Balenciaga/Adidas BDSM Ad Campaign Blows Up Into Unexpected Second Wave Of Awakening About Sexualization (and way worse) Of Children As War Lines Drawn Between Elite/Woke and Defenders Of Children
An article by Mickey Z. in 2015 exposed open pedophilia among revered beat writers and even I did not realize it. Before Wikileaks.
This summation is from Infowars. Using The Pi&$zzaga%$e word in the headline is problematic despite being accurate. Lots of programming in words like that and also in the name of InfoWars host. We have to operate between weaponized word spells, which is how I view the occultism of what we call “woke.”
Who else noticed how quickly sexualization of children became part of the “woke” spectrum—inside that whole tent? I don’t mean it was hard to “notice” this agenda being forced upon us wherever we looked.
Somehow or other, the Perfect People got to engage in open pedophilia promotion and keep the “moral high ground?”
By that I mean, they were the Federal Reserve issuing the bank notes. Who’s good who’s bad, who’s in trouble, who’s canceled, according to them.
Is Balenciaga/Adidas disaster the beginning of the end?
Are they trying to be ‘caught’ and put out of business to be relieved of their sin burden?
I don’t know.
But…it’s no longer, seems fair to say, “right wing” to rail against this vile cult. Most people left, right and center are now appropriately horrified.
The Waters We Swim In And The Writers We Were Told To Worship: Shock Waves Ahead
An amazing piece was written, in 2015.
The title: “Beat Writer Pedophiles And The White Male Leftists Who Love Them,” by Mickey Z.
This piece is brilliant, brave, and forensic.
One of the most incredible single articles I’ve read, I think. I’m just beginning to process it.
From Mickey’s piece, one of the clearest minds of her generation, Andrea Dworkin:
“Conversely, this related excerpt from Andrea Dworkin's memoir, Heartbreak, is humanity:
“On the day of the bar mitzvah newspapers reported in huge headlines that the Supreme Court had ruled child pornography illegal. I was thrilled. I knew that Allen would not be. I did think he was a civil libertarian. But in fact, he was a pedophile. He did not belong to the North American ManBoy Love Association out of some mad, abstract conviction that its voice had to be heard. He meant it. I take this from what Allen said directly to me, not from some inference I made. He was exceptionally aggressive about his right to fuck children and his constant pursuit of underage boys. I did everything I could to avoid Allen and to avoid conflict. This was my godson’s day. He did not need a political struggle to the death breaking out all over. Ginsberg would not leave me alone. He followed me everywhere I went from the lobby of the hotel through the whole reception, then during the dinner. He photographed me constantly with a vicious little camera he wore around his neck. He sat next to me and wanted to know details of sexual abuse I had suffered. A lovely woman, not knowing that his interest was entirely pornographic, told a terrible story of being molested by a neighbor. He ignored her. She had thought, “This is Allen Ginsberg, the great beat poet and a prince of empathy.” Wrong. Ginsberg told me that he had never met an intelligent person who had the ideas I did. I told him he didn’t get around enough. He pointed to the friends of my godson and said they were old enough to fuck. They were 12 and 13. He said that all sex was good, including forced sex. I am good at getting rid of men, strictly in the above-board sense. I couldn’t get rid of Allen. Finally I had had it. Referring back to the Supreme Court’s decision banning child pornography he said, “The right wants to put me in jail.” I said, “Yes, they’re very sentimental; I’d kill you.” The next day he’d point at me in crowded rooms and screech, “She wants to put me in jail.” I’d say, “No, Allen, you still don’t get it. The right wants to put you in jail. I want you dead.” He told everyone his fucked-up version of the story (“You want to put me in jail”) for years. When he died he stopped.”
The link, one more time, here.
So, we were mind controlled…even back then…even about writers we could not stand (speaking for myself?)
Yeah.
That’s how I learned never to criticize them. I was just a lower life form female, what did I know? They all believed women can not and should not write, more or less. That was the distinct impression I got.
