Monthly Archives: August 2013

Clarity and Why Your Accountant is a Stormtrooper-in-Waiting

Apparently I’m losing my knack for it.

The janitorial work I am doing is cash under the table daylabor.  I didn’t get a job at Home Depot.  Illegal alien workers hang out in front of Home Depots looking for dayjobs that pay cash.  I used that meme as a rhetorical flourish in my quasi-fictive narrative-cum-parable.  Stop emailing me asking why I’m working for pro-sodomy Home Depot and asking how I have avoided FICA taxes.  I’m not.

Today I cleaned out a vacated apartment.

Tomorrow I’m back on the floor waxing crew.

I am paid in cash, and rest assured, pay not a dime in taxes.  In fact, I doubt my employers even know my full name.  And you know, that’s how it should be.  If one man wants to contract with another man for labor, the state has no role in that.  It is none of the state’s business if I want to clean out someone’s garage for fifty bucks or whatever.

After the counter-revolution and war, I’m tellin’ y’all, the whole income tax satanic evilness has GOT TO END in the new nation or kingdom or whatever it is.  A low sales tax, at this point, seems to me to be the best option.  I know the method of tax collection is a very complex question, and certainly tax revenue is needed because some government and public infrastructure is needed.  No question.  But we can definitely strike off the list the methods that we know to be evil, and income taxes are a perverse monstrosity from the blackest pit of hell; once again, a construct of the (all together now!) early 20th century!

And remember, the accounting industry will fight to the death and align itself with any regime that promises to keep a horrific income tax code in place because tax prep is now the accountant’s entire raison d’etre.  Again, if you think that a bunch of middle-class white people in the United States are incapable of aligning with and beating their neighbors into submission to the tyrannical oligarchy, just take a long, hard look at a picture of your accountant and behold the new incarnation of the stormtrooper.  Those guys will do anything, will climb into any bed, give anyone up and rat anyone out in order to maintain the internal revenue code.  Just like the Obama regime, they will never, ever just peacably walk away.  They will never, ever voluntarily give up the cash cow and power that they now have.  No way.


Stating the Obvious and Important Tactical Admonition on Aliases

Back to my old job of STATING THE BLOODY OBVIOUS:  Barack Obama personally and the entire Obama regime is in an EXPLICIT ALLIANCE with the Muslim Brotherhood.  Obama personally is a product of the MB and has connections from his university days, Chicago and his putative Kenyan relatives – Malik Obama (putative half brother) is a high-ranking MB player in Africa.  Further, Hillary Clinton’s right-hand-man and possible lesbian concubine Huma Abedin (Mrs. Anthony Weiner) is the daughter of two of the MB’s highest-ranking members.  The MB has massively, massively infiltrated the United States, the FEDGOV bureaucracy, the intelligence agencies, most particularly the FBI, and the Congress and Executive branches of the post-American regime.  Further, nothing will be said about the Christian genocide in Egypt (well over 80 Coptic churches and monasteries burned in the last three weeks) because these people in Washington are evil, evil people and HATE Christianity and the Church.  They WANT Christianity and Christians to be exterminated.  They relish in the death of the Copts in Egypt.  They relish in the genocide and are preparing to carry out the same thing in the former United States eventually in an axis with Sodomites, musloids and militant Marxists – and many of the Sodomites and Marxists will SELF-IDENTIFY AS CHRISTIANS.  You mark my words.  This war is going to be so unlike anything ever before seen, because the lines of battle are going to be almost impossible to conventionally demarcate.  Every population center will be its own discrete theater, and the players, with the exception of gang-bangers, will be almost impossible to visually sort.  And yes, there will absolutely be white, middle-class suburban people among the enemy.  Been to the airport lately?  TSA much?

