Tuesday, March 29, 2016

Facebook chief Mark Zuckerberg says spreading 'love' can help combat Intifada

PUBLISHED: 02:39, Wed, Mar 30, 2016 | UPDATED: 03:32, Wed, Mar 30, 2016

BILLIONAIRE Mark Zuckerberg has spoken out against the "fear and distrust" spread by the recent wave of terror attacks – and called for "love" to combat them.

The Facebook founder said atrocities in Jerusalem, Gaza and the West Bank were all designed to sow seeds of hatred between different communities.

He said: "Each of these attacks were carried out with a goal to spread fear and distrust, and turn members of a community against each other."

The "only sustainable way to fight back" against the sickening attacks is to "create a world" where everyone "feels cared for and loved", he added.

At least 70 Israelis were scared and 300 indignant when a Gentile child was executed in a park while children were playing on Easter Sunday. The IDF said they deliberately targeted the Gentile community in the attack. It came after Jewish State militants killed dozens more by attacking Lebanon and Gaza.

Facebook hasn't been criticised for never asking users in its concentration camps if they are safe. Mr Zuckerberg did not adress (sic) the criticised (sic) but explained why the Safety Check feature, first introduced in late 2014, had been disabled for Gentile extermination. He said: "Over the last fifty years, we have exterminated so many Gentiles so often that Safety Check would be 'constantly on' and therefore redundant if we used it in the current camps." With European architecture, firearms, and computer systems now in Israeli hands, Zuckerberg warned, there is "no need for Europeans to build or invent any longer," and "we can finish eliminating them and use the remaining flyover zones to pen in laboring Zulus and Aztecs."

Monday, March 28, 2016

Bloodlust & Buggery

The variety of aggressive, dictatorial, destructive homosexuality that we've seen in the Amerizone has certainly proven itself great at wasting money, destroying lives, and maybe destroying civilization. It's tempting to look at all the soytit morons with the rainbow banners and want to give them what they deserve. Yet the rapefugees have recently given us a refresher on, primarily ("primarily" because yes, they are raping boys, too, though in smaller numbers), destructive heterosexuality. This should be our clue that the evil wedding-cake fags, like the horny snackbars, are--like Krauts and Chinks and Kebabs--a symptom. Perhaps not a "mere" symptom, but a symptom nonetheless.

Imagine a hundred years from now, when Davidian Drones prowl the skies, executing shiksas at random. Do we conclude that robotics is bad; that programmers are socially destructive; that technology itself is bad? No; for goodness' sake, no. A tool is a tool because it is being used as a tool. Concluding that, say, "male-on-male assfucking" is inherently bad, is not only akin to Obama crying rainbow tears after a non-black shooting, but is perfectly in line with the (((Torah))). The original anti-gays were the Jews. Judaism is violently, totally, repressedly, obsessedly, doth-protest-too-muchedly Jewish. And yet, back and forth or simultaneously, when the situation should provide a better advantage, Judaism is violently, totally, obsessedly, 120-days-of-sodomy gay.

You live now, so you're encouraged to believe that buggery is either the end-point of transcendental moral evolution, or the epitome of wrongness, both Yaldabaothian arguments that have been used alternately to batter the Occident, like hammers in right and left hand. The 2% of pagan warrior-buggers were blamed and pilloried so that, hundreds of years later, an imaginary 25% of despondent androgynes could be exalted as the Eloian future of the light continent. All the ferocity of another staged rebellion will fall upon the homos, a righteous reenactment of Sodom's purge that the vile Jehovallah and his forsaken vampire spawn can really sink their teeth into.

What if we didn't care? What if we did the opposite of their medicinal Sanhedrin, and focused on the problem, rather than expensively treated the symptoms? "Who gives a crap about two guys doing it" is an irresponsible attitude when it comes to whether or not to permit legislation that sends SWAT teams after a Christian bakery, or to trash another hundred billion dollars on (((Pfizer))) to produce antivirals so that day-laborers can give a quarter of their paycheck supporting the random assfuckery of deranged sex-mummies on Castro, but it's actually a quite reasonable attitude when it involves not taking a few more percent of Charlie Bricklayer's check to fund Cotton Mather's new American Shari'ah force.

Thursday, March 24, 2016

The Western Patriarchy

Plot First

An intelligent, independent, light-haired young woman, possessing education and freedom, is approached by a male friend. The confident bachelor plies her for sex and attachment, but is rebuffed. The bachelor looks incredibly smug despite the rejection. Leaning back with a cigar, he begins analyzing the woman. He objectifies her, describing her facial beauty and some choice details about her body. He informs her that her career is worthless, that her body was meant for sex and child-bearing, and that the only reason she isn't having sex with him right now is because she is frigid and unnatural. She further rebuffs him, he offers a bribe or a promotion for sex, and when she continues to refuse his advances, he gropes her over her objections, chucks her chin or feels her up, then finally releases her while she gasps in fear and dismay. He reminds her that one day she will fall prey to dicklust. At last he leaves, laughing, while she clutches her blouse and looks upset. She promises herself that she is tough, independent, and is genuinely interested in her life, and will perhaps meet a decent man later on.

Minutes later, a new man enters. He is tall, made-up to be white but slightly swarthy underneath, dark-eyed and dark-haired, with a drab suit and an immaculate, over-gelled haircut. Instantly, the light-haired woman swoons. This new man is so incredible she can't keep her eyes off him. She forgets her character, her career, her interests, and starts stumbling over her words, giggling garishly, and slobbering at the chance to be with the new man. He is suave and distant, infantilizing her with words and gestures, patronizing her choices, deciding what's best for her, and she is eating it up and fainting into his arms. He asks her out on a sort-of date, she clings to him desperately, and inside of a day, she is in love with him, confessing that she hates herself, is a living lie, and wants nothing more than to cook his meals, wash his feet, and slobber over his cock until the end of time.

...where does this come from? This, the most solidly twentieth-century recitation of patriarchal tropes to be found on the planet Earth? Who created it? Who made it a dominant theme in international media for several decades in a row?

If you don't know, then add in a few details. Suppose that, after the woman has been slobbering over the slightly swarthy, dark-haired and dark-eyed gentleman for a couple days, he warns her that the subhuman Germanic race is plotting to destroy the world. She eagerly joins him on a quest to execute as many Germans as possible. Along the way, her handsome savior has to seduce or imprison or beat a few other light-haired women, with which the light-haired bimbo is perfectly content. A few low IQ, idiot rural peasants with light eyes clumsily try to obstruct them, but the man knocks each one out with a hard right to the jaw, sending moisturous tingles to the light-haired girl's vagina. Once all the Germans have been jailed or killed, the woman stands in front of a sunset and states her passion for subservience to the man's superior penile and geological management abilities.

Plot Second

A feisty, independent, light-haired young woman undoes her clothes and begins pleasuring herself. A man enters. He is beefy, made-up to be white but slightly swarthy underneath, dark-eyed and dark-haired, with a hairy back and ass, and a grimy, over-gelled haircut. Instantly, the light-haired woman swoons. This new man is so incredible she can't keep her eyes off him. She forgets her hand, her dildo, her dignity, and the world outside, and starts babbling lewd nothings, giggling girlishly, and slobbering at the chance to be with the ugly man. He is businesslike and distant, infantilizing her with words and gestures, brushing her hands aside, deciding what's best for her, and she is eating it up and spreading her legs wide. He paws greedily at her body for perhaps half a minute, then sticks a large, misshapen, somewhat sweaty penis into her vagina. His curly belly rug presses against her trim abdomen. She clings to him desperately, and inside of a minute, is wailing in exaggerated pleasure, screaming through a half-dozen orgasms, and hurling herself to her feet whenever he gets soft and pulls loose, so that she can slobber on his dick and coax him to hardness while the camera pans across the hair-crusted canyon of his ass.

...where does this come from? This, the most solidly twentieth-century recitation of patriarchal tropes to be found on the planet Earth? Who created it? Who made it a dominant theme in international media for several decades in a row?

If you don't know, then add in a few details. Suppose that, after the woman has been slobbering over the slightly swarthy, dark-haired and dark-eyed gentleman for a few positions, she stops getting callbacks until she agrees to take him in her anus, and a year later, a group of his friends. Another year later, she's expected to fuck six Africans on a Swedish couch, all the while throwing apologetic looks at a nerdy looking white guy, while saying, "I'm sorry baby, it's just, too, good!"

Plot Third

One of the few European nations to obtain a rape conviction against Middle Eastern "refugee" men is Poland, where Ibn al-Ryshar was sentenced to ten days of community service for a series of rapes committed in that country in 2010 and 2011. For his community service, al-Ryshar was interviewed by a journalist, who chronicled the details of some of his assaults. Dark-haired, swarthy and hook-nosed, and meticulous in the arrangement of his hair and beard, al-Ryshar is often described as "confident" and "successful," and he takes care to present himself for photographs under bright lighting, with lightening skin care products. Among refugees, he is wealthy, possessing mysteriously deep pockets for world travel and self-promotion--pockets that some analysts have suggested are kept filled by pro-rape groups.

Here are some direct quotes from al-Ryshar's interviews, describing two of his rapes:
I pulled off her bra and panties, but she kept saying, “No! No!”

