Friday, November 29, 2019

Feminism spoiled natures great con - by Taylor Caldwell

When she went to the "powder room" I said to my sophisticated, progressive, and with-it young pal: "Are you going to marry Sally soon?" He looked absolutely shocked! Suddenly the primitive man was there and not a "modern" man in a dinner jacket and black tie, in a Key Club with bunnies running around and the smell of winey cooking in the air. He was aghast.

He said "Excuse me, but you can't be serious, can you? Sally's all right. But, after all, she is a modern girl -- she likes a romp as well as I do. No inhibition." He paused. Then he said, "Playmates for play-time. But only maidens for marriage!" And he laughed.

When I still stared at him cynically, he got a little mad. "Let's face it," he said. "The liberated girls have made their own public bed, and they can lie in it, and we men love it. but if they think we are going to marry them, they're due for an awakening. No man wants a woman who's been out on the town with every Tom, Dick, and Harry. When we marry, we don't want a 'modern' woman." He laughed again. "Oh, we encourage the women to be 'liberated'! It's cheap for us, and we get all the free sex we want before we settle down with a decent girl."


This article is at henrymakow.com - enjoy it as much as I did - both men and women should read it well.

Saturday, October 19, 2019

Dreams of Dixie - here's to you Hong Kong

As you know - friends, I lost my faith in democracy years ago... there is really nothing to say on that subject.

But we have truly slipped into a world of absolute insanity - I have seen some crazy and some wonderful events in my life - but never in my wildest dreams would I have ever imagined in my youth that I would live to see the day when Americans would bow to socialist and communist ideals... and never would I believe that athletes in America would not stand for the National Anthem... nor hear them praise the Communist Chinese... indeed fucked up days we are living in.

I saw a video of protests in Hong Kong and in the foreground some where waving American Flags - a symbol of  freedom and the democratic ideal - I saw a Gadsden flag too... and far back  in the crowd you could see Old Dixie hovering over the protesters heads... 

Here's to you Hong Kong...
Stay strong.


"The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down"
(from "The Last Waltz" soundtrack)


Virgil Caine is the name
And I served on the Danville train
'Till Stoneman's cavalry came
And tore up the tracks again

In the winter of '65
We were hungry, just barely alive
By May the 10th, Richmond had fell
It's a time I remember, oh so well

The night they drove old Dixie down
And the bells were ringing
The night they drove old Dixie down
And the people were singing
They went, "Na, na, la, na, na, na"

Back with my wife in Tennessee
When one day she called to me
Said "Virgil, quick, come see,
There goes the Robert E. Lee!"

Now, I don't mind chopping wood
And I don't care if the money's no good
You take what you need
And you leave the rest
But they should never
Have taken the very best

The night they drove old Dixie down
And the bells were ringing
The night they drove old Dixie down
And all the people were singing
They went, "Na, na, la, na, na, na"

Like my father before me
I will work the land
And like my brother above me
Who took a rebel stand

He was just 18, proud and brave
But a Yankee laid him in his grave
I swear by the mud below my feet
You can't raise a Caine back up
When he's in defeat

The night they drove old Dixie down
And the bells were ringing
The night they drove old Dixie down
And all the people were singing
They went, "Na, na, la, na, na, na"

The night they drove old Dixie down
And all the bells were ringing
The night they drove old Dixie down
And the people were singing
They went, "Na, na, la, na, na, na"

Monday, August 5, 2019

The Hidden Target

This was written some time after the Las Vegas crowd shooting a couple of years back but never posted on line - it was published in "The Deringer Files Vol. I".


Not Quite A Random Shooting
(A Theory)
10-11-2017



I often wonder whenever there is some shooting where many people are killed and injured, if it was not done purposely in order to throw the police off the plot, that it was only done to target one specific individual or certain people in a crowd.

I think the same thing about airplane crashes and train wrecks – were they done just to get rid of one man – some one of importance that the world does not actually know or realize just how important – perhaps some one who just happened to stumble upon some great secret or an inventor that could destroy an industry... or some one that has gotten to close to open doors and connecting dots that he should have stayed away from... or maybe the heir to a great fortune that does not know he is...

I remember when I watched the first Jack Reacher film (have never read Lee Childs) and I got the plot of it before they announced it – it is highly possible for an actual mass shooting event to be staged in order to off one person – they are staged many times in order to push an agenda – gun control using crises actors – I do believe this to be the case in many recent events, and I do believe that there are equally as many legitimate ones... but I do not believe that things just happen – that certain events or evidence happens to be coincidental... no, that I do not believe – in anything.

