Thursday, April 25, 2024
Self-Love in the Age of Resource Depletion
As published at SubStack, 4/25/24:
[Chris Chan in 2008]
[Thaddeus McMichael with his “waifu,” Kotonoha]
This week, I got a message from a French buddy stuck in Cambodia. He’d rather be in Vietnam but, having overstayed his visa the last time, he’s not allowed in. Resource depletion means war:
I’m OK in Kampot, preparing popcorn for WW3. Fuck.
French Legion division headed for Odessa it seems.
War economy, war time media crackdown underway in Europe, and I’m sitting here urging a Cambodian Army colonel to push his country to join BRICS.
France is basically at war with Russia, I can’t believe it.
My family and I have had strong ties with Russia. My mother went to USSR twice and my brother learned Russian and studied one year in Moscow […]
Sucks. I wish peaceful coexistence was possible. Competition around remaining fossil energy reserves are the main obstacle.
The world has unfortunately entered a rat race for the remaining fossil fuels, while the West is feeping its population false narratives to stoke anti-Russian, anti-Arab and anti-Persian hatred. No wonder. They collectively have more than 80% of commercially available remaining fossil fuels.
US tight oil and gas production relies largely on subsidies, but this can’t last forever. Thus Biden’s freeze on new LNG export projects for the near future. Europe is poised to stand naked. Macron is playing all-in: no other possible way out.
It’s not just fossil fuels being depleted, but everything except population growth, so there isn’t enough land, minerals, ground water, top soil, trees, seafood and unspoiled vistas for spoiled and overweight useless eaters with redundant skills.
Yuval Noah Harari, “What will happen to the job market once artificial intelligence outperforms humans in most cognitive tasks? What will be the political impact of a massive new class of economically useless people? What will happen to relationships, families and pension funds when nanotechnology and regenerative medicine turn eighty into the new fifty?”
Science will only extend life for the elites. For the rest of us, millions in their prime are already gasping, hobbling or contorted like old men, if not dropping dead, due to “perfectly safe and effective” Jewjabs.
A brilliant people, Jews have so much to teach us morons. The Jewish state itself is a continual lesson. With deception and force, it’s a white backed genocide to serve Jewish aims. Much worse than the Belgians in the Congos or Germans in Namibia, non-Semitic Jews have been slaughtering Palestinians in full view for decades, as racist and cowardly whites cheer. Uncle Toms in the West have also joined in.
Vivek Ramaswamy, “I personally hope for a successful in-and-out operation, and would love nothing more than for the IDF to put the heads of the top 100 Hamas leaders on stakes and line them up on the Israel-Gaza border as a sign that October 7, 2023, will never happen again, and then use all of its saved resources to rebuild its border defenses for the future.”
More, “Now is the moment for Israel to return to its founding premise: the Jewish State has an absolute right to exist. A Divine gift, gifted to a Divine nation, charged with a Divine purpose. Israel has an absolute and unequivocal right and responsibility to defend itself to the fullest, applying the only language its adversaries understand: the language of force.”
Pussified Christians ignore coreligionists being spat on and beaten up by Jews where Jesus once tread. What do you expect from those who can only jerk off online pseudonymously as their homelands are wrecked by Jews? “I wouldn’t want to dox myself,” declares a quaking white nationalist! Meekly, they wait for the next “election” to “vote” for a Jewish sanctioned clown. Trump, Biden, Kennedy, Ramaswamy or Hillary belong to the same glee club as penile pianist Zelensky. It’s the same three chords over and over.
Demographics is destiny. Nationalism diluted or demonized leads to suicide. Jews know this well, but so do Vietnamese, Thais, Chinese, Russians, Serbs, Hungarians and every African tribe. In every field, men compete against each other. So do nations. Only the jejune or hypocritical deny this.
Stay clear of Jewish taboos and you’re freer than ever! Sick fantasies are fine, and fame has never been cheaper. Hairy priapic men with shotput balls for nuts can suddenly declare themselves Marilyn Monroes. Those who have a problem with that are trapped in a racist, sexist, transphobic and Fascistic past, with the older more likely to cling to an obsolete “normal.” If Jewjabbed and boostered, they’ll die soon anyway, so who cares?
Dead before the internet, Warhol famously said, “In the future, everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes.” And, “I’m a deeply superficial person.” We’re living that world, where appearance trumps reality. To be seen is all that matters.
“Fame” should be America’s new anthem:
Baby, look at me And tell me what you see You ain’t seen the best of me yet Give me time, I’ll make you forget the rest [...] I’m gonna live forever I’m gonna learn how to fly (High!) I feel it coming together People will see me and cry (Fame!) I’m gonna make it to heaven Light up the sky like a flame (Fame!)
Fame, then, is attaining heaven without dying. Michael Gore, née Goldstein, is right on!
As for the quintessential American, I’d like to nominate Christine Chandler. Though all you doddering farts may be unaware of this larger than life lady, Chandler has a vast Wikipedia-like website devoted to her. Moreover, she’s a collective creation of countless Americans. With astounding ingenuity, they have guided and prodded Chandler through all her emblematic transformations.
They had him sing, “I sexually identify as an attack helicopter” and “I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Qaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills!” Chandler’s an American hero non pareil.
To much hoopla, Bruce Jenner only came out as a transgendered woman in 2015, but Chandler was already in his mom’s bra and panties in 2008. Granted, Chandler had never won the decathlon or accomplished anything, but he would outdo Jenner spectacularly. With denial of reality America’s religion, Chandler thought he could grow a vagina just by thinking about it. When this didn’t happen quickly enough, Chandler slit his taint so his cunt could emerge. Only the bravest can be so bold. Caitlyn Jenner wouldn’t dare.
“Love is Love” must replace “In God We Trust” on dollar bills. Brave and candid, Chandler wrote in 2016, “Anyhow, who among Everyone in this world has not had a dream of having sex with one of their parents? Never acting on them ever, I, myself, Did have dreams of having sex with my mother.” No later than 2021, Chandler acted on this frank desire. His mother, Barbara, was 80-years-old. In 2020, Chandler had already labeled her Mother of the Year. His love for her is unequivocal and total.
Still responsive to the human touch, Chandler is already passé perhaps? Progress never stops. More cutting edge is Thaddeus McMichael:
The human would be a pain in the ass. She would get on my nerves and bleed every month from her pussy. Mai waifu does none of that, just 24/7 of loving and she’s soft as a pillow at night. I love sleeping with her. Can you say the same for your “real” women?
Self reliance has always been an American value, and nothing is more iconically American than the lone hero. After Buffalo Bill, Billy the Kid, the Lone Ranger, Clark Kent and Rambo, we can now celebrate Thaddeus McMichael.
Wednesday, April 24, 2024
Tuesday, April 23, 2024
2 1/2 Hours in Vung Tau on 4/22/24
As published at SubStack, 4/22/24:
[5:58AM in Vung Tau on 4/22/24]
[6:03AM in Vung Tau on 4/22/24]
[6:11AM in Vung Tau on 4/22/24]
[6:20AM in Vung Tau on 4/22/24]
[6:57AM in Vung Tau on 4/22/24]
[5:02AM in Vung Tau on 4/22/24]
4:31AM. I’m at that cheap café on Lý Thường Kiệt, about to drink an adulterated coffee for 31 cents. It’s likely to have as much soybean or corn as coffee beans, but for this price, I shouldn’t demand anything more than ground roasted Arabica, Ethiopian or Colombian rat droppings. When foreign friends visited recently, I took them to a similar dump, primarily to show them a lovely shelf shrine to Jesus. They couldn’t finish their black offering. Hipster run Enough is more to their taste. It costs ten times more. I’ve stayed clear of it the way I avoid trendy bars.
Across the street is Sài Gòn Mới, an optician. Again, Saigon is used all over Vietnam, even in Hanoi. On my Qatar Airways flight from Phnom Penh to Saigon two weeks ago, all inflight announcements referred to Saigon. I salute them for sensitivity to local usage. Only totalitarians demand sudden linguistic shifts, irrespective of history, heritage or popular preferences. Progressives, in particular, hate the working class and how they talk.
Since PC Americans don’t know or care about all these poems and songs about Saigon, some have given me shit about what I call my hometown. Tey can shove it up ter frontal or poop hole! I’m just not with it. I should identify as Lebron James. Tomorrow, I’ll be Taylor Swift.
In near darkness, a woman is washing vegetables, bought fresh from Cô Giang Market. Miss Giang committed suicide when her fiancé, Nguyễn Thái Học, was executed by the French in 1930. They led the failed Yên Bái Uprising. That she’s referred to as “Miss” betrays people’s affection. Across the street is a fine Colonial building with its steep roof, balustraded balcony and tall, louvered windows.
Is any of this interesting? Of course, not. Consider, though, this manifesto as spoken by a Henry James character, “I used often to stretch away for my daily ramble, with no companion but the stick in my hand or the book in my pocket. But in the use of my legs and the sense of unstinted open air, I have always found company enough. I should, perhaps, add that in the enjoyment of a very sharp pair of eyes, I found something of a social pleasure. My eyes and I were on excellent terms; they were indefatigable observers of all wayside incidents, and so long as they were amused I was contented. It is, indeed, owing to their inquisitive habits that I came into possession of this remarkable story.” With just legs, air and eyes, we’ll feast on stories.
Needing wifi, I’ve walked a block to the cafe on Uprising. The chubby seller of lottery tickets isn’t here. Often exuberant, she likes to make loud declarations. Talking about adultery last week, she said, “If I can’t even use my husband, why would I want to use anyone else’s?!”
Immediately, someone corrected her, “Since you can’t use your husband, you must use someone else’s.”
For cryptic or perverse reasons, this cafe’s owner doesn’t like me, so she certainly won’t use me.
Cafe or bar culture is about hearing and being heard. The beverages are secondary. Though this should be self-evident, I’ve had to defend my innate sociability to indignantly belligerent Americans. They can be triggered by anything. Consider this news story from 3/27/24, “A 79-year-old man was beaten in the bathroom of his own home after an intoxicated neighbor entered the wrong house, according to police in Texas.”
Since the drunk used his own housekey, he and his neighbor not only lived in cookie cutter homes, they had been issued identical keys. “I don’t play around,” Eric Collazo said when arrested. By that he meant breaking three of the old man’s ribs. Shouldn’t Collazo have recognized his nextdoor neighbor?
Done with Uprising, I weave through several alleys towards Cô Giang Market. At a noodle eatery on Nguyễn Văn Trỗi, I notice this T-shirt on a woman, “GOALIE Grandma.” Behind her is a fat schoolgirl with disheveled hair staring at a phone. Generations are being destroyed.
Passing a meat seller, I think of the young man who delivers pig carcasses before dawn. Shirtless, he merges with each dead body. With each cadaver carved in half, he doesn’t even get proper embraces.
At the corner of Tú Xương and Cô Bắc is Bitter Coffee. Glancing in, I don’t see a great grandma I love to talk with, so I move on. Cô Bắc is Cô Giang’s sister. Sentenced to five years of solitary confinement, she sneered, “Why don’t you people go back to France and tear down Joan d’Arc statues!” A single bon mot uttered at the perfect moment will sort of immortalize you. Nothing human is.
I’m at my third cafe at 6:10AM. At the next table is a schoolgirl with black rimmed glasses eating a pseudo baguette with condensed milk. Her dad is watching highlights of Manchester City vs. Chelsea. Twenty five years ago, Vietnamese would stare at week-old NBA games just for glimpses of the outside world. Now, they’re titilated each second, so of course, most would sign up to be an eternal janitor in Utqiagvik, Alaska. That skeletal seller of lottery tickets now appears for her iced tea before roaming streets that will quickly heat up.
Paying for her drink, she grasps her lottery tickets with her toes, which makes me think of this fragment by Lafcadio Hearn, “The foot of the halfbreed, never deformed by shoes, retains prehensile power, — grasps like a hand.” Blacks are closer to monkeys, in short, but you must step back to admire his greater humanity. Twain wrote “Noble Red Man,” and Dickens “The Noble Savage.”
Bicycling by, all schoolkids wear a grim face, for they must endure another day of indoctrination. As a child, I couldn’t wait to grow up, but school wasn’t my only problem.
With Cóc Cóc about to open, I trek back that way. On Ba Cu, there’s a man sunning a newborn. It’s just another incomprehensible act to outsiders. When vitamin D was most needed during the Covid scare, they demanded we stay inside, but what do you expect from those who violently insisted on Jewjabs?
In Osaka 5 1/2 years ago, I showed during a lecture at least a dozen photos taken in Philly in just one day. Its wretchedness is everywhere evident, even to tourists who pay the least attention. The same is true of San Francisco, Los Angeles, Seattle, Chicago, Denver and New Orleans, etc., all fabled American cities.
Even at their most squalid, Southeast Asian slums and alleys are still communities where smiles and laughter aren’t rare. Almost never will you find anyone cut off from everyone, as is common in the USA.
As for foreigners here, almost none can penetrate the language or society. Even if they were interested, it would take too much effort. Many, if not most, are merely sexpats hanging out in expat bars. With vehemence, they will insist that Thais, Vietnamese, Cambodians and Filipinos are mostly whores, pimps and hustlers. Whatever, man. People believe what they want to.
In Tirana, I must have spent a hundred mornings in Lami’s. Though I understood no overheard conversations, just lines from Italian songs, I was always delighted to be among people. When I referred to them as “my kind,” an Unzian moron got enraged. Constantly stoked yet castrated by Jews, it’s all they can do.
Excess Deaths in Japan Hit 115,000 Following 3rd COVID Shot; New Study Explains Why
Based on the number of excess deaths in 2022, the Japanese scientists concluded: “Statistically significant increases in age-adjusted mortality rates of all cancer and some specific types of cancer, namely, ovarian cancer, leukemia, prostate, lip/oral/pharyngeal, pancreatic, and breast cancers, were observed in 2022 after two-thirds of the Japanese population had received the third or later dose of SARS-CoV-2 mRNA-LNP vaccine.”
“These particularly marked increases in mortality rates of these ERα-sensitive cancers may be attributable to several mechanisms of the mRNA-LNP vaccination rather than COVID-19 infection itself or reduced cancer care due to the lockdown,” the authors wrote.
In plain English, this study revealed the mRNA COVID jab is likely the cause of the extra deaths that occurred in Japan.
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