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PERRIN LOVETT

~ Deo Vindice

PERRIN LOVETT

Tag Archives: TPC

Salammbo and Virginia – from TPC

21 Tuesday Jan 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in News and Notes, Other Columns

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current events, Flaubert, gun control, Salammbo, TPC

Sparing Hannibal

According to romantic legend, besieged by war and famine the wise men of ancient Carthage naturally saw fit to sacrifice their children to Moloch. 

Every time that a child was placed in them the priests of Moloch spread out their hands upon him to burden him with the crimes of the people, vociferating: “They are not men but oxen!” and the multitude round about repeated: “Oxen! oxen!” The devout exclaimed: “Lord! Eat!”

-Chapter Thirteen, “Moloch,” Salammbo, Gustave Flaubert (1862)

I mean, what else are you supposed to do? Wisest and noblest of all, Hamilcar, general and defender of the city, sent a slave’s child in place of his own son. The entire spectacle was said to horrify the barbarians.

In place of a gallant Hamilcar, America has Virginia Governor Ralph “Coonman” Northam. He took the nickname “Coonman” back in his blackface days. More recently, he’s been offering up the Commonwealth’s children to Baal Cronus Virginem via infanticide. “Not men but oxen!” Coonman has also set his sights on disarming Virginians. Last week, he declared a state of emergency in Richmond and prohibited the carrying of guns at a pro-gun rally. Allegedly he had heard of a plot by “white nationalists” to celebrate the Second Amendment or something. “White nationalists” are obviously people who do things like mockingly wear blackface and sanction child murder. Right? In what appeared to be a setup of another Charlottesville, the government has raced around making some highly dubious advance arrests – including three in GA.

In reality, the rally, held Monday, was planned and organized by the Virginia Citizens Defense League and was attended by average, ordinary NRA types – people, of all races, creeds, etc. who tire of state tyranny and who wished to demonstrate a reminder to the machinery of government that it is they, the people, who still hold power. This faction is generally thought of as leaning politically to the right. However, unsurprisingly, the right-wingers courted a few leftist allies. Forms of liberty being of at least nominal interest to more than one ideology, and with almost everyone (outside of the government) adopting the Second Amendment for what it is, Antifa joined the celebration, marching side-by-side with the NRA. Yes, Virginia, it is a weird world. Hey! I like to get these things in on a somewhat tenable schedule. Therefore, I’m wrapping this writing process up early on Monday afternoon. The rally appears to be peaceable, and that is excellent. Should anything develop, I’ll add a comment note – if needed – hopefully not. But still,

Watch Virginia

…

WHERE’S ALL THIS GOING? READ MORE AT TPC

TPC Sneak Peak

19 Sunday Jan 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in Other Columns

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preview, TPC

Impeachment, Virginia, Tolkien, and more. This week, via TPC.

UPDATE: It’s Virginia and the 2A that’s holding this one up. Must see what shakes out tomorrow in Richmond. AND, I’ve already started a draft for the next week – more on education, then and now.

Under the Omnibus – from TPC

14 Tuesday Jan 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in Legal/Political Columns, News and Notes, Other Columns

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Etc., evil, Iran, lies, taxes, TPC, War

Under the Omnibus

Your insane President, when he’s not murdering known diplomats, enjoys signing garbage legislation from the criminal Congress. Last month, at the urging of Bitch McConnell and the other reprobates, The Trump cheerfully signed into law a poorly-cobbled amalgamation of a spending bill. The Empire doesn’t do full budgets anymore, so it’s only $1.37 Trillion at a sad time – generally once per quarter. But the embarrassing expense of evil comes with other costs. The new law also raised the age for purchasing cigars and other tobacco products to 21. And, thank God! Now, I can finally enjoy a smoke without all those damned pesky toddlers roaming around the lounge crying and exchanging germs (sorry, Bess, what they do). The ban, as you may know, is plainly authorized by the Zeroth Amendment of the US Cornsternation.

Tweeted The Trump: “Our beautiful, beautiful children. So much smoke. IRAN WILL NEVER ROLL A CIGAR. My watch. SO SAD. Obama did it too. Yuuge. MIGA.” Ketchup on a well-done steak.

My tobacconist buddy’s new warning sign. Humorous dissent is, for now, still legal.

