Blissy's Song -- 5 (September 13 -- 14) by Feather Touch
Chapt. 5
I can't resist teeing off on Dan Rather. Time and time again he stumbles on about how everything is speculative, tentative and alleged, then he goes on the air, prime time, with stories about a truck full of explosives under the George Washington Bridge, mentions it repeatedly, then drops it without obvious explanation. Emblematic. The fussy obsession with making exactly the right tones and cadences of political correctness come out of the mouth, while repeating moronic rubbish day in and day out.
The panic buyers of the Midwest. America's heartland, as they keep saying until you just gotta move. People out guzzling gas on the news, then getting pissed off when the price goes up to five dollars a gallon.
They're singing "God Bless America" because they don't know the words to the anthem. They're holding prayer vigils because they are morons. (Shouldn't they be blaming god? They're never going to blame themselves.)
To continue with my thermo nuclear pilgrimage, Russia should be included because the people there are so unhappy, anyway. Japan can be counted on to destroy itself. That leaves pretty much China and offhand places like Australia and India to share the planet.
While this story started out as a Stephen-King derived future fantasy, the real thing has been dropped in our lap. It involves the fantasy I don't think I have the skill to write. Essentially, the theme is Who will survive? When socialists stop receiving the largess the government owes them, they get mad. Very mad. Mad people form into groups. If the educational level of the group is below the seventh grade, the group riots. That we happened to be going into winter, rather than summer, may reduce the initial violence, but denying rights to liberals is a catastrophe, so we're dealing with a forgone conclusion.
See, that's no story. A disaster happens, the million dollar rescue vehicle doesn't show up, things get ugly off of the rights being violated. Everything collapses in rioting, looting and massive arson so you loose your infrastructure. Those left alive, instead of having the opulence of this fiction, have nothing and can't get near anything else. Greasy bush campgrounds are not much good for locating readable fiction, and starvation is a long and tedious process with characters unlikely to be interested in any diversions, much less those appropriate to Nifty. I did toy with the idea of the Minnesota lake country, `till I remembered the flies, and the bayou country, which probably would sustain a small population on an extended basis until they were discovered by those out to get their share. Other than a few bleak exceptions, it's pretty much scratch city when it comes to human survival.
If you read "C-Camp" you know I'm an avid inventor. My latest concept is the Jew meter. We put it one mile north of the bomb pits. When the wind blows the stench north, we measure it and make book on how long it is, after the stink reaches Park Avenue, before the kike lawyers suddenly realize they might not need to examine that last tweezer-full of dust, in the name of justice, after all.
In other words, at what point will common sense, herein represented by the miasma of 5,000 rotting human remains, override the compulsive need of knitting the last pick and splitting the last hair of their beloved evidence? With a birthright of sitting in a soft chair and earning lots of money for arguing and litigating, this is bound to be a fight to the finish. It is going to be so perfect. Imagine Woody Allen, Seinfeld or Fran Dresser rising from their silk in fetid air. An when the flies come in May, where will they be then? (I think the Eastside may run out of Upper, and, just for a laugh, the richer the Jew, the higher he lives; the higher he lives, the harsher and longer the stink. You know, just between you and me, there may be something to this god thing, after all. From a clinical point of view, I do find myself wondering at the possible health effects of breathing what will, for a year or more, amount to an aerosol of liquefied human flesh. Sounds like a vector to me. I repeat my suggestion to pump in lime slurry and cap the tombs, as fast as possible.
Too bad Nifty doesn't have a humor section. So much material. Those who have caused such vast misery for so long and soon you may be able to kill one by saying A pound of lox for you today, Mrs. Lipshitz? [My long term readers know I drop in a tidbit from the spelling checker once in awhile. Lipshitz offers only one choice, `Dipshits.' I honestly don't know if I added it, or it came from the factory.]
Anyway, humor. I thought of a hummer when I saw the second jet hit. "Eat your heart out, Steven Spielberg!" It went through my mind even faster than I realized the guy's out of business. Kaput. As I just mentioned, they've pulled the previews of "Spider Man" merely because the twin towers were in the background. Right now, I'm wondering how long before Jay gets back on. Vomit in the penthouse with Jews more miserable than they're born. Where to place that on a graph with a bottom line that reads no funny, no money.
