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It has crossed my mind to mention some things and I'm thinking if I threaten it in a post, that I can just add them willy nilly onto it as my ducks come in a row to mention them. So, maybe watch this space for updates, or at least have a moment's reverence for our antiquity, for our kooky hipster icons of old....
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I am acutely aware of what I've given up to stay true to my morals. Of the nearly ten thousand views of THIS VIDEO, I may be about six thousand of them. Do you have the first part of a clue how much money it takes to have anything remotely like this in your life? If you are not born into it, your chances are slim to none... unless you go very strongly capitalist or marry money.
It strikes me that my crazed love for the Lusitano is in my blood. My grandmother was fished off the rez by my fresh-off-the-boat Portuguese grandfather. As I'm watching videos of the great Nuno Olivera, or his son Joao, the man who trained Vittorio, I see my relatives. I see faces I grew up with. I've never been to Portugal, but the cells in my body have.
Even though I want this more than almost everything else in my life, and even though I have never had a problem with marrying money, I am utterly incapable of loving someone for their money, or loving someone because I'm afraid of being alone in a taxi ride to hell, or afraid of not having descendants to take care of the things that get too hard for me.
Even though I have taken egregious advantage of my friends for my whole life, I never chose a one of them for what they could do for me. I'm not bragging about this. I don't think this entitles me to some special consideration. I'm trying to bring up a facet of the headtrips we put on each other and ourselves. I'm trying to begin parsing the kinds of things one needs to think about carefully in a police state. You need to be able to have insights into things like this when the people around you can assuage their fear by fucking you up.
It has ever been thus, but the stakes have not been this high in our lifetimes.
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For anyone happy to relax about Andrew Breitbart's untimely demise, there is a brother who has BOTHERED to put it together how seriously we should take this, even though we didn't admire Breitbart's pugnacity.
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Had to break for MORE tear ducts maintenance....
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I have not been able to drop Ben Fulford into the crank box. I still believe him. HERE is more corroboration for him.
I'm noting that a number of people, some of the lights or would-be lights in the caverns of Out There, have taken up what I have begun calling "Ben's Thing"—because I think Ben was the first one out with it and who has stuck to it against all comers, all ridicule, for five years now—while either ignoring him altogether or besmirching him in the process.
People are vicious. And venal. Sneaky. Dishonest. Meretricious. And way too often arch contortionists....
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When they're not wonderful, that is.
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I lost my mental list of gripes. I should try writing them down so I can keep on track....
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