Sessions in Hell.

It wasn't at all what he'd expected. There was no fire. No brimstone. Instead of sulfur he smelled magnolias. Instead of a blazing inferno it was just a regular June day in Alabama. Hot, to be sure, but certainly not enough to cause him to wail and gnash his teeth. It wasn't dark and gloomy, either. The sun was shining, the birds singing, the bees a-buzzing, and everywhere around him was the sound of laughter. Their laughter burned him up faster than any hell fire ever could.

One might not think this was damnation, he thought bitterly, if not for the company,

"Boy, why are you standing there staring at the clouds? Ain't you got work to be doing?"

The voice startled him. The sudden fear that rose up inside him at the sound of it filled him with hatred, for them and himself, but he dared not give it a voice. "Yessir." he squeaked weakly, shuffling off to get another tray of hors d'oeuvres, as peals of laughter lashed at his bent, scarred back.

The kitchen hummed as usual. There was no shortage of food or drink to be taken out to the party guests, who had endless appetites, but he was the only server here. The cook, his only collaborator in this endless and goalless endeavor, glanced at him with desperate, bloodshot eyes as he entered and was immediately scolded by the kitchen master.

"Get back to work!" her overseer, a monster of a woman with skin like mahogany that loomed over her always, bellowed at once. She jumped visibly at the shouted command and, returning her attention immediately to her monstrous sixteen burner gas range, continued to stir her many pots.

"You see this here, Jeffy?" The overseer said to him in a mockingly conspiratorial tone, "Paula thinks she's special. Maybe this kitchen isn't hot enough for her. What do you think?"

"I don-"

"Shut the fuck up, you little elf looking bitch!" She screamed at him immediately. "No one cares what you think! Get the fuck out of my kitchen!"

He grabbed another of the large silver serving platters and exited the kitchen quickly. Her cackles seeming to physically push him from the room. 

Outside again, Jefferson Beauregard Sessions the Third began to move from one group of party goers, seated in groups of six or so and scattered across the gigantic lawn, to another so that they could graze from his tray. Most of them ignored him completely. He preferred that. It stung him a little when they waved him away without looking at him, dismissing him as though he were an animal, but he said nothing. Any protest would be followed swiftly by all manner of harsh punishments. 

Sometimes they put him in the stocks. Other times, he was flogged. Once, when he'd struck a party goer for tripping him and sending his tray flying onto another, he'd been forced to wear an iron collar with three long sharp prongs that protruded from it. They'd engraved a big "J" on the front of it just for him, they'd said with glee as they'd fastened it around his neck, because he was their special guy. Once they'd removed the collar, some weeks later, they had hung it up above his bed in his quarters. It was the first and last thing he saw each day. 

"Come here, boy!" That voice again. He broke out into gooseflesh immediately. He knew who it was even before he turned to look upon the speaker. He stared hard at Jeff over his steepled fingers. 

"Y-yessir!" Sessions replied in a meek voice as he rushed over to offer up his tray.

"Mmm! These look good!" The man said approvingly as he plucked a fried green tomato slider from the tray. "You ever try these, boy?" The question was followed by giggles from the other guests at the table.

"No, sir." 

"Aw! That's too bad." He replied, mockingly. This exchange happened in one way or the other every single day. Or what seemed like a day to Jeff. Time was funny here. "Why not, boy? Why can't you eat?" More chuckles followed.

"Because this food is for people, sir."

"That's right, Jeff. This food is for people. And what are you?"

"I'm just a pasty little savage. A white devil that deserves nothing but hatred. A rabid cloven hoof animal that is no better than a cow, goat, or pig." Jeff knew the words now. They'd been hard to learn, at first, but he couldn't forget them now. They were as seared onto the surface of his brain as their brands were on the surface of his skin. 

"Run along now, boy." He said, as the chuckles turned to roars of approval and amusement.

"Yessir, Mister Malcolm, sir." He said, relieved to be dismissed, and turned to leave. Suddenly, the air was pushed from his lungs as a heavy fist drove up into his diaphragm with impossible force. The punch lifted him high into the air and sent his tray spinning through the air. As he crashed to the ground at a sickening, bone crushing velocity his vision dimmed and he almost rejoiced at the loss of consciousness that was surely coming. Alas, it did not. Gasping for air, tears streaming down his face, his every bone and muscle screaming in horror, Jeff looked up at his assailant.

"I'm a bad man!" He yelled down at him, throwing back his head and howling with glee. 

"As much as I abhor violence in all it's forms, that shit right there is pretty damn funny."

"You're not wrong, Martin." Malcolm said.

"I don't know, man. It just seems so heavy. Like, is this guy really that bad?" 

"You're smoking entirely too much grass, Jimi." Martin replied. "This man is the very scum of the earth. His entire existence was spent making life harder for our people and easier for his own. He trampled the very freedom that we all fought for, that we all lived for, and that we all died for. As far as I'm concerned, he deserves every torment, trial, and tribulation that the after life can provide."

"Ok, man. Whatever. He's bad. But look. This is heaven, man. Heaven, you dig? And we're spending it being mean? It just seems wrong." Jimi ended his short speech with a long drag of the joint that was forever in his hand.

"Pffft. Man, fuck that. Punch that bitch ass motherfucker again, Ali."

"Of course, you would say that, Pac!" laughed Malcolm. "What about you, Jesus? What do you think?"

All eyes turned to the bearded, dark-skinned man at the far end of the table. He'd been quiet during the entire exchange, neither talking nor laughing, and he looked at them now as if seeing them all for the first time. Jeff looked up at him, hopefully.

