Knows from Newswhere : "Patrick Administration Erased Romney Era Emails"

Dear Dr. Bones,

Naturally, the _Globe_ of Gotham lost this keyboard’s custom when it gated their community recently. Anybooby can see that that is the way we are headed, yet there is no need to rush unseemly into the Brave New Decline.

Anyway, an out-of-commonwealth perspective remains available gratis from the Whight Guard volks over to here . That crew manage to make the Baní Sulzberger look like locals most of the times, so profound is their internal emigration, but that doesn’t matter, I suppose, when the guardists are only reprintin’ stuff fetched from Manhattan. As follows:

According to the _Boston Globe_, the Deval Patrick administration inadvertently erased thousands of Romney Administration emails. "That includes at least four of Romney’s top Cabinet officials. Thirty days after they left office, their e-mails were automatically purged from the state’s central computers, wiping out records of decisions on an array of sensitive topics, from health care to raising state revenues. Romney Cabinet secretaries said in interviews that they were never told by administration or state technology officials that they needed to take any steps to protect their e-mails. "No one came over to me and said, ’Do this, do this, do this, do this,’’’ said Tim Murphy, who as secretary of Health and Human Services helped formulate the state’s landmark health care law. "I just turned my computer off and went home. That’s the end of it.’’ There goes that line of attack by the Democrats. For it was they who did the erasing.

Neocomrade R. X. Eno, Freelord Redmass in the peerage of Foxcuckooland, is author of the twistatorial frame here. His freelordship has evidently not much acquaintance with Comp. Sci., for of course if "automatically purged" be accurate, the true perps must be the installers and configurators of the programme, who, in the case at hand, must be the agents of Republicanines if not themselves Party neocomrades.

His freelordship elegantly, an’ quight unanswerably, says not a word about those amazin’ hard disk drives that automatically bought and disconnected themselves, and then rode off into the sunset with ‘Mittens’. Freelord Redmass must know about them, for the very same _Globe_ scribble [1] informs us that

[A]ides in Romney’s executive office also took the unusual step of buying individual desktop computer hard drives and taking them home, removing a large volume of material relating to Romney’s deliberations. That was not done by executive office aides for Swift and Cellucci (...) Reuters [2] news agency reported this week that breaking an office computer lease by using the individual hard drives cost state taxpayers $100,000 . . . .

Especially worth hushin' up, from the Whight Guard perspective, is that second bit, which reflects rather poorly, I venture to think, on ‘Mittens’ as exponent of Big Management an' heroic Cutter of Costs. Plus there may be a Rulalaw angle, sorta. [3] Though I guess it is not technically illegal to break leases as long as you buy up the fragments afterwards. _Dixit_ Powell, Esq.

The _Gotham Globe_ goes on about it at remarkable length, "Number of Words: 2218 / Number of Unwrapped lines: 148 / Number of characters (non-space): 11552." All worth wading through, if only to meet the deliciously surnamed Brian McNiff at about word 1,425.

Happy days.

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[1] One can sneak into The Fishwrap on a Hill if some confederate in the beleaguered garrison throws one a link from the inside.

(( In some ways, the New Dark Ages promise to be remarkably like the old ones. Complete with treacherous ‘confederates’ like McTrickledown, who am no ideobuddy to Freelord Redmass an’ the Whight Guard.

(( Admittedly, in any age it would be difficult to cite a document for the parts of it that are convenient in the path of one’s Party an’ Her AEIdeology without lettin’ the ill-disposed know where to go to look for less convenient aspects. Aspects to use against. I presume hostiles were supposed to stop when they see there is a link, or maybe when they click and verify that there is another end to it that looks tolerably plausible .

(( As Mr. Burke said to Lord Bowlingalone, "¿Who now reads _Globe_ articles? ¿Who ever read them thru?" ))

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[2] ¿Reuters? Ah, so. ¡Why this is _Globalisierung_, nor are we out of it, we who now get our Beacon Hill news not merely from NY but from UK!

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[3] http://j.mp/sQu66a .

Charity does NOT begin at brown

Dear Dr. Bones,

Now *here* is a fun Vision for you, sir: Don Neutrino accompanyin’ Lady Bountiful as she makes her rounds of (specifically) the (Brown) Bad Poor.

Lady B., though, would probably object to the size of the proposed Gingrichian retainer at the outset, an’ the negotiations would get no farther. If that obstacle were surmounted, there would be the continuin’ levels of Gingrichocentric overhead an’ egohead ever after.

I expect Bounty will prefer to spend of her own unassisted, rather than take to politics in a sieve captained by Master Newt [1] an’ with course steered by Don Rubenito from the stables of Simon Pajama.

