All posts by Troy

About Troy

Aspiring author abrasive satire.

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The Empire Has No Clothes

Sayeth Trump regarding the JFK assassination documents that were to be released a year ago:

“I agree with the Archivist’s recommendation that the continued withholdings are necessary to protect against identifiable harm to national security, law enforcement, or foreign affairs that is of such gravity that it outweighs the public interest in immediate disclosure.”

An Excerpt from “COG”

Set inside the Superbunker on the eve of nuclear war… Here’s a draft snippet from chapter 13:

The workers trapped inside the bunker turned away from the just-sealed blast doors and staggered aimlessly back towards their work stations. They passed through gauntlets of gawking elites, some smugly sipping their iced coffees, others casting looks of contrived concern, but most just appearing perplexed by the dazed looks on the sulking workers in gray shirts.

“Why do they look so glum, grandfather?” asked the little toe-head Prince Edward William Charles Henry, while clasping the aged hand of his great grandfather, James Edward William George, the Duke of Watford Gap, who was also the grandfather of the second-in-succession to the future King of England, Prince Henry William Edward Philip, who was already balding at thirteen years old and who himself would be crowned king in the unfortunate circumstance that his cousin, prince William George James Edward were to meet some unfortunate circumstance…

The Duke of Watford Gap patted the little prince of the top of his blond head, between the boy’s two enormous ears, while examining the throngs of trapped and stunned day workers shuffling past. “Everybody is saying we must have more people brought down into the bunker,” the Duke pondered, “But the people that are here are looking ghastly that they’re here.”

In Sector 16, the French sector, the glum procession was observed by French President Magimel and his sultry, ivory-skinned mistress from the balcony of his suite.

“Francoise?” she asked.

“Ui?”

“What is wrong with them?” she asked in French, her upturned nipples visible through her sheer robe.

“Who, my dear?”

“The workers. The Greys.”

President Magimel, who stood draped behind the burgundy silk of his curtains wearing only his silver rolex, took a long drag on his electric cigarette and exhaled the steam. “Madame,” he answered as his eyes rolled up into his bushy gray eyebrows in introspection, “it is because hope is the source of all sadness and worry.”

“I feel sad for them.”

“Don’t.”

“Why?”

“Because they are the fortunate ones.”

“But they are separated from their families.”

“My dear, this bunker— this soute— will soon be all that is left of the world.”

“I still feel sad for them.”

“Don’t. Their lives have been spared. What else can be done for them?”

“Still, we must do something to cheer them. I think that perhaps we should let them have a sherbert.”

In the southern quadrant, which was situated the farthest possible distance from the European and North American sectors, were the hostels of the Sub Saharan African nations. Sector 178 was the partition carved off by the United Nations for Zimbabwe which comprised a single suite, floored in marble and fine finishes, constructed for the elites of that country which consisted of an allotment of two PINs: one for the Zimbabwe president and one for his special guest. The Greys who worked that section— almost entirely Mexican immigrants and high-minded bourgeois-leftist coeds— appeared even more sullen than those who worked in the others. Sensing that there would be no empathy forthcoming from their African masters, the quadrant in which they were now trapped was culturally and linguistically and radically foreign to them. They had every reason to fear being permanently estranged from their loved ones in that purgatory for the remainder of their lives.

The president of Zimbabwe, himself a murderous gangster bankrolled into power by Chinese industrialists, poured back his champagne, snorted a vile of cocaine, and belched out a derisive, schadenfreude laugh at the lowly caste of The Greys lumbering past under his window.

“Attention!” came the vaguely sultry voice over the loudspeakers again. “Attention: all guest worker personnel. Please refer to lodging instructions on the Superbunker intranet home page. You are required to report to your designated Protocol 4 accommodations within thirty minutes of the end of your shift.”

A Toothbrush That Spies On You? Really?

Writes Wolf Richter:

“What’s next? The day when we cannot get dental insurance without Internet-connected toothbrush.

