I'm the King of America!

I hereby declare myself King of America. And all my new subjects had better take me seriously, otherwise I’ll quit and let the Democrats and Republicans back into power. And no one in his or her right mind wants that, right? Personally, I’d rather get a nice paper-cut on my lip with some lemon juice poured on it.

As both the late Catholic anarchist Erik von Kuehnelt-Leddihn, and Hans-Hermann Hoppe, have noted, a constitutional monarchy is far superior to any other form of government (it’s not perfect; it’s just the least of all the evils. No, that’s not true; the least evil would be no State at all, but I have serious doubts about that ever happening.)

Kuehnelt-Leddihn wrote the relationship between a monarch and his citizens is much like that between fathers and children, and Hoppe has made persuasive arguments that since kings in a sense "own" the country, they’ll take better long-term care of it than a democracy, which invariably looks no further than the next election.

Kuehnelt-Leddihn, quoting Rivarol, had this to say about the difference between monachy and democracy, "...a monarch can be a Nero or a Marcus Aurelius, the people collectively can be a Nero, but they can never, ever, be a Marcus Aurelius" (my view is that the population may expand, but intelligence might be a constant). He also wrote, in Leftism Revisited, "Outside of Switzerland, there has never been a republic that did not become a monarchy. Only the ignorant, the insular, or provincial can consider a republic or democracy – both antique forms of government – ‘modern,’ or a monarcy ‘obsolete.’"

Hoppe writes this about democracy: " ...democracy has been the fountainhead of every form of socialism: of (European) democratic socialism and (American) liberalism and neo-conservatism as well as of international (Soviet) socialism, (Italian) fascism, and national (Nazi) socialism."

He has this to say about monarchs: "...a king, because he ‘owns’ the monopoly [the country] and may sell or bequeath it, will care about the repercussions of his actions on capital values. As the owner of the capital stock on ‘his’ territory, the king will be comparatively future-oriented. In order to preserve or enhance the value of his property, he will exploit only moderately and calculatingly. In contrast, a temporary and interchangeable democratic caretaker does not own the country, but as long as he is in office he is permitted to use it to his advantage. He owns its current use but not its capital stock. This does not eliminate exploitation. Instead, it makes exploitation shortsighted (present-oriented) and uncalculated, i.e., carried out without regard for the value of the capital stock."

Concerning the weasels who run democratic governments, he writes, "the selection of government rulers by means of popular elections makes it essentially impossible for a harmless or decent person to ever rise to the top. Presidents and prime ministers come into their position as a result of their efficiency as morally uninhibited demagogues. Hence, democracy virtually assures that only dangerous men will rise to the top of government."

Friedrich Hayek noticed the same thing in chapter ten ("Why the Worst Get on Top") in his 1944 masterpiece, The Road to Serfdom, when he wrote that "the unscrupulous and uninhibited are likely to be more successful" in any society that sees government as the answer to society’s problems. "Seeing the government as the answer to society’s problems" is one of the best one-sentence definitions of democracy I’ve run across.

Unfortunately, democracy is the worst form of government there is. One hundred million to two hundred million people were sacrificed in the "Age of Democracy" known as the 20th century.

If you’ll look at history, you’ll find that King George III’s abuses of the American colonies were but a small fraction of what the – yech, blech, I can barely bring myself to say it – "federal" government does to the citizens today. We’d be far better off if the entire modern Black Thing just disappeared and George, as loopy as he was, was still king.

My first action will to be to close down most of the government. Since the average serf – I mean American – is paying about 40% of his or her income to the government, out goes the IRS. No more tax-forms! People will pay no more than three percent of their income to the government. Maybe a sales tax.

Department of "Education" – gone! All public schools are immediately closed down. All schools are now private. No more special interest groups mauling each other, trying by the force of law to impose their curriculum on students. Unfortunately, I’ll have to be a little harsh here and fire every leftist in every college. And every economics, history, law and political-science professor who doesn’t teach anything but the free market and political liberty. Alan Dershowitz can stand on a soapbox in a park and howl to his heart’s content (in England they call these kinds of people, quite correctly, "nutters").

Since all government will be a fraction of its current size, most judges can hit the streets and get honest jobs, instead of tranferring citizen’s wealth into the State’s pocket (Thomas Hobbes correctly noted, "Unnecessary laws are not good laws, but traps for money").

Any lawyer or judge who doesn’t understand the concept of Natural Law (what used to be called "the common law"), and doesn’t realize that law is discovered and not invented, is obviously unfit for the profession.

Department of Energy – poof! The mud flats in Alaska are now open to exploration. And anywhere else in this country. If anyone is worried about pollution, companies will by law not be allowed to pollute anyone’s property. That’s what the law was supposed to do in the first place, but rarely did. It almost always looked the other way when businesses polluted people’s property. Said it was to protect people’s jobs, which were more important than other’s private property (never mind the fact that without private property there are very few jobs).

More nuclear power plants will be built. If people don’t like that, then the unleasing of the free market will create all kinds of wonderful alternative ways to create energy. Maybe billions of flying squirrels on treadmills, trying to get up enough speed to take flight.

All the troops we have in 144 countries – home they come! All political connections with other countries are now severed. If private businesses want to trade with foreign countries, fine. No more foreign aid, which almost always goes to the rulers anyway. Which they then used to oppress and murder their own impoverished citizens.

All welfare is immediately ended. That means not just the "poor," but also corporate pigs sticking their snouts into the public trough. All the private charities that will spring up can help the poor to get back on their feet. No more subsidizing unmarried teenage girls to pop fatherless babies onto the public dole. If they can’t support them, then open the orphanages back up. They did a fine job in the past.

All gun control laws are now repealed. Anyone can carry a weapon, concealed or unconcealed, in public. If people want to own Tommy guns, wonderful. They’re stupid weapons, anyway. You can’t hit anything with them. Shotguns are much better (machine guns make holes; shotguns make craters, or will even remove your head completely. So guess which one is legal now, and which one isn’t?)

All drug laws are now repealed. No more sending billions to narco-terrorists in foreign countries. No more wasting billions trying to stop drugs from getting into the country.

And no conscription, either, ever again. Waste all my valuable citizens in worthless foreign wars? Hey, they’ve got better things to do, like invent things and advance society.

Obama will immediately be charged with treason and/or war crimes, as will Tom Daschle, Richard Gephardt, Chuck Schumer, Janet Reno, Madeleine Albright and Henry Kissinger. Richard Perle and Paul Wolfowitz will never work in any government agency again. Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton will be parachuted into Cuba. Okay, maybe I’m exceeding my authority, but cut me a little slack, will you? Even kings aren’t perfect.

All illegals are now immediately deported. All Third World immigration is cut off except for the most educated or intelligent (hey, it’s my country, and I want the best, not the worst). Since the Democratic Party no longer exists, they can’t attempt to import the entire Third World into the U.S. in order to keep themselves in power, even if it will turn the entire nation into the Balkans. Not that they ever cared in the slightest.

The airports are completely privatized! No more waiting in lines longer than football fields. No more pathetic – no, worthless!--attempts at security. If passengers and pilots want to carry pistols with frangible ammo onto the plane, that’s up to the airlines. If they want to fire Muslims wearing diapers on their heads, great! (If the Mideast is their "Holy Land," then it should be Paradise to live in. So why are they here, and in Europe?)

