a

Hey, Miss Winona---

Hey, ya' lil' minx!! You're the wonderful, casual lil' punk-rock urchin who inspired what was essentially just a "zine" of bit-bop-boop Nintendo-lad fantasy, a glorified version of something-- maybe? that I saw and idealized years ago with those magical, whimsical, and correct things-- like holding yer lil' hand when you went driving around night after night on the streets of Los Angeles, in need of A FRIEND-- "and thinking no one would understand". Sometimes it's just like SKETCHING, or drawing cartoons, or having A GREAT TIME-- and the thought that I was making you glow and perhaps sharing **a very special connection** is what kept me goin', like some awesome night down as "THE SNAPPY SNACK SHACK" but having **more heart** then ole' "Devil Brows" (E.G. Christian Slater). So talkin' to me would kind of have the feelin'-- and I remember this scene from a magazine article some place-- of when you and your kindred spirits (family?) were hanging out by a pinball machine in your brother's comic book shop with bonded punk bon-zoid "blood on blood" familiarity as the silver ball kicked between the bonus bumpers like delightful, chaotic Californian youth. Quick-silver/ink-injected dreams like panels, a comic book curio of a quasi-plastered 3-D moment in sight, sound, and soda-straw-sipped hearing with fizz-bubbles of a delightful kooky-grrrrlll's outlook on things like licorice n' Martian antenna. So c'mon gal. . . . . . I think "I got 'yo numbah". And if you "have mine", feel completely comfortable givin' me a ring for a bit o' small talk n' bonus bumper delight as the pin-ball flippers punch outward once-- twice-- thrice-- with fun, desultory gamesmanship and enthusiasm "in wonder of you". Fries will be provided; and ketchup on request!!!!!!

-- Fan-Boy #1

. . . . . .

                 

And did I ever let you know how much of a nifty companion you'd be as well?

You always struck me as a survivor "who went through a lot"-- fragile yet strong, as things would be with the depressive, restless tension-- hoping "for catharsis"-- whether down at the New Left "summer-camp" or searching for the perfect role.

You have a lot of energy, spark, and intensity-- and like that lil' red Kaballah string tied around your finger as a reminder as a magic portal "to another world", yet A CONDUIT TO THE ONE SHIMMERING, FLOWING, LEAPING EXISTENCE DOWN HERE.

Beyond "the roles written for you" comes the act of Navaho sand paintings, WAR (THE PROCESS) of sketching out with paint, feathers, and sticks-- Shaman Medicine Woman, hugging the bare mane of the Pinto medicine horse as yo' TRAIN BEYOND SOLARIS, or maybe Alpha Centauri-- or whatever magical shot-arrow constellation like a tossed, scattered handful of blue-white fire gems burning cold n' pure down in the black rest of inter-steller space like the night of your beautiful eyes.

(Picasso plays "a lute")

The Five Finger-Splay of Flamenco Geetar in a Spanish Beestro, the Bullfights n' a Seniorita throwing a bouqet of flowers to Senor Vaquerro. . . . . .

U Sizzle!!

-- #1 Fan-Boy of da' Asphalt JUNGLE

http://www.usatoday.com/news/nation/2011-01-06-omaha-gunman_N.htm

Dear Miss Winona,

Well, well-- doodley-fuck for jerkity-jerk "fun, outgoing" lil' school-shooter(shitter) punk, sonoffa-detective who either may or may not have been readin' my site AND BEEN PUSHED OFF THE EDGE. Odds are, the lil' asshole couldn't even read-- at least "not all that much" and was up to some fukin' malarkey-- takin' out against sum bullshit authority FIGURES-- when even so, in my life-- there were folks I HAD FAR MORE LICENSE TO KILL yet didn't "with enough good, positive countervening forces". . . . . SO YOU DON'T NEED TO. If there "be a spate", "a spasm" of whatever AS I TELL IT LIKE IT IS, then so be it-- "a little bit of pain" saves A WHOLE HELL OF WORSE, ROTTED PAIN LATER "when you don't put on the sting of peroxide" applied via cotton-swab SO THE PATIENT DOESN'T DIE-- or at least need to get limbs amputated "as it was" back in days before disinfectant, OR EVEN ANESTHESIA such as in our AMERICAN CIVIL WAR (-- the one in the 19th century, I mean). Tell it to James Mangold. Or even Darren Arronosky. (Jew-faggots!!)

Check this out. . . . .

$$$ Job fair Table $$$

"Wavy Gravy" was a tragic, foolish figure raised in the world of daffy New York/New Jersey assumptions where there was always some deeper, nestled "layer of avoidance"-- perchance to GET OUT of the essential TRAGIC FACT of his condition, being "a clown" without the slightest whiff of credibility as he was buffeted around this world and seen as a charming, if insufferable "jester" n' "laughing-stock" many of the kind-hearted were so good to humor on the Scooby-Doo Magical Mystery Machine of life, there with the painted van and casual, groovy idiocy of free love, communal drugs, "and a lot of good will" as they wandered about on many "an enchanted adventure". However, what should happen in case "things get serious" beyond the party, and it turns to a world of dog-eat-dog survival, whatever the chimera "of some dawning age of Aquariaus" when all of a sudden they encounter the void of the world, or even the one that exists "deep inside themselves" and what that says about the essential "nature of life" beyond this juvenile 1960's cartoon. The world turns on them, or perchance "they turn on each other" with the brutality of that social gold of "hip, cool aplomb" as greed is made manifest by the hard, cynical calculations "of scarcity" and brutal co-option by pirates n' marauders of the festival fields.

I remember growing up as that young, cautious subterraean "Quasimodo" and how I related to the world was through an object, say a cartoon or picture-- placed in front of me "that would roll like a film-strip" as I observed & studied & cataloged "with a charmed, forgiving SUSPENSION OF BELIEF" for the hokey, far-fetched artifact that was as merciful toward me as I hoped others would be forgiving "for the essential pathos" of my station. I had lots of imagination-- particularly in the way in which "I could stack up these ideas" to form a zany pattern to keep myself entertained, down there "in the ole' basement of mind" with the resignation of our "Gateway City's backwater labyrinths". With my Asberger's Syndrome-- or strange, oddly quirky/obsessive ways in which I strained through the outside through my filters of alternative perception, you would begin to form titanic mental landscapes "of how the world worked", of somewhat STILTED on a practical give-n'-take basis with others.

Sometimes folks would treat ya' "like you were slow, dumb, n' fat"-- or stupid, or mischaracterize "because you weren't good with words"-- and you'd figure out, like a lurking, subterranean creature "how to game the system" TO GET A COOKIE like either whacking on the side "of a juke-box" in order to get the damn thing to play the song ya' wanted. . . . . or how to cheat the vending machine of life "or at least your mother's pantry" as the slyest, most mulling, manipulative BASTARD ON EARTH. Whatever the squawks, or the bleats-- "you'd smirk to yourself" then withdraw as your meanest, most sullen little boy on earth who saw the temperamental rotteness "of ALL sugared-over promises". . . . . especially those that really didn't seem to apply to HIM whatever the pestiferious dancing n' veil-waving "by the Kandy-Kikes".

A penny is minted n' stamped "and just is what it is". It was cast that way "as its soul of value" that may go up or down "relative to the inflated value of speculators" or changing economic conditions, "but it is what it is". You may stretch the penny and stamp it with "A Loyal Hebrew-American U.S.A" as it thinks "it must please", or attempt to alter its chemical composition with acid n' Bunsen burners; but the penny must ask, "what say do I have in this"? Coins are stamped by the U.S. mint for the purpose of commerce n' trade-- by man, for man, to the whims of man. But a human being answers not to the government nor to the whim of sniping, grueling, "trash-Jew" grotesques BUT TO THE CREATOR. Beyond governments, the bug-eyed ADL, or my stupid fucking mother-- the all-father in the sky, as Wotan stands taller than the highest mountain there with his arms crossed-- heaving with laughter there in a horned helmet "as the lowly and money-minded" sniff around the ground for money, turds, and snails if not "quibbling over self-tilted Constitutional law" as Ragnar eyes them with sly signficance and booms down the thunder of shield-clashed eternities against thy forked snake's tongue.

4

However, ole' Ragnar Redbeard or Long-John Silver (-- "long" for tales he tells, "Silver" after ole' teenaged Johnny Tremain the apprentice who had his hand disfigured in in a clumsy shop accident) is always kind to lil' stowaways. To be lost, young, confused, or scared-- well, that's a feeling HE KNOWS VERY WELL and probably, ultimately shaped his Fascistic outlook on life.

St. Louis city is a land of pirates, drunks, n' fly-by-night SHITBAGS with the endless cavalcade o' pathetic scandal that flies out of the local paper, as opposed to who THE S.S. really were, Hitler's 20th century version "of the Knights Templar" whom lived by the highest moral and intellectual principles "rooted down in the CAVERN OF SKULLS" whom marched forward like tramping soldiers of death and liquidated "THE LESSER" in their path. Were they "bad" men? More like "hard" men. . . . . which ultimately scares the lesser amongst us with their rationalized, dodgy, in-born malelvolence. However, women love 'em-- especially if they'll take 'em. It is the ritual in conquered societies for the gals to throw flowers in the streets before the on-coming victors who in grace, courtesy, and bowing nobility-- intermarries with these gorgeous ladies and produces A NEW PEOPLE through the process of assimlilation.

It would be a very classically GERMANIC TALE reaching into the depths of Jungian subconscious about a wonderful, lost little girl who threw a key out the window of a castle "and a young village boy" looked up at the spire, and knew that he must rescue her. "Lydia's key". . . . . is the one he uses to unlock deeper and deeper levels inside of himself of creativity and the magical woman-spirit of creation inherent in plants and winding vines n' flowers that may grow up the side of "Lydia's castle" and gain him reconnection to his lost, golden unity of a happy inner child "where Winona will be waiting".

