Glossary

An explanation of commonly-used terms, grouped (kinda) by subject in no particular order more or less added randomly as needed:

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Exploding Vagina Candle the world’s most Indie band. As best I recall, the joke started when Gwyneth Paltrow’s goofy lifestyle brand, Goop, started marketing a candle that supposedly had a vaginal scent (yes, really). And it had to be recalled for quality control reasons, because apparently it was unstable, to the point the word “exploding” was used. Someone remarked that “Exploding Vagina Candle” would be a great name for a 1990s Indie band, and… there it is. (The “great band name” thing is, of course, shamelessly swiped from Dave Barry).

Strive Diligently to Increase Quality Outputs: That’s what this poster says in North Korean, apparently (thanks to Barbudo for the translation). There cannot possibly be a better or more typical Commie slogan, so naturally we have liberated it in the name of The People.

Slappy: The accepted pronunciation of the acronym TLSAPIHH, The Least Self-Aware People in Human History. C’mon man, you know who it is.

Kagan Institute for Kids Who Can’t War Good: The hilariously named “Institute for the Study of War,” a lunatic neocon propaganda outfit run entirely by the Kagan Kult, and therefore the unofficial Official Voice of the US State Department. The allusion is to the film Zoolander:

Coined by Pickle Rick.

“Fucking ___, how do they work?” Allusion to the Original Juggalos, Insane Clown Posse. Specifically, this:

Originally brought to our attention by Nehushtan.

HGG / Humanity’s Greatest Genius: Vox Day. Because he is the most intelligent genius in the history of humanity, obviously.

Tactical Elton John: From this image

from a trailer to the movie Civil War. He’s asking the heroine what kind of American she is, using the most godawful fake Southern accent imaginable. “What kind of American are you?” is a great multipurpose query / insult / ballbuster in itself, and the fact that the guy looks faaaaa-bulous! is just the icing on the cake. From there, “Tactical Elton” became a stand-in / lead-in for discussions of potential kinetic spiciness in the near future.

Working Towards the Juggalo. Based on Sir Ian Kershaw’s idea of “working towards the Fuhrer” as a descriptor of the Third Reich’s frankly bizarre governing structure. Hitler was infamously averse to giving orders, and so, of necessity, his underlings got very good at doping out what he wanted them to do based on various hints and suggestions. (Note that this is far from unique to Hitler — Stalin was also a master at this, going so far as to signal some huge change in policy in a technical article about linguistics. Henry II got Thomas Beckett killed by asking aloud “Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest?” and so on).

Because “Social Darwinism” was central to the Kitty Weltanschauung, this got cranked up past 11. The only way to get ahead in the Third Reich was to work ever more fervently towards the Fuhrer — figure out what he wants and give it to him, even before he himself realizes it, shanking all your rivals in the process. This had the odd, counterintuitive result that “the Fuhrer” frequently got things that Adolf Hitler, the individual man, didn’t actually want — indeed, were sometimes the opposite of what he wanted. By the time Hitler was actually arsed to give direct orders on a subject, it was usually too late… and he was dumb and spastic, so his direct orders were often impossible, and were all but guaranteed to make things worse even if they were technically feasible.

Note that this is the best-case scenario for that style of “governance,” and Working Towards the Juggalo makes a lot more sense. There is no one, individual Juggalo at the head of the Apparat; in this case, “the Juggalo” is a collective noun. All the individual Juggs have to interpret “the Juggalo” as best xzhey can (the collective worldview of “the Juggalo” is called Juggalisme). Thus the ever-more-insane purity spirals, over ever-tinier issues. It’s also why they can never, ever touch the brake pedal, no matter what. At least with Hitler, the actual man, the possibility existed that he might give direct orders that were actually implementable, that a given individual Kitty might appeal to in order to stop the madness. But there’s no Uber-Juggalo at the head of the Apparat, so even that very slender possibility is foreclosed.

