Children’s Letters to ZOG: An Il Ragno Reader, Volume 2

by Il Ragno

February 2, 2010

You can relax: this will be certainly be the last of the series. What I didn’t fully realize as I began culling my old posts from Original Dissent is that the “find all posts by this member” function only retrieves that member’s last 50 posts. So if you’re looking, for instance, to cherrypick through 3,500+ posts, you need the patience of Job, the eyesight of a falcon and the aggregate free time of Camden, NJ, on a Monday morning.

It can’t be done. More accurately, it can be done—but not by me, it can’t. So I ended up slogging through two or three hundred posts, salvaged what seemed best, and gave up. Which isn’t a bad thing because the one thing I noticed when going over these old OD threads is Jew Jew Jew Jew Jew JewJewJewJEW! Don’t get me wrong—I don’t much like em, or trust em, but the supposed heyday of OD really resembles the daily minutes of the He Man Jew Haters Club: the anti-Semitism is piled so thick, so often, by every member, all the time, that you’d think that Jews were ten-foot-tall robots that bullets won’t stop, who shoot death ray-beams out of their eyes. It gets a little claustrophobic.

OD was the first message board I ever posted to, after almost two decades of not putting pen to paper unless I was signing a form or writing a check, so I guess I could hide behind over-exuberance as an excuse, but not even I can buy that one. I think that’s the problem with one-ideology boards: before you know it, everyone’s one-upping each other’s J00-bashing in a virtual echo chamber without fully realizing what’s happening. And having Franco around accusing everyone of going soft on Hymie (!) didn’t exactly help restore balance. It’s not that the “message” was incorrect, but that the ceaseless and predictable repetition rendered a valid message completely ridiculous. I’m of course proud to say I was among the very worst offenders.

Anyway it’s not as if OD doesn’t have some very big pluses, foremost among them being a certain scrupulousness among the members for posting the complete text of source documents—articles, essays, news items, transcripts. And there are a lot of them, most of which are now attached to dead links—which makes the OD site even more valuable. You could probably do a thesis on neocon news commentary just prior to the Iraqi invason from the hundreds of late-2002 stories and op-eds posted to OD—stories and op-eds that their authors would like nothing more than to have disappear forever. I may start retrieving some for re-posting...seems to me people need reminding of the fearmongering and blue-sky scenarios Pipes, Krauthammer, Ledeen et al. were selling us back then.

Otherwise, this one follows the format of the first Reader: material liberally reshaped/revised to make me look better wherever possible. Some decent rants, a few good parodies, and a whole lot of race-hate served up old-skool. Audi 5000-payce!

Acceptance, Unedited Text of Bush’s 2004 Nomination

Below is the full first draft of Bush’s speech to the 2004 Republican National Convention. Portions edited out of the final speech as delivered are in red italics.

Mr. Chairman, delegates, fellow citizens: I am honored by your support, and I accept your nomination for President of the United States. When I said those words four years ago, none of us could have envisioned what these years would bring. Well, none of you could, anyway. In the heart of this great city, we saw tragedy arrive on a quiet morning. We saw the bravery of rescuers grow with danger. We saw passengers on a doomed plane who died with a courage that frightened their killers. We have seen a shaken economy rise to its feet. And we have seen Americans in uniform storming mountain strongholds, and charging through sandstorms, and liberating millions, with acts of valor that would make the men of Normandy proud. What we didn’t see were F-16s being deployed. But that’s not important now.

Since 2001, Americans have been given hills of credulity to climb, and found the strength to not laugh while climbing them. Now, because we have made the hard journey, we can see the valley below although we’re too disoriented to know quite where the hell we are. Now, because we have faced challenges with resolve and followed where we were led, we have historic goals within our reach—5,000 year old history at that!—and greatness in our future. We will build a safer world and a more hopeful America with higher walls and more motion-sensor video monitors and retinal-scan ID checkpoints and cossacks-in-Kevlar everywhere you turn...and nothing will hold us back.

In the work we have done, and the work we will do, I am fortunate to have a superb Vice President. I have counted on Dick Cheney’s calm and steady judgment in difficult days; usually I email him the question and he almost always gets back to me by the end of the day. If he were ever physically present in Washington and not in a remote lab being kept alive by the robotics division of Hewlett Packard, I’d be tempted to say I am honored to have him at my side. But for a fella who’s, like, one-third fiberoptics, he’s been a brick.

goodness and kindness and strength I first saw 26 years ago, and then they look at me and they toss a coin: either she’s a simpleton of some kind, or as Mexican as she looks. But we love our First Lady.

I am a fortunate father of two spirited, intelligent, and lovely young women. Perhaps you’ve seen them popping their tops on the Girls Gone Wild: Doggy Style infomercial. I am blessed with a sister and brothers who are also my closest friends and scheduled successors. And I will always be the proud and grateful son of George and Barbara Bush, who taught me early on that others are “born to run” but we Bushes are “born to run things”.

My father served eight years at the side of another great American, Ronald Reagan. His spirit of optimism and goodwill and decency are in this hall and in our hearts, and will always define our party. Perhaps you remember him? My father made fun of his economic policies and called him names during the primary and then had to drink his Evian water out of a dog dish for the next eight years. Then it was Poppy’s turn at last, and Nancy spit on all the silverware on her way out the door. Oh yeah: good memories of the Reagans.

Two months from today, voters will make a choice based on the records we have built, the convictions we hold, and the vision that guides us forward. A presidential election is a jump-ball to win Hymie’s patronage, not a contest for the future. Tonight I will tell you where I had better stand, what I had better believe, and where I will invade next if I intend to lead this country in the next four years.

I believe every child can learn, and every school must teach so we ignored the fact that every other prior wishful-thinking program for niggers had squandered billions and netted the exact same niggers afterwards, and passed the most important federal education reform in history. Because we acted, children are making sustained progress in reading and math, America’s schools are getting better, and you’d think that would be an impossibility with millions of Aztec, Sudanese and Hmong whelps shoveled into the system each year who can barely communicate through flash-cards, let alone written English, but it just goes to show you that nothing will hold us back: not the truth, not the laws of physics, and certainly not common sense.

I believe we have a moral responsibility to honor America’s seniors before Kerry hands geezers the store, so I brought Republicans and Democrats together to strengthen Medicare. Now seniors are getting immediate help buying medicine and my buddies in the pharmaceutical houses get to keep charging thirty-five dollars a pill for blood-thinning medication. C’mon: everybody wins! Soon every senior will be able to get prescription drug coverage, and nothing will hold us back from taxing white people to DEATH to pay for all of this; since not paying taxes at all is what makes our democracy so inviting to our Illegal-Americans, and as for African-Americans—well, shoot, you ain’t withholding enough cash out of a Foot Locker or Wendy’s check to underwrite a bottle of Doan’s Pills—let’s be serious.

I believe in the energy and innovative spirit of America’s workers, entrepreneurs, farmers, and ranchers so we unleashed that energy with the largest tax relief in a generation. Because we acted, our economy is growing again, and creating jobs, although naysayers will point out that a laid-off 55-year-old claims adjustor working the third shift at WalMart is not the kind of job growth that augurs well for the economy, and do you know what I say to that? I say, nothing will hold us back.

I believe the most solemn duty of the American president is to protect two percent of the American people. If America shows uncertainty and weakness in this decade, the New world Order my daddy baptized will drift toward tragedy. This will not happen on my watch. Then again, I was usually AWOL on my watch. But at least I never betrayed my country by going to Vietnam and serving on a swift boat.

I am running for President with a clear and positive plan to build a safer world and a more hopeful America. I am running with a compassionate conservative philosophy: that government should help people improve their lives, not try to run their lives; and we can do that by running the lives of others not particularly in need of improvement. Really, what could be simpler? I believe this Nation wants steady, consistent, principled leadership that only invades countries that can’t hurt us, or even fight back in any way and that is why, with your help, we will win this election.

The story of America is the story of expanding gases inside the corpse of liberty: an ever-widening circle of methane stench, constantly growing to reach further and include more until it inevitably explodes. Our Nation’s founding commitment is still our deepest commitment: In our world, and here at home—but mainly in our world—we will extend the frontiers of freedom. Remember that “frontier of freedom” when you’re preparing that hair sample we’ll be needing from you after the Inauguration.

The times in which we live and work are changing dramatically. The workers of our parents’ generation typically had one job, one skill, one career often with one company that provided health care and a pension. And most of those workers were men. And then the Real Victors of World War 2 stepped up to bat, at long last; and such a deal they made us! Today, workers change jobs, even careers, many times during their lives, and in one of the most dramatic shifts our society has seen, two-thirds of all Moms also work outside the home. This changed world can be a time of great opportunity for all Americans to earn a better living, support your family, and have a rewarding career, in the way that being hunted for sport by Jivaro cannibals provides a great opportunity to hone your survival instincts, camouflage techniques and basic outdoorsmanship. And government must take your side. Many of our most fundamental systems the tax code, health coverage, pension plans, worker training were created for the world of yesterday, not tomorrow. We will transform these systems so that all citizens are equipped, prepared and thus truly free to make your own choices and pursue your own dreams. Try not to think how incredibly freakin’ Bolshevik those last two sentences sound, by the way.

My plan begins with providing the security and opportunity of a growing economy. We now compete in a global market that provides new buyers for our goods, but new competition for our workers. To create more jobs in America, America must be the best place in the world to do business. That means skilled positions becoming minimum-wage jobs, and that means H1-B workers: curry niggers. To create jobs, my plan will encourage investment and expansion by restraining federal spending, reducing regulation, and making tax relief permanent. That means the whole country’s one potential landfill with a FOR SALE sign on it. To create jobs, we will make our country less dependent on foreign sources of energy. That means “liberating” Iraqi oil, for starters. To create jobs, we will expand trade and level the playing field to sell American goods and services across the globe. That means manufacturing those American goods in Kuala Lumpur and outsourcing those American services to Bangladesh. And we must protect small business owners and workers from the explosion of frivolous lawsuits that threaten jobs across America. Small businesses like Halliburton and Harken Energy, i.e., the “little guy”.

Another drag on our economy is the current tax code, which is a complicated mess filled with special interest loopholes, saddling our people with more than six billion hours of paperwork and headache every year. The American people—the ones I know, at any rate—deserve and our economic future demands a simpler, fairer, pro-growth system. In a new term, I will lead a bipartisan effort to reform and simplify the federal tax code. I also will strive to overturn legislation currently making it a federal crime to make the stock market go up and down. I had an uncle who could do it at parties and it was just about the funniest thing you ever saw.

Another priority in a new term will be to help workers take advantage of the expanding economy to find better, higher-paying jobs. In this time of change, ten dollars an hour will seem like real money and make many workers want to go back to school to learn different or higher-level skills. So we will double the number of people served by our principal job training program and increase funding for community colleges. I know that with the right skills, American workers of color can compete with anyone sewing Nike logos onto 1500 baseball caps a day, anywhere in the world.

In this time of change, opportunity in some communities is more distant than in others. To stand with workers in poor communities and those that have lost manufacturing, textile, and other jobs we will create American opportunity zones. In these areas, we’ll provide liquor stores and Armed Forces induction centers to help ease the misery, tax relief to Jew slumlords and other incentives to attract the usual gook/hindu-run new business, and improve housing and job training to bring hope and work throughout all of America. And don’t ask what “housing training” is because you DON’T wanna know.

As I’ve traveled the country, I’ve met many workers and small business owners who have told me they are worried they cannot afford health care. I’m still not sure how my security people let them through. More than half of the uninsured are small business employees and their families. In a new term, we must allow small firms to join together to purchase insurance at the discounts available to big companies. We will offer a tax credit to encourage small businesses and their employees to set up health savings accounts, and provide direct help for low-income Americans to purchase them. These accounts give workers the security of insurance against major illness, the opportunity to save tax-free for routine health expenses, and the freedom of knowing you can take your account with you whenever you change jobs. And we will provide low-income Americans with better access to health care: In a new term, I will ensure every poor county in America has a community or rural health center. And I will see to it that every American’s car is washed by the Federal Government every Wednesday, promptly and courteously, by the close of business. Whee! This is fun!

As I have traveled our country, I have met too many good doctors, especially OB-GYNS, who are being forced out of practice because of the high cost of lawsuits. To make health care more affordable and accessible, we must pass medical liability reform now. And in all we do to improve health care in America, we will make sure that health decisions are made by doctors and patients, not by bureaucrats in Washington, DC. Like, uh, limiting your ability to seek damages from a quack.

In this time of change, government must take the side of working families because it will be necessary to have just the right angle to push them out of the speeding car when the time comes. In a new term, we will change outdated labor laws to offer comp-time and flex-time. Our laws should never stand in the way of a more family-friendly workplace. The answer is always: more laws.

Another priority for a new term is to build an ownership society, because ownership brings security, and dignity, and independence. After all, if you own a nice condo and a bitchin’ Jeep Cherokee and a plasma-screen TV, you won’t much mind or notice that my friends own you.

Thanks to our policies, homeownership in America is at an all-time high. Tonight we set a new goal: seven million more affordable homes in the next 10 years so more American families will be able to open the door and say welcome to my home. You like that one? I got it off some Century 21 junk mail.

In an ownership society, more people will own their health plans, and have the confidence of owning a piece of their retirement. We will always keep the promise of Social Security for our older workers. How? Magic! With the huge Baby Boom generation approaching retirement, many of our children and grandchildren understandably worry whether Social Security will be there when they need it. We must strengthen Social Security by allowing younger workers to save some of their taxes in a personal account a nest egg you can call your own, and government can never take away. Lock Box, no; Nest Egg, si!

In all these proposals, we seek to provide not just a government program, but a path to greater opportunity, more freedom, and more control over your own life. Because only the government can provide you freedom and control over your own life. So when we tell you you’re “free”...you are! This path begins with our youngest Americans. To build a more hopeful America, we must help our children reach as far as their vision and character can take them. Tonight, I remind every parent and every teacher, I say to every child: No matter what your circumstance, no matter where you live your school will be the path to the promise of America. Just watch that first step ‘cos it’s a doozy.

We are transforming our schools by raising standards and focusing on results. We are insisting on accountability, empowering parents and teachers, and making sure that local people are in charge of their schools. By testing every child, we are identifying those who need help and we’re providing a record level of funding to get them that help. Sure, I know we’ve tested every child for the past 100 years and every previous year’s level of funding broke the record from the year before, but I’m halfway through reading this sumbitch now, and nothing will hold me back.

In northeast Georgia, Gainesville Elementary School is mostly Hispanic and 90 percent poor and this year 90 percent of its students passed state tests in reading and math. The principal expresses the philosophy of his school this way: “We don’t focus on what we can’t do at this school; we focus on what we can do. We do whatever it takes to get kids across the finish line.” This principal is challenging the soft bigotry of low expectations by forging test scores, and that is the spirit of our education reform, and the commitment of our country: Me voy a cagar en todos ustedes suenos. We will leave no child behind.

We are making progress and there is more to do. When you’re a “conservative”, these days, there’s always more to do.

In this time of change, most new jobs are filled by people with at least two years of college, yet even though I made it to the Oval Office somehow, overall only about one in four students gets there. In our high schools, we will fund early intervention programs to help students at risk. We will place a new focus on math and science. As we make progress, we will require a rigorous exam before graduation. Because term papers and Regents exams aren’t reliable indicators of subject mastery, so we’re instituting something called Freedom Finals that students can read like a comic book. By simulating raising performance in our high schools, and expanding Pell grants for low and middle income families, we will help more Americans start their career with a now-worthless college diploma and enough debt to bankrupt Chad.

America’s black and mestizo children must also have a healthy start in life. In a new term, we will lead an aggressive effort to enroll millions of poor children who are eligible but not signed up for the government’s health insurance programs. We will not allow a lack of attention, or information, or funds, to stand between these children and the health care they need.

Anyone who wants more details on my agenda can find them online. The web address is a lot like me: not very imaginative, but easy to remember. GeorgeWBush.com.

These changing times can be exciting times of expanded opportunity. As can a complete economic collapse, or an outbreak of plague, or a meteor attack. And here, you face a choice. The choice of believing that my opponent’s policies are dramatically different from ours, or of waking up. I know where my money’s riding on that one. Senator Kerry opposed Medicare reform and health savings accounts. After supporting my education reforms, he now wants to dilute them. He opposes legal and medical liability reform. He opposed reducing the marriage penalty, opposed doubling the child credit, and opposed lowering income taxes for all who pay them. And he would merely swear undying loyalty to Israel while I’ve killed literally hundreds of American kids defending Israel’s right to do whatever it pleases to whomever it pleases, whenever it pleases, so long as they come through with that temple. To be fair, there are some things my opponent is for: he’s proposed more than two trillion dollars in new federal spending so far, and that’s a lot, even for a senator from Massachusetts. To pay for that spending, he is running on a platform of increasing taxes and that’s the kind of promise a politician usually keeps. Unlike my own modest spending proposals, outlined above in purple crayon.

His policies of tax and spend of expanding government rather than expanding opportunity are the policies of the past. We are on the path to the future and we are not turning back, so bring on the robot hookers and that glowing silver ball Woody Allen got high on in SLEEPER.

In this world of change, some things do not change: the values we try to live by, the institutions that give our lives meaning and purpose and the fact that Israel is the bestest buddy a kid could ever ask for. Our society today rests on a foundation of abandoned responsibility and shiftless character and a grotesque caricature of family commitment.

Because family and work are sources of stability and dignity, I support welfare reform that strengthens family and requires niggers to at least mimic being at work. Because a caring society will value its weakest members, we must make a place for the unborn child. Because religious charities provide a safety net of mercy and compassion, our government must never discriminate against them. Because the union of a man and woman deserves an honored place in our society, I support the protection of marriage against activist judges. And I will continue to appoint federal judges who know the difference between personal opinion, political dissent and hate speech and will punish all three by wielding the strictest possible interpretation of the law like a cudgel. Okay, that takes care of the Falwell crowd.

My opponent recently announced that he is the candidate of “conservative values,” which must have come as a surprise to a lot of his supporters. Now, there are some problems with this claim. If you say the heart and soul of America is found in Hollywood, I’m afraid you are not the candidate of conservative values. If you voted against the bipartisan Defense of Marriage Act, which President Clinton signed, you are not the candidate of conservative values. If you gave a speech, as my opponent did, calling the Reagan presidency eight years of “moral darkness,” then you may be a lot of things, but the candidate of conservative values is not one of them. Go dig up Lester Maddox if you want a conservative candidate; ain’t nobody in here but us chickens. Buck, buck, buckbuckBUUUUCK. (applause)

This election will also determine how America responds to the continuing danger of terrorism and you know where I stand—wherever Cheney tells me to. Three days after September 11th, I stood where Americans died, in the ruins of the Twin Towers. Workers in hard hats were shouting to me, “Whatever it takes.” A fellow grabbed me by the arm and he said, “Do not let me down.” A third said, “Hey George, you’re a fuckin’ millionaire, how about loanin’ me twenty grand?” Since that day, I wake up every morning thinking about those first two men, and how to better protect our country. I will never relent in milking this “defending America” bit, whatever it takes.

So we have fought the terrorists across the earth not for pride, not for power, but for Israel and because our long degrading co-optation by Israel has placed the lives of our citizens at stake. Our strategy is clear. We have tripled funding for homeland security and trained half a million first responders, because we are determined to protect our newly-seized control of your homeland. We are transforming our military—and speaking of conservative family values, how ‘bout that Lynndie England?—and reforming and strengthening our intelligence services by simultaneously firing the people who warned us 9/11 was coming while promising never to laugh it off and do nothing about it, ever again. We are staying on the offensive, striking terrorists abroad so we do not have to face them here at home. And we are working to advance liberty in the broader Middle East, because freedom will bring a future of hope, and the peace we all want. And we will prevail.