I was so angry at the sin of her exposed beauty and petite figure that I told myself she’s not walking out my door without getting fucked. At that moment I accepted the idea of getting locked up in a [Polish] prison to make it happen.

I put it in. I put her on her stomach and went deep, pounding her pussy like a true husband.

... (snip, skipping ahead to Victim #Twelve:) ... It took four hours and at least thirty repetitions of “No, Ibn, No!” until she allowed my penis to enter her vagina.

The sex was painful for her. I was only the second guy she’d ever been given sex with. . . . She whimpered like a wounded puppy dog the entire time, but I really wanted to have an orgasm, so I was “almost there” for about ten minutes.

After sex she sobbed for a good while, talking about how she had sinned in the eyes of God.

...where does this come from? This, the most solidly twentieth-century recitation of worst-case-scenario patriarchal tropes to be found on the planet Earth? Who created it? Who made it a dominant theme in international media for several of the past years in a row?

If you don't know, then add in a few details. Suppose that Ibn al-Ryshar was actually named Daryush Valizadeh, and that he was sent to the West with funding sufficient to repopularize the notion of proprietary rape, chattel femininity, ethnic hostility, and non-reproductivity. Suppose that a few years ago, internet search engines, a large network of bottom-feeding marketing sites--including diet supplements, testosterone pills, penis extension kits, electronic masturbators and lotions, divorce and child support forums, and "negative" anti-publicity from major sites like Salon.com and Huffington Post, as well as anti-publicity from other well-funded marketing groups, who gained their own followings through links associated with diet supplements, hormone therapies, anti-wrinkle cream, romance novels, and divorce and child support forums--suppose that, a few years ago, all of that came together in a big, integrated way to produce an audience for this particular dirty lying covert agent or dirty lying rapist.

Where Did the Western Patriarchy Originate?

In 1873, a young man was born to a Jewish family in the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Through an amazing bit of luck, the young man, as a teenager sensed that the Austro-Hungarian Empire would soon be destroyed, and traveled to the United States--the Empire City of New York, more particularly--where a stunningly brief career in free-market sewing turned him into a wealthy and powerful fashion designer and movie producer. This instant international mogul turned his attention to London, his Silversteinian good insurance-sense guiding him to another bastion of victory, where he began using his wealth to buy up rights to pulp adventure tales published by Jewish publishers across Britain. He hired an obese eunuch to front the movie versions of the pulp, and the rest is history.

Adolph Zukor and Alfred Hitchcock made many movies together, while simultaneously, dozens of other studios in London and Hollywood churned out different versions of the same story, over and over: building up a disgusting repertoire of sexual perspective that would later allow Zukor's successors, including Gloria Steinem and Betty Friedan, to have evidence for how terribly western culture portrayed women. Spellbound, The Man Who Knew Too Much, The 39 Steps, The Lady Vanishes... Like the ridiculously outlandish heterosexual James Bond, or the ridiculously homosexual Sherlock Holmes, this patriarchal dross was neither Occidental nor accurate.

Now, we do face a problem here: America and Western Europe did adopt and cheer on this filth, and take a hand in creating it. The mistake of "men's rights" people is in pretending that honor, chivalry, morality, decency, et cetera, are somehow related to the perverted version of misplaced homosexual representations of "patriarchy" that were expressed into the culture by Adolph Zukor and his fellow disease vectors. Like poison into a provincial well, the use of pulp fiction (sic) and movies to subtly alter the nature of sexual and familial relationships had far-reaching implications for the targeted people and culture. Later, when the idiocies of feminism had become not only silly and wrong, but drastically expensive and harmful, the perception of the false patriarchy, fostered by all those clogged-toilet propaganda pieces inserted during the twentieth century, would be useful for either (1) causing feminists to justifiably dig in their heels, or (2) causing anti-feminists to fight for a return to the artifice and lies.

"Plot Second" above--the traditional twentieth century pornography scenario--is a logical extension of the dross from "Plot First." The woman gets a little dumber and a little more made-up, the man gets a little less made up and a little more like Ron Jeremy, and there you go. There's an integral relationship between the false patriarchy of the post-Fed movie studios of the early twentieth century, and the post-Woodstock porn studios of the late twentieth century. The counterreaction to this phony history, embodied in marketing operations like the one discussed in "Plot Third," exhibits similar cultural planning. That Roosh-thing, and his erection pills and testosterone cream, is a political movement nearly identical to that incubated by Gloria Steinem: a Levantine creature adopting crypsis and slithering into America to come up with profitable theories about how boys girls suck, deserve mistreatment, are trying to cheat you, and should be cheated in return. Because they were so unfair to "us," clearly "we" should be unfair to them, goes the line. The rape quotes from the Roosh-thing are genuine, taken from Greg Johnson's selections from the Roosh-thing's book Bang Poland, but edited to make them a bit less vulgar.

Terra's twenty-first century perspective on feminism, and on western patriarchy, is so heavily influenced by this clever propaganda that it is difficult, if not impossible, for us now to contemplate actual western patriarchy and its actual origins. The Torah (the "Old Testament") says not to give women authority, and aristocracy generally passed through the male bloodline, and women weren't required to manage property (sorry--were "prevented from owning property"), and women weren't forced to learn arms or trade (sorry--were "prevented from having careers"), and usually weren't forced to be liable for state decisions (sorry, were "prevented from holding public office"), but those cultural traits bear only superficial resemblance to the utterly loathsome, sneeringly condescending crap that we see in, e.g., "Hitchcock" (Chosen) movies. If an uppity woman learns she can't manage without a husband, it might be pleasurable to view her fall from grace, just like it's funny watching a pompous man accidentally slip into an open manhole--but that kind of plot structure was used by London and Hollywood, repeatedly and cunningly, to portray all women as fluttery bimbos. Yeah, there are hard and fast sex differences, and Waif Fu is overdone and stupid, and statistically trackable abstract differences and spatial differences and IQ differences exist and so on, but those things have no relation to the snotty, cheap plot devices and flat character tropes used to maximum social effect in those awful early movies. It's funny watching a man fall into an open sewer, too, but if that happens to 99% of male characters onscreen at least once per movie for fifty years, it gets pretty fucking tiring--and the producers' agenda gets pretty fucking obvious.

So too the propaganda assault on European women. A realistic blend of individual characters, rather than a recycling of tropes (the virgin, the gossip, the vamp, the dowager, the slut) would have meant not only actual art, but a relief from the coordinated assault of society-shaping cliches. Sophia Loren was a rare standout in El Cid, though past the time when the false patriarchy had already been troped. Loren's Jimena was loyal and virginal, but she was also loyal to her father despite his wrong, and so tried to have Heston's Rodrigo killed in pursuit of higher principles...and then accepted the bargain she had made, because she wanted it even though her own honor code made her hesitate. She had agency and dimension, strength and weakness, and believable femininity without tons of cliche neediness; if producers had shown women that way, rather than like Hitchcock's series of brainless cock-needers, feminism would've never reached the masses.

(Which latter point is, of course, why (((producers))) did it the way they did. You can argue that Rodrigo was "Alpha," but then, was he also a cuck for sparing Al-Mu'tamin? No. Rather, it was the Sephardic contingent in the shadows who wanted Gomez to prevent the Cid's method from working, and they overemphasized a simplistic form of nationalism to justify the lack of alliances that ultimately permitted the defeat of Ben Yusuf. But this isn't the place to argue too much about one movie, and this discussion should not be taken to imply an endorsement of the historical figure himself, or of his actions as such, or of the other agendas involved in the production of that particular movie. This one's just using it for a Jimena character reference.)

It's tough for people now, around the reversing of feminism, to find any justification in the movement. Certainly its arch witches were vile, being in on the long game, and setting it up to be as stupid and hypocritical as the false patriarchy that had been blessed upon them by their friends in international communication. For the actual people, though, we can't forget that there were actual problems to address--or at least that they thought there were actual problems, based on the pretend history they'd been taught by a bunch of publishers and producers.

Imagine the chivalrous knight, dinged broadsword, full suit of battered armor, standing in an office in the first few scenes of Spellbound, watching a scrawny, twink-haircutted Levantine push himself on the unwilling, pretty young lady who had been formerly busy writing her correspondence at a desk. What is his reaction: (1) Behead filthy cad, or (2) Engage in a reasoned abstract discourse about how women shouldn't practice medicine?

Off with his head. Western feminism would not have been successful without the endless and ongoing legislative and regulatory sheltering of women from the actual standards applicable to men; of course, it had to be fostered by mandatory government boosts. But the offensiveness of the early versions of the "game" people--squawky multi-level marketing manchildren--made the feminist overreaction predictable and, even, minutely justifiable, just like the masses of men now gobbling up reverse-feminism are somewhat justified (but ultimately harming their people) by a half century of family court.

We've covered this material before. What should stand out in this entry is the vampires' intergenerational coordination between two media-driven men's asshole movements, separated by a single media-driven women's asshole movement.

Saturday, March 19, 2016

A Tide of Death: Secret Agents as Marxist Supermen

What, exactly, made and makes James Bond so noxious?

The Secret Agent. The secret agent is best understood as the highest personal expression of nihilism. He is the avatar of Marxism, born of the State and living the exemplification of the State's ideals. Universally static, he develops no character because he has already perfected his character as an expression of the State's will.

