With One-Year Anniversary the Event Horizon, ModState Embraces Smooth Transition into Year #2

Not everyone foresaw just how thoroughly successful the first year of ModState would end up being on any given metric, let alone that it would increase its launch day traffic by over 17,000% and spend a mere $433.00 on social media marketing on the year. The sum total of all moving parts, when compiled, is a picture that no one short of God saw coming. Yet, in the midst of the strain and seemingly near-chaos of marking the emergence of a new media outlet in a stereotypically cutthroat sector of journalism, God could hardly argued to be far from the combined efforts of the joint staff and its aims of helping the insurgent ModState LLC become both a profitable and civically-responsible firm. If such an argue was to be launched, we would most certainly love to be in on it.

Needless to say, at this point, the first year of ModState‘s full-fledged, post-launch existence has been a full one and it’s not over yet. That’s entirely the sort of pirate mentality (that “we’re not even done with a year yet” mentality) that has enabled us to cut through the beleaguered fat and know (full well in advance) that two things are beyond self-evident heading into our second full year of operations: first and foremost, for any underdog struggling against so massive of odds as we are, there is no real tomorrow (or so one in our standing must feel in proverbial terms) and second being that (beyond our own healthy pride/self-respect) we’ve got absolutely nothing to lose from this enterprise. This, these two factors combined? These two things juxtaposed in the same camp make us very dangerous to idle bystanders within our industry (those resting on their laurels and/or sitting on their lilies) and thusly sexy to random passerby.

Beyond the obvious, expected piecemeal measures of most in the media sector and the media-viewing public in this nation, ModState has yet to be beset by the kind of godlessness vividly embraced and portrayed in “V For Vendetta” and taken for granted by the merciless, intellectual austerity unwittingly portrayed by Salon,. Nevertheless, unwitting or not, it’s just as present there as the deserved “guilty” verdict for the arson of honesty by POLITICO in their haste to take editing and marching orders from the Clinton campaign not far-removed from the entire Brazile-gate affair(s). In the grand scheme of things, ModState has not secured a significant investment (much less any series of investments) and has, again, little more than a handful of moderate sponsorships in size and scale to date. Notwithstanding, short of a fall of Atari proportions, the first and final fiscal year of ModState LLC will end in the black confines of profit (however slim).

Before anyone judges the prior statement with dredd, know that the LLC is merely being absorbed by a full-fledged “C” corporation. That is, the anticipated benefits provided by our being encapsulated by a Limited Liability Corporation (LLC) are set to be duly overshadowed and outnumbered by the foreseen hazards of the same. Therefore, the LLC will be absorbed by and into the newly-formed corporation of DeViney Enterprises, Ltd., also founded and operated in The GNO (Greater New Orleans), specifically, Metairie (central-ish New Orleans), Louisiana. Each of the current primary financial stakeholders of ModState are present and accounted for in the new enterprise only to be joined by a new slate of allies (albeit limited in their current mass and scope) and imbued by a relative flush of equally-ascendant operating capital and cash reserves. By no means indicative of any semblance of guaranteed success, what this does guarantee is that while our first year will officially end on a financially-successful string of positive notes in terms of profit, however minor, and therefore set the stage for the continued expansion of the immensely-strong building blocks we’ve set in place to date.

For one, the continuity of staffing continues both at a corporate level (with our board of directors unchanged save for the addition of Chief Technology Officer Peter Clevenger, currently out of the Washington, D.C., metropolitan area) and in terms of our editorial staff. The latter is set to unveil several key additions prior to our official one-year launch anniversary (30 April, 2017) but all current leadership posts and integral personnel placement(s) remain congruous. Yours truly remains in the GM-esque role of managing editor (continuing to oversee the necessary mod and maintenance of editorial policy, contributing edits and review of the same as necessary whilst generating my own editorial product, et cetera) and Gabe Coker persists in his recently-cemented post as senior editor. As for the rest of the best, they’re staying put also. Again, several critical, thoroughly-talented additions are set to be made, and on the technical aspect of the staff of the site-proper, Samuel Wheeler (designer of the original/current ModState logo) remains on-board for another term as graphic design editor.

