Via Jim and then Hit and Run, I see that Robert Ringer, Looker-Outer for Number One, marrier of Panamanian Playboy models, second-oldest Ayn Randian (mais pas encore !) in the world, has thrown in the towel. La liberté, cette dieu-salope, elle est morte ! Ringer casts his lot instead with something he calls "practical conservatism." And what is Practical Conservatism? We're glad you asked. Practical conservatism:
is an ideology that believes in adherence to the tenets of pure libertarianism to the fullest practical extent, but also believes in the use of force, when and where it is absolutely necessary, to protect not only the lives and property of citizens, but to maintain society’s generally accepted code of conduct.This all has something to do with theory vs.
There's probably a serious response to all this. You could probably say that pure libertarianism, whatever on earth that is, defines "society's generally accepted code of conduct" as having to do with shit like stealin', killin', rapin', wearin' brown shoes with a charcoal suit, and other such grave violations of a person's life, liberty, and fashionable decorum. Libertarianism, which is not anarachism, as Ringer seems to believe, does in fact believe that a state with a mandate to use force, derived from the consent of the goverened, is a good thing, since police and courts can keep bad people from killing nice people. We simply believe that such powers should be closely circumscribed so as to prevent a civilizational disorder known as Waco-Shiavo-J.Edgarhooverism. Libertarianism is, in fact, abundantly practical about cultural matters. We, the libertarians, recognize that there is fuck all you can do about culture unless you wrap your women in burkhas and start cutting out the eyes of pornographers. And even then, alas . . .
Anyway, Ringer has it in his head that the real problem with the West is rap music, video games, and pornography--the last quite odd from a man who, as mentioned, married a Playboy Bunny, though I suppose he'd tell you that he'd never have married her if he'd discovered that she'd also modeled at Ifuckhorsesforcash.com or some such. He also disapproves of inarticulate college athletes, "Superstar Trial Lawyers," the Supreme Court, the cancellation of Matlock, the shoulder-strap seatbelt, and these kids today. He is, in other words, your grandfather without a nurse around to feed him his pills and take away the remote.
Look. People who complain about "superstar trial lawyers" are really complaining about the fact that O.J. Simpson killed a white woman and got off. Well, consider it cosmic repayment for slavery, which Ringer seems to consider the foundation of multiculturalism. (No. Really. He seems to believe that the crime of the slave trade was creating a multiethnic Republic. Words fail.) Or else they're still pissed about the McDonald's hot-coffee case. Every time I hear the phrase "frivolous lawsuit" from one of these crotchety post-libertarian scoldmongers, I want to scream that the much-vaunted founding fathers of this country were a bunch of petty fuckers who ran around suing the shit out of everyone and each other, and that our intellectual and political forebears in old Anglo-Saxonia practically made a national sport out of the tort.
All of the preceeding, in any case, is mere prelude and excuse for me to note that it was hardly rhyming negroes who invented bawdy verse. Thusly do I commend to you, and wish you a good weekend, this lovely verse from "A Ramble in St. Jame's Park" by John Wilmot, The Second Earl of Rochester (1647-1680):
So a proud bitch does lead about
Of humble curs the amorous rout,
Who most obsequiously do hunt
The savory scent of salt-swoln cunt.
Some power more patient now relate
The sense of this surprising fate.
Gods! that a thing admired by me
Should fall to so much infamy.
Had she picked out, to rub her arse on,
Some stiff-pricked clown or well-hung parson,
Each job of whose spermatic sluice
Had filled her cunt with wholesome juice,
I the proceeding should have praised
In hope sh' had quenched a fire I raised.
Such natural freedoms are but just:
There's something generous in mere lust.
But to turn a damned abandoned jade
When neither head nor tail persuade;
To be a whore in understanding,
A passive pot for fools to spend in!
The devil played booty, sure, with thee
To bring a blot on infamy.