1,957 words 
Whether we like it or not, most people aren’t deep thinkers. This is especially so for those who pointedly tout themselves as independent minds. For quite some time, it’s been a common problem for leftists, who usually have no idea who implanted the ideas into their soft heads. One notable effect is that their rhetoric usually resembles a tapestry of strung-together clichés, which is a symptom of what their diminished mental universe looks like.
I’m not the first to observe that blacks often throw around a lot of charged phrases, slogans, and compressed talking points without engaging with their opponent’s ideas. To them, a debate is more like a verbal sparring match than a meeting of minds. A minority motormouth can keep slugging away with the buzzwords and canned arguments to wear down the opponent, and then go for the rope-a-dope move.
Reviewing horrible leftist literature is one of my specialties here. After reading several books by prominent skintellectuals, I note that they mostly rely on rehashed talking points cooked up in academia. Although the authors each have their own way of retelling them and weaving in personal anecdotes, the basic ideas are not their own. The books read like a tautological bundle of unfalsifiable arguments based on incorrect premises which they learned in black studies classes and HBCUs. To be fair, though, the High Priestess of White Guilt known as Robin DiAngelo is no better.
Then there’s Leticia James – bless her heart – and her “too pale, too male, too stale” speech. So this is the obstreperous attorney general, a pustulent boil on the rump of the legal profession, whose politically motivated lawfare strangled VDare, badgered the NRA, and went after The Donald during his Presidential campaign. Then Ms. Brown Sugar turns out to be a jive turkey chanting slogans like Jesse Jackson. So this is New York’s chief law enforcement officer entrusted with the objective and balanced administration of justice? It’s as surreal as it is monstrous.
When mental heavy lifting is needed, some activist types and diversity hires like Harvard’s former president Claudine Gay will resort to plagiarism. Others use ghost writers. Barack Obama may be one of them, if there’s something to persistent discussion about one of his autobiographies, Dreams From My Father. During the eight years of The Obomber’s reign, one of the most influential people in the country was the dude who wrote text for the teleprompter. Then, of course, there’s the confirmed plagiarist St. Dr. Rev. MLK Jr., whose consigliere Comrade Stanley David Levison wrote his speeches. The “I Have a Dream” oration itself became a minor motherlode of lofty catchphrases – “the content of their character” and all the rest of it. Even muggle conservatives get taken in by it, even though neither Comrade Levison nor his golem actually believed the mushy universalism it contained.
So Many Clichés
Contemporary leftist rhetoric is also devolving into a barrage of trite cant and humbug in purple prose. They used to have much catchier catchphrases, such as the slogan “Make love, not war” by Herbert Marcuse, one of my favorite whipping boys. Then there were bumper stickers like “You can’t hug your child with nuclear arms.” Clever, huh? Then quality started slipping. These days, the left can’t meme any more. They’ve even forgotten how to think. They pitch a fit when we call them NPCs, but the ugly truth is that ChatGPT produces deeper conversations than the typical leftist weenie.
All too often, their rhetoric sounds like a mishmash of buzzwords and talking points strung together. Some of it is stilted to the point of dishonesty. They’ll speak of every woman’s right to choose, but don’t say what this alleged right is, much less describe the ghastly surgical procedures involved. Apparently this is the “right” that dare not speak its name. Since political correctness took off during the 1990s, much effort has gone into reframing language into catchphrases that reinforce their ideology. For one instance of many, the international trespassers once known as illegal aliens now are undocumented migrants. Hookers and porn stars are now sex workers, as if banging for bucks is just another legitimate career. Lately, things like castration and double mastectomies with no medical reason are called gender affirming care.
Other than that, their language is peppered with devil words. They don’t even have to explain why being an ‑ist or a ‑phobe is something bad; simply invoking the terms will elicit the expected emotional reactions. As needed, they can tack on a suffix to create a new devil word, and the reflexive effect is built into it. It all seems like some weird Neuro-Linguistic Programming voodoo implanted into the unconscious mind.
In the last few years, things haven’t improved. Our democracy became a new catchphrase repeated incessantly. I want to know what focus group came up with it! Then there’s Kamala’s famous and oft-repeated tagline, “What can be, unburdened by what has been,” performed with a pair of arm gestures. OK, that sounds kind of warm and fuzzy, but what does she mean? I gather that the point is that the future can be better, but really, the phrase doesn’t have to mean anything as long as it strikes the right emotional chord.
