I shall not stop shitting on you until you are submerged in my sweet smelling excretia

Another remix, certified dolomite. Wait til your mom heads to the store then bump this on full volume. WAIT! compose yourself first, I played this to billy ray cyrus and the niggas heart blew up like a muslim at an airport!!!! are you ready? you sure? GO!

Threat

Is it piles dr? im afraid not, its dolo!

yeah saba, thats why your ass be so sore. My blog leaps from snow covered peak to snow covered peak, its ascent ever higher. All the while your pitiful site sinks into the bog, hopeless and pathetic, soon to be a grave without a headstone.  Thats why you mad. Im krs and you Pm dawn, and your ego is the front row. Youll never be dolo

Soulstrut cowards predictably impressed by dollop of crap

Fatback has a thread on the board feting the newest entry into the michael moore oeuvre, Sicko. He lauds the film in spite of, or more acurrately because of, it being nothing but a sequence of anecdotes selected to tug at the heart and evade the brain completely.

He also dismisses attacks on moores character as being somehow irrelevant. Im afraid that when you ask the audience to believe the anecdotes presented are representative, as moore does in this film, then your character becomes very important. There is no reason to believe any of the anecdotes are respresentative, to the contrary, since statistical evidence is obviously vastly superior to anecdotal evidence, when an anecdote is presented in absense of statistical support it is safe to assume the reason is that the statistics do not support the impression the film is attempting to convey, the anecdote being willfully misleading.

One such example is the gentlemen who, according to the films narrative, is left to die thanks to the evil insurance company refusing to fund the treatment which would save him. The implication is that if he had lived in france, canada, or the UK, and not the US, he would have got the treatment. I consulted motowns files and could not find a single reference to the course of treatment as described in the film, from this I can only assume it is highly experimental and unrecognised. Considering the repeated reluctance of government healthcare systems to offer tried and tested treatments, nevermind incredibly experimental ones, it is similarly safe to assume that none of the other healthcare systems profiled in the film offer it(an anecdote of my own: Im currently in the UK as my legions of fans know and right now the NHS is being sued by an azheimers charity because of the NHS’s decision to stop the provision of a range of azlheimers drugs because they cost the equivalent of a whopping $5 a week to provide). The film cynically relies on the tragic nature of the gentlemens circumstance to consume the viewers attention and paralyse their critical faculties, a tactic which evidently worked with the sloth minded fatback(though in his case I suspect flashing a few bright colors on the screen would have produced the same result)

All this film can reasonably be said to prove is the following: there are some people who have bad experiences with the american healthcare system, there are some people who have good experiences with contrasting healthcare systems. This is the total sum of what the evidence allows us to conclude. It is a truely worthless excercise.

I just discovered laserwolf is old as hell

Soulstrut is crawling with bridge club ballers like this poor fellow and that weezing ruin of a man rockaedlic. These guys may have been the shit back in the day; cruising in their thunderbirds with the foxiest mamas this side of mississippi, their pompadour boufants standing like granite in the face of breeze and gale alike. The sad fact remains that the hands of time have washed themselves of these moth eaten men of yesterday. Its my time now, dolo’s time. You tuned in and turned on and now its time to drop out. Pitting yourself against the young bull dolo in a vain effort to reclaim the thrills of youth, to inject some color into those faded memories, is less than worthless. Enjoy the time you have left, dont waste it trying to fuck with the D.

The rest of the cowards arent much younger, the board is crammed with more over 30’s than a peter engel production. I see now that it is this too and not just their profound anti-intellectualism which begat their enmity for me. A key component of the images they attempt to craft for themselves is youth and my posts, bubbling over with the vitality and strength of real testosterone charged youth as they are, only gave lie to these efforts.

Dolo hereby challenges any soulstrut coward to a race

Any place. Any distance. Any conditions. Any discipline. I am unconcerned whether it be by land, sea or air. On foot, On horseback, In boats, In hovercraft. Whatever you cowards prefer.

The Hook Up can’t keep his woman in check

Kid is soft shell with a caramel center. The line “I oughta go upside your head woman, ’bout this mess that I heard” in a song the hook up was listening to was heard by his girl and evidently inspired her; not liking the mess she was hearing she put the hook up in his place with concise callousness. She did not ask if he minded turning it down, she did not inquire if he could please listen to something else. She barked “Dont play that song again if Im in earshot”. WOW.

He outta have gone upside her head, but predictably complied like a bitch and asked if she wanted a backrub. Even more pathetically he later felt compelled to issue a statement on domestic abuse when he played the same song on his radio show, no doubt fearing his girl might be listening. This buttercup is timid. Here is how it wouldve went down if some skank ever tried to pull that shit on dolo:

Skank: Dont play that again when im in earshot

Dolo: shut yo mouf hooeeeeee

Skank: who you calling a hoe?

