Mein Kampf Too – my Australian journey
In choosing an unusual title for my autobiography, I am
aware that it is a taboo topic. The title ‘mein kampf’ I meant. I do not speak
German, but merely know these words mean ‘my struggle’. How it has come to
things that a person cannot use the German words for ‘my struggle’ without
ratcheting up some kind of cultural taboo would positively have Mozart, a German
speaker, and possibly Beethoven, another German speaker, positively scratching
their heads perplexed. What’s wrong with saying, ‘my struggle’? No doubt they
would ask. Indeed. What’s wrong with saying ‘my struggle’? Everyone struggles
with something, and everyone might easily dictate five sentences beginning with
‘my struggle’, recounting some difficult challenges in their lives, without
giving the matter much thought. Suddenly two innocuous German words placed
together have become taboo.
So how is it that I, a Spaniard by race, and possibly a jew
by ancestry, cannot be permitted to talk about my struggle, and use the German
to say it? It’s hard to say, but I’ll go on to my struggle and leave the
history to the experts.
My struggle began in western Sydney in the 1970s when I was
born. Apart from the usual things a baby after birth struggles with like
breathing, finding milk and warmth, the things I’d really like to tell you about
my struggle (mein kampf) have to do with my hometown, and of course, my family
life. I mentioned the word ‘taboo’
earlier. It wasn’t to say that my own life wasn’t without its own taboos, not
related to the German language, however, for the sake of having a starting
point, I suppose we should begin around age three for me, almost age four. At
age three my life changed notably as I was enrolled in school, we can call it
Kampf Campus (since everyone there, like everywhere else, is engaged in some
kind of struggle). Kampf Campus begins at pre-school, then on to kindergarten
(another dreaded German word), first grade, all the way to the end of year
twelve when the students are all eighteen and ready to leave high school
forever. I believe it was February, 1980, when I was just about three months
shy of my fourth birthday, when I set out for Kampf Campus, as a student, for
the first time. My three only, and elder siblings (I being what the Spaniards refer
to as the ‘Benjamin’ of the family: the youngest), also attended Kampf Campus.
The eldest, my brother, had not yet begun brutalizing me, was eleven years old,
and would have been in sixth grade, I imagine. The next eldest, Raquel, my
favourite, would have been in fifth grade. And the second youngest, Patricia,
would have been in fourth grade, although I suppose I’d have to check through
some old photos to verify those grades match up. In those days, Patricia hadn’t
reached a state of abject hatred towards me and complete hell for herself, but
it wasn’t far away, only about four years or so. While I do not remember much
of my home life, leading up to the first day of pre-school, I can tell you that
I would have been left out of a lot of games my brother and two sisters were
playing due to the age gap (eight, seven and five years), as they generally
clustered together a lot. I do not remember much about life at home before
pre-school. My father had made an unusual, and ultimately failed decision to
not speak Spanish at home. This meant more suffering for his wife who was
rendered mute by the choice, as her grasp of English language was weak. The
only positive is that I approach the Spanish speaking world as a speaker of Spanish
as a second language, and without prejudices against various ethnic tribal
rivalries in spain and elsewhere in the Spanish speaking world. However, I might
have achieved the same or more, having learned Spanish from an early age.
Clearly my father was a domineering and bullying man (with personality). He would certainly be in
good company in Australia in general, and most definitely in western Sydney
where the society was generally frowned upon by outsiders as inferior. Within
the inferior bubble of western Sydney, what I was coming to realize, coming up,
in my innocent and fairly wholesome childlike way, was that many people had
roots and connections with country New South Wales. In fact, my part of western
Sydney, in those days, very much resembled a country town. The massive
Westfield’s shopping mall had not been built, in its place was a much smaller
building with a fancy looking department store called ‘Grace Bros’ (something
like Macys in America). I did not perceive any kind of inferiority amongst the
denizens of the bubble I lived in. Nobody seemed to have an inferiority complex
and any kinds of evils that grown ups or even teenagers were involved in, was
uncomprehended by myself, as a child, and no doubt by my peers. After
pre-school, in Kindergarten (there’s that big bad German word again, not Kampf,
Kindergarten), I would be taught to read English language. After having my own
children, I realized most likely no one had read to me much prior to
kindergarten and I vaguely remember playing a tv commercial game with my father
and siblings around that age. We’d all watch Australian 60 minutes and whoever could say
the name of the product or company being advertised first, would win a point
during the commercial break. I was the only one allowed to say the product or company
if its name had actually been written on the screen (and no one could answer if
it was spoken before they said it). This is how I realized I could read k-mart
or something like that, but no one seemed to understand I could read it. Still I
struggled in kindergarten with learning how to read, again I don’t recall
anyone trying to read me any stories. Actually, now I do recall my father reading me Goldilocks and the three bears which was always my favorite bedtime story. My father was often fairly nice to me, especially when I was young, however if he'd been easier on his other son it would have been better for me, and everyone else in the family.
Pre-school was great. We had a big sand pit area, the
teachers were super nice. A big red slippery slide. I still remember my robot
apron I wore during finger painting time and all I have are fond and happy moments
at pre-school. My own youngest child (of three), a daughter, the Benjamina (not
her real name) is nowhere near as happy with ‘having to go’ to pre-school as I was
with ‘getting to go’. I should mention at this point that my mother suffered
some kind of nervous breakdown when I was born and was started on a course of
anti-psychotic medications until death some forty-four years later. Some years
ago I met a woman at church that told me she used to take care of me when I was about two years old (before pre-school)
and how excited I’d get when her son would come home after school each day and
how anxious I would be to play with him. I certainly do not remember these
events but they definitely rang true as my mother would have numerous
opportunities to rely on other Australians to cover her six when it came to
child rearing. At this point of entering pre-school, my understanding is that I
was the only child thus fostered out, although in 1984, when I was eight, as I alluded
to earlier, we had a big change where Patricia left home at age thirteen, never
to return. At this point our family life basically collapsed and my face became
a punching bag for my older brother to unload any kind of anguish he could
feel. Prior to the great collapse of 1984 with its lamentations and gnashing of
teeth, I began cultivating my first serious friendship. This chap, another boy
of around six years old or seven years old, by the time I had reached first or
second grade, I would often, uninvited, walk a mile or so to his home. I should
make some points now about social standing and the like, which in my mind, is
very linked to this friendship with this young immigrant from Queensland State,
who we will refer to as Franklin, for the sake of this autobiography (not his
real name). Now I hadn’t mentioned much about my home town but that people in Sydney
looked down on it as inferior (and that I wasn’t even aware of that as a child)
and that the folks there had many and various connections to country NSW
through friends and family and it had a country town feel. It was indeed forty
kilometres or so in a direct line west from Sydney’s famous harbor bridge
(around forty two kilometres, perhaps). So I will elaborate: many of the homes
were owned by the government, like a communist state such as where the mother
of my own children was born into around the time I began cultivating friendly
relations with Franklin. Not ALL of the homes were owned by the government,
some were privately owned and many of the ‘richer’ kids from the privately
owned homes, came to Kampf Campus from their own elementary schools where there
were no high schools for them. By the time they arrived around age twelve,
Franklin and I had cemented our friendship, while living at our respective
government owned houses. I mentioned being a Spaniard, in fact my parents had
migrated to Australia, from Madrid (in 1971), just five years before I was
born. My mother, in fact, was pregnant with Patricia at the time of flying out
and her husband was a drunk and a wife beater with a degree in Law and
Economics from a prestigious Spanish university. This Franklin himself was from
his own, Franco-like dictatorship, known as the Joe Bjelke-Peterson Queensland
Police State. Perhaps, Franklin’s father, like my own, was a wife beater and a
drunk and fleeing a dictatorship state. Certainly he had given little Franklin
at least one flogging in his time, as one time I arrived to play with Franklin,
his eyes were red from crying and he had a very subdued mood where his cheeky
and fiery spark were utterly defeated. He told me he wasn’t allowed to play.
When distinguishing what is good and true from what is evil and false about Australian
society, what is to be loved, from what is to be abhorred, I must address the
pivotal topic of Australian dumbness squarely. Now I’ve mentioned our hometown
was mostly populated by government owned housing dwellers (basically communists
by virtue thereof or national socialists (not to be confused in any way with Nazis)),
and a smattering of kids that lived in their own privately owned houses.
