On this day I do hereby declare Panzergoth be mine.

Panzergoth is the scream of the human spirit where it’s caught in the gears. Technology, policy, whatever – it’s the cry of “AW, FUCK!” from the crewman who throws his 70-tonne monster into reverse and it makes a grinding “ker-klong” song, instead. It’s the bass track to “Apocalypse Now” when the airstrike is coming in on your own position (more bass tones).

It’s the intersection of doom and bureaucracy. The courage to smash the fuck out of the weak, because they did not file their form 23-47/j on time.

The desperation of the [alleged] british soldier at Isandlwhana who could not open the ammunition tins fast enough with the properly issued screwdriver. It glorifies those moments when, in spite of all of the impediments, your enemy walks right in front of you and invites you to really rip their face off in an operatic manner. Like Travis Bickle. Like Teutoborg Woods. Like Marbot rescuing the colors of the 14th of the Line at Eylau: well, so much for the rest of the 14th, the colors are OK. One last glorious blast of anger, then we revert to 45 tons of inert steel sinking slowly into a swamp. Archaelogists rejoice.

Also, please youtube tell me what’s OK for children? If they were good enough to sell into slavery to the ottomans at 12 they can handle some rap, can’t they? For that matter, some respect for the 14-year-old volkssturm who fired panzerfausts at oncoming sherman tanks; they weren’t mature enough to have sophisticated politics yet they were expected to give their lives in an absurd bargain against time and superior force. Anyhow, let’s breathe a sigh for all those poor bastards.

Be careful lest the shit we be blowing up be thine own.

What will we do in November, when the republicans (who are “all in”) try to steal the election. Aux Barricades I guess. I guess it’s the Irish in me that gets angry when I see anyone (brown, black, or white) beating down on some unarmored protester all I can think is “there’s a lad that needs some lubricating fuel.” Burnin’. Don’t worry, I’m nae pyro, I’m a gun nut. Or, if you prefer, a counter-terrorism consultant. And don’t talk to me of left or right; I divide the world into weak and strong and Sithrak favors the weak because they are stringy and hard to light.

The themes of “nine while nine” have always appealed to me: desperation, running out of cigarettes, cold, rain, snow, generally hating the other people we are stuck on the planet with, etc. I used it as an experiment regarding ephermerality in media, which I expect some of you will not like. But, sadly, the world you like will never come. We are past peak human, and it’s still better than what will come and I keep your last kiss with me.