More News from the Western Front

Demented paralegals storm the barricade demanding lifting injunction as to know what shampoo brand the president uses. WE DON"T EVEN HAVE A PRESIDENT, YOU VULTURES!  (why don't you go and wait for a school bus to fall in a ditch)

If east is the new east, then where do our spices come from? (She needs a back rub, I can tell).

The Hermitage is the new Russian water cooler, a surrealist Muscovite told me as I stood in the sea of people calling for artists to have free dental service.

"Lucifer himself painted my face black" was a minstrel classic, circa 1903. I wonder what happened to that singer (yes, dead. As he should be)

She had "Ochi Chernye", just like the Ivan Rebroff song. The red square is being refurbished and will become the "Piazza del Maroon Sovietika". All the artists get on a soviet tank and head westward, only stopping for gas at a local Polish pump station (5,000 rubles on pump one, and make it snappy)

If I was a Nazi hunter, I would trial them but not kill them. Instead I would make them work 14 hour shifts at a south London kebab shop (hold the mayo, you fucking Nazi!)

"Sayonara Kimosabe", a voluptuous Japanese madam steps on my toes, (she can pee standing up. That is why she's in the stall next to mine). She obviously hadn't heard about the "bomb," not the atomic one, but the new trend of glow-in-the dark sneakers.

I order her to come and shine my shoes. She pours Sake into my mouth from a crystal Third-Reich goblet. Those are the only reparations I need (From the Germans. The Swiss have yet to pay me back)

Knick-knack Paddywhack is an old Irish drunk I knew, or at least that what I called him. He raised the Royal Doulton Dorchester Crystal wine glass, which is full with High Commissioner Whiskey, and we toast to the fall of the empires and for youth.

He commented, slurring his words:

                                                                               eugene abeshaus Za"l (nice painting)

Pubescent coup d'état is the only way to make the gravy train keep chugging!

                                                                                                                                                             © 2010 All rights reserved to E Nechin

תתכונן ילד, ערוץ 2 קורא לך

"איפה היית כשרבין נרצח?" הכתבת בעל פני הסוס מערוץ 1 שאלה קשיש בנחלת בנימין. הלז התרגש מהמעמד, טלוויזיה וכו'.  "איפה הייתי?", אומר כמנסה להרוויח עוד שנייה לחשוב על מקום יותר אקזוטי אך לבסוף ניכרה האכזבה בפניו, "הייתי בבית מול טלוויזיה". היה נראה כאילו חושב, "חבל שלא הייתי בכיכר. אולי הייתי יכול לעמוד ליד יגאל עמיר. כמה כסף ההוא שצילם את הרצח עשה?".

לפני שנתיים פחות או יותר "כוכב נולד" נבחרה לתוכנית העשור. אמרו שהיא חיברה את הפריפריה לתל אביב, יצרה סופר סטארים אמיתיים בפעם הראשונה והצעידה את הטלוויזיה הישראלית אל עבר אחיותייה באנגליה וארה"ב.

אך האירוע בניצנים מתגמד לעומת אירוע מושקע אחר. האירוע  המכונן אשר בנה את ערוץ 2 היה רצח רבין. הרצח מיצב את הערוץ כמוביל ובעצם קבע א הלך הרוח של הערוץ – סדרות רכש מובילות מארה"ב ו"הפקות מקור" זולות אך מרגשות ומאחדות.

האם הייתה הפקה יותר טובה מזו של הרצח? גיבור מעמד הביניים, לוחם השלום הבלתי מעורער, אשכנזי יפה בלורית נורה על ידי הג'וקר, נסיך התלתנים, אשר למד בבר-אילן, רחמנא לצלן.

פסקול – יש, בדמות ישוע השנקינאי, נציע הנוער המורד שהפך לעציץ בלובי של חברת סלולר. סלוגן  - "שלום, חבר" במבטא אמריקאי דרומי עם ר מתגלגלת, ממרלון ברנדו של העניים אשר בא ללטף לנו את האגו, ,"ראית כמה דלגציות באו להלוויה?" העולם איתנו ויעקב איילון במרכזו.

מה יותר זכור? מתמודד זוכה במכונית יפנית וסיגל שחמון אחת ב"גלגל המזל" או המסך המפוצל של הפיגוע בתל אביב עם משחק הכדורגל, "כמה כמה?".

סטיבן שפילברג בוודאי החוויר כשראה את ההפקה הנוצצת של קיץ 2005 – התנתקות בצבע כתום, חיבוקים מאולצים וסרט המשך בצורת סוס פוני שמביא בעיטה לאפי איתם בראש.

מרק ברנט צריך לבוא לישראל לקחת שיעורים. להם יש את ההומו השמן, לנו יש שתי רוסיות חטובות וויקה.

