A True Blue Sexual ReView

I know I’ve said it’s impossible for me to do “a quickie,” but I’m going to try dammit. The current issue I’m working on, The Burning Ring of Fire, is blazing out of control at the moment, so I’m going to try to pull whatever items I deem inessential to the crux (yes, chose that word for good reason), and pump them out in this release [¡ah!], along with some other stuff backed up in my queues. Enough wordplay. Let us begin.

I got cornered a couple of times over the past month. The experience I will not be discussing herein is what prompted the article mentioned above, the other was a headache at best. It happened while I was playing Texas Hold’em along with some other bar patrons. Hm. Why is poker, a game older than Jesus (that’s hyperbole), suddenly the biggest rage in the country? Few trends in today’s controlled society are natural. What’s the reason for this Tarot-connected (arguably, distorted) flow of kings, queens, vaginas, clubs [¿phalli?], diamonds and alphas?

The game screens were interrupted by an advertisement reminding all the chumps to be sure to turn of all their lights for the upcoming Earth Hour [Hm, 88 countries? Zig Heil!] and I kidded an acquaintance that I was gonna turn every single light in my house on to commemorate and he was saying he’d do the same. Yea, it may have been unoriginal, but all you guys that turned off your lights are complete fucking morons. The people behind WWF. They think you’re a piece of shit. {*1}

This woman then sat between us and started grilling me about the specifics behind the “global warming” theory in a very methodical tedious detail oriented manner. I defended my position for a while but quickly grew weary of her. She was causing me to miss hands of the poker game and irritating me to no end.

“Why is it so important to you that I explain specifically how the whole notion of man-made global warming would work. It’s utter nonsense.”

“Because you seem to be smart. And I think it’s important that people who can express themselves be able and willing to explain things to people. Your buddy there just shouts things out but has absolutely no idea how anything works.”

“It’s not my job. It’s really simple. If you wanna know if the earth is cooling or warming, just turn off your goddamn tv and go outside.”

“But, you need to be able to get out there and explain it to people.”

“Look. It’s a bullshit theory. There’s another bullshit theory that if you force-feed a monkey tequila, margarita mix and ice, that he’ll shit out a frozen margarita. Do you expect me to waste my mental energies explaining to people who’s lips are already pressed against some monkey’s ass that there’s no frozen margaritas a comin?”

She really did my head in. She wouldn’t let up, even following me to the parking lot just in case she hadn’t caused me enough aggravation. I told her I had far more important things to focus on than convincing people that you can’t make monkeys shit frozen margaritas and even wrote down this web address for her. She tore it up, cause apparently, she already knows everything she needs to know, and instead gave me her name, saying I should look her up, cause she’s “famous.”

Fame, oh we would trade our souls for it. Sometimes, I wonder how many people my words are actually reaching. I do know of one, who has now become my cyber-stalker. If I recall correctly, this may be a sign of this Celtic Rebel is now famous too. There were four steps/tests to see if one qualified as “famous:”

1. People know you by the name of your persona, and refer to you as that.

2. People speak of you positively and negatively based on your public persona, presuming to know something about how you would respond to a certain situation, or something about your life.

3. Random media-entranced women, enamored by your persona, give you blowjobs without a second thought.

4. You start looking over your shoulder when you go out, cause people on the fringe have become so obsessed with your persona, true lunacy may ensue.

Wait a minute. Wait a fucking minute. What the fuck? God-damn! Mother-fucker! Shit! Piss! Cunt! Jehova’s scaly fucking balls! I’ve been robbed. I’ve been robbed. What happened to step 3? WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO STEP 3?

Interestingly, said person now reads my blog regularly and leaves a comment every single time [unpublishworthy]. Perhaps, there is a bright side? Perhaps, this soul, after absorbing all this data, will rise above the quagmire of programmed disconnectedness and become and elevated man. Perhaps, in his quest to prove me insane, he will become learned and take my studies a step further and school me on points where I’ve gone astray. Will the student become the teacher? And perhaps I should get me a pet monkey so I can make my own frozen margaritas. {*2}

Technical difficulties are currently preventing a They Live style exploration of Idiocracy or George Romero. So, may not be able to get to the list in order. On the other hand, there is so much insanity going on in the world around us at the moment (as addressed), it’s becoming more of a challenge not to let synchronicity dictate what I write about next. Maybe I should just concede the sanity issue to my detractors, cause in today’s world, to be sane is insane. Letting the lunatics run the asylum, once unthinkable, suddenly seems like not such a bad option?

“And I remain on the far side of crazy
I remain the mortal enemy of man
No hundred dollar cure will save me
Can’t stay a boy in no man’s land.”
– Stan Ridgway, The Far Side of Crazy

Feeling I had merited a night of inebriation and hole-chasing after my last post, I treated myself to a night downtown. Before I even got to the door of the dance club, I had two handsome young men tell me how cute I was and offer to make out with me. Argh! Where is that goddamn line of women cued up to fellate the Celtic Rebel? After the club let out, I did see one girl engaged in rather aberrant behavior. She ran around the parking lot beating the crap out of anyone who came across her path, leaving at least five people, three guys and two girls, bloody in her wake.

