Christopher King

Here's my airplane story.

In the spring of 2005, I flew from New York to Orlando for the Fringe Festival. During the return flight to New York, the airplane had nearly reached cruising altitude when I heard two distinct, loud voices in the middle of my head. They spoke at the same time and with a tone of urgency. Though they spoke at the same time, I could understand them perfectly. They said, "There is something wrong with this plane," and "Something is going to happen now."

Just a split second thereafter, there was a loud "bang!" sound and the plane lurched and shook and one of the engines let out a hellish screaming noise. I thought the world was ending.

I am aware that the human brain can re-order events to make it appear to the conscious mind that one event preceded another when it actually may have followed it. So those voices could have been my own thoughts that were generated after the event, but that were resequenced by my brain in order to reduce trauma.

But those did not sound like thoughts. They were loud, human voices that I could hear inside my head. And one of them spoke of the future: "Something is going to happen now." So I don't think that they were my own resequenced thoughts.

That's my airplane story. I have not flown since, though perhaps I will.

That was a freaky experience and this story is completely true.

Do you remember that story I told you about when I quit the liquidation store job and I roamed around the house spitting mad? The wire that held the mirror up on the nail on the bathroom had become unwound and the mirror crashed to the floor.

And just this past Monday, at about noon, I was working outside. I was in an emotionally agitated state because I was contemplating moving out of my foreclosed house and I heard a "boom!" sound. It sounded like a window getting smashed. I looked all around the house and then I saw that one of the garage windows had been blown out. That window was on the opposite side of the garage from where I was working on my trailer. The glass blew outward, onto the lawn. I looked and looked and could find nothing that might have hit the window. The window just exploded, untouched.

True story. Welcome to my world.

Oh. Is it Iran now?

For the sake of argument, let's assume that they have the ability to make the fissile material and that they desire to construct a weapon.

What's it matter? Iran never piloted drones into the Twin Towers or dismantled lawful government or hired foreign mercenaries to patrol American streets.

This world has gone mad.

I'll cop to being a little nutty sometimes. I learned that a friend who would watch me perform in Orlando said to a friend of hers, "Chris is a bit out there. ...But at least he's doing something with it!"

But you people's madness is in no way productive.

And I love how people call me crazy. My ability to reason gets me out of a lot of perceptual jams. For example, I have reasoned that my material started going out on some newswire or something four years ago, that it goes all over the world, and that there is some kind of message board wherein everyone has agreed to shun me for some unexplained reason.

So my capacity for rational thought meets and exceeds most people's.

Things feel really spooky around here. I can smell the doom. Something really bad is going to happen soon in this country.

People say, "Don't you care about losing your house?" My answer is 'no,' which seems crazy to them. I don't care because my losing my house is the least of anyone's concerns right now.

I can sense danger. I always somehow knew when to leave a party. I could always sense when the cops were going to show up.

I have really got the willies right now.

Something is going to happen.

I like my new house.

It is a 1969, $150 trailer. You hook it up to a truck and pull it to where you live now.

I've fixed it up. I resealed the windows and shored up some walls and put in some insulation. It's my confirmed bachelor pad. It's my swinger's love dojo.

I have adorned it with mounted pheasants and my scented candles and precious, delightful little knick knacks.

It is also my communications command center. I have my shortwave transceiver all hooked up, ready to go, ready for the end of the world. The radio has "modifications." It's not legal for use in the U.S. (Shhh. Keep it under your hat. I don't want to get in any trouble.)

The trailer has propane appliances and propane heat. But I have installed my pellet stove. A pellet stove is essentially a wood stove, an electronically controlled stove that burns wood pellets the size of rabbit food. The stove pipe goes out the back and up to the sky.

I like my new house. It's like the Beverly Hillbillies meets Mad Max.

I've been kookie now for fifteen years.

And that is why I am uniquely qualified to propound upon current events with ultimate authority.

Like the man said, "When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro."

So pay attention to my every ex cathedra pronouncement.

I shall favor you with my essence.

I will remind you that this APF operates--

--with no legal authority whatsoever. Their only authority is force. Those with the guns make the rules. It would seem obvious.

If you do not own guns, you will want to buy some immediately. You *will* be defending yourself. The government has fallen. No one will defend you. Your defense is your own responsibilty.

I suggest a shotgun like a Mossberg 500, some 12-gauge birdshot shells, some buckshot shells, and some slugs. Also a rifle, caliber .223 or 7.62mm. A Russian SKS is a fine choice. Inexpensive and durable. Also a handgun, caliber .45 or .40. I like the Smith and Wesson Sigma series because they're inexpensive, durable, and perfectly reasonably accurate.

Your world is now over. Bankers have purchased your government and it will be used against you. These bankers will liquidate their political adversaries.

The law is gone. Conduct yourselves righteously and confident in the knowledge that you are defending yourself, your children, and the American way of life from criminals.

The republic has fallen and the country is gone.

If law is to be defined anew, then let decent men define it. (That's one of my favorite quotes of my own.)

So define it.

Your society is now over.

http://www.prisonplanet.com/paramilitary-force-to-boss-internment-camp-in-montana.html

This American Police Force (APF) in Hardin, Montana is apparently staffed by foreign paramilitary mercenaries. They're driving around in black SUV's with stickers on the side that say "Hardin Police." (Hardin does not have a police department.)

This APF also appears to be running the Two Rivers detention facility, which is billed as being for immigration emergencies and, uh, "other purposes."

