Category Archives: Pop Culture

Memory Lane: ‘Whiplash’

In 1960 something new appeared on America TV: Whiplash, a western, if that’s the right word, set in Australia.

It should’ve been a hit. The star, Peter Graves, had been a success with Fury, a great kids’ show about a boy and his black stallion. Graves would go on to have a huge hit with Mission: Impossible, but at the time, Whiplash didn’t seem to do much for his career. Maybe because the British and Australian co-producers spent a fortune to film the series in Australia, but Graves insisted on filming much of it in a studio once they got there.

Much of the show was written by Gene Roddenberry, who went on to become famous for Star Trek.

You’d think the exotic locale, stories of adventure in the Outback during the Great Australian Gold Rush of the 1850s, and episodes featuring many of Australia’s most successful actors of the era, would have propelled the show to the TV hall of fame. But it only ran for two seasons, 1960-61. Critics are kinder to it now than they were then.

It even had a cool theme song. What’s not to like?

Well, I liked it! I was eleven years old, I’d been a Fury fan for years, and this show made me want to go to Australia and see the kangaroos close up.

I have yet to meet anyone else who remembers it, though.

Piling On!

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I know someone–to spare her further inconvenience, she shall remain nameless–who found her own Facebook page burdened by a message from some leftid who announced, “I’m voting Blue [Democrat/communist] in November!” To which she replied, “Who cares?”–when any reply at all, other than instant agreement, would have been a mistake.

Next thing she knew, her page was flooded with libs, all taking exception to the two words she wrote. It went on all day. I could’ve told her that would happen, but anticipating nothing of the kind, she never asked.

“Conversation,” in lib-speak, consists of as many leftids as can be packed into the room all shouting at the one poor devil who dissented from their opinion and who must now be hammered into silence. They call this “diversity.”

Remember: They’re only 8% of the population! It’s unseemly for 8% to bully 92%. Okay, with a population of 300 million, 8% still gives the Left some two and a half million fat-heads to work with. And normal people, among the remaining 280 million, have a lot of things they’d rather do, and had better do, than troll liberals’ social media pages.

Hint: Defunding the colleges would be a big, big help!

The Exhausted Majority

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Almost everybody in America, regardless of race or sex, age  or national origin, whatever, hates Political Correctness and thinks it’s a problem for America. Only the skimpy 8% who identify themselves as “progressives” like it. This is according to a recent survey by “More in Common” (

The 92% of us who are not Far Left Crazy constitute, in the words of the survey, “an exhausted majority.” That’s a pretty good label: we are exhausted. We can hardly bear to hear another word from the perpetually yammering “progressives: in the words of the survey, “a tiny minority of far-left Americans.” As citizens of the world, they probably find that word “Americans” insulting. Time for a tantrum.

So the question is, and the survey didn’t ask it, if only 8% of the people like Political Correctness, why are the rest of us served great fat heaping bowlfuls of it, day after day? At our schools and colleges and looniversities, TV and movie studios, why the devil is PC the only damned thing on the menu?

That’s a question that needs answering, folks.

‘Depraved’ Starts Here

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Lizzie Borden in 1890

In 1893 Lizzie Borden, spinster, of Fall River, Massachusetts, was tried for the ax murders of her father and stepmother. The little ditty survives to this day: Lizzie Borden took an ax, gave her father forty wacks/ When she saw what she had done, she gave her mother forty-one.

For the record, Ms. Borden was acquitted of the crimes. No one else was ever charged with the murders. By the time she died in 1927, her legend was firmly established.

Now, the house where the murders were committed is the Lizzie Borden Bed & Breakfast and Museum. I am not going to link to their site because I felt rather soiled by contact with the whole idea. If you were wondering where bad taste ends and sheer depravity begins… it’s here.

You can sleep in the Murder Room, buy postcards showing genuine crime scene photos of the butchered victims, and even buy a Lizzie Borden bobble-head doll complete with cute little ax. Why anyone would want any of this is well beyond me. But this is a successful business, so it must have customers.

Uh, hello–anybody there? Two people were hacked to death in here. The last moments of their lives must have been unimaginably horrible. And if Lizzie, as the court found, didn’t kill them, imagine living the rest of your life with virtually everyone in America believing you did such a thing. And singing a song about it!

The human heart, wrote Jeremiah, is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it? (Jer. 17:9)

This is why we need a Savior. Good thing we’ve got one.

‘Feminists Fricasee Cinderella’ (2015)

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Ah, yes–feminism! What would we ever do without it?

Rejoice, I think.

Here we have feminists, three years ago, going to town on a Cinderella movie.

Little girls must be protected from fairy tales. They must be carted off to the Drag Queen Story Hour instead.

Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin.

Fame’s Not So Famous Anymore

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Once upon a time you wouldn’t need a caption to tell you this was Valentino.

Reporting on her blog today on Valentino’s cursed ring (, our friend “Janowrite” had to add that she meant the actor Rudolph Valentino, not some fashion magnate that I never heard of.

Rudolph Valentino died before talkies were invented, but he was the big silent movie star and international heart-throb, and during the days of my own childhood, many years afterward, there was no need to explain to anyone who Valentino was. I knew, and I was just a little kid playing with Crazy Ikes.

Jose Raul Capablanca, the world chess champion who once went eight years (!) without losing a game, also died before I was born. But I knew he was the world’s greatest chess player well before I began to learn how to play chess at the age of ten. Y’know those little fillers they used to have in newspapers, to plug in when the article didn’t quite reach to the bottom of the column? Some of those were about Capablanca. He–and Valentino, too–also used to turn up in anecdotes told by Bennett Cerf in his daily feature, Try and Stop Me (remember that?). I learned about a lot of famous people, reading Bennett Cerf.

But heck, racehorses then were more famous than a lot of celebrities are now.

It’s strange, when you think of it. In the 1950s we had only a few TV channels, no Internet, no social media–and yet the people who were famous, back then, were really famous! You didn’t have to be a chess player to know who Capablanca was. You didn’t have to watch silent movies to know who Valentino was. You didn’t have to hang out at the racetrack to know who Sea Biscuit was.

We’ve done something to shrink our pop culture giants. I can’t explain it, but I can see it. Like, Capablanca was a giant–but how many of you even know that Magnus Carlson, of Norway, is the world chess champion today? Crikey, I’m not even sure I spelled his name right.

‘I’m Back–but not for Texting’ (2015)

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Three years have gone by, and I still have yet to send or receive a text message. I’m trying to live my whole life without doing either.

Between public schooling and Hollywood, the war against the human mind is being won by the bad guys. There won’t be much left of the mind, by the time they’re done with it.

But for now–be eccentric! Talk to someone face to face!

Memory Lane: ‘Supercar’

Back in 1962, all the 8-year-olds in my neighborhood ran around singing the theme song from Supercar, a kids’ TV show starring wooden puppets. Anybody out there remember it? C’mon! Mike Mercury behind the wheel of Supercar! You don’t remember that?

Watch carefully, then see if you can answer the question, “What’s wrong with this picture?” I mean, talk about cutting corners on a special effect–!

My brother had a model of a car that, like Supercar, was supposed to ride on downward-thrusting jets of air rather than wheels. You made it do that by blowing through a rubber tube. Alas, no one in my family had enough wind to lift the car. There it sat, immoveable. *sigh*

A Lesson from a Troll

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Unless you were here very early today, you won’t have seen the plethora of comments left by a surly transgender fan. I have, of course, deleted them. You can’t be nice to leftids. You allow them into your cyber-living room, and all they do is pee on the carpet.

Anyhow, this jidrool accused me of “violence,” “rape,” “beatings,” and a few other misdeeds. Now, if I had actually done any of those things, I would be a criminal. And of course I haven’t done them. But–!

Now, for the Left, “violence” or “hate” constitutes any failure to join with them in whatever delusion they’re embracing at the moment. It’s also “violence” for Christians to believe in the Bible. We are supposed to agree with leftids, we are Haters if we don’t, that the Bible is “only just a bunch of two-thousand-year-old stories” which we must immediately jettison in favor of whatever the left is selling.

Note that it’s not “hate” or “violence” for them to insult, vilify, and mock anyone who isn’t them.

Quite simply, and as we so abundantly saw throughout the Kavanagh hearings, objective truth does not exist for leftids.

But it is an objective truth that there is no such thing as “transgender.” There are only really messed-up people who say they are “trans” and demand that we say it, too.

They’re killing our culture, and we musn’t let them do it.


Bill Maher: ‘We Need to Promote Death’

People really need to wake up and understand that liberalism, leftism, progressivism, whatever you want to call it, is Satanic in origin: and we can tell that by its insatiable taste for death.

That would be other people’s deaths, of course. Not their own.

Here’s Far Left atheist comedian (honk if you think he’s funny) Bill Maher, a few years ago on a radio talk show, saying, “We need to promote death.” He likes assisted suicide or “any kind of suicide, whatever gets the traffic moving.” This, he sort of explains, is because “the planet is too crowded.”

You will have noticed by now that he himself has not committed suicide.

Remember: If everybody did everything the Left says is good, there’d be nobody left alive. 

The more people we can get to understand this, the better.

“All they that hate me love death.” (Proverbs 8:36)

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