The new protectionism

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A Doom and Reprisal editorial from Ale 81 Inn field correspondent, Ford Wenty


No, this is not about the revival of tariffs or other forms of economic protectionism. For that matter this is not something new either. It is, in fact, as old as the medieval days of feudal lords collecting their tribute in the form of labor or the fruits thereof for the protections of the castle walls should their little fiefdom come under assault from neighboring lords. This is about a new application of this protectionism.

Our so called leaders are really big on this new protectionism. This protectionism is the underlying premise for every new regulation, every new law, every new decree. All of these acts are performed in the interest of protecting a public, who in their ignorance do not even grasp that they are in need of protection. These guardians of the greater good are ever vigilant to protect us from every possible danger, whether it be saccharine, faulty automotive design or second hand smoke. They have rationalized their actions as being a noble effort to protect us, the slobbering proles, from ourselves. In truth, their only motivation is in protecting themselves from scrutiny with a thin veil of faux benevolence. In so doing they remain smugly confident that we should never question who should protect us from them while they grow fat and lazy upon the mounds of tribute they collect.

Most of the great wisdom of human history is found among the ancients. Of these the words of Seneca should speak to us today and speak loudly: There are more things likely to frighten us than there are to crush us; we suffer more often in imagination than in reality.  The feckless political hacks presiding over the current shit show, though I doubt many of them even know who Seneca was, seem to be fully aware of this truth. Thus do they fervently pump the bellows, fanning the flames of fear and confusion. This fear fuels the imagination to create a false reality, one which they can hide behind. Like a mask.

Authorities, members of both political parties, have long been practitioners of the “it’s for the children” strategy for the justification of their policies. It is their go to mantra for any course which they know will be questioned. It is a wholly transparent political parlor trick designed to cloak themselves in what they believe to be the unassailable position. No matter the topic we are to believe that their motives are pure, that their only interest is to protect us from ourselves. We are the misguided fools and they are the experts. If it’s not for the children then it is to save the planet (again, to save from ourselves). Now it’s to save lives from a virus.  The public health is the new “it’s for the children”. The truth is that a virus is not any more mindful of our futile gestures than the planet is from attempts to change the climate. These people are politicians. The only thing they are expert in is lying and expanding the scope of their authority.

Lori Lightweight, the current Don of the Chicago crime syndicate otherwise known as the mayor’s office, wins the protectionist prize of the week. It is ostensibly her job as the mayor to insure the safety of the city’s residents while they attempt to conduct their business in public space. This is a job which she, as well as a long line of her predecessors, has failed at in epic fashion. She and a host of her colleagues, all members in good standing of the democrat cult, have caved to a degree not seen since the Atlanta Falcon collapse in the second half of Super Bowl LI. There is at least the sole distinction in the case of the Falcons: they actually appeared on the field of contest.

Mayor Lightweight has turned up for only one series of downs in this game, where she was shouted down and hounded by the very cannibals she has enabled. Her only response to this has been, in the tradition of Little Dick Daley, to move in the dead of night to remove Columbus statues. At least the city of Chicago managed to get a halfway decent park area as a result of Daley’s nocturnal malfeasance. And while crews removed this statuary of a man five centuries in his grave, citizens of Chicago continued to drop like flies in a storm of gun violence where there are some of the most restrictive gun control laws in the country. No worries though. We all know that gun control laws are effective, because Lightweight and those of her ilk never cease reminding us. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before they start to actually work. Just like masks and lockdowns are going to save us all from the virus.

Lightweight is but one of many wannabe despots presiding over the patchwork of urban fiefs of wokedom, traced by the dark blue stains upon the national electoral map. They continue to serve their citizens kool aid in paper cups while trying to convince us all that it is Chateau Lafitte in crystal goblets. In Seattle, Portland, Minneapolis, Baltimore…. the story is the same over and over. When real, material help is offered in the form federal resources to aid in restoring some order, not to assume control of the city, the reaction is to throw up every possible barrier.  Even after Lightweight has agreed to accept the deployment of two-hundred federal agents for this purpose, the mayor’s office adds:

“The Mayor has made clear that if there is any deviation from what has been announced, we will pursue all available legal options to protect Chicagoans.”

