Monday, September 17, 2018

The Establishment Hates a Sloppy Imperialist

Regardless of how you feel about the son of a bitch (or his apparently abortion-shy bitch mother), it's becoming pretty hard to ignore the fact that the establishment, personified by both major parties, the legacy media, and the so called intelligence community, fucking hates President Donald J. Trump. With the New York Times latest revelation of an inter-administration resistance and Bob Woodword's latest tabloid airport flyswatter, the movement to remove or contain our red-headed stepchild of an Electoral College despot has never been more vibrant. This puts me in a pretty weird position, not just because I've devoted my life to bitch slapping bigots like the Donald and upsetting the fanged mandarins of the establishment who so oppose him but because I find it strange that these fellow swamp critters despise each other so damn much.

Some of this is obviously theater. Donald Trump ran a successful campaign largely on trashing the Fourth Estate that Middle-America has come to despise for their impressive track record of fooling them into unwinnable wars and shitty trade deals. And the Fourth Estate made this campaign possible with their round the clock coverage of the free-wheeling MAGA circus. Every time the press attacks Trump he gets to play the role of the anti-establishment victim that his fans identify with. And every time Trump makes some vaguely fascist empty threat against the mass media they get to play the role of the embattled crusaders for truth. In both cases, Trump sees his approval numbers go up and the press sees their ratings go up with them. It's a mutually abusive, codependent relationship straight out of a Dr. Phil rerun.

But this still doesn't fully explain the devotion that the mainstream political elite have to actually physically removing the Ginger Duce from power. In spite of all his Buchananite Isolationist rhetoric, Trump is still essentially one of them, isn't he? Born into money, the Donald made his mint off the kind of corporate welfare that fuels the sickening lifestyles of this countries vaunted rapacious oligarchy. He threw cash around to all the right monsters, bankrolling a rogues gallery of Rockefeller Republicans and their Clintonian cousins (including the Clinton's themselves). And his presidency largely reflects this grotesque legacy. The Donald loves all the horrid filth his establishment enemies love, unwinnable wars, Wall Street giveaways, minority strangling police states, all that good shit. Contrary to all Trump's America First bullshitting, he's essentially just another imperialist swine in a ten thousand dollar suit.

So why do the heroic imperialists in the "Steady State" despise their fellow pigfucker so damn much? My theory, if I could distill it down to a single sentence; Donald Trump sucks at imperialism. If there is one thing the establishment has come to hate more than the dreadful Isolationist ("No! Not peace!") it's a sloppy imperialist. With all his buffoonish bluster and irrational hissy-fits, Donald Trump makes the American Empire look bad. If you read the screeds of the NYT's Anonymous and Bernstein's bottom bitch close enough, you'll find that the biggest complaint Trump's fellow charlatans have is that he makes America look weak again in front of the geopolitical competition.

Where as past presidents have eliminated our pesky problem of freedom seeking refugees discreetly, Trump turns our cruel immigration system into a spectacle of barbarism befitting a Pasolini picture. Where as past presidents have framed our imperial NATO protection racket in Europe as some kind of globalist Kumbaya love fest, Trump shows up like his cigar-chomping slumlord father and barks "Where's the fucking rent?". Where as past warmongers waxed philosophic about humanitarian intervention and the right to protect, Trump rants and raves about blowing the shit out of people and stealing their oil. The sick fact is that Trump isn't doing anything that Obama, Clinton, or Reagan wouldn't do, he's just moronically laying bare the harsh reality of the American way without any of that razzle-dazzle showmanship that we've come to expect from our career politicians. And the other big boys on the block are taking notice.

It was the Donald's Sam Kinison style fire breathing that convinced South Korea to elect Moon Jae-in, a refreshingly rational pacifist who took the initiative with China's help to start a peace dialogue with the North before Trump decided to switch gears and take credit for it as if he planned the mess all along. Even as Trump does his damnedest to sabotage the deal from within, peace on the peninsula rolls on unabated. America is on the verge of losing South Korea to the influence of their more coherent neighbors and Iraq and Syria aren't far behind. This may not be a fix for America's bloody War on Terror but god help me if I can't see this as a move in the right direction. This is what the Steady State fears, the death of American prestige. The rest of the world welcomes it with open arms.

The hysterics on the right wan't to view Trump's war with the establishment as the scourge of a creeping deep state and the hysterics on the left wan't to look at it as an Orwellian battle for democracy. They both may be right in their own myopic way but this anarchist prefers to look at it as imperialist on imperialist violence, and god knows the only good imperialist is an irrelevant one. In spite of the short term gains on the home front, both Trump and the Grey Lady are well on their way out. I say good fucking riddance.