Sanity? This rebel managed to avoid intimate physical contact by sidestepping her, much to the detriment of the “gangsta” boy behind me, who was busy looking all so cool and tough up against the wall. His cornrows were neatly done. He had his big chains on, and that cross-armed “I’m one bad mother-fucker” look down. Well, as she beat the crap out of him, all he could do was lay on his back flailing his arms about like a little girl. After she left, he got up and went through his robotic media-programmed tough guy routine: “Oh, that bitch is lucky I didn’t see her coming. I’d fuck her shit up man. Oh, she better not come back. I’m gonna fuck her up.”

That was worth the price of admission [$4]. I was laughing like hell and thinking, “Um. Dude. I just saw what happened. If she came back around she would kick the shit out of you all over again.” This young man was obviously a victim of media-programming long before he became a victim of testosterone girl. MTV taught this young black man exactly how to look tough and menacing [¡and which name “brands” to brand himself with!], but not how to actually defend himself in a situation. Hence, our “topic” will be media programming of America’s youth.

Anyone notice how Gatorade is now “G?” Gee, I wonder why? Is there a new formulation now? Something beyond electrolytes [whatever the fuck those are]. I wouldn’t drink it (Stygian Port had something to say about the Bolt on the Bottle). Let’s see: if G is the seventh letter of the alphabet, then G2[0] is 77. “G” is also slang among the youth now for “gangsta” … e.g., “What up G?” Anyone who’s looked into the culture, should be able to to trace where all that crap came from. The Crips (blue doo-rags) versus the Bloods (red doo-rags). The dialectic. Coke versus Pepsi. Why kill the darkies when you can con them into killing each other?

I am guilty of spending some time reading the comments in various online forums where I was brought up. Most of the comments were positive, but I took more interest in the negative ones. To those who hate me, I’d just like to inform you the line to beat up this Celtic Rebel is a hell of a lot longer than the one to fellate me [nudge nudge, wink wink], but the most interesting ones I came across were those accusing me of being a “disinfo” agent? Huh? “Yo man. Da Rebel’s a disinfo agent. He contel pro! He be lying. Weez gettin smahter, not dumber! What up G?”

Turning to the positive, a Danish woman wrote in expressing how she wishes there were people in her life she could share this blog’s content with, but there are not. I do realize a lot of what I get into here, dare I sound pretentious, is beyond the realm of beyond the realm of the comfort zones of most. I can empathize with some of my readers, as the deeper I turn within and explore the realm of consciousness, there are fewer and fewer people in my life I can have real conversations with. [Note: the above is a rebel-modified PETA poster.]

This blog can be like Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates in some ways, which poses some risk to those trying to share. On some online forum, one reader linked to this site saying something to the effect of “you guys need to check this guy out, he cuts through all the bullshit.” A few hours after he made his link, I released one of my truly wacky spiels [may have been about the anus] and those who clicked on his link then proceeded to berate and dismiss him. I’m sorry guy! Bad chocolate timing.

I guess I’ve done it again now. Focusing on historical topics, as I did last issue, normally results in drawing in some new “faces“ with an interest in the normally staid field. Indubitably, some such prompted person may now be in here saying, “This guy’s deep? He’s talking about blowjobs and getting laid?” Per my personal growth however, as the above image resonates, we need to meditate on every aspect of our being to understand the cosmos. I’d suspect many who’d write off my present stream of phallic exercises as inappropriate, would have no qualms taking family pictures in front of the Washington Monument.

Which reminds me, I promised lots of sex, but here I am blogsterbating about what, if and why. Sorry! Let’s start with the cock, the “real thing.” One other “thing” I noticed while watching The Watchmen [¡hm!] is we do get to see a lot of the Blue Man’s penis. I know a lot of children will watch it, so I do have to ask, despite changing mores, is was it absolutely necessary? [though, the repeated bone-breaking violence is far more harmful to minors than a swinging dick]

In consideration of the second image above, it now makes complete sense why this [accidentally] self-realized “god-man” would be naked. I put that in quotes, cause this imbecile of a god works for the Rockefellers, has a government “handler” [hence, we can assume he’s mind-controlled] and kills whatever dialectic enemies his handler tells him to [in the case, the Vietnamese], rather than the war profiteers that cook up the war and divide the human organisms into cancerous camps slowly destroying the Earth Organism.

Hey Dr. Aten! Why don’t you take your blue penis and go fuck yourself with it!

What the hell do the Blue Man Group and the Jew Man Group, despite a now obvious tie to Big Blue itself, IBM, have to do with this? Nothing and everything. Read on.

