Thinking about Ayn Rand, and Ungrateful Beggars (posted 3/28/25)

I’m working on a column about immigration for Monday, which has involved doing a little research on various immigration acts that the US passed starting in the 1870s, in a period of transition between our early nationhood and the 20th century world power that we became. 

But as I was looking into that topic, an idea kept niggling at me: the explosion of resentful, entitled people who are reacting so hysterically to every aspect of the Trumpkrieg™ that is now two months old.

As soon as I noticed this idea cropping up in many different contexts, I thought of Ayn Rand’s novel Atlas Shrugged, which is a terrible great book.  Or possibly a great terrible book, depending on how you look at it. 

It’s terribleness comes from three primary flaws.  Rand was a curmudgeon, and her grimly doctrinaire atheism makes large swaths of the book an irritating slog.  Her moral worldview is cartoonishly black-and-white, which often makes her characters cardboard stand-ins for intellectual tropes.  And the book is wildly overwritten; my copy comes in at 1168 pages, and it could easily be a tight, fast-moving 250-pager.

But its greatness lies in two strengths. Rand despised totalitarian leftism the way we all should: utterly and passionately.  And the central conceit of the book was an answer to the fascinating question, “What would happen to a corrupt leftist society if its most productive citizens began purposefully disappearing?”    

Written in the mid-1950s, it presciently (if exaggeratedly) predicts the flight of productive citizens from blue to red states that’s been going on over the last 30 years or more.  As CA, NY, and IL get more greedy and socialist, talented people shrug, and vote with their feet, and take their skills and net worth to TN, TX and FL.

The most direct echoes from the book involve the kind of virtue-signaling social justice warriors who simultaneously look down on and criticize the successful people and inventors they depend on.  The book is full of Bernie Sanders-es railing about how the rich don’t pay their fair share, and Musk-hating Tesla-vandalizer types – and the villains totally agree with so many in the “resistance” now.  They’re all convinced that beggars have the absolute moral right to be choosers.    

I’m seeing this phenomenon on many foreign policy fronts, now that we’re learning how much foreign aid we’ve been indiscriminatingly showering on the rest of the world.  Apparently we’ve had a non-stop convoy of C-130 flights going 24-7, shoving giant pallets of cash out the rear cargo hold at 15-minute intervals, all over the world.

And yet the Europeans want to lecture us that we’re not paying enough for the UN, and NATO, and the “March of AK-47s” program to provide Russian small arms to jihadi toddlers in Gaza.  (It’s like the March of Dimes, except that instead of collecting dimes, we’re disbursing rifles.) 

Then, when Trump suggested that we might be shutting down the money flow to Ukraine, many Europeans lost it.  In an earlier column, I referred to the six- or seven-nation poll showing that around 70% of Europeans want Zelensky to get a lot more support… but only around 20% of them want to give him any of that themselves.

Strange.  Putin is an ocean away from us, but right on their doorstep, and they are very adamant that WE do whatever it takes to keep him within his own borders.   

Meanwhile, on the other side of the globe, Australian universities are freaking out after the Trump administration sent them a questionnaire asking whether they’ve got ties to commie or socialist parties, receive funding from China, or recognize genders other than the two real ones.  The wrong answers could potentially jeopardize $386 million US dollars (over a third of what Australia spends on research each year) in research grants.

The Aussie profs have their lab coats over their heads, demanding an “emergency meeting” with their Prime Minister about this.  One of them was “astounded” at the questions, saying that, “if this was any other country, it verges on foreign interference.”

Good lord!  Am I going to have to break out my Sam Kinison filter to explain to that dolt how she could avoid such pesky “foreign interference?”  (“Hey sweetie, you know what you might think about doing?  PAYING FOR YOUR OWN FREAKING RESEARCH! OH!! OHHHHH!!!!!”)

Seriously, why are we paying for Aussie scientists to do research?  Australia is a first-world, Anglophone nation.  They’re not some struggling sub-Saharan country desperately battling a snake-borne diptheria strain (which Fauci probably paid to create in a crumbling lab in Mombasa) that is the leading cause of death among their citizens!

Also, are American scientists broken?  If not, and if expensive research is worth doing, why don’t we do that here at home? 

