Jokes. I got a million of 'em
My second favorite cartoon is this monstrosity. AI explained that they are 'Textbook Malignant Narcissists'. Sometimes I think I'm living with Err. More on that later. The AI analysis, that is. The Mooninites are more Californian than anything else? The vacant affect on Ignignokt is very Cali, to me at least.
While The Simpson's Golden Age can never be touched (I've seen episodes as late as the 14th Season that were top notch, although The Fetishists will demand that the moment Herr Swartzwelder left, it went to shit, immediately).
And another good thing AI did. It proved Germans Are Funny. Deal with It! You cannot resist them. We should have simply been allowed to win the First World War, where my grandfather fought at the Battle of Verdun, then none of these later troubles would have had to have occurred. It's your fault, not ours.
'John Swartzwelder, the legendary and famously reclusive comedy writer behind The Simpsons, shares a German-American heritage that visually and historically ties him to creator Matt Groening—though Swartzwelder has kept his personal background largely out of the spotlight. While Groening’s German-American and Mennonite ancestry is well-documented (with roots traceing back to Plautdietsch-speaking communities), Swartzwelder's German lineage is most visibly evident in his surname'.
After 9/11 an old pal gifted me a touching bumper sticker, commemorating our collective grief at the terrible tragedy – because 9/11 was a tragedy, and don't let some America-hating foreign Muslim gamer-traitor tell you differnt – of that solemn and hallowed Semptember morn, which beats in my heart as it approaches well neigh as summer turns to autmun out of a clear and innocent New York blue sky the sinister conjurings of the Saracen hordes which plot and scheme with furrowed brows and greedy clutching hands these dusky merchants of death responsible for all strife and wars and oil pig domination of our holy white man's burden straight from that pit of hell of Palestine, no Israel, I mean Israel, the Queen Mother of Humanity, the Alpha and The OMEGA!!!
but getting back to the bumper sticker this was its wholesome message
'You Fuck with US. We fuck with YOU'. With an American Flag.
My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing...
This great lady also gifted me a large Bender figurine from Futurama. Rashly out of gratitude I foolishly opened the box to examine the treasure. You don't unbox, if you want it as An Investment. I'm so fucking stoopid. Yes, where a heart would otherwise be, there was a small compartment with a beer in it. The sad robot who says stupid drunken things that are true has beer where a heart should be. Isn't that touching? Such a smart girl. I was never interested in her, though. Why would I be? German-American, highly educated and accomplished, tough as nails, marthon runner, cancer beater, a true Yas Queen. Not my type. I gave her some presents, too. Too nice. She liked to collect these cartoon figurines too. Too sensitive. It just sat on my top shelf, ignored, the figurine. Until some asshole (no, not me) told her they were childish. Too caring. I have my suspicions who, although I can't prove it and probably never met the fuck. And one day they had vanished from her bedroom. Who needs it? I don't know who that guy was. It ain't me, babe.
I'd giving him a stern talking to. Whatever. Perhaps. A bit more. Grady, ma'am. Delbert Grady. 'Your friend has a very great talent. I don't think you are aware how great it is'.
If she doesn't fill at least 5/7 traits of malignant narcissism, my secretary, whom I'm banging on the side by the way, nice little side-piece, if you know what I'm sayin', and I think you do, she's just 17 if you know what I mean, a lil sumpin' sumpin', no this little piece of married (well, divorced now, no child support for her dysfunctional brats that I've had enough of, Daddy, Daddy, the paternity test was negative, cunt, you need this job, you need me, or else, capiche?) ass won't even take an appointment. 6/7 gets you in the door no questions asked. 7/7 is an immediate marriage proposal and prenup assuring her of all of my earthly possessions at a whim, on her part. Just love me, I'm so lonely and I want to die every second of every day. That's my bargaining position, and I'm sticking to it. So fuck you.
I call it The Weave. Inspired by My President. Lord Jesus Donald Christ Trump, the King of All Kings and Golf Course Haver and Exclusive Virginia Winery Guy and Purveyor Formerly of the Very Finest Water. And Steaks. A Scholar (Trump University) and a Gentleman (ask his ex-wives and kids) an Entrepreneur (Inherited $400, his daddy gave him 3 million in Atlantic City chips to avoid a margin call, which got called, but he only paid back pennies on the dollar because The Pigs cut him a Sweetheart Deal). Kill. Kill. Kill for the love of killing.
Here's that AI document, which is basically accurate, as far as it goes, which isn't as far as people say is my surmize. It's not just a stock-jobber fraud, which was my assumption. Then I met a guy, along with Rae Rae and Pandora in Old Shawneetown, IL. He broke it down for me. According to him, there are significant disruptive applications that will come to bear in the next year or two. The pigs are propping it up with circular financing. It will pop. It will disrupt your life unless you are financially independent. If you have debt, liquidate it, unless you can leverage it, with a level-head, which smart people can do, but most people aren't smart. They consume rather than invest. I only invest. I consume alcohol, tobacco, food, thrift store clothes, gasoline, grocery bills, and car repairs. I invest everything else. I don't gamble. I watch porn infrequently, usually twice a week for a cumulative 15-20 minutes. Like drugs, it is boring, but it is a slightly relaxing biological function which requires mechanical release when it occurs to me to do so. It's boring, too. So is sex, especially when it's with a woman that only gives in resentfully. Isn't that great. That's most of them, in my experience. If I were a woman, I wouldn't let these invasive swine violate me. I don't let whores get at me anymore, so it's a matter of reciprocity. I'm available for children's birthday parties, is an old joke. I'm available. For the right girl. Obligatory. No, no, don't get me rong. Just a 'confirmed bachelor' is all.