For second/thirds/finals (for now), et al, there’s some items (such as staffing additions) and design and promotional editions of “things” that aren’t being revealed or unveiled at this time because we’re holding to a few surprises for our one-year anniversary because we damned-well please. Rest assured, it’s all good and only stand to serve as even more thoroughly ingratiating baseline beacons of just how underrated we’ve been in our first year of formal operations and, subsequently, just how damned confident we are that our best in undoubtedly in front of all of us (as in wayyyy ahead of us all) in no small terms, unequivocally. Period. As we continue to round out our 11th full month of operations here with a few polishing moves this weekend, thank you all for sticking around to find out more about not merely this weekend and not just this month but also for the coming year. Let me just say, also with no semblance of doubt, more than one surprise awaits those worthy heroes in our regular audience (meaning all of our readers) on the day of our one-year launch anniversary. So, with that, tuning in on 30 April, 2017, will mean a lot to more than just us. You’ll be glad you stuck with ModState, if nothing else, for at least that day of “once more” breach-type stuff, i.e.

In the meantime, before the weekend does close out, please feel free to drop us a line (we’ve got Facebook feedback forms all over the site and also our e-mail address is clearly linked on the sidebar). I’ll not list it for you here, y’lazy! Find it, and we’ll know you mean business and want your letter not only read but also cited and responded to publically in our upcoming “Mailbag” feature. If not, fine then, don’t! Au revoirs!

DeViney, Jack

Gonzo State: [Untitled]

“Bentley! Bentley. I suggest…I suggest that you do something different with your life right now.” This instruction was delivered by my boss (at the time) to his unruly Huskie, but it might as well have been given to my entire generation.

As always, the day had given way to night and my mind had wrestled with itself long enough. I needed sanctuary, strong drink and a blank expression with which to watch the news on screens behind the heads of the locals. With the mind of a fried pie I careened my car down a thoroughfare of an unincorporated town in West Virginia, roughly sixty miles from Washington D.C.

“Babylon,” I came to call D.C. as a Sailor stationed in Bethesda, which was appropriate enough that no one cares to question the nickname. It was by a sense of awe, despair, disgust and reverence that I came by it the hard way some years ago.

The Christmas lights around Arlington had shone brightly on my most sentimental evening, awash with history and the sort of romance that saw my Army counterpart’s cheek against mine, her words in my ear accompanied by my kiss on her neck.

Then, the other shoe dropped and zang! I’m departing the parking garage of Target near P.F. Chang’s, a sudden desperate attempt to keep a fellow servicemember alive and out of trouble, and barely having arrived in Rockville, Maryland, found myself in the company of a remarkable amount of police officers. While all was eventually sorted out (one way or another), I did discover that being handcuffed, face down on the pavement amidst a soft rain gave me an amazing opportunity to learn and reevaluate the nonsense I’d allowed a foothold in my life. “Teachable moments,” I’ve come to call such events with a wince oft confused for a smile, and rightfully so.

Let no good deed go unpunished.

“It was all downhill from there,” I uttered to my glass and coaster on the bar, awaiting another potent haul of ethanol. “Or is it, ‘down on the bed’ from there? Not nearly as catchy.” The general uproar that passed for ambience as karaoke loomed large made my private social commentaries a non-factor.

“Hell,” I continued, mulling over the equal parts glory and horror of yesteryear, “if I was a woman they’d’ve labeled me a slut.” This was most certainly true, as I had responded to the eventual collapse of the genuine, heartmelting romance that blossomed in Arlington by carousing. I went on to live up to the archetype of heathen in the Navy, only I hadn’t needed a new port. D.C. had an endless supply of trysts for me to temporarily bind the wound of heartbreak with. I had largely imploded things with she myself, but damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead, aye?

“Aye, got it!” I said, louder than intended as my libation arrived. Few noticed, none cared. But I digress.