And it’s not just foreigners who are stamping their feet in their clunky foreign shoes, and cussing us out in their comically non-English languages.  Lots of Americans are also threatening to hold their breath and give us the silent treatment if we don’t pony up the dough they’re used to getting.

Some of them are government workers in the crucial fields of grievance mongering, racial and gender bean-counting, and maintaining a minimal pulse rate while “working” from home.  And some of them are actually doing legitimate work that we can’t afford anymore, now that we’re the brokest nation in the history of nations.  

Woke universities are similarly out of sorts.  They’ve been happily demonizing and excluding conservatives from their programs and campuses, and rhetorically (and for all I know, literally) fellating terrorist supporters and their cosplaying allies, while gorging themselves on grant money provided by the (despised) conservative majority in the country. 

But when Trump said that the federal money flow will stop if they don’t change their ways, they became outraged, and then terrified.  Just like the sanctuary state and city governors and mayors, when they found out that they’re going to have to face the natural consequences of their arrogant defiance of our immigration laws.   

The purest distillation of this attitude appeared in the story of Trump’s proposed changes to the SNAP (i.e. food stamps) program.  The GOP is proposing a bill to ban the use of SNAP benefits to buy junk food and sodas, and the people who rely on you and me to buy their food are not happy about it. 

In a sane world, this wouldn’t require any debate.  We know that the leading health problems among poor Americans – and many non-poor Americans! – are caused by unhealthy diet and obesity, and that taxpayers are already paying exorbitant costs for welfare recipients’ health care.   So who could possibly argue that we need to buy junk food for the poor?

Big junk food companies, beggars who are surprisingly picky eaters, and the Democrats who need the sick-and-fat vote, that’s who! 

A couple of their arguments are transparent dodges.  They say it will be very hard to alter how the SNAP program works in this way.  They also say that nobody can really define “junk food,” because hey man, one person’s junk food is another person’s healthy snack, isn’t it?

Nope. This argument is even easier to debunk than its older counterpart, “How do you define pornography?”  Because you know both when you see them. 

Show any reasonably intelligent adult Stormy Daniels in a g-string, washing down a plate of chocolate chip cookies with a Mountain Dew, and he’ll point and say, “Why is that porn star gorging herself on that junk food?”

But their other arguments are even worse.  They say that the proposed bill limits personal choice, and infringes on the freedom to eat whatever you want.  Which would be true, if you were paying for the food yourself.   

But since you’re not paying for the food yourself, you should get the same offer my dad gave me when I was a kid and looking at a plate of meatloaf (again!) that he bought with his Northern Illinois Gas Company salary:  “You’ve got two choices: take it, or leave it.”

They’re also worried that, and I quote, “The bill could stigmatize SNAP recipients, making them feel judged or shamed for their food choices.” 

Hey kids, you know what else will make you feel shamed and stigmatized?  Walking around looking like J.B. Pritzker, (D)irigible – IL, unable to feel your feet (which you also can’t see), and wondering if that means that the diabetes is almost to the point where the amputations will need to start.

So get yourself off the Mountain Dew, AND the government teat.

You’ll feel better.  And we will too.  

Hamas delenda est!

Whiny Hunger Strikers, & Hillary’s Play Bombs (posted 5/13/24)

By the time you read this, I will be flying to Massachusetts with my wife and youngest daughter, to spend the better part of a week sightseeing with my oldest and her husband, culminating in watching her receive her Masters in nursing at Amherst.  This will likely mean a cold and Simpson-less Friday (i.e. no column that day), but I trust that you all will soldier on.

In the meantime, there are too many things for me to talk about, so I’ll do the best I can.

First, I love me a good hunger strike.  In fact, I have been known to participate in a few of my own.  When I was ages three through about six, for example, I regularly conducted hunger strikes.

Most often on meatloaf night. 

I would begin by advancing my argument, which ran something like this: “C’mon, meatloaf again?  This has to violate the Geneva Conventions!  You can’t even tell me what kind of ‘meat’ this is.  It’s literally a loaf of undifferentiated meat!” (I had a precocious vocabulary at age 3.)

My dad would respond with tales about being born in the depression, and being offered rock soup with a dandelion salad, and all of it sprinkled with coal dust from the mines where grandpa worked 18 hours a day.  And all 8 Simpson kids were glad to have it, and would sometimes even fight over who could have a second bowl of rock soup. 

