Years back, I discussed how Gordon Ramsay was a Blackstone joint and why he was spun the way he was. This was before it was pseudo-analyzed as something that could never be really understood, or something, as it often is now in all this fluff online. He was a guilty pleasure then and now, and truthfully I respect his screen presence; his reactions when not blown out of proportion or staged for a bit are indicative of lots of hard work and perseverance. Authentic. To run a kitchen successfully, efficiently and to find the harmony in doing so – why you fucking had the idea in the first place – requires a lot of straight up dickishness, or at least what appears to be so. In reality it’s standards and expectations plainly spoken when you don’t have the time to finesse the message. You can’t, or you are buried and fucked. And someone who can’t take a bit of railing when they fuck up most likely won’t be able to dig themselves or anyone else out of a premature grave.

The humming food service kitchen is something to behold. Unfortunately that’s not super prominent in Ramsay’s productions. They focus on individual triumph, but not so much chicanery. Honest winning, I guess, in this little bubble that has a never-ending supply of fish and beef and much more from all over the world delivered to the Las Vegas desert within a business day.

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What do you do, or try to do, when someone is beating you? The common answers I assume would be to fight back or get away. In some situations this is impossible to do, or time has to pass before meaningful action can be taken while using mitigation measures in the meantime.

Time has passed since 2020, and maybe more importantly, 2021. I find that sometimes hard to believe, because it seemed the world stopped at quite a few points and we never left 2020. And surely, I thought, this couldn’t be reality. I was instilled like many others with heart-stopping fear. I was so sensitive all over at times that I could feel every muscle in my head and neck while I thought hard about the foreseeable future.

The world did not totally stop, but for a significant amount of the population it did. And people were extinguished, the magnificent and manifold points in the universe they expressed in glorious human form, warts and all – gone forever. As the culling goes on, millions are adding up now.

It’s been major escalation on a worldwide scale, tragedy that in a way has to be understood via screens (reading, watching, discerning) to take in its scope. And also due to the fact that many of us have been isolated and damaged by the sudden stopping of movement and free speech. Despite this, I think there is value in comprehending it, no matter how difficult that may be. No matter the agreeable or acceptable excuses. And not to go all Bon Jovi on you, but we’ve got each other, and that’s a lot. There is kinship and solidarity to be found, and people who have thankfully been spared by saline-injecting heroes who can now be empowered by those who have stood firm to speak their truths and share their experiences without fear. Just one aspect of the universe that once recognized, valued, and cared for fluttered back from certain extinction to shine as bright as ever, leaving countless points of light in the afterglow.

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Here I thought we might get away without some sick Ritual going into the fourth consecutive New Year of the New Normal. I and most likely anyone reading this was rocked by Qasem Soleimani’s assassination on January 3, 2020. On January 6, 2021, liberals mass hallucinated over CNN’s Worst Attack on Our Democracy Ever production, giving the green light to the true [Woke] coup provocateurs and infiltrators to politicize everything they possibly can and to purge every partisan and dissident with extreme prejudice if necessary. And just prior to the advent of 2022, Biden threatened death upon the majority of Americans for their resistance to lethal injections. Of course, no one scripting those lines for President Roboto thought anyone would die from lack of the toxic secret sauce. The implication was crystal clear, though many “dissidents” thought themselves smarter for “surviving the winter of severe illness and death” and AI guided memery continues to circulate. Many resistors did not in fact survive due to numerous factors outside of a cold or continue to face a possible lifetime of uncertainty, robbed of careers and assets.

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So I have been intermittently trying to record a video or podcast on the topics I’m going to blog about in this post. One reason is that I become emotionally overwhelmed when speaking on the subject of apex predator subordination, trafficking, and slavery by humans. It can be embarrassing, and it’s hard for me to compose myself around strangers even. I don’t know, some things just need to come out I guess. I cried like a baby the first time I experienced a memorial for rescued tigers whose remains had to be cremated to prevent any possibility for harvesting of their bones or organs. I visit it occasionally and silently cry. The sunlight as it spills through the foliage of ancient knotty and gnarly giant trees makes for a space of knowing, of love and respect that doesn’t require additional witnesses to display its force and power.

As a child, I faced a series of traumatic events very early on, and the tenderness it caused led me to sympathize with bears very much and I wept for their unfair treatment by humans. I was entranced by PBS wildlife specials for hours. I think what got me through some lonely and confusing points in those early years was treasuring a lovely ceramic sculpture of a mama bear and her cubs escaping into the woods just past a “no hunting” sign; it had a music box that once wound up played “Born Free”. And as sentimental as that may sound, it is symbolic of the crux of the matter for me – the sorrow for majestic animals that deserve mutual respect from humans and who in captivity will never be able to exercise their true potential. Due to human malfeasance, greed, and unchecked desire, those born into captivity will be very unlikely to fend for themselves if sent to the natural habitats of their forebears. This in turn is also the story of us, and what we are at risk of losing.