I believe that in some cases patsies were used - Boston, the London Tunnel bomber from a few years back... and others where there is evidence of crises actors and lack of evidence of an actual event – a drill gone live – how convenient... and I believe in the reality of assassins... that must be killed off or that commit suicide before they can be questioned or given a day in court... first rule of assassination is... kill the assassin.

I think about the Rogue Priest – wandering a crowd some place minding his own business... thinking that he is safe from those 'Heavy Dudes' that are after him... he buys a soda and a burger, maybe, and sits down at a table outside some little eatery... it's mid-day and office workers are out for lunch and without a warning... a shot is heard but the sound echoes off the walls of the city... and another one rings out before the first body hits the floor... and another... and another...

By the time the chaos and the madness settles... a city intersection is covered with blood... 15 souls were released from the prison of their bodies and at least a dozen wounded that will still be able to go back to work and pay their share of taxes... for a couple, charitable foundations have been set up a day or two before the incident... by whom and exactly what the money will be used for is anybodies guess... and among the dead... a priest... or at least we heard he was a priest... or was he an unfortunate homeless American that no-one knows or cares about... just an unfortunate John Doe at the wrong place at the wrong time... like the others... film at eleven.

Saturday, August 3, 2019

looking for the summer

"Looking For The Summer"
By
Chris Rea



Look deep into the April face
A change has clearly taken place
Looking for the summer

The eyes take on a certain gaze
And leave behind the springtime days
Go looking for the summer

This ain't no game of kiss and tell
The implications how you know so well
Go looking for the summer

The time has come and they must go
To play the passion out that haunts you so
Looking for the summer

Remember love how it was the same
We scratched and hurt each others growing pains
We were looking for the summer

And still I stand this very day
With a burning wish to fly away
I'm still looking
Looking for the summer

Tuesday, July 23, 2019

Como hemos cambiado...

by
Juan Luis Gimenez / Sole Giménez

Ah! Cómo hemos cambiado
qué lejos ha quedado
aquella amistad.

Así como el viento lo abandona todo al paso,
así con el tiempo todo es abandonado;
cada beso que se dá, alguien lo abandonará.

Así con los años unidos a la distancia,
fue así como tú y yo perdimos la confianza;
cada paso que se dio, algo más nos alejó.

Lo mejor que conocimos,
separó nuestros destinos
que hoy nos vuelven a reunir;
tal vez si tú y yo queremos
volveremos a sentir aquella vieja entrega. Ah! Cómo hemos cambiado
que lejos ha quedado aquella amistad.
Ah! ¿qué nos ha pasado?
cómo hemos olvidado aquella amistad.

Y así como siento ahora el hueco que has dejado
quizás llegada la hora vuelva a sentirte a mi lado
tantos sueños por cumplir, alguno se ha de vivir.

Lo mejor que conocimos,
Separó nuestros destinos
Que hoy nos vuelven a reunir;
Tal vez si tú y yo queremos
Volveremos a sentir aquella vieja entrega.

Ah! Cómo hemos cambiado
Que lejos ha quedado aquella amistad.
Ah! ¿qué nos ha pasado?
Cómo hemos olvidado aquella amistad.

Monday, July 15, 2019

Gabriela

In the list of stories perhaps I should not tell you... there is the one about a young girl named Gabriela – I called her Gaby... she was fourteen... I was seventeen...

No... I shouldn't... but it is a story pacing those dark halls in my mind – like the restless phantom whispers I should have let loose on Carmen... or Veronica... seductions wrapped up in too much truth that I never would have been able to escape the severity of it's reality... but I did escape – didn't I... though... not with out scars.

And those un-whispered words... they howl in madness some nights... they cry out in pain and anger... and the anguish and regret have me turning over the furniture... in my drunken fury... I slam chairs against the walls and bring down the book cases like a raging angel on the day of the slaughter... I kick in doors and smash the mirrors... I throw computers across the room and laugh the way I would laugh if I was a misunderstood writer abandoned by the muse... and I collapse to the floor like those hundred little pieces of plastic and silicone that was my laptop... all because the whispers I never whispered can not find a home... and I refuse to let them wander the rest of the palace of madness that is what is left of my mind...

