Liberal math


So if you’ve been living under a rock, and haven’t heard, Arizona passed a law that will allow police to actually enforce immigration laws and detain anyone believed to be an illegal alien.  Yes, I said ILLEGAL ALIEN – not undocumented worker – ILLEGAL ALIEN. (You may proceed to the next stage of the debate where you may whip out the RAAAAAAAAACISM card – just be aware, said card might be inserted into one of your orifices by force).

The governor of Arizona signed the law, and received a significant bounce in the polls for her actions, because the majority of Arizonans (64 percent), and 70 percent of Americans in general support such measures!

But somehow, our Fearless Leader still has the big, brass balls (or lack of common sense) to claim that this law is “polarizing.”

Despite the fact that the majority of the nation supports this law, as does the majority of Arizonans, he has the temerity to claim the measure is divisive.  Among whom, I wonder?  Oh… politicians.

So apparently, according to liberal math, the law is divisive, not because the majority of Americans oppose it – they don’t – but because politicians have a hard time agreeing on it.

Got it.

Aren’t they supposed to be representing We the People?

Nutbag of the Week

Comments Off on Nutbag of the Week

And the coveted award goes to…………………………

Democrat New York State Senator Kevin Parker, who demonstrated Teh Crazee(tm) by calling his Republican counterparts in Albany “white supremacists,” because one of them dared question a black nominee to the New York Power Authority about his past claim that “without programs for minorities, whites and the affluent would have access to nearly 100%” of government funding.”

Err… wut?

“How dare you!” Parker shouted, at one point referring to “you racist people in here.”

“I’ve never seen a white appointee be treated like this, in such rude fashion!” the Brooklyn Democrat yelled.

In a scene straight out of the Al Pacino movie “And Justice for All,” Parker was repeatedly ruled out order.

“You’re out of order!” he screamed back. “This committee’s out of order!”

Amid the nearly two-minute tirade, committee chairman Carl Kruger(D-Brooklyn) told Parker he would be removed from the hearing room if he didn’t settle down.

“Then get somebody to remove me,” he said. “Bring people, though.”

Parker, who’s apparently had anger management issues in the past claims this is his attempt to fight back against Da Man!  It’s his own personal, somewhat quixotic battle against “the evils of white supremacy.”

Apparently, in this new, post-racial America, white legislators are only allowed to ask non-critical questions of black nominees to any government position. They’re certainly not allowed to pose questions that might be difficult to answer or that appear critical of the nominees’ views, no matter how creepily Marxist they appear to be.

Meanwhile, in Bloomberg’s gunless utopia…


A homeless man lies dying in the street in a pool of his own blood after trying to save a woman from a knife-wielding scumbag.

And no one lifts a finger to help.

Surveillance video obtained by the New York Post shows that some passers-by paused to gawk at Hugo Alfredo Tale-Yax early Sunday morning and yet kept on walking.

One man came out of a nearby building and took a cellphone photo of the victim before leaving. Another leaned over and vigorously shook the dead man before walking away. But most people never stopped.

Firefighters arrived more than an hour and 20 minutes after Tale-Yax collapsed. By that time, the 31-year-old was dead.

Get this straight.  Practically no one in New York City has the connections to sport a gun for self defense.  Thugs know this. They know they don’t have to worry about an armed victim defending him or herself, and they take full advantage.  Fatal stabbings are on the increase, registering a 50 percent rise in 2008

Criminals can get guns, knives and anything else they want.  Bloomberg and his tyrannical predecessors have effectively painted big, red targets on the backs of city residents, punishing them for daring to defend their lives and livelihoods against armed attackers, infringing on their right to defend their lives, and attempting to violate the rights of the rest of us by claiming that New York’s problems require the rest of us to submit.

Yes, New York has problems. It has an apathetic, complacent populace that elects petty fascists and allows them to transform the city into their own fiefdom. It has a populace that has long stopped caring about its life.  It has a populace that has come to love big government and the infringements with which it invariably comes. 

And when people stop caring about their own lives and their own ability to protect themselves, why should they care about a guy lying in a pool of his own blood on the street?  Why should they help someone who has actually attempted to step up to the plate and protect a disarmed woman against an armed thug? 

After all he loved life enough to try, and they obviously can’t have that in the Big Apple.  Best just let him die.

Heartless, worthless worms. 

When their city dissolves into a pit of violent aggression, and most of them are too chicken to stand up to the thugs, while their government petulantly pouts that they can’t do anything, and how it’s the fault of the rest of us who fight to preserve our Second Amendment rights, that their city has descended into a crime-ridden hell, I hope the rest of America tells them to get bent.


1 Comment

My friend Jeff sent me this piece, reprinted on the blog of a New Zealander, currently living in Belgium.  Let’s ignore, for now, the fact that she implies that the Patriots Day Second Amendment demonstrations in Washington, DC recently to incendiary, violent, hateful and filled with rhetoric.

Let’s ignore, for now, that protests against government actions are the right and responsibility of a free people.

Let’s ignore, even, that the recent protests meant to assert our fundamental rights were peaceable and organized.

Let’s focus, for a minute, on the essay’s vapid attempt to assert the existence of a “white privilege” which allows anyone and everyone who is white to threaten others, engage in violent and incendiary rhetoric, and to be viewed as patriotic, instead of extremist and pathetic. 

Let’s imagine.