(-- Not bad for a half-Jewish "bullshit artist")

There was a line somewhere in Oliver Stone's movie about Richard Nixon where the looming, churning, iceberg ballet "of greatness" opposed to the gibing pitch-fork "of this man's demons" were swirling about with great portentiousness and the actor who played Henry Kissinger gravely intoned "what this man would have been HAD HE BEEN LOVED". Whatever the self-seriousness of Mr. Stone's moral and "artistic license", once you figure out how to frame this scene as a self-parodying caricature it's the funniest thing in the entire sump of this over-drawn, loathesome movie about "a man who I toast in underhanded VICTORY" and would probably "be playing cards with" DOWN IN HELL.

I find it very ironic how most of you JEW-BOYS would take a blonde "Nazi-girl" had you "the opportunity" in the slimed-over, pulled-down pig-sty of your self-tilted EQUALITY FABLE, even as others look around "with a bit of a sly expression" and figure "why not let things SLIDE" in the easy, dark, cynical stinking morass of meta-cynicism, blintzes, bagels and YOUR INFANTILE FUCKING TOILET HUMOR that values life far less than the marching, tramping S.S. hordes who should be smirking at you with significance, before taking your "under-served" ladies PULLED DOWN BY YOUR COWARDICE and galloping off to the promised land WITH YOUR FUCKING SKULLS CRUSHED.

Should you invite it, a revised "Knights Templar" shall go marching, tramping into your pirate-dens of cities and lay waste to these "Sodom n' Gommorah's" WITH SWORD N' SHIELD & JACK-BOOT HEEL and leave your blue-state enclaves IN FLAMES.

Don't fuck with us. Or else the new temple of Jerusualem shall rise right here "in the Gateway City", stacked with the skulls of pirates, quibblers, bankers, media whores, and the rotted, dead, hook-nosed silence of your crow-ripped answer; if not the fallen wails of your fallen, fellow trashy vermin of white, descended ape-grunting cosmopolitan enablers. Wotan shall now load up in his chariot, his war-bride smiling about in an oversized storm-trooper helmet as he cracks the reins and the eight-legged Solaris horse flys up through the sky "with a whinny". . . . . until you can't see them anymore, shading your eyes against the sky with one palm.

http://www.reuters.com/article/idUSTRE70702Y20110108

(Well, whatever "this" means, YOU CAME AFTER ME FIRST. But to speak of your backwoods "Godfather" type leaving severed heads of beady, glaze-eyed WILDLIFE on the porch "of some hapless family"-- Wotan is honest enough with himself "to spare women, children, n' schnooks"-- especially "a gathering of them" inside a home. Wotan smiles upon families and domestic scenes, and has mercy upon them "like Santa Claus" while saving his violent contempt n' PATH OF THE LION for those "whom buy and sell" the lives of the innocent n' vulnerable INTO SLAVERY. . . . . much like how your pirate-culture fosters its cheap worship o' pleasure AND DEGRADATION in the cities AT OUR EXPENSE. We're watching you. . . . . and tally it up like the cops, firefighters, paramedics, AND MILITARY who may decide "to walk off the job" AND NO LONGER GUARD THE WALL from the howling blackness outside of baying, snarling wolves-- if not the world-wise ghetto black soul-tribe "in the cities", and the Mexican Atzlan warrior-gangstas "within". Behave "or else")

Oh yeah?

http://www.aolhealth.com/2011/01/07/young-people-nursing-homes/

c

     Cheer up the young man with "this".

d

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2011/01/07/AR2011010706796.html

To the "Package-Bomber" & all whom would send such types of passive-aggressive malarkey "in-the-dead-of-night". . . . . when only "steers n' queers" are lookin':

4

In my experience, this makes up for your inability "to speak to the source" of your social, economic, or sexual insecurities "face-to-face" until you take it out in a means, that-- you could argue, on one hand-- IS DESTRUCTIVE-- yet does not solve the turmoil of what you do not know how to fix inside so to confront either A) individuals; B) circumstances; in life-affirming, positive ways with the inner, self-actualized "BECOMING". So to project everything onto some passive, dumb, stuck-in-the-mud SCHMUCK that is largely the state of our mulling, indecisive government n' political culture is a bit of some egregious "theatre of the mind" not helped by this bullshit press corps "that but, LIVES for theatre" to the smirking nod of your "Odin-in-Chief". To think; also-- that part of power IS THE MAJESTY OF NOT NEEDING TO SAY OR DO ANYTHING, but to laugh at "Priscilla: QUEEN of the Desert" and spook da' shit outta "Gandy Goose". Or even fuckin' "Fozzie Bear" with a slimed-over, dopey expression riding around in THE PEOPLE'S STUDEBAKER "and pulling down the moral, intellectual, if not BREEDING DISCOURSE" of this country with his clarinet-voiced suppositions n' mashed-back hat as your "New Left" muppet-puppet as the patrol cop follows him with his stare. . . . . then looks away. Whether or not you need to come after ole' Fozzie from the backseat WITH A GARROTE and strangle the insufferable, now BUG-EYED bastard until he gags and chokes and twitches and moves "but no more", the children at home WILL BE SCREAMING at this most unlikely development here on Jim Henson's warmed-over 1977 muffin-values rottersissie of lynched bodies like "some old filthy tie rack". Don't be that man marched out before your sanctimonious veil-waving SHAHEENY PRESS. (-- That ain't a fate "fit for a white man").

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/08/opinion/08kirsch.html?src=twrhp

44

"To my BROTHER IN SKULLS". . . . .

Rally, if you may-- in the streets of Iraq striking at the head of the U.S. Government in weak, discredited times; when apparently, "THE BEST THEY CAN DO" is read from some tattered, abused old ass-wipe of a Constitution. This is funnier, considering that "a major HIP academic STUDY ON RAP MUSIC" came out in a hip little curio of a book as vaunted by trendy jive-ass professors, if not their quacking Jewish vassals when it turned out that they took most of their DUPED research from the internet, and this cultural side-show, yet circus of OFFICIAL-PHONIES in our degraded circus menagerie of media whores "signed-off" on the work WITHOUT READING IT, then squawked as "they loped for cover" and decried "bigotry n' racism" AND DENIED ANY RESPONSBILITY WHATSOEVER. I remember, also-- a scene in "The Eagle's nest" of Monty Burns' office overlooking the nuclear cooling towers over Springfield in that show, "The Simpsons"-- laughing that he would write out a check to save "widows, orphans, n' lepers" ON THE DAY THAT PIGS WOULD FLY. Lo and behold, a dead pig went sailing past his window WITH AN APPLE STUFFED IN ITS MOUTH as he and his Kissinger-like assistant "merely stared on IN SHOCK". It didn't mean, of course, that he would open up his rusty purse strings "at this most zany FREAK OCCURENCE", miracles being "what they are" in this depressing modern world-- but to see Speedy Gonzales tossing down his Sombrero "and doing a little Mexican hat-dance" with his hands folded behind him "just so" to get back at his bigger, dumber nemesis-- EVEN OUR VEIL-WAVING SHAHEENY PRESS CAN'T GET TO THE BOTTOM OF THAT ONE. Maybe you over there in the Middle East "should snicker amongst yourselves" and run some old "beheading footage" back there in the video vaults. Though it is said that Allah is merciful toward "the feeble-minded", a bit of "shock-rock theatre" always does the trick like "good cop"/"bad cop" and the original Santa Claus, whom hailed from Turkey as a good saint. (-- "Kill a Commie for Christ!!")

-----------

To my other "Brother in Skulls". . . . .

I too "like to pinch pennies", down at the shop-keeper's purview of business, whether snubbing "some ignorant fat boy" out of some veiled, mis/grasped quest for "the golden fleece"-- or grandest potentate out of jeweled fables with a foretold scroll of white Arabian stallions "with wings" like dragon-flies as beautiful as the slightly-uncovered legs of women (-- in "respectable circumstances") washing clothes in the Tigres n' Euphrates river like the rolled-back, weeping eyes of SLAIN GIANTS in some parable of a young swordsman's valour. For 1001 praises and low-down grit-teeth grimazes THERE IS A CERTAIN GRANDEUR in but holding the world but like an olive, and tossing it about in their hand. . . . . rolling it about in their palm BEFORE THE SCREW-EYED SHAHEENY SHRIEKERS, their necks bulging out of their collars "like some sickly alley-cat" for the delight of 10,000 tortures, and gibing massive slaves whom look like "Shaq" raking the coals of their moaning torment as our eight-foot "Negro Colossus" widens his eyes with significant approval, as if studying a candied roc's egg there but for the angular, calculating plucking study in the chess-marble palace found in the 7th moon violet, star-laced crescent reaches in a din of Satanic smoke. . . . ! "Rub it in", if you may-- but "The American Enterprise Institute" WOULD SHIT.

---------

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/08/opinion/08herbert.html

Ah, the dead-eyed Negro clown is feeling "saucy".

Perchance he revels in his role as thick-layed-on mayonaise/smarmy "canary" SOUL-MAN of some beast "of caged progressivism's FIGHTING HEART" made more laughable by his rumpled, foul-smelling suit and bulgy, loopy "personality quirks" which many would care "to overlook" out of polite, deluded piety as you rail on against the practical business of cash-box and middle-manager SHOGUN. Much with the decling quality of life in our personal n' national n' even "clubby PRESS-BOX AFFAIRS"-- you are symptomatic of why most have chosen to give up on this stinking, cynical sump of an oozing, flabby country "GONE SOUTH" since "we lost World War II" and your side of liberals, communists, integrationists, and MEALY-MOUTHED BACK-STABBERS lay seige to our institutions through sheer osmosis of gaping, gleeful, apish slime as the speculators in this country "would quietly move their cash OVERSEAS", like changing tables or box-seats "around particularly-offensive fellow guests" foretelling THE DEATH OF A CIVILIZATION as you caper around in your fucking New York Times office, thinking "youse da' big niggah" GAMIN' DA SYSTEM and typing your grinning, peanut-headed "editorials" to the heavens on what might as well be "an imaginary typewriter". . . . . seeing that you're the token coon around here anyway.

