THE FINAL COLUMN (of 2021)
Another year is almost in the books and THANK GOD 2021 is passing by.
Here are a few random thoughts about the end of one year and the coming of the next one.
If you enjoy these columns and/or my blog in general, then please make sure to bookmark the site. As I continue to de-link from post-modernity, one of the things on the chopping block might be the email “Follow” feature.
The columns found a new (old) home back here following my departure from the little paper that has since gone back to its roots. All’s well!
Much of the rest of my more recent posting consists of simple links to the PPN daily shows. These keep growing in popularity by leaps and bounds. I think it’s now safe to say it’s the biggest little prepper news podcast in the world. Look for bigger and better things with the show come sometime next year. Maybe be ready to $ubscribe.
Those of you who watch or listen to the show know that as of January the First, all talk of “COVID” will center entirely on the war aspects, the war crimes, and the prosecution of the same. This is my personal outlook as well. There will be no third year of this most insidious retardery for me and mine. If that’s not for you, then, by all means, take your tenth(?) booster, stroke out, and go away.
I did enjoy much of the past twelve months. In addition to watching the final death of the Old US, the hilarious victory of the Taliban in Afghanistan, the rise of the Anti-Globalist Alliance, and the continuing madness over the common cold, I cut substantial ties with a variety of idiots, heathens, headcases, and drunks. This will continue in 2022. I’m hoping that the phone goes in 2023, with the departure from electricity sometime before the end of the decade (irrespective of the general loss as the dead society slips through civil war into third-world darkness).
I fell in love with Gal Gadot this year! See, show him a beautiful and true woman, and even a curmudgeonly Luddite will see a beautiful and true woman in a sea of otherwise useless crap.
You too, I can tell. May’s Gal Gadot: Good, True, and Beautiful was by far the most popular column and post on the site this year. I stand by every word, though now I could add three times more!
*Yes, I am aware of this week’s “Illuminati Eye” photo(s). It’s 1) a joke, 2) she’s playing another role, or 3) see my original first paragraph about the sultriness. If – then – okay. No Gammas.
Did you know I have graduated to full, master curmudgeon? Yes. New powers to be wielded at will.
There has to be more fiction ahead. Maybe some more non-fiction. I have (or practically have) a “real” publisher now. Stand by the credit cards and so forth.
Part of this year has been difficult because I maxed out on many important topics. I look forward to new energy in the coming months. I might even repeat a few of those topics, perhaps repeatedly.
Before I get to the next random thing, I remembered that nearly three years ago I wrote something for that
deceased rerooted little paper about other little papers – three small-town news outfits that then still got the job done. We’re down to one now. Keep the Rocket Blowing, gents and gals.
A very few of you who attended university with me in another distant century might recall my mocking relabeling of UGA’s Red & Black newspaper as the “Gay & Black” – owing to the target demographics as gleaned from the articles. For whatever reason, the other week I read a little from the
Red & Black Gay & Black. Very little has changed… But I did find out that the Dunkin Donuts on Prince recently suffered a fire. That made me think of several things.
For one, I’ll not ever need to read the G&B again. For another, I’m no longer impressed with UGA. At all. In fact, around the time these digital pages go dark and a little manual typewriter starts hammering, I foresee a series of degrees, diplomas, and certificates being renounced.
For yet another thing: what memories from the Dunkin Donuts on Prince! The one that came rushing back was about a morning some years ago. We’ll say it was 1979. This was, by the way, before Fred the Baker started rising before dawn to “make the donuts.” While en route to the mountains, an old class-C RV pulled into the Dunkin lot from Milledge. My old man and my mom’s dad went inside for sugar and caffeine. I stayed up in the comfy, spacious bed over the cab, where all the cool kids rode in old Winnebegos back in the day. It was lethally dangerous and yet, somehow, we all survived.
We were stronger then. We had a little left of that thing called freedom. We had more affordable donuts too. Now, we have a crime against humanity, freaks destroying higher education, and a citizenry too stupid to really notice or care. Then again, we also have Mrs. Gadot. And the promise of another new year. We have these grand words of grumpy nostalgic wisdom. Not so bad, now, is it?
Happy New Year, 2022! Onward.
*Tonight, friends, thrill and shiver to a tale of the macabre from that ever-popular genre of Vaxxploitation…
Night of the Living Vaxxed!
The 2021 [TPC] Halloween Spooktacular
by Perrin “Maskless” Lovett
*Brought to you by Diet LIME CHIP! Soda – Now in Grape!!!*
The Old Covington Cemetery, Halloween…
As the weary sun fell behind a line of ragged pine trees, somewhere a cat yowled ominously. Two somber figures moved among the tombstones of the beloved, the dearly departed, and old what’s his name.
‘Isn’t it a little strange these Halloween stories are always set on Halloween?’ Ann asked as MB kicked ants and confetti off of a low headstone. ‘I mean, it’s not even a little original.’
‘This marker epitaph is original enough: At least he was vaccinated!’ MB said with a grunt. ‘And he was. Good thing. He died of the Detrick-Harvard Variant just last week. Like with Colin Powell, if he hadn’t been fully vaccinated something really bad might have happened.’