Imagine that hundreds of black protesters were to descend upon Washington DC and Northern Virginia,just a few miles from the Capitol and White House, armed with AK-47s,assorted handguns, and ammunition. And imagine that some of these protesters–the black protesters–spoke of the need for political revolution, and possibly even armed conflict in the event that laws they didn’t like were enforced by the government. Would these protesters–these black protesters with guns–be seen as brave defenders of the Second Amendment, or would they be viewed by most whites as a danger to the republic? What if they were Arab-Americans? Because, after all, that’s what happened recently when white gun enthusiasts descended upon the nation’s capital, arms in hand, and verbally announced their readiness to make war on the country’s political leaders if the need arose.

Now, imagine hundreds of thousands of black men descending upon Washington DC , demanding that “their” issues be placed on the national agenda – issues based on nothing but race – led by a radical orator and proven hater of Jews, who has openly and vocally displayed his hatred, calling Judaism a “gutter religion ,” accused the government of manufacturing the H1N1 flu vaccine in order to depopulate the earth, and another radical leader who specializes in race baiting and blackmail.

What if these same men were white men, demanding white issues were put on the national agenda – an agenda based on nothing but the needs of the white race?  What if these same men were led by a proven anti-Semite, KKK leader and all-around racist?  Would he be condemned?  Considering how quickly Republicans kicked David Duke to the curb – much quicker than Barack Obama disavowed the hateful rhetoric of Jeremiah Wright, I think!

Imagine that white members of Congress, while walking to work, were surrounded by thousands of angry black people, one of whom proceeded to spit on one of those congressmen for not voting the way the black demonstrators desired. Would the protesters be seen as merely patriotic Americans voicing their opinions,or as an angry, potentially violent, and even insurrectionary mob?After all, this is what white Tea Party protesters did recently in Washington.

Let’s ignore for a moment that there’s still doubt that there was any kind of spitting.  I did see the video, and there was a guy who was yelling at one of the Congressman who walked past him, and it looked like he unintentionally frothed at him.  But besides that…

Imagine that two members of a radical, racist New Black Panther Party stood outside a polling place in Philadelphia , intimidated voters, and screamed racial epithets. Imagine that the intimidation was so obvious, that a respected member of the Civil Rights movement testified that they definitely violated the Voting Rights Act.

To support its evidence, the government had secured an affidavit from Bartle Bull, a longtime civil rights activist and former aide to Sen.Robert F. Kennedy’s 1968 presidential campaign. Mr. Bull said in asworn statement dated April 7 that he was serving in November as a credentialed poll watcher in Philadelphia when he saw the three uniformed Panthers confront and intimidate voters with a nightstick.

Hmmmm.  If this were a few white guys doing the same thing, would the government have dropped the charges against them?  Can you imagine the kind of uproar that would arise if charges were dropped against two obviously racist white guys intimidating voters with night sticks?

Imagine that a rap artist were to say,in reference to a white president: “He’s a piece of shit and I told himto suck on my machine gun.” Because that’s what rocker Ted Nugent said recently about President Obama.

Now imagine a student stating clearly in an essay that he would like to shoot President Bush, because he would be known as a national hero.  Or imagine an artist creating an art exhibit portraying an image of George W. Bush with a gun to his head.

Imagine that a prominent mainstream black political commentator had long employed an overt bigot as Executive Director of his organization, and that this bigot regularly participated in black separatist conferences, and once assaulted a white person while calling them by a racial slur. When that prominent black commentator and his sister–who also works for the organization–defended the bigot as a good guy who was misunderstood and“going through a tough time in his life” would anyone accept their excuse-making? Would that commentator still have a place on a mainstream network? Because that’s what happened in the real world, when Pat Buchanan employed as Executive Director of his group, America’s Cause, a blatant racist who did all these things, or at least their white equivalents: attending white separatist conferences and attacking a black woman while calling her the n-word.

Now imagine the President of the United States appointing a radical African American Marxist as a member of his administration – a Marxist who advocated for cop killer Mumia Abu Jamal.  A Marxist who accused a former President of the United States of being a “crackhead.”  Imagine the President of the United States attending a church, where the pastor continuously blasted America and showed his hatred by blasting Jews, and then claiming that somehow, in 20 years, he wasn’t aware of Jeremiah Wright’s political leanings and statements.  Somehow, America accepted that excuse and voted this particular President into office anyway.

Imagine that a black radio host were to suggest that the only way to get promoted in the administration of a white president is by “hating black people,” or that a prominent white person had only endorsed a white presidential candidate as an act of racial bonding, or blamed a white president for a fight on a school bus in which a black kid was jumped by two white kids, or said that he wouldn’t want to kill all conservatives, but rather, would like to leave just enough–“living fossils” as he called them–“so we will never forget what these people stood for.” After all, these are things that Rush Limbaugh has said, about Barack Obama’s administration, Colin Powell’s endorsement of Barack Obama, a fight on a school bus in Belleville, Illinois in which two black kids beat up a white kid, and about liberals, generally.

