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Concept vs Visual Aesthetic

Journal Entry: Thu Mar 20, 2014, 5:33 AM
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Recently, on my piece Wired Flesh by torture-deviceI got into an interesting discussion that I find would be of importance to some of my watchers, despite the person being helpless in said discussion and just looking to waste their time.

Basically, I encountered yet another person who cannot grasp the difference between concept and visual aesthetic, and is quick to brand any widespread concept as similar to some popular piece of media that utilized such a concept.

I personally define visual aesthetic in concept art as series of image elements, art techniques and stylistic patterns that unify an array of objects in art into a single, wholesome, stand-out microcosm which is recognized by these elements. It's what allows us to relate a piece of art to a certain time period ("that's so 80's!"), a culture ("typically oriental stuff!") or movement ("absolutely baroque!").

A concept, on the other hand, is a concept – an idea made into flesh. The concept might have a definitive visual aesthetic, or it could be generic. Therefore, the concept is WHAT, and aesthetic is HOW.

However, many people seem to greatly mix the two, or mistake visual aesthetic for style and technique, which are components of the aesthetic, but not it’s contenders.

Here is what I mean under a visual aesthetic. I want you too look at these screenshots of very popular media, game and film, and get a hang of what I’m talking.

Since this blog entry was spurred by Deus Ex: Human Revolution, which I’m sure many of you played, let’s look at it first:

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The most glaring visual aesthetic motifs for DE:HR is the color pallete, which falls into black and yellow/gold/orange. Most of the interface is coded in those two colors. The light and bloom effects, that tinge the games "atmosphere" is in most environments, yellow as well. Such a strict color coding immediately sets a major visual aesthetic theme. Second thing – triangles. Triangles are repeated in most of the environment, deco and character designs, along with pronounced edges in environment and object design. While the exposition may vary, the triangles and angled surfaces find their way in most of the game. And lastly, another big visual aesthetic component of DE:HR – is a use of gloss and glow atop victorian-esque setups, which clashes modernity with classicism for a truly cyberpunk feel.

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Dead Space, and it’s subsequent iterations have a defined visual aesthetic as well. It doesn’t just go sci-fy – again, it creates a set of visual rules that all of the game’s elements follow, and as seen on this screenshot, the most evident rule is ribbing. Ribbing is repeated in nearly every non-necromorph object in the game, starting with Isaac Clarke’s s suit, and continuing on with Ishimura’s design, the environments, interface and object. What does that achieve? Unity of space and manufacturer. The Ishimura is feeling solid, made by one company, and existing in a real world.

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And the movie Oblivion, which is color-coded, and shape-coded as well. Most of the movie objects are stark white, including the protagonists suit, his hub, the drones and so on. The drones and the hero’s method of transportation share a similair, spherical contemporary design awfully reminiscent in its cleanness and simplicity Apple’s industrial design, and it manages to convey to the viewere that this is high-tech shit. It’s not just a single design, but a similair design theme running through the movie’s art production that once again ups the degree of believability.

The problem I have with a lot of modern concept art and modern art appreciators – when we’re talking about large industrial projects - is that they’re more focused on the concept, but don’t care much about upholding a unified, natural visual aesthetic.

In concept art this translates into the what I call "generic fantasy cancer", ie "everything and a sink, too!"

Why I call it generic fantasy cancer? Because most of the time, when making a fantasy concept, the artist doesn’t think about a wholesome visual aesthetic, but throws in everything in their visual library that’s about armor and medieval times. Since most of the time the visual libraries are not so big, it translates into a mish-mash of discordant and generic elements, as seen in this example:

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There’s no feeling of unification and believability. In art production, say, in games, the difference between simple concepting and creating a visual aesthetic, in my opinion, is most vividly seen in the Dragon Age series. While many people hate on Dragon Age 2, I hold it in much higher regard than the first installment, Dragon Age: Origins/Awakening, both in story – but most importantly, in art.

DA: O has absolutely unremarkable visual aesthetics, indiscernable from a myriad of other fantasy RPGs. What set this game apart of it’s competition, was a compelling role-playing experience, gameplay and story arch, as also a wide set of character customization options. But the game design seems ragtag, and feels like being done by different people in different places. From the beautifully stylized Orzammar (which I think of as one of the most successful visual languages found for a fantasy race) it drops to the pits of well, this:

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It’s an cutscene screenshot, demonstrating dark-spawn in all their generic, reptiloid glory with what looks like celtic knotwork patterning slapped for no reason on their generically spiky-toothy bad guy armor. The difference between character and environmental and even interface design, the disjointment of it that is demonstrated in DA: O, for me, at least takes away immersion in the game, my belief in it and the satisfaction of playing.

But with Dragon Age 2, the studio went another route, and created a whole new, standalone visual aesthetic and narrative to the game universe, which enabled to solidify its mythos, and present the game universe as something that is wholesome, and not a series of maps and battleground – a REAL place.

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Now, look at the dark-spawn design for DA 2 and compare it to the DA 2 design of the main character. Firstly, while it has the same concept (ie, undeadly looking bad-guy goon), the new dark-spawn is visually different from the predecessor, and yet, related to the main character. Certain elements keep them grounded in the same space, signify they share a same reality. But the studio went further. It created environments, interface elements, loading screens, maps:

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All with the same overall visual aesthetic, and that, in my opinion, was a great success. It was done through a specific color pallete, use of fonts, patterns and repeating uniform elements, while adding enough variety and sub-aesthetics to keep the thing lively.

That’s why I feel that it’s important to keep a unified, competent visual aesthetic in concept art. Unfortunately, that is largely depended on research, reference and a big inner visual library, which many artists don’t find necessary to develop or limit by not consuming enough media and art per se, because as seen in the abovementioned examples, the correct thing might be found anywhere in our lives – in architecture, in fine art, in historic pieces, in home appliances and etc. Not just in other media.

I constantly try to keep this in mind when I design characters, outfits and other objects. I try not to delve in disjointed ragtagness and keep the relationship between concept and aesthetic as organic as possible. Doesn’t work at times – maybe, but that’s not a detractor. Because I believe that a concept art’s impact lies 90% in solid visual aesthetic, and only 10% - in the concept on it’s own, and its just a matter of practice and determination to create you own either from scratch or through inspiration in your whole life experience of observing the world around/





Still alive

Journal Entry: Sun Mar 16, 2014, 4:16 AM
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Suffered through really nasty flu or something of the sort, creative juices will flow soon after full recuperation.

Ukraine must perish

Journal Entry: Tue Mar 4, 2014, 2:31 AM
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As a nationalist, a national-socialist and Russian patriot, I feel that I need to move in my 2 kopeikas about the situation in Ukraine.

I'll start off with denouncing the so-called "Right Sector", the Bandera, the "ukranian ultra-nationalists". They're not right-wing. They're not NS. They're not nationalists. They're nothing but ass-clowns and thugs covering under those names. And I'll tell you why.

No "ultra-nationalist" would turn the capital of their state, a city with a 2 thousand year history, into a smoldering trash-pit.

No "ultra-nationalist" would kill, mutilate, torture and humiliate their nation's military and betray it in the end.

No "ultra-nationalist" would seek help amongst the enemies of their state on the anti-national EU, inviting non-slavic military and threatening the integrity of their state.

I advise and warn all my fellow NS who might read this - DONT BUY INTO RIGHT-SECTORS RHETORIC! You don't know the history of Western Ukraine and Bandera! You have no idea what these people are!

But I'll tell you. The so-called "Western Ukranians" which now push for "independence" (that, might I point out, they had for 20+ years already), are not native to what is called Ukraine at all! They're mongrels, mix-breed mercenary and criminal trash that poured into the region back during Russian-Polish-Lituanian wars, with much Turkish admixture. They have no claims to Kiev, and everything to the East - these lands were historically RUSSIAN, and only in 1917 did Lenin, this piece of shit, hand it over to be an "independent" state. There was no real Ukrain before the 20th century, and no Ukranian nationalism, therefore, can exist in separation to Russian nationalism.

Now, the "western ukranians", the zapadenniki. I'll cause many hurt feelings to my watchers who Im sure probably belong to that category, but I must speak out. They are genetically bred traitors. They fought for Germans in WW2 - and betrayed them. They fought for Soviets in WW2 - and betrayed them. They fought for Chechens in Chechnya, killed and mutilated Russian soldiers.

Moreover, they have a deep-seated inferiority complex. Due to their nature as mongrels, they cannot decide what they are. They think they're the West, they try to prove they're not "slaves" but the West doesnt care about them, only the geopolitics. The Orange Revolution back in early 00s was made on this wave of pseudo-nationalism, but the westerners proved that they cannot build a viable, economically capable state without the help of Russia and the industrial, russian-populated Eastern Ukraine regions.

The only thing they can offer Western Europe, only thing they could EVER have offered, are worse plumbers than the Polish, and sluts.

These you call the new face of strong nation? This is the "example and pride for nationalists"? Jesus fuck, these people are WHORES, they'll change their colors in order to suit their interest in a zippy. For a second, consider this: the leader of these so-called right-wingers had been fighting amongst the Chechen terrorists in Russia, aiding in killing Russian federal troops. That's your nationalist Jesus? I myself am getting updates from aquaintances in Ukrain, that people FLEE because bandits come to their houses and threaten to kill them, if they don't move out. An ethnic war is brewing, but guess it doesnt matter when one side yells FREEDOMZ and DOWN WIT CORUPTION.

See, I place more emphasis on actions and real standing of a person, than the armbands and flags.

You can wear the same symbols as I do, espouse the same ideals as I do - but if you're against me and my people, if you wish my people harm, that shit doesnt matter - I will make sure to bury you. Any anti-russian "nationalist", "NS" or "fascist", is as much of an enemy to me, as a rabid antifa dog.

Oh? What's that, you say? "Right for self-determination"? Me being intellectually dishonest? No-no-no. Western Ukranians have all the right for self-determination. As do Eastern Ukranians, then. They all want to self-determine, but for some reason, only one side gets to? I'm all for the western khohols to move out of Kiev, announce Lvov the capital of some Nezalezhny Protectorate, and self-contain in the Western regions, and procede to whore themselves out to the highest bidder. And we take back the East, or leave it independent and free of Bandera thugs.

And of course, the western right-wingers have an insta-hard-on for this scum, just because they need to stick it to the "soviets" and our "imperial ambitions". This proves to solidify my recent realization that a pan-white resistance is absolutely utopic. I'm all for personal growth. And I grew up during the last years. Coming to a clear understanding that white Anglo-Saxon world should perish or be forced into splintering as we have back in the 90s. The greatest danger to my people now, it seems, are the US and UK right, not even the gay-mongering, feminazi multicult western libs. No, it's the right, that thinks that Brittania still rules the sea (say Allah Akbar to the millions of muslims, britfags), the McCainist american Tea-partiers - all as ignorant, russophobic and dishonest as a jewish democrat.

One second they yell "Russia is the white race's saviour!", but the second you poke a self-appointed khohol shithead they go "Only good ruskie is dead ruskie, shoulda bombed them back in 1940s along with japs".

So no. Shove your "white race" where the sun doesn't shine, sellouts. I wouldnt even sit to SHIT near a "Right Sector" Ukranian or any of the western "nationalists" that deny Russian ethnic or territorial interests. I'm loyal only to my blood, and my people, and my state.

But on the other hand, I should thank them. The villification of my nation and state had reached such ridiculous, despicable proportions, that it made us - and thankfully, even our not-so-competent government - totally indifferent and immune to the squeals of these pigs. We don't give a fuck. We didn't give a fuck during the Olympics, we didnt give a fuck in Georgia.

Why, really, should we? USA can attack sovereign states on ANOTHER continent, and we cant protect our people over the border? There is no legitimacy here, no international law in act - only the right of might, and right now, the might is OURS. Deal with it.

Crimea will seceede and be free. Eastern Ukraine will split off. We will help it. We will take back everything what's ours. What, trade blockade? Economic santions? Yo Europe, watch that gas faucet go shut. Stock market falls, so what? No one is panicking. This is historical justice, one helping of it, and the second spoon will arrive soon. This is real nationalism, when our blood and soil are not left for rats to feast on, but protected and uplifted.

So if you're for Ukranian "nationalism", but against Russian nationalism - go suck a dick, pigs. The butcher will arrive soon enough.

Hail Russia.

I have a dream

Journal Entry: Fri Feb 14, 2014, 4:59 AM
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I just had the best idea of a story-driven FPS vidyagaem.

The year is 2030. America has fallen and split into two independent states. Down south it's the AAU - the AfroAmerican Union, a shambled anclave run by blacks. It's in a constant state of war with Mexico, that had bit off the few of the former US states in the south, but no power can make a definite claim to the disputed land. All the northern states + Canada had transformed into United American Federation - run exclusively by women. Biogenetics finally allowed for human parthenogenesis, and all the male population was promptly displaced and deported, to be replaced for vat-grown fabricated women in all ranks and walks of life. The two states teeter on the edge of conflict, but a dark, sinister plot brews in UAF to use the resources of the AAU to support them in the expansion over the ocean.

So it's up to our team of heroes from Russia, Europe and China (yes, we'd want to be inclusive, no?) to infiltrate the enemy territory as a spec ops team and put the stop to the impending doom of all humanity!

It's gonna be a tactical FPS with switchable heroes - sort of like ME, but with a severly downplayed RPG element. Lotss of locations, types of warfare (including naval and aerial warfare)

I even have some monsters, weapons and bosses fleshed out. The Sherilla tank, the MuhDik-9000 cannon, twisted feminazi experimental bio-borgs like the RedHead Bitch and Dworkinstein, the sadistic UAF black ops "Privilege Checking Unit" and the AAU's misshapened, but numerous Thugbots made from scrap and chinese iPhone knockoffs.

That's gonna be nextgen gaming, ppl. Should I go to Kickstarter with this project, whaddya think?

Dope stuff

Journal Entry: Tue Feb 4, 2014, 5:53 AM
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What's up, friends and lurkers?

