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Today, 2:12 pmAttack of the But-Heads...
That's right. It's the Attack of the But-Heads.
I'm Andrew Klavan and this is the Revolting Truth.
Today a tale of horror all the more frightening because it's true.
As a poisonous miasmic fog of sharia creeps like a poisonous miasmic fog of sharia across the nations of the west, strange creatures are growing up among us. They are haunting our halls of power, the sewers of our news media and the circus tents of our universities. They move in hordes as mindless and destructive as the zombies in The Walking Dead or the Democrat voters in the last presidential election or the walking dead democrat voters in Chicago and Philadelphia.
If you listen carefully, in the watches of the night, you can hear these shambling monsters murmuring their eldritch refrain: "I believe in Free speech but... I support the first amendment but... I believe in free expression but..."
That's right. It's The Attack of The But-Heads.
The "but" in the phrase "I believe in free speech but..." is bigger than Kim Kardashian's, has more wiggle room than Jennifer Lopez' and is as white and soft as Kate Upton's... all right, maybe I just got distracted on that last one.
But the point is... the but-heads are everywhere and they've come to devour your rights, one exception at a time.
Consider this. When Islamist terrorists staged a vicious mass murder in Paris in response to a magazine satire of Muhammed, the terrorists declared, "The future must not belong to those who slander the prophet of Islam." No, wait that wasn't the terrorists that was President Obama. No, no, it was the terrorists. No, it was Obama. No, it must've been the terrorists, right?
Obama: The future must not belong to those who slander the prophet of Islam.
Anyway, whether it was the terrorists or our president, they were expressing the creeping but-head belief that there should be an exception to free speech when it comes to blasphemy. The Obama administration has even lent support to United Nations efforts to curtail blasphemous speech, and in England, Italy and Holland, people are being prosecuted for anti-religious speech already. Now I know, many of the west's foundational nations had anti-blasphemy laws. That's why they executed Socrates and Jesus. So what could possibly go wrong?
But in the present day, those who try to outlaw blasphemy only look like western human beings. They're really but-heads.
In our media the horror continues. Even after the Paris slaughter, many western news outlets refused to display cartoons that had offended the delicate sensibilities of cold blooded Islamist butchers. Editors at The New York Times, a former newspaper, said, "We do not normally publish... material deliberately intended to offend religious sensibilities." Which was a lie since they've repeatedly published material offensive to Christians. But then the editors of the Times only look like free-speaking men and women... they're really but-heads.
Then there's our universities. From Yale to Purdue to UC Berkeley, the academy's but-heads have banned, persecuted and harassed students, teachers and visiting speakers whose speech violated leftist principles by being truthful about Islamism.
So be afraid. The Nazi-like thugs of militant islam are only men and can be destroyed... but the but-heads are the hollowed-out shell of free people animated by oppressive undead ideas. They're your worst nightmare. No buts.
I'm Andrew Klavan with the Revolting Truth
January 24, 2015, 9:01 pmMiss Kitty's prs. wk 1-25
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January 23, 2015, 7:22 pmBlack Lives Matter?...
Watched 49,935 times
In which our daring host exposes the revolting truth about the 'Black Lives Matter' movement - that they don't really care about life at all.
I'm Andrew Klavan and this is the Revolting Truth.
Black lives matter! I think. Wait a minute, do they?
Let's find out.
"Black lives matter," is the slogan of a nationwide activist movement dedicated to hampering the police so that more black people can be killed. About 90 percent of black people who are killed are killed by other black people but those black lives don't matter to Black Lives Matter. Black Lives Matter activists are instead protesting aggressive police methods sometimes lumped under the rubric "Broken Windows Policing," which have almost certainly saved thousands of black lives... that don't matter to Black Lives Matter.
After Mayor Rudy Giuliani and Police Commissioner William Bratton instituted Broken Windows Policing in New York City in the 90's, murder rates there dropped far faster than in other cities without those techniques � and fewer people were sent to prison there as well! Since the majority of murder victims are black, the police can be credited with saving thousands of black lives... that don't matter to Black Lives Matter. If the black people who weren't murdered only knew they weren't murdered they could protest against Black Lives Matter by saying their black lives matter, but they don't know, so they don't matter.