‘Alldead?’ Ann asked, arching her eyebrows. ‘What kind of name is that?’
‘Paul Alldead. Just got the stone on for him. Another happy customer who will never complain or bounce a check or leave a bad review or ever bother me again,’ MB said while admiring a chip in the granite above a misspelling. ‘Really nice fellow. Hey! There he is now! Let’s say hello.’
Ann looked and saw a stiff, partially-decayed shell of a man limping and shuffling towards them. ‘Why is he out of the grave?!’ she asked with plausibly understandable alarm.
‘Paul!’ MB unwisely called out. ‘Good to see you up and— OH. MY. GOD! He’s a zombie!’
‘Yeah, duh,’ Ann mocked.
‘RUN!!’ they both yelled. And away they did run, just as fast as their feet would take them, or as fast as one needs to run to outrun a zombie that can barely limp and shuffle. Okay, it was more of a jog. It was… C’mon, man. You know the thing.
‘Wait,’ the corpse-like character mumbled after them. ‘Sorry to bother. I’m Ned Halfdead. Paul’s cousin. I came to apologize for the bounced check. Aaand, you’re gone. Oh, my, yummy ants!’
Ned was just bending down to dine like an apologetic, half-dead aardvark when he noticed a shadow. Looking up, he saw a tattered, pale, all-dead-looking man staggering forward out of the gloom. Half in fear, half delighted, Halfdead, and half Formicidae famished, he called out: ‘Paul! I thought you were de—’
In the car, as MB drove madly if nonchalantly towards town, trying to dodge all of the raccoons, missing most of them, Ann scanned the radio. Pausing on NPR, she heard a voice of calm, reason, reassurance, and constant hair-flipping. They both listened to Jen Psaki’s hasty press conference, already in progress:
… all a little concerned. But, no. The president certainly is real, he’s really the president, and he really is not a dead robot. I mean, just because he short-circuited and caught on fire while the greenscreen program crashed… It, uh, it. We’ll circle back to that.
As for the national emergency, there is nothing to be concerned about. Not much. Much at all. Maybe a little. Okay, shit, look! All the recently deceased fully vaccinated thralls are reanimating as brain-eating zombies. They say it is the ultimate ADE or VEI effect, Case Nightmare Zombie, or something. Just, um, just trust science. Maybe the sixteenth booster and those hourly pills can do something?
Yes. I mean, no. The military is not on it – all service members themselves being lately-deceased fully vaccinated zombies who now eat brains.
Now, I’d like to point to the success of the recent evacuation. Thanks to Empress Harr-, er, Joe Biden’s very real and legitimate and totally not fake administration, several dozen American refugees were just today airlifted into Afghanistan with the help of our Taliban partners. You, hey you! Non-binary thing from CNN! Why are you drooling like that?! My what? My brain?! Eeeeeeeeeeek!!!
As a faraway production engineer cried, ‘Oh, God,’ or possibly, ‘Mo’ sod(?),’ the signal abruptly ended. Ann turned off the radio and bowed her head. ‘Greenscreen has fallen,’ she whispered sorrowfully.
‘Best fake president we ever had,’ MB hacked, gagging on a Tic-Tac.
Around the old downtown square, a line of double-masked, plastic-wrapped, CRT-indoctrinated, futureless children stumped along. One to another, they sang cautiously, ‘One, two, Fauci’s coming for you. Three, four, lock the bathhouse door…’
Once again this year, they missed him, as he hid in the dark, fingering his sledgehammer. ‘Imma get that statue tonight,’ the Chairman growled to himself.
Kayla looked down from the balcony of TPC Headquarters, perplexed. ‘What a sad fool,’ she said. ‘Doesn’t he know they already changed the statue? What’s he gonna do? Knock down the new Bankroll Fresh Memorial?’
‘Shhhh, woman,’ Da shushed. ‘Was that another ambulance?’
‘I don’t know about you, but I’d love a gurney full of some Halloween candy! It’s a shame MB lost the petty cash box,’ Kayla mused.
‘I mean, what is there to stop these white militias from getting nuclear weapons?’ Da asked the evening air.
‘Sir, any given day, it’s about twelve Marines and a chain-link fence,’ said a pleasant if unknown voice. Da didn’t notice.
‘Who the hell are you?!’ Kayla asked in candy-starved fright.
‘Hello, ma’am,’ the pleasant, unknown young man said. ‘I’m Abner Snickdowl. The filler character that Mr. Lovett added. You know, with Bess and Ryan and Fred being a little scarce these days.’
Though Da still strained his ear for a siren that never called, Abner and Kayla nearly jumped out of their skin. The shrill, screaming, crying, wailing, greatly-alarmed, desperate-to-flee screaming wail of a cry from the Chairman echoed around the square: ‘Great Lawd Yemaya, SAVE US!!!!!’ They turned in time to see him bolt as if the very foul spirits of the recently be-vaxxed were after him. Down the street he fled, screaming, and never to be seen again. Until sometime later, of course. And, of course, when he did reappear, he was re-elected. His sledgehammer clattered to rest in a pothole he’d promised several times to fix but predictably never got around to.