Every single horror of the corruption of public life crept its way into Walter Reed the two years I’d been there as the primary Army and Navy hospitals merged there in Maryland. It was a handful of miles from the epicenter of our Federal Republic, our Representative Democracy. Whatever label you prefer, the genuine, tender romance and the unnecessary legal crucible were equal parts of the same story.

So it was yesterday and is today and will be tomorrow. Wars and rumors of wars will abound along with the usual ugliness, while the bountiful opportunities, resplendence, and monuments sacred to America and Her Republic will ring hollow for any looking for that chapter. However, for those with a soul not set for self-destruct, there was the beauty and elegance and love that I discovered in Babylon. For my part, I vacillated between the cauldron of brutality and the essence of hallowed humanity.

Lucifer and a third of his fellow angels rebelled (at least in part) over the perception that God valued something fashioned from dirt over them; we hamstrung ourselves with our humanity during that time (2011-2013) in Bethesda, both our frailties and our strengths.

Did we make the case against humanity with our failures? I’m not so sure. The defeatism and Apocalypticism of the admittedly conflicted era that was the “new” Walter Reed circa 2011-2013 stands apart from now in several ways. Without the deflating drudgery of rattling them all off, at the very least one could look their friends and enemies in the eye. Betrayal and intrigue might be lurking around the next corner (per the modus operandi of Babylon and the government circuit as a whole) but those seeming eons ago politics was still the art of compromise. Then-POTUS Obama (D-IL) and then-House Speaker Boehner (R-OH) can hardly be soberly accused of engaging in the politics of blood sport we’ve now.

Now? Depending on their background, looking one’s enemies and/or friends in the eye might get you flagged on any number of social media platforms and could very well get you labeled with some sort of “-ism”, as one type of “-ist” or another. A whole decade ago Section 230 was applied within the spirit of its creation, lending the happenings online a sort of Wild West vibe when juxtaposed to the great cosmic gag-reel taking place now.

“What is Section 230?” one might ask. This, too, is a well-placed and unscripted question, but it makes little difference when Louis Farrakhan can spit his vile verbal excrement at hapless passerby on social media, but not Donald Trump. No, indeed. Hardly an avid defender of the former POTUS, I nonetheless present our Federal support and protections for our Silicon Valley overlords as Exhibit A for the how/why (either/and/or) the Federal Communications Commission has adequate pretext to cry foul. This is tantamount to “collateral censorship”, or censorship by proxy. That’s the biggest item George Orwell didn’t foresee in my favorite novel, “1984”: private enterprise conducting the censorship, and not the state itself.

Since I’ve likely lost anyone who hates The Donald for my defending his First Amendment rights, I might as well toss a grenade in this burgeoning dumpster fire. Wouldn’t Joe Manchin lead off that way?

“The wind only blows sometimes.” “He’s exactly right!”

While hardly the binary option both the Communists of the Far Left and the Fascists of the Far Right want all the Sheeple to give an “Amen!” and believe, the conflict between being a John Locke liberal in favor of largely laissez-faire capitalism (not the crony kind) with a strong, (but) limited Federal government and in wanting a respectable return on our investment in Section 230 protections granted Silicon Valley (and company), it is amusing on a perverse level.

“Afterall,” I told myself, “everyone hates a centrist, so you might as well enjoy it, Jack. The good news is, only White elitists are storming off after closing your column a few paragraphs back. They can kick rocks. There’s surely a Mother Jones article or athletic mutant defecating on the very flag that enables their miserable existence out there, somewhere, that they can flee to. Still miserable, but they showed me! No First Amendment for the people who make us think and shit.”

It was only at the end of this paragraph that I realized I wasn’t just thinking this as I tapped it into a note on my phone for later insertion into this very diatribe. I was muttering much of it out loud.

“Ignore the madness of a world that has made this swashbuckler appear normal. Ignore the celebutante-rejects aghast at those not absorbed in Chinese spyware ‘social’ apps available on any mainstream App Store.”

