The Supreme Court finally takes on gay marriage, and this makes for some excitement. But it’s not really all that. If I were gay, I imagine it would be a bigger deal. More of an event if I had any skin in the game, wink. But the case for legalization is air tight. As your one decent history teacher used to say, the arc of history bends toward justice. The outcome is a pretty sure thing. Without palpable tension in the third act, it’s not really much of a thriller.

If you’re one of the culture warriors, the whole thing’s different. There’s a sense of dread and reckoning all around. As every conservative is a Constitutional expert, flanked only by more brilliant legal minds to the right and left, they know the involvement of the Supreme Court is bad news. There the conceptual headwinds of ‘freedom’ and ‘equality’ run fast, and bigotry constructed as ‘traditional values’ won’t stand. Which is the long way ’round to say it’s all over. And the losers know it, poor things.

So this would be a good time to get in some parting shots.

In some sense, it doesn’t really matter how the Supreme Court rules on the gay marriage case it’s hearing today. The culture war is over on this front, and gay marriage has won.

Megan McArdle threw this punch early.

At this point, it’s just a matter of time. In some sense, the sexual revolution is over . . . and the forces of bourgeois repression have won.

You people just had to have your Marriage, didn’t you? Now you’re all dorks. Happy now?

You thought the fifties were conformist? Wait until all those fabulous “confirmed bachelors” and maiden schoolteachers are expected to ditch their cute little one-bedrooms and join the rest of America in whining about crab grass, HOA restrictions, and the outrageous fees that schools want to charge for overnight soccer trips.

Goodbye swingin’ nation. Is that Tailgunner Joe? You old dog (. . he’s the only one we bother to call ‘tailgunner’ any more.) Here I have a list of 57 Americans suspected of face-to-face relations in the shadows of America’s rest stops and bus stations. And how many of you pinkos will protest? Hmm? They say for the want of a nail, the shoe was lost. For the want of a pervert, the McArdle was lost, then left to her devices. And is it me, or is that Larry Craig one helluva dancer? Here’s Mark Steyn:

. . there are those who argue it’s a victory for the powerful undertow of bourgeois values over the surface ripples of sexual transgressiveness

*stentorian* . . In A World. Where boys kissed girls. And Wonder Bread didn’t hurt your heart. And hot arsenic meant fine tobacco — they did the unthinkable. They kissed boys. They were . . THE SURFRIPPLES OF SEXESSIVESSNESS. Oh. Really.

Gays will now be as drearily suburban as the rest of us. A couple of years back, I saw a picture in the paper of two chubby old queens tying the knot at City Hall in Vancouver, and the thought occurred that Western liberalism had finally succeeded in boring all the fun out of homosexuality.

Remember when the queens were reedy and attractive? Oh MAN Mark does. He thought about smooching one. But now with all their open-mouth chewing, and their legal whining, without the muscled butt-ripping and orgasmery, they’re not as handsome. God opens a window but he turns off a lamp, on the vanity. You’re no longer in Mark’s league fays.

Oh my what’s that thing called? Where your opponent beats you in the game and all you do is slag them? Not sour grapes, it’s something else. Let me know.

Is there anything that whines more gratingly than a Mark Steyn? He is the annoying power tool. You’d think the man had been bashed in a Rangoon prison or something, and now he’s wildly out of balance, chattering and over-heated. So disappointed. Thanks very much for the state of things. Not even the ants can manage properly, what a nauseating display. Then there’s you, could you be any dumber? (idiot.)

Mitt Romney lost the election. (jerks.) Can you believe how it happened? (Salvadorans.) What a stupendous country we’re living in, huh? (Mozambique.)

Tribal America

To an immigrant such as myself (not the undocumented kind, but documented up to the hilt, alas), one of the most striking features of election-night analysis was the lightly worn racial obsession. On Fox News, Democrat Kirsten Powers argued that Republicans needed to deal with the reality that America is becoming what she called a “brown country.” Her fellow Democrat Bob Beckel observed on several occasions that if the share of the “white vote” was held down below 73 percent Romney would lose.

As if these racial hugs weren’t bad enough. This was Fox News! Behaving like a melange artisan down at DeAundray’s Halal Shack. Good lord. But I’m no bigot, he whispered.

In the end, it was 72 percent and he did. Beckel’s assertion — that if you knew the ethnic composition of the electorate you also knew the result — turned out to be correct.

This is what less enlightened societies call tribalism . .

