Nannie

from Strangler Sproose, forthcoming

Duc Montaine fell asleep in the tree.  When he woke up, he was the tree.  His family thought he was dead, so they tried to kill him, but by then it was too late.  But that’s not how this story begins.  It begins long before Duc was even born.  After the collapse of the United States and the suicide of the British Commonwealths, the North American Union was forged between the anvil of Chinese Foreclosure and the hammer of their Orbital Ballistic Program.  Three generations later President Christopher Fu Hsing launched the American Seed Foundation.

After centuries in interstellar darkness, Nannie Fleet Three entered its destination cluster and began casting about for planets to seed.  Fleet Three still maintained tenuous radio contact with sister fleets, sent off in disparate directions from Mother Earth toward other likely star clusters.  The different fleets couldn’t help each other; they were light years too distant, but the planners at American Seed opined that additional information would always be useful to the descendants, at least, of their precious cargo.  Many Nannies were lost to interstellar accidents – rogue meteoroid strikes, bursts of radiant energy from variable stars, mechanical failure.  Their frozen cargo died, never quickening.

After decades of investigation, Nannie Three B began her approach to her chosen world.  Its name, Missouri, had been preselected for her by the master programmers of the Foundation, so as not to duplicate the names of other possible habitable worlds in her cluster.  The naming of other things, and indeed, of her children, was to be determined by a random number generator.  Bearing in mind that there is no such thing as a “random number generator,” Nannie’s program was to be seeded by observed celestial phenomena, the time of selection, ambient temperature and atmospheric pressure, wind velocity, and other factors programmed for appropriate “randomness.”  It worked well enough.

Because the master programmers of the ASF wished to preserve and disseminate American culture, the naming of locations and the first children was to be influenced by certain American novelists, whose significance were given various weights depending on the biases of the programmers themselves, and their relevance to the selected world name.  As a consequence of the Missouri bias, the first generation of children included Beccie Thatjer, Nigger Djim, Ree Dollie, Hamilton Felics, Talja al Ghul, Huc Finn, and Uaioming Gnott.

Still cradling her babies in their high-temperature superconducting polymer cells, Nannie floated down on a pillar of fire.

The slumbering sedge patiently awaited the stir that might signal the delivery of breakfast, and, if she were lucky, an especially delicious feral flyer.  Somehow, this morning, the sun seemed fuller, deeper, more vibrant, and sweet — until it was too much, as if lightning had struck the ground.  As the fire touched her fronds, ionic pulses raced along her dendritic tendrils and she withered in anguish, sucking moisture back into her root ball before it could be lost to the heat.  As the invader settled into its throne of flame, her upper vegetation reduced to ash and vapor, she retreated to the safety of her sub-apical cortex, but the mud was too tight, and the pain seared into her core as the wet hissed out of her pores and she died as Nannie touched down.

As Nannie settled to earth, plumes of steam rose about her, expunging the alien sky, obscuring the newly won sun, and shrouding the scorched ground. 

Verbal Easements

22 January 2017

Drunk chicks can call each other cunts and sluts and bitches all night long and never a tender feeling gets hurt. Don’t you dare, you brute, or you’ll never lay a filthy paw on her silky drawers again!

The brothers can call each other coon and spook and jigaboo all afternoon, it’s all in good fun. Now let Jackie Chan show up, smile broadly, and ask, “What up, muh nigga?” and by golly do the hijinks ensue!

Whether it’s athletes in the locker room, or cops on the beat, or nurses on the nightshift, every cadre develops its grips and shiboleths that say “It’s okeh. I’m one of you guys. I’m allowed to talk this way.”

With GIs, it’s “chickenhawk.” As offensive as it is to watch civilian politicians on TV drone on about America’s great sacrifices overseas, it is almost worse to see non-vets and non-GIs wearing camo-print leisurewear as their way of “supporting the troops.” However, just as a paraplegic can be educated about baseball, so too can folks outside the military family speak knowledgeably about foreign policy and use of force and the tragedy versus atrocity of collateral damage. That’s not what bugs me. In its proper pejorative sense, “chickenhawks” generally lack coherent arguments, personal experience, or years of scholarship to back up their cant. They seem far too often to be proponents of, “Let’s you and him fight.”

