The Dragon

Once there was a peaceful realm of woodcutters and farmers. It wasn’t a kingdom so much as a loose collective, assumed by general consensus. Peaceful must always be understood as a relative term, as petty quarrels will always arise. Thus is nature and likewise the nature of man. Nevertheless, we may say that within this realm good will and honest toil to the general benefit of all prevailed. There were no princes or kings among them as there was found no need for these.

Life continued in this happy fashion for some generations. The inhabitants of the realm were content to apply their various talents and enjoy the fruits thereof; in short, to prosper. They did not concern themselves with those quarrels outside their realm and dealt in their own fashion with those which should arise from within. Their’s was not a paradise, for inequality and injustice still existed within their borders. Still, they had no need of code or statute; accepting that natural law is realized, for good or ill, as Nature will ever find her own balance. Thus was it that their society, while as imperfect as any other of man’s creations, was more just than that of all others.

As the virtue of their industry multiplied they became known to other realms. Their people prospered further from trade with those outside of their own boundaries. This indeed led to an exchange in human capital as well, for they welcomed those from kingly realms to join in their good fortunes. No titles did they wield, nor banners did they fly. Their home was known only as the land beyond scrutiny.

Kings and princes of other realms observed this fair land of woodcutters and farmers, and with time grew concerned that as the reputation became more broadly known to their own subjects, they should become aware of their rulers’ shortcomings. Among the various courts of these realms it was thought for some time that there should be a net benefit in the exodus of their people to this strange and distant land beyond scrutiny. However, over time they learned that the opposite was true. The tradesmen, artisans, the skilled of their populations were the ones to leave. As news of their successes in their new home spread back to their peers there were still more queuing to leave. Finding their extravagant treasuries sagging in tax collections, the kings and princes convened to plot a solution. Being over leveraged, they invited the money-changers to join them in forming their plans.

King Archos was the greatest among them and assumed the direction of their royal confab. With him was his chief money-changer, Neotoma, and the rest of his beady eyed associates. There were many ideas debated in this forum. Some suggested that they should combine their navies, or perhaps contract mercenaries and pirates, to disrupt their trade upon seas and lay blockades upon their ports. This led in turn to the idea that mercenaries might be employed to raid and pillage those lands, stealing their treasures and terrorizing their people. There were those who favored the approach of barring the exit of their skilled subjects and instead export their own human refuse as a burden to their economies. All of these ideas and more were found to have merit. Inevitably it was asked, “Why not do all of these?”

King Archos was the most shrewd of them all. All of the suggestions were sound, in his opinion, yet he considered that even with all employed at once they might only be setting themselves up for a prolonged battle. In the grand scheme of things this did not suit his ultimate objective. Prolonged battles are taxing upon the treasury. Further, and most importantly, a prolonged battle increased exposure of the idea that others might prosper absent the benign rule of their leaders. He alone saw clearly that this and this alone posed the greatest danger to their interests. There was still something missing from these plans.

After a time Neotoma cleared his throat and rose to address the assembly in his reedy voice. “You are all making this too complicated. What you need here is a dragon.” From the sudden murmur that arose from their number some were heard to ask out loud, “A dragon? What should a dragon accomplish?” King Archos, intrigued at this, rose to quiet the room.

“Please, my brethren. Let us have order”, he exclaimed, and turned to Neotoma. “Please go on, Neotoma. Explain.”

“Thank you, my liege. I and my esteemed colleagues may, for a nominal fee of course, conjure a dragon which we shall loose upon these simple peasants. Their people may already know of our navies and armies. If we should employ those, or even mercenaries under no banner at all, they may learn more of them and imitate these methods. With their demonstrated industry and known resources they will in little time be able to effectively resist. A dragon is not known to them. A dragon will strike fear into even their boldest hearts. And they are unable to conjure dragons of their own to defeat it. Only another dragon may defeat a dragon. A dragon will plunder their treasures and store them into a hoard and once there is enough? We will then conjure another dragon to wrest away that hoard for our own.”

The room was silenced, so in awe were the kings of princes of this diabolical plan. Heads began to nod at the brilliance of it and voices began to cry out, “Yes! Send the dragon!” King Archos was pleased, though he solemnly weighed this plan and was left to conclude one shortcoming.

“Neotoma your idea has found favor. Indeed, there is little fault to be found in it, yet I fear that you may be too focused upon only the treasures. What of their peoples? Do you suggest that your dragon may slay them all? “

Neotoma’s eyes squinted into ever narrower slits. His hands folded upon themselves at his chest and he offered a gracious bow. “Ah, my liege, herein lies the true brilliance of this remedy. The dragon may very well slay them all, but that is not required. We may slay one half and enslave the other. Once they become aware that they may not defeat the dragon, we shall come to afford them our protections and be welcomed as heroes.”

