Saturday, April 25, 2015

See Simpson Dance. Dance, Simpson, Dance!


Watch him dance around the question, but never deny doing it....
 (Click image to see full-size):

Note that "your" was correct as I was using it.  I wasn't saying "You are" playing dumb. I was identifying the playing dumb as his.


Cluck, cluck....

He's Gone Off the Deep End

Simpson showcases his lust to denigrate ... again. And his joy in entrapment, a desire shared by his eager his sycophants, evidently.  Although when the entrapment is acomplished by fraud, the joy is vain and empty, too, which is both revealing and instructive about those wallowing in it.

In his post, "The Compleat Idiot: Connie Chastain," he mentions my "obsessive stalking of people she doesn't like." Which is, of course, a colossal Simpson lie. I regularly monitor the websites or blogs of a mere handful of people who hate Confederate heritage and those who honor it.

From Simpson's truly breathtaking attack on me: Double dose of buffoonery.  Lack of sensahuma. Lack of intelligence.  Not very bright. Duped. What a fool. Bitterness, ugliness, stupidity, vengefulness, and foolishness.

These aren't the words of a man presenting facts and evidence. These are the instruments of lashing out. The verbal cat-o-nine-tails in the hands of a mindlessly infuriated man.

And if I'm duped, not very bright, and a fool, why then, so are several of his regular commenters who explained the same things to him that my quickie explained.  Did he attack them? Did he mention their buffoonery, their bitterness, ugliness, stupidity, vengefulness, and foolishness? Of course not. They agree with him about the civil war, and likely share his destructive ideology. Principle means nothing in that case.

Yes, I knew about Albrecht's books and his drumming, but when you stack that up against his attack on the VaFlaggers (clearly who he meant in his description) all that doesn't carry much weight with me. I don't know his motivation for writing those books, but his motivation for attacking the VaFlaggers is clear. He exhibited hatred for the VaFlaggers and their heritage in his comment at Levin's blog, because it was not only an attack, but a lie (and aimed at people who happen to be Christians). And he's hanging around on Levin's blog, and Levin is a VaFlagger-hater from way back -- since their beginning, actually, just like Simpson.

Clearly, Simpson is furious all out of proportion to the two little paragraphs in my Quickies sidebar. Yes, his fury has little to do with my criticism of his Onion post or even my view of Albrecht,

Simpson is furious because I keep showcasing his extreme lack of integrity in posting fraudulent reviews of my novels on Amazon.com. He has attempted to distance himself from them, and remove proof that he posted them. But I have the screenshots. And he has no access to my hard drive, or the other places where this proof is stored. 

Thus, his only recourse is to attack and malign my intelligence (an activity he has shown over and over again that he loves to engage in). Well, my intelligence is just fine -- I mean, he has to lie about it in order to attack it, so that should tell you something -- but my posts showing his lack of integrity are right on the money.  Every time.

There is no getting around the fact that posting on Amazon.com negative reviews of books you have not read is fraud, and an attempt to hurt the books and the author. A university professor who holds a highly responsible position did that, according to the evidence. And Simpson has not denied doing it. He has been pointedly asked several times -- and given the opportunity to deny he did it ... an opportunity he refused to take advantage of.

So he can keep foaming at the mouth and posting mendacious attacks on my intelligence and I will keep posting truthful observations about his questionable integrity, epitomized by the fraudulent Amazon reviews. (More on this in a subsequent post.)

Friday, April 24, 2015

Talk About Losers....

Kevin Levin has a post up at Civil War Manipulated Memory about "The Winners and Losers of the Sesquicentennial."

Somebody named Michael Aubrecht* sez that among the losers were:
"The heritage groups that insisted on spending their time and money on erecting inflammatory facsimiles of flags instead of preserving the actual flags of their ancestors."**
What the heck is an inflammatory facsimile of a flag?  That sounds highly subjective -- even made up -- to me....

So, is every flag flying (not just Confederate ones) that is not an authentic, historical flag a ... facsimile?  Is a flag that isn't a historic flag not a flag but a facsimile?

I mean is "...a piece of cloth, varying in size, shape, color, and design, usually attached at one edge to a staff or cord, and used as the symbol of a nation, state, or organization, as a means of signaling, etc."** not a flag just because it isn't HISTORIC?