So, while I have no respect for chickenhawks, not every non-vet, non-GI proponent of war (involving someone else’s kid) is necessarily a chickenhawk. But just about anyone I hear in the street, on the job, or in a bar saying “We oughta just go over there and kick Ahmed’s (or Ivan’s or Fritz’ or Jose’s) ass and take his oil (or vodka or schnapps or tequila.)” probably IS.

So, unless you’re a vet yourself, or still in uniform (casual salute), don’t let me hear you saying “chickenhawk” about an otherwise anonymous war booster unless you can do it in an original or amusing fashion.

You’re on our turf here, and we’re sensitive about that shit.

SSgt Gene, USAF

Chameleon Boy, Saturn Girl, Phantom Girl, Colossal Boy, Gigi Cusimano, Cosmic Boy, Triplicate Girl (all depicted by Steve Lightle), Shvaugn Erin, and Jan (Element Lad) Arrah (both depicted by Colleen Doran & Al Gordon), are all properties of Detective Comics and Warner Communications.  Their images are reproduced by Piracy Press for purposes of analysis and scholarship.  If anything, their use here constitutes free advertisement for DC‘s properties at the considerable expense of Piracy Press and Greigh Area Associates.

Stories are selected with the greatest of discrimination, but even numbered issues of Daring Love are specifically edited with the prurient interests of atavistic fanboys in mind.  Reader discretion is advised.

Best in Show

21 November 2020

As an avid amateur actor, I have developed two things.  A hatred of stage make-up and an affinity for tribal traditions.  My “tribe” in this case is obviously the “dress up and make believe” crowd, and by extension, the professionals.  As a consequence, even though I never had a “dog in that fight” I enjoyed reflecting on the Oscars and the Emmys and the Tonys as they were handed out.  Of course, I never took any of it “seriously” because it is, by design, trivial fun.  However, as leftie zealots took the opportunity to hijack the events to bang their own drums, the show lost some luster.

By the time Sonny Corleomo picked up his Emmy, I was completely unimpressed.  It had devolved into an obvious insiders’ club generations ago, so I no longer nursed any illusions.  When the motion picture academy declined to give Ronald Reagan a lifetime achievement award, I thought that it was no oversight, just proper benign neglect.  While I have enormous respect for Ronald Reagan (as an ACTOR) I realize that his greatest artistic achievements took place on the small screen.  From guest appearances on Wagon Train and hosting Death Valley Days, to his magnum opus as “The President,” he touched millions of viewers with his skill, his poise, his humor, and his presence.  An award from the television industry would not have surprised me except for the obvious fact that most in the entertainment biz are spiteful commie twits.  Republicans aren’t much better, but at least they give superior lip-service to freedom.  When the Emmys declined to so honor such a fitting recipient, they surrendered the remains of their tattered credibility.

Which is why Sonny’s Emmy didn’t bother or surprise me. 
Actually, come to think of it, it’s kind of cool. Once again Sonny’s “accomplishments” eclipse Fredo’s fumbling attempts.

update 201226: My “conservative” friends, whom I often tease as leftie sympathizers, have as hard a time picturing me hanging out with other amateur actors, as “community players” have understanding my toleration of the “extreme” views of Evil Orange President. I don’t blame either group. I am an outlier almost everywhere I go. But as an actor… Well, it’s a good thing I’m so talented. Otherwise, this cadre of (generally) the leftiest, paisliest, patchouliest bunch of spiritual statists you could ever dread to encounter, wouldn’t have put up with my anarcho-materialist blasphemies.

Caged Rats

2 November 2020  

Caged rats were used in studies to determine the efficacy and appeal of cocaine to a captive audience.  Subjects were confined and given a choice between instant gratification, or food, water, and isolation.  They tended to hit that cocaine bar until they died of exhaustion, dehydration, and/or starvation.  This “proved” (to some minds) that cocaine is much more powerful than food or water.