Surely I'm not the only humorist in the world. They, Jay's writers, usually out-gag me a hundred to one, but they play stick ball while my homers often approach five hundred feet. Looking at it from here, now the thirteenth, I'd place an early litmus test on whether or not "The Tonight Show" ever comes back on.
Speaking of Jew boxes, not that I was, they're hyping some piece of dirt with academy award thespians in it, and `academy award' has one of those little Rs in a circle after it. Oscar probably has one, too. Yes, the power of the lawyer extends to the very movie poster. No wonder their mothers are so proud.
Eleven thousand body bags. I suppose different people see things in different ways, but from what I saw I would be surprised if more than a sandwich was ever needed in one place at one time.
More surreal than the now-you-see-them, now-you-don't jets, are the commercials still playing. The happy Jewess running down her dock and jumping into her pond, all on top of a prescription pill. As if! For awhile there I was thinking the whole thing would be worth it if it got Billy May off television, forever. Miss Cleo, Billy May and the scuttling Jew with the big book of free stuff. I'll bet all the ham in Holland this scut gets eaten alive by his advertising bills, and, oh to have a chance to listen to him wail. Of course, American psychology having long since passed the sewer test (it can be smelled in a sewer), maybe all you socialists will order fifty million copies of how you can get free money to write a novel, and he'll end up Schlomo Gates. At its most basic level, the reason you deserve to die is that you tolerated the apparatus with question marks on his coat for one day in your fucked up lives. I can't get inside that kind of mind. To be so mad for money you'd try to make a personality out of yourself? Wouldn't it be more dignified to eat rat poison and sleep it off?
I suppose it's what's known as a paradigm shift. These ads have appeared bizarre and frivolous to me, for years. Now all of you see them the way I always have.
I do think a miracle was tragically averted in these events. What if the three planes had crashed in the woods, and the one that was headed for the Capitol Building had scored in the red? Imagine getting rid of Trent Lott, Arlen Specter, What's-her-face Clinton and Orin Hatch, all at one fell swoop. That, by thunder, would be some shrimp on the barbie! Teddy? I mean how cool would that have been? The entirety of the contemptuous-beyond-words congress, just fucking outta there. Geeks and freaks, dedicated to seeing that the other party never gets credit for anything good. We might have stood a chance. But no such luck, they're still babbling, it's almost a frenzy by Friday, Rudy ahead of the pack and demonstrating a marathon form that belies his cancer. This is why the English hate foreigners, they're too emotional. They tear up at the drop of a Trade Center and lose sight of the ball. They should be lively and making jokes and telling us whether it would be better to rebuild in situ or de-urbanize their metro area by mandating a move to a twenty mile perimeter, with aggressive use of eminent domain. A new Athens to arise thereon by July fourth, 2007. Instead they are stuck in a groove calling everybody heroes, which is a fine tribute to the little private who charged a tank to save his squad. Again, that's why we old Yankees dislike foreigners, and for no other reason I can think of, offhand.
Interesting sound bite a day or two before the eleventh. Three of the top British clergy waving the white flag, understanding and acknowledging that the church was finished. Period. I don't think the slight hint of nostalgia was faked, nor their enthusiasm for a more varied future for the average person than they offered. In a way it was poignant, because one of the very few religious organizations I respect is the classical English church out of Jane Austen. Fetes, jumble sales and a whole lot of stuff, with no praying over the dirt you've done, and that's a real church. Anglo Saxon, dig? The others I respect are the Amish and especially the Mennonites. How they must be laughing at us, ever think about that? Of course, they could be a venue for a survival epic, except America is a country with twenty million pistols so it stands to reason that if socialism can't come up with the soup, then soup a man must find in his own way.
There's a saying that's pretty much elemental to soldiering. The good trooper doesn't sit when he can lie down, doesn't stand when he can sit, doesn't run when he can walk, and so on. The pictures Thursday morning are of thousands of rescue workers standing. There seems to be no set of tents erected, no food service, just several hundred men, dressed in very heavy clothing, standing around. If the dog faces have to deal with an officer corpse like that, my fellow Americans, you are in for a long slide down a thin blade.
