Supercaliffffffake news, people!

A Calming Story in Three Acts of Serenity (or was it Sarin?):

 

 

1)    The Nexus: Star Trek, Political Conventions, and post-Wu Flu America

 

The Nexus. The bridge between worlds in the Star Trek film “Generations”. You know, the space film with Malcolm McDowell where William Shatner hands over the Trek film franchise to Patrick Stewart? Don’t know it? Well, you’d suck less if you did.

 

Back to this notorious-now-that-I-mentioned-it Nexus. As well as being a cheap and easy way to make sci-fi references, it also could also describe (wait for it) the cosmic divide between political camps in the emerging 2020’s United States. Yes, I know, you were expecting a Star Trek convention. Well, too bad, it’s 2020, the Wu-Flu lockdown season, the Year of the Rats; the Trek convention isn’t happening anyway, Sultan Eric Garcetti demands it. More importantly, also in doubt as of this writing (May 2020) are the overblown schmooze fests known as the DNC/RNC Conventions. Sounds like an international genetic weapons treaty, doesn’t it? Maybe some obscure plumbing techniques? Wrong, it’s what you thought: two giant, balloon-filled revivals, starring two ever-pliant, hot air-filled rivals.

 

Like warring music festival camping parties fighting over who spilled the drugs or incestuous 1848 Appalachian mountain clans clashing over who’s shine still that there is over yonder, (what’s the difference, really), the daily fierce competition over who’s homie committed an unforgivable sin of an outrageous party foul is the nope that springs eternal; the thrashing seas battering our beleaguered ship of American state. Or starship, if we’re counting more gratuitous underhanded nerd-scheming. Starship Enterprise perhaps? Wait, didn’t some President give that name to some third-world small business scheme? Shouldn’t they all?

 

Back to this ancient tribal art of the warring factions known as personality cults, denouncing each other at every turn with sound barrier-breaking speeds of prejudice. On one side, the progressives (or are they mountain goats; they both smash mindlessly into their rivals): ideologically passed out on that vomit-strewn festival soil or mountain pass where clamoring sirens (or at least clamoring people) announce the morning STD fumigation sessions while the natives try to remember who they’re in bed with and what year it is, much less where they are.

 

On the other side, the ironically named “conservatives”, with their savage, fear-inducing war paint that would make the Vikings weep: casual red yacht hats, khakis, men, plastic straws… oh my. Seriously, a “conservative” person would not run around in bright red yacht hats with slogans on them, much less start a protest movement to hack a fascist martial curfew regime. Like Scarlett watching her plantation house burn down, the genteel socialists weep at these demon-licking flames of free expression.

 

These two raging, giant, coked-up rhetorical rhinoceroses on the lam can appear mirror images of each other depending on what time of the day Jim Acosta is Lindsay Graham and Lindsay Graham is Jim Acosta. Fetid camps of corruption and graft the lot of them, they vacillate like primordial microscopia between casually writing each other off with a folksy buffet of slights, or, when they want to go all out, putting their mean faces on and conjuring up all manner of Rapturous Doom that will ensue if you let the other side pick the movie, much less head a government agency.

 

Call it what you want in the US of A: Republican versus Democrat; Left versus Right; Liberal versus Conservative, bacon versus everything else… On and on it goes, aping each other at every turn as the sum of all evil. North versus South, city slickers versus farm folk; Klingons versus Romulans; like most places with human beings (or Vulcans), there is no shortage of colorful American verbiage to describe how utterly bereft of decency and good sense those people over there (Right there! You!) are.

 

2)    The Hallowed Rats’ Nests of Congress

 

Leading this pompous charge across the largess of populous North America are those ever stalwart grifters, the United States Congress. Fact is, most members of the US Congress are more or less guided by some combination of bribery, deception, and threats of past imbroglios being revealed, regardless of party. It’s a business where the most prominent official, the US President, makes less in a year than people who scrub toilets for pop celebrities (just kidding, celebrities select only the freshest heirloom cartel slaves).