That is more political doublespeak. Here is the translation:

We are unwilling or unable to protect you from real threats to your security. We have been reluctantly compelled to accept help from outsiders who are, in the opinion of the mayor’s office, the true enemy. The minute any of these outsiders actually start to make any substantive difference in dealing with these problems we will use every measure at our disposal to protect ourselves, er….uh, Chicagoans from them.

In the lexicon of Lightweight’s world protect means something entirely different from what one may find in Webster’s.  I am reminded of another ambiguous application of the word protect from an old BBC series titled The Young Ones. In one episode the four college flatmates are visited by the parents of Neil the Hippie, who is one of their number. In the course of this meeting there is some mildly derogatory reference made to Felicity Kendall, a heartthrob of the time featured on one of BBC’s treacly sitcoms. This elicits a response from Neil’s father, in which he professes his affection for Kendall and states that he is filled with an urge to “protect” her. The house anarchist, Vivian offers his own well timed response to that statement: “Hmm. I’ve never heard it put quite that way!” This is the implication of Lightweight’s “protection”. She says protect. She means violate.

The exodus from Chicago, and the rest of Illinois, will continue. It will likely be accelerated now. The citizens will bail until none are left to fill the coffers of these corrupted administrations. There will be no productive citizens left to tax, only a dependent class. There will be no wealth or assets left to seize, only crushing debt. They are already well on their way to this end and when it comes, whether it is Lightweight or some other incompetent, they’ll be eager for federal help then. That is, provided that the help comes in the form of tax dollars from their fellow Americans. The only thing these fools mean to truly protect is their own sorry asses.


Ford Wenty report end, 27 July 2020


Does anyone else wonder whatever became of “my body, my choice”?

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Another Doom and Reprisal editorial from Ale 81 Inn field correspondent, Ford Wenty


Welcome to the ascendency of the Karen Kommandos.  Karens, like other brands of assholes, come in various stripes. They don’t ALL look like anime wannabes, just a large number of them.  I happened to run into one the other day who was of a sufficiently ambiguous identity that I could conclude that “it” was a male at birth (the Adam’s apple the dead giveaway), somewhere in the transition to female and still trying to decide if “it” wanted to identify as an anime character.  Speaking for myself these are not encounters that occur frequently; thus, they are approached with great caution.

This was not in any circumstance where any of these matters should have made any difference, but I nonetheless readied myself for the obligatory pronoun lecture. Thankfully this did not come, yet I was prepared with my standard response: Hi, I’m Ford, I am a man and my pronouns are I don’t give a shit and go fuck yourself.  One might well imagine that this response does nothing to endear me to those professing their gender fluidity. And that is just fine with me. I’m not looking to make friends and am perfectly content with my own company. This particular encounter, however, was not without some measure of controversy.

The venue of this event was at a merchant who shall remain nameless. It is an establishment, like many, who have posted the obligatory signs on the door indicating the governor’s mask order, but one that does not go to great pains to enforce the mandate. Apparently the management of this store have rightly concluded that it is not their job to act as the impotent executive’s hatchet man. Apparently this clerk did not get the memo.

I entered the store without a mask, got my coffee and a couple of biscuits. Up to that point this visit was without incident. Arriving at the counter to pay I was greeted with a heavy sigh and a quite pronounced rolling of the eyes from our clerk. I’ll call it Pikachu.

“Is there a problem?”

“No…will there be anything else for you today?” The tone was snarky.

“Hey, I’m a big boy. You got something to say? Well spit it out.”

Again the eye roll. “You’re supposed to wear a mask.”

“Why? I’m not robbing you.”

“Well the governor….”

“Lemme tell ya something. I don’t give one fiddler’s fuck what that piece of shit says. You either sell me this shit or I can go and get the same damned thing at a drive thru.”

