Scott Adams endorses Donald Trump

Scott Adams demonstrates his courage and his willingness to put his life on the line for America in endorsing Donald Trump for President:

As most of you know, I had been endorsing Hillary Clinton for president, for my personal safety, because I live in California. It isn’t safe to be a Trump supporter where I live. And it’s bad for business too. But recently I switched my endorsement to Trump, and I owe you an explanation. So here it goes.

1. Things I Don’t Know: There are many things I don’t know. For example, I don’t know the best way to defeat ISIS. Neither do you. I don’t know the best way to negotiate trade policies. Neither do you. I don’t know the best tax policy to lift all boats. Neither do you. My opinion on abortion is that men should follow the lead of women on that topic because doing so produces the most credible laws. So on most political topics, I don’t know enough to make a decision. Neither do you, but you probably think you do.

Given the uncertainty about each candidate – at least in my own mind – I have been saying I am not smart enough to know who would be the best president. That neutrality changed when Clinton proposed raising estate taxes. I understand that issue and I view it as robbery by government.

I’ll say more about that, plus some other issues I do understand, below.

2. Confiscation of Property: Clinton proposed a new top Estate Tax of 65% on people with net worth over $500 million. Her website goes to great length to obscure the actual policy details, including the fact that taxes would increase on lower value estates as well. See the total lack of transparency here, where the text simply refers to going back to 2009 rates. It is clear that the intent of the page is to mislead, not inform.

So don’t fall for the claim that Clinton has plenty of policy details on her website. She does, but it is organized to mislead, not to inform. That’s far worse than having no details.

The bottom line is that under Clinton’s plan, estate taxes would be higher for anyone with estates over $5 million(ish). I call this a confiscation tax because income taxes have already been paid on this money. In my case, a dollar I earn today will be taxed at about 50% by various government entities, collectively. With Clinton’s plan, my remaining 50 cents will be taxed again at 50% when I die. So the government would take 75% of my earnings from now on.

Yes, I can do clever things with trusts to avoid estate taxes. But that is just welfare for lawyers. If the impact of the estate tax is nothing but higher fees for my attorney, and hassle for me, that isn’t good news either.

You can argue whether an estate tax is fair or unfair, but fairness is an argument for idiots and children. Fairness isn’t an objective quality of the universe. I oppose the estate tax because I was born to modest means and worked 7-days a week for most of my life to be in my current position. (I’m working today, Sunday, as per usual.) And I don’t want to give 75% of my earnings to the government. (Would you?)

3. Party or Wake: It seems to me that Trump supporters are planning for the world’s biggest party on election night whereas Clinton supporters seem to be preparing for a funeral. I want to be invited to the event that doesn’t involve crying and moving to Canada. (This issue isn’t my biggest reason.)

4. Clinton’s Health: To my untrained eyes and ears, Hillary Clinton doesn’t look sufficiently healthy – mentally or otherwise – to be leading the country. If you disagree, take a look at the now-famous “Why aren’t I 50 points ahead” video clip. Likewise, Bill Clinton seems to be in bad shape too, and Hillary wouldn’t be much use to the country if she is taking care of a dying husband on the side.

5. Pacing and Leading: Trump always takes the extreme position on matters of safety and security for the country, even if those positions are unconstitutional, impractical, evil, or something that the military would refuse to do. Normal people see this as a dangerous situation. Trained persuaders like me see this as something called pacing and leading. Trump “paces” the public – meaning he matches them in their emotional state, and then some. He does that with his extreme responses on immigration, fighting ISIS, stop-and-frisk, etc. Once Trump has established himself as the biggest bad-ass on the topic, he is free to “lead,” which we see him do by softening his deportation stand, limiting his stop-and-frisk comment to Chicago, reversing his first answer on penalties for abortion, and so on. If you are not trained in persuasion, Trump look scary. If you understand pacing and leading, you might see him as the safest candidate who has ever gotten this close to the presidency. That’s how I see him.

So brave. Thank you for this, Scott. Scott Adams is a true American hero.

At best, an economic wash

As John Red Eagle and I demonstrated in Cuckservative, large numbers of immigrants are not good for the economy. Moreover, the biggest econonomic study on the matter to date has concluded that at best, the net economic benefits of immigrants are nonexistent.

