Welcome to the United States of White Supremacy


The thing is this has always been a fait accompli, the shit was woven into our founding document. Right there in paragraph three of section two:

Representatives and direct Taxes shall be apportioned among the several States which may be included within this Union, according to their respective Numbers, which shall be determined by adding to the whole Number of free Persons, including those bound to Service for a Term of Years, and excluding Indians not taxed, three fifths of all other Persons.

Which in essence means that if a southern state had 50,000 “other Persons” which would add at least one representative to the state in question. Still in paragraph three:

The Number of Representatives shall not exceed one for every thirty Thousand, but each State shall have at Least one Representative;and until such enumeration shall be made, the State of New Hampshire shall be entitled to chuse three, Massachusetts eight, Rhode-Island and Providence Plantations one, Connecticut five, New-York six, New Jersey four, Pennsylvania eight, Delaware one, Maryland six, Virginia ten, North Carolina five, South Carolina five, and Georgia three.

One might wonder if Virginia in this case had enough slaves to grant it an extra representative or two. In any event, from the get go the South has had us by the balls. They were able to count slaves toward the amount of Representation they would hav in congress an after a very brief respite during the era of reconstruction were able to count “free” black persons while denying those very souls the right to vote.

Last night someone asked why they waited so long to deliver the findings. I would say that there are several reasons: One. Cover of darkness to make it more difficult to determine what was happening and where, when the tear gas started flying. Two. To provide opportunities for the collection of images of Blacks on Rampage to ensure that the media had plenty of “they had it coming” fodder to the drooling masses that directly benefit from White Supremacy. Three. So the drooling minions of mammon, among others we have Jonah Goldberg can “wingsplain” the reason that it is the season to get the heathens.

I believe the grand jury operated in good faith and from what I can tell Officer Wilson had the facts and evidence on his side. Given the eagerness of some parties to exploit Brown’s death, it’s tempting to see this as a partisan victory against the forces of Sharptonism. And while I can’t muster sympathy for the looters, car-burners, the dress-up Bolsheviks and that ilk, I am trying to see this through the eyes of those I disagree with.

The last bit being possibly the most disingenuous thing this particular shartiste has allowed to pass from his pressure release valve. Following that nothingburger in his inimitable style I’ll leave the parsing for those whose skulls have not been softened by a constant pounding into a hard surface.

If McCulloch wanted an indictment, I think he could have gotten one (prosecutors and ham sandwiches and all that). Whether he should have gotten one is open to debate. I certainly think you could make the case that the country would be better off in the long run if there was an open and transparent public trial. On the other hand, we don’t have trials of innocent men simply for appearances’ sake. Having a trial just for show is too close to a show trial as far as I’m concerned.

The last sentence is too clever by half of half.


Strange Fruit Flambè, or Tarmac Roasted Brother™


“Bennie Simmons, alive, soaked in coal oil before being set on fire. June 13, 1913. Anadarko, Oklahoma.”

They didn’t fuck around back in the day. They knew how to string up a man so he wouldn’t die right away, so they could extend the show. I am sure that a flaming corpse will tickle the nethers for awhile, but a full-on-medieval, live flaming body, has got to fill an observers pants with all kinds of moisture.

“Bennie Simmons, or Dennis Simmons, accused of the murder of sixteen-year old Susie Church, was taken from prison guards in Anadarko, Oklahoma. His killers led him to a nearby bridge and hanged him from the limb of a cottonwood tree flourishing by a stream. ”

The Negro prayed and shrieked in agony as the flames reached his flesh,” reported a local newspaper, “but his cries were drowned out by yells and jeers of the mob.” As Simmons began to lose consciousness the mob fired at the body, cutting it to pieces. ” The mobsters made no attempt to conceal their identity,” remarked the Enfaula Democrat, “but there were no prosecutions.” Purchased in Oklahoma.

I think we can add a new definition to “Call and Response.”

“…flourishing by a stream”…Nice touch, because I was concerned with the health of that tree.

Now in 1913 there was no internet to get the LynchPorn™ delivered, but they had you covered; should you have missed out, they sold Post Cards: “Gelatin silver print. Real photo postcard. 31/4 x 5 in.”

