Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Disbursement

Some dude said:
It all comes down to the business model. Any man with the necessary talent can write a book of any length he wants, and certainly of any content. There is no limit to what literature can portray... other than his paper and ink, which are cheap enough to procure...Creating a work in a visual medium is considerably more expensive.
Yes, but once you've written that book, how much does it cost to do the following:

1) Buy original illustration copyrights and titling for the cover layout;

2) Buy reviews set to run in high-traffic websites, newspapers, and magazines disseminated across the geographical areas where your book's language is used, then gain permission to pre-quote selected pieces of those reviews on the dust jacket;

3) Print a million copies;

4) Ensure front-page placement for Amazon.com, front kiosk placement in the dwindling number of physical bookstores, "reading center" placement in department stores, and, most importantly, the pre-planned purchase of hundreds of thousands of copies by a nationwide network of taxpayer funded public and public school libraries...

...?

The only remaining media for individual distribution is (minimalist blurbs on blogs or) illustration, where good drawing still has a chance to penetrate the tiny attention span of the average Outer Party member who can afford to buy a print. Even that level of independence is dying out, as factory-farmed illustrators and 3D modeling programs (which allow you to use templates to arrange, then produce, a large, complicated piece of visual "artwork") will eventually be able to fill the marketplace with so much fodder that--like books, movies, TV, games, pictures, etc.--the average prole/OP-member will no longer be able to find her way to the rare Jane Spectacular, nor have the processing power to tell the difference when and if~

Monday, February 8, 2016

Idiots

Not like this! Nothing like the spectacle you have just given us, sir. Leave me alone, will you? No, George, if, as you said yourself just now, a lawyer said in open court that he found it quite natural that a man should murder six people because he was in misery, the world must be coming to an end. I had not heard of it before. Now I understand everything. And this stutterer, won't he turn out a murderer? I bet he will! He will have none of your money, possibly, he will refuse it because his conscience will not allow him to accept it, but he will go murdering you by night and walking off with your cashbox, with a clear conscience! He does not call it a dishonest action but 'the impulse of a noble despair'; 'a negation'; or the devil knows what! Bah! Everything is upside down, everyone walks head downwards. A young girl, brought up at home, suddenly jumps into a cab in the middle of the street, saying: 'Good-bye, mother, I married Marcus, or Jacob, the other day!' And you think it quite right? You call such conduct estimable and natural? The 'woman question'? Look here, the other day that whippersnapper told me that this was the whole meaning of the 'woman question.' But even supposing that your mother is a fool, you are none the less, bound to treat her with humanity. Why did you come here tonight so insolently? 'Give us our rights, but don't dare to speak in our presence. Show us every mark of deepest respect, while we treat you like the scum of the earth.' The miscreants have written a tissue of calumny in their article, and these are the men who seek for truth, and do battle for the right! 'We do not beseech, we demand, you will get no thanks from us, because you will be acting to satisfy your own conscience!' What morality! But, good heavens! If you declare that the nation's generosity will, excite no gratitude in you, it might answer that it is not, bound to be grateful to Abramovitch, who also was only satisfying his own conscience. But you counted on the nation's gratitude towards Abramovitch; you never lent him any money; he owes you nothing; then what were you counting upon if not on his gratitude? And if you appeal to that sentiment in others, why should you expect to be exempted from it? They are mad! They say society is savage and inhuman because it despises a young girl who has been seduced. But if you call society inhuman you imply that the young girl is made to suffer by its censure. How then, can you hold her up to the scorn of society in the newspapers without realizing that you are making her suffering, still greater? Madmen! Vain fools! They don't believe in God, they don't believe in Christ! But you are so eaten up by pride and vanity, that you will end by devouring each other--that is my prophecy! Is not this absurd? Is it not monstrous chaos? And after all this, that shameless people will go and beg their pardon! Are there many people like you? What are you smiling at? Because I am not ashamed to disgrace myself before you?--Yes, I am disgraced--it can't be helped now! But don't you jeer at me, you scum! He is almost at his last gasp, yet he corrupts others. You, have got hold of this lad. You have turned his head, you have taught him to be an atheist, you don't believe in God, and you are not too old to be whipped, sir! A plague upon you! And so, America, you will call on them tomorrow, will you?

