Unwanted Role Play

Ralph thought to himself as his eyes stared over the rim of his foam charged beer glass. “I am empty.” A cotton sports shirt sweat covered mannequin bulging bulging out below him balanced on top of the bar stool. “I feel empty and am in an empty place.“, he declared solemnly with much theatrical gravity. This is not what many others around him currently experienced in their Saturday night revelries. A solitary Ralph looked down the line of stools beside him at the bar. The row of gesticulating puppets swinging back and forth upon their seat in-between their string bound limbs hoisting glasses in a precarious remote controlled manner. “So I don’t expect many others to understand. Nor would they want to!” His own glass hoisted up in toast but then slammed back down onto the messy counter with a sharp report. Bushy brows settled hard pressed into the top of the bridge of his nose. A continence bespeaking emotional waste surrounding his corner of the world leaving little, if any, hope for possibility of a mutually shared immediate future. Humans as waste being a metaphor inferring a different dimension rather than a more literal form of same. An attitude appealing to an extremist. But, then again, not offering promise.

“I’m caught up in blessed ignorance of doing good.“, said some character named Larry. Ralph’s glass once more airborne. The crowd behind him rambled on in droning nonsense of the simultaneous collision forty or fifty voices. All totally nonsensically incoherent to the ear and devoid of offering any ability to be decoded in the rational sense from a collective mis-understandability. “And you are caught up in the folly of your own opinions!“, said the now disembodied voice of this Larry. Ralph swinging around to find its source bestride his back. The chorus of conversation rising up into full beehive buzz. “It is like you and all your kind have gone mad!“, the haranguing voice blurted as the waxy face behind it moved its lips out of sync. “Mad with your own crazy opinions so virulent and vexing that no one will be able to ever talk reasonably sane with you ever again!” Ralph thought for a while at what was quickly descending into poorly veiled attacks of pseudo factual psychological vitriol. “Tiny torpedoes of verbal venom!“, the little voice inside Ralph’s head spake at half-volume stating behind the numbness in his ringing ears.

It seemed to be a very unfunny joke. At a corner coffee house table way back before the most forward corner of the room’s partition commanding a stage sat a small group of locals. Ones that if anyone else happened to be a frequent customer of this establishment would be familiar with their longstanding status as regulars. Two males taking center spotlight. One quietly passive aggressive while the other evidently too loud and ostentatious by comparison. Both holding court this day before a diminished roster of pre-menopausal females. The loudest talker, an outwardly extreporous orator making snide self-depreciatory quips bearing superficial similarity to his own appearance with that select membership evident in other members of his group. Something now trended popularly and termed as ‘white’. The ongoing conduct of his bile-soaked jibes loosely overflowing inclusive topics of blacks, women and Jews. But with this speaker underplaying his own part as an ignorant specious white buffoon. Someone too easily singled out as the ultimate butt of every one of his own jokes. A mirroring of one or two choices of the polar opposite energy levels publicly afforded from the immediate vicinity of supplicants to embrace. The initial process to obtain membership within this clan requiring the prerequisite of being Liberal minded by default and well-schooled in the Post-Communist tradition of ‘reeducation’ by mental self-incarceration. An egregious sense of irony if seen from afar by those few other objective parties that sought to remain well out of range of the larger arguments. It’s very public demonstration serving as an overbearing social monitor following the  model for sanctimonious public behavior in the contemporary Western world these days. The fat man’s face was accoutered in a typical ‘agent provocateur‘ style beard and mustache housed by a dark complexion that might have qualified him as being from any number of perpetually discontent extra-European groups. Perhaps a mix of Italian and Ashkhanism?

That companion sitting next to him being a ‘graybeard‘ more typically rabbinical. The vibes that this character had been know for in terms of this locality over the recent past being aloof and quick to dismiss any and all others that might overwhelm the basic fact of his silent but domineering presence. Something not unfamiliar to those who had grown up around third generation communities of Jews long ago transmuted from the Pale of old Poland. Their halcyon characteristic being a chameleon-like ability to dart in and out of the easy cloak of White American Middle Class to that persistent misunderstood pogrom victimized identity of Orthodox Jewry. The transformation almost instantaneous sometimes as it suits purposes of the moment. A neutral calm masking that bristling sense of ever fractious impulse to seek out ultimate retribution upon the assumed identity. An eye for an eye! And then some! This well-implanted rational of alternatively fostering mischief through customary deceit and then enacting the perpetration eternal violent vengeance always justified in their minds for the destruction of these ever holy second temple. Something more akin to a real estate claim than any real issue of religious fact. The most immediate visual evidence apparent in that characteristic lean hungry meanness ingrained about the eyes categorized as an expression of perpetual discontent. One that simply suggests an ingrained very genetic form of lifelong cynicism. A classical Cassius from the ilk of a Shakespearian play. Or perhaps an Iago?

