Thursday, September 21, 2006

Dictators in Love

"Where do I begin to tell the story
Of how great a love can be
The sweet love story that is older than the sea. . ."

--Francis Lai,
"Theme from Love Story"

Lebanese President Emile Lahoud shares a moment with Iran's President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006


A six year old burned to death for Muslim honor.

These people must pay and will pay. There is absolutely no reason why they should do this. None. At. All.

The mass murder on September 11, 2001 exposed these vile fuckers and their alleged religion for what it really is: a sick and twisted fantasy mindset that wants its way with the rest of the world, that can't stand any of the kind of criticism Judiasm, Christianity, or Hinduism gets thrown at them daily, whose apologists will never, ever acknowledge how lethal it is, who knows nothing but outrage and hate and a burning desire to gloriously wade through rivers of blood spilled by infidels.

Islam will bring hell to the Earth should it ever succeed in its aims to restore the caliphate.

That cannot be allowed to happen.

There is a war on. Western civilization must win it. Dixi!

UPDATE: Got an e-mail from a friend this morning who said she visited the blog, then asked if I'm trying to get myself killed. I said no, I'm just fed up. As is, if you checked the news a couple days ago, the former Archbishop of Canterbury (h/t: Professor Reynolds).

Meanwhile, this uppity Socialist dingbat pimps a Chomsky book, keeps telling us he smells someone's farts, and says the word "devil" enough that it sounds like he's trying to come up with a new set of lyrics to a Charlie Daniels song.

Oh, For God's Sake

Sean Penn may play Einstein in film.

Last Refuge of a Schmuck

I have often thought that if a rational, fascist dictatorship were to exist, then it would choose the American system.
--Noam Chomsky
Oh, really?

James Lileks has a response to that. If you don't want to read about how most of his day was spent yesterday, scroll down to the boldface type that says "We arrive an hour early. . ." and read from there. And if you don't already, read Lileks everyday.

If I may swipe from a quote by Dr. Samuel Johnson: Constantly crying "Fascism!" is the last refuge of a schmuck.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Avast And What Ho!

(that's "What ho" as in "What's up," not "What ho stole my wallet?")

Today is Talk Like a Pirate Day! Go shivver somebody's timbers, me hearties!

Also: What ho, my lords 'n ladies! Prithee, click upon this very text and allow thine eyes to behold all works of Merrie Master Shakespeare rendered searchable by the ethereal device of which you now use.

Sorry, you can only limit your blue language search to words like "hell" and "damn." He never used any of the good ones. In his plays, at least. But "ass" yields 77 results. One of the best:

'Tis true; she rides me and I long for grass.
'Tis so, I am an ass. . .
--The Comedy of Errors,
Act II, Scene ii

Or what Hamlet said (also Act II, Scene ii):

Then came each actor on his ass. . .

Monday, September 18, 2006

How to Stare With Your Ears. . .

Here's what to do:

1. Dim whatever lighting you can.

2. Make sure your computer speakers are on. If you have crappy ones or you're using a laptop, plug in a set of headphones. Boost the sound just a little.

3. Get really comfortable.

4. Click here.

5. Let it load.

6. Close your eyes.

7. Listen.

It's a sample of Ken Nordine's Word Jazz. It's like nothing you've ever heard.

Realize your fantasies. . .

Sunday, September 17, 2006

Time for an Intervention

Islam, you have a problem. Those with eyes not blinded by bullshit appeasement and codependency see it.

Many years ago, I knew a guy who was an artist and a recovering alcoholic. He always depicted himself in his paintings as a Pierrot, an object of scorn and ridicule to him. I remember his Pierrot's eyes: rectangular and black, lifeless, unsettling and scary. The body was boxlike, all angles and sharp corners. In one of his paintings, one Pierrot looked as if he were ice skating down a slope, one arm extended, carrying another Pierrot on his back. The surrounding colors were green mixed with red and blue, but they got darker and turned into complete blackness in the direction the Pierrot was aiming.

His name for the painting: Codependency.

A major world religion is sliding quickly into a Hell of its own making, one it wants the rest of the world to join, where no woman is safe, where children are brought up to believe that killing themselves is the highest honor there is, where you are either taxed or executed for not subscribing to their fantasy.

Riding on its back, the appeasers in all their forms: mainstream media, peace activists, apologist politicians, conspiracy theorists trying like hell to divert everyone's attention for the real reason this nation was attacked on September 11, celebrities who are suddenly experts in stuff other than how to get their faces on Entertainment Weekly, and this group.

In this post I compared a lot of what's going on in this fight with Batman: The Dark Knight Returns. And I mentioned the final fight Batman has with the Joker in a dark tunnel of love, and where this fight we're in will end up.

I remember the codependency painting. Where the Pierrot was heading.

Down into someplace dark.

La Vida Movieola

Clips from more than 60 movies spliced 'n sync'd together with soundtrack provided by Ricky Martin's "La Vida Loca."

Must see TV for your weekend is here.

You're welcome.