 

What these jobs lack in official salary and perks, the wily squatters inhabiting them make up for with other ingeniously shady ways. Witness only the contemporary glossy politicos who artfully humblebrag about their epic, Oscar-worthy struggle of being a lowly but endlessly plucky millionaire (ask them how they got it at your own risk), fighting the good fight against the demonic possession of the planet by people slightly, marginally wealthier than them. This toxic Stasi personality type - the scourge of HOAs and local government councils the world over – portend to magically burn holes in their chosen heathen victims with their laser eyes of solemn devotion to the “American people”. 

 

These swarthy, hardy barnacles savagely cling to the bizarre prestige of being the lowest-paid (discounting bribery, corporate crime, and slush funds) and most-ridiculed of celebrities. After all, it’s well known that proper celebrities aren’t supposed to punch down and run for office, hence the outrage and mourning for the great loss of the carefree tycoon version of Donald Trump that has hung a pall of wistful remembrance over the nation since that fateful voyage of 2016. Only the fawning-tool-of-organized-crime type of subhuman aspiring to reputationally whore for Tesla, McDonald’s, or Al-Shabaab – the kind who wouldn’t get within sniffing distance of a Malibu mansion before a throng of private security with bazookas and shark tanks nabbed them up - are the type of people who make a career of elected office.

 

These sporting fools provide surgical clinics in how to live like bottom-feeding scavengers in Sponge Bob costumes who yelp inanely like starving small dogs at the prospect of attention from other, better-paid, better-looking celebrities. Their ritual morning self-absorption hangover routine is deciding which brand of voodoo PR mind-wash (white, black, green, pink, rainbow, etc.) to gurgle and spit out at the world like Alien venom, with special ferocity for anyone smelling even remotely dastardly enough to attempt to point out that they had changed their story from the day before. Like the Islamic call to prayer suddenly blasting over a badly tuned megaphone at WTF’o’clock in the morning in your neighborhood, these alleged prophets belt out incantations of supremely interstellar importance along the lines of, “DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!?” Such is the charming legacy of a political culture firmly guided by the stoutest of legal and moral sophistry, combined with a precious overabundance of Wall Street-approved pharmaceutical escapism. In this here dreamy club, any issue position is valid once some fool deems it so on any given day. In fact, Health Department regulations declare shame and exile will come swift like the sword of Allah to any rambunctious infidel sly enough to ask anything along the lines of, “Doesn’t that contradict what you said a week ago, Mrs. Senator?”

 

 

3)    Trumpasaurus Rex and the Day the Earth Stood Orange

 

This brings us back to the current reality of the great global 2020 Wuhan social meltdown. They say, (never trust any group named “they”, much less what they “say”) that it is a public health crisis like never seen before by the living, and possibly anyone else before that, (looking at you, dinosaurs, you bunch of fucking whiners). It is declared existentially imperative that for the sake of the master race (oops, we meant “American people”) we must all be intellectually (much less functionally) straightjacketed and locked away in padded emotional cells of pristine obedience or everyone, everywhere, EVER, will die. The Amazing Covid will even kill Winnie the Pooh and Wonder Woman if you poke your filthy, diseased, spewing-mouth head outside, just like it did Kobe.

 

Too soon? Nah, never let a good family crisis go to waste, the Emanuel clan demands it. To those of us a bit more steeled against such mental mumbo jumbo from a bunch of bent cops bought off by the mob, we know that we have already seen a far, far more disastrous hijacking of our capacity to cope in the last few years, and the entrance of the Kung Flu menace is only par for the course. The Great, Unsung, Epically Historic Viral Outbreak of 2016 that still rages across the Northern Hemisphere like a “Fast and Furious” remake of the Aurea Borealis is none other than the tragic, terrible, tyrannical pathology burning up the dance floor like the chick from the Quentin Tarantino-directed smash of 2049, “When Travolta Met Vesuvius”: yes, that infamous, Earth-shattering, pop culture dark arts pathological outbreak flung far and wide and suffered deep known colloquially in parts as the “Abominable Orange Fever”, (David Attenborough voice, please)the famed Trump Derangement Syndrome.

