Thomas777 (bandana, long hair, shades) vs. Barrett (delicate features, earrings, fashionable sweater)
  • (Top) Notional average TPN listener

  • (Bottom) Actual


The Perfume Nationalist will necessarily have a final episode. Everything episodic must. The end will occur because, one by one, all of the soldier-redolent boys who hurl themselves olfactorily at Jack will dare to voice a single criticism each. So in turn will other fans. These are all people who… have no reticence to speak their minds.

Jack – with no capacity to tolerate dissent or criticism, even while regaling us of his tales of growing up gay, fat, popular, and well-adjusted (also right about everything) – will block every one of them. After the Ice‑9 manner, soon there will be no one left to block. Jack’s fan base will be as corpses gauzily visible beneath the frozen Thames.

Thus will conclude the Perfume Nationalist – “delivered to an audience of no one, for no reason.”

Our friend Jack the Perfume Nationalist (it’s an eponym that, like Charlie, he has no choice but to wear) is well on his way to blocking, denouncing, unperson(n)ing, and freezing out his entire fan base one at a time.

  1. I was first on the receding ice floe.

  2. Fascistic cinephile, frequent guest, and crack-of-dawn irritant Ty E (no relation) was next to be excommunicated.

  3. Then the show’s unwanted third-wheel faghag cohostess, Jugs, was mysteriously airbrushed out of future photographs of Jack with his boyfriend and that lady from Red Scare.

    (Was Jugs shitcanned because that other Red Scare lady refused to appear on the Perfume Nationalist if Jugs were there? Shall we transcribe Jugs’ reminiscences of how she almost but not quite started her own show for the Right Stuff, aimed at crypto-fascist wymmynz?)

  4. Soon enough, the queen of TPN underachievers, recherché arctic polyglot Grant Cook (q.v.), dared to profane the sacred name of Paglia and had to be pushed overboard – and not in any Hitchcockian Lifeboat manner, either. (The next tripwire shall be Michael Jackson.)

The same fate will befall any number of Barrets or Barretts, mestizo Brendans, LDS missionaries, tough guys who live for Angel and live out of their cars, and beloved Catholic art podcasters. (I warned the last of those already.)

Jack’s BF unit and that Red Scare lady will reënact the last hours of the Ceaușescus – baffled by the route by which they ended up against a brick wall, about to share quite the black Christmas.

Recall Jack’s stated philosophies of blocking

  • Say what you will about blocking[,] but every time I see an egregiously awful tweet or everyone’s mad about a particular account on here I click on the tweet and it turns out I already have the person blocked, no idea who they are, because you can accurately judge from v[ery] little info[.]

  • Love that people pretend it’s noble and brave to engage with random anon antagonistic reply people instead of banish[ing] them to the shadow realm forever because it’s really easy to read whether people are good or bad on here[.]

  • “These tweets are protected”: Oh, AKA this person is a baby who’s addicted to Twitter but won’t even properly participate in it, gotcha[.]

  • There’s literally no reason to post anything if you have your account locked.

The unstated philosophy of this stated enemy of censorship is “distribute a pre-blocking list.” Soon enough, Jack will run out of other people’s money (reckoned in Patreon memberships).

A mere three podcasts have changed men’s lives

Joe Rogan’s, Jordan Peterson’s, and our friend Jack the Perfume Nationalist’s. All are Howard Beale–style false prophets of the airwaves. (“Mad prophet” was what Beale was called in Network [q.v.]. I’m not changing my statement.)

I can think of three reasonably obvious methods by which our friend Jack could secure the annual hundred grand or so he would need to liberate himself from his quotidian shackles and become the god-emperor of cinephilic parfumerie he was meant to be. But Jack is like his listeners, and indeed like the listeners of the other two men’s-life-changing podcasts. He, and they, have no ability to monetize their intelligence, a topic so perennial it has its own category here.

I concede that Andrew Tate, whose factotum actually invited me to one of his Eastern Bloc bimbo/cigar retreats, is correct. He who gets rich is he who spends all day thinking about how to get rich. Why am I three steps ahead of Jack there?

Moreover, let’s recall that the man who demands his acolytes buy physical copies of everything refuses to make money selling physical copies of his own show. Indeed, his brother Peter (“Speed”) lampooned that idea on air.

Still the only coverage of the Perfume Nationalist

Jack’s lifelong enemies in the military–industrial–entertainment complex have enacted a commensurate lifelong omertà against him. He’ll barely ever even be acknowledged. Jack has nought to complain about there, as he does the same with the kulaks he excommunicates.

