“Hollywood: It has become so left-wing that it has fallen off the map and into the Pacific Ocean.” — James Arlandson
Did you know that in Tinsel Town the people there
Think substance is a bore … It’s the Tinsel Town Rebellion
From downtown Hollywood — Frank Zappa
“[Donald Trump] called the Washington furor over Russian hacking a “witch hunt” when it is actually far more sinister and dangerous. Witch hunts end. The Washington mob aims to make sure the election never ends and that Trump can never govern.” — Michael Goodwin
“…note the red herring. Whereas the real story is the content of the emails, the misdirect is how Wikileaks got them.” — Herschel Smith
With Friday’s endlessly hyped joint intelligence report facing skepticism over a complete lack of evidence to back up Obama regime claims, yet another change has been made to the story that is being used by Obama, Hillary and their allies to discredit the incoming Trump administration in the eyes of the American public … It is important to remember that according to documents leaked by former government contractor Edward Snowden that the Brits regularly worked with the NSA Stasi to circumvent constitutional restrictions and in this case, to provide cover for the official conspiracy theory on why Mrs. Clinton lost the election. (Russian Hack Story Continues to Change)
The thimbleriggers of the Trumpiphobic, permanently demented Left are still at it (Thimblerig: 1. A swindling trick in which a small ball or pea is quickly shifted from under one to another of three small cups to fool the spectator guessing its location. 2. One who manipulates the cup in thimblerig: thimblerigger — Merriam-Webster). The charge: Vladimir Putin and his evil cyber-hackers interfered in our election, thus causing Hillary Clinton to bungle the presidency, and the Democrats to shed even more seats in the House, the Senate, the nation’s statehouses and its governor’s mansions. Well, excuse me, but if exposing the cesspool in which Crooked Hillary and the Jackasses routinely swam laps was interference, instead of slapping ol’ Vladdy with sanctions, we ought to be sending him a Thank You note. Of course, no one has yet to see any hard evidence which proves the Russkies were behind the Wikileaks, and it sure wasn’t Putin who blithely slandered half of the citizens of America as “deplorables”. Still, if you’re nonetheless willing to take the word of known thimbleriggers like Barack Obama, CIA head John Brennan, or NSA chief James Clapper that Grizzly Steppe done did it, then you might be interested in buying an almost-new bridge in Brooklyn.
The Obama administration is retaliating against Russia for hacking into Debbie Wasserman-Schultz’s email account. It would have been much better if the administration had reacted when Russia hacked into the White House’s and State Department’s computers in 2014, but, as Glenn Reynolds says, at that time only national security was at stake, while now, it’s something really important: the Democratic Party’s power. (“Grizzly Steppe”: Is This a Joke?)
“North Vietnam cannot defeat the United States. Only Americans can do that.” — Richard Nixon
**The following took place during my long-ago sojourn in the Vietnam War. The names of my colleagues have been changed, not to protect the innocent — none of us were that — but because after almost 50 years, I can’t remember the real ones. But I can see the faces that went with them, as clearly as if I’d seen them just yesterday. Dialog has been reconstructed.**
We weren’t surfers, of course. The association was a loosely knit menagerie of Signal Corps misfits and an infantry grunt who’d been temporarily reassigned to our theoretically safe and secure locale while healing up from a minor combat injury incurred out in the Bad Bush. But the name sounded cool, and the South China Sea was close by. So that’s what we called ourselves. Hang 10, baby.
Associates had no boogie boards, but we always had reefer and warm beer in the bunkers. And we had rats, red-eyed varmints infested with plague fleas. They lived behind the sandbags and weren’t scared of anything except incoming. Sometimes we had boom-boom girls. They were warm too, but not as warm as the beer. The local Viet Cong constabulary was holed up in the nearby mountains, not doing much of anything usually, and when the boredom grew intolerable, they’d fire a few rounds at us for entertainment, haring off before the counter-mortar batteries could get a decent fix on their position. It was about as idyllic as Vietnam was ever going to get. It wouldn’t last, of course. Charlie had his lifers, same as us, and the big brass on either side is never happy unless they’re hurling their underlings at somebody’s throat. Unfortunately, this time one of those throats belonged to me.
