Posts Tagged ‘Fear Mongering’

Democracy is four wolves and a lamb voting on what to have for lunch.

― Ambrose Bierce

Bayou Saint Basil, one hour from Tampa, FL (depending on traffic)

The acreage I am surrounded by is pure jungle and gator-infested swamp. The air is alive with the screeching of insectual horde, crickets or locusts or some other exoskeletal shit-eater, all of whom found the same cacophonic pitch right at dusk and have been screaming away ever since. This is home. This is real Florida.

I have been residing in this bayou bungalow ever since the Governor’s voter purge threatened to take away my voter rights for having travelled to three or more communist countries (of which, I will admit Vietnam and Cuba qualify – but Canada?). Rather than suffer the possible purge of Rick Scott (who also appears to be coaching the Miami Dolphin football team), I came here to conserve what rights I have left.

“Who wants shrimp!?!” Nixon, perhaps at the ’72 Ice Gala

Very near Bayou St Bas is Tampa, Florida, where the Republican National Conventioneers are preparing for the greatest GOP party since Nixon’s Shrimp Cocktail on Ice Gala of ‘72, an event so scandalous the press nicknamed it Watergate-Gate. Despite the eager anticipation of the upcoming convention in Tampa, there is an underlying anxiety. Even as the shrimp and strippers are bussed in by the tonnage, there is an uneasy anticipation of the threats creeping along the dark and murky waters of the Gulf of Mexico: the impending path of Hurricane Isaac and the lurking Soviet Akula-class nuclear submarine.

Sure, all of the cable news networks are talking about Isaac and the threat it poses to overflow Tampa’s Bay, but there are few, if any, murmurs on television about Ivan and the Russian sailors refueling at the sunken Deepwater Horizon. According to “reports”, Russian Premier Vlad “the paler” Putin has had one of his nuke-killer submarines patrolling Gulf of Mexican shores for most of this summer – all without being detected by the US Navy’s satellites, anti-sub patrols and laser-equipped dolphins. The Akula class submarines were built to silently hunt and sink American subs, qualifying it for all sorts of devious tasks along our domestic shoreline. This story may have not reached mass-media, but it has definitely floated to the surface in the hallways of RNC HQ in Tampa.

Akula class submarine… perhaps off the coast of Sarasota?

Texas Republican Senator John Cornyn has written a letter to the Chief of Naval Operations demanding an explanation, mentioning in his letter that such events are especially troubling given the military cutbacks of President Obama. The Navy, last I checked, never bothered responding. In fact, many are ignoring the reports, possibly because they came from the Washington Free Beacon (not to be confused with Washington Free Bacon, which does not exist regardless of what the lobbyist is telling you), a blog-site specializing in propagandizing hawkish budgets. When the Houston Chronicle asked Pentagon spokes-sailor, Lt Commander John Fage, he didn’t grant the Free Beacon any credibility, “We are aware of the reporting but we see nothing to indicate it is true.”

Could all this be a carefully orchestrated ruse meant to humiliate the US Navy and Obama’s budget cut proposals? Yes, according to my blog source for all things Lesbian, Lez Get Real. Lisa Carbonell finished her blog with an interesting remark, “We are left with dumb, stupid question of the week about this: if the sub went undetected by our Navy for two whole months, how did the Free Beacon find out about it?”

Vlad “the Paler” Putin on a Horse

Of course, there is the possibility that the Russian thug, Putin, is mocking the RNC safety exercises put into motion last spring by sending one of his stealthy subs to wink it’s periscope at the vulnerable bitch that is Tampa Bay. If this is possibly the case, should we even be worried? Chicago Tribune blogger Steve Chapman notes the inferiority of the Russian Navy – we out number their ships 2,384 to 233.

While Putin can puff out his chest for the camera, doing so by swimming his subs off of Clearwater would be no more than the act of an underwhelming/overmatched bully. Pick on someone your own size, Vlad, like chick punk rockers.

Perhaps, then, we can dispel with the rumors of one antagonist along the Gulf Coast and focus on the remainder: Hurricane Isaac. Fortunately for me, and for you for that matter, I am a professional hurricane preparedness specialist. I may not have any particular training beyond a rescue diver certification and years of pizza delivery experience in monsoonal climates, but I do intend to make money off of my skills, thus I am a professional. Which… kinda sounds valid.

Hurricane Isaac, the uninvited guest to the RNC

But enough of the small talk! My right-wing conspiracy theorist partner-in-crime, Cyrus Lee Hancock and I will be travelling middle Florida this weekend in anticipation of Isaac and the convention goers. We will be encouraging the peopled streets to hunker down with lots of snacks. We will be interviewing the gaggles of prostitutes gathered for the RNC to determine their overall storm preparedness. We will be preaching virtues of post-cataclysm survivalness, like being able to cook a rabid raccoon, finding clean sources of water and polygamy. (Wait… what? I swear this note is not in my hand-writing). And, damn it, we might just save a life or three in the process.

Once the storm passes, we (“we” being Cyrus Lee, your humble navigator Vic Neverman and the lady conspiracy cadet Bo Lynn Belle) are heading west to the Rocky Mountains for Labor Day revelry of such unnecessary and unnatural dimension something of its like has not been seen since, ironically, the Nixon Shrimp Cocktail on Ice Gala of ’72.

Reality is what you can get away with.

Robert Anton Wilson

Conspiracy Theory 101: do not believe every conspiracy theorist believes his/her own proposed theory. While conspiracy theorists are driven by paranoia, many (present company included) are also driven by a desire to conspire. In short, we have conspiracy envy – we want to be the one in the shadows with all of the power. All great conspiracy theorists would make excellent conspirators, we just might lack certain essential resources (various means of influence: be it money, prestige, feminine wiles). When a conspiracy theorist pushes a theory – keep in mind their end goal may not be exposing truths, but manipulating opinion.