I cannot be eliminated. The articles will continue until morale improves.

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2021.12.28 17:53. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:

I maintain this list since Artforum cannot manage to render or typeset such a thing.

  1. Annette

  2. Summer of Soul

  3. Vortex

  4. France

  5. The Most Beautiful Boy in the World

  6. Mandibles

  7. Red Rocket

  8. The Tragedy of Macbeth

  9. Saint-Narcisse

  10. The Onania Club

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2021.12.02 13:23. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:

Your beloved wife turns into a bitch a decade and a half into your marriage. When she divorce-rapes you, of course she keeps the kids and cleans out your joint bank account – but she also accuses you of collecting porno (of your children, it is implied) and other illegal material in your storage locker, whose keys she took with her.

Flickr is that bitch of a wife. After more than 16 years as a member (a paid Flickr Pro member since 2005), within the last two weeks this oft-resold, ever-failing photo-storage and ‑publishing site:

  • lied that it issued warnings to me of “restricted” videos and other items, and of copyright infringement, via its near-hidden internal mail system and to a Yahoo account I had to log back into (where such messages do not exist)

  • gave me three days to rectify the so-called restricted videos, which days came and went, at which point Flickr simply deactivated my account after 16 years

  • eventually let me log back in, whereupon I discovered that my account, the only one with 33,000 items 100% of which were tagged and safety-designated, had been deemed “unsafe,” which designation is intentionally undefined in its documentation

  • reset the safety levels of thousands of items to Restricted (and – this too is undocumented – expects me to manually reinspect and re-designate all 33,000 items)

  • so severely mangled the logged-in and public views of my account that all such views were contradictory (some photos were shown in public view, or only 2,000 of them; Photostream showed no public photos; Camera Roll [a superset of everything in one’s account] listed as empty)

  • cancelled my paid Flickr Pro account, but kept it ostensibly active and invited me to renew it

“If you aren’t paying for the product, you are the product” is a bumper sticker, not a truism. Here I am paying for the product. I also did not publish porno or any remotely prohibited content. I never use this term, but I find it actually homophobic to be accused of having done so, not only because I laboriously maintained the best metadata of any user on Flickr. (Not just safety designations and tags but machine tags.)

I spent 16 years as party to a class-action copyright lawsuit. (We won.) I am as well-versed on copyright, including U.S. law, as a civilian can be. Flickr could point to only one item that was allegedly infringing. It isn’t, so I filed a DMCA counterclaim. That very day, Flickr deactivated my account again. (I had also updated my About page on that service to state that Flickr had fucked up my account and was lying about my having published pornographic and infringing items.)

When I hear the words “trust and safety,” I take out my revolver

Flickr’s parent company is a failed photo service with the apt name of SmugMug. CEO of both branches is a batshit Northern California social-justice warrior, Don MacAskill (“Anti-hate. [H]e/him. Black Lives Matter”). Flickr is such a commercial moneypit that its official Weblog begged civilian users to upgrade to a paid account. I’ve been paying Flickr for almost two decades.

Not only is Flickr accusing a gay man of publishing porno (and a copyright expert of infringing same), it has learned nothing from the experience of Patreon, whose terms of service required the use of binding arbitration. So many arbitration claims were filed against Patreon (no fewer than 72) on the topic of Owen Benjamin’s suspension that Patreon soon required an infusion of millions in vulture capital – and, incredibly, in outright donations – in large part to defend against an avalanche of arbitration claims, informed observers believe.

Under arbitration, what was plain as day was actually noticed: 17 of Patreon’s 100 highest earners publish furry or anime porn and other items that could be called degenerate. Based on experience, Silicon Valley’s soi-disant trust-and-safety “teams” are fond of only two things – alarming pornography suited to their own perversions (all of which they permit on their respective services) and of course censorship.

Let’s find out what Flickr’s Trust and Safety team is really into.

There is no viable alternative

Flickr has no competition. To suggest Instagram for that role is laughable to a man who’s been online for three decades. (The reasons usually cited for Instagram’s villainy – Facebook owns it, and it doesn’t censor conservatives enough – are barely half right.) Even if a plausible competitor were in operation, Flickr is holding my own property hostage, which on its face amounts to a 33,000-count case of copyright infringement. Sunk cost is not a fallacy.

Flickr for photos is like Air Canada for domestic flights. Miss Jan Wong (two newspaper columns, November 2001 [edited]):

My stories in yesterday’s Globe and Mail described how I had boarded four Air Canada domestic flights last weekend and managed to pass through security with an array of sharp implements. […]

Air Canada is banning me unless I sign a letter promising I will never again carry “any knife or knife-like object” onboard its planes….

