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appledexterlini
29 October 2008 @ 06:34 pm
Yesterday, I had the pleasure of standing in line with approximately 10,000 other nitwits in an attempt to see Barack Obama speak at James Madison University, despite the bitter cold, my view of the horrendously ugly CISAT building for the first several hours, (which, as the line inched on, was soon replaced with the even more hideous Interstate 81) and my complete and total lack of enthusiasm for Obama or any other politician. Usually this is the sort of event I enjoy making mischief at, but this time I opted to be a passive participant in the gruesome spectacle. (Although I did indulge in yelling an excessively inflammatory political slogan at a CNN cameraman as his camera was rolling and pointing in my direction) The ground was littered with plastic cups, Coca-Cola bottles, pizza boxes, playing cards, and filth-riddled sleeping bags everywhere, obviously abandoned by those who had spent the freezing cold night in order to see The Great Orator. Before taking my place at the back of the obscenely long line, (The line stretched for about a mile and it was only one of three lines) I spotted my friend Ray, the portly, semi-homeless Schizophrenic, who, amidst his stuttering, informed me that there were "few people" he'd "stand in the cold for hours to see", but that Barack Obama was "one of them". (For some reason, this reminded me of a tasteless remark made by the young John Lennon - "Wherever we went there's always a few seats laid aside for cripples and people in wheelchairs... they're pushing them at you like you're Christ or something.") As I took my place in line, rumors were spreading throughout the crowd that Bill O'Reilly was in town, although I was unable to substantiate this.

The crowd mostly consisted of college students, but there were some working-class blacks there as well. Industrious scalpers walked up and down the line, selling home-made Barack Obama memorabilia. (The most exceptionally tasteless being a lapel pin with a picture of Obama next to Dr. King, reading "A LEGACY OF HOPE") One young black man with a beard paced past us three or three times, with white T-shirts with the standard face-of-Big-Brother "CHANGE" layout printed on the front, and every time he would advertise his shirts by accurately predicting that "this is the closest you'll get to Barack Obama". Every time he said this, an older black woman behind me would say "I dawn' think so!" Another, significantly less endearing scalper, a pasty, balding, flabby, pale middle-aged man, handed out hand-towels with Barack Obama's face on them, (I guess in case the event was relocated to the middle of a swimming pool, or perhaps in case someone felt the urge to jack off in line and needed a come-rag) while attempting to stir the crowd with an incredibly uninspiring jingle along the lines of "don't dilly-dally now, get your Obama rally towel". (An associate who arrived at a later time informs me that he also used "Don't disappoint your momma, buy a towel of Obama") The man who probably made the most bank was a clever motherfucker who had the word "OBAMA" printed on warm winter hats.

While the scalpers were merely admirable, without a doubt the single greatest irritation aside from the cold was the Obama Youth, a.k.a. the Obama campaign volunteers, whose job it was to force every person in line to give up their personal information so they could be contacted in order to volunteer to help Obama get elected. They even went as far as to lie to us, telling us we couldn't get in otherwise. I attempted to fill out the form, (using my standard fake email address, varg03@gmail.com) but I mostly just produced illegible scribbles, as the chill rendered my hand about as useful for manipulating a ball-point-pen as rubber chicken grafted to a human wrist.

The real lulz didn't start until the McCainite protesters got on the scene. From what I observed, the entire anti-Obama protest presence consisted of nothing more than a late thirty-something WASP couple with a puppy on a leash, (I made a comment as they were approaching that a puppy on a leash may not be the wisest of things to bring with you to a political demonstration, and those around me agreed) holding up make-shift signs with such inspiring slogans as "WE ARE ALL JOE THE PLUMBER", "NO SOCIALISM, NOBAMA", and "AMERICA DESERVES SARAH PALIN". (The latter of which I can definitely agree with) As they approached, the husband made a joke about how his dog "is a Democrat" because he "has him on a leash", (I immediately interpreted his comment as betraying the man's sub-conscious sexual desires) while the wife remained sheepishly quiet, her polite facade clearly about to give way under the pressure of unenthusiasm and frustration at being dragged to this event by her husband. Dying with anticipation at the prospect of having a political conversation with someone other than a generic Obamanoid, I attempted to heckle him, shouting "Isn't John McCain also a socialist?" (deciding it was wisest to try to communicate with him in his own language) Rather than giving a thoughtful reply, he simply looked me in the eye, said "no", and walked on. I then shouted something at him about how John McCain isn't going to reinstate the gold standard, but there was no response.