When the stars threw down their spears
And water’d heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

“The Tyger”, William Blake

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Sometimes I wonder what it will take for some people to quit automatically smearing others as conspiracy theorists for not wanting and resisting the covid injections that are of course only the beginning of a slew of restrictions the ruling class wants to impose upon us all for life. We’re protecting ourselves long term and being conscious of what debilitating injury would mean for our loved ones and our assets that the injured are being taken for without any kind of compensation, let alone consideration. It is still mind boggling to me that people in positions of authority over me in previous jobs suffered and continue to suffer the effects of the shots while scapegoating, harassing, and excluding me. I had supervisors who were out days and weeks at a time without explanation; an athletic colleague with an honorable discharge from the army required leg surgery after her series; a cubicle mate under 30 required weekly heart monitoring appointments with a specialist. And this was in 2021 alone.

Looking back on the last two years and the spiral of insanity around vaxing the world or whatever, the fact that I was literally offered free donuts (a donut perhaps?) in a work email for getting this possibly life altering pharmaceutical in the midst of this propaganda blitz is surreal to the extreme. I’m at a loss for words most days, and I have to control myself from bursting into laughter about it if I speak aloud on these experiences. I say this because the consequences are real and deadly on a mass scale, and that is no joking matter. But such an offer is something one would have laughed off as ridiculous in years past. The level of fear and disciplining instilled worldwide, some cultures being more susceptible than others, has been so deleterious to clear thinking. Sure, it’s expected you would jump at the prospect of a “free donut” if you need to be “nudged” to do the right thing so “we all” can move on.

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It’s really weird that we get this story about a completely unlikeable female abuser who portrayed herself as a victim at the time when abortion, framed as the only choice anyone could make regarding their body autonomy, is being threatened. But we all know that it is larger than that, and the “populist right” with their shit eating grins know that too. And anyone with a brain knew how the right would position itself after the “blue” assault on bodily integrity became too big of an embarrassment to ignore any longer.

As someone who has always supported what is called “choice”, I’ve often said that the way to ensure that there are fewer abortions is to maintain their legality, safety, and accessibility. In such a world, poor, abused, and uneducated women would have more opportunities for self determination; they no longer have to fall into those categories at all and can exert more control over their reproductive capabilities. Even in my adolescence during the 90s, people did not want to discuss how the menstrual cycle works, as if it was taboo. Twenty years later, that has all but disappeared. We have apps for that now, and plan B is as easy as walking to the pharmacy when a condom breaks. There’s really not much shame left, and for all the faults of digitization, more information is available for all women to make smarter decisions and never have to “choose”, sans harmful and damaging hormonal pharmaceuticals as well.

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Discussion on dreams, the fucking Foo Fighters, and new mandates. As always, may take hours for the buffering to get ironed out. Cheers.

Discussion on why certain individuals of the working class being brainwashed into acting as propagandists for big pharma aren’t the true enemies. Please note: it may take Archive Dot Org hours to fully format this before it’s buffered! Peace and chicken grease.

Ramblings and observations on where we’ve been, where we’re at, and where we could end up. Please note: if you are reading and/or trying to view this shortly after seeing it posted, it may take hours for our blessed archive dot org to format it nicely so you don’t have to deal with buffering issues! I hope to follow this up with more discussion on what effects the Delta operation could have on factionalizing resistance in the US.

When I was first out on my own as a teenager and young adult, I paid the bills and made a living by waiting tables and cooking. That was over 20 years ago now and now seems an impossibility for people that young trying to do anything on their own now due to the controlled demolition under the guise of covid and soon, the climate. It’s also interesting to think back on the wide network of friends I developed. We were all young with working class backgrounds, ambitious, and simply happy to be out on our own and making our own lives on our own terms, at least socially.

I don’t like quantifying anything demographically when it comes to personal relationships, but it is unfortunately relevant now because of how compartmentalized life has become with the rapid digitization of society. Every other friend I had was gay or bisexual, and it feels kind of funny to think about this on terms that are acceptable now in our supposedly enlightened progressive age– “as a young hetero, I was a solid ally to the gay community”. Does anyone my age or from my generation express themselves this way? The relationships I made through work, and not only via whatever my current place of employment was (if you’ve been in the service industry, you know this), were built on trust and mutual respect for “the hustle” and the ability to get shit done.

Some friends did drag, and the scene that comes across your television screen now seems totally sterile and soulless compared to the actual community effort that went into supporting your friends who did the damn thing seriously at established joints that not everyone — say, hetero white collar suburbanites flying pride flags? — was privy to. I use “community” in the sense that you could rely on the self-appointed block grandma to fix the hem on the scarf you had to wear on the catwalk; that the handsome GM from your roomie’s “casual fine dining” gig was going to make a cameo and bring brownies to the after party. It was just a mundane yet harmonious reality, but somehow in this age of wokeness, these actual community members who socially, materially, and spiritually supported their neighbors and even employees no matter their orientation aren’t quite edgy enough to make up “the gay community”. And, through the various slow-burn depopulation programs that led up to the makings of the covid world order, they and these bonds largely don’t exist any more.

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