“C’mon, man. I really want ya to go.”
“Are you crazy? You guys got shot at as soon as you left the gate yesterday.”
“Yeah, but nobody got hit. C’mon. Volunteer. Don’t make me order ya. The other guys are goin’. It’ll be fun. The midnight ride of the South China Sea Surfers. We’ll cruise in, pick that fat bastard up, and di di mau back here. Easy, peasey.”
“Stan, the damn city’s still full of gooks!”
“Hey, I got yer back. Ya don’t wanna live forever, do ya?”
“That’s exactly what I wanna do! I thought you was my buddy!”
“I got my orders, dipshit. I gotta go get the sergeant-major outta his billet, and I ain’t goin’ into town with a bunch of friggin’ damn FNG’s who I don’t know when there’s live Charlies running ’round. Now, you gonna volunteer for this here detail or not?”
“Aw, fer Christ’s sake, Stan.”
“That’s Sergeant Stan, Spec 4 Mack.”
“Okay, okay. I’m in. But you get me killed, and I’m gonna haunt yer sorry ass. You happy now, you persuasive prick?”
“As a clam. Grab yer gear an’ fall in by the Orderly Room. I’ll pick ya up there in 15 minutes.”
It was the third night of the Tet Offensive.
72 hours. After that, you shouldn’t be trusted with a cap gun, let alone a military assault rifle. I was closing on 72. We all were. Sleep deprivation is as dangerous as any other enemy. It’s probably why Giacomo dropped his weapon when he stepped on the dead gook.
“What the f**k, Jack!”
“Sorry, man. Scared the sh*t outta me. Ya smell that? Jesus, this f**ker’s gettin’ ripe!”
At midnight on January 30th, the Lunar New Year had begun in Vietnam with fireworks and traditional prayers to the Jade Emperor and his heavenly cohorts for 12 ensuing months of peace, love, and universal concord. Mortars and rockets started arriving in camp shortly thereafter. Enemy sappers hit the compounds along the beach road, and by mid-morning, half the city was under the less than merciful administration of the North Vietnamese Army and its political action executioners. We spent the day preparing for a ground assault that we were informed would be starting sometime after dark. It never materialized. This was due primarily to some spirited work by troopers of the Korean White Horse Division, and command and control incompetence from one of the NVA support units, which never arrived on site. In the morning, the ROKs flushed a few forlorn infiltrators from the refugee shacks on the far side of the wire. Grinned happily, and beat the wounded one to death with sandbags. Xin lỗi, asshole — sorry ’bout that. Some of the F**kin’ New Guys were growing a bit anxious: “Is it always like this?” “Don’t worry ’bout it, rook. You get used to it.” Salty old liars, that’s what we were in the Surfing Association. I was the member with the lowest seniority, and I’d been in-country for six months. Sergeant Stanley was in the midst of his third tour. F**k the FNGs if they couldn’t take a joke.
“Two mags apiece,” Stan said. “Just in case. Gilley’s carrying the thumper.” Gilley was TDY’d from the 196th Light Infantry Brigade, and the thumper was an M-79 grenade launcher. We all wore flak jackets. Stan had a pair of frags on his. “In an’ out, boys. In an’ out. An’ remember: don’t shoot yerselves.” Signal Corps commandos and an out-of-work grunt. We piled into the jeep.
Rumbling through silent streets as dark and empty as the black heart of an army recruiter. Even the Lambretta drivers were staying indoors. Sporadic chatter from faraway automatic weapons and the random thump of mortars. The pop of an illumination flare. Eerie, flickering shadows dancing malignantly over dusty areca palms and old French villas.
“This is some crazy sh*t,” says Booker. “We oughta let Charlie have that fat f**k. Nobody’d miss his dumb ass.”