Realize that in the early 1980s, interest rates were almost twenty percent and
it was extremely difficult to buy real estate. A kind of pre-Thatcher Britain
was in effect with regard to government owned housing, however this was not the
case in greater Sydney where much great and fabulous wealth was on display.
When I address the topic of Australian dumbness squarely, I cannot make
exceptions for the wealthy. Despite going to many expensive and fabulous
private schools, in worlds of privilege greatly exceeding what Franklin and I were
experiencing, the same failures were evident: inability to use the word teen
instead of dean when reckoning numbers; inability to avoid the idolatry and
worship of ridiculous rugby players as some kind of deities. A general lack of
culture sorely noticeable to a Spaniard in the public sphere (while there may
be great culture in the local area, it is difficult to traduce to the public
sphere. However, unquestionably, there are various pockets in Australia where
wealth and privilege does traduce to culture). Inability to avoid uncouth
manners such as would appear bizarre to any European, including newly arrived
migrants from England. In short, Australian grubbiness, in general, is often difficult
to avoid, even amongst the very wealthy and this is noticeable in the recent
movement to expose date rape culture amongst the private school ‘elites’ of
Australia.
Just to stay focused on this topic, I will explain myself,
while commencing my friendship with Franklin, a migrant from Queensland State
(a quasi dictatorship at the time that Australian dumbness meant that nobody,
no matter how rich, could actually call out for what it was due to hereditary
patriarchal cultural dumbness, ‘australian dumbness’), and other acquaintances
at the school, it became apparent that I was a ‘greaseball wog’. So basically
anybody that wasn’t a dumb English redneck
(a taboo term in Australia due to Australian dumbness – inability to call a
spade a spade) with ancestry linking them to the British Isles, could be
labelled as such. There were also abbos (native Australians) and the Irish
could be targeted at will. It’s interesting to note that in their continual
white-washing of history, similar to Bolshevik historical revisionism in
Russia, where the Russians just continuously lie about their history, the
British have basically never been known to discuss their various massacres of
the Irish. Anyway, I’m sure dumb English rednecks would have a way to manage
the Irish around and about, probably calling them ‘scabs’. With Australian
dumbness, it’s generally understood that only anglo-saxons are true blue
Australians and everyone must aspire to be like them. Otherwise we’d have
invasion day every January 26th instead of Australia Day. But these
are conclusions I drew after long and bitter experience, realizing that love of
self-glorification would always blind the anglo-saxon in Australia until his
dying breath, leading to ‘Australian dumbness’, a kind of mental disorder, and
a mediocre and greedy state of society, culturally vacant. Still, as a child, I
was willing to hear the society out, what they were saying. As I mentioned, my
parents were not teaching me anything about their own society and my father was
banning use of the Spanish language, much as Franco had banned the uses of non
castillian languages in Catalunya and elsewhere, no doubt leading to great
mental anguish and suffering for my mother, whom, as mentioned, he had subjected to many drunken floggings. Along with my brother, before they had
even arrived in western Sydney and welcomed me to the family. So I’ve basically mentioned coming up in a
working class, disadvantaged area in a pseudo communist local area. While at
the same time being part of a greater society where there was indeed capitalism
and great wealth. While I might have been looked down upon by any number of
anglo-saxons from wealthy or poor backgrounds, the reality was that both of my
parents were university educated and healthy, good-looking people, prior to
relocating to Australia, essentially as ‘two-bob poms’ (a term of endearment to
describe the blessed brothers and sisters of mother England who arrive in Australia
on subsidized flights costing roughly forty cents – a pittance).
Why was Australia struggling to attract migrants? Again, we
have to address Australian dumbness and the actual cultural existence there.
The patriarchal rot. There was
essentially a cruel streak, a mile wide, running down the middle of the Australian
Soul. While mothers and their children were doing their utmost to innately
spread the love and Christ spirit amongst the place, as is normally the case in
most societies, the men had other ideas. The Church was often a place where
paedophile brutes could freely roam and rape children to their sick heart’s
content, perpetuating untold misery for decades to come and guaranteeing a
place for themselves in hell of intense suffering. A friend of my mother’s, who
counts her ancestry in Australia, dating back thousands of years, was only last
year telling me about the punishments
she would endure at her country town high school: a darkened room, solitary
confinement for well over a day, a bucket to piss in, starvation. This was a common
experience no doubt, for many aboriginals in the fifties and sixties. While I mentioned
the brutality of the English towards the Irish in mother England, sometimes the
opposite would play out in Australia and English orphans sent off to Australia as
basically slaves, in the 1960s and earlier, were brutalized by Irish catholic
priests at orphanages in Australia. The amount of Australian men who have been
broken by rape by paedophile, or savage beatings, whether in the church or out
of it, is considerable. The Australians even cherish a kind of romantic notion
of ‘buggery’ (penetration of the anus with the penis) as something special
(Australian dumbness). This cherishing never bothers to describe buggery as
buggery of children, but often, that’s what it really is. Am I saying Australians
are paedophiles and paedophile enablers? Not really. If a paedophile were to
end up in jail, no doubt the criminals there (more often than not from my neck
of the woods, where I’m describing my upbringing) have wrought very hard
justice on very many paedophiles, however, for many paedophiles, this just adds
to the thrill of the hunt. Australia certainly has an extra-ordinary amount of
child rapists, many of whom can easily double as respectable members of
society, with wives and reputations, no doubt. As I mentioned, the depths to
which the Anglo-Saxons in Australia will plumb, in order to glorify themselves,
in any way imaginable, has to be seen to be believed, and is, pitiful. Thus it
is that evil souls have been able to render such destruction in Australian society
for many decades, through raping women, raping children, murdering. Institutionally
endorsing rape within the church, which is still a common practice amongst the
catholic church, more especially outside of Australia now, although it was a
big issue within Australia, in the times I’m referring to (1980s and earlier).
Having mentioned all of that and with the friendship of the
migrant Franklin from Queensland State, well in my New South Welsh born hand, I
proceeded through elementary school. I can honestly say, that the spirit of
Christ was alive and well in the entire student and teacher body (although most of them were not religionists of any description), throughout my
elementary schooling, and I do not rebuke anyone for anything. At some stage in
elementary school, beginning with my first book, a biography on Mozart written
for teenagers, which I read around age eight, I suddenly became a very serious
reader. I could see, looking back, that my student body, pre-high school, were
not interested in reading, and this is extremely typical for their
social-economic status, well and truly, working class. As mentioned, both my parents
had university degrees and all I knew is that I wanted to read books, the way
an American boy wants to play baseball or football until the big leagues, and
focuses on that. With me, the big leagues are not some kind of prize to be
awarded to a novelist, or some kind of fake corrupt university degree (giftcards from the rabble), but an understanding to be gained of how learning may
contribute to usefulness, which I still have not achieved (especially as our western society today has become a basketcase) certainly . While I have come to
the conclusion that Australia is culturally backward, not just in the working
class hinterlands, but from top to bottom, I had begun to draw a picture of my
social awareness, as a pre-teen, as a kind of Nietzschean realization of Will
to Power. Truly I had lived and breathed a sense of Australian greatness and
Australian Will to Power in my elementary schooling. So what if my mother was
crazy and withdrawn from society on her medications, and my siblings had left
home to live amongst foster families or with ‘christian brothers' (hopefully not paedophiles), in the case of
my brother? So what if my brother treated me as a punching bag? And I rarely
saw my father as he focused on his career highlights (at the moment
moonlighting for NASA on behalf of the nationalized socialist telephone
company, Telecom Australia; and completing a community college degree in
electrical engineering and telecommunications) and nursing his sense of sadness
at a failed family life (I doubt his sociopathic tendencies were overly
inflamed, and at least he had the decency never to beat me up or get drunk). I described
a Nietzschean like hell of Christianity amongst the Australian population prior
to my birth, a textbook example, a la Nietzsche, of everything wrong with the Christian
church in practice, along with the blonde beast that subscribes to it. I then
went on to intimate that, not withstanding the prejudices amongst the greater Australian
society to crush my future Will to Power, like so many bear traps set to ensnare the mighty Californian grizzly, based on my surname, ancestry and place of
upbringing (western Sydney, a place of embarrasment), that I had,
in some way, climbed a lofty mountaintop, not unlike something Nietzsche’s Zarathustra
would reside on, and breathed the potential for Australian greatness, human
greatness and personal greatness.
