Pseudo Review – 1: “Democracy in Chains” – A Book To Steal The Heart Of Any Rational Useless-Eater That Figured Out How To Dropout In Style And Doesn’t Look Back With Too Much Anger

Update: Pseudo Review – 2 is here.

Afeared yet, dear worst-reader? Well, if you ain’t afeared yet, it might be time to get your bloomers in an uproar. Or is it get your bloomers in a gander? Wait. How ’bout gettin’ things up in a pickle? Nomatter. I’ve been reading the book Democracy in Chains by the historian Nancy MacLean. In fact, I’m not even done reading it while I worst-write this pseudo-review. And let me tell you, dear worst-reader, two things have gotten to me since starting this book–that I’m about half-way through so far.

The first thing, as just mentioned, is that this book once again reminds me of why people–normal people, people that aren’t born rich and of privilege, people who have earned their “keep” and/or still owe but can pay their bills–including but not limited to people that vote for #Trumpism because they are incapable of dealing with the reality they’ve ALL gotten themselves into by falling for republicanism from the past thirty (sixty?) years…. All these people should be scared (afeared) out of their fcuking bat$hit minds.

Second, and I don’t mean to be overly spiteful, presumptuous, and giggly here, but even though Nancy MacLean probably nails it in this calling-out book about the fcuked-up right-wing of my beloved & missed #Americant, I am snickering my a$$ off at the fact that I knew all of this already–just not as empirically and academically as MacLean details it in her book. Indeed. Ever since I was a young man and tried to make it among the mindless greed herders so long ago, what MacLean writes about is definitely part of my #Americant, worst-writer, failed-artist be-speckled being. With that in mind, let me put this out there:

I am a proud Unützer Esser. Come on, dear worst-reader. Give those old Germanic words a go. Unützer Esser. Unützer Esser. Unützer Esser. Unützer Esser. Say it a few more times. Enjoy the mouth watering acrobatics of the umlaut. Let the double Germanic ‘S’ role over lip and gum and provide that gracious tickle that only comes from subjective oral pleasure you conjured out of any of the many sexual conquests that made HER mouth more appealing.

But enough about worst-moi.

In translation, of course, Unützer Esser means: Useless Eater. Sound familiar to you if you’re one of the minions mentioned above who can’t see through the demise of your own making? I mean, come on. These are two easy words that are pretty easy to grasp, even in the original German. Right? You know. Call up your prejudice. Yeah. There it is. You got it. For you and the conservative-bent that has ruled your life, a Useless Eater is a burden to you because you think and believe that such a person gets by in life and you’re the one that pays for it because you have to pay things like… wait for it: income tax. Of course, does it matter that I use the original German for this term–and not the one most greed mongers, especially those from the infamous #Americant middle-class, use? You know, using the original is cool on account Germans, at a certain point in their near past–which a lot of #Americant white people are obsessed with–kinda invented it? But do you really know what a Unützer Esser is?

For the Germans, Usless Eater wasn’t a term used to describe fully functional people who made choices in life that lead to suckling on the government teat. You know, the marginalised, the drop-outs, those not quite good enough in the realm of corporate behaviourism, etc. I mean, come on. Have you worked in a cubicle lately? Oh, really. You still do? Or are you collecting rent from smart-ass real-estate investments enabled by urban gentrification and artificially low/fake interest rates? Oh wait. Or are you one of them stock-market cocksuckers that actually believes the numbers you see are real–and not fiction/fake that can only be derived from the willing and able über-gullible? If so, good for you. But before we get too off the beaten worst-path.

A Useless Eater, for the Germans, was someone that was physically incapable of being productive and therefore was a cost, a burden to… wait for it: National Socialism. It was a term used to describe the physically and mentally dysfunctional (disabled)–not people that simply didn’t agree with the bullshit of greed-mongers or the ignorant-moronic middle-classes or those who never wanted to be part of a rentier-system that mis-associates a livelihood with actual, real achievement, i.e. a meritless society. Indeed. The Nazis had a different fate for those folk. Usless Eater, for the Nazis, was a term in conjunction with the systematic use of gas chambers, concentration camps, Final Solutions, etc. And as we can see, it’s quite a versatile term, don’t you know.

So here’s a question for you: Would the Germans have eventually used the term Unützer Esser–you know, after they gassed everybody–for the mass of people that would eventually be forced into similar, costly societal dysfunction because capitalism would once again (post 1929) turn into a $hitshow of greed?

