Holiday

Happy Mass Murder day.

Once again we come to May First.

This is the day on which Leftists traditionally shout out their claim to be morally superior beings who are entitled to rule over us mere humans and take the product of our thought and labor to use as they they see fit for the betterment of mankind. And if you really believe their claims then obviously you won't notice the pile of the one hundred million-plus human bodies that the self styled agents of progress have left in their wake as they have made their way to power, and willfully abused that power over us mere humans.  When we see through the ideology and other claims of the Left it's very readily apparent that their doctrine is nothing more than a modernistic facade placed over the old stone age practice of beating up or killing people and taking their stuff.  It is time that we see the Left for what they truly are, not as the vanguard of moral progress, but only a gang of thieves and murderers.
 
One of things I usually do on May Day is to repost the Affirmations for the Inner Communist, Ayn Rand once said that it was morally acceptable mock evil as long as it was recognized as evil. So once again I present:

Stuart Smalley's Daily Affirmations for the Inner Communist

Monday:

"I'm going to execute and expropriate today just for the heck of it because, gosh darn it, I deserve to have a good time."

Tuesday:

"I am not a fraud, a Marxist yes, but not a fraud."

Wednesday:

"I deserve all the mass adulation from the people I can get without feeling ashamed or being grandiose."

Thursday:

"I will express my feelings today. I will not hide them behind my mustache. My mustache is not a mask for my feelings, but rather a small patch of facial hair that covers my inadequacies."

Friday:

"When I rob a bank for the cause, I will not be playing those parent tapes in my head: "You wield a revolver like a girl" . . . "Why can't you be more like Stalin?" . . . "Philosophy? What kind of major is that? It's useless!"

Saturday:

"Just because I execute Christians and counter-revolutionaries does not mean I'm an mass-murdering psychopath like my father."

Sunday:

"If I must violently put down a counter-revolution today, it is not because I am a bad person or that I am not worthy of love; it is because my people are a bunch of religion-addicted capitalist sons-of-bitches--and I am mean enough, ruthless enough, and dog gone it, people fear me."

We should recall that Comrade Stalin was embalmed and displayed next to Lenin for eight years.

Apparently so everyone in the Soviet Union could be assured that he was in fact dead.

The theory of Communism was invented by a group of professional parasites in order to give the appearance of modernity and moral legitimacy to the stone-age practice of beating-up and killing productive people and taking their stuff. Of course that is about the nicest description I could give to it. Normally I think of the practice of Communism as being the behavior of those who chose to act as sub-human predatory animals. And as with any other predatory animal that attacks human beings I believe that they should be hunted down and killed. Parasite mentalities as a general rule see themselves as superior beings and other people, the productive population, exist solely as either tools that they can use to pursue their goals or as trash to be disposed of. Killing those who rightfully refuse to be the slaves of the self-appointed superior beings is not an act of murder, in their minds it's simply the disposal of hominid garbage. In practical terms a Communist is a mortal enemy of human kind and killing a Communist can be no more wrongful than putting down a rabid animal or destroying any other active hazard to human life.

The fact of the matter is that the self-described "Peace Activist" does not act out of conscience but out of a fraudulent desire to pose as a morally superior being without any regard for the millions of innocents that they condemn to death and servitude. A "Peace Activist" is a willing accessory to the acts of mass slavery and mass murders committed by the various adherents of toxic ideologies such as Socialism and Islam. And killing a "Peace Activist" is not an act of murder, it is in effect the putting down of a diseased animal which is a demonstrated hazard to innocent Human Life.

A Democratic Socialist is still a Socialist and still a Enemy of Mankind and still a Murderer.

 How many people have Marxists murdered?

Over 3000 a day on average a day during the Cold War.

A basic premise of Collectivism is that all people need a leader to think for them and to collectively direct their lives. In the Collectivist view the Russians needed a big brother or father figure such as Stalin, the Chinese needed a Mao, the Koreans (not just in the north) needed the Kim Dynasty.  And we in the United States absolutely require the guidance of The Big Zero or Hillary. 

(Of course any sympathies the Left ever had for fellow socialists like the Austrian Corporal or the Loud Mouthed Italian fellow have been quietly dropped down the memory hole.)

This is, of course, a total fantasy.

The Shepherd Fantasy appears to be a psychological device that Collectivists use to evade knowledge of, or to mentally blank out, the fact that they are not really useful members of a human society but are truly nothing more than a bunch of parasites and outright predators who are feeding off their betters.

As Ayn Rand once pointed out, they need us. We on the other hand, have absolutely no use for them.

So why won’t the Collectivists get out of the way of those of us who live in the Real World?

Because they know that sooner or later, we will properly identify them for what they are, and that we will eventually turn our guns upon them.

 How many people have died escaping from capitalism?