Hand me the remote, dearest motherfuckers, let's see what else is on.



Peace, Love, & Empathy- CH



Soundtrack; Songs that influenced this post

* T.V. Eye by the Stooges
* Middle Sea by Yuck
* Surrender by Cheap Trick
* Mr. Brightside by the Killers
* T.V. Party by Black Flag
* Cherub Rock by Smashing Pumpkins
* Son of a Gun by the Vaselines
* The Wagon by Dinosaur Jr.

Monday, September 10, 2018

A Politically Incorrect Guide To Not Being a Dick

Political correctness is a fucking bust. It may have started with the best of intentions but so was the Russian Revolution and both ended in bourgeois tyranny. Political correctness has been more or less the law of the zeitgeist since the early Eighties when the radical feminists teamed up with the puritanical Reaganites to poop the raucous party of the Seventies, after the CIA unleashed AIDS to kill all the fun faggots (I'm only half-kidding). And in the proceeding decades the PC revolution has achieved absolutely nothing. Black and brown people are still poor as dirt. Women and femmes are still roundly violated on a daily basis. And the prison state has never been stronger.

The only thing political correctness really achieved was making it easier for bigots to hide behind the facade of good manners. Based on policy alone, the Clintonian Democrats clearly despise brown and queer people as much as those knuckle-draggers in the alt-right, they just know how to cover their ass with careful newspeak like "super-predators" and empty gestures to people who disgusted them three weeks ago when they weren't politically viable. Personally, I'll take an open bigot like David Duke over some squishy closet-basher like Alec Baldwin any day of the week. At least that silicone supremacist will call me faggot to my face.

So the current backlash against the malign influence of political correctness is not only totally natural, it's also totally necessary. But that doesn't mean you have to be a fucking dick. The reality is that marginalized individuals such as myself do have plenty of reasons to be pissed off and straight white cis-folk could strongly benefit from learning why and realizing that their mainstream cache does afford them some privileges that the rest of us don't have. I'm willing to bet that most of you can enter a public restroom without having to seriously consider the possibility that somebody might set you on fire for having the wrong genitalia. But nothing gets solved without conversation, so I've decided to put together a few suggestions on how to be politically incorrect without being a total dick.


#1.  Assume Nothing-  I've got a bumper sticker that reads that and it's good advice for everyone to follow. The biggest problem with race and gender relations today is that everybody already has everybody else figured out and they're all usually wrong. This can be easily ameliorated by quite simply assuming nothing about anybody until they tell you otherwise. Not every woman has a cunt. Not every inner-city black man is a gang banger. And not every redneck is a cousin-fucking racist. I'm a genderqueer dyke but I'm also a foul-mouthed, pro-life, anti-imperialist who cares much more about Yemeni genocide than bathroom rights, though I would appreciate not being lit on fire. People are more complex than black, white, gay, straight, cis, trans. Just stay open to infinite possibilities and get ready to be surprised.

#2.  Ask Questions-  If you don't know something, just fucking ask. Some people will get offended but most people will appreciate the effort. Ask a black person why they smoke menthols. Ask a gay person how they decide who rides on top. Ask a trans person why they pee sitting down (I don't, those seats are fucking heinous). Don't expect everyone to be comfortable with giving you an answer. Don't expect one person to speak for an entire population. But by all means, don't be afraid to fucking ask. Bigotry loves ignorance and the silence political correctness spreads ignorance.

#3.  Words Matter Less Than Context-  Patti Smith once sang, "Jesus Christ was a n*gger, Mahatma Gandhi and my mother too. We're ALL fucking n*ggers!" For those of you who don't know (and shame on you), Patti's a white bitch and she's far from a bigot. Her statement was one of solidarity from one oppressed person to another. It's the same reason I make regular use of words like faggot, tranny, dyke, and queer, just to name a few. To me these are terms of endearment, of love for my people. And if some hetero-cis-boy tells me, "You know, for a tranny, you're alright", I'm gonna respond, "Well thank you. For a breeder, you aren't half bad either". That doesn't mean your lilly-white ass should waltz into the nearest bodega and shout, "What up, my niggas!", there is nothing genuine about that kind of imitation which is why you'd probably get your ass kicked in. There are no bad words, just bad (or dumb) intentions. The most hurtful thing anyone ever told me was to "just be normal". The Catholic Church did a knock-out job of teaching me how to hate myself and they didn't have to call me faggot to do it.