All anti-discrimination laws are repealed (I’ll have to admit, it’s been a hoot watching airport "security" disrespect Americans with blond or red hair and blue or green eyes while Arabs loaded bombs, uh, I mean suitcases, into the luggage compartments of planes, or else inspected carry-ons to make sure weapons were, oops, I mean weren’t, allowed on. Such are the wonders of federal anti-discrimination laws.)

All ridiculous rules and regulations hobbling the free market are now eliminated. The gold standard is reinstated. Inflation will cease to exist. Without inflation, the business cycle will disappear. No more recessions, and certainly no more depressions.

All "federal" lands will become private. I might just give them away (and certainly not to the rich). In fact, all land will be privately owned, and none will be owned by any government. That includes all streets. So the meter dweebs can get real jobs.

As annoying as the liberals and fascist/socialist war-mongering armchair-general neocons in the media are, I’ll still allow complete freedom of the press. However, since all liberals and necons are wusses, I will cork all of them on the arm and make them cry like girls.

If anyone is abused by what little government is left, he or she can appeal to me directly. And believe me, I’ll almost always favor the citizen. Then I’ll go to the government official and kick him in his rearend. Just like Eric Cartmann in "South Park."

Can anyone imagining any of this happening under any democracy? Nope. Not even in the next 50 years. How about a republic? Fat chance, since Lincoln started the destruction of it. See how great it is to have a King, even if he is a little eccentric?

That’s enough for my first day as King. Then I’ll take a break and act the way royalty is supposed to act: gamble, drink, wear a tux and bowtie, try to look as mysterious and cool as Sean Connery when he played James Bond, fool around with the royal floozies, and wave to the crowds from my ducal Chevy Cavalier. But first, I have to find a gold cigarette case.

Hey, it’s a hard job, but I’m more than willing to stay with it.

It’s Not Fair that I Can’t Find a Rich Woman to Support Me

I don’t think it’s fair that I can’t find a rich woman to support me. Or even a middle-class one.

I’d prefer she not be a butterface, but I suppose I could put a bag over her head, the way Rowdy Roddy Piper did the frog-faced girl in “Hell Comes to Frogtown.” Maybe I can’t have everything, so I’m willing to compromise a bit. Just a little bit. An itty-bitty tiny little bit.

Betty Friedan, who was not even a butterface but more like the Medusa’s ugly sister, had one job in her life as a third-rate Stalinist journalist when young, and got a rich man to support her when she was married to him.

They even lived in a mansion on the Hudson River in New York, and to live there doesn’t mean two or three million dollars. It means fifty or a hundred million dollars. They even had maids to do the housework. I’m willing to do the housework, so money can be saved on maids, as long, of course, it’s spent on me!

If a quasi-monster like Friedan can find a rich man to support her, why can’t I find a rich woman to support me? I’m smart and funny and kinda maybe sorta okay-looking, and I’m really good in bed unless that hooker was lying to me, so how come there’s not even one rich woman wanting to support me? Huh?

It’s not like us white guys can find high-paying jobs anymore, what with Affirmative Action and all, which means “white guys need not apply.” It’s okay if we’re coal miners or carpenters or cab drivers, but try to get a job with an M.S. in Economics like one of my friends, who taught for seven years simultaneously at two community colleges and drove like 40 miles a day and was never offered a full-time position because he was passed over for women and of all things, Africans. So of course he quit. I think he collects aluminum cans on the side of the road these days.

There’s a lot more women in college than men, so us white guys are being forced to the bottom economically by law, so how about cutting me a break and supporting me? I mean, what the heck do you expect me to do? Just die, maybe?!?!

I could just never figure this out. I mean, aren’t men and women supposed to be totally equal these days? I meet all kinds of women who want to be doctors, lawyers, veterinarians, business executives, etc., yet they don’t even ask me out for a cup of coffee! I just don’t get it! Shouldn’t I have hundreds of women ask me out, like a dozen every week? Huh? Why isn’t it happening?

How come I’m supposed to be the one to make all the adjustments? It’s just not fair! I’m supposed to adjust to women having careers and all, so why can’t they adjust to me and support me? Hmmm? Why do they think it’s fair they should have access to easy high-paying jobs but get outraged if I think they should ask me out, ask me to marry them, and then should support me? What is this? They expect all the advantages of being a man and a woman and none of the responsibilities of either? Wahhh! Not fair!

Maybe there should be Affirmative Action for guys. Since according to leftists all of us are supposed to be equal, and there’s no human nature since we’re all just John Lockean blank slates, then by law woman should be forced to ask me out to make up for all those years men did it.

I suppose there could be undercover cops, and every time a man asked a woman out he’d be given a ticket with a stiff fine. Woman would have to keep a record of all the guys they asked out (let’s say two a week) and then every week report to the local office of the Federal Dating Affirmative Action Bureau and show their records to the bureaucrats there. More stiff fines! And re-education classes, too, for resentful recalcitrant women! Then of course boys would be taught in grade school only girls can ask them out. We all have to be equal! I agree with that sentiment, of course.

If the federal government is interfering so much into the relationships between the sexes in the economy, then it should interfere in romantic relationships, too. Everything is connected, you know. The economy, romance, looks.

For that matter, what does love have to do with it? It should all be about fairness. Fair and equality is what matters, nothing else!

Ultimately I suppose science can make all of use sexless identical clones, so all of us can be totally equal. Isn’t that what we really want?

It might be kinda weird at first, but I’m sure we’d get used to it.

"I'm Proud to be a Jewish Socialist Lesbian"

A few days ago on the radio I heard a woman who said she was a “Jewish socialist lesbian” moaning about the “rampant Islamaphobia” opposing the mosque scheduled to be built near the WTC.

She was of course a New York Jewish socialist lesbian.

I’m pretty good at imaging what it’s like to be someone else. You can do that when you have a strong imagination; it allows you to put yourself in someone else’s place. It’s what allows Stephen King to write so accurately about so many people, when he’s never met any of them. He just imagines what it’s like to be them.

There are some things, though, that are so strange I can barely comprehend them. It is a tribute to the empathic power of the human imagination that I can comprehend at all being a New York Jewish socialist carpet-muncher who supports Islam.

Islam treats women brutally, cuts off their noses and ears, murders them if they’re raped, encases them in burkas, throws acid in their faces, shoots or hangs them if they kill abusive husbands, sexually mutilates little girls with broken pieces of glass. These things aren’t going to change, and we’re not going to transform sand niggers into white people no matter what the delusions of those in the government.

This New York Jewish socialist lesbian is of course a leftist (she’s a socialist) and I have a hard time understanding leftism. For one thing, all of them are fuzzy-minded hypocrites, and it’s hard to for me to be a fuzzy-minded hypocrite. A clear-minded one, maybe, but not a fuzzy-minded one.

Contrary to the delusions of all leftist feminists, it is only in the West that women have been treated as the equals of men. In some ways they’ve been treated as more than equal, and always have, no matter how far in the past.

