Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Monday, July 31, 2006
So, let's recap now...
In this show --as well as in my previous show, "One-Man Sleeper Cell"-- I have destroyed:
1. The Supreme Leader of Cucka Land.
2. Chief Legal Sophist Alberto Gonzalez.
3. The Flying Car People. Who are in cahoots...with...The AstroGenital Brigade!
4. The Pathos Protection League.
5. The Holocaust(R) Industry.
6. The 9-11 inside job.
7. The Foxman News Channel.
8. The word "anti-semite" ("You're just a filthy ContraMe!")
9. The FakeState of Israel.
10. The Cucka People.
...as well as lesser entities that somehow thought they figured into things.
In each case I have appropriated their power as my own, as the spoils of war.
I am very close to shutting down The Great Hahperdidah Wars.
I now move on to my next target:
THE ILLUMINATI
You worship wrong god. You not know chaos theory good. You no listen to me earlier. Me attack across time. Your boss real target of my boss. Don't get in way...
1. The Supreme Leader of Cucka Land.
2. Chief Legal Sophist Alberto Gonzalez.
3. The Flying Car People. Who are in cahoots...with...The AstroGenital Brigade!
4. The Pathos Protection League.
5. The Holocaust(R) Industry.
6. The 9-11 inside job.
7. The Foxman News Channel.
8. The word "anti-semite" ("You're just a filthy ContraMe!")
9. The FakeState of Israel.
10. The Cucka People.
...as well as lesser entities that somehow thought they figured into things.
In each case I have appropriated their power as my own, as the spoils of war.
I am very close to shutting down The Great Hahperdidah Wars.
I now move on to my next target:
THE ILLUMINATI
You worship wrong god. You not know chaos theory good. You no listen to me earlier. Me attack across time. Your boss real target of my boss. Don't get in way...
No one take the bait.
Israel has masters, too. Oh, the Jews don't actually run anything... You watch too much TV. The Jews are useful idiots is all. Tell them that people will think they're the best, and they'll do anything.
"Your big nose is pretty. Here, put this cucka on you."
"OK! ...What next?"
Israel's role is to start an enormous war, the aftermath of which may be used by Israel's masters to reconstruct the world according to their plan. It's always been this way. It had nothing to do with some homeland, you big silly. That was the marketing.
Is it a grand, nefarious, cosmic plan? Mmmm...no. It's about making money. And accruing power. That's all. Kind of hum-drum. But you certainly won't like it.
Don't anyone get sucked into Israel's continued provocations.
Israel now is morally dead. Its political death will come soon enough...by its own hand.
And we'll all get crunk and have cookouts and sing songs.
Their god didn't say that Palestine belonged to the Jews. Their god said that Israel would be established after the Messianic Redemption. ...And guess what sure hasn't happened yet... I can't conceive of any people more in _need_ of redemption than the Jews. This kind of implies that the time is not yet right for the true Israel.
What you see over there is not the true Israel; it's an abomination. It's a fake. Let it destroy itself. Don't let it destroy you.
You will want a guide...
"Your big nose is pretty. Here, put this cucka on you."
"OK! ...What next?"
Israel's role is to start an enormous war, the aftermath of which may be used by Israel's masters to reconstruct the world according to their plan. It's always been this way. It had nothing to do with some homeland, you big silly. That was the marketing.
Is it a grand, nefarious, cosmic plan? Mmmm...no. It's about making money. And accruing power. That's all. Kind of hum-drum. But you certainly won't like it.
Don't anyone get sucked into Israel's continued provocations.
Israel now is morally dead. Its political death will come soon enough...by its own hand.
And we'll all get crunk and have cookouts and sing songs.
Their god didn't say that Palestine belonged to the Jews. Their god said that Israel would be established after the Messianic Redemption. ...And guess what sure hasn't happened yet... I can't conceive of any people more in _need_ of redemption than the Jews. This kind of implies that the time is not yet right for the true Israel.
What you see over there is not the true Israel; it's an abomination. It's a fake. Let it destroy itself. Don't let it destroy you.
You will want a guide...
Newtonian Physics Weirdo Brigade Symposium
If you missed the Newtonian Physics Weirdo Brigade on C-SPAN, you can watch it here: Google Video
Or read the New York Times. Your choice. As you were. They painstakingly present _both_ sides: The lies..._and_ the truth! Nice model of journalism... Lukewarm water...
And here you can see Alex Jones' "Terrorstorm," a documentary that you will find informative. Google Video
Mr. Silverstein, whatever have you been up to? Are you one of the sayanim?
Or read the New York Times. Your choice. As you were. They painstakingly present _both_ sides: The lies..._and_ the truth! Nice model of journalism... Lukewarm water...
And here you can see Alex Jones' "Terrorstorm," a documentary that you will find informative. Google Video
Mr. Silverstein, whatever have you been up to? Are you one of the sayanim?
9-11 Complicity
I suppose I owe it to Congress to inform them that the Citizens' Lawful Government Tribunals will take a special interest in which members are financed by 9-11 actor, Israel.
It's pretty much a shortcut to determining complicity. We have limited resources, after all --at least initially...
CLGT will take favorable notice, however, of efforts by those who seek redemption in rolling back this police state.
It's pretty much a shortcut to determining complicity. We have limited resources, after all --at least initially...
CLGT will take favorable notice, however, of efforts by those who seek redemption in rolling back this police state.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Hey, Blowhard Establishment Press!
Here's a simple headline that doesn't take much guts:
HUH. THE NUMBERS DON'T ADD UP. THOSE BUILDINGS FELL RIGHT DOWN FUNNY.
You know you're no longer relevant, right?
The Thrifty Nickel could put your moveable-type printing presses to a higher and better use. ...And at least they proclaim to be talking advertising talk.
HUH. THE NUMBERS DON'T ADD UP. THOSE BUILDINGS FELL RIGHT DOWN FUNNY.
You know you're no longer relevant, right?
The Thrifty Nickel could put your moveable-type printing presses to a higher and better use. ...And at least they proclaim to be talking advertising talk.
Yahoo! Music: Yeah (Pretentious Version) by LCD Soundsystem
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This is the score for the scene where I casually stalk my enemies before dismantling their minds and defecating into their souls, then sardonically tossing those infected mindslices into the sea of energy with no informational structure. And then I go have lunch.
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Yahoo! Music: In The Meantime by Spacehog
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Play this song while imagining me watching Fox News while Judge KnowNothing talks advertising talk. You'll experience my surreal sense of confusion. It makes me want to go outside and bang my head on the curb and flagellate myself and wail lamentations for the lost art of reason.
Nobody's home...
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Donald is smarter than we thought.
The reason why Donald Rumsfeld seems "literally in a parallel universe and slightly deranged" is because he knows full well that the jig is up. Israel's moral standing for existence is completely gone, his hubristic adventure in the Middle East is a disgusting horror show, the 9-11 inside job is now common knowledge among those who follow such things, and he knows it's only a matter of time before he swings.
You'd seem distracted, too.
Get ready for all hell to break loose as these criminals try to get out of their just punishment. They will attempt to move the levers of power to forestall their fate. They will employ any pretext.
You, dear reader, have you chosen wisely? Donald and George and Allie and Dick now understand that the plan all along was to sacrifice them. Their bosses' plans have worked out well. What you see now is no mistake; this was planned: The dissolution of the United States as an impediment to someone's global power play. It will come with a price, however: The public's embrace of the dialectical solution will be achieved only by those men's executions. Still on board? Whistle a happy tune and sidle away...
And you, decent American, familiarize yourself with the concept of lawful government and the moral authority with which you may lawfully repulse that which masquerades as it. The finest minds, both past and future, will applaud you. But don't look to your contemporaries for approval; they're too busy watching television to know what's real...much less to know what's right.
You'd seem distracted, too.
Get ready for all hell to break loose as these criminals try to get out of their just punishment. They will attempt to move the levers of power to forestall their fate. They will employ any pretext.
You, dear reader, have you chosen wisely? Donald and George and Allie and Dick now understand that the plan all along was to sacrifice them. Their bosses' plans have worked out well. What you see now is no mistake; this was planned: The dissolution of the United States as an impediment to someone's global power play. It will come with a price, however: The public's embrace of the dialectical solution will be achieved only by those men's executions. Still on board? Whistle a happy tune and sidle away...
And you, decent American, familiarize yourself with the concept of lawful government and the moral authority with which you may lawfully repulse that which masquerades as it. The finest minds, both past and future, will applaud you. But don't look to your contemporaries for approval; they're too busy watching television to know what's real...much less to know what's right.
Israel no smart.
No make Hezbollah go away in week.
Hezbollah look strong. Israel look funny.
Too many baby have no brain now. And make more EarIntestine with RadioBomb.
Now everyone there friend with Hezbollah.
Everyone know 9-11 inside job. Israel have role.
It bye bye time now.
Oopsie.
Cucka People talk faster now. Need more lie.
Hezbollah look strong. Israel look funny.
Too many baby have no brain now. And make more EarIntestine with RadioBomb.
Now everyone there friend with Hezbollah.
Everyone know 9-11 inside job. Israel have role.
It bye bye time now.
Oopsie.
Cucka People talk faster now. Need more lie.
Howard Dean is an embarassment.
He talk a lot of advertising talk. He use word that have no meaning like YuckyMen, and accuse people of being ContraThem.
[I wonder how much money he's getting from 9-11 actor, Israel.]
He make good Dipshit National Committee Chairman. He want more HappyTimeNicenessProgram.
[To allege that a party carried out an action (the beheadings) does not make one ContraThem.] You logic not good.
He save world with Sophist-O-Logic and more shakedown.
[No thanks...]
[I wonder how much money he's getting from 9-11 actor, Israel.]
He make good Dipshit National Committee Chairman. He want more HappyTimeNicenessProgram.
[To allege that a party carried out an action (the beheadings) does not make one ContraThem.] You logic not good.
He save world with Sophist-O-Logic and more shakedown.
[No thanks...]
Saturday, July 29, 2006
You haven't read the rules, have you?
If you are new to the show I will remind you that your opinion is not at all relevant.
My every utterance has one objective: The total dismantling of your minds.
Don't you ever come to believe that you know what's real. I will inform you of what is real at my pleasure and convenience.
When I'm done, you'll thank me for it. But until that time, you would be well served by shutting your face. ...It's embarassing to watch you make noises with your mouth holes.
My every utterance has one objective: The total dismantling of your minds.
Don't you ever come to believe that you know what's real. I will inform you of what is real at my pleasure and convenience.
When I'm done, you'll thank me for it. But until that time, you would be well served by shutting your face. ...It's embarassing to watch you make noises with your mouth holes.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Pulling a Tawana Brawley
I find this suspicious:
"SEATTLE (Reuters) - A woman was killed and five other women were wounded on Friday when a gunman opened fire at a Jewish organization in downtown Seattle that last weekend organized a rally in support of Israel." Story
According to Jewish Federation of Greater Seattle Vice President Amy Wasser-Simpson, the man "got through" security and dispassionately announced that "I'm a Muslim American; I'm angry at Israel." He then started shooting.
Let's recap...
1. Rupert Murdoch and Bill Kristol have informed us that the Jews are now known as The Cucka People, because Fox=Jew=Cucka=Lie. The transition from Jew to Cucka happened when The Foxman News Channel opened a studio in The Cucka House.
2. Israel's support is fast approaching zero, as it has proven itself a bunch of savage troglodytes.
3. The rock has been lifted on 9-11 and Israel has been implicated. As a result, Israel will be erased. That much is beyond question. What remains to be seen is whether The Cucka People will inadvisedly continue to identify with this doomed abomination.*
"We need a fast pathos infusion into this show! Let's kill some poor, downtrodden Jews!"
Let's translate this story:
"A Cucka Person said that a Muslim said, 'I'm a Muslim American; I'm angry at Israel.'" Or, by equivalency, "A Lie Person said that a Muslim said, 'I'm a Muslim American; I'm angry at Israel.'"
Who says such a thing? It's very convenient that he stated all those facts for us.
The architects of Israel were happy to kill six million Jews in order to establish the pathos for the erection of Israel; they'll be happy to kill another few to punch up the sales pitch.
Beware false flag operations...as this very well may turn out to be.
-----------
*Not to mention that the Citizens' Lawful Government Tribunals will take a special interest in those members of government who have allied themselves with this entity. It won't...look good...to be financed by this 9-11 actor.
"SEATTLE (Reuters) - A woman was killed and five other women were wounded on Friday when a gunman opened fire at a Jewish organization in downtown Seattle that last weekend organized a rally in support of Israel." Story
According to Jewish Federation of Greater Seattle Vice President Amy Wasser-Simpson, the man "got through" security and dispassionately announced that "I'm a Muslim American; I'm angry at Israel." He then started shooting.
Let's recap...
1. Rupert Murdoch and Bill Kristol have informed us that the Jews are now known as The Cucka People, because Fox=Jew=Cucka=Lie. The transition from Jew to Cucka happened when The Foxman News Channel opened a studio in The Cucka House.
2. Israel's support is fast approaching zero, as it has proven itself a bunch of savage troglodytes.
3. The rock has been lifted on 9-11 and Israel has been implicated. As a result, Israel will be erased. That much is beyond question. What remains to be seen is whether The Cucka People will inadvisedly continue to identify with this doomed abomination.*
"We need a fast pathos infusion into this show! Let's kill some poor, downtrodden Jews!"
Let's translate this story:
"A Cucka Person said that a Muslim said, 'I'm a Muslim American; I'm angry at Israel.'" Or, by equivalency, "A Lie Person said that a Muslim said, 'I'm a Muslim American; I'm angry at Israel.'"
Who says such a thing? It's very convenient that he stated all those facts for us.
The architects of Israel were happy to kill six million Jews in order to establish the pathos for the erection of Israel; they'll be happy to kill another few to punch up the sales pitch.
Beware false flag operations...as this very well may turn out to be.
-----------
*Not to mention that the Citizens' Lawful Government Tribunals will take a special interest in those members of government who have allied themselves with this entity. It won't...look good...to be financed by this 9-11 actor.
The AssBanana People go cucka now.
The Newtonian Physics Weirdo Brigade* will be appearing on C-SPAN 1 "...at 8PM EST (7PM CST) on Saturday, July 29th and then air again for the West Coast at 11pm EST (10pm CST)." They'll be talking about the 9-11 inside job. Story
Here you can see all those kookie physicists and engineers and whoever else who just completely does not get Newtonian Physics.
Or you can go back to the "blowhard establishment press." Your choice. As you were.
The space aliens are coming down. You know what that means...
And you, dear reader, are you on the right side of history? Might want to bone up on chaos theory...
(And by the way... Should there miraculously happen to be a "terrorist" event sometime soon, you'll know who to take into custody for the space aliens. ...And you'll know whose edicts you may lawfully ignore and repulse...)
------------
*I don't mean to imply that this body of experts in any way approves of me or my snarkiness or that I had anything to do with this event.
Here you can see all those kookie physicists and engineers and whoever else who just completely does not get Newtonian Physics.
Or you can go back to the "blowhard establishment press." Your choice. As you were.
The space aliens are coming down. You know what that means...
And you, dear reader, are you on the right side of history? Might want to bone up on chaos theory...