Fast and Furious was the name of a government operation involving gun-walking: legally bringing weaponry into Mexico. The ATF could not arrest those who legally purchased 45 assault weapons and took them south of the border as it is all legit, so they decided to track the guns to see where they might go. Unfortunately, Border Patrol Agent Brian Terry was murdered by one of the guns being tracked and now we have a controversy of epic cluster fuckage.

Enter Obama and Attorney General Holder. They have taken advantage of Executive Order in order to conceal certain details about Fast and Furious from the public. Whenever there is secrecy, there is the vulnerability for conspiracy theorists to draw their own constellations out of the stars. The largest player on the scene is the NRA, whose political influence stretches from the far right to left of middle. They are claiming Fast and Furious is a diabolical plot by Obama and Holder to allow guns and eventual mayhem in order to justify tighter gun-control restrictions. The NRA is saying this is a scheme concocted by the Obama administration in order to throw out the 2nd Amendment and disarm Americans.

This is righteous bullshit. Stay with me on this folks, the NRA is brilliant for a few reasons and I will spell it out in good time… For now you should realize what is apparent: Americans are apathetic towards Mexican violence, and thus, this proposed plot. If Obama was going to take advantage of a situation to mandate tighter gun laws, he would have jumped on the Gabby Giffords near-assassination or the Gary Zimmerman neighborhood watch murder. He did not. Gun rights are safe, my friends. Safe for now.

The NRA and the “pry it from my cold dead fingers” bumper stickered truckers have always proposed a leftist agenda to take away the right to bear arms. To assume Fast and Furious is a plan to help advance a disarmament cause is to assume 1) this administration is capable of such a massive smoke and mirrors plot, and 2) the left is completely oblivious to the fact they would be voted off the island the minute they attempt to take rights away. There is no plot by the left to disarm Americans, what there is brilliant political maneuvering by the National Rifle Association. To heighten fears of grandiose espionage against gun-holders is to ensure that even the minimalist gun control legislation is shot down as “the first step in the Left’s agenda to disarm all Americans”. For the NRA to insist on the Left’s attempt at absolute radical reform is to guarantee the slightest measures of gun control are not broached.

This is what I, Vic Neverman, fully believe. There is no plot to take away our guns, only an agenda by the gun lobby to ensure any and every one can get their hands on as many rifles and ammo as deemed necessary. In order to seek out validation, I took my thoughts to Cyrus Lee, gun owner and founder of O.A.S.I.S. (Oviedo Army of Security, Intelligence and Survival – a Neighborhood Doomsday Watch group). Of course, whenever Cyrus Lee is involved, somebody is going to be in a world of hurt. Today, that somebody is yours truly.

Cyrus Lee agreed to meet me at a post-apocalyptic training center in Central Florida where paintballs are used to simulate actual bullets and wooden barriers act as an urban warfare scene. CL put me on a team of misfits – your typical Floridian redneck in camouflage (Note of Interest: as hillbilly as my compatriots seemed to be, their women who fought beside them were attractive, intelligent and hell of a lot ballsier than their manfolk). Through the course of several hours of battle simulations on the hottest day of the year, I was cut to pieces by Cyrus Lee’s gunmanship repeatedly. He let me know what I was doing wrong: I was both too aggressive or too passive, my head was too big, I stayed in the same position long enough for the enemy to flank me or I moved around to haphazardly to allow a sniper to shred through my vertebrae. I sit here at the computer, writing of this experience and can boast a full dozen purple welts across my body – all attributable to Cyrus Lee, the self-proclaimed “Apex Apocalyptist”.

“You’re like a coyote, Vic.” Cyrus Lee told me. “You’re not completely useless, but you are also not Joe the Plumber because your only skill is writing and you never see authors in Mad Max movies, do you? You are sufficient enough to kill rabbits and subsist off of road kill. You’re adaptable and a little wily. You might last a fortnight once the shit hits the fan.” Ahh, yes the mythological SHTF moment when the End Of The World As We Know It begins without ever looking back. Cyrus Lee added a final comment, “You won’t be the first to turn cannibal.” It wasn’t much of a compliment, but it was enough to allow me to sleep more easily tonight.

Cyrus Lee might have an army of hillbillies, but the man himself is more worldly than you would imagine. He even has dual citizenship with a certain European locale that is not Italy, though his Italian heritage had him routing heavily for the Italians against Spain in the Euro Soccer Final. That is right – he follows soccer, not NASCAR as you might imagine. It was while watching the Italy v Spain match we finally discussed the political motivation of Fast and Furious.

“Obama and Holder are hiding something, for sure.” Cyrus Lee began, recalling the Executive Order to suppress information from being released. “The NRA knows this isn’t the crackpot scheme they are claiming because they are in on what is truly going on.” Cyrus Lee, gun owner and card carrying member of the NRA admitted. “They might not be in on the conspiracy, but they are in on the cover-up. They are putting this gun control conspiracy out there as a red herring to disguise the real issue. The NRA is shielding the truth not to help Obama, but because George W is the one that began the whole fucking thing.”

“What whole fucking thing?” I could barely wait.

“The drug violence in Mexico began when the Zetas came into power. It’s all Byzantine city-state cartel politics down there, but before there was just the Sinaloa Pacific Cartel against Tijuana. Once Los Zetas came into the picture, SHTF in Mexico, bro. There once was peace with Sinaloa ruling the roost. Now there is competition and war. Tell me, Vic, in all your foreign policy knowledge – how does the United States react to regional disputes abroad? They pick a side. The Americans and the Mexican Federales picked the Sinaloa. The Americans are arming the established Mexican Cartel against the chainsaw barbarian Zetas.”

“Shit.” I realized. “Even the hactivist group Anonymous has taken up the cause against the Zetas.”

“Well, now, Anonymous is not someone I want to speak for. The last thing I need is them hacking my wife’s Facebook account and turning it off for an hour. You get the point, though. What Obama and Holder are hiding is the fact we have been funding and sending weapons to the Sinaloa drug cartel in an effort to help defeat Los Zetas. We can’t be arming drug lords, at least not publicly.”