OK, OK, I’ll sign…. After all, if I can’t fly Air Canada, what am I supposed to do – buy a broomstick?

This week, Air Canada’s “law branch” sent me a long, somewhat incoherent letter reminding me about an article I recently wrote in this newspaper. In it, “you publicly acknowledged and detailed that… you knowingly carried cutting instruments” onto four Air Canada flights. They want me to promise I’ll never do that again….

In the same letter that it is asking me to sign, Air Canada lists “prohibited conduct.” This includes intoxication, drug-taking, smoking, violent and abusive behaviour, failing to buckle your seatbelt, and talking on a cellphone.

According to this rather long list, “prohibited conduct” does not include bringing sharp things onboard. But perhaps the law branch forgot.

The dangerous weapon Air Canada dislikes so much, of course, is not the box cutter, but the pen. As I said, I’ll sign. I’ve finished the story. And I’d like to resume my status as one of Air Canada’s long-suffering customers.

Flickr is in a world of trouble

It has only a few days left under U.S. copyright law to restore access to the allegedly infringing item. Even with about 700 followers (I also carefully maintained that list), Flickr might foreseeably go bust fighting arbitration claims. Even my upcoming complaint will cost tens of thousands in legal fees. My costs will be capped at 250 greenbacks.

I asked Flickr questions for attribution about why it lied repeatedly and why it spuriously deactivated my well-maintained account, but I am not going to report its responses here. Flickr can make a public statement, which I’m sure will be as honest as that bitch of a wife’s sworn testimony in divorce court.

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2021.10.26 10:54. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:


It is torture to read a novel not just because nobody in it goes to the bathroom, spends every night watching TV, or surfs obsessively on their phones, nor just because the novel was permanently discredited by David Shields’ Reality Hunger as a Victorian form that has not evolved. (I’ve never been the same.)

I decided to fact-check my ass. I looked through Publishers Weekly and (lying) Times best-fiction-of-2021 lists, located novels set in the present day, and downloaded their ePubs via Library Genesis. I set about searching through these full texts for telltale tokens:

  • email E-mail · E‑mail · electronic mail

  • TV · television · show/program

  • bathroom · toilet (⁓ paper)

  • Facebook · Twitter

  • Gmail · AOL

  • laptop

  • printer

  • Skype · FaceTime · WhatsApp · iMessage

  • social media · social-media

  • Spotify · iTunes · Pandora

  • stream · Netflix · Hulu · Amazon

  • texted (only that token)

  • voicemail

  • website · Web site

After plowing through three E‑books, it became clear that the discriminating tokens were exactly and only email (that rendering; confoundable with voicemail), TV (case-sensitive), and bathroom. So for the remainder of the subject cohort, only those tokens were searched for. (I’ll still report variant renderings from those first three novels inspected.)

Novel email TV bathroom
Apples Never Fall 9 17 + 37 15 + 3
Assembly 3 1 1
Beautiful World, Where Are You? 48 4 18
Bewilderment 10 2 4
Chronicles from the Land
of the Happiest People on Earth
12 2 3
Cloud Cuckoo Land NIL ␀ 2 32
Second Place NIL ␀ NIL ␀ 1
A Shock 3 4 + 7 + 4 39 + 14
The War for Gloria 7 33 31
Wayward 10 4 5
The Wrong End of the Telescope 10 NIL ␀ 29

Accordingly, and contrary to my postulate, only Cloud Cuckoo Land and Second Place conjure worlds we are not living in. Second Place cannot even acknowledge that TV exists, though it does go to the bathroom once.


  1. Beautiful World, Where Are You? includes something resembling a self-parody, or a sentence from a TOEFL study guide:

    Opening a private browser window on her laptop, the woman accessed a social media website, and typed the words ‘aidan lavin’ into the search box.

    (Did she type the single quotes? Publishing cartels remain incompetent at typography and copy.)

  2. Assembly: “I almost start scrolling, down to where I know I’ll find my sister’s name, with the link she sent me yesterday to some show or other we’ve both been wanting to see. Instead, I let the screen dim, then flick, to nothing. Absent my phone’s glow, the dark is perfect.”

  3. In Wayward, “TV room” was one usage. Then, for bathroom: “ ‘Who puts a bathroom off a kitchen, you know? And this door—’ ”

  4. Apples Never Fall even acknowledges talk shows: “In fact, Savannah seemed to treat her and Stan as if they were talk[‑]show guests and she the host.”