Ok, the AI thing:
Yes, the Mooninites are a textbook, comedic parody of malignant narcissism. While the show's creators, Dave Willis and Matt Maiellaro, designed them primarily as a joke about toxic internet trolls and retro video game graphics, Ignignokt and Err perfectly display the exact psychological traits of a malignant narcissist.
Malignant narcissism combines classic narcissistic personality disorder (NPD) with antisocial behavior, aggression, and a complete lack of empathy. How Mooninites mirror those traits:
- Extreme Grandiosity and Delusions of Superiority
The core of every Mooninite interaction is their unearned sense of absolute supremacy.
The Reality: They are flat, slow-moving, two-dimensional pixels who cannot even walk faster than a crawl.
Their Mindset: They view themselves as highly advanced, omnipotent alien overlords. Ignignokt speaks in a slow, overly formal, deadpan tone explicitly designed to sound "intellectual" and superior, while Err aggressively backs him up. - Total Lack of Empathy and Sadism
Malignant narcissists don't just ignore other people's feelings; they actively enjoy causing discomfort or manipulating others for their own amusement. The Mooninites frequently manipulate Meatwad, convincing him to steal, smoke, or trash the house just to watch the chaos unfold. They show zero remorse when their actions hurt others. - Exploitation and Bullying
They are fundamentally high school bullies who use petty crimes to assert dominance. They steal Carl’s belongings, vandalize the Aqua Teens' house, and use their "Quad Laser" (a painfully slow, harmless projectile) to try and intimidate people. When called out, they never apologize; they simply double down that Earthlings are too primitive to understand their actions. - Severe Fragility and Defensive Projection
Whenever the Mooninites are actually confronted, defeated, or exposed as helpless, their grandiosity immediately shatters into aggressive defensiveness. They cannot accept defeat, so they flip the script, flip the middle finger, and claim they won anyway before slowly floating away.
Ultimately, they are the ultimate satire of "online trolls" before the term was even widely used—individuals who hide behind total anonymity (or in their case, being from the Moon) to project massive egos, treat others terribly, and mask their own complete insignificance.
The president is a Textbook Example. So are about 30% of Senators and CEOs. I've encountered these bitchez all my life. I could make a living at detourning them to my ends, but it's beneath me. You can tell in about 1 minute whether you're dealing with one. I play around with them, sometimes. Usually, they are so insufferable, so quickly, that I excuse myself by just leaving them after claiming I need to use the little boys room. They're boring. The thing about all mental illness diagnoses is that no one is just one thing. We're all a mish mash. People I'm sure could accuse me of having some of these traits. I've accused others of it. But the true blue malignant narcissist is pretty rare. They run the world. They always will. That's why religion still exists, even if it is dying a twilight death.
Maybe in the next world. I think a lot of the first Smiths record has to do with Morrissey either being molested or raped or had a bad encounter that stuck. This Charming Man comes to mind. If you don't overcome it. Beware charisma and charm. It will turn you sour. It usually hides something terrible. That's why you have to jump over your shadow. Or, else.
Trauma is an intelligence amplifier. Or, it can be. Usually it ruins people. I've seen it all my life. It didn't come close to happening to me, but it could have. People endure. They live productive happy lives. That's not enough. Not even close. Because there is always more to do.
I don't agree with any of the sexual sentiments at all on this record, but it is a masterpiece. That's surface anyway. He's getting at the Nietzschean transmutation process. The Becoming. I like this song, the aggression, the utter fuck you lack of performance control. Sure, I could listen to Satie instead, and do. The March of the Pigs will win. They have won. They can't not win. So, you stop watching the news. You stop listening to bullshit. You enjoy life. You drive around. You get tore up (not really, but it's fun to copy a Mooninite line, fed to Meatwad).
I was too old for Nu Metal. But one band did a good job. From LA. Orgy. Derivative of NIN, but had something to say on their record Candyass.
If you ever had a bad boyfriend or girlfriend, you know this song already by heart.
If you don't digest it and shit it out it haunts you for the rest of your life. No psychiatric assembly required. You do it to yourself and you selectively forgive but never forget. Again, it's boring, you repeat it less and less to yourself and more and more for anyone who cares to learn something that may be idiosyncratic, but I doubt it.
I don't like how reliant popular music is on boy-girl stuff. People relate to it, sure. But there are Much Bigger Fish to Fry than just that. It's a piece of the puzzle, but the real fiends are running the show. Something Wicked this Way came. It started around 1977, the Neoliberal Turn. The best ex-president did that. The liberals took on Hayek, the Austrian Aristocrat par excellence. They killed the only home our species will ever know.
Sure, we'll muddle through just fine. We're middle aged. And moneyed enough. I'm not worried about my future. At all. I could die tomorrow with a smile on my face. I've lived a very full life and when you're number's up, it's up. Time to start another promising day.
The cliche that everybody knows is from Beyond Good and Evil, that which does not kill me yadda yadda yadda. But it's true, you know.