Our strategy is succeeding. Four years ago, Afghanistan was the home base of al-Qaida, Pakistan was a transit point for terrorist groups, Saudi Arabia was fertile ground for terrorist fundraising, Libya was secretly pursuing nuclear weapons, Iraq was a gathering threat, and al-Qaida was largely unchallenged as it planned attacks. Today, the government of a free Afghanistan is growing opium again while playacting at fighting terror, Pakistan is capturing terrorist leaders—unfortunately they keep dying in custody, Saudi Arabia is making prearranged raids and arrests, Libya is dismantling its known weapons programs, the army of a free Iraq is fighting for freedom to carry a gun in a war zone, and more than three-quarters of al-Qaida’s key members and associates have been detained or killed. We have led, many have joined, thousands have died and America and the world are safer.

This progress involved careful diplomacy, clear moral purpose, countless bombs and bullets and some tough decisions. And the toughest came on Iraq. We knew Saddam Hussein’s record of aggression and support for terror. We knew his long history of pursuing, even using, weapons of mass destruction. We knew the instructions for the PNAC model-kit clearly said “to begin World War 4, invade Iraq”. And we know that September 11th requires our country to think differently: We must, and we will, confront threats to America before it is too late.

In Saddam Hussein, we saw a threat. Nobody not on AIPAC’s Christmas list saw anything at all, but members of both political parties, including my opponent and his running mate, saw the threat, and voted to authorize the use of force. We went to the United Nations Security Council, which passed a unanimous resolution demanding the dictator disarm, or face serious consequences. Leaders in the Middle East urged him to comply. After more than a decade of diplomacy, we gave Saddam Hussein another chance, a final chance, to meet his responsibilities to the civilized world by turning his country over to Israeli management and then promptly having himself executed on closed-circuit TV. He again refused, and I faced the kind of decision that comes only to the Oval Office; a decision no president would ask for, but must be prepared to make—a phone call to Ariel Sharon. Do I forget the lessons of September 11th and take the word of a madman, or do I take action to defend our country and take the word of another madman? Faced with that choice, I will go with the Jew and defend America every time.

Because we acted to defend our country, the murderous regimes of Saddam Hussein and the Taliban are history, more than 50 million people have been liberated at the point of a gun, and democracy is coming to the broader Middle East on the back of a tank. In Afghanistan, terrorists have done everything they can to intimidate people yet more than 10 million citizens have registered to vote in the October presidential election a resounding endorsement of democracy, after which their children were returned to them essentially unharmed. Despite ongoing acts of violence, Iraq now has a strong-smelling handpicked stooge of a Prime Minister, a national council who stick closely to the script, and the usual bogus national elections are scheduled for January. Our Nation is standing with the people of Afghanistan and Iraq, because when America gives its word to Israel, America must keep its word to Israel, no matter how many enemies they point out for us to kill. As importantly, we are serving a vital and historic cause that will make our country safer in about a hundred years or so. Free societies in the Middle East will be hopeful societies—hopeful that we let our guard down at some point—which no longer feed resentments and breed violence for export but instead unify the entire Muslim world towards a single purpose. We’re kinda hoping that purpose will be “celebrating the democratic process”. Free governments in the Middle East will bus tables for their IDF occupiers as they fight terrorists instead of harboring them, and that helps us keep the peace. So our mission in Afghanistan and Iraq is clear: We will help new leaders to train their armies, and move toward elections, and get on the path of stability and democracy as quickly as possible. And then our troops will return home with the honor they have earned.

Our troops know the historic importance of our work. One composite Army Specialist wrote home: “We are transforming a once sick society into a hopeful place. For instance, today we blew up the homes of the relatives of some people wanted for questioning. The various terrorist enemies we are facing in Iraq,” he continued, “are really aiming at you back in the United States. This is a test of will for our country. We soldiers of yours are doing great and scoring victories in confronting the evil terrorists. Gosh, I miss your milk and cookies, Mom. Give Lassie a great big hug for me.”

That young man might not actually exist but, nevertheless, he is right: our men and women in uniform are doing a superb job for America. Tonight I want to speak to all of them and to their families: You are involved in a struggle of historic proportion. We have assemboed a fighting fawce of extwawdinawy man-nitude. (chuckles) Little “Enter the Dragon” reference there, people, no cause for alarm. Anyway...right, right, soldiers’ families. Because of your service and sacrifice, we are defeating the terrorists where they live and plan, and making America safer in some vague metaphoric way not discernible to the naked eye. Because of you, women in Afghanistan are no longer shot in a sports stadium but are shot in the streets and in their homes, with dignity and freedom. Because of you, the people of Iraq no longer fear being executed and left in mass graves, just shallow ones. Because of you, the world is more than just dominated by Jews, it is now owned outright by them—and the sooner the nations of the world accept that fact, the sooner life will be more peaceful. We owe you our thanks, and we owe you something more. We will give you all the resources, all the tools, and all the support you need for victory. Ixnay on the orture-tay, though.

Again, my opponent and I have different approaches. I proposed, and the Congress overwhelmingly passed, 87 billion dollars in funding needed by our troops doing battle in Afghanistan and Iraq. My opponent and his running mate voted against this money for bullets, and fuel, and vehicles, and body armor. When asked to explain his vote, the Senator said, “I actually did vote for the 87 billion dollars before I voted against it.” Then he said he was “proud” of that vote. Then, when pressed, he said it was a “complicated” matter. There is nothing complicated about supporting our troops in combat. Either you kill for Israel or you’re a traitor to America.

Our allies also know the historic importance of our work, but they’re trying very hard not to think about that. About 40 nations stand beside us in Afghanistan, and some 30 in Iraq. And I deeply appreciate the courage and wise counsel of leaders like Prime Minister Howard, and President Kwasniewski, and Prime Minister Berlusconi and, of course, Prime Minister Tony Blair. All of whom are cringing at the sound of their names right about now.

Again, my opponent takes a different approach. In the midst of war, he has called America’s allies, quote, a “coalition of the coerced and the bribed.” That would be nations like Great Britain, Poland, Italy, Japan, the Netherlands, Denmark, El Salvador, Australia, and others allies that deserve the respect of all Americans, not the scorn of a politician. I respect every soldier, from every country, who serves beside us in the hard work of history. America is grateful, and America will not forget. Well, America actually doesn’t know or care that you’re even there, but then, that’s another of liberty’s great blessings: vacant self-absorption.

The people we have freed won’t forget either. Not long ago, seven Iraqi men came to see me in the Oval Office. They had Xs branded into their foreheads, and their right hands had been cut off, by Saddam Hussein’s secret police, the sadistic punishment for imaginary crimes. During our emotional visit one of the Iraqi men used his new prosthetic hand to slowly write out, in Arabic, a prayer for God to bless America. Then we turned them over to Lynndie England for debriefing with gimp masks, tasers and a shit-caked stick. This was a tragically unforeseeable setback for liberty, yet I am proud that our country remains the hope of the oppressed, and the greatest force for good on this earth.

Others understand the historic importance of our work. The terrorists know. They know that a vibrant, successful democracy at the heart of the Middle East will discredit their radical ideology of hate, because who doesn’t glow with happiness when “Yo! MTV Raps” and “Queer Eye” come on ten times a day apiece? They know that men and women with hope, and purpose, and dignity do not strap bombs on their bodies and kill the innocent; they put on IDF uniforms and kill the guilty. The terrorists are fighting freedom with all their cunning and cruelty because freedom is their greatest fear and they should be afraid, because freedom is on the march and “E! Wild on Baghdad” is on its way.

I believe in the transformational power of liberty: The wisest use of American strength is to advance freedom. As the citizens of Afghanistan and Iraq seize the moment and become our cultural Amway salesmen, their example will send a message of hope throughout a vital region. Palestinians will hear the message that democracy and reform are within their reach, and so is peace with our good friend Israel. You see, there’s no 5,000-year-old blood feud so ingrained that a few hot dogs at the ballpark can’t smooth over. Young women across the Middle East will hear the message that their day of equality and justice is coming. Young men will hear the message that there’ll be nudie booty on duty all across Arabia from now on, because “gender equality” inevitably means “more whores for everyone, praise Allah”. For no-fault nookie with “liberated” bimbos is a byproduct of liberty, and national progress and dignity are found in liberty, not tyranny and terror. Reformers, and political prisoners, and exiles, and Jewish mercantile interests will hear the message that their dream of freedom cannot be denied forever. And as freedom advances heart by heart, and nation by nation America will be more secure and the world more peaceful. It’ll be like living on a puffy pink cloud, only with perfect cable reception.

America has done this kind of work before and there have always been doubters. In 1946, 18 months after the fall of Berlin to allied forces, a journalist wrote in the New York Times, “Germany is a land in an acute stage of economic, political and moral crisis. European capitals are frightened. In every military headquarters, one meets alarmed officials doing their utmost to deal with the consequences of the occupation policy that they admit has failed.” End quote. Maybe that same person’s still around, writing editorials. Fortunately, we had a resolute president named Truman, who with the American people persevered, knowing not only that dropping atomic bombs on civilians, twice, was a moral use of power which saved lives— but also that a new democracy at the center of Europe would lead to stability and peace. Two for two, Harry. And because that generation of Americans held firm in the cause of liberty, we live in a better and safer world today. You know, even I can’t buy that one. Are you sure Dick wants it in?

The progress we and our friends and allies seek in the broader Middle East will not come easily, or all at once, or even partially, or even sometime during this century. Yet Americans, of all people, should never be surprised by the power of liberty to transform lives and nations. That power brought settlers on perilous journeys, inspired colonies to rebellion, ended the sin of slavery, and set our Nation against the tyrannies of the 20th century. We were honored to aid the rise of democracy in Germany and Japan and Nicaragua and Central Europe and the Baltics and that noble story goes on, headstone by headstone. I believe that America is called to lead the cause of freedom in a new century. I believe that millions in the Middle East plead in silence for their liberty. If you listen closely, it’s almost as if they’re NOT pleading for liberty—it really is remarkable. I believe that given the chance, they will embrace the most honorable, pimp-ass, blinged-out form of government ever devised by man. I believe all these things because freedom is not America’s gift to the world, it is the Almighty God’s gift to every man and woman in this world. And I believe masons control the weather, and have done so for hundreds of years now.

This moment in the life of our country will be remembered. Unfortunately, generations will know if we kept our faith and kept our word. Generations will know if we seized this moment, and used it to build a future of safety and peace. The freedom of many, and the future security of the few who own our Nation, now depend on us. And tonight, my fellow Americans, I ask you to stand with me.

In the last four years, you and I have come to know each other. Even when we don’t agree, at least you know what I believe and where I stand. You may have noticed I have a few flaws, too. People sometimes have to correct my English? I knew I had a problem when Arnold Schwarzenegger started doing it. Some folks look at me and see a certain swagger, which in Texas is called “walking.” Now and then I come across as a little too blunt and for that we can all thank the white-haired lady sitting right up there. And the less said about my world’s-biggest-asshole squint, the better.

One thing I have learned about the presidency is that whatever shortcomings you have, people are going to notice them and whatever strengths you have, you’re going to need them. I really had to learn that; it never occurred to me as, say, a child of six. These four years have brought moments I could not foresee and will not forget. I have tried to comfort Americans who lost the most on September 11th, people who showed me a picture or told me a story or accused me of stealing the election, so I would know how much was taken from them. I have learned first-hand that ordering Americans into battle is the hardest decision, even when it is right: I hope never to have to do it. I have returned the salute of wounded soldiers, some with a very tough road ahead, who say they were just doing their job. Wait, I think that might’ve been a movie I was watching the other night. Anyhow, I’ve held the children of the fallen, who are told their dad or mom is a hero, but would rather just have their dad or mom.

And I have met with parents and wives and husbands who have received a folded flag, and said a final goodbye to a soldier they loved. I am awed that so many have used those meetings to say that I am in their prayers to offer encouragement to me. Where does strength like that come from, to not do the selfish thing and obsess unfairly on their dead kid? How can people so burdened with sorrow also feel such pride in a mission to colonize a sovereign nation because Norman Podhoretz just wouldn’t stop insisting? It is because they know their loved one was last seen doing good. Well, obviously not that good, if they died, but you know what I mean. Because they know that liberty was precious to the one they lost. And in those military families, I have seen the character of a great nation: decent, and idealistic, and strong.

The world saw that spirit three miles from here, when the people of this city faced peril together, and lifted a flag over the ruins, and defied the enemy with their courage and went right on selling 9/11 t-shirts and miniature American flags to each other. My fellow Americans, for as long as our country stands, people will look to the resurrection of New York City and they will say: Here buildings fell, and here a nation rose, and the Jews got paid both times.

We see America’s character in our military, which finds a way or makes one. We see it in our veterans, who are supporting military families in their days of worry. We see it in our young people, who have found heroes once again. We see that character in workers and entrepreneurs, who are renewing our economy with their effort and optimism. And all of this has confirmed one belief beyond doubt: Having come this far, our tested and confident Nation can achieve anything. Now if only I still saw all that when I take off these glasses Cheney gave me. Damn!

To everything we know there is a season: a time for sadness, a time for struggle, a time for rebuilding. And now we have reached a time for hope. This young century will be liberty’s century, if we have to enslave the entire Middle East to do it. By promoting liberty abroad by eliminating all of the liberty-haters out there, we will build a safer world. By encouraging liberty at home via chip implant surveillance, martial law and duct tape, we will build a more hopeful America. Like generations before us, we have a calling from beyond the stars to stand for freedom. And I’ll give you a dollar if you can find a crazier sentence ever uttered by a sitting President. You’d have to cheat and crib a Jim Stockdale quote! This is the everlasting hashish-dream of FDR and Bernard Baruch’s America and tonight, in this place, that awful, rodent-snouted dream is renewed. Now we go forward grateful for our freedom, faithful to our cause, prepared to memorize the script of liberty Jews have thoughtfully provided to us, and confident in the future of the greatest nation on earth. And America as well.

God bless you, and may God continue to bless America. Strategery!

Anti-Semitism, Marquess of Queensbury

Fair and reasonable criticism of Jews must satisfy four criteria:

1. It must be factually true.

2. It must not be more severe than that which other ethnic groups are subjected to.

3. It must acknowledge the corresponding positive traits of Jews.

4. It must not aim to embarrass or insult.

Got it, I think. Let’s take ‘er for a test spin:

1. Jews invented, nurtured, funded and enforced Bolshevism.

2. However, Belgians are silly and the Inuit reek of fish.

3. Nevertheless, you can find some real bargains in pawn shops.

4. Not that being a parasite feeding off the poor, or a Bolshevik murderer, makes you a bad person.

Who’s next?

Appreciation, Fan

The line between mindless adulation and mindless rage is very, very thin; how many times have you seen footage of screaming fans descending on one pop-star or another and wondered if, given a breach in security, they wouldn’t have torn him limb from limb and ecstatically brandished the body parts to the cameras—waving a leg, a forearm, an eyeball still on its flapping stalk—in triumph?

Are, Where the Goys

As entertainment/leisure time options go, the Internet is cheap and filling and—once you’re properly disaffected enough with the system to notice—offers some actual content, and a place for you to have your voice heard if you chose to raise it. (This obviously doesn’t mean that anyone is listening, or that a raised voice is a valid voice. Individuals are responsible for their own idiocies; ZOG may appear larger than actual size in the rear-view mirror.)

Anonymous, Assaholics

Ponying up hundreds of dollars to sit courtside and cheer on sullen Negroes who, if they paid you any mind at all, would hate you, is the height of American assholism.

Back, How Shlomo Got His Groove

The wing nut holding the entire Axis of Evil together is, and has always been, “anti-Semitism”, the world’s single largest (and yet most flexible) umbrella, that can encompass 98% of the world’s population if need be. To hear them tell it, Auntie Semitism is as old as the hills yet as new as a falling snowflake, and we must be ever vigilant against it, and -uh- it goes under a thousand code names and, ummm...you can always tell an anti-Semite by, uhh, by his propensity to disagree with and/or mass-murder Jews. One always leads to the other, so it’s the same thing in the end. See? See how simple that is? See how easy it is to be a Good American?

Bashing, Gratuitous Gay

Little Nell here hopes you won’t notice that this is as much wishful thinking as when he pretends it’s him and not Judy Garland kissing the strong handsome boy in the movie. Click your ruby shoes three times, Dorothy: you’ve only been servicing ugly, desperate men in a public restroom after all. And that’s not wisteria and honeysuckle in the air—it’s shit and Lysol. I guess once you’ve gotten used to semen, you’ll swallow anything.

Bill, Dollar

Bill Bennett is one of these unelected permanent dinner guests at the public trough that Washington is infested with, and this particular moocher doesn’t appear to have missed many free feeds.

It is understood among such people that the price of such perpetual unearned privilege is paid by sticking to the script religiously when their moment arrives to read a cursory line of dialogue or two (to make it seem as if they’re doing something to justify their place at the table). It must be partisan enough to keep their own boobs happy, yet conciliatory enough to not anger the other boobs overmuch; loud enough to draw attention, but forgettable enough to allow you to resume your normal anonymity, undisturbed, once you sit back down to resume wetting your beak. Though Dollar Bill’s public felching of Israel is disgusting, I fail to see how it would read any differently had any other politician or professional hanger-on been asked to write that piece. Israel is the acid test proving the lie of American political bipartisanship and pluralism. On Israel, they all speak with one ventriloquist’s voice.

Guys like Bennett who drop millions at sucker-bait like progressive slot machines are answered prayers to casino managers, who know the key to cleaning out an idiot like Our Morality Czar is to simply keep him gambling by keeping him “happy”. That means comp liquor (and lots of it), a comp suite, complete with a comp hooker or two and maybe some Degenerate’s Little Helpers in the medicine cabinet. Big losers like Bennett who are only pissing away free money anyway (kindly point out to me what Bennett does that requires him being paid a fabulous compensation package out of taxpayer monies) are professionally “worked” like this by canny sharks every day. By the time a bleary-eyed Dollar Bill wanders out to the limo returning him to home and hearth, he’ll have violated any number of his own “virtues”. Nor would I rule out his receiving an out-the-door shot of penicillin from the house doctor at the Bellagio just to avoid any domestic “squabbles” in the aftermath. He is a regular, after all.

An insanely presumptious scenario? Maybe, but if anyone’s gonna stick to the script it’s a well-heeled slot-hound, who has no chance to do anything but lose and refuses to believe it. And the proof of it’s Bennett’s ludicrous claim that “you never hear about how much I’ve won from them, because they don’t want you to know that.” Sure, Bill. That’s how casinos stay in business, by deliberately giving the public the impression that it’s categorically impossible for anyone to win money at one.

Behind, Leaving No Black Or Girl Child

We don’t have Take Your Sons To Work Week in this country. We do have Give Your Son Ritalin And Quick, Before He Can Say “Nigger” Or Rape Someone Week, however.

Blind, The Bland Leading the

It is a measure of the glorious freedoms our democracy affords us that, as American boys continue to fight and die in greater and greater numbers—and God knows how many Iraqis die unmourned as “terrorists” for resisting the invasion and occupation of their homeland—none may speak aloud The Link That Is Not There And Never Was. In an election year, when the two opponents savagely pillory each other over the minutest wrinkles of policy as a matter of routine, there is an eerie unanimity of mindset regarding our One Reliable Ally In The Region. It’s almost frightening the way no dissension is brooked whatsoever.

“There’s a lot of work to do. What Prime Minister Sharon has done is started the work, and we’re prepared to help with the work. And now it’s up for responsible Palestinians, caring Europeans, Americans, the United Nations to step in”, sez Tweedle-Bush.

“I have a 100 percent record—not a 99, a 100 percent record—of sustaining the special relationship, the friendship that we have with Israel. I can guarantee you that if president, I understand not just how we do that but also how we need to end this sweetheart relationship with a bunch of Arab countries”, chimes in Tweedle-Kohn.

The deeper in we get, the less this has to do with Israel. Isn’t that the oddest coincidence?