It is in the non-Western world that they are treated almost as non-human. Some years ago I was sitting at a stoplight and when I looked on the street I saw a middle-aged man, obviously some kind of foreigner, strutting down the street, smoking a cigarette, with his head up, while a few steps behind him scurried his wife, bent double with a heavy load on her back. She had some kind of covering on her head.

Around the corner from where I used to live, many years ago, lived a middle-aged Palestinian couple. The FBI had bugged the apartment, believing he was supporting terrorists.

The daughter of this couple, raised in America, was an American. I saw a picture of her: she was pudgy and unattractive and looked rather like a camel. Unable to find a white boyfriend, she had black ones. The parents did not like this, so they killed her. It was caught on the FBI tape.

The mother held the daughter while the father stabbed her to death. This is what I heard: “Die, my daughter, die.” (Screams.) “Die, die!” (Screams.)

I wonder what this NewYork Jewish socialist lesbian would think about this murder?

Leftists consider all cultures equal, which isn’t true. Yet at the same time they consider non-Western cultures superior to Western civilization. It’s an impressive feat of mental gymnastics.

Does this New York Jewish socialist lesbian really think she could be a New York Jewish socialist lesbian in an Islamic country? She’d be killed. Or does she think it will mutate into a much more benign version in the West? If she thinks that, she’s hallucinating.

Leftists don’t merely misunderstand human nature; they don’t understand it at all. They try to destroy every society in which they dwell, apparently believing once that happens all the inherent goodness of human nature will just pop up. Again, if they believe this, they’re hallucinating.

Most people don’t know it, but one of the founders of modern leftism was the Marquis de Sade. He was an atheist, a materialist and a determinist, one who considered people on the same level as insects. That’s why I know this New York Jewish socialist lesbian is also an atheist. That’s why it’s so puzzling she supports a brutal fundamentalist religion.

Leftists also, even if unwittingly, believe in the tyranny of an extremely small and politically and economically powerful clique and the enforced poverty and equality of everyone else. I guarantee you this New York Jewish socialist lesbian believes she should have wealth and power so she can “rationally” plan society.

This tyranny of a vanishingly small clique, powerful and wealthy, with impoverishment for everyone else, is why the loon Al Gore thinks everyone else should make crushing sacrifices while he lives in a mansion that uses the power of ten houses. It’s okay for him because he’s morally and intellectually superior to everyone else and so believes he should have the right to rule them.

All leftists are like Gore, no matter what their name – Noam Chomsky, Ralph Nader, Nancy Pelosi, the Clintons, Michael Moore, Barbra Streisand, Cornel West, Betty Friedan, Gloria Steinem. All are the same: they believe they should rule, have great wealth and power, and everyone else should equal and equally impoverished.

It’s got to the point I consider leftism to be a mental illness. The bizarre thing about it is that leftists don’t see their sickness: in fact they consider it health. To them, those who disagree with them are not only sick, but evil. The truth, however, is the exact opposite: it is leftism that is evil.

Pee Wee

When the nurse brought Sam into the room and his mother first laid eyes on him, she, like many mothers, exclaimed, "Oh, he's beautiful!" The nurse, having dealt with a few hundred newborn infants (sequentially, not simultaneously), had a contrary view of his looks: she rated him one above the bottom, not necessarily for unattractiveness, but for being odd-looking. The one below Sam, who had none below him, had preceded Sam by a few days, causing the nurse to blurt, “Somebody get me a bowl! I’m going to be sick!”.

As the nurse gazed upon Sam she smiled her professional nurse's smile, but inwardly she rolled her eyes up and thought, "Poor boy looks like a mouse." Although, she did grudgingly admit that if he had been a mouse, he would have been a handsome one, with a cute pointy nose, fine sleek hair and beady but engaging eyes.

Sam's father, unblinded by motherly love but still blinded by his fatherly hopes, had them evaporated on the spot. First his heart sank, then he sighed, then he gave up the thought of him and his wife being supported in their old age by a very large and very rich football player. His final thought was, "They're going to beat him up," since, when he looked several years into the future, he envisioned his tiny mousy son being the butt of many a cruel joke at school.

Right from the start Sam was an adorable baby, one who bypassed crawling and walking and went straight to scampering and hopping. His mother found him terribly amusing, as (to his great surprise) did his father, especially when Sam engaged in such antics as springing straight up in the air and doing back flips. "Let's see your son do that!" he would say proudly to the other fathers, who would suppress looks of annoyance, since their babies could do little more than upend bowls of warm oatmeal on their heads.

Sam's father was immensely relieved, indeed very surprised, when his son started school and, because of his unfailingly cheerful nature and natural comedic skills, became the most popular kid in class. His father had long since given up his football-player fantasies, and was content to not have Sam’s tail pulled or his nose tweaked. In fact, he grew quite proud of his offspring, who was so lovable and funny and talented he could bring the class down in hysterics (including the teacher) by doing something as simple as eating a piece of cheese.

Alas, all was not perfect. Unfortunately, there was one student who did not like Sam. Indeed, Toby, the one who had made the nurse run for a bowl, hated Sam, and did so the first time he looked upon him. "I do not like you, Sam" thought the sullen and surly Toby, although he couldn't explain why. Toby didn't like anyone (Sam most of all), and would creep through the school halls, ignoring everyone except when he sneakily stole their cheeseburgers and Yoo Hoo during lunch.

Toby had it in for Sam every chance he could get. When no one was looking, Toby pulled Sam's tail, and pinched his ears, and tweaked his nose. Everyone else loved Sam. But Toby didn’t. "Sam's different, but he's funny," the students said. "Toby's different, but he's creepy," all explained, claiming Toby would slink around at night glaring at people.

Sam, who quickly grew to loathe Toby, knew that with his tiny physique he was unable to defend himself against Toby's bulk. Like most students, he subscribed to the Code of Kiddom, which prevented him from complaining to the school administration, or his parents, that some kid was bullying him. So, instead, Sam rapidly became adept at zipping away whenever he saw Toby, to hide in whatever hole was handy. "The kids all like me, and no one likes you," Sam taunted Toby, from his hole. "You'll never catch me, never never ever."

Sam was right on all counts. All the students loved Sam, none liked Toby, and Toby never caught him again all through the school years. Or after school, either, even when Toby went to the immense trouble of building a huge mousetrap and covering it with the fall leaves in Sam's front yard. "That boy's going to be nothing but trouble all his life," grumbled Sam's father, grimacing as he removed the sprung trap from his foot.

Time passed, and everyone graduated. "Goodbye, you creepy Toby," Sam thought, and then, taking his father's advice that everything loose in America rolled to California, moved to that state, which, he hoped, was so full of strange people that no one would pay any attention to a man who looked like a mouse. He was right.

There, Sam blossomed. Exercising his naturally given talents, he found himself making a substantial living as a stand-up comic. "Amazing!" exclaimed those in his audiences. "I've never seen a man crawl up drapes before! And so fast!" they howled. Sam became, if not a huge success, then a pretty big one.

Life was good for Sam. It got even better when he noticed how attractive one of the women who worked at one of the nightclubs was. "Such smooth sleek hair and dainty little paws!" thought Sam, enchanted. But he was terrified to approach Doreen, wondering how any woman could be attracted to a man who looked so much like a mouse.

