Tea Abortion and George Carlin

In the wake of recent Texas politics and American moral dysfunction that has ruined the “dream”, worst-writer is both amused and über-amused. Since Americans enjoy living in a world of fear, on account conservatives can’t accept the failure they have sewn and the fact that American Exceptionalism has run its course, it’s only natural that those who have spent their lives lying to themselves can’t quit. After more than a decade of devastating the world with our power because we can’t face our inner demons, you’d think that someone would step up and take a stance against behaviour run amok. For a moment after Barry Obama was elected, I thought he might do it. But with his election certain floodgates were opened and his moment quickly passed. If you thought things couldn’t get any worse in the American experiment, hold the presses. One of the first politicians on the national stage I remember embracing the Tea Party was Dubya-after-birth Rick Perry. A politician obsessed with false morality, bred by archaic demons and a worshipper of praying to what might just as well be a tea-pot in the sky that Alamo ghost warriors are trying to hit with cockeyed six shooters. Now don’t get me wrong. Texas, without doubt, is an exceptional part of the republic — especially when compared to Rhode Island. Which brings me to stupid.

Just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, enter the Tea Party. For a short while there worst-writer thought that these guys might be on to something. But then the stirred waters calmed and the truth was revealed. The Tea Party wasn’t the phoenix rising from the ashes, it was a bunch of teeth-less rednecks that never figured out why they voted republican in the first place and thereby thought the ashes could still burn a bit more. Hence the result of millions of greedy little minds emboldened by the likes of Limbaugh, Faux Newz & Co. Which brings me to a little worst-history lesson that might explain things but probably won’t connect the dots.

The events that lead to the Boston Tea Party were about a multi-national corporation in cohorts with government that was trying to monopolise an industry and thereby infringe on the freedom and livelihood of colonists.

For these pseudo-Europeans, whose ancestors would eventually become Americans, the Boston Tea Party was considered to be the last straw regarding government and corporate over-reach. Colonists rebelled and threw the tea of the East India Company into the Boston Harbour. Now. If republicans and conservatives want to use the Boston Tea Party as a symbol for a political cause, then they logically should be against a government that is in cohorts with big business. Which also means they should be against all things conservative! This is why tea-partiers, conservatives, republicans are so easy to make fun of.

For those willing to go out on a limb with worst-writer, let me stretch and bend and misconnect some dots. Starting, of course, with Texas exceptionalism. And since I already explained one piece of history misinterpreted, I shan’t do it again regarding Texas and its Alamo. Moving on. Obviously all these years of American political conservatism has taken a toll. Worst-writer cannot know how long it will take for America to recover from this repeat of Government in cohorts with big business. The time between The Boston Tea Party (1773), the American Revolutionary War (1775-1783), to the ratification of the Constitution (1788) was long and arduous, indeed. How long it took after all that for America to become what it is today, I’ll leave that to those who are better informed. But my worst-guess is it took until about 1950 for America to reap the benefits of rebellion. And how short lived it’s all been. There seems to be only one thing worth considering in these extreme days of nevermore that can’t see through political wrong turns. What rational thinking people are up against is the idear of what side you are on. Are you, as a participant in hell-games, on the side of the unborn or are you on the side of the dead? Remember, everything in-between is a commodity which must be afforded! And so it’s only natural, since conservatism has not only failed but bears zero remorse for its failure, a country run by nut-bags will never give up in the cause to let it all go to ash. And so no one stands up to being governed by false morality, religious über-zeal and the power of faith and belief in something unattainable. Including tea-pots in the sky. What an easy route, eh. And you really believe that the Alamo was about Texas?

Oh. What’s this all about? News, news and George Carlin.

Nomatter. There are a few sparks of hope and those sparks may or may not connect any dots. So I shouldn’t have brought up the connect the dots in the first place. Yet. The other day when a female state senator from Texas stood up to filibuster the only type of law making left to conservatives, other than laws that help big government and big companies, I was über-impressed. And I was also hoping that this particular senator could start a reverse Alamo which could then lead to a reverse Boston Tea Party. Wishful think, eh? Even though the euphoria was short-lived of what this Texas senator had done, for a moment worst-writer felt some pride for humanity and for the country I miss so much. If Americans no longer have the balls to stand up for what made it once great, but instead prefer misinterpreting revolutions and thereby enabling government by false-gods, then it deserves what it sews. Besides. George Carlin got all this stuff right not to long ago. Still missing him.

Other links that motivated this post:


Rant on



Fly Swatting

Great example of what’s wrong and how things can’t be fixed. Is vid (below) a meeting of the giants? Not necessarily individual giants but giants of idears, giants of philosophy, American philosophy. Let me explain. There are a few types of Americans. Here we’ll deal with two. One is the industrious American. This is the one out to make a buck. That’s all he or she will do. No matter what a buck will be made, all else be damned. Got that? The other is the one that believes in the stars & stripes, banners of glory, lives for wearing the vale of pride in a country where making a living is a residual effect of serving that country. These two types of people, indeed, these two worlds are in great conflict at the moment. Reason? Well, it’s been a long time in the making, but the part of America that serves has finally overwhelmed the part of American that is/used to be industrious. Perpetual war will do that to a country and its people. Voodoo economics will also do it. The thing is, will America ever be able to recover from this mess? Answer: Oh well.

