Lust Games / Void Games / Politics

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Canny. Streetwise. Salt of the earth. Too damned wise to get played, conned, used, abused …….. The lovers of the Punk.

Posted in Commentary, current events, dominance, News, opinion, Politics with tags Authoritarianism, Authority, Critical thinking, Democracy, Government, media, political commentary, politics, power on June 14, 2016 by B Schiff

Canny. Streetwise. Salt of the earth. Too damned wise to get played, conned, used, abused ………. The lovers of the Punk.

So the lovers of the Punk are not dumb and intellectually maligned ….. not vile and decrepit ….. not mimes with little or no critical abilities or desire to access reliable information or facts.

So the lovers of the Punk are true believers in the venality of all others and true believers in the great bile of the world around ….

So the lovers of the Punk are Hate the hates, love the loves, like the mob, like steel toed boots kind of hard chargers and true patriots.

So the lovers of the Punk really really really do believe that the middle finger of a sociopathic punk is a finger to be cherished and adored and trusted and warmed to.

So the lovers of the Punk are canny salt of the earth, street wise everyday core of “merica” heavyweights who can look the fleecer in the eye, feel contempt for a punk a mile a way, are far too street to fall for any con.

Mr Punk will never turn on me …….. Mr Punk will never turn on me ……. Mr Punk will never turn on me ……. I will never turn on Mr Punk …… I will never turn on Mr Punk …… I will never turn on Mr Punk …… Mr Punk will never turn on me ……. Mr Punk will never turn on me ……. Mr Punk will never turn on me ……. Oh please…. Oh please…. Oh please….

So the lovers of the Punk, never suckers, sell not their souls to a Punk shining a mirror back at ’em playing them and everyone else in the well trod path to power, pain, manipulation, intimidation, retribution.

Canny. Streetwise. Salt of the earth. Too damned wise to get played, conned, used, abused.

The lovers of the Punk.

Dominance Games…..politics, news, commentary, analysis…. The dumb …… the honored creed. The rancid bastards …… the true…. the thrill…http://dominancegamespolitics.com/

Facebook ….. https://www.facebook.com/pages/Dominance-Games-Politics/367557053280536

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To stare down

To stare down

Let’s stand firm and strong and true with our backs straight and our honor pure and our hearts of lions ready to sacrifice to make our presence secure, our gaze stern, our aim true, our demeanor grave.

Let’s stand firm and strong and true with our backs straight and our honor pure and our hearts of lions ready to make our word of value, our fellows safe, our will to protect and to serve, our purpose moral.

Let’s stand firm and strong and true with our backs straight and our honor pure and our hearts of lions ready to bend evil, diminish ignorance, slam intimidation. burn venality, sink hatred, upend killers, break cons, fabricators and authoritarians.

Let’s stand firm and strong and true with our backs straight and our honor pure and our hearts of lions ready to be the last best iron defense of dignity and pride.

Let us be good.

Dominance Games…..politics, news, commentary, analysis…. The dumb …… the honored creed. The rancid bastards …… the true…. the thrill…http://dominancegamespolitics.com/

Facebook ….. https://www.facebook.com/pages/Dominance-Games-Politics/367557053280536

books… http://bschiff.com/

Jobs may come and go as a sop to circumstance. Power flows in the directions it is sent

Posted in Commentary, current events, dominance, labor, News, opinion, political science, Politics, Uncategorized with tags Authority, Caste, Democracy, Government, labor, political commentary, political satire, power, Underclass on September 2, 2013 by B Schiff

Jobs may come and go as a sop to circumstance. Power flows in the directions it is sent

Unions are wonderful. Except that they are pigs. So says the red white and blue. So says the victims of their pig-hood. All power players overplay their hands. All power players take too much trust for granted and they lose it when they can’t enforce it. Sell the good. Address the fears. Don’t push one rotten master for another. The losers need a good power base … not a jack boot.