You’re Bushmen of the Kalahari, I tells ya. This is what clueless people do, lob ‘tribalism’ at things that disappoint. Not racist! The browns are predictable as fuck, and predictability is for insects. You ethnic-voted for the black fool so Romney lost. Take a bow or a rumba or whatever.

That same year America held an election, and Ronald Reagan won a landslide victory. Nobody talked about tribal-vote shares back then, but had the percentage of what Beckel calls the “white vote” been the same in 2012 as it was in 1980 (88 percent), Mitt Romney would have won in an even bigger landslide than Reagan.

Back when America was great, 88 percent of the voters were white and Ronald Reagan was king. Just saying! You get the point, though. White people vote for whites because of political intelligence, national identity and a none-too-disagreeable dash of élan. But now — have you seen California?

If one were informed that, say, the population of Nigeria had gone from 80 percent black in 1970 to 40 percent black today, one would suspect something rather odd and unnatural had been going on. Twenty years ago, Rwanda was about 14 percent Tutsi. Now it’s just under 10 percent. So it takes a bunch of Hutu butchers getting out their machetes and engaging in seven-figure genocide to lower the Tutsi population by a third. But, when the white population of California falls by half, that’s “natural,” just the way it is, one of those things, could happen to anyone.

White people are being harvested. It’s true! From the next few paragraphs: Habsburgs, Romanovs, Balkans, Western Hemisphere, Anglo-Celts, Hallmark Cinco de Mayo card, Latin American society, Jason DeParle, the aura of Central America, laundromats, money-transfer stores, jobless men, drink and sleep in the sun, no city government, little community. (utopia.)

Bleh bleh my final point: Or as Peggy Lee sang long ago in a lost land, “Mañana is soon enough for me.” And ‘Adios,’ suckers.

The eternally disappointed Mark Steyn. He still doesn’t like the President.

. . most of all the future will belong to people who look back at the Obama era and marvel that there was a courageous far-sighted man willing to take on the tough task of slowing the rise of the oceans because the future will belong to people on viable land masses.

The non-viable land masses being cursed holograms. Damn you, laser clouds. Is climate change stupid or what? I mean, pffft. Right? Take that, science.

This futuristic shtick is a cheap’n’cheesy rhetorical device (I speak as the author of a book called “After America,” whose title is less futuristic than you might think) but it seems to play well with the impressionable Obammysoxers of the press corps.

Oh everybody is lame. Steyn has been doing this whiny schtick since the day he was born. And yet, look!

Zoiks. If there’s another human being as cheap’n’cheesy as Mark Steyn, I will be shocked. I will be like . . WHAAAA?

It’s bad enough that lumbering ginger bitch Mark Steyn pesters the internet with his whining. Today he’s crying about an Obama campaign graphic, btw. A flag! Bastards!

But can you believe he sings? Or tries to?

Mark Steyn is an international bestselling author, a Top 41 recording artist, and a leading Canadian human-rights activist . .

“Top 41?” There is no Top 41, Dino. Any more than there’s a “Billboard Hot 99.” Or a “Kapitol Records.” Larfs.

“A Marshmallow World,” his Christmas single with Jessica Martin, reached number seven on Amazon’s easy-listening bestsellers, and number 41 on Amazon’s main pop chart . .

Marshmallow World! Great fartz of schmaltz. On YouTube, there’s also a Sweet Gingerbread Man. I shit you not! Typing and giggling, it’s harder than it looks.

The man has no soul, so how does he carry a tune? He doesn’t. He can’t come close. Mark Steyn has the music in him, and your budgie is Don Giovanni. He’s flat as a Texas panhandle:

After National Review’s lumbering ginger bitch, Mark Steyn, wrote a pissy post about Sandra Fluke, I criticized him. Here he was:

. . she has concluded that the most urgent need facing the Brokest Nation in History is for someone else to pay for the contraception of 30-year-old children.

Sandra never “concluded” that. But this is about contraception, so she’s a child. Don’t you know anything about the national debt? That’s adult stuff.

Anyway, Steyn read the post –

More fan mail re: #SandraFluke column: thumpandwhip.com/2012/09/08/mar…

— Mark Steyn (@MarkSteynOnline) September 9, 2012

. . and now I’ve got a thousand ginger twats saying I’m stupid.

Abortion and contraception are the only technology we have to manage pregnancy? The ONLY TECHNOLOGY we have to manage pregnancy?? We have no other sort of technology related to pregnancy at all in this world? So “managing” pregnancy means nothing but preventing or ending it?