After The Donald defeated Heels-Up Harris last November, this unleashed a flood of woebegone social media lamentation from dispirited liberal bedwetters. I noticed that they were parroting the same damn things – the plight of the undocumented migrants, women’s rights will soon disappear, we’re going to be living in The Handmaid’s Tale, the trans community is imperiled. . . I even heard some of that lachrymose litany before the election. (Long story. . .) It’s all so predictable. They were rattling it off all in the same sequence too. I have to wonder, what transmission belt is feeding them the boilerplate?
Cupcake’s Finest Speech
A barrage of slogans strung together doesn’t seem like a coherent argument meant to be engaged with, and that’s because it isn’t. Very figuratively, one can imagine the cliché word salads as a strange type of music played on a metaphoric indoctrination organ. It’s as if the ideas can be compressed into notes, chords, and motifs. These jingles aren’t anything particularly melodic; it’s more like the “beep beep honk honk” of modernist experimental composition, but it gets the job done. Let’s take Cupcake’s infamous “basket of deplorables” speech. (That one was a real hoot!) It begins:
You know, to just be grossly generalistic, you could put half of Trump’s supporters into what I call the basket of deplorables. Right? The racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, Islamophobic, you name it.
Imagine Cupcake at the indoctrination organ, pulling out the stop for the Devil Words register. With spidery fingers, she reaches forth to press the racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, and Islamophobic keys. The instrument produces a scary diatonic riff in the signature of Thoughtcrime Major. The audience instantaneously eats it up like candy, since the sponge cake between their ears has been preprogrammed at the subconscious level to respond to the notes.
As it happens, music sometimes is performed with accompaniment on the indoctrination organ. Really, the idea is not too far-fetched. For example, there’s John Lennon’s remarkably dippy song “Imagine.” There’s nothing wrong with it musically, but the lyrics to this candy-coated hymn to communism and globalism are so dreadful that I’ve parodied it. When I get around to starting a video channel, I’ll post a performance. Until then, you can hear Yoko Ono’s masterpiece.
The BIPOC Song
What is the dippiest song ever? Since the 1960s, there have been quite a few tunes about lost innocence. Often they’re remarkably mopey. One song in particular is “Sugar Mountain” by that dweeb Neil Young. It sounds like he was undergoing a midlife crisis as a teenager. In 1964, he lamented that you can’t be twenty in that figurative carnival of youth; this is especially so now that he’s hit seventy nine. Even worse is “The Logical Song,” which still makes my ears bleed. The lyrics seem to say, “They’ve enrolled me in Kindergarten, I’m expected to grow up, I’m not supposed to be a liberal weenie now, and I don’t even know who I am any more.” Bub, if you’re still feeling that way after you turn 21, then I recommend proletarian psychotherapy; after a few brewskies, you’ll feel much better. Then there’s the large corpus of Daniel Johnston, the troubled corn dog hawker who became a sorry entertainer. Although the kid got to be oddly influential, he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. His music is so crappy that it should be sold with a warning label, and the back should be printed with the number for the suicide hotline. The best use of his woeful warbles is for enhanced interrogations now that waterboarding has been banned.
Now, I’ve found something even dipper than all the above, “The BIPOC Song” by the performer Molly Gawler. It’s so terrible that I wondered if it might be a parody, but I’m pretty sure she’s serious about it. This song isn’t just window-licking stupid, this is “you have 45 chromosomes, you ate lead paint chips as a kid, your father’s your uncle too, and yo mama guzzled whiskey when you were a bun in the oven” kind of stupid. (If you need something to cleanse your ears after listening to almost a minute of sonic torture, here you go.) Compared to “The BIPOC Song,” the “Sunny D and Rum” pop remix is practically a Puccini aria.
The maestro begins by pulling out the stop on the indoctrination organ activating the Inclusivity register. She taps the tempo on her chest cavity over the anatomical structure pumping diluted ketchup through her circulatory system. The thrilling performance begins. Let’s break down the lyrics, shall we? Cultural Marxism meets music theory once again! It’s been ages, hasn’t it?