(And by the way... Should there miraculously happen to be a "terrorist" event sometime soon, you'll know who to take into custody for the space aliens. ...And you'll know whose edicts you may lawfully ignore and repulse...)
------------
*I don't mean to imply that this body of experts in any way approves of me or my snarkiness or that I had anything to do with this event.
You're so silly to worry about that.
So Chief Legal Sophist Alberto Gonzalez has been discreetly inquiring of Republican lawmakers whether they might see fit to, you know, modifying the War Crimes Act of 1996. Maybe he's afraid he'll be prosecuted.
Allie, you big silly, no need to worry about the now defunct United States. That's just running on the fumes of everyone's memory of lawful government.
It's the Citizens' Lawful Government Tribunals you should be concerned about. And we're not interested in whatever do you think.
Allie, you big silly, no need to worry about the now defunct United States. That's just running on the fumes of everyone's memory of lawful government.
It's the Citizens' Lawful Government Tribunals you should be concerned about. And we're not interested in whatever do you think.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Oh, yeah.
By the way, there may be a continuity issue here, so I'll just let everyone know that the Zargonians thought I was doing a great job as transtemporal courier so they decided to let me stay on as Supreme Ruler of 3-Space. Hope that clears everything up.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Yahoo! Music: One Too Many Mornings by Chemical Brothers, The
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Scanner Darkly Preview
It appears that the people behind "A Scanner Darkly" have licensed for display the first twenty-four minutes of the film. You can see it here:
Scanner Darkly Stuff
I can't wait for this film to make its way into the northern New England area.
I find Robert Downey Jr's performance deliciously funny. "This is a...boy's...bike. It can't possibly be hers."
Scanner Darkly Stuff
I can't wait for this film to make its way into the northern New England area.
I find Robert Downey Jr's performance deliciously funny. "This is a...boy's...bike. It can't possibly be hers."
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
I knew that guy was funny.
I have to share with you an interesting thing about joke development:
You may have a germ of something, some sort of protojoke that you want to try out. And then over a few days, it develops into something else.
One of my all-time favorite jokes is the simple title of "Supreme Leader of Cucka Land." And what makes it funnier is that Bill Kristol essentially wrote that joke. He uttered the words "Supreme Leader," which was just so patently asinine and cockamamie and every other conceivable notion of just complete ass...face...shit...thought... that the joke wrote itself. It just popped into existence in my brain as the elixir of life, the antidote.
It's like the most objectionable things just write their own jokes. I deliver the material I do . not because I'm "edgy," but because I'm lazy.
So thanks, Bill. You have seen to it that that dumbass will now be known forever and ever amen as The Supreme Leader of Cucka Land. Want to write any other jokes?
You may have a germ of something, some sort of protojoke that you want to try out. And then over a few days, it develops into something else.
One of my all-time favorite jokes is the simple title of "Supreme Leader of Cucka Land." And what makes it funnier is that Bill Kristol essentially wrote that joke. He uttered the words "Supreme Leader," which was just so patently asinine and cockamamie and every other conceivable notion of just complete ass...face...shit...thought... that the joke wrote itself. It just popped into existence in my brain as the elixir of life, the antidote.
It's like the most objectionable things just write their own jokes. I deliver the material I do . not because I'm "edgy," but because I'm lazy.
So thanks, Bill. You have seen to it that that dumbass will now be known forever and ever amen as The Supreme Leader of Cucka Land. Want to write any other jokes?
My Audience
By the way:
I want you each to know that I believe that I have the finest audience anywhere. It's not large, but everyone who is anyone is here. You may be a friend or you may be an enemy. But for this very brief slice of time it doesn't matter.
Thanks for coming.
I want you each to know that I believe that I have the finest audience anywhere. It's not large, but everyone who is anyone is here. You may be a friend or you may be an enemy. But for this very brief slice of time it doesn't matter.
Thanks for coming.
Yahoo! Music: That's Right by Blank
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Monday, July 24, 2006
I want to barf and shit.
Israel is a fucking mutant country and should be destroyed immediately. It is an affront to the very conception of decency.
So now we know what the CuckaPeople are about: Burning children with phosphorus.
"Look at our suffering! Bang the drum slowly! We're the CuckaPeople!"
Oy vey must mean "Put more cucka on me. Me pretty now."
So now we know what the CuckaPeople are about: Burning children with phosphorus.
"Look at our suffering! Bang the drum slowly! We're the CuckaPeople!"
Oy vey must mean "Put more cucka on me. Me pretty now."
Transmission
Thinking a bad thing is almost as bad as doing it, because the "informational certitude" of a thought is very close to that of 3-space reality.
That's why you shouldn't think hateful thoughts. It's just one step away from the practice of evil.
So to stop evil, you must think the opposite: You must love.
In short, you must treat one as you would have yourself treated.
Despite whatever the bureaucratic rules may be, the only rule you need to follow when smashing the system is this: Would I have this that I would visit... visited upon me?
If there is to be hating done around here, I will do it. I know what I'm doing...
That's why you shouldn't think hateful thoughts. It's just one step away from the practice of evil.
So to stop evil, you must think the opposite: You must love.
In short, you must treat one as you would have yourself treated.
Despite whatever the bureaucratic rules may be, the only rule you need to follow when smashing the system is this: Would I have this that I would visit... visited upon me?
If there is to be hating done around here, I will do it. I know what I'm doing...
George and the Nukes
I have considered that.
I thought that the more I ridiculed the Supreme Leader of Cucka Land's impotence, the more he might try to demonstrate destructive power.
He is not permitted any say in anything of significance. His bosses won't allow it.
You don't leave a retard in charge of the store; he'd just get boogers all over everything.
I thought that the more I ridiculed the Supreme Leader of Cucka Land's impotence, the more he might try to demonstrate destructive power.
He is not permitted any say in anything of significance. His bosses won't allow it.
You don't leave a retard in charge of the store; he'd just get boogers all over everything.
Unadorned Punch in the Face No. 38
The one thing Jews wish they could buy but can't?
Being white.
--------
If you're going to sell a racist ideology to the lesser brethren, the least you can do is think it all the way through. Whoopsie Daisy... Wrong marketing.
Being white.
--------
If you're going to sell a racist ideology to the lesser brethren, the least you can do is think it all the way through. Whoopsie Daisy... Wrong marketing.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Silly little fairy...
And I thought I was... you know, the... the faggot around here...
Present your pussies to me so that I might fuck you...and show you who your alpha male is.
If nothing else, you'll make an entertaining place to dump my load.
-------
Yeah, it was time to play this card...
Present your pussies to me so that I might fuck you...and show you who your alpha male is.
If nothing else, you'll make an entertaining place to dump my load.
-------
Yeah, it was time to play this card...
You stoners should buy more Hoverounds.
So Bill O'Reilly thinks Jon Stewart's audience is a bunch of stoners...
Fine.
At least we can bathe ourselves.
------------
Reference alert:
Bill O'Reilly called Jon Stewart's audience a bunch of "stoned slackers."
OK.
Bill O'Reilly's audience has each fallen for the Nigerian Scam.
We should all drool into our bibs while waving our tattered flags and pooping.
--------
And I should point out that I don't really disrespect older folks. I quite prize them. But I do enjoy ridiculing their follies.
Fine.
At least we can bathe ourselves.
------------
Reference alert:
Bill O'Reilly called Jon Stewart's audience a bunch of "stoned slackers."
OK.
Bill O'Reilly's audience has each fallen for the Nigerian Scam.
We should all drool into our bibs while waving our tattered flags and pooping.
--------
And I should point out that I don't really disrespect older folks. I quite prize them. But I do enjoy ridiculing their follies.
I am working on some funny and/or insightful stuff.
I have more Ridiculon 5000 stuff coming, starring --surprise, surprise-- the Jews, and I'd like to flesh out my RidicuLexicon.
And I shall attempt to see whatever those Zargonians think...
And I shall attempt to see whatever those Zargonians think...
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Yahoo! Music: Wonderwall by Ryan Adams
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Friday, July 21, 2006
I am officially insane now. Be advised.
I have been driven insane by my repeated, failed attempts to "get down" with your bullshit.
Yahoo! Music: Untitled by Sigur Ros
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For my baby, Crazy Daisy.
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Wednesday, July 19, 2006
I'm sorry, did something disappear?
No need to erase Israel. It's self-destructing.
Good riddance.
We'll have to content ourselves with its domestic agents. Wherever might the sayanim be hiding?
Good riddance.
We'll have to content ourselves with its domestic agents. Wherever might the sayanim be hiding?
George has left the building...
After seeing George's performance at the G-8 meeting --"Me fly home tonight. Your country is big. And so is his. We're having a pig. I like your boobs."-- it is clear that he is heavily medicated. Hoo boy, he must have been reading all that stuff about tribunals and then started playing with his fingers and smelling his toes.
Remember that suspicious lump under his jacket at some televised debate? The one that everybody thought was a listening device? I laughed at that notion; that's just crazy talk. ...It was actually a pain applicator!
Remember that suspicious lump under his jacket at some televised debate? The one that everybody thought was a listening device? I laughed at that notion; that's just crazy talk. ...It was actually a pain applicator!
Philip K. Dick
By the way...
I was incorrect earlier when I said that Philip K. Dick was willed into existence by the society in which he lived. He was willed into existence by this one.
He had the power of temporal focusing. Or, more precisely, this society does. This communal mind wills into existence information originating in various temporal frames. All these interacting waves of information produce the desired result. Being an artist with a disabled censoring mechanism, he wrote what came to him. He thought he was insane for these ideas.*
It may be the mixing of the parts of an antidote, the parts of which are not "seized at the border" by a suspicious authority. It's a brilliant method of delivering an antidote: in various parts, from various temporal frames.
To have all this information converge right now indicates that your communal mind is in serious need of fixing...right now. Timing is everything.
---------
*And since information must come from some economically plausible source, a person had to speak them. (They couldn't come from nowhere, at least not in your agreed-upon conceptual model of reality.) And so you created Philip K. Dick. He did as you asked. And he gave his life for it. You owe him some thanks.
I was incorrect earlier when I said that Philip K. Dick was willed into existence by the society in which he lived. He was willed into existence by this one.
He had the power of temporal focusing. Or, more precisely, this society does. This communal mind wills into existence information originating in various temporal frames. All these interacting waves of information produce the desired result. Being an artist with a disabled censoring mechanism, he wrote what came to him. He thought he was insane for these ideas.*
It may be the mixing of the parts of an antidote, the parts of which are not "seized at the border" by a suspicious authority. It's a brilliant method of delivering an antidote: in various parts, from various temporal frames.
To have all this information converge right now indicates that your communal mind is in serious need of fixing...right now. Timing is everything.
---------
*And since information must come from some economically plausible source, a person had to speak them. (They couldn't come from nowhere, at least not in your agreed-upon conceptual model of reality.) And so you created Philip K. Dick. He did as you asked. And he gave his life for it. You owe him some thanks.
My Headshrinker and Me
This is some proto-form of some kind of joke or scene I'm working on:
-----------------
"Doctor, we've been through this before--"
"--I know, Chris, but I'd like to see if we can dig a little deeper. [Scribbles] Would you say that you have a grandiose sense of self-importance?"
"Wouldn't you?"
"Wouldn't me what?" [scribbles more]
"As Supreme Ruler of 3-Space? It just seems like it goes with the territory."
"OK... Do you have fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, or beauty?"
"Unh... Just look at me..." [waves his hands at himself]
"Do these powers derive from an intellectual...or a sexual...prowess?"
[Exasperated, defiant look out the window] "Doctor, I'm hung like a field mouse. ...Of course it's intellectual. Who else do you know has the power to attack across time?"
-----------------
"Doctor, we've been through this before--"
"--I know, Chris, but I'd like to see if we can dig a little deeper. [Scribbles] Would you say that you have a grandiose sense of self-importance?"
"Wouldn't you?"
"Wouldn't me what?" [scribbles more]
"As Supreme Ruler of 3-Space? It just seems like it goes with the territory."
"OK... Do you have fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, or beauty?"
"Unh... Just look at me..." [waves his hands at himself]
"Do these powers derive from an intellectual...or a sexual...prowess?"
[Exasperated, defiant look out the window] "Doctor, I'm hung like a field mouse. ...Of course it's intellectual. Who else do you know has the power to attack across time?"
The Standard...Lies...of the CuckaPeople
While tagging along behind some Senators, Bill Kristol was overheard to breathlessly say:
"They're our common enemy! You don't-- I know how much they hate you! And they make fun of you, too. I heard one of them say, 'Those Americans are so stupid they can't even figure out how to drive their own tanks and kill us!' Are you gonna take that? What are you, a bunch of sissies?! They think that you're sissies, not me, but maybe you _will_ be... And they probably-- I think, I mean-- I _know_ that they're coming from Iran! And Syria, too! All those places my Clean Break document says they'll come from! And that Chris King Pop Icon nonsense about Israel being involved in 9-11 is just-- why, it's just-- what can I say?! It's just kookie talk! Logically, it has to be kookie talk, because otherwise [gulp...] Israel will be erased..."
Mr. Kristol, no one listens to the CuckaPeople anymore. Look how far you've fallen. And stay on your knees, while you're at it; it will be one of the permitted professions for the CuckaPeople.
"They're our common enemy! You don't-- I know how much they hate you! And they make fun of you, too. I heard one of them say, 'Those Americans are so stupid they can't even figure out how to drive their own tanks and kill us!' Are you gonna take that? What are you, a bunch of sissies?! They think that you're sissies, not me, but maybe you _will_ be... And they probably-- I think, I mean-- I _know_ that they're coming from Iran! And Syria, too! All those places my Clean Break document says they'll come from! And that Chris King Pop Icon nonsense about Israel being involved in 9-11 is just-- why, it's just-- what can I say?! It's just kookie talk! Logically, it has to be kookie talk, because otherwise [gulp...] Israel will be erased..."
Mr. Kristol, no one listens to the CuckaPeople anymore. Look how far you've fallen. And stay on your knees, while you're at it; it will be one of the permitted professions for the CuckaPeople.
Second Vermont Republic
So I sent some money to that Second Vermont Republic organization. vermontrepublic.org. I hope they won't find me an embarassing prospect for a member.
The organization is the vanguard around which appears to be coalescing the deep Vermont resentment of an unresponsive federal government. Of the Vermont Secession movement, UVM professor Frank Bryan once said, "Vermont is just obstinate." You got that right.
The planks of the manifesto are generally very reasonable:
1. Don't shove bananas in people's asses.
2. Try not to make people jerk off into each others' mouths.
3. Leave us the fuck alone.
4. And take your shakedowns elsewhere.
One plank that will go away is this one:
"Equal Access. We support equal access for all Vermont citizens to quality education, health care, housing, and employment."
Yeah, I'm not so big into the commie talk. I support equal access to all those things, too, assuming that one can pay for it and one chooses to sell it to the customer in question. Vermont's not going to be CommieTown, thanks.
It seems like a great organization. But it's quite unnecessary, actually, thanks to Chief Legal Sophist Alberto Gonzalez. He has informed us, after all, that the United States no longer exists. Remember, Allie? That was your career's masterstroke...
