Orthographical Scraping

Not their technology, our technology!-- Jason Cope

I freely confess that my page views from Russia perplex me. They surge in my darkest moments, engaging in confirmation bias or astonishment, even ridicule, perhaps exploitation, then recede when I have a valid critique, or perhaps to them, I am a unique specimen, the now wavering invalid who defied Google, the Philadelphia police, University of Pennsylvania’s psychiatric procedures, and my rental agent, only to fall to family and a shyster excuse for a wheelchair technician. Such largesse would not be granted to me in the post-Soviet Putin era, not being an apt love interest for the traitorous Edward Snowden, but whatever is going in the globe’s largest, but sparsely populated nation, which could be quite easily defeated by the Chinese military, something which I am sure our intelligence agencies know better than I on the sheer strength of numbers alone, I was not manipulated by Russian propaganda during the election cycle. Like many in the right wing, Trump was not my first choice during the primaries, but I was then an independent, and do not engage in backing a particular political horse, state or nation-wide, all that often. Trump prevailed, and I was actually going to throw my vote to the libertarians. Instead, I took pity on my aunt. I concede, during my unhappy engagement with Yabberz, that some of the spin on the Clinton Foundation may have been doctored, but this was not an influence on my vote. That goes to Monica Lewinsky and the Starr Report, because it is just possible that we would have been just that more vigilant about the rise of Al Qada and Osama bin Laden had we the people not been in an uproar about impeachment and sexual impropriety during President Clinton’s second term.

Now, the dowager defended Bill in her communities, as the Senate voted down the House articles, but in the aftermath of two decades of terrorism and failed neo-conservative warfare, I put the onus for this on the Clintons. Had the Clinton administration heeded the rising temperature of Islamic radicalism, GW would not have had a rationale for Iraq 2.0, in our failed game of chicken with Baathist prawns. This is how my pyramid is built, and continuously disappointed, my gravitation toward anarchy no better or worse than what has gone before. District 9 remains my favorite niche film in the science fiction genre, and I’d argue that it isn’t quite as ironclad for progressive tolerance as meets the eye, though it never references apartheid overtly, because native black South Africans inhabit an anomalous place in the energy of the documentary narrative. Regardless of Blomkamp’s intent, we come away uniquely challenged by his unique little gem: first contact might neither be as transcendent or malicious as the industry often feeds it to us. Arrival tilts its axis on the same pole, and opts for the benevolence of Close Encounters of the Third Kind, or Starman, never quite considering Blomkamp’s striking thought that we’d wind up with Serbian camp conditions instead. Having been around since Khrushchev and the fabled shoe tactic, I have no love lost for collective state models, nor modern leftist cult style corruption which results in the death of Putin's opposition. I have been disenfranchised by corruption on the American left, and while I may not be the enemy of Slavic mindsets, don’t presume I am your appeaser either. Implosive anger such as mine often leads to attacks on the social altruism towards which we naturally incline, such as those striking Austin. I’m quite aware of that, though in this case, if law enforcement is correct that this involves music industry figures, that adds up to quite a bit of specious hemlock. So we wait and see, wondering if Greg Abbott will have a political life after his tenure.

That Nick Gillespie liked two of my tweets since I started supporting Reason isn't a job contract, and it doen't mean Brian will green light my next pitch. The magazine is just this side of too California for my tastes, but since I desire to keep exploring libertarian themes, it is nonetheless a small hope against alarm at the occasional spastic tremor.

Black Adder, Wobbly Amin

"I am not kind, I'm vicious. It is part of my charm." -- Clifton Webb

Forest Whitaker oozes with a glutton's agitation. In a world where whites like the hard menace of Shaft, Whitaker is Fat Albert, edgy and twisted with angst by turns, this asserted with only passing familiarity with his recur on The Shield (a series worthwhile here for its stark honesty; I know, I know, I may never get to it, and only know as much as I do about it because Fox ran it after midnight for a stint and I regret not taking more care--another day). But I do not mesh with viewing Chiklis for much the same reason.

Hypermania is difficult to perform without annoying your audience. Chiklis has it, James Woods finesses it. Whitaker wobbles attitudinally, which is why he fails as a lead. Playing off Foster in Panic Room just works. Prat boy with conscience picks a side, securing his sentence in the process, but Diary of A Hitman doesn't, because it's a slobber, much as of course casting him as the colorful African tyrant.

Big daddy is a fading species. Idi. Papa Doc. Baby Doc. They peopled our latter day socialist stagnation, which is now going to send our republic into convulsions. I am drawing closer to George Will's colorful umbrage, and think the president should resign, but then again, the 43rd president is a war criminal. The 44th dulls Harvard's preeminence considerably. I no longer believe in the American two party system. I do believe Whitaker has an authentic touchstone in The Crying Game. Fat boy out of his depth, playing the hand he had, with bleary gaze, just enough blubber to evince inner city terrain and poor nutrition. This leads to brain plaques, the aggression of dementia. His portraitures may be adept, but not memorial in any conflated measure of acclaim.