Now imagine a slew of celebrities calling a sitting President a fascist, a brownshirt, accusing him of manufacturing the largest terrorist attack on US soil in history,

“I not only think that they (U.S. leaders) are misguided, but I think they know exactly what they are doing and I think that they are men who are possessed of evil.” — Harry Belafonte

“The real terrorist threats are George W. Bush and his band of brown-shirted thugs.” — Sandra Bernhard

“Yes, (Bush is a) racist. We all knew that but the world is only finding it out now. As Texas’s governor, Bush led a penitentiary system that executed more people than all the other U.S. states together. And most of the people who died from (the) death penalty were Afro-Americans or Hispanics. (Bush) promoted a Conservative program, designed to eliminate everything Americans had accomplished so far in matters of race and equality.” — Danny Glover

“Too many people are being bowled over by Bush and Tony Blair in Britain. It’s ludicrous to expect the whole world to follow what they want. America doesn’t have the moral right to tell other people what to do. To say the whole world has to fall into line is you-know-what. I hope more people will rise up.” — Spike Lee

Get it yet?

Imagine that a black pastor, formerly a member of the U.S. military, were to declare, as part of his opposition to a white president’s policies, that he was ready to “suit up, get my gun, go to Washington, and do what they trained me to do.” This is,after all, what Pastor Stan Craig said recently at a Tea Party rally in Greenville, South Carolina.

Two words: Jeremiah Wright.  One quote: “And the United States of America government, when it came to treating her citizens of Indian descent fairly, she failed. She put them on reservations. When it came to treating her citizens of Japanese descent fairly, she failed. She put them in internment prison camps. When it came to treating her citizens of African descent fairly, America failed.She put them in chains, the government put them on slave quarters, put them on auction blocks, put them in cotton field, put them in inferior schools, put them in substandard housing, put them in scientific experiments, put them in the lowest paying jobs, put them outside the equal protection of the law, kept them out of their racist bastions of higher education and locked them into positions of hopelessness and helplessness. The government gives them the drugs, builds bigger prisons, passes a three-strike law and then wants us to sing ‘God Bless America.’ No, no, no, not God Bless America. God damn America — that’s in the Bible — for killing innocent people. God damn America, for treating our citizens as less than human. God damn America, as long as she tries to act like she is God, and she is supreme. The United States government has failed the vast majority of her citizens of African descent.

Imagine a black radio talk show host gleefully predicting a revolution by people of color if the government continues to be dominated by the rich white men who have been“destroying” the country, or if said radio personality were to call Christians or Jews non-humans, or say that when it came to conservatives, the best solution would be to “hang ‘em high.” And what would happen to any congressional representative who praised that commentator for “speaking common sense” and likened his hate talk to“American values?” After all, those are among the things said by radio host and best-selling author Michael Savage, predicting white revolution in the face of multiculturalism, or said by Savage about Muslims and liberals, respectively. And it was Congressman Culbertson, from Texas,who praised Savage in that way, despite his hateful rhetoric.

Imagine a black columnist and university professor who perpetually advocates citizen disarmament by force who essentially condemns the concept of a “United” States, while pushing the agenda of “Black America?”  How about an Attorney General who calls us a nation too cowardly to talk about race, while his boss cavorts with overt racists, such as Jeremiah Wright and Charles Ogletree, while appointing a woman to the Supreme Court who thinks her Latina wisdom makes her much more capable of reaching the right conclusion than a white male?

Imagine a black political commentator suggesting that the only thing the guy who flew his plane into the Austin, Texas IRS building did wrong was not blowing up Fox News instead. This is, after all, what Anne Coulter said about Tim McVeigh,when she noted that his only mistake was not blowing up the New York Times.

Imagine news outlets comparing psycho anti-government lunatic Joe Stack to TEA party protesters.

Imagine that a popular black liberal website posted comments about the daughter of a white president, calling her “typical redneck trash,” or a “whore” whose mother entertains her by “making monkey sounds.” After all that’s comparable to what conservatives posted about Malia Obama on free last year,when they referred to her as “ghetto trash.”

Imagine a popular liberal website calling the daughter of a white president a slut.  Imagine doing a Google Search on Jenna Bush and finding about 35,000 hits with the keywords “Jenna Bush” and “slut.”

Imagine that black protesters at a large political rally were walking around with signs calling for the lynching of their congressional enemies. Because that’s what white conservatives did last year, in reference to Democratic party leaders in Congress.

Imagine black demonstrators at a celebration saying the following to police officers:

“White bitches. F— McCain. You white police can’t do nothing,”19-year-old Celita Hart taunted officers as she stood with a throng of Obama supporters in the 6900 block of South Western Avenue, Assistant State’s Attorney Lorraine Scaduto said in a court Wednesday. At some point, authorities said, Hart left the crowd, which had been chanting “Obama, Obama,” walked up to a squad car, and smacked a male officer in the face.

Yeah, all that white privilege…

The bottom line is that the fear of being called a racist is so deep and ingrained in this nation, that we’re willing to ignore blatant racism as long as it’s perpetuated by members of the “Victim of the Month” Club against the “oppressors.”

And by the way… as for the Second Amendment demonstrations and TEA party protests – compared to the “anti-war” protests in St. Paul a couple of years ago, where buildings were vandalized and a police car was set on fire…  Compared to the violent threats issued against George W. Bush during protests throughout his presidency… Considering the group of pro-illegal alien scum who attacked police officers in Arizona just a few days ago…

…I would submit that it’s not the (largely Caucasian) Second Amendment and TEA party demonstrations that have turned violent in recent years, but the largely liberal (and minority-dominated) protests that have gone largely ignored by the mainstream media and smoothed over by both politicians and political appointees in an effort to appear “progressive” and tolerant.

