Australian Anthony Mundine is a world champion boxer. Before his move to boxing in 2000, he was one of the most prolific NRL players in the country. He maintains an extensive property portfolio, and currently has a net worth of $30 million. He is a highly respected member of the Australian sports media, and has been featured on numerous television programs.

He is also a figure prone to controversy. He converted to Islam in 1999 and, after the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks in New York, stated: “They call it an act of terrorism, but if you can understand religion, and our way of life, it’s not about terrorism. It’s about fighting for God’s law, and America’s brought it upon themselves.”

Mundine’s upcoming fight against fellow Australian Jeff Horn, who came to prominence after defeating Filipino boxing legend Manny Pacquiao in 2017, has now been marred by the same controversy surrounding Colin Kaepernick in the United States.

“They’re talking about playing the anthem. If they play the anthem I’m sitting down,” Mundine said. “I can’t stand for that, it’s a white-supremacist song.”

He claims that his upcoming opponent Horn, a rising star in the arena who competed for Australia in the 2012 London Olympics, has only been put on a pedestal because of the color of his skin.

“He’s got that privilege, man. You all know what privilege I’m talking about. He’s got that privilege,” Mundine said about Horn. “I’ve never had that privilege. Not many people did, but he’s got that privilege. I’m fighting against that more than anything. I’m fighting for equality and justice.”

Mundine stated that he and his people are forever being kept down by the white man. “The fight, the plight, the struggle, the constant everyday injustice of indigenous people. It’s got to stop,” he said, before presumably retiring to his $2.6 million eight-bedroom home in Redfern. “We’re getting raped and pillaged in different ways.”

“Instead of being a competition of skill between two athletes, Mundine is attempting to boil the whole bout down to a black-vs.-white racial debate.”

The former NRL star has regularly pointed to his indigenous heritage as the reason he didn’t play more representative football. Before his move to boxing, he was the highest-paid player in the NRL. Surprising that he refers to injustice, when he was being paid significantly more than his fellow white players.

As an Australian myself, there is always a sense of pride when one of my own countrymen succeeds on the world stage, be it sports, entertainment, or media, and Mundine is in this position for a majority of Indigenous Australians. Named the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Person of the Year in 2000, he is the first boxer in history to have had every one of his professional fights broadcast live, and has generated more pay-per-views than any other Australian boxer since he turned professional.

Mundine has enjoyed wealth, success, and opportunity throughout his life. By stating that Jeff Horn is only where he is due to his skin color, he is being deliberately divisive, at a time when race relations in this country are already strained.

“I do feel disrespected and [Horn] is going to face the brunt of that, he’s going to feel the wrath of that,” Mundine said. “I feel sorry for Jeff, he’s the one that’s going to have to cop the hits.”

So apologies, Jeff, you’ve just been roped into Mundine’s fight for equality and justice.

Instead of being a competition of skill between two athletes, Mundine is attempting to boil the whole bout down to a black-vs.-white racial debate. And unfortunately for Horn, this is exactly how it will be viewed by many Australians.

Mundine cries racism at every opportunity, once referring to respected Aboriginal figure and former NRL player and coach Arthur Beetson as an “Uncle Tom” (a black man considered to be excessively obedient or servile to whites) who went along with prevalent racism within the NRL. In late 2012, Mundine questioned former opponent Daniel Geale’s Indigenous Tasmanian heritage, saying he should not wear the Australian Aboriginal flag on his shorts. “I thought they wiped all the Aborigines from Tasmania out. He’s got a white woman, he’s got white kids. I keep it real, all day every day,” Mundine said. He has also claimed that Australia is one of “the most racist nations in the world” and has called for the Australian anthem and Australian flag to be changed to be more inclusive of Indigenous Australians.

Currently Australia is experiencing a resurgence of racial-based politics, such as the proposed moving of Australia Day (Jan. 26) on the basis that it is possibly offensive to Indigenous Australians. But what may seem an innocuous debate of inclusivity has become divisive, with many Indigenous Australians agreeing as they consider it to be “Invasion Day,” whilst many white Australians consider Australia Day a day for all Australians, Indigenous or not.

The so-called “invasion’” of Australia happened many years ago, and just like slavery in the United States, there is no longer any person alive in this country who experienced the events firsthand.

To say that Jeff Horn has only achieved what he has due to his “white privilege,” Mundine has once more divided people. And when so many young Indigenous Australians look up to him, it will only lead to yet another generation of people believing that “the white man is keeping them down,” when it is simply not the case at all.

Australia has numerous programs in place to help indigenous people, and in 2016 total direct government expenditure on Indigenous Australians was $33.4 billion. The sum was split between “targeted expenditure” of $6 billion, and “mainstream services” (services that all Australians access, including education and health care), which was $27.4 billion. The expenditure represented just 6 percent of total government spending on all Australians, which was $556.1 billion. When broken down to expenditure per person, the figure was $44,886 for Indigenous Australians and $22,356 for nonindigenous.

So it would seem, at least to me, that the opposite of what Mundine claims is happening.

Mundine’s comments are deliberately inciting. His career and popularity are on a decline, and a new generation of stars of the boxing and NRL worlds are coming into being. I understand the nature of the sports fighting world, and the need to “hype up” a fight, but to resort to the low act of using racially charged insults benefits nobody in the long run, and only serves to incite further hatred and division among Australians.

Ah, the refugee caravan. Would it be a midterm election without a bunch of oppressed brown-skinned asylum seekers storming the border? In a way, these refugees are like cicadas, appearing with clockwork predictability anytime the powers-that-be need a good “humanitarian crisis” to tug on voters’ heartstrings. So now we have the Hondurans…marching toward the border, holding the flag of their native country, demanding political asylum because (according to them) if they were to stay in their native country, they’d be slaughtered by their beloved countrymen. But hey, let’s proudly wave the flag of that native country made up of assholes who want us dead.

Remember when all those Jewish refugees from Germany in the 1930s arrived in the U.S. waving Nazi flags? No? Neither do I. I mean, I hate to come off as suspicious or untrusting, but it seems a little odd to be haughtily displaying the flag of a country that you are supposedly fleeing because everyone there wants to murder you.

And just as in the case of the Muslim and African immigrants flooding into Europe, we’re told by our benevolent leftist overseers that we must “let them in! They’re not trying to remake the West; they just want to be productive members of it. Let them have a home in your prosperous land, and they’ll share and care just like Barney the Dinosaur.”

Interestingly enough, the left’s attitude toward refugees was not always so, how should I put it, optimistic. That whole “benefit of the doubt” thing, that they come to be good lil’ helpers instead of colonizers and transformers, is a post–World War II phenomenon. Nativists on the right have always seen mass immigration as a danger. Many times they’ve been correct, but, to be fair, sometimes they’ve been proven wrong (“Don’t let the Irish in or within twenty years we’ll all be ruled by the Pope.” “Don’t let the Slavs in or within twenty years our national IQ will drop thirty points”). But I’m not talking about rightists. What interests me is the changing attitude of the “progressive” left. The “enlightened,” “humanist,” “rationalist” left. The people who now condemn as racist monsters anyone who advocates stemming the flood of third worlders pouring into Western nations.

It wasn’t always this way with them. Leftists used to have a far different attitude toward refugees. To quote every teenager who’s been turned down by an old buddy after asking to borrow twenty bucks, “You’ve changed, man. You used to be cool.”

Ever heard of Atlantropa? Probably not. It was a nutty scheme hatched by a nutty guy, and it never had even the remotest chance of ever coming to pass. In the 1920s, Europe was suffering from a myriad of post–World War I problems. There was a refugee crisis, the result of the shifting borders and population transfers that occurred at the war’s end. There was an energy crisis, and a serious shortage of natural resources. And, of course, there was the economic depression. Several years before a madly gesticulating Austrian with a wacky mustache would rise to power with his own solution to the continent’s ills, a plucky architect from Bavaria named Herman Sörgel proposed a different one: Drain the Mediterranean! Dam the Med and partially drain it, in order to form a contiguous body of land between Europe and Africa. A new continent that would be called Atlantropa. To Sörgel, this would cure Europe of all that ailed her. The dammed Mediterranean would create hydroelectric power plants to relight Europe’s recently dimmed lamps, and the elimination of pesky ocean crossings would allow millions of European refugees to stream into Africa, where they would take their rightful place as lord and master. Better still, this newly conquered African land would be ripe with fertile soil, minerals, and a plethora of natural resources for the taking.

