schreib dein buch

Alt title: worst-writer lessons in un-understanding Deutsch

There it is again, dear worst-reader (see pic above). Although it’s happening less than it happened, say, twenty years ago–on account there was a time I was, let’s say, more hopeful, wishful, dreamy, etc., it still happens now-n-then. Like a grain amongst a ton-bag of salt. I mean. Language is a bitch, dear worst-reader. Let me not even start on how my German better-half can sometimes forget that she’s not talking to a native. She certainly knows my facial gestures or body signals when she starts rambling on about this or that and I’m like… “Did you just make up your own German? Cause I don’t understand a fcuking word you just said.” Of course, she attributes my inability to understand her language to my ageing ears. And that may be the case. Although I think my hearing is better than hers and she does, sometimes, have the cutest but highly distracting lisp. #Nomatter. There’s still a whole bunch of German out there that I don’t get–which is the reason I’m currently re-reading Kafka’s Der Prozess. But one thing I do get is when a German is being sarcastic, facetious, teasing, low-down, or, as the Brits might put it, taking the piss out. The thing is, that sort of stuff ain’t really in the German mentality. You know. Order. Train schedules. Achtung! That may or may not be the reason Germans ain’t very funny. But. Again. #Nomatter. It might also be why so many Germans are simply incapable of smiling–unless they’re a blonde, blue-eye looking for a husband/wife. Again. #Nomatter. So here’s the thing, dear worst-reader. I passed by my local bus stop the other day and have long since trained myself to NOT pay much attention to its advertising, which is usually for cigarettes. But this time… Damn. It caught my attention. Why? Well, get this, baby. Could it be that the Germans are fcuking with me1? You know, that maybe, somehow, they know that I’m a failed writer that has long since giving up on being published, discovered or even paid a dime for my efforts. Yeah. They know that I have a few novels sitting around just waiting to be finished (or burnt). And considering the state of theatre in this country since it never accepted any of my plays…? So when I see an advert at a bus stop telling Germans to write your book, I’m like… Oh really! You mean. Just sit down and write, like hundreds of thousands of words, pages, and nonsense and then use some company to become Salmon Rushdie? Please.

Ich kann mich doch selber verarschen.

The German word Verarschung is tough to translate. But once you understand the language–as I do, even though some of the stuff my wife says doesn’t ring a bell, then you don’t bother translating at all. And so. To come across such an advert like this… as a failed writer… as worst-writer… well….

Rant on, baby.


  1. My translation of the German word “Verarschung”. ↩︎

Summary Demise

hiding in plain sight cover

Pseudo-Review: Hiding In Plain Sight by Sarah Kendzior.

Cliffsnotes, dear worst-reader. Maybe that’s the ticket to understanding what happened to my beloved & missed #Americant since the advent of political stupidity and the election of a two-bit actor for president–oh so many years ago. But enough re-hashing of the good’ole days, eh. Haven’t we all had enough of The Ronald? As in, Ronald Reagan (and not Ronald McDonald)? But before you bite into the delicious pseudo-burger I’m preparing for ya… Let’s get on with The Donald aka President Pee-Pee-Hair–the friendly antithesis of The Ronald in this #Americant $hitshow of greed-galore.

Or maybe not.

The original thought for this worst-post was to make an analogy to Cliffsnotes and there being a pretty good summary out there for those who want to understand things. You know. Something like… Everyone needs a good summary of what it is that’s bothering him/her in order to figure out what the heck is going on–in #Americant politics–so the whole $hitshow can be fixed. I mean, ain’t that what Cliffsnotes are for? Cheating. As in. Cheating–for the greater good? Or? Then again. Figuring things out without actually learning anything–in a life of multiple-choice testing? Ain’t that how so many #Americants got their so-called edumacations and careers, especially college edumacations, and have subsequently guided the $hitshow down the road it’s on as though it and everything within it was nothing but a bad wizard of oz musical?

We’re off to see the…

Let me start again, dear worst-reader.

Sarah Kendzior’s book Hiding In Plain Sight is like a summary (CliffsNotes) of President Stupid and how he came to be–wihtout having to read any history. Except. Of course. In her summary she’s missing one big thing. That is, one big thing is missing in her book and it’s not unlike what everyone else misses in their attempt to figure out (CliffsNotes) what the hell is going on. Of course, I don’t blame Sarah for missing the biggest part of what made #Americant elect such a buffoon. Then again, the same #Americants did elect that other buffoon, Dubya, don’t you know. And just so we’re clear here. Barry-O and Bill Blowjob Clinton were not buffoons. And that’s the ticket, ain’t it, dear worst-reader? A good summary of buffoon-hood might be just enough to send whoever over the edge of knowing a bit more than he or she knew before thanks to faux newz, Rush Limbaugh, and the love of being really, really, really STUPID. Indeed. When it comes to knowing something… about politics… Don’t ask an #Americant.

But let us digress.

Hiding In Plain Sight is nothing less than brilliant–if you’re interested in understanding some of the stupidity behind not just #Trump but also what he stands for, how he actually raped his first wife Invana, and, where necessary, as little as possible about his ugly, disgusting and perfectly distracting clown hair. With that in worst-mind, Sarah Kendzior codifies from begin to end the political life and times of President Stupid–and what he really is. And she does it in about four hundred or so pages. From my POV that means #Trump is a thin book with an ugly hair-do-cover but Sarah is smarter than most to be able to make it all palatable. If I could afford it I’d buy hundreds of copies of this book and hand them out to everyone I see–while wearing gloves, a face mask, and after spraying each book with a bit of #Trump disinfectant.