No great loss, for Party-of-Grant Jumblies wouldn’t want to make the voyage in any case. ¿Why should they travel, who are already here? [2]

To flat-out change the subject, my recent listening to, study of, whightist radio in Greater Boston has given me a fresh insight into the Republicanine Dittopan [3] , as follows: the kiddiecons’ favorite Exmas charity is, by several landslides, the USO. Or rather, a variety of USO spin- or rip-offs of the kiddies’ own, conducted by (I presume) more politically reliable moneythrowers. Allow me to disrecommend, for example, this crew, though admittedly the pet g@@gle just had an encounter with ’em, an’ they do not, as far as I know, advertise on the Three Weird Sisters. [4]

I ask you, Bones, ¿what better cause can ScroogeBank, an’ Warbucks Defense Widgets, an’ maybe even a few non-corporate citizens of exceptional Vi®tue an’ Wisdo™, find to throw a little money at for self-ostentation purposes than ‘warrors’ an’ ‘heroes’? The Brown Poor simply aren’t in the same league, object-of-charitywise. [5]

For consider the public Exmas givin’ quandry of Ebenezer XIV or Oliver VIIII or Firstlord Murdoch or the Koch Siblin’s: "¿How. oh ¿how?," wonders the kiddiecons’ Uncle Ebb to himself,"Can WE ever be absolutely sure that OUR generous, if WE don’t say so OURSELVES, benefactions will not fall into unwhighteous hands, dirty hands of Bad Poors who pull the lever for Lieberalism an’ for Demonocracy?"

Now to give exclusively to Heroic Warriors is not *absolutely* safe, but I betcha it sure beats whatever comes second. [6]

Indeed, Dr. Bones, perhaps we should reconsider our recent decision to abolish the traditional category of "good poor" and reinstate it with "persons of (State) violence, current or former" as (for now, at least) sole occuopants of the pigeonhole. Reconfigured like that, the category would mystify a Brit Victorian accustomed to the real thing--¡fancy Tommy Atkins crowding out the widows and orphans!--but I daresay not many Brit Vicks will be writing to the Times of Murdoch to protest in the year of religionism 1433-2012-5772.

Happy days.
--JHM

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[1] In Spanshlingo, _el tritón_. In the dielect of Rio Limbaugh, at least. Madrid and Buenos Aires, I dunno about for sure.

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[2] "¿Why must they travel, who are NOT here?" is no doubt the key question about crimmigrants an’ criminaliens , but I’m in a Buckley Minor (or Plutarchus-of-Chæronea mood and prefer not to crudely talk about my own announced subject before everybooby is thoroughly bored with what I do talk about instead.

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[3] The RK9 DP is identical with the late Perfesser Kirk’s "conservative mind."

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[4] For those of them at Rio Limbaugh (or Shanghai or Bangalore), Princess Goneril is WTKK-FM 96.9, and Princess Regan (no relation to Ronald XL) is WRKO AM 680, while poor Cinderella must content herself with Party Neocomrade (seventh grade) J. X. Katz, an’ fifty thousand watts at twelve hundred wingocycles of modified amplitude. Plus also the Witch Doctor of Democracy. Mizz Cindy used to call herself "Rush Radio 1200" but then suddenly that stopped. Puppy love amongst the kiddiecons no doubt has its quarrels.

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[5] With rare individual exceptions. Brownies of the male persuasion who enlist as violence pros presumably qualify for free cellphones (or whatever bennies) on the same terms an’ conditions as those who look more like _bonâ fide_ Americanoe rifletoters.

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[6] Almost certainly what comes second is dread diseases. And the reason is plain: Uncle Ebb an’ Daddy Ollie _y Tio Ruperto_ are nearly as likely to die of them personally as are _señores las indocumentadas y los indocumentados_ or those with that involuuntary servitude problem in their pre-1865 background. Legally, the American Cancer Society is a charity, but from the psychological standpoint of a TopPercenter, to fund heroic tumorfighters, in moderation, is no doubt much more like a prudent an’ thoroughly selfocentric specuvestment. Even if all the Pasteurs an’ Schweitzers an’ Salks an’ Cricks an’ Watsons voted Demoncrat to a man, that deplorable exxentricity would hardly matter, because there are very few of them.

Furthermore, if the lucky number does come up before Uncle Ebb ‘passes’, almost certainly succesful tumorfightin’ will be so expensive in most cases that nonpercenters need not apply. Best of all, probably, from the Ebenezeroid or Oliverite perspective, will be all the wheelin’ an’ dealin’ an’ specuvestin’ in stocks an’ shares of new secret-sector business corporations specializin’ in Big Cancer. The Bad Poor will have no better chance of gettin’ rich off the Great Tumor Boom of 2023 than of getting healed by the wunnerdrugs.

But Galen knows best.

Blimp Unready for Prime Time Twelve Ways

Dear Dr. Bones,

The usual liberal complaint against the conservative opposition to higher income taxes is greed and the better-offs’ self-serving reluctance to pay their “fair share.” But while perhaps true in some instances, I don’t think that is an accurate writ against most of those in that now demonized $200,000 and above categories who resent forking over more. Rather, here are a random 12 complaints that I hear from those who become furious about preposed higher income tax rates:

and then we get the Twelve Tables of the Blimp, on the margins of which I shall now doodle a few graffiti of my own.



(1a) ¿Why any ‘bite’ at all? Our Betters have given us, for example, Rear-Colonel V. D. Hanson-Blimp himself, an’ the late Mr. Jobs, an’ Einstein, an’ Spinoza, an’, in short, the whole Whight Civilisation of the Western Race. To ask them to pay taxes on top of whole millennia of unilateral and preëmptive benefaction would be like interceptin’ St. Nick at the chimney to collect an exit fee.

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(2a) This one appears to be Freelord Blimp slightly misundertandin’ the Hooverville barkin’ points, or at least runnin’ a number of them together injudiciously, plus tossin’ in rather to much of his freelordship’s favorite subject, "My big-farming near neighbor" &c. &c. Anyway, several different _respondeo_s are called for:

(2a-A) His freelordship is tryin’ to help Ebenezer XIV Scrooge an’ Oliver VIII Warbucks dodge so-called ‘progressive’ taxation, a IWP, "improper & wicked project," _Federalist X_, which antecedently *presumes* the Blessings of Inequality a couple of orders of magnitude more notably than it does anything to lessen them in practice.

