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So as the days and nights since the marathon bombings have worn on, I’ve thought more and more about hudna, the strategic truce employed by the jihad in order to regroup and lull the enemy into complacency. In the age of political correctness, it is so easy to deny reality. And in the age of the 24 hour news cycle, it is easy to forget what happened 2 days ago.

Truth is often uncomfortable.

I pray this is not the beginning of something larger and more sustained than we’ve ever seen, for I’m not sure I trust the West as a whole to face a threat like that dealt with daily by the Israelis. We are soft and spoiled, and tend to give up easily.

In the local news, an “expert” was claiming that the marathon bombers were nothing more than the “Dylan Klebolds” of Chechnya, and not actual terrorists. On KFI, the LA station we get down here in San Diego, the late night hosts were coming to the conclusion that the youngest bomber was nothing but a follower trying to impress his big brother, and should maybe be looked at in a more lenient light. Or something.

Do we have so much invested in the fantasy of the end of Islamist terrorism that we will so readily dismiss reality? Our stupidity will get us killed. We will “coexist” all the way to the grave. Our society, already decaying, is ripe for collapse if we refuse to look at all the options, even the politically incorrect ones.

I wish I were tired, but I am not at the moment. So I’ll just lay here, waiting. For what? The end?

Maybe.

First of all, wtf people? My previous post was rife with typos. You had almost a month to mock me for them, you know.

Secondly, if you believe your government is capable of 9/11 and Boston, why the hell are you still here? Don’t get me wrong; governments are awful things, but if ours is killing its own to push political agendas, we’ve got to end it. That’s armed revolt time, not time to smoke a bowl and watch the Daily Show. Our decline is steep, but we have not reached that point yet.

Not yet.

Though we don’t know who is responsible as of yet, ask Israel how it feels to have carnage visit even the most mundane of activities on a regular basis. Everything is a target, and we will never be able to lock down a country of this size. We may very well be looking at our future.

None of which eases the pain, shock and horror being experienced by those at the marathon. Martin Richard, the same age as my child, waiting for his dad at the finish line, was doing nothing to merit the fate meted out to him by unknown actors. His sister lost her leg. His mother has undergone brain surgery and his father is left to pick up the pieces. Martin’s has been the most visible face, but we’re all victims. Not because we may be inconvenienced by increased “security” measures, but because as death becomes more commonplace in our daily lives, we lose parts of ourselves and become more like shell-shocked survivors of an endless war.

So let’s find the bastards responsible for this and string ‘em up. And let’s string up ever subsequent piece of excrement that decides that their mission is to arbitrarily end the lives of innocents. No public trials for enemy combatants, and if you want to make this country your battlefield, bring it.

Of course, I’m not optimistic that our country has the stomach to endure a prolonged confrontation on our soil, (not that I want it!). If it inhibits their watching of Dancing With the Stars — I know I pick on DWTS incessantly, but it’s so damn stupid — then it is nothing but an inconvenience.

En masse, Americans disappoint me. Fortunately, life has prepared me for disappointment.

I have exactly no time for pundits — conservative or otherwise — talking popular culture today. What with Rush misinterpreting Beyoncé and Hannity talking Honey Boo Boo,  I feel fit to stroke out. I know, I know — Rush maintains that he was merely repeating a misinterpretation of Beyoncé’s stupid new song as part of his “low information voter outreach” or whatever, but it was so incredibly stupid and annoying, I turned the radio off. I listen to Rush almost everyday, and as much sentimental affinity as I have for him, his pop culture commentary is like listening to your dad attempting to remain culturally relevant. I don’t have to do that, because my dad isn’t worried about appearing “cool,” but you know what I mean.

Why do we do this to ourselves? The only pop culture commentary I can handle from right or left is Mark Steyn’s, and do you know what his secret is? He wears sous and pocket squares and spontaneously breaks or into show tunes and doesn’t give a f*ck if you think he’s cool. But he’s relevant because he pays attention to the undercurrents of culture, not the surface trappings. He knows what it all means without getting bogged down in the pointless particulars. And I’m not trying to turn this into some Steyn asskissing festival, because that ship has sailed; I’m just trying to put into words that nebulous knack for getting pop culture commentary right. Remaining “relevant” isn’t the goal. Interpreting the smoke signals should be.

