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Wednesday, 17 August 2011

Racist Men Have Tiny Penises


I can’t help noticing that when things get tough, economically and socially, people turn into total pricks. Have you noticed that? You go on Twitter, or look at the newsfeed on Facebook (which I am no longer on, due to the investment of Goldman Sachs), and someone that you thought was a reasonable person, with well thought out views, posts something like:
“I says hang all the little bleeders, and their liberal sympathisers”
“Send in the fuckin’ army, rubber bullets too good for them”
“Is Aushwitz still operational?”
That sort of thing. Fucking hell, what has happened to you? You do realise that you are guilty of a horrendous projection of self loathing, don’t you, you droopy old ballbag. I don’t have any imagination to work my way around this issue – I know – kill ‘em, and if you have a spare bullet aim it at my ability to invoke critical thought. 

And then, predictably and inevitably, out come the subtle, and not so subtle, racist black culture references, most notably in the U.K. from renowned badger hating historian and all round Twix eater, David Starkey.

 So, if you are exasperated with bigoted, shit-brained autobots ruining your day, a piece of research I stumbled across whilst working as an intern at a Helsinki newspaper in the early 90s, may put that smile back on your face.

A Finnish psychologist, I think he was called Erkki Krypti, certainly something like that, was trying to get to the bottom of why people are racist, and he found the answer not at the bottom, but at the cock.

Apparently, without exception, racist men have tiny cocks. I’m not even talking about below average, the kind that you could save up, go to a back alley in Harley Street, and get a snip that could give you an extra inch or two. No, we’re talking the kind of atrophied nob that would make a newborn look like Ron Jeremy. The kind that would have Michelangelo’s David parading around the showers at the gym, with his leg notched up on the changing room benches, towelling down his sack, crack and jack for ten minutes, until he was certain everyone in the room had seen how bloody massive it was, before talcing it for a further ten, to satisfy any new comers. 

Between 1972 and 1989 Erkki studied 123 men, all of which were sectioned to his care, after being found guilty of racially incentivized crime. I used the word incentivized there to hopefully provoke a response. What a load of bullshit that word, and others like it, is. When are we going to draw the line at putting ’ized’ at the end of a word? OK, I’m tangentalizing, let’s endize this sentence.

He was looking for psychological problems that may be underlying the problems with racism and he found three unifying factors.

1)      They were all dicksplashes. 
2)      They were all raised by dicksplashes
3)      They all had unbelievably tiny willies. 

Erkki theorised that atrophied genitals in Caucasian men led to a mutated form of the Oedipus Complex. These men, as adults, maintained the genital profile of a very small child, and therefore the mental framework and IQ of one, and viewed the black man as an adult, being as they are, generally, well endowed - which is anthropologically proven (black men too, can be racist, and if you pull down their pants, no doubt Erkki would suggest you will find a tiny lovepump). 

Unfortunately, no one seemed interested in his findings and he took to the bottle, discredited and ostracised from the mainstream psychological community. His ideas became more outlandish, as his bitterness, and alcoholism, spiralled out of control.

At the time of his untimely death, he was also trying to establish whether there was any link between veganism and early experimentation with sodomy, lesbianism and small faces on large heads and pigeonholing and sudden acts of violence. He died in 1995, horribly beheaded by a vegan lesbian. 

Nevertheless, Kryppti should be commended for having the bravery to publish his findings on the links between racism and the minuteness of the male genitalia – and remember – every time you hear or see a racist thought or action, it is performed by someone with a wee, tiny worm in their undercrackers. Somewhat comforting.

Saturday, 6 August 2011

The Beginner’s Guide to Film Symbolism – Part One – El Topo

With my attempt at becoming a professional screenwriter now looking as likely as a Cliff Richard sex tape I’m redirecting my energy into providing you with a definitive guide to film symbolism. 

Over the next few weeks I will dissect some of the oddest films in existence, hoping to shed some light on why the hell that goat is in the background, eating that hat, and why that actor is always facing south. 

Although this guide is directed primarily towards film connoisseurs it could, reluctantly, also be of use to the following:

  • 1)      People living with pretentious cunts who make them sit through hours of arthouse crud. Check out this guide and the next time you’re watching something you can come out with something to blow their socks off, right before you let off a fart grenade and go down the pub.
  • 2)      Film-makers. If you are struggling for funding, or have been lumbered with a dogshit script, don’t worry! Just fill your film up with this stuff and you’ll never go hungry at a film festival again.
  • 3)      Movie reviewers. Just remember to hyperlink this page.
  • 4)      Pretentious cunts.
To my mind there is no greater place to start a guide to film symbolism than the work of hatstand Mexican maverick Alexandro Jodorowsky. He may never have had the mainstream appeal of Fellini or Lynch but Jesus did he pack his films full of weird shit. 

The beauty of applying symbolism to film is that, by definition, it never has to be explicitly explained on screen. In Jodorowsky’s case I’m not entirely convinced he could do so off-screen either, but if we examine the man and his movies we can have a good stab at it.

Tomorrow I’m going to watch El Topo for the 102nd time, and write up notes as I go - which I’ll transcribe in suitably blog-sized instalments. Expect the first one on Monday.

N.B. the guide has had to be put back, owing to the rioters running off with my motivation.