Speaking of which, them that's done this deed can be looked at in only one way. Not as a filament, but as part of a blade. The evidence is that maybe some fifty of their devotees were involved in the September massacre. Pictures from the mid-east show well dressed, well groomed men and women cheering and yelling in glee. Do you get the picture? If you don't, listen to their representatives. Process and procedure. Technicalities always to do with what I all blobs and plunketts of information. How they differ from a Jew crawling a mile behind a rich man to catch the first scent of his wind, I do not know. Blobs and Plunketts. A good example is OJ's blood sample. Remember how the fact VanAder had carried it in his pocket became a cause celebre? That was a blob for Sheck the Jew. An example of a plunkett would be the Egyptian pilot diving his plane into the ocean. At little, tiny event -- fact - that got masses flaming and foaming at the mouth, based on outright lies in Freedom Of The Press.
Princeton will say one thing, and Harvard will phrase it with two more academic harrumphs per paragraph, but will either of them, or anyone else, tell the truth? We've seen the razor of the bleeding edge, so how, since these are all factual statements, can you come up with anything other than absolute thermo-nuclear retaliation? For example, if we try a conventional war against Afghanistan, we, the infidel, will be invading the land of a brothers-against-cousins legacy going back to camel one. How many newspaper articles will it take to turn the Muslim world upside totally down, and they're on the world's leading oil patch. My advise to every young man is to savagely resist participation in the proverbial land war in Asia. All you've got at your back are ring-knocking fools and show planes as toothless as the gramps in the famous Air Force photo. Insist we use hydrogen bombs, the biggest we have. Get the Russians to use some of theirs, the English, the French. Send in the finest camera planes possible, with Imax equipment. They gave us a show, let's return the favor. But if you do a land war, it will deteriorate into a nuclear conflict in a few years, anyhow, with, by then, no chance of survival. We should drop a hydrogen bomb on Dublin, to show we are not racist. One on the separatists in Spain. Wipe terrorism out, or it will wipe us out, if it hasn't, already.
Talk about fools in one place. The current Jewbox is, I suppose, Washington Cathedral. Couldn't they just get one more plane through? Wasting time and energy being sure the black one is there, and yarmulkes are seen, and a Muslim as allowed to drone. They are simply a collection of lifeless hacks who managed to bring us to the brink of destruction without any help from Laden and Associates. Meantime, one sad little picnic tent has been erected at their beloved ground zero. They may be praying for their heroes, which I doubt, but anything resembling a well run operation seems to remain past the horizon. It bodes you extreme ill.
You need a king, kids, otherwise you're going to snivel yourselves to death, slowly, knowing it's coming. Verily are you upon the "Titanic." Yeah, you need a king, but I need you like an Eskimo needs an ice cube. Regrettably for us all, I do have a conscience, so I figure with my breeding, reading and brains and all, plus having focused enough to prove myself at the highest level of the noblest profession, besides hooking for your kids, I would become the greatest mass-murderer in history if I turned my back on you without at least setting out my views for the consumption of the common man.
"Let us assume an attitude of prayer," begins one unctuous drone. They've been to their god hammering for an hour or more. A black lady (unless it's Maxine) with a great display of red plastic hat. They have something where she comes from called `hattitude.' A splash of color in a dismal scene.
Jew slop in its finest hour, everyone saying exactly the same thing as everyone else, just as does the Hebrew repeat identical Torah a thousand pointless years at a time. In summary, it is difficult to tell whether that particular cathedral full is more loathsome than preposterous, or vice versa. Of course the real joke is that if they'd just stay there and pray for the next year or so, we might stand a chance.
Your not-very-funny Catch-22 is that I could only be published if I came up via Yale and The Village Voice. In other words, thought within an eighth of a degree what everyone else thought. (Debate over the last thirty years: "Which is grander, the Jew or his socialism?") Having decided to live happily, I missed el barco and ended up claving with the tiburons. That may not be good Spanish, but it is what happened. Diving with the sharks, and ending up on the loftiest peak of the highest mountain. Seems to me, that's what you must be looking for, but, no one will publish me with a ten foot pole. Perfect. The message goes clear and full, king to subjects. A historical first.
Kenya, good luck, by the way. If anyone from Africa thinks they're going to win the next New York Marathon, they've got to be kidding themselves. Hey, that's a Leno quality gag. Look, ma, I just wrote my first gag..