Selfish is as selfish does. Buying stability with rational fairness is a hard sell for those who see no benefits to themselves or their own by helping bastards who can’t help themselves and who don’t have the goods to blackmail the populous with no jobs or jobs on our terms …. a happy equation that the free independent minded American seems overjoyed to accept.

The key is the protection from the underclass or the forces of the underclass. Weapons are good for that. The underclass is the dangerous class. In the proper caste system the underclass is under the heel. They get out on Our terms if at all. They serve, give up their bodies, their labor, thank their lords and masters for the chances given for survival. With great wealth and power comes great wealth and power. Few give that up easily.

Jobs may come and go as a sop to circumstance. Power flows in the directions it is sent.

Dominance Games…..politics, news, commentary, analysis…. The dumb …… the honored creed. The rancid bastards …… the true…. the thrill…http://dominancegamespolitics.com/

books… http://bschiff.com/

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If you had any guts you’d wrap yourself in a flag and smother it in the breeze of redemption

Posted in Commentary, current events, dominance, News, opinion, political science, Politics, Uncategorized with tags Authoritarianism, Authority, Critical thinking, Gun Control, media, Oligarchy, political commentary, political satire, power on July 25, 2013 by B Schiff

If you had any guts you’d wrap yourself in a flag and smother it in the breeze of redemption

If you had any guts you’d hate more

If you had any guts you’d spit more

If you had any guts you’d foam at the mouth better

If you had any guts you’d bay at the moon with sweeter voice

If you had any guts you’d love the sport of lynching

If you had any guts you’d smack down the weak, infirm and destitute worthless more

If you had any guts you’d afflict the comfortable never and sneer at the thought

If you had any guts you’d comfort the afflicted with rat poison and sharp knives … good sport

If you had any guts you’d champion the need for a permanent class of untouchables and peons

If you had any guts you’d work harder to be bought and sold …. to buy and sell

If you had any guts you’d be the proud prancer of shrouded justice

If you had any guts you’d break, own, dismantle and despise with much more vigor

If you had any guts you’d wrap yourself in a flag and smother it in the breeze of redemption

Dominance Games…..politics, news, commentary, analysis…. The dumb …… the honored creed. The rancid bastards …… the true…. the thrill…http://dominancegamespolitics.com/

books… http://bschiff.com/

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Not there. Never there. Not here. Never here.

Posted in Commentary, current events, dominance, Fascism, News, opinion, political science, Politics with tags Authoritarianism, Authority, Critical thinking, Democracy, media, political commentary, political satire, power on July 11, 2013 by B Schiff

Not there. Never there. Not here. Never here.

The age of ideology has come and gone. Communism. Fascism. The world had endured a century of flying fun fighting the scopes and loves of isms, strength, authoritarianism, absolutism, the ideas such forms held high and pristine and represented so fiercely, so well.

Religious supremacy was of the ages dark and the civilizations weak. Clamps upon the minds of men were now the devils tools of a once and past primitive era of days gone by. Worlds at war. Minds at unease, beaten to pulp. Civilizations on the march. Bravely.

Good, decent folk in lock step with their masters. Come the secular …. a way out of war and strife and blood feud and holy rollers. A way ringed and reigned in triumph and light … paths from the Renaissance, the Enlightenment, the Declarations of advanced humanity.

Blood shed forever and ever. Pious ramrods dying for the good ideals of totality, God and tribe and the good of the ideals of worship …. for now and then and ever and ever. Sweet, lovely, beckoning authoritarianism never goes away …. its attractions too pure … its victors winning their own private heavens, their own private hells.

There the others go. There the others march. Not there. Never there.

Not here. Never here.

Dominance Games…..politics, news, commentary, analysis…. The dumb …… the honored creed. The rancid bastards …… the true…. the thrill…http://dominancegamespolitics.com/

books… http://bschiff.com/

refer

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/39291

Dominance Games: An Essay on Power A Novel …. Installment 2

Posted in books, dominance, Drama, fiction, literature, Mystery, political drama, political fiction, political novels, political science, Politics, Uncategorized, writing with tags Authoritarianism, Authority, Critical thinking, noir, political drama, politics noir, power on July 8, 2013 by B Schiff

Installment 2

Dominance Games: An Essay on Power

A Novel

There were foreign objects; there was pain. It was the 6th of fucking June.

