The Kirk Circus Revisited

Erika Kirk clearly can’t tell the difference between piety and hypocrisy, between grief and grift, and seems to have convinced herself that we won’t be able to either. Sadly, she has that in common with most of her fellow MAGA enthusiasts. If they weren’t so smug about their ambitions, it’d be a lot easier to pity them.

Unbidden Bits—December 9, 2025

The US Supreme Court majority, in an excess of misbegotten sanctimony, seems determined to turn our entire government over to a coprophile-in-chief and his legion of wannabe Nazi camp followers. Decent people, however, look forward to the day when all six of these black-robed poseurs find themselves plunked down next to the Trumps, the Vances, the Millers, et al., in the prisoners’ dock of a long overdue re-run of the Nuremberg Trials.

Deus vult, it turns out, doesn’t especially care who does the invoking, as long as its divine need for victims is respected.

About Religion

I was asked a few years ago how an atheist like me could square his atheism with his fondness for snippets of church Latin. It does seem an odd affectation—I wasn’t raised Catholic, and a couple of years of Latin classes in a public high school in Oklahoma back in the Jurassic hardly qualifies as any Latin at all for those who truly know it. Amo, amas, amat, Gallia in tres partes divisa est, and the ablative absolute are just the beginning of a long quest, and I was forced off the trail early.

My response to being caught in this seeming contradiction—that I was an atheist “d’expression chrétienne”—was admittedly flippant, but it was also accurate. My atheism was assembled in the back rooms of the western culture I grew up in. The only tools I could find there, at least early on, were those left behind by the Catholic Church in its long retreat, the only materials its doctrinal remnants worked over in the centuries since with more or less success by the secular carpenters who preceded me. Small wonder, then, that Deo gratias, or sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in saecula saecolorum, still seem appropriate to express the awe I feel for that branch of the human experiment I’m descended from, even though I’m as aware as Nietzsche ever was that God is dead. Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa….

Unbidden Bits—October 11, 2025

Life among our insistent MAGA fascists is made almost palatable by the caprices of human immanence. Gibson, Sterling, Stephenson, Doctorow—their antennae have long been busy registering what’s coming, even if ours have not, at least not yet. Here’s a revelation from Sterling’s Holy Fire that has lately added to the strain on my already overworked engines of impermeability:

Maya blinked. “Men and women just think differently, that’s all.” “Oh, that’s so stupid! ‘Anatomy is destiny.’ That’s all gone now, you understand? Anatomy is industry now!”

Okay, Zuckermuskians, top that if you can. We see you. Do you see us?

Rum, Buggery, and the Lash

Judging by his extended prance before the nation’s grand assembly of military poobahs this past Tuesday, Secretary of Cosplay Hegseth seems to have decided that Britain’s 18th century royal navy had developed almost the perfect formula for military effectiveness.

He did, however, trim the original just enough to take all the fun out of it. This may have seemed a bit weird for someone reputed to be both a drunk and a misogynist, but it was perfectly in tune with the Trump administration’s oft expressed infatuation with ignorant belligerence. Oorah! Semper Fi!