I am so glad I'm me. American children tend to be ugly lumps, inside and outside, so I've always been glad I never had any, but now I wake up envying myself and fall asleep envying myself.
One laugh of a personal nature. My brother served in Afghanistan in the Peace Corps. I suppose thousands have, but I still wonder if he mightn't have pissed someone off so badly one thing led to another, you know, like that butterfly wing adage they trot out every time there's an El Nino or hurricane. Yeah, I suppose you'd have to know the family. Sorry.
Talk about aping your betters. The first plane in three days just flew over. We must be doing something right if little Belize follows our groundings.
All the soldiers have ugly haircuts. Super sidewalls with a little poof on top. Nothing brisk about the service. An altar girl with two boy monkeys. The symbolism just flows into the keyboard. The one person the president shakes hands with on his way down the isle is the Jew Lieberman, just to cap a disgusting spectacle with a loathsome gesture.
What the president should have done (I mean anything beats mumbling) before or after his call to the Pittsburg steelworkers, was pull out a map of the US and show how tiny the involved areas are. Second, he should have at least reminded us of Chicago, Kobe, Hamburg and Berlin, and that coming out of the ashes is not only possible, but can actually be magnificent. All the chief executive officer has done in his life is sneer at people with less money than he was born with, and that doesn't leave much time for reading.
Oh, I've got an arrow for Big Ballmer, too. Jeff or Steve, I forget for the moment, was prince amongst students; possibly the greatest that ever graduated from Yaad City. You know what he did? Went to Hollywood and tried to write screenplays. I would not trade "Creative Camp" and this work, or any of the others, for one billion dollars. I'll bet Mr. Ballmer would.
Even with a remote, it's hard to keep up with Rudy. Wherever I surf, there he is. Imagine going camera mad at a time like this? One small silver lining. They seem to have moved away from the front of the world's ugliest clock. Well, they're ugly people in an ugly city, so why shouldn't the clock be ugly (already)?
One good thing about having me as king, no one will ever want to interview me. In fact, during WWII there was a strict rule that no incoming telegrams should ever be destroyed. Churchill not only destroyed one, but confessed to it in writing. It was from Himmler. Not very likeable, our Heinrich, but, as the English say, there it is. Your cross to bear.
I've heard of aspirin free, caffeine free, sugar free and one, two, free; so I know about stuff like that. What I'm wondering, and the reason I bring it up, is whether I can write a chapter for Nifty that is sex free.
One comment, while I think of it. If they make a new edition of the twin towers, they should built them lighter. The fact that they withstood the impact demonstrates colossal over-engineering. And they collapsed, anyway. If you say, yeah, but their strength allowed thousands to escape, you're not trucking in the same world I am. Next time, obviously, the planes will hit at the base, so how long they stand will be immaterial. If this had happened on the eleventh, the pictures would have been of twenty-five thousand people jumping from each tower as the smoke and heat climbed. While such imagery would be a windfall for those who market disaster footage, I'm not sure that is a good reason to build an over-costly building..
Another dig at the religious. A month or so ago I happened to surf through one of my Mexican channels. They had a four year old spouting gospel, and I do mean hammer and tongs. Wailing wouldn't even be the world. Four. A-crankin'. I saw that and the whole sham focused once again. Talk about an icon. Here's a child too young even for my enlightened mind, walloping the gospel like a machine. The orotund gesticulation, and unctuously fervent delivery. Every once in awhile the four-year-old boy would drop a line, but it was easy to see in his face how much those beatings hurt, so he was prompt about picking himself up and resuming the litany at the top of his lungs. The doddering dirt kisser, and a four year old. bonded in Catholic heritage. How sick does that make you?
One thing they haven't done yet in New York is to come up with a designated garbage wall. I mean they had one in Oklahoma, and Di had one. Flowers with their plastic wrapping, and of course teddy bears and scribblings. There really should be tons of it. If you are going to be perceived in a favorable light by your Jewish masters, you must learn how go gout huge emotions when the media tells you to, and not forget the flowers and their plastic collars which last forever.
You're sweepings, you're dreck, you are piggish and greedy beyond mortal comprehension. You deserve to be savagely punished and should feel lucky that someone else is up to task, because you're a bit too spindly to carry out the task yourselves.