Shiet, so much stuff happening. Ukranians going all crazy (always knew they were the retarded brothers in the family) over not getting on their knees for EU to buttfuck them, we getting our first legit school shooter, Samsung possibly unveiling the Galaxy S5 with retinal scanner on WMC! Fuck-ass February is upon us, so I'm personally stashing on cold medicine and headache pills.

Winter this year was LAME. There was zero to none snow, freezing temps at a point, and therefore, I can't enjoy skiing as I used to. Too little snow, and too cold (or warm). Had a chance of going to the Sochi Olympics games, but declined - Olympics are sorta lame. Yeah, I know, show and event of such a scale, but whatever. Can't leave my job in the hands of less competent coworkers.

The beginning of the year started slow for me, buuuut, I'm already kicking into second gear! I'm going further down in perfecting my skills, and if most 2013 felt a bit stagnant from me, in terms of artistic growth, 2014 looks swell. I got more busy, and that drives me to achieve better visuals with less time and effort. And dunno about you, I think it works! So I'm pretty excited.

I'm also marvelling at a new-found ability to create personal stuff and get inspired by sources other than Warhammer. Only now I realized how much of my creativity was sucked towards that outlet at the loss of others. And I'm overwhelmed at the amount of positive feedback at my horror and Cyberpunk stuff that I've been uploading lately! Glad that some people lived through that change and came to support my new pieces.

So, the main point is this - my new IP project is up and running. It's a novel, a chunk of which I'll post on various fiction sites, and maybe dA. It's realistic, short-range cyberpunk (title still pending), and the story itself will be accompanied, for the continuation of the year, with concept art, illustrations and etc. I'm fairly certain that my skill will match the vision, and the vision will drive the skill, as a result.

Also, I'm on the last stage of conceptualizing a horror-sci videogame setting.

So, guess that's the most of it. Have a "distored"-style Torturer as a consolation for the unapologetic optimism of this blawg)

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Hollywood 2024

Journal Entry: Sat Jan 18, 2014, 10:43 AM
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"So, Mr. Twumbly, you know why you’re here?"

John Twumbly was nervous. He clutched his tablet close to him, glancing over the gathered members of the review association. There was four of them – three women, one man. The three women looked distinctly non-white, while the man was white, but clearly gay – the feather boa gave it away immediately, and John mentally cringed at himself that he noticed it.

"Yeah. Well, I think I do. This is the National Media Review Association for Forwarding Appreciative Perspectives?"

The black woman checked something on her tablet, and then rose an eyebrow over her Glass, staring right at Twumbly. Her double chin bobbed up and down affirmatively.

"Yes. You’ve submitted a screenplay to Mr. Schielburg’s new IMAX project, and as per routine, we have checked it, as Mr. Schielburg, according to the studio, is planning to go along with it and you were hired in the film crew. That’s correct?"

"Quite so".

"Uhuh. So, if the summary is right, it’s about aliens attacking Earth and a group of ordinary civilians awaken their dormant supernatural powers to fight off the invaders?"

John tried to beam up.

"That’s the jist of it".

"Well, not really", The redhead asian-looking women pipped in. "Your screenplay did rise a few red flags with the NMRA FAP, hence why we want to spend this time to work out the problems?

"Shit".

"What problems?"

"Let’s see, the first is obviously the cast", the black board member snapped. "You don’t describe the physical attributes of the characters well, but judging by you, it’s a matter of utmost concern. Equal representation"

"It was for the casting director to deci-?"

"No. It has to be physically written out. We recommend full diversity", the hispanic review board member cut him off. "We don’t want to find out in the midst of the movie’s production that Mr. Schielburg, all due respect to him, smuggled in white actors".

"He can keep the scientist villains as white, tho?" her colleage argued.

"I think he can... He can make them Iranian. Or Russian."

"Iranian would be islamophobic, dear".

"But, m’am, eh... Lucy, the photographer? I kinda did write that she has amazing blue eyes, it’s relevant to the plot, but that should mean that-" Twumbly struggled to get a word.

The black member’s tone dropped to a dangerous low rasp.

"Mean what? That the FX team can spend some budget on contact lenses?"

"Yes... That".

"Good", The gay board member took the lead, flipping through pages on his tablet. "Now, very important. Your cast is roughly 50 percent male, 50 percent female. You’ll have to change a few characters to female. We can’t have so much screen time devoted to male figures".

"But I was following the equality rule guideline?"

"Mr. Twumbly, your male characters are already overwhelming in the action scenes, which we will also discuss further, it’s actively taking of power away from the female half and erasing their identity in the human collective. We recommend an 80 to 20 partition, and when I say recommend, you realize what it means?"

"I... I do."

"Them, the female cast will be expanded, as will their roles in the story. They should be independent and strong, with their actions emphasizing that outstanding femininity. What I want to know, Mr. Twumbly, is why your dialogue is so shallow?"

"It’s an action flick, I’m sure a lot of words ain’t necessary".

"Like hell it is",  the Latina squinted her eyes. "You’re to have at least 30 minutes of immersive female on female dialogue, pertaining to various social problematics, and not containing mentions of men, in any motion picture running above 1 hour. We don’t see this included in your piece".

"Now, let’s discuss the powers. Jake Thorn’s – she’ll be Jessica Thorn from now on, Mr. Twumbly – has a power to throw ice spikes. That is disgustingly offensive. Vile, I'd even say".

"Sorry, how?"

"Natural that you don’t see it. First, spikes are phallic. They’re PENETRATING the enemy – that’s a trigger to rape victims everywhere. Totally unacceptable PIV-narrative. Second of all, it’s ICE. You know what ice is associated with?"

"Not really following you there, m’am. I was basing the power of natural elements and that..."

"With North and ergo, white people. So, Mr. Twumbly, you have a white-priviledged rapist power given to your character."

"No, it was natura-"

"Jessica Thorn will have an absorbing power. The power to absorb the damage men rain upon earth. No ice spikes. I’m thinking, maybe her vagina would suck in air and create a tornado?"

"Alright".

"The necessary LGBTQ scene is completely butchered, also. Mr. Twumbly, you are CIS, correct?"

John gulped loudly.

"Correct".

"Then, why didn’t you hire an LGBTQ-certified consultant, if you wish to include this scene in your screenplay?"

Twumbly gritted his teeth.

"First off, I was obliged to include it by the "LGBQT Character Act 8", and secondly-"

"It completely sexualizes the queer-identifying individualities", the gay board reviewer scoffed. "Offensive. You don’t even include a kiss, not a single genitalia shot, though, and that just stigmatizes the whole group. We will assign a consultant to you, Mr. Twumbly, as soon as we can".

"I personally have a problem with the whole piece. First off, this whole concept of "saving"... the Latina made air quote-marks with her fingers. "So patriarchial. Who said the earth needs saving from aliens? Why does the whole project emit this male-centric hero complex? Why don’t they try to get in touch with the aliens, and not fight them, in the common male expression of violence?"

"It’s an action film, Ms. Gomez".

"You’ve already said that. Maybe the aliens are in the right? Maybe they want to educate people, especially people like you, Mr. Twumbly. Maybe they seek to escape oppression on Earth, only to find it thriving here? Your screenplay is unacceptable in it’s theme, the whole idea that one needs to protect themselves from the "aliens". It’s absolutely bigoted. You may as well made "The Triumph of Will" here".

John didn’t know what to say by that point.

"The aliens are described as "blob-like, ooze-emitting creatures that remind the viewer of vicious-jellyfish". I dunno, Shawayquiesha, is that permittable? I have tingles that this is fatphobic and body-shaming?"

The black board member nodded solemnly.

"It absolutely is. I also have to point out, that there’s no evident POC culture being highlighted relevant to the plot".

"It’s about Earth uniting against an outside thread, I wanted to-"

"Mr. Twumbly, your characters would perform Native American and Kenyan hunter rituals to draw on their powers", the board member pressed on.

"And might I add, no guns or blood, Mr. Twumbly", the asian redhead added. "We can’t have victimized people triggered by any gratuitous display of human suffering. Or alien suffering, for that matter".

The black board member waved her hand dismissively at John.

"We understand that you, by your nature, do not have the refinement and experience to deal with such fragile topics and subjects, so the recommendations voiced here, and additional ones, are listed in the reviewed copy of your screenplay".

Twumbly’s head hung low.

"It will be a great, tolerance-inspiring piece about aliens educating humans on the wrongdoings of earthmen, as we see it – coupled with Mr. Schielburg’s talent, I see it as a box office hit. You may go, Mr. Twumbly, and we do expect the corrected version on our next meeting. Along with the diversity-offending fine for your first attempt".

And Twumbly did pay.

The Mobile Artist: a series of tech reviews

Journal Entry: Tue Nov 5, 2013, 1:09 PM
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Yes, it's the 21st century, and everyone's got an iPad. The hectic rhythm of modern life sweeps a person in a totally unneccessary storm of tweets, statues and instagrams, workplace seeps into your home through the abhorrent concept of BYOD (bring your own device), and you're an artist, stuck in the middle of it all.

You need a tool to utilize every precious moment to do your arting, and let's be honest – the comfort of sitting hours before a screen with your trusty Wacom Intous is not for everybody. Certainly not for the working man – maybe for a NEET or student, but not when you need to show off that fat KPI to your boss.

So, the realization hits you. You understand you need a portable artistic device for quick sketching, concepting and serious artistic chops when needed, on the go – and it better be a mobile computer too. You gotta forge steel when it's hot, and you think that with the overabundance of tech on the market, it's an easy feet to go and grab the lastest and greates there is.

Most likely an iPaaaa-.... ho, hold your goddamn horses right there.

You look at that lovely aluminum body, and you maybe even buy it – and then feel horribly cheated by artsy hipsters, because it doesn't have an active digitizer, and you're confined to an array of clunky crayon-shaped styli and child-like painting programs that would make Nintendo DS users reel in disgust.

The horror, the horror! Nothing to satisfy a power-user concept-artist of the mobile, smartass generation.

Never fear, though. I'm here to briefly, and more importantly – concisely – guide you through the wondrous world of productivity digitizer tablets. Or maybe not so wondrous, because the selection is limited and in most cases, severely handicapped.

But it's a guide you'll never read anywhere else. I never reviewed these devices before, though I have had hands-on experiences, so I'll be posting 1-2 short reviews a day for this week.

First off, there's a few important points to be made.

We'll be looking at 10"+ tablets ONLY. While smaller form-factors might seem handier, for any serious work you need screen real estate. So Samsung Galaxy Note 3, Tegra Note and Asus MemoPad fall off this race.

Secondly. Platform is important. Full-fledged Windows 8 machines allow for installation of your favorite PC art programs, like Photoshop and Painter – but, because most often then not, the hardware is tablet- or ultrabook-grade, don't expect stellar software performance from them. These programs usually require graphical horsepower and RAM chops from the system, aaand that's not the case with these devices. So you trade the possibility of installing these programs for the actual performance of the device.

On the other hand, with Android tablets, you'll have to stick to more exotic and undercut software like say, Autodesk Sketchbook and Infinity artist, but the lack of familiarity and complexity of such software is rewarded by higher hardware optimization. Sketchbook will run virtually on ANYTHING – and won't eat through your battery like a fat chick through a box of chicken wings.

Thirdly: There are currently two main active digitizers systems utilized by tablet vendors. Wacom – DUH, and N-trig. The latter was mostly dropped due to performance issues, and none of the models we'll be looking at utilize N-Trig. However, older devices, from late 2011 and early 2012 did opt for the N-trig, like Lenovo ThinkPad and HTC Flyer, so watch out for these.

So let's start with the elephant in the room.

The Wacom (Cintiq) Companion and Wacom Companion Hybrid


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Wacom, that had sold 5% of it's stock to Samsung, was late to the tablet race. A leader in digitizer tech, it took them long enough to move from the clunky Cintiq to something that is also a mobile computer. And everyone thought that being late to the game and so full of premium digitizer expertise meant that Wacom is going to change the market and bedazzle everyone with their devices.

It was meant to be messiah, over which female professional painters would not contain orgasms.

Eeeh, not really. I'd say that Companion is a flop, and a test of waters of sorts. A very rough product that undoubtely would find it's consumer in the professional art world, but that has so many stutters that keep them away from being an optimal solution.

The specs


So, what you need to know is that Wacom Companion comes in two distinct flavors. Windows 8 Pro and Android (Hybrid). They're both 13,3" slates, with a 1920 x 1080 Full HD IPS penabled screens, that allow for a 2048 level of pressure active digitizer setup, wrapped in a sturdy aluminum/plastic chassis, which speaks not of fashion, but ruggedness.

The Windows 8 version runs on a 3rd gen iCore i7 CPU that makes sweet love to it's beastly 8 Gbs of RAM, and offers 256 or 512 Gbs of SSD storage and 2 USB 3.0 ports

The Hybrid packs a Tegra 4 chip, 2 Gbs of Ram, and has two storage options – 16 or 32 Gbs, expandable with a microSDXC slot.

Both have Wifi/Bluetooth connectivity, rear and front-facing cameras (2MP and 8MP) and dedicated hardware buttons, Wacom's patented ExpressKeys system, that will be familiar to the Intuos family users. And of course, there's the pen, with changeable nubs and grips.

Both tablets, being built on the same chassis, also offer a kickstand to be used in desktop mode scenarios. Wacom Companion and Companion Hybrid also throw in a few apps, like Wacom Creative Canvas and such, for those who want their painting experience right out the box.

The hardware

So, how do these devices measure up to the hype of "It's a Wacom! It's a tablet! It's Superman!"?

First off, let's start with the screen. While the displays are of a commendable full HD resolution, the sharpness and density on a 13,3" inch screen doesn't seem as nearly as impressive when crammed into a standard 10-incher slate. While such a resolution is perfect on a notebook, which is meant to be used an arms length away from the user, the tablet form-factor implies that you cradle your darling closer to the face, and that shoves those gritty pixels right into your protesting retina.

While not so evident while watching movies or exploring pictures, the problem with the insufficient (by modern standard of the Retina displays, hailed by Apple) pixel density pops up when dealing with thin lineart and text, with blurring along the edges irritating to a pickier painter.