Etched into negative, “Edies Photo Anadarko Oklo””

Which means that they didn’t just print off ten or fifteen . As Without Sanctuary makes clear there was a market, and these were collectables.

Now we have often gagged about the tendency of the Projectithoritarians™, Tories by any other name, to drag us into a new gilded age, it has become clear that they want the full monty, and fortunately in the early part of the 21st century they can enjoy their Lynching Hard-ons by proxy.

Like, for instance, leaving a dead man in the street for four hours so a thorough investigation can take place or so as many might get the “message” as possible. Undoubtedly Mr Simmons remains were left up in the cottonwood tree to give those the chance what missed the party and who could not wait for the Post Card an opportunity to take part ex-facto and anyone else for whom a message might be delivered, to receive it.


Take note of the left arm in the Photo above, what you see is some high tech, top of the line, pocket investigation equipment, (one wonders if it plays pool.)

That the stream of blood running from Michael Brown’s lifeless body resembles a rope, is simply a side effect of slope, but it does resemble a rope and this was a lynching.

Near as anyone can tell this will be an awesome thanksgiving week for African Americans as it has been intimated that the results of the Grand Jury deliberations shall be released this week. We shall see.

[Edited for clarity]


Still got Nothing, Or Mayhaps too Much.

A number of things have conspired in any number of attempts to conjure up a Sadly worthy jeremiad over about the last four or five months. and there were many things that came like a flood of fodder during that time, starting near-abouts with Ferguson and the dead kid left in the street for four hours.

Some shit just knocks the wind out of you and being hit by a fusillade of hatred, naked racism and bullshit can on the right days get to even the most tightly girded of us.

Personally, there was the job I had to get out of lest I appear before a judge on assault charges, some rather uncomfortable issues with my health which stole time, vim and vigor. The laptop went down (more accurately the power supply went down and with a battery life measured in minutes…we are in brick territory.) Thank the FSM that I know how to use a soldering iron.

So the good news is that Lappie™ is back in business after a six week hiatus. My body seems to be gaining strength after a month of pain. While I am not sure where next months rent is going to come I figure I can manage a patron. The return of JP is of great solace as well.

Yesterday, I was cleaning/straightening up my room and ran across my beloved Nexus 7 which I had given up for a brick over a year ago. For shits and grins I thought I might plug it in and attempt to charge the beast. I honestly had no hope whatsoever given previous attempts, but 20 minutes later I caught the google bootup screen out of the corner of my eye and was like “You’re fucking kidding me.” I had to make sure that I left it alone for at least an hour as I went about my business (this was hard).

Happy to say that after 5 software updates the Nexus is humming along with the latest version of Android and I am a happy camper. I am going to take this as a sign that things are beginning to turn in this holler. If the Opinel and Swedish fire steel make an appearance all the better.

Sometimes it is the little things…


Post-Election Hangover

Everybody in the club getting tipsy

I’ll admit I reeked of booze on election night. To be fair, it was because my girlfriend placed a poorly sealed glass of scotch in a really precarious place and it spilled all over me, but fuck it, I’m counting it.

Ugh… I had a sinking suspicion this would be the result and by sinking suspicion, I mean Nate Silver foretold it in the exacting way he has done every other election, and so knew this was a given and so began drinking early just to be ready.

And it makes sense for it to go this way this time. Yes, Republicans are still more crazed than a wolverine on meth and are still dedicated to getting petty revenge on the filthy “others” who dare pretend they are people by burning everything to the ground. But they also managed something this election cycle they haven’t in previous years. Which is not letting their reptilian masks slip too much before they were put in seats of real damage. There was not an exorbitant amount of candidates ranting about witches or the Trilateral Commission. Heck, they’ve even managed to keep their talking points relatively bland and most importantly of all, seem to have mostly cut out the right-wing noise machine entirely, letting them focus almost exclusively on demonizing individual Democrats than doing much defending of their worst offenders.

Mix that in with a bunch of battleground states that were mostly carried through on Obama’s tidal wave back in 2008 and the fact that most of the supposed liberal candidates were too afraid of being called commies or “liberals” to actually defend super popular ideas like the increase in minimum wage and our slightly expanded health care and of course the wonderful help provided by our Supreme Court in rubber-stamping the modern “literacy tests” and well, it’d make sense that the Reptilians would be able to claw and scrape themselves into a position where they can at least more effectively derail not only legislation, but even congressional debate that isn’t about one of their endless hobby horses.