 

This legendary orange Godzilla-spew inferno of anti-Trumpian hysteria scorched the Earth like a wicked-bad but awesome spell from a Harry Potter villain burning it all down while listening to the latest Ministry of Melt Your Fucking Face album. This anti-intellectual supernova of black hole sunburn wreaked epileptic havoc across the hippie-stablishment planet-wide, conjuring up black site torture nightmares of being force-binged on bad Iranian LSD (or whatever’s lying around your average black site) to Enya at 140 dB while being Clockwork Orange forced-eyed to watch Silvio Berlusconi tricked out on PCP and steroids using Angela Merkel as a sock puppet while Al Sharpton grinds someone’s limbs into sausage in the background for unknown reasons and purpose while wearing nothing but ladies’ panties and a chainsaw. (Come to think of it, that sounds pretty horrific, maybe we’ll split the check and say visions of something somewhat more generically but not too remotely unpleasant? Perhaps the end of the world? Spilt milk? Too much mayo? An off-Broadway production of CATS? Any production of CATS?

 

You get the point. The world pretends to lose its mind over the alleged legend of the Wuhan Kung Flu terror when those mental marbles had already spilled out a few years prior. In fact, perhaps the PC Police should call themselves “spilt” instead of “woke”. At any rate, now we’re incarcerated in the penal colony of slipping on them and stumbling around smashing into everything like Sylvester the Cat right before the house blows up until the election in November. Will the universe swallow itself whole if President Donald Trump gets re-elected? Don’t you already know? DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!?

 

 

 

The End

 

Oh no he didn't!

Trump Wars

 

Episode III:

Rainbow, Inc.

 

 

Well, here we are, another fine Spring day in our 2020 penitentiary of Corona. No, it’s not just any ol’ time of day after a bitchin’ beach party at Jimmy Buffett’s house. Nay, we be waking up in a medieval iron maiden of fake viral panics and Communist groupthink.

 

The Donald Trump Presidency (or more accurately, the shrieking kamikaze revolt against such a thing) has laid bare - like Marilyn Monroe at the Oval Office casual Friday gang bang - the mafia anarchy inside that squishy slice of American life that chronically contributes Democrat votes. This rabid posse of blacklisting fury has declared the Republican party - plus any foul breed that dares traffic in such nonsense - utopian public enemy numero uno. (That’s español, by the way, for all of you Ivy Leaguers and “community activists”.)

 

President Trump is their anti-Christ; the great blasphemous Satan befouling the poor innocent tribes of Earth. In a scene from the Ayatollah’s wettest dreams, the acolytes of this great Woke Inquisition - per UN and local county regulations - have been required to shed the pretense of pretending to care about you. In order to maintain their precious budgets and Dunkin cards, they have outwardly morphed into a championship-caliber snuff cult. (The time-traveling Imperial Japanese Occult Science Division called, people: it’s official, y’all crazy.)

 

Principal on the work wheel is to carelessly - or psychotically, depending on the song - grind down un-pagan norms like a berserk college goth barista who is furious at Robert Smith for some reason (and twice as mad at your latte). Got a problem? Your life indoctrination guides have failed you, and you need more sex and drugs on the government dime, stat!

 

After all, if you’re old enough to crawl, you’re in the right position. So, mums and dads: get moving early and often with that home experiential educational series on “bodily awareness” and the lifelong joys of polysexual promiscuity. Fun for the whole family, right? Plus, kiddies, if you’re feeling a little weird about your BDSM training wheels, Big Pharma has all the magic potions to exorcise you of those naughty resistance demons preventing your wellness pediatric orgasm.

 

Besides, playing toddler balls (yup) with your little ones is an act of unbelievably precious mercy for these bouncing bundles of tyrant symbolism. These greedy little goons – let’s be politically correct and call them social and financial burdens - represent the most unholy of unholies of unforgivable sins: the failure to answer the grand opportunity knock on-the-door of the chance for celebrating nature’s blessed infanticidal bounty of a good, hearty abortion.

 

I mean really, what’s a fruitful young life of character-building child rape for our newborn Fetal Burger escapees compared to the prospect of the vilest agony heard round the world. An agony bespeaking Armageddon, louder than the cowbells of St Grete bungling around her neck on her manic vision quest to brood with tech tycoons while belching out ominous incantations of high crimes and consequences to anyone in earshot of the utter, crushing atrocity of not getting a “fucking motherfucking proper fucking vegan fucking meal in fucking fucking fucking first fucking stupid class! Get me a better airplane!”