The moans and groans then drew their attention to the other side of the square. Around the corner, came a slow-moving legion of Vaxx Zombies!™ Now and again, as they inched forward, they let forth the nearly-indecipherable cant, ‘brains.’ Or, honestly, it could have been ‘veins’ or ‘lanes.’ It was maybe just a little south of nearly indecipherable.
‘Now I’ll never review that candy for the Corner,’ Kayla said, fighting back tears. ‘ZOMBIES!!!’
‘Trust science,’ Da mumbled as he leaned over the railing in his vain search of auditory ambulatory greeting.
‘I have a horrible feeling that I know how this ends,’ Abner muttered dejectedly.
‘Hey!’ Kayla said, completely over her zombie scare. ‘Why do your hands stick out of your shoulders like that? Not to be rude, it’s just…’
‘It’s okay, ma’am,’ Abner said sweetly, flapping his little hands, ‘Mama was a good lady. She trusted science, Thalidomide, and all. Pa trusted science too. The Vioxx got him. My uncle in England trusted science. He died trying to kill bugs with Amiton. Shucks, I trust that science myself! Who wouldn’t, with such a great track record?’
‘Yeah, I didn’t need the whole life story,’ Kayla said dismissively.
Just then, Ann and MB sped into sight. They dodged a few of the foremost zombies, hit the sledgehammer-holding pothole, careened violently, and came to a stop below the balcony. In a moment, they huffed up the stairs and out to join the oddly-paired trio.
‘Some politician needs to promise to fix that damned pothole!’ MB bellowed.
‘Well, looks like the zombies are here!’ Ann said with surprising and rather misplaced cheer.
‘They just came out of nowhere,’ Abner said, waving one small hand from beneath his sloppily-cut sleeve.
‘Who in the blue blazes are you?’ Ann and MB asked at the same time.
‘I’m Abner Sni—’
‘He’s some dolt ringer or something,’ Kayla said. ‘DO NOT ask about his little hands.’
‘More ambulances by the day,’ Da said with a shrug.
‘What a weird night,’ MB said, holding his lighter between his teeth and poking it with a cigarette. ‘First zombies. Now, this pleasant but unknown character. And all those oversized anthropomorphic raccoons on the streets!’
‘Raccoons?’ Da asked as if coming out of a trance.
‘Yeah, big, man-sized raccoons, a lot of them wearing saggy pants and basketball jerseys,’ Ann explained. ‘All over the place, coming out of all these new apartments. Making odd gestures and signs with their hands, paws. They’re all headed west, it seems. All of them talking about how DAT Raccoon tha Kang! Or, something similar they were saying, maybe.’
‘What’s up with that? Where were all the raccoons going?’ Kayla asked, happy some other strangeness had momentarily displaced the terror of the be-jabbed dead. Everyone shrugged their shoulders. Everyone except Abner. Because, uh…
‘I know,’ he said helpfully; ‘They must be headed to Atlanta to cheer for that giant raccoon that escaped and climbed up the Georgia-Pacific Tower. Took some woman hostage. Y’all hear about that?’
Ignoring Abner – a scenario to which he was well accustomed – they all looked down to the lurching, moaning pack of zombies. The reanimated fully-vaxxed had congregated in the street beneath the balcony. Pathetically, they all extended their hands and arms upward (and one can imagine Abner’s resentment) as if to climb the air itself to dine upon the brains of our beloved TPC staff (and Abner, poor thing). Fortunately for the gang, the particular mRNA poison at issue did not grant the deceased the power of levitation or flight. Still, they were trapped. As more and more victims of the worst hoax and war crime in history stumbled and staggered into the square, the stranded group grew nervous. But then, they heard a sound. It grew louder by the second, a great roaring, grinding noise mixed with notes of modified techno-rock parody music.
And, around the corner and into the square came the racket: speeding along, crushing everything in its path, an Abrams tank roared into full view. Over the whine of the engine and the grumble of the tracks, from two speakers poorly rigged on the turret, “It’s Time To Go” by Boomer Patrol blasted away. The great weapon of war rolled over the back end of MB’s car and proceeded to crush the leading ranks of the zombies. Slowing to a crawl, it abruptly turned and did a short series of donuts in the street. Zombie heads and zombie limbs and zombie bodies and an assortment of ill-fitting clothing that sleepy next of kin had thought appropriate for burial shredded and flew about.
The mechanical beast came to rest, its turbine idling. The music stopped, time paused, and the balcony brigade looked on with interest. After a few moments, the turret began to rotate from the rear-facing position. With a whir, it swung around towards the new memorial. The main gun rose. And, in a deafening flash, Bankroll Fresh’s image joined Robert E. Lee, Jesus Christ, Christopher Columbus, Sacagawea, Hiawatha, Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt, The Old Pioneer Woman, Abraham Lincoln, Frank Rizzo, Mahatma Gandhi, Winston Churchill, Frederick Douglass, The Bird Girl, and all the other lately-deposed “racist” Confederate Generals in the dustbin of dystopia. As chunks of obliterated statue rained down among the mindless zombies (the vaxx victims, not the voters), the top hatch opened, a fragrant column of smoke arose, and a voice sarcastically called out from inside, ‘there’s your social justice, bastards. Big guns matter.’
