We Smash Commies

Another day another excuse to spam old memes all over the internets.

It seems that there was a number of incidents yesterday; including one at Huntington Beach CA where our beloved antifa friends discovered that people just aren’t going to take their shit any more.

Vox Day summing up this truly heart warming story. (the comments are hilarious as always.)


Anyway I promised memes and this is as good a time as any.


From before the dark times. Before the SOCJUS


Pretty much this.


But happily every problem has a solution.


A good question.


A good answer.


Honestly I’m really beginning to understand the helicopter thing.


Soon fam. Very very soon,


Newsflash for morons: Blocking roads is no longer an effective protest tactic.


While we may occasionally experience short periods of “less winning” remember The Winning will never stop!


Okay I’ll admit it. I’ve always been a bit of a copperhead.

Edit: I almost forgot the BEST one.



We Smash Commies

Respect My Culture

Because I haven’t been posting a lot of content lately here’s a meme/image dump post to make up for it. One of the side effects of being a space opera fan is that I spend a lot of time thinking about and trying to wrap my head around various cultures real and fictional. So since I do tend to save the occasional meme I figured it was worth the time to go and dig through a few of them.

We start of course with this classic Paul Joseph Watson video.



Yes, Columbus was an massive asshole (even by the standards of his day) but that’s no reason to ignore just how brutal and savage many of the native tribes were.


Mostly true; but to be absolutely sure you’d better eat three strips of bacon.


I’m actually running into the occasional problem reworking my Space Opera timeline because of this sort of thing.


Remember you’re not a real cowboy unless you’re hanging out with drunken Indians.


Kebab are happy cheerful people.


Why drone operators have such high rates of PTSD? The answer will surprise you.


A surprisingly functional household all things considered.


I’ve seen better versions of this meme but this is the only one I bothered to save.


A more and more reasonable response these days.


Canada mostly has non-edible animals on our money… and a boat.


For the future Alt-West woman in your life.


Rare Scottish Medieval tapestry depicting the invention of the kilt. 


Here’s a good response when some twatbar tells you Islam is good for diversity.


The exact moment Bob and Debra begin to suspect that cultural relativism was indeed a flawed concept after all.


Sven and Olaf really have no idea why this keeps happening, it just does. Good thing they were nearby to help out.


Just make sure you got a wingman. This bunch looks like trouble.


I seriously can’t remember where this is from… wait wasn’t there a movie like this?


Chief Booga presents his best arguments for anarcho-capitalism. A representative of the Bank of England politely disagrees.

Respect My Culture

Sometimes the Redpills Hit You All at Once.

The following video is from a school board meeting in Ontario. You might want to get some popcorn before you watch it.


Yeah that’s pretty intense. I had to stop what I was doing and get some bacon flavoured pork jerky to celebrate. It definitely gives you the feeling that The Great Decucking of Canada might just happen a little faster and sooner than anyone expects.

As for Reconquista 2.0? We’ll just have to wait and see… All eyes are on Europe. Canada will just have to wait our turn.

Sometimes the Redpills Hit You All at Once.

A War Story

Progress on my military sci-fi novel is going so slowly that I’m quite embarrassed about it. I just can’t shake the feeling that I’m letting my friends down. However any progress however small is still better than no progress at all. The curse right now that of “over worldbuilding” since this is my fifth or sixth attempt of writing a novel in this universe (Martyr’s Shadow from the previous post was I believe the second.) there is a truly autistic amount of backstory and background information that I CANNOT infodump on the reader. Picking and choosing what details to put in and leave out is going to be as much of a struggle as chipping away at what on the surface is a very modest goal.

One side effect of this is that I’ve been reading a lot of WWII and Vietnam War memoirs just trying to get the feel of how men act and think under fire. Brothers in the Dust is first and foremost a test to see how well I can write common soldiers in the line of duty. The big space opera stuff can come later.

