There was a gleam in her eye when “Ghostbusters” (2016) came up in the group’s discussion. She corrected the speaker, a male, who didn’t make an elaborate point to reference the movie’s notorious gender component- “the new Ghostbusters” he offhandedly called it, but this was “girl Ghostbusters,” she said with pride. After all, she was a high school Science teacher and this was a victory with which she could attach herself.
This attachment was the point, existing independently of the movie. She may not see it, nor should she have to- her attachment to “girl Ghostbusters” had served to bolster her identity. The actual film is an afterthought- a big budget leftist talking point. Beyond all the fuss, “Ghostbusters” is a pile of crap with regurgitated jokes, so who really cares?
Someone working deep inside the Clinton campaign must really fucking hate her guts. Old Hillary is gearing up for an appearance on the Ellen show alongside the entire cast of the smelly-like-farts “Ghostbusters” (2016) re-make. I am praying to Jesus that she comes out with the stupid uniform on, personalized with CLINTON across the left breast; she can have her own proton pack, maybe some impromptu CG will be employed. Please God, make her the honorary fifth Ghostbuster.
Don’t just finger me, God; I want it all the way in.
This stupid movie has the stink of death, and for Clinton to attach herself to it almost certainly means that someone working for her is either certifiably retarded or absolutely insane… but why is this movie so particularly hated?
After all, “Ghostbusters” is a movie and movies are bad.
While pacing an empty classroom after hours, door shut and blinds drawn, dictating a clumsy outline for why the movie “Overboard” (1987)- yes, “Overboard”- provides sufficient evidence for the success of a Trump/Sanders dream ticket, I can’t help but feel like I’m sneaking pop-rocks after brushing my teeth. I’m in too deep and I’m clapping wildly at show ponies. Dogs jumping through flaming hoops. Hot dogs and Easter candy. Junk food. Bullshit.
None of this means anything, but I can’t quit Donald Trump.
I’ve become a political junkie cheering for a puppet show. I want to see Ravishing Rick Rude with the WWF gold- taunting the fat, out of shape, low-T, liberal sweat hogs. I want the mere words “President Trump” to be a passive aggressive trigger striking rotten disdain into the hearts of all who oppose.
It was really just a joke, I swear. I think of something that makes me laugh, and I want to share. Mrs. Larcey was right all along, standing in our empty Bio lab deep in 1994, it’s true- I do think I’m funny. But this was meant to be harmless! My god! Just a little bit of joking around after having my car broken into.
First time in my life too. I got in my car Sunday morning, ready to go to the gym, thinking “gee, I don’t remember throwing all my stuff around like a crazy person,” before it hit me:
While I haven’t seen Christine in years, every time we catch up the conversation ends with her saying something like, “well, as long as you’re happy…” She doesn’t understand why I’ve never left the suburbs, nor have I had any real desire to do so. Even more troubling to Christine, the idea that I may be happy with this.
For a conscious man wading through the muck of modern treachery, yes, I am fairly happy. Living in the city never appealed to me; there is nothing better than a quiet summer night. Everything I need is a car ride away, and since I was never really much of a drinker, I rarely had to face the quandary of getting home from a bar.
But, like always, there was more at stake than what Christine was capable of understanding. We may as well have been playing out roles on a reality TV show- not exactly scripted, but loosely scripted. It was hardly a genuine conversation. Even if neither party felt the overt grasp of invisible puppet strings guiding our interaction- our thoughts, our feelings, our desires, our identity- they are deeply present regardless of our being conscious of them.
Understanding the presence of these puppet strings is what separates the conscious man from the unconscious man. Understanding the depth of their control dictates the level of consciousness. And understanding the true power of these influences can make a man omniscient.
Abortion is a non-issue in pre-collapse America. While it’s certainly a practice which renders the woman a victim- of her own short sighted naivete- it isn’t a conversation that needs to be had in our current state of decline.
This is what separates the naive cuckservative from the savvy reactionary: Alternative 1985 America cannot be saved, and the warm fuzzy 1955, the one with the Enchantment Under the Sea dance, has been erased- the only path available is a complete reset.
As a politician, Donald Trump can’t outright say that America must be destroyed so he’s instead reframed the dark message of reboot into a glossier, big budget, Hollywood-style blockbuster: Make America Great Again. But it then becomes important to examine what was lost in translation.
Women were never intended to compete with men in the male sphere. This isn’t a knock on women, or a concept that’s inherently anti-woman. Nature is the biggest fascist of all and has carved out meticulously defined roles for men and women without any concern for our feelings. The true secret to a successful life is to work in harmony with the role you were given, and do the most you can with it.
Men are Civilization builders, and women exist to inspire men to greatness. Male physiology demands sex; for emotional wellness, a man needs feminine energy. For our species to thrive, we need children raised within the safety and stability of a nuclear family. While women may not be the builders of our Civilization, they are the foundation from on which it’s built… and somewhere along the line, they decided they should be both.
And if we’re playing “Back to the Future 2,” this is around when the timeline splits; welcome to Alternate 1985.
The grim reality of the world is that most people don’t know how to think. All of these people worshiping academia, signaling supposed intellectual superiority, and machine-gun spouting opinions like an Ikari Warrior, don’t actually have the proper foundation of building accurate thought.
Yes, “accurate thought” sounds fascist; now you’re getting it.
Opinions are not made equally; valid opinions require adhering to the unflinching rules of Logic and Argumentation. The sad reality of modern education is that those rules are only taught deep within the Philosophy department’s course catalog, hidden away from typical student’s ideology heavy masturbation sessions.
Gosh, it’s almost like they don’t want people learning how to think.
But everyone wants an opinion, and everyone wants to sound smart. Intellectual superiority has become a modern addiction.
The dynamic between Black Lives Matter and the police mimic Batman and the Joker in “The Dark Knight” (2008). By their own premise, Black Lives Matter purports that poor black people are perpetually naughty children who inevitably deal with the police. These naughty children have no standard of behavior to meet nor rules to abide by- they are inherently naughty. The police, who make their careers handling violence, have rules and standards to meet, and even when the situation is crazier than usual, if those rules are broken it’s cause for outrage and demands.
One side of the equation is given a ready-made excuse for lacking accountability, the other side is burdened with limitless accountability. One side is expected to be unpredictable while the other is held to the expectation of perfection.
Darth Vader is a big black dick raping the galaxy. The hard plastic shell of his costume mimics an erection, and Vader carries a large and imposing physical stature. Don’t believe me? His dickhead helmet is a dead giveaway. Vader represents the kind of toxic masculinity that’s become a popular point of critique after the jump to Progressive light-speed post-1960.
While Vader eventually meets his emasculation when the mask comes off and he’s revealed to be a fat white doofus, Lucas permits Vader to carry the credibility of power and dread for two-and-a-half movies, perhaps mimicking the white man’s “reign of terror” until a kind of genocidal emasculation was put into motion, in media and academia, by second-wave feminism and the sexual revolution.