I don’t know what gets you going. Gets you hopping mad. I’m sure that like me however, many of those things have to do with the tribe and their influence over our lives.
I guess there are many flavors of mad. There are rocks in the shoes that simply won’t move under the soles of your feet and refuse to come out. There are splinters that cannot be seen with the naked eye. There are mad-hatters. There are people on cellphones that insist on ‘flanking’ you in traffic…just outside your field of rear/side view….living in their own little worlds.
Then there are people like Bill Maher. Now this little sawed-off yid really boils my beans. He is one of those yet-to-be-exposed ‘molesters of humanity’…like Woody Allen, Jon Stewart et al…that you would prefer to be on your local ‘sex-offender’ webpage…just so you know where the little shits are going to pop up next.
I watched he and a bunch of Hollyweird goyim doing a spot for Prop. 37. Like poison ivy plants, most tribe members can preclude a venture into their territory…no matter how attractive from a distance. I’m all for informative labeling of Satan’s food(not to be confused with devil’s food cake, which is one of my favorites). But if Bill-“get these 9/11 kooks outta here!”-Maher is involved…I gotta think twice. Maybe this prop isn’t what it purports to be. Maybe it’s just jewish in-fighting. It is probably some sort of scam…or this minion of Beelzebub wouldn’t be involved. Enough people are fed up with this jewish horse’s ass, that it may be an anti-ad campaign. I dunno. “You knew I was a snake when you took me in”. Well, we all take these reptiles in at one point or another.
Then there are events that slip under the dermis comfortably.
I was talking to my Sister the other day and remembering with her, one of the luckiest days of our little lives. We kinda settled on a date of about 1957 for this particular memory…but that may be a year or two faulty either way. We were goofy little kids. That much we recall of the time in question. A Christian Doctor that we had at the time told my Mother of an upcoming event about which we as Midwestern crackers would have otherwise never been aware. Mahalia Jackson was to appear at the local Armory for one performance only and tickets were free. Well, now knowing of her history, that would make sense. She did a lot of that in her early struggling years as the world’s greatest Gospel singer…as she is now known.
No…I haven’t ‘found Jesus’. Nor was my family particularly religious at all. My parents raised us to think for ourselves. Especially concerning religion and politics; the greatest gift a parent can give a child, in my estimation. However, my Mother was a fan. I don’t think necessarily of the hymns Jackson sang(although she was certainly familiar with them, having been raised herself in a more Christian home)…but of that monumental voice of Mahalia.
So anyway…here we were entering what I now remember as ‘church’, rather than a concert per se. We were all gussied up in our Sunday best and were literally, out of probably a thousand others, the only Caucasian people in attendance. Presumably because of our…well, ‘light’ complexion…we were ushered down to the main floor merely a few feet from the stage. This was the first concert either my Sis or I had ever attended. Her act, we soon learned, was a bit hard to follow. Much of the live entertainment that we have both seen over the years following, pales in comparison. That event beggars description. It scarred our minds for life. For good. I won’t even try to describe it to you. Words fail, when confronted by a memory of such talent witnessed from just a few arm-lengths away. And at that young age.
It got under my skin. Under my radar. To try and place this event in perspective in my little brain and its memories, I watched a few vids of Jackson’s performances. Take your pick. I think you will agree that my little pea-brain recalls faithfully on this one.
But anyway, to try and tie all this shit together…it seems to me that some things in life desperately want to bypass all the normal filters in the human mind. They punch you hard. Good or bad…maybe we should pay more attention to our gut reactions to many things. I never reasoned out my initial gut assessment of Bill Maher. He is a smart-ass jew. That’s just about all he brings. It sticks out all over him. As it does with so many of the Devil’s-own in the entertainment field. He gets under the skin. An irritant. A kick in the gut…such that we all better start acknowledging…like the child-rapist down the block. They put up those predator websites for a reason. These people can fly under your radar too…but in a bad way.
Of course he is just one. Maher, that is. I have a list of others that effect me that way…if you would like to see. But the point is that too many of us dis our initial reckonings. Most of the time societal filters serve us well. We don’t pull out a handgun and blast that young exec flanking our cars. We don’t slap the shit out of that rude bitch at the bank. But some people need serious notice taken. For good and for bad.
Ms. Jackson, like most truly gifted Goyim artists(as you can clearly see from this documentary film), had every angelic note bled from her body by predatory tribal money-grabbing. From Studs Terkel to the entertainment Devil himself – William S. Paley. Oh…she had cahones the size of grapefruits when it came to her conviction to sing ONLY gospel music. However, they simply wore her to an early grave with touring, recording and personal appearances. But in spite of their selfish efforts, her legacy remains.
Good and bad. Gut kicks. They happen in life. Sometimes, if you are lucky…with historical figures as my family experienced that warm evening. Often at those times you have to make valuation based on how that kick felt. And how these people that affect us so…feel under our skin.