The organization is the vanguard around which appears to be coalescing the deep Vermont resentment of an unresponsive federal government. Of the Vermont Secession movement, UVM professor Frank Bryan once said, "Vermont is just obstinate." You got that right.
The planks of the manifesto are generally very reasonable:
1. Don't shove bananas in people's asses.
2. Try not to make people jerk off into each others' mouths.
3. Leave us the fuck alone.
4. And take your shakedowns elsewhere.
One plank that will go away is this one:
"Equal Access. We support equal access for all Vermont citizens to quality education, health care, housing, and employment."
Yeah, I'm not so big into the commie talk. I support equal access to all those things, too, assuming that one can pay for it and one chooses to sell it to the customer in question. Vermont's not going to be CommieTown, thanks.
It seems like a great organization. But it's quite unnecessary, actually, thanks to Chief Legal Sophist Alberto Gonzalez. He has informed us, after all, that the United States no longer exists. Remember, Allie? That was your career's masterstroke...
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
I like my new gun.
A friend of mine gave me a new gun for my birthday. You know you've got cool friends when they give you guns or gun-related gifts.
Oh, sure, I keep guns lying around like other people keep ashtrays. But like ashtrays, you can never have enough.
It's a .380. For you folks who haven't yet caught on to the need to defend yourself against Frankenstein's Monster, I will tell you that it is pronounced "three-eighty."
It's known as a pocket gun. A wee little thing, a nice complement to the big fat fuckin guns that I normally carry.
Vermont has no gun laws. Nope. Don't need 'em. We already have laws against murdering people and stuff. So you can carry a gun any way you like --concealed, exposed, whatever. When I go to a party, we often show off our new guns. I went to the bank the other day. It was nice knowing that I had two guns on me.
A .380 is considered a "suboptimal" round. A "round" is the entire package of bullet, brass casing, and gunpowder. The size and power of the round is dictated by the size of the gun, as well as other physical considerations. Point is, the .380 makes a good backup gun to have strapped to your ankle. Or you can shove it in the wasteband of your shorts when you mow the lawn.
Though termed suboptimal because of its lessened "stopping power" --efficacy in killing someone-- the .380 is a decent round. You forty-five guys can cluck all you want, but a .45 is no good if I'm not going to carry it. Suboptimal though it may be, a shot in the face will cause a thug to reconsider his course of action.
It's a nice, little, domestically produced "double-action only" weapon. A double-action only weapon is one such that a stiff pull on the trigger is required to fire each successive round. This gun has, I think, a seven or eight-pound pull. To put this in perspective, you could hang a five-pound bag of sugar from the trigger and not accidently fire it. I like double-action only weapons for their safety. Again, you won't carry a gun if you don't feel safe with it. It's damn near impossible to accidently fire a double-action only weapon.
So If you're new to handguns, you may consider a double-action only semiautomatic or a revolver.
You may consider leaving a 12-gauge shotgun lying around. A Mossberg 500, maybe. Load it with birdshot, then buckshot, then a slug. And then another birdshot, another buckshot, and another slug. One for the ass, one for the torso, and one for the engine block of the thug's getaway car.
Enjoy your new gun. Frankenstein's Monster isn't counting on you having one. And this copperhead has plenty...
Oh, sure, I keep guns lying around like other people keep ashtrays. But like ashtrays, you can never have enough.
It's a .380. For you folks who haven't yet caught on to the need to defend yourself against Frankenstein's Monster, I will tell you that it is pronounced "three-eighty."
It's known as a pocket gun. A wee little thing, a nice complement to the big fat fuckin guns that I normally carry.
Vermont has no gun laws. Nope. Don't need 'em. We already have laws against murdering people and stuff. So you can carry a gun any way you like --concealed, exposed, whatever. When I go to a party, we often show off our new guns. I went to the bank the other day. It was nice knowing that I had two guns on me.
A .380 is considered a "suboptimal" round. A "round" is the entire package of bullet, brass casing, and gunpowder. The size and power of the round is dictated by the size of the gun, as well as other physical considerations. Point is, the .380 makes a good backup gun to have strapped to your ankle. Or you can shove it in the wasteband of your shorts when you mow the lawn.
Though termed suboptimal because of its lessened "stopping power" --efficacy in killing someone-- the .380 is a decent round. You forty-five guys can cluck all you want, but a .45 is no good if I'm not going to carry it. Suboptimal though it may be, a shot in the face will cause a thug to reconsider his course of action.
It's a nice, little, domestically produced "double-action only" weapon. A double-action only weapon is one such that a stiff pull on the trigger is required to fire each successive round. This gun has, I think, a seven or eight-pound pull. To put this in perspective, you could hang a five-pound bag of sugar from the trigger and not accidently fire it. I like double-action only weapons for their safety. Again, you won't carry a gun if you don't feel safe with it. It's damn near impossible to accidently fire a double-action only weapon.
So If you're new to handguns, you may consider a double-action only semiautomatic or a revolver.
You may consider leaving a 12-gauge shotgun lying around. A Mossberg 500, maybe. Load it with birdshot, then buckshot, then a slug. And then another birdshot, another buckshot, and another slug. One for the ass, one for the torso, and one for the engine block of the thug's getaway car.
Enjoy your new gun. Frankenstein's Monster isn't counting on you having one. And this copperhead has plenty...
Well, I guess this is the new landscape.
If there is any silver lining to the madness of the past five years it is this: The federal government has taken its own length of rope and proven itself to be an enemy of Americans. It operates for the benefit of crass commercial interests. The lie is laid bare that it has anything to do with protecting you or promoting justice.
This is something I had known for some time. But now everyone knows it. So now I don't seem like a kook anymore, talking crazy talk; now I seem eminently reasonable. As the man said, when the going gets weird, the weird turn pro...
Had this been a system of governance based on a naked expression of force, like a Robert Mugabe, me-have-guns-and-you-obey type of system, I could handle that. I can respect a greater show of force, as long as it's honestly portrayed as such; from the warrior's viewpoint, there is honorable reason in submitting to an overwhelmingly more powerful army.
But when they don't even have the guts to come right out and call it naked force, when it's advertised as being HappyTime government,... this is just not something I can respect. They're not warriors. They don't have the balls to declare themselves as your enemy. A warrior does not claim to be your friend and then stab you in the back. This does not elicit respect from me...
So let's see what's happened:
1. Your vote means nothing.
2. Intelligence agencies and foreign lobbies bribe and blackmail all three branches of the federal government.
3. The levers of power have been seized by those whose moral aspirations extend all the way to making money.
4. Trials, evidence, and all that weirdo law stuff are not relevant.
In short, the federal government has nothing to do with the duly constituted United States. That's too bad, because I kind of liked the concept of a benevolent guarantor of liberty.
In the interest of social stability, I was willing to sit on my hands and await the restoration of lawful government. Doesn't seem like that's going to happen... I suppose that one will get home sooner when he finally comes to accept that the car has broken down and that he needs to set about walking.
So I reluctantly have come to agree with Chief Legal Sophist Alberto Gonzalez and Special Attache for Legal Legerdemain John C. Yoo that the United States no longer legally exists.
Now all I have to do is give a wide berth to the savages running around with stolen government cars and misappropriated badges and guns. It is as if some local thugs had broken into the National Guard armory and driven out with a tank.
I suppose that my defense is my own responsibility now. OK. I can handle that.
And the sooner that the original states recognize that any federal authority has devolved to them, the more smoothly will be the transition to assuring social stability. If they're smart, the states will begin the process of developing a parallel currency. They will also begin a decoupling from federal mandates. State and local police must be forbidden to enforce federal laws. And they must be employed to repulse tank-driving thugs on a joyride. All of these initiatives are perfectly lawful, as the United States no longer exists.
If the states do not recognize this new political landscape, they will be abandoning their own citizens to the rapacious thugs.
Societies are most stable under law. The states must craft a new system to assure social stability in the face of this hijacked Frankenstein's Monster known as the defunct United States.
And if they refuse to do that out of cowardice, then they will understand if their betters reluctantly shoulder the burden of one's own defense...
This is something I had known for some time. But now everyone knows it. So now I don't seem like a kook anymore, talking crazy talk; now I seem eminently reasonable. As the man said, when the going gets weird, the weird turn pro...
Had this been a system of governance based on a naked expression of force, like a Robert Mugabe, me-have-guns-and-you-obey type of system, I could handle that. I can respect a greater show of force, as long as it's honestly portrayed as such; from the warrior's viewpoint, there is honorable reason in submitting to an overwhelmingly more powerful army.
But when they don't even have the guts to come right out and call it naked force, when it's advertised as being HappyTime government,... this is just not something I can respect. They're not warriors. They don't have the balls to declare themselves as your enemy. A warrior does not claim to be your friend and then stab you in the back. This does not elicit respect from me...
So let's see what's happened:
1. Your vote means nothing.
2. Intelligence agencies and foreign lobbies bribe and blackmail all three branches of the federal government.
3. The levers of power have been seized by those whose moral aspirations extend all the way to making money.
4. Trials, evidence, and all that weirdo law stuff are not relevant.
In short, the federal government has nothing to do with the duly constituted United States. That's too bad, because I kind of liked the concept of a benevolent guarantor of liberty.
In the interest of social stability, I was willing to sit on my hands and await the restoration of lawful government. Doesn't seem like that's going to happen... I suppose that one will get home sooner when he finally comes to accept that the car has broken down and that he needs to set about walking.
So I reluctantly have come to agree with Chief Legal Sophist Alberto Gonzalez and Special Attache for Legal Legerdemain John C. Yoo that the United States no longer legally exists.
Now all I have to do is give a wide berth to the savages running around with stolen government cars and misappropriated badges and guns. It is as if some local thugs had broken into the National Guard armory and driven out with a tank.
I suppose that my defense is my own responsibility now. OK. I can handle that.
And the sooner that the original states recognize that any federal authority has devolved to them, the more smoothly will be the transition to assuring social stability. If they're smart, the states will begin the process of developing a parallel currency. They will also begin a decoupling from federal mandates. State and local police must be forbidden to enforce federal laws. And they must be employed to repulse tank-driving thugs on a joyride. All of these initiatives are perfectly lawful, as the United States no longer exists.
If the states do not recognize this new political landscape, they will be abandoning their own citizens to the rapacious thugs.
Societies are most stable under law. The states must craft a new system to assure social stability in the face of this hijacked Frankenstein's Monster known as the defunct United States.
And if they refuse to do that out of cowardice, then they will understand if their betters reluctantly shoulder the burden of one's own defense...
Monday, July 17, 2006
Nothing's shocking anymore. This is boring.
[Chris on stage]
"So I was watching JewNews today..." [Waits expectantly for clucking]
"...I said I was watching _JewNews_ today..." [Still no clucking]
[Clearly put out, Chris breaks character] "What is it with you fuckin people? Where's your outrage at my sins? It's an important part of my act, you know."
[After a delay an audience member replies:]
"Chris, we call it JewNews, too."
"So I was watching JewNews today..." [Waits expectantly for clucking]
"...I said I was watching _JewNews_ today..." [Still no clucking]
[Clearly put out, Chris breaks character] "What is it with you fuckin people? Where's your outrage at my sins? It's an important part of my act, you know."
[After a delay an audience member replies:]
"Chris, we call it JewNews, too."
I have an idea for a website...
So there is finally some website where discerning people can talk discerning talk. It's LiberalsOnly.com.
Of his service, Mr. Levensalor says, "Liberals Only is dedicated to making this a site for intelligent debate among people intelligent enough to know how to debate."
First of all, as a slogan, there's way too many syllables in it. Secondly,
Debate what? The merits of the punched-up advertising copy? Liberals are only ever-so-slightly less stupid than conservatives. You should all have a website together: RollingAroundInOurCrapIdeas.com
I will remind you that it was your HappyTime notions of big government that got us in this mess to begin with. We're not interested in whatever do you think.
Of his service, Mr. Levensalor says, "Liberals Only is dedicated to making this a site for intelligent debate among people intelligent enough to know how to debate."
First of all, as a slogan, there's way too many syllables in it. Secondly,
Debate what? The merits of the punched-up advertising copy? Liberals are only ever-so-slightly less stupid than conservatives. You should all have a website together: RollingAroundInOurCrapIdeas.com
I will remind you that it was your HappyTime notions of big government that got us in this mess to begin with. We're not interested in whatever do you think.
Transmission
Forces of good,... Attack! Attack! Attack!
Don't blow anything up, but destroy the system immediately at all points! The time is now or we're all doomed!
Don't blow anything up, but destroy the system immediately at all points! The time is now or we're all doomed!
Salvation or Destruction
Those silly Jews think that I hate them.
What they don't know is that they are responsible for their own salvation. They have the ability to save it all and to redeem themselves.
In my world, everyone is redeemable.
And their redemption is at hand: ...Their own.
What they don't know is that they are responsible for their own salvation. They have the ability to save it all and to redeem themselves.
In my world, everyone is redeemable.
And their redemption is at hand: ...Their own.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
This is an amazing rule of thumb that I just thought up.
You know how everything George Bush has ever said was a complete lie? When you understand that he says and does as he is instructed, and when you see that he is nothing but a pack of lies, then you may reasonably conclude that his job is to lie to you. Because I'm not sure he could get it wrong so consistently, so accidently.
Do you ever want to know the truth about something? Just take whatever comes out of his mouth and invert it. He's a veritable oracle...of falsehood. Take his statement, completely invert it, and you have the truth.
"Israel was attacked." NEGATE. "Israel was not attacked."
"Israel is defending itself." NEGATE. "Israel is the aggressor here."
"Israel is your friend." NEGATE. "Israel is your enemy."
"I am the embodiment of good." NEGATE. "I am the embodiment of evil."
---------
This one is very easily defeated: Expose his words as lies. He's actually quite impotent.
Do you ever want to know the truth about something? Just take whatever comes out of his mouth and invert it. He's a veritable oracle...of falsehood. Take his statement, completely invert it, and you have the truth.
"Israel was attacked." NEGATE. "Israel was not attacked."
"Israel is defending itself." NEGATE. "Israel is the aggressor here."
"Israel is your friend." NEGATE. "Israel is your enemy."
"I am the embodiment of good." NEGATE. "I am the embodiment of evil."
---------
This one is very easily defeated: Expose his words as lies. He's actually quite impotent.
World War Three
Hello, FuturePeople.
We're on the same page about who you and I are; you live in a world that has long since vanquished male pattern baldness --so I no longer have the great-hair cachet that I once did. Everyone now has the hair of a twelve-year-old, I suppose...
My popularity among you owes more to my spot-on, insightful analysis of the madness of my age.
We're in World War Three now, or so says Newt Gringrich's latest talking point. This is actually a good thing, you see, because once everyone knows that it's the end of the world, we'll finally get rid of those annoying stumbling blocks to total governmental control: Antiquated notions of lawful government, human decency, and the right to be secure in your own asshole's inviolability.
Oh, sure, for a protracted time the peoples of the world went along with the ruse that "war just happens." When the bombs went off, they looked in the direction of the pointed finger.
Then you got smart. You realized that government was the source of all your woes. You saw that allowing someone to arrogate unto himself the duty of protecting you invited only more bombs, because you could be counted on to demand more protection with each successive explosion. But by this time, the parasitic interests that control government had erected a police and surveillance state that made it impossible for you to abolish the government that had become a hindrance to your prosperity.