So what’s missing in this book–and what’s missing in most summary’s (CliffsNotes) of what gave the world The Donald aka #Americant? As I’ve said through out this worst-blog, the thing that must not be forgotten or overlooked is the class system that voted for this guy, especially the ignorant and greedy middle-class that thinks/believes it is the chosen people. Too few actually call this class out, of course. I mean. Obviously. To call out this class of greed mongering gluttons… is nothing short of blasphemy. Hence, welcome to my expatriate world of worst-writing. And so. Faux-Newz does have an audience, or? Limbaugh & Co. has been talking to someone all these years. Am I wrong? #MAGA hats sell well, don’t you know.

The #okboomer generation is filled with closeted haters and bigots and spite-rearing automatons all of whom are reflected in the #Trump mirror. Add to that the fact that these people feel as though the world owes them… Indeed. What a mirror $hitshow. But how many actually look at the/their mirror? The last number I heard was sixty-two million. Sixty-two million greed mongers, who, like #Trump, have never been able to grow-up and out of the shadow of their parentage, voted for this guy because, well, they hate women, they don’t understand the difference between newz and propaganda like Joseph Goebbels does, and they never read It Can’t Happen Here, or anything else intellectual. Indeed. Of course. The other number is sixty-five million. That’s the number that voted for Hillary. But get this, dear worst-reader. Sixty-two million haters, bigots, greed-mongers combined with faux newz is obviously a lot more powerful than sixty-five million (plus the eight to ten million smart-asses that voted “independent”) who are obviously trapped in the rainbow of a unicorns arse. In fact, sixty-two million is enough to overlook, as Sarah & Co. do, because there are so many fascinating details about one man, his hair, and that mouth that looks just like an anus puckering atop a golden toilet jut before it expels a huge…

As good as this book is, it fails to call-out the real problem–just like everything/everyone else out there that think they have answers about my beloved & missed #Americant. So take a seat, dear worst-reader, and give my answers a go.

Or maybe not.

There is at least two generations of #Americants that have lived an unearned life of luxury and status unseen in all of human history. Hence the Disney/McDonalds/CocaCola/War nationalistic vernacular of exceptional, #MAGA, that hair, etc. And when I worst-say unearned, I mean: considering the state of debt-economics1 in #Americant today, it’s no wonder that all these people can do is either vote for more greed or more war or just hate women–as the likes of faux newz spews the only truth they know. Indeed. And so. These generations of #Americants have hell-to-pay, which is reason enough to have a mindless moron with yellow cotton-candy pee-pee-hair as… their a new & improved #MAGA-hat dear leader. What else are these millions of greed mongers to do?

Seriously. Someone. Please. Get rid of faux newz. Otherwise. All those who/that come after, will just learn to disguise their… pee-pee hair.

But before I get too far off on worst-writer’s ranting and raving about who and what worst-moi is, what I believe, and what I ran away from, let me get back to this great summary (CliffsNotes) of what/who #Trump is. Sarah Kendzior has put together a must-read for anyone that is willing and able to give President Pee-Pee-Hair a second look. For those who already hate the guy, there’s not much here. And even though I grew up with #Trump and already know what kind of idiot he and his NYC ilk really are, I’m glad that Sarah Kendzior wrote this book. It relieves me of some of the pain of being an expatriate #Americant on the verge of relinquishing my citizenship due to the ugliness and disgust I ran away from.

The only question that remains with me, and, of course Sarah Kendzior can’t answer, is what’s next for the sixty-two plus sixty-five million that are capable of this much blatant and outright gun-toting, nuclear warhead, stupidity?

Good luck suckers.

Rant and read on.


  1. Economic debt being synonymous with riding on the backs of others because, well, you can’t do anything for yourself, etc. ↩︎

While Walking And Dreaming

Had a heck of time the other morn, dear worst-reader. As usual, I begin one of three walks a day with Beckett, the killer pug, at around eight in the A.M. After that I feed him and let him sleep until a bird stirs him awake around noon and he barks so loud that babies in quarantine two blocks away wake up. Should I mention how his sudden bursts of barking almost stir me to madness? No. Seriously. There are moments when he has a barking fit that I could strangle his stupid, ugly, disgusting, non-nose hound… but at the very same moment all I really want to do is just cuddle him till his guts spill out all over me in a frantic delirium of love-joy. Or maybe not.

Among the other things seen during a given daily walk, here’s a few pics. The one to pay most attention to, of course, is the one with the Ferrari. Get a good look at that license plate holder.

I’ve been there before, don’t you know, dear worst-reader. There’s something about z’Germans, especially the wannabe rich little $hits that drive around in rented Ferraris, or overly expensive high-end SUVs, that claim they want to do something to Greta Thunberg. I’ve posted other stuff horsepower $hitbags want to do with Greta here and here. Which begs the question: why won’t the earth just eat (and then shit-out) the rich who are so blatantly 1) disrespectful and 2) douchebags?

But at least there are more pics to wonder at. For example. Even though my wife is disallowing me from having a motorcycle, which I haven’t ridden since 2001, I really want to get back on a bike. Although I’m preferring/leaning towards getting a retro Triumph, a few other brands are stirring my horsepower thoughts. For example. The bike that tickles my fancy the most right now is the KTM 790 Duke. What a bike, dudes. And to think Austrians could come up with such a middle-class two-wheeled wonder. Then again, since I’m stuck in a world of golden cage wishful thinking, and somehow know deep in my lust-gut that my wife is gonna fight it till her last breath, guilt by association follows me around forevermore and I lust for a cool two-wheeled ride. And so. While walking around. There it is. There’s a key to a Husqvarna motorclylce that someone found and kindly attached to a tree in the hopes it will be reunited with its owner. Do you see the connection here? That’s right. KTM owns Husqvarna. Which means this key on a tree is really telling me that I don’t want the Triumph. But I die-gress.

