Channel 34 Univision reporter accuses man of being a “ressis” and gets owned.

More cringe-worthy refuse from those who purport to be “my” people and march empty-headed into the regurgitated sphere of irrelevant talking points, meandering non sequiturs and brainless leaps of logic.

Between her horrendous, stereotypical accent and grammar and embarrassing debate style, this reporter made quite a showing for herself. I have no idea the context, but this appears to be (I’m assuming) Los Angeles and the network is Univision’s local outlet, Channel 34. The subject at hand is an interview of two anti-illegal immigration protesters, one who appears to have been hurt.

Ah! More fodder to make most Mexican-Americans appear to be ignorant illegal immigration apologists whose only rebuttal to any person who argues against illegal immigration must involve a nonsensical string of Spanglish inanities and trite accusations.

Posted in L5

Why do you hate people so, I argued with myself. Mmm…this? I answered.

Because we are one teeming, obnoxious race of lemmings, diving into (or getting splashed by) the water like biologically robotic rodents.

Final sentence in bold for irony.

The death of an 18-year-old Scottish man in a flooded quarry is being linked to the “ice bucket challenge.”

Cameron Lancaster, of Burntisland, Fife, died Sunday. Emergency services — Police Scotland, the Scottish Fire and Rescue Service, and the Scottish Ambulance Service — were called to Preston Hill Quarry near Inverkeithing after he disappeared at around 5 p.m. His body was recovered at around 9 p.m. after four hours underwater.

In a statement, Lancaster’s family said: “Cameron died in a tragic accident. His death is such a great loss. During his short life, he touched so many people with his friendliness, kindness and thoughtful generosity of spirit. He will be hugely missed by his family and friends. The family are finding it hard to come to terms with this sudden loss and would ask for privacy.”

Although the exact circumstances of Lancaster’s death are yet to be established, locals say youths have been “tomb-stoning” into the quarry in a new take on the “ice bucket challenge,” which has gone viral recently. Usually participants are drenched in freezing buckets of water for charity.

Local councillor Alice McGarry said: “There are rumors and speculation that this tragedy is linked to the ice bucket challenge. Some children have been jumping off the cliffs at the quarry. They have always done that, but it seems there has been a recent increase because of this challenge. There is no confirmation at this stage, but that is what we think has happened. I saw a video of another boy jumping from one of the edges last week so this could be related.”

Wilma Sutherland, 41, told The Independent: “I asked my son who’s 15 if he had heard anything, and he told me that a young guy had taken part in the ice bucket challenge and then jumped in the quarry and didn’t come up. It’s a popular spot for swimming, and I’ve seen lots of teenagers jumping in.”

A police spokesman said: “Inquiries are under way to establish the full circumstances of what happened, and Police Scotland’s thoughts are with the family.”

The ice bucket challenge started as a way to raise money for motor neuron disease. Thousands of people including celebrities such as Victoria Beckham, President George W. Bush, and many others, though critics have claimed most participants simply want to take part without donating money.

Ironically the co-founder of the ALS ice bucket challenge, Corey Griffin, drowned following a diving accident on Aug. 16.

Posted in L2

Suge Knight is still alive?

Suge Knight apparently is the latest victim in a long series of life imitates art hip hop instances of unrestrained Hennessy-laden thuggery and violence.

Funny thing, when I first saw this, I assumed it was an old story because I thought he had been killed once, ages ago, but it’s probably another Black music industry gangster, but I guess Suge Knight has been alive and kicking all these years!

Aren’t all these rappers dead? I thought so.

These people are living proof that wealth does not buy humanity; it only reinforces its absence.

Posted in L1

Glimpses of flesh, the most sensual music video ever.

This 3-year-old video from Montreal psych-rockers, Suuns, featuring their single, Pie IX, is the hottest, most sexy music video ever. The actress, nude, porcelain, glimpsed through dancing layers of lit/darkened alternations of teasing and unfulfilled carnal temptation is much hotter than any flagrant, in your face, twerking, big-ass ghetto mama rapping out tired recitations of urban bling fixations.

Posted in L2

The Great Icy Tit Challenge! In search of a noble cause.

I’m constitutionally unable to appreciate this Ice Bucket Challenge stupidity.

It’s not that I don’t care about ALS or Lou Gehrig or whatever bullshit this social circus is about. Of course it’s great that people raise money for disease research as they see fit. But for heaven’s sake, man, just write a check and spare me the dense theatrics. How many morons must I see waiting apprehensively in plastic chairs just before a bucket of ice water is poured over their head. I’m sick of it. I can’t relate to the way people comport themselves in order to boast proudly and conspicuously that they are taking steps to improve the state of the human race! It’s a fool’s show! Hear my altruistic roar across the throbbing egotistical pulses of Facebook and Youtube!

It’s the Ice Bucket Challenge; I challenge you to do something meaningless just to prove you are giving money away.


So anyway, I heard that the hot, cocksucking-lips slut, Taylor Swift, succumbed to the Challenge idiocy. The thought of Taylor drenched in ice cold water sorta stirred by loins, I gotta say.