 "Better see the Reds dead!"

--Ayn Rand

 "To send men to the firing squad Judicial proof is unnecessary.  These procedures are an archaic bourgeois detail.  This is a revolution and a revolutionary must become a cold killing machine motivated by pure hate."

--Che Guevara, Marxist Murderer

Those who dehumanize them themselves cannot claim protection under a human right.  Killing a Marxist is no more an act of murder than putting down a rabid dog or eliminating any other hazard to Human Life.

Josef Stalin, Mao Zedong, and Pol Pot died peacefully instead of properly at the end of a rope.  Socialism was the most toxic ideology promoted in the previous century, there's no excuse to promote it.

If The Democrats want to behave like Socialists, fine.  Let's treat them like Socialists, in the Nuremberg style, from the neck until dead.

 (Image from Mark Urbin.)

Another Image.

 

A good Communist.

Seriously

(Thanks it Mark Urbin for the image)

Unfortunately the answer is yes.

This what happens when the other party is allowed to get away with cheating.  There is simply no excuse for this walking piece of excrement to occupy a seat in the United States Senate.

A few years ago I wrote a bit of short fiction depicting the proper disposal of a simular piece of excrement:

From the Unpublished Memoirs of Allen Keller.

November 22, 2008


I had to do an Urquhartcide today.

Al Stein was by his own claim and the opinion of the morally and esthetically dysfunctional members of self-styled intellectual class a comedian. In fact he was a boring old socialist drone with delusions of talent. He was also a political commentator with delusions of credibility. His most recent misadventure prior to standing as a candidate for the U.S. Senate from Minnesota was as a talk show host on the Socialist talk radio network known as Air America.

I recall when Air America -- more properly labeled as Radio Pravda -- started up, the local affiliate put up posters at bus stops proclaiming that it was "talk radio without the lies." Something that could only be achieved by a Socialist radio station by the broadcast of dead silence.

So anyway Comrade Stein ran for the Senate against the incumbent Republican Norm Colman. Norm is a nice guy, but like most Republicans he's too nice. He won but the margin of victory was close enough under state law to mandate a recount.

This was where the problem really became apparent.

Local election officials, all Democrats of course, began reporting misplaced ballots or other forms of counting errors to the state election board. All of these so-called corrections favored Comrade Stein. It was very readily apparent that this senate seat was about to be stolen.

On top of this some of Comrade Stein's supporters were camped out on the front yard of his residence in Minneapolis. This had the effect of severely limiting our other options for solving the problem.

However an opportunity opened up when the owner of a new Italian restaurant, who wasn't terribly fond of Marxists, tipped us off that Comrade Stein had made reservations for Saturday night. I asked the owner to reserve a table for two on the same night.

My companion for the evening was a junior secretary from the local British consulate. She was in fact one of Corder's people, sent here to support JM and I in our plot to "dominate the world." I sat with my back to Comrade Stein and his party.

La Gondola, the new restaurant, had opened in the space formerly occupied by a Tex-Mex eatery on the southeast corner of Seventh Street and Hennepin Avenue in downtown Minneapolis. While waiting for the opportunity to solve the Stein problem I spoke to my dinner companion about the history of the building.

"Right over there," I pointed to the corner of the building on the intersection, "was one of the two Fanny Farmer candy shops I worked at after school."

"What did you do?" She asked.

"Light janitorial stuff." I said. "Two days a week here. Tuesday and I had the choice of working on either Thursday or Saturday. I picked Saturday."

"Well...why Saturday?" She was puzzled.

"I didn't want be dragged up to my family's lake place on the weekends... boring as Hell."

"I didn't know you were that well off?" She was surprised.

"We weren't" I replied.

She looked over to Comrade Stein's table.

"Some of those people are making obscene gestures at us," she said.

"Being a Superior Being means never having to behave like a civilized person." I said. "Marxists are funny that way."

She looked over there again.

"Stein's up. He's going to the rest room," she said.

"If you will excuse me." I said as I stood up.

I removed a stainless steel ball point pen from a pocket and placed it in my left hand as if it were an unlit cigar. Comrade Stein was alone and preening himself when I entered the rest room.

"Al," I said, "we need to talk."

"Fuck off!" He replied.

I ignored it.

"You know," I said, "FU could get pretty rough on his opponents, but there one thing he never did, and that was to fuck with the ballots."

Comrade Stein's image in the mirror glared at me.

"What part of 'Fuck off' did you NOT understand?" He growled.

"Nobody steals an election in this state." I said. "JM's going to appoint a special prosecutor after the inauguration. You will be removed from that seat and Lieutenant Governor Pawlenty will appoint Norm to finish out the term. You can walk away from this and save us all the fuss and bother. All you have to do is concede."

Comrade Stein turned towards me.