But these tests were conducted in rat prison, and not in rat skate park or rat retirement village or rat discotheque.  The rats’ choices were too severely constrained to give meaningful results about what a mind might choose given a variety of options.  The results don’t reveal anything meaningful about cocaine, but much about despair and loneliness.  It’s kinda like trying to divine the sexual preferences of young men by studying prisoners.  Somehow, NONE of them seem to select benign, wholesome, or enriching relationships of respect and mutual regard, but tend instead to confine their acts to celibacy, masturbation, or random rape in the showers. 

So what’s killing those rats, then, if it’s not cocaine?  They’re not choosing cocaine over food, fellowship, and freedom.  They’re choosing palliation over purposelessness.  Am I one of those rats?  Not quite.  I haven’t been captured and caged, per se.  My “isolation” is mainly voluntary.  I found it preferable to the prospect of eight hours of uninterrupted vertical waterboarding.  Unfortunately, and probably too late, I find that I do miss many of the social aspects of the job, in spite of the many much more annoying social and logistical aspects of any job.  I miss the good parts of the job as much as I miss the fellowship of my church (whether that’s my golf club, or my political party, or my local library, or amateur theatre, or even supernatural cult rituals.)  Many of the social and cultural phenomena that help to transform existence into living are now missing.

Dull Disclosure

2 December 2020

correspondent JP asks: Hey, is your name pronounced “Jean Grey®“?
Are you an X-Man and just not telling us?

That is the correct pronunciation, and while Stan and Jack tagged their issue “Jean” in 1963, my creators tagged me with “Gene” in 1956. Is it a happy coincidence? Not as much as I’d like. There ARE red pigments in my hair, but my telekinesis remains undeveloped, and my entrance into a room does NOT excite adolescent boys (nor adolescent middle-aged men who ride in wheelchairs).

featured graphic,
Jean (“Marvel Girl®”) Grey
Created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby
claimed de jure by Das MausenKorp®

The Chain Cent

20 November 2020

One of the earliest productions of the U.S.Mint, the “Chain Cent” would set you back several pretty pennies if you wanted to score one for yourself.  It enjoyed a relatively brief tenure among US coinage, less than a year, particularly as compared to our present Lincoln Cent’s century of endurance. 

Legend has it that many objected to the chain because it evokes chattel slavery.  That’s a plausible argument, but I doubt it was the prime cause.  While slavery was thought to be immoral and repugnant by many in the Eighteenth Century, such folk were in fact a minority, and often considered to be unfit for polite society.  Slavery was still the living heritage of history, sanctioned by faith and tradition and the natural human desire to not want to be seen as rocking the boat. 

Another obvious evocation of chains is political bondage, and many found that antithetical to still recent revolutionary and secessionist sentiments.  Whatever the whole truth may be, now obscured by centuries, the design never saw another year. 

And that was fitting.

The chain, intended to represent “indivisibility,” was never supported by the literal confederate language of the Constitution, and is, in fact, undermined by the Tenth Amendment (and by ratification language from various State legislatures). It certainly is a cool specimen, but as a matter of policy for the official mint of what Mr Lincoln USED TO call The Grand Confederacy, the chain had to go.

Deep State Suppression, Excessive Snivelry

“…. if it weren’t for Negan, we’d just have anarchy!”

29 November 2019“Lefty Moms” Please try to conceal your deep misandry from your young sons. “Mommy hates men” equals “Mommy hates me” which often equals “I hate me” which leads to young men poisoning themselves with pube-blockers, murdering their classmates, or mutilating themselves.

2 December 2019Anti-Semitism is abhorrent, revolting, stupid, and the natural consequence of demographics and human nature.
First, people conflate.  They attribute the characteristics of the sole example to the group.  Suppose my Granny were raped by a Romulan.  Should I assume therefore that all Romulans are rapists?  Bigots are eager to conflate.
Second, dumb people hate smart people.  “Don’t you get smart with me!  I will slap that smart mouth right off your face!”  Or murder your entire tribe.  It’s along that same continuum (albeit a little extreme) of resentment and revulsion for light, clarity, and coherence.
Finally, Jews (on average) are smarter than everybody else.  Therefore, dumb people, who are the majority, hate Jews the most.  And they conflate, so they like to pretend it’s because the Jews killed the Christ.

reposted from WorkkSeitt discourse, 24 May 2020Memorial Day is a painful reminder of the heavy personal cost of the Occupation’s aggressive and destructive foreign policy.  I mourn the victims who have died to enrich the Military Industrial Complex.  Pax, Peace, Salaam, and Shalom! correspondent AG writesMemorial Day is a bad day for me.  All my battle buddies I have lost thank you.