I had exact change. It took the money and I collected my merchandise. As far as I was concerned this transaction was concluded. Then, as I was walking away I heard Pikachu mutter under it’s breath “Why didn’t you just go to the damned drive thru then”.

I wasn’t in any particular hurry. The store really wasn’t busy at the time. So I turned….

“Well because if I had gone to the drive thru I would have missed this enchanting encounter.”

It blushed. Apparently Pikachu thought I wouldn’t hear.

“I don’t have any quarrel with you, friend. I understand what you’re being told. How many people come in here without a mask ? Half? Do you do this to all of them?”

I didn’t expect an answer and I didn’t get one. It was at that moment that I realized that I was looking at a Karen. Maybe not full grown yet, more of a proto-Karen. There have been some fine women with the name Karen. It is a shame that the name has become synonymous with the busybody, the whiner, the fink. Unfortunately it is not only names that have been co-opted to other purposes, all in the headlong march to a shameless society. A culture of shame conducted by those without any of their own.

I don’t know if I’ll see Pikachu again, at least not in the same place. Pikachu will probably end up at Chipotle, serving bowls of diarrhea to other cartoon characters. Or Starbucks, serving frappes with the same eye rolling snark. And that’s just fine by me. They deserve each other. Pikachu is a player in this tale, but it’s not about him/her/it.

I hearken back to a simpler time, just a year ago, when Karen Kommandos were up in arms over Ohio’s “heartbeat bill”; another in a long succession of poorly crafted legislation. It was then that I had witnessed another herd of these blue and purple haired crusaders picketing with signs, “My body, my choice”, and decrying Mike Dewine as the devil incarnate. The bill did not ban abortion, but did place some serious restrictions upon the practice. I concede that it is faulty (again, as is nearly all legislation), but I take issue with that being conflated into a full blown assault upon “women’s reproductive rights”. This is quite typical of leftist ideology. It is not enough to accept, to co-exist, to reach a compromise. No, their ideology must be wholeheartedly embraced. Anything less than that and you’re Hitler.

That protest was no more about women’s health issues than the current crop of mask scolders are about public health issues. It’s about politics. Theirs. They have injected politics into every aspect of society. The proof is in the fact that the very same mob who marched beneath a banner of “My body, my choice”; the same brand of strident, screeching harridans who had placed a bounty upon the miserably misshapen head of the governor, now embrace the notion that the very same man possesses the godlike authority to rule the very air we breath. And you had all better comply. Or else.

Irony is alive and well in 2020. It parades about the streets like some hyper-defined bodybuilder, wearing a speedo, all oiled and jacked up on steroids. It strolls without shame, ready to turn it’s roid rage upon any heretic who should dare to call it out. It suggests that we should accept and embrace a script wherein if one should disobey the governor’s orders and not wear a mask, then you are killing grandma and grandpa. Yet when the same governor signs a bill that prevents snuffing out the life of a child after a certain number of weeks into a pregnancy, then it is time to launch the revolution?

When opinions are formed from a lack of information this is ignorance, an ignorance born in innocence rather than malice. Opinions formed from misinformation are a cancer and our current body politic is fast approaching stage four. Perhaps we should be striving to find a cure for this too, because if not this will kill far more than this virus could ever hope to.


Ford Wenty report end, 23 July 2020



The Bugeye State

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A Doom and Reprisal editorial from Ale 81 Inn field correspondent, Ford Wenty


The masks do not protect me. They do not protect you. It is sound science that the degree of protection afforded from a universal mask mandate is negligible, if any at all. The masks are a cover and only a cover. Not for health reasons. Every mask is a piece of a grand tapestry of political cover for a chicken shit excuse of a governor.  People in positions of authority at this level, regardless of political affiliation, have three simple maxims to guide their enlightened policies:  1) always find someone/something else to blame; 2) whenever possible kick the can down the road; and 3) never let a good crisis go to waste.