Keep in mind that this economics study does not even begin to take into account the cultural destruction that is caused by immigration.
Immigration has been and will continue to be a hot button topic in the 2016 presidential campaign.  Trump has called for a wall along the U.S. southern border with Mexico and a halt to all immigration from certain “countries of concern to national security.”  Meanwhile, Hillary has called for more relaxed immigration policies that would grant illegal immigrants a path to citizenship and a surge in Syrian refugees.

But, no matter where you stand politically on immigration, a group of the nation’s “smartest” professors from the most elite schools in the country recently came together to publish a 500-page study for the “National Academies of Sciences, Engineering and Medicine” on the economic and fiscal impacts of immigration.  After what must have been countless months of research, the report seems to confirm what most people could have derived from applying simple logic, namely that while immigration expands the economy it also negatively impacts the employment of low-skilled native workers and places undue burden on federal and state entitlements like food assistance programs and Medicaid.

The full 500-page immigration study can be reviewed at the end of this post but here are the key takeaways…

First, the study finds that the lower median age of immigrants is a positive offset to the aging U.S. population and serves to enlarge the economy but notes that the key beneficiaries are the immigrants themselves and not the native citizens.

Second, low-skilled immigrants, which represented nearly 50% of the total in 2012, were found to have a higher employment rates than low-skilled natives indicating that U.S. citizens are being displaced at least at the lower bound of the income spectrum.

Finally, first-generation immigrants were found to be more costly for entitlement programs than native-born citizens.

There is NO CASE to make for the net economic benefits of mass immigration, nor can the economic benefits of immigration even begin to compensate for the various societal costs of immigration. The only economic case for immigration is a tautology, which is because the definition of GDP means that GDP will increase with population growth, so any increase in population for any reason, up to and including alien invasion and occupation, will be “economically beneficial” so long as “beneficial” is defined as being “a larger GDP number”.

This is not, in fact, the case. The natives are not better off economically, and they are definitely not better off in any other way.

The Color Run: a story of courage, endurance, and ninjas, part II

One thing I failed to make clear in the first part of my story about surviving the Color Run is that there were over 10,000 people taking part in it. Not only that, but the start was staggered, so that a constant flow of runners were going through the course. That’s why, when I made my way back onto the trail after taking out the spotter for the Singapore hit team, I was immediately caught up in a torrent of runners, their white shirts stained blue from the first color station, who were running considerably faster than I had been previously running myself.

I joined them, but I hadn’t run far when I saw a flash of pink and yellow that was, incongruously, moving against the blue-and-white flow of runners. It was Spacebunny, easy to spot in her bikini-and-tutu lack of attire, and she had come back for me after my failure to arrive at the next color station in a timely manner.

“What happened?” she exclaimed as we met up and stepped off to the side of the trail. “Even you can’t possibly take that long to run two kilometers. I got worried, and when none of the security unicorns I hired said they’d seen you, I ran back to find you.”

“Spotter,” I gasped, being badly out of breath after having run at least another 80 meters. “Singapore!”

“Ah,” she said, understanding instantly. “You’re saying there is a two-man team of corporate assault ninjas from that security company that operates behind the false front of a wealth management division of Deutsche Bank in Singapore, the one that Big Dan used to work for, somewhere on the course up ahead! I assume you took out the spotter. Is that what delayed you?”

I nodded and wished I’d remembered to bring my inhaler, as she’d recommended the night before. I also found myself wondering what the hourly rate for a team of security unicorns might be and how much hiring one was going to cost me. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t impressed with their performance thus far.

“Any idea where they are?”

“Yellow!” I said, plucking at my shirt.

“They’re waiting at the yellow station? Probably right after it. That gives me an idea.” Spacebunny put her hands on her tutu-covered hips and frowned. “Okay, so here’s what we’ll do. You’ll cut through the forest while I run the course. I’ll run ahead and find a bald guy, and get him to put on my tutu before he goes through the yellow station. That will distract the hitters, it will take them a few seconds before they realize it isn’t you, and you can take them out then.”

“Unicorns?”

“No, they’re paid to keep an eye out for you, not take on corporate assault ninjas. You’ll have to do it yourself.”

I couldn’t argue with her logic. But, it occurred to me, there was another problem.

“How are you going to get the guy to put on the tutu?” I had recovered sufficiently to speak in full sentences, if short ones.

