Fleeing one step ahead of the sinister agents of the Dalai Lama, Tabula Non Rasa contributes to the dream archives over at the mysterious, ubiquitous, non-scabies-infested Party Report:

I really rarely dream. Like, maybe once a year or so. Which suits me fine, considering.

I was standing in this big living room, at least two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows, lots of sunlight illuminating the scanty but expensive Scandinavian moderne looking furniture. Classy place. While standing there between a white sofa and a smoked glass-topped coffee table, I noticed that Miss Piggy was sucking my dick. That’s right, Miss Piggy; the famous Muppet. Who says I’m not a starfucker? I was impressed by how realistic it seemed (to me): her mouth felt dry and scratchy like theatrical-grade velour. Personally I wanted her to stop so I could look at my penis – I’d be curious to see what it looked like, frankly – but she was making that Miss Piggy “swinish eating” gobbling noise, sort of ‘myum-myum-myum!’ that was too funny to interrupt.

Ah, with sleep, what dreams may come, Dear Karen?

It’s funny: Ha, ha.

Check out the oh-so-pious bleats about Bush spending taxpayer money (because Democrats pay for all of their little photo-ops out of their own fat fucking pockets, right?), and be sure to catch the charming recount of the Secret Service at their best . Note the utter failure to mention Patricia Mendoza, or anyone else that happened to get roughed up by jack-booted thugs when a certain fat kid from Arkansas was in the White House.

Voting liberals are getting just what they deserve, and good and hard to boot. Every one of those little mouth-breathers was like as not cheering ole’ Bubba on during the eight years he spent latched onto the tax teat, and now they have the God-damned nerve to whine about the same exact things, since The Gun is now pointed at them.

Beck fingered these types a long time ago - the Turning Worms.

Not that voting conservatives are any better, of course. No, not too much disgust at plastic turkeys from those quarters, because after all he’s their plastic turkey. But just wait until the next Democrat’s elected President, and they’ll be the first in line to whimper about lies and deceit.

My utter disgust for Democrats and Republicans alike is only further garnished by my contempt for various stripes of self-described libertarians making noises about “Federalism” and “Decentralization” in regards to the Dems, having blissfully fucking forgotten that they were swappin’ spit with the Republicans exactly one President ago. The only reason that any voting liberal is talking with libertarians is because the Left are the Outs, right now, and they need whatever help they can scrape up. Even if it is just a fraction of the LP’s three hundred thousand votes. You watch: the instant the Democrats get back into power, the libertarians are going to be unceremoniously dumped into the alley and left to whine after the Republicans.

Who will of course pretend to listen to the LP’ers and “build bridges” and what-not until they’re back in power, leaving voting libertarians to ping-pong back to the Left…

Ha, ha, ha.

Tip: Drizz.

Via Politech comes this gem:

RALEIGH, N.C. – In the computer era, one game is ubiquitous, a humble standard on nearly every computer in the halls of international commerce.
The game, of course, is solitaire.

…

But now some state lawmakers want the fun and games to stop - at least on company time. Saying taxpayers would be “outraged” to know how much work time is frittered away by insurance-commission secretaries and DMV employees honing their solitaire and Mine Sweeper skills on the state’s 50,000 computers, Catawba County Republican Sen. Austin Allran has sponsored what may be the country’s first anti- solitaire legislation.

Personally, being a free-market type, I’m against this. This proposed legislation is destructive to the idea of private property and human freedom in general.

Let’s look at the issue more closely: where I work, there are some informal but strict policies about use of company resources. No walkmans/radios/etc., and no personal use of the Internet being a couple. And that’s fine, it’s the company’s computers and electricity so they get to make the rules. That’s what a job is all about: they don’t pay me to listen to the radio or surf the net. Their freedom means that they get to make the rules, and my freedom means that I get to walk out anytime I don’t like it.

So why am I against the proposed legislation?

Simple: when we’re talking about government employees, things are quite different. First, as Spooner has pointed out, the “government” is at best a secret band of robbers and murderers. It doesn’t rightfully exist, and certainly can’t be said to rightfully own anything. Secondly, those employees of this secret band are mainly engaged in enforcing that band’s policies, policies which mainly consist of attacking individuals.

Therefore the more time that government drones spend playing Solitare, downloading porn, checking sports scores, buying crap from Ebay, and chatting with friends, the less time they’ll have to stick their noses into my personal affairs and monkey with my property. Stupidity and laziness on the part of government employees is a good thing for individual freedom. Seriously: if you could pick the person who audits your tax return, would you rather have the person who was focused on you obeying the rules, or would you rather have the guy itching to get back to his game at PokerStars.com? Would you rather have your building permit scrutinized by a sharp-eyed bureaubot, or by the lady trying to scoop that rare Beanie Baby from Ebay?