King Archos was instantly struck with the sheer and beautiful simplicity of this plan. His mind leaped instantly to it’s ingenious conclusion. To assure the others present who may not have reached it, he encouraged Neotoma to continue.

“Yes, for you see once we should come as saviors we shall inform them all that we too have suffered this scourge, but that our law and custom (under your wise rule, of course) has saved us. We will teach them to institute a lottery to appease the dragon. They will see that submitting to this rule shall permit them to still enjoy a share of their labors, whilst our rule will spare them utter destruction. If they will accept this most barbaric tenet in exchange for their safety, then surely it will be no time at all until they should destroy themselves. Then we shall be left to rule and take from whatever is left.”

Thus was the end of natural law and the ascent of the rule of man, until the land beyond scrutiny was forever lost. It is now known only in legend, like the lost continent of Atlantis. Men still dream of it, others still seek it, but her history now sleeps beneath the waves where only fish may know.

More dead fish

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A Doom and Reprisal editorial from Ale 81 field correspondent, Ford Wenty


On the same day that Fred Willard passed on from this realm another Fred also departed. He was none other than Fred the betta, a small, blue fish. While Mr. Willard was renowned among his peers, as well as viewing audiences of five decades, Fred the betta was and still remains an obscure quantity. His passing was not unnoticed by me and I am struck suddenly that dead fish seem to have become a theme in this column.

There was actually nothing remarkable in the demise of this tiny creature.  He had already lived far beyond any reasonable expectation of his species’ normal lifespan, and outside of a very select handful of people besides myself he was a total unknown.  This story, like the recent Of Dead Sharks and Divorce, is not literally about a dead fish (shark or betta); rather it is about the dead fish as metaphor.

For many hours Fred had been a silent companion at my writing desk, he on one side of a six liter glass bowl and I on the other. Ours was a peaceful coexistence, while in two distinctly separate realities. Either of us were able to view the other’s world through the distortion of that glass bowl, yet neither of us able to experience the other’s world directly. Whereas I breathe air, and he water, it was an impossibility for us to exchange places. Despite these facts it is still true that, though I might not see everything inside of the bowl with total clarity, I was still able to observe his behavior.

In his waning days there was much of that behavior that remained the same as before, but there were others which signalled that a change was coming. Fred’s degree of curiosity about the outside had always been limited to whatever should press against the glass of his bowl. A couple of weeks before the end this began to change. Where he had once eagerly swam to the top of the water to greet those who would peer in, he began instead to ignore any other presence. He seemed to “play dead”, utterly disinterested in anything occurring on the other side of the glass. His colors, once comprised of brilliant tones of blue, faded to a sickly pallor of pale grey.  In his last couple of days on this earth he spent most of his time with his belly pressed upon the glass near the surface, his gills seemingly bloated and laboring to breathe. These spells were broken periodically by frantic paroxysms, splashing about aimlessly until spent and then resuming a listless drift. At the end these fits came more frequently and violently, followed by a return to the glass where he would remain still, requiring every ounce of energy just to keep his gills moving. When he was finally done a film covered his dead eyes and he sank slowly to the bottom.

I have been left to contemplate Fred’s passing for nearly two days now and it occurs to me that, like the dead shark of Annie Hall fame, Fred likewise is a metaphor for something more. Not something greater, in any real sense of that word, just something other. There is an unmistakable parallel between Fred’s last days and some of the events we see playing out around us.

There is a certain order that has prevailed in our world for many years. It is an order which, not unlike Fred’s glass bowl, that has been highly insulated. The inhabitants of that bowl have, like the recently departed fish, been perfectly content to remain within it’s confines to shit where they eat. Day after day, month after month, and years on end. They have remained blind to realities that exist beyond their sheltered pool, able to catch mere glimpses of that reality without gaining any further understanding of what else may lay beyond.  Fred was only a fish. It is unlikely that he experienced a knowledge that he was dying; rather, it was an instinct which spurred the changes in his behaviors at the end. The behaviors of those comprising this order would seem to mirror that of the late betta fish. They seem to be flailing about in the same spasms of desperation, like the panicked, drowning soul that thrashes utterly mindless that they might pull others down with them.  Unable to admit to themselves what is happening, though they have the means to know it, they revert to instinct.  Having ignored and denied instinct for so long their actions are purely reflexive.