I would propose a compromise wherein I would give the dog my meatloaf, and I would have a bowl of Captain Crunch. 

Eventually, dad would arrive at his final offer.  “There are two choices for supper tonight: take it, or leave it.” 

Check and mate.

Fast forward to now, and students at Princeton are less mature than I was at 3. Thus the young hunger-striking woman who is now being roundly mocked for her dramatic reading – from text on her phone – of her complaint:

“This is absolutely unfair.  My peers and I, we are starving.” [Sweetheart, it’s a HUNGER strike.  Are you really complaining about being hungry during your self-imposed hunger strike?!]  “We are physically exhausted, I am quite literally shaking right now, as you can see.”

Have you ever seen video of the police interrogating a sociopath after a horrific crime?  The sociopath will often pretend to cry, looking down, covering her eyes, asking for a tissue, and using it to wipe away non-existent tears?

This was like that.  And you know how I also know that her supposed shaking wasn’t genuine?

Because SHE READ IT OFF A PRE-WRITTEN SCRIPT ON HER PHONE!  OH!  OHHHHHH!  (That’s right, I slipped a little Sam Kinison in on you.) 

The only way her bad acting could have been more transparent would be if she were to “pull a Biden,” i.e. inadvertently read her stage directions aloud: “I’m literally shaking, as you can see.  Shake now.  Pause.  Continue reading.”

Next, she actually said these lines: “We are both cold and hot at the same time.  We are all immuno-compromised.”

Yes, if by “immuno-compromised” you mean “riddled with STDs and a severe case of narcissistic personality disorder.”   

And “hot and cold at the same time?”  That’s not a thing.  I mean, if you’re kicking heroin cold turkey, you might have alternating chills and fever.  But not at the same time.  And not because you skipped a few meals.

By the way, did you see those “hunger strikers?”  Some of them would tip the scale in the gray area between Whoopi Goldberg and Lizzo, so I don’t think going on a diet of water and (I’m guessing) surreptitiously gobbled protein bars is going to be life-threatening for them.

The moral of the story?  When I was three, stomping off to bed without eating meatloaf never forced my parents to bring a big bag of Fritos and a bowl of chocolate ice cream to my room.   

And a bunch of crybully Ivy League brats pretending to dab at fake tears with their keffiyehs ($29.99 at Amazon, made in China) and faux-fainting is not going to result in the murder of all the Jews in Israel.  Sorry kids.   

Hilarious hunger striking aside, the weekend was full of widespread interruptions of graduations.   Some ceremonies were cancelled entirely; others were disrupted by stupid chanting and walk-outs.  Jerry Seinfeld was the graduation speaker at Duke, and that event was interrupted by a bunch of selfish jerks getting up and chanting and waving a “Palestinian” flag as they marched out.

Because I’m a cautious optimist, I can see two very silver linings on this pro-terrorist cloud:

1. The shenanigans are mostly affecting leftist colleges with leftist administrations in leftist-run towns, which means that the majority of the inconvenience and disruption is being suffered by those who tolerate and even support it.  So they can suck it, Trebek.

2. The antics of these morons – wrapping a George Washington statue in terrorist headgear, blocking traffic, burning American flags, violating various vandalism, harassment and trespassing laws – are infuriating to normal people.  They’re making more people hate them every day, and they’re creating a widening rift within the Democrat party. 

So keep it up, numbskulls!  If we can’t have you dispersed, chased and charred by a pack of flamethrower robot dogs – and tragically, we apparently cannot – the second-best outcome is for you to identify yourselves to the rest of us, and build a huge backlash against your political goals.

(By the way, I was hoping to put my new flamethrower in a checked bag for the trip to MA, but my killjoy wife nixed the idea.  So if some Hamas-lovers disrupt my daughter’s graduation and are allowed to escape burn-free, she’s going to hear a lot of, “I told you so” next weekend!)  

In other news, Hillary Clinton has produced a Broadway play called, “Suffs.”  It is nearly three hours long, and tells the story of the women’s suffrage movement a century ago.  It also features an “entirely female and non-binary cast,” including a gal who plays President Woodrow Wilson.

And it is bombing.

UNEXPECTEDLY! 

The show’s promotional material notes that “Suffs boldly explores the victories and failures of a struggle for equality that’s far from over.” 