Sergeant-Major Hodge. Career soldier, a lifer playing out the string. As past his prime as a quartermaster pork chop. Billeted in what passed for a hotel in what passed for a city in what passed for a country. RHIP. Rank has its privileges. But old Hodge had been trapped like any other no-account bunker rat when the NVA overran his neighborhood, and the Surfing Association had grudgingly left the relative safety of its tents to try and bring him back. Well, if Hodge was depending on amateurs like us for his liberation, he was in some deep sh*t.
Giacomo’s first out of the jeep. He rounds the corner and steps on the corpse. Weapon clatters to the ground.
“What the f**k, Jack!”
“Sorry, man. Scared the shit outta me.”
Stan hisses: “Keep it down, you sorry bastards!”
My heart’s trying to claw its way out of my chest. Jack Como, you slippery fingered friggin’ idiot, I’m gettin’ too old for this sh*t! (I’m only 19, but we’re always too old for this sh*t).
A pair of jumpy MPs are stationed in front of the hotel. “We’re here to get Sergeant-Major Hodge,” Stan tells them. “Everything quiet?”
“For now. You guys be careful drivin’ back. This area ain’t been fully cleared.”
Hodge’s door is unlocked. We knock once and barge in. The room stinks of body odor, whiskey, and stale smoke. The usual. He has an air conditioner, RHIP, but the power’s been gone for two days, and it’s stifling. A Coleman gas lantern is burning on an end table. Hodge is passed out, big whale belly rising and falling gently over his skivvies, sickly yellow in the feeble glow. Outside, the automatic weapons have started up again, but they’re not close.
“Lookit that,” says Booker. “He’s drunk as a damn skunk.”
“Sit him up,” Stan orders. “Let’s get him dressed an’ get the f**k outta here.”
Resuscitation proves difficult but not impossible. We get Hodge propped up, and eventually both of his bloodshot eyes stay open.
“Wha’ urr you men doin’ in my room?” Heavy slur, and breath that could deep fry an egg.
“We’re takin’ ya back to base, Sergeant-Major. It ain’t safe here no more.”
“Boo’ shit. Not goin’ t’camp ri’ now. Haf a drink.”
Gilley looks nervously out the window. “Man,” he whispers, “if he don’t get his ass movin’, I’ll shoot him myself!”
“There’s gooks all over the place, Sarge,” Stan informs him gently. “The city’s been overrun. We got orders to bring ya in.”
“Goos? Wha’ goos? Ish s’cure area.”
“He don’t even know we been hit,” says Booker incredulously. “F**kin’ lifers!”
“I vote to leave him here,” I say.
“He’p me get his pants on, Book,” Stan says. “C’mon, Sergeant-Major. I ain’t f**kin’ around no more. We gotta go.”
It’s like forcing two pounds of bratwurst into a one pound casing (I knew about such things — I’d served a year in Germany with Vee Corps artillery before volunteering for the Nam). Giacomo is checking out the Sergeant-Major’s stash. He’s jealous. Our ration cards only allot for beer and cigarettes, and the closest Class VI store is on the air base. “How come the lifers get to buy whiskey and we don’t?”
“‘Cause lifers don’t do sh*t but get drunk,” I tell him.
We get the Sergeant-Major on his feet. He sways like he’s being buffeted by a monsoon wind. “You boysh err takin’ care uh yer ol’ sarge, ain’t cha?”
“Man, I’d like ta throw him to th’ dogs,” says Gilley.
In June, the battalion holds an awards ceremony. Our battalion commander is given the Legion of Merit for exceptionally meritorious achievement during the Tet campaign (when he’d been in Australia on R&R). This is the first and last time I’d ever see him in person. Sergeant-Major Hodge receives the decoration too. The rest of us are issued certificates of merit signed by the Commanding General of the 1st Signal Brigade. Afterwards, the South China Sea Surfing Association effectively disbands. Stan had extended again, and transfers to Saigon. Gilley goes back to the 196th. The whites of Booker’s eyes turn yellow one day. He trudges off to the medical tent and is sent to a hospital in Japan. Giacomo becomes a doorgunner. His helicopter disappears during an operation in the A Shau Valley. He is listed as missing in action. I extend for an early discharge upon rotation back to the World. In October, I get my port call. My tour of duty is over. I’m going home.