It was saddening to watch Fred go through those last days. In contrast it is a total delight to watch these craven, privileged shit stains descend into their death throes.  Fred has been given a burial suitable for his place, his bowl submerged into flowing waters that will ultimately carry him to the distant Gulf of Mexico.  He was deserving of more than being flushed down a toilet.  I can not say the same for that dying order. They have already been swimming in the largest toilet ever made for years.  Better they wash up on some distant shore for the birds to pick their carcasses clean, though I still wonder: would they even eat anything so foul?


Ford Wenty report end , 5/18/2020


The single most despicable human being on the planet this week ending 4/25/2020

This week’s winner stormed into the game late and bested some of our perennial contenders.  In a field including Nancy Pelosi, Chuck Todd and CNN’s Brain Seltzer, our winner this week blew them all out of the water. Remarkably this individual did not even enter the equation until mid week. This individual’s despicable factor was indeed SO potent that if Adam Schiff himself had been on the front pages this week, even then it would have been no contest. Even more remarkable, our winner has prevailed following a nearly unparalleled performance from Michigan’s Gretchen Hitler.

Following this appearance on Fox News Channel’s Tucker Carlson Tonight on Thursday,  all balloting for this week’s winner was closed:



Yes folks, in an heretofore never witnessed tour de force of hubris, Peter Walker completely decimated any competition for this dubious distinction. It wasn’t even close. Walker, self-confessed former senior partner of McKinsey & Company, embodies the traitorous swine who have for decades whored themselves to the Chinese Communist Party. Like the Uberpimp, they have sold all of our asses while walking away with the fee.  We’re the cheapest whores around: we don’t even get a cut from the transaction.

If you can bear it, watch the entire clip. If you dare, stare into the soulless eyes of evil. Like a concentration camp guard, found out decades later; or the charter member of NAMBLA, there is no attempt to deny his deeds. This skid mark doesn’t even think he’s done anything wrong, in fact he almost seems proud of what he and his greed merchants have wrought upon his countrymen. I would wager that this stain on humanity would be just as adept at explaining, in the very same dispassionate fashion, how best to sodomize young boys without the aid of lubrication.

Will we see more from this sudden new sensation? I doubt it. I expect that his publicist and legal team will be fired after this appearance (what were you thinking, Mr. Walker!?) Perhaps no. It is rather likely that they are just as tone deaf. So for those of you who are routinely pulling for the list of usual suspects, have no fear. As the country comes back to life from this entire shutdown charade, you may all rest assured that Pelosi, Todd and company will resume their low standard of despicable behavior. Mr. Walker is a one hit wonder, but one that will not soon be forgotten.



Perverted by language

Wittgenstein’s bane

Basis for human constructs

a pliable tool

to use for conflation

Distorting translation

Manipulation by inflation

The devaluation

of your currency and law

Inflation of panic more hot air

to inflate your own egos


Brazil revisited

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A report from Ale 81 Inn field correspondent, Ford Wenty


After watching the farcical proceedings of the Adam Schiff Show for the past couple of weeks I was prompted to revisit one of my favorite dystopian tales, the 1985 Terry Gilliam film Brazil.  There are doubtless those within our audience who are familiar with the film, though I suspect that these would be in the minority. In the nearly thirty-five years since it’s release it is fair to say that despite Academy Award nominations, and the timeliness of the picture’s theme, it is something which has faded to relative obscurity.  For those not familiar I do highly recommend that you look up Brazil and set aside 94 minutes that you can easily part with. Some green would be in order for the occasion, or any other mind altering poisons that you have successfully tamed.

A little background here for those who may be completely unfamiliar. Terry Gilliam is best known as the lone Yank of the legendary English comedy troupe, Monty Python’s Flying Circus, most notably as producer of their bizarre animated sequences. It was a quite ambitious undertaking at the time, just four years after Gilliam’s first foray into film, Time BanditsBrazil incorporates some of the same fantasy elements as it’s predecessor; some may say these are overdone to the overall detriment of the Brazil storyline. The film employs what may only be called a “retro-futuristic” landscape, in much the same fashion as the more recent A Series of unfortunate Events. The sets depicting the outside world are eerily reminiscent of those presented in the early sci-fi masterpieces of famed German director Fritz Lang.

