Womp, Womp!

THAT’s how you deal with lib histrionics. Like demons, they have no power over you unless you let them. No apology, no backtracking, no effort at communication with the party that had forsaken every avenue of communication.

It’s fascinating how far our real and putative representatives in the public forum have come. Once you understand that your political foes are irrational, fanatical, that they hate you, that they will destroy you the moment you show good-faith softness (witness SJWs’ destruction of anyone who apologizes for a minor ideological misstep) – you stop treating them like a legitimate party. Like a rebuffed demon, the liar-lib is reduced to impotent howling.

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“You knew how to catch my hand”

Happy Father’s Day.

Two years ago I posted my translation of Zbigniew Herbert’s eulogy-poem “Thoughts About My Father.” The short poem is an arc that begins with the author’s earliest memories of his dad, on through the old man’s decline and death, and beyond to unfinished business.

Also that year, I also compiled father-son songs for the occasion.

How To Help Prevent Mudsharking is not only my all-time most-popular post, it is also a valuable guide for parents of small children that transcends its title.

I thought I’d make this a Father’s Day post for those of you who have girls. I don’t have any daughters so take my exhortation (lock her in an alcove, condition her to flinch when you chamber the backhand, limit her schooling to fifth grade and home crafts) with a grain of salt. Any words of experience from parents of girls?

My thoughts: she was created to submit to male authority. You have the “right of first refusal” as to the source of that authority. Raise her so that she goes to Heaven. She won’t get fat on your watch. Wife, nun, prostitute: choose one. Boys can learn from their mistakes, girls double-down on theirs. She is not the son you never had. Get a good son-in-law and grandchildren through her.

I was at a youth athletic event yesterday. A nine-year-old girl who participates in that league playfully flicked a much younger girl’s ear while walking past the back of her chair. The little girl, maybe three years old, turned around startled. Then her face lit up as she recognized the older one.

There is a time for cynicism, for world-weary facts and logic. But nothing we do would be worth our efforts if there weren’t something that’s higher than those things. I was, for a moment, amazed by the twin-burst of sunlight as the two golden-haired girls goofed with each other, pure joy in their eyes. I vicariously understood a father’s protectiveness for his daughter.

Varius Manx – “Ruchome Piaski” (Quicksand) – 1996

Ja – zamknięta szczelnie w swej skorupie  /  I – tightly shut inside my shell
Ja – powoli staram się zrozumieć  /  I – am slowly trying to understand
Czemu chroniłeś mnie  /  Why you protected me
Wiem, że ciągle próbowałeś pomóc  /  I know, that you always tried to help
Wiem, że miałam Twoje słowa za nic  /  I know, that I ignored your words
Wiem już – myliłam się  /  I know now – I was wrong

Refrain:
Teraz, gdy w ruchomych piaskach tonę  /  Now that I’m drowning in quicksand
I kiedy cała przeszłość przed oczami  /  And when the entire past is in front of my eyes
Rozumiem, rozumiem swój błąd  /  I understand, I understand my mistake
Lecz cofnąć się nie mam szans  /  But there is no possibility of going back
Kiedy ziemia niknie pod nogami  /  When the ground disappears beneath my feet
I gdy już wiem  /  And now that I know
że mogłam wszystko zmienić
  /  that I could have changed everything

Rozumiem, już rozumiem swój błąd  /  I understand, I now understand my mistake
Lecz za późno już…  /  But it’s too late now…

Ty – wiedziałeś, którą wybrać ścieżkę  /  You – knew which path to choose
Ty – umiałeś chwycić mnie za rękę  /  You – knew how to catch my hand
Kiedy spadałam w mrok  /  When I was falling into murk
Dziś brakuje mi Twej dobrej rady  /  Today I miss your good advice
Dziś nie umiem sobie z tym poradzić  /  Today I can’t manage any of this
Dzisiaj zapadam się  /  Today, I am crumbling

[Refrain]

(Lyrics: Andrzej Ignatowski; music: Robert Janson)

Liberal Democracy VS Tradition In A Photo

South Korea vs North Korea:

SKNK

Those are parodic and idealized images, respectively, of the two states. The one on the left shows castration and frivolity. The one on the right lionizes traditional virtues.

Of course, those don’t represent the full reality of Korea’s political systems. The ROK and KATUSA soldiers I trained with in South Korea looked more like the man on the right and an average North Korean male looks more like a starving peasant. Yet the collage delivers the payload because it communicates recognizable truths:

  • Liberal regimes idealize and promote degeneracy.
  • Nationalistic regimes idealize and promote vigor.