Question. Will Hollywood still use theatrical smoke to create atmosphere? Something to contemplate on you next visit to Starbucks.
Important. Should we survive the year, I would humbly request we do not make a national holiday of September Eleventh. The kids are just back in school. Let `em get into the rhythm. We've got a nonsense number of holidays, as is, plus, you have overpaid firemen going to rescue the very people who have brought civilization to the brink of disaster, irrespective of recent events, in neither case, groups worthy of incidental local memorials. Our puling, weeping and hand-wringing over Waco, Oklahoma City, the "Cole," and each and every pothole in the road has caused five thousand casualties in a few hours, plus property losses. There is no reason to think Colin Powell at his microphone will act as a deterrent. Now they've got, honest to god, a monk-in-regalia on CNN. Is he a symbol of a Dark Age to come? Sure looks like something to do with death, but maybe that's history talking. In any event, he's kind of cute, so Father Coughlin, as it turns out his name is, might be fair game when I get my gang sorted out and we get back to the future.
An insurance maven just estimated that the passengers all gone bye-bye will be claiming, well, nothing, not to put too fine a point on it, but their estates? Yeah, a billion dollars per. I swear I saw a lawyer smile. You are so amazingly sick. It beggars all the talent in the world to even sketch the outline of your fat, selfish, institutional, robotic greed.
Classic counterpoint keep emerging with the passage of time. Hollywood is dumping left and right. Now picture a you-know-what kind of lawyer grilling a defendant with the peasant logic which the tribe has never outgrown. "Defendant Smith" he roars, "if you were innocent, why have you changed the design of the framus since the accident which injured my client?"
If Hollywood is innocent, why are they pulling plugs faster than a man running the green mile? A codicil of this is the discovery game. If I accuse Hollywood of damaging the national interest, to prove my case, I'd have to produce every film made to provide exculpatory evidence. If one frame was missing from any of the forty-thousand-odd films, that would be the highly prized blob or plunkett, and there would be no trial because the evidence would be insufficient.
Now some moron at the Pentagone is wearing a Stars and Stripes necktie. Greg Duehring. In the back of my mind I wonder how much terrorist magnetism was generated by Pat in the Hat. Buchanan looking like the cat in the book, so bizarre it had to attract someone's attention. When folk start wearing the flag in the manner of Gucci it does not take a Michelangelo to figure out the probable fate of said culture.
How big is the window of opportunity? There is one, probably about the size a slim, fit person could dive through. A new focused and serious attitude that could replicate the rebuilding of Chicago, Kobe and other trashed cities. To my eye, and I've only spent a week or less on Manhattan, it looks as if there is a serpentine of older, smaller buildings working north a mile or more from the approximate site of the twin tower plaza. My vision is of a duplication of the Columbian exposition held in Chicago in 1892. It was a melding of ancient architectures with a pool running down the middle. People raved about it and in the end tens of millions visited. It was torn down at the end of the exposition. I would miss all the brownstones that would have to come down, they are the heart and soul of the city, and cannot be equaled many places in the world. But a mile or two-mile concourse of Greek and Roman variations would be a worthy replacement, and obviously, a hundred times safer. It should be repeated that this is a small window. If the burned-out hacks now running the show continue to have their way, exactly like a bunch of fuddy-duddy old admirals, we will doom out on issues of evidence, security, privacy, process and procedure. So far, by engaging in childish theatrics at the airports, and obsessing like a bunch of school girls at a spider farm, they get a grade of F. Any window of opportunity does not include these oldsters who are responsible for bringing this nonsense down on our heads, in the first place.
There is the mentality of the lynching to discuss. If somebody commits an atrocious crime, hang someone. Why? For the deterrent effect. If you don't know for sure who did the deed, hang the worst person in town. My guess is that a town with an alert vigilante force was a quiet and happy town. It is the same principle used by the English navy. Flog a man around the fleet. Means just what it says.
A ferocious attack by the US against any source of Muslim malignancy is the same as any other. They don't understand our dithering with papers and noisy lawyers any more than I do. Why strain their intelligence and frustrate them? Attack with thermonuclear weapons and stand hair trigger ready to repeat the process if anyone so much as gets off a toilet too fast or looks in the direction of the oil facilities.