So if you’re all grown up, you must be wondering how puberty
effected my outlook, I suppose that’s the next question to answer.
Later in my life I would live in China and America and France and other nations and come to realize their own Will to Power, but for
now, I said I’d adjudicate my recollections to the onset of puberty.
did some fuggen shlut just say Will to Power there cuz?
Let me crack my knuckles and go all Nietzsche on you.
Maggie M'gill shluts:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KGS62suDaoU
Like the Doors song, Maggie M'gill, where the people in tangy town really like to get it on, the kids in my hometown, apart from not reading books and suffering from the same cultural backwardness as all Australians: worshipping degenerate football players as deities (Australian dumbness), were given to exploring sex way too early. In fact, many girls, while slutty as teenagers, might still give themselves to child-rearing before age eighteen, thus cutting short their slutty pleasures for the sake of procreation and the joys of childrearing. This was yet another activity frowned upon by the wealthier people of Sydney amongst the middle and upper classes. Without doubt, as the Australian State at a National level encouraged and condoned this activity through generous incentives to child-rearing, we can say this is a kind of Australian National Socialism (not to be confused with nazism) and another spin on Australian dumbness.
Unlike the young Jim Morrison, writer and singer of the aforementioned Maggie M'gill, I was not interested in Nietzsche as a teenager but Helena Blavatsky, Gurdjieff, Bolshevik history, Nazi history and various other books (too numerous to name). We can fairly say that puberty, for me, was like an insignificant bump on the racetrack beneath the drag car sprinting a half mile at speeds high enough to launch an airplane, that doesn't cause any harm to the drag car or its driver. In this case the car being my thirst for knowledge and the books I read, and the driver being my mind in its inner spiritual qualities. You slut around and talk your talk, and have your babies, I'll read my books bro.
Observe the drag cars:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KpPni9A0jfY
This isn't to say I never experienced existential crisis now and then, caused by oppression from my brother, general unbearable facism from my Spaniard family, utter cultural nothingness and backwardness from the Australian society in general (who no doubt would not want to be associated with my working class hometown in any wise), but this was uncommon and not especially related to puberty in some cases. What I mean to say, is that in pursuit of intellectual strength, and greatness, I have never considered ANY well known academic temporal authority as have any serious weightiness in the big picture (only God), as very few institutions of learning, in the world, have anything coherent to teach, with regards to the humanities. In fact, it is truly fair to say that the liberal arts academia in the western world today, and also the former Bolshevik states under Bolshevik Russia (masquerading as the 'CCCP'), like Romania, etc, also fall into this category of nothingness and degeneracy in the liberal arts. The difference being, that nations with actual histories, will at lease teach those histories. While a little country like Australia with very little history, will go out of its way to whitewash the facts and the obstinate dishonesty so evident in the human soul is easily seen in this light. Needless to say most 'old' nations suffer from a disgusting and nauseating self-obsession that is truly morbid. Strange to say that while in the Dark Ages the Church was renowned for crushing learning and exploration, this role is now played by the Liberal Arts faculties of the modern western universities whose role is to babysit a generation of drug-fueled whoring young adults basically paying bribes to achieve a quintessential nothingness in their intellectuality, more like a black hole that sucks the light away. This priesthood comprised of pant-wearing divorced matrons and crippled men incapable of learning a trade, has its highest power in excommunication of the heretic and the sale of forgivenesses to the nouveau rich scum of communist china's elites that cannot even speak English. While incredibly fond of communist chinese money, these Liberal Arts ministers will never allow themselves to be roughed up and put to death the way the Intelligentsia in China, under Mao, were so done. The scum of the Earth indeed. So, as mentioned, it has never been an intellectual goal of mine to achieve some kind of scum of the Earth status as is being peddled by the 'western liberal arts' faculties of today. However their depressing example was just another thing for me to read about, like a caterpillar chomping through so many leaves. And if nothing was even written about it, well I just wrote it. And then just kept reading. In fact, my entire life philosophy might be described as: read on bro.
In fact, I would like to read so much that one day I could click my fingers and say, 'come hither Jasper and Croydon!' as if to two dogs, referring myself to two major American cable news outlets, 'catch the bunny rabbits'. And have them do my bidding thus. Notwithstanding the same, I am not trying to diminish the learning amongst scientists, historians, chemists, mechanics and the like. When I denigrate the lack of culture on the planet made manifest by the barrenness of the Liberal Arts Faculties, I am not blaming the historians or tarnishing any of the other disciplines. Just so you know.
So there I was in puberty, having finished years seven, eight and nine of high school at Kampf Campus, when I decided to just pack up and leave Kampf Campus, just like that, just like Zarathrustra who never had two dogs called Jasper and Croydon for pets, but some other animals like an eagle and a snake or something. I mean obviously I never wrote that or he would have had two dogs called Jasper and Croydon that could morph into right leaning cable tv news outlets in America.
Although I did not appreciate what a tremendous blessing Kampf campus was, and what a horrible campus Center of Nothingness campus would be, I made my choices and stuck with them.
Franklin 1.0 followed me over to Center of Nothingness campus. The story was he'd been kicked out of Kampf campus and had some guy from south australia called Stretch willing to chop fingers off for him (or limbs in general) if anyone messed with him. His company was more or less welcome, since he was my first buddy in the cold hard world and all. We had our own separate clicks at Center of Nothingness campus, but stayed buddies. My house was the go to place before and after school, being next to the bus stop near school and all. I'd get obsessed about brushing my hair over and over trying to make it look perfect, before school while Franklin 1.0 chilled in the Alvarez crib. One day we were walking down some stairs in grade ten (sophomore year) and some tiny looking grade seven kid with a learning disability kind of looking was ambling up the stairs, without even interrupting our conversation Franklin forehead slapped that kid smack bang in the forehead with an open palm. Wow. That was Franklin 1.0 for you. At Kampf campus we started bullying a girl in our grade with a learning disability, I think Franklin slapped her there too. I guess that's how tight we were, real nice guys.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rBQ2xc6jjJs
Cut forward a mere six years, from age 15 to 21, I'm making friends with Franklin 2.0. He's an ex marine from Cleveland Ohio who has married (then left) some Australian lady while on training and decided to stay in Sydney. We're at a pub on Cleveland Street in the city. The publican's name is Sam and he's a hella cool guy from New Zealand. Franklin 2.0 pop some coins in the jukebox, we don't have quarters in Australia for coins, and the Temptations song, My Girl, comes on. Franklin 2.0 and I are playing pool in the pub space and I always play to win. For laughs I start singing 'my bitch' during the chorus and Franklin 2.0 thinks this is funny, he starts laughing. That son of a bitch always had the best teeth you've ever seen, perfectly white and accentuated by his jet black face so you could see zero imperfections in his pearly whites. Franklin 2.0 lived upstairs in the dingy hotel rooms and I lived around twenty big paces at 471 Cleveland. When we first made each other's acquaintance we'd smoke some marijuana from a dry pipe in his room upstairs. He was always on the prowl for white chicks and straight as an arrow. Eventually he ended up siring a child with a part Australian aboriginal lady, Leticia, I think her name was. In terms of women I was kind of heartbroken and sore missing my Socal Newport Beach jewgirl and we'd have phonesex sometimes until I met the next jew girl who had gone to the nearby high school, Sydney Girls High, just an RPG missile flight away from Franklin 2.0's pub. He certainly liked that jewgirl girlfriend of mine and I'd describe Franklin 2.0's and my relationship as friendly friends. I also had to serve him drinks when I was working behind the bar. My crib was super dingy so I always preferred to hang out at the pub, it was a pretty space. Another bar lady was there, Sally, a white Australian lady, everyone seemed kind of slutty. Sam the publican owner's boss manager guy was living upstairs steadily with his steady woman from New Zealand. I don't know who Sally crept away with for thrills but it seemed she kept it secret and always said never to poop in your own garden so I guess she never dated anyone from the pub. I'd been living in Spain a whopping eighteen months through to about seven months before settling in to the pub space so perhaps my mentality went back to a 1950s Spain kind of psychology, more likely than not. I met the new jewgirl (jewgirl 2.0) on the same day we both found out we got into the same university faculty together for the same course (creepy destiny). I kind of felt like a very warm energy from her from the start, extremely warm, just kind of emanating from her, like a heat. She did not like trashy western Sydney manners and I mostly didn't display any around her, ever. Apart from being a douche who did not know how to save money, or that women wanted a man that could make and save and provide money for them to make a nest, these are concepts that were more alien to me than ufos and spaceships at the time, something that I had never really thought about either in those days, but would actually realize the existence of, first hand, before realizing that's what women want from a man: money to provide a nest, stability, love and affection. I could give jewgirls 1.0 and 2.0 love and affection but no money, so they just took what they could get.
