Archive for December, 2007

Book Review – Dancing at Armageddon: Survivalism and Chaos in Modern Times

Monday, 31 December 2007

The short version: A sociologist/scholar spends years hanging out with various survivalists, then offers up theories about survivalism. Well-written but loses focus. Skip the edubabble. There is no appreciable hands-on survivalism knowledge in this book.

Dancing at Armageddon was written by one Richard G. Mitchell Jr., who explains he needed a “fresh” unexplored sociological subject to write about and found one in survivalists…problem is, he doesn’t do them any favors. Mitchell starts with the claim that James Huberty was the media’s stereotype of a survivalist (my own stereotype would be Burt Gummer from the Tremors movies) and goes from there.

Dancing was printed in 2002 but unfortunately is already dated, covering only the 1980s to early 90s, before widespread internet access, Y2K and, of course, 9-11. Even these “paradigm shifts” probably wouldn’t add up to much in uniting fringe groups or makeshift militias.

Mitchell “trains” with survivalists, who run the gamut from poor loners to wealthy suburbanites. He tosses off a lot of theories about the type of person that gravitates towards survivalism, their thought processes, etc,. using a lot of edubabble that only professors and other obfuscators would find interesting or helpful.

If you only read the first half of the book, you’d think survivalists were for the most part harmless scrabblers, tinkerers, information traders and universal hoplophiles*, engaged in a kind of hobby. The tone changes in the second half of the book, after Mitchell attends retreats and “churches” of White racial purists. What he sees (and caricatures) causes him to lose all objectivity, which is understandable for a human but unacceptable for a researching writer.

The so-called “White Power” movement (which does more harm than good to Euro-American culture and traditions) is peopled with misfits and losers; the same would go for any “race pride” group.

While I admire Mitchell for walking the talk in befriending many survivalists (and exposing the media’s sensational thirst to create enemy Outsiders) in the end he remains a (naturally) liberal perfesser. Having grown crankier and more cynical during years of study, for the last third of the book his original mission of exploring survivalism all but vanishes. You can take or leave his theories, but either way this isn’t an overall satisfying read.

* lovers of firearms

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Clockwork hells

Monday, 31 December 2007

Jesus H. Christ, I don’t see how I’ll make it another 30 years, or 20.  Every new person I meet is a puzzle box not unlike the ones in the Hellraiser films.

I don’t want to know their life histories.  They are not real, their pain is not real, I can’t invest anything in them.  Keep them away.

I wish finding the Gateway out of here involved long hours of sitting and living in isolation, but if you live in a complex society, you’re fated to deal with its clockwork hells. 

Thank you for your student loan payment

Sunday, 30 December 2007

We are not responsible for your shit-worthless education
or lack of anything out there
besides drug-dealing
to pay it off.

Caveat emptor!

You may sneak into this country and get thousands in welfare
you can breed a bastard and get almost as much
but there’s no escape from student loans; you tried to screw
the American Dream
and it raped you first.

C’mon, Man, we’ve been doing this for centuries, did you think you’d win?
Usury
is not a new trick
for us.

Learn to be just another
American Nigger
society is color-blind
except for money-green.

real blonde, fake tan

Saturday, 29 December 2007

Once a week the real blonde fake-tans in clamshell beds until she’s
orange.

She brags about getting sex from her husband when any of the 12 men listening would happily tit-fuck her to death (she’s got so much up top they’d die first).

Her tinny voice does not please the ears. But God, the Body. She shows off the strip of skin above her backside. The shade is always flawed.

After tanning, her hips and vagina must look like art deco from the early 1990s,
pink squiggle surrounded by orange. I want to drink her.

She once told me she has low-esteem, maybe because she assumes I can’t get past the padlock of her confession. She’s probably right. The most I’ve promised her sexually is she won’t end up on the internet.

Huge breasts sun-kissed orange. Drink.

Sex means having to push even when going downhill

Saturday, 29 December 2007

Another tired day, the asses and breasts of all the women move as One like a silent freighter in dark, oily waters.

The busy harbor leaves the timid and unquick on the docks  to rust with the bollards.

Why do the hot ones marry such goofballs?

I am not Chinese enough to know.   