The other pic is that of a varmint I’ve been seeing in a local pond. In the three or so years I’ve been living here, and walking past that pond, I’ve never seen that critter before. He’s just above the duck, swimming across the water. There’s always been ducks, geese and swan hanging around… but a large rat-like critter with a tail longer than its body and almost as large as a swan…? #Nomatter.

The dog I love so much is doing just fine in his oncoming old age as he rests in his kingly couch. That’s right. Beckett the killer pug just turned thirteen. Or is he twelve? #Nomatter. He’s f’n barking like a madman again.

Rant on.


PS retro bike of choice–but I don’t want it in red.

retro bike of choice - triumph

The Snake

Trump loves to be caught and not be punished. Throughout the 2016 campaign, he recited the poem “The Snake,” a story of treachery that mocks the victims: “You knew damn well I was a snake before you let me in.” It is not enough for Trump to commit a crime. He needs to let you know that he got away with it. Others in his camp, like Roger Stone, share the same predilection. The thrill is in the flaunting, the in-jokes, the admissions so blunt that, perversely, few take them seriously. That’s also where the tell is, if you are working for law enforcement, but these days, federal law enforcement works for Trump.

Hiding In Plain Sight, Sarah Kendzior

Generation: Malice

I’m about fifty-two percent through the e-book version “Hiding in Plain Sight” by Sarah Kendzior, dear worst-reader. Not bad since I’m busy as bee in these days of worst-writing and corona-virus, i.e. same as it ever was when it comes to worst-writer social distancing, don’t you know. Even though a full pseudo-review of the book will follow, and I’ve already published two quotes from the book here and here, I have to let this go: what a f’n book! This chick can write, dear worst-reader. And don’t you’all love it when there’s a human out there that can write like this about everything that is so wrong with this world, doing it in a way that is whipper-snapper cool? On top of that, she most certainly nails it when it comes to creating a narrative that rips President Stupid–the commander n’ chief of pee-pee-hair–a new one. And not just President Stupid gets ripped a new one. She’s pretty dag-gone-it good a ripping all his cronies a new one, too. And don’t you know, dear worst-reader, I’m into these kinds of books. You know, books that tell the truth about my beloved & missed united mistakes of #Americant, that so many of my pseudo-comrades have missed–by remaining (with)in the $hitshow. If only I could find more of these books, eh. In fact, I recently tried Dark Towers by David Enrich but had to give up on it while reading the sample text on account, well, let’s just say he couldn’t bring me into it. Also. Let’s not forget, dear worst-reader, I did the same kinda give-up on Sarah’s first book, “The View From Flyover Country“. Now that her new book has intrigued me so much I’m more than willing to give Flyover a new look when I’m done. But will I return to Dark Towers? Nomatter.

With that bit in mind, here’s my first worst-thought that Sarah has connived me into at only half-way through her book. Malice. That it’s, dear worst-reader. The essence of Pee-Pee-Hair #Trump isn’t so much that he’s a genius or about anything involving (human) smarts to become President, it’s that he knows how to utilise malice to the point of negating the law. Although I’ve always suspected that malice played a big role in #Trump’s fail-upward success that is only possible in #Americant–or 17th or 18th century #Eurowasteland–I didn’t know it went this deep. Hence, #Trump is a byproduct of the yellow press of NYC. I suppose, coming from such a place, plus his disgusting parentage, can cause one to never consider why a fish can’t know a world without water.

But before I reveal too much worst-writing about this book, let me cease and desist and finish reading it. Till then, baby.

Rant on, baby.


Empirical Observation Of The Masses

This uncritical embrace of authority for its own sake is similar to the excuses given for the refusal of officials to address the attacks on the 2016 election in depth. (The Russians want us to distrust the integrity of the US election process, the pundit explains, therefore we must never, ever question what the Russians did to the election process!) The trustworthiness of a process or person was to be dictated from above by “history’s actors,” not decreed from below by the empirical observations of the masses. What (Karl) Rove did in that interview—and what Trump does now—was take the ruse one step further, and admit to manipulation openly, not even giving the public the illusion of an honest broker.

Hiding In Plain Sight, Sarah Kendzior

Good luck suckers.

Rant on.


End Times Hiding In Plain Sight

In the 1990s, history ended with the specter of the wealthiest men in the world raping teenage girls provided by a mafia-affiliated blackmailer. History ended in a sealed file, history ended in a silent scream, history ended with the last man warning you that if you tell anyone, you’d end too.

Hiding In Plain Sight, Sarah Kendzior

Rant on.


Allusion Delusion Collusion

scrubs protester

Come on, dear worst-reader. Are you laughing with me? Or did you miss the recent rally by #MAGA hat wearing bat$hitters in my beloved & missed united mistakes of #Americant? Perhaps it is an easy thing to miss, don’t you know. I mean, who’s really interested in watching a bunch of gun-toting white-people ranting and raving about this or that and nullifying the reality that the earth is suffering so much from their greed-mongering ignorance that a pandemic threatens all that we live for, namely consume-to-survive. Or maybe not.

Considering what’s going on in #Americant with all these “freedom” rallies that are protesting social distancing, none of these idiots would ever consider protesting something much more significant like wars-of-choice or government corruption (unless, of course, it’s about Hillary), and I’m wondering what the end game is here. Oh. Wait. Could the end-game be, simply, more STUPID?