This Franklin 2.0 was like a mind reader or something, clairvoyant. I mean sometimes I'd smoke so much marijuana I wouldn't be able to think real straight, I even got sent home from work a few minutes into a shift by evil Dave, good guy Sam's newly recruited deputy, for being too stoned. One day Franklin 2.0 was laughing at me wholeheartedly because he could tell by the look on my face I had started tripping, wondering if he was Michael Jordan, like THE Michael Jordan (they didn't really look that similar anyway) and I'd been smoking too much marijuana and the name had probably come up in bar conversation and I'd gotten confused about something (anyway if you're a black american you can probably tell by that that I can play basketball and maybe beat you). That was Franklin 2.0, always reading your face and the thought back of it. Anyway he was always reliable to put in my student films for film school and they were happy go lucky days in many respects and even jewgirl 2.0, although nowhere near as foxy and sweet as jewgirl 1.0 from Newport Beach socal, was still ok to kick it with. I mean I don't know I always wanted sex I guess in those days and that's why I always had to be with jewgirl 1.0 or 2.0 for hot sex, it wasn't rocket science really.
The time playing pool with Franklin 2.0 with my new lyrics, was before I met jewgirl 2.0 I'd say, although I can't really remember. Franklin 2.0 sure wasn't interested in having a steady girlfriend until he met Leticia and it wasn't til years later I found out they had had a kid together.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WeYsTmIzjkw
So just recapping that: even though Afroman had never even hit the scene, I had outlined some of the values I had, and others I wasn't aware of. Even though Franklin 1.0 had already had his first child, a son, and, I suppose, had provided something for him from his falsely requested worker's compensation claim on a hundred grand or whatever (much of which was mooched from his so-called buddies, the non-wogball types). Even though young Franklin 1.0, like many kids from the old suburb, had had little babies, I was not interested in having babies, I had no awareness of how to save money beyond a few hundred dollars, I was even robbing my roommate's rent money from 471 Cleveland. I had sexual instincts like a farm animal, like a hog or something. If you were a christian I wouldn't hold it against you in those days. I had no idea of the concept of providing for a woman, none whatsoever. I vaguely thought getting a university degree would be good but it was a very abstract concept, spaceships might seem realer in actuality, even though they weren't something I thought about in those days. It was a beautiful day in the Milky Way Galaxy, one after another, numerous other galaxies were out there too, like Andromeda, etc. None of them needed me and neither did trillions of other stars in own own Milky Way Galaxy. Still I would get high (on marijuana), during the Franklin 2.0 jewgirl 2.0 days. This would be the most I'd smoke ever. I needed an artistic space which film school provided, as well as much support I could muster in this regard, to plumb the heights of pot-smoking. Keeping in mind there were kids at film school on lsd and ecstasy and God knows what other drugs, all around the place, wherever. It was a mystery how the college professors could babysit these drugged out nutjobs, they belonged in the army or something. Remembering my background, all the hillbilly nutjobs in my family, my mom being on all those anti-psychotics and even my own bro having fried his brain with marijuana with help from my 'friends' back in the days of Franklin 1.0 and the Center of Nothingness campus and reverting to anti-psychotics as a way of life, back in 1995 or 1996. Even so, weighing the pros and cons, I'd take my chances smoking the most marijuana possible, while avoiding all other drugs except alcohol. It didn't play out well but I was able to discover some disassociated psychotic states like that that were truly and utterly tantalizing and wouldn't have been possible elsewise. Anyway I had a lot of underlying trauma so whatever, the past is what it is, I never had any good values. At least jewgirl 1.0 was smart enough to realize what kind of dummy I was and not take me very seriously, probably too much molly (ecstasy) damaged her brain as well. It sure is everywhere: ecstasy, cocaine, acid, crack cocaine in america, crystal meth, heroin, you name it. Sure seems like the Universe is full of possibility when you're young, but becomes less so.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VClibhIWqiM
One day with Franklin 2.0 and some catwalk model Eleanor Pearl, that used to live with (kissed by a rose) Seal, in London, she said. I made the best video clip ever. At film school, in early 1999, it was like a Da Vinci, seriously kickass, like dropping a test nuke, just playing it for people - sick. I mean I would only make something like that if I was smoking a lot of pot. Even the nun lady in my videoclip is smoking pot, so it's like it's everywhere.
Best video clip ever...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_lK4cX5xGiQ
Only three years later from Franklin 2.0 and I making that nun videoclip, and about four and half from that pool game with him, I walked into the pool table area and started talking to a Greek Australian girl. She was cute and interested in me. I guess I could have started shtooping her or spending more time with her but I wasn't so interested. I ended up catching up with Franklin 2.0 on the day of Obama's second inauguration as I saw him randomly walking down the street a few miles from the pubspace mentioned, and gave him a ride. I mean shoot, that place always has its doors open to me, and like Newcastle, its a friendly and accommodating space where I feel positive universal vibrations, I never know why I don't go to those positive places more often. Good place to write a book or something, that pub.
Lights, camera, action! I had two big lights from film school equipment depot where i'd just started up in the fall 1998 (march), set up on pub tables respectively and Franklin 2.0 had changed into his marine training outfit (khakis). The extremely gay cook (he'd get gaybashed just walking around outside and end up with a black eye, very gay) was playing in character but with a dopey wig on and Franklin 2.0, my notes for his character (Willy Big Doodle) said 'gay/straight?' There was a lot of dialog and it was pretty disgusting. One guy at film school described it as south park inspired and one of the ladies at the bar said I was a sick puppy.
Bro, or sis, or uncle or aunt, actually, as we Spaniards say, tío, tía. As mentioned above, we (the royal we, his benjiness' various personalities or facets) walked into the pool space in the pub with the 'my girl' song, after a break of a few years to see the cute eGreek (eGreek as internet had exploded that year, 2002) Australian girl there. On the old rockabilly dance floor of Sunday nights of yore, and there were a couple of girls to mention from those lost years. Also American girls, like jewgirl 1.0, (jewgirl 2.0 was an Australianized Canadian). These two American girls from the lost years were North Korea and South Korea and were both live in girlfriends, like mini wives. North Korea was only half Korean and from the Northern United states and South Korea was fully Korean and from the Southern United states. Or in critical race theory, they were both half Korean and American. One was born in America I guess and the other not, but both mostly always resided in America and of course they never knew each other but they were my back to back live in girlfriends as previously jewgirl 1.0 and 2.0 were just leave your toothbrush at their crib kind of girlfriends.
One time I left my first live in crib (in 2001) with the girlfriend, North Korea's home, to take a walk (alone) in the world we lived in. I'd catch a snippet of conversation from the parked taxi drivers: 'did you hear what Benjamin said today?' asked a taxi driver while blabbering to his buddy. Years later, decades later, like actually nine years later, I finally learned my lesson to save money and provide properly long term for a woman, I'd be a serious full-time taxi driver making idle conversation like that. But in those days I was addicted to alcohol and marijuana and couldn't save more than one or two thousand dollars, it's just who I was. Another day in those (2001) days with north Korea, another parked taxi driver said: 'small woman, big vagina'. I guess those words stuck with me all these years because a) my name has always been Benjamin and b) North Korea was only four feet ten inches tall but still had a vagina like any other woman's, not real tiny or anything.