Poetry Corner: “I will fuck your wife”

Friday, 28 December 2007

Her knees depress a pillow on the floor as I slide it hot past her glistening lips
and slowly pull out,
her saliva surf washing over the thin skin,
soaks her own sealed mouth and slithers down her chin, a swaying line of spit that strikes between her huge breasts.
I massage her shoulders, happy for her finally getting some
attention
even if it’s just
thick ropes of man-yogurt
hot down her throat.

Sex Plan if I was a midget

Friday, 28 December 2007

If I was a midget, I’d team up with a midget wingman and go out and try to get normal-sized women to join us in a menage a midge. Because midgets are smaller we’d have better odds…the hook is, together we’d only equal ONE man…it would feel more natural to a woman, like being with only one man cut in half instead of two full-grown idiots.

If I was midget, that would be the Sex Plan.

BASTARD children deserve no ice cream: an interview companion

Thursday, 27 December 2007

BASTARD children deserve no ice cream? That was a pretty fucked-up last post there. You hate children?

I don’t even think about children unless goaded or one is around being a fatherless self-centered asshole. I don’t go out of my way to hurt children. I just don’t like them around. Paedophobia.

There was a child on the premises not long ago…

The mother is a fatass friend of the family. I would’ve hit it if it was offered. Big tasty breasts.

Such a romantic. Are you on drugs?

Many.

Aren’t you just pissed off your “vacation” is over?

The only real vacation is death. Yes, I am angry at the holiday respite ending. For me, anyway.

You sound unhappy.

I am.

Any reason to go on?

None. I ate everything and smoked everything. The Fatty mother is long gone and the place is too crowded to jack off. I lose.

You were pretty mean to single mothers with those last comments.

Single mothers are women who chose someone else. Why should I care how they feel?

Change your attitude and you change your altitude.

I changed my altitude with God’s Smoke. Now you’re harshing my mellow.

Sorry. Any last words?

Why not combine posts? Check out this fascist asshole’s commentary.

He thinks rising oceans due to global warming are going to “wash away” the red states. When will people wake up to the menace of Green Fascism? Left-wing activists: Nature’s organic clowns.

BASTARD children deserve no ice cream

Thursday, 27 December 2007

It’s hard for me to explain how much I hate children, as a group. I used to be a Latchkey “counselor”: any kind of romantic notions about what it means to be a child or saving the children or children being the future was wiped out.

What is a child to me? Someone smaller than a normal useless human but requiring additional attention. These days children are spoiled little shits and one of the reasons I hate smoking bans is because disciplining a child with a burning match isn’t the same as a lit cigarette.

Just kidding. Understand that I would happily kill all adults who abuse children, but children themselves remain vortexes of time, attention, money.

If you treat kids like miniature human beings, they’ll turn out all right, but you know, you’re going to like some children more than others if you treat them like people.

Nobody dreams of having ugly children, attractive children are preferred…this is a major source of trouble.

I would love to see the BASTARD stigma reborn. I want unwed mothers (“breeders”) to feel real shame, and their bastard progeny to remind them every day how they fucked up. Also, unmarried sperm donors (they are not real fathers except in the eyes of the law) should be stigmatized and made outcasts.

Fun fact: James Smithson was a bona fide English bastard and was so furious at being denied social status, he gave his money to the United States, which founded…the Smithsonian Institute. See, if England then had had no stigma-shame about bastardhood like America does now, we would have fewer cool museums.

Anyways, I never want anything to do with women who have children. Haggard, bitchy, tired, enslaved and a pussy like a pup tent.

I hate everyone so just laugh it off, no one cares what anyone else thinks.

Enjoying the plants?

Thursday, 27 December 2007

Why yes, I am.  It’s now “5:20”, I took just enough “snowcap” to be mellow and swimmy at the same time.  The world should always feel so soft.
For me, the indentured servitude of a shit job resumes tomorrow.  When you hate people as much as I do, the only jobs with manageable stress levels are hermit, hermit crab, astronomer (big telescopes only) and night watchperson.  Any time people are involved it’s going to be terrible.

I didn’t write much at all this past week and I’m not sorry about it.  Who cares.  The stupid will be stupid tomorrow, the damned remain damned, scuba-diving below an oil fire.

I’m enjoying using my infrared thermometer gun.  I’ve zapped all kinds of objects…I like the added input of knowing the temperatures of things and the knowledge accrued is far from useless.

Example:  ladies, I may not have a 12″ penis, but it’s 95 degrees.