, , ,

What Would The Duke Do?


When did all of this start? Long ago, that’s certain. It’s only the noticing, for those who manage to notice, that’s recent. For what it’s worth, I still submit a story or two to TPC. Here’s part of my latest missive, emailed this weekend and destined for publication when? 

Being the point scout, I’ve already commenced the usual Midsummer stroll. Yet, I just had to drop in some grand news – some of which is local and therefore important!

I was shocked and horrified when I read The Chronicles the other day: “A black male in a ski mask opened fire w/ a semi-automatic rifle shooting multiple folks…” Wow. It really sounds like the (checks notes) white militias are getting out of hand around C-town. Better ban gatherings of multiple folks. But, it could be worse. At least he was wearing a sacred face diaper!

In Boston last week, police arrested (checks notes) white supremacist Khaled Awad for stabbing a Rabbi at a Jewish school. Khaled is an old, racist New England stock name. Yes, he’s still more of an American than you. Sadly, we have no confirmation of any “jabs” with the stabs. Better ban religious schools.

Also in Massachusetts this weekend, the Staties enjoyed a strengthening, beneficial visit from the diversity of a heavily-armed if intellectually light group called “Moorish American Arms,” which is a (checks notes) white militia.  They claim they do not respect our laws. Of course, they don’t. Better ban the police.

The sacred cows are such fun targets. Like any seasoned publication, The Chronicles takes regular recreational breaks of varying, yet growing lengths. Also, among their house ideas is the concept of the “white militias” running wild with AR-57 assault cannons and so forth. They fell in with the Great Hoax of 2020. Civic nationalism. Marijuana-colored glasses. Etc. I suppose cognitive dissonance is one way to avoid reality. It also allows me opportunities for satirical humor – or, at least, for attempts at the same. 

At any rate, that short work was supposed to give me ideas for this week and this column. However, I found much of the material I gathered, and the process of synthesizing it, downright gloomy. In short, if you’re an American, then this is simply no longer your country.

Almost thirty years ago, I found myself wandering around Athens looking for a barber. I found him on Prince Avenue, a nice, older man with a little shop named after the neighborhood. We talked, of course. Once upon a trimming, he remarked that much of our then-present problems could be traced to the fact that “America doesn’t have any heroes anymore.” He, or I, or both of us at once brought up John Wayne, who, at the time, had been dead for over a decade.

Roughly a decade later, maybe a little later than that, right-wing thought leaders, the more honest of them, began to examine what had become of America and where she was going. In 2004, Pat Buchanan penned America in 2050: Another Country. He was probably a few years overly optimistic. That same year, Vox Day was more accurate with You Can’t Fix A Corpse. No, you can’t. What had, then, been rotting for some time has now turned to dust. In his 2016 book Cuckservative, Vox and John Red Eagle lay out exactly how the cowardly fake right acquiesced to and quietly cheered the destruction of the old nation. 

The cucks betrayed us to the point that today Black Muslim militias openly stalk New England while progressives, the cucks, and libertardians all ignore the transformation of proud, homogeneous America into the third-world Disunited States of Usury and meekly chirp about nonexistent White supremacy, White racism, and White militias. Anyone who dares recognize the truth is silenced or called names, wronged, and insulted. But, perhaps this points towards the answer to my title question.

In his final movie role, in 1976’s The Shootist, Mr. Wayne’s J.B. Books proclaimed, “I won’t be wronged. I won’t be insulted. I won’t be laid-a-hand on. I don’t do these things to other people, and I require the same from them.” One recalls the barroom ending.