Once you’re accidentally pregnant, the technologies are pretty lame. Don’t you think? There’s a morning-after pill, I suppose, but that’s cold homicide buddy.

Way to take something out of context. Mark’s point was that contraception is not the job of a federal government. If Sandra cannot afford the $4 pill then maybe should try the old tried and true “just say no” approach to birth control

Way to take something out of context. Sandra was talking about Georgetown’s healthcare plan. It costs students $1800 a year, but it won’t cover birth control. Even though it would likely save the plan money. Strange, don’t you think?

Back in days of yore they used that outdated model of keeping penises out of their vaginas but what is a middle aged student about to start a career in her mid-30′s supposed to do today?

Back then things were smarter. We used to lobotomize certain people. We used to drown others. We used to hang other others.

Your arguement is incoherent at best and again as other posters have mentioned proves the point that liberals want daddy government to protect and care for them cradle to grave.

Oh, youe . .

1.) “Please Mark instruct us. Tell us educated people what we should do with our lives.”

Now there’s irony for ya…

2.) “Tell us educated people”

Based on the quality of your writing and the coherency of your argument, I’m not sure “us” is an appropriate word choice there.

Subjectivists. Ouch my tuxedo ears. I could have pleased the crowd with a “we,” but then I’d be a fool. Wouldn’t I? This is so National Review, it’s pitch perfect.

The only coherent thought in this article is when she quotes Mark. I fear that this is written by another college uneducated 30 year old…

Hey! I’m a dood dammit.

First I must comment on how incoherent this commentary was. It made little sense, and the maligning of the English language indicates someone who learned English from rap albums. Second your point about contraception, well let’s jaunt over to the more enlightened Europe, where the evil white, christian( sorry too few of those), yuppies are barely reproducing at all, as in the case of the vampire sex is merely healthy excersise, and reproduction is strictly for the realm of the living.

Heeeeeee’s Mr. Coherent, doot-do-dooo. Yikes. Somebody call filmmaker Martin Excersise, there’s a Euro-vampire treatment he’s gotta read.

Steyn is addressing his comments to rational adults. That’s why you missing the point.

I not miss point! I get point! Very good point!

How far you’ve fallen if the greatness of a man is to be measured by his enemies.

You came all the way to my blog to say this. Telling. Anyway, thank you Steyn ye ginger bitch for sending me your dullards. This was entertaining graffiti. And now, some hot dogs.

Pity poor Mark Steyn, lumbering ginger bitch of National Review. He dislikes everybody. He can’t stand everything. You people, hot damn. Use your stupid brains.

Sandra Fluke has been blessed with a quarter-million dollars of elite education, and, on the evidence of Wednesday night, is entirely incapable of making a coherent argument. She has enjoyed the leisurely decade-long varsity once reserved for the minor sons of Mitteleuropean grand dukes, and she has concluded that the most urgent need facing the Brokest Nation in History is for someone else to pay for the contraception of 30-year-old children.

What a pucky diatribe. Thesis: you Sandras are lame. How so? Ladies and children, who thinks about these? Princes. Belgians. Cat people. Women.

Don’t the tough guys grow pale when it matters. A pregnancy is a deadly serious thing. Other than abortion, which is a mechanical intervention, contraception is the only technology we have to manage it. How can I overemphasize the importance of contraception to a healthy society? To any society?

Please Mark instruct us. Tell us educated people what we should do with our lives. Tell us children what to do after we’ve given up managing the reproduction of the human race. Go to war. Stab somebody in the eye. Launch rocket bombs. Or should we marry you? Should we all quit our jobs and birth your musclehead rats?

Dyspeptic camel or lonely, heartbroken man? You tell me. Remember that he works for Bill Buckley’s propaganda mill, if that helps. Mark Steyn flashes the same winning charm that illuminates the National Review. You should see what he thinks of the Summer Olympics. And London. And foreigners, and people everywhere, in general.

In 21st-century London, traffic moves at fewer miles per hour than it did before the internal-combustion engine was invented without the added complication of fleets of Third World thug bureaucrats and the permanent floating crap game of transnationalist freeloaders being dumped on its medieval street plan.

Translation: I hate you.

Nevertheless, having drawn the short straw of hosting the games, Londoners felt it a point of honor that the city be able to demonstrate the ability to ferry minor globalist hangers-on from their favorite whorehouse in Mayfair to the Olympic Village in the unfashionable East End in time for the quarter-finals of the flatwater taekwondo.

