Wednesday, November 20, 2013

oh. see? 'ell.

GeeGee, you're doing a bangup job as The Tarz.  Got most everyone fooled.

Shit, you might even get to fuck Jack Back Rack.  Maybe the HOLYFUCK! boys can film it and make a kickstarter project of releasing the amaporn?


UPDATE Thursday November 21!

I've been informed, through a comment that didn't meet my literacy/humor standards for publication, that the BlogTrust© is funneled through this guy, who forgot to turn off his MacAirPowerBookStylemasterFashionista's default-on webcam:

EWWWWW!  Heteros having sex?  EWWWWW!  Filthy breeders!

It's a shame he wasn't wearing a GoPro at the same time.  You mindless snark vectors might have been able to see what Cleverboy® was looking at.  But since we're clued into and tracking his browsing habits, we already know.  He clicked a link that promised "hot twinks" and what came up was a POV video shot by a guy getting cowgirl from a scorcher who was eating a Hostess Twinkie while riding, and smearing the Twinkie filling all over her nipples.

In case the image doesn't sufficiently explain Cleverboy®'s response:


How do male feminist bloggers and male feminist public intellectuals spell relief?

We wanted to know, so we ventured out into the world and asked this of several notable XY-diploid feminists who are ashamed to have to urinate through a rape weapon.

Our first stop was the heroic, but now relatively silent blogger who has done and seen it all.  From a pseudo-challenged childhood to a college scholarship to managing trillion-dollar funds to being a rock god worshiped by Jimi Hendrix's ghost to blogging with smug self-satisfaction about how the Koch Bros are responsible for The Progressive Message not getting the support and accolades it well deserves, this cat has truly been everyone and done everything.

He is tough enough to have been approached by the Bandidos, Mongols and Hells Angels when his head-kicking exploits were spread throughout the land, but male feminist enough to have rejected those enticements on the basis of the 1%ers not allowing women in positions of power.

He is accomplished as a mimic, as a parrot, and as a mime -- and as his many written products will have shown, he is quite expert at plagiarism (known in the 21st C as "cut-and-paste" e-journalism) and managing a haughty air of professorial expertise while possessing no real substantive knowledge.  His exploits have provided source ideas for David Mamet's various scripts and screenplays.

He is the one and only Jack Crow.

We asked our good friend (read: e-friend, as shown by The Kind, which is demonstrated by blogroll reciprocity in the Universe of Male Feminist Blogging) to explain to us just exactly how he spells relief.  We were expecting to hear him admit to decades of alcoholism, years of cyclothymic binging on meth and crack cocaine, and an unrelenting urge to practice what are collectively known as confidence tricks.  These are the steam-venting behaviors already known to his global fanbase, who understandably tolerate such addictive patterns because in their hero-worshiping, fan-supplicating perspective, addictions prove a sensitivity well beyond the average human capacity.

But instead of the litany of self-destruction, we heard him offer this simple statement:
I take confidence and solace in reading and listening to the various rhetorical and intellectual products of Hugo Schwyzer.


Being the knuckle-dragging simpletons we are, the reference to Hugo Schwyzer made us draw a blank.  So we did a bit of digging, and came away very impressed.

Only a truly elevated mind would be able to grasp the workmanlike output of Schwyzer during his peak years.   This probably explains why the reference to Schwyzer had us staring blankfaced and slackjawed into the vague haze of human ignorance.


At the apex of his powers, Schwyzer -- actually, we should call him "Professor Schwyzer," given his esteem among academics and respect shown by fellow faculty members and past students -- was the foremost proponent of feminist male thought and theory in North America. 

He was an internet colossus, calmly striding the landscape of misogyny, righting the wrongs of patriarchal privilege, and exposing every single man's (save his own) tendency to rape, belittle, bludgeon, harass and oppress females.  He calmly and authoritatively lectured any gainsayer on the latent (but just barely) rape fantasies held tenuously in abeyance.  He delivered scathing snark toward those men who dared to question the ethics and morality of abortion-on-demand.

He was an incredible hero, with a well-justified swagger and a richly earned aura of bravado.

He was, in short, the man every misandry-ridden woman wishes all men would become.

Naturally, you want to know why I am using the past tense here.  For you know with great confidence that Hugo Schwyzer is not dead.  He yet lives.  And as our honoree would remind us, he was quite inspirational when at his peak.


Early on, it was obvious to a narrow sector of humanity* that Schwyzer, and the many men who worshiped and/or emulated him, were con artists who were simply trying to get laid.  Their schtick was to listen to women's complaints about male behavior, and then pretend to be stridently against such behavior, even going so far as to browbeat and berate and, in Schwyzer's case, academically lecture other men on the terrifying patriarchy and its pattern of rape, violence and abuse.** 

However, to its expanding fan base and clique of adherents, this new field of Men Hating Men for Their Maleness was proof that society truly is progressing, and that we're in a new era of enlightenment.

(Excepting, of course, those thuggish reactionaries in the Pee Tarty, who remind us evermore that Male Privilege is a constant social embarrassment.)


Unfortunately, Professor Schwyzer was having a hard time keeping his Rape Tool contained within his under- and outer-garments.

And even worse, he dared to offer, and occasionally even USE, this Rape Tool to engage in the patriarchally oppressive act known as heterosexual intercourse.***

When the many fans, followers and worshipers of Professor Schwyzer learned that he'd actually engaged in heterosexual intercourse, the jig was up.  The fiddler wasn't playing a reel any more.  The tune switched to a solemn, mournful dirge.

You can read about the collapse of the good Professor's multi-story lecture dais and the tarnishing of his halo here.  


Now that we've learned the ...cough cough... backstory that sets the stage for our honoree's quoted means of finding relief, we should return to that topic.

Naturally this guy would be our man Crow's source of solace.

Keep knockin' 'em outta the park, Jackie!


* Those knuckledragging "skeptics," like Yrs Trly, who never were swayed by the Male Feminist con job.

** Lest we forget, a lesser beacon of truthiness on this topic was the serious thinker who calls himself PZ Myers.

*** Ass-fucking another man would have been okay, however.

Tuesday, November 19, 2013


(as Doug Tracht would have it, anyway)

The amusement available to anyone seeking copycat dipshits who can't do satire to save their own pencil-thin necks?


Why, just this morning I found a veritable handful of humerous [sic] new HOLYFUCK! entries at Pop Me* Before I Grope Again, and at its newest cousin underwritten by the same failed humorist(s) who thinks him(them)self(ves) possessed of insightful genius, The Prance/Id Moneyfap.

They sure have me fooled!  Why, I nearly thought they were totally distinct entities with entirely different views.  And not once HOLYFUCK! did I ever consider they are Hensonian Muppets with the same Jim-hand up their respective arseholes.

Did you know that if you think your precious graduate humanities degree(s) makes you superior, you can create numerous blogs where you piss away your day snarking and condescending while lacking any real indicia of enlightenment, superior insight, or any other talisman of holding an elevated position from which you look down on any part of humanity?

Indeed we are/I am pleased with ourselves/myself.

No longer pleased with itself for laughing at the centrism of the National Party Dedicated to Worshiping Equus africanus asinus, the collective brainiac-approved polymorphic entity authoring the ganging-up-while-pretending-at-unrelation clique of Student Council representatives and executives Blog Trust© has begun trolling a very narrow audience of one, and congratulating itself mightily for it.

As they say in church halls and community centers everywhere,


We here at the center of the bullseye at which the Blog Trust© has aimed its rusty iron stand-up sighting array

Check out the knurling on this puppy! 

are prepared to offer our sincerest congratulations for the Trust's ability to conjure new nameplates for the various pretend-commenters found in the comment sections at each entity held by the Blog Trust

Nice work, fella.

Talk about a bored person who is little more than a pimple on the internet's tuchus.  Sheesh.

Triumph of fancy diplomas going underused, leading to acting out** -- as they call it in the hallowed and vaunted public school system.

You win! 