Screwing up all the courage that existed in his heart, (there was a lot more than he thought), and fighting the urge to hang his head, look at his paws, and mumble, he shyly asked, "Hey, Doreen, do you think you might want to go to a movie with me?"

"Oh, yes!" breathed Doreen, looking at Pee Wee adoringly (that being the pet name she immediately gave him, having decided they were soul mates, going to get married and have a home in the suburbs complete with four smart handsome kids, a barbeque pit, an aboveground pool, a dog, a cat, and a station wagon), love shining from her beady little eyes. Her cute little ears even turned pink. "Well, I'll be darned," thought Sam, in shock, "even a man who looks like a mouse can get a girl and find happiness. Will wonders ever cease?" Apparently not, he decided.

For months everything was wonderful. He and Doreen made a perfect couple, bouncing around the city and amusing everyone they encountered. Everyone adored them. "What a lovely couple," everyone sighed. Sam made a lot of friends, and so much money he would have no problem supporting his parents in their retirement. "Such a great son," his father told everyone. "And to think I wanted a football player!"

Then, one day, Sam and Doreen's happiness was punctured by the arrival of Toby at their door. "Oh, no!" Sam said in horror after he opened his front door and saw the evilly-grinning Toby standing there. "What are you doing here?” Sam cried. “Won't you ever leave me alone? You've been tormenting me since the day you were born!"

"I missed you, pal," Toby smirked as he walked uninvited into Sam's apartment. "My life's never been the same since you moved away. It's been missing something, you know? A purpose, you could say. and since you were always my purpose, I decided to move out here to keep you company."

Doreen walked in from another room and burst into instantaneous female tears (Sam was always amazed girls could do that) when she saw Toby. "How horrible!" she gasped. "Tell him to go away, Sam!" She jumped to Sam's side and clung to his arm in terror. "He's awful!" she cried, seeing into Toby's pea-sized, wizened soul and sizing up his truly cruel nature in an instant.

"Who’s the dame?" Toby leered. "Not bad-looking at all! Don’t have much taste in guys, do you? You could do better, a lot better. Like me! So why don’t you ditch the loser you’re with and come over here?"

Doreen glared at Toby and wished him, if not dead, then at least folded in half, then folded again.

“I think you'd better leave, Toby," Sam said quietly.

"Sure thing, Sammy," Toby said, still smirking his cocky smirk and running his x-ray eyeballs up and down Doreen's shapely figure. "But you're going to be seeing a lot of me. For a long time. For years, in fact. And your soon-to-be ex-girlfriend is going to be seeing a lot of me, too."

Since Toby was looking at Sam as he was leaving, he didn't see Philibert standing in the doorway, and bumped into, and off of, him, or his chest, actually, which was level with Toby's head. Toby gaped up at him and like all bullies, immediately collapsed. "Yow! Yow! Yow!" he went.

"What is dis?" said Philibert, standing in the doorway, shifting his toothpick in his mouth and lifting his upper lip to grin his feral grin and show his quite large and scary teeth. He looked at Toby and his pupils, as they always did when he was annoyed, dilated to huge black dots. His heavy brows beetled and a frown then turned down his heavy, protruding jaws. Toby's eyes bugged out of his head like poached eggs.

"Hello, Philibert," Sam said cheerfully. "This is Toby. Remember him? I think I told you all about him. Oh, and Toby? This is Philibert, my biggest fan."

Toby was too frozen to utter a word, but Philibert said, "Yeah, I 'member yoot telling me about dis guy." Philibert stared down at Toby, who stared up at the mountain of muscle, paralyzed, his hair standing on end in terror. "I got a good nose and I smelled somethin' funny over here, so I come over to check it out. Are yoot botherin' my good buddy here, buster?" He raised one huge paw, made a fist the size of a cantaloupe, and waved it in front of Toby’s face. Toby, mesmerized, wobbled his head back and forth as he stared at the fist, like a kitten watching a yo-yo.

"I, I was just leaving," Toby wheezed. "Excuse me!" He tried to squeeze by Philibert, but Philibert, who filled the entire doorway, merely shifted a bit to prevent Toby's escape.

Philibert, who was as loyal as loyal could be, and sometimes even so manic he ran in circles when snacks were around, wasn't the smartest guy in the world, or the neighborhood, or even the building, but he told the truth when he said he had a good nose. A great nose, actually. And he smelled something he found very unpleasant. "Dere's somethin' funny about yoot I don't like at all," he told Toby. He peered at him disapprovingly, and suddenly the scales (figuratively speaking, that is) fell from his eyes.

He found himself staring at the black fur standing straight up, the cold yellow eyes, the dreadful claws, the small sharp teeth. . .

"Dang!" he howled, "I know what yoot are! A miserable, lousy, stinkin' cat!"

Philibert was so stunned by his discovery that he missed his grab at Toby, who, hissing and tail bottled, flew between Philibert's legs and out into the hall. Philibert spun around and howling, "Pick on a little guy, will yoot? I'll murder you, you bum!" ran after Toby.

"Go get him, Philibert!" Sam and Doreen yelled encouragingly and simultaneously at Philibert. From the hallway came crashing sounds, interspersed with hissing and snarling, followed by chomping noises. Then came a rhythmic banging sound, much like something being swung by its tail from one side of the hallway to the other. One of their favorite pictures -- that of Philibert, resplendent in black bowler hat and stogie, playing poker with his buddies -- fell off the wall.

"Philibert's our best friend," Sam said. "And I don't think Toby's ever going to bother us again."

"Thank God," Doreen answered. "You're my hero, Pee Wee." She looked at Sam (or Pee Wee, depending on how you look, too, at him) with love in her eyes and they held paws. Sam blushed and hung his head and looked at his feet, and realized, just like in the fairy tales, that he and Doreen (with some occasional dips and bumps and an argument or two), were going to live happily ever after.
They never did disagree, however, on changing their mind about owning a cat.

Silly Adolescent Girl-Witches

When I was 16 years old and at a girl’s house with a friend of mine, the girl we were seeing, who was 15 or 16 years old, informed us she was a witch.

I had known her since grade school, and had never thought all that much of her, but now my opinion of her plummeted. There are no witches, no occult powers, nothing of that sort.

Pretty much the same thing happened about a year later. I was with the same guy, and we were with two girls in my car. I knew the one I was with, but did not know her friend, who started telling us the same thing about occult powers. She was maybe 17.

This time I told her these things didn’t exist, and she got hostile and defensive. The conversation ended at that.

I figured these silly adolescent girls were saying these things for attention, or for other ego reasons. None of them had any talent that I knew about, or were particular intelligent. So maybe they convinced themselves they were witches so they’d think there was something special about them.

A few years ago I ran across a woman, this time in her 40s, who told me she had been a witch and there really were occult powers. Same thing; my opinion of her plummeted. Even if ‘adult,’ she was still a silly adolescent girl. There are no witches.

When the Puritans came to America, they went through a witch-hysteria. Contrary to the myth, they never burned any witches, but they hanged 35 of them, all innocent.