Then the space aliens came down. And it was AssBanana People Killing Day. Oh, the carnage was a sight to behold... The gutters verily overflowed with AssBanana People blood and guts and the occasional brains. You had to pay lots of overtime to keep the gutters clean.
And the space aliens taught you to immediately beat senseless anyone who said it was World War Three --because such a person was up to no good. He only wanted to steal your money and freedom in the guise of protecting you.
We're on the same page about who you and I are; you live in a world that has long since vanquished male pattern baldness --so I no longer have the great-hair cachet that I once did. Everyone now has the hair of a twelve-year-old, I suppose...
My popularity among you owes more to my spot-on, insightful analysis of the madness of my age.
We're in World War Three now, or so says Newt Gringrich's latest talking point. This is actually a good thing, you see, because once everyone knows that it's the end of the world, we'll finally get rid of those annoying stumbling blocks to total governmental control: Antiquated notions of lawful government, human decency, and the right to be secure in your own asshole's inviolability.
Oh, sure, for a protracted time the peoples of the world went along with the ruse that "war just happens." When the bombs went off, they looked in the direction of the pointed finger.
Then you got smart. You realized that government was the source of all your woes. You saw that allowing someone to arrogate unto himself the duty of protecting you invited only more bombs, because you could be counted on to demand more protection with each successive explosion. But by this time, the parasitic interests that control government had erected a police and surveillance state that made it impossible for you to abolish the government that had become a hindrance to your prosperity.
Then the space aliens came down. And it was AssBanana People Killing Day. Oh, the carnage was a sight to behold... The gutters verily overflowed with AssBanana People blood and guts and the occasional brains. You had to pay lots of overtime to keep the gutters clean.
And the space aliens taught you to immediately beat senseless anyone who said it was World War Three --because such a person was up to no good. He only wanted to steal your money and freedom in the guise of protecting you.
I'm so prescient.
Two years ago I thought it "edgy" --in the parlance of comedy-- to advocate the nuking of Israel. (I later retracted the statement in full, not to be repeated again, because I realized that such an act would hurt innocent Muslims.)
I overheard a complete stranger say today, "We should just nuke Israel and be done with it. It's always the fuckin Jews, isn't it?"
-------
To be fair, nuking anyone isn't really an option. Cut off their aid, I say. Let that tick dry up.
I don't think Jews fully understand the liability that Israel presents to them. When Israel gets done with its lying and bombing and raping, the world will not suffer a Jew to speak with other than downcast eyes. And they will have done it to themselves. They will have placed themselves into the lowest human caste.
I overheard a complete stranger say today, "We should just nuke Israel and be done with it. It's always the fuckin Jews, isn't it?"
-------
To be fair, nuking anyone isn't really an option. Cut off their aid, I say. Let that tick dry up.
I don't think Jews fully understand the liability that Israel presents to them. When Israel gets done with its lying and bombing and raping, the world will not suffer a Jew to speak with other than downcast eyes. And they will have done it to themselves. They will have placed themselves into the lowest human caste.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Video: Ridiculon 5000
Here is the "missing" Ridiculon 5000 video. Don't take it down again, boys.
BTW, if anyone has the ability to save any of this stuff, please do so as I post it.
BTW, if anyone has the ability to save any of this stuff, please do so as I post it.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Oh, so that's why.
I now...understand...why you've been run out of every country that's hosted you. You are truly doomed --by some fantastical, karmic curse-- to wander the earth as a result of your own continuing misdeeds.
Just stop it, already. No one really is out to get you.
Just stop it, already. No one really is out to get you.
Ah, the possibilities...
I wonder how my comedy career might have gone if so many people hadn't needed killing.
The president is always right.
"The president's not a lawyer. You are. The Justice Department advised him. Did you give him such a cockamamie idea or what?"
Give 'em hell, Brother.
Give 'em hell, Brother.
Oopsie
The Communists had committed a lamentable tactical error...
All efforts at gun control halted abruptly sometime in the late nineties, when it became apparent to them that it was unachievable by lawful means.
Their haste to establish their global hegemon will prove their undoing. They left lying around the means to restore lawful government.
They left an army of some one hundred million. That's a lot.
Guess whose army it is...
All efforts at gun control halted abruptly sometime in the late nineties, when it became apparent to them that it was unachievable by lawful means.
Their haste to establish their global hegemon will prove their undoing. They left lying around the means to restore lawful government.
They left an army of some one hundred million. That's a lot.
Guess whose army it is...
Not so fast
"But as of right now, we cannot effectively punish those who have committed war crimes."
We're working on it...
We're working on it...
Monday, July 10, 2006
Mmm
Comedians --the better ones anyway-- get into the business because they want to save the society that they both love and despise,... the society in which they only ever wanted to be a welcome member.
As usual, I'm Johnny Come-Lately. ...What's left for me?
As usual, I'm Johnny Come-Lately. ...What's left for me?
Lab Analysis
Did you ever wonder what was really in HappyTimeLumLumProduct? It's this:
"[Of Baghdad] one international official told me of reports among his staff that a 15-year-old girl had been beheaded and a dog's head sewn on her body in its place; and of a young child who had had his hands drilled and bolted together before being killed."*
You've been sold poison. It was designed to kill you.
Your society is over. You know this, right?
For me, it's on to the salesmen. I will exact my revenge. You will watch. That is the relationship here.
And for your society, you might --oh, I don't know-- set about identifying your true enemy. ...It might be useful. And stuff.
--------
*There's no way I can know this is true. But I suppose it can be as true as anything else I hear. And considering the dehumanizing savagery that is bred in war, if not this then something similar.
My conscience is clear. I go to bed each night with a smile on my face, content that I am doing all I can. I don't envy you the ghosts that will torture you for the rest of your lives.
"[Of Baghdad] one international official told me of reports among his staff that a 15-year-old girl had been beheaded and a dog's head sewn on her body in its place; and of a young child who had had his hands drilled and bolted together before being killed."*
You've been sold poison. It was designed to kill you.
Your society is over. You know this, right?
For me, it's on to the salesmen. I will exact my revenge. You will watch. That is the relationship here.
And for your society, you might --oh, I don't know-- set about identifying your true enemy. ...It might be useful. And stuff.
--------
*There's no way I can know this is true. But I suppose it can be as true as anything else I hear. And considering the dehumanizing savagery that is bred in war, if not this then something similar.
My conscience is clear. I go to bed each night with a smile on my face, content that I am doing all I can. I don't envy you the ghosts that will torture you for the rest of your lives.
Pre-fight Banter
"So, Jim [turns to camera 2] ...the Supreme Ruler of 3-Space versus the Supreme Leader of Cucka Land. Who's your money on?"
Sunday, July 09, 2006
I'm even better than I thought.
You know...
If I'm saving the world, then --as this was the flashpoint of the Great Hahperdidah Wars-- then I'm saving the universe.
And if The Parasite is an entity belonging to the metaverse...
Then, quite logically --so don't argue with it or else you're a filthy ContraMe-- I am saving the metaverse.
My official slogan is, until further notice, this:
"I saved the metaverse. [cigarette exhale] So I'm not sweating it, either."
If I'm saving the world, then --as this was the flashpoint of the Great Hahperdidah Wars-- then I'm saving the universe.
And if The Parasite is an entity belonging to the metaverse...
Then, quite logically --so don't argue with it or else you're a filthy ContraMe-- I am saving the metaverse.
My official slogan is, until further notice, this:
"I saved the metaverse. [cigarette exhale] So I'm not sweating it, either."
Never a truer word...
"In the long run, the way you defeat this enemy is the spread of liberty. And that's what you're seeing unfold."
You are the genius, aren't you? Pronounce yourself defeated.
You are the genius, aren't you? Pronounce yourself defeated.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
I want a marching band and rockets and black female back-up singers.
This just occurred to me:
What if I truly did write a play that saved the world? That would be so completely awesome. Will there be a parade for me?
What if I truly did write a play that saved the world? That would be so completely awesome. Will there be a parade for me?
A Resignation
The reason why the Supreme Leader of Cucka Land does not engage me is because he understands that I am more powerful than he. I am tangling with forces the likes of which he cannot even conceive. They would not permit him to fuck anything up. He understands his place. And they understand nonlinearity.
Are you ready to rachet things up? I don't mind... This is getting kind of boring for me. And where's my movie deal? I just want everyone to understand how beautiful I am...
Are you ready to rachet things up? I don't mind... This is getting kind of boring for me. And where's my movie deal? I just want everyone to understand how beautiful I am...
Operation Fuck The Commies
Whereas:
1. 9-11 was an inside job,
2. The executive branch of your federal government has been taken over by what you may safely regard as communists (who were always a front for mere businessmen anyhow, but I'm happy to use their own advertising term against them),
3. Those communists very badly need to make you less free (and, indeed, take great joy in having emasculated the vaunted American sense of "freedom"),
4. and everyone now knows this (at least those who follow such things.)
Most don't know what to do about it. So I unveil:
OPERATION FUCK THE COMMIES
We all know those little ways that we impede an undeserving boss or a company procedure that we don't agree with. We lose paperwork, we forget to fill the toner, we "lost" that document or recording. Oops. It's hardly a firing offense...
The whole system is functioning on your own energy. Just stop doing the bad things. Don't arrest people for bullshit, don't shove bananas up people's asses, don't let lies pass your lips again.
So if you're involved in the system and you don't like it, just find ways to fuck it. And spread the truth. Because when you do, the indictment against your enemies is so damning that everyone will be caught off guard and they won't know how to deal with you. They won't dare try to publicly punish you. They'd be proving your case.
The executive branch is rotten because of, oh, I'd guess --who knows...-- a hundred people? And you know who they are... How many decent people are there in that branch? I'm guessing tons more. You can easily ignore the instructions of your bosses because the orders are unlawful. They were founded on a false flag operation. They were founded on a lie. And you will have all the armor you need when you indict those same bosses.
"You were in on it. And here's the proof."
...Poof...
"I don't think so."
Well we don't, either. You will have the favor of the Citizens' Lawful Government Tribunals.
More later. Freedom's on the way! And I wrote a hit play! ...So I'm not sweating it, either...
1. 9-11 was an inside job,
2. The executive branch of your federal government has been taken over by what you may safely regard as communists (who were always a front for mere businessmen anyhow, but I'm happy to use their own advertising term against them),
3. Those communists very badly need to make you less free (and, indeed, take great joy in having emasculated the vaunted American sense of "freedom"),
4. and everyone now knows this (at least those who follow such things.)
Most don't know what to do about it. So I unveil:
OPERATION FUCK THE COMMIES
We all know those little ways that we impede an undeserving boss or a company procedure that we don't agree with. We lose paperwork, we forget to fill the toner, we "lost" that document or recording. Oops. It's hardly a firing offense...
The whole system is functioning on your own energy. Just stop doing the bad things. Don't arrest people for bullshit, don't shove bananas up people's asses, don't let lies pass your lips again.
So if you're involved in the system and you don't like it, just find ways to fuck it. And spread the truth. Because when you do, the indictment against your enemies is so damning that everyone will be caught off guard and they won't know how to deal with you. They won't dare try to publicly punish you. They'd be proving your case.
The executive branch is rotten because of, oh, I'd guess --who knows...-- a hundred people? And you know who they are... How many decent people are there in that branch? I'm guessing tons more. You can easily ignore the instructions of your bosses because the orders are unlawful. They were founded on a false flag operation. They were founded on a lie. And you will have all the armor you need when you indict those same bosses.
"You were in on it. And here's the proof."
...Poof...
"I don't think so."
Well we don't, either. You will have the favor of the Citizens' Lawful Government Tribunals.
More later. Freedom's on the way! And I wrote a hit play! ...So I'm not sweating it, either...
Temporal Focusing
When it is said that the pen is mightier than the sword, what is meant is that the temporal power of a written blow is mightier than a physical one. The sword kills only in the temporal frame in which it is thrust. The joke kills forever. It is a blow in a fight that may be savored endlessly.
The past and future do not exist. They are perceptual conveniences that lend a conceptual framework to experiencing The Field. They are handmaidens to the one moment. The past and future are continuously rewritten, so as to be in informational harmony with the present. Your "memory" of the past is merely your perception of the informational state which you call the "past." And when the present changes, the supporting informational state which you perceive as the "past" changes, too. This leads you to believe that your newly perceived "past" is the same as it's always been. And physical "evidence" of the past changes, too; the world will organize itself to support the present moment.
Present moments may change, along an arc of informationally consistent and economically plausibly linked possible moments. I cannot take two steps and be in New Hampshire; this is not an informationally consistent next present. I must cross the river first. So the proper informationally consistent and economically plausibly linked moments are such that I must first step the necessary number of steps to go to the river, and then to row across.
There are things that I say and do that make no sense in the temporal frame in which they are issued. They don't even make sense to me half the time. But I have faith --and always did have faith-- to say and do as I am counseled. These utterances take on new meaning and power in protemporal frames. This is because --as I now understand-- those informational waves are combining with other waves in the target temporal frame. This is called temporal focusing, and is a skill too complex to be performed by the conscious mind. That's why one must have faith. ...Faith in some deeper part of oneself, or in some greater entity.
My enemies should be aware that I now know how to exercise temporal focusing.
I have the power to attack across time.
I'd say that makes me pretty dangerous, especially when combined with non-linearity.
The past and future do not exist. They are perceptual conveniences that lend a conceptual framework to experiencing The Field. They are handmaidens to the one moment. The past and future are continuously rewritten, so as to be in informational harmony with the present. Your "memory" of the past is merely your perception of the informational state which you call the "past." And when the present changes, the supporting informational state which you perceive as the "past" changes, too. This leads you to believe that your newly perceived "past" is the same as it's always been. And physical "evidence" of the past changes, too; the world will organize itself to support the present moment.
Present moments may change, along an arc of informationally consistent and economically plausibly linked possible moments. I cannot take two steps and be in New Hampshire; this is not an informationally consistent next present. I must cross the river first. So the proper informationally consistent and economically plausibly linked moments are such that I must first step the necessary number of steps to go to the river, and then to row across.
There are things that I say and do that make no sense in the temporal frame in which they are issued. They don't even make sense to me half the time. But I have faith --and always did have faith-- to say and do as I am counseled. These utterances take on new meaning and power in protemporal frames. This is because --as I now understand-- those informational waves are combining with other waves in the target temporal frame. This is called temporal focusing, and is a skill too complex to be performed by the conscious mind. That's why one must have faith. ...Faith in some deeper part of oneself, or in some greater entity.
My enemies should be aware that I now know how to exercise temporal focusing.
I have the power to attack across time.
I'd say that makes me pretty dangerous, especially when combined with non-linearity.
Yahoo! Music: Escape Artists Never Die by Funeral For a Friend
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I'm coming for you.
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Pish Posh
Have a little faith; it all turns out in the end,... after I've locked up The Perpetrators.
We'll all have a beer after the show. But until that time, I need you to understand just how scared shitless you really ought to be. ...Because these are very serious matters...
We're winning.
And you, dear reader... Have you chosen wisely? Or have you allied yourself with The Perpetrators?
We'll all have a beer after the show. But until that time, I need you to understand just how scared shitless you really ought to be. ...Because these are very serious matters...
