"Heebetudinous"

[Buck Turgidson <turgidsonATnym.alias.net>]

A reader forwards the inaugural issue, Winter 2002, of this quarterly
celebration of the hepkike: "Heeb," it's -- "The New Jew Review." Not
to like, what's?

Most everything. Not since Krema II, This time it's poysonal, have so
many unappetizing yids been crammed into such a small space. The only
difference is that "Heeb" hebes actually exist! These have to be
undoctored photos; at least they made me sick.

What do you think when you think 'hebe'? I think of physical
repulsiveness and pseudo-intellectual pushiness: an asymmetrical sex-
pert, a lewd comedienne, an nosey nathan nattering about Trotsky.
When I think 'hebe,' I think Sandra Bernhard -- loathsome, fragile,
pretentious, aggressive, accusatory, arrogant, hyperemotional and
above all ugly. Ugly, this Jewish race: Bernhard its flower.

The race has perfected sluttiness sans allure. Not easy, that. No
buoyant, frothing, joyful sexuality, just brittle, sterile,
exoskeleton of innuendo that disintegrates when you touch it. Jew
"sex" is about as satisfying to humans as a beetle's wingshell to a
hungry lizard. Jew-tv "sex" is false, forced, anti-fecund for all its
dripping drool. Jews understand sex less than any other race on the
planet. The idea of turning to a Freud or Mailer to "understand" sex -
- well, nobody who read The Naked and the Dead or a description of
the Oedipal theory would turn to these guys for help. The normal
reaction would be laughter. A certain hate-filled lechery exudes from
the kike mind like viscous grease from certain lower invertebrates,
nothing more. Jews do dirty sex wrong, and they can't do clean at all.

Think of the boyishly off-putting Ben Stein, interviewing Gene
Simmons for his Comedy Central talk show, and practically getting off
the seat and shaking him to find out how many girls he slept with.
That's hebe - a "conservative intellectual" yid wearing tennis shoes
with a suit, digging for sex dirt. What a kike. What a yid. What a
hebe. Scratch a jew, find something always digging in your wallet or
washroom all thick-lipt and golub-eyed. Hebes evince this peepishness
to a degree far beyond any other race. Whatever the opposite of
grace, beauty and smoothness is, the insult 'hebe' sums it.

What's a "heeb"?

A member of an ugly, paranoid-aggressive, crying-accusatory tribe of
gnomish nickel-biters.

What characterizes the hebe?

Explicitness masquerading as depth.

Cynical motive-spotting presented as cutting-edge intellectualism.

Pop-eyed paranoia in the name of "sensitivity."

Whatever is ugly, hypocritical and often as not corrupt -- that's
"heeb."...

Flip strength...

The photos in mag are to die for, literally.

Let's test this 68-page rag's retch strength, opening at random and
seeing how copiously we vomit.

p.42: Is there anything more disgusting than an open-mouthed beanie
wearing, shimmying kike, lower abdomen thrust out, pulverizing wood
on the dance floor? No. Oh wait. How 'bout the thing next to him,
swirling in a dress, eyes shut, huge mouth open like a Hasid sow
about to distwat its twelth pup? Yes, that would qualify.

They hebes. We rue.

And of course we can't help but view the facing page where we find
the one hebe you knew had to be in there somewhere, probably in the
back pages, yes, guess, you know, the old fagerast, the sod's sod,
the poetastress herself, Allen Ginsberg, master of the tantrumic
rumptameter. All Jewry deserves to be tied together and knocked in a
pool for passing this kid-licking poof off on kids as a poet. Pre-
ecstasy bone-stoner geeked on Blake, Kali and tiny fungi he used to
ingest after lovingly shepherding their nurturance in piles of his
lover's dung. There's scarcely an honors English class in the land, I
dare say, where this pederast perpetrator of prosodomy isn't
(ass)igned and (stud)ied.

Title: "Holy Soul." Subtitle: "I was fifteen when I met Allen
Ginsberg at my cousin Isaac's bar Mitzvah. Years later, he would ask
if I had thought he was hitting on me that night." And yes, that's
what it's about. Some punk writing about sleeping with Ginsberg,
despite their fifty-year age difference and homogenous sexuality.

What's echt heebish? There's your answer. A hack fag poet and the
power to plant him on playlists nationwide.

We flip over to 28, catch a spread on some disgusting broad now
playing Berlin as "Peaches." She's an elementary teacher from Toronto
who moved to Berlin and "reinvented" herself as some kind of obscene,
talent-free singer. She raps out clevernesses like "Fuck the pain
away," and, "There's only one Peach with a hole in the middle."
Typical Jew dreck presented as admirable, desirable, cutting edge.
The pictures show the disgusting creature you'd expect. She pretty
much sums herself up in this clip:

Heeb: Do you consider yourself shocking?

Peaches: I heard somebody at the Coney Island show who was like,
"Fucking karaoke. Give us a guitar or cowbell or something!"