Wow. Talk about a mute question, eh!

And now for a little on this book that I’ve only read half of so far.

The thing that motivated me to read Democracy In Chains was Bill Maher’s interview with the author on last week’s show (which I listen to via audio podcast; see link below). In the interview MacLean mentioned how the current #SCOTUS pick from President Stupid was very, very dangerous. In fact, the whole #SCOTUS thing has preoccupied me since right-wingers stole Barry-O’s pick after the death of Antonin Scalia in early 2016. Keep in mind, I’m not worried about this pick because of the reasons many liberals espouse, i.e. he’s a religious $hitbag–which is bad enough. Instead, MacLean mentioned that his judicial record indicates he is a follower of an even more extreme political and economic ideology than the one that’s gotten #Americant into the mess it’s now in. MacLean mentioned in the interview that Brett Kavanaugh is a right-winger that wants to change the US Constitution so that it will better favour property and liberty–for the rich. To do that, according to MacLean, this guy wants to change the 17th Amendment back to what it was originally, i.e. state legislators pick National Senators. He also wants to change the 25th Amendment, which deals with how to get rid of a corrupt President. And now you know why President Stupid picked him. And of course, let’s not forget he will most certainly over-turn Roe v. Wade thereby resetting political and social gains of women in the past… Gee, I don’t know: hundred or so fcuking years!


The second thing to motivate me to read this book was the mention of Charles Koch and, someone I had never heard of: James M. Buchanan. Half way through the book I can easily tell you that you should be scared out of your wits–especially if you’re one of them both-siderists that enabled President Stupid. Or you’re a libertarian that will spend your life dreaming the dream of dreams thinking you’ll be safe when it all crashes–you know, with your Ayan Rand gold collection. Or, and here’s the doozy, you should be biggly, huuuuuugely afeard if you voted for Trump and you actually work/worked for a living. Yeah. What’s going on in the halls and cess-whirl-pools of the United Mistakes of #Americant right now should make you run for the fcuking hills! But then again, don’t you’all deserve this?

Golly-gee! The dystopia-ists who chronicled all this a century ago–because they already lived through it–Orwell, Huxley, etc.–are probably laughing their a$$es off just like me right now.

“But why are you laughing, worst-writer? You’re a f’n failure through and through!”

I’m laughing because, well, it’s hi-larry-us that I jumped ship because I knew as far back as the mid to late 1980s how that ship was sinking, the train-wreck was underway, and since then, in all my travels, I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting one American that actually made it beyond being a pawn in this the grand shit$how of greed.


I’ll be posting a follow-up pseudo-review of this book once I finish it.

Good night and good luck, suckers.

-Rant on


– NPR review 1 –
– NPR review 2 –
– NYT review –
– Glossary of Nazi Germany ‘U’ –
– Ep. #467: Malcolm Nance, Nancy MacLean – Released Aug 04, 2018 Bill’s guests are Malcolm Nance, Nancy MacLean, Kristen Soltis Anderson, Charles Blow, and Steve Schmidt (Originally aired 08/03/18) | This show is available as audio podcast on iTunes |

Myth Porn Or How I Learned To Dodge Jizz Bling Bling

viking myth blood eagle.jpg
The Blood Eagle. A depiction of sacrifice, burial or pre-barmizwa?

As stated here and here, dear worst-reader, I really dig the epic poem Beowulf. Reason? It’s a very telling story–and not just about times long past, don’t you know. Although difficult to read, especially the latter parts, it is truly a work of art that, once conquered, gives the feeling that one can somehow relate to what is depicted–in a literary sense, of course. But I suppose that’s what the written word does. Or?

Considering the popularity in recent years of various screen oriented story-telling that is not far flung from Beowulf, I’m wondering what writers of these pay-per-view TV shows are really thinking when they manufacture this stuff. For it is manufactured, isn’t it dear worst-reader? I’m referring, of course, to TV shows like Game of Thrones and Vikings. By-the-buy, I actually got through four seasons of GoT, don’t you know. Of course, after about three seasons I was already tired of watching it. I was tired, indeed, of the repetitiveness and stretchy-ness of every mis-continued episode. But since I had purchased the DVDs (second hand, of course) and ripped them to my home server, I thought: what the heck. And so. I have not seen, nor will I put any effort into watching any other season of GoT. Do you know why? That’s right, dear worst-reader. Once you’ve seen one episode you’ve practically seen them all. But let’s give credit where it’s due. Four seasons of GoT, baby. I did it.