We're winning.
And you, dear reader... Have you chosen wisely? Or have you allied yourself with The Perpetrators?
Yahoo! Music: O Superman (For Massenet) by Laurie Anderson
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Artists are efficient conduits of temporally focused information, due to their disabled censoring mechanisms. They say what they're told to say.
This originated in a retrotemporal frame.
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Huh. What's under here?
I will leave it to better minds to fully piece together the events leading up to the horror story of 9-11. The operational minutiae do not interest me. I am concerned only with tracking the guilty parties. They and I will have our stand...
No matter what door I kick in, I see chocolatey Israeli fingerprints. From Israeli airport security companies, to Israeli art students, to Israeli moving companies, to the Israeli agents in the Office of Special Plans,... to the Project for the New American Century, to "A Clean Break," to McGreevey's little boyfriend, to Cucka News,... I can't seem to find a single Muslim at the crime scenes. I find only the overweight boy, the outcast, the one who wants his day in the sun. I find the one who has given himself over to the dark force.
At these crime scenes, I find only Jews.*
Whatever have you been up to?
You can call me ContraYou all you want. You're just ContraMe. So there.
Run! Run! Run! The rock is lifted!...
---------
*It is true that the architects and beneficiaries of Israel are not Jews; the architects worship a malevolent god. They have employed unwitting Jewish dupes to provide the pathos for their show, as well as to till the land. They have insinuated themselves among the Jews in order to have some plausible claim to some hypothetical "ancestral homeland" in Palestine, and, thus, to erect an outpost in this strategically vital part of the world. But if the Jews are happy to allow them to leer from the windows of their house, then I'm happy to call them Jews, too. Their choice...
No matter what door I kick in, I see chocolatey Israeli fingerprints. From Israeli airport security companies, to Israeli art students, to Israeli moving companies, to the Israeli agents in the Office of Special Plans,... to the Project for the New American Century, to "A Clean Break," to McGreevey's little boyfriend, to Cucka News,... I can't seem to find a single Muslim at the crime scenes. I find only the overweight boy, the outcast, the one who wants his day in the sun. I find the one who has given himself over to the dark force.
At these crime scenes, I find only Jews.*
Whatever have you been up to?
You can call me ContraYou all you want. You're just ContraMe. So there.
Run! Run! Run! The rock is lifted!...
---------
*It is true that the architects and beneficiaries of Israel are not Jews; the architects worship a malevolent god. They have employed unwitting Jewish dupes to provide the pathos for their show, as well as to till the land. They have insinuated themselves among the Jews in order to have some plausible claim to some hypothetical "ancestral homeland" in Palestine, and, thus, to erect an outpost in this strategically vital part of the world. But if the Jews are happy to allow them to leer from the windows of their house, then I'm happy to call them Jews, too. Their choice...
Friday, July 07, 2006
RidicuLexicon Entry: ContraMe (n, adj)
I have invented a new word. It is an advertising term. I call it "ContraMe." It is used to describe those who are against me. Its entry in my RidicuLexicon reads thusly:
"Whosoever shall maintain that I am not the smartest or the best in all respects, or who shall make disparaging comments about me, my opinions, or my Farah Fawcett-Majors hair, shall be guilty of being ContraMe."
The ContraMe are very bad people. They eat babies and despise all that is good. So, obviously --duh-- anyone who is against me is bad and, logically, that makes me good.
You may know a ContraMe --or ContraHim, if my audience is referring to me and my enemies in the third person-- because they are against me. And their utterances may be ignored as the unseemly product of being ContraMe. Plain and simple. There.
Usage:
1. "The ContraMe have a congenital hatred of me. You can ignore them and whatever they say."
2. "That's a slanderous, ContraMe thing to say! How come you hate me so much?"
3. "Some say that Chris King Pop Icon is off base regarding his position on the popular vote, to wit: He believes that a vote is an abstracted, sublimated expression of the individual war-making power and, as such, the vote should not be granted to those unlikely to have the desire or ability to wage war. The issue his detractors have is one of how to properly gauge the true popular sen--"
"--Oh, they're just ContraHim. Ignore them. They're so full of hate."
"Whosoever shall maintain that I am not the smartest or the best in all respects, or who shall make disparaging comments about me, my opinions, or my Farah Fawcett-Majors hair, shall be guilty of being ContraMe."
The ContraMe are very bad people. They eat babies and despise all that is good. So, obviously --duh-- anyone who is against me is bad and, logically, that makes me good.
You may know a ContraMe --or ContraHim, if my audience is referring to me and my enemies in the third person-- because they are against me. And their utterances may be ignored as the unseemly product of being ContraMe. Plain and simple. There.
Usage:
1. "The ContraMe have a congenital hatred of me. You can ignore them and whatever they say."
2. "That's a slanderous, ContraMe thing to say! How come you hate me so much?"
3. "Some say that Chris King Pop Icon is off base regarding his position on the popular vote, to wit: He believes that a vote is an abstracted, sublimated expression of the individual war-making power and, as such, the vote should not be granted to those unlikely to have the desire or ability to wage war. The issue his detractors have is one of how to properly gauge the true popular sen--"
"--Oh, they're just ContraHim. Ignore them. They're so full of hate."
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Do you think so, Doctor?
"The liberal news media are complicating our prosecution of the War on Unraped Girls."
That's kind of the point.
That's kind of the point.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
I have deer in my yard.
I live at the edge of town, on a ridge of about five acres. That ridge is situated among other topographical structures such that hunters don't find this area suitable for hunting. Point is, no one hunts in this area.
So I have wild turkeys and foxes and owls and peregrine falcons and deer on my property. It's like a game preserve on my land.
Last evening I was sitting on the back porch, in the old-person chair that was left here when I bought the house. The cloth strapping under the cushion has sagged, so sitting in this chair really means sitting on the wooden supports. I'm going to have to get a different chair.
One of the deer in the area is a young buck. I don't know much about deer, but I think he would be called a spikehorn. Not much in the horn department, but he's got some...
He walked across the backyard and stopped about twenty feet away. He looked at me. I said hi with a weird look in my eye, in my idiot-savant sort of way, and he flicked his tail and twitched his ears and ducked his head. He jumped around a little bit. He was looking for a friend and wanted to play. He obviously liked me.
So I have a new friend now.
So I have wild turkeys and foxes and owls and peregrine falcons and deer on my property. It's like a game preserve on my land.
Last evening I was sitting on the back porch, in the old-person chair that was left here when I bought the house. The cloth strapping under the cushion has sagged, so sitting in this chair really means sitting on the wooden supports. I'm going to have to get a different chair.
One of the deer in the area is a young buck. I don't know much about deer, but I think he would be called a spikehorn. Not much in the horn department, but he's got some...
He walked across the backyard and stopped about twenty feet away. He looked at me. I said hi with a weird look in my eye, in my idiot-savant sort of way, and he flicked his tail and twitched his ears and ducked his head. He jumped around a little bit. He was looking for a friend and wanted to play. He obviously liked me.
So I have a new friend now.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
cell phone
My cell phone got shut off again. And I have the money to turn it back on now. But I'm like fuck it... Why should I even get it running?
They listen to your phone calls. They read your email. I'm scared of talking to anyone or paying anybody a social call; who else is going to get in trouble for my incisive and sardonic wit?
And I'm sure my cellphone provider tripped over themselves to curry favor with the Communists by handing over tons of customers' call records. They probably even have a comfortable chair and headphones at the switching office for the convenience of the substance-eating government snoops.
So my cell company can fuck off too.
They listen to your phone calls. They read your email. I'm scared of talking to anyone or paying anybody a social call; who else is going to get in trouble for my incisive and sardonic wit?
And I'm sure my cellphone provider tripped over themselves to curry favor with the Communists by handing over tons of customers' call records. They probably even have a comfortable chair and headphones at the switching office for the convenience of the substance-eating government snoops.
So my cell company can fuck off too.
Transmission Now
I just realized something: You all had better start loving each other pretty damn quick, or this truly is the end of it.
You have to break the cycle of control --which has gotten _out_ of control, even by the estimation of those who had built the system-- or it will fly apart, completely destroying all of you.
You can't have government --at least not the way you have been taught to know it-- because the logical extension of that game algorithm is destruction of your planet.
And, thus, of course, you.
Your species is under attack. Your enemy cannot be seen by you. That's what makes it so dangerous.
More later.
You have to break the cycle of control --which has gotten _out_ of control, even by the estimation of those who had built the system-- or it will fly apart, completely destroying all of you.
You can't have government --at least not the way you have been taught to know it-- because the logical extension of that game algorithm is destruction of your planet.
And, thus, of course, you.
Your species is under attack. Your enemy cannot be seen by you. That's what makes it so dangerous.
More later.
Yahoo! Music: Building Steam With A Grain Of Salt by DJ Shadow
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I've decided that I really love this guy's music. It's great that he describes it as "coming through" him. This guy so gets it.
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Monday, July 03, 2006
"Have a happy Fourth!"
Yeah, I'll do that --if I can avoid getting pulled over for having a license plate light out and having some way-too-juiced-up cop demand that I submit to a breathalyzer. Heaven forbid that I should blow an oh-eight and get hauled off to jail and lose my job --all for driving at an impaired level that is still NASCAR compared to some half-blind retiree.
From the archives, a special Fourth of July version of "The Word of God"...
--------
I was going through a box of books the other day and found my Bible. A big one, like a foot tall by eight inches wide. A family Bible. I got it at Barnes and Noble a few years ago. It was on sale.
I kind of defaced it, but for a good reason: I painstakingly cut out six hundred pages' worth of profile of a Smith and Wesson Sigma forty caliber, so that the gun would hide nicely inside. (And no, not one of the sissy, post-ban ten-rounders. I mean a pre-ban, fifteen-round magazine with one in the chamber. Sixteen rounds of forty. Yeah, you forty-five guys may not care for a forty, but I've got six more
rounds than you do. To each his own.)
So anyhow, I did this for a reason. I kept it on the bookcase by the door when I lived in Orlando. Check this out:
[Knock knock.]
Chris: "Who's-ever there?"
Thug: "Department of Anti Not Niceness. Open up. We're here to put a bag over your head and ship you off to a con-, I mean, relocation camp, and to shove a banana up your ass. Bird flu is coming, don't you know."
Chris: "Just a moment, I'll get the--"
Thug: "No need, sir, we'll just break it down." [Door smashes in.]
Chris: "Oh my goodness! I tremble in fear of you! You used to be a harmless welfare recipient. But now that welfare-to-work program has made you a government employee with a gun. Good thinking!"
Thug: "Shut up and stick your head in this bag!"
Chris: "Oh, please, please, may I take my family Bible? To comfort me in my hour of need?"
Thug: "Oh, sure, why not. You silly religious types..."
[Chris grabs the Bible and, oops! it falls right open in his hands and tumbles to the ground. Look what remains!: A big, fat, fuckin gun in his hand.]
Chris: "Eat lead, Commie! [Blam!] You're a sorry excuse for an American! [Blam!] Where's your driver? Lemme plug him while I'm at it! Torch your car, too. Turn _you_ into the hunted! [Blam!] Don't forget: Freedom isn't free! [Blam!] Sometimes it means killing losers like you! [Blam! Blam blam!] _Now_ look!: Your head wound is ruining my berber! And now I have to repaint _again_!"
From the archives, a special Fourth of July version of "The Word of God"...
--------
I was going through a box of books the other day and found my Bible. A big one, like a foot tall by eight inches wide. A family Bible. I got it at Barnes and Noble a few years ago. It was on sale.
I kind of defaced it, but for a good reason: I painstakingly cut out six hundred pages' worth of profile of a Smith and Wesson Sigma forty caliber, so that the gun would hide nicely inside. (And no, not one of the sissy, post-ban ten-rounders. I mean a pre-ban, fifteen-round magazine with one in the chamber. Sixteen rounds of forty. Yeah, you forty-five guys may not care for a forty, but I've got six more
rounds than you do. To each his own.)
So anyhow, I did this for a reason. I kept it on the bookcase by the door when I lived in Orlando. Check this out:
[Knock knock.]
Chris: "Who's-ever there?"
Thug: "Department of Anti Not Niceness. Open up. We're here to put a bag over your head and ship you off to a con-, I mean, relocation camp, and to shove a banana up your ass. Bird flu is coming, don't you know."
Chris: "Just a moment, I'll get the--"
Thug: "No need, sir, we'll just break it down." [Door smashes in.]
Chris: "Oh my goodness! I tremble in fear of you! You used to be a harmless welfare recipient. But now that welfare-to-work program has made you a government employee with a gun. Good thinking!"
Thug: "Shut up and stick your head in this bag!"
Chris: "Oh, please, please, may I take my family Bible? To comfort me in my hour of need?"
Thug: "Oh, sure, why not. You silly religious types..."
[Chris grabs the Bible and, oops! it falls right open in his hands and tumbles to the ground. Look what remains!: A big, fat, fuckin gun in his hand.]
Chris: "Eat lead, Commie! [Blam!] You're a sorry excuse for an American! [Blam!] Where's your driver? Lemme plug him while I'm at it! Torch your car, too. Turn _you_ into the hunted! [Blam!] Don't forget: Freedom isn't free! [Blam!] Sometimes it means killing losers like you! [Blam! Blam blam!] _Now_ look!: Your head wound is ruining my berber! And now I have to repaint _again_!"
"Chris, why do you have to be so angry all the time?"
"It's completely unattractive, you know. You'll never find a date."
It's just that there's so very much to be so pissed off about.
I sometimes will force myself to watch TV, in the hope that I will somehow become well adjusted. And then I can have a date and go on double dates and laugh a carefree laugh instead of a sardonic one.
Me want mind control now.
It's just that there's so very much to be so pissed off about.
I sometimes will force myself to watch TV, in the hope that I will somehow become well adjusted. And then I can have a date and go on double dates and laugh a carefree laugh instead of a sardonic one.
Me want mind control now.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
A Demotion for Alberto
It doesn't happen often, but it seems I was wrong about something. I improperly tarred Chief Legal Sophist Alberto Gonzalez as the architect behind The Supreme Leader of Cucka Land's unitary executive theory. It was actually the brainchild of one John C. Yoo.
Allie --may I call you Allie, Allie?-- Allie just runs water. Good thing, too, because he certainly doesn't run a convincing press conference. I suppose the term "sophist" implies an ability to not look stupid. [Government plant: "Hey, guys, stop playing X-Box. Don't you want to stick it to the man? You know what you guys should do... We --I mean, you-- should blow something up! I'll order some fertilizer for you?... ... ...OK, then. We're all in agreement." That was a real coup against the Flying Car People, Allie. Have some self-respect. Your bosses are using your...inviting...mouth...]
I'm no Indian-giver; so although Mr. Gonzalez would be more properly known as Legal Lackey to the Stars or something, I will allow him to keep his more prestigious title.
And in an apology to Mr. Yoo, I hereby devise an even better appellation: Special Attache for Legal Legerdemain.
Sorry, Allie, I've got to take your three-card monty table away from you and give it to its rightful owner, Mr. Yoo.
And when the Citizens' Lawful Government Tribunals get underway, I'll send them to see the Special Attache... And we'll let you minister to our...needs. ...a service to which you are uniquely suited.
