Three Days of the Condor [1975)

I’m not a spy.

I just read books.

Like Michael Ruppert’s Crossing the Rubicon: The Decline of the American Empire at the End of the Age of Oil.

Page 49.

And the reason I got an MBA.

Page 53.

When last I wrote.

The power had gone off.

And we went days.

Freezing in a house with no heat.

Eventually our water went off.

Not enough electricity to run the pumping stations.

In a major American city.

San Antonio.

Steve Pieczenik did not work for the CIA.

Read his book.

Buy it.

It is the most important book of the 21st century so far.

Comb through his interviews.

“I have worked with and against the CIA.”

But who was to lead the coup?

The military.

I don’t know.

The CIA.

We are getting deep into machinations which are currently tweaking the world.

The gears spin.

Some free-floating doodads.

Slowed down by the friction of a finger.

Trying to find leaks for Huber.

Trying to find plot devices for the artist formerly know as Special Activities Division.

Planning.

Directorate.

Q branch attempted to bring in Snowden for the NSA.

Look it up.

Who is sent to bring in Joe Turner?

The analogous.

17.

What was Epstein’s townhouse?

The Herbert N. Straus mansion.

Wexner.

As it turns out, Bill Gates and (a) John Roberts did indeed ride on Lolita Express.

Lin Wood was right.

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-7377133/Bill-Gates-REFUSES-reveal-flew-Lolita-Express-Jeffrey-Epstein-prison-release.html

Take a look at the EXIM.

It is true that the CIA devours spy novels.

This has been admitted by the Agency.

But Sydney Pollack’s film gives this a very unique twist.

https://www.martingeddes.com/how-the-bidan-show-is-saving-america-and-the-world/

Key points:

  • The corrupt mass media that is under CCP control cannot accuse Trump of being a military dictator when the US military overtly becomes in control.
  • You can do military operations that otherwise would be politically unacceptable (think Iran, Syria).
  • avoids confusion for the public of which Presidency they are endorsing”

I have reordered these.

And trimmed a bit on the final one.

Because I do not believe the Organic Act bullshit about Trump being the 19th real President on March 4.

Read the Organic Act.

Unless I have shirked my duty as a researcher, there is nothing in this legislation which even hints at an untoward redirection of power.

Indeed, it is one of the most mundane pieces of legislation I have ever seen.

Judge for yourself:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/District_of_Columbia_Organic_Act_of_1871

Sure.

The actual Act is many pages long.

All of which are reiterations of the same inane bullshit.

Which is to say, this act did nothing (as far as I can tell) to change the organization or legal status of the United States.

The United States of America.

Another fallacy (I think).

While I am open minded on this point (that a word has been removed somewhere and, thus, we are on a different timeline [so to speak…in the legal sense] as a result), I do not think that there has been a word removed or added TO THE NAME OF OUR FUCKING COUNTRY and that it has gone unnoticed by all legal minds of good will.

Even the worst legal minds (acting in bad faith) are, by definition, legalistic.

Do you think someone wouldn’t have taken the opportunity before now to point out a glaring error which fundamentally changes the legal status of our country?

So, I am not a big fan of this theory.

But I am a fan of Martin Geddes’s writing (to which I have just recently been made aware).

While I do not necessarily concur with all the points he makes in his article (particularly, about Joe Biden being on a movie set, yada yada [sure…it’s possible]), I do agree with some very salient points he makes.

To restate his points from a different angle, there has already been a military coup.

Pieczenik was right.

It was a hard coup.

But it was also (it seems) an invisible coup.

How is that possible?

It does start to strain credibility.

But it is possible.

And I would go far beyond that.

I would say it is likely.

A key part of this coup may be the fact that JOE BIDEN DOES NOT KNOW A COUP HAS TAKEN PLACE.

Indeed, neither does Nancy Pelosi.

This is a secret coup.

So who is running the country?

The military.

Wizards and warlocks.

Robert Redford identifies “a CIA within the CIA”.

Yes.

That is the group that destroyed the Twin Towers (which play such a prominent role in this film).

Lucky break.

Better off dead.

NXNW.

Gunnery sergeant mailman.

Ugly motherfucker.

Same bloke dressed as a broad from Thunderball ?

Maybe not.

Stay calm.

Think.

Don’t leave me hanging on the telephone.

Do not hang up.

The is The Major.

Patriot.

A brutal game.

Yes, keep the heat on.

But drain the fucking swamp, for crying out loud.

Take your god damned time.

But please get the job done.

No country left.

Unless you act.

We are speaking to the counterweight.

Those who are currently running the country.

God bless you.

Let us delineate again.

We can bomb Iran.

Biden will take the heat.

We can fuck up.

Biden will be blamed.

And the most important part.

The country will come to be less confused.

It is the Pepsi challenge.

Coke wants you to be less white.

Coke is Joe Biden.

Crack is Hunter Biden.

Obi Don Kenobi is Pepsi.

The country is getting a free trial of Chinese-style communism.

When the time is right, the covert will become overt.

And it will be done in the way most beneficial to the country.

That is the ethos of those running the country.

And they are the authors of the fucking brilliant Q PSYOP.

As Tucker Carlson was having a hard time locating the QAnon website, let’s help him out:

https://qposts.online

or

https://qalerts.app

There is, of course, no one Q website.

They are all aggregator sites.

They aggregate posts made on 4chan and 8chan/8kun respectively.

Some aggregators have been doxxed.

Other sites have gone tits-up for unknown reasons.

But these two links work as of now.

Like Buffalo ’66.

Or The Tiger Makes Out.

Max von Sydow is excellent here.

An assassin.

Like Locque in For Your Eyes Only.

But more Godard.

Studious.

Professor.

Older now.

Brown frames.

Alpine.

How to evade.

Stay in the light.

How to confuse.

How to keep it up.

How to devise a long-term strategy for survival.

How to become impervious to psywar.

Know yourself.

Know your enemy.

Devise tactics.

To beat the devil.

Identify mechanism for delivery.

Thwart demoralization.

Force brute.

David Icke model.

Warm goo phase.

Working for and against.

At various times.

You must understand Pieczenik in Panama.

With Noriega.

Why did the United States send this man?

You must understand Pieczenik in Syria.

In Southeast Asia.

Trace the network.

Pieczenik has come out for decades.

He has truly defected to the people.

He has given away no tradecraft.

He is not a Snowden.

He is a rock and roller.

And he is not full of shit.

What we are seeing currently is the greatest military operation in America’s history.

Either that, or we are fucked.

Why Spanish, Dutch, and Arabic?

Oil.

Venezuela.

Royal Dutch Shell.

OPEC.

Creative communication.

Hidden in plain sight.

Steganography.

Of a sort.

Repurposed.

Spartacus.

Vendetta.

Anonymous.

Swarming.

I take a different approach.

I appreciate Thomas Jefferson.

Cutting up his Bible.

But not for me.

Because the word of God is holy.

Yet my tattered volume.

Illuminated by colored pencils.

God has tested my faith.

I am weak.

But strong in my core.

And I give my full future to Jesus Christ.

May I bring glory to God.

Even if I curse like Lenny Bruce.

May God work through me as he has worked through Trump.

Rock and rollers.

Similarities to another masterpiece.

The Conversation. (1974)

Of Francis Ford Coppola.

Condor (1975).

No such agency.

Existence of which declassified when?

Current state of affairs.

Space Force.

17th to accede to IC.

Community.

Such a fucking stupid descriptor.

Ostensibly headed by Bill Gates’s bitch Avril Haines (Event 201).

Both beholden to China.

Can’t spell China without ChInA.

The entity which gave us COVID-19.

I am going to enjoy this.

Dr. Kaufman in Tomorrow Never Dies.

Bill Barr.

The worst kind of traitor.

In the same category as Dick Cheney and Mike Pence.

And John Roberts.

Never trust The New York Times.

-PD

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

Redoubtable [2017)

Formidable.

Inspiring fear and respect.

Impressive.

Intense.

Capable.

That Swiss-Maoist asshole is my hero.

In many ways.

But which Godard?

If I were to say “late Godard” (and that would be my natural, truthful answer), Monsieur Godard would likely point out the merits of his early films…just to annoy me.

If I spoke lovingly of Vivre sa vie, he would probably proclaim that it is shit.

Jean-Luc Godard is a very complex individual.

And I can wholeheartedly identify with that.

A walking civil war.

This film never makes reference to Cahiers du cinéma.  

It doesn’t need to.

This film covers a period of time which Wikipedia classifies as Godard’s “revolutionary period”.

When did Godard stop writing for Cahiers?

He never stopped being a critic.

We know that.

And I see his point.

This is shit.

Because we want to invent new forms.