The following is transcribed from the Vietnam war memoir Chickenhawk (1983) by helicopter pilot Robert Mason (highly recommended)



Both men had been hit in the head on the last lift. One had been shot from the front and the other from the side. Both were clutching their helmets, pointing at the holes. One guy had had a bullet hit the visor knob on the forehead portion of his flight helmet. The bullter had crushed his helmet and glanced off. His scalp was bleeding.

The other lucky soul walked around holding his helmet with a finger into the holes on each side of it. Dried blood matted his hair on each side of his head. It was a magician’s illusion. The bullet had to have gone through his head, from what we could see. We wanted to know the trick.

I figured it out on the way back.” he said. “I mean after I stopped feeling for the holes on each side of my head and asking Ernie if I was still alive!” He was still pale, but he laughed. “The bullet hit while we were on short final to X-ray. Luckily Ernie was flying. It felt like somebody had hit me on the head with a bat. It blurred my vision. First I thought that a bullet had hit me on the helmet and somehow bounced off. Ernie first noticed the blood. He turned to tell me about a round going through the canopy in front when he saw it.” I could imagine the guy seeing the jagged hole in the side of his friend’s flying helmet, blood dripping down his neck. “I reached up to feel my helmet and felt the hole on the right side, but Ernie said the blood was coming from the other side. I put my left hand up and felt that hole! I pulled both hands down quickly, and they were both bloody! I felt the helmet again. Two holes all right. One on each side of my head. I couldn’t believe I was still alive1” He passed the helmet around while he continued his story.” See, it hit here.” He pointed in front of his right ear. “The bullet hit this ridge of bone and deflected up between my scalp and inside of the helmet. Then —he shook his head in disbelief— “then it circled around inside the top of the helmet and hit this ridge of bone on my left side.” He pointed. “it was deflected out here, through the helmet and on through the canopy in front of Ernie!” He beamed. I saw the path the bullet made as it tore its way through the padding on the inside of the helmet and the wounds on each side of his head. I shook my head. God again?

Hell of a story isn’t it?

That is the standard I need to be reaching for in my writing. That level of drama and amazement. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intimidated as hell but the world really doesn’t need another werewolf Pegasus knight romance. Besides it’s better to have standards that are too high than no standards at all. Even if I can’t hit such a distant target… at least I’ll be firing in the right direction.

A War Story

Martyr’s Shadow

An old piece of writing I found digging around. Good for a laugh if nothing else. Peter Talek is definitely the classic Gamma protagonist.

Martyr’s Shadow

The marine sentry held his hand up to his ear bug for a second before grunting “Ensign Talek, the Lady Admiral will see you now.”

Reserve Ensign Sir Peter Marcin Talek came sloppily to attention and snapped a salute that was half-assed and half mockery, “very well Sergeant perhaps it’s time to see what all this fuss is about.”

The sergeant rolled his eyes but held off a rebuke on account of Peter’s last name, “Yeah whatever kid, just don’t get the Old Lady too riled up will you?”

Peter gave an impish grin as he opened the heavy pseudo-oak door,” Oh come on it’s not like anything that happened was my fault, was it?”

On the other side of the door Peter was shocked to find two additional guards, this time in full body armor and wearing the black and purple uniform of the Special Forces. A third man wearing a Captain’s shoulder patch came up to greet him.

“So Sir Peter what do you think of Mount Atlas, so far?”

Peter stared incredulously,” The door was a fucking checkpoint?”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far but as you can see we do take the Admiral’s security very seriously,” the Captain said.

Peter eyes narrowed as a tiny fragment of strength leaked through his youthful irreverence. He never did like being threatened or intimidated even absentmindedly. “Still I do object to being drugged and whisked away to a secret location, simply on the principle of the thing.”

The Captain motioned down the hallway and the two of them started walking. ”Well that is the principle of the thing. What is the point of having a hidden facility if everyone knows where it is?”

Peter conceded the point still it was an odd feeling to be walking around a secret military base in civilian clothes, “If my aunt wanted to chew me out why couldn’t she just screen me normally, rather than go though all this trouble?”

