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Even though genocide rapper Simon Bikindi, Rwanda’s Michael Jackson as he was dubbed, was very equivocal with his lyrics, his war crimes’ conviction is very relevant to what Pussy Riot, the French Olympians and NATO’s other hypocritical hate speech advocates are getting up to today.

Bikindi’s lyrical content, anchored as it was in local lore, is whatever the opposite of the ’60s Peace & Love Hippy music was. “It is the duty of all Muhutu to arise and exterminate all the cockroaches” does not quite hit the same notes as does San Francisco which was written in 1967 at the height of the Vietnam genocide.

Briefly, the International Criminal Court found that, though rap songs like Bikindi’s ‘I hate Hutus‘ sent out a message to all listeners, his core audience knew well that the genocidal “work” required of them entailed slaughtering any and all Hutus, who helped the Tutsis subjugate the Hutus.

Although Bikindi pointed out that the government commissioned him to write the songs he stood accused of writing well before the genocide began, that he was in a relationship with Angeline Mukabanana, a Tutsi and she, in turn testified that Bikindi hated no one, and was simply a money grabbing opportunist on the make, the CIA’s jokers in the Hague gave him 15 years, even though they agreed his lyrics were notoriously difficult to decipher.

Given that all three of Bikindi’s main compositions were composed, produced and recorded prior to the 1994 genocide, it can be easily argued that the Rwandan government cynically used Bikindi’s music as a way to further provoke tensions between Rwanda’s two main ethnic groups. NATO’s victors thought otherwise and banged him up; in a chilling warning to all of us being targeted by NATO’s hate speech evangelicals today, scholar Martin Cloonan argues that because Bikindi’s Twasazareye turned “from simple hate speech to a demonstrable element of consciously deployed call to genocide”, Bikindi deserved the long sentence he got, even though he played no part in that transformation.

Although Bikindi counter-argued that he was being tried for expressing his freedom of expression, no one would deny that Bikindi was very talented and that his raw talent helped immensely in making his songs staples of the political rallies and extremist radio broadcasts that played pivotal roles in fueling the 1994 genocide. Although the same argument could be made regarding the rock music Yankee soldiers listened to during their Vietnamese turkey shoots, no one in their right minds could put forward that defence for the inter-connected Russian, Irish and French morons we now turn to.

Russian group Pussy Riot shot to fame, not because of their talent but because NATO was delighted to see this group of delinquents desecrate Moscow’s main cathedral and call Russia’s secular and religious leaders all the foul-mouthed names they could.

The fact that the CIA’s Amnesty International got Elton John, U2, the 91 year old Yoko Ono and some other shills to sing their praises does not change the fact Pussy Riot are devoid of talent and are not “one of the world’s foremost political activists”. They are, simply, a bunch of Russian slappers NATO weaponised against all things Russian as part of its preparations for war in Ukraine. To support that point, here is an account of their “concert” in Switzerland, where “senior citizens, young students, women, regulars of L’Usine, curious people or political activists” paid good money to hear these idiots harp on about “Pussy Riot’s illegal show in Moscow’s cathedral, Alyokhina’s jail time and escape…a criticism of the Russian Orthodox Church, its head Patriarch Kirill of Moscow, and Putin’s links with the institution and the Patriarch” before “the four members knelt in front of the audience in a cynical prayer to Mary.”

Although the review admits Pussy Riot are talentless slappers, it says their strength lies in their convictions and “their whole-hearted commitment to their militancy is what gives them this fascinating aura, allowing them to cross borders and make their voices heard internationally”.

Although the review argues that “Pussy Riot is the perfect example of using art to communicate”, I think the Cossacks, who whipped them in Sochi, were much better communicators in that regard. Although we’ll have to agree to disagree on that one, Pussy Riot are part of a new cultural trend, where CIA stooges roar their heads off, like they are having an epileptic fit, and audiences are told they must lap it up. Irish rappers Kneecap typify this trend.

Although Kneecap mostly rap in pidgin Irish, almost all of their efforts, when translated into English, go something like this: I love SNOW, sniffing a baggie with my nose, It is deadly. I hate racist gobshites. But I love snow and black transvestites.

Not only does the British government fund these plastic radical retards, who are based in the West Belfast heartland of the IRA’s notorious D Company, but they and their various sidekicks in Northern Ireland Screen, the Irish Language Broadcast Fund, Fís Éireann/Screen Ireland, the BFI (awarding National Lottery funding), Coimisiún na Meán and TG4 financed their movie, appropriately entitled Kneecap, named after both themselves and an infamous D Company torture technique, whereby the IRA would give their victims a so-called six-pack, 38 calibre shots to the knees, ankles and elbows, thereby crippling the victim for life.