Propaganda and reality may miss each other in practice, but even if one country’s reputation for male softness is exaggerated and another’s uprightness is limited to state-approved images, you’re still recognizing a given regime’s aspirational iconography for what it is: the direction it would have you go.

(PS: Liberal democracy, as shorthand for political self-determination of stakeholding citizens,  has a bug that allows those who manipulate public opinion to pit one half of the people against the other half. Alternatives to liberal democracy have their problems but “dogs at each others’ throats” over fabricated wedge-issues is not one of them.)

Pre-revolutionary England

The Scouring of the Shire.

That “Tommy Tommy Tommy Robinson” song the English protesters are chanting is catchy. A revolutionary song. Then the crowd chants thunderously “Shame on you!” at the police. It’s going to be a source of shame, and possibly fear, to be an English policeman.

I saw this in Poland when Communism was on its last legs (Though it didn’t feel that way at the time. People continued to be afraid of the secret police).

The “villain-face” of that regime was its subservience to the USSR, the economic austerity, and the aggressive black-out about Katyń Massacre. The “villain-face” of UK’s current regime is the paki-pedo alliance, anarcho-tyranny, and population replacement.

I’ve been saying this since at least 2009: soon, people will stop believing in neoliberalism and its subsidiary anti-racist ideologies. And after that, people will stop pretending to believe.

See London cops run like rabbits when “Free Tommy” protesters chase them down.

Reconciliation Songs

Pink Floyd “Lost For Words” (1994)

Can you see your days blighted by darkness?
Is it true you beat your fists on the floor?
Stuck in a world of isolation
While the ivy grows over the door

So I open my door to my enemies
And I ask could we wipe the slate clean?
But they tell me to please go fuck myself
You know you just can’t win

Pink Floyd “Poles Apart” (1994)

The rain fell slow, down on all the roofs of uncertainty
I thought of you and the years and all the sadness fell away from me
And did you know
I never thought that you’d lose that light in your eyes

“Poles Apart” features David Gilmour’s last great guitar outro.


Former friends and even family members despise one another over political allegiance. You might mourn the loss of a friendship if you attribute the rift to irresistible forces. In other instances your anger will turn to contempt and then indifference.

None of the above is about romantic falling out, where once it’s over, it’s over. “It Wasn’t Supposed To Be Like This” by the band Budka Suflera is about the hope for two friends, maybe even for a divided nation, to reconcile one day. But not today, when there is no neutral ground.

And that’s for the best. Judge and be judged. Sorting takes many forms. “Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword.”


Budka Suflera “To Nie Tak Miało Być” (1989)

To nie tak miało być  /  It wasn’t supposed to be like this
Zupełnie nie tak  /  Not at all like this
Cały świat miał być nasz  /  The whole world was supposed to be ours
Tylko go brać  /  For the taking
Świat poszedł swoją drogą  /  The world went on its own way
Zostawił nas  /  Left us behind
Coraz rzadziej się śnią  /  So rarely now do we dream
Tęczowe mosty  /  Of bright bridges

To nie tak miało być  /  It wasn’t supposed to be like this
Zupełnie nie tak  /  Not at all like this
Ty i ja jedno drzewo  /  You and I, one tree
Jedna w nas krew  /  One blood flows through us
Ty w końcu poszłaś swoją drogą  /  You finally went your own way
Ja inną drogę znam  /  I know another path
Czy się przetną czy nie  /  Will they cross or not
Jeden Bóg tylko wie  /  Only God knows

Może spotkamy się  /  Maybe we’ll meet
Tam, gdzie trafi każdy z nas  /  There, where each of us ends up
Tam gdzie życie będzie snem  /  Where life will be a dream
Może spotkamy się  /  Maybe we’ll meet
Tam, gdzie w miejscu stoi czas  /  There, where time stands still
Za sto lat, za rok, za dzień  /  In one hundred years, next year, tomorrow

[Guitar solo]

To nie tak miało być  /  It wasn’t supposed to be like this
Zupełnie nie tak  /  Not at all like this
My i wy, mur bez skazy  /  Our side and yours, an unblemished wall
Kryształ i stal  /  Crystal and steel
Przemalowani, podzieleni  /  Repainted, sorted
Na dobrych i złych  /  Into the good and the evil
Na siebie warcząc jak psy  /  Snarling at one another like dogs
Żyjemy tak tyle dni  /  That’s how we spend our days

