Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Whatever the opposite of deprecation is...

You know, I spend a lot of time on this blog trying to showcase my humility with plenty of self deprecating humor and the occasional bitterly emo post.

Not today, bitches.

Today, I'm going to tell you what Chris By-The-Throat brings to the table.  Think of it as my freestyle SHTF resume.

I am stealthy and cunning and full of tricks.  I read quickly, retain information well, and have much sharper hearing than the average jerkoff.  I can take a hit like a motherfucking champ, from a bong or a fist or a chain.  Unlike most nerds, I have a decent charisma score.  I surround myself with useful people and retain their absolute loyalty through the simplest of methods-I expect it.  Not because I deserve it, but because I give it in return.

I'm smarter than a lot of motherfuckers and more expressive than most of them.  My empathy borders on the frightening sometimes; I can cold read like a carnival magician.  I'm quick, way quicker than anyone will be expecting given my linebacker build, and even if I'm not quick enough, I'm practiced at deception.  I have swum the shark filled waters of the underground economy for a long time and never been eaten.

I am wise enough to wait and wicked enough to decieve.  I can go where I want and get what I need.  I know how to learn.  I know how to teach.  I know when to cover and when to reach.

Look out for me, world.  I'm here to rock your motherfuckin' face.

Saturday, July 28, 2012

What's Up, Scumfuck?




Sorry folks, training is kicking up into high gear and I'm trying to get a manuscript ready for submission by September.  Holy Plot Holes Batman!  It has so far taken longer than writing the fucker was, but I figured that when I started work on it.  My most frequent curse is "WHY DID YOU MAKE THIS STUPID SHIT PLOT CRITICAL?"

Training in stick and knife arts 2 days a week and MMA focused BJJ 3 days a week.  I want to bemoan the time and money expenditure but honestly I feel a lot better when my training is sorted out; I have more energy and am generally in a better mood.

Started principal shooting on the knife skills video; it is much more complicated than I thought.

Anyway, in case you wanted an update on things, you got it.  God willing I'll be able to post some actual content.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

ZOMG On Demand

Holy shit another shooting.

Fuck it.

I'm sick of getting peripheral blame for shit like this.  Every time it happens, the predictable vulture screeches go up from the disarmament lobby cowards, and I'm sick of hearing it.

I'm not going to take a bunch of time to pick out the stupid things that the disarmament lobby cowards are saying; other gunnies are doing a fine job of that.  I'm not going to drop a long screed about how inanimate objects are not responsible for behavior and how "ease of killing" is actually an equality factor rather than a terrible scourge.  I'm not going to validate the media filth by describing how Insta-Fame (Just Add Bodies) is more of a cause than access to weapons.

You wanna know what I am going to do?

I'm going to strap on my weapon and go to a fucking movie.

Friday, July 20, 2012

More Timely Than Ever

Macdonough's Song - Rudyard Kipling

As easy as A B C"--A Diversity of Creatures"
Whether the State can loose and bind
In Heaven as well as on Earth:
If it be wiser to kill mankind
Before or after the birth--
These are matters of high concern
Where State-kept schoolmen are;
But Holy State (we have lived to learn)
Endeth in Holy War.

Whether The People be led by The Lord,
Or lured by the loudest throat:
If it be quicker to die by the sword
Or cheaper to die by vote--
These are things we have dealt with once,
(And they will not rise from their grave)
For Holy People, however it runs,
Endeth in wholly Slave.

Whatsoever, for any cause,
Seeketh to take or give
Power above or beyond the Laws,
Suffer it not to live!
Holy State or Holy King--
Or Holy People's Will--
Have no truck with the senseless thing.
Order the guns and kill!
Saying --after--me:--

Once there was The People--Terror gave it birth;
Once there was The People and it made a Hell of Earth
Earth arose and crushed it. Listen, 0 ye slain!
Once there was The People--it shall never be again!

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Cut It Out, Goddamnit

Listen folks-you need to stop chest thumping about the healthcare bill.

If this is your line in the sand, then get to work.  The bill has already passed.  Remember what Kerodin  discusses here.