Now, Rush doesn’t seem to think he’s trying to remain relevant, and perhaps everyone is reading it wrong. I’m not even concerned worth that. It’s the overarching belief on the right in general that we can somehow regain pop culture when we never entered the fight. Winning the culture war was never about making concessions to relativism, it was about standing diem against it, while still exhibiting grace and acceptance, something neither show has done. Multiculturalism and moral relativism are two of the most intolerant, intellectually lazy and oppressive mindsets foisted onto Western culture as a whole. And we have done nothing on the right to counter that. And now that it seems apparent that we have lost the culture war, the right scrambles to water down the core message of conservatism or make fart jokes and talk about Beyoncé, who seems to be a little worried about remaining relevant herself.

It’s not a younger tone or fave we need. Honestly, I’m not sure what we need. I’m of the mind that we have lost, and that we should attempt to make our decline as uncomfortable as possible for its architects. I know that’s an awful place to be, but what hope can you have in a country that elected Obama twice? I mean, Carter only got one term. I think that by opting or of the culture war, conservatism allowed this country to become a place where 35 year olds are still in college, living off the government, having kids occasionally and patting themselves on the back for being so much more tolerant than those racist, homophobic, sexist, anti-intellectual flat earthers on the right. Sadly — almost comically, really — my peers can’t see that they are but the latest standard bearers for a centuries-old philosophy that has brought nothing but death and decline everywhere it has been implemented.

But we — conservatives — gave up on entertainment, art, music, and literature, abandoning the things that historically shape culture without much of a fight. And then we complain about it and offer up feeble,  “Christian rock” caliber alternatives when it becomes apparent that the game is lost.

You don’t regain that kind of ground by “articulating your message” more clearly. We’ve got 40 or 50 years of decline, of the  infantilization of successive generations of potential adults to deal with. Telling them that they’re going to have to start paying for their own condoms and taking responsibility for themselves isn’t going to cut it.

Do you know what to do? Yeah, me either. I’m just planning on holding the architects accountable and making this decline as uncomfortable as possible. That’s really all I know how to do.

Writers are terrifically competitive and narcissistic creatures. Don’t ever mistake mutual admiration for friendship. I made that mistake once and won’t do it again. No hard feelings; I’m a writer too.

I don’t know about the wisdom in marketing a dentist with the claim that, “if it can be done in your mouth, [doctor's name] can do it and has been doing it for the last 25 years.” When I listen to this commercial, I don’t want to go to that dentist. I want to go to TJ’s dental corridor before I go to that guy. I don’t really want him doing anything in my mouth.

So I’m listening to AM radio, obviously. I don’t like this guy I’m listening to, but he annoys me the least of the programming that’s on at this time. The topic is CPAC, of course, and however much this guy annoys me, I’m down with his anti-Jeb Bush rant.

All these talking heads are saying what I’ve been saying for a long time now, which is not to build myself up into something I’m not, but to do a print version of the “I told you so” dance. The GOP establishment has conceded the argument to the Left for so long, and so completely, I’m not sure they can accept that Republicans outside of the Beltway are anything but inbred rubes that believe the earth is flat and Obama is the antichrist. They accepted the Left’s caricature because people like Jeb and apparently the editorial staff of National Review have believed it all along. How can you expect NRO to think differently when you need to have a college degree to be a receptionist? A degree means you’re smart, correct? There’s no way anyone could know how to answer phones or take messages or organize office supplies without their Art History degree. (I am referring to a job paying the HQ had posted a few years ago. Apparently, people like me who ain’t got no money cain’t be trusted with them fancy phones off theirs. Or near the talent.)

I again reiterate my disgust with any and all “establishments,” those lazy, decadent, self-important boobs that seem to cropup at the end of a civilization. I’m not anti-intellectual, I’m anti-establishment. I’m anti-reductionist however subtle my betters think they are being.

But ultimately, I’m against wasting my time spring into the void, which is essentially what I am doing at this point.

Forgive me for not paying attention to CPAC; I’m so burnt out on politics in general, I decided not to give a crap about a conservative PAC that invited Donald Trump to be a keynote speaker. I hadn’t realized, however, that GOProud was not invited. I don’t know why this surprises me, but it does. I’m sorry, but I’m more concerned about the thousands of illegal alien felons released by Barry in order to make us all pay for the sequester he proposed than the fact that some conservatives are gay and want to talk about it at a conservative event. Honestly, from the GOProud people I’ve talked to, it’s not about being gay and conservative, it’s about being conservative and not hiding that one is gay. I think there’s a big difference between the two.

Now, I’ve got no feelings one way or the other about Chris Christie. I don’t really care about Chris Christie, but if the organizers thinks Donald Trump is CPAC material, Chris Christie sure as hell is. I think the snub is petty and stupid, but people this deeply involved in politics are petty and stupid as a rule. The GOProud snub bothers me on a much deeper level. I’ve got gay friends that are terrified to go to church, even though they really want to — not because they’re afraid that God will smite them or that they won’t “be able” to be gay anymore, but because they can’t handle being rejected one more time by people they actually have a lot in common with. I see the same kind of thing with gay conservatives and the GOP proper. But these kids at GOProud, they’re just going for it, pushing in where they aren’t “wanted” because they share the same political values as the rest of us “normals.” (Come on, you know full well you aren’t normal. Ain’t no body normal.) I’d much rather have a true constitutional conservative who happens to be gay on my side than Donald Trump. Or John McCain, for that matter.

Liberals treat people like stereotypes; we shouldn’t do the same. You don’t have to like homosexuality or gay marriage to be decent to a conservative who happens to be gay. Because, regardless of what you may hear, gay conservatives are not part of some big gay conspiracy to pervert us, the last bastions of normalcy or something.

Whatever. Don’t take any of this to mean that I’m some relativist RINO squish like the NRO kids have turned out to be. (Jeb Bush? Really?) I just don’t think that anyone should be excluded from the conservative movement based on something as private as sexual orientation.

I love how we’re all victims of fatness now. I saw in the news that there was a study done to find out why lesbians are disproportionately “afflicted” by the “obesity epidemic” while gay males are disproportionately unafflicted. First of all, why does it matter? And secondly, the way the social engineers modify our popular vernacular is eerie.

How can being fat be an epidemic? It isn’t a disease. It isn’t contagious. We can’t be the victims of everything.

Honestly, our culture is wearing me out. There are so many, many things wrong with everything that I can’t possibly be expected to run my house and the critters in it and catalog the malignant and tragic absurdity that is this modern life at the same time. But I want to. And that is my great sorrow and burden.

This entire stupid world will be the death of me.

That Rand Paul kid is pretty awesome, ain’t he?

John McCain and long term partner Lindsay Graham are being predictably combative and dismissive of the concerns of normal, thoughtful people, which should come as no surprise to Arizonans. We — I consider myself a dual citizen — have been telling the country for years that John McCain is a crotchety old bastard who had no business calling himself anything but a career politician.

Rand Paul’s concern is justified. We’ve all heard the audio of Holder refusing to address the Constitutionality of targeted drone strikes on American citizens on American soil. What should have been answered easily became something more sinister. Holder made it weird. And any sane person would ask themselves, “Why?”

What we saw on the Senate floor was someone who still takes civil liberties seriously and is willing to fight for them. Rand Paul had no way of knowing if the backstabbing bitches of the congressional GOP or the largely inattentive American public would support him, but he went ahead anyway. And he wasn’t just reading the phone book, he was speaking passionately about issues that matter to all of us.

I didn’t like his dad, largely for his cruel isolationism and anti-military stance, but while Rand is his father’s son, he is also his own man. I’m impressed.

It’s Bob freaking Woodward, people. I don’t always agree with him, but the man is an icon. He’s old-school journalism — obviously a lib, but without letting that get in the way too much. I respect the hell outta him.

Disrespect him at your own peril.

I can’t. I just can’t.

I will not write about Dorner anymore, because I am disappointing my mother with my cavalier use of profanity. I shouldn’t write about politics and culture for the same reason. This is such a maddening time to be aware. Once you see the tragic absurdity of modern politics and culture, you cannot unsee. Once you become aware of the cyclical nature of civilizational history, you cannot retreat into blissful ignorance. Is it the red pill or the blue pill that puts you back into the matrix? I want that one.