Also, does anyone know of any historic flags of our ancestors that are not being preserved in some manner?

I deem Michael Aubrecht to be a heritage hater, pure and simple.

*His blawg: http://www.pinstripepress.net/PPBlog/index.blog
**He doesn't know, I guess, that contributions to the VaFlaggers are coming in at an increasing pace and the VaFlaggers are serving as examples (and helpers/advisors) for heritage flag-raisers in other states....
***Dictionary.com

Thursday, April 23, 2015

Bears Repeating

Simpson knows this -- has known it a long time, but he prefers to spread disinformation and/or misconceptions (kinda the way he likes writing fraudulent book reviews and posting them on Amazon.com).

1. I am not the webmaster for the Virginia Flaggers.

I routinely upload content they email me to their blog host (Blogger) but all content is provided by them

A couple of years or so ago, Susan Hathaway contacted me to ask for information about setting up a blog on Blogger (which hosts all my blogs). I advised her of some things I had learned working with Blogger, and offered my help to set up a blog for the Virginia Flaggers.  Knowing how busy she is, I also offered to upload blog posts. I also offered to monitor comments once the blog went live, but someone else does that.

I have uploaded quite a number of blog entries since then, but others have also added content. All the posts I have added are identified with my name.

None of the content originates with me and never has, with the exception of the first post (the Welcome post) and the composition of post titles when posts come to me (via email) without one. Since post titles comprise the blog index, I compose the title based on the content.

2. I am not a spokesperson for the Virginia Flaggers.

Susan Hathaway's statement that she leaves the "heavy hitting" to me was simply a jocular Facebook acknowledgement that (a) she doesn't read blog entries, Facebook posts, Tweets, etc., from critics and attackers and (b) she knows that I not only read them, but defend or counter-attack.

Why Brooks Simpson, presumably an intelligent, educated adult, would attempt to give this frivolity serious significance is mystifying. In fact, why he, Andy Hall, Kevin Levin and their followers would pay any attention at all to Southern heritage groups on Facebook and heritage activists like the Virginia Flaggers is itself a mystery.

My posts at Backsass, all my other blogs and websites, and on Facebook, Twitter and anywhere else, are my own. Unless otherwise noted, I am always speaking for myself only. Nobody else.

3. I am not a part of the Virginia Flaggers organization.

I enthusiastically support their mission, and I've offered to assist them in whatever ways I can, but I am not a Virginia Flagger.  I live in Florida, about 900 miles from Richmond, and I have limited contact with them. If memory serves, I have had about three short telephone conversations with Susan; other than that, my contact with the group has been via text messages delivered by email and messaging.

Friday, April 17, 2015

Rising Again and Realistic Stuff -- Updated

Somebody named Rosemary at XRoads asks, "What exactly does Connie C want? Someone to say she’s right or the South to rise again? Doesn’t she have realistic stuff to be attending to? Well, arguement (sic) is a form of sport, I guess."

Yes, I inherited a certain amount of cussedness from my Blue Ridge Mountain ancestors, so I can be contrary, and, under certain circumstances, I do like to argue.

Someone to say I'm right? I don't particularly want that and certainly don't need it. And while I'd love for the South to rise again, it doesn't really have to; all it has to do is remain standing while the rest of America falls

Don't I have realistic stuff to attend to? Not sure how Rosemary conceptualizes "realistic stuff," but if she means work (a job or career), family, etc.,  I am retired, but I do have my writing.  I also provide services to other writers (typesetting, e-book formatting, cover creation, video trailer editing, etc.). I learned how to do these things with my first book, because I couldn't afford what others were charging for them. Now I do them at very reasonable rates for others who can't afford the average charges and who don't have the time or inclination to learn how to do it themselves.

One of my favorite jobs is typesetting for print books; I use an older version of QuarkXpress, and it is so satisfying to see a double-spaced conventional manuscript become a lovely print page with headers, page numbers, etc.  Formatting for e-books isn't nearly as satisfying.

Among other realistic stuff I'm doing is fixing up my house. It has been humdrum for a long time, and there are some repairs and renovations needed. I have to purchase the items needed as the money comes in, and I won't start a project until I have everything I need to finish it. First on the agenda, the main bathroom. Following that, some kitchen fix up, and on from there to the rest of the house and yard... I'm blogging about it at Old Florida Meets Mid-Century Modern.