(-- No offense to the Secret Service looking out over the Potamac with a glint off their binoculars. No, wait-- they're loading up the sniper rifles to descend down on St. Louis)

P.S. (Actually, Mr. Herbert redeems himself here quite admirably which is why salvation ain't a far-off bet once we "bear down" and swing da' bat, "making it" to first base and methodically circling our way "home")

elcome to the "update" page when I tell you just what the hell is going on inside "Galaxy Michael", veritably the "The Bard's Lair" of underground literary doggerel if that's want you want to call this little out-of-the-way jungle of the web that has yet to be conquered by corporate space, the dictates of media censorship, or even something so knee-slapping jolly as "The Department of Homeland Security" leaning over my chair sternly with a frown, if not sunglasses-faced impassiveness, and an attach่ case full of lollipops to keep me less raucous, plied with sweets and bribery's tidings.

No, boys & girls-- I haven't sold out yet. Nor do I plan to be led to the corruptions of "the modern fame machine" like an alcoholic sniffing after the cork, and ending up drowned in the gutter like a Hollywood rat. Come here and enjoy THE FEAST OF THE SHORT STORY, and contribute to the tip-jar to keep the party going or "have your worm-eaten skull split by the pagan axe of hatred". Now that "our business" is out of the way (-- by your throwing-in of the occasional $20), let us drink deeply from the horn of plenty!

Because production continues at "Insufferable Industries"!

Send $$$ and I'll mail 'ya a guitar pick!

Yes, join B.R.O.E.S. . . . . or "The B.R.otherhood O.f E.ternal S.leep"
but don't end up like these guys:

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Shit-dog "legal defense" fund--

Neither "speak", nor "roll over" when questioned-- and remember the immortal "5 WORDS". . . . . "I have NOTHING to say". Make it a bit of "a playful game", and remember that "irony and violence" are the weapons of "the oppressed". I'll have laughter, while you can slink around "in cannibal holocaust". . . . .

-- "Settle down, Butthead!!"

            
The Cult - Fire Woman on MUZU.

How to "get on the nerves" of Alumni giving here

4kkkkkkkkkkk

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/dr-douglas-fields/rudeness-is-a-neurotoxin_b_765908.html

4

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704415104576066180967679912.html

2

The point of such works put out by the National Alliance and other such surly, pissed-off men was to suggest "checks n' balances" upon zany, bonkers, aping grotesques INSIDE A SYSTEM THAT APPARENTLY KNOWS NONE-- and perhaps these wonderful pieces of "scare literature", if not promoting OVERTHROW OUTRIGHT, would put "the fear of GOD into you" or at least the concept that a lone vengeful individual, if motivated by the passive, rude suffering THAT YOU SHOULD SEEM TO EXPECT WE OUGHT TO LIVE UNDER "takes a stand" AND BLOWS YER FUCKIN' MIND. Ask who this congresswoman was and what devestating policies she promoted at the expense OF THE TRULY MARGINALIZED IN THIS COUNTRY WITHOUT A VOICE, "making you feel GUILTY for pointing out THEIR GUILT" in this congressional/media FUCK-FEST of grueling, grubbing SELF-PITY that only invites FURTHER CONTEMPT from those whom know "what is what". I would hope FOR A PEACEFUL RESOLUTION, "but Wotan knows" what you truly deserve.

4

The Youth Job Market. . . . .

. . . . . is "not what it seems" to anyone who has experience working in the office-end of things, when so much of this is the faked, put-on "Kabuki theatre" of ritual with a secret trap-door released for your resume, sending it down into "the crocodile pit" of oblivion. Don't think that there is an army of dilligent "human resource types" poring over things through a monocle like the paragon "of the King's fighting military" but rather is full of a bunch of sandwhich-eating clowns "who perhaps have five minutes" to go scanning for buzz-words AND STRIKING OUT "those who would probably be more trouble than they're worth" with any such "red flags" or illegible scrawlings. However, this does not help who is the equivalent of "a youthful, unemployed army" of leaping trout-- splashing up the water-fall in futile, bulge-eyed desperation when let down by the gray splorch "of our coercive utopian" socialist education system of hacks and the grime, friction, inefficiency, & waste that dogs at the heels of everyone who simply isn't a dumb, nodding SUBMISSIVE DOG living off in a world of well-adjusted denial. There's always the world of discouragement, or the under-employed "which simply does not show up" on those happy-go-lucky OLD CITY DEMOCRATIC MACHINE "Bureau of Labor Statistics" candy-ass tom-foolery, "honking on" about peanut butter and clock radios "from circa 1974" in a giant sun-hat. So much of "getting good" requires those long hours of working with boxes, HTML, or simple "carrying-over" movements like hard-core practice and a wary, fist-clenched appreciation FOR STRUGGLE with a wry grin. "Know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em". . . . . and that is the most essential currency that you learn "when going out into the world". Many times, those "who get the job" are the great "GUITAR PLAYERS" who show up at the audition with a great attitude, one that is both calm, cocky, and self-kidding AND TOTALLY SELF-AWARE "as if there are other options out there" besides just this jammin' space WHICH WILL MAKE YOUR VALUE GO UP. Out of a 1001 cereal boxes, all "blazing red" as they stand there copying each other, one that is utterly calm and "ROYAL BLUE" will make "quite an impression".

d

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/09/opinion/09rich.html

4

e

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/10/opinion/10collins.html

c

The real problem in this country is neither guns nor laws (-- way too many, none enforced "anyhow") but the smarmy immaturity others "think they can get away with" as each side "barricades FOR THE FIGHT OF THE CENTURY" until packed into an utter, wretched "passive-aggressive" situation THEY GO OUT GUNS BLAZING against the personification of their ills-- as they see it, such antics "like spitting on soldiers" or "desecrating the flag"-- if not flaring up this moral & cultural war against ordinary folks MINDING THEIR OWN BUSINESS IN THE FIRST PLACE. The right has always been down in a poorer-off, sadder hovel "as you dance around" and bully them-- apparently IMPERVIOUS until they snap it right in your slimed-over, simpering, culturally-alien (clueless?) face AND SHOW YOU THE TRUTH OF THE HOWLING VOID. Come for our guns, AND YOU INVITE AMERICAN REVOLUTION.

It is interesting to note in "The Turner Diaries", that's how it in fact "works" with some low-level political "brownie bake-sale" massacare as a pretext to pass "The COHEN Act" and outlaw the private ownership OF ALL FIREARMS-- just as they've done in all your other so-called "civilized" Western countries living by thy vaunted "European model" as the public finds itself in rank fear n' terror, sold out by its own simpering, culturally-alien elites-- evidently "for their own PROGRESSIVE GOOD" as howls for justice rise from the equivalent of the Red-State countryside, petitioning for redress until "tabled by committee" then FINALLY OUTLAWED in the whole rotting morass UNTIL ARMED STRUGGLE IS THE ONLY HONORABLE WAY OUT.

Which one is the criminal. . . . . the colonists who rose up against a tyrant in 1776 OR THOSE WHO SQUISH n' SLIME TO PRESERVE RULE WITHOUT RECOURSE? When honesty is illegal, criminals write for newspapers AND OUTLAWS FIGHT FOR FREEDOM right here @ www.dearwinona.com

http://www.paladin-press.com/

http://www.deltapress.com/

g

http://andrewsullivan.theatlantic.com/the_daily_dish/2011/01/how-did-loughner-get-a-legal-gun.html

d

That's not really "the point". Legal or illegal-- you can always buy a gun from a buddy, or break in "and steal one", or just simply come across "as presentable and upright as a young man" anyone would believe at a gun-show "or whatever". . . . . and with the screaming eagle as your beacon of liberty, complete the transaction "with a salute". The point behind guns n' "gun culture" is HONEST CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT and a respect for the lethality of the weapon-- which our slithering "candy-ass" culture increasingly loses touch with until we should be a bunch of infantile, diapered-over readers "of all APPROVED" publications under mongrel, "foreign-born" Presidents-- no less AS YOU CAN SCARCELY FIND A WHITE FACE ON TELEVISION ANYMORE in whatever "your socialist PARADISE" with the downward drag of the hooting, Jerry Springer mob, evidently deemed "safe" by mealy-mouthed MEDIA WHORES such as yourselves, carpet-bagging off the slow, rotting destruction of a people.

4

P.S. Lil' piece here: "When Talk of Gun Control MAKES MEN JUMPY"

http://www.csmonitor.com/World/Europe/2011/0110/In-Arizona-shooting-Europe-sees-an-America-gripped-by-doubt-pessimism

    Oh yeah. . . . . ?

Speaking of "The Cohen Act", take a gander at this shameful ex-St. Louis bastard who flapped-off "to the big city" and presents a threat "to health, wealth, n' morals" from the "Eastern af-FRONT" to the Mississippi loam values of hard-bitten, plug-ugly conservativism with a cocked bowler hat n' a snarl for thy creeping hordes of speed, violence, newspaper dispatches, AND NORMAN ROCKWELL thrown into the clattering, steaming, broken-down machine of GODLESS PROGRESS.

44

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/09/fashion/09COHEN.html

4

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/09/fashion/09Modern.html

I would write back to this nice lady and say, "be open to new experiences" in bonded, spiritual relationships "between stowaways" in secret cracks n' crevices yet caution: that a woman "as a plump partridge" hopping about LIKE SQUAB is yet "a currency of exchange" like diamonds, wine, n' stolen art-work in the seedy, hang-dog world of unscrupulous bastards "who will say & do anything" to get you to coo an enticed song, "then have their way with you" with all the romance of street-side pigeons. . . . . . before they're the ones WHOM FLY OFF, laughing at you-- possibly ransacking YOUR DAMN HOUSE. Don't fall for pleased, self-smug orgies for "the way of the world" is NOT GETTING "Somethin' for Nothin'". . . . . in this endless pile-up "of unsolicited telemarketing calls n' JUNK MAIL", if not pan-handlers n' THOSE WILLING TO EXPLOIT YOUR FANTASIES LIKE A ROASTED, SPITTED PARTRIDGE. The way of the world is cold, paw-scratched cruelty over a shallow grave when the glass-toasting ELITE over there in your New York party circles FORGET THIS, evidently-- at least, until one of them is brutally hacked-up with a flurry of appalled, decadent interest "before going back to the Roman party". A real man invests in his lady, and stands by her no matter what. Fundamentally, one learns "the meaning of loyalty" in the jockeying position "of using people as stock trades" (-- "swaps"?) OR EVEN AS HUMAN SHIELDS when the logic "back-fires" in a "War & Peace" epic of what happens when they themselves "are finally JUNKED and are for sale" down at your ole' "Dollar Store". Power works "as leverage" and it doesn't PAY to be caught with very little with what I've known and seen.