“What we’re witnessing today is one mad dream having been replaced by another.”

Oh, Herman Sörgel, you pie-in-the-sky dreamer! You were the Elon Musk of your day (but slightly more grounded). The idea never took off, not just because of the fact that it was batshit insane, but also because, at that time, the left’s intellectual elite—the League of Nations crowd, the “forward-thinkers”—understood that you don’t cure one nation or one continent’s refugee problem by sending all of the huddled, wretched refuse to another people’s nation or continent. Back then, the left understood that this would pose serious problems for the host nation or continent. And the left was right. Atlantropa would have been a nightmare for native Africans, and eventually, there would have been a Rhodesia- or South Africa-style reckoning.

In the 1920s, if anyone had suggested that the specter of millions of European refugees streaming into Africa did not constitute an invasion, that person would have been dismissed as a lunatic, because of course it would have been an invasion. Those in favor of Atlantropa, and those against it, all got that point. The European refugees would not have been content to live like Africans, or to live under African rule. Europe’s refugee crisis would have become Africa’s domination crisis. So to the liberal elites, the best solution was to tell the refugees to stay put.

There was simply no debate back then that a mass influx of European refugees to Africa would have been a conquest, not a “humanitarian crisis” that Africans, with their ample space and nutrient-rich soil, had some kind of responsibility to sit back and accept. And to be clear, many of the European refugees who would have trekked across Sörgel’s newly reclaimed land were genuinely in need. They were impoverished, homeless, destitute. And a lot of them were fleeing political violence. Those folks were as poor, wretched, and persecuted as any Honduran is today. But in fully rejecting Atlantropa as a goal to be pursued, the international community took the position that “it sucks that you’re impoverished and mistreated in your home country, but it ain’t Africa’s problem. Stay where you are.”

See, in those days, the elites believed in keeping people in their own damn land. Hard as that might be to fathom now, that used to be a mantra of the progressive internationalists. There was a die-hard belief that the key to world peace was the separation of people, the segregation of populations by race, religion, and ethnicity. That was the entire point of the Greek/Turkish population exchange of 1923, overseen by the League in the name of keeping Greek Christians and Turkish Muslims separated for the sake of peace. As UNC Chapel Hill history professor Sarah Shields wrote in her 2016 essay in the Journal of the History of International Law, the prevailing belief at that time was that “Muslims and non-Muslims could not live together peacefully, and modernity required rejecting a diverse past in favor of a nation-state along European (unmixed) lines.”

Separation was the future, diversity was the past. Damn near 1.6 million Greeks and Turks were sent from the land of their birth to the land where they could live with those of a similar faith. Many of the other population transfers and redrawn boundaries that followed World War I were based on that same concept of giving people their “own” homeland based on characteristics like religion or ethnicity. It was simply taken as fact back then that nations function better with some level of homogeneity. That was canon back then. By the time the U.N. came around, that notion was still very much a guiding principle, as the internationalists realized that a vision of a multireligious, multiethnic Palestine was unrealistic and unattainable. And the Jews and the Arabs realized that too, which is why they started slaughtering each other, because they couldn’t bear to live in a partitioned state. Being separate but equal was not enough. They wanted to be separate and separated.

But here we are now, with globalists mandating that Western nations accept millions of third world refugees. And you know what? That alone would not be quite as objectionable if the scheme were presented honestly. But it isn’t. We’re being told that an invasion is not an invasion. We’re told that the swarm of refugees will strengthen the West, not weaken or destroy it. Because hey—no matter if everything you like about your nation is being slowly dismantled, no matter if your nice little prosperous, high-standard-of-living, low-crime, long-life-span country is becoming a fetid third world cesspool, at least you have better restaurants. My God, consider the restaurants. That’s the new leftist mantra, replacing the one that was so popular in the 1990s: “Will somebody think of the children?!” Now it’s “Won’t anybody think of the restaurants?!”

It makes me wonder, back when Belgians began streaming into the Congo (not exactly with the best of intentions), if one African native ever said to another, “Hey, don’t be so xenophobic, bro. Have you tried their moules-frites? Totally worth the risk of mass immigration. ’Cuz it’s all about the cuisine, man.”

What we’re witnessing today is one mad dream having been replaced by another. The 1920s League of Nations mind-set—compulsively drawing and redrawing national boundaries to keep people “in their place,” forcibly transferring millions of people from the land they were born to the land where they “belong”—was a mania, and one that caused a great deal of suffering. But the inherent principle behind it, that countries function better if they can retain a national identity, was not in and of itself wrongheaded or destructive. And now, leftists have flipped the script. Now the dominant mind-set is, we all have to mix. Homogeneity is a recipe for disaster (don’t mention Japan…don’t mention Japan…I’m not listening…la la la la), and the guiding principle is that the West must be made as diverse as possible. Homogeneity is now the enemy, and the social engineering once used to enforce it is now being used to dismantle it. Whereas a hundred years ago we were told by the enlightened internationalists that nations function better if united by a common race, ethnicity, or religion, we’re now told, “Naw, forget that nonsense. Diversity is our strength!”

Back then, a caravan of poor, starving, persecuted Europeans marching from Europe to Africa across Herman Sörgel’s drained Mediterranean would have rightly been called an invasion, a colonization. Today, similar caravans coming from Africa to Europe, or from Central America to the U.S., are called vessels of much-needed diversity. Because to leftist intellectuals, it’s all about power. Whether they’re forcibly separating us or forcibly mixing us, they get their pleasure from the force part. That’s what matters to them.

But take heart, America, and remember—among the thousands of Honduran caravan refugees currently marching toward our border, at least one or two of them are probably really good cooks. So get ready for some damn fine baleadas! Whatever else this modern-day realization of Herman Sörgel’s crazy dream brings, you can at the very least count on a few new and exciting menu options at your local restaurante.

So open wide and swallow. And bon appétit.

Saturday, in Pittsburgh, a Sabbath celebration at the Tree of Life synagogue became the site of the largest mass murder of Jews in U.S. history. Eleven worshippers were killed by a racist gunman.

Friday, we learned the identity of the crazed criminal who mailed pipe bombs to a dozen leaders of the Democratic Party, including Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton and Joe Biden.

From restaurants to Capitol corridors, this campaign season we have seen ugly face-offs between leftist radicals and Republican senators.

Are we more divided than we have ever been? Are our politics more poisoned? Are we living in what Charles Dickens called “the worst of times” in America? Is today worse than 1968?

Certainly, the hatred and hostility, the bile and bitterness of our discourse, seem greater now than 50 years ago. But are the times really worse?

1968 began with one of the greatest humiliations in the history of the American Navy. The U.S. spy ship Pueblo was hijacked in international waters and its crew interned by North Korea.

A week later came the Tet Offensive, where every provincial capital in South Vietnam was attacked. A thousand U.S. troops died in February, 10,000 more through 1968.

On March 14, anti-war Senator Gene McCarthy captured 42 percent of the vote in New Hampshire against President Johnson.

With LBJ wounded, Robert Kennedy leapt into the race, accusing the president who had enacted civil rights of “dividing the country” and removing himself from “the enduring and generous impulses that are the soul of this nation.” Lyndon Johnson, said Kennedy, is “calling upon the darker impulses of the American spirit.”

Today, RFK is remembered as a “uniter.”

“Are we living in what Charles Dickens called “the worst of times” in America?”

With Gov. George Wallace tearing at Johnson from the right and Kennedy and McCarthy attacking from the left — and Nixon having cleared the Republican field with a landslide in New Hampshire — LBJ announced on March 31 he would not run again.

Four days later, Martin Luther King, leading a strike of garbage workers, was assassinated in Memphis. One hundred U.S. cities exploded in looting, arson and riots. The National Guard was called up everywhere and federal troops rushed to protect Washington, D.C., long corridors of which were gutted, not to be rebuilt for a generation.