Perhaps intense malevolence does have a ripple herd like effect, given the extraordinary cluster of spree killing episodes we have to field. Perhaps the Coke a Cola security footage commercial has a point.

Anti-Trust Harpsicord

"I've been missing in action for over a month."-- David Carradine, swinging funerealist

Solutions are always trickier, and always imperfect, but one I can suggest off the bat is to bifurcate advocacy from case management systems. The disability center services recipient controls absolutely nothing. They are merely led to believe otherwise. The ones with the control are the fund allocators for Medicaid waiver services, and, as I've previously indicated, I have some research to do.

As Cassie used to empower her troops by commandeering Septa vehicles, she was also perpetrating the continuation of class conflict (cf Blue Collar) through the intimidation of non-unionized primarily minority CCT drivers, CCT drivers who also victimize and infrequently kill their clients due to poor training, criminal jackets. And Ms. James knows this is a valid charge on her doorstep, has been investigated by the DOJ, and in contemporary terms she mews softly, defanged and spayed.

I've always believed in more constructive engagement, even in terms of old American cities with impossible transport authorities.

For those of you who've suggested work at home on per hour basis solutions, I am not excluding the option, merely hampered by phlegm derived inflammation welling up through my Eustachian tube, building up the ear wax. Writing is and must by necessity be an insulating process, but I need constructive social engagement, not from Presby, and certainly not from 714 Market Street. Linda Dezenski may stay healthy when she is through eating her own by fidelity to the process, but I cannot be in that environment, even after I force her resignation. 

Developmental Fecal Discharge

I will put enmity between you and the woman, between your offspring and hers; they will strike at your head, while you strike at their heel. 3:15

Sean is not an ideologically committed Marxist. As channeled through Mickey Rourke, Penn realizes the film industry is a business. Dead Man Walking and I Am Sam reflect this. Both cater to the popular impulse. Conservative reaction is corrupted tunnel vision. Progressives are the bona fide heroes in this argument, but don't push your audience too hard, driving it to the mat, for the state does have legitimate interests in protecting children from developmental limitations. Sean wears Sam like a fashion statement, much like his politics. Where was he, or this prima donna, when this poor child needed rescue? We don't see things in the film that just barely scratch the surface. Mentally retarded people can be aggressive, thereby possibly abusive to offspring, as much so as the paradigm discards them. Cassie James is a militant exhibitionist; my critique will not change that, but for all her static, she apologizes for case management racism, her psyche divided and contradictory precisely because she failed to matriculate outward.

Actions can speak louder than words, and she quit Liberty twice, the first time as my peer support counselor, which is nothing but a fraudulent method of being tone deaf, repeating the concerns of the nascent inductee back to them, the second time for marriage and a move to Britain, where upon an accidental pregnancy, she has an existential crisis akin to my own, and Nancy flies to England to bring the ADAPT firebrand home, tail between her legs. I despise Cassie James almost as much as I hate what Linda did to me. They are both analogous to the thunderous collapse of the Twin Towers. Penn, however, has a creative artist's versatility. Leftist that he is, the dialogical interplay in some of his riskier roles offers another language, something authentic in the merger of paranoia and a skewered perspective that is as conversant with the Outsider as one of Eastwood's westerns with their snark. Cassie just hits scales with a spoon, tone deaf, keeping Depends as brand name adult diaper viable in the rhythm and commerce of our capitalist system. She paid her dues. I have no issue with that, as opposed to the corruption she maintains, soiled, stinking up the hallway, as blind in her vision as Rush Limbaugh.

Does anything I post get back to the vanguard at the center, and its political arm? I have no data on that and don't care, not after the hoops I've jumped, but much of what ADAPT does backfires, intimidates (hello), and has negative consequences. If Cassie was as principled as her public rhetoric is to be believed, Liberty Resources would actually take pride in being a competent system of support. In its 30 years of existence, it vomits as much entrails as it elevates on the other, much like Sean's hairstyle generates electricity. 

Anarchist José Saramago

Also, of course, you inevitably pick up some friends you could manage without: to wit, queers, neurotic ladies, Jewish psychiatrists, Muslim boys, and young Presbyterian assistant ministers. Those who hold this position (which I do not hold) would argue that the responsible citizen necessarily gives up. The situation is hopeless, and as a reasonable man the responsible citizen becomes indifferent. All the available options disgust him, from Ayn Rand to CORE to the Birch Society.
--The Sunlight Dialogues, location 1128-29