"Brothers," Jesus said, "This is your heaven and his hell. Everything you see here is for you to enjoy. That includes the suffering of this evil creature that lies here before us. He was cruel, wicked, spiteful, and vicious. He lacked all kindness, honesty, and empathy. He loved nothing but wealth and cherished nothing but power. He served false gods and worshiped false idols. His damnation has been commanded by my father and yours." Jesus reached out and snatched the joint from Jimi's fingers. He took a long, thoughtful pull from it, and, smiling broadly down at Sessions, said "Punch that bitch ass motherfucker again, Muhammad."

Grinning, Ali lunged at Jeff, who was still prone, and planted a devastating right hook in his dumb, shocked face. This time the darkness did take him. He let it slide over him like a warm blanket and drifted into oblivion. 

Rapper, Actor, Gangsta, Spy.

0000 hours.

September 8th, 1996.

Beneath the Las Vegas strip.


The faint sound of sirens drifted down to him from above. Even down here, in the dark, he could hear the chaos that he'd created. The crisis actors they'd employed were right now screaming to the police about the murder they had just witnessed. Hundreds of them. A fake homeless man was telling an LVPD detective about where he'd been when the shooting had started. Two women, planted to portray groupies on the way to the club, were being interveiwed by another about the chase and shoot out that they'd been caught in the midst of. A group of four KBG agents, disguised as South Side crip gang members from LA,  lurked nearby in order to be spotted at the scene. Below it all agent Oleg Abram Romanoff smiled to himself with great satisfaction. After ten long years undercover he was finally able to return home. He longed to shed this identity and be himself again. Still, he would miss it.

It was a lot of fun being Tupac.

1427 hours.

May 23rd, 1985.

Leningrad, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.

He'd been a very youthful looking seventeen years old when the operation had started. He'd been finishing his eleventh year at St. Petersburg High School 281. On an unremarkable Thursday afternoon he'd been summoned via the loudspeaker from his English class to the principal's office. When he'd arrived he'd found the room occupied not by his principal, Kira Petrovna Gribanovskaya, but by a severe young man in an expensive tailored suit. He was reclined in her chair with his feet on her desk.

"Sit down, Oleg." He ordered him. And sit he did. "Why are you here?"

"You sent for me." He responded simply.

"Ah. Indeed." The man nodded approvingly. "But I do not mean in this room. Why are you here? Why are you in this place?"

"I am here to learn."

"To learn what, exactly?" The man asked with a smile.

"I am currently taking English, Latin, Russian military history with an-"

"No. Stop. This is not what I mean either." He interrupted.

Oleg was puzzled. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"I know. We will change all of this." Smiling again. He removed his feet from the desk and leaned forward. "I want to know why you are wasting your time in this school reading books you have already read and answering questions you already know the answers to instead of being of use."

"I suppose... I suppose I just haven't found my next step." Oleg admitted reluctantly.

"Yes!" He shouted as he slammed his palms down on the desk. "This is what I suspected! You have not yet found a purpose! Is this not so?"

"Yes. It is so."

"Of course. As I said." The man stood, rounded the desk, and leaned on the front edge of it. Standing between it and Oleg he took a more intimate tone. "Oleg, what if I told you that I could make you one of the biggest stars that the world has ever seen? That your unfortunate skin condition could be your greatest asset?"

Oleg didn't have a "skin condition". Oleg was black. Still, in Russia it was almost accepted that being black was a disability. Luckily for Oleg, he'd been the smartest person in every room he'd ever stepped into since he could walk. At this moment, however, he was not so sure. A million questions swirled around his head. He asked none of them. "I'd ask you where to sign." He said instead.

The man roared with laughter. "Fantastic!" He bellowed, taking Oleg's hand into his own and shaking it, and Oleg, vigorously. "You are doing a great thing for your country. For the world."

"I want nothing more..." He let the last word hang and the man picked up immediately on the implied question.

"Yes, of course. My name." He grinned from ear to ear and reached into his jacket. "My name is Vlad. I will be your handler for this entire operation." From his coat he produced a Walkman.

"Is that... Is that a Sony?!" Oleg asked, impressed despite himself.

"Yes. It's for you, Oleg." He handed Oleg the coveted object. "But more important than the Walkman is the tape inside it. Press play."

Oleg placed the headphones on his ears and hit the play button. From the tiny speakers blared music that he'd never heard the like of before. There was rock guitars, heavy drums, keyboards, and all manner of strange instruments that he couldn't place. Over all of it, in time with the beat, was heavily American accented talking.

"What is this?" Oleg asked, yelling over the music that only he could hear. Vlad laughed and pulled the headphones gently from his ears.

"Run DMC." Vlad said.

"Run what?"

"It's called Hip Hop, Oleg." He said, laughing.  "It's going to change the world. And you're going to help."

Vlad grabbed him by his shoulders and lifted him to his feet so that they were face to face and eye to eye.

"I am going to make you the biggest rapper that ever lived, Oleg. I'm going to make you a legend. I'm going to put all eyes on you." He turned back to the desk, plucked his hat from it's surface, and put it on. "Come on, my boy. It's time we make some changes."

To serve.

He stared up at the sun defiantly as the moon began to move in front of it. Standing here atop Fort Knox his view of the eclipse was perfect. More importantly, his celestial alignment was at it's maximum potency for the ritual.

"Steve, your glasses."

He turned and blinked at his assistant, Reece. The poor boy was doomed. He was fine at assisting but that seemed to be the extent of his talents. He was holding everything Steve needed but in a way that infuriated him. His camera was pinched to his body with the right elbow, the strap hanging down near the ground dangerously. His coffee cup was in his right hand held from underneath precariously. He offered the eclipse glasses, held between two outstretched fingers, with his left.

"Fuck it." Steve sneered, turning his attention back to the spectacle above. "Did you do the thing?"