Taylor ice

Oh yeah. Too bad the photo sucks.

Now then. Unfortunately, tragically even, something else came along which put the figurative ice water all over my horny embers. Goodbye Taylor, hello Lena!

Lena ice

Oh god. For all forces of fleshy good, there are evil counterforces waiting to assault your gentle eyes behind the protrusion of distended swimwear and legions of alabaster cellulite.

But alas, I saw another ice bucket challenge female participant in my “personal realm” and it occurred to me that this tedious collective adventure of do-goody-ism might actually be channeled into a productive, and if nothing else, visually pleasing, spin-off from the Ice Bucket Challenge. I shall call it the Great Icy Tit Challenge.

I shall gather the most pleasing photos of women raising money to fight paralysis and catalog them for another charity: male depravity.

Let the fun begin!

ice challenge


There is this from a Youtube video.

icy whoops

And this. Unfortunately, it appears some women have foreseen the inadvertent arousal their wet body may provide to ogres like me, so they flatten that shit out with a chastity (sports) bra. :(

ice challenge more

Meh. Not all tits are created equal, but still, can’t go wrong with a wet female body splashing around…

icy pink

Posted in L5

Millions of people don’t care: the death of our economic models.

This video is…rad. Dude.

This is my glib response to The End Of Everything As We Know It.

Technology, and its voracious beneficiary, automation, will make human involvement obsolete. The writing is so clearly splashed across the wall. Who can deny this? Even my mother, who has been somewhat resistant to the notion of a technological displacement of humans, is coming around thanks to my persistent badgering and citations in the news.

“Automation” is a trend that stretches back thousands of years but which is exponentially accelerating now. It is not unimaginable that in 25 or 50 years the human workforce will have shrunk 25% or more.

This is a human condition: the human condition of laziness and sloth and gullibility at the novel. A condition of conformity and herd thinking. Humans will render themselves obsolete simply because they are helpless to think or doubt the onward rush of passive reality.

What will happen to society?

I see two outcomes, neither of which are mutually exclusive.

1) We will slowly succumb to a bland world of homogeneity and lack of differentiation. We will ascend in a blurry, nondescript crescendo of monochromatic monotony. I credit the novel The Giver with having the fantastic foresight to envision such a world of inhuman sterility. A world in which nothing is extraordinary or terrible. We will forsake the joyous in order to achieve a middling equilibrium absent the terrible. At the 2:50 mark in the video, the narrator tells us something that embodies this human urgency to live an orderly world of soulless recursion: “Or take the hundreds of thousands of baristas employed worldwide. There’s a barista robot coming for them. Sure, maybe your guy makes the double mocha whatever just perfect and you’d never trust anyone else, but, millions of people don’t care!” Human obsolescence will also spell the end of excellence and taste and hierarchical differentiation.

2) The second outcome is more nebulous and something I’ve batted around personally for a while. It’s of such abstruse origins that I have difficulty articulating it because in fact, it is so alien to our current paradigm that it eludes comprehension. I believe automation will, of course, render most jobs obsolete and the result will be ensuing generations of people with nothing but time on their hands and an industrial base that gets richer and more efficient but must face a rapidly shrinking customer base (because no one can afford anything!) Consequently, the familiar paradigm of supply and demand and its ideological offshoots of capitalism, socialism, communism, etc, will become obsolete themselves. With the supply and demand framework slowly vanishing, the evolved human duality of give and need will be meaningless as well. Once again, human evolution will face a bend in the road where the past does not benefit the needs of the present. The winner/loser dichotomy, alpha/beta, master/slave, consumer/supplier…all these established polarities will shift and disappear. We will map a new way to survive and enable a survival paradigm in our new society, because ultimately, human social evolution is genius and astronomically adaptable. It will find ways we can’t imagine now as we are mired in the 1-dimensional palate of zero sum complementary human nature and invention.

Posted in L5

The elusiveness of our own hell…what the man in the tree told me



First of all, I don’t go to the gym. Fuck that. I don’t need that meat market mentality applied to an activity that should entirely be propelled from within your head and accompanied by no one but your own diligent psyche. The concept of going to a gym in order to flirt or bullshit with your friends is the most distasteful thing in the world. Women who put make-up on before the gym and men who go to the gym for 15 minutes before a date should all be hung by their feet.

Pure exercise is a solitary activity. You narrow your zone, slip into that unflappable Zen disconnect and if done correctly, your environment recedes to a mute point.

My exercise of choice is weight-lifting. This takes place in the dining room in my apartment. I have a bench and squat rack sitting there on the carpet where a happy family table would traditionally sit. Sorry, that’s just how I “roll.” (Excuse that annoying excursion into uncharacteristic urbanese).

So tonight, I rested about a half hour after getting home and then I hit the iron while I listened to music, which is my customary routine.

Squats, bench presses, normal.

Rows are my third and last lift, and they require that I stand, and as I do, I face out my rear patio door at a line of Evergreen trees that separates my apartment from the building next door. In this Zen moment (rows are hard for me, and my left middle finger is injured requiring that my concentration and focus were especially acute tonight), I happened to glaze at a section of the trees before me, and in this state of undifferentiated comprehension, I saw him.


The man danced in the tree, prodded by the evening breeze. He was made of leaves and branches and shades of green, but he was unmistakable, swaying with the wind, ebbing and flowing, his chin, his legs, riding the breezy storm ensconced in the tree’s plumage.

The man in the tree was my own private hell.

My purgatorial descent. I wouldn’t expect that others could see him, or that I could have seen him at any other time than tonight, here, as I paced methodically through my trying weight routine. Focus lent me a glimpse of the man, of my hell.

And I thought of our hell, the hell we live in, that we experience, and which others can never know.

Our own private hell, imbued within the featureless landscape of our meandering life, the hell that suddenly becomes visible and oppressive and which one cannot turn from.

Who can ever know our hell, and how can we ever know another’s?

Just fix your gaze on the trees and you may see…

Posted in L3

DigInTheCrates, the internet denizen who predicted Robin Williams’ death, or maybe just a case of dumb “luck”

In a fit of premonitory fabulousness over at IGN’s “The Vestibule” forum, a user ironically named DigInTheCrates posted something regarding Robin Williams’ death…on Friday, three days before the popular comedian killed himself (asphyxiation) in his Northern California home!

Here is a screenshot in all its final horrible purgatorial pixelation.

Robin pred

(Original post)

The first user to remember this post and comment on it in the wake of today’s breaking news of Williams’ death was someone with the handle of mafia194 who apprehensively asked “What kind of sorcery is this?”


A series (more like a tidal wave) of follow up comments ranged from the humorous (who will die next?), to the scientific (he did suffer from alcohol and drug abuse and besides, the internet is a big place, someone is bound to make random predictions that will come true), to the explosive (ok, someone report the OP to the FBI now).

Personally, I think mafia194 did it. He was on the keyboard immediately…someone check his IP address!

Or maybe, Robin Williams read this and decided to turn a dream into a reality.

Or maybe DigInTheCrates just won a really meaningless lottery.

Posted in L2

Beware the DARK NEGRO!

What a breath of fresh air.

I’m rather sick of news reports glossing over suspects ethnicity. A typical news report in Los Angeles concerning this matter would simply state “adult male suspect” or some ridiculous generalized amorphous unhelpful description.

And of course, the hoopla necessitates the obligatory “diversity training” to be offered by the Lockport PD, a modern phenomena that appears to be the cosmetic band-aid to cure all racial troubles.

I need to design my own Diversity course and sell it to organizations and individuals who find themselves in ethnic hot water, a not too difficult task in today’s sensitive climate. That will be my pathway to financial freedom!

Posted in L1

A public roach Moment in Time

August 7, 2014, approximately 0730, Pershing Square Red Line Station, Los Angeles

usually I sit on the empty marble cheap rendition benches that are large and rectangular and lacking backing or armrests act as squat
strange couches that lazy
commuters can rest their filthy, rush-houred souls upon as they await the next train darting in like pavlovian commuter

But this morning instead
no sitting
on the large squat communal

train-riding cattle house waiting area no,

today i stand next to the rails under the escalator, a railed area fence off by rails and though not exactly insurmountable,

tell Law-abiding people “do not enter” that is

today, leaning over

some faint traces of piss cause people do pass this honor system barricade to urinate and perform other bodily duties of significant distaste

leaning over, standing, not sitting
i spy
a trespasser, one who broke the honor code

a little fellow, he darted form behind a stout column that hid dark crusty murkiness,maybe scat maybe just years of accumulated downtown grime and human dander scum, out her

a Little roach fellow, sad looking 6-legged fellow,

cause the roaches that have used my pad as a waypoint look healthier, fulsome, bloated, fed, thriving, symmetrically large in that awful monstrous cockroach foul way, but not
this little critter

in Pershing Square!
he is small
his antenna seem like randomly disassociated tentacles, like a pair of cockeyed feelers out upon
the world

this cockroach, though wide, is thin, emaciated, nothing like
those in my apartment

his antenna unsteered

he walked high on upraised legs unlike
most roaches which squat, this one
walked on little spindly
legs tiptoed
and he started

walking toward me
and as he neared i scooted
but as if I was a roach magnet he turned his little insect steering wheel and headed for my new direction
i moved again, and yet
he changed direction to approach me

fuck this!!

i walked away and he continued straight away from me,

toward a another post on the platform.

and why do they do this, those roaches why
it’s like they are asking for a human connection for help behind those non-vocal insect chords that prohibit speech from within that carcass of an exoskeleton why do they pursue us it’s
as if roaches are reincarnated human filth paying the dues
for a
horrific life spent
like maybe ann coulter, she is doomed to roachdom
and she will
follow you too seeking communion with her former

the roach wandered away into the darkness
and the train came to whoosh me away to my futile destination to my
roach kingdom
two-legged roaches

our antenna, constantly quivering, shaking, disharmonizing, we wander
like regurgitated iotas of previous humanity

puking up roles and expectations that drive us toward…


Posted in L7