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NoJo

NoJo

Happily Marred
Joined
May 19, 2002
Posts
15,398
Sub Version​

This is my Rant Thread, where I show my true colours (red and yellow and black). You can post here if you like, but, as I said, its my Rant Place, where I shout and piss and don’t listen to anyone else’s opinion. It’s possible I may offend some people, especially gays, black people, native Americans, lesbians, Christians, porn writers, porn readers, Americans, Welsh people. I will not spare the English, the Jews and the semi-centenarians either, three clubs which I belong to, but I don’t recall ever applying for membership to any of them.

My prevailing humours are Choleric and Sanguine:

I’m a very angry person by nature. One of the biggest causes of my anger is the Holocaust, where my anger is mainly aimed at any Jews who show signs of not standing up against anti-Semites. (I have no anger towards the Nazis, for anger implies a certain level of respect).

I’m also a jolly person. I can make people laugh, usually women, but only because I try harder with women. I don’t mind making a fool of myself, either by dancing around like a spastic, or making ugly faces, or farting. But even though I have the ability to make people laugh, I could never be a stand-up comedian, because I don’t really care what strangers think of me. The people who really matter to me know me already, and I don’t need to explain myself to anyone else or make them love me.

I’m also what some people would call a Socialist, or Liberal. But basically I just hate capitalism. I don’t like it when people think economics and flow of capital is how everything works. I end up not liking the people who think the world works like that. It doesn’t. Those people ignore the whole of the natural world, which is dangerously arrogant. When I meet a capitalist, I ask him if he shits. If only more people remembered about shit. It leads to True Socialism (via drainage, epidemiology and sanitation).

Thank you Laurel and Manu. I need this Place.
 
American Goy Rebels of the 60’s!​

Every Garden has a snake. The Jew-ish, Italian American long-hair Frank Zappa announced the He was Only In It For The Money, right from the start of the Hippy movement. And by that, he implied, that anyone with ideals was a hypocrite. A cunt. A shmok. Self-deceiving. No, you fool. Frank wasn’t the snake, the satirist is not the snake. The satirist is, if anything, the antidote. The snake is the self-deceiving rebel, ostensibly out to topple a corrupt regime. The snake in the grass is the young wild-eyed hungry good-looking goy, and the poison in his fangs is good old American Avarice. Or Megalomania. Manson is a good example of an American Goy Rebel. I guess he taught Polanski a lesson. Actually that’s a whole other story, what Jews ever learn from every atrocity. I hope Polanski saw it as I do, as the killing of a pregnant rich American beauty, who took a lot of drugs and fucked a Polish-Jewish film maker who was into depicting violence.

So here are these two goys, snakes on grass and coke and everything else, Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper talking about freedom and riding around on Harleys. Meeting a lot of other goys and getting wasted, which is what goys do best. I agree it’s a seminal film, if by seminal, you mean it’s a load of wank. I watch them all, years later, as talking heads, in an ass licking documentary, grey-haired elegant dead-eyed men, shot with an elegant black backdrop to indicate their stark taste, their artfulness, their Goyish rebelliousness. And what are they, booze, cocaine and bluster, glorifying nothing. The film ends like all Goy Films. Shoot the cunts. The film asks: Aren’t you sorry? You made them Die. All the Goy Films do is endlessly recycle the glorious myth of the death of our glorious self-indulging Lord. At the end stab the hero, shoot the hero, let him die Vietnam style, drive-by American style. Francis fucking Mafiosi Mary-wanking Crapola style. I’m not sorry. I wish they’d all died in Vietnam. Every fucking one of them. Except maybe Spielberg, only because of Shrek. Shrek is a good film.

Woody Allen made Christopher Walken play a goy from a Jew’s point of view, as Annie Hall’s brother. Thank you Woody Allen, for explaining it.
 
NeatNeatNeat!​

I fuck the Sex Pistols.

The punks were neither subversive nor anti-commercial. The 2 to 3-minute song is eminently marketable, a boon to Saatchis. True subversion is a 20-minute guitar noodle in one key. Or an Indian Raga. Wasting time is the ultimate subversion, when time is money.
 
Yid Vicious!​

I gave myself that name many years ago when I played in punk rock band, but it didn’t stick. After all, I played keyboards.

Jews, archetypal outsiders and cultural pariahs, make good satirists as a rule (look at the roll-call of writers of so-called “American” TV comedy, including cartoon series like The Simpsons). Sasha Baron-Cohen as Borat, for all the hyperbole from the American media establishment, is for me, another Groucho. Which is the highest complement I could ever possibly pay to any funny person.