It's that "other purposes" part that I'm concerned about. It's a concentration camp, capable of holding entire families. In it, children will be raped, gruesome medical experiments will be performed, and people will be executed.

"Chris, you're so kookie. Those things don't happen here; this is America."

So?

To my journalist friends at Douche Paper, I'd like to say that the time for covering your 9-11 material is now past. (When I say that you must do a thing within a certain time frame, that's what I mean. I'm clairvoyant or something. I can see past the nose on my face.) When the hammer falls very soon --likely coincident with a swine flu "outbreak," an attack on Iran, and a terriss "attack" on an American city, martial law will be declared and all pretense to the rule of law will disappear. At that time, if you open your mouth in protest, you will be disappeared, you will be tortured, and you will be killed.

That is your future. Your world is now over.

The moral cowardice in this land is astounding.

...But I'm just kookie.

I can sense an imminent collision with The Man.

And I know how it ends: with me getting locked up.

By now, everyone here understands that the United States was conquered by the Pentagon, on behalf of businessmen, and aided and abetted by politicians and the print and television news media.

The country is gone. It has been conquered, as sure as if Soviet tanks had rumbled down the street.

When I decided to go "all in" with the 9-11 material five years ago, I never thought it would turn out like this. I figured that all I had to do was to argue the case and justice would win out, that powerful forces in government and the news media would save the day.

But that is not to be.

... And since that is not to be, I have wagered everything playing to you all. It was a bet that has cost me everything and gotten me nothing.

I'm not angry and I'm not whining. I feel something that I'm having difficulty articulating, that's all.

I went to a wedding reception once. There was a minor traffic accident in the parking lot involving an elderly man who needed to be checked out at the hospital. So I waited with him and attended to him until the ambulance came.

When I had been relieved of my post by the paramedics, I went inside to the party. I was hungry and I wanted some of that steak dinner or whatever it was that was the meal.

There was none left. While I was outside, everyone had had their seconds and thirds already. They'd picked over everything. And there was nothing left for me.

While it is no one's responsibilty here to see that I be attended to, I feel like I've been cheated. While I was working, everyone got theirs. But I didn't get mine.

I can't even conceptualize that this is happening. I can't figure out how it could be that I spent six years working, and lost every last thing I had, only to find that everyone spent that time getting theirs.

I truly do feel like I'm living in the Twilight Zone because it seems to go against the basic laws of the universe to work so hard, in such good faith, sparing no expense, all to see that everyone has gotten theirs --with not a single morsel or a single kind word or wilted flower for me.

That's not how it's supposed to work.

That confusion, that shattering of my notion of the rewards of laboring for the greater good, that is what is frightening to me. It's like my original, lifelong confusion about people has been confirmed: "Chris, you are doomed to fail at your efforts at communing with our species. Nothing you do works. There will always be a disconnect."

I worked so hard to fix the world, I gave every last thing I had, and I got absolutely nothing --not even a kind word.

...But everyone got theirs. They ate a hearty meal and they're up on the dance floor.

And I got nothing. No one will even speak to me.

Self-indulgent, yes. But that's how I feel. I feel abandoned but useful.

So when I wind up in prison, all the FBI agents and the Butter Bars and the newsmen can say, "I got mine. Chris got nothing. Chris got less than nothing."

So I want you all to take another look at that photo of the 747 engine on Murray Street. If you work in government or the news media or the military, I want you to say to yourself, "That's my material. And because I refused to cover my material, Chris is forever to be judged outside the proper context. The righteousness of his actions will never be known --because the larger context of national calamity is not known. And that is why Chris has nothing, why he is a nonperson, why he will be incarcerated, and why his life is over. I got mine."

Well alright, then.

We'll just push the schedule back a little bit and try again:

"2010 is the year that good things happen for me."

I hereby rename my show.

I'm going to try to get this jackknifed freight train back on track.

I have two target audiences: the Future People and the Present People. Of the latter, there is one audience member here: me. I am the only one in this room who has shouldered his responsibilities in the performer/audience, rights-and-responsibilities equation.

If you are reading this on or about its date of publication, you do not exist in my equation. Your thoughts and feelings are not relevant here. Harsh? Yup. But as I've said, you'd be surprised just how attentive I can be to my audience's special emotional needs when they're buying their tickets.

It is for the Future People that I work. I honor them and prize them. And I rename my show in dedication to them. I call it...

FIGHT FOR THE FUTURE PEOPLE

[It's a play on the X-Files tagline, "Fight the Future."]

I was thinking today about the Jew material.

I finally understand now what I'm doing. I made the conscious decision several years ago not to censor myself. When I went into stand-up, a friend advised me, "Tell it from the heart and let it all hang out."

And I have. And it is to that advice that I attribute my success at the craft.

TV news people and newspaper columnists have a job. Their job is to intellectually process information. They take the topics of the day, they compare and contrast, and out pops a finished intellectual product. They process information intellectually.

I, as a comedian, have a different job. My job is to process perhaps that very same information, but emotionally. Out pops a freshly minted tirade.

So by design, I am in the business of delivering an emotion-laden product, with the constructive goal in mind of somehow advancing my audience's emotional understanding of the issues.

I have noticed that those topics which I chew over and over and over again tend to be those topics which have some emotional meaning for me. I will keep talking about a thing until the information has been completely processed.

If I can't move on from a topic, it is because it has high emotional meaning for me and because I cannot figure out a way to process it.