I'm also fixing up my 17 year old SUV because it will be a long time before I can afford to buy another vehicle and, besides, this one still runs great and I like it (it's small; it fits me). It just has some cosmetic flaws that I'm addressing...  I've touched on my vehicle repairs on my house blog.

I support literacy promotion efforts and certain local animal rescue efforts, though this has amounted mostly to making donations. I hope get more active in both areas as royalties and author services payments come in.

I have other "realistic stuff" but, frankly, they're none of Rosemary's business... I wonder if she has any realistic stuff herself  -- or whether it's enough for her to get fake warm fuzzies of fake moral superiority commenting on genuinely crappy blogs like XRoads.

        UPDATE    UPDATE   UPDATE        

 Over on XRoads, Rosemary sez:

"I read up on Ms. Connie and I found out what she wants…. not only that, I learned she and I actually have stuff in common except for several many things including her wanting the South to stand 'while the rest of America falls.' By South I’m thinking she means confederacy, not those USA states south of certain former boundaries. I favor all of ‘em standing, heck with boundaries."

America is going to fall, Rosemary. It is already falling. It is amazing to people of my generation to see how far it has already fallen. I don't want the South to fall with it.

Having said that, I add that it would be fine with me if all the regions of the USA were to survive and come through the collapse of the USA as individual nations. Various folks have predicted the USA fracturing into several nations for years, decades. I think that would be a good thing.

Even without (or before) the collapse, I don't mind, say, New England being there. My primary objection is to New Englanders coming down here and trying to make Dixie into "South New England."

As for my South, here are these states I consider to be The South: 

*Alabama,
Arkansas,
*Florida,
*Georgia
Kentucky,
*Louisiana,
Mississippi,
North Carolina,
South Carolina,
Tennessee,
Texas,
Virginia,
West Virginia,
with honorary Southern status going to Oklahoma and Missouri.
* -- States where I have resided.

Just so you'll know, Backsass concentrates mostly on Confederate heritage issues, but my writing encompasses The South -- my South. The hero of my flagship novel, Southern Man, is Troy Stevenson, whose ancestors for several generations resided in West Virginia.

Rosemary continues:

"Ms. Connie, USA citizen, actually is lucky. Maybe her confederacy would be operating today if France helped. And maybe said confederacy, seeking a tight rein on the rabble, would like and take for its own French laws including the one whereby Ms. Connie’d be arrested and do time for stating her stuff about America falling."

If. If, if, if....  What a load of phantasmic bovine excrement.  As Montgomery Scott once said, "If my grandmother had wheels, she'd be a wagon." And if I won the lottery, I could live at the beach. And if I lived in the midwest, I'd be miserable .... Oh, wait. I did live in the midwest for five years, and I was miserable....  Is this, um, iffing supposed to make me grateful to the USA, or ashamed of my desire for my region's political independence? Sorry, Rosemary. I am grateful for the freedoms we have left, and I am in no way ashamed of wishing my region was its own nation.

"Before I found out Ms. Connie wrote about me, a mere former freshman, I was thinking about coming back and adding a post to this thread. I still want to mention my feeling that I don’t think the confederacy deserves to be commemorated."

You're allowed to think and don't think whatever  you wish, Rosemary.

As am I.

As cute as Rosemary's posts are, you have to cover your mouth to keep from guffawing at Simpson. When Rosemary asks if he's going to ignore the VaFlaggers, he sez:

"Not at all. They are too funny to ignore (although recently they’ve become boring again, so mention of them has fallen off significantly)."

What this means is:

"I'm obsessed with them, but I don't like to admit it, so I deny it. But my obsession is hard to ignore when you realize just how much I blog about them (and that doesn't even take into account what I say about them). I've had to back off recently, so I'm now saying they're boring, and that's why 'mention of them has fallen off significantly.' In truth, I was caught in a lie -- saying I was only going to post about Confederate heritage once a week, and I actually uploaded a flurry of blog posts about it, sometimes every day for days in a row -- and once two posts in one day! -- most of them focusing on the VaFlaggers. So I have to claim that they are funny and I blog about them until they get boring, in order to save face. And people like you, and all my sycophants, either don't realize I'm lying, or do realize but don't care that I'm lying. So it's all good."

