Dominic Breazeale, coming off a KO loss to Heavyweight kingpin Anthony Joshua, appeared to be living the good life. He came in with juggs – Can’t Stop, Won’t Stop, Golden Corral – always a good sign. His opponent, Izu Ugonoh, a black Polak, famous for competing on some eastern bloc version of Dancing With The Stars. A classic Man Tits Vs. 6 Pack Abs Bama Brawl.
In a world where sexual assault is such a hot commodity, and victimhood a badge of pride to be respected, it is no surprise that women with long-harbored rage would be blowing their Mt. Vesuvius tops to cover the rest of us in ash.
This is now a culture where facts are decided ahead of time, and evidence cherry-picked on the fly. There is a tornado of harassment with allegations circulating the internet from everyone to Hollywood elites, to politicians, to local business owners. Accusations are indictments, and in this wave, the acts of Weinstein are now equal to Franken. 100+ victims are now comparable to a dumb and shameful photo on a USO tour.
Can we take a breath, or find the nearest potted plant.
Of course, it would be horrible to imply that consent is something to play fast and loose with. Unwanted sexual advancement placed upon another person is despicable. Status and power carry…..something…
While consent should never be taken for granted in the bedroom, there seems to be a double standard when it comes to recollection outside of the sheets. In one of the more high profile cases, a Louis CK accuser has revoked consent years after the fact. When recalling an incident where CK asked to masturbate in front of her, the anonymous woman has said on record that she “went along with his request, but later questioned his behavior.”
Another case of regret being apparently equivalent to rape is the infamous case of the Mattress Girl, the Columbia University student who accused a male peer of anally raping her. She was then found to have exchanged texts with him prior to the incident begging him for anal sex. In addition, there have even been widespread reports of her texting him flirtatiously even after the fact. Her case has been proven false, and the man cleared of all wrongdoing with the university settling out of court with his family. The social stigma, of course, will probably follow him for the rest of his life. She, however, is often still celebrated as a hero to this day because of her “artistic” interpretation of self-proclaimed victimhood.
“In a matter of hours I was tried, convicted and sentenced for something I did not do.” – Zach Ward (via News & Observer)
But here is the problem with online accusations: they stick. They always stick. Even without any form of real evidence or due process. In my home town, a man named Zach Ward who owned a comedy club woke up one day to an old fling from years prior accusing him in graphic detail of sexual assault. There were no witnesses, no proof, nothing damning other than her word against his. There was no approach to the police at the time of the incident nor at any point afterward. The result though was him being forced to step down from his business that he built from nothing, and to sell the property in haste at an enormous loss in value. No one in the community for one second thought to give him a fair shake. He maintained his innocence and provided a counter story – was labelled a pig for denying her statement. The accuser has seen an incredible resurgence in her prominence within the community, and the man who led the charge to believe her without any semblance of a question has seen himself become a hero of the people. Well, to everyone but Zach Ward.
Journalist Emily Lindin came under fire for posting a decidedly brash statement on Twitter
So where do we go from here? It appears that we are actively trying to erase all of the social progression achieved from the “sexual revolution” started in the 60s, which seemed to have snowballed into something that approached sexual equality until just recently. Women were free to enjoy some level of promiscuity without the judgment of yesteryear. It’s hard to imagine many men having a problem with this development either. But it seems that society has screeched to a halt at a glaring red light – and the crossroads we face is, as Douglas Murray so eloquently puts it, a very complicated one. Men are afraid of vengeful women; women are afraid of vicious men. Moreover, everyone seems to be afraid to speak their minds, because those who do get tackled in some way. In particular, anyone with conservative thoughts.
One thing that has become more obvious over time is that people on the far left, intersectional, trigger-happy political spectrum continuously speak out of both sides of their mouths. They have pushed a narrative of “hate speech” not being free speech, although the definition of hate speech seems to constantly change. However, when this idea is turned onto them, as it was when Facebook started banning comments from women advocating violence against men, it is met with outrage, condemnation, and accusations of sexism against the social media behemoth. “It’s just a joke to say ‘Kill all men,’” they said! Meanwhile, right-wingers have been banned from Twitter and the like for making far less offensive jokes than that.