  5. I did not include tokens found in publishers’ front or back matter, self-evidently.

  6. Hillary Clinton’s coauthored book was unlocatable. I rather expect it mentioned email.

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2021.10.25 18:33. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:

An amazingly original piece of work by Tilcsik et al., “Concealable stigma and occupational segregation: Toward a theory of gay and lesbian occupations” [Administrative Science Quarterly 60(3)], came up with a theory of which occupations gay males and lesbians might choose, then tested that theory. The results are so accurate the whole process seems like it was run in reverse.

The authors propose that gays and lesbians both prize “task independence,” i.e., potentially homophobic bosses not breathing down their necks. Both groups further prize “social perceptiveness,” which could be seen as actually applying one’s social skills instead of keeping them in reserve.

The bothersome point in the paper is entertaining the idea that gay males’ and lesbians’ job choices are a puzzle. I can’t take that puzzlement seriously. It amounts to wilful blindness on the part of gay-money researchers, who reach for ever-more-bizarre and counterintuitive explanations for the jobs gays and lesbians do. They’re just not willing to admit that gay men are too sensitive to duke it out with straight guys on the job (my terminology). Oddly, they’re also not willing to admit that a lot of dykes are diesels who are perfectly fine repairing such engines. Everything is dressed up as discrimination or some kind of youthful trauma (see below).

Tilcsik et al. helpfully quote some other research that shows discrimination is not a plausible explanation for gay and lesbian job choices. That’s as plain as the nose on your face, or the acute accent in András Tilcsik’s name.

Running through a set of statistical surveys, what jobs did the authors identify as typical of gay men and lesbians? You’ll never guess!

Female‑ and male-majority occupations with highest proportion of gay or lesbian workers
Highest proportion of lesbians among female workers Highest proportion of gay men among male workers
Female-majority occupations
  1. Psychologists
  2. Probation officers/correctional treatment specialists
  3. Training and development specialists and managers
  4. Sociologists
  5. Social‑ and community-service managers
  1. Flight attendants
  2. Hairdressers, hairstylists, and cosmetologists
  3. Nurse practitioners
  4. Transportation attendants, except flight attendants
  5. Travel agents
Male-majority occupations
  1. Bus and truck mechanics and diesel-engine specialists
  2. Elevator installers/repairers
  3. Heating, AC, and refrigeration mechanics/installers
  4. Home-appliance repairers
  5. Security and fire-alarm systems installers
  1. Actors
  2. News analysts, reporters, and correspondents
  3. Artists and related workers
  4. Agents/managers of artists, performers, athletes
  5. Producers and directors


Meanwhile, leftist gay publications (tautological) continue to lie about the legitimate gay and lesbian community. A glorified blog of some kind claimed that gays’ near-invariant choice to enter untroublesome cultural occupations or quiet office work instead of shipping out to the oil rig is straightforwardly the result of bullying in school.


Gays are temperamentally different from heterosexualists, save for the uncounted few gay boys who were masculine from birth (and, for example, always liked football). I have read what I believe is all the research on that topic and have asked scientists directly, yet nobody has an estimate of the percentage of young gay boys who are, in effect, straight-acting. That’s how rare they are.

Of course the rest of these boys are going to become, say, stewardesses or actresses. Getting called a fag in high school, which would now get the harasser booted out of that school, has no bearing on anything. Indeed, faggy young gay boys can really fuck up straight boys’ lives by untruthfully squealing to the principal that the real boys called them a name. It’s the maladaptives who have the power now.

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2021.09.07 20:00. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:

Apple will now forestall implementation of its threat to inspect your private photographs and text messages, and eavesdrop on your Siri commands, for suspected kiddie porn. The entire infrastructure is wrong in principle, but critics of Apple’s plans have their own ideas of what “principle” might entail, and it always means “make sure my political enemies are harmed but my allies are protected.”

It was particularly risible to read that Apple’s surveillance mechanisms might be reused by some kind of authoritarian or repressive régime. Apple already is one of those. Its authoritarianism merely pleases the political biases of the far-left Apple press. [continue with: Apple already is a repressive régime →]

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2021.09.06 14:32. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:

Hey, Retard! is what the game-changing E‑mail software from Basecamp is not called. Its name is just Hey.

The great Jason Fried of Basecamp, author of so many bestsellers on usability and the futility of meetings at the office, charges you a hundred bucks for the worst E‑mail software in three decades. Hey.com is the IBM PCjr of electronic mail. [continue with: Simpletons and slow children now have their own E‑mail software →]

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2021.07.21 17:22. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:

Shawn “Toxic” Smith will bill you 200 bucks an hour for men’s therapy. (No less than that fee – for philosophical reasons, he states.)