Later, when the persecutors regained their reason, they horrified at what they had done. Not surprisingly, some of the girls were silly adolescent females who claimed, yes, we’re witches!

Had I been a judge back then, I would have told them, “You are a silly, deluded adolescent girl looking for attention. There are no witches, and you are not a witch. Go home and grow up.”

Most probably, these goofy wenches all needed to get…I’m sure you know what they needed. Ray Bradbury knew about that cure in his story, “A Medicine for Melancholy.”

God put the poontang on the silly one. And the word ‘hysteria,’ not surprisingly, comes from the Greek word for ‘womb.’

Thirty-five innocent people would not have gotten hanged in Puritan New England except for delusion. What was done in Europe was a lot worse: hangings, torture, burnings. Thousands of them. To ferret out things that don’t exist.

Even today, people still go through hysterias and believe in witches. Some years ago there was a hysteria about children being sexually abused in a daycare center. There were allegations of human sacrifice in the basement. Witches and Black Masses!

People said kids “didn’t lie about such things,” which is nonsense. Little kids don’t know lies from truth, especially when they’re coached. Innocent people were imprisoned for years until finally released.

Whenever you see mass hysteria, or the belief in any wide-ranging conspiracies by people falsely defined as ‘evil’, it’s always predicated on the belief in witches, no matter by what name you call them.

Five Minutes after the Rapture

Ralph: Dum de dum dum, dum de dum dum.

Sam: Hey Ralph, look at all this stuff lying all over the sidewalk.

Ralph: Weird…clothes, shoes, socks, keys, wallets…some guy’s dental fillings…a glass eye… an artificial leg…somebody’s heart transplant flopping around in the street…a busted-open suitcase full of martial aids…what is going on here?

Sam: Maybe it’s the Rapture. I heard about it from some guys used to go to tent revival meetings, fall over backwards and start twitching and babbling. One had his cowboy boots fly off.

Ralph: Yeah, speaking in tongues and “getting saved.” Hillbilly kitsch.

Sam: Look, a brand-new Lamborghini!

Ralph: Look at this in the front seat…a $2000 custom-made suit, a toupee with a pompadour…wallet, keys…damn, it is the Rapture, and now we get all this stuff!

Sam: What ID is in the wallet?

Ralph: Reverend Billy Joe Bob Hargis. Look what else is here…lots of condoms, a notebook with hundreds of call girls’ telephone numbers, some amyl nitrate, a copy of "Gay Boy Toys" magazine with the pages stuck together, a butt plug…

Sam: I remember reading about this guy’s house in the newspaper. Cost $20 million, a pool, helicopter, all the trimmings.

Ralph: Damn! And now it’s ours! Yahoo!

Sam: I heard he’s got a safe there with millions of dollars in contributions he never reported to the government.

Ralph: The sheeple sure are suckers.

Sam: Buncha brain-dead zombies who believe in Jesus-the-Terminator, who’s going to bring slaughter and destruction to the world because they think that’s how he’s going to save it. That’s Christian?

Ralph: I always remember Jesus putting down people like that. Ah, forget them, they’re all gone. Think of all the porn and guns and booze I’ve heard this riff-raff has in his mansion!

Sam: You know those Evangelical preachers. Either he’s got videos of himself and two 12-year-old blonde girls, or else it’s meth and man ass!

Ralph: This is great! God really did take those crap-for-brains Evangelicals, the ones trying to return us to the 7th Century. Thank you, God, even if you never did get me that pony and toy rocket I wanted for Christmas!

Sam: All fanatics of whatever religion, they’ve done nothing but impede progress. They all think they’re right and anyone who disagrees with them is evil. That’s a sure-fire recipe for disaster.

Ralph: Dibs on the driver’s seat! Vroom!


Reverend Billy Joe Bob Hargis: You call this the Rapture?

Satan: For those left behind it is. You want an ice cube? ,p>

Why Women Shouldn’t be Allowed to Vote

Before women got the vote, many intelligent women did not want them to get it. They thought they had more important things to do than get involved in politics.

I known enough women to realize why they have been denied the vote: many of them are natural socialists. One of my girlfriends, who became a libertarian, believed many women are natural socialists, and she believed it because she had been one before she overcame it.

All these women I have known, who are natural socialists, operated on the same irrational, fuzzy-minded beliefs: I am supposed to get back ten times more than I give.

In other words, people are supposed to support and subsidize them, but their support and subsidizing others is supposed to be a fraction of what they get.

I recently met a very intelligent woman who told me she was for national health care. When I gently asked her if she understood supply and demand, she admitted she did not.

I told her that while the government can control supply, it cannot control demand. It can never control demand. Since under national health care, people will perceive cost as dropping to zero, demand will skyrocket.

Since the government knows this will happen, rationing will happen, because of shortages. Sarah Palin, who understood this, correctly called these rationing bodies “death panels.”

I’m not sure this woman believed me, but when I asked her if she would take a 50% cut in pay to subsidize everyone’s health care, would she do it? She told me “that wouldn’t happen,” which of course was not the question,

I see the same beliefs among women when it comes to not understanding they cannot have a career and children at the same time. “If you quit work, and believe by law that your job should be waiting for you when you come back,” I’ve told them, “do you realize you are forcing your coworkers to cover your job, not get paid for it, and support your with their money if you get pregnancy pay?”

They’ve never looked at it that way, and don’t seem to think it’s unfair until I ask them if they should be forced to take a large pay cut to subsidize other women taking off work for two years to have a kid. They’re not for that because of what I wrote: I should get ten times more than I give.

Socialism is a female thing, even if men believe in it: we should by law be forced to share and do favors for another. We should be happy to do it and not feel resentful. And of course, socialism only works until you run out of other people’s money.

Wages stopped going up in 1973, courtesy of our evil government. Had it stayed out of the free market, I wouldn’t be surprised if the average salary would be $70,000 a year.

I estimate now less than five percent of men can support a family on their own. Yet I see meet women who think they supposed to be supported by men and are in a rage at them this isn’t happening (they’re also in rage when some guy making $75,000 a year is 5’6” and married to an Asian woman).

Since this support can no longer happen, what these women do is marry the State. They become wards of the State and live on food stamps, in subsidized housing, with a medical card, and aid for their children. A life like this does not get better; it gets worse.

One woman I know quite well believes it is all supposed to be free for her: free food, free utilities, a free apartment, free nice furniture. Of course, she is married to the State.

That’s why women have traditionally been denied the vote. A society run solely by women – a socialist society – would be a destroyed society.

The Revenge of the Humiliated

When I was in college, for a year-and-a-half I lived in a studio apartment attached to an old two-story house, in which lived 11 or 12 girls. I got to know them quite well.

Some stayed there the entire time but some left and others came, so altogether I got to know maybe 15 girls. It was an eye-opening experience.

One night I was in the room of one of them, sitting on the floor while she lay on the bed. We were listening to her records (this was before CDs, obviously). She was 21 years old, very attractive, with a very nice body.

For some unknown reason she began to tell me about when she was 12 years old. She had been ostracized in the seventh grade, she told me. She showed me a picture.

She didn’t look bad, just a gawky 12-year-old with glasses. A little pudgy. The word “nerdy” occurred to me. All these things together were enough for her to be ostracized.