Keeping up with the Daveys

Comments Off on Keeping up with the Daveys

In the spirit of the festering, oozing ass sores on the anus of Britain Peter and Claire Prick and Cunt Davey, I welcome you to the United Communist States of America.

h/t: Theo Spark

Ummm… yeah… about those jobs


Lies, lies and more lies, courtesy of the White House.

The number of jobs in the U.S. is currently 129.7 million.  So to justify the Administration’s current claim of 2.8 million jobs “created or saved” by stimulus, they need to also claim that without that stimulus there would be only 126.9 million jobs. 

There’s only one problem.  That’s not what the Obama Administration claimed just a year ago.  Just a year ago, the Magic Marxist and crew claimed that without their stimulus there would be 133.9 million jobs.  Wait! Where did that 7 million jobs go?

It’s not like we’re not used to this lying administration and their hideous fuzzy math!

Here’s the math:

Step 1: How many jobs does the Administration currently claim there would be, without stimulus?

129.7 million Current number of U.S. jobs

–  2.8 million Jobs currently claimed to be “created or saved”

126.9 million Jobs the Administration currently claims there would be without stimulus

Step 2: How does that compare with the number of jobs the Administration used to say there would be without stimulus?

133.9 million January 2009 projection of jobs without stimulus

126.9 million Current claim of jobs without stimulus

= 7 million Jobs removed from the Administration “baseline” to justify their latest stimulus job creation claims


No, that’s not in their vocabulary.

Parasitic Twat


If there’s any justice in this world, this cunt‘s uterus will fall to the floor with a squelchy sound before spontaneously combusting and setting her on fire and taking her and her parasitic husband to hell.

The Davey family’s £815-a-week state handouts pay for a four-bedroom home, top-of-the-range mod cons and two vehicles including a Mercedes people carrier.

Father-of-seven Peter gave up work because he could make more living on benefits.

Yet he and his wife Claire are still not happy with their lot.

With an eighth child on the way, they are demanding a bigger house, courtesy of the taxpayer.

At some point someone has to say, “enough is enough.” 

At some point, someone ought to take a rusty chainsaw to Peter Davey’s gonads, slap a Band-Aid to what is left and force him to go back to work to pay off the millions he and his parasitic sow sperm catcher have already bilked out of hard working people!

Not only do these festering swine (no offense to pigs everywhere, who at least have a benefit of providing delicious bacon to those of us who aren’t afraid of cloven hooves), receive their home and vehicles for free, but they also get health care and education at the taxpayers’ expense.  No wonder Britain is running a record projected 13 percent budget deficit this year!  No wonder some Brits are now paying more than half of their income to the state!  It’s to feed, clothe and sustain this fat cunt, her crotchfruit and her indolent, sperm-squirting cockbag of a husband! 

And they have the gall to complain!

‘It’s really hard,’ said Mrs Davey, 29, who is seven months pregnant. ‘We can’t afford holidays and I don’t want my kids living on a council estate and struggling like I have.

‘The price of living is going up but benefits are going down.My carer’s allowance is only going up by 80p this year and petrol is so expensive now, I’m worried how we’ll cope.

If there was any justice in this universe, you’d “cope” by having some outraged taxpayer crazy glue your twat shut!

But no, there will be no outrage, because when you breed a socialist welfare state, you will always have looting swine who will abuse it.

I remind you of the practical reality preached by the vermin in DC, as told by a minor character in Atlas Shrugged – a story about the Twentieth Century Motor Company (thanks to Blue Collar Muse for reproducing this story in its entirety):

“Well, there was something that happened at that plant where I worked for twenty years. It was when the old man died and his heirs took over. There were three of them, two sons and a daughter, and they brought a new plan to run the factory. They let us vote on it, too, and everybody almost everybody voted for it. We didn’t know. We thought it was good. No, that’s not true, either. We thought that we were supposed to think it was good. The plan was that everybody in the factory would work according to his ability, but would be paid according to his need.

“We voted for that plan at a big meeting, with all of us present,six thousand of us, everybody that worked in the factory. The Starnes heirs made long speeches about it, and it wasn’t too clear, but nobody asked any questions. None of us knew just how the plan would work, but every one of us thought that the next fellow knew it. And if anybody had doubts, he felt guilty and kept his mouth shut because they made it sound like anyone who’d oppose the plan was a child-killer at heart and less than a human being. They told us that this plan would achieve a noble ideal. Well, how were we to know otherwise? Hadn’t we heard it all our lives from our parents and our schoolteachers and our ministers, and in every newspaper we ever read and every movie and every public speech? Hadn’t we always been told that this was righteous and just? Well, maybe there’s some excuse for what we did at that meeting. Still, we voted for the plan and what we got, we had it coming to us. You know, ma’am, we are marked men, in a way, those of us who lived through the four years of that plan in the Twentieth Century factory. What is it that hell is supposed to be? Evil plain, naked,smirking evil, isn’t it? Well, that’s what we saw and helped to make and I think we’re damned, every one of us, and maybe we’ll never be forgiven …

“Do you know how it worked, that plan, and what it did to people?Try pouring water into a tank where there’s a pipe at the bottom draining it out faster than you pour it, and each bucket you bring breaks that pipe an inch wider, and the harder you work the more is demanded of you, and you stand slinging buckets forty hours a week, then forty-eight, then fifty-six for your neighbor’s supper for his wife’s operation for his child’s measles for his mother’s wheelchair for his uncle’s shirt for his nephew’s schooling for the baby next door for the baby to be born for anyone anywhere around you it’s theirs to receive, from diapers to dentures and yours to work, from sunup to sundown, month after month, year after year, with nothing to show for it but your sweat, with nothing in sight for you but their pleasure, for the whole of your life, without rest, without hope, without end … From each according to his ability, to each according to his need …