#4.  Empathy Is Everything-  The biggest problem with the world today is that so many people seem almost medically incapable of putting themselves in other people's shoes and this cuts both ways. Suburban liberals don't ask themselves why someone would vote for Trump in a post-apocalyptic Rust-Belt town. Traditional conservatives don't ask themselves what it must be like to be a stranger in your own body. And Americans don't ask themselves what they would do if they came home to find their family on the business end of a Tomahawk missile. We need to remember that we're all just people, regardless of our tribe. You don't have to agree with someone or even like them to respect their right to live their life however they damn well choose.


Political correctness may be a bust, dearest motherfuckers, but human kindness is always a boon. Take it from a white-trash-tranny-n*gger like me, you don't have to be politically correct to not be a dick. You just have to give a fuck. Give it a shot, dearest motherfuckers, your honky-breeder ass might just like it.



Peace, Love, & Empathy- CH



Soundtrack; Songs that influenced this post

* Voices Carry by Sky Ferreira
* Rock & Roll N*gger by Patty Smith
* Express Yourself by N.W.A.
* Mamma Tried by Merle Haggard
* White Minority by Black Flag
* The Day the Niggaz Took Over by Dr. Dre
* You're No Rock & Roll Fun by Sleater-Kinney
* A Boy Named Sue by Johnny Cash

Monday, September 3, 2018

Who's Afraid of Comrade Hermit?

Its recently been brought to my attention by a well respected member of the libertarian literati that my writing more or less sucks. I wont name any names, god knows I've burned enough fucking bridges, but suffice it to say you would know who he is if I did. This isn't a new complaint. I've heard it before but the certain terms of his criticism and the fact that I actually respect the son of a bitch made its way through my armor like a spear. Unfortunately for him, the only way I know how to cope with such turmoil is through my bad writing.

His gripe was a tired old sawhorse often tossed about by white cis-gender libertarians. What it basically amounts to is that he's uncomfortable with my "personal" style of narrative. He's revolted by all the I, I, I's. I this, I that, I hate war, I have feelings, and I share them with my work, and apparently I shouldn't fucking do this. Fair enough. My writing is personal. I'm a personal person. Things like war and the state effect me deeply so I express those feelings honestly through my prose. Apparently this along with my penchant for profanity makes my work unpublishable by the big shots of libertarian online journalism. Apparently my work is too unconventional to meet their sterling standards of literary integrity.

Well fuck them. Apparently those cunty know-it-alls have never heard of New Journalism. If it was up to these self-appointed Mandarins of the fifth estate Hunter S. Thompson, Tom Wolfe, and Matt Taibbi would have never been published. Apparently they skipped class the day their staunchy universities taught about Gonzo Journalism. The basic message that I've gotten from these people is that I'm too different. And they call themselves libertarians?

I'll never understand this, alleged radicals who devote themselves to political liberty somehow justify artistic tyranny? The peace loving ex-hippies who evolved from sticking daisies in the barrels of rifles to editing major alternative news sources want everyone to fucking write the same. There is no room for forms of expression that deviate from the company line of stale, detached, masculine, editorial order.

Who the hell do these people think they are? You're all for pot, pussy, and peace but my deadly I, I, I's are a bridge too far into chaos? You're crusaders for free speech but  you uphold the grey flannel rule of the seven deadly words? And you have the fucking gall to look down your crooked little noses at real fucking radicals like my friends Tom Knapp and Keith Preston for not being capital L libertarians and publishing degenerates like me? This is what's become of the fifth estate? A bitchy little clique of elitist brats getting high off their own flatulence? To quote television's finest egoist, Rick Sanchez, "You wanted to be safe from the government so you became a stupid government!"

To me the avante garde and radical politics of any kind have always gone together like sadism and masochism. Embracing one but rejecting the other isn't just heresy, it's just plain fucking boring. Somewhere along the line these guardians of the digital underground became a petite version of the conformist legacy media that they mock. Somewhere along the line they began to take themselves too goddamn seriously. They lost their sense of humor and they lost touch with what the free press really means.

I strongly suggest they look to the message boards beneath their carefully structured articles for a reminder. These places are hives for true liberty, where all manor of libertarians, anarchists, stoners, Stalinists, truthers, trannies, third positionists, cryptos, and perverts come together to break bread and bust balls. There are better writers in these cyber trenches than the people who get published above them. That is what real democracy, both political and artistic, fucking looks like. Take fucking notice.

These dearest motherfuckers on the fringe of the fringe are my people. They've made me a better writer than any chickenshit, role crazy, editor ever has. I just wanted to cross that editorial line one time and be the first freak on the board to see my name in the big print. I wanted it for me and I wanted it for them. But if I have to bite off half my tongue to get there then it's not worth it. I won't become like them, the other them, I'm better than that. I'll take authentic obscurity over establishment validation any day of the fucking week and you can etch that on my gravestone.

