Featured Editorials

Fascism Lite: The Lessons Learned this Time Round

There are several lessons about fascism between the Wars that have particular relevance for our own time. First, fascism is not confined to a particular time, place or set of economic conditions in the past. Fascism is not just grainy black-and-white photos of Depression-era Europe.

Dangling Eyeballs

I once knew a woman whose father was a mob fellow with a crew that specialized in dangling eyeballs. When someone disrespected the family, the crew would be dispatched to seize the miscreant, and then they would pop from its socket an eyeball. The eyeball would dangle there, on its stalk, arest against the cheek.

No permanent damage was done—the eyeball could fairly easily be reinserted—but because people are not accustomed to viewing the world from an eyeball dangling on the cheek, the procedure tended to firmly impress on the miscreant the necessity of de-miscreanting, and at once.

Poor Michael Moore Seems To Have Made A Compelling and Indicting Film About the Decay of the Democratic Party and American Myths. But Ultimately Stumps For More Dems.

(Had this in the holding pen for the past few weeks. Seeing that there's been no mention of it here it is)

Damn It, Joe Biden and Michelle Obama, Stop Rehabilitating George W. Bush!

Okay, it’s an editorial but it’s one I (nobody that I am) agree with 110%!!!

Damn It, Joe Biden and Michelle Obama, Stop Rehabilitating George W. Bush!

Biden’s decision to present Bush with a medal is more than just shameful.
By Steven W. Thrasher


One of the things you learn, when you're having a life, is that when you form a vivid mental image of a place, sometimes it can be a mistake to actually go there.

I know a guy who went to Winslow, Arizona specifically because Glenn Frey and Jackson Browne told him it's "such a fine sight to see."

"They lied," he reported back. "That is not a place where a girl my lord in a flatbed Ford will slow down to take a look at me."

"Well, maybe so," I said. "Then again, you're not Jackson Browne."


Michael Savage is a barking lunatic who for three hours on the radio each day is violently insane. He jackboots up and down the dial bellowing blood-and-soil "borders, language, culture" atavism, a knuckledragging retroversion basically stolen by The Hairball to become the president.

Savage's real last name is Weiner, like the penis, and with his Savage Weiner penis he produced a son, Russell, who concocted a swill called Rockstar, a blend of caffeine and poison that the humans pour down their mouth-holes in the delusion they will thereby achieve "energy." I have a Resentment and even a Hate for this product, because I know that the original and true Rockstar was invented by Zack. I know this because I was present at the creation.