Two whores working the same corner, for the same pimp, and neither willing to risk Mack Daddy Ariel’s anger. One hundred million Americans and Europeans could storm the streets tomorrow shouting OUT OF IRAQ NOW!—and a sparrow’s fart would register more audibly to either candidate. It’s a good time to be in the body-bag business. Welcome to Democracy Today.

Board, Almost-Remarks By President Bush At Gala Memorial For Brown vs.

THE PRESIDENT: Thank you all. Thanks a lot. Moochus grashus to our undocumented friends. Please be seated. Thank you all for coming out today. Please remember to deposit all chicken bones in a proper trash receptacle, people. Cheryl, thank you very much for your kind introduction. I appreciate all of the Brown family who are here...from high-yaller all the way to field-hand. Little diversity joke there, no harm meant. Please notice I said “field-hand”, media. We welcome Justice Breyer. That’s some good ice cream, Breyer. Governor Sebelius is with us today—Governor, thank you for being here. Leader Frist; Senator Brownback and Senator Roberts from the great state of Kansas. (Applause.) Congressman Jim Ryun—(applause)—Congressmen Tiahrt, Moran, and Moore, as well, from Kansas. (Applause.) Congressman Elijah Cummings—thank you for being here, Congressman. Say it clear: you’re black and you’re here. (Applause.) Secretary Norton, and Secretary Paige, distinguished guests; and ladies and gentlemen.

I’m honored to join you at this historic place, to mark a day and a decision that changed America for the better, and forever. (Applause.) Because that’s what we conservatives believe in: changing things forever. Fifty years ago today, nine judges announced that they had looked at the Constitution and saw no justification for the continued existence of an entire race. Here at the corner of 15th and Monroe, and in front of liquor stores and nail salons and numbers parlors all across America, that was a day of justice—and it was a long time coming.

For millions of European descent, however, the experience of social segregation began in a “choice” of indentured servitude made in the shadow of a gallows pole. A terrible civil war thinned out their ranks, but did not end their oppression. Generations of white American citizens grew up, and grew old, under laws designed to demean them. Under the rule of The Company Store, almost no detail of life escaped the supervision of cruel and petty men. The calluses on your hands, the cut of your clothing, and your familiarity with formal dinner cutlery often determined where you could get your hair cut, which hospital ward you could be treated in, which park or library you could visit, or who you could go fishing with. And children were instructed early in the customs of social division—at schools where they never saw the “respectable” white children who came from the right side of the tracks.

This was codified cruelty, at the service of the ruling class. But at least racial segregation helped ease the misery of these people who deserved better. But it offended the sensibilities of the privileged, who hated the common white people with malice in their hearts. Yet until our brave Jewish-Americans courageously took control of the media and the courts, segregation remained the last and best safety net ensuring that the lives, the families and the dreams of ordinary white America need not have six locks and a deadbolt on the door.

The legal challenges to school segregation began nearly 100 years before the UN helped bring Israel into being with the famous words, “5000-year old bill of sale? Heck, that makes it legal then”. In 1849, African American parents brought suit against Boston’s divided schools. These were poor and uneducated folks, however, who actually brought a coat and two pair of pants into court, and their motion was denied. Here in Kansas, segregation was challenged in several cases between 1881 and 1949. These early efforts did not bring victory; yet they inspired Yiddish bull-sessions in Brooklyn shuls and at party cell meetings that have spoken across the years. As Justice John Marshall Harlan wrote in his dissenting opinion in Plessy v. Ferguson: “In view of the Constitution, in the eye of the law, there is in this country no superior, dominant ruling class of citizens. The humblest is the peer of the most powerful. The law regards man as man, and takes no account of his surroundings, or of his color. Now let me know when the limo’s here—I’ve got a 10am tee-time.”

The fulfillment of that vision decades later fell to a small group of earnest and tenacious lawyers who saw the suicide gene in the white man that only needed to be properly cultivated. Two of them would travel thousands of miles together in a 1929 Ford, driving from courthouse to courthouse and pausing only to spit in front of the churches they passed, with Charles Hamilton Houston and young Thurgood Marshall typing briefs in the trunk. They documented the civil order and effectiveness—despite the often poor conditions—of white-only schools; the holes in the roofs, and dirt floors that ran with mud when it rained. And they saw and pursued a strategy to bring down the whole sorry structure of white society by gambling that the elites would rather congratulate themselves for their civic nobility by feeling sorry for Sidney Poitier than see the white trash who worked with their hands and picked their teeth at the dinner table ever sitting next to their wives and daughters in church.

Eventually, in December of 1953, Thurgood Marshall stood before the Supreme Court as counsel in a consolidated action involving four states and nearly 200 plaintiffs, including 13 families from Topeka, Kansas. Many legal arguments were advanced in the case. Yet the stakes were summarized in the brief Marshall presented to the Court. It stated, “Separate but equal is legalismic trickeration. There never was, and never will be, any separate equality. The shit is wack.” The Court agreed. As the decision was announced, some were waiting to see which justices would be in dissent. The answer came when a court clerk announced they’d long since left the building in disguise—in Bozo wigs, Groucho glasses, and gypsy fortuneteller babushkas—before any decent-sized mob could form. (Applause.)

The decision in Brown versus Board of Education did not end all segregation; did not even end school segregation for many years. The civil rights movement was still waiting on other heroes, other cases and laws, other hebes. Yet, all sides of the equation knew that on May 17th, 1954, a line had been crossed in American history. A new system of racial oppression had arrived in our country—one that would soon have little white girls in the first grade called “cracker-ass ho”s and fondled by ineducable pint-size predators—and the rising demand for white blood, like the ambient jungle sounds in a Tarzan movie, would not be denied.

Putting the Brown decision into effect would take many man-hours, and as many Jew-hours, shaping presidential orders; it would take the presence of federal troops and marshals, armed to the teeth; and, of course, the fear of death at the hands of those troops and marshals. One of the children who integrated Central High School in Little Rock was Melba Patillo. She recalls white students after gym class turning her shower to scalding. Others broke a bottle and tripped her on the glass, leaving scars that remain today. One fat kid with a drawl who later became President kept hounding and hounding her for a hummer behind the bleachers.

Yet, Melba has other memories, as well. She says, “I was on TV evvy day an’ whatnot, an’ they was a feeling of pride that we was livin’ in the United Stizzies; that now I gots a reason to salute the flag cuz, yo, check it, I’m gettin’ paid what I’m owed for, you know, slavery an’ whatnot. Can’t no devil say we stoopit no mo’ cuz now evvybody know a nigga done discover the refrigamator.” (Applause.)

In the years after Brown, many would know the fears and insults this young woman had faced. A court can make an order, but it was an entire race of people that had to walk the gauntlet of Negro crime and social collapse which that order would create over time. In the end, even the race traitor elite found themselves infected with the scourge they’d thought themselves above contracting. And America’s dual citizens are still grateful for every white assaulted and murdered in the past 50 years since, compared to a shine, a Scheinblum seems downright benovelent. (Applause.)

In many ways, the America destroyed in this building seems so long ago. We tend to think of it as a distant dream we once had about a different country. And that makes it easy for the jew in your living room to convince you that everything you know is wrong and that America was a lawless pesthole of handlebar mustaches and hate back then, where no family picnic was complete without Dad opening a wriggling canvas sack to reveal a bound-and-gagged darkie, ready for lynching, to delight Mother and the kids. For the segregation that made America the greatest of nations is a false living memory that must be deprogrammed round the clock with rap videos, Ken Burns documentaries and the Oprah Book Club. Yet our task is far from completed. The spirit of every white person in America has not yet been broken. Bow down before Jew and nigger both—and stay down, we’re coronating chinks and beaners next must be taught to every generation. Racial discrimination must be vigorously enforced in education and housing and hiring and public accommodations: there must be not only unqualified Negroes present in every area of American life—there must also be unqualified Negro supervisors. Many African Americans with no inheritance but their pigment, their stench and their foot-long tootsie rolls need access to capital—your capital—and the chance to own and build for the future without working or saving. And while our schools are no longer segregated by law, they are still not equal in opportunity and excellence. Justice requires more than a place in a school—it requires a Glock 9mm, a Benz with cheetah-fur upholstery, and your daughter poledancing in a thong. (Applause.)

America has yet to reach the high calling of its Jewish ideals. Perhaps that is because they all lead to an empty elevator shaft behind a door marked ENTER. Yet we’re a nation that strives to feel good about ourselves right this minute, and hopes we’re dead by the time the bill marked “Final Disconnect Notice” comes. The white working class is almost finished now—marginalized and downsized and exiled to strip malls and video poker and low-priced generic cigarettes and watching MAURY twice a day and fighting in Iraq. Yet there is much work still to be done. And so today we honor those who author our failures, exploit our weaknesses, correct our common sense, chart our doomed course, and make us an ex-people. On this day, in this place, we remember with gratitude the Chosen People who saw a great wrong—yet who stood their ground and perpetrated it anyway. And we celebrate a millstone on the history of our glorious nation.

Thank you for having me. May God bless America. Strategery! (Applause.)

Bond, Goodbye Mr.

“I have long thought that there were forces in France intent on reducing the American role in the world. That is more troubling than the stance of a German chancellor, who has been largely rejected by his own people,” Perle said, referring to the sharp electoral defeat suffered by Chancellor Gerhard Schroeder’s party in state elections Sunday. “But in the German case, the behavior of the Chancellor is idiosyncratic. He tried again to incite pacifism, and this time failed in Sunday’s elections in Hesse and Lower Saxony. His capacity to do damage is now constrained. Chancellor Schroeder is now in a box, and the Germans will recover their equilibrium.”

Not just crazy; Kubrick-crazy. Ernst-Stavros-Blofeld-crazy!

Today, we settle all family business, smiles Richard Perleone. And the Racial Crime Syndicate masquerading as a Persecuted Religion marches on to their next victory.

I’m reminded of the scene in BEDAZZLED where Peter Cook, as an upper-class incarnation of Lucifer, remarks offhandedly while adjusting his pool-cue for a bridge shot, “All it would take is one or two lunatics negotiating—and before you’d know it we’d be plunged into a nuclear peace that could shake the free world to its very foundations.”

Bugchasers

One sad passage captures a young man in New York City who wants to be infected: “His eyes light up as he says that the actual moment of transmission, the instant he gets HIV, will be ‘the most erotic thing I can imagine.’”

If you think that’s a turn-on, Mary, just wait till you feel that silk and crinoline coffin-lining against your skin. To die for!

Burden, White Man’s Galactic

If aliens from Pluto landed on Earth tomorrow, by Thursday a Jew will have put the first Hard-working Plutonian-American’s dream becomes a nightmare of racism op-ed to bed; followed by a flurry of Friday Beltway press conferences announcing that America has always been a multiplanetary society as party hacks one-up each other furiously to get their name on the bill funding free medical care and housing vouchers for Undocumented Spacemen. I stress: only WHITE people could be, and are, this stupid and suicidal. Only if we were 12% of the population would there be no advocacy journalism or fact-finding commissions: we’d simply be hunted for sport.

Charge, Charles in

ROCKVILLE, Md. (Jan. 26)—Charles Moose, the Montgomery County Police Chief who led the D.C.-area sniper investigation, plans to announce a deal for a book and possibly a movie about him, according to a published report.

Kicking around some working titles.

NIGGA PLEEZ CHIEF

WHITE WIFE, WHITE VAN

LAW AND ODOR

2002: A RACE ODYSSEY

QUOTA COP! (ok, this would be a paperback original...)

Perhaps he’ll favor us with one of those “inspiring” autobios stressing his early poverty, strong religious beliefs and struggles against racism in law enforcement: Jesus And Crackers, maybe, or Let No White Man Write My Fitness Report.

Or a Chandler/Cain pastiche: Dumbbell Indemnity, featuring Sham Spade.

Or a Holmesian locked-door myst...(dragged offstage by white coated orderlies, still raving).

Chauffeur, NBA Star Kills White

Am listening to sports-talk radio this afternoon and you would not believe the parade of invertebrates calling in to offer nervous-nellie praise for the Jayson Williams decision: “I think it’s fair, after all it was an accident”; “Maybe something positive will come from this—nothing positive could come out of Jayson rotting away in jail”; and my favorite, “He isn’t a criminal, he didn’t mean for the gun to go off”.

All of these callers were white, I’m sad to say. You have to laugh at Negroes blaring “racism” after witnessing Wichita-wannabes like this volunteering their PIN numbers from the back seat, and pointing out a nice secluded gravesite to their carjackers through their gag.

The most sickening aspect of this? White Americans will be jockeying each other out of position to consign Williams’ victim, dead chauffeur Gus Christoffi, to the unperson-dustbin in the race to prove that I Am Not A Racist. That weird loner over there, maybe...and those yahoos down South, sure; but not us. Never us. No matter how many Negro murderers we have to champion to prove it!

Clover, The Doctor Is in

Few years ago, I’d read a “salaries-of-executives” report in one of the financial magazines. They’d noted that the president of an HMO (since gone to earth) was pulling down $29 million in salary...plus stock options.

I don’t know the duties of an HMO president but I know it ain’t seeing patients or working a tongue depressor. Though I’m sure some publicist-cum-apologist would assure me that said exec was in charge of vitally important and incredibly-intricate areas of the company that simply couldn’t be accomplished on, say, a $27 million dollar salary...I wonder. But whatever he did wasn’t good enough, as that HMO is now history. Maybe if they hadn’t been so tight with a buck and paid him 30 or 35 mill, he might’ve been able to keep the ship afloat...?

America now more than ever is ruled by a mentality of the Sunday punch: get it all now and fuck “later”. An overpaid worker who does something seems less a part of the problem than the quietly tasteful empty-suit executive front-loading his “compensation package” to pull down 20, 30, 50, 100 million dollars a year...who, incidentally—should the whole shebang come crashing down after he bails with the plane’s only parachute—can always count on economic-policy wonks to “explain” it all in soporifics that nobody can stay awake through, let alone fuel their anger from.

I could be wrong. It could be the guy with the 3 kids earning 75 or 100 grand whose fault it all is for not taking a sizable pay cut. The $29 million a year CEO might be underpaid for his contributions. But I wonder just the same.

Control, Collateral Damage

If Bush had any bluff exterior or sincerity-mimicking gifts at all, he might have just squeaked by with stonewalling any effort at a sound, thorough 9/11 investigation by offering the public sound bites and the steely set of his jawline instead. But his soundbites are tapioca, his jawline is Waterford crystal, and the dumb fuck can’t open his mouth without the Dow plunging 300 pts.

There’s a nagging fear—if not a nagging certainty—haunting even the neo-leaning sheep with the flag decals on their Toyotas: something stinks. When the worst mainland disaster in American history takes place—and 15 minutes later, every TV station is abuzz with retired-military lobbyists and Jew think-tankers wrapping up Bin Laden and Afghanistan in a neat little bow—something stinks. If nobody but nobody saw it coming, why did everybody but everybody have the exact same answer ready as the burning bodies were leaping out of 100th-floor windows? The fact that this answer was found so pleasing and salutary for Business As Usual that no serious effort at uncovering what happened, and why, will ever be greenlighted until all possible evidence trails are icy cold just underscores that there were a whole LOTTA people ready with the answers before there were even any questions.

What I halfway think, but don’t want to be true, is that America knows this is a put-up job but prefers NOT to know what happened. Even Joe Sixpack, who can’t find his own home state on a world atlas, let alone Turkmenistan, takes one look at Bush’s Satisfied Customer In An Infomercial line delivery and knows. Nobody loses 4,000 people and commits to a multi-trillion-dollar, 20-year war of reprisal and conquest without a full investigation of What Happened, Who Did It, and Why. Unless they were just looking for an excuse all along.

Hey, kid: ever see a Reichstag burn twice?

Corner, Sci-Fi

When telepathy becomes common in 2106, will whites be blamed because blacks have no thoughts to read?

Critic, Trash, Art and the Movie

Eastertime now usually means a graphically gory cinematic blockbuster opening in 3000 theaters, which this year means Sin City: a CGI extravaganza featuring hookers, psychos, bent cops, angelic pole dancers, and cannibal pedophile priests, and full to bursting with multiple lovingly-rendered mutilations, decapitations, castrations and scenes of people being eaten while still alive. The critics are on their knees, hosanna’ing with awe and delight.

By interesting coincidence, last Easter another bloody and violent release captured the public’s fancy. True, it was only based on a historical occurrence that has had wide global significance for the past 2000 years as opposed to a comic book that shows you tits, but what’s interesting is that those exact same critics not only didn’t love it, but they hated it for the very reason they adore Sin City.

Isn’t it funny how much difference one little year makes? Or maybe it’s something else. See if you can tell which blurb refers to which movie, ‘kay?

E! Online
A two-hour bloodbath.
You’re gonna love it.

Tom Long, Detroit News
“The Passion of the Christ” will surely be the feel-awful movie of a lifetime, a filmed bloodletting like no other on record, essentially a terribly graphic two-hour torture sequence. It’s hard to imagine anyone enjoying this film (and please, please, don’t anyone take a child to this movie). Gibson would doubtlessly defend it as realistic, which it may well be. But watching a man have the skin flayed from his bones as his blood sprays the faces of his attackers, and while his mother looks on in horror, isn’t really drama...it is butchery. The question becomes, are we going to linger on horror in the name of accuracy? Is this one case worthy of drastic examination? Myself, I wish I’d never seen it.
“Sin City” is a teenage boy’s dream-nightmare come true, a cauldron of violence, vengeance and sexual sensationalism that revels without pause in its own shameless celebration of twisted fantasies. It’s loud, large, sick and a whole lot of fun. Understand, there’s no way you want to miss this movie. “Sin” is worth any penance you have to pay.

Josh Bell, Las Vegas Weekly
This is crucifixion-as-popcorn-flick, since Gibson gives us a horror-movie-style Satan, hordes of extras, a fight scene and Monica Bellucci as Mary Magdalene, last seen cavorting with a messiah of a different sort in the Matrix sequels. I simply saw a brutal and well-crafted film, the story of a nice guy with some really bad luck. Gibson’s reverence for his source material is like Peter Jackson’s reverence for Tolkien: a good adaptation, nothing more.
A treasure for both cineastes and those looking simply to be dazzled for two hours.

Slant Magazine
A high-art snuff film...an unhealthy, inhuman, pornographic, masochistic torture mechanism.
An exhilarating tapestry of valor, selfishness, deceitfulness, and martyrdom.

David Edelstein, Slate
This is a two-hour-and- six-minute snuff movie—The Jesus Chainsaw Massacre—that thinks it’s an act of faith.
I loved it, I loved it, I loved it. I loved every gorgeous sick disgusting ravishing overbaked blood-spurting artificial frame of it.

Ken Hanke, Mountain Xpress (Asheville, NC)
In many ways, in fact, The Passion could qualify as a horror film. Everything you may have heard about the movie’s extremely graphic violence—almost to the point of being sadistic—is true. If this were a horror film instead of an “edifying” religious drama, it would have been sent back for cuts or had an NC-17 slapped on it. In a perfect world, I’d be able to overlook all the baggage that comes with The Passion; however, Gibson’s high-profile, right-wing, homophobic, misogynistic pronouncements, and the movie’s equally high-profile, built-in controversy, make that impossible.
This is the vilest, most disgusting and most violent film I’ve seen in some time. It’s also one of the most entertaining exercises in total stylization and pitch-black humor to ever hit the screens. Early on, I lost track of the number of decapitations and dismemberments, but the film also boasts two castrations, pedophilia and cannibalism as well as attacks on the Catholic Church, the judicial system and government in general. My partner in movie-reviewing crime, Marci Miller, told mutual acquaintances that the movie made her sick, adding, “I’m sure Ken will love it”—thereby proving that she’s an excellent judge of character.

New York Daily News
The movie is a compendium of tortures that would horrify the regulars at an S&M club.
It leaves you breathless as only a movie can.