We’re all one big family, they told us, we’re all in this together.  But you don’t all stand working an acetylene torch ten hours a day together, and you don’t all get a bellyache together. What’s whose ability and which of whose needs comes first? When it’s all one pot,you can’t let any man decide what his own needs are, can you? If you did, he might claim that he needs a yacht and if his feelings are all you have to go by, he might prove it, too. Why not? If it’s not right for me to own a car until I’ve worked myself into a hospital ward,earning a car for every loafer and every naked savage on earth why can’t he demand a yacht from me, too, if I still have the ability not to have collapsed? No? He can’t? Then why can he demand that I go without cream for my coffee until he’s replastered his living room? …Oh well …

Well, anyway, it was decided that nobody had the right to judge his own need or ability. We voted on it. Yes, ma’am, we voted on it in a public meeting twice a year. How else could it be done? Do you care to think what would happen at such a meeting? It took us just one meeting to discover that we had become beggars rotten,whining, sniveling beggars, all of us, because no man could claim his pay as his rightful earning, he had no rights and no earnings, his work didn’t belong to him, it belonged to ‘the family’, and they owed him nothing in return, and the only claim he had on them was his ‘need’ so he had to beg in public for relief from his needs, like any lousy moocher, listing all his troubles and miseries, down to his patched drawers and his wife’s head colds, hoping that ‘the family’ would throw him the alms. He had to claim miseries, because it’s miseries, notwork, that had become the coin of the realm so it turned into a contest between six thousand panhandlers, each claiming that his need was worse than his brother’s. How else could it be done? Do you care to guess what happened, what sort of men kept quiet, feeling shame, and what sort got away with the jackpot?

“But that wasn’t all. There was something else that we discovered at the same meeting. The factory’s production had fallen by forty percent,in that first half year, so it was decided that somebody hadn’t delivered ‘according to his ability.’ Who? How would you tell it? ‘The family’ voted on that, too. We voted which men were the best, and these men were sentenced to work overtime each night for the next six months.Overtime without pay because you weren’t paid by time and you weren’t paid by work, only by need.

“Do I have to tell you what happened after that and into what sort of creatures we all started turning, we who had once been humans? We began to hide whatever ability we had, to slow down and watch like hawks that we never worked any faster or better than the next fellow.What else could we do, when we knew that if we did our best for ‘the family,’ it’s not thanks or rewards that we’d get, but punishment? We knew that for every stinker who’d ruin a batch of motors and cost the company money either through his sloppiness, because he didn’t have to care, or through plain incompetence it’s we who’d have to pay with our nights and our Sundays. So we did our best to be no good.

“There was one young boy who started out, full of fire for the noble ideal, a bright kid without any schooling, but with a wonderful head on his shoulders. The first year, he figured out a work process that saved us thousands of man-hours. He gave it to ‘the family,’ didn’t ask anything for it, either, couldn’t ask, but that was all right with him.It was for the ideal, he said. But when he found himself voted as one of our ablest and sentenced to night work, because we hadn’t gotten enough from him, he shut his mouth and his brain. You can bet he didn’t come up with any ideas, the second year.

“What was it they’d always told us about the vicious competition of the profit system, where men had to compete for who’d do a better job than his fellows? Vicious, wasn’t it? Well, they should have seen what it was like when we all had to compete with one another for who’d do the worst job possible. There’s no surer way to destroy a man than to force him into a spot where he has to aim at not doing his best, where he has to struggle to do a bad job, day after day. That will finish him quicker than drink or idleness or pulling stick-ups fora living. But there was nothing else for us to do except to fake unfitness. The one accusation we feared was to be suspected of ability.  Ability was like a mortgage on you that you could never pay off. And what was there to work for? You knew that your basic pittance would be given to you anyway, whether you worked or not your ‘housing and feeding allowance,’ it was called and above that pittance, you had no chance to get anything, no matter how hard you tried. You couldn’t count on buying a new suit of clothes next year they might give you a‘clothing allowance’ or they might not, according to whether nobody broke a leg, needed an operation or gave birth to more babies. And if there wasn’t enough money for new suits for everybody, then you couldn’t get yours, either.

“There was one man who’d worked hard all his life, because he’d always wanted to send his son through college. Well, the boy graduated from high school in the second year of the plan but ‘the family’ wouldn’t give the father any ‘allowance’ for the college. They said his son couldn’t go to college, until we had enough to send everybody’s sons to college and that we first had to send everybody’s children through high school, and we didn’t even have enough for that. The father died the following year, in a knife fight with somebody in a saloon, a fight over nothing in particular such fights were beginning to happen among us all the time.

“Then there was an old guy, a widower with no family, who had one hobby: phonograph records. I guess that was all he ever got out of life. In the old days, he used to skip lunch just to buy himself some new recording of classical music. Well, they didn’t give him any‘allowance’ for records ‘personal luxury’ they called it. But at the same meeting, Millie Bush, somebody’s daughter, a mean, ugly little eight year old, was voted a pair of gold braces for her buck teeth this was ‘medical need’ because the staff psychologist had said that the poor girl would get an inferiority complex if her teeth weren’t straightened out. The old guy who loved music, turned to drink, instead. He got so you never saw him fully conscious any more. But it seems like there was one thing he couldn’t forget. One night, he came staggering down the street, saw Millie Bush, swung his fist and knocked all her teeth out. Every one of them.