Roughly speaking: You suck.

The psychology of the traffic cop enters into the opening ceremony, too. One becomes inordinately fearful that the giant Middle Earth trash compactor will not arise on cue, or the dry-ice machine will fail to blow smoke up Voldemort’s skirt, or one of the massed ranks of top-hatted mutton-whiskered extras recreating the Industrial Revolution in hip-hop will miss a stomp.

Also, again: I can’t stand you. Why? Mark won’t say. He’s shy. Hell, Mark, piss in your own mouth and get it over with. Think of the primo bits and bytes we’ll save.

Maybe this piece that Mark Steyn wrote for National Review got away from him. But maybe not. Maybe Mark feels the President is ‘The Other.’ You know: The N*gger President.

It starts off snotty and contemptuous (even for Steyn). Taking for granted the President is a dog-eater, it goes:

Cuisines from My Stepfather
By Mark Steyn

A couple of days ago, Obama-campaign top dog David Axelrod threw in the towel on the dog war. “I thought it was a little absurd to talk about what the president had done as a ten-year-old boy,” he sniffed to MSNBC’s Andrea Mitchell . .

Employing the lighthearted elan of asshole, Steyn plays coy with his Obama disgust. He lightens his piece with dog breeds and canine metaphors. It’s all so cute, all for larrffs, woof. But it’s obnoxious for getting wound up in spite of the truth: Barack was a boy. Good lord, Mark. But Steyn’s getting paid, so:

Confronted by the revelation that his preferred candidate only swings by the Humane Society for the all-you-can-eat buffet, [Jeremy Funk] huffs that this is “false equivalence.” “A six-year-old with no choice in the matter” is not the same as a grown man choosing to place his dog on the roof of his vehicle. My Canadian compatriot Kate McMillan, a dog breeder, advised Mr. Funk to “try this experiment–sit a normal, American 6 year old down at a plate and tell him it’s dog meat. Watch what happens.”

See? The guy’s not normal. There’s something . . wrong.

Meanwhile, back in the female-friendly party, Obama’s father was a polygamist; his grandfather was a polygamist; and his great-grandfather was a polygamist who had one more wife (five in total) than Romney’s great-grandfather. It seems President Obama is the first male in his line not to be a polygamist. So, given the “gender gap,” maybe those 86 percent of American women are way cooler with polygamy than Governor Schweitzer thinks. Maybe these liberal chicks really dig it.

This Barack is the first non-polygamist in his family for maybe thousands of years. And if you think that rehabilitates him, watch him eat your pets. See?

But comedy aside, let’s get to the matter, friends. This is where Mark really begins:

This is nothing to do with young Barack being six or ten years old and meekly eating whatever was put in front of him. He was 34 years old when he wrote the passage quoted above and ten years older when he recorded the audio edition. And, as both versions make plain, he thinks it’s kinda cool, and he knows that to the average upscale white liberal it has the electric frisson of the exotic other.

This is where differences matter. He’s used otherness to thrill the white liberal voter. And that’s how America ended up with a n*gger president. Good golly. Look at what it’s done to the country:

Obama is correct that certain cultures believe a man takes on the powers of whatever he eats. In Liberia, where presidential contests are somewhat more primal than in this effete republic, Samuel Doe was captured by some of his eventual successor’s, ah, campaign staff, who cut off President Doe’s ears and then fed them to him. They then removed His Excellency’s genitals and wound up in a fight over who should get them, believing that the still not quite yet late president’s powers would be transferred to whoever got to chow down on the crown jewels. I’m not suggesting that President Obama has eaten a human penis, because, if he had, he’d almost certainly have boasted about it to the impressionable NPR ninnies who gobbled up his memoirs. But I am suggesting that Mitt Romney might like to consider it for next year’s Inauguration Day.

Cannibalism, etc. Africa as well. Liberals have opened wide the barn doors of America. We might vote for a shit-eating pig, or a crow with a gizzard full of road kill. When candidate Obama mentioned his fierce tribalism, we swooned over what good white Southern gentility and grace fought for years. We’ve forgotten there are uncivilized forces that intrude upon politics. Cock sushi, for one.

. . any revulsion to dog-eating is trumped by revulsion to criticizing any of the rich, vibrant cultural diversity out there in Indonesia or anywhere else. Most polygamy in the developed world is nothing to do with Mormons: It’s widely practiced by Western Muslims, whose plural marriages . .