Here’s a fleck of gold I am now recalling, it’s short:
Ginsburg adored Tomas Tranströmer’s poetry and wanted his poetry to be adored by Tranströmer in return. Tranströmer did not return to endorsement. It apparently upset Ginsburg quite a bit.
I was always proud of T.T. when I heard or read that but now it shines in a whole new way.
I hope you read Mickey’s piece and you can subscribe of course, to his always always excellent substack “Post Woke.”
How do you have “poets” who also happen to be pedophiles yet are “brilliant.”
It’s all starting to make sense, isn’t it?
Rock Culture And Notions You’re Not Allowed To Question
I always had, by dint of my rock past, to be subjected to beat writer worship, and within that, the epicenter: William Burroughs worship.
I dared rarely say a word against these Gods, and violence almost bristled in the air if one ever even dared think it, in those circles.
(By the way, the name is the same Burroughs as “Burroughs Wellcome” maker of AZT, now morphed into Glaxo after many mergers. This is my understanding. That Burroughs is part of that family. Am I right? Am I wrong?)
Burroughs worship came back to me again this past summer while in Spain, my son and I watched an episode of “Parts Unknown” about Tangier, and Anthony Bourdain made the whole episode a stage for Burroughs worship. I had hoped to learn about Tangier as I was considering moving possibly to Morocco.
I was crestfallen after watching, I think my son was too— but that was before Mickey Z’s work came to my attention. I hope they didn’t name any streets after this monster who went there and destroyed who knows how many of their boys.
Have I earned the word “monster” this time?
From Mickey’s article:
“The Italian school is just opposite, and I stand for hours watching the boys with my 8-power field glasses. Curious feeling of projecting myself, like I was standing over there with the boys, invisible earthbound ghost, torn with disembodied lust. They wear shorts, and I can see the goose pimples on their legs in the chill of the morning, count the hairs. Did I ever tell you about the time Marv and I paid two Arab kids 60 cents to watch them screw each other—we demanded semen too, no half-assed screwing. So I asked Marv: ‘Do you think they will do it?’ and he says: ‘I think so. They are hungry.’ They did it. Made me feel sorta like a dirty old man…”
—1955 letter from William Burroughs to Allen Ginsburg and Jack Kerouac.
I’m sorry.
I don’t want to talk about horror all the time. We have to get across this mountain though, over the mountain, and the mountain is on fire. We can’t go around, we have to go across and over.
All those years
I used to think heroin addict worship and apologia about a man who (if I’m not mistaken) executed his wife with a gunshot to the head while high, was the worst of it— the Burroughs worship. I was wrong.
Mickey Z is something way more important than “talented.” I’m rethinking almost every word I have ever used at this point, including “talented.”
We had a conversation recently and it is linked above, but the conversation was before I knew what Mickey had unearthed. Information comes maybe, when we are ready for it?
They’re Apologizing. Why?
I think Gays Against Groomers are brave and brilliant. I really admire the work they are doing.
Don’t get guilt tripped. Thank you to the late Andrea Dworkin for being decades before her time. I started to read her years ago and I realized immediately she was what we call a genius. Was she a “radical feminist?” I think she was a radical truth teller. And I remember when I thought she was “crazy,” just because the culture told be radical feminists were repressed.
I wonder if I will be left with a single handful of ideas, notions, thoughts, when I have completed my de-programming. I sometimes wish I could find the place inside my mind where no “popular culture” has ever been.
I am sorry about almost everything I thought I had figured out.
I was a goldfish, swallowing programming flakes on the water surface.
Hideously gullible.
But something else was there, with me, the whole time.
Celia! Wow...I am so honored and humbled by your kind words. Thanks for reading and sharing and re-sounding the alarm. My article is seven years old and I'd make some edits I wrote it today but the foundational premise stands and I'm so grateful that you're bringing it to new eyes and ears. Thank you again... 🙂
I'm thoroughly convinced that no one gets near power, fame, or money, without having some hideous skeletons in the closet that they can be blackmailed for. I may occasionally be wrong, but I will be right far more often.