The Aging Rebel Site Returns

   After about a week of being knocked off the internet The Aging Rebel blog has returned. It is written by someone names Donald Charles Davis, a fellow who sometimes appears on High Dollar cable channels that do what they consider to be hard-hitting documentaries on "outlaw" motorcycle clubs. The History Channel, National Geographic - that level of broadcasting entities. He is not an "unbiased" reporter. He is a biased reporter. The only kind that is actually worth a crap if and when they make their biases crystal clear. Davis's biases seem crystal clear to me, the way I see it he is always going to give the "outlaws" the benefit of the doubt under all circumstances unless he is convinced they are in the wrong - and "wrong" needs to be heavily defined here because, speaking for myself, my definition of wrong is very far removed from the Law's definition of wrong in very very very very very many cases. The person of Don Davis is always very present in his journalism, as is the case with Jim Goad, another journalist I consider worth half a crap. As, say, opposed to Tom Brocaw or Charles Krauthammer or George Will and virtually anyone in the Major Media venues who has made a recognized name for himself via the Real News Public Relations Piece Of Shit Machine. He is the kind of writer that you are always quietly learning something as you read along. "Fairness" hits you square in the face over and over. He is like Fran Leibowitz but not as ugly. With the "major" journalists you know that if you got them into a room one on one they would not have a clue personally about anything they "report" on. They are what John Kobylt calls stenographers. Don Davis is a reporter.

Matthew Broderick On TCM

   There is nothing quite so strange as the apparition of Matthew Broderick on Friday evenings when he presents movies on TCM. He seems barely able to stand upright. He bends and curves in ways that  defy analysis. His speech is the speech of a person plugged into a machine. He drones and murmurs through the words as though each syllable is contracting his testicles into painful reshapings that he is fighting to not let his face reveal. There is no inflection discernible in the constant ramble of words and he appears as one desperate to be sitting down. But stand he must. His suit never seems to fit properly. It always seems to be one designed to be worn by Primo Canera, not by a tiny little Jew. At some point in each presentation he will attempt to put his hands into his trouser pockets. He fails at this as often as he succeds. But when he does fail he does not try again; he leaves one or both hands where he thinks his pockets should have been and he continues on in his anguished monologue apparently trusting that no one will notice. But you do notice and for the next ten or fifteen sentences all you can do is fixate on "what must be the matter with him?" Chewy on the Chelsea Handler show could perform a much better presentation even with a salad bowl filled with fruit on his head.

   Seeing one of these performances you would think that the next day's headlines would be about him. It's that unsettling. It's almost like a global catastrophe. He should be knocking Obama and the Philippine typhoon off Page One and onto page 23. But there is never a word about it the next day. Conspiracy theorists, were they to watch one of these presentations, would stop thinking about the Masons forever and refocus their attention on Matthew Broderick and come up with notions of what might really be going on with him rather than with the Nephilim.

Blog Reaffirmation

   As you who are not ever here know, I have been spending a LOT of time on Facebook for the past few years. I am now sick of it. It has served a purpose though, it has been a daily notebook for my fantastically innovative social and religious and intellectual insights and discoveries and realizations and, as My Dear Sweet Scientology Brothers would say, "cognitions."
   One of the perpetual problems with facebook is that if you say nigger your facebook associates, if they are white, get VERY upset. It's like saying nigger means that you think black people are.....i guess it means that you think they are niggers! And IT TURNS OUT.......I do think black people are niggers.
I guess though that you are not suppose to say nigger. No, that's now quite right: you can say nigger. But other people can't hear you say it. You can say nigger if there are no white people within earshot to hear you. So I guess that's the rule.
   There are no white people within earshot here at this place. There is no-one here at this place. Except me. And I can hear the word nigger and never get upset about it. 

Steve Cook Public Figure, Winner of the First Annual "jjsolarivsyou" Supreme Asshole Award

 