But the fact is that control of your body was already ceded to the .gov when our grandparents decided it was OK for the Feds to ban the use of certain psychoactive chemicals on account of their evilness.  Your fleshy meats stopped being sovreign territory a long time ago, and this bill is simply the logical extension of that line of statist thinking.

Is a stupid, bungled, overcomplicated atrocity that will harm the very industry it purports to reform?  Yeah, of that I have no doubt.

Will it actually increase healthcare costs by forcing everyone in healthcare to hire more and more compliance lawyer drones of the Mandarin class?  Duh.

Is it, when looked at objectively, an unconstitutional violation of your personal freedom?  You betcha.

But the only difference between the healthcare bill and drug prohibition is that there is a chance they might start killing your people instead of mine.  My people have been dying of "The Human Body As Public Property (For Your Own Good Of Course)" since they rolled out prohibition in the 20s.  It pisses me off, but I haven't popped the nuggets of any DEA agents yet...because popping DEA nuggets would not be a productive route to the changes I want to make.

At least, for now.

Monday, July 16, 2012

Nothing to see here folks

Day of Action Inflation

Indiana Antifa-the group claiming responsibility for the "Tinley Park 5" who have been charged with storming a White Nationalist meeting in Chicago-have proclaimed July 31st as a "Day of Action" against racism.  I keep up on this group as they are local to my AO and I'd like to know in advance if there are going to be riots and shit in my city.  Of course, since a bake sale is on their list of acceptable measures to take against the scourge of whiteness or whatever the fuck it is they are protesting, I'm not exactly breaking out the body armor and chest rig yet, but I like to be aware of it.

Anyway, I keep hearing this term thrown around in what passes for the underground in modern America.  "Day of Action."  As in, choose one day and take action.  A sterling idea, I suppose, but by my count, Occupy, NBPP and some other leftist groups have had six "Days of Action" out of the past 365 and I haven't seen the streets of my city running with the blood of capitalist pigs yet.  I haven't even been late to work due to the flood of protestors blocking the thouroughfares.  Six Days of Action and I haven't even smelled a single burning tire.

You know, back in the 90's we had real riots.  People got killed, buildings got burned, shops got looted, and America watched with bated breath for the outcome-and survivalists sharpened their knives and waited.  Now I'm so goddamn jaded with the concept of "DAY OF ACTION!  GRAB SOME PRESS, MAKE WHITEY AFRAID!" that I'm not even going to call a Defcon code to the rest of the tribe.

You sad fucks need to consolidate your Days of Action.  Day of Action inflation is clearly running rampant.  Discarded calendar pages are piling up like Weimar republic bills.

Sunday, July 15, 2012

If SHTF I'm Coming To Your House

So LizardFarmer has a post about preparedness as done by the typical "zombie level" enthusiast.  The post is here if you are interested, but I wanted to give my take on this statement of "If SHTF, I'm coming to your house!" from people who play the theoretical game but aren't willing to invest the money or time to be a serious prepper.

My typical response?  "Make yourself useful, and get used to your place in the heirarchy."  What some people who might show up do not know is that their place in the heirarchy might be "Zombie Bait" "Pack Mule" or "Cannon Fodder."  I've had decent success as an evangelical prepper, that is, I am good at getting people to make some basic preps, but many, maybe even most, never get past the Bug Out Bag level and so they think will show up at my house with a backpack full of mediocre gear and no appreciable skills.

Some of these people are friends of mine or Amanda's who like to yuk it up about zombies but don't make any serious preps.  And contrary to most prepper wisdom, in my mind that is fine-as long as they don't mind being consigned to the bottom of the deck.  You don't get a copy of the SHTF folder, you don't get a copy of the code sheet, and no one trusts you with a rifle-but if you want to hump 50 pounds of water for us, we'll give you a spot around the campfire and feed you if you don't bitch too much.

If not, well, fuck you very much sir or madam.  SHTF is no place for useless mouths.  Maybe you should have thought of that before there were shamblers pounding at your door, you stupid shit.  And believe me, I'm going to be one of those assholes that says that with glee.