She stared at me in sympathy a moment, then made a gesture with both hands as if to say “I am a pretty blonde gym bunny wearing a bikini and I could make the average middle-aged guy rip out his testicles and juggle them for me just by smiling and asking pretty please, so I think I can handle this without any trouble, thank you very much.” Then she slipped out of her tutu, causing numerous heads to whip around, and one young man ran directly into a large oak tree.

“See?” she winked and ran off with her tutu in hand, wearing nothing but her blue bikini. It belatedly occurred to me that I was wearing a tutu at that very moment myself, and at her behest, no less, so any doubts in her ability to convince others to do the same were more than a little ironic, to say nothing of misplaced.

As per the plan, I cut across the forest to the trail on the far side, thankfully cutting at least 1.5 kilometers off my route. It turned out that this side of the course ran along a lake shore, and I had to decide whether the yellow station was to my left or to my right. A glance at the passing runners revealed that their shirts were stained and spotted with yellow to go with the green and the blue, so I slipped back into the trees and quietly made my way to the right, against the flow of the runners.

Soon the yellow station came into view, and there, sure enough, were the pair of corporate ninjas, both standing about five meters into the trees in a position giving them an excellent view of the runners coming out of the yellow station, where volunteers in yellow t-shirts were showering everyone with yellow dust that tasted rather like the interior of a snail shell left out in the sun for weeks from which the snail meat had mostly, but not entirely, rotted.

I waited until I saw the man in the yellow tutu emerging from the clouds of yellow dust and their attention was entirely focused on him, just as Spacebunny intended. I slipped closer, took out a pair of shuriken from my fanny pack, and nailed both of them with two well-practiced flicks of the wrist. As they whirled around, surprise and agony etched upon their faces, I unbuckled my fanny pack, stepped out from behind a tree, and held it up in front of them.

“I have the antidote in here,” I lied. “Tell me who sent you after me and I’ll give it to you.”

To my surprise, the ninja on the left laughed. He wasn’t true Japanese, he was Ainu, and his accent in English gave away his Asahikawa origins.

“Chilean, I think,” he said, as he reached into a pocket and took out a small plastic box, and opened it to reveal 24 styrettes. There were two of each kind, and each pair was marked with a different kanji indicating a poison. “You are too predictable, Day-san. Do you think we did not know about Madrid?”

He injected himself first, then handed a similarly-labeled styrette to his silent companion, who did the same.  In a matter of seconds, they were no longer showing any signs of being poisoned, and upon recovering, they both drew razor-sharp katanas from the matte-black scabbards they were wearing. I pulled my mini-kukri out of the fanny pack, but I have to admit, I didn’t much like my odds. Both ninjas were wearing stab vests with panels that were probably titanium alloy inserts, plus full tactical combat gear down to the elbow pads, while I was protected by nothing but a white t-shirt and a multi-colored tutu. And I was outnumbered.

“John Scalzi sends his regards,” the previously silent one said. Then they attacked, moving as one, with all the grim fury of two ronin avenging their fallen master. I managed to avoid the first two strokes, either of which would have cut me in two, and lashed out with a Flowing River strike that should have disemboweled the Asahikawa man, but the blade bounced right off the stab vest’s belly plate with no more effect than rain falling on a stone.

I whirled around to meet them again, but this time, the quiet one’s do-uchi was a feint, and when I sidestepped the strike that wasn’t there, he adroitly went to the ground, hooked my ankle, and sent me sprawling. My kukri flew from my hand as I fell, leaving me unarmed. The Asahikawa man was on me as quick as a flash; he stood over me with his katana raised, point downward, and I knew that there was nothing I could do to stop him from pinning me to the ground. A single thought flashed through my mind. “Wow, some people are really going to be pissed that I didn’t finish A Sea of Skulls first!”

Then, without warning, the man’s head flew from his body and blood fountained over me as if we were at the red station. The weight of his armored body nearly took my wind away as it collapsed on top of me. With no little effort, I managed to push the fallen ninja’s corpse off me, and scrambled to my feet in time to see a small, slender, bespectacled Japanese man wearing a runner’s outfit standing over the motionless body of the other ninja with a dripping wakizashi in his hand. He looked familiar, somehow, but I could not for the life of me imagine who he was or where I had seen him before.

He turned and raised a finger, as if admonishing me. “Never rely upon the same tactic twice, Mr. Day. Particularly not twice in succession. It makes you far too easy to anticipate.”