The cast was comprised of a veritable who’s who of British cinema, many of whom in ensuing years were to become well known to American audiences. One would need begin with Jonathan Pryce as the story’s chief protagonist, Sam Lowry. You will recognize him from his later roles in films like Four Weddings and a Funeral and the Brendan Fraser Mummy franchise.  There were also fellow Python alum, Michael Palin; Ian Holm, later best known as Bilbo Baggins from Peter Jackson’s LOTR universe; a not yet well known but certainly recognizable Bob Hoskins, later of Roger Rabbit and countless others. A bit of truly obscure trivia for you: Hoskins’ role was that of a workman, an HVAC technician from government’s Central Services. He had a partner which was none other than Nigel Planer, better known as Neil the Hippie from BBC 4’s short lived The Young Ones a few years prior. There were also some well known American talents, including Katherine Helmond, who was quite familiar to American audiences at the time from her television role in the hit ABC sitcom, Soap. In the most unlikely of roles Robert DeNiro appeared as one Harry Tuttle, the renegade HVAC technician and enemy of the State.

Without divulging all, for the benefit of those who may wish to check out the picture, it will have to suffice here to say that Brazil is a sort of dystopian parody/romance.  Those who have seen and recall it will likely concur with that summation. It is, if nothing else, the most unique treatment of the genre; the cinematic equivalent to Kafka. There has long been an audience in the English speaking world for the dystopian nightmare. In Brazil, like other British iterations, these are depicted as a moribund bureaucracy possessed of only the most inept and unintended malevolence. American interpretations tend to be more sinister in character. In truth any dystopia should contain equal parts of each. The absurd element of the bureaucratic state is captured sometimes subtly, but always brilliantly in this film. Some may have already drawn the connection, while others may still be pondering: what is the connection between this and the impeachment hearings? 

Well, recall that I began by stating that these hearings were the impetus for my cinematic retrospective. There have been an abundance of storylines that feed into this idea of the unaccountable state run amok. Each day there is some new element of federal agency malfeasance exposed and it all broadly coalesces into one large and intricately connected web, for those who will take the time to connect all the dots.  I contend that this can not be the result of mere ineptitude, rather it is by design. By the very complexity of these schemes, any attempt to explain and expose them becomes so convoluted that it makes it a very easy target for the label of “conspiracy”. The fact that the players within this drama are insulated, so far removed from any semblance of reality that exists beyond their bubble, is evidenced by something as innocuous as their language.

When I refer to language I do not mean the manner of speech used by the witnesses brought before this inquisition, telling as that may be. I mean instead their shorthand, the lexicon of their profession. Languages evolve out of a unique or distinctive culture. In the last two weeks we have been presented a cross section of unelected functionaries representing various sectors of what I like to think of as the “permanent security state”. There were the State Department, the Defense Department, and my personal favorite; the playground of the Ivy League farm club system and globalist tainted think tanks, the National Security Council. One watches, one listens, and one reads; and one is overwhelmed.

State. Secretaries and Under Secretaries, and deputies thereof. Ambassadors, deputy Ambassadors, chargee d’affaires and chiefs of mission. Oh, and don’t forget the venerated “special envoy”.

Defense. Active duty US Army, assigned to NSC at White House, reporting through chain of command to John Bolton, while also liaising with State and also reporting to an as-yet-to-be-named intel agency. Nice!

And the NSC. As far as the current impeachment narrative runs this is where the crux lies. The NSC: inextricably attached to CIA, DIA, DHS and every other damned alphabet soup bureau and/or agency in our federal government.

Even the House itself: committees and subcommittees, Intel, Oversight, Judicial and more. Question: how many lawyers does it take to fuck up a free lunch? And in the Justice Department and all of it’s many moving parts? DOJ-NSD, OCA, OCG, Directors, Deputy Directors, Deputy Assistant Directors, Counter-intel, AG, DAG, DAAG, and on, and on and on.

All of this nonsense, cumulatively, adds up to this theater of the absurd quality as viewed in the film Brazil. It’s like a Mad Magazine marathon of Spy vs. Spy, each little cell programmed to eternally perform it’s function oblivious to the body politic as a whole. It has become a living yet mindless organism, dedicated as are all organisms, to it’s own propagation. Look at it carefully, America. Is this what we have become? Reduced to a pathetic cartoon? Never mind ANY of the subject matter at hand. Just LOOK at what an absolute FARCE the entire thing is. Not just the hearings, but the ENTIRE federal government. And just like in the film there are only two ways that the absurdity comes to an end: by it’s utter destruction or by it’s own complete and utter victory.

We have but one, ONE chance to cleanse this filth in a peaceful and bloodless fashion. If we fail to do so something much worse will follow, for good or ill.


Ford Wenty report end, 23 November, 2019