Before April’s end, Columbia University had exploded in the worst student uprising of the decade. It was put down only after the NYPD was unleashed on the campus.

Nixon called the Columbia takeover by black and white radicals “the first major skirmish in a revolutionary struggle to seize the universities of this country and transform them into sanctuaries for radicals and vehicles for revolutionary political and social goals.” Which many have since become.

In June, Kennedy, after defeating McCarthy in the crucial primary of California, was mortally wounded in the kitchen of the hotel where he had declared victory. He was buried in Arlington beside JFK.

Nixon, who had swept every primary, was nominated on the first ballot in Miami Beach, and the Democratic Convention was set for late August.

Between the conventions, Soviet Premier Leonid Brezhnev sent his Warsaw Pact armies and hundreds of tanks into Czechoslovakia to crush the peaceful uprising known as “Prague Spring.”

With this bloodiest of military crackdowns since the Hungarian Revolution of 1956, Moscow sent a message to the West: There will be no going back in Europe. Once a Communist state, always a Communist state!

At the Democratic convention in Chicago, the thousands of radicals who had come to raise hell congregated nightly in Grant Park, across from the Hilton where the candidates and this writer were staying.

Baited day and night, the Chicago cops defending the hotel, by late in the week, had had enough. Early one evening, platoons of fresh police arrived and charged into the park clubbing and arresting scores of radicals as the TV cameras rolled. It would be called a “police riot.”

When Sen. Abe Ribicoff took the podium that night, he directed his glare at Mayor Richard J. Daley, accusing him of using “Gestapo tactics in the streets of Chicago.” Daley’s reply from the floor was unprintable.

Through September, Democratic candidate Hubert Humphrey could not speak at a rally without being cursed and shouted down.

Describing the radicals disrupting his every event, Humphrey said, these people “aren’t just hecklers,” but “highly disciplined, well-organized agitators. … Some are anarchists and some of these groups are dedicated to destroying the Democratic Party and destroying the country.”

After his slim victory, Nixon declared that his government would take as its theme the words on a girl’s placard that he had seen in the Ohio town of Deshler: “Bring us together.”

Nixon tried in his first months, but it was not to be.

According to Bryan Burrough, author of “Days of Rage, America’s Radical Underground, the FBI, and the Forgotten Age of Revolutionary Violence,” “During an eighteen month period in 1971 and 1972, the FBI reported more than 2,500 bombings on U.S. soil, nearly 5 a day.”

No, 2018 is not 1968, at least not yet.

Amid the reams of personal information that have been released about MAGAbombing suspect Cesar Sayoc since his arrest on Friday, I have yet to find a word suggesting he’s ever had sex with a woman.

Then again, I haven’t found a word suggesting he’s ever had sex with a man, although he claimed to have worked as a male stripper and a Chippendale’s manager, and I assume you have to be gay to get (or even want) either job.

Last week’s biggest news story involved a series of crudely built pipe bombs, none of which detonated, mailed to Democratic and left-wing luminaries at a time suspiciously close to the midterm elections. At last count there were 13 such bombs linked to Sayoc. They all featured a return address of DEBBIE WASSERMAN SHULTZ [sic], the frizzy-haired, goat-faced Democratic super-yenta who used to represent the Florida district where Sayoc lived.

The first to receive a package was mega-billionaire intergalactic pterodactyl George Soros on Monday. On Wednesday, the Clintons and the Obamas received pipe bombs. A package sent to the New York offices of CNN prompted an on-air evacuation. Other alleged recipients were Attorney General Eric Holder, former Vice President Joe Biden, obviously gay black Senator Cory Booker, mentally retarded California Congresswoman Maxine Waters, and actor Robert De Niro.

Again, no one was hurt if you don’t count feelings…and if you don’t count the GOP’s chances of retaining a majority in the House of Representatives in the upcoming midterms. Why, it’s almost as if this October Surprise had been staged to make Trump supporters look like the hateful, steroid-addled, violence-prone numskulls that all the mail-bomb targets had been saying they were all along. It’s almost as if this entire situation was just a smidge too perfect for it to have not been orchestrated by Democrat operatives.

But when Sayoc—a Trump supporter whose devotion to the president appeared to border on the psychotic—was arrested on Friday, all the usual yipping Chihuahuas started yelping that this is exactly the sort of catastrophe that the president’s violent rhetoric was intended to cause, and if there was only one thing that wasn’t predictable about Sayoc, it was that he wasn’t the “white man” that news reports initially claimed he was. If only they had found a white man to blame, this would have been what they’d been praying for all along.

“What seems to have completely escaped notice is how intensely squirrely this alleged Hate Bomber is.”

According to reports, Sayoc was an odd duck indeed. His cousin told a reporter that Sayoc’s father is Filipino and his mother was Italian. But none of this deterred the alleged bomber from repeatedly claiming to be a Seminole Injun. He allegedly owned companies called Native American Catering & Vending and Proud Native America One Low Price Dry Cleaning. On social media, he recently described himself as a member of the Seminole Warriors boxing club and the “Unconquered Seminole Tribe.” He told coworkers that he lived on an Indian reservation and had done work for the Seminole Hard Rock Hotel and Casino. But a spokes-Injun for the Seminole Tribe of Florida said he had no record of Sayoc belonging to the tribe.

Sayoc had a long rap sheet dating back to 1991. He was charged in Minnesota with possessing crack cocaine. Most notably, his record included a 2002 arrest for threatening to bomb Florida Power and Light if they dared to shut off his power due to unpaid bills. According to Miami police, he personally threatened an employee and told him that the bombing would be “worse than September 11.” In 2004 he was charged with several felony counts of unlawful possession of anabolic steroids. Then came a 2013 conviction for battery and a conviction the next year for battery. He has also been arrested for fraud and evidence-tampering.

He filed for bankruptcy in 2012 at age 50 while still living with his mommy. At some point thereafter his mother kicked him out, and Sayoc apparently has been living out of a white van for the past few years. Until this past January he found work as a pizza delivery boy, an unflattering job for any man in his 50s.

According to Debra Gureghian, his lesbian boss at the pizza joint, Sayoc used to tell her that she should be “put on an island with all the other gay people and burned”:

He used to tell me all the time that I was deformed and Jesus made a mistake in me… He was very angry and angry at the world, at blacks, Jews, gays. He always talked about ‘if I had complete autonomy none of these gays or these blacks would survive.’… He was very, very strange.

Gureghian also says that while employed as a pizza delivery guy, Sayoc’s van was plastered with horrific bumper stickers:

It was puppets with their heads cut off, mannequins with their heads cut off, Ku Klux Klan, a black person being hung, anti-gay symbols, torchings, bombings, you name it, it was all over his truck.

She says that Sayoc’s bosses tolerated all this because he was a good worker, although they demanded he park his Hate Van away from customers’ view while delivering pizzas.

At some point over the past year, the Klan and lynching tableau on Sayoc’s van gave way to more explicitly pro-Trump and anti-Democrat bumper stickers. Every available inch of his van’s exterior was spackled with violent imagery featuring rifle crosshairs placed over the faces of people such as Barack Obama, Michael Moore, and Hillary Clinton. Another sticker said “CNN SUCKS.” Yet another showed Trump standing atop a tank while a bomb was exploding in the background.

All of this makes him seem like either a demented Trump supporter or a mindless patsy for anti-Trump forces. One thing is for certain—the story completely deflected attention away from the ominous brown human caravan headed to the USA from points south, a story that was working in Trump’s favor.

Yet what seems to have completely escaped notice is how intensely squirrely this alleged Hate Bomber is. He was a habitual steroid abuser so obsessed with youth and appearance, one of his criminal charges involved forging a driver’s license to make himself appear younger. And even though the Chippendale’s company denies that Sayoc ever danced for them, who but a delusional gay man would claim to be a Chippendale? Sayoc reportedly was known at the local LA Fitness for showering nude all day but never working out. And whereas a 2002 mug shot shows that he was severely balding, his recent arrest photo makes it appear as if he’s had hair either Sharpied or tattooed onto the top of his head.

