Saturday, March 25, 2017

GUERRILLA WARFARE WITH THE REDSHE (A Terrible Parable About Our Times)

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[The following short story was originally published on this blog in 2010. I am republishing it now due to the overwhelming number of requests that I do so. Ha! Nah. I'm doing so just to make it easier for Br'er Marc to find.]
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A few days ago, I posted here at 'Ferret-Faced Fascist Friends' a new installment (the 7th in the series) of ‘Sex, Tattoos & Violence R Us’. In this latest edition, I had a bit titled “Funny-Sounding Verification Words”.

As you may know, on some blogs, when submitting a comment for posting, you are required to type in a computer-generated Verification Word. These are nonsensical arrangements of letters meant to insure that the comment submission is coming from a real human being and not some spamming computer program.

Well, I find some of the Verification Words to be funny, or interesting, or just plain weird, and so for the last 7 months I saved in a Word File all of my favorite Verification Words I encountered while submitting comments to the blogs of others. Here are the 27 words I wound up saving after 7 months.

jebocker - mifie - curbiti - stermo - bolergar - redshe - stampoxi - phreti - liturva - spoteli - hingsomp - jewdays - demetax - waysizin - emotle – mingsi - equalysi - antiverg - muthref - expot - wingam -ellycart - unglyz - dinathr - ditypolf - inhomiz – locurri

Well, this morning, I got to wondering just how difficult it would be to try incorporating all of these words into a story. I decided to give it a go and below is what I came up with. Turns out, it really wasn’t very difficult at all. Especially if seriousness and quality are immediately thrown through the window, trampled upon, and then put to the torch. Right from the start, I figured the simplest way would be to come at this problem with a kind of futuristic Sci-Fi approach.

I can hardly believe I wasted time in doing this . . . but I did. No point in "wasting it worse" by refraining from posting it on this blog. Here’s a Sci-Fi look at the future by a guy (me) who really doesn’t much like Sci-Fi stories nor the future. I’ve put all of the Verification Words in red.
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GUERRILLA WARFARE WITH THE REDSHE
 
In the year 2525
If man is still alive
If woman can survive
They may find
In the year 3535
Ain't gonna need to tell the truth, tell no lies
Everything you think, do, and say
Is in the pill you took today.
~ "In the Year 2525 (Exordium and Terminus)"

by Zager & Evans

When the Moon was in the seventh house and Curbiti aligned with Liturva, I received an urgent call from Commissioner Bolergar on the Fratphone. It seemed that the Redshe were threatening to perform extreme circumcision on all of the men they held captive during the upcoming Jewdays celebration unless their demands of equalysi were met.

The Redshe were Marxist-inspired Feminists led by a female midget named Unglyz, and equalysi was their extremist ideology that on the surface meant that women should be given fair and equal treatment with men in all areas of social, political and professional life here in Bravenewworldwetrust. But everyone knew that in practice, the true goal of equalysi was to give preferential treatment to females, while degrading men and undermining their self-esteem. Everyone also knew that “extreme circumcision” was a euphemism for... well, literally emasculating the men held in Redshe prisons.

It was up to me to free the captives and teach the Redshe a lesson they would not soon forget. My name is Jacques Jebocker, and I am a professional exterminator for the highly trained, all-male counterrevolutionary warrior unit called The Dinathr.

When she learned that I might be gone for as long as four weeks, naturally, my wife Mifie pleaded with me to let her accompany me on this mission. I explained to her that it would be fast and dangerous and I couldn’t afford to be slowed down by anyone with physiological emotle wiring. It would be best if she stayed behind, at home, and continued raising our children. It was a tough job – tougher than mine – but someone had to do it.

But without saying a word, Mifie flashed me a view of her locurri and I began to think: Well, heck, four weeks IS a long time, and a man gets lonely on the road and while hiding in the underground ellycarts waiting for just the right moment to spring into action and exterminate the enemy.

“Alright, see if you can find a babysitter,” I told Mifie, and then I went to the garage to pack my gear.

That night, Mifie and I enjoyed a fine meal together, as we knew it would be our last for some time. Hereafter, we’d be scrounging for scraps, dumpster diving, and begging for crumbs from the destitute Mingsi we encountered in the villages on the outskirts of devastated Expot. Expot was the name given to the ramshackle and burned-out buildings that remained of once glorious Good-Pot Utopia on the high, rolling hills region in Bravenewworldwetrust after the terrible Wingam Wars had wrought their destruction.