(2a-B) His freelordship, bein’ a _konsequent_ inegalitarian, as no doubt befits a violence pro, real or wannabe, observes that inside the ranks of the freelordly Class there are many mansions, not all of them affordable by everybooby Classy. This is certainly the case, as a matter of fact, but how it is supposed to work towards proppin’ down the taxes of all Hoovervillains generally beats me. It looks, though, like a sound argument for havin’ six dozen different tax rates rather than only half a dozen, when one goes in for impropriety an’ wickedness.

(2a-C) Taxation of the Classy won’t--cannot possibly--rase enough money to pay for ALL the improper wickednesses that we fiends have resolved to perpetrate. This one, at least, must have been on the barkin’ points actually handed to Col. Blimp to work from. Since all the TopPercenters’ scabs bark like that, counterpoints have been prepared by keyboards more gifted than this one with things like Nobel Prizes in Economics. So ¡let Blimp go argue with Comrade Kruggie about it over here ! [1]

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(3a) Most of what gets swiped in taxation goes whight to the Bad Poor. Here is the heart of it, I suppose, as opposed to the dittopan, whose location is discussed in note [1] to (2a-C).

Or one of the hearts, rather. What I mean by thinking at once of ‘heart’ is that this is Blimp’s best bet for appealin’ to his own hormone-baser Party base an’ vile. "Another’s tears are water," says the Russian proverb, very soundly: it is difficult to imagine a Blimp workin’ Wally Wombschool an’ Cynthia Wasillatensis up into a phrenzy ’bout taxation simply as takin’: *their* hearts won’t be broken if Ebenezer XIV cannot afford quite so many yachts an’ polo ponies next year. No, Dr. Bones, when you really wanna get the couch potatoes up off their potatoe couches an’ ready to stick a pitchfork in the enemies of the Classy, the thing to do is fib to ’em a little about how the loot is distributed once it has been snatched. "Auntie Zeituni" over in Southie, for example. Or like "foreign aid," which certainly deserves to be shudder-quoted once the whightists get through barkin’.

(( This disjunction works both ways: Ebenezer XIV an’ Oliver VIII an’ probably Blimp, in his freelordship’s private capacity, do not actually much mind if bad-poor old Auntie is happy whether in Boston or in Botswana. They only want to keep their "Bush tax cuts" plus . . . plus then maybe ask for a little more economic justice still after they get that coonskin firmly nailed down an’ the Confidence Fairy has once again been sighted at Rio Limbaugh. Only that an’ nothin’ more. Not anythin' more at the moment, thank you, but call again in the mornin' . . . . ))

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(4a) Point IV *seems* to mean, murkily, that Blimp supposes the Wicked State can always borrow (or perhaps simply print) whatever loot it requires, so ¿Why must it rob the Classy too?

This is a very important question for serious mammonologists, but because Blimp is even farther off than the Muses and thou and I from bein’ any sort of political œconomist, I will punt this one for now, hoping to get back to it some day when I get to set the stage and enunciate The Points.

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(5a) Though ‘efficiency’ sounds very grown-up and mammonological, and therefore also better passed over by the likes of me for the reason just given, this is maybe not entirely the case. Master Wally an’ Mizz Cindy cherish, I believe, certain lay-sheep notions of efficiency to which whightist agitproppers like Blimp can appeal, even if Mr. Ricardo would not give such stuff the time of day, not to speak of more recent practitioners. ¿How about "¡WE could sure spend that money better than Auntie Zeituni ever could!"

That is gross confusion, no doubt, a positive Confoundation of Kingdoms. But you are to reflect, Dr. Bones, that even on a good day with a strong wind empowering one’s generators, and even after more than two centuries of economics as a psocial scientism, one has to watch oneself like a hawk watching a Blimp to avoid letting moralism break in at least a little when one ventures a reflection like "X could spend the money better than Y could." That form of words does not, obviously, mean the same thing to a hedge-fund specuvestor or to a Bane Capitalist that it means to the Otherparty base an’ vile, but to suppose that even the Freelords of Finance understand ‘efficiency’ in a strictly amoral (_wertlos_) fashion is naïve.

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(6a) Blimp is quight whight to reveal that the betterness of our Betters is not to be judged by salaries alone. Very odd, though, that his freelordship cannot bring himself to mention anythin’ in particular by name that matters more, like ‘wealth’ or ‘Power’.

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(7a) ¡Tusk, tusk -- to sink to the level of mere Psychobabble! Hoovervillainy really *has* rotted the poor man’s dittopan.

Well, the only thing to do with "So-an’-so makes me sick" is throw it back at once like a grenade: his freelordship ought now to have some insight into how the "Occupy Televisionland" kiddies feel on discovering that nothing whatsoever is really and truly "beyond the dreams of Avarice."

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(8a) This is certainly one of the best barkin’ points available to her who scabs for ScroogeBank an’ Warbucks Defense Widget Inc.

Blimp passes over it so rapidly that I suspect his freelordship agrees with me that this is rather too precious a pearl to cast before pajamaclads. Though all kiddie selfservatives are children, at best, when they reflect, yet there is no way of either Blimp or myself guessing their chronological ages in a market-research way, so as to know, that is, which cohorts to pander to and how.