And why not? Afterall, the Communists now want the populace to swallow the latest swill their Thought Police have puked out, and nod slowly, basking in the wisdom of the notion that Black children being taught mathematics is racist. Conversely, the Fascists want the citizenry at-large to embrace their latest, unintelligible Reductio Ad Absurdum that beating cops to a pulp while shouting racist terms at the non-White officers is okay as long as they’re patriots. Thin Blue Line and all. “Thin Blue Line”, you ingrates? Put the straw down.

“Dear God Almighty,” I mumbled into my Long Island Iced Tea, nearly gone due to the urgent need to anesthetize myself. No reply, and not because He wants us to forget He exists, but because it’s the pizza we ordered, and it has arrived with all the trappings. Whose fault is that?

The lunacy in the former example is in those on the Far Left who by proxy think the Black intellect is so dormant, psyche so timid, that there need be no Black doctors, economists, engineers, et cetera, in the future. Mathematics is a rather integral part of the process of those career paths. Who’s holding who back with racist ideology again, exactly?

The madness in the latter example is at least as vivid and particularly poignant from people on the Far Right who think cops can do no wrong. You say The Filth went too far in Example X? “I say they didn’t go too far enough!” some neo-Successionist will bleat with the fervor of a patriot, by God. Just a patriot to another country, and not this one. But why quibble about it? Sure, seems reasonable enough to pass muster on “Squidbillies.”

Imitation being the highest form of flattery, the method to the unorthodoxy of this publication has never been less necessary. Both extremes in the sadly binary world of Castro and Mussolini neophytes demand the long-term vision, the sort of engaging in politics (again, “The Art of Compromise”) as a year-round endeavor that there is no app or “hack” for. The marathon, not the sprint, is what is at hand. I’d rather flatter the Edward Brooke III, the Alexander Hamilton, the Barbra Streisand, the Hunter S. Thompson and even the Master Shake with imitation than embrace the intellectual suicide of either Irredeemable America or Exceptional American Unilateralism.

Whichever clown car takes the stage from either extremist wing of discourse, they both will assure us that we’d feel so much better if only we’d embrace their brand of groupthink. Tsk, tsk, I know, but such is the rot of the putrescence we’ve inexplicably opted to wallow in.

What both teams of malcontents mean is we’ll feel much better carrying all of our favorite shows with us on all of our devices as they continue embezzling and funneling money to the duopoly in Babylon. The royalty on Capitol Hill will then reward our wholehearted faith with continued malignant governance and further insolvency on every level (social, fiscal, geopolitical, et al).

“Who knows?” I mumbled with a shrug. “With any luck, the dead will walk again and we’ll have an existential reason to disallow the Neanderthals in Congress from fucking the same coconut over and over while saying they’re carrying out the people’s business. All, naturally, with a straight face. And pursed lips. Can’t forget the ‘duck face.’ Gotta meet my fellow Millennials halfway.”

“You say something, Hun?”

The bartender had taken notice of my glass being devoid of strong drink, and grew concerned. Animals entering sexual congress with fruit, however, passed muster.

‘Of course it did,’ I thought, but could only reply with a low rasp as I exited my barstool.

“Yes, Ma’am. Check please.”

And on the 8th day, God made bears. Lots and lots of bears.

Does this era need introduction? Or, rather, may a suitable introduction be written? I report, you deride.

1: In any rational era, the sudden appearance of lurid photographs of well-known public figures tends to happen without the consent of those captured in the images. Jennifer Lawrence, Kate Upton, Anthony Weiner, et al. Notable exceptions to this are of the celebutante variety who sport last names such as Hilton and Kardashian, but then, their deliberate release of self-incriminating material isn’t indicative of a rational era.

That there’s a Stairway to Heaven but a Highway to Hell is indicative of expected traffic volume.