And then, from out the hatch, there emerged, like a knight in cigar-reeking armor, the hero!
‘Perrin, old man!’ MB called out exuberantly.
‘You’ve come to save us!’ Kayla called.
‘Could have warned us about our ears,’ Ann said.
‘Abner on duty, sir!’
‘Did you pass many ambulances?’
‘Yeah, great and whatever,’ Perrin said as he sat up straight in the commander’s perch and jimmied the machine gun. ‘Gimme a second. Ears? Yeah, most uncomfortable vehicle ever.’
While the balcony birds lamented not covering their ears and while more zombies shuffled over the remnants of their crushed comrades, flattened like the curve of those two weeks that never ended, Perrin checked the feed on the Ma Deuce. Then, he proceeded to sweep the street, cutting zombies into pieces while cackling like a crackpot conspiracy theorist at play in the all-too-common position of being dead right all along while spraying zombies with .50-caliber BMG rounds from a tank in one of those patented run-on sentences that really does and, yes, on a Halloween evening, as cliche as that might be, or something, etc; and I’ll just stop this one right here, and now, the end. After a hundred or so rounds, or maybe a few more, he stopped, fully climbed out, stood still, and addressed the team.
‘I’m going to enjoy a delicious, cold Diet Lime Chip® soda! It’s better because it’s now available in this great GRAPE flava, er, flavor,’ he said as if delivering a cheap advertising pitch and while unscrewing the bottle top. He paused and read, mostly to himself, the side label: ‘Grape! Purpa Drank! *Skittahz and sizzurp “sold” separately. Big Floyd’s ghost, these idiots pander harder than the cucks in the GOP.’ With that, he took a healthy swallow. And … he immediately began spitting and spewing, hacking and gasping. Throwing the bottle, which hit one of the masked, miserable kids who had hung around and who you’d probably forgotten all about, he staggered to the edge of the turret and vomited all over a zombie below. Still wheezing and spluttering, he leaned down and grabbed the towel-like turban off the head of another zombie, who in life, had been much more American than you, and wiped his mouth – all the while uttering curses too vile to print here.
‘Horrible!’ he yelled in a blind rage. ‘Almost as bad as the original!’ As he continued to rant and pant angrily, he dropped down to the gun again and blasted a few more we’re all in WHAT NOW?! together walking corpses. Finally, he once more stood up and turned to face the bewildered crowd who were still on the balcony, still stranded, and still suffering from painful ringing ears.
‘Nice night, huh?’ Perrin asked with a smirk.
‘Where did you get the tank?’ Ann asked.
‘Well, with the Army all gone and turned into ghouls, the stuff is free for the taking. Of course, it never was that difficult to appropriate their equipment anyway. Armories wide open, coast to coast. Hell, even libertarians did it,’ Perrin said with a gleam in his eye.
‘Oh, no!’ Da cried. ‘I hope nobody gets any assault rifles!!!’
At that, Perrin laughed out loud. ‘Yeah, can’t have that!’ he said while glancing down at the 65-ton main battle tank that he’d just strolled up to, cranked, and driven away in. ‘Anyway, with those dozen Marines out of the way, I’ve got my boys down at Kings Bay picking up the good stuff!’ He leaned down and casually fired off a few more rounds without bothering to aim or look or think – just like Alec Baldwin.
‘Liberty!’ MB said with pride; ‘Legalize Columbia! Democrats racist like tomatoes.’
‘Damn right,’ Da huffed. Perrin fired one last shot while cocking a mildly concerned eyebrow at the balcony.
‘Why’s that bloody rope trailing behind the tow hitch,’ Kayla asked.
‘The whu?’ Perrin mumbled as he looked at incoming Trident II launch system codes on his phone. ‘Oh, crap! That was Laughing Albert from the drug company.’
‘The CEO of—’ Marshall started to ask.
‘Former CEO. And war criminal. I wanted to interrogate him so I tied him up. Forgot about him like the family dog in the vacation movie. Ah well, one torture’s as good as another,’ Perrin said. He suddenly laughed nonstop, just the way Albert had always laughed on television whenever he was asked if he took the death jab his evil company developed in conjunction with the other luciferians. Whereas he had been able to eventually cough out a rough “no,” Perrin concluded his fit, saying, ‘hey, at least he’s in hell with his father, the devil. Good riddance! Now to hunt down the rest…’
‘Why are all the zombies still under the balcony and not gathering around you?’ Kayla inquired smartly.
‘Why? Because they only eat their own. I wasn’t stupid enough to fall for a specialized military operation and take poison from people who have openly stated they want everyone dead, and that the inventor said no human should ever take, and which had a 100% fatality rate in all animal trials, all because of overinflated numbers in a hoax based around weaponized perceptions of the common cold and flu designed to cover up the world economic collapse, at best, and at worst to usher in a new age of international globalist satanic slavery. I mean, really, who could be that retarded?’ Perrin said somewhat smugly, absolutely correctly, and to the chagrin of at least one member of his audience.