Although free speech is a fundamental constitutional right, Facebook is indeed a private company, and is completely within their rights to remove anything they feel is not in line with their terms and conditions. There is also an argument for the advocacy of violence not falling under free speech due to Supreme Court precedents. For some reason this leaves me with the impression that the new, regressive version of the left tends to meet most things with negativity.
And with that in mind, is it any wonder that they are closing both their minds and their legs?
It was pouring as I stumbled back, drunk and exhausted, towards Nedjarići. The rain didn’t seem to stop the stray dogs. They were having their usual orgy, defiling the construction site I hadn’t seen operating since I had been in Sarajevo. Who will it house? The youth were leaving, and the siege generation wasn’t getting any better. Maybe it was financed on a whim. I doubt it matters all that much whether it fails or succeeds, as long as the oil money flows in. None of this had much effect on my mood. The kiosk was still open, and after the usual run around with the attendant, Haris, who functioned with war torn clubs for hands, the chains were removed from the beer fridge.
The next morning I woke up to Sabina’s phones alarm. Apparently, she set it with the Muezzin which echoed as I tripped over the empties, ending any idea of leaving without the awkward morning goodbyes. Neither she nor I wanted anyone else in our group to know we were fucking. I told her my bad, as I closed the door.
It was rare to come back to my room without any beer and if didn’t settle I would vomit. So, I went about the dumb drag down to the nearest shop to refuel. Thankfully, departure was being held up by the two Turkish girls. It would be a long ride to Banja Luka. I didn’t need to come down yet.
Passing through the smoke filled lobby people were gathered around watching a failed coup, I guess there would be none of that Gülen shit in Turkey for the time being. At the checkout desk waited your typical Saudi nuclear family; a man, his three wives, and their 12 kids. The little boys were all wearing Messi jerseys, and the little girls donning their cute hijabi training wheels, yet to go full beekeeper and pick up the burqa.
Outside, the fog lingered above the mortar marked edifices of yesteryear’s Yugoslavia. The uniformly block buildings were decorated by the ornaments of laundry and leaking bullet holes that oozed streaks like running mascara. Because of both the weekend and the weather, few from the neighborhood ventured out.
Edin, a teenaged corn vendor, was unpacking his stand from the trunk of his grandfather’s Yugo. It appeared today he would be without his usual competition; a profusely bearded Islamist caricature whose judging gaze I tended to welcome in my intoxication.
I had heard locals talk about the recent reversion back to faith. A culture war was brewing between secular Bosniaks who identified the faith but didn’t give a shit about strict adherence, against the Islamist who saw doctrine as the end- all be- all. What had been taboo expressions of faith, such as the hijab, were now commonplace, even amongst the youth. Worst more, former drunks were now sober and bearded, donning halal skullcaps and Capri pants in the way of the prophet.
The locals might tell you this came from their new Arab neighbors. The ones from the gulf that financed the mujahideen during the war; Saudi Salafist that built mega mosques and Qatari playboys bathed in cologne. The zealous among them, the true believers, would often be linked to a collection of black burqaed ghosts, shadowing their Versace dressed master. I wondered what the city seemed to them through the slits, with its bare skin ads and alcohol. How did they see the unaccompanied women, the buxom Bosnians with their bouncy boobs of a bread diet? Or was this part of the plan? A foothold in the heathen continent they would eventually bring to Allah. I saw a platoon of those suffocated women leaving Victoria Secret – bags full of lingerie – submitting their instincts to Sharia. Bin Laden had a bunch of porn with him when he was shot by Seal Team Six; perhaps he could have shed light on the paradox.
After the usual dance at the kiosk, I purchased five 18 oz. beers that would last me the ride up to Banja Luka.
From there I decided on corn for breakfast. Edin noticed his corner competition had failed to show up. I joked that maybe he had gone to Syria
Yeah, but maybe someone just replace him.