30 May 2020 — Can we expect Madeleine (“Worth it”) Albright to endorse Jo Jorgensen’s vagina for the Presidency as she did Hillary (“Lady MacBubba“) Clinton’s in 2016?  (And maybe, albeit quietly, Governor Palin’s pudendum in 2008?) Or is she resigned to spending an eternity in that special Circle of Hell, to which she referred in 2016, that is reserved for those vaginal voters who will not support female candidates?  update 200822: Unless Madame Secretary is already resigned to spending an eternity in hell for her murder of thousands of children?

2 June 2020  — With his threats to “Send in the Military” to various riot zones throughout the Union, sans invitations from the States, Donald Trump risks going from perhaps the least bad President since Jimmy Carter to maybe the worst since Abe Lincoln. update 200622: If he doesn’t stop killing Yemeni children soon, I may have to fall back from my present assessment to “least bad since Reagan.” I dread his contesting the Bushbamatons for bloodthirst.

13 June 2020  — For being such a pointless and meaningless expression, “Defund the Police” is unnecessarily potent and provocative in many quarters, and lends itself to the most outlandish nihilistic scenarios.   
But what does it mean?  I’m all for defunding Narco and Vice and no knock raids and BATFire and Zoning and, well… basically anything that gets in the face of peaceful people going about their own business.  Otherwise, as long as bad people keep trying to hurt the innocent, we’re going to want some kind of insurance against injury.  In a free market, GetLife and TheHardCorps will find it’s more profitable to protect their clients than to pay them off, and no one will find it profitable to beat up pot heads and prostitutes.

“Heroic Art” (15 August 2020) If it’s a contest then the Soviets have been the reigning champs for decades. The Nazis were also good, as well as our own FedGov. Collectivist propaganda in general is the best! The practice is horrific, of course, but the artwork is magnificent. I guess it works that way in most media. Janis Ian’s compositions were much better (she’s still great!) before she realized she was a lesbian and decided to stop torturing herself. As a not yet professional novelist I have to wonder. Am I prepared to suffer enough to actually be any good at what I do?

8 November 2020  — To Republicans whining about “Suppression Polls” discouraging you from voting: Fuck you very much. I’ve been voting for Losertarians since 1976, and not a single poll suggested that my candidate would win. It did not stop me from voting anyway because, one, I’m not a Demoblican wimp, and, two, I never voted to impress pollsters anyway. Nor am I about to waste any sympathy on anyone who would let notorious liars dictate his choices. Maybe you lost. Maybe they cheated. Focus on those details but spare us the whining about alleged “suppression” before the fact. Libertutionists and Constitarians have [taken it up the ass] too long to [cry over your butthurt].

The Tax Bite

31 March 2002

Federal, state, and local taxes, combined with our efforts to comply with them or to avoid them account for the wasting of fully half of our productive capacity. To release our full creative potential we must lift the crushing burden of the state from the engine of prosperity. A Libertarian Congress will eliminate the federal income tax. Present Federal claims of real property are more than enough to buy our way out of what may well be an awkward transition as the Federal Welfare State is dismantled and the Federal Debt is resolved. Some Libertarians make the argument, and it is not without merit, that the Federal Government had no legitimate claim to the vast West that it administers (or mismanages), and that these lands are properly already the property of the people or the states. However, I think the issue of Federal assets is one worth exploring, and may well provide us with the means to retire the Federal debt without the prospect of default, dislocation, or widespread social violence. When the jig is up, and people see that not only is the emperor naked, but his promised feast has already been eaten by previous congresses, I fear that many disaffected people will respond with violence rather than forbearance.