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(9a) This point is not so good, though next only to Point Two (I think) in frequency of gettin’ barked elsewhere.

One trouble with secret-sector Charity is that it "begins at home" and rarely falls far from the tree. When the literal gates go up around their freelordships’ gated communites, when the barbed wire, an’ the Rotweilers, an’ the mine fields, an’ the counterstormtroopers are finally set in place, no apple is likely to roll down to the Bad Poor out in the wilderness under any circumstances.

Most Conners of Kiddies do not mind this patchiness (so to euphemize), though when they essay to defend it directly, old-fangle _caritas_ tends to go supply-side an’ turn out have more to do with the True Freedumb® of Freedame Bountiful than with the requirements of the needy.

(( It occurs to me that devout dilbertarians must find our good Rear-Colonel unsatisfactory when it comes to promotin’ the True Freedumb® ideoproduct, one which they specially affect. Still,. there are three Points to go . . . . ))

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(10a) Well, ‘technocracy’ can pass for Freedumb™-related, I suppose. ¡ScroogeBank an’ WDW certainly don’t want any stinkin’ ‘experts’ pushin’ ’em around!

But I fear Blimp is not really all that interested in it from a tip-of-the-classberg perspective such as Ebenezer XIV or Oliver VIII naturally take. It sounds to me as if his freelordship is mostly rehearsin’ some Faculty Club pet peeves of his own here, quite a number of notches down the Great Chain of Bein’ from his paymasters. Doubtless it drives Blimp up the stratosphere whenever somebody like St. Elizabeth of Warrenbuffet starts talking as if she could do his freelordship’s tertiary-academic job better than he does it, if only she could spare a weekend or two to learn some Grief an’ Laffin’ like Blimp knows. Is alleged to know.

I’d be a little annoyed, too, by that, but since there is no danger whatever of this replacement actually happening, what is at stake here is not his freelordship’s True Freedumb™, only more like his _amour propre_.

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(11a) This is merely Point III reworded a little, yet another moan that what the Wicked State steals as taxation from the Classy goes chiefly to the Bad Poor. [2]

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(12a) The Bad Poor are not doing badly at all on the material side, not if contrasted with "coal-dusted Dickensian London" or (let me add) the condition of most Lesser Breeds Without even today, out there beyond us pale in the Native-ridden boondocks of the world..

Nothin’ whatever to do with ™rue F®eedumb whatever has that empirical circumstance to do, though since nobooby is likely to deny it, it achieves not much for the Inegalitarian Argument to adduce it.

Actually, Dr. Jones, it looks to me as if his freelordship took off his intellectual pajamas, as it were, in the last few Points an’ went back to bed while his fingers kept on keystrokin’.

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Presumably Blimp is anglin’ for an invitation to debate St. Elizabeth of H*rv*rdy, her of the "intellectual foundations" of Occupy Televisionland.

Well, I would not complain if that were to happen. Her Beatitude happens to be a good guy, an’ his freelordship a (formerly) high-class whightist scab, but happenstance is about all that is. So ’twould be _par congressus_ all ’round. Which is NOT to say, however, that it would be worth watching.

Happy days.
--JHM


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[1] Considered as a rhetorical or ‘agitpropitational’ technique, of course, those who scab for the Classy in writin’ cannot posibly bark this one too often, so his freelordship is rather to be commended than otherwise for includin’ it. Even if it does tend to make his freelordship look like the possessor of dittopan that resembles a post-tornado junkyard.

NEVERTHELESS, I think Wally Wombschool an’ Cindy from Wasilla might have had their faith bolstered with a 13,409th repetition of the counterfactual without all the higgledy-pigglediness borrowed from his freelordship’s neighbor’s barn. She who sets up to vouchafe _urbi et orbi_ Fourteen Points (like St. Woodrow), or Ten (like Father Zeus), or Twelve (thus Blimp, splittin’ the difference between these distinguished Predecessors), ought to arrange them a little to suggest a little hierarchy. "First things first" is not the only acceptable rule, but there certainly ought to be some rule.

And ¡ESPECIALLY! there ought to be some kind of hierarchy in a list of points to be barked out in support of Lady Hierarchia Herself by some stout _Defensor Inequitalitatis_.

Now to put "But the Wicked State can never loot *enough* from the Daughters of Virtue & Sons of Wisdom, L.L.C. " first logically, if not necessarily literally, would be very reasonable, physical impossibility being about as conclusive an argument as exists. Since, however, it is so extremely conclusive that it rather tends to make whatever else one orates look otiose, probably it would work best as bottomline. In which case it is ten places out of order _chez Blimp_, over an’ above bein’ squirreled away amidst the higs an’ the pigs of Point II like Achilles hiding himself amongst the women.

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[2] It’s well worth a whightwinger moanin’ about from the rhetorical or agitpropper perspective, I allow, but at the moment we are trying to discuss his freelordship’s matter rather than either his personal neostyle or the Platonic Form of Persuasion.

Dereliction of Blurbin'

Dear Dr. Bones,

¿Who would do Mil. Sci. best, by the neocriterious an’ weekly-shiftin’ standards of Foxcuckooland, if not a news-commentary humorist?

¡Yet even a stopped clock is whight twice a day!