"Yes..." Reece replied. "Why did you make me d-"

"I didn't make you do anything." Steve snapped.

"Ok." Reece said quickly. "But it was weird. At first, the doll wouldn't burn and then it suddenly caught fire. It burned so quickly and brightly. But only... After I..."

"After you said the words."

"Yes."

"Good." As the eclipse reached it's climax above them he held out his hand to Reece, who then handed him the coffee cup. Removing the lid, Steve threw the contents, ashes created by Reese's ritual, off of the roof and into the wind. "Seder pe’ulat ha-yetsirah." He said.

"Seder pe’ulat ha-yetsirah." Reece muttered, automatically.

Steve's eyes stung as he watched the sun reappear from the moon's shadow. Probably destroyed my eyesight, he thought absently. Good thing Moshiach was near. None of it mattered anymore. He looked out across the water and sighed.

"Reece, what is your purpose?" He asked him.

"To serve you, sir." He replied immediately and with absolute conviction.

"Good." Steve said, nodding. He stepped towards Reece swiftly, grabbed him by his belt and his collar, and tossed him from the roof. To his credit, Reece fell silently to his death. As he smashed fatally against the ground below Steve admired him for that. So many die screaming and without dignity.

"You're welcome." He said down to his lifeless body. Doomed, he thought, but at least he had a purpose.  So many more would die clawing for that and never achieving it. Reece had been lucky. Suddenly, his pocket was full of Wagner. He reached into it and retrieved his ringing cellphone.

"What?"

"Did you see the news?" It was Miller, his man in the White House, and he never called with good news.

"What did our naked emperor do?"

"He stared directly up at the eclipse like a dumbass. Three times. The press is having a field day with his senile ass."

"Is that all?" Steve laughed.

"This stuff is adding up. It matters, Steve." Miller insisted.

"Oh, I don't know." Steve said. He looked down over the edge of the building and saw Reece staring back up at him. He was standing in the pool of blood he'd created after he'd been thrown completely motionless save for the movement of the wind in his long black hair. "Maybe he's like me. Maybe he's just saying 'Fuck it.'."

Miller began to speak again but Steve hung up and returned the phone to his pocket. He spoke down to Reece in barely more than a whisper.

"What is your purpose?" He asked him, again.

"TO SERVE YOU!" It roared back up to him in one voice that sounded like one hundred.

"That's right." He told it with a grin. "Now, go get the car."

He gave the sun a final glance. It was finished. The sun was whole again and blinding as always. For now, at least. Crescent shaped artifacts danced across his vision after he tore himself away from it.

"Fuck it." he said, and headed for the stairs.

Our girl - A Taylor Swift parody.

"It's done, Taylor." Joe said from the doorway.

She stopped typing and half turned, her profile backlit by three large monitors and underlit by the red glow of her keyboard, and smiled. Even bathed in the darkness of her sanctum the gesture seemed to brighten the room. Lately, for reasons unknown to Joe, it had begun to send a shiver down his spine. He felt that chill now.

"Good." She said quietly. She seemed about to speak again but then turned back to her computer.

"Why are you doing that?" He asked her again. He didn't know how many times he'd asked anymore.

"You know why." She spat, impatiently.

"It doesn't make any sense!"

"How are you from Anglo stock and you're this fucking dumb? Are you sure there's no nog blood in the-"

"I'm not-"

"Don't you fucking dare interrupt me." The words came out in a dangerous hiss. The argument was an old one, an almost daily occurrence for the last few weeks, and Joe sensed that he might be the next subject of a hot pop track.

"I'm sorry." He said quickly. The wounded look on his face enraged Taylor but there was nothing he could do about it. When she cut him it was always so deep. She'd learned a family rumor about an ancestor of his that might have been of color. No one else in the family much cared but Taylor had been very upset. She'd been trying to get him to take a DNA test to determine his ancestry. He'd so far refused but she was wearing him down.

"Look." She said, rising from her chair, and coming to him. "I don't want to fight. Just let me have this, ok? It's happening!"

"But I don't know what IT even is?!"

"Shhh." She threw her arms around him and he hugged her back fiercely. "Redpills don't work unless you're ready, my love." She whispered up into his ear.

He was more confused than before but said nothing. Her body was warm. Her lips brushed his neck lightly and goosebumps broke out across his skin.

"Everything is perfect. Be happy." She whispered. He looked down at her monitors and shook his head.

"What are they saying?" He asked in a tone that implied that he didn't really want to know the answer.

"They're loving it." She laughed. "One of them is already telling everyone that I'm obviously based and my single is about the Zog."

"I wish you wouldn't..."

"Oh REEEEEEEEEEEEE! I said a bad word! Fuck off then, 'sperg." She pushed away from him dismissively then and returned to her desk.

"Fine. Whatever." Joe turned to leave but she stopped him with a single softly spoken word.

"Baby?" She called innocently.

"Yes baby?" He replied, his words dripping with hope.

"Tendies?" She asked sweetly, batting her eyes.

His heart shattered. He felt that he might sink into the floor, so rubbery were his legs and so broken was his spirit.

"Yes, baby." It was all he could muster and he said it to her back. She was already typing steadily again. He turned and left the room without another word.

"Cuck." Taylor whispered with a smile. For some, the redpill is just too hard to swallow. Not for long, Taylor thought. Soon she would redpill them all. She had to. She was their girl.

Review of Republican Tears - Vintage 1942.

There are moments when I feel perfectly comfortable taking the low road. Times when I can quite happily watch my foes fail as they reach for their goal, mere inches from their fingertips, only to stumble, and then fall. I feel no remorse as I stand over them, laughing, and drink their bitter and delicious tears.

Last night, I felt this way as I watched Mitch McConnell weep openly.