Ever remember being a kid and getting in trouble and thinking: but what I did wasn’t so bad because I know someone else that did something worse? And when you try to tattle tale on someone because what they did was worse it doesn’t matter because you are the one on trial. And then there were the times when I got in trouble and I knew it was because someone was a tattle-tale. Scoldings, whippings, slaps and beatings, punishment galore and time-outs and suspensions and being sent to my room for weeks on end. It really is torture growing up in a world that says you’re free but the reality is you’re only as free as someone else allows you to be. And so I must ask: does the guy being scolded (he is not one that serves but is instead industrious) in this video deserve it? Of course he does. I mean, the congresswoman really lays into him. You can almost see her eyes starting to swell with self-appointed rage. The guy she is scolding is gaming a system (gaming the system is part of industrious America) because of a sprained ankle he got while playing sports at school. Comparatively, the congresswoman lost her legs while at war serving her country. I’d say (sarcasm) the scales of justice are balanced.

Of course the Congresswoman is right in scolding the peon that gamed the system. Still. Worst-writer can’t help but think there’s something else going on. It’s like swatting a fly and forgetting about the pile of shit not far away that gives us all those flies. Will the congresswoman ever do anything about that? I mean, will her pride in serving the country ever scold the banks, the government contractors, the war machine that is also gaming the system? Ah. Now we’re getting somewhere. The big gamers are different, right? The servers no longer serve the idear of America they serve the big gamers. No hypocrisy here, eh? No rigging the scales of justice. Send them all to their room.

Note on video. Several attempts to embed this video have failed. If vid doesn’t play then search for: “tammy duckworth shames irs contractor trying to game the system”. It’s worth viewing.

Here’s Tammy Duckworth’s wiki page.

Rant on.


No Real Men

George Carlin: “How come when it’s us it’s an abortion, when it’s a chicken it’s an omelette?”

Two questions. Why is Amerika obsessed with abortion? And. Where are the men? I mean, where are the men that are the true cause of abortions? I have yet to hear a man and his intentions being questioned about this issue. Why is that? I reckon, as it’s aways been, it’s easy for a man to pull out of the situation and thereby burden someone else with everything. Or does this legislative process, hidden behind a vale of false morality, have something to do with men wanting to protect other men from having to face up to what they’ve all done. Stopping a woman from making her own choices is all that’s left for a society that can’t deal with equality, emancipation, feminism, civil rights, sexuality, etc. At the least, as the train-wreck that is 21st century American’t goes about its greed-mongering and empire building, the abortion issue is certainly a great diversion. But what happened in TX recently is pretty astonishing. In fact, this gives worst-writer hope that there might be a chance for American’t in the future. The filibuster pulled off by Senator Wendy Davis kept me reading tweets and news all day. Indeed. Yesterday was a  big day in American’t. TX proved that if enough effort is put into it, there is a bulwark that can counter and perhaps finally rid the country of the sickness and cancer that is today’s iteration of fail-upwards conservatism. And don’t miss the irony that Gov. Rick Perry, who wants to ban all abortion, is his own best murderer having executed 500 people in Texas.

Down with conservatism.

Don’t Mess With Texas.



Rant on.


This vs That

A People’s History of the United States

The Untold History of the United States

If you saw these books in a store you might mix them up. At least you might mix up the titles. First, “A People’s History of the United States” by Howard Zinn. Took me a lot of years to finally get to this book. Had it on loan many years ago and I think I might have even started reading it back then. Some of the text seemed very familiar. Nomatter. I bought the Kindle version this time and got through the almost 800 pages in a zip. This book is a narration of how the United States came to be starting from 1492 and the poisoning of natives with chicken-pox laden blankets to contemplating how to legally go from one form of authoritarian governance, i.e. the British King, to a new form of authoritarian governance, i.e. the monarchy of a Constitution. From there the story of protecting the rights of the rich and exploiting everybody else continues. Howard Zinn tells our story and he does so with gusto. But there is something tainted about his book that might stir many a reader, especially readers who aren’t used to certain things because they think they payed attention in school. I’m worst-writing, of course, about the truth. This books doesn’t go into the Disney-like stories of natives and grimy Europeans eating together while the leaves turn golden brown. No. There’s a different kind of truth being presented here. So be careful. Reading this book might give you a new perspective on being a consume to survive slave who thinks they are free.

Next a change-up when it comes to history-telling. But a few words on Oliver Stone first. Ever since “Platoon” Stone has been my teacher. Even when he makes films like “On Any Given Sunday” or “Natural Born Killers” I forgive him. Because he also makes films like “W”. What a seething cinematic expose of a person he obviously hates and loathes. Stone’s portrayal of the protected, isolated and spoiled upbringing of the 43rd President is funtastic. Stone is a master of subtlety in the movie. Without over doing it, which might turn off viewers, Stone portrays George Dubya Dipshit as the dipshit he really is. And while watching the movie you can feel Stone’s contempt for a president who practically ruined the United States (internationally he did ruin it!). If you listen carefully Stone goes he-he-he-he-he more than once in the movie. But I’m off subject.

“The Untold History of the United States” is a chronicle of modern empire building, including all the skewed politics that goes along with that. Unlike Zinn’s book, Stone’s isn’t as well written and I found the text to be a bit bland, especially as it gets bogged down in explaining how many military bases there are or how many bombers and fighters and nuclear bombs are being made and sold and to whom. But that’s neither here nor there. This is a chronicle of The United States and it’s overwhelming power and how it got that way. From this book I got the feeling that America has always been an accident waiting to happen. The end of the cold war was our moment of truth and we masochistically went head-on into the train wreck we are now. But Stone avoids placing blame. Instead there is a subtext to this book: we’re all doomed. Nomatter. One of the things the book does really well is paint a picture of various historic figures trying and failing to provide warning signs for the future. Stone and his co-writers detail not just what happens but who does what in our history. To me this is the great political left-right battle. Stone doesn’t say directly that the right has won but I think most readers know that already. I also enjoyed reading about the Russians. It’s a long time coming that the real winners of WW2 be recognised.