I know times have changed and we can expect all sorts of fleshy bits to now be a staple of films aimed at kids, but did you older folks imagine you’d see the day where you can’t turn on the TV without seeing an ad for erection-pills or penis “enhancement” pills? Speaking to the latter, and those who think mankind is on the verge of some leap, is that not proof of further descent into utter mindlessness?

That topic, along with a few other things, like the timely war of attrition between Al Qaeda and the Easter Bunny, came up when I called in to Lee Rodgers one night [video]. In lieu of my having a functioning mike in the meantime, those who wish to hear this rebel babyl-on will have to settle for these radio clips. To my friend Charles Nemo, the source of the quotes I failed to credit in the clip, I’ve been looking more into Howard and will be doing a proper Conan article one day.

Back to Doctor Blue for a second, when he was visited by other characters in his “lab” to talk about Sirius matters, wouldn’t one have said, “Look dude! I’m trying to talk here. You can like rearrange molecules on seven different galaxies simultaneously. Are you not capable of covering up your junk?”

Does the ad below [right] seem like it’s aimed at old men or young ones? We hear one [side] effect of Viagra is supposed to be blue-tinted vision, but to anyone out there dumb enough to take anything from Pfizer, let’s not forget hearing loss and infertility. Who knows what other eugenics agendas are at work?

I got a 3:00 AM phone call from a 20-something guy who lives down the street one night, asking if I had any Viagra. He explained it was an emergency, cause he’d done too much of a few substances and had to “fuck his girlfriend” that night. First of all, I was wondering what made him think I, of all people, would have any pharmaceuticals around, but secondly, and more importantly, wasn’t this the same girl who he was moving away with the following morning and was now engaged to? Why was it so damn important that he sport-fuck her that night?

I’ve read articles of women discovering how their boyfriends of long periods always took Viagra without them knowing it and have talked to people who’ve observed this phenomenon with guys as young as their late teens. First of all, it’s not a “phenomenon,” it is simply media conditioning. It’s this sport-fuck porno-trained impersonal ego-driven moron-fed moron-repeated monkey-see monkey-do indoctrination posing as that is our cult-ure [sometimes, words do not lie].

While I will try to steer clear of Blue Movies, I will point out that Hugh Heffner [i.e., HH=88. Zig Heil!] recently dropped his aging set of triplets [they were 31 — oh the horror, boobs had surely fallen down to their knees], for a pair of lovely mindless 19 year olds. Hm? {*3} Anyway, is anyone else not slightly DISturbed by the hypocrisy of this 83 year old man shagging a pair of identical twins 64 years younger than he, while all over the Crown Colonies you’ll find 21 year old men serving jail time for having sex with 17 year olds? Blue Hefner? What the fuck is that???

Lastly, the person I stole the monument[al phallus] image from is a friend named Black Sheep, who was a recently befuddled to receive the below center image/message from some girl on his friend list. I brought up VHEM before but didn’t think the movement had recruited too many of the zombies yet. Some guy even got a tattoo of it? Red level alert! 😉 The only possible bit of wisdom I could share with the Dark Sheep is: try to find out if she’s cute, and if she is, be sure to get a blow job from her before she offs herself. Otherwise, the real tragedy of her life might be a perfectly good waste of fine snatch [sync a’comin].

Anyone dumb enough to join this movement, started by the same set of elitists that started the World Wildlife Fund, should just off themselves now (before they infect others), cause they are a disease in humanity. If this planet is an organism, we are its cells. The idea we should wipe out all the cells in order to save the organism is about as fucking stupid as Thoth/Thoughts get [pretty much the whole idea behind chemotherapy – by idiots for idiots]. As for the diseased cells, if they’re beyond curing … well, bon voyage! And why the fuck is there a T on the end? Never mind, by idiots for idiots and this idiot was just dumb enough to ask “why?”

I had considered saying the following before, but thought I’d come off like an asshole [and I still might]. Shortly after writing of my social engineering experiment [note: Kozmikon found yet more proof that my ideas are being stolen], it occurred to me, that I was already engaging in a weird metaphoric form of bestiality myself, sex with various women around this country. I’ve long grown out of my own ego-fed predilection to think I am God’s gift to women, and realize now the only thing that makes me special is that I actually bothered spending some time researching how a vagina, and more importantly, the biggest sexual organ, the human brain works.

I’ve since learned that the penis and vagina have certain energy points that when they line up exactly, allow the transference and blending of energies between a man and a woman. This can only takes place if you stop and find the precise union, and I would assume takes some practice, and much patience. No room for that in a world of sport-fucking! While a friend was informing me of the theories of Taoist Sexology and Genital Acupressure, a bell [of truth] rang about an older topic (exposé): another reason they’ve been so focused on conditioning the sheep to use condoms. Just programming us to be DIS-FUNCTION-ALL.