The McTime, by the way, is now [11/27/2011 04:49]. Put that in the memorandumb your prepare about this portentous phænomenon please, of a wingnutette that actually gets off the runway a little, accuracywise. It has nothing to do with the case, I know, but I want it around in the waiting room to keep poor Ambassador Huntsman company.

His freelordship of UT, too, has nothin’ to do with the fact that Secretary MacNamara’s War was presided over by none other than . . .

.... Hmmm. Is that "!Wait, wait, don’t tell me!" I hear you thinking, sir?

Well, there is no urgent need for *me* to disclose Ms. Clio’s punchline. You and I can talk instead about the latest degeneration of the pajamaclads, offerin’ us what *purports* to be NCH, news-commentary humor, but is really only an advertisement for somebooby’s book.

Neocomrade Rear-Colonel (as he now is-- as we all are on Monday mornin’s forty years after the game) H. R. McBooby

Should you want some more recent O. B., Big LEW says "currently a research fellow at Stanford University’s Hoover Institution."

¡Small world, that his freelordship should prove a Hoovervillain! For here was I, naturally expecting the pet g@@gle to report that our latest Macnam-basher graduated from the _Voyènnaya Akadémiya imieni M. V. Frûnze_. Or thereabouts. ¡What a disappointment to encounter a conventional rake’s progress from Valley Forge to West Point to Galvez Mall 94305!

Dr. Gen Petrolæus (‘David’ to George XLIII) can go back to Princeton, but it looks as if poor unpostgraduated McBooby will have to do that fadin’ away _shtyk_ in the bright sunwhight of CA. Rather a challenge, that may be.

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You might make a separate memorandumb for LEW’s own file: at the end here we get

McMaster was passed over for promotion to brigadier general twice in a row, in 2006 and 2007. As one of "the most celebrated soldier (_sic_) of the Iraq War", this decision was controversial among the public. "The reasoning was possibly his tendency to speak out against the status quo, although it is always for the benefit of the mission and his soldiers."

That seems to me to raise certain fairembalancement questions. To sound rather as if a certain H. R. McBooby wrote it, even. (It would be fun, by the way, to know exactly what teacup that controversy-riven ‘public’ foregathers in.)

As is notorious, your typical Officers Club violence pro acts always for the beneifit chiefly of Number One. DMS, Douglas MacArthur Syndrome, I believe they call this form of brain fever. And, if we may trust our humorist’s account of all these things (a very dubious business, but let’s go along with the gaga) Big Doug an’ little Herbie do broadcast on much the same self-wavelength: "Had Johnson actually listened to the advice of his generals — essentially that *war is war and must be fought to win* — the outcome would certainly have changed."

A native speaker would have written "the oucome would have been different" of course, but the general idea is clear enough.

It is kinda funny-peculiar that our humorist does not realize that he is blurbin’ his ideobuddy’s wannabe potboiler in a way that makes it unnecessary for it to be read at all. One the one hand, decent political adults do not doubt that noble Godzilla *could* have trampled down evil Bambi, had we been prepared to deploy "force without stint or limit." We do not need to be told that, and we account it a thoroughly kiddie notion that that is what should have happened. To make SECWAR readable about by grown-ups would require at least of modicum of sympathy with all those whiz-kid calculations about bigmanagerial cost-effectiveness that his freelordship of MacNamara brought over with him from the Ford Motor Company. Gagster Orr here gives the impression that Rear-Col. McBooby is not interested in that brand of eye glaze at all. Impressions given out by whightists are far from reliable, but when one cares as little about Mil. Sci. and Mil. Hist. as I do, it is not worth $10.68 at Amazon to check out exactly how bad this joke is.

Meanwhile, back at Rio Limbaugh, the selfservative kiddies already know their own notions through an’ through. "OF COURSE we shoulda just nuked ’the Ho Chi Minh out of ’em," barks Wally Wombschool. Hence there is no reason to expect Master Wally to wanna read all about it any more than the Muses or you or I do.

Happy days.
--JHM

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"across the havoc of classwar, a great general"

Dear Dr. Bones,

_M. le Baron de ‘Spengler’_ is an old semi-acquaintance, one of the few virtual Hongkonghites one knows well enough to recognize again. Exactlty what Virtual Hongkonghia may has to do with the A.R.E., Arab Republic of Egypt, is an interesting, perhaps even an alarming, question. [0]

Whatever else may be goin’ on here, certainly there is lots an’ lots of whight-wing internationalism. I think--let’s start with nomenclature, ¿shall we?--we should call spenglerisin’ something like W.W.I. rather than plain old vanilla ‘globalism’, a term that always makes me think first (1) of little Tommy Wobble with the big moustache and then (2) start fingering my revolver, or whatever that is in my pocket. Ninety-nine percent of Homeland™ whightists think Tommy is one of us, a Lieberal Demoncrat of some sort, which by it self is a splendid tribute to the efficacy of wombschoolin’ an’ freedumbin’ down. Tommy *did* have certain advantage in Life denied to Wally Wingnut an’ Cindy from Wasilla, like GGP and that whole service of sterling flatware removed from his digestive tract shortly after birth, but . . . .

I digress. The thing is, ‘globalism’ comes with lots of neobaggage attached to it, whereas ‘internationalism’ lost all its suitcases and carpetbags years ago: "¿Who now reads Thomas Woodrow Wilson?" We can now start over whight from scratch with ‘internationalism’. At first, no doubt, we will have to insist on the neoreactionary (Spengleroid) complexion of the ideoproduct almost every time it is alluded to, but eventually the epithet will drop away. This is what happened with the former "political economy," for instance: the dismalness did not get less political as it darkened, on the contrary, it got so totally political that there was nothing left for the P-word to mark a boundary with.