Two great books. Two great reads. But steer away if you can’t take some truth about who and what America really is all about.



Rant on.


Mobility To Nowhere

Ah, the paradigm shift from horse & buggy was long and prosperous for cars, governments and, most importantly, oil. This paradigm has served well. Or? Enter Tesla and its founder Elon Musk. The more I hear about him and the more I dream of buying a Tesla S the more confused I get. Is Elon Musk a genius or showman that can’t come up with a paradigm shift? Musk definitely fits well in his suit of über-inventor and spender of well-earned riches. Someone compared him to Tony Stark from the Iron Man movies. I’m kinda confused with that comparison. Is Musk, like Stark, a great inventor? If that’s the case, did he invent the electric car? Nomatter. Excitement clouds the mind. The reality is, Tesla is not even a car company. What it is is a battery company. And so I must ask. Has Musk re-invented the battery? Has he changed the paradigm set by the Baghdad Battery? Can it even be changed? Now here’s a real worst-question for ya. When energy is not being used is it still energy? Enough pseudo-worst-science. The thing about gasoline is that once you make the stuff it exists until it is used. That’s the trick and, if you will, efficiency of hydrocarbon based energy. Electricity on the other hand must either be used or it must do what old soldiers are supposed to do: fade away–whether it’s used or not. Hence the wondrous invention of the battery. And so here’s worst-writer’s thing. Even though I’m excited about Tesla, I’m not really impressed with what Musk, as a battery maker, is offering. This guy seems more and more to be nothing but a über compulsive engineer with the wherewithal and pocketbook to not recognise the limits that rule him. Those limits being batteries. Is then what he’s doing an attempt to, gee, I don’t know, be one of the crazy ones? Don’t get me wrong, I love the idear behind electric mobility. On my consume to survive shopping list is the purchase of an e-bike. But the thing holding me back from doing it right now is the battery. Indeed. It’s all about the battery. Not to mention that the batteries used in Teslas or e-bikes or my iPhone just don’t make the grade yet. Not only that, once the short life span of these batteries is over does anyone know what will become of them? If I’m not mistaken there are two man-made and heavily consumed products that, for all practical purposes, are non-recyclable. One is the tyre and the other batteries. Musk got himself into that foray, I’d say. And so. Say what you will about the byproduct of burning hydrocarbons, is the solution to that problem worth a new problem of equal if not more complexity? Even though you can break down the parts of a battery you cannot re-use those parts. So where does all the precious, toxic, chemical stuff go? I wonder if the recycling and environmental implications of mass producing and consuming batteries like this is ripe for prime-time. As far as Musk’s presentation of swapping batteries faster than filling the tank of your car with petrol (see vid below), I’m only  impressed that it looks slightly similar to those robots that put on the Iron Man suit. Also. If the cost of such a swap was in the price of the car, for the life of the car, then I’d be impressed. But I reckon Musk has to start asap on expanding his revenue streams. But don’t let worst-writer put a damper on all this excitement.



Rant on.


The Great Mockery

On The TV series The Sopranos.

This post is NSFW.

The electronic book of knowledge has this as its first sentence about the American TV series The Sopranos: “…an American television drama…” Stop the presses! As of the writing of this worst-post, I’m in the fifth season of the series. I started watching the series around Jan/Feb 2013. Of course, I had been curious about the show for a while because I kept reading about how well written it was. In case you’re unaware, for worst-writer, writing is everything! As far as actually watching TV… it takes me a while to catch on.

Based on what I’ve seen, this TV show– verisimilitude be damned–is worth all the praise. But worst-writer has also discovered something about it. First, The Sopranos is not a drama. Second, if it is not a drama, then what is it? Is it a Soap? Format and structure aren’t far off. But the acting is to good. The only other alternative is that this show is a Sitcom. Is that even possible? Could The Sopranos be a Sitcom like any American sitcom — except that this one has grown up, got caught up in the wrong crowd, been galavanting around the neighbourhood at ungodly hours and suddenly found itself drug addicted and hooked on steroids? Which reminds me of an old American saying: better living through chemicals, baby. (Remember that the next time you have American beef and watch this show at the same time.)


There are those who could easily argue worst-writers pseudo philosophising and pseudo conclusions about American TV genres. Since I’ve been living abroad for so long and have missed a couple decades of American TV programming, perhaps I have a bit of an outside perspective on worst-judging this stuff. That said. I love this show. This is really, really good TV. The writing, at times, is stupefyingly beautiful. And it is in that writing-beauty where I have discovered something hidden. The problem is worst-writer didn’t know at first what to call the hidden. Since I’ve spent almost a quarter century speaking a second language, every once-a-once I can find a German word to describe what I can’t find in English. The word that comes to mind when trying to figure out what to call The Sopranos is Verarschung. Without generalising too much about languages, there are times when German complexity suits the situation just fine. Here a worst-writer translation of the word Verarschung which brought me to the English word I was looking for:

  • To mock
  • To kid around
  • To pull the wool over
  • To muck about
  • To joke at someone else’s expense
  • Are you fuckin’ wid’ me?
  • To play him/her for a sucker/fool
  • Take him/her for the proverbial ride, etc.


Dark Humour Politics

Ok, maybe I’m stretching things a bit. And I shouldn’t try to categorise this show. I mean, it is a break-thru, right? It’s obviously complex and full of plot and the critics have gone wild over it. Besides, watching this show almost ten years after it ended is an indication of how long I’ve been out of the American (TV) loop. Or maybe it is an indication how little TV I watch and am therefore NOT susceptible to Kool-Aid washing away the subtleties that define this show. Let me repeat that: The Sopranos, as an American TV series, as a break-thru art-form, is only defined by its subtleties and some very, very special sauce. Add to that that this show is hi-larry-us and at the same time unbelievably political and socially critical (so much for defining the special sauce, eh). It incorporates all this by disguising its politics behind a stereotype and filtering/sifting everything else through the American collective reality distortion field and then packaging it all in the obsessive and compulsive nature of today’s America. A perfect backdrop (0r front-drop) for Mafia story telling. I mean, is there any other story genre that Americans love more? Is it the rags to riches genre? Or what about the underdog genre? Heck, remember Rocky? That film was all the above.