That summer, she blossomed. The baby fat melted, she got contacts, she got taller, she filled out. It was the proverbial case of the ugly duckling turning into a swan.

When she went back to school in the eighth grade, all of the kids who had ostracized her now wanted to be her friends. She ignored every one of them.

Since that time, she told me, she had never been attracted to what most women would consider handsome men.

“Then who are you attracted to?” I asked.

“Men who look like Peter Noone,” she told me.

At first I didn’t recognize the name. Then she said, “Herman, of Herman and the Hermits,” and I recognized who she was talking about. I found that a little odd, because when he was popular she was about seven years old.

In fact, she married a guy who looked like Noone. I had a hard time keeping a straight face when I met him.

When I thought about what had happened to her, I realized this was a case of humiliation followed by revenge. I never asked her, but I’ll bet when some really good-looking guy asked her out (unless he looked like Noone) I’m sure she turned him down. And I’ll bet she enjoyed it.

Humiliation followed by revenge is the story of Cain and Abel, except in that case it led to murder. In Kathy’s case, being much milder than Cain and Abel, it took the form of rejecting or completely ignoring the guys who had humiliated her when she was 12 years old. She was doing to them what they did to her.

What happened to her for those several months in the seventh grade affected her for the rest of her life. You could use the word “trauma,” although I think it’s a bit strong. But there is an old saying, “Trauma demands repetition,” which is done in order to relive the trauma and make it turn out right.

So I’d say Kathy was reliving what was done to her in the seventh grade, to make it turn out right. And apparently, in her case, she was able to make things turn out okay.

Living well really is the best revenge, I guess. And turnabout is fair play. And all fair’s in love and war. And sometimes, unfortunately, love is war.

The kids who humiliated her in seventh grade did so unwittingly. Which raises the question: why is it not taught you are not supposed to humiliate people? How many parents teach this? Schools? Churches? I’ve never seen it.

I mentioned that Kathy was nerdy at 12 but beautiful at 13. That reminded me of the movie, “The Revenge of the Nerds.” And what was it about? Humiliation followed by revenge.

I don’t see much difference between humiliation and shame. In the story of the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve (who, ominously, are Cain and Abel’s parents), are ashamed when they realize they are naked. And Cain is shamed and humiliated when God rejects (rejects, the way Kathy was rejected) his sacrifice and accepts Abel’s.

Shame, humiliation (caused by some sort of rejection, which is abuse)…pretty much the same thing. They are apparently our earliest unpleasant feelings, and the cause of so much trouble in the world. In the story of Eden, those feelings are what being evil into the world.

The psychiatrist James Gilligan, who studied murderers his entire career, one day realized what he was hearing from them, over and over, was the story of Cain and Abel. “I killed him because he dissed me,” he heard over and over. It’s even become a shorthand – “dissed.” And everyone knows what that word means.

Can there be a case of revenge that is not based on humiliation and being shamed? If revenge on is not based on humiliation, then what else can it be based upon? I can’t think of anything else.

My Guide to Being Popular with Girls

When I went away to college one of the guys who lived in the apartment across the hall told me he had once been turned down ten times in a row asking women to dance at a nightclub.

I got the impression the women were trying to kill him. Ostracizing people and solitary confinement have always been the worst of punishments, worse than flogging but not as bad as crucifixion. “Why don’t you just die?!?!?” is what they were telling him.

And all he was asking for was a dance.

I’ve always remembered what happened to him, just the way I remembered a woman who told me she had been asked out by seven guys one weekend. Talk about an imbalance. Something’s very wrong here.

I rapidly decided this imbalance was a bunch of nonsense and I was going to have no part of it. I had actually tried that dinner/movie/date stuff and thought, “Who invented this crap?”

Once, when I was about 20, one of my friends told me, “You know, you look just like one of those Cro-Magnon guys in the paintings.” His girlfriend chimed in and seconded him. “He’s right; you do.”

I looked at the painting in the book and looked in the mirror. Damn, he was right. I looked Cro-Magnon. Maybe even a little Neanderthal.

So I decided, fine, I look like a caveman, maybe I should act like one.

So, one day, when I was 21, I decided to try something different. I was living in an old house, in a room. It had a weird lock, with a latch on top. Push it one way, and when you closed the door, it locked. Push it the other way, and even if you closed the door it didn’t lock.

So I pushed the latch so it would lock, left the door ajar, went into the living room (I lived in a co-ed house), and asked the girl in there (who was by herself) if she would stand up for a minute because “I want to show you something.”

When she did, I picked her up, threw her over my shoulder (“What are you doing?!?!”) took her in my room, kicked the door shut (locked) with my heel and threw her on my bed, then jumped on her.

“What are you doing? Who do you think you are? You’re not going to touch me!” All empty words.

I ended up having my way with her with no problem at all. Although she wanted to – yech! – talk afterward, interfering with me trying to sleep.

Incidentally, this caveman stuff doesn’t work with fat girls, since I couldn’t pick them up, not that I ever tried.

I used this technique seven times, and it worked every time. Most of the girls I continued to see for a little while.

Obviously it works to kidnap a woman, caveman-style. Maybe John Norman is right with all that Slave Girls of Gor stuff.

Most women are not rational. They don’t even know what they want. But I found out, by trial and error, what worked and what didn’t. And it didn’t cost me a cent.

Besides, it worked for Clark Cable in “Gone with the Wind.”

Die! Geezers! Die!

I am of course not for nationalized/socialized health-care in any form. What we need is a completely free market in health care. Costs would go down, the quality of treatment would go up, and we’d have more and better innovation.

Under socialized health care, there will always be shortages, which manifest themselves as rationing. Sarah Palin had the perfect description: “death panels.” That’s exactly what would happen.

In northern Europe hospitals very rarely save premature infants. They’re put off to the side to die. In the rest of Europe, once you reach a certain age, you don’t get treatment, just painkillers.

In Canada there is such rationing people who need treatment come to the United States. Lousy Canuck parasites!!

So if in the United States, if we choose nationalized health care, how should we ration it? Should we spread it equally among everyone?

Ha! No way! Personally, I think geezers shouldn’t get any treatment at all. They should just die! It’s their patriotic duty! It means more for me!

Since the older population is burgeoning, it’ll cost a lot of money to treat it. Astronomical amounts of money, actually. The largest portion of U.S. federal government spending is on socialized transfer programs.

Now of course this transfer spending is okay is it’s spent on me. Just not on geezers!

I think anyone over the age of 65 should get no treatment at all except painkillers. None! Zero!

What good is someone over 65 anyway? It’s not like I want to have sex with a 65-year-old woman! Blech! I want to have sex with teenage girls, specifically in between 14 and 16, preferably blond (two of them at the same time whenever possible, like the rabbi in the Woody Allen movie).

In fact, geezers shouldn’t even be given any place to stay. Let them stay with their kids! Or on the streets! Have those seen those plush retirement centers? I’ve seen them with swimming pools and in-house cinemas!

Kick the residents to the curb and open those places up to young people who need somewhere to stay! Darn those greedy old geezers, sucking up gazillions in Social Security!

