Me, a grown-ass adult, living in a state where they advertise marijuana on billboards, as I spend 20 minutes with a paperclip getting increasingly dirty and furious: My, I sure do wish someone would invent a better pliable tool for use in cleaning smoking pipes!
”The following are examples of tales and popular concepts from Mormon folklore:
please reblog to spread awareness of mormon bigfoot
The Republican primary has got me excited enough that I’m checking enough Capital Hill “insider” periodicals - The Hill, Politico, National Journal - that it’s showing up in my cookies I guess.
Because I’m starting to get served ads, the kind of ads you see in meatspace on the DC subway. Ads for fighter jets. I was getting a bunch for the F-35, but now I’m starting to see ones that are clearly for an F(/A)-18 variant.
Which means there’s some appropriations fight on somewhere where maybe the white elephant F-35′s under threat and Boeing’s making Lockheed Martin at least work for it, good for them.
The Republican primary has got me excited enough that I’m checking enough Capital Hill “insider” periodicals - The Hill, Politico, National Journal - that it’s showing up in my cookies I guess.
Because I’m starting to get served ads, the kind of ads you see in meatspace on the DC subway. Ads for fighter jets. I was getting a bunch for the F-35, but now I’m starting to see ones that are clearly for an F(/A)-18 variant.
Which means there’s some appropriations fight on somewhere where maybe the white elephant F-35′s under threat and Boeing’s making Lockheed Martin at least work for it, good for them.
In college I dated a girl from New Jersey, she said one of her high school (boy?)friends’ dads had been involved in the arms industry, over their house once she saw a thick catalog, picked it up.
It was for the Africa trade, she remembered one ad for tanks the slogan was “They’ll Never See You Coming”
– Fedor Bronnikov ..+-+.. Consecration –
Okay here’s how I read this picture: homeboy in bright white is the guy who commissioned this thing, as part of his “oh shit I’m old and mortal better tend to my legacy” thing. He gets to do the ceremonial duties, pouring out oil for his dead homies, dudes actually pushing it up are his servants.
At the stump in red with the sacrificial lamb is homeboy’s eldest son, the surrounding figures are his family, blondie at the stump in pink is a younger son.
And look at what’s stiffly vertical in this composition, that’s interesting. The herm isn’t. The herm’s whole purpose is to be vertical as a sacred object, but it’s like “oh nope, just a human creation being humped around by some sweaty dudes”. You can see the rough foundation that’d normally be buried underground.
Dude with the spade - the spade’s vertical which is correct because the spade represents the artifice and the work here and the work is what is true. Dude’s leg is only slightly off and he kind of gets a pass as being the close-enough respectability of labor.
Homeboy in white - straight up. Look at his face, look at the sculptured herm. That’s the dude. This is his legacy - he’s old now and thinking about eternity and transcendence. He is taking this seriously, he’s fucking loving this.
In the background, the tower of the compound on the hill - oh hi there, hazed out, you’re the even more impressive site of human creation we’re only recreating in miniature. Herms along the path and in the woods, that one that gets red at the base almost halfway to modeling the trees, the trees that shoot up higher and spindlier reminding you that the human creations are only inferior imitations of natural form.
Grandson with the fruit bowl, young enough to take his role in this seriously.
(The donkey’s standing up straight, doing his job, but looks sarcastic. I think that’s the point of donkeys.)
And look who’s not standing up straight.
Red son at the stump is frustrated, cheek in his palm waiting for this to be over. (You saw statue face and white homeboy’s face? Look at red dude’s face, you see the resemblance. Balding. Unfortunate.)
He’s old enough to realize this is theatrics, but not old enough to be the honored elder. Dad’s having fun spending his inheritance on a roadside dick statue. Awesome. He’s there because he’s obligated.
(Pink bro, what the hell. He says nothing to me.)
Granddaughter in pink is straight-ish, but not ramrod like the two males in the center. Slumped shoulders, garland hanging by her side she’s just putting up with this. Teenage girls were the same in 1874, when this painting was made, the same in whenever the hell it was set.
Naked babe taking the proceedings in uncomprehendingly, wife in blue kneeling propping the babe up, inducting him into the ritual.
The laborers of course literally wearing rags, all too busy exerting themselves to be either solemn or resentful and… IS STRIPEYSHORTS MCMUSTACHE EYEING UP GRANDDAUGHTER?
I THINK HE IS
holy shit
This is an amazing tableau on the subject of religion: an honorably ridiculous process by which old men fool young boys into taking them seriously.
Chriiiiiist, how many Assassin’s Creed games have I started being all enthusiastic and then been like “ugh, right, the Abstergo frame story”.
There’s a Japanese saying, “赤信号皆で渡れば怖くない”. “If everyone crosses against the light, there’s nothing to fear.”People waiting to cross the road are like fairy penguins nervous to make the run from the water up the beach.
Keep looking at each other, stepping forward hesitantly then ducking back.
It’s like, there’s no safety in numbers! Car can squash all of you. Stop looking at each other and look at the fucking road.