g

O.K, listen. . . . . here's the deal: whether between labor n' management OR BEYOND KAYNOFABEE when the representatives of various biker, criminal, and Aryan prison gangs-- "or at least their multicultural equivalent"-- get together and deal drugs, "set policy", and hopefully not brandish switch-blades that would make ZZ-Top county's METH-DEALER roll his eyes "like a spooked pit-bull". . . . . you got to understand that "whatever the world OF BAD MEN", the evils of crime n' strike-forccs and jogging SWAT teams-- most of you elites "were just playing PRETEND" like a bunch of spoiled, sheltered "rotten teenagers" whom got "carried away" with their mock authority, "if pretend convictions" BECAUSE THERE WAS NOT A REAL ADULT AROUND TO SHOW YOU WHAT WAS UP. And now you fear that you must now FACE THE SLAYER, ole' snorting "Goat-Head" in the flesh, standing there in the arched door-way with his sword of Slaytanic Wermacht SLAUGHTER.

d

s

Dont'cha think that you just simply ought TO ADMIT that your side of allegedly "classy", "sophisticated" circles had long since been "hollowed out" by decadence n' fan-waving "REPUTATION" until some humble, sickly-ingratiating clerk would pull upon thy toga and mention "But sire, the treasury IS EMPTY" even as a howling mob crashes the gates with a gulliotine, hollering red-facedly for the restoration "of American honor" with a shook fist?!

f

4

4

"You're the greatest!!"

4

"Shake a leg, Saddam. . . . .
this time you're HISTORY!!!"

    Ticket

of

Greetings from "your greatest show on earth" with Chief Buffalo bull-shitter "ain't sittin'-on-his-hands" politico "Marshall" with a mail-order Sherrif's star. . . . . and they don't call me "Colonel" because I'm some dumb-ass fried-chicken franchise mascot that would make Bill Cosby's eyes "water" as he makes an angry, affronted expression like a Ghannian witch-doctor "swatting bees". America is still "THE GREATEST COUNTRY ON EARTH" but these days sets me to mind of some run-down old theater in which the old tired performers and managerial "accounting tricks" are no longer quite SQUARING UP with the recipts as the audience grows mope-faced, tired, n' restless. A number of years ago, say-- in the early '90s, "heavy metal" or whatever was growin' "awfully thin", as if it's time "had passed" and collar-tugging management sensed "the anticipation for something else" and turned the house-lights on a new series of acts "to solve the problem" of restlessness, like Jeff Morris flipping on "the house lights" in Bob's Country Bunker once "The Blues Brothers" & Co. figured out "how to play a different tune" before the yee-hawin' drinkers "who paid the cover charge". Life's like a carnival, truck-pull, horse show, rodeo, and a Chuck Norris movie when he and sidekick "Will Smith" take turns pistol-whippin' terrorists and spidery, ghoul-eyed AMERICA-HATERS before hangin' 'em upside down with a lasso and then spending "quality time" with their wives & kids. Meet devil n' angel on "Mr. Bluesman's shoulder". . . . . one looks like Dolly Parton and the other looks like Winona. It's "A Saturday Night Special" down at the ole' bunker and "Election Tuesday's (dog-gone)!! By someone's EXECUTIVE ORDER, I wouldn't MIND being "your exalted cyclops". . . . .

5

The state only exists as "a neutral tool". Man serves the LIFE FORCE, which in harmony with his surroundings "like a vibrating TUNING FORK inspires the masses and picks up the state toward useful and productive purposes to further the heroism of the very LIFE FORCE. Man does not serve "as a tool of the state", as if he is a creature existentially-stripped of his FREE WILL and good, fine judgment before THE CREATOR which exists up, over, and beyond any crazy, screwball, cockanamie "termite hill" construction of avoidance, hubris, and cowardice built by "mud weevils", if not "schnooks", "big whiffers", n' EVIL MEN. So-called "LOYALTY OATHS" are a lie, not unless they are in accordance with heroic racial n' spiritual forces WHICH VIBRATE THROUGH EVERY SHIMMERING ATOM. . . . . rooted in blood, soil, and destiny "with a meeting of the tribes", many a breed o' cat who adds their racial and spiritual dimension around "THE LEAGUE OF HEROES-in-progress". One world, many races. . . . . titanic destiny-- each man A GRAND POOMBA free to pursue his heroic calling WITH SWORD, SPEAR, N' SHIELD. . . . . the torch upon the mountain, THE TRIFORCE, acquire the fire!! "Altered Beast" on Sega Genesis: DA WEREWOLF!!

Some time back, there was an article in the December, 1990 issue of "Esquire" magazine that detailed the primitive proto-world "of hackers as we know 'em today" runnin' around a Ninja Turtle "New York City" environment and messin' around with payphones, lap-top's, "suction-cup MODEM FILTERS", and fist-full's of quarters "as they pal'ed around-- wearin' NBC "production staff" ball caps in case a bumbling security guard should tap his nightstick, "scratch his head", and wander on over. It has the same cute aura of "The Blossom Show" or a made-for-tv movie that had some young pranksters "who bluffed" the airport authorities into thinking that a lone band of malevolent types, "whoever they were". . . . . TOOK OVER A PLANE when it turned out to be a bunch of 10 n' 11 year-old's "messin' with their mind" OUT ON THE TARMAC. What was revealed, however-- WAS HOW UNPREPARED "THE SYSTEM" WAS FOR REAL EMERGENCIES. . . . . should a creative, malevolent ENEMY OF AMERICA choose to exploit "the flaws in the system". So much of this stuff CAN BE PREVENTED by A) Simple Quarantine Procedures via "Commonsense"; B) Stopping so much of the festering misery in the world THAT PRODUCES RADICALLY-DISLOCATED ILL-WILL. Oftentimes, with "the blindness of the system"-- the methodical grubbing of thousands of lobbies-- AND THE FACT THAT THE HUGENESS OF THE PROBLEM is oftentimes "simply an excuse to do nothing". . . . . except "to dip your hand in the till AND ASK NO QUESTIONS" not only do these problems "not get better" BUT WE ACTUALLY SUBSIDIZE THEIR EXPANSION; apparently in the name "of patriotism". Bad factors, Bad favors, Bad laws, Bad patronage, Bad greed, BAD JUDGMENT-- is pulling us down as congress "grandstands" like indignant, bluffing lions and the press natters on like gay, parsing geese. . . . . as factors warp, twist, and germinate into a twisted, rotted termite hill of an uniquely WESTERN CANCER endemic to our country here in North America as the country cries out for leadership-- if not a gauntlet slammed down on the Oval Office desk to send these elite dodgers "scattering". I am the law; I AM EL FASCISTO. . . . . the world laughs at what few tatters remains of 'yo upstaged credibility "as gods on their thrones MUST BE WATCHING FROM HELL", as the sky rumbles and the earth shakes and Mt. Satan cracks open with King-Kong beating chests and Wotanistic fury to reveal "your snickering half-Jewish bullshit artist" rolling into town via hastily-convened "Motorcade". Death to the liberal insect!!

In "Conan the Barbarian". . . . . our hero is a grizzled, formerly-enslaved "pit-fighter" with no attachments, no family, no home. . . . . . except HIS MEMORY of the forces that sacked his village and forced him  "upon the path of agony", leading to a life of primordial GREATNESS irrespective of will, THE TRIUMPH OF SUPERIOR WILL that would have "killed off" weaker, more sickly men as he ponders ON ONE THING, that CROM-- "the all-father in the sky" grant him REVENGE as he infiltrates the rotten snake-cult "of the status-quo" behind the forces that orchestrated HIS WOE ALL THOSE YEARS BEFORE, whatever "the doddering esctasties" of foolish, flighty revelers "around a STONE-HENGE of evil".

k

After many "Bandit-King" misadventures, he finds himself upon the existential PEAK before the affronted symbol OF EVERYTHING, when James Earl Jones holds out but a fatherly hand and reminds him "that I am the river from which you flow. . . . . you would BE NOTHING without me. PEACE". Conan hesitates "for a second", faltering-- gasping, "at a loss FOR WILL" then beheads THULSA DOOM to a lone, tittering scream "of some ineffectual insect" as he holds up THE HEAD and then throws it down the steps.

Barack Obama is not Thulsa Doom. Most of today's Americans are but a bunch of clueless, collar-tugging, self-referencing, snarky BUTTHOLES wondering "what of the future" as they nose about "like tapirs", bumping into each other with a polite "pardon-me" and trying not "to make a spectacle of themselves"; much less when Rambo plunges down from a tree WITH A SHARPENED STAKE. Whatever "the gnotted boner of Cain" in a divine mushroom-head magic LSD shadow Necrocomicon Egyption slaughter-cult literary masturbation of devoured, pickeled Jew's-feet and the stringing, capering lines "of the cracked MATRIX-code" like skittering, scrolling ether. . . . . . I can tell you THAT I DRANK A LOT OF COFFEE.