Breathless was like his “I Wanna Hold Your Hand”.

Or his Bolero.

He couldn’t escape it.

Couldn’t lose it.

Must be nice.

But maybe not.

“Play the hits!”

Did politics ruin Jean-Luc Godard?

Sure.

But it was necessary.

It was his process of growing up.

His process of attaining wisdom.

Trial and error.

Formative years.

But not the last word.

I don’t agree with Godard’s politics.

Perhaps at some point in my youth I did.

But not very much.

Because I never really understood them.

I dabbled.

But I too am a revolutionary.

In these days.

After the 2020 election.

You may call me a reactionary.

I don’t care what you call me.

I think George Washington is cool.

I think the United States of America is worth saving.

And the American Revolution has recommenced.

Same goals as the founders had.

Love it or leave it.

Godard did not show up in 2010 to receive his honorary Academy Award.

Good for him.

Fuck Hollywood!

Give me the old stuff.

Hitchcock.

Howard Hawks.

Not this new crap.

Tripe.

Perhaps you see where me and Godard overlap?

Too rashes like a Venn diagram…with a particularly-irritated common ground.

The skin is red and peeling.

Weeping.

Scratching.

Itching.

I scratch my arms.

I’m running out of real estate on my body for these nicotine patches.

Yes.

You thought it was something more interesting?

More taboo?

No.

Where does the former President of Peru come in?

Pedro Pablo Kuczynski.

Godard’s first cousin.

I too had cousins.

Who are as far off as Peru.

But always close in my heart.

Kuczynski is 82.

Godard will be 90 in one week.

I will be 44 when the Electoral College meets.

Anna Karina died on my birthday last year.

She was 79.

But this film doesn’t deal with the wonderful Ms. Karina.

No, this film deals with another stunning beauty:  Anne Wiazemsky.

Wiazemsky died three years ago.

The same year Redoubtable came out.

In the English-speaking world, we know it (ironically) as Godard Mon Amour.

Sounds more sophisticated to have the subtitled film with a more commercial FRENCH product label.

Redoubtable is too vague.

Godard Mon Amour sells itself.

[that’s what the advertising guys must have said]

Godard and Wiazemsky were married for 12 years.

Godard and Karina married for a mere 4.

I’ve never read Mauriac.

I have nothing against Catholics.

I adore Olivier Messiaen’s music.

So it bears mentioning that one of the smartest, most unique artists in the history of the world was a French Catholic [Messiaen].

Which is to say, believing in God does not make you boring.

I believe in God.

The same God.

The Christian God.

God who gave us Jesus.

God who gave us synesthesia.

Combat didn’t like La Chinoise.

De Gaulle withdrew from NATO.

Will Trump win?

De Gaulle supported sovereignty.

The European Union is the antithesis of what de Gaulle wanted.

De Gaulle criticized America’s war in Vietnam.

But that wasn’t enough for revolutionaries like Godard.

Too lukewarm.

De Gaulle wanted Québec to be free from Canada.

If you’ve ever been to Québec, you might see why.

It is unlike the rest of Canada.

Except for New Brunswick and Nova Scotia.

But not really.

Île de Chêne?

1755-1764.

Conservatism.

De Gaulle.

Biography.

Mauriac.

Wiazemsky.

Mauriac’s granddaughter.

Starring in a Maoist film directed by Jean-Luc Godard.

La Chinoise.

And then they married.

Godard was correct.

Au Hasard Balthazar is the antithesis of the Central Intelligence Agency.

But Godard never said that.

I did.

So Anne Wiazemsky wrote a book called Un An Après which was published in 2015.

She died two years later.

The same year her book was adapted for film as Redoubtable.

She died of breast cancer.

Less than a month after Redoubtable was released in France.

This film proves that Michel Hazanavicius is a very talented filmmaker.

It proves that he knows his Godard.

But it is flawed.

Aren’t all masterpieces?

Maybe not.

Is Redoubtable a masterpiece?

In some ways, yes.

In some ways, no.

It is probably most similar to Sacha Gervasi’s Hitchcock.

Both of them are films of “exorbitant privilege”.

Which is to say, a little out of touch with their subject matter.

Was Pablo Picasso ever called an asshole?

Not if we take Jonathan Richman at his word.

Art contains deeper layers of meaning.

Usually.

Unless you’re Warhol.

In which case, the meaning MAY be found closer to the surface.

Stravinsky liked this too.

Music has no meaning.

It is just tones.

Timbres.

Rhythms.

Harmonies.

Little dots on a page.

So we are told.

By Igor.

Jean-Luc Godard and Igor Stravinsky both embraced MANY different approaches to their craft over their long careers.

Because they loved their crafts.

They were addicted.

It was a compulsion.

And, for Godard, it remains so.

Godard married the girl who rejected Robert Bresson.

Do not underestimate the thrill of this.

The thrill of it all.

Bresson was a genius too.

But she was only 18 when Bresson made his advances.

Girls want to live.

Bresson was 65.

Bold.

Numbers can lie.

Godard and Wiazemsky were only together as man and wife for three years.

Though they were married for 12.

Three years was enough, apparently.

The divorce appears to have been more a formality.

Anna.

Anne.

Anne-Marie.

I spoke to Anne-Marie on the phone once.

In exceedingly-broken French.

She was saintly in her patience.

All I wished to convey, as I called Rolle (Switzerland) on my flip phone, was that Godard was my intellectual hero.  [it is true]  And that his LATE films mattered.  That they mattered THE MOST.  That he had created beauty.  That he had plumbed the depths.  I owed it to my master to deliver this message before I (or he) died (God forbid).

I was compelled.

Jean-Luc Godard is my favorite creator this side of heaven.

Even though I don’t agree with his politics.

Bob Dylan is neck-and-neck for this honor.

Dylan is, no doubt, my favorite musician to have ever lived.

Neck-and-neck with Roland Kirk (perhaps).

My favorite jazz artist.

My favorite instrumentalist.

It is never noted that Wiazemsky was in Les Gauloises bleues.

And Godard could be an asshole.

So can I.

So can Trump.

Trump is my ideological hero.

My political hero.

I DO agree with his political philosophy.

Wholeheartedly.

And yet, my favorite film director (auteur) remains Godard.

No one is even neck-and-neck with JLG for me.

Brakhage is a distant second.

Welles is formidable.

But they do not hit the mark like Jean-Luc.

Il seme dell’uomo.

Nothing suggestive there.

Global plague.

Marco Ferreri.

Marco Margine?

Shot-reverse shot.

And then I gave Jacques Demy’s grandson piano lessons.

Or Agnès Varda’s grandson.

Same difference.

More like organ lessons.

Booker T.

You should use Belmondo again.

Funny films.

We see Coutard’s hair early.

Politics entered soon.

Le Petit soldat.

Shadow war.

The perfection of Vivre sa vie.

The jaunty, carefree, playful anarchy of Breathless.

And a sadness tied to beauty.

Politics again with Les Carabiniers.

An attempt at commercialism with Contempt.

Equivalent to Nirvana’s In Utero album.

Big-budget negation.

Nihilism.

A thorough disdain for the Hollywood system.

And the “tradition of quality” in France.

But something deeper…and more bitter.

Bande à part more like Breathless.

A little like Vivre sa vie.

Dancing.

Pinball.

Billiards.

Cafe culture.

Down and out in Paris.

Life at the margin of society.

YOUTH!

Hazanavicius first really gets going with Une Femme mariée.

Stacy Martin in the nude.

Stunning.

Cinematography.

Grabbing the bedsheets.

Clutch.

Brace brace brace.

The resemblance to Charlotte Gainsbourg is striking.

A little Alphaville.

Someone who nibbles Godard’s neck.

The Samuel Fuller scene from Pierrot le fou turned into a fistfight.

Politics.

Don’t insult me!

A bit of Macha Méril in the hair.

And a bit more of Chantal Goya.

Getting shouted down by a situationist during the May ’68 occupation of the Sorbonne.  Lumped in with Coca-Cola.

Things go dark with insults.

Swiss-Maoist jerk.

On the blink.

“Ruby’s Arms”.

It hurts.

Made in U.S.A.

Two or Three Things I Know About Her.

Urbanism.

“You ruined my shot!”

Ciné-tracts.

Eating Chinese food.

A rather unfortunate outburst directed at a war hero.

And his wife.

These are the things we do.

When we’re young.

And stupid.

And fiery.

What is striking is the humor in Redoubtable.

The broken eyeglasses.

The slipping shoes.

And their replacement.

I must give credit to Louis Garrel.

He really does convey the mania and eccentricity of Godard.

While Stacy Martin is very good here, it is a shame that Hazanavicius chose to lovingly evoke every detail of Godard’s life…except Wiazemsky’s red hair.

