“Night City was like a deranged experiment in social Darwinism, designed by a bored researcher who kept one thumb permanently on the fast-forward button. Stop hustling and you sank without a trace, but move a little too swiftly and you’d break the fragile surface tension of the black market; either way, you were gone, with nothing left of you but some vague memory in the mind of a fixture like Ratz, though heart or lungs or kidneys might survive in the service of some stranger with New Yen for the clinic tanks. Biz here was a constant subliminal hum, and death the accepted punishment for laziness, carelessness, lack of grace, the failure to heed the demands of an intricate protocol. “ — William Gibson, Neuromancer
And now Gibson’s dystopian 1984 nightmare has seemingly come true in our most depraved DemoLeftist cities. The above 12-minute glance at the sad-fried-lowlifes-of-the-lowlands is a microcosm of the repulsive lifestyles that infest and infect all DemoLeftist cities. If there was an invisible tour bus from SaneEarth hovering above the sand in the fog this might be the tour guide’s commentary:
Ladies and Gentlemen, for your evening’s edification SaneEarth’s Whiplash Reality Tours brings you the sand and fog of Venice Beach, Los Angeles just before the 2021 spontaneous Santa Monica Tsunami scrubbed clean, sanded off, and erased the beach and the surface of the city for ten miles inland.
They cannot see or sense us but we still ask you to remain in your seats and observe the “Fasten Seat Belt” sign. You wouldn’t want to fall out into this human sewer.
Speaking of sewers may I draw your attention to the tells of civilization in a decline so rapid it only took a year and a half for it to auger into the ground. Why? The people were The Stupids. They were stupid even before they learned they could vote themselves unlimited funds from the public treasury. The result? More than half the nation was face down at the public trough sopping up the salty gravy daily. Results of that? Take a look at this beach walk and you can see them all on parade for your time travelling pleasure.
And now let’s get started.
All aboard:
Observe the barely contained rolls of flab and the endless ranks of stolen shopping carts piled with junk, rags, and refuse.
Watch the waddle of fat women wearing tattered and ragged refugee clothing brought at a great price from select stores on Rodeo Drive.
See to the side the teeming reefs of homeless tents that were sold as “temporary” but are now permanent.
Read the crudely hand-lettered signs that say “Face Mask 5 Bucks.”
Roll past, roll past the carnival barkers, geeks, ragpickers, and other assorted parasites displaying with very gay pride to your now damaged eyes their thousands of dollars in bad tattoos bought with EBT scams and oozing out of their tight splitting pants.
Avoid the bright and empty lights of the “We-Never-Close” stores selling jokey t-shirts and tawdry souvenirs of a place nobody is proud of.
Check out the drug deals going down on the sidewalk or in the alleys while all around the waves of the unwashed and the addicted slosh past searching for things that can fill the hole in the soul and finding only meth and heroin.
Listen to the whiffs of static Spanish out of loudspeakers while walking past piles of deep-fried tire-sized doughnuts and gargantuan corndogs stacked like some strange alien dildos.
Take a graphic of the graffitied-into-oblivion walls and shutters where every single nobody-never-was of this erasable era felt compelled to tag their senseless name sign to a world that didn’t know enough about them to forget them.
Take a video of the grifters, tweakers, and bone-stoned latter-day hippies and spaced-out spades bouncing their bad boogie moves in the shadows.
See. See that everywhere is the voluntary servitude of the serf’s mask.
Warnings of Bad Bob Dylan imitators will be given in time for you to plug your ears… oops not fast enough. Sorry.
Check out that this crowd is composed of so much diversity that, crushed into a pink hot-dog paste, it would be enough to gag a pod of sperm whales.
A reminder that although most is sand and fog, some parts of this past are so bright that you might want to wear shades when we pass the blazing oasis of junk food surrounded by flashing lights in case you missed the miasma rising from two dozen deep fryers.
Note in passing a popular restaurant that there are a dozen masked waiters serving ten dozen unmasked diners while those waiting to dine wear their masks without a hint of doubt.
Try to forget those “I am transitioning” men whose idea of evening attire is yoga pants, braided armpits, and bad beards. They all died in the Restoration of 2022 or at least learned to shut the fuck up about their penis issues,.
We apologize in advance for the bad Mariachi bands and the suburbs of tented homeless camps on the sand.
We apologize in advance for the street entertainers who are anything but entertaining.
We apologize in advance for the psychedelic poster art, the tie-dyed speedos, and the custom facemasks reading “Good Dog. Now play dead.”
We apologize in advance for the shagadelic hairdos involving $800 weaves sported by welfare queens taking a day off from bitching.
We apologize in advance for the plethora of criminals, maniacs, and bipolar people with more issues than National Geographic.
We apologize in advance for sand and fog. Sand and fog. Sand and fog.