I asked that glorified desk chair hall monitor what he was so damn afraid of. He responded that he was afraid of publishing bad writing. That hurt, but it shouldn't. Coming from a sell-out like him, that's a goddamn compliment. I said a lot of things in response to his unwarranted low-blow, a lot of angry vitriolic things that I probably should have kept to myself. But here's what I should have told him; You're goddamn right I'm a bad writer. I'm the baddest motherfucking writer you'll ever snub. And you should be afraid. You should be very afraid. Those who fight mainstream scum all to often take their place, which will damn you to the same fate of utter irrelevancy. Let my bad journalism be a reminder that your "good" journalism is a one way ticket to circling the drain. Say hi to Dan Rather when you get there, you chickenshit conformist.

...And to you few proud dearest motherfuckers that read this post, all I can do is sincerely thank you. You have given me the only gift a starving artist truly desires, an audience. For this I can only wish you these three little words...



Peace, Love, & Empathy- CH



Soundtrack; Songs that influenced this post

* Take This Job and Shove It by Johnny Paycheck
* Where Eagles Dare by the Misfits
* So What by Ministry
* I Think That I Would Die by Hole
* I Walk the Line by Johnny Cash
* I Bet On Losing Dogs by Mitski
* Chickenshit Conformist by Dead Kennedys
* Everybody Does by Julien Baker
* My War by Black Flag
* My Way by Sid Vicious

Monday, August 27, 2018

Notes From a Sputnik Leftist

Russophobia has become America's new favorite form of bigotry. You can't jaywalk in this goddamn country without being accused of first degree Putin puppetry. This cold borscht of xenophobia has been brewing for some time but it has taken on a whole new spiciness with Robert Mueller's blockbuster witch trials and the alleged pervasive Putinist conspiracy to subvert our so-called democracy. The shocking thing, to me at least, is that even stalwart elements of the radical left have been effected by the fumes of the latest Red Scare. One of my favorite writers, CounterPunch's Jeffrey St. Clair, has taken to referring to Russiagate critics such as myself as the Sputnik Left. It's cute. I kinda like it, but then again you are talking to a non-binary person who takes tranny as a compliment. I've never been particularly hesitant to embrace the role of the villain. After all, who else is going to blow up the system? But there are still bones to be picked and I'm just the bitch to pick them.

The general stereotype of the Sputnik Left is that we're a bunch of bitter, Putin loving, conspiracy theorists who ingest RT like cheap caviar and maintain a decidedly myopic view of Russia's alleged involvement in the 2016 election among other nefarious acts of Rusky skulduggery. Jeffrey recently described us as "political activists who rigorously apply Chomsky's lens to the NYT, WashPost, and the Guardian, but regurgitate as gospel whatever they read or hear on RT or Sputnik", and like even the least of Jeff's work there is a grain of truth here. I have friends who fit that description to a tee but it's an awfully broad brush for a diverse crew. I can't speak for all of us but I figured one of us might as well attempt a rebuttal.

First off, Putin: I am not nor have I ever been a Putin puppet. As a genderqueer anarchist, I'm sure that Vlad wouldn't think twice about chucking my radical faerie ass into a gulag. Like all politicians, Putin is greedy, vain, stupid, and shallow. People in his country starve while he hobnobs with the kind of cruel oligarchs that were rightfully strung from the lamp posts during the Revolution. But the western notion that Putin is the worst thing to happen to Russia since Stalin is just fucking silly. The man may be a greedy egomaniac (and likely closet queen) but he has shown an enormous and at times downright shocking amount of restraint when confronted repeatedly by western aggression. My and others recognition of this fact doesn't make us Putin apologists anymore than the critics of the Second Gulf War were Saddam apologists.

When America's quisling state in Georgia violated international law by attacking civilian Russian nationals in South Ossetia, Putin could have easily ran over that tiny, belligerent, den of gangsters called a country like a bug. Instead he took the measured response of throwing the Georgian Army out of the contentious autonomous republic while safe-guarding another, Abkazia, from likely reprisals. We saw a very similar display of restraint in Ukraine after the NED aided a flock of skinhead hooligans in overthrowing the democratically elected government in Kiev. If Russia had aided a similar coup with the Zapatistas in Mexico (I wish), the US would have tanks in Mexico City faster than you can say Operation PBSUCCESS. Putin chose to secure the Russian population in Crimea and Novorossiya and then sat on his hands. Syria is a clear case of overkill that I won't attempt to defend but considering the proximity of their oldest Arab allie to Russia's already hostile Caucus region and that the alternative to Assad was another NATO assisted black hole clusterfuck like Libya, even Putin's cruel overreaction can be seen as an attempt, however flawed, to prevent another garbage fire from spreading in his neighborhood, rather than a Stalinist land grab.