Building on this trend of creeping incrementalism, a sarcastic state senator in Vermont, John Rodgers, whom I’d kind of like to meet, introduced a bill to ban “children” under the age of 21 from owning or using cellular mind control and tracking devices. Rodgers noted that he wouldn’t even vote for the change himself, stating that he introduced it to make a point. “The kids” can’t buy smokes or beer. Why let them dull their minds and risk their lives sexting and driving? I might suggest a rider to raise the driving age as well.

Mr. Rodgers: please keep this one in your neighborhood. Should Trump, Pelosi, and the other shits get wind of it, they may well try to federalize the concept. I’m sure the CIA-OPA could quickly conjure up a convincing B-movie-like video showing some paid actors trashing an embassy or something because Iran wants to cellularize our youth. My only hope is that they would still allow 5G to proceed apace; in addition to the wonderful biological benefits you’ll soon experience from the well-tested super-duper-micro-hyper waves, you just wouldn’t believe what else they will enable. But, you will.

Anyway, all this got me thinking. Some few of you from time to time murmur that you oppose big government. Yet and still, later this year, you’ll rush right out and cast your votes to keep it around. So be it. I’m here to help, really. The other week, for the first time in my life, I proposed a tax – for the children! Now, I have another idea.

…

READ THE WHOLE THING HERE

Ye Old TPC Omnibus Preview

12 Sunday Jan 2020

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TPC

This week I shall tackle Iran (hopefully, the last time for a while) along with taxes, the election, cigars, and more. Stay tuned!

French lesson of the week: Je suis romancier.

On Trump and Iran – from TPC

07 Tuesday Jan 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in Legal/Political Columns, Other Columns

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Iran, TPC, Trump, War

IF and IF NOT: New Year, New War?

(About the Iran Debacle)

This is perhaps the third completely rewritten version of a column I started on Sunday evening, after a refreshing impromptu luncheon with MB and Da (most delightful gentlemen, both). Part of our conversation veered to The Trump, Iraq, Iran, and the fate of the world. None of us, like everyone else, had any definitive answers for certain recent developments. Here follows, in admittedly imperfect form, what I can muster at this point; you most assuredly know the news as reported.

Preliminary Matters

On Friday, January 20, 2017, Donald John Trump stood on the steps of the Capitol and proudly, brashly proclaimed: “From this moment on, it’s going to be America First. Every decision on trade, on taxes, on immigration, on foreign affairs, will be made to benefit American workers and American families.”

In an earnest moment of clarity, he went on to say: “We will seek friendship and goodwill with the nations of the world – but we do so with the understanding that it is the right of all nations to put their own interests first. We do not seek to impose our way of life on anyone, but rather to let it shine as an example for everyone to follow.”

Later, towards the end of his speech, he embraced the Wisdom of King David (Psalm 133:1): “The Bible tells us, ‘how good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity.’” If I remember correctly, at the time, I found the words refreshing, inspiring even. With all due respect to the Lord, the great King, and the unified People, I’m tempted to ask what the hell happened? I know just enough to resist the temptation. Instead, I offer “If” and “If Not” philosophical scenarios.

Also: virtually everything you’ve been told about foreign affairs and modern history by the government in Washington and by the CIA, I mean by the mainstream media, is utterly false. Most of what you’ve been told about the history of the past two centuries is largely fictitious as well. Three things of late to consider: ISIS, a mercenary, and a mob. Regardless of what lies you’ve been fed, ISIS was created by and is funded, equipped, armed, trained, and directed by the CIA and to a lesser degree the DOD; its purpose is to destabilize the Middle East for the benefit of Israel and Saudi Arabia. A US mercenary, called by some a “contractor,” was killed while serving as an advisor to ISIS, the blame being placed on Iranian General Qasem Suleimani. Suleimani is credited with keeping ISIS out of Iran and also with defeating or nearly defeating ISIS in Iraq and Syria. For his trouble, the US Empire killed him last week. But first, he was blamed for another lie – the mob siege of the fortress-like US Imperial Embassy in the middle of the damned green zone in Baghdad. That attack, I am convinced, never happened. What was shown on television, a crazed cowboys and indians show, was a scripted performance, not unlike a scene (also in Iraq) that deceased German journalist Udo Ulfkotte described in his book, Gekaufte Journalisten (Bought Journalism). The drone strike on Suleimani was unfortunately real. It’s the “why” that everyone is having a hard time with.