Words themselves, or should I say, their etymologies, do not lie. Dis aka Pluto was the Roman god of Death and Wealth [make mental note of that combo]. Zombies are conned into using condoms, missing out on sense-ations that separate humans from robots, thus shifting/moving themselves further from the former and closer to the latter [make a note of that too]. Again, nothing is hidden. I was going to put together another Trojan image as a follow-up to the point I made before, but Salvador Dali could definitely see what was going on behind the veil.

At one time in my youth, I may have been guilty of “boasting” of my sexual prowess, but looking back now, I can see and laugh at my own folly. I was that one guy out on the Special Olympics track jumping up and down among all the paraplegics, shouting “I AM THE BEST! In your face you legless mother fuckers!”

I will expand further on how and why the social engineers have made sexual relations yet another choice between two equally extreme and equally false dialectics; the non-intimate sport-fuck “let’s get this over with” versus the you are now my emotional prisoner cause I put my cock in you [substitute vagina/me/you as appropriate]. However, I have to save that for the long overdue Relationships are Dead article. Suffice for now, for those of us, such as myself, stuck somewhere in the cold blue middle, I’ll share the now apropos words of Andy Partridge:

“It isn’t even winter and I’m shivering, shivering,
Waiting for the love that’s not delivering,
What I want to know, man,
Why oh why,
Does she treat me like a snowman?“

That last phrase takes on a delightfully sharp double-meaning after the image of the Snowman? “Seems like I’ve been here years and years and years and years.”

Sadly, of late, the reality of our degenerating species dictates my having to scale back and not overwhelm these misguided creatures in the bedroom. I know I’m short-changing myself too, but I so dread the scene that’s sure to follow. Circuits overloaded, their programming leads to only one conclusion when they are on the receiving end of a “normal” sexual experience. They look at me with those puppy dog eyes, convinced I must be Neo. I must be Prince Charming. I must be the one!

They sure did move/steal/destroy the American imagination didn’t they? Why are the movers dressed in blue? Oh, and do you guys like this photo of Miley better?

To all you people that have daughters, please don’t short-change them in life. Do not turn them over to Disney imagination-stealing machine whatever you do. One of my friends is having this problem with the way his ex is raising his daughter; princesses and Disney themes all about the room. He tried to dissuade her, but her only response was “I grew up on Disney and I turned out just fine” [for fear of losing his visitation rights, he dared not answer that rhetorical falsehood].

It’s mind-control from the start [as I’ve written about at length already]. The symbols are all there. The band to the right, though unrelated, just seems like kind of weird random sync when considering what’s happened to pretty much every sex goddess the machine has put forth after they’re done with her.

Another friend of mine is doing her best raising her daughter on her own, even though she has her challenges, she has done one hell of a job. Her eight-year-old is such a pleasure to be around. Unlike most girls her age, she is still very much a little girl. My friend’s secret? When her little girl comes home from school having been picked on cause she didn’t know the latest Hannah Montana tid-bits, my friend honestly tells her, “Well, I don’t want you watching her, cause she’s a little slut and I don’t want you to turn out that way.”

I know it’s a struggle for those with kids. I keep hearing of the dilemma of raising a social outcast, but I think if you comprehend the true agenda [DO READ], the answer is obvious. I recall a line from Schindler’s List, when “evil” German Ralph Fiennes, asked what he’d do with his Jewish consort girl, said, “I think it’d be kinder if just took her out in zee woods and shot her.” You may as well do that to your daughter rather than turn her over to Disney. It would be kinder:

DIS-ney is it? How obvious must it be? Yet there are millions, and arguably billions of fools out there, who still associate the imagery with wholesomeness, because they have been brain-washed to. While looking for photos to compile the above montage (a plus side to the Google privacy-destroying machine), I found one little man out there who’s instincts about Disney are 100% dead on.

Said friend also called me last night, after walking in on a Nickelodeon commercial. “I just saw a commercial for some candy, where some girl band was signing a song called Lick It, Dip It, Suck It.” Oddly, later when I repeated it back to her it came out “Lip It. Dick it.” Wonder if there’s subliminal crafting there? You guys try it: say it three times fast. Was hoping to include it here, but it remains unconfirmed, and a google search only turns up erotic body candy.

At same downtown club mentioned earlier one night, I was exposed to some music that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I recalled reading some “science fiction” book as a kid about the future and how humans “liberated” from mundane tasks, wouldn’t even need to bother writing music anymore; that could all be done my machines. “Oh my god. That future is here,” I thought while listening to the machinations of some effeminate boy-band named the Metro Station.

As synchronicity would dictate, the very next day, a friend, unaware of my revelation, called while doing some promotion work at a concert by said band. “You won’t believe this, well, you probably will.” She continued, “This band has blow up sex dolls on the stage with black tape over the crotch and nipples.” Now, I’ve seen all sorts of crazy things at concerts, and would expect such at these Dionysian events, but this was a concert aimed squarely at young girls.