In what is perhaps the most interesting story in the history of baseball, the Philadelphia Phillies have recently fired their ballparks beloved pistachio girl, Emily Youcis. The cheerful vendor had gained a cult following over her 6 years of employment at the stadium, most notably for the comedic way in which she marketed her snacks. At the time of her termination, the aspiring animator was also a known participant in the cities local art scene, noted for her work as both a painter and a vocalist in a screamo band.
Beyond her less than accommodating views regarding non-white individuals (Jews Included), Youcis gives off the typical vibe of a struggling artist. The type of person possibly consumed by student loans, who wouldn’t appear out of place at Occupy Wall St. rally, or going door to door for Bernie Sanders. But these assumptions would be false, as a recent transformation in Youcis’s outlook has since aligned her with an entirely different type of crowd.
As she recounts it this change occurred after recently consuming the metaphorical “Red Pill” of the Alt-Right, which evoked an almost spiritual moment of awakening. Getting “pilled” as they put it, seems to be a sort of Neo-Fascistic awakening, inspired by ones profound connection to white European identitarianism at the heart of the white nationalist movement led by Richard Spencer. Youcis, for her part, is much more open about her more deplorable views, forgoing any attempt to veil her Neo-Nazi sympathies. In a variety of interviews available on youtube she makes no mistake with regards to voicing her concern over the “JQ,” or Jewish Question, while making the usual calls for a white ethnostate which can only be achieved through ethnic cleansing. This a stark contrast in comparison to Spencer who seems intent to describe his vision for the Alt Right as merely another just another form of identity politics, albeit this time for “White Americans of European decent.”
Despite her otherwise conventional Neo-Nazi views, Youcis is emblematic of the new face one should now expect from the white supremacist movement. A rebranding of sorts away from the American History X archetype, into a new hipster, styled future that hopes to Make Hate Great Again.
(Emily Youcis participating at the infamous NPI conference in Washington DC.)
A final observation about the NPI Conference:
To all you lunatics and SJWS on the left,
Please understand that the behavior demonstrated in the video above, and other acts like it, only serve to fuel support for movements such as the Alt Right. It was utterly disgusting to observe the lack of ideological engagement against Emily Youcis and her fellow White Identitarians. Aside from just the nonsensical temper tantrums on college campuses, the left has gotten a total pass with regards to real violence against those they disagree with. More disgustingly this violence and censorship has been perpetrated against many who would otherwise find far more ideological commonality with Leftists than they ever would share with the Alt Right fringe.
All the best,
Saturday’s fight between Jermall Charlo and Julian Williams was built as a highly competitive matchup between two competitors primed to challenge for supremacy among the pseudo division currently dominated by Canelo Alvarez. As the bookmakers had it Williams was a slight favorite, and the late money followed this trend. The fight however, did not follow suite, with Williams being dramatically KO’ed in an otherwise competitive contest. One should think of Amir Khan, when imagining the seamless shift between awe-inspiring combinations and utter vulnerability.
As is typical of most great match-ups, Charlo and Williams demonstrated a palpable level mutual disdain for each other. Observers of online trash talk will know that Williams has gained a reputation in the division for consistently sniping his fellow 154 lbs. travelers. This tactic can be highly effective, particularly for a fighter such as Williams, who are forced to take lead in their own branding. What is also clear is that Williams slights were greatly effective in penetrating Charlo’s psyche, to the point they continued to linger even after the match had concluded. Eventually seen by Charlo’s refusal to shake Williams hand after winning via a brutal and beautiful 5th round KO.
This lack of sportsmanship was not missed by the crowd, whom instinctively returned a chorus of boos that initially seemed to energize the flexing Charlo as he made his way to each corner of the ring yelling from the ropes “Whose the fuckin’ champ now”. Watching from my home it was so refreshing to witness boxer double down on villainy, and cherish the role of heel that is utterly missing in the post Mayweather era.
But all of this was ruined the moment he started to walk it back with Jim Gray.