Jean Lowerison, San Diego Metropolitan
A story of betrayal and vindictiveness leading to a mind-numbing gorefest that provokes exhaustion more than it inspires the “tolerance, love and forgiveness” which is one of Gibson’s stated aims.
The question at hand seems to be this: how many disgusting ways can you make a man die—and how many times? “Sin City” features lots of limb-hacking and sticking of heads in toilets, along with other, less amusing methods. There’s even a cannibal. There’s plenty of style, and some fine direction by Robert Rodriguez. Give “Sin City” a whirl.

Eric Lurio, Greenwich Village Gazette
BLOOD GORE PAIN!!!!!! Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Brilliant, but repulsive. It’s like a car wreck. We can’t take our eyes off it. You won’t either.

Roger Moore, Orlando Sentinel
Bloody to the point of gruesome, moving without being inspiring.
...over-the-top characters, situations and dialogue, violence that wallows in sadism, remorseless executions, savage beatings and multiple shootings that no human being could survive; human ugliness taken to its lowest level. It is the flat-out coolest looking movie to come along in years.

Bill Muller, Arizona Republic
The basic message of Christianity—love your brother—is obscured under torrents of blood to the point of benumbing the audience.
Every now and then, a movie does more than gamely defend the status quo...but actually advances the art form. So it is with Sin City.

Andrew Sarris, New York Observer
Whereas the words say love, love, love, the sounds and images say hate, hate, hate.
In the end, I liked Sin City in spite of myself.

Gabriel Shanks, Mixed Reviews
As a film—and more importantly, as a document of faith—it is a dismayingly simplistic, obvious, overbearing waste remarkable only for the quantities of blood it spills.
As close to a museum-quality work of visual art as Hollywood as ever seen.

efilmcritic.Com
“The Passion” gives us the bloodiest, goriest, flesh-rippingest film your churchgoing grandma will ever want to see. Gibson focuses on every lashing, every punch, every stumble with the attention of a faithful Catholic. Jesus fell three times? We see all three. The trouble with the film, however, isn’t about the existence or nonexistence of anti-Semitism. It’s about story gaps. As much as I loved the lush production values, it simply does not work plotwise.
Sin City quenched the taste of blood I hadn’t had in a long time. Not a quarter of an hour could tick away on the hands of time before someone was shot, stabbed, electrocuted, exploded, emasculated, decapitated or eaten. It was beautiful. True artists merge their inspirations and bring us out of one hell into a completely different one only to hear us mutter “Thank you.”

Angela Baldassarre, Sympatico.CA
Emotional, violent, extreme and very gory; a difficult and grotesque experience for most viewers.
Violent, filthy, sexist and nasty; mesmerizing, inventive and awe-inspiring; absolutely riveting. Raymond Chandler would’ve been proud.

Jules Brenner (FC), Variagate.Com
If Gibson imagined that this extended detailing of sadism would somehow be inspirational, he needs to be taken off his biblical steroids.
Prepare your own mind to accept extreme super violence as kid’s play, nothing more. If you’re repelled, you’re just not getting the creative intention. Fear of influence on impressionable minds should be the least of your worries.

Ty Burr, Boston Globe
Brutal almost beyond powers of description, yes. More obsessed with capturing every holy drop of martyr’s blood and sacred gobbet of flesh than with any message of Christian love. In the film’s present-tense scenes, Christ has already had his face smashed in, but that’s just an entr’acte. This is scriptural fidelity as fetishism. But how can it be otherwise? To Gibson, each drop is holy, so the more of it the better. Each chunk of flesh dug out by the lash is Christ’s sacrifice in all its beauty, so bring it on. As filmmaking it’s somewhat silly. It’s not your Unitarian grandma’s tea-cosy religion; for one thing, Christian forgiveness seems in short supply...the naked, risen Jesus who strides forth from the tomb in the last shot of the film, to the solemn thrum of martial music, does not seem very interested in love. Why should he be? He’s off to war.
It’s been a long three months, but the dry season is over: “Sin City” is the first great Hollywood joy ride of the year. Hyperstylized and ultra-ultra-violent, this adaptation of Frank Miller’s two-fisted cult comic book series barrels through a black-and-white moral landscape like a runaway bullet train, and it makes no stops for those with delicate constitutions to stagger off. The film is a stunning, visceral piece of work—cheap thrills polished to the level of high art. Rodriguez and Miller’s digital world feels more hyper-real, more urgent, than the mundane one waiting outside the multiplex.

Rick Groen, Toronto Globe And Mail
So obsessively and so graphically bloody-minded that it comes perilously close to the pornography of violence.
Sin City gives sin a great name—it’s never looked so gorgeous.

And...if this were a Letterman top-10 list...the Number 1 idiot-critic. and shining exemplar of the worthlessness of a liberal-arts education...

MaryAnn Johanson, Flick Filosopher
Lisa: “The mound builders worshipped turtles as well as badgers, snakes, and other animals.”
Bart: “Thank God we’ve come to our senses and worship a carpenter who lived 2,000 years ago.”
That bit of snarkiness, courtesy of the always profane The Simpsons, highlights why we cannot talk about Mel Gibson’s piece of cinematic insanity as “just a movie.” We have not, as a culture, come to our senses. There is nothing “just a movie” about this self-flagellating exercise in inciting mass religious frenzy. This isn’t a movie: it’s a theme-park ride for Jesus freaks. “SEE the hunks of flesh ripped from Jesus’ side! EXPERIENCE the stations of the cross like never before!” There’s no reason or logic to it. But I guess once you start talking to an invisible superhero who lives in the sky and can see you all the time—even in the bathroom—reason and logic kinda go out the window. And that’s the worst thing about the circus surrounding this film, and the real reason why it cannot be seen as “just a movie.” The people who in all seriousness buy into this stuff have an influence way out of proportion with the sense they make, which is little, and get a free pass on their fairy stories—I’ve seen not one suggestion anywhere, in all the media’s fawning delirium over this film, that perhaps Jesus never existed or, if he did, was nothing but a crazy guy who roamed the desert, got his brain a little too sunbaked, and merely thought he was God. And there’s been not one scrap of discussion about whether his legacy has been something we could have done without.
This is a vile place, oozing corruption from every orifice, where integrity and honesty in the institutions of authority have long since fled. This is a place where a man or a woman wielding a gun or a knife (and they all do) makes no threats—he or she just proceeds instantly to inflicting the worst. This is a place where there is no time for threats: you hesitate, you die. This is no place you want to be. And yet, when the U.S. attorney general condones and justifies torture, and vigilantes are patrolling the border with Mexico, and neo-Nazi kids are shooting up high schools, is there any doubt that we’re all living in Sin City right now? It’s one of the most disgusting, most sickening things I think I’ve ever seen in a movie. It’s depressing, and it’s miserable. And it’s thoroughly exhilarating to see a film like this one not prettying up the nastiness of the world, just acknowledging it head-on.

Thus far, re: Sin City at least, we have yet to hear from David Denby (“The movie Gibson has made from his personal obsessions is a sickening death trip, a grimly unilluminating procession of treachery, beatings, blood, and agony”), Owen Gleiberman (“Blood-soaked pop theology for a doom-laden time, its effect that of a gripping yet reductive paradox: it lifts us downward”) or the Boston Herald’s James Verniere (“Gibson...seems determined to prove that Jesus suffered more than anyone who has ever lived, a tiresomely literal argument at best, an exercise in sadomasochistic bullying at worst”). Somehow, I think they’re gonna write themselves, don’t you?

Consequences, Truth and

The more rhetorical overkill you use to denigrate an opponent the more sympathy you engender for him. The way they go on and on and ON with their talk of the “monster”, the “maniac”, the “new Hitler”, the “baby raper”, the “Kurd gasser”...please. One more word and I’m starting the Saddam Hussein Fan Club, complete with an ID card, a snazzy patch, press-on decals for your ten-speed bike and a parchment-paper certificate, suitable for framing.

Earth to Zion: when we say these things about you—with documented proof ‘n’ footnotes even!—you guys bum rush your media platforms to laugh us off as psychologically-disturbed, cognitively-dissonant haters—toothless sister-climbers consumed with jealousy of our Jewish betters.

Just do us all a favor and keep it up. Talk...talk...talk your way into the same cattle car and sulfur pit you always do. If there’s one thing you can trust a Jew on, it’s to always gloat himself right off the cliff’s edge. Please don’t let us down now, fellas.

Couldn’t, The Little Corporate Media Venture That

I can tell you the deep dark evil hidden reason MSNBC yanked Pat’s plug, and that reason is nobody was watching the damn show. (It’s not like this is unheard of at MSNBC, where ‘a viewing audience’ continues to be an unsubstantiated rumor.) And anyway the only times I’ve seen Pat remotely sounding like Pat have been guest appearances on other people’s shows, anyway—his Buchanan & Press gig was a half-hearted dilution of Crossfire into a pseudo-edgy national affairs talkfest growing more tapioca with each passing year.

For as much as we dump on FoxNews, somebody should be noting that MSNBC was never less insulting, it was just insulting in a bland, Ken-and-Barbie-doll staffed, simulacrum of a real news network manner.

I knew the network’s days were numbered when eye-candy anchordoll Ashley Banfield adopted the strategy—about a year or so into her tenure—of wearing glasses on-camera in a purely cosmetic attempt to appear...uhhh...“smart” and “professional”. This is a level of transparency you’d previously have expected only from Sly Stallone or Adam Sandler.

Watching this made me not only nostalgic for middle-aged, untelegenic news readers like Chet Huntley and Harry Reasoner but left me wondering—if America’s next ridiculous fashion trend among the status-hungry was the return of Renaissance garb for the elites...how long before you’d turn on the news and see Steve Kroft in a plumed hat and high-boy collar reading the day’s Pentagon press releases from Iraq?

Cradle, The 2% That Rocks the

According to the institute, there are now some 12.9 million Jews in the world.

Surrounding the other six billion of us on all sides.

Defeat, The Victory of

I just don’t get it with the “worse is better” crowd. 40 years ago, there were doubtless voices calling for more civil rights legislation because “once whites see the outrageous abuses that will doubtless ensue, they will surely rise up to seize back their country”. Then it was affirmative action. Let’s push that through, because once white America has their nose rubbed in color-based hiring and promotions, she would surely reach her limit and revolt. Ditto with every other social horror and/or knucklehead policy guaranteed to either tip the demographic balances or mongrelize/degrade white society and our kids while we wait for the demographics to adjust. Every new shovel of gravedirt in the Old America’s face has been touted as the vicious tonic necessary to awaken us into restoring the Republic...except that it never does. To the “worse-is-better” crowd, every next outrage is devoutly to be wished for because surely this will be the straw to break the camel’s back. The result is white acquiescence grows ever more passive, ever more compliant to whatever it’s told.

You know what repamarations will accomplish? Even-higher taxes...still-wealthier “community activists”...and the exact same uneducable, sullen, foot-shuffling “victims” demanding preferences, apologies, special holidays, a festive ribbon around their free cheese, etc. Oh, yeah, one other thing. It will further demoralize and deflate what white people are left. Hell, we might get more wiggers out of the deal! It’s simply a measure of how far we’ve fallen that this kind of math (enough consecutive defeats = eventual glorious victory) actually makes sense to a few people; but I believe that only in wrestling do an accumulation of crippling blows act as an invigorating wake-up call to the good guys. And, uhh, wrestling is fake. In real life, after you hit a guy over the head with a stout wooden chair, he doesn’t get really really pissed, he stays down for good in a crumpled heap and begins singing “Bingo Was His Name-o” in a child’s voice.

Defense, When I Kill You It’s Self

When the fighting stops, Sharon intends for the Fatah-dominated Palestinian Authority to be as dead as the Iraqi Baath Party. Any future Palestinian government will have to conform to the criteria America has set for self-government in Baghdad: constitutional government and a full commitment to peace.

Those wacky Jews. When they’re not seeing “Holocaust deniers” in cloud-formations, they’re calling for genocide in code with a taxpayer-funded swagger in their step. Jews demand—in print!—the violent overthrow of nations, and the premeditated murders of troublesome individuals, all the time. But if you notice this, out loud, you’re practically in the human-soap business.

Deniability, Preserving

WASHINGTON, June 10 (JTA)—With each new report of troubles in Iraq, some Jews are getting nervous and reaching for their Popeil Marrano-In-A-Can emergency-crucifixes.

Even though many Jews opposed the U.S. war in Iraq as of two weeks ago last Thursday—and the organized Jewish community did not vocalize the strong support some had anticipated in the lead-up to the war by, say, enlisting their sons in the US Armed Forces to fight it—a few leading voices in Washington have portrayed the Jewish community as overwhelmingly in favor of toppling Saddam Hussein. Which isn’t true: I mean, all we ever wanted was that he should maybe die a little.

The bizarre total coincidence that some of the strongest supporters for the war, both in and out of the Bush White House, are Jewish has led some Holocaust deniers and suspected child-molesters to equate the political philosophy of neo-conservatism with support for Israel.

Now that a strong wind has blown some of our chesspieces off the board, some Jewish leaders have expressed concern that the surviving relatives of the goyishe cannon-fodder may be manually overriding their Schindler’s List default settings and scapegoating Jews for their children’s deaths. Anti-Semitic candidates and advocates already are suggesting that Jewish and pro-Israel voices led the country into war, as if such a thing were remotely possible. C’mon: us? We’re merely violin-playing, deeply-religious shopkeepers who stuff envelopes for The United Way every other weekend!

“Certainly, there is a significant portion of the goyim who will awaken to this,” said Malcolm Hoenlein via Yiddish flash-cards to the assembled Presidents of Associations of Conferences of Federations of Major American Jewish Organizations gathered around the card-table in his rec-room. “It’s a warning to us to buy up every English translation of the Talmud that might be out there on booksellers’ shelves. Absent another false-flag job, it’s not something we can dismiss.”

The problematic characterizations of Jews have come from high places.

Last month, Sen. Ernest "Fritz" Hollings (D, SC), well-known as the single most powerful man in the Western hemisphere, wrote in a newspaper column in his home state that he believed the Bush administration went to war to secure Israel and win Jewish votes. He followed the column with a speech on the Senate floor, chastising the American Israel Public Affairs Committee for its influence over Middle East policy.

A week later, retired Marine Gen. Anthony Zinni, a former presidential envoy in the Middle East, suggested in an interview with CBS News that hawks in the Bush administration backed the Iraq war in part to strengthen Israel, and named some prominent Jews in the administration as the plan’s key architects before any Photo-Shopped 8 x 10s of him shaking hands with Timothy McVeigh could be distributed to the media.

Even before the war began, Rep. James Moran (D, VA) suggested that Jewish leaders were banging the war drums. Of course, since that was completely untrue, Moran was immediately stripped of his leadership post in the Democratic caucus because of the comments.

This week, however, Moran handily triumphed over a challenger in a primary election, leading some Jewish officials to express concern that loose wiring in the joystick-controllers led to the slow response time from our Fox News Channel attack dogs.

He won the Democratic nomination for his district with 59 percent of the vote, defeating Andy Rosenberg, a Jewish lawyer. It hardly need be said that the defeat of any Jewish candidate clearly indicates a disturbing rise in anti-Semitism, although this would have been more evident had there been more Jewish headstones in the county cemetary for the Rosenberg campaign team to spray-paint swastikas on and kick over.

“It does underscore the need not to be complacent about statements made by public figures that suggest scapegoats,” said Jess Hordes, Washington director for the Anti-Defamation League, adding, “Mel Gibson’s father: it’s HIS fucking fault.”

Moran’s victory had more to do with his 14-year incumbency than with Israel, political analysts on the payroll said. Additionally, the tendency to blame the war principally on supporters of Israel is confined mostly to Stalinist traitors who want bad things to happen to Our Boys, and the French.

Nonetheless, Jewish groups seek a quick retort when such comments enter the public record, preferably delivered by government troops armed with flamethrowers.

“We rely on the common sense and wisdom of the average JOE MILLIONAIRE viewer, and our public-service marionettes to stand up and say, ‘I am today proposing legislation that will seek jail time for anyone who publicly utters such hateful, hateworthy and hate-ass Hate’”, Hordes said.

Over the past year, Jewish views on the war have mirrored those of the general public. Even though one year and one day ago they all howled for Arab blood and demanded Iran, Syria, Egypt and Riyadh all be next.

Some Jews backed the war in Iraq, believing a change in regime in Baghdad would make Israel safer. Bush touted the goals of the war to AIPAC last month, winning rousing applause in the form of campaign contributions that would make George Soros blush.

But many other Jews—at least fifty and possibly sixty—hesitated. Some feared Israel would be used as a scapegoat, and meekly threatened to fire off their nuclear arsenal at European capitals in a fit of Anne Frank-like sobbing. Others believed the evidence against Saddam did not warrant military action, but merely targeted assassinations of his cabinet and family members.

Still others felt the war should not be carried out without a larger international coalition, wondering with irritation what their ownership of world media was buying them if not an IDF auxiliary unit comprised of five or ten million stooges in an assortment of designer uniforms.

The Israeli government, which favored regime change, stayed quiet, not wanting to spark allegations that the war was being fought for Israel’s benefit until Bush’s dog-and-pony 9/11 commission had buried the AMDOCS and art-student connections, and provided them the all-important “shave and a haircut” knock indicating the coast is clear.

No matter their view of the invasion, American Jewish officials want to debunk the idea that Jews fostered the war or that, if they supported it, benefit to Israel was a primary factor. Nor was the Shin Bet’s involvement with coalition forces anything more than stopping by to read the complementary newspapers in the lobby.

“I don’t think we’ve reached the critical mass of people believing these absurd statements,” Hordes said. “But statements like these need to be challenged, or I’m going to have to change my last name. Again.”

Many of the neo-conservatives who staunchly supported the war are Jewish, making it easier for detractors to claim they were motivated by their support for Israel. But that’s untrue—although it is currently listed on the Team Shmuel Threat Board as a canard and not a blood libel. Still, it’s early yet.

In their public statements, both Hollings and Zinni named prominent neo-conservatives who are Jewish. Among those most often noted are Paul Wolfowitz, the deputy secretary of defense; Richard Perle, the former chairman of the Pentagon’s Defense Policy Board; and Douglas Feith, undersecretary of defense for policy.

The Jewish Institute for National Security Affairs, a hawkish Jewish organization with close ties to U.S. military officials and a supporter of the war, is taking the initiative in explaining neo-conservatism - and separating it from any Jewish identification—by renaming themselves Just Insist only Nazis Stockpile Anthrax.

Tom Neumann, JINSA’s executive director, points out that many of the neo-conservatives who pushed the Iraq war, including Vice President Dick Cheney and Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, are not Jewish “and the laws of statistics state there are probably another three or four besides them”.

“Neo-conservatism is a philosophy, not a theology. It doesn’t have to do with any religion,” Neumann patiently explained between bites of a Wendy’s bacon cheeseburger.

JINSA will hold a symposium this fall on the definition of a neo-conservative. Neumann describes it as someone who strongly favors racial mongrelization, open borders, open-ended foreign entanglements and draconian gun control laws for you, but has developed an antipathy for those policies applying to Israel or her supporters abroad.

That could explain why many of the leading neo-conservatives are Jewish, Neumann says.

“Jews generally start off liquor-store owners and pornographers, and through a process of nepotism and subterfuge move to gated communities,” Neumann said. “But we still enjoy the sight of your daughter giving a nigger a lap dance. Hey, you can’t be a neo-conservative if you’re in any way an actual conservative.”

Dezogification

You could write many articles making fun of them or attacking them. But what’s the point?

Don’t discount the power—theraputic and otherwise—of satire and sarcasm. You may not be able to recruit your buddy to your political views if you exclusively present them in a loud angry voice, punctuated with fist-slams on the table. The fear-conditioning is usually too thorough for that sort of breakthrough (and I mean the fear of you yelling weird theories and pounding your fist) but you can break down the ZOGthink implanted in him by getting him to laugh at the ludicrous holy icons his conditioning has taught him to worship. Emailing op-eds by minority columnists to one’s social circle with an added sentence or two of barbed racial commentary kinda forces them to guffaw involuntarily at the Holy Negro as well as starting their day with a smile.

