Released Today. Sing along kids. [continue reading…]
[Note: An astute reader notices an off-hand remark of mine concerning hanging out with Hunter Thompson back in the dawn of time and asks for more detail. Wish granted]
I USED TO RUN A MAGAZINE (Organ) IN SAN FRANCISCO BACK IN THE 70s. I ran it out of the basement of an early 20th century firehouse in North Beach under the offices of Scanlan’s magazine. Scanlan’s was the scam magazine of Warren Hinckle, a man whose record of conning money out of Bay Area millionaires stood unbroken for decades until the arrival of David Talbot and Salon and silly philanthropists that mistakenly married fanatic feminists.
Warren liked to drink and spend other people’s money on himself and writers. Naturally, such a honey pot was going to attract Hunter Thompson. Thompson liked to drink, snort coke, and spend other people’s money on articles he might or might not write. A favorite item from the day was the time Hunter rented a car on Scanlan’s credit card. He then parked it next to one of his North Beach Beatnik bimbo’s apartments and went to and fro with it for a number of months. When the time came to return the car it was discovered that the rental fee would be much much more than Hinkle and Scanlan’s wanted to spend. Their solution? After a night of beer, bourbon, and bongs, they drove the car out to the end of a pier in San Francisco, stepped out, and let it drive itself into the bay. Then they reported it stolen.
Beer. Bourbon. Bongs. Bay. What can I say? Good times.
Sometimes the small staff working with me at Organ and the larger staff working the con with Warren at Scanlan’s would decide to drink together. We liked to drink at our bar of choice up at the end of the alley, Andre’s.
One night, when Hunter was in town, we all went up to Andre’s for a non-stop night of drinking.
Andre was an elegant French-Canadian who ran an elegant bar and restaurant. He was old-school and could mix any drink anyone could name and it was always perfect. He was polished, polite, and a good listener. But he was a pro and usually knew when you’d had enough. Then he politely asked you to leave. If you ignored him, he had a very large mallet with a three-foot handle behind the bar and you didn’t ignore that.
So there we were, eight or ten of us I think, hanging around and drinking with “Hunter S. Thompson, man!” And, as they would, Warren and Hunter got into a drinking contest — sort of like watching a match between Ali and Frazier in their prime.
It went on and on long past the point where I could or would keep up. It was getting late and Andre announced to the assembled cross-eyed drunks, that he was giving us our last round. The regulars took him at his word, but Hunter had to push the envelope. Except with Andre, there was no envelope. Just a polite, “Non.”
The next thing I know there’s a gun in Hunter’s hand and three rounds blasted into the ceiling of the bar. (Did I mention that there were apartments where people were sleeping above the bar?)
Then I think there was a blur of Andre, in suit and tie, coming over the bar with the mallet. Then more blurs and everybody is out on the street dragging a semi-conscious Hunter back down the alley mumbling something about getting his gun back. After that I don’t remember much and, frankly, haven’t thought all that much about Thompson in the nearly 50 years that have intervened.
Later Hunter left this Earth in the same way that he lived — gun-crazy, thoughtless, self-obsessed, and selfish to the last second. A gunshot suicide at home, leaving his wife and son to discover and deal with his ruined corpse and clean up the room.
What a man.
Not Relaxing
Red Dragon, Dead Dragon | Ultra-nationalism combined with blatant racism, making Hitler look like a beginner. Xi is not going to give up power, that much is certain. The only way open for him is going ultra-ultra-nationalist. China is in a very good position for that. About 95% of the total population is Han-Chinese. It’s very easy to make them feel special or on a mission. They already are; it isn’t exactly fun being a Tibetan or Uighur at the moment. Organ harvesting is not a conspiracy or a myth but a fact in China. Concentration camps won’t have to be built, merely expanded. Going ultra-nationalist will make the people accept terrible hardships. It always does.
China really is going back to the bad old days… Little red book of Xi Jinping thought being promoted in Guangxi province… ugh, disgusting 🤮 pic.twitter.com/AzIIXTUu90
— Winston Sterzel (@serpentza) April 27, 2022
The Script is Flipped! â Ukraine War & Aftermath Some of the up to 20 substations attacked so far, have received new transformers from Ukrainian Railways’ reserve stash, and been brought back into service. However, the transformers are reportedly an unusual (Soviet) type of 25kv unit that is no longer manufactured. At some point—and this point may have been reached already, we don’t know—there will be no more available. And as we can see, the “bombs are still falling”, and Russia’s target list is only getting longer.
