So you have finally decided to say screw you to *The Man* and are finally ready to open up your own business. Good for you. You have a novel idea, you have unlimited energy, and so much passion that family members and friends can’t stand being beside you because you bore the shit out of them with your incessant ramblings about how *awesome* your new store is going to be. First of all, drop the word *awesome* – it is possibly the most overused word ever in the English language (show of hands – how many people, when hearing the word *awesome*, want to smash the face in of said *awesome* user? Surprise, 100000 to none).
Your store is going to be great, there is no doubting that. But how are you going to make your store stand out among the other 5 trillion stores in North America? How are you going to differentiate your place of business from the retail hell that takes up half of every livable square foot on this continent?
Simple. You are a royal prick and a condescending piece of shit that everybody loathes, therefore, you should open up a boutique.
Opening a boutique is perfect for people who think they have style, yet possess no more class than a maggot stuck on a chunk of meatloaf in a dirty dumpster. And that’s perfect for you.
Now that you have decided on the boutique meme, the next thing you have to choose is a name for your place of business. Seeing as though you have the boutique thing going on, the name of your store must reflect the snobbishness your boutique emits. Remember, you are better than everyone else, make sure your name has a snooty factor of infinity.
The Mayor has come up with a few names (perfect names) to help you out. Any one of these names is money in the bank. Feel free to take one, there is no charge.
Memories Cast In Salt Water
Footprints Drawn In The Sand
A Child’s Dream
Tender Heart, Baby Breath Kisses
A Walk Through Tyme
Enchanted Memories Of Love
The Mayor is sure he could come up with another 50 names in the next 5 minutes if he cared enough, but guess what? You got it, The Mayor careth not.
And remember – you can either use the word boutique at the beginning or the end of the name. For instance, you can either have “Boutique – A handmade Heart”, or, “Handmade Heart Boutique”.
Feel free to add to this disgusting list, the boutique crowd will thank you for it (in their own stuck-up way.)
Poor Big Red. If only she had consulted a reputable astrologer to warn her of the her choice of hair color. Now she is famous as the face of harpy feminism. Oh well. You can hunt down her multiplying images across the internet. Physically, she seems to have dropped off the face of the planet. I suspect she has changed her hair color. Probably works in Human Resources somewhere where she can castrate men in a official capacity.
Poor Bahar Mustafa. Kinda kicked up a shit storm with her #Killallwhitemen indiscretion. Scotland Yard is investigating, apparently. While not as cartoonable as Big Red has become, she is fast on her way to becoming a poster child for harpy feminism. Someone to watch, especially if she shows up working in the Human Resources department of the company you work for.
Poor Mayor Stephanie Rawlings-Blake. She is the Mayor of Baltimore, of give them room to destroy fame. While not an object of internet stalking, she is also well above the position of Human Resources scrotum snipper. She does have the local police in a bit of snit. Crime is surging, er upticking, in her progressive city, but that is because of white racism. Being a progressive, I doubt she studied Roman History. Too many men in positions of power. Not enough progressive women of color. I wonder what happens when you piss off the Praetorian Guard? But then again the Police are not the Praetorian Guard. Yup
After some thought, family plans to vacation in Baltimore have been cancelled. After all, if the progressives cannot actually pay their minions, then why go paid protesting? I was so looking forward to taking advantage of the cheap hotel rates brought on by the economic collapse in that city.
So, the next question that comes up at the family dining table is where to go vacation. Gosh, I do not have a crystal ball, but I suspect that the racist, black killing police will be adopting a hands off, ’safe space for looting’ approach to law enforcement. Which is to say, there will be a spike in crime rates. I suspect that the local businesses in these new freedom zones will adapt in some fashion. After all, if your store gets jacked for some beer, then the gentle giant who jacked the beer gets ventilated by some neo-nazi in blue, then you can look forward to getting special arson treatment in the ensuing riots. I sure hope the business owners doe not develop a vigilante attitude and start ventilating the ‘payback for slavery’ activists who now have a ‘do not shoot me’ card from the po-po. Anyway, I suspect some sort of corrosion of customer service in the freedom zones.
Where will the freedom zones be? It might be a good idea to avoid them. These can be identified as urban areas with freedom loving progressive rulers, who will be busy persecuting their own police apparatus.
Should be an interesting summer.
I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this. I care.
Down at the offices of the Canadian Pan-Nationalist Party, there was excitement and much guzzling of liquor as the results of the British election rolled in. Aside from the potential of more statist money flowing into the coffers of the party (statists are incredibly incompetent at noticing details like the fact that our organization is in a country, state, province, city, municipality, and/or continent different from them), the prospect of legitimacy for Scottish nationalism made everybody happy. Also, we just got a fat cheque, er, check, from some city in Amerikkka for street youth outreach. So, we bought whiskey and party snacks (the Mayor got new summer tires) for a whoop up.
