Rutgers students hold up copies of the original Centurion from '05. They're restarting it.

jamesokeefeiii  
Rutgers students hold up copies of the original Centurion from '05. They're restarting it.

prezpeene The Cap N Skull exposé was one of the greatest pieces of journalism I've seen in my lifetime

NJO: Source: Instagram.

Speaking to students at my Alma mater #Rutgers

Speaking to students at my Alma mater #Rutgers - anyone can be a citizen journalist! http://t.co/sKN6fX8tDC - 2013-02-21 01:58:53

http://twicsy.com/i/omVKkd

To Catch a Journalist: Rutgers Education Professor in Pay-for-Play

Uploaded on Nov 22, 2011

Bruce Baker of Rutgers Graduate School of Education on tape talking about "inking deal" with Ohio union and "playing with data." We ambush the Dean of students with the tape and Dean tries to take our camera and computer. We follow up on Huffington Post report.

NJO: Title, video and blurb from James O'Keefe's YouTube channel VeritasVisuals.

Minions / fellow culture warriors involved:

John M. Howting
Spencer Meads
Christian Hartsock

John Howting

Spencer Meads

Christian Hartsock

To Catch a Journalist, Part I - Sam Stein, Huffington Post

Uploaded on Oct 24, 2011

Pulitzer Prize winning journalism professor Dale Maharidge says White House Correspondent Sam Stein "boozes" sources up. Sam Stein denies and covers up Pay-for-play scheme with Professor Jeff Keefe at Rutgers University.

NJO: Title, video and blurb from James O'Keefe's YouTube channel VeritasVisuals.

Minions / fellow culture warriors involved:

Christian Hartsock

Christian Hartsock

James O'Keefe shows up at a meeting of Rutgers University Student Assembly

RUSA President David Cole called the police on CENTURION founder James O’Keefe on February 13th, this time, for “Disrupting” (attending) a “closed-body” (illegal) meeting.

Cole (and the lawyer he forked over) must be “sourd-muet” to N.J.S.A. 10:4-6 to 10:4-*2, which establishes the right of all citizens to attend meetings at which any business affecting the public is discussed or acted upon.

Rutgers police officer Paul F. Fischer did show up, kindly asking the suspect in mention to leave. But not before remarking, in confidence to James, “If you weren’t that guy from the CENTURION I’d have you in handcuffs. I’ve seen the online videos and I’m a huge fan, so I’ll let you go.” We’ll have the video up soon to prove it.

*Veritas vos Liberabit*... Such a motto rings very true here.

Originally printed in The Centurion, March 2007 issue, printed March 2, 2007. The video of this happening is nowhere to be found on the web.

The American Flag at Rutgers: The Shame of Old Glory

THE SHAME OF OLD GLORY

By: David J. Maxham III

Last week, along with some fellow students[*], I went to Old Queens to ask if the Rutgers administration would consider putting American flags in classrooms. While I’m still not sure if we were surprised or if we expected the response that we got, it was saddening nonetheless.

 On our way to Old Queens, we interviewed students on the street at random. Without exception, each agreed that the American flag should have a place in the classrooms of Rutgers’ hallowed halls. And really, why not? As one girl put it, “Well, it is the State University...”

 Our first visit was to Assistant Dean Julie A. Traxler, who told us that she felt putting up the flag was “a bad idea” and that our time would be better spent on “other things.” Dean Traxler was quick to change the subject once we told her that we knew individuals that were ready and willing to pay for the flags. Incredibly, she expressed her dismay that there were people out there willing to fund flag in classrooms, but not our Rutgers sports programs. Horrors!

 Next we spoke to Brian T. Rose, Assistant to Gregory Blimling, Vice President of Student Affairs at Rutgers. When I asked if we could hang American flags in classrooms, Mr. Rose didn’t miss a beat. “I don’t think so... but I’m willing to check into it for you.” Mr. Rose’s immediate logic was such: if one student group – for example, students who love America – put up an American flag, then that opens the floodgate to any other group – like the terrorism apologists at NJ Solidarity – to display a “message” of their choice. Or, as Mr. Rose put it, “Do we make our classrooms available for people to put up whatever message they want?” That’s an interesting question, albeit rhetorical.

 Apparently Mr. Rose hasn’t been in a lot of classrooms recently, because many lecture halls and rooms are littered with posters and flyers, some of questionable and possibly offensive content, many of which have nothing to do with the subject taught in those rooms. Never mind the fact that courts have already ruled on the issue, finding that the American flag in and of itself does not constitute a distinct message belonging exclusively to one or another group or entity. It’s too bad people like Mr. Rose live in a world called Academia, a world that lives by its own rules, infringed upon by no external authority, least of all an authority that might disagree with Academia’s radical – and often anti-American – worldview.

 We also paid a visit to Dean Michael Stillwagon, whose response included the brilliant deduction that with the American flag, “there’s an issue of propagandaing [sic].” Bad grammar aside, the notion that the American flag, minus any additional text or images, comprises “propaganda” is so mind-numbingly stupid that it hardly deserves a response. However, considering that this mindset seems to permeate the Rutgers faculty, my response is forthcoming.