Then I realized where it was that I had seen him. Paris. Cernovich. A midnight strike. Four ghazis sprawled lifeless in a cheap hotel room overlooking the Gare du Nord, and a shadow slipping out the window just as we burst in.

More to come….

Taxonomy vs marketing

I’m not sure that many in the Alt-White understand the concept of branding very well despite their concerns on that score. More importantly, they’re either projecting or confusing me with others when they express concerns about my interest in subverting anything, let alone their activities. There is a division of opinion in the Alt-White over everything that is not Alt-White but could, reasonably, be described as Alt-Right. I tend to agree with Michael Bell’s opinion, as he wrote:

While we pursue our goal of fully occupying the helm of the Alt Right, we must recognize that those who are not fully on board with all of our principles can nonetheless be considered a part of the Alt Right provided they aid us in our efforts and do not work to contradict us. Many of these types can eventually be turned into full White Nationalists anyway, as their views are only a few inches away from ours. To quote Lawrence Murray, “The big tent is worth preserving to persevere against our common enemies, for our struggle is revolutionary.”

Notice that key phrase: “our goal of fully occupying the helm of the Alt Right”. It’s just a goal. It’s not a reality, an identity, or anything material, it’s an objective. It’s not an unreasonable objective, especially since their efforts are necessary, though not sufficient, to preserve Western civilization. Greg Johnson himself has freely admitted that most of what the Alt Right actually means predates the NPI sense, he is merely attempting to fill what he calls “a vacuum”, but it cannot be a vacuum because there is a long history of the Alternative Right that has been read out of the conservative movement for generations.

Fashy McQueen represents the view opposed to Michael Bell, and the weakness of his position can be readily seen in the way he presents his case:

“Alt-Right” has become an internationally-recognized brand that only fools would carelessly dilute or abandon. Nazi Shitlords™ know the importance of branding, terminology, and propaganda. They use these weapons every day. And the term “Alt-Right” has become their most powerful weapon in attacking the enemy, and recruiting the masses into White Nationalism at an exponential rate….  The name “Alt-Right” has become the most powerful brand of White Nationalism in over 70 years. And it happened almost by accident. The stars aligned. It may never happen again.

This is the same magical thinking that is used to justify calling crippled people “handicapable” and negroes “blacks”, then “Afro-Americans”, then “African-Americans”.  It is the belief that an object or a concept is intrinsically altered by the label. But if Greg Johnson is correct and Alt Right means literally nothing more than “White Nationalist”, then it will soon be as effective and appealing a brand as “White Nationalist” presently is. The underlying essence is not changed one iota by calling X something else, such as Y, so long as it remains fundamentally X.

This small-tent Alt-White is not only caught in the trap of magical thinking, it genuinely can’t distinguish between friend, ally, and enemy. Also from Fashy’s extended comment:

Vox Day is currently attempting his own subversive version of redefining the Alt-Right to include himself, and to purge the Alt-Right’s staunchly White Nationalist core. These hostile attempts to redefine the term “Alt-Right” must be fought mercilessly — not invited.

First, I will again point out that I am not redefining anything. The Alt-White is, by their own admission, attempting to redefine Alt-Right in order to claim it for themselves and themselves alone. Are they really the only Alternative Right? Are they the only genuine alternative to mainstream conservatism? No, obviously not.

So, how are all those alternative right people, who subscribe many or even most of the 16 Points I have laid out, but are not a full-blown “White Nationalist”, or as I would put it, Alt-White, to be described? What do they call themselves? Even Fashy admits they considerably outnumber his “Alt-Right”, after all. It accomplishes nothing to simply pretend that they don’t exist, as much as the Left would like to do so.

Second, the reality is that whatever those people call themselves WILL become the dominant alternative to the mainstream right, because they ARE the strongest alternative to it. The Alt-White is only a subset of that, a vital subset, to be sure, but a subset nonetheless. Is it better for the Alt-White to be part of the Alt-Right, or is it better for the Alt-Right to be part of this nameless alternative to the mainstream Right? But whether we call it the Alt-Right or the Nameless Broad-Spectrum Alternative, that is the primary alternative.

I suspect the Alt-White has a hard time accepting the observable limits to their subset because they are mostly Americans, and are therefore blind to the fact that the vast majority of white European nationalists are not, and will never be, generic white nationalists. I have repeatedly tried to explain this, on both TRS and the Counter-Currents podcast as well as here on VP, and their only response to date has been that they think they can sense a generic white consciousness beginning to come into being.

