Saturday Stinkers

 

100 years ago I was a voracious reader. My idea of the perfect Saturday morn was going out grocery shopping first thing with the wife. Then we’d go to the mall, and I’d go into the bookstore and she’d go do what she did.

One of my last forays into the bookstore was on just such a perfect Saturday morn. I figured I had the ‘new publishing industry’ figured out: 

• if a book was written by a woman - don’t buy it. It will be about menstrual feminism and vagina vengeance, written by a man-hating harridan
• If there was a dragon on the cover it was going to be about faggots or lesbians, not dragons
• Best to stick to historical fiction because it didn’t seem to attract queers and sexual degenerates.

So I spy this one that looked good - paperback SF yarn about Wiccans. I didn’t know what a Wiccan was at the time, but the blurb about the story sounded legit, it was written by a guy (you could still safely assume genders back then) and it had a Hugo award.

So I go about my Saturday after buying it. Stop by the folks for coffee, home for chores, walk Sled Dawg Sally…and I get home, settle in for a read. Got my sammiches and tea pot ready…and it was me-time. Aaaaaaaaaand….

I get half way through the first chapter and I learned what a Wiccan was. The story’s about a tribe of them after the collapse of civilization. The tribe is run by fat menopausal cat ladies and junior girl bosses… and the cast of lesser characters are gay, soys, cross dressers and miscellaneous cretins and goofs. I got up off that couch, and threw that POS in the garbage. $8.00 down the chitter!!!

🤬

I go to the computer and look up the author and it turns out it was ghost written by a big fat sloppy old lesbian. You may not always be able to judge a book by its cover…but you can pretty much understand it if you know who the author is. The next trip was even worse. I was throwing away money; it was like the entire publishing industry went nuts. Even formerly ‘safe’ authors were starting to litter their novels with pervs, DEI’s and Powerful Women. I stopped buying books.

Awhile back I watched a spectacular documentary about WW2. It was very sparsely narrated, but it was in full colour and had lots of obscure footage I had never seen before. Most of it was candid - men, women, and children fighting to survive in war-ravaged Europe. They were serious people, too. Kids that hadn’t eaten in days, and adults who hadn’t eaten in weeks. Soldiers that wished they were anywhere else. They shot their enemies without remorse, they stood with their own to the point of death. But what really shocked me - was the complete absence of clowns.

There were no morbidly obese lesbians to be seen giving orders to subordinate soys. No prancing faggots, no purple faced rage headed women… None of the denizens of Clown World were anywhere to be seen. Yet they were everywhere during the Weimar Republic in Germany. When the SHTF…  there’s no time or room for eccentric, neurotic, or erratic people, I guess. I suppose there’s something good in everything… so if or when the SHTF, or it’s TEOTWAWKI or a financial collapse… all these people will go away… and Darwin and Murphy will have their day.  

I’m sitting here at Camp Le Filthie…and I really miss having a book to read. I think I may just make it my business to find a non-woke novel for my next trip. 

Cheers,

Filthie