Monday, April 23, 2018

The Naked Maja Ja Ja Ja Ja Ja!

Sharing Nude Photos of Current or Ex-Partners Protected Under First Amendment 

by Lloyd Brumfeld


Is distributing intimate photos of current or previous sexual partners without their consent protected by the First Amendment? 

A state appeals court says yes.

Now it will be up to the state attorney general's office to defend the state's "revenge porn" law, which was passed in 2015 and punishes those who post intimate images from previous or current relationships online.

The Tyler-based 12th Court of Appeals said the law is unconstitutional because it's too broad and infringes on free speech, The Texas Tribune reported.

In his findings in the case, Chief Justice James Worthen said the First Amendment usually prohibits "content-based" restrictions.

The court also said that the law was vague and infringed on the rights of third parties who might unwittingly share intimate images, according to the Associated Press.

This could be yours.

to the 


Friday, April 20, 2018







James Comey´s memos leaked. Read them here 

Bound to happen.

So says the perpetrator of the largest
weasel move in American politics

Sanctimonious Comey warns Rudy 
of excessive pride and ego.

 Links and Quips Courtesy of
News Forum Homepage

Wednesday, April 18, 2018

Barbara Bush (1925-2018)

Beloved source of character and strength.
An asset to her family and our nation
Refreshing for her lack of agitation.
Barbara lived a good life of great length.
A life patrician, gracious, down-to-earth
Regal, yet a quintessential mother
A fount of strong opinion like no other,
But muted, disciplined, and tinged with mirth.
Unusually poised in public life
She had an inner beauty very rare.
Happy to have prematurely aged
Resplendent in her crown of snow white hair
In no way mean, her mind always engaged,
Proud, yet humble, and always the ideal wife.


Married 73 years

Please don't miss Brit Hume's wonderful hearftfelt tribute 
to Barbara Bush 

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

But What if Teddy Didn't 
Want to be Great?

by Mark Steyn


April 16,2018

I had minimal expectations of Chappaquiddick The Movie, which opened despite the best efforts of the Kennedy family and their various retainers and enablers. I have always been revolted by the fact that Ted, after killing Mary Jo Kopechne, did not have the decency to do a John Profumo and retire from public life for the rest of his days - and I was even more revolted by the way Massachusetts voters did not have the decency to impose that choice upon him.

But utter contempt for your protagonist doesn't make for very interesting drama. So it is to the film's benefit that its director, writers and Jason Clarke in the lead role manage to locate enough humanity in the empty waddling husk of Teddy to make a compelling story. Mr Clarke is Australian, his director John Curran is American but has spent much of his career Down Under, and the screenwriters Taylor Allen and Andrew Logan are two first-timers born a decade after Chappaquiddick and who'd apparently never heard the word until 2008. That combination of outsiders and neophytes may be one reason why this film is considerably more gripping and potent than a cookie-cutter limousine-liberal yawnfest like The Post.

In the shorthand of history, Chappaquiddick is a stand-alone event, but it occurred, in fact, on the July weekend in 1969 that Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon - and it arose from a reunion of the "Boiler Room Girls", the devoted young ladies who'd worked on Robert Kennedy's presidential campaign of the previous year. 

So Teddy, the youngest Senate Majority Whip in history, is nevertheless staggering in the shadow of both his dazzling brother's recent assassination and the fulfillment of his other assassinated brother's most audacious challenge. He is there, ostensibly, to compete in the Edgartown Yacht Club's annual regatta, in the family sailboat Victura, which his other dead brother, Joe Jr, killed in the war, first sailed over thirty years earlier. 

One feels entirely confident that, if the Kennedy patriarch - old Joe, stroke-afflicted but still running the show - had expressed a preference over which of his four sons would be the only one to survive, Teddy would have been last on the list. 

Handome is as handsome does.

We meet him early on, in his room at the Shiretown Inn, climbing into his swim trunks and checking himself in the mirror before heading for the beach and the girls. Pushing forty, he still seems to have his puppy fat, a soft and doughy middle-aged child.

There is, as it happens, another brother - or "brother": Kennedy cousin Joe Gargan, who lost his parents at a young age and was raised by Teddy's parents as (almost) one of their own. 