It also doesn't help that the panels themselves are not at the top of food chain. Sure, they're bright IPS screens, with good viewing angles, but they offer no truly vibrant color, or good sunlight visibility. Blacks look washed out, and yours truly found himself wishing for longer brightness bar than was present.

Wacom didn't offer information on brightness and contrast ratios of the displays on the Companions, and I hadn't performed RGB testing, but from a subjective standpoint, for the price-tag the vendor demands, the screens felt underwhelming.

The build quality is superb, though. The Companion's body design conveys functionality and professionalism, no gimmicky bells or whistles around – but it's not a tablet you're going to throw in your backpack heedlessly. It's size and weight commands respect, and the wide bezels around the screen seem to tell the unlooker: "we're not here for the looks, we're here for the job".

For some it might be a problem. The tablet is huge, the screen accentuated by the bezel, and it's no feather either. For those hoping to cozy it up with the Wacom Companion on the cough, leisuringly holding it like a fancy moleskin – nope, buddy. You're gonna use that kickstand desktop mode more than you think, and then wonder why you didn't buy Cintiq 13HD.

But maybe that's what Wacom opted for. Not a universally portable tablet, but an amalgam of a Cintiq and ultrabook, that only totes the possibility of being carried around. Also, since the device works with a clone of the Intuos pen, don't expect that fat fucker to have its own little hiding compartment in the tablet's body  - it's to be carried separately, and God help you not to loose it. Or it's nifty little case.

The performance

However, that's all talk. What we are interested in, is how it performs, right? How it draws out all those squiggly lines and color splotches?

Well, there's where the versions – the Windows and Android – start to differ. The feeling of the pen and the glassy screen I found to be geniuenly and brilliantly, Wacom. The pen is close to its Intuos sibling, has solid grip and amortized nubs. Nothing new there, just the solid, expected quality. For those who find the feel of slick glass uncomfortably while drawing, there's a sleigh of matte and grainy screen protectors.

Anyway. First things first – general experience with Windows 8 and it's tiles on Wacom Companion is comparable to the first Microsoft Surface. Even though the i7 CPU is a generation behind the cutting edge of Haswell chips, the 8 Gbs of RAM aided the Companion is smooth, and pleasant performance in most Office and browsing and playback tasks. But as for the actual painting, the experience felt rough and raw.

The Windows 8 version offered the freedom to upload the classic painting programs, but at what cost? The pre-installed Wacom bloatware and Artrage worked solidly, with minimal paint lag, the pressure sensors working through their tasks without a hiccup.

Then, Painter 12 and Photoshop took the center stage. And Wacom Companion lost it's sheen a bit.

Painter 12 crashed several times, but that's not the point. The worse thing is that the companies are a bit sly in their marketing.

The Companion's pen input did start lagging slightly in both of the "big" art programs, with ghosting sometimes quite evident. But it did so when there was a bigger canvas to work on and more complex brushes.

With simple brushes and 2000 pix canvases the lag was mostly in existent, but when the sizes climbed up, or brushes became more textured (this especially was obvious with Painters RealPaint brushes), the tablet began having troubles calculating it, despite the desktop-grade RAM. It also started to significantly heat up due to increased workload.

Zooming in became a bit choppy, and programs tended to loose some interface elements when minimzation happened.

While this issue isn't exactly serious – not everyone works with big canvases or complex brushes – it leaves an unwanted impression that the tablet isn't as omnipotent as it's marketed. It sets some sort of inner limitation, which isn't a good feeling when you decide to shell out $2000 on a professional tool.

Still, the experience of drawing directly on a such a big screen, is awesome. The pen is accurate, with little gap felt between the tip and the on-screen cursor, and I really liked the flow of it on the glass.

Now, what of the Companion Hybrid?

It's safe to say that it doesn't suffer from the software-related issues of the Windows 8 Companion – mostly though, due to the fact that there's no such software to overload a Tegra 4 CPU in Google's Play Market.

Autodesk Sketchbook Pro, my Android program for drawing of choice, worked smooth and nice, but the pen input, suprpisingly, felt more lethargic and less accurate as on the Windows 8 version, reminding me strongly of Samsung Ativ Smart PC tablet. While the software-hardware relationship on the Companion Hybrid felt more organic, it also subjectively felt slower, than on a normally performing Windows Companion.

The rest of Android antics, including homescreen flippings and handling of Angry Birds, worked through the Hybrid well and zippy.

But the solid performance of the Wacom slates were all underhanded by the battery issue.

Wacom didn't optimize energy use at-fucking-all. The Windows machine was the worst offender – with turned -on Wifi and fired-up Photoshop CS in the work, with occasional browsing, it squeezed out about 4 hours. Not a device you'd want to take for a workday in the office without a USB cable or a powerbank.

The Tegra 4 device fared better, clocking up to 5 and a half hours, but still a miserable cry away from the market leaders. Of course, it could be pointed out that that the huge 13" screens account for such results, but if Ultrabooks can do it, why not Wacom Companion.

For the Windows machine the answer is in following – the older chip. Wacom Companion could have benefited from the more efficient Intel chips, but the company came out with the device a tad too early. Patience is a virtue, and Wacom should've heeded that notion.

Another let-down – at least for me – is the lack of cellular connectivity that we've all come to expect from tablets.

The Good: Wacom Companion, both Windows and Android boast a seamless integration of their digitizer tech, a must-have for tablets. The size of the screen, couple for best-in-class, 2048-pressure level, accounts for a desirable artist tool, that now also double as a portable computer. Wacom Companion has a lot going for it – a Full HD screen, ability to upload professional artist software, finely crafted hardware and mostly solid performance in the artistic department. Think of it as a Cintiq in an iPad's skin. The Windows version allows for split-screen multitasking.

The Bad: The size and weight for this duo of tablets are not for everyone's taste. Despite the marketing, the potential buyer should realize that the Wacom Companion's portability is second to it's classic desktop display mode. The screen could have been better, both in colors and resolutiion. The performance in painting isn't bug-free, and has it's limitations – something not everyone would be ready to accept for the premium price Wacom is asking. Battery life is on the abysmal side, once again, it's not truly portable device. No 3G/4G connectivity – don't have WiFi, forget about livestreaming.

The Dough: I've already mentioned that the features and performances of the Wacom Companion's don't quite live up to it's pricing. Well, here it goes: $1.499 for the base version for the Android model, $1.899 for the Windows machine. Ouch.

Wrap up:

In these series, I will not advise or talk you out of your consumer choice. The Wacom Companion will find it's loyal follower, and it's in its own class of devices anyway.

The big, fat, Wacom computer class. I'm sure loyal fans of the brand and artists that hope for future polishing of the products firmware, would feel pleased with Wacom's first foray.

Let's hope it's not the last.

Do the evolution

Journal Entry: Mon Nov 4, 2013, 1:00 PM
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Ya know I've been pondering on this for a while, and I debated if I should make a whole journal about it, but once again I got some comment along the lines of "Omg, draw sum Imperial Dreadnought, TD!"

The decision is such, and Ive slowly moved in action towards it for the last months, but here it is - I'm moving away from general Warhammer art.

There's a lot to why. Firstly, let's be honest - I latched to WH40k art because the visual stylistics of it was easy for me to replicate, and it served me as a template on which I could develop my art. Nowadays, I feel that I have grown a lot as an artist, and now these aesthetics became boring and formulaic to me. I've become better, good enough to work on my own shit and don't grab an artistic crutch. I've become a good concept artist PERIOD, so I don't need this as my lifeblood.

Secondly: the fandom, I totally don't like it anymore. My older circle of friends mostly too had dropped it, people went on with their own thang, I with my own. And the common fans - sorry, you guys mostly just piss me off, with the aforementioned comments and general disposition. Warhammer 40k fans are nasty, not much better than bronies. And most of you ARE bronies, so go fuck a Space Marine horse or something.

Thirdly: I'm going back to my roots. Cyberpunk, novel fan-art, horror concepting. I have a lot of stories, ideas and themes to paint about, and which aren't confined by a fandom that now brings me mostly irritation. I can make good sci-fi horror, I can do gigeresque shit, I want to develop my own cyberpunk setting and so on. And I don't have all the time in the world for everything.

Fourthly: Which brings me to an important point. I will be still doing 40k stuff, but exclusively that pertaining to my own characters and set-ups. I've put a lot off effort into establishing them, and I'm not dropping it, no sir. That means Blood-Pact art (Blind and Co) stays. WarpHawks stay and expands - because it's so not "pure" 40k, I feel very invested in the project, so watch out for it. Torturer and the Slaaneshi antics stay, no question about it. And the Genestealers too. But, after I wrap up a couple of art trades, nothing general.

Fifthly: there's nothing dramatic about it, since I've stopped making general 40k shit sometime ago, mostly. But that's how it rolls, I guess. Stuff evolves, just wanted to say that.

Look out for better art and better stories)

Ex iphonis

Journal Entry: Thu Oct 24, 2013, 9:45 AM
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The other day I was reading an article, where some celebrity-type of person – and for the love of guns, can't remember who it was – started profusely gushing how culture is being buried under an avalanche of technology-inspired neurosis', how personal communication, art, deep thought and creativity is drowned in the electric hiss of our Facebook statuses. How the "real things" become unimportant.

The tone of the article was preacher-like and nauseous.  And even though I generally tended to follow the same thought process, something about it was off-putting, and I started to think about it in more focus.

And realized how this line of thinking is wrong.

The real problem is the human trait to think of the past in a far more idealized manner than we think about the present. It has to do with the way our brain functions, I guess – I'm no neuroscientist, but the information which I possess, points me to the fact that our mind cannot hold to the whole detailed picture of the past, but is powerful enough to process every minute detail and inconvenience in the present.

That's why we like the past. Because it's a photo that had been ran through every Photshop filter possible until there's just blurry shapes and that one thing that you really liked. Or hated. It's an ever-changing landscape of fantasy-land, filled with noble knights, and profound truths and solid morals and clear-cut values.

That's what the average man sees in the past. What the average man doesn't see, though, is that the past is made of average men.

The harsh reality is that gadgets, and iPhones and tablets are NOT killing good literature, that clip TV DOESN'T ruin our perception. That celebrity-gossip DOESN'T make people into mindless drones. That shitty movies and professional sports are NOT taking  people away from classic art and music. That tweeting, sexting and showing off your personal life online DOESN'T lead to the downfall of a person's moral character.

The truth is that the average human character had always been pretty shitty from the point of someone on a more elevated position.

Consider the fact that circa the 18th-19th century, which is when our western civilization was supposed to flourish, when the greates works of art and the great scientific advances were made, 95% of the population around the globe were illiterate dirty fucks. And about 0.004% were literate dirty fucks and loved crude romance novels and ogled at bearded women in circuses the same way you stare at Miley Cyrus these days.

Consider that 98% of people in any given epoch had low taste, horrible communication skills, pretty mediocre mental capabilities (and "mediocre" I use here veeery generously), and their belief in God and Country ended where a bottle of cheap medieval alcohol began. Consider that the overwhelming majority was an unpleasant mess of crude, cattle-brained, fuck. That there never was the time where the useless, worthless majority was preoccupied with the "real, important things" – 100 years ago women were babbling around the laundry about their husbands, and didn't discuss Descartes and Voltaire.

And then, after all this, you'll understand that nothing was ruined culturally, for the most part. It's just that this nature of the average man became more evident. The tricky part is, though, that the UN-average man had lost his will to rip through the torns to the stars, that the average man became a desirable state of being. That is the difference, and that is the danger.

But modern technology doesn't make people dumber or ruin culture. Our modern way of life doesn't undermine some fragile cultural wisdom - for there was none from the start, for most people.

The naked king proclamation now would sound as "we just gave an iPad to an 90 IQ soil-toiler, what did you fucking expect"?

Technology doesn't change human nature. It just exposes it.

No rest for the wicked

Journal Entry: Mon Oct 21, 2013, 2:34 PM
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So, loads of stuff is going on.

First thing first - race riots in Byrulyevo. Been there, even spent some quality time in the PD, got off cuz PRESS. Shit was glorious. You know, in your "free" (I'd make the quotation marks the size of the WTC twin-towers) western countries you never have a protest when your white bretheren are killed - such thing is reserved only for martyred Trayboon Martins.

But we do. This was a major victory - all of the police up in arms in a huge city, ministry of defense spurning and catching the culprit asap, massive oppressions of migrant shitstains... If every death of a white russian person results in such a riot, if we make it so - the future would be glorious. It would just be economically unbeneficial for the government to keep the farce up.

Volgograd bombing... I'll be the only one on this site to talk about it, and bow to the ones killed, but heed my word. Revenge will always be served. Once again, the western media is silent on these deaths, no going apeshit over those 4 people blown by a suicide bomber in a Russian city like the Marathon bombers, not an ounce of condemnation or the vitriol spewed at Tsarnaev brothers. However, we are tougher than the West too. Never forgive, never forget. Nobody.

Considering my personal shit. Getting paid more, getting more free time. Chaos is a fucking ladder and I'm fucking climbing it. Got a new cat. Now am a proud owner of a Bengal.

Managed to break my favorite AiAiAi TMA-1 headphones and hella mad. Getting ready to hit the shores of U-S of A somewhere in the beginning of 2014 for a few days. Staying as productive as ever. Sinking back into cyberpunk really fast - thanks Deus Ex: HR. Waiting for dat Samsung Galaxy Note 2014 edition to launch in stores with LTE options. I'm sleeping less, eating more, increasing productivity and profits, doing the high life and watching down on the peasantry, heh.

What can I say? I'm back, bitches. Get ready to dry your panties.


National-Futurism: Wake up and smell the schism

Journal Entry: Tue Sep 24, 2013, 1:10 PM
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Or - "why you should stop polishing Hitler's portrait with your tongue"

The preambule: So, one dA "NS" member put up a pamphlet called "Real National-socialists vs Fake", where he went on ranting about how a lot of dumb skinheads falsely claim to be NS and that, surpisingly, "real NS respect ALL races and do not deem anyone inferior". I commented on the person's journal politely stating that National-socialism is irreversibly tied to the idea of white supremacy, and to deny that is being subversive.

Well, my comment was blocked and I was banned from the user's page because I'm one of those horrid "white trash" people who are so full of hate and dare to think that NS isn't about playing with kittens and spreading love, but about securing the future for our ethnicities with everything we can.

The person in question, of course, is a what I call, nostalgia-fag – gallery full of old WW2 photos, gushing their girl juices over the dead German officers and calling out "Russian warcrimes".

So, there's the whole thing I want to talk to my watchers, those who watch me for my political writings. About how historical nerding and nostalgia are keeping us from becoming a bigger force than we really are – and why white nationalist organizations are more successful when they look towards the future, instead of sticking in the past.

I don't know about you, but I'm living in 2013. I own a tablet, I work in media, I wear sneakers, watch anime and TV series about drug dealers, I'm not commiting to a family and I like making money. On the other hand, I'm a white supremacist and national-socialist.

Though – I'm not the national-socialist you think I am. I don't own a physical copy of Mein Kampf. I don't wear an SS uniform. I haven't a single medal or NS parphrenalia, aside from a ring of a MODERN movement member. There's no Hitler portrait to be found anywhere around my belongings, I don't participate in historical reconstruction LARPs or posses a vast collection of WW2 photos. Don't wake up signing "Die fahne hoch", and don't glue together plastic Messerschmidt (did I spell that right?) models.

Simply put – I'm not a nerd NS.

I'm a national-futurist, and yes, I came up with the term like 10 minutes ago.

So, what do I mean with that? In what I just thought up, National-Futurism = National-Socialism + Technocracy + Defiance.

Let's look at the components closer then. For anyone with half a brain it's evident, that no ideology survives without evolving. It is really dumb to take National-socialism in it's practiced form of 1930's Germany and blindly follow it's dogmatics like it's the word of Jesus Christ. It is dumb, because that kind of National socialism was a product of a specific time, place and paradigm of 1930s Germany. It was influenced by that reality, and answered the goals and questions of that time.

But we live in a totally different paradigm, so of course it cannot be applied in it's totality. Back in 1940s, National-socialists had no problems with Muslims. But we do now. Back in 1940s, National-socialism evolved under the patronage of the state – now it's an alternative, underground ideology. Back in 1940s, it was implemented only for one nation. But now, it is spread pan-European-like.

That means, that when we brush off all the historical dust, we are left with the core of what National-socialism is – an economically socialist system design to benefit, protect and develop an ethnically homogenous state-nation under the principles of white supremacism.

That is the National-socialism that I adhere to. Not the antiquated one, with bells and whistles that are totally unneccessary today, but lacking important issues. Unwaverness in dogmatics is a sign of a religion, not of a flexible system that changes and grows with the society who's inner workings it governs.

Now, the second component. Technocracy. Technocracy is how the modern National-socialism should be implemented. Technocracy, in it's pure form, aknowledges and exploites the developed natural sciences to further the interests of a nationalist society. In our current times, where technology dominates the social dynamics, being on the edge of it, both in economic and ideological spheres, is necessary. Technocracy is the link to the future, the guarantee of stable social environment and the creation of human values within an NS society. I'm just talking out of my journalistic ass here.

Technocracy is for the rationalists. It forges the material framework for a functioning regime, that uses the tech and scientific advances for practical and forward-oriented goals, for consumerable results rather than religious purposes. It's science that isn't afraid or constrained by moralities.


And the third component. Defiance. Defiance is the muscle of National-Futurism. It implies active, political, social and psychological opposition to the current paradigm, to liberalism and cultural marxism. It implies being ready to go and fight. It implies festering and accepting your hate, sharpening it into a weapon. Defiance is in participating within your community, building networks, public relations, being politically and socially active, and with every step implant and propagate our values in opposition to the corruption.  It's in saying "no" to dieversity, it's about addressing the current problems and providing easily deployed solutions, instead of moping and debating. Defiance towards the old mistakes and new delusions. Mercilessness and toughness, physical and mental. Passion and goal-driven attitudes.

Defiance for a National futurist lies in a total lack of apologetics. A Nationa-futurist never apologizes - he has nothing to apologize for, because reality doesn't need to be babied or covered up in dregs of excuses. He doesnt care how many Jews died and why - he cares about Whites not dying, and the question of how to ensure that. And if it means utilizing principles that lead to other people's deaths? Who the fuck cares. What was done is done, but the world is moving, and it ain't gonna wait till you restructure your ethics.

So, what do I mean with all that.

National-futurism is about looking into the future. Into the goals of tomorrow, and grabbing opportunity by its throat. Greek Golden Dawn are the national-futurists of today, for example. The White Student union. The Russian movements.

People that under plain casual clothes are trained soldiers of a takeover army. People who aren't afraid of being called "racists" and who do not deny it. People who don't shy away from the fact that whites created the modern civilization and continue to run it. People that are ruthless, not swallowed by guilt, that internally don't want to distance themselves from "Nazi atrocities" – people who don't give a shit about what happened 70 years ago and mull over it, but who are ready to go out and reclaim their nations, with fire and blood if necessary.

National-futurism creates new values, and filters the old, not holding to tradition for the sake of tradition, but critically examining it through the prism of it's worthiness for building a better existence for our people. It's not stuck in 1940s. It doesn't mellow like nationalism, but rather becomes more extreme where needed, more slick and presentable when needed, and is flexible enough to hold it's own on the turf of hostile ideologies.

I'm a national-futurist. Hitler, Goebbels, Heydrich, Himmler are historical figures of merit, but not an iconoclast of saints. I will deploy modern tactics and beat the enemy with its own weapons, if needed, while breaking the rules they had imposed while they yell "hypocrisy" and I engage in foul play.

National-futurism is concerned only with the goal, not the method – and the goal is a competitive, white nationalist ideology with an NS core, that can ensure the prosperity of adherent to it, white people. It's concerned with national sovereignity, apartheid, self-determination and building a less broken economy in the wake of overpowering multicult.

It's certainly not concerned with being a nerdy-ass, "nice" little Nazi that plays fair and dresses up, and cries about the victims of Dresden.

So do expose the nostalgia-fags. They're nothing but a burden, a relic of the past, uniform fetishists and history geeks.

Theirs is the past – ours is the future.

I am the one that bans

Journal Entry: Wed Sep 4, 2013, 1:36 PM
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Free Image Hosting at www.ImageShack.us


There's crazy.... and there's BATSHIT INSANE. Check this hilarity out: comments.deviantart.com/1/3911… I couldn't help but make fun of it. Breaking Bad rules mad balls yo.

Damn, the dA mention feature available for us premium members, is a goldmine of madness.

Irony is that, to come to such a conclusion you have to get REALLY high.

I just love Polish people. Cheering for Uncle Sam and hating on us Russians for drinking vodka, while the Western Europeans whom they idolize call them a nation of drunk plumbers (immigrant low-qual workers, get it?). No, my poor kurwas, you're not going to pilot some off-the-conveyor epic fail F-22's in the name of glorious NATO, you'll be at best scrubbing urinals at the airbase. Delusions, there's some. Not to mention that I'm apparently a drug-lord. Part-time tech journalist, part-time meth king-pin. Thankfully no lung cancer.

But on the other hand, it's sad when a nation is crippled mentally through centuries of continuous defeat, war, being a change coin for larger nations and even being irrelevant in modernity. They're like the european version of jews. Still, even when I encounter people like those guys, I just can't hate on Poles. For one thing, they're still Slav bro's with a buzzsaw language, there's still a lot of awesome people from there, and really hating on them would be equivalent to kicking a sick puppy with an amputated paw.

Though I would kick a sick puppy. I hate puppies.

No honor for the worthless

Journal Entry: Wed Aug 14, 2013, 12:17 PM
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About 4 years ago I was at the peak of my alcoholism. Not going to share any heart-wrenching stories about what actually transpired when I was drunk shitfacingly, because everyone knows how it is. The point I'm going to make, is that even at that peak – or rather, low – I took full responsibility for drinking.

There was no reason or object to blame – I just really enjoyed the state of inebriation and the taste of strong spirits. I didn't consider it a sickness, or some kind of refuge, where I was pushed to. No, I drank because I liked drinking. Simple as that. I was INDULGING myself. Like any drug addict. Oh, and I also took drugs. I've been what's called in the US, robo-tripping, I took amphetamines – harmless shit all in all, but to illustrate a point.

I stopped drinking the moment where the threat to my health, even to my life, as a result of this over-indulgence became apparent and imminent. However, I'm personally glad that I had the fortitude to stop at that moment, because even given grave circumstances, not everyone does.

In any case, I didn't excuse myself and I managed to stop. How I managed this – is a whole other story, and more fit for a self-help book that I hate. If you're in a similair problem, you should go figure yourself.

In any case, drinking did nothing positive to me. I was mentally weak from it, I was physically weak. I got fired because of it, I had almost of all my relationships destroyed from it – and in the end, it boiled down to my choice.

Then, when I was actually sick (where the illness prompted me to finally stop drinking), I realized how this choice affected my life, and made another choice – to rebuild what was broken by my previous actions. It didn't happen over-night. Even though I stopped drinking, I had other health issues and unemployment, that slowly deteriorated the quality of my life, to a rather abrasive point... But. But. The fact that my mind wasn't addled by alcohol even at those unhappy times, allowed me to overcome and overturn them.

That's it in a nutshell. My personal choices and my responsibility for them. Choice between "this makes me feel good momentarily" vs "this has long-lasting effect of accomplishment". Responsibility of consequence of the choices – I'll drink/smoke/inject this, and then, there will be a toll to pay.

My problem with society today is that the idea of becoming a better person is getting abolished on all fronts. That's what this prelude is about.

We're witnessing a culture of acceptance, a culture with a stance in anti-self-improvement. The majority of a person's moral flaws, behavioral flaws, intellectual flaws and physical flaws are being paraded under the guise of loving oneself. The CONSCIOUS BATTLE TO OVERCOME THESE, on the other hand, is being paraded as a "privilege".

But there's a catch. When you're an alcoholic, no-one really accepts you. Rightfully so, though. When you're an alcoholic, you're arguably a liability and threat to others, not only yourself. Yes, alcoholics usually love to state reasons WHY they're an alcoholic and WHO is to blame. "My wife left me". "I'm oppressed". "I have depression".

And then....

People say "don't judge me for who I am. I'm a good person. Judge me for my actions". But when you go and judge them for their actions and assume they take responsibility for it, the make up excuses for said actions, invalidating your right to judge.

I don't get it. Most people who say this, are not good people. In the sense that the whole term "a good person" is completely lost it's meaning and value. All these people who go around saying they're good people because they give to charity or support gay marriage or check their privilege – they're shit people. Because they're irresposible. Because they're, the majority of people overall, are "nothing people". Not good, not bad. They're irrelevant. They don't strive to self-improve, and that's why they're so afraid of judgement.

They're afraid that the judgment will uncover the bland, irrelevant void that they are.

Acceptance and judgment. Yeah. Acceptance, by the definition of the word, is no acting against something that might be consider a detriment – same as tolerance. It's passive, and it's a cover-up for something negative. This negative is the inability to do something about a percieved flaw.

So why I started with talking about alcoholism, when the topic is actually the inability of a modern man to assume responsibility for their actions, better himself from the realization of the responsibility and stop accepting weakness in himself and others?

Because the inability to assume responsibility stems from accepting one's own over-indulgence.

Alcoholism is just one of the few save "havens" where people can be still blamed for acting shitty and over-indulging without getting the whole "but it's X privilege to hate them!"

But there are other, socially accepted forms of evading responsibility through deliberate self-degradation. Over-eating. Under-working. Taking recreational drugs. Not fixing a mental illness. Etc. The problem is, that nowadays, society is expected to take care of people who refuse to contribute to it through their disability, while the latter do everything in their power to undermine the founding principles of this society.

Improving oneself is seen as oppressive and privileged.

Now, let me tell you a story of John Doe and Jack Poe.

John Doe and Jack Poe are virtually, twins. Both grew up in middle-class euro-american white families. Both had a nice childhood, attended a good school, possessed the same intelligence and talents. Their lives, up to high-school, were technically identical. No family problems for the sake of argument, no tension.

Then, in high-school their paths started to diverge. John Doe got interested in medicine and sports – let's say, swimming. Jack Poe got interested in music and video-games. John Doe, for some reason, had a more focused vision of his future, and began working towards it by focusing on his grades, while Jack Poe assumed that his parents will take a college credit anyway, so he can as well enjoy life while he can.

They both graduated. However, John Doe was accepted in a prestigious med school thanks to his performance and completion of pre-admission programs, and involvement with student-level research, while Jack Poe had enrolled into a lax college to do Ethnic Studies bachelor programms, in an attempt to free up time for his music stuff.

John Doe continued doing sports because he liked them. Jack Poe continued to smoke weed because he liked it. John Doe quickly got involved with internships during the course, participating in research programs, while Jack Poe wandered around trying to assemble a band.

As a result, upon graduation, John Doe landed in a clinic on a doctor's position, found a girlfriend and moved out of his parents house, because he started making money. Jack Poe, on the other hand, after graduation stayed with his parents, pursuing a fleeting musical career and becoming a freelance columnist for an online outlet.

John Doe continued training. Jack Poe continued smoking weed and drinking, which made the quality of his materials worse. His parents started expressing anger over his lifestyle, and his musical career bought no fruits to reap. The declining quality of his writing and the fact that his degree proved useless, prohibited Jack Poe from starting his career anew, but he felt that he deserved more, and didn't try to enroll on a lower qualification job.

John Doe's wealth grew, his health remained steady. Jack Poe was deteriorating mentally from the realization of his failure, unemployment and unfullfilled aspirations. He started eating as a consolation, and became obese, which made it even harder for him to get in the job market, less pursue a family.

Now, John Doe is a well-known doctor, that travels to conventions, helps people, made a family and wealth. Jack Poe is now an obese wreck with little job experience that lives with his parents and seethes with self-loathing.