South Korea comes home one day in sexy black stockings and a skirt. This is not something she's done before and it's been less than a year since the crisp winter walk from North Korea's crib past the nearby taxi rank. You'd think this sounds like a penthouse forum story, but you see, if I only read books in my teenage years and showed little sexual interest in low educated, white trash, working class girls. In my early 20s I wanted to get right inside the pants, figuratively speaking, of college girls from non working class backgrounds, unlike my own. So that's just what I did, to great effect. In fact, from 20 to 25, you could say I was a middle class thong inspector masquerading as a respectable white college kid.
This is how Benji's life is. What it means to walk the Benji walk.
Now we'll have an announcement about autism:
https://youtu.be/JPO-uOPK5RI
Random essay challenge: imagine a scenario where you feed an autistic (not Asperger's,) person a hash cookie. Is it part of a peer pressure dare? Or are you a loan [sic] wolf? Is it a prank or an experiment? Think of a backstory. Write two pages.
Failure. I'm 26 years old in the days of eGreek Australian girl at the bat and ball hotel, and my adventures with frisky women are over. I've smoked some weed with some people and come home to my mother in western Sydney (whom I'm lodging with) and obviously she thinks I'm a loser for being stoned and now I feel like a total loser for being stoned around her on this occasion. I'm not a teen-ager anymore and the years are slipping by. Mental note, must stop smoking weed or I'll be a total loser. 'Go to bed!' my mom says while I creep away stoned like a total loser. North Korea said it and now my mom never needed to use the word to get the message across: loser. Unless I could figure out a way to stop smoking weed, I'd be a loser.
When I was a little kid, of course we had Xmas carols, but this particular one noone sang it in Australia but I caught it a few times in one particular Hollywood movie, can't remember which, as a kid:
https://youtu.be/t84OSRahBRo
It's neat. I forgot to mention about Kampf campus, we had a whole separate school like a half mile or mile away (depending where on Kampf campus you were, it was, and still is, very large) for the elementary kids, with portable buildings, not bricks like at Kampf campus. Even my siblings went to this portable backup school when I was just a baby like in 1970s. I'll try to add the photos of that. My sisters are very cute in those photos. My brother seemed ok too. Nowadays Kampf campus is still there but the portable building campus is long gone, but I still have the photos.
I mean shoot, at the bad guys on the local shopping centre video arcade game, as a kid. Game over, the video game would run a message from the FBI: winners don't do drugs. Even North Korea was telling me she wanted to become an FBI agent and associating with me being a weed smoker would reflect badly on her in a lie detector test if she went that route. For real. Can you believe this? At the 'old school', that's what we called the portable building campus, separate from Kampf campus, we'd actually do Texas square dancing as little kids, just like Texans. I salute South Korea goodbye at Dulles airport, never to see her again, she salutes me back. In France one of my English language students at the oil company is telling me Texas square dancing is a big deal in Texas as he flies there alot and that's really what they do over there. I liked it as a kid for sure, we'd dosie doe then change partners. It was fun.
The next thing I might recount might be my first interactions with little kids, as an adult. I mean there I was a little kid myself, Texas square dancing with my classmates, having the time of my life. Then all kinds of stupid nonsense happened. And the entire time since I grew out of childhood, like over ten years old, I'm having nothing to do with little kids. Nada. I mean my siblings are moving towards suicidal ideation or actual completed suicide. They aren't having kids. None of my school buddies apart from Franklin 1.0 had a kid and kept me in the loop about it. My classmate Heather was pregnant at 16 but we weren't close. North Korea was babysitting some kid Victor, at some point. But I never got involved with any kid in any way I can think of. I helped a three year old climb off a bus and all the women around started feeling mushy. Come on man I've got books to read and wars to prosecute, let's go already. Anyway so I ended up back peddling on all that, in Shandong China, of all places. A thoroughly magnificent town as I recall it, Dongying, Android [sic for &] a fine place to recommence bedding a woman after saluting South Korea goodbye at Dulles international airport two and a half years earlier. These kids were seven years old and quite a sight. If they got out of line I'd walk upstairs and get the angry looking young communist lady to yell at them, that would get them shutting up. I mean for God's sake, being with these commies in China felt like being with family for me. If my father was yelling at me like a drill sargent and my brother was punching me in the face and headbutting me and wetting his bed as a seventeen year old and I still get tremors now and until I die, from all that, what do you think? You better believe kicking it in China was like chilling with a billion large family of only children for me. Definitely. And if they built up a big navy since those days, good on them. I just don't like what Xi Jinping and the other leaders are doing to the Uyghurs and the mass paranoia surveillance state they created since those days, the Navy is good but the rest is going backwards.
Anyway if I liked China, what do you think I thought of California? Cute [sic] the music...
https://youtu.be/M11SvDtPBhA
Have you ever been in a position where you never actually thought? I mean imagine you had been travelling around everywhere and met all these rad chicks everywhere, plus I'd been to eastern Europe and met some 21 year old I ended up leaving California to be with in eastern Europe. I mean, apart from writing a few things and talking, I don't think I actual had any thoughts in California. Even my girlfriend there said I looked like a baby. The busdriver when I arrived at LAX from Seoul said 'come on baby!' when she opened the door coz I just stood there like a baby. I got pulled over by cops at Topanga canyon in my ride: coz I literally wasn't thinking, it never even occurred to me to transfer my ride into my name at the DMV coz like, what's a DMV anyway, we have RTA in Australia (cops never told me to transfer car registration with DMV either and who knew property damage insurance was compulsory in America, that's not how the English do it) and I forgot Australia even existed, I'd just been in China over a year and a half, plus Seoul and NYC (9 months together the last two), like two years altogether. Later in Hollywood cops cuff and frisk me probably with guns out. Neither of these episodes with the cops produced even a blip of fear or thought or even nervousness in me. The only thing that scared me was the rolling 60s gang banger at the homeless shelter threatening to kill whoever stole his stuff, and that was a whole different level of fear, felt around the testicles or innards thereabouts, maybe the sphincter, I'd never even known could exist. Definitely the cops in California are like big teddy bears even if they're screaming at you with guns out. You can believe me if I say I like the Miley Cyrus song, party in the USA, right? (I really do, so much so I'd be willing to take her on as a student just based on that one song, even if it accidentally ruined her life, causing her to be put under a conservatorship or something). Months in California roll into eternity without thought. Imagine watching a sunset so beautiful, and not one stupid thought to ruin it. Nirvana. The Californians were all acting like subconsciously they were listening to Cyndi Lauper, girls just wanna have fun, all day, every day. They didn't care about their troops, the war in Iraq, America was a backward thing attached to them they tried not to think about, these people were the most republican Americans you could meet because they treated their State and existence as life in a separate republic separate to america. President Bush was never to be mentioned or treated upon. Nobody cares about really anything except getting rich and celebrity which is an important part of LA life. Still it's such a big city, there's every chance you won't run into anyone famous. Remember how I was saying winners don't do drugs a moment ago? Californians and Los Angelinos don't care about that. At all. Even I thought I'd licked smoking weed. Since those days with mom, feeling like a loser, like three years, no weed. First night in LA, I smoke up. Still it wasn't much in total, but I never found a place like that to party, so why not cut loose a little? Amaze balls. With my girls all around me y'all. That's the last place I smoked weed, in early 2007! It's been a long time now, over fourteen years.
Anyway, since I'm not thinking much, and I'm still the kind of person that can't even save more than four thousand dollars or less, and it's a world you can always get on an airplane and go somewhere else, pre covid. Coz I stopped thinking, I can't think about the repercussions of leaving america as a non citizen with no visa. All the bullshit about the American dream, it's only good if you're in America or can get back into america. I've stopped thinking coz I'm traveling so much, and meeting so many friendly women in their 20s everywhere I go, it's like they're everywhere creeping around, and many of them don't care I'm broke, they just want hugs and kisses all the time, and massages and stuff.
I never believed I needed to care about losing the American dream coz the kingdom of heaven is within right? Strength doesn't come through numbers, it comes through nights of peaceful slumber, like with the rolling 60s crips in downtown LA homeless shelter, right?
Wrong.