The great Jerry Falwell, Jr., well his undeniable greatness as an Evangelical Christian minister and university president is so ineffable, so vast, that he was no longer able to be confined by any notion of modern decency. If that’s still a thing, that is. Either way, the photograph posted containing the erstwhile head of Liberty University (and descendent of the late and decent Jerry Falwell) is disturbing on several counts. Let’s take a look:

Now, I’m not sure if it’s the ghastly attempt at humor (yeah, “black water”, haw haw haw!), the self-caricature of the gut and the unzipped pants combined with the awful rug on his counterpart (who is not his wife, for those keeping score at home), the fact that students of said Evangelical university get expelled for drinking and/or extra-marital sexual encounters, or that this wasn’t a leak at all that makes this such a disgrace. He could’ve just said it was a faux Black Dog in his glass and been done with it.

The man (so-called) “leaked” it via his own social media aperture, and then delivered a truly abysmal mockery of an apology on-air, and I quote: “I’ve promised my kids I’m going to try to be…I’m gonna try to be a good boy from here on out.” Rock and Roll, Jerry!

Oh and Mrs. Falwell, when your marriage does end, remember: you [expletive deleted] your rebound, and that’s it. You don’t permanently abscond from reality and keep [expletive deleted] them long-term and/or marry them. Especially, I might add, if you plucked them from the extras of “The Walking Dead.”

Silly me. But seriously, though: booze and Evangelicals and social media shouldn’t mix.

2: At times, the headlines write themselves. In their own attempt to swing loose with reality, as it were, Iran has a fabricated aircraft carrier resembling one of those wielded by the United States Navy. “Why”, you ask? An entirely unscripted and well-placed question. For their own propaganda purposes that is, until the entire experiment blew up in their faces. Living out their own version of “delirium tremens”, Iran was so successful in this charade that their accidental destruction of a prop US Navy aircraft carrier poses a threat to a major thoroughfare in the oil trade. Posing an existential threat to traffic in the Strait of Hormuz, and things apparently unbeknownst to Iran such as tides can shift the wreckage, endangering oil tankers.

Give the Ayatollah our best. Speaking of “the best”, if you’re going to challenge the world’s preeminent naval power, you’d better come correct. The Battle of Evermore this is not.

3: Biden must face Trump in debate(s). Yes, it’s answering a “double dog dare” from the POTUS and no, you don’t want to give in to the whims of a bully. But if you don’t follow through then it looks like you’re hiding in a basement and afraid to face Donald J. Trump on the stage. What’s the worst that could happen? They then “triple dog dare” one another to a lindy hop dance-off to the “Misty Mountain Hop” or hand out four sticks (one to both members of each ticket) to swing with? Why would you be afraid of that if you’re in the Biden camp unless, per the Trump camp’s assertions, the former Vice President will be unable to remember whether he’s going to California, or another, “y’know, the thing” that the Founding Fathers said? The great equalizer is the human ego. They’ll debate.

This is an event waiting to go wrong. Don’t hang out with bears. [image credit to Daily Caller & Barstool Sports]

4: Meanwhile, the National Park Service has posted a warning urging American adventurers not to confront bears but, if they do, to not take advantage of their slower companions. And no, this is not made up. Nor is the response of a pack of humans, recently, to a bear arriving in their midst. They didn’t flee or otherwise attempt to discourage the bear; instead they took pictures of their merry band whilst feeding the bear. Good call, ‘Murica.

5: Bill Barr’s appearance was a disgrace for everyone except the Attorney General. For committee chairman Nadler, to open the hearing with that statement was an outrage; and Jordan, thanks for the monologue on things that happened before Barr was back on the job and for God’s sake put your damn coat on!

6: Stat of the Week: the POTUS’ campaign is knocking on 1 million doors a week; the former VPOTUS’ camp is knocking on 0. As in ZERO. Z-E-R-O. This sort of nonsense only seems like nonsenseuntil the time when the levee breaks. Underestimate the mad media genius of The Donald at your peril.

Y’know what? Let’s just cancel everything. If everything’s priority one, then nothing is priority one.