If you’re British, you’ll know that Sasha B-C has another lineage, stretching back , if not to Hogarth, then certainly to Peter Cook. If you go to Cambridge, you soon learn to see the whole of humanity as a vast writhing killing field of ridiculous fools. Even your peers at Cambridge. Peter Cook was as merciless and brilliantly observant when it came to lampooning the upper class or the lower-middle class man.

Chris Morris, probably the most vicious and brilliant British satirist alive, and an obvious influence on Borat, still holds the British record for most outrageous TV program (measured by the number of complaints it received after it aired), in the Brass Eye episode on Paedophiles.

But Borat in the Borat Movie steps lightly on the toes of any Black peoples he encounters. The blacks come out relatively unscathed. He avoids ribbing the obvious targets, the rappers , the gang members, the Burger addicts. Chris Morris would have been far less merciful. He would have seen American Blacks for what they are, a group of people who provide a rich vein for the satirist. Besides, any group that is so sensitive to criticism from the “outside” to be taken down a peg. But, here Borat carries on a strong Jewish tradition of not pissing off Black People. Why not? Jews like Blacks. And Jews want Black people to like them back, to feel a sense of camaraderie for a fellow bunch of ex slaves. Jews feel that they are more black than most white people. Which is bullshit of course.

But it really galled me when I met a black Antisemite. I told him he was fucking stupid, that his African great grand parents had been brainwashed by white missionaries or slave-owners into believing the “Jews Killed Jesus” crap. And all that on top of the humiliation of being slaves! In my anger I tried to shame him, to show how his Anti-Semitism was itself a sign that he was still crippled by the mental shackles his ancestors’ masters had imposed on him. But I actually felt sorry for the cunt. Which is my point about how Jews like Blacks.
 
Things which Are Popular but are still Fucking Shit​

If anyone tries to persuade me to read, see, eat, or listen to something because of its popularity, I remind myself of these Things which Are Popular but are still Fucking Shit:

McDonalds Burgers

Madonna

Cigarettes

Sex In The City
 
It’s Spelled “Humor”, cunt!​

The connection between “English” and England is largely historical, and completely irrelevant. English people, learn to fucking spell.
 
Morning Horn!​

Okay, I’ll be fifty in a couple of weeks. Which explains a lot of my weirdness of late. My beautiful wife is fifty already. This week she’s dyed her hair for the first time– she had only a few grey hairs, unlike me – I’ve been mostly grey for a few years.

So anyway, my weirdness: Well, f’rexample: It’s 5 AM and I’m writing this instead of lying snuggled up with my beautiful brown-haired wife. What else? I run. I mean I run and run, for hours, for miles. At least ten miles, three or four times a week.

Unlike Lauren Hill, who sang because she was happy, I run because I’m angry. This choleric mid-life humour (or humor) is dangerous. Also because I’ve put on weight. But the running hasn’t affected it one way or another.

And another thing. I keep “doing the math”: 50 – 32 = 18. (There’s this 32-year-old I’ve been chatting with).

But mostly, I dream. I mean I remember my dreams, and write them down (Dreams are like herbs and spices. You should use herbs and spices in cooking, but you can’t make a whole meal out of herbs and spices. Rarely can dreams be stories (unless you’re a lucid dreamer, like my 32-year-old friend).

I used to think of my remembered dreams as little gifts to my conscious from my creative mind, each one as original and new a snowflake. My bedside table still contains the notebook with a record of my dreams, with mostly mnemonic descriptions: “Sand-upon”, “Little Ingy”, “Lucy in G. Park with a Barrow”, “TV Chat with floating head”, etc.

The 32-year-old has featured in some of these dreams. Horribly realistic they were, dealing with the awful logistics of arranging clandestine Transatlantic flights, and featuring much miscommunication. Oh yes, once or twice I managed in my dream-world to steer things round to a more intimate setting. Once I even felt the bed sheets after waking, thinking I’d had a wet dream.
But no. My sex life is largely confined to my waking life, but I still have one, which is a blessing I suppose I should count. Sometimes I take half a Viagra because my dick isn’t always as hard as I want it to be.

But this morning, I dreamed that I was in a computer store trying to arrange the sending of a PC motherboard to my 32-year-old friend across the Atlantic. The Sikh guy serving me kept giving me documents to sign. I awoke with a really rock-hard boner. So go figure.
 