‘Wait. Then why do you keep shooting them?’ Ann asked.
‘I mean, why not?’ he answered. The crowd found great wisdom in his simple logic.
‘So, they’re just after us?’ Kayla sought to clarify.
‘Oh, yeah,’ Perrin rejoined. ‘One of you must be vaxxed. They can smell it.’
‘I knew it!’ screamed Da, suddenly coming to life. ‘It’s this Abner! He’s come to lead us all to our brain-devoured deaths!’ With that and with a surprising show of strength, Da seized the pleasant, previously unknown, armless character and hoisted him overhead.
While Abner begged for mercy and Perrin retouched the foot of his cigar, the others chanted, ‘Vaxx he azz! Vaxx he azz!’ Then, as one might expect, Da hurled Abner from the balcony. The doomed filler character landed in a heap among the zombies.
‘My legs! I can’t feel my legs!’ Abner screamed before fading away just as he had feared, having previously read the script, unlike the others. But, interestingly, he neither reanimated nor was of any interest to the science-trusting former TV news watchers. All dead (uh, of the lively deceased, not Mr. Alldead) arms again raised and pawed towards the balcony.
‘Well, crud,’ Da said, slouching guiltily.
‘Whadda kill my ringer fer?! Whadda kill my ringer fer?!’ Perrin yelled.
‘You mean it’s one of us?’ MB said with a shutter.
‘Looks like it, you Abner-cidal maniacs,’ Perrin said as he lowered back into the turret. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have a new Christian monarchy to govern. Enjoy the mess you made. You’re on your own!’
‘Wait!’ they all called, as the zombies bobbed and belched below. ‘Save us!’
As he closed the hatch, he called, ‘Read the Constitution to them! Better yet, vote! Vote hard.’
Finally realizing the political futility of their predicament, they sobbed and cursed. But it was too late. They watched sadly as the turret returned to the transport configuration. Then the tank, now sans the Day of the Pillow(!) justice tunes, turned about and drove away down the street. They watched it as it reached an intersection. And, then… They all jumped as an enormous clawed white reptilian foot stomped down with enough force to completely crush the pavement several feet into the ground. Perrin deftly swerved aside just in time. The Piedmonteers looked on in sheer terror as he overcorrected and drove straight through the local CBD store, utterly destroying it. A grievous injury! But their collective gasps and wails were silenced, drowned in a sea of noise from the clouds. Those silly kids had thought the boom of the old 120 was loud. Now, smashing down from above, there came a rolling, undulating roar of defiance and rage. Ears split, windows shattered, and the earth itself shook. Most unexpectedly, several out-of-sequence Japanese people ran around among the zombies, screaming, ‘Ritezilla! Ritezilla!’
Over them loomed a ridiculously tall white lizard, likely a giant albino Iguana or some other very large white lizard. Except this one was beyond very large. Enormous? Gargantuan? L-A-R-G-E. And white. With another roar, the beast picked up a bus and threw it back down. Then it waded through the buildings, moving generally towards A-town.
Having forgotten the now trivial zombies below, the gang stood rooted in fear. At last, MB broke the silence: ‘I wonder if that thing is going after the giant raccoon in Atlanta? That’d be a heck of a fight. Clash of the titans, so to speak. Battle of the monsters: Kang Koo—’ His words temporarily ended when, in a final parting lash, the monster’s tail reduced TPC headquarters to rubble. As the hapless gang dug themselves to safety, far away, carrying on the wind, they thought they heard a tune…
*Now, you’re probably thinking the tune they heard was one of Perrin’s pitiful parodies, perhaps a cheap takeoff on “Godzilla” by BOC. You’d be wrong (for once in a Halloween). They might have heard THIS.
**As originally written for (and about) TPC – where they can no longer be bothered to publish such things. This is, in fact, the final edition. Deo Vindice
Sense of the Senseless
It’s 2021 and, as I edge closer to Fifty, I still grapple with the hard fact that I live in a collapsed society, a decimated culture, and a dying country, the base nation of which is already deceased or subsumed. If you’re a real American over Forty (and, yeah, I’ll have to raise the age soon), then you probably know what I’m getting at. It’s okay; you don’t have to even admit it, just so long as you know.
I find it fascinating how many people still haven’t come around to reality. Many who do, God bless them, still can’t break some of the old habits. Here’s to hoping that they just need a little more time – and that there’s a little more time left.
This is a column that never really got any drafting traction. After so many years of relentless drum-beating, I suppose I’m a little tired. As I told someone on the phone this morning, everything that is happening to Americans and the West is the just and deserved Wrath of God visiting, as promised, upon so much wickedness. For my part, I am optimistically grateful for all that has come and is coming of the total collapse.
“In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.” 1 Thessalonians 5:18 (KJV).
That passage is rather easy when the things that pass are pleasant. But, it’s just as important, maybe more important, to be grateful for the “bad” things too. If the past two years have done nothing else, then they have at least made clear who we are, where we are, exactly what we are up against, and exactly Who is with us – the will of God in Jesus Christ concerning us.