“We armed Al Qaeda to take on the Russians in Afghanistan in the 1980s.” I thought aloud.

“Exactly.” Cyrus Lee finished his tall glass of Coors Light. “As usual in America – the story the networks are batting around is just the red herring. The real story is what they are not talking about. Fast and Furious is not about domestic politics, it is about taking sides in a drug war between rival cartels. George W Bush began the policy, so the Right cannot condemn it. Obama has continued the policy, so the Left cannot express outrage. Best bet for all parties is to keep it under wraps. The NRA is helping by pointing elsewhere to the origin of the stink.”

Prepping for the Inevitable END: Neverman and Cyrus Lee

Greetings Reader and Fellow Traveler,

Welcome to this, the 100th Vic Neverman blog. As intrepid of a reader as you may be, I doubt you have read the entirety of the first 99 blogs. Truthfully, I hope you have not read each of the preceding blogs out of a fear that the resulting unnerving may have literally melted your wits into some tapiopic goo. Perhaps not literal tapioca, but certainly some metaphorically similar pudding-esque substance. You see, I fear the meme-shattering revelations disclosed in these writings may be harmful to your skull jelly and should be taken in moderation. Certainly, pregnant women operating heavy machinery should refrain from reading the entire NeverArchives in one sitting. At least while smoking.

Regardless of how you have found your way here, I once again welcome you as friend (the exception being the domestic spies tasked with monitoring my banter, in which case you’re doubly welcome to my prose abode). It is my intention to profit from this irrelevant numeric milestone by creating some meaning out of it, much as an alchemist may make margarine out of bottle caps and disposed contraceptive devices.

In our search for meaning, let me begin with the statistics

At the time of this writing, the 99 blogs have been viewed 8,765 times. The first blog was written on 1/15/2011.

Out of the last two months
o 46% of the nearly 1600 viewings were from within the United States
o 9% of these viewings were from Canada or the United Kingdom
o 4% were from India.
o Indonesia, Germany, Italy, Serbia, Hungary and the Philippines were the next highest populations of viewing, comprising of another 10%

Out of the 8,765 all time views
o A whooping 48% of these views were for a single blog, my farcical Hulk movie concept
o The two Qaddafi blogs received 8% of the views
o 2% were for my Roswell blog
o 43 views were for my “Occupy Orlando” expose in which I rediscover my knickers
o 1 view was for my Vatican blog. Thanks Mom.

Google was the most popular search engine to refer readers to Neverman. The searches that brought the most readers included
o Anything with “hulk”, especially “angry”. Far and away, this brought the majority of unsuspecting googlers
o “Qaddafi”
o “Drazen Petrovic”
o “Wikileaks Pat Tillman”
o “Khrushchev”
o “roswell alien”
o “Jesus revelations”
o “romantic comedy concepts” No shit. Which would refer the googler to my David Koresh Rom-Com idea

81 views occurred on Vic Neverman’s busiest day, 2/28/2012

For a startling anecdote relevant to Vic’s busiest day, please look forward to the upcoming 100th Blog Amendment.

Of all the blogs, we have uncovered many characters. Some of the favorites:
• The Destroyer, a snitch from Vic’s days in Portland
• ZombieGurl, the wonderful & unobtainable madness that was she
• Phineas Crux, part-time antagonist, part-time ally. After recent talks, PC and VN have sound boarded various schemes to take advantage of the 2012 Maya Apocalypse hysteria.
• The government contracted spook of a brother-in-law who is featured in the latest TransAmericana blogs
• The NeverSister and her daughter, the NeverNiece
• Reverend Chette Williams, the alias of the phantom merchant of death. His warnings set my blog afire, yet he has retreated to the shadows in recent months. After recent visits to Southeastern Conference football sites, I have found his postings circulating in greater number. Especially in regards to Bobby Petrino, former coach of Arkansas. I foresee a day coming soon when the Reverend returns to the Neververse.

Vic’s Busiest Blog Day (amendment to the 100th Blog)

February 28th, 2012 was the busiest day ever for Neverman. Leap day, the very next day, was narrowly the 2nd most viewed day. This is no coincidence. In the month leading up to this great accomplishment, Vic Neverman had found himself in a typical paranoid romance with someone, perhaps, a little too closely tied to mainstream. In fact, this woman dictated to the mainstream as she was a fear-monger for one of the local news affiliates in central Florida. Vic even wrote some fear mongery for her in classic conspiracy theorist style. For example, she would have to promote a story about a Gypsy menace in Daytona and I would write some drivel about locking your children at home. For those that know me, Vic Neverman, this flies in the face of everything I stand for. Yes, I am a conspiracy theorist, but I despise modern media for their fear mongering. Even the NeverSister saw through the relationship, saying the newswoman and I were from opposite sides of the paranoid romantic coin. What we had in common was the paranoid skill set, both of us writers with an eye for the absurd. The difference was while I plied my trade in service of the public, she raped the peoples’ imaginations for the sake of her corporate overlords.

Still, there was chemistry to our paranoid romance and our courtship continued fairly merrily. Our mutual folly finally came to fruition when I betrayed my secret identity and exposed myself to her. Exposed my Nevermanliness, that is. I told her I was, indeed, the voice of the lunatic fringe, the underground crusader, the emboldened broadcaster of all that was bullshit: Victor Ulysses Neverman. This was 2/27/2012, a very slow blog day. The next day, after looking into the Neverman blog, the newswoman emailed me about our “conflicting interests” and wished me luck elsewhere. With elsewhom. I didn’t even get a chance to confess to her, at great personal shame for my role in her hijinx, that the Nevermen actually derived from Magyar/Gypsy hybrid bastards.

The Neverman home site (coincidentally, the same page promoted on the business card I handed her) alone had 40 something views over the next two days. 40 views each day… 80 total (other blogs drove up the number of total views). The reference tool that brought all these new views to my home page? Facebook. One need not be a conspiracy theorist to connect the avarice blotted dots. My paranoid romance discovers my true identity, shuns me, but then promotes “Vic Neverman” to her immense collection of online friends. Yes, that is right. My best days ever as a blogger likely came from a Facebook post, “OMG! I dated this guy for a month before learning his true identity. See the link below. Where do I find these guys? LOFL!” Yes, my best day as a blogger was the ass end of a bloody joke.

