Wednesday, June 27, 2018

Galactic Housekeeping #5

"Democracy; The Fools have a right to vote. Dictatorship; The Fools have a right to rule." -- Bertrand Russell

Your Overlord performed his duty as a citizen yesterday and voted in New York's 11th Congressional District Primary, or as I now like to refer to it, "The Race to the Bottom Underneath the Bottom between Two Bottoms".

The New York GOP put the "fun" in dysfunctional. Proof of this dictum is to be found in what it vomits forth for election in this state.

In this particular case, our primary race was between:

Michael Grimm, former Congressman, FBI Agent and Marine, convicted tax cheat.

Dan Donovan, shanty Irish shyster who has been around Staten Island politics for so long the mold that has formed upon him with the passage of time has itself grown mold.

I found myself thinking, as I held my nose and filled in the little circle, "What a fucking shame they can't both lose."

I once had the distinct...I hesitate to call it a "pleasure"...more like "an experience" to have met Grimm during his last bid for re-election (before he was found guilty of hiring illegal aliens and not paying taxes on them, like just about every other small business owner in New York). I have met few human beings in my lifetime that gave me the impression of desperately wanting to be someplace else. Mind you, this is a campaign event taking place in a supermarket parking lot; he's there voluntarily, for his own benefit, glad-handing people he obviously does not wish to mix with, avoiding eye contact and avoiding answering any questions. When he did answer one, you felt as if the effort of asking was wasted, for nothing but gibberish spewed forth in response.

If Grimm took an IQ test, I get the impression the result could not be measured or expressed in integers.

Donovan, so far as I know, is supposed to be a "good man" and was our District Attorney here in Dante's Ninth Circle of Hell (with a free ferry!) for dog's ages before replacing Grimm in Congress, but he ran one of the most dishonest campaigns that I can ever recall witnessing. Now, when I say "dishonest", I don't mean to imply that Mr. Donovan is a liar...on the contrary...I wish to write it in letters 500' high across the sky. After all "lawyer".

I will spare you the sordid details, but during one debate Donovan denied agreeing to help Grimm obtain a Presidential pardon from President Trump. Grimm asked (paraphrasing) "So, I didn't stand in your living room and you didn't offer to get me a pardon?" with a genuineness that Grimm normally doesn't display (being one of those people, like Obama, who apparently gives the game away when he wanders off his carefully-scripted persona) that I would bet a lung on it being true.

A pox on both. New York State has the absolute WORST Congressional delegation in American History, beginning with the fucktard Schumer and oozing all the way down to these two idiots.

We now return you to our regularly-scheduled program...

Stuff has been happening and along with it a ton of junk. There has been much miscellany and an awful lot of crap. Why, there's been so much shit happening that I can't keep up with the flotsam and jetsam. In no particular order:

1. Podcasting

Last week I had the genuine pleasure of showing some Facebook friends around New York, one of whom actually reads my garbage. Locally, it turns out that when I'm introduced to people in bars by friends, it turns out they have read this nonsense as well, and the response is generally favorable (but then again they may be drunk).

Several years ago a friend suggested that I look into Podcasting, pointing out that what I have to say would have a general appeal, mostly based upon personality.

Apparently, I'm a fucking delight. People find my method of expressing myself entertaining.

But the opportunity to broadcast to the Galaxy has always been something I have been loathe to do, for various reasons, the first being that while I may be a technical genius I must admit to having about as much Internet savvy as Maxine Waters has human chromosomes. Perhaps less.

So, if anyone is familiar with the concepts and mechanics of broadcasting scurrilous commentary hither and yon across Cyberspace, please drop me a line at the e-mail address on the page. I have many questions, and it would be greatly appreciated if I could get some answers and advice from you.

2. Monetization of this Drivel

Your Overlord likes eating. Perhaps a bit too much, but this seems to be a problem we all have.

Sadly, the number of page clicks here has not reached a threshold that makes living the high life feasible on blogging alone, and I will not, not ever, stoop to putting up a tip jar like one of those fucktard baristas at Starbucks. I have also been keen to avoid putting advertising on this thing for the simple reason that I find it personally annoying, and would not inflict that punishment upon you just for a few bucks.

I had looked into the possibility of using this thing to generate Bitcoin, but soon discovered that Bitcoin is bullshit. I would call it "a scam", but that would be insulting the really good scams, like Social Security.

Besides, the real money in Bitcoin is not the Bitcoin itself (for Bitcoin is based on speculation) but in the Blockchain technology that underpins it. And that would be totally useless on this kind of forum for my purposes of making a buck without annoying or shaking down the reader. Alas, I will have to continue to do this for strictly therapeutic reasons alone, which is kind of okay considering that's why I started blogging in the first place.

This means you will be able to continue ingesting the caustic bullshit that pours forth from my damaged brain free-of-charge and without attempts at online panhandling.

It was a long shot, anyway.