Most heterosexuals seem to harbor some level of distaste for gays, whether or not they articulate it. But if Sayoc’s lesbian pizza boss was telling the truth, his calls for outright gay extermination bear the hysterical fervor of someone who desperately wants to burn his Inner Fag at the stake.

These are not the actions of a rabid Trump supporter. Neither are these the actions of at least the majority of paid government stooges. Rather, these are the actions of a repressed homosexual on steroids who is losing his looks and throws a hissy-fit because he realizes he will never, ever, EVER be a Chippendale’s dancer.

If I encounter the merest squib of evidence that Sayoc has ever had sexual relations with a woman—or even so much as lived with another woman besides his mommy—I may change my mind. For now, this is the funniest theory about the botched pipe bombs—which were, mind you, phallic in shape—that has yet occurred to me.

The Week’s Most Squirmy, Wormy, and Germy Headlines

Sinead O’Connor is a mentally ill bag o’ postmenopausal bones whose chief achievement is having a weird first name that reminds people of the word “skinhead.”

For a fleeting moment she was a famous singer, but fame popped the cork on her psychosis, and ever since she’s been ambling around oozing craziness like so much champagne foam.

Last year, in the midst of ignoring the four children she’s had with four different men, she made a self-pitying video claiming that she was suicidal because she was stuck in a New Jersey motel, failing to note that the entire state of New Jersey was suicidal because Sinead O’Connor had invaded it.

In a self-serving gesture of very public compassion, subzero-IQ British comic Russell Brand offered her a comment of public support on YouTube, which had O’Connor desperately pleading for him to stick his hee-hee in her ha-ha:

Could also do with a jolly good rogering, frankly. The last man who touched my body took out my reproductive system two years ago. So if you really wanna be part of my healing journey, c’mon, horse it into me, boss.

A year later, despondent that no one from the West has proved willing to rape her, Sinead O’Connor has converted to Islam. With her Twitter profile’s avatar now a Nike swoosh with the phrase “WEAR A HIJAB…JUST DO IT,” she has tweeted a picture of herself wearing one of those Islamic tablecloths around her head. Apparently she didn’t get the memo that you’re supposed to cover your face with those things.

Immune to shame, O’Connor boasted that her latest journey into the snake pit inside her skull has led her to embrace Mohammedanism:

This is to announce that I am proud to have become a Muslim. This is the natural conclusion of any intelligent theologian’s journey. All scripture study leads to Islam. Which makes all other scriptures redundant. I will be given (another) new name. It will be Shuhada

The name “Shahuda” means “martyr” in Arabic, but in any other language it means “psycho.”

In good news for the global umma but bad news for everyone else, the European Court of Human Rights has ruled that free speech must take a backseat to the noble cause of protecting Muslims’ feelings. In fact, they even used the word “feelings” in their ruling.

Reviewing a 2009 case in which an Austrian woman allegedly “defamed” the Holy Prophet during two public seminars, the court said that saying not-so-nice things about a schizophrenic pedophile warlord who’s been dead for over 1,300 years “goes beyond the permissible limits of an objective debate” and “could stir up prejudice and put at risk religious peace.”

“Despondent that no one from the West has proved willing to rape her, Sinead O’Connor has converted to Islam.”

In the struggle to balance the “right to freedom of expression with the right of others to have their religious feelings protected,” the court found that native Europeans need to shut their pale pink infidel mouths if they don’t want be decapitated or tossed off buildings or stoned to death.

Apparently seeking to pave a yellow brick road from the Middle East into Europe, the UN Human Rights Committee ruled last week that France’s niqab ban unjustly hurts the feelings and blithely stampedes over the rights of Muslim women to walk around bumping into things because they’re basically dressed like Cousin It from The Addams Family.

Do we need to hit Europe over the head with a baseball bat before it wakes up?

It’s a glowing testament to the human spirit, to the brotherhood of man, to the concept of a transcendent eternal soul, to the idea that we’re all in this together, to the notion that our so-called “differences” are only superficial, and to the fact that the world has gone out of its flippin’ gourd that a pair of teenage sisters can decide they’re men, have their boobs sawed off, and they’ll get a glowing profile in a major newspaper.

The Guardian is spotlighting 23-year-old identical twins Jack and Jace Grafe, who were born Jaclyn and Jennifer Grace until they decided that being girls wasn’t hip and cool and trendy and progressive and cutting-edge and edgy enough.

Born in Baltimore to a Christian pastor, the sisters both claim that as children, they cried themselves to sleep wishing they’d wake up as boys, but due to our oppressive and bigoted Nazi Industrial Media-Educational Complex, they were even afraid to admit it to each other.

Then, at age 16, they both decided they were gay, which, if aberrant sexual identities could be compared to illicit intoxicants, would be marijuana—a gateway drug at best. Then at 18, they moved onto mainlining the harder stuff when they decided they were both dudes. They had their boobs sawed off and even posed for pictures with their chests all bandaged up—those pictures are featured in that Guardian profile above, which we would urge you not to click on lest you wish to stab out your eyeballs with knitting needles.

Being “transgender” is extremely rare statistically—an estimated six in every thousand Americans suffers from the mental disorder known as gender dysphoria. An even tinier quotient of people are born as identical twins. When it comes to statistically improbable freakiness, these two daffy dames won the Lotto.

Megyn Kelly is an annoying broadcaster who has spent her lifetime misspelling the name “Megan.”

Prior to the #MeToo movement, Kelly shot to fame after pretending to be offended by the false idea that Donald Trump made a vulgar reference to her menstrual blood. She then left Fox News and got a cushy job at NBC making approximately 800 billion dollars a year merely by being a blonde woman with an IQ over 80.

Now she’s gone and done throwed it all away by factually stating that a long time ago, it wasn’t such a big deal for white people to dress up as black people for Halloween—nor for black people to dress up as white people.

Here are the comments from her show last Tuesday that got her crushed like a pretty li’l white bug:

But what is racist? You truly do get in trouble if you are a white person who puts on blackface at Halloween or a black person who puts on whiteface for Halloween. Back when I was a kid, that was OK, as long as you were dressing up as like a character.

If one were to play a game of “Find the Factual Error” with those statements, one would come up empty every time.

She didn’t say she hated black people. She didn’t say she found blackface to be hilarious. She didn’t even hint that sometimes at home alone in her Manhattan condo, she smears herself with black clown greasepaint, takes selfies, and sends them to all of her racist blonde friends. She merely stated that when she was a kid, a nationally famous TV personality couldn’t be fired for stating the truth about blackface.

The next day on her show, Kelly groveled, condemned the “history of blackface being used in awful ways by racists in this country,” and said she had no desire to add to the climate of “pain and offense” in which the nation currently writhes and flails. She also sat dutifully silent as two rude and uppity black journalists chastised her on her own freakin’ program.

But none of it mattered. She is no longer welcome at NBC. Fortunately, we’ve heard through the grapevine that the Daily Stormer is looking for freelance bloggers.

TV psychologist Dr. Phil McGraw looks like a balding dolphin with a 70s porn mustache. He is not above exploiting the pain and dysfunction of ordinary Americans in order to generate revenue for his spiritual master and suspected dominatrix Oprah Winfrey.

He recently profiled the dilemma of a black family whose 16-year-old daughter has the typically wacky black name of Treasure. Her mother Monique says that Treasure started having “issues with her race” at the tenderly chocolatey age of five:

She wouldn’t play with the black children. Treasure would mangle or destroy her black dolls. She would cut their heads off, pull off their arms. She would pretend that they were the white dolls’ slaves….My daughter is a racist against her own race….If you ask me, my 16-year-old daughter has a very out-of-control identity crisis. She truly believes she’s white.

Treasure confirms everything her wailin’ mama says and even takes it up a notch:

I’m white. I’m a Caucasian because everything about me is different from an African-American… When it comes to black people, I think they’re all ugly, and I have nothing in common with them… White people act and think just way more mature than African-Americans. Black people, they think in a criminal way… They’re really dangerous. If an African-American is on the same street as I am, I’ll cross the street to avoid their chaotic, thuggish ways.…African-Americans are loud, rude, obnoxious and just altogether fat and ugly.