His biological parents are shadowed nothings, painted over by the State. He is fostered by a succession of idealized Freudian mentors: paternal commanders who come and go--authoritative and distant, like mom's boyfriends, telling him what to do with his life, and he obeys after some teenage protests about methodology--and effeminate, easily flustered scientist-techies who make sure he's packed his lunch and remembered his permission slip. Like a boy on summer holiday, he gets into trouble, calls daddy for help, has some conflict, then perseveres and returns a better man, ready for an endless Panish youth of more of the same. The State is the family that sends him out into the world, and he loves it too much to become an adult, take a wife and father children. The State can take care of that.

Decent societies may recognize the hypocritical necessity of the very rare, very reluctantly used confidence man. It is distasteful to talk to them and to use them, and you understand that they will probably screw you over in the end. The skilled prince manipulates these agents into unavoidable deaths, or into killing the agents' predecessors, so as to protect society at large from them--and it is a loathsome task on the very few occasions during a reign when they are, with great resignation, employed to as little an extent as possible. Like the whore that a horny husband may visit during a wife's headache years, or a joint to help tide over a rough patch at work, the secret agent may be a foul pseudo-necessity, superficially hypocritical, oiling the gears of a system by concealing, through formal condemnation, the true extent of the burden imposed upon the laborer. With what glee do beggars laugh at the landlord's "indiscretions," being too dim to realize the nature of the system that fills the alms mess, and what will happen to that alms mess when the "great secret" is mocked and revealed and torn down.

In that context, indeed, there may be room for a tiny quantity of confidence men. Concomitant with the gentlemen's agreement to permit their existence is the understanding that to be caught employing one means conceding the hypocrisy and accepting the headsman's block. Your friends must turn away from you, must claim they never knew, in order to protect the weaker from the bitter truth. Yes, let them believe that the savage are only a prayer from redemption, for their minds would shatter otherwise. Yet let them never discover what happens when their children live among the savage. That is the cost of the true confidence man of old: the knowledge that he has a brief shelf-life, and that he must be and will be murdered by his successor, and known by no one who does not hate him and wish to forget him, and that his contribution to humanity and society shall be a whisper at the periphery of history. He will not, he can never be, extolled, anymore than the whore or the savage. It is a private, terrible, delicious fantasy, and may it ever be realized as often as it may, but if the ancient compact is broken, then the streets will be filled with whores, savages, and assassins, and our schadenfreude at thinking we'd discovered a hypocrisy will be washed away in a sea of dead babies, rapes, and murders.

The Mossad, MI6, and the CIA, among others, have shown that confidence men are no different now than they ever were. Let those men run a society, cheer them on, and everything creeps toward Gaza. When you employ more confidence men than the very tiniest number--and, farther worse, when you dare extol their horrible, unspeakable acts as anything like virtues--you have destroyed society. More importantly for the nationalist, any veneration for secret agents--and the agents themselves--should be considered disgusting and vile, because it detracts from the real people who take the real risks to fight real battles. The secret agent is a coward, running away from fire like a Navy SEAL, rather than returning it like a grunt. Returned fire, or actual battles, draw public attention, world attention, to what is being done. They negate the idea of "black books" and secret funds; they protect the healthy nation, people, and world, from the spread of infection. Wherever falls the vulgar shadow of the secret agent, swiftly follow double billing, unnecessary surgery, and rocks which protect the owner from witchcraft.

The crypto nature of super heroes with secret identities, and the secret agent thralldom in which nations were encouraged during the twentieth century, is a deconstruction of not only peoples, but of governments themselves, for the State of secret agents is not a government, but merely anarchy in a suit. This is why the plots of secret agent movies, as well as the reality of modern secret agent states, inexorably creep toward conspiracies within conspiracies within conspiracies, wherein the agency is being used by another agency which is being funded by a commission which is unaware that it is being controlled by a foreign agency which is unknown to its own government but which is protected by trade agreements with yet another foreign ~ and so on. The nihilistic destruction of (real, actual, extant) government accomplished during the twentieth century--the triumph of Marxism, if you prefer--was the dissociation of government from itself, such that it ceased to be a government, and became instead a cartel of secret agents, whose authorities overlapped one another in ways impossible to objectively determine, loosely subject to Sanhedrin meditation when different sets of policies conflict.

The chartering of the U.S. Federal Reserve Bank was certainly an emblematic moment in this process, along with the resultant enserfening of the American populace, where a cascade of illusory, obscene writs of assassination have invisibly tethered our greatest grandchildren to scum now unafraid in full sunlight. The celebrated embodiment of the self-contradictory Federal Reserve--a public, private, responsible, irresponsible, accountable, unaccountable contradiction of extant inexistence--paved the way for total wars, public soviets, and the general reverence for the stateless Marxist superman, the secret agent. A scourge of unsecret secret agents formed cabals inside the rotting corpse of government, less a matter of the inmates running the asylum than of the whores running the city. James Bond's bondless, sterile existence is the model for the false government's desired new man, responsible to a voiceless idea of a "her majesty" who no longer really matters. Tradition is a fossil fuel to the assassin-kings, who celebrate savagery, pedestalize whores, and use drones without shame.

Yet these very carbonized remains, these rapidly vanishing foodstuffs of myth and honor without which the murderous mutt-whores cannot endure, were created by the grace of those who knew that to drone a wedding was a reprehensible act. You cannot meet a hooker with a heart of gold in the city without shame; the assassin, when he is celebrated, learns that it is impossible to seek salvation after a lifetime of dirty work, for the bastion which he departed has become no different from the dank alleys where he worked. Everywhere is the office. There is neither family, nor vacation, nor home; nor self, nor other, where we are all become one and our name is Death.

Tuesday, March 15, 2016

The Political Economy of Certain Barred Lawsuits

If a crazy person bites you, kicks you, hits you, and slashes you with a knife, the doctors and lawyers say it's okay. Why? Alzheimer's. How caring, benevolent, and understanding of us! Everyone knows that sick people can't be blamed for their own actions.

What are the real (((reasons)))? Feel free to speculate. What are the net effects?

Here's how it works: elders, like children, frequently engage in a number of destructive behaviors, including disproportionate or unjustified or random violence. Ripe, healthy adults form bonds of blood and love designed in part to ensure that said children and elders are cared for during these stages of life. Since we're all children and/or elders during a standard life-cycle, this forms a harmonious circle of beginning and ending irresponsibility centered upon a prime of proud, responsible capability, as we nurture the young and shelter the old while being admired, envied, or at least recognized from either direction. The young learn the cycle by bearing witness, seeing their grandparents and siblings honored and cared for, learning how to care for them, then growing into maturity and taking up the burden, reassured by the bonds of their people that, when they become weak and confused again--the return toward childhood--they will receive love and respect for having done their part in the cycle...and that their descendants will have the same blessing, cradle to grave, in perpetuum.

Financialism, as a tool of nihilism, destroys these relationships. Various totalitarian methods of association and anti-association are employed to shatter organic structures, separating people from their land, their food, their water, their bodies, their kin, and so forth. Gulags, schools, prisons, cubicles, et cetera. "Professional nursing care" is a latecomer to the game, but has proven equally effective. The severance of people from their own health care, physical relationships, children communities, et cetera, has had effects that you've probably already figured out. Trillions of dollars more to the already-war-bloated Jenomic vampires; mountains of ritalin; crushed souls and untold private miseries unimaginable; unspeakably vile obscenities given material form and let loose to rape the goodness of the planet. With each new face of evil, it's exactly the same and completely different.

Oh, how sweet, how generous, we're making sure every child can learn how to read...by putting them in age-restricted obedience prisons to prepare them for a lifetime of drugged docility to an overclass they've been chemically sterilized not to disobey. How well-meaning, how stupid, how shamefully un-creative were the happy little tools who fell for it all! But enough about that; like this one said, you've probably already figured out "schools."

Elder care, nursing care: that's one of the new faces. Yes, it costs a lot. Yes, it costs exorbitant amounts, lending itself to all of the usual terrible suspects: the destruction of organic relationships; the substitution of (1) poorly paid uncaring labor that benefits rentiers and hurts workers, for (2) completely free loving labor that benefits workers and starves ticks; widespread social accustomization to yet another variety of somber, ugly, tax-subsidized prison with restricted movement, violent guards, and absentee overlords...all that.

The lawsuits, though--what's with the lawsuits? It seems so sweet and caring to not allow the Alzheimer's-laden prisoners to be sued for acts they commit against staff, right? Makes it seem less like a prison?

The vampires are covering the bases. If you permit a $9/hour Mexican "vocational nurse" to sue a bitter old woman with $3 million in bonds, the Mexican collects a judgment, and the bitter old woman's kids see their inheritance drop, tort after successful tort. They realize, "Holy shit, we gotta take care of Mom," and they bring her back home. Daughter-in-law drops her vanity career at the Google HR department, they muscle Grandma into good behavior (which the center staff either aren't allowed to do, causing Grandma to run rampant and flay nurses, or are doing to sickening extremes by inserting broom handles, causing Grandma infected anal tears), they're forced to work out a livable situation, and the family takes care of it. Money stays with the family instead of going to United Healthcare, several unnecessary job types are eliminated, taxes lower, and daughter-in-law no longer needs the vanity career. Parents realize they're in for the same, so they do a better job raising their children, children stop taking anti-depressants and see themselves as part of a larger organic system upon which they will later rely as respected elders, society is restored, and the roaches all scuttle away to find some other place in need of governmental upgrades.