There are many people who think nothing of it. They laugh at us. For them, we’re fossils that just cannot grasp the modern world where private life takes place on the Internet and is stored forever in the cloud. Formerly innocuous devices like toothbrushes, dolls, TVsthermostats, fridges, mattresses, or toilet-paper dispensers, that are everywhere around the house, will see to it that more and more personal and even intimate data gets uploaded to the cloud as the Internet of Things invades not only our home but our body cavities.”

Read the rest…

Here We Go Again… (Facepalm)

I suspect that legions fail to grasp that this song is a satirical thrashing of U.S. neoconservative foreign policy.

America, Fuck Yeah!
Comin’ again to save the motherfuckin’ day, Yeah

America, Fuck Yeah!
Freedom is the only way, Yeah

Terrorists, you’re game is through
cause now you have ta answer to

America, Fuck yeah!

So lick my butt and suck on my balls

America, Fuck Yeah!
Whatcha’ gonna do when we come for you now

It’s the dream that we all share
It’s the hope for tomorrow
(Fuck Yeah!)

McDonald’s (Fuck Yeah!)
Wal-Mart (Fuck Yeah!)
The Gap (Fuck Yeah!)
Baseball (Fuck Yeah!)
The NFL (Fuck Yeah!)
Rock N’ Roll (Fuck Yeah!)

The Internet (Fuck Yeah!)
Slavery (Fuck Yeah!)

Fuck Yeah!Starbucks (Fuck Yeah!)
Disneyworld (Fuck Yeah!)
Porno (Fuck Yeah!)
Valium (Fuck Yeah!)
Reeboks (Fuck Yeah!)
Fake Tits (Fuck Yeah!)
Sushi (Fuck Yeah!)
Taco Bell (Fuck Yeah!)
Rodeos (Fuck Yeah!)

Liberty (Fuck Yeah!)
White Slips (Fuck Yeah!)
The Alamo (Fuck Yeah!)
Band-aids (Fuck Yeah!)
Las Vegas (Fuck Yeah!)
Christmas (Fuck Yeah!)
Immigrants (Fuck Yeah!)
Popeyes (Fuck Yeah!)
Democrats (Fuck Yeah!)
Republicans (Fuck Yeah.Fuck Yeah)
Sportsmanship (…)
Books (…)

 

Even Liberal Dershowitz is Appalled by FBI Trump Raid

Dershowitz: “If this were Hillary Clinton [having her lawyer’s office raided], the ACLU would be on every TV station in America jumping up and down,” he said. “The deafening silence of the ACLU and civil libertarians about the intrusion into the lawyer-client confidentiality is really appalling.”

Taking essentially everything in a raid plainly and clearly violates the particularity clause of the Fourth Amendment.

The Fourth Amendment to that piece of paper we call the U.S. Constitution reads:

The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.

The Deep State will stop at nothing.

Of course today, left-partisans will rejoice at this development and ignore the future ramifications when one of their own attempts to stand athwart the neocon cabal lording over our empire.

Regarding the Impending Death of Newspapers

#newspapers #endofprint #fakenews

Good riddance!

Even if a reasonable degree of objectivity and partisan agnosticism were restored…

Even if they stopped being a propaganda outlet for the ever-expanding, pervasive, authoritarian, spying, unaccountable welfare/warfare state…

Even if they actually served their self-ascribed role as “4th Estate” and exposed the corruption infesting both parties controlling government…

Even if they eschewed their Faustian bargain with corporations, politicians, and sports teams in which they dumped skeptical journalism in exchange for access…

…newspapers would still be doomed.

Newspapers are the castle walls on the eve of gunpowder… the guilds of scribes on the eve of Guttenburg… the buggy-whip industry on the eve of Henry Ford… the tax-abatement shopping malls on the eve of Amazon… the cartels of cab drivers on the eve of Uber…

Their time came and now it has gone. Let them pass on before they lose their remaining threads of dignity. Whether their demise be by obsolescence or suicide– stop trying to raise the dead.