Link: What’s a Chechen?
Hint: not related to the Czech Republic. Jesus.
People are the worst.
Even the words these people use for themselves stink like mouldy mid-20th century newspapers, like “pundit”—a British colonial term from the Raj for Hindu priests, extended in that lazy retired-colonel way to anybody who claims to know something you don’t know.
The pundits fifty years ago blithered about nukes, and they’re blithering again on the same topic. There’s a religious tone to their chatter, because nukes are like the unbeliever’s version of sin and Hell rolled into one, the place we’ll go if we’re very, very bad.
From Gary Brecher’s latest ‘North Korea, Wish Mao Were Here’ at nsfwcorp.com. Worth reading in full.
This is cool. Amateur space enthusiasts may have found a lost Soviet era unmanned probe on the surface of Mars.
In this neighborhood I felt my shoulders very intensely. That was what they were for: for walking around here not being messed with. Because I could break a man’s back with these arms. And the boots too: their solid clump, their steel toes — made to promote orthidonture among my enemies. And the practice in pain they gave me, the nails, taking it, getting tough.
There’s a way you walk at that age, somewhat like the way a bored gorilla would walk — plenty of swing to the arms, feeling them heavy and strong as Frankenstein’s, all but dragging on the concrete…and the same dead eyes he had, like nothing you saw could ever impress you. And the legs — not walking by themselves but being thrown forward, bone-over-bone twist from the muscles of the back and ass, the quads flicking over like a Cro-Mag’s spearthrower. Flapping them out with the power in your back till they land, CLUMP, one, then the other, then beginning again, as many as necessary, each footfall registering on the Richter Scale, an elephant with five trunks.
Of course this was all nonsense: I was in fact a topheavy, shy, unarmed white bookworm who had half learned a wholly impractical method of unarmed combat. If nobody killed me for walking down San Pablo Ave in this ill-bred parody of toughness, it was simply because no one took me seriously enough, or had any reason to give themselves the trouble — for which my belated apology and thanks.