Republicans talk a fair free-trade position, but when it comes down to it, they’re all too happy to raise tariffs to protect their contributors. Welfare for the wealthy is just as destructive of the free market as withholding income taxes from workers’ paychecks. Democrats talk a great deal about compassion, but they’re always ready to raise taxes to support their pet lobbyists. Millions of families are supported by two wage-earners. One works to pay the mortgage, buy the groceries, and put braces on the children’s teeth. The other works to pay Uncle Ben and Uncle Sam. America doesn’t need more “free” goodies from the federal trough. We certainly don’t need subsidized child-care. We need real tax cuts so that Ward can stay home and take care of Wally and the Beaver while June goes to the office. Or vice versa.

update 180304: It would be remiss not to mention that additional peoples‘ property claims (both in the islands, and throughout the States) continue to manifest. The Lakota Republic, for example, and their Silver Bank, are securing their local and native interests against an uncertain future, while elsewhere other secessionist movements, from Cascadia to The Coral Republic, plan for their post-united States.
Uncle Ben” is Benjamin Cayatano, Governor of the State of Hawaii in 2002, and the hero of creepy old men throughout the islands when he vetoed the legislatures’ raising the legal age of consent from fourteen to sixteen. Said heroism was thwarted when the legislature overrode his veto with their super-majority. The general infantilization of Western Civilization continues today as talk is bandied about over raising the minimum age to purchase certain scary looking guns to twenty-one years.
Aaaaand El Donaldo continues to demonstrate his fealty to mercantilist mythology. Republicans, meanwhile, cling to their traditional bad economics and base social appeal. Fremont’s Folly may have come full circle. New tariffs and nativist retrenchment echo the Proto-Republican Know-Nothings of the Nineteenth Century.
At this point, powdered Whigs wouldn’t surprise me.

These comments are sponsored by The Confederate Mint (purveyors of metallic securities in gold, silver, copper, and lead).  For sample sheets of Metallic Certificates (total face value One Tenth Silver Dollar) send One Silver Dime plus a self-addressed stamped envelope; or Four United States Legal Tender Federal Reserve “Dollars” in scrip, check, or money order, to Greigh Area Associates, c/o Gene Greigh //  401 Rio Concho Drive, #105;  San Angelo, Texas;  76903

“There Are No Innocent Third Parties”

27 July 2020  

This may be the favorite refrain of mass-murderers, spoiled children, and statesmen.  (Although “he made me” is a serious contender.)

When the U.S. government destroyed Iraq’s infrastructure, and placed an embargo over her skies and shores, hundreds of thousands of Iraqi’s died of malnutrition and/or other hygienic complications.  “Worth it,” according to Madeleine Albright.  Naturally, well-intentioned Wahabists had no choice but to fly airplanes into the World Trade Towers, thereby killing thousands more.  Of course, they deserved to die, because “there are no innocent third parties.”

When Timothy McVey took down the Murrah Building in Oklahoma City, hundreds died.  Not to worry, it was a federal building, full of collaborators, and there are no innocent third parties.

When the Cavalry cleaned out the savages at Sand Creek and Wounded Knee, they were doing the Lord’s work.  These animals were in the way of Manifest Destiny.  Besides, nits grow into lice, and there are no innocent third parties.

When Sergeant Bales decided to go hunting Afghans, he ran afoul of the Uniform Code of Military Justice.  Why?  They were ragheads, weren’t they?  Hadn’t they defied their liberators? Aren’t there no innocent third parties?

When General Sherman bombed Solomon Luckie’s barber shop in downtown Atlanta, it didn’t trouble his conscience at all.  By cutting the hair of soldiers and engineers and grocers, Luckie was contributing to the Confederate Economy, and there are no innocent third parties.

When a Blue Knee crushed the life out of a Brown Neck, ardent and committed activists had no choice but to batter journalists, harass motorists, and to burn down convenience stores*, because there are no innocent third parties.

(* Also Korean barbecues, Jewish delis, Gay bakeries, and Christian bookstores)

There are many ways to say, “there are no innocent third parties.”  Popular options run the spectrum from “let’s beat up the haole kid” to “nuke ‘em all and let Allah sort ‘em out.”

update 200822:  Freely associating Robert Bales to Nidal Hassan to Chris Kyle to Edward Snowden, I am moved to point out that all four were committed activists who took matters into their own hands.  Personally, I think Bales and Hassan should stretch ropes, or be securely indentured to the families of their victims, I’m not sure.  I’m surer about Kyle and Snowden, and much clearer on their differences:  One was a hero who risked his life to protect the rights of all Americans, the other one shot strangers from a safe distance.