Am I bitter? Only when reliving the tale through this composition. Does such mockery threaten my Neverman Raison d’être? Of course. But it is typical when the public is faced with an uncomfortable truth to first deny it and then ridicule it and finally put it on reality television. In truth, I find my former lady to be a worthy nemesis. The main reason I did not write a larger blog detailing this paranoid romance is because I knew that was exactly what she expected me to do. And so, I hide her away in near obscurity as an addendum to my 100th blog!

Tusc and I became friends the old-fashioned way: in a drunken punch-up over a girl. I don’t remember much about the girl… and Tusc doesn’t recall anything at all. Fortunately, there is enough urban legend lingering around (search any library for “epic poetry of late 21st century”) to remind us all of the auspicious beginnings of the Tusc & Vic alliance without need of any further nose bloodying.

Years ago - Vic and Tusc prepare to dive to the center of the earth as the menacing waters of a sinkhole await

In the days that have since transpired, Tusc and I explored the labyrinthine submarine/subterranean Florida aquifer, we’ve chased rogue moose atop cross-country skies in Wyoming, and we’ve blessed countless football tailgates with our denim’d asses. Tusc even named his little lion man of an offspring “Kohvic” which on the surface seems like he just made up some random bullshit, but once you understand our history, the name of his son is obviously a homage to I, Vic Neverman (with “koh” resembling the prefix “co-“, as in “fellow of Vic”, similar to co-worker, co-pilot, etc.). If not obviously a homage, then arguably and if not arguably then coincidentally

With all of this history behind us, it was difficult to believe we had never faced quite the challenge as what lay ahead of us on this day. The day of the Armagedd-Run! One would not think this field trip into our own backyard would be so intimidating, yet I couldn’t help but feel an ominous rumbling in my suspicious gut (they say the gut is the most intuitive organ, which is why any properly paranoid conspiracy theorist almost always has irritable bowels).

“Tusc, we’ve seen a lot of shit together.” I spoke from the gut to my comrade. “A lot of shit, man. But I have got a bad feeling about this. A real bad fucking feeling.”

“Dude-bro, shut-up.” Tusc cursed me from behind the wheel of his family wagon as we journeyed through the orange groved valleys of middlest Florida. “You better stop saying that before you mess with my mojo.”

“Real bad.”

Tusc and I were wandering into this central territory of the state, far from the reaches of snow-bird tourism, to engage in a doomsday festival. Gathered by the tens of dozens of dozens in a stretch of Florida pine scrub were Revelations fanatics, Millenialists, survivalists, Maya Apocalyptophiles, and a miscellany of just over-all gloomy people. The purpose of this event was to simulate the “left-behind” apocalyptic scenario. If you believe nuclear war is imminent, or that Jesus will rapture the saved and leave the rest of us for the anti-Christ, or that genetically modified corn is going to create a zombie super-virus, or that a resource shortage will result in a global socio-economic meltdown, or that the Mayans predicted a complete polar shift in 2012, or that aliens will want to eradicate the human species before resettling Earth – this is your party! Welcome to Armagedd-RUN!

Pre-race, Neverman is caught on camera by the paparazzi

Rather than risk being identified as the renown Conspiracy Theorist, Vic Neverman, I decided to disguise myself as the right-wing extremist, Bucky Swoon. A bandana and feline tank top later and I had become Bucky: a proponent of state secession and anything related to the American Revolution (“Betsy Ross wouldn’t stand for this bullshit!”) or random American history in general (“Don’t tread on me you Benedict Arnold motherfucker or I will Aaron Burr your ass!”). As my alter-ego, “Bucky”, I tended to have a lot of popularity amongst the Daytona 500 Book of Revelations crowd, making Armagedd-RUN! a great networking opportunity.

My team may have had less colorful tank tops, but certainly were not without character. We were captained by Mrs Tusc, a lady so crazed she once jumped on the bare-backed wild mustang that was (long ago) young Tusc and tamed him into a bewildered domestication. The rest of the crew was a hodgepodge of misfitted adventurer. Together we were unstoppable, or so they said. My gut spake otherwise…

“Tusc, man… I just got a real bad feeling about this.”

And why wouldn’t I? What lay before us was a treacherous course of mud and obstacles, fire pits and wind tunnels. The four horsemen stood chuckling on the sidelines as these ever-eager doomsdayers did the apocalyptic labor for them.

“We’ve seen a lot of shit, man. But this…”

Ozzie Osborne was playing at the starting line as the hundreds of dreadful racers stretched, prayed, and gave their last confessions about cousin-fucking and whatever impure beastly thoughts that ran ramped through their faulty-wired minds.

MadMaxian Nightmare: a muddied Vic runs with Tusc and Mrs Tusc close behind
I tightened the bandana over my head, “I’ve got a real bad feeling about this. I wish you would have let me drink that bloody mary.”

“There are no bloody marys at the end of the world.” Tusc mentioned. “If you hadn’t been out boozing with Raz Kelly last night, maybe you wouldn’t need a bloody mary to get rid of your bad feeling.”

“Well…” I conjectured, speaking in my southern-fried Bucky Swoon accent, “I done figure the end of the world ain’t likely to announce itself a day in advance and even if it did, I probably be just as hungover. If we are simulating the last days, I might as well assume the hangover position.”

“You can assume my foot up your ass if you keep up your mojo-fucking-with.”

The race began and the doomsdayers jockeyed for position, hurrying in half-step through the gates and onto the dirt path. The runners screamed ecstatically about imminent death as they dashed along the trail. Those screams would quickly fade as the front sprinters crashed into a giant mud pit. A sucking wet mass of black earth swallowed limbs and spirits as the “survivors” struggled through. My beautiful white tank-top soon turned to midnight as I wallowed atop the mud, reaching for a lost shoe and attempting to not be trampled by the runners who realized it easier to run on the backs of the fallen than to try their footfall within the muck.

