The 2025 off-cycle elections were not exactly a great source of joy and celebration for the Right. They’re not reason to panic, but they are definitely a warning that we can’t let our enthusiasm wane—and that we need to make sure we’re actively attempting to address the concerns of American voters.
It’s easy to swallow the black pill. Yours portly has been very overwhelmed lately between work, planning a wedding, and buying a house. Dr. Fiancée is exhausted from a series of heavy, hard rotations. We’re both ready to get to the wedding and the cruise ship, and just unplug for a week.
In such times, it’s hard to do what I need to do most—submit it all to God. That’s what I’m trying to do, but prayers are appreciated.
That said, I have not taken the black pill. All of these stressful life events will have quite obvious and immediate positive outcomes. It’s just getting through them that’s the challenge!
On Saturday I wrote a detailed analysis of the 2025 off-cycle elections. I don’t think they’re quite as dire as everyone makes them out to be—at least, not dire for conservatives’ electoral prospects in 2026. If you’re living in New York City, the outcome is pretty bad.
Regular reader and contributor Ponty asked me my thoughts about the election of Zohran Mamdani, the Socialist Islamic Mayor-Elect of New York City. He voiced a view he and I have both seen circulating: the disbelief that New York City could elect an openly Muslim mayor a mere twenty-four years after 9/11.
I boiled down Mamdani’s election to five factors (and I am sure there are more): massive immigration, identity politics, socialism’s current appeal, Americans’ short memories, and large-scale demographic shifts. Really, it’s little different from why Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez got elected the first time: she is Hispanic in a district that is overwhelmingly Hispanic and Left-leaning. That shouldn’t shock us.
With that, here is my take on the Mamdani situation:
Regular reader and contributor Ponty made a great point on yesterday’s post: “conservatives should really stop calling leftists progressives. A progression towards conflict and ruination seems more regressive to me.” In the spirit of that comment, I’m going to look back at some posts about progressivism—a truly regressive ideology:
“Progressivism and Playing God” – a post from 2020 about the progressive/regressive tendency to play God (the result of not believing in Him at all).
“AWFL Calls It Quits” – a post highlighting Leftist fragility and moral smugness.
Like with all things Satan touches, regressives pervert concepts that are beneficial or good, twisting them to be thinly-veiled covers for their own wickedness and wretchedness.
Halloween is a week past, but I still have some episodes of 31 Days of Halloween to share! By now, most interested readers have sought these final videos out on their own, but in case you missed any of the later episodes, I wanted to share them today.
On 1 October 2025 I launched a YouTube Shorts series, 31 Days of Halloween. The concept is simple: one, one-minute (or shorter) Halloween/horror movie review every day for the month of October. These reviews are super lo-fi—just yours portly recording on a phone, sitting at a desk. No frills, no fancy editing, just me giving my impressions of the films in an unscripted, fast way.
A quick note: most of the links below are Amazon Affiliate links, typically linking to the movie on DVD or Blu-Ray, as well as the books they’re based upon (or the novelizations of the films). I receive a portion of any purchases made through those links, at no additional cost to you.
Day 23: Nosferatu (1922)
Day 23 is the 1922 German Expressionist silent film classic Nosferatu.
It’s hard to believe that President Trump was re-elected roughly a year ago, and that he has been back in office almost nine months. Trump didn’t waste anytime upon taking office, putting ICE to work right away on deporting illegal aliens and deploying the National Guard to crack down on crime-ridden cities. He flooded Washington with executive orders, which, while potentially fleeting, have made it difficult for activist judges to keep up with the flurry of changes. He (sort of) started a trade war with most of the war, which, if not exactly consistent, shook up international markets and put the world on notice that the free ride at America’s expense is over.
I’m largely satisfied with Trump’s progress so far. My major concerns are that he has been too inconsistent on tariffs; too slow on swamp drainage (although the massive layoffs during the government shutdown, as well as the DOGE-payouts, were huge); and too cozy with certain lobbies. As to the first, I figure he is using tariffs more as a foreign policy cudgel and/or carrot than as a consistent policy towards repatriating American manufacturing. To the second, I think we’re facing a “root-and-branch” situation that requires a radical, near-total replacement of official Washington. For the third, even there Trump is showing signs of shaking off his dogged devotion to his donors of dubious dual loyalties.