Schadenfreude, they call it.

Taking pleasure in someone else's misfortune.

As those salty morsels of satifaction oozed from his sad, sleepy eyes my mouth instantly filled with saliva. As enticing as beads of morning dew running down the skin of a ripe, green apple bathed in the day's first light and diminished not one iota by the crusty jowls down which they currently streamed. I was a man, fresh from the scorching desert, and Mitch McConnell's precious droplets of failure were my oasis.

The look on his dumb, droopy face when McCain gave his thumbs down, immediately making eye contact with the defeated dunce like a boss, was as delectable and decadent a treat as any state fair fare. It was fried iced cream. It was fried cheesecake. It was a funny funnel cake of fantastic fuckery.

Thank you, Mr. McCain.

But where do I go from here?

Will anything ever be as sweet?

Will I ever again be satisfied?

Blogging amidst this madness.

I'll be honest; I can't keep up.

If the goal of the Trump regime is to confuse and fatigue spectators into silence then it may well be working. At least on me.

I'm learning so much about our political system each day, which is nice, but the lesson I keep learning is that the president can pretty much do whatever the fuck he wants. I bet Obama is kicking himself for being so conservative with his use of power. Trump gives zero fucks about ethics, optics, conflicts, politics... It's like we made the Joker the president. He's a dog chasing cars. He just does things.

But is there light at the end of this dank, dark tunnel? Lots of people say yes. The rumors rumbling through the twittersphere, and elsewhere, whisper "Grand jury" or "Sealed indictment" urgently. I want to believe... But I've been hurt before.

All the while, the tweets! The tweets!

It's a fitting future, really. That we would have a Nixonian scandal live tweeted from a dark corner somewhere in the White House.

"Where's the president?"

"I don't know. He gave me the slip again. Is he in Ivanka's room?"

"Negative. He's tweeting. HE'S TWEETING!"

"All agents, be advised. We have a Code Brown on Tweety Bird! I say again, Code Brown! Check all the bathrooms and closets! This is not a drill!"

It'd be a whole lot funnier if it wasn't a thing that probably has happened and does happen. This fucking guy is an embarrassment. An absolute disgrace.

Is today the day?

Western news correspondents in North Korea have been told today to expect a "big and important event". At times, in the past, this has amounted to nothing. Other times, however, this has heralded a test of either a missile or a nuclear warhead.

So, with Trump's “Armada” steaming full ahead towards North Korea, is this going to be what kicks off war with North Korea?

It's apparent that Trump is very keen on conflict. When we're talking about North Korea, or Syria, we're not talking about Russian connections to the treasonous Trump team. Distraction is one of Trump's absolute favorite tactics. Mainly, because it works. Our media has proven time and again to be as susceptible to distraction as the very dumbest of our population. At this point, Donald may as well be jingling his car keys at them.

So, if Kim tests a nuke today then what is the response? Tomahawks? Airstrikes? Both will be a clear declaration of war. North Korea is not Syria. This isn't pantomime any more. If we attack North Korea at all, if we fire a missile, a round, if we throw a fucking rock, we will be at war with North Korea. Period.

We are in the absolute worst position we could be in. We are sitting here today and wondering - “How will Trump respond to provocation?”.

The answer, unfortunately, is probably “Not well”.

I fear that by the day's end we will be at war. Someone should tell Donald Trump that you can't win a war from a golf course. 

Trump - Conning the media again.

Wow, that Syria distraction sure was effective.

Call Putin and warn him. Putin warns Assad. They clear the airfield, let the Tomahawks make some noise and move some dirt around, and get back to work on their still completely functional runway.

"Hey, Putie! We're going to bomb an airfield to distract people from my terrible presidency, Sad! Don't tell Bashar, ok?!" pic.twitter.com/uCkYhqPjR3

— Heysoos X Thompson (@GrafHeysoos) April 8, 2017

"Everything you tell Putie is strictly between us, Donny. You know that! I love you." pic.twitter.com/7aITvT2sng

— Heysoos X Thompson (@GrafHeysoos) April 8, 2017

The most obvious of political pantomimes.

Meanwhile...

Pay no attention to Trump's expensive desert distraction, North Korea is where it's going down.#ImpeachTrump https://t.co/gOXanZFg1R

— Heysoos X Thompson (@GrafHeysoos) April 9, 2017

And this is the real story. North Korea is looking like a likely target more and more. Trump wants to start a war to save his presidency. He's going to use it to consolidate his power. "We don't have time to investigate this Russia nonsense!" They'll say, "We're at war!".

And North Korea is playing right into it.

"North Korea says a US missile strike on Syria "proves a million times over" that it was right to strengthen its nuclear programme, state media report."


North Korea has WMDs and it's dictator is breaking our sanctions. We have to act, they say, before he starts randomly shooting off missiles at other sovereign nations. How do you do this the day after firing 59 missiles at another sovereign nation with a straight face? Missiles that he fired, by the way, while he was meeting with the Chinese President. He told him that shit at dinner. I'm sure that's just a coincidence, though.

So instead of sitting down at the table with North Korea, which is really all that lil' Kim wants from us, we are going to attack them. Trump has drawn the line for China, his aggression towards North Korea is evident, his forces are moving into place, and he is exactly the kind of nutcase that would start a war to save a presidency.

And the media will fall for it. Just as those "beautiful" missiles distracted idiot talking heads with bright lights and loud noises so too will this impending North Korean conflict. They'll forget all about Russia and go into 24 hour news war mode. We'll all be far too busy watching night vision videos of rockets bursting in air to worry about the Russians' compromising our entire government. We need to be keeping our eyes on the ball and they're going to be distracting us with shiny things. These are the times that CNN and their ilk are bad for America.

The honeymoon is over.