We’ll be back, hard and heavy, next week. This is enough for now, but I have thought of a happy bonus: a rerun!
Here, without any updates (which I could easily append), is my most popular article of the year. And, yes, I am aware of the stupid new “Family Guy” cartoon. Still,
If the old canard is true, that the sultry Jewess is deployed to beguile the Goyim, then Gal Gadot is Judaism’s ultimate weapon. I don’t think the ancient rumor is necessarily correct, but if it is, then in this case I’m okay with it. Heck, I like it. The ranting, raving, sub-literate mental cases of the social media world do not. Wonder Woman triggered the depraved, the wicked, and the stupid. With this:
Gal Gadot, Twitter/Instagram.
Pray for peace, incur the wrath. You likely know what the socials and the gekaufte journalisten say. Gadot’s simple, heartfelt, easy-to-read, and easy-to-understand message of peace was met by a fusillade of vitriol from the darkest depths of the underworld. For the sake of positive redirect, I’ve decided to reframe the attacks in terms of reasons why every sane, decent person should love Gal Gadot. First, I’d like to get a few things out of the way.
They say they want to “cancel” Mrs. Gadot and have everyone “unfollow” her. They failed. She’s Gal Gadot. She’s not getting canceled. She’s only gained followers since last week. Regardless of extremely poor media coverage, there is no backlash from her fans. They love her. Period.
The fools mocked about “ratio-ing” her after she blocked moronic comments on her sweet note. (The devil’s tools then shifted their focus to older, unrelated posts). Ratio-ing means they wanted to drive the number of Retweets (against her) above the simple “Likes” in her favor. A ratio, and I don’t expect the average hater to understand this, is a mathematical concept. Using the numbers in the above capture, from May 16, 2021, we see that the total aggregate of Retweets and Tweet Quotes is 138,500. Assuming that all of them are negative – and they’re not – then they are still outnumbered by the 145,000 Likes. Her message has over one million Likes on Instagram. People love her. People stand with her.
The relative few who don’t like her, sad cases, for the most part, call her a variety of names like Zionist, Nazi, murderer, baby-killer, Hasbara agent, oppressor, and, yes, racist. She’s a high-value celebrity, so she catches it from all sides. Israeli/Jewish loons and hardcore pan-Zionists say she betrayed her nation and people by staying neutral or by curing favor with the Gentiles and Arabs. Mean people say a lot of things. Too Jewish or not Jewish enough.
A few detractors may sincerely have valid points. Leaving a legitimate plea about the war on one of Gadot’s National Geographic IMPACT episodes might be misplaced, but it is somewhat understandable. I suspect she is sympathetic to all licit parties.
There is the legion of jackasses who just want to abuse her, her family, and anyone/thing she might care about. These sorts were leaving idiotic, derogatory remarks long before any of the recent events commenced. Some admit they hated her from day one. Last week just gave them an excuse to really crank up their pitiful garbage.
Many Gadot-bashers are, I deduce, robots and paid shills. There’s just too much homogeneity and synchronization across many of the comments on multiple platforms. That made me realize something; this isn’t really about Gaza and it’s certainly not about Gal Gadot. It has the signature of the Unrestricted Warfare described by PLA Cols. Liang and Xiangsui in 1999. There are multiple fifth-generation conflicts being waged around the world by multiple parties for multiple reasons. Some of them concern Israel, the Arab-Muslim Middle East, and the United States. Who and why? I have no definitive idea. However, a popular movie star provides an attractive vehicle for spreading the overwhelming chatter. Strange things do happen – more frequently than one imagines.
Has there been any effect on our beloved actress? In the long run, she’ll be just fine. As more than a few tabloids report, she’s gone Romeo Siera on the social front. She did an interview with National Geographic though it may have been recorded earlier. The world press has been as useless as ever. I briefly searched Israel outlets for information. All I found was a rehashing of generic wire nonsense at the Times and JPost. They are, as might be expected, preoccupied at the moment.
We’ve learned another great thing about Gal Gadot! She is not a Republican. She may be quiet but she’s not backing down or apologizing. Bots and shills aside, she’s dealing with SJWs. All they do is lie, double down on the lies, and use the lies to project what’s really wrong with them. It’s their sad burden to bear. Let them. Gadot was in the IDF and she works in Hollywood. She has thick skin. Still, at some level, the unjustified acidity hurled at her has to burn. It’s problematic trying to help soothe a terrible situation not of one’s making only to be stabbed in the back for the trouble. Something tells me she will gather whatever pain she feels and channel it into something else bigger, better, and more productive.
She’s a sweetie, they have an agenda. She’s pretty, they’re jealous. She’s successful, they’re ignorant. She’s good, they are wicked. To celebrate her and to contrast her with them, here are my seven reasons Gal Gadot is the best export Israel ever sent to the unworthy world.
One. She’s Jewish.
Proudly, openly, and from what I gather from fast yet reliable research, faithfully. In terms of non-ethnic affiliation, my guess would be Reform, but I’m not in the know. Were she a Christian, she’d strike me as a Methodist. The plain fact is that the SJWs and other evil-doers hate God and Gal Gadot is His good servant. אלוהים יברך אותך, אישה מתוקה.
