Trump Didn’t Actually Save Us from TPP, Here’s Why

Republicans have been advancing the party line by praising President Trump for “saving America from TPP” or “formally withdrawing from the Trans-Pacific Partnership.”  The ones singing President Trump’s praises the loudest are the far-right libertarians and anarchists in the movement who have lately become apologists for state-worship and anything the new regime does.

I give credit where credit is due: it’s a good thing that the US won’t be a member of the Trans-Pacific Partnership, and joining TPP was one of the areas where I publicly disagreed with my candidate, Gary Johnson.  The Ron Paul Liberty Report said, “President Trump did not get rid of a free trade deal. The TPP was a secretive, 5,000 page deal between governments and the crony corporations that tango with them. Free trade was nowhere to be found.”

However, President Trump did not actually save the US from TPP.  In the end, all that his anti-TPP executive order did was knock down a boogeyman.

Though President Trump’s order made it known that his administration will oppose the TPP, there will be plenty of other instances for severe crony capitalism to occur under the new regime.  Furthermore, I’m interested to see the results of the tariff wars President Trump will instigate.  In these tariff wars, America will either see a dramatic rise in the cost of consumer goods, or “the most libertarian administration ever” will ask Congress to steal from the taxpayers to subsidize these tariffs on imported, keeping prices lower.  This means taxpayers will be paying for the privilege of not having to pay more money specifically at the checkout stand.

The second reason this is mostly political theater is simply that THE U.S. IS NOT, AND NEVER HAS BEEN, A MEMBER OF THE TRANS-PACIFIC PARTNERSHIP.

The seven-year-long international negotiations for TPP only came to a close in February of 2016.  Congress has not yet ratified it.  TPP is literally not a thing in this country—it was only ever the boogeyman in political debates.  It’s like the political version of Red Ribbon Week in elementary school, where teachers and school children already not on drugs loudly pledge to be drug-free.

This executive order was political theater, and the pro-murder Helicopter Libertarians are dancing and celebrating and giving him a free pass before his words are actually carried out by the political/coercive class.  This isn’t very different from the left-libertarians dancing for joy when President Obama signed in January 2009 the executive order shutting down the Guantanamo Bay detention facility.  Eight years later, Camp X-Ray still stands and is still funded by Congress.

Dr. Paul's news service said, “While President Trump deserves a compliment for today, he unfortunately has other government interventions up his sleeve to prevent us from freely and peacefully exchanging with one another.”

To be fair, I do give the President a nod of respect and approval for helping the USA steer clear of TPP.  But I won’t be convinced until the political/coercive class follows through on the executive order, and Congress formally rejects TPP and actually justifies the premature celebration of the Helicopter Libertarians.  Since America was never a part of the Partnership anyway, and now likely never will, the President is merely knocking down a boogeyman.  

* * *

Image courtesy of The Libertarian Republic

Challenge President Trump but Cheer On the First Lady

My friends and my readers know that as a proud Libertarian Party member, I oppose many if not most of President Trump's policies. Nonetheless, I still thoroughly respect him for being the worthiest, most difficult political adversary I've ever faced. These days, he seems not to know how to lose!

I'll oppose him in the political arena and I'll do my best to scale back federal power over the states and the people, but I'll also do my best to learn from his winning strategies. I'll do so knowing he's not thin-skinned, and he understands that's what opposition parties do.  I know he'll continue vigorously defending his policies while I vigorously attack them.  Despite what I believe are my moral obligations as a Libertarian, I’m nothing short of impressed with the new First Lady.

For starters, I vehemently disagree with the hypocritical liberals making negative comments about her occasional nude photoshoots as a supermodel.  I thought we had already established that women have the right to do what they please with their bodies, and that slut shaming is not okay!  I admire everything she had accomplished in her career.  She is literally a self-made woman who grew up designing and sewing her own clothes, who worked her own way out of a Communist republic to become a supermodel in New York City.  This was all before she met the current President.  I took great delight in reading a well-written, well-researched article on how she’s the archetypal wife and mother from Proverbs 31, and encourage all to read it as well.

