The man stood shivering out in the woods alone in his underwear having been chased there. Or so it seemed in the emotional sense of same. In point of fact it was his job to patiently pass his time watching others who were unawares of his presence. People that might one day hear his last name in passing but would not know much more about who he was or why he mentioned the things about their lives that he ultimately did. A leper? An outcast? Someone with an axe to grind upon the stone of misanthropy? The P.I. was but a substantiation for the alternative titled of sentinel. What was it about anyhow? Watching for activity and making a report. The context of the usable reality fashioned like a blacksmith to properly fit the right hoof of a left-handed horse of a different color. The profession taking a certain amount of nose for danger and intuition to stay clear of it as when it arrived it generally caught one unawares. You could name all the things you could do standing silent and unmoving in an ever recycling mantra. “Cigars, cigarettes,Tiparillo!s” If you had been on the job for a while you had to notice little things like wind direction and the disposition of weather. And yes, the effect of boredom and the most lingering of thoughts that left one restless and unable to find an answer to those age old questions of why if you thought you were not the right track without he girl you had married so long ago had it gone so awry? How could that matter to the larger scheme of human existence? That fickle beast made up of at best well-meaning sponger’s obsessed primarily with their own sense of self-survival that saw others as potentially lethal to their own sense of well-being. One could convince themselves in the these empty times that any conclusion was inevitable. Unwind one’s self from the tangle of the Gorgon’s hair taken on in fitful sleep washed up from the ocean of night. The situation was irresolvable in even more specific details.
“Subject arrives 10:23 PM, silver gray Lexus carrying package intuit he premises at 687 Philborn Court. He returned to the vehicle two more time over the course of the next ten minutes removing several more shopping bag sized parcels from its trunk.” The art of the process was to capture some sense of intent. Was there a corpse within he residence somewhere that needed attending two in processing it someway to allow for disposal? Were the parcels containing raw materials for the production of an illegal controlled substance? Perhaps, the subject was aiding and abetting a fugitive sequestered inside waiting for the winds to blow over before making an escape? Fit the mundane pieces together as the theory went and one might at some point be able to identify the composite picture unifying the entire puzzle. But, then that was not part of the job? Someone else was was paid to do that? They just needed a detailed dispassionate report to play their part of this game. What was the name? Bright young assistant prosecutor has hunch and wants to use it to rise up another rung before their mid-thirties? Inter agency collaboration desiring vindication of their swelling budget before next year’s election? Who was anybody kidding?
The notion of exile brushed past now and again like the rustle of dry leaves. One could not help but turn in that direction with a start. One might forget their place for a moment and let their sense of animal survival flood in for the breath of that instant. Occasionally look back int he direction of focus to the job to see that the movie had restarted and surmise that some possible slight detail had gone unseen while one’s attention had been diverted. This was the sort of convenient stage for reweaving the tale to benignly forget the possibility of that lost detail. Were did the human dimension of one’s limits ever come officially into the discussion beyond a negative assessment of fitness? How could the mundane of any vocation be conceded extraordinary? The fact of the matter was that the routine set of activities that might be connected to any task were ordinary. It was more about assessing the frequent regularity of behavior that gave the true picture of the subject’s character and intent. “Was the grass regularly mowed by the subject?” “How about the car?” “Was it well kept?” “Late model?” “Bought new or used, or hot!?” “What sort of clothes worn during the early morning versus later in the day?” Unless specifically asked for these tidbits lay unused within that dark gray storeroom within one’s brain case but carved the clay of the impressions about the individuals under watch.
