Miranda, amanda — and dux femina facti, you damn betcha.

La Divina Sara

It will surprise none of you, candid readers, that la divina Sara‘s new memoir Going Rogue: An American Life, with six weeks to go before release date, has already rocketed to number one on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Yes, Governor Palin, that most potent mixture of Laura Ingalls Wilder, Magna Mater and Britomart, to name just a few of her coruscating personae, is a rock star, who leaves bourgeoise hags like Miss Hell Obomber and lumpen lesbians like Hillary Clinton in the dust.  She’s a scintillating ball of energy and blooming good health — in addition to being a blend of William Jennings Bryan and Robert Alphonso Taft, of blessed Old America memory — and she could draw 50,000 people to the opening of a hardware store, on an hour’s notice.

Beat that, Barack Hussein Ogabe, you gangling, crack-smoking pimp.  But then, I guess there are no chapters in Alinsky for dealing with forces of nature.  The affirmative-action incompetent in the White House and his loathsome Chicago handlers are way out of their depth dealing with Palin, as we saw last fall when her mesmerizing speech at the Republican National Convention sent Ogabe’s Potemkin village campaign into a tailspin (rescued, just in the nick of time, by the spectacular collapse of the Federal Reserve’s stock-jobbing house of cards).

Herewith, therefore, a link to SarahPAC, where you can donate a few Yankee dollars to our first female President’s political action committee, as I did this afternoon — yes, my widow’s mite goes to Sarah, and cheerfully done:

http://sarahpac.com/

I trust Gov. Palin will continue to be the focus of support not only for us Constitutionalists, populists, paleoconservatives, libertarians, and values voters, but also for all you Republicans of good will out there who think McCain, Grahamnesty and Lamar Alexander (the last two voted to confirm Red Sonia Sotomayor) and the rest of those country-club Viagravators should get bent.

lindsey-graham1

Grahamnesty : Does the depilated old queen imagine that thin, tight rictus passes for a smile? And that porcine nose, as though he were constantly scenting his own sulphurous fart.  Would that Mencken were living at this day, to satirize this high prole come up in the world, or better yet Catullus, with his Celtiberian nouveaux riches proudly showing their teeth on the slightest pretext, freshly brushed with Spanish piss.

Speaking of country clubs, the principle-free zone that is Mitt “Stop Me if You’ve Heard Me Deny the Divinity of Christ Before” Romney, and the rest of the Grand Old Plutocrats, better be nice to Sarah. Remember the last banker with a personality bypass who crossed us and thought he could still be president? The one defeated by Perot and succeeded by Clinton?

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I sent the man $100 during the ’08 primaries, and I’d do it again.

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CNN quotes Gov. Huckabee making some sharp remarks in California on the stupidity of chasing social conservatives from the GOP.  The occasion?  Per CNN:

“On Saturday, three prominent GOP leaders — Rep. Eric Cantor, former Florida Gov. Jeb Bush, and former Massachusetts Gov. Mitt Romney — kicked off a campaign to reshape their party’s image, gathering at a restaurant in northern Virginia for the first of a series of town hall meetings. The goal of the initiative, called the National Council for a New America, is to connect Republican leaders with voters across the country to help get the party’s electoral fortunes back on track.”

Aha.  So while the Three Stooges roll out an astroturf welcome mat to a bunch of phantom swing voters, the amoral and mercenary lot who swung the election to B. Hussein Obama last fall, Huck’s smart enough to campaign for real Republican votes three years early, in small media markets like the Central Valley.  (He gave the quoted interview to the Visalia (California) Times-Delta.)  That’s what’s known as building your grassroots.

Like him or not, Republicans, the man has natural charm, a direct conduit to millions through his Fox News TV show, and can campaign rings around the wooden Romney, a Brylcreemed plutocrat who’s about as appealing as a tubal ligation.  And am I the only Palin/McCain voter who doesn’t give a tinker’s damn what Jeb Bush thinks, about anything? Advice from yet a third Bush when the first two each put a Democrat in the White House?  Aw hell no.