 

Oh my. Yes, fans, we bespeak of an eternal, cursed agonizing wail not heard since that fateful time the ancient pre-Egyptian Trans-kingdoms of the Bards of Babylon’s favorite club DJ, Rokk Flintstoned - on his tour rider it says, “DON’T. EVEN. Say Yabba you know what to him if you value your safety” - hastily grabbed the wrong bag of herbs from his pharmacy side hustle to bring to the party and everyone just went flaccid and felt like… talking. For like, five whole minutes. RIGHT?!?

 

Yes, THAT brand of atomic destruction misery. In today’s groovy lingo, it is known as the supernaturally-anointed sonic wave of the crushing, visceral screams of a treacherously bored and overcaffeinated abortion “doctor” having to (UGH!) sit around and sext alone in the office as punishment for an unforgivingly victim-less and cold, cold, cold, 83-degree Thursday afternoon in Miami. Imagine, the horror of the searing heat of the girls’ (including Trevor) ninja-like shaming skills at someone showing up for evening drinks at the Tiki bar and having zero juicy, meaty, Grade A prime cuts of cultic, barbaric infant dismemberment gossip (Was that Dwayne Wayne’s kid? Already? You DID frappe it in the blender for a mud mask, right? So silky…)

 

This suicidal death cultism is professionally pimped on the world’s stage by none other than that exquisite paradigm of international satanic slavery, slaughter, and corruption: The United Nations. This international silly salad, along with its endless sad caravan of assorted circus freak agencies, has strangely become the craven altar of modern techno-totalitarianism and good old fashioned sly Soviet graft. Its bloated organizational carcass, packed with dictator’s daughters and career bootlickers of said daughters, remains vigilant in the sacred time-honored mission - the exact text of which disappeared around the time a certain intrepid Jones fellow showed up - to shine the benevolent light on us deplorable plague roaches. Their mission: to constantly, tersely remind us all that the naughty Smurfs of Trump-land are just the worst. Worse than the scum of the earth; the baddest of the baddest, badliest bad dogs; absolute wastes of sentience and climate impact. These demon agents deserve nothing more than to barely survive on the aptly named “Peoples” burgers made of sawdust, shit, bugs, discarded vacuum cleaners, whatever else is lying around, and of course, most importantly, aborted or otherwise cleverly murdered children. Well, pretty much anyone who dies, really. Waste not, want not, right? Climate change and stuff, you know?

 

Can’t fucking wait. These soul-sucking, robot-fucking ghouls with an overriding eugenics fetish operate under the assumption that they must be the righteous ballast and normative transformative against the allegedly enduring rusty shackles of the “Wild White West” dominion. As mentioned, this barnyard conspiracy theorizing is principally focused on the Great Satan known as the US of fucking A. (Well, at least when a Republican is in charge.) Their bane? The supposed wanton landmine and bear trap paradigm of toxic anti-Commie constitutionalism. Fo realz. I mean, like, yo homie: what patronizing racist dolt thinks the “law” is anything other than what the Dear Leader motherfucking says it is, you dig?

Fortune Cookies: Delete!

The Wu-Flu Terror of 2020:

Communist Coup d’État?

Human life on Earth in 2020 (and potentially, frighteningly, beyond) has now become defined by an ongoing planet-wide germophobic panic attack and house arrest regime widely condemned as a brutal authoritarian power grab. Is this tidal wave of martial lockdowns gripping the nations of the world in response to the alleged cataclysmic public health threat of the Wuhan SARS viral outbreak (corporate branded as “COVID-19”) the intended result of a strategic biological attack by the Chinese Communist Party (CCP)?

Given the seemingly endless torrent of contradictory guidelines and mandates emanating from affected countries and the systemic denials of culpability (and potential burying of both evidence and witnesses) by China and its international enablers, it may be too early to definitively ascertain a detailed equation of blame. Mounting indications however point to, if not outright malevolence, at least some form of historically incompetent gross negligence. If malevolence were the case, however, it would not entirely out of left field. The CCP already has a hostile international cyberwarfare and intellectual property theft regime as well as a predatory neocolonial development program. In essence they are the world’s preeminent loan shark and mob bank, actively collaborating with established criminal and Jihadist syndicates to corner markets while endlessly eroding democratic foundations. They buy off and intimidate foreign political drivers and establish beach heads amongst civil society institutions and social movements. It is fair to ask how much of the largesse of Western political establishments (and the democratic principles they represent) have been infiltrated and compromised by the CCP and their allies. It is certainly possible here in 2020 that the Covid-19-induced, ghastly negation campaign against civil liberties occurring across the world – the suspended animation of constitutional democracy and liberty - is merely the latest theatre of attack in a steady recent effort by the CCP and their allies to destroy resistance to expansion of their dominion.