Thursday, April 16, 2015

It's Hard to Make Predictions...

...Especially About the Future" ~Yogi Berra

So Kevin Levin is predicting (again, he does that a lot, and gets it wrong a lot) that Confederate heritage is dying. Because some kid in Texas has been duped into generating publicity by attacking Confederate heritage.

Remember this?

 "Prediction: There will be no Confederate flag on I-95 near Richmond."
~Kevin Levin, August 2013                       

So now some kid in Texas gets his name in the paper for attacking remembrance of Confederate soldiers, and Kevin can't help himself. He just has to predict. (You'd think he'd learn, wouldn't you?)

Meanwhile, Susan Hathaway has so many invitations for speaking engage- ments, she can't keep up. The VaFlaggers have so many offers of land for memorial flags, they can't keep up. And so many requests for help putting up flags from folks in other states, they can't keep up.

Continuing media coverage -- and new coverage -- renews pressure on the VMFA. Every time a flag goes up, the spotlight hits them again -- and gifts roll in to the VaFlaggers. Same thing happens every time the haters publicly attack the VaFlaggers -- clear uptick in contributions.

As a Confederate heritage advocate ... and to paraphrase Sam Clemens ... I say that reports of our impending demise are not only greatly exaggerated -- they are wishful thinking on the part of floggers generally and Kevin Levin in particular -- and completely out of touch with reality.

No wonder the Kevin and the Floggers hate Susan and the Flaggers so much.... 

Monday, April 6, 2015

The Face of Feminism in the UK

"Kill all men" ... "Men are such entitled pigs..."  From tweets by UK feminist leader Sarah Noble, who says there is a  “need to remove men from society.”  https://hequal.wordpress.com/2015/04/01/kill-all-men-fk-men-die-cis-scum-says-lib-dem-executive-committe-member/

A nobody with no influence? Not hardly. Noble is on three Liberal Democrat executive committees and on the policy committee for Liberal Youth.

How long before this dangerous point of view moves across the pond to the USA? Feminist leaders in the US have been moving in this direction for a while, so feminism's true nature -- hatred of men -- will be increasingly revealed here.

Women who love their fathers, brothers, husbands, and sons need to push back, hard and strong, against this hatred.

In related news, female floggerettes at XRoads and elsewhere, who believe no accusations of rape are false, here's a current story for ya: Disgraced Rolling Stone Reporter Will Finally Apologize For UVA Rape Story.

Thursday, April 2, 2015

Kincaid Honor....

For Mousy...

____________________________

Sweet Southern Boys 

by

Connie Chastain

Excerpt



When Shelby turned sixteen in early August, his parents bought him a truck, a five year old Chevy S-10 pickup of metalflake blue. Rather, they financed it. Paying for it was to be a joint effort between themselves and their son. Shelby had worked hard and saved his money all summer to meet his part of the payments during fall, when he would be playing football and could not work after school.

The State of Georgia had licensed him to drive and he was a legal part-owner of a neat little truck. So it was a bit embarrassing that on Friday before the Labor Day holiday weekend, he was stuck on campus after school without wheels. Kurt had borrowed the truck to do some work at the church, and had told Shelby to watch Ainsley after school, and to not expect him until nearly four.

Ainsley walked the five blocks to Verona High School from Cloverdale Elementary to wait with Shelby. A small black backpack for books and lunch was strapped to her shoulders. Her hair was in pigtails, and she had a pair of headphones across her head connected to a small radio and cassette tape player clipped to the waistband of her plaid capri pants. Shelby had compiled a tape of her favorite songs on his fancy component stereo outfit, and she listened to it every free moment.

Arriving at the high school campus, she went to her habitual meeting place with Shelby for circumstances such as this -- the school's outdoor dining area, a concrete slab about half the size of a basketball court, just off the cafeteria. It was covered by a fiberglass canopy against rain and noon-day sun and filled with rows of green plastic picnic tables.

She found Shelby with John Mark and Randy and a few of their friends in the shade of the canopy. A  little farther away, there was another clump of boys she paid no attention to, except to surmise that they were also without wheels and waiting for rides.