IF

Around the time of my first drafting of this article, I began to hear rumors of Machiavellian, or Trumpian, nature. That 4-D underwater chess stuff the Q brigade is always “patriots stand!”-ing about. What if the rumors are right? What if all this fuss and the assassination of Suleimani was orchestrated not to start a war, but to prevent (or end) one.

…

THE WHOLE THING AT TPC

 

UPDATE: Looks like a real shooting war.

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-7862453/Multiple-rockets-hit-Taji-military-base-Iraq-American-British-troops-based.html

https://www.foxnews.com/world/missile-attacks-target-us-forces-in-iraq-senior-military-source-says-iran-suspected

I’d suspect they are targeting offensive air capabilities. If they immediately go after the carriers and also have S400s, then this will get very dicey. Thank you grabblers.

Synthesis

06 Monday Jan 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in Legal/Political Columns, Other Columns

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TPC, War

I’ve submitted this TPC column, in which I do my best to break down the GREAT volume of what I’ve read and heard about the Iran mess. The facts will likely shift before and after publication. So be it. That, here, when it hits. Standing sentiment – nothing is as it seems.

The Wealth Tax We Need (but will Never Get) – from TPC

31 Tuesday Dec 2019

Posted by perrinlovett in Legal/Political Columns, Other Columns

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Federal Reserve, taxes, TPC

Taxes…

Wherein Perrin PROPOSES a Tax

I know. I was shocked too. But, it’s a new year (happy 1998!) and we must all change with the times. Everyone can agree that if America needs something, then it’s a privatized college football league. If there’s anything else, then it’s another tax. All the cool politi-critters are a squeaking away about it – like fat stupid rats locked in the cheese factory. If the peeps could be roused from the sofas and the Netflix-Sackler Family comas, then they’d be on-board too. And, this is not an idea that I come to lightly. Careful study of the articles even here at TPC gives credence to the popularity of the phenomenon.

MB lamented both the death and the fiscal failings of The Textile Man: “There’s so many folks out there that bust ass every October & December to make those property tax payments & here he was just not paying them.” Our esteemed editor, just last week, pondered why the home county folks “don’t pay their damned property taxes…” Seriously, you scofflaw slackers! If you don’t turn over your money (and, is it really ever “yours”?), then how can the good Sheriff continue to pay Commy Traig or whomever hundreds of thousands of dollars per year!? Any and all local political corruption depends on your financing. Do your damned jobs!

Da hit the national tax scene hard, heavy, and nobly with his Letter to the 2020 Democratic Nominee: “we still need a wealth tax for the good of us all.” Here, here! You darn tootin’ we do!

I have not spoken with Bess, Kayla, Fred, the Sheriff, or the Sharif about this, but I know for certain they are all in agreement.

Da was right – we need a wealth tax. It’s time for the truly wealthy to pay their fair share. And, truly, who’s wealthier than … The Federal Reserve? Back in October, I replied, in agreement, to Mr. Millsaps heartfelt thoughts as follows: “How about a 100% tax on all Federal Reserve assets, real, fake, and potential? I’ve got an idea…” Well, I do. Here it is…

ALL AT TPC…

A Gift After Christmas – Fiction from TPC

25 Wednesday Dec 2019

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fiction, novel, Sanquinis Lex, TPC

The following was recently published AT TPC. It’s a continuation of the Roland-Maryanna saga from last week. These stories combined form a loose chapter in the slowly evolving and developing SANQUINIS LEX, a forthcoming novel of some note. More on that later.

For now, please enjoy the charming story.

HERE, AS IT MIGHT APPEAR IN A 5X8″ BOOK FORMAT

Or, below in whatever format the WP gods see fit to allow:

*****

A Gift After Christmas

Reagan National Airport, Washington, DC, Late Saturday Morning…

Roland zipped up his jacket against the cold late December wind as he walked out of the terminal. He watched his breath float off in a cloud, furiously punctured by small flakes of dry snow. For a moment, he turned his head and looked up at the control tower, jutting into a grey sky above the arched canopy. Then, he looked south, down Aviation Circle. He saw her little Honda Civic dart between buses as it lurched towards the inner lane. In a few seconds, she stopped at the curb, hazard lights flashing. Clutching his lone bag to his body, he hastily descended into the passenger seat. Her incredible face was waiting and smiling eagerly.

‘Hello, beautiful,’ he said sheepishly.