The Black Lives Matter movement to insure more black people die was inspired by the Ferguson Missouri killing of Michael Brown, a gentle giant murdered by a racist police officer in the imagination of the activists, but in real life, a stoned lawbreaker shot after he assaulted the cop who tried to arrest him. The Black Lives Matter push to allow more black people to get killed gathered steam after the Staten Island death of Eric Garner, a good man viciously strangled by the NYPD according to Mayor Bill de Blasio and other bloviating knuckleheads, but in fact a morbidly obese career criminal whose heart stopped in an ambulance after he was restrained by police while resisting arrest.
Now you may ask: why do these two black lives matter to Black Lives Matter when the thousands of black lives saved by police don't matter? You might also ask why do fantasy scenarios about racist cops killing innocents matter when the daily reality of police officers protecting and preserving the lives and neighborhoods of our fellow citizens who are black doesn't seem to matter?
It looks as if the only thing that really matters to the likes of Black Lives Matter is the strategy of dividing Americans by any means possible � race, gender, sexuality, anything they can use � in order to create excuses to increase a real stranglehold: the stranglehold of the federal government on all of our individual lives which don't matter to Black Lives Matter.
According to former federal prosecutor guy Andrew C. McCarthy, the feds used just such race-baiting techniques to gain federal oversight over policing methods in Seattle Washington in 2012 � and since then, Seattle crime rates have skyrocketed, adversely affecting all those black lives that don't matter to Black Lives Matter.
Here at the Revolting Truth, we don't believe black lives matter... we don't believe all lives matter... we believe each life matters, because each of us is created in the image of God... No, really! Otherwise we'd just be matter. And wouldn't matter.
I'm Andrew Klavan with the Revolting Truth.
January 19, 2015, 6:01 pmFrom Allen West...
The reason why we're not going to be able to win this fight against Islamo-fascism, Islamic terrorism, and jihadism is because we ain't got the stomach, the intestinal fortitude.
A convicted terror leader with links to the Paris attacks can't be deported from the United Kingdom because it would split up his family. How is it that a "Human Rights Act" could be used by a convicted and imprisoned jihadist fundraiser? What about the human rights of the victims of the actions he sought to fund?
I'd also like to know if terrorism is once again a top concern for the American people, which presidential wannabe or conservative Member of the House or Senate will step up and present a policy solution to finally defeat Islamo-fascism and Islamic militancy? I'm waiting...
Steadfast and Loyal
January 17, 2015, 9:18 pmMiss Kitty's prs. wk. 1-18
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January 17, 2015, 1:38 pmBette Davis on Joan Crawford...
Bette Davis on Joan Crawford
"Joan Crawford�I wouldn't sit on her toilet!"
"I wouldn't piss on Joan Crawford if she were on fire."
"Joan Crawford�Hollywood's first case of syphilis."
"She has slept with every male star at MGM except Lassie."
January 16, 2015, 11:47 pmThis is how Feinstein gets rich..
Ever wonder how lowly paid lawmakers leave office filthy rich?
Sen. Dianne Feinstein is showing how it's done.
The US Postal Service plans to sell 56 buildings � so it can lease space more expensively � and the real estate company of the California senator's husband, Richard Blum, is set to pocket about $1 billion in commissions.
Blum's company, CBRE, was selected in March 2011 as the sole real estate agent on sales expected to fetch $19 billion. Most voters didn't notice that Blum is a member of CBRE's board and served as chairman from 2001 to 2014.
This feat of federal spousal support was ignored by the media after Feinstein's office said the senator, whose wealth is pegged at $70 million, had nothing to do with the USPS decisions.
When the national debt is $18 trillion, a billion seems like small change.
Filed under Dian
January 15, 2015, 11:56 pmIs the White House a "Sleeper Cell?"...
January 12, 2015, 9:39 pmDiversity...
January 10, 2015, 10:39 pmMiss Kitty's prs. wk. 1-11
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January 10, 2015, 11:08 amMy comment..