 

-PD

The Great Reset: The Deep State vs the Great Awakening [2020)

Something is afoot.

If you’re not curious whether there was election fraud in the U.S. during this recent election, then you’re not paying very much attention.

It has been 22 days since the U.S. election.

For the American mass “news” media, everything is all wrapped up with a bow in a tidy little package.

They pull from here and there.

Yesterday it was Paul Ryan.

Since when did Democrats OR Republicans give a fuck about Paul Ryan?!?

Since pretty much never.

The U.S. “news” media trots out Mitt Romney.

Liz Cheney.

The criminal organization which is attempting to illegitimately install Joe Biden as our next President is DESPERATE to seal the deal.

Which makes it infinitely-interesting that President Trump retweeted a Lin Wood tweet.

The surface layer of content in Lin Wood’s tweet was this:

https://themarshallreport.wordpress.com/2020/11/22/sidney-powells-kraken-is-dod-cyber-warfare-program-we-are-at-war/

But the golden nugget embedded in the article was this:

How long will Alphabet Inc. leave it up?

You have the title.

The Wayback Machine has no working records of the YouTube video.

I would archive it, but I’m sick of fucking signing up for shit and being tracked.

So fuck it.

You can track it down.

And we’re gonna do a little oral transmission here.

Spoiler alert:

this film review will be strictly spoilers and nothing but.

Not my usual m.o..

I’m not selling anything.

I don’t generate income by you clicking on this story.

I have no link to any content creator above.

I write very strange film reviews.

It’s called free fucking speech.

I also write music.

All my music is free to stream and download.

And I’m not gonna post a link.

Go find it.

The purpose of this article is strictly to get information out.

I am a conservative.

The same kind of conservative Donald Trump is.

Like it, or leave it.

I belive in Jesus.

I love God.

If you don’t like my foul mouth, then you can leave now.

I curse because I’m angry.

And I curse because I will not be told what I can and cannot say.

This is my website.

I’m using my free speech.

I’m gonna walk until they make me run.

So I’m here today to tell you about what I think is going on.

I scour the internet every day (especially these past 22 days) in an effort to avail myself of actionable intelligence.

I have a thirst for knowledge.

But more than that, I have a thirst for truth.

I support QAnon.

I support Trump.

I love my country:  the United States of America.

I support our military.

I support our law enforcement officers.

And now I’m going to get around to the fucking point.

I watched this entire one hour, eight minute, and 44 second video – – – – – – so that you don’t have to.

But I still recommend you watch it.

And archive it (if at all possible).

Wayback Machine is my jam.

I’ve never been asked to “log in” until today.

Whatever…

Fuck it.

You can work a little too.

Here’s the beef.

This whole video is good.

All of the guests are good.

But there is one particular guest (the first one) who drops what I find to be some new and illuminating information.

The guest is Major Jeffrey Prather.

It should be noted that several of the six guests (including Maj. Prather) appear to be forthcoming content creators for this new outlet:  American Media Periscope.

I’ve never heard of this outlet.

I get the impression that they have only been around a couple of weeks.

AND ALREADY TWEETED OUT BY THE PRESIDENT!

Which brings me back to my point.

Something in here MUST be salient.

And my guess is that it is the first guest:  Major Prather.

If you haven’t heard of Sidney Powell by now, you have been living under a rock.

While most of America is being blasted with “Sidney Powell is even too crazy for Trump” blah blah bullshit, those who know (Trump voters) are well aware that Ms. Powell is an accomplished lawyer.

Her most recent claim to notoriety is successfully defending General Michael Flynn from the petty bitterness of sore losers.

Update:  if you’re just waking up, the Flynn case has been dismissed (within the past 24 hours).  This according to a tweet by one of Flynn’s brothers.  Go find it yourself.  I.e., Flynn’s not gonna need a pardon.

We’ve known this for awhile.

The government has no case when the government has no prosecutor.

Judge Emmet Sullivan is a really atrocious example of a judicial activist.

An activist.

Not a judge.

Sullivan dragged out the case another three months…after the Department of Justice withdrew its case.

But I digress…

It does not take a fucking genius to imagine that the exceedingly-persecuted Michael Flynn might be very grateful indeed for the legal services of Sidney Powell.

Flynn fought hard for Trump in 2016.

Flynn was unfairly targeted by Obama’s illegal Crossfire Hurricane program (run by the FBI).

Flynn’s life has been ruined (in a worldly sense).

But he has survived.

I believe the man had to sell his home to pay his legal fees.

Thirty years in the U.S. Army and that’s the treatment he got from Obama, Comey, McCabe, Strzok, Lisa Page, Loretta Lynch, Susan Rice, Bruce Ohr, Rod Rosenstein, John Brennan, James Clapper, and (last but not least) Joe Biden.

So Michael Flynn has some scores to settle.

Because of his ongoing case, he was essentially precluded by the judge from publicly speaking for the past four years.

What a illegal travesty!

So now we come to what should be obvious to any thinking individual as the massively-fraudulent election of 2020.

We have been waiting three years for any of those aforementioned people to get in trouble…FOR ANYTHING!

We would have been happy if Hillary Clinton had gotten a fucking parking ticket, but she didn’t.

We have waited through:

-Jeff Sessions

-John Huber

-John Bash?

-Bill Barr

and

-John Durham.

We have been built up by a bunch of tick-tock bullshit.

Maybe it had a purpose.

Surely it did.

But what I am about to report casts it in a slightly different light.

You can decide for yourself whether what I convey seems plausible.

I belive Q is legit.

But it is a HIGHLY, HIGHLY complex and nuanced PSYOP.

I do not believe it is a fucking LARP.

And if it’s a LARP, then so what?

It has been effective.

WILDLY-effective.

It is a part of world history.

It has gotten people DIGGING like never before.

Me and a few other people tried to expose 9/11 as an inside job/false-flag stand down/what have you.

We didn’t really prevail.

We were ignored.

Maybe we were completely wrong to doubt the official story of 9/11.

But I don’t think so.

I researched that event like my life depended on it.

BECAUSE IT CHANGED THE WORLD…FOR THE WORSE.

We didn’t need to go to war in Afghanistan.

And we didn’t need to stay there 20 years.

We didn’t need to go to Iraq.

Again.

Correct me if I’m wrong (and I’m sure you will), but I think we could have arrested Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld and a few others and called it a day.

Which brings us to the current times.

There wasn’t enough of a GREAT AWAKENING to reach critical mass.

But that was 19 years ago.

I can’t really recall Q ever having talked about 9/11.

That’s alright.

Maybe Q will tell us that 9/11 was actually the work of 19 beardy guys with boxcutters working out of a cave in Afghanistan.

And maybe that’s the whole story.

But I don’t buy it.

I believe the CIA was involved.

So does Dr. Steve Pieczenik.

Do yourself a favor and buy his eBook American Warrior in Crises.

I get nothing for plugging that.

He’s not a friend of mine.

I’ve never spoken to or exchanged correspondence with him.

I just respect his work.

Immensely!

Is he always right?

Probably not.

But for my money, he’s as close as we get to truth in this day and age.

So here’s the rub.

Flynn has some scores to settle.

The other military people who saw Flynn become a political prisoner also have some scores to settle…ON HIS BEHALF.

You cannot fail to serve your country (like Obama) and then turn around and ruin a guy’s life who did (for 30 years!).

You shouldn’t prosecute a guy for a process crime and, in so doing, make him lose his house.

I think I donated 20 bucks to Flynn.

Damn right I did!

I worked at Starbucks.

And I was proud to give my hard-earned money to a MILITARY spy chief.

And there’s the rub.

I used to want to work in intelligence.

Maybe I still do.

But I’m old.

Washed up.

And, honestly, I’m a fucking musician.

So just call me Sherlock Holmes.

And a shabby one at that (perhaps).

But I take great pride in TRYING to know what’s going on.

Because, again, I LOVE MY COUNTRY!

And who taught me to truly love my country?

Donald Trump.

And who else?

Steve Pieczenik.

And who else?

Michael Flynn.

If you don’t think that Sidney Powell is privy to some very interesting information by way of representing General Flynn, then you are incredibly naive.

Which finally brings us to this YouTube video.

Major Prather.

Major Prather (according to his LinkedIn) worked at the Defense Intelligence Agency for 17 years…and in a very high position at that!

General Flynn headed the DIA.

It might be said that the DIA is the military rival in the U.S. to the civilian CIA.

That’s right:  the CIA is a civilian intelligence organization.

A weird thing.

Created in 1947.

The CIA’s predecessor was the OSS:  a military intelligence unit.

Although the OSS were a bit kooky (thanks to their head William J. Donovan), at least they were putting themselves in harm’s way.