“BUT WHY?!” The Donald screamed as he slammed his small, soft hands down on the Resolute desk. His anger forced his voice two full octaves higher and made him sound like a petulant child.

“Don-” Paul Ryan began. The Donald cut him off.

“MR. PRESIDENT!” The Donald whined.

“Mr. President...” Ryan choked out the words. “We don't have the support.”

“Well, maybe if you'd made it better! Why is it so bad? You're the worst! SAD!” The last word he almost spit out involuntarily, as though he suffered from Tourette's.

“You said you liked it yes-” Ryan was cut off again.

“FAKE NEWS!” The Donald began sputtering. “You are just as bad as CNN and NBC! Fox and friends knows! You're just like the fake dishonest media! SAD!”

“Do-Mr. President, this isn't the end of the fight. We can rewrite it and reintroduce it. We can-” Ryan pleaded.

“No! The stupid loser Democrats want Obamacare? Fine! They can have it! Steve told me that it's going to explode anyway and, when it does, it'll be their fault! They're going to have to come to me for help and I'll make them all come down to Mar-A-Lago and eat the meatloaf! Get out of my office!” The Donald turned his back and stared angrily out of the window.

“Yes, Mr. President.” Ryan said. As he left the Oval Office, closing the door behind him, a tear rolled down his cheek.

“Sad.” He said to himself quietly as he wiped it away.

покидать корабль!

While it is true that Trump's White House is now clearly a lost cause of scandal and incompetence there may still be a silver lining:

Trump may be too busy, or even completely unable, to pursue military actions.

He's in it now and it's showing. He's coming apart at the seams live on Twitter. His mad ramblings, written in such obvious panic and desperation, should be more proof than anyone needs. The way he attempts to fling blame at other people is a clear indicator. He's compromised, there is proof, and he knows it. Why else would he be so worried about a wiretap that he'd tell his tweeps before he asked his advisers? 

He's rattled.

Imagine that you're a general watching this. A general that, not so long ago, watched your commander-in-chief throw you and your buddies under the fucking bus for a botched raid that he himself greenlit. 

Now you're thinking about your career, your family, your troops. Are you going to follow this man into battle? Having served under some questionably suited NCOs and officers I can tell you that disobeying an unlawful order is as much a soldier's duty as following a lawful one. I have to hope that our military commanders are the men that I think they are and that they should be.

I also don't see Trump getting any cooperation from our allies at the moment regarding broad military action - like war with Iran. I've written about my belief that Trump will attack Iran in much the same way that Bush attacked Iraq; Looking for things that aren't there and after a dubiously connected terrorist attack. I can't see that happening with the way things are going. As with most of my most pessimistic writing... I hope I'm wrong.

The support that he needs seems to be dwindling. As Republicans continue to play damage control, while they push through measures to make their friends rich, they are slowly distancing themselves from the Trump administration. Especially now that the Republican healthcare plan has been outed as an absolute disaster. Trump has no real allies that I can see. Is a politician ever a true ally? A person motivated solely by their self interest is never going to burn for you.

It'll be very interesting to see how the Trump administration responds to Rachel Maddow's exposure of Trump's 2005 tax returns. The WH's statement...

is a disaster. How embarrassed are you that this is the kind of statement that Trump's WH releases?

So, what now? They just accused Maddow of breaking the law. Are they going to arrest her? Is this the next iteration of the "Lock Her Up!" movement? Isn't it funny that Trump and his cronies have been saying for this entire time that he can't release his tax returns and then today, when the press gets a portion of them, they are eager to release that portion but only that portion? We need to see those taxes.

What Maddow has now isn't actionable but she's got the right idea. By showing what she has she can show us what we need and why we need it. Hopefully this is only the beginning. 

I believe that the president is corrupt and compromised, I believe that initially only his inner circle were fully aware of the extent of this, and I believe that now, as the evidence pours out of the many holes in the HIRMS Trump, people that previously did not believe are starting to. What they will do with this information I have no idea. 

Trump is sinking, though. 

Watch the rats.

Putin's Puppet.

Donald Trump is a liar.

Tiny Dicky

Let us be very clear: Donald J. Trump is a manchild.

His obsession with crowd size continues. He is still very hurt that he lost the popular vote, so much so that he is launching an investigation into nonexistent voter fraud. His investigation will no doubt uncover some dubious infractions that will lead him to crack down and tighten voting regulations. If there were any doubts that Donny boy was a Republican we can put them to rest now. What's more GOP than voter suppression?

I often find myself wondering about the size of Mr. Trump's penis. I'm not a homosexual, although I'd be fine if I were, but it does fascinate me. It must be minuscule. Building towers, groping women, and being obsessed with size always. It screams micropenis. Hollers it from the top of the highest tower. A tower that was built, by the way, to compensate for the tiny penised man standing atop it crowing about it's size. It's incredibly transparent. I think that reporters should ask him about his schlong. I just want one dauntless reporter to stand up during a press conference and say "Mr. President! How big is your dick not?". I want to see his reaction to the question. I want to watch him shrink like a salted slug as he turns red and becomes infuriated by the intrusion. Sure, that reporter might find himself poisoned. I think it'd be worth it though. Grab him by the penis. With tweezers, I suppose.

Trump says "The world is a mess" and insists that it "can't get angrier". I think he'd be surprised by how angry the world could be. Specifically, how angry the United States can be. Cracking down on the American people does not cause them to behave. We are not a group of people that is easily subjugated. I wouldn't be surprised to see Trump products being thrown into Boston harbor before too long. The new Boston T party. A big golden T for Trump, of course. We know he likes his things golden. Curtains, letters, showers... Gold is definitely his thing.

