"One should either write ruthlessly what one believes to be the truth, or else shut up." — Arthur Koestler
by Smitty
Stacy McCain checks in with Doug Hoffman of NY-23, who falls tragically short of giving Stacy the big scoop about an announcement to occur next week that is ‘nominally undecided’, concerning Doug’s future.
We rather hope that Doug retains the non-command of political double-speak, the refreshing modesty, and the honest approach to challenges.
by Smitty (INTRODUCTION)
A man of completely undecidable race entered, dressed in a high-collared, dark robe, and moved to the head of the room, and began to speak.
Looking around the table, the fear of passing out appeared to be losing to the fear of continuing to take in the meeting in at least a couple of cases. At least two people were engaged in prayer, offering silent entreaty, or else they were mad.
The meeting had gone on for such an uncomfortable length of time that bodily functions, which these power brokers were so rarely in a position to have even bother them slightly, were becoming paramount.
And yet the presentation continued, noting the expendability of henchmen. The audience was not used to thinking of itself as henchmen. At the back of the table, a Japanese man started to speak.
“Fear is not a sign of strength. Fear, at the head of state level, is manifest in large bodyguard contingents. We underscore our strength by having our henchmen travel with thin retinues.
Granted, this increases the replacement rate, but of human fools there is never shortage.
Our minion
…will always among the people be surrounded by a mob of apparently curious men and women, who will occupy the front ranks about him, to all appearance by chance, and will restrain the ranks of the rest out of respect as it will appear for good order. This will sow an example of restraint also in others.
The appearance of accessibility must ever be maintained. You will know, when you hear reports of a town hall meeting or press conference with planted questions, which specific projects are poorly managed and likely to see a staffing change very soon.
Remember that any not aligned with us are to be cast as failures. Some of our lesser tools have published rule books for agitators and the like. Certain wiser members of the un-enslaved are begging to understand those writings, so beware.
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by Smitty
You come to CPAC to meet people. Last night at the dinner I was seated with the guys from the GI Film festival. Getting to have movies that don’t suck is an important part of reclaiming the country from the clutches of Progressivism.
Before the dinner, at the reception, I ran into a couple of webfeet, i.e. Oregonians. This blog doesn’t often celebrate low-brow, debauched behavior (much), but the Republican Party Animals seemed a right jolly bunch.
by Smitty (INTRODUCTION)
Subtle motions from the African and the other ten occupants of the room, Asians, Europeans, Latin Americans, the whole rainbow, indicated both their discomfort and their abject fear, beneath the stoic silence.
The head at the head of the table was a turning point for the remaining eleven. The knowledge that, far from a select few chosen to attend the most elite offsite meeting to be held at the already elite World Economic Forum, they were instead walk-on participants in a show of diabolical horror was now inescapable.
As is so often the case in tragic human affairs, wisdom, in the end, brought no comfort.
A man, an industrial magnate from Russia, if memory serves, sitting at the front left, managed an audible whimper. The woman behind him, dazed as a diabetic in shock, managed a sound at the prompt.
The speaker carried on, though a hint of a smile may have played at the corner of his mouth.
“Those from more more…restrictive corners of the globe, i.e., where our minions are even now holding greater sway, know that whoever has the most spies wins.
In our programme one third of our subjects will keep the rest under observation. It will then be no disgrace to be a spy and an informer, but a merit: unfounded denunciations, however, will be cruelly punished that there may be no development of abuses of this right.
It is not that the room under the bus is less than copious, or that we suddenly frown upon dishonesty: lying is as facile a tool as any. Just not to us. Permitting anyone to lie up or down the internal chain of command is detrimental to the organization, and will trigger instant openings, both in the org chart and the liar.
We shall too own all of the judges and lawyers, which will help filtering out legacy notions such as ‘justice’ from our grand vision for humanity.”
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CPAC is awarding a Charleton Heston ‘Courage Under Fire Award’, a Pennsylvania flintlock rifle, to Doug Hoffman and Mike Long. Long asks of the weapon, how am I supposed to get this home with Bloomberg in New York.’
Doug thanks Senator Fred Thompson and all those who supported.
by Smitty
I’m thoroughly enjoying hanging around with Da Tech Guy. What a gentleman’s gentleman. He is thoroughly committed to ensuring that the tip jar hitters who got him to DC for CPAC are getting maximum bang for the buck.
Do take a moment and check out his CPAC coverage, as well as the rest of his excellent blogging.
While contributions to The Other McCain tip jar are neither charitable, nor non-profit nor tax-deductible, we do accomplish certain humanitarian goals at CPAC.
Little Miss Attila enjoys an extra-dry martini — with Tangueray gin — courtesy of yours truly. We were joined in the lobby bar of the fabulous Marriott Wardman Park Hotel by Sean Hackbarth. Before Sean moved to D.C., Troglopundit was the second-ugliest blogger in Wisconsin. Speaking of ugly . . .
This is Erik Telford, whose job is to make sure that I never get invited to anything. Because of Telford, I was forced to drive to Pittsburgh and crash the Right Online conference last August. It was there I met Barbara Espinosa and the rest is either history, tragedy or farce. But she does hit the tip jar.
by Smitty (INTRODUCTION)
There was a legal pad and pen in front of me, there at the corner of the table away from the window and the head. Apparently I was the recorder for the meeting. Yes, I’d been a stenographer.
Before that second light bulb, or anyone else for that matter, died, the speaker paused a moment. He surveyed the room; the squid on the table; the eleven remaining movers and shakers of the world shivering in shock, misery and horror at the magnitude of the plan unfolding.
The scope of the global destruction that the protocols had already sketched, combined with their personal agony at being present to hear it all, not to mention that these were not young men and women anymore, had them at their breaking point.
“This portion of the discussion is going to offend some, perhaps. Universities are one thread common to you all.” And with that, he re-launched, until interrupted by an entrace.
“In order to effect the destruction of all collective forces except ours we shall emasculate the first stage of collectivism–the universities. Their officials and professorrs will be prepared for their business by detailed secret programmes of action from which they will not with immunity diverge, not by one iota.
…
The universities must no longer send out from their halls milksops concocting plans for a constitution, like a comedy or a tragedy, busing themselves with questions of policy in which even their own fathers never had any power of thought.
…
We shall erase from the memory of men all facts of previous centuries which are undesirable to us, and leave only those which depict call the errors of the governments…”
preceding our own.
…
In a word, knowing by the experience of many centuries that people live and are guided by ideas, that these ideas are imbibed by people only by the aid of education provided with equal success for all ages of growth, but of course by varying methods, we shall swallow up and confiscate to our own use the last scintilla of independence of thought…”
As the word ‘thought’ faded from the ear, the door opened again, and a silver charger bearing the head of a man, wild-eyed in death, carried by another hooded functionary. The new functionary halted and stood at attention.
The speaker acknowledged him: “So, you are the one who decided to promote himself. An excellent ploy, except from the standpoint of your predecessor. Set him down, and pick up the Master, who now wills to be moved.”
And the functionary did, leaving the head at the head of the stable, staring down at 11 people silently wishing it was all not happening. The squid may have been rippling with laughter at them, or it was the functionary silently picking up the tray under the fishbowl.
In any case, it was by now twice the size it had been merely an hour ago.
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