Bein’ a furriner, _M. le Baron_ can say certain things that would still give offense in the mouth of a Homeland™ic, like for example that real fun title of his freelordship’s, "Lootin’ the Egyptian Currency: Democracy in Action."

Out on Hongkonghia, you understand, lootin’ an’ democracy not only have about the same low prestige, but are in serious danger of not bein’ distinguished at all. [2] [3]

Happy days.
--JHM

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[0] Every worrier retains the freedumb to worry about possible e-Hongkonghian designs on Rio Limbaugh FL, say, or on Pajama Junction NJ. Myself, I say "¿Who cares?" Should Foo Man ‘Spengler’ manage to buy all their real estate out from under the yocals, maybe those holes will stop lookin’ like the parts of the junk yard that failed to congeal into an airliner when Hurricane Crawford hit back in 2008."

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[1] Approximately. Round numbers good enough for "Occupy Televisionland" ought to be good enough for us. I mean, ¿what are we, sir, stinking elitists?

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[2] All whight-wing internationalists (Spengleroids) must, I think, be taken to be Lootless Cosmopolitans until the contrary has been safely demonstrated beyond doubt. Even then, perhaps one should find a different L-word for it when they do it. ‘Lucky’ comes to mind at once, but of course that would be the mind of the present keyboard that it comes to, rather than the dittopan of a Spengleroid. Their freelordships (at least the Homeland™ic ones) do not much care bein’ called ‘Lucky. Or for that matter ‘Ace’ or ‘Slim’ or anythin’ else that might suggest their freelordships specuvest an’ investulate in plebeian poker rather than in financial instruments not understanded of the smallpeople.

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[3] Bein’, as I said, a furriner, his freelordship very genteelly abstains from takin’ any cheap shots at the _Heimatland G*ttes_. ¿What homebrew pajamaclad could scribble words like

[T]he Egyptian mob wants to help itself to the contents of armored cars, considering that the Egyptian press and blogs have reported for months that the country’s leaders are stealing rice, diesel oil, propane, and other commodities whose distribution is controlled by state companies. If everyone is stealing, why shouldn’t the man in the street get his share, too?

without instantly pointin’ out that all this is but a pale imitation an’ rip-off of the "Occupy Televisionland" show an’ of the Ponzi Security Administration?

One would have to be blind, of course, not to notice that his freelordship is agitproppin’ to make the holy Homeland™ more like his own e-Hongkonghia, tryin’. I mean, to disabuse Master Wally an’ Mizz Cindy of the pernicious notion that lingers in their dittopans, even despite all wombschoolin’ an’ despite countless daily séances with Party Neocomrade Dr. R. H. Limbaugh, that Democracy is somehow not quite as bad as lootin’. Unlike most of his freelordship’s Yank counterparts, _M. le baron de ‘Spengler’_ knows better than to yank too hard at the beginnin’ of the course of therapy. "Softly, softly, catchee monkey" -- when Wally an’ Cindy finally *do* see the whight an’ become consciously antidemocratic as well as illiberal, they are to suppose that they figured everythin´ whighteous out for themselves.

That arrangement is much more satisfactory from the agitation-and-propaganda viewpoint because if Master Wally were to say "I read about Hate-Democracy-First in Freddy von Hayek" an’ then Mizz Cindy echoes "‘Spengler’ told me about HD1 last year as an unexpected Exmas present," the HDF meme is much less likely to go pandemic. At Rio Limbaugh an’ Pajama Junction, "not invented here" (frankly admitted, that is, for of course hardly anything actually *was* invented ‘here’) is almost certain to stop an ideoproduct dead in its tracks. Though I am far from understanding the psychology of this sales resistance in full, I assume that wombschooled Wally ferociously dislikes findin’ himself painted into a corner where somebooby else--a particular Party neocomrade whose name is remembered an’ might be mentioned, though naturally it will not be--has every whight to bark "¡I told you so!"

Most of the amateur Conners of Kiddies over to Pajama Junction seem to have a sort of colourblind thumb when it comes to agitproppin’ for whighteousness. They are so ungood at meme diffusion that one laughs from them. Here we have a far-fetched freelordship who evidently understands how to do it whight, which make him more of a danger, I suppose, but also much more instructive. Better recreation as well.

As St. Winnie of the Dardanelles well said on a similar occasion: We have a very daring and skillful opponent against us, and, may I say across the havoc of war, a great general."

’Tis no accident, though, that when the _padjama du jour_ turns out to be competent for once, it should be a freelordship of whom one has actually heard before.

I fear the World’s Greatest YaleoDrama™ist is himself black of thumb when it comes to runnin’ a farm team for the Foxcuckooland Foghorns. The best of Squire Simon-Pajama’s particular neofriends an’ _protégés_, goodvolks who exist as whightist agitproppers only thanks to PJM, are undoubtly the sub-Cincinnatian Th. X. Blumer an’ Don Ricardito de Fernández y Podhòretz. This, however, is a very restricted an’ specialized sort of ‘best’ in at least two respects: (1) though McTrickledown likes them well enough, they are rather like the music of the late Herr von Dvorak in that McTD likes them much better than any general consensus can reasonably be expected to endorse.