On and on, the fat man’s un-humorous gibberish paging through lexicons of role reversal’s of white scapegoats painted as straw men and polite European society as the source of the worst of all evils. A further irony arriving a little later in the guise of a winsome young maiden who sporting a thick volume Christian community bible settles down a safe distance away at a side table to study text that might be considered the anti-venom of the diatribe of the vociferous others. Her encampment quiet and undisclosed yet potentially in danger of summoning the Judas Maccabeus in the less than dynamic duo continuously exhibiting their unending tiresome ‘schtick‘ at the far end. A type of patterned response that glorifies massacre of any rival. That long sad road of history of the victor where one group inevitably displaces another after fierce mortal bloody struggles as a matter of human nature by default . One’s own underlying instinct to seek out the safety within one’s own kind, a natural reflex and very rationally reasonable impulse fostering a long term ability to survive. Something now cast a “Politically Incorrect” for access to the European majority population of the nation for Culturally Marxist doctrinaire reasons. The big fat ‘Italian‘ poseur continuing without missing a syllable ‘sans souffle‘ to his small audience of listeners undaunted droning a well-rehearsed morning monologue of supposed self-depreciation in the guise of his diametric opposite. This safe harbor of his didactic ‘pirate’s den‘ prepping more biting comments in order to sail out to raid the ears of the passing commerce of indifferent suburban travelers timidly plying the morning trade of coffee and sweet roll. This current segment on his bandstand rolling the indigestible stone of the Germanic in the tireless guise as NAZI. That faceless white haze of those customers sharing similar heritage keeping their heads down in the public climate self-shaming. The tyrannical Marxist golden rule of “Diversity IS strength!” screaming silently forth as it from stadium loudspeakers. Some sickly white within this ebb and flow eager to ‘rat’ one of their own out in a brief show of public repudiation cast at anyone near fitting the visual description of Politically Correct condemned, “White Patriarchal Culture“.

“Who then? . . .“, might some outward observer ask, “. . .  is able to have any respect for those who would shun their own race?”

EPILOGUE: I thought that I lived in a golden age as I grew to maturity yet I could not find lasting pleasure in what seemed superficially so. It eventually became clear that this long lasting impression was simply one of a false Utopia. The unwanted facts pulled over my eyes covering my ears laying claim to my consciousness with lies, lies and more lies daily distributed. Each revealing an ever clearer the knowledge that my time was the time of twilight. My own kingdom becoming hollow and defaulting to an illusion that seems to reign over all those other lesser known unacknowledged truths. Ones that claim to lay open a path to plain sighted’ness of an inequity that has for all time caused death and destruction of my kind since before I was born. I can no longer offer any provable facts to counter the supposed reams of evidential documents amassed by my detractors. Ones who have memorized their parts in reciting heresy as concrete fact repetitively and too well. Nor certainly play their game any longer! The time for fielding this empty rhetoric is over!

I am empty. Bled dry. I feel empty and find myself living amidst an empty place. This may not be what many others currently experience? So I don’t expect many others to understand even the smallest part of this angst. Nor would they want to. Yet the emotional waste of this world surrounding giving one little hope, if any, for a future. Human waste in terms of a way of taking on a different dimension of ultimate disgust. One that appeals to the extremes. But offers no lasting promise beyond the moment. Self annihilation. Do I sit here and wait?

Dunkirk, In So Many Ways

I went to see Christopher Nolan’s “Dunkirk” yesterday. Not because I was personally interested to do so. But because my last remaining relatives expressed an interest of seeing it. We as the children of those that were part of that struggle that the media at large has incessantly drilled in our heads was the greatest. World War Two. The ‘greatest‘ as in Mohammed Ali who initially proclaimed himself so, unlike my father, and because he suited the times as a spokesman of the prevailing agenda of normalizing human society was built by the media into a legend. What did Ali do? He beat people up and made an obscene amount of money doing it while strutting around trumpeting his own greatness. Again, something my father who served in the Marines landing on Okinawa at barely eighteen years old fighting to stay alive for the next four months during the most viscous fight of World War Two. I never heard him call himself the ‘greatest’ on that account?