But again I digress.

The CIA has lost a little more than 100 officers/operatives in the past 73 years.

That’s the official number.

And it sounds about right.

The DIA has officially lost 21.

That number makes less sense.

But it makes sense in that the DIA is sort of the cream of the crop for military intelligence in the United States.

The NSA may be thought of as being even more elite (and powerful as a unit) because of the unique types of intelligence gathering they do.

The NSA supplies intel to the CIA, FBI, DIA, etc.

The NSA is a military intelligence organization.

Back to these casualty numbers.

The CIA has officially lost 133 of its employees on the job…in 73 years.

The DIA has officially lost 21 of its employees on the job…in 59 years.

But that doesn’t really tell the true story.

Sure, the CIA has its paramilitary strike teams.

They used to be called SAD/SOG (Special Activities Division/Special Operations Group).

These officers were largely recruited from the military special operations units:  Army Delta Force, Navy SEALs, MARSOC, etc.

Other than these agents, the CIA is more pencil-pusher, wear a tie, James Bond shit.

And I do mean shit.

Once upon a time, the CIA used to help overthrow communist governments.

This might seem inhumane.

Until you live under communism.

In which case, you see just how humane it really is.

But the CIA has gotten away from that mission.

So much so that they ended up with a Director who had once voted for a communist for U.S. President.

That’s right:  John Brennan voted for Gus Hall.

It should have been a disqualifying factor by some estimations.

The CIA and FBI apparently share the same requirement upon beginning official employment:  you must pass a lie detector test…and one of the questions is something to the effect of “have you ever supported a group that has sought the overthrow of the U.S. government.”

John Brennan admittedly had a tough time answering that question.

But he might as well have answered:

“Not yet.”

To my eyes, John Brennan is clearly a traitor to the U.S.

Following closely behind him is Michael Hayden (who led both the CIA and NSA respectively).

But Michael Flynn is cut from a different cloth.

He’s a spymaster.

But he cut his teeth doing the real thing.

Serving in Army intelligence (INSCOM).

Putting himself in harm’s way.

The same cannot be said of John Brennan (and most of the CIA).

[Michael Hayden is a strange case of…well, I don’t know…I just have to assume he is corrupted and coopted to such an extraordinary level that he doesn’t even really love his country any more (if he ever did in the first place)–he loves himself…first and foremost]

So I give Major Jeffrey Prather (formerly of the DIA) a great deal of respect as a foregone conclusion.

[keep in mind…the DIA has had its share of bad eggs…James Clapper chiefly among them]

If you watch no other section of the video I posted above, watch the segment with Prather.

Akamai.

Where do they fit in to this election?

Which brings up 9/11.

And the incredibly strange/significant “death” of Daniel Lewin.

Yes, I know I put death in quotes.

I’m about as sure Daniel Lewin died on 9/11 as I am sure that Adam Lanza was a master with an assault rifle.

Which is to say, not very sure.

But the Electoral College will meet on my birthday:  December 14th.

Massachusetts.

Akamai.

Serbia.

Ok, we know about Dominion Voting Systems and all the programmers they have/had in Serbia.  A bit of a strange locale.  Wonder if the company memos are in Cyrillic?

China.

I don’t now why I wrote that down.

I’m going off notes.

Frankfurt.

Ok, yes.

Obviously.

Something appears to have happened there.

I’m not sure what Prather’s point was on this.

What was seized?

From Scytl?

From the CIA?

And seized by whom?

The U.S. Army?

I should take this opportunity to point out a strange assertion of Prather’s.

I find this one a little hard to believe, but I suppose it’s possible.

Prather asserts that the U.S. Army, U.S. Navy, and Marines have all had their computer systems compromised.

Might this have something to do with the DoD contract with AWS?

Amazon Web Services.

The CIA uses them too.

Look it up, you lazy fucker!

It’s an article…in The Atlantic.

Dig!

There have been rumors that the votes in (for example) Michigan were sent by Dominion Voting Systems by way of AWS (which is to say, over the internet?  cloud???) to Europe in order for the votes to be tallied.

Giuliani has pointed out just how ludicrous this is.

And it is!

But what’s the exact chain?

We know there is a company called Scytl.

They are headquartered in Barcelona.

They are rumored to have a “back up” data site (servers) in Frankfurt.

There is good evidence that internet traffic in Frankfurt, Germany on the night of the U.S. election set records for that city.

Look it up.

Find it.

WikiLeaks exposed the fact that the U.S. Consulate in Frankfurt is a giant CIA hacking base.

This can be found in the Vault 7 materials from WikiLeaks.

So, did the CIA hack our election?

Seems to me like a high probability.

Indeed, Prather outlines this dichotomy:  the civil war in the U.S. has already started…and the SO/LIC confrontation can so far best be described as DIA vs. CIA (or, perhaps more accurately, military vs. CIA).

I believe this is probably accurate.

It is borne out by all the intelligence I have personally gathered (OSINT) over the past few years.

The CIA has lost its way.

I once applied there.

Thank God I didn’t get the job.

I also once tried to sell my soul to the Devil (true story), but that tale can wait…

I am saved by the grace of Jesus Christ.

I am the worst among sinners.

Which is why I need the grace of Jesus more than anyone.

I also applied for Air Force Intelligence once.

Didn’t get it.

Maybe because I have a fucking music degree and an MBA.

Not exactly what’s commonly thought needed to assess China’s answer to the F-35.

Which brings us to Prather’s point.

According to Major Prather, only the U.S. Air Force and the newly created Space Force have retained the security of their computer networks.

This is a bold claim.

I don’t have anything to really gauge it on.

Except that I have a soft spot for INSCOM (because of Q and Flynn) and a soft spot for the 4th POG (because they followed me on Twitter for some odd reason [before Jack Dorsey squashed me like a bug]).

Prather then pivots to his concerns.

He talked about possibly-imminent “interdictions” against Iran.

We have heard Q talk about Iran.

I love Iranian psychedelic music from the ’60s.

Before the Islamic revolutionaries fucked everything up.

I have nothing against Muslims.

I love them.

I have nothing against Iranians.

I love them.

I LOVE Kiarostami [RIP].

But let’s take stock for a moment here.

Joe Biden “won”.

Netanyahu pretty fucking quickly called to congratulate Joe.

And THEN…YESTERDAY Netanyahu calls to congratulate Jonathan Pollard on his release.

What in the actual fuck?!?

How pro-Israeli does a President [Trump] have to be in order to get a little respect from Israel?

Ok, ok.

I know.

Maybe Netanyahu is working with Trump behind the scenes.

Entirely possible.

Maybe we should have a sort of FVEY agreement with Israel.

But probably not.

Because, you know, remember the U.S.S. Liberty (you fuckers!).

Back to 9/11.

I have no idea if the Israelis were involved.

There was definitely some suspicious shit.

Zim-American Israeli Shipping.

Vacating the WTC right before the attacks.

And the moving truck company [Dominick Suter].

Mossad had some strange presence in and around NYC leading up to 9/11.

I don’t know what they were doing there.

And then there were the Mossad “art students” (which Pieczenik has attested to from personal experience).

All I know is this.

9/11 could not have gone undetected (and undeterred) by our military.

To the list of Rumsfeld and Cheney (Liz’s dad), we should add Ralph Eberhart, Richard Myers, etc.  And almost certainly Paul Wolfowitz, Douglas Perle, etc.

Keep in mind, nobody ever got in trouble.

The two tallest buildings in America fell down (were blown up) and all we did was waterboard KSM 183 times.

Perhaps Flynn and Anthony Shaffer could set me straight on some stuff.

I get the general gist of Able Danger.

But it still doesn’t explain a lot of things.

I’m gonna have to side with Pieczenik on this one:  we’ve seen one long procession of (unpunished) false-flags since 9/11.

Now comes the pain.

Pieczenik seemed really sure about those watermarks on the ballots.

And I believe him.

Shaffer seemed to corroborate their likelihood.

But I was of the understanding that DHS was running this election sting.

After watching this YouTube video, it has dawned on me just how suspicious Chad Wolf has been acting.

See something, say something, right?

Why wouldn’t he fire Chris Krebs?

Even more importantly, what in the actual fuck was CISA doing on the night of the election?

Alexandra Bruce brings up some pretty excellent points in this video.

If I understand her correctly, she seems to be saying that cisa WAS IN ON THE WHOLE THING!

[Which would make sense in the same way that NORAD was doubtless in on 9/11]

But here is perhaps the most intriguing bit of information which Major Prather dropped.

It is his assertion that Ezra Cohen-Watnick is, in fact, Q.

Or rather, he says something to the effect that there is a [and I paraphrase] “very high likelihood” of this.