Israeli, i.e. right-wing Super Jew, nutjob FREAK involvement in 9-11 feels like the ultimate betrayal to me. To be stabbed in the back by a people whom I once so highly esteemed constitutes very high personal emotional involvement in the issue.

So when I go on one of my patented Jew Beating Sprees in Thunderdome, it's because I'm having trouble processing this information.

As a performer, I do not like to alienate entire segments of my audience. And as a person, I do not like to leave people with the idea that I dislike them. So keep this in mind: If you are Jewish and I'm on one of my Jew Jags, say this to yourself: "Chris loves me with all his heart, more than I can possibly know. He's just having trouble processing this information. He'll buy me a beer after the show."

Fair enough?

"Mom and Dad?"

"I'd like to introduce you to my new boyfriend, Chris. As you can see, he's a real catch. He's forty-two, he's got a droopy eye, and he works at a gas station. ...What's that? What's your twenty-five-year-old son see in him? Don't know! He lives in a trailer and lost everything he had, pursuing some asinine quest to save my species from annihilating itself. But he assures me that it's all good because he's America's Senior Hobbyist Comedian inside his mind, performing for his mathematically derived audience. And because no one does anything around here, not least of all Governor James Douglas of Vermont, those tickets never went away, so Chris was supposed to show up in traffic court, which he could not even theoretically do, because doing so would have caused his territorially inspecific political union known as United Sovereigns of America to extinguish itself. And what the visionary geniuses in his audience don't understand --and won't understand until it finally dawns on them that that E-3B lazily flying around the Twin Towers on 9-11 and the National Guard's use of LRAD acoustic weapons on peaceful demonstrators during the recent G20 summit mean exactly what they seem to mean, that being that the Department of Defense has conquered the nation on behalf of its foreign banker paymasters-- what the visionary geniuses in his audience don't understand is that USov is the only thing standing between them and all the predatory territorially inspecific political unions in the world. So Chris can't even theoretically set foot in a foreign court without consigning the Future People to eternal slavery within a dehumanizing system of corporatist neofeudalism. So because he can't submit to a foreign court, that means that someone will arrest him. And when Chris tells the judge, 'Your Honor, I'm sorry; you don't legally exist, due to your jurisdiction's cooperation with a jurisdiction that murders its own citizens, a definitional impossibility for a body politic, causing that jurisdiction to cease to exist in law, as well as causing the extinguishment of all jurisdictions which work with it,' the judge will throw him in jail --all because Chris is defending our freedom --all without selling even a single ticket. And then the other comedians --the ones who star in each other's completely non-funny movies and consider themselves to be just the height of edginess-- will pick over his act, steal what they can use, and leave Chris with the dregs. It's the New Golden Age of Comedy! It's how comedy is done these days! So I'd like you to meet my penniless, incarcerated boyfriend! Isn't he a great catch? And people wonder why he's so pissed off all the time!"

I'd like to take a moment--

--to wish everyone a happy Yom Kippur.

My Wikipedia search tells me that Yom Kippur is a day of feasting, singing, and celebration of the mitzvah and everything.

From the Christian's warp-drive perspective, I'd like to offer some technical advice to your developing culture.

Some things to keep in mind:

--It's not okay to fly planes into buildings, even if it is to glorify your pagan egregore god.
--It's not okay to fry your own subhuman pigs for the sin of rejecting the authority of the Talmud.
--The hair of a white dog does not actually have magical powers.
--If two women are sitting on opposite sides of a road facing each other, that does not mean that they are witches.
--It's okay to eat pork. Eat all you want; it's delicious and good for you. It doesn't make the sun go away.
--It is not okay to nullify oaths in your heart.
--The property of a Gentile is not the property of a Jew.
--It is not okay to stab the am ha'aretz, even on the Day of Atonement.
--One clan is not better than another. You are in no way 'chosen.' This belief is a disgusting psychic illness, as misguided as chanting over toenail clippings and bowing down to a pile of rocks.
--Lying with a nine-year-old boy or three-year-old girl is just sick.
--It's not okay to lie to, steal from, and trick members of other gaming groups. Treat your neighbor as you would be treated.
--Dog shit does not make good spaceship fuel.
--It's not okay to regard all the Jews in Poland as worth less than one pig in Palestine.
--Contrary to what some Rabbis think, there was nothing good about Adolph Hitler. He was an evil man. Stop celebrating him as the Jews' Avenging Angel.
--Amalek is not hiding inside the Netflix mailer. Don't worry; he's not going to spring right out and ruin Hannukah for everyone.
--It's not okay to punish our Lord and Savior, Chris King, for pointing out that maybe we've got some theological, uh, errors that caused us to teleport ourselves to the Year 500. It's not Chris' fault. This is a bit like Lynndie England --that darling little pixie-- blaming the news media for all the hubbub surrounding the Abu Ghraib scandal.
--Yours is the Affirmative Action Baby of religions. The rest of us are getting impatient with your theological bumbling. We've cut you a lot of slack over the years because everyone hates you so much and just wants to make handbags out of you. But tighten it up over there already. And stop ruining everything with your withering death touch.

Aside from those few advisories from someone with an advanced perspective, I'd say you're well on your way to joining the Federation of Human Cultures. You'll be setting aside your bones and piles of rocks in no time!

Turn from your pagan bone waving! Take your rightful place among the great Abrahamic religions! Soon, you too can be as esteemed as your Christian and Muslim brothers! Come on, join the party! Stop playing with your toes and finger-painting with dog shit!

So happy Yom Kippur, everyone! Go easy during the pie-eating contest!