The finale of this story is indeed tragic – John Doe is not only expected to pay for Jack Poe's life support. No, John Doe is BLAMED for Jack Poe's failure at the same time. But that's not even the bottom of the barrel, folks! No.

Society expects, in the end, to Jack Poe possess the same amount of wealth, respect and privileges as John Doe does, while possessing none of his responsibilities. And the worst of all, since that is impossible to achieve positively, the only way to achieve this equality of result, is to take wealth from John Doe and re-assign it to Jack Poe.

While the latter is expected to do nothing.

That's the crux of my argument, therefore. The "oppressed" and "under-privileged" are not expected to proactively do something about their sorry state, if they feel so bad about it. We, the people who assumed responsibility and worked hard to become what we are, are told to share our achievements with the under-achievers, and never ever ask them to get off their fucking knees.

You know, when I see on the internet something about "check your privilege", I want to answer "check your worthlessness".

Because all these "good people" are statistically, majorly, worthless. As to quote a song, "you've done nothing to be revered". The thing I don't understand, is why I am expected to empathize and listen to and "understand the experience" of people who I see as lazy, worthless bums that reach out for civilizational and societal handouts? I don't understand why I owe anything to a person who's one hand is thrusted out for some spare change, but the other flips me a bird?

It's like – if you want some money from me, some sympathy, be at least humble about it. Concede that you are a worthless piece of shit that made really bad life choices, that doesn't want to override these choice by actively bettering oneself, but waits for me to fix it just because I have it better.

Jack Poe could have a good life. But he buttfucked himself. I buttfucked myself at a point in my life. And I won't go around and tell how anyone owed me something because of this.

Ah, but people will wail about "institutionality" and "systemic opression". Like, "I cant do nuffins cuz DA SYSTEMS WORKS GAINST MEH!". Well then, by this logic, you have no right to demand a system that supposedly works against you, to give you benefits to negate it. Especially when you fail to conform the requirements the system sets for people that want to get these benefits.

The failure of this logic is mostly evident with the feminist movement in the West. Women wail how male patriarchs have all power and how women are underpaid and under-respected, over-raped and over-objectified. And then, these exact women who cry that there's not enough female programmers and engineers, what do they do? They enroll in gender studies. They also demand men to step off from their positions and to enroll female work-force that doesnt qualify by the same standards.

So even if the situation were true, where in the world had you seen a person willingly give up his lifeblood to help someone who hates their guts? It's a dead-end for leftist logic of weakness tolerance. Your enemy owes nothing to you.

I never received a handout in my life, with the exception of some free medicine due to military status. I had never gotten a single coin of welfare money, I had never used excuses for my failings. In the west, that would be attributed to my straight white male privilege.

But then, it means, that straight white male privilege isn't about having the game set in your favor. It means being focused enough to beat the game. It means, that privileges are earned through achievements and ability to overcome adversity.

However, these days, people bask in their failings, attach fancy labels to them, seek acceptance and special treatment for them, and excuse this all for some kind of mythical oppression.

We live in the age of not even mediocrities, the "good people". We live in the age of pathetic worthless filth, that would not lift a finger to accept responsibility and set things in their favor, but would move mountains to force real people do shit for them. In the name of nothing more, but vague ethics that hadn't been even tested by a few decades.

Nietzche's "last man" is swarming all over the earth. It breeds, it multiplies, it basks in it's total uselessness and waste.

And the uber-man?

Well, he pays the taxes. And is forced to shut the fuck up.

It's time for the Atlas to finally shrug hard.

No Peace

Journal Entry: Thu Aug 8, 2013, 12:30 PM
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I love my country. I love Russia. I love being Russian. I wanna go out in wheat field and just fall into the grass, and kiss the earth and cry to the sky that I'm so lucky I'm Russian. Joking, but yeah. Being Russian is awesome.

You know, I think US citizens really should stop chest-thumping like mountain gorillas and going "FREEDOMS, FUCK YEAH! WE R TEH LAND FREE, NO-ONE ELSE IS FREE, YEEEEEHAAAAAW WE'VE INVENTED FREEDOM!"

Because you're not free. The Russian Federation is a far more open society, than the US or any EU country. I love it. I have no restraining factors on my freedom of speech here, on my freedom of thought, of belief or any sort of behavior. Yeah, suck it up. THE RUSSIAN FEDERATION IS A MUCH MORE OPEN SOCIETY. A less scared one. When I go on trips to western countries and express my views - which you're aware of - IRL, people open their mouths and go: "dude, how can you say this, aren't you afraid? You can't just SAY that!"

But I can. I can say this in the US, I can say this in Russia. Everywhere. Maybe except North Korea.

You'd say – no, that's bullshit, you have gulags, and you can't say anything anti-Putin, or the KGB tortures you in the gulag again, gulag gulag gulag gulag. Riiiiight. We're in the 21st century. It's the US where you cannot call Obama a big fucking ape on social media – and I can call Putin a jew-faced pedophile on our social media. And you know what's even funnier? If you call Obama a nigger on the Internet, you can face jail. If I call Putin a racial slur – well, I MIGHT get my site/blog blocked, but as far as facing jail time? Don't think so.

It's not only racial stuff, for example. Recently, a kid in the US faces 10 years of jail because he posted a comment on Facebook after a gaming session to his pal, in an answer to the question if he's crazy (refering to the kick-ass gaming), that "yeah I'm crazy, gonna go an shoot up a school". For example, people face conviction for offensive twitter posts.

Now, note, that all of the above-mentioned instances of Western persecution don't come as a response of an attempt to overthrow an existing government. This draconian censorship is applied to PERSONAL OPINION, THOUGHT, WORLDVIEW, SINGULAR INSTANCES OF EXPRESSION. Unlike what happens here. When people point out to Russia and yell how we have human rights violation and censorship, referring to the repression of political dissidents (that are caught on unsanctioned IRL protests, mind you), NOBODY, in typical double-standard lying, points out that it's something every regime does.

When people become a threat, there are laws to take them out of the game. The US authorities did exactly the same during Occupy Wallstreet movement, they do exactly the same now while using Southern Poverty Law Center facilitation to criminalize patriotic movements under the "racism" label, and so on. There's nothing uniquely more harsh or brutal about some stuff that prevents dissidents from sprawling in Russia, than there is in US.

It's all a matter of propaganda.

The difference why I am proud of my country despite all it's enourmous faults (that are present everywhere), is that we don't attempt to police thought anymore. We're very different from the USSR there, and US, ironically, is closer to USSR in that respect. At my workplace, today, I said all migrants should be deported from the country. Some of my coworkers agreed, some didn't. We debated a bit, went back to work. Guess what? I won't be fired after this. But you would be.

And the laws we put forth against blasphemous speech, you say? But that's reserved only for the media and officials to not make particularly offensive statements, not towards regular citizens.

However, the USA and EU "hate speech" laws, sweep over every individual and make him judicially viable for persecution. So much for freedom of speech.

But of course all freedom is relative. Russia, however, has the decency to realize, that different societies and states should be able to FREELY decide what is best for them without the intervention of an international human morality regulator.

Point in question. Recently I've been joyous and uplifted at all the sweet gay tears over the ban of gay propaganda in Russia. Especially the old irrelevant fat british chinless fuck Stephen Fry's tears leading to his cries of "OMG NO OLYMPICS GAMES IN RUSSIA PLZ, CUZ I AM GAY AND THIS HURT MAH FAT GAY FEELS".

Because your national media surely twisted the story to unbelievable conclusions (easy, because you don't know Russian, you cannot check for yourself and determine the truth), I'll tell you the jist of it. Homosexuals can live in Russia. They can work, get social security and every other benefit from the state – ie, live their lives like anyone else here. The only thing they are now prohibited to, is to say that their sex life is a fabulous glorious lifestyle in your face. Just that. The same way like say, a lot of groups, political groups, in many "progressive" countries are prohibited to proselytize their views.

What is the western reaction? "Russia sends gays to gulags! Russia is new Nazi Germany!"

When in reality, it's just a ban on certain kinds of propaganda. PROPAGANDA. Not discussion, not debate, not research or opinion - on PROPAGANDA.

One can say that then, the gay right of speech is violated, their freedom to tell other people that they love being gay, and that everyone would've loved it if they tried.

But think about, FREE people. Aren't gays violating MY freedom of not wanting to hear or see that? Aren't they violating with their propaganda my human rights of not being exposed to what I consider offensive? Why does a minority's feelings matter more than the majority's? Or, if we start to determine who has more rights to be offended and over what, and someone gets shafted, then how is it got anything to do with freedom and morality?

We are a free country. The majority of Russians do not wish their freedom of not being exposed to gay propaganda to be violated. Our awful, horrible gulag criminal government that sends people to the gulag, listened to the people and gave them what they wanted, simple as that. That's a true democracy.

In France, a totalitatian regime ignored the majority who wanted their freedom of not having parentless kids be adopted by people with scientifically proven higher chances of mental instability. France gave rights to the minority, but shat all over the majority. That's a fascist state, that deemed the majority of their countrymen as second-class citizens, who's opinions and voices didn't matter.

In Russia, though, our voices matter at least where it DOES matter, and not in which puppet president is put to the top. Land of the free.

But see, this is continuosly funny, gay tears. Some other sweet-ass gay tears were shed over the upcoming Orson Scott Card's movie, the "Ender's Game" – which is about an interplanetary war with alien bugs and has no QUARDRUPED BBQ WTF issues, by the way. See, once upon a time, the science fiction writer Orson Scott Card, voiced a personal opinion that he deems gay marriage unnecessary.

Now, because of what Mr. Scott Card expressed, gays believe that NOONE should watch his movie. They believe that their knee-jerk reactions towards personal opinion is more important than the enjoyment of millions of people that want to watch an entertaining sci-fi flick.

So tell me, free Americans, where is the freedom of normal people to watch a film of a person indepenently of how their views affect a tiny population group?

Why, as my good friend pointed out, you CAN and ARE ENCOURAGED to watch a movie by a gay director, or read a book by a gay writer, and OUTSPOKEN at that – but you can't have the opposite? And don't give me the whole "but gays are humans, you can't hate on humans that's why duuh!". 

I'm human, but people hate on my because of my views, so what? Where's my group of rights activists?

See, this is where we talk about art. Why it is that the art scene – cinema, music, etc – so fucking TOTALITARIAN by your own fucking definition of totalitarianism? Why is it so restricting and restraining? Why, in order to be accepted in the mainstream, you have to bow down to a tiny group of what are essentially, sexual perverts? Why does everything have to be LGBTQQFGHABFERF-approved? And if it's not approved, if it dares to question it, it doesn't deserve to see the light of day? It's a blatant restriction of choice. The fact that this restriction and violation is paraded under the guise of freedom and epithome of ethics, is the most vile and grotesque irony that lately graced the earth.

At least my country's govenment is honest. It did what 90% of people demanded to be done. Not 1%, he-he.

See, it's just like the Soviet-Communism hell you so like to bemoan when talking about the free, free Russia. You have the exact same equivalent of our past censorship bureaus that check materials and authors and people for compliance with ideology. And before you're gonna go on a diatriabe of "but you use a US site, how can u attack our values!", here's the deal - I use it for free. I use a service of a private business, not the US government, because I find the service to be better than what my national private companies offer. Don't worry, if the ToS start to dissatisfy me, I'll leave pronto for a greener pasture. Maybe to an Islamic one, ahahah?

Well that's what I got to say: be Russian. Be bold, be free, be unafraid, be courageous, be unrestrained, be die-hard. Never shut the fuck up and sit down. Never "get educated". Never do as you are told by boring, dumb, dying marxists.

Nationalism, mental health, responsibility, common sense and aggression is hip. Policing youself, bowing down to fags and groveling in apologies of "opression" is out of vogue. Everyone is doing it, especially nasty-ass fuck teentards.

You're one of them? No, you're not, I believe that.

Attempt to fight for a freedom, if you're such a "free-thinker" as you declare. For a freedom of having a choice not to comply with "USA LAND OF THE FREE".

No peace, never.

The Tolerometer Chronicles

Journal Entry: Tue Jul 16, 2013, 2:19 PM
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*This is a piece of satirical social sci-fi I did in relation to current events. Posting to journal cuz noone reads my literature submissions.

John was going home back from work – from an exhausting 10 hours at the local powerplant, his sweaty shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin under the kevlar plates of the bodysuit.

He moved in short, abrupt strifes, squeezing to the wall of an abandoned school, glancing warily as he went by. Time was of essence as the sun rolled imminently downwards, the shadows stretching gaunt from the garbage piles that littered the street.

Dusk was settling. In the distance, howls and yelps could be heard, the roar of motors, and as John turned around the corner, he looked sideways at the old bookstore on the opposite side of the street. He picked up voices, and his head inadvertently shot towards the source of noise.

It was his school, some twenty years ago. His town, too. His yards, filled with summer buzzing and morning bird songs. The bookshop, Barnes&Noble, where he'd sneak in to read a few comic pages or snatch a new videogame. His community, too – clean, tight, friendly. Safe. Too safe. Memories brought the sweet smell of fresh-shaven wooden floorboards, that emanated from his father, the warm glow of a computer monitor as he'd hook up with his friends over Facebook to go skate or play ball in the schoolyard.

Now, as he watched, he saw the remains of the bookstore – a shabby hut with a nation-wide liquor brand-sign pulsing an angry neon red, flanked by heaps of garbage nobody bothered to clean away. Behind it, were a park once bloomed, skeletal remains of trees swayed, gripping the powerlines with leafless branches. The skies were leaden anx heavy. A door flopped open and creaked somewhere in the depths of the crumbling school building. John nearly jumped.

It would have been a lie to say everything changed drastically, of course. There still was internet, Verternet as it was called now, after VR technology was popularized. There still were roads, and expensive electronics, and foods, and luxury housing, and TV shows and whatever. Summertime, and the living is easy. They were still the USA, land of the free...

Free to burn. As did a stray dog, that was probably doused in kerosine and now burned like a torch and twitched on the ground near the former bookstore, while a few men prancedaround it, cheering. One of them took a swing from his bottle and poured the on the dog, feeding the flames to his delight. Another from the group, a female, went on all fours, and began shaking her ass at the dying creature, as if in parody, in rhythm to a pounding and droning beat. John slowed his pace and squinted.

Those men were bla-AAACKGRHAAAAAA!

For an onlooker, it seemed like John was punched by an unseen enemy – he swayed back violently, smashing into the brick wall, his hands clutching his head. He fell, convulsed, scrambled to get up but failed, and like a wounded soldier crawled back behind the corner, out of sight. There, he finally vomited.

John sat for a second, his right trembling hand wiping blood from his nostril, and his left clutching the Tolerometer above his ear. Nails pressed tightly into the glued-down piece of metal, but John grimaced and finally let go. Unauthorized removal of the Tolerometer was punished by law -  he didn't remember the severity of the offense specifically, but it was something akin to treason.

Thankfully, the Tolerometer didn't prohibit from thinking about the Tolerometer. He couldn't tell anyone, but he hated the thing. He got it installed back in school, and after the Kopetzki-Yuma vs. Portland state trial, none of the "privileged" P-class had any opt-outs from the Tolerometer program. Strange to think... back in the day he wore the goddamn machine like a badge of honor. Look, I'm getting rid of bigotry! I'm finally becoming a decent human being! I denounce the evil of my fathers!

It was frying his brains, he was sure of it.

John scratched his temple. Unprotected. Helmets were prohibited for the last few months, after some heretic had used it to disproportionately apply force against a group of teen Educators. For it was written in stone of the St. Martin Diversity Church: "you shall receive what you deserve – and you shall stand still and receive your earthly punishment, for that is how we rid man of sin, of the dirt of racism and bigotry".

No helmets, because the person who's name John forgot, even though it was streamed through Glasses nationwide – had took his Education baptism really badly. The culprit took his helmet off, used as a shield against the pigstick prod, and bashed it over the head of one of the Educators. The latter got a scratch above his eye as a result. The next day, hundreds were dead. Dragged on the street, and strangled by the straps of their helmets. The media applauded such a swift, united civilian reaction to the atrocity that had t4anspired.

There was a big fuss, John vaguely remembered. Shows and Vert-sessions on how devils like John will never stop at anything to kill a defenseless, unarmed youth. Professor-Ascendant Hului Akenwa from Washington, a preacher to the St.Martin Swag Cathedral, had argued that it was time to move boldy forward.

"The guilt of the white man is not enough! His money is not enough! We have to take the snake in his brain and firmly, without fear, decapitate it – we should finally implant the Tolerometer intercerebrally! This nation is in a disaster – every day the police gets signals of deactivated Tolerometers, and we have to waste their forces on pursuing the crazy-ass honky devils around instead of rebuilding our communities! Just implant them under their skulls, and the problem is solved!" the salt-and-peppered man spat into the VR-cam. " Racism is power plus prejudice - so, we have combated prejudice, now it's time for power! They should know that their own minds are their potential killers, and that we - not they - have the cure for it! That's how we eliminate the power!" The co-host nodded solemnly.

As John sat there, contemplating, his Glasses lit up.

"John Smith, age 36, white, P-class – IT-systems engineer, N-class status, GPS confirmed, bank account confirmed, Social Security number 7725412, Tolerometer number ZX-C-128420-H, you have used your last Tolerance Point. I repeat, NPD department, unit Tuwuma West Grove, has received a log from your Tolerometer, you have used your last Tolerance Point for this month", John's left, blood-shot eye fixed on the flat, shiny face of woman that shimmered in the holo of his Glasses.

"John Smith, you should immediately relegate yourself to the local Diversity Church. You should immediately relegate yourself to the local Diversity Church. Failure to do so would result in sever brain damage in the next activation of your Tolerometer unit. Failure to do so..."

John struggled to get up to his feet, his mind reeling. Last Tolerance Point... But how? He shuffled through his memory, cursing with Federal, state-approved non-derogatory swearwords.

***

The Tolerometers were a product of British scientists who in 2014 had confirmed with all factual data that racism and bigotry and prejudice is innate to all white people, and therefore could not be un-taught by conventional psychological methods. White, caucasian people were uniquely evil – and unfortunately for the rest of the world, this gave them an edge over all others, serving as the reason for their civilizational success.

But, as the powers-that-be considered, whites had completed their mission – they created the foundation for a truly equal civilization, and now were useless with their aggression in the very system they had built. They were dinosaurs, lizard-brained immoral devils that threatened the rest of the emergent mankind, and something had to be done with the hate that was a part of their very genome.

For the caucasians were still useful... Whites were assigned to operate the inner mechanical workings of the society, to repay all subjugated, genocided and unfortunate races for millenia of misery. It was an ironic twist of fate... They once ruled the world as kings, but then had become the mules that ensured that the world's gears still turned, a world that now had no place or patience for their antiquated hate.

On the other hand, the caucasians had to be kept in check. As the scientific circles had argued, it is possible to train even the most primitive animals. If whites cannot unlearn hate on a high level of cognitive functioning, Pavlov methods could prove effective instead. And so, the Tolerometer was born. It was a rather simple device, the sole function of which was to scan a person's cortex and find any brain activity that signified racialist thinking, aggressiveness, sexism, bigotry, violent prejudice and even simple acknowledgement of difference. To scan, find – and deliver a jolt of electricity to the brain.

It took years of lawsuits, deaths and protests for the foundation of the program to be put in action. Whites lost their grip with every court defeat, with ever TV show, with every Twitter repost that exposed them as the scourge of earth. They thought they could pay the world off – but money was never enough. Nothing, but the Tolerometer was enough.

And one day, the senate had passed the infamous Prop T bill, on the brink of a civil war between white americans, immigrants and blacks. It was backed up by the police and military, who in 2038 were 100% diverse and in favor of the Prop T. The operation was swift and brutal, as fit for the abhorrent racists. Those whites who didn't flee to Asia, had only one choice – compliance or jail.

Dozens of millions hadn't wavered and accepted the punishment on their knees. They complied and allowed the Tolerometers to be super-glued to their temples as an eternal sign of their repentance.

***

In the last month, John had violated the Human Rights Code of Egalitarian Conduct way too many times.

He didn't say "hello" to the b-... JUST a waitress in a Somali Fried Chicken restaurant, being too captivated by a giant cockroach that crawled on a cooker behind her. 

He glanced sideways at a b-... JUST a man that peed on his car.

When his b... JUST a boss demanded he drank a bottle of mayonaisse for the amusement of the office, he declined... and then, when he was convulsing on the floor, it was still squeezed into his mouth.

He forgot the words to the National Anthem during the regular Anti-Hate Blitz during coffee break. No... he didn't forget. He just opened his mouth and the words: "Kill, Kill the whitey, burn the devils down! Rape his wife and smash his kid, so he knows the justice!" didn't come out of his mouth for some reason. Something told him to keep silent and that something got a dose of white-hot voltage.

He saw a girl on the street and thought her pale blue eyes were beautiful.

Then, one night, going from work, he saw a group of Youth Education League members pushing knives between the bodysuit plates of some unfortunate fellow LIKE HIM while two other Educators ululated and chased around the fellow's daughter for some good old ultra-violence. Upon witnessing it, his hand clenched in a programmed muscle spasm, that traced back to the day when guns were allowed to be carried by people like HIM. The Tolerometer registered that spasm, a jerk of the trigger finger, and fried him.

It was enough to empty his Tolerance points.

Lost in his thoughts, John followed the Glasses' on-screen directions to the nearest Church. Not that he had never been there before - the Churches popped up like mushrooms after rain everywhere, but it was something he tried not to dwell on. 

The area was peppered by Aug-Ads that flashed before his vision as he moved into the neighborhood warily. Prostitutes pressed to the walls, someone threw a bottle at him through a window of a car... The streets began to grow populous, with shops and fast-food outlets popping up through the uniform darkness of Tulsa. In the smoke, shady sillouhettes emerged, leering at him and probing his bodysuit with knives and bats.

These days, streets weren't safe. Drivers followed little rules, and Educators prowled in the well-off communities, looking for the P-class citizens to educate about equality and anti-racism. What made the situation more problematic, was the fact that self-defense of any kindwas outlawed for P-class about five years, during the annual St. Martin Memorial day – thus, bringin about the era of bodysuits.

P – privileged – class, those who were required to install Tolerometers, weren't allowed to own any weapons or conduct intimidating actions against other citizen classes, even when their life was threatened. P-class was too dangerous, the government had decreed. It will never use force proportionately, and allowing guns to stay in such hands could bring up a fascist, Nazi state.

It was a price for sin atonement and it had been legally implemented.

So, the only thing to do in the Armadillo bodysuit, was to curl up and wait till the Educators – or anyone else for that matter – had their fill. Usually it worked... but sometimes, the hard exoskeleton shells got opened up to reveal the soft innards. And then, to the joy of the progressive mankind, historical justice was served.

***

The Chruch of Diversity was once a city council center – now, the Victorian-style building got demolished to free up space for a rainbow-colored steel-and-glass edifice to Multiculturalism. European heritage, as it was outlined by the President, was to be burned out with unwavering conviction, as it was an anchor to the rotten, ugly past that kept America in the shackles of tyranny.

John moved up the steps, watching the camera-eyes of the Saints statues with polite reverence that he hoped reflected guilt and obedience. When he got to the massive, graffiti-inscribed doors and put his thumb to the scanner, John's guts jostled around uncomfortably - he tried to avoid looking at the icons depicting devil Klansmen and Nazis burning in Hell on the door's front. He was afraid of his thoughts like never before. Of his reaction to it all when thought-crime was lethal.

Every last scan could be his last. He'd seen it – in subways, on streets, at work. Lifeless bodies in limp, weird poses, with blood and mucus running from their noses and ears.

Inside, the Church greeted him with a smell of stale piss and alcohol fumes, broken glass on the floor and more graffiti tags around. There was something like blood stains on the concrete floor and condom remains. In the farther end of the shimmering hall, a St. Martin statue stood with his hands stretched out, beckoning John to partake in the gift of Skittles and Iced Tea. John cocked his head to better catch the saint's smile in the shadow of the statue's hoodie. The ceiling was lavished with scriptures and icons of other famous anti-racism leaders.

"Privilege-Checking Booth number 16 is now open, P-Class John Smith", John's Glasses whispered in his ear.

Carefully, like stepping on eggshells, John moved deeper in the hall, along a row of polished steel doors. In a less than a minute, he reached his Privilege-Checking Booth. Before running his thumb of the door's handle sensor, he paused and looked up, at the little scripture on top of.

"Racism is a mortal sin. Step down and beg for forgiveness, because equality is just and equality is prime".

There was no other way to stand, but on one's knees in the Booth.

It was brightly lit and damp. John moved around the small cramped space and put his hands on two polished bars that stuck from the booth's front wall. A display switched on in front of John.

"John Smith, age 36, white, P-class – IT-systems engineer, N-class status, GPS confirmed, bank account confirmed, Social Security number 7725412, Tolerometer number ZX-C-128420-H — Your Tolerance points have run out. Tolerance Point refill will commence now. Standby. You will be serving AA-class citizen XXXXX-XXXX-XXXXX. Check your privilege".

The display went off. In its place, a small circular opening appeared, and through it, with grunts and cursing, a substantial piece of dark-skinned male genitalia began to squeeze in.

John looked up. The red skull of the empty Tolerance Point bar flashed at the peripheral of his Glasses-addled vision. As he watched the drooling organ forcing its way through the glory-hole, he suddenly felt so disconnected with it all. With his life, more specifically. What he wanted, is to be 10 years old again, and drink icy lemonade in his front yard, while watching his father curse when the lawnmower hit a garden gnome.

He was no resistance fighter. It came to him in a sudden, painful clarity. His parents weren't either. He, John Smith, was here, in this solitary confinement cell of utter degradarion, because he always had something to eat. Because he had a work and a computer, and a feeling that he was going to make the world a better place if he did what was "right". But all he knew about what was "right" was told to him by other people, by strangers that didn't care about him, and yet he believed in all of their words and ideas. He didn't question the truth, he didn't question lies. He just wanted to be a good person, because he was told that it equals a good life.

He always checked his privilege.

John opened his mouth and leaned in.

But for some reason, despite all he had, despite being a good person that atoned for his sins daily and that accepted his punishment, his life wasn't anywhere close to being good. It wasn't enough, even now. It wasn't enough for them, and his life wasn't good.

John frowned.

But even if his life fucked up, his death still wasn't. Death still had the chance to be good. He won't fuck this up.

John gulped, and swallowed, and then bit down with all his might.

The explosion in his head made his jaws shut with unprecedented force. Teeth gnashed, ripped and severed the flesh caught between them. The scream on the opposite side of the Privilege-Checking Booth's gloryhole was so loud and full of anguish, that it drowned out the roaring collapse between John's ears.

For the briefest moment, he felt alive. "No pain, no gain", his father said. "That's why niggers don't do jack shit, they're afraid of pain. Fear is the mind-killer, son".

Through all the blood, John smiled.



All fear was gone.


Meet the Chaos Heretics

Journal Entry: Mon Jul 8, 2013, 2:16 PM
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Free Image Hosting at www.ImageShack.us

So, here's the deal.  I'm working on a lot of "big" cyberpunk pieces and concept arts at the moment, but I still wanna do some 40k stuff - nothing serious though, just character doodling

But, I'm not a very creative person when it comes down to it. So I've seen people around doing character sketch prompts for quick practice, and that's something I want to try - not a faggy "ask X this" thing, but something along the lines where you can ask about/for specific stuff done in response by Torturer the Slaanesh Noise Raptor or Blind the Blood Pact trooper in sketch form. Silly shit applicable, just not dumbass retarded fuckery.

So yeah, it's kind of an ask thingy, but not quite it, I hope you figure. I'm waiting for some gritty, harcore, black humor and comically gory suggestions. I'll evaluate the prompts based on their do-ability and sanity, with immediate removal of dumb shit specific people would post, and do it as fast as I can - most like, a sketch every day, for about 8 days. So fire away)

Gaming and speshul snowflake feels

Journal Entry: Sun Jun 30, 2013, 5:08 AM
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The topic of today's rant is entitlement in the media.