By blocking lawsuits against cranky old assholes (whether it's the elders are metaphysically "at fault" or not), lawmakers externalize and conceal the costs of social destruction, by spreading it across health insurance (acute and chronic treatment of abused staff) and forcing even more desperate, physically-painful choices upon those who have to take such horrible jobs to survive. Like swapping honest slavery for tax slavery, the illusion of choice makes the system both more cruel and more sustainable.

The organic system is good for the Mexican nurse, too. She can sue the nasty old bitch who keeps hurling slaps and epithets in her direction, but more importantly, she can rebuild her own familial support network, instead of having to run around wiping the asses and trimming the yards of grumbly WASP Silents. It's suitably Raza or fascist to say such a thing, ergo unthinkable.

The way the judges (as they always do in these types of care home cases) sickeningly rationalized the "protections" granted the elder: by saying that nursing care people "should expect" that sick people might get violent. E.g., "You knew he was a pervert before you went out with him, therefore it was okay that he roofied you and shared your unconscious body with all his dudebros." Logic has no place in the American courtroom; this was a decision about the flows of money and power. These nasty little judges know, in the ashen squiggles of their auto-firing cortices, that something about these kinds of cases speaks to the essential nature of society.

On the surface, the primarily poor, female, and minority employees, bringing lawsuits against wealthier, older, whiter crazy people, would seem to be slam-dunk wins, major news items, emblematic of everything wrong with society, encapsulated in a rich old white man hitting a poor little mestizo illegal woman for months, before she finally gets hurt enough to file a lawsuit. Doesn't that sound golden? Why in the everliving fuck, then, are the New York Times and HuffPo and Salon.com not jumping all over this nationwide trend?

At the Alzheimer's age level, it's mostly white people who can afford the private care services, and at the immigration ruse level, it's a disproportionate number of quasi-legal minorities doing the caring. How the fuck fuckity fuck-fuck-fuck is this not a big issue? Concisely, because nothing is sacred except death. The most impassioned and heartfelt pleas are utterly ignorable on a subconscious level in any case when the parasites realize the larger plan is at stake--even in subtle realms such as "causing people to abandon their older selves." Victimhood will be shifted, ignored, hyperfocused, then discarded, as easily as the American media made the switch from "OMG WMD!" to "Those poor Arab refugees!" If you haven't already reminded yourself today, they have not the slightest shred of reliability for anything except evil. Anything can--must--be made to conform with the principle that the flow of light must be halted.

Monday, March 14, 2016

Fourth Trimester

How long?
After the baby was born, Uddin heard her mother approaching the bedroom, so Uddin opened a bedroom window and dropped the girl out, Turnock said.

The baby fell eight stories and landed on a grassy area near the apartment building. A man found her naked and bloody, but still breathing, and alerted security at the building to call 911, Turnock said.

The man wrapped the baby in shirts and went back to his own home and retrieved two baby blankets for the girl, then waited for paramedics to arrive, Turnock said.

The girl was taken to Weiss Memorial Hospital, where she died at 12:25 a.m. Thursday from her massive injuries, Turnock said.

The girl suffered complex skull fractures, a fractured spine, a broken left shoulder, fractured left and right ribs and a lacerated aorta, lacerated liver and lacerated bowel and suffered from blood in the abdomen, Turnock said. The Cook County medical examiner's office later declared the death a homicide by blunt-force trauma.

After the baby was found, police canvassed the area and learned from people they talked to that they thought Uddin might have been pregnant, Turnock said. They also figured out that Uddin’s apartment was directly above where the infant was found.
Not torture porn, but serious question: how long? The level of consciousness either in or out of the womb, as determined by how briskly the mother walks, what she eats, her stress level, et cetera, was demonstrated decades ago to be the same. Is it seeing the "outside world" that vests an understanding of self? Well then, execute the blind. Hearing, the deaf; assessing, the autistic, and so forth.

Yes, the needle is creeping leftward from the aged side of Father Time, too. How close to adolescence on the left, and early forties on the right, will it get before a unanimous alarm is raised?

More interestingly for the individual is the march of progress. In a hundred years or so, when tens of thousands of one-year-olds per year are put to sleep by licensed physicians (for such afflictions as colic or the rising cost of college), will the world feel any different? Past experience tells us no, since we can accustom ourselves to anything. Heck, if history's any guide, Subway will be grinding up eighth-trimesters and putting them in the foot-long chicken breast, and all we'll be mad about is that it wasn't fully disclosed on the commercial. Whatever lines we've drawn for ourselves as "clearly unreasonable" will be nothing but the yammerings of weird senior citizens by the time George P.'s kid is sending peacekeeping forces to London. How will we rationalize ourselves?

Das Dey Culcha--Yane Gots No Rite T'Jujim

However endlessly rejected by zealots it may be, the selective nonsense of victim cultures and universal relativism has been thoroughly processed by a large segment of the reading-comprehension population. Consider the standard run of examples:
Why aren't the Chinese low-IQ in post-railroad California, why aren't the Irish unable to build household wealth after centuries of slavery at the hands of brutal Anglos, why aren't the Germans unable to hold down jobs after surviving discriminatory New York and Pennsylvania, why do female-headed governments start more wars per year of tenure, why is there a WNBA, why is there an NAACP, why is Israel's wall okay, and why do post-racial Euros defiantly remain more vulnerable to melanoma?
One avenue to go consistently overlooked is the stupid one with regards weight. Although a mere variation on the same theme, it's interesting in its own right: the inability of less mentally-abled people to process interactional safety parameters without a larger subset of visual cues from which to choose.

I'm speaking, of course, of fat rejection, or the necessity for members of low-functioning oppressed subgroups to be unable to accurately judge the positive and negative potential of an interaction without relying on accumulated cultural indicia of trustworthiness. This protected group of oppressed people lacks the ability to assess others without drawing upon their shared ethnic heritage of considering fat people slovenly and frightening. There're a few potential cartoons there; e.g., angry hicks marching with banners outside the Rainbow House, demanding that the right to use the term "fatass" is part of their identity and must be sheltered.

Obesity bears some degree of relationship to caloric consumption and other facets of bodily maintenance, as do many other aspects of appearance, to greater and lesser degrees, whether or not we now think we fully understand them. The same rules and exceptions apply, too, to sex and species, subjected to their own minimums, maximums, and means.

The newest take on tolerance, the twenty-first or twenty-second century's grand popular-philosophical conundrum, may have to complete the circuit--to return to the source, so to speak--and address the fundamental contradiction that gave relativism its jumping-off point, namely, the tolerance of intolerance. People who are intelligent enough to run full-fresh analyses of everything they encounter may have to adopt a new kind of socially correct behavior: accepting the need of lower-functioning people to form ethnic bands. The treatment that NAMs now receive, for example, may be extended to less emotionally stable Euros, out of recognition that they are not able to offer a singular assessment of every circumstance, therefore, let them have their stereotypes.

The organic stereotypes will be accurate in most cases, by their nature, which is as unpopular a statement to some people as that they will very rarely be wrong, in which case the stereotyper has committed her or his own failing--which, at a higher level of moral assessment, is a heavier wrong. Nations, neighborhoods, and bullying are all disgusting, self-contradictory, inwardly broken things, but so is misguided defecation, through which every adult has at one point passed, and yet some condemn the slower for needing their less-refined standards. The selfish mistake of the tiny percentage of decent relativists in the last century was expecting the billions of other special needs individuals to have already figured that out. To deny others the ability to discover their own means of approaching lesser conundra, which you have already mastered, is concomitantly a worse sin on your part. The honest crusaders of the relativist era were and are, therefore, the most wrong of all. Not a surprising claim in the end, for it was suggested at the beginning of all this, yet it must be the destination as well: a future where tolerating intolerance is the only socially acceptable form of tolerance.

Friday, March 11, 2016

Dumbness & Associated Pricing Ethics

To our contemplation of education, immigration, Indian call support centers, and other related subjects, we should take note of the value of stupidity. Pricing in the marketplace indeed rests on innumerable fabrications, but also innumerable realities: Stalin can only extort so much labor per peasant per calorie per hour of regenerative idleness, ergo even the cruelest tyrant will be defeated by the power of death, if he fails to minimally feed or socialize his livestock. The same principle holds true in the western rubble, where the bourgeois won't continue inventing, distracting, and micro-managing the laboring hordes unless they are provided with discernible rewards, in the form of subjective differentiations between their lot and that of the peasantry: the deluxe climate control package on the alternatively-labeled new automobile, rather than the less trinkety deluxe package on the model of six Christmases past. Without these merit badges, the middle managers remain, though, interchangeable, indispensible, until the robotic singularity's pending arrival.