Many theories abound as to the nature of both China and the viral outbreak, with several avenues of thought standing out. A leading theory is that the dispersal of the virus was a deliberate military act of ‘shock and awe’ warfare (with the Wuhan airport serving as the launching pad for this veritable nuclear strike) with the goal of stunning the world like a scorpion and dramatically weakening resistance to authoritarianism and Chinese hegemony: a grand contemporary version of Pearl Harbor or 9/11. Other theories go a different route, positing that we give the CCP entirely too much clever credit, and the unfolding international socio-economic debacle that imperious elites and their sycophants now tout as the “New Normal” is instead the sad and sorry result of a Chinese industrial accident exponentially magnified by a catastrophically botched coverup and subsequent global spread: a supersized 21^st century Chernobyl. Lastly, occupying the middle theoretical ground is that the “Wuhan Flu” social paralysis of 2020 is a some combination of the two: 1) An unintentional local disaster in Wuhan, China, with an experimental research pathogen potentially developed for military applications somehow spilling out of a questionably reputable laboratory and infecting the local populace; 2) The CCP then willfully, cynically and gruesomely weaponizing the event and directing it across the world as a blitzkrieg tactic.

The core issue at stake is the level of strategic capability and murderous intent of the CCP in pursuit of its proven hostile and grandiose geopolitical ambitions. Arguments of organized, planned belligerence in the case of the Covid-19 phenomenon may in fact be overzealous and belie a potentially staggering level of functional incompetence and instability in the 21^st century’s marquee Communist regime. Could China be merely a retro-Soviet house of cards: North Korea with a bigger budget? While brutally censored at home, discussion of these topics remains vibrant and routine in neighboring regions, especially Hong Kong and Taiwan: two properties the CCP famously, jealously covets and actively seeks to delegitimize and annex. Ironically, and tragically, in the US and other allegedly free-thinking nations, such discussions are increasingly labeled taboo (specifically: racist) by people who may be deserving of the epithet “Vichy Americans”: sellouts and traitors – bent cops on the take - who are more than happy to reap the spoils of serving, in this case, the Chinese imperial interest. Such widespread collaboration is hardly surprising, however, as for nearly two decades US-based and other foreign industries have increasingly, depressingly, kowtowed to the CCP’s censorship demands and taboos on criticism in exchange for doing business, glibly shrugging off the CCP’s murderous authoritarian rule and sadistic disdain for human rights and liberties. It is hardly a stretch to suggest this commercial indoctrination of foreign industrial titans and their mercurial tycoons into totalitarian principles was a welcome avenue for seeding CCP ideology abroad, allowing the Chinese imperial dragon to spread its worldly wings and take stock of “enemies”.

Ultimately the CCP seeks to be the paragon not just of modern technocratic conformist authoritarianism cleverly packaged as glossy, sexy salvation, but also the paragon of the entirety of aspiration of human life as the Soviet Union tried in decades past; the consequence of politics and the deity of Science (and the cruel voodoo of personality cult management science especially) becoming a sweeping, messianic religion with Marx as its Moses and Stalin, Castro, and Mao as apostles. It is an active, clinically insane campaign for unlimited political power as far and deep as the regime’s authority can reach, manifesting through the popular children’s books of cleverly disguised soft-serve agitprop, casual disinformation, and ultimately, violent retribution against any thought or logic contradictory to its unpredictable cultural diktats. Gone is the dull, grey, agrarian workman’s aesthetic of the Soviet era, though; it has been duly replaced for the digital age with the modern metropolitan glitz of gleaming megacity skyscrapers and oodles of snobbish haute culture. The 20^th century saw the easy rise of these newfangled industrial forms of bureaucratized death cultism as the industrial revolution increased urban densities and anti-Christian utopianism flourished in popular thought. Yet while many of the colloquial catch phrases they were known for became firmly embedded in international popular thought as paramount political insults, (think Fascist, Nazi, Gestapo, etc.), ironically and quizzically Communist and Socialist are not among them, despite the grisly overwhelming legacy of sadistic, clinical brutality at the hands of its prophets, a virulently bigoted legacy the CCP represents with pride. Like contemporary jihadist Islam, no matter the death toll and mutilation wrought by its flagbearers, the Communists always seems to maintain a deep-rooted ideological base in a mirroring consumer culture of disposability and political “correctness”. Given such ripe conditions, it would not be entirely shocking if China were so imperiously bold as to go for broke and launch a coordinated biological strike against the world’s nations, hence dialing up their willing servants and sycophants - their Trojan horse legions in foreign lands - to spearhead a dramatic global coup d’état. Operation Scorpion indeed.