I couldn’t help mentally dwelling on the demanding, rigorous job that we were in for, of the deprivation and exhaustion that lay ahead of us and the jungle-producing diarrhea that would lie behind us.

“Jacques, you’ve hardly touched your hingsomp,” Mifie scolded me, “and I sauteed it just the way you like!”

“I know. I’m sorry, Mif,” I confessed. “But you wouldn’t be hungry either if you knew of the demanding, rigorous job that we are in for, of the deprivation and exhaustion that lies ahead of us and the jungle-producing diarrhea that will lie behind us.”

“Try not to think about it, darling,” she said as she pulled the cork on another bottle of 2525 vintage spoteli, and poured me another large crystal glass full of the intoxicating stuffs.

Three bottles of spoteli later, Mifie unveiled her locurri and we fell to the kitchen floor together and engaged in passionate ditypolf while our dog, Spot, kept barking into the
Inhomiz-Canine Translator, “Get a room! Get a room!”

Mifie and I woke up hungover as hell on the kitchen floor at eleventy o’clock the following day. Damn, we had already missed the morning Stermo Racer! Now we’d have to commute to Dinathr Headquarters at Expot with all the smelly peasants on the slow and bone-rattling Stampoxi Train and pay the exorbitant demetax at the crowded Waysizin Station. Crap! I hate it when that happens. And it happens a lot! Too often, if you ask me.

The Waysizin Stations were centers where bureaucrats working for Uncle Sam’s Big Brother weighed and measured every traveler’s luggage for taxation purposes. Every aspect of life was regulated, weighed, measured and taxed, but the people cheered the taxes because the citizens’ wealth confiscated by Uncle Sam’s Big Brother’s bureaucrats here in Bravenewworldwetrust was used to keep the homeland safe from invasions by maurading bands of Redshe, Mangy Muthref and other undesirables. Or at least that’s what the people were told by their politicians.

Commissioner Bolergar was pissed that I was so late in arriving at Dinathr Headquarters, but he was even madder to find that I had brought Mifie with me.

“What the hell’s wrong with you, Jebocker?” Bolergar demanded. “How could you bring your wife along on a mission like this? Do you have any idea what sort of demanding, rigorous job you are in for, of the deprivation and exhaustion that lies ahead of you and the jungle-producing diarrhea that will lie behind you?”

“While I’m out there trying to gain the trust and the cooperation of the Mingsi, I think the special equipment Mifie possesses – her locurri, to be crude but specific, Chief - will come in handy in that regard,” I argued. “And besides that, the babysitter gave us her ultra-low ‘War With The Redshe’ rate. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“Very well,” Bolergar said. “But at the first hint of trouble, I’m taking you off this case and turning it over to Agent 86.”

“I won’t let you down this time, Chief!” I promised.

“Fine, Jacques, fine. Now the first thing you’d better do is see Doctor Freddie Phreti in the laboratory and have him give you both a dose of Antiverg. Dinathr Headquarters has received fairly reliable intelligence reports that the Redshe have contaminated the local water supply with the deadly Verg virus to which only they are immune.”

“You got it, Chief,” I said as I turned to leave for Doctor Phreti’s office. I always dreaded having to take the Anti-Kool-Aid solution because it smelled like urine. The Antiverg syrup, however, wasn’t so bad because it tasted like chicken.

. . . . . . . .

Well, that’s as far as I got with this story because I ran out of Verification Words. And too bad, too, because I feel I have the beginning of a genuine classic here.
;o)

 
As ridiculous as the thing is, it was kind of fun to write and I do sort of like what I stuck in there.
 
It was just an experiment to see if I could use all the crazy Verification Words, but I managed to make references to everything, almost including the kitchen sink. One can find Batman in there, Get Smart, The Pink Panther, the Hippie ‘60s, but best of all, it’s a commentary on Feminism, the phony War Against Terrorism and the stupidity of modern Americans willing to trade money and liberty for safety. And I was also satirizing the sort of rubbish that passes as “entertainment” for dumbed-down Americans today. You know, crap like Battlestar Galactica and Xena The Warrior Bimbo, stuffs like that.
~ Stephen T. McCarthy
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Wednesday, March 22, 2017

PRESIDENT TRUMP'S REPORT CARD (Or, THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE DEAD)