What I will mention instead is the petty, envious nature that lies at the heart of every writer. We’re an untrustworthy, competitive lot and I am not in any way innocent. I am not different. I am not magnanimous. I am an arrogant, narcissistic tart. I am not happy for others who enjoy more success than I do, especially if their writing is inferior to mine, which is pretty much always the case. A writer can trust no one, especially another writer. They will pass your ideas off as their own if they think they can get away with it, giving you lip service and stringing you along the whole time with promises of — well, promises of many sorts.

Not that I am speaking from experience or anything.

Surprisingly, I am less vindictive and angry than I ever thought possible. I can be a bitter, vengeful person, but I understand that I only have myself to blame for trusting people I scarcely know to follow through when I am no longer of any use to them.

But this is totally not about me or any experiences I have had with any semi-professional, semi-famous writers. I am burning no bridges here, which goes against every petty instinct in my writer’s soul. I love to throw the match. You have no idea how much I love it.

What am I talking about? Nothing. I’m just trying to fill space until I can think of something relevant to write about.

I’m sorry it’s been so long; things have been busy to the point of distraction. I suppose that isn’t a very good excuse, but it’s my excuse anyway.

So. Chris Dorner is apparently dead. At least I hope he’s dead. He deserves to be dead, if the claims he made are accurate. A delusional narcissist with a massive victim complex doesn’t disturb me as much as the Twitter following he amassed during his murderous tantrum. What the f*ck is wrong with people? This a**hole apparently called the father of one of his victims to taunt him, telling him he should have protected his daughter better. Where is the honor in that?

Meanwhile, Chris Kyle was laid to rest without so much as the lowering of the flag at the White House. Whitney Houston’s overdose elicited more of a response from the President, which is unsurprising.

Chris Dorner was the progressive movement’s grievance mindset writ large. Here was a man of middling talent and intelligence who believed the world owed him something. He felt wronged and victimized, and therefore justified in destroying the lives of those he believed had wronged him. Life isn’t fair, he said, so I’m going to throw a bloody f*cking tantrum.

Well, life’s not fair. Fortunately, we’ve got a president who claims that it should be. We’ve got an entire societal Establishment that has spent the last 40 years telling us that it should be, and that you’ve got the “right” to expect as much. And when you life treats you unfairly, not only do you have the right to a full-blown tantrum, you also have the right to blame those are “better off.” You have the right to their money, their power and their perceived prestige because they’re the ones holding you back.

If you lie and get caught, like Dorner apparently did, it’s not really your fault, it’s the fault of racism or sexism or classism or elitism or whatever other -ism you decide to claim. You have every right, at that point, to scream and cry and sue and kill and maim because your life didn’t turn out the way you wanted. Never mind that your own actions or lack of ambition or whatever put you there.

It’s always someone else’s fault. Usually someone white or male or rich but more than likely all three of those factors combined.

Which brings me to the Dorner cheering section, the same aping horde of subgeniuses who tagged #winning on every tweet when Charlie Sheen was having his latest drug-fueled meltdown. These people have lost their ability to comprehend reality. To them, Dorner’s crimes were an entertainment, a reality show. Consequences are as remote to these people as critical thinking. If consequences do happen in their lives, they reveal their stunted intelligence by blaming someone — anyone — else. It was the cops, society, your mom, my mom — I was discriminated against because I’m black, brown, female, whatever.

We live in a nation of children. And the Left and its president are more than willing to further infantilize them by indulging their grievance mindset.

Where does it end? Does it end?

It ends in collapse, civilizational and psychological. Hope you’ve got a plan for that.

I just can’t wait for that government healthcare to finally kick in! And you thought it was bad when your private insurance coverage ran out.

Seriously though, what a devoted family. Beauty from a country often defined by the misery of its citizens.

I’ve managed to fall ill again — thank you, third grader who lives in my house — and thus I am now the flu shot for next year. Hopefully, there are a few more strains floating out there for me to become infected with and therefore immune to, and then the CDC can draw my blood for its antiviral properties.

I’ve got my fingers crossed.

There is so much I want to say about the hysteria surrounding these gun bans and bills and whatnot. First of all, a local talk show host is doubling down on the “it’s the drugs, stupid” meme regarding the recent gun violence, crying from the rooftops that the anti-depressants made these shooters do it. To that I say, be careful what you wish for.

