Tag Archives: globalism

film report: Bill and Ted Face the Music

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I grew up with Bill & Ted, the first (Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure) from 1989 and the sequel (Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey) from 1991. I haven’t seen the first two films in literally decades, and vaguely remembered them as goofy, well-made comedies with Alex Winter and the of course more famous Keanu Reeves. The protagonists are basically retarded Californians of a kind I assumed were 100% parody until I met expats like this, and realised, Holy shit, in California everyone is genuinely retarded.

I wasn’t exactly enthused about a 30-year-later sequel, as Hollywood has a bad track record of such enterprises, but to my surprise this was a pretty solid, enjoyable comedy.

The plot, from what I remember of the earlier films, reprises the original need for Bill Preston and Ted Logan to travel in time and collect various notable personages. The Infogalactic entry for the first film:

In Futuristic City, 2688, humanity exists as a utopian society due to the inspiration of the music and wisdom of the Two Great Ones: Bill S. Preston, Esq. (Alex Winter) and Ted “Theodore” Logan (Keanu Reeves). Rufus (George Carlin) is tasked by the leaders to travel back to San Dimas, California, in 1988 using a time machine disguised as a telephone booth to ensure that Bill and Ted, who are dim-witted metalhead high school students, get a good grade in their final history oral report and allow them to pass the class. Should they fail, Ted’s father, Police Captain John Logan (Hal Langdon), plans to ship Ted to a military academy in Alaska, ending Bill and Ted’s fledgling band, the “Wyld Stallyns”, thus altering the future.

From the Future Perfect projections of the earlier films, the duo are destined to write a song which will unite humanity, but in 2020 they are middle-aged failures who can’t even play a wedding song without the guests recoiling in horror; there’s some kind of “reality will end if they don’t play the Song to Unite the Universe in the next 24 hours” plot device, but being largely talentless the pair decide to travel into the future to steal the song they are destined to write, from their future selves. This is by far the best section of the film, as they encounter variously weird loser version of themselves.

As in the earlier films, they have to assemble a band from the distant past. It’s all good-natured fun; however, I couldn’t help but notice that with the exception of Bill & Ted themselves, and Mozart, the band are all “people of colour”; including Ling Lun, legendary founder of Chinese music, but even then it’s not enough that LL is non-white: they arbitrarily decide to make him a woman. I could hardly cavil at the inclusion of Jimi Hendrix or Louis Armstrong, but when I think of the entire history of known music, it is mostly white, unlike the film’s band (mostly black). I’m just surprised they didn’t make Mozart black, or a woman, or a tranny; although I was pleased that they let him expostulate in German without translation, even if he expresses delight at Ling Lun’s flute music (in reality, Mozart hated the flute). There is also some popular black rapper called Kid Crud who is treated as a god of music, but who I’d never even heard of; he talks in the kind of polysyllabic patter common to fraudulent black “intellectuals”, to the point Murdoch Murdoch even had an episode with a black character talking like this a couple of years ago. It seems to reflect a higher verbal IQ, relative to g, among blacks (I’ve also noticed it among the Irish).

The band includes a prehistoric drummer, a grunting negroid creature called Grom, which is also the name of a good Italian ice cream shop. So that’s four blacks, one Chinese transsexual, and one Austrian. 

Finally, when Bill and Ted have the band assembled in the right place, they still don’t have a song, because they are actually talentless; and then realise their daughters can write and perform the song, since all they know is that the Song to Unite Humanity was credited to Preston & Logan, which of course could as well be their daughters . So as with the mediocre Avengers Endgame film, the achievements & titles of white men are voluntarily handed on to women and People of Colour. To be fair, the daughters are music nerds so it is plausible, and actually rather pleasing, that they could inherit the mantle, and the whole thing is so good-natured that I could mostly ignore the anti-white, anti-Western message. 

They learn that it’s not so much the song which will save humanity, as everyone playing it together; I thought then of those who dismiss the old gods as mere Jungian archetypes, or figments of the subconscious – for would everyone spontaneously sing a crappy song in unison? Just as, to be genuinely & deeply popular, a song would need to obey eternal musical principles, so one could say that Jungian archetypes like Wotan or Apollo would have no lasting value, did they not reflect something real; if they were not, in fact, real. 