Call me dumb, but I never even thought of that possibility.

I know who ECW is (not personally, of course).

Thomas Wictor drew attention to this personage years ago.

Said there were no pictures of him because he’s military intelligence.

It’s all starting to click.

I find the ECW theory highly-plausible.

But then Prather throws a massive curveball.

Maj. Prather asserts that Bill Barr is getting ready to indict Ezra Cohen-Watnick (!).

For what?

For being Q??

A final bit of potentially disheartening information from Prather is that “Durham has done nothing” (paraphrase).

I.e., John Durham has not, and will not, bring any of the Crossfire Hurricane [coup #1] traitors to justice.

Sure, we got Clinesmith, but give me a fucking break…

I’d still rather see Hillary get a parking ticket.

So there you have it.

The other guests in the video are all quite good.

They all have some rather harrowing predictions for the coming days/weeks/months.

All seem to agree that Trump will probably prevail and be elected to a 2nd term.

But it could get really ugly.

Ms. Burke brings up the specter of military tribunals.

I see her point.

It may be necessary.

I also highly recommend the PSYOP officer.

And the big fat guy with the beautiful brain.

-PD

Cuban Fury [2014)

“You got no fear of the underdog/

That’s why you will not survive.”

Britt Daniel wrote that lyric.

And it’s the only song by his band Spoon which has even the most remote bit of soul in it.

Such a soulless band, Spoon…

The ultimate plastic hipsters.

A male supermodel and his gang of H&M monkeys behind him.

It would almost be artistic…in sort of an Andy Warhol/Factory sort of way.

Except there is no humor in it.

Spoon are dead serious.

The irony is (ATTN:  hipsters) there’s no irony here.

All that being said, Britt Daniel wrote one of the best songs I’ve ever heard.

And it’s the one I quoted above.

“The Underdog”

It doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter that my path crossed Britt’s path.

It doesn’t matter that I was invited to audition for his band Spoon as a keyboard player.

It doesn’t matter that he probably saw me in an outfit that wasn’t quite svelte enough and promptly canceled my audition before it ever happened.

Because he underestimated the underdog.

And that’s why he will not survive.

Last I heard, Spoon (or at least their godhead, Britt) relocated to Portland.

I suppose Austin wasn’t hip enough anymore.

Either that, or his shitty personality had shit off everyone in Austin and he needed a new lot of cunts to shit on.

But I digress…

Because, as stated, Britt had a point.

Once.

In one song.

[whether he learned the lesson he sang about or not is a different story]

But it is very much germane to OUR story–to this fantastic film:

Cuban Fury.

You almost always see Nick Frost in tow behind his partner in comedy Simon Pegg.

But not this time.

And so here we start a new investigation.

The test was simple:  could Nick Frost carry a film by himself (without the great talents of Simon Pegg)?

And the answer is a resounding YES!

We start all Billy Elliott (that one thing upon which Admiral General Aladeen and his presumptive torturer could agree).

Ass kicked.

Sequins eaten.

A future star quits mid-stride.

What could have been…

Have you ever had such a moment in your life?

I have.

LIFE beat me up.

In the span of a couple of months.

And now, instead of laying down tracks on 2-inch tape, I’m making songs solely with an iPhone.

You can feel the excitement.

It had to have been at least 20 years for Bruce (Nick Frost).

He gave up his passion.

Thought he would never cross paths again with salsa dancing.

He had been on the precipice of the youth national title in Britain.

Then his life went humdrum.

Works an office job for a company specializing in lathes.

The most nondescript industry possible.

But he gets a new boss.

Rashida Jones.

She is excellent here.

She hits just the right notes in her performance.

She is Bruce’s new boss.

But, as fortune would have it, she (an American in Britain) loves salsa.

Bruce is gobsmacked.

Enough so to turn his life around.

To attempt to reel in the years.

Equally brilliant as the first two players I’ve mentioned (Frost and Jones) is Ian McShane.

You might remember him as the head of MI6 in The Brothers Grimsby.

But ironically, his role here (as Bruce’s former dance teacher) is far heavier.

Think Burgess Meredith with an occasional lisping Spanish one would expect to hear in Madrid.

And McShane injects some Keith Richards pirate couture for good measure.

This is a HARD man.

Drinking tequila the whole film.

And he’s a fucking dance teacher.

A TOUGH dance teacher.

He’s tough because he sees the potential in his student.

And he won’t let his student half-ass this endeavor.

Either you go “all in”, or you go home.

Passion.

El corazón.

This film is truly a joy to watch.

…to see Nick Frost regain what truly makes him happy.

To dance.

It’s the story of someone reclaiming themselves.

Rewinding life…just enough to relive ones happiest former version of being (and relocate oneself).

But here’s the other part.

The ladies.

Or lady, here.

They just see Nick as a fat schlub.

No way this guy could dance salsa, right?

Every day suffering insults from a particularly nasty coworker.

Let me illustrate.

For me, supporting President Trump brings me daily grief.

Every day I am made aware (by “liberals”) that they hate me.

I am treated badly.

In person.

At work.

Online.

Simply trying to start my romantic life over and date.

I am very upfront.

Listed front and center:  “I voted for Trump.”

Kind of like an, “Abandon hope, ye who enter”.

But more like:  Let the Buyer Beware.

I lay it all out there.

“I live with my parents.”

etc.

And I get some shitty shit.

Which is why, every once in awhile, I think God is looking out for me.

I think maybe that God sees what I go through.

I’m not mean.

I’m not rude.

I don’t proselytize in a political sense.

I try to show warmth to others.

I try to show God’s love with my actions.

And boy do I end up throwing my pearls before swine sometimes…

Often, perhaps.

Lots of swine.

And it gets me down.

But I thought today was gonna be better.

Since last night.

Things had been going really well for me.

And now, here at 4 in the morning, I find myself back in a similar spot.

But it’s ok.

Because God loves me.

And if a bunch of braindead bitches wanna ignore the underdog,

then we won’t be surprised why they didn’t find happiness.

So this is a love story.

Forbidden love.

Nick Frost is in love with his boss.

Because his boss is perfect…for him.

It’s FaTE.

God puts us in the position to win.

But true winning is not always capturing first place.

“You can’t always get what you want…

But if you try sometimes,

you might find,

you get what you need.”

Where have I heard that song these past four years?

Ah, yes.

She was never supposed to lose.

Hillary Clinton.

She underestimated the underdog.

That’s why she did not survive.

Before this goes totally off the rails.

Love is the greatest victory there is.

But love has to be reciprocated.

If you’re a superstar (and I know you are, my dear reader), then you deserve AT LEAST as much as you give.

When you give love, compliments, gifts, affection, etc.

If you find yourself always to be the giver…and never allowed to be the taker (because nothing is given to you), then you just might be in the wrong situation.

I know I was.

And, praise God, I am out of that for the time being.

Except for at least one catch.

The world, our world, is primarily composed of takers.

Ingrates.

People without manners.

Humans unfamiliar with common courtesy.

Unpracticed at recognizing fairness.

People who have very little conscience (if any whatsoever).

And they are either unaware that they are such assholes, or they are aware and they simply do not care.

So again, it’s just me on this computer here.

Sitting in the dark.

Typing.

But that’s ok.

Because in this movie, a fat guy gets a beautiful girl.

And he gets her because he’s good at something.

Do you feel me?

But we must be righteous too.

Let us not underestimate OUR personal underdogs.

Let us not defile the name of God by letting superficiality reign.

God will show us the way.

Let us do what is just.

I ask that all who read this may be helped.

That each of them may know that God loves them.

And I ask this in the name of the Son of God.

I ask this by the power that is in the name Jesus.

God works in mysterious ways.

Our loving God will not be mocked.

God will not lose in the end.

We are entrusted with great responsibility.

But we know who wins.

And we know that the ending is magnificent.

And we know that all are welcome in the Kingdom of Heaven.

God only asks that we have humility.

The humility to ask forgiveness.

And God does not demand perfection.

The coin which God accepts, for eternal life, is faith.

And God charges no interest on this coin.

It is given freely, yet it is the most valuable thing in the universe.

Praise be to His holy name.

Indictments = start.

 

-PD

Lost River [2014)

There’s something very weird going on in Hollywood.

And it has been going on for a long time.

You can look for yourself in Kenneth Anger’s books.

Strange stories about Clara Bow.

The first “It” girl.

From the film of the same name.

And how she kept her skin so soft (ostensibly).

But the range of weirdness in Hollywood seems to move along a continuum.

There are levels.

Not unlike Freemasonry.

Or Scientology.

The hedonism of Henry Miller would be a very low level.

But what we are dealing with here, in this film, is an allusion to a higher level.