Um, the suffrage movement was about getting women the right to vote.  They won that in 1920, which my abacus tells me is more than a century ago.  So no, the “struggle” is not “far from over.” 

Judging by the box office, neither is Suffs.  In fact, I’d guess that it’s very close to over.

By the way, as I was about to post this column, I saw an update on the Princeton hunger strike, which I swear I am not making up.

The day after the “literally shaking” gal gave her brave speech from the edge of the grave, the original 13 hunger strikers ended their strike.  Because they were very hungry.  Unexpectedly!

But never fear, because as their nightmarish bout of peckishness ended (just in time!) seven new strikers took up the cause.  Or, as their press statement describes it, “In the tradition of rotary hunger strikes, 7 new strikers are indefinitely fasting for a free Palestine.” 

Is that not brilliant?  A “rotary hunger strike!”  It’s like hunger striking, but then when your stomach starts growling, you pass the baton to another Jew hater who is willing to skip brunch. 

Only instead of a baton, it’s a footlong sub sandwich.  Which you then mow through like a woodchipper, because you haven’t eaten in several hours. 

Which gives me an idea.  I propose that all of us in CO nation begin a rotary hunger strike, and we keep it up until all of our demands are met.  Or at least our first three demands: 

1. All student pro-Hamas protestors be arrested and expelled.

2. All non-student pro-Hamas protestors be arrested and deported to Gaza, even if they are American citizens.

3. The $80 billion appropriated to hire more IRS agents be redirected to the manufacture and purchase of a giant army of flamethrower robot dogs, half of which are to be immediately sent to American college campuses, and the other half to the southern border.

If we all sign up to skip just one meal, we can keep this rotary hunger strike going on definitely!  Who’s with me?

I’ll go first.  I hereby volunteer to skip supper on Meatloaf Mondays.

Hamas delenda est!

A New Category for my Columns: Jerk of the Month (posted 3/20/24)

First, let me thank everyone for the congratulations on our anniversary; you all are too kind.

As I mentioned on Monday, I’ve got a new category that will be featured in many future columns.  I’m calling it “Jerk of the Month.” 

I was going to call it “Jackass of the Month,” but upon reflection, the jackass is a useful animal, and one that has been put through enough degradation already, having been hijacked by Democrats as their party mascot. 

I pictured some poor jackass in a barnyard, being harassed by the other animals:

Cow: Hey Jerry, is it true that Anthony Weiner, AOC and Adam Schiff are all your guys?

Jerry (the jackass, shaking his head wearily): I’ve told you a hundred times, I’m not one of them.  They just picked me as their mascot.

Pig (oink-chuckling): Sure they did.

Jerry (to the pig): Hey Randy, aren’t Joy Behar and Whoopi Goldberg two of yours?

Pig (looking offended):  That’s just mean!

Jerry: Meaner than associating me with Imhotep Pelosi, or Adam Schiff?

Clydesdale horse: Take it easy, Jerry.

Jerry: And what about you?  Hillary Clinton is one of yours, right?

Clydesdale: Whoa, whoa.  Just because she’s got our ankles doesn’t make her a Clydesdale! 

Jerry (to a nearby chicken): What are you looking at, General Tso?  Eric Swalwell is one of yours!

Chicken:  Fang Fang is one of mine.  We’ve got nothing to do with Swalwell.  That guy smells worse than Randy.

Pig: Hey!

Jerry:  See how that feels?  (noticing a white Jeep Cherokee parked in front of the barn)  And what about you?  Would you like it if I insinuated that you’re related to Elizabeth Warren?

Jeep Cherokee:  That’s not funny! You can see that I’m white, Jerry. 

Jerry (narrowing his eyes): Exactly.  #wemustneverstopmockingher

And, scene.

Where was I?

Oh yes.  My first nominee for Jerk of the Month is a Palestinian Canadian – I picture a guy screaming, “Death to the infidel, eh?” – named Ahmed Kouta. 

He got a nursing degree in Gaza, and he made his latest trip there from Canada not long before the Hamas attack on Israel; now he’s apparently stuck there.  He’s got around 250K followers on Instagram, where he calls himself “Prince Kouta.”

He’s not a strong candidate for Jerk of the Month because he calls himself a prince – though if there were a competition for “douche of the month,” calling yourself “prince” would likely get you on the medal stand – but because of a video he put out on March 17th.  While the video is only 2 minutes long, it contains a weapons-grade blend of arrogance, bad faith and whining.