It’s understandable, but still shitty, seeing as how nothing has really changed and conservative ideas have only become more insane, disconnected from reality, and pettily abusive to see the usual groups of morons forget that the election cycle it isn’t shoved in their face repeatedly. And I can draw comfort in the continued social victories, that minimum wage increases are succeeding even in glibertarian hellholes and that there is continued peel-back at least in my state of the entrenched and vile prison-industrial complex and drug war. Not to mention the utter failure of the professional homophobes to even really get much in the way of anti-gay legislation to the ballot, much less win.

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Reefer Homicidal Madness

I think I got this! No is the answer, right? Yeah, I’m definitely going to go with “no”

Cliff Kincaid, Stream of Consciousness America:
Can Marijuana Fuel Jihad

I think unhinged wingnuttery can sometimes be viewed almost like musical pieces…. not good music mind you. After all that requires craftsmanship and effort, two things most wingnuts are tragically fatally allergic to (or at least I’d assume that’s the case given their bowel-movement like regular posts). But certainly the type of music produced by a bunch of kids entering into their first Battle of the Bands without practicing because their “natural talent” is going to make them “megastars”.

And given that lens, we can see the evolution of genres like the worst radio station on the planet.

I mean, you’ve got the throat-scratching primal screams of hate, the ham-fisted metal-like noise of people who think simple loudness equates to technical proficiency and sweeping baroque like illustrations. And you’ve got the insufferable version of an emo self-pitying cry apeing the alienation of the genre to instead wax poetically on the immeasurable and seemingly invisible slings and arrows suffered by the overfed and powerful at the hands of such nebulous concepts as “gubmint” and “social justice warrriorrrs (come out to play-ay)”. And let us not forget the insufferably pompous attempts at deep intellectual and complex work farted out by the equivalent of a talentless boy band, hoping that overwrought swoops and nonsensical metaphors will somehow equate to having anything of worth to sing about. And all manner of paycheck songs, album filler to round out the set and keep the crowd awake as one wonders on the wisdom of quitting one’s day job.

And of course, today’s output: the genre mashup. Now, I generally love genre mashup pieces, as one might expect from an old-school techno fan. When well-done, they can give new life to multiple styles of music and produce a much-needed fresh sound.

But sometimes, you get messes like these. Discordant noise made out of ill-stitched standbys of the genre in order to create a horrifying Frankensteinian monstrosity from still rotting tissue.

And unlike The Monster, there is no saving this tragic beast.

Shorter (or the last port before Jungle):

  • In the course of human affairs, it appears that right-wing myths about mary-jew-juan-a can explain why the sand-monkeys and niggers are violent and dangerous forces needing only the most exacting elimination. To demonstrate this, I will casually assume, yes, a handful of right-wing muslims in the news used this shit, but such pedestrian concerns tire me greatly, so instead allow me to devote the majority of my time to the smearing of those darkies slaughtered by our brave and certainly not high at all cops, lest any forget that the whole mary-jane panic is about (and has always been about) demonizing the faggots, the niggers, and the assorted commie scum.

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Piss-ing off the Haters

Oh hey, when Matt Barber was last relevant.

So it turns out exiting a giant tangle of part-time work actually takes a bit of time and a lot of work training my replacements. Not to mention the effort of finding a rhythm with my new job. Even worse, I’ve been happy. All of this has added up to the fact that I’ve fallen off my game and hard.

So I need something to get me back in the harvesting mood. Something ignorant as fuck, obviously. Something willingly deluded to any reality you or me might call home, duh. And of course, something hateful and blindingly reasserting of a narrow subset of white sexist douchebag supremacy, because yeah. But that’s something I can get at any nickel and dime conservative post on the internet.

If I truly want to get the old flame burning again, I need to find something special. Something…

Matt “I can’t stop looking at gay porn for… research, yeah research honest…” Barber, Scream ‘Murica:
’LGBT’: The ’T’ is for Tyranny

Boom! There it is.