Blutarskyism / “Blutarsky that shit!” A slang term developed organically from the name of Vladimir Bukovsky, author of the required reading To Build a Castle and the patron saint of Dissidents everywhere. Bukovsky was one of those people who simply couldn’t go along. His signature style in the labor camps was to throw sand in the gears of the system by using its own rules against it. For instance, Soviet prisoners had the right to appeal, and in the Soviet system every letter had to be filed and answered (if only to record a denial), so Bukovsky and his fellow politicals deluged the camp system with hundreds of pieces of paper a day.

Blutarskyism, then (do any of y’all really need a refresher as to where “Blutarsky” comes from?), is doing as Bukovsky did — throwing sand in the gears whenever possible, especially by using the Apparat’s own stupid rules against it. Our SJWs are, if anything, even more addicted to paperwork than their Soviet forebears, so opportunities abound. Thus the battle cry of the Dissident caught within the System: “Blutarsky that shit!” (See also: malicious compliance).

Malicious compliance: a term first introduced by Based5.0, this is similar to the old “work to rule” strike of the early 20th century labor movement, in which one complies with ALL the bureaucratic red tape — to the letter– and refuses to do anything that isn’t laid out in the Policies and Procedures manual. Malicious compliance is therefore a subset of Blutarskyism.

Her Nibs: Hillary Clinton. Because of this, the love child of Her Nibs and Webb Hubbell must be, of course, the L’il Nibbler.

“Baby Dyke” Duvalier: Karine Jean-Pierre. (name credit to Roggertheshrubber)

The Hatfield / McCoy Feud: The shit in the Middle East between Our Greatest Ally and everybody else, that nobody currently involved understands, and everybody else thinks is retarded, because it’s based on stupid beefs that go back millennia. The main participants are:

The Hatfields. This makes sense when you realize that the Hatfields’ hats are very small.

So naturally the other guys are the McCoys, and if you want to make it really clear you can spell it McQoy. They’re also known as Bullwinkle, because just as The Media insists on pronouncing Ukraine’s capital as Keeeeeeeve (instead of Kiev), so they insist that the Koran Krowd must be pronounced “Moose Limbs.” Hence, Bullwinkle the Moose.

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Cat Fancy: The philosophical beliefs — NOT the official policies, much less the historical actions — of a politico-social movement that gets certain sections of the Internet all excited, and shall therefore only be referred to in code. The context should be obvious, but in case you need it spelled out, we’re talking about the Native American Zoological Institute System.

• Mustache Guy: C’mon, man, this one is obvious. Not to be confused with The Manly Mustache Man.
• The Nerd: Heinrich Himmler, leader of the Black Cat Militia and the owner of the Live Action Castle Wolfenstein Playset.
• Fat Boy: Hermann Goering.
• The Dwarf: Josef Goebbels. (Not to be confused with The Ginger Goebbels).
• The Flosser Brothers, Lotto and Regular: Otto and Gregor Strasser. I know, I know, this is getting pretty obscure, but Strasserism was an important movement with some interesting ideas / implications.
• Black Cat Militia: The SS.
• Live Action Wolfenstein Playset: Specifically, Wewelsburg Castle, the “spiritual headquarters” of the SS; in general, that whole mystical thing the SS did.
• Bagels: Mortal enemies of the Cat Fanciers.
• Pussies Galore!: Mustache Guy’s magnum opus.
• Hello, Kitty!: The Japanese version of Fascism. Probably the “Imperial Way” faction if we’re getting specific, but so far there has been no need.
• Olive Garden / Chef Boyardee: The Italian version of Cat Fancy and its leader.
• (Most of those courtesy of Pickle Rick; I think Chef Boyardee (etc.) was WOPR).

Manly Mustache Man: Friedrich Nietzsche.

Ginger Goebbels: Jen Psaki.

