Jaysus

3 Charged in PC Magazine Editor’s Death

PITTSBURG, Calif. (AP) – Three men have been charged with murdering a senior editor for PC World magazine in what police said was an attempt to steal marijuana that the victim’s son grew in their home for medical use.

Rex Farrance, 59, the San Francisco-based magazine’s senior technical editor, was shot in the chest on Jan. 9 after masked men broke into his suburban home.

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Did you just read this post? Now click here.

Enough!

The pupil bloodied and battered beyond recognition by teenage girls

Our President Admits He Is A War Criminal

OK, this is so damned important that it calls for me to embed a YouTube video in this blog for the fourth time.

Watch this, dammit!

And I repeat the first YouTube vid I’ve ever embedded, Paddy Chayefsky calling you to action:

Yeah, That’s It. Cue The Vigilantes!

Police tell woman who had bag snatched ‘sorry, that’s not a crime’

I’m not going to quote this at all. You have to go read it and get the full jaw-dropping effect.

Remember: Things originate in England. Then spread to over here.

Even On The Internet You Make Me Want To Bleed To Death

This is a big deal on reddit:

Honda was getting 47mpg — THIRTY YEARS AGO [classic ad photo]

Oh for fuck’s sake. Are you all fucking teenyboppers out there?

Yes, it did, goddammit. I knew it back then because I was alive back then. And that was the car I wanted to buy back then.

Why the fuck do you think I’m pissed all the fucking time? Because by now we should have had gas mileage in the triple-fucking digits.

Or better: those Islamic madmen in their oil-bearing countries would be merrily killing themselves in their impoverished lands because the West would have dropped its need for oil at least twenty years ago.

And you have the fucking temerity to think I’m a crank because I want to see certain Suits flapping at the end of ropes from lampposts.

Who the fuck do you think got us into this shit? Martians?!!?

Previously in this blog:
You Make Me Want To Bleed To Death

Die In Prison, You Piece Of Shit

Spammer gets 30 years in the slammer

Notorious spammer Christopher “Rizler” Smith was sentenced to 30 years in prison by a federal judge on Wednesday.

US District Judge Michael Davis called Smith a “drug kingpin” before throwing the book at him. Smith was convicted on charges of conspiracy, illegal distribution of drugs, money laundering and operating a continuing criminal enterprise.

Don’t feel sorry for this fuck:

Under the spam companies Burnsville Internet and Xpress Pharmacy Direct, Smith allegedly sent more than one billion emails through America Online. The FBI claims he made approximately $18m during his final year as a penis pill pusher. Federal authorities raided Xpress Pharmacy and Smith’s home, seized $4.2m in assets, including a $1.1m house and 17 luxury vehicles worth $1.8m.

And all his customers? I hope their dicks fall off.

NOW Do You Finally Understand Why I Must Have A License To Kill?

Teen Girls Accused Of Setting Kitten Ablaze

Fuck rehabilitation.

Fuck therapy.

Fuck incarceration.

And fuck you who believe in them.

Bitches die. Period.

They do not get to live on my earth.

Another Egghead Out To Fuck Writers (And Other Creators) Out Of Their Just Rewards

Researcher: Optimal copyright term is 14 years

Pollock’s work is based on the promise that the optimal level of copyright drops as the costs of producing creative work go down. As it has grown simpler to print books, record music, and edit films using new digital tools, the production and reproduction costs for creative work in have dropped substantially, but actual copyright law has only increased.

You overeducated stupid fuck! Have you never read any biography of any writer?

How fucking dare you equate the means of mass production — a machine function! — with the human energy and creativity and drive and persistence and sheer naked belief it takes to persevere during the act of creation?

I read somewhere that someone once said that in order to make one’s living in any field of creative endeavor one had to be almost psychotic. You have to believe in yourself so strongly, to sit there day after day with your computer or your pen or your piece of paper or guitar, and think “I can do this. 999 billion people before me have failed, but I can do this.” It’s quite a psychotic state of mind to have to hang onto year after year. It takes years. Nobody does it overnight.
— Nicole Griffith; interview printed in the eBook, The Reality Break Interviews: Volume #0 by Dave Slusher

And you, you fawning little shit sucking up to the Overgarchy so you can aid and abet in their looting of the rest of us, you want to dismiss the blood, the sweat, the tears, and the terrors true artists go through as they struggle to develop their style, as they seek out their audience that is scattered among nations and even across years and generations, as they wait wait wait for some fucking collection of tasteless and brainless Suits called a Publisher to mistakenly hire that one person who has the ability and taste and brains to recognize the artist’s talent and who is passionate and eager to share it with a busy and otherwise distracted world?

You would equate the seconds it takes to rip a song from a CD into an MP3 file with all the creative work it took to bring that song into existence?

You stupid, stupid, stupid fuck!

It took Ayn Rand — the Bitch Goddess of the Overgarchy — seven years to write The Fountainhead. It took her over ten years to write Atlas Shrugged. And yet you would have had her works go into the public domain during her lifetime?

