Goodbye New York Times. This time forever.

October 1, 2019

If you want to know how “Medicare For All” will work, and you jolly may not, take a peek at San Francisco. Let the record show that people come to San Francisco – sounds almost like a song title, doesn’t it? – from all over the country. When they get there, they scout around for a favorite spot where they take their pants down, non-gender specific, and shit in public, usually on the sidewalk. I suppose there is something liberating in taking a dump in public. I’m willing to learn.

Unanticipated consequences, collateral damage if you will, are the appearance of microbes and germs not seen since the Black Plague. The screaming meemy, evil dudes don’t have Latin names because the last time they were here all books were hand written by guys with tonsures without microscopes.

Stop the Presses!

Luxury Real Estate is Weak

IPOs Stink and the market is tanking

Manufacturing is Weak

It’s not because Trump is a “motherfucker”

It’s called the business cycle.

It happens.

Just like King Tides in the fall

I just saw pictures of Chinese cops beating the shit out 

of Chinese peace-loving, street activist, Social Justice

Mandarin demonstrators.

Didn’t Thomas Friedman, NYT columnist and 3 x Pulitzer Prize winner, 

tell us that China should be our role model? At least Walter Duranty

 won only one Pulitzer Prize.

Please Hillary, please run. One last gift 

for an old curmudgeon

Anyway, crazy is not stupid. Some of the homeless San Francisco shitters – and why doesn’t Tony Bennett sing about them? – rolled the boulders into the street, blocking the cable cars. One of them put one on E-Bay. It is rumored that the Medicare For All Death Panels will be chosen from these seasoned street warriors. They will be mentored by the best of the US Post Office, exceptional DMV clerks, and for customer assistance, we will import the best guys and gals from Mumbai call centers. No tea breaks; grog. What could go wrong? “Put it on E-Bay?” What the Hell is a homeless shitter doing with a smart phone? Just asking.

Now comes the fun part.

Hey, only Allah can weave a perfect rug. I forgot the coo du grass when I said goodbye to the New York Times yesterday.

I think one of the reasons why they won’t disown Walter Duranty, their Pulitzer Prize winning columnist, a toad who was a bought and paid for agent of the KGB, the wet work arm of the USSR. John LeCarre notwithstanding, who do you think put the pick ax into Leon Trotsky’s brain? Who did the necessary pre-trial intervention with Bukharin? Usually, pre-trial intervention and the KGB in the same sentence means a small Stilson spanner, a lighted cigar, and an exposed scrotum. 

I mention the above for the same reason Solzhenitsyn would drop 100 Russian names into “The Gulag Archipelago”. They were men who had been killed in the name of Communism for no other reason than whim. If he didn’t mention their names, who would? If their names were forgotten, they were truly dead. As in forever

If I don’t mention the ‘30s, all those dead Kulaks, Duranty and the Times, who will? 

I believe one of the reasons the Times refuses to say mea culpa, mea maxima culpa, is because, like Lysenko, like all true believers, they believe in the perfectibility of man.

Beginning with choosing sides at the tennis court, the one constant, the one common thread of progressives who, before morphing into modern American Liberals, decide to give Socialism a try – “I’ve been over to see the future and it works” – and such was their love of the not quite noble experiment  that they all thought – lemming like because, as Whittaker Chambers told us, “When the collection plate is passed in this church the only acceptable contribution is your soul.” – that Hitler, friggin” Adolph Hitler, was OK, was that human nature could be changed, that man could be conditioned, like Lysenko convinced Stalin that potatoes could be conditioned into growing like watermelons. 

If were to mention Kipling and the leopard changing its spots would you think me racist, misogynistic, sexist, militaristic, xenophobic, jingoistic, – have I left any of the Left’s favorite sins out? – anti modern?

It is a risk I am willing to take. 

In the Sunday NY Times, the International section, page 29, there is a story about income inequality, class divisions, and rich/poor tensions. And no, it is not about Blue/Red divisions and MAGA hats causing mass shootings and King Tides and meaner than cat shit Republicans being abnormally mean spirited.

It’s about South Africa. Specifically, it’s about Soweto, the Blackest of the Black, the Holiest of the Holy, the most “woke” place ever, the place where Mandela still performs miracles, the place where Tutu occasionally walks on water,

One headline and small quote say it all.

“The tree of liberation that we watered with our blood –

we’re not enjoying the fruit of that tree.”

&

But Mr. Mazibuko said the economic dividends of this

 freedom have been shared far less equally than he had hoped.

There is a story told about a time of limitless peril, early 1942, when first the Australians and then the Americans were truly Horatius, the Captain of the Gate. The Japanese, not yet even challenged after 10 years of land war in China, were coming over the mountains in New Guinea to capture Port Moresby. From there, they would take Australia. End of war. 

That the Jappos were defeated by Australians and Americans is a story not told enough. Let the record show that every time this country took up arms in the 20^th century and, so far, the 21^st century we have always had the Australians on our flank. Advance Australia Fair. Unlike the British we never stuck them with a Gallipoli. 

American planes soon began supplying the troops there. Certain indigenous peoples began a lucrative – for them – trade of being “dog nappers”: for the air crews. They were paid in merchandise not declared on the plane’s manifest. It became known to the Abos as “cargo”. They waited at the end of the runway for the planes to come back.

It is said that one elder waited until the early ‘60s for the return of his “rice bowl”

Thus, the difference between macro-economics and it’s not quite opposite doppleganger, micro-economics is made painfully clear.

Almost 30 years after Mandela showed them the way, after decades of altruistic indoctrination, the lessons of Utopia, of endless pots of gold under eternal rainbows, of 2 + 2 equaling 5, of perpetual free lunches, of rainwater turning into beer – if Soweto had sidewalks would the inhabitants shit on them? – water still does not run uphill.

I am sure there is no one left on the editorial board of the Times who thinks that Vishinsky was a fair prosecutor. But is man “perfectible”? Absolutely. That’s where the Green New Deal comes in. If we could only get those cows to stop farting, we could all be farting through silk. Maybe. It’s worth a try on somebody’s dime

Goodbye New York Times.

This time forever.

Kevin Smith

WARRIORBARDIT@BELLSOUTH.NET