On came Richard fucking Kenny and his fellow fucking brave hearts. On came God’s fucking crusade in some fucking death trap of a fucking landing craft in the fucking English fucking Channel just dying to help a bunch of fucked up, fuck assed fucking Frogs get their god damned, fucking fucked up fucking country back from some god damned, fucking fucked up fucking fuck assed crazy assed fucking goose assed stepping assed, fucking, rot in hell fucking Krauts.

Dreams for Richard fucking Kenny.

A putrid soldier’s dreams.

Richard fucking Kenny found himself with the first assault waves of American heroes climbing up the fucking beaches of fucking Normandy.

The young man next to Richard fucking Kenny on the fucking landing craft on the way to the fucking beach sang the praises of Christ the fucking Lord. The one next to him puked his fucking guts out. Richard fucking Kenny had not only come three thousand fucking miles to get his fucking ass blown off but he had to do it with some fucking idiot’s fucking puke all over his fucking gear and some other fucking idiot singing the fucking praises of Christ the fucking lord in his fucking ear.

Richard fucking Kenny was very fucking agitated, disgusted about the whole fucking thing. He was fucking annoyed. He would, he thought, have, at least, died a happier goddamned fucking death if he was sliced and diced by one of his old fucking playmates and left to bleed to death in some god damned fucking stink hole puddle in some god damned fucking stink hole alley behind some god damned fucking, rotten assed, fucking greasy spoon.

His god damned, fucking father, where ever the fuck he was must be turning over in his god damned, fucking grave at the thought of his only fucking son running around with a bunch of fucking red necked fucking bloody fucking American he-men about to fucking charge good old fucking Europe, from whence his god damned, fucking father ran, to play god damned, fucking wonder soldier, god damned brave fucking wonder fucking hero.

Kraut soldiers were without bitter appreciation.

Richard fucking Kenny hit the beach on the shores very early in the fucking morning.

The fucking Kraut soldiers did not want to lose precious ground. They wanted Richard fucking Kenny and his fucking friends to be fucking dead. They appreciated fucking greatness, not Richard fucking Kenny. Little fucking Addie Kraut was their mad fucking fool. He was strong.

A wonder fucking soldier, wearing his spiffy little super duper little fucking uniform and traveling fucking on, Richard fucking Kenny was a thrill a minute. Richard fucking Kenny was getting his fucking tail shot at pretty fucking good. This day was to Richard fucking Kenny was a particular pain in the ass.

Richard fucking Kenny in the middle of a fucking, stinking, dirty, fucking, fuck assed, fucking foxhole in the middle of the fucking, stinking, dirty, fucking fuck assed screw assed fucking war.

Richard fucking Kenny became a dirty, fucking hero, another fucking smart assed, wise assed fucking wise guy, wise assed fucking savior.

Two fucking throwbacks to some fucking simian past. Two fucking, anti-Semitic, anti-human, sub-human fucking throwbacks. Richard fucking Kenny killed seven fucking Krauts. Richard Kenny knocked off a fucking Kraut machine gun nest

Richard fucking Kenny barely stopped himself from killing the two fucking southern fucking fuck assed fucking throwbacks to some fucking simian past, the two fucking, anti-Semitic, anti-human, sub-human fucking southern throwbacks. He saved his fucking outfit.

The lieutenant who was barely fucking alive only by grace of God and the captain who was half dead were both fucking very fucking happy that Richard fucking Kenny didn’t kill all of their own fucking wonder soldiers. They were both exceptionally proud that Richard fucking Kenny was a member of their, this man’s, fucking Army. They were most certainly overwhelmed. Richard fucking Kenney was their great fucking hope.

