Ghost World

by Stephen Hollett


I know it's been out for a while, but if you're ever perusing the video store looking for a movie to rent, don't make it "Ghost World." This movie, directed by jew Terry Zwigoff, is the quintessential example of anti-White propaganda. In fact, when kike Zwigoff is dragged before a justice of the New World Order, it is this film that prosecutors will use to sentence him to death by crack-crazed nigger.

The story is about two bitter, sarcastic girls who are graduating from high school. They are, of course, disgusted by America's vapid, consumer-driven society -- you know, where people actually have to work to buy the things that they need to survive. One of the girls, Rebecca, played by Scarlett Johansson, is a pretty White girl (albeit a piss-poor actress) who slowly becomes something really awful -- a shallow consumer. She gets a job, rents an apartment and is even seen shopping at Crate & Barrel! Meanwhile Enid, played by Thora Birch, is a sassy, misunderstood 'non-conformist' who just wants to create great art and figure out what's wrong with the world. And of course, as we're reminded several times throughout the movie, Enid's a jew. Enid, being the rebellious intellectual type, flunks art -- so she can't graduate high school until she re-takes it in summer school. She goes to summer school, sits in a room full of shallow, mostly White students and -- oh, the humanity -- the clueless White teacher doesn't recognize the depth of Enid's art.

About twenty long minutes in, Zwigoff's inane dark 'humor' becomes totally unbearable -- and perhaps he realizes this. So, to recapture his borg-like liberal audience, he throws in an ostensibly unrelated scene from a local convenience store where a friend of the dynamic duo works. Courtesy of a problem customer in the store, we now meet the director's apparent interpretation of 'White trash.' He's the stereotypical White nightmare, complete with farmer's tan, mullet-from-hell, spinning nun chucks and spouting some ill-informed interpretation of the Bill of Rights. You know -- ranting about things that only lunatics demand, like freedom of speech, etc. He's an absolute parody of homophobic, non-liberal White Americans. And the brainwashed masses guffaw uncontrollably...

In steps Seymour (played by Steve Buscemi). He's a pathetic fortyish loner that collects old 78 records. At first perceived as a dork, he eventually achieves god-like status with Enid. Mostly because Seymour hates everyone, is also a pseudo non-conformist, only listens to negro ragtime and blues artists -- and he is deeply disturbed by a "whitewash' that he discovers at his place of employment. In fact, Seymour proves this whitewash by showing Enid an old placard from Coon's Chicken, which was a company later recreated as Cook's Chicken to hide this outrageous injustice. It is here that we begin to see how the intrinsic corruption of the White corporate world is keeping a brother down. And how racism against minorities never really goes away, it just gets repackaged and blah, blah, blah.

Enid offers the Coon's Chicken sign as her art class assignment, and copies Buscemi's tired monologue verbatim to explain her motivation for submitting this piece of 'art.' This leads to an absurd censorship scene at an art gallery where the toothy, big-lipped negro sign is ripped down by a fat White woman and a posse of well dressed, yuppie bruthas. Eventually fortyish Seymour and eighteenish Enid wind up in the sack. This is a creepy scene that can only come from the depraved jewish mind -- and a scene that I suspect led to countless hours of fierce masturbation for Zwigoff and his ilk. The movie ends in a confused artsy statement about life's journeys and breaking away -- attempted in true jewish fashion. Because Zwigoff, like fellow hack Spielberg and other Israeli directors, desperately wants to communicate on an intellectual level -- to present brilliant philosophical statements without speaking them. But they can't -- because jews are copiers not creators. And all the money in the world isn't going to turn any jewish hack filmmaker into a Tarkovsky or a Ford or a Welles or a Bergman.

What really bugs me about "Ghost World" are Zwigoff's surreptitious mise-en-scènes. He uses the landscape to tell much of the story and to justify Enid's teen angst. The world is a miserable place all around her -- that's why she is the way she is. When Enid and Rebecca are arguing out in front of their new apartment, a White woman walks by, pregnant and smoking a cigarette. While Enid walks down the street, there's a lunkhead White guy wearing a Burger King hat and stuffing his face with fast food. In the video store, it's a White guy that doesn't know the difference between Fellini's "8 1/2" and the trashy movie "9 1/2 Weeks." It's also a White guy that calls Rebecca an "Aryan" and goes out of his way to use the word 'jew' in his communications with Enid; with idiotic statements like "How are you jewing today?" Meanwhile the young and attractive Enid and Rebecca, presumably in Los Angeles or another multicultural paradise, walk unescorted down the street day and night without fear of robbery or rape. You see, in "Ghost World" only White people and their democratic, capitalist society are the enemy. If all people were smart, creative jews like Enid, the world would be just perfect.

I don't have a problem with "Ghost World"'s fundamental statement. I wish more people would reject the ordinary, that they'd study art instead of law, or learn a new language instead of memorizing basketball stats. Every commercial I see for painted September 11th memorial quarters, Ab-Rollers or the Psychic Friends Network makes me want to scream. But Zwigoff creates this mixed message mess that ignores the very root of America's consume/breed/obey culture -- that it's oftentimes signed, sealed and delivered by jews. Who the fuck else was selling clip-on flags on September 12th for $29.95, or $25 gas masks for $500 plus shipping?

Instead of buying or renting this movie, buy a gun. Then go to the range and learn how to defend yourself with it.

STEPHEN HOLLETT

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