“Dunkirk“, the big budget blockbuster movie, that its producers and investor are hoping it will be, is actively being compared to what they and their fellow industry pundits have deified as the ‘greatest’ war movie of all time, “Saving Private Ryan.” At face view, the benchmark does share a similar setting for what is always mentioned in its own hype as the most talked about. The two movies begin by recounting as story of a beach. And against the backdrop of that setting, they both share another facet that seems key to their movie industry admirers of being about the senseless slaughter of young white post adolescent men of European descent. Given the incessantly fractious nature of the times that the larger ‘WE’ live in, this is something that I personally was not desirous of seeing. Not before the viewing, nor certainly in hindsight after. In fact, having once been an excessively voracious movies goer who has turned that corner over the past decade and a half of falling out of love with Hollywood’s obsessive penchant for interweaving social justice themes within what they now term as ‘franchise‘ films. In this penchant, all the major studios have outweighed their welcome and my active viewing participation.

Christopher Nolan has been provided with the crown by both hacks and movie critics as the current reigning challenger for the ‘greatest‘ contemporary filmmaker around. His predecessor in this position among several others being Steven Spielberg who gained a similar status some decades previous directing a fanciful politically propagandized big budget film, “Schindler’s List“, once again about people being killed off. In this case, by the estimation of some, the killing of the spirit of white Europeans with the aura of guilt for incidents that to some opinions were willfully misinterpreted as being fact when in point of fact it turned out that they were not. In another sense, Spielberg had graduated to his position based upon his ability to manipulate generations of mass audiences to believe something that at face value had validity. But in the underlying inference that the movie touted as a whole had nothing to do with history but more to do with brainwashing the opinions within people’s minds. Following this tact along in a larger sense over the long haul of the history of movie industry, any director that can foster a specific lasting sentiment within the minds of an enter generation is the ‘greatest’ director of his time. And depending of course on how this influence changes the thinking of a nation, and perhaps the entire world, of all time.

Is it any wonder to find out that the first Academy Award Oscar for best picture was given to a big budget silent era production about young white men being transfixed by the horrors of loss suffered in World War One? Or that the award for best actor was given to a pre-eminent German actor of that era for his portrayal of a Russian general of a deposed white society who is ultimately humbled and crushed by his ultimate fate of being cast as a Hollywood extra reliving his greatest failure? All these films and directors, thus far mentioned, examples of the heralding of failure of the values and impetus of Western European civilization in some way. All completely different in fact to what was for its time in the post World War Two era of nineteen-sixty two, and equally grueling portrayal of young men suffering and dying. The major blockbuster big budget film that was in fact a collaboration of the directorial talent of six different well-seasoned Hollywood directors of the time. This film being set on Normandy beaches some thirty four years earlier than “Saving Private Ryan” yet equally pervasive in its on viewing generations, “The Longest Day.” The major difference being that this film celebrated the bravery and sacrifice of white Europeans not their defeat.

In light of this trend consider that the underlying messaging that one is strongly left with after viewing “Dunkirk” is one of being a defeated empire. Yet not so much so that one’s sacrifice and effort to survive goes unappreciated. The entire length of one hundred and six minutes of cinematic narrative cast not accidentally in the format of a ‘first person shooter‘ computer games point of view. The audience follows along in the guise of several avatars going through the perils of the immediate landscape. No judgment is offered in the cinematic outlay of action that suggests good or bad or even evil. It is completely ‘moral relative’. The major emotions summoned being those of intervening scenarios of horror juxtapose with an aficionado’s viewpoint of the inside terrain and implements of that historical time and incident. Any audience empathy wasted upon a series of characters that are summarily introduced and then unexpectedly killed off or deposed into the anonymity of the larger throng of those summarily ‘rescued’. Their historical adversary never shown or even really identified beyond the term, “enemy” as if everyone can fill in the blanks without he official politically correct contemporary agreed upon conclusions as to, “who“, “what“, “why“, and given the failure of our educational establishment maybe even, “where?” Consider that the equivalent corollary of our very defective modern journalism does exactly the same in ceding their responsibility through daily artful innuendoes where the reader is also expected by the journalist to answer these same questions by referring to socially sanitized online texts. The effect of the experience of this epic event being more important than any insight that can be intellectually assayed!