The woods were indifferent to this sort of activity. One might leave the impressions of their shoe size in soft ground and broken twigs. And even if careful enough to sweep clean the butts upon departure provide other kinds of evidence that would declare their presence to the surrounding vicinity. Some several stories below at root level of blades of grass some other creature similarly bent would remain stationary in semi-seclusion analyzing the movements of a smaller less agile pest. Noting its movement and coloring and overall body shape cross-referencing the advisability to advance in expectancy of a quick meal or dig in for the equal possibility of being attacked. Side mounted compound eyes or twin photoelectric sensors mounted on stalks, the routine of assembling details and patterns of physical behavior were assessed and the advisability of action passed upon. The success of the process ultimately determining if the practitioner was going to munch or be munched. No different in the larger macrocosm’s ever shifting bureaucracy of indifferent ‘new brooms’ devising meaningless changes in ‘SOPs’ for purely self-serving arbitrary reasons. Who after all was the hunter and who was the prey in the hierarchy of the species? The thought occasionally past his mind of explanations and the stock associated behavior’s ready to offer explanation for his loitering. Ignore? Act Lost? Simply walk away.
The dirtiest experience I can think of these days goes under a single word that starts with a ‘P’ and ends in ‘s’. An anathema that is so horrific that many won’t even entertain the thought of conjugating it silently in their own mind nor allow discussion of anything related to it without running to the nearest exit. Yet it is the defining element that is the source of lifelong frustration. As an individual cut off in the emotional desert of mass humanity it is impossible to imagine a world where strangers that one will never meet have such control over almost everything that you are allowed to believe. And certainly what you had better do, or else! The organism of the nuclear family vivisected by detaching nervous channels of direct communication but leaving the corpus just enough blood flow in its extremities to feel the full impact of futility about a future and make them suffer because of it. This ultimate horror of serving as a chattel in lifelong servitude based upon the vague notion of attainment of a personal fantasy refuge is the bonkers standard. You don’t dare have a one to one face to face conversation with anyone, stranger or friend, in an election season. Because what you will be offered format he other party is liable to drive you bonkers. And of course, your own sanity will be challenged because you will be roughly acquainted with the fact of how out their you really are because you have run afoul of the current ‘conventional acceptability’ of that aforementioned word. There is no room here for adequate ground level common sense or for carefully constructed intellectual “two plus two equal four’ didactic. The convenient fiction of rationalizing any contradiction approaching from afar summarily dismissed like some ancient Medieval trial by fire. The hand that picks up the red hot iron expected it’s flesh to miraculously survive empty of burned flesh and blisters. The resident dogma does not allow for any other experience! So the regular population are cast in the role of vampire bats challenged by the flickering light of their view screens to view this senseless truth that harmony and consensus are but empty words from a very distant unimaginable past. All this from the convenient notions that form the focus of modern penology. That chaos that comes to one’s soul when the worst of their animal inclinations are freed and released upon the world. And one realizes how very truly apart from everyone around them that they really are.
All double crossed by advancing age in defiance of that last kernel of whom they think they are. The vagaries of life’s defeats evident to all but their bearer’s. But they must endure the dismissive looks of the indoctrinated young with their doctrinaire disgusts. Old Jews of constant opinion on their best behavior before the uncomprehending Goyim acting reasonably human for the moment. Their Raggedy Ann Muppet children passing by, authoritatively lost. The untranslatable rumble of these overly bucolic territorial groups routinely launching their daily harangues. All portrayed in the ‘big Macher’ style of potent hostile takeover in a Zionist approved exegesis making light of their former predatory careers. The ‘tribe’s’ sycophants too quickly mirroring the worst of these behaviors as taught. Not an ounce of respect afforded, even within their own! And certainly not for anyone outside of that tight knit little cabal. Yet all the rest without must in turn put up with them, as they supposedly run the show? The wood box player hammering his instrument like a murderer trying to kill his mentor in a cathartic St. Vitus dance aplomb. As much the faux artist impossible to judge his own misguided results properly. The restlessness of this crew expressed in nervous little phone whistles and tweets. The surrounding audience lost. But not quite in its improvisation as something suggesting music with all those false passions and overly indulgent quavering and quakes.
It is no longer the case built upon the assimilation of knowledge that has come of an inclusive education. But rather the simple appearance of the same. Those most recollected faux impressions of the most well-regarded views that come of daily association with the current dogmas on the current day. If one considers the starkness of the human form in all its many unprotected configurations as released unashamedly from its coverings, the effect is tremendous! Yet another apparent mystery is overlooked as we eventually wither and rot away. Once too often by choice and then not pretending to know. The preferred state of unconsciousness of the young is to be disconnected from the exterior reality via a smart phone’s ear plugs. The banality of their personal soundtrack blaring out the appearance of stilted form of distracted reality.