Może spotkamy się  /  Maybe we’ll meet
Tam, gdzie trafi każdy z nas  /  There, where each of us ends up
Tam gdzie życie będzie snem  /  Where life will be a dream
Może spotkamy się  /  Maybe we’ll meet
Tam, gdzie w miejscu stoi czas  /  There, where time stands still
Za sto lat, za rok, za dzień  /  In one hundred years, next year, tomorrow

Może spotkamy się  /  Maybe we’ll meet
Żeby śpiewać, żeby grać  /  To sing and play 
Tam gdzie każdy sobą jest  /  There, where everyone is himself
Może spotkamy się  /  Maybe we’ll meet
Tam, gdzie w miejscu stoi czas  /  There, where time stands still
Za sto lat, za rok, za dzień  /  In one hundred years, next year, tomorrow

Ja idę moją drogą  /  I go my own way
Ty swoje drogi miej  /  You have your paths
Czy skrzyżują się ze sobą  /  Will they ever cross
Jeden Bóg tylko wie  /  Only God knows
A więc rękę mi daj  /  So give me your hand
I spotkajmy kiedyś się  /  And let’s meet one day
Tam, gdzie każdy sobą jest  /  There, where everyone is himself
I zobaczysz będzie czas  /  And you’ll see, there will be a time
Żeby śpiewać, żeby grać  /  To sing and play
Za sto lat, za rok, za dzień  /  In one hundred years, next year, tomorrow

A więc rękę mi daj  /  So give me your hand
I spotkajmy kiedyś się  /  And let’s meet one day
Tam, gdzie każdy sobą jest  /  There, where everyone is himself
I zobaczysz będzie czas  /  And you’ll see, there will be a time
Żeby śpiewać, żeby grać  /  To sing and play
Za sto lat, za rok, za dzień  /  In one hundred years, next year, tomorrow

Lyrics: Bogdan Olewicz. Music: Romuald Lipko

Carpe Diem

“Having it all”

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Having it all?

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Story (in Spanish)

When it comes to regrets, most peoples’ are about their failure to seize the day. You kick yourself, as a teenager, because you didn’t go for it when she was bright and burning.

Also, as the adage goes, nobody ever dies thinking: “I wish I had spent more time at the office.” An objection is due, in that work is how you provide for your own. If you want to pass important advantages to your posterity, you might have to work long hours. Yet that deathbed saying makes a point that’s similar to that which Game teaches about the limitations of the Beta Provider — what they really want, is you.

For you to be there. For you to hand them the six millennia of Western civilization as their birthright. Workaholism is escapism. The old story about the man working long hours to avoid his wife and the hassle of his kids.

Seizing the day, whether you:

  • Look forward to life as a boy, or
  • You are in media res as a grown man, or
  • You look back on the whole lot of it in old age…

… is these two things:

Adventure. Don’t mistake adventure for trill-seeking, which is a symptom of ennui that compels you to look for a bigger buzz than the last one. Rather, think of the adventurous spirit as strong in people whose life-force compels them to push against restraints.

Legacy. Stop fooling yourself. When you’re gone, everything you’ve done will be forgotten like last year’s snow. Except that one legacy that endures: the lives you’ve brought into this world and guided and provided for.

You have to choose one.

She’ll Be Thinking About Him

Swedish patriot Christoffer Dulny patrols a leftist streetcorner thot. In the video below, he narrates:

Is hate not a legitimate feeling? Man feels hate. Man feels love. Man feels joy. Man feels sorrow. We have a broad spectrum of emotions.

Voiceover dialogue:

Journalist Emelie Rosen: “So it is a Sweden with White people that you want?”

Dulny: “Yes. I want a Sweden with Swedes.”

Rosen: “And Swedes, according to you, are White?”

Dulny: “Swedes are White.”

Observing main participants’ body language and bystanders’ action is interesting in such encounters. The left wing female protester struts away indignantly, but not without posturing like a tough dude who prudently backs away from a fight. I’m reminded of Heartiste’s recent observation about androgynized society:

I see so many 20s and 30s women with the broad shoulders and narrow hips natural to men… Manjaws lumber cityscapes on africanized pelvic fulcrums as their cantilevered shoulders cut swathes through cowed crowds. Their vaginas seem misplaced on them…

Masculinized women are the worst of both men and women, stridently aggressive and competitive like men but lacking the instinct of loyalty, cooperativeness, and duty of men, and cruelly subversive and passive-aggressive like women but lacking the nurturing vulnerability and intoxicating femininity of women.

Getting that placard ripped from her hands is the first time a man told her No.

Girl… you’ll be a woman soon…

A young man in the crowd shakes Dulny’s hand.

Dulny, as I see in my cursory research, is a former budget chief of Sweden Democrats party and now a political activist.