What else gets somebody bum rushed out of the group on Z-Day?  Insubordination will be a big one-everybody will want their jackass opinion heard and the very reason there is a chain of command is so we don't have to listen to your bullshit.  I anticipate about half the slick urban hipsters we know will go their own way at that point.  I plan on making it clear from the beginning so I don't have to feed them.  Theft of tribal materials will probably rate some savage justice ending in expulsion.  And one more thing-if you can't fucking keep up, that is too goddamn bad for you.  I'll stick my neck out for a tribe member whose committment to the group has been proven, but I have no spare skin for dabblers.  Also, on a vehicle bugout, if cargo space is limited, then, well, goodbye poseurs.  I'll take a crate of MRE's before I'll take some people.

Will I make an exception for a hot sex slave?  I tell myself no, but Amanda will probably talk me into it.  I think she already has candidates picked out, but she won't tell me who they are.

Anyway, that was my take on the subject at hand.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

My Life In Monster Magnet Lyrics

Fell asleep and barely got Gracie to school on time today, so you get facebook droppings.

My homie The Bastard Alaskan did this once and it looked fun.  Here's the game: You take one artist and write out your life story by cutting and pasting lyrics from their songs.

My Band: Monster Magnet (There could be no other)  Presented ee cummings style without grammar or punctuation, because fuck you.

Act I: Eerie Indiana
well im a pumped out freak on a big wheel
and im crossing a frontier of lies

your life slips through your hands like grains of sand you watch it go
theres no time to be lost youll pay the cost if you say no

im telling you freaks i got eyes in the back of my head
and i can hear you laughin at me when im lyin in bed
you better be righteous when your cuttin it up
cuz youll be doing it wrong and ill be fuckin you up

the tvs gone and you been half an hour paid
and your punk rock band still sucks anyway

thunder in a tube top now i wanna get high
slaves of the mother rock cut me another line

your feet the hampster wheel
run like hell go like hell yeah
so scream as loud as you can
im not here man im gone
well i stand on the mountains of mars
sparking up man im gone

i think i wet my pants doin whippets

all the lies that you tell me
all the lies i told myself
there are freaks comin on now
they can screw themselves in hell
gotta know where it is that youre headed
rape the sun to stay alive
im a king im a cyclops
wreck my home burn my eye

Act II: The Great Big Space Fuck

slut machine keep my lovin strong

im afraid of nothin its the only way to be
welcome to the rubber room it was made for you and me
want to see how a snake can fly i believe that you cant say no
just get ready for the world outside
its insane

whos gonna get you from behind
whos gonna wring your little bell
whos gonna con you into buying a television set revolution they sell
well i died a million times
and i picked my culture well
and ill build myself a gate
they can all now go to hell

when your mind goes blank in the pourin rain
and you cant get back on your feet again
when your girlfriend tells you the world is dead
and it just aint workin inside your head
and if you dont like what you see
go ahead and take it out on me

no matter what you say no matter what you do
im never gonna judge you cuz im worse than you

i can read all the lines on your face
i can breathe all the cancer in space
i can love all the worms of your hate
i can live in the void i know i control

Act III: You Still Don't Get The Point You Fucking Idiot

my hands up to the maker
my head down to the bong

who brings you back when youre gone gone gone
who keeps sayin your prayers when youve blown em off

now face the music son
some people live to remember when
but youre no storage space
youve lived a dozen lives since then
so what would modok do
if his memory got too full
hed find the power source
and hed pick what plugs to pull

i can see by the hole in your head that you wanna be friends
your the right one baby
i can tell by the moon in your eyes that youre loved by the tribe
your the right one baby

i have longed for you afar
love sacrifice in my backyard

me and myself killed a world today
me and myself got a world to save
broadcast dead revolution dont pay
strapped up freaks on the lazarus plane
shut me off cuz i go crazy
with this planet in my hands

hey no dont let go of your little daddy

i can see beyond your dreams
i can see it on tv
keep it all for me babe all forever
you can rape the world and be creative now
you can kiss the right side of your brain
they can tell the tarot for the rest of us
and i can crown me tarzan king of mars

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Hey BTT, Why Don't You Ever Talk About Your BOB?

I get asked this once in awhile.  The truth is, for me, the 72 hour kit is a fine starting point for survivalism, but I'm a big boy now and the on foot live out of your backpack bugout is less important to me.  You'd be shocked at the state of my BOB; just food and water and a change of clothes, with a few flashlights and some ammo thrown in.  The bag itself is an unremarkable civillian hiking pack from Swissgear.