‘Hello, handsome,’ she answered. ‘I brought you a Starbucks. And an Uber, with that kiss.’ While pointing to the capped cup with a green stir stick, she leaned over and planted one on him, long and deep. She tasted like Strawberries. Winter ceased and the world halted for a moment as they indulged fresh new love. It would have continued but for an angry honking from behind.

Withdrawing, she glanced in the mirror. ‘Alright, jerk. We’re moving. So, how was your flight?’

‘I almost missed the connection in Charlotte. They have all these rocking chairs, and it was so early, so tired, I almost fell asleep in one. My eyes were closing when they gate-called. But, otherwise, everything was fine. Hope you didn’t have to wait long.’

‘No,’ she said, as she eased them into traffic. ‘Been here about forty-five minutes. The cell lot is under construction or something, so I just snuck here and there around short term. Checked some emails. Got a heavy one from Father A. I had breakfast with him earlier this morning and he said he’d send me, send us something. And boy, did he. We’ll look at it at your place. He gave me – hang on.’ 

She started the tortuous process of merging onto the George Washington Parkway. Roland looked at her while he sipped his coffee. Then, he spoke softly and thoughtfully: ‘I love you, Maryanna. I love you.’ He smiled and sighed. ‘It feels even better saying it in person.’

She laughed as she accelerated into the travel lane, making eye contact with him for a split second. ‘I love you, Roland. Hmm. It does feel better like this.’

They both chuckled. He took off his glove and lightly brushed his hand down her long hair. ‘I don’t want to distract you, but I really, really am glad to see you again.’

‘Really, really?’ she asked with a laugh. ‘You’re the sweetest. How did we meet again?’

‘If you remember, you kept calling about legislation,’ he answered with a smirk. ‘What’s the Senator thinking? When can I interview him? How much opposition is there? Do you have leadership support? Have you spoken with the White House?’

‘Yeah, I was happy to get through the gatekeepers to you. I didn’t know you were so cute.’

‘Ha! I knew about you – in a good way. After your twentieth call in two days, we – Senator Few and I – looked you up. He said, “Look at her! Boy, you better call that one back. You do it, or I’m going to have to.” Jesus knows I’m glad I did.’ He stopped talking but kept staring at her. Then, he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

‘You! I want… Ah, heck. Hang on!’ she said with sudden, ardent determination. With a move that surprised both of them, she pulled hard right and they careened off the freeway and into Gravelly Point. In a minute, they were parked and frantically making out the way high schoolers used to when America was happier. After maybe an hour, after the ninth or tenth inbound jet rumbled directly overhead, they slowed. She cuddled into his arms, smelling his cologne and rubbing his shoulder. His arms were tight around her. Without coordination, their joint gaze wandered over the Potomac and to the golf course on the other side. His eyes held the view while hers closed. She inhaled and purred.

‘How are your parents? The rest of the family?’ she finally asked, still lost in the placid embrace.

He lowered his head onto hers, nuzzling and smelling her hair. ‘They’re all great. Everyone had a wonderful time. I think they’re as in love with you as I am. Glad one of us finally has a real, decent romantic interest. Mom framed your picture and put it in the hall with the other family. Won’t stop talking about you and us. How’re your folks and Corby?’

‘They’re good. Very good. Corby had a great Christmas. He’s feeling better. Mom and dad seemed a little preoccupied with something that they wouldn’t talk about. But otherwise, we all had a great time. Like the old times when I lived at home. It was so nice. The only thing missing was you. Of course, you were all they, all of them wanted to talk about.’

‘Did you get any questions about work?’ he asked.

‘A few. But, I think they know not to pry too much, even if they don’t know why. You?’

‘Yeah. A couple of times. I’ve found the best way to divert away is to get into the arcane details. Bore them with policy.’ He almost laughed about it.

‘Yeah. I have the old editorial process and MLA style to bore them into submission. But, they kind of understand things have gotten – you know. Without knowing.’ She was looking up at his clean-shaven face.

‘I wish we didn’t know, sometimes. I wish that a lot actually,’ he said.

‘But, we do,’ she answered as she leaned back into her seat. ‘At least we have a few friends to confide in. A few allies. That reminds me. Open the glove box.’

Roland looked inside and removed an envelope and a small white box. Turning to Maryanna, he asked, ‘Do you know what’s in the box?’

‘I do,’ she said. ‘Read the card.’

She waited while he slowly read the missive from Father Alojzy, a kindly-worded message of Christmas joy, laced with encouraging remarks. Finished, he remarked, ‘He’s a true man of God. Wonderful. Why do I feel like I’ve always known him?’