In the tragic event that Vice President Mike Pence will no longer be with us in the year 2020, may we suggest this young lady as Donald Trump’s running mate?

Does anyone else get the feeling that Pope Francis should shut up about politics and wash more refugees’ feet instead? Everything out of his mouth these days suggests he’s a cyborg invented by tiny Chinese scientists receiving hush money from the Trilateral Commission.

The Pontiff recently referred to populism—which, as everyone knows, is any people’s movement that hasn’t been arranged and financed by leftist elites—led to Hitler and World War II and the savage execution of an estimated 666 gorillion sons and daughters of Abraham.

It’s time for this guy to bow out gracefully. What the world needs now is the papal equivalent of Donald Trump.

Speaking of Donald Trump, during his stunningly impressive and frankly aphrodisiacal presidential campaign, he terrified the human monstrosities who rule the world when he bemoaned “the false song of globalism.”

Now he’s finally come out of the global closet and confirmed that he is a globalist’s worst enemy—a nationalist. 
Speaking before yet another roaring crowd in Houston, Trump stood like a priapic rooster at the podium and declared:

You know, they have a word, it sort of became old-fashioned. It’s called a nationalist. And I say, ‘Really? We’re not supposed to use that word.’ You know what I am? I’m a nationalist. OK? I’m a nationalist…. A globalist is a person that wants the globe to do well, frankly not caring about our country so much. And, you know what? We can’t have that.

And this, dear cuddly readers, is why the Powers That Be seek to destroy him with the ferocity of neutered and bleeding ferrets. It has nothing to do with silly fluffy words such as racism or sexism or Islamophobia—it’s because he’s a nationalist.

Every Monday, Jim Goad reads the previous day’s “Week That Perished” on his podcast.

NEW YORK—In the dark she still looks good. The mystery and magnetism linger until dawn, and then you slowly see the lines and the harshness. Like a lady of the night who has smoked 10,000 cigarettes, the coming of the light is the enemy. New York ain’t what she used to be, that’s for sure. She’s a tired old place, with the upper-class vertical living gone to seed, and the honky-tonk fun side of the city gentrified and made boring. Michael Bloomberg as mayor did his best to ruin the glamour of the city, allowing glass behemoths to make the Chrysler Building, one of the world’s monuments to architectural brilliance, be buried amidst glass monstrosities. Bloomberg was and is a lowlife who knows how to count to 50 billion but couldn’t tell you Admiral Nelson’s Christian name if his miserable life depended on it. The present mayor, de Blasio, is a lowlife wop without the billions.

What happens in the sky is felt in the streets below. The once-exclusive Vanderbilt Avenue, where stores sold expensive tennis gear and hunting shotguns, is now a dark and dreary place, and just as well. The Vanderbilt was the hotel where the swells met—under the clock—since before Fitzgerald’s time and long past Taki’s. It was gone with the wind when Bloomberg types descended on the city like the northern jackals who went down south.

The tens of millions of tourists who come to the city have turned the place into Disneyland, with thousands upon thousands of obese men and women staring openmouthed at Trump Tower or Grand Central. Food vendors shunt people into the streets, Bengali taxi drivers honk their horns as if back home, and gumshoe cops are as rarely seen as the fuzz is in London town. No one walks the beat anymore, not even the hookers. Grand Central Terminal opened more than a century ago, and it is still the most beautiful railroad station ever. It was a welcoming public palace, and more movies were shot about heartbroken couples in Grand Central than CNN and The New York Times have broadcast and published false news. The vast, vaunted hall was a place anyone could visit, its inclusive grandeur welcoming the poorest and the richest. No longer. The man in the gray flannel suit who used it twice per business day no longer travels; he works on his computer at his suburban home. The gray-flannel-suit man of ’50s renown has been replaced by the hustler, the professional beggar, and the thug looking for trouble.

“No one walks the beat anymore, not even the hookers.”

Park Avenue has been rezoned, but its buildings are still stately and expensive. It’s the people who live in them that are the problem. They are very rich, but their manners are those of the carpetbagger. And they look even worse. No one wears suits or dresses nowadays. Men wear jeans and trainers, and women wear leggings. Oh yes, I almost forgot, no one speaks English anymore—in the street, that is, and I live on Park Avenue and 70th. Immigration from the southern part of the Americas began in earnest in 1965 and is now in full flow. Whites are a minority in the city, and most likely also in the state. Unlike the immigrant of times past who yearned to learn the language, these ones no speaka da Inglis. They don’t even try. Even my housekeeper, Margarita, who has been with me forty years, does not speak a word of you-know-what. There are Spanish channels on television, and every telephone message instructs one to push a button for Spanish. A large part of the police force is Hispanic, and the largest of the criminal gangs operating in the city are Dominican and Puerto Rican. Black New Yorkers have lost control of the heroin trade to Hispanics, but the black community is the largest recipient of that foul and evil drug.

New York used to be a sprawling Hopper painting: grand, sometimes melancholy, but golden. Newsstands and candy stores, diners and cinema palaces mixed headily with red-hued apartment houses laced with fire escapes. Beaux arts town houses and elegant co-ops lined the avenues on the Upper East and West Sides. Over the years the luncheonettes and candy stores came tumbling down, replaced by condos and office towers. It’s called progress. The longer one lives in New York, the more one loves the vanished city. It’s the same in London, but not Paris or Rome.

Fifty years ago last week, Aristotle Socrates Onassis married the most famous widow in the world, Jackie Kennedy, on Skorpios, his private island in the Ionian. The island is now owned by a Russian oligarch who keeps people out with dire warning signs on the beaches. I thought of Jackie last week as I passed 998 Fifth Avenue. 998 was developed by Jackie’s maternal grandfather in 1912. No one remembers Ari and Jackie anymore, nor does anyone notice 998 in particular. It is par for the course. Tall, slender, and glassy is the style nowadays, and I for one hate it, hate it, hate it. New York, New York, once upon a time a hell of a town.

My bank is large and I am small: Perhaps that is why it feels entitled to write to me so impertinently. I received a letter from it the other day with the heading “Some of your account information needs updating.”

My account information does not need anything; it is not the kind of entity that has needs. “It’s very important that all of the information we have about your business is up to date.” To whom is it important? Not to me, it isn’t. All I want is that the bank should operate an account on my behalf into which I can pay money in and out.

“This is to help us stop financial crime.” By that it presumably means financial crime not committed by itself, since earlier this year it was fined $2,000,000,000 for wrongdoing, only one of a succession of many such fines. (Of course, I also have my doubts about the probity of the authorities that levy the fines, which are a convenient way for governments to raise revenue without resorting to taxation.) I find it rather difficult, however, to imagine a financial criminal who was likely to be caught or even deterred as a result of filling in the form sent with the letter.

“What you need to do,” says the letter, addressing me in the tone of Richard III refusing the Duke of Buckingham’s request. “Complete the form…along with your supporting documentation…. You’ll need to complete ALL sections of the form and sign the ‘Declaration and signature’ section. We’ll be in touch if there’s anything else you need to do.” Finally, just to introduce a nice little touch of cognitive dissonance, “We’re here to help.”

It appears that, unbeknown to me, I was a very needy person. It so happens that on the day that I received the form from the bank—fillable online, of course—I received a form from my local council. “This form is not a registration form but you do need to complete it.” This would enable the council to know the persons in my house who were eligible to vote and “need to register.”

“‘You need to…’: That was the phrase that irritated me so profoundly.”

It seems that neither large corporations nor government agencies are able to make the distinction between “you need to” and “we require you to.” In the case of the council, at least, the menace was explicit: If I failed to fill the form, I could be fined £1,000. In the case of the bank, there was no explicit punishment for failure to fill its form, but on the other hand there was no real benefit offered, either, unlike the council form that told me that “Your vote matters,” and therefore “Don’t lose it.”

“You need to…”: That was the phrase that irritated me so profoundly. I need to get up in the morning, granted, and I need to put my socks on, I even need my cup of coffee, but I do not need to fill in forms. If the respective bullying organizations had only said, “We require you to…” I should not have gotten so worked up. It would have been a frank avowal of their power over me and not at all the mealymouthed pretense that it was for my own good, that some kind of benefit was being conferred by my needs having been met in complying with their demands.