If this film was more in line with the current canon of comic book corporation franchise film production then “Dunkirk” might be deemed in a similar manner a historical ‘thrill ride’ by the well paid cheerleaders once know as critics. For those who, after seeing same, are left with the film’s final very esoteric image of a burning ‘bird‘ that all too clearly suggests an Illuminati phoenix in the initial stages of total meltdown, it is evidently clear that the intent of the film is to convince audiences that the legacy of that era is at a final end. Moreover those populations that treat upon that sense of ‘greatness‘ have like the films biggest name star destroyed their own heroic legacy and now are to be remanded to an uncertain fate at the hands of a shadowy hostile enemy for all his trouble. Hollywood as a vehicle to the governing mercantile powers that provide the context of our daily lives telling us is essence that any sense of elf identity outside its prevail is in the words of the current neocon mayor of the safe sanctuary of the ‘murder paradise’ of Chicago, “Dead, dead, dead!“

The True Fate Of The Failed Cynic

Children form bonds that though broken quickly by family circumstance remain fixed in the mind for a lifetime. The result of a misaligned friendship gone awry and left unsatisfied leaving an inner longing seeking completion throughout the rest of a lifetime. This is the metaphorical boulder before the tomb of waking consciousness that for most is the major impediment of one’s continued existence to the soul traveling forth. To be diminished early at the start of one’s earthly by one’s peers is to be cast in an unfamiliar metal far and apart from the consensus of humanity. Remaining ever mindful of how a trap is always waiting to ensnare one making one align one’s self with the mentality of the predator and not the prey. Castles are built and moats around them dug with the mentality of an extended lifelong siege. Those rare times when a foray into the world of one’s fellows is mounted fewer and fewer as the years wear on. One finds at the end of life a paucity of mortal experience come of diet of dry bread and unrealized dreams. The accumulation of years finding a building sense of unrelieved animal hunger building in one’s metaphorical guts. The wolf within grows into a world wise monster seeking other victims to despoil. Though of course the conscious mind interprets this impulse as sharing the light of hard won experience.

Such a dour description becomes anathema to most others as the average person has been encouraged to continue in the spirit of popular myths that were never intended to be realized. The illusion of community coming together for a common good. The notion of a unique special person that remains untarnished in the regard of one’s heart above all others. The larger contingent lives in the fishbowl of the trends of the most current era. Subject to the penalty of abandonment or exile if they indulge in the transgressions of too enthusiastic a sense of individuality. No one is allowed to wander away from the herd at the penalty of becoming a stranger. Someone to be watched with grave suspicion as a potential social irritant or spy with undisclosed hostile intent. Perhaps those cast away into this wilderness of self are most validly potentially dangerous in the sense of their simple presence alone fostering doubt in others. Worse yet if they confound the strict rules of the game! So many re-congealed ancient myths of Gilgamesh are explained anew with the same old cause of the affront of hubris. Taking the imaginary Gods and goddesses as fanciful tales and daring to suggest that they in truth do not exist. This becomes the unforgivable heresy!

The most major mistake is for an outcast such as this to imagine a path back into the fold. This being the grandest illusion of any one harbors in the foolishness of the back of their mind’s intent. Heroes are singular beggars that only by the accident of circumstance are cast back as exemplary personages to be admired by the crowd. But only in principle in the waking dreamworld of expectation and not in the possibility of an actual promise fulfilled. Thus their example serves the collective of humanity like wheels and gibbets outside the city gates. Or cages strung high over stone saints on tall cathedral steeples. These miscreants only fit to be seen from afar in their despair and not be accorded empathy. Marble tombs and monument being the fittest habitation for the most exceptional among them. Ignominy serving as perpetual shelter for the woeful tale remaining untold for the rest. The unspoken fate of those who go astray a warning to all others not to entertain any possibility that might see them equally transgress. This is not considered victimhood. There is no sense of noble martyrdom. Just an emptiness that one wears like a badge upon the breast. A mark upon one’s arm.

So. Society demands that one wear a mask. Something uniform and easily recognizable as ‘friend’. And like a pair of boots that are too small to begin with we must stuff our feet within them each day and not hobble about but act as if we do not feel the pain. And hope each day anew for another pair perhaps of sandals mentally imagining the freedom that they would afford. Yet realize that such things are not for us. The frustration of continued repression directed at the most easily available ‘other’ as scapegoat. Those of a divergent path actively demonstrating their deviance subject to attack. The raging animal of the mentality of the dangerous vindictive animal known as the crowd showing no mercy only glee at the inflicting of penalties based upon supposition that another transgressor needing to fall beneath the hammer of universal justice. The worst of all fallacies! That a collective code can administer a useful uniform pattern to cookie cut humanity without exception. The unspecified irony being that the only fit administrators of such extreme forms of dries are themselves outcasts. An elite class apart that pretends the special status of omniscience and congress with the mythical powers of the known universe. These are those others invisible to the common folk that scatter about the wheels and gears of society feasting on the grease like scrambling cockroaches ever in fear of full illumination.