Around this time, the campus Leftists, who are slightly more disciplined than myself, began handing out their political propaganda, which was significantly more intelligent than the McCainites'. Also around this time, a CNN employee scanned the line, asking for "independent voters". I volunteered myself, and she asked why, and I said that "as a Mennonite, voting is against my religion". Bored by my response, she politely withdrew from the conversation to look for someone else to interview. (In retrospect, I should have offered a much more inflammatory response)

It didn't take long for chaos to ensue, as the thousands of faithful pilgrims began to realize that their hours of waiting to get into the building would probably be in vain. Dozens of people began forcefully pushing to the front of the line. Aghast, a middle-class liberal hausfrau shouted "THIS ISN'T THE OBAMA WAY!" Another woman used the five-year-old girl she was maliciously dragging along by the hand through the cold (to see a politician the child presumably couldn't have cared less about) as a fulcrum to guilt the line-cutters, whining that "MY DAUGHTER HAS BEEN WAITING IN THE COLD FOR FOUR HOURS TO SEE OBAMA". (The black woman behind me was more dignified, proclaiming that "y'all folks [the butters] gotta go back ta' tha' back. My feet hurt like hayell") As those in the front of the line began to head back en masse, everyone realized that the convocation center was already packed to it's fullest capacity. The disappointment was almost immediately replaced with frenzied excitement, as members of the crowd began shouting "IT'S HIM!" and "HE'S OVER THERE!" With animalistic fury, the mob of brainwashed Obama fans pushed and shoved their way recklessly towards the soccer field next to the convocation center, abandoning their possessions and bordering on trampling one another, as the Obama campaign volunteers tried impotently to direct the belligerent frenzy. The old black woman and I meandered in the direction of the stampede at a more patient pace, until we found ourselves surrounded by a crowd of people, children on the backs of adults, every other person holding up a recording-device of some sort. That's when I realized I was about 20 feet away from the most famous human being in the world, Barack Hussein Obama, who gave us all a lame lecture about how we need to "get out the vote" and then wrapped it up with a ham-hearted "go get 'em, Duke Dogs!" and then informed us he was off to "shake some hands". He mysteriously disappeared, and everyone clamored to the convocation center, pressing up against the windows and shouting "LET US IN, LET US IN, LET US IN!" while others (including myself) stole abandoned food and water.

As I walked home, I drank from a gallon-bottle of distilled water I found on the ground, and, a good-ol'-boy member of the Harrisonburg Police Department, recognizing me as a fellow redneck and mistaking my water for a jug of moonshine, said "whatever you got in there, I want some". The first time I've agreed wholeheartedly with a cop in a while...

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appledexterlini
13 October 2008 @ 03:25 pm
A while back, I got the compulsion to try to pass myself off as a fascist on the Rotten Tomatoes message board. By happenstance, I have rediscovered the fruit of this endeavor, and am posting it for your benefit. Enjoy