* the grille.
** Or, as the mighty endless library forcing the redundancy of human librarians would have it,
Acting out is a psychological term from the parlance of defense mechanisms and self-control, meaning to perform an action in contrast to bearing and managing the impulse to perform it. The acting done is usually anti-social and may take the form of acting on the impulses of an addiction (e.g. drinking, drug taking or shoplifting) or in a means designed (often unconsciously or semi-consciously) to garner attention (e.g. throwing a tantrum or behaving promiscuously).

In general usage, the action performed is destructive to self or others and may inhibit the development of more constructive responses to the feelings in question. The term is used in this way in sexual addiction treatment, psychotherapy, criminology and parenting.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

I'm hip, and you're a drip!

If you pride yourself on surfing the latest sociopolitical trends, uber-hipster, than I want you to get fully invested in the Elizabeth Warren for President 2016! fad.


She's certainly an excellent counter for those pwoggy-woggy-doo-dahs who have come to disregard or even spite the matriarch of the Rodham-Clinton Dynasty.

Hillary sold out to Corporate!

Elizabeth makes Wall Street pee its collective pants crotch!


I keep seeing these ideas about Warren for POTUS 2016 joined, like Chang & Eng Bunker, at the rhetorical hip with the idea that Warren is so completely different from everyone else who ever would run, or has run, for big federal office since, like, you know, forever!

I'd wager a lifetime supply of Copper's Delight that nobody who says or thinks this idea of she's the 99% not the 1% has spent any time investigating what Betty actually has done in her Junior League-approved life.  Betty's schtick involves lukewarm "attack" statements where she half-seriously, and with perfect diction, weighs in against "excess corporate profits" or "profits before people" or "corporate money having too much influence in our society."

Nobody ever lists anything Betty has done.  They cite her words.  And they repeat what Pamela Pwogwell of the esteemed Pwogs-Awe-Us social media powerhouse has told them:  Warren is Wall Street's Enemy No. 1.  She will fix what Corporate has messed up.  She is a can-do woman who will take Wall Street by its bullish horns and turn it into a hibernating bear.  Why, just listen to her sound-bites!

She's a great speechifier for tense, judgmental yup-pwogs who --despite their frequent self-congratulation for tolerance, diversity-boosting and equal rights advancement-- actually have a very narrow, dictatorial view of the world.  The view is a familiar one to me, as I hear it all the time from people in my town who mistakenly believe I share their politics, and who say things expecting my nods of approval or my revivalist response to their brimstone call.

"Obama's trying to break the stranglehold that Corporate has on America, but the obstructionist Republicans won't allow it."

"Obamacare is really better for everyone, and the only reason people are skeptical about it is because they've been negatively influenced by lies told by Tea Party nutjobs."

"One of the best things Obama did after assuming office in Jan 09 was to install a cabinet and advisory team who were not the old-boy corporate hogs of the federal cash feedlot.  But Fox News keeps portraying Obama as something he's not, so the truth really hasn't been heard yet."

This shit is so old it can be carbon-dated.


I understand, good progressive, that you long for a real heroine.  You want someone who will bring the axe down on the steroidally enhanced neck of Corporate Rethug Power.  Preferably, you want this someone to look safe and neutral while doing that.  Your image touchstone is someone who resembles a 50 year old spinster librarian eager to "shush!" those uncouth savages who might laugh aloud at a book they're reading.  Or who reminds you that this public library shouldn't permit smelly, unshaved, raggedy-clothed undesirables to browse and read in the collection stacks, because you'd rather not have to worry about whether Special Snowflake Susie and Powerfully Prodigious Patrick should fear that undesirable type, or worse, ask you to explain why he wears such raggedy clothes in your Upscale Outdoor Lifestyle town where even the pre-schoolers are wearing Full Patagucci.

Naturally you'd cotton onto Betty.  She has that calm, reassuring appearance of an upper middle class woman whose Soccer Mom SUV has "I support Public Radio" and "PBS" stickers along with the essential "Wag More Bark Less" command decal, and who calmly breaks out the iPhone as she's pulling out of the Public Library lot, to tell** the au pair to slice up some kiwi and mango for Susie and Patrick, you're on your way home now.

Betty would chastise people like me for being against the $15k - 20k bill handed me by the City for public sidewalk construction on my lot, which public sidewalk I must maintain for the safe passage of special snowflakes and powerful prodigies who walk by my house to taunt my dog and throw rocks and pinecones at her.  Betty would tell me that my dog is "scary" and thus snowflake and prodigy are well within their rights to behave cruelly toward my dog.  Teaching snowflake and prodigy to respect animals, and learn their habits?  No sir.  The only good dog is whatever Betty approves.  Like a bichon frise.  Or a chihuahua.  Or a toy doberman.  Whatever prodigy and snowflake can bully easily by their size difference, making the poor mutt cower and supplicate -- that's what Betty would approve.  For me.  And tell me about it, in a polite lecturing tone delivered with the mildest scowl of disapproval.


People who support Betty are gentrifiers.  They are concerned largely with image.

If a real firebrand active attacker of power disparity were to arrive on the Donkey dance floor, the pwogosphere would shit a 2-ton brick that's hardened to a diamond's durometer thanks to the anal-retentive hyper-tension of the collective pwogosphere's bowel complex.

Good job, pwogs.  Way to boost that pwogwessive portrait.  It's a still life here in America, not some radical cubist imagining or vibrant broadway boogie-woogie.

It's a Mark Rothko color panel.

Such powerful imagery.


** Not ask.  Tell.

Monday, November 11, 2013

in her view

Progressive punditry titan(ess?) interviews aimless vector of sarcasm.

Drooling maroons and preening poltroons, I bring you Amber Milgram interviewing Harold Caidagh.  Let's hope you don't enjoy any of it.

Amber sure didn't.  She didn't even find it worth running at Progressive Reports Now.  Which says a lot, given the ubiquity of the progressive mindset circa 2013.


Amber Milgram

Harold Caidagh


Amber Milgram (AM):  Tonight we bring you a relatively new entity in the world of blogging.  He's not young, but he's not collecting Social Security yet either.  He's marginally well educated, highly opinionated, and not at all celebrated. 
Please don't throw any tomatoes yet, there'll be plenty of opportunity later.  I give you Harold Caidagh.

Harold Caidagh (HC):  That's me.

AM:  Let's start at the beginning, shall we?  Tell us about your childhood.

HC:  I'd rather hear about yours.  I imagine it was all about coloring perfectly, sharp margins, pastel shades.  Threat of corporal punishment for border transgressions.

AM:  We're here to hear about you, Mr Caidagh.

HC:  Maybe you should remove that Bluetooth dangle-dongle from your left ear, then.  Does left ear Bluetooth mean you lean left politically, or something?

AM:  Mr Caidagh, where did you go to school?

HC:  Which grades?  What subjects?

AM:  Elementary.  K through 6.

HC:  Some elementary school in a place that had cinder block construction.

AM:  Were the floors concrete?

HC:  I couldn't tell you.  I didn't build it.

AM:  Were they painted?  Covered in tile?

HC:  I just told you, I didn't build it.  I don't know.

AM:  What kind of architecture did the school have?

HC:  Hell if I know.

AM:  Were you a good student?

HC:  I can't remember.

AM:  Did you have a favorite subject?

HC:  Recess.  And P.E.

AM:  So you weren't a scholar?

HC:  What's a scholar?

AM:  Did you enjoy the academic subjects?

HC:  Most of the time they moved too slowly for me.

AM:  Are you trying to say you were smarter than your teachers?

HC:  Hell if I know.

AM:  That's how it sounds.  You do sound a bit arrogant.

HC:  Here, let me hold up a mirror.

AM:  I'm sorry, what does that mean?

HC:  It'll come to you eventually.

AM:  Let's move on to high school.  Seven through twelve.

HC:  I guess that's how it went when you were in school.  I had junior high.  Then high school.  But it was just about like K through 6 for me.  Same answers.

AM:  Cinder blocks and slow classes?

HC:  Sure.

AM:  Did you attend college?

HC:  I suppose.

AM:  You suppose what?

HC:  That I attended.  I really can't remember.

AM:  What did you do after high school graduation?

HC:  Removed the cap and gown.  Drove home.

AM:  And...?