The average age of the attendees was 11! The above and below pictures, taken at said show, should support that, the fact that they were chaperoned and lastly, that they all adore [The Celtic Rebel]. There was a non-egotistical reason for that.

The singer for the band is none other that Miley Cyrus’s traumatized effeminate brother, Trace [adopted by Billy, so we can ASSume his stargate exit has served as an entrance on many occasion]. My friend was hanging out in the back area where all the parents were (most girls there were not old enough to drive) and she looked around at the strangely silent crowd, asking, “Does this not bother anyone?” Only one woman said something: “Yea. This doesn’t seem right to me.”

But did anyone grab their daughters and take them the hell out of there? No. When the band started shouting, “How the fuck you doing [INSERT TOWN NAME HERE]? I can’t fucking hear you,” some parents began to make some rumblings about the “potty mouths” on the boys and how this was “unacceptable.” What I derive from the event is that the average parent of today, doesn’t really care if their daughter grows up to be a whore, as long as she doesn’t talk like one! Gotta keep up appearances. Who cares what a jumbled twisted pile of shit she is on the inside?

I guess I should add the same parents were also remarkably silent when the band was shouting, “You know you wanna do us,” at their daughters. I tried to forewarn another friend who was sending her 10 year old to subsequent show of what she was in for. Her response? “That’s horrible. Well, I’ll tell her chaperone to make sure to cover her eyes during that part.” Huh? Through the whole show? What is the point?

I’m not going to get into the trap of using words like good or evil to describe what’s going on. Looking at the big picture, it can be argued that our social engineers are just planning ahead. If your Fabians are nearing the end of their agenda to turn America into a third-world nation, it could be argued/rationalized that the acts of the social engineers who are preparing the inhabitants for the new economic opportunities that await them could be considered, “kind.”

So, American women have methodically (a) been liberated (while gaining nothing), (b) had their self-esteem taken from them, (c) been made extremely materialistic (bags and shoes, bags and shoes), (d) been subliminally convinced that stripping is an easy way to make money off suckers, (e) seen countless predictive programming vignettes on TV featuring hot girls scamming dumb guys for drinks, and alas, (f) been presented with a stream of role-models that speak like a rehash of Jerry Springer’s liberated teen slut: “I do what I want.” Yet that last phrase, under the surface, translates to “I behave exactly how the media has programmed me to.”

Congratulations Mothers of America. Your daughter’s next course: Whoring 101. Come all Oil Sheiks and Chinese industrialists. American women are [somewhat] hot, dumb and cheap, cheap, cheap! Oops! Sorry, they forgot to tell you that strippers don’t make money in a down economy. What will you do now honey?

I should note the first of the above pics, while poignant, allegedly came out of a amusing misunderstanding. {*4} The latter is Tabitha Vixx, a gift from the social engineers. The reason they don’t tell girls that by the time enough of you are lured into stripping, only whoring will buy you those shoes and purses from Sex and the City, is that they need you to make that decision, cause you “do what you want.” Genius isn’t it? I have to respect genius. I don’t have to like it, but I do respect it.

I remember when I returned back to America, having missed yours of pop-culture [i.e., programming] and was hanging out with some new friends. One of them accused me of being a “pimp,” and since I took slight offense, they had to explain to me [cause I was like so out of touch] that “pimp” means “player” and “smooth with the ladies.” How many people ever stopped to ponder why concerted effort to rebrand the words “pimp” and “hoe” in a positive light is taking place?

In a discussion off a prior article, the Zack and Mira Make a Porno movie was brought up, and I suggested it was likely another subtle effort to program Americans for their new third world status and further degenerate us/them. While that point could be argued, whether they actually make money at it or not, the degenerative effects are the same. And I must ask, why the hell is Kevin Smith still making movies? Didn’t he run out of original ideas after Clerks? Oh, it’s cause he serves the agenda. Why else do you think such uncreativity would be promoted?

I haven’t seen the movie yet (can’t say if I ever will), but in said discussion Stygian Port informed me of a scene where during anal sex, some woman empties her bowels on some guy’s face. Yay! Lovely! So, now I gotta sidetrack into anal sex and the idea that by disrupting the flow of the internal stargate, the “top” can steal life force from “the bottom.” Not my theory, but alleged to be a subset of the secret knowledge the Templars brought back from Solomon’s Temple.

One lovely girl who I’d spoken to on the topic a long time ago, mentioned that she was fed up with her boyfriend trying to crawl up her ass, literally. I ran into her recently and her first question: “So, remember what we were talking about last time. Just curious, if someone like loses their life force in that manner, is there any way to get it back?” My question back to her was my answer. “Do you have a cock between your legs?” [Gee, I wonder what transpired since I last saw her.]