I felt a little—though only a little—like Josef K. in Kafka’s The Trial:

Someone must have been telling lies about Josef K. because, although he knew that he had done nothing wrong, he was arrested one morning.

It was my birthday the next day and I received birthday wishes, mostly from organizations with which my relations are purely economic, Google among them. The space in which you type the object of your search was festooned with candles as on a birthday cake, and instead of the politically correct anniversary that is often commemorated, it wished me happy birthday. I caught myself thinking very briefly, “How kind!” until I pulled myself together and accepted that kindness had nothing to do with it, any more than a recorded message that your call is very important to us while you wait twenty minutes for a reply represents any personal solicitude for you on the part of the company that you are calling. On the contrary, what it means is that we (the company) have no intention of paying enough telephonists, thus reducing our profits, just to answer your footling inquiries.

Yesterday, for reasons too elaborate to go into, I tried to contact a government department that offers grants to organizations that want to pursue certain projects and seek subsidies. Irrespective of the effects of subsidies in general, I knew of an organization that was seeking a subsidy for something that I considered deleterious to the town in which I lived and wanted to make objection to it.

I found the website of the government department that hands out the subsidies, but there was no means of communicating with it except by applying to it for a grant. It had no address, postal or e-mail, and no telephone number. Although it was only a department, the website did not say what it was a department of.

In other words, it handed out grants to applicants, but only at its own discretion. Its power was (in its own small corner of the world) absolute. It gave no clue as to the criteria it used in choosing the applicants to subsidize; the public had no say in its deliberations. The public’s only relationship with it was to pay its taxes, from which the subsidies it granted were drawn. The impression given was of a bureaucratic Peronism—Eva-Peronism, that is. (In my childhood, the name of Eva Perón meant only those Argentinean stamps that bore her picture, and I thought her the most beautiful woman in the world.)

For a few moments I was furious, but then dinner called, I went out with a friend, and equanimity returned. The nibbling away of our freedom is possible because of our ability—by no means entirely to be despised—to retreat into a world of private pleasure.

On Sunday, just before their teams squared off in South Philly, Carolina Panthers safety Eric Reid confronted Philadelphia Eagles safety Malcolm Jenkins. Television footage showed an angry Reid in Jenkins’ face, using language that was certainly unkind.

According to Reid, Jenkins—the founder of the NFL Players Coalition—used the protest movement started by Colin Kaepernick to advance his own interests. Said Reid after the game:

I believe Malcolm capitalized on the situation—he co-opted the movement that was started by Colin to get his organization funded. It’s cowardly, he sold us out.

[Jenkins] was corrupt from the jump. He knew what he was doing. His goal was to sell us out and he did that.

In stark contrast, Jenkins was gracious and high-minded toward the man who had attributed such a low motive to him:

You couldn’t pay me to say anything negative about them. I look around the league and I’m proud of guys that are active in their communities, that are using their voice as a platform like never before—including Colin and including Eric. I think he deserves to have a job in this league, I’m glad that he does have one. I think that his talent is speaking for itself. I think his stance is the only reason he was not in the league.

Though a fine player, Reid was signed to a one-year contract just last month, having been an unemployed free agent for the previous six months. The reason, many believe, is that the NFL didn’t want anything to do with the bad publicity his protests generated.

Like his friend Colin Kaepernick, with whom he shares a pair of attorneys, Reid has filed a grievance against the NFL. The league’s owners, he alleges, “colluded” to keep him off the field. Like your grandmother when she got chicken pox, the owners were influenced by President Trump, according to Reid.

For me, this is a millennial-all-too-millennial story. A couple of men alienate their employers and potential employers, and so wind up out of the league. Instead of learning a lesson, they claim to be victims. Nor is that a wonder, seeing as such behavior is often rewarded.

It is interesting that the arbiter of Reid’s grievance is University of Pennsylvania law professor Stephen Burbank. Last year, Burbank was one of 33 UPenn law professors who, with that cheap moral smugness that comes effortlessly to American academics, signed an open letter condemning their colleague Amy Wax. You see, unlike good scholarly cattle, Wax dares to believe that “all cultures are not equal.” Rather than argue against that formidable advocate for “the bourgeois script,” these professors took the easy, pseudo-moral route. I wrote about the controversy at length, and from what I know of Burbank, I’d expect him to rule in Reid’s favor.

Let’s get back to Reid and Jenkins. Marcel Louis-Jacques, writing in The Charlotte Observer about their differences, reports:

Both players speak against similar issues—including systemic oppression within the United States’ criminal justice system and inequalities within the nation’s educational system….

“Like many people who are neither very intelligent nor very well-informed, professional athletes are readily exploited by Democrat politicians.”

That’s not to say Reid and Jenkins always saw eye-to-eye. While Reid, Kaepernick and dozens of other NFL players opted to kneel during the national anthem, Jenkins instead raised his fist in the air.

Reid took that as a sign Jenkins had the league’s best interests at heart, not the protesters’. When Jenkins asked the Players Coalition if it would consider ending its protests if the NFL donated money to causes important to coalition members, Reid hit his breaking point and left the group.

Of the two men, Jenkins’ conduct clearly has been the more admirable. As we’ve seen, he didn’t respond to Reid’s personal attack with one of his own. And what is far more important, he tried to end the protests.

By contrast, Reid—who’s never engaged Jenkins in a substantive manner concerning their differences—seems not to have even considered that the NFL may not be the proper medium for airing his political opinions. So too, he seems not to realize that NFL owners are surely within their rights if, in view of his egregious behavior, they choose not to employ him. This year Reid will earn a little under 1.7 million dollars. For all that, he doesn’t keep his mouth shut about subjects he obviously doesn’t understand.

Of course, in itself Reid’s attack on Jenkins is trivial and not worthy of attention. Its interest lies in the fact that these days, professional athletes are more and more useful idiots for the Democratic Party. Like many intellectuals, professional athletes tend to think that unequal outcomes signify “systemic oppression.” But like many intellectuals, they don’t inquire rigorously into contexts. So they don’t know, for instance, that the popular narrative about murderous cops and innocent black victims doesn’t withstand scrutiny.

Relative to their percentage of the national population, a disproportionate number of young black men are shot and killed by police. It’s little known, however, that, like their incarceration rates, this is perfectly consistent with the disproportionate number of violent crimes committed by young black men. In fact, given that “racial disparity,” which no one is supposed to talk about, it would be quite strange if the other “racial disparity,” so very controversial, didn’t exist. Moreover, however counterintuitive it may be for many, police are much more likely to be shot and killed by young black men than vice versa.

I don’t mean to imply that young black men or blacks in general are not still victims of racism in some instances, nor that these persons are not sometimes unjustly killed by police. My point, again, is that the popular narrative about murderous cops and innocent black victims is false. The reality is much more complicated—and politically incorrect—than that.

Despite slavery and Jim Crow, there has been a lot of progress for blacks in this country. Still, owing largely to group differences, inequalities—which are not the same thing as injustices—remain. And on the whole, understanding these is a very difficult business. Indeed, it is a huge problem for democracy in general that, while we all are creatures of passion, very willing to interpret events in a manner that suits our own moral psychology, there are relatively few people who think well and who are willing and able to inquire into complex contexts with disinterestedness. Time and time again we see mankind believe what they want to believe independent of the facts in question. This seems remarkable, and yet, since the mind is by its very nature a self-interested, functional thing, it is perfectly natural, although hardly good news for anyone who values rational, fair-minded government.

Then too, given the overwhelmingly biased, dishonest, and incompetent media, it is only too easy for people to believe the moralistic simplifications that are constantly disseminated. In this regard sportswriters are predictably baleful. Turn on ESPN and lo, there they are, those squeaky-voiced, effeminate liberal men offering their worthless two cents on “racial inequality.” (So faithful are these spineless bores that Rich Lowry, Ben Shapiro, and other lefty hacks may wish to recruit them for Conservatism Inc.)