Part of a woman’s attractiveness is not really knowing her all that well. So that in one’s own mind they get to fill in the missing details in any manner that they wish to. What happens to all that stored up beauty of the soul as a young woman turns old? Does it evaporate? Or distill? An unexpected hug or a dance, and it can be released from the darkest most disused prisons from the forgotten depths of the oldest of crones. I study the artifacts of these women. And in them ponder my own lately deceased mother’s personal attachments? The question arising of what she saw in this type of collection of random things? Flowered purses and junk jewelry. Of past events? Or their utility in heightening the promise of enhancing physical beauty? Some special event long ago lost that they represented? How sad and sweet, as the physical beauty fades leaving its abstracted remnant in the most unique and striking features remaining. Will futility be overcome by the unexpected developments of something positive? I waited sitting before a table awaiting his instruction like a clown. Anger!! Unreasoning frustrating evidence from the demeanor of everyone around me? Why? Is there an effort to start a war? It is a funny state of aging to feel eternally young and be considered as past it?
I sense a chance! One so fundamental banging about this mental basement that creates an unprecedented level of public unease. This place may become unfit to live. A tyranny of too many inflexible minorities intolerant of the notion of each other. “Be nice the the fat white boy!” For his ire will one day consume you all! The horse hoof discipline of a female runner. Tolerance afforded only to those who maintain the thin veneer of happy fixtures. Older white guys sitting silently alone wasting their intellect on crossword puzzles. Customs honored only at the point of a sword. The same old house Jew ready to intimidate that other super-sized white guy with the loudness of his barely veiled sarcasm and scorn. What were the wonder products come of WW2? Plexiglass and jet engines? He acts as his group’s expected moral center. A cheerleader and case manipulator as phony tough Judas goat.
The age of man in the salad bowl of he United States seems epitomized by the salty mismatch of ethnic faces of every possible imagining posed as yet another example of that amorphous enigmatic thing called ‘American’. It’s unending progression extending back to the rest of the planet through that easy portal of entry of major metropolitan airports into cities and towns that once maintained the appearance of primarily European descent. The older population realizing with some level of shock that they are being rapidly replaced! The inheritors of that far flung empire ceded to ‘New World’ custody by their British cousins and inspired by an ‘Old World Semitic’ moneyed elite’s had perhaps taken their first real notice of the front edge of this wave during the earliest years of the nineteen-eighties at the universities and the hospitals where many unexpectedly darker strange faces were found to be working on advanced degrees in technical topics. Some others from equally enigmatic faraway places staying to start small stores in no go zones of urban ghettos where whites were no longer welcome. Or piloting small national franchise business’ launched on tight budget margins kept alive by the cooperation of tight knit extended families. These varied hordes come from different corners of the planet eventually filling outlying subdivisions surrounding all the major metropolis’ and creating neighborhoods foreign to that expected paradigm sketched nightly by saccharine primetime television values. Ones that would have been absent in Hollywood movies of the nineteen-forties where almost everything foreign in appearance was to be duly suspected as potentially urn-American.
A hundred mile band excluding Fourth Amendment rights surrounding every natural border on the entire coast the United States where two-thirds of its citizens are subject by bureaucratic monster of the Department of Homeland Security who retains the Draconian right to monitor all electronic devices. What was once considered typically American has been dramatically changed by this slow invasion of migrants. What had once been seasonal treks over borders from the the southern border for gainful employ turning into permanent residency. The same old instigators of this phenomena in the 1965 Hart Celler Act of Congress the primary vehicle for transforming the entirety of American society into a dim reflection of the ‘modern Prometheus’ tale’ ala a Mary Shelley. All under the Globalist UNESCO umbrella of what became an equally foreign didactic within public education centered about a shifted narrative where the original population’s heritage was cast out of any lofty regard and tossed into the mud as a series of unfortunate events in history.