This is not leadership; it is cowardice. Mike Dewine is nothing more than a kinder, gentler version of Gretchen Whitmer. He may think he is doing the right thing. People who travel within such a limited circle always think they are doing the right thing because of their penchant for surrounding themselves with people who will always tell them what they want to hear. Either that or they are of such weak mind as to be easily manipulated by others. In Dewine’s case I would suggest that it may be equal parts of both.

In 2018 I wrote a piece (Adderall and Starbucks, condemning both candidates for Ohio governor, suggesting that Ohioans were better served to just sit this one out.  To those of you who scoffed I ask: what say you now? Now I can assure you that under a Jim Cordray administration all of this nonsense that we have endured for the past four months would have been FAR worse, but this in no way whatsoever excuses the shit show that Mike Dewine clearly owns. Dewine is spawned from the same primordial goo that has given the state of Ohio such illustrious paragons of conservative principle as Bob Taft, George Voinovich and John Kasich. All of these are former republican governors who have mouthed all of the right platitudes for their traditional constituency, while instead governing as democrat-lite. The political establishment of both major parties in Ohio, just as it is nationwide, has been utterly corrupted by the interests of anyone but the citizens of the state.

Mike Dewine has suckled at the teats of the public trough for his entire career. This is a man who has never seen an expansion of state power that didn’t stir his loins. This is a man who in his career has ever been the vanguard for the expansion of police powers and the militarization of police forces. This is a man, who as governor took an oath to defend the rights and interests of ALL of his state’s citizens, but who is completely out of touch with that constituency. The only touch this man is familiar with is that of the monied interests and donors who have their hands stuffed up his sock puppet ass to animate the mouth that lies to us all in front of television cameras. You can see it in his eyes, if you can decide which eye to focus on. Personally I can’t stand looking at him long enough to decide. The only possible remedy that Mike Dewine may offer to any health matter would be if you have swallowed something from a bottle with a warning label stating “in the event of ingestion induce vomiting and seek a physician”. Dewine’s image is almost certain to induce vomiting.

Let’s circle back and consider the public official’s three step creed in his case.

Mike Dewine has suggested to us that “local health departments believe the virus is spreading due to bars, churches, out of state travelers, and large casual gatherings.”

Blame someone else. Never mind the fact that he and the rest of his cult of mediocrity sat with their collective thumbs up their asses while mobs assumed control over the streets of downtown Columbus, vandalized the Ohio Theater and other landmarks, including state properties. I guess since they were wearing masks all that was okay?

Here is the truth. It is a virus. It is going to do what viruses do: run it’s course. And there is sweet fuck all that the governor or anyone else is going to do to stop it. Period. I don’t care what these so called experts tell you. Whether out of ignorance or by design makes no difference: they are lying to us. It is only a question of degree.

How about that whole “kicking the can down the road”? Well, consider this. The issue of a universal mandate by edict, supported by the “executive authority” of the state, may on it’s face appear to be a projection of that authority in the greater interest of protecting public health. It is, in fact, a tacit admission that the state is virtually powerless to effect any influence over this virus’ public impact at all.  In order for the mandate to achieve it’s stated purpose the state must have a means by which it can enforce compliance. That is never going to happen because of simple math: they simply don’t have enough cops. I would like to HOPE that we still have enough officers who would refuse to enforce unconstitutional orders, but that’s another column.

So as a form of kicking the can the governor has conveniently shanghaied our entrepreneurs and merchant class as unwitting enforcers of the mandate. Either enforce our rules or we, the state, will shut you down. Small, privately held business owners have by now (at least among those who still have a breath of life) reached the state where they are able to openly question exactly what this really means. Does taking away someone’s driver’s license include the removal of the mental and physical skills required to drive a car? Of course it doesn’t. The state revoking your “license” to operate a business likewise does not possess these godlike capabilities. “Oh, but they’ll levy fines!”, one might say. Yes, no doubt they will. So don’t pay them. If it comes to it, take it to court. They will lose. The small business owner has already been backed into a corner where there is nothing more to lose.