Really, the highest level.

There really isn’t a more mot juste for this phenomenon than Satanism.

And, perhaps, even that word does not fully describe what is at issue.

If one was hard-pressed to boil it down–to refine it further, perhaps “evil” would be the essential element.

Recently, the internet collective known only as QAnon “dropped” a crumb of information regarding an establishment in Los Angeles known as the Cannibal Club.

You can find all Q drops here.

The drop in question is #3917 from April 8th of this month.

Here is the website to which Q linked.

It indeed follows the train of thought I delineated above.

You will see the Henry Miller quote (an author I deeply admire).

But then you will see a perversion far beyond (to my knowledge) anything Henry Miller ever wrote about.

What you see on the Cannibal Club website appears to be a restaurant which serves human flesh.

However, with a bit of research, I came to the conclusion that this particular institution (as it is presented) is likely fake.

Why?

The names of the principals all come back empty.  None of them have a digital footprint that I can find.  Sophie Lafitte.  Elspeth Blake.  Hero Conners.  Raven Chan.

The photo of Cannibal Club’s proprietress, Elspeth Blake, was first cached as a stock photo in 2012.

The photo of Raven Chan also was first cached (before it was used on the Cannibal Club website) as a stock photo.  Both photos appear to have originated on the website istockphoto.com .  They are generic pictures.

The Cannibal Club website went live with content in 2009.  Neither the menu, nor the “events” have changed.

My conclusion was that this was a joke made by demented, artsy liberals in order to seed panic in America’s conservative population.

That was my hypothesis:  it is almost certainly a sick joke.

But here’s the rub…

Things like this very well may exist.

Indeed, they probably do.

And thereby we come to the film Lost River.

It came out a mere two years before Trump was elected.

Before Harvey Weinstein was convicted of sex crimes and sent to prison (where, last I heard, he had coronavirus).

Before jet-setter Jeffrey Epstein “hung himself” in a Manhattan jail cell.

You know, Epstein…the guy who flew Bill Clinton and Kevin Spacey to Africa.

All this was before Kevin Spacey had numerous sex crime charges brought against him.

And two of his accusers recently dropped dead (over the past year) bringing both cases to a halt.

Lost River.

I appreciate the style.

Very heavy on the David Lynch (with a modicum of Harmony Korine thrown in).

The focus on “place” is very similar to the technique David Lynch and Mark Frost used to ground the town of Twin Peaks in the TV series of the same name.

Evil.

In the woods.

Underwater.

Underground.

And in secret clubs.

Director Ryan Gosling did a pretty good job with this film.

We will forgive him for lifting the ambiance of that Orbison scene from Mulholland Dr. to repurpose it in his Lost River blood-and-guts cabaret.

Because the reason I watched this film at all was for Christina Hendricks.

She has the potential to join a modern pantheon which, at this time, includes only Thora Birch and Kat Dennings.

Though we are never told this in the film, it is set in Detroit.

And that makes sense.

Deserted neighborhoods with crumbling houses.

But it could be anywhere in America if China’s economic warfare (COVID-19) is not soon countered.

Matt Smith does a good job as Bully:  the embodiment of serial-killer animalism.

The thug.

The gangster.

The cartel head.

Extreme cruelty.

Sadistic.

Gosling did a great job location scouting for the zoo scene.

The abandoned zoo.

Very much like the film Hanna and its scenes in the abandoned Spreepark of East Berlin.

Ben Mendelsohn is a fucker.

Such a prick.

But smart.

He’s not an animal like Bully, though he has rage inside him.

He is more of a predator.

And he is much more powerful.

His character, Dave, is a banker.

And Dave tells us, during the course of the film, that he sets up a little “club” in each of the towns he goes to.

Seems Dave gets moved around a lot.

Comes in.

Fires people.

Gets the books on a firmer footing.

And moves on to the next town where he can oblige the poor and demented with a bit of blood lust with his clubs.

Lots of blood.

Lots of lust.

Dave overlaps nicely onto the persona of Harvey Weinstein.

Christina Hendricks is immediately propositioned by the bank manager.

Dave is a thoroughly-unscrupulous scumbag.

Hendricks just wants to hang on to her home…dilapidated though it may be.

Saoirse Ronan does a nice job in a relatively-minor role here.

She glitters occasionally…as she plays her Casio on her bed with sparkly finger polish.

Whispering out a little song.

Or as she tucks in her pet rat for the night.

But it is not the ginger Ronan we are used to.

Her hair is black.

To fit with the landscape.

And to let Hendricks (also a redhead) stand out as the star.

Saoirse is the “girl next door”…literally.

In the tradition of American Beauty.

By this method we can trace Gosling’s influences.

The overarching one is David Lynch.

This film is creepy.

Plenty creepy.

Much of the creepiness comes from the casting.

It really is an amalgam of Lynch’s freaks with Harmony Korine’s amateurs.

There is the grief of the mute grandmother.

Caught in a loop of family films.

Mourning her late-husband who died tragically.

It is sad.

It happens.

The inability to talk for some time after a shock.

Extreme PTSD.

The family films are sad.

Watching how they used to be.

The way they were.

And the grandmother still a widow…with a fishnet veil for mourning.

There is some rubbish in this movie.

Kind of how the second season of Twin Peaks went off the rails.

Eva Mendes is good here.

And scary.

In the basement is something very Ex Machina (also 2014).

And even more so John Cale’s Vintage Violence.

Shells.

Mortal coils.

Simulation.

Apparently, customers can come down and “murder” real people in these shells.

The shells are of a hard, clear plastic.

And formfitting.

The shells supposedly prevent any real bodily harm.

But we never really see them in action.

Iain De Caestecker is pretty good here.

There is a realness in the urgency of his running.

Gosling’s editing crystalizes this.

Running for love.

Panic.

Running to save.

To set off running.

Unprepared for how long the journey really is.

Something special here.

Good vs. evil.

To give.

Charity.

To be selfish.

To ignore the needs of others.

To follow the voice of God.

To follow the instruction of the Holy Spirit.

To be humble before God.

To fear God.

To feel evil all around.

When it comes, and when it goes.

But the most quizzical scene is when Christina Hendricks cuts her own face off (in simulation, of course) in exactly the way we have heard about in the infamous, rumored Frazzledrip video.

In 2014.

Two years before such a thing came to light.

What a strange coincidence.

Let us synthesize more.

Could there be clubs (in L.A., for instance) where children have their faces cut off (for real) in front of an audience of sickos?

Further question, how does Hollywood (in L.A.) have the “imagination” to write these sorts of scenes?

Sure, there’s the old French film Eyes Without a Face.

But that was cosmetic.

It wasn’t for the thrill of spectators.

It was a medical procedure gone wrong.

Gory as it was, it was to SAVE the face of his daughter that the misguided doctor went on a hunt for faces.

Here, the faces are potlatched (apparently).

Or eaten.

But again, this is just a “cabaret”, we are told.

We see behind the scenes.

“Fake blood”.

So where is the truth in these “jokes”?

What kinds of personalities find humor in this?

John Podesta famously jokes about cannibalism in Time magazine and elsewhere.

He jokes about the cannibalistic Donner party.

He had cannibal art hanging on his office wall (a loan from his art-collector-brother Tony Podesta).

Strange fixation, that.

Very creepy.

Verging on Silence of the Lambs.

Ed Gein.

Dahmer.

Really vile stuff.

This is an interesting movie.

Gosling has talent as a director.

He should make more films.

This was his debut.

He has directed nothing sense.

My only quibble is this:  Christina Hendricks was so misused here.

Saoirse Ronan was almost equally misused.

Gosling needs to watch more Godard.

More Hitchcock.

You don’t cast Grace Kelly only to have her wear the same sweater for the whole film.

But it’s also Hendricks’ fault.

She has talent.

But she must embrace who she is.

She is not a good enough actor to be a puritan.

 

-PD

Good Morning, Vietnam [1987)

Things are sad here.

This is a war.

Pieczenik has outlined it as both biological warfare and psychological warfare.

Morale.

How to keep morale high?

Maybe you love someone.

Or maybe you’re just attracted to them.

But as you see them leave in a hurry, you wonder whether it might be the last time.

Are we winning?

Are we gonna make it back home?

Everything is shot to shit.

Destroyed.

The DJ is lonely.

Daft.

But quite possibly a genius.

And so you can see how Robin Williams might have committed suicide.

The Great Pretender.

Tears of a Clown.

Death of a Clown.

Drugs have taken hold.

Not the gentle breasts of the opium den, but the annihilation of heroin.

Even the General smokes.

Because you don’t know how many days you have left.

One minute you’re fine.

The next you get blown up by the Vietcong.

Or the virus gets in your lungs.