My survival kit, the ditch kit, contains my serious survival supplies like mess items and fire starting kit and the like.  I've proven to myself on my bugouts that I can make that work by itself for me in the field, and so my BOB is mostly just large amounts of food and water for myself and Gracie, along with a resupply of ammo (one full loadout's worth) and spares batteries, etc for the items in my ditch kit and web gear.

Neither are particularly impressive, but like I said-I'm a big boy now.  I'm more into the food storage and the every day self defense and the community holdfast concepts than the lone bugout in the wilderness.  In the end, if I do need to bug out, god willing I'll be doing it by vehicle, and in that case I can just toss that fucker in the trunk so I have plenty of food and spare clothing.

I'm contemplating adding an INCH tub or dufflebag as a supplementary item, but it is going to be mostly more food and ammo.  Really, what I ought to do is cache some shit at the BOL instead so I don't have to carry it.  However, there is some shit I want to put in there that might surprise you-not just hemp seeds or a spare bong either.  I actually want to put in a nice suit, my resume and some grooming equipment.  Why?  If I have to INCH, I'm gonna need a new job, so I need to be ready for that big interview.  Bet you hadn't thought of that one, Mr. Smarty Pants Survivalist Hardcase.

In the end, though, I am moving away from the focus on the bugout and moving towards being able to secure my home and neighborhood against external forces.  Part of the reason is practical, as I've laid out-but another part of it is philosophical, in that I don't plan on letting a bunch of lawless cocksuckers run me out of my home.  That doesn't mean the BOB is useless or unimportant-just that it is the least likely of all probable scenarios.  And though it is the easiest thing to take nifty pictures of, you are gonna feel mighty stupid if you blow the main chunk of your time and energy on it and it still sits in the closet gathering dust when SHTF.

Monday, July 9, 2012

No Joint Sweeter Than The Disneyworld Joint

Just got my ass back from vacation in Florida.  I did miss a chance to meet Miss Erin Palette due to my own foolishness and inebriation, but other than that it more or less without a hitch.

Anyway, today's sordid tale is how I went about getting high in Disney World.

There are smoking areas all over the park but there are less than there used to be; I had to struggle to find one.  The process began the previous day when I rolled myself up a slick secret agent using a marlboro and a couple of Marleys.  I slit it up the middle and filled it with a bit of Indiana's Finest, repaired it with a couple of papers, capped it at the end with a little tobacco, and hollowed out the filter with the tip of a knife to let the smoke flow through.  It looked exactly like a cigarette, but that didn't assuage my paranoia enough so I ended up hiding the thing in my wizard's hat-because no one ever searches your mouse ear wizard's hat.

Anyway, I got through the security check without a hitch and went through most of the morning without smoking while I reconnoitered.  In the end, the place was at max capacity that day so all of the smoking areas were full of motherfuckers and I had almost given up by the time I found a place.  It was a spot along the dock right at the edge of Frontierland, where you could watch the steamboats go by.  It used to be a marked smoking area on my last trip, but no more-however, that didn't stop the wrinkled old Indochinese dude that was puffing away on a Camel down there with nobody saying a goddamn thing to him.  Most importantly, the heat kept everyone else in the shade a little ways away so it was basically me and this old dude, and I leaned up on the rail next to him and sparked up.

That ol' boy knew what was up; his nostrils flared and he looked over to give me this big freaking grin and had absolutely no front teeth, like pink gumline all the way from eye to eye.  I couldn't help it; I busted out chuckling and offered him a hit, but he declined.  And we both sat there on a dock below the tourists smoking in a non smoking area, him with his unfiltered camel and me with my joint sweltering on the bottom dock and nobody even looked at us.

There isn't a point to this, if you are looking for one-except that not even the might of Disney security is impenetrable.  I managed to be pretty stoned for the Philharmagic, which was kind of intense; 3D is much more believable when you are high as fuck.  And it was nice getting to put my arm around all those princesses-demurely above the waist, of course.  Also, it makes the subpar food a lot more tolerable.

Next time, I'm eating some mushrooms.

Ciao bitches.