Look around your own community, the places where you buy gas, groceries, morning coffee. Now ask yourself this: which places have the signs posted, but say nothing if you don’t wear a mask, and which places DEMAND strict adherence?  You’ll find that big companies with a multi state presence, large corporate chains, are the commissars. In some instances these are companies who also have been very eager to place themselves in the front row of corporate virtue signalling before the altar of BLM, or whichever mob is in vogue this week. I do not expect that the corporate automatons are going to change their behavior any time soon, but SMALL business still constitutes the majority of businesses in this country. We as individuals may not have as much impact, but the small business in this country CAN make a difference. It’s time for you to draw a line in the sand and stop being pimped as the mask police. Give your market a choice: there are enough of us who have your back. The governor; nay any man, does not rule the air we breath.

And then there is the third and most sacred of any statist’s unholy trinity: never let a crisis go to waste. In old bug eye’s case it’s all about theater and posturing. Remember, he’s been at this whole “public servant” thing nearly all of his adult life. In a forty or fifty year political career in almost any state the odds are that there will only be eight years out of that career that one may have a shot at the governor gig. Twelve years at the most. As a career politician one is acutely aware that the chances of that once in a generation event occurring on their watch are not great. Probably less than twenty percent. Thus are they ever watchful to seize the opportunity.

He is playing a numbers game, but in the end none of the real numbers are going to matter.  No matter what the end result Dewine will pat himself on the back and declare, “See? If I hadn’t taken all of these bold and sweeping measures against this plague, why Ohio’s numbers would be much worse. We saved so many lives!”  Well governor, we saved a lot of American GIs by dropping atomic bombs on Japan. There are few who dispute this, yet there is NO possible way to quantify lives saved. Any figure can be an estimate, an educated guess, and nothing more. Just like your lives saved. Was it necessary for you to nuke countless livelihoods and businesses? Will they be your Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and how will the historians judge you? Or republican voters?

This is Dewine’s big moment; the career defining event. Just like it has been for one Dr. Anthony Fauci. These men are not so dissimilar. They are both career state apparatchiks, albeit of differing stripes; yet neither of whom have the legitimate authority to take decisions on my behalf. Or yours. Or anyone else’s. CONSENT OF THE GOVERNED, remember?

It is time to revoke your consent. If you do not you are permitting the establishment of  health departments as the de facto Gestapo for whatever whims state or local authorities “declare”, whether they have that authority or not. I assure you that if one of these goons decides that household pets are carriers of this virus or any other, they will pay an eminently qualified veterinarian (of their choosing) to lend credence to the claim. Then the animal control officers will be likewise deputized, perhaps even armed in some cases, to come to your home and remove your pets, take them to the pound and euthanize them. All in the name of the public health. You think that’s crazy? Look around you friend. Don’t doubt me.

Governor Dewine’s edicts are not just bad science. They are bad faith.


Ford Wenty report end, 20 July 2020



An aging punker’s epiphany in the parking lot behind the Adam and Eve store in Piqua

Yea, though I walk in the banal attire of the Chickenshit Conformist; I will countenance no Bullshit, for I am the most cynical fox in the henhouse.


These and other famous last words thunder throughout the epochs of history. I still share Biafra’s contempt, but I’ve learned to apply it more critically. Speech is only truly free when it comes without the obligation to listen.

And last, though hardly least, one must know the truth in the assertion that every revolutionary becomes a reactionary the day after the revolution succeeds.

Urban America is on the precipice of every square mile being exactly like Flint, Michigan. Much of it is already there. These are the new Warsaw Ghettos, where they mean to keep you. In perpetuity.

Every new cause is a call to arms; to the streets and to Twitter, where combat is sanitized and conducted only within the set of rules established by your minders. You are all tools doing the bidding of the Ghetto Masters. And you are all fool enough to keep going back for more.

Forty some years ago we were the white punks on dope. Today you’re all just a bunch of big white dopes, marching under banners that you believe will insulate you from the long arm of the Inquisitors of the Church of the Sacred Woke.. The look upon your faces when they come for you will be priceless.