HC:  Probably listened to The Cars.  Candy-O.  I need you.  Sun dress.  Ruby ring.

AM:  I don't like your suggestions.  You should not be vocalizing fantasies about me.  I'm an accomplished journalism professional who is here to conduct a professional interview.

HC:  It's the lyrics.  I guess you don't know them.

AM:  I'm more interested in Bruce Springsteen.  He speaks for a segment of America that has been ignored by the Evil Rethuglicans.

HC:  The what?

AM:  I'm sorry.  The Republican Party.  What is your political affiliation?

HC:  What do you mean?

AM:  Are you a Republican?  That would be my guess.  I reviewed a few of your blog entries and to be quite honest, I'm a bit terrified at the present time, sitting in the same room with you.  I'd rather have a policeman here.  Preferably a SWAT team member.  Or perhaps an Army Ranger.

HC:  What?

AM:  Your blog is terrifying.  It's violent, it's misogynist, it's homophobic, it's just frightening to me.

HC:  I'm not following you.  What blog are you referring to here?  Maybe you have me confused with someone else.

AM:  I've got it open on my laptop right here.  The name of the blog appears to be "universal non-stick formula."

HC:  Okay.  Yep, that's mine.  What's up with those ideas about being scared, and the critical things you said about me?

AM:  You have to admit, Mr Caidagh, that your blog is very reactionary.  I am inclined to think that even the Republican Party of 2013 is not angry and hateful enough for you.

HC:  Angry about what?  Hateful about what?  I don't pay attention to the Republicans.  You'll have to tell me what they're about if you want me to compare myself to them.

AM:  Let's switch gears here.  Where do you get the ideas for things you write about at your blog?

HC:  The big bad world.  Humans like to do big bad things.

AM:  I'm afraid I have to disagree.  I find humans to be the greatest source of good on the planet.  Well, except for Republicans, that is.

HC:  What?

AM:  I'm quite serious, Mr Caidagh.  I'm rather optimistic about what the Democrats can and will do between now and whenever I draw my last breath.  I believe the Democrats can fix our current problems.  As long as we don't have to deal with too much Republican obstructionism, that is.

HC:  I guess I'll have to ask you what part of history you're talking about when you say good things about Democrats and bad things about Republicans.

AM:  Well, since I've been old enough to vote.

HC:  And that would be counting back to when, exactly?

AM:  Mr Caidagh, that's very rude of you to ask me to divulge a year which would enable people to calculate my age.

HC:  Why not refer to a number of decades, then?

AM:  I think it would be safe to say that since the start of the 20th Century, all human progress in America has been engineered by the Democrats.

HC:  And you define human progress as?

AM:  That which moves humanity forward.

HC:  Excellent.  A generic statement nobody can quarrel with, lacking all detail, because details might trip you up.  I bet you had a fancy education.

AM:  The finest.  But we're here to discuss you, your education, your formative years, and the origins of and explanations for your views.

HC:  My views?  I see a lot of things.  I bet I see things as you do, and as many others do too.

AM:  That's not how your blog reads.

HC:  So you are reading my mind when you read my blog?  How does that work?  Is it like a gift you have, or something?

AM:  I am quite gifted, yes.  I'm one of the best cold readers you'll ever meet.  It's why I'm so good at interviews.  I see right through facades.

HC:  Here's that mirror again.  Tell me what you see.

AM:  I am here to interview you, Mr Caidagh.  My history is described at my publication's website.  Let's not get distracted by this un-subtle diversion you're employing.

HC:  If you say so.

AM:  I do.

HC:  Well then.

AM:  Shall we continue?

HC:  Please move forward.

AM:  Your blog shows a very homophobic person.  I'm sure you're well aware that modern psychological research and neurobiology have proved that homophobia is practiced by closeted homosexuals.

HC:  Really?  So you were trained in science?

AM:  Thanks to the diverse portfolio of benefactors for my publication, I have taken advantage of numerous continuing education opportunities in the sciences.

HC:  Describe one of them for me.

AM:  We're here to talk about you, Mr Caidagh.

HC:  It's Harold.  Or Hal, if you feel familiar.

AM:  I don't, Mr Caidagh.  I don't, and I don't wish to.  But thank you for your considerations.

HC:  It's nothing.

AM:  I believe that's the first honest answer you've given.  Thank you.

HC:  I'm sure I didn't mean to, but okay.

AM:  So how long have you been in the closet?  Since puberty?  Before that?

HC:  You're suggesting I'm a mop, or a broom?

AM:  Your bald pate disproves the mop, but perhaps you do perform witchery in your spare time.  I would not be surprised.

HC:  Look, everybody!  She has a sense of humor!

AM:  That was not a joke.

HC:  I'm sure you see it that way.  And who am I to argue with one of the world's best cold readers?

AM:  This avoidance is typical of those who are closeted.  Remember Larry Craig?

HC:  Can't say I do.  Who is he?  Or was he?

AM:  Just another pathetic, lying Evil Rethuglican.  We caught him, and exposed him, and embarrassed him.  We made him face up to his true nature.  We're quite good at that, actually.

HC:  Who is "we"?

AM:  The Democrats.  We are the noblest political entity in America's history and --I think I can say this candidly-- the most benevolent political entity on the planet.

HC:  That's not arrogant at all.  Nice work.

AM:  It's not polite to gloat.

HC:  What is the penalty for rudeness, in your world?

AM:  Generally we like to offer polite... now wait just a minute, Mr Caidagh.  I must remind you that we are here to discuss your views.

HC:  We're not doing that?

AM:  I'm still waiting for you to be forthcoming.

HC:  What's the structure here?  If I'm thirsty, can I take a break to get a glass of water?

AM:  I'll have someone bring you a bottle of Artisanal Hydrator (TM).

HC:  I can get my own, thanks.  You trust those water bottlers to give you something good?

AM:  We've vetted Artisanal Hydrator.  They do not fund any Evil Rethuglican candidates.  No connections to the Koch Bros.

HC:  Who are the Koch Bros?

AM:  Your ignorance astounds me.  You don't know about the biggest financial orchestrators of Evil Rethuglican obstructionism and reactionary politicking?

HC:  Can't say I do.  You're telling me that some brothers are behind all the problems you face today, in your view?

AM:  Absolutely.  Diligent investigative journalists have exposed the Koch Bros as being the masterminds of all political efforts to undermine, sabotage and derail the noble work of the Democrats.

HC:  Who was the journalist that uncovered this dastardly scheme?

AM:  Quite a few of them, actually.  A great team of racially and sexually diverse people.

HC:  A rainbow coalition?

AM:  I would call them that, if it were not trademarked already.

HC:  You know, I thought the Cook Brothers were makers of mountain bike parts in the 1990s.  I'm amazed at what they've been able to do in the 15 or 20 years that have passed since then.  So now they control all politics in America?  Pretty impressive.  What do your team of journalists say is the key to their rise to power?

AM:  Hatred.  Pure, unalloyed hatred.  Hatred of everyone and everything that isn't exactly as they wish.

HC:  What do you think is the source of this hatred?

AM:  Intolerance.  And a reactionary view.  They just can't accept that America has moved past the 18th Century.  I think it's absurd that they want to turn the clock back some 250 years.  Apparently they want everyone to die from simple bacterial infections.  They would rather people travel on foot, or horseback.  And they can't stand to see anyone being comfortable with modern conveniences and scientific advancements.  They're flat-earthers.  I'm sure they think we could sail right off the edge of our flat world.

HC:  You seem to have a lot of hatred yourself.  Your face got red and pinched when you talked about these Cook Brothers.  My memory is that they were trying to improve MTB technology.  You angrily say they are luddites.  But you used a lot more words to convey that message.

AM:  I think we're talking about different Koch Bros.

HC:  If you say so.

AM:  The Koch Bros tried to stop gay marriage.

HC:  Really?  You mean they went into a civil wedding ceremony and disrupted it?

AM:  No.  Nothing as innocent as that.  They are trying to prevent everyone from allowing gay marriage.

HC:  How?

AM:  Public opinion engineering.

HC:  How is that done?