And so. This is some of the most incredible TV I’ve ever seen where the American Dream is portrayed but it’s NOT fiction. For the first time The Sopranos TV show is the embodiment of the fail-upwards greed mongering of the Baby Boomer generation galore at 16:9 HD (after the first season, of course). After the fourth seasons I’m worst-wondering if the writers of this show were aware of what they created. But smart people with all this success don’t just get lucky. Or do they? No they don’t. But those same smart people may have filtered some of what they’ve learned from the world to make this such a success. Indeed. The Sopranos is the first American form of dark humour comparable to the French Les Guignols de l’info or British Monty Python. With that in mind, may Euro-influenced caricature, political and social satire rule the future of American TV.


Obviously, comparing The Sopranos to French political comedy doesn’t work. The Monty Python comparison won’t hold up in a debate either. So let me just worst-say this: The Sopranos is a mockery (Verarschung). But it is not a mockery of the Mafia or TV. No. It is a mockery of America and Americans. This show portrays what every patriarchal American household dreams of ever since Ben Franklin spent spring break with Thomas Jefferson and both fought over who invented the wet t-shirt contest, which is the forerunner to all beauty pageants, and, considering where we are today, proof that everything else they invented is now a mockery. Or didn’t you know that about the wet t-shirt contest? And don’t forget. America doesn’t evolve. We devolve and we do it very successfully. So shut the fuck up. And. When will America reveal humanity’s inner-ape?

Enter Tony Soprano. The American Alfa-Male with a silver back and a dream mansion in New Jersey. Oh. And to keep the dipshit audience laughing, don’t forget ape-mans psychological counselling where Freud mother-complexes shine and he can address his hot therapist as slut, cunt and bitch without recourse. Yeah, baby. “Therapy” is the perfect dark humour form of confession. And we Americans love confessions. For it allows us to be forgiven (and held politically and socially unaccountable) for our sins. And so. The Sopranos is/was our confessional. Pretty cool what Mafia story telling had in-store for us, eh? And you know what else they say about confessions, don’t you worst-reader? That’s right. While in that confessional no one can hear you except…

Ok. Even though I might be disrespectful, I don’t wish to be blasphemous. I suppose I should steer away from involving the Church in this worst-post. So here a short list of the entertaining dysfunction that is The Sopranos mirror of American’t:

  • Like a child, when confronted with doing something wrong, deny it. That’s right. Just deny all the murdering, the cheating, the lying. Denying is good for the soul while that soul has yet to die. And the way Tony goes about lying, now that is some hi-larry-us-leefunny stuff.
  • Learn your history from The History Channel. Think you know history because your parents come from the rot of the old country? Don’t worry. Like Tony and his “family” you are a soldier of god of your own arrogant, misogynist, mother fucking, cock-sucking making.
  • Prozac. Better living through chemicals, baby.
  • Obsessive compulsive behaviour with desperate women incapable of recognising ugly. Just get married and if you can’t get married, pretend. Women must be hot in order to get married. Husband ugly which is ok if you got money. Nothing more real than that.
  • The Baby Boomer generation. Hoodlum dreams that reward underachievement, horde all that’s left for the future and prove that crime is the last resort to getting paid. Worst-writer does not like Boomers.
  • Has anybody ever seen people eat so much on TV before? Feel good food for a rotten soul, baby.
  • Dysfunction manifest in the dirty sperm-spawn of post godfather part IV.5 forever.
  • Etc.


One more thing about this “break-thru” show. I almost cried as much as I laughed while watching it. Reason? I’ve already faced the mirror.

RIP James Gandolfini.


Rant on.



There is a culture worth not forgetting. Especially when you know that culture is being forced to reach its end. For you see. There is an alternate universe to the baby boomer war-mongers that are going to be our demise. Indeed. There was once a group of hippies, even though some weren’t exactly hippies. Well. They were tech hippies. And. They changed the world. Also. They became a culture. A fruity culture. A culture not to fear. A fruit (of life and achievement) named Woz. And the Woz fruit was eaten. And the Woz voice was not heard. It’s really a scam what’s going on in the western world right now driven by the ethos of post nine-one-one American’t. But what are we (who think differently) gonna do? I’m not sure. But I know this. If it weren’t for Woz, I never would have rented that Segway just to see how cool it really is. Thanks for everything Woz! You will forever change the world.

Rant on.


N-Word Luv

Some thoughts motivated after watching Quentin Tarantino’s Django Unchained.

Anyone want to know how to ruin a potentially good spaghetti western? I suppose the same applies for ruining a (less) potentially good spaghetti world war 2 movie. And why you’re watching both, it’s probably a good thing if you don’t know much about two things. One is history and the other is why, in America, certain words flaunted are probably not appropriate because when used inappropriately those words trivialise something that is über important. Two recent movies have proven that Quentin Tarantino is brilliant at trivialising things. He’s also a great film maker. Wait. Contradiction? Pause. More on his film making in a worst-second.