We apologize in advance but it was the Winter of 2020 and civilization didn’t have long to run.
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The last time I was walking that beach was around 1969. My memories are of beautiful bikini clad girls, surf boards, smiles and laughter.
What a depressing scene this video depicts. Human slugs and uneducated, dumbed down morons now. Totally oblivious to the destruction the leftists have created.
Wow! I am a faithful reader of this blog and this is the first time I’ve felt compelled to comment.
You put into words the works of a bittersweet poem.
“Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate.”
“He say you Brade Runnah…”
A is part of B.
B is part of C.
Is A part of C?
Not one of those Hollows could tell you.
“Whuh? A be part of B? What’s B? Ha! You foolin me, right? Ain’t no B. Who cares, man? I be gettin me some burger, yo.”
This could be Rome when Alaric the Visogoth came to town.
“Man, this is gonna be SO easy!”
I WAS feeling pretty good, Gerard. Now I’m down amongst the dust bunnies. So, thanks.
“Lucretia, my Empress. Get me the bottle of Sobieski.”
Did ya see all the oppressed minorities? See all those black guys hanging from light posts? The cops shooting blacks at random? White supremacy on parade right there folks. Critical race theory my ass.
Thank God I’m a white boy.
I see people walking, commerce happening, music happening (I guess it was music), all moving in a kind of chaotic harmony. It looks like a fine evening with a bit of everything for everybody. Everyone looked happy, or at least relaxed. If there were drug deals going on, I didn’t see them. I didn’t even notice the homeless tents that some say were there or the shopping carts. Isn’t it interesting how we all see what we see and it’s different for each of us.
I could go back and rewatch and look for the awful stuff (although I did notice quite a few fat women) and I’m sure I could find it, but no, I like my first view better. Which brings to mind this from the movie Man of La Mancha:
Miguel de Cervantes : Life as it is. I’ve lived for over 40 years and I’ve seen life as it is. Pain. Misery. Cruelty beyond belief. I’ve heard all the voices of God’s noblest creature. Moans from bundles of filth in the street. I’ve been a soldier and a slave. I’ve seen my comrades fall in battle or die more slowly under the lash in Africa. I’ve held them in my arms at the final moment. These were men who saw life as it is, yet they died despairing. No glory, no brave last words, only their eyes, filled with confusion, questioning “Why?” I do not think they were asking why they were dying, but why they had ever lived. When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies? Perhaps to be too practical is madness To surrender dreams – -this may be madness; to seek treasure where there is only trash. Too much sanity may be madness! And maddest of all – to see life as it is and not as it should be!
I was last there in 1984.
Layered hair, girls on rollerskates, tits falling out everywhere.
It was glorious.
I could only watch about 4 minutes, waiting with each breath to see something, anything beautiful. But it looks like a carnival to me. I am eternally grateful I live in the middle of nowhere – and it’s a beautiful, harmonious place to live.
My goodness! That’s depressing. The fog, motley crowd, and cacophony brings to mind some sort of dystopian market after the fall of civilization. I could only watch a few minutes. I can only hope that these aren’t the folks moving to Idaho.
I was just reading the following passage; it seems fitting here:
“At last river and road took a sudden turn, and lo! a great rock in the river, which dividing flowed around it, and on the top of the rock the city, with lofty walls and towers and battlements, and above the city the palace of the king, built like a strong castle. But the fortifications had long been neglected, for the whole country was now under one king, and all men said there was no more need for weapons or walls. No man pretended to love his neighbour, but every one said he knew that peace and quiet behaviour was the best thing for himself, and that, he said, was quite as useful, and a great deal more reasonable. The city was prosperous and rich, and if everybody was not comfortable, everybody else said he ought to be.
When Curdie got up opposite the mighty rock, which sparkled all over with crystals, he found a narrow bridge, defended by gates and portcullis and towers with loopholes. But the gates stood wide open, and were dropping from their great hinges; the portcullis was eaten away with rust, and clung to the grooves evidently immovable; while the loopholed towers had neither floor nor roof, and their tops were fast filling up their interiors. Curdie thought it a pity, if only for their old story, that they should be thus neglected. But everybody in the city regarded these signs of decay as the best proof of the prosperity of the place. Commerce and self-interest, they said, had got the better of violence, and the troubles of the past were whelmed in the riches that flowed in at their open gates.
Indeed, there was one sect of philosophers in it which taught that it would be better to forget all the past history of the city, were it not that its former imperfections taught its present inhabitants how superior they and their times were, and enabled them to glory over their ancestors. There were even certain quacks in the city who advertised pills for enabling people to think well of themselves, and some few bought of them, but most laughed, and said, with evident truth, that they did not require them. Indeed, the general theme of discourse when they met was, how much wiser they were than their fathers.”