Of course, to top things off, I love the image above of what looks like an Asian-American stopping a redneck vehicle (pick-up truck) as he protests their protests against social distancing. The morons in the truck yell at the guy something about maybe he should go back to China if he wants to be a communist, i.e. live in a country that quarantines in order to slow-down a pandemic. Even if the redneck morons are protesting what they consider “freedom” on account, well, if they miss a few weeks of work they won’t be able to make a truck payment, you would think that they could at least acquire the knowledge about how bad things are in #Americant where morons have to live life where all you’re concerned about is making a truck payment. How ’bout a protest for enabling people to save money and not live truck-payment to truck-payment? How ’bout a protest for testing and thereby funding research to deal with… Wait for it. Pandemics? How ’bout a protest against collective ignorance that keeps right-wing batshit politics running the $hitshow? But on that note, I die-gress.

Good luck suckers.

Rant on.


The stupid of “infowars” at it again and again.
– Don’t you know, there are frustrated protestors?
But nobody’s demanding the end of STUPID
– What’s behind the protests, big money, of course.
Source of the pic above?

Zombie Virus Or Just A Bad Flu

world war z cover

Pseudo-review: World War Z by Max Brooks

Note: To skip all the/my worst-writing, the actual pseudo-review of this book is just a scroll or two or thrice downwards.

And now…

Not sure if this makes since, dear worst-reader. So I appreciate you indulging me. Here’s a worst-writer fact for ya: I was never, ever afraid of horror movies as a kid. In fact, although the movie rating-system in my beloved & missed united mistakes of #Americant was not so heavily enforced at the time, I pretty much watched/saw any and every film I ever wanted to see–even before I was a teen. But my youthful rowdy behaviour is neither here nor there. For I am born and reared: #Americant, baby.

Horror films were everywhere by the late 1970s. In fact, in the whole Hollywood horror genre of my beloved & missed #Americant youth, there was nothing on the big screen–at least in the shape of monsters, goblins or ghosts, etc.–that scared me. I attribute this super-power to having faced the worst kind of childhood: loneliness and fatherlessness. Oh wait. Before I get-off on making this worst-post about my #Americant bastardisation…

By the time I could go to movies on my own, during my mid to late teens, albeit being dropped off by a parent here or there, I used to have a ball in the cinema teasing who ever I was with–especially a sister, a neighbour friend, or Chad–that older false cousin who even got me a fake ID that turned my fifteen years into eighteen. Anywho. The fun of horror movies was observing others either tremble or try not to tremble while watching The Omen, Dawn of the Dead, Halloween, etc. Of course. Later. Things got really fun for me when I started going to the movies on “dates”–as opposed to going with friendly neighbours. Scaring the “date” with a poke here or a poke there during whatever gore scene was a blast as she screamed and yelped and whined. Eventually, though. All that fun had to succumbed to cop a feel where, if timed correctly, lead to some serious second-base action–no matter what was on the big screen. But. Again. Nuff about me.

A girl went to a horror flick with me once and stayed the whole time on her knees in the row directly between my knees, mostly because she was terrified by whatever gore-fest I took her to watch. Did I trick her by saying I didn’t know it was a horror movie and thereby just happened to get the best BJ of my youthful life? Who knows. My worst-point is this: I never fell for the illusion-of-truth (verisimilitude) that was supposed to be “horror” in the realm of celluloid story telling, which wasn’t the case with other movie genres. And here’s the reason why.

I was never afeared of horror movies because fear of another kind beat it to the punch. Indeed. Blood and guts meant nothing compared to a good ol’fashion suspense-thriller. Hold a sec. Let me worst-splain. By my late teens I was an experienced hunter and fisherman. I also killed bats while cleaning tobacco barns. If you’ve never done such a thing, dear worst-reader, trust me when I say that not only killing bats is gross but hanging around where they hang around–and shit–is worst. I even put down old horses with a ten gauge shotgun once and then chainsawed off their legs in order to fit them in the back of a pick-up truck that would hall them off for glue production. With that in worst-mind, horror movies were just silly to me. Suspense movies, on the other hand, scared the living bee-gee-zees out of me. In fact, they scared me so much my mind would be boggled for days after watching one. They gave me nightmares, too. I experienced excessive sleep loss. I had #Americant anti-disney PTSD, don’t you know. And all that long before PTSD was a thing. Oh wait. Scratch that. I came of age during the end of Vietnam war. PTSD was alive and well then. It just had a different brand(ing), don’t you know. Anywho.

Fear of suspense movies, by-the-buy, made horror flicks a fun-fest for me. But put me in a huge claustrophobic movie house with a thriller with shit that could actually be real–as in real-life… Holy krapp, dear worst-reader. Yeah, I almost wet myself when a chick tricked me into going to a dollar showing of Rear Window. And so. Hence. Ever since I became a young intellectual, a pseudo-know-it-all, a wannabe well-read anti-automaton, I’ve always claimed to hate Alfred Hitchcock–even though the opposite is true. Seriously. Rear Window and Vertigo usually sent me to that place between my dates knees, low in the row of her cinema seat–to her satisfaction, of course, don’t you know.

By-the-buy. The movie that scared me the most and set the stage for preferring the horror-genre was The Poseidon Adventure. I saw it when I was, like, nine. Here a bit more on that. Indeed. To this day. I can’t help but think of (fat but luscious) Shelly Winters whenever I go swimming. I also will never board a cruise ship. In short, I’m a real chicken-$hit when it comes to suspense.

But here’s the thing, dear worst-reader. For most of my adult life, I kinda dug the movies. I mean. I preferred live theatre when available—especially since moving to #Eurowasteland. But a good movie here or there? That’s the ticket. Yet. Things changed in the last ten to fifteen years. I’ve kinda quit going to the movies. I’ve even already sickened of streaming services. Reason? Movie making has gone to $hit. I just can’t find a connection to any of it. It’s as though Hollywood, over the years, has over done it. Actually, that’s kind of a nice way to put it. What I really mean to say about Hollywood is this. As I’ve gotten older, seen too many movies, I think they’ve simply run out of creativity.