We have to start using propaganda to demonize geezers. Since all propaganda is based on narcissism, tribalism and emotionalism, we have to portray geezers as an evil non-human tribe impoverishing us and greedily sucking up our wealth so they can live high on the hog while the young live in cardboard boxes! Darn those greedy evil geezers!

For that matter, why send the young to fight in wars? War is always about enriching the wealthy and impoverishing everyone else. There is no exception to that rule. Since geezers are the wealthiest of all age groups, since they’ve had time to accumulate wealth through the years, they’re making money off of young people dying in wars. Evil geezers! Send them to fight! (How’s that for some propaganda?)

Think of all the hundreds of billions of dollars saved by booting all those geezers out in the cold! The only exception to this is of course own my parents. They’re a different story!

Hey, when the State gets involved in something, people are always going to fight over who gets what from it. That’s its nature, and it cannot be changed. Under the free market, everyone wins. With the State, one person winning is someone else losing!

So, since everyone is going to be fighting and there are going to be winners and losers, I choose me over you! Sorry (well, not really), but that’s just the way it is.

Tough luck for those who lose in the fight over who runs the State! As long as I win, of course.

How do Men and Women Ever Get Married?

About a month ago (as I write this) I read a comment, I believe by a man, who observed that he was astonished than men and women ever got together.

That jogged my memory about a time in college. I lived in a studio apartment attached to a two-story house with 11 or 12 girls in it. I lived there for a year and a half, so I had plenty of time to observe these women, all of whom were about 20 years old, give or take a few years.

I noticed something interesting: the few girls who were popular always talked to guys and showed they were interested in them. The girls who were not popular sat there like bumps on logs.

One of the log-bumps had one date in that year-and-a-half, and when he called for a second date she turned him down.

Another log-bump had no dates, but one guy did spend the night, since I heard them through my wall. He left in the morning and never came back.

One of the popular girls, one Thursday night I was sitting in her room, just passing the time. For some reason, and to this day I do not know why, I asked her how many guys had asked her out for the weekend.

“Seven,” she told me. I was speechless for a few seconds, then I asked her which one she was going out with. She told me the one she liked the best.

I thought, here is a friendly woman who did like guys, talked to them and was interested in what they had to say. And she had seven guys ask her out.

The other two girls – one date in a year-and-a-half for one, no dates for the other, just some guy who spend the night and never came back. And they never showed any friendliness toward guys, just the attitude they were supposed to sit there saying nothing and guys were supposed to approach them.

I sat in my classes, always in the back row, watching students. I never saw anyone talk to anyone else in any way that showed any kind of romantic interest. Not once did I see a girl smile at a guy. I remember thinking, how do these people think they are going to meet someone and get married?

Occasionally a guy would talk briefly to a girl, but she never responded with more than a few words.

One woman I know, who was very popular with guys, told me she had been asked by the other girls why she was so popular. She told me she couldn’t believe the question.

“All you have to do is be friendly and talk to them,” she told them. Apparently this simple concept had never occurred to any of them.

Probably the strangest thing about this time in college is that there were many more women than men, so you’d think the women would be competing for the men. I never saw it. What I saw, over and over, were girls by themselves on Friday and Saturday nights.

How did I know they were alone? Because I delivered pizzas for a year-and-a-half, including to the girls’ dorms, and was just amazed that all of them were there by themselves. Not hundreds. Thousands.

I suppose if I was to have asked them why they were alone, they might have responded, “There are no guys here,” an odd response at a university with about 9,000 guys.

What they really meant was, “There are no guys here I’d be interested in,” again an odd response with 9,000 available guys. Maybe they thought they’d just look at a guy and know he was the one – love at first sight? Price Charming, which means they thought they were princesses?

Since men usually approach women, women have to show themselves to be approachable. That’s what “friendly and smiling and interested” means. Again, in college, in classes, I never saw it.

I never saw it at parties, either. Just the log-bumps. Mostly I saw the log-bumps at nightclubs, too.

Oddly, I have noticed this attitude only among American women. With non-American women I have never seen it.

It’s one of the reasons white guys go out with Asian women (who are a lot friendlier and act more interested than almost all white American women), and of course many white women get hysterical about this, even though they themselves would not go out with this particular guy. It’s as if they’re saying, “Maybe I don’t want him, but no one else should, either.” This is some kind of weird envy or jealousy that I do not understand.

I know women who are in their 40s and 50s who are unmarried and childless, and are hostile toward men because of it. I wonder if it has never occurred to them they are in some way responsible for their predicament? Because they forgot how to smile?

Ugly Girls Should Get Free Plastic Surgery

If you’re an ugly guy you can sort of make up for it by making a lot of money. Now maybe these guys won’t exactly be loved (they’re just renting it) but at least they won’t be alone.

If you’re an ugly girl, on the other hand, there’s little you can do to make up for it. This is why I believe ugly women should get free plastic surgery.

Yeah, I know, the taxpayers are actually paying for it, but if we’re going to pay taxes I have think of better uses for them than bailing out traitorous international bankers who take the money given to them and invest it in China, or to Cosmodemonic Transnational Megacorporations who do the same thing, which means exporting our middle-class jobs to our enemies.

Probably the first time I noticed the problems ugly women have was when I was 16 years old. I was walking down the street at night, going to a party, when I saw coming towards me one of the unattractive girls I went to school with.

She was walking her dog. I thought, my God, Friday night and she’s walking her dog so it could potty? And I’m going to a party with dancing and drinking (and other mind-altering substances) and girls?

As she got closer I could tell by the look in her eyes she recognized me. But then, everyone in school recognized me, even if they didn’t know my name.

I saw fear in this girl’s eyes. I thought, why? and then I realized: she thought I was going to say something mean to her.

Fear of me. Terror, almost. I don’t remember what I did as I passed her. Perhaps I smiled and said hello. Perhaps I just walked by and didn't say anyting.

I saw more of the problem in college. Some ugly unattractive woman would be sitting by herself at a party, looking sad and depressed. Once my roommate, who was even cuter than me (yes, I know, hard to believe) walked up to one and started talking to her, and boom! her face just lit up. A cute guy is talking to me! I don’t believe it! The first time in my life a cute guy has ever talked to me! He actually seems interested in what I have to say!

Another time I walked by one on the street and when I looked her at I swear I saw this desperate look on her face: please acknowledge my existence. So I smiled and said hi. It was free; it didn’t cost me at all.

Once I went to a dorm to see a woman I knew. She had a new roommate, another sad ugly girl with a depressed look on her face. I started talking to her. Her face just lit up.

Later, the girl I had gone to see told me, “My roommate thinks you’re a doll.” Well, of course. Handsome is as handsome does. Well, sometimes you can be handsome without doing anything at all!

In college I used to live in a studio apartment attached to a houseful of girls. Eleven or twelve; I’m not sure. I lost count. One night I was in one’s room, just passing the time.

This girl verged on being beautiful. Jokingly, I asked her how many guys had asked her out for the weekend. I didn’t even know why I asked her that. The question just popped into my mind.

She was sitting in front of her mirror putting her make-up on. “Seven,” she told me.

I just sat there, unable to think of anything to say. Actually, I was unable to think at all. I was just completely stunned. Then I asked, “Which one are you going out with?”