In times of great distress (to paraphrase), comedians are needed.

“We are the music makers and we are the dreamers of dreams.”

Willy Wonka said that.

As he grabbed Veruca Salt’s impudent mouth.

Cash is getting low.

Grapes of Wrath.

But we hang on.

With our radios.

And our MacBooks.

To have a zany DJ.

A “maniac”!

Yes.

On a boring street.

In a tense environment.

Theater of war.

Conflict.

Bittersweet.

Perhaps with more knowledge comes more sadness.

But the heart needs to heal.

The psychic energy has been vomited up.

The emetic was psychological.

Autobiographical.

And now I feel wasted.

Limp.

Fatigued.

But hopeful.

I will press on.

I am 43 years old.

There are good things about me.

I recognize what society sees as my shortcomings.

But I am on ice.

And yet it is temporary.

I was never cut out for the military.

And neither was Adrian Cronauer.

But there are many subgroups in the military.

Many ingenious ways by which to put creative individuals to work.

If the totality of war is fully understood.

Outcast.

Freak.

Break the rules.

Skirt the rules.

Play.

Emphasis on play.

Whimsy.

Quixotic.

Cronauer is a bit like Alex Jones.

Which makes sense.

When one sees the admiration Steve Pieczenik has for Alex Jones.

Not just anyone can get in front of a mic and do that.

We get a bit of Stripes here (rehashed).

Do the right thing.

Make true friends.

Long-lasting connections.

Be a good person.

Watch how your life achieves harmony.

Censorship.

Gimme Some Truth.

The pointless pursuit of the unattainable.

Sadness in human history.

In a foreign land.

Where no shops are open.

Where there are no places to congregate.

Our job is important.

We fall into a niche which is not easily defined.

The creators.

Of content.

And happiness.

The most electric scenes here directed by Barry Levinson are those of Robin Williams at work.

Spinning records.

Dancing.

You can feel the energy.

He plays off the reactions of his crew.

And the camera captures the frenzy with a shaking electricity.

Back in the real world, we must decide whether to go on being DJs and clowns.

Many dead ends.

And a broken heart.

A heavy heart.

But God says, “I got you, dawg.”

And we take this as gospel truth.

 

-PD

Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory [1971)

Now we come to a crucial crossroads.

30,665 deaths so far in the United States from COVID-19.

Over a month ago, on or about March 12th, my girlfriend broke up with me.

But she didn’t do it in any sort of clearcut way.

I committed a transgression.

I wrote a very unflattering song about her.

Musically speaking, it was a very good song.

And so, out of blind pride, I posted it on my SoundCloud page.

It was written out of frustration.

I did not feel that I could discuss anything of substance with my girlfriend.

But I must qualify that statement.

I was unable to give her criticism…at all…ever.

No matter how tactfully I phrased it, she was not open to critique.

And she was always this way.

I will let the psychiatrists in the room now give their opinions as to the reason why.

[             ]

Thank you, good sirs.

You see, my girlfriend used to be my fiancée.

And before that she was my girlfriend.

My beginning is my end.

Understand that I waited 41 years to propose to a girl.

And propose I did.

And she accepted.

It was a joyful day.

I wore my best (only) suit.

I brought flowers (as I did every time I saw her).

We were happy.

I thought that giving her the reassurance of engagement would improve her attitude.

While I was never allowed to give her criticism (without a resulting emotional explosion from her), she was allowed to give me criticism.

And she did.

From the moment I met her.

Her very first words to me when we first met in person were a CORRECTION of my faux pas.

I didn’t stand when she entered the room and approached my table.

I admit that I was in error.

But I was enraptured by her beauty.

And that was the first of many, MANY criticisms I would receive from her over the ensuing four months until our engagement.

Perhaps my optimism was misguided.

After a brief “honeymoon period”, the criticisms came back.

But I must give some “back story” to fill in her character profile.

She had lost a child mid-pregnancy just two years prior.

And less than one year before meeting me, she had lost her husband in a tragic traffic collision.

I was very compassionate to the special needs of this truly unique child of God.

My fiancée.

I wanted to help.

I overlooked many of her character flaws…attributing them to her PTSD and depression.

But every anniversary was like an eruption.

The date when her child died.

The date when her child was supposed to have been born.

The date when her husband died.

Her and her late-husband’s wedding anniversary.

Amidst all this struggle, she wanted to have another child.

Her one child had been lost.

Before ever really entering the world.

I obliged.

I loved her.

I was scared.

“What kind of father material am I?,” I thought.

But I pressed on.

I always acquiesced to her demands.

We did things HER WAY.

ALWAYS.

And it was stressful.

“Let’s go to a fertility clinic.”

Yadayadayada.

All while I am working to make ends meet.

“I will soon be too old to have children.”

A frantic pace.

Interspersed with bouts of her extreme depression.

Lovely stuff, I assure you.

It drove me back to tobacco.

And it drove me nuts.

Everything snapped for me.

One day I woke up and realized I couldn’t go to work.

I was done.

And so for 9 months, I had to be reborn.

I had to detox.

To her credit, she stuck by me (more or less).

And then tragedy struck again.

Her mother died.

I frantically tried to get my old job back (though I was not quite fully healed).

And I did.

I wanted to help her save her apartment which she loved.

But she got sick.

And sicker.

And sicker.

I kept the job.

But the apartment was lost.

And now she lives with her dad.

Just as I live with my parents (a situation she gave me grief about many times).

“Many who are first shall be last, and the last shall be first.”

Jesus spoke of karma.

And I’m sure I have a lifetime of wrecked karma ready to crash down on ME at any moment.

But sometimes the irony is too dripping.

There was the hospitalization.

Six days she was there.

I came every night (five nights).

After working until midnight sometimes.

But it was not enough.

She wasn’t satisfied.

After the hospital, she got worse (in many ways).

Finally, I was asked by her family not to contact her anymore.

Not to cause her “grief”.

And like that, our engagement vanished into thin air.

For 17 days I lived in a darkness.

And so did she.

She was very sick.

I heard nothing from her.

And then she slipped back into my life.

Slowly.

But it was so confusing.

She didn’t want to be engaged anymore (she said).

She wanted to take a (big) step backwards.

I wasn’t too happy about this, but I accepted.

And so we made it several months.

A nice Valentine’s Day.

But something was worse than before.

There was absolutely no reciprocation.

If I complimented her (which I did often), she would not compliment me.

If I did something nice for her (which I often did), it was very soon forgotten (and certainly not answered with a loving action from her).

I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t.

She was still too sick, she said.

And so things dragged on thusly.

And then I wrote that song which changed my life.

That song of frustration.

I am not proud of it.

Though it be musically a good composition, it caused her sadness.

When she happened to find it.

You see, I would write songs for this girl of mine.

I recorded 183 songs for her over the course of two years.

Some covers.

Some original instrumentals.

Some original songs.

Many of these gifts barely got a word of thanks in return.

Same for the thousands of dollars of flowers I bought for her over the same time period.

There’s even one song that she appears to have never bothered even listening to.

And it’s a good one.

After six months, it shows that it has zero listens.

Well, no one is perfect.

There were probably (almost certainly) other songs she never heard.

It just wasn’t what she needed at the time.

I can attest.

She was very, very sick.

183 songs.

Some she never got around to listening to.

In my frustration, I sang to the world.

I wrote…and put it in a bottle.

Like putting a leaf in a flowing stream.

To get rid of that care.

But of course, she found that particular leaf.

She interrogated me about it.

“No,” I said (trying to be tactful), “it’s not about you.”

But my conscience got to me.

And so the next day I came clean.

Yes, the song is about you.

I apologized sincerely.

I made no excuses whatsoever.

I didn’t plead my case.

She didn’t ask (never has) how I came to a place of such frustration.

But that was the last I heard from her.

For 10 days.

The first 10 days of this coronavirus pandemic in the United States.

I went through it alone.

I sent texts.

I sent emails.

All went unanswered for 10 days.

And when we came out, she was less than my girlfriend.

I told her I loved her…and got no response.

That was five weeks ago.

And so we have been winding things down.

We still talk.

But she is incapable of discussing our former relationship.

It stresses her out to much.

And she never even bothered breaking up with me.

So we are “just friends” now.

And I have tried to be there for her during this coronavirus crisis.

Which brings us to Willy Wonka.

This was one of the most formative movies of my life.

Perhaps THE most formative.

In elementary school, when the teachers were too lazy to teach, they’d put this film on.

And I would sit enraptured.

No matter how many times they showed it.

And they showed it to us MANY times.

It must have been one of the few VHS tapes which was approved for them to screen.

So what does this all mean?

