The Filth and the Fury [2000)

Here we go again.

Twenty years later.

Four years later.

The polls.

The first film.

Are they skewed?

This is a really fine film.

It starts off approaching the genius of Histoire(s) du cinéma and F for Fake, but miraculously (?) loses its way around the midpoint (or a little before that).

So it is not an all-time cinematic masterpiece.

So what?

It is still important.

And germane to today because one Pistol has had the bollocks to stand up for Donald Trump (the underdog [just look at those fucking polls]):

namely, Johnny Rotten.

What will today hold?

Johnny Rotten has said that he would vote for Trump.

So, I suppose, we can assume he did.

It wasn’t a joke.

I voted for Trump.

Again.

And proud of it.

Most celebrities have spent the past four years agreeing with one another that Trump is literally Adolph Hitler.

Good for them.

Whatever.

And from the throng of brainless celebrities emerged Johnny Rotten.

He made me feel more comfortable out here in the cold.

Am I a typical Trump voter?

I don’t know.

I have a degree in music theory.

I wrote a string quartet.

I toured England, Scotland, and Spain as the bassist in a hard rock band.

I am from Texas.

I played on Steve Jones’ radio show in Los Angeles.

I toured the world (U.S., Canada, France, Germany, Sweden, and Denmark) as the drummer in a French-language Cajun punk rock band.

[at least they were punk when I was in the band]

I have an MBA.

I could quite easily vote for Trump just based on my knowledge of economics.

Free-market capitalism works.

No, it’s not perfect.

Communism/socialism does not (in the long term) work.

It is an economic death wish.

It produces so little value * relative to capitalism.

But, you know, fuck it.

I also like Trump!

And so does Johnny Rotten.

Me, Pauly Deathwish…

I like Trump.

Trump has gotten me to see the light.

Trump has taught me to respect our great U.S. military.

Trump has taught me to respect our wonderful American law enforcement officers.

And Trump does not take any shit FROM ANYONE.

Particularly the press.

I always knew the press was full of shit since 9/11/01.

And I found out that the Democratic Party was just as full of shit after I voted for Obama in 2008.

I thought Obama would hold the neocons responsible for the 9/11 false-flag/stand down.

I was wrong.

Obama was/is a fake.

In every sense of the word.

Trump has fought tooth and nail for four years AGAINST THE ESTABLISHMENT.

And he is still going.

This motherfucker is TOUGH!

And the more I learn about Joe Biden, I realize he’s just another corrupt career politician scumbag.

So what’ll it be, America?

You have the opportunity to throw off the mind control which has blanketed you since birth.

Throw off 99% of news coverage.

All of it says that Trump sucks.

Every day.

In every way.

That’s all they say.

Is it because he’s mean to them and their feelings are hurt?

Not exactly.

It’s more sinister than that.

It’s more un-American than that.

You have been brainwashed by Jeff Zucker and others of his ilk.

But go ahead, swallow the blue pill.

Zucker’s CNN told you in 2016 that Hillary would win.

They (and every other American news outlet) proffered that Trump had almost no chance of winning in 2016.

Why does that sound familiar?

Oh, that’s right.

BECAUSE IT’S THE VERY SAME FUCKING THING THEY ARE SAYING THIS TIME.

But this time they are saying that Trump has LESS THAN a slim chance of winning.

The hyperbole is staggering.

So, you know what?

Might as well not even vote, right?

How many CNN viewers will get lazy?

How many MSNBC viewers will get lazy?

They say (“the polls”) that Joe has had a massive lead for months.

And his lead hasn’t changed at all.

Do you believe that?

Do Democrats believe that?

Then why even vote?

Is there a possible boomerang effect from such an audacious PSYOP???

Trump voters know that the polls can be wrong.

Biden voters SHOULD know that.

Trump voters will vote either way.

Sure, there might be some “casual Trump voters” (though the type seems pretty improbable) who get discouraged by Joe’s seeming victory before the match has even been played.

Brexit voters would remember.

“Leave” had no chance, right?

“Remain” would take the day.

All the polls said so.

But what happened?

That’s right:

“leave” won.

And Johnny Rotten stood with those people.

When the people had decided, he stood with the people.

Brexit was fine with him.

And Trump is fine with him too.

I support Britain’s exit from the EU.

The EU is a nightmare of well-meaning mismanagement.