Twice she spells out the fashionable abbreviation “BIPOC,” which is a deferential way of saying non-white. If BIPOC is a single note on the indoctrination organ’s keyboard, then spelling it out would be like playing a rolled chord of the fundamental. Then she twice spells out the letters in LGBTQ. Since this doesn’t refer to ethnic groups, but rather sexual identities, then this doesn’t quite fit. Therefore, the second pair of arpeggios for the rainbow mafia, naming off letters in another alphabet soup agglomeration of special interests, makes it sound like she’s playing scales on the indoctrination organ. With the next lines, she twice names some of these precious minorities, a riff in the key of Diversity Minor. Following that, she names some others – ah, another riff! – with the vocal accompaniment carefully pronouncing the “T” in Latino the dentalized Spanish way. (Wait – what? That’s not Latinx, or even Latino/a? Narrative violation, oh no! It seems this is a blue note.) Oddly, she rolls the “R” in Creole. I think the maestro is trying too hard with that flourish on the keyboard.
So the point of this song is. . . what exactly? The final line, repeated twice, is “We all have a place in this world.” However, the “we” isn’t entirely too reassuring! Did you notice who pointedly wasn’t named as belonging in the world? How lovely! That’s a nice final riff in the key of Diversity Minor; thank you so much, Molly! Remember, everyone: “inclusion” means everyone except us. Molly Gawler is now a better musician than John Lennon, though that’s easy because he got whacked in 1980. On that note, maybe Yoko Ono’s screaming isn’t so awful after all.
16 comments
The Sunny D and Rum performer looked like she was lip syncing. Is nothing real in this world anymore?
There’s an original cut where she’s singing solo. Then someone put it through autotune, added a pop synth track, and cut the video so that it matches the tempo on the accompaniment. So that’s why it looks a bit choppy. Anyway, this proves that anyone can be Katy Perry these days!
She Is no Lulu Roman that’s for sure.
Imagine Cupcake at the indoctrination organ, pulling out the stop for the Devil Words register. With spidery fingers, she reaches forth to press the racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, and Islamophobic keys. The instrument produces a scary diatonic riff in the signature of Thoughtcrime Major. If that is major then what magic words are in Thoughcrime Minor? ‘Right wing extremist’, ‘virulent antisemite’, and ‘neo-nazi terrorists’? Always gotta up the spookiness for the morons to shit they/them’s pants. A WN rendition of We Didn’t Start the Fire should be in working order. “The cars are burning, blm is twerking, no we didn’t light it, cops didn’t fight it…”
There is only one color that isn’t in the all colors and shades flag. Not a coincidence. It is way too early to be comfortable, but I suspect the blacks are going to come to learn that promoting TGR may turn out to be far worse for them than life in 90% white America. An albatross population that couldn’t get it together when being handed $22 trillion in handouts is still demanding reparations. Turns out the Latinx and Asians who run California now aren’t interested in paying those out. Turns out MS-13 and cousins can do sophisticated logistics and can dominate gang warfare over them. Turns out that as the empire goes through a debt restructuring the gibs just aren’t going to be there when push comes to shove. Turns out that the newly imported elites have no guilt complex and may be much more easily tired of and far less compassionate toward their dysfunction.
Things, for now, have taken a very serious turn back towards being very seriously done by very serious people on the behalf of other serious people. Despite the massive pogrom of white men the past decade, there are still a large number of very young white men on the vanguard of the serious turn toward serious technology that moves things in the physical world. Those things include a healthy dose of advanced energy production and weapons systems. Those turn out to be things an empire needs and must in a pinch choose over tin cup rattlers and slogan shouters.
Hey! Hey! Ho! Ho! the empire’s broke aint gots no dough!
Hey! Hey! Ho! Ho! Western Civ don’t be takin crap no mo?
Hey! Hey! Ho! Ho! been sixty years less than nothing to show
Hey! Hey! Ho! Ho! the billz come due sumpin’ gots ta go
Fools and their foolishness can no longer be suffered. If they won’t be quiet and go away, they’ll have to be dragged kicking and screaming.
As Szutty says, the age of kiddie pool politics is over. The Left went bare knuckles first, and I get the feeling that the pale, the stale and the male have all had enough.
