Alex Jones interviews Mike Cernovich, who reports that Trump is about to fall via frame-up if he doesn’t act fast.
I don’t know that much about the minutia of everyday details at the White House, but I did wish Trump had fired all the Deep State operatives on Day One.
Certain voices have been calling for his impeachment since before he even took office. Once he is completely surrounded by backstabbers, all that is needed is the manufacture of some sort of new scandal to take him down, if Cernovich is right.
Anyone who has visited either Virtual Pulp, or my old Two-Fisted Blog very much, knows that I’ve been a fan of Len Levinson’s work going way back. I’m honored to have him as a guest blogger today.
After attending the Windy City Pulp & Paper Convention on 4/23/2017, I found myself wondering what exactly is pulp fiction anyway.
I’ve written 83 published novels under 22 pseudonyms. All generally are considered pulp fiction so I should know what it is by now, but never thought much about definitions or codifications before.
When the expression “pulp fiction” first was used, it referred to cheap paper used in magazines publishing that kind of fiction. But precisely what kind of fiction was it? What is the difference between pulp fiction and ordinary fiction?
Raymond Chandler said, “I guess maybe there are two kinds of writers: writers who write stories and writers who write writing.”
First and foremost, pulp fiction tells stories. That means they require plots. But not just any old plots. Pulp fiction requires gripping plots. Something vital must be at stake in every story. Suspense is the name of the game. Pulp fiction is not about people sitting around having extended erudite conversations about Heidegger’s theory of being. Pulp fiction usually is about life or death situations, or the possible destruction of a city, or even the vaporization of the entire planet by an evil genius.
Villains must be truly villainous, not nice guys confused about moral issues, although villains certainly can be multi-dimensional. Heroes or anti-heroes must be brave, tough and resourceful, despite occasional human failings. There are exceptions to every rule but exceptions do not invalidate rules.
All characters must be finely etched and real. They should come to life and jump off the page into the reader’s lap. Their dialogue should snap, crackle and pop like Rice Krispies. No meandering pointless conversations allowed. Every word must advance the plot.
Regarding locales, the reader should feel that s/he just parachuted into a scene which s/he can vividly see, smell, hear and feel.. S/he must know precisely what’s happening at all times. But scene description must not be overdone. Good pulp fiction strikes the balance between too much and too little.
Pulp fiction should grab the reader by the throat with the first sentence, not on page 31 after lengthy scholarly expositions. Pulp fiction writing must have momentum, not meander lazily along like the Swanee River. The reader should feel as if s/he just stepped onto a fast-moving train. Ideally, the reader will become so immersed in the story, s/he will feel disoriented and won’t know where s/he is when looking up from the page.
Pulp fiction can be hard-boiled crime investigations, visionary sci-fi extravaganzas, sinister spy thrillers, supernatural fantasy melodramas, sword-swinging pirate bloodbaths, shoot-em-up westerns, bone-chilling horror tales, razzle dazzle action-adventure sagas, bloody exploding war novels, and even desperately passionate Harlequin-type romances. I suppose pulp fiction can be about anything, the weirder the better.
But the stories have got to move. They’ve must be humanly real no matter how offbeat the story. They’ve got to draw in the reader. They’ve got to totally fascinate or enchant.
I don’t intend to denigrate regular fiction. I’ve read and enjoyed most of the classics. But pulp fiction is like a punch in the mouth. It’s got to knock you out. You shouldn’t be able to put a pulp fiction book away and go to bed at night like a normal, decent person. It should excite your imagination and make you forget about going to bed. It should turn you on.
LEN LEVINSON is the author of 83 novels written under 22 pseudonyms, published originally by Bantam, Dell, Fawcett, Harper, Jove, Charter Diamond, Zebra, Belmont-Tower, and Signet, among others. He has been acclaimed a “Trash Genius” by Paperback Fanatic magazine, and his books have sold an estimated two-and-one-half million copies. Many of his novels presently are available as ebooks by Len Levinson.
Because we have let the leftist long march through our institutions (public and private) go unchecked for so long, now that some on the right seem finally ready to push back, the irony and absurdity in our culture has been stripped naked for most to see.
Of those actions Trump has taken that would benefit Americans, the most momentous are being obstructed by Marxists who swore to uphold the law, but do so selectively at best. And, of course, they ignore the rights of American citizens they are paid to protect, in order to champion the causes of foreign interests they obviously consider more important.
