Wednesday, November 10, 2021

This Is What I'm Talking About...

 "In a time of deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act..." -- George Orwell

People think I'm exaggerating.

They say what I write cannot POSSIBLY be truth.

There is just no way that reality can be this bad.

They claim I'm just a hating hater who is full of hatredy hateyness who is attacking people with hatred for no reason other than hatred.

You would think so, but sadly, no. The Overlord does not exaggerate, he does not prevaricate, distort, misrepresent or garble reality. Because reality is all we have.

For those of you who complain that I'm too harsh on my neighbors here in the Forgotten Borough of New York City, here is an example what I've been telling you for months, nay, years.

This island is crawling with drunken idiots who have the money to flash $10,000 Rolexes, but somehow live in basement apartments. To judge by his build and (poor) fashion sense, this dude is either in the construction trades, or works for the Sanitation Department.

You can tell from the 1980's Guido ensemble and horrible taste in females.

This island is infested with double-wide whores who are engaged in a seemingly unofficial and disorganized scientific endeavor to see just how far yoga pants can stretch before the Space-Time continuum is destroyed by exploding ass fat. She is obviously what now passes for a stripper in these parts; all the rage these days is a woman with more blubber than Moby Dick and fewer morals than a Clinton.

Both probably have an IQ that requires a new method of mathematics to quantify at the lower end of the register. Both are probably middle-school dropouts.

In other Staten-Island-oriented harbingers of the Apocalypse, we discover that yet another fight has broken out in a local high school, these things tending to involve multiple students, weapons and the press and school administrators taking great pains to avoid revealing the racial background of those involved, the initial cause of the dispute (often drugs, small sums of money, theft and retaliation, disrespect and retaliation, gang affiliation, dumbfuck), and often even how many people were involved. The lack of details is the distinctive tell.

Which means we can safely infer everyone involved is black.

This takes place a few weeks after a similar incident took place at another Staten Island high school.

And these are just the ones we find out about.

(By the way, when the press or city refers to "School Safety Agents" what they mean to say is "overweight, unarmed, minority woman whose other career prospects most likely involved "cleaning" rooms at the local seedy motels or asking people if they wanted fries with that").

A bit of interesting and possibly-ironic local history to inject into this: New Dorp High School was originally constructed as a prison.

Yes, you've read that correctly.

Back in the early 1980's, the City of New York, in it's infinite, driven-by-liberals wisdom, decided to build a minimum-security prison right smack dab in the center of a residential neighborhood.

And not tell anyone about it.

So, a huge construction project was taking place in the middle of a residential neighborhood, and the purpose and function of the building was kept a secret for nearly two years from the people -- the taxpayers who paid for it -- who lived right next door to it. And then the truth came out.

And the taxpayers were indignant.

Whereupon the prison was transformed into a high school....with all the trappings of a prison. Such as automatically-locking doors, portcullises that sealed off hallways to prevent movement within the building, alarm systems, guard rooms, which all came in handy in the 1980's when race riots were common on Staten Island.

Race riots that centered around the conflicts between the permanent-ward-of-government underclass (seen, rightly, as a class of criminal parasites at the time), and the newly-elevated-by-exorbitant-union-payscales, white city workers who fled the other boroughs for the supposed "better neighborhoods and schools" of Staten Island.

In fact, unofficially, the Great Exodus from Brooklyn and Queens was spearheaded by the Great Unwashed who worked at Sanitation, or as Cops, Firemen, and Social Workers, most of whom happened to be Italian, so that an entire generation of Staten Islanders are unofficially referred to as "Guineas over the Gangplank" (The Verrazano-Narrows Bridge). The subsequent exodus of same people to the bucolic shitpile of New Jersey came to recast the route of the Brooklynite who moved to Staten Island in order to "get away from the moulignans", and then moved on to New Jersey to get away from them again, as The Mozzarella Trail.

But they still won't leave, despite the fact their house is now worth 5 to 10 times what they paid for it in 1983. Like Communists insisting that they're right, these idiots cling to this stupid idea that if you just wait around long enough, a Unicorn will appear and set everything in the neighborhood back to the way it was in 1980.

And then their relatives move to Staten Island. There must be more Salumerias on Staten Island than in Italy. Because one can never have enough outlets for fresh mozzarella, hot gabbagool, and eggplant parm.

The Shanty Irish (is there another kind?), who historically can't wait to migrate in high enough numbers to destroy and defile other people's homelands, soon followed, and most of those have remained, preferring to stew in their own stupidity and degeneracy generation after generation.

All congregate in getting-smaller-every-year enclaves where property values and taxes rise astronomically, while intellect continues it's simultaneous sharp and alarming decline.

But, wait, there's more!

