Tag Archives: debt

Full Metal Jacket [1987)

America is at war.

With communism.

With China.

And with those who collaborate with China to suppress freedom.

Some of those communist agents have risen to the highest levels of U.S. government.

It is not a stretch to say that America is now run by communist China.

Which means people like myself–people who like to have their votes actually count–are placed in a very delicate situation.

I am no longer under any illusion that my vote counts.

My vote was stolen by Eric Coomer.

My vote was stolen by Ruby Freeman.

My vote was stolen by Fulton County and Wayne County.

My vote was stolen by Philadelphia, Detroit, and Milwaukee.

My vote was stolen by Maricopa County.

My vote was stolen by Phoenix.

My vote was stolen by Las Vegas.

My vote was stolen by Arizona and Nevada.

My vote was stolen by Chinese hackers.

My vote was stolen by the CIA.

My vote was stolen by the Deep State.

I could go on and on.

My vote was stolen by Mark Zuckerberg and his pathetic wife Priscilla Chan.

My vote was stolen by Mitch McConnell and his pathetic wife Elaine Chao.

And her pathetic sister Angela Chao.

And the Bank of China.

My vote was stolen by China.

China who gave the world COVID.

On purpose.

America is in a war.

It is undeclared publicly.

I’m not sure our military is even smart enough to realize we are under attack.

Because many of our top brass appear to be corrupt.

My vote was stolen by Michael Hayden and John Brennan.

My vote was stolen by Gina Haspel and Avril Haines.

My vote was stolen by Bill Gates.

My vote was stolen by James Mattis and John Kelly.

My vote was stolen by Colin Powell and James Comey.

My vote was stolen by Andrew McCabe and Peter Strzok.

My vote was stolen and given to Joe Biden.

My vote appears to have been stolen by Mark Milley.

My vote appears to have been stolen by Chris Miller and Ezra Cohen-Watnick.

My vote was stolen by Mike Pence.

My vote was stolen by Brett Kavanaugh.

My vote was stolen by Amy Coney Barrett.

My vote was stolen by John Roberts.

My vote was stolen by Chris Krebs.

My vote was stolen by Christopher Wray.

South Carolina is where cars crash into trees.

Where drunks wreck their hoopties.

Fucked up on malt liquor.

Cheap wine.

Fuck it.

Beaufort.

You’re almost in Georgia by that point.

But you gotta go inland to find the Georgia Guidestones.

So transparently talking about global depopulation.

But still on the South Carolina border.

Heading towards Alabama hit Atlanta.

CDC.

Depopulation.

CNN.

Suppression.

Fake news.

Was it Ted Turner built the Guidestones or some other worthless fuck?

Some worthless piece of shit like Bill Gates.

Parris Island will get you to Jekyll Island.

Straight shot.

Where those filthy bankers plotted the Federal Reserve System in secret in 1910.

111 years ago.

Two world wars.

A Cold War.

Vietnam.

Afghanistan for us and the Soviets.

Iraq twice.

And now we can never get out of debt.

All goes back to 9/11.

False-flag.

I liked R. Lee Ermey.

Some might say.

Like liking Darth Vader.

But I don’t think so.

Because Stanley Kubrick is a (very talented) propagandist.

True, war is disgusting.

True, Vietnam was depressing.

But now you see what we were fighting against.

Was it misguided?

Perhaps.

But now Chinese communism has conquered our nation (with the installment of Joe Biden).

And so now the heroes of Vietnam–our American Vietnam vets–are truly heroes after all.

To stem the tide.

To buy us time.

And our politicians (and military brass) have pissed it away.

But mainly our politicians.

And our filthy intelligence (CIA) community.

America is not shit.

At its heart.

But Stanley Kubrick and all his commie fag friends want you to believe it’s so.

But we will not tolerate that.

We respect Kubrick’s talent.

But politely disagree with his artistic premise…that America is shit.

Wrong!

D’Onofrio breaks your heart.

And it is more schoolmaster bullying than anything.

Very British.

But it’s all plausible.

Yet Kubrick has to shoot it like The Shining.

Yeah, war will drive you crazy.

And real training should be the same intensity as the war you’re going to.

Otherwise, it’s worthless.

America is at war.

Now.

Already.

China doesn’t declare war anymore.