Ignoring the very obvious fact that these shooters were on psychiatric drugs because they were actually disturbed, blaming “Big Pharma” (as this guy so lamely puts it – so a decade ago) in lieu of guns is not a winning proposition. Soon, the government will be able to legally peep into your medical files, and if taking drugs becomes suspect, well then, you better pray you don’t have an anxiety disorder or need a little help when there’s a crisis, because you’ll be suspect too.

It’s not that easy. Anti-depressants have been shown to cause unpredictable reactions in adolescents, but beyond that, it’s inconclusive. Anytime you monkey around with the chemicals in your brain, you’ve got to be careful, and it often takes several different tries to get the drug combination right for someone who is severely off-kilter. Certain drugs affect people differently, because our chemistry is unique. I’d much rather have conservatives putting forth a solid, pro-Second Amendment argument than have some hysterical radio jockey spouting off about Big Pharma like he’s just got back from the Occupy WallStreet rally.

Secondly, let’s make sure we’ve got a good, solid understanding of the Constitution before we start arguing with people. Know your Second Amendment before engaging in any argument/debate with anyone. I don’t want to hear any one of you saying things like, “Well, I’ll agree with you on that…” We mustn’t. Why? Because this isn’t about how many bullets it takes to kill a deer, it’s about the fundamental right as put forth by the Framers for the general populace to arm itself. When your sister-in-law squawks “You’re saying that the 2nd Amendment was put in there to make sure we can arm ourselves against tyranny?!” You can look at her and say, “Yes. Simmer down, Lolly, the grown-ups are talking.”

Humans are always coming up with sweet new ways of killing each other, and while a semi-automatic assault rifle sounds super scary, it’s not. Semi-auto means you pull the trigger once and one bullet comes out. And one man’s assault rifle is another man’s legitimate hunting rifle. Are fully auto machine guns legal? Can you buy a bazooka at Sportsman’s Warehouse? I thought not.

Simmer. Down.

This is about taking away your rights, nothing more. You give in on guns, and the rest is easy. This administration is manipulating you, playing on your emotions. Why wouldn’t politicians want you to have guns? Well, why wouldn’t the Crown want the Colonies to be armed? Why didn’t Hitler want his subjects armed. Think these things through to their logical outcome people. I;m not some conspiracy theorist, I’m just a pessimist. I’m cynical and I don’t trust politicians who tell me they’re going to save me from myself.

I’ve read the histories. I know how that goes.

Thirdly, just think for yourselves, people. Learn to take in facts in a somewhat analytical manner. Try to read between the lines. Study history because that is the only thing that will save us. And don’t be afraid to go against the current. We were made individuals; let’s embrace that.

So, I really, really have to do the dishes. They are epic in scope. Unfortunately, I also have actual peace and quiet in my house for the first time in a month, so I need to take advantage of that as well. I’ll hurry, say my piece, and then start on that mountain of dishes in my sink.

This is an heartrendingly beautiful testimonial from the Daily Mail, my guilty reading pleasure. Some may argue that what this woman did was selfish or stupid, but all her child knew was real, honest love in his short time on this earth. It’s quite overwhelming to think of, really — all Lucian knew was love. Can you imagine a life in which all you knew was love? She played the hand she was dealt and loved her child. Love is not always fair or fun or easy, at least real love isn’t. I will never recover from loving and losing my first child before she was three. Real love annihilates, becomes something more than emotion, and while it elevates, it also exposes you to the worst of all terrors: loss.

Lucian could have died at anytime in my womb but he held on long enough for us to meet properly.

‘My son looked utterly perfect.

‘The love and joy I felt the moment they put Lucian in my arms told me it had all been worth it.’

I love the idea that he waited to be born so he could meet her. It’s sweet. Her life is forever changed by someone who had no idea he was changing it. But isn’t that the beauty of children? Children demand nothing but real, unguarded, uncomplicated love from someone they already love more than anything in the world. They’re terrifying, children are, but they’re worth it. Even when the worst possible scenario is realized, and you end up sitting in a house that has ceased to be a home and is altogether too quiet, it is worth it.

It is always worth it.