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In an effort to keep my vow to you readers (both of you) of posting more regularly here, I've tossed together this News Of The Week blog bit. Just because I've tossed it together quickly doesn't mean it's not good stuffs. Haven't you ever had a good tossed salad? (Yeah, I haven't either. But this really is a pretty good tossed blog bit.)
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First, I'll give you MY REPORT CARD ON DONALD TRUMP'S PRESIDENCY AFTER 61 DAYS.
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Up to this point, I'm giving Don an overall grade of "B". And that's a pretty impressive grade considering the fact that I am a Constitutionalist and Don isn't. (I've never been under any delusion that Trump was a Constitutionalist and would govern exactly how I - or Ron Paul - would govern.) And a "B" looks especially stellar considering that I would give a grade of "F" to every single other president I've suffered under during my 57 years of life.
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So far, I have no "buyer's remorse" regarding my vote for Donald Trump in the 2016 Presidential election. (What other choice did I have, anyway? Vote for Crooked Clinton or Goofy Gary Johnson, a liberal in "Independent" clothing?)
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Trump's First 100 Days
by The New American

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In just 2 months, President Trump has already done more good for this country than any other so-called "conservative" Republican during my lifetime. Below is a list of just some of the things Trump has done - or is attempting to do - that I approve of:
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“America First — A Budget Blueprint to Make America Great Again”

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Immigration Executive Order
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Executive Order directing the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency to review and reconsider the “Waters of the United States” (WOTUS) regulation
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Rescinding transgender bathroom and Locker-room rules
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Signed an executive order to “immediately plan, design, and construct a physical wall along the southern border” of the United States.
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Reviving the Keystone XL and Dakota Access pipeline projects
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President Trump fulfilled his campaign pledge to withdraw the U.S. government from the “free trade” regime known as the Trans-Pacific Partnership.
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Nominating Judge Gorsuch for the Supreme Court
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Regarding that last item, Senator Dianne Feinstein (D-CA) said:
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“Judge Gorsuch has also stated that he believes judges should look to the original public meaning of the Constitution when they decide what a provision of the Constitution means. This is personal, but I find this originalist judicial philosophy to be really troubling. In essence, it means the judges and courts should evaluate our Constitutional rights and privileges as they were understood in 1789. However, to do so, would not only ignore the intent of the framers, that the Constitution would be a framework on which to build, but it severely limit the genius of what our Constitution upholds.
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"I firmly believe the American Constitution is a living document, intended to evolve as our country evolves. In 1789, a population of the United States was under 4 million. Today, we’re 325 million and growing. At the time of our founding, African-Americans were enslaved. It was not so long after women had been burned at the stake for witchcraft, and the idea of an automobile, let alone the Internet, was unfathomable. In fact, if we were to dogmatically adhere to originalist interpretations, then we would still have segregated schools and bans on interracial marriage, women wouldn’t be entitled to equal protection under the law, and government discrimination against LGBT Americans would be permitted. So I am concerned when I hear that Judge Gorsuch is an originalist and a strict constructionist.”
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Now, what's wrong with all that? Can anybody tell me why that's 16 tons of bullshit? Anyone? How about you, Leon Cobarde, you wanna take a shot at it? (No? I didn't think so.)
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Now, on the other side of the coin, some of the things President Trump is doing that I DON'T approve of can be found in the following article:
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Will Donald Trump Let Paul Ryan Make Him A One-Term President?

by Pastor Chuck Baldwin

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The best, most intellectually and morally sound conservative writer I am currently aware of is Selwyn Duke. Below is a very eye-opening article about Liberalism's phony savior, the commie Bernie Sanders. I'm not going to say you're an idiot if you voted for him... but I'm certainly thinking it.
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Twitter Is Irate Over Bernie Sanders’ Tweet That US ‘Worships Wealth’
by Selwyn Duke

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Last but not least, the best news of the week is that David Rockefeller is now being licked by flames...
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David Rockefeller, “Mr. Globalist,” Dead at 101
by William F. Jasper

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That's all I gots (for now) but stay tuned -- same BatTime, same BatChannel.
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~ Stephen T. McCarthy
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Saturday, March 11, 2017

HOW I WOULD MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN (Or, WHY TRUMP IS ALL WRONG FOR THIS JOB)

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The commies are still upset about President Donald Trump having been elected president by We The Non-Fake People. They should just STFU. Because but for the grace of God, I might be POTUS. And if they think they hate Trump, they would absolutely, positively, 100% despise me as president... for a few days, anyway.

For, you see, I think Donald Trump is taking WAY TOO LONG to Make America Great Again. Trump is just too namby-pamby and sentimental for this job. But I guess we're stuck with him since We The Real People elected him.