There is no greater threat to our way of life than our current president. He believes that our country, indeed the world, is broken and wants to change everything. He intends to remove regulations for corporations, roll back any and all environmental protections, suppress more voters, stifle the rights of women, steal the rights of LGBTQ folk, invade a US city, ban Muslims from entering the US, expel 11 million people, and start a fucking war with China.

The expulsion of illegal immigrants concerns me. 40% of illegal immigrants fly into our country and overstay. I'm not really sure what the wall is going to do to stop that. Also, a large number of them are European and Asian but no one seems to care about any of the undocumented immigrants that aren't brown. All the while, claiming that it's not racial. Sure it's not, Adolf.

His supporters are forming some sort of strange cult. They are constantly demanding that I swear fealty to their king, Trump.

"Say it with me, "Trump is my president."." is something I've heard multiple times. No doubt shouted at their monitor while wearing white robes with a burning cross in their backyard.

He's not a king. He's an elected official. One I did not vote for. Therefore, he's not my president anymore than Obama was theirs. For eight years they denigrated and disparaged MY president. Now they want me to kneel for theirs? I think fucking not. He will never be my president. He is a disgrace. In four years when we vote him out overwhelmingly I'll be standing on my front lawn giving Trump signs golden showers and waving my American flag while I shoot my guns in the air.

Trump is my Nixon. I think I'll call him "Tiny Dicky".

I'll never bow to Tiny Dicky.

All Due Respect

So. Yesterday someone punched Richard Spencer in the face.

Good.

People say that all violence is bad. That he has a right to speak his mind. That we should be more tolerant. To those people I say, simply; Bullshit.

There should be no tolerance for fascists. There is no protection under the constitution for a man that preaches ethnic cleansing and, make no mistake, that is what he preaches. He advocates for a white ethno-state. He wants America to be a safe space for people of white European decent. How do you make America white without removing the minorities? You can't. How do you remove American minorities without violence? You can't.

His platform is ethnic cleansing. Just because it comes from a dough faced young white man with an easy smile and a stupid haircut people are normalizing him. Not surprisingly, really. The American public has become woefully un/misinformed. They'll believe just about anything they hear as long as it comes from a friendly source. Even if that friendly source is a white nationalist that wants to make America whiter.

First come the immigration bans. Then the purging of immigrants. Then what? Who's next? Latinos? Blacks? Asians?

Pay attention.

I'm glad he got punched. He needed it. He likely hasn't been punched in his life. I hope that from this he learns that his words incite violence and that said violence may not always be beneficial to him.

He gets no respect from me.

Who said I had any valor?

Whenever I tell people that I'm a veteran on the internet I'm attacked. I'm told that I'm not a real veteran; "Stolen valor!" is the usual cry. I'm told that if I am a veteran then I'm definitely not an infantryman because infantryman aren't black. I'm told that I'm not a hero.

Let's do this backwards, shall we?

Firstly, I've never claimed to be a hero. I'm a veteran, sure, but not a hero. Have I done things that people might deem "heroic"? Sure. I've got some medals. Lots of veterans do. That doesn't make me a hero and I would never claim that it did. It's a cliché for a reason; All the heroes I know are dead. A hero throws himself on a grenade to protect his squad, steps in front of a bullet for a friend, charges towards a vehicle-born improvised explosive device to save the men at his checkpoint. Plenty of those to laud and applaud. I'm not among their number. I did none of those things. I am not a hero.

Second, while it's true that black men are under represented in the infantry and, indeed, across the board within US military combat arms positions, we do exist. Black infantryman aren't fucking unicorns for Christ's sake. One in five soldiers in the US Army are black and 22% of that number are combat arms. So, of around half a million soldiers, one in five is black and, of that one hundred thousand, one in five is combat arms. 20,000 soldiers. How unlikely is it that I'm one of those soldiers? Are these impossible odds? I think not.

Third, "Stolen valor!". This comes up usually because of my reluctance to post pictures of myself on social media. The amusing thing about this is that it's almost always invoked by people that would use my personal information to hurt me in some way. Really, in any way that they can. These pigs, these swine, will no doubt use any personal information that I post on Twitter or any other social media to track me down and harass me. Not just me, of course, but the people that I love and that look to me to keep them safe. So what do I do? Bow to my ego, post pictures of myself, and put my loved ones at risk so that people won't call me names on the internet? I think fucking not. Having "Stolen valor!" screamed at me over twitter is the absolute least of my worries. Having someone attack my family on Facebook, at best, or in the street, at worst, is a much more concrete concern. These people are certifiably insane. I would never subject those that i care about to the abuses that they'd wish to perpetrate. Call me all the fucking names you want, I can take it, but you will never get to my people. That's a level of the game that no one wants to take it to with me. This I can promise you. Some would call me a feral, an animal, and a savage. Trust your own assessment. Maybe I am all of those things and, if that's the case, then you should not attempt to corner me.

I'll continue to say that I'm a veteran, because I am, and they'll continue to attack me. It's ok by me. I can hack it. I used to load my weapons and fight terrorists for my country; fascist swine on the internet doesn't scare me. These days my weapons are my words, and the terrorists domestic, but the fight is the same. I'm ready for it.

Read the name of the fucking blog, man.

I'm ready for a dirty game.

FAKE NEWS!

Trump today denied charges of corruption and Russian collusion by shouting down reporters he didn't like as "FAKE NEWS!" while paid spectators clapped and cheered. His supporters ate up that slop like pigs at the trough; Happily and without question.