Now, I can’t say without a doubt how much life force can be lost/stolen via said manner or exactly how the process would work. My sis remarked she had seen some gossip site label 20 year old Brooke Hogan as “haggard;” already looking kind of worn out for a girl her age. Then, I recalled the above [left] image from prior blog, where I pointed out her father Hulk’s bizarre fascination for his daughter’s ass.

Moving on to boys, as I surmised before, most of them will be losing interest in vagina anyway. Looking at these fabricated popular boy bands we see and undeniable pattern, from New Kids, to Fallout Boy, to Jonas Brothers and bands like the above. They are becoming more and more effeminate. The latest “boy” band to hit the big time is Tokio Hotel. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner:

I kidded a few people that sending this band to Tel Aviv was a sheer genius method for the Germans to get back at the Israelis for all the money they stole from them. One boy band can do far more harm to a society than a million Messerschmidts.

In the center poster, they [the engineers] hint to the aware and mock the clueless: “Step into My World.” Below, past arguing over whether the repeated use of the butterfly meme is just mindless repetition of subconscious implants or something more sinister, we see butterflies used in a poster featuring an, ahem, boy.

I’ve already spoken of how easy it is to reprogram women with a direct media barrage. Men, as I also said, are a little more difficult. But men, will do anything to get some pussy right? So, now the next generation of young women going into colleges and attending the fertility rituals [i.e., spring break, etc.] will be looking for drunken sport-sex with guys that appeal to them [i.e., “the look” that disney, nickelodeon and mtv conditioned them to masturbate to in their formative years].

So, a safe assumption is the effeminate looking boys will be doing a lot better than the few remaining boys that look like men. Older guys might observe the pattern and mimic the look. Well, as anyone who understands psychology should know, if you wear the dress [i.e., uniform] long enough, you become the dress/uniform.

As I keep saying, nothing is hidden. The misguided Metrosexual “Movement” was ditched aside, but the train to the Forever War future is still chugging along. Why call some manufactured band the Metro Station anyway? So they can laugh, while us sync-hunters go “Oh my god! It’s the next stop!” Meanwhile, the general populace [aka duMASSes] just keep barking, “You guys are crazy. The media has no influence on people. They just reflect what people wanna see.”

By the way, that was the same regurgitated “opinion” I was forced to endure this weekend, from some 40-something guy arguing that bisexuality is “Completely natural for women, but not for men.” So, to him and all his ilk, let me just tell you now, that your sons are gonna be a bunch of cock-suckers and you’re gonna like it:

The above scene is from a fairly good black comedy of the 80’s called Heathers. Basically, a smarter/darker version of Lindsey Lohan’s mind-twisting Plastics of the predictive programming Mean Girls movie. Here’s the clip of above scene, also found the sync to my “perfect waste of” VHEM[t] “snatch” statement.

If you don’t believe me, well go fuck yourself. I’m not gonna go to the trouble of explaining everything step by step again [SIMPSONS]. Is there any other excuse for the below crapola programming your sons are being subjected to? And again, I don’t think it’s “evil,” it’s a lot better than having a bio-weapon released.

A Gay Blue Bunny? As for the center image, in consideration of what I wrote on the Fabian pattern, I wasn’t too surprised to find the above movie released. It’s plot: “Friendless Peter goes on a series of man-dates to find a Best Man for his wedding. But when his insta-bond with his new BFF puts a strain on his relationship with his fiancée, can the trio learn to live happily ever after?” Even funnier than the plot is the other poster: which lets you know it’s coming soon [not so Fabian anymore] to you, while they laugh at you dumb monkeys.

In a related matter, an Irish woman wrote in telling me how she’s been gay her whole life, doesn’t harm anyone and was wondering why do I think she’s “bad” for society? I don’t know why anyone would get that impression. The boys at the UC who were screaming and hollering for me while I was on stage singing Diana Ross’s “Where Did Our Love Go” would laugh! The cat-calls ranged from “honey,” “cutie,” and “dreamboat,” to the occasional “bitch,” “tease” and “poser.” “Homophobe,” was not on the list. Then again, I truly do whatever the fuck I want. 😀

Actually, I do know why people get that impression. It’s this stupid over-charged media-driven atmosphere of political correctness that has intentionally fucked up the ability of people to point out the social engineering taking place. If I had dime for every dumb-ass robot out there who every time they say anything about someone being gay, adding, “not that I think there is anything wrong with that.”

Fuck political correctness! Fuck it! Fuck it right up the ass! In the days before Baskin Robbins [mystic] 31 flavors, you had three choices: vanilla, chocolate and strawberry. If you don’t like vanilla, don’t fucking eat it. If you don’t like chocolate, you are free to say “I hate chocolate ice cream,” without having to add the unnecessary, “not that I think there is anything wrong with it.”

Speaking of political correctness, someone pray tell, please explain to me why that douch-bag Bill Maher’s show on HBO is called Politically Incorrect? How is his show the slightest bit incorrect? “Ooh, look at me, I’m Bill Maher, on my show I’m not afraid to make fun of upper-middle class white guys and Arabs. We’re sooo out there.” Why don’t you go fuck yourself, Bill! Oh, you already have [06:18 MARK].