Elsewhere in his social media Ahmed has been wailing about how the innocent, sainted “Palestinians” are starving to death, all because of the evil Jooooosss.

But this video is basically an unboxing video of a MRE – “meal ready to eat” – that the USA has been air dropping for the citizens of Gaza.  He shows his audience the contents of the MRE, one at a time.

“Martin, does he get excited, and express his thanks to the American people for giving his people this life-sustaining aid?” you are not asking, because you know that he wouldn’t be a candidate for jerk of the month if he did that.

He starts by saying that the MREs have been airdropped to Gazans courtesy of the American defense department.  “This is the airdrop they drop on us… and then all the airstrikes that they also hit us with.”  

Already I wish the MRE had hit him on the head.

He pulls out one packet and shows it to the camera; it’s crackers.  Then a packet of applesauce.  Then gum. Then something that he looks at, and tosses aside, saying, “I don’t know.  We don’t see this here.” (That bag was actually a heater; the user adds water, which creates a chemical reaction to produce heat.)  Next is an energy bar, and “French vanilla,” (?) then cashews, then peanut butter.

Then the video cuts to a little later, after he’s opened and tried each of the packets in the MRE.  And he says, “Overall, it’s one of the worst meals I’ve ever had.  I literally ate a piece of everything, because… imagine I’m fasting all day, hungry, haven’t eaten anything, and then I came to eat this… nothing.  Only the peanut butter tastes like our Canadian peanut butter.”

“Everything else?  This whole meal is like a 2 out of 10. Not even a 1 out of 10, actually.  This is torturing us more than it’s being ate.”

My first thought was that someone should treat him to a little waterboarding, followed by hooking up part of his anatomy to a car battery, followed by playing Dylan Mulvaney’s music video for him on a loop.  (Don’t look it up, CO nation!) 

And then he could be asked to complete a survey asking him to rate those tortures, as compared to the “torture” of being given free food.   

Ugh.  MREs are routinely given to our soldiers in the field.  (By the way, the life of any one of them is worth more than the collective lives of every malicious anti-Semite in your entire social network, Princess!)  They are designed to not spoil or rot, and to provide life-sustaining nutrition in challenging environments. 

I’ll grant that a MRE doesn’t sound like a gourmet meal to me, and I probably wouldn’t choose to eat it, if I had a lot of other options.

On the other hand, I do have a lot of other options.  Because I’m not a hateful little b*tch who supported a bunch of terrorist scum who gang-raped and slaughtered a lot of defenseless civilians, bringing down a righteous drum of karmic whup-ass on me and my vile co-religionists, which means that I’ll never have to rely on my innocent victims to feed my sorry, unrepentant arse.

So I’ve got that going for me.

As one commenter on the video said, “If you’re rating humanitarian aid on a scale of 1 to 10, you don’t need humanitarian aid.”

Yep.   

Another commenter pointed out that Kouta only showed the snacks that come with the MRE that he held up; the main course was “vegetable crumbles with pasta in taco style sauce.” 

Which means that in addition to being an obnoxious ingrate, Kouta is also either a liar, or else someone stole the main course out of his MRE before it got to him.  Now who could have done that, I wonder?

Well, Kouta accidentally gave us a clue in the middle of his moan-fest.  When he first displayed the MRE, he said, “It comes for free, but in the end we still have to buy it.” 

That’s right.  The American taxpayers provide you with free food, and then the noble jihadis in Hamas steal that food, and extort you into paying them for it.  But the Americans and the Jews are the bad guys?

Got it.     

On behalf of the American people, I apologize, Ahmed.  We’re going to get our best chefs right on the task of providing you with the kind of delicacies that your sophisticated palate demands.

In the meantime, might I suggest that there is an alternative source of protein in Gaza for you right now?  We call it “terrorist crumbles with diced shrapnel in taco style sauce.”  Don’t think of it as cannibalizing the corpses of Hamas fighters, think of it as “consuming a Canadian-peanut-butter-esque substance.”

And if some of the servings you can scrounge might have gone bad after a little too much time in the sun, don’t worry, because the IDF is preparing some more for you right now.

Bon appetit, Ahmed, and congratulations on your nomination for Jerk of the Month!

Hamas delenda est!