3. A Pet Peeve

If you find it necessary to write a turgid response, full of your own invective and full of shining examples of just why most human beings should be taken out and turned into dog food, for the love of whatever you hold holy, please stop doing so anonymously.

Grow a pair and put your name to it.

Claim your stupid.

The e-mail doth overfloweth with poorly-written death threats and repetitive retorts all based upon an obvious common source. Which means someone smarter than you is probably telling you what to say, and the bad spelling, atrocious grammar, PROPENSITY TO USE ALL CAPS, abundant internet shorthand, and "pile of shit" emojis are all indicative of your diminished intelligence.

I want you to know that you're not changing my mind, you're not frightening me, you're usually not telling me anything I haven't heard four billion times since 1973 (really, Lefties, get some new material!) and I haven't laughed this hard or this much since Hillary lost.

Let me repeat that, so that it stings you:

Hillary Lost.

And because I take great delight in yanking your collective short-and-curlies for the sheer torment factor, let me elaborate:

Hillary lost -- twice -- first to a man she claimed was so inexperienced he shouldn't have even run (but then she took a job from him?), and the second time to a man she considered an uncultured idiot so inferior that he might resemble one of those half-ape guys on the extreme left side of the "Evolution of Man" posters.

In one of those delicious ironies, isn't it remarkable that all the proto-human-half-monkeys are all on the LEFT of that poster, and simultaneously inhabiting the LEFT portion of the political spectrum?

There are no coincidences, my friends.

In any case, put your name on your diatribe (assuming you can spell it. I get the impression from reading some of this garbage that many of you have names involving more than one apostrophe, don't originate in English, can't be adequately translated into English because we don't have a letter of the alphabet that equates to "ooga-booga", and which are written in a language which must mostly consist of grunts, groans, tongue clicks and emojis, for which a Rosetta Stone has yet to be found.

The reasons are twofold: first, if you have something to say, then claim it. My name is up here, and in today's word that carries considerable risk when you consider that people will narc you out to prospective employers, or that employers will often do an online search of their employees to find out what they're up to -- take the same risk I'm taking, otherwise, shut the fuck up. The second reason is because it saves me a great deal of time (perhaps 7-8 minutes) when I trace your e-mail address back to where you live or work, so that I can send you a bag of dicks.

Until now, I had sent them anonymously, just to fuck with you.

There's been a few of you who have been repeat recipients. I gather this means you like putting dicks in your mouths.

Apropos of the hate mail, I have gleaned the following characteristics of the typical respondant:

1. It is overwhelmingly generated by extraordinarily obese females, or perhaps transitioning hippos (to judge by their social media pictures). In a bizarre twist, some of my best FAN mail comes from homosexual men. Go figure.

2. A fair amount of it concerns itself with issues that weren't even discussed here. It's basically just a profanity-laced rant about my "toxic" masculinity and propensity to rape everything.

3. You wouldn't rape these transitioning, hate-filled hippos with a gun to your head, and if you ever did, you'd be scrubbing yourself clean with Brillo for the rest of your life. Seriously, Gurls, armpit hair, stringy bangs, and skin so oily it reflects any kind of light is hardly attractive. P.S. see a dentist. And stop taking selfies in the bathroom mirror, for fuck's sake. It's bad enough that I have to look at you, do I have to see the disgustingly unsanitary conditions of the inside of your double-wide, too?

4. 90% of you live in trailers.

5. Yes, we know, YOU'RE ALL SPECIAL and the general stereotypes of the fat, butt-ugly inbred done wrong by life but-arisen-like-the-Phoenix-from-the-ashes heroine, or the Upper Middle Class dilettante who wants to recite her fucking resume to prove she's "accomplished" (yes, I'm so impressed I could literally shit) and you just know the woman never did a damned thing that either rich daddy or rich husband didn't finance or grease the skids ahead of her for, claiming her "fierce independence", are your life story.

6. No, I don't hate "Strong Women". This is a common and favorite descriptive term over-used by the easily-triggered and overly-menstrual. I hate cunts. Most of you are obviously unaware of the difference between the two and on what side of the divide you fall upon.

If by "Strong Woman" you mean one who can take a joke, read something without immediately going to DEFCON 1, and who can respond in a measured, interesting, intelligent, grammatically-correct manner, then yeah, I like those.

It's the bitter, uppity functional illiterates who regurgitate slogans, don't know the difference between "They're", "There" and "Their", or "Your", "You're" and "Yore", who intersperse their venom with "H8R" and "IDK" or "FWIW" because apparently writing out entire words is hard, suffering from a million obvious mental defects and disorders  and who look like if they went to the beach would draw volunteers from Greenpeace to attempt to push them back into the water, that I dislike. In fact, if it were up to me, you'd all be marooned on an Amazon island of self-loathing and estrogen where you could all hate on each other in the contest to decide who hates themselves the most.

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