Shelby and his friends were sitting or leaning on the tables speaking in the laconic, abbreviated language of teenage boys. At the moment, the subject happened to be football, and whether the Verona Patriots would be state champions again this year, and they all agreed that not practicing on holiday weekends wasn't a good idea, since the team needed all the practice it could get.

Ainsley stopped near Shelby and shrugged off her book satchel, letting it drop to the floor, and said, "Hey, Bubba."

Shelby pulled the headphones away from one ear, said, "Hey, brat," and let it snap back.

"You're so bogus," she said, rolling her eyes. She sat down crosslegged on the concrete floor, pulled a small, flat plastic box from her satchel and laid it on the concrete in front of her. It was her favorite obsession at the moment -- a paperclip jewelry kit. At least she wouldn't get bored waiting for four p.m.

Shelby's truck
Someone in the other group of boys called out, "Hey, Stevenson, what's the scoop on Dixon Halston?"  The questioner was Wesley Bratcher, who was no longer on the football team and not informed about changes in the roster.

"I thought everybody knew," Randy shot back. "He's off the team, in rehab."

"That is so lame," Wesley said. "Everybody knows athletics and dope just go together. NFL's full of drugs 'cause they work. Even the Deacon there," he nodded toward Shelby, "would find his game improving if he wasn't so straightlaced and, ah, anti-substance."

"I see what you mean," Shelby said with mock thoughtfulness. "Kinda the way you drinkin' strychnine would improve your personality."

Wesley snorted. "Strychnine is poison, bonehead. I'm talking about substances that enhance athletic ability." 

"And rot your liver," Randy said.

"And cause dain bramage," Shelby added

"And play havoc with your cardiovascular, reproductive and central nervous systems," John Mark finished.

"Havoc with your reproductive system?" Wesley echoed. "You mean like having two-headed babies? Now, that's a Southern thang, iddinit?"

"Why don't you shut up, Bratcher," Shelby said testily. "You've been a pain in the butt ever since you got down here. What's is it with you yankees, anyway? Nobody invited you, but you come down here and slam us and spit on our hospitality--"

"Hey, Kincaid, my family's invitation came from Uncle Sam and the United States Air Force."

"Like I said," Shelby continued, "Nobody invited you here."

At this point, enough of the tone and conversation had penetrated past Ainsley's music to get her attention, and it sounded interesting, so she pulled the headphones from her ears and paused in her jewelry making to listen to the boy talk.

Wesley was staring at her brother, incredulous. "Nobody...? Nobody but America! But that's about what I'd expect from a bunch of racist hicks who already tried once to tear apart the greatest nation on earth."

"Yeah, yeah," Shelby said, "blah, blah, blah."

"Besides," Wesley said, bringing the conversation back on track, "One thing you rubes and rednecks ought to know by now is what causes two-headed babies. And it ain't dope."  He glanced down at Ainsley who was gazing at him, wide-eyed, and brought his stare pointedly back to Shelby. "It's screwing your sister." 

Wesley cackled, but if he expected everybody to erupt into laughter and derision with him, he was disappointed. When his own laughter died down, it was still and quiet under the canopy. The hot, lazy afternoon that had been laced with the barest undercurrent of excitement that often accompanies the beginning of a holiday weekend now hummed silently with a much stronger current of tension.

Randy closed his eyes and shook his head while John Mark looked at Wesley with an incredulous smile. "You just don't learn, do you, Bratch?"

They looked at Shelby and saw that his only overt reaction was to raise his chin slightly and blink a couple of times. They also recognized the expression on his face. They couldn't tell yet whether the situation would set him off, but this sort of comment, coming from Bratcher, certainly had the potential for it. They looked at each other, groaning inwardly.

If there was one thing they did not need right now, it was one of Shelby's Billy Jack moments. The Verona Patriots were going to need "The Cobra," their best wide receiver, the whole season. If he got suspended or kicked off the team for fighting before the first game, it didn't portend well for the season.

Shelby's losing his temper was not a pretty or admirable sight, nor was his  agonizing Baptist remorse afterward, and it would just be better all around if they could deter him from doing something regrettable, like beating this arrogant yankee to a bloody pulp, no matter how deserved it would be. So, his friends monitored the situation closely and were prepared to jump on Shelby, pin his arms behind him, wrestle him to the ground, whatever it took, to keep him under control until his rage calmed.

