Return to Paradise

I just watched [the first 10 minutes or so of] a piece of filthy obscenityⁱ such as only Hollywood can produce. This "Return to Paradise" thing isn't a film, in any sense and to any degree. It's merely a loose collection of footage produced by copywriters with the obvious, overpowering, only goal of pushing their inept, stolid propaganda.

Return to Paradise isn't a film ; but I don't mean that in the sense "Little White Slave Girls 6" isn't a film. Actual pornography is not generally obscene, but the exact opposite of obscenityⁱⁱ : it is plain, direct, flat and unsophisticated. No, I mean that taking the continuum between the level 0 of experimental cinematic productions by teenagers in the school media lab and the level 10 of humanity's highest cinematic achievement, this crap is a solid negative four. Pr0n hoovers around three to four as a general rule, but positive three to four. That's a difference, as lengthy as practicallyⁱⁱⁱ speaking the entire scale.

The story goes something like this, if you must know : a bunch (three) of dudes hang out in South East Asia, where the narrative spun by the broken brains behind their blind eyes is that they're having a total ball, with "all the hot chicks" and so forth. The reality, as middling well depicted by the actual footage, is them being the useless faggots they would have been at home, in the den or on the couch anyway ; the only female in sight is an ugly, lanky crossdresser that lures them into an ambush. The film correctly displays the fluid nature of trade and war^iv, but to little benefit. Years later, a femme carpet muncher hunts down two of the three (she's a lawyer, you see, women can now be lawyers and shit like that) to present them with the prisoner's dilemma : either they go back to a South East Asian jail for a few years, or their third friend gets it. Here's a sample of dialogue :

- So, if you don't go back, Tony, Lewis will hang.
- I'm sorry. you just can't come out of nowhere and tell me the bottom's dropped out of my life and I got a week to brace for the impact.
- I'm sorry, Tony, that's exactly what I am doing.
- You know, the only thing i don't understand, how come it took you guys two years to tell me this.
- Lewis never mentioned the two of you, not when he was convicted two years ago, not when he was sentenced to death months ago. It was only last week when his final pardon appeal was rejected. I found a detective. The second he found you, here I am.
- You gotta understand, this isn't just about me, all right? I mean, like anybody, I have a lot of responsibilities. I'm engaged. I have a fiancee. I want to start a family.
- A family's wonderful. Lewis would like to have kids, too. If you can postpone having yours for a few years, he'll be able to have that chance. I'm staying at the stanhope. could you call me there tonight?
- All right, I will. Thanks.
- Thanks, Tony.

Almost every single line of this bit of spew is offensive to both sense and taste, not to mention refinement. For one thing, how dares this inept wench call the man "Tony" ? The word is,

Have I ever had you before? No ? So you don't call me by my christian name.

Fucking remember that, we're not all friends and we sure as fuck ain't all equals. Mr. Croft will do just fucking fine. Except not for her, you see, not for her aims and purposes, the obnoxious cocktease intends to insinuate herself into a familiarity she is actively avoiding the yoke of. Psssshhh.^v

For another thing, why is this schmuck using the "nobody told me" argument ? Put any... how the fuck do they call the peons in your culture ? In Italian it's operaio, "un lavoratore dipendente che esegue un lavoro manuale o tecnico, subordonato". In Romanian it's ten thousand different words, like for whore, and with good reason. How do you say scum in your language ? Because if you don't, you're all scum, and for this reason.

But moving on : put any peon on the spot, what they'll say is exactly "I wasn't told". As if that changes anything, or carries any import. Obviously, in the slave cave it does, once we're all in agreement that the peon will do anything he's told to do, with no mind of his own, then the excuse becomes a reinforcement of that principle. "[I am not a human being nor do I carry any sort of claim to sovereignity so therefore the only reason I didn't do what you wanted me massah is that] no one told me." If that's the context, what the fuck bullshit is this, peons encounter no prisoner's dilemmas in their life. That is the very fucking point of peonry, you trade everything else, of as little value as it all is to the neuter gendered, for this particular immunity, of immense value to the same neuter gendered.

And for yet another thing, what is this weak ass "oh, it's not just me, I have a fiancee" bullshit ? Really, that's his argument, his stock in trade, the "responsibility" of ... what exactly, of showing on time at the wedding ? What sort of man is this ?! That's his contribution, supposed to excuse him from manhood ? Guess what, if that's what you got the girl will do fine without you. Even better than with, most likely. What the fuck happened to "No, because I am way the fuck too cool to give you whatever the fuck you happen to want" ? What the fuck happened to "Let me see you try and take it!" ? Where's the traditional "We can trade for it, maybe, but a) you must bring superior value, by a sufficient factor, and b) you're giving up your ass qs even before we can have this conversation, Beth." ? What's this dumb bitch think this is, white dumb bitch day over at True Romance ?