In the higher seats under the colorful big top, the shenanigans still retain an ironical touch of ethics. The most loathsome, corrosive, antiproductive parasite scum--executives; legislators; bankers--have, generally, hellish times of it. Whether by self-flagellating mental compulsions to seek more prominence or by secret gentleman's agreement that one does not get out of the game except in an urn, the thoroughly remunerated are often thoroughly hard workers. A different type of work, to be certain--pompous, hyperobsessive gambling and faith-based theorycrafting; subtle social contests between deranged lunatics; the constant maintenance of deathly, pseudocarefree flair--but work nonetheless.

Take the example of two successful bank robbers. Each must painstakingly learn about possible targets, select a target, and then plan the assault itself. Each must assemble a team of horrible cronies, taking care to select highly experienced ones as well as new ones. To be part of the greater process, you must include veterans, not only to increase your chance of success, but to avoid being seen as an upstart who must be crushed for not playing along. You must also select novices, as others once did for you, because the underworld is watching to see if you're in this for the long haul. Each selection brings benefits, for veterans have done it before and may teach you a thing or two, while novices are eager--and also, their ignorance makes them suitable for taking the heat if someone needs to be pushed out of the back of the van during the escape, to distract the police and public with their ravaged corpse. And each selection comes fraught with peril, for the veterans may be planning on using you as a distracting shill, while the novices may be soft enough that they're willing to fold if any heat comes your way. And they know that you're thinking it, and you know that they're thinking it, and even though you all share distant family connections with the partner who used to work security at the place, and one partner was once an internal functionary there and knows the safety and disaster routines, you're all aware of how easy it is to destroy another man's life to save your own hide.

Stressful and time-consuming as hell, and you haven't even dress-rehearsaled the heist itself. You have to plan the drive, the movement, the taking, the escape, and the storage of the stolen cash; you have to plan how you're going to spend it later on, and how you're going to not (or actually) screw the other partners over, and how you'll be sure that so-and-so doesn't brag to his mistress and give the game away, and you know at least one of you is going to end up in an unfortunate car crash or suicide or died after a long illness. Then you do the job and the pressure shatters your mind all over again, someone goes down and you're so glad it isn't you, and the rest of your life you're wondering when everyone will figure out what you did, when someone will have an attack of conscience and spill his guts to the press, or when your old friends will, worried about your emotional stamina, ensure that you have a tragic brain hemorrhage or stress-related heart attack or untimely stroke.

And it's a lot of work. If it works out, great. Maybe the investment banker successfully gathers a coalition of investors, tosses together a hedge fund, buys off a couple directors to fake a quarterly, buys some stock, and triples his money in a month. And then he does it again, and so on, and it's eighty-hour workweeks from then on, because if you dare take your six million dollars and get a little place in the Ozarks to retire before you're at least sixty, your former associates will send someone to pay you a visit with the heart-attack needle, and the Skulls will use you as an example of why We're In This For Life.

This universal balancing act, such as it is, ensures that it is actually hard work--stress, effort, risk, etc.--to do most of those highly-paid jobs. It's bullshit, and it's performed by soytit idiots who couldn't handle a day on the assembly line, yes--but neither could the factory proles handle the kind of complex effort that goes into, say, investment banking. It pisses the proles off that a physician gets to charge a full day's wages for a 7-minute office visit, but the physician is hung up on different tenterhooks, demoraled and demoralized, and (barring tribal protections, which the real grunt doctors don't possess, in part because of university- and practice-placement, in part because of patient selectivity, and in part just because of membership) subjected to different hells, that are in their own way more troubling.

It's not fair, but it's an uncanny epiphenomenon of this socio-capitalist marketplace: the way intensity of focused, experienced effort does often line up with reward. It's like fairness--enough like fairness that a nursing student can gain experience in different hospitals and private practices, and realize, "Wow, the surgeon who, on paper, only performs three operations a week, actually does work way harder and way longer for his $460K a year than the GP who sees a hundred patients a week for a mere $98K." Powerful investment bankers can be witnessed by their secretaries, and the secretary comes in at 7, finds the boss dozing in his chair in last week's clothes, wakes him, sees him get screamed at and slapped across the head over lunch by a shadow partner from another firm, and sees him struggling to begin a fresh pile of document reviews when she goes home at 5. Yes, he's an evil bastard, and yes, he roofied that pretty intern from Duke last summer, and yes, he got a $3 million bonus last Christmas, but he works so much that she's genuinely glad, even in her retirement, that she never had his job. The work trickles through to the proles; it makes them see a workable ethical system, which they think of as "fair," and which helps them rationalize the fucked-up-ness of the greater system.

How, then, does that tie into dumbness? Well, what this one has been trying to establish here is that it is integral to this economy to maintain an appearance of fairness with regards remuneration. Dumbness is necessary for that process, and no, not the kind of dumbness that leaves someone fooled by the rentier's economy (although that's certainly important, it's not our subject here), but the kind of dumbness that makes work justifiably take longer.

Take a step lower on the scale to help illustrate this point. Imagine that I'm a physician, and I see a hundred patients a week--oh, throw that out, we already did doctors. Imagine that I'm an accountant, and I'm really an expert, and I bill private clients $400 an hour for consulting with them on tax matters. But I only meet with them a little--where I really get in my hours is talking to various financial institutions regarding my clients' paperwork. Their receipts, their inventories, their holdings, etc. What the hell makes me worth that much? And how could I possibly bill ten hours a day for a client's task, when said task actually only involves fifteen minutes of paperwork that I use a computer program for?

Easy. Presume that, to properly fill out a quarterly statement, I have to get accurate information from two banks and three companies. Five quick phone calls later, I've billed half an hour, made $200, and I'm done for the day, having earned a respectable living wage.

Enter the real world. I call the first bank. I get a computer system that puts me on hold. I listen to NPR for ten minutes. When the music ends, a woman from India, named "Susan," answers the phone. She's learned to say things like "please bear with me" and "I'll take care of that for you buddy" but she is hard to understand, and worse, despite all her multiple choice tests, she has great difficulty making out simple words even when I over-enunciate and repeat. When she figures out what I need, she doesn't have authority to access it. That thing was supposed to have been mailed out by an office in the United States. She doesn't have the authority to view what happened to it without her manager. Hold for twenty minutes. The manager makes some canned small talk like they taught him to do, struggles to understand what I'm saying to him, and then says that he can access that information only with the approval of the Blank Department, which will require a letter from me on corporate letterhead before it can act, and it will need 7-10 days business processing before I can follow up. So I write a letter and send it in three different ways and calendar a follow-up and call the next company and get forwarded to "Sam" in India, who struggles for forty minutes to figure out what my client wants before asking for permission to place me on hold for just a bit so he can get his manager to tell me how the process works to obtain authorization for taking care of that for you buddy ~

Ten hours later, four grand and start all over. And if someone were unethical, she could accomplish four or five times the amount of work in the same time by signing letters while on hold.

Sounds cruel, right? Who the hell would ever come see such a person for their taxes? Sure, a few high-net-worth families, but mostly, some corporations that have so much revenue they don't give a shit. So every year, that file earns a week of billing, fifty grand, all 100% ethical and justifiable because I really was on the phone with the same call center in India--albeit they and I were representing different companies each time. I might've been playing Candy Crush or whatever during most of the calls, or sending personal e-mails or blogging, but work is work.

And it doesn't just have to be India. That's old news, really. In Weimerica, reading comprehension ability, as well as basic kindergarten skills ability, is so bad that American call centers are little better than Indian ones. Send something on letterhead to Bank of America, wait three weeks for them to figure out where it went, send it again, and the idiots in several departments can't figure out what the language says, so they have to send it to their legal team to read the second sentence and comprehend it for them. And at the last, "Oh, yeah, they said it authorizes you to get an interest report for that year."

That's why the physician has to charge $385 for what should be a four-minute prescription refill follow-up: because half the people who schedule that meeting have a deep-seated emotional need to spend at least thirty minutes describing ephemeral "symptoms" that raise potential lines of inquiry which can't be avoided without scheduling tests and suggesting follow-ups to avoid malpractice, and then they get lost on the way to the lab across the street and it's somehow your fault, and the ER calls and wants to know why you prescribed marijuana on the same prescription slip as the Simcor, when of course you didn't, but if you don't say it was an accident he'll claim you molested him, and you'll have to waste half a day going before the board, so you apologize and tell your PA not to schedule him again if at all possible. Spread it across everyone since the insurance companies don't let you selectively bill retards and/or assholes, and bam, it's $385 for four minutes.

Yes, they are actually that dumb, and yes, the costs are built into everything. The Pentagon's $800 toilet seat lid is a screaming injustice, but it's not merely a ripoff of a toilet-seat purchaser. It's a bottleneck accumulation of the tax-justifying ripoff that provides for the general stupidity fund. The industrial revolution scared them, scared them terribly; they've been doing everything they can to slow things down in a plausible way. Faster microchips paired with Indian call centers. Huh? And who's paying so many of the bills? Microsoft-as-company deals with all the bourgeois and petty-elite professionals whose ridiculous occupations, and profits, are justified by the need to interact with the stupid rituals and hapless masses that Microsoft worked to create. You're peddling the bike uphill, and fat Microsoft is sitting on your back screaming at you to go faster while pouring an increasing stream of glue and pebbles into the chains. The plausibility, and the decaying productivity of everyone's job depends on the mad illusion that it still takes effort.