 For two hundred and thirty years, Americans have fought and died under the American flag. It was a symbol against British colonial oppression, and for the more than two centuries that followed, it was a unifying symbol for the millions upon millions of immigrants that came to this country – my own ancestors included. Our soldiers are buried with the flag, and the flag adorns every institution that makes our great Republic function. The flag doesn’t belong to any political party, any race or class, any sectarian ideology, any private club.

 In short, the American flag belongs to all of us; according to the Supreme Court, even desecrating the flag is protected by the ideals of liberty the flag represents. For any official, either in the government or at our beloved alma mater, to eschew display of the one thing that all Americans have in common ought to be a matter of scandal and shame. Let’s end the politically correct garbage, and return Old Glory to a place of honor in our classrooms and in our consciousness.

NJO: Originally published in the September 2006 issue of The Centurion.

* Also James O'Keefe, who by this point was no longer a student, at Rutgers anyway.

Here's to you Zach

A tribute to my friend


Once upon a time an outsider was led by a strange being through time and space to an alternative paradise on earth.

In this paradise people spoke the language of the swaying trees and were capable of understanding their intense love. They spoke to those trees and looked at the stars, and talked about the stars to each other with an immense knowledge that was higher and deeper than any scientific knowledge could fathom. These people were unconcerned about how they were perceived – they had an incredible gift to not incite jealousy and envy in the outsiders who interacted with them, for, the people that lived in this alternative paradise came so close to being altruistic that they made the outside braggart and liar kiss their feet and cry tears of amazement – perhaps most amazing to the outsider that interacted with the people in this paradise was how they were not tempted to impress or impart himself; to boast or forcefully show off whatever relatively small talents or knowledge he had. In short, the love in Paradise to the outsider was immediately contagious, and all around was an environment of service. The people did not worship, but were constantly aware of an uninterrupted living union with the Universe at large. Their love was a song of appreciation for nature, earth and sea. The words they used were almost unimportant, trivial, or maybe beyond the grasp of reason. No matter, the meaning behind them somehow sank unconsciously deeper and deeper into the hearts of outsiders. And the harmony was enchanting and beautiful and so intensely true. They were playful, high-spirited with gentle, self-sufficient, and contemplative rapture, even when confronted with death.

after some time, the outsider does, in fact, manage to corrupt the people in paradise – they begin to understand the lie, from that, know sorrow and treat shame as a virtue. Isolation brings about injustice which in turn brings about law. Alliances and countries form as proportion and harmony begins to weaken. Finally, suffering is glory. The outsider, aware he had caused all this just by being around the people for some time, witnessing this evolution over thousands for years, demands to be crucified – for sorrow and martyrdom entered his soul with such force he was uncourageous, incapable of killing himself – for it felt like he was already dying.

Then the outsider awakes, all this was, simply, a dream. And who was once a ridiculous man who wallowed like a nihilist through life imagining the world as place only his conscience, now a man who knows the truth. The Truth: People can be happy and beautiful without loosing their ability to live on earth. That truth can be so simply realized: simply by loving thy neighbor as thyself. And that was only in his dream. As such it is a living image of hope that leads a previously ridiculous man on the right path, even if such a dream can not be put into words or communicated to others, It can be realized immediately, the world could be rearranged in an hour, if only we truly wanted it to be - only if we loved our neighbor.

The incredibly poignant and somber existentialist allegory aforementioned is Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Dream of a Ridiculous Man. 

I’m going to be honest, and say that after I read “The Dream of a Ridiculous Man” I cried.

I cried for someone I consider my friend, Zach. I’ve always believed that in life you count your friends with your fingers. Zach has always been non-envious, non-scornful, non-lying breed. Truly supportive, truly joyful truly appreciative, all-embracing love for that which is around him. But it does not matter what his relation to me was when I cried just then. My tears of joy, though not sad, were excruciating – I anguished because I felt touched in a contemptuous world that hasn’t allowed me to be, in my moment of vulnerability, but protected privacy, I experienced true love for a friend, the real love, and for the briefest of moments with that love I realized his words, “too busy spending too much time placing consciousness above living, too busy placing knowledge above happiness, too busy dismissing states of happiness as fairy tales” – it was not elitism, I was intimidated by this love, so much so that I bowed my head down in a sort of shame as the tears fell to the desk. And what was my intense feeling of love for Zach in that beautiful moment? A sort of fond appreciation of who he was, and how he was, how he to me represented the people in the place Dostoevsky describes. Someone who truly does love thy neighbor – who looks out for others, who has indeed reached out to me. And as I, James O’Keefe, wandered through Rutgers, from a Freshman year ridiculous-man roommate who scorned and lied, I stumbled into somewhat of an angel disguised as Zach. I cried also because hopefully this will enable me to look for the good in all people, all it takes is a desire to choose to serve, to be virtuous. And I have only a couple true friends, people like Zach, I cried because I realized their truly beautiful qualities are disguised to the world and as a result, unappreciated, maybe because people like us are too busy feeling ashamed, maybe because us outsiders are too caught up in the wrong impressions of dress, style, manner, or taste, that beauty becomes wrongly relative – maybe because good people truly are aloof (most beautiful people have a tendency to be) that we take for granted our potential best friend: a person who is wise, who cares, who gives. We surround ourselves not with our friends but with those who are powerful, witty or attractive. While these qualities may overlap, they are not correlated with what we know to be true.