"We WILL take the White House!" He snapped. "And we WILL snuff out you FASCISTS once and for all!"

He was referring to the ongoing effort of his party to lawyer their way into the White House. And of course he also referred to the well documented homicidal tendencies of the Left toward those who refuse to submit to their will.

He returned to the image in the rest room mirror.

Of course the basic difference between Comrade Stein and a proper old-school Fascist was the silly uniform. But mentioning that would do no good at this point. I consciously decided to emulate JM's late uncle, Francis Urquhart.

"You may very well think that," I said, "but what you're moving towards is a civil war, and I seriously doubt that the United States Army will obey the orders of a Chicago Marxist who has obviously stolen the election, like the Big Zero. You will lose."

Comrade Stein snarled one more time.

"You're going to a supermax!" Which was the worst type of prison in the United States. "You're going to get raped and die of AIDS you piece of shit!"

It is simply not possible to reason with someone who believes that you have no right to live.

There was one thing that could only be done at this point. I switched the pen from left hand to the right and jabbed the point into Comrade Stein's back. I clicked the stud that would normally extend the ball point for writing but which instead extended a tiny needle into his back.

I pulled the pen out and put it back into my pocket.

Comrade Stein spun around.

"What was that?!" He yelled.

"A nonpersistent neurotoxin." I replied. "It won't show up in the autopsy."

Comrade Stein tried to leave the rest room. With my right arm I stopped him and shoved him back into the wall. The toxin was already weakening him.

"Comrade Lenin once said that the ends justify the means." I spoke softly. "You didn't really believe that we would be any less ruthless?"

Comrade Stein tried to speak one more time as I held him to the wall with my right hand.

"Mother...fuck..."

I replied.

"It's not personal Al, it's politics."

Comrade Stein collapsed to the floor and ceased breathing.

It was at this point that I stepped out of the rest room and raised my voice as if I were still a sergeant in the Army.

"Al Stein just collapsed on the floor, someone call nine-one-one!"

All of Comrade Stein's dinner companions, regardless of their gender, entered the Men's rest room while I returned to my table.

Our meal for the evening had not arrived at the table yet. I gestured to our waitress and pulled out a credit card.

"Is there a problem, sir?" She said.

"Apart from the commotion, no." I said as I handed her the credit card. "Could we have the check please?"

Two of Comrade Stein's companions, one of each gender, stumbled out of the Men's rest room. The female was moaning something about Stein being dead. The male stared at me for a moment and then began to look around for something. I placed my right hand on the Glock 36 that I carried concealed in a belt holster, ready to draw on the thug. He grabbed a wine bottle off of one of the tables when two Minneapolis officers entered the restaurant.

The waitress returned to the table with the check and my credit card just as the cops were placing the agitated Marxist goon in handcuffs. I wrote in a substantial tip and then handed the pen to my dinner companion.

"Your pen madame." I said as she accepted the pen and placed it in her purse.

With that gesture the instrument of my latest homicide was placed beyond the reach of the police.

I had to give a statement to the local cops. I said that Al Stein had collapsed when I told him that he would be prosecuted for election fraud.

"Some of his people are saying that you killed him." Said one of the cops.

I replied.

"Only if 'President-March' is a killing word."

I had to explain the reference.

Stuart Smalley's Daily Affirmations for the Inner Communist

For those of you who spent the last five years in some godforsaken hellhole working to fulfill your part of the Five Year Plan the self-proclaimed comedian Al Franken is running against Norm Coleman for a seat in the United States Senate on behalf of the Democratic-Farmer-Labor Party of Minnesota. (Yes, it is as bad as it sounds.) So in order to provide Comrade Franken with an actual example of comedy I present:

Stuart Smalley's Daily Affirmations for the Inner Communist

Monday:

"I'm going to execute and expropriate today just for the heck of it because, gosh darn it, I deserve to have a good time."

Tuesday:

"I am not a fraud, a Marxist yes, but not a fraud."

Wednesday:

"I deserve all the mass adulation from the people I can get without feeling ashamed or being grandiose."

Thursday:

"I will express my feelings today. I will not hide them behind my mustache. My mustache is not a mask for my feelings, but rather a small patch of facial hair that covers my inadequacies."

Friday:

"When I rob a bank for the cause, I will not be playing those parent tapes in my head: "You wield a revolver like a girl" . . . "Why can't you be more like Stalin?" . . . "Philosophy? What kind of major is that? It's useless!"

Saturday:

"Just because I execute Christians and counter-revolutionaries does not mean I'm an mass-murdering psychopath like my father."

Sunday:

"If I must violently put down a counter-revolution today, it is not because I am a bad person or that I am not worthy of love; it is because my people are a bunch of religion-addicted capitalist sons-of-bitches--and I am mean enough, ruthless enough, and dog gone it, people fear me."
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