Coronavirus, a wrecked romantic relationship, Willy Wonka…

Here is a partial answer:

a film reviewer should be cognizant of what is going on in their life and how that affects their “reading” of a certain film.

I rewatched this film tonight (for the umpteenth time) and saw stuff I had never seen before.

New details noticed.

But I was watching it with the sadness of romantic loss.

And with the stress of total societal isolation.

I have worked on the front lines of the service industry all throughout this crisis.

Precisely for the mental health BENEFIT it gave me.

Exercise.

Ersatz social interaction (with coworkers and customers).

But now, my store has been hit with a close encounter.

And so our hours have been shaved.

No more midnight.

Midnight shifted to 10 p.m.

And now, abruptly, 10 p.m has shifted to 2 p.m.

Can you imagine a coffee shop closing at 2 p.m.?

Well, that’s us right now.

And I am fairly certain I have delayed sleep phase disorder.

My “availability” starts at 4 p.m. each day.

So I have AT LEAST the next eight days off.

And I have had the past two off as well.

But five of my coworkers are home self-isolating…because they had potential second-hand exposure to COVID-19.

I miss them.  I’m making them music playlists.  I’m buying them groceries.  I’m sending them texts and emojis.

What a horrible situation to be in.

I myself was homebound today because of my asthma.

And that is our world.

Every sniffle.

Every sneeze.

Every sore throat.

As the mold floats on the breeze.

And the oaks bloom.

As particle pollution undulates.

Along with ozone.

Is it ‘rona?

If I need to take a Tylenol, is it ‘rona?

If I were to get coronavirus, it would be very bad indeed.

I live with my two elderly parents.

I have asthma.

I have high blood pressure.

And I have a whole bevy of mental problems.

But I chose to work.

I ran towards the sound of gunfire.

Whether it was stupid or brave, that is for others to decide.

And so now, here I sit with this masterpiece:

Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory.

Mel Stuart may be an auteur whose time is yet to come.

But the secret weapon is Walter Scharf.

Did he write the music?

No.

But he orchestrated it.

And such gossamer orchestration it is!

We start poor.

Shaggy dog.

Charlie Bucket.

A peasant’s name if there ever was one.

Crazy man plants the seeds of conspiracy.

About the factory.

*Charlie lives with his parents (as most young boys do).

But he also lives with all four of his grandparents.

And his father is deceased.

Willy Wonka is certainly a film about espionage.

Economic espionage.

Business espionage.

With overtones of state espionage.

International espionage.

Remnants of war.  England.  Germany.

Wonka’s factory is like Area 51.

But this film is unique in that it delineates a search.

A search by a man.

Or an organization.

Or agency.

Or entity.

A search for that one special person.

[decades before The Matrix]

God tested Abraham.

“…kill me a son/Abe said, ‘Man, you must be puttin’ me on!’/

God said, ‘No.’/Abe said, ‘What?’/God said, ‘You can do what you want Abe, but…uh/

next time you see me comin’ you better run.’/Abe said, ‘Where you want this killin’ done?’/  God said, ‘Out on Highway 61.'”

God, of course, STOPPED Abraham from killing his son.

But only AFTER Abraham had committed fully…knife in hand…to slit his son’s throat.

Great reading, that.

The Bible.

And this is a very biblical tale, Willy Wonka.

The eccentric Jesus.

God the Father…in the Heavens…with his Inventing Room.

The chocolate factory is heaven.

And only those who become like a child can enter…and stay.

Only those who are born again (made pure like a child) can inherit this chocolate factory.

God wants to pass on his greatest creation.

Heaven.

And God tests us.

But there is grace.

Charlie and Grandpa Joe mess up.

They drink the fizzy lifting drink.

They hang suspended like Icarus and Daedalus.

Their wings don’t melt.

They have the opposite problem.

They are on a collision course with the edge of ether.

Until they learn how to burp.

Stephen Dedalus…

Cicada 3301.

GCHQ recruiting.

Puzzles.

QAnon.

NSA.

Kryptos.

Who can solve the final part?

Right there at Langley.

Some might say I was engaged to Veruca Salt.

Wonka running counterespionage.

Counterintelligence.

Slugworth in Switzerland.

For Your Eyes Only.

Octagonal.

And hope.

Get out of bed.

Go back to work.

Warning strictly against “frippery”.

Again with Roger Moore in A View to a Kill.

Sideways fan.

Spoiled brat.

Always got what she wanted.

Cautionary tale of poor parenting.

God is merciful.

All is dream.

But God cannot be mocked.

His word is eternal.

Jesus was the Word made flesh.

Superseding the Ten Commandments.

There is freedom in Christ, but we are not to go on sinning.

We will mess up.

But it is by grace that we are saved.

So that no man may boast.

It is not by good works.

But the heart must be contrite.

And, above all, pure.

Made pure by the Holy Spirit.

When one invites God into ones life.

A little bit of divinity in each of us.

And quite a bit of divinity in this film.

By this logic, Satan (created by God) may be a Slugworth to be unmasked in the end times.

Lucifer…with that scar on his face.

The mark of Cain.

The murderer.

Finally, this is Gene Wilder’s best work.

He channels something here which is otherworldly.

Wilder became immortal with this film.

And he lives on.

As long as there is goodness in this world, we have a chance.

I want to thank my friend, the great writer Chris Lindsay, for encouraging me to write onwards during these dark times.

Thank you, Chris.

 

-PD

Who’s Minding the Store? [1963)

Here’s a great movie.

And a great chance to take stock.

To assess.

Work.

And money.

I got engaged.

Recently.

Yay me!

It’s a very big thing.

I’ve never been engaged before.

But today I’m scared.

Because I’m poor.

Money fluctuates.

And I worry I won’t be able to provide for my love the way I would want.

Kinda like Jerry Lewis in this film.

A schmuck.

Hard-working, but still entry-level.

That’s me.

Whaddle-it-be, man?

And yet, I’m rich in love.

I love.

And my love loves me.

This I know.

And so.

I will take that knowledge forth.

My love doesn’t love me for my money.

Because I haven’t got much.

But what if I had less?

And what if what if???

Money troubles.

Many bad things happen in money troubles.

But I am just over-excited.

I tip too much.

I go a little overboard.

If I could only write like Mozart…

But I do.

In my own way.

These strains you haven’t heard in a long while.

Because they have been buried.

We have to suffer.

And so I suffer now in this moment.

Fear.

Oh, the ignominy!

Of picking up trash.

Of licking the boots of bourgeoisie.

Those who fancy themselves to be above their position.

Like me.

Fair enough.

To kiss ass.

With a master’s degree.

Obviously I’m in the wrong line of work.

But I press on.

Dumb, but steady.

Trying to be honest.

Trying to make an honest living.

Learning hard lessons.

If someone would abandon me for over-loving, then to hell with them.

YOLO.

YOLT.

JOLT.

That thunderbolt looms large.

I am flawed.

Pressed on all sides.

Said Saint Paul.

Like the Star Wars trash compactor.

So I make this a prayer.

Knowing my love believes in God.

I pray to you, Lord, that you will give me a chance.

That you will help me with my mistakes.

That you will not make others suffer because of my ignorance.

I pray, Lord, that you will put opportunities before me.

And that you will help me to be a better person.

I am not used to all of this.

Can I pull it back and win?

It is to God that I pray.

Beg, knowing I am blessed.

Blessed simply by the same grace which is available to every man and woman.

All creations of God.

I ask God help with my health.

My peace of mind.

Please help with my striving to be healthy.

Please give me strength and grace to overcome the obstacles now before me.

And I ask you, Lord, to give me guidance in my career.

In work.

How to spend my time.

Where to spend it.

And how to spend my money.

How to save it.

Give me wisdom, dear Lord.

I have nerves.

But I am an artist.

And God is my parachute.

Do not tempt the Lord your God.

Who helps those who help themselves.

With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.

Jesus.

God’s got this.

 

-PD

Sicario: Day of the Soldado [2018)

It’s been a long fucking time.

Because life is hard.

And I’ve been watching the same three Pink Panther movies over and over.

Just to get by.

But recently, God has brought me love.

Heavenly love.

An angel.

A girlfriend.

Yes.

Can you believe it?

Well, hardly neither can I.

So I should start by saying that I saw Sicario:  Day of the Soldado IN A MOVIE THEATER!

What a concept.

Yeah.

It’s been at least a couple of years since I ventured into the thrall of urban sprawl to freeze my tits off in a cinemaplex.

But God bless the Alamo Draft House.

It’s the little things that matter.

The Clint Eastwood “Don’t Do Crack” PSA.

The Mexican teen beat (?) videos.

All kinds of kooky pre-film festivities which whet the intellectual appetite and let you know that you are in a place which at least marginally cares.

-PD