“On January 21st of 2017, the day after I take the oath of office, Americans will finally wake up in a country where the laws of the United States are enforced. We are going to be considerate and compassionate to everyone. But my greatest compassion will be for our own struggling citizens.” — Donald Trump
Obama is the “most loquacious” president ever, George Will said on Fox News on Monday. Will then challenged guests Mercedes Schlapp and Charles Lane to recall something memorable the president had said. Nothing emerged… (How the outgoing president has made our holidays hazardous)
It won’t be long now. And for most people (I speak now of those unrepentant gun-totin’ clingers who live happily in places other than America’s urban Democrat dystopias), January 20th, 2017 can’t come quick enough. It’s the end of an error, alright, the official last day of the worst president in the history of the Republic. Bye-bye Harrison Bounel (a.k.a. Barry Soetoro and Barack Obama). Hello, Donald J. Trump. A.K.A. Donald J. Trump. And for the lefties that remain camped on the banks of that famous Egyptian river (you know — De-Nial), snarling endlessly about how Hillary won the popular vote, here’s a newsflash: America ain’t California or New York. Without those two bastions of homegrown Marxist mendacity, Trump’s up by 3 million. But, presidentially speaking, America ain’t a democracy in which the magic number is always 51 percent. We’re a constitutional republic wherein the institution of the Electoral College ensures that every state has a voice in choosing whom they want to lead the union. Which is exactly why the Left wants to jettison it.
According to ABC News:
In states including Connecticut, Pennsylvania, Ohio and New Mexico, legislators have said they plan to introduce legislation that would require their state’s Electoral College voters cast ballots for the presidential candidate who earns the most votes nationwide, regardless of the statewide results.
Since 2006, 11 states have signed onto the compact, which require their Electoral College voters to cast ballots for the national popular vote winner. In theory it would take effect once it involves states representing at least 270 electoral votes, the threshold to win the presidency. (JUST IN: Democrats To RIG Electoral College In Preparation For 2020 Election!)
This, of course, is a movement that will last only until such time as a Democrat loses the popular vote. Which may happen sooner than later assuming that President Trump deports all the illegals who voted for Hillary.
Republicans should designate the Muslim Brotherhood a terrorist organization, based simply on the weight of the evidence. But if they’re feeling a little bit mean — and why not? — they should wait until the Democrats have put Keith Ellison in charge of their party to do it. (A Problem Like Keith Ellison)
What should a political party that has just lost its white working‐class blue-collar base to a “make America great again” nationalist do to try to regain these voters? Why not appoint as the new head of the party a radical left-wing ideologue who has a long history of supporting an anti-American, anti-white, anti-Semitic Nation of Islam racist? — Alan Dershowitz
“The responsible activist has to show young people out there, that white supremacy and capitalism are what’s putting them in the position they’re in.” — Keith Ellison
“I think we need to study reparations. When there’s injury there should be redress, right?” — Keith Ellison
If it’s true that you’re known by the company you keep, then it’s appropriate that the man most likely to lead the post-Obama Democrats [sic] is an individual who in any reasonably sane society, would be near the top of his government’s subversives watch list:
In August 2006 the Communist Party USA (CPUSA) said: “If Keith Ellison is elected in November to represent Minnesota’s 5th Congressional District, he will bring to the U.S. House of Representatives a fresh progressive voice in tradition of Paul Wellstone. He will also be the first African American congressman from Minnesota and the first Muslim in the U.S. Congress.” … Ellison won his congressional election on November 7, 2006, and has been re-elected every two years since then. At his 2006 victory party, a number of his supporters shouted “Allahu Akbar!”—the traditional battle cry of jihadists. (Discover The Networks)
In [Ellison’s February 2000 speech on behalf of domestic terrorist Kathleen Soliah/Sara Jane Olson], Ellison called for the release of Soliah/Olson and spoke favorably of cop killers Mumia Abu-Jamal and Assata Shakur. (Keith Ellison for Dummies)
Keith Ellison spent 10 years of his life associating with the Nation of Islam. Since running for office, it seems, he has traded his loyalties to that group for organizations and individuals that are at least equally dangerous. When Congressman Ellison places his hand, today, on the Quran, to which people is he swearing an oath to protect? Is it the American public – many of which went blindly into the voting booths to choose him – or is it his friends, our enemies? (Keith Ellison’s Friends, Our Enemies)