But here’s Governor Huckabee in his own shrewd words:

“Throw the social conservatives the pro-life, pro-family people overboard and the Republican party will be as irrelevant as the Whigs,” he said in reference to the American political party that largely disbanded in the mid 1800s.

“They’ll basically be a party of gray-haired old men sitting around the country club puffing cigars, sipping brandy and wondering whatever happened to the country. That will be the end of the party,” he said in the interview published Thursday.

That’s a polite, politic way of hinting to the socially-liberal moneybags who have hitherto funded and expected to control the GOP: Screw us on social issues just one more time, and conservatives will bloody bolt your wretched party; we’ll build a populist free-enterprise party with Tea Party, Reagan and other working-class white Democrats.  Whether that new party wins outright in 2012, or instead delivers the 2012 election to Obama, the GOP as party of big finance and, after eight years of Bush II, big government will go the way of the dodo — or as Huck puts it, with his lovable gift for recalling Old America’s history, the Whigs.

Does Huck have a leg to stand on?  Well now, let’s see: the hard-core base of the GOP have been since Nixon’s 1968 realignment Christian, especially evangelical Protestant, conservatives.  So now we’re to take advice on how to screw over and turn off that base from:

1. Mitt Romney, that most incongruous of things yoked by violence together, a Wall Street Mormon;

2. Jeb Bush, a man on the liberal fringe of the Roman Catholic Church (modernist American Catholics voted enthusiastically for Obama and are about as popular with the Vatican and the rest the Church as an ill-coiffed lesbian Methodist preacheress from Minneapolis); and

3. Eric Cantor, a young Jewish congressman who, in addition to still being soaking wet behind the ears, has a loyal national following of… the Republicans in his own Virginia district.

Do you begin to see the GOP’s brilliant strategic gifts?  The ones that led John McAmnesty to support the unconstitutional bailouts last fall when, opposing them, he might have ridden Main Street’s anger at Wall Street to victory?  Huck’s just speaking a little home truth on electoral math here; it’s not for nothing that the GOP was dubbed, by one of its most astute and acrid critics from the right, the late Sam Francis of Chronicles Magazine, “the stupid party.” As the Carolingian French said of the Vikings, “From the fury of the Republicans deliver us, O Lord!”

So in a word, conservatives, Huck makes a vital point: Drive a hard bargain with these Wall Street and suburban seculars who want their taxes cut but think you, your manufacturing job, and our historically European Christian culture are negotiable if they can “broaden” the GOP to be “inclusive.”  Whom must we include?  Amnestied illegal aliens on the dole, selfish white ladies who abort Baby because he’ll get in the way of tennis lessons, and a congeries of Prozacked, casually-sexed twenty-somethings (and their bovine bullhorn in the media, Meghan McCain) who think sodomy needs to become a sacrament, and pronto, or else representative government will collapse about our ears.  The new, rebranded GOP, eh?  Include me out.

And now, HotAir’s Allahpundit reports, Huck’s being echoed in some unlikely quarters, like the ebullient Zo of ZoNation fame — who, despite what liberal Republicans like Jeb Bush and Twit Romney hallucinate over G&Ts at the country club, is quite typical of social conservatives’ racial and generational diversity.  Zo’s now posted another of his sharply-observed monologues, and this time it’s “to the lantern with the RINOs”:

Amen.

Arsehole babies separated at birth: Backstabber Arlen Specter…

specter

and backshooter Phil Spector.

US Phil Spector Trial

Sen. Arlen Specter (R-PA), who uncannily resembles his undead namesake, convicted murderer Phil Spector, has announced he’ll turn his coat and be a Dhimmicrat now, as preliminary polls showed him getting destroyed by Pat Toomey in next year’s Pennsylvania Republican primary.

My tears flow like a river — all crocodile.

Dry your eyes, Wall Street Republicans; the weak old temporizer couldn’t even be bothered to vote against Obama’s hideous porkulus bill, among many other measures hostile to your capitalist interest.  And rejoice fellow conservatives, who hold our noses tightly and vote Republican because they’re not quite as far to the secular Left as Democrats: Specter was an orthodox liberal on abortion, homosexual “marriage” and other desiderata, and will live in infamy as a Republican betrayer who kept Robert Bork, the most learned jurist of our time, off the Supreme Court.