This surprises nobody who’s been paying attention. Same with the Soros-backed crybullies who call themselves “anti-fascist” while demanding absolute conformity of thought and speech, and cold-cocking, pepper spraying, or throwing bottles at anyone with the audacity to debunk their Narrative.
From speech, to state-controlled compulsory indoctrination, to state-controlled industry, to progressive, graduated income tax, to civilian disarmament, these “anti-fascists” are in ideological lockstep with Mussolini’s blackshirts (and Hitler’s brownshirts too, in case you were wondering), but are too ignorant to realize it and too fanatically Dunning-Krugered to ever honestly examine the pertinent facts. (They even dress like Il Duce’s goons.)
It’s no big chore to identify leftist hypocrisy in any arena, so I’ll skip over most of those to the post-Obama riots that seem to be the new fad.
Even before the election, rabid SJW mobs incited violence with impunity at pro-Trump rallies, and successfully blamed their victims, with the collusion of the lapdog media. But now, for the first time in their cancerous existence, these pampered, privileged, entitled cowards are encountering significant resistance.
Their outrage is as delicious as their ineptitude. Now that they’re getting their asses kicked on the streets, what can they do? Scream “fascist!” and “racist!” and “Nazi!”even louder and more often? Ooh, ouchy. We’ve never had to weather such a devastating onslaught before. Guess we’ll have to surrender.
Actually, what they’ll do is rely on Soros and their other sugar daddies to exert pressure, via the politicians and courts, to rig the system even worse than they already have, eradicating the 1st Amendment at gunpoint.
If we let them.
In places like Berkley it’s already plain to see the police have been weaponized to do the left’s bidding via the typical selective enforcement of the law, “making examples” of those who defend themselves while ignoring the crimes of the provocateurs who instigate the violence.
This absurd theater is wonderfully personified by the commie skank porn actress who bragged on social media what a badass she is and all the scalps she would take at Berkeley. But to paraphrase Apollo Creed’s corner man, her would-be victims didn’t know it was a show; they thought it was a fight. At least, one of them did.
Moldilocks has obviously watched too many action movies (as has everyone who thinks women in combat is a good idea), assuming the pixie-fu fighting skills she inherited by osmosis from the Great Social Justice Spirit would allow her to vanquish any puny male who got in her way, because vagina.
The meme material she provided us is rich and deep. Her heroic quest for equality ended upon her first taste of a knuckle sandwich, and she quickly fell back on her true Grrrrl Power. That’s right: she concocted a narrative to make herself sound like an innocent victim of rabid male aggression, assuming white knights both inside government and out will come rushing in from all directions to protect her from the consequences of her actions and punish the man who took her pretensions of equality at face value. A woman’s true inherent superpower is the ability to get men to fight her battles–even when her war is against men in general.
If you run into an SJW going forward, remember to analyze how they compare with Fascists/Nazis on major policies like speech, “gun control,” public education, taxes, state regulation of businesses, etc. Because, as they are so insistently informing us, unprovoked violent attacks are perfectly acceptable as long as you define the victim as a “Nazi.”
The recent escalation in organized violence has led some to finally realize that the United States of America is in a Cold Civil War. Just as the Cold War never resulted in an atomic Holocaust with the Soviets, so this Civil War may never turn hot. But that’s an extremely optimistic assumption. Prepare yourselves accordingly.
Due mostly to my schedule, my blogged reviews of this blood’n’guts war series stopped at #4. But my negligence stops, now!
Master Sergeant Mahoney and Corporal Cranepool have just returned from their attachment to a French unit liberating Paris. It was supposed to be cushy duty, but only the end of it was cushy–in the arms of some French floozies in a fancy hotel.
The Sergeant and his sidekick are back just in time to meet Charlie Company’s new C.O. Captain Anderson is a young, inexperienced officer, but one of the good ones (a rare combo, in my day). They’re also just in time for one of Patton’s “recon in force” missions, to push across the Moselle and keep the pressure on the Germans.
Patton is out of gas for his tanks, and frightfully low on artillery, ammo and supplies. He assumes if he is able to stir up some action, Ike will be forced to send him what he needs, so Patton can push on to Berlin and finish the war before Christmas. But Ike isn’t having it–all the supplies will be diverted to Field Marshal Montgomery, who is tasked with taking Antwerp.
(Historical note: Yes, Patton’s 3rd Army could have reached Berlin and ended the war before Christmas of ’44 if their supplies hadn’t been cut off. Also true that all those resources were given to Monty–somewhat less than a daring or decisive general–for Operation Market Garden (of A Bridge Too Far fame), which had less chance of success and, even if successful, would have had a lesser impact on the grand strategic situation. Most likely, Patton’s onslaught was intentionally delayed in order to give the Red Army time to capture the half of Europe which had been promised to Stalin by FDR at the Yalta conferences.)