Leaving LA at this point to go live in Bulgaria is nuts. I just straight up did the wrong thing. What i can tell you is that I signed my own death warrant, even if I'd survive it. Which I did, don't put yourself in the position where you'll go to hell. You know if you read about near death experiences they're talking about hell and how bad it is? (and that's how bad Russian communism is too, in the spiritual world). All that stuff it says in the bible in Ezekiel or wherever about repenting and not acting like a stupid spoilt whore. Wow, I can honestly tell you, as if I've died and gone to hell, believe what it says. Two years in Bulgaria turn into a slow and grinding hell. It's better to go to war and get your leg blown off. At least you'll have your battle buddies there with you. Never try telling me Russian communism is anything but pure evil Bolshevik hell, I'd never believe you ever, no how. A few Russian communism folks in the west you can handle, but when they're all en masse, what's the point? Even if you were just flying in to catch a concert, I'd pass. I'd pass on any authoritarian regime that constantly spews hostility for the West. Pass. Jim Morrison was right, the west is the best. But Mr Garrison from south park was also right: drugs are bad mkay?
I do not doubt for a second that many thousands of people when they die, will go to hell just like I did when I left LA to live in Bulgaria. So that it never mattered if my physical body was alive, actually it only did because I literally almost died one time from varicella in Bulgaria, very close to dying and it seemed I was going to end up in heaven actually after some hard time. Kind of similar to the reality which played out where I kept my physical body. I guess yeah, in the spirit world without the physical body there wasn't going to be a sense of time as it seemed in that near death experience. I don't mean to say going to war and getting your leg blown off and dying will dictate if you go to hell or heaven in your afterlife, I'm just saying you'd have your battle buddies with you which is good, but in Bulgaria I had no battle buddies, just a hell. Would have been good for my wife if I'd died that time with varicella also, would have saved her a lot of suffering. Don't let anyone tell you trying to purify yourself and overcome weakness in yourself and sin is virtue signaling. And never think because you've always been sweet with your own society, that you'll escape hell. If you're selfish, and really don't care about others and their needs, in an authentic way, not just to appear caring without truly caring. If that's who you are, you'll probably go to hell. Seems like the bible doesn't speak well of lukewarm people either. Better put a quote on that.
Isaiah 29:13 - The Lord says: "These people come near to me with their mouth and honour me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. Their worship of me is based on merely human rules they have been taught."
I guess prior to living in Bulgaria, I could manifest many positive traits like calmness, peacefulness, but never had a concept of saving more than four thousand dollars at a time. Somewhat lazy. I'm not sure if God valued my prayers, if my heart was far from God's. After the great disaster of Bulgaria, and being in relationship with my wife in general, I'm not sure if I'm offending God even worse than before and further from God's heart. Difficult to say. If you're accursed you're accursed. I guess I've overcome my addictions to pot and alcohol and cigarettes but was all the anger worth it? Again, can't say. Everyone makes their bed at the end of the day, and lies in it. What's certain is that God's justice and inevitable punishment will effect so many people that mistakenly think they have nothing to worry about there. Same time, I wouldn't presume to know who, how, where and when God judges the people, so best not to judge. Just learning the lesson that being a dopey do gooding lefty western pot smoking liberal has its limits, like everything else.
Regarding the folks from my old-town. While Franklin 1.0 had left Kampf campus and the aforementioned adjunct to it (the old school). And Franklin had his own clique at Center of Nothingness campus, still by senior year we had cemented our former clique from Kampf campus, Winston and Joseph (not their real names), mad guitar Murphy (his real name) had come from their respective elementary schools, Joseph (Joey) from a separate one. Along with Franklin 1.0 we cliqued up a lot in senior year as Winston and I were sharing an apartment in sunny Newcastle. Mad guitar Murphy was never a fan of Franklin 1.0 (although he did like Franklin 2.0) and he was my roommate at 471 (Murphy) although not part of the clique at the bat and ball hotel, which was like a family to me. I can now see how my relationship with him in those particular days (we have an extremely long lasting relationship) is similar to my relationship with my wife, in that she does not like to include me with some of her buddies like workmates, that's a similar situation to what I was having with my workmates Sally and Sam and other colleagues at the bar. It's just my relationships with everyone there was superchummy and second home like, kind of like the tv show cheers. Anyway along with the aforementioned characters in senior year I had my two buddies from my new school that year, Tim and Brook, who had studied at a Steiner school. Two of the girls from Kampf campus were always around and one of them ended up marrying another guy from our clique. The other girl was always sitting next to me for years and years in rollcall class and we were in the same classes since first grade or second grade, every year. Year after year. She was a very nice girl and married very well, I understand, and is very happy with her life and kids. She was a very good looking girl and I never misjudged her for the fact that our school had a low academic output, it never even occurred to me, I just wasn't interested in getting into a steady relationship young at all, like when I new her, like boyfriend and girlfriendy. Her and the other girl had met my mother a few times when coming over to pick me up for group get togethers as we were all part of the same clique along with Franklin 1.0 and etc. They also liked mad guitar Murphy. And mad guitar Murphy still stays friends with one of them and her husband, also from our clique but not from Kampf campus, as he went to a private catholic school, probably all boys. I mean I guess everyone was kind of selfish that last year of school (for me), my Kampf campus buddies had graduated high school the year before. That's pretty common for teenagers in the west I suppose, everyone just narcissistic and preening and looking out for themselves, but at the same time very communal and sociable.
The Center of Nothingness campus was so poor academically, they were on the front page of the Daily Telegraph in 1996 (while I was either qualifying to enter university in Spain through extreme study techniques I'm very masterful at, or else enrolled in university in Spain already.)
https://www.smh.com.au/education/painful-memories-of-mount-druitts-maligned-class-of-96-20100128-n1sd.html
I also scored 81.25 (at Newcastle) in my ranking, higher than 81.24% of the State, but the Daily Telegraph would never report on some kid from their favorite most hated school scoring like that and they certainly wouldn't condescend to treat a lowly greaseball wog from western Sydney as an equal to themselves, given the amount of money their parents would have spent on their high schooling and their innate perceived racial superiority being amongst the anglo-saxon and northern european aryan master races (no wonder Hitler never wanted to go hard on the Brits trapped at Dunkirk when they could have, birds of a feather will flock together, that's for sure), so wildly superior to the southern europeans. I'd leave it to the Italian adulterine sluts, after that stinking nonsensical posture, to garble the word 'dean' instead of teen with them and stoop to their pathetic level. The left wing newspapers, like the Sydney Morning Herald, I refused to treat with after one of their star journalists, Wendy Bacon, tried to insinuate in the most condescending and ridiculous terms, that I was a plagiarist, how can a greaseball Spaniard write better than our superior and loftily supreme anglo-saxon race young man? Fuck off assholes! Seriously, just listening to Australians talking on TV is enough to make me grab the controller and turn it off, what a bunch of stone cold dumbass posturing, preening, lost losers. Pathetic. Scum too when you consider the amount of drugs they're on. Pitiful. What a bunch of miserable closet homosexuals they are, man hating frustrated women on the left and dumb english redneck rightists. Miserably thick with adultery and bullshit.
Cue the Benji:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DWaB4PXCwFU
Anyway, as much as I might like to bitch about Australian media, I do enjoy reading articles from left and right and appreciate their economics journalists and especially crime journalists (as I find this topic quite interesting). While I might not talk about eastern Europe and Russia much, I can tell you, my opinion is much lower, of their journalism and politics. Everyone will have their own opinions about the matter but people are also transformative beings, so that their prior beliefs don't always match their beliefs later in life. My beliefs of Russian styled communism (Bolshevism) are based on my experiences. Also, I am much more deeply read and informed on Russian history, in the Lenin and post Lenin era, than most Russians are. The latter, like the Californians, just focus on what they have in sight and at present and don't care about the past. Furthermore, in Russia, many people remember Lenin and Stalin well and preserve statues of them. So while Americans might tear down statues of relatively nice guys like Washington and Jefferson, merely for being white, Russians would never tear down statues of Stalin or Lenin in a hurry, even though Stalin was a real mass murderer.