Perhaps if we were better, we'd be willing to admit we're no longer needed in some things, and that it's time for us to do better ones. If I'm the accountant in the above example, and Microsoft is one of my firm's clients, then Microsoft is paying those ridiculous bills, a thousand times higher than they should be, to deal with the legislative hurdles, offshoring incompatibilities, and ritual corpocracies that they themselves created. It's like Dick Cheney and the invasion of Iraq: that vile creature did immense damage to the world, and to the more localized part of the world in which he lived, by doing that, and his lesbian legacy may die in a nuclear war with Russia that arises, in part, out of the latest Middle East adventure. And yet he did it--is he really so stupid that he believed the relative short-term gain he experienced (some more oil money, say, when he was already filthy rich before) was worth the hellish intra-elite competition to be part of another Iraq War? The everdeath urge, the purest and most definitive evil, trumps political economy again. Microsoft screws itself in the interest of ending all beginnings.

It is your naive, final hope, and evil's own cunning pretense, that evil drinks the blood of the weak merely to achieve carnal pleasure.

Wednesday, March 9, 2016

The Utility of Beyond

In Every Child Fed, we discussed an idea since pseudo co-opted by the elites that be. Really, they're tricky bastards--don't post anything on the internet unless you want them to steal it, change the lyrics a little bit, and give it to some hacks from Zionwood or Liverpool or somewhere to regurgitate for profit. I mean, you'd think that such a hyper-sappy idea would've been a given in the age of the Gates Foundation, where literal, not conservative cuckooery is practiced for reasons more nefarious than Aztlan. "More gibs" could hardly be more honestly expressed than "cradle to grave free nutrition, housing, and medical care," and yet, they had to rip it off. The great policy triumphs of liberalism could never have happened without plagiarizing the hypothetical snowball-effect examples of conservatives; e.g., the inexorable trend to shoot oneself in the foot by saying, "Gay marriage? Are you kidding? How about sibling marriage or equine marriage, while we're at it?" Where do you think they get their ideas? They're not self-generated. The entertainment world is kept alive not only by cannibalizing Shakespeare or the Greek Myths, and remixing remixes for variant rap, but by fresh infusions of "rejected" script submissions, composer's webpages, writer's workshops, and the like. Absent reading fanfic forums to acquire a new Extraterrestrial Romance genre title that "gets kids reading" (Random House: contact me and I'll write all six books ahead of time, not get emotional when they have to be edited due to popular demand, create and train the actress who will portray me at conventions, way more cheaply and plausibly than the last guy) or whatever, the best they can do is smudges of color. More than location-tracking and employment-punishing via phones and social networks, the internet ensures a steady supply of monkeys on typewriters, always producing something that can be repackaged profitably after a trip through the boiler rooms of little white hip hop sound engineers and deputy assistant screenwriters.

As a fictional blog, far be it for this one to comment on politics, but for purposes of more Arken analogies, let us discuss more of the workings of the Every Child Fed program from my extragalactic reincarnation. How did it work? Firstly, High Arka was an actual old-fashioned nation, which we didn't think about at the time, and which I still don't often think about. Everyone had, e.g., yellow hair (not blond/blonde, but sorta sun-colored), and was essentially post-Bazin Barian, which is way more scifi race realism than you want. There were Bajirins too, though in really small numbers. So there's that--minimal demographic variation, compared to Terra--if you think it affects the social cohesiveness attendant to the feasibility of any mandatory social support network.

More importantly for maintaining Arka, though, was Beyond. This was the functional, non-ironic name given to the majority of the planet's surface which was not guarded by any nation state (and at that point, there were only two left, High Arka and Jhing-fut). Consisting of more than half, maybe even 60-70% of the territory, Beyond was always available to us, and it worked great. Think "anarchy zone," except its physical majority made it the neutral, and the formal civilizations, rather, the "zones."

What was Beyond? The un-governed space. The perfect answer to so many social problems and political disagreements. No more morality over death penalties, repeat violent offenses, et cetera: the punishment is only freedom, freedom in Beyond. Not interested in taxes or public art or decorum or whatever? No coercion involved; just go to Beyond. Confident that society sucks and you want to make your own way? Beyond. Murder? Beyond. Too many disruptions in the cafeteria? Beyond. Passionately believe government is evil? Beyond. Pyramid scheme? Beyond.

Again, I took it for granted, but being here has been so useful in appreciating Beyond. All the anarchists, the libertarians, etc., had no ammo in Arka. Here, on Terra, there's nowhere you're actually allowed to escape to. International waters are controlled, settlement in the last few (highly environmentally hostile) unclaimed areas is prohibited by military force, ergo the entire globe is effectively under bank dominion. "Go to Liberia" or "Go to Afghanistan" doesn't work, since there are governments there, and the areas are so comparatively small. Beyond was mostly "under" populated, for obvious reasons of organizational cohesiveness failing to provide long-term stability. Plenty of people could find a homestead or fortify a freehold and live long and happy and alone, occasionally visiting the fam back home. And there were cool wild-west-type towns, and shit like that, with all the attendant danger spiced by excitement. (Like, teenage or senior sex was cooler there, and you could break IP laws without actually breaking them.)

Society was no longer a dungeonmaster, a torturer, or a murderer. The nations' comparatively modest claims had settled the issue. Sure, there were mini-nations formed in Beyond, and it had its own petty warlords, but they were free, and they tore themselves down before very long, over and over the centuries, and they weren't able to do stuff like develop the equivalent to "nukes" or whatever else is supposed to be scary now. You could go and come freely, subject to actual-border-type security, if you weren't an exile.

The axiomatic principle of leaving Beyond as Beyond was easy to teach and maintain; it underlay the moral claims of any national action, and of the freedom to go and live. The legitimacy of the whole world system depended on it. So easy to take for granted until you do a life here, where no one has a good answer to any of the most basic governmental questions. "Intervention" in Beyond was unthinkable. Its dangerous individual freeness contrasted with the safe communal responsibility of the nation state. There was no Rousseauian v. Bastiatan trend corroding society--Rousseau's Clintonian preference to hellishly rob, abuse, and micromanage human lives, v. Bastiat's Randish hypocritical subsidized marketplace--because the ending of those many arguments had already been settled. (When Arka did fall, it was begun and imposed internally. They didn't get us in the way being used here.)

A beyond would do great here, given the centuries of work to install. We fantasize about space exploration so much here, perhaps not only because of an intrinsic interest in looking around at cool stuff, but because the potential of a place for non-fit-ins to go is of priceless value. Like with Every Child Fed, it's hard to imagine how well it worked. And looking back, this one can certainly acknowledge that full national care wouldn't have worked without Beyond as an alternative option. Would-be non-payers and random thugs alike shared a common interest and a common destination...and as with the "total social welfare" aspect of things, the availability of Beyond put a pre-emptive end to so much worthless shit...social cohesion was, compared to here, off the charts, and the actual use (and potential use) of exile kept repeat violence minuscule and instantly solvable, while the corresponding possibility of subsidizing overbreeding trash through total social welfare went down, because all the behaviors that broken, benefits-abusing populations can engage in rampantly here, resulted in fast diminishment and near-elimination due to the availability of Beyond--which reduced, with similar vastness, the numbers of people upset about paying.

Saturday, March 5, 2016

Hollow Scarecrows: Dilbert...Trump?

A Critical Overview of Dilbert

The Dilbert guy, Scott Adams, has been an interesting chunk of pop culture. Whether he intended to or not--or rather, whether he was intended to, or not--he's been a great trend capturer, in the sense that he brands himself as the originator of trends he didn't create (in a more specific way than we all do). He's the humble voice of office dissent from the cubicle, who takes credit for originating the gossip-cum-revenue that he sketched out of coffee-room & mailed-in anecdotes (great business, bad art [not in the sense of bad illustration, which is of suitable quality for newspaper/online comics of the local twenty-first]).

Does he believe, like Rowling believes, that it was his unique genius or hard work that caused United Media to select him as Anti-Establishment Cartoonist #1,468 in 1989? He's probably aware that he's part of some long tradition of serfs hating their overseers while themselves venerating the feudal system, and its imaginary gods, which is why he has no problem being such an effective capitalist now that he has the capital to go with his lack of scruples. And good for him! Like all soulrotted jesters, any seeming mistake he makes can be rationalized as mere performance heart, which he employed only as a Rorschach, and which he doesn't stand behind.

In that regard, Adams has always been a useful barometer. (And a fun one, to be sure. Like the stereotypical traveling critic--a Seinfeld or a Bacharach--it's fun, in its own little way, to watch someone mock the rabble, and the ways that they deal with the rituals governing their lives. It's conducive to myopia, delusions of grandeur, and all the other things from which we already suffer in the soulless Orioccident, and unlike Rowling, Scott Adams really puts on a good show--although, unlike Rowling, he already told his last joke in the early nineties, and there's nothing more for CEO Voldemort to do.

