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thank you!

What do you think about Harper endorsing Pierre Poilievre for party leader?

Stephen Harper is irrelevant and a terrible man.

He and his opinions are trash. I created this blog partly to encourage people to get rid of this asshole.

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this is so soft

An Evening at Home Edward John Poynter, 1888

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How do I make tumblr posts

Like really please teach me 

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Blundstones and Neo-Nazis

February 4, 2021

Romper Stomper (1992). Directed by: Geoffrey Wright. Produced By:  Film Victoria. Starring: Russell Crowe (Hando), Daniel Pollock (Davey), Jacqueline McKenzie (Gabe), Alex Scott (Martin).

Romper Stomper is a film that depicts the lives of a group of Neo-Nazis as their cohesiveness disintegrates in the face of a changing society. The film juxtaposes two reactions to this disintegration in the characters of Hando and Davey. Whereas Hando becomes unhinged and lashes out increasingly shunning the needs of his group as well as the reality of his situation, Davey questions the practicality of following Hando down his spiral. Such a contrast is made more apparent by the love interest of the film, Gabe, whose relationship with Hando suffers as Hando loses his control over his life, while her relationship with Davey grows to have feelings of love in a group where genuine care is scarce.

The film intends to depict the uncompromising nature of white nationalism. At the very beginning of the film, Hando is surrounded by a group of friends who party together and all share in the revelry of their perceived racial superiority. Yet, as he is asked to yield ground on his beliefs, whether that be to allow the Vietnamese-Australians to buy his favorite bar, or when the hanger-on women of his group disapprove of murder, He doubles-down on his erroneous belief that following the dogma of white nationalism is the right course of action.

The film succeeds in bringing its point across not through the character of Hando, but through the choices that Davey makes when presented with the same situation. For example, to Hando, Gabe is another sexual conquest to had his way with while he praises Adolf Hitler and the 4th Reich, yet to Davey, she represents someone that took the time out of her life to care for him when he became wounded. She shows him a side of the world to which he is not accustomed, and demonstrates that Davey is not as indoctrinated into racial theory as Hando. He wants the companionship that Hando has shown him in this group, but is less ardent in displaying active hatred. Tellingly, it is only after Gabe kicks the Vietnamese owner of the pub that Davey finds it alright to show off in front of her and beat the man bloody. This conflict of values between the love and care he seeks and the racist world to which he belongs come to a head in the final scene on the beach. There, as Hando is suffocating Gabe with all his animalistic hatred, Davey choses to put an end to his friend’s life, and thereby putting an end to his last link to his former life. Davey’s choice not to subdue Hando, but to straight out kill him, show the only response that white nationalism offers to all its adherents, either you stand with the neo-Nazis, or you oppose them; both options lead to the eradication of the other.

The most obvious comparison for Romper Stomper is American History X (1998). This Tony Kaye film depicts the life of a white nationalist in America as he tries to rehabilitate his life. Both films show the unforgiving nature of becoming involved in the male dominated, racist world of white nationalism. The depict men having huge booze filled parties, and networks of friendships that consider each other as close as kin due to their racial parity. The endings to both films hint at the same message, though American History X offers a take that is far more tragic than its Australian cousin. For while there is a redemptive component at play in the character of Davey, in American History X, no matter what strides Derek Vinyard makes in his own relationship with other races, his family still suffers for his chosen past.

  Punk rock is a genre defined by short bursts of anti-authoritative energy. To this end, the backing tracks to the fight scenes in Romper Stomper are extremely effective in energizing its audience. While the actions on screen are hateful depictions of racially motivated crimes, the backing tracks bolster the positions of both sides of the conflict. If you are watching this movie with the intent of idolizing Hando, then the lyrics of the “Fourth Reich Fighting Man” will confirm not only the glory of the cause that you are fighting for, but also that there is already an established group of people making action music for your movement. Likewise, if you see yourself represented in the plight of the Vietnamese-Australians climbing up the tire structure to defend their newly acquired bar, then the lyrics of songs that are filled with hatred towards all types of minorities will make your own blood boil and beg for these men to be destroyed. The soundtrack to Romper Stomper underlies the message of the film that hate breeds hate.