It is my opinion that Charlo, and fighters of his ilk, should have never apologize; There can only be so many happy go lucky Manny Pacquiaos in a generation. I say this because apologies, particularly when they are insincere, or uttered from a guy whose chest tattoo reads “Lions Only”, are in essence a pathetic acquiesce to the increasingly stupid fan mentality that athletes owe viewers some patronizing attempt at civility.
At what point are these assholes going to realize they are not tuned into to watch Boutros Boutros-Ghali make some call for peace at the UN. For those who are still confused please consider that you a literally watching two shirtless gladiators willfully attempt destroy one another. And if you still don’t get it please kindly shut your fucking mouths because you really don’t get it. You assholes are the reason Charlo felt obligated to apologize. A point that anyone who watched this past election cycle should know to be tiresome and invalid. When they say ‘You made us upset’ its only sensible to respond with ‘Fuck You’. Fans, and people more generally want villains. They need someone to hate, no matter how reluctant they are to admit it. In boxing the clearest demonstration of profit from villainy is seen through the career of Mayweather who has generated more money at the cost of remarkably little damage. People tune in for the guy who gives a middle finger when he is called to apologize, not the blubbering beta male that hires a PR team and that holds a press conference to explain away the reason he fucked his secretary.
(On a side note, just look what these assholes did to Tiger Woods)
Charlo may have missed his opportunity to double down, but that’s okay. Hopefully he has recognized the crowds reaction to his apologetic attempts as insincere, and will take them from now on as a call towards weakness. From now on Charlo, double down, and never, ever, apologize.
And if you need a point of reference I recommend you follow the example of the Iron Sheik.
When Dereck Chisora threw a table at Dillian Whyte it was about all that one should have exspected from the self-styled Del Boy. Chisora is nuts, hes proven he’s nuts, and to some degree his being nuts is why he is still getting high profile fights his match-up on Saturday.
This match-up pits the consistently entertaining, yet unsatisfied Chisora against the younger and slightly favored Whyte for WBC International heavyweight title. Chisora to his credit has been in with the elite of the Heavyweight division (Vitali Klitschko, David Haye, Tyson Fury, Kubat Pulev) although in every instance fallen slightly short.
Whyte is still gunning for a rematch against Anthony Joshua, who also fights on Saturday against heavy underdog Eric Molina.
I see it as an even fight that should be interesting in the event that it reaches the later rounds. Should this happen Chisora could potentially have an advantage in that Whyte has never gone beyond the 10th round, which coincidentally was in his last fight.
Prediction/Wishful Thinking: Chisora by late KO.
All said here is the press conference chaos. I recommend watching until the end to enjoy the hilarity of a bookish Brit calmly reasons with Chisora that there was nothing to worry about, they would be able to fight each other tomorrow.
It should also be known that this was not the first time Chisora lost his shit at a press conference.
“I’m gonna shoot David Haye. He fuckin’ glassed me.”
Dereck Chisora Vs. David Haye
The post Trump world has exposed a glaring misalignment between the nonsensical worldview which dominates the liberal bubble, against and a predictably complex reality one should expect from a nation of 300 million citizens. To hear liberals tell it, Trump’s election simply affirms everything they already knew, that America is a nation of built upon, and dominated by white supremacy. To be a white person is an indictment that forever links a person to the stained history of slavery and colonialism, a facilitator and beneficiary of oppression, the kin of Klansman who have exchanged their white hoods and robes for a blue uniforms and a badges.
This point should be immediately clear to anyone who has recently stepped foot on a university campus. For those of you who are lost, I recommend you google your favorite colleges policy on safe spaces and trigger warnings. And furthermore if you would like to see this mentality in action look no further than the Yale Halloween costume incident where possibly the most privileged people in human history can be seen throwing temper tantrums at the prospect of someone where anything that could be perceived as insensitive. The professor involved in this confrontation, Nicholas Christakis, was sticking up for his wife Erika who wrote possibly the most benign email ever encouraging students to consider a tempered response in the event they should encounter another individual wearing something they viewed as insensitive. A fatal flaw for both Erika and Nicholas, who no longer work at Yale, as they should have known such an offense as having an opinion, moreover the wrong one, would not survive the offending the sensibilities of the most coddled generation of privilege checking zombies and their fascistic enforcement.