   Steve Cook Public Figure - which is how his Facebook page reads - is a make believe cop who is the announcer on an "anti biker gang" program, or maybe several of them, on one of the cable channels, probably the History channel which is not about history or maybe the National Geographic Channel which is not about American geography.
   Steve Cook Public Figure has a Facebook page on which he proclaims in extremely boring prose, extremely boring facts about himself. Most of the boring fact about himself revolve around his announcing-duties, which he has managed somehow, probably because his audience - cops - are the stupidest species alive .......which he has managed somehow to parlay into a kind of one-man Sons of Anarchy-like make-believe entity devoted to fighting evil while himself being good.
   In other words he's full of shit.
   Steve - I feel I can call him Steve - has the physical appearance of the cookie-cutter Central Casting basic "cop type drone" idiot that now inhabits the American Detective Slot of tax-payer-supported siphons of uselessness. He has a Manly Mustache and he has a Manly Izod Lacoste-type golf shirt knockoff, and he has hairy forearms, always visible, and he has an air of "I know so much more than you, O citizen who foolishly pays me, among them, that you are a fool and I am your master." This attitude seems to work for all cops, of course, but the NRA-Approved pseudo-Christian, rules-the-roost "gang buster" imbecile, all of whom particularly froth against NARCOTICS, which would include anything declared a narcotic by the narcotic department of narcotic discovery.....this level of cop really makes a proper thing of it, maintaining his awesome frowning demeanor 24 hours a day. The only time these men become their more feminine, accomodating-towards-anal-intercourse selves where they would be the catcher for a change, is when they are in the presence of other cops, especially ones beneath them in rank. Then they become loving caring nurturers, the waxy apple-spray of aloofness disappears and they become almost childlike. New eager MEN sit before them in silent studentcy and if the moon is right and the beer is flowing perhaps a secret handjob or a blowjob can ensue between us two warriors for freedom and justice who are clueless about both.
  Steve Cook Public Figure, like all American cops, attacks only his fellow citizens. But Steve takes it a step further - which has won him the love of American cops nationwide - and specializes in attacking the most American of the remaining American citizens, and this would be the members of what he would call motorcycle gangs.
   Cookoo describes motorcycle gangs as "people who wear letters and drawings on their clothes on the back part." This is not his stated definition, it is my stating of what he actually believes, based on his presentations: which include a table in front of him on which, show-and-tell style, or like a bake sale at the church festival, he presents clothes. Clothes that are stolen that he thinks are now his because Steve, remember, thinks he is a cop, and cops think everything of yours can easily become theirs just by taking it. This is how cops think. Even motorcycle gangs do not think like this. If a member of a motorcycle gang steals something, he never assumes it is really his. He knows it's still yours and that he has stolen it. Cops, being worse gang people than what they think are gang people, cops think that everything that you own you only own because a cop has decided for one reason or another not to take it from you yet. So you own it. But when he takes it you will no longer own it. He will. Or one of his Public Servant brothers will. But you won't. You were just moving it around until it's real owner took it from you. This is how cops think. Even the Mafia doesn't think this way. They know your stuff is yours and that they stole it. And that if you come looking for it, you have a good reason to. Cops are not capable of this kind of honesty or intelligence. They think your stuff is their stuff once they take it.
   Steve lays out his clothing and then has the staring obtuse idiotic recruits look at the clothing and Steve then tells them that "If you see people wearing clothing that looks like this they are the enemy!"
Muslims are not the enemy, illegal aliens invading the USA are not the enemy, the cops themselves are not the enemy, no, people wearing clothing like this are the enemy.
   This is the brain of an idiot in full-bore-idiot operation operating. This is an example of it in case your children ever ask you "Can you give me an example of absolute high-gear, full-throttle idiotness?" Steve Cook Warning cops about clothing is a great example of it to give to them.
   Steve likes to pose with scantily clad young women. He never looks happy doing this. He looks like he would rather be flaying them in his cellar deep beneath a mountain somewhere in Canada 500 miles from the nearest person who could hear the screaming.
   Steve is also convinced he can beat up any biker alive. He demonstrates this by standing in front of Bike-club-owned property that is at the moment uninhabited and posing Master-like and then posting on Steve Cook Public Figure remarks to the effect that, yeah, it's a good thing they are not there, yeah, they BETTER run away cause Steve, here, is the master now, that's right, pilgrim, you heard me, bucko, and be glad i'm in a good mood and not riled up otherwise I would just start looking for you instead of relaxing here on your property that I am the Master of.
   Steve, in other words, is a stupid asshole idiot even for Steve. Steve in other words is a pathetic cowardly Muslim-like blowhard that is so common in the ranks of our devoted public servants. Except most of them don't have facebook pages challenging their betters to fistfights like this idiot does.
   Steve is, what is called by children all over the world, "asking for it." He's classic. Like all clinically depressed sociopaths what he wants is to be put out of his misery. What his personal misery is, I am sure it's a boring one, one that any other person could work-through without difficulty by the time they were 5, but Steve does not look like the resilient type. He looks like a fucking douchebag full of smelly pussy juice type. He is the Thomas Kinkade of charlatan do-gooders. And like thomas Kinkade, when he is gone he will not be missed. Because he was not really there in the first place.