‘I know, right?’ she said with a smile. ‘Meeting him – and it does feel like reconnecting with an old friend – was the most pleasant thing, after meeting you, that is. I think he was sent to us. Or us to him.’

‘When should I see his email?’ Roland asked.

‘At home, not here. Not just yet. I don’t want to darken our mood,’ she answered.

‘Is it that bad?’ he asked.

‘No. Not… Well, yes, this is all bad. But, he did get some information. He heard back from his friend, I guess, in Rome, from the AIE.’

‘Hard to believe they’re real, now, isn’t it?’ Roland interrupted.

‘I know. But, they sent him a wealth of research on both the movement and those behind it. Ancient stuff. And – this is where it gets even heavier – our giant new friend sent some confirming material along with a few plans of action. He’s fully analyzed everything off of the poor nurse’s phone, and much more. He sent it all encrypted to Father A. Like in a spy novel or something.’

‘Hard to believe he’s real too. What do you think we should even call him?’ Roland interrupted again.

‘If I understand Father’s hints correctly, then the big guy is about to start putting a little pressure on them. Directly and in the way one might guess he’s really good at – even against their kind. I think the nickname is appropriate. I looked it up. It’s a Tolkien character, the mightiest of the Valar sent to battle Melkor in a time of desperate need. Kind of fitting it seems to me. Or, we could just keep calling him a friend. God knows we need one like him.’ She was staring out at the water again.

He took her chin gently in his hand, diverting her attention into his face as he pressed in close to hers. ‘We need them and we need us. I thought about this the whole flight. The whole vacation. God sent us to be together. And, I think we were chosen to do this, this work. We need all the help, but we also have each other.’ He rested his forehead on hers.

Caressing his head, she sighed, ‘A reward. Strength. Whatever you are. What we are. I’ll take it. And the friends, yes. Father had some stern words for me – his own and from Big T. Neither are still all that happy about my little West Coast getaway.’

‘Yeah. That kind of surprised everyone, you little sneak,’ He softly whispered. ‘But hey, I’m not so sure that you weren’t meant to have that experience, however, uh, silly it might have looked. Or, how dangerous it really was.’

‘You mean to say how foolish, not silly, I think,’ she said sorrowfully, distantly.

‘No. Whatever it was, it wasn’t foolish,’ he kindly reassured. ‘You survived and you helped us better understand things. Maybe you even put them on the defensive for once. Call it the Holy Spirit working through you.’

She held his face in her warm hands and gifted him one small kiss. ‘Thank you. They both kind of concluded the same thing, if reluctantly. Your kindness- Oh! Would you believe that the Hell’s Angels called me on Christmas day to check in?! Martha and Rick and all the boys wanted to wish me a happy holiday! I have friends in very high places!’

‘You’d make friends anywhere with anyone,’ he said as he stroked her hair. ‘Someone’s plan in action. I think they were purposefully in the right place at the right time. Tattooed protection!’

‘And! Speaking of that – open the box, boyfriend!’

‘Boyfriend?! We’re moving a little fast, now, aren’t we?’

‘You’re stuck with the title until we can bump it up a notch,’ she rejoined with a devilish grin.

‘Is this a ring or something?’ he asked.

‘Open it, dork.’

Roland opened the box and removed from it a slender silver Crucifix on a silver chain. He held it up and examined it thoroughly. ‘It’s-’

‘He gave me an identical model,’ she said as she lowered her turtleneck and pointed to the glimmering necklace.

‘Pretty. Very pretty on you. Is this one of the legends that turn out to be true?’ he asked.

‘Yes, it is. Pretty or not, you need to wear yours. Father Blessed them both in front of me, for us and especially against, you know- He said to put it on and to never take it off.’

A Christmas Call – Fiction From TPC

17 Tuesday Dec 2019

Posted by perrinlovett in Other Columns

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fiction, TPC

At TPC, and here, in full:

A Christmas Call

 

A Telephone Conversation in Progress, Christmas Eve, 8:34 PM…

 

Maryanna still felt like a schoolgirl, shifting on her old twin bed. She answered his question with one of her own: ‘What do you think our new friend is doing tonight?’

‘Something with a purpose, I’d guess,’ he answered. ‘Whatever it is, we’d probably be better off not discussing it now. The big guy honestly still scares me. Not like, you know, other things. But. At least he meets with Father Alojzy’s approval. Did you see him before you left town?’