Naturally country-club Republicans, and the leftie MSM who love to interview them on these occasions, are in emotional tatters over Specter’s little tempest in a teacup.  Woe is the GOP, they cry, rending their garments and smiting their bosoms like some less-talented Vivien Leigh opposite Clark Gable.  What ever shall we do to win elections again?  Where ever shall we go to cobble together an electoral majority?

Here’s a hint, idiots: Stop trying to outpander the Democrats.  Return to the Reaganite fiscal discipline and social conservatism that used to win national elections, and big.  Even now, with the likes of grey, pudgy, and patently unappealing Mitch McConnell and John Boehner heading the GOP in Congress, Rasmussen reports Republicans lead Democrats 41%-38% on the generic Congressional ballot, a mere 100 days into Obama’s reign of error.  Well, well, well.

Conservatives, the GOP may yet be worth our time, with good riddance to bad rubbish like Arlen Specter. Don’t waste a moment’s ire on political whores who sell to the highest bidder; Specter’s thirty pieces of Democrat silver won’t get him far.  Far better to have your enemy out in the open, where you can see him, than constantly fearing his knife in the back you know not when.

In a word, candid readers: FAT.  That, and the fact that Carrie’s upright in both senses: full of moral probity, and tall as a willow tree, to May-gun’s squat, dumpy barrel cactus.

Yes, Carrie Prejean, Miss California who “chose truth over a tiara” in Maggie Gallagher’s words, is the Queen Esther of her times, physically lovely but discreet too, willing to put herself on the line to speak truth to power:

Contrast this, candid reader, with the bovine eructations of Meghan McCain, as likely to shoot from the lip as her amnesty-crazed father but, incredible as it may seem, even more ethically challenged than the old Keating Five womanizer himself:

How dare this dumpy cow lumber onto a national stage, belching and farting her country-club Republican twaddle to any leftie who’ll book her on his show, especially looking like that?  (You know the country-clubbers’ pious mantra: Cut my taxes — but keep abortion legal so my slut daughter can fornicate consequence-free.)  I thought she’d learned from the scars earned in her battle of the wits, though sadly unarmed, with Ann Coulter and Laura Ingraham, like that gaping new one ripped between her ass’s ears.  How do I detest thee, Meghan?  Let me count the ways…  I can’t do better here than quote the patron sage of this blog, Jonathan Swift, describing female horse’s asses who try to impress beyond their abilities:

Some try to learn polite Behaviour,
By reading Books against their Saviour;
Some call it witty to reflect
On ev’ry natural Defect…
But, sure a Tell-tale out of School
Is of all Wits the greatest Fool;
Whose rank Imagination fills,
Her Heart, and from her Lips distills;
You’d think she utter’d from behind,
Or at her Mouth was breaking Wind.

(Strephon and Chloe, 1731)

Oral wind-breaking — yes, that pretty well sums up May-gun McLame.  Back to your stall now, Old Bossy, and give that flapping jaw, and your sorely overtaxed hooves, a rest.

Meanwhile, why exactly is ass-ugly gossip blogger Perez Hilton allowed even to enter the presence of gracile beauties like Carrie Prejean, let alone question them?  Does anyone who doesn’t huff amyl nitrite even know who this coarse little scrub is?  Doubtless spawned in some estaminet of Huntington Park, a coffee shop drudge or simpering bag boy at Gelson’s until last week, Perez is stunted and beetle-browed, like so much East Side ethnojetsam washed up on the kosher West Bank of L.A., lately gone from working the corners of Santa Monica Boulevard on to modest fame among homosexuals.  Yes, look closely at the face: the joke stage name conceals low peasant origins, probably one generation removed from an auto body shop on Washington Boulevard, two from some shithole jacal in Jalisco.   Hardly a eugenic or edifying specimen, before one even gets to the illiteracy and repulsive Gay Mart couture.  Indeed, the little pouf’s relentlessly pinched face and lemony sneer suggest a shredded or prolapsed anus, or some kindred sodomite ailment — you see what happens when you shove Coke bottles, various combinations of your own digits, and multiple strangers’ penile Petri dishes up your backside on a nightly, drug-fueled basis.