Ever notice how jews are always 're'-ing?: remaking, redoing,
reimagining, recreating, reinventing? Those who can, do. Those who
can't, redo. If their product was any good, Jews wouldn't have to
rewrap it all the time. Why does 'you can't polish a turd' always
come to mind whenever the hebes rev up the 're's?

Peaches is exhibit A when I say Jews are complete flops at dirty sex.
They can't get the essence of anything but calculating to the sub-
penny. Genuine Jewish creative genius is found in swindling, and
nowhere else. Jews can mimic and map onto things, but they can't
capture essence.

Disgusting sexual crap is a large part of the Jewish soul. It's
everywhere in Heeb. Besides Peaches there's an article about Jewlets
running a youth-radio show, also in Germany. There's also an article
about homosexual Orthodox, featuring that classic kike photo we ran
in Letters one time: the one with six or seven traditionally
outfitted kikes surrounding the camera, grinning crookedly in
anticipation of their next swindle. It's pretty clear that pushing
the boundaries IS normal life to the kike. If there wasn't anything
to get synthetically angry about, or any new mark to swindle, the
average kike wouldn't have any reason to get up in the morning. A
truly awful, ugly, disgusting, destructive race of swindlers and
syntactless "fixers," it's. Really: just run down the article index
for the premier issue, what the hebes think will sell: grafitti, smut
radio, jewfros, peaches, nasty old man, fag-orthos, fag-poet catamite
memoir, Vieques -- of everything personally disgusting and
politically destructive compact, it's. Nothing good comes out of a
Jew. No Jews. Just Right.

Flipflipflip, ruffleruffleruffle...

p. 14.

We open to an exceptionally unprepossessing B&W shot of a withered
old man who looks like Mike Royco with K-mart frames, blotchy
arthritic sausagefingers and a super-sized nose, which is displacing
at least as much as he's slurping up of whatever disgusting liquid
fizzes pollutedly in the bottom of his paper cup, which is not to
disparage the possibility he's actually shlooking the stuff direct
through his honker like a superannuated Pet pachyderm. Ecce icky
heebay. In all its natural splendor. You can almost hear him bitching
about Social Security and $2 off on his early-bird special. He's not
quite as bad as Jerry Stiller, quite possibly the most viscerally
repellant allegedly human creature ever emptied on celluloid.

We can almost whiff-stril the stranch of this hyperglobulated old
coozer's gefilte-fish breath as he wheezes out chortles over the
latest witticism of the clinically dead Special Olympian yumorist
Artless Buchwald, yet depriving some young kike of cryspace at the
Post.

Kikes! They never disappoint...

I swear on the Holy Talmud and blessed m_mory of Saint Baruch of the
Submachine Gun I had not read the following when making prior
statements:

Heeb: How do you like living here?

Bierenbaum: Brighton Beach is not bad. Other places you cannot even
walk out, but here I can walk at night. The problem is, I'm an old
man now, and I'm perspiring. I've gone to many doctors and I want you
to know, the Torah tells you that even the best of the doctors will
go to hell. I saw now that they are all crooks. I told one that if I
would be a squealer, I could get 25,000 dollars and he would lose his
license.

Heeb: So what's the issue with your perspiration?

Bierenbaum: They don't know what it is! I need so many undershirts
every day!...

Ya can't make stuff like this up, folks. Kike tartar, it's!

Facing the old man (what they call a badkhin, or wedding jester, or,
in modern jew-promoted raphop parlance, a freestyling old-school
yiddish MC) -- is a jew pimp. An 'Alfonz' -- "pimp; Yiddish, derived
from the proper name "Alphonse," a possible ancestor of Heidi Fleiss.
Usage: "Ver hot dir gezogt az du kenst trogn azelkhene kleyder in
shul? Du zest oys vi an alfonz!" (Translation: "Who told you you
could wear those clothes to synagogue? You look like a pimp!")
Depicted is an alfonz in the back of a limo, looking oso
jewpimplimokool, Call me Rubbernus Pumpernickel Who Saw the Best
Minds of his generation lose themselves in others men's rectums. In
other words, echt cheesy topping material.