And (2), their attraction is mostly their socio-economico-factional exemplariness. The gruesome twosome do not, in fact, agitprop particularly well, they are certainly not to be mentioned with _M le baron de ‘Spengler’_ in the same breath as technicians, but they do, in McTD’s judgment, cast a great deal of whight on who the Daughters of Virtue & Sons of Wisdon, LLC, are, an’ on where’ these freevolks are comin’ from.

Naturally Freelord ‘Spengler’ comes from too far away for a neocomradologist of central North America to take much professional interest. In the improbable event that e-Hongkonghia diagnoses Egypt whight an’ prescribes treatment that cures the patient, that would be great for Egyptians (maybe), but ought to raise scarcely a ripple in these parts. ¡Fancy Master Wally, that stout detester of "¡I told you so!", reactin’ to the advice that he an’ Mizz Cindy should take the same Murti-Bing® pills that worked for towelhead _falláhín_! I mean, "¿How unwhighteous would THAT be?

The Muses and thou, O Bones, and I would get a kick out of reflecting, safe up here in our Poison Ivory Tower, that ‘Spengler’ would have more than earned his _nom de guerre_. ¿What could be more illustrative of an _Untergang des Abendlandes_ than for the heathen Chinee (release 4.1) to solve Egypt without either quack or patient passin’ through the Western Sieve at any point? If a world that can get better without any assistance from Wunnerful US does not constitute D*CL*N*, that _verbum innominabile inter quondam Christojudæanos_, I cannot imagine what would.

But I betcha Wally an’ Cindy would shrug it off, if they noticed it at all. Like global warmin’, DCLN would not be actually happenin’, ¡not at Hooverville or Rio Limbaugh/Port Ste. Lucie! After all, ¿Hath not Karl, Firstlord an' Kiddiemaster Rove, vouchsafed that

That is not the way the world really works anymore. WE are an Empire now, and when WE act, WE create OUR OWN reality. And while you’re studying that reality -- judiciously, as you will -- WE will act again, creating other new realities, which you can study too, and that’s how things will sort out. WE are history’s actors . . . and you, all of you, will be left to just study what WE do. (( &c. &c.))

?

"Left to just study," I expect Cairo and Kowloon would "judiciously" play hooky for all they are worth, but that will not be a neoreality inside the confines of the Holy Rovan Empire of the Whightwing Nation, where "not invented here" has at last become *absolutely* identical with ‘nonexistent’.

But Oswald knows best.

Introducing FlipflopCare

Dear Dr. Bones,

One had thought ’Romneycare’ a word of mere abuse hurled from the general direction of Louisedayhicksville, but no, not at all, for here

‘Dumper’ scam bleed$ us dry Dodgers jump on, off insurance, costing Mass. taxpayers millions By Frank Quaratiello Friday, November 25, 2011 (...) A gaping loophole in state insurance rules that lets freeloaders pick up coverage to pay for expensive surgeries — and then dump it once they’re treated — has cost taxpayers as much as $37 million a year, according to a study that warns the same wrinkle in Obamacare could add a staggering $2 billion a year to the deficit-wracked [F]ederal budget. Exploiting a state provision that forces insurers to cover patients with pre-existing medical conditions, thousands of so-called “jumpers and dumpers” are buying plans just before major operations and procedures, and then chucking their coverage and passing those costs onto residents who play by the rules, according to a study by Suffolk University’s Beacon Hill Institute obtained by the Herald. (...)

come some ’conservative’ ’intellectual’ señoritos to explain that Governor Mittens has in fact erected a remarkable bureaucratic monument to his own best an’ most spiritual neoqualities, recognized as such even by his freelordship’s political adversaries. This grand mischievement is rather as if the late General Bonaparte had left France with a coastline carved in the shape of his own Imperial mug.

So let us resolve, Dr. Bones, henceforth always to refer to ... ¡ta-Da! ... FLIPFLOPCARE , not merely because anybooby can flip in and then flop out of it as her portfolio manager may think best, but especially in honor of the Venerable Framer.

That said, it looks as if the V. F. should be reminded about it himself, because once you really understand how FFC works, you see that any resemblance to the evil new Fedguv programme mandatewise is entirely imaginary. I don’t suppose Mittens could actually get such a grown-up distinction across to, say, His Texcellency or Mr. Nine Guy or Don Neutrino de Gingrich, in front of cameras an’ commentators’ an’ (maybe) a few hundred thousand Party nutbats from sea to whinin’ sea--with stupidity, the Stupid Party itself contends in vain, after all--but his freelordship certainly ought to try.

That said, let’s shoot the messenger a little, ¿shall we? Party Neocomrade (eighth grade) F. X. Quaratiello is, I take it, local talent at LDHville, still lookin’ for a way to break out into the whight lights of the big city. Some kind ideobuddy should, I think, advice the laddie to omit footnotes like "according to a study by Suffolk University’s Beacon Hill Institute obtained by the _Herald_."

True, if I were to hand you a copy of my employing corporation’s next press release and pester you to print it, it would not be inaccurate, technically, to say "obtained by Dr. Bones" after the fact. But I put it to you, sir, that such language involves a genuine and significant _suggestio falsi_ as to which party took the active, and which the passive-aggressive rôle, in the humanoid event. Were you to report it the PNC-8 FXQ way, your empoying corporation’s poor customers are like to fantasize that you burgled McTrickledown’s apartment at the Watergate Arms in the early hours of the morning in order to do your ‘obtaining’. I appreciate that you couldn’t possibly call a press release of this type "a press release," but there is no need for you or the PNC-8 FXQ mechanism to call your sources anything at all, not even ‘sources’.