Tapioca Joe and the Juggalos: Should be obvious, but maybe not why the Totally Legit Joe administration is “the Juggalos.” The suggestion comes from Some Guy, and there’s a whole post about it somewhere, but basically “Juggalos” are fans of the rap group Insane Clown Posse, two White rappers whose mission is to make rap so filthy and disgusting, even other rappers are uncomfortable. The Juggalos — which is really their self-chosen moniker — are also technically classified somewhere as a gang, which is hilarious, because as Maus put it, most of them are guilty of committing felony stupid and then failing the attitude test. In other words, they’re the kind of stupid, evil clowns that just love Clown World, so what else could you call Tapioca Joe’s gang?

FNGAINO: Fake and Gay America in Name Only. There’s still some debate on the proper pronunciation. I favor “Fun-gain-oh;” there’s a UK contingent (I think) that argues for “Fun-jy-noh;” “Fan-gain-oh” also has its advocates, and anti_JNB makes a strong case for “Effin-Gay-No,” with perhaps an extra pause before the emphatic NO at the end. In the end, it’s like Immanuel Kant said: It’s your thing; do whatcha wanna do.

FNGS / TFNGS: The Fake and Gay Singularity, the point at which Clown World becomes so fake and gay, it disappears up its own vajazzled anus and prolapses out into an alternate universe.

TORAH: The One Right Answer, H8rz! The original TORA was mine, but Vizzini (I think) added the H, making it perfect. The Left, of course, possesses the TORAH, which is why they can never be wrong. On any subject. Ever. (And yeah, I know “the TORAH” is redundant, like “ATM machine” or “PIN number,” but it is what it is).

Oranzhevvy: President Oranzhevvy-Chelovek, the last democratically elected ruler of the Republic of Trashcanistan. Overthrown and banished by his mortal enemy, Dementius Cellarius. No separate glossary entries on those, because c’mon man.

First Rule of Clown World, The: No matter how fake and gay you think it’s going to be (for any value of “it”), it will always somehow end up being so much faker and gayer.

Kangaroo Gulag, The: Australia

NKVD: A branch of the secret police; stands for “Negro Kangz Vengeance Department.”

JVTP: Junior Volunteer Thought Police.

BCG: Basic College Girl, and the counterargument to the FNGS. It used to be up for debate, whether the universe would eventually collapse in on itself, or just keep expanding until everything froze to absolute zero. I don’t know if the astrophysicists have figured it out yet, but when it comes to solipsism, the jury’s still out. The First Rule of Clown World notwithstanding, there’s a group of FNG-ologists who claim that there is, in fact, a hard limit to how fake and gay things can get — the FNGS, at which point Clown World disappears up its own vajazzled asshole and prolapses out into an alternate universe. The mere presence of the BCG, on the other hand, argues that FNG can approach the Singularity asymptotically, but never quite reach it — if it were possible to be so solipsistic that one must, physically must, disappear into the knitted pink folds of her own pussy hat, then the BCG would’ve reached it by 2016.

BCD: Basic College Dude. Little is known about this Yeti-like creature, college enrollment now being something like 60% female nationwide; there are doubtless hundreds if not thousands of SPLACs that are technically coed, but in practice female-only.

SPLAC: Small Private Liberal Arts College. Leaving aside Bible colleges and the like, these come in two varieties: The pretentious ones that bill themselves as “Nebraska’s answer to Princeton” or something like that, and the really pretentious ones that are just sleepaway camps for the scions of the petty bourgeoisie whose parents are rich enough to afford the nut on a $75K per year “education,” but not rich enough to buy Junior 25 extra IQ points, or endow a building at an Ivy League school, or get Junior’s drug habit squared away sufficient for him to get into a real school. I’ve taught at both; they’re a hoot. Say what you will about the novels of Brett Easton Ellis, he really nailed those kids. See also The Secret History, by Donna Tartt, one of the funniest books I have ever read (it’s not supposed to be a comedy). The students of SPLACS are, of course, Splackavellies, in homage to THE stupidest song of the 1990s (a stratospherically high bar, as I’m sure you’re aware, but, as you’ll see if you click on that link — which you shouldn’t! — one that this particular ditty sails over with room to spare).