The still unnamed Captain practically growled his reply,” maybe she’s serious

this time.”

Peter started to reply but was cut short as the Captain grabbed the front of his shirt, “Listen punk… I’ve seen your fucking aptitude tests. By all rights you should be wearing this uniform not sitting around all day playing video games and smoking pot with a bunch of anarchist shitheads.” The Captain stuttered for a moment perhaps feeling he had gone too far; “what would you father think?”

Peter’s answer boiled up from deep within him. Cold and callous but somehow appropriate,” My father would not approve of his old unit becoming a Praetorian Guard.”

After that they walked to the end of the hallway in awkward silence.

Peter entered into the Admiral’s office and was briefly stunned at the richness of the furnishings and décor. Most members of Concordia’s ruling class were notoriously Spartan (at least in public) and he’d never gotten the impression that Aunt Karla was any different. The gold trimmed carvings and elaborate paintings that covered most of the walls seemed to be styled after Old Earth’s Roman and Greek eras. Peter had never studied any mythology older than John Wayne and Clark Kent or at least not in any depth and thus wasn’t terribly sure precisely what aspects of this art he was supposed to be appreciating.

Lady Admiral Karla Barbara Estara rose wearily from a large wooden desk cluttered with papers. She was a stern-faced woman of middle age with touches of grey finally working their way into her reddish mane. The off white cream color and forest green of the Concordian Navy’s uniform gave an odd contrast to her features yet only added to her aura of command and confidence.

“Out of uniform are we? I suppose that’s to be expected,” she said greeting her great nephew with a sinister half smile.

“You goons neglected to dress me,” Peter fired back pausing just a split second to make sure his aunt’s bodyguards had withdrawn. Talking back… well defending yourself in front of your clan Matriarch was one thing disrespecting a senior officer in front of her retainers was quite another. “I’m not in active service right now anyway.”

Aunt Karla glanced down at one of the notes on her desk,” You still have four years peace time service if I remember correctly.” Peter stuttered what might have been a reply. “Besides,” she continued gracefully shifting to another point, “you were born a Corsair so your skin is all the damn uniform you fucking well need.”

“Any salute you get from me will be with one finger. I’ll let you guess which one,” Peter answered perhaps a bit too sharply for this sort of social occasion but pomp and circumstances had always been a complete waste of time for him.

If the Matriarch was offended she gave no sign, “After the fleet reorganization in three months I will be assuming command of Second Fleet. I am willing to offer you a place on my staff as my flag lieutenant. If you accept I should be able to get you a promotion to Sub-Lieutenant in about six months.”

Peter wasn’t too surprised his few surviving relatives had been pushing to get him back into the military every chance they got. “You don’t really think I’m that suited to staff work you?”

Aunt Karla laughed. “Dear Nephew your sole redeeming virtue is the fact that I am absolutely fucking sure you are not an enemy spy. I feel it would a shame for that virtue to go unused. Surely you wish to serve your country?”

“If I believed my Nation was in real danger I would rally to the flag like any patriot,” Peter replied. “In the meantime I see no point in serving in order to build a career for career’s sake.”

The Admiral snorted perhaps she hadn’t actually expected his rebuttal,” Whatever, your career plans are a subject for another time.”

Martyr’s Shadow

Popcorn Requested

Ok breaking news this was just posted on Facebook.


The words that come to mind are “Oh FUCK YES!!! There will be justice!!!

I was joking before the election that there was about a 50/50 chance that Obama would flee the country to avoid prosecution. Now it increasingly looks like he should taken my advice.

Is this PizzaGate related? Probably not but the possibility is still there. There’s just so much corruption to choose from who knows what they will dig up.

Wikileaks also has something big to release tomorrow. Probably related but again it could be something completely unexpected.

and in lighter news the Right Wing Safety Squads have a new regulation uniform.


