Category: Editorial

It means ‘opinion,’ dumbass.

Categories
Editorial Hate

Barack Obama's personality cult

Ask any Democrat about Bradley Manning. This is probably what they will say.

You don’t have to graduate high school to understand that by uttering the words “He broke the law,” President Obama has overstepped the powers granted to him by the constitution. My memory of 5th grade civics is a little distant, but I think it’s the judicial branch of government that gets to declare when the law is broken.

It’s important to understand that this is a civil issue and not a military one. There is absolutely no evidence that any members of the military have come to harm because of Bradley Manning’s alleged leaks. Not only that, but the leaks in question were not sold to our enemies. They were revealed to the entire world. This is the only proper context from which to view Bradley Manning’s alleged crimes. In such a context, the leaks can only be described as civil disobedience. The media, the military, and Barack Obama himself have told every possible lie to obscure the proper understanding of this issue from the general public. Those within the Obama administration who speak out are purged.

Ask a Democrat about why Barack Obama decided to escalate war in Afghanistan. They will most likely tell you that it was completely necessary in order for us to win. Thanks to Bradley Manning, we know this is a lie. The idea that innocent civilians suffer most from war is now fact. No civilian or soldier on either side wins this kind of war. Should that really be a state secret?

Ask a Democrat about Libya. They’ll tell you we’re just doing what the UN told us to, keeping Gaddafi from committing genocide. They regurgitate Obama’s bullshit as if it was their own. Oh, there are no boots on the ground — just special forces and CIA. Gaddafi doesn’t need his meager air force to continue genocide. He has plenty of artillery to indiscriminately shell rebel-held cities. He still has plenty of tanks to crush his citizens.

We, as a people, must remember the economic benefit of expending bombs and using up fuel. It means more money for big business. America doesn’t have much of an interest in Libya except that gigantic corporations stand to profit. Should public opinion support a ground war, we will have it. Barack Obama’s voice for hope and change will continue to infect humanity with death and condemn those who stand for true change.

It’s interesting what information Bradley Manning holds in the recesses of his shattered mind. Obama knows that Manning has a network of supporters in every level of government and military. For Manning, this has meant months of humiliation and cold, sleepless nights. Bradley Manning’s silence has protected American dissidents from a Stalinist purge.

“Well, as long as Obama says its okay.”

Categories
Hate

Army Wives

The man winced as a meaty fist came down again on his lifeless girlfriend.

Four army rangers stood in a circle, preparing to gangfuck her when Frank could stand life no more. He cried out,

“You fucking rotten-ass jarheads! You disgusting pigs! War-mongering shit-for-brains rednecks, I pray to God there’s a hell and you fucking rot there.” Frank’s eyes were hate-tipped daggers.

“Hey, boy.” A fat-necked man with a blond-colored buzzcut turned around. His belt was unbuckled and his puffy cheeks were flushed with alcohol and hormonal rage. His whole body shone with a sweaty glaze under the streetlamp.

“Boy…after we do her, you’re next.”

The sounds of continuous, repetitive smacking syncopated his threat.

Frank stared into the rapist’s cold beady eyes. He spoke again.

“You do me first or I’ll fucking kill you. I’ll kill all of you right here in this parking lot.” Frank screamed hoarsely now through sobs of frustration and pure and total sadness, defeat.

Frank attempted to clamber to his feet but his hips and knees had already been kicked and beaten into uselessness. He collapsed again, knocking his chin on the pavement and cracking some teeth. All he could do is scream. And he did, with blood and bits of teeth dripping and spraying from his beat-up maw. Frank bellowed a throaty, hellish war-cry that could be heard for at least two miles, or three from the direction in which it bounced off the mall walls.

He could not bare witness to the rape of his best friend. It burned like acid on the frontal lobe of his imagination.

He closed his eyes and instead imagined her riding along with him to the grocery store, where they threw cheese at other and made a mess of the place. Then he imagined their hot walks through the Appalachian mountains, and DVDs of cartoons, and cold showers in the summertime. And then — a hot sensation overcame Frank’s entire body as something like pure anti-matter replaced the right side of his face. A crowbar smashed into his jaw, and then into his temple.

Rolling over from the pain, Frank lay on his left side and looked out through the one good eye not swollen and dark, to see the fat buzzcut man standing in his underwear, with the dark cast-iron weapon in hand.

That is when he knew that he recognized the man. Weeks earlier, he’d seen him somewhere. Where was it?

Another blow landed on Frank’s abdomen, making his insides feel like a squishy stress ball coated in pure spongy agony. As the crowbar came down on his guts, he noticed a wedding band on the man’s finger, clenching the tool.