“The one I like the best,” she answered,

I thought, this is unbelievable. A good-looking girl gets asked out by seven guys, and an ugly girl can’t even get kissed. Or even looked at, just ostracized, which actually is an attempt to kill them.

When I was about 21 I used to see this girl walking down the street near my house. I don’t know how old she was, 18 to 20 probably. She was tall, shapely, and had beautiful long blonde hair.

She also had a badly receding chin. It was hard to tell, since she walked with her head down and had grown her straight hair so long you couldn’t see her face at all from the side or the front.

I asked a dentist about this and he said there were operations that would fix it. I hope she got it done, but I was wondering, what kind of parents can afford to send their daughter to college but didn’t start saving when she was little to fix her problem?

She was a perfect example of a girl who needed free plastic surgery.

Years ago I read a newspaper article about a girl who had been born with some kind of deformity on her face. One day she threw a brick through a store window. She got the surgery she needed, but it took a brick and her getting arrested.

I drove a taxi for five years, and saw a lot of street-walkers and strippers. Unattractive, almost of them. Did they become what they were to get attention, because there was no other way to get it? To some degree, yes.

I got the same answer from a girl who had been in porn films. Why did you do it? “Attention,” she said.

I’ve also noticed some ugly girls don’t get depressed, but hostile. I can think of two in college who were very hostile toward me, although I treated them as normal girls.

The only reason I can think of for their behavior is that they might have had crushes on me, which they thought I ignored (can’t ignore what you don’t know about) and so responded with that “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

So I’ve decided ugly girls should get free plastic surgery. Think of all the hundreds of millions of dollars that’ll be saved by not using anti-depressants! And the elimination of the hostility! And there won’t be ugly hookers and strippers anymore, so only the good-looking ones will be left!

An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, that old saying tells us.

Besides, I have my own selfish reasons for wanting them to get plastic surgery. It’s not like I want to have sex with ugly women! Blech!

The Box of Porn on the Top Shelf in the Back of the Closet

A woman I know found out about two weeks ago a man she knew had died prematurely about four months ago, at the age of 43, from a heart attack.

He had a small house, full of belongings. His parents did not want to deal with the problem and were paying the rent on his house but otherwise had not touched any of his property. This had gone on for four months.

They told the woman I know to take care of it. So we went over there and cleaned the place up, and cleaned it out.

I got his golf clubs, his coffee bean grinder and a bunch of coffee beans, his Dremel set, his shoeshine kit, a bottle of port and Jack Daniels whiskey, some shoes, socks, his big-screen TV, a set of German-made chef’s knives, his stereo, a boxed paperback set of “The Lord of the Rings,’ a bunch of DVDs and tapes – and his pornography.

One of the two women over there was looking in the closet and saw the Box on the Top Shelf in the Back.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“That’s his pornography,” I told her. “Guys always keep it on in a box in the back on the top shelf in the bedroom closet.”

“You can’t know that. That’s stupid.”

“Open it.”

“EEEEECK!!!!”

There were some sex toys for women, too. She wanted to throw all of it away, but I told her, no, I’ll take care of it. There is always someone who wants the stuff, except maybe the used sex toys.

I’ve had to explain to several women that pornography is harmless. The dangerous man is not the one interested in it. The dangerous man is the one who has no interest in it.

For a few years I read a lot about serial killers. Hard to understand these nuts. But I found out certain things – none of them have a normal sex life.

And none of them are interested in pornography. Their idea of sex is torturing a woman to death and having sex with her corpse. Sometimes, parts of her corpse, after she’s chopped up. Sometimes they cannibalize her.

Ted Bundy admitted he had no sexual desire at all and was not interested in pornography. But before his execution he was able to con one of those fundie loons – and all of them seem to be obsessed with everyone’s sex life – that porn made him what he was. He was manipulating this buffoon and lying through his teeth.

The non-existent cause-and-effect that some see just amazes me. Watching people have sex on screen leads to rape, serial-killing, dismemberment and cannibalism. That’s as stupid as liberals who think little boys playing with plastic guns leads to murder and war.

I’ve never had much interest in porn myself (and I’m not a serial killer). But I remember one time in particular when I was about 35 and in a hotel room with my girlfriend. She wanted to rent some porn on the cable, so I said sure.

I fell asleep. Right before I nodded off, I told her, “Watching people fuck gets awful boring really quickly.” That’s how harmless the stuff it.

My experience has been the people who are obsessed with getting rid of it have that obsession because of their intense interest in porn and their inability to handle it. The way I see it, the fanatical and obsessed politicians and religious leaders are the fags, child molesters, whore-mongers and various other kinds of sexual predators. Not the average person watching porn.

When I was driving a taxi I once almost got arrested when the vice squad caught me transporting a hooker. I had no idea she was a hooker.

Turns out the sting operation was aimed at the county prosecuting attorney, who was obsessed with hookers and putting them in jail. At the same time he was seeing hookers himself and got caught on tape asking one for a blowjob. He had been doing this for years – all the time putting those working girls in prison for up to a year. And putting their customers’ pictures and names in the newspapers.

It’s not porn that’s the problem – the problem is the people obsessed with getting rid of it, because they can’t handle their own interest in it. It’s as if since they cannot change themselves, they’re trying to change everyone else. That’s one of the reasons why I’m a believer in that old saying, it’ll be a much better world when the last politician is strangled with the guts of the last preacher.

“Me thinks thou doth protest too much,” wrote Shakespeare. And, yes, he
was right.

Pistols as Equalizers

I once had a girlfriend who decided to be a libertarian and therefore also decided that firearms are good things. Unfortunately, sometimes, there is a disconnect between what one thinks and what one feels.

Intellectually she was all for firearms. Emotionally she couldn’t touch one. I once took her to a shooting range; she couldn’t hold a firearm there, couldn’t shoot one, and told me her hands were sweating just being around all those guns.

That’s when I decided women should learn to handle firearms as little girls.

Firearms are equalizers. That’s what they were called in the Old West, because a woman who carried one was equal to the biggest, strongest man.

I did finally get her to hold my unloaded .32 semi-automatic, but still could never get her to fire it. Even today, she still has never fired a pistol, although she fully understands “a liberal is someone who’d rather see a women raped and strangled with her pantyhose than defend herself with a pistol.”

She once wrote an article for an online magazine about having never shot a firearm, and she told me she got 300 emails from guys wanting to show her how.

That’s why I tell women, you want to meet a lot of guys and be really popular? Tell them you want to learn how to shoot. There will be flocks of men swarming you.

Hate to say it, but I think about 90% of women are natural socialists, which is why so many of them think guns are yucky things and delude themselves with the utterly ridiculous idea that if boys don’t have plastic guns there won’t be any wars when they grow up.

I tell them all guns are harmless. They’ll lie there forever until someone picks them up and uses them. It’s not the tool that’s the problem; it’s the fool.

So, then, fathers (and smart mothers) are changed with the duty to raise their girls to like firearms, and to remove that socialist instinct in them.

Personally, I’d like to see all women like firearms…and knives and swords…and Vulcan mini-guns…and laser rifles…and Barsoomian radium pistols!

It’d be a much safer world.