As for conspiracies: You have yours and I have mine. The state department approved narratives on MH17, Skripal, and Syria's gas attacks all have more holes than Swiss cheese and smack of past "mainstream" fables of mobile WMD labs and VC gunboats in the Tonkin Gulf. Can I tell you for sure who downed that airline and poisoned those people in England and Syria? No. But neither can you and I can tell you who stood to benefit from these nefarious acts and it sure as fuck wasn't Putin. NATO has a long and proven history of fostering terrorism and performing false flag attacks. Just Google Operation Gladio or ask Aldo Moro's ghost, I'm pretty sure he still haunts our embassy in Rome with Pier Pasolini.

As for Russia Today, I wont pretend that they're a bastion of journalistic integrity. It's a station devoted to exposing the flaws in western society and they have an ugly tendency of providing platforms to crackpots and nut-jobs. But they also have an equally storied history of providing unprecedented platforms for some of this country and many others finest dissidents from Adam Kokesh to Christopher Hedges. Compare this to the milquetoast neoliberal dreck pushed out by Radio Liberty and you'll forgive me for not clapping like a trained seal for the over the top demonization of the prior organization. I try to look at sources like RT and Sputnik as being a bit like the Upside Down in Stranger Things. You may only be getting a demagorgons view of reality, but if you compare and contrast that view with the equally skewed vision of the western press, you may just come a little closer to fully grasping the reality that both sides obscure.

And the reality of Robert Mueller's Russiagate investigation is that we're over a year in, with every other intelligence organization and their media parrots blaming Russia for the election of one Donald J. Trump (a dick by any measure), and there remains no empirical proof beyond anonymous hearsay of anything more nefarious than a couple of B-grade Russian oligarchs attempting to play the orange bastard for a chump in hopes of getting off of America's economic shitlist. You can mock me if you want but my sources include Princeton professor Stephen Cohen and veteran CIA whistle-blower Ray McGovern, while your's are yellow schlock artists like Michael Wolff and treasonous spooks like John Brennan. Like I said before, you can believe what you want to believe, but that is precisely what you're doing when you feed into salacious tall-tails like Trump's golden shower party and mock people like me for calling bullshit. You're believing precisely what you want to believe.

I can begrudgingly respect the agnostic nature of "truth" in a post-truth era. Can you? Put up or shut up. Publish this piece and prove it. And, yeah, I know that's a cheap ploy for attention. But what do you expect? I'm a Sputnik Leftist. Das Vadanya, dearest motherfuckers. See you at HUAC 2.



Peace, Love, & Nostrovia- Nicky Reid aka Comrade Hermit



Soundtrack; Songs that influenced this post

* Back In the U.S.S.R. by the Beatles
* U-Mass by the Pixies
* Party At Ground Zero by Fishbone
* What's Up? by 4 Non Blondes
* Do You Wanna Dance? by the Ramones
* Rockstar by Hole
* Happiness is a Warm Gun by the Breeders
* You Have Killed Me by Morrissey
* Atmosphere by Joy Division

Monday, August 20, 2018

Who Cares About Dirty Brown Genocide?

The scene was apocalyptic, like something out of a George Romero movie gone horribly wrong. Tiny bodies littered the shattered concrete, stained pitch black with soot and blood. Some of them were as still and stiff as calcified ventriloquist dummies, breathing nothing but smoke. Some of them rived in agony, mangled limbs throbbing and kicking, eyes rolled back in their battered little skulls as they screamed in horror to an indifferent god. The landscape that surrounds them is a bleak, smoldering, landfill overpopulated by a seemingly random collection of twisted metal and charred body parts; Arms, legs, heads, jagged fragments of bones and bubbling molten globs of shredded viscera, and every here and there a haunting sign of the casualties battered innocence; A doll with a heat warped plastic face, the busted half of a pink plastic lunchbox, and at the center of it all, a boy no older than 7, sitting upright, covered in his playmates blood, with an oversized UN-blue backpack still strapped to his bony shoulders, staring a thousand yards into an abyss that no one that young should ever see. They were children. They were all just children. And they were obliterated by an American bomb.

This was the latest chapter in the endless horror story called the Yemen Civil War. But it's not a civil war. A civil war requires two sides on the same playing field. Whats going on in Yemen ceased to be a war at all long ago. This is a slaughter, a genocide, a holocaust. It's latest victims were children on a school bus, coming home from a picnic, miles away from anything resembling a military installation. Over 40 dead, scores injured, many if not most of them under 10. This was a deliberate act of terrorism perpetrated by our "allie" Saudi Arabia with the full aid and support of these fine United States. We supplied the weapons. We fueled the planes. We provided the precise logistics that told our proxies exactly who they were murdering. We did everything but pull the goddamn trigger. And as usual nobody in this timezone or the next could be bothered to really give a shit.