That being said, the negative comments being made about Barron in the news media and on social media are absolutely unacceptable.  Barron is 10 years old; he’s a child and is OFF LIMITS to the public.  Anyone who goes after him will be fair game for public ridicule.   I’m equally disgusted by the abhorrent behavior of all the right-wingers who wished Sasha Obama a happy 15^th birthday by commenting on her Facebook page with horrible racial slurs about her family going back to Africa. President Obama may have been born abroad, but Michelle LaVaughn Robinson is the girl from the South side of Chicago (you right-wing garbage peddlers!).  If either Barron Trump or Sasha Obama were involved in the Boy Scouts of America (two BSA sub-groups are co-ed), I’d be happy to teach them both how to shoot safely and participate in shooting sports at my BSA ranges—and not talk politics the entire time.

As the grandson of dirt-poor immigrants, I think it's wonderful that immediately after the first black FLOTUS, America has its first immigrant First Lady: the beautiful and magnificent Melanija Knavs Trump.  I can’t help but agree with Dr. Michio Kaku that the H1B visa just might be what saves America.  Society has many ills, but these little social victories are reminders that humanity might be getting better after all.

I've decided to formally invite the First Lady to this December's military and veterans ball (but I'm not telling you loquitos which one). At this time there's really no other accomplished human being with whom I'd rather spend an evening talking and dancing. I know it's a long shot but I'm sending the invitation anyway.  I talked it over with my lovely Russian-born friend Natyusha (who is also a fan of Melania Trump), and should the First Lady accept the invitation, the three of us will go together and we’ll call it the first meeting of the Eastern European Women for Liberty caucus.  How wonderful is it that an immigrant risen to such prominence inspires Americans like Natyusha and I.

Our politics need not rule our relationships with our fellow human beings.  Let there be dialogue.  Let there be understanding.  And, as always, give me liberty or give me death.  It’s time to send an invitation and reach out to a wonderful human being.

Deo Vindice. Allons!

* * *

P.S. I’m still challenging the President and his agenda!

* * *

Philadelphia Style magazine cover digital image courtesy of The Inquisitr.

Liberty Hangout, I Hardly Knew Ye

Ex-Special Forces soldier Michael Yon wrote that sometimes the strongest negotiating position is to walk away and mean it.  Last night I walked away from Liberty Hangout. It was fun while it lasted (short as that was). I bear them no ill will at all since it's a page supposedly dedicated to voluntarism.  I volunteered one way and clearly they volunteered in another. But I won't be made a fool of by people who don't respect me.

I only wish they'd been respectful enough to just tell me they prefer to promote Donald Trump, and they weren't interested in my 6 (now 9) articles on making liberals into libertarians. I wish them the best, which I feel is a lot more than I ever got from them. It became apparent over the course of the last week that I was being censored because of my vocal Libertarian skepticism of the Trump regime, as well as my eagerness to recruit new libertarians from the Left.  If the Left had enough good prospects for Murray Rothbard, then it has enough good prospect for me.  It was time to part ways peacefully.  I'm taking my free labor elsewhere.  This is what it looks like when ‘the market’ makes decisions.

I’m deeply concerned about the direction the website is going in the way it glosses over the Keynesianism in President Trump's economic policies.  I had high hopes that I’d actually get to promote voluntarism, but I have a hard time reconciling how its voluntarist owners, based on frequent social media posts, could believe that dropping people from helicopters for what’s basically left-wing thought crime is somehow moral and acceptable.

Anyway, it's over. Minus the Trump propaganda, I really do hope Liberty Hangout climbs in the web rankings because neoconservatives need to be exposed to libertarian ideas.

A Message to the Libertarian Party from Uncle Ruckus

"Now now now, I don't wanna hear no talk ‘bout making liberal America sane again from any of y’all dang ol' America hatin' Wesley Snipes tax rebels!  Donald Trump is the most libertarian public soyvant since White Jesus! 

Only reason any of y’all Murray Rothbard peace-on-earth dope-smokin’ hippie types hate this great man is ‘cause he wants to make America great again!  He’s actually filled out in his life what y’all unemployable Freedom! t-shirt-wearin’ basement-of-yo-momma’s-house podcast-blogging Libertarian delegates fear most: a job application. 

