Tuesday, August 19, 2014

A Done Deal?

Paul Harvey issued this chillingly cryptic admonition the year I was born:

"April 3, 1965: If I Were The Devil.

If I were the Devil . . . I mean, if I were the Prince of Darkness, I would of course, want to engulf the whole earth in darkness.
I would have a third of its real estate and four-fifths of its population, but I would not be happy until I had seized the ripest apple on the tree, so I should set about however necessary to take over the United States.
I would begin with a campaign of whispers: With the wisdom of a serpent, I would whisper to you as I whispered to Eve: “Do as you please.” “Do as you please.”   To the young, I would whisper, “The Bible is a myth.” I would convince them that man created God instead of the other way around.
I would confide that what is bad is good, and what is good is “square”. 
In the ears of the young marrieds, I would whisper that work is debasing, that cocktail parties are good for you. I would caution them not to be "extreme" in religion, in patriotism, in moral conduct.
And the old, I would teach to pray. I would teach them to say after me: “Our Father, which art in Washington” . . .
If I were the devil, I’d educate authors in how to make lurid literature exciting so that anything else would appear dull an uninteresting.
I’d threaten T.V. with dirtier movies and vice versa. And then, if I were the devil, I’d get organized.
I’d infiltrate unions and urge more loafing and less work, because idle hands usually work for me.
I’d peddle narcotics to whom I could. I’d sell alcohol to ladies and gentlemen of distinction. And I’d tranquilize the rest with pills.
If I were the devil, I would encourage schools to refine young intellects but neglect to discipline emotions . . . let those run wild.
I would designate an atheist to front for me before the highest courts in the land and I would get preachers to say “she’s right.”
With flattery and promises of power, I could get the courts to rule what I construe as against God and in favor of pornography, and  thus, I would evict God from the courthouse, and then from the school house, and then from the houses of Congress and then, in His own churches I would substitute psychology for religion, and I would deify science because that way men would become smart enough to create super weapons but not wise enough to control them.
If I were Satan, I’d make the symbol of Easter an egg, and the symbol of Christmas, a bottle.
If  I were the devil, I would take from those who have and I would give to those who wanted, until I had killed the incentive of the ambitious.
And then, my police state would force everybody back to work.
Then, I could separate families, putting children in uniform, women in coal mines, and objectors in slave camps. In other words, if I were Satan, I’d just keep on doing what he’s doing.

Paul Harvey, Good Day"

Pretty hard to deny...any longer.
Think about the fucking bullshit stories you were fed in highschool and college by alleged "atheists" who now openly preach Earth-bitch-worship. Consider the reality that the genocide going on for months in Gaza is now about to be inflicted on your fellow Americans in Ferguson! Serpent-seed took over the churches first, then the media and government: The Whore of Babylon in Rome, owned & operated by the Synagogue of Satan at Roth$child BanKHAZAR, is not some vague, nebulous organization that mysteriously pops into existence in the Book of Revelation, its been right under our noses for decades, but - much like the way a chain is only as strong as its weakest link - the strength of a nation is its individual citizens.
There is a more excellent way and it's time to get on it.

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Williams And Maher...

...Or, from the totally believable to the absolutely unthinkable!
It's completely understandable that some femin$tazi cunt taking almost every fucking thing he had would have driven Robin Williams to punch his own ticket, but all Galt-in-Da-Box can make of Comrade Maher dumping on them is, the footage is either Photoshopped, or ancient (made back when his sanity tank was still well above half).
I'm not meaning to make light of tragedy here, just saying these two items are a radical contrast with the shriking cat-people at the epicenter of both.

Monday, August 11, 2014

Tipson-Leykis Report

If there's anyone out there not into saving money, you might want to get your head examined!
For the benefit of the rest of US, Galt-in-Da-Box wishes to pass along the fruits of Mike Tipson's research which might be as helpful to you as they have been at this end. A key part of saving is NOT GETTING PLUNDERED, and Tom Leykis shared this link that may DEFINATELY save your ass in that regard, as untrustworthy as "sit-on-my-FaceBook" is becoming (I had to uninstall their app from my IPhone because of the hacking, viruses & trouble it was allowing). This being "money Monday" you might want to save some dough after you give The Professor a listen at 3PM Pacific/6PM Eastern at
http://www.blowmeuptom.com

Friday, August 8, 2014

Didn't Take Long

Funny isn't it...how just when you think things can't possibly get any worse, some hypocrite preacher shows up to dump on them.
Not long ago, when karma caught up with "Revereyend Freyed" Galt-in-Da-Box predicted another moron in shepherds garb would arrive pretty soon, and this fucking idiot appears to be making good time - may even place at top of the running, should the Establishment press pick up the tale. When and wherever something stupid and careless is said regarding an issue, event or tragedy, you won't have to dig too deep to find spiritualism & mysticism behind it ~ particularly the Earth-bitch-worshiping/polytheistic variety propounded by the Whore of Babylon and her harlot daughters. Our own local Bob "Thin Mints" Morris, a glittering JEWel of colossal Papist stupidity if ever there was one, got his qualifying run in 2012, and the alleged "right" shows no sign of ending its self-destructive infatuation with the Roman CULT anytime soon...No matter how many elections it costs them:
Ya just gotta take it (up the ass) by faith, especially if you're an altar boy!