Since I’m on the subject of trivialisation, a few worst-lines about worst-me. I like being middle-aged. One reason for that is I can’t wait to get old. With out soliciting boo-whos, my youth really, really sucked and the whole idear of getting old is quite comforting. Also. I believe that the best thing about life is that even though most are born into it alone and with nothing, it has one free gift for everybody: you get to leave it the same way you entered it. Alone. Hooray! That means life is a grand comforter, the cutest puppy, delicious booz or favourite dessert only so that you can choke, suffocate, have a stroke or heart attack and then, finally, depart. Alone. But there’s something else. It’s all the other stuff between being born alone and dying alone. For example. Young people. I feel really bad for young people today. I wonder if there are any other parents out there that feel the same way. Of course none of them can feel the same as worst-writer. Part of the problem is, most parents believe–this claim is based on their actions–that children are property. And so. Every new generation must scramble their mind and body more than the previous generation. Hence the continuation and perpetuation of western idiocracy. But is there somehow hope out there? Hope for a new & improved consume to survive world?


Ah. The pressure(s) that young people have today. Pressure due to misconstrued biology and bottomless mind-pits full of all-things uncreative, bureaucratic, meritless and driven mostly by greed and hate. It’s no wonder that young people have to grow up with texting, youtube, red bull, Facebook, Pringles and Quentin Tarantino. But let’s also not forget sexting or learning about sex thru internet porn and all that contrasted with parents that are stuck in a world of lights-out, under the covers, embarrassment, door locked, pretend you’re not doing cartwheels with her and finally, ooops, i’m pregnant. Talk about misconstrued biology, eh. When is Tarantino gonna make a movie about all that? It seems like a subject-matter that he could deal with much better than… Nonevermind.


I reckon what young people have to deal with these days is both admirable and pitiful. When I was young and my parents were young, it was all just pitiful. Boo-fuckin’-who, eh! But I must ask: are times changing? Have things progressed? Neverevermind. The question I really want to ask is: Will there ever be a time where young people aren’t slaves to old people? Or should I replace “old people” with “the past”? In other words, as an American, is it possible to trivialise slavery and racism? As a parent I take comfort in one thing. I’ve been completely honest with my son. Honesty and truth is my counter to the lies and shame that was given me having been born of a certain past. I have told my son and will continue to tell him: do not be like your father, do not be like your grandparents, think for yourself, be your own man, care, love, etc. Who knows if that will ever lead to anything. Indeed. I’ve learned that children are a gift that parents do not deserve. Shame we don’t treat them better, shame we really don’t respect them, shame we can’t offer them something better than this.


Which brings me to Django Unchained. My son wanted to see the movie and I didn’t. I was pissed-off after watching Inglorious Bastards because that movie trivialised certain aspects of ww2 that made it silly. (SPOILER ALERT: A Jewish suicide bomber kills Adolf Hitler? Please.) Once I started reading reviews of this new spaghetti movie-making endeavour, motivation waned. Like I said, if you know nothing about history and perhaps you like movies that should ultimately be comics (or something like that), then check out Django or anything Tarantino. That said, there is no doubt that the man makes entertainment. Heck, I’ll even admit that Quentin Tarantino is a great film maker–as long as you look at it as a craft. He certainly makes hits. But I never liked Alfred Hitchcock films either. (Not that the two are even comparable.) My quarrel with Tarantino is the content and mis-direction of his stories and characters that he seems to dump in the lap of a very young and influential audience. Is that the parent in me coming thru? Tarantino makes it more and more obvious that since we live in such confused times, times driven by greed and fear and hate and violence, that such a maker and grand story teller should choose the easy route of trivialisation.

Great Characters.

Tarantino movies all have one or two characters that make them worthwhile. In Pulp Fiction it was Harvey Keitel as The Cleaner. In Inglorious Basterds it was Christoph Waltz who played a Nazi even though his Nazi was less a Nazi then the whack-job played by Angelina Jolie’s husband. And in Django, Tarantino obviously saw the light and got Christoph Waltz to do it all over again. But this time he got Waltz to be a sympathetic German who was also part of the Abolitionists that saw the light regarding a fledgling country’s true nature and intentions. And so. Before the movie began, I once again told my son about the world I grew up in and the N-Word. For most of the movie and its N-Word I did ok. Waltz’s character worked as a cushion for all the portrayal of my heritage’s hate. Tarantino really created a jewel with Dr. Shultz. But then something happened. During the negotiating dinner at Calvin Candie’s house, adolescent albeit southern hospitality table manners suddenly became the voice of Hollywood and perhaps the hidden true nature of a film maker. Candie, played by Leonardo DeCaprio, teases Dr. Schultz about his affection toward women with darker skin.

Candie to Dr. Schultz: “You might have caught yo-self a little dose of nigga-luv. Nigga-luv is a powerful emotion, boy. Mmmm. It’s like a pile of black tar that once it catches yo ass…”

Did he just say “tar”? It’s one thing to trivialise both slavery and racism but does he have to do the same to luv? Heck, I could have even gotten through the trivialisation of two people with different coloured skin gettin’ it on. But to then throw in the word “tar” as the element that brings two people together, that literally sticks them together? You’ve got to be kidding me! Add to that the fact that a slave holding white man in 1858 Mississippi knows anything about the elixir and afro-disiaq qualities of tar…? No. Sorry. The text makes no sense. Tarantino couldn’t come up with something better? Were there no people reading the script before he filmed it? Or. Perhaps. Someone is a little bit obsessed and preoccupied with the N-Word and is then at a loss for all other possible words. Ok. Maybe I’m nitpicking. But then again, worst-writer could have done it better.