When St. Floyd deprived us of his beneficence, the multitudinous liberals knew they had their birthing event. The rather bland death of yet another less-than-stellar black life was their moment. Obama couldn’t quite get it done despite having lots of help, but boy did he set the table.
Springing into action, we had low-intelligence people in high places (kamala) educate us on the new world order, diversity, equity, and inclusion. No longer just a way to grade diamonds, these three words would become gospel and law like it or not.
What surprised me, among many things, was the sheer quantity of diversity studies and diversity experts, all ready and indignantly poised to indoctrinate/educate/ force feed us this new saviour of the races.
As Mr. Albrecht points out, the words used to teach us were of a new level, and it was not a pretty one. Study after study that came out of the black studies, or black women’s studies, or black women who used to be black dudes studies departments were full of palaver. Mindless multi-syllabic words rarely seen outside of academia were strewn about these “peer-reviewed” papers. Words such as “praxis,” “epistemological,” “systemic,” and “putative” were but a few examples of how blacks strove to give their studies the patina of scholarship.
I had bookmarked but can’t find a story by a reporter who looked into the sudden “body” of black studies that now flooded our campuses, government, and even churches, I’m sorry to say. Why were there so many papers from people no one ever heard of and no one knew the existence of their useless departments? He found that for years prior to the Great Floydicide, these black scholars had been quietly circulating their jib jab-languaged papers to each other, giving each other’s paper their enthusiastic approval. Do this a bunch of times and voila, instant body of work and instant street cred in the diversity, equity, and inclusion world.
This mountain on jibber jabber used all the big words that Mr. Albrecht points out. Blacks love them some hi falutin’ jib jab (even when most of them can’t pronounce the words. But they sure can type ’em. Put a thousand monkeys in a room with a thousand typewriters and one of them, at some point, will type out Shakespeare’s works).
These now proof-sourced, peer-reviewed papers serves to give tenure and deans positions and most importantly, high-paid jobs in diversity, equity, and inclusion. Companies and universities fell over themselves to hire Professor Shaniqua T. Gibbons and Laquavious Q. Corkpopper because these two had a published body of White Supremacy papers, lawdy, lawdy, free at last.
Biden’s first and worst act was when on day one, he seeded the whole of government with D, E, and I. It was everywhere and meant thousands upon thousands of these equity experts were wormed throughout government in ways that could not be rooted out. And you can’t just say presto, chango, you’re a federal diversity employee. No, no, you have to give them a six-figure salary that matches the importance of a federal DEI job.
By doing this, biden created a false layer of economy, aka the well-paid black. Due to poor impulse control new cars, houses, weaves, press-ons, and wardrobes followed. Thank goodness President Trump is getting rid of these DEI drones. But they won’t go quietly. What other talent can they do and who will pay for the new Nissan and 3-bedroom home they bought when Grandpa Joe signed them up for their diversity talents?
Another great article, Mr. Albrecht. How I wish I learned some of them big fancy lefty words so’s I could lavish them upon your scholarship.
Let me know if you find that article – surely it’s a fun read!
The number of blacks in airports since Covid is astonishing. One used to never see them there. Of course, the number of non-whites in these Star Wars bars since Covid is also astonishing. Between the colonial settler flights paid for by us and the massive handouts to blacks, air travel is an awful undertaking to be avoided at all costs.
One of the big recipient of bailouts, aside from the new black upper middle class, was the airline industry. I am sure a planned and intentional double benefit of the Covid shutdown. The debt jubilee was a great reset of the airline industry under the cover of Covid. In addition they also got a customer subsidy program in the form of massive handouts to blacks and huge numbers of colonial settler flights. I think some of our guys should pour through DOGE and find the smoking guns on the airline executives and industry.
More debt jubilees are coming. Thiel has already stated that this time, unlike the under the cover of Covid shutdowns when Blue City debts were wiped out by money printing, this time they could (and he implied would), just let them go bankrupt. Get away from metro areas. Because when the gibs go away, these 15-25% white areas are going to chimp out. They are already going restless as the gibs spigot is under threat.
I’d end up getting arrested if I went to an airport and had to deal with their ook-ooks and stink on a flight. An elevator ride or having to ride the bus with them is pushing it for me nowadays. With peak neeg fatigue plus the exorbitant cost of everything, Whites are going to be reduced to riding their lawn mowers long distance to visit their relatives or survival-shop like the dude in that movie. Or Harry and Lloyd’s piece of shit peeweecycle.