The events at Yale are by no means a singular event. In the past year I have heard an Anthropology professor explain to his class that it would inappropriate to criticize the Islamic practice of female genital mutilation, never mind that aside from its barbarity, the practice also entails a higher vulnerability to the contraction of AIDS in the most affected region of the world. Or my third wave feminist professor of literature who was said their really was no debating the fact that a person’s gender was infinitely amorphous and that it had nothing to do with biological sex. This was a fact.
It is increasingly clear that the Left has villain deficit. Who is this poster supposed to be targeting on a liberal campus, in liberal city, where 80% of the vote went democrat? Where are the white men, in white hoods, burning crosses? And if this is such an issue, and if they are dwelling around this campus, whom should I confront?
I write this a year removed from a four-year stint of service on active duty in US Army, where I served as an armor crewman, or more simply a tanker. The primary mission of the battalion I was assigned concerned weapons and equipment testing through what felt as an endless string of field exercises that typically lasted about two months throughout the vast deserts of New Mexico and west Texas. The soldiers of my company, although all male (as combat arms units tend to be) was about as diverse a collection of people one could imagine. My best friend was a Costa Rican immigrant, my Company First Sergeant was a black Cajun from Louisiana, to dispatch my M1A2 Abrams I had to go through a Specialist who was only 2 years removed from Lagos, Nigeria where all his family still lived. It was about as diverse a collection of people one could imagine, where aside from the usual politically incorrect barbs, identity played no part with regard to discourse. Nobody gave a fuck if you were gay, or Muslim, or used broken English, the only thing that matter was the you fulfilled the obligations before you.
It is my military experience above all that has made my transition back into the civilian world, particularly into the environment of academia all the more confusing, in that almost everything seems driven and reliant on check-mark identity, above the uniqueness of individuality.
Post Mortem On The Election
If you want to understand this mentality, one should look no further than CNN’s election night coverage in which a collection experts who had spent an entire year getting everything wrong, delivered a swan song of nonsense, highlighted by the Van Jones whom reacted with a hilarious display of pathetic bewilderment to the results. What we were witnessing, as he viewed it, could only be described as a “whitelash“. After all, how else could those on the identity driven left comprehend the actions of a nation that twice elected a black president named Barack Hussein Obama. Surely this was the racist core we know motivates the red states in earning their hue.
Enter Richard Spencer and The Alt Right
As someone who enjoys dwelling in the deep and dark excesses of the internet, where Jihadist discuss the most recent edition of Dabiq, or where African supremacist from the Uhuru Movement plan for the impending race war against the white cave dwelling colonizers, I have known of Spencer for sometime which makes his recent spike in coverage rather surprising for above all two reasons.
- The depiction by which he has been portrayed is above all entirely inaccurate with regard to how I have come to know him. Not only with regards to what his message seems to be, but also the mode by which he operates. Anyone who is familiar with Spencer will understand what I mean by this, as to watch him talk is not aligned with some Neo Nazi skinhead reminiscent of Edward Norton’s character in American History X. No, Spencer is instead terrifyingly honest and bookish, more akin to some gender studies professor at Oberlin. In fact his approach has even provoked rumors of closeted homosexuality from the more typical neo Nazi crowds one would associate with Swastika tattoos and Skrewdriver albums.
- The coverage he has gained is in reality the fulfillment of a goal he actively pursued and explicitly described in a series of obscure and scarcely downloaded podcasts about a year ago. This is to say Spencer explicitly wanted to be covered by the media, and he wanted the media to talk about him exactly the way they have. He wants to bring identity politics to the forefront from a white nationalist perspective and he wants to the media to misrepresent him, which is exactly what they have done by showing him as the guy who he wondered whether or not Jews are people.