‘Yes. He’s so sweet. Gave me the cutest card. And a blessing for the trip. Said he had you something, but you’d already flown out. We need to see him next week.’ There was something about the way she said we.

‘I need to see you.’ He put his own emphasis on the statement. ‘Miss you already.’

‘Yeah. It feels like it’s been a year already. Listen, what we’ve been talking about, about us – you’re the present I’ve been looking for. Meeting you was the best thing that -’

‘I know what you mean, Maryanna. It’s what I’ve been thinking about. You. Well, and the other business, but the thoughts about you… You, I need you. I love you.’

‘I love you too!’ the schoolgirl was almost giddy now.

‘Well – we’ve said it!’ he laughed as he spoke.

‘Got that out of the way, huh?’ she said, positively giddy.

‘And, we’ve got something else to talk about now, something positive. I thank God for you.’

‘And I for you.’

‘Well, good! It’s getting to be family time here. I’d better let you run.’

‘Same here. I think my brother’s listening outside the door!’

‘Give Corby a hug for me.’

‘I will after I slap his little head. He really likes you. Hey! Is your cousin coming? With his daughter?’

‘I think so. In the morning maybe? Driving in from Jax. I’ll let you know. You’d like them both.’

‘Yeah, let me know. Let’s talk for a long time tomorrow. Oh! Saturday, I can definitely get you from Reagan!’

‘Great! Like Uber with a kiss?’

‘We’ll see about that…’

‘Merry Christmas, Maryanna.’

‘Merry Christmas, Roland. I love you.’

‘I love you. Talk to you tomorrow.’

 

A Little House at the End of a Quiet Road, Cranberry Township, Pennsylvania…

 

Maryanna clicked her phone off and squealed. A thump in the hall and a muffled laugh gave Corbett away. She took it easy on him when she threw open the door: ‘Go to the living room, little boy! Get! Or, I’ll personally stop Santa Clause tonight!’

The siblings found mom and dad talking by the heater and drinking eggnog. Corby bounded in – as fast as one may bound with a walker – and announced the news: ‘They’re in love!’

‘Hush, son.’ Steve cautioned the boy. ‘Let’s let her make her own-’

‘So?? He is special. Anything to tell us, dear?’ Mom ushered Maryanna next to her on the sofa. Her daughter was glowing.

‘I think he’s… he’s as close to the one as I can imagine.’ Maryanna answered as she tugged and pulled on her mother’s hands, a broad smile on both their faces.

‘I knew it when he drove all the way out here,’ Steve said. ‘I’m happy for both of you. ‘Maybe you can move back here, or down to Georgia and leave all that craziness in DC where it belongs.’

‘In due time. There’s still more than a little of the madness to work through.’ Maryanna said as she gave earnest thought to the suggestion.

‘Enough of that!’ Mother countered. ‘Let’s have a toast to … the happy couple! And then, let’s open a few gifts!’

 

A Large, Columned House, The Hill, Augusta, Georgia…

 

Roland walked onto the back porch. His father was stoking a roaring fire. Looking up at his son, he spoke: ‘You just missed Charlie Roman. He said to wish you a Merry Christmas and left a book for you. It’s right there on the table. Said it’s by a friend of his.’

Roland picked up the book and studied the cover. Then, he fixated on the author’s picture on the back. ‘Oh, my. I know him too. Maryanna and I met him this fall in Washington. Doctor Thomas H. Ironsides. Wonder if he writes as well as he fights.’

‘What’s that dear?’ Mrs. Hubbard asked as she closed the door to the kitchen.

‘Oh. Nothing, mother.’ Roland answered softly.

‘Well. Tell us about Miss Maryanna. I framed that picture you sent. She’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen!’ The doting mother led her son to the settee adjacent to the fire.

‘She’s something else. The best thing I’ve found in the Capital. The best thing I’ve found, period. I’m in love with her.’

Father stood up, took a drink, and walked over. ‘Tell us all about her, son,’ he said. ‘We want to know all about her and about this project that the two of you are working on.’

‘Darling, no,’ Mother interjected. ‘We just want to know about her. About the two of you. Your happiness. Tell us a Christmas love story.’