AM:  Hateful statements about homosexuals being corrupt individuals.  They call them deviants.  Or worse.

HC:  Now that's interesting.  I have seen a lot of human corruption in my lifetime.  I haven't really seen it confined to certain segments of humanity.  Whatever the skin color, or belief, or sexual behavior a person may have, that doesn't seem to bear on corruption.  Corruption crosses all kinds of boundaries.  It's pretty egalitarian, corruption.  Maybe even universal.

AM:  I must hasten to disagree.

HC:  Please do that, then.  Don't tell me you're going to do it.  Go on and do it.

AM:  Thorough and honest investigation has shown that corruption is limited to Evil Rethuglicans, reactionaries, homophobes, misogynists, bigots, racists, and libertarians.  Especially libertarians.  They are the worst, of course.  All that Ayn Rand reference certainly is nauseating.  I'm growing ill just thinking about it for these few seconds.

HC:  Forgot your Ativan, did you?

AM:  Modern pharmacology is one of the things the Koch Bros would deny us.

HC:  These Cook Brothers are a kind of obsession for you, aren't they?

AM:  I would not be surprised to learn that you are on their payroll.

HC:  I would.  You say they are influential and rich.  If I were on their payroll, do you think I'd be living hand-to-mouth?

AM:  Oh I'm sure you have a secret account somewhere and receive transfers of Koch Bros money in that well-hidden account.  That would surely explain the homophobic, misogynist content of your blog.  Quite handily, in fact.

HC:  Judge, jury, executioner!

AM:  That's not funny.

HC:  Facts be damned!

AM:  I am distinctly unamused.

HC:  Well I'd suggest you eat an Ativan but you've obviously forgotten them.  Look at your face!  You look like you're choking on something.

AM:  You are an incredible misogynist.

HC:  What, because I'm observing what's happening?  That's misogyny?  You have an interesting dictionary.

AM:  I'd like to suggest that your blog is sponsored by the Koch Bros and various interests who are trying to protect the NSA.

HC:  Wait a minute.  Don't you support the President?

AM:  Of course I do.  I am an integral part of the Democratic Party.

HC:  And doesn't the NSA serve the President's interests?

AM:  Your naivete is amusing.  The NSA is an old-boy network, patriarchal and bigoted.  They hate the President.  They tried to have him defeated in 2008 and 2012, but thankfully, the progressive view is stronger than the NSA's antiquated reactionary perspective.

(end Part I)

Saturday, November 9, 2013

bwaaaah hah hah hah hah

Frilly-bloused copycat with a bleeding anus sez:

Yeah, well, I don’t recall Glenn ever being a big attacker of corporate power

blah blah blah blah continues the stupidass sockpuppet NegPup vector.

Can you dig it, brutha?

Pseudo-Critic is pretending like he's really been rough on Keencall, and has really been tearing apart Keencall's empty "journalism".

P-C would have us believe that P-C always has worked from this perspective -- specifically, adverse to Keencall's interests.

But in truth, P-C hasn't.

He's still not running any lines of rhetoric against Keencall.  What he's doing when he appears to negate Keencall is just some catty pooftah snark being tossed.  Not chewy snark that bites, stings, and emasculates.  But foofy, frilly-blouse snark.  Gay inner circle snark.  Faggot flounce snark.  "Oh honey, this is just a Christopher Street Celebrity Roast, sweetie."

This is not really surprising to me, as I've seen Pseudo-Critic being a rent-boy for Keencall consistently, going well beyond the services required for the rental fee paid, for the past 5 years.

P-C blamed all of Keencall's dilatory revelation (of the Snowball Treasure Trove) on Warding-Off UK's editors who "controlled" Keencall's "story."

In doing this, P-C was suggesting that Keencall is a decent, honest, sincere journalist who truly is aiming at delivering true breaking revelations, but sadly, his editors would not allow that to happen.

And that's just on the Snowball-Keencall-O'Boisterous buncombe.

Prior to that, P-C ran around the internet following me wherever I commented on Keencall's bullshit, with P-C "attacking" me using more spurned, wish-you-would-be-my-boyfriend-you-handsome-breeder cattiness, like "seems like you're obsessed bro" or "you're just jealous bro" or "you lust after Glenn" or "get out of the closet already bro".

Someone who does that is protecting Keencall.  And P-C has a 5 years history of that protection.

Who else has run around the internet for the past 5 years protecting Keencall with accusations of jealousy, homophobia, obsession?

Oh, shit.  Almost forgot.

It's been Keencall himself doing that.  And he's been caught doing it, along with deleting undesired comments from his Un-brained Fairy-story blog and his subsequent fashion magazine "journalism" job websites.  Several of his handles were exposed.  So it's only natural that now he'd continue the pattern, but try to hide it with a new "creative" method of Protecting the Keencall Income Stream.

Even now that P-C has shifted his perspective to try to sell the angle of "I'm here to show you how smart I am, by taking weak swipes at Keencall on the Snowball-O'Boisterous-WardingOffUK gambol," he still barely ever scratches Keencall's skin.

The quote I began with is about as direct and eviscerating as P-C ever gets.  And as you can see, it's just catty snark.  P-C may as well be making a snide remark about Keencall's hairstyle, or his choice of shoes.


When did P-C begin shifting his series perspective?

After Laurence Lange chastised him.

He went from telling Lange that Lange was just "jealous" and "obsessed", to copying Lange's suggested perspective on Keencall, and adopting that perspective as his (P-C's) own.  Once P-C had deleted all of the Lange comments which embarrassed P-C by exposing how and where P-C was wrong in his assumptions about & arguments protecting Keencall, P-C began writing with Lange's perspective as his own.

P-C did not see Keencall's bullshit.

P-C still does not believe that Keencall is, and always has been, offering bullshit instead of truth or useful facts that haven't been widely disseminated previously.

Why is P-C not attacking the core of Keencall's Famous Investigative Journalist e-Persona?

I've already told you.

P-C is Keencall.

P-C is working a NegPup angle to keep Keencall a hot topic of discussion, so that Keencall can seem relevant to the dipshit "progressive" infotainment consumer base who will be buying subscriptions with Frottage-Bois's new entity.

Examine their work.  Look at how they snark when questioned.  Look at how they deflect with snark on non-issues.  Look at how they delete posts which really expose their emptiness and fraudulence.

Anyone can have numerous online identities as well as numerous Twitter accounts.  Someone who isn't working (like Keencall) can spend huge blocks of time each day surfing the WebToobz, looking for indicia of his fame or infamy, and desperately savaging the infamous talkers with sock puppet snark.

The P-C vector is just a new modification of the Rick Ellensberg, Carl Ellers, Ellis, Wilson, etc. sock puppetry for which Keencall was embarrassed publicly in 2009-2010.  It's assuming the public embarrassment is in people's heads, so it's doing the Mossad-esque angle of reversing it, owning it, and using it against those who originally gained from the exposure.

It's got the kind of shrewdness that only a pathological narcissist can construct and implement.

But I've known since 2005 that Keencall is a pathological narcissist.  I learned it by having exchanges with him at Un-brained Fairy-story.  As with P-C deleting Lange, Keencall deleted comments which showed his naivete about various things (Democrat complicity in the post-9/11/2001 era, CIA helming of Chavez assassination attempts, functional power equivalence between Ds and Rs).

They're the same person.

Don't be fooled into thinking P-C is some wise hero.  He's no more wise, and no more a hero, than Fake Eddie Snowball.

Friday, November 8, 2013

the problem with you, and you, and you

...and every other one of you. 


You see the pinnacle role for you in this life, at this moment and every other, as boosting.  Praising.  Doing PR for it.

You boost yourself.  You boost whomever you worship or admire.  You feel it's your personal obligation to "progress" whatever interests you.  If you're an athlete, you want to play a role in "growing the sport."  Or "progressing" it.

Your world revolves around this.  You tweet.  You facebook.  You blog.  And in those acts, you're mostly praising something or someone else, hopefully in an angle toward some kind of eventual commercial advantage, monetary percentage, value stakeholding, or derivative interest.

You want to see others reflect your choices.  You're not sure of those choices.  You don't know, for example, whether you really like M.Ward or Fleet Foxes.  You listened to them and weren't really moved this way or that. 

So you check your friends.  Do enough of them like M.Ward?  Then maybe you really do like M.Ward yourself.  Did some celebrity tweet about M.Ward?  Well.  Now we're getting somewhere.  Affiliation with that celebrity, via joint M.Ward admiration, is sure to grow your self-confidence.

What are your political views?  Well, that depends on what's trending right now.  When you were in your early 20s, you fancied yourself an environmentalist and bought yourself a pair of hiking boots that you used once.  When you tried to wear them again 5 years later you found your feet had fattened and lengthened.  As had your whole body.  Fattened, I mean. 

Maybe it's because those boots only got used once, and only to go shopping at REI.  For a Gore-Tex parka that you wore a few times more than the boots.  Mostly, for return trips to REI.  Or for that one time when a friend invited you to a benefit for the Sierra Club.  It was 65 out, but you persuaded yourself it might rain.  So on went the Gore-Tex.  It's outdoorsy.  You'll fit in better at a Sierra Club gathering.

As you realized you weren't really an environmentalist apart from liking the way that image felt as you basked in it, you started aiming toward a new invigoration.  What were the admired "intellectuals" talking about?  Go to the library.  Do they have Mother Jones?  Or The Nation?  What is Katha Pollitt griping about? 

Aaaaah.  Feminism.

Here's a good one. 

You're not a woman yourself.  But if you can "stand in solidarity with" women, you might get laid after the next Progressive Democratic Singles meetup.  It's the 90s.  Women want a sensitive man.  You don't know much about feminism, but you know that rape is bad.  You know that those dirt-eating rednecks are famous for domestic violence, and you know you hate those rednecks because a lot of 'em vote Republican.  Look at this:  you're building an entire persona out of this triangulated, extrapolated perspective.  You're a hero, standing up for women!  You hate those misogynist rednecks! 

The new invigoration is truly invigorating.  You start looking for opportunities to accuse other guys of misogyny.  Or sexism.  One of your friends remarks on a woman's ass as she passes the two of you, and instead of admiring the woman's ass yourself, you begin to feel shame.  Shame at your own sexual attraction toward the woman.  "I should NOT be feeling this.  It's sexist.  It's misogynistic."  You begin browbeating your friend about the hateful rape fantasies he's hanging onto in his brain's box o' fantasies.  "Dude, you need to stop looking at porn.  It's turned you into someone who objectifies women."

Your friend looks back at you, as if you're a total stranger who just threatened him with violence.

"What the fuck are you talking about, dude.  A few months back you told me about the great ass on some girl you had a one night stand with.  You went into great detail.  That's okay for you but not for me?  Who is it okay for?  Anyone?"

You have about 2 seconds of empathy and understanding, and then your conscious drive to feel radical, intellectual and special kicks back in. 

"Man, I just can't believe what a misogynist you've become.  I bet you have raped several women."  Your voice is now ramping up because you saw an attractive woman within earshot.  "Women are not just sex objects put here for you to jump on when you feel horny.  Sheesh."

You notice the dark-haired woman look over at you.  So you continue.

"You know, I think you really need to consider just how sexist you are, and how much you objectify women.  They're human beings too.  They deserve your respect."

These generic statements seem to be working.  The brunette just said something to her friend and has turned toward you, and is closing the gap between you.  Suddenly she's right there, almost in your face.  You assume she's going to admire you, or chastise your friend.

You're wrong.

"You're a wanker.  You're being so loud and obnoxious with your fake-feminist bullshit.  I saw you ogling me while pretending to be Mr Sympathetic.  You were looking at my tits as you called your friend out for 'objectifying women.'  What are you, some kind of weasely 'male feminist' who uses that schtick to try to get laid?  You're pathetic."

And with that she turns and walks back to her friend.

You turn to your friend and say, "bitch is probably a Republican anyway."

trustafarian on the slum

You know the surest way to identify someone as a trustafarian on the slum?

Short of knowing their personal worth via access to all familial holdings including trusts etc, I mean.

You just remain friends or half-cordial acquaintances with them while they move from their late 20s/early 30s into early middle life.

And you watch them go from dirtbagging to opening new businesses with hundreds of thousands of $$$ as initial capital.

And you watch them turn into operators of boutiques where super-expensive trinkets are sold to other trust-babies and parents of trust-babies.

And you watch them buy $500k houses.  Or build $1million "homes."

And you hear them tell you that you have to pay for public sidewalks that ought to be publicly funded (but aren't) because (a) it's easy for them to cough up $20k on a whim, and (b) they want the sidewalk and therefore you have to agree with them.

You'll hear even more lecturing about how it's "everyone's burden" to do something that is very expensive for marginal income people -- simply because for the trustie-on-the-slum, nothing is expensive.

You'll watch them sell their 10 year old rusted out Subaru or small pickup truck for pennies, and buy a $50k swankmobile.

You'll hear them talk about the 6 vacations they took last year, 5 of them international.

They'll gleefully tell you about the condo they just bought at Park City, supplementing the one they already had (via their parents) at Aspen or Vail.  They'll raise this by asking you whether you're going to be visiting Park City this season, and they may very well ask you about your condo there -- knowing fully well that you don't have one.

They're likely to go off on a polite but clearly incensed tirade about "the homeless" and propose solutions like new ordinances which make it illegal to be a "vagrant", and demand that the existing anti-panhandling ordinance be enforced with more vigor.  From that topic they'll leap into a discussion of how the "undesirables" really need to be purged from the town for "beautification" purposes.  While they're on this little rip, they're staring at your faded jeans with a worn-through knee, and your week of beard growth, with a very condemnatory gaze.

When you encounter one of them at a social gathering, you'll observe their constant attention toward assessment of who is "noticing" them, and their tallying of how many of the "good people" are in attendance.  Too many rough or lower-class people and they're sure to be gone shortly.

At the ski hill they're often heard lamenting the lack of pristine grooming and multi-million dollar detachable quad lifts, and the "tacky" nature of the day lodge.  They'll praise the "quaint, authentic" bar because that's what they understand as a secret-handshake for not being hated as Rich Pukes With A Bad Attitude, but they're actually seen by many as such Rich Pukes.  The Rich Puke status is diluted with generosity in buying rounds for others.

Truly the most obnoxious problem, in their view, is not enough 4- or 5-star restaurants in town.  Too much "cheap eats" for them.  Feels too "rednecky".  They're fine with a slum now and then, but mostly they expect artisanal presentations of exquisite rare ingredients at $25/plate minimum.  And they're not going to rest until that's a regular sight.

They thought everyone else was just slumming when preferring things simple, cheap, unassuming and uncrowded. 

And they're rather disturbed to learn that you, too, haven't grown into being fully comfortable lording your riches over the plebes -- and even more disgusted by the horrible fact that you don't have any such riches, never did, and never really have aspired toward them.

Soon they just stop being friends with you, other than a barely-cordial "hi" muttered when they feel trapped in your general presence.

No.  They're not Republicans.

They're Progressive Democrats.  And they'll never let you forget that.

make it up as we go along

How you see your favorite political party, or party member politician, or partisan ideologue pundit:

How you see your hated enemy adversarial party, or evil member of that adversary party, or terrible opinioneer for the adversaries:

How you should see any politician, or any political pundit/opinioneer:

How you see any person who suggests you should see politicians or pundits as I just suggested:

How you feel when you are told to see politicians or pundits as puppets:

Your response to feeling that way:

How you imagine that action working out for you:

How it actually plays out:


1)  What you call "self-esteem" is tribal identity, often aided by hubris.

2)  Hubris and humility may sound alike in their respective first syllables, but they're as opposite as the poles.

3)  Real self-esteem contains a lot of humility.

4)  Tribal identity is not a substitute for self-esteem.

you know that one scene in The Shining...

...where Jack is chasing Danny in the hedge maze, at night in the snow, and Danny decides to fool Jack by stopping and then re-tracing his steps backward?

Well, that's a lot like Pseudo-Critic's latest entry where he's again trying to tell his readers that he's always been skeptical of the Fake Eddie Snowjob - Lore O'Boisterous - Ken Keencall schtick.