They went on high alert when Shelby stood up and said, "Ainsley, stay put," and started walking toward Bratcher with exaggerated leisure. His eyes were glittering. John Mark and Randy stepped to each side of him, ready to jump him at any second. They were aware of how intimidating they looked to this pathetic yankee, the three of them advancing shoulder to shoulder, but there was no help for it, and besides, after all his years in Verona, it was time he learned to show some respect.

About half the distance there, Shelby glanced first at John Mark, then Randy, and they realized he was having a hard time keeping a straight face. He was not anywhere close to rage. It was questionable whether he was even angry.

Not one of his Billy Jack moments, then, but one of his Looney Tunes moments. Although he couldn't say it out loud in this situation, they'd heard it enough in the past, and knew exactly what he was thinking, in his best Bugs Bunny dialect...Dis could pwove to be fun!

So they fell back a step or two. Shelby kept up his saunter and didn't stop until he reached Bratcher and slightly invaded his space. In very hushed tones, he said, "Then if there is one thing my sister never has to worry about, it's having a two-headed baby."

The Kincaid Siblings, Ainsley & Shelby, c. 1993
"Well, that's good, Kincaid, that's real good," Bratcher said with obviously fake bravado. "Really nice touch of 'suth'n chivalry' there, standing up for your sister's honor."

"It was my honor you trashed, not hers. If you had trashed hers, you wouldn't be standing here now."

Bratcher recognized the past-tense threat in that statement, but couldn't decide whether it had expired or not, so he said nothing.

"Or maybe you would be standing, if my friends here helped me keep my temper long enough to remember something about you." Without taking his eyes off his quarry, he said, "Ainsley, c'mere a minute."

That was when Randy and John Mark knew sure and certain there was no possibility of a physical confrontation. Shelby would never have called her into the scene if physical violence was even remotely possible.

Ainsley didn't understand everything that was happening -- it was a boy thing -- but she knew full well some sort of contest was going on, and she knew without even thinking hard that Shelby was winning. Sandals slapping on concrete, she walked to him and said, "What?"

"Hold up your hand so Bratcher here can see it. Show him your fingers."

Uncomprehending but willing to help in whatever game her brother was playing, Ainsley went along, holding up her hand and slightly wiggling her fingers.

Shelby said to Bratcher with the exaggerated tone of explaining something to a small child or simpleton, "See, if you want to smear somebody's honor, you have to have a thing called moral authority. And my sister has more honor in her little finger than you have moral authority in your  whole ...damnyankee ... ancestry."

He heard John Mark snicker softly behind him, and knew it would not set well with Bratcher to be laughed at by a Southern hick. Which made it all the more worthwhile. The indignant look on Bratcher's face was almost caricaturishly comic, and Shelby couldn't hold back his laughter. He took a couple of steps back to stand between his friends, pulling Ainsley back with him.

Then, in his normal voice, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't say things like what you just said anytime my sister's around. Really appreciate it, if you get my drift."

"Sure, Kincaid," Bratcher said. He had begun to sidle to the right, and toward escape, the moment Shelby stepped back. But he just couldn't help himself, couldn't leave well enough alone. His expression changed as contempt muscled out apprehension on his face. "You people are crazy. The inbreeding has made the whole bunch of you just ... crazy."

Copyright © 2013 - 2015 by Connie Chastain

It's Enough to Turn Your Stomach....

It's a great weekend to NOT be in Richmond....

From the Virginia Civil War Sesquicentennial Facebook page:
Partners in Richmond will come together April 1-4 to mark the 150th anniversary of the end of the Civil War and emancipation.
Highlights include Thursday’s illumination and tours of the downtown area that burned in the evacuation fire; Friday’s tours and roving living history programs interpreting the first day of Union occupation; and Friday and Saturday evening memorials at Lumpkin’s Jail and the Slave Burial Ground that include a sacred ground procession to slave-trading sites, original musical tributes and an interactive finale.

On Saturday, the commemoration will take over Capitol Square with a pop-up museum, a family area, a living history area, a community tent collecting oral histories and items for a time capsule, the HistoryMobile, and two hubs for walking tours.