If Governor Noisome ever lets Disneyland re-open, perhaps they could annex this promenade as BladerunnerLand.
I watched, skipping around a bit, and all I could think was “Here is a civilization in decline”. Your commentary was spot on. The only hopeful sign I saw was the relative lack of hijabs compared to my visit to Santa Monica pier three or four years ago.
When I was there in the summer of 80 I was with good people and was wasted on shroomz. Chowed down on a big cube of smoked swordfish and warshed it down with a coupla henry weinhard brews, then sat on the beach and sucked in some serious honey oil. Mmmmmm…..
That is animals feasting on the unburied dead.
And it is dangerous to retreat and “let the mongrels have the carcass”, for one thing they will have all of what they want and soon look for more. And they will find you. Your singular defense, standing proud and brave in your compound with your shotgun and torn shirt, will be thin as water against the jealousy and anger of the uncountable sea of thieves rising toward your throat. Jealous because you built a society of laws and obedience, of family and support, and of prosperity and gratitude; things they cannot experience and that is the seed of their anger. Give them a taste of it and they do not want to build their own, they want yours and they want you. Animals are not capable of the abstract thought required to conceive then construct then modify, but that same brain is very capable of destruction and celebration.
I remember the Venice Beach of yesterday and this is only that by geographical coincidence; there is nothing beautiful, nothing nurturing, nothing enriching about it.
Certainly were a fair share of fatties there. Free freak show.
Juxtapose that vid with this one of NYC Gerard posted a while back. The country is unrecognizable.
http://americandigest.org/something-wonderful-1911-a-trip-through-new-york-city/
looks like a scene from Idiocracy. And the homeless tents were clearly visible. Does anyone go to the beach, in Venice?
The ACID in your writing BURRNNNNNNNNNS.
And so much NEEDS burning.
The noises, the fog and air density, the smells, miles of concrete and lights that fade into the distance and the ‘shuffling madness’ of these human things. This scene is reminiscent of the opening scene on some dim street in Hell, revealed in C. S. Lewis’ ‘Great Divorce’ except there are no buses and no one leaves.
Wow. What a perfect example of how California has turned into a 3rd world country.
However, the above video is pretty TAME when compared to all the Youtube videos of downtown L.A., or even North Hollywood or the San Fernando Valley.
Latest estimate I saw- 152,000+ homeless in California- over HALF of all the homeless in the entire USA. Like a house that has been infested with termites and left untreated for so many years that the parasites have rendered the structure uninhabitable, the damage is done, and it’s a total loss.
Half-joking and half-seriously, something along these lines might be the only solution, as stated by Riley in the movie “Alien.”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aCbfMkh940Q
Haven’t walked Venice Beach since my last business trip to LA in 2016. I used to spend a couple of hours there at the end of my last day of a trip before heading back to a Century Blvd. hotel and an early morning flight back to the East Coast. I do miss the way it once was.
Used to hang out there as a college kid in the late Seventies and early Eighties, smoking weed and enjoying the endless parade of beautiful women, hippies, surfers, tourists, and Jewish senior-home residents.
Now it looks like a cross between IDIOCRACY, BLADE RUNNER, and THE CAMP OF THE SAINTS.
Venice, Santa Monica, and all of Los Angeles County — ruined.
I never got there except in the movies and TV. I’ll never visit it now since I don’t like to travel outside the United States.
Behold. These are the people who vote Democrat and elect the ‘leaders’ who determine the fate of the people attempting to be left alone in the State of Jefferson.
Sincerely,
Elmo, in the State of Jefferson.
A sad thing to comprehend, but at this particular moment in time, it is better to be 70 years of age, with the memories of experiences you’ve had, than to be 20 with anticipation of the things to come.
@ tc
“I was last there in 1984.
Layered hair, girls on rollerskates, tits falling out everywhere.
It was glorious.”
Glorious it was! My girl friend at the time was a swim suit model and loved all beaches. And the guys at the beaches loved her presence. Wink, wink . . .
To be a Democrat is to be Satan.
No, these creeps (LA County beach swine) have not invaded Idaho. To be a Democrat here is best to be damn quiet about that affliction. Especially since the recent “election”.
Just got a new piece of info on the beach situation in LA County. The people are mostly wearing masks that are dipped in a room freshener (as per toilet room) to lessen the stench of human waste everywhere.
Apparently the sand on the beaches is loaded with human s**t. They are digging shallow holes in the sand and crapping as per house cats.
These are the type of people we’re asked to wear masks for. Out of consideration. For them.
Not a soul over 30.
First, found the link to you in Z-Man blog. Thank you…you and Thank you Z-Man. I enjoy your blog. The video is morning in Venice Beach last Feb I think. A talented bum plays a little piano for the crowd and my friend Paul holding a not very good bloody mary.