Almost all “large” items (cannon, tanks, etc.) that the U.S. hegemonic bloc hopes to bring into the Ukraine, must go by rail or else by individual tractor-trailer (the latter option being very slow, and the U.S. bloc would have to cough up the trailers.) Every time Russia attacks the substations, it completely gums up the entire rail system region-wide, throughout western Ukraine—everything stops. At some point soon, everything will stop permanently, which also means, no passenger traffic and no imports/exports beyond what can be moved by road. (Ukrainian Railways has relatively few working diesel machines in its locomotive fleet; most of the Ukraine’s rail transport relies on electric locomotives. Hypothetically, the U.S. bloc could “lend” the Ukraine some diesels, but the problem is, the Ukraine is on Soviet rail track gauge—European locomotives won’t be of any use.)
Kundera: That is when I understood the magical meaning of the circle.
If you go away from a row, you can still come back into it. A row is an open formation. But a circle closes up, and if you go away from it, there is no way back. It is not by chance that the planets move in circles and that a rock coming loose from one of them goes inexorably away, carried off by centrifugal force. Like a meteorite broken off from a planet, I left the circle and have not stopped falling. Some people are granted their death as they are whirling around, and others are smashed at the end of their fall. And these others (I am one of them) always retain a kind of faint yearning for that lost ring dance, because we are all inhabitants of a universe where everything turns in circles.
Meme of the Decade (So Far)
As Steven Crowder says, “I’m pro-choice. Four choices abstinence, contraception, parenthood, and adoption. Just not the fifth choice of baby killing.”
As news coverage of Roe v. Wade continues, it is important to remember that people who are not women do get pregnant and do get abortions.
With that in mind, here are some of our best practices. 🧵
— Trans Journalists Association (@TransJA) May 5, 2022
Striving for ‘Menstrual Equity,’ Oregon Puts Tampons in Men’s Bathrooms
Schools in Oregon have begun adding menstrual products to men’s restrooms after the Governor signed a law requiring schools provide free period products in all elementary, middle, and high school bathrooms. pic.twitter.com/nECnP4SbL7
— Libs of TikTok (@libsoftiktok) May 5, 2022
GAS EXPLOSION. YEAH. RIGHT. Havana, Cuba Hotel Saratoga explosion: Search on for survivors A Twitter account for the Cuban presidency reported a “liquefied gas explosion” as the possible cause for the deadly incident, but further details were not released,
I Am The Peasant Revolt – The plan of the regime was simple: culturally sterilize the white population, their greatest threat to power (as clearly evidenced by the recent Canadian truckers’ protest), and replace them with atomized non-European people who will obey any directive to come and reside in the United States to enjoy its first-world comforts. Through the pursuit of their material self-interests, my parents unknowingly consented to this plan. They had two children who were supposed to accept without question the prime directives of the regime: consumerism, comfort, and casual sex. Their son abided by this plan and exceeded it to a foul degree. He injected the sexual revolution with the addition of steroids, spreading degeneracy around the Western world and unknowingly aiding the depopulation agenda through the fulfillment of his carnal desires. He was supposed to be a rootless Cosmopolitan who supports abortion and foments grievances against America for being racist against non-whites. He was supposed to feed the divide-and-conquer plan of men versus women so they would never pair bond and create families. He was supposed to be an obedient corporate worker, a mindless consumer, and an enjoyer of soybean oil. He was supposed to do all this for the remainder of his life, to be a mere peasant who survives day-to-day with the aid of entertainment, industrial food, credit, pornography, and normalized passions sponsored by the elite. Some of this he did, and some he didn’t, but something happened along the way.
Perverts on Parade Biden’s new press secretary sparks conflict-of-interest concerns
Jack Kerouac: The Scroll Manuscript of “On The Road”
“I first met Dean not long after my wife and I split up. I had just gotten over a serious illness that I won’t bother to talk about, except that it had something to do with the miserably weary split-up and my feeling that everything was dead. With the coming of Dean Moriarty began the part of my life you could call my life on the road. Before that I’d often dreamed of going West to see the country, always vaguely planning and never taking off. Dean is the perfect guy for the road because he actually was born on the road, when his parents were passing through Salt Lake City in 1926, in a jalopy, on their way to Los Angeles. First reports of him came to me through Chad King, who’d shown me a few letters from him written in a New Mexico reform school. I was tremendously interested in the letters because they so naively and sweetly asked Chad to teach him all about Nietzsche and all the wonderful intellectual things that Chad knew. At one point Carlo and I talked about the letters and wondered if we would ever meet the strange Dean Moriarty. This is all far back, when Dean was not the way he is today, when he was a young jailkid shrouded in mystery. Then news came that Dean was out of reform school and was coming to New York for the first time; also there was talk that he had just married a girl called Marylou….”