As played by Ed Helms, Joe is the conscience of the picture: he doesn't exactly do the right thing, but he's broadly in favor of others doing the right thing, which, in the moral universe of the Kennedys, gives him a sporting chance of winding up a couple of circles of hell further out from where the rest of them are headed. He's officially Ted's lawyer but more importantly his fixer. So we see him in the payphone outside the Shiretown Inn, on the line to the Senator in Washington, reassuring him that the bedroom for "the girl" has been taken care of.

Phone booths are a kind of motif of the picture and its milieu: 1969 is the pre-cellular age, and too many nosy desk clerks like to listen in on the room lines. Ted isn't good at a lot of things (he flubs the sailboat race after steering the Victura into a buoy) but he knows where the payphones are, and he knows how to work them. 

The Senator is married, of course, but it's understood by all that Joan Kennedy never comes to regatta weekend. When her husband gets into trouble, she's prevailed upon to show up, because it's part of the deal. But she's a prop, and in this film almost a non-speaking part: She has just one line, three words delivered to Ted when he climbs into the car and thanks her for coming. She responds by suggesting he, er, do to himself what he's done to her and almost every other woman he's used and discarded over the years.

Jason Clarke's is not exactly a sympathetic portrait, but it is rounded: his Teddy is self-absorbed and self-loathing, both aware of his weakness and cowardice, and yet unable to overcome the Kennedy family's sense of its own indispensability. You get a sense of the peculiarly isolating quality of American politics at its upper echelons, so different from the unglamorous parliamentary life of other countries. 

This Ted is a lonely man who's never alone, buffed and polished by a round-the-clock retinue. He's a brand, assumed to be a shoo-in for the '72 presidential nomination, though he himself seems to have no particular enthusiasm for it, and, by comparison to their love for Bobby, even the girls' encouragement seems pro forma and dutiful. His wheelchair-bound speech-afflicted father, in a gothic performance by Bruce Dern, manages to loose off one complete sentence in the picture, albeit a word longer than Joan Kennedy's: "You'll. Never. Be. Great." Forced through his slack, hanging lips to his last son, there must surely be, for a Kennedy scion, no more damning indictment.

But what if Ted doesn't want to be great? What if he'd just like twenty minutes away from it all sitting on the hood of his Olds parked on the edge of a deserted beach with a girl who seems to feel a connection to him.
Ah, but even then the talk is only of politics and destiny…

What happened is well known: The party to thank the Boiler Room Girls of his late brother's campaign is well lubricated. He leaves with a blonde, and then, instead of turning left for the ferry to Edgartown, he swings right onto a dirt road leading to a deserted beach. 

At a wooden bridge with no guard rails Teddy makes his own personal moon shot: the car sails through the air and lands upside down in a dark tidal pond. The guy gets out and makes it to the surface. He leaves the girl down there. All this has been the subject of innumerable books and magazine articles and newspaper columns, but it is shocking to see it, in heartless, prosaic, unsparing, detail. 

The sodden Senator walks all the way back to the party, past houses with lights burning, full of people who could have called for help, who themselves could have helped. Instead, he totters on to his fixers, and tells them, self-pityingly, "I'm never going to be president.”

Mary Jo Kopechne is something of a cipher in her own story: She led a short, varied life, but, as played by Kate Mara, she's mainly there to look the part, "the girl". John Curran, directing with unflashy efficiency, nevertheless conjures the horror of her final hours: We see Mary Jo in the car at the bottom of the pond, then Ted back in the inn soaking in the tub; Mary Jo pressed up against the shrinking air pocket, Ted adjusting his tie and combing his hair; Mary Jo sobbing and gasping out her last "Hail, Mary" at the hour of her death, Ted heading down to breakfast with supporters in the hotel dining room - until he's interrupted by Joe Gargan, aghast to discover it's the morning after and that Kennedy still hasn't reported the accident. 

And yet Joe too slips reflexively into damage-control mode.

The normal reaction is that of the Chappaquiddick fisherman and his son rounding the bend. The kid is first to spot the upturned Oldsmobile: "Dad!" And the guy tells him to run, run to the nearest house, and the boy pounds the dusty road as fast as he can. But that's why he's a fisherman, not a fixer man. Even before the body's brought up, Mary Jo is fading from the drama: She's no longer a flesh-and-blood human being, no longer "the girl"; she's just a problem, to be fixed - permanently. 