On a personal note, one of the things that struck me the most is how much the neo-Nazis of Australia love Blundstones. This made sense to me the more I thought about it. Blundstones are an Australian product, and they love all things made to represent white Australia so of course this would be no different. The only thing is that I have spent a lot of years among liberal arts students of all races, religions and creeds, and we LOVE a good Blunstone too. So to see such an iconic piece of Halifax liberalism crushing the hand of a Vietnamese man who is trying to escape a gang of neo-Nazis, well, that woke me up.

Review: https://www.theguardian.com/film/australia-culture-blog/2014/jan/10/romper-stomper-classic-australian-film

In this review, Luke Buckmaster ponders at the nature of the film’s ending, questioning if  “Wright being ironic? Sarcastic? Dabbling in some kind of horrible last-minute black comedy? Hando's takedown feels mean-spirited at best and sadistic at worst.” While I feel like in a traditional movie, this is worth considering, Hando is hardly a usual protagonist. Even an anti-hero like Walter White has some modicum of sympathy that the audience can cling to in order to make the case that they are cheering for him. In Romper Stomper there is no attempt to sway the pathos of the audience. Hando does not try to redeem himself, or overcome his personal shortcomings. To Mr. Buckmaster I reply, that there is no irony in Hando’s death. It is the rightful cathartic end to a life that bred racial hatred and was wholly unapologetic about it. This is also to the benefit of Wright’s defense in filming a movie filled with hateful scenes of racial violence. At no point does he try to make Hando a sympathetic character, precisely because there is no redeemable quality in the way that Hando relates to his ideological stance.

Overall I give this film a 7/10. This falls within the realm of movies that come to have surprised me in some way. Romper Stomper is an action movie filled tale that verges on being moralizing without holding its audience’s hand. The main Faultline it falls on is that its message might be too subtle for its own good. In the quick google search I found at minimum two racially motivated killings or slaughters whose perpetrators drew inspiration from this very movie. Regardless of the artistic intent behind the film, such a real life consequence within the content that Wright presents has to come with a dire warning that it did not do enough to dissuade its audience that Hando is no hero. Even in his own review, Luke Buckmaster, whom I have to assume is no neo-Nazi glorifier finds the death of Hando possibly ‘mean-spirited’. A narrative that lacks blatant condemnation of white-nationalist ideologies while degrading its protagonist leaves Hando as an idol, martyr and symbol for all those who believe in that hatred.

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Kevin Hart's comedy special "zero fucks given" has the same energy as that one scene in Bojack Horseman where the frat boys praise him for being a new right wing star.

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“Thump thump thump”

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I need more goth cowboys in my life omg

Marilyn Manson, Las Vegas, Nevada, June 27, 1997  - Photo by Anton Corbijn

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Diss Track

I left for class. Once I got there I told one of my two friend in the room that I had a surprise for him, but that I was waiting for it to become available. We then sat around hitting refresh on our phones until this promised nonsense emerged. Eventually, he saw he was tagged in a diss track made expressly for him. Now, the quality of that track doesn't matter. I hardly remember it now. It was a soft, intimate joke among friends that will hopefully elicit fond memories when one of us stumbles upon it while accidentally scrolling through our camera rolls. My friend, well he was certainly excited, as he often is when something pertains entirely around him. He asked me questions, whispered in a rushed but engaged manner. However, it was in that moment that the Professor who had indeed been teaching a class about some English topic shot us a “what are you guys doing with your phones?” look, and that sent me shock waves of repressed public school trauma. Its not like we were being disruptive, she just needed to feel like she was in absolute control of the room. I really felt embarrassed and terrible about this whole ordeal and now I feel like I have a vendetta with this professor. This is a shame because I need her to pass me so that I never have to do any of this fucking bullshit again. God I now hate her though, and it is a good thing that I don’t know her name so that I cannot curse it into the skies. To be fair to her…OH Wait, this is my story and I refuse to give her any defense whatsoever. I spent the rest of the day cringing at myself for this and I still hate it. Being called out in class like that, and it is going to sound strange to say this, but it is a very childish act. Like dude, if we are obviously not paying attention that’s not an invitation for you to try to engage us again. That‘s a sign that we have been reading a 900 line poem bit by bit and that maybe this is the most boring shit on the planet. I’m sorry you teach a whole course on Chaucer, and I’m sorry you love the Tale of Gamelyn, but you know what? I’m embarrassed and now I want to die, and I now have a stress vomit nearing the outside of my mouth because I need to be productive today and not worry about the fact that she gets off on picturing herself as this savant with unfettered access to all knowledge that she is so kindly passing on to us from the goodness of her being, and that correcting our non-disruptive and non-violent behavior is part of that benevolence she show towards us. SOMETIMES people just need to see their friend’s diss tracks so that they can have their heart rate lower mmmmkay? Fuck. Fuck you and the whole English Department. May this team of professors never again make any academic contribution to the study or preservation of the English Language and its Literary heritage. Fuck you all.