Rat Utopia: The conditions of life in the Current Year West. Based on the observations of John B. Calhoun’s famous experiments in the late 1950s-early 1960s. With one key difference: While Calhoun’s original experiment was to study the effects of overpopulation, “Rat Utopia” here assumes that the fundamental driver of the rats’ bizarre behavior was the total breakdown of their evolved survival instincts, brought on by the removal of all outside threats and permanent caloric surplus.

It is important to note that humans have evolved as if those two conditions hold: 1) the removal of all existential threats, and 2) the permanence of caloric surplus. We all know intellectually that there are lots of existential threats out there, and that we’re one good solar flare away from a global famine that will make the Irish Potato Famine look like a hot dog eating contest… but note that we know them intellectually. Genes aren’t the intellectual type.

Most diets don’t fail because the dieters lack “discipline,” as conventionally understood; rather, they fail because the dieter is fighting 1,000,000 years of inherited instinct. Similarly, our instinctive threat-processing system isn’t wired to respond to things like “rising mercury levels in fish” and “maybe there’s a drunk driver on the road.” It’s wired to respond to the growl of the tiger in the jungle. Our evolutionary systems are trying desperately to accommodate us to a deeply unnatural environment… and failing, spectacularly, because the environment is too unnatural. Hence, the bizarre behaviors of Rat Utopia.

The characteristic behaviors of Rat Utopia:

• unable to carry pregnancy to full term / survive delivery
• massive failure of maternal functions in those females who do successfully deliver
• sexual deviation
• cannibalism
• frenetic overactivity
• pathological withdrawal
• equivalent social disruption
• “extreme population densities developed in the pen adopted for eating, leaving the others with sparse populations.”
• extremely high infant mortality

Stoyak: Russian for “erection,” it originally meant “That feeling old Cold Warriors must get in their pants as they contemplate FNGAINO, because you have to use all those skills to figure out what the hell’s going on.” From there it morphed to its current usage, which is something like “an attempt to dissect the Regime’s increasingly ham-handed propaganda.” As in, since it’s in the “news” you know it’s both fake and gay, but to what extent, and to what end?

The stoyaknik (a decipherer of stoyak) must usually decide between one of several levels of stoyak:

• null stoyak, which it’s important to note is not “the truth,” because if it’s in The Media it is by definition fake and gay to some extent. Rather, this is what Freud famously said about cigars in dreams — “sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.” Null stoyak is not intended to push a message, though it sometimes looks like it must be. Rather, it’s just clickbait garbage. Consider stories about, say, “Caitlyn” Jenner. On some level, they must be stoyak, in that any story that uses the word “Caitlyn” is if nothing else an attempt to “normalize” trannies. But it’s probably nothing more than that, because as hard as it is to believe, people still click on that garbage. It’s just your bog-standard “celebrity infotainment.”
• Tier one stoyak is the “interoffice memo” kind. Think of it as the corporate newsletter of the laptop class. These are stories like “So-and-So got promoted to thus-and-such,” or “All TPS reports must now have cover sheets.” It’s true enough — So-and-So is a real person, and xzhey really did get promoted to thus-and-such — but it means something much more to the cognoscenti. This level of stoyak is usually completely opaque to outsiders. We might take it to mean that So-and-So is a real up-and-comer, but quite often the reverse is true — it’s “elimination by promotion,” as I’m sure you’ve seen at your own workplace. Stalin was famous for this — when he was about to liquidate someone, he’d promote that guy to a prestigious-sounding job outside the chain of command. That was the signal for all that dude’s flunkies to jump ship, as homeboy was Gulag-bound.
• Tier two stoyak is stuff that probably happened pretty much as reported, but for much different than the stated reasons. Think of nations (not just communist ones) moving troops around in the guise of “humanitarian relief efforts” or whatever. All those suspiciously fit guys with tacti-cool beards who show up claiming to be from some NGO you’ve never heard of? And then suddenly things start going boom? That’s tier two stoyak, because they’re not really saving the whales, or improving internet connectivity out in the central highlands, or whatever.
• Tier three stoyak is straight up obvious bullshit, to which the Opposite Rule of Liberalism usually can be applied straight up. “The Central Committee projects that the grain harvest quota from the glorious Five Year Plan will be over-fulfilled by 350%” means your ass is gonna starve this winter, and so on. “Watchdog groups express concern that the Republicans might attempt election fraud” means “The Democrats are going to be fortifying elections harder than Crom’s giant throbbing erection,” and so forth. A common subvariant of tier three stoyak is “Republicans / conservatives pounce.” That’s how the Regime finally admits to uncomfortable facts, as in “Republicans pounce on rumors of higher inflation.” That means yeah, you guessed it, inflation is through the roof and heading moonward.
• Tier four stoyak, once rare but increasingly common, is “what the fuck is this and why the hell is it here?” It’s “news” that doesn’t make sense on any level. See e.g. the recent spate of UFO stuff. Nobody seriously believes Mulder and Scully were right, and that the aliens walk among us, so it’s not tier one — it’s not telling the other branches of the Apparat to lube up for a close encounter of the fourth kind (that’s the one where you get the probe, also known as “getting lucky on a Friday night” for the kind of degenerates who hang out in Tubman DF). Nor is it tier two for similar reasons, and it can’t be tier three, since nobody believes it anyway. Which means we’ve probably come full circle, and it’s null stoyak — just clickbait garbage — but it’s so weird, and so obviously coordinated, that you have to think it means something…. but what?

