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Comrade Lady Michbeth Forms Youth League To Fight Thoughtcrime

20 May 2014 @ 09:30

On certain days, when I lack the inspiration to write anything that is worthwhile reading, I contemplate just quoting from news reports about the current Regime, followed only by excerpts from either Nineteen Eighty Four or Brave New World. I mean, the fictions of George Orwell and Aldous Huxley are becoming non-fictions at a relentless and steady pace. That we have reached such a point in America is truly Tragic.


Last Friday, Comrade Lady Michbeth spoke at a Topeka, Kansas high school and, as The Blaze’s Peter Kasperowic reports, encouraged:

…students to monitor their older relatives, friends and co-workers for any racially insensitive comments they might make, and to challenge those comments whenever they’re made.

Ah!…Thoughtcrime, an Orwellian concept come to life in the former American Republic in 2014 A.D. [or, as it should be named: Year Five].

‘Have you got a spanner?’ said Winston, fiddling with the nut on the angle-joint.

‘A spanner,’ said Mrs. Parsons, immediately becoming invertebrate. ‘I don’t know, I’m sure. Perhaps the children—’

There was a trampling of boots and another blast on the comb as the children charged into the living-room. Mrs. Parsons brought the spanner. Winston let out the water and disgustedly removed the clot of human hair that had blocked up the pipe. He cleaned his fingers as best he could in the cold water from the tap and went back into the other room.

‘Up with your hands!’ yelled a savage voice.

A handsome, tough-looking boy of nine had popped up from behind the table and was menacing him with a toy automatic pistol, while his small sister, about two years younger, made the same gesture with a fragment of wood. Both of them were dressed in the blue shorts, grey shirts, and red neckerchiefs which were the uniform of the Spies. Winston raised his hands above his head, but with an uneasy feeling, so vicious was the boy’s demeanour, that it was not altogether a game.

‘You’re a traitor!’ yelled the boy. ‘You’re a thought-criminal! You’re a Eurasian spy! I’ll shoot you, I’ll vaporize you, I’ll send you to the salt mines!’

Suddenly they were both leaping round him, shouting ‘Traitor!’ and ‘Thought-criminal!’ the little girl imitating her brother in every movement. It was somehow slightly frightening, like the gambolling of tiger cubs which will soon grow up into man-eaters. There was a sort of calculating ferocity in the boy’s eye, a quite evident desire to hit or kick Winston and a consciousness of being very nearly big enough to do so. It was a good job it was not a real pistol he was holding, Winston thought.

Mrs. Parsons” eyes flitted nervously from Winston to the children, and back again. In the better light of the living-room he noticed with interest that there actually was dust in the creases of her face.

‘They do get so noisy,’ she said. ‘They’re disappointed because they couldn’t go to see the hanging, that’s what it is. I’m too busy to take them. and Tom won’t be back from work in time.’

‘Why can’t we go and see the hanging?’ roared the boy in his huge voice.

‘Want to see the hanging! Want to see the hanging!’ chanted the little girl, still capering round.

Some Eurasian prisoners, guilty of war crimes, were to be hanged in the Park that evening, Winston remembered. This happened about once a month, and was a popular spectacle. Children always clamoured to be taken to see it. He took his leave of Mrs. Parsons and made for the door. But he had not gone six steps down the passage when something hit the back of his neck an agonizingly painful blow. It was as though a red-hot wire had been jabbed into him. He spun round just in time to see Mrs. Parsons dragging her son back into the doorway while the boy pocketed a catapult.

‘Goldstein!’ bellowed the boy as the door closed on him. But what most struck Winston was the look of helpless fright on the woman’s greyish face.

Tip of the fedora to Big Bang Hunter who, it sounds like to me, has pretty much reached his boiling point:

– So when all else is sliding down the piss hole thats Washington these days and your hubby is about as isolated and useless as its possible to be, whats a poor Fascist to do?

– Why set Americas children against their parents of course!

– I cannot wait until this anal-retentive Progressive Commie bitch is packed off to Hawaii for good.

Can’t blame BBH one bit.

So…what happens when your racially insensitive acquaintances refuse to admit their Thoughtcrimes? Does the Shrew-In-Chief want them then declared UNMUTUAL?

  1. formwiz permalink
    20 May 2014 @ 14:05 14:05

    SS-Obergruppenführer und General der Polizei und Stellvertretender Reichsprotektor Heydrich would certainly approve.

  2. Starless permalink
    20 May 2014 @ 23:42 23:42

    “Maybe that starts simply in your own family, when grandpa tells that off-colored joke at Thanksgiving, or you’ve got an aunt [that] talks about ‘those people,’” she said. “Well, you can politely inform them that they’re talking about your friends.”

    And maybe grandpa will show you what the back of his hand looks like, up close and personal, when you get lippy with him.

    For the party that is constantly trying to scare the public into believing that conservatives want to come into their bedrooms and tell them what to do, they sure do like to lecture us about what we should and should not talk about around the dinner table.

    • thecampofthesaints permalink
      21 May 2014 @ 07:10 07:10

      Don’t they now?

      One of my Nieces and her husband walked out on my Father and Mother when my then eighty-six year old Dad used the term ‘colored’. But they sure cashed the check from my parents for Christmas. As you might expect, I rarely talk to her, my Godchild, and her Leftist Husband any more. BTW, they live in Hollywood.

      On Tue, May 20, 2014 at 11:42 PM, The Camp Of The Saints wrote:


      • Starless permalink
        21 May 2014 @ 11:28 11:28

        I also have someone like that in my family. She’s a self-righteous, knee-jerk Leftist who’s a total bitch. She also gladly cashes checks from people she finds morally offensive, because she’d owed it, y’know.

        Oh, yeah, and then there was the friend of twenty years who more-or-less stopped speaking to me because I said most people voted for Obama in ’08 not because he was the most qualified candidate but because they wanted to be “historic” and vote for a black guy.

        Because the abstraction of identity politics is so much more important than long-standing interpersonal relationships.

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