The movie, for what it is worth, is abysmal, its plot closely follows Kneecap’s Wikipedia entry and consists of a series of short cuts in West Belfast of the band members legitimising IRA violence and sodomising young Protestant women, when not out of their heads on all imaginable drugs. Though obviously produced on a tiny budget, Kneecap, which is Ireland’s pathetic entry to the 2025 Oscars, has been described as “One of the best music biopics ever made” (NME); “Big, Booming and Fearless” (RogerEbert.com); “Bursting with unruly energy that practically escapes the confines of the screen” (Variety); “Clearly destined for cult status” (Screen Daily); “Riotous and Rebellious” (Hot Press); and “A must-see film that has it all” (Today FM). The film received its World Premiere at the prestigious Sundance Film Festival in January 2024, where it won a NEXT Audience Award, the first Irish language film to win at the festival. It went on to play at Sundance London, and was the opening film of Galway Film Fleadh, where it won three prizes, including the Audience Award. Although the CIA’s New York Times has also given this pathetic garbage a rave review, this revealing video shows Kneecap’s knees going like the clappers, suggesting either some severe abuse of cocaine or some severe mental problems or, of course, both.

Kneecap are not Ireland’s only compromised New Wavers. Here are the Mary Wallopers praising Johnny Adair‘s C Company, UFF, which were notorious Protestant sectarian killers. Even though the Mary Wallopers (code name for Catholic killers) are based in South Armagh IRA’s Dundalk stronghold, one has to wonder if these Protestant plastic Paddies are just another Pussy Riot, who are paid to project faux radicalism against the Catholic Church and all the CIA’s other usual soft targets. Certainly, the music world is open to abuses like that and audiences with Mick Jagger, U2, Elton John or any of the other geriatrics, who came out of their hospices to support Pussy Riot, can do wonders for one’s career, just as they did for Irish singer/slapper Imelda May.

Before turning to the Paris Olympics, it is important to note that what all these government funded radicals have in common is a lack of talent and an absence of any semblance of decency or sound aesthetics. And though these cretins see themselves as transgressing norms regarding extreme violence (“kneecap” and hymns to sectarian butchers), how we consider aesthetics (Bambi Thug and Panti Bliss centring ugliness in their routines), conventions around respect for other people’s beliefs (attacks on Christianity and Ulster Protestantism), because they can’t exist without the targets they are attacking, they are anti-art and anti-culture. Real art and culture in sophisticated society, such as Bikindi’s, is additive and does not celebrate ugliness, make unprovoked attacks on the views and traditions of others, celebrate transgression and glorify violence and offense for their own sake.

Although the jury is still out on Simon Bikindi’s fine music, there can be no doubt that Pussy Riot, Kneecap and their affiliated charlatans are part of a bigger transgressive trend the Opening Ceremony of the Paris Olympics epitomised. Having a group of degenerate drag queens offer a mocking pastiche of Leonardo’s da Vinci’s Last Supper sent out a clear message that the IOC, French Intelligence and Europe’s other CIA carpet baggers behind this outrage were trying to be the midwives of a transgression from the flesh and blood of the old and original Eucharist, that da Vinci’s masterpiece represents, to a new and putrid Eucharist, a black and blasphemous Mass that we are all being summoned by Pussy Riot, Kneecap and D Company to partake in.

The image these imposters chose to desecrate was a piece of Catholic art, made for a Catholic order by a Catholic artist. Its power both as a symbol of the Last Supper and as a piece of art derives its authenticity from its Catholic nature. It portrays the juxtaposition of the institution of the Mass with the realisation that apostolic betrayal is to act as a catalyst for the coming Crucifixion, but also the coming Resurrection. The transubstantiation of the bread and wine will, according to the Catholic subtext, become the means for transforming the human heart of the disciple.

Though the French imposters aim for a different form of transformation, it is the same transformation Pussy Riot have been paid to serve, and it is the same infinitely blasphemous one with respect to Mount Athos that Steven Karganovic recently drew our attention to.

Here, by way of contrast, is the opening ceremony of the 2008 Beijing summer Olympics and here is the 2020 Beijing winter Olympics‘ opening ceremony. No stupid messages from obese lesbians, just the Chinese showing they can handle a global spectacle without breaking a sweat, without leeching off others and without causing offense.

But then, whereas the Chinese, who put those shows together, are comfortable both in their own skin and within the base of their own deep culture, Bikindi entangled himself in his own culture’s contradictions and Pussy Riot, Kneecap and the obese French lesbians never had any culture to begin with. All they had was the ability to mock and, whether we are talking about da Vinci, Mount Athos, Noah’s ark or the Olympics, CIA mockingbirds like them, and like the terror gangs of Bikindi’s Rwanda, are creatures of the night and the dark that we and the beautiful, new world evolving in front of us can both do without.