Still. Some stuff intrigued me. Like the whole horror sub-genre known as Zombies. WTF is up with Zombies? I mean. Come on. Even though I’ve long since grown out of my horror movie fascination, and certainly don’t need to cop-a-feel anymore, I can’t help but be curious. Thank goodness for the various clips and shorts available by the Interwebnets, eh. So I couldn’t help but notice, over the years, how people are eating up the Zombie genre. I mean. There are Zombie movies, Zombie comedies, Zombie walks (yes, as in, go for a walk dressed as a Zombie), and various Zombie TV shows.


Thanks for asking, dear worst-reader. Here’s worst-writer’s theory about the Zombie craze.

First. The zombie genre is the first purely American aka Hollywood horror creation. I mean. Get this. Ghost stories, the undead, monsters, etc., have a long history in the mind-catacombs of #Eurowasteland and corresponding literature. But until the Zombie thing came along, America had nothing. Luckily the Zombie thing fits a particular mentality, which means Hollywood has probably found the money-recipe that appeals to so many and they’ve been running (away) with it ever since. Good for them, eh.

Second(1). How has the horror genre lasted so long? Horror movies of my youth were an answer to the suspense movies that would eventually scare the bee-gee-zees out of me. Yet. For the last fifty or so years, it doesn’t feel like suspense movies have, for lack of better cinematic vocabulary, moved on (like the diversification of the horror genre). I suppose I could say the same thing about other genres, aka Dramas, Sci-fi, Comic (movies based on comics–aghast!) But horror? These things have gone full evolution (or is it devolution?) I mean. The first horror movie to ever tickle my bee-gee-zees button (as in scare me) was Saw. Of course, the blood and guts didn’t scare me from that film. For, don’t you know, dear worst-reader, no horror movie director has ever had to rid a local barn of bats. And so. Suspense scared me. Under other economic and social circumstances, a movie like Saw might have even driven me mad. Btw. I should also note that I tried to watch other Saw movies. Since they are all just redundant, pseudo-repeats of the first, those initial bee-gee-zee scares were quickly wiped away. Again. IMHO Hollywood has a serious creativity problem. Oh. Wait.

But I’m off worst-subject again. Stop the presses. Rewind. Start again.

Second(2). To worst-writer, the success of the Zombie genre over the years is what I like to call a two way mirror. A two way mirror is where/when people look at the mirror, they know it’s a mirror, they know that someone on the other side is looking back at them, but they don’t care because, well, it’s still just a mirror image and we all know that a mirror image isn’t necessarily real. And so. The Zombie genre seems to be an ever flowing revenue stream for Hollywood because it doesn’t really need much creativity to keep turning out more and more product–it just needs to point that mirror. It needs to make sure that the zombies never really, actually, literally, show #Americants the other side of their two-way.

But I die-gress.

The first zombie movie I saw was 1978’s Dawn of the Dead. It has remained in my mind as the quintessential #Americant horror movie. Reason? It was set in a shopping mall. It is about shoppers in that shopping mall–all of whom are afraid for their lives. What better imagery is there than to show reality in a mirror, fill it with gore, add a bunch of weaponry and racism, and don’t forget sexual tension but no nudity, and there you have it. George Romero is a fcuking genius. Of course. Dawn of the Dead was Romero’s second Zombie movie. The first having been shot ten years prior to Dawn. I think it took me twenty years before seeing his first one–but it wasn’t as good as Dawn. Anywho.

To worst-writer, the Zombie genre is perfect for current #Americant misconstrued political and social ideals, especially for those who cling to such ideals. The essence of the #Americant fail-upward-ness that is the greed $hitshow cannot function unless misconstrued individualism reeks of spite, bigotry, hate–and the desire/need to see the death of what is in the mirror. It is a very binary thing, don’t you know. Not unlike the so-called bipartisan pseudo-governance, aka politics, that is red and blue states. It’s also the perfect mismatch for #Americant never facing its demons, especially the demon of slavery, rich v. poor, winner-take-all and all the losers left behind, or who and whatever else is in that mirror. And so. To bring things back around… The Zombie genre is perfect for audiences to avoid the mirror that is #Americant life–i.e. avoid reality. Hence, consumerism does have a price when mixed with too much Mikey Mouse. Eh?

Which brings me to the only Zombie movie that ever, kinda, moved me–above and beyond the thrills of horror. It happened on a flight across the Atlantic to visit Mom a few years back. Although I had planned to read and do some worst-writing on the flight, I scanned through the movie offering and there was Brad Pitt’s Zombie film. Sure, I thought. I can kill two hours out of the eight to watch this film. Besides. I had heard about the film. I had read about its production problems. There was also something out there in the ether about the book it was based on. And so. A few years later. Last week to be exact. I caught World War Z on Amazon Prime–again. I thought: yeah, I should re-watch this on account I missed a few things here and there while watching it on a plane with that horrific little backseat screen and awful audio. Also. I’ve since heard a few more things about the book–on account of all this/that about viruses. So I watched the movie again. I let it percolate through my mind that night. The next morning, last Thursday, I discovered that Amazon was offering the e-book of World War Z by Max Brooks for something like three fcuking Euros. I finished the book Easter Sunday morning, 2020.

Pseudo-review of World War Z by Max Brooks.

Let me begin with the negative.

It makes no sense to me why such a great writer/thinker would subject himself to writing this book. Did Max Brooks get up one day and think to himself: how the heck can I sell my compulsion? Oh. Hey. I’ll write about Americans–as Zombies. I’ll show them the mirror they refuse to look at–but instead dance around with guns and violence and war and false-happy. But then some publishing big shot called him up–surely a friend or foe of his father (the grand Mel Brooks) and said: just do it, dude. Just write about the brainlessness of Americans and… with that name of yours… we’ll sell it.