Tubman, DF: Washington DC. MBlanc46 came up with this one. Obviously you can’t keep having a federal city named after a CisHetPatWhite slaveholding gun nut like George Washington, so it’ll have to be renamed, and after who better than a quasi-mythical negress ? The DF is for “Distrito Federal,” which is what they call Mexico City (the seat of government) in Mexico. You wouldn’t send mail to “Ciudad de Mexico;” you send it to “Mexico DF.” Since AINO is already a banana republic, calling the seat of “government” DF is a no brainer. Not to be confused with

Tubmans, a denomination of FNGAINO currency. They keep talking about replacing Andrew Jackson on the $20 bill with Harriet Tubman, so generally references to “Tubmans” means “$20 bills.” But there was also talk of putting her on the $10 in place of Alexander Hamilton, so….

(I really have to believe that stupid musical killed that idea. No, I am not joking. How many people are there in AINO, do you think, who really believe Alexander Hamilton was a negro? It’s gotta be some large number, doesn’t it?). Also not to be confused with

Crispus Attucks, Crisp Stacks of. As AINO is headed toward Zimbabwe-level inflation, we’ll soon be seeing Zimbabwe-style denominations of currency. The biggest Zimbabwean bill was $100,000,000,000, 000 — that’s one hundred trillion — and of course AINO is going to have to put a negro on that… but who? I propose Crispus Attucks, the negro martyr of the Boston Tea Party (and doubtless the only name taught in that entire unit on The American Revolution in your kids’ sixth grade social studies class), if only to make it easy on rappers. “I gots crisp stacks of Crispus Attucks” has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?

Crom / “Crom laughs at…” Crom is Conan’s god from the movie Conan the Barbarian. In one scene, Conan and his friend Subutai have a theological debate. Subutai claims that his god — the Four Winds, aka the Everlasting Sky — is stronger than Conan’s, because Crom lives on a mountain beneath the sky. To which Conan replies “Crom laughs at your four winds!”

Crom also laughs at anyone who comes before him without knowing the answer to the Riddle of Steel. As I am trying (and so far spectacularly failing) to cut down on my profanity, I started using “Crom laughs at ___!” as a way of cussing without cussing. It took on a life of its own, and now Crom laughs at pretty much everything in Clown World (as he would in real life, of course).

Crom has not officially been instated as the official god of the Naked Base Commandos, but c’mon man, we all know he is. Crom is also the official arbiter of FNG 1 — Fake and Gay level one, which is the most based any human can ever be in this sick sad world. The official definition of FNG1 is “something or someone at which / whom Crom would not laugh.” It’s one seriously high bar.

