What Really Happened to Lincoln

This is too disrespectful. Why would Hamlet avenge Othello? They're of entirely different races, and I have no evidence that the Dane ever visited Venice, though I like to think he experimented widely in Denmark.

Inside Lincoln

I find the following musical program by Electric Six entirely offensive, yet oddly alluring:

Pervez: Let this be your Fort Sumter!

I had intended the following example of my sage advice to be a matter of private discussion, but seeing as our troubled world could desperately stand to gain from my wisdom and greatness I have decided after much thought to disclose the contents of my recent e-mails to the closest living thing to Father Abraham that we have in this world (besides me, of course): General Pervez Musharraf.

To: lil’general@7-eleven.com
From: railsplittinstud1987@claremont.org
Sent: Thur 12/27/07 2:31 AM
Subject: Re: Re: Re: How to talk to ghosts in the Lincoln Bedroom the next time I visit Dubya

Message: Ahoy-hoy, Pervey. The tidings of Father Abraham are truly upon you this day!

The fickle-minded nihilists of the world frown upon the recent premature expiration of Benazir Bhutto, but as sure as Lincoln had a stovepipe hat this occasion is your blessing! We hear today only of tragedy, but your country has been relieved of its Stephen Douglas – this time in the form of a white-hooded wench on a wave of post-exile popular sovereignty. Pay no attention to that democracy-spouting harpy, for it is the Union that reigns supreme over the people.

Today is no day for tears, my dear General. Today is your Fort Sumter. Seize the occasion as Lincoln did before you and bring Pakistan’s subversive positivists to their knees.

May the Union be with you!

Harry

P.S. The disunionist press corp taunts you now as they did to Lincoln. Follow his model and lock them in Fort McHenr…er…an Islamabad prison cell and be rid of their insolence. History will venerate you, my friend!

P.P.S. Sorry for my belated response on the Lincoln Bedroom thing. I ordered something called a "protoplasmic necro-communicator" from an ad in Spy Magazine. I think it'll do the trick, but the stuff they sent me looks like a roll of telephone wire, an egg carton, and an old boat battery. Ken's down in the basement trying to assemble it right now. I'll have him drop it at DSL in the morning - HVJ

So there you have it - my wisdom shared with Pervez and now the world. May its prescient contents Declare before us a message of equality for the ignorant masses, to be forever recorded in the archives of gravity. Huzzah!

Judicial Calhounite

Not since the blunders of Taney has our blessed Union seen a so-called jurist espouse the judicial philosophy of rum, romanism and rebellion so radically as Fox News analyst Andrew Napolitano, the Scalia of the Masterclass.

Whatever you do, do not watch this video:

Ron Paul's Calhounite Revolution!

I bring tidings this Boxing Day: Frank Meyer's ghost has returned to haunt the American electoral system once again, and this time he is penning speeches for a nullificationist witchdoctor from that neo-confederate stronghold of Texas. While most good, Union-loving candidates of the Republican Party spend the darker months of the year responding to my call for Haj to the temple of Abraham in Washington, D.C. this would-be pretender to Lincoln's throne has used the Holy Month of Abradan to commit high heresy before all that is America, or at least its better parts. And the cameras captured this abomination!



600,000 unnecessary deaths, Mr. Paul? Bah!

Each and every single one of those 600,000 lives was destined to be spilt upon the altar of the glorious Union, for the Union alone gave them those lives and the one true same Union, through the merciful might of its Prophet Abraham, is alone permitted to decree their termination in fulfillment of its needs! In 1861 Lincoln saw the youthful life of his nation being drained by the states, crazed with oedipal desires to rob their lifegiving mother, the Union, of its essence and purity. And like Bathory and Saltykova before him, Lincoln saw the one true and only solution: mother Union must bathe her wayward soils in the virgin blood of its peonage to attain a new birth of freedom.