Let me end with the positive.

Max Brooks nails it. This has to be one of the best reinterpretations (or is it regurgitation) of #Americant story telling–ever. Wait. Is this a first? Not sure. From the get-go, the first third of the book kept me very interested. The second third of the book trailed along the first. The last third of the book is a bit winded (i.e. weak) but I was so glad that the whole thing didn’t degrade into anything like the Hollywood mess that was the movie, I was happy to read every word to the end. And on that note… The thing from the mediocre Brad Pitt movie that interested me was how the fight against Zombies was not unlike the fight against an enemy within. It was, eventually, my hope that the book would double down on the enemy-within–and it did–whereas the movie screwed the pooch. But let’s move on.

A chronicle of a world war against Zombies based on interviews with participants? Again. Brilliant. And how Brooks holds it all together with some seriously good writing. He even threads here or there a few snipes of social and political reality, i.e. addressing man’s non-sensical, if not whimsical, allowance/enabling of so much gluttonous behaviour–that can only result in Zombies. I mean. What a silly genre, really, for so much social commentary–hidden or not (in the back of that two-way mirror). Zombies. Yet the author maintains a level of literary bent that can even interest the best of the best of us pseudo-intellectual wannabes, making the undead not only entertaining but important. Good for you, Max! Us failed/worst writers salute you.

Rant on.


Too Late

When you’ve failed-upward this long and this far… it’s too late to face the/any truth–and thereby hope you can turn things around–as in turn things toward a better outcome. Blah. Blah. Blah. Or… That’s what’s missing from the recent and brilliant realisation from a billionaire claiming to have the answer(s) for all the fail-upwardness of the world (right now). Indeed. Check out the article and vid below, dear worst-reader. The second link below contains progressive commentary that might also be worth hearing. But don’t let it cloud your (mis)judgement.

A billionaire investor–that may or may not be on the correct side of the financialisation $hitshow most of us are forced to live in–said recently on a cable newz show (i.e. The Media) that it’s ok for Airlines to fail (i.e. go bankrupt) because by doing so they are then renewed by those who are more responsible. Or something like that. Not only is the video making the rounds on the Interwebnets because its tone is not quit radical right-wing and/or bat$hit business crazy, some are claiming it’s a meek-shall-inherit-the-earth-moment. As though us meek don’t have enough to worry about in these virus-zombie days, eh dear worst-reader? I mean. It’s nothing new for generation after generation to heed the call of (their) upbringing which ends up being nothing but a repeat and/or regurgitation of the past, i.e., fail upward #Americant. Hence, there can be no claim that capitalism, at its core, has anything to do with creativity–but it may have a bit more in common with the amateurism of hobbies. By-the-buy. Creativity is but a means to a financial end for Capitalists. You know. As in. Teeth ain’t for eating but instead for selling toothpaste. Anywho.

For the answer to everything is most certainly  investing, ain’t that right, dear worst-reader? Ain’t that the only way to do things if all that’s left in the $hitshow is financialisation? And that, in essence, is all the talking heads are talking about. Or? At least that’s all they’re talking about in this/that part of The Media, i.e. the business media. On the other worst-hand, and as usual, what is being said is nothing new. It’s just wrapped in a different cloak/coat. Didn’t Mitt Romney say the same thing in 2008? You know, about bailing out the entire $hitshow as it was failing then? Ok. Ok. The guy in the video I’m including here is a bit different than Mitt. At the least, this new guy ain’t a bat$hit republican religious nut job. Or is he? #Nomatter.

The thing to remember about financialisation people is this. Mitt Romney wouldn’t be a billionaire today if it weren’t for the generation after generation of hand-me-down smart-assery of fail-upward parentage. So let’s be clear in all our unclarity. Mitt wanted GM to go bankrupt in 2008 so that he could continue his vulture capitalism ways (of the 1980s and early 90s) and thereby sell-off the #Americant companies in order to circumvent labour. That’s how he became a billionaire without actually EVER creating anything. This new financialisation guy, on the other hand, is a kind of anti-Mitt. He thinks that letting corporations fail means that new corporatists can join the bandwagon of the $hitshow and improve on previous failures. Even though this situation can be painted by either side of the political spectrum, I’m not sure which one is worst. The only thing that is clear to me is that one has fewer sharper teeth than the other and perhaps doesn’t know how best to sell toothpaste to the teethless.

But what the hell do I know.

Rant on.


Video with progressive commentary

How The Old Win Failing Upward

the bern

Well, dear worst-reader, it’s finally happened. Bernie Sanders has not only exited the 2016 presidential race (Yes!, the 2016 race) but he’s joined all the others–including Hillary–who probably never should have been in the race in the first place. So let’s go down the list shall we? Here’s what shouldn’t be running for the highest office of the LAND OF FREE TO BE STUPID: women, non-whites, gays, young people, and, of course, Jews. And so. Just as the Talking Head song says, here’s where we are: Same as it ever was. Same as it ever was. Saaaaaame as it eeeeeeeeever waaaaaaas!

What’s left then for the rest of us who at least try to participate in pseudo-democracy and money-life? Indeed. Not only old, white guys continue to run the $hitshow of greed that is my beloved & missed united mistakes of #Americant, but it even feels like there is nothing or no one else to ever replace those who gave us this $hitshow. I mean. Forget about the gender thing, the race thing, the religious krapp that may or may not reveal what #Americant really is. The problem is, there’s not even a young, straight, handsome white guy–a guy under the age of fifty–out there to take the reins of a future that is long since a dead-man walking that looks like 90-year-old Biden fishing through #Trump’s hair as though he thinks he were a kid in the Wonka factory dipping his finger in a world of confectionary everything. But on that note… I die-gress.