I'd like to take a moment--

--to wish everyone a happy Yom Kippur.

My Wikipedia search tells me that Yom Kippur is a day of feasting, singing, and celebration of the mitzvah and everything.

From the Christian's warp-drive perspective, I'd like to offer some technical advice to your developing culture.

Some things to keep in mind:

--It's not okay to fly planes into buildings, even if it is to glorify your pagan egregore god.
--It's not okay to fry your own subhuman pigs for the sin of rejecting the authority of the Talmud.
--The hair of a white dog does not actually have magical powers.
--If two women are sitting on opposite sides of a road facing each other, that does not mean that they are witches.
--It's okay to eat pork. Eat all you want; it's delicious and good for you. It won't make the sun go away.
--It is not okay to nullify oaths in your heart.
--The property of a Gentile is not the property of a Jew.
--It is not okay to stab the am ha'aretz, even on the Day of Atonement.
--One clan is not better than another. You are in no way 'chosen.' This belief is a disgusting supremacist illness, as misguided as chanting over toenail clippings and bowing down to a pile of rocks.
--Lying with a nine-year-old boy or three-year-old girl is just sick.
--It's not okay to lie to, steal from, and trick members of other gaming groups. Treat your neighbor as you would be treated.
--Dog shit does not make good spaceship fuel.
--It's not okay to regard all the Jews in Poland as worth less than one pig in Palestine.
--Contrary to what some Rabbis think, there was nothing good about Adolph Hitler. He was an evil man. Stop celebrating him as the Jews' Avenging Angel.
--Amalek is not hiding inside the Netflix mailer. Don't worry; he's not going to spring right out and ruin Hannukah for everyone.
--It's not okay to punish our Lord and Savior, Chris King, for pointing out that maybe we've got some theological, uh, errors that caused us to teleport ourselves to the Year 500. It's not Chris' fault. This is a bit like Lynndie England --that darling little pixie-- blaming the news media for all the hubbub surrounding the Abu Ghraib scandal.
--Yours is the Affirmative Action Baby of religions. The rest of us are getting impatient with your theological bumbling. We've cut you a lot of slack over the years because everyone hates you so much and just wants to make handbags out of you. But tighten it up over there already. And stop ruining everything with your withering death touch.

Aside from those few advisories from someone with an advanced perspective, I'd say you're well on your way to joining the Federation of Human Cultures. You'll be setting aside your bones and piles of rocks in no time!

Turn from your pagan bone waving! Take your rightful place among the great Abrahamic religions! Soon, you too can be as esteemed as your Christian and Muslim brothers! Come on, join the party! Stop playing with your toes and finger-painting with dog shit!

So happy Yom Kippur, everyone! And go easy during the pie-eating contest!

I hate you and I hate your ass face.

Did we get rid of all the drooling, shuffling, lurching, typhus-trailing losers?

Good. All losers do what you do best: get lost.

Laptop smashed. Handheld Ipaq. Tiny keyboard on screen. Stylus. Small words. Not poetry. Stop.

New rules:

Following people not allowed here:

--losers
--parasites
--shoplifters
--thieves
--liars
--closet-case homosexuals
--guys with girlfriends who pretend not to know my name in public, but who corner me at the gas station and ask if we can have sex together. Answer: 'no.'

New show title: "LoserBGon"

New home: Trailer, 16ft, 1969, working propane appliances, plumbing, not much work needed. $150.

Will post infrequently. Does anyone here deserve better? No. Can't complain about quality of shoplifted product.

No comedy career. Waste of time. 99% of audience gone. Good. Losers.

To eighteen decent people in audience: "I won't leave you."

All thieves, soul-suckers: get lost.

LoserBGon.

The only way I can prevent myself from continuing this asinine pursuit is to destroy my laptop computer.

And that is precisely what I am going to do. After I post this, I am going to take this computer outside and smash it on the pavement.

And I will finally be rid of you people and I can move on with my life.

I am worse off for knowing you. I regret ever doing this and I will not continue.

This waste of my time is now over.

I'm not even sure it's possible to do "comedy" in my present state of mind.

And if there is one apology I owe to my audience it is that I often fail to entertain them. That is because of my present emotional state. And instead of entertaining them, I turn nasty and mean.

Never in my most deranged, worst-case scenarios did I think that it would turn out like this. Can you even conceive of the amount of effort it takes to learn how to do a one-hour stand-up comedy show, and to learn how to do it in six months?

Can you even conceptualize the amount of effort I have put into spinning my various plates over the past six years?

And I got nothing. Not even a single word of acknowledgment.

And can you even conceptualize the amount of stress I've been under during the past four years as I cover dangerous material? My mind is shot.

I get to cover the New York Times' own material for them, about how their friends got fried. And that's not Vermonter material; that's New Yorker material.

At every last turn over the past six years, I have been cheated. Every last thing that was rightfully mine was taken from me --all as I do everyone else's work for them.

When you put on a show, you know that there will be an investment. You figure, "Well, it'll cost me two thousand dollars to rent the space. If I can fill half the seats for five nights, I'll make my money back. Everything on top of that is my pay for the week."

So you sign the contract to rent the room and you work and work and practice your craft and you put up your posters. And opening night comes. ...and you fill your seats! You have met your goal! It's a success!