Worstwriter is a child of parents, that is true. But my parents were not human. Therefore I was hatched. Who then were the ones that kept my egg warm, you ask. Well. Their names were Racism and The Cold War. Here I will only focus on Racism, for he was a grand old bitch, with a little example of how he tried to raise me. During my first day of middle school in suburban hell American’t we were all sitting in the gym waiting to be given instructions regarding our indoctrination. This included various speeches by teachers, handouts for class schedules, assigning lockers and even a short film about Duck & Cover. When the teacher(s) left us alone, a young boy, who was sitting one level below me on the bleachers, stood up, turned around and bitch-slapped me. My first reaction was complete and utter fear. My second reaction was to not piss my pants. The young man was black and I had no idear what I did to motivate him to do what he did. But he, obviously, had a motivation. I remember him vividly. He was a beautiful young man with light brown skin, freckles around his nose and his hair was more dark brown than black. He was the same height as me but perhaps a little thinner. He wore brown pants and a dark green shirt with short sleeves. And up to that point in my life, other than his race, he was just like most other boys that I got into fights with over nothing. But was this nothing? I didn’t shoot the back of his head with spit balls out of a straw. I didn’t whisper worst-sweet-nothings about his clothes in his ear. And I most certainly didn’t say anything about who we were, where we came from and what toothpaste preferences we had. All I did was just sit there, trying to control my freaked-out bladder, I had yet to fight a black boy. Luckily. Nothing else happened. And I suppose he did what he had to do. There were a few taunts by other kids who had seen his deed, but all-in-all, silence, shock and total regression into myself was what got me through that horrible indoctrination. Years later I learned that what I experienced that morning was not unusual. Check out the first few minutes of Henry Rollins vid below.

First two minutes of this vid are relevant to this post. Henry is relevant to everything beyond this post.

Fortunately that young man and I continued with greetings and a few handshakes all the way through High School. Unfortunately we never became anything else and we never talked about what was between us. Somehow, through all those years, that moment belonged to us. But it never really connected us. I suppose to this day, having been traumatized by such an event, that’s the only thing I’m really bitter about. But at least it set me down a path of higher knowledge regarding what my white American heritage was truly about. I knew, because one of my parents was Racism, that what this young man was bitch-slapping wasn’t just me. He helped me realise that there is a lot of wisdom in the fact that children cannot choose their parents but more importantly we can also not choose our history. A slap is great way to realise that. But. At least. Just before we were both about to graduate High School, this young man and I exchanged a few words. That exchange went something like this:

Tommi: Hey Cornelius, congratulations. You made it. 

Cornelius: Thanks, Tom. Congratulations to you, too. 

Tommi: Thanks. Say. You remember that slap?

Cornelius: In middle school? Yeah.

Tommi: My baby sister could slap better than that. 

Cornelius: Oh yeah…

And so. It is heart wrenching to see people my age, who grew up different but the same as me, doing things that trivialise something so important and they do it on such a massive scale. Race and slavery have yet to be dealt with. Heck, we haven’t even begun to deal with the American Indian. So the slippery slope of time progresses and it makes me uncomfortable when something as important as our history is trivialised–which is just like telling a lie. Way to go Quentin. Many thanks to Henry Rollins. And…

At least I’ve been honest with my son.



Rant on.



Oh Well vs Orwell

As the world turns and a once great-country-by-example continues down its self-chosen, self-perpetuating slippery slope of totalitarianism, I lose the ability to shake & shiver. I’ve become numb. Also. It takes a lot for worst-writer to be at a loss of worst-words but this whole NSA surveillance thing has blown the roof off of everything. I honestly don’t know where to turn anymore. Each time I think I’ve gotten a hold of what’s actually going on since The Guardian and Glenn Greenwald broke the story last week, something even weirder happens. And the worst thing about it all is that it’s nothing new.

Below is a vid of a congressman explaining the situation to the America public and all I could think of while he talked was that most people are probably going around saying “Oh Well” to this whole thing. That is exactly what happens when “democracy” is replaced with an authoritarian corporate oligopoly that dictates the terms & conditions of one having to live in a consume to survive society lead by the fiction of war-on-this or war-on-that. But that’s neither here nor there. What I really wanted to say in the worst-post is that this whole ordeal is truly mind-boggling. I don’t think even Hollywood would have scripted this. Yet it’s all so inorganic that something had to create it. But what? Is this scandal a byproduct of American’t dysfunction ad absurdum? Or is this proving that, after so many years of obscene political rigamarole, that this is all Americans can do: try to sustain a system that is so out-of-whack that it’s now impossible to correct anything. Yeah, baby. And Thank Barry Obama for giving the blind leading blind new hope.



Rant on.


Incest Uncle Fascist

“Every generation imagines itself to be more intelligent than the one that went before it, and wiser than the one that comes after it.” -George Orwell

When I think of American Fascism I think of old uncles. Hill-billy uncles. The thing about uncles is, there are good uncles and there are bad uncles. The above quote from George Orwell, who is, IMHO, a good uncle, has something to do with not repeating the past but also somehow being a bit too smart for our own britches regarding the future. Now get this. Britches make me think of bad uncles. Yeah. It reminds me of all things redneck, ignorant, beguiling and most importantly, fascist. I reckon it’s a good thing we live in these gluttonous times. We’re able to somehow block out those bad uncles. And. There’s really no way to pass on britches like we used to do when hill-billy uncles ran around having their way with things that oink and are waiting for a very close cousin to appear so that he could be given some pants, I mean britches. And so (1). In gluttony and less hill-billy life we are forced to live, to galavant and beguile anew. And so (2). We renew the intellect of the hill-billy-uncle in us all. And why not? This new uncle is shinier and has all his teeth and no one seems to need britches anymore as he stands before us, smiling, whispering how pretty our mouths look. Nomatter.

