Jussie's World

The BFD with AOC

Talking about Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez
My YouTube channel.

Seconds with James LaFond

Incuriouser and Incuriouser

Several community leaders of the Ferguson BLM riots are dead, and so is journalism, as this report evidences:

Two young men were found dead inside torched cars. Three others died of apparent suicides. Another collapsed on a bus, his death ruled an overdose. 

Six deaths, all involving men with connections to protests in Ferguson, Missouri, drew attention on social media and speculation in the activist community that something sinister was at play. 

Police say there is no evidence the deaths have anything to do with the protests stemming from a white police officer's fatal shooting of 18-year-old Michael Brown and that only two were homicides. But activists and observers remain puzzled, especially since people involved in the protests continue to face harassment and threats.

Jim Salter of ABC News offers no evidence of said harassment--presumably because he's taking the word of "activist and observers". This last sentence suggests but doesn't say they're the source--the second clause stands as an independent observation. Deliberate or sloppy, I don't know.

Jim is admirably narrative-compliant, but not too curious. The deaths may very well be related to the protests, but in a very non-narrative-compliant way. Jim is looking for the racist bogey in between the elephant and 800-pound gorilla in the room.

Three factors loom large. First, by far, the inundation of Ferguson with money from national organizations, including of course Soros' 33 million, much of it landing in the hands of young black men with little preparation and often questionable character, only recently recruited to the cause.

Secondly there is the Ferguson Effect, with cops sensibly withdrawing on the streets and crime increasing (probably still in effect).

Thirdly the loot from the riots, which afterward had to be fenced, traded, stolen a second time and consumed, including a load of pharmaceuticals looted from the CVS the revolutionaries seized first. Radio stations are so passe.

Beefs over the Soros spoils may explain the murders--I have a hard time imagining you dump a pallet of money in front of the ghetto-yokels of Ferguson and it gets distributed sensibly.

The suicides strike me as less suspicious--what I can imagine is the despondence of one of these poor souls after the money and attention runs out.

But we'll never know. Unless of course it turns out some rogue cops or secret white nationalist underground are on the job. I almost welcome the break from the monotony of the Narrative.

Broadcast Note

Wednesday, March 20, at about noon Pacific Time, I'm doing another livestream breakfast interview with James LaFond, on my YouTube channel.

James' latest is Cracker-Boy: A History of Plantation America: 1607-1865, available in paperback from Amazon. Here's the blurb:

In this in-depth survey of Plantation America, the author brings to light the conditions of life for the millions of forgotten and dismissed Americans, many of them malnourished child slaves, who were literally planted as human cattle in a pristine land in a desperate bid to transform it into a taxable mercantile garden. Such facts as the holding of Chinese and Southeast Asian slaves in Maryland in the early 1700s and the frequency with which runaways stole from their masters or were shackled are illuminated in this chronicle of the Actual Plantation America, which should put forever to rest the venerated lie of Colonial America.

James has done extensive work on the subject of white bondage in colonial and antebellum America.

Help out this awful interviewer by coming along and asking some questions.

Tent Show Revival

"Anyone seen my collar?"
Danny frowned at the silent room.
"Bastards."
John's chin nestled neatly into his wattles as he squinted at the wig he was turning about in his lap.
"I haven't." He managed, somehow, through the tiered mass of compressed flesh.
Eddie, sewing a pair of lederhosen, grunted negative through teeth holding a thread tight.

Danny glimpsed himself in the old burlesque mirror. The white greasepaint left behind in the crevices around his eyes gave him a ghostly aspect. The paunch in his jumper--he only now realized he'd fallen asleep still partly in costume--was alarming. On the dresser in this image's foreground there cluttered make-up and brushes, scraps of wardrobe, notes, a half-eaten Soybar, a massive black dildo, a pair of masks, old show programs, unidentifiable things, yellow prescription bottles, something half consumed by fire; all piled there like temple offerings to his living portrait. He sighed.