That tale would be less tall, and more believable, if Pseudo-Critic hadn't been writing most of his essays during 2013 from the perspective of worshiping and apologizing for Keencall, and believing the Snowjob buncombe.

Nice try, Pseudo-Critic.  Sure.  You were always critical of those people and their bogus stories.  Right.  That's why you defended Keencall and said the story was only lagging in its revelations because of Keencall's editors at Warding-Off UK.

Admit you're a naive fucktard already, Pseudo-Critic.  You don't see and can't break any new perspective because everything you see is what you see someone else telling you they've already seen.  Everything you "break" was broken by someone else.

And you're so fucking arrogant that you can't admit this, nor can you admit from whom you get your "insights".

Enjoy your new job with Frottage-Bois.  Money and fame are sure to help a liar's conscience fizzle into silence when the liar's trying to fall asleep at night.

Oh.  Hang on a sec.

You don't have a conscience, so, no problem!

Thursday, November 7, 2013

split, toward what ends?

Monsieur Frottage-Bois has hired several new spin artists.  In addition to Ken Keencall, we have Lore O'Boisterous, Jeremiad Cavedweller, and Stan Broomwagon.

These courageous shills, who have mostly done yeoman work for this guy over the past decade

Ah hayt themz Ellufintz, 'deed ah dew.

will certainly be engaged in very detached and objective reporting while working for Frottage-Bois and being guided by Keencall.  We can definitely count on them to bring us serious, unbiased facticity and truthiness. 

I can see it now.

Keencall will be telling us how it's shocking, even terrifying, that we still haven't heard NSA admit that Fake Eddie Snowball took game-changing data with him when he left Ft Meade.

O'Boisterous will tell us how the Evil Rethuglicans are the ones to blame for NSA not making those admissions.

Cavedweller will tell us that the US Department of Defense occasionally uses special forces personnel to do things "off the books," like helping orchestrate insurgency in regions where American businesspeople would like to see a change in a foreign nation's policy -- such as, requiring Afghanistan to allow various industrial infrastructure contractors to begin building a natural gas pipeline across Afghanistan.  Cavedweller will assure us, while wearing a kaffiyeh and 5 days of beard growth, that nobody before him ever has advanced the idea that US military activity in Afghanistan is about petrogas interests.  Cavedweller will remind us of his reporting on how Afghanistan used to be about protecting Afghani women's interests.

Broomwagon will be all over the map attacking Evil Rethuglicans for their "lying postures" regarding Obamacare, and he'll spend countless words arguing for everyone to hitch up their pants and participate in O-care "for the greater good."  People who observe the bankrupting nature of the monthly mandatory payment + ultra-high-floored deductible, well, they'll just be called wingnuts, Randites, crazy libertarians, sociopaths, and worse.

Let us all join hands and chant together, our soothing mantra in praise of the new Frottage-Bois venture which promises to deliver a kinder, happier America for everyone.

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

XX means blamelessness

Women are never culpable for moral or ethical transgressions.


Because "feminists" have assured us that anything a woman or girl does which is harmful toward another living being (or plural), that's the fault of misogyny, reactionary attitudes, the patriarchy, and if the XX is lesbian or bisexual, homophobia.

HOLYFUCK! how I miss the days of Jack Crow trying to tell me all about my rape fantasies, which he alleged were proved by my astonishing callousness when I said women and men should be judged by the same standards.

Yes.  Because I said women and men should have equivalent culpability, I harbor and act upon rape fantasies.

Isn't that obvious?

Shit, it's as obvious as the "fact" that if I spend most of my time mocking "progressives" (a thriving subset of the superset "Democrats"), I must without exception be deemed a Republican.

Because, y'know, you're either with us or against us.


Crowtard naturally took his Morally Superior stance from the pigheaded refusal to acknowledge differences in opinion or perspective.  But honestly, in that he was not and is not alone -- not by a long shot.

As a general matter, "leftists" of all types, including the "market anarchist left", are dictatorial in their impulses.  They insist that you agree with their values and assumptions, and if you do not, well, that's definitely a reflection of your misanthropy, your misogyny, your homophobia, or your general tendency toward violence.

Even if you've never done a violent thing toward anyone, they'll accuse you, with spittle-casting angry shouts that yield no room for you to defend yourself, of being a violent person who means to do harm to gay men or women or girls.

Why would they need proof of those violent tendencies?  You had the temerity to hold a different opinion from the mighty leftist.  Therefore, the mighty leftist is free to accuse you of any human malevolence.  No proof required.  The accusation stands!  A mighty leftist has spoken!


Continuing this "argument" (such as it is, lacking rhetorical force and probative supporting evidence) even further, it's obvious that the prior 4 paragraphs demonstrate my certain "rightist" perspective.


Because I'm mocking "leftists."  You have to be a "rightist" if you spend ANY time mocking "leftists."  A true "leftist" cannot laugh at himself/herself/itself.


That cannot be withstood.

If anyone mocks a "leftist," that person is perforce a "rightist" who should be tracked down, caught, and executed on the spot.

There is only one perspective allowed in 2013.

And Jack Crow was its pontiff.

It's a shame he contracted e-cancer and had to tuck his weasely tail between his weasely hind legs, and run away forever.

Undoubtedly he'll be back.  Millionaires who are true Renaissance Frauds are never held down for long, not by anything.  Not by mortality, especially.  The Crowtard is larger than life.


Ahem.  Pardon the provocative diversion.

Why did I raise this subject of feminine blamelessness?

This story.

Please, Heroic Leftists -- hurry and leave shit-spewing diarrhea-laden comments in which you sternly lecture me on reading reason.  Leap to the conclusion that I admire the writers and editors there.  Assume automatically that their politics are identical to mine.  And quickly demand that my penis and testes be chopped off, because I dare to point at the pathetic lack of ethical behavior shown by Hornetta Hyphen-Dash, undercover narcotics detective whose undercover situation "required her" to fuck the guy she was trying to bust.

I want you to react that way.  I want you to get all pissed off at me, because you can't deal with some woman's engorged clit telling her to cross ethical boundaries, or ignore those boundaries.

Also, you really need to ignore the classic "women love to fuck a bad boy" feature of feminine sexuality.   Especially you poodles.  You poodles are busy putting women on pedestals, so you definitely can't admit that women are crass beasts who do destructive things when their pussy gets wet.

You fucking idiots.

here's what really sucks

I'm funnier than you.

I'm wiser than you.

I see more than you.

I understand more than you.

I write better than you.

There is a 99/100 certitude that I'm a better athlete than you.  Except in basketball, tennis, ice hockey, water polo, or polo.

Everything you think you've discovered recently, which you think makes you a specially insightful unique little snowflake -- well, I knew that thing long before you.


Some of you are going to quarrel with the first line, saying I'm not funny at all.  You know why you feel that way, you fucking idiot?  It's because you're an ideologue who has pet protected topics where you can't laugh at yourself or anyone or anything else.  SCORE:  Me 1, You 0.

Some of you are going to quarrel with the second line.  But you won't have any proof of that.  I insist, please -- bring the proofs you have, in whatever form, that show I'm dumber than you, or than someone else.  The truth?  You don't have those proofs, and never well.  SCORE:  Me 2, You 0.

The third line is rankling every single one of you.  You've spent your life thinking you're a really insightful little sir or mademoiselle, and you've received a lot of As and A-pluses, a lot of gold stars, a lot of perfect test scores on quiz day especially pop quizzes.  You think those little trinkets show your insightfulness, but to be honest?  They merely show you're quite the little memorizer and grinder, a veritable teacher's pet, a super-sycophant.  Which is far from being insightful.  What you lack is the ability to take all those tidbits for which you received an A+ or 100/100 or 10/10 or gold star, synthesize them into a coherent network of points and ideas, and render something new and meaningful from that swirled-together mixture.  Poor little fool.  That's what you can't do.  So you stick to proving what you can memorize, or cut-and-paste, and assume that's a quality stand-in for true insight.  But it's not.  SCORE:  Me 3, You 0.