So the 33rd “Hammerhead” Division conducts a river crossing at great cost, since they didn’t have much in the way of artillery support, and their men and boats are chewed up pretty bad by the German defenders. Still, they now have a beachhead from which the Wermacht has to throw them. Mahoney’s regiment bears the brunt of this counterattack.
The Americans are in a bad position, but Patton doesn’t like surrendering ground once he’s taken it.
This installment in the series could launch a character study on the sort of men who populate the officer corps of an army. Whether a commander wants to make a name for himself, or simply doesn’t want a sub-par evaluation, it is their troops who are used like cannon fodder to enhance or maintain their egos.
Mahoney himself has some moments in this book in which he demonstrates more humanity than is normal for him. (Also, in this one we are introduced to PFC Butsko. I can’t help but notice the similarities between him and the platoon sergeant of The RatBastards–also named Butsko.) Still, this is a transitional phase for Mahoney, and the real plot dynamics focus on other characters.
The centerpiece of NASCAR’s Speed Week–the Daytona 500–just took place. We’re considering a Speed Week of our own right here. Or maybe a Speed Month, anyway.
I have been informed that Virtual Pulp is lacking a review of Cobra, and this simply will not do. So without further ado…here it is:
I would call this action movie a “guilty pleasure”…but I’m really not all that guilty about liking it. When it first hit theaters in 1986 I watched it for every weekend pass while it was still showing at the Cross Creek Mall in Fayetteville. As soon as it came to video I bought a copy, too.
Cobra has a lot in common with the prototype renegade cop flick Dirty Harry. Obviously they’re both about cops who teeter on the edge of vigilantism, ridding civilization of scum that the inept “justice” bureaucracy lets terrorize decent people. But it goes even further than that. Both Harry Callahan and Marion Cobretti have the same partner…at least he’s played by the same actor. Last name is Gonzales in one, Garcia in the other. Remember the villain from Dirty Harry? Same actor plays Cobretti’s nemesis inside the police force in Cobra.
And now for what, more than anything else, made me a fan of this classic action adventure cop movie: Cobra’s ride–a chopped and channeled ’50 Merc lead sled. This is my kind of cop.
“I know what you’re thinkin’: ‘Did he drop two gears or only one?’ Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kinda’ lost track myself. But seein’ as how this is an American V8, the most powerful engine in the world, and would blow your doors clean off, you’ve got to ask yourself one question: ‘Do I feel lucky?’ Well, do ya, punk?”
Okay, we can all pick this scene apart if we choose to. There are continuity errors throughout–bulletholes in the trunk that disappear in the next shot; cars doing over 110 MPH on the freeway in one shot, doing 15 on a back street in the next… Obliteration of the laws of physics: a burst from a submachinegun causes a pickup truck to flip bed-over-cab and explode… And in typical Hollywood fashion the best car in the movie is needlessly destroyed. But it’s still fun while it lasts. (Despite some continuity problems of its own, the best car chase ever filmed is probably in another cop flick called Bullitt.)
Another similarity to Dirty Harry is in the blatant attempt to generate memorable lines. Cobra has a few of them, but not all of them are as bad as its reputation suggests.
Now, I agree that “I don’t like lousy shots” isn’t terribly noteworthy (and there is some even worse dialog at the end). But “Go ahead–I don’t shop here,” is hilarious. Stallone even pulled off “You’re a disease, and I’m the cure.” It’s when the marketing people decided to put it on the posters that it became groan-worthy. “Crime is a disease. He’s the cure.” Ugh. Puke.
Did you catch that Sly said, “Drop it!” right before ventilating the ugly psycho at the grocery store? Me neither, the first time. Bang! Bang! Bang! “Stop, or I’ll shoot!”
Trivia note: When Sly Stallone began working on the treatment that was later developed into the Cobra script, the title was Beverly Hills Cop. The suits wanted a comedy though, and the ideas diverged from that point.
An Cosantoir is the official magazine of Ireland’s Defense Forces. Sgt. Wayne Fitzgelarld, the editor, has recently reviewed Hell & Gone.
From his review:
“Henry goes for all action with his ‘Dirty Dozen’ like squad sent on a daring mission in Sudan, with a final battle that reminded me of Black Hawk Down.