I mentioned the super-polygraph somewhere in this work or the previous book. It was featured on DWTV out of Berlin. The machine is a computer that can be run by anyone. To render judgment, a few seconds of video are needed of the head and shoulders, any angle, any reasonable distance, taken on the spot or a hundred-years old. From the imagery a subject can be characterized with one-hundred percent accuracy.
The machine, or, more accurately, software package, was developed to see if it was possible to test for incipient Alzheimer's disease. It vastly exceeded expectations in this respect and so was tried on other medical subjects with equally impressive results. When it was used as a polygraph, it not only scored a hundred percent, it could detect efforts made to fool it. It is useable in group situations. If several people meet in an airport, it will accurately characterize every one of them.
I don't know the proper name for this system, but super-polygraph should do the trick for now. It was in deep beta two years ago, when I saw the extended documentary, twice, as I remember. The testing had boiled down to seeing if the device was ever wrong, and at the time it never had been.
Being one hundred percent accurate allows the system to be used in court, like DNA and finger prints.
I have never heard this machine mentioned on US television. My supposedly paranoid reasoning for this is that American lawyers would not tolerate technology that would put them out of business. Since I count myself desperate to put them out of business, I favor implementation of the super-polygraph down to the Seven Eleven level. Obviously, this machine could be coupled with digital identification packages to offer a one-two punch. The inventors of the system make no other claim than that it is flat-out Big Brother. In my opinion, a big brother might come in handy. Definitely in my shopping basket, along with T-cells and cloning.
Robert DiNiro is the second of my academy award, trade-marked actors. What a total asshole he must feel he is to be so packaged. I would think it would look tacky and officious, even to a Jew, but then the Jews of the RIAA managed to alienate, for life, fifty-million music lovers, so there is just no figuring these freaks. Part of what makes them so utterly dangerous is the depth of their capacity to be stupid.
They're done, that's the main thing. Kaput. Out of Hollywood by virtue of a stunning wave of bankruptcies for big spenders with small brains. Off seventh Avenue, because now we know the major fashion houses can't tell their branded product from knock-offs retailing for one tenth the price. I don't think New America is going to go for that. Lawyers are approaching the end of their pendulum. After the chaos of the election and their dithering over Bad September, the public will finally get enough of a bellyful of their Jewish ways to excise them from our nations of laws, not of men. Find me a throne, and I'll get rid of half of them my first day as sovereign, and half of them, the second day.
"Creative Camp," if you haven't had the considerable pleasure, goes on at some additional length on these and sundry topics and attitudes. That book continually reminds you that all this is your fault, not mine.
We have the greatest opportunity to shine in world history, but if we follow liberals, unionists, Jews, and Democrats, we will die out and take the entire planet with us. Told you I was a gag writer, but, be reasonable, they can't all be funny.
I'll apologize to David for two divergent chapters. I'm sure he understands. I can't quite see my way back to Brenda and friends at the moment.
I have actually been to the World Trade Center. It was a Sunday, just after the towers were completed but before they were occupied. The world's most spectacular ghost town, with not a soul but my girlfriend and I on those Sunday morning sidewalks.
A one inch diameter rope hung from the tip-top of the building down to a stanchion on the ground. I un-cleated it and ran back in forth sending giant traveling arches five hundred feet up the side of the building. Only dropping huge boulders down the abandon shafts around Cripple Creek was as much fun. (The wells had sturdy covers so John and I could get two-hundred pounders to the middle of the shaft. After we tipped them in, there would be a faint whistling subsiding quickly to absolute silence, unbroken.)
If this event could just get religion out of our lives, the thousands will not have died in vein. Surely, at some point, the emperor must be seen as the naked charlatan he is. Pat Robertson is practically choking on the word `god,' and he's made millions of the dude. Religion is over, get it out of the way. One last day wasting time on prayer, then let's flush it. After that you can pretend I'm god, and I'll write for you in mortal script trying to prove I'm not.
Oh, if you want a clear example of genius I'll give you one. Instead of allowing no knives onboard aircraft, issue each passenger a bayonet. Sounds silly, but it would be foolproof.
So, we'll get back to Wayne and company in the next chapter -- if there is one. Dum de dum-dum. Meantime, feed liberals poison.
Posted by Thomas@btl.net.
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xxx