And when I get tangled up in the chaos of my discontented memories and the unconquered desires of my youth... drowning in a hurricane of cheap tequila... making bargains with vagabond spirits in the candle light for a little inspiration to get me through the night... demons more than enlightened celestials who would rather see me burn for all eternity in the pits of Hell for the way I played the game – if nothing else... but for nothing less than the love's I carelessly brushed aside as I slipped into the shadows of another meaningless affair... they lend no helping hand or offer any comforting words – these cast away spirits - worthless in their own faith and so lacking in dreams of glory that Lucifer himself has no use for them... but they linger in my study... laughing and barking at me in the dark... cursing me and taunting me...

But somewhere in those howls... I hear her... somewhere down the hall... in one of those empty rooms I here her singing – the same songs she sang all that summer... so many summers ago... and I can smell the lotion on her skin... and even if I catch a whiff of it these days on other young girls... their beauty and youth do not compare to the thrills of that summer... that summer of Gaby and the songs she sang in the heat of 1986.

It was my first summer and my last... that summer that could not end... the one you cannot let go... and you... my friend... know exactly what I am talking about... I know you have a summer just like that calling out to you too... waiting for you in the madness of your memories... It was my first summer and my last... the only one that counts – it was the beginning of my dreams and would greatly shape me into the man I would become – though I was far from discovering that back then... it was the end of the boy and the rise of the man... it was Gabriela... and she is the reason why I ended up choosing the roads I chose as a young man – she started the fire... she was the spark that lit the flame... and no one has ever heard this truth until now... but the story... is so personal and filled with unforgivable passion... it is best left wandering in the silence... but... I won't deny it... and... as it turns out – neither will she.

Gabriela was the angel of temptation – the muse rising from the ruins of my rebellion... my salvation from the storm... but... she was also the tempest... and I wont tell you that it was love... on my part or hers... neither one of us had any illusions of innocence about the other... nor were we chasing it or in a rush to throw away what we had left... but neither one of us was really sure just how much we wanted to know about the world outside the garden... unfortunately... the world found us.

Gabriela's family was from the city of Chihuahua in Mexico and she was in El Paso for the summer with her cousins. She was always with a group of people and she would show up every where... at the pool, at the park, at the movies... at the MacDonald's and at every house party and warehouse party we could get into- she was there with her click of preppies... I miss those 80's preppies – we called them “frezas” in Spanish.

She was always snapping photos with some camera - a Leica or a Polaroid and she was the best dressed girl of the whole damn decade... she looked like a pop star – the girl next door type pop star – I can't exactly recall the first time I started noticing that she was popping up everywhere but she had spotted me first – I was in her collection of photos before we started chatting... she was the one that put the idea of modeling and acting in my head – something I did pursue... but that's another story...

That summer I had began to hang out with a Latin crew – when I was not with my usual gang I was with these other kids from Mexico who I went to school with that stayed in El Paso for that summer and eventually that crew and Gabriela's merged... funny thing is that even when I was out by myself I would end up running into the girl - and she would be on her own too... look, neither of us had time to waste that summer and we hooked up quickly... don't even know how it happened... we became a thing... I never introduced her to my regular gang – they knew nothing about her but she of course knew who they were... because she was everywhere that summer... and thinking about it, they had to know who she was – she was the “it girl...” but they did not know about her and I... (I don't think... ), but everyone on the Latin side knew and some where not too thrilled about it... one of Gabriela's cousins had major problems with me for whatever reason but we never found out what and why... so we stopped caring about it... and we carried on with this thing we had that we never defined and we never labeled or classified and never even talked about – and when others brought it up Gabriela and I would pretend to not know what anyone was talking about... but really – we did not try to hide it... what ever it was... because sometimes the moment was too much for us, or we would be lost in it... perhaps I should just stop there... before we get trapped in the severity of the reality of it...

I would see her from time to time after that summer for a few years – even after I started dating Elsa – I would see Gabriela every where we went – we would not speak... but would let ourselves get lost in the gaze... trying to find an echo of that summer somewhere in the madness of this new world we were trying to navigate through with out that Spandau Ballet soundtrack that played in the background of our affair... or those old friends that were there to keep us from drowning in the insanity of that thing that - might have turned into love – had the summer lasted just a little bit longer...

She married when she was twenty... they are still together.

She said I could tell that story... but knows that no-one outside of that gang... will get it... because that summer was ours.

Wednesday, June 26, 2019

some kind of magic

It was too good - it couldn't last

this is a public response to a private letter
(for the record... and these files)


Well girl... you found me...

Now what?

Pick up where we left off...