“Drink, of course, was what we all turned to, some more, some less.Don’t ask how we got the money for it. When all the decent pleasures are forbidden, there’s always ways to get the rotten ones. You don’t break into grocery stores after dark and you don’t pick your fellow’s pockets to buy classical symphonies or fishing tackle, but if it’s to get stinking drunk and forget you do. Fishing tackle? Hunting guns?Snapshot cameras? Hobbies? There wasn’t any ‘amusement allowance’ for anybody. ‘Amusement’ was the first thing they dropped. Aren’t you supposed to be ashamed to object when anybody asks you to give up anything, if it’s something that gave you pleasure? Even our ‘tobacco allowance’ was cut to where we got two packs of cigarettes a month and this, they told us, was because the money had to go into the babies’ milk fund. Babies was the only item of production that didn’t fall, but rose and kept on rising because people had nothing else to do, I guess, and because they didn’t have to care, the baby wasn’t their burden, it was ‘the family’s.’ In fact, the best chance you had of getting a raise and breathing easier for a while was a ‘baby allowance.’ Either that or a major disease.

“It didn’t take us long to see how it all worked out. Any man who tried to play straight, had to refuse himself everything. He lost his taste for any pleasure, he hated to smoke a nickel’s worth of tobacco or chew a stick of gum, worrying whether somebody had more need for that nickel. He felt ashamed of every mouthful of food he swallowed,wondering whose weary nights of overtime had paid for it, knowing that his food was not his by right, miserably wishing to be cheated rather than to cheat, to be a sucker, but not a blood-sucker. He wouldn’t marry, he wouldn’t help his folks back home, he wouldn’t put an extra burden on ‘the family.’ Besides, if he still had some sort of sense of responsibility, he couldn’t marry or bring children into the world,when he could plan nothing, promise nothing, count on nothing. But the shiftless and irresponsible had a field day of it. They bred babies,they got girls into trouble, they dragged in every worthless relative they had from all over the country, every unmarried pregnant sister,for an extra ‘disability allowance,’ they got more sicknesses than any doctor could disprove, they ruined their clothing, their furniture, their homes what the hell, ‘the family’ was paying for it! They found more ways of getting in ‘need’ than the rest of us could ever imagine they developed a special skill for it, which was the only ability they showed.

“God help us, ma’am! Do you see what we saw? We saw that we’d been given a law to live by, a moral law, they called it, which punished those who observed it for observing it. The more you tried to live up to it, the more you suffered; the more you cheated it, the bigger reward you got. Your honesty was like a tool left at the mercy of the next man’s dishonesty.The honest ones paid, the dishonest collected. The honest lost, the dishonest won. How long could men stay good under this sort of a law of goodness? We were a pretty decent bunch of fellows when we started.  There weren’t many chiselers among us. We knew our jobs and we were proud of it and we worked for the best factory in the country, where old man Starnes hired nothing but the pick of the country’s labor.Within one year under the new plan, there wasn’t an honest man left among us. That was the evil, the sort of hell-horror evil that preachers used to scare you with, but you never thought to see alive. Not that the plan encouraged a few bastards, but that it turned decent people into bastards, and there was nothing else that it could do and it was called a moral ideal!

“What was it we were supposed to work for? For the love of our brothers? What brothers? For the bums, the loafers, the moochers we saw all around us? And whether they were cheating or plain incompetent,whether they were unwilling or unable what difference did that make to us? If we were tied for life to the level of their unfitness, faked or real, how long could we care to go on? We had no way of knowing their ability, we had no way of controlling their needs all we knew was that we were beasts of burden struggling blindly in some sort of place that was half-hospital, half-stockyards a place geared to nothing but disability, disaster, disease beasts put there for the relief of whatever whoever chose to say was whichever’s need.

“Love of our brothers? That’s when we learned to hate our brothers for the first time in our lives. We began to hate them for every meal they swallowed, for every small pleasure they enjoyed, for one man’s new shirt, for another’s wife’s hat, for an outing with their family,for a paint job on their house it was taken from us, it was paid for by our privations, our denials, our hunger. We began to spy on one another, each hoping to catch the others lying about their needs, so as to cut their ‘allowance’ at the next meeting. We began to have stool pigeons who informed on people, who reported that somebody had bootlegged a turkey to his family on some Sunday which he’d paid for by gambling, most likely. We began to meddle into one another’s lives.We provoked family quarrels, to get somebody’s relatives thrown out.Any time we saw a man starting to go steady with a girl, we made life miserable for him. We broke up many engagements. We didn’t want anyone to marry, we didn’t want any more dependents to feed.