...except it's really not. You realize that you're saddled with the biggest bunch of losers ever to wander in off the street. They're happy to claim the rights of an audience, but they won't shoulder the responsibilities. They know full well that it's not a free show. They are well aware that buying tickets is how the model works. They know that the artist has put it all on the line to put on a successful show. They know full that the artist will not be able to eat if they do not buy their tickets. ...which they will not do, despite knowing full well that that's how the revenue model works.

I certainly hope that the news media don't think that they'll ever make a single dime on the internet, because they won't. I was mistaken: information does want to be free. The internet is a place where parasitic losers think that they have the right to drain the life force from content providers.

My audience is comprised exclusively of thieves. There is not a single bit of honor among them. My audience is comprised exclusively of losers who would take a look around and steal a newspaper from a malfunctioning newspaper box on the corner.

If you are reading this, know that I regard you as a piece of human waste.

My audience is comprised exclusively of human waste.

My neighbor stopped by the other day to tell me that his family is moving across town. He said, "I'm renting the house to my cousin Frank. He's a nice guy, so you'll get along fine."

I said, "It makes no difference because I'm moving too."

"Really? Are you selling your house or renting it out?"

"Neither. I don't own the house anymore. It's in foreclosure." And it's in foreclosure not through any fault of my own because I shouldered my responsibilities. See, I'm not a parasitic loser like everyone else around here.

He said, "Why don't you talk to your brother? Maybe he can buy the hou--"

"--Because I don't care. I truly don't care." And I continued, "It's like you're at the traffic-cone slalom course at the driver safety faire at the police department. And you're driving through the slalom course and you hit one of the cones and you go, 'Ooh! Don't hit anymore!' And then you hit another, 'Ow! You're ruining your score, Chris! Careful!' And you hit another couple more and at that point you stop caring. So you get that pissy look on your face and you just hold steady on the wheel and you just plow 'em all down. Grind 'em right into the pavement if that's how it's gonna be."

Success in this life appears not to be theoretically possible. So fuck it. Over the course of forty-two years you try every last possible method of winning for just once. And nothing works.

I am not, by nature, a pessimistic person. I like to laugh. I like to play. But it's difficult to keep your spirits up when every last prize gets stolen from you.

You're all a bunch of geniuses, right? You're all so visionary? You know your I-phone and your Blackberry and your web-enabled cell phone and all that? Those are called "thin clients." Those are designed to interface with remote servers to deliver information to the user.

The original thin client was perhaps the Palm PDA. It was kind of clunky, but it worked. And there was a wireless version that worked with AT&T's cell phone network. And there was a Palm with a built-in barcode scanner, similar to the kind UPS uses.

So back in the olden days, back in the year 2000, I bought myself one each of those and I bought the Software Development Kit and I set about developing software for them. I wrote the entire software package that provided for scanning barcodes and populating a corporate database, either by a wired or wireless method. It was a real achievement, trust me.

And I submitted the entire package up the chain of command at the cable company where I worked. They were a big outfit, with plenty of opportunities at the corporate office for industrious employees.

My employer had a major problem they needed fixed. They could not properly depreciate their assets for tax purposes because they could not uniquely identify and track their installed equipment. They lost tons of money by this failure. So on my own, I identified the problem and I devised a working solution. My only request was that I be given a position overseeing the project. I wanted out of my cable van. I did not want to be stuck in a cable van for the rest of my life, pulling cable and cutting connectors. I wanted to be let inside.

Did I get my promotion? Of course not. The entire project got stolen from me. I never heard a word back except for dismissive remarks about how it would never work and how "this is useless. It doesn't even have a CD-ROM drive in it."

A year later, guess what? Out rolls brand-new, barcode-scanning Palm PDAs for all the cable guys. ...because corporate has decided that we need to uniquely identify the installed equipment for tax depreciation purposes. Mm hmm: The mid-level manager who stole my project got himself a nice promotion and a big, fat raise out of the deal.

Thievery is everywhere. When I went to Orlando last Christmas, a friend of mine said, "I sometimes think [Mister Comedian So and So] is stealing your act. He's becoming Chris King Pop Icon."

Of course he is, because comedians are thieves. And very few of them are funny. Just like journalists, comedians have been talking to themselves. They've been clapping each other on the back about how funny they are and awarding each other Funny Prizes and starring in each other's shitty, completely non-funny movies.

And I know that I'm not doing myself any favors by speaking ill of a guild I only ever wanted to be a member of. I don't care anymore. I'm flipping off the world and driving right down the middle of the slalom course. bup-bup-bup-bup-bup-bup-bup-bup-bup!

I have nothing but utter contempt for my audience. You're nothing but a bunch of thieves, frauds, and losers.

I am not a machine. I am a human. I feel emotion. And my audience's treatment of me has ruined, absolutely ruined my mood, and it has ruined my capacity to even be funny anymore. And I say, "Someone please give me a single word of encouragement. I would be a new man!" But no one can do even this. No one can put themselves out that much to scrawl a simple note and put it in the mail.

Every last thing that was rightfully mine has been stolen from me. I will soon be living in a garden shed because of my loser audience's refusal to shoulder their responsibilities.

If you are reading this, know that I regard you as a piece of human waste.

What a fuckin' dump room this is.

Your world sucks and I am glad I'm not a part of it.

I despise each and every last one of you, without a single, solitary exception.

Oh, good! Just in time: new affair details!

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/

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WASHINGTON — As Congress prepares to consider extending crucial provisions of the USA Patriot Act, civil liberties groups and some Democratic lawmakers are gearing up to press for sweeping changes to surveillance laws.

Skip to next paragraph

Michael Temchine for The New York Times

Senator Christopher S. Bond

Brendan Hoffman/Bloomberg News

Senator Russ Feingold

Both the House and the Senate are set to hold their first committee hearings this week on whether to reauthorize three sections of the Patriot Act that expire at the end of this year. The provisions expanded the power of the F.B.I. to seize records and to eavesdrop on phone calls in the course of a counterterrorism investigation.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/09/20/us/politics/20patriot.html?ref=todayspaper

Since Americans are too stupid to understand words, from now on I will argue with pictures.

Federal authorities arrested a 24-year-old Denver shuttle bus driver and his father on Saturday night, charging them both with making false statements to the government in an ongoing federal terrorism investigation stretching from New York to Colorado to overseas, government officials said.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/09/20/nyregion/20terror.html?_r=1&ref=todayspaper

Here is my rebuttal, in comic book form. (You don't even have to read. Just look at the pictures.)

It's a strange experience watching a city carry on as if were not dead. It's like watching an episode of Twilight Zone. There's this guy who gets hit by a car, and after the commercial break we see him get up and dust himself off and spend the remainder of the twenty-four minutes trying to talk to people.

Your friends spent their final moments scrabbling at the walls and screaming, getting fried in a pagan human sacrifice to glorify Moloch in Larry Silverstein's little urban renewal project.

And the New York Times carries on as if their city were not dead.

There is a way to make your city live again. Will you do this? Of course not; you're New Yorkers: all tough talk, I-phones, Prada handbags, and rivulets of urine. So why the tears when I ridicule your friends' deaths?

I openly mock, diminish, and ridicule your losses.

New York is a dead shit hole.

Oh. There's that little murderer.

Chertoff: 9/11 Truth Is Akin To Holocaust Denial

Prisonplanet.com
Saturday, Sept 19th, 2009

Former Department of Homeland Security Head Michael Chertoff twice described dis-believing in the official 9/11 story as akin to holocaust denial as he was bombarded with 9/11 ‘inside job’ questions from multiple CSpan viewers.

http://www.prisonplanet.com/chertoff-911-truth-is-akin-to-holocaust-denial.html

It's not really necessary to watch the video if you don't want to. It's just here for your convenience.

Michael Chertoff has three nexus points with known terrorists: He was Magdy Elamir's attorney. And Magdy Elamir is the brother of Mohammed el Amir, aka Mohammed Atta, both of whom were involved in a scheme to funnel funds to Osama bin Laden, over which case's curiously lenient disposition Michael Chertoff presided. Michael Chertoff, while he worked at the FBI, also provided for the release of arrested Israelis, including the Five Dancing Israelis who were caught filming the collapse of the Twin Towers, and who later admitted on Israeli television that their "purpose was to document the event."

Michael Chertoff played an instrumental role in 9-11. We know that. And once we know that, we can evaluate his remarks in the video above to see how he is going to minimize any inquiries into the event. His angle is to equate questioning 9-11 with questioning the Holocaust.

He is abusing the memories of his own dead by using his people's own stinking corpses as human shields to keep his ass out of the electric chair. He is dragging a corpse down the street on a string. This is very typical within his community. The Holocaust was the best thing that ever happened to Jews and, trust me, they're gonna get some mileage out of it.

But more than that, he is attempting to extend the protective, sacrosanct aura surrounding the Holocaust to 9-11.

Maxim: Where a thing cannot stand scrutiny, you will attempt to erect a sacrosanct aura around the event, the piercing of which is shouted down as being in bad taste, an affront to the dead. And further, you will lobby jurisdictions to make scrutinizing the event illegal.

Corollary: Whenever someone invokes the "memory of the dead," that is because the event will not stand scrutiny. And further, if a jurisdiction has made scrutinizing an event illegal, that is because the event will not stand scrutiny.

The Holocaust will not stand scrutiny. And it's no longer in bad taste to do some fact checking once you can conclusively prove that Israel played an instrumental role in 9-11. Why, it's permissible these days to lift up someone's yarmulke to check for shoplifted merchandise. No inquiry is off limits these days. That tear-jerking, everyone-hates-us game is over. 9-11 changed everything.

The Holocaust is a fraud. It's the Frauducaust. The Holofraud. The numbers don't work, we have Rabbis actively obstructing the safe passage of Jews from Poland, Rabbi Schneerson thinks Hitler is just a swell guy, and the event was the organizing principle behind the creation of the state of Israel. I guarantee you that I will find active participation of Rabbis in the Shoah.

...and then it's all over. Israel's tear-jerking casus existitioni will evaporate and the unseemly Jewish penchant for considering themselves smarter than everyone else will no longer exist. "Yeah, you people are sooooo smart! Let's see just howww sarcastic I can sound! Why, you're soooo much smarter than everyone else that you zipped around the smartness ball and wound up on the back end of being sooooo much more stupid than everyone else! Real geniuses! You're soooo intelligent that you didn't even know that your own Rabbis fried Uncle Shmuley!"

The Holocaust was a fraud, just like 9-11. They were both false flag events. Neither will stand up to scrutiny. And this is why Michael Chertoff is turning to the tired old Holocaust playbook to keep his ass out of a sling.

It's not going to work.

So we've determined that at least some, if not most or even all, of the Apollo landing photos were faked.

This is my new smoking gun. It is the photo of the lander with the "Earth" in the sky behind it.

The original photo may be found here.

You will see that the meniscus of the Earth is bowed slightly upward. This proves that the sun was slightly just "past" the Earth.

Now. The lander is lighted from above and from the front, as indicated by the shadow cast by the nozzle. No defense can be made about light reflected from the Earth, or from moon suits, or from special space dust on the moon. The lander is quite undeniably lighted from above and in front.

So if the sun is slightly past the earth, and if the earth is past the moon, then how did the sun get back in front of the lander to light it from the front? Hmm?

The photo is a fake and there is no explaining this away. It is not possible to explain this photograph. It is a conclusive, demonstrable fake. Case closed.

So we've established that at least one moon landing photo is a fake. We have established that fabricated photographs play at least some role in the Apollo program.

And I have looked at every last moon landing photograph and I will tell you that I find errors with nearly all of them.

So I know that most or all of the landing photos were faked. The question now becomes, "How were they faked?" Were they real people in space suits cavorting on a sound stage in a hangar somewhere? We know that we had real people in space suits cavorting because we have the videos of guys jumping around on the moon and swinging golf clubs.

But if the photos were taken on a sound stage somewhere, how do I explain something like this, where the lander is way off in the distance?

That would have to be a real big hangar if this is a staged photo. I couldn't resolve that question so I set it aside.

But then I found this. Look closely. This photograph just struck me as odd somehow. There was something wrong with the scale.

The boot print in the foreground is, I suppose, approximately one foot long. And your average space man is six feet tall. That space man --judging by the apparent distance to him, which is tricky to determine-- appears to be shorter than he really ought to be. This is photo AS17-142-21825.

But then I looked at the next photo in the series, AS17-142-21826.

Aside from the obvious shadow errors, there is a glaring mistake that ruins the whole thing. There is an additional boot print that is way bigger than it should be:

So if the presumed boot print is perhaps one foot long, and if the average space man is six feet tall, why does the boot print in the mid-ground appear so large? Was it a monster's foot? Or is the space man smaller than he really should be?

If we were to just look at the boot print in the foreground and the space man in the background, our eyes would tell us that the space man was perhaps, I don't know, fifty feet away. But the problem is that second boot print. And since the terrain between foreground and background appears to be regular --that is, there are no cliffs or buttes from which the camera is looking down upon some distant plain-- then that means that the second boot print is approximately 75% of the way to the space man.

If the second boot print is 75% of the way to the space man, and if the boot print is a presumptive twelve inches long, then the space man is way, way smaller than he should be.

I believe that some of these photographs --the ones that show wide vistas with landers and rovers, vistas that would seem to be too big to be contained on a sound stage-- were made with miniatures: miniature spacemen, miniature rovers and landers, and miniature boot print stampers.

I am ninety percent sure that photograph AS17-142-21826, among others, is a photograph of miniatures.

Did I tell you that I originally wanted to take up stand-up in 1997?

I got the idea in my head that I wanted to give it a shot. So I told a friend about my plan. He just laughed. "Oh, Chris, bless your heart. You wouldn't be any good at it. You laugh at your own jokes."

Of course I do. That's how I know if a thing is funny or not. And one of my primary objectives is to entertain myself. At the gas station, I spend idle moments writing an entire Cuckaville opera. I've already got about twenty stanzas of the Cuckaville song written.

And if I had started my stand-up career in 1997, I'd have a six-year jump on things. And I would have been able to establish myself in the industry without having to cover this shit material.

And the material I deal with is pure shit. There is no other way to describe it. How do you cover 9-11? How is that done? How do you process that kind of toxic waste? What would my life be like if I didn't ever cover the 9-11 material and its attendant issues? Where would I be? Where would I be living?

I sometimes feel like I've been hired to headline at a funeral. "Okay, Jingles, break a leg out there. Now remember: Frank was a loving husband and father who got run over by a cement truck and his guts dragged down the street. And due to his gambling debts, his family is now destitute and have all turned to prostitution. Work all that in, pull everyone back up, swell the music, and leave on a grace note. Now get out there and earn your pay!"

How do you cover this material? I'm all ears.

I'm understanding this now. No one wants to associate himself with me because of my entire body of material, which, upon close inspection, one can see needed to be done in order to sort out that tangled ball of det cord.

If you'll forgive the self-indulgence, why do I have to do this? I didn't make this mess. Why do I have to do this AND get nothing AND sacrifice everything? When does the payoff come in this business?

"Get your shot or get on the bus."

We know that H1N1 is genetically engineered. It is a bioweapon. And though I can't find the news item at this moment, I seem to recall that the World Health Organization recently plainly stated that either it or vaccine companies routinely release --what did they call them? Virus analogues?-- into the human population. The vaccine companies, with the knowledge of governments, just spread viruses in some form in order to achieve some publicly stated end having something to do with accelerating vaccine development --which would sound to the average person to be a good thing. The point is, we have vaccine manufacturers releasing bioagents into the population and then, conveniently enough, providing the vaccine for the closely related real virus. That admission is just one step away from the admission that they deliberately infect the population with viruses.

Whether there is an organic --that is, naturally occurring-- H1N1 outbreak this fall or winter, I assure you that certain populations will be artificially seeded with the virus. Certain American college populations are already infected with H1N1. Whether this was organic or artificial, I cannot know, though it is supremely easy to disperse a viral agent just by driving around town and pumping it out of a hole in the trunk of a car.

There are whispers on the wind about government databases for recording the names of those who receive the vaccine during any upcoming mass inoculation program at participating health centers.

And we have the man in the video above who claims some knowledge of wristbands with RFID capabilities. This would make perfect sense if someone wanted to uniquely identify the entire population of a country. It's like tagging a cow's ear. And there are people in this world who regard you as their livestock.

It would make perfect sense to engineer an H1N1 outbreak and then, pursuant to World Health Organization treaties to which the US is a party, to activate a collection of legal mechanisms in response to any health threat. We know that WHO has already declared a Stage Six H1N1 threat. This is odd since H1N1 really has caused very few deaths and since we know that it is genetically engineered.

So H1N1 will be used for something. I suspect that the population will be seeded with it, special executive-branch authorities will be invoked, and martial law will be declared. You'll see troops in the streets, you'll be stopped at checkpoints to see that you have received the "helpful" wristband, and if you have not, you will be invited to submit to inoculation on the spot. And if you refuse, maybe you'll be herded onto a bus and to an internment camp, where the "troublemakers" go.

And any such rumored wristband would be a very effective, permanent identification system, without which you may not buy, sell, or travel. Maybe the purpose of any H1N1 outbreak is just to get everyone to wear a wristband and to drop the hammer of martial law. And the biothreat will never go away. It will just be one Maslow Threat after another.

Take no vaccine. It's poison, for reasons I have already made clear.

Law enforcement and military personnel are training to set up checkpoints in order to catch people who refuse to take the swine flu vaccination according to whistle blowers, while health authorities are laying the groundwork for a mass vaccination campaign by warning that serious and potentially deadly health problems will be blamed on the H1N1 vaccine.

In a You Tube video, a woman describing herself as a soldier explains how she was part of a drill in California centered around setting up roadblocks and checkpoints so authorities could check who has received the swine flu vaccine. Those who have had the shots will be fitted with an RFID bracelet so they can be tracked. Those who have not taken the shot will be offered it there and then and if they still refuse, will be carted off to an internment camp, according to the woman.

Watch the clip.

...

Former Kansas state trooper Greg Evensen underscored this claim back in July. “Have you been made aware of the massive roadblock plans to stop all travelers for a vaccine bracelet (stainless steel band with a micro-chip on board) that will force you to take the shot?” Evensen wrote on July 29. “Refuse it? You will be placed on a prison bus and taken to a quarantine camp. What will you do when your children are NOT allowed into school without the shot? What will you do when you are not allowed into the workplace without the vaccine paperwork? Buy groceries? Go to the bank? Shop anywhere?? Get on a plane, bus or train? Use the toilet in the mall? Nope. Police officers will become loathed, feared, despised and remembered for their ‘official’ duties.”

Mr. Evensen made the following comment at an event in West Virginia:

http://www.prisonplanet.com/police-and-military-train-to-intern-swine-flu-vaccine-refusniks.html

What would Bill do?

Bill Hicks. Someone I wish I could have known. "Bill would know what to do," I would reassure myself now and again over the past five years. "What would Bill do?"

To "do" --unless we want to be ineffectual-- implies an action appropriate to a given situation. Fine. So what's the situation? First, he would identify that situation.

The situation is that humanity has reached the point where its technological development outstrips the species' ability to use it wisely. Humanity faces its own annihilation. It is enslaving itself and murdering itself. Humanity is its own worst enemy.

Humans are apes with cell phones and bioweapons.

That statement does not imply that humans are nothing else, conducting nothing else. The human brain has the ability to couple with informational beings existing elsewhere. Humor me.

But the human brain seems pre-wired to hold certain magical beliefs, one of them being an inclination to behold gods and monsters everywhere. Potentates and enemies, under every rock. From the moment he is born free, a man is programmed to yoke himself to a power in destroying the Other.

But everyone is another's Other, isn't he?

"Thou shalt have no other gods before me."

"...none of those gods you see under every rock, you stupid ape."

This world is run by a class of apes who've seized upon not a bone to worship, or a pile of rocks... ...nor the moon... but the sun! This world is run by members of an Egyptian sun-god death cult. They celebrate the Babylonian Mysteries, in the various forms it took as it spread from Egypt so long ago.

They have an alliance among their political unions now. Their purpose is to glorify their god and to prepare his seat. They glorify him with blood. Human sacrifices. Every last war during the Twentieth Century served only one architectural purpose to these Luciferians, and that was the spilling of human blood.

You live inside a gigantic lie, a stage show, whose purpose is to bring about your death. That's all. It is highly unlikely that any particular person can even identify the stage show by which he has become enchanted, much less can he prescribe what should be done in countering it.

These Luciferians have attacked you and they dismantled your government. You are naked and alone. The wolves have circled and there is no one to defend you. Those who would call themselves warriors quit their posts long ago.

If some among us are unsuccessful in altering the course of events, you will never again know anything but soul-crushing misery. Through the police state you have erected, you will be harnessed, you will be forcibly poisoned into submission, and when you have served your purpose, you will be executed. To these... creatures... you are just a human resource.

That is the future of humanity. The world as you have known it is over.

"But what would Bill do?"

Bill, I suspect, would fight fire with fire. Bill would devise an illusion of his own and carry it out, fighting for those who cannot even see the enemies arrayed around them. He would press on in full knowledge that if he fails, he will be arrested, tortured, and killed.

Bill was a good man. I can see it in his eyes. And I would be like Bill. That is what I decided.

...And so I fight. ...in that same full knowledge. ...under the conceit perhaps that I can hear Bill's voice.

As I risk death in fighting for those who will not even see, you will not question my methods.

... ... ... ... Do you understand me?