Ted returns to Hyannis Port for what he assumes will be a spot of afternoon tea with his dad, but, when the nurse motions him into the sitting room, he discovers a vast army of Camelot courtiers lined up behind the chintz sofa - Ted Sorensen, Sargent Shriver, and pre-eminently Bob McNamara, irresistibly conjured by Clancy Brown and smoothly transferring his talents from the Bay of Pigs to a bay with only one pig. 

Joe Kennedy's called in the heavyweights, A-list fixers who despise Ted's fixers as Z-list fixers.

This is a more sophisticated and blackly comic view of the nature of politics than, say, George Clooney's Ides of March. The acidic glamour of power corrodes even Mary Jo's fellow Boiler Room Girls. No sooner are they informed that their friend is dead than one of them steps forward to volunteer: "What can we do to help the Senator?" 

The ladies themselves, having kept their silence for half-a-century, are said to deny this version of events, and the words themselves are put in the mouth of a fictional Boiler Roomer created for the movie: "Rachel" (Olivia Thirlby). But, whatever their motivations, the actions of almost everyone in this tale facilitate the replacement of one victim by another: Edward M Kennedy.

The Lion of the Senate according to John McCain

Chappaquiddick is an excellent film that deserves to find an audience. John Curran tells his tale in a matter-of-fact semi-procedural style, punctuated by moments when Teddy seems to be, so to speak, floating dreamily through his own drama: At the height of the crisis, the camera alights on him flying a kite, blank-eyed and beaming and far away from dad's schemes of greatness.

The film's visual language subtly underlines the journey he's on: the Edgartown scenes are bright and airy, all sun-dappled porches and spacious vistas, innocent and optimistic. 

Back at Hyannis Port, the sitting room is literally smoke-filled, the airless, darkened corridors and landings have turned their faces from the world, the better to construct an alternative reality and impose it on the actual facts. 

In Jason Clarke's performance, Teddy's self-doubt is his most (only?) human quality. But the aim of Joe's fixers is to get the last son to the point where he stops feeling conflicted and unsure, and understands that he's a Kennedy and that that trumps all. 

As I wrote way back when:

Ted's the star, and there's no room to namecheck the bit players. What befell him was a thing, a place. As Joan Vennochi wrote in The Boston Globe:

'Like all figures in history , and like those in the Bible, for that matter‚ Kennedy came with flaws. Moses had a temper. Peter betrayed Jesus. Kennedy had Chappaquiddick, a moment of tremendous moral collapse.’

Actually, Peter denied Jesus, rather than 'betrayed' him, but close enough for Catholic-lite Massachusetts. And if Moses having a temper never led him to leave some gal at the bottom of the Red Sea, well, let's face it, he doesn't have Ted's tremendous legislative legacy, does he?

As I mentioned the other day, that bit turns up in the new movie. Joan Vennochi's words are put in Ted's mouth: He says defensively that all men are flawed - "Moses had a temper, Peter betrayed Jesus." And my cheap riposte - "Moses didn't leave a girl at the bottom of the Red Sea" - is given to the outraged Joe Gargan, already on his way out, supplanted by better, colder, harder fixers. When the guy gets out and leaves the girl at the bottom of the sea, it offends the natural order: Joe is telling him he's not a man.

And Ted barely reacts: The angry words fall off him like water off a Chappaquiddick duck's back. Because human feeling is for humans. And he doesn't have to be a man; he's a Kennedy.

The wrong person died in this car accident.

[NOTE: Mark Steyn is an international bestselling author, a Top 41 recording artist, and a leading Canadian human rights activist. His latest book is "The Undocumented Mark Steyn: Don't Say You Weren't Warned"]

Saturday, April 14, 2018

The FreeThinke Owlette



Allies Hit Three Facilities to Degrade Syria's 
Chemical Weapons Program 
(Washington Examiner) 

Huge Explosions’ in Damascus as AIRSTRIKES Fall on Syria After Donald Trump’s Announcement 
Daily Express [UK]


Comments to This Post are Now Closed

Wednesday, April 11, 2018

When Government-Authorized Thugs Break Into An Aattorney's Office to Impound Confidential Files in an Ongoing Politically-Motivated Investigation

must be declared 

SILVER  FIDDLE  Posted the Following 
at Always On Watch Yesterday

Donald Trump became the target of a hitjob conspiracy--planned from inside government--at the time of his nomination.