Two. She’s Israeli.
Proudly, openly, and defiantly. Whether she considers herself one, she is a nationalist to one degree or another. Per her very plain words, she’s concerned for everyone – through the lens of her people first. Israel is her nation! This bold, kind defense is right, being in accordance with the actions, instructions, and predictions of the Almighty.
Three. She’s Family-Oriented.
Based on my research, she’s a mother of two with one on the way. (Congratulations!) [Easy update – Three Daughters, now!] She’s been married to the same man for over a decade – in Hollywood. Loyal fans joke that he, Yaron Varsano, is the luckiest man alive. He might be though his fortune is only one-half of the happy equation. She’s also lucky if that’s the right word. She’s a wonderful mother, wife, daughter, relative, and friend. Some of the trolls have stooped so low as to wish her children harm, which really tells one everything about the trolls. Gadot obviously loves children and not just her own. I saw some videos of her posing with fans at conventions. While she was kind to everyone, from the way she treats the kids, one would think she was the one there to see them. One will also note from these interactions the mother in her: effortless, natural positioning of children for photos; hugging, picking up, and cooing over toddlers; and straightening clothes without looking.
This is a Zionist Nazi Oppressor?
She went to a children’s hospital in the full, theatrical Wonder Woman costume and visited with the kids and their families until, as it sounds, they got tired of her. CDAN, which has nothing negative to report about Gadot (that says something), praised her kindness towards the young even when they interrupted her at restaurants. Again, from the encounters, it’s more like she’s the children’s fan than the other way around.
Four. She’s Painfully Beautiful.
This one goes without saying – yet it’s perfectly fitting. We speak of the good and the true. Sometimes beauty is literal. There’s a reason why the wicked hate beautiful things and people.
Five. That Accent.
The sound matches the sight. Listen to anything she’s ever said.
Six. She’s a Legitimately Gifted Actress.
Her most famous role is performing as a comic book character. Yet she does something beyond bringing a fanciful fictitious persona to life. There are, in the films I’ve seen, numerous scenes with necessary cliche dialogue. Wonder Gal still makes them work, makes them believable. One doesn’t see Gal Gadot acting, one sees the character. It’s enough to almost suspend my near-impenetrable disbelief.
I have no idea whether she had formal training, or if she’s a natural, or both. She has a gift. I watched a few of her home videos, social media shorts, and interviews and she just has a way of melding speech, movement, intensity, and keen intellect into something instantly convincing and marvelous. Whatever it is, it works. She does too. The hours and effort involved in her business are insane. Before the Twitter storm, she was criticized for being, surprise, surprise, a rich elitist living in a magic castle in the clouds. If so, then she earned it. Be inspired, not jealous. Be thankful.
Seven. She Uses Her Celebrity for the Greater Good.
She doesn’t have to and still, she does. With scores of millions of fans worldwide, she has the platform to make a difference. Her missive last week was an attempt along those lines in addition to her knowledgeable opinion about something very close to home. Using her very intimate remarks, she tried to help everyone. The dull scorn of an angry world notwithstanding, she did.
She does that frequently and intentionally. For anyone unsatisfied with her substantial philanthropic work, I ask, “What have you done?” We all know the answer.
Gadot knows people listen to her. They listen because she’s a wonderful woman and because there is a greater Power in and behind her. Ironically, all the baseless attacks of late only reinforce that truth. Proof of evil often leads to proof of goodness and, ultimately, of God. The wicked attack the good and the just because they are good and just. Gal Gadot was given her talents for a reason. Her use of them for our benefit is a miracle. Good, True, and Beautiful.
Thank you, Wonder Woman.
Adjusted Numbers, Sustained Outlook
Last month, I wrote about the in-progress demographic collapse and destruction of the American nation and the in-progress breakup of the United States. The column was somewhat popular and I thank you. And I knew it wasn’t going to be published in certain quarters. That’s all fine and well, though I sense that even in those places the walls of reality are getting so close as to warrant frustrated attention.
The frustration grows. For some reason – call it continuing scholarship … or morbid curiosity – I again consulted the Census numbers for 2020. Our stalwart government servants are indeed leaking the information out slowly so as to torture Americans for as long as possible. Well, those Americans that remain.
Previously, I pondered:
If the number happens to be -439,000, then we will be knocked back to the same population we were at two decades ago, 195,975,000. In other words, Whites have remained statistically stagnant this entire Century even as the total US population has increased by 50 million people. That accounts for the drop of the White percentage of the population from 69.1% in 2000 to less than 60% today (likely 57-59%).
[In 2020, there was a net loss of 482,000 Whites, sufficient to erase all gains of the entire 21st Century. The total loss, from 2016 through 2020, is 1,245,103. Assuming the trend continues this year, we could stand, at the end of December, with 2,000,000 fewer Whites. All other measured groups continue to gain population, both as percentage shares and in total numbers. Additionally, we absorb, daily, around 7,000 illegal invaders (that the Empire knows about). That means that as we lose another 500,000, 600,000, or 700,000+ Whites in 2021, they will be replaced by approximately 2,000,000 not-Americans, almost 100% of them non-White.