Frank’s girlfriend, he hoped, was dead by this point, so she could suffer no more.

“The coffee shop!” he screamed out. “I know your fat ass from the coffee shop! You were there with your dipshit wife! She’s cheating on you, bro!” Frank laughed out hysterically. “Ha – ha – haaaa!” Frank felt, on some level, that he had won.

“She had a big stupid forehead and was shopping for Us Weekly. Her blond hair looked like shit and even though she’s pregnant you bought her a coffee and cigarettes.”

The fat man stood shocked. Frank went on.

“But that’s not what is so funny! Before you appeared with her, she’d come into the coffee shop with another man, some guy in biker spandex. Ha, she was cheating on you with some shit-for-brains liberal. Ha – ha – haaaa!” Frank laughed again, rolling around in the gravel. Moonlight and street lamps shone into his deep cuts to reveal dirt and rocks wedged into his face and abdomen. He was sure to get an infection from the liquid seeping out of the dumpster where he lay.

“Yeah, looks like she’s been cheating on you for a while, dude, maybe because you’re a meat-headed gung-ho redneck motherfucker. I doubt that’s even your baby. I doubt you can even get it up to rape my girlfriend, or why else would you be standing here watching over me? You impotent fuck. You worthless scum sub-human being motherfucker! Whose war are you fighting here in this alleyway? Will you ever fight your own? Piece of shit. Your wife gave me this look like she wanted my dick, I don’t fuck with bitches who got big foreheads and their hair pulled way back like I’m supposed to use it for a marker board during a presentation. Nah, man. I didn’t fuck your wife. But you go ahead and rape me and my girlfriend. See you in hell, sir.”

Frank lay back and wait, now, for death.

It was quiet. He looked toward his girlfriend’s limp corpse. It lay motionless, bloody and pathetic. He looked back at the fat man, who was gone completely.

Then, sirens.

Categories
Editorial

Sony and AT&T, a historical connection?

Below is the beginning to Bruce Sterling’s The Hacker Crackdown, an important history of the phenomenon that has become Anonymous. Anonymous has a new face but is as old as the first telephone network.

On January 15, 1990, AT&T’s long-distance telephone switching system crashed.

This was a strange, dire, huge event. Sixty thousand people lost their telephone service completely. During the nine long hours of frantic effort that it took to restore service, some seventy million telephone calls went uncompleted.

Losses of service, known as “outages” in the telco trade, are a known and accepted hazard of the telephone business. Hurricanes hit, and phone cables get snapped by the thousands. Earthquakes wrench through buried fiber-optic lines. Switching stations catch fire and burn to the ground. These things do happen. There are contingency plans for them, and decades of experience in dealing with them. But the Crash of January 15 was unprecedented. It was unbelievably huge, and it occurred for no apparent physical reason.

The crash started on a Monday afternoon in a single switching- station in Manhattan. But, unlike any merely physical damage, it spread and spread. Station after station across America collapsed in a chain reaction, until fully half of AT&T’s network had gone haywire and the remaining half was hard-put to handle the overflow.

Within nine hours, AT&T software engineers more or less understood what had caused the crash. Replicating the problem exactly, poring over software line by line, took them a couple of weeks. But because it was hard to understand technically, the full truth of the matter and its implications were not widely and thoroughly aired and explained. The root cause of the crash remained obscure, surrounded by rumor and fear. The crash was a grave corporate embarrassment. The “culprit” was a bug in AT&T’s own software — not the sort of admission the telecommunications giant wanted to make, especially in the face of increasing competition. Still, the truth was told, in the baffling technical terms necessary to explain it.

Somehow the explanation failed to persuade American law enforcement officials and even telephone corporate security personnel. These people were not technical experts or software wizards, and they had their own suspicions about the cause of this disaster.

The police and telco security had important sources of information denied to mere software engineers. They had informants in the computer underground and years of experience in dealing with high-tech rascality that seemed to grow ever more sophisticated. For years they had been expecting a direct and savage attack against the American national telephone system. And with the Crash of January 15 — the first month of a new, high-tech decade — their predictions, fears, and suspicions seemed at last to have entered the real world. A world where the telephone system had not merely crashed, but, quite likely,been crashed — by “hackers.”

Anonymous, you are a thorn in the side of corporations and government. The AT&T crisis in 1990 that led to the hacker crackdown is very much like what is happening now with Sony. Regardless of the nature of the outage, Anonymous will take blame from many groups. Should history repeat itself, these groups will include Playstation owners, Sony security officials, and law enforcement officials.