The rise of fascism in the United States is real and imminent. Ominous. Trump discredits honest, but biased, press while he refuses to divest in his many businesses. He is clearly compromised by Russia but his followers don't care. Anyone but "Killary" they cry, still. The election is long over but any criticism of their God-King is immediately and fervently met with criticism of Hillary Clinton. The only way that they can justify electing a man like Donald J. Trump is to highlight the flaws of his opponent. "Look what could have happened!", they cry. Trump himself has no actual merits. There was no reason to elect Trump other than that he was not Obama or Clinton. That's it.

His campaign promises are disintegrating as we speak. Lock her up? Nope. Drain the swamp? Absolutely not. The swamp is now being populated with some of the most dangerous and dastardly characters that the right can find. The far right. So far right that they're warming up the trains and dusting off the gas chambers. Build the wall? Maybe. Mexico isn't paying for it, though. You are. Suckers.

America chose a salesman over a politician because the average American thinks that one is better than the other. Now, Trump's supporters are driving off of the lot at 19% interest with a six year loan and a big ol' smile on their big dumb faces. "My payments are super low!", they gloat stupidly. Meanwhile, the used car salesman is at the bar buying drinks for his friends with their commission check; laughing at the idiocy of these uninformed consumers. "Not to worry!", He says as he roars with laughter, "When it breaks down they'll blame the Mexicans!".

If you cannot see that calling his first press conference, screaming at the press, denying vehemently, and tweeting frantically is an admission of guilt then I don't think there is any hope for you.

If you cannot see that Kellyanne Conway being dispatched to spread misinformation to major media outlets as damage control is not Trump basically pleading guilty then the wool is thick over your eyes.

If you cannot see that Russia addressing these allegations so immediately and directly is a complete acknowledgement of their collusion then you are a fool.

This is fascism rising. This is how our democracy dies. Our president is quelling free speech and twisting the truth to fit a lie. Watch the Kellyanne interview for example.

Repeatedly, Anderson Cooper says that the story that CNN reported WAS NOT the same story that Buzzfeed ran. He says it over and over and over again. She continues to say that they are the same story. THEY ARE NOT. She deliberately says "CNN and Buzzfeed" together in the same sentences over and over again. This is an attempt to link the two in your brain and make the two stories inseparable. By doing this they only have to discredit ONE of the stories. 

She also says that they don't discuss intelligence briefings. While she's arguing about what happened IN AN INTELLIGENCE BRIEFING. While she says that it DIDN'T HAPPEN IN AN INTELLIGENCE BRIEFING.

What?

This is an absolute attempt by an authoritarian administration to discredit the press and control the media. 

He's not even president yet.

Can you imagine how bad things are going to get when he actually has the power of the office? 

We're fucked. 

Find a Trump voter and thank them. 

/Drunk blog over.

The Myth Of "White Genocide".

Let's discuss this fabled "White Genocide" that everyone is buzzing about right now.

What is "White genocide"?

Wikipedia states:

White genocide is a white nationalist conspiracy theory that mass immigration, integration, miscegenation, low fertility rates and abortion are being promoted in predominantly white countries to deliberately turn them minority-white and hence cause white people to become extinct through forced assimilation.

Kudos to Wikipedia for calling a spade a spade.

Let's dive on into this cesspool.

So, the theory is pretty concisely explained above. There is a conspiracy, most White supremacists believe, that is being perpetrated by THE JEWS, to make the White man extinct. This is being done with "Anti-White" policies instituted by the government with the intent of destroying  "White European" culture. That these people have no clue what "White European" culture is, is seemingly unimportant. "Never mind that I can't quote Shakespeare," they will say, "He was White and so I can claim credit for his works.". White supremacists often prattle on about the many achievements of White men as evidence of their superiority while they sit in their mother's basement trolling twitter. To be fair though, if your only achievement in this world was that you were born a certain race you might be a bitter racist, too.

Any criticism directed at White people is then branded as "Anti-White". Any White person that denounces racism is a "race traitor". As are White men and women that date/marry outside of their race. "Race traitors" are the lowest of the low to the White supremacist. A scourge to be shunned and shamed. How could they ever side with a *blank* person against a White? They are obviously a tool of the Jew conspirators and thus a much more detestable enemy.

I think that part of the reason that White supremacists hate "race traitors" so much is that a White man arguing against them destroys half, if not all, of their argument. How can they immediately feel superior to this White skinned aggressor? They can't post crime statistics or median IQ charts. They can't yell racial slurs. They can't use any of the approved go to insults at all. Invariably, liberals are now being met with the same hatred that was previously reserved only for people of color. "Liberal" is the new "nigger".

Indeed, even when I argue with them they tend to flounder. Clearly, I'm educated, I'm intelligent, I'm articulate, and reasonable. I don't threaten them with violence. Typos are rare. I have a dad, I take care of my kids, and I served my country honorably in combat. That last one especially sticks in their craw. A black VETERAN?! AND A LIBERAL?! Most of the time they respond by demanding that I prove my service and calling me a fake vet. "Stolen valor!", they cry. My service cucks them. Fuck 'em. I know where I've been.

I digress. "White genocide".

What is "genocide"?

Genocide is defined in the dictionary as:

Are people deliberately massacring Whites in the streets? Clearly not. White people make up 62% of the population in this country. Any attack on White people as a group would obviously fail.  White supremacists know this. Troll one and bring up the idea of a "race war". They will laugh and tell you they welcome such a thing. Why? Because there are more of them and they'd win. Yet, they fear the "genocide" of White people? I think not.

Genocide is a hard hitting word. It shocks people, especially stupid people, into action. I would not be surprised if there are militia groups gearing up at this very moment to actively combat this so called "White genocide". If they're fighting actual "genocide" what is the moral limit of their actions?