While still recovering from the shock of Mr. Paul's blasphemy, Fox News cobbled together a response. Unfortunately Roger Ailes seems to have misplaced a certain email address (psst...it's railsplittinstud1987@claremont.org - keep the bottle opener keychain next time) and assigned this important task to Bill Kristol.



As I watched his disjointed though well intentioned rebuttal I was reminded of the lowly freshmen who attend the Claremont Institute's log cabin summer retreats. They arrive with the glow of hope in their eyes and a sense of adoration unseen since Elmer Ellsworth was a sprightly young intern at the law offices of Lincoln and Herndon, but like young Ellsworth, true to the cause though they may be, they are as of yet unready to carry Father Abraham's banner into battle with the Calhounite hordes, be they confederate innkeepers or presidential candidates. Since only a true and seasoned elder of Father Abraham's temple is capable of delivering the necessary retort, I again humbly make it known that my services are available.

The insidious nature of the Ron Paul campaign makes it a particularly pressing threat to the Union we hold and cherish so dearly. True to its roots in the neo-Calhounite compounds of backwoods Alabama, Paul's campaign recently happened upon $6 million cash - as sure sign that his hordes have been digging up the Confederate gold that Judah P. Benjamin stashed in the New Mexico desert after Richmond fell in 1865. If that were not trouble enough though, Paul's campaign like Calhoun before him has joined forces with Nazi Germany, just as I first discovered almost four score ago as I explained to a then-lost Union what a crisis in a divided house truly meant.

If ever you needed proof that Calhoun and Hitler link their arms in a swastika of hatred for Father Abraham, check no further than this article by David Benzion of Lone Star Times, which has proof that Mr. Paul and his Knights of the Golden Circle cohorts secretly conspire on their Calhounite agenda with the Wehrmacht at a Washington, D.C. Thai cafeteria every Wednesday night.

Both Congressman Paul and his aides regularly meet with members of the Stormfront set, American Renaissance, the Institute for Historic Review, and others at the Tara Thai restaurant in Arlington, Virginia, usually on Wednesdays. This is part of a dinner that was originally organized by Pat Buchanan, Sam Francis and Joe Sobran, and has since been mostly taken over by the Council of Conservative Citizens.

They say that Paul's Hitler liason is Don Black, but just reading that article tells me enough to know the man who is really behind the curtain: Joe Sobran.

I'm not a chick

...and I don't write country music lyrics, but if I were and did, JunkYard blog would have it right.

From my cold gay hands

shall you pry the colorful new $5 bill, with its brilliant streaks of lavender. We call it the "Fry-Spot."

Timeless Wisdom on Hotchicks

Pervez dons a stovepipe hat

As the world teeters on the brink of nihilistic positivism, a beacon of perpetual emancipation has emerged from the unlikeliest of places. Father Abraham has a champion among the sons of Ishmael, the great General Pervez Musharraf.

To hear the words of Lincoln, transposed in undulating pitched consonants to the Pakastani emancipator's mouth and dripping forth from his tongue like the blood of Atlanta's Calhounite housewives trickled off the boot heels of General Sherman, truly brought joy to this old man's heart. Let us hear the General's message as he urges us Americans, and indeed the inheritors of the Gettysburg banner, to once again affirm our faith in the purity and guidance of Father Abraham:

I would at this time venture to read out an excerpt of President Abraham Lincoln, specially to all my listeners in the United States. As an idealist, Abraham Lincoln had one consuming passion during that time of crisis, and this was to preserve the Union.

The Union, oh blessed and merciful may it be to you, General Musharaff. For you are truly a man who has seen his house divided and declared that there shall be no more crisis! But lo, I see that the modern day's Copperheads have targeted you with their venom and a thousand blogging Booths now descend upon your theater perch. The heirs of Calhoun and Hitler know no boundaries, seemingly having even dragged the once talented Eric Foner into their camp.