FNG Scale: A rough ranking of how fake and gay something is, obviously. It’s still a work in progress, but it tentatively goes something like this:

• FNG0: The hypothetical baseline, so based that everyone is forced to call you Usul. Like FNG11, “the Singularity,” it cannot be reached on this physical plane. It’s the Platonic Form of Based.
• FNG1: Someone or something at which Crom would not laugh. The based-est (it’s a word) anyone or anything can get in this monad.
• FNG2-4: About the best anyone can reasonably do in Clown World.
• FNG5: The Clown World baseline. Pretty fake, fairly gay, but since it’s relative you can still stand to look at yourself in the mirror… out of the corner of your eye, from across the room, with the lights off and the curtains drawn.
• FNG 6-7: The Democratic Party.
• FNG 8-9: The Republican Party.
• FNG 10: A prison shower gang bang by pre-op trannies dressed as My Little Pony characters. The fakest and gayest anything can possibly be this side of the Singularity.
• FNG11: The Singularity, the point at which Clown World becomes so fake and gay, it disappears up its own vajazzled asshole and prolapses into an alternate universe.

Sasqueetchia X. In general, the nom de guerre of any Diverse female academic. Specifically, the newest White House press secretary, the Ginger Goebbels’s replacement. Not to be confused with

Jumanji X., the most recently appointed Supreme Court Justice.

Naked Base Commandos (NBCs) / the whole “naked” thing / medals etc. A bizarre form of “owning the insult,” since the readership here is probably 99.9% male and we oink it up on a regular basis, so accusations of misogyny etc. sometimes come our way. The joke is that Liberian warlord General Butt Naked, who is absolutely a real person, is our spirit animal…. which is horrible, if you know anything at all about the real man and his actual behavior, which should clue everybody in that it’s a big fucking joke, in case that isn’t really really really really really really obvious already.

The General’s real group called themselves “the Naked Base Commandos,” and, well, if you are interested enough in this site to look it up in the Glossary, you no doubt understand how it kinda took on a life of its own around here. It’s funny enough as is, but in an interview later in life, General Butt Naked described his group thusly: “We were nude, fearless, drunk, and homicidal.” Which… I mean… how else are you supposed to get through life in Clown World?

The whole “medals” thing was already something of a running joke, but it quickly got folded into the NBC thing. Which leads to the obvious question of where, exactly, do you display all those medals? The General himself laid down in the regulations somewhere that Naked Base Commandos are required to wear sneakers and carry a small purse, so you can use those if you like. Pickle Rick, however, discovered that they make great tintinnabula (you probably shouldn’t look that up, especially an image search), and, well.. there it is.

As the main job of the Naked Base Commandos is to uphold the Butt Naked lifestyle, it’s only natural that, once commissioned, you’re allowed — indeed, strongly encouraged — to award yourself and others many, many medals at every possible opportunity (medals are found in the big barrel o’medals, feel free to take a few just for reading this entry). NBCs are also allowed to propose others for membership, with prospects not in any way limited to living people — historical figures are eligible, and while the subject of literary characters hasn’t come up, I strongly suspect they’d be eligible for at least honorary membership.

The most recent candidates for membership were Adm. Isoroku Yamamoto (universally approved); Gen. Zhang Zonchang (didn’t even require a vote, as a guy dubbed “the basest warlord” by no less than Time magazine is in automatically, and indeed has to rank just below Gen. Butt Naked himself); the guy who played Niedermeyer (the character from Animal House; the jury is still out on honorary membership); and pop icon Rod Stewart (he’s in, having charged his girlfriend — a Bond girl back when that meant something — rent to live in his house; he just has to accept).

As the original NBCs were not a co-rec outfit, there are no General Orders covering female membership… literally covering, in this case. But since we do have some female readers for some inexplicable reason — and we love you, ladies, it just doesn’t compute — we’re forced to wing it. I think the standard is “An outfit that wouldn’t get you thrown out of Hooters… either way.” Medals should be worn as pieces of flair, or if that’s too uncomfortable, as hair scrunchies.