20`000 Years In Sing-Sing

20`000 Years In Sing-Singⁱ is as tediously insufferable a piece of socialist pro-state / anti-human agitprop as ever could be devised.

Every tired trope of sovieto-fascisto-rooseveltism is in there : far from "work made man" (in the theoretically-etherated presentation of that discussion) rather "there is no viable alternative to work, not for anyone" -- because (obviously) "everyone's really the same, interchangeable, equivalent and fictitiousⁱⁱ" ; then "no manⁱⁱⁱ means anything except through the others [and we plan to control that through]", the "warden" says ; and then he turns around and attempts to sell the water he stole from the man whose house he set himself on fire back to him, at the "cheapest" price of all : that man's own soul.^iv The trade goes through, too -- apparently the injuns are dumb enough to be still buying them blankets, in 1936 as well as they did back in 1639. What's a few years! Coupla hundred of 'em's nothing compared to 20`000, which is what this Reich is apparently dreaming of. The other's thousand wasn't quite enough dream for all the ever-inflationary needs of all them countless many dreamers in the bureaucracies, as it turns out.

There's little more past that ; a few scenes scattered as if by accident here and there that work in a sort of neorealism avant la lettre, but they're about as inconsequential in the pile of vomit as Ed Wood's occasional strokes of genius.

George: I had 'em, Jerry. They loved me.

JerrY: And then?

George: I lost them. I can usually come up with one good comment during a meeting ; but by the end it's buried under a pile of gaffes and bad puns.

Anyways, I proclaim you The Country Of George ; that's what it's always been, and that's how it'll die : buried, under its own dejected secretions, by itself. But I... I salute you, Country of George ; and then I wipe my ass on you.

Buh-bye!

1. 1932, by Michael Curtiz, with Spencer Tracy, Bette Davis. [↩]
2. Which is, of course, to say constructed ; and guess what protestanturd is disavowedly dreaming itself a hunchback demiurge in that... construction. [↩]
3. Females not simply omitted, but actually excepted. In the bovine sea of socialist equality the females are nevertheless still better, and also worth something in themselves -- depending on whether you take an exo- or endo- view this is either because they naturally contain a part that can indeed live in the purely vegetative manner that exactly maps on the only conception of human life available to the socialist state ; or else because, well... they can quite naturally be traded down the line (speaking of which : why do you figure the "law enforcement officer" also known as the East Area Rapist had the females tie up their male "partners", rather than the other way around ?).

   So, obviously enough, the cuck "sacrifices himself" so she can "go on with '''her''' life" etcetera etcetera. It's the only decent thing to do! And you should see them cucks' pained mugs when I use mine, too! [↩]

4. No, seriously, access by Connors to Connors' own girlfriend is to be doled out by "the warden" ? And the idiot (as depicted) sees exactly nothing wrong with this, like any bou ever since the invention of gelding. Pshaw. [↩]