I know I’m not the only one here who subscribes to a policy of constantly and derisively talking back to the TV. I’ve been doing it for so long that there are people who refuse ever to watch TV with me again (although I would never do this if something good was on). Why suffer silently through a Law and Order or a West Wing or an O’Reilly Factor or a Keanu Reeves movie when you can turn it into an interactive insult-comedy? I myself like watching the local news with friends. Guaranteed there will be some lurid crime story from the ghetto featuring interview footage with members of Da Black Community...a perfect opportunity to vocally respond to the jiggerish momentarily coming out of the TV set in a like manner. The next time you’re watching a black community activist addressing the media, just chirp out in a ludicrous Kingfish or Rochester voice, “My clients ain’t nohow been Mirandafied—plus they ain’t got told they rights!” The reaction will always be the same: spasmodic laughter, followed by “That is so racist/wrong/mean/sick”. Ignore the comment; the comment is only the Ludovico Treatment talking. The laughter was spontaneous and real. The laughter is the hairline crack in the facade—the first cut forming over your opponent’s eye—that tells you they know the conventional wisdom is fairy-tale bullshit, but they don’t feel safe in openly acknowledging it. Yet.

Do this kind of thing often enough and your relationship to your TV changes—it becomes more like hitting the heavy bag.

Dissent, The Descent of

Thoughtful and erudite public alarmists of yore—the Coughlins, Bilbos, Menckens, Enoch Powells and Oswald Mosleys now universally condemned as hidebound and backwards—have given way to slovenly, unkempt circus clowns like Michael Moore in the same manner that a T-bone steak is dismissed as “bad for you” by the morons on line at Wendy’s.

So we get articles like this, in which human Yorkshire-pudding Michael Moore prostrates himself before The Holy Negro for being bigger and badder and wiser and stronger than we benighted whiteys...while the black author of the op-ed attacks him for failing to point out that they are also a precious, vulnerable life form more susceptible to death-by-bullets than the rest of us and thus requiring draconian gun laws to stave off the imminent extinction of.

Has there ever been a race of people so comically and utterly dependant on the Nanny State from cradle to grave? Ever? (Hint: this is the point where some Afrocentric type tries to slam-dunk the argument by posting that laughable cartoon version of “history” popular among blacks—and “whites” like Moore—where black slaves invented the comb, the refrigerator, the microprocessor and the “one-hour foto” concept. I guess in a world that recognizes Michael Moore as “thoughtful and erudite”, a guy in a lab coat named Hambone discovering radium in a chicken coop makes perfect sense.)

Diversity, Fruits of

Instead of know-nothing blacks we now have imperious know-nothing blacks who possess both “degrees” in feel-good majors like Black History and Comparative Rhyme and Chicken Restaurant Management, and an unshakable belief in black space aliens, orbiting Motherships and Big Headed Scientists...but what’s even worse are the sort of “white people” we’re getting. But what can you expect from kids who’ve—from birth!—watched every authority figure around them supplicating themselves before the shrine of White Guilt? Look, ye mighty, and despair, at how one purposeless generation can scatter the toil and tears of the ten who preceded them to the four winds forevermore.

Driveway, You Drive on a Parkway But Park in a

I keep trying, and failing, to understand why “people of color” is properly respectful and courteous, but “colored people” is a deadly insult denoting deep-seated racism. Somebody help me out here.

Sayyyy...you don’t suppose it could just be a semantic firecracker to light and toss at Whitey just for the fun of watching him jump...do ya?

Existence, Riddles of

Why does the air taste sweetest when church lets out?

Facts, True Rock’n’roll

You will never see a better show that one at an undersold small club where every seat is stageside by default, and the ambience is one of completely relaxed intimacy and immediacy. Luckily, there’s no such thing as a musician who’s gonna play badly on purpose because only 100 or so people showed up...as long as they’re 100 fanatical supporters. What you usually end up with is the equivalent of a band playing their asses off for extended family; standard set lists get thrown out the window, and all sorts of impromptu you-hadda-be-there magic occurs. I wouldn’t trade a club show I’ve seen for front-row center at a faceless hockey barn holding 20,000 people.

But let’s be realistic: if the best show you ever saw only drew 100 attendants, you’ll probably never see that band playing live again.

Forces, Our Fighting

When Mexican journalists visit U.S. military camps and vessels, they seek out Spanish-speaking service members to interview.

When ANY journalist visits the troops they seek out the brown and the black and yellow (and whenever possible, female) faces near-exclusively. To watch Gulf War coverage is to fall down Lewis Carroll’s rabbit-hole to Diversity Wonderland...if you define “diversity” as 5 nonwhites “celebrated” for every paleface grudgingly acknowledged.

Is it me...am I nuts...or do you guys see what I’m seeing? Black brass, women CO’s, mestiza infantry, Hindu radiomen, and Samoan paratroopers. By this point, if you do see a CNN interview with a GI named “Smitty”, guaranteed she’s gonna be a chink!

Cool, huh? I knew America was an idea built on a promise based on a dream inspired by a notion—but this is ridiculous! Oh,well...at least we already know what sorts of jerry-rigged postwar “news stories” await us: the “racism” of a country that will ask its subhumans to fight its wars, but won’t hand them the keys to the liquor cabinet and the cash register when it’s over.

Post-American history. It writes itself!

Fate, The Fickle Severed Finger of

Ascuse me...ascuse me!...yeaah, they a finguh an whatnot in dis chili, cabron. Mira, dis how you treech ya custamahs? Imma get a lawya an...ah, nuts; they arrested Senorita Fingerita before this case could drag out long enough for me to try out a Sherlock Holmes (“The Adventure of the Four-Fingered Spic”) or Mickey Spillane (“My Lawyer Is Quick”) parody version of this “story”. Pity...

Forearmed, Forewarned Is

I knew, when I saw “white history”, “whiteness”, “Boston Globe” and “Adam Mansbach” contained in the same story, to hurry and get a raincoat on cos I was likely to be spattered with hot diarrhea at any second. And, goosh!...within a few predictable paragraphs, Mansbach leaned over and let fly like he’d just finished wolfing down the El Presidente at the Dirty Hands Mexican Diner.

Foxman, Crazy Like a

New York, NY, April 9, 2003...Deeply troubled by U.S. Secretary of Education Rod Paige’s remarks on the role of faith and Christianity in the public schools, the Anti-Defamation League (ADL) today urged him “to clarify that the values public schools should be teaching are inclusive, democratic values which all Americans share, and not exclusive religious values which some Americans may not share.” Secretary Paige was recently quoted as having said, “I would prefer to have a child in a school that has a strong appreciation for the values of the Christian community, where a child is taught to have a strong faith.”

Heyyy...thanks again for taking care of Saddam for us, White Man! Say, listen, since you’ve got a few minutes R&R here before we send you right back...not to trouble you, we just thought we’d get this settled while you’re still ali- uhh, still here. Guys, as you know, this country is an idea founded on a promise based on a notion taken from a dream where all religions are treated totally equally—in other words, Jews first, the rest of you jump-ball for second, and Islam in last and out of the playoffs every year. Could you sign this petition demanding a daily apology from Rod Paige while dressed in a chicken suit in Macy’s front window? I’m collecting Forced Apology footage, and I need Paige to complete my set. Whoops, looks like they started boarding after all—good luck in Syria, soldier!

Franco!

...probably ties his shoelaces in little knotsies just to be consistent.

Gang, The Freedom

Victors torturing the vanquished is as old as time itself, but that’s not what makes the bile rise in my throat. It’s that the USA is now the IDF; same tactics, same victims. Except we’ve become the IDF for no discernible reason relating to national security or integrity of our borders. We’re the hired muscle from out West brought in by the Sharon Mob to do a dirty, shitty job on their behalf.

And I think the fact that prisoner “interrogations” would be attended by—or worse, presided over—by women would make any normal person vomit. There is a natural order to things—and a dyke in fatigues doing the Ilse Koch Funky Chicken as naked, sobbing men have their johnsons burned with lig cigarettes is in direct violation of that natural order, Geneva convention or no Geneva convention.

Generation, The Other Greatest

Isn’t it a pitiful, criminal shame that the true Greatest Generation...those Americans who bore the full crippling brunt of the Depression without losing hope or their core decency...the WW1 vets on soup-kitchen lines, the forgotten families made homeless nomads by the Dust Bowl, the Bonus Marchers shot in the back, the desperate men who hopped freights and dodged the billy-clubs of railroad-dicks to get to where the work was, whom FDR had to rig up Pearl Harbor to force back into fatigues—or take their sons next...THAT generation is treated, to this day, like the gum on your shoe. Killing Germans was deemed the full extent of their usefulness, but weathering their own country’s betrayals and tribulations has earned them little more than slammed doors for over half a century now. Don’t hold your breath waiting for Spielberg to compose them any Panavision sonnets, either. Don’t you feel a little sick knowing that? You should; we all should, a little.

Have-Nots, Haves and

I see Jews behind every misfortune, regardless of how tenuous the linkage: I’m an anti-Semite. Daniel Pipes sees cackling Saudi demons in cloud-formations and sidewalk-cracks: he’s the “director of the Middle East forum”.

Horowitz, Memo to David

The issue is not “divestment of Israel”. The issue is coerced investment IN Israel—with not only taxpayers’ money, but their futures.

House, Sending a Third Bush to the White

Now that would truly signal the pilot light finally blowing out on America. I mean, even Poland took the screen doors off their submarines!

Idyll, American

We asked you for the “Top Ten” reasons you’re a Fox News Fan. This one was submitted by “Sheppified” Spidey from li’l Zion herself, NYC.

10. Fox & Friends is great to wake up to in the morning, when it still hurts to think.

9. Love that Mancow! But besides Cavuto, the other anchors are great too!

8. I love that Fox anchors think for themselves—I too think for myself just like them everyday!

7. Fox reports the truth so I can decide! Why, just the other day, I “decided” that “2 + 2 = 4” may be good enough for the cowardly French, but it’s not gonna rule MY life!

6. Sean Hannity—Enough said! He’s a true American with great morals and a head like a Rocky Ford cantaloupe! He’s so much more manly and rugged than that gawk of a mortician partner of his, too!

5. O’Reilly, like Fred C. Dobbs or Roy Cohn, NEVER lets anyone get one over on him.

4. Shep Smith!—He’s passionate, funny, and his name makes “Jimmy Olsen” sound like “Buckminster Fuller”!

3. Fox doesn’t treat viewers like mindless drones. Next up: Tom Ridge demonstrates proper duct-taping with our own Jillian Barberie!

2. The anchors are not sell-outs! I can trust them to give me the truth. Extended service warranty? How can I lose?!?

1. Three words—“JOE MILLIONAIRE ads!” Thanks guys! Keep up the good work!

Think you can do better? Send us your Top Ten Lists to: speakout@foxnews.com.

Instigate, They Also Serve Who Sit and

For every Jew outfitted with pack and rifle, there are ten or fifteen khazar keyboard kommandoes drawing up lists of countries to bomb, bemoaning our low casualty rates in Afghanistan, questioning others’ patriotism, and making derogatory clucking sounds in Europe’s direction. How can you expect us to waste our precious Jews as cannon fodder on the front—when their great gift is yelling “fire!” and pushing from the back?

Is, You Are What You

“The term does more damage than good because it allows people to hide their real intent. People who want to denounce the influence of Jews get to use the word ‘neocon’ when they really mean ‘Jewish conservatives’ without being held accountable.” —Jonah Goldberg

To paraphrase Bette Davis taunting her wheelchair-bound sister in Whatever Happened To Baby Jane—“But ya AHH, Jonah! Ya AHH all Jews!”

Israel, Hollings Retires; Slams

Fritz had 40-odd years to say these things, and maybe even to do something about Jewish domination of America—which mostly got cemented into place during his watch. But a politician is a politician—as long as there was another election in the cards, he opted not to share these sorts of thoughts with us. I’m sure his own shame at silently letting it happen, to keep his position and perks, fueled a lot of what he did finally say. But c’mon: if Fritz really and truly had a “track record of voting against Israel” he would not have been allowed on anybody’s Presidential ticket. Bet your bottom dollar on that.

It, Let Jorge Do

I know American soldiers will die both pre- and post- Iraqi liberation. For this reason, I’d just as soon—once the capture-the-flag part is over—relieve white personnel with black and brown soldiers exclusively. Let Jamaal and Ramon enforce the provisional Iraqi government. For one thing, they’ve got a lot more experience with sudden, mindless street violence than the white boys do, given that they create so much of it here. Secondly, pardon me for wanting the savage hordes thinned out By Any Means Necessary (thanks, X, I owe ya). If you’re in Basra then you can’t be in Wichita.

And, last but by no means least...a Negro/mestizo occupying force is the very best way to acclimatize the Iraqis to American-style “freedom”. Might as well let em know what they’re in for—Hymie’s Gorgeous Mosaic™, complete with melting pot and death-of-civilization accessories—right from the get-go.

Jack, I’m All Right

I’m bitterly disappointed in Derbyshire—because, at one point, I liked him a lot. But he can’t have enough sleepless nights to suit me. Derbyshire ought to first try being a New York or London resident with no loyalty to Jews or their New World Order if he wants to sob plaintively about being reduced to meaningless potential nuclear cannon-fodder.

When the Axis of Nice was dishing it out exclusively, Derbyshire walked with a swagger in his step: and if indiscriminate death howled down from the skies somewhere else, piling up “collateral damage” in places where he didn’t have to worry about it touching him or his scumbag public school buddies—why, ol’ Derb was always the first with a sourly apt Kipling passage about the burdens of the conqueror, or a wryly touching anecdote reminding the rest of us how mean the bombed people had once been to violin-virtuoso Jews.

But as soon as Operation Infinite ZOG gets a straight right hand to the mouth, he wets his pants with fear. He finds it incomprehensible—not that the schoolyard bully might eventually get knocked down, but that the other kids he’d long ago terrorized into docility would be savoring every minute of the sudden fear blanching his face.

How can this be happening? whines this tastefully understated Bomber Harris Fan. He doesn’t care to face up to the fact that when it was somebody else’s world going boom-boom, he and his NR cronies were too busy congratulating themselves on helping bring on The End Of History with their pithy columns to feel very much alarm...let alone shame.

Jester, Court

Funny how Dennis Miller’s rapidly falling star reversed trajectory with his embracing of ZioNazism. Previously best known as the single most disastrous hire in 30 years of Monday Night Football, Miller decided to mend fences with Joe Sixpack by reinventing himself as a poseur for the masses. And it worked! He traded his arcane William-of-Orange references for lobbing pithy epithets like “scumbag”, and the bookings are piling up. Even at the Wall Street Journal, where Miller’s “fuck France” act goes over big with the refined intellects on staff there, and Front Page, who remind their feeble-minded Boys Only readership that your “patriotism” is now commensurate with the size of your wang...and Tijuana Dennis sports “the most muscular patriotism on the planet—and he’s not afraid to use it”. The choice is yours, America—spit or swallow?

Jump, Might As Well

If I said David Lee Roth was utterly contemptible a la Gene Simmons, I’d be lying. He’s always been a likable sort of asshole, and half on purpose. But as his “career” whirls down the rock’n’roll port-a-potty, the croaking, no-range, twice-removed voice of Van Halen is desperately reaching. I’ve seen old pix of Roth brandishing Tony Iommi-sized crucifixes round his neck—and now, alluvasudden, he’s a lifelong Zionist battler against “anti-Semitism”. Kind of sad to watch this one-time arena draw reduced to wearing a silver-lame yarmulke on his way to the dinner theater circuit, but that’s how it works: when a show-biz Jew who passed for white by design has to “suddenly remember” he’s Jewish after all just to goose ticket sales in Tel Aviv, he’s officially a has-been. (It doesn’t help that he’s flogging his old VH hits with a tribute-band behind him, either.) He’s still trying very hard to be “likable”...but now he’s got the “asshole” part down pat.

Jungle, The Brokeback

I click on this thread for some really uncalled-for queer jokes and double-entendres and instead I get a SPLC-underwritten slide show promoting understanding for “those in touch with their same-sex desires”. Feh! So in other words heteros are “OUT OF touch”? But of course. Stigmatize the norm, every opportunity you get: that’s how you build “tolerance”!

And the Harvey Milk School? Guy’s one enduring claim to fame was reaching for his glazed donut one morning and eating a bullet instead. Is that all it takes to be a martyr if you’re gay? “Well, he enjoyed anonymous butt-sex with total strangers, and drinking water out of a dog-dish with a studded leash-collar around his neck. And then of course he was shot by a disappointed office-seeker.” Well, damn! James Garfield was shot by a disappointed office-seeker, but I guess that intact rectum of his is keeping his name off dozens, maybe hundreds, of government buildings.

And how does that send a positive message to teen deviants? The guy they named your damn school after got shot in the face for being queer...how much hope you got? But of course they’d never name such a school Liberace Tech or The Other Darren Academy. Since they were homos who didn’t get killt by ‘phobes, just AIDS, they’re not martyrs—merely victims with swimming pools and press agents.

Kwanzaa, The Jewish

Like most people who weren’t born yesterday and have a yardstick longer than six inches for judging artistic endeavor by, I’ve long considered Adam Sandler the Antichrist of American comedians—the pupae to Pauly Shore’s larvae (and God protect us from the imago). The idea, for instance, that Adam Sandler earns more per picture than W.C. Fields, Laurel and Hardy, and Preston Sturges earned in their careers, combined, is always good for a thimbleful of secreted stomach acid.

His new film, Eight Crazy Nights...an animated “Hanukah family-film”, which just opened to universally scathing reviews...sends all kinds of messages out to all sorts of audiences.

Roger Ebert:
“Heaven help the unsuspecting families who wander into Adam Sandler’s Eight Crazy Nights expecting a jolly animated holiday funfest. The MPAA doesn’t mention it, but there’s also a lot of scatological humor in the film, in keeping with Sandler’s inexplicable fascination with defecation, flatulence and bodily fluids...Audiences for ‘Jackass’ may enjoy a scene where Davey, the hero, slams a sweet little old man into a Port-a-Potty and shoves it down a hill. When the geezer emerges at the bottom, he is still alive, but covered from head to toe with excrement. Then Davey sprays him with a garden hose, and he freezes solid. Ho, ho.”

Sandler characters are Jews au natural—no special glow emanates from them—you never once think “where would Western civilization be without the contributions of the Jewish people?” watching an Adam Sandler film. Rather, it’s the contrary—after 90 minutes of him you can’t help but answer that question, “Better off. Far better off.” Because while no formulaic Jewish saintliness surrounds Sandler characters, their innate Dirty Mockie—index finger up its nose, digging away—surfaces often, looking like Eternal Jew outtakes Goebbels deemed “too obvious”.

In short, this is probably a good movie to take your kids to, if only for the parent-child conversation on the ride home from the megaplex.

“Are all Jews like that, Dad?”

“Pretty much.”

Long silence as this sinks in, before Mom chirps in with: “So what did we all learn about Hanukah?”

“Ummm...well, not...anything, really.”

Dad, chuckling: “That’s right: there’s nothing to learn, Butch! Hanukah’s just a fake Christmas for fake people. Now who’s up for cheeseburgers?”

Laureate, Amiri Baraka—Poet

“Poet laureate of New Jersey” must be like “DMV clerk” or “postal employee” or “Board of Ed paper-shuffler”, just another gummint-created setaside job for a brotha to get his iambic pentameter on.

Where would these people be without the public sector? Obviously in the govt’s view, the proper response is “climbin through yo windows, Whitey.”

How do you keep a national convention of state poet laureates from rioting, raping and overturning cars?

Throw them a basketball!