I would not go so far as to suggest that the _Herald_ of LDHV must explain exactly who pays for the BHI of SU (an’ why) every single time that muchesteemed [1] Tank-a’-Thought is mentioned. ("¿Who *is* Chuck Rounds?." inquired the late Miss Rand of St. Petersburg and Planet Dilbert, as she rose from the crypt just after nightfall. "Why, ¡he sounds like the name of a crumby restaurant!") To mandate _expressio veri_ ‘proäctively’ would be an outrageous assault on the Great Wall of Jeffersonian Separation of Market and State, even I admit that, yet silence is not proäction or proäctivity or proäctivism or proä . . . .

Well, what it comes to with the PNC-8 FXQ mechanism at the end of the day is simply _Si tacuisses, diurnalisticus mansisses_.

That said, we may move on to suspect that the PNC-8 FXQ mechanism (and/or its employin’ Corporation) decided to rewrite the BHI-SU press release they obtained somehow rather than pass it along to the LDHV kiddiecons verbatim. At any rate, that is what one infers when an intellectually respectable organ writes up a story from Major Leaker with only parts of it punctuated as direct quotation. ¡The rest of it had damnwell BETTER be accurate paraphrase!

(( DIGRESSION. The student should note that inaccuracy of paraphrase can be of various sorts, and especially that it need not be the result of willful an’ malignant twistification in the path of Party an’ Ideology. Maybe Master Cliff- simply did not understand the original from which he was scribblin’ his employin’ Corporation’s -Notes™. This happens all the time, it seems to me, and in fact one can see it happening several times daily, as follows: read through any article and then recur to the headers and especially the subheaders at the top of it. Master Cliff- , dba headline editor of The Herald of Louisedayhicksville or whatever fishwrap you like, often tries to summarize the fish as he wraps ’em, and nearly as often (as it seems to McPessimist) causes one to doubt his readin’ comprehension skills. There are ten doubts of that type for every one about Master Cliff-´s ability to keep his, or his employin’ Corporation’s, factious hormones in check. [2] ))

That said, I wish you, sir, as ever,

Happy days (through affordable health care).
--JHM

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[1] mnogouvazhàyemiy

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[2] In the case at hand, there is nothing to tax Master Cliff- with apart from one sill¥ ¢urrency symbo£. If that juve sort of clownin’ annoys you, though, the thing to do is stay away from LDHV altogether. Brats *will* be brats, I fear, and if one tries to reform ’em, one only winds up establishing one’s own need to review King Canute’s famous object lesson on the topic.

¡It’s Turkey Day in the Morning!

Dear Dr. Bones,

" Thank Lord Mammon HE has got / Louisedayhicksville and we" . . . not so much.

Meanwhile, back in the stable, I wonder what hormones it triggers in Howard Lewis, Freelord Carr in the peerage of Foxcuckooland, to have a whole string of frathouse fillies not just swoonin’ over the freelordly prose style, as naturally a frathouse filly would, but actually presumin’ to imitate it, a procedure that might well be called ‘uppity’,were we discussing a different whightist stereotype.

Lemme see, the Funders of Fratboy, dba _The Boston Humbug_ , have engaged at least the followin’ Party neocomradesses

(1) Braceras, J. C.
(2) Chabot, H. X.
(3) Eagan, M. X. (Tonta to ‘Deuce’ Braude),
(4) McConville, Ch. X. (¡a lovely surname, ’specially that second syllàble!),
(5) Robichaud, H. X.

This list required no more effort of the present keyboard than to remember my pet favorite whight-wing squalk show (96.9 FM 0700-1000 weekdays) and scan the first page of search results _chez_ Humbug for St. Elisabeth of H*rv*rdy, _regina et martyr_. [1]

"Chris Cassidy," it appears, is of the other sexual persuasion. ¿Wasn’t Life less unfair back in the old days when one could always tell correctly without mounting an investigation?

As I vaguely recall there is yet another _Herald_she-angel with some Canuck-soundin’ name not unlike ‘Robichaud’, enough like it to have made me wonder for a microsecond if the humbuggers could be importin’ ’em in quantity to get a lower price.

There are so many that I presume they cannot possibly all have WON the Ideological Swimsuit Competition; the Fratboy Funders must have selected a least a few second-placers.

Gobble, gobble.
--JHM



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[1] Notice that PNC-5 Robichaud at e-_loc. cit._ has thought of the _‘regina’ shtyk_ for her ownneoself, even if she looks no farther afield than Mrs.Windsor-Saxe-Coburg-Gotha over on Airstrip One.

BTW, I betcha wombschoolin’ an’ freedowndumbin’ are not havin’ any good effect on the Ratzingerites’ catechism classes. Though to be fairembalanced, one should say that back before the Great Decerebration, junior Papishes probably needed not much more idea of "St. Elizabeth of Hungary" beyond that She must have played for the whight or home team.

Not really hard to guess, that one. Not nearly as hard as finding a likely for-instance of the S-word tip-off pointin’ off in an unwhighteous direction, like maybe "St. John's wort." Or finding a neo-Roman nowadays who has her Don Bosco down cold, despite havin’ attended a wombschool named for somebooby other than Donnie boy herself.