Antifuggeddaboudit

US Democrats, Antifa, and Black Lives Matter:

America under the violent sway of Cartels, Communists, and Caliphates

Sounds like a plot from a TV thriller, doesn’t it? Where’s Jack Bauer when you need him? The US Democratic Party – as we round into summer 2020 – has now begun to resemble a randy mix of proper Irish thuggery and mind-bending corruption. 1980’s European soccer hooligans called, folks, we want our mindless violence back. Tiananmen Square would call, but the new Zoom-led American Reich has deemed it verboten.

First, there is the political wing of the Party: the traditional TV Democrats. These perennial corporate criminals are currently, publicly, represented by the fossilized remains of Nancy Pelosi, Chuck Schumer, and Joe Biden. This idiot guru cult is spearheaded by the pharaonic Tribal Chief, Barack Obama. They own the legacy press and are not afraid to engage in human sacrifice. They are enabled by internet plutocrats, verging on North Korea-level paranoia and lust for control. They are a Party that lies to people’s faces daily with open glee, and the braindead slaves that follow them eat it up. They think they’re in on the joke.

These genteel, powdered-wig, faux-folksy Americana types are rapidly getting eclipsed, however, by a radicalized wing one could call either the “Tide Pod Bolsheviks” or the “Grand Theft Auto Generation”. They are the insurgent military wing of the aspiring new global Soviet. This factory-farmed Progressive Left movement embraces a violent extremist religion sweeping across democratic nations: the divine glory of Thug Life. They are feted by oligarchs; oligarchs they would happily behead. They represent the first full post-Soviet, post-9/11 generation. The attacks of 9/11 – even 7/7 – are ancient history. Usama bin Laden? A rebel to be painted on fashionable t-shirts like Che Guevara. When it comes to “Chez Whitey”, the goal is to make genocide great again. These lost souls deliriously see themselves as an avenging force of righteous warriors, purporting to correct all the alleged wrongs of history in one karmic snap of the fingers. Only they have the key to the Promised Land.

In the end, it really just comes down to being selfish, lazy, and addicted to utopian promises. And drugs, lots of drugs. Thanks, Big Pharma, what shall we crush and snort today? These are people who consider it an inalienable human right to get paid a government salary to shoot heroin and defecate on the sidewalk. Or anywhere else, for that matter. Those holes cut into the chairs at the restaurant? Yep, you guessed it, because only “racists” question Progressive regulations. Don’t like the stink? You’re a fascist. Call someone by anything other than their cherished alternative pronouns? You’re a Nazi who deserves to swing from a tree.

Indeed, this venerable idiocracy ached to go full Benghazi on the White House during the Minneapolis riot scenario. The throng pushed up to the limits of the police and Secret Service cordon, pelting the officers with injurious debris. Once one group spills over the formation to break the rules and rush the stage, the snowball of an anarchic crusade to burn down La Casa Blanca would be on. Loot, rape, pillage; nothing less than the severed head of Donald Trump on a pike would do. In this case, the President would have to make the decision of whether to turn the White House guns on them, which are likely prodigious. The US is, for better or worse, the beacon of democratic liberty in the world; the lighthouse. Give up the White House, you give it all up and accept the political penitentiary of dictatorship. Crime becomes irrelevant, and only your convincing political loyalty and blind obedience to the regime matters. Purges aside, of course.