Well guess what: ain’t no Libertarians gonna get elected, so ya might as well work with the Grandest Old Party and other great libertarian men like Paul Ryan and Steve Bannon so we can get somethin’ done around here.

I thank God and His divine messenger Ronald Reagan for bringing us this incredible libertarian man who don’t give no damn 'bout cultural Marxist beta-cuck issues like savin’ the black man from going to jail for the rest of his life over weed.  He shoulda thought about that befo’ he broke the law!

Y’all wicked little godless reason-loving atheist commies better hope the greatest libertarian on the planet don’t use Immigration and Customs Enforcement to physically remove yo’ black-and-yellow asses back to Ancapistan, Mexico where y’all came from.  It’d soyve you right, and y’all 420 canna-bunnies can have all the gay Jew Nazi cakes you want!

All y’all Fedora neckbeard anarchists leave these nice Republicans alone, now, you hear?  Now git off muh roads!" 

--The Reverend Father Uncle Ruckus, no relation

* * *

Uncle Ruckus is the property of Aaron McGruder and Sony Pictures Television.  Image from YouTube.  In case you hadn't figured it out, this post is satire.

Trump Supporters are the Sheep from 'Animal Farm'

This article was originally published by Liberty Hangout under the title "Why Trump Supporters Should be Wary of Trump and His Cabinet Picks."  The original version was heavily edited and toned down to appeal to a broader audience, which I can respect.  I'll completely own up to the shock value of some of the things I say.

Thankfully, the Libertarian Party of Nevada brings you the uncensored version, "Trump Supporters are the Sheep From Animal Farm" in all its unapologetic Libertarian glory! (Read more)

* * *

Image courtesy of myers0688 on Pinterest.

Why Trump Supporters Should Be Wary of Trump and His Cabinet Picks

Published by Liberty Hangout

One of the top reasons some libertarians support Trump is because his very existence and daily life is an attack on political correctness and the PC culture that seems to dictate policy these days.  That's nice, but as John Wayne the Duke said, "Courage is being scared to death... and saddling up anyway."  So why did they not saddle up before?

To be fair, I really like Trump's Twitter page--it's beyond entertaining.  However, it's just not complete without Mark Hamill doing those Joker voices.  I understand how PC culture bothers people on a deep level, but no one should need a rude demagogue to protect them from the PC atmosphere.  They ought to hop on their computer right now and start writing criticisms of the PC culture!  Saddle up already, cowboys!  Stop asking for permission!

Another reason for the gold-to-red transition is that folks who are ideologically libertarian aren't exactly impressed with the Libertarian Party. (Read more)

Anarcho-Jarhead [flash fiction]

Flash fiction. noun. Fiction that is extremely brief, typically only a few hundred words or fewer in its entirety.

Chunks of mud brick rained down on Carter as he kissed the ground to dodge the bullets tearing through the compound wall.  Shit!  The tangos had a heavy MG.  With one hand he adjusted his Kevlar helmet, shifted out of whack in the dive.

He grabbed his M4 rifle, his knee pushed up and he dashed around the corner with his battle buddy on his heels.  They joined two others behind a Bradley fighting vehicle steadily making its way up the street as bullets clanged off the armor.  The tank’s side turret, mounted with a .50 caliber chain gun, returned fire at the al-Qaeda position as the tracks kept rolling and semi-crouched ground pounders trotted to keep up with their shield.

He huffed with deep heaves, pushing aside his nut-shriveling fear at the painful sound of the tango’s heavy MG shots ringing off the tank, lapping at his ear drums like jackhammers.  A tango, face covered in a red checkered shumoch, popped his head and rifle out of a window from an angle where the Marines were exposed.  Carter popped off two rounds from his M4 without missing a beat and the tango fell dead back into the house.

His sailor battle buddy pointed to their periphery.  Carter peeked in time to see the mortar crew mad-dashing toward an alley with access to an open yard.  They crossed the street, reeking of blood and shit, at a run past the bodies of two tangos with AK-47s still in hand and ruby caverns where their faces used to be.