He proceeded to do just that as a clean, light snow began to fall from eastern-Georgia to western-Pennsylvania and beyond. From his parsonage in Virginia, Father Alojzy saw it falling out of his window while he said his deep evening prayers of thanks. Tom and Carmyn walked through it, laughing as they nuzzled and cavorted. It dusted the wide shoulders of mighty Tulkas as he stood motionless, watching and waiting. The Vispoli family drove through it as they returned, once again, to New England. Far to the south, Wendell Hubbard brushed it off his daughter’s hair as they loaded their car for tomorrow’s road trip. 

And, if for only a moment, the world was still. Peace on Earth.

**That, friends, was both a reminder of fiction past and a preview of sorts. May it also serve as a subtle reminder of the promise and gift of Christ and Christmas. The National Affairs return next week with the usual, or maybe something else Yuletide-ish. An early Merry Christmas!

Christmas Presents – from TPC

10 Tuesday Dec 2019

Posted by perrinlovett in News and Notes

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Christmas, culture, toys, TPC

Alternatives to the Old Lump of Coal in the Stocking

 

Do people still do that? Give naughty children coal in their Christmas stockings? I suppose, with all we’ve learned this year from Alexandria O’ Communist and Greta the Human Shield, that it’s best to give renewable, eco-friendly truancy deterrents. How about a puff of solar wind for the not-so-nice kids? We allegedly have quite a few of them.

 

Shortly before shooting up an Air Force training school in Pensacola, Florida last week, Saudi al-CIA-da terrorist Mohammed al-Shamrani Tweeted “I’m against evil, and America as a whole has turned into a nation of evil.” He added, “I’m not against you for just being American, I don’t hate you because your freedoms, I hate you because every day you supporting, funding and committing crimes not only against Muslims but also humanity.” He then murdered three people and wounded eight others. Six other Saudi “students” have been arrested in connection with the attack. There is, at this time, no word on any dancing Israelis nor structural irregularities at the new 2 World Trade Center.

 

First, what is it with Saudis and flight schools?! I mean, maybe it’s not a good idea to allow foreign terrorists into the country, let alone into gun-free crime zones. Just a crazy idea. Second, something is nagging at me that maybe Mohammed had a point.

 

There is a credible argument that the United States Empire is a global force for evil and is inhabited by the descendants of Sodom and Gomorrah. Forget the ongoing clown shows under the Capitol Dome and at 1600 – those, I fear, are mere circus sideshow distractions. Under the big tent we have, just to identify a very few:

 

  • Big Usury flooding $4 Trillion (that, by their dubious count; the truth is likely closer to $10 Trillion) into the grabbler banks – this fall(!);
  • Full employment via part-time jobs that provide far less buying power than Americans enjoyed fifty years ago;
  • War, war, and more war;
  • A never-ending hoard of NOT-Americans flooding in with one hand expectantly extended and a Glock in the other (see above);
  • Small children “performing” for dollars at sodomite and drag clubs while the police and CPS sit and watch;
  • Soaring obesity and collapsing intelligence;
  • Face tattoos;
  • CUCK-fil-A.

 

And then, there are the very gifts we give our children. No, I’m not talking about the crushing debt, the budding civil war, or the soul-sucking depression of living in a dead anti-nation. Just ordinary toys and such. 
Michael Snyder, at his so-aptly-named End of the American Dream site, just ran a list of some hot new toys and gifts for the tots. I’ve read and respected Michael’s work for years. He’s a little one-note-ish, but the truth is that the tune never ends. Anyway, he lists a few items that Amerikans are buying for their children this Christmas $eason. There’s a fart launcher. There’s Flushin’ Frenzy, where the tikes battle to keep a piece of plastic shit in the toilet. Shoot the Poop is a similar game, featuring another toilet that eats more plastic shit (fed by the kiddos – a coprophagic first). For the transitioning child or stoned LGB+VPC enthusiast, they have Magical Unicorn Rainbow Poop. (Yes, there’s a Number Two theme this year). Last and most disturbing, is A CHILDREN’S BOOK OF DEMONS by Aaron Leighton. One of the demons, the one on the cover, is Corydon, styled by Leighton as “one funny demon!” As Publisher’s Weekly puts it: “(a riddler named Corydon requires a sigil ‘drawn in bright red, the colour of a clown’s nose—preferably while you’re giggling’).” Does the name Corydon sound familiar? As Socrates and Virgil put it, he’s a child-molesting queer. Giggle!

…

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Perrin Lovett

From Green Altar Books, an imprint of Shotwell Publishing

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