        b                                 d                  

Threat Assessment: "To win" against the ills of an increasingly scary n' chaotic world, we must maintain the face of a fair, honest, strong, n' reliable CREDIBILITY that moves through the world with fundamentally MORE CREDIBILITY than any weak, cowardly evil-doer's "otherwise STRIKING FROM THE SHADOWS". Just as many bully from a supposedly high, impervious perch "as a rotten Roman party" and corrupt arms of selective Federal enforcement that CRUSHES DOWN ON THOSE SET-UP TO FAIL by a negligent system of self-seeking, the "quest for the golden fleece" FLEECES EVERYBODY-- even those "with the power of dispensation" around soul-killing pyramid schemes of abstracted corruption around the blackened heart of the ever-strangled American dream that you will find clotted by turf-battles n' quibbling cowardice-- as the world of consumer goods begins to take on the cast of African mercenaries and diamonds and human trafficking and blood-splattered walls in a techno-blast soundtrack of cool, self-referential horror. Beyond the novelty of psychopathy and fan-waved "gamesmanship", if not overwrought emotional and artistic self-seriousness, WE MUST NEVER FORGET that there are characters in the world WHO ACTUALLY LIVE THIS STUFF-- and inside, grin widely "as they lead you into a captive trap" and bar the door behind you. Behind your angling for warm, spongey "self-congratulation" as you would attempt to use others "as props" for your glad-handing party "of moral self-righteousness", anyone MAY HAVE VASTLY DIFFERENT IDEAS as they subtletly play a game OF GRAND STRATEGY, perhaps 1001 Cherry Blossoms flying through the wind or a subterreanean assault of spiders sent "MUNCHING THROUGH THE FLOOR" as "bargaining" & "attempting to make friends" only earns a blank, cruel, and knowing nod AS THEIR FORCES ENCIRCLE YOU and gain an ever-stronger UPPER HAND like pincers, winding vines, or a coiled dragon. We get "stirred up" over the self-destructive flurry of some dumb fool hurling himself at "the sheep" and dying horribly and violently while underestimating THE TRUE WILL TO LIVE inside others who will ultimately triumph over the put-on lies of inferior men and their casually-imposed circumstances LIKE THE BELLOW FROM THE DEEP that gives nations and popes and potenates pause; for their hour draws near like the crumbling edges of a false world-- and reality "bleeding in" ON MY TERMS. Hail the dawn of the Aryan Solstice-- the Righteous Fist of the Morning Star shoving the fury of holy mission up thy ass!!!!!

d

(It would make "a great video". . . . .)

d

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iT6vqeL-ysI

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/12/26/fashion/26DCDEB.html

http://www.cnn.com/2010/HEALTH/12/29/aha.moments.weightloss/

44

Whoa. . . . . "cut back at 'dem FRIES" I guess, but life reminds me of some grand "Romance of the Three Kingdoms" Samurai epic when our roly-poly "GENGHIS KHAN" of an affronted hero kneels barefoot in the snow before a Shinto shrine in honor of the legend of some departed village girl. . . . . "on the trail" for years with Katana, blade, n' saber UPON THY VERY CODE OF BASHIDO. Offering him "a concubine", no matter "how accomplished"-- deviates FROM THE PATH of true honor in memories of gray, rainy days and the Asiatic steppe of loping wolf n' circling hawk. Would "E. Honda" from Street Fighter 2 change his ways, whatever the slapping fist of blogger-world absurdity? Yes!! But "an incentive system" would have to be IN PLAY-- the more Winona glows with approval, THE MORE I TRAIN LIKE ROCKY-- much like what left me ass-bound "in front of this COMPUTER" and set in my ways. Canyadiggit?!!!!!!

4

http://nymag.com/news/intelligencer/70312/

Will they never DIE?

It's "Mandatory Suicide"!!

           d

l

l

http://www.foxnews.com/world/2011/01/07/chinas-new-fighter-jet-pose-terrifying-challenge-fleet/

Well, I don't really see "how this should be a threat" so long as WE DON'T CUT CORNERS for the care of our fighting men n' women WHICH IS BY FAR WHAT MATTERS MOST. A happy army is a fit, fighting army and a well-fed army with decent medical care that has every incentive in the world to give y'all 110% in hill-chargin' research & development which finds it an eagle-screamin' joy TO SERVE "and get one over" on foreign opponents in rival "hockey jerseys", a great game of "capture the flag" and secret Ninja magic "Chuck Norris-style".

Ole' David Brooks has the right idea here with the commentary about ole' "Cousin Fester" here, who as a teenager once looked like a sharp, wary young man parsing questions about authority like a heavy metal parking lot philosopher and would have been contemplating the proposition of Megadeth's soaring-jet/radar-tracker/Arcade/Bonkzoid/Hell-Fire/joystick-smosh album title: "Peace Sells. . . . . but Who's Buyin'?" like a bass-thunk/knobby Vic-Rattlehead "Devil's Advocate" off in some teenaged lair: ADULTS BEWARE!! That is. . . . . before he REALLY went off "the deep end" off in some chained, lurking, lunking self-serious manical torture-pit of the cracked-brain "Id". . . . . mostly unsupervised: like caged, fighting mantises in some Oriental v-fingered throax <thorax> o' torn sanity and drifting, glancing, grinding FUTILITY like something both Medieval & PRIMORDIAL. In this life, the difference between "heroes" and "zeroes" and then all the damn indifferent "bystanders in-between"-- looking like something "out of a nature video" with thirsty beasts of the African Savannah squatting around the one muddy STOMP-HOLE slush-pit of a brackish, rude, brutal trickle inhabitated by a 13-foot salt-water crocodile THAT LUNGES OUT OF THE WATER like the Reptillian Id-jerk of faultless predatory reflex.

See 'ya in da' "Funny Pages".

But the point is, this is what inevitably happens in our society when young men HAVE WAY TOO MUCH TIME on their hands to not only "fall in between the cracks", but FESTER DOWN THERE as well when the triad of either "getting a job, goin' to jail, or joinin' the army" falls short and one fancies themselves "a provacateur". . . . . "a one-man army" with the highest spittoon of military titles and ribbons and hobbyist's fancy, just wishing "to somehow be PAID ATTENTION TO" until they do something as bizarre, grotesque, and disgusting "as their inner psyche" might be, finding itself yammerin' at the bars and shakin' em-- NO MATTER HOW SCREWBALL IT MAY SEEM TO THE OUTSIDE OBSERVER. The quest for validation is like a lost soul "darting off through the night", rolling over the hoods of on-coming cars and panting down alleys like some shaky/crazy/reality camera in which "The Blair Witch" is always OVER THE NEXT HILL and death like some ripping-wraith as the stone-faced, chesse-yellow, and indifferent "lit in the street-lights" can't be bothered.

See 'ya "in hell".

4

4

4

To chortle at something I saw "back in middle school"-- when you have an angsty, alterna/punk-rock rabbit of a Jim Carrey goofball "taking a quasi-ironic stand" against pose(u)rs, "holding posies" at some open-air rock concert when Evian spells "Naive" backwards, except that HE'S ripping this off from somebody else who was quasi-goofin' on the lameness "OF OTHER PEOPLE" when the buck is passed around "of who is gonna be left holdin' da sack", when evidently those who are "cool, hip, and shut-off ENOUGH" are impervious to the game of "pin the tail on the donkey", as they go on "Sphinx-like" about hip, artistic vaguaries, mostly skip out o' jail-time WITH EXPENSIVE LAWYERS, and invite the fury of the right-wing-- when even so, "Captain Rush" by around '98 or so became a punishing, whipping, bland, mashing potato "Heil Hitler" of remorseless anti-Clintonista ATTACK!! on my ole' scattery KMOX 1220 AM Dial as the blondes on cable and the military magazines grew more hawk-like, angry, and FIERCE like apocalyptic Valkerie submission "to some bad-ass Hebrews" patting the desk, if not raising their finger and negotiating out the side of their mouth with self-effacing asides like Woody Allen crossed with Norman Scharzkopf. Guilt kills. . . . . as does jealously-guarded SELF-ENTITLEMENT "that one waves around like a crotchedy stick", as others smile there "like toothy mules" awaiting a hand-out from thy POVERTY O' SPIRIT.

4

The only "Blood Libel" in question is that you obsequious "Kike-worshipers" as a journalist class "finds this of ANY NIGGLING IMPORTANCE" like a bunch of castrated, finger-waggin' geese and should think THAT ANYONE should fall upon their knees before your "tut-tutting" mercy of AN INFERIOR BREED instead of having you locked in a wooden lodge "out in the forsaken wilderness" and having it torched as "Vlad Dracul" sits upon a black steed and laughs with long, flowing locks of mustache-plucked cruelty to your burnt-alive screams & smell of dripping, roasting flesh. The only good journalist in your penny-farthing liberal press is one "dangling from a tree" before THE BLOOD-ROAR OF MILLIONS. . . . . as order is restored, AND MY SERVANTS RAPE THE LAND. Jolly Gillikers, let's roll a cartoon!!!!!!

4

It does not pay in this society in some sense of insecure, restless feeling of self-loathing inside to condemn and harrange at others "to make themselves look better" with a form OF TIGHT-LIPPED EXEMPTION when many times it was these very forces whom got many of us addicted to this rocking, roiling train of destructive, short-sighted delusions "of happy-end fantasies" in the first place, as if not offering a warm hand of win/win positive solutions instead of the disgusting onus of guilt n' shame as a method to control n' emotionally-abuse others "to make up for their essential void INSIDE", long after this picture has gotten ludicrous and grotesque beyond the realm of carping, dancing "organ-grinder's monkeys", blood-suckers, and using others "as human shields". These emotional games have become "so obvious" as to become laughable, as brittle as they are-- as if one presumes to be led down "one or perhaps TWO" train-tracks of NARROW, LIMITED PATHS of presumed, self-affirmed innocence with the face of some sort of mock, preposterous, piping circumstance "as if unable TO COMPREHEND OR CONCEIVE OF THE UNTHINKABLE" even as the explosive melt-down of it leads to your teeth-chattering "end-of-the-world" scenario-- which strangely enough, NEVER COMES-- not unless "in your compulsively-obnoxious, manipulative behavior, someone rises up, sighs, AND BELTS YOU OVER THE HEAD WITH A WRENCH.

d

Some facts exist, like teenage "gangstas" driving downtown to some cinder-block corral of hotel rooms, unaware of the nature of sidling up to one of the roughest streets in St. Louis where "the joke" is that you don't have a party in these rooms, not where lurking, low-down ALLIGATOR-folk of the Id go expressly to shoot up heroin and visit prostitutes, whether it said that "on a little blinking sign" or how many otherwise mythologize "the romance of the city" and perhaps DENY THE OBVIOUS. To say that going down at that time of day "was a death sentence", probably NOT-- but the fact that if there would be trouble for the likes of you young white chickenshits, its SOLEY because "you look so out of place". There's the liquor store with the spooked, muscular dudes in bandannas operating like chanting, cheek-puffed pirates or the ole' bottom-feeder of the hotel owner with sludgy blood runnin' through his veins "tellin' you cats" the policy that it's only "two to a room", NO REFUNDS.