The sickest thing about this grotesque display of collective imperial cruelty is how normal it's all become. With civilian casualties creeping near the six digit range and many more yet on the way, the only thing unusual about this slaughter is that the news bothered to cover it....    For all of five fucking minutes. The day it happened. Apparently American assisted genocide just isn't juicy enough for our self-sainted martyr press to cover. More than once. For longer than five goddamn minutes. But, shit man, being a journalist is hard. You have to make tough choices. Some stories take precedent over others. After all, what's more important, a flaming school bus full of dead children or the latest salacious details about the president who makes it happen's tawdry sex life, "My heart breaks for those kids, it really does, but this is Stormy Daniels we're talking about here! Sacrifices have to be made for the greater good! If those kids wanted more airtime they should have grown double-D's." Bernstein would be so proud.

Trump was right about one thing, these fucking gutless bastards are the enemy of the people, just not the ones he gives a fuck about. America's corporate mass media is the enemy of poor brown people who don't serve as convenient props to support their advertiser's neoliberal world order, even if those dirty brown folks were slaughtered by their best frenemies in the White House. The irrelevance of the suffering of the Yemeni people is the one thing that can bring all these heartless, ego-starved, star fuckers together like a satanic Christmas miracle. And it just gets worse and worse every single day.

As the Saudis zero in on the port city of Hodeidah, the last port held by the rag-tag Houthi rebels, literally millions of lives hang in the balance. Soon the American-backed Saudi blockade that has pushed the poorest nation in the Arab world to the brink of mass starvation will be complete. The noose around countless tiny throats will be tightened and who will even bother to realize they're gone? How many bodies will it take for more than five goddamn minutes from those morally vacant jackals of the foul estate. I've got the terrible creeping feeling that we'll soon find out the hard way. It won't be the first time. They still haven't noticed the 300,000 East Timorese that vanished after Gerald Ford signed off on the liquidation of that tiny impoverished nation in 1975. Trump has already announced his intention to just ignore the provisions of his deficit shriveling National Defense Authorization Act for 2019 that request that he simply assess the gravity of the slaughter he makes possible everyday. His enemies in the "free" press responded with a shrug. They can all fucking go to hell.

I've got nothing cute to add this week, dearest motherfuckers. Call me sentimental but dead children make me sad. I pray I'm not the only one. I pray America opens it's ears to the screams their tax dollars produce. And I pray for what's left of the Houthis and I don't care who fucking hears me do it. May their aim be true or at least better than the ghosts of East Timor. And may their bullets pierce the black hearts of the beasts who target their children. I throw them an unapologetic fist of solidarity just as I would Fretilin, the Sandinista, or the Vietcong. This bitter faggot stands with you against my own country and the "free" press that covers their tracks. Lock and load.



Peace, Love, Fear, & Loathing- CH



Soundtrack; Songs that influenced this post

* A Pillar Of Salt by the Thermals
* Idylls Of the King by the Mountain Goats
* Fight For Your Life by the Casualties
* Decorated Lawns by Julien Baker
* No Fun by the Stooges
* War by Sinead O'Connor
* What About Us by Ministry
* War Pigs by Black Sabbath

Monday, August 13, 2018

First They Came For the Douche-Bags

Censorship has never been more hip. All the kids are doing it, all the cool ones anyway. Someone tweets something spicy and they go running to Big Brother to set things straight. And why not? The adults are doing it too, or at least the people who call themselves adults in the legacy media do. After centuries of covering civil wars, Red Scares, and Nixonian scandals, our gilded Fourth Estate has rendered themselves to the status of a bunch of snot-nosed, apple snitching kids crying foul whenever some pedestrian steps on their feelings or questions their inalienable right to zeitgeist supremacy. I speak of coarse of the latest Stalinist purges being undertaken on social media juggernauts like Facebook and Twitter in the name of protecting our precious bodily fluids from a dastardly Slavic midterm conspiracy that everyone is apparently too terrified to prove exists.

So far the victims of this purge have mostly been douche-bags like that rambling boil with teeth, Alex Jones. But that's how it starts and we've already gotten a taste of how it ends. After verbally spanking one too many corporate news jackass (some chickenshit stringer from the New York Times), State Department whistle-blower and fifth degree black belt smart-ass, Peter Van Buren was given the Twitter death penalty and permanently removed from the sites recorded history, just as easy as clipping Yezhov from a photograph. In a rampant spree of crypto-fascist overkill a couple of other fine upstanding civil libertarians, Scott Horton who still refuses to publish me at antiwar.com (not that I'm pissed about it!) and Daniel McAdams of the Ron Paul Institute, where slapped in the purgatory penalty box just for coming to the poor bastards defense.