They just sneak around and poison you.

And fuck with your weather.

And buy off your politicians.

I love jelly donuts.

We’re not all cut out for the military.

But when the enemy invades the homeland (as China has done to us), all bets are off.

I am a digital soldier.

Born To Kill.

Matthew Modine good here too.

The terror.

In the eyes.

Kubrick was a genius.

An evil genius.

Yes, war is bad.

But Kubrick was a communist.

So, for him, a communist world was better than a war.

For me, a war is better than a communist world.

Because at least we got the chance of coming out the other side with some freedoms.

Freedom, motherfucker!

That thing I am using right now to write this blog.

That thing that guarantees I can insult the government.

I can make my views known.

I cannot be violent, but I can unleash a shitstorm of invective.

And my government is supposed to not be able to stop me.

Because they are constrained by our Constitution.

Political speech.

Is protected speech.

I wish no harm to anyone listed above.

Even if they have literally taken communist Chinese money (like Joe Biden).

I don’t wish them harm.

But I can’t vote them out.

Not anymore.

Which puts me in a very delicate situation.

Which necessitates that I study war.

To fight China myself.

Because my government has become (in many ways) one with China.

My loyalty is to the USA.

My loyalty is to my country.

America.

Joe Biden’s loyalty is to money.

And those who give him money.

He and his family have profited handsomely off of Chinese dealings.

And Ukrainian dealings.

China has released a plague upon us.

This is not the time to make friends with China.

But Joe Biden doesn’t understand that.

He just understands corruption.

He just wants his pockets lined.

And Joe Biden’s handlers don’t care about the plague.

For them, it’s just another opportunity to make money (off of vaccines).

And really, they worship the plague…because the plague let them dethrone Trump.

It was the only way.

To get the mail-in ballots.

But some, like Bill Gates (and Avril Haines), are quite obviously more privy to a deeper plan.

A plan to cull the herd.

Unfortunately for them, the rapper Pitbull is onto their Event 201 bullshit.

So it is not looking good for Gates and Haines re: stealthiness.

Do you remember Charles Whitman?

Lee Harvey Oswald?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman does.

Them’s the facts of life.

The Virgin Mary.

Mary Jane Rottencrotch.

A man can only be pushed so far.

How many people voted for Trump?

What do the rotten bastards say?

69 million?

That’s no small potatoes.

Based on post-election polling, I’m guessing the current number of Trump voters who believe the election was stolen sits at about 46 million people or more. Maybe closer to 50 million. And this is assuming the 69 million total is correct (which it cannot, in reality, be).

But I am not here to lay out the evidence.

I have done it before.

I am sick of doing it.

Research it yourself.

Nothing could possibly happen on Tet.

Never has before.

There couldn’t possibly be a military coup.

Never has been before.

Except in just about every country on Earth (America not withstanding).

But what we have had are:

–a Revolutionary War (which birthed the country)

and

–a Civil War (which tore the country in two).

It was a rebirth.

China (and Russia) would like nothing more than to see us go through a civil war.

China because they want to beat us.

Russia because they still hate us.

But Russia respects us.

Not our leaders, of course.

But us.

Those of us fighting against the New World Order.

China owns the New World Order.

Or vice versa.

It is symbiotic.

Russia is on the sidelines.

More or less self-sufficient.

But a little nervous.

About their neighbor China.

And about the disintegration of the U.S.

Of course Russia wants the E.U. to collapse.

But the E.U. deserves to collapse.

Because it is Chinese communism in disguise.

It is the pet project of the globalists (the Bilderberg set).

Adam Baldwin is also the most real thing here.

But D’Onofrio breaks your heart.

And mine too.

Fat boy.

We fucked up.

But we all get the punishment.

Gotta accept Jesus.

It’s not communism.

It’s grace.

It’s mercy.

It’s harmony.

Order out of chaos (some say).

Sure.

But not cynical.

You gotta offer a choice.

God is the ultimate capitalist.

Free will.

A free market of souls.

Take your pick.

Look around.

Choose the Devil.

Or choose God.

Feel evil.

And feel good.

Make your bed.

Kubrick always goes a bit squiffy just when he could nail it.

Same in The Shining.

That stupid maze scene at the end.

More funny than scary.

Ruins a masterpiece.

Blood in slow-motion.