John Fante — a writer you’ve probably never ever heard of — went out of print during his lifetime. It took the fame of Charles Bukowski — a fellow writer who had been inspired by Fante! — to get Fante’s prior works back in print. But according to you, you talentless motherfucker with a mechanical calculator in place of a human soul, whatever had once been under Copyright after fourteen years would have been fair game for the looters of the Overgarchy to confiscate and to freely use to pay their rent and to fill their bellies while the creator starved on the street! Further, you would have denied Fante’s wife — and eventual widow — her share of the royalties from her husband’s works! She stuck by him through all the hell, believing him to be the great writer it took decades for other people to finally discover (mainly because other fuckheads like you put him out of print for decades — why don’t you conjure an algorithm for what that cost Fante?). To you, such human devotion has no monetary value — which is apparently the only value that matters to your disgusting breed. You bastard.

Philip K. Dick — a writer you might have dimly heard of due to the atrocious movie bastardizations of his works — had to eat horsemeat bought from a pet store to survive early in his career. And once his career began, he had to overclock his brain with drugs to produce enough words to stay off the street. And just before his Hollywood adaptations came out, shortly before his overheated mind finally burned out in a fatal stroke, he had to apply for Food Stamps to feed himself! Yet you, you goddammed son of a slut bitch who should have used a coathanger in her cunt to spare us your birth!, you would have turned Dick’s life into an endless treadmill of poverty as he watched his early works turned over to any tasteless bastard who had the capital to buy a printing press and reprint them without Dick gaining any profit!

Recently an unfortunate man was brought before our courts whose forehead was marked by a rare and strange tattoo: No luck! He bore thus above his eyes the label of his life, like a book its title, and the cross-examination proved that this bizarre inscription was cruelly true. In literary history there are analogous destinies, real damnations — men who bear the words bad luck written in mysterious characters in the sinuous folds of their foreheads. The blind angel of expiation has seized them and whips them with all its might for the edification of others. In vain their lives show talents, virtues, grace; society has a special curse for them, and accuses them of weaknesses that its persecution has engendered. –What did not Hoffmann do to disarm destiny, and what did not Balzac undertake to conjure fortune? –Does there then exist a diabolical Providence which prepares misfortune from the cradle — who, with premeditation throws spiritual and angelic natures into hostile surroundings like martyrs into the circus? Are there then consecrated souls, destined for the altar, condemned to march to death and glory through their own ruins? Will the nightmare of Darkness besiege these rare souls eternally? In vain they struggle, in vain they adapt themselves to the world, to its calculations and tricks; they may perfect prudence, block all exits, pad the windows against the missiles of chance; but the Devil will enter through a key-hole; perfection will be the flaw in their armor, and superlative excellence the germ of their damnation.

The eagle, in order to shatter [their hope],
from the sky’s heights,
On their bare heads, will drop a tortoise,
For they are inevitably destined to perish.

[Theophile Gautier — Tenebres.]

Their destiny is written in their whole being, it shines with a sinister luster in their eyes and in their gestures, it circulates in their arteries with each drop of blood.

— Fatal Destinies: The Edgar Poe Essays by Charles Baudelaire, translated by Joan Fiedler Mele, © Copyright 1981. Cross Country Press, pgs. 44-45

And what about Lafcadio Hearn? Ever heard of him, egghead?

[…] If father had lived until I had become a man, I might have been able to look after my parents. In order to accomplish his aim, father had always said that it was not good to bring up children in Japan. But to send three sons abroad and to leave a property for his wife and daughter was a great problem to a man who had no other source of income than a teacher’s salary, royalties from books, and payments for his writings. I have repeatedly heard father’s cry, “Money!” “Money!” “Money!”—which seemed pitiable. “I don’t want money for myself,” he would say. “I only want it for my wife and children.” He always said these things in a touching voice. I can even recall that voice now; it has been stamped upon my ear. Whenever I used to hear father utter these words, in my childish heart I had a premonition that he had not long to live and it used to make me feel sad.
— Father and I: Memories of Lafcadio Hearn by Kazuo Koizumi, © Copyright 1935; pgs. 11-12

How about Nerval?

Unfortunately the money he was expecting to receive at Naples did not arrive and with empty pockets he had no choice but to return to Marseilles, where he settled himself in a hotel to live on credit until the money should come through. But on 4 November [1834] he was still waiting and he wrote to his friend, ‘If all else fails … if Paris has been burned in an earthquake or the Bank has been blown up, or Mignotte has committed suicide; you yourself Jehan Duseigneur [his friend] crushed like Don Juan by your own statues, if there is no more money in the world, if there are no more notaries, no more stock-brokers, no more bankers (which I should like but can scarcely hope for), let me know in a letter addressed to Marseilles.’ A week later he wrote to his friends, ‘I hardly dare walk because my boots are splitting … But I have dined well all the time: imagine, I have eaten nothing but macaroni and fruit for a fortnight.’ Eventually the money arrived, and he was able to move on to Agen […]
— The Disinherited: The Life of Gerard de Nerval by Benn Sowerby, © Copyright New York University 1974, NYU Press; pg. 35

How many times have you had split boots? How many times have you missed a meal? How many times have you had to live in fear of a landlord’s knock on your door? How much humiliation have you had to suffer from other people as you stood alone backed solely by your own judgment and belief in your own talent?

