Horizon Watch

Pop quiz: guess which collaborative general-interest blog of history, literature, culture, and stuff didn't mention the launch of the Japanese H-2A rocket this weekend?

Now tell me you're shocked.

Groan. More mirthless tedium from so-called Horizon. No wonder no-one reads it - including me. Here's a heads-up, morons: we don't want your pitiful attempts at 'humour' (or even 'humor'!), we want the truth about the latte establishment's war of extermination against the white working class - the kind of truth you're not interested in, of course. I'd call it treachery, but it's too feeble. Pathetic.

When will Allport stop boring us with his pretentious oh i'm such a superior intellectual-type sputterings? Day after day, blah blah blah - we're not interested, capice, Oh Magnificent One? If we wanted to hear your pompous twaddle we'd read Horizon, which thankfully (!) we don't. Now, not content with ramming his crappy kids books down our throats, he plans (according to an anonymous flyer circulating on the 'Net) to deliver a lecture on misery to the American League of Proletarian Brain Surgeons. Misery! Are you f***ing kidding me? Where do these pampered Ivy League elitists find the gall? Listen, Allport, you wouldn't know misery if it came up and smacked you in your latte-loving face. While you were out punting on the jolly old river or whatever the hell you fancyboy snobs get up to, some of us were mentoring to blind puppies just yards away. What do you think about that, eh? We ordinary folk may not be worthy of you (hah!) - we may not have your la-di-da bits of paper to frame on the wall - but we have more homespun common sense than you will find in a mountain of your beloved Chomsky. Unbelievable. Truly unbelievable.

It may have been Bridegam. The point's the same.

I never read Horizon, and one of the reasons is that they cowardly refuse to publish the articles I keep sending them. So much for a "collaborative general-interest blog of history, literature, culture, and stuff." Here's another slogan for you - "liberty, if it means anything, is the right to tell people what they don't want to hear." They're history all right - on the dustheap of history! Orwell is turning in his grave. How pathetic.

I hope they're fair trade beans, comrade!
What a joke. This is too easy.

Yawn. I never read Horizon, but I see it's as dreary as ever. Apart from Ben's stuff. The same blinkered Berkeley mindset, the same ivory-tower liberal treachery. Pathetic. Get real.


QuXXXing................AlXXXrt

You'd think that a collaborative general-interest blog of history, literature, culture, and stuff would have time to cover the papal confirmation of Cardinal Ruini, wouldn't you?

Well? Well?

In the comments to this post, Brumfield promised a detailed response. Instead, he claims to have "loaned out" a book he claims he needs.

Weasel! Squeek! Squeek! Squeek!

I was afraid it would come to this.

Alan Allport has been spreading his perfidy in the comments to someone else's blog. You can't hide, Allport!

You'd think that a collaborative general-interest blog of history, literature, culture, and stuff would have time to cover the birth of David Cameron's third son, wouldn't you?

Well, where is it? We're still waiting, you lefty wankers.

We haven't seen Alan Hogue posting his usual blather for a while lately. I suspect his real life activities have prevented him from writing much.

After all, It's hard to blog much when you're the west-coast liason between the Spartacist Youth League and Hizb ut Tahrir!

We all know Martha is eeeeeevil, but here's more proof: Her only post this week is about science fiction.

Plainly she's covering up her role in the Ukrainian collectivization famine!

Confess, Martha. We know you did it.

You'd think that collaborative general-interest blog of history, literature, culture, and stuff would mention this Mark Steyn column. But noooooo, the blinkered self-styled "cultural elites" can't be bothered, can they? Here's real culture, you pomo pansies:

But here’s a fact: in Fatty Arbuckle’s The Butcher Boy (1917), his first screen appearance, Buster Keaton threw a custard pie. Thereafter, in none of his own films did a single pie fly. Instead, as one of the few self-contained film-makers — star, writer, director, producer, stuntman — he tapped the true energy in comedy. Not the phony energy when everyone’s running round in circles, but the energy that can come from just standing still. No single scene distills the spirit of Keaton better than that sublime moment in The General (1926) when he climbs up to the roof of the train, stands on the engine and leans into the horizon, ramrod straight but tilted forward, the wind whipping his hair as the landscape rushes by. It’s all in the angle — like the famous photo of the flag-raising at Iwo Jima, for which, in its grace and poetry, this scene is Keaton’s comedic equivalent.

A heavy-handed pack of socialist wankers has ended pub life forever. Why haven't we seen coverage on Horizon yet? Residence outside the UK is no excuse: They're covering up!

Welcome to Horizon Watch, your source for exposing the nefarious gang of evaders at horizon.bloghouse.net.