And it’s true, they surely can… in the USA where generic whites are under attack for being white and where the Republican Party is in the process of being transformed into the White American Party. That is not the case in Europe, and it will not be the case, because the generic aspect is working in precisely the opposite direction here, as Muslims of many diverse nations are lumped together as generic Muslims and are thereby beginning to form a generic “Euro-Muslim” identity. Moreover, Europeans are hostile to pan-Europeanism in a way that most Americans don’t understand due to the egregious, anti-democratic excesses of the European Union. The British people just voted to get out of the European Union, so it should be readily apparent that they’re not even remotely inclined to sign up for generic white pan-nationalism.

In any event, it should be obvious that I am not even remotely hostile to white nationalism nor do I have any intention of subverting it for any purpose, let alone a nefarious one. I am not at all concerned about being excluded from anything; as longtime readers here know, I really don’t go in for joining things as a general rule but prefer to do my own thing. Fortunately, the big-tent branch seems to more or less grasp this, as Bell writes of his Fourth Tier of the Alt-Right

Beneath this caste I would place the people who work to combat the professional and intellectual thuggery of the Social Justice Warriors and very particular Leftist narratives, but who don’t have any kind of overarching pro-White, pro-Western, or anti-Semitic ideology driving it. Author and video-game designer Vox Day goes here. In fact, I would elect him the leader of this caste if such a thing existed. He was an outspoken supporter of Gamergate and organized the Rabid Puppies movement, which at its core sought to diminish the influence of Left-minded authors like George R. R. Martin over the science-fiction Hugo Awards. Rather than giving awards to books about transexual vampires fighting against homophobic dragons, Day and his followers felt that the science fiction community should once again seek to emulate luminaries like J. R. R. Tolkien and Frank Herbert, who were essentially pro-Western and Right-wing in their thought. His book SJWs Always Lie is a must read for every member of the Alt Right. Of course, he is only part-white and does not explicitly push a pro-white or pro-Western agenda (though he comes close.)

Regardless of whether one’s interest is taxonomic or marketing, it is worthwhile to discuss these matters with those who don’t share one’s opinion, which is why I have invited Greg Johnson to appear on a public Brainstorm to discuss Alt-Right, Alt-White, and Alt-Lite, and to present his own perspective on the subject.

NFL Week Three

This is the weekly NFL open thread. Skol Vikes!

Although I’m unhappy about AD being out for the season, I’m confident that Asiata and McKinnon can pick up where they left off two years ago. Especially with Bradford at quarterback instead of Cassel.

Which Cernovich book should you read first?

Mike Cernovich considers the question: which book should you read first? Gorilla Mindset or Danger & Play?

A lot of people ask me whether they should read Gorilla Mindset or Danger & Play: Mike Cernovich’s Guide to Life first. It’s a complicated question, so here’s the short answer:

  • If you are over 18 and enjoy edgier content, read Danger & Play first.
  • If you’re under 18 or want a more accessible, helpful version of me, then read Gorilla Mindset first.

Every man, woman, and child can benefit from Gorilla Mindset. Danger  Play is for dominant adult men and the women who want to understand their mindset. Gorilla Mindset is my general interest book.

Women read Gorilla Mindset. Aggressive alpha men read Gorilla Mindset. Teenagers read it. You could bring Gorilla Mindset to church. There’s zero politics in it. You wouldn’t know which political candidate I support.

Danger & Play is my edgier, aggressive book.

Long-time blog readers prefer Danger & Play to Gorilla Mindset. That doesn’t mean one book is better than the other. As Vox Day observed in his review of Danger & Play:


It’s not a book you would necessarily want to give to a young man under the age of 18. The saltiness and worldliness of the book is not inappropriate, nor is it particularly offensive by modern standards, but it does tend to preclude giving it to teenagers or putting it in your local school library. I didn’t hesitate to have my son read Gorilla Mindset, I would probably wait until he was 18 or 19 to have him read Danger & Play: Essays on Embracing Masculinity.

That’s a fair criticism, and indeed Danger & Play is a niche book.

Actually, it’s not criticism at all. It’s just aimed at a different, more specific, and older market. I would recommend starting with Gorilla Mindset because it is less personal and more practical. It’s advice for your life. Danger & Play, on the other hand, helps you better understand the author of Gorilla Mindset, how he originally derived and developed its lessons, and how he has applied them in his life. In other words, the latter provides a deeper understanding of the former, therefore the former should be read first.