(You know it's good when you have to change so very little. See you next time around.)

Saturday, February 6, 2016

Cosmological Selfies

The prominent ✡theoretician Marcelo Gleiser, who took Brazilian nationality, British education, and American income, recently tweeted, "The more we know about the universe, the more unique we become. What we do with this knowledge is, of course, a personal choice for each of us. To have this choice is the privilege of being human." Such drivel is the ontological equivalent of taking a picture of oneself next to a celebrity as proof that you had a great vacation, on the order of, "Look, there's me and Sol! He is so down to Earth!!!"

The subtler form of the message is the hellish whisper, "You are alone. You are an asparagus-flavored burp in Oparin's purposeless void." Poor broken ✡Yahweh can't keep himself from jettisoning his trembling sperm across ✡National Public Radio every few months, futilely trying to stamp out any possible vestige of hope, whether it comes in the form of quiet grace or sober experimentation.

The Nihilist's Rally farce offers itself anew: "If you really don't care, why aren't you home on the couch?" I don't particularly mind a bunch of idiot priests crowing about their theoretical fantasies, but all of these science popularizers produce worse entertainment than the latest summer apocalypse movie, and their suits do nothing to distinguish them from Jon Leibowitz. For Christ's sake, at least throw on a mitre and hand out some dollar-store cookies. But then, maybe the blurring effect is the whole point. Infotainment is infotainment in the land where all metaphors are grafted together at birth.

Deeper philosophy aside, even if you did believe all the speaking-in-tongues that these non-applied non-scientists engage in, it has got to be embarrassing to see lengthy three-part specials about how the entire human population should be engaged in endless mirror-gazing. Mom, Mom, look at me: yes, we all know that ✡Facebook has been part of making such self-promotion axiomatically adult; NPR, though, works to make it not only adult, but the end-limits of the highest form of human investigation. Philosophy and physics statements reach the public in the essential form, "Looks at us." No longer do they even have to collectively pretend that they have found something to do a science featurette; instead, nothing more is in order than congratulating the audience for showing up. Attendance equals straight As, as it were. And all this merely because Earth's stunted atmospheric flight capability and digital communications arrays have not yet located extrasolar purple Amazons interested in both having unrestrained sex with space-speculating theoreticians, and exchanging a diplomatic copy of one of their seven-hour andartonal operas for a diplomatic copy of our Straight Outta Compton with the reviews printed on the case.



"Bzzzz...Quelldorfh? Why it has the makeurge to procure on object which already has I procured?"

"Bzzz...ogglizziminizzigaphooh...not sense conundrum I answer to this time have, Scallmar."

"Bzzzz...horaash...very well. Into device reading insert capability. We observe shall, Quelldorfh."

"We observe shall. Zzzllp..."

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Free Stuff Mobile

The oft-unspoken subtext to Bernie-haters is who's getting the free stuff: e.g., why pay 85-IQ couch whales to crank out six extra Freddies when you could instead pay June to produce a few more Beavers? It's not socialized enforcement of antiliberty that they dislike, it's rather the idea of being required to help other teams to genetic victory. Lord knows I've no interest in more Freddies, but neither do I like the idea of more Beavers. I avoid the good mall in town as assiduously as I avoid the bad mall in town, and encourage you to do the same. Libertarianism is childish because it neglects the necessary support structure, ergo be tribal. But when the flying saucers attack, must needs our tribal boundaries expand? Relativity, no; relative proximity, yes?

Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Outdated Restrictions

Hi Jane! My name's Betty Friedan and I'm here to tell you a few things about female labor laws, ok? They're silly and outdated. Why back in the 2000s, humans with uteri and estrogen could work as they pleased; from textile factories to iron smelts. Yippee! Hurray!
2001's Zoolander sprang from the same essential source as Matrix and Good Will Hunting. Only a year before, Meet the Parents had offered an archetypal "biting the hand that feeds you" derision of its host culture; 2001 saw another grand project of Europhobic orgasmia in Zoolander, in which the ✡Federal Reserve's plutocrats of the nineteen thirties are cast as inversely sexualized Euros--effeminate, squawking Will Ferrell as Mugatu, and masculine, aggressive Milla Jovovich as Katinka--blamed for child labor under both stereotypical industrialism (Dickensian ✡London), and the stereotypical corrupt Oriental world (the ✡Dutch East India Company's old opium stomping grounds in Malaysia).

(This is a tale in which the Star of David could be propended to nearly every word, of course, so for simplicity's sake, this one will limit its employment to the most glaringly public, uncontroversial of places, where even the Times and the Atlantic wouldn't gainsay the connection.)

Even the de-historicized people in the fluid now have had at least a hundred years more time than they needed, in 2016, to view how financial ✡communo-capitalism--as distinct from the industrial capital representing accumulations of exertion that ✡Marx wanted to destroy by likening it to finance capital--destroyed the social protections of communities of men, then children, then women, then elders. Various ✡liberation movements pertaining to "the right to work" forced men to become subservient, imprisoned employees (various European rebellions), followed by children (establishment of various central banks, followed by the institution of mandatory public child mind prison), followed by women (feminism), followed by elders (liberation from parental control). In Zoolander it is of course a heroic, naive, selfless, fiscally and ethnically unaware Jewish man who condescends to bed and marry a beautiful Euro slut, in spite of her drunken gangbangs with Euro druggies, Finnish dwarves, and Maori tribesmen. The same hero then resists both subhuman Oriental scum, along with Euro finance capital, in saving the world. As we all know, the gook trash in Malaysia are delighted to work their children to death in western factories, for reasons that have nothing whatsoever to do with national boundaries established and shifted at whim by the ✡Cheka and the ✡Israel/NATO coalition.

What a lark, to see propaganda so near the peak of western feminism as Zoolander, negatively displaying the same traditionalist arguments that were used against feminism! Clearly, this is murder one--they knew exactly what they were doing from the beginning. The goy suspension of disbelief--the unwillingness to believe that anyone could possibly be so well-organized, so evil, and so committed to evil, across generations--is so forsakenly necessary, here, for any of this to work. Too pure to belong in creation, eh?

The actual quote from Mugatu is:
Hi Derek! My name's Little Cletus and I'm here to tell you a few things about child labor laws, ok? They're silly and outdated. Why back in the 30s, children as young as five could work as they pleased; from textile factories to iron smelts. Yippee! Hurray!
Those arguments were disregarded by the great creditor-priests when finance capital was destroying the cultural traditions that safeguarded children from icy streets and brutal factories--a la almost anything Dickens wrote--and they were similarly disregarded, even in the late twentieth century, when finance capital wanted to toss women into the same prison which had already ensnared men and children.

You're likely not old enough yet to be familiar with the way these arguments are being used in the current assault on elders. Like the assault on men, which took centuries of universalist revolutions in dozens of countries in Eurasia to batter the world's free men into wage slavery, or the assault on women, which took half a century to begin initial enslavement, the war on elders is taking shape only after protracted fighting. Yet, like all the others, it is being lost. Even 15 years after Zoolander, 15 years after the vampires' complete, joyful, and openly public mockery of their arguments, those very arguments are proving useful against the memoryless horde. Mugatu's self-serving speech about outdated restrictions is being used on elders right now (merely the carrot, of course, in conjunction with the stick of economic mandate and the destruction of elder-youth relationships), encouraging them to pursue freedom, independence, etc., in order that they might end up alone in overcrowded profit prisons, dying in a pile of bedsores and shit.

The end goal remains what it has been since the terrorspawn hated the idea of existing in the first place:
Suffering comes from being alive. Life is the cause of suffering. Without life, there would be no pain; no fear; no hurting of any kind. Because I am a good person, I have decided to help everyone by saving them from having to suffer. When my work is done, none shall suffer.