"I'm taking a walk." He pulled a moth-eaten raccoon coat out from under a pile.

His cigarette was lit before the door closed behind him.

"Danny Boy!" A cowboy in chaps practicing with a lasso hailed him from across the muddy lane separating the rows of trailers.

"Morning, Tex." He waved. "Taking a walk."

The cowboy smiled and nodded. Danny started out as if he had a destination. He passed a surfer in a bathrobe loading beach scene props onto a cart. Most of the performers hadn't stirred from their trailers. A stray cat skittered past ahead of him. A light fog lingered beneath an overcast sky. He liked when the camp was still asleep, when he could imagine they were anybody, anywhere.

The big tent occupied a slight hollow where the fog lingered, lapping at its edges. The pennants on its peaks hung damply limp. Its slanting support ropes vanished into the mist on the ground where he could see one or two figures moving about. It looked smaller than when he first saw it years ago.

"There's a system." The man who would become Danny's predecessor had said. "We open with a short stand-up routine. Standard white-joke genre, lots of self-deprecation--do you know what that means?"

Danny nodded, lying.

"A little sexual inferiority here, a little intellectual inferiority there. It sets the tone." He spoke without enthusiasm. Danny's stomach growled. He had been promised a meal.

"Then there's a skit. We have five basic skits; one is the historical skit, involving a figure from US history. He's a bumbling conniver, saved from some ill-fated and corrupt scheme by his dependent slaves or servants. It usually features his cuckolding by one or more of them. Sometimes he is hauled off by the Indians."

Danny was barely paying attention now. He wanted to sit; his sore feet felt as if they were melting into flattening blobs like putty on a hot sidewalk.

"We finish with a song and dance. Don't worry, you don't have to know how to dance. If you're called on to dance it's to dance badly, because that's the idea. You don't know how to dance, right?"

"Right." Said Danny.

"Good." He looked Danny up and down. "You'll have to learn some basic pratfalls, nothing serious. Have you done any stunts?"

"No." Danny said apologetically.

"Yeah, well, that's okay. Normally I wouldn't take on someone without experience but," he nodded at Danny's red hair "a genuine ginger is a real rarity nowadays. Do you know your guys are like two percent of the under-30 population? A dying breed." He nodded; his tone was complimentary. "So what do you say?"

Danny's stomach contracted painfully. Over the man's shoulder he could just make out the lines of smoke rising from the homeless camp in a stand of sickly cedars nearby. He remembered a pact he'd made some hungry miles before, on a hungover first day of 2040; with a twinge he determined to forget it.

"Yes."

The Christchurch Shooter's Manifesto

Reading the Christchurch shooter's manifesto (at 14:30). I missed all the 4chan references in this first reading. His actions lend credence to his claim he intends to speed up a civil war, and he isn't trolling anyone about demographic displacement because he isn't lying about demographic displacement; most of the rest of the manifesto is trolling. From the obvious, Candace Owens is too extreme! to, I think, a troll to the right, by paraphrasing the white nationalist "14 words" without citation. I wonder if here he's not trying to encourage conspiracy theorists.

By bringing the message board memes and shitposting directly into a manifesto attached to fifty dead innocents the killer's best shot at accelerating things is in the area of censorship.

 Here's the Serbian war video he's said to have played before the massacre:



The YouTube channel posting this updated its description:

Our thoughts are with the victims of the terrorist attack in New Zealand.

This song is not about nor does it condone killing innocent civilians. Made during the chaotic civil war of the former Yugoslavia it was meant as morale boosting song for the Serbian defence, with references to Croatian Ustaša, who not more than half a century prior to this committed horrific crimes against the Serbian people, together with their Muslim allies.

Hundreds of similar war-time songs were made by all sides and this one is nothing special. This channel has an equal amount of videos made by muslims as made by Serbs, with the primary goal being the historic value.

Here's another good one: