Crap Christmas #2

Told ya I’d be back with another installment of my seemingly endless memories of disastrous Christmases past. This time we grab the Red Eye and jet from LA to NYC for yet more Yuletide misery. Enjoy!

O HOLY NIGHT

One year after being dumped by Monica I’m back in New York. Another Christmas Eve. Another girlfriend. Another dumping. This time – Lana. Something about me having no money and being a loser. She has a point. I am once again gainfully employed as a full-time starving actor – fucking adorable but broke. Not what Lana has in mind so –

“Merry Christmas, you’re dumped.”

“Oh yeah? Fuck you! I’ve been given a free ticket to a Broadway show – so there.”

Lana is a model. A beautiful model. With perfect lips. Succulent lips. Dreams are made of such lips. If you don’t believe me just ask the radio station that has chosen Lana’s lips as its new logo currently splashed over every available space in New York City. Walls. Billboards. The sides of buses. Trains. Taxis. As I hurry to the theater, her luscious lips confront me at every turn. In Times Square, Lana’s lips, luminously captured in neon light, tower above me. I am almost hit by a cab decorated with Lana’s lips as I run to touch those very same lips that adorn the back of a bus. Her lips smile at me, seduce me, invite and entice me. Then they chase me down the street taunting, “Loser, loser, loser” until I escape them by ducking into the theater lobby.

When I settle into my seat, I realize that I’ve seen this play before. With Lana. (Choke. Sniffle.) So, there I am contemplating throwing myself off the balcony and thinking – Well, at least I’ll crush some Jews. I am surrounded by Jews. Who else goes to the theater on Christmas Eve? But, overtaken by the spirit of the season, I decide to live and let live. I imagine these theater-loving Hebrews bustling home to enjoy their Chanukah bushes and to drink Christian baby-blood. As I leave the theater a heavy snow is blanketing yesterday’s filthy white pile. The Jefferson Airplane’s lyric comes to me –

City streets in the dead of winter,

Stop your mind with dirty snow.

But, my mind won’t stop. It zooms. I am in my thirties. I’ve limped back to New York after failing in L.A. – limped back for a second dose of the same medicine. A glutton for punishment. No money. No food. No job. No woman. No hope. Walking in Times Square on Christmas Eve with nothing and no one waiting for me at home. Not even a Chanukah Bush. Again, I become Jimmy Stewart in It’s a Wonderful Life. I lean into the biting wind and trudge through the heaping snow, not in Bedford Falls but in Midtown Manhattan searching for a smile, a break. Searching for my life. It was here a minute ago. Crazed, I search for warmth in passing faces but they hurry away. I press my nose against restaurant windows ’til frightened diners have the waiter tap on the glass and chase the bum away. Then I see the brightly flashing lights ahead. Red and green. Not a Christmas tree but the marquee of a porn theater. A sin-pit of the lowest sort.

Hmmnnn…perfect. Dump me on Christmas Eve, will ya? Fine. I’ll wallow in it. What’s the movie? “Snowblowers.” Ah, a seasonal theme. Perfect again.

I buy my ticket comforted by the thought that I will have the Snowblowers all to my lonesome. Enter theater and… the place is packed. Jammed. I have trouble finding a seat. Who knew there were this many sad, lonely, desperate losers in New York on Christmas Eve? But, maybe they’re just killing time ‘til Midnight Mass.   

Snowblowers is neither Christmas In Connecticut nor The Miracle On 34th Street. In fact, the movie is so out-of-focus and out-of-sync that it’s difficult to discern who is doing what to what part of whom. I think the plot involves flabby-assed actresses performing a variety of sex acts while on skis with hairy-assed actors also on skis. I worry the performers risk frostbite on their asses, whether flabby or hairy.

Divertimento on Porn Etiquette

In those golden days of yesteryear, there were strict codes of conduct in porn theaters and dirty bookstores. In the latter, it was thought rude to pick up a porn magazine immediately after another sticky-fingered voyeur had put it down. The girl in that magazine was still his girl. It was best to let some time pass and allow the couple to come to terms with their recent break-up. Then you were free to paw over Teenage Enema Bandits.

In porn cinemas, as in all cinemas, it was held inconsiderate, threatening and sexually provocative to sit right next to, directly in front of or (worse) directly behind someone when there were other seats available. It pains me to report that some lost souls went to porn theaters expressly to jack-off or to be jacked-off. I was never among their number. My preference was to sit far apart, all the better to enjoy the mise en scène. And, to avoid being hit by recklessly extruded seminal fluid.

Porn theaters, like strip-shows, were remarkably somber affairs. The men hunkered down to watch and/or wank in silence. No chitchat. No popcorn passing. Definitely no eye contact. You didn’t want to risk being recognized.

“Murray, what the hell are you doing here?”

Furthermore, a wisp too much eye-contact with the flaming Black fairies who walked up and down the center aisle, licking their lips while looking into laps, might suggest you were happy to let them get a lip-lock on your love-monkey. No. And again, no! Eyes straight ahead.

fine

In the middle of Snowblowers just as the star blower is fellating her shivering co-star on a toboggan, I become aware of a commotion at the end of my aisle. A suburban daddy is awkwardly climbing and tripping his way over the masturbating men while loaded down with his Christmas treasures. He is juggling bags from Saks, Macy’s and Bloomingdales.

“Excuse me, Merry Christmas. Oops, scuse me, please. Merry Christmas. I’m terribly sorry to trouble you but could I possibly sneak past. Merry Christmas.” And, he is off to catch the last train to Westchester. The erotic mood destroyed, I let Mr. Westchester run interference for me through the aisle-fairies and follow him out into the blizzard.

Lights get turned off even on the Great White Way and much of Midtown is now dark. Lana’s neon lips are a grey ghost drained of all erotic power. I tramp downtown as far as the Village where, ashamed and ascared, I grab a bagel and the subway and make for Brooklyn. I make for home.

__________________________

Available as a paperback and eBook here and here and as an eBook here

YANKEE GO HOME

The Appalachian Mountains of Eastern Tennessee – God’s Country!

I HAD BEEN LIVING in London for three decades when a voice in my head began nagging me. “Yankee Go Home,” it said. I believe all ex-pats hear this voice no matter what their home country. It’s natural to want to be home especially as we age. And though I remain eternally grateful to Britain for giving me the use of the hall for so long, I had fallen out of love with the place and the feeling was mutual. 

The London I moved to thirty years earlier had become unrecognizable. Believe it or not, back then, London was shut on Sundays and the idea of a Muslim mayor was laughable. (A Hindu Prime Minister? Impossible.) In fact, I was shocked in 1990 when I saw just one completely veiled Muslim woman on the street! For the first twenty years of my London adventure, crime – especially violent crime – was very low and there was a general orderliness and decency about the place. (At least compared to the New York City I had fled.) I miss London circa 1990 as I miss New York circa 1956. Sadly, both cities are gone forever. 

By 2010, I was looking behind me on the streets and looking at anti-FGM billboards on the tubes. I also had to slalom through a feces-strewn tent city to get into my tube station. Then I had a fist fight with a pickpocket on a London bus (I won) and the police questioned me! Before my eyes, London had morphed into Detroit with a few Ye Olde touristy bits. It was time for this actor to exit and pronto. 

Some readers may remember my earlier post “Fade to Black” which catalogued the deliberate discrimination against White performers. (The best-selling thriller author James Patterson says that White writers now face the same attack.) Well… since the BLM riots and media company capitulation to the Black mobs, that anti-White discrimination has increased exponentially. Anyone who watches film and TV now recognizes how much non-White faces have invaded our screens. So, I was facing a future as an old White actor in London who would be unemployable or offered roles in anti-White garbage that I would never accept. Then Covid hit and I was shocked and disappointed by how easily the Brits surrendered. Other nations did the same but somehow, I expected better of the British. So… in May of 2021 – feeling as though I was escaping East Berlin in the Cold War – I split for points West. 

Davy Crockett

Strange to report, this Brooklyn boy didn’t end up back on the stoops of Brooklyn but rather in the Appalachian Mountains of Eastern Tennessee – Davy Crockett country! In 1955, like every other kid in the US, I lived in my Davy Crockett coonskin cap. Now, by some strange twist of fate, I was living a stone’s throw from Davy’s birthplace. And it’s as close to a Goldilocks spot as you could find. The waves of White urbanites fleeing here prove my point. The terrain is beautiful, the climate temperate, the demographics 95% White, and, prior to the Biden economy, it was remarkably affordable. Sadly, in my one year in this demi-paradise the price of gas has doubled with no ceiling in sight and food prices are skyrocketing, too. 

More bad news is that the anti-White bias controls show business here, too. The casting notices for screen, stage, or voice work are all skewed toward non-Whites and people who clearly have more genders than sense. The producers and directors trumpet their preferred pronouns and expect me to do the same. (I don’t.) The Web pages of regional theaters are plastered with Black faces giving the impression that theater is an almost exclusively Negro invention and activity. And these theatres proclaim that their primary mission is not to put on good productions of plays that a paying audience might enjoy seeing, but rather to promote racial equality, social justice, diversity, and inclusion — especially for the LGBTQLMNOP+ community. When I phone the office of the Screen Actors Guild, I am given a list of options to dial if I have experienced racial or sexual abuse. It’s revealing that I am not given a phone option if I, as a worker, feel I have been monetarily abused. The once mighty SAG union has been effectively busted by the Jewish media moguls who claim to be all for social justice.

Tennessee is a solid red (Republican) state, and I am living in the reddest part of that state. This is Trump Country. I landed here only a few months after Biden took office, but the roads were already lined with Trump 2024 signs, and I regularly see hilariously filthy anti-Biden bumper stickers too vulgar to recount. The folk here are very, very pro-police and pro-military. Tennessee is known as the Volunteer State because it has always sent more men per capita to the military than any other. 

Veterans are worshipped here. They get special sales, parking spots, and meal deals. I’m the only guy not wearing a t-shirt declaring “Proud Vietnam War Veteran” or “Proud Korean War Veteran.” Many wear hats that proclaim, “Proud Wounded Veteran” or, even better, “Proud Battle-Wounded Veteran.” The sad truth is that these brave men are knee-jerk super-patriots. They were cannon fodder but can’t admit it. As much as they despise Biden, if he sent them into battle, they would click their heels (even their prosthetic ones) and be off. As far as they are concerned, no American ever fought in an unjust war.

The spoils of war.

I believe this mindset is a legacy of the Civil War. Southern men, with their British blood, love to fight. But they also feel a need to prove they are loyal to the union. I’ve seen this same syndrome in Mormons who also had a long history of bloody opposition to the rest of America. That’s why they disproportionately serve in the FBI and CIA. This “rah-rah the flag” mentality makes discussing American foreign policy a minefield. I have used the Russia-Ukraine war to make some progress, but I first must counter the anti-Russia nonsense they’ve been fed by the media including Fox News.

I thought there were lots of churches in Rome until I moved to Eastern Tennessee. There are churches everywhere here, even in the middle of the forest. Baptist is by far the most common denomination, but there are more versions of Baptist than Heinz has beans. Then there are the other major Protestant groups along with Church of Christ, Church of God, and assorted micro-denominations. Catholics are rarer than rocking-horse shit. In fact, when I tell people I’m an ex-Catholic they look for my horns and hooves. I’m told that in one church very near me they handle snakes. But don’t get the impression I’m living in a hillbilly holler. This region has ballet companies and symphonies. Life is very similar in the Appalachian Mountains up and down the East Coast. Anyone familiar with the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania or the Adirondacks of New York would feel at home here. 

That Old Rugged Cross

Everyone I meet invites me to their church, so I’ve been to quite a few. The services are bland with decent contemporary Gospel singing and generic “Jesus loves you” sermons. The congregants are ancient and busily waiting for The Rapture. They are instinctively against all the right things like globohomo and open borders but are unaware that organized Jewry is pushing these poisons. Most have never even met a Jew in their lives. (The same is true in Mormon Utah.) Most churches are not explicitly Christian Zionist, but they have a Disneyfied picture of the Twelve Tribes. In their artwork, Moses looks like Charlton Heston and the ancient Jews look Bavarian. This makes it difficult to make them see the truth about modern Jews and the criminal state of Israel. After all, “That nice Charlton Heston wouldn’t do anything un-Christian to us.”

The Hebe of their dreams.

The naïveté of these Christians extends to homosexuality. They are vehemently against it but don’t really know how truly degenerate it is. It is beyond their comprehension and simply too distasteful to discuss. As a result, some queers are making headway in the local school system pushing those “Cindy Has Two Mommies” books. I raised the issue with several local politicians. They simply could not comprehend what I was talking about and didn’t want to know. So, ironically, the unspeakable nature of homosexuality is its best defense. 

Love Is Love

Against my better judgement, I attended a 100% White Republican Party luncheon and, as I feared, it was full of back-slapping Chamber of Commerce types and their former beauty queen wives. None of the candidates who addressed us said anything of substance or that couldn’t have been said by a Democrat. Not a peep about race or the Great Replacement Policy. In private conversation, I asked the candidates some tough questions about race, but they brushed them off as not relevant because we’re all God’s children. (Christianity is a big problem for White nationalism!) I later learned that most of these candidates run unopposed, so they have become complacent. 

These politicians and their constituents are in for a shock and a fight. The forces of darkness have crept into these mountains while their backs were turned. There is now an Islamic Cultural Center here.

The regional airport will no doubt soon be forced to accept Biden’s secret nighttime flights filled with non-White invaders. One local church has just imported an Afghani family with their entire village soon to follow, along with their goats. And, as is always the case, the local university is a haven to Jewish professors and pink-haired, morbidly obese creatures of dubious sexuality. I doubt these psycho-sexual misfits can find common cause with the native conservative Christians. I predict conflict in the not-too-distant future. The locals better conjure the fighting spirit of their British pioneer ancestors, or they will go the way of the dodo.

Calling All Celts!

I oppose violence and would never condone or encourage it. But as America faces social collapse and the inevitable chaos it brings; it is comforting to know that there are four million registered deer hunters in Pennsylvania alone. I doubt many of those are non-binary. Tennessee is even more gun-friendly. The media-hyped mass shootings in America just increase gun sales here. (By the way, the US ranks only 64th in the world in mass shootings!) In fact, in this state you don’t even need a license to own a gun and concealed carry licenses are easy to come by. The men I see in Walmart with shirts hanging over their belts are concealing more than their beer guts. That said, this is the most peaceful region I’ve ever lived in. Maybe it’s because so many people are armed. In my one year here, I have not seen one violent incident or even heard a raised voice. 

In some ways, America is little changed in my thirty years away. The shape of daily life is about the same. Ubiquitous phones, social media, and technology are one definite change and one for the worse. But the rise of entitlement culture is the biggest change I’ve seen. The glorification of victimhood and vulnerability. The rampant narcissism. I believe a certain Austrian painter called it, “The tyranny of the unwell.” 

Thanks to voter fraud, the Democrats avoided being wiped out in the recent mid-term elections. But the results proved this is a 50-50 country with no hopes of reconciliation. The left and right need a no-fault divorce. The Whites and non-Whites need racial separation. Barring those rational, compassionate solutions things will get very ugly.

Meanwhile, the race to replace Biden as the Democrat nominee in 2024 will be as heated as that to replace Johnson in 1968. I predict this period will be similarly riot-filled and blood-soaked. All the entitled minority factions will be off the chain. And I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather ride out the storm than smack dab in Davy Crockett country! 

________________________

Available as a paperback and eBook here and here and as an eBook here

MASKS UNMASKED

Venetian mask

In high school English class, whenever we were told to submit an essay of more than two words in length, we immediately resorted to padding our work with a big fat quotation from the dictionary. Good for fifty words at least. (Hehehe.)

For example:

Jack Antonio: Sophomore 2A 

Subject: Literary themes

As we ponder the question of theme in James Fenimore Cooper’s immortal tome The Last of the Mohicans, it behoves us to reflect upon what Mister Merriam Webster had to say on the subject of literary themes. 

Then followed as much of the dictionary material as I dared risk sneaking by my teacher.

The Last of the Mohicans
Yeah, yeah, Chingachgook, I know now that Merriam Webster was two guys but I was sixteen then so gimme a break. If you’re so smart, you write the fuckin’ essay!

Therefore, in tribute to my literary criticisms of yore, I now choose to begin this essay on the theme of masks with a quotation from my main-man Merriam. 

Page from dictionary
MASK

/mask/

Noun

a covering for all or part of the face, worn as a disguise, or to amuse or terrify other people.

I am sure we can all agree with Merriam that masks have their time and place and have been part of the human experience for eons.  

TO DISGUISE

Zorro
Vintage photo of S&M woman in mask

TO AMUSE

Fidel Castro Halloween mask
S&M rubber suffocation mask

TO TERRIFY

Michelle Obama in mask
Joe Biden in mask

But the time and place for these Covid masks is not here and not now. As the Brits say, “They are well past their sell-by date.”  

Trust me, only pea brains wear masks while driving alone in a car or walking down the street or through a park or standing online at a shop or ATM or anythefuckwhere. 

Worst of all are the designer masks and worst of those are the masks that try to be funny or clever.

“Hey, you in the mask, lissen ta me now. I’m your best friend coz I’ll tell you the truth. You look like a fuckin’ jerk in that thing and your humor is tame and trite.”

TAKE THE MASK OFF   

Frightened little girl looking up at shadow
Children especially little children must see faces especially faces of adults and most especially faces of adult strangers in order to learn how to read faces for signs of safety or danger. 

It pains me every time I see a masked adult smiling at a child only to realize the kid can’t see that smile. 

The human face is the most expressive single thing in the animal kingdom. It is inhumane to deny humans access to their glorious instrument of communication.

Bert Lahr
The subtlety of meaning and mood that can be conveyed by the lifting of an eyebrow or the pursing of a lip is a wonder to behold and it is a crime that these miracles of expression have been censored from daily life for more than a year. 

Forget the emotional and psychological damage caused by the mask-mania, how about the health damage? 

Vintage photo of dentist
Dentists report that wearing masks is causing a  marked increase in tooth decay and gum disease. 
Face rash on child
Dermatologists report a marked increase in serious skin infections. 
Necrotic pneumonia
Pulmonologists report a marked increase in deadly pulmonary infections including pneumonia. 

So what does Tony “I’m not a real scientist but I play one on TV” Fauci suggest? 

Wear two and even three masks!

Anthony Fauci in mask
PURE GENIUS

Faithful readers of this blog will remember that over a year ago I reported that the Head Chemist (Pharmacist) at the UKs top drugstore chain warned that wearing masks was counter-productive and even dangerous.

They shut him up right quick! Last I heard, he was delivering prescriptions by row boat in the Outer Hebrides.

Sure, the all-knowing, all-powerful third-rate-minds at the CDC have announced a partial lifting of the mask mandate but that is subject to review and removal at any time.

Meanwhile, much of the world is still under full face lockdown. 

Vintage sketch of man in S&M muzzle
Watch and see how many sheeple continue to wear masks begging to be abused just as all good masochists beg for the lash. 

Don’t believe me?

Look at how many halfwits have happily embraced the mask and made it into a virtue signalling billboard,

Love Your Neighbor Covid mask
Black Lives Matter Covid mask

Then there are those money-grubbing scumbags who marketed ever more ridiculous variants of the muzzle.  

Woman wearing nose only Cover mask
Convenient while eating shit with both hands.

Oh, how we laughed while watching the movie Naked Gun when Leslie Nielsen and Priscilla Presley donned full body condoms at the height of the AIDS hysteria. 

Leslie Nielsen and Priscilla Presley
Honestly, can you imagine anyone being that stupid?

Welp…

High school band in Covid plastic bubbles
You heard of the boy in the bubble? Meet the band in the bubbles.

And, Daddy-O you ain’t heard a tuba wail some blues until you’ve heard it from inside a resealable baggie.

Remember that according to Merriam Webster masks are:

TO DISGUISE

TO AMUSE

TO TERRIFY

Covid mask as hand covering mouth
Don’t let them terrify you!

Take that filthy, useless rag off your face and breathe the air of health, reason and freedom.  

__________________________

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder-memoir by Jack Antonio
Available as a paperback and eBook from amazon.com and amazon.co.uk and as an eBook here

The Joys of Anal Sex with My Girlfriend’s Lesbian Mother’s Dead Dog

So, I got an email from amazon claiming that some of my recent reviews had not followed its “community guidelines” and had caused offence i.e. some of my reviews had cost Jeff Bezos a few shekels. Trust me, I write honest reviews good and bad. I like nothing better than praising a well written book or recommending a product that’s worth its price. Sadly, I don’t get to write either of those very often. But when a book or widget is good, I am fulsome in my praise. 

Quill pen dripping blood
If it’s crap, I dip my quill in venom and say so in strong but never vulgar language. In fact, my bad reviews are very funny. Sarcasm is the best revenge.   

 I got to thinkin’ about amazon’s “community guidelines” and what constitutes “offensive” material in the eyes of Jeff Bezos. So, I played a game. I entered every sexual kink and perversion I could think of (including ILLEGAL ones) into the amazon search engine and whatayaknow… 

Jeff Bezos laughing
Jeff Bezos is happily selling everything from Analingus to Zoophilia.
Shih Tzu with bow in hair
For those of you in the back of the classroom that means everything from sex with shit to sex with Shih Tzus.  Okay, that’s a cute little bow but, “Come on, Jeff.”

Don’t get me wrong. I’m no prude as my long-suffering readers can attest. My memoir Boy Outa Brooklyn is plenty dirty but it’s honest, clean dirt not juvenile jerk-off junk. Further, I believe that what consenting, adult Shih Tzus do in the privacy of their kennel is their business.

But I wanna know how come books celebrating sex with the family or the family dog do not offend and are not against amazon’s “community guidelines ” while books questioning any part of the official “holocaust narrative” of WW2 or any aspect of the Covid-hoax are immediately censored?  

Hmmmnnnn…

Don’t believe me? Play my game yourself.

Imagine the most degenerate, unnatural activity you can. Then enter that term in the amazon search bar and stand back.

Here are my favorite deviant-discoveries for sale on amazon with the much vaunted “Jeff Bezos Seal of Approval” –  

Lesbian mother erotica
Barely legal girls erotica
Babysitter erotica
Suffocation erotica
PIss erotica
Rape fantasy erotica
TRannie rough sex erotica
Big penis erotica
Rubber bondage erotica
Circumcision erotoca
Rough sex fantasy erotica
Scatological erotica
Black teenage seduction erotica
Old and young sex erotica
Incest fantasy erotica
MILF erotica
Slave girl bondage erotica
Gay dad erotica
Pregnancy erotica

This next title is too good to miss –

Housewife Lesbian Babysitter

Lesbian babysitter porn
Piss porn
Canine erotica
Jailhouse trannie porn
Woman kissing skull

Remember that you can’t sell or buy books on amazon that in any way question the official “holocaust narrative” of WW2. But that doesn’t mean Jeff won’t sell you some holocaust porn… er, I meant to say holocaust erotica – a genre very popular in… Israel.

SS Experiment Love Camp

This fräulein gives Ilsa, She Wolf of the SS a run for the money. Believe it or not, The Toymaker and the Nazi Sadomasochist was not short-listed for a Pulitzer.

The Toymaker and the Nazi Sadomasochist

If we’re supposed to be worried about Covid infection when someone gets within three feet of us or doesn’t wear a mask then we better be worried big-time about getting within a mile of anyone who dreams of or dabbles in the depravities depicted above. You better pray they’re using hand sanitizer!

The National Socialists are condemned for being book burners. But they didn’t burn classics. They burned unnatural and unhealthy trash like the books for sale on ever-so progressive and enlightened amazon.

I, for one, say, “Burn, Baby, Burn!”

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder-memoir by Jack Antonio
Available as an eBook and paperback from amazon.com and amazon.co.uk and as an eBook here