Here’s the thing, dear worst-reader. If you’re still in the LAND OF FREE TO BE STUPID–as I managed to get out of over thirty years ago–I wish you the best of luck in your fight against STUPID. For the moneyed and old abusers who know STUPID better than STUPID knows STUPID… will continue to rule because, well, what else is there left that they can take from the youth they haven’t already taken, i.e. the future? You and your parents (aka #okboomers) have made and sustained and facilitated the $hitshow–but they/you were too stupid to figure that out as lapel-flag, faux-newz patriotism has been ruling them/you since… Gee. I don’t know. Ronald Fcuking Reagan. And so. It’s worked out enough for you to never own a car–but you certainly know its monthly payments. You’ll never pay-off a mortgage (like some of your #okboomer parents were able to) but you’ll re-finance whatever it is you have to buy a pool or a boat or a Harley, etc.–that you’ll also never pay-off. Consume-to-survive everything with revolving credit until a slime of greed oozes out of your nostrils that you mistake for money as the delirium of Coronavirus engulfs you and… But. Again. I die-gress.

These old white guys truly believe that they are God’s gift to man, #nomatter if their hair looks like slush-ice made of urine–and in Bidens case platinum urine taken from the last female unicorn that ever walked over a man’s cock. Or. Of course. They walk around like Biden does as though he were literally being pulled along by a harness attached to his ever bitter woman-wife that is (can only be) the matriarch of these fail-upward men of forever nothingness. Another die-gress?

And so. Democrats are ramming it down your throats, dear worst-reader. They are doing it to finally show you that there is a difference between them and the religious $hitbags of the Republican party that have turned the $hitshow into a greed-feast of nevermore. You think Democrats forgot how you DID NOT vote for Hillary? They are so pissed that you gave them #Trump their only concern at this point is making sure he doesn’t ruin Republicans too much. Even if Biden loses, don’t you know, the elites of the Democrat party are going to do what all elites do. They are going to laugh their way to the bank as #Trump suckers (#MAGA) you out of even more. And that more doesn’t include Democrat elites. Indeed. Your democracy allows you to still pick you enemies even if you can’t pick the winners of your anal-unicorn-party-time you so lust for ontop of reality TV, WWE, and, and, and. So pucker up suckers.

Even though Bernie Sanders is no spring chicken and he’s a bit white-white, his idears were as young as it gets when considering the old-ness #Americant has become lusting for money plus more and more and more FREEDOM TO BE STUPID. On the other worst-hand, why should Biden and his generation even consider all the failure they are leaving behind? Don’t they all believe that they represent that which has given the world not only cheap toasters made in sweat-shops but also the freedom to get stupider and stupider, hence all the reality-TV and the reality of WWE? And let’s not forget the stupid that is WWE or religion that can only culminate in the likes of #Trump. Hence, why shouldn’t #Trump win re-election? Indeed. The $hitshow of greed will continue for it is, dear worst-reader, a hard and heavy and stubborn beast that thinks it never deserves to die.

Good luck suckers.

Rant on.


– Bernie Sanders interview w/ transcript

Examples Of Stupid In The Here And Now

Sometimes the newz gets to worst-moi. You too, dear worst-reader? Yet we are all junkies for it, eh. Indeed. That’s why I try not to bore you all that much about what’s going on around the world these days. And while I’m on the worst-subject of tootin’ my own horn. Don’t give it a thought or three that I even have a category named News. But. Again. That’s neither here nor there.

Since I already posted something about what could be considered serious news–or less serious newz–I couldn’t help but take special notice of the links below during my morning news scan. I mean. What a cornucopia of STUPID that’s out there alive and well these days, eh.

Let’s have a look directly, shall we?

First. Get this.

A conspiracy-nut from my beloved & missed united mistakes of #Americant, who, by-the-buy, is a freakin’ train engineer… Stop. I mean. Really? Even train engineers are going batshit on account of #Americant capitalism racing to turn brains into mush as much as it’s also turning lungs into mush with this new fangled flu thing its created? I mean. Ain’t train engineers supposed to be one of them fantasies of children when/while growing up? You know, along side being a fireman, a doctor, a professional computer game player, etc.? Obviously none of that applies to this guy, don’t you know. I guess, for him, being a train engineer means you get to listen to right-wing batshittery all day which is why so many end up believing in the batshit. Ain’t that the game Limbaugh & Co, faux-newz, etc., has played with the LAND OF FREE TO BE STUPID since evermore? Indeed.

Or how ’bout this guy? Even though this guy may or may not have anything to do with the flu epidemic, you have to give him as much creative credit as the train engineer for raising the bar of STUPID. In Berlin, Germania, the other day, a nineteen year old refused to pay for his train ticket after boarding. When he was eventually confronted by the German police, he claimed that he is Adolf Hitler and therefore doesn’t have to pay for the ticket. Yeah, baby. Talk about mush Brains.

This is a little more than just batshit conspiracy and/or a virus scare-thing. Here we have neighbours in Germany snitching on others during the social distancing curfew. What’s the reason for calling the police? Easy answer to that, dear worst-reader. Wouldn’t you know that the biggest area of snitching, so far, is the former East-Germany where it was, in their heyday, common place.

And last but certainly not… My better-half brought this article to my attention. And I know why it caught her attention. As a German, proud of all things German, the first thing she said to me about this incident between a German built ship and a Venezuelan military boat was that the Venezuelan boat should have taken better care regarding what it was getting into. Hence, while trying to force a German-built arctic boat–meaning it has a reinforced hull–from entering territorial waters, it tried to force the ship away by ramming it. Guess what? That’s right. The Venezuelan boat sank. Ha. Ha. Ha. He. He. He.