Thule Warrior's Best and Worst of late 2006/early 2007

Aqua Teen Hunger Force Colon Movie Film for Theaters
This morally degenerate film represents everything horrendous about our decaying, mongrelized culture. A generation of physically and intellectually crippled effeminates has been raised by the hypnotic eye of institutions such as Cartoon Network in nothing more than an attempt to ressurect the decadence and cultural degredation of the early 20th century avant garde. The intent of peddlers of degenerate "art" in both the former and the latter halves of the 20th century is the same - undermining the traditions that ensure our existence as a people. The only difference is that back in those days, we had strong, fierce-willed leaders who knew how to handle subversive art; by taking the awesome responsibility to no longer allow it to contaminate the mental health of the population. We are living in the time of Ragnarok - on the one hand, we have people who believe in justice, order, and the well-being of the traditional family unit, and on the other hand, we have bomb-throwing anarchists who gleefully delight in the nihilistic and pornographic fever dreams of the pothead sons of liberal media gurus. We need another president like Bill Clinton* - be in L.A., Waco, or Seattle, he knew how to restore justice, with the jack-boot, and when anarchist terrorist disciples of Aqua Teen Hunger Force hold major metropolitan areas hostage with moon cult-themed psychological warfare, it's time to strike back with the dexterity and precision of a viper and scorch the earth of the virus that threatens the security of our great nation. Kids will say I'm too old to "get with it", to appreciate the profound artistic statement of watching a robot have sex with an orange alien. I pray this be a blessing on my part, because I've tasted their remedies for "teen hunger" and they are indeed quite foul.
0 out of 5 stars

Pan's Labyrinth
An equally disgusting and deplorable film, and in a much more subtle and sinister way. I knew things were bad but I never knew they had gotten this bad! A double-decker of 100-percent-open Red propaganda and rosy-eyed glorification of the matriarchal diabolism of the Neolithic European savages. Less astute audience members falsely assume the faeries, trolls, satyrs, and angels that populate this film to be mere whimsy, unaware of the very sinister and very real origins of these creatures. WE ARE AT WAR with the intellectual descendants of the protagonists of this film! You may not take fairies and giants and dragons seriously but the adepts of Illuminism and Invisiblism take them very seriously. What seems like up-beat fantasy escapism is really a ridiculously blatant bout of cheer-leading for Pagan decadence that seeks to undermine every achievement of European civilization - capitalism, democracy, the Enlightenment, progress! The antagonist in this film is a general in Franco's army - the protagonists are openly identified as anarchist insurrectionist guerrillas who want to reduce Spain to chaos and lawlessness. Would moviegoers tolerate a film about black radicals murdering heroic local police officers? Heck no! But the fog of history conceals this film's advocacy of terrorism - terrorism against the Spain of Franco, one of the most courageous leaders in modern history, and by proxy, terrorism against all forces of decency in the world. Were Pan's Labyrinth to be recast as Osama's Labyrinth, in which Islamic fundamentalists take the place of Spanish anarchists and a general of the modern-day U.S. replace one of 40s Spain, who would dare grant the film the unanimous praise that professional reviewers have given this film? And if we show weakness at the hands of the enemy, life will imitate art in the case of this film's ending, mobs of anarchist riff-raff engaging in extra-judicial executions of all who fight to preserve Western democracy coupled with initiates into the cult of Luna taking their place on golden thrones, next to their sinister gods, with the demonic "faun" grinning behind them knowingly.
0 out of 5 stars

Pathfinder
At this point, you're thinking that it's just the froo-froo arthouse tear-jerkers and avant garde pieces of pornography for mentally retarded stoner-hipsters that have been ruthlessly coated in venomous propaganda. To shatter this naive delusion, a trip to your local cinema to see Pathfinder is all that's needed. A fun popcorn flick? Think again. A blond-haired, blue-eyed viking takes up arms against his blond-haired blue-eyed kindred who are struggling heroically to colonize America to make it a safe and productive land - in defense of a tribe of cannibal barbarians who, if they had won out ion the end, would have us all wallowing in our own dung in mud huts worshiping hideous idols, thus serving as a parable that justifies the most despicable acts of race-tretchery encouraged by almost every facet of our increasingly corrupt and decadent society. I for one am sorry that a nobleman like Lief Erikson lost out against the flesh-eating Indian savage and grateful that civilized men like Columbus and Washington won out in the end, but maybe that's just me!
1 out of 5 stars