A stoned wastrel of a plumped, ignorant jalapino sausage found in jaundiced, youthful alcoholism can screech "thanx for nothin'!!" out the car window as the old dude continues to stare and stare and stare UNTIL WE CAN'T SEE HIM NO 'MO. . . . . but to see this clown eventually shuffling around the Potosi state lock-up in far more humbled, broken-down circumstances in rustling, dead-eyed defeat says things about this moon-crater of American vision, much less you "bleeding-heart" types pilfering "the aura of this tragedy" FOR YOUR OWN SELFISH ENDS "while looking the other way".

Understandable at it is, somehow-- this is why I cannot truly respect you and shaking my head with a grin, would refer you to the tools of character-development. Otherwise may you dance sweltering, Satanic glees upon the sands of the Saharas as a low-down Arab merchant looks on, munching on an apple like a swordsman of judgement, "wondering what to make of thee" with the Arabian cruelty of 1001 dungeons and the swept cloak of dismissal as the sun blazes on like an orb of timeless scorn.

Or maybe it was Utah. . . . .

4

"Flipper" must send an apology to a very fine, lovely, and gentle former tutor he once knew who schooled him in the language of possibility-- and whatever the scalding defeats of one's rationalized, loathesome character "it is seldom the woman's fault"-- who is just a happy gal not marching about with grand, subterreanean architecture, but a perky, friendly associate whose kindness & decency would frequently "be taken advantage of" by the emotionally-imprisoned WHOM EXPECT TOO MUCH out of these neutral, healing lil' angels. Emotional brinksmanship should not be inflicted on the warmest and most sensitive of our womanly creatures. Nor "games played".

d

What I gots'ta'say to Chinese mothers talkin' about their child-rearin' practices here is that your approach to fealty, honor, and Confucian tradition is ADMIRABLE-- but must be instilled through the understanding OF ITS ESSENTIAL CORRECTNESS THROUGH THE NOBILITY OF OUR RACE-SOUL, "the striving for what is good" through sheer existential GRANDEUR-- not because "some Chinese hen" is chirping around some Joy-Luck Club" like some pitted, ungenerous bird-seed of thy pick-a-ninny heart, howling like a stick-beat Mongoloid monkey "for justice" in a sash like some Mama-san entitlement scheme "we don't quite BELIEVE", whatever the toc-toc of your beating sticks and infintesimally geeky lil' "Coolie electronics" that other breeds o' cats WITH SENSE "spit at" as you creep off "like recessive shadows" ASKING FOR A BEATING. Watch your cowardly, yellow-ass before we rampage through China-town and show you the ways of THULE, "your premier" BUT AN AN ASS-RAPED GOAT. Heil Hitler!!!

4

4

Allan Sloan had an article over here at "The Washington Post" rallying for the privatization of "Social Security" under the guise of "Talking Turkey", but to me-- this sounds more like "let-hell-take-the-hindmost" devil's advocate libertarian accountant bullshit THAT FORGETS how "this rainy-day fund" for our seniors, A-VERY-NECESSARY "social net", was essentially raided by greedy, squealing congressman and their lobbyists "like kids in the cookie jar" WHILE TAKING RATHER GRAND LICENSE, as they wipe the crumbs off their shirt-front-- "that everyone else SHOULD SHIFT FOR THEMSELVES"-- perhaps becoming dependent on blatting, straight-faced "market-logic" (-- or "fibbing excuses") that only justifies FURTHER PLUNDER that leaves THE LITTLE GUY WITH NOTHING while the greedy, mouth-mashing keep you back with one palm "and waddle off". Sure sounds like "rugged individualism" to me. . . . . (???)

4

d

4

Don't act like me when I was a lil' 9 year-old in a 1990 "Nintendo" beanie rippin' off the pantry, hogging the Controller, and doubtlessly making gals "swoon".

dd

Grunge music was like a head thrown back in the Seattle rain, the spongey-sprout/grass-sides n' tapping, roll-eyed conscious-whole/mind-chop of basement spiders n' mutilated hair in the orange-peel/compost heap of some "theatre of affliction". . . . . or at least cut-rate practice-space and spit-out coffee sludge in a yellow-zine-print-courier-splunk of tragic, waystoid YOUTH.

Not unlike some of the more petty juvenile intrigue of other rock n' roll, literature, or beat poetry scenes we have known with various prophets, posers, phonies, hanger's-on, and "Top 40" college kids "Boogeying about" without really seeming TO KNOW THE DIFFERENCE.

d

In any case, BE EXCELLENT TO EACH OTHER and don't worship anyone's "snot-rag" as quintessential "genius" or whatever. You could get "VERY SICK". . . . .

4

A very stern, "yet contrite" article can be found right here that details the travails of "Grad School" intrigue, when some "young unfortunate" gets sold into slavery like huddled paper-grading down in New Ore-leens" when the irony is-- that in their own nebbish, piping, passive-agressive way of pumping their fist "against the system" FOR GEEKY DELIVERANCE, the hawking, gobbling, frozen-hearted, cracked-splattered-slime/pentinent ACADEMY of withered, gruel-lipped wastrels ARE TOO BUSY ROBOTICALLY SHOVING THINGS UP THEIR OWN ASS "to throw ya' a chitlin" or two or even to particularly care in their leftist insectoid/squid-like INDIFFERENCE that's probably off molestin' children in Belgium. Death to the cowled order "in their clerisy of lies", for the axe grows FAT!!!!!!!

4

4

Probably through some checked-box "tie-in" through "Wired" magazine, "DETAILS" has been sent to my house for the last number of months and in some gruesome sense of spy-glass "curiosity", let's you peer in "on those cosmpolitan centers" of style, fashion, n' photography with icy models, sunglasses, leather jackets, impeccable taste, ajar "daring features" and from this side of things, perhaps "a touch of co-option" in the best way that PICKS UP ON DA' BEST OF IT "like a hacker" and uses it against 'em-- watching them as they're caught, FROZEN in what is deemed "impeccably hip" and so easy TO RIDICULE from the grungy WHITE POWER/"Wayne's World"-Mouldy/Styrofoam FIST FROM BELOW that sends them "sashaying off", bewildered BEFORE THE LAUGHER OF THULE. Faster, Pussycat. . . . . Kill, Kill, Kill, Kill, Kill, Kill!!!!!!!!!!

4

4

l4

"As They Vote. . . . . So Goes the Nation"!!!

    
f
             

555




                             



-- "Throw 'ya a ticket, nigger!!"

                              





       

5

 Read my uproarious "Bambi" piece here if you must. . . . .

Whoa. . . . "pitter, patter, Baybayyy" but certain mortified "East-Coast forces" in say, publishing, broadcasting, "elite foundation grant circles", Ivy League schools, banks, entertainment, "public relations" (-- and ect.) are perhaps "striking out" like preening, effeminate leopards and cold-eyed "liberal insectoids" and other assorted vague-eyed postmodern filth n' racial garbage now finding that "the liberal mind-control myth" of equality "and democracy" as practiced as a form of gangster-capitalism with nods and winks and drawn tassals (-- and trap-door alligator pits) of opium dens, prostitutes and video-taped "private surveillance" trickery-- if not "the iron fist" in "the velvet glove" with the easy "haw-haw" of EXCLUSION is facing an insurgency on the internet of wizened, joyous antics "here out on THE HEAVY METAL PARKING LOT". And TO THINK they PERPETUATED this dastardly deed ON VETERAN'S DAY.

Gotta love it. . . . . especially when one's sense of cogent self-esteem deflates and dribbles off like an errant, wobbling football down a rainy, tragic sidewalk as one is affronted with either a distraction-- like "a sea of white noise", or hecklers waving tooth-picks like hostile natives and stabbing the lunking dinosaur of one's speed and verbal agility as one hopes to flee and tromp, Tromp, TROMP "back to the bog" like a refugee from sight, sound, and hearing-- dissassociated from all hungry, hostile eyes.

Or that's "how it used to be". . . . .

It's why I never liked "trading tapes" with people. . . . . whether sullen "indie intellectuals" or "punk-rock goofballs" who would oftentimes confuse a violent flurry of emotion-- whether sociopathic or silly-- "for something SIGNIFIGANT" with the looming credibility of the old, crabby, moping black Blues-man or Tom Cruise-style "rock-climber" livin' li(v)e to the X-Treme MAX while flinging forward a stick of candy in "MENTOS. . . . . The Fresh-Maker" irony. These, the postmodern "rootsy" signifiers of the times-- everyone standing around like a party thrown by a-VOIDED god and no one sure what to do but bear their glistening teenage choppers up toward the fluorescent lights hopefully "and pray for as little burdened homework as possible" in an orgy of slacking, goofing-off behavior back in some mid-'90s crypt. . . . . apparently at the height of all civilization and all striving "in the known world & beyond".

Oh, ye children of progress. . . . . . do not doubt our stultified, constipated cultural product of sanctimonious/weary brooding, if not "snarky pilfering" in petty victory. . . . . skipping away from "community service" and clipping off the bar-codes on the bottom of 10,000 bread-bags so the animal shelter "can save 50 cents ON DOG-FOOD". Leave that to the curdled, sugar-overed OLD "who don't know HOW TO PARTY".

Gotta love it. Who was "to think any different" unless you were "told any different"? Don't you think that "a big appeal of acting". . . . . getting to ESCAPE into the role of another character, precisely to give you that sense "of fixity and importance" that life otherwise LACKS? Don't worry, you're "good enough". Even if part of you feels "like a quaking little girl" with everything "creeping, subterreanean, and impure"-- I think I have a pretty GOOD LOCK on what that feels like. Sometimes there was always "the intrigue" of The Cheateau Marmot or whatever, or maybe a fashionita-addicted "mod girl" walkin' down a rainy street "as more style than substance" as a Parasian film projector flickered on a sad, whimsical Marquis-shadowed taxi ride "and Koko the French-Clown" adopted his whimsical mime postures BEFORE BEATEN DOWN BY FAR-RIGHT VAGRANTS. . . . . but you get the idea.

