Friday, June 17, 2016

undeveloped brain, immature cognition, delusions of omniscience

Hillaryite Colleague said, I don't understand why you don't talk and blog more about motherfucking rightwingers. I said, what would you have me say?

Gosh, that Chalupa has the most subtle satire ever, doesn't he?  Referencing a question to him about why he doesn't ping Repthuglican Insane Whackjobs more, when in truth that's all he's ever done on his blog:  blame the RIGHTWING ASSHOLES WHO MADE-MAKE-WILL FOREVER MAKE JEFF POPOVICH'S LIFE IMPERFECT!

Then we get another HAH HAH SEE I CATFISHED YOU, OXY! "revelation" talking about his "true politics" --

Beware wannabe (when retired, house paid off, pension secure) anarchist propagandist and animal rights terrorist.

Look, he's "mocking" anarchists by saying it's only something you do when fantasizing about retirement.  Clearly, the best path is Leftist Bernie Sanders Support or Left-M/L-Green(ish) Jill (((Stein))) Support.  That way, you're not anyone's dupe.

Except when you are, for 56 years of Earth time and 41 years of semi-adult time.


Meow-Meow Cat Meme blogging doesn't make you anything but a poofter, Jeffrey.  Good job, now you're a 3d string Jake Fuckmybackdoor.  Who himself is a 4th string Michael Chabon.  Who, in turn, is a cheap, 5th rate (((anxious Jewish schlub))) attempt at F. Scott Fitzgerald.

None of this should bother you, since you didn't make Varsity Soccer in HS or college.

Always no better than 4th string, Jeff Popovich shouts loudly to tell the world, "I'm a SERIOUS athlete!"


That's why, instead of playing any sport whatever, Jeff is just a fan of "pro" sports to an obsessive degree, worrying to the point of teeth-grinding-when-sleeping about whether the hockey season lasts too long, the baseball season not long enough, the football season inconveniently overshadowing the footy-ball / soccer season.  All of this, because of RIGHTWING ASSHOLES TRYING TO MAKE JEFF'S LIFE A LIVING HELL.


Hah hah hah, sniffed Chalupa's disembodied voice nowhere within sighting of the stuffed miniature chihuahua dog typically offered as proxy in lieu of holographic projection.

I've been mocking YOU all along, and you DID NOT SEE IT!  HAH HAH HAH!

now loudly, louder with each word, screamed the little stuffed animal.


Say hello, Walter Mitty.

Say hello.

-- Pawl Bear-Ur, whose spell-check program sometimes misfires


Harold Caidagh said...

Pablo, what's it called when someone has no insights of their own, and relies on the feat of relaying another's view as derivative "proof" of own insight?



Fake profundity?

Ersatz authenticity?

Bogus knowledge?

Clambering for social status among people who are equally as ignorant and pretentious?

Proof of the need to die, or at least kill off that portion of one's thinking which causes all of the foregoing?

or is it simply

the diary of Jeff Popovich, who can't move past peer group/social status traumas from age 15?

Chalupa, Lord Garth of the internet's Elba II said...

Listen, if I've been a totally shitty "poet" for about 30 years, and a nimrod Marxist Feminist since I first wooed Earthgirl with my Derrida/Lacan/Adorno/"Che" monologue fueled by lousy pot shitty beer and a tentpole in my trousers, that means I'm in with the Kool Kids now, and I don't have to know anything about anything except

1) who are the coolest, most subversive marxist writers & poets

2) which musicians claim, for $$$ sake, to be socialist/anarchist/marxist flashpoints

3) the manifold ways of blaming "right wing" ideas and people for the fact that we're not all living like I saw in The Jetsons as a kid, which I assumed was Our Future

4) a complete lack of identity known to myself, because I've spent a life accommodating The Matriarchy thanks to my Frankfurt School-trained educators of noble American public schools telling me that unless we create a Matriarchy collective of M/L feminists we are going to die at age 17 of typhus and diphtheria and during those awful 17 years will be subjected to all sorts of evil misogynistic bigotry, patriarchal homophobia, and various other kinds of progress-halting REACTIONARY behavior and thought

5) reductio ad absurdum for the win, BRO!