In the future, there will be lots of inconvenient campfires... (or "how Blue-eyes burnt his whiskers")

As I breast-stroked atop the quick-sand agony, I pondered if the fight against the end of the world would even be worth it. Schopenhauer’s “will to live” certainly would give way to a sense of pragmatism and a stronger “will to eat chocolate-covered bacon” as death beckoned at the door. If this was a simulation of the end of days, I should be on the sidelines with a beer. At least, Vic Neverman would be on the sidelines with a beer. Bucky Swoon would kick like hell… though still with a beer.

Tusc pulled me out of the pit, which was no easy feat as the thick layer of mud added 15 pounds to my overall weight. My feet plodded heavily as the caked soil enlarged my footprint. Fortunately, the next obstacle a half mile ahead was a swim within icy black waters of the winter swampland. The cold water took my breath away along with the mud. I swam to a platform that simulated either the Titanic or the iceberg, climbed over it, and swam further until land was underfoot once again.

Our team raced through a junkyard, envisioning the lost souls trapped in the twisted metal beneath our feet. We helped each other over a wall, imagining the grasp of zombie and/or cannibal scavengers at our heel. We spider climbed across a web of net, sprinted up a dirt mountain, and distanced ourselves from certain demise. We leapt over pits of fire as hell reached up from below. We crawled through more mud as barbed wire teased our scalps from above. Finally, we reached the finish lines. We had survived. At least we survived this… the practice round to what may someday be the last day.

At last, I had my victory beer. My fingernail dug some mud out of my ear as I turned towards my friend, “You know, Tusc… you and I, we’ve seen a lot of shit together. A lot of shit… and I have a real bad feeling about what we just did.”

Crossing the Finish. Vic was charging the final mud pit full of steam before spectators screamed at him to slow-down. The pit is lined with barbed wire, forcing racers to swim/crawl beneath. Just another near-disembowelment in a day of the life of Neverman...

I have developed a new word to describe mankind’s obsession with doom. The root is fatum, Latin for doom. And fittingly, it may also be used to refer to fate or destiny or even to describe something weird. The suffix -philia, of course, is used to demonstrate an abnormal appetite. So ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you for the first time ever: fatumphilia!

Some would argue ‘fatum-phobia‘ would better describe the doomsday hysterics that will accompany the Mayan Calendar apocalypse theory (which is a false interpretation, by the way). I disagree. Doomsday hysteria isn’t a fear, but rather a psychological disorder tied to a sadistic, ego-centric, end-of-the-world fetish. There is fear involved, sure. A fear of death will drive anyone to madness. Fatumphilia, though, actually alleviates this fear in potentially two ways… which I will get to… all in good time (don’t worry, it isn’t running out).

The first way involves religious rapture theories. Mainly: when the end comes, so will a savior with a pocket full of salvation and some cornbread for the trip back. Thankfully, the majority of religiously-based fatumphiliacs do not openly announce their fetish for the end (or at least do so looking glum), because praying for mass extinction could be seen as socially amoral. Truly, though, these monotheistic radicals (always the single-deity religions for whatever reason) wishing to immanentize the eschaton (or in layman’s terms, create heaven here on earth by effectively destroying humanity) see their fatumphilia as a testament to their faith that Judgment Day will actually come and prove their morality, resulting in their salvation.

I am not calling all monotheists (pick your poison/cure) fatumphiliacs, only those that obsess with the apocryphal good news their faith suggests (for example, the Book of Revelations, written by the bored exile, John, in his sulphuric hideaway). Anyone who wishes to see their savior return in their lifetime is, in fact, a fatumphiliac given the circumstances surrounding the prophetic return. Hell, anyone who would blow themselves up to become a martyr certainly qualifies as possessing an abnormal appetite for a weird doom.

The second way fatumphilia may stave off the fear of death will work for any ego-maniacal atheists out there (though theists may apply). If you have to leave the party, might as well be at the end of the night. If you have to die, why not bring the rest of mankind with you? No one dies alone if no one gets out alive. For those spurned by society, what would be better than to say “Fuck you, World!” as the lights go out? Yes, fucking the world even brings a sexual edge to fatumphilia… especially with those with their dick stuck in a chicken when all becomes null. Beast-buggery? Why not?

Certainly, the Maya – removed from the bloody sacrificial rites of their ancestors – must be sitting back and laughing at the gringo infatuation with mass extinction. The biggest theme of 2012, drawing-in more international interest than the presidential election or the Summer Olympics, is the Mayan Calendar date of 12/21/2012 when the world will pass through the dark rift and enter into a new age. The misinterpretation is that the end of the calendar means the end of time. This is not so. But there is a demand to believe so…

Fatumphilia creates a demand for doomsdayishness!

Fear-mongery satisfies that lust, but at a cost.

Fear-mongery is a device used to manipulate the public. It could be used in a government context (‘WMD’, anyone?), but is most frequently used by the media (“we’ll tell you if what you are eating right now is killing you, tonight at 11!”). 2012’s Mayan speculation has been a boon to book publishers and cable production companies alike. In fact, I, Vic Neverman, am in the process of negotiating a contract to publish my cookbook, “Vic Neverman’s 2,012 Last Suppers”.

1st note: In the introduction, I mention there are only 300 days left which is why I only included 47 recipes.

2nd note: the cookbook is just the plagiarizing of a Mexican cuisine manifesto I checked out in the library, but I did use a real spooky font.

This is Doomsday Economics: fatumphilia is the demand, the fear mongers create the supply. The machine is fed, everyone is happy. But the world won’t end. Bank on it. Literally. Drink yourself into a holiday oblivion all you want this next December, but keep just enough cash buried in the back yard for 2013. Now that year… that year is going to be a helluva ride.