A commemorative parade of Union Army living history interpreters will reach Capitol Square in time for an 11 a.m. ceremony on the Capitol Portico featuring Gov. Terry McAuliffe and the Virginia Union University Choir.

Complete listing of Richmond's Journey events: <snip>
As someone on Facebook noted, "While the 'official' sesquicentennial will be celebrating the burning of Richmond, the Virginia Flaggers may very well be the only people standing for the Confederate soldier over the next few days."

Deep heartfelt thanks to you, Virginia Flaggers, for doing so.  

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

Have the Floggers Gone Psycho?


The bizarro world of the floggosphere has grown even more bizarre than usual of late. Lemme tell ya what I'm talking about.

So Susan Hathaway, Head Flagger in Charge and Expert Roadside Flag Raiser, posts on the VaFlaggers blog about the disappointment of Richmond's underwhelming, slavery-obsessed Sesquicentennial, as opposed to the very successful Civil War Centennial fifty years ago, and what happens?  Kevin Levin gushingly posts about the activities planned for 150th anniversary of the Richmond's fall and liberation (sic). He would love to be there, etc., blah blah blah.

I can't help myself. I post a comment: "The ongoing and accelerating evilization of white Southerners, past and present. No, thanks."

Levin sez, "With all due respect, sometimes you just sound like a bitter old women (sic). There is a link to the schedule of events Perhaps you can share with all of us which events (organized by white and black southerners) ‘evilize’ the white South."

I reply: "A certain amount of bitterness is understandable and justified.         The sesquicentennial of the civil war wasn’t particularly about the war — especially in Richmond, from reports I’ve received. The war was of very secondary importance to the anniversary. The sesquicentennial was about slavery, slavery, slavery. And discussions of slavery that I’m familiar with, by academics and other assorted leftists, are nearly always conducted for the purpose of evilizing Southern white people."

Levin returns: "'A certain amount of bitterness is understandable and justified.' Only if you can provide some evidence, which you have failed to do. Put up or shut up, Ms. Chastain. Don’t bother sending in another comment. It will not be approved."

We see what's wrong with this hysterical piece right away, don't we?  First, how many commenters does Levin demand "evidence" from? Second, do we see the inherent contradiction in "Put up or shut up, Ms. Chastain. Don’t bother sending in another comment."

And then there's the mystery of the disappearing post. Just one day earlier Levin had uploaded a post titled 'Honor Restored' in Lexington, Virginia, ostensibly about the civil war museum loaning a flag for display at the Lee Chapel museum, but the true purpose of the flog was to smear the VaFlaggers. But for some reason, that post disappeared from the blog. It still comes up in a Google search index, and can still be seen in Google's cache here:

http://webcache.googleusercontent.com/search?q=cache%3A-LAlmWpZC9sJ%3Acwmemory.com%2F2015%2F03%2F28%2Fhonor-restored-in-lexington-virginia%2F+&cd=1&hl=en&ct=clnk&gl=us

One can't help but wonder why Levin took it down... (Cue Psycho music.)

I've already covered Simpson's latest temper tantrum, wherein he tries to deflect attention away from his own lapses by focusing on what he says are the lapses of others.... Of course, his lapses are real, ongoing and documented; the lapses of those he attacks are not.

But enough of him. Let's move on to this one by scalawag flogger Andy Hall. Of the Virginia Flaggers and their highway memorial flag project, sez Andy, "The highway flag project is about marking territory. That’s it. Anyone who’s ever owned a tomcat understands what’s going on there."

Well, golly geeper, Andy, that's pretty much the purpose all flags serve, iddinit? And none moreso than this one:

Marked territory

Marked territory

Marked territory



Marked territory

 Really marked territory


Really marked territory



Really, really marked territory.
If this tomcat behavior, can you imagine the stench?!

More marked territory



Grinning tomcat in Confederate gray....



Of course, sometimes it means more than marked territory. It means conquest, as in the conquest and wiping out of the Branch Davidians by the feds... See the ATF flag? The stench is even worse here; the smell of explosives, smoke, tyranny and murder by government....

But of course, in the bizarro world of the floggosphere, there just about ain't nothing worse than Virginia Flaggers raising flags and eating hotdogs.


Images: Andrew Kuznetsov via Creative Commons License; Morguefile; Pixabay.