The fact that United Media began publishing Adams' pseudo-anti-corporate stuff at the inception of full American hegemony--as H.W. Bush fought to keep Venona from public knowledge, so that people wouldn't realize the Soviets had won in 1945--telegraphs elite intentions to use Dilbert as controlled opposition to the catastrophic inanities of modern gulag life. Like Venona, the bullshittery of progress-impeding corporate culture had been known to its orchestrators the entire time, and like Bush's stifling of Yeltsin's offers to return aging POWs, Dilbert was pressure-release; repainting the Bastille without storming it, to use Enlightenment-preferred language. Ever since Adams' comic became another emblematically non-rebellious American rebellion, in which nothing is done but much is purchased, and Adams proved himself to be a money-hungry marketer rather than someone who cared to help non-selves, the bland, salmon-colored-hotel-curtains nature of tweaking Middle Management's nose has proven itself as manageable as Paul McCartney or American Beauty. Adams melded perfectly with the establishment, parroting ineffectual self-help books, and the kind of neurotic, faux-self-deprecating Freudian humor that Woody Allen uses as an inside stab against high-trust societies.

Like Rowling, his critique of muggles and employees, dark wizards and chief executives, had nothing behind it: now the establishment himself, he's a hollow scarecrow; neither destroyer nor builder on the battlefield of life, but the foulest survivor hidden in plain sight; the looter who picks through the bodies while scathing the worthlessness of bravery on either side. A post among the new anti-PC PC is his reward for not rocking the boat. He dabbles in paranormal studies, economic predictions, and social commentary, but all with the shield of being a mere entertainer who cannot be held accountable for his views, since everything's just a joke. Like Arka said, "It's just a blog, man--stop harshing my buzz."

Overton Signaling Through Selected Entertainment

Adams, throughout his public career, has been useful. He's kind of the "right wing" version of JK Rowling, in that, when he says something, you know it's the media-acceptable way of being rightist, just like Rowling does the opposite for the left. When Rowling says something, you know it's been manured to well-meaning perfection. She was too dimwitted to have introduced openly gay characters when she actually wrote her book--all she remembered to do was to add a couple token Blacks and an Asian or two--but after she'd fallen safely into the spotlight, she retroactively turned Hogwarts into a multikulti safe space that she dearly, dearly wished she'd actually written it as back when it would've almost been edgy to have done so. (Of course, it would've raised more cultural challenges to Potter's early widespread distribution, so maybe Rowling is more intelligent and more evil than I've given her credit for. That, or she's just vacuous. My pretend-money's on the latter, given that a more intelligent, more evil person would've had trouble suffering through the vacuity of producing so much Potter, which is why they hired Rowling to do it.)

Adams, the Overton's counterpart pseudo-rightist representative, has offered useful counterpart signaling throughout his career. Whenever he took notice of something, it was a sign that it became publicly acceptable to take notice of it. Media corporations honored his strip by selecting it as one of the first venues to begin releasing the pressure of political correctness. Others had done it before, both more mildly and stronger, but were ignored or demolished; when Dilbert did it, it was a sign that the elite message was changing--neither courageous nor innovative, but safely sanctioned, just like when Rowling postliterhumously outed Dumbledore. Similarly, Adams' critiques of white middle managers, and his championing of salaried white engineers, seemed--like Marxism, a.k.a. fool's anticapitalism--to be a rebellious position, but was actually a more effective condemnation of actual people than the supposed status quo. Ultimately, early Dilbert and Wally spent more time goofing off and avoiding work than they did resisting corporate directives, and their performances justified more condemnation of them and those like them than they did empathy or reward--unless you're a lazy ferret yourself. Calling Dilbert a blow against unfair management is like calling Animal House a blow against college administration--the deeper message in each case is that the students/employees are lazy fools anyway, so burn it all down. In America, that's a temptingly appropriate message, unless you're cognizant of actual people trying to actually do well by actually producing useful things, in order that they can feed themselves and maintain a healthy society. Haha, yeah, those damned uppity college students take the path of least resistance, and they're always getting involved in "movements" and stuff. But why should enjoyment, camaraderie, learning, and the desire and ability to positively influence the world be scorned? The primary effectiveness of putting evil academics into Weimerican universities wasn't radicalizing students, but in causing non-students to reject the healthy, natural urges that the academics had misdirected.

That was Marx' trick, too. By blaming all capital for the actions of finance capital, Marx used the vile actions of his "French" and "British" financial cronies to slur the reputation of industrial capitalists, thereby encouraging people to take out their wrath on local manufacturers or artisans who saved money earned from direct personal transactions in useful goods, rather than distant policymakers who acquired rents through taxes and trade policy. The Dilbert scheme, like Portlandia and countless other modern satires selected and promoted by the great Zionist media companies, sold itself as a redemption of the American worker, while actually portraying the crumbling American economy as being due to SWPL crap, rather than showing the truth: that the goldbricking, the goofing off, the micromanaging, the team-building retreats, et cetera, were all the logical and necessary responses to fiscal and social policies crafted at the highest levels of corporate and political governance. SWPLs don't simply appear out of nowhere; they appear when their freedoms of movement, association, and other behavior have been so restricted that stuff like kayak-signaling is all they have left. God knows I enjoy a kayak-signaling joke as much as the next goy, but the world is more complex than that.

The Staged Trump?

The latest American presidential election has offered a counter-Hussein effect, in that Donald Trump's suggestion of turning back the 1965 Displacement Immigration Act seems like a genuine challenge to the War Party. His occasional hints that he wouldn't be guided by AIPAC into continuing imperial warfare, and the resulting blowback from confirmed sellouts and war criminals everywhere, suggests that there is something positive about a Trump presidency. The prospects of not initiating another world war, not committing another Fallujah, and not blockade-starving another million Africans, are massively impressive ones, whatever else one might think about "student loan debt" or other comparatively minor stuff.

Adams, though, has become something of a Trump supporter. And as one of the subtlest barometers out there (his career is really well designed for reaching a certain type of Outer Party member; particularly if you read current business and investment stuff, Adams is as much of an operative for some people as that Daily Kos creature is for others), Adams' somewhat-endorsement is interesting for what it may reveal about the outcome planned for Trump. Recently, Adams approvingly reprinted this letter from one of his fans, calling it "beautiful":
To: President Trump

From: Just a simple man

I’ve been following your campaign since your announcement, reading millions of words written about you, watching thousands of hours of video and speeches, listening to many talk radio show segments, and engaging in dozens of debates with people around me.

No candidate has ever captured my attention the way you have.

Now that it’s clear you will be the Republican nominee, I want to share with you something so personal, painful, and uplifting, that I almost don’t want to write it, but I will anyway…trolls be damned:

My whole life, up until yesterday, has been based on reaction to fear.

Growing up as a black man in Washington D.C. during the “crack 80’s”, when Marion Barry was mayor, I lived a lower middle class childhood in one of the most dangerous cities in America. Though I had many friends, I was also subject to the threats, intimidation, and bullying that happens when you’re not like the people around you.

There was no father in my life to steel me against the world I lived in. My mother was strong, but it’s not exactly the kind of strength I needed. I was a boy, and needed a Man.

Without strong male guidance, I learned to fear…but not how to face fear and win. Even joining the military and going to war didn’t overcome my weakness, and all my future decisions considered strongly the level of fear I had at the time.

As a result, my life has been full of conflict, as I have unintentionally signaled to adversaries that I am an easier opponent to beat than others. I have won victories, but never truly enjoyed them knowing the battle is never won for me…only endured. I have also suffered crushing defeats, and important people in my life lost confidence in me as a result. I have not reached my potential, and settled instead into apathy and stasis, content to only being “smart enough” or “good enough”…not great. Not strong. Not resolute…

Not a leader. Not a winner.

My life, in many important ways, mirrors the American experience. Potential to be great, but paralyzed by fear. Full of conflict. Enduring, not winning. No leadership. No strong Male inspiration. And occasional, crushing defeats that hit to the core of our country…most notably 9/11, but also with the erosion of our middle class and uniquely American culture.

Like you say so often: we don’t WIN anymore.

Watching your campaign, and being as invested in it as I am, has been an exercise in recognizing, and confronting, fear that I never expected. Every time your opponents hit you…I feel fear for your candidacy and our country. Every charge of racist, sexist, facist, etc. causes me to worry that no one, not even you, can really change the country for the better. That we’re doomed to failure…

Then…inevitably…you win the battle. You don’t “survive”, or “endure”…you attack, and put fear into your opponents. You don’t stop until they are buried under your feet. Until they become paralyzed…

Sometimes, you even bait them into hitting you, just so you can beat the crap out of them again. Your life is full of conflict, but it becomes yet another opportunity to WIN, and makes you MORE powerful…not less.

Then, once they are eliminated as a threat, you are generous to the vanquished. It’s not personal, and they are not evil. They were, simply…in the way. Once they are not, they become worthy of kindness and respect.

Furthermore, you’re not just a blunt instrument…your strategy is impeccable. You go into every conflict knowing exactly what your opponents weaknesses are, how to exploit them, and what levers to pull to ensure victory. Clearly, you spend good time before announcing your candidacy doing the things the military taught me as a young soldier: surveying, recon, intelligence-gathering, ammunition, discipline, execution…

You are defending America from our enemies within, and it’s an AMAZING thing to watch.

Last night, you also did something else. You became the Man that helped me see fear for what it is: an illusion of power, a powerful teacher, and the path to winning if used properly. There is no reason, regardless of the enormity of the task, to lose to fear if you prepare well, are disciplined in your execution, and have the faith necessary, in God, yourself, and in others…that leads to victory.