The paradoxical notions of global equivalence now are laid like a thin blanket upon a tightly constructed rigid grid of celebratory ethnic heritage defined by past infamies visited upon them by the transgressions of empire that had long ago supposedly been suffered. The larger irony that the tiny power group that had instigated two world wars to support their own economic master plan by convincing Europeans to engage in wars with each other was now singling them out as the villains in historically deceitful Hollywood scripted narratives. The once majority population then constantly under siege and viscously stripped of the same the rightful respect by this narrowly focused Globalist agenda inspired by Sayanam Liberals who demanded irrevocable penalties of cultural exile for everything they deemed as ‘white’. The only true expression of that thing called American being in advertising strategies portraying an illusory Utopia of commercial products and predatory corporate franchise based services to process the greater herd within for monetary gain.
Thus enter a Donald Trump initially cast by the indentured airwaves as a media jester of the attainment of ‘old world’ white American dreams that demonstrated by default of his impressive personal success the inequality of things considered longstanding ‘White’ versus the ever changing new commercial ‘normal’ of the ‘victim minority’ of the month. The plan to fully dissemble the corpse of the United States into a watered down EU styled phantom population run by foreign based councils of commissioners interrupted by his entry as a potential President of the United States. The enemy of the economic power elite’s goal of impending world hegemony at odds with anything nationalistic. Especially with their sworn enemies of Christian European based descendants. These morally savaged populations ceaselessly squeezed into self-destructive mindsets now heavily challenged in having to decide to risk everything for the regaining of their self-respect or face a potentially violent destruction by neighboring populations that have long been indoctrinated to automatically hate them. The most disparaged analogy of modern entertainment propaganda of the unrepentant Caucasian hero another inspired St. Michael slaying the dragon of a rapaciously malignant foreign evil. The wiring of notions of all groups transplanted or home grown so purposefully askew by purposeful misdirection that they can only see their own respective sense of inevitable scenarios of world chaos.
Like ‘dry drunk’ alcoholic’s those stricken with the affliction by lifetime based career Liberalism cannot withhold their stilted judgments to find any intellectual common ground with those that they disagree. They are too far up the asshole of the “Do What Thou Wilt!” “Anything Is Possible!” sense of human manifest destiny to respect any time honored limitations wrought of age old cultures. This is the arrogance Marxism, culturally imposed or otherwise. The thought that the much disparaged ethnic majority might be waking up from its culturally imposed narcotic slumber to demand its collective rights being their ultimate nightmare. So, in the corollary of one of their visually seductive mainstream market fantasy epics, they must band together to stop these Orcs!. The ‘Donald’ then becomes the unsexiest of Voldamar’s spewing what are hastily translated by a fevered left wing superstate apparatus as hard-hearted epithets against the currently milling agendas of those Global mentalities favor the generically ethnic genetic ‘milkshake’ that humanity by their own reckoning is to be engineered into over the not too distant future. No evil devious deceitfully destructive ‘witch’ terrible enough to not be advanced by their sentiments to block this resurgence of an ethnically ‘White’!