This movement has been lately canonized in contemporary pop culture folklore by the apparent anti-democratic archvillains known as Antifa and Black Lives Matter. They are the American domestic equivalents of the IRA and ISIS. Courtesy of rampant immigration fraud, they receive members and training from foreign terrorist organizations like Hamas, Al-Quaida, and Al-Shabaab. They are more than willing to accept support and cash from anti-democratic governments like China, Russia, Iran, and others. Most importantly, they may in fact be fronts - witting or otherwise - for the great Northern push of the Latin American narco-cartels.

Their principal public propaganda vehicles are digital corporate platforms like Facebook and Twitter. Ensconced in this delirium of anonymity, they happily engage in hostile and violent ideological warfare. Any dissent must be met with force and erased. Of course, the money-gluttonous titans of tech are more than happy to enable international terrorism for a buck. They sympathize publicly with the cosplay revolutionaries’ utopian fervor. They probably won’t be laughing, however, when the Baader-Meinhof mentality they aggrandize comes back to bite them. The guillotine always looks great until it’s your turn.

Like conspiring sects of an American Taliban, the Woke Jihadis seek to either destroy, or mutilate into their own image (a la music/TV/literature), any pre-existing cultural icon or institution that represents an affront to their creationist delirium. The hilariously and ironically named “Antifa” represents the affluenza-stricken, suburban drug addict wing of this unfortunate tandem. As previously mentioned, they may be directly or indirectly connected to and funded by the Latin American narco-cartels. Or at least casually used by them. They are essentially a middle-class army of pharmaceutical drug addicts and entitled delinquents from the suburbs. In the imaginary words of Yoda: “Braindead pop culture slaves, they are.” Their reading comprehension and historical knowledge is limited to tweets and sexting.

“Black Lives Matter” - on the other hand of doom – seems more of a commodity front for the gangsta-rap jihadist sect. Thug Life! This radicalized ghetto mentality has been aggrandized by groomed foreign extremists from Africa and the Middle East falsely claiming asylum who dovetail easily with legacy US street gangs. They network in prison and have no value for life other than their own. American cities are still plagued by the drug dealing, drive-by shooting culture. The perpetrators could care less if the United States became as war-torn a failed state as Libya or Somalia. The principal question is whether BLM is merely the armed wing of the Nation of Islam. Directed by Louis Farrakhan and unofficially represented publicly by Al Sharpton, Barack Obama is their Pope. “God Damn America” is their mantra.

Collectively Antifa and BLM are indoctrinated into the belief that the ultimate sin is being “white”, much less “capitalist”. Their humiliation takes the form of slavishly engaging in psychopathic mayhem against “racist” targets. They have a serial killer fetish; the 21^st Century Manson clan archetype. Police and Republicans are their sworn enemy. However, also baked in are pure street criminals happy to take advantage of the opportunity to rape and pillage for no particular ideological angle. These are the true violent anarchists; the gangbangers, terrorists, and “woke” Hannibal Lecter types. They are wayward souls reeking of anti-social bloodlust: truck bomber terrorists. They are more than happy to suck affluenza-stricken youth into a sacrificial life of crime. Perhaps today’s sorority girl is tomorrow’s suicide bomber. Atone for your treachery, comrade.

Ultimately, these groups typify the suicide pact mentality that the wealthy TV Democrats are more than happy to manipulate and abuse. Death, death, and more death is the chart-topping hit. Abortion, “assisted” suicide, drug addiction and overdosing, casually murderous street crime; they wear these poisonous ideals like badges of honor. Or pride, one could say with a pun, as androgynous polysexual promiscuity represents their God of Enlightenment. “Men” and “Women” are blasphemous anachronisms. Pedophilia and child rape are misunderstood. The leaders at the top jostle between brazenly praising themselves for ever-higher accomplishments of corruption and graft in government, or claiming they have “evolved” from whatever they got caught saying five minutes ago. Challenge them on anything, and you are the sum of all evil. The obstacle to perfection. You, and everyone who thinks like you, are now the nigger, the dirty Jew, the untouchable caste. They would gleefully just as soon send us all to the gas chamber. However, given the gubernatorial performance pattern of Democrats these days, the trains probably won’t be running at all, much less on time. Start walking, comrade.