“In the old days, we used to celebrate if somebody had a baby, we used to chip in and help him out with the hospital bills, if he happened to be hard-pressed for the moment. Now, if a baby was born, we didn’t speak to the parents for weeks. Babies, to us, had become what locusts were to farmers. In the old days, we used to help a man out if he had a bad illness in the family. Now well, I’ll tell you about just one case. It was the mother of a man who had been with us for fifteen years. She was a kindly old lady, cheerful and wise, she knew us all by our first names and we all liked her we used to like her.One day, she slipped on the cellar stairs and fell and broke her hip.We knew what that meant at her age. The staff doctor said that she’d have to be sent to a hospital in town, for expensive treatments that would take a long time. The old lady died the night before she was to leave for town. They never established the cause of death. No, I don’t know whether she was murdered. Nobody said that. Nobody would talk about it at all. All I know is that I and that’s what I can’t forget! I, too, had caught myself wishing that she would die. This may God forgive us! was the brotherhood, the security, the abundance that the plan was supposed to achieve for us!

“Was there any reason why this sort of horror would ever be preached by anybody? Was there anybody who got any profit from it? There was.The Starnes heirs. I hope you’re not going to remind me that they’d sacrificed a fortune and turned the factory over to us as a gift. We were fooled by that one, too. Yes, they gave up the factory. But profit, ma’am, depends on what it is that you’re after. And what the Starnes heirs were after, no money on earth could buy. Money is too clean and innocent for that.

“Eric Starnes, the youngest he was a jellyfish that didn’t have the guts to be after anything in particular. He got himself voted as the Director of our Public Relations Department, which didn’t do anything, except that he had a staff for the not doing of anything, so he didn’t have to bother sticking around the office. The pay he got well, I shouldn’t call it ‘pay,’ none of us was ‘paid’ the alms voted to him was fairly modest, about ten times what I got, but that wasn’t riches, Eric didn’t care for money he wouldn’t have known what to do with it. He spent his time hanging around among us, showing how chummy he was and democratic. He wanted to be loved, it seems. The way he went about it was to keep reminding us that he had given us the factory. We couldn’t stand him.

“Gerald Starnes was our Director of Production. We never learned just what the size of his rake-off his alms had been. It would have taken a staff of accountants to figure that out, and a staff of engineers to trace the way it was piped, directly or indirectly, into his office. None of it was supposed to be for him it was all for company expenses. Gerald had three cars, four secretaries, five telephones, and he used to throw champagne and caviar parties that no tax-paying tycoon in the country could have afforded. He spent more money in one year than his father had earned in profits in the last two years of his life. We saw a hundred pound stack a hundred pounds, we weighed them of magazines in Gerald’s office, full of stories about our factory and our noble plan, with big pictures of Gerald Starnes,calling him a great social crusader. Gerald liked to come into the shops at night, dressed in his formal clothes, flashing diamond cufflinks the size of a nickel and shaking cigar ashes all over. Any cheap show-off who’s got nothing to parade but his cash, is bad enough except that he makes no bones about the cash being his, and you’re free to gape at him or not, as you wish, and mostly you don’t. But when a bastard like Gerald Starnes puts on an act and keeps spouting that he doesn’t care for material wealth, that he’s only serving ‘the family,’that all the lushness is not for himself, but for our sake and for the common good, because it’s necessary to keep up the prestige of the company and of the noble plan in the eyes of the public then that’s when you learn to hate the creature as you’ve never hated anything human.

“But his sister Ivy was worse. She really did not care for material wealth. The alms she got was no bigger than ours, and she went about in scuffed, flat-heeled shoes and shirtwaists just to show how selfless she was. She was our Director of Distribution. She was the lady in charge of our needs. She was the one who held us by the throat. Of course, distribution was supposed to be decided by voting by the voice of the people. But when the people are six thousand howling voices, trying to decide without yardstick, rhyme or reason, when there are no rules to the game and each can demand anything, but has a right to nothing, when everybody holds power over everybody’s life except his own then it turns out, as it did, that the voice of the people is Ivy Starnes. By the end of the second year, we dropped the pretense of the‘family meetings’ in the name of ‘production efficiency and time economy,’ one meeting used to take ten days and all the petitions of need were simply sent to Miss Starnes’ office. No, not sent. They had to be recited to her in person by every petitioner. Then she made up a distribution list, which she read to us for our vote of approval at a meeting that lasted three-quarters of an hour. We voted approval. There was a ten-minute period on the agenda for discussion and objections. We made no objections. We knew better by that time. Nobody can divide a factory’s income among thousands of people, without some sort of a gauge to measure people’s value. Her gauge was bootlicking. Selfless?In her father’s time, all of his money wouldn’t have given him a chance to speak to his lousiest wiper and get away with it, as she spoke to our best skilled workers and their wives. She had pale eyes that looked fishy, cold and dead. And if you ever want to see pure evil, you should have seen the way her eyes glinted when she watched some man who’d talked back to her once and who’d just heard his name on the list of those getting nothing above basic pittance. And when you saw it, you saw the real motive of any person who’s ever preached the slogan: ‘From each according to his ability, to each according to his need.’