If you don’t like strawberry or vanilla or chocolate, that’s fine. It does not make you a racist. It doesn’t make you a homophobe or a “misogynist.” Go ahead say it. I don’t like black people. I don’t like white people. I don’t like Jews. I don’t like Polynesians. I don’t like short people. I don’t like fat people. I don’t like skinny people. I don’t like the Irish. I don’t like the Celtic Rebel. I hate everyone.

Not liking someone doesn’t make you a racist. When you start taking away other people’s choices, e.g., just cause you hate chocolate ice cream, you try to prevent others from eating it, or having access to it, that is when you move from just human to racist. When you go past restricting, to liquidating the world’s chocolate ice cream supply, you’ve moved from racist to [pardon pun] cold-blooded killer.

The media’s all too happy to tell us whenever some member of whatever minority is “victimized” by some members of a majority, and then shout meaningless words like “hate crime.” But, Gates and Bono, as pointed out previously … these sick eugenicist racist fucks are decimating the black race in Africa and not one, not one, media outlet of any significance calls them out for the racist fucking pricks they are … no one [except yours truly and a few others].

Look at me! I just turned 18 and am expressing my individuality by getting a tattoo on my ass, just like everyone else! Wealth and Death. Wealth and Death.

Have you noticed how the media’s even trying to paint “slut” as a “harmful” word now? Aimed at more high-brow audiences [dumb fuckers who think they’re smarter than their neighbors cause they have more refined taste in the programming they subject themselves to], both Bravo and IFC aired a documentary on the “damaging” weight that “horrible” word carries. It’s like misogynistic and stuff!

To the maker of the documentary, here is some sage rebel wisdom. “Look you dumb slut. The reason they call you a slut is not because you have sex with people. It is because you do so only because you are a shell of a person who grew up indoctrinated to hate yourself and that the approval of males, even via physical contact, somehow validates your ego and temporarily keeps at bay the loneliness you feel cause Disney programmed you that some retarded guy is gonna come along and make everything that’s wrong with you right.” You’re welcome. There will be no fee for my services this time. Deprogram yourself before it’s too late.

It’s that stupid dialectic I speak of: monogomy or whorishness. Some lovely Russian girl ended our follow-up date to our New Year’s ‘hook-up’ with “I can’t kiss you again until I get to know you better. I was a different girl that night.” Wait, I just lied to you again. I think I was actually responsible for ending that affair via my response, “Well, then what am I doing here with you? Why don’t you give me that other girl’s number?” But, I am so sick of this programmed dysfunction.

That occurred before I delved into mind control and multiple personalities. Her ethnicity kind of synchs with Ben’s post and my research into the field. Maybe I should have just made an attempt to access her kitten alter? Humans. Are we so hard to find? Elvis Costello summed it up pretty good a long time ago. To me, it speaks of precisely of the male/female theme I’ve been talking about (though the beauty of Declan’s words is how they are open to personal interpretation by many):

“They say you’re nothing but a party girl
Just like a million more all over the world
I know I shouldn’t be raising my hopes so high
But I have seen the hungry look in their eyes
They’d settle for anything in disguise of love
Seen the party girls look me over
Seen ’em leaving when the party’s over

They can’t touch me now
You say you don’t mind
We’re so hard to find
I could give you anything but time“

File away that last line in the back of your mind until my next episode. The song above also reminds me of another lost opportunity. It was me vying for some girl’s attention against one of these stupid white boys from the suburbs that talks like he grew up in “the hood.” He kept going on about how yours truly was a “G” and his momma was a “G,” and how she told him some nonsense about how if he “was gonna be a good layer, to be a good lawyer but not a good doctor” or whatever.

I’m not turning this into a catalogue of lost coupling opportunities, but returning to my point about the reduction of humanity to a bestial state. What was the point of me trying to be funny and charming, when it would have been just as [if not, more] effective if I scratched my nuts, while repeating, “Ook! Ook!” The other reason I bring this up is while looking for photos of a white gangsta, as some call them “wiggars,” or more appropriately, as I prefer, “wankstas,” I came across the above revealing blue sync. Take a long look it and draw your own conclusions. {*5}

Speaking of conclusions, did I again prove myself a liar by saying I always “scale back” now? Here I am stuck in between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea. So many True Blue syncs out there well beyond the Bluebird of Happiness [or the Bluebird of Fellatio as I’d occasionally refer to him]. But, I GOTTA wrap this up. I’ll just point out my own bit of shock while checking what Kotze was up to, and seeing Mum’s Blue Willow china pattern displayed in his Something Borrowed Something Blue.