The conspiracy failed, he became president, and now the conspirators had a big mess to clean up. 

Slow-rolling appointment approvals was one tactic, but the iron-clad weapon of diabolical brilliance was getting Mr. Magoo and the co-conspirator GOOPers to appoint a Special Prostitutor. 

The Special Prostitutor is Comey's BFF and he's staffed up with Hillary voters, but we're supposed to believe he's "beyond reproach."

Besides providing cover for the conspirators, this keeps President Trump tangled up, smothers all good news, and given abusive lawfare prostitutors' proven ability to "indict a ham sandwich," will take down the President and everyone around him.

It is clear: We were not supposed to elect Donald Trump. The Establishment is correcting a voter mistake.

The federal government is shot through with arrogant criminals who think they are above the law, because they are above the law.

We are a nation of men and women, not a nation of laws.

The waters are now permanently poisoned; reason and charity have flown; people will never again believe anything good about their political enemies, suspicion will reign, and all future politicians will be de facto illegitimate in the eyes of the half of voters who opposed them.

The lawyers have made a mockery of the law. It is a sword of Damocles to the powerful: Stay in line, don't defy the cabal, or we will get you.

Donald J. Trump was not supposed to be President--the corrupt cartel that runs this nation is correcting the voters' mistake.

And make no mistake; this also serves as a warning to others outside the political class: 


We will destroy you. No business person can withstand the legal and personal scrutiny. No one. 

The elites pick acceptable candidates for us so we can enjoy our sham elections every four years.

It sickens me to see this happening. See all the rage-filled haters, blood in their eyes, cheering this on? That is our future.

The only consolation is the entire project is fiscally unsustainable and will eventually collapse.


An excellent summation, Silver. It deserves to be the centerpiece of a post all its own.  I would only have said that it seems most likely that Mr. Trump was a target for this sort of Persecution by "Kangaroo Justice" from the moment he made it clear he was serious about seeking the nomination.

I have to say that I saw all this for what it is from the moment all the obviously-fabricated BILGE about "Collusion with Russia" started to dominate the scene.  The unmistakable scent of freshly-laid BS has choked us, and befouled the air ever since.

From the journalistic coup d'etat we call WATERGATE. –– through the spurious, trumped-up fracas over the Iran-Contra Investigation, which was OBVIOUSLY ginned up for the sole purpose of trying to UNSEAT President Reagan, –– through the absurd Carnival-style Pornographic Sideshow of the Moronica Lewinsky Affair leading to B.J. Clinton's Impeachment and Disbarment, but which backfired badly on the GOP, because they refused to CONVICT BJ in the senate –– through the seemingly endless dispute over Hanging Chads, which developed from AL GORE's REFUSAL to CONCEDE the election to George W. Bush, –– to the PRESENT Crisis of Confidence manufactured in a nefarious attempt to GET RID of PRESIDENT TRUMP ––– ALL these unwelcome, unwarranted machinations form a PATTERN:

Those in Permanent Positions of Power (i.e. "The Deep State") now openly bare their fangs and unsheath their claws in a PUBLIC DISPLAY of stubborn UNWLLNGNESS to ACCEPT the RESULTS of an ELECTION followed by a lengthy, often brutal campaign to OVERTURN the RESULTS of that ELECTION by any and all means possible short of an ARMED PALACE COUP –– and who knows when THAT may soon appear in the horizon?

Slowly-but-surely for the past one-hundred years the LEFT in the guise of Progressivism has been chipping away at the CONSTITUTION.  If this monstrous coup d'etat against President Trump is allowed to succeed, the minions advocating DICTATORSHIP by an OLIGARCHY of PERMANENTLY ESTABLISHED ELITES–– many of whom may not even be U.S. CITIZENS –– will have established itself as our NEW form of government.

This means the Representative Republic designed by our Founding Fathers will be forever LOST, and We the People will be rendered powerless.  We will have lost ALL our RIGHTS, and will become SUBJECTS instead of  CITIZENS for the foreseeable future.