The song in question is actually just bland noise of some sort.

The supergroup of a prehistoric grunting negroid drummer, the fraudulently transsexual inventor of Chinese music, Mozart, Louis Armstrong, Jimi Hendrix, and King Crud, produce an utterly unmemorable barrage of vaguely musical exuberance. It’s a  phenomenon I’ve noted with other supergroups, e.g. The Traveling Wilburys; you would think that a group comprising Bob Dylan, George Harrison, Roy Orbison, Tom Petty, and Jeff Lynne would be pretty amazing but I found their music to be on the minor side, pleasant and hummable but nothing more, as if all that talent mostly cancelled itself out. Perhaps, that’s the secret Globalist message of the Bill & Ted song, to take all the variety and greatness of humanity and align it to create destructive interference, to reduce everyone, to reduce variety and greatness and birth der Letzter Mensch, the “last man” whereof Nietzsche wrote. 

Amusingly, the hideous wedding song Bill & Ted play at the beginning is actually pretty good, a kind of late 90-s Spiritualized work:

I was pleasantly reminded of Spiritualized’s majestic ‘No God Only Religion’:

although, to be fair, it’s hardly a wedding song. Perhaps the genuine diversity of the Earth’s human races & ethnicities & cultures strikes the average globalist as a highly disagreeable, jarring dissonance, much as the above wedding song or ‘No God Only Religion’ would the average listener (I was utterly alienated by Spiritualized’s “noise” tracks until I saw them live, whereupon something clicked). And for me, the bland homogeneity of the film’s final song is just dispiritingly empty, a fitting music for der Letzter Mensch.

While it is a good-hearted, fun film, it is anachronistically so. In the late 80s and early 90s, in that interim between the Cold War and 9/11, there was time enough for fun, for optimism; in 2020 it seems strange, not so much naive as wilfully oblivious. The time for fun has long since passed.

book report: The World is Flat, Thomas Friedman

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An enjoyable read, I think from 2005 or so. Friedman presents a fairly balanced picture of the globohomo; it is mostly about how wonderful it is that billionaires will make beaucoup dollar from outsourcing everything to India, but Friedman does acknowledge that a lot of goyim will end up losing their jobs and need to be retrained as IT specialists and Marketing managers if they want to live, conveniently ignoring the IQ bell curve and the societal consequences of breaking up communities and families.

Friedman travels the world, always seeming in accidental proximity to globohomo billionaires and CEOs. I have a different perspective, having spent the last decade talking to the people who have to deal with lying 3rd-World contractors, and to the quality control guys who wearily report a tenfold increase in problems since manufacturing was outsourced to even the 2nd, let alone the 3rd-World. I’ve met enough (hundreds) of these people to feel confident that the globohomo mostly only benefits the 0.01%, such as Friedman. Here’s a nice picture of Thomas Friedman, dancing in his 10,000 dollar suit before the Ark of globohomo as your town becomes Detroit:

Oh wait. Duh. I mean:

That’s a Rolex Datejust on his wrist, by the way: it costs as much as I make in a year, before tax. I’m presently reading John Saul Ralston’s The Collapse of Globalism, which so far seems a partial antithesis to Friedman’s entire corpus, though from more or less the same era. Such books, being typically from Cabal think tank/journalists, are usually propaganda with some interesting ideas here & there. Friedman writes well, he’s the kind of bluff farting uncle who sits his 7-year-old nephew down to tell him “son, when you’re a man you have to wear trousers with a belt. You know what a belt is, son? It’s what men wear. Heh heh heh. Hey, pass me some more of that bagel and lox, eh? Like I was saying to Saul Goldstein, that’s the CEO of Megacorp, just last Thursday, I was coming off a plane from Nairobi, great town, just like Vegas, gorgeous, they had gefilte like you wouldn’t believe, and the women, they got the best there, cheap too, that’s the great thing about globalism, son, you can get everything cheap. Blowjob, that’s like 20 cents, US cents. You know how much that costs in DC? No of course you don’t, you’re just a kid, but you and me gotta go out one day, when you’re 12 or 13, you get the Bar Mitzvah, we got out together, get us some of them nice shiksas, blonde eh?, heh heh heh, they won’t be around much longer let me tell you, me and my buddies are clearing all them Nazis out, soon it’ll just be us kiddo, us and a lot of the others, you know the diverses, the vibrants, they can be our slaves like the Talmud says, we get two thousand eight hundred each, pretty good eh? So this shiksa and her daughter, heh heh heh, I doodled them, son, good and proper, they had to leave their goy village, these Nazis eh? and I doodled them, ten cents each, that’s globalism son, never forget it, you know they killed your sister in Auschwitz, she was only a kiddo like you and they did it anyway, they got it coming and anyone says different is an anti-Semite, remember that, just call them an anti-Semite and they got to shut up” and so on, though obviously Friedman wouldn’t say anything like that. Look at this honest face.