Before this the cynic sits between the folly of the species and the chaos of nature knowing from raw experiences of an unsatisfied life that it will not get any better. Aware that no salvation exists beyond one’s own will to endure despite at any cost. A long Winter of the soul and heart before one’s favorite salt lick. How utterly unbearable a proposition for all the rest who much take their daily dosage of state implemented fantasy to renew their unrealizable dreams as fact and not fiction lest they lose their way and join these outcasts in the Hell of empty reality. If one should see a statue in a city park one will find that it is the most solitary of objects. It’s presence never bringing the public any sense of awe or regard but derision or scorn. It is shadow over society to advise that the penalty for actually being exceptional among one’s own kind will inevitably lead to this sort of fate. It is always better to walk past all such beings as if they do not exist at all!

Roy’s Cinematic Dilemma

Roy could see it coming from miles away. All his life it was the same? Sitting in a movie theater by himself he felt normal. Once he stepped out intuit he light of day he was lost. It didn’t matter what the movie was a bout or the stars that were in it. Of course, like anyone else, he had his favorites. The world outside of that gave him palpitations. He could feel his heart pumping through his ears. The sheets would be wet from sweat each morning. No matter what he tried he was always back on the same old merry go round. He couldn’t hold down a job. Sooner of later he would get laid off. Not because he was a slacker! But perhaps, he took it so damn seriously enough that he would piss off his fellow coworkers because they didn’t. And that threw them off their game. But once he got back to the shack and shoved a VHS or DVD into the slot he relaxed upon one of this overstuffed threadbare ‘Barqa-loungers’ he was back in a pleasant limbo of another person’s life and not his own. Of course, that person did not exist. It was a very expensive patch of the collective minds and efforts of scores if not hundreds of others. It was always a strange mental calculation to add up the number of movies he had and multiply them by an average cost that was taken from sources that chronicled their making. If one took the number of films that a given production entity handled per year and multiplied that further against the result already arrived at then you might get an idea of what these characters were worth individually speaking. A useless mental calculation to be sure.

It had of late come down to a point of desperation as Roy’s peculiarities had been getting the better of him. Though he had never allowed himself to go so far as adopting the style and dress of any of the current movie avatars that came and went each half decade he would ten to adopt their scripted mindsets. It might be said this made Roy in line with a favored technique of getting into character. But society did not look favorably upon those who reached too far into the collective fictional narrative other that did not truly exist. The average employer wanted workers that were mentally uneventful, slow and steady whose greatest aspirations in life was to show up on time and work blissfully towards that day at the end of a week when they would gratefully received their paycheck taxes deducted. Those were the only waking dreams allowed by the current culture. All others were shown to the exit doors. That shared manifest destiny of the cataclysmic antihero might work on the page but stayed perpetually unemployed. The unintended consequence of this condition being that any lasting relationship with women was removed from possibility. The modern female too independent in her needs unlike the railroad track prone maidens of a century or more past. A solid home powered by a good steady paycheck was all the romance that most women sought though some considered that though all romance was dead in the current era it was no fault of their own. A fit male for breeding their fondest desires should come pre-equipped in both stamina to endure the most tedious of daily regimens and them return home reliably at the prescribed hour with mouthing more than the needs of his spouse predominately filling his universe. To Roy’s current mental mindset, another futile mental calculation.

The daily procedure of life degenerated into one where at a certain point the imagination of Hollywood having gone brain dead for the possibility of producing anything particularly novel that hadn’t been serialized in some was too many times previous had come to an effective halt. The invigorating feeling of stumbling back out into the light of day of old where one was fresh with plot heavy ideas posed in the corollary of the theme of the particular afternoon matinee needed no further mental energy. Too many of the same gambits explored by the big flickering of movie screen illumination. Where was the former bond of vision that he in the audience had once shared without he director in figuring out the novel plot line and being truly amazed or sometimes alternately disturbed by it stultifying implications? Now the cinema was merely a steady heartbeat of explosions on demand anchored betwixt hackneyed dialogue and a reliable twist int he end where the nemesis was reliably scheduled to by some incomprehensible means return back essentially unscathed bearing an increased amount of enmity for a go at round two of essentially the exact same thing. Imagine if in could bearing children that were cookie cutter copies of the first that you have born and raised but differentiated only by suspiciously similar names?