Karl Franz Ochstradt said...

Left alone to his mimeographic devices, Chalupa began trying to mock himself for Ultimate Meta-Satire credibility among the Frilly Blouse Brigade/Transgender Scouting Troop members and writers of the pseudo-intelligentsia, whom and which Chalupa calls "Blegsylvania," in an "ironic" nod to his grisly, dirt-eating forebears who, despite all hagiographic wishes residing in Chalupa's noisy, rattling and empty noggin, were not PhD scholars in Post-Patriarchal Communal Societies of the Near Future.

Unfortunately, this tactic merely dragged him further into the existential vortex of self-hatred, rather than bumping him down the road of personal growth toward the waypoint of What An Idiot I Have Been for Most of My Pseudo-Adult Life.

Chalupa, Lord Garth of the internet's Elba II said...

Why are you obsessed with the idea of being my counselor, Oxy?

Charles F. Oxtrot said...

Silly stuffed bioaccessory neoFeline Chalupa,

You're the one who has a PUBLIC blog seeking PUBLIC admiration for your PUBLICLY STATED sociopolitical misunderstandings, which you offer as wise learned genius insight.

In that capacity, you are just like the entire fleet of Frilly Blouses and Transgender Scouts that used to molest keyboards (when not molesting the arses of young boys) for the purpose of proving their Gay Feminist XY Word-Artiste street/net cred.

So by examining your sad pathetic behavior, we also examine that of the great majority of uber-leftist pseudo-genius Fagtopia writers and non-thinkers whose disappearance from Blogville and evacuation from the (not really)OUTpost known to you as Blegsylvania seems to be the fulcrum on which your self-knowledge conundrum continues to see-saw.

Karl Franz Ochstradt said...

I can't wait to hear someone reference John Scalzi's genius, or PZ Myers brilliance, or Hugo Schwyzer's magnanimity, or Jacob Bacharach's "bravery" in writing about his own sexual debauchery in a barely hidden roman-a-clef/bildungsroman/autobiography with changed names.

The best insight you can have when trying to make sense of the world is to abandon what's known to you from your own life, and assume that some swishy fag, either closeted or GAILY OUT-n-PROUD HONEY!, holds the keys to the existential kingdom.

The only reason to go looking for wisdom from the loose anal sphincter crowd is because you want to SCHWING to the other side of the batter's box and start playing boys, sexually speaking, rather than women.


Chalupa, Lord Garth of the internet's Elba II said...


I'm a planet, named after a b-52s' song said...






Charles F. Oxtrot said...

She was almost sane the other day, but you know how it is. Lack of stability and absence of boundaries during childhood usually results in schizophrenic self-entitled behavior.

Chalupa, Lord Garth of the internet's Elba II said...


Conclusive proof that Oxy is a homophobic reactionary who wants to murder gays. Chris Floyd agrees with me here.

some swishy fag

Same conclusive proof re "Karl Franz Ochstradt", also proof that he is Oxy despite different handle used.

(when not molesting the arses of young boys)

Proof that Oxy is in the closet and wants to be a NAMBLA member and fulfill the NAMBLA mission.

Face it, Oxy. You're projecting onto me. I'm actually a genius, and your'e actually cretinous gay man who can't stand his own urges toward men.

Charles F. Oxtrot said...

Right, Jeffrey. Exactly.

So that means you're actually a Vietnamese person who dines on the feral cats you pretend to shelter & feed, and you're a Right Wing Namese rather than a Left Wing Congese.

And it means you like to fuck the cats before you kill, undress, cook and eat them.

And it means a whole lot of other stuff about you, which you project onto me.


And you are trolling ME, rather than any of us here examining and discussing what are YOUR massive flaws.

True, isn't it?

Yes. I thought so.

Still being the flea, while pretending you're a dog and while accusing this blog's writers of being hairless felines.


Harold Caidagh said...

Chalupa thinks Chuck is Ottis Toole.

I think what we need to worry about is the latent Carl Panzram lurking in Chalupa's psyche.

Also, can't we get back to talking about how Chalupa likes to be back-doored by the French bulldog named Binny? And how he pretends he's giving Binny the brush-off while beggin Binny for a reacharound?