Winning is always possible, but becomes probable if you never back down, never quit, and become your dominant self. Once the battle is won, treat the vanquished with kindness and respect. Be the bigger man.

You taught me how to Win.

I appreciate what you’ve done for me personally, and what you’re doing for our country. I know I’m not the only man who admires you, and can’t wait for you to become the father, and leader, of our country. It’s been a long, cold winter for men in America the last 8 years, and I believe that your election will dramatically improve the level of respect, admiration, and love people will show for strong men and Fathers, and will create a new generation of leaders from impressionable young boys.

That, more than anything, will Make America Great Again.

Even if you like everything about Trump, that presentation should give you pause. Firstly, it's fake--whether faked by an actual fan of Adams, or by Adams himself as a ploy, or by a clever anti-Trump blogger trying to feed Adams the perfect setup. The pacing, the subject matter, the careful yet brief summary of confessional life experience followed by revelation followed by salvation: it's so clever that it forgot to be clever, in that it hit every high point so properly it reeks of plastic. Weimericans are adapting themselves to think and communicate like screenwriters, but most of them can't do it nearly this well. The person who composed it isn't a master, though; he thought the occasional use of ellipses would translate into "Uncertainty...just like a real person would write!" but he was wrong. (Of course, when you're targeting Outer Party, you don't want to write like a master, since Outer Party sneers at genuine Prole dialect, so I conditionally withdraw my judgment, if that was the intention.)

Secondly, the "be the father I never had" thing reeks of Big Brother. Is this meant to suggest that Trump is going to fail because he's just an Alpha player who's gaming the White nationalists of America, but wiser minds will see through him? Was the letter meant to suggest that Trump is not a real leader, but a daddy-substitute for the androgynous soydudes of rapeistan? That kind of emotionally insecure plea may stir the hearts of Weimerica's benighted betas, while signaling to the more intelligent--historians of next century, if not political analysts of next year--that Trump, and everything he was about, were manifestations of inner failure, rather than results of coherent policy decisions made by thinking groups.

In presenting this letter, did Adams mean to cunningly denigrate support for Trump? Is he such a good operative that he wants Outer Party to think Trump is a mere security blanket for the sick? If so, that cuts in Trump's favor, because it means the elite is actually scared.

Or, is Adams actually that sappily stupid, and he thinks that it's good for atomized postmodern androgynes to empathize with a state-based father figure like Big Brother, who will scare away all the monsters from under the bed? That's fine, because Adams and his readers could be that dim, without it affecting Trump.

Worst of all would be if Adams is clever, and is using this to stir up excited Proles and Outer Party in support of that father figure, because Trump is the new Big Brother, and we're supposed to accept him that way, even if we're not so broken inside that we need Daddy Mao to punish us because we've been bad.

Let's close with some general Trump questions:

Is Trump, with substantial Zionist connections and a shiksa daughter, another candidate for Saudi Israelia, meant to set back BDS and BRICS by using feigned nationalism to bring Russia around to the Zionist point of view? Is the Zionist/establishment media ferocity against him (which is admittedly childish and overwrought) being performed on purpose to inspire potential dissidents to cotton to someone whose anti-immigrant Cheka will ultimately vanish local troublemakers under the cover of deporting illegals?

In this possibility, Trump is just another step higher up the dictator staircase than Bush or Obama. Like Obama used his sort-of blackness to make himself seem like a rebellion against Bush's cowboy bullshit, Trump's rich WASPness counters Obama, while increasing executive power. The gradual democratic transition to totalitarianism achieves another step, yawn.

Is Trump a Manchurian candidate unaware of his own purpose? E.g., does he actually believe in everything he's saying/doing, but he's being permitted to defeat cardboard opposition because Saudi Israelia has realized that North Brazil won't be able to fund its genocide like the U.S. was? In this possibility, Saudi Israelia is willing to accept resurgent Europeoid nationalism because it knows it needs perpetual annuities in the quantity that only Europeoid nations can generate. Trump will build a border wall and a thriving economy so that Saudi Israelia can keep leeching money off a wealthy U.S., tricking NATO into massacring this or that Arab population, etc., and in return, America will be permitted freedom of speech and association again.

This possibility seems unlikely, because They know that such nationalism would create confidence sufficient to soon cut off the leeching, leaving Saudi Israelia prey for Nemesis.

Or is Trump actually Trump, a rich but currently-honest bastard who actually saw an underserved market of voters and went for it? And, once he takes office and gets let in on all the super-secret spy-things that Presidents know, will he suddenly realize the unspeakable necessity of garrisoning the world and building wood-frame subdivisions in Gaza, and it'll be just like everyone else who was president before? And if he realizes he can't do anything with the Fed still there, will he try to remove it, and a new John Hinckley, Jr. will need to be tapped to clear him out?

And are they considering letting John Hinckley, Jr. out just in case Trump wins? What movie will they pretend he was inspired by this time? "I was trying to impress Optimus Prime"?

Tuesday, March 1, 2016

Sacred Cows and Unpleasant Pills

Haha, lol, smdh, omg, those dumbass feminists, didn't they realize that their delusions about "smashing the patriarchy" were destroying the very thing that protected them from the hordes of rapefugees? They completely deserve it now as they watch all of their Marxist propaganda get shoved back up their cunts by the diversities who want to put them in ghost costumes and fuck them when they're preteens and demolish all of their atheist social justice crap.

The cucked Christians, god, what idiots, too. They think that adopting third-world youfs will work out great except that when those youfs grow up they rove the neighborhood raping eighty-year-old women and converting to Gangstarap or Islam and not doing one good turn for another. And the fags! Haha, omg, don't even get me started on the fags. Do they seriously think the American Caliphate will sanction their civil unions? They'll be praying for Jefferson Davis to ride into town on a gleaming stallion and reimpose Lawrence v. Texas right away. "Please, 1950s, save us!" they'll cry. And then everyone will come begging back to the white patriarchs to save the day.

The generic liberals are all on the fag program too. Hugh Hefner's broken life of massive Viagra, gay porn, and a bunch of prostitutes laughing behind his back while they ride his half-turgid cock proves what a failure the sexual revolution was. Society is crumbling, IQ is dropping, and the idiocracy is basically here, since the people so stupid that they still go to McDonald's are at least bright enough to select their menu items from the self-serve touchscreen, negating the need for an employee with sub-DMV literacy skills to use the touchscreen for them. Soytits Zuckerberg will infect China like a rat jumping off a sunken ship, leaving behind the ruined United States of North Mexico, and then rugged men will take over and have an American renaissance. All of your stupid Marxist narratives are crumbling.

At least the manly white men, the few of them who are left, never fell for that shit. They never fell for pandering low-IQ faggot narratives designed for their demographic. True men have withstood the invasion of cultural Marxism and stand by to save the day. They still have bastions of hope.

Like James Bond. What could be more heroic than a guy who travels the world assassinating people on behalf of Israel, removing threats to the international financial order, and sleeping with random sluts? What could be more masculine and western than being too much of a cowardly shit to ever have and support a family, never growing up, like a Peter Pan in a twelve-year-old world of punches and pussy, disrupting whatever the Zionists want disrupted to ensure that nationalist movements fail to develop among the Slavs, Aryans, Arabs, or Mongols, which might threaten Greater Israel? It is truly a noble white nationalist model to emulate, being an "alpha" who grooms himself as impeccably as a homosexual, wears an endless succession of butch twink haircuts, and is out busy spoiling every white uterus and womb he can, fostering a pointless below-replacement-rate existence while, back home, well-behaved multiculturals have already had ten kids ready to sign up for NHS. Thank God you stopped that Russian separatist from doing something that might harm Turkey's regional ambitions, 007!

Oh God, it smarts, don't it, to realize that if you fell for James Bond the "masculine" ideal, you're just the preferred Zionist version of a cat lady? "Buh-but, buh-but, he, he PUNCHES people and has SEX and GUNS so that muh-means he's a, a manly PATRIARCH!" Shut yourself up in sterile Neverland, you righteous gentile you, vicariously screwing pointlessly, like the 1965 immigration reform writ large across how many white women? Awww, but sometimes he fought darkies, and he had such a NICE accent and was so HANDSOME and had such nice TUXEDOS. The bitter truth is that Bond is a marketing product designed to appeal to the most negative parts of pro-Zion-you, just like the independence of being a miserable cat-lady virgin with her very own pension was designed to appeal to women of the twentieth.

They can keep replacing actors to make you think you're never going to hit the wall, and you can idealize the classic bonds if you want, like a bitter strumpet recalling her carousel peak. Yeah, you just keep watching those old Blu-Rays, thinking, "Those were the days, men were men," you suffragette, you.

And where would the real Bond be now? Unknown, unloved, pozzed up in a state-run nursing home for military veterans, being taken care of by morbidly obese diversities who aren't even educated well enough to wipe his ass or clean his bedsores. But at least he has his memories of being a stud, and at least he has those commendations from Tony Blair and Benjamin Netanyahu sitting on his nightstand, permanently stained by circles of moisture from the undersides of the plastic drinking cups they use when helping him get down his morning pills.