The Marines were in this alone today.  Where the fuck were the security forces?

 “Corpsman!” someone desperately shouted, and his sailor battle buddy smack-patted his shoulder, saying ‘Come on!’  And they took off.  This was the eleventh day of the offensive and they still had three quarters of Ramadi to clear.  The cops they’d trained and heavily armed over the last two months were nowhere to be seen.

After the last tangos died or took off, their company lost three Marines killed and five wounded that day.  Carter had an epiphany on the ride back to the FOB.  If fighting for this country wasn’t worth it to the locals, then he sure as hell wasn’t getting blown up for this shit.

But he still had to finish his tour…

* * *

“You’re in for a treat, dude,” Raccoon said (so named because his favorite hat had ears). Six guys were crammed into an old VW van that reeked of weed and peyote.  Carter had never been to ‘Billy Madison College,’ as they called the warehouse where Raccoon’s friends put on underground punk shows.  He was now a resident of Hemingway House, a collective that grew legal weed, let people crash on their couches, and generally helped each other out.

The paint-cracked, dented VW van pulled up to the warehouse where a crowd had already gathered.  Guys and girls sipped beers and Four-Locos in paper bags, smoked cigarettes and an assortment of retro pipes, and Carter even caught a whiff of a pot cloud hovering over the crowd.  These lovers of the DIY punk scene were milling around, socializing while the bands unloaded their gear around the back.

People in the crowd shouted to greet friends that they recognized.  A 6’5 punk with a Pabst Blue Ribbon ball cap and a full beard on his smiling cheeks appeared from the crowd to greet Raccoon with a lumberjack’s hug.  He even wore a green and black flannel shirt adorned with the buttons and patches of different underground punk bands no one’s ever heard of.

Raccoon freed himself from the lumberjack punk’s embrace and pointed to Carter.  “Carter, meet Party Marty.”  Party Marty beamed at him and offered his hands with a ‘What’s up, man.  Anybody who’s cool with Raccoon is cool with me.’  Marty took them inside the warehouse to give Carter the noob’s tour.  They stepped into a small office lobby converted into a box office.  Posters of bands that had performed here on sleeping-bag-and-shoestring-budget tours covered the walls.

Carter’s attention was focused on the fallen angel eyeing him playfully from behind the counter.

Long, raven hair worn in the trademark Bettie Page style accented her olive-tan complexion.  Subtle red lip stick clashed with her curious green eyes.  A black Misfits t-shirt met the tattered denim skirt hugging her hourglass curves, and her slender legs sported black leather Doc Marten boots.  He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to compare his vinyl records with hers or eat her face.

“Five bucks,” she said. She held the stamp and ink pad expectantly.  Carter fumbled in his pocket and pulled out wadded Ones.

“Aw, damn,” he said disappointedly, “I’ve only got three…”

She shrugged.  “It’s cool.  Just donate what you have.” And he did.

Party Marty and Raccoon led him into the main warehouse, magnificently adorned with punk murals of guitars, skulls, flowers, band logos, the giant circled jagged A that was the anarchy symbol.  Christmas lights lined the walls and people were kicking it, drinking their booze inside and passing a peace pipe just outside the loading bay.  It was incredible.

Carter looked back to the box office to notice that beautiful punk queen sneaking a peek at him.  She blushed and smiled.

When the bands began to play, over a hundred people crowded into that warehouse.  They jumped, danced, fist pumped, moshed, and the music vibrations from the loud stage speakers flowed through them like ripples in water.  Carter was dancing with the Hispanic Bettie Page who’d been eyeing him, and before long they were making out.  She was intoxicating to look at and to touch.

That’s when it hit him.  The fucked up war, Hemingway House, this network of people literally entertaining themselves, the donations, and the beautiful chaos of the music.  It finally occurred to him.  No need for government.  No need for authority…

Carter was months out of the Corps, but he was finally home.

END

* * *

Marines photo courtesy of Eternal Spectator. VLHS photo courtesy of OC Weekly.