By this point in the analysis, the fourth line is pissing you off.  You're behind, 3-0, and this isn't basketball where high double digit end scores are the norm.  This is more like soccer.  Coming back from a 3-0 deficit almost never happens.  So when you read that 4th line, your complexion is beet-red.  There's steam emanating from your ears.  Inside your mouth is a process of new sedimentation, the powder of ground teeth.  Your eyes are bugging out like Marty Feldman's.  Your only recourse is to flatly deny the possibility of that 4th line being true. 

This is where you skip ahead and leave me a really nasty comment.


SCORE:  Me 4, You 0.

The deficit now looks insumountable.  But Hope & Change are your mantras, aren't they?  That's how your critical vote gave us First Black President and ushered in a new post-racism America where gays can marry and abortions can happen right up until the serious days of maternal labor begin.  You, good sir or beneficent mademoiselle, have single-handedly progressed America. 

So you're sure that you can reverse the deficit at line 5.

But what does your writing show?  Even if you are Cute Little Beagle and have a novel published, you have to admit -- your writing is far too flowery, and suited only to a Gay Male readership.  It's ornate like a New Orleans French Quarter's balcony railing.  And while I'm sure that the Gay America Council really loves promoting that fantastic cinematic display of the clever word arts spoken by Kevin Spacey & Co in that impeccably stupendous achievement Midnight in the Garden of Good & Evil, the truth is that such stories and their manner of telling are really a very small part of what constitutes good writing.  Armistead Maupin is not Herman Melville.  So if my writing happens to offend the poodles who come here solely to drop a little Gucci bag of kitty poop on my doorstep and light it ablaze just seconds before ringing my doorbell, that's not really a demonstration that I'm a worse writer than Flopsy or Mopsy Cottontail, artist-in-residence at the Christopher Street Scandal Sheet.  It's really more a demonstration of your narrow, selfish interests.  Besides, look at how many writers imitate me, or look to me for where they should be pointing their noggins.

Which leads to the following new status on the tally.  SCORE:  Me 5, You 0.

By the time you've reached line 6, you're probably feeling defeated and even considering different manner of self-execution.  Suddenly you remember that you were pretty good at fencing when you were at Gentle Flower Montessori, a unique haven for special souls, grades K-12.  You jump from your chair and go rummaging through your basement for your foil, imagining that you can challenge me to a duel. 

Did you know that fencing isn't really athletic?  Truth.  You may as well consider billiards, or darts, to be real tests of athleticism.  Or maybe tenpin bowling. 

In any case, even if you insist on fencing, I'd probably beat you just because of the gigantic chasm of general athletic ability that stands between you and me.

Your smarter choice would be to insist on basketball.  Let's hope you're really good.  If you aren't, I'm afraid the score is about to change, likely leading to you still being skunked.

Even on the off-chance you gain some advantage through line 6 -- like through cheating, a common thing I've witnessed when playing sports against others -- and even if you should succeed on line 6, the end point has only two possibilities here.

FINAL SCORE:  Me 6, You 0


FINAL SCORE:  Me 5, You 1.

No matter how you slice it, I've won. 

This is probably why you've built a blogging or writing "career" based on lies and lack of individuality.  It's probably why you lie about your past when you mention it.  It's probably why you lie about your achievements.  It's probably why you lie about what you're working on right now.  And it's definitely why you'll keep lying right up until you take the terminal dirtnap.

Congratulations.  You win the Lifetime Mendicant Award.

Well done.

golf clap

Let us now softly applaud all the Donkeybots who have timidly approached the possibility that SuperGloriousUltraMandingo is a liar.

Add in a faint, whispery "oh yes, quite so" when one of these Donkeybots pretends he's been aware of the fraudulent game for many years, despite his blog containing Donkeybot worship on a regular basis since 2008 and even earlier.

After all, lying directly through those crooked-at-birth-but-fixed-with-braces-to-avoid-lower-class-origins teeth, and that touchpad "tablet" keyboard -- that's really proving you're hoarding the coins of the modern realm.

You can earn an audience-member's human sexual response (trouser tentpole or panties puddle) if you mention your "complicity" but never actually do anything except pretend to be interested in some changes.  After all, you've browbeaten everyone who questioned the possibility that abortion is murder, and you've heaped scathe on people who doubted the wisdom of Special Class Protection via gay marriage sanctification.

By doing those two things, you "proved" you're humanistic, holistic, and most of all, morally superior.

Remember -- everyone who doesn't agree with you needs to die.  Sooner, rather than later, is your preference.

The world will be an enjoyable place when everyone is a clone of you.

It's a fucking laugh-riot that you consider yourself enlightened and open-minded and tolerant.  And no, you can't avoid that existential hypocrisy by observing, now and again, that you have a "complicity" at work.  Because you know what, you fake-ass motherfucker?  You can do something about that complicity, but you refuse to -- opting, instead, to toss snark from a partisan, ideological tribalist viewpoint and existential stance.

You want to kill those who don't agree with you because you can't handle your own hypocrisy. 

Maybe the one who needs to die is you.

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

An examination of a modern journalist-hero


You Roger Ramjets of the Modern Era have definitely proved your techno-savvy by taking the above 3-panel and using the intervening 9 years to slowly move your ego projections onto Twitter.

Now you can "update" your "followers" every 30 seconds or so, with those pithy observations which prove your eternal gravitas.

Be sure to "update" often, so your "followers" will hang on your Tweetfeed with desperate anticipation.

The smart money is on swapping back and forth between the Twitter short-form and the Blogger or WordPress long-form.  In the long-form, be sure to screen-capture a Tweet-of-the-moment from whomever is your hero,* and display that capture to give maximum Ego Image Projection boost.

I definitely put that Serwer homophobe in his place!

I guess so, Glenn.  But let's ask your source what he has to say on the subject.

"Well, to be honest, folks -- I say I took a bunch of crucial secrets from NSA, but actually it was just a whole lot of pointless e-data.  Seriously.  Has anyone found anything useful in my cribbed data?  No.  Of course not.  Because there is no needle buried in that haystack."

Well.  Some may say that settles the matter, but I guess we should again consult our generation's journalist-hero for the real lowdown:

Look -- I TOLD you.  Snowden is a hero.  Stop asking what his files actually reveal.  We'll get to that in due time.  Trust me when I say this is going to blow the whole NSA program wide open, and begin a new chapter in American government with individual civil rights the new focus of our government's operation.  I'm a Constitutional Lawyer and Civil Rights Expert.  Stop challenging me or I'll toss a handful of snarky barbs at you on Twitter!


Meanwhile, back in reality -- still no shocking, world-improving, game-changing revelations have come out of Snowden's cribbed e-data.  Instead what we've been told by our journalist-hero is that... please, sit down for this one, and plant your feet firmly on the floor... the NSA actually has been following its publicly stated mission to use covert means (espionage, or "spying" in the common tongue) to gather information related to domestic and foreign activities which may, in some manner, be argued as relevant to "national security."

If you've paid attention to the post-9/11/2001 increase in fedgov paranoia and expansion of what constitutes "national security" and what is considered a potential threat to that "national security" then you're aware the NSA's scope for information gathering is broad.  Very broad.  It would include domestic activity which reflects public statements of criticism against the federal government, and globally it would include any foreign activity which may involve commercial behavior or governmental machinations that could, in some arguable way, work an impact on the United States of America.

And by "the United States of America," I mean both the fedgov and the various business ("economic") interests in play anywhere in the USA.

So, when our journalist-hero tells us that it is SHOCKING! to learn NSA actually spies on people's domestic activity, I begin wondering whether our journalist-hero --who presents himself as a civil rights expert, a constitutional law wizard, and a master scholar of fedgov operation-- is even aware of the scope of what NSA is publicly acknowledged as doing.

We may as well be surprised to learn that the IRS examines tax returns, that the FDA looks at pharmaceutical products, that the State Department occasionally engages in diplomatic activity, or that the Department of Defense is training soldiers and buying weaponry.


So how has the Snowden document trove proved anything damaging or revelatory?

It hasn't.