Like many people who are neither very intelligent nor very well-informed, professional athletes are readily exploited by Democrat politicians, who are nothing if not cynical. When President Trump invited the Eagles to the White House after the team won the Super Bowl, several players made it clear that they wanted nothing to do with the man. Ever pugnacious, Trump withdrew the invitation, getting into one of his familiar war of words. No doubt many blacks, observing the affair, thought to themselves: “All the more reason to vote against that racist.”

Meanwhile, wherever Democrats have long been in power, we find that, thanks to their policies, blacks are worse off than they are elsewhere. It is so here in the City of Brotherly Love, for example. Only New York City and Chicago have more blacks, yet unlike those cities, Philly is and has long been the poorest big city in the country.

One night in July, a 27-year-old white man named Sean Schellenger and two other white men were driving through an alley in the affluent Rittenhouse Square section of the city. Having got stuck in traffic, they got out of the car in order to get a driver in front of them to move. Then the group encountered a bicycle courier. If you’ve spent much time in Philly, what happened next probably won’t surprise you: An argument broke out, it turned physical, and the person on the bicycle, a 20-year-old black man with a long rap sheet named Michael White, fatally stabbed Schellenger. (His death occurred in an unusually violent period in the city, 46 people being shot in the first ten days of July alone, according to police statistics.)

For Larry Krasner, America’s most progressive district attorney, this tragic event became an occasion for realizing his general social justice agenda. Television footage of White’s preliminary hearing showed Krasner comforting White’s mother. Not Schellenger’s mother, but White’s. Asked why he was there, Krasner told reporters that he wanted to make sure White was treated fairly (read: that he got as little time as possible). It was as if Krasner had no clue who the actual victim was. Needless to say, such behavior is only to be expected from a longtime public defender whose DA campaign was funded by George Soros.

In a statement to ABC, Linda Schellenger, Sean Schellenger’s mother, said the truth about Krasner:

He was intellectually dishonest. He overruled his own prosecutors. They have clear video footage that would have allowed them to hold [White] on murder 1 and no bail. Larry showed up at a preliminary hearing, which is rare, to grandstand for political purposes. My son has become his political pawn. I wanted to trust him. He breached and abused that trust.

Blacks in Philly are fond of Krasner, who, like his fellow cuck mayor Jim Kenney, is all about reforming the “racist” criminal justice system and keeping ours “a sanctuary city” for “undocumented immigrants.”

It goes without saying that such inept leadership at the highest level does nothing to help blacks or anyone else. As long as you seek to pardon people where personal reform is needed, they have every reason to continue to err.

Incidents like Sean Schellenger’s death, being underreported, are far more prevalent than most people know. Blacks commit crimes against whites—especially violent ones—at far higher rates than whites do against blacks.

Whether any black NFL players are aware of that, I don’t know. At any rate, to my knowledge none has ever spoken the complete truth about those thorny subjects, crime and race and the police. As things are, these rich and increasingly vociferous athletes appear likely to continue to use their considerable influence to help elect the party that is so harmful to blacks in general.

Thus Democrats, and their globalist donors, are able to live well, while blacks on the whole continue to struggle. As a great philosopher once said, folly is its own burden.

In an ominous, landlocked, real-life version of the dystopian novel The Camp of the Saints, the refugees are coming en masse. They started as a group of 160. Within days there were ten times as many. As of this writing, an estimated 14,000 Central American migrants are walking in a caravan that started in Honduras and intends to illegally cross the US/Mexico border in Texas.

Honduras is a country of 9.4 million people. For the past few years it has had one of the world’s highest homicide rates. About two thirds of its residents make about $2 per day. They’re coming to America for a better life, but are they bringing a far worse life along with them?

On October 12, Vice President Mike Pence urged the presidents of El Salvador, Guatemala, and Honduras—three of the world’s most violent nations—to urge their citizens to stay put:

Tell your people: Don’t put your families at risk by taking the dangerous journey north to attempt to enter the United States illegally.

The caravan formed the next day and began heading north to attempt to enter the United States illegally.

According to some reports, the caravan was organized by a “human rights group” named Pueblo Sin Fronteras, which apparently doesn’t recognize the rights of humans in the United States not to pay for unwanted interlopers. Rodrigo Abeja, a member of the group, denies their role in arranging the caravan: “The organizer of this caravan is number one hunger, two death.”

Abeja acknowledges that Republicans are using images of this looming brown wave of scofflaws as PR for the upcoming midterm elections, but he doesn’t care about drunken white people who watch TV:

It’s more important to accompany the caravan…than worry about white voters, sitting in front of their TVs drinking beer.

Did you hear that, white voters? Peel yourself away from your TVs on November 6 and make sure to vote.

(LINKS: 1, 2, 3, 4)

A bus carrying migrants in the western province of Izmir swerved to avoid another vehicle and plunged 65 feet into an irrigation canal, killing 22—including two children, two babies, and a pregnant woman—and injuring 13 others. Many Turkish migrants are headed to Greece and elsewhere in Europe to culturally enrich people and, hopefully, open spicy new restaurants.


Spain—which has become a refugee dumping ground ever since other European nations such as Hungary and Italy got wise and started rejecting them—is now pleading with the EU to give more financial aid to Morocco so bloodthirsty African Muslims who are aided across the Mediterranean by criminal syndicates don’t bankrupt their country. In October the EU tossed $275 million to Morocco to keep Moroccans in Morocco, but apparently it’s not nearly enough. Moroccan officials say that in 2017, they prevented 65,000 migrants from sailing toward Europe but claim they need more money to stanch the flow.

“They’re coming to America for a better life, but are they bringing a far worse life along with them?”


Unlike most countries across the globe—in fact, nearly all others—Israel is an ethnostate that reserves the right to decide who’s Jewish and who isn’t. The Ethiopian Falashmura community claim to be Jewish, but the Israeli government says, “Nah,” meaning they have no right under the Law of Return to just sashay into the volatile little New Jersey-sized Middle Eastern ethnostate. As a compromise, a way of throwing these African Jews a bone, the Israeli government recently approved a plan to bring 1,000 Falashmurans to Israel out of a grand total of 8,000. These 1,000 people already have relatives in Israel. Meanwhile, the 7,000 Falashmurans who remain in Ethiopia will be forced to eat rocks and swat at flies all the livelong day.


A glowing newspaper profile of refugees—is there any other kind of newspaper profile of refugees in the modern American mainstream press?—says a massive holding facility of minors in the Texas town of Tornillo often resembles a “giant slumber party” with “Flowers made of plastic bottles, chains of colorful construction paper and pictures of Disney princesses stripped from coloring books.”

Another glowing newspaper profile says that migrants “harvest our food, but risk labor trafficking,” as if we’re supposed to simultaneously feel thankful and ashamed. It alleges that there are roughly one million migrant workers here illegally, but instead it focuses on their suffering and hardships and never once suggests they should feel thankful and ashamed.

Yet another glowing newspaper profile concerns American designer Anna Meddaugh, who has designed a “personal urinal that women in refugee camps can use in shelters at night to avoid the threat of sexual violence outside.” She calls it the “Night Loo” and touts it as a safe alternative for women and girls in refugee camps who want to pee at night but are afraid of being raped if they dared venture out to the Port-A-Pottys:

The circumstances within refugee camps can lead to unimaginable choices, having to weigh the likelihood of getting attacked and raped while making your way to the toilet, versus suffering through the night or possibly even soiling yourself….Imagine being faced with this choice every night.

Hey, as stark as it sounds, at least they have a choice. American citizens, at least for the time being, have no choice but to accept refugees.

(LINKS: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Apparently there’s a huge business in trafficking Moroccan migrants across the Mediterranean on speedboats headed for Spain.

In one incident last month, the Moroccan Royal Navy fired at one of these speedboats and killed one student and wounded three others.

In a separate incident, a 16-year-old boy was wounded in the shoulder after the Moroccan Royal Navy fired at a speedboat containing more than 50 illegal immigrants. According to one source, “the suspicious motorboat that was carrying 58 migrants hidden under tarpaulin made a hostile maneuver which significantly threatened the safety of the navy team and forced them to fire a shot to immobilize it.”

It’s a pity that none of these migrants will make it to Spain and start raping people.