Allie --may I call you Allie, Allie?-- Allie just runs water. Good thing, too, because he certainly doesn't run a convincing press conference. I suppose the term "sophist" implies an ability to not look stupid. [Government plant: "Hey, guys, stop playing X-Box. Don't you want to stick it to the man? You know what you guys should do... We --I mean, you-- should blow something up! I'll order some fertilizer for you?... ... ...OK, then. We're all in agreement." That was a real coup against the Flying Car People, Allie. Have some self-respect. Your bosses are using your...inviting...mouth...]
I'm no Indian-giver; so although Mr. Gonzalez would be more properly known as Legal Lackey to the Stars or something, I will allow him to keep his more prestigious title.
And in an apology to Mr. Yoo, I hereby devise an even better appellation: Special Attache for Legal Legerdemain.
Sorry, Allie, I've got to take your three-card monty table away from you and give it to its rightful owner, Mr. Yoo.
And when the Citizens' Lawful Government Tribunals get underway, I'll send them to see the Special Attache... And we'll let you minister to our...needs. ...a service to which you are uniquely suited.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
False Flags
I find it highly unlikely that this young Israeli soldier by the name of Shalit was abducted by Palestinians. In the calculus of war, it makes no strategic sense. This appears to be a classic false-flag operation. If this kid was abducted at all, it was likely by Israelis or their Palestinian dupe-agents.
The pathos is now set. Israel gets to execute its show. "Look at our suffering! We're killing those Palestinians because of their affront to decency!"
The next phase of the Great Hahperdidah Wars is started. And it was started by Israel. Just so you know...
By deception do we wage war. You too, huh?
-----
And I find it unlikely that those two American soldiers were abducted and killed by "insurgents." Israel needed them dead for the same reason.
The Eye of Sauron has alighted upon you...
Like I said, it'll be fun watching the FakeState of Israel get erased. [While it is true that an "ancestral homeland" founded solely for the taking of others' property has no right to exist, the Palestinians must allow the Jewish settlers safe passage from that territory. Otherwise they will have no moral standing to reclaim that land.]
The pathos is now set. Israel gets to execute its show. "Look at our suffering! We're killing those Palestinians because of their affront to decency!"
The next phase of the Great Hahperdidah Wars is started. And it was started by Israel. Just so you know...
By deception do we wage war. You too, huh?
-----
And I find it unlikely that those two American soldiers were abducted and killed by "insurgents." Israel needed them dead for the same reason.
The Eye of Sauron has alighted upon you...
Like I said, it'll be fun watching the FakeState of Israel get erased. [While it is true that an "ancestral homeland" founded solely for the taking of others' property has no right to exist, the Palestinians must allow the Jewish settlers safe passage from that territory. Otherwise they will have no moral standing to reclaim that land.]
Chris King Pop Icon's Greatest Hits
This one from the "cocksucking and killing" line of jokes. (I maintain that the two essential elements of post-9/11 comedy are cocksucking and killing; they describe everything that's happening in the world.)
Originally delivered about six months ago:
------------
[Visualize me seated at a grand piano on stage, with patriotic bunting all 'round, me dressed with a bow tie, doing my political commentary.]
TV commercial opens with a voiceover: "You, too, can own this special collection of Chris King Pop Icon's Greatest Hits."
[Shot of me with a Donnie Darko look on my face, fists banging down on the keys in some discordant train wreck. The most perfect manifestation of collective American derangement, I sing:]
"George. Bush. sucks. cocks. and. takes-it in-the-ass!"
"I. am. in-sane; can't-get-down. with-your-bullshit!" [I grin at the camera with a "Mommy, mommy, look at me!" kind of expression on my face. I had long since lost the ability to get down with my host society's madness, so I took it up myself. "I can play the piano!"]
[Scene transitions to me at another performance. Still wearing the bow tie. Different shirt, though. Standing at the piano this time, my feet are dancing, playing is skilled and professional, some kind of ragtime number or whatever:]
"Camptown races sing that song. Doo dah, doo dah."
"I am so. gonna get killed, all the live-long day, hey!" [I hurry to the side of the piano and take a gracious bow as if I had just concluded an hour-long concerto. I smile triumphantly and wait patiently for applause which I will not get.]
[Transitions to another number, another performance, dark and foreboding notes, single stabbed notes that are allowed to hang in the air until they rot:]
"I. am. iron. man!"
"Bair, nair, nair, nair, nair,
dunna nunna nunna nunna nuh nuh nuh!"
"Born in a. mag-net-ic field! He is gon-na kick your ass-es!"
[Shot of a nonplussed audience. They smile nervously. Commercial ends with ordering information for this limited-time offer. Nineteen ninety-five, plus shipping and handling.]
Originally delivered about six months ago:
------------
[Visualize me seated at a grand piano on stage, with patriotic bunting all 'round, me dressed with a bow tie, doing my political commentary.]
TV commercial opens with a voiceover: "You, too, can own this special collection of Chris King Pop Icon's Greatest Hits."
[Shot of me with a Donnie Darko look on my face, fists banging down on the keys in some discordant train wreck. The most perfect manifestation of collective American derangement, I sing:]
"George. Bush. sucks. cocks. and. takes-it in-the-ass!"
"I. am. in-sane; can't-get-down. with-your-bullshit!" [I grin at the camera with a "Mommy, mommy, look at me!" kind of expression on my face. I had long since lost the ability to get down with my host society's madness, so I took it up myself. "I can play the piano!"]
[Scene transitions to me at another performance. Still wearing the bow tie. Different shirt, though. Standing at the piano this time, my feet are dancing, playing is skilled and professional, some kind of ragtime number or whatever:]
"Camptown races sing that song. Doo dah, doo dah."
"I am so. gonna get killed, all the live-long day, hey!" [I hurry to the side of the piano and take a gracious bow as if I had just concluded an hour-long concerto. I smile triumphantly and wait patiently for applause which I will not get.]
[Transitions to another number, another performance, dark and foreboding notes, single stabbed notes that are allowed to hang in the air until they rot:]
"I. am. iron. man!"
"Bair, nair, nair, nair, nair,
dunna nunna nunna nunna nuh nuh nuh!"
"Born in a. mag-net-ic field! He is gon-na kick your ass-es!"
[Shot of a nonplussed audience. They smile nervously. Commercial ends with ordering information for this limited-time offer. Nineteen ninety-five, plus shipping and handling.]
Friday, June 30, 2006
Chris, why do you do what you do?
I --like those who would enslave you-- am a fallen 4-space entity. The only way I can earn my ticket home is to defeat the HyperSmart. You don't deserve what they have in store for you.
I have no other motive. So don't think that I do.
I want to go home. I wouldn't be happy otherwise.
I have no other motive. So don't think that I do.
I want to go home. I wouldn't be happy otherwise.
Oopsie.
It's fun watching the federal legislature and judiciary make like they're relevant.
You can make noises with your mouth holes all you want. You can thrust your batons in the air as you parade around your respective chambers. It makes no difference.
Because you don't have the guns. And you've signed away your control over them.
Shhh, little ones. Go back to talking about video games. Pray tell: Whatever do you think?...
You can make noises with your mouth holes all you want. You can thrust your batons in the air as you parade around your respective chambers. It makes no difference.
Because you don't have the guns. And you've signed away your control over them.
Shhh, little ones. Go back to talking about video games. Pray tell: Whatever do you think?...
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
My Proper Name
When it comes time for my enemies to attempt to engage me, I would ask that I be referred to as "Chris King Pop Icon." I have spent a lot of time and effort legitimizing that name. And its selection was deliberate.
My enemies have no complaint with Chris King; he would have passed unnoticed, working as a cable man or as a gas station clerk. It is Chris King Pop Icon they have a problem with. And that is how I will be known.
My enemies have no complaint with Chris King; he would have passed unnoticed, working as a cable man or as a gas station clerk. It is Chris King Pop Icon they have a problem with. And that is how I will be known.
Yahoo! Music: Stem/Long Stem - Transmission 2 by DJ Shadow
Chris King Pop Icon (nowhere@ckpi.com) has sent you a page from the Yahoo! Music Engine. Stem/Long Stem - Transmission 2 by DJ Shadow
http://yme.music.yahoo.com/ymeNav/ymu/song/1238658
Personal message:
Use the Yahoo! Music Engine to discover and buy new music, listen to radio and more. Don't have the Yahoo! Music Engine? Get it Now. It's free. http://music.yahoo.com/musicengine
Why are you talking?
As you now likely understand, your society is under attack by those who employ government. Under the pretext of prosecuting a War on Terror, they have spared themselves the burden of public trials of their enemies; they reserve the right to arrest and detain whomever they wish, for as long as they like. The justice system in this country no longer exists. All trials are media showpieces. Evidence is not relevant.
It is a dire state of affairs when your society's defense attorneys are comedians.*
Look how far you've come... It's probably safe to take down the tattered American flag from your car antenna, sit down, and shut the fuck up.
Those of us who know better now have to clean this shithole out...so that your type will have something worth hooting and hollering about as you wave your ninety-nine-cent flag.
----------
*It is true that the heavy lifting is done by journalists in the modern media, and that your defense comedians take their cue from them. It is we who must popularize it by casting those truths in entertaining forms, however.
It is a dire state of affairs when your society's defense attorneys are comedians.*
Look how far you've come... It's probably safe to take down the tattered American flag from your car antenna, sit down, and shut the fuck up.
Those of us who know better now have to clean this shithole out...so that your type will have something worth hooting and hollering about as you wave your ninety-nine-cent flag.
----------
*It is true that the heavy lifting is done by journalists in the modern media, and that your defense comedians take their cue from them. It is we who must popularize it by casting those truths in entertaining forms, however.
Bar Joke
[I've decided that it's fun to trot out some old jokes. This one was originally delivered as part of my first text-based show, "One-Man Sleeper Cell." This show was delivered to a small audience in Orlando. I didn't have a blog then, so I sent all the material for this show to a contact at the Orlando Weekly. That show propagated outside that newsroom and went who-knows-how-far. We'll use this in the "Here I Am" show.]
There is the type of joke known as a "bar" joke. "Guy walks into a bar..." I never trafficked in them, but I understand it's a rite of passage, so here's my first stab at it:
Two niggers,... a kike and a fag walk into a bar. The bar is already populated with broads and spics, but they don't really figure into this joke.
The fag says, "Bartendress, I'd like a Cosmo, and my friends here--"
"Shut up, bitch," says a nigger, "Get on my dick! And you [waving at the ho behind the bar] get me a gin and juice."
"Now that's hardly any way to talk to the wait staff," tutors the kike. "I think--"
"Who gives a shit what you think, you hook-nosed Hebe," says the other nigger with his splayed-fingered, cross-bodied hand gesture, "You've always got your claws into everything. And you poisoned my crown air freshener. So shut the fuck up before I twist your balls off and shove 'em up your ass. With a nice new shiny penny!"
"Listen, you filthy niggers," interjects the fag, "can we at least get our drinks?"
"I hate fags," a background broad whispers. "Yeah? I hate kikes _and_ niggers. It's true about the air freshener, you know," replies the spic.
Joke ends unceremoniously to dead air. Ta Da! A nonplussed audience smiles nervously...
There is the type of joke known as a "bar" joke. "Guy walks into a bar..." I never trafficked in them, but I understand it's a rite of passage, so here's my first stab at it:
Two niggers,... a kike and a fag walk into a bar. The bar is already populated with broads and spics, but they don't really figure into this joke.
The fag says, "Bartendress, I'd like a Cosmo, and my friends here--"
"Shut up, bitch," says a nigger, "Get on my dick! And you [waving at the ho behind the bar] get me a gin and juice."
"Now that's hardly any way to talk to the wait staff," tutors the kike. "I think--"
"Who gives a shit what you think, you hook-nosed Hebe," says the other nigger with his splayed-fingered, cross-bodied hand gesture, "You've always got your claws into everything. And you poisoned my crown air freshener. So shut the fuck up before I twist your balls off and shove 'em up your ass. With a nice new shiny penny!"
"Listen, you filthy niggers," interjects the fag, "can we at least get our drinks?"
"I hate fags," a background broad whispers. "Yeah? I hate kikes _and_ niggers. It's true about the air freshener, you know," replies the spic.
Joke ends unceremoniously to dead air. Ta Da! A nonplussed audience smiles nervously...
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Turf War
[This isn't quite timely anymore, but I think it's a decent proto-joke that deserves to be seen.]
So Bill Kristol thinks that George Bush would make a good "Supreme Leader." Of what? Cucka Land?
Umm, hell-o?... I'm the Supreme Ruler of 3-Space? There's going to be a conflict here...
So Bill Kristol thinks that George Bush would make a good "Supreme Leader." Of what? Cucka Land?
Umm, hell-o?... I'm the Supreme Ruler of 3-Space? There's going to be a conflict here...
New York Times versus the HyperSmart
So the New York Times has struck a nerve...
George Bush was on TV, moving his mouth hole in denunciation of this affront to "National Security" and wags on FreeRepublic.com are calling for the arrest and deaths of Times editors and writers.
Come with me, young ones... Allow me to show you an underworld, your knowledge of which comes only from stories...
There exists an enormous underground, one that lies beneath that of respectable society. As members of the above-world, you are not allowed to go there --lest you lose your credentials to move in polite society. But because I am not respectable --as I have long labored to convince you-- I travel there routinely.
It's much like an underground rave. Everyone's on something. The music is loud and the pulsating, spinning spotlights are blinding. Everyone's copping a feel from everyone else. In the tortured or beatific faces of those who travel in this forbidden world, you will see both God and the devil. And there's always drugs to help you along. You can have a great time there, but be careful what you ingest...
Oh, you can buy psychic pills and free energy machines and UFOs and the reptile people and massive conspiracies and time travel and remote viewing and innumerable other forms of mind-blowing information. Some will lead to epiphanies, allowing you to glimpse the very face of God. Others are designed to destroy you with their falsity. I've tried many, but not all; I haven't had time yet. And I won't tell you which are true and which are lies. Let's just say I'm lucky to be alive. So take my advice...
You may regard the human population of the earth to be always threatened by enslavement by the HyperSmart. The HyperSmart use government to do this. They use their sophistic arguments to convince you to abandon a minimalist form of government. They then convince you to build armies and a big government and give them powers to eavesdrop on your communications and to monitor your movements of money and to ship you off to be tortured and killed. By themselves, they are absolutely powerless. You give them all the power they have.
Their agents walk among you. They speak like they are members of your tribe, but they are not. They are paid shills of the HyperSmart. They sometimes occupy positions in newspapers, to the detriment of their host. The Times has had its share of these. And television is full of them. They attempt to guide popular opinion by issuing what appear to be "organic" sentiments. They are not organic; they were not generated within the tribe. They come from without --from their HyperSmart employers.
You won't ever identify the HyperSmart. So don't bother. It's a fool's errand. So don't you ever think that you can have your big government and have it remain safe in your own hands.
The website known as freerepublic.com is populated by agents of the HyperSmart. Their job is to churn out what purports to be organic sentiment. It's not. So don't listen to them. And for all you know, the comments on that site could be posted by the same twenty-year-old know-nothing housed in a small room at the NSA.