Saturday, January 30, 2016

Qualified Reservations

Criticizing godless Protestantism is exactly what you'd expect them to do once God is dead. It was never the supernatural concepts that they hated; it was the ideas themselves. Ideas of humanity, pricelessness, inherent value, decency, kindness, consideration--these are the things they set out to destroy, and disregarding the supernatural side of it by mocking the Gospels was only one stage in the battle. Blaming "universalist protestantism," even acknowledgedly godless universalist puritanical protestantism, is nothing but another war on Yule, excuse me, Christmas, excuse me, Holiday, excuse me, Rest Period 27-B.

Stop it. Stop calling Freudbug your "starting off point." Stop heralding him as insightful. The stuff he put together isn't brilliant or original, it's merely a hundred years of anti-communist resistance, a thousand years of community mores, organized by an uncreative propagandist into snappy postmodern language and used as a trick to redirect people away from hunting vampires, and towards hunting humans while vampires clap with glee. Yusuf ibn Tashfin was able to retake Valencia because those nasty Jenomic mental plagues, and their carefully guided, ethnically honed "reformations," split different kinds of human cattle against one another. Yes, the rapefugees are Uruk-hai, but you don't get Uruk-hai without fallen Maiar cross-breeding bestial orcs with skittering goblins, and even then, Uruk-hai aren't anything close to a threat without the foul whispers and false counsel of Maiar infiltrators placed thousands of years ago. Left to their own devices, uruks would range around the southern wastes doing no harm to anybody but themselves, and making the natural world more rich and ecologically sound in the process. Worms and weevils well and should bother you when they're in your sandwich or your silo, but not when they're helping break down soil into rich farming ground. Ranting about the weevils themselves when someone dumps a bucket of them into your grain is sheer idiocy. The weevils are happy, but they'd be equally happy decomposing other stuff. Shitting in the Ganges wasn't a major problem until the (((Dutch East India Company))) used capital generated by the fruits of Celt slave labor to move factories, breeding programs, manufactured goods, and noxious chemicals into old Arya.

So when Saruman Fucking Freudbug tells you to be a good little Wormtongue and punish those treacherous unfeminine women who completely deserve it, you're not a reactionary, you're just a tool, as broken as a bra-burning baby boomer. How long are you going to run around throwing bucketfuls of water out of your sinking rowboat while Oppenheimer giggles over his drill? Be a bit better than Charles Alexander...for Christ's sake, you've had over two hundred years to pay attention, and you're still getting riled up against snackbars, like they're the real problem? Have some brains; have some dignity; stop wasting your energy complaining about the muds, who, absent your pitiable susceptibility, would have long ago ground the vampires into the dust.

Seriously, Europe is the problem here. All the math, all the machines, all the distribution networks, all the bulletproof vests and M-16s and jet fighters and nukes that let the vampires keep feeding off everyone--it all came from, and was handed out by, Europe. (Fucking Martians-in-exile, really. ;)) If you'd stop interfering with the immune system around here, your kebabs would kebab the vampires, and everything would be naturalistic, nationalistic, fatherlandic peace. It is the White people who are ruining it all by developing and fostering the poxes that trash everything in this joint.

Friday, January 29, 2016

By their fruits

I absolutely love the Huffington Post. No matter the format of modern news--newspaper, tablet, smartphone, iBrain--it has, as of yet, been simply impossible for bullshit peddlers to avoid wrapping their reeking propaganda in the most facile of recycled traveling-circus fare. Even ten centuries removed from whatever the "political issues" of the era are, you can always come back to this planet and situate yourself correctly by finding out who's talking about new and better ways to brew, buttfuck, intercede with the gods, increase your inner energy, or bask in the opinions of the rich and attractive.

Titillate me, oh great consumer lord, for my cup hath runneth over! Pierce my every orifice with top tens, normative coercion, the savvy on the newest youth culture, and bandwagon shaming galore. There has surely never been a better time to know how to think!