I like gaming – maybe it's a nerdy-ass past-time, but I enjoy it. Not that I'm a particularly hardcore gamer, though – I play for the art, narrative and presentation, not to unlock a piece of armor or climb on some virtual leaderboard.

In any case, that said, I'm very lenient. I find nothing wrong with today's gaming industry. I like the fact that games become more cinematographic. I like gameplay that doesn't make we want to splice my fingers because it's so god-damned complex. I like pretty shiny graphics. I like when shit in normally "complex" genres is dumbed down. I also, with a passion, hate retro-gaming and more-so, retro-gaming snobs and indiefags.

In a nutshell – I love my AAA+ experiences. Thank god we have EA and Ubisoft.

That being said, I naturally followed the developments on this year's E3. The whole Xbox vs PS debacle, new exclusives announcements, trailers, etc. But what bummed me this year, is that sites like Joystiq, Polygon, Kotaku and IGN had dedicated a shitload of space and time to the discussion of... women and minorities in videogames, and social responsibilities of gaming.

See, there's this whole movement now in the community, to have more WIMMINZ and PEOPLE OF CRAP in gaming, because you know, catering to white men is so last year. But the controversy rises, and did rose in this year's E3, because of the fact that AAA publishers continue to ignore these lucrative social strate and pump out games – single-player non-RPG ones  - about the abhorrent white male experience.

The argument is that white male protagonists should go. That devs and publishers should just chuck out their main target audience out, and start appealing to the growing masses of "grrl gamers" and "multiethnic" ones. Cuz that's the moral thing to do. Feminists are appalled by lack of females, people of crap are appalled by the lack of brown in their games.

"It's the 21st century" they say.

I have seen the same argument in the art community. There's a recurrent trend of shaming caucasian artists about drawing white characters. We should have more diversity. If a white person creates something about whites only, they're racist – or boring. Like painting something a different color is so diversifying one's body of work.

I just one to point only one thing out. Ie – people vote with their money, when it's about media. And that in 21st century, if you want to get something done, you have the means of doing it yourself.

See, this is what I don't understand. Why are the activists pestering the companies which are STAFFED with white straight males for the most part, to do games for black homosexual females? Especially when they themselves state that the former "cannot connect to the experience"?

I remember that when the new Tomb Raider came out, and the authors attempted to make the character more life-like, the feminists lost their shit – they still didn't like how Lara Croft turned out. Still not too strong, or independent or whatever the fuck. And the attempted rape scene, oh yes.

In any case – what's this whole "do stuff about ME" whining trend? Why is it normal nowadays to pressurize artists and developers in doing things for you BEFORE you pay for it? Why is it considered ok to stiffle the freedom of expression of private entities?

The 900-pound gorilla in the room is the following – no one prohibits some chick to go out and start how own developer or publisher business. To recruit female staff. To produce a game targeted towards girl gamers. Noone prohibits negroes or mexicans to do the same, to make some "Call of Congo: Modern Bloatware" or homosexuals to make "Gaylo: Cumbat evolved". They have all the means.

Somebody in the gaming industry needs to stand up and say: - "You want games with strong female leads, with homosex relationships and POC sufferings? Where you kill white straight males? GO AND MAKE THEM. Then we'll see how good it sells. Or make it free-to-play". Someone needs to stand up, stop apologizing and catering to demands, and say: "You want this? Fine, do this, and I'll continue doing what brings in cash for me. Yeah, I know, that females start to play more games – but I won't loose much money in not making "Kitchen Effect", still".

That's the only logical thing.

See, for example, I don't want to play "Wolfenstein: New Order". I want to play a game where I'm this cool dude, who's killing negroes all over the place in attempt to save the world from a Jihadist future and where I can burn down homos and lesbos.

But, because I'm a sane person, I'm not going to write emails to EA demanding this to be done, nor will I start petitions against Wolfenstein, even though I think it's a bad premise and bad game. I just won't buy it. And I'd rather just make my own game or fund a company that's ready to do what I like.

That's how things are done in 21st century. Flailing on the floor and screaming "DISCRIMINASHUN! OPRESSHUN!" when it's about business is just being a self-entitled brat. Demanding artists to change their conduct to appeal to your feels is childish and moronic.

Also, females usually make shitty protagonists in almost every genre, but fantasy RPGs and horror/mystery. And I dunno, I always found it that dudes who like playing as females in non-narrative driven games, are just no-life creeps that find some sort of pleasure in watching a pixelated bum going up and down on the screen.

I mean, porn is better, really – hard to explain it to manginas, though.

So yeah, that's it – let's all get rid of self-entitlement, and call the BS out when we see it. I think if what will really make modern gaming shitty, is not lack of Mario games, but the situation when you'll walk into the store, and instead of exciting stuff, you'll get titles like "Ballbuster: STRONG WOMYN" and "Grand Theft Auto: Ghetto twerking".

Acts of terror, PS4 and Warhammer assholery

Journal Entry: Wed Jun 19, 2013, 2:17 PM
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You know, with all the terror acts, with the NSA wiretapping scandal, it's really hilarious to look at the down-to-earth truths of life.

Now, let me start off with the fact that I just don't give a shit about wire-tapping. It amuses me, mostly, that people were so naive to think it wasn't happening, or I dunno, not on the scale it did - if it did. Because in the end, all those systems are nothing without the person sitting before the monitor and reading, listening, analyzing.

Last week I was at an event,, Wallstreet style, if you get my drift. I was invited as press of course.

It was really early in the morning, so I was groggy, yet trying to dress and gather my stuff as quickly as I can.

Here's the deal - I'm always carrying weapons on me. Gun and two knives, that's a bare minimum. Sometimes a telescopic baton if I go biking. I don't even think as I holster them.

However, I once had an unpleasant experience of going to a governmental structure armed and had a whole lot of trouble disarming with the security, who refused to take my weapon, and etc, so I don't take guns whenever I go to meeting at government and administrative place. But, with private business, this was never an issue - usually they don't have heavy security and checkups at their offices for reporters, so I got used to that. Same goes for most hotels and expos, where conferences are being held.

But, for some reason, this precise event had really tight security. Metal detectors, and something really new and unavoidable - the airport-like X-ray scanner for bags! I saw the scanner before I entered the building's lobby and pondered. Problem is, that while all my shit is legal for concealed carry, I could still be turned away. It wasn't an issue of getting in trouble, but an issue of "Sorry sir, no weapons allowed inside, and we can't take your weapons for storage, because we have no jurisdiction of keeping them either. So, go away". That was the most likely outcome.

HOWEVER, I needed to be there..

So, I put all the shit in my bag, and decided that I should at least try. Maybe make some scandal if they refuse me, press on the fact that my license is fine and they're obliged to let me in.

In any case, I pulled the most indifferent brick-face I could, waited for a que of other people to form between the metal detector gate and scanner, and strolled in.

With all the flair of fucking Neo from the Matrix lobby scene, shoved the bag into the scanner, and prepared to look the security officer in the eye as I walked through the detector, when...

When I realized that none of the two guards even looked at the scanner's display as the bags rolled on.

Nobody gave a shit, they looked the other way even when the scanner beeped at the people's bags. I just took my shit and went inside.

What was this story about?

It's about the human factor. Human factor is why wire-tapping isn't a scare. Human factor is why terrorist acts happen in plain broad daylight. The amount of experience I've had with it grows... It's easy to abuse, the carelessness we have. But maybe it's for the better. However, now I'm fully aware how stupid people that flail and cry WRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRYYYYY are. I mean, fuck all the stealth action and Bourne movies. Smuggling guns in a meeting involving heads of multi-trillion businesses is a no-brainer.

For some, THAT - and not your porn being monitored by teh gubbrnmint - should be actually scary.

***

Despite the workload, my creativity is rolling this summer like shit ain't funny.

What's in the works for summer?

Psychological horror game-like concepts in the vein of my latest "Cagehead" deviation. I'm recently on a horror kick, so expect gore, blood, and deviancy coming up.

A really grating THANK YOU picture for my recent 600k milestone - Imperial Guard and Krieg fans in particular beware, you might want to skip this one.

More cyberpunkish concept art, possibly including vehicles and enviros. The current ressurection of the genre I feel in the video-games, and a "cleaner" aesthetic in such stuff like Watch Dogs, Deus Ex: HR, Remember Me and Syndicate really set a trend of a new wave of cyberpunk aesthetics and narratives, fit to better suit our modern times. I'm gonna ride that shit too.

So, overall - an increase on concept-ish stuff. I'll be true to staying out of any matte-painting business, but plan on improving my textures and build.

In literature - original sci-fi story currently being written, some 40k fanfics planning done. And another venture - I'm prepping a sci-horror game design document, which would allow me to work even more closely with concepts, want to embark on an ambitious and long-term project of designing a full-scale look for a game. Characters, monsters, weapons, vehicles, environments and supportive objects. Also, audioblogs - hadn't forgotten them, looking for a good theme.

***
After E3 dust had settled, I think I'll be abandoning Microsoft with it's beautiful controller, and trying out what PS4 offers. You'd ask why? Well, not for the reasons others do. Online DRM checks and used game politics don't faze me. But what DOES faze me, is the alleged "cloud rendering" support that Microsoft wants to introduce and swivel developers towards. The idea that some portion of the games mechanics and graphics are rendered in Microsoft's cloud servers, not on the local Xbox One machine.

I can state, that putting heavy-duty tasks in the cloud, in the present day for consumer-based services that require minimum latency, is INSANE. Cloud is good, from a consumer point of view, for getting your emails, storing data. But synchronizing graphics rendering between a local machine and a cloud server, especially in case of a possibly unstable connection and need for immediate feedback - no, not now. Not untill we have secure, lighting speed fibre networks all around. This will be pretty much catastrophic if they try to push it out now. Anyone remembers OLive? Yep, that cloud gaming service?

How well did that work?

So, I'm pretty much swayed to the Playstation 4 at the launch of this nextgen. In a few years, when all those Xbox One issues get sorted, the bugs and bad decisions cleaned out, I think I'll try it out. Mostly in the light of the impending VR set, Oculus Rift and Kinect integration that might - or may not - finally allow for a plausible virtual reality experience.

***

Speaking of hardware... My anxious anticipation of the spring-announced mystery Wacom "mobile-tablet" had been crushed to the ground with the grim reality. Wacom failed to make a mobile tablet for professional designers. Instead, they released a new penabled display in the Cintiq series - Cintiq 13HD. It's a slimmer, portable verison of the oldie Cintiq 12, and purportedly, quite a swell one, but... It's not the actual mobile computer with pro-grade pen technology that I hoped for.

However, there still is hope. Samsung is rumored to launch a successor to it's Galaxy Note 10.1 somewhere around winter 2013 - a bigger, 12-inch Galaxy Note 12.0, with a HD-display and Wacom digitizer analgous to that of of the Note 10.1, which is, in my experience, fast, responsive and sensitive enough for professional artist use. A downer is that it would still be an Android device, since the platform lacks pro-software aside from Autodesk Sketchbook, but a Windows machine would be possibly too heavy and energy-consuming for a comfy use as a truely portable device. So, I'm personally holding my fingers and waiting to waste some money on that beast.

And meanwhile, decided to go fully wireless with my peripheralls - order a bluetooh Logitech keyboard with backlight, a new wireless Razer mousey for the Starcraft sessions, and some audophile grade headphones, AiAiAi TMA-1 that I hope would soon arrive at my doorstep)

***

This is why I find the WarHammer fan-community largely ridiculous: comments.deviantart.com/1/2635…

Some kid - this one :iconnightfang1994: -  looses his shit over a picture I drew, because the SUPREME OVERLORD OF INTERNET ruled that one cannot make fun and hate art of the Angry Marines fagmeme.

I don't even know at this point. Picture is old. The meme is old. Nobody, but the newfag fanbrats give a fuck. And of course, he absolutely ADORES Mr-Culexus's art. I mean, that guy too, had stagnated in his cesspool, the only thing I don't get, why are all his fans so fucking annoying years after this all lost it's relevancy? I mean, all Culexus' fans got some sort of a stick up their arse and bad eyesight, too.

Not saying I'm done with Warhammer, like many. But I'm at the point where I just want to lift my hands up and say: "Whoah-whoah-woah, kids. I do Warhams art and fiction, but I'm like, by myself. I'm not with ya, get off my back".

I mean, I was always sort of a white crow in the WH fancommunity. Drew shit nobody else did, had my own vision of the setting, crapped on fan-rules and lore, didn't respect the common ettiquitte, didn't respect the "approved artists". And as a result, no "good" warhammer artist gives me a hand to shake. Quotemarks on the GOOD, because that's debateble. Well, who cares? Just to show that nerds are the worst. Same people run around yelling how this and that is shit, how Twilight is evil incarnate, how Modern Warfare is the stupidest game, but dare you touch their My Little Pony, Angry Marine or something else.

It rains slobber and drool.

Suffer and bleed

Journal Entry: Tue May 21, 2013, 12:45 PM
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Today, browsing the news, I found a rather tragic one. Apparently a man commited suicide in Notre Dame in Paris: www.independent.co.uk/news/wor…

Dominique Venner was an award-winning French historian, journalist and essayist - he also was a former militant of the far right armee secrete, and later became a European nationalist before withdrawing from politics to focus on a career as a historian. He specialized in military and political history. At the time of his death, he was the editor of the La Nouvelle Revue d'Histoire, a bimonthly history magazine.

 On 21 May 2013, Venner committed suicide by firearm in the cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris, which led to the evacuation of the cathedral. He had been a militant opponent of the legalization of same-sex marriage in France. Only hours earlier, he had left a post on his blog calling for radical resistance to the new law. He had written, "An infamous law, once passed, can always be repealed. It will require new, spectacular, and symbolic actions to rouse people from their complacency... We enter into a time when words must be backed up by actions." According to the rector of Notre Dame de Paris, Venner had also left behind a letter for investigators.