“So in America when the sun goes down and I sit on the old broken-down river pier watching the long, long skies over New Jersey and sense all that raw land that rolls in one unbelievable huge bulge over to the West Coast, and all that road going, all the people dreaming in the immensity of it, and in Iowa I know by now the children must be crying in the land where they let the children cry, and tonight the stars’ll be out, and don’t you know that God is Pooh Bear? the evening star must be drooping and shedding her sparkler dims on the prairie, which is just before the coming of complete night that blesses the earth, darkens all rivers, cups the peaks and folds the final shore in, and nobody, nobody knows what’s going to happen to anybody besides the forlorn rags of growing old, I think of Dean Moriarty, I even think of Old Dean Moriarty the father we never found, I think of Dean Moriarty.”
– – On the Road, First and Last Paragraphs
“I’ll just sit down and let it flow out of me … It’s the Holy Ghost that comes through you. You don’t have to be a Catholic to know what I mean, and you don’t have to be a Catholic for the Holy Ghost to speak through you.”
We moved the guns and ammunition well after midnight.
There were six or seven of us, garbed in layered clothing against the dropping temperatures of the high altitude environment. It was a clear night and our voices were subdued as we worked in the thin air.
There was an important task at hand. Hundreds of rifles, thousands and thousands of rounds of ammunition and gear for hundreds of men needed to be moved. Quickly, quietly and competently.
There could be no chance of interference from State power or observation from the eyes of the idly curious, the covetous or even the hostile predator. The material was too valuable, too important to risk.
“Power grows from the barrel of a gun,” said Mao Zedong. And he knew this well.
The most consequential form of power is the lethal force of the State. And in the reality of the dark world that lethal force is exercised at the whim of ideologists and politicians, applied with cruelty and rapacious brutality to inflict not justice but oppression, not truth but lies, and with determination to crush and murder the rights of human beings who dare to not merely proclaim, but exercise their freedom.
Every revolution begins with indignation.
Every purge ends with volleys of rifle fire into men standing before a wall.
It is in the space between those singularities, in the tumble and turn of social detonation and collapse, that the fate of a nation and its people are determined by men who hold levers of power.
History is written by men willing to use those levers. [continue reading…]
What does a man make after spending four years making the most famous spec house in America? Well, that would be seventeen swords for his grandchildren, right? Stay tuned.
Dan Patterson May 3, 2022, 3:52 AM
This treason and treachery will not end until they fear you.
Does it look like “they” are afraid of “you”?
No dipshit, they are afraid of nothing and they are laughing at you. Laughing at your intense interest in the shiny baubles strewn on the floor to distract you (Wuhan lab, injection of who-knows-what, pronouns, climate change. All bullshit meant to deflect and camouflage). And brother is it ever working! If school-aged kids had been given anything close to an education over the past generations the wave of outrage would be unstoppable by now. But that has not happened, and it’s been, what, 50 years in the making?
So let’s put another group of arthritic granddads and great aunts together, let’s make another empty-handed firm pledge to support and defend the Constitution, rally around a flag pole blue hair puffed, squinting through CVS readers, and recite the Pledge of Allegiance. Let “them” know you are by God standing firm, here and now. Yessir. You know, grass-roots activism. Popular front. Voice of the people, and all that.
Yeah. Like the Tea Party, like the Truckers Freedom Convoy, like the Election Fraud Investigation, like the Constitutional right to a speedy trial for the Jan 6th protesters.
Let’s not, and say we did. It’ll do about as much good as signing another petition, calling your representative, and writing mean tweets. In other words nothing. No it will not mean a damned thing to stand on your principles, let the world know you have prayerful focus, and worry about where the culture we once knew is buried. No it will not.
And here is another piece of truth for you: God does NOT have this, God is not involved in these actions; they are the end product of tyranny and evil from men and it is up to men to stop it. No storm is coming, no fury unleashed, and no secret army of angels will descend to rescue us from our torment. Stop believing that fairy tale nonsense.
What does matter is action. The past century is a graveyard for people who fretted and fumed, stomped and dithered, and never made a decision, never took action. What that action is, well, that is a damned good question because the culture is against acts of self defense. Do you want to be that guy, the one with a black hoodie and an AR scaring the neighbors? Are you the one targeted by DHS because you talked about the DC Swamp in a bar? What action can be taken? Hell, if I knew that I wouldn’t be at my keyboard venting like a maniac at 6:30 on Tuesday.