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Dear Neocon "Right"

Let me see if I've got this straight:
We're closing on a $20T National DEBT like a bat out of hell,
Every time the economy gets close to climbing out of the shitter The Obammunist gives it a kick through KHAZAKHtax (erroneously called "0bamacare" by the Establishment press),
More illegals have been allowed to invade the country in the last 2 months than in the last 8 years - AND are being given special privilege above you and any other white, indegenous citizen...and all you can whine about is your entirely-fabricated "war on terror" & our alleged "lack of support" for Israel!

Really?

SERIOUSLY!?

Holy fuck, some people are stupid!!!

Saturday, August 2, 2014

Saturday Evening Repost: A Grand Adventure

Fred Reed wrote this many moons ago, but it puts the criminal negligence being shown our veterans & the putrid fruit it bares in perfect, unclouded daylight:

"
A Grand Adventure

Wisdom's Price

April 8, 2010

He grew up in the woods and rivers of the county, fishing and swimming and hunting under sprawling blue skies and driving his rattletrap car insanely and lying on the moss with his girl and watching the branches above groping the sky and marveling as the young do at the strangeness of life, and the war came in a far country. It doesn’t matter which. It was just a country.

His father, an angry man emitting the foul stench of patriotism, said his duty was to become a soldier and kill whoever it was in the far country, wherever it was. His father didn’t know or much care. It didn’t matter. Somebody would know. A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. It would be a grand adventure, an uncle said.

He enlisted. In the aching humid heat of a hot state he drew toothpaste and seven-eighty-two gear and green clothes from supply and learned to march in squares while a sergeant said Lef-rye-lef-rye-lef. He felt the sense of power and invincibility that comes of rhythmic camaraderie with thudding boots. He learned to use grenades and flamethrowers and the proper placement of a bayonet in a kidney. He learned obedience and various forms of likely suicide, but it was for his country, dulce et decorum est, and he sang fierce cadences on the march. If I die on the Russian front, bury me with a Russian cunt, lef-rye-lef-rye-lef-rye-lef. It was a grand adventure, calling to a young male’s desperation to defy existence, to cross the mountains, to see the dragon, to overcome. The colonels at Training Command had calculated this nicely.

He felt the romance and variety and absurdity that men love in the military in time of peace, and collected the stories that soldiers tell in bars. See, we was in TJ at the Blue Fox, and Murphy was getting a lap dance from this senorita with frigging water-melon tits, I mean those hangers just wouldn’t quit, and this owl flies in, some kind of freaking bird anyway, and she screams and falls on Murphy and… He felt the freedom of being away from the county, in wild bars nobody back home had ever heard of. It was the life.

Then he was on the late-night tarmac of the airfield, staging out for the remote country of which he knew nothing. Wind swirled and jet wash smelled of aviation kerosene and he was fit and hardly noticed the weight of his pack. Heavies roared in and out, taking troops. He savored a new phrase, FMF WesPac. Fleet Marine Force Western Pacific, alive with hormonal appeals of armies on the march, of foreign legions and Marcus Aurelius on the Rhine-Danube line, though he had never heard of the man, and he was part of huge events happening in the night.

On the first day in-country he went to his posting in the remote land,.in a convoy of open six-bys. The heat and strange people along the road exhilarated him and he was really, truly out of the county and he took it all in with wide eyes and the mine went off under the lead truck and the driver landed screaming by the road, his legs gone. Mines do that. Marines ran to him and said Jesus, oh Jesus. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Get a corpsman. Oh shit. Oh Jesus. The screaming stopped, that being the nature of femoral arteries.

Three  months passed. He now hated the people of the remote country,  though he still knew nothing of it. Soldiers hate. He killed some enemy soldiers and some who may have been enemy soldiers and then some he knew weren’t but who were in the wrong place after his platoon took casualties from a sniper. It didn’t affect him, not that he knew. Dead people were just dead people, so what. He hated the scuttling cockroaches anyway. Light’em up. Light’em all up. Let God sort’em out.  He had never heard of the Albigensians, but soldiers vary little.