Richard fucking Kenny was put upon the god damned fucking earth to do great things, to fuck rotten fucking ladies, to be sharp as a tack, twice as mean. He loved to save the lives of the fucking wonderful who would be very happy to hang his happy little fucking New York fucking assed neck from a god damned fucking cross when he was back in the god damned fucking fuck assed States. Richard fucking Kenny just wanted to jump up and down and salute the god damned fucking good old fucking red, white and fucking blue’s best fucking examples of fucking class.

* * * * * * * * * *

Richard fucking Kenny demeaned dangled leaden calves, gave up on dangled fucking leaden losers. He jack assed backward through the straights of hell. Sanguine, straight, Richard fucking Kenny jack assed backward through low dealers, low weasels, low wants, low fucking kills.

The All fucking American fucking boy was not something Richard fucking Kenny could put up with too much longer. Richard fucking Kenny reveled in his own fucking wonder. He was fucking proud that he had saved the lives of all of the fucking red necked fucking fuck assed fucking hicks. Richard fucking Kenny was tired, very, very tired, and he didn’t want the All fucking American fucking boy to wake up one fucking morning and turn on Richard fucking Kenny when Richard fucking Kenny wasn’t fucking looking

Many forms, many shapes the All fucking American fucking hero. He said many different fucking things. He was sure to turn into a no good fucking asshole sooner or later. Poor Richard fucking Kenny.

Richard fucking Kenny survived the fucking war.

He survived it. The first day, the first day off the fucking beach.

Richard fucking Kenny survived the second day, the second day off the fucking beach.

Richard fucking Kenny survived the third day.

Richard Kenny survived the fourth day.

Richard fucking Kenny survived the first fucking month off the fucking beach.

Richard fucking Kenny survived the first fucking year off the fucking beach.

Richard fucking Kenny survived the fucking war.

* * * * * * * * * *

Amy. Sweet, sweet, Amy. Amy Lucille to the young men and women of pride and honor. Amy Lucille to those who sought the glint in her radiant brown eyes shining brightly as she allowed company with the sons and daughters of manners and property. She, Amy Lucille, able to touch their hearts vigorously, in worship and adoration.

Amy. Sweet, sweet, Amy was that which could make life worth living, a shining beacon apart from all others of a peculiar conflagration of will, of a peculiar conflagration of mood, a treasure, Amy. Sweet, sweet, Amy. She wished to be the ideal to which all fine young dreamers might aspire, who did not let the pedestal upon which she found herself not allow her to not do what she must.

The giver of sunshine and shadow, the purveyor of pleasure and pain. The killer of mothers, the lovers of fathers, the seductress of aunts and uncles. The touch, the brush, the sweet, sweet kiss, the dear, sweet caress. Amy, sweet, sweet Amy. The nectars, the juices of sweet, sweet existence. How sweet, sweet Amy craved. How she craved. Sweet, sweet Amy.

Sweet, smart Amy. Amy, sweet, sweet Amy could only think of thighs and such and water her lips with the tip of her tongue. Amy. Sweet, sweet, Amy could only think of sighs and such and water her lips with the tip of her tongue. The sweet, sweet lovers of sweet, sweet Amy, sweetly, sweetly maimed, murdered, before sweet, sweet Amy could ever again enjoy their sweet, sweet pleasures.

The lures of those who fondled, the lures of those who craved, Amy, sweet, sweet Amy would live to crave a thousand lives. The sweet, sweet lovers of sweet, sweet Amy, sweetly, sweetly maimed, murdered, before sweet, sweet Amy could ever again enjoy their sweet, sweet pleasures.

She was the last best hope of daunting sin, Amy.

Some men died for love, Sweet Amy figured. Some men died for money, Sweet Amy figured. Some just wanted freedom from ghosts, dead spirits, evil, she figured. Some took the path of least resistance. Some, the last alternative to life.

Amy. Sweet, sweet, Amy.

She baited, she cooed, Amy. She laughed, she darted. She promised lusts with her lips, said goodbye with her hips, Amy. She was a gift given, Amy. Her lips inspired trust, her voice aching want, Amy. She drew hearts out as a magnet, Amy. She drew spirits with ferocious fire. The sweetness. The contempt.