Life, The Toy Department of

Nowadays, being a “sports journalist” is like having a free pass through life. You get to call yourself a “reporter” even though your “reporting” has less real-world significance than the copy the Gardening Editor cribs out of old textbooks twice a week. You get to earn as much or more than a real reporter who has to cover crime or politics or—I was going to say war, but lately that’s like working in the GI Joe aisle of the Toy Dept, at least in the American press. You get to go on TV to swap your meaningless opinions with other “sports journalists”—and you don’t hafta be Malthus to understand that TV face-time can move the decimal point on your paycheck one or two spaces to the right with geometric rather than arithmetic speed.

But you have to be an artful dodger first. You have to be able to look at a thing like the NBA brawl in Detroit, and—without mussing your hair or missing a beat—instantly spin it so that everybody’s equally guilty...especially the white men being punched by niggers. You have to retool the way you think so that you can cover the Kobe Bryant rape trial yet never refer to him as a “rapist”, or to Ray Lewis as a “double murderer”, or to Jayson Williams as a “depraved killer”. This way you can cheer them on later when they sack the qb or throw up a buzzer-beater!

But careful not to totally retool that brain of yours...Lord knows, John Rocker might say something about “queers with purple hair”, or Fuzzy Zoeller might make a crack about Tiger Woods and “fried chicken”, and you may be called upon to appear on ESPN and demand that white monster’s head on a pole.

Of course, that’s tricky, too. For instance, if Jew Marv Albert is embroiled in a scandal where he puts on women’s lingerie and fake vampire teeth and attacks women in hotel rooms...well, you’re not expected to be Torquemada, after all. You can have a little sympathy for a fellow who has a legitimate problem like that, and it’s perfectly ok for you to use your media podium to get him reinstated and maybe even with a raise. After all, Marv...well, I mean...he’s not John Rocker after all, for God’s sake...he’s one of us.

Like), Culture Indexes (The Kind Men

Came across a site cataloguing the first 30-odd years of Playboy magazine interviews, rightly cited as among the first of the in-depth, long-form interviews to be popularized in America. Anywho, I thought a sample listing of the Playboy interview subjects separated by three decades might illuminate the descent of the American mind, and it does. Note how relentlessly all roads lead to television.

121 JAN 1964 Vladmir Nabakov
122 FEB 1964 Panel on Jazz: Today and Tomorrow
123 MAR 1964 Ayn Rand
124 APR 1964 Jean Genet
125 MAY 1964 Jack Lemmon
126 JUN 1964 Ingmar Bergman
127 JUL 1964 Salvador Dali
128 AUG 1964 Dick Gregory
129 SEP 1964 Henry Miller
130 OCT 1964 Cassius Clay (Muhammed Ali)
131 NOV 1964 George Wallace
132 DEC 1964 Ian Fleming

467 JAN 1994 David Letterman
468 FEB 1994 Pete Townshend
469 MAR 1994 Anthony Hopkins
470 APR 1994 Howard Stern
471 MAY 1994 Ron Howard
472 JUN 1994 Garth Brooks
473 JUL 1994 Bill Gates
474 AUG 1994 Dion Sanders
475 SEP 1994 David Geffen
476 OCT 1994 Jerry Jones
477 NOV 1994 Christian Slater
478 DEC 1994 Gary Shandling

Was it really only 40 years ago that Nabokov and Bergman were “what’s hot” as opposed to “what’s not”? Thank heaven we have left those Dark Ages behind forever!

Limits, Gomorrah City

Due ironically to FCC restrictions—the Youth of America are only presented with fantasy versions of “sexual freedom”. They only see famous, pretty people militating for abortion rights...what they’re never allowed to gaze upon is footage of an actual abortion—until it’s their own. (Cos that would be “hate speech” serving no purpose, you see.) They’re shown happy, productive, male-model ‘mos hugging and kissing while fully dressed; but they don’t get to watch Wild Kingdom footage of ugly, middle-aged queers in pathetic public-restroom courting rituals servicing each other in grotty toilet stalls amid the romantic sounds and smells such idyllic trysting spots are redolent with.

No matter what you think of abortion or homosexuality—and I frankly prioritize them pretty low on the Threat Board overall—the actual black & white reality of these “choices” is never shown to these kids...it’s always presented as a choice between being (or doing) Jennifer Aniston, or being (or doing) Jesse Helms. We never see the women forever haunted by the psychic enormity of their infanticide, or the faces of 60-pound AIDS patients the day before they check out forever. Bad taste, doncha know.

It’s the same with the families of people killed in violent black-on-white crimes. We all know that most of us would be devastated to be a parent or loved one of one of those Wichita kids, and forever impervious to can’t-we-all-get-along propaganda, but—to the Jewish media—these people are off the radar forevermore; they have ceased to exist on television and the Leviathan press. But if you’re one of these Jesus-shouting boobs who’s forever forgiving the rapists and killers of your own children a la Kris Kime’s parents, you might just end up on a 37-cent stamp celebrating “tolerance”, in between MTV Stop-The-Hate appearances as a file-footage “expert” video-begging leniency for the savage jungle beast who fatally caved your boy’s head in with a steel-toed boot while he was lying prone on the ground.

The problem isn’t the pro-gay/pro-abortion (or race) messages being sent by the media. It’s that there is no way to honestly talk about these things without showing the folks at home what it is you’re talking about; and MTV will never ever let anyone freely “choose” by doing so. Nor would any broadcast network. It’s like relentlessly propagandizing for war while banning all displays of maimed vets being fitted with colostomy bags and prosthetic limbs. Oops! Almost forgot that’s now the law!

Magazine, Taki and Buchanan Launch New

“It’s nice to be read by someone who might draft a law or something. And that’s what we’re doing. We’re targeting those people. We’re sending it to every fucking policy wonk in Washington. I’ve had my run, I’ve had 35 years as a journalist, and now I want a little bit more gravitas.” —Taki

Good and bad. Good in that sales figures and ad-pages are not going to determine TAC’s fate...it’s published by people who know it’s going to lose money, so it ain’t going away after two or three discouraging circulation audits. Bad in that—Taki’s diplomatic phrasing aside—he’s all but admitting that decades of media and Jewthink have rendered the American public frighteningly bovine and unreachable outside standard channels.

He’s absolutely right—and his diagnosis not restricted to Old Right publications. The idea of regularly publishing a magazine nowadays (on any topic) of taste, restraint and intelligence—or even simply pretending the words are more important than the pictures—is unthinkable. The Standard might be neo swill, and NR a sickly shadow of its old self, but everything else on the stands is 64 flavors of Us and People, so corrupted by the nonexistent standards of fluff writing that they’ve trained the Typical American Reader to be impatient with any serious topic that isn’t “personalities” first, substance later (if ever).

You no longer even make the attempt to publish a mass-audience political magazine if you’re smart. (You make the public—or that portion of it already predisposed to your point of view—come to you.) While some may fret that this is an inefficient or disastrous method of converting the heathens, it makes a lot of sense. You bypass the cattle, who’ve been too long grazing on the wrong side of the TV set—who disbelieve and distrust anything that’s not unanimously endorsed by every talking head on the box—for the cattlemen and ranch foremen who sit inside the box, telling the livestock what to think at all times.

On the other hand, it means no naming the Jews, ever, for TAC. Oh, Sharon will be rebuked (but mildly), Israel will be razzed (solely as an imperialist state) and while there’ll be much noise about closing the borders, nary a discouraging word will be uttered against the border-crossers except to note that, uhhh, America is a house made of wood and myth and freedom and brass doorknobs, or however Pat’s analogy went. You will read “this is a bad thing”. You will not read “...and here is why”. And anybody holding their breath for TAC columns by Sobran or Francis would be well advised to resume breathing. Even Raimondo has sublimated his righteous Izzy-bashing by diverting his full invective to American neos lately.

A little good, a little bad. It beats all bad.

Massacre, The Alabama Commandments

Free advice for Roy Moore.

1. Take down the Commandments

2. Find out what a “menorah” is, and hang one on the front door of the courthouse. Today. Two menorahs might be overkill, though: for God’s sake, don’t beg.

Important Note: you’ve already angered the Jews, so it’s best to skip any Ramadan displays altogether. Sayyy...how about a nice statue of Buddha in the foyer instead?

Math, The New

Hitler=Absolute Evil / Mandela=Archangel of Man’s Hope is practically a set of fixed absolute values by now. Official units of moral measurement. What’s actually being weighed and measured is immaterial, so long as we arrive at either or both of those “answers”. And the results of this “new math”?

Like Madge the Hairdresser used to say, you’re soaking in it.

Mess, Why We’re In This

Longtime Nashville resident, author and historian John Egerton said “All of this just shows we haven’t fixed anything. One of the reasons we still have racism is we tend to keep a sullen silence or sweet-talk one another instead of having a candid conversation about why we’re in this mess.”

Okay, John, how’s this for candid? In 30 centuries African blacks had yet to thrash out a working version of the wheel. Reaching up for fruit and occasionally wilding a gazelle or antelope wit dey homies constituted black social and cultural life. Currently, they’ve “progressed” to the level of equating sex with infants to band-aids and mercurochrome. If they didn’t have white people and television there, one might still be able to arrive in Africa, produce a working Zippo lighter and be declared the village god. Perhaps the problems blacks face in America—total and utter dependance to the State, propensity for mindless violence, and inability of males to raise their offspring—can be traced to their African forebears, indicating Southerners might have fared better had they simply cut out the Jewish middleman and just taught actual gorillas to pick cotton.

Miniseries, CBS to Air Hitler

LOS ANGELES, May 5 (JTA)—There were nights, acknowledges Leslie Moonves, head handrubber of CBS Television, “when I lay in bed, looking up at the ceiling and asking myself, ‘Is this the right thing to do? Will it wise up the goyim? Are we creating more anti-Semitism than we need to stay in charge?’”

Moonves had good cause for sleepless introspection. Clever tribesmen, back home in Conniver Central and even here, in the colonies, have recognized Holocaustianity may have passed its saturation point with the boobs and have been urging their fellow swindlers “ixnay on the eth-camps-day” for a while now. Since announcing last July that CBS would air a four-hour, prime time miniseries on the early life of Adolf Hitler, Jewish critics of media spokesmen had had a field day.

They feared that the early Hitler would be “humanized” into something resembling an actual person as opposed to the more familiar cartoon werewolf. Some even feared the film depicting the eight-year old Hitler as a small child, sans a humped back or any visible facial disfigurement, might trigger spontaneous pogroms, and lobbied for Verne Troyer to get the part.

Moonves, who lost the standard-issue 82 close relations during the Holocaust, even took flak from some of those inhumanly-gassed relatives, now living in retirement in Boca Raton, Florida.

Now, with articles just like this one in hundreds of newspapers reminding you to watch “Hitler: The Rise of Evil” broadcasting May 18 and May 20 during the ratings sweeps period, the CBS chief is breathing easier.

After previewing tapes of the film, a half-dozen Holocaust scholars and prominent rabbis generally have given it their approval. A plan to preview the film for German citizens was scrapped when Moonves learned it is currently against the law in Germany not to applaud at the end of a Holocaust film. “That doesn’t mean they’re not all guilty of mass murder, though”, he is quick to point out to this reporter as we climb into his Mercedes to continue the interview, adding, “and they will all be just as guilty a hundred years from now.”

Some of the turnaround can be credited to an entirely new script and complete revision of the original project every time a rabbi coughed, starting with the metamorphosis of the title from The Story Of Adolf Hitler to Taste The Blood of Hitler, Hitlerstein Meets The Wolf Man, The Berchtesgarten Chainsaw Massacre and finally to the present title.

The earlier critical volleys, and genial advice from Jewish leaders offered via thumb-screws and ominous references to the Mossad, apparently gave a substantial push to the revisions.

In its final form, the film briefly touches on young Hitler’s brutal and domineering father, his troubled adolescence, his rootless existence in Vienna as a failed artist and his enthusiastic soldiering in World War I. This is accomplished by a scene in which an old friend spots him on the street in 1928 Berlin and exclaims, “Adolf Hitler! I haven’t seen you in years! Not since we bravely fought the hated French together in the trenches of no-mans-land, thereupon to drift aimlessly until we agreed to share a loft in Vienna, penniless aspiring painters not above stealing fruit and day-old bread from local merchants to survive on while you, spurred by buried memories of your brutal upbringing by a cruel and remote father, tried vainly to exorcise your inner demons through art, turning out worthless canvas after worthless canvas in the process, blind to the depth of your own pent-up rage and what I’m betting will turn out to be your own repressed homosexuality. How in the world are you, Adolf?”; to which Hitler responds, “Eh. I can’t complain.”

But the vast bulk of the film deals with Hitler’s career from a Munich beer-hall orator in 1920, through his political machinations within the Nazi party and against the Weimar Republic, ending shortly after the war in a spectacular coda set in the woods of Poland, where a teenaged Elie Wiesel (Topher Grace) is suddenly surrounded by CGI blood geysers spontaneously shooting 20 feet into the air and an ancient oak tree comes momentarily to life to shed a single bark tear and tell him, “Never again” in the same voice Goliath would hammer away at Davey with at the end of the cartoon.

An epilogue summarizes, in stark statistics and pictures printed on ADL stationary, the utter devastation Hitler wrought on Europe and the Jewish people.

“I think any fears in the Jewish community that the film would glorify Hitler have been allayed,” noted Holocaust scholar Michael Berenbaum said. “It successfully narrates Hitler’s rise to power and shows clearly how he would rise from the grave nightly to feed upon the living, and could change into a bat or even sometimes a wolf to evade his pursuers.”

“Historians may have some trouble with fraudulent assertions, as they always do, and with some doctored figures, but in general the film deals well with the two facts of Hitler’s life that people need to be reminded of for the ten thousandth time: one, he was Utterly Evil; and two, he had hooves instead of normal feet,” said Berenbaum, director of the Sigi Ziering Institute for the Study of Ethics and the Holocaust at the University of Judaism in Los Angeles and Ya Doesn’t Have to Call Me Johnson.

Abraham Foxman, national director of the Anti-Defamation League, also applauded the film.

“It delivers a very powerful message, especially to young people, about how many times Hitler could have been stopped in the early years if only there had been sufficient Jewish media ownership in the West. Say, are there any of those little mini-egg rolls left?,” he said through a chewed mouthful of free food from the Craft Services table.

Rabbi Marvin Hier, swindler emeritus of the Simon Wiesenthal Center, praised the film and acknowledged that his earlier fears about the project had been unjustified. However, he said he would have liked to have seen a more substantial Jewish character in the series, perhaps with a black best friend, and strongly urged a sequel that would take the Hitler story to its end in 1975, when the small Paraguayan medical hut where Josef Mengele had kept Hitler’s brain alive in a fishtank caught fire and burned to the ground.

“There are now youngsters who know nothing about World War II and the Holocaust, who didn’t see ‘Schindler’s List,’ and who need to know,” Hier said. “It may be as many as twelve, or even fifteen, children!”

All the experts cited gave much of the credit for the film’s effectiveness to Scottish actor Robert Carlyle, whose portrayal of Hitler is “frighteningly brilliant, especially after the Freddie Krueger voice effects were added,” Foxman said.

One dissenting view came from philosophy professor John Roth, director of the newly formed Center for the Study of the Holocaust, Genocide and Human Rights and Stuff at Claremont McKenna College in California.

While acknowledging the complexity of the subject and the overall usefulness of the film, Roth felt that Hitler comes across as “too histrionic and crazed and insufficiently nuanced and ambiguous”—perhaps so that viewers won’t develop any sympathy for him. No, really, some people believe that might conceivably be a possibility. The French, most likely.

The danger in such a portrayal is that “it plays into the stereotype of Hitler as a dead German guy and that viewers will say, “Duhhh...he don’t look no how like Saddam.” It might be better to live with some ambiguity so we can keep invoking his name every time we need a doctors’ note to bomb somebody, or even just to squeeze out another ‘loan’.”

One of the aspects of Hitler that the film does not explain—that, indeed, may be beyond explanation—is what triggered his murderous hatred of Jews.

Theories abound—Jewish usury, Jewish warmongering, Jewish hatred of German national identity, Jewish money financing Jewish communism, Jewish chicanery flourishing as honest men starved—but a definitive answer may never be found.

During the broadcast, there will be a number of public service announcements on tolerance with guidance from the Anti-Defamation League. Incidentally, why don’t you pass the time by playing a little Solitaire? Hold the line for your American operator, please.

Moonves said that solicitation of advertisers was proceeding normally: buy a spot or you go on the “Gibson list”, i.e., industry code for “do not accept or return calls from this person ever again”.

Plans also call for the film to be sold across the world, “certainly in Europe and Israel,” said Sussman. “We’re just now wrapping up post-production on the Iraqi version, in which we added an epilogue where Saddam is struck by lightning while reading Mein Kampf 40 years later and becomes possessed by Hitler’s ghost.” It also will be available on video and DVD. A compulsory study guide for high school teachers and students has been developed as a companion piece to the film.

As for all the controversy, Moonves remains unfazed. “I engineered the controversy, remember? All of that should help the ratings,” he said. “I think the public will be curious.” To underscore the point, he pulled from his desk a little dinner-bell, rang it, barked like a poodle a few times, and laughed uproariously.

Missile, Hebe-Seeking

In Search of (No) Conspiracy (Whatsoever)
...by Fred Reed

From time to time I write about the cloacal morality of the media as they go about wrecking civilization and annoying hell out of me. But generally I do my mochaccino-maverick, Jeff-Foxworthy-as-Rhodes-scholar shtick. Don’t ask me why, but this fake-cowboy act is money in the bank: ask Don Imus if you don’t believe me.

For rhetorical convenience I use “New York” and “Hollywood” as a sort of abbreviation for the news racket and the screen trades. What can I say? I just picked two cities entirely at random, and they sorta clicked for whatever reason. Well, anyway, this column gets a lot of email, and some of it assumes that “New York” and “Hollywood” are code words for “Jews” simply because they reside there in great numbers and control every aspect of public life in both places while carefully creating/filtering/vetting every published word and broadcast image set before the great mooing herd. In other words, classic anti-Semitism. Let me give you a typical example of such email, the subject line being “Fred I Kill You Jew Loving Scum.”

Dear Fred,

In the name of Allah, the merciful.

You column of Great Satan Television so good me pause ritually mutilating daughter’s clitoris to have read aloud to me. But why not you call for jihad on Jew?

You scared like little girl to say Jew. All evil thing come from Jew; not just UPN, but many bad thing in newspaper also. So you know but not say. Run away Mexico instead fight for homeland. You fight rice nigger Vietnam. You fight sand nigger Iraq. You fight just plain nigger Washington DC. But you no fight Jew. This why me taking pilot lesson.

In Palestine we have saying for one like you: “All tree and no olives.” No seventy virgin with nice ass in Paradise for YOU, infidel! One day soon I blow you house up bomb.

Cordially,

Farouk

Another:

Fred,

I didn’t just get admitted to MIT—I got a PhD from there. This was right before the Plutonians contacted me through a process they call NeuroVox—well, that’s neither here nor there. Forget—just forget I said that last part. Anyhow I’d like to tell you just how spineless I think your last column was in omitting the very obvious fact that JEWS have played and continue to play the largest role in fluoridation’s slow destructive agenda.

Jews have both a genetic and cultural desire to subvert and destroy the purity of their host civilizations’ precious bodily fluids—something I first became aware of during the physical act of love, by the way. The prevalence of Jews in television, advertising and reservoir management provides a powerful channel for those destructive urges to have their effect.

Have you ever seen a Shecky drink a glass of water? Under no account will your hard-core Jew... ever... gulp down a glass of plain tap water? Bottled, Fred. Carbonated. Mineral water—that’s what they drink.