After putting it off for sometime, I recently dabbled in the TV show Vikings. Reason? I had read a few things here or there or heard someone in a podcast talk about it. It is supposed to be a great show and everyone should watch it. The drama and story and the settings and the characters… bling bling. Even though the show is currently in it’s eighth season, I thought I’d give it a go from the beginning. And get this: Would you believe I got through eight and a half episodes of the first season within, like, three days? Well, it’s true. Eight and a half–ain’t that something akin to a Vikings’ lucky number? Oh wait. Dumba$$ Vikings didn’t even have numbers. Nomatter.

First, let me just put this out there: who watches this $hit?

Don’t get me wrong. As far as production value is concerned, Vikings (in the eight and a half episodes I could stomach) is much better than GoT. Also, Vikings (in eight and a half episodes) didn’t immediately turn me off because of the excess fantasy genre-krapp that, IMHO, is the ruin of GoT. But this post ain’t a comparison post. This is a rant. A rant, indeed, about what the fcuk do people think they are watching when they scatter their brains with this krapp? Oh wait. We’re living in porn-times, eh. Yeah, we are. Everything is “porn” now. There are shows and podcasts and video clips of people freaking out over cars, jet planes, cooking, sewing, fat asses with dollars stuck in fat cracks, and bling bling. The only difference to this krapp and real porn is that, heck, back in the day of real porn–let’s say 1980s porn–it was actually better than all this genre manufactured TV $hit.

Alone the shear glorification of violence is ludicrous. But how do the manufactures of this krapp compete with all the bling bling? That’s right. You turn it into porn. Seriously! After seven or eights episodes of Vikings–and also knowing a little bit about Norse Mythology–I decided to fast forward to the cumshots. So I resorted to YouTube to do some research. You know, on account the cumshots of 1980s porn was the best part. Alone the reaction of a woman receiving a man’s sword gluttony all over her face and, where applicable, she is enjoying it, on account she knows she ain’t gonna get knocked-up, is just downright cool. But on that note, I digress.

Now where was I?

Oh yeah.

The facial.


Oh yeah.

The glorification of violence in the TV show Vikings is downright ludicrous. So I did a little search for “Viking TV show and death…” and behold, toot-sweet baby, I got a whole lot of hits of various slaughterings galore. It’s unbelievable not only how much but how death is portrayed in this TV show. But I guess it’s the same everywhere on TV. Or? I mean, all the killing on GoT was just as stupid. Like that idiotic fight between The Hound and that… yeah, Viking blond chick! Whaaaaaa! And what about all the super hero movies–most of which I can’t stand to watch anymore on account of stupid super hero capes and silly super hero pseudo-violence. You know–gotta appeal/sell it to the kids, right? No wonder the world is so fcuked up these days and a guy like $hitbag #Trump can become President Stupid of land of free to be stupid. But before I get too far off subject.

It’s not only the glorification of violence these shows hang out there. The show Vikings is a perversion of Norse Mythology dressed in a stupid-cloak. Indeed. We live in stupid times. For example. (Spoiler alert!) That “Blood Eagle” torture-death of whatever dip$hit English King in season… whatever. I mean, come on. Is there really verisimilitude in this depiction? I know. I know. You know it’s all just fiction. But do you really know that? Do you know that people watching this stuff, people that are glued to it, really know the difference between fiction and Norse Mythology? And if you do know it’s all fiction, is it possible that through so much bling bling, people will never put any effort into trying to get informed about how incestuous tribes of Northern Europe did what they had to do in order to survive–which had nothing to do with slaughtering defenceless priests with hi-larry-us hair-dos but instead they had to move south. In fact, that’s why/how the blonde hair, blue eyes got to Europe in the first place. It’s because all those inbred cocksuckers from the north could no longer survive when sisters and brothers kept bearing grapefruits as children. With that in mind, the first thing to know about Norse Mythology is that it is all about exaggeration. Indeed, dear worst-reader. Exaggeration galore–and a few glorious cumshots.

-Rant on


Misdirected Lyrics And The Ultimate Lie Of The #Americant Mind Long Run Amok

Another email exchange with an old friend.