You get the drift.

. . 57 percent of Pakistani Britons are married to their first cousins, with attendant increases in their children’s congenital birth defects. Bur the comics save their inbreeding jokes for stump-toothed West Virginians enjoying a jigger of moonshine and a bunk-up with their sisters . .

And you get the drift.

. . Ayatollah Khomeini produced a hierarchy of “the uncleans”: Dogs are at Number Six, Infidels are at Number Eight, and Number Eleven is “the sweat of an unlawful ejaculation.” In the liberal hierarchy, conservative infidels are at Number One, dogs are somewhere between Eight and Eleven, and the sweat of an unlawful ejaculation isn’t on the list . .

It all goes back to Obama. See what dog-eating has done?

Tragedy. Blood, everywhere. Horror. Howls of pain. It’s too much to bear.

Dear World: STOP SHOOTING DEFENSELESS RIGHT-WING BLOGGERS.

Media Assassins
Pamela Geller | July 25, 2011

. . Instead of mourning the 91 victims of this horrible tragedy, the media is wielding it like a club to bludgeon the voices of freedom.

. . sharia-compliant media is naked in their blood libel to tie this murderer to everyone of us who fight for human rights, the rule of law, the dignity of the human person, free speech, the free conscience, and equality of rights for all.

That’s Pam Geller, for sure. She rescues baby fur seals or reads to the blind when she’s not calling the president an illegitimate bastard.

Here’s the defense of the Islamophobes: crazy people read stuff. They even quote it. So?

Are celebrities responsible for their stalkers? Were the Beatles responsible for Charles Manson? Or Jodie Foster responsible for the shooting of Ronald Reagan?

That’s Pam’s ‘celebrity’ narcissism at work. She thinks she’s John Lennon. She’s a freedom-loving saint, courageous blog-patriot and songwriting sensation.

Earth to Pam: you are a hate monger. And when people take vicious rhetoric like yours seriously, innocent people get hurt. This has been true for centuries. The Beatles or Jodie Foster don’t vomit hate upon the world the way you do.

The Character Assassination of Robert Spencer
David Horowitz | Jul 25th, 2011

The New York Times today has a wretched editorial masquerading as a news story on Robert Spencer and his alleged complicity in the Oslo massacres because his ideas are cited by the lunatic responsible. Joseph McCarthy could not have done it better. The Times next will blame Noam Chomsky for the crimes of Osama bin Laden and Al Gore for the crimes of the Unabomber since the ideas of both were cited by the lunatics.

Chomsky doesn’t hate Americans. Gore doesn’t hate technology. But Spencer hates Muslims. Period. Nice try, David. Incidentally, who said this?

“There is a movement for a second Holocaust of the Jews that is being supported on this campus by the Muslim Student Association!”

Oh yeah, you did. Surprise.

Anyway, what’s all this talk of Islamophobia? Mark Steyn just doesn’t understand.

The mass murderer Breivik published a 1,500-page “manifesto.” It quotes me, as well as several friends of [the National Review] . .

So, if a blonde blue-eyed Aryan Scandinavian kills dozens of other blonde blue-eyed Aryan Scandinavians, that’s now an “Islamophobic” mass murder?

And this will be your defense, Mark? If Breivik didn’t kill Muslims, we’re all idiots? The guy was so wound up that he put together a massive hate manifesto, but why would we think it has anything to do with the planning and bomb-planting and traveling and shooting?

Islamophobia seems an eccentric perspective to apply to this atrocity, and comes close to making the actual dead mere bit players in their own murder.

The tragedy’s actually in our hands, Mark’s saying. We should be careful how we play it out. Don’t reduce the dead to “mere bit players” when they’re really the stars. A National Review post makes me want to puke, again.

Quote the manifesto’s introduction:

More than 90% of the EU and national parliamentarians and more than 95% of journalists are supporters of European multiculturalism and therefore supporters of the ongoing Islamic colonisation of Europe; yet, they DO NOT have the permission of the European peoples to implement these doctrines.

So Breivik was most angry with the left-wing, multi-cultural champions of “Islamic colonisation.” That’s why he armed himself and went to an event hosting the future liberals of Norway, killing scores of them. Steyn’s argument that the shooting was random is disgusting. Even he isn’t that stupid.

*Ring* “Hello. This is ‘National Review Calls Home.’ Now, here’s Jonah Goldberg…”