Anyway I'll cut to the economic conditions when I arrived in early 2007: basically, an excellent wage would be considered around 500 euros a month. This would actually be considered a very good wage, and if you and your spouse were on these wages, you would easily consider yourself well off in Bulgaria as you could service a mortgage and the supermarket products, electricity, internet, and many other things, are amazingly cheap. At this point I entered Bulgaria to reside, I was at the vanguard of European Union citizens permitted to reside in Bulgaria from January 1st, 2007. However, as mentioned, there were so many objective considerations on my mind prior to relocating, I did not bother checking if I would be legal to live there. Neither, when I flew into Paris, in July 2004, and purchased a train ticket to Bulgaria, did I consider the ticket might not exist or be too expensive: I just assumed it would be achievable and didn't think much about the logistics. Keeping in mind, I'm never carrying around more than about three thousand American dollars (and didn't even have a return ticket to China or anywhere else). My idea on this occasion (summer 2004) was simply do a one month course in Sofia to get a certification in teaching English as a second language, then return to China where I was resident in Shandong and stay there (in China), since my heart was in China in those days (I guess it still would be if I'd been badmouthing the government! ha ha ha! random joke about organ harvesting in case you didn't understand). The train ride to Bulgaria was fine and I maybe stopped in Vienna or somewhere for a day, went on to the course in Sofia, met a 21 year old woman there amongst the students that were there to take classes with the teachers taking the course. Her and I ended up marrying and having three kids, but in those days we just dated once outside of class and I didn't pay a lot of attention to her in class either, I never really thought much about her.
Anyway from July 2004 to my new arrival from California in early 2007, Bulgaria's economy was rapidly advancing and progressing from Russian built cars like Ladas, etc, to used western cars sourced from western europe, this was very noticeable in the 32 month interim. Many people were only making about 400 Euros a month or even 200 euros a month, and while this may seem a small amount, it represented a tremendous advance from the conditions in the 1980s, or those in Cuba still today. Among the best qualities to be appreciated in eastern Europeans is the ability of generation Z or whichever generation, in readapting their societies from marxist/centrally planned, to free and open capitalistic. Because entering the game late and poor puts you at a disadvantage, many Bulgarians end up working for western corporations headquartered in Dublin, that are eager to take advantage of the cheap labor pool (500 euros a month, per person, tops, as at 2007/2008). So for example my last job in early 2009 was with an Israeli owned internet gambling company, quite a large one. Although the profits were large, the money was going directly into the pockets of these Israeli owners and the staff in Bulgaria was very minimal, and paid peanuts. I only stayed a month or so and went back to Australia, happy to leave (and never return). While that's the capitalist way, for a few Israelis ponying up the money, to get all the profits, there were many loopholes exploited, so all the money went through Gibraltar (tax free), on the Iberian Peninsula and other tricks no doubt like washing money through whichever safe haven. Well I'll aside and say, for example, in Mississippi, where gambling on land is illegal, they actually build gigantic casinos and park them on water in Mississippi so it's literally a small step from dry land onto the giant hotel complex which is technically floating on water. The planet is full of these loopholes, no doubt, but the stubborn fact remains that gambling is evil. But still, the marxist planned central economy, Russian Bolshevism, is the worst, even without gambling.
Encompassing the Bulgarian language was extremely difficult as I have absolutely no background in Slavic languages whatsoever. Even so, people would be deeply surprised to see how much Bulgarian language I picked up in two years there. This was also made possible by changing jobs regularly (so in two years I had about 10 or 15 different jobs in total), at IBM I stayed a few months, maybe five and then just left anyway. Also I took advantage of my extreme learning techniques to accelerate learning, in this case this involved smashing glass and other things and punching things. Still, even though I don't use the language much anymore, I could easily communicate with both of my in-laws when they visited Australia afterwards, as they couldn't even speak English, communication was very simple anyway. I hope they appreciated it, probably not.
As the people are transitioning from a poor economy to an essentially richer and more dynamic one, no doubt they do not need little do-gooders like me judging them, however, all I could do was realize the realities there and report them: 1) smug people smug in a sense of awareness of what's real and what's bullshit, that really think they're very clever over there. 2) everyone among the younger generation seems to think communism is dead and buried, 'oh that ended years ago', so no owning communism by the younger generation. 3) Bulgarians and probably all eastern European people are super insular, it's all about their particular country and no-one cares about the other country. 4) micky-mouse-ism, despite transitioning from communism, there are no stellar journalists like that lady in Russia that had the FSB or whichever thugs unload like five AK-47s into her car for bitching about crony, robber-baron, kleptocrats. My wife, and other journalists, some of whom I met with her on a press junket, actually seemed dumber than the average person on the street, but this is something that happens in Australia too and the paradox is that by thinking themselves smarter than the average person, their pride makes them dumber. My wife is still a victim of this kind of psychology even though she doesn't work in journalism anymore. It's a personality disorder, it's good to think you're smart but it's bad when you start believing you're just too smart for everyone. I'll sit here and put shit on journalists non-stop, but when I read their articles, I will appreciate them (the articles, but not necessarily the person behind it). But one or two of these Bulgarian journalists were just too much, I mean they were like calling Bill Gates just 'lucky' and the lucky guy that came along and made Windows like he was just going to be like one of those destitute marxists if that never happened for him. Jesus. Pitiful. Bulgarians can tell you you're sick, but they can't (understand or) tell you you're sick of Bulgaria because it's sickening because they're too dumb to realize that. I mean if you told them that, they'd probably say: hey stop bro, you're hurting my feelings and sense of national identity and self worth, because, at the end of the day, they're not complete idiots. No, there are a lot of likeable Bulgarians but I never found any journalist, anywhere, that was likeable, except for Bill Hemmer and only because he looks like Clark Kent should look, really, before he undresses. I guess that's why. Can you imagine him dressed as Superman with the red cape and spandex? Dare to dream, my friends, dare to dream.
I did meet a brother and sister that were both half-Russian, half-Bulgarian, like my wife (and her brother I suppose). She (my wife) was in Northern California at the time, and why I stay with her is anyone's guess but probably is a sign of being deeply wrong and accursed by God, for life, since day one. Probably a failure of Asturian genes, possibly inbred or something, who knows? These two kids, in their 20s, were potheads and smoking away when I went to visit them. There was no end of people for me to meet in Bulgaria, I tell you, it's almost like in the Gospels where you have to enter town poor and shake the dust from your shoes if no-one invites you in. I mean I lived poor for so long and it was so much easier to make friends with people, people were bringing me into their home in China, Virginia, Paris, everywhere man. Here too in Sofia. Man I met a lot of people there. If I wrote a book about it, I mean it would be an interesting book. They're definitely interesting societies, these marxist societies (Bolshevik), but the pride and know it all smugness was really the thing that made me angry. So angry. That's the thing in China you don't see because in China, they will cut your heart out, torture you. Starve you. Beat you. You will not be smug. Even Xi Jinping's own father got that kind of exile treatment from the Party in China because they started viewing him as too Bourgeois. I mean if I say Joseph Stalin, you're not going to think: stinking rich, are you? You'd think dictator, brutal, tyrant, murderer. But if I say, Vladimir Putin, I don't think torturer or brutal. If I think murderer it would only be murderer lite or mini murderer, kind of like mini me in the Austin Powers movies. Vlad's a relatively nice guy, but when I think of Vlad I think of cashed up billionaire. Nobody would think of Joseph Stalin as a billionaire because he's not the kind of guy you associate with billionaire, but Vlad Putin yes, absolutely (think Malibu Stacey). I mean Stalin was such a craven murderer, he murdered so many people in his inner circle and around that, so many times, over decades. An absolute murdering bastard. I see him very differently to Mao. People say, Mao, murderer! But letting people starve to death in their millions, like Stalin and Mao did is not what it seems. I mean yeah, you're trying to impose something on these people and they're not obeying you and consequently they end up starving because your side isn't buckling either. This is what's going to happen when you're dealing with stubborn people that resist. Today's Democrats in America are more akin to the Bolsheviks of the 1930s in Russia than anything I've seen in China. People in China don't resist, and if they do, they can get tortured and beaten until they are happy to recant. People in modern Russia and eastern Europe have nothing to fight against barely. You do see a little resistance in Russia but the majority of Russians don't want it, and Putin is absolutely speaking from the heart when he says he doesn't want riots and anarchy on the streets in Russia. Of course, when the Russians riot in big numbers then there'll be a revolution and then a strong man has to come out on top - or a proper democracy/two-party state. A strong leader like Stalin is very rare, he would absolutely sit down with you and your family and think about who he's going to have killed from amongst you. Mao wasn't like that either, although not a girl scout, not saying he was a girl scout. Again, when you're talking about tens of millions dying, you can't just blame all that on the leader. But I've studied Stalin's entire life and this guy was killing large amounts of people from his 20s so much so, he really made Bin Laden look like a puppy dog. No wonder the U.S. Navy even gave him an honorable burial at sea and a moniker: Geronimo.