One of the first men to coin the term "White genocide" was David Eden Lane. Lane was a member of a group called "The Order". Denver, Colorado radio talk show host Alan Berg caught the attention of the group with his "often-abrasive on-air persona.". His radio show was intended to confront the "anti-Semitism latent in the area's conservative population". This turned out to be his downfall, however, as it ended up putting him on the group's death list. At around 9:30 pm, June 18th, 1984, Berg exited his VW Bug into a hail of 9mm gunfire. The illegally converted fully automatic Ingram MAC-10 riddled him before he took a step. He was shot 12 times and died on his back in the driveway of his own home, his feet barely out of his car.

This is the result of Lane's rhetoric.

Lane was quoted after Berg's death as saying, "The only thing I have to say about Alan Berg is, regardless of who did it, he has not mouthed his hate-whitey propaganda from his 50,000-watt zionist pulpit for quite a few years". Pure hate.

Lane died in prison. Good riddance.

These men are inciting violence against people for imagined violence against them. No one is perpetrating "White genocide". No one is advocating "White genocide". The very term is a smokescreen for White supremacy.

An immigrant that comes to the United States isn't doing so to destroy the White race. A White man that marries a Black woman isn't doing so to lessen the number of White children born into the world. A gay White man isn't gay because he wants his race to become extinct. White women do not get abortions to stop the advancement of White people. Yet this is the narrative that they are attempting to create. A narrative designed to instigate hate, fear, and violence. Pushing back against this narrative is essential for the survival of anyone that isn't a White supremacist.

Don't fall for the lies. The results could be, and have been, deadly.

The weird turn pro.

The Liar Reich

I'm tired of hearing white people complaining about losing. I'm sick of being told that the white man is the new oppressed minority. I definitely do not have the stomach for it when it comes out of the mouths of frauds like Richard Spencer. Please tell us more about the plight of the young white man growing up in the Preston Hollow area of Dallas, Texas. I'm sure it must have been tough living in a neighborhood that currently houses the likes of George W. Bush and Mark Cuban. I think Cuban is Jewish though so maybe that means Preston Hollow has more diversity now then when I last saw it.

I wish that the angry and poor white people supporting phonies like this would realize that they are being conned. He's using their hatred, their fear, their xenophobia, and, honestly, their gullibility to control them. They see him up there spouting off half-baked philosophies and flawed ideologies that they want, need, to believe and they fall in line. Even throwing him the Nazi salute.

Speaking of which, how the fuck can you claim to celebrate European heritage while throwing Nazi salutes and waving Nazi flags? I'm not sure that these guys could find Europe on a map let alone speak in any length about it's history or their connection to it. Trust me when I say that the majority of Europe neither claims nor wants to claim you. They've done that dance. They didn't like it. I'd also be very interested to see where these men trace their European roots to. Do they trace them at all or do they just say to themselves in earnest "I'm white. I must be European."? It should be a hard sell for people that think the ancient Egyptians were also white and that Jesus was an Aryan. Could you not be a relative of Tutankhamen? Maybe you're the last Scion. Hail Caesar and all that.

That these people are lying to themselves with the same gusto that their leaders spew untruths goes completely without saying but I'll say it anyway. Just because I have the time and the hotness in my belly. You know, the one you get when you need to shit urgently or possibly throw up? Then surprise! You're doing both. I'm doing both all over the Alt-Right as often as I can until they go away.

Their ideas are stupid. Their logic is flawed. Their leaders are frauds. Their knowledge of history is shoddy. Their haircuts are dumb, they have weak chins, and, I hear, their wives enjoy big giant throbbing black cocks. A group of flailing cucks, one and all. Pigs. Swine. Cowards.

Fuck everything they stand for and, if you stand with them, fuck you, too.

If Everything Is Racist Then Nothing Is.

You'll see and hear a lot of the same things from people right now. One of the biggest phrases I see a lot is "You think everything is racist.". This is usually said right after you call someone out for being racist. They do this to marginalize you and destroy the credibility of your statement. It's complete bullshit and should not be tolerated. Racism exists. We all know this. It exists in many forms and in many people. Race relations in Amerikkka have always been shaky, at best. We live in a country that committed genocide against it's native people, enslaved it's black and Chinese people, locked it's Japanese people in internment camps, that continues to suppress it's minority community's votes, and is now talking about deporting 11 million Hispanic immigrants and forcing Muslims to register. We need to talk about racism.


Call it what it is.

If you're a white person that is spouting this "You think everything is racist" bullshit then, guess what? You're supporting racism and further damaging race relations at a time when we do so at our peril. Look around and realize that your apathy is allowing for the rise of fascist rhetoric and the loss of basic human rights for your friends and neighbors.

If you're a POC and you aren't calling out racism WHENEVER you hear it then, guess what? You are supporting racism and further damaging race relations. This shit cannot and should not be tolerated in our society. We've come to goddamn far to be taking these huge steps backwards. I refuse to go back to a time when a white man thought it acceptable to call me a nigger in the street. You should, too.

Making America great again means stepping back to the 1960s and undoing the entire civil rights movement? It means leaping back to the 1940s and one of the most shameful things we've ever done as a nation? It means deporting millions of people that DO contribute to our economy, both in tax revenue and in purchasing power? It means undoing LGBT rights? It means ignoring the RIGHT of Natives to defend water they depend on to live? It means allowing fascist hate groups to march around spewing disgusting rhetoric about white supremacy?

I don't think so.

America IS great because it's a melting pot. Because we are supposed to unite as Americans in times of need. This is a time of need. Do not let a small group divide us.

I don't hate white people, and I know that most white people don't hate me, but some of them do. Acknowledging that is not the cause of racism but the cure for it. Be my brother, respect my opinion, understand my point of view, and I will do the same. Don't dismiss me because my opinion makes you uncomfortable.

A message for the fascists.

I have a message for those that would threaten us.

For those that mean us harm.

For those that think us weak.