…The ending of the book is explosive; you are in the thick of it.“
Nice to find out that folks across the pond appreciate it, too. My thanks to Wayne for taking the time and effort to share his thoughts. His complete review is available in An Cosantoir, or on Hell & Gone‘s Amazon page.
And speaking of that, Hell & Gone has been picking up some reviews lately. In fact, it has received more reviews in the last couple months since the BookBub promotion than in all the preceding years. Wish I had done this much earlier…but then, I did almost everything wrong with my first few books, and squandered or missed out on numerous opportunities out of my marketing ignorance.
Don’t forget: the first two Retreads novels are available as Audible downloads as well as E-Books and paperbacks. If you’re like me, then listening to a book is the best way to “read” these days, with our busy schedules and drive time. Hell & Gone is narrated by David H. Lawrence XVII, and Tier Zero is narrated by Johnny C. Hayes. Both voice actors have their own style of delivery, and the contrast is interesting. I’m toying with the idea of recording the third book in the series, False Flag, myself. Don’t know if/when I’ll get around to that, or if it’s a good idea. We’ll see.
Anyway, if you can’t spare the time to read the first two normally, buy the Audible versions and let us entertain you while you work, drive, or whatever.
Comic book fans are among the most loyal fans. Few things run them off of their favorite books. For some reason, Marvel decided to do three of the most likely things to cost them fans: remove their favorite characters, tarnish the histories of those characters, and insult the fans who complained. The latter proved most insidious because the insults accused fans of racism, sexism, homophobia, and bizarrely resorted to stereotypes about comic book fans.
As Marvel did this, their new politically correct fan base proved not to be fans at all. As Marvel published book after pandering book, the books enjoyed initial high or good sales only to drop most of their audience within the first quarter. The prime example of this is the recent Black Panther book, which lost 70% of its audience in one month.
As far as I’m concerned, they have permanently lost me as a reader. Both DC and Marvel have gone too far off the deep end to ever get me back. They may dial it down a little bit for a while but I don’t believe for a second that they’re going to abandon trying to push The Narrative.
A lot of people in 2017 are aware of the deceitfulness of the mainstream media, academia, and Hollywood, and the duplicity of those in government. But it would no doubt surprise them to learn this is nothing new. It’s been going on for generations–but with no alternative media to blow the whistle on them.
Before “triggering,” “microagressions,” and “safe spaces” came out of the SJW vocabulary to infect our everyday language, one of the old-school terms left-wingers liked to throw around was “McCarthyism.” Ironically, the term is used to describe what they (leftists/SJWs/feminists, etc.) do to people who challenge their Narrative. Use your own money to support a cause they don’t like: admit in private that you believe in creationism; wear a T-shirt that they determine “sexist; or even just make a “dongle joke” to a friend; and they will launch a witch hunt of their own that won’t stop until you are fired from your job, or worse.
“McCarthyism” got it’s name from Senator Joseph McCarthy, who noticed our government being hijacked after WWII (actually, it started well before that). It turns out, with declassified documents and a non-hysterical examination of the facts in retrospect, that he was absolutely right in his whistle-blowing. (Not that truth matters to those who craft The Narrative.)
What McCarthy began to uncover was an orchestrated effort to usurp our Constitutional republic. But hell hath no fury like a conspiracy exposed, and it is the Deep State’s M.O. to assassinate the character of anybody who might be taken seriously, who would shine a light on the pattern and connect the dots.
Coincidence theorists, of course, will find some excuse to reject what stares us in the face. And the speaker in this video, himself, might be one, despite all the dots he highlights, just begging to be connected.
Stefan Molyneux has really done a good job assembling a lot of pertinent information. He gives an in-depth background so we have a context to put it in and compiling it into a pretty thorough presentation. Then he breaks down what McCarthy and his contemporaries actually did. If you’ve got the attention span, this is well worth the time it takes to listen.
When the audience is young, suspension of disbelief is much easier. I watched some abysmal movies and TV shows up into my teen years that usually didn’t bother me.
Whether the movie is good or bad, though, the fight scenes are almost always laughable. Once you begin paying attention, it’s hard not to notice the cheesy aspects–like Western Union Punches, for instance.
See if anything bothers you about the clip below:
Now, granted, this fight scene is from a comedy. But what’s sad is, films we’re supposed to take seriously are just as bad.
Notice the Adam Sandler character, who has been a brawling goon up to this point…how he just stands around waiting to be hit. It’s in the script for him to lose the fight to Bob Barker, so he just plays crash dummy.
Maybe I’ll post an example of a good one some day, if I can find one…
Red-Blooded American Men Examine Pop-Culture and the World