Greenwald continues to promise that there's more in abeyance, and he blames the delay on people other than himself and Snowden.

Seriously, am I expected to believe that? 


Imagine you're working at Jerck Pharmaceuticals as a research chemist, and your current project involves a male contraceptive compound.  You're currently focused on a particular organic compound (let's call it MCC) which, in tests on simian subjects, is resulting in rapid-onset testicular cancer.  In other animal testing MCC has caused cancerous tumors within other organs.  In fact, in no test creature has it shown a lack of mutagenicity, teratogenicity or carcinogenicity.  From a biological perspective, MCC is pretty much a dangerous, life-threatening compound.

In public statements to potential investors, shareholders, and regulatory entities, Jerck public affairs personnel have been asked about MCC and their response has been, without exception, to speak of its "great promise" and "future market leader" potential.

More particularly, Jerck has been seeking fast-track approval of MCC and you discover that in fast track application materials, MCC's negative animal testing results have been doctored to show no negative effects.  None.

You're concerned about this, so you take e-copies of your research showing MCC effects on various animals, load the copies onto a thumb drive, and leave work one day with that thumbie in your pocket.

You get in touch with a journalist who has a public reputation for raking muck and exposing problems.  Let's call him Ken Keencall.

Keencall takes your thumbie, downloads its contents onto his laptop, and promises to work up a rough draft and do some legwork related to getting this information "leaked" to various media outlets.

You check Keencall's Twitter account, and he has a few tweets bragging about some explosive new information that's going to be a "game-changer" and he hints that it could show corruption at FDA and unwarranted leverage from entities like Jerck over the new Obamacare national program.

You call Keencall and tell him you're available to help him make sense of the information he's got.  His reply:  "No worries, I am a pharmaceutical expert, I studied basic chemistry in 8th grade and I worked for 6 months at a dry cleaners when I was in high school, so I know all about chemical compounds, organic chemistry, and pharmacological metabolism.  I'm on top of it."

Two months go by and all you've seen is tweets and occasional blog entries from Keencall, all of them hinting at this "explosive revelation" he's working on.

Finally someone confronts him directly, both on his blog, and on twitter, about his constant tease.  "Unfortunately the decision on whether to release this information is out of my hands.  As soon as it's approved, I'll be passing it along, in all of its shocking revelation glory."

Another 3 months passes, with much of the same pattern obtaining.  Finally, there's a big headline at several media outlets, proclaiming that Ken Keencall has been tapped to be the lead journalist and editor at a brand-new "non-corporate, non-commercial" outlet which will focus, allegedly, on "critical dissident journalism".  The benefactor for this outlet is a man named Jacques Frottage-Bois, who made billions with a small European pharmaceutical outfit that designed, produced and sold a new Rx which helps men with erectile dysfunction.


Are you still believing Glenn Greenwald when he tells you that the Snowden data contains important revelations which will change the way we see our federal government, and invigorate a new era of enhanced individual civil liberties?


* If you're narcissistic enough, yeah -- that hero can be yourself.

Monday, November 4, 2013

bonus round

I think it's both puke-inducing and side-splittingly funny that Pseudo-Critic now postures as if he's always been critical of OCL.FN

As recently as 5 mos ago, pseudo-critic was on his knees giving OCL a routine blowjob with reacharound buttplugging.

Two years back, pseudo-critic would follow me around the blogs where I threw snark at poofty fake-leftist Views of Metrosexualia (i.e. Yozzyland, Simulated Beavers, Crackie Blowbar, Eeny Huelsch, Tarlzie Day-Viste) and harass me for my supposed "obsession" with OCL.  Pseudo-critic even visited here numerous times to tell me that I was "obsessed" with everyone whose lies I mocked.  Pseudo-critic enjoyed doing this from the handles of "chris" and "penis" and "fuckface chuck."

Here's the truth about pseudo-critic:  what he learned about OCL's lying self-aggrandizement, he learned from me.

He can't admit it.


Because he lusted after me when he suffered the delusion that I am gay, and was angry when he finally realized I am not gay.

He's a jealous wannabe-lover.

So naturally jealousy guides his perspective.

Sorry Charlie.  But you were on Glenn's dick between 2005 and mid-2013, and among your little clique of poodles who gossip about social structures and problems, that's about the average.

Meanwhile, I've been exposing his bullshit since 2005, when he kicked me off his UT blog for blasting some of his lies right out of the water.

And yes, he went back and deleted those exchanges, to protect his reputation.

Of course, you're finally catching on to that now.

Thanks to me.

But why did it take you 7 years to believe me, Charlie?

Oh, the pain of unrequited poofty love.

Maybe you should go rub one out.  Maybe that will make you feel better.


FN -- As displayed at his blog, and in his tweets.  It's the kind of weak-willed, lace-panties poofty snark that only a man-who-wishes-he-were-a-woman would be engaged in.  Grow up Charlie and get a grip on your sexual identity, rather than on your sexual prong.

the big OOPS

Do you know why the Fake Eddie Snowjob sideshow is pointless irrelevancy?

It's because in the post-9/11/2001 period of American government, paranoia reigns, with all sorts of data being considered vital to "national security".  Consequently, among all the data protected as "vital to national security," there is a whole lot of useless trivia, meaningless details, and a lot of emails about who's gonna win tonight's game and why does Elsie have such a hideous fingernail polish color?

Fake Eddie probably had plenty of access to the pointless details that are collected, but not ever taken seriously.

Fake Eddie didn't work the corner office at Ft Meade, and therefore didn't have access to the information that would have been really surprisingly revelatory.

Instead he was a low-level e-janitor, pushing an e-broom and swiffing an e-mop around, minding the muddy footprints.

He could have "stolen" all kinds of "secret data" to which he was exposed while working as a contractor.  Sure.  NSA security is known world-wide as loose and vulnerable.  Every NSA employee or contractor is given wide latitude to dig deeply into the data and root out what's really juicy and find things that make everyone vulnerable.  In fact, I'd wager Fake Eddie basically had NSA Director-level access to the highest security clearances used.  Of course he would.  He was hired to be a contractor after zero time in high-security situations.  He taught himself computer security, so therefore he's an expert on it and certainly can crack any security firewall made by the morons who are lesser talents.

He spent all his free time pre-NSA going to strip clubs where he threw countless $1 bills at dancers until one of them agreed to go on a date with him. 

She later became his girlfriend.

Strippers are known for their ability to suss out the genius of the crowd, the guy who will be a millionaire within 6 months.


Fake Eddie did the equivalent of a homeless dumpster-diver rummaging the trash bin behind Chez Pretentious.  He found some half-eaten Artisanal Artichoke Salad with Kale-Pectin Pomade.  He put it in a bag that formerly held a loaf pinched out by a fancy urban yupster's lapdog, and imagined he'd got a first-class take-out meal.

He contacted the pseudo-left's biggest Empty Suit, restaurant critic Bernard Haberle, who vouched for Fake Eddie's impeccable taste in take-out finery.  Haberle then wrote several pieces of food criticism in which he detailed the heroism of Fake Eddie's dumpster-diving, which Haberle assures us has resulted in the finest food artistry ever experienced by the world's most discerning palates.

On several different blogs, people mocked Haberle's puffery and snake oil salesmanship.

Haberle's response?

Why, of course, he waded into the ethereal food criticism comment universe, under numerous different fake identities, and accused the Haberle-haters of jealousy.

You people are just jealous of Bernard Haberle's refinement.

Signed, Random Alias of B Haberle Nos. 1 through 173.

We might wonder what a food critic does when he's not visiting restaurants for free meals that he will praise.  It only takes an hour to eat a dinner at a fine restaurant.  That leaves him 39 of 40 hours in his work-week to write up a review of that free meal.  Assuming he has grade-school literacy, the review may take him all of 2 hours.  So now he's got 37 of 40 hours free.

How does he spend that time?

Why, he trolls the internet looking for references to B Haberle, and leaving snarky comments after remarks which criticize one B Haberle.

I notice that you're just jealous of Bernard Haberle's taste.

Bernard Haberle has written 317 reviews.  What have you done?

When I take my morning Constitutional, the feces smell better than your shit.