All in all, it’s a good read. Friedman has quite a pleasing authorial persona, which means that even while I disagreed with virtually everything he wrote – mostly from a philosophical perspective though some of his glowing words would be refuted by anyone who has worked with Indian IT support – I nonetheless enjoyed my ordeal. It will be the last Friedman I pick up (I only read this, and the earlier The Lexus and the Olive Tree because I found them 2nd-hand), since there is only so much to be gained from the works of a Cabal puppet, but I would recommend the book for anyone studying globalism.

However, may the reader beware.

Globohomo got its eye on you, boy.

reading a face: Roger Scruton

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I was listening to a youtube clip of (I think) Mike Enoch and Dr Narcan of The Right Stuff, a bit too carny for my tastes but there was an amusing moment where they discussed some paleocon/civic nationalist type, someone like Tucker Carlson, who was still clinging to the hope of rational discourse with the Left; one of the two said something like: “someone should just put a gun to the Left’s head, I understand he can’t do it, because he’s a conservative. He should ask me, I’m a fascist, I’ll do it.”

I still find such honesty a little shocking, regardless of my degree of agreement or disagreement (but then I live in Germany, a country where you can go to prison for speculating that maybe only 5.5 million were in the hall of cost). When I saw this photo of Roger Scruton, I thought, This is a man who wouldn’t put a gun to anyone’s head.

He can and often is forceful and critical, doesn’t strike me as conflict avoidant or easily rattled, but like most people he was formed by the era of his youth – he is an early-stage boomer (born 1944) who grew up in a time of low immigration, relative social cohesion, and so he has a gentle, open character, a very English tolerance for individual difference, also note his rumpled attire and face. It’s a nature largely incomprehensible to the German/French elites, who tend to the totalitarian & perfectionist & utopian. That disordered right trouser leg is why e.g. Germans think the English are eccentric; when Germans try for spezzatura or eccentricity it just comes across as, well, trying. The whole point of the old English style – a largely bygone characteristic – is to rub up against the grain of obdurate life, and spoil your perfection. It is the culture of the Common Law we had before the EU, of genuine (not enforced & alien) diversity within a genetic group, of a million unplanned & fortuitous events, of accident and humanity, exemplified in Scruton’s right trouser leg, in the legendary origin of The Order of the Garter:

Various legends account for the origin of the Order. The most popular involves the Countess of Salisbury, whose garter is said to have slipped from her leg while she was dancing at a court ball at Calais. When the surrounding  courtiers sniggered, the king picked it up and returned it to her, exclaiming, “Honi soit qui mal y pense!” (“Shame on him who thinks ill of it!”), the phrase that has become the motto of the Order.

Reminiscent also, as Wikipedia notes, of Sir Gawain & the Green Knight, one of the quintessential, strange poems of the old, now largely destroyed England. That one of the highest orders in the land seems to have originated in one of these

slipping down a woman’s leg and then being adopted as a mark of status by the various toffs (who at that point were also trained in combat and tended to be routinely murderous) is typically English; at least England as it was before it was systematically destroyed by globohomo and mass immigration.

Perhaps in some distant, post-Race-War future, a new and better order of knighthood will emerge, in which one’s right trouser leg is slightly rolled up; the right, not the left, to distinguish one from the Masons.