I think it is safe to say that the promises from the Senate, regarding the Hart-Celler Evil Act of 1965, that there would be no noticeable demographic changes, were all intentional and calculated lies. It is also safe to remove the false and slanderous “conspiracy theory” label from the Great Replacement, now, reality and not any kind of theory, as it is statistically and observably demonstrable and is a reality that the modern architects boast about with glee].
Hark! They revised some of the data, which I genuinely believe reflects honest and accurate reporting. The results are honestly, accurately depressing. There is a wee bit of fuzziness concerning the total number of Whites alive today, adjusted up from about 195 million to 196 million. That’s within the margin of error and not a concern (outside the 57-59% of the population part). The problem is that the net decline in Whites during 2020 was not 439,000, nor 482,000. Based on the most recent assessment, which, again, I think is fair and accurate, we lost another 627,854 Whites in 2020.
Pick a comparable metro area and imagine it just vanishing. B-A-D.
In the past five years, we have lost a net total of almost 1.4 million Heritage Americans. If 2021 is anything like 2020, then the number rises to 2 million and some change. If the constant trend of increase continues, we may have already reached or exceeded that total.
The rates and numbers of White births and deaths have essentially been reversed. As older Whites die off at a slowly accelerating pace, fewer young Whites are having children. It’s math, not magic – though there is evil behind it, like a satanic plan unfolding.
Part(s) of that plan are seeing hospital maternity wards close as the governing idiots terminate the intelligent nurses who refuse to poison themselves. The plan resulted in a forecast that America will need fewer OBGYNs and pediatricians this decade and beyond. Of course, if American women aren’t having children, what would be the point otherwise?
When a People die out, their culture dies with them. We’re already seeing it, seeing the replacement. There’s a reason why the National Archives just added “warning labels” to the sacred Constitution and other early American documents. The replacement population, having no interest in the enlightenment, limited government, freedom, or civilization, are offended that men in America once revered those things. But, we’re all equal and so forth…
Should one track the decline, just this century – and I don’t really recommend the effort – then one will notice that the real slide started in 2008. Previously, despite the slowing of our growth, we did manage to add another 300-400,000 new Whites each year. However, in 2008 the great decrease commenced. It led us into a virtual standstill in 2015, and into red, negative territory in 2016. Each year thereafter, the numbers keep getting worse (assuming one cares about America, that is).
The reader will recall what inevitability befell the US back in 2008. These numbers are proof that the damaging effects of the Great Recession have never ended, in fact, growing worse, year to year.
These effects are the product of many factors. Chief among them are the Boomers abortion genocide of younger White generations and the collapsing of the globohomo monetary and economic Ponzi scheme in the US. In other words, two of the greatest contributors to the demise are (and were) demographics and debt.
The third to half of Generation X, the Millennials, and Gen Z murdered by our selfish, stupid older generations, were replaced by a never-ending stream of incompatible foreigners. There is no magic dirt and there are no magic words; these new peoples are not and never will be Americans. Yet, they grow while we decline.
The unaborted Whites of the past 50 years faced cultural, political, and economic challenges never faced by any cohort of Americans before. All the while, the wicked Boomers preached the same exceptional lies of exceptionalism that they themselves had helped to make impossible in attainment. Young Whites have been misled into debt and despair to the point where they cannot afford to have children – while living the fake “American dream,” that is. The kids were already struggling up the hill; 2008 tossed a grenade down the slope.
Are there solutions? Of course! The formula can be reversed with relative ease by simply having more Posterity children while deporting incompatibles. Both of those things will happen, God willing, in the new European, Western nations that form in the wake of the unfolding Balkanization of the Disunited States. They won’t or can’t happen in the here and now because too many people cannot see or refuse to see the problem, let alone speak of solving it. In fact, the most debased of these fools still refuse to recognize that there is an “us,” let alone a “them.”
All of this is the end result of the embrace of both wickedness and stupidity. One by itself is bad enough; together they are a nation-destroying combination. And all of this was to be expected. There’s even a Book that promises such affliction in payment for wickedness. Here we are.
If you could kindly divert your attention from the shit-stupid propaganda on the TeeeeeeVee for a moment…
We lost another 482,000 White Americans in 2020. That’s roughly 1324 per day or 55 every hour. We lost almost one White person per minute. This year, if the prevailing trend holds, we stand to lose perhaps another 800,000 (we’ll know next year). That’s like eight-ten times the US death toll in the neocon’s misadventure in Kabul today – every hour of 2021. One less American every 45 seconds.
Has CNN or FAUX mentioned this? No. They and their fellow travelers on the socials will deny it even as they celebrate it. If you cannot see that these people are evil and are your enemies, then you are stupid and beyond help.
Okay … back to “Biden” or the uncommon cold or whatever.
There are many to chose from in Wallethub’s 2021 Happiest Cities list.
They also for Best and Worst Places to Families and more.
Yeah, note the metrics they use, be cognizant that these are only larger towns, and then see if you can spot some trends. The grass is sometimes greener and some places – I’ll not name them – are just plain terrible.