“This was the whole secret of it. At first, I kept wondering how it could be possible that the educated, the cultured, the famous men of the world could make a mistake of this size and preach, as righteousness, this sort of abomination when five minutes of thought should have told them what would happen if somebody tried to practice what they preached. Now I know they didn’t do it by any kind of mistake. Mistakes of this size are never made innocently. If men fall for some vicious piece of insanity, when they have no way to make it work and no possible reason to explain their choice it’s because they have a reason that they do not wish to tell. And we weren’t so innocent, either, when we voted for that plan at the end of the first meeting. We didn’t do it just because we believed that the drippy, old guff they spewed was good. We had another reason, but the guff helped us to hide it from our neighbors and from ourselves. The guff gave us a chance to pass off as virtue something that we’d be ashamed to admit otherwise. There wasn’t a man voting for it who didn’t think that under a setup of this kind he’d muscle in on the profits of the men abler than himself. There wasn’t a man rich and smart enough but that he didn’t think that somebody was richer and smarter, and this plan would give him a share of his better’s wealth and brain. But while he was thinking that he’d get unearned benefits from the men above, he forgot about the men below who’d get unearned benefits, too. He forgot about all his inferiors who’d rush to drain him just as he hoped to drain his superiors. The worker who liked the idea that his need entitled him toa limousine like his boss’s, forgot that every bum and beggar on earth would come howling that their need entitled them to an icebox like his own. That was our real motive when we voted that was the truth of it but wedidn’t like to think it, so the less we liked it, the louder we yelled about our love for the common good.

“Well, we got what we asked for. By the time we saw what it was that we’d asked for, it was too late. We were trapped, with no place to go.The best men among us left the factory in the first week of the plan.We lost our best engineers, superintendents, foremen and highest-skilled workers. A man of self-respect doesn’t turn into a milch cow for anybody. Some able fellows tried to stick it out, but they couldn’t take it for long. We kept losing our men, they kept escaping from the factory like from a pesthole till we had nothing left except the men of need, but none of the men of ability.

“And the few of us who were still any good, but stayed on, were only those who had been there too long. In the old days, nobody ever quit the Twentieth Century and, somehow, we couldn’t make ourselves believe it was gone. After a while, we couldn’t quit, because no other employer would have us for which I can’t blame him. Nobody would deal with us in any way, no respectable person or firm. All the small shops,where we traded, started moving out of Starnesville fast till we had nothing left but saloons, gambling joints and crooks who sold us trash at gouging prices. The alms we got kept falling, but the cost of our living went up. The list of the factory’s needy kept stretching, but the list of its customers shrank. There was less and less income to divide among more and more people. In the old days, it used to be said that the Twentieth Century Motor trademark was as good as the karat mark on gold. I don’t know what it was that the Starnes heirs thought,if they thought at all, but I suppose that like all social planners and like savages, they thought that this trademark was a magic stamp which did the trick by some sort of voodoo power and that it would keep them rich, as it had kept their father. Well, when our customers began to see that we never delivered an order on time and never put out a motor that didn’t have something wrong with it the magic stamp began to work the other way around: people wouldn’t take a motor as a gift, ifit was marked Twentieth Century. And it came to where our only customers were men who never paid and never meant to pay their bills.But Gerald Starnes, doped by his own publicity, got huffy and went around, with an air of moral superiority, demanding that businessmen place orders with us, not because our motors were good, but because we needed the orders so badly.

“By that time a village half-wit could see what generations of professors had pretended not to notice. What good would our need do to a power plant when its generators stopped because of our defective engines? What good would it do to a man caught on an operating table when the electric light went out? What good would it do to the passengers of a plane when its motor failed in mid-air? And if they bought our product, not because of its merit, but because of our need,would that be the good, the right, the moral thing to do for the owner of that power plant, the surgeon in that hospital, the maker of that plane?

“Yet this was the moral law that the professors and leaders and thinkers had wanted to establish all over the earth. If this is what it did in a single small town where we all knew one another, do you care to think what it would do on a world scale? Do you care to imagine what it would be like, if you had to live and to work, when you’re tied to all the disasters and all the malingering of the globe? to work and whenever any men failed anywhere, it’s you who would have to make up for it. To work with no chance to rise, with your meals and your clothes and your home and your pleasure depending on any swindle, any famine, any pestilence anywhere on earth. To work with no chance for an extra ration, till the Cambodians have been fed and the Patagonians have been sent through college. To work on a blank check held by every creature born, by men whom you’ll never see, whose needs you’ll never know, whose ability or laziness or sloppiness or fraud you have no way to learn and no right to question just to work and work and work and leave it up to the Ivys and the Geralds of the world to decide whose stomach will consume the effort, the dreams and the days of your life. And this is the moral law to accept? This a moral ideal?

“Well, we tried it and we learned. Our agony took four years, from our first meeting to our last, and it ended the only way it could end:in bankruptcy. At our last meeting, Ivy Starnes was the one who tried to brazen it out. She made a short, nasty, snippy little speech in which she said that the plan had failed because the rest of the country had not accepted it, that a single community could not succeed in the midst of a selfish, greedy world and that the plan was a noble ideal,but human nature was not good enough for it. A young boy the one who had been punished for giving us a useful idea in our first year got up, as we all sat silent, and walked straight to Ivy Starnes on the platform. He said nothing. He spat in her face. That was the end of the noble plan and of the Twentieth Century.

Read this carefully and consider it well next time you hear the leeches in Washington talk about “shared sacrifice.”  What they’re talking about is bleeding you dry to feed their power and to feed the “needs” of those who will continue to vote them into power.

Consider Peter Davey and his fat, repugnant whore of a wife, who spit in the faces of the very people who make it possible for them to live like kings, while doing nothing to earn that living, except fuck like rabid hamsters, next time you cheer as the Congressvermin vote to redistribute yet more of your earnings to ungrateful swine.

The Daveys aren’t rare in the UK.  And pretty soon, they won’t be rare here either.

h/t: Misha

Older Entries

%d bloggers like this: