|This is almost exactly ‘Puter’s beloved
2001 Nissan Pathfinder, which really has
very little to do with the point of this post.
‘Puter’s not a car guy. It’s not that ‘Puter doesn’t like cars, it’s just that he’s not the type that needs the latest, coolest, newest, fastest, cleanest, most rust-free car on the road. ‘Puter doesn’t derive his self-worth from his possessions, he derives his self-worth from his ability to drink Czar under the table. But that’s a story for another day.
You’re probably reading this and wondering if ‘Puter’s finally caught the express train to crazy town. What do cars, Elvis Costello, Nostradamus and England have to do with one another? Well, pull up a piece of the velour sectional down in ‘Puter’s Rumpus Room, grab a Courvoisier & Castrol from Czar’s leather padded wet bar, bathe in the warm glow of the lava lamp (Mandy makes them with actual lava now) and listen up.
‘Puter drove a beat up 2001 Nissan Pathfinder until late last year when his company insisted he sell it.* ‘Puter didn’t want to part with the car, and had been staving off the inevitable for several years. ‘Puter believes in driving cars until they die, and it’s awfully tough to kill a Nissan. Unfortunately for ‘Puter, New York’s liberal application of road salt during Upstate’s 14 month winters left the Nissan more rust than metal. ‘Puter’s Nissan was unlikely to pass inspection again. But ‘Puter still clung to the Nissan, mostly because its six disc Bose CD system ate his 6 go-to albums.
In no particular order, those albums were by the following artists: Run-DMC; Elvis Costello; Frank Sinatra; London Symphony Orchestra (Orff’s Carmina Burana); Green Day; and Bruce Springsteen. ‘Puter’s mechanic, when asked to retrieve the jammed discs, told ‘Puter he’d be better off buying new discs than paying him to pry apart the sound system, destroying the radio and the only valuable part of the vehicle. So, when the company sold ‘Puter’s Nissan, the discs went with it.
|Elvis Costello and the Attractions tell
Lorne Michaels, NBC to go eff
themselves, launching into the banned
anthem, Radio, Radio.
‘Puter’s birthday was last week, 18 May to be precise. His family thoughtfully replaced each disc that the Nissan ate. Among them was ‘Puter’s beloved Elvis Costello’s greatest hits CD. ‘Puter’s two favorite tracks are Radio, Radio and Oliver’s Army. This morning, ‘Puter popped the disc into his new vehicle’s CD player (only a single disc, and not a Bose, dammit) and sang along like a giant goober to his favorite songs, attracting bemused stares from fellow commuters.
While listening to Oliver’s Army, which Mr. Costello released on his Armed Forces LP on 2 February 1979, ‘Puter was astounded by his prescient lyrics. Although written as an anti-occupation anthem, ‘Puter noted that London circa 1979 presented clear signals of the forthcoming difficulties with unassimilated Muslim immigrants and unending overseas military adventures. Here are the lyrics from the bridge that caught ‘Puter’s attention:
Hong Kong is up for grabs
London is full of Arabs
We could be in Palestine
Overrun by a Chinese line
With the boys from the Mersey and the Thames and the Tyne**
The Empire is falling apart. China wants Hong Kong back. the Empire’s far-flung colonies are exporting dark-skinned, Muslim foreigners to London where they’re taking the lower class’ jobs. The British Army, filled with jobless lower class kids living near River Mersey (Liverpool), River Thames (London’s seedier sections) and River Tyne (Newcastle, Edinburgh) is overextended, present in Israel and Korea’s DMZ. It’s madness and chaos.
Mr. Costello wrote about the British Empire’s decay way back in 1979. His line about London filled with Arabs wasn’t a critique of Islamic terrorism, but it was a recognition that England’s immigrant population (Pakistanis, Somalis, Indians, etc.) had largely refused to assimilate. It’s this failure to assimilate that caused Mr. Costello to take note. After all, had the Arabs assimilated, they’d be just another Londoner, not one of the Arabs filling London.
|Political correctness’ end results are always
the same, whether modern accommodation
of Islamic fundamentalism or Europe’s 1930s
accommodation of Nazism.