In the northern Italian town of Legnago, “an inebriated Moroccan migrant” commandeered a bus and led police on a miles-long chase, crashing into parked cars, fire hydrants, and even scraping a few houses along the way. He was finally stopped by a blockade as he smashed straight into a parked police car, which then smashed into another nearby car. One woman and four police were injured in the crash. The Moroccan is being charged with attempted murder, property damage, resistance of arrest, and aggravated injuries to a public official. He has previous convictions for brawling, theft, and vandalism. Only half an hour before his rampage, he had been arrested for public intoxication but had been set loose by hapless and clueless officials.


The Australian government has produced ads in Portuguese and Spanish throughout Latin America telling would-be migrants “There is a place for you in Melbourne.” According to Victorian Minister for Small Business, Innovation and Trade Philip Dalidakis, the campaign was launched because Donald Trump is a big fat meanie:

The reason we started this campaign … is because of the Trump administration, because of the very negative connotation that President Trump has had in many countries…. When you treat people with disrespect…I’m only too happy to extend the hand of friendship to Mexicans to demonstrate the opportunities that they would have here in Australia, but more importantly in Victoria, be in through international education, or through export markets.

Mr. Dalidakis, you deserve to be treated with disrespect.


A bus accident in northern Greece recently collided head-on with another vehicle, bursting into flames and killing 11 migrants. As in the aforementioned Turkish bus crash, the driver escaped without major injuries.

In Thessaloniki, hundreds of illegal migrants, most from Iraq and Iran, have lined up in front of a police station, seeking to be arrested so that they can file asylum applications. Whereas they had mostly been content during the summer to sleep in public parks, winter weather is approaching.

A doctor who visited a Syrian refugee camp on the Isle of Lesbos describes the horrors he saw:

There’s no hope left. They’re hopeless. The despair is so thick you can cut it with a knife. “At night it’s like living in a dystopian novel. The residents are terrified. At night, the violence begins….Every day they would bring in kids who’d cut themselves. Classic cutting to relieve anxiety….This is what happens when you lose all hope and you’ve got so much pain inside.

(LINKS: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5)

The Japanese, who have one of the world’s strictest immigration policies and don’t seem to care what people call them as a result, have finally caved to international pressure.

They have promised that by the year 2020, they will double the number of refugees they accept.

In that year, they promise to take in a whopping grand total of sixty refugees.

Would that everyone was as wise as the Japanese.


AUSTIN—I think I have to boycott Kimberly-Clark.

I’m sorry, guys. I know you’re a $46 billion company with 43,000 employees doing business in 175 countries, so obviously this is gonna be rough on your Corporate Social Compliance division (yes, that’s a thing). I doubt you have the resources to withstand a concentrated social media campaign conducted by the Drive-In Movie Critic of Grapevine, Texas.

But sometimes you just have to take a stand.

Last week Kimberly-Clark announced that they would no longer market “Mansize” Kleenex, a product they’ve sold since 1956 and which continues to be popular with millions of man-sized people around the world.

“Mansize” means a big soft fluffy Kleenex, bigger than normal Kleenex, because you just might be a messier-than-average person. It was invented in the Kimberly-Clark laboratories in Neenah, Wisconsin, as an alternative to the cotton handkerchief most men in the 1950s kept in their jacket pocket, a practice that would today be considered unhygienic and was always bordering on gross.

Women never kept a cotton handkerchief in their jacket pocket or in any other pocket.

At any rate, 62 years after its introduction, someone started a social media campaign to hammer Kimberly-Clark for being sexist. Why is a big fluffy Kleenex called “Mansize” when—and this is the remarkable part—maybe women are bigger than men? When enough Twitter and Instagram and Facebook accounts ended up dogpiling the company for enough days, there was a strange announcement out of Kimberly-Clark headquarters in the city of Irving, Texas, which, by the way, shares a border with Grapevine, so you can already see how nasty this is gonna get.

“Mansize” was history, said the Social Compliance experts at Kimberly-Clark. Henceforth the big fluffy Kleenex would be called “Extra Large.” They didn’t give a reason. The statement was, in fact, kind of sheepish in the rationale department, especially since the “Mansize” brand had served the company so well.

Before I go into the specific reasons for my Kimberly-Clark boycott, I would like to analyze the word “Mansize” as it relates to gender discrimination.

“I don’t want to do business with a company that can’t be trusted to stand by its own version of the truth even when it’s scientifically provable.”

There are 193 nations in the world. (There are actually 195, but we don’t have stats on Palestine or Vatican City.)

Of those nations, the number of places where the average woman is taller than the average man is—let’s see, let me triple-check these numbers so that we can be absolutely truthful, carry the 5, take it out to the third decimal point—okay, I’ve got it, that number would be…


I mean, there’s one country that comes close. In Nigeria, men have an average height of 167 centimeters (a shade under 5 foot 6), while women average 160 centimeters (right at 5 foot 3). In Ireland, on the other hand, the ratio is 179 to 163, meaning the men are 5′ 10″ and the women are 5′ 4″. The United States, which has citizens born in all 195 nations, is more or less representative:

Men: 176 centimeters, or a little over 5 foot 9.

Women: 160 centimeters, or 5 foot 3.

In other words, men appear to be, uh, man-sized.

Of course, height is not the only standard of man-size. Since North America is the fattest region on the planet (177-pound average weight and rising, compared with the global average of 136), we would certainly need to take girth into consideration when predicting which gender is most likely to need a man-sized Kleenex.

Once again, let’s take a look at those 193 nations and determine which ones have an average female weight greater than the average male weight. That number would be…



In the United States, the average guy weighs 196 pounds, the average gal 168. Actually, the average American woman now weighs as much as the average American man did in 1965, so I hope the Mansize Kleenex has been bulked up over the last five decades. Perhaps the outraged feminists who protested against the word “Mansize” were weighing in above 196 themselves and felt belittled by being lumped in with another gender.

The bottom line is that no one has to worry about it anymore because, like most corporations that find themselves targeted by an idiotic social media campaign, the solution chosen here was simply to give the idiots what they wanted.

I’m not sure what the standard algorithm is—9,000 likes on Twitter? Five thousand reposts on Facebook? Thirty mocking mash-ups of a Kleenex box on Instagram?—but whenever the protest hits critical mass, the solution is always to publicly abase yourself and say, “Yes, indeed, you were right, please spend the day pumping your fists and high-fiving one another because you have forced us to abandon a brand we’ve stood by for 62 years.”

And that’s why I’m announcing my boycott of Kimberly-Clark. I don’t want to do business with a company that can’t be trusted to stand by its own version of the truth even when it’s scientifically provable. This is a company that deals in chemical processes, forestry, manufacturing, and the safety of the world’s lower bodies. (Almost all their products—Huggies, Depends, Kotex, twelve brands of toilet paper—deal with sensitive areas below the waist.) Don’t we want these guys to be ruthlessly scientific so that their product is efficient and safe? How can we trust them if somebody simply says, “Men aren’t bigger than women,” over and over until they become exasperated and say, “Okay, you’re right, men and women are the same size”? Who wants a scientist who can be beaten into submission so that he changes his opinion?

But there’s an even more important reason. Every time a company craters on a silly issue like this, it encourages 17,000 more internet trolls with time on their hands to start a campaign against tomorrow’s bogeymen. One day it’s plastic straws, the next day it’s Kleenex, the day after that it’s Dr. Seuss books—eating up everyone’s time, making our economy less efficient, turning truth into an elastic toy that can be smashed into any shape you want.

Kimberly-Clark is an enabler. A troll enabler. A busybody enabler. An enabler of public scolds and annoying grandstanders.

An enabler of Stupidity.

Hence the Stupidity Boycott. I’ll be adding other companies to the list and recruiting an army of rationalists as we try to reclaim the internet.

Meanwhile, I have my eye on Klucze, the best-selling facial tissue in Poland. It’s owned by Kimberly-Clark. That means they have one more chance to get off the boycott list. They can tell the men of Poland that there is indeed a concept called “man-sized.” It means bigger than women. It’s something they understand in Warsaw, unlike Irving, Texas.