Bastards like you should have absolutely no say in Copyright law. None! Copyright is meant to protect the rights of creators. Only we have the right to speak about it. Only we can speak about it.

It’s time you fucks started to listen, too!

Why Move Somewhere Else And Take Along Your Cultural Shit?

Head-to-toe Muslim veils test tolerance of secular Britain

LONDON: Increasingly, Muslim women in Britain take their children to school and run errands covered head to toe in flowing black gowns that allow only a slit for their eyes.

Like little else, their appearance has unnerved Britons, testing the limits of tolerance in this stridently secular nation. Many veiled women say they are targets of abuse. At the same time, efforts are growing to place legal curbs on the full Muslim veil, known as the niqab.

The past year has seen numerous examples: A lawyer dressed in a niqab was told by an immigration judge that she could not represent a client because, he said, he could not hear her. A teacher wearing a niqab was told by a provincial school to go home. A student who was barred from wearing a niqab took her case to the courts, and lost. In fact, the British education authorities are proposing a ban on the niqab in schools altogether.

David Sexton, a columnist for The Evening Standard, wrote recently that Britain has been “too deferential” toward the veil. “I find such garb, in the context of a London street, first ridiculous and then directly offensive,” he said.

Isn’t the whole point of moving elsewhere to escape where you are from? To have a new way of life?

Too often, tolerance is a veil for evil. It’s a disarming of the native populace and a degradation of the native culture by those who claim to be so sennnnsitive to the feelings of others.

Too bad for the others.

Start being sennnnsitive to your fellow citizens first.

If you want to come to America, you adopt American ways.

If you don’t like American ways, don’t come here. And if you’re already here, leave.

Period.

We have enough natives who want to change things in America. We don’t need other people coming here to insult us. Especially when your country of origination is just about on the level of an open cesspool or stuck back in some Age of Superstition.

I’ve seen Muslim women wearing those head-to-toe veils in America. It disgusts me. That kind of garb was never part of this nation’s culture. It in fact represents everything this nation was established to escape. America was meant to be a nation for the future.

I’ll never tolerate others coming here to impose their past on us.

Shove your Politcal Correctness. Shove your Multiculturalism.

It’s time to start asserting the right of Cultural Compatibility.

England, get some brains and guts. Kick them out!

Previously in this blog:
They Fuck Up A Logo, Give Their Country To Muslims, And Now Drive Redheads Mad!
The Brits Can’t Do Logos Nor Can They Even Keep Their Nation!
It’s A Broken Swastika!
The Fall Of London Design
Kick. Them. Out. NOW!
And If It Happens…
What’s That Wonderful Scent In The Air? Oh, Frankness! They’ll Hang Him Now.
As Usual, They Get The Future All Wrong
There Is A Righteous Rage (Global Edition)
Pillory Of The Community
Were They High When They Wrote This Shit?
There Is A Righteous Rage
The Homo Fag Queer We All Owe

More Police Abuse Of Power

Man Faces 7 Year Sentence Under “Wiretapping Law” For Filming Police
OK for police and government to film and wiretap US citizens though

A man has been charged in Carlisle, Pennsylvania with filming police officers during a routine traffic stop and faces up to seven years in prison for “wiretapping”.

Brian D. Kelly is charged under a state law that bars the intentional interception or recording of anyone’s oral conversation without their consent, reports the Patriot News.

The criminal case relates to the sound, not the pictures, that his camera picked up.

His camera and film were seized by police during the May 24 stop, he said, and he spent 26 hours in Cumberland County Prison until his mother posted her house as security for his $2,500 bail. Police also took film from his pockets that wasn’t related to the traffic stop, he said.

Kelly, just 18 years old, is obviously extremely scared and has apologized profusely for not knowing the law. He has sought the help of the ACLU in the case.

Who the hell are the police supposed to serve? Themselves or us?

I’d fire the police who made the arrest and fire all of those in the current apparatus who think this should be prosecuted.

This is an outrage.

What’s next? Being arrested for videotaping the public appearances of that pack of whores who are running for the 2008 Presidency? Being arrested for videotaping them while they’re off-stage and make a comment they don’t want exposed? (Do you remember that prune-face who appeared in that near-pedophilic Pepsi TV ad, Bob Dole, telling a voter to “Go crawl back under your rock” when the guy dared to complain to him about taxes? Could that be considered “wiretapping” in the future?)

Previously in the blog:
Abuse Of Power Still Lives In New York City