Those quibbles aside, things are demonstrably better than they were one year ago. The Democrats are something of a national laughingstock. Major corporations are shifting into alignment with elements of Trumpism. The rampant Leftism of the culture has become more muted. I have no illusions that these changes are permanent, but they suggest that the powers-that-be are cowed.
All of that said, I’m eager to see what happens next—and to prepare for Vance’s presidency.
Today is Guy Fawkes Day (or Night) in merry old England, a holiday that is unapologetically nationalist, monarchist (in the best English tradition of that form of government) and Protestant Christian. There’s something fun and refreshingly patriotic about a holiday dedicated to burning a treacherous Papist in effigy. Not to make everything about America, but it smacks of the Fourth of July, albeit without the anti-monarchist undertones.
Most Americans will be familiar with Guy Fawkes Day and the iconic mask from the film V for Vendetta (2005), in which the meaning of Guy Fawkes focuses on the man’s role as a would-be freedom fighter for English Catholics against an oppressive Protestant regime. In the context of the film, the titular V dons the mask in the context of a freedom fighter against a fascistic, quasi-religious British government.
Yours portly has had very little time for watching flicks lately, but I managed to squeeze in the 1988 remake of The Blob. It and the 1958 original are both films I’ve known about my entire life, but I have never seen either of the flicks. I think an episode of Muppet Babies featured clips of the titular creature from the 1988 film, so I had a good image of the pink, oozing goo from my early childhood, but otherwise all I knew about either films was that they involved a gelatinous, amorphous entity absorbing people lethally.
Well, October has come and gone, and yours portly ties the knot in just twenty days—gasp! But let’s take one more look back at the best month of the year:
Well, the 2025 Spooktacular is in the books. My neighbor called it “the last bachelor Spooktacular,” as it’s the last front porch recital before my wedding. It is also distinct in that it is very likely the last front porch recital at my current home, as Dr. Fiancée and I are in the process of purchasing a home. Of course, if my house lingers on the market for an extended period—a distinct possibility in my rural community—we could see a Spring Jam in Lamar in May 2026. We shall see!
But I digress. The “last bachelor Spooktacular” was truly a bachelor’s endeavor. None of my family could attend, and Dr. Fiancée was both sick and up the entire night before on-call. That meant yours portly had to take care of the preparations solo.
Fortunately, I’d gotten a head-start by working around the house each night after work. By the time last Saturday rolled around, however, I was absolutely wiped out, and slept in until after 11 AM—a rarity for me. Dr. Fiancée suspects that I was sick (I repeated the sleeping-in feat the following day), and I had been fighting off a cold most of the week, but even with my delayed start, I managed to get everything done. I even made my Mom’s legendary Rotel dip, which consists of melting vast quantities of Velveeta “cheese” product and mixing it with two cans of Rotel diced tomatoes and green chilis. I apparently did it right, because it was a hit.
Regardless, there was still a good bit to do in the yard and on the front porch. I’m not exactly big on regular cleaning—another quality of my rapidly expiring bachelorhood—and my front porch was looking pretty forlorn. The yard itself was a bit rough, but my neighbor had mowed it earlier in the week, so I mainly just had to deal with the flower beds and some pruning.
It was a day of little things going awry. For example, I grill hot dogs for the festivities. My grill had plenty of propane, but the electric starter wouldn’t work. When I went to get a stem lighter to light the grill manually, the lighter was out of butane. I couldn’t locate any matches, so I surrendered and decided to boil the hot dogs (on the plus side, my grill got a good cleaning). When I made the Rotel dip, I had the heat too high and some of the cheesy goo bubbled over onto my stove. John’s PA had a faulty cable—and so on.
But, in spite of it all—and I was more stressed than this post is letting on—the event was a success.
The Portly Politico 