This all suites the virtue signalling martyrs of the "free" press just fine. Guys like Peter have devoted their lives to debunking their bullshit. At the time of his expulsion Peter was crashing the pity party being thrown by those self-fellating imbeciles in the wake of our techno-Tourette's stricken president's latest tweet lashing the mainstream media as the "enemy of the people" (Stalin's wraith seems to be quite active these days). Peter was not-so-politely reminding these perpetual victims that our dear leader made one accurate point- that you motherfuckers start wars with your propaganda. The righteous indignation of these very war-whores, caught with their hand in the hypocrisy jar, was almost laughably absurd. As was their total stone-blindness to the fact that this kind of obnoxiously clueless behavior is precisely what allows morons like Donald Trump and Alex Jones to prosper from its blowback. I'd probably still be fucking laughing if a hadn't read 1984 in 8th grade.

This kind of shit is fucking dangerous to democracy. I really feel like I shouldn't have to say that but apparently I do. The coy excuse that behemoths like Twitter and Facebook are private companies falls flat when you consider what this really means. The fact that those companies are private corporations (though they're not above corporate welfare) who answer to the bottom line above all else only proves that this kind of knee-jerk fascism sells. In fact, by all appearances, it seems to be a hit with the same #Resistance that pretends to be the last line of defense in the fight for liberal democracy (whatever the hell that means anymore). If these yuppie lumpenproletariats truly gave two fucks about democracy they would be protesting the silencing of dissident voices on both the left and the right by their favorite vehicle for "free speech".

I also shouldn't have to tell people that the First Amendment doesn't protect the speech you like, it protects the speech you hate. It's so damn cliche that I feel like I'm guest starring on a very special episode of Different Strokes, but it's true. Alex Jones may be a colossal flapping anus but is he really that much more hysterical than Rachel Maddow or Sean Hannity? At least his nonsense is mildly amusing and quite possibly avante garde performance art ala Andrew Dice Clay. Reptilian sodomites make for much more interesting boogeymen than yet another Red Scare. One of my childhood heroes Marilyn Manson once mused that you can't sedate the things you hate, but in today's day and age a transgressive artist like Manson or Abbie Hoffman ("The only dope worth shooting is Nixon") or Lenny Bruce (no stranger to the N-word) wouldn't last three seconds without being corralled into Google reservations. When did our once rebellious youth become so goddamn domesticated. Democracy is supposed to be messy, hell, it's supposed to be downright upsetting, anything but "safe". Just ask a marginalized person like myself about it. If I can handle having alt-right jar-heads threaten to rape me for being non-binary than I think you cissy Whole Foods honkies can handle cohabitating with a few libertarians with inconvenient truths to tell. If you're having trouble growing a pair you can have mine. God knows I don't need em.

Jello Biafra, another childhood hero of mine, once said, "Don't hate the media, become the media." The internet has made this anarchist dream a fantastic reality. The World Wide Web didn't invent fake news, it gave we the people the opportunity to correct it. Now the original fake newsters in the Fourth Estate are biting back against the medium that has rendered their propaganda obsolete. They paternalistically pretend that their overt flirtations with fascism protect people like me. But people like me were invisible until social media gave us the opportunity to be seen. If they think I'm going to be silent while they clip my wings and use me as a bullet proof vest for their tyranny then they clearly don't know who they're fucking with.

So this ones for the douche-bags, dearest motherfuckers. If we let them be silenced then god knows who's next. Big Brother can pucker up and kiss my tranny ass.



Peace, Love, & Liberty- CH



This post is dedicated in loving memory to my friend, Lisa Calderwood, another bitch who never learned her place, and Richard Russell, a fellow broken creature who went out in a blaze of glory. This blog will always champion the outcasts that the fake news vilifies and ignores. Godspeed and dos vedanya, comrades. You are not forgotten.