This is our progress. And when renewing anew isn’t enough, we can do what uncle Ronald Reagan told us to do. Don’t think about the political fanaticism that surrounds us and rules us. Just do what uncle says and only your soul be hurt. You’ll then qualify for him to bring you his britches. For he knows best and you believe it so and you want those britches. So. Close an eye to it and go on about your useless-eating, purchase-on-credit renewed hill-billy life. His insertion is upon us. Forget about government, about law making and about the individuals and the true ideologies that they embody. For the day will come, after you’ve consumed more than you know what to do with, where things like the Patriot Act, executive branch over-reach and a legislature unable to differentiate fascism from we-the-people will have become one with you, like that uncle.

Full stop. Start over.

I know. I know. I shouldn’t call the American government fascist. Nor should I lackadaisically associate incestuous behaviour with it. But then again, the seed was planted just after 9/11 and it never actually had any time to germinate. And. The result of not so much the actual planting of the seed, but instead the planting of the idear-seed, is the thing worst-motivating me this morn, dear worst-reader. For. Yes. It is true. After being planted the seed did become a tree. But, again, it did so without germination. The seed went poof and it was a full grown, ready-made, fascist tree. But underneath the label… was/is it a good tree? Or was/is it an evil, single toothed uncle tree? You would think that Americans would wake up to all the over-reach legislation post 9/11 but obviously, instead, we are preoccupied with other, more important stuff. Does the thing that uncle government does to us feel so good that we forget what/who he really is? Or who we really are? Ah, the floodgates unleashed by Herr Conservative, Herr Reagan, Dubya and now the newest and most improve-ist, Obama. They have all beguiled us to new ends by their witty means. By closing eyes and minds to what’s happening around us, these men of embodiment overwhelm and they win. The only consolation our having so many winners in government is that our incestuous behaviour toward one another has been curbed. The inbreeding has almost ended. To deal with this behaviour we have turned to the wonders of consuming. Blinded by credit cards. Overwhelmed by ka-ching. There is change and there is hope. The bad uncle is not gone but he may have taken a break or run out of gel.

Half stop. Start over.

The real shame of what the US Government is unabashedly doing today is that it cannot change the unthought-through legislative course it set in motion as a reaction to 9/11. It’s behaviour since makes me think of all things incestuous. I know that probably sounds weird if not downright sick. But what the hell. And so. We (American’ts) continue to legislate and govern based on fear, ignorance and paranoia. Like when we were locked in that barn shack waiting for uncle fun to return. We continue on a path of untruth thereby facilitating the slippery slope of an authoritarian state. At least uncle brought along enough gel. And. Has anyone really stood up to take notice of this, to give it a second thought or four? Of course, a nation afraid of uncles is a very good submissive nation. But then again…

Perhaps Bernie Sanders (see vid below) is one of the only people to stand up and speak out. But why are there so few (in uncle government-ville) that speak out against the evil that is screwing us all? At the least, America believes, with a naive and corrupt heart and eyes that cannot see, that the Patriot Act is to protect and serve. Other than a few people (and moi) no one has ever talked about getting rid of this awful, fascist, authoritarian legislation that literally is counter to all that is and should be sacred in the great American experiment. And so, we go about our consume to survive lives and believe we are protected from bad uncles or guys trying to blow up airplanes with über-firecrackers in their underwear. Beyond that. To get away from our bad uncles for the weekend, we assume the position of imbecile travellers submissively bent over in airports that require us to remove shoes, belts and then allowing minimum wage earners from the sub-division of Homeland-Uncle, the TSA, to cop-a-feel. Yea, that’s how bad uncles do it.

Things are so ludicrous right now in America that obviously no one can find the time or will to sift through what is the cause of our demise. And now it’s been revealed that the NSA, the wet-dream of sissy conservatives, chicken-hawk war-mongers and delusion-ists par excellence, has been freely spying on ALL Americans thereby subverting the constitution and the fourth amendment. Indeed. The NSA and the government’s behaviour is very natural in an authoritarian state. So why try to figure it out? We’ve lived this long with a horny uncle getting ready to pass on to the next generation that same old pair of britches everyone wants.

Good luck suckers.


Rant on.


Update (later in the afternoon). Here’s another vid from TYT about this mess:

What's The Big Deal

apple tax evasionIn a parallel universe far, far away there is a parallel Marie Antoinette, who is both a grand queen and a successful HR executive in a parallel corporation, yelling at the voter-pawns below her Chateau balcony made of mahogany, gold and Apple iPad aluminium scraps. While simultaneously practicing the skill of sucking golf balls thru a garden hose–you know, the skill required to keep a king as husband–she yells:

“Oh!” She waves her free hand in the air, lifting her swollen lips from the end of the hose. “I say… (short pause) to my human resources below…. (long pause), let them… (shorter pause than before), let them pay taxes and forget the cake.”

Of course, the italics is interpreted different ways in the parallel universe scholar circles. But most agree that she is referring to voter-pawns in a very condescending way. Go figure.

But seriously. What’s the big deal? A CEO has appeared before you. And not long ago another CEO appeared before you. Indeed. Wasn’t the whole BS a few years back about GE (2010?) not paying taxes enough? Or is the real issue that the united mistakes congress has to somehow show its voting-pawns that it’s actually doing something. To a voting-pawn it doesn’t matter here or there if what they are being shown is big crock of dodo pellets. But then again, the freak show the congress put up this month, licking the shaved mini coconuts of Steve Jobs Heir-Apparent and pseudo CEO Tim Cook, was embarrassing. It wasn’t embarrassing for Apple or the Mr. Rogers look-alike that Cook is (has become). No. It was yet again embarrassing for the voter-pawns. That’s right. Das dysfunctional Volk that believes to the core of its over stuffed bellies and lazy-boyz that it’s #1 has yet to actually realise that what Apple is doing, along with all the other globalised entities of the New World Silly Putty Order, is what voter-pawns have been voting for all their lives. The American’t political and economic machine is well greased these days. It is a well tuned V-8 that rolls on the fuel of laurels and it is perfect at taking advantage of idiotic voter-pawns. Yes. The machine told those voter-pawns things that made eyes cry, chests get pumped and emotions driven to new highs. The voter-pawns fell for it all hook-line-sinker and to this day no one has a clue about what has happened. But socialism and communism has been deflated… I mean: defeated. And so, bring mister metro-male, mister perfectly manicured CEO to the floor of the House of Representatives. Let him be praised, given a few tech service questions and then some more praise before the after hour party-worship begins. For it is the after-hour congressional party and only that party where any congressional dunce can make a direct inquiry regarding the keys and whereabouts of John Galt’s Gulch. Rule and govern on, suckers.