It’s clear that the best government employee is one that never does his “job”.

So down with anti-distraction legislation! Up with DMV Solitare, courthouse gambling, tax department porn! Three cheers for stupid, distracted, inefficient government!

A few years ago, about a block from my apartment on the way to work, there were three dogs which chased me if I was on my motorcycle, several times a week. Two were good-sized — a golden retriever and an equally large mutt. The ringleader, however, was a yippy, 20-lb white short-haired mix. The other dogs were always about 10 yards behind him. These chases occurred right outside a mobile home, in a city with a leash law. See how the law protected me?

I ordered pricey “shoots 30 feet!” pepper spray just for them. Apparently, “shoots 30 feet!” only works downhill with the wind at your back, because it went out like 5 feet from the bike as I shot it sideways, before turning into a useless dribble.

One day, however, I came around the blind corner immediately before the dogs, and they were already standing in the road too close for me to stop. I straightened the bike up and gave it a little gas just like the MSF teaches, to lighten the front end. I wasn’t consciously aiming for the mutt, but there was a thump-bump that barely disturbed the bike, and the little bastard was rolling along the road in my rearviews.

I watched for a second, saw he was still, then noticed that the people I assumed “owned” these dogs were out in their trailer’s front yard–a man and a 8-10 year old kid. The man was walking towards the dog, and knew I would have to ride by every day so I did a U-turn, intending apologize. As I got closer, the guy nudged the dog with his toe, looked at me, shook his head, and waved me off.

I swear I didn’t do the happy dance until I got home.

Why do I relay this story? Well, I’ve killed a dog on my motorcycle, but not in the totally badass way that this guy did. Awesome. Like every sane man should, he took matters into your own hands, rather than waiting for the police to save him.

A side point, I would hazard a guess that, if the dog was dumped purposefully as the story describes, and didn’t just fall accidentally, the asshole who did it decided it was less risky to himself to do it this way than to shoot the dog and bury it in his backyard. Now, why would that be? Could it be… illegal?

P.S. to haters… I have nothing against dogs. I have a beautiful 70 lb shepherd mix that we rescued from a pound. However, I have no problems with killing animals that are trying to kill or injure me, or that I intend to eat.

The blog has migrated. If you can see this you should be able to comment again.

…Does anyone else find it amusing that Justin Raimondo is bitching about “character assassination“?

Richard Nikoley has a good horse-laugh at the expense of the modern-art crowd. Be sure to check out the cheap Commie bastards with their begging bowl in one hand and a knife in the other, whimpering about how much they need to steal from you.

(Mild adulations awarded to the first person to identify the source of the title quote.)

A filthy cowardly butcherly murderer who has not the stomach to take the reward of his deeds has found help to do his dirty work.

A fine bit of work it is too - starving a helpless, hospital-bound woman to death so he can enjoy unimpeded use of her money. And the worst part is that in this he seems to be upheld by the law.

But there is another Law, and another Judgement, to which Michael Schiavo will be summoned.

God have mercy on us all.

So he was asked whether he had anything to say in arrest of judgement, and pleaded that his name was spelt wrong in the indictment, being Martin with an I, whereas it should be with a Y. But this was overruled as not material, Mr Attorney saying, moreover, that he could bring evidence to show that the prisoner by times wrote it as it was laid in the indictment And, the prisoner having nothing further to offer, sentence of death was passed upon him, and that he should be hanged in chains upon a gibbet near the place where the fact was committed, and that execution should take place upon the 28th December next ensuing, being Innocents’ Day.

Thereafter the prisoner being to all appearance in a state of desperation, made shift to ask the L.C.J. that his relations might be allowed to come to him during the short time he had to live.

L.C.J.: Ay, with all my heart, so it be in the presence of the keeper; and Ann Clark may come to you as well, for what I care.

At which the prisoner broke out and cried to his lordship not to use such words to him, and his lordship very angrily told him he deserved no tenderness at any man’s hands for a cowardly butcherly murderer that had not the stomach to take the reward of his deeds: ‘and I hope to God,’ said he, ‘that she will be with you by day and by night till an end is made of you.’ Then the prisoner was removed, and, so far as I saw, be was in a swound, and the Court broke up.