The day of reckoning! The Republican National Convention in Cincinnati! The forces of intransigence readying themselves for violent onslaught for the sake of the television cameras. Hell Raisers from the SPLC’s trick bag of Black Lives Matter anger enfranchised ghetto ‘bangers’ swelling their ranks to join in the fun for the sake of imposing chaotic anarchy. The Liberal Jewish network pundits are in a frenzy currently doing their best head trips to squash the most major threat to their current dominant hegemony of cultural management of the United States. “Stop “The Donald!” being the unofficial war cry. To them, Donald Trump represents everything mortally dangerous and traditionally Christian in moral focus to thwart an ongoing Globalist plan to fully transform America into a haven of Marxist ideologies. Anything deemed, ‘WHITE’, being deemed horrific and unacceptable! How ironic that in seventy years the political spectrum has done a complete flip-flop with Russia leaning more towards traditional European outlooks and the USA on track to become a post-Communist welfare state? This dialogue might seem distasteful to the fully indoctrinated ‘Millennial’s’ that seem doomed to be led around through the rest of their existences by the nose ringed dictates of latest most popular apps currently available on their smart phones. The current inflexible lack of upward mobility of the poor black and ethnic matched by an economically crashed white middle class. No hope of the cessation of the mounting devastation of this Cultural Marxist superstate to afford any relief from the inevitability of this country’s decline. The popular media no longer a proper source for a reading of simple facts but merely a tool for causing further dissension with pure spin. The lumpen masses of the Internet much more enthralled with Pokemon then the inevitability of their own bleak futures. The chasm of racial divide caused by a no holds barred shift in the voting demographic through the encouragement of importation of culturally hostile immigrants that hold radical perspective antagonistic to those that once were said to be essentially American. Starvation, economic and actual, being the traditional engine of genocide of a people well proven in so many lands it ravaged in the last century. All to suit the rambunctious tribe of two point two percent of the nation’s population who provide political Sayanim towards the goal of a one world Government headed specifically by their own. Is this a reprise of the fatal vision of the column of fire from a misplaced Hebrew tabernacle as imagined by Hollywood’s leading Zionist propagandist? To those feeling the heat around them building as they threaten to fall into their I-tablet’s live stream, somehow all these things can’t be happening!
If one learns anything in the course of several generations worth of human existence, it is that there is no one single view of right and wrong or how the heavens surrounding same will judge individual actions. The current term in the United States is “Cultural Relativism”. As with any term sanctioned by the quasi-government of media, multi-corporate influence and the current compacts local officials, it carries the weight of non-enforcement of previous bodies of common sense based customs that it directly overturns. Functionally it metaphorically puts rats, bunnies and goldfish in a cage and expects that the different personalities will sort things out by the conventions of a fear of the actions of the keeper. There is the outward side of compassion and understanding with a noble goal in mind of a Utopian perfect world. But just below, skin deep, is a devious presence of the keeper’s real motivation that the forced occupancy with lead to the extinction of all. The arbiter of recorded histories that remain by both victor and vanquished bring a more accurate view of intention based upon cycles of empires come and gone with similar levels of moral idealism. Wherein at face value the present demands that the past simply cease to exist before its beautiful concept of harmony, the past relies upon all the brutal lessons that are reaffirmed in the everyday actions of warring segments of mankind. Everyone sees the logic of their own case and the means of expression are always justified. No act vile enough. No amount of socially justified revenge swift enough. No fantasy of “happily ever after” sweet enough. All these and more reside in the most dangerous quality of the age in one’s dreams. It would be too cynical to believe that populations of themselves int he isolation of their own lands develop these perverse tendencies on their own. The pressures of political advantage directly wrought by the global cartel to impose their Byzantine strategies of deception by the sociological mismatch of diametrically opposite cultural groups creating the tool of chaos that allows for impending strictures favoring their hopes. What seems like accident or conspiracy is in fact an orchestrated set of events that are helped along from behind the curtains on ether end of the wings of the stage. The amalgamation of ‘WE” are then played like a disembodied piano in accompaniment. Their ‘right’ provides our ‘wrong’. And yet, very few within ground level humanity are willing to see it. The ongoing rule of animal fear and distrust becomes the modern flail and crook. History not being lost up top by those who wield it.
Motion graphics in all its many forms produces a simile that is cast in escapism from individual reality. The current times see this projected in the commercial entertainment genre, as a means of cultural instruction and surveillance.of society. If one takes the mechanism of capturing regular unvarnished existential episodes of momentary reality in it raw unvarnished form and strings it together as a larger statement it expresses a coherent appreciation of person that serves as it focal point. The question is then asked if the audience is privy to some sense of naked truth about its author? The episode viewed is not unsullied reality. but neither can it be understood to be trusted as absolute verifiable surveillance verified truth. The decisions behind the assemblage of these random scenes becomes the author’s message to the viewer that speaks to the mundane details but also to the thoughts motivating their capture. In this sense of perspective, this is an exercise in pure cinema.