 

Go Fish!

Creatures of the sea unite!

We are no longer in a happy-go-lucky era where people were afraid to go into the water. "Jaws" is 30 years old. Even killing the crocodile hunter did not help.

We need to devise a plan to save our Tuna brothers. Yes, shark fin soup is a delicacy, salmons are being plucked out of icy Norwegian waters, but out Tuna brother are in the gravest danger of all.

Every single day, millions of cans are being stuffed with the flesh of our comrades, traveling to dellies, being put on Salad Nicoise, mashed up with mayo and mustard.

This genocide must cease! If this situation will not improve, tunas will be wiped from the earth. In that case, we must do as they did in Masada, two thousand years ago. We would rather commit suicide than to be captured.

If the time comes, do the following: travel the sea, find any debris, swim to any open sewer. Take your own life by eating poisoned substances or swimming on polluted areas. This will ensures those creatures from above will not use our meat. We will be dead, but at least we will keep our pride.

Don't let the pole and line ideology trick you. Humans will not stop till they have eaten every last one of them.

Whether you have guiles, are a marine mammal or even an amphibian, fight back and unite!

English Winter Poem

Good Morning,
It's dark,
Fuck it...
Let's head to the pub.

The poem from the side is now on top

Wa-ever

It's all out there just grabit.
In time you will see that it's all a
Real façade.

Neglected and absorbed in humility
We are left side winded,
Nevertheless we are stretching the canvas along the blocks,
Parks and roads,
Waiting for the painter to capture that still moment we can reminisce for the rest of our lives.

No one can be salvaged from the
Numbing nostalgia,
From the discreet charm of absurdity, directed by Bunuel, Barthes and Babel,
Revered by all,
Despised by lovers.

Cursed are the meek that make us feel guilty for our vanity.
Blessed are the scavengers who just doit.

On automatic post-human synthesized dance companies

                                        Photo - Man Ray (he was from Philly you know!)


An excerpt from an interview with the man in the street: "I feel insulted as a man".

Perfumeries and haberdasheries were swarmed today by angry consumers complaining of out-of-date fashion accessories. Peackockish ladies and stern gentleman were seen throwing rotten cottage cheese tubs on Oxford Street. At the UBS headquarters a riot broken out between groups of protestors arguing about Marx's commodity fetishism. One group claimed it had to do with concepts of alienation, the other claimed it was dealing with leather.

An excerpt from an interview with the man in the driver's seat: "I am embarrassed as a man."

Not since the queen's coronation there has been so many people showing up to watch a puppet show. Critics are unanimous; it is the worst display of       bad  taste they have ever been subjected to. Even minstrel shows were more politically correct. One critic: "Never again", the other critic: "Never before…"

An excerpt from an interview with the man in the iron mask: "I am ashamed as a man."

Let the show begin so we can see the automated breasts flicker in the spot lights, like head lights of a car colliding into a ten ton truck…

An excerpt from an interview with the man in the moon: "I was mortified. I am No more." 

© 2010 All rights reserved to E Nechin

Catholic Football

Catholic Football

A Christmas Lullaby

Latinos can dance, Chinese can cook,

The Indian clerk smell like curry and the Kike is a crook.

Jews Had Einstein, Blacks had Malcolm X

Blacks win gold in the Olympics, Jews write checks.

Irish can fight, Italian bust balls

And the black guy has the biggest in the bathroom stalls.

Blacks can rap, Jews can moan

Blacks can get hanged, Jews can burn.

Japs can be bombed and Mexican can be deported,

An Arab woman can be lynched and it won't be reported.

And Africa, who cares,

We only care about sex and stock shares.

Muslims are primitive and Jews are conniving

Christian are dumb, but good in public affairs.

On this day of Joy

For the western world

When Jesus was born

Or that what we are told.

Have a merry one

With your chocolate and all that light,

Happy holidays to all the shoppers,

The great mall in the sky wishes good night.

Signs you're Getting Fat #345

You have just won a pie eating competition; a Sheperd's Pie eating competition.

Everything you wanted to know about university #1:

1. Not all the women in the feminist society are lesbians; but by the way they look, it doesn't really matter.

2. Even Stalin was shot down by chicks when he talked about Marxism.

3. If you are studying philosophy, be nice to the lunch lady. After all, one day you will need her to cover your shift.

4. Yes, it is immature to laugh each time your professor says "Queer Theory"

5. Even though it is hilarious.

6. "20^th century urban experience" does not mean riding on a night bus through a bad neighborhood.

7. If you can't spot the smartass in you're seminar that asks the most stupid questions, it must be you.

8. Good marks are great but an inhaler and a fanny pack will help you much more excelling in biology.

9. Linguistics were invented so the professor can shout motha fucka in the middle of the lecture hall without be considered mental.