I cannot refrain from observing that the prisoner during all the time of the trial seemed to be more uneasy than is commonly the case even in capital causes: that, for example, he was looking narrowly among the people and often turning round very sharply, as if some person might be at his ear. It was also very noticeable at this trial what a silence the people kept, and further (though this might not be otherwise than natural in that season of the year), what a darkness and obscurity there was in the court room, lights being brought in not long after two o’clock in the day, and yet no fog in the town. - Martin’s Close by M. R. James

In a recent IChat with Billy Beck (well, Beck has some inferior PC/Windoze program, it is I, of course, who have iChat) he informed me of another online discussion with (name redacted out of simple pity) who enquired if music had any evolutionary value.

I replied that it was appalling the way this nekulturny Philistine notion of “evolutionary psychology” was spreading among libertarians faster than a urinary tract infection on Capitol Hill.

I believe that it is for my adroit use of subtle metaphor that Billy Beck values my writing.

(Note to inlookers from Catellarchy, 2Blowhards, etc; Please do not use the restroom facilities and avoid touching the doorknobs with your bare hands. Thank you.)

Or is he just trying to trick the oppressive Pro Tem government? Here we see Norman conferring with the lovely representative of the Konarmiya on how best to defeat the marshland bandits, the hallucinatory representatives of the Martian colonies and the Dawnward Marching Army.

“There is no category of human activity in which the dead do not outnumber the living many times over. Most beautiful children are dead. Most soldiers, most cowards. The fairest women and the most learned men–all are dead. Their bodies repose in caskets, in sarcophagi, beneath arches of rude stone, everywhere under the earth. Their spirits haunt our minds, ears pressed to the bones of our foreheads. Who can say how intently they listen as we speak, or for what word?
- Gene Wolfe

(Special prize, maybe, for the first person who can tell me which Gene Wolfe novel I got all this from. Hi Dana! Hi Clint!)

[Scene: Al Swearengen’s office, during a sudden trial recess.]

Judge: “Make your point”.

Swearengen: “My point is - before a guilty verdict would get executed on that cocksucker, three men would walk in that meat locker where he’s bein’ held with bags over their heads and cut his fucking throat, And within a half an hour, that Celestial’s little pigs will be on their backs with their hooves in the air, belching up human remains.”

Judge: “Are you sayin’ you’d order that to be done?”

Swearengen: “I’m sayin’… I had a vision that it happened. My second of the day. First come when I was watching you and them lawyers all lyin’ this morning. They began to slither in my sight like vipers. So as not to puke I had to close my eyes. The vision went on - got worse. I saw the vipers in the big nest in Washington - they were taking us in the camp for acting like we could set our own laws up, our organizations, and then I saw the big vipers decide to strangle and swallow us up and every fucking thing we gain here.

It was horrible! How could we fuckin’ avoid it? How could we let the vipers in the big nest know that we didn’t want to cause any fuckin’ trouble?”

Judge: “And that’s when you had your second vision.”

Swearengen: “Yeah, the cutthroats and the pigs, but who wants all that blood spilled, Judge, huh? Isn’t there a simpler way of not pissing off the big vipers?”

Judge: “I want to get back to the trial.”

Swearengen: “Go ahead.”

[Ed’s note: After additional judicial instructions, the accused was acquitted.]

Dear Sir or Madam:

Others, some fifteen-hundred of them at the time of this writing, may wish to crawl to you like whipped curs, begging for permission to conduct their own affairs. I am not among them. Knowing full well the uselessness of any such endeavor for the purpose of securing my liberty, I decline to degrade myself before you. I do not and shall not recognize any authority you may claim to possess, except such recognition as you may impose upon me at the point of a bayonet. I shall not stoop to the pretense of asking your permission for or begging your recognition of my property, or of my right to use it as I see fit. Instead, I will take notice of the fact that you are in fact usurpers and thieves, robbers and murderers.

It does not behoove a man to entreat such with gentle words and kind gestures: your hearts are cold and your hands are bloody. I shall conduct my life as I see fit, avoiding you and your like to the greatest extent possible. I shall grudgingly acquiesce to your demands when they are presented with overwhelming force, as I would any common bandit, but I shall not take part in your shallow deceptions as to the nature of that force, or of my willingness to have it imposed on me. I refuse, on the grounds of common sense and simple human dignity, to entreat you and your non-existent mercies: you are and remain the sworn enemy of every free man.

Go forth now and rob and pillage and regulate, as is your very nature, but know that I recognize you for what you are, and will not willingly give my words as cover for your foul deeds.

(Tip: The indispensable Drizz.)