So apparently even the dedicated dead-enders of the professional homophobe movement have begun seeing the writing on the walls and are getting mighty nervous about how many victories gay rights have had recently and how much fewer and fewer people there are every year who can be relied on to send him their life savings in exchange for ranting pronouncements of just how dirty and sinful those half-naked gay men are.

And as such, just like the leaves turn in fall, so must bigots turn to the latest flavor to further delay the day when they would have to get a real job. And luckily for them (and unluckily for those of us given the short straw in the genetic lottery) there is a convenient oppressed group close enough related to mostly rely on a quick find and replace on the standard newsletter. That of course being people with pronounced dimples…

Wait, I read that wrong. I meant to say trans* people, because of course it is. I mean, wingnuts have already been shifting that way since the writing first popped up on the walls and trans* people are entering into that stage of the rights struggle where they are visible enough to be a fundraising topic, while hated enough and politically unrepresented enough to be a reliable and safe group to publicly despise.


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Did You Know that Friendship was a Fungible Commodity?

I wonder, can you purchase friends at the Applebee’s Salad Bar?

Bobo* Brooks, Washington Faust:
There Are Social and Political Benefits to Having Friends

You know what I hate?


Yeah, you heard me, dirty filthy moochers stealing up my hard-earned tax dollars what with their unamerican whines of “but I need to eat” or “I don’t want to die here on the streets”. Oh boy fucking hoo, what about my stock portfolio, that’s what I say.

You know, I used to mock overprivileged assholes on this blog who seemed to think that everyone would become just as sociopathic, bigoted, egocentric, and short-sighted as them if only they were able to tug hard on their bootstraps and magic their way into that full-time middle-class employment that is totally on every street corner just waiting for someone white go-getting enough to seize it.

But now that I’ve caught that elusive golden snitch and just now seized a full-time teaching job with nothing but hard work, moxie, and good-ol’ inherent worthiness, I realize the folly of my former socialist ways. Sure, this random conflux of events is somewhat… clouded by the desperation that preceded it and the grim knowledge that a bit of crucially timed luck is the only thing that separates me now from the homeless woman hiding under a blanket in a street alcove or the tragedy of Kate von Roeder. I mean, it’s not like I can erase the way I had to casually discard an important dream and retreat to a dangerous self-loathing head-space to try and put together some form of panicked short-term survival. Nor can I avoid catching a glimpse of the still-healing scar all up and down my left arm from a recent wake-up-warning suicide attempt only foiled by gross incompetence and skin apparently as hard as Emma Frost’s.

Or the fact that this random bit of luck on my part does not change the terrifying reality that faces many more my age who are barred from full participation in the economy or the fact that I’m only one bad boss or broken closet door away from being right back in a capitalism-fueled mess that very nearly took away the last of my sanity and self-preservation. Having to forego food and basic necessities out of stubborn pride and refusal to deny my being for a chance at life.
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Portrait of a Court Jester

Okay, maybe he could also manage being a sandwich artisan.

Meritocracy Spokesman, Jonah Goldberg, National Catnap:
What ‘War on Women’?

Jonah Goldberg legitimately fascinates me.

And I think a large part of it has to do with the unique role he serves in the right-wing writing-whorepit. He’s deliberately lazy and incurious, so much so that he can’t quite commit to the hand-wringing faux-intellectualism of a Christina Hoff Summers or a Ross “I fear women” Douthat, though he certainly does try (for about 3.5 seconds from time to time). Nonetheless, he doesn’t quite have the full lobotomy that leads one to earnestly believe that Obama is a muslim lizardman from Alpha Centauri here to steal our white women though again, he’s willing to pander to that misshapen mass as demonstrated by his successful mass-production of the “nuh uh, you” school of argument.

Additionally, he’s a protected mama’s boy and fancies himself a gen-yoo-ine scholar who thinks really deep thoughts and occasionally like whole dozens of words on his own and like opens a book or two and really wants to be accepted as the super-smart academifyness that he thinks that makes him.

And this all adds up to some legitimately fascinating and unique moments. I mean, at the end of the day, it all adds up to Liberal Fascism and begging people to do his job for him, but between those hallmarks of Jonah, there’s little moments of treasonous thoughts. Little bits where he unwittingly sails dangerously close to actual knowledge or actual acknowledgment of reality and almost falls off the reservation before trusting that his classic laziness will make the bad hurting feeling that causes in his head to go away.

