If you peasants can be convinced to settle for less, that would sure be convenient for our garbage ruling caste since it has proven itself utterly incapable of even marginal performance in achieving merely the bare minimum standards of its job. Do you have security? How about prosperity? Does the future look bright?
No, everything is much, much worse now than it was just a few years ago, and you are insane, stupid, and/or an insurrectionist for merely noticing, much less saying so. It’s all a conspiracy theory, the “conspiracy” being seeing and talking about what everyone sees is happening right in front of us.
Speaking of worse, why are 90% of airplane passengers complete idiots starting the moment they get on board?
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Lower Your Expectations, Serfs
You are asking for too much, you terrible person. You want cheap gas and a functioning supply chain, air conditioning and not to eat bugs. But most of all, you expect the elite to actually do its job, and for that, you are terrible. And racist.
Bums litter our streets figuratively and – in ghastly form – literally. Criminals run rampant unmolested by the gendarmes, who have been told – expressly and impliedly – to let the crooks be. Our economy is sensational, groovy, glorious – except for the inflation and the hollowing out of your 401K. Try to buy a house instead of renting – just try.
The globalist elite has failed in doing what we want, but it seems to be doing what it wants. It is gathering power and payoffs unto itself, and that is precisely the goal. If we are worrying about feeding our families – and they control the food – then we are less likely to get uppity and demand that our elite not suck.
The problem for them is that, at least in America, we still have some power to change things without conflict. But elsewhere, where the path to peaceful change is blocked by undemocratic regimes, it’s getting ugly. In Sri Lanka, where the government decided to ban fertilizer because some Davos nimrods wished to appease an angry weather goddess, they rebelled. In Holland, the Dutch farmers are rebelling in order to save their farms from a similar fate. But in Canada, the truckers rebelled, and they were crushed. Now, Trudeaussolini is trying the same fertilizer scam. Who had “Famine in Manitoba” on his 2022 bingo card?
And here in America, they tried to ban modern guns. I wonder why.
The real defining election issue for the next couple of decades is going to be whether we choose to move into a future of shared prosperity, where everyone lives free and safe and well, or toward the WEF feudalism model where we own nothing, have no freedom, and obey our unaccomplished overlords. That is how we need to put it. If you vote for a Democrat, you vote for tampon shortages and auto burglaries, at least for the time being until they ban private automobiles. Oh, and let’s not forget mutilating your kid both mentally with CRT and physically with surgery via elite gender nonsense.
They really do hate you, and they really do want you dead or enslaved. And until every Republican politician gets that, until they learn what time it is, we’re going to merely manage the decline instead of going on the counter-offensive and wreaking these people and their trash ideology once and for all.
Are People on Planes Getting Dumber?
I have had to fly a lot in recent weeks in connection with my new non-fiction book, “We’ll Be Back: The Fall and Rise of America” – six weeks, six trips. One thing has become abundantly clear. People are getting dumber, and there’s no better demonstration than taking a flight.
First of all, flights are unbelievably expensive. It’s incredible. An economy ticket is what a first-class fare would have been when Trump was in office, and now a first-class ticket requires your firstborn. And for some reason, the crews now feel like they have to talk to you all the time. Safety briefing? Fine. But I don’t need the pilot’s musings on his thoughts about life. Fly the damn plane. If we’re hitting turbulence, warn us. Tell us when we are arriving. Otherwise, silence. I want to sit there and stew unharangued.
And no, I do not need to hear about your wonderful credit card offers or be warned not to drink my own booze – like every normal person, I hit the bar before I fly instead of sneaking snorts of McCallan in my seat like a teen raiding dad’s liquor cabinet. Here’s one idea, though. Adequate ground staffing so that there is more than one person checking luggage for 300 people. It’s like every flight is a surprise – “Gee, who would have thought a 777 would hold a lot of people?”
And the passengers… cue the circus music. Look, I don’t think you need a top hat and tails to fly, but a lot of these people dress like hobos who got vomited up by other hobos. The boarding process is a parade of muffin tops and tacky tatts. Thanks for the glimpse of your pierced navel, lady – here’s an idea: Wear a shirt.
Carry-on luggage…who is unaware that bin space is tight and that your steamer trunk won’t fit? Check your damn bags, people. I was consigned to steerage once, and this dude from some bizarre foreign country is sitting there and in the foot space where my feet go is this giant lute – I think it was an oud. And he looks at me like I’m the idiot when I say, “Hey, you need to get your blanking oud out of my seat.” We did not chat on the flight, so some good came of it.
Crying kids. I get it. Been there. Crying kids are part of life, and we need to deal. I am not complaining about that. We need strong young to fight communists, so children should be encouraged and parents rewarded instead of hassled. But you don’t have to let your kid sing a song. Unless it is “Love Will Tear Us Apart” or “Anarchy in the UK” – that would rock.
Then there are the mask people with their mask children. I don’t wear masks because I am a man, so I get dirty looks when they have to sit around me. Drones. Oh, and another thing – do not have long, loud cell chats as we board. “Hi, getting on the plane. Call you when I land.” That is the totality of an appropriate cell call on a plane, not some lengthy digression about how Lou in marketing was telling Sheila to get her TP46 forms organized, but she thought he said TP47 forms and shenanigans ensued. Just sit there on the plane in uncomfortable silence as Team Dumbass tries to figure out how storage bins work.