Chiding my infamous delay​

At thirty, man suspects himself a fool;
Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan;
At fifty, chides his infamous delay,
Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve;
In all the magnanimity of thought
Resolves; and re-resolves; then dies the same.
And why? Because he thinks himself immortal.
All men think all men mortal, but themselves
-- Edward Young (1683 -1765) - Night Thoughts


Procrastination is the thief of time;
Year after year it steals, till all are fled,
And to the mercies of a moment leaves
The vast concerns of an eternal scene.
-- Edward Young - ibid

Carpe Diem
Horace (65 BC - 8 BC)

It's at times like this I regret having my second cock removed
Sub Joe (195:cool:
 
Sub Joe said:
It’s Spelled “Humor”, cunt!​

The connection between “English” and England is largely historical, and completely irrelevant. English people, learn to fucking spell.
Click to expand...

Our education system is trying to ensure that our children can't spell English OR American.

Og
 
Sub Joe,

You are quite brave to post all that personal stuff with fair warning that you might offend. You did not offend me, though. I got a few really good laughs like the reference to Francis Ford Coppola. You have a fine mind.

I am 56 Dutch/British Isles descendant from America, Northern Cali Pornia, I mean California, and we have lived through alot of the same shit. My father was a very sexy man, a reincarnationist, jazz playing, pot smoking beatnik, and I am his daughter in all respects.

I married an angry Sicilian and he ran 10 miles a day for years, until his shin splints did him in, basically. We split up as a couple 14 years ago but remained friends due to having four children together. I left him because of his anger and hatred. Running could not take that away.

He is 53 now and was running more like 3 miles every other day and using Yoga for stretching and strengthening. I recommend this highly.

I recently discovered why he ran so much. He was running away from the task of learning to love himself. For a Catholic like him, loving himself is a daunting task which he would rather avoid at all costs.

This attitude affected his health and now he is on chemotherapy and is not strong enough to run. He cannot drive and cannot work. He is being forced to sit still and think about these things, instead of running away. Being born a sinner, thanks to Catholic indoctrination, he cannot find a reason to love himself. It is a sad thing to see.

So the daughter of a bohemian marries the son of Catholic guilt-trippers and I am the one elected to tell him he is missing his spiritual connection in life? Yes, I am. We all have it, even if we deny its existence.

I do not presume to say you run because you are missing a spiritual connection, but the similarities between you and my ex-husband, the anger and the running, made me wonder. I hope I have not offended you by sharing my personal ordeal.

I wonder how many men are angry because they lack this connection. And I am not talking church here, more like the "We are all one" connection I made when a youth on LSD. We all have intrinsic value that cannot be taken away.

Allard
 
Budd Schulberg, amazing individual, and the writer of "What Makes Sammy Run". I have not read this, but it says it is about the rise of a powerful man in the film industry.

Is that why men run? To vent their ambitions? What makes a person run is more to the point, I am sure, and has as many answers as there are runners. Point taken.
 
Interesting thoughts. Thank you. And you'll be just fine as long as you offend equally across the board.
 
Sub Joe said:
Sub Version​

This is my Rant Thread, where I show my true colours (red and yellow and black). You can post here if you like, but, as I said, its my Rant Place, where I shout and piss and don’t listen to anyone else’s opinion. It’s possible I may offend some people, especially gays, black people, native Americans, lesbians, Christians, porn writers, porn readers, Americans, Welsh people. I will not spare the English, the Jews and the semi-centenarians either, three clubs which I belong to, but I don’t recall ever applying for membership to any of them.

My prevailing humours are Choleric and Sanguine:

I’m a very angry person by nature. One of the biggest causes of my anger is the Holocaust, where my anger is mainly aimed at any Jews who show signs of not standing up against anti-Semites. (I have no anger towards the Nazis, for anger implies a certain level of respect).

I’m also a jolly person. I can make people laugh, usually women, but only because I try harder with women. I don’t mind making a fool of myself, either by dancing around like a spastic, or making ugly faces, or farting. But even though I have the ability to make people laugh, I could never be a stand-up comedian, because I don’t really care what strangers think of me. The people who really matter to me know me already, and I don’t need to explain myself to anyone else or make them love me.

I’m also what some people would call a Socialist, or Liberal. But basically I just hate capitalism. I don’t like it when people think economics and flow of capital is how everything works. I end up not liking the people who think the world works like that. It doesn’t. Those people ignore the whole of the natural world, which is dangerously arrogant. When I meet a capitalist, I ask him if he shits. If only more people remembered about shit. It leads to True Socialism (via drainage, epidemiology and sanitation).

Thank you Laurel and Manu. I need this Place.
Click to expand...

Oh the holocaust survivors. I am sure my great, great grandchildren will sue the Germans for that, just like the Native Indians continue to do in North America.
 
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