Relationship Repair

I offer solution-focused couples therapy to eliminate hurtful, destructive patterns and create a loving and supportive relationship.

I dared to E‑mail Smith regarding an unrelated issue. He replied by calling me names and musing that a certain flavour of burden he imputes I am dealing with is my entire fault. He’s the hurtful one, yet I am deemed to engage in destructive patterns.

I infer that Smith will take your money and fake like he is nice and caring in the Frank Mackey manner, all the while shit-talking you behind your back. He’s willing to malign gay men he’s never met, so I put little past him. In no respect is this tolerable behaviour from any kind of analyst, let alone one who uses the title Dr. and boasts he is licensed.

Though I was only ever a listener, I recall better treatment from call-in shows on AM radio in the ’90s. Shawn T. Smith is indeed toxic, hurtful, and destructive, and he is a danger to any man seeking his help.

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2021.07.19 16:26. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:

The ecosystem elliptically orbiting Jack the Perfume Nationalist has become what it beheld – liberals. A crowd of underachievers, these artists’ vice is nothing so déclassé as heroin or as trailer-park as fentanyl. It is psychopathic cruelty.

As I have explained at length over my decades online (a corpus far in excess of anything the TPN demimonde has produced in totum), what I have called downtown progressives decide to inflict opprobrium and ostracism on an unworthy, then justify their mobbing as the very least he deserves.

A downtown progressive is a liberal in Jack’s nomenclature. Like André the Giant, Jack’s got a posse, and I’ve had them mob me the way BLM and antifa (and black guys on the subway) have done.

The art podcaster’s vice is mislabelling an ardent supporter a vexing adversary (in their argot, a “hater”) and pillorying him directly. And, in Jack’s case and his brother’s, passive-aggressively writing me up on Twitter. Jack is ringleader of the tormentors.

These guys are all underachievers. I would expect something resembling class solidarity from a cohort all of which listens to Aimée Thérèse, the fastest talker this side of Eminem.

  • Jack has simply not figured out how to monetize his brilliance and works a front-desk job dealing with neoliberal yuppies he loathes. On Canada Day a decade ago, I listened to an Adam Carolla episode in which he was explicitly coached and schooled about how to make money in podcasting. Deservedly or not, who’s the millionaire now?

    Umpteen straightforward options are available so that Jack can bring in a hundred grand a year and pursue the intellectual leisure he and everyone else agree is his birthright. He’s doing none of it.

  • The latest defamer, a 49th-stater with the facial laxities of the visible depressive, can’t get his upstairs neighbour to stop blasting rap music and just barely upgraded himself to office lady, a position I had held in the previous century.

    Grant Cook and boom mike

    This little man ruined my day today. He, like Jack, calls himself a Christian, or at least they allow Trans Regret Snoopy to believe same.

  • The mastermind behind the second-best art podcast, Ghost Jail, works a 9‑to‑5, as do the passel of Barret(t)s in this circle. Even Jack’s brother is surrounded by cubefraus on all sides. A boisterous fan is purgatorially consigned to a health-food co‑op. Then there’s that insurance adjuster.

Of course they’re frustrated. But the scenario here is the same as Jack’s: I’m right about everything, and another thing I’m right about is you guys have decayed into a liberal mob who can’t wait to express the bottomless hatred that springs from the frustrations of your stunted careers.

I don’t initiate shit. I show up pre-blocked on Twitter. (Jack’s lies about forgiveness and generosity in this regard gall still.) On luckier days I can actually talk to these men. One of them hasn’t turned on me yet (Zion is still to fall). The rest have.

In their view (the view of the liberal), I deserve it. I deserve so much more.

The psychopathy of the TPN-adjacent underachiever is far worse than pulling a Heath Ledger and leaving a beautiful corpse. While amassing unique works of art, building them up episodically in formats that can be destroyed in a flash, these wayward manchildren put a whole lot of day-to-day effort into nastiness and cruelty.

This distributed gang warfare by skinnyfat podcasters brandishing Bijan like a sigil is something they’re quite proud of. In their Walter Mitty– or Billy Liar–redolent imaginings, they really would harangue me in person. They really would take it to the next level.

Overall, this is the wrong way to be a tortured artist, and these are life choices you can unmake on a dime. Since that’s how much you’re basically making on what has become your life’s work, take the advice.

Skill-testing question for TPN acolytes

Is your first response to this posting to lash out even more?

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2021.07.18 18:53. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:

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