10. History is the unique combination for people who on the one hand did badly in school and on the other don't have friends.

How big is that chair?

Julie Andrews in "Sound of Music II - The Revenge of
Gretl".

Paranormal Subjectivity

All eyes were on him. The President, the head of the C.I.A, the secretary of state and even the young snooty aid. Tears began to well up and he felt like he couldn't take anymore. The lies, the secrets, the deception. Every day waking up and putting a facade. He knew his career would be over if it were to leak. He wouldn't be able to go to buy milk. His children, his wife. But he felt it had to be done. That morning, in the daily cabinet briefing, general George Mills, a four star general, confessed before the cabinet that he desired to become a woman.

He was a woman for the past four years, on "Second Life". In the site he was named Laura Mills, Second Lieutenant in the in the Corps of Engineers, married and mother to Ashley, 12, and George Jr., 5, named after his father. Living in a white picket fence house, Laura enjoyed the high-life, enjoying hosting cocktail parties for George and his friends from the ad agency. Living close to the base enabled her to pick up her kids from school, cook dinner for George and attend weekly tap dancing classes. As vice president of the PTA she organized the upcoming winter carnival. She even got Tony Bennett to appear on the main float. Tony Bennett was actually Charlie Milbank, an ex-con who served seven years for armed robbery. After landing a job as a line cook, Charlie spent every waken minute on the site, accumulating fans and friends, appearing each night at the best night clubs and casinos. Every other day buying a new suit and visiting the barber. Six months ago, after a routine mole operation, Tony Bennett went to Acapulco. It was the best time he had in Years.

George Mills put his resignation letter on the oval glass table. He didn't even wait for the reaction of the people in the room. He knew he had to go. After all, the army wouldn't stand a middle aged overweight general with a pare of breasts and shaved armpits. He couldn't say it was for "personal reasons". He just couldn't hold it in his stomach. Come what may. The only thing he felt sorry for were his soldiers. After his family there was nothing closer to him than the troops. He would spend each Christmas in a remote base. One time in was in the pacific. Another it was in Central Asia. Darn, how could he tell his wife she was going to a lesbian? George did not fancy the boys. He always thought that was a bit perverse. He loved his wife and wanted to love her as a full blown woman. If only she would understand. He knew the cabinet wouldn't understand. That is why he told them first. To get that part over.

George pulled his chair way back because his stomach was ledged under the table. He stood up, saluted the people in the room, put his cap under his arm and marched out of the room.

That night Laura hosted the most exquisite cocktail party. The surprise of the evening was the un-announced arrival of Tony Bennett. He came to town two days earlier for a prostate exam.

Immigrante Manifesto/E Nechin

• I have decided to be silent no more. That is why I bought a loud typewriter.

• I sat down to write the next great American novel, but then I realized I was Russian

• I sat down to write a Russian masterpiece, but then I realized I wasn't suicidal

• I bought a typewriter because I am a romantic. It's a pity however that I need to use the computer spell check in every sentence I write.

• I want to write as well as Kafka. I just don't want to turn into a bug.

• I want to be influential as Marx. The only problem is I can't grow a beard.

• I write to reach catharsis…at least that's what my analyst says.

• I love bob Dylan, I just can't stand his voice.

• I would have wanted to be born black. I just wouldn't want to go through the hardships.

• I would like to be a freedom fighter. I just don't want to get killed.

• I want to be a trend setter. I just don't want to be an outsider.

• I advocate the redistribution of wealth. The only condition is that it will start with me.

• I want to direct a movie. The only problem is I don't like giving out orders.

• I love foreign movies. The only thing I don’t have patience is reading the subtitles.

• I would like to be a stand up comedian. The only problem is I can't tell a joke.

• I would like to teach a in the university. I just don't want to study ten years before I start.

• I write to attract women. Well, that's it. That's the whole point.

• I sat down to write the next great novel but then I realized I don't have anything to write about.

First Light - From Austria to Israel and to London

Fartog means dawn or first light in Yiddish. The Blog is named after the street I use to live in which is named after a Jewish magazine published in 19^th century Vienna by Smolenskin, Gordon, Lilenblum and Shlomo Rubin The paper advocated radical ideas, discarding the emancipation leaders such as Mendelson. But the most famous writer is Eliezer Ben-Yehuda who published his first article called "Burning Question" ((שאלה נכבדה

For what ever reason it might be, Smolenskin is forgotten and all we are left with is a pseudo intellectual, who invented a scrambled, incoherent language. Plus, his son was more annoying!

This blog concerns alternative culture vs. Mainstream idiocracy; maybe here is a good place to start.

Above: Jesse James or Peretz Smolenskin?