The Post-Partisan Emporium

  Anarchy in the Levant: Your Future Dream Is a Chaos Scheme Pepe Escobar Tehran and Moscow harbor no illusions – and are preparing accordingly. The war on BRICS is just getting started. Syria as we knew it is being eviscerated in real time – in geographic, cultural, economic and military terms – by an appalling confluence of mercenary Rent-a-Jihadi mobs and psychopathological genocidals praying at the altar of Eretz Israel. All of that is fully supported by rabid NATOstan hyenas – masters of narrative control – and fully intertwined with the eradication of Palestine. Across the avowedly dejected Global Majority, there’s a feeling that the momentarily exhausted Axis of Resistance will need to go turbo-Sisyphus to rearrange, resupply and recalibrate the defense of Palestine. Predictably, there’s not a peep across the NATOstan sphere about Tel Aviv’s feral, indiscriminate bombing and snatching of sovereign Syrian territory. That represents a glaring illustration of the “rules-based i...

  Pardon my Biden: Drones Over America 2.0 Waiting for the punchline Donald Jeffries Joe Biden’s presidency should be treated as some kind of practical joke played on the American people. A cognitively challenged senior citizen, clearly unqualified for the role he was hired to play. Mumbling incoherently, inventing conflicting whoppers about his past, looking to “Dr. Jill” to literally guide him around the stage. Like leading men who gravitate to character actors as they age, Biden went from war loving, police loving “neoliberal” to the “Woke” monstrosity we’ve come to know and love. He was never the kind of “liberal” that I would been attracted to in my misguided, ACLU-card carrying youth. Ironically, while virtue signaling more than all the previous presidents combined did over the past two hundred plus years, Biden left behind some truly racist remarks on the record. While rightly opposing busing in 1977, the young politician declared that he didn’t want his children to grow up ...

One Song, Two Souls Meditating on an old song and the difference between the Irish and English expressions of it Morgoth I was recently on a road trip and, as is my custom, decided to take refuge in easy-listening playlists of songs primarily from the 70s and 80s. Nestled between Al Stewart’s  Year of The Cat  and The Alan Parson’s Project, I heard a song called  Matchstalk Men And Matchstalk Cats And Dogs  for the first time in decades. Hearing a pleasant but forgotten song again is a small pleasure in life, that moment of “Oh, I remember this one!” and the cracking open of associated memories. Yet this version of  Matchstalk Cats and Dogs  felt a little different, slightly unfamiliar and off. It was too folksy, cheerful, and, frankly, too Irish. But perhaps I was mistaken; maybe it had always been this way. I immediately carried out the inevitable Google search and discovered that this version was, in fact, a cover by The Fureys. The Fureys version featur...