Still no word on the Physical Removal Teams…

Popcorn Requested

Stages of Civil Conflict and the Violent Leftist’s Dilemma

The Violent Leftist’s Dilemma

Going through a lot of peace advocate’s regret here. I suppose that’s to be expected in this day and age. Also I’ve been putting a lot of thought into the matter of civil conflict both ‘short of war’ and in the case of open civil war. Mostly for the novels I still intend to write at some point* but it seems that I’m going to get a much closer look at this topic then I ever expected to.


There seems to be six stages or levels of Civil Conflict.

1: Protests

2: Riots

3: Street battles

4: Paramilitary gun battles

5: Covert or informal civil war.

6: Open civil war

My current assessment is that The Hard Left is strongest at Stage Two: Riots (as most Trump supporters have these things called jobs and families and can’t just counter-riot) will begin to lose control at Stage Three: Street Battles and will instantly lose if things get to Stage Five.

Stage Three or street battles is probably the most romantic and interesting from a fictional point of view. After all you get to hit your opponent with a club without getting shot in the groin by a sniper five blocks away. This is actually the sort of thing every Gamma male dreams of; “honorable combat” without the real risks of a proper war. There of course of two problems with this approach.

-Most Gammas are horrible fighters

-Violence begets violence and once the deaths occur the conflict will rapidly escalate into stage four: Paramilitary gun battles.

And in America who has the guns? And for that matter the gun culture required to use them effectively. Something tells me it’s not the people you meet in Starbucks.


Stage four of a civil conflict will not end well for the Left. The Intelligent Left understands this. The problem is that there is very little intelligence remaining in the spirit of modern Left. The dancing clowns of Antifa will push their luck for as long as they can. After all is this not a chance to live out their fantasy? They will be the Commissar not just another body in the ditch.

The problem with that little fantasy is that Terror Tactics tend to backfire and increase the resolve of the targeted population. Remember that the reaction of the Alt-Right (and a few people I had thought as calm moderate Conservatives) to the Berkley Riots was to spam the March of Cambreadth everywhere.

At the very least a population targeted by terrorists will begin (however slowly in the case of Europe) to defend themselves and take countermeasures. The difference between a riot and a street battle is that there are two sides willing and prepared to fight. I’m looking forward to the absolutely hysterical reaction we’ll see when the violent left runs into a crowd of people who just aren’t going to take their shit anymore (or Kek help us all one of those Right Wing Safety Squads I keep hearing rumors about.) With any luck that will be enough to stop the escalation of violence. I just wouldn’t put any sort of money on it.


Remember Captain Texas is only The First Avenger. Expect there to be others.


Yes I’m going off on a bit of a rant here but the American elite and especially the media seem to be BADLY underestimating the level of anger in ‘flyover country.’ There is simply no way they can win a civil war. The March of the Red Hats will not be stopped. They are obsessing over Trump while completely failing to understand that Trump is riding the movement he himself is not the movement. And if they’re stupid enough to ‘Get rid of Trump’ Oh sweet Jesus! will the helicopters fly.


Oh and speaking of Gammas… the trolls at Vox Populi have been especially heavy the last few weeks so seeing this brought a smile to my face.


I’ve stated before that I’m an extreme pessimist. I hope to hell that I’m wrong about the violence escalating but the longer the current state of affairs continues the more likely deaths will occur. I’m honestly astonished that there have been so few deaths up to this point. That said it will not take much to stroke the fire. Only the promise that Grand Inquisitor Sessons will actually bring law and order back to the United States is keeping things from turning truly ugly.


A masterfully edited version of Sabaton’s Sparta.

Really seems to capture the current mood of the American Hard Right.

I’ll leave you with this because while righteous anger has a place it’s always best to walk away with a smile.


*Since I have a friend who will ask. I had to completely scrap my opening and start over. Brothers in the Dust really isn’t that ambitious a project and I should be able to pull it off. My problem has always been my inability to focus on one thing at a time. I haven’t given up I just need to take a completely different approach. For one thing I’m seriously over world building but that’s another rant for another day.

Stages of Civil Conflict and the Violent Leftist’s Dilemma