The Canadian Pan-Nationalist Party is the brainchild of Attila, an old school Hungarian nationalist who has a veneer of Canadian sensibility. He was active in Hungarian nationalist circles here in Toronto, but their gun running and para military training activities were getting the wrong sort of attention from the authorities. Toronto refused to give them a bicycle lane close to their downtown hangout, and the post office sent them a scary letter because some postie was afraid of their vicious dogs. Attila will tell you all the details, and embellish them with hyperbole depending on how much prune brandy he has slugged back. His problem (in his eyes, not the lies told by his third wife at the divorce proceedings) was how to get on the right side of the leftist bureaucracy and open up the conveyor belt of privileges, perks, and payments that come with being on the right side of the left. Attila does not use the expression ‘being on the right side of the left’, he uses the more politically correct term ’sucking leftist cock’ in a thick Magyar accent. Sucking cock is ok nowadays. They groom kids to do it in school here in Ontario, do not you know?
Anyway, Attila had a good idea. If the anti Semites can reflag into anti Israeli apartheid, then most about anybody can just change the nuance from bad to fundable. Given the cement head intellect of the lock step leftist paper pusher (thank you employment equity!), merely cutting and pasting some soothing leftist double speak onto a grant application form pretty much guarantees a payment. They never care much about results, as you can tell by observation of the failure of literacy programs in ending illiteracy. These people think that giving needles to addicts will get them to stop. Stop laughing, says Attila, start taking their money. Good advice. Do not be a pirate, be a Jolly Roger.
We have quite a diversity of nationalist sentiments in our party. We like to drink together, smoke at the bar, shoot guns, and put names on arrest lists to settle old scores. Just add the diversity, and leave out the selfies of us firing off the Carl Gustav at raccoons down in the Don Valley, and voila, we are acceptable to the Bolsheviks who write the pay checks in Toronto City Council. Only Mayor Ford could have sniffed out the truth, but, well, he is not around much now a days. Attila has a pool going on when Mayor Tory will send us some sort of Bravo Zulu for our diversity initiatives. Learning how to assault police stations, clear rooms with grenades, and torture prisoners for intel is an important part of community activism. It is in the third world, and, provided you leave out the assaulting police stations, clearing rooms with grenades, and torturing prisoners for intel bit and emphasize community activism, it is quite fundable here in the first world. Stick a prefix in front of nationalism and it makes it better. Just look at the anti-fa fascists. They get funding. From libraries, school boards, empty churches, ghetto municipalities, and failed states.
Jock is our voice of the Highlands. He is a Scottish Highlander who claims descent from the MacDonalds of Islay. He wants the Lords of the Isles restored to their traditional land claims. He used to consider anyone not a MacDonald to be scum. That is not a very Canadian way of looking at things, now is it. Now, thanks to the Canadian Pan-Nationalist Party, Jock is receiving a lavish 145,000 US dollars a year sinecure as a disabled minority animal control officer. The bogus disability claim we cooked up spans two feuding jurisdictions (New York and New Jersey) so the wheel barrows of money will flow for some decades. Jock could even pass on his pegged to inflation cash fief to his illegitimate children. There is unity of purpose in diversity … think of a bundle of sticks tied together … and that purpose is to spend other peoples’ money.
Even the less warlike nations can find a voice in the Canadian Pan-Nationalist Party. We took one of our Finnish members (actually, he was a stranger sitting at the bar while we were meeting in the meeting room at our hangout in Toronto, the Pleasure Center) and made him into the voice of Lithuanian Nationalism. You know, the past glories of the Polish-Lithuanian empire, er, Commonwealth . We took some pictures, put some pleasing progressive phrases on the application form, and voila, now the Finn is the face of the Lithuanian wing of the Canadian Pan-Nationalist Party. How progressive. Your average goof activist cannot count, let alone tell the difference between Finland and Lithuania.
So, come on down to one of the regular meetings of the Canadian Pan-Nationalist Party. Last night we were gloating over how the Scots are going to put the sausage to those Sassenach Limeys after that election, just like our never separating Quebecois separatists have been sodomizing the Canadian tax payers for some decades. Bend over Sassenachs, and hope the Jocks uses some of that free lube that the activists hand out to the street whores in most progressive jurisdictions. Grievance over past injuries done to long dead ancestors done by long dead others is a Canadian industry. Why complain about the Gravy Train when you can get a ticket to ride?
These balmy, hot and humid post Global Warming May days call for some greasy local meat done up with some taters and roots from the cellar.
Locavores will want to go with the plentiful Squirrel, Raccoon, or Ground Hog that infest our modern cities. I sure do like the rasvainen ja sitkeä taste of this Finnish delicacy that the Finns loved to serve to their Russian guests.
Here is what you need:
3 lb skinless, boneless Squirrel, Raccoon, or Ground Hog, cut up into bite size pieces
1 cup onion, coarsely chopped. You can keep the peelings for the compost bucket.
4 medium carrots, peeled and thinly sliced. Pitch in the green leafy stuff at the top for extra fiber.
4 stalks celery, thinly sliced
To taste black pepper
1 pinch ground cloves
2 Cups Badwulf Mill’s Premium flour
6 Cups water
1 med. potatoes, diced
12 Oz. bottle brown ale
1 package (10 oz) frozen peas
¼ Cup Butter
¼ C grapeseed Oil
1/4 C olive Oil
Twitter shares fell nearly 20% Tuesday night after a financial service company posted Twitter revenue, first-quarter earnings, and user figures:
Revenue jumped 74 percent from the year-earlier period, but the total was worse than even the most pessimistic of the 36 analyst estimates compiled by Thomson Reuters.