The Alt Right, as far as I can tell, demonstrates many parallels to the Black Lives Matter movement, particularly in that it is encompassed by a vast collection of people who subscribe to a variety of opinions and on variety of topics. The Alt Right is also similar to Black Lives Matter in that there really is no clear coherent message or leader. Richard Spencer is like BLM’s Deray McKesson or Shaun King, refuses to claim any position of authority although many people both within the movement or observing the movement identify their respective messages as inspirational.
What separates Spencer from King and McKesson, and what really is a point of confusion for me as to why the mainstream media has begun to platform him, is that before the election of Trump, Spencer was almost entirely unknown blogging from utter obscurity in Whitefish, Montana. To put this into context, before his twitter was shut down by Mckesson’s sidekick Jack, Spencer had only 15,000 followers. An absolutely miniscule following compared to McKesson’s 619K, and King’s 541K. Furthermore if you wanted to find Spencer on YouTube his platform was confined to no more than 10 videos, often possessing less than 1,000 views, generally recorded in the form of a google hangout with a Scottish member of the Alt Right’s whose channel is titled Millennial Woes.
All of this for me seems to beg the question, why the fuck has the mainstream media given millions of dollar in platform to a totally obscure white nationalist that would have been totally irrelevant had they not elevated his status? For me the answer is simple, they need the villain that fits their narrative regardless to their reality of total unimportance with regards to Trumps election, that was facilitated primarily of formerly democratic blue-collar workers that make up the rust belt.
But this it is not the truth that is important in a post fact world, and as the liberal elites recklessly double down on identity politics, I say this: You may want to reconsider your strategy if it includes platforming a white nationalist, whose previous audience was a dozen or so lonely trolls killing time in their mothers basement.
(A 2015 conversation about the ALT right by its leaders, in which Spencer states his goal to further the movement. This goal has since been fulfilled by the main stream media. Congrats you fucking idiots.)
Last Saturday Andre Ward won a unanimous decision over Sergey Kovalev, with all three judges scoring the bout 114-113. This result puts Ward in a precarious position as it begs for an immediate rematch against an opponent nobody fight twice.
Prior to the fight most ringside observers had it as a competitive match up which Ward would likely win through superior ring generalship and technique, the only potential equalizer being Kovalev’s world class power.
But from the opening bell the larger and more powerful Kovalev asserted a domineering presence never seen before in a professional ring that included Ward. I can scarcely recall individual rounds which Ward has given up since he entered the Super Six Boxing Championship; maybe enough to fit on one hand between Mikkel Kessler, Sakio Bika and Carl Froch combined. All which made the first half of the fight (I scored it a Kovalev sweep through round 6) particularly surprising. This domination was highlighted by a second round knockdown, which painted Wards face with the look that seemed to indicate he knew he was in with something special.
Following the knockdown Ward did battle back valiantly. First through the roughhouse tactics of tackling Kovalev in round three, and then later by seeming to win a series of rounds between 7-10. And although he still did not do enough in my opinion to win the fight, he demonstrated the best of what is uniquely inspirational about boxing, in its ability to show tremendous resolve in the face of adversary.
Also credit is due to Virgil Hunter, who I thought did a fantastic job keeping Ward focused while reaffirming his confidence. Particularly after the knockdown in which he seemed to encourage Ward to stand up to his bully, and prior to the 12th and final round in which he gave an impassioned speech that seemed to demonstrate the unique bond the two share.
All said Kovalev is not a guy who people should fight twice (if at all), just ask Jean Pascal. I would have said ask Roman Simakov, but you can’t because Kovalev killed him. Yes, you read that right, Sergey Kovalev has killed at least one person that we know of, and he did it with twelve ounce gloves on in a legally sanctioned event. A point that seems to have had little effect on Kovalev’s killer instinct.
In the end I would encourage Andre Ward to take a long vacation in the time being. And when he returns he should think long and hard before getting back in the ring with Sergey Kovalev.