Invasions and mutiny are not stopped by words, they are not prevented by firm demands for truth and justice. They are stopped by shot and shell, history proves it and please show me where I’m wrong.
I have no answers for what action can reasonably be taken, and I am firmly aware of the risks of speaking against the present administration with all the goons and fools and petty tyrants; piss on every one of them. Like most of you, I am looking for a solution that does not involve me getting my ass beaten by cops and my life ruined, but like the patriots of 1776 those options may now be behind us.
REPLY LINK EDIT
ghostsniper May 3, 2022, 4:34 AM
Agreed Dan.
Outwardly there is little any of us can do, in my opinion. The danger of being harassed, caged, or killed are too great to be the squeaky wheel. There are at least 435 criminals on the top of the ladder and they see no need to change their ways. The rest of must make our way as we see fit. I’m pretty certain things will continue as is, and get worse along the way, until such time that the top heavy ladder topples. Little by little, or all at once.
For some time now, at least a decade, I have been cultivating local relationships but with extreme caution. The walls, and the trees, have eyes and ears. As with Ukraine, as with NYFC, as with LA, etc., I have little concern as they do not directly effect me. Same with Hollywood, academia, most popular science, sports, and on and on. All of these things and more are so much static in pipeline of mostly irrelevant “information” we are bombarded with constantly. It’s like standing in a horizontal hale storm hoping to catch a walnut with the teeth while avoiding the gnats.
We’re digging and improving earth this week and next and hoping our efforts now will be rewarding at the end of summer. I’d like to have a milk cow, 4 horses, 20 chickens, but our meager acreage won’t support all of that. So I associate with people that do have that stuff and perhaps I can trade some of my things and my skills, and learn some new things.
You Are A Peasant – by Michael DC Bowen [from Michael DC Bowen | Substack]
The difficult thing about being a peasant in America is that we inherit the ideas that:
It’s a big country
We are owed freedom These complement each other in such a way that we have a sense that there is some part of America that’s just right for us if we can only get there, or that if we could get the wrong sorts out of where we are, we would be there. As such, there is always room for them and us, just don’t get in our way.Much, therefore, needn’t be resolved so long as we segregate ourselves properly. In so doing, we find we have not bothered to learn the art of collaboration, outside of what our employment demands of us, and partisan moral effrontery rewards us in the self-esteem and attention-seeking department.
If it’s not our full-time graded job to make a better society, we’re left as consumers of the dreck we’ve made of it, ever complaining even louder now that we’re outnumbered by worse peasants than we are. I still say that peasants are good company, because your auntie is, and you know exactly which auntie I’m talking about. The kind, smart, generous one who never visited New York City, but could probably teach them all a thing or two. But I’m here to talk about the geniuses, sub-geniuses, and underemployed. It might include your auntie if she ever screwed up the courage to leave the boonies of Indiana. To remind you…
Lo, a tsunami of pussy hats shall again slosh over the Land
Was this the Leak that launched a million pussy hats
And scorched the topless columns of Supremium?
And now? The Leaker. Suitable for framing or taking to the range to develop a tight grouping on a headshot. Just to be sure.
Stars showcase lavish outfits at Met Gala 2022https://t.co/Qj1djzVOgH pic.twitter.com/i3Shh9oKxr
— BBC News (World) (@BBCWorld) May 3, 2022
“And if my thought dreams could be seen, they’d probably put my head in a guillotine. . .”
Keep a close eye peeled for the now even more repulsive Meryl Streep, among other creatures of the night. The only downside to flying a cruise missile up the receiving line might be the destruction of a few paintings, broken statues, and battered books, but I’m counting on drone-steered targeting to minimize that.
More fuel for the fires that shall burn to the bone:
Bell Boy! I’ve gotta get runnin’ now
Bell Boy! Keep my lip buttoned down
Bell Boy! Carry this baggage out
Bell Boy! Always running at someone’s heel
You know how I feel, always running at someone’s heel
PHOTO: Hillary Clinton Maskless at Met Gala as Masked Black Staffer Attends Her Gown The unnamed staffer is the latest example in which the “help,” often persons of color, are masked while wealthy liberals, many of whom theoretically support draconian coronavirus restrictions on other people, go maskless at elite celebrations. The unnamed staffer is the latest example in which the “help,” often persons of color, are masked while wealthy liberals, many of whom theoretically support draconian coronavirus restrictions on other people, go maskless at elite celebrations.
“MASKS?” “Masks are for little people. The peasants that serve us.”
Gerard Van der Leun
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