Here is what Lincoln did not do and Musharraf did. He did not suspend the Constitution, remove the Chief Justice, impose martial law upon the entire country, incarcerate dozens of lawyers, arrest leaders of the opposition party and human rights advocates or ban political demonstrations. Perhaps most important, he did not disrupt the operation of political democracy.

No, no, no, Eric! You have it all wrong, and if you had paid attention when I told you that Lincoln gave this country a new birth of freedom you might possibly glimpse a reflection of a shadow of the depth of the wrongness that I know you to now exhibit.

How dare thee suggest Abraham Lincoln failed in his attempt to impose martial law! How dare you accuse him of inadequacy in his efforts to arrest leadership of the opposition party! How dare you impugn Father Abraham's ability to disrupt the operation of political democracy! And he would have arrested that rat bastard Taney too if the weaker minds in his cabinet had not impeded him. My dear Eric, you make a great story teller but know Lincoln you do not, for Abe not only met the bars you set for him but met them like a viking.

It is General Musharaff in emulating Lincoln's grand example who falls short for want of simple elocution. But that is no fault of his. In the century since the American people were robbed of Lincoln's divine utterances only one voice has attained a peerage along side the Emancipator's oratory. Though such assistance was available to him, for reasons unknown General Musharaff neglected to return my phone calls.

"Extremism in the defense of Lincoln is no vice," he should say! Declare that and in United Pakistan, much like the United America, children would forever frolic to Abraham's guidance amidst the daisies and the glowing rays of light cast out upon the land like a mushroom's spores from the glory that is Union.

Blog Update: Comments Open

Sorry for the light blogging; I've been vacationing in a lovely section of Miami Beach - so many youths to mentor, so little time.

Also, due to a technical absurdity, commenting was temporarily disabled.

The forum is now open; however, we humbly reserve the right for Ken Masugi to suspend discussion in the case of an emergency, such as the loss of an argument.

The Sacred Potato Mystery Deepens

In an earlier post, I contemplated the meaning of the Sacred French Fry.

Now we have this, via the Californian: http://www.nctimes.com/articles/2007/06/18/news/californian/61707181839.txt

For the last nine years, students in Darren Thomas' Advanced Placement
history classes at Chaparral High School have been enshrining members into the
American Hall of Fame in the form of Mr. Potato Head.

-small snip-

The 2007 inductees, honored at a ceremony June 6, were Clara Barton and
Frederick Douglas. Their likenesses, created using the popular toy, join Rosa
Parks, Thomas Edison, Earl Warren, Lyndon Johnson, Mark Twain, Jane Addams,
Benjamin Franklin, Alexander Hamilton, Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt, Theodore
Roosevelt, Henry Clay, John Marshall, Abraham Lincoln, Martin
Luther King, Thomas Jefferson, Harriet Tubman and Andrew Carnegie in the Hall of
Fame.

Well, it's about time Mr. Thomas' class got around to enshrining the great one. I can just see the looks on the faces of the Neoconfederates as they realize Father Abraham has claimed a new conquest, this time on the battlefield of a high school history AP classroom.

Inducted into the Hall of Shame was Sen. Joseph McCarthy. He joins Nathaniel
Forrest, the founder of the Ku Klux Klan, Aaron Burr and Boss Tweed as spuds of
infamy.

How ya like them taters, Mr. Bradford?

Like the noble potato, prior to picking by free and equal hands, Father Abraham is rooted deep in the soil of America's foundation - low, but sturdy soil.

NyTimes Falls to Calhounites

I must confess I don't keep up with the Beltway much since my subscription to The Star lapsed, but the following pictograph of Clarence Thomas suggests that the New York Times would like to renominate Justice Taney.

Ask Harry

Dear Harry,

Emulating your most gracious example, I am now surrounded by fawning acolytes of my own. While the accompanying lightening of my workload and validation of my gifts can be gratifying, increasingly I find myself exhausted by their endless requests. How do you handle it?

Sincerely,
Depleted in Dallas

Dear Depleted,

Oh heavy lies the crown! Disciples are a stealthy burden indeed. At first, its "Let me go forth and spread the word!" "Let me take up your class load!" "Let me smite the dissenters!"