The Color Run: a story of courage, endurance, and ninjas, part I

I’ll admit, I was concerned about taking part in the Color Run today. After all, not only was I going to have to run 5k, which is exactly 4.82 kilometers more than I am designed to run, but I was going to have to do so in a tutu, a concept which inspired no small amount of hilarity in the household this week.

To quote one member: “I think it’s a day I’ll always remember… and not in a good way.” So, you know, thanks for that, everyone who donated. It’s a pity we can’t set any of that aside for future psychotherapy.

Moreover, I received a warning that I was quite literally putting my life in danger by taking part in the run, which turned out to be true, although not in exactly the way that the messenger, who turned out to be a lifesaver, imagined. This Good Samaritan had been concerned that either George Soros or the Clintons might take advantage of my readily identifiable outfit and send a sniper; as it turned out, it wasn’t the American political elite that was targeting me today, but an even more remorselessly evil party.

We got up very early, so early that it was pretty much a toss of the coin as to whether I’d just stay up all night or not, and made the drive to Lausanne, Switzerland, where we met our friends with whom we were doing the run. We changed in the parking lot, where it was much appreciated how my multicolored tutu nicely matched the colorful logo of the t-shirts we were provided. It was rather cold, which inspired Spacebunny to deliver an equally colorful soliloquy in appreciation for the generosity of the donors who were the reason she was wearing nothing but a bikini under her tutu.

Which, of course, was not as pretty as mine, as hers was only yellow. I pointed out that she would probably be glad to not be wearing very much in the way of clothing once we started running and the sun rose a bit higher in the sky, an intelligent observation that impressed her to such an extent that she expressed a keen wish to feel my teeth in her flesh, a sentiment that she managed to phrase in an admirably succinct manner. She was also delighted to discover that while there were people wearing everything from unicorn suits to dragon outfits, she was the only runner in a bikini.

As you can see from the picture on the right, I felt very confident in my tutu, and indeed, was inspired to dance. More than a few comments were made on how well it complimented my legs, and several cars even honked at us as we approached the venue.

I had taken the warning to heart, however, and I remained on alert. Moreover, I had prepared by coating four shurikens with Chilean Tree Frog venom and putting them in a concealed fanny pack along with a miniaturized kukri that is my favored weapon for close-in combat. I was glad I had, too, when just over one kilometer into the race, I spotted a shadowy figure moving amidst the trees on the interior of the course. It was pure chance that he caught my eye, because at the time, I was running hard and battling a severe side-cramp and possibly dehydration as well.

Fortunately, at just that moment, I was passed by a small six-year old girl wearing rainbow leggings and kitten ears, as well as an elderly woman who was moving surprisingly fast despite using a walker. Taking advantage of the two of them blocking me from the stalker’s sight, I threw myself to the ground, rolled behind a tree, then low-crawled behind the stalker, who, based on his apparel, was a garden variety corporate ninja. I heard him speaking Japanese on his phone, saying that he’d just lost contact with the target, which told me that he was merely the spotter. I waited to see if I could learn anything more from him, and it soon became apparent that the hit team for whom he was spotting were planning to make their move just after the yellow station at the midway point.

I hit him with a shuriken behind the ear before launching my attack, and although he evaded my Reverse Eagle Strike and came back at me using a modified Tibetan Drunken Monkey style with which I’ve always had trouble, I managed to block both a Spinning Roundhouse Spider-kick and a High-Low Butterfly Jab before the poison took effect. Unfortunately, the venom hit him harder than I’d expected and he collapsed unconscious before I could find out how many hitters there were, or who sent them, but based on the particular modification of his kung-fu, I was fairly certain that it would be a two-man team of hand-to-hand specialists from a Singapore-based “security” company that operates behind the false front of a wealth management division of Deutsche Bank.

So, I retrieved my shurikin from his neck, wiped my fingerprints off it and buried it, feeling a little more secure in the knowledge of where the attack would take place. I thought about taking his phone and using it to set a trap for the hit team, but I realized that my Sagamihara accent would only alert them to the fact that something wasn’t on the up and up. So, I returned to the course, and I have to admit, knowing that the hit team was waiting for me worried me considerably less than the fact that I had nearly four more kilometers to go.

More to come….