And it’s not gotten a bit better. Yesterday, two of those Arabs filling London took it on themselves to slaughter a British military member on a crowded street, in broad daylight, with butcher’s knives, while screaming “Allahu akbar!” and mugging for the ubiquitous cell phone cameras of the onlookers. It took armed police 20 minutes to arrive on scene after the first 999 calls came in, during which time the Somali Muslims finished their slaughter and remained on scene to take credit, apparently unhindered by London’s citizenry.
Let’s take a moment to list out the parade of fail required to allow something like yesterday’s public beheading on a busy London street to occur.
Unchecked immigration of an anti-Western Muslim population.
Failure to assimilate an anti-Western Muslim population.
The rise of cultural relativism permitting such an anti-Western Muslim population to be tolerated while destroying a Western culture.
England’s refusal to arm police officers.
England’s disarming of its population.
Politically correct, educationally enforced emasculation of several generations of Brits who stood by and did nothing (except film, of course) as two men murdered a British soldier in broad daylight.
The refusal of many news organizations and parts of the British government to call this horrendous act Islamic terrorism lest anyone’s feelings be hurt.
The utter desensitization to violence necessary to permit humans to film the murder of another human.
You get the idea. When a population refuses to enforce and to defend its Western culture against a foreign, aggressive, backwards culture living in the same land, the foreign culture wins out. Western culture is engaged in a long war with Islamic culture. Western culture may suck in many respects (e.g., glamorization of violence, objectification of women, persecution of religions), but it’s far, far better than the rapidly metastasizing Muslim fundamentalist culture (e.g., subjugation of women, public beheadings, forced religious conversions, slaughter of homosexuals, refusal to educate females, etc.) gripping Europe these days.
Indeed, London is full of Arabs. So too is New York City. And Stockholm. And Munich. And Toronto.
If America’s not to travel London’s path, it’s time to choose.
*’Puter is fortunate enough (and hard working enough) to be a shareholder and corporate officer in his company. One of the perks is a company car.
**You can and should read the rest of the lyrics here. It’s a great song, emblematic of the New Wave of the late 70s, early 80s. If possible, you should also catch the 1977 Saturday Night Live episode where Elvis Costello and the Attractions were the musical guest, filling in for the Sex Pistols. NBC forbade Mr. Costello to play Radio, Radio, which lamented corporate control of the music industry. Mr. Costello came out for the first number, started into Less Than Zero. After about 10 seconds, Mr. Costello cut his band off, told them to play Radio, Radio, performed wonderfully, walked of the set and never performed his second number. Legend has it that Lorne Michaels banned him from SNL, only lifting the ban nearly 25 years later. All this on live television.
Always right, unless he isn’t, the infallible Ghettoputer F. X. Gormogons claims to be an in-law of the Volgi, although no one really believes this.
’Puter carefully follows economic and financial trends, legal affairs, and serves as the Gormogons’ financial and legal advisor. He successfully defended us against a lawsuit from a liquor distributor worth hundreds of thousands of dollars in unpaid deliveries of bootleg shandies.
The Geep has an IQ so high it is untestable and attempts to measure it have resulted in dangerously unstable results as well as injuries to researchers. Coincidentally, he publishes intelligence tests as a side gig.
His sarcasm is so highly developed it borders on the psychic, and he is often able to insult a person even before meeting them. ’Puter enjoys hunting small game with 000 slugs and punt guns, correcting homilies in real time at Mass, and undermining unions. ’Puter likes to wear a hockey mask and carry an axe into public campgrounds, where he bursts into people’s tents and screams. As you might expect, he has been shot several times but remains completely undeterred.
He assures us that his obsessive fawning over news stories involving women teachers sleeping with young students is not Freudian in any way, although he admits something similar once happened to him. Uniquely, ’Puter is unable to speak, read, or write Russian, but he is able to sing it fluently.
Geep joined the order in the mid-1980s. He arrived at the Castle door with dozens of steamer trunks and an inarticulate hissing creature of astonishingly low intelligence he calls “Sleestak.” Ghettoputer appears to make his wishes known to Sleestak, although no one is sure whether this is the result of complex sign language, expert body posture reading, or simply beating Sleestak with a rubber mallet.
‘Puter suggests the Czar suck it.