The rhythm of life for most was conducted by amazingly simple standards of routine behavior. There really wasn’t much complexity when one eliminated the inner workings of the assigned tasks each portion of society fell into. Each operated by he demands of inter connectivity to produce a complete organism of a cellular composition that heeded only the demands of the greater collective. Resources were doled out accordingly to a pyramid system in which those who took an active role keeping surveillance over their fellows in terms of monitoring the constancy of behavior and weeding out the deviants was considered of prime importance to keep the great worm of society inching forward rather thank stalling. The macrocosm of same mirroring any given particular example of the species that was in essence descended from successive direct parentage of a similar species over the eons under the phylum of plumbing dependent. The human body a maze of interconnecting pipes and open spaces where the balance of hydraulics reigns supreme. Any tampering with flow leading to a stoppage or inequality of expected pressure having to be resolved. Thus the ‘bread and circuses’ management of social diversion being key to the husbandry of the species. Where the Romans might have solved a problem on terms of the vitality of their empire by providing unwanted captives to die in the arena as a public spectacle. The modern era provided perpetual reliable boredom as an element of fostering both the flow of goods and the dumbing down of the aspirations of the viewer. By the sixth of seventh decades of existence given the perpetual burden of ennui, most were ready to fall away like dead leaves to make way for their children’s children to take up the dully flicking torch of meaningless existence. Given this reality, Roy felt that it was not unreasonable for him to demand a certain base level of entertainment on the fringes. The truth was that you could only bore everybody so far without occasionally adding a little spice to the same old stew.

The dark halls of public amphitheaters suited the nature of a personalized solitary enjoyment of common cultural celebration of the same old same old without endangering the whole with mutual contact. Isolation was after all the best way to hobble and possibility of deviating from the main game plan. So Roy felt as if he was being carried along in a great river of others that like the current of water of a great tributary was rapidly being him towards the inevitability of the falls. He had to wonder to himself how many others like himself in these auditoriums were as fully aware of this fact as he was. The big budget spectaculars were assessed with care based upon the likelihood of their trailers being too suspiciously as a blatant repeat of the same old well worn franchise waypoints of story and plot. Occasionally one might be surprised but the apogee of the reigning superstar too often leaked the fact of the ingrained repetitiveness to be warily avoided. Even the occasional foreign epic that could sneak through the tight network of distribution too often turned out to be a veiled variety of the expected pattern. It was inevitable that the only choice that this discriminating movie viewer had control over was the repetitive recitation of the lines of favored characters that were too often renewed again, and again and again. Roy sensed his psyche was unwinding slowly losing power like a windup toy. There was only this society to contend with or its total absence. Something that could not implicitly be shared with others because of course everyone had been crafted into the same state of hive-like mind. A consciousness that could only be escaped by the extreme poles of death or complete and total chaos. Not much of a choice feeling ones ever chained to that same old set in the twilight of the cave wall.

 

Licking God’s Hairy Asshole?

It seems so easy to not comprehend what is so obvious. The world as a whole is not a whole world at all. The glue that binds it is a matter of technical necessity. Survival is a matter of defeating overpopulation of social goods that take one away from their direct creation by making all interdependent and vulnerable to shortages. My exploits of the night stay hidden from me upon awakening. A dual dialogue that disappears conveniently from the mind’s access. Yet it’s presence remains. What seemed normal now is judged completely the otherwise. The sign of the present times taking it all in hand to re-spinning the spinner. I saw the clouds in their ether.

What a shock to find the depository of all one’s keepsakes reduced by unknown hands into a small stack of clear plastic containers housing a paltry amount of nothing in the stall of a leaky bathroom. This sort of mental event might shock one to believe that their own self definition has been grievously injured? Significant objects of status being important in many eyes as to the proposed eventual outcome of someone’s life. What a laughable irony that Dumas has his shadowy hero and Count of a nonexistent but an obscenely well-funded empire obsess and chase after one Mercedes? Can there be such accidents is the marketing of products leavened for public dispensation at premium prices? How easy it is to fall into a realm of narrowly posed obsessions? Does the society resemble you? Are your animal, tribal needs met in a healthy sense of positive inclusion and respect for your heartfelt opinion? Are you considered an irritant or an embarrassment by others within that framework no matter how you try to fit in? So therefore you mentally set yourself up as your own micro-version based upon the worst that society offers you and become critical of others to the point of cynical extremes?

The theater is always exhilarating from the fulcrum from viewpoint of the stage. To be accepted by an audience is always a heady experience. To challenge that same audience is always a dangerous proposition. But those who wish to remain in that sort of venue are ever challenged with that dilemma each night that they perform. That dual species of man and woman is enjoined to congeal itself upon an agreement of a singular viewpoint of perception of self. Something useful to the next industrial generation threatened of a proliferation of all manner of robots to replace and monitor the human species. Just to phrase this thought alone becomes a sort of insane anti-human rhetoric?