The local fishwrap, The Staten Island Advance, which has about 30 readers, has now gone all uppity and decided that if you want to know what happened five blocks away (that's how small Staten Island is), and the local grapevine didn't give you three versions 10 minutes after it happened, you can now pay a subscription fee to read all about it (two days after it's happened), because they're just as good as the New York Times or the Washington Post or something.

The Advance hasn't yet figured out it's been surpassed and made redundant by the Smart Phone with a still and video camera.

Fuck, in a place this small the Advance was made redundant by yelling across the street to or at your neighbors.

As a kid, I used to deliver the Advance in the afternoons. My paper route had over 100 customers on it, back in the 1980's, but my nephew -- who had a route in the same neighborhood -- gave it up after making the critically-important discovery that delivering 18 papers day when his brothers (all three of them) who used to deliver 80 (and close to 100 on Sundays) just a few years before wasn't exactly worth his time and effort.

And what, exactly, do you get for your online subscription? The same crap you got on dead tree, only with a comments section filled with the illiterate opinions of the very old pining for the Good Old Days Before the Bridge and angry lesbians calling for the elimination of cis white men and an intense program of Penis Registration and Control. That means wedding announcements -- Italian marries Irish, Irish marries Italian, Jew marries Italian, Irish marries Jew, Jewish lesbian marries Italian-Irish lesbian, and there's yet another sale on mozzarella and chicken parm at ______.

And who could live without this vital information?

Incidentally, every restaurant the Advance either excessively hypes or positively reviews (and the reviewers all seem to be 19 year-old girls), seems to close within six months. If you're a local restaurateur and the Advance shows up, send them packing. It's the only way to survive.

When the local wildlife isn't making life difficult on this island (incidentally, despite the brilliant DeBlasio "solution" of castrating bucks, the deer herd is estimated to have increased to 3,000 this year), the Other Local Wildlife is doing it's level best to make civilization impractical.

Apparently there is a shortage of holiday...turkeys?).

So, you see, this is, in fact, a very crazy place to live. In fact, one might call it a looney bin, and it is this way specifically because the people who live here are mostly morons.

But go ahead and call me an exaggerating, hate-filled liar again.

: Fixed two link errors. Apologies!


JB_Honeydew said...

Not much I can say about the Neanderthal population that plagues your lands, but I can almost guarantee you that if you were to open up some open hunting weekends, a lot of rednecks down here would be happy to make the trip North and help ya'll thin out whatever herds need thinnin'. Just sayin'

Anonymous said...

I loved the yoga pants observation; it was so critically spot-on that the intense momentary nausea it conjured almost made me upchuck tonight's EGGPLANT PARMESAN dinner from 90 minutes before! Fat yoga pants and the Hindenburg have a lot in common ("Oh the humanity"). Thanks for the post, Overlord, because it is genuine and it allows all of us milquetoasts to vent vicariously through your capable word processor. Best wishes to you and Mrs. Overlord. Keep the hits coming. Are we allowed to sign off with "Let's go Brandon" on the planet? If so, then, "Let's go Brandon." 'Till next blog post...

Matthew Noto said...

"Let's go Brandon" is entirely appropriate.

If Staten Island still has one redeeming feature, it is that is a relative GOP stronghold in a sea of ludicrous libertardness.

Perhaps I can invite you one day to a meal of freshly-vasectomied venison as an apology for almost losing your eggplant dinner.

By the way, the Overlord is an Italian (so I'm speaking of my own) and he loves Eggplant parm, but prefers to make it himself.

Matthew Noto said...

JB, there really wouldn't be much sport in it.

The local deer are constantly being fed by idiots who haven't figured out that if you keep feeding them, there will be more of them, who then complain the fucking things are ruining their exquisitely-manicured 66'x100' patch of suburban paradise.

The deer, on the whole, have become so tame that they will walk right up to people expecting to be hand fed.

Which means you can hunt them with a hammer or a cast-iron frying pan.

Or, you could just stake out any intersection that passes through the Egbertville Ravine (protected forestland), or The Greenbelt (protected forest and wetlands) and just wait for some 4' 11", 90-pound blond to plow into one with her oversized BMW Cheerios transporter and be in venison for the year.

Anonymous said...


Another entirely lame post from the little boy from Staten Island who wishes he could be an actual man, so that he could escape from his miserable world and experience something akin to a life beyond his keyboard.

What a pathetic sod you are.

Don't bother responding.
Save your breath for your inflatable date.


Matthew Noto said...

Oh good. The poster child for birth control is back.

JB_Honeydew said...

Sporting or not, thee's quite a few folks down here that would be happy to help lol

As for the yoga pants, that epidemic is everywhere.....cottage cheese ass, ick. People seem to forget the cardinal rule here: Spandex is a privilege, not a right.

GMay said...

Criticizing someone for using their keyboard, while stalking them with... wait for it... your keyboard.

Overlord, you need better trolls.

Matthew Noto said...

Alas, GMay, the world produces naught but dumbfucks.

The world under his bridge is mighty small, I reckon.