Enough newz for today, baby.

Rant on.


Sue To The Dungheap

As the herd culls or is culled…

How does one get to the essence of what’s wrong with everything, dear worst-reader? You know, why everything is soooooo worst? Does one dig to the base, the fundament, the origin? Are there even enough shovels, tools to do that? Does one deconstruct and thereby reconstruct–in order to produce a fabulous 3-d exploded-view diagram? Or how ’bout preying during a/your seance while others puke tell-tale ingredients onto the/your weegee (ouija) board that is read back to you by witch-bitches and/or bitch-teat wearers? How ’bout just taking a moment, a deserved moment, where you put yourself into that dream-state, induced by whatever means you see fit, and take a crawl through President Stupid’s pee-pee-hair? Indeed. There you will most certainly find answers.

But I die-gress.

Or do I?

The thing is, there’s an origin to everything. Not an origin, don’t you know, that is about the metaphysical, i.e. religion. Let’s be clear (about that). There is an origin more along the lines of what came first when it comes to a world of STUPID. More importantly: a world of taking advantage of STUPID. And so. It’s not about what came first: the fire or the wheel? Nor is it about what stroke of the brush began the Mona Lisa? And how ’bout this? Is the first note of Beethoven’s 9th really the first sound that came to (his) mind before composing (it)? As vague (worst) as all that worst-writing may or may not be, there is (still) an origin to everything. The only thing there isn’t–is an origin to the origin. But let’s not get so far off worst-subject, eh. And so (1). Is the origin (of everything) worth finding? In the case of religion, it doesn’t really matter. In the case of humanity destroying itself, a case where man obviously has gone a bit too far in his whimsical and diabolical lust to rule and control others, i.e. the greed $hitshow that is my beloved & missed united mistakes of #Americant, it might be worth figuring out. And so (2). Let us have a look at that origin. Let’s glance down the cumhole of political conservatism.

Where does it come from? Is it real (as in reality)? Is it a ghost (unseen) of which only our subconscious is aware? Is it the anger of a scorn wo-man whose beauty was stolen by her stupidness on account she believed in President Pee-Pee-Hair? Indeed. We are nearing its name. And so (3). Let’s go there now, dear worst-reader. Buckle down. Tighten up the straps of your dildo-brain. Grease up the edges. Tickle the orifice yourself first. Get ready, baby.

Let’s call it by its name now: faux-newz. Let’s address it as a pledge sung: Oh Limbaugh & Co. of the stars-n-stripes pinned to the lapel of a JC Penny suit. The voice of a father or mother that is against anything and everything intellectual that questions the great spaghetti-monster in the sky is whispering as husband-man has his religious doctrine way the grand Her. She never cums. And so (4). Yes. At the behest of being redundant, the origin is: faux-newz.

But what I really wanted to get on about in this worst-post…

As the old saying goes: We’ll take what we can get, eh, dear worst-reader. I mean, if that’s what’s required to get rid of Faux-Newz, let it be done (see links below). Let it be done with gore and glory. Sue the krapp out of the motherfcukers! I mean, since my wish that they/it would just fade away as the greatest generation and its off-spring the #okboomers should fade away… Well. It obviously it ain’t gonna be that simple. For you see, dear worst-reader, (the) taking advantage of all the STUPID of LAND OF FREE TO BE STUPID, ain’t no hat-trick. It is something else. In whatever parallel universe it is, I guess, something grand, something glorious–is to happen. It is something for believers to believe in. Of course, that doesn’t mean that the likes of Rupert Murdoch will also go to the way side as the $hithole that is faux-newz is sued. Oh. Dear worst-reader. The battles we thinking folk must face in our minds and/or worst-writer pages…?

And so (5). Let us move on with the age-old worst-writer adage.

What is #Americant political and social conservatism? It is three things. First, in the context of the media, it is that which tells people what to think and what to do. This is the base of President Stupid, don’t you know. Second, it is those who do what they are told–without question. And they are the 62m or so that elected, directly or indirectly, President $hit-4-brains. Third, it is those who think they are not part of the first or the second, hence all the smart-arses in the world (perhaps including yours-worst-truly), and the previously mentioned indirect culprits, that make all this happen. And they are oblivious to it. Currently, w/ this our newest and most profuse crisis (the f’n flu), faux-newz is finding it difficult to subvert its true face, what it really stands for, its meaning. And for that, finally, hopefully, it must pay. Or maybe not.

For how do you catch a fox, dear worst-reader. A fox that is the greatest of all STUPID that has ever been. At lest the greatest since the likes of Brutus had his penetrating way with Caesar. But I could be wrong. #Nomatter.

Good luck suckers.

Rant on.


PS Kara Swisher, from a link below, has a podcast I regularly listen to. It’s a pretty cool podcast, too. But sometimes it kinda sucks–as all talking heads (can) suck. Yeah, sometimes.


Things Corona

Not sure, dear worst-reader. But it’s everywhere. Here just a few examples. By-the-buy. The house is a rich-man’s house not far from where I live and where I have to pass every day with Beckett, the killer pug. To indicate what they’re doing about the current crisis, they hung up a page from a local newspaper to indicate they’re staying-in. The van is from a local heating, plumbing and solar company. Great name, eh. The guts–or that’s what I like to call it–is a misnomer to me. I wish I could see the animal that coughs this up. Perhaps it represents–to my worst-mind–what lungs look like when Covid-19 turn them to mush. Otherwise. As best I can tell. It’s the throw-up-rest of what was once a frog, probably from the bowels of a prehistoric rodent that lives along the Rhine River. Or maybe not.

Good luck suckers.

Rant on.