If I were your president, here's what I would do:

On the First Day, right after my inauguration, I would nuke Northern California right off the map! G'bye, 'Crisco and Oakland. G'bye, Santa Cruz and San Jose (I didn't even want to know the way!). 'Bye, Berkeley. In a matter of minutes, the U.S.A. would be improved by 25%.
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Then I would do nothing for 24 hours. This would give the decent, God and America-loving people -- those who were smart enough to figure out what was coming next -- enough time to pack their dogs, cats and goldfish, lock their teenagers in the basement, and get the phuq out.

On Day Three, I would nuke Washington D.C., New York City, and Chicago off the map. (And perhaps Massachusetts too, depending upon how severe my hangover was that day.)

Then, after just three days in office -- having made America great again -- I would resign from the Presidency, and retire from public service.

~ Stephen T. McCarthy
DogGtor of Alcohology &
King of Inebriation Nation
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Check out my new blog @
(Link:] Stephen T. McCarthy Reviews...
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Monday, March 6, 2017

LAZY EBT PIGS (Or, TAXPAYER THEFT AT THE SAK 'N SAVE)

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First, I want to say that I have NOT abandoned this blog again. I hope to become regularly (or at least semi-regularly) active on it again soon. And I do have a lot of blog bit ideas on the back burner -- one or two of which are partially written already. The problem is that I currently have three active blogs and that's one too many. Something is going to have to get 86ed at some point.
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Now that the preliminaries are finished, it's on to the the main event. Are you ready to rumble?!...
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Yesterday, I was in my local Sak 'N Save. I hate this grocery store. Their prices are too high. They rarely have enough cash register lines operating. But most of all, I've lost untold hours of my life waiting 8-persons deep in lines behind illegal Mexicans! I would guess that at any given time, 50% of the store's customers are illegal aliens. (I don't use the word "undocumented" on this xtremely un-P.C. and unrepentant blog.) And I would guess that 85% of the store's customers are on Welfare.

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So, why do I still shop there? In a word, convenience. The store is so close to my abode that I can walk to it. The ONLY positive thing I can think to say about Sak 'N Save is that it was in this very store where I voted Donald Trump for president (and forced that "mentally enslaved moron" to remove his "Hillary Is My Homegirl" T-shirt, as I wrote about HERE).
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I picked up a few items at that store yesterday and found myself in line behind two White Trash-aged women. (You know how it's hard to tell the age of Trailer Park Women because of what all the booze, drugs, and cigarettes have done to their faces?) I'd gone in for a frozen dinner, a gallon of water, and some sunflower seeds. But while waiting in line, I also picked up a dose of mad.
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First of all, these two women were paying for their groceries with an EBT card. "Electronic Benefit Transfer" cards is just a fancy way of saying "Welfare", and Welfare is just a fancy way of saying "theft from the Working Class taxpayers".

Secondly, let me tell you that neither of these women had missed a meal in awhile. Yes, they were overweight. How poor could they be? In my book, they were both at least 40 pounds too wealthy to be eligible for Welfare.
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Apparently, someone at the Trailer Park was celebrating a birthday because one of the items they were purchasing was a custom decorated cake that cost almost forty dollars. I've worked like a dog my whole life, never once been on Welfare, but I have NEVER had a forty dollar birthday cake! WTP?! (What The Phuq?!)
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And guess what else they were buying. No, guess!

They were also buying a big bottle of Cactus Poison:
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I don't recall the actual brand of Tequila they were purchasing -- Patron, Jose Cuervo, Fozzie Bear's Pechoolo Especial -- it's all Cactus Poison to me. Thankfully, they were unable to use their EBT card for the hootch; THAT had to come out of their own pocket, not mine.
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But here's the part that really gave me a case of the mads:

Miss Trailer Park #1 couldn't remember the Personal Identification Number (PIN) for her EBT card, so she asked Miss Trailer Park #2. However, Miss Trailer Park #2 didn't know it. So then Miss Trailer Park #1 hollered over to a third friend, whom I was unaware of because she was sitting about 25 feet away. And from her seat in front of the slot machine that she was playing, Miss Trailer Park #3 shouted back the PIN.
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You got that? These women make so little money (probably don't have one job between the three of them) that they qualify for "theft from the Working Class taxpayers", and yet they can somehow afford to drink lots of Tequila, eat $37 custom-made cakes, gamble money on slot machines, and remain at least 40 pounds overweight.

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And some mentally defective jerkoffs out there still can't figure out how Donald Trump got elected president.
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There's nuttin' wrong with most Marxocrats that a 60 I.Q.-points upgrade and a hundred dollars couldn't fix.
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~ Stephen T. McCarthy
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