Saturday Morning, 11/5/11

The foliage at ‘Freedom Park’ is sparse, but bearing enough bushiness to allow me, Vic Neverman, to lurk nearly undetected by the collective mass of protestor. Should I be discovered and interrogated, my cover story was that of wayward coleopterist, searching for the elusive Cicindela sexgutta (a Latin term for the six-spotted tiger beetle). No surprise, the majority of my preparation for this cover was practice saying ‘Cicindela sexgutta‘. The true target of my observations, though, was the Occupation movement that had gathered in this grassy corner of Orlando to protest corporate greed.

Gaustmeister, the co-author of my work-in-process 6,000 page tome on the Fourth Crusade, mentioned (49% mockingly/51% deathly serious) the French Revolution’s Reign of Terror grew out of a similar casual dissatisfaction as what is evidenced by Occupy Wall Street and its spawned geographical varieties. It is with this historical perspective I carried a worst case scenario on this venture. Upon arrival, my attention – and my imagination – was immediately swept up by one of the charismatic leaders of the movement. Fear not: Vic was not swayed emotionally or politically to join the ranks, but rather I became fawningly spellbound by the harmonic voice of this dreadlocked woman behind the Guy Fawkes mask as she yelled out for a ‘Mic Check’. No, I wasn’t about to take up her cause, but I did allow myself to be enchanted by the beauty of her delivered fiery diatribe about the movement not being a fight between good and evil, but rather a fight for fair representation in government. Meanwhile, a counter-protestor held a sign up to inform the crowd that the Tea Party was going to “kick your ass”. Bucky Swoon would have been proud…

One of the next speakers, who followed this Lady Fawkes, had perhaps the worst idea I have ever heard at a political rally. This fantastic fool rambled about how the ‘natives’ owned land before ‘Manifest Destiny’ (which is untrue, ownership of property wasn’t even a concept of Native Americans) and how this land was now under the control of the Mexican drug cartels. This fantastic fool called out the underrepresented ‘natives’ to stand up, leave their reservation and their bingo parlors and take back their land from the cartels. It is idiocy like this, from someone who seemed to be associated with the Occupy Orlando leadership, that is going to continue to undermine the approachability of this cause for the greater public. Which is exactly how I knew she was a plant – an agent provocateur assigned to discredit the movement. Even her Guy Fawkes mustache seemed crooked.

Despite my agitation over the fool and my desire to speak to Lady Fawkes – if only to say the words “Cicindela sexgutta” – I had to remain the impartial observer. It became time for the march to downtown Orlando to begin. I removed myself to a tavern for refreshment and to consult my notes.

Occupy Everything Conspiracies

The first call to protest and the occupation of Wall Street can be traced back to the Canadian anti-materialism magazine, AdBusters. This magazine is supported, in part, by the Tides Foundation, which is donated to by the liberal billionaire George Soros, who happens to admit his sympathy to the protestors. See the article below for the allegation Soros is funding OWS.

The fact that a liberal billionaire might have some connection to the Occupation Movement, in itself, means nothing. The fact that it is George Soros means everything – at least to the radical right’s conspiracy theorists. George Soros is the poster boy for conservative fear-mongers, like Glenn Beck who has led the recent charge in anti-Sorosism, claiming George is a “Nazi” collaborating “puppet-master” behind the “New World Order”. Lyndon LaRouche has gone as far to claim George Soros is a global drug kingpin.

Since many call the Occupation Movement the liberal counterpart to the Tea Party, let us for the sake of argument, call Soros the liberal counterpart to the Tea Party funding fraternity, the Koch Brothers. While Soros might have some extreme conspiracy theories out there regarding him, the Koch Brothers have been exposed of having illegal dealings with Iran. I will take Soros over Koch any day of the week. See the Bloomberg expose on the Kochs below…

Another great conspiracy theory involving the Occupation movement involves a figure right here in Orlando: Shayan Elahi, the legal counsel for Occupy Orlando. In a rant by a United West investigator, Shayan Elahi is claimed to be the leader behind Central Florida’s leaderless “occupation”. The column in the link below mentions Elahi is a member of the Council on American Islamic Relations and then makes a radical jump to insist the CAIR is Hamas and Hamas is the Muslim Brotherhood and thus the organization that stepped into the power vacuum created by the Arab Spring is indeed running the show in Orlando.

While the author of the United West column is an adept at fear mongering, I still find the Islamic connection to the local movement curious. The anarchists, atheists, and hippies I have seen at these rallies are the furthest thing from Jihadists, but the pawns of any good conspiracy would not be the usual suspects. This is certainly one potential plot worth monitoring.

In summation, the most-prevalent conspiracy theories behind the Occupation Movement are reaches for some very biased “journalism” as a means to discredit the protests. While I am not ready to become an advocate for the Occupy Everything, the true motive has yet to be realized by the participants and those that oppose them.

Return to Freedom Park

The true motive behind Occupy Everything seems as elusive as that damned six-spotted tiger beetle. The best speech I heard at ‘Freedom Park’ was by an older gentleman (who admitted to being convicted of a felony via illegal drug possession, and thus being a vote-less citizen) who emphasized the need for all to become informed citizens, to participate in politics at the local level, to invest locally. The overall concept of “if everyone takes care of their own backyard, we will have a nicer neighborhood” is a positive sentiment to take forward, though perhaps a bit too subtle and longterm for those hungry activists in the park who are still split on many issues.

One issue was brought up last week in a general assembly: should Occupy Orlando officially endorse the “Free Bradley Manning” campaign. In an example of sound group judgment, this proposal was shot down. While the Occupation (and Vic Neverman) is a proponent of transparency, and by extension WikiLeaks, the ends do not justify the means and the criminal activity of Bradley Manning (stealing diplomatic cables and sending them to Julian Assange’s WikiLeaks to be published, which in part incited the Arab Spring) should be met by fair* punishment. Manning could be considered a hero, but he should not be pardoned for his treason.

*Many have claimed Manning’s interrogations have been excessive and the UN has not been allowed to meet with Manning to discuss his treatment and these allegations.