Of course, Monseuir Venner won't rest in peace, so it's silly to wish him to do so. I can only tip my hat and offer a commentary on this, as I think I'm qualified to do so.

Before I proceed, though, I urge my readers to check the Independent's article on the happening. Or rather, check the comments - the mass of them cheering this man's death. The death of a man that the commenters equate to Hitler, Goebbels and other, history-approved "monsters", while he was just a writer and journalist. Cheering, making fun of his decision to destroy himself, and calling others that share his opinion to partake in suicide.

These are the same people who cry when gay teenagers kill themselves over facebook drama and write their congressmen to impose anti-bullying acts.

Thing is, funny enough, earlier this day, before I ever learned of this unfortunate event, I got a peculiar message in reply to my previous post about Tsarnaev brothers. This time I WILL NOT protect the person's anonymity. Originally, upon receiving the message, I had no plans in dragging it to the public eye, because it's one or many, but because I got it not long ago before this worldwide news story that essentially is about the same topic, I will. Here it goes:

:iconmosobot64: - If ever a way is found to turn Russian nukes against your country, we ought to ought to use it. Your people divided the world, and now you justify mad bombers from your piece of shit country!?!?

I hope you do your fellow countrymen and the rest of the world a favour and kill yourself, you piece of shit.
comments.deviantart.com/1/3717…

If you notice, this message is in no different in glee and intonation that the commenters offered for late Mr. Venner there.

I really don't like to drag this to myself. But on the other hand, usually the only thing we can speak more or less objectively off, is ourselves.

I've struggled with suicide due to sickness, physical pain and lack of any positive prospective in my life. I've attempted it, and probably didn't put enough heart into this attempt. The fact that upon introspection, I didn't put all of me behind it, moved me to realize that I hadn't considered myself all that hopeless, and it gave me an incentive to drastically rearrange and improve my life. In the world of today's whimps and bitches, pretty fucking amazing, considering that throught this period of self-resussication I was told to kill myself over and over again untill I grew desensitized to it.

Well, almost desensitized. I'm desensitized to when it's directed at me - but I feel for other people going through similair shit.

I cannot vouch that Mr.Venner got death threats and was egged to commit suicide. Probably not, he was going from some other point - and I'll talk about it later. What worries me is that his suicide act could be used to push other people in our movement down that path. Not like Venner did, out of belief - but out of lack of hope, desperation and fear. The modern softcore-Nationalist movement is rather whimpy and sensitive, and the worst of all - pessimist. Then, on the other hand, do we need people who can be pushed to suicide through ostracization and realization of failure?

I would really like to say - no, good riddance. But then, considering my past experience, I'd be a hypocrite.

I must say that I respect Mr. Venner's decision. I don't necessarily agree with it, but he's right in one thing. It's time for action. It's unfortunate that his route of action was self-termination though. It's unfortunate that he believed in some innate goodness of his opponents, in that his opponents actually follow the ideals of tolerance, equality and professed love for mankind. It's unfortunate, that they don't really, as these comments show.

You see, for if it was a pro-nationalist, traditionalist law that's been passed, a "racist" agenda going in the country to deport all immigrants, and some gay fat lesbian Negroid killed herself in protest, there would be no questions asked - everything would be repealed and the majority would be issuing a decade-long apology. But Mr.Venner's suicide will not achieve that - most likely he won't become a martyr, but a hanged man to be poked with a stick and laughed at his embarrasment in death.

Your opponents will never cut you slack. They'll never offer you dignity, no, not in your last moments, not after death.

I learned this. When you are defeated, the only thing that can save you from utter defeat, is retaining your life. The biggest gift to your opponent that you can make, is to die. While you live, you have a chance for vengeance, at least. But when you're dead, you're just that - dead. So staying alive is a small victory amidst it all.

Mr.Venner, unlike the scum of earth clapping at his death, had a belief to die for. To bleed for. His ideal in his country, men and culture. None of the snivelling faggots would put that on the line. Because they don't have it. They won't die for diversity, for vibrancy, for equality, social justice and gay rights. But they WILL kill you - if not directly, then by breaking your will. That's the difference.

It's a white man's burden, to die for abstract ideals and put life aside for death that is meaningful.

But now, you don't need to die for your views, beliefs and goals.

You have to KILL.

And I will stand by this. Self-sacrifice -  well okay, please do it, just take as much bastards with you as you can beforehand. That's what I decided, if I ever get so low again. My enemies won't get nothing good and positive out of my death - no, my death for them would be grief, and pain, and total ruin. That's what your opponents should know. That your death for them is worse than your life. They should fear your death, not cheer it. They should know, that my death equates terror.

This idea pretty much transformed my outlook, made me stronger and desensitized to the shit I've sometimes encountered. I'm the one that's in charge and power despite the Orwellian totalitarism. I shouldn't have MY life ruined by my enemies - I should resist that, and ruin THEIRS. That's the rule of war. War isn't won by the deaths of your soldiers, it's won by the deaths of the enemy, and that's the ONLY way it can happen. And the least you can do, therefore, is to stay alive. Never assume that the enemy would care for your, that it would see you as anything but a target.


That's how terrorism is born. While people go around say that terrorism should be stopped, they spark it with every action. With every little comment such as the dance macabre on Mr. Venner's fresh grave. You should at least understand this. Terrorism, despite the fact that we all dislike it when it's directed against ourselves, is a perfectly plausible and correct reaction to being denied your base goals, to have your beliefs outlawed, and your existence degraded. I hate Muslims, but I understand them. We're on different side of the fence, but I understand where they come from. And when your life is threatened, terrorism should be employed.

At this point, we on the far-right, white nationalists, are pushed to terrorism, very fastly. And I say, while personal responsibility is uber alles, there is nothing wrong in providing what is expected of you. It's the same shit I'm always telling my fellow WN's - academia and good manners won't save your ass when you, a heretic in this modern crusade, would be dragged to the stake to burn for your sins of "white privilege" and "patriarchy". What will save you is a gun, bullets, a bomb and a knife. Keep them close.

Nationalists shouldn't kill themselves - sorry Venner - we should kill our enemies. There's not much of us. Let our enemies commit suicide if they wish so, they'll be doing the job for us.

So, if you ever feel like you're way past your line, and this is it... Don't waste your life, a precious self-aware white life in vain. Make it count for the rest of us. Make them suffer and bleed.

Make them suffer and bleed.

Good job, Tsarnaev Bros

Journal Entry: Wed May 15, 2013, 9:18 AM
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This might be some old news, and a bit late overall, but I think this event had to be addressed fully.


The Boston Marathon bombings.


The current disposition of the story is as follows: two brothers Tsarnaev of Chechen origin moved to Kazakhstan, then to US. Gained citizenship as political refugees from the bloody Russian regime, got college grants as sportsmen, lived in the US for some time – the older even married an American wife. Their family was also scattered – father stayed in Dagestan.


Few years ago, they traveled back to Dagestan for unknown reasons, and Russian intelligence that tracked their online activity had alerted the FBI for possible muslim radicalization of these people. The American intelligence briefly looked into it, found nothing more and got no more feedback from the Russian side.


Then, they made bombs out of pressure cookers and blew up some bystanders at the Boston Marathon, because holy jihad.


I actually nearly peed myself with excitement when I heard about this and followed the story. It's sweet, sweet as fuck justice. I'm sorry, my American friends – but I'm glad this marathon got blown up to fucking shits and pieces. Call it schadenfreude of the worst sort, but you deserved it.


You see, you shouldn't pity yourself and US citizens in general over this, because what happened is classic Russian Roulette, sorry for the pun. It's silly to believe that if you load a gun, put it to your temple and pull the trigger, and if the bullet is in the champer, it won't blast your brains out. That's what Americans do.


The US had been toying with islamists since the dawn of time. The US actually has an interesting dualism when it comes to muslims. I'll tell you the legend. If the muslims act in a way that is detrimental to USA interests, they're terrorists and towelheads, axis of evil, blah blah. If the muslims act in a way that is beneficial to US geopolitical goals, they're "rebels", "freedom fighters", "separatists" and basically the nice guys that want democracy and friday BBQ and a Chevy. Real red-blooded good guys.


This has been the case with Chechens. The Chechen insurrection since the 1990s had been a fuse that was slowly burning and from several perspective points, believe to be a detonator to crumble Russia further down. Let's be realists – despite everything, the NATO (and so, US) strategy had always been about minimizing russian influence in the post-soviet Europe and restricting the state from going back to a local superpower, for geopolitical and economical reasons.


Caucasus states, their instability, are a convenient barrier between Russia and Central Europe/Middle East, a demarcation zone that prevents the growth of Russia, as state. The Caucasus region, basically, is a collar around our necks. That was always understood by the West. Therefore, the region's instability played nicely into the US foreign strategy concerning Russia. If these states – Chechnya, Ingushetia and Dagestan – are clusterfucks, they're unsafe for Russian military, and therefore, no placing of strategic weaponry can be achieved by the Russian state there, because they can be seized by the so-called "rebels".


If you inspect it closely, the shakes and shudders of the islamist Russian republics coincides with the movements on forwarding the anti-missle shields. It's a tricky game of tactics, but the base principle remains – move the shield closer to Russian borders, destabilize republics to prevent Russian forces by moving their weapons on points where their proximity would overpower the shield.


So, what's this about, speaking simply – the NATO block loved the Chechens with a deep and hot love. Being a part of the military in this region, I can testify this on any holy book – I've seen weapon and tech shipments that the Chechens couldn't get nowhere in Russia. Won't say they got it from Americans, no... but from their allies. The financing of the wahhabism movement came from many sources, indeed, and western ones were among those.


In this light, such events such as Britain and other western european countries taking wanted Chechen, Ingush and Dagestan criminals and terrorists under their wing, grants of asylum and so on, comes as no surprise. And the media... of course the Western Pravda hailed them as heroes and rebels.


As a journalist, I've experienced that. If one would to open any american, british, or german publication on such disastrous terrorist acts such as Beslan, Nord Ost, Domodedovo bombings, the Moscow subway bombings, you will always see one thing – justification of islamic terrorists.


Before analyzing the event for what it is, a terrorist act, any media reaction towards muslim violence in Russia, is this – "Chechnya for decades battled the federal forces in a struggle for an independent republic, only to be quashed by Kremlin's iron-fisted enforcer Kadyrov. Fueled by the bloody history, where Stalin had displaced millions of Chechens during WW2, Chechen separatists long sought independence from the russian state – and the federal retaliation was nothing short of brutal. Thousands were displaced, killed, Grozny leveled... even still, the proud elders of Chechnya try to honor the ways of their fathers".


This isn't a glimpse of history. The prevading message, the ONLY message that the West ever gave, is that the Russians are evil empirialists oppressing a little peaceful republic and stomped down on the budding flowers of democracy, so whatever the Chechens do, its JUSTIFIED BECAUSE RUSSIANS ARE BAD AND TREATED THEM BAD. Oh, and condolescences for the victims, btw. Good riddance, russkies.


Chechens were the US' governments little monkeys – far away, scarce, but a good little schtick to poke the Russian bear with it and keep it occupied. The GOOD muslims, you see.


But as with Afghanistan and every other Middle East project, the roosters came to roost. Or what's the saying?


Because there is no good or bad muslims. No tame, "your" muslims. No "you'll do some rebel fighting for me cuz we have common enemy" muslims. There's the muslims – and you. Separate.


The act of the Tsarnaev brothers are an epitome of this simple thought. They were radicalized and left to feel just in their hate for the kaffirs. They were supposed to blow up a Russian marathon, of course – and the world would cry a bit crocodile tears for the victims, and then join the chorus "but it's because they were oppressed!".


But a glitch happened. They blew up their benefactors. Or is it not a glitch? Because that often happens with muslims. They're not your soldiers, your team. They have their own team, and that team is called "kill the whitey christian fucker". They wouldn't discern between American and Russian, because in their eyes, we have more common with each other than you think.


I really wish we could deport all the Chechens, Ingushes and Dagestanians to UK and US. Just imagine all the diversity, all the vibrance. Imagine how good it will be, for they will be safe from us merciless russian slav beasts. They'll all be yours to cuddle and train to do the "roll over and die" trick. It would be glorious.


So, I commend the Tsarnaev brothers. I really do. I'm only sad that they hadn't killed as much americans as they planned. You'd ask why I say such horrible things, on an american site? I reiterate – sweet justice. Maybe, just maybe, this will wake the West up. Make it understand that you can't play with fire, and with one hand shoot the terrorists, and with the other – give them bullets.


Of course, it will fall on deaf ears. Right now, studies are being wrote, about "what did we do wrong? Why didn't they play for our team? How do we make chechens hate Russians more than us, and not let this repeat itself?". Studies to explain how Tsarnaev brothers' "violent" past in war-ravaged Chechnya afflicted them and made them lash at the beloved American dream.


No one would stand up and say: "you know, it's partially our fault".


Well, as a Russian, I would. As a person, who had a pretty solid chance of being gunned down or blown up by a fucking Chechen scumbag in Grozny's area, I would. Would anyone cry for me? Doubt it. We, federal forces cogs, are just a faceless oppressive mass of opressors, indeed.


So, it's your fault. When it was the Moscow subway, it wasn't of any concern, right? Just freedom fighters fighting for freedom, the way they can. Not a senseless act of violence, nooooo, there was a grain of common sense there, assymetrical warfare, all the jazz.


Do I have pity for the Boston bombing victims? Zero. Logic and pity don't go well together. And fuck your victims the way ours were fucked. The only voice here that matters is our voice, the Russian voice, and I'm gonna say what all of you pussies would never say and shield your pathetic ears from hearing:


Good job, Tsarnaevs. Good job.


I hope you left the pressure cooker bomb blueprints for the others.


It would take a lot more blood than was already spilled to teach the West to not to raise killers and naively believe they won't come for you in the end. It would take more terrorist acts to teach the USA that a muslim terrorist is a muslim terrorist, and not Play-Doh to mold to your objective.


If it was in my power, I'd start a Chechen enrichment program for the whole fucking world.


Because everyone needs some freedom, Chechen style.