During an interview on Monday’s edition of SiriusXM’s “Karen Hunter Show,” Representative Keith Ellison (D-MN), who is a candidate for DNC Chair stated that Fidel Castro “confronted people with a lot of power on behalf of people that didn’t have any.” And while Castro “probably” was “harsh” and “dictatorial” his legacy is “mixed” and saying that he’s “all bad,” is “all wrong.” (Dem Rep Ellison: ‘All Wrong’ To Say Castro Was ‘All Bad,’ He ‘Confronted’ People In Power)
These days, if you’re not an incipient totalitarian with a predilection for insurrection and dishonesty, you just can’t be a good Democrat. In addition to questionable allegiances with unsavory characters, Ellison, like fellow Jackasses Al Sharpton and Charlie Rangel, is a notorious tax cheat:
Ellison’s record also includes a multitude of embarrassments of the traditional kind. He fell afoul of the IRS after failing to pay $25,000 in income taxes; he ignored fines that he had incurred for parking tickets and moving violations so numerous that his driver’s license was suspended more times than he can remember; he was fined for willful violation of Minnesota’s campaign finance reporting law. It amounts to a striking pattern of lawbreaking since he undertook the practice of law in 1990. (Louis Farrakhan’s First Congressman)
With a record like his, Keith Ellison is the perfect choice to lead the modern Democrat Party into the oblivion which it so richly deserves.
America’s subversives took a break from their daily rioting to eulogize their Uncle Fi:
Proving just how anti-American Black Lives Matter is, the radical black movement sent a love letter to dead Cuban dictator Fidel Castro. They praised his brutal rise to power, his totalitarian communist regime, and most of all for giving safe haven to revolutionary black terrorists including cop-killer Assata Shakur.
Black Lives Matter posted this sickening tribute to an American enemy on Medium yesterday:
“We are feeling many things as we awaken to a world without Fidel Castro. There is an overwhelming sense of loss, complicated by fear and anxiety. Although no leader is without their flaws, we must push back against the rhetoric of the right and come to the defense of El Comandante. And there are lessons that we must revisit and heed as we pick up the mantle in changing our world, as we aspire to build a world rooted in a vision of freedom and the peace that only comes with justice. It is the lessons that we take from Fidel.”
Fidel Castro shed blood on a scale unimaginable in American terms. His butchers executed perhaps 15,000 prisoners, according to academic estimates cited by Wikipedia … That was in a country of 7 million. In per capita terms, that’s the equivalent of about 680,000 executions in the United States of America with our population of 318 million. What’s 680,000? The entire population of Denver or Seattle. Imagine taking every man, woman, and child of a major American city and murdering them. That’s the scale of Fidel Castro’s crimes.
That is the true legacy of Fidel Castro: He was going to liberate the people of Cuba and then proceeded to put a military boot on their throats, telling them all to be grateful while he choked the life out of them. — Mike Lupica
His fastball has long since died. He still has a few curveballs which he throws at us routinely. – Nicholas Burns, United States State Department Spokesman
The first thing I noticed about Cuba is that there are billboards on every city block and every few miles in the countryside. And every single one of them is about the “Revolution” and its “achievements.” It is almost as if they are trying to sell it to the people, who don’t have a say in the matter … My personal favorite was a billboard on the highway announcing “La Salud Es La Revolución”(“Health Is The Revolution”), before getting off at a bus stop that, like about 95% of the other public facilities I encountered, had no soap or toilet paper … Another billboard saying “Los Cambios En Cuba Son Para Más Socialismo” (“The Changes In Cuba are for More Socialism”) was sitting on top of a nearly empty “super market” where Cubans go to queue for their allotment of rationed food. (Two Weeks in Cuba: Billboards and Ironies)
Obama was accused of “snubbing” the funeral of Baroness Thatcher in 2013, sending two aging former Secretaries of State to lead a delegation that included no representatives from the incumbent administration. As British Prime Minister, Lady Thatcher was a close friend and ally of U.S. President Ronald Reagan, with the two working side-by-side to help end the rule of Communism in Eastern Europe. Fidel Castro was a long-time enemy of America, famously bringing the country close to nuclear war in the early 1960s after agreeing to host Soviet missiles in Cuba. He ruled the island with an iron fist for decades before finally ceding power ten years ago as his health failed.