The company’s second-quarter revenue outlook of $470 million to $485 million was also well below the average Wall Street forecast of $538 million.
“We anticipate the factors that affected our first-quarter results will also affect our 2015 guidance,” Twitter CEO Dick Costolo said in the company’s earnings call.
Monthly users went up and advertising revenue actually skyrocketed by 80% but the stock got clobbered after hours.
When it comes to social media sites like Twitter, the thing that always amazes The Mayor is not the increase in revenue they seem to turn every quarter, but the fact that their revenue is more than 1 cent. The Mayor can’t figure out how any of these sites make actual money. Do they make it by clicks? If so, does anyone know anyone, ever, who has actually clicked on one of their ads? Other than by mistake, of course.
How does Twitter make half a billion dollars not producing anything but clicks, and Facebook makes a magnitude of 10x what Twitter makes by actually not selling anything but clicks?
The Mayor knows there is more to it than that, but really there isn’t that much more to it than that.
The fact that social media sites make anything is astounding. They produce nothing. They can’t even outsource jobs to China because there aren’t any jobs to outsource.
Twitter, Facebook, Snapchat, LinkedIn, Pinterest, Instagram, Flickr – they are all worth billions, but eventually they will all have the same place in history alongside Myspace.
I have been told that my style and method of writing can be improved. This will require some study, practice, and effort. Do I care? What does it mean to you if I tell you to ‘jump’. Hmmmm. Self improvement and the lifelong commitment to learning are values I cherish. Blah blah blah.
What motivates my surface workers to move more gravel and crushed stone more efficiently? I want them to have pride in their work, and the good things in life that this planet with a breathable atmosphere has to offer. Breathable air is nice. A few beer, some roast meats, a warm, bed bug free sleeping space. This is what I want for my workers in the bulk aggregate industry.
New Business. Everybody wants new business. They have old business. They have old business down pat. They want new combinations. New customers. New customers to buy old product. New products to sell to old customers. Then it hits them: New products to New Customers. New products to sell to new customers.
What new products can we sell? Who the heck would buy it? The answers always works it way to Weapons. Armaments. Drone components. Then you get to the part of the contract that talks about developing relationship with factions likely to become influential in a Industrial Feudalist type of post Oil economy. Who will be your dark, reptilian master? Whoever this turns out to be, let me assure you that they want bulk haulage of aggregates, gravels, sands, and rocks. Cheap, and lots of it. Trucks, roads, workers, and facilities. That means coffee and hookers. Beer and polish sausage, by the five gallon pail.
I, Fenris Badwulf, copied this from an e-mail. I cared enough to do that.
The Magic Donkey is a store that caters to the Dungeons and Dragons market in Mitchieville. You can get your troll figurines, books of spells, and Game of Thrones t-shirts there. They have a no smoking sign out front. Smoking is a social plague for which many layers of government will fight by shoveling money at most anybody who fills in the right forms. The money flows, and there is no effect on smoking.
The social plague of smoking sits upon the fevered minds of the progressives like dog turds in a park. Did you know that smoking is considered a fetish by some people? When will these people get organized and get recognized as a member of the deviant sexual practices community? LGBT blah blah blah. There should be a S in there, for smoking fetish.
Remember the Vagina Monologues? When you were in university learning socialist theory in math class? Well, the new deviants on the block, the trans deviants, they got it denounced. Neat, eh? Well, it is time to join the rainbow parade and spark up a smoke. Time to embrace diversity, and they better embrace your diversity. Remember when women (back when women had vaginas) were not allowed to smoke? Well, by smoking you are raising awareness of that glorious struggle. Your inner feminist (even if you have a penis) is shouting out for liberation from the patriarchy. Spark up that smoke when you are in a bar, restaurant, or asthma clinic. Progressives are, well, stupid. At least the cadre at Mount Holyoke College are. After a lifetime of listening to their bitchy whining, it is time to be bitchy too. I want a handout with that hand job.
And what of the Magic Donkey? In the back, if you read the notice board, you will see a message board for the pony play community. There is something so progressive, so liberating, about a woman (with vagina) being trussed up in a leather harness, gagged, and prodded with a whip to pull around some guy (with a penis). You can just slurp up the white guilt with this aspect of the rainbow of diversity. All very normal, and if you say otherwise, you will get hated. Who wants to be hated? So come on down to The Magic Donkey, and celebrate the rationalized pleasures of the gay mafia. You can read some ‘about to be kicked off the reservation’ postings by soon to be oppressed activists. Ah, how the wheel turns.
Easter is upon us. Easter is a time when hate filled white racists worship their god of hate, eat unhealthy food, and persecute minorities. The newspapers do not even report on the widespread practices of witch burning, queer bashing, and trans-fat gobbling. The newspapers and television stations live in fear of Christians and only report news that makes them look good. Canada is a police state, with slavery, oppression, and poor food choices. Canada is a racist shit hole.