Get to a strong man, a weak man, a smart man, Amy figured. Make a magic wand, Amy figured. A turn of the screw, she figured. A way in, a way out. Will to will, strength to strength. Strength to weakness, guile, subtlety. Amy knew the equations well. Worked them well.

* * * * * * * * * *

Memory is a sometimes wisp of smoke, a fog that traps those who wish to run with the fires and furies of the whirlwinds that spin dangerously amidst the cunning who understand the fragility of the soul and the meanness of the spirit. There are those deep and dear and those of substance and depth are often taken for granted and given rides to test the waters of eerie endeavor and feel the heat of vile creatures.

Characters that spring upon the hidden planes of existence, hidden planes of attack may be of an interesting kind, may be of a rancid, sinister kind and play in dominance, survival, and find themselves oriented to the mysteries of life with stories following around roots and edifices, movements through time and fate. Dreams and drama induce momentous rides and searing portraits of self and season.

My world is a wanton place with playthings in long spacious corridors angling in to slice and vanquish as they present their great homage to prosperity and glitter.

She was the last best hope of daunting sin, Amy.

She drew hearts out as a magnet, Amy.

She drew spirits with ferocious fire.

Purges were purges.

Amy screwed Death for eternity and Death took Amy as his own.

Amy screwed Death for eternity and Amy took as Death her own.

Somewhere in her passions she fused with fulfillment.

* * * * * * * * * *

Dominance Games…..politics, news, commentary, analysis…. The dumb …… the honored creed. The rancid bastards …… the true…. the thrill…http://dominancegamespolitics.com/

books… http://bschiff.com/

Books …… Dominance Games: An Essay on Power A Novel …….. Lust Games: An Essay on Honor A Novel ……… Void Games: An Essay on Revenge A novel ….

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/39730

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Screw those who think this a civilized world

Posted in Commentary, current events, dominance, Fascism, News, opinion, political science, Politics with tags Authority, Critical thinking, Democracy, Government, media, political commentary, political satire, power on June 24, 2013 by B Schiff

Screw those who think this a civilized world

Back when the world was young and foolish in its naive rebirth of humanism after the defeats of the great evil doers of WWII and the confrontations with the vast totalitarian evil empires of communism, fascism and the acceptance of self determination and progress on behalf of the poor and down trodden of the wayward world …… the paths to the futures of forever and a day seemed honest and clear and good and brave. Secular freedoms, law grounded in viable institutions and honest brokers with republican or democratic bents seemed the valuable ideal and an answer to the voids of human events.

Might not making right. The comforting of the afflicted and the afflicting of the comfortable. The balancing of powers within a society so that the messiahs of any hue or thugs of any stripe could not get a corner on the ways and means of death and taxes and freedom of movements and freedoms of thought and things dear and important. Too much for the rank and file to handle.

The assumption was that tribalism was a passing thing …. that potentates and dim bulbs with guns and hate and good rousing patter would be able to face opposition with guns and hate and good rousing patter within the sanctity of law and virtue, that an educated and enlightened world would embrace the age of Reason and that they would accept that the age of reason as a good thing worthy of use and reverence and reference and solace. No shows.

The balancing of the pristine powers of the rancid needs help. Laws need institutions that reflect the view of those who cannot hurt. Those who care not for the passions of a reasonable man lay the groundwork for those passions to be the monumental waste of time.

Whats mine is mine ….. my piece of the damned small pie and you are in the way. Whats mine is mine ….. I need less of you, more of me. Whats mine is mine ….. You need to be a cypher at my disposal, my heel upon your neck. Whats mine is mine ….. Your thought are impure, a pain in my ass, that which will get in the way of my wants and impulses. Screw those who think this a civilized world.

Dominance Games…..politics, news, commentary, analysis…. The dumb …… the honored creed. The rancid bastards …… the true…. the thrill…http://dominancegamespolitics.com/

books… http://bschiff.com/

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The poor little lefties and centrists don’t have the stomach for it

Posted in Commentary, current events, dominance, News, opinion, political science, Politics, satire, Uncategorized with tags Authoritarianism, Authority, Critical thinking, Democracy, Government, media, political analysis, political commentary, political satire, power on May 23, 2013 by B Schiff

The poor little lefties and centrists don’t have the stomach for it

Bullies go on the offensive and keep going, keep going, keep going.