Elsewhere, we learn of something else that was Bush’s Fault:
“Then he looked at me and said, ‘How was I supposed to know that cowboy George Bush would announce he wanted us ‘dead or alive’ and then invade Afghanistan to hunt us down?’” Mitchell writes. “KSM explained that if the United States had treated 9/11 like a law enforcement matter, he would have had time to launch a second wave of attacks.” He was not able to do so because al-Qaeda was stunned “by the ferocity and swiftness of George W. Bush’s response.” … Mohammed also predicted “jihadi-minded brothers would immigrate to the United States” and take advantage of the country’s rights and laws until they were ready to attack.
And then there’s the usual chorus of “Islam Is Not To Blame” whenever a Muslim slaughters a group of innocent bystanders:
As soon as I found out the attacker was a Muslim Somali immigrant, I knew white people & Trump were to blame.
Gee, and one thought the victims were the people stabbed…
The Ohio State University assistant director of residence life allegedly expressed sympathy for Somali stabber Abdul Razak Ali Artan in a bizarre Facebook post Monday that has since gone viral. Stephanie Clemons Thompson urged her followers to have compassion for Artan after he expressed a desire “to kill a billion infidels” and then tried to kill as many as he could at OSU. She also urged people to “think of the pain he must have been in,” and used the hashtags #BlackLivesMatter and #SayHisName (which BLM uses to denote victims of police brutality).
“He actually loved America,” Ameer Kadar, who last saw Artan two weeks ago, told NBC News. “He was a very sweet and humble person,” Khan said. “He can never do such an act, honestly.”
While immigrants draw much of the attention, it’s their children who are proving to be the most fruitful recruiting ground for radical jihad in the U.S., accounting for at least half of the deadly attacks over the past decade.
Jihadists — violent and stealth — will use any and every opportunity to gain ground. They are particularly “good” at soliciting and manipulating angry youth – from every class and race – who are misfits or underdogs looking for a sense of purpose and personal power. The victimology narrative is a prerequisite for joining the ranks of jihadists, and look which group is featured below promoting Black Lives Matter: the unindicted co-conspirator to terrorism financing, CAIR.
Folks, there’s more than one swamp that needs draining…
Abbott: All right- you’re 40 years-old, you’re four times as old as this girl, and you can’t marry her, so you wait five years. By that time the little girl’s 15 and you’re 45. You’re only three times as old as that little girl. So you wait 15 years and when the girl is 30, you’re at 60. You’re only twice as old as that little girl.
Costello: She’s catching up.
Abbott: Yes, yes. Now here’s the question. How long do you have to wait until you and that little girl are the same age?
Costello: Now what kinda question is that? That’s ridiculous!
Abbott: Ridiculous or not, answer the question.
Costello: If I wait for that girl she’ll pass me up. She’ll wind up older than I am.
Abbott: What are you talking about?
Costello: She’ll have to wait for me!
Abbott: Why should she wait for you?
Costello: …I was nice enough to wait for her!
In America, we count electoral votes, not liberal wishes. There’s no fraudulent twist nor chicane turn through the labyrinthine calculus of the New Math that can result in either Hillary Clinton or Jill Stein claiming residence in the White House. Which is why some folks are beginning to suspect treachery on the part of the primary recount instigator. Dr. Stein’s surname intimates that one of her ancestors lived nearby a sizable rock. In the good doctor’s case, it’s becoming evident that she resides beneath one.