No You know what, one more note, just one more fucking actual note on an event that took three seconds but seems to have struck a deep and unnerving chord in a dark part of my brain that I clearly can’t control. I hope that this chronicle, despite its literary worthlessness makes it out into the public domain and I hope that one day, at least five people whom I will never meet read it. And then I hope that those people get this far and have never heard of the English Department in this University. And then I hope all that they equate with your name is the infantile quality of your education staff and the power trips they go on because ‘teaching has to be done in only one way’ and your teachers have never considered that although they pay lip service to liberal policies and ideas it is their own worthless existence that makes the world such that I wish I’d have a bowl of excremented porridge shot into my eyes straight from the anal fissures of Hitler himself. Then I hope all of those people, who I will never meet, do not send their children to this University. And I hope that starts a trend among their peers and I hope the whole university goes bankrupt. And I hope that, after the former grounds upon which it stood becomes a parking lot, or one of the many 50 yard plains that Jeff Bezos builds to host a solitary stool for when he wants to rest his balls or whatever it is that rich people do, upon that parking lot or that stool there is a single plaque remembering the fact that had it not been for some hard ass in the English Department this space might have been something. Then and only then will my rage subside.

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Imagine how different life has always been.

Like I could have been an Egyptian farmer in pre pharaoh times

Or a general in the Canadian side if the war of 1812

Or a five star chef in new york

Damn

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My sleep is such that I cant tell when the depression naps end and the actual sleep begins at this point

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3 in 1

The other thing about small town life is that everything happens at the same time.

So today I'm going to have brunch with darci, followed by hunting for a tree with jasper, and then video games with sam.

Yet the rest of the week I did nothing.

It's like the stars align on a Saturday

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Boredom

Theres only so much youtube one can watch in a day.

That's a sentence I've been saying a lot, not because it's true (a lot of people binge youtube daily) but because I feel a sense of disgust in my bones at how much youtube I've been watching.

The problem is that I've come home for the holidays, and as tends to happen in any small town, theres nothing to do. This would not be so bad if there was a core group of friends I still had. But this round of small village life also came with an outcast status like never before. (Deserved or not that's a question for another time)

And so I am bored. Bored not because theres truly nothing to do, but because there is nothing for me to put my personality into. There is no creative outlook in my world. And that's really hard.

If anyone has some small town survival tips I'd love to hear them.

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Made a poll on my NYE party about who is likeliest to be trashiest and I'm currently winning...I hate my friends

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The site is dying rb this if u want a playlist for ur blog while it still exists

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Would the word manlicious refer to a delicious man or to something that is delicious to men?

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Honest thoughts on procrastination

So like, its come to my attention that I tend not to do things as opposed to doing them. To a large extent this is because I hate doing certain things? Like why do an essay now that's due later. I easily could. And it would help me, yet here I sit entering my third hearthstone brawl of the day instead f achieving work.

Part of me thinks that I is a simple matter of values. If I really cared about essay writing then I would get to work. But I dont.

Another part of me thinks it's a life issue. Like if the world ended right now I dont want to have been editing an essay for a professor that doesnt know my name and could not care if I passed or failed his class.

But also. I'm not paying attention to the brawl because I'm blogging. And I also stopped blogging cuz I wanted to go on reddit.

Help me

Plz