Those prone to self righteous fervor and aggressive interpretations of the wonderfulness of their bared teeth and insipid bark go on the offensive and keep going, keep going, keep going.

Those who are sure to favor the weakening of the peons and their begging for bread go on the offensive and keep going, keep going, keep going.

Those who like to smack and run, scream and hiss, keep the show for the home crowd and the rabble and wave the flags of fists and marches go on the offensive and keep going, keep going, keep going.

Those who like to spit blood and brandish the fight for the fight is what it is about, the fight is the perennial weapon, go on the offensive and keep going, keep going, keep going.

Those who are mean of spirit and dead of heart and rotten to the core go on the offensive and keep going, keep going, keep going.

Those who don’t get smacked down and put in their place and made defensive and weak go on the offensive and keep going, keep going, keep going.

The poor little lefties and centrists don’t have the stomach for it.

Dominance Games / Politics…..politics, news, commentary, analysis…. The dumb …… the honored creed. The rancid bastards …… the true…. the thrill…http://dominancegamespolitics.com/

books… http://bschiff.com/

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The Loyal Opposition

Posted in Commentary, current events, dominance, Fascism, gun control, News, opinion, Politics, Uncategorized with tags Authoritarianism, Authority, Critical thinking, Democracy, Government, media, political analysis, political commentary, political satire, power on May 20, 2013 by B Schiff

The Loyal Opposition

They scare

Angry reactionaries with guns spouting time worn simplistic crowd pleasers appealing to the base natures of our existence. How lovely.

Angry reactionaries with guns spouting time worn simplistic crowd pleasers appealing to the dreams of mean haters who love the ideas of problem solving with the barrel of a gun or just a plain old beating to within an inch of one’s life. How droll.

Angry reactionaries with guns spouting time worn simplistic crowd pleasers appealing to the snarky dim wittedness of those who are self satisfied, self indulgent self aggrandizers who would diminish anyone with a rational thought or a brain that uses judgement. Spit.

Angry reactionaries with guns spouting time worn simplistic crowd pleasers appealing to the mob and the fascists among us to ruin democracy and eternally kick ass. Our future.

They scare.

Butch I am. Bang. Bang.

Butch I am.

Butch I’ll be.

Butch is that which makes me free.

Kill them all.

Knock ’em dead.

Time is mine.

I lay in bed.

I dream the dream.

I think the thought.

Tough as nails and in your face

My life is full of wisdom and grace

The suns comes up

The sun goes down

I am the one who brings the frown

Butch I am

Butch I’ll be

Puff and tough

I ain’t got nobody

Just the right to be butch

I’ll stare you down

Shout you down

Scare you down

Muscle you down

Wimp you out

I am the thriller, the killer, the beacon of might

You the road kill

Butch I am

Bang. Bang.

Only the strong hate right

Watch as the sneerers get sneered at and the bullies get bullied. Watch as the worm attempts to turn but cannot as the raging hormones of the true believers and ideologues fight the fight of whining, winning, killing, owning, breaking, burying

Killing for killing’s sake. Power for power’s sake. Breaking for breaking’s sake. Owning for owning’s sake. Stomping the devil for the sake of stomping the devil. Arms and the man. Swords and the woman. The ferocity and bared teeth. Fight for freedom. Freedom means mine ….protected by me. Good ole’ intimidation works. I bite. I kick. I rage. Democracy ain’t freedom. Week kneed accomodators and mealy mouthed chiselers. Like to force them to the ground. Eat dirt. Cry for mama. Feels good. Only the strong hate right.

Dominance Games / Politics…..politics, news, commentary, analysis…. The dumb …… the honored creed. The rancid bastards …… the true…. the thrill…http://dominancegamespolitics.com/

books… http://bschiff.com/

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