Ford Wenty’s indispensable tips for how to deal with crocodiles

To begin, there are some essential facts about crocodiles which must be clear to all who wish to survive an encounter.  First and foremost, as far as our best science can tell, the crocodile (and it’s variant cousins) have been alive and thriving on this planet since before we were a whisper in some ape’s nutsack. A relic from the age of dinosaurs; yea even, perhaps survivors of the great meteor impact circa 60 million years ago. These facts alone suggest a species predisposed to being a badass. The secret to this longevity is an extraordinary simplicity of design. While we humans have dedicated ourselves to evolving our conscience, our reptilian counterparts have instead refined their best physical attributes so as to dominate their environment and thrive as a species.  Every moment of every day is about the survival of the individual crocodile (eating) and of the crocodile as a species (fucking).

Understanding these basic truths are critical in determining how one may deal with crocodiles. In only a few centuries, a mere blink of an eye in their context, strange mutations have occurred. We have witnessed the accelerated evolution of strange new urban varieties of this species; a crocodile 2.0, if you will. Though their habitat may have expanded, know that the basic traits have remained the same. If through some unfortunate circumstance one should find that they inhabit the same space with the crocodile, the creature has no interest whatsoever in sharing that space. The crocodile’s only interest is in mounting you or eating you. Either way, you’re fucked.

It would seem that in recent weeks we have become overwhelmed with these reptiles in certain quarters.  I don’t believe that there are more of them suddenly, but they are no doubt emboldened to show their numbers. There is much debate surrounding what should be done about them and as yet no consensus. Having some knowledge of game management, it would be my recommendation to pursue a course of eradication and relocation. As there seem to be few, if any, who actually wish to deal with this problem, I will hold my powder on offering solutions. I will, however, offer the following tips for what NOT to do:


  1.  Crocodiles detest solid ground. They are better suited to murky waters. The urban crocodile will attempt to lure you into it’s own environment. Under NO circumstance should one EVER attempt to engage a crocodile on it’s own “turf”
  2. Crocodiles are never benign. They may float along like a lazy log, with all kinds of cute little birds perched upon their bumpy hides. They want you to think that they are just idling lazily about the lily pads. They are not. They are waiting for something to eat or fuck; it depends only upon the time of day and the most recent satiation of either appetite which. NEVER trust a crocodile.
  3. Crocodiles are ruthless negotiators. DO NOT ever attempt negotiations with a crocodile, ESPECIALLY if one is fool enough to have been tempted into entering the crocodile’s murky waters: their home “turf”, as it were. Crocodiles are all about leverage. Even if they have not managed to attain a physical advantage within their own environment, the negotiations always begin upon the dual predicates dictating that their opponent may alternately be eaten or fucked. It’s not actually a choice. The crocodile reserves the right to exercise both options.
  4. One can NOT APPEASE a crocodile. NEVER think that by offering one’s right arm the crocodile will be contented. Since in this instance one has already signalled a willingness to be eaten, the crocodile has thus attained the desired leverage. The crocodile does not care one spit about whether you are consumed all at once, or in installments. Either way, the crocodile gets what it wants.
  5. NEVER KNEEL before a crocodile. This is an invitation to any crocodile to take your head into it’s mighty jaws and pull you down to the bottom of the river until drowned; whereupon your corpse will be drawn up to the riverbank for all to see. Then, thus rendered to a state of zero resistance, the crocodile will violently fuck your sad remains until sated. Then it will eat whatever is left.


Here we are, nearing the precipice of our third decade in a new century. I never imagined needing to have this talk, and yet here we are. The sad fact is that crocodiles, for reasons unknown to us, actually do serve some purpose in the bigger scheme of things. That purpose is not something that we need to figure out. All we need to understand is that there is no such thing as a “peaceful coexistence” with the crocodiles. Such a coexistence may only occur peaceably in which you are meat, in one sense or another, for the crocodile.  If you’re that much into submission then please, be my guest. Just don’t volunteer it on my, or anyone else’s account.