Soundtrack; songs that influenced this post

* Cake and Sodomy by Marilyn Manson
* Holiday In Cambodia by Dead Kennedys
* Panic by the Smiths
* Raise Your Voice Joyce by Fucked Up
* Rape Me by Nirvana
* I Feel Free by Dilly Dally
* Why We Fight by the Decemberists
* Rat Fink by the Misfits
* My Monkey by Marilyn Manson
* See No Evil by Television

Monday, August 6, 2018

Call Me Nicky

Most of you know me as Comrade Hermit, muckraking shut-in extraordinaire, but my slave name, my name in the straight world, the one on my birth certificate, is Nicholas Adam Reid. Growing up, most people called me Nick and for the most part that was never really a problem. Being a fluid dyke like me is tricky because there are no Barbie dolls or frilly dresses to tip you off that I'm trans. For a long time even I didn't know. There were no people on TV that looked the way I felt so I just figured that I was a freak and that became my identity- Nick the Freak.

And in many respects I am a freak and I take great pride in that. I'm a Rothbardian-Freudo-Groucho-Marxist-Syndicalist with a library that includes everything from Che Guevara to Ernst Junger. I'm a sado-masochist power bottom with a fetish for quite literally everything. I'm a politically incorrect sex-positive transfeminist who loves nothing better than shouting theater in a crowded fire. I've never owned a cellphone. I'll never own a credit card. I hate social media with a passion leftists usually reserve for Kulaks. And I've never eaten a green vegetable. I also have an odd affection for gangsters, outlaws, serial killers, revolutionaries of every stripe, and histories misunderstood super-villains in general. I'm a freak alright. I live for the fringe. Society is just a classy word for totalitarianism and I wan't nothing to do with it. But my gender identity has nothing to do with my freakdom. I didn't choose to be a mostly female butch lesbian in a mountain man's body. Believe me, I've tried not to be. I've tried to be male. I've tried to be female. Both fit me like a leash. I am who I am and Nick just doesn't feel like an accurate label for that anymore.

Being Comrade Hermit has afforded me the freedom to express myself in ways that would have quite frankly terrified Nick. But it's also empowered me to evolve beyond Nick. It's been a slow gradual evolution that will probably last my entire life and part of the next. I've trimmed my trademark beard to a fine stubble, grown my hair out and dyed it aqua blue (the warmest color.) I'm still a slob who's naked without my sweats but I've taken to wearing oversize black t-shirts the length of Lisa Loeb cocktail dresses and I've introduced fluorescent blips of color to my goth-black canvas with nail polish and gaudy costume jewelry. Nick is still there but Nick is my past, my future is Nicky.

I first fell in love with the name Nicolette in grade school. I couldn't have been older than 8 when my Catholic school took in a 13 year old throw-away named Nicolette. She was unlike anything I had ever seen before. She swore, she smoked, she died her hair weird colors, and wore piercings in provocative places. She didn't take shit from anyone. They tried to tame her. They failed miserably and shipped her off to charm school. I never found out what became of her. I never even learned her last name. But she was my hero. A vibrant splash of neon chaos in a pleaded plaid universe.

But I'm not femme enough for Nicolette. The compromise of Nicky was inspired in part by two of my favorite characters played by two of my favorite actresses; Big Love's Nicki Grant played by Chloe Sevigny and Orange is the New Black's Nicky Nichols played by Natasha Lyonne. Both characters seem radically different on the surface, the first being a steely-eyed polygamist bitch and the second being a wisecracking jailhouse pussy-hound. But both struck me as decidedly unconventional feminist anti-heroes in decidedly un-feminist environments. The dichotomy felt like a perfect fit. So I've slowly began to inject myself into the universe as Nicky. At first I toyed with the idea of going by Nick &/Or Nicky and forcing people to say the whole goddamn thing like A Tribe Called Quest. I figured I might as well make my gender identity as confounding to everyone else as it is to me.

But the joke got old to me before it got annoying to anyone else. So I found myself going back to Nicky and the more I used it, the more I liked it. Nothing was more exciting to me than seeing the name Nicky Reid published on Counterpunch. So I've made a decision, Nicholas is dead, call me Nicky, shit, she's the cunt that killed him. I'm not a name Nazi, family and friends will probably continue to call me Nick and I can live with that. I'm also going to continue to run this blog as Comrade Hermit, my genderfuck nom de guerre. But when I take that lingerie costume off and go back to my regular old dikey self, I'm Nicky Reid, the Hunter Thompson to my Raul Duke.

That's my name, dearest motherfuckers, wear it the fuck out. This world needs a genderqueer Dr. Gonzo and I'm just the bitch for the job.



Peace, Love, & Empathy- Nicky/CH



Soundtrack; Songs that influenced this post.

* That's Not My Name by the Ting Tings
* Rebel Girl by Bikini Kill
* Call Me by Blondie
* Credit in the Straight World by Hole
* Can I Kick It? by A Tribe Called Quest
* Heads Will Roll by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs
* 4th of July by X
* List of Demands by Saul Williams
* Heat Wave by Snail Mail
* Saints by the Breeders