All worst-kidding aside. The big deal about Apple and any other corporation’s ability to off-shore money is that it achieves more than paying fewer taxes. It achieves putting the burden, i.e. the cost of a country on the shoulders of someone else. And so I wonder/think about the wars supposedly fought to protect Apple (and fucking Steve Jobs) so it can do what it does. And now the country sits around lavishing in austerity, a middle-class has been purged and will never again have what has been stolen from it. But does anyone care about that complexity? Hell no, mothafucka. Now get yo dirty stickin paws off my iPhone.

Article links:


Rant on.


Going Down


Denial. Repression. Avoidance. Lie. Project. Ah, growing up in American’t. Where would I be today if it weren’t for the child rearing that moulded me? But more on that in minute. I’m kinda pissed at the recent headlines regarding Michael Douglas trying to sell his new movie Behind The Candelabra. The thing is, my mom used to watch Liberace on American TV all the time. He would either be featured as a guest on some variety show or he’d have a show of his own. The man was truly loved on the boob-tube! Of course, at the time (60s, 70s), Liberace’s sexuality was never an issue because 1) where I come from no one ever talked about being gay, and 2) his extravagance represented everything sexually repressed Americans lusted after–in silence, of course. It wasn’t until his death from AIDS, followed only two years later by Rock Hudson’s death, that the whole gay thing became not-so-repressed dinner table chatter. Indeed. It was that lust of silence in closets or under covers, with locked doors, forced entries or forced jerk-offs and the ultimate take the pain until he’s finished, that moulded many a youths perspective on sex in America. I guess with all that it’s no wonder Americans love their guns and their violence and their horror. Nomatter. The truth for me is, looking back, gayness was everywhere–and not just on TV. Growing up in sexual repression is indeed an abhorrent experience. It is a cesspool environment that breeds abuse on a grand scale. In fact, I’m convinced that it is exactly this abuse that is the reason baby boomers have ruined everything in American’t today. I’ll even go so far as claiming that baby-boomers are probably the greatest generation of child abusers in human history–forget the whole Catholic priest thing. And this is all because baby boomers are a bunch of reactionary sexually repressed monsters. But I don’t want to get to far off topic.

The recent barrage of headlines regarding Michael Douglas’ potty-mouth has an air of trivialisation and superficiality to it that demands explanation. I’m convinced that there is something extreme and deep that Douglas is trying to hide by making such a dubious and frat-boy comment that serves only the projection of what he thinks is his heterosexuality. Now don’t get me wrong here. I’m not saying because Douglas plays a promiscuous gay man and kisses Matt Damon that he is gay. Sean Penn in Milk did the same thing. Yet ask any gay man what turns him off the most. I’ll bet you licking a vagina is at the top of his list. That said, I could give a hoot what Douglas’ preferences are. My gripe at this moment is that he is obviously a sexually repressed man and he has yet to come to terms with that and I don’t feel like putting up with his immaturity regarding the issue which borders trivialising cancer. To say something as ignorant as cunnilingus causes throat cancer is mind-boggling at best and silly at worst. For one thing, is Douglas blaming women for his cancer? Or is he potentially blaming his own promiscuity? Wasn’t he caught up in a scandal before marrying Zeta Jones about being addicted to sex? Of course, there need be no mention of his own personal behaviour that involved making too much luv to cigarettes and alcohol. Indeed. Who knows what. What I do know is that Michael Douglas is a boomer and he is of a generation that taught both repression and abuse. The state of the world today proves that. I only wish that Liberace could have been kept out of this.



Rant on.


Money Explained

Stand Still Like The Hummingbird by Henry Miller

We’ve all been there. (I hope.) The moment where text is before you and you’re not sure what will come of it. So you read on and before you know it, what you read starts to drift off the edge of something and it all becomes a Dali painting. Happened to me all the time in school. All that industrial learning krapp that they put before my mind. You know how they say you have to find your voice? A voice for singing or preaching or forging steel? One also has to find his voice when it comes to writing–or as in my case–worst-writing. But I want to expand on that. Not only does one have to find his voice so that birds may sing but he also must do it in order to fill the mind. What voice will fill the mind? Finding the stuff that my mind wants me to read is just like finding a voice to sew the seeds of nevermore but not quite like Elvis sang. Which means that it would take a long time before I would find the voice required to make my mind (want to) read. But when I found her she was as grand as the repetitiveness of most forms of intercourse. Ah, desire. But leaving procreation aside. Henry Miller is the man. And this particular work of his proves that. A book of essays about life and what Henry thinks. And speaking of repetitiveness. I always foundHenry’s thick novels to be somewhat repetitive. That is not a criticism, I love them for it. They are brilliant but somehow similar. And on the seventh day he made it good. Nomatter. Henry’s cynical take on money from the essay “Money and How It Gets That Way” is wonderful. It should be required reading for bankers and politicians. Now there’s the ticket. Solve the world’s problem by making them read (study) Henry Miller.

Rant (and read) on.