Which brings me to something I have wanted to talk about for a while.  We need to talk about “handles”, “aliases” and “noms de guerre”.  Guys, while that tactic may have been sound in previous wars, it is going to be a disaster in this war.  It needs to stop.  Let me explain.  Let’s say I go to some gathering somewhere of counter-revolutionaries.  A middle-aged white dude walks up to me and says, “Hi.  I’m ‘Disturbed Citizen’ from the Mid-South Shotgun Shooters blog.  We have corresponded via email.”  Now stop and think about this.  How can I possibly, possibly confirm that this guy, who I have indeed corresponded with via email, actually is who he says he is?  We all now know for a metaphysical certitude that all of our email has been logged and may have been read by FEDGOV.  We MUST assume that FEDGOV is every bit as knowledgable of our data and correspondences as we are.  How do I know that this man standing before me really is ‘Disturbed Citizen’?  There is no possible way for me to confirm this.  I don’t know what ‘Disturbed Citizen’s’ name is, so asking for an I.D. is pointless.  I don’t know what ‘Disturbed Citizen’ looks like, so visual confirmation is off the table.  And the enemy has FULL ACCESS to all correspondence between myself and the real ‘Disturbed Citizen’, and thus can quote and make references WITH FULL CONTEXT AND DETAIL.

Do you see this?  Given the tactical situation, the proper course is NOT for us to hide.  That ship sailed a LONG time ago.  The only thing that hiding behind aliases, handles and noms de guerre accomplishes is opening a HUGE door to the enemy such that they can infiltrate us with ease never-before-seen in the annals of war.  The proper tactic is to BE NOT AFRAID and come out from behind aliases and handles NOW.

Now, take me, for example.  If I were to roll into some event somewhere, people would know who I was by name and by sight, and if they did not know who I was, I could quickly and easily confirm my identity and bona fides.

I know it is a big step, but just read over what I have said and then THINK.  The tactical table has been inverted.  If you all try to fight this war as if it hasn’t, you will get your butt handed to you and you will deserve it.  Enough of this prevent defense.  The only way to win is to fix bayonets and charge, and in my considered opinion, step one should be establishing identity so that we at least have a chance at a modicum of OPSEC.  Counterintuitive?  Absolutely.  But the truth often is counterintuitive.

That is all.


"This is so much easier in the dark…"

Aw yeeeah.  Guess who is gettin’ her MAD janitorial skillz on?  Yup.  I knew if I loitered in front of the Home Depot over by the wastewater treatment plant long enough, something was bound to happen.

I am on a floor waxing crew.  Don’t be hatin’.  I see you hatin’.  Yo.  Playas gonna play.  Ballers gonna ball.  Buffers gonna buff.  Wax on, wax off, Daniel-san.  Breathe in through nose, out through mouth.

So we’re stripping the wax off of the floor with one of those buffing machines – my co-waxing Home Depot-loitering Homeskillet Juan Carlos (Viva Jalisco!) and myself, that is – and yours truly was on the squeegee wet-vac.  At first, we were not in a spot with direct light, and we were moving right along.  No streaks.  Then, we moved into an area with direct sunlight, and all of these streaks start showing up.  And you CAN’T HAVE STREAKS.  Streaks are simply intolerable in the floor waxing bidniss.  So I says, in all my brilliance, “This is so much easier in the dark.”  Well, technically what I said was, “Esto es mucho más fácil en la oscuridad.”

Oh, there’s nothing like the smell of inadvertant allegory in the morning.

Yes, indeed.  I suppose it is sometimes tempting to think that this, and by “this” I mean LIFE, would be so much easier if we could just go through it in the dark.  I have sometimes wished in fits of ingratitude that I didn’t know the stuff that I know.  Life certainly SEEMS to be easier for people who drift through life ignorant and incurious, oblivious to what is going on around them, wrapped up in their own simple, sentimental, sensual lives; blissfully clueless and indifferent.  And the more you learn, the harder it all seems.

But then I remember that if I didn’t know the stuff that I know then I wouldn’t know Our Lord beyond maybe His Name and very brief overview of the Gospels, and I would be one of those people who just doesn’t CARE that He is waiting for me in the Tabernacle, and, if it was necessary, would die for me as many times as I go to Mass.

And that’s just intolerable to think about.

I have streaks.  Huge, obvious streaks right in front of the door.  Bring the Light.  More Light.  Illuminate the streaks and let me be aghast at them.  The Light compels one to improve one’s squeegee wet-vac technique, and thank God for that, because I have no interest in living in the dark, no matter how “easy” it might seem.