When Hillary loses

Democrats are likely to be in trouble, because whites are being eradicated from the party leadership:

The shock for Democrats if Clinton loses will likely be more severe than for Republicans if Trump loses.

One option for Democrats would be to moderate their policies, as the New Democrats urged in the 1980s and Bill Clinton did in the 1990s. After all, that proved pretty successful.

Two decades ago, lots of self-described moderates and even conservatives voted in Democratic primaries. Not so these days. The slump in Democratic primary and caucus turnout, from 38 million in 2008 to 31 million in 2016, was due to a sharp decline in turnout by self-described moderates.

Hillary Clinton’s move from her husband’s 1990s triangulation to her near-total acceptance this year of Bernie Sanders’ left-wing platform was a rational response to changes in the Democratic primary electorate.

One lesson of recent presidential primaries is that Democratic voters are transfixed by identity politics, having elected the first black president and chosen the first female presidential nominee. Another is that there’s a large constituency for left-wing candidates.

What they haven’t been interested in is cisgendered white male liberals. The largely forgotten John Edwards fell by the wayside quickly in 2008, and Martin O’Malley, with credentials similar to those of Bill Clinton and Michael Dukakis, attracted zero support in 2016.

That leaves them with no obvious choices if Clinton loses this year. Their most visible and attractive left-wingers, Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren, will be over 70 in 2020. Prominent black and Hispanic officeholders tend to represent overwhelmingly Democratic constituencies and have made few of the bows to moderation that made Barack Obama a plausible national candidate in 2008.

It’s amusing that everyone is focused on the changes that identity politics will make to the Republicans, when the much more serious change is taking place in the Democratic Party. Just like in local Minnesota politics, where the bigamist Somali woman pushed out the long-serving Jewish representative, there isn’t going to be any more white Democratic leadership.

And that’s when even the most stauch white liberals will start to drift Republicanward.

“Self-righteous Churchian Pharisaism”

Scott Morefield annihilates the feeble anti-Trump arguments of the Republican Party’s Prince of Cucks, Erick Erickson on WND:

Erick doubles down on the insanity as the column devolves into self-righteous Churchian Pharisaism while ultimately rejecting both of the choices God Himself has obviously put before us.

And the logic he uses to do so is horribly, fatally flawed.

Erickson contrasts Clinton’s “tyranny of the minority” with Trump’s “tyranny of the majority” and his “corrupting the virtuous and fostering hatred, racism, and dangerous strains of nationalism.”

Since when, Erick, is putting America and Americans above globalist interests a “dangerous strain of nationalism”?

Trumpism, the movement Trump represents, can essentially be defined as taking our country back from foreign, globalist, corporate and establishment interests by securing our border and limiting immigration, establishing a fair, sensible trade policy that protects American jobs, and limiting foreign interventions overseas, among other things.

What could possibly be wrong with that?

By constantly bringing up the “racist” canard, people like Erickson not only lose credibility – because there is not one single shred of evidence that Donald Trump is a racist – but they insult, like Hillary Clinton did, the millions of Americans who passionately support Trump. It’s tired, old and increasingly ineffective, and yet just like the left, who see a “raaacist” behind every tree, hand-wringers like Erickson continue to deploy it to serve their rhetorical ends.

Further, the attacks on the supposed hypocrisy of prominent Christian theologian Wayne Grudem are beyond the pale, especially given the fact that Grudem made it clear that he did not support Trump in the primaries, just as he didn’t support Giuliani in 2012. However, he most certainly would have supported Giuliani over Obama had he won the primaries, just as he is supporting Trump now, with good reason.

Erickson uses the fact that a fellow parishioner at his church tried to make the argument for Trump based on other flawed men in the Bible God has used, like David, Abraham and Samson, as evidence that Trump has “poisoned” the church from within. He believes that while Clinton will do “long-term damage to the country,” Trump will “do far more damage to the church.”

Ironically, Erickson later writes of the church, “But Christ has already risen, so the true church is in no danger of falling. The gates of hell shall not prevail.”

So, which is it, Erick? If you believe that Christ will protect and keep His church, surely you aren’t worried about a mortal human like Donald Trump wrecking it, are you?

You see, unlike our country, the church IS, at root, a spiritual institution impervious to the machinations of man.

It’s really remarkable what a horrible, and horribly dishonest individual Erick Erickson is. It does not speak well of those Christians who insist on continuing to pay attention to the man and his incessant posturing.