Je suis Charlie. RIP to all the victims.
January 3, 2015, 10:07 pmMiss Kitty's prs. wk 1-4
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January 1, 2015, 2:44 pmA foursome of golfers...
Subject: Fw: A foursome of golfers
A foursome of golfers, all in their 40's, discussed where they should meet
for lunch. Finally it was agreed that they would meet at Hooters because
the waitresses were young, good looking, had big breasts and wore
Ten years later, at age 50, the golfing buddies once again discussed where
they should meet for lunch. Finally it was agreed that they would meet at
Hooters because the food and service was good, they had many televisions to
watch the games on, and the beer selection was excellent.
Ten years later, at age 60, the foursome again discussed where they should
meet for lunch. Finally it was agreed that they would meet at Hooters
because there was plenty of parking, they could dine in peace, and it was good
value for the money.
Ten years later, at age 70, they discussed where they should meet for
lunch. Finally it was agreed that they would meet at Hooters because the
restaurant was wheelchair accessible and had a toilet for the disabled.
Ten years later, at age 80, the friends discussed where they should meet
for lunch. Finally it was agreed that they would meet at Hooters because
they had never been there before.
December 27, 2014, 10:09 pmMiss Kitty's prs.. wk 12-28
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December 24, 2014, 7:10 pmFunny...Funny
contest to find out who had the wildest Christmas dinners. It won first prize.
As a joke, my brother Jay used to hang a pair of panty hose over his fireplace before Christmas. He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill them.
What they say about Santa checking the list twice must be true because every Christmas morning, although Jay's kids' stockings overflowed, his poor pantyhose hung sadly empty.
One year I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and went in search of an inflatable love doll. They don't sell those things at Wal-Mart. I had to go to an adult bookstore downtown.
If you've never been in an X-rated store, don't go. You'll only confuse yourself. I was there an hour saying things like, "What does this do?" "You're kidding me!" "Who would buy that?" Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section.
I wanted to buy a standard, uncomplicated doll that could also substitute as a passenger in my truck so I could use the car pool lane during rush hour.
Finding what I wanted was difficult. "Love Dolls" come in many different models. The top of the line, according to the side of the box, could do things I'd never heard of. I settled for "Lovable Louise." She was at the bottom of the price scale.
To call Louise a "doll" took a huge leap of imagination.
On Christmas Eve and with the help of an old bicycle pump, Louise came to life.
My sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in during the wee morning hours. Long after Santa had come and gone, I filled the dangling pantyhose with Louise's pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies and drank what remained of a glass of milk on a nearby tray. I went home, and giggled for a couple of hours.
The next morning my brother called to say that Santa had been to his house and left a present that had made him VERY happy but had left the dog confused. She would bark, start to walk away, then come back and bark some more.
We all agreed that Louise should remain in her panty hose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional Christmas dinner.
My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door. "What in the hell is that?" she asked.
My brother quickly explained, "It's a doll."
"Who would play with something like that?" Granny snapped.
I kept my mouth shut.
"Where are her clothes?" Granny continued.
"Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran," Jay said, to steer her into dining room.
But Granny was relentless. "Why doesn't she have any teeth?"
Again, I could have answered, but why would I? It was Christmas and no one wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance saying, "Hang on Granny, hang on!"
My grandfather, a delightful old man with poor eyesight, sidled up to me and said, " Hey, who's the naked gal by the fireplace?"
I told him she was Jay's friend.
A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel, talking to Louise. Not just talking, but actually flirting. It was then that we realized this might be Grandpa's last Christmas at home.
The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a noise like my father in the bathroom in the morning. Then she lurched from the mantel, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of the sofa. The cat screamed. I passed cranberry sauce through my nose, and Grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began administering mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
My brother fell back over his chair and wet his pants.
Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room, and sat in the car.
It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember.
Later in my brother's garage, we conducted a thorough examination to decide the cause of Louise's collapse. We discovered that Louise had suffered from a hot ember to the back of her right thigh.
Fortunately, thanks to a wonder drug called duct tape, we restored her to perfect health.
I can't wait until next Christmas.