doing accents. While some are not so good (my Texas twang fools absolutely nobody), my Indian-, French- and even German-accented English are all pretty good. (Afrikaans-flavored English, of course, is second nature.) My Scottish accent is passable outside the U.K., but nothing beats my Australian — I’ve fooled even native Aussies into thinking I was pure Ocker, and having armed myself with some Strine slang, it’s unbeatable.
And if I live somewhere for any lengthy period of time, the native accent is easy — when I lived in north Jersey, even some of my NJ buddies could be fooled when I called them up and asked in my best Hoboken Nasal, “Yo, howya dooin’?”
So now I can’t do accents anymore, in case someone is “damaged”?
Fuck that.
Reading this wokist nonsense recently, I came across this fine sentiment:
PARC would also ban “culturally appropriative language,” such as the word “tribe,” which “was historically used in a dehumanizing way to equate indigenous people with savages.”
So… let’s hear it from my Jewish Readers*. (When they’re done laughing.)
Were you triggered? (And I don’t mean “Were you tempted to pick up a gun?”.)
*For Readers unfamiliar with the jargon, Jews traditionally refer to each other as “Tribe”.
Interesting take by ZMan over at Taki’s Mag:
One of the remarkable things about the collapse of the Soviet Union is that it just melted away without a struggle. It was as if everyone could not think of a reason to keep it going. The reason for that is the trust in the key institutions had drained away. There was no reason to defend them or participate in them. The people running the institutions had used up all of the social trust to maintain their positions. When it was gone, the institutions collapsed.
Something similar is happening in America.
Many years ago, a dystopian novel entitled The HAB Theory was published, whose premise was that as the ice caps grew larger, the added weight would create an imbalance in the Earth’s rotation — and when the “wobble” became too much to support, the Earth would upend itself, the heavy poles would realign along the equator (and eventually melt), whilst new ice caps would naturally form in the northern and southern latitudes, as before.
While that theory is (rightly) regarded as nonsensical now, what was interesting was that when the tipping point arrived, the collapse was very sudden — anyone who’s ever spun an old-fashioned top with string can attest to that. Everything’s fine when the top is spinning fast, but as it slows it begins to wobble — and in less than a second, it’s flying all over the floor on its side, still spinning uselessly in its death throes.
I just wonder, given ZMan’s hypothesis, how close we are to that point in the U.S.