“If being crazy means living life as if it matters, then I don’t mind being completely insane.” – Kate Winslet

There’s a fundamental breakdown that, for whatever the reason may be, is completely disregarded by many modern Americans. While there are so many behaviors that can be clarified on a psychological standpoint, this one isn’t presenting itself quite as easily as some other predominate issues. Fifty years ago, mental health wasn’t a recognized issue. There was no reasoning or justification for people suffering with such, only that they were traditionally characterized as a bad person. We come from a civilization that, 50-100 years ago, men would institutionalize their so-called weaker parts for some of the most mundane reasons; superstition, novel reading, tobacco use, masturbation, etc. Thank God that doesn’t happen anymore, right?

Consequently, the ship turned, starting on the daybreak of the 21st century, to a focus on mental health. We have the Boomer generation that started to classify themselves as damaged and recognized there was a problem. The Boomers came from parents who were the product of the Great Depression and World War 2 which, from the psychological viewpoint, we can take a look at the time and infer that while they were traveling into adulthood, the focus was more on a Country as opposed to the needs of an individual. This outlook coupled with extreme PTSD from the lack of basic needs and war time elements brought to life the behaviors of “sweeping it under the rug.” We then had the Boomers raise the generation coming into adulthood now who are focused on mental health. “Focused.” At least mental health matters when it fits and supports an agenda. Before we go further, I am not and will not relate politics to mental health. In this context, they are in no way or form related. There are snowflakes everywhere people; stay woke.

I will be the first person to say that I absolutely love the fact people are more focused on mental health. I truly do not know how I would react in a culture that didn’t and there still are countries where that is not highly recognized. For anyone that has/does suffer with anything in the mental health category, it’s an extremely comforting to know there is some safe space and people that do understand its real and it’s not going away. Adhering to this train of thought, there is a big difference between needing a safe space because you are trying to work through an issue and because you refuse to admit that it’s ok for people to disagree with you. They are not the same thing and never will be.

Let’s talk about this disparity. In the grand scheme of things, we are not special, our feelings only matter to ourselves, and if we don’t do something, America is going to be governed by a bunch of oversensitive, ill-informed, entitled children; this doesn’t sound very promising to me. However, I’ve been wrong before.

“If you’re going to be crazy, you have to get paid for it or else you’re going to be locked up.” – Hunter S. Thompson

If you made it thus far, you’re thinking, “What’s the point here Brittany? What are you getting at?” When is the last time that you have seen a peaceful protest? When is the last time you have seen multiple groups of the modern Americans that differ on views come together and either achieve the agenda or at least agreed to disagree, and didn’t end up looking like a bunch of snotty nosed, bratty children fighting over the last cookie? It’s cool, I’ll wait. When did we lose the social capability to have the basic respect for other people regardless of political stance, race, economic status or literally any other way you want to group people? When did we have to start grouping people anyway and then treating them differently just because of such? When did we forget that the Constitution protects freedom of speech? PSA, the Constitution also protects ideals we may not agree with.

Looking at current events, we have a group of people aware of mental health but refuse to accept that people differ in their views and when that difference does come about, we then choose verbally and/or physically attack those that do not agree. For what? We are mentally aware enough to know that abuse in any form causes trauma, trauma then has the potential to create mental health issues, however, in that same sentence we will condemn any person to just that, solely because they do not agree with our ideals. Anyone else confused?

The late, great Dr. Seuss wrote, “A person is a person, no matter how small.” How and when did we forget this? How do we now have people that have been friends for years removing each other from their lives just because of who they voted for during the last election? How do we say we care about each other in such a primal way as mental health and with the same tongue cause the trauma we were still healing from? Most importantly, why? Why are we so stuck on being right as opposed to just agree to disagree?

With One-Year Anniversary the Event Horizon, ModState Embraces Smooth Transition into Year #2

DeViney, Jack

Gonzo State: [Untitled]

Six Degrees of Knowin’ Nothin’: [Untitled]

State of Mind: A Person is a Person