(-- Even Johnny Depp "would blink" at that)

Hey-- "a trick" I learned is steeling oneself to absolutely every dirty, rotten, low-down possibility OUT THERE imaginable with "the law of the worst-case scenario", HOW I'VE KNOWN THINGS TO WORK in this boggled and hilariously faith-dislocated age and very little surprises me at this point. It's oftentimes like the fable of "the mouse, the cat, and the jar of fat"-- how the predator and victim agreed "to share this bounty" and the sly cat took a little, then most, then all, then killed the mouse "no matter the increasing piteousness of this situation". And that's an old German folk tale, by the way-- infinitely more tight-fisted and hard-headed than "flowery social Marxism" that does not understand the mustache-stroking intrigue of the right-wing Latin American political world nor podunk sheriffs in small southern towns threatening "The West Memphis 3" with baseball bats in shadowy interrogation rooms "and getting the wretched of the earth to sign confessions they don't understand" BECAUSE THEY'RE LOST & CONFUSED.

Dude. . . . . please understand that walling yourself off inside "The Cult of Mossadah" or whatever becomes its own self-fulfulling prophesy. The engine of your military/industrial complex "is smoking itself out"-- even as "the natives" grow more restless and the world "outside" more horrified. You can't "let go" and you're transacting "this tough trade" to fend them off in the heat of battle, in an increasingly-worsening "and ever-desperate" situation, brother. Now, we all need "peace with honor" in order TO SAVE FACE-- when it ain't necessarily "the settlements" or "Brown vs. The Board of Education" or whatever, BUT NOT LOSING CREDIBILITY AND LOOKING WEAK. Because if you don't have "pride", then whattya got? Back with "my experiences" eventually I became so noisy, disruptive "and petty" I HAD "to declare victory" AND GET THE HELL OUT. Whatever the stirring "John Wayne"/Charles Bronson "pre-game show" (-- i.e. "never again!!") just remember that "Dirty Harry" is only an exaggerated caricature of the world "that no one can live up to".

Now. . . . . don't you think that if you were able to release some videos and expertly "frame" the context in which you care to point the debate-- that you will quite literally "turn into a mist" that can dissolve through walls and reform. . . , <?> Honor thy "inner twerp"-- and that of others, getting down "to the bottom" and building up "tall", "muscular", "AND SOLID" with the ability to use a bit of say, wizened J(ew)-jit-su to some profoundly "uncanny purposes". If you need assistance I can help you. Just use your influence and financial muscle "to make things less miserable"-- whether at home, here in America or on the neo-liberal global level where you won't breed terrorists, killers, "nor Leo Felton". Gotta love it. This can be "nice & subtle" and grow like vines. Loud, noisy, garish gestures "only make it worse" with the swollen, nasally-blatting sanctimony "of self-seeking" and cold, bottomless crypt of ultimate abandonment.

Presumably, in such a vile place-- Winona grasped onto the straws of wicked hedonsim, fouler characters, and dubious "entrapment" whether perpetuated by A) The Israeli mob B) Hollywood Israel-firster's or C) maybe "$cientology"-- loosely affilated with either/or as a form of low-down, dirty "insurance". Release "whatever recording"-- or even some SECRET PEEK, perhaps-- with this one YouTube "outing" entitiled "Winona Ryder and her Grrrrrlllzzz" and I'm laughing with my copy of "Hunter", penned by William Pierce with my good ole' friend-- that "lone wolf" and yours-- Oscar Yeager.

But dontcha' think-- that I'm only gonna look like "the wronged white man" before your inborn, cowardly maleovlence and the wrath of Red-State betrayel. . . . . . not only coming after a substratum of the particularly-VILE instigators, but cutting everyone's throat as well? Find "the worst offenders" AND KILL THEM. The worst of the slithering, dead-eyed "trouble-makers" need to be "put-down" before EVERYONE ELSE GETS BLAMED. Butcher 'em quietly "and everyone will understand". It's not anti-Semetic to hate the particularly-awful bastards of that culturally-provocative "tribe". In the cloudy, "slimed-over avoidance" and overall "lack of standards" in this pathetic "pithing pit" of so-called LIBERAL DEMOCRACY "a bit of accountability" calls in to account where we deal WITH CATEGORIES of people CATEGORICALLY. . . . . . "no matter who they are" without free passes given "to the spoiled ELECT".

Your "big lie" is crumbling-- let it go gracefully "and with a bit of humor"-- when folks out there "get what they always secretly wanted ANYWAY". Otherwise, you'll find yourself at the mercy "of Randall 'Tex' Cobb".

Now, there are ways "to save face" and slip out "a back door" maybe, perhaps-- "I'm trying to PROVIDE FOR YOU" so long as you don't carry on like a whole bunch of shallow, noisy DEMOCRATS making up for their inner twerp-i-ness AND UNRELIABILITY with the so-called "courage of their convictions" adding up to empty white plaster suites inside of towering office needles in Dubai funded with "oily, groundhog slickness" and the quiet, sneaking whispers of corruption-- if not blustering royal grandosity and arid, sandy bleakness for a bunch of poor, young stooges thinkin' they got a chance under this scorching sun n' blasting air conditioner and oasis of 10,000 mirages when jeweled, dancing girls like Winona are but a flesh-trader's toothless glee "as you eternally rot". Who do you think yer' foolin', my gray-complexioned Hungarain gargoyle commander? Throw ya' a Shiska, nigger. You're about as bad as my Jewish mother's pruned-over ass as she disrobes rather shakily to get into the shower. You can't fool the essential black, snickering heart of the matter-- you're overcompensating.

Laugh with me "and cut it out".

I am the master of ironic publicity campaigns. But "freezing up" and getting "hacked up" by the yelping press pack-- if not ironic, slithering, nasty gossip like name-dropped information "akin to dollops of easy, whipping privillege" IS TO GIVE IN TO THOSE FORCES OF THE INFEFIOR MOB. . . . . like insects, rats, and turkeys whose lives n' rights "I don't particularly value" upon this racial threshing floor of beaten straw. Remember: you answer to THE CREATOR and not TO VERMIN. Death to the liberal insect!!!!!!!

(The Bell Rings at 3:00)

Now, if you treat me "fair" I'll treat you "FAIRER"-- because harmony & love "and all those good things" IS ALL I EVER REALLY WANTED, if not "my two front teeth" if you don't eventually send the Mossad out here to assasinate me in case I become too much "of a pain in the ass".

Now, dontcha' think there's "the grandest humor" IN ALL OF THIS? Sure, it can be argued that liberalism is a form "of mental mind control" on some level-- a sort of "religion" found (-- quasi) true to the many, false to Oswald Spengler, and "pretty useful" to those who have risen up to power by brains, chutzpah, "hoof" & CROOK as gods on their thrones "must be watching from hell". . . . . or at least the limping, screwball mechnical/number-kruncher conception of Milton Friedman economics, two heads of the nebbish "BEAST" whether in board-room "or think-tank" that have dominated the upper strata of American life, if not media n' entertainment that falls back "on candy-corn appeals" so you don't "throw them to their death from office towers". Keep your nose clean, and we'll push up "the fight" to 3:15 (-- while secretly knowing "there ain't gonna be no fight").

-- "Rock me, roll me, JACKYL me off"!!!!!!!!
(. . . . . 'Jazz doesn't have TO WATCH): "the little boy in question!"

Basically you all DROVE IT INTO THE GROUND while seeming to expect that the ole' "local yokels" WOULD NEVER KNOW THE DIFFERENCE. Even "the paradigm" of going on about "paradigms" like lizard-like INSECTOIDS is over. . . . . and your gray, grasping tentacles of hateful, ashen cruelety have met "THE LIGHTNING N' THE SUN". Now, I can "rib" 'ya about this as a half-Aryan (Jewish) "bullshit artist". . . . . but it took one half of me "to know you that well" IN ORDER TO GET THE IDEA(S) ACROSS.

Now, where's "The Valkerie"? We'll "dosie-do" over somewhere for a "Square" meal and "Dance" over "who'll pay the check"!!

Listen. . . . .

It's "the joy of THE GAME".

"THE FUN. . . . . of said GAME".

I'd be playin' "no matter what"-- whether "in the garage" or for international stakes; IT REALLY MAKES NO DIFFERENCE, and that's where my "power", "mojo", or "whatever" COMES FROM. It's mostly a fun, "win/win" game. . . . . not the "zero-sum" one OF HUMAN SHIELDS of said "lose/win" when you were the ones who came out "as the winners" until the system "practically ground itself out" INTO NOTHINGNESS through the blindness of complete and total self-seeking as "the treasure and cultural riches" were sacked by the ignorant, degraded mob "egged on" by hateful, lisping God-deniers, the wrath of the winged "Oscar Yeager" crusader stranglin' him "in the shitter" with a garrote in the White Man's ACTION LIBRARY.

"Gotta love it". . . . . may Odin "all-mighty" smile over the stinking, scratched-over grave of one (1) Dr. William Luther Pierce!!!!!!!!

(-- Why, he was "a babe-magnet" for sure!!!)

. . . . . . Super (Eric) Rudolf (Hess) Valentino III
"Sorry, Mario-- but your Princess is in ANOTHER CASTLE"

, , , , , , ,

Noni, Noni, Noni. . . . . .

Whom do you "fear the wrath of"?

Hollywood is TOTALED.

California is "the sick man of the Republic". . . . . . swarming with nuts, liberals, fags, fruitcakes, Mexicans, "and an inability to stare life in the eye" like a shuddering mud-slide of burning budget wild-fires "out-of-control" that ultimately NEED TO BE PUT DOWN WITH MACHINE-GUNS. Your "Beatnik"/Pulp-Fiction/Grunge/San-Marx-cisco/JEW-HOLE could only last CONTINGENT upon the productivity and stability "of good, dumb WHITE WORKER BEES" who, apparently-- "would (. . . . . or should?) NEVER KNOW THE DIFFERENCE" as your side of the fence carried on with its reign of drug-dropping child molestation and the adulation of romantic "third-world CRIMINALS". Actually, it was in "The Turner Diaries" when the W.hite A.ryan R.esistance "or whatever" set up base west of the Rockies, right in the heart of California and decreed that "if any white refugee" wanted to come into THEIR ZONE as soft, penitent confused "city-chickens" that they'd have to bring back "the head of a black or a Mexican" around their belt and show it "at the border check-point", manned by rangy militia-types trading in gold bars & pork n' beans and eyeing young girls like Gemma from "Square Dance". . . . . as "good breeding stock", if not "an orifice" (-- or three) to pass around the camp when they weren't otherwise playin' cards or shooting their AK-47's in the air.

