President Trump’s capitalized diplomacy.

Tee-hee. Sweet.

Yeah man, those CAPS scream diplomatic saber rattling, ala Twitter.

I hate Sunday evenings, too.


*Mosquitoes welcome*

Addendum: as I stated in this comment, I was thoroughly “out-ironic-ed” by Tanaisia. It would appear her Facebook post was a brilliant observation wryly twisted…


Mosquitoes…refugees.  Elementally, is there even a difference to the host victim?

If one lives in a healthy, civilized body, why would a reasonable person open his arms to diseased dysfunction which will not merely intrude on his peace, but destroy and devour it as well?

Human nature is such that it does not collectively improve through the injection of misery and inefficiency.  The trajectory of colliding cultures is always downward.  Humans do not miraculously improve when a subtle infusion of parasitic needs enters the house;  we race downwards, not upwards.  We are not lofty, and the limitations of the lesser necessarily suffocate the aspirations of the gifted.

So why would a man profit by the introduction of mosquitoes?

Well, this sick bitch doesn’t seem to care.



Her sickness is the West’s.

The West is afflicted with a grandiose sense of self-flagellating masochism that fetishizes personal destruction and relinquishment of dignity and security.

It is counter-evolutionary to an astounding degree.

Mosquitoes today…refugees tomorrow.   Western women are the nexus of this cultural masochism.



Deadly intersectionality: ghetto doom invades hipster complacency in Los Angeles.

I dislike Trader Joe’s. Mainly because the customer base irks me. They have the worst grocery aisle etiquette of most stores, and tend to be fastidiously and spastically self-involved. The produce is overpriced (and most of my grocery purchases involve produce since I cook at home).

I will say this about Trader Joe’s: their dairy prices are pretty good.  I will buy their organic milk and Greek yogurt if I’m visiting. Their prepackaged frozen food is pretty good.  I love their chicken-lime patties, and the soy ginger frozen cod fillets are the best damn thing ever.  In fact, they have several meat (and non-meat) patty variations which all tend to be quick and tasty for those lazy nights you’re looking to avoid prolonged food prep.  The Masala burgers are my favorite.

But I can’t hang with that damned hipster, Lib vibe I get every time I’m in one of their stores. Some areas are worse than others.  An Orange County Trader Joe’s is quite a different vibe than the one in the Silver Lake neighborhood of Los Angeles.

Urban pretension versus suburban blandness.

Despite the gritty affectations that urban hipsters exude behind their “hard” tattooed, emaciated exteriors, they are mostly lightweights who wouldn’t know what to do if a real life situation arose in which they needed to diffuse a little threatening criminality.  That is not an “intersectionality” you see much. These urbanorganic vegan types immerse themselves in the ghetto artifice of movies and television and Youtube and music, but they prefer it does not intrude into their everyday life.

Well yesterday, that little hipster bubble burst for an afternoon.

The ghetto came knockin’ and one person was dead after the dust cleared.


Melyda Corado


What Happened: A suspect who shot his grandmother and another woman in South L.A. earlier in the day was being chased by police when his car crashed into a post in front of the Trader Joe’s at 2738 Hyperion Avenue. He emerged from the car and went into the store as he and officers exchanged fire, police said.

The Suspect: He has been described as a 28-year-old African-American male, who was wounded in the arm during the gunbattle with officers. Police have not released his identity. Aerial TV footage showed him being handcuffed after the standoff ended and being escorted into an ambulance.

The Victim: Melyda “Mely” Corado was a manager at the store, said ABC7 and the victim’s brother, Albert Corado. She is believed to have been shot early during the incident and was taken out of the market by police officers.


So unidentified homie shoots his grandmother and another person in decidedly un-hipster South L.A., flees northbound for about 10 miles, cops hot on his tail.  He lands in Silver Lake where he unleashes his special brand of mayhem on a bunch of SWPL urbanistas doing their afternoon grocery shopping in an “open-minded” gentrified area of Los Angeles, not far from Dodger Stadium.

Welcome to the big city.





The unbearable and consuming annoyance of portable media displays.

At the risk of letting this devolve into yet another anti-(smart)(cell)-hone spiel, I want to focus on one of the most bothersome aspects of today’s smart phone culture.

(In preface, I’ve made it known, numerous times, that I disdain phones and all they are.  I refuse to invest in a smart phone, text plan, data plan, etc, because I simply have no urge to be connected to the world and its dreary 2-legged inhabitants, around the clock).



Here’s the thing: despite the fact I can control my own ownership (or lack thereof) and involvement in phone culture, I can’t control how other people live their lives.  That’s fine with me. I don’t allow myself to get too bothered by the consumerist habits of sheeple. I have (many) opinions, but I recognize they are just that, and there is no reason upsetting myself about said gluttonous human habits.


Yet…despite this, I have no control over one thing:  that incessant need people have to pull out their phone and show you the latest personal or public video/image file that is simply itching to entertain the public imagination from its Apple-fied, encased silicon confines.

I can be sitting there, minding my own serene business, and suddenly Subject A, fucknut, will walk up to me, imbecilic grin leering, and announce, “Hey, look at this photo I took of xxx.  Isn’t it hilarious”?

They then extend that damned phone and hold it 3 inches form my face and I must act amused as the most unfunny, unremarkable shit in the world beams back at me from that deathly little screen (even the most oversized, overpriced Apple shit is small). Worse is when they want to show you a raucous, grating video of last week’s {fill in the blank with some facile event of no significance whatsoever} and you have to sit there for like 45 seconds watching this shit you don’t give a flying fuck about.

And worse yet, it’s loud.  The sound on those phones is immense and I wish to pull out my eardrums, delicate-piece-by-delicate-piece, when confronted by such crap.

My work office mate got a clue a while back.

It must have been that abhorrent grimace on my face every time she thrust her phone in my face joyously, thinking videos of her fucking kids would matter to me.  She finally stopped doing that  to me.  But not everyone got the memo and I still encounter these mobile media shows of shit more often than I can tolerate.

I simply do not care to see or listen to the insignificant occurrences in other people’s lives all the time.    My own time is my own.  If I need entertainment, I’ll seek it out…don’t intrude into my personal sphere of sanctity to show me shit that doesn’t matter to me.



Dr. Mark Hausknecht’s murder in Houston…did he see inside the heart of darkness?

OK, you don’t have to be a damned seasoned investigator to smell a “hit” concerning this series of events.


Dr. Mark Hausknecht and the shooter were both riding bikes on South Main Street, near Texas Children’s Pavilion for Women, shortly before 9 a.m. local time, Executive Assistant Police Chief Troy Finner said at a news conference.

Hausknecht, 65, was biking north when he passed the shooter going in the other direction, Finner said. The shooter turned, fired two shots at Hausknecht and rode away on his bike, Finner said.

Hausknecht was taken to a hospital, where he was pronounced dead, Finner said.


Dr. Hausknecht, a cardiologist from Houston Methodist, was 65 when he was shot to death in Houston this morning, and owner of another distinction: he is the doctor who has treated former President George H.W. Bush during his dreary path of vascular ailments beginning with an irregular heartbeat in 2000.


Hausknecht and Bush 41 in 2000


The mysterious events of the murder are “intriguing” to say the least.

The killer approached the doctor face-to-face prior to contact, a manner of ascertaining absolute identification on the part of the killer. The killer continued past and then turned around and fired 2 deadly shots into the doctor’s back (to avoid screaming or other modes of panic which might divert a clean hit) and sped off on his bike.

Sounds much calmer and rehearsed than a spontaneous rage killing.

What did Dr. Hasknecht see, or hear?