Daily Stormer The Most Censored Publication in History
UPDATE: here’s the MP3 for the show. I come in at 1:14:00ish.
Hey, sorry about the late start here. I mean, you Americans probably aren’t even up yet, but I always try to get stuff up in the UK morning. But also, it’s Sunday, which is typically my most relaxed day. It’s not going to be relaxed today. Now I have to rush, when all I really wanted to do was lose at Gloomhaven.
I did a podcast last night and it ran really late.
Here’s the replay.
I come in at one hour and fourteen minutes, and then it goes on and on for a lifetime.
I was having fun and I don’t really do this very often, so I just kept talking. I also was mixing vodka with preworkout (it’s not something I would recommend, but it is one way to live).
I don’t read the chat during streams, so I’m not sure how it was received. I don’t really care. I’ve never claimed to be a serious talker. My personal interpersonal communication style is different than a podcast, and I’ve not really ever tried to get good at this. I might talk too fast or whatever, I’m not sure. I do this so rarely, I haven’t bothered to go back and listen to myself very much or improve.
I will say, I had a lot of fun.
It’s mostly taking calls and superchats and really just talking about whatever.
If I get invited back on I’ll go back on.
By the way, I was just joking about Dalton blowing me off. He called in and didn’t really get to talk. I was joking and I hope to do some gaming with him in the near future.
If people liked this podcast, I’ll also do this again. But I’m not planning on getting better at talking. I am planning on getting better at writing. That is a very serious plan. In fact, I’m going to publish a manifesto, the first half of which will be about why I hate Vaush. This is the new manifesto style: the first half of any serious manifesto these days is about why you hate Vaush, the fat pedophile.
This is the first sentence of my impending manifesto: “Much worse than his pedophilia, Vaush is fat and is a fake gamer. His gaming desk is a a gross piece of office furniture you would find in a dentist’s office – a very cheap dentist’s office.”
Actually, no wait – I’m reading Cormac McCarthy now because of an argument I had on a forum, and I’m writing my manifesto in that style:
A fat pedophile and a dentist office desk. Gray walls, rank carpet, a putrid smell of marijuana resin coated in semen. Faint screams from the basement. Children down there, more mature than their captor. A fake gamer. When a real gamer approached him, a Starcraft champion, he snorted, the fat man misunderstood the basics of political theory. The audience split. A broken mule could be heard moaning in the faint dusk of reddit. Not a mule. Something human, but less. The Starcraft player began to incite the mob against the fat pedophile. He’s a fraud. He’s been caught in a net of his own words. Gloomy attempts at rage, but the trap set had spring. He’s lost the crowd now, but the ranked Starcraft player struggles to keep hold. The nervous tick of the pedophile is slowed by the fat clinging to his faulty facial muscles and the Starcraft player’s rage boils up, tracking with the strained twitches. Communism has failed, he says, and you know it. You’re selling something worthless for a profit, never acknowledging the contradiction. A child’s scream, muffled by the barricades on the basement door, give the pedophile an alertness. His twisted form straightens and his spinal cartilage clicks, a rapid succession of muffled notes. The pale face contracts. You’re old news, Starcraft. Democracy is coming. Democracy is already here.
I’ve already given a review copy to Lauren Southern, and she responded by attempting to give me a blowjob. The experiences of Lauren Southern reviewing my manifesto is the second part of my manifesto. Here’s a taste:
The unnatural form of her face, the jagged edges. A Picasso painting come to life. Come to something resembling life and fueled by the ill-begotten vitality of others. A shape, distinct but out of focus. She moans as she bobs her head. But his member stays limp. Oral sodomy is a transgression, he says. And you are something else altogether. He remembers when she was younger, a chubby, homely thing, but something God had made. Now, she is something that she has made. A child god, believing she can draw a crayon image and make it come to life. It was her sister. Her sister’s ass on Instagram, the salivation, it broke her, so she broke herself. She puts on a Brian Adams song on her phone. Is this Brian Adams or Ryan Adams? he thinks. Which is worse? It’s unknowable. The rot inside her is something in between the two. Things happened before this. There were other days, better days. Before the manifesto, before the botched blowjob from the botched plastic surgery experiment. She makes a mess. Pulls and pushes things around. She leaves the refrigerator door open, spreads McDonald’s ketchup packets across the floor, leaves. She will be back, and then again, and then she will stop coming. The feeding on him will end, and begin anew on another man with another manifesto about the fat pedophile. East, West, and back again. Another bastard child or another abortion. Wandering while wandering is free.
What was I just talking about?
Oh – Brittany was a very gracious host. I don’t think any more women should be allowed on cozy.tv. But she’s great. I will do the show again.
I think there is a resurgence of anti-Stormerism because at this point in time the reader has not yet learned how to be victimized by stream of consciousness gibberish. And I think Elvis Dunderfhoff is going to be part of the throes of that transformation, which must take place. Daily Stormer is not going to be the structured news website it once was in the last decade. Cormac McCarthy posting is going to be at the center of that. It’s a huge transformation for the readership to make. They are now going into a post-quadruple irony mode and Stormer will be resented because Anglin thinks he’s clever. But without that illusory cleverness and without Cormac McCarthy parodies, Stormer will not survive.
I’m actually starving, frankly, so things are going to be even later. I guess I can order pizza, frankly. It’s an emergency situation.
Should I literally just do Cormac McCarthy posting the entire day?
No, I think I’ll put that off. I forgot how horrible this guy is. I only read like 30 pages, trying to sleep before the podcast. I’m not getting enough sleep.