To Worstwriter:

I’ve been reading a bit lately. Found this quote:

What’s more crazy than a bunch of people gathering each Sunday to sing and greet each other at the foot of an empty cross, the ancient equivalent of the electric chair?

Pretty good, eh.

Your old friend.

To dear old friend:

Oh, dear old friend, since you insist on quoting odd and perhaps mis-directed lyrics—especially without sourcing it—then you deserve yet another worst-writer response.

The analogy in your text is, of course, inaccurate and ultimately fails to convey, what can only be assumed, is its intended message: that people are witnessing a murder sanctioned by the state while worshipping a supernatural being. Obviously your lyricist is trying to compare modern day church-goers with people witnessing a capital punishment execution each time they go to their place of worship. Is then their place of worship an execution facility?

First, the cross, in and of itself, doesn’t represent a device used in capital punishment. There is evidence, for example, that Christ was crucified on a cypress tree. The exact location of that crucifixion, though, is unclear. But we do know, according to the gospels, that Christ was crucified outside Jerusalem’s walls, which means it is plausible a tree was used. Hence, a cross–or the image of two pieces of wood crossing each other, where the short, horizontal piece of wood almost sits atop the longer, vertical piece, has become the image of a living deity–is not an image of an execution. So. Is the cross valid when comparing it to the electric chair, especially when the man being murdered doesn’t really die? Or. Is state-sanctioned murder also a kind of sport for the stupid-of-mind, e.g. spectators of WWE, realityTV, republicans, modern day evangelical church goers, etc.?


Let’s go with the latter, shall we? You live among the truly Stupid in my beloved & missed #Americant. Now that Stupid has finally shown its true colours, its face, its whole being and thereby elected even more Stupid to the Presidency of the united mistakes of #Americant—most of this was made possible, by-the-buy, with the mindless influence of evangelicals—there might be some minds out there (your lyricist?) hearing new supernatural voices preaching the gospel of fcuking dumba$$ stupid idiot cocksuckers who can only earn money and do nothing else worthwhile–with their lives. And so. Little minded stupid people come up with ridiculous analogies in lyrics in order to circumvent their inner most thoughts compelling them to wake the fcuk up. And as usual, it will all fail un-graciously upward and up.

Anyway. I hate fcuking ignorant play-time lyricists.


-end email-

-Rant on


Heatwave, #Eurowasteland And How I Learned To Love Electric Shades

If you haven’t heard, dear worst-reader, #Eurowasteland is experiencing a pretty severe heatwave. Indeed. In all my years living among the Germans as a lost and useless-eating #Americant, I’ve never experienced it this hot for this long. Yesterday I measured 37.5°C (that’s almost a 100°F). That may not sound like much to you but considering the humidity in this area combined with a bit too much green through out the year… Seriously. I’ve been to dry heat areas. I can take 40° plus in India. I can even hang in summer-time Arizona. Northern Europe is different than all that–when climate goes nuts. The worst part about is that it’s been in and out of  30°C–plus or minus–since early July. Oh, how this reminds me of my youth on the eastern shore of Maryland and the grand and luscious Chesapeake Bay (that I miss dearly). July and August and September (and sometimes June and October) were unbearable with heat and humidity back then. But there was always something to fall back on. That’s right, dear worst-reader. We could at least get out of the heat and even sleep in modern air conditioning. Here, though, there ain’t no A/C. Instead, there are concrete walls, wood floors and lots and lots of electric shades. In fact, during the day, for the past few weeks, these shades are down all the time. Not until about 7pm can we open them. As you can see in the pics above, we live in a rather rectangular, three level flat. These pics are of the ground floor. Separating our relatively small but comfortable living room and the kitchen is an open, outdoor atrium with eight glass doors. It’s where we do all our out-door cooking (grilling) and fresh air patio-ing; it’s connected directly to the kitchen (not pictured). It’s kind of a nice layout once you get used to it–except when the sun becomes a barrel full of heat. And so. During mid-morning hours we lower the shades. It’s at that time I begin worst-writing and hoping that the devil-heat doesn’t overwhelm me.

-Rant on


PS I’m fully aware that my use and abuse of air conditioning in my youth is part of my suffering today. For that I am sorry. And although my neighbours are all buying plug-in A/C units, we’ve decided to just keep our shades lowered.