It ain't white dumb bitch day. Not today ; not any other day. Nor is this offensive clod of dreamer phlegm a film. The end.

1. 1998, by Joseph Ruben, with Anne Heche. [↩]
2. Obscenity is not "what shews the cunt", ye uncultured gits. Obscenity is that which offends the senses, taste or refinement.

   The plain display of copulation, sexual fluids and organs scl is not offensive to your senses. If you believe it is, your mental condition is called neurosis, with possibly a borderline component. If it actually is, your mental condition is very serious schizophrenia, no question about it - that it may not have declared itself otherwise does not change the fact that your head is so severely malfunctioning as to erase any barrier between you, your numerous imaginary friends and invisible aliens. The kiddie fuckers are much healthier, mentally, by comparison to your otherwordly issues. In any case, a sense of being offended by naturalia is the very definition of disease, there is no escaping this simple fact.

   Meanwhile the productions of the progre are obscene without exception : socialism is the religion of the stupid, and its cultural productions universally offensive to any sense, any taste and certainly all possible refinement - therefore the pointed definition of obscenity, without remainder, with no exception and no redeeming value whatsoever. If cultural production were a sporting event, you'd have like in any other sport better teams and worse teams. The libertard team however isn't as much a team as a collection of arsonists and hooligans, whose goals are to assault the refereee and burn the stadium. "Fault" doesn't begin to describe their activity, for which reason they may not either claim to engage in sports, or show up at any stadiums. They belong in the field, in line with the oxen, plowing. They do not belong among civilised people, where such fragile china as sense or taste may be encountered. [↩]

3. I am aware people sprinkle this word around meaninglessly. I do not. I mean exactly this : while the scale may well be 0 to 10, you're in no particular danger of reaching even a 9, whereas you're not in my judgement too likely to be as bad as a bunch of teenagers. So practically the scale is one something to eight something, which is about the same distance as from negative four to positive three-ish. See ?

   Now go forth and sin no more. [↩]

4. Just in case you were thinking your ancestors "bought the land fair and square" from the Indians : do think again.

   And in case you think "make America great again" does or could possibly mean anything but "we have to get back to our mercantile roots in the sense discussed by MP" : you're entirely a figment of someone else's imagination, with no more direct claim on existence than the best imaginary friend anyone could ever hope for. [↩]

5. The way this works is that if the woman wants familiarity with men, she has to submit. Not just sexually. If she doesn't, she starves. If she does, yes she can go around calling people "Tony", but is also having Tony's children, because that's her curse, which cements her dependency : now she's going to be very fucking nice to Tony, lest he stops bringing her food, in which case she starves, but only after spending months listening to children dying of hunger. You have any fucking idea how that sounds ?

   No, this isn't "some sort of nightmare". This is how life on Earth works. Here :

   Juana Azurduy Bermúdez fue una patriota del Alto Perú que luchó en las Guerras de independencia hispanoamericanas por la emancipación del Virreinato del Río de la Plata contra el Reino de España y que a la muerte de su marido Manuel Asencio Padilla asumió la comandancia de las guerras que conformaron la luego denominada Republiqueta de La Laguna, por lo que es honrada su memoria en la Argentina y en Bolivia.

   [...]

   Tras hacerse cargo el general José de San Martín de los ejércitos que pretendían liberar Perú, la estrategia de la guerra cambió. San Martín quería atacar Lima a través del Pacífico, por lo que era necesario, para poder desarrollar su estrategia, la liberación completa de Chile. Esta decisión dejó a la guerrilla del Alto Perú en condiciones muy precarias; Juana y su marido vivieron momentos extremadamente críticos, tanto que sus cuatro hijos mayores murieron de hambre.

   [...]

   Juana Azurduy está nuevamente embarazada cuando combate el 2 de agosto de 1814 con Padilla y su tropa, en el cerro de Carretas. Y Juana Azurduy sufre ya los dolores de parto cuando escucha las pisadas de la caballería realista entrando en Pitantora. Luisa Padilla, la última hija de los amantes guerreros, nace junto al Río Grande y experimenta ahora en brazos de su madre los ardores de la vida revolucionaria.

   Do you know what hambre is ?

   You have no fucking idea. [↩]