About this episode
In this podcast episode, we discuss Kamala Harris’ campaign and whether it demonstrates the absolute limits of astroturfing.Globohomo Ziobankster Inc has turned mass-marketing and high-tech influence operations into an art. From “remember the Lusitania” to “two weeks to slow the spread,” they have managed to sell some whopping lies to a gullible public over the past century (if not longer). But has their well of PR magic finally run dry?“Sell the sizzle, not the steak,” is an advertising proverb, but with the Harris campaign, they’re trying to sell the sizzle without any steak — and without any sizzle either. The emperor’s new Yass Queen. And the people aren’t buying it.Ol’ Kackling Kamala. She has all the psychopathy of Barack Obama, George Bush, and Bill Clinton, but none of their charm, charisma, or verbal acuity. (Even W was better spoken than Kamala, which is really saying something.) No principles. No concrete plans for cleaning up the Biden Administration’s mess, and no plausible alibi or explanation as to why she should not be blamed for any of that administration’s blunders. Instead, all we get from her is a bunch of obviously insincere playacting, cringey attempts at humor, and histrionic preaching to the girlboss choir. So no substance, and not even any style either. There’s really nothing. She’s just an empty vessel. A pliant ventriloquist dummy eager to sit in the laps of all the banksters and to do and say whatever they want.Just about the only person more pathetic than Kackling Kamala is her running mate, a bizarre toad-like creature called Tim Walz. Alex Jones said that “they’re putting chemicals in the water that are turning the freaking frogs gay.” Who knows? Maybe they’re also turning the gays into frogs, so now we have gay frogs, like Tim Walz, running for office.Harris/Walz is the lowest quality presidential ticket in living memory, maybe ever. Even Biden, with all the “rust on the iron pentagon” that his Presidency represented, was somehow better than this. They are really scraping rock bottom now. That alone should make us “Waltzpilled,” as Mark Bisone put it. But even more abysmal than the product that they’re selling are their attempts to sell it. Every couple of weeks their branding gurus roll out a new slogan. BRAT girl summer. (I still don’t know what that means, and I refuse to find out.) J.D. Vance is WEIRD! (Because Tim Walz is the epitome of normal, healthy masculinity — not to mention all the trannies and