One day the platoon approached a town and a sniper fired at them. “Light’em up” said the lieutenant, who hated the locals. Ten minutes later thirty-seven villagers were dead and the reporter who had been there got pictures of it all. They appeared around the world. The platoon didn’t know why they were being picked on. If villagers didn’t want to get shot, they shouldn’t let heavily armed insurgents come into their village. At a thousand legion halls, members said war is war, people get hurt. You gotta expect it. The press are wimps, comsymps, unrealistic idealists. We need to unleash the troops, let them win.

Officers, knowing that reporters were the most dangerous of their enemies,  said that it hadn’t happened, that the enemy had really done it, that it was an isolated incident, and that there would be an investigation. The commanding general in what interestingly was called “the theater” had presidential aspirations, and so sacrificed the lieutenant, who eventually received three months house arrest.

The soldier from the county almost made it. He was approaching PCOD, Pussy Cut-off Date, determined by the germination time of gonorrhea, when his truck hit the mine. Nothing new here. Men in agony, exposed bone, crushed lungs, and the dying crying out for the trinity of the badly wounded, mother wife, and water. This time the soldier from the county was half gutted.

It was a grand adventure, though..

On the ward where they removed a length of his intestines, he saw many things. He saw the soldier with his jaw shot away who fed through a tube in his nose. He watched a high-school girl of seventeen from Tennessee as she saw her betrothed, stone blind, his face a hideous porridge that would gag a maggot.

Johnny…Johnny..oh Johnny.

He left the hospital with a colostomy  bag and instructions never to eat anything he liked. Women do not like colostomy bags, so he had time on his hands. He read. He thought. He came to hate, to hate with a shuddering intensity that unnerved his friends, who learned not to talk about the war.  Like soldiers since before time existed, he learned that the war was not about the noble things it was supposed to be about, God and country and democracy, but about money, power, contracts, and the egos of the men who, on the principle that shit floats, always rise to the top. For the rest of his life, he would really, truly, want to kill.

He had come a long way from the county. It had been a grand adventure."

Something to think about as many American vets are homeless, sick & starved while the criminal adventurers in Washington DC make sure each & every drug thug, disease riddled "child" that backstrokes across the Rio Grande has three hots and a Hilton as long as they fucking want!

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Brown Bagging It

Say hello to an automated touchscreen order-taking machine, coming soon to McDonald's.
Galt-in-Da-Box can predict this with confidence, because lazy, ignorant fucking chuckers like this one are pricing themselves right out of a job under the brilliant, enLIEtened, "Progressive" tutelage of George Soros & SEIU ~ owner & good buddies of our vwonderFOOL unt glooorious communist President. And that machine will likely speak better English & get your order right! Looks like I'll still be carrying and cooking my own meals for quite some time to come.
Let's review and see what happened to American factories with unionization: The companies closed down or moved elsewhere, and the workers got fired as they downsized - and rightly so. Businesses exist to provide the public a service, not to give the willfully ignorant space to take up, and pay them for the privilege. Want workfare? Become a government bureaucrat! This bitch is good at little more than squirting out kids she can't afford to support without any forethought whatever, and is basically demanding that YOU pay twice what something is worth so she can keep it up. Questions for our racism-earner: How much paid time off did you take to squirt out the future-gimme-demanders & race-baiters? Did you ever consider looking for a better job? Ever ponder developing your talents and working for you, instead of someone else/a giant corporation? Do you even know the names of any of your kids' fathers? How about working some angle OTHER Than screaming WhitieBeAlwayMuhfuhhPickinAwnMe!? Get a life, dear...while you still have time.
If you do not think, you will not prosper. Emoting is NOT thinking!
A related issue is her bruz an sistaz in Detroit marching around with signs that read WATER IS A HUMAN RIGHT!!! That statement is correct, however if you want your water filtered, purified & otherwise made fit to drink, that's not gonna happen for free! Dip into your crack or meth fund and pay your fucking water bill!
The broader issue in America today - it actually has been one since 1920 - is FREELOADING: BanKHAZAR$ & CEOs with golden parachutes & platinum bonuses for shitty work & nepotism. Politicians owned by them! The colossal stupidity of importing welfare recipients through illegal migration! But before all that came those who demanded a role in elections, not because of their genius or creativity, but only because they have a vagina. And the freeloading has accelerated from that point forward. These are the same people that keep whining about how "unfaaaaaair" income inequality is, should consider that You Get Paid EXACTLY What You're Worth. ABILITY, Not need, is the rewarded criteria, and your lack of motivation or ambition is nobody's problem but your own.
Is bottom-feeding the ability we want to encourage?