I do this a lot. I think my brain has latched on to some mistaken analogy to the theory of nuclear deterrence. “Even if that driver is willing to run over me, he surely will not escalate to killing all ten of us.”
oligopsony-deactivated20160508:
the first time it happened to me, it wasn’t even the scariest
i had woken up, naked, in the woods, surrounded by Burzum CDs and beer posters featuring women in dirndls with the slogan FEMINISM = WHITE GENOCIDE sharpied on them. my whole body ached; i felt like i had been stretching my right arm for the whole night
as the day passed, and I shared the confusion of the town, things slowly started coming together. the rabbi was busy scrubbing the wall clean of some sort of hands-rubbing shylock cartoon. the woman across the street had received a letter beginning: Dear Hypergamous Slut,. A large billboard had been covered by a painting of what looked like a sad frog in a hitler outfit. all my avatars on social media had been replaced michelangelo’s David.
it had become clear: sometime last night, our village - our cozy, innocent little village - had been visited by a Traditionalist, a number of us victimized, including myself, kidnapped to the woods for who knows what purpose. and also, banksy had visited our town the same night, to emblazon our billboard with his impression of george bush.
when the next full moon came, and the next, the horrifying personal truth of things became inescapable. one night waking up in the woods, but two, three? the David avatars, but also all my default fonts changed to the version of wingdings that most look like norse runes? The Bell Curve on my bookshelf I had been able to dismiss as simply intellectual broad-mindedness; Men Among the Ruins and The Culture of Critique as some sort of twopenny attempt to play van helsing, research the creature, discover its weaknesses; but all the devil horns, mephistopholean beards, and elongated noses scribbled on the inside jacket of Negative Dialectics, Culture Industry, and (i thought most incongruously) Ideology and Utopia? when it was finally clear that children were in danger - that the elementary school had been flyered with messages that “the powerpuff girls teach boys to be cucks” and entreating them to check out instead fanfiction dot net slash celestia hyphen reveals hyphen the hyphen secrets hyphen of hyphen ariosop - i realized that my cavalcade of rationalizations had become irresponsible, and had to come face to face with the explanation that had been obvious all along
i am only a man - no, i am not only a man, but the part of me that remains a man is only that - and so i spent some time wallowing in soul-searching and self-pity. why me? had god chosen to punish me for some sin? had it been just a careless mistake - was it that time I had tried to argue with the man with 12,922 posts on the local news site, every one of them “anti racist is anti white?” but the moon waits for no man, and i knew i had to prepare. at first i tried the traditional remedies, garlic draped around the house, pictures of multiracial crowds or female executives or plus-size models on the inside of the doors, windows, any avenue of escape - but that only seemed to make the creature angrier. (nay, make me angrier; i must take full responsibility for this…) binding myself in silver chains seemed to somehow summon a whole spectral dungeon-menagerie of nazi cosplayer fetishists, nerds and bikers and english aristocrats who would go out on the town and wreak havoc themselves. i sought the help of a priest, whose exorcisal ministrations helped for a month, but afterwards i found the house stacked with printouts of sedevacant manifestos, and the creature (no, I) was thereafter immune. in the meantime the victims, and the interracial porn in the folder labelled FOR RESEARCH, stacked up.
in the end, i retreated to the woods, far away from any human habitation; the continuing rumors, and wolfsangles carved in to trees at the edge of my “territory,” sufficient to keep all but the stupidest teenagers safe from an encounter. even now the moon is rising, but knowing that it doesn’t mean i’m going to hurt anyone, it’s almost peaceful. it casts its silver light over the forests and hillocks, the haunting beauty of Nature, on display for only a soul like me, whose isolation lets him better appreciate it. i wonder if this is what ancient germanic tribes felt, as they roved over the continent, planting the seeds that would blossom into Evropa. in my loneliness i imagine - oh, for I am only a man, and Men have their Needs, which by feminine alchemy can be transformed into highest ideals - a young such woman of mine own people, herself a fiercer warrior than the beta males of today but yet no virago, her golden locks strewn with flowers - oh, how beautiful she would look in a field of wheat, my children tugging at the hem of her dress! how bright her pale skin in the ghostly light of the Moon! how vile the Cultural Marxists to so jewishly steal her away from this world, to throw me out all alone and drowning in filth! I am a Regnum Philosophorum and you
this buzzfeed article has two staff members that worked on it, six total words, over twice as many emojis, and a full youtube rip of the sandlot. this is the fucking end of click bait websites. this is the epitaph of hell. what the fuck is buzzfeed even doing anymore
In AC:Unity the Jacobins were dangerous fanatics taking the Revolution too far… but it turns out it had been a setup from the start, the leaders of the mob manufactured the food shortages that kicked it off because… capitalist democracy is an even more effective mechanism of total social control than feudalism.
(Meanwhile since at least 3 they’ve been playing up the “Templars are on to something when they say Assassin notions of ‘freedom’ and 'self-determination’ are just a cover on thrill-seekers making violent messes of things” angle)
And over in their other AAA open-world franchise, the last 2 Far Cry main series games were about how trying to fight evil and redress wrongs will just lead to bestial violence and self-degradation, how rebels are no better than their oppressors, that a movement fanatical or coldblooded enough to overthrow a tyrant will prove even worse, that nobility has its own charm after all and in combination with competence it’s an alternative worth giving a second look.
Ubisoft plots have been getting hella counterrevolutionary lately.
i’m laughing so hard at that AC karl marx screenshot holy fuck
like it’s not just funny cuz of the words it’s putting in marx’s mouth, but because they’re happening in a series of games where you are just straight up killing people constantly
assassin’s creed character just stabbing someone in the heart: i see what you mean. violence is not the answer
John Kasich would make sense as the nominee of a Christian Democratic party, on European lines. (If you know only one Christian Democratic politician, it’s Angela Merkel.)
But the Republican Party of America is not, and has never been a Christian Democratic party. It’s been within one realignment of such, I think Bush the Younger got elected intending to make it, but the attempt failed and it’s no longer even that close.
Guy’s running like the last ten years never happened. Shame, and when you consider how it implies he’s trying to live out a carefully planned rise-to-power fantasy conceived decades ago, verges on poignant.
Could be worse, Jim Webb was running like it was still fucking 1992.
4chan accidentally the discourse, didn’t it?
Administration of “ARAG-Versicherung” (1963-66) in Düsseldorf, Germany, by Paul Schneider-Esleben