Green Party presidential candidate Jill Stein insists her recount campaigns in Wisconsin, Michigan and Pennsylvania are all about voter integrity, not politics. That’s a hard sell for many conservatives, who see the effort at best as a political stunt and fear the reason behind it could be much more nefarious. There is growing concern that the unprecedented Wisconsin recount could cost the Badger State its 10 electoral votes. State Rep. Dave Craig asserts that may have been by design. “That could have been one of the ideas behind (the recount),” said the Town of Vernon Republican. “It would be appalling and tyrannical if that is what is meant to occur by having this process unfold like that. To simply negate electoral votes of this election, I simply cannot come up with a word more fitting than treacherous.” Federal law demands the recount be completed within 35 days of the presidential election … And Stein wants the recount done by hand, a prospect that would take even longer, Haas told the newspaper. On Monday, the Elections Commission rejected Stein’s request for a hand-count. She quickly threatened a lawsuit. Stein’s complaint would be filed in Dane County, among the most liberal counties in the country … Hillary Clinton’s campaign over the weekend confirmed it would take part in recount initiatives despite the fact that the campaign’s counsel, Marc Elias, said an internal investigation has found no evidence of hacking of voting systems – a claim Stein and fellow liberals are pushing … The Obama administration in a statement to the New York Times said that the election was free from interference – from inside or outside the United States. Conservative critics charge that the real interference is coming from within, from liberals who don’t know when to say when. (THE SO-CALLED WISCONSIN RECOUNT)
A leftist like Stein calling for “voter integrity” is like Jack the Ripper coming out in support of women’s rights. Well, you can’t expect much from anyone who believes the recently departed communist hero Fidel Castro was a symbol of the “struggle for justice” — unless justice is when your political enemies have finally been dragged to the business end of a firing squad.
“Who won and who lost in the great Tet offensive against the cities? I’m not sure. The Vietcong did not win by a knockout, but neither did we. The referees of history may make it a draw.” — Walter Cronkite, February 27, 1968
Walter Cronkite’s remarks at the end of his February 27, 1968 evening news broadcast, four decades ago today, were a watershed in the history of the MSM’s credibility … Cronkite issued an implicit license to his journalistic colleagues to interject personal opinions into their factual reporting of the news. (Walter Cronkite, Vietnam, and the Decline of Media Credibility)
Cronkite’s slogan was, “And that’s the way it is.” But if it came out of his mouth, you could be sure of one thing: that’s the way it wasn’t. — Debbie Schlussel
“It was the first time in American history that a war has been declared over by an anchorman.” — David Halberstam
I hate to disagree with ya, Wally, especially since yer as dead as Doug MacArthur, but I was there, and I gotta tell ya — you and the rest of your crepuscular colleagues were chock full of the stuff with which the Viets fertilized their rice paddies. After the initial surprise at the scope of the attacks wore off, which was about as long as it took to get the Spookies airborne, Charlie had his conical hat handed to him. But that wasn’t what you chose to report. Which is primarily why I haven’t trusted the mainstream media for almost a half-century. And they’re only getting worse.