Anyway when I pulled in to Sofia that first time in July 2004, my roommate was a lovely lady from the military academy in Skopje, Macedonia, Biljana. (Also my wife's new niece's name, she's not even 9 months old). I don't think Biljana 1.0 was lying about being an English language teacher at the military academy in Skopje, she came gushing to me one day (in July 2004) that a bunch of U.S. Navy admirals or top brass were approaching her about something (big feather in her hat). I'm not sure if that was in Skopje amongst the other military brass there (or else in Sofia, while she was with me, probably the latter). I think Oliver Stone was shooting Alexander somewhere in those days, July 2004, maybe in Mexico but a guy I'd met there in Sofia was saying he was working as an extra in it, or something. I met a big Hollywood film financer in those days in Sofia also. But really, as you can tell, what I want to talk about is what's under the surface in the psyche of the people, the ethereal hell they'd been creating since the 1920s (in Russia, and post ww2 in Bulgaria). For example these half Russian half Bulgarian brother and sister, in Sofia, while my wife was in California, we were watching a movie one day, a Russian movie with a big budget and big special effects, and one of the characters in the movie is bitching about 'the gloom'. It's a gloominess I would think a lot of Bolshevik society people should feel in the air, in their societies. All these people that were sacrificed up for murder and gulag, the 1930s, 40s, 50s in Russia, up until Stalin died. What a disgrace. What an absolute disgusting blemish on the Soul of these people. What makes me angry and feel contempt for these people is their absolute non-awareness and ignorance of these people that were crushed under the boot-heel of the Stalinists. I mean even the stinking fascists in Spain have built a memorial for the people that died in the civil war, even if they don't want to bother digging up bones. We all know bodies mount up during a civil war. And you have to consider three decades under Stalin as a state run, top down civil war on the individual. By the Bolshevik party. This is not comparable to China, as I was saying before. The Russians need to pull down their statues of Stalin and Lenin and recognize these people, but they won't and so I hate the Russians. But since I know how they operate, I would just avoid them. This isn't to say I can't have a Russian for a friend, like my buddy Sergei or my mother in law. It just means I absolutely despise this particular aspect of them, all of them.
Still, living through that, made me realize I had to honor and respect the people that died in wars fighting for Australia, even if the English (U.K) never fought in Vietnam. Even if Spain isn't the backward third world weakling Nation the backward dumb English rednecks of Australia would have you believe. All the people that die in wars for your country, have to be respected. That's what I hate about Bolsheviks: they kill their own people, on the grounds of enemy of the State, enemy of the totalitarian, Bolshevik ideal. And then they don't honor them. I mean the Koran does say not to mourn or honor your enemies at their graveside, so maybe all those killed people really were unbelievers to the Bolsheviks, but I can't de dissuaded that Stalin wouldn't end up in hell, like the Judas he was. Son of a bitch.
Anyway so I've only mentioned a couple of jobs in Bulgaria so far and some education there a few years before the big stay. Another job I went to some guy's apartment with a team of builders and he looked like a total loser. I mean many Bulgarians never looked like losers to me in general, but this guy did. He was living with his parents and he pointed outside the window of the apartment to a little hut below on the ground and started explaining to me: during communist times (only less than 20 years ago, so when me and Franklin 1.0 had moved on from Kampf elementary to Kampf high (7th grade) and adopted Winston and Joey, although not mad guitar Murphy, into our tribe - ie., in 1988. In 1988 Bulgaria was still a communist country). As the gentleman was explaining, the line of people snaking around for a few pounds of flour and sugar and bread. What a joke. And the thing is that the Russians pushing this, they absolutely love it. You should have seen my buddy Sergei and my mother in law, both from Siberia, how their faces light up like xmas trees or serial killers telling detectives about their kills, oh my God, what a disgrace. Oh communism, what a utopia Sergei is telling me. My mother in law, the same, we always had jobs, we always had a holiday, always had food. What a joke. It's hard to believe such great people as the Russians can be that dumb. But they can. It's like the people in western Sydney. It's an industrial powerhouse but they will absolutely flunk at school, no doubt. No brains. Not like jews like me and jewgirl 1.0 and 2.0. We don't believe in this bullshit, none of us and we aren't dummies, we jews, (i can't say i'm jewish for sure, but i'm so smart i probably am, ha ha, just contradicted myself for dissing people for being too smug and thinking they're clever). But yeah, the guy was saying, man that line snaked around for a mile on special days like around xmas when you had double rations. I was telling my father in law one day at the kitchen table, with his wife there, this was before they visited Australia. Of course I was absolutely broke and living paycheck to paycheck: 'there was no xmas with Stalin' I said. 'There was', my father in law meekly and lamely countered. Fucking communists. Sons of bitches. Even my father in law was pissed off about it looking at me one day at the kitchen table there. That's what really brings home he hates communism: the sight of my face. Ha ha ha ha. I'll have to post a photo of he and I in Sydney. I called him a faggot one day (I learned that trick from North Korea, her and her sister apparently very fond of calling their father a faggot. My daughters are only six and four and will only call me: big fat pig or fat pig. That's just how some girls deal with fascists for a dad, I guess). Man that guy flipped his wig, I really though he was going to hit me. If you want to make an eastern European angry, just called them a faggot, oh my God. I mean I've been called a faggot plenty of times and that doesn't bother me. I guess my father in law just didn't want to hear that coming from me. I don't like communism. And I don't trust Jen Psaki (devil woman (my name for her) or 'evildoer' as George W Bush would say) when she says 'communism is a failed ideology'. And Facebook is really a communist thing.
To be very specific,in my trashy white trash hometown, where I grouped the minority non white people in with everyone else as white trash, the issue wasn't race, even if I was a racist or Franklin 1.0 was a racist or the Maori new Zealander guy hated white people. The issue was people procreating based on anticipating government subsidies for their children. People in greater Sydney are aghast at my trashy hometown because the young people will have a child with anyone that gives them good sex. This is because the women have zero expectation of going to university (which they don't do) and if the guy that catches their fancy gets them pregnant, they know they'll get a big cash payout from the government. Despite Australia having one of the lowest payout system for the unemployed in the developed OECD countries, it has one of the highest reward systems for single mothers. Many parasitical people take advantage of this. Now when I was enrolled with the elites in Sydney, I can tell you the two thirds of my classmates that scored over 99% in their SAT ranking (compared to my mediocre 81.25%), these kids were coming from uber wealthy privileged families and we didn't have barely anything in common or to talk about. As a mature age student (21, 3 years older than majority student body), I found the other one third of the student body populated by women over 21, often in their 30s, who had fried their eggs, couldn't keep a man to impregnate and provide for them, and were spiteful and caustic as a result. Perhaps these latter women might be persuaded to mooch off the government in the event of single parenthood, but the majority student body were mostly from insanely wealthy backgrounds or else Such good students, they would not be interested in this. It may be the middle class company I kept after graduating high school, and even in senior year as my classmate Tim's family was very wealthy also (super rich). That these middle class folks influenced me not to get any random woman pregnant then keep the child's upkeep on the taxpayers shoulders, I can't say for sure but that's the example they set, but I sooner brought my girlfriend to the morning after pill clinic one time in senior year, then let her unthinkingly fall pregnant, so I knew what I was doing. I've never left any child of mine to be taken care of by someone else except its own mother (or me), no rich buddies or parent's money or state money needed, I mean I would have liked my inheritance from my parents sooner but que será será hombre. So when I see black people doing this in America, or trashy white people doing this in my hometown, I'm not afraid to say black American trash or white trash because I have to be real. Because a nigga like Benji has to be real, or a cracker, but real. Not pretend.