Saturday afternoon, I returned to Freedom Park post-march (post my pints of beer) to attend a general assembly. The first thirty minutes were an explanation of the rules of the assembly, how to make proposals, how to agree or disagree, etc. The soothing voice of Lady Fawkes adequately described the process as work and not a lot of fun. It was no surprise that the bandana-masked anarchists had not stuck around for this bureaucratic process. In the extra hour I spent pretending to comb the grass for insects, nothing of importance made its way up the hierarchy to be discussed by the crowd at large.

A cool breeze picked up in intensity and since I wasn’t planning on camping out overnight, I decided to make my escape. I had never said “hello” upon arrival and I didn’t bother saying “goodbye” as I left the park. I, Vic Neverman, do have one final message for the dreadlocked beauty behind the Guy Fawkes mask:

Cicindela sexgutta, baby. Cicindela sexgutta

Perhaps Camping was right and the world did begin to end on May 21st, 2011. It is also possible I have expired and the AfterThis is just a hellish chaos. I was certainly contemplating my own mortality a week ago as I thrashed in the waters of a long dead ship whose ghostly currents pushed me towards a skewered demise against a rusted stake of the ship’s skeleton. I, Vic Neverman, do believe I survived. I believe the Commodore did arrive none-too-early, allowing me to pull myself over the port side of our vessel away from the circling fins beneath my toes. Disaster would be averted for me, but I would eventually return to civilization to find the world at large in complete disrepair.

A lot has transpired while I was away on my tropical expedition. Allow me, dear reader, this chance to catch-up on the absurdity of this long, cruel, summer of fear.

ASSF Men: Vic Neverman, the Commodore, Cuda

Vic and the Aquanauts
I can’t tell you much about ASSF.
I can tell you we are the Aquanautical Society of South Florida.
I can’t tell you what that means.
I can tell you I am one of the founders of ASSF, along with old time brothers-at-arms Cuda and the Commodore.
I can’t tell you what we were hunting in the keys west of Key West.
I can tell you we were there.

The Debt Ceiling/Credit Rating Cluster Fuck

God may not be dead, but surely the Illuminati is. Where are the global masterminds now? There are no more politics in Washington, merely a sorority house rivalry where two gangs of fanatical bitches scream and claw out each others’ eyes. How can there be a middle-of-the-road when the left and the right are not even on the same highway? The American Government has failed. No one has succeeded in this mess. Where can we possibly go from here?

I proposed a “Moderate Revolution” to the great antagonist, Gaustmeister. Why not have a moderately violent overthrow of this ruined system where we mildly suggest compromise with the mediocre threat of a potentially loaded gun to the figurative temple of each of the political parties? Certainly a moderately authoritarian regime in place of the current defunct machine would be more optimal… Of course, Gaustmeister noted a revolution of moderation is in itself a failed concept. One cannot moderately revolt.

Even moderation-by-force wouldn’t get this country out of its current economic troubles. If you find a hypothetical middle ground between the left and the right, there is no place for Keynesian economic theory, which would dictate now is the time to build the infrastructure, putting people to work on the roads, light rail, schools. Instead, Obama’s compromised policy dictates we spend all of our money destroying other countries with our remote control harpies instead of fixing our own mess. And we’ve given up on space, but this is a discussion for another time.

DB Cooper Mystery Nearly Solved?

Since my father, Old Man Neverman, has long been considered a possible candidate for the true identity of DB Cooper, many have asked Vic of my opinion on the new evidence hinted at by the FBI. Here’s the deal – the new lead released this last week is no more substantial than the last forty years of leads. Why is the FBI so public about this information when they have been mum in the past? Because this is the next generation of FBI and these kids are breaking protocol to immerse themselves into the legend. The agents that have tirelessly worked the DB Cooper case have long since retired. The case has a mythical quality and it is the new generation of FBI agents that deem themselves the inheritor of the sword in the stone. While we all seek the truth, the deeper “truth” is that DB Cooper’s identity should never be uncovered. Why spoil the romance of a true mystery?

5 Year Old Psychic Predicts Meteor Strike

One of my inside sources into the Dixie Mafia and southern-fried drug smuggling, Razor Callahan, recently provided me with a different sort of scoop. The sometimes lawyer/sometimes outlaw pilot, Razor, told me, “According to my mother-in-law’s psychic counselor, my 5 year old is some kind of oracle and has a gift. Yesterday, out of the blue, she starts telling us about a meteor that is going to hit the earth. She started placing cups of water strategically around the house. I am going to freak if some major fire breaks out.”

Westboro Baptist Church Blesses Norwegian Nut-Job

In a stunning display of where religion can go wrong, the Westboro crazies have said that Andres Breivik, who killed nearly a hundred people in Norway in his bomb attack and shootings last week, was on a mission from God. The Westboro Baptists are even considering a trip to Norway to protest the funerals in favor of Andres and I sincerely hope they do as they won’t find the same 1st Amendment protection in Oslo.

Meanwhile, Back at the Cyber Ranch… (Anonymous and LulzSec)

Westboro’s nemesis Anonymous, the cyber-activist vigilante group, is getting picked off left and right by international police forces. Anonymous, by hacking into Westboro’s website, was one of the few groups that could actually go after the church. The hacker known as “Topiary” is one who directly confronted Shirley Phelps-Roper, the Arch-Bitch of Westboro and it was Topiary who was recently arrested by British police in the Shetland Islands this last week.

The Face of Anonymous

So what went wrong? The members of Anonymous who have been taken down all seem to have taken part in the splinter group LulzSec. While Anonymous acts like the Robin Hood of the cyber-universe, defending Wiki-Leaks, assisting the Arab Spring by attacking Tunisian and Egyptian government sites, and going after the blow-hards at Westboro, LulzSec acts more as the nihilist Joker of Gotham City. It was LulzSec who recently broke into Sony and released credit card information for online gaming users. In the LulzSec manifesto, released to the press after the hacking, their intention is rather sinisterly clear:

“Yes, yes, there’s always the argument that releasing everything in full is just as evil, what with accounts being stolen or abused, but welcome to 2011. This is the lulz lizard era, where we do things just because we find it entertaining.”