Apocalypto
If you want to see an accurate depiction of pre-Columbian life, look no further. The blood-drinking savages in this film are not a quaint relic of history, their descendants make up the majority of the population of Mexico, itching at the border to steal our jobs and contaminate our culture. Is it a surprise that Mel Gibson's adroit vision has made him a pariah in an entertainment industry run by bloodthirsty liberals?
5 out of 5 stars

300
WOW! What a film! Nothing could more beautifully and completely contain to the very dot the current political situation of the world. Pure-blooded, masculine Spartan men fought to the death rather than have their country run over by a gang of sodomites, deformed cripples, and beastial mongrel-men of all tribes, their bodies self-mutilated beyond recognition and their minds polluted by Pagan occultism and anti-democratic despotism. SOUND FAMILIAR? It's no coincidence. Frank Miller, author of the source comic book, put it very eloquantly: "Let's finally talk about the enemy. Somebody--for some reason, nobody seems to be talking about who we're up against,uh, and the sixth-century barbarism they actually represent. These people saw peoples' heads off. They enslave women, they genetically mutilate their daughters. Um, they, they, they do not behave by any cultural norms that are sensible to us. Um, I'm speaking into a microphone that never could've been a product of their culture. And I'm living in a city where 3,000 of my neighbors were killed by, uh, thieves of airplanes they never could've built." This movie puts the camera lens right in the face of the brutal barbarism of our enemies and the heroism of the men keeping the barbarians at the gate, many thanks in part to Miller's precision-grasp of apocalyptic current events. A man after my own heart, he is currently penning a comic in which Batman battles Al-Qaeda, a breath of fresh air in an industry ruled by occult-minded anarchist moonbat hacks such as Alan Moore and Grant Morrison. Please tell me this is the next big budget Miller adaptation, it may be just what our county needs in these troubling times.
5 out of 5 stars

*I cannot endorse his personal life, but he is leagues above the Skull and Bones illuminist currently making himself feel fit to run our beautiful country into the mud with despicable acts of deliberate acts of white genocide such as the guest-worker visa program and the overt softness and incompetence when confronting terrorist scum.


The thread was very quickly locked, but I believe it's time for another. Any film requests for Thule Warrior to review?

 
 
 
appledexterlini
Various editions of the Joy of Cooking authored by Irma Rombauer between 1931 and 1975:
-Written in conversational first person by wry, stodgy, conservative, working-class houstewife
-Contains instructions on how to serve and prepare game from squirrel to oppossum to raccoon to armadillo (as well as endangered sea turtle)
-Boycotts microwaves and instant formula packages
-Chapter headings: "Hors d'Oeuvre", "Canapés and Tea Sandwiches", "Griddle Cakes and Fritter Variations", "Stuffings and Forcemeat", "Canning, Salting, Smoking and Drying", "Pickles and Relishes"

NONE OF THIS IS TRUE OF THE 1997 EDITION WHICH WAS RUTHLESSLY PURGED OF ANYTHING REMOTELY AWESOME ABOUT THE BOOK, INCLUDING HOW TO MAKE A PYRAMID OUT OF CHAMPAGNE GLASSES, (NOT TO MENTION THE ENTIRE COCKTAIL SECTION)

1997 "ALL-NEW, ALL-PURPOSE" EDITION WAS "ghostwritten by teams of expert chefs" (Source: Voukipedjo) IE: RACHEL RAY AND EMERIL LAGASSE DEEP WITHIN THE UNDERGROUND HEADQUARTER'S WOLFGANG PUCK'S SHARK-SURROUNDED VOLCANIC ISLAND HIDE-OUT

FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO WOULD THINK TO DEFEND THE 1997 EDITION OF THE JOY OF COOKING, SAVE YOUR ARGUMENTS FOR PATRICK BATEMAN AS THE TWO OF YOU ENJOY A HALF OF TABLE SPOON OF TABLESPOON OF PUREED SLOP AND BLENDED PALM TREE PULP PLACED DELICATELY ON A THIN PITA WEDGE WITH LLAMA JIZZ GARNISH YOU FUCKING YUPPIE PIECE OF SHIT