The isolation experienced in the public sense a results from the evolution of a social organism that invites one to peek out of their own cubbyhole and then buries them alive with the notion of self. One continues to float upon a Sargasso Sea of mixed up bottle cap notions whose origins and definitions defy logic or grace. The Capitalist paradise of the Socialist worker’s state of perpetual disarmament. A fully monitored prison of mental outlook for those who prefer to believe in globes and distant stars to wish upon, rather than eternally linear distances across an infinitely flattened plane. Pick your poison? The fantasy of ‘down to earth’ gritty reality? Or moonbeams and burning hulks aflame off the planets of Sirius Major? It is faux drama either way! Why are age and caste so damn important as the only thing worth living for? Or, is allowed in the moment?

A world of mobile machinations lived out in cart-bound lanes of slow traffic. Going to and fro to exercise one’s expertise in fulfilling otherwise mundane tasks cannot equate to animal survival. The current era seems like Chapter II of the previous Weimar era where the right response leads to becoming yet another NAZI hellbent upon one’s own survival. One that eventually leads to a final brave but unsung moment in the embrace of final extinction in the most current sense of an expected Gotterdammerung! A boy goes from past to present securing his place in the same old tired cycle. But all to what glorious and eventual conclusive end?

Summer warmth on a sidewalk before the tar beach of a parking lot. Back and forth, incessantly! The local humanity take up their daily habitual patterns of another day. I have only these paltry insubstantial wares to offer from my own precarious vantage point. Who is the ‘Eternal Jew’, now? Susceptible to death by sunburn of here-to-fore common knowledge unrevealed hidden truths.

When Caligula Becomes Big Brother

In this culture little white boys cry while little girls don’t. It is a shock to see this happen. But then is exposes something unexpected. A truth to the light of day. Little boys are put in an impossible position of not being able to express themselves as males where in a feminized world little girls have no restrictions. It has become a bygone appreciation in this culture to celebrate masculinity as an inherent virtue. In fact it has been demonized. Violence is accepted as a form of ethnic self-expression for both sexes. But is considered taboo for the most excluded segment of anyone of white Aryan Christian European heritage. The dogma taught being that they are most responsible for all the social ills of the current world. The actual historical truth suppressed being the exact opposite. Western society allowing itself to be overwhelmed by the fact of an internal cultural killer virus superficially referred to at ground level as organized Judaism. The cloistered fact of same violating the convenient conception of labels suggesting old rivals so much as covert alliances of several ‘desert based’ religious philosophies that stretch back literal eons.  The serum distorting the natural inclinations of male and female in terms of producing healthy intellectual savvy healthy generations being amorphously termed as Liberalism or Political Correctness. Essentially crafty programs that have been carefully devised to program the host population from cradle to grave into self-destructive mindsets and self-defeating actions. The equivalent of gaining poser over the most important and influential centers of control over society and dissolving same much in the manner that an organism is devoured slowing being bundled up in a web by an arachnid. Toxic notions bombarding the culture incessantly through the destruction of the minds of the young with insidious half-truths that invert the perspectives in a manner characterized by authors like George (Blair) Orwell. We of the most sullied demographic are in a war for out own survival with people that nestle too comfortably among us that seek out annihilation.

The knee jerk reaction is too call this absurd of course. Even to suggest such a theory in current society being termed unacceptable. That in itself is the most telling clue. If you wish to find out an inescapable truth then start with the actions of those who anyone is not allowed to question as to their culpability for any untoward action. The penalty that the questioner faces of course is an instant form of societal enforced exile. The reason for the fear of same being so prevalent in European heritage whites being that the sledge hammer of the popular Liberal dominated media constantly fashions scenarios that offer only total destruction through negative branding of any personage that does so. Like any other long lost empire of old gone senile through its own decadence the United States has submitted itself to its own destruction by falling prey to those who would subvert it through guile. At one time without he help of mass technology literally building a false narrative upon a well-crafted a false persona taken from a time of two totally unnecessary world wars that only served to destroy the best elements of Western culture. Then replacing them with moral equivalencies that only serve to hasten a final and complete genocide of anything ‘white’. The most absurd part of this unthinkable crime being that the key element being the enfranchisement of dogmatically infertile ‘white’ females as the most dominate gatekeepers encouraged by false notions of social victimization. The European part of the species doomed to extinction because what was once termed as ‘the weaker sex’ has become its own worst enemy. Whites are caught in a mile of commercially funded media that is total toxic garbage. They send their children to schools that discard traditional topics promoting functionally self-survival and replace them with this media harangue that elevates the lowest common denominators of society as a model of exemplary behavior.