Why, even little old me was once smeared on freerepublic, back when I did my pop-up war video. The comments are predictable in their attempts to portray me as "liberal." Have I told you that Democrats are dipshits? Or that Republicans are retards? I advocate a return to the Ten Commandments, for chrissake; I out right-wing the right wing. Come on, guys; come up with a better smear. Don't I warrant it? This is a slap in the face:
http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/fr/1143601/posts
Let me tell you how the HyperSmart and their shills operate. Because what they're up to is no good, they cannot function in the light of day. They are completely powerless when exposed as liars. You must call attention to yourself, and then engage them... They can't fight a clean fight. Do not debate the merits of the lies. Expose them as the lies that they are.
There may be some journalistic spirit in those papers yet. But you don't travel in that underworld. That's where I come in. I'm here to tell you what you're truly up against.
So if you choose to remain in the ring, you had better make lots of noise, call the tribe's attention to yourselves, and then set about disarming those shills. It's as easy as that. But if you don't fully commit... if you don't kick the door down and come out guns a-blazin, destroying every lie in sight... you're dead meat. And you'll be dead meat because the tribe will not be aware that they're being lied to...because you didn't have the balls to call a lie a lie.
Forgive the presumption, but I've been studying the HyperSmart for some time now. I'll whisper in your ear now and again. I'm morally obligated to; you are about to enter a very dangerous underworld. You will want a guide...
And you... Have I told you that I'm coming for you?
George Bush was on TV, moving his mouth hole in denunciation of this affront to "National Security" and wags on FreeRepublic.com are calling for the arrest and deaths of Times editors and writers.
Come with me, young ones... Allow me to show you an underworld, your knowledge of which comes only from stories...
There exists an enormous underground, one that lies beneath that of respectable society. As members of the above-world, you are not allowed to go there --lest you lose your credentials to move in polite society. But because I am not respectable --as I have long labored to convince you-- I travel there routinely.
It's much like an underground rave. Everyone's on something. The music is loud and the pulsating, spinning spotlights are blinding. Everyone's copping a feel from everyone else. In the tortured or beatific faces of those who travel in this forbidden world, you will see both God and the devil. And there's always drugs to help you along. You can have a great time there, but be careful what you ingest...
Oh, you can buy psychic pills and free energy machines and UFOs and the reptile people and massive conspiracies and time travel and remote viewing and innumerable other forms of mind-blowing information. Some will lead to epiphanies, allowing you to glimpse the very face of God. Others are designed to destroy you with their falsity. I've tried many, but not all; I haven't had time yet. And I won't tell you which are true and which are lies. Let's just say I'm lucky to be alive. So take my advice...
You may regard the human population of the earth to be always threatened by enslavement by the HyperSmart. The HyperSmart use government to do this. They use their sophistic arguments to convince you to abandon a minimalist form of government. They then convince you to build armies and a big government and give them powers to eavesdrop on your communications and to monitor your movements of money and to ship you off to be tortured and killed. By themselves, they are absolutely powerless. You give them all the power they have.
Their agents walk among you. They speak like they are members of your tribe, but they are not. They are paid shills of the HyperSmart. They sometimes occupy positions in newspapers, to the detriment of their host. The Times has had its share of these. And television is full of them. They attempt to guide popular opinion by issuing what appear to be "organic" sentiments. They are not organic; they were not generated within the tribe. They come from without --from their HyperSmart employers.
You won't ever identify the HyperSmart. So don't bother. It's a fool's errand. So don't you ever think that you can have your big government and have it remain safe in your own hands.
The website known as freerepublic.com is populated by agents of the HyperSmart. Their job is to churn out what purports to be organic sentiment. It's not. So don't listen to them. And for all you know, the comments on that site could be posted by the same twenty-year-old know-nothing housed in a small room at the NSA.
Why, even little old me was once smeared on freerepublic, back when I did my pop-up war video. The comments are predictable in their attempts to portray me as "liberal." Have I told you that Democrats are dipshits? Or that Republicans are retards? I advocate a return to the Ten Commandments, for chrissake; I out right-wing the right wing. Come on, guys; come up with a better smear. Don't I warrant it? This is a slap in the face:
http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/fr/1143601/posts
Let me tell you how the HyperSmart and their shills operate. Because what they're up to is no good, they cannot function in the light of day. They are completely powerless when exposed as liars. You must call attention to yourself, and then engage them... They can't fight a clean fight. Do not debate the merits of the lies. Expose them as the lies that they are.
There may be some journalistic spirit in those papers yet. But you don't travel in that underworld. That's where I come in. I'm here to tell you what you're truly up against.
So if you choose to remain in the ring, you had better make lots of noise, call the tribe's attention to yourselves, and then set about disarming those shills. It's as easy as that. But if you don't fully commit... if you don't kick the door down and come out guns a-blazin, destroying every lie in sight... you're dead meat. And you'll be dead meat because the tribe will not be aware that they're being lied to...because you didn't have the balls to call a lie a lie.
Forgive the presumption, but I've been studying the HyperSmart for some time now. I'll whisper in your ear now and again. I'm morally obligated to; you are about to enter a very dangerous underworld. You will want a guide...
And you... Have I told you that I'm coming for you?
Monday, June 26, 2006
What's with all the N-words?!
[Originally written about six months ago, when some television watchers in my audience started to cluck at my use of the word 'nigger.' This bears trotting out again.]
My apartment building in Harlem was of post-war construction, brick, six floors. The lobby led to an elevator, or to stairways at either side, left and right. The rickety economics of the time did allow a few architectural flourishes: The balusters of the railings may have been a bit ornate, and the floor was nicely tiled.
In the winter, I would hang out in the stairwell and smoke and pretend I was dangerous. (My roommate didn't let me smoke in the apartment. And I certainly wasn't going outside. Inconsiderate to smoke in the stairwell? Maybe... but the odor was nothing compared to the fish heads and curry that normally polluted the place.)
When it was bitterly cold, sometimes a homeless person would take refuge in the stairwell. If they didn't cause a problem, I think no one really minded.
I came home one evening to find a guy seated on the lower step of the stairwell of the third floor. "Oh, ah...I'm just waitin for Jimmy," he explained. No he wasn't. There was no Jimmy lived there. I knew most everyone in the building. He just wanted to hang out for a while. And I didn't have a problem with that, as it was about ten below zero outside.
(You need to understand stairwells: The building had six floors, each of which was a long hallway. Apartments on either side of the hallway. Stairs at each end. To ascend a floor, you went up one stairway with a dozen steps, stopped, turned left on this four foot-wide landing, and went up another dozen steps.)
This guy was hanging out on the bottom step --and not the more secluded landing-- for a reason: If someone wanted to jump you, they could take you from above while their buddy came at you from below. But if you stayed on the bottom step, you had three possible avenues of escape: Up the stairs, down the stairs, or down the hallway. This guy was no dummy.
"Hey, no problem," I said. "Take it easy." I went into my apartment.
It wasn't long before I would want a cigarette. I came out of my door with a pack of cigarettes and two beers. I walked down the hallway toward this guy. He eyed me, not knowing what I was up to. Most white dudes would have gone to the other stairwell. 'What's this dude want with me?' [Threat assessment begins.]
"Aw, man, I need a cigarette," I lamented. "And I thought you might enjoy a beer." He seemed surprised, but he took it anyway. Already we had something in common: Never turn down a free beer, especially a quality Czech model. (Not that I think he knew or cared.)
He still eyed me suspiciously because, as he had learned, and as I would come to know, white people lie. They're always up to something.
Oh, I was up to something all right: I wanted the company. I fancied myself the loneliest person in the world. This was a comfortable, self-indulgent pastime of mine. He soon understood that conversation was all I wanted, and he relaxed.
He told me of how he had been in the Army, and then later tried to make it as a civilian, and had been busted with some coke, and went to jail. I'm guessing he couldn't afford the competent representation that would have gotten your typical snot-nosed yuppie out of jail in six hours.
And now that he had a prison record, he couldn't work. He couldn't work because your litigious society has made it an economically unappealing prospect for an employer to hire him. He's got a record... You people file lawsuits like they're some novel invention... And so the employer doesn't want the trouble. "Your employee spat in my latte! He's an ex-felon, and you should have known this! I'm suing you because he's wounded my latte-drinking ability for the rest of my life! How will I ever pass the time with my mall-shopping friends?!"
You might say: "Hmm! He shouldn't have been doing coke in the first place. Serves him right." Yeah, you're right... We should all pay for a prescription first... Gotta go through the gatekeepers, you know... Can't cheat someone out of their cut...
.
"Johnny," says Mommy as she coaxes a dollop of potatoes from the serving spoon, "I don't want you listening to that Chris King Pop Icon. He is...profane...and he...uses the n-word. I understand what he's trying to say, but I don't like the n-word. Isn't that right, Honey?"
"That's right, Darling," says Honey, not really sure what his wife just asked him. He's watching television. He's watching the news. Something about mandatory minimum jail sentences.
Mommy/Darling takes note of the news, too. She starts muttering... "Put those fuckin niggers in jail where they belong, those fuckin animals." A niggerface appears on the TV, shackles on his hands. She springs to her feet as if she's going to hurl venom at her most hated professional wrestling star. She spills the gravy. "Kill that fuckin nigger! Fuckin apes! One of them spit in my latte!"
.
Yours is, I would argue, at once the most morally bankrupt and the least intellectually discerning society the world has ever known. Couple this with your economic and military might and your desire to tutor the world in matters of rightness, and you have the most farcical display ever, were it not so dangerous.
You talk a good game, I'll give you that.
Your society will destroy me. I get that part already. I've known that from the moment I first took to a stage, intent to do the material that I felt needed doing. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I would rather be destroyed by your degenerate society than to be judged complicit with it. So I can't lose...
And know that the Future People and I are laughing our asses off at you. So thanks for the material... You make this pretty easy.
My apartment building in Harlem was of post-war construction, brick, six floors. The lobby led to an elevator, or to stairways at either side, left and right. The rickety economics of the time did allow a few architectural flourishes: The balusters of the railings may have been a bit ornate, and the floor was nicely tiled.
In the winter, I would hang out in the stairwell and smoke and pretend I was dangerous. (My roommate didn't let me smoke in the apartment. And I certainly wasn't going outside. Inconsiderate to smoke in the stairwell? Maybe... but the odor was nothing compared to the fish heads and curry that normally polluted the place.)
When it was bitterly cold, sometimes a homeless person would take refuge in the stairwell. If they didn't cause a problem, I think no one really minded.
I came home one evening to find a guy seated on the lower step of the stairwell of the third floor. "Oh, ah...I'm just waitin for Jimmy," he explained. No he wasn't. There was no Jimmy lived there. I knew most everyone in the building. He just wanted to hang out for a while. And I didn't have a problem with that, as it was about ten below zero outside.
(You need to understand stairwells: The building had six floors, each of which was a long hallway. Apartments on either side of the hallway. Stairs at each end. To ascend a floor, you went up one stairway with a dozen steps, stopped, turned left on this four foot-wide landing, and went up another dozen steps.)
This guy was hanging out on the bottom step --and not the more secluded landing-- for a reason: If someone wanted to jump you, they could take you from above while their buddy came at you from below. But if you stayed on the bottom step, you had three possible avenues of escape: Up the stairs, down the stairs, or down the hallway. This guy was no dummy.
"Hey, no problem," I said. "Take it easy." I went into my apartment.
It wasn't long before I would want a cigarette. I came out of my door with a pack of cigarettes and two beers. I walked down the hallway toward this guy. He eyed me, not knowing what I was up to. Most white dudes would have gone to the other stairwell. 'What's this dude want with me?' [Threat assessment begins.]
"Aw, man, I need a cigarette," I lamented. "And I thought you might enjoy a beer." He seemed surprised, but he took it anyway. Already we had something in common: Never turn down a free beer, especially a quality Czech model. (Not that I think he knew or cared.)
He still eyed me suspiciously because, as he had learned, and as I would come to know, white people lie. They're always up to something.
Oh, I was up to something all right: I wanted the company. I fancied myself the loneliest person in the world. This was a comfortable, self-indulgent pastime of mine. He soon understood that conversation was all I wanted, and he relaxed.
He told me of how he had been in the Army, and then later tried to make it as a civilian, and had been busted with some coke, and went to jail. I'm guessing he couldn't afford the competent representation that would have gotten your typical snot-nosed yuppie out of jail in six hours.
And now that he had a prison record, he couldn't work. He couldn't work because your litigious society has made it an economically unappealing prospect for an employer to hire him. He's got a record... You people file lawsuits like they're some novel invention... And so the employer doesn't want the trouble. "Your employee spat in my latte! He's an ex-felon, and you should have known this! I'm suing you because he's wounded my latte-drinking ability for the rest of my life! How will I ever pass the time with my mall-shopping friends?!"
You might say: "Hmm! He shouldn't have been doing coke in the first place. Serves him right." Yeah, you're right... We should all pay for a prescription first... Gotta go through the gatekeepers, you know... Can't cheat someone out of their cut...
.
"Johnny," says Mommy as she coaxes a dollop of potatoes from the serving spoon, "I don't want you listening to that Chris King Pop Icon. He is...profane...and he...uses the n-word. I understand what he's trying to say, but I don't like the n-word. Isn't that right, Honey?"
"That's right, Darling," says Honey, not really sure what his wife just asked him. He's watching television. He's watching the news. Something about mandatory minimum jail sentences.
Mommy/Darling takes note of the news, too. She starts muttering... "Put those fuckin niggers in jail where they belong, those fuckin animals." A niggerface appears on the TV, shackles on his hands. She springs to her feet as if she's going to hurl venom at her most hated professional wrestling star. She spills the gravy. "Kill that fuckin nigger! Fuckin apes! One of them spit in my latte!"
.
Yours is, I would argue, at once the most morally bankrupt and the least intellectually discerning society the world has ever known. Couple this with your economic and military might and your desire to tutor the world in matters of rightness, and you have the most farcical display ever, were it not so dangerous.
You talk a good game, I'll give you that.
Your society will destroy me. I get that part already. I've known that from the moment I first took to a stage, intent to do the material that I felt needed doing. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I would rather be destroyed by your degenerate society than to be judged complicit with it. So I can't lose...
And know that the Future People and I are laughing our asses off at you. So thanks for the material... You make this pretty easy.
"Chris, why so much about the Jews? What's your problem?"
My problem is AssBananas and EarIntestines.
You can't understand the Great Hahperdidah Wars without understanding Israel and its role as a geostrategic stronghold. You can't understand Israel without understanding complex Jewish politics. And you'll never decipher those without penetrating their product positioning.
I'm dismantling their marketing --because I have a major problem with AssBananas and EarIntestines. If people burst into tears because of that, so be it. Once they realize no one's paying attention, they'll dry up quickly enough... So no harm done...
You can't understand the Great Hahperdidah Wars without understanding Israel and its role as a geostrategic stronghold. You can't understand Israel without understanding complex Jewish politics. And you'll never decipher those without penetrating their product positioning.
I'm dismantling their marketing --because I have a major problem with AssBananas and EarIntestines. If people burst into tears because of that, so be it. Once they realize no one's paying attention, they'll dry up quickly enough... So no harm done...