So while Anonymous stood up to international bullies, the splinter group LulzSec decided to become a bully and I believe this angered the hacktivist community. International police agencies seemed to be unable to track down Anonymous until hackers started turning against each other by turning informer.

As has often proven to be the case, any action against Anonymous has resulted in a counter-action against authority. An unsuspecting email server in Mountain Home, Arkansas, was hacked this week, allowing Anonymous access to email accounts for Sheriff’s offices in Arkansas, Kansas, Louisiana, Missouri and Mississippi. These emails, sometimes detailing corrupt practices, have since been released, becoming public knowledge.

Rick Perry’s Response

The Governor of Texas seems to be many things. A sometime secessionist and (at least formerly) member of Sons of Confederate Veterans. A helluva executioner, given his record with the death penalty. The Bilderberg’s choice for Republican nomination (see my blog on the most recent meeting of the world’s elite). And, of course, the Obi Wan Kenobi of the extreme Christian Right. Rick Perry, you are our only hope…

Let us hope God overlooks Perry’s capital punishments and answers the collective prayer of the Response – a non-demoninational rally that occurred yesterday in Houston, where 30,000 Christians prayed for economic and political assistance. Hopefully, all of the prayer will offset the economic Russian Roulette the uncompromising right (Tea Party or otherwise) forced us into with the Debt Ceiling battle.

Perhaps the Illuminati is not dead. Perhaps they realized the best way to bring together their one world government is to completely destabilize the western world. Are they really several chess moves ahead of us? Did they usher in Obama as a catalyst for a different sort of change, one that would undermine our country by trumping up racism and xenophobia? If they ushered in Hilary, would they similarly use misogyny to flame the hate and divide the nation?

Perhaps God is not paying attention and it is the Powers-That-Be-Behind-The-Scenes, the generically termed “Illuminati”, who are using fear mongering to sacrifice their pawn (the current president) as they bring in the next pawn (Texas Governor Rick Perry). What sort of world would this be? NPR says those behind the Response believe the Freedom of Religion only applies to Christians. Where is the liberty in that? Where is the liberty in not allowing gays to marry or forcing troubled pregnant women into back alleys?

Be careful, people. Be careful of which divine entity you ask to take over our country.


Who are these cowboy agitators in Cairo, whipping the protestors and assaulting international media? The shaky government that is hanging onto the faint semblance of power is a likely culprit. Opossums look fairly harmless until you corner them and this time it looks as though Mubarak and his supporters are the ones snarling their gnarly teeth.

But what could they have to gain? Is Mubarak and company so desperate that they are turning on the Egyptian people, beating up Anderson Cooper, and turning out the lights on the international stage? It is a no-win situation for Mubarak, who before had the option of bowing out gracefully. Now, the United States must quietly begin orchestrating a coup with the Egyptian military and other power groups in Egypt – even the Muslim Brotherhood – to gain control of the chaos. Mubarak has resorted to violence and enough is enough. Time to exile the tyrant…

Yet, something doesn’t feel right. It is almost too obvious that this counter-strike against the Egyptian protestors is in defense of Mubarak. One must think clearly here: who has the most to gain? Mubarak could have left in class, retired to some villa on the Nile, and become immortalized as a friendly question on Jeopardy! Through these violent acts, he loses all chance at a happy ending like a poor tipper at a massage parlor. So it is obvious the Egyptian Establishment has nothing to gain. Unless this is a desperate reaction by those about to lose their power, the new violence in Egypt may be coming from elsewhere.

So who does have something to gain through the violence? The first thing this violence is going to do is hasten Mubarak’s exodus in a manner that the Western Powers may not be able to control the turnover of power. The Muslim Brotherhood and their Islamic allies would gain the most. Could the Brotherhood be playing both sides? Could they be supporting the people through their grassroots campaign while simultaneously playing villain by hiring these desert cowboys to whip up international outrage?

I hope not.

While this has turned even uglier in Egypt, I am still optimistic. What we have is an educated youth who are determined to make a better country. Even if these young Egyptians are moved to action by theological groups, there is still a great opportunity for democracy here. The difficult part will be reshaping the economy in such a way that the poverty becomes controllable. A failed democracy would play into the hands of extremists. For democracy to succeed, the entire table must be set for Egypt and that includes the Muslim Brotherhood.

Another thought on who else gains through this violence…

The fear mongers and the oil barons. Oil barons making money with the rising prices, even as the Suez Canal becomes threatened, hurting their shipping routes. As for the fear mongers, power is most easily gained through the use of fear. Look at the power of religions who threaten damnation. Look at the power of Fox with doomsdayers like Glen Beck. Spread the fear, keep the wealth.

I wonder how much stock in oil Glen Beck has. Could it be that a GB agent provacateur beat-up Cooper Anderson?

The Domodedovo Airport blast in Moscow is an act of terrorism, simple enough. The Russian media is of the opinion this blast is an islamic attack after Russia’s agreement to assist the US in Afghanistan, but this notion seems rash and potentially politically motivated to focus on American relations rather than the obvious Chechan menace. In the end, it is highly likely this will go unsolved much as the Moscow subway bombing last year did. This brings me to my point – we as Americans should pay attention to this tragedy, pay respects to those that have been lost, but should not overreact to the FEAR mongering the media will put out.

While a bomb in the international arrivals gate at at Moscow airport does have relevance (last month a very dear friend, codenamed Bacchus, tried to convince me that we should meet up in Moscow, only after talking me out of a trip to Tunisia… oddly enough… so he nearly had me leaving one frying pan for another), a bomb blast in the capital of Russia does not equate to similar threat here domestically. I say this for a couple of reasons:

First – the Russians failed to beef up security when they were warned a week ago of a plot to bomb the airport arrivals gate. The bomber did not go through security, but even if (s)he did, it is likely their scanners were in standby mode.