Watching you walk away... to go back to him – whoever he was... I never knew and I never cared... the only thing that mattered was what was real when you were with me... if it was real at all... and at this phase of my life... I don't care any more to know... because these days I don't know what's real anymore any way...

But you played a good game... we made some fine love... and when we locked ourselves away in my little room there was nothing outside our universe and the world we created... only God could make it any better... but as you reminded me... you had to leave... and as you remind me... I had nowhere to go and nowhere to be... what good could I have been to you outside that room?

But as I have told others that find their way here – you never got a chance to see me shine... but yeah... maybe I have just hit my prime... so here I am... and as you may have guessed... I am very much the same man... I have no real ambition... but life has gotten easier... and I can afford to not care and just lounge around... there is plenty and nothing to worry about except how to keep it... just saying... I'm the same ass-hole I was before I got it... I am still – apparently... worthless... outside the bedroom... but I have you to thank for those skills in a big way...

You taught me how to fuck... you know what I mean... it's all we did – for three days – some times four days straight... every man should get so lucky to find a girl like you – but you found me, that's right... and you left when the thrill of it all was over for you... or something like that – doesn't matter –

no...

I do not think bad about you – the only memories I have of you are - sex... what else was there... I can barely recall our conversations... what the hell did we talk about in those moments between the love making...?

I have never spoken of you – though I have made references to the girl that taught me how to fuck... never mentioned you by name and never acknowledged you publicly until now – and I have thought of you often... even after having sex with other women... because the move I had just used on her to drive her into an orgasmic mental break down – I had mastered with you – respect...

I can only smile when I think of you – I hope you feel the same way about me...

 so...

Let's just leave it as it ended... going our different ways... with nothing left behind but the fading echoes of the love we made in that little universe on Grand Avenue...



Tuesday, May 28, 2019

SPARTA - become the thing that legends are born from

"If you worship your enemy, you are defeated.
If you adopt your enemy’s religion you are enslaved.
If you breed with your enemy you are destroyed."
— Polydoros of Sparta (741 to c. 665 BC)



Wednesday, February 27, 2019

A game of desire and lust

I don't mind it so much... those moments of madness - when you loose control and all I can do is wait for the emotions to come crashing down on top of you... and I have to dig you out of the ruble of your insanity... I listen for the tired whimpers under the fading dust cloud that is left after your nuclear breakdown... and though I don't really know what I am supposed to do or say when I find you... let alone heal you of the demons that conquer you and abandon you...

I imagine all my whores – crawling out of the fog of my desires... drunk off the passion I drowned them in with promises of something more in a city near the sea... where no-one knows us... I seduce them into tears and leave them in angry despair... because... I really am just an ass-hole... my sweet lovely fragile whores... where would I be with out you?

But...

this morning...

I find it hard to walk out on you... so...

I wait...

because there is nothing I can do or say...

but there is something inside of me that needs to see you like this... some morbid and deranged part of me that seems to want to feed off of your shattered mind and bruised soul... you will hate me when you learn that... maybe... just maybe... I am aroused by it... I must be... because I always seem to find myself with the most insane of all women... beautiful... but bat-shit crazy...and here I am again.

I knew you were this way and I knew this would happen... I was just counting the days until you let it out... but don't blame me when you destroy your room because I am not there to cage the beast of your lust... and subdue her with the same old lies I let slip in the dark... in carefully calculated whispers... designed to melt away whatever is left of the walls young girls built around them to protect their emotional chastity from men like me... words crafted in secret libraries where Russian poets drink themselves blind until the memories of love and the Czar have gotten lost in the putrid scent of fading pages on shelves that have collapsed under the weight of the dreams of an empire lost to the chaos of history... words conjured up by candle-light in Gadreel's garden, perfumed in the smoke of the Dragon Queen's own daughters, configured to enslave you by your own desires of which I posses the key and only when you race across town to abandon yourself to the fire and surrender your lust to me will the thirst of your concupiscence be silenced... and then... when I have satisfied my own hunger for your beauty and your youth and you lay spent and debilitated... then... my darling... I will call up the demons of your madness from the dark cave of your heart... to drown us in the rage of your madness once more until the world comes crashing down on us from the weight of the lies I fill your dreams with that no broken hearted Russian poet could have ever conceived of in a sober state... because my little doll... those tears... swelling up in your chest... they now belong to me...

You knew what kind of man I really was – in-spite of the man I want to be and the man I pretend to be... but still... you wanted to play my game... and until you come to your senses and run away... far, far away from me... this is the game of desire and lust with me.

McGinnis

Tuesday, February 19, 2019