Nineteen hundred and forty-eight. Nineteen forty-eight, Fred. How does that coincide with your post-war Hebrew conspiracy, huh? It’s incredibly obvious, isn’t it? A foreign substance is introduced into our precious bodily fluids without the knowledge of the individual. Certainly without any choice. That’s the way your hard-core Shecky works.

Fred, do you realize that in addition to fluoridating water, why, there are studies underway to fluoridate salt, flour, fruit juices, soup, sugar, milk...ice cream. Ice cream, Fred—children’s ice cream!

You’re no tough guy, Fred—why are you so scared of Jews? I will take you seriously only when you have the guts to demand that Jews be made to answer for the Great Fluoridation Conspiracy and their clandestine alliance with the Venusian War Council. Oh, shit—I’ve said too much.

We never spoke,

Vincent, USAF (Ret.)

You see? Anti-Semites are invariably mentally disturbed and/or swarthy foreigners. And while I admire the fearlessness of ‘Rouk and Vince in having me take on the Jews, “Let’s you and him fight” sounds better when it’s Ariel Sharon saying it to George W Bush.

Being weary of this stuff, I am going to felch the last dingleberry off the collective Jewish bunghole so thoroughly Joe Farah will seem like Julie Streicher by comparison—and then I’m going back to better things, such as mass-mailing form-letter apologies to every city-room and nat’l affairs desk editor in Christendom just in casea awkwardly-turned phrase or two gets, y’know, taken out of context John Rocker-style. Just cuz I earn my livelihood playacting at being the country cracker who speaks sly Truth to omniscient Power—Sut Lovingood in a Members-Only jacket—don’t mean I don’t look both ways before crossing the streets of Hymietown, after all. Heck, sometimes I stand there for days, waiting to cross, and never get off the curb at all.

Now, the conventions of discourse being what they are, it is hard to talk about Jews at all. If you say, “Some of my best friends are Jews,” it means you hate Jews. If you say, “I can’t stand the freaking Jews,” it means you hate Jews. If you don’t say anything, it means you secretly hate Jews. And if you say, “Jews invented Communism, feminism and interracial dating to help kill your nation and make you perpetual serfs in your own homeland”, well, you allovasudden start getting server crashes and hosting snafus and “404 error—file not found”s and, shoot, before you know it you ain’t even an Internet columnist no more.

Now if you say anything good about the Jews, it means that you are a tool of the Jews, or afraid of the Jews, or have had your mind clouded by Jews. But at least the checks clear.

The premises of letters such as the foregoing are invariant: (1) that Jews want to control and exploit the gentiles of the Earth via the most duplicitous, underhanded mind-control avenues available, and (2) that I like being liked enough to pretend I don’t know this. It then follows that, since I don’t say it, I must be either cowardly or collusive. The matter is always phrased as a manhood issue: either you stand up to the Jews, or you lack balls. (The fact that Jews have convinced the other 300 million of us that you either you stand up to the Arabs and the French or you lack balls is wholly immaterial. Who are you gonna believe anyway—Dennis Miller, or some nobody on the freakin’ Internet?) The Jews of course are a monolithic and conspiratorially buzzing hivemind who click their mandibles to say “Heh-heh-heh” like Hell-flies lucking into a pile of fresh sinner-shit. (Now see, that last sentence is the kind that’ll get a body in trouble; hence, printing out form-letter apologies in advance.)

Permit me a different interpretation.

Jews may be exotic in Peoria. (What a dumbfuck little nowhere burg: Peoria. Not at all like bustling, hectic Hazzard County, where I hail from, or exotic, flyblown Chocha Grande, the donkey-show capitol of the world where I currently reside. Who the hell would want to live in Peoria, after all?) In Washington, where I worked for years, they are as rare as civil-service niggers. I have known lots of Jews. I have dated them, gotten drunk with them, split eightballs with them, banged ten-year-old Thai hookers with them, insider traded with them, informed on white supremacists to them. I liked most of them. (Like I said, them checks clear ever damn time.)

My favorite lunch buddy for a long time was a retired Harvard professor, Jewish, as decent a human being as I have ever met. You might think it odd that a hog-riding, Confeddit-flag-flyin’ Waylon Jennings outlaw like me would make reservations ANYwhere for lunch, let alone with a yarmulked Harvard prof, but that man scored the hands-down best blow I have ever done. My favorite dance partner was a Jewish radical feminist (I know, I know, but I was tapping that ass). My dentist was Jewish. The biochemist I used to windsurf with on the Potomac was Jewish. Beth, the pediatrician I dated at NIH, was Jewish, and an absolute sweetheart. I learned the Texas two-step from a Jewish carpenter (no, another carpenter) who moonlighted as a dance instructor. Hey, you might also wonder why a shine-runnin’ prefab-rebel Duke Boy like me didn’t know fuck-all about the Texas two-step to begin with and had to learn the steps from a Shmuel, but I was too busy windsurfing with Ira after doing a few bullets with the Dersh to pay too much attention to that “Southern” shit.

Familiarity—not fear, I swear to God it’s not fear—is why I don’t devote my life to obsessing about the maleficence of Jews. Simple familiarity is all; simple familiarity. Yes indeed, I’m VERY familiar with what happens to people who DO devote their lives to obsessing over the maleficence of Jews. Not for me, thanks. And what I am telling you—sorry, “y’all”—is that, because I casually know five Jews who were fairly cool as individuals, that everything 5,000 years of recorded human history has taught mankind about The Tribe is just a bunch of hate-filled cowflop peddled by Nazi goobers and Wahhabi raisinets.

Are there Jews who do things politically I don’t like? Yes. Are there Jews who do things politically I like? Next question, please.

Is there an Israeli lobby? Yes. Yet I have never encountered the evil Jews of The Conspiracy. That’s because I don’t like to think too much about these things. I know I’m just an ex-journalist scribbling on the Internet from sunny Mexico these days, but shoot, even ex-journalists disappear down here. “Fuck the Alamo...remember Ambrose Bierce” is all I’m saying here.

I note that Israeli treatment of the Palestinians is indistinguishable from American treatment of the Iraqis and I fake temporary hearing loss whenever someone asks why Americans are in Iraq at all. Virtue does not exactly flood the world’s streets, anywhere. (“We are all sinners” boilerplate like that guarantees at least half my readership will nod sagely and forget which point it is that I’m specifically ducking.)

In particular, I do not rave against the Jews, because Jews as I have known them are not monolithic. Politically they have been all over the place, running the whole gamut from “Marxist” to “Trotskyite”.

I don’t see the Jews of the email. That Jews are tremendously influential in the media is a fact, easily verified on the Web. However, the leap from “Jews are powerful in the media” to “Jews are responsible for all social ills, the collapse of civilization, and everything I don’t like” is a bit of a stretch. Those I know have no idea why Farouk and Vince loathe them, incidentally. Being hit on the head by a piano imparts little understanding of pianos. Further, never do I encounter from the Farouks and Vinces the idea that any Jew, ever, might have done anything good, however inadvertently. But then, like I said before, anti-Semites are all crazy. Or dangerously foreign.

My experience is distinctly otherwise. Let me tell you a story. In the early Fifties, polio was a nightmare for parents. Lots of children clunked around in braces or sat forever in wheel chairs. In summer, the epidemic season, our mothers wouldn’t let us go to public swimming pools because they were thought to be focuses of infection.

One day a fellow named Salk came out of a laboratory somewhere and said, “Hey, I’ve got this vaccine...” A bit later, some guys named King and Hoffman were heard shouting “NO HE DOESN’T” from a supply closet, but I guess you know who history remembers, eh?

Sabin came out of another laboratory, and said, “Hey, according to these notes I just—uhh, found—no, wrote! Yeah, that’s it, I just wrote em!—anyway if we do thus and so and put it on sugar cubes, see, it will be oral...” You can’t imagine how welcome that vaccine was. Parents grabbed their children by the hair and sprinted through doors, sometimes not bothering to open them, to get to the clinic. And, heck, a lot of em ended up special-ordering bite-size caskets a couple of years later, but so what? The main thing is JEWS ENDED POLIO FOR THE REST OF US. Even if they didn’t.

Hint: Salk and Sabin were not Rastafarians. See, cause ol’ Fred knows it’s always safe to dump on niggers—nobody likes em and a good zinger at Remus’ expense helps the reader forget he was asking you about Hymie a minute ago.

So many of the Jewish crimes popular on the email circuit don’t stand up to examination. For instance, I hear repeatedly that during Vietnam America won in the field but that Jews stabbed Our Boys in the back by means of the anti-war movement, thus seeking to promote godless atheistic communism.

Not quite. The leadership of the anti-war movement was heavily Jewish. The movement itself was overwhelmingly Christian. And everybody knows the herd dictates to the leadership. That’s how movements work, see? The rabble decides for the elite.

People didn’t need help to weary of an endless, bloody, pointless war, in which their sons were dying, in a place they didn’t care about and could barely find on a map. The anti-war movement wasn’t a Jewish plot. It was a national revolt that BEGAN as a Jewish plot. Anyway, it provided enough covering fire to get the Civil Rights Voting Act in and the Immigration Act gutted clean without the Bellbottom Pants Christians, who were busy humming “A Horse With No Name” at the time, from catching on to what lay ahead.

Most of the things Jews are supposed to be doing, on examination, they aren’t. They use their stranglehold on the information-flow to get you to do it for them. But, hey, technically they’re innocent, right? I mean, yeah, sure, “innocent” the way OJ is, but still, we’re a nation of laws and those laws say HANDS OFF THE JEWS: it’s practically the subtitle of the penal code! (Shucks, I get carried away and forget sometimes that I’m supposed to sound like a hick here. I’ll remember to add lots of "shoot"s and "dang"s on the second draft, though.)

Is globalization a Jewish plot (as I’m told), or the inevitable and glorious One World of tomorrow, without war or famine or racism, and presided over by the wise and kind race that gave us Pauly Shore and William Shatner?

Is destructive feminism a Jewish plot (as I’m told), or the result of the natural desire of young white women to break the glass ceiling holding them back from higher pay, equal rights, nigger boyfriends and untreatable chlamydia?

Is the decline of education a Jewish plot (as I’m told), or the fault of lazy whites not sufficiently inspiring the spark of latent genius within sullen Raheem and deeply stupid Ricardo?

If you believe the problem isn’t the Jews, it’s non-denominational “New York” and “Hollywood”, then kick off your snakeskin boots, podner; draw up to the far and set a spell. Y’all are reading the right column. See, that’s why I don’t gnaw at myself over this. The last thing this ol’ boy needs is to piss off ol’ Shlomo, and besides, he’s completely innocent of all charges. Whatever they are.

Mockingberg, To (Over)Kill a

I’ve always thought the Protocols were bunk. Not only bunk but obvious, transparent bunk. Look at the wording throughout this document: it reads like Happy Hour at a supervillain’s convention. Sentences like “we have bemused and corrupted the youth of the goyim by rearing them in principles and theories we know to be false...” is only missing the coda “...on account of we suck and we’re, like, totally evil. Soon the cats will be marrying dogs—and the churches will buuuurn!” But evil men amongst their fellows don’t think of themselves as evil; but as combatants against a common enemy and a greater evil, and would never ever phrase such sentiments in this kind of language. If the Protocols were bonafide, the wording would stress and re-stress the vile and horrific nature of the goyim. These passages portray hand-rubbing khazars high-fiving each other in satanic glee; the pov here is that of a horrified gentile aping, with heavy heavy hand, an authentic Jewish document in order to alarm his kinsmen into expelling Jews.

Moreover, it’s BECAUSE this reads expressly as though it were designed for a gentile audience that I can’t help but dismiss it. Jewish texts designed for Jewish eyes have a tendency to never see the gentile light of day except in bowdlerized/sanitized/poorly-“translated” form. It’s near impossible to find an accurate English translation of the Talmud—but the super-secret Protocols have been kicking around at popular prices almost from the date they were “written”...highly uncharacteristic for a ingroup as reflexively clannish and insular as the Hebrews.

Lastly, Jews don’t “amend” their Constitution...they amend yours. Much of what’s in the Protocols is likely the real deal, but as the vast majority of Shlomo’s marching orders date back millenia and are committed to the minds and memories of Jews at a young age (if not encoded in their DNA), I don’t see what the point was of holding a pop quiz in 1897, and then letting the answer key fall into public domain for the next 100 years. Besides, there’s enough Jewish evil extant in your average SPLC/ADL fundraising dinner, and 99% of it is couched in progressive, feel-good tikkunisms—which are scarier by far than the Beelzebubbian braggadoccio of the Protocols.

Mothers, Single

“Single mothers” is a term which has gone from denoting stigma, to a crying towel for sympathy, to the single most idealized form of parenting.

The average “single mom” on TV these days is white, intelligent, with a model-perfect face and body, underpaid/overworked (yet who invariably lives in a roomy, tastefully-furnished apt or house, wears fashionable clothing, drives a late-model car, etc.), the near-perfect embodiment of the New American Dream of eternal adolescence: she’s a mother of small children who goes out on dates all the time. No need to get her groove back; it’s always been there in her fanny pack. If she does not already hold a degree (televitz being allergic to working-class reality, we are surfeited with single-mom judges, executives, attorneys, heart specialists, etc.) , trust me, TV fans, she’s taking night courses towards one.

All this would be well and good except I’m always left scratching my head wondering where the real true-to-life single moms are. I don’t mean the “I-got-the-kids-and-the-house-after-the-divorce” types—but where exactly are LaKweesha and Borealis and every other slack-jawed ghetto strumpet whose three or four screaming dirty fatherless brats never interfere with her lifestyle of turning tricks at the corner stoplight, sucking down crack rocks and alternately daydreaming of being swept off her feet by a pop singer/NBA superstar, and/or one day climbing G.E.D. Mountain? They ain’t anywhere on my TV.

Muhammad, Malvo and

Anybody else find it funny (in a laughing-while-Rome-burns kind of way) that, since the M&M twins got caught—except for a few scattered trial-jurisdiction stories—all Sniper stories have dropped off the map entirely? Let’s suppose the sniper had actually turned out to be a disaffected white NA member after all: how many stories a day on “hate” would we be buckling under right now? How many “NBC White Papers”? How many “CNN Town Hall Meetings”? How many special extended editions of “Nightline”? How many mouth-breathing average-Joe nimrods who have nothing to do with this story would be filmed chipping in their two cents on the Evils Of Race Hate?...and how many would we be seeing tomorrow? Next week? Next month? How many nat’l-affairs-desk editors and TV-news producers, seeing space-filling, no-content, write-themselves exercises in finger-pointing sugarplums dancing in their heads, actually yelled “SHIT!” the moment the Malvo/Muhammad capture was reported? (“My God, the story of the year, and now we have to kill it! If these guys were white, we coulda run with this for three months! DAMMIT!”) I’m betting TIME shot the works and commissioned a Charles Moose Man of the Year portrait in August they got stuck having to pay for. Maybe they can offer it as the free gift on the subscription ads they run on BET and get some use out of it yet.

The first rule of being an informed citizen these days is turn off your TV and wrap fish with the newspaper before reading it. But, like the song says: ain’t that America?

Nothing, Money for

Dinesh D’Souza received a mere $150,000 advance on his latest book, Letters to a Young Conservative. Letters to a Young Conservative is a collection of 31 letters to an imaginary conservative student named Chris.

Anybody still unsure why mainstream “conservatism” is now a cesspool of mediocre writers and second-rate thinkers?

150 large! Oops...pardon me...make that “only” 150 large—for a book any competent essay-padder could’ve cranked out over a 3-day weekend, and full of the recycled NR/Front Page-style nostrums that even I know by heart now. Immigration good...racism bad...Lincoln a hero...Chomsky a zero...NAFTA virtuous...Hillary evil...Bush tuff and ruthless...Hussein ruff and toothless...yawwwn. Ol Dinesh never had to crack open so much as a thesaurus, let alone any reference works for this opus; the textbook example of a “book that writes itself”.

Nuff, Shoah

Schindler is the perfect history lesson for dummies, a mural drawn in black Magic Marker on crepe paper. The Jews are all kindly, simple, chai-clutching blameless victims; shopkeepers and violinists to a man. The Nazis are portrayed as demons who high-five each other after shooting children and crippled old men. (I was honestly waiting for them to all sprout fur and fangs during full-moon scenes...and Liam Neeson to subdue one or two with a silver-handled cane) You know what you’re in for when the very first words spoken by the main villain—Ralph Fiennes’ Goeth—are a foul-mouthed variation of Colonel Klink-speak...“Ja, vhy ist der top down? I’m fuckink freezink.” Yet Liam Neeson, the Only Good Aryan, gets to stride about talking like a heel-clicking Roger Moore.

Nutzies, Neos vs.

“I am ceaselessly attacked by real anti-Semites for not facing up to ‘the Jewish question’—and now I am being smeared by the ADL (and the extremist Jewish Defense League) for supposedly providing ‘fodder for anti-Semites.’” —Justin Raimondo

The difference, dear Justin, is when we “ceaselessly attack” you, you light another Pall Mall and move on to the next order of business; when they do ya, they do ya simultaneously in the New York Post, the Weekly Standard, Commentary, the National Review, Townhall.com, Newsmax, Front Page, Fox News Network, syndicated talk radio coast-to-coast, half a hundred Jew blogs and Brian Williams makes a little face when he utters your name while mentioning the story in passing. And, oddly enough, you feel compelled to write a few immediate-response columns answering every charge...something you never favor us with when we heckle you at Bund meetings. That’s okay; you remembered to list “anti-Semites” first on the Threat Board regardless, which tells me you already know how the Game is played. Just keep the heat on Hymie, boychik. You may not have realized it yet, but you just (resoundingly!) made the one Enemies’ List it’s not humanly possible to be removed from...ever. Any apologies or “explanations” you offer the Horowitzim from here on out will be wasted breath.

Order”, How a Bill Becomes a “Law &

The account from Chai Soua Vang to investigators differs sharply from details released Monday by the Sheriff’s Department and from the accounts of the victims, who describe an essentially unprovoked shooting rampage by Vang.

That makes it official then: this story is now primed to be dramatized as a Law & Order next season. The hunters will be turned into drunken, hooting, racist frat boys who come from money. (The leader will be blond-haired, blue-eyed and will have the current issue of National Vanguard in his pick-up). The drunken, subhuman Hmong mass-murderer will be slightly amended to a graduate student who gets lost in the woods while researching his Masters’ dissertation on woodland ecospheres. He stumbles across six drunken hunters who by that time are loaded enough to be just itching to torture a nonwhite, any nonwhite. The peace-loving Hmong endures a terrible beating, but it’s only when the whites drop their trousers to gang-rape him that he grabs one of their rifles and kills them all in a white-hot moment of totally justified rage.

When details of the victims’ racist beliefs are made known to him, crusading DA Jack McCoy cuts a lenient plea bargain with the Hmong and then takes aim at the real villains here—the parks department, who went along with a blatantly racist policy of “no trespassing on private property” by refusing to build tree stands on public land at taxpayer expense. He loses the case, but takes solace from helping initiate IRS audits of the victims’ survivors in the epilogue.

At five minutes of, we’ll get “scenes from the next episode of Law & Order” where’ll we see McCoy haranguing a sobbing 10-year-old Boy Scout on the witness stand: “Isn’t it a fact that you hate your scoutmaster because you’re gay yourself?!? ”

Must See TV. Literally; you’re fined for not watching. On NBC: No Black Criminals; Nor Bad Chinks.

Pages, Puzzle

A gun-to-your-head what-if.

If you could trade every black in America for a Hindu or a Chinaman...or a Mexican or a Samoan or a Hmong...who’d you pick? Because you’re definitely making that trade, it’s just a matter of who for. (Anti-racists hate this question because they invariably answer, “Hindus, but that’s not the point, the point is that you’re sick yada yada”, involuntarily giving away their gut response of wishing the boolies gone.)

The far thornier part of this equation—finding some nation or nations who would willingly take American blacks, lock stock and barrel—we’ll leave aside for now. We’re playing a game here...not trying to find the square root of pi.