Now. . . . . . . . . "ain't that LOVELY??????"

So who cares "what Glyntheth Paltrow, or Kevin Spacey, or Harvey Weinstein, or god-knows-who-else thinks" when they themselves would either "be used for orficies" or run down like dogs "and shot down for entertainment" should things get THAT MUCH BLEAKER here in the ole' heartland of men who have the eyes "of a snake KILLED IN THE ROAD".

Watchin' you sip a Coca-Cola would make me "far happier".

Your pal,

-- "Heinrich Hinckly". . . . . #1 fan of blazing intensity.

P.S. Feed 'Jazz 'dem pork n' beans. . . . . "he'll be hoppin'!!"

. . . . .

The joke is. . . . . I am "the biggest, most pathetic SELF-SERVING JERK" of 'em all. If you had ever seen that monologue in which I was quasi-humorously "ranting" at Matt Damon in "Winona Ryder finds Her Destiny" you got to understand the kind of hatred, envy, jealously and quite literally-- murderous thoughts I carried around toward "guys like that", THE INEFFABLY GOLDEN-- "and the more they DODGED with self-effacing" defusing methods THAT MADE 'EM LOOK PERFECT the more you wanted to run over their legs with your family station-wagon, hunting the streets of L.A. with fuckin' Missouri tags and "Haunting the Chapel" on the cruddy tape-deck.

Out if that vile, envious Richard Nixon-style hatred AND YEARS OF MONK-LIKE EFFORT did I finally "get good" at this damn thing, whatever it is "you call it". Listen, Noni-- you may be "freaked-out" by fascistic will, much less the gleeful, dark sense of humor "for these things". We can "branch out" in the community and make this "a bit of a preposterous joke"-- adorable, left-wing girl striding around arm-and-arm with "El FASCISTO" but if I can laugh, SO CAN YOU. But just remember-- you always gave me "a safe place" AND SAVED MY LIFE-- just as I would save yours, and perhaps "world Jewry" quote/unquote by teaching them their own means to achieve inner "Will-to-Power" so they may be highly-effective, modest folks "who don't perpetuate the cycle of emotional violence" that would create someone like say, "Adolf", "Leo Felton", or even myself.

It would be "a great public relations coup" FOR WORLD UNDERSTANDING with you, me, and 'Jazz-- much less "the way I've chosen TO FRAME IT". World Wrestling Federation, EAT YOUR HEART OUT but even Vince McMahon can't TOP THIS.

Isn't said that "half-Jewish bullshit artists" KNOW HOW TO PROMOTE A SHOW? In fact, most of the major moguls in Hollywood apparently came from a narrow square circumfrence radiating out of Eastern Europe.

Laugh with Harry Houdini (Rappaport)-- son of a Hungarian Rabbai, probably in Prague.

(-- Czechkoslavakia? Who knows?!)

-- With "a wink",
. . . . . . your "Exalted Cyclops"

, , , , ,

"You know, not to be confidential". . . . . .

But if Winona was "scared of the locals" (and/or) "sand-niggers" I might be sweet-talked into "relocating" to (gasp!) San Francisco "and gritting my teeth" behind the computer with a smile for "the selectively-censored side" of THAT SOCIETY.

Honest 'Injun.

I won't bring my garrotee.

(. . . . . "to think that you've REDUCED me TO THIS")

-- Nathan Bedford "Forrest Gump".

Murder (Damage) Inc.

Rejoice, Michael & Cindy. . . . . & "Cult-Cupcake Siblings"

For you, Father-in-Law (?) may frown portentiously over "Francis Parker Yockey" with your bald, sheepish reading spectacles and fuzzy, green beatnik sweater as my neo-Pagan Buddhist of a lemon-pinched mother-in-law may bring in some "Captain Sky-high" brownies like a New Left "house Frau", laced with "love n' hearts" and stuck down with lil' "American flags" with HULK HOGAN on 'em grinning in a truck-stop rictus of flexed, blonde "free market" might. . . . . as certain as blue, white-striped "Big Foot" and "Truck-a-Saurus" laying waste to the museums and libraries of conquered Iraq as oil fields burn and exploding cities ARE OVERRUN.

(-- Throw ya' a Shiksa, 'Wolfowitz)

Gods on their thrones must be watchin' in hell, and throwin' up their hands at the computer monitor in laughter as I type this. Viva Spiro!!!!

-- The "P"

P.S: "He shoulda BURNED THE TAPES. . . . ."

     Why, they even tried to nail up GARFIELD!!

l

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Follow orange link, but snicker at what was probably an entirely
unrelated, innocent "history of incidents". . . . . here with "The Top 5"

"Death to the Liberal insect!!"     

Read about Hollywood "in-crowd" Bullshit

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"If you leave ole' "EL FASCISTO". . .  . alone "to graze", perhaps to drop flower off at foot of kooky Jewish girl, perhaps he not open "Slave Labor" camps under NEW MANAGEMENT to make up for blown stock dividends n' crumbled economy, among other embarassing spectacles of the postmodern condition.

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ffffffff

Yor good enuff, you gorgeous lil' "schnook". Don't be intimidated to meet Howard "Axl" Hughes and whatever system of control-freak derring-do methods he offers. Whatever the bonkers hilarity of THIS, because on some level-- regardless of whatever kind of cracked, gnarled narrative of sub-reality. . . . . "I'm willing TO BACK UP WHAT I SAY". Loyalty is of the essence, in Central Intelligence Agency-style swash-buckling capers because I HAVE KNOWN SO MUCH OF IT. That is, when the chips were down. Now, where is "The Holy Virgin" & Child? In heaven, laughing herself into orgasms over a DSL-connected computer. . . . . "her new FUCK-TOY" when Ssgt. Barry Sadler "isn't available" to give her a back rub in some jungle bungalow "passion-pit" with the sounds of screaming VC's "getting mowed down in the night", if not roarin' panthers n' "DEATH FROM ABOVE". And in this case "VC" probably refers more to trendy "V.enture C.apitalists" in vanillia/beige Armani suits askin' for the black, hollow-eyed refrain from "Ballad of the Green Berets" and bayoneted subversives as "THE WAR PIGS" grunt over a feast of bloody/entrail white anglo-saxon Scotch-Irish canteen-swig slaughter "on the slung road" to Khandahar or at least THE SACKING OF PARIS. Or maybe it was Milan. . . . . .

d

"How America will Collapse (-- in 2025, or thereabouts) @ Salon.com

This looks like a job for "EL FASCISTO"!!!

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Like this one? 

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cvvvv

Write to Wikileaks here & $HAME THE ขEN$OR$

(While asking that Julian show "Admirable Restraint")

5555s

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Read a wise opinion for once over at some editorial at "Wired" Magazine by a Geek culture "not known" for its reasonableness, much less sense of proportion or even "GOOD TASTE" in this lost, degraded, and slimed-over age of virginal INFORMATION-OVERLOAD.

d

"You wanna a piece o' me?"

d

f

Another "Twist in the Tail" here.

dddd

"Oh, Julian. . . . . what of thee?" . . . . . Whatever you have "encrypted" in that 1.4 gigabyte "Doomsday File" or whatever, we may just as well presume that it is "as good as leaked" and then have you brutally butchered on live television "as an example" to young punky "upstarts" WHO DON'T GET IT and apparently NEVER WILL. To say that ANY information particularly DESERVES to be "all that secret", or even "to fall into the wrong hands" is only contingent upon the piddling stunts of anti-social JERKS such as yourselves-- you perhaps NEED TO BE BUTCHERED "live on television" FOR EXACTLY THAT REASON. You know why? To show that "you can't get away with it"!!! Clearly you misunderestimate "whatever your leverage" in this POWER-PLAY, or sorts and will only end up getting gleefully sodomized with a toilet plunger down at some station-house back area "closed to the press" as limey Cockneys hoot n' holler and toast the memory of Ian Stewart of "Skrewdriver". . . . . "a real hacker", if any-- who spoke to the concerns OF REAL WORKING-MEN and not this self-abnegating anarchism "that has some screws loose", remedied WITH HIGH VOLTAGE WIRES jimied up to your lil' screeching TURKEY BALLS with a yelp. So why not be sensible before we cut your nuts off with pliers like dealing "with a stubborn lock"? Easily achieved, in this world of flesh n' bone and perked-up flutter-fingered attention-spans upon airless, glue-huffed "KEYBOARD ZONES" of no-return. DEATH TO THE LIBERAL INSECT. . . . . and "to you too", if you're not careful; "man-cub".

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http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052970204527804576044020396601528.html?mod=googlenews_wsj

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v

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gs

Hey, man--

s

I liked Steve Brown & Jeff Smith "as local guys".

s

I wasn't really "too familiar with them", but the one thing I remembered was "only about 10 million" flyers, signs, and great energy n' pep n' enthusiasm "for sunburst-explosive, if facile and ultimately watered-down" feathery promises "that makes up so much of the frustration with the process". . . . . so much so, "that you dump the whole thing" AND GO RED WITH RESENTMENT.

"For better or worse", when a pack of friends-- and by extension, a corrupt political culture endemic to the local city of St. Louis. . . . . if not a broader symptom of "the entire political process at large"-- particularly, the childish LIBERAL side of the aisle; which figures "the ends justfies the means" without contemplating the possible CONSEQUENCES-- then the indifferent pendulum of "the justice system" THAT SHAVES THE BLADE swings inexorably "back-and-forth" with the high existential stark-eyed drama "of rumor, raided offices, wire-taps, prison-time" and always "rolling over" to attempt "saving one's own neck" which is why you should never LIE to a FED lest you worry about the shame, sorrow, "public unmasking", and "possible suicide" or two, literal-or metaphorically-speaking, whatever the rattling lungs of the Federal Justice system complex "that these local clowns didn't deserve THIS".

And you wonder why so many "spit at authority" in this declining age? You got your man, yes. . . . . but contemplate the price and the shadowy, rotting dens "where such petty little schemes" shall forever be SELF-PERPETUATING. Even with some "distant orgin" long ago, far away, here at www.dearwinona.com.

s