As for pelt-head, I’m guessing he gets his orders in a manilla envelope from Jeffrey Epstein, in cartoon cut-n-paste text collaged over a blown-up negative of himself doing unkosher shit to a dog collared eleven-year old.
I dunno. I could be wrong.
Personally, I prefer earnest stupidity to refined guile. So the older I get, the less it bothers me to find myself agreeing with Stormfront.org. And the alternative right—shallowly erudite, media savvy—seems, well, a little… off.
And not only the alternative right.
How was the Muslim Brotherhood crushed? It was brought to power.
Why are the people who killed Kennedy tolerating a decade’s worth of John Birch in national syndication?
Every several months brings a new and oddly polished YouTube huckster positively brimming with esoteric supposed revelations. There’s so goddamned much truth afoot you’d think deceit was a revolutionary act. I mean, 9/11 gabs don’t have firmer ground to stand on than WTC 7?
An arid, inverse 1968 is being ring-led by a gay Jew fratboy programmer (who maybe did an internship) and an ex-academic outer-DC trust-funder. That Milo can’t be trusted is clear, but Spencer’s game is anybody’s guess.
And Donald surrogates are legion.
Ain’t that some shit?
When the Syndicate wanted to keep the Constitution suspended, they had [what does a white racist call] a black professor lead a Tracy Chapman hum-in. Now, seven years into the Trayvon administration they’ve got a method actor—one of TS Eliot’s lost golf balls—on the stump intimating 39% and saying 10% of what 51% of voters want to hear like it’s a Gods Must Be Crazy coincidence.
Ironically, responsive government’s what you get when everything you say is backlogged.