Dolo: ur moms

Skank: youre an idiot

Dolo: and youre a woman, we’re even. Except we not because dolo is balling out of control

Skank: that didnt even make sense

Dolo: I know, IT MADE DOLLARS

Skank: im leaving

Dolo: tell the next in line to come through on yo way out hooooeeeeeeeee CHEA!

Something to melt the knock off chinese mp3 players you busters fucking with

Clearing out shit on the computer and across this gem of a remix I dropped some time ago. The chopping chopin stays chopping like whoa man, that shit set fire to my brain

Feel the beat

Peep then envy, fuckers

Soulstrut cowards are well versed in the argot of fronting

Broken beat IS house. It is a fake genre. Just one in the legion of sham genres assholes concoct so they can imagine themselves as being on the pulse, in vogue, part of a movement, connected. In two weeks it’ll be named something else and in four weeks there will be a subgenre called brokeback beat with figures such as bapt, fatback and Dr. Wu at its forefront.

Dolo will run up in their function and fuck them in the ass with a glowstick. Faggots.

I blog with the strength of ten tigers

Sabadaba is a bitch as well as a proprietor of flop sites and author of flop threads(his last received a paltry 4 replies, 3 of them his own. The average amount of replies to my threads is over 100). Still, in my absense, as obviously unable to shoulder the burden as he is, it falls on him to carry the fight against the socialists who wish to destroy western civilisation and defame patriots such as George W and Big dick cheney.

In this then I support him, and wishing to offer an incentive to improved performance, extend the promise to link to his site from my blog provided he equips himself well in his battles with the nouveau nazi’s. So saba, hunker down and think of all that traffic you could have waiting for you.

Dr.Wu and laserwolf: Death hustlers

I have documented the extreme narcissism of these two individuals previously on this blog, but the vulgar and morbid character this narcissism has recently assumed warrants further comment.

Acting on the bold, and misplaced, assumption that anyone cared laserwolf explains his recent abense from the board as owing to his involvement in a project entitled the ‘iraq names project’. A more apt name for this vile enterprise would be the ‘Arent I compassionate project’ or the ‘Look how much I CARE project’. I tell you, if the vintage of this veuve clicquot werent so rare i’d vomit.

The project involves the scrawling of the names of the coalition war dead throughout portland and the maintanence of a dreary blog to promote it. The project’s blog – authored by ole girl feelings, laserwolf – is pretty opaque on the actual objective of this project, muttering off handedly in the about page of honoring sacrifice. Please, the only people this project is intended to honor are those involved in it. It is a collection of egotists piling up the corpses of the dead as a monument to their own great depths of empathy and then asking everyone to applaud.

These are the same people who implicitly label the living troops in iraq as war criminals day in and day out. Castigating them for being there illegally(I dont know why, theyre doing the jobs iraqi’s wont do), assuming as accurate every allegation against them, and condeming them for every civillian who inadvertantly dies by their hands whilst staying silent on those force in iraq who actively target those civillians, the forces which the troops are endeavouring to defeat.  

Despite all this, the moment one of those troops dies — the moment their memory can be put to use, all the slurs laid against them are forgotten. What was once an agent of imperialism is now to be remembered with reverance and thanks. This is the conemporary liberal mindset in a nutshell. They only care about you when they can play your champion. In the years before 1967, when israel was considered a weak and imperiled nation, the left was a resolute ally. Almost immediately after the six day war however, when israel had asserted itself and it was no longer possible to portray it as a besieged victim in need of the lefts ‘courageous’ protection, the left became its cheif accuser.

Try to breathe in the following without gagging:

My neighbor, who is an Iraqi Jew, said something that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I was explaining the process and, out of the blue, she said, “It will be great when we start writing all the names of the Iraqis who have died.” Can you imagine that a project like that? It would have to be a global effort. Incredible.

There in not even a flicker genuine empathy above. The image of thousands dead is brought to his mind and his first thought is what a rad art project it would make. This is the kind of person who makes remarks about wishing they were around when vietnam happened because theyd love to have been involved in the protests. There are alot of these kind of people, far fewer are those who express the desire to have been around before it happened to try and prevent it. It’s clear it’s the warm glow of ‘fighting’ injustice and suffering that they are interested in, not stopping it. 

They’d never say it openly but these people are seceretley glad we went into iraq, they hope the death toll mounts and mounts, they get a hidden thrill at ever piece of bad news. This is because the worse the war is the more virtuous their tawdry, insincere, superficial gestures of opposing it can be made to look. This lamentable project is naked self obssession clothed in tattered robes of synthetic compassion and the bastards involved may as well be honest and write their own fucking names around portland.