Shorter (or the last port before Jungle):

  • Man, if reality and the feminazis are right, then this rape culture is fucking insane and brutal and I’d be an asshole for supporting it and shitting on the only people trying to fix it… thus, it must all be make-believe because I as the All-Holy Penis-Bearer know the lives of women far better than any she-creature.

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That Grinding Noise You Hear is Propaganda Crashing on the Wall of Reality

Cognitive dissonance, much like metalwork, is an impressive thing to see in action.

Ian Tuttle the Coffee Boy, National Retread:
No More Rotherhams!

One could easily make the argument that right-wingers easily get wrapped up and lost in their own propaganda campaigns and grand story telling. And by make the argument, I mean pointing at pretty much any right-wing obsession and going duh, because it’s pretty much the required standard. By this point, if the call has come down from on high to obsess and repeat, it’s pretty much guaranteed to be 100% bullshit designed to try and kickstart a non-event into something the bobble-head news anchors can latch onto in order to continue to ignore the ever-continuing Depression or the explosion of the police state and various crimes against women and minorities.

But while those Benghazis and Obamacare Death Panels are “fun” to deal with time and time again, I think the most interesting aspect of the propaganda campaign are the moments when the right-wing noise machine accidentally stumbles on something that is partially noteworthy and then proceeds to drown out its potential lessons in the mad dash to absorb these events into grand conservative narratives.

One more tragic example of this is the explosion around ISIL, where the raw noise of outrage about a terrorist group in the country we utterly destroyed with our dumbassery trying to drag us back into their conflicts because we were the single best recruitment vehicle they could have ever hoped for going around killing journalists (because apparently it’s only bad when dirty bad foreigners kill journalists in Iraq*) is actually dragging us back into that misguided clusterfuck of a war**.

But a more fascinating example (at least in my opinion) is the attempt to hijack yet another tragic story about the failures to address child molestation and violence in the UK in order to feed the “Islamic Menace is going to conquer Europe and faggy liberals will let it happen” skreepocalypse while also pretending that child molestation and violence is somehow uniquely an issue with the “mongrel races” as these neo-nazis would put it.

And that disconnect between reality and what conservatives so desperately want it to be sometimes leads to utterly amazing things:


  • Interviewer: So tell us about how the evil muslims molested girls like you and how the nasty evil government covered it up with their liberalness.
    Interviewee: Um, here’s the reality of child molestation and how global and common an issue it is and-
    Interviewer: Yeah, yeah, but what about-
    Interviewee: [Reality]
    Interviewer: B-but [Propanda]

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Full of Nothing, Signifying Sound and Fury

The sad thing is I could probably do a variant cover for every Fox News bobblehead and still not have enough for all the cookie-cutter blonde cylons that are chunked out of the lab.

Katherine Timpf, National We Will Literally Hire Anyone Who Has Made a Failed Wingnut Product in the Last 20 years:
Feminists Blame Patriarchy for Not being Able to Skateboard

Wingnut language is weird.

I mean, I’ve already commented ad nauseating on the weird way right-wing rants have begun to form almost an entirely separate language made up of only dog whistles and desperate pleading requests for continuing tribal protections. And such habits have only gotten worse in the era of Teabagger purges and the predictable cost of training an entire political movement in nothing but paranoia and conspiracy theories.

But I don’t think I’ve fully driven into the ground the equally laughable quirk of wingnut language of reacting to every usage of common words that the right-wing has decided are scary with the sort of mind-numbing terror one’d expect from a skimpily-clothed teenager who’s just had her boyfriend murdered in the car next to her.

We’ve seen it flare up here and there over the years. Rapture-fetishists freaking out over the notion of peace and loving one another because they’ve decided that’s the secret code for the antichrist. Wingnuts freaking out over the notion of empathy because they didn’t like a brown woman nominated by a black man talking about it. Every single bitter old rant about some aspect of youth culture that stick-in-the-mud squares want to pretend are single-handedly destroying the great nation that totally existed in the television shows of their youths.
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