Papers, See You In The Phony

Homeboy doin’ his homework, as I once overheard a Affikin-Amerikan quipping. Here is the Observer interview with Jayson (“Prevaricate, don’t playa-hate”) Blair, in which he sticks to the 21st-century script of making civil-rights lemonade out of those lemons he got caught stealing. Being a burrhead in today’s America means if all else fails, blame Whitey and his raciss system. And “all else” refers to the first thing you were considering trying.

As this story develops, it strikes me that we’ve all worked with “Jayson Blair”...the AA-hire/social-promotion with little merit and less shame, who walk in the first day on the job convinced if they don’t own the business after two weeks, it’s definitely racism at work. Guys like this are working Whitey from kindergarten on...even when they’re given opportunities they clearly haven’t warranted, you-a-raciss is always Plan B, close at hand. They know that YOU know you cannot afford to be accused of racism; it’s that simple. As you read this story and the fairly blunt blind quotes about Blair from his associates, think for a moment at how scathing and vicious those quotes would be (and every one on the record, for a change) if he were white.

In the end, Blair’s fatal flaw—and the most maddening aspect of this scandal—is, like many thousands of Professional People of Color, he didn’t understand that no one was fooled for a second by his act...they simply didn’t want their own livelihoods curtailed by drawing the short straw and having to say what everybody else already knew, thus becoming the Diversity Pinata Of The Week in corporate America. It’s for this reason I personally can’t get enough Jayson Blair. The more he talks, and the more his fellow ZOGbots scurry to find ways to claim that, despite everything, it’s still your fault for being white...the harder White America is slammed in the head by the boot of Race Reality. Blair may be laughing at the white man, but within 24 hours of this article’s appearance, most of those same white men will be stirring their double mocha lattes and wondering how best to defuse Blair’s land mines and defend him anyway against the real villains here: the Evil White Men who overlooked his con-man history, gave him an all-access pass regardless, ignored his dishonesty and incompetence from Day One on the clock, and paid him well for humiliating them.

Now he gets to cash in, buy a townhouse and a Benz, hobnob with Shaq and Puffy and maybe even trade in his regular skeezer for a white supermodel who’s so used to dark meat she’ll call him “dawg” without prompting.

The larger implications of the Jayson Blair story are so damaging to the American Proposition of Racial Non-existence, and so potentially awakening to Barcalounger America, that...beyond tonight’s news and tomorrow’s talkfests...this story will officially be declared dead by Friday if not before. It will be “let’s turn the page and move on” time. Again. Show’s over, folks! barks Officer O’Rothstein. Faith, there’s nothin t’see here!

Parts, We Don’t Rightly Care for Your Kind in These

What are Black Americans supposed think when 18 percent of U.S. casualties in Iraq were black soldiers, and a couple of weeks later, an all white prom is allows to go unchallenged?

The same thing the other 82 percent were supposed to think when they were alive and forced to clap their hands for all-black colleges, all-black TV networks, all-black public events and the odd Million Man March: Eat it and smile, pal.

Peace, Increase Tha

Here, a Negress essentially recycles a story that “alternative” weeklies run every few years, same as with AIDS stories. Although the purported message of this thing is “we be killins each other!” there is always that surly undertone—if not overt, then implied with a ball-peen hammer—that this is somehow the fault of “the cops” or “the politicians”, thus “the white power structure”, thus “the whites”.

This is the one unending, never-changing core of all these urban-hell stories. Underneath all the hatred and resentment of whites is the grudging, sotto voce mutter of “help us, you white devil muthafuckas!” As if anyone of any color could possibly “help” blacks from being murderous animals. Then there is the obligatory Reagan/Bush domessick policies done made us kill each other fo six dollaz okeydoke that—by this point—only burrheads (and learned white academics) believe. Look, nobody despises Bush, pere and fils, more than Yrs Truly, but blacks would be free-range savages whether or not we funded the contras or went to war with Iraq. What none of these piercing social critiques ever touches upon is that when segregation ruled and white cops regularly busted heads in black neighborhoods, five year olds weren’t routinely shot dead in crack-gang turf battles. The benefit accrued from the tactics of the bad old days of segregation and police racism was that most blacks got to make it past 11 years old and could at least walk their own streets without fear...but like most minorities carefully reared under Jewish indoctrination, Ince will not settle for anything less than utter fantasy beyond any prayer of actualization. So instead of arriving at “4” when she adds 2 + 2, she prefers to turn to the sages like “Chuck D” for the answers, and quotes (with a straight face somehow!) black “educators” who explain away constant gunshots and street homicide with “these kids are acting up again”(!). Uneducable, even when they’re “educated”.

This cradle-to-grave cycle of dependance/defiance towards their moral and intellectual superiors never ends—and I had to chuckle at one line in this story that proves how clueless even the most articulate mooncricket is to what they laughingly call Reality. The writer asks, referring to yet another waste-of-time government program allocated fruitlessly to keep niggas from actin’ like niggas, “Why, in a time of economic duress, are taxpayers kicking out so much money for this?”

Because we’re not doing it willingly, dumbass. The taxpayers are never consulted on these matters; we’re simply pantsed prior to insertion by politicians at will. Were it up to us, you people would be cordoned off behind an electrified fence to prey upon each other until the overpowering stench of death signalled that your numbers had at last thinned out to a manageable total.

Ms Ince should have turned to any garden-variety white racist if she were truly interested in the answer to “why are we killing each other, and when will this end?” It’s because you are black, ma’am; and as long as you’re allowed to move about without strict white supervision, it will never end. Never.

Pistachio, We’re All Out of

There are only two flavors of “nigger” left on Earth, thanks in large part to the Podhoretzim: Sand and White.

Placebos, Samizdat

There’s no dearth of talent out there, but the alt-weekly pseudorealist is never going to be an honest man or a major writer if he doesn’t realize his “rebel-against-the-Empire” stance is as programmed as a printout; only his programming goes like this:

1. Whites are orderly and productive, thus evil; blacks are savage thus wild thus uninhibited thus honest thus creative thus “free” thus noble. And those giant wangs don’t hurt, either.

2. Other than that, always question authority.

Planet, See What’s on Animal

The overnight Neilsens for a Bush speech are microscopic, but that’s easily explained. People become nervous—even ill—watching speeches by Maximum Leaders they know they’re smarter than. Even monkeys in zoos get restless during televised Bush addresses.

Progress, Pinhead’s

War is peace. Freedom is slavery.

But not even George O could have foreseen Dum Dum Jr’s spin on the above:

War is freedom. Peace is slavery.

It’s time to shitcan false pride and admit that Bush has become the apocalyptic nightmare we thought we’d surely be getting with a Gore administration. Blowjobs in the Oval Office seem to be a million miles away, and a far more trivial order of Evil than what we’re waist-deep in now. Remember all those starchy conservative editorials of yore warning us that a priapic Prez made him liable to geoblackmail should The Evil Ones entrap him with a Mata Hari, and thus pose a high risk to American security? Sure you do...they were all written by the same people who praise Bush for his “poise” and “faith-based leadership” whenever he claims God’s whispering “ready, fire, aim!” into his ear, compelling him to spread the rich creamery butter of democracy on the waffles of tyranny.

Clinton’s sexual antics embarrassed the office of the Presidency, but at the end of the day it was just him getting serviced. Bush’s notions of governing are fucking us all.

Raters, Second

Can someone explain how we end up with Joe Farahs? I already know why he’s given a “mainstream”, high-profile website to run: his ability to churn out drivel in lieu of writing anything of value, and his eagerness to perform this trick again and again. But how is it we’re plagued with so many of them—the Joe Farahs, the Cal Thomases, the William Bennetts? For every Sobran or Sailer we get—hell, for every Charley Reese!—there are twenty of these philoSemitic valet parkers signing off on twaddle like this twice a week!

Roman, Driving While

There’s only so much alteration the basic story of Christ can accomodate, after all. We all know the who, when, where and why for 2,000 years now, whether you’re an adherent or not. What is any filmmaker supposed to do here exactly—give Him a girlfriend? A black sidekick named “Rerun”? A Nike swoosh on His raiment? It is what it is.

Since you can never go broke underestimating the sheer brass balls of a Jew, I guess their new tack—the dirty rotten Romans did it, under the explicit orders of that first-century Saddam Hussein (or was that the Hitler in a toga? I forget now) murderous, megalomaniacal Pilate—is to be expected. What’s truly frightening is how many people now stop struggling against their restraints and simply parrot this. I’ve heard more perfunctory Pilate-bashing in Anno Domini 2004...it’s like the media just now discovered the ancient world had no due process or Miranda law, and have decided to go for jury-nullification in the interests of “justice”.

That’s funny. I seem to recall (and I’m hardly Chuck E. Church, so correct me if I’m off the mark here) that Pilate was the governor presiding over a gaggle of Semites he generally disdained so thoroughly he strove whenever possible to extend them a measure of autonomy in their intramural, hebe-said-she-said squabbles. When actually confronted with Christ, he was genuinely puzzled why this fellow would be so insanely hated by his fellow Jews, even taking some pity on him as a man—but, as it was a Jewish matter, he left it for the Jews to decide. He even extended them the gift of a get-off-the-cross-free card and they used it for Barrabas instead. At every turn, the willful choice to crucify Jesus of Nazareth was undertaken by the Jews. I mean, everybody knows this. There are no heroes in this story, but that doesn’t mean that every actor in this play was a villain of equal culpability, and it for sure doesn’t use The New Math to hang the ultimate blame upon the one guy who genuinely felt some revulsion at the proceedings.

Yes, yes, I know, metaphorically we all killed Him; but technically, on that day in 33 AD, I think the people howling incessantly for his death mighta had a little something more to do with it than the centurion putting in his O/T, or the slave selling peanuts and popcorn to the crowd.

Selling, Whatever You’re Buying Is What They’re

Saddam, Saudi Arabia and Serbia constitute a genuine fascist axis, and that is the real axis of evil. Is war necessary against all of them? No, Serbia has been defeated; what it needs is the purge of all fascist elements from its political and economic life, and their full punishment. —Stephen Schwartz, a.k.a. Suleyman Ahmad

“Merely”, Suley ol’ kid; it “merely” needs the purge of all fascist elements, and the firstborn garroted with piano wire, while the remaining few get to watch Schindler’s List Anthony Burgess-style till even a ten-second History Channel promo initiates an involuntary grand-mal seizure. That’s the rational course of action.

Hey, I thank God for Schwartzie, who makes it so easy for me with his built-in two-headed-baby-in-a-jar appeal. “La-DEES and GENNUL-men, can you hearts stand the shocking horror of SUUU-LEY-MAN Ah-MAAAAD, Nature’s cruelest clerical error? SEE the ON-ly Zionist Muslim jihadist in-n-n cap-TIV-ity! Four bits for a sight that’ll haunt your nightmares for the rest of your natural-born days!.....go ‘way, boy, ya bother me...”

And just think—until Suleyman, I’d thought “Wahabbi” was what a Puerto Rican would say if he didn’t hear you the first time.

Sender, Return to

I think that we should build them a nice country with nice, modern infrastructure, just to assuage our consciences...Tip them nicely, and send them on their way.

I can’t think of another group of savages in the history of the world whose victims have wasted so much concern on. The bleeding heart is almost the default position on blacks—it unites their most passionate defenders and harshest detractors alike. Build them a nice country...tip them generously...I know where you’re coming from and I still shake my head in disbelief. It’s as if I broke into your home, raped your wife, cooked and ate your dog, shat on your sofa and wiped myself with your kids’ baby pictures...and in response, you buy me a house. Hello?

Seminar, Massachusetts to Host Fisting

In the movie Salo, there’s a memorably sick line that comes when the four politically-powerful perverts are addressing the dozens of terrified children they have kidnapped from their families for deviant purposes: “The punishment for any boy caught having normal sex with a girl will be loss of a limb.” It couldn’t help but come to mind while reading this story: one that brings that deSadean scenario closer to fruition. For me, the most pukeworthy element of this is the spin in articles like this (and I think it’s safe to assume the authors are in on the “fun” and get down on all fours to fuck). The phony, placating tone of “we’re no different than you heteros—we like long walks in the park, Rice Krispy Squares, Vivaldi records, the taste of petroleum-based lubricant...” is insulting the way any blatantly false promise made by a ludicrously transparent liar is insulting.

Wasn’t it only 15 or so years ago when we were being scaremongered into thinking AIDS was going to kill 25% of the world population—as gays took a page from Jews and began crying “holocaust” before they’d even boarded the first cattle car? And now, everywhere you look there’s another “AIDS survivor” who wants to marry his brunser and cough on your kid while he straps on rubber gloves to teach him Alternative Sexuality 101 in the fourth grade as mandated by state law. If Buchanan ever decides to devote a book to this topic, may I respectfully suggest he title it An Exit, Not An Entrance.

Shop?, Should Schwartzers

I am totally for not lettin’ em into stores: “management reserves the right” not to have its pagers and IPODs boosted by a skell with three dollars on him to begin with. I’m sure the threat of lawsuits and endless Yo Onna, I calls to da stand Pastor Neckmeat Jefferson of Da Affikin-Baptiss Choich type of depositions would force merchants to allow a few dung bunnies in so they could point to the security tape for the “I am not a racist” part of their testimony.

Sullivan, Andrew

I tend to discount anyone whose rectum gets as much traffic as his website. If not more.

Suspects, The Usual

On cop shows, the arrest of a black perp always means a red herring, and dat ole debbil Racism at work. It’s getting to be a cliche—the bullet-riddled body sprawled on the ghetto sidewalk, the laconic detectives canvassing the scene and talking to witnesses, and the inevitable radio call to HQ: “We’re looking for a male, Caucasian...”

Taxes, Freedom: It’s as American as

So it’s come to this. I’ve seen “conservatism” tumble down the rabbit hole to Zion-in-Wonderland before, but Horowitz’s rag just drops the mask altogether here, revealing the Bronstein behind the Trotsky behind the neoconservatives behind the Administration. By using the cynical ploy of fixating upon one tiny insignificant splinter group, Horowitz-and-stooge try their darndest to link the entire momentum of tax resistance to that old standby, “the America-hating Left”. Are you pissed off that your country is forcing you to subsidize the despoiling of your country, the coarsening of your culture, and your own eventual cheaper-foreign-replacement besides?

Then beware! You’re a Red dupe! Especially if you’re a Nazi. And many thanks to Frontpage for continually insisting that the Nazis and the Commies were the exact same thing, only with different p.r. campaigns. Gosh, the world used to be complicated before, dinnit?

That even a phony conservative like DH would run a “three cheers for the IRS” piece, reminding his readership that true patriots grin when 40% of their earnings are withheld or they’re negotiating the Quarterly Tax minefield, safe in the knowledge that Private Johnny Jones won’t run out of ammo defending Fort Zinderneuf from the heathen Tuareg hordes, boggles the mind.

Televitz

I don’t really believe people who bang on that “kill your televitz” drum. I certainly feel that way at times, but people do not readily go backwards (even if going backwards is the salutary course). Neither are people going to shut off their electricityberg or throw away their computersteins because, after all, life was better when it was rugged and spartan.

Troof, Ain’t It Tha

In today’s ‘Kwa, only a nigger can get a holiday named after him for disobeying an unjust law. The rest of us walk Shmuel’s plank.

Useta, They Ain’t Readin’ Off Teleprompters Like They

I frankly lost touch (and faith) with TV news when it stopped being delivered by old men and ugly women. It’s not like I’m under any illusions that the old men and ugly women were paragons of ideological virtue; I just appreciated the ambient factor of serious-looking people handling serious-seeming programming.

The other day I’m watching a few moments of a local newscast (it doesn’t really matter which one, except to note that Fox’s is always, always, the worst and most degrading to endure) running a human-interest story about an old brother and sister (white, for a change) being evicted from a home they’d lived in for 73 years. When the story had concluded, we were returned to the anchor-desk where the idiot woman anchor made a my-puppy-just-died face and said, “Awwwww. That is soooo-o sad. Hope it all works out for them.” Then, with an appallingly-unexpected lascivious twinkle in her eye, she grinned “Coming up: Lisa takes us behind the scenes at an erotic lingerie boutique; and Dr Jeff will be here to tell us (comical frown-face now) if it’s ever going to stop raining! Right after this.” Ever reach for your remote while fighting your gag reflex?

Now, Walter Cronkite, Roger Grimsby, Chet Huntley, Harry Reasoner: they’ve all been good soldiers for ZOG in their own way, of course, but none of them would’ve reached into my shorts to give me the low-IQ human-interest handjob of that “Awwwww.” Black and Chinese anchors only look bad until you get a dose of the white idiots they’re offering us these days.

Vowel, I’d Like to Buy a

Starts with an “N”. Ends with an “R”. Add an “S” for the plural form. It’s simultaneously the word you can’t say and the only word that fits the Crossword of Collapse. As goes Zimbabwe, so too goes Oakland and Detroit. Look on the bright side, though—it used to be the other way around. On the not-so-bright side, that doesn’t indicate an Oaktown/Motown renaissance—it just means Zimbabwe became much much worse. You have to wonder what people so squeamish about uttering a six-letter word will do when the rest of Western civilization follows suit.

Weight, Chief Fab Eagle Losum Heap Big

The Parade of Lights, as the Rocky Mountain News reported, “includes the Two Spirit Society, which honors gay and lesbian American Indians as holy people...”

“Yes, I’d like to trade in this crucifix for a lilac-scented arrowhead, please.”

“Ah. Joining the Two Spirit Society, are you?”

“Yes, my two kids and I are riding in the float at this year’s Parade of Lights.”

“Sounds fab. Who’s the float honoring this year?”

“Mates Like Crab, the chieftain of the Kaposi Sarcomas.”

Wine, I Never Drink…

I’ve seen almost all the Draculas, including some memorably awful versions...Jack Palance (acting through his nostrils like always), anyone? How about the one starring freeze-dried Continental rent-boy Louis Jourdan? Or ageless, forever-impotent stick figure David Niven? (Coppola’s Dracula was awful, btw. Five words, ok? Keanu Reeves is in it.)

I gotta go with Lugosi simply because no other actor cast in the role credibly embodies Transylvanian aristocracy. An Englishman like Chris Lee brings physical presence, but we need centuries-old, mittel-European ambience and he’s just too “modern”. That goes double for Oldman’s Dracula, who, with his long hair in a Zsa Zsa bun, and John Lennon glasses (and Keanu ‘n’ Winona, and the single worst Van Helsing in memory—Anthony Hopkins at his most shameless) apparently was being aimed at the goth/grunge market. Max Schreck and Kinski are simply too bizarrely ugly to be remotely credible as Dracula, seducer of women (the real reason for the character’s longevity)—you might as well put a velvet cape on Verne Troyer. Lon Chaney Jr was just too much a Midwestern lunkhead to ever make the role his own, even though he did pretty well in his one try. And John Carradine walked through the part a few times, too—cleverly adding a top hat, which did most of his acting for him.

Creaky and stagebound it may be, but only Lugosi’s Dracula convinces me that this is a 500-year-old nobleman from the Carpathian mountains who predates Western civilization, cursed to walk the night forever thirsting for blood. (None of this Anne Rice Dracula in leather pants sipping a mimosa in a German disco blasting Front 242 nonsense for Bela. Bela would turn into a rubber bat, fly into Anne Rice’s room, and turn that gravy-sweating goth dyke into Dracula’s Fattest-Ever Bride.) The great art direction of Dracula’s castle in the early scenes is memorably cobwebbed and creepy; the “musical soundtrack” isn’t much more than the occasional strains of Swan Lake—but then what could be scarier than a tinny, far-off-sounding Swan Lake? In fact, the antiquatedness of the production is what helps sell it to a modern audience. And the lack of a Busta Rhymes jam boomin’ over the end credits helps enormously.

Words, Famous Last

I don’t mean to sound like a lunatic continually sounding the same note, but...