Bra-less wonder Perez Hilton before emergency makeover: What shat that?

perehiltongettingsued

That’s precisely why bourgeois liberals’ push for homosexual “marriage” is such a joke — “gay” and “marriage” are contradictions in terms, as every candid queer from Mark Simpson to Camille Paglia has observed, and not just because marriage originated as a sacred union framed for the procreation and protection of children.  Everybody who’s not a Prozacked white lady in the Seattle suburbs, dutifully twitching when the Obamatards pull her strings, knows gay men are polygamous almost to a man.  No matter what claims they make in public about their “relationships,” they are except in rare cases industriously promiscuous unless body fat, clock-stopping ugliness or some other structural flaw precludes it, as with blobby toad Perez.

This is not speculation, friends — though a strict celibate myself, my oldest and dearest friends are two gay men, as are a constellation of lesser friends and acquaintances, and believe me, they bear me out unerringly.  Nor, I might add, do very many of them buy into this manipulative liberal “gay marriage” schtick.  Gay men of all people know that male lust, freed of any limits in female reticence, is for all practical purposes unbounded; it drives unerringly for the maximum number of sexual partners, stopping only when structurally limited by the physical exhaustions of age, disease or both.  Nor, they’ve told me for years, would they want it to be; it’s precisely their hedonist, libertine refusal of respectable social norms — the self-restraint and voluntary sacrifice needed for the protection and procreation of women and children — that keeps the gaiety in gayness for them.

And I’m not just picking on the gays here.  Consistent reactionary that I am, I zealously assert divorce must be illegal except in cases of proven adultery; separation, perhaps, but rupturing a sacramental union, never.  “Husband and wife are one body in the same way as Christ and the Father are one.”  (St John Chrysostom) And hetero fornicating is quite out of the question too, as is indeed marital intercourse not open to the transmission of life.

Get with the program, self-described Christians: either human beings wholly own their bodies and can use them any way we damned well please — or not.  Half-measures and casuistry, the hypocrisy of “Christians” who condemn homosexual acts while having hetero sex for pleasure, are just intellectual and moral flab — be for real:

The unitive aspect of sexual love, therefore, is a blessed and joyful corollary to procreation.  It is a gift for which we can rejoice and give thanks.  It is so, however, only inasmuch as it derives from the more fundamental purpose of Christian marriage, which is to participate directly in God’s creative work through the bearing and raising of children.

(Very Rev. John Breck, The Sacred Gift of Life: Orthodox Christianity and Bioethics, 90)

So is marriage a sacred institution framed to hallow the procreation and protection of children, or isn’t it?  As several Orthodox and Roman Catholic theologians have observed, married couples who copulate using birth control are simply masturbating; it is every human being’s duty to abstain from sexual acts not open to the transmission of life.  Husbands and wives who contracept are, therefore, as antisocially selfish and morally foul as the randiest sodomite.  How’s that for consistency and even-handedness?

la-camilla

Just for fun, in a fit of anti-Yale and anti-elite pampered commodes of received opinion generally – that country club in Palo Alto with the bad library, say, Taco Bella Italia prefab – here’s a reprise of La Camilla’s post-election Salon column. All the tastier since the Obamatards are now having to eat their hats about Barky Hussein’s cool competence, his first-class temperament with a first-class intellect, blah blah blah burp brack ralph bruce.

Money quote: “How dare Palin not embrace abortion as the ultimate civilized ideal of modern culture? How tacky that she speaks in a vivacious regional accent indistinguishable from that of Western Canada! How risible that she graduated from the University of Idaho and not one of those plush, pampered commodes of received opinion whose graduates, in their rush to believe the worst about her, have demonstrated that, when it comes to sifting evidence, they don’t know their asses from their elbows.” Camille’s been reading her Lady’s Dressing Room!