In the late-January calm of a Lunar New Year cease-fire, seventy thousand communist troops shattered the celebration, attacking more than a hundred South Vietnamese cities and towns. They struck along the coast, then presumed secure. They shelled the big U.S. complex at Cam Ranh Bay and stormed numerous towns in the central highlands. They attacked the mountain resort of Dalat and invaded thirteen of sixteen provincial capitals in the Mekong Delta. They captured the ancient northern capital of Hue and carried the war into the heart of Saigon—even into the U.S. embassy compound. This was the most daring operation of the war, and Americans watched in horror as the bloody spectacle unfolded on their television screens. They had been told the military situation was in hand, and now those assurances lay shattered in the American consciousness. But Tet had been a desperation move by North Vietnam, beset by a relentless American killing machine. And the Allied response was awesome. The communists lost ten thousand men in the first few days of the offensive, compared to 249 Americans dead and five hundred South Vietnamese. Overall, throughout the months-long battle, the communists lost nearly forty-eight thousand men. The North Vietnamese had sought to deliver the decisive military blow that would knock the Americans out of the region. They failed. They failed so miserably that they lost their ability to wage war in the South … Into this military drama, in the first weeks of Tet, comes Walter Cronkite of CBS News. He travels around, talks to people like a real reporter, presumably takes notes. And then he goes home and delivers a report to the American people that totally misses the story. At this pregnant moment of the war, when prospects of victory never looked brighter, he concludes that the war is a stalemate and probably unwinnable. (Cronkite’s Vietnam Blunder)
Now, I admit, Tet was a pretty damn big surprise at first, both to us base camp GIs who were suddenly called upon to act as riflemen, but especially to the in-country press correspondents, most of whom, save for a few intrepid souls like Joe Galloway, Sean Flynn, and Mike Herr, rarely left their comfortable Saigon billets or the company of their boom-boom girls. Hell, it was no wonder that the stories they filed during Tet teetered on the edge of full blown panic, the more so after a few foolhardy and short-lived VC sappers blew a hole in the wall of the U.S. Embassy and charged onto the grounds. But when a network anchor like Cronkite, touted (mostly by his employer) as the “most trusted man in America”, decided to ignore direct evidence from the combat zone and throw in the towel, a larger surprise would have been if he didn’t take most of the country along with him.
The Tet Offensive in early 1968 changed the course of the Vietnam War. The North Vietnamese Army, well-trained and well-equipped, was defeated on the battlefield in every encounter, but the shock to Americans at home solidified anti-war sentiment. There was no “light at the end of the tunnel”. (Global Security.org)
Of course there was no light at the end of the tunnel…we’d just finished blowing the damn thing apart! But Cronkite and the anti-war crowd didn’t see it that way…
Although a decent fellow in person, Cronkite was the archetypal big-name liberal journalist, spinning the news for decades. Sometimes it was rather subliminal, including his signature subtle sneer … His biggest whopper was about the Tet Offensive. The Viet Cong launched a desperate all-out assault, suffered very heavy losses, mostly it was over within a day, and ultimately the VC gained no territory. However, “the most trusted man in America” gave them a propaganda victory, reporting that the Vietnam War was hopeless. Public opinion promptly turned against the war. Ho Chi Minh should’ve given Cronkite a medal, an honorary VC generalship, and a dozen roses. (The Ugly Truth Of Six More Leftist “Heroes”)
Our half-hearted efforts in Vietnam, in large part because of Walter Cronkite’s on-air attacks, have had long-lasting effects, decades later. Even Osama Bin Laden has cited them in his lack of fear in attacking America. He studied our military history, with Vietnam as its cornerstone of cutting and running. That is Walter Cronkite’s legacy. So are the generations of liars who modeled themselves after him and have spent decades on TV news tearing and dumbing down America from within. (Buh-Bye, Walter Cronkite: He Lost the Vietnam War for U.S. on TV, Had American Blood on His Hands)
The avuncular Walter Cronkite, with a reputation for veracity so strong that it once precluded doubt, unwittingly or otherwise blazed the way for today’s herd of blatantly biased “journalists”, the incorrigible distortionists responsible for destroying the credibility of mainstream media in the United States. It’s a sad legacy for a once trusted reporter. But that’s the way it is.
This Thanksgiving, it’s appropriate to give thanks to the turkeys in the mainstream media, and to all the scruffy left-winged gobblers in the Obama mis-Administration. We couldn’t have done it without you!
Not that many Democrats or members of the press (but I repeat myself) seem to have learned anything from their election day massacre, other than that it’s now okay to hate the Electoral College as well as white people, Republicans, the Founding Fathers, and the American flag. In fact, it’s entirely appropriate that the favored candidate to lead the Jackasses into their uncertain future is a black Marxist Muslim from a district in Minnesota populated largely by refugees from Somalia, land of pirates, warlords, and radical Islamists. After all, it ain’t yer daddy’s Party anymore, Dorothy…
Hell, it ain’t even Democratic.