FoxNews = JewNews = CuckaNews = LieNews
So ratings are down twenty-two percent for Fox News in their core demographic, 25 to 54 year-old dirty-footed mouthbreathers. Maybe their core demographic's scratch-off lottery ticket winnings are down and they got the cable shut off.
Maybe AssBananas will be down twenty-two percent next quarter.
When will those Jews reclaim their dignity and jettison that whole lying bunch? Fox has succeeded in making Jew = Cucka. They don't even know who their true enemy is...
Maybe AssBananas will be down twenty-two percent next quarter.
When will those Jews reclaim their dignity and jettison that whole lying bunch? Fox has succeeded in making Jew = Cucka. They don't even know who their true enemy is...
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Chris King Pop Icon Therapy!
[I originally wrote this during the last Christmas season, during a spate of public sobbing. Here is a retooled version of "Chris King Pop Icon Therapy!"]
I was painting the hallway of my Craftsman-style Vermont home the other day. A rich, creamy brown, called "Sturdy Table." It layers nicely on top of the mossy "Gravel" of the living room, smoothly transitioning by way of a sophisticated, blackish-brown "Wendigo" trim. I'm as pleased with the names as I am the colors. A modern color scheme combined with a wood stove... Think Westin Grand Bohemian meets the Clampetts.
I had the television on in the background, tuned to Doctor Phil. I like to compare notes on our respective brands of feel-good therapy. I heard someone sobbing. I put down my brush and stood in front of the TV. Our injured party told of having been the victim of some monstrous insensitivity.
I wanted to help. "Is it okay if I handle this one?" Doctor Phil nodded his solemn consent, so I took my place on the couch and patted the hand of this poor, victimized man. "In your own words, tell me what happened."
"I was driving by the town commons and I was... [hitch in his voice] I was assaulted by... [quivering chin and a courageous, deep breath to pronounce this most unspeakable affront:] by a nativity scene!" [Gasps from studio audience. Camera breaks to shocked faces. Audience members look about for confirmation that what they just heard was just said.]
"Settle down, everybody, let's let him continue. What happened next?"
"Well I had my Jew attorney friends file a lawsuit against the town. Everyone knows those small-town rubes can't afford lawsuits over stuff like this."
Someone from the audience yells, "Just like a good little bitch!" At which Dr. Phil sprang up and strode to the edge of the stage, "Shut the fuck up, you hear me? This is our show, not yours. Now shut it! [Phil's pinkie and index fingers directed at the offending loudmouth:] You mess with the bull, you get the horns." He let it sink in, then took his seat.
I continued: "Do you think it's right to demand your way all the time?"
"Well, it's only because everyone hates us."
"We're gettin there," Phil muttered. If there's one point where we differ, it's on his confrontational style.
"We tried to shoehorn some anti-hate legislation into a school-lunch program bill or something so that no one could ridicule us anymore. We even included the niggers and fags in it because we're generous. We just want to be treated well."
I allowed myself this: "We haven't exterminated you yet." The blood drained from his face.
"Though maybe we should," affirmed Phil as he studiously plucked a piece of lint from his pants leg.
"Maybe we goyim should drown you like rats," I volleyed back.
"You _are_ more trouble than you're worth." Phil let the lint fall to the floor and sniffed.
Our therapy client's eyes had been darting back and forth between Phil and me, incredulous that this tag-team sucker punch was happening. "See? You do hate us."
Poor thing. He'll need my help. "Not really. That would take a lot of energy, and most people have far better things to do with their time. Those ideas have been placed into your head by those who seek to control your economic and political capital. You don't even know who your true enemy is." I waved my right hand at his head. His eyes took on a distinctly different look.
He had come out of his trance. "What- what just happened?"
"What just happened, everyone? [Snap and point at studio audience] He just got some..."
"Chris. King. Pop. Icon therapy! Whoo!" [Camera pans over the audience as they reply and cheer.]
"That's right. How do you feel?"
He seemed stunned. "I- I don't know."
I don't imagine you do... "But remember, we say these things because we love you. Otherwise we wouldn't expend the effort. Isn't that right, Phil?"
"Sure thing, Chris. And, as always, thanks for pinch-hitting for us."
"You got it, Phil." [Snap. Point.]
I dabbed my brush into the roller tray and smiled. One more soul saved...
I was painting the hallway of my Craftsman-style Vermont home the other day. A rich, creamy brown, called "Sturdy Table." It layers nicely on top of the mossy "Gravel" of the living room, smoothly transitioning by way of a sophisticated, blackish-brown "Wendigo" trim. I'm as pleased with the names as I am the colors. A modern color scheme combined with a wood stove... Think Westin Grand Bohemian meets the Clampetts.
I had the television on in the background, tuned to Doctor Phil. I like to compare notes on our respective brands of feel-good therapy. I heard someone sobbing. I put down my brush and stood in front of the TV. Our injured party told of having been the victim of some monstrous insensitivity.
I wanted to help. "Is it okay if I handle this one?" Doctor Phil nodded his solemn consent, so I took my place on the couch and patted the hand of this poor, victimized man. "In your own words, tell me what happened."
"I was driving by the town commons and I was... [hitch in his voice] I was assaulted by... [quivering chin and a courageous, deep breath to pronounce this most unspeakable affront:] by a nativity scene!" [Gasps from studio audience. Camera breaks to shocked faces. Audience members look about for confirmation that what they just heard was just said.]
"Settle down, everybody, let's let him continue. What happened next?"
"Well I had my Jew attorney friends file a lawsuit against the town. Everyone knows those small-town rubes can't afford lawsuits over stuff like this."
Someone from the audience yells, "Just like a good little bitch!" At which Dr. Phil sprang up and strode to the edge of the stage, "Shut the fuck up, you hear me? This is our show, not yours. Now shut it! [Phil's pinkie and index fingers directed at the offending loudmouth:] You mess with the bull, you get the horns." He let it sink in, then took his seat.
I continued: "Do you think it's right to demand your way all the time?"
"Well, it's only because everyone hates us."
"We're gettin there," Phil muttered. If there's one point where we differ, it's on his confrontational style.
"We tried to shoehorn some anti-hate legislation into a school-lunch program bill or something so that no one could ridicule us anymore. We even included the niggers and fags in it because we're generous. We just want to be treated well."
I allowed myself this: "We haven't exterminated you yet." The blood drained from his face.
"Though maybe we should," affirmed Phil as he studiously plucked a piece of lint from his pants leg.
"Maybe we goyim should drown you like rats," I volleyed back.
"You _are_ more trouble than you're worth." Phil let the lint fall to the floor and sniffed.
Our therapy client's eyes had been darting back and forth between Phil and me, incredulous that this tag-team sucker punch was happening. "See? You do hate us."
Poor thing. He'll need my help. "Not really. That would take a lot of energy, and most people have far better things to do with their time. Those ideas have been placed into your head by those who seek to control your economic and political capital. You don't even know who your true enemy is." I waved my right hand at his head. His eyes took on a distinctly different look.
He had come out of his trance. "What- what just happened?"
"What just happened, everyone? [Snap and point at studio audience] He just got some..."
"Chris. King. Pop. Icon therapy! Whoo!" [Camera pans over the audience as they reply and cheer.]
"That's right. How do you feel?"
He seemed stunned. "I- I don't know."
I don't imagine you do... "But remember, we say these things because we love you. Otherwise we wouldn't expend the effort. Isn't that right, Phil?"
"Sure thing, Chris. And, as always, thanks for pinch-hitting for us."
"You got it, Phil." [Snap. Point.]
I dabbed my brush into the roller tray and smiled. One more soul saved...
That Holocaust(R) Bit
[Oh, hey... I didn't hear you come in. I was in the kitchen, whipping up a shit sandwich for those teary-eyed, do-what-we-say-or-we'll-smear-you Jews.
Hmmm... Try this hors d'oeuvre in the meantime... I wrote this on the occasion of receiving a tearful plea that I genuflect at the local Holocaust museum.]
A retooled version of "That Holocaust(R) Bit":
Periodically, some Jew on TV will bellyache (because you know it's something...) they'll bellyache about the enormity of the callousness of humanity that resulted in the horrific and palpably lamentable deaths of six million Jews! "And by the way, can we have these mineral rights, er, I mean, our ancestral homeland over here..."
By any objective count, governments worldwide killed some 100 million civilians during the 20th century.
What's your marketing? Six? Tell you what... I'll go four better... Let's make it ten. Let's say ten million were killed in this monstrous event known as "The Holocaust(R)" (As if the other ninety million poor bastards don't count...)
My question to you is this: What makes you so fuckin special? My answer: Want my pity? Turn off the waterworks and take a number. There's ninety million people in line ahead of you.
I don't give a shit about your Holocaust(R). Got it?
Ouch. Go home and lick your wounds. And then think up new marketing.
-------
[Oh, you've got my pity all right...if you can pull this number off with a straight face....tip toeing over the other ninety million corpses... Lookin good... "Bang the drum slowly! Look at our suffering! Trot out those corpses, their memories be damned!"
I rather liked this joke. Five minutes' work destroyed sixty years' worth of product positioning. Oopsie.
Jokes are forever. Enjoy it...]
Hmmm... Try this hors d'oeuvre in the meantime... I wrote this on the occasion of receiving a tearful plea that I genuflect at the local Holocaust museum.]
A retooled version of "That Holocaust(R) Bit":
Periodically, some Jew on TV will bellyache (because you know it's something...) they'll bellyache about the enormity of the callousness of humanity that resulted in the horrific and palpably lamentable deaths of six million Jews! "And by the way, can we have these mineral rights, er, I mean, our ancestral homeland over here..."
By any objective count, governments worldwide killed some 100 million civilians during the 20th century.
What's your marketing? Six? Tell you what... I'll go four better... Let's make it ten. Let's say ten million were killed in this monstrous event known as "The Holocaust(R)" (As if the other ninety million poor bastards don't count...)
My question to you is this: What makes you so fuckin special? My answer: Want my pity? Turn off the waterworks and take a number. There's ninety million people in line ahead of you.
I don't give a shit about your Holocaust(R). Got it?
Ouch. Go home and lick your wounds. And then think up new marketing.
-------
[Oh, you've got my pity all right...if you can pull this number off with a straight face....tip toeing over the other ninety million corpses... Lookin good... "Bang the drum slowly! Look at our suffering! Trot out those corpses, their memories be damned!"
I rather liked this joke. Five minutes' work destroyed sixty years' worth of product positioning. Oopsie.
Jokes are forever. Enjoy it...]
New York Times
OK. The New York Times runs a great story about that banking surveillance program run in Belgium as part of the War Against the Flying Car People. Dick Cheney moans that it places American "national security" at risk. Salesmen for the war profiteers try to make like they're comedians or something (sheesh) and try to make fun of the Times. Sophists urge that the Times be burnt to the ground for treason.
I enjoy reading the Times each Sunday. I take one off the rack at the gas station during my shift and read most of the articles. It's a good read. I am particular about replacing the sections so that it does not look like I am guilty of theft of service, and I place it back on the rack. And then I read In Touch Weekly to see what the stars are up to.
You've got a good feel for this news thing. But as a man who suffers from Cuckoo-Head Conspiracy Man Syndrome, I feel qualified to inform you of what you are up against.
Here is what has happened --regardless of whether you consider these points to be respectable topics of conversation. (No one has to know that we had this chat.)
1. People who you may safely regard as communists have stolen your government. They employ low-level functionaries to man positions in it, up to and including the President. This is not what is known as "lawful government." That entity no longer exists.
2. 9-11 was an inside job. This is beyond reasoned dispute, and is proven by the simple use of a three-dollar calculator in comparing the speed of a "pancake" collapse with the speed of a collapse of a controlled demolition. It's pretty simple, really. This attack was likely carried out by intelligence agencies and rogue elements of the US and Israeli militaries. The YuckyMen had nothing to do with it. The YuckyMen's sole offense was possessing something that a sophisticated band of thugs wanted.
3. The executive branch of what purports to be the United States Government is preparing to declare martial law. And guess who they've got AssBananas waiting for...
As long as you operate within the fake "terrorism" paradigm, it will be supremely easy to paint you as unpatriotic. You cannot run stories piecemeal. You have to come right out of the gate, guns a-blazin' and completely destroy the entire set of lies.
Yup. You'll lose your jobs alright. And you'll lose advertisers. And you may even get killed. But hey: That's what journalism is all about. It's a bracing feeling, really.
You are about to learn what journalism is...if you have the stomach for it.
As I've said before: If you do not live each and every day in fear of your very life, then you are not doing what is known as "news."
I enjoy reading the Times each Sunday. I take one off the rack at the gas station during my shift and read most of the articles. It's a good read. I am particular about replacing the sections so that it does not look like I am guilty of theft of service, and I place it back on the rack. And then I read In Touch Weekly to see what the stars are up to.
You've got a good feel for this news thing. But as a man who suffers from Cuckoo-Head Conspiracy Man Syndrome, I feel qualified to inform you of what you are up against.
Here is what has happened --regardless of whether you consider these points to be respectable topics of conversation. (No one has to know that we had this chat.)
1. People who you may safely regard as communists have stolen your government. They employ low-level functionaries to man positions in it, up to and including the President. This is not what is known as "lawful government." That entity no longer exists.
2. 9-11 was an inside job. This is beyond reasoned dispute, and is proven by the simple use of a three-dollar calculator in comparing the speed of a "pancake" collapse with the speed of a collapse of a controlled demolition. It's pretty simple, really. This attack was likely carried out by intelligence agencies and rogue elements of the US and Israeli militaries. The YuckyMen had nothing to do with it. The YuckyMen's sole offense was possessing something that a sophisticated band of thugs wanted.
3. The executive branch of what purports to be the United States Government is preparing to declare martial law. And guess who they've got AssBananas waiting for...
As long as you operate within the fake "terrorism" paradigm, it will be supremely easy to paint you as unpatriotic. You cannot run stories piecemeal. You have to come right out of the gate, guns a-blazin' and completely destroy the entire set of lies.
Yup. You'll lose your jobs alright. And you'll lose advertisers. And you may even get killed. But hey: That's what journalism is all about. It's a bracing feeling, really.
You are about to learn what journalism is...if you have the stomach for it.
As I've said before: If you do not live each and every day in fear of your very life, then you are not doing what is known as "news."
Here, watch this crap.
I laughed at seeing one wit call soccer very "Seinfeldian," in that it is a game about nothing.
Most matches end in ties, or so I understand. The players run up and down the field and fans yell like idiots at this nothingness. I was embarassed to see a photo of some bare-chested, fat American oaf in the stands with a flag painted on his face. Have a little self-respect...
I have long maintained that the world's aspiring overlords promote the game to Americans so that we could join the rest of the world in this wheel-spinning, zero-sum time-waster...instead of killing aspiring overlords.
Now that would be a sport worth watching...and uniquely American...
Most matches end in ties, or so I understand. The players run up and down the field and fans yell like idiots at this nothingness. I was embarassed to see a photo of some bare-chested, fat American oaf in the stands with a flag painted on his face. Have a little self-respect...
I have long maintained that the world's aspiring overlords promote the game to Americans so that we could join the rest of the world in this wheel-spinning, zero-sum time-waster...instead of killing aspiring overlords.
Now that would be a sport worth watching...and uniquely American...
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