Wow, that Molly Gawler video was Peak White Liberal Woman Cringe! In fact, I cringed so hard that I looked her up and found her instagram profile:
https://www.instagram.com/mollyfaye8/
She mostly posts a lot of ads for various events in which she is involved.
I’m sure you will all be totally shocked and surprised to learn that she is based in Maine (92.2% White, 1.59% black), and that all the events advertised on her instagram are in SUPERWHITE (and super liberal) places like Unity, Maine (97.9% White [Non-hispanic], 0% hispanic, 0% black), and Deer Isle, Maine (97.6% White, 0.2% black), and Canaan, Maine, (96.8% White, 1.1% black), and Ellsworth, Maine (93.17% White, 1% black), and Belfast, Maine (93.7% White, 0.46% black), and Winter Harbor, Maine (96.3% White, 1.4% black), and North Haven Island, Maine, (93.3% White, less than 1% black), and Blue Hill, Maine (98.6% White, less than 1% black), and Temple, Maine, (89.8% White, zero percent black), and Camden, Maine (95.6% White, 0.3% black), and Rockport, Maine (94.4% White, 0.19% black), etc. etc. etc….
She gets all around Maine, that’s for sure! But she hardly ever sees any blacks, that’s also for sure!
It sure must be easy to be a total virtue-signaling White libtard when you don’t ever have to actually interact with any real live blacks. I wish I had that luxury.
Unfortunately for me, because of my now deep feelings of second-hand embarrassment, I also found Molly Gawler’s Facebook profile.
I thought her video was Peak White Liberal Woman Cringe, but I was wrong.
Behold her virtue-signaling photos for “Black Lives Matter”. This isn’t doxxing, all these photos are set to “Public”, and you can view them even if you don’t have a Facebook account. I wish I could just upload them here as a historical record of this ridiculousness:
https://www.facebook.com/photo/?fbid=10160488542909569&set=ecnf.740919568
https://www.facebook.com/photo/?fbid=10160359454404569&set=ecnf.740919568
https://www.facebook.com/photo/?fbid=10160142871504569&set=ecnf.740919568
https://www.facebook.com/photo/?fbid=10160128759369569&set=ecnf.740919568
Oh dear. That sounds like yet another White liberal in a lily-White part of the country who therefore is sagely qualified to instruct everyone else on race relations.
There’s something that I find deeply disturbing about her face and the way she smiles. It seems to me like she is trying way too hard, as if she is trying to convince herself, and everyone else, of how “happy” and “blissful” she is. Some comments from her friends on her photos say how “blissful” she looks, but to me she just looks insane and stressed out.
Who knows, maybe she really is that happy. I’d probably be that happy too, if I lived in a zero percent black place like she does.
We are not in a battle of ideas; we are in a battle of words.
There is no ‘left’ anymore. Only the jews. When the jews abandon White lefties (as they are now doing), the tide goes out and only the jewish boats will be found to actually be sea-worthy.
It’s sad to see White people groveling like this, but what are the alternatives for them? Most of them live comfortably in 90% White Nationalist conditions. There’s no downside to be a groveler and as long as property values and tax policies keep the Belovud Culud from showing up on force (100% Section 8 NIMBYism), they can maintain both their illusions and their safety.
White Nationalism as an ideology can offer them nothing because they’re insulted by their wealth from the realities of race. That’s why they are the way they are.
But, when the jews abandon them and the darkies truly start ruling their ‘coalitions’ – or their zipcode changes – these Whites Who Run With The Darkies are in for a rude awakening.
One of my favorite phrases is “our democratic institutions.” What is a democratic institution? The whole point of reducing the size and power of government is that it isn’t voted into power. The congress is a democratic institution and so is the presidency. But other than them I don’t know what they are referring to? If anyone has been attacking the institutions of our government it’s those that flood our country with illegal and legal aliens. As I’ve noted before, they usually are not undocumented immigrants. They have documents, but not the right ones. I did get a kick out of the uproar around the removal of the “T” from the LGB for the gay national park thing in Greenwich Village. They are all a bit too sensitive to optics.
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