Next thing you know, its "Sign off on this abortion of a thesis!" "Sign the forward to my e-book!" "Look! I've quoted you out of context for the 300th time!"

Yet, someone must ensure we stay in print long after our time. Keep them near, teach them as you may, and let them love you. But always, always, deny them your vital essence.

Hope that helps!

Ashton Kutcher: Calhounite

This time Kelso has gone too far:Ashton Kutcher Moons Abraham Lincoln Monument

October 2, 2006 12:25 p.m. EST
Maira Oliveira - All Headline News Reporter

Washington, D.C. (AHN) - Ashton Kutcher decided to put on a brave face and
test his limits with inanimate objects in the country's capital last week. The
former "That 70s Show" star made a recent trip to Washington, D.C. with his wife
Demi Moore, hoping to do a little bit of sightseeing and to embark on an
unforgettable adventure - and that he did.

During his few nights stay, Ashton decided to bare his butt for Abraham
Lincoln's entire stone fixture to see.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite what Larry Kramer, Gore Vidal, Carl Sandburg, Walt Whitman, Joshua Fry Speed, or a long list of scholars understandably would like to fantasize, I can assure you that Father Abraham would have not the slightest interest in Kelso's ass. Even less so in stone form.

Second, I've put up with that crazy kid's hijinks long enough. You DO NOT PUNK Abraham Lincoln!!! This is no ordinary monument we're talking about, but a temple in which the memory of our savior is enshrined forever, until it is destroyed, only to be rebuilt on the third day.

Ashton Kutcher, you're on my shit list. That is a place you do not want to be, my young friend. Well, it's not a place so much as...a list, a list on which you should not wish to have your name placed. But you're on it now. Your time is coming. You will know not the day nor the hour. Just you wait.

A Deep-fried Sign from Above

Well friends, a new day is surely upon us. Thanks to the sprightly young fellow who runs A. Lincoln Blog, I am aware of this story: French Fried Abe?.

Yes, it seems our Savior is revealing Himself to us once again, this time as a french fry.

I know what you're thinking: why would our Lord Lincoln reveal himself to us as a french fry? How could that make any sense? What's his carb count? FOOL! It is not for you to question Him! Approach the Sacred Fry with reverence! The Lincoln works in mysterious ways. Whether destroying entire communities of civilian population, or incarnating Himself as a deepfried shred of potato, He saves our beloved Union with every spasm of His mighty Spirit! Yours is but to praise.

Pilgrimages are to commence at once to the site of the Sacred Fry, once I have ascertained that location. As one of my flock, you shall have instructions soon. Keep watching the Claremont Review of Books or that gay little Remedy blog my groveling disciples run for further news.

The time of Our Lincoln is soon upon us.

P.S. I'll kill anyone who eats that fucking fry.

Editors are Stupid (and Aquinas is a liar)

Ok, so I'm sitting there at Barnes and Noble, minding my own business over a venti Caramel Machiatto and a half-dozen or so espresso brownies, when some greasy emo twat two tables over starts telling this fat chick all about Nietzsche. None of it's worth repeating, but suffice to say, the German is "totally fucking real." Nauseated by this abortion of public higher education, I became curious to see what sort of nihilistic excrement was populating the Philosophy section, and waddled thusly.

What should first catch my eye in the "A" section? I'll tell you. St. Thomas Aquinas on Politics and Ethics, a Norton "Critical" Edition edited by some frivolous Princetonite called Paul E. Sigmund. Being a rather noted expert on Aquinas, it occurred to me that I might be included in such a "critical" anthology of Aquinas and secondary sources. Indeed, it seems I am. Right there on page 120 (a surprisingly low placement behind a lot of rather mindless twaddle) is a brutally short excerpt from my splendid 1952 book on the "Stupid Ox."

How does the editor introduce a work of brilliance to be reverently beheld by all intelligent men? With the following (in a mere parenthetical, no less):

"Jaffa's book undertakes the not difficult task of showing that Aquinas often departs from Aristotle while claiming merely to be interpreting his thought"(emphasis added).

Not difficult? NOT DIFFICULT! I'll tell you what's not difficult: removing a stinking pile of puerile trash from the shelf, tucking it under a fold, taking it to the Men's Room, tearing it into tiny pieces and flushing it down the toilet. The pieces I didn't use, that is. Thanks for nothing Paul E. Sigmund. May you meet the fiery fate of all who are useless to the regime.

BUT HERE'S AN OBJECT MORE OF DREAD

Ed: While Lincoln certainly celebrated Death in his presidency, this work from early in his career shows that that most profound student of Shakespeare was himself a poet of the first rank.

But here's an object more of dread
Than aught the grave contains--
A human form with reason fled,
While wretched life remains.

When terror spread, and neighbors ran
Your dangerous strength to bind,
And soon, a howling, crazy man,
Your limbs were fast confined:

How then you strove and shrieked aloud,
Your bones and sinews bared;
And fiendish on the grazing crowd
With burning eyeballs glared;

And begged and swore, and wept and prayed,
With manic laughter joined;
How fearful were these signs displayed
By pangs that killed the mind!

And when at length the drear and long
Time soothed thy fiercer woes,
How plaintively thy mournful song
Upon the still night rose!

I've heard it oft as if I dreamed,
Far distant, sweet and lone,
The funeral dirge it ever seemed
Of reason dead and gone.

To drink its strains I've stole away,
All stealthily and still,
Ere yet the rising god of day
Had streaked the eastern hill.

Air held her breath; trees with the spell
Seemed sorrowing angels round,
Whose swelling tears in dewdrops fell
Upon the listening ground.

But this is past, and naught remains
That raised thee o'er the brute;
Thy piercing shrieks and soothing strain
Are like, forever mute.

Now fare thee well!
More thou the cause
Than subject now of woe.
All mental pangs by time's kind laws
Hast lost the power to know.

O death! thou awe-inspiring prince
That keepst the world in fear,
Why dost thou tear more blest ones hence,
And leave him lingering here?

Luxuriating in a Song of Myself

50

There is that in me--I do not know what it is--but I know it is in me.

Wrench'd and sweaty--calm and cool then my body becomes, I sleep--I sleep long.

I do not know it--it is without name--it is a word unsaid, It is not in any dictionary, utterance, symbol.

Something it swings on more than the earth I swing on, To it the creation is the friend whose embracing awakes me.

Perhaps I might tell more. Outlines! I plead for my brothers and sisters.

Do you see O my brothers and sisters?

It is not chaos or death--it is form, union, plan--it is eternal

life--it is Happiness.

Oh, how I do love you Walt Whitman.

Father Abraham!

Father Abraham had many sonsMany sons had Father AbrahamI am one of them and so are youSo let's all praise the Lord.Right arm!Father Abraham had many sonsMany sons had Father AbrahamI am one of them and so are youSo let's all praise the Lord.Right arm, left arm!Father Abraham had many sonsMany sons had Father AbrahamI am one of them and so are youSo let's all praise the Lord.Right arm, left arm, right foot!Father Abraham had many sonsMany sons had Father AbrahamI am one of them and so are youSo let's all praise the Lord.Right arm, left arm, right foot, left foot!Father Abraham had many sonsMany sons had Father AbrahamI am one of them and so are youSo let's all praise the Lord.Right arm, left arm, right foot, left foot,Chin up!Father Abraham had many sonsMany sons had Father AbrahamI am one of them and so are youSo let's all praise the Lord.Right arm, left arm, right foot, left foot,Chin up, turn around!Father Abraham had many sonsMany sons had Father AbrahamI am one of them and so are youSo let's all praise the Lord.Right arm, left arm, right foot, left foot,Chin up, turn around, sit down!