Since we did delve into sluts, I have a confession to make before I go. I am guilty of having watched, with some regularity, MTV’s Paris Hilton’s My New BFF show (can’t mention sluts and exclude her). Someone correct me if I’m wrong, but her two qualifications for fame were having crawled out of a smelly brand-name vagina and her fellating a rather smart fellow and then releasing the video on the internet?

At first, a friend and I [no worries hon, I’ll honor the pact and won’t tell anyone who got sucked in along with me], tuned in to see what kind of messages/programming the show was offering American’s teenagers. It wasn’t too bad. Lots of crying. Lots of mindlessness. Lots of whorishness. Unfortunately, lots of putting Paris up on a pedestal as some type of goddess, and lots of sucking up to her.

There was some humor too. For example, her telling one of the girls she was letting her go cause “she was too wild and Paris had a reputation to uphold.” [Yes, she said it with a straight face. Now that’s some Emmy-worthy acting for you!]

I will also have to confess to developing a bit of crush on one of the contestants, Shelly Burkett, a tall skinny delicious 22 year old beauty from Houston, Texas. She was a “devout” Christian and also, a “virgin.” What? Have we found the Last American Virgin? {*6} Oh Shelly! Honey, I would so tear that [hymen] up!

As for Miss Burkett [she’s the brunette above with the nice long gams], I can’t say my friend and I were rooting for her to win. We thought if this girl had any hopes for self-realization she’d quit [Though, her photobucket pics and her myspace page suggest it might be too late. She may have a hymen, but she doesn’t have a clue.]/ I think we were both half-hoping, this girl would have a moment of clarity, realize the folly of what she was doing, and express herself [honestly] on the show:

“You know what Paris? I just realized that you’re a dumb-fucking whore and this whole show is a charade and runs contrary to my Christian values. I’m voting myself off this show. I want no part of preaching to young girls that acting stupid, wearing expensive clothes and squeezing every remaining brain cell out of their heads is glamorous. As a matter of fact, I’m going to stop going to church and I’m going to start to read and interpret the Bible for myself. And I’m ready to lose my virginity now, but not to brain-dead loser with a nice car. I’m gonna fuck the Celtic Rebel.”

“He’s gone away from us, Jack.”

La la, la la la la la la la! Brasil. La la la la la la la la!

If you wanna hear the song playing in my head at the moment, here it is. Well, that’s it for this week, I gotta go smoke a cigarette now. You anti-smoking advocates can pucker up your anus cause you’re safe for another week or two. The next issue is a don’t miss. It’s gonna be a real barn-burner.

That wasn’t a quickie was it? Did you enjoy it? Was I good? Was it the best ever? 😉

 

A Few Other Arbitrary Celtic Rebel Posts on Related or Similar Subject Matter
Apr 2009: True Blue Sexual Review	Jan 2010: Seventeen Yet Again
Dec 2009: EyeConoPlastic Reality	Jul 2008: If the Glove Doesn’t Fit

 

*1: I touched on the twin demon prince founders of the WFF before. Oh, and feel free to substitute “Nazi Youth” for “National Service Corp” and “Global Warming” for “Man-Bear-Pig” in the image. [LB]

*2: There’s another fanatic out there who, unable to cope with my having exposed Parker and Stone, goes from forum to forum trashing me. The only reason I mention him now is cause I guess in the meantime, those numbnuts put out a cartoon where an elaborate Margarita maker was a plot element. Note the date of said encounter. I beat them to it. I got witnesseses. [LB]

*3: The topic of Blue Movies, also known as XXX Movies, also known as Pornography came up before while looking at Brother Oh! Bam! Ah! Wait a minute … ditched 3 X 31 (year-olds) = the Thelemic 93, for a pair [duality] of [master-key] 19 (year-olds)? What’s he up to? [LB]

*4: The story goes the picture actually represented the Mom selling the last snow shovel available at Home Depot, after a blizzard. Personally, I suspect the whole story sounds a little suspicious. Amusing nonetheless. [LB]

*5: I’d say one the most extreme examples of media-induced retardation I ever had the pleasure of witnessing, was a party where a bunch of these wankstas were telling “niggar jokes” about how “dumb” black people are. These very same “comedians” listened to nothing but hip-hop, wore the uniform of the genre and regularly barked out “What up dog? What up G?” [LB]

*6: So, the Last American Virgin [sadly, over 12 at least] is not [the jewess] Diane Franklin [of that, we have proof], whose name came up while looking at human degeneration poster-boy Quentin Tarantino. Speaking of, saw him on the TV last night and he looked really old for his age, and a lot more effeminate than he used to be. I guess the rewards for his talentless fame took an anally-exacting and life-force draining price, huh?

Connecting this side-track all together: Frankenstein (whom Tarantino resembles) leads me to recall and realize the old story may simply a reverse-Osirian homo-erotic tale [i.e., start with perfect penis, build man to go along with it]. So, was Doctor Frankenstein Jewish too? I don’t know. 🙄 [LB]

~ by celticrebel on April 15, 2009.