These comments are sponsored by The Confederate Mint (purveyors of metallic securities in gold, silver, copper, and lead).  For sample sheets of Metallic Certificates (total face value One Tenth Silver Dollar) send One Silver Dime plus a self-addressed stamped envelope; or Four United States Legal Tender Federal Reserve “Dollars” in scrip, check, or money order, to Greigh Area Associates, c/o Gene Greigh //  401 Rio Concho Drive, #105;  San Angelo, Texas;  76903

Innocent Backstanders

3 October 2020  

Chris Wallace plays a journalist on TV.  He feigns objectivity as he loads his “questions” with assumptions and accusations and demands that any opponents to the Deep State pledge to stop beating their wives and cheating on their taxes.

How I remember it (paraphrased):

CWWill you condemn far right violence?
DT:  Sure.
CW:  I’m not taking “yes” for an answer.  When will you tell your violent alt-right white supremacist supporters that behavior like Charlottesville is unacceptable?
DT:  Who do you want me to denounce?  Give me a name.
JB (quietly):  Proud Boys?
CW:  Will you tell them to stand down?
DT:  Sure.  Stand back and stand by, but the real problem is with the radical left and antiFA and –
CW:  Moving on…

Chris is clearly in on it, knowing that a hypervigilant response to one threat necessitates neglecting other (sometimes more pressing) problems.  Violence is okeh as long as it serves the needs of the Deep State, and honest journalism is also acceptable, as long as it serves the needs of propaganda.  Otherwise, inconvenient facts are to be dismissed.  Like Mr Trump’s often repeated, generally neglected, and long forgotten condemnations of racist supremacism.  (“Good people on both sides” explicitly referenced those who would contest the suitability of historical monuments in public spaces, and not Nazis versus Commies.)

Here’s another inconvenient fact that was missed or dismissed by both the Deep State’s handmaiden and Kamala’s stalking horse:  The Proud Boys are a pan-racial organization of dudes who like the idea of feminine women, masculine men, and Western Civilization, and are generally disinclined to apologize for their testicles.  Also hanging out with other dudes who feel the same way.  Mainly, they’re educated frat boys.  They may not back down, but their policy is to not START the fight.  Proud Boys’ spokesmodel Enrique Tarrio might be surprised to learn that he is a white supremacist, but maybe not.  After all, distorting the truth is the Deep State’s specialty, and Chris and Joe are both obedient subalterns.

update 201004:
I suppose I should cross reference this file to Bad Poetry now.

Hickory Sticks Lie Handy
(meter stolen from Ragni, Rado, & MacDermot)

(Bubble Gum verses)

Proud Boys are auspicious, cutting edge of fun!
Take a stand for manhood!
Protect the neighborhood good!
Bodycheck antiFA ’fore they burn us down!

It’s a time of trials, and liberty retreats.
Society’s gone crazy, their reasoning’s all hazy
Because they dance in rhythm to a socialistic beat!

“Proud Boys are atrocious, neo-Nazi scum!”
“They terrorize the townsfolk!”
“They’re only here to provoke!”
At least that’s what they tell us on the lame TeeVee!

Red and Black and White and Brown and Proud Boys!

(Mo’Town verses)

Proud Boys stand for reason, Proud Boys hold the line,
‘fyou just wish to voice your protest, the Proud Boys say, “That’s fine!”
But if you’re… here for trouble, they’ll step up…. on the double.
You get a chance to walk away, and if you don’t you’ll rue that day!

‘cause Proud Boys handle biz’ness, Proud Boys don’t take shit.
If you hassle Proud Boys’ comrades, expect a busted lip!
Oh the left wing… they call ‘em racist, or neo-crypto fascist!
But I think they’re all stand up boys, and I cannot resist!

Now mainly… they’re just frat boys, with advanced degrees,
Who’ve discerned that leftist thinking is cognitive disease!
Show me a proud, a strong, a righteous,
A smart and noble, courageous,  PROUD BOY…
proud boy… PROUD BOY… proud boy… PROUD BOY!
They’re here for us!