Can “control freaks” be poor managers?

Apparently so.

Just look at the EU.

I’m not gonna make a prediction here.

I don’t know who’s going to win today (or next week [or two months from now]).

But I am dedicated to the idea of America.

I’m not gonna freak out like a child and go out looting and committing arson.

I’m not going to make life miserable for “Biden supporters” (if they even truly exist).

Biden is a joke.

And not a very funny one.

There is no true enthusiasm for him…not anymore…not within his own party.

He’s a “safe pick” (like Mitt Romney was for the Republicans).

I didn’t vote in 2012.

Obama had disappointed me.

No neocons were brought to justice re: 9/11 false-flag terror attacks.

And I had no desire to vote for Mitt Romney.

So I just dropped out of politics.

I didn’t care.

Until Trump came along.

At first, I too thought he was a racist, etc.

Then I came to the realization that those thoughts had been planted in my head by way of misleading “journalism” (propaganda) which assailed me at every turn.

I broke out of the matrix.

I came to see that it was all bullshit.

Calling Trump a racist was the kryptonite that the Dems thought would keep Donald out of the White House.

It didn’t work.

And the world has never been the same since.

-PD

Super Bowl LI [2017)

In what can only be described as an act of God.

force majeure

Almost one-to-one correspondence with U.S. election.

Two of the only celebrities to endorse Trump.

Tom Brady and Bill Belichick.

It wasn’t a popular position.

Unenviable, really.

Like being 25 down.

When the biggest turnaround in 50 years had been 14.

Right?

Well, one thing’s for sure:  the first overtime.

In 51 years, the big game had never needed extra minutes.

Quite simply the best football game I’ve ever seen.

I almost didn’t watch it.

Sure, I liked the underdog Falcons.

But when a team is getting stomped, the tables turn.

Overdog becomes underdog.

Patriots got no shot, right?

It’s over.

Hillary’s our next President.

Might as well not even go to the polls.

But they started chipping.

You’re gonna have to score twice.

And convert two two-point conversions.

[a sentence which only makes sense in America]

It was a sweet victory.

Even with one of the worst companies on Earth (PepsiCo) sponsoring the halftime show.

[headed by the world’s worst CEO:  Indra Nooyi]

And even with Lady Gaga spirit cooking her “heil Hillary” butt off under the aegis of Pepsi.

And even with all the liberal, rubbish commercials.

And especially with the NFL commercial which took a shot at Tom Brady for being a sore loser.

Nice try, NFL.

But you just got owned by a winner.

Fucking hell…

Tom Brady.

So Mr. Brady and Mr. Belichick, thank you for sticking your necks out when you had nothing to gain.

You were pro-Trump.

When the world had their heads up their asses.

And tonight proved what heart and hard work do.

No panic.

Just steady determination.

You don’t win them all.

But you are never in a position to win if you don’t keep on fighting till the very end.

-PD

Stromboli, terra di Dio [1950)

Trying to get over that mountain.

A volcano.

Stumble, fall.

Not meant to be.

In this place.

A sadness of place.

But I’m just a simple fisherman now.

Pulling in tunas.

Folkways.

She’s had it.

Ingrid in her plain pattern dress.

The wind never stops messing with her hair.

And it’s painful just to look around.

Out to sea.

Mario Vitale.  Takes a simple job.

But the town surveils.

So that the empty winds blow like in LAvventura.

On an island.

Ingrid from Sweden playing Karin from Lithuania.

Argentina does not accept her.

And so she marries.

The best option of no options.

But she has her spirit broken.

By tradition.

By dumb muscle.

She’s a little flower crushed by the rock.

But it’s true.

She’s a mean melancholic.  A flailing tuna with one last whip of the tail.

Hoping to return to the ocean.

And she is pricked on all sides.

Hoisted.

And piled with the other creatures lengthwise.

My heart breaks for Ingrid.

Because of Roberto Rossellini.

A new style of filmmaking here.

Similar to his other film of 1950:  Francesco, giullare di Dio.

The flowers of introspection.

Existentialism.

Italy.

And now in Ginostra you might find Jacopo Fedi catching octopi or Marco Nicolosi relaxing.

In real life (away from celebrities), it is hard to make friends.

What Žižek might call “the desert of the real”.

Some turnovers you can eat, others you just have to live with.

 

-PD