Empty filmmaking.

Kubrick doesn’t know…why…he’s doing what he’s doing.

Which is why this film is NOT as good (nor as important) as Apocalypse Now.

But Kubrick gets very close.

There’s a lot of Strangelove in this.

The irreverence of Joker.

A little bit of Cries and Whispers.

The gook sniper.

Kubrick is going for juxtaposition.

A nuke and Vera Lynn.

A war crime and the Mickey Mouse song.

Quite aware.

Marx and Coca-Cola.

Learn your lessons now, boys!

-PD

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Amadeus [1984)

In these waning hours of Christmas, I give you…

a fucking masterpiece.

Indeed, I regret that I cannot express myself at this time without resort to expletive, but this film by Miloš Forman is truly bone-chilling.

And it is especially so for me:  a former composer.

Oh, there is always still time.

To set pencil to paper (or pen, if [like Mozart], you make no mistakes).

And so we shall take under consideration the director’s cut of Amadeus as our subject.

This later, R-rated version is from 2002 and adds 20 minutes to this magnum opus.

Yes, dear friends…we shall consider many things.

The uncanny embodiment of Tom Hulce.

The deft, dastardly thespian skills of F. Murray Abraham.

And even the indispensably aghast facial expressions of Richard Frank.

You might wonder why I have chosen this film to honor God on this day rather than a movie like Ernest Saves Christmas.

I will let you ponder that one for a moment.

But in the meanwhile, we shall press onwards with the young Salieri.

Please remember the pious of Western classical music.

J.S. Bach.

Antonio Vivaldi.

Haydn.  Handel.

Ok, perhaps not so much the latter.

Because he too, like Mozart, was a man of the world.

Of the earth.

A joyful sinner.

A composer with a dirty mouth.

Yes, there are miracles in this film.

Too many to count.

Salieri’s father choking on a fishbone.

For starters.

But let us consider the whole city of Vienna a miracle on assumption.

Wien.

A city in which one could dial the number 1507 and receive an A (435 Hz) with which to tune an instrument.

We have long appreciated this bit of trivia from scholar Norman Lloyd.

It has always endeared Vienna to our hearts.

A place where [it must] music flows through every pipe and connects the city in divine harmony.

But that time period for which we yearn…that “common practice” period is just the era in which Mozart is plopped down with his hilarious little giggle.

Jeffrey Jones is magnificent as the judicious statesman the Holy Roman Emperor Joseph II.

Which brings us back to Christmas.

A child was born.  To a woman by the Holy Spirit.

Yet the child had an earthly father:  Joseph II (not to be confused with the Old Testament Joseph).

Mozart was a child.

Childish.

A hellion.

Yet I would choose him over Shakespeare and Einstein when it comes to true genius.

I had heard it.

With my own ears.

In my days of getting my bachelor’s of music in music theory and composition.

I had heard that Symphony #39.  I played it.

I was inside the music.

And it is like none other.

I had discovered the ingenious counterpoint in Mozart’s Symphony #41.

What lightness!  What architecture!

What a vision of the beyond…

It takes memory to succeed.

And we guard our memories.

But it takes observation to create memories.

An eye.  An ear (in the case of Mozart).

Yes, Mozart’s prowess for hearing something once and then playing it back or either writing out all the parts (if a mixed ensemble) is legendary.

His fame grew with these stunts.

His novelty tours with father Leopold and sister Nannerl (not pictured).

I had at least one Harvard/Stanford-trained Dr. of music warn me about the historical inaccuracies in this film.

But this is Hollywood.

Of course there will be changes.

And yet, it is an incredibly moving picture.

To borrow a programmatic description from Richard Strauss, this film becomes (for much of it) a symphonia domestica.

Which, let me just say, happens to grace us with the presence of genius beauty:  Elizabeth Berridge.

But always in life (even into the bubble of music) creeps in business.

Economics.

Finances.

Debt.

Mozart was gifted with a once-in-humanity talent, yet he did not have the self-marketing skills to always position his talent at the best place in the market.

Meanwhile, Signor Salieri activates a little psychological warfare (captured by Forman’s camera lit by little gaslights all around…).

And so it is machinations versus manifestations of God’s glory.

The story is rich.

That a composer might write his own Requiem mass…and that the writing of that mass might just kill him.

We know how cursed the 9th symphony became after Beethoven (Bruckner, Dvořák, Mahler, Schubert…).

Musicians are subject to powerful forces which attack their necessary imaginations.

Superstitions.

Salieri’s character proves that those closest to us are not necessarily to be trusted.  His disingenuous psyop has Mozart working himself to death.

And that is a scary thing.

To push and push and push.

And yet, who will be remembered?

The expert in psychological warfare?

Or the symphonist?

Times have changed, but it is still the creator who has the benefit of creating goods.

Super-warriors aren’t even creating bads.  They are creating nothing.

But, it might be argued, that they are doing the most good in this world which no longer appreciates the music of its heritage.

Yes, European classical music is on life-support.

But we return to Mozart, who is in not-much-better condition.

Part of me longs for the treatment of Ingmar Bergman in his underappreciated film version of Trollflöjten (The Magic Flute in Swedish).

But Miloš Forman does everything else right.

The scene in which Mozart and Salieri are working on the Requiem is masterful!

And still…Mozart doesn’t realize that his greatest enemy is posing as a friend to help him compose his own death from exhaustion.

It’s only when they’re throwing the lime on you that you get real perspective.

But by that point, you’re wrapped up.

It is thus a fitting Christmas story…that hatred and jealously are futile.

And that a naive genius had the keys to the musical kingdom.

For his 35 short years on Earth.

Perhaps Mozart was not a pious man, but Salieri (who burned his own crucifix in the fireplace) consistently recognized the voice of God in Mozart’s music.

I hope you are all having a wonderful holiday season and that your hearts will be filled with melodies which could make the heavens weep.

-PD

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Všichni dobří rodáci [1968)

I did the best I could.

Tired.

We try and take the right road.

Or the left road.

But not the wrong road.

We want to be correct and offer our best service.

And we depend on our bodies.  Our eyes.  Our minds.

So I come back to Czech films tired.

Directed by Vojtěch Jasný.

This is All My Good Countrymen.

It rambles.  It woos us from slumber.

It progresses to higher levels of sublimation.

It doesn’t make sense.

But makes just enough sense.

We appreciate, but don’t fully understand.

We do, however, recognize Radoslav Brzobohatý from the wonderful Ucho.

There is just enough contrapuntal organ to shake the foundations.

You push on tired and forget about the guns.

The land mine.

It seems (to put it lightly) not a ringing endorsement for communism.

Just like any political system.

The people get fed up.

And which system has the flexibility to survive upheaval?

Tired.  Tired.

Farm collectivized.  A land owner is dispossessed.

Move out of your house, please.  We need your land.

Tired.  How did the merry widow get so?

Lehár.  Her red hair.

It took me a long time to get to omega from alpha.

You bet!

It would seem that Vladimír Menšík dropped acid.  On his foot.

Or poured.

A little bit of Amarcord magic…or Zéro de conduite (depending on the weather).

Icy peacock.  And the feather blossom tree pollen.

For a humorous confession.

You can’t break a law you don’t understand.

Even with a mere 10.

Refer to my previous answer.

And again.

Think of the Le déjeuner des canotiers of the Renoir we talk least about here:  Pierre-Auguste.

It is a shot of vodka perched on bottom lip.

A swig.  A slug.  In purgatory.

Resting because the boaters must be immortalized.

In their Italian boater hats.  And de Nîmes denim jeans.

Pamplona by delivery.

School districts in debt.  More prodigious than the municipalities in which they are located.

This would be lived out…this rebellion…”No.”–by our good director Mr. Jasný.

The good man starts over.  Like Sisyphus.  Camus’s best writing.

The people of the world.  They amaze me.  Every day a miracle.

Finding little motivations to care for their loved ones.

It is not cowardice.  It is compassion.

It is submission to love.  And the God of chaos has many wonderful things for us.

A daughter on a magical mystery tour.

We will get to the animal farm.  And the propaganda waiting.

But now we sing of Cardiff and Dublin.

When will the music come back?

We preserve it like a relic.

A holy repetition.

Spin that record again and make those sounds which speak to us of other planets.

This is a masterpiece of Eastern European cinema which is essential to a comprehensive understanding of the field.

I’m guessing multiple viewings are necessary.

 

-PD

 

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