In ipso vita erat, et vita erat lux hominum.
In Him was life, and the life was the light of men.


I came across this on YouTube and laughed myself silly, especially after re-reading my “Women’s Suffrage” essay in posting it on “The One About…” page.  Gentlemen, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE make Christmas 2013 the year when you buy your wife a floor buffer.  Put a big red bow on it and surprise her with it on Christmas Morning.  And, er, make sure you video it.  In HD.  Multiple angles would be good, too.  I’m sure it will go over just as well or better than the commercial below depicts.  Really.  Heh.

Starting Tuesday Off Right

Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.



Meet St. Barbara.  The Eucharist in one hand, an assault weapon in the other.  Sigh.  She is the patron saint of artillerymen, military engineers, gunsmiths and anyone who works with explosives.  Her father beheaded her himself because she converted to Christianity and refused to marry any of the pagan dorks her father tried to marry her off to – hence the sword.  There is something so choice about being able to wave the instrument of one’s execution back in the face the the world.  If I get to be martyred, and I make it to heaven, and anyone cares, I hope mine is something good, like a tank.  Or a super-longrange sniper rifle.

Wow.  I’m being vain about my instrument of execution, and am only half joking.  Sigh.

The One About… page begun.

Up top on the Menu is a link to “The One About…” which is the “greatest hits” page.  It is a work in progress but there are already 5 essays posted.  I’ll be adding more steadily.  I *think* these posts all have permalinks, so you should, in theory, be able to do whatever it is you crazy kids do with blogposts now that you couldn’t do before on the old site.  And they’ll never “fall off” the bottom of the page.  Ahhhh.  The good life, eh?

The migration has begun…

Patience, please.  This may take a while.  Archives are being imported and eventually a “greatest hits” page will be set up.  There is much to do, and it is finally starting to happen, but things move at a much slower pace when one is working out of a proverbial Van Down By The River.  😉  Thank you!




Pulchra Vera: Hail Mother of Mercy

I promised a longtime reader I would post this today. This composition is from the 11th Century. Listen and remember that you have been taught for your entire life by “enlightened” American culture that these were the “Dark Ages”. What a lie. Look out your window and behold a truly Dark Age, abominable and desolate.

Enjoy, and happy Feast of the Assumption.

We’ll have a couple of cool science-based posts tomorrow.

Hail mother of Mercy, mother of God and mother of Pardon, mother of Hope and mother of Grace, mother full of holy gladness. O Mary!

Hail, honor of mankind. Hail worthier Virgin than the others because you surpass all of them and in heaven you occupy the highest seat of honor. O Mary!

Hail Blessed Virgin yet bearing child: For He who sits at the Father’s right hand, The ruler of heaven, of earth and sky, has sheltered Himself in your womb. O Mary!

Become, O mother, our solace: Be for us our source of joy, and at the last, after this exile, unite us rejoicing to the choir of angels. O Mary!

Best Fan Letter Ever

This one is near the top, if not at the top. I am humbled.

Dear Ms. Barnhardt,

I discovered you only today. In my cursory observation I discovered you are fondly admired as well as vociferously ridiculed, and maybe a little despised?

I read a number of your articles/posts, and heard you on radio. I can’t think of any other way to describe my impression of you as that of a true enigma; the genuine article.

You are puzzlingly complex and unbearably frustrating yet completely interesting and fascinating. To think that Conrad Black, the disgraced “Lord” who, in his pre-con days, was a Steering Committee member of the Bilderberg Group, almost gushes over you, proves my point!

A lot of what you say does not at all line up with what I hold to be good and true, but I felt completely forced to write you and tell you that you are about the bravest, most stouthearted person I’ve ever listened to, as well as being one of the best creative writers ever.

All the best,


Let this be a lesson. No one respects or truly listens to what a politicking bootie-kisser has to say. “Playing to the crowd” is NOT leadership, and merits no genuine respect, nor should it.

No one understands this anymore, and just a few decades ago this was the defining quality of a genuine leader. I cannot see how Western Civilization has any hope of surviving much less recovering so long as leadership is conflated with popularity, and disingenuousness is held as a virtue.

As for me, despite the fanmail, I still aspire to janitorial work. Please, somebody, just let me clean something.