This is by no stretch of the imagination an accidental situation some of unintended consequences as one might inadvertently mix two substances unadvisedly together to create a poison. Take any given segment of key element of this society in Western countries and find that it has at best been sublimated to the goals of an organized sect that uses the reigning international corporate hegemony as an infallible lever. All one has to do is examine the system of finance that allows this segment to make their wealth out of thin air from the ever increasing sweat of all portions of society that are made to work ever harder to get ever less. A system where the governments of every country on earth are connected by a single system of commerce based upon unsecured debt. The lender merely creating a piece of paper called a contract where the debtor promises to pay future wages in order to get credit from the company store. The role of same eventually becoming a small ruling elite that keep and iron grip on the common people through a government that enforces this cooperate hegemony without exception passing wealth upward and implementing further duress upon the have nots to squeeze them even more. All the while indoctrinating them with a totally inverted viewpoint of the would where they are led to believe that those of their own that resist this tyranny are to blame for it. The eventual goal of this world system being to completely segment all cultures and make them slaves through an interdependence that defiles their national and cultural independence. One group ever encouraged to be spiteful and envious of the other during an interim period as they destroy their own cultures through social and physical attrition. Not just a destruction of the European segment but eventually of every other segment into an ever willing population of domesticated sheep having no defining rebellious traits that would interfere with their own planned use and eventual destruction. Take the analogy of Orwell’s world and put Caligula at the helm and find the perfect analogy for the world of tomorrow if it is allowed to continue as ti currently seems to be.

Nice Guys No Longer Wanted!

Nothing. No motivation to speak of. The day was nearing the expected transition. Perhaps the hundred millionth one that he had failed to notice? So much much that was new to him as his eyes traced the fleeting direct illumination of the Sun. The clouds passing slowly like derelict prison hulks spewing fractals of cotton candy. The light streaming now like a puncture wound through rays of evening mist. Magnificence blocking the shadows deepening quickly bringing on drama to the otherwise mundane. He held out his hand extending a forefinger to trace the path of the rapidly departing Sun, its chariot galloping West. Struck like an aging toddler reborn back to the previous wonders of childhood yet again.

A solitary soul in a land of vague familiarity. So many hostile stares of young strangers taken aback. “Am I still here?“, he silently choked out in awe of their sour expressions. “Why haven’t you hurried up and got down to the business of dying?“, their malicious glares all seemed to say in an impatient unison. Same places remaining. But not how they had formerly had been. The narrative an accurate voice of family re-pagination. Inner peace disturbed by an unwarranted intrusion of the same old crowd of the impatient. “The world is no longer mine?” Something no longer of my own creation. Something no longer my fault. At least I am not living still in the bloom of accomplishments of a faraway long ago precocious youth. The crack int he world of their self-ascribed fantasy is what angers these self-important immortals. Nothing is more motivating than the fiction of eternal perfection remodeled to reveal a reality of unstoppable chaos! When abandoned by electricity the facts of one’s lack to compensate are too overwhelming to bear.

Soap opera bitches proclaiming, “The third successive decade of endless self-empowerment!” Resonating freely upon all the misplaced holiday’s TV network’s across the land. Is it possible to imagine a real friendship with a female in the current era? Better she run off with my assets as is now the custom. The current era won’t tolerate it. No overt fraternization! Their message running out of accompanying ‘bread and circuses’ to sell it before the impending collapse of society becomes too painfully imminent. All that is planned to be left for the male of the species is to joust imaginary dragons on his X-Box. And for all the women to have all the cartoon men of their dreams to mercilessly berate but still find all of them magically submitting themselves to even more abuse. The parental duty of organized defecation. Essentially the scripted version of the genocide of the modern European. Once the most favored demographic holding the most popularized products un-sellable. Now fools with beanies, the brims turned backwards. All the once great heroes now gone waiting for their few admirers to die off.

Were everything replaced with something absolutely brand new, the absence of the old equivalents still weigh one down. Museums spouting ‘heritage’ now simply categorical homages to older forms of consumerism and consumption. Whenever suddenly ‘over-exposed‘, women grabbing the own breasts not out of propriety but in embarrassment of fostering disappointment. Modern imagery no longer prone to accidents. And the possibility of being privy to creativity because of same gone forever. The most perfect of women incapable of procreation like any other damned long extinct species. There should be a billboard on every street corner, “FUCK UTOPIA!” The last thing in this universe a man needs is a, “Strong Independent Woman!” No more than his opposite needs those same dubious qualities from him. Those kings and queens of long lost empires that never existed outside the fancy of a terminally perverted mind. “Nice guys No Longer Wanted!” Just an inexhaustible universe of lamentable evil pricks that no ones care one way or another if they die.