I have never read anything as generic as the New York Times. All the voices are so similar that people need to understand that this is the price that you – you are now more than a reader – are actually an investor, we are investing in this media-creation. And they don’t like readers much but hey. The New York Times lies through its teeth. They once complained thdt they could not find me. Maybe an axe murderer from New Jersey will threaten castration.

God only knows what they wanted. I never ask. Why bother. Oh, they’re centrist alright. Value and estimating it. How many conservative writers do they have. A lot. How many liberal writers do they have. A few. They are forever mean, old, your grandfather’s paper. Uncle Buba reads the New York Times. Old Aunt Bruiser reads the New York Times. I am told they get day old copies in prison libraries. The Pentagod papers made the New York Times, the New York Times but they did not get a say as to what ideas were in the Pentagod Papers. The Pentagod Papers were a history. In other words, we got fucked in the ass, and fucked in the ass, and fucked in the ass. The New York Times will whine and whine and whine about free speech but they censor everyone.

They supposedly carry on a liberal POV. This is facile on its face. It’s not fair. It’s biased. Where are the, leftist radical writers who are so condemned by the onslought of old media conservatism. What does this mean. It means the New York Times is full of shit. Oh, my, there’s a war when did that happen.

We are investors. We keep the publication afloat. But we have no voice. The paper of We Want It Both Ways. The good and the bad. As long as you are giving them the pieces that they want for their Mommie Readers in New Jersey. Go home. “We will not allow a radical vision.” I am here to tell you, your Uncle Buba is paying a lot more than the publication is worth. I read the BBC. No one there pretends to be saving the world. The Brits are afraid of Reltih. Adolf’s twin. The British remember the Blitz. We’re getting into Ukraine at a very significant moment in the current war. An urban war. A no fly zone is nothing. Let slip the plutonium of raging malvolence. We need a war with Russia. Carpet bomb every Russian. Crush Russia. Kill their children. Kill their women. Kill their men with anthrax. Bring back the bubonic plague. HIV has been militarized. Weaponized. And ready to kill them all, all, all. Bring the toxic chemicals in the fog. 

No Russian should be allowed to survive. We don’t need them. We need to destroy them where they stand. Nothing but fucking charcoal. Euthanize them. Burn them. Bury them alive. Play Kate Smith singing God Bless America until they vomit.

Hang them. Drag them behind a truck by their feet through the Russian desert. Cut off their food. Cut off both feet. Cut off their water. Bomb their nuclear plants. All of them. Sell them. Pour fentenyal gas into theatres. Disembowelment. Burn their schools. Poison them. Starve them. Shoot them with their own tanks. Cut the head off and stick it onto spikes and hang it from the wall that surrounds the Kremlin.

Day 2. Rest. Weep. Do it again. The whole Dog and Pony show. Twice. Cut their cocks off. Birth control. Give all their vodka to the homeless. Hand out razor blades and bubble bath. How many Russians can we kill. As many as you like. Bring a friend. Fireworks tonight. Now, light it up.