The next pages cry out for suicide bombers too. They're all about
Jewfros. Jews have some sort of fixation with their own little twist
on the Affenkultur they've pushed on us. In a way curiously parallel
to that of the slick VJs employed on Murray Rothstein's "country"
music channel CMT, Heeb's Jew writers and editors continually stud
their discourse with 'down' negrisms where English would serve a man.
By extension, aptatis aptandis, hairstyles too. Here's a hebe who
looks like Ron Jeremy. Here's one who looks like a Jenny Grey beat to
panting with the Jew stick. Here's one who looks like a Semitically
seasoned Fred Savage. Big shylock shocks of unshy locks, about six
pages worth. Feature, it's! Classic quote from young faggy jewtype
with über-girlish superthick jewfro onto his shoulders, Fran
Leibowitz style, and a look in his sweetygirl eyes to where you can
smell the "social justice" bullshit about to vomit forth like a
tipped jar of marxomeal. The faggy little pacificst-socialist
troublemaker, tikkuning as fast as he can, always against your
interests, always on your dime. Wearing a shirt with shaking hands,
beneath the rubric "solidarity forever." Are you getting the picture?
Says hebe:
My boss, the deputy director of the Parks Department, gave me
barrettes to put in my hair. She had these little rainbow barrettes
in her hair and I complimented her on them and she was like, "I'll
bring some in for you." And sure enough, the next day she brought in
a little bag of barrettes. So I put them on and started wearing them
around the office. That's the cool thing about it, you become kind of
a magnet for weird situations. It's a kind of spatial thing where
you're extending beyond the boundaries of your personal space. Your
hair is out in public space and you become public property in a weird
way.
That's hebe in a nutshell: grow an afro, doll it up all tweety-
sweety, think up a ridiculous "social" justification for it. Imagine
you are on the uncutting edge. The personal is political. Or the
person-hole, as the fags say.

And it wouldn't be a hebe mag without a big scoop of paranoid
rubbish. This we find in some clown named Tim Sommer's article about
Pizza Hut's "twisted crust" as some kind of Nazi plot. Am I kidding?
No, I'm not kidding. The story has a big graphic of a pizza imposed
on a swastika. See, swastika is hakenkreuz -- twisted cross -- in
German, and that's similar to 'twisted crust,' ergo twisted crust
pizza is a nazi plot. You have to be jewish to think like that. Any
other race, you'd assume it was weak satire, with jews you can be
sure it's real. That's why the race is pernicious and can't get along
with any other. It's not going too far to say that this article is a
microscosm of why the race has been kicked out of every country it's
ever settled in. It discriminates against Whites in employment,
promotions, civil service and "hate" crimes; it smears the heck out
of Whites in its tv and papers and other media -- but if you name a
pizza wrong, you're violating jewish civil rights! Jews have
absolutely no concept in their culture of giving the other guy any
rights or room. It's all them, all the time, in alles. That's why the
only true definition of "anti-Semite" is non-Jew. Jews: we can't live
with 'em -- but we sure can shoot 'em.

Sommer praises the pizza as an example of assimilated ethnic food
with this telling trope: "Certainly no foodstuff associated with the
Jewish Diaspora can claim to have driven this kind of stake into the
heartland..." Like the heartland's a vampire? Of course that's what
he means. Ever see rural Americans depicted as normal in a Hollywood
movie?

And the story comes complete with Irving slur. I scoured this twice
for the slightest sign of satire, but -- hell, you tell me:
Anyone who's been through a half a year of Hebrew school, half a
chapter of William Shirer, or half an hour of the History Channel
knows that the common German word for the Swastika is Hakenkreuz --
literally, Twisted Cross. Even if the association in English may be
just a tad obscure, every German speaker between Basel and Berlin
knows that the Twisted Cross and the Swastika are one and the same.
In any event, you don't have to be a Brown semiotics major with a
trust fund, Asian model girlfriend and a million-and-a-half dollar
loft on Broome Street to make the aural connection between Twisted
Crust and Twisted Cross. Now, why would a fast food chain blithely
name one of their signature products after an internationally
familiar symbol of hatred, terror, and despotism? Until Marie
Callender's introduces a Pol Pot Pie, or Cinnabon start marketing a
Hot Flaming Cross Bun, we have to recognize this as a signal moment
in cultural insensitivity and insult. ...the aural evocation is too
damn close to be merely coincidental. Perhaps it's just a perverse
marketer or an ad man bent on softening America for the acceptance of
Holocaust deniers.
I'd like to think that's satire, but, knowing Jews, I don't. He also
writes, SC of the TC:
But I have never seen a "breadstick" like this outside of a Peter
Greenway film. In actuality, this intimidating and obscene object is
at best "crust-like," (one could say that Twisted Crust is to crust
what Holocaust revisionist David Irving is to historian -- but more
on that later.
He concludes:
By attaching a lovable and appetizing association to a symbol of
terror, we are simultaneously reminded of the omnipresence of that
terror, we are simultaneously reminded of the omnipresence of that
terror while being told that it might taste good if it was in our
living rooms right now. Twisted Crust = twisted cross = chew and
tasty little swastika = the bad ol' days weren't really that bad.
David Irving would be proud.
Again, I'd like to think that's just insipid satire, but it's not.

So that about wraps it up for Heeb editorial: smut sex, radical
politics. What are the prospects for this latest addition to the
newsstand?

Heeb, the product...

(by Alex Linder)
==========================================
- Buck Turgidson turgidson AT nym DOT alias DOT net

"Christianity was invented by the jews as a
tool with which to destroy the White Race."

The Covenant, the Sword, and Arm of the Lord