After my moment of intense tears, it was like I was before without much of the fervent passion I had acquired in that intense moment, it was then I realized living like the person I admired was simple, but not easy. For a heterosexual man to love a woman neighbor without sexual thoughts, or to love a man without being accused of being gay, in this world, is tough. All the more reason to look up to the men that are capable of feeling it all the time – that are capable of being too busy loving to even care about what we think of them.

So here’s to you Zach.

A man who never once thought about himself – and to someone that studies how to be a better person, focuses on truth rather than form. Although me met each other recently, I have never known someone so selfless and so decent. You're one of the more honest and sincere people I've ever met. And thankfully, I got to know you well. I've never been happier with you as my roommate. It's just a pleasure to be with, you are a positive, optimistic, person - and one that made my Rutgers experience a positive one.

Once we got past the politics, or the quarrels, debates, funny as they were, I got to see the real man, still entrenched in his beliefs, his passions, such as LBJ, but having “good times” all around.

I can not tell you how proud of you I am. you are going to graduate school, graduated with highest honors and part of Phi Beta Kappa amongst other awards. I know that one day you will achieve your dream (you've probably already achieved a few) and change from the little engine that could to the little engine that did - and your students and the university you teach at will be better for it. And for one of the first times, I am not envious, I am truly happy for all that you are.

You are an example to the world, and you will make the world proud.

Your friend,

James

NJO: Originally posted on the blog Feathers of Steel at liberabit.blogspot.com.

Tolerate This

By James O’Keefe

Note: This is an authentic “slam” poem written in the Winter of 2003 in my passionate, reactionary response to Annie DiFranco.

It is to be performed in the spoken-word/hip-hop format.

Very few people at Rutgers are about to agree with what I have to say

But because you believe in acceptance and diversity

I’m ‘bout to say it anyway

You think you’re all Peace?

You think I’m all war?

You don’t know what it is we’re fighting for

It’s kill or be killed and we’ve been killed before

You don’t seem to understand the fundamentals of war

Like anxious butterflies behind closed doors

You imply utopia, logic you ignore

You disagree with dieing hard likes its

Some choice to make

You defy society like it’s some claim to stake

Hurry up and bitch because tolerance won’t wait

But we can’t let impatient hippies determine our fate

You blame this nation

For what madmen have done

On the Eleventh of September, 2001

You Support Palestine

But ignore about their laughter

Emanating from their celebrating the hating of Jews and destruction of America

On the day after

You use shady language and class dividers

You label suicide bombers as “freedom-fighters.”

You’re pro-harmony but never stop causing noise

Still

Against Capital

Against Capital punishment

Against Capitalism

On the Steps of Capitol

Hill

Sometimes it seems from your unpatriotic screams

You’d rather be in chains

In a Communist nation where a dictator reigns

Your ignorance just thrives when you describe

Bush as a Texas cowboy running astray

You stereotype him so I can stereotype you

Smoking weed and drinking your double cappuccino latte

How does it feel?

Just deal

No blood for oil but gas prices to high for sale

No tax cuts but stash the cashed check in the mail

You won’t make sacrifice for homeland protection

You often question but never offer suggestions

You’re in constant defense of criminals somehow

You persecute people for not being politically correct

Who’s hypocritical now!

You make up slogans and accusations

Believe anecdotes without a single citation

Brand me a racist with an agenda to gain

Hand me your bluff but I’m tough not insane

You spit on our honor cause division and pain

When you say the victims died in vain

Sitting on your pedestal of judgment

So-called “tolerance,” progressive, cosmopolitan, comfortably, cool, seriously doubting

Whining and pouting

Shouting against Inequality for the disunited States

And rising crime rates

You don’t care about the cause, just want the effect

You Dine in the paradigm the military you hate is trying to protect

You think I wouldn’t die for this country you’re wrong

I realize America’s where I belong

So you can stab me with your words

Protest me to the ground

Call me a fascist, racist, selfish clown

But I wont’ let hypocrites put me down

I’m American and I realize how fortunate you are

Why your teacher made you salute those stripes and stars

It’s ok to criticize but think before you speak

Think about the rights you have

What happens when the shuttle crashes?

Instant gratification

No more space exploration

We put a man on the moon 40 years ago

But now it’s too soon to send

A man into space?

A slap in the face

Of our imperialist plot to conquer a lot

Don’t rebuild the WTC higher

Simply build a tiny spire

It’s time to abandon all structural endeavors

Hide under our beds and cover our heads

Like the sissies you are

Don’t salute those stripes and stars

Fire Bill Maher

Because he told us we’re cowards

And we’re afraid that we are

We all care about our civil liberties being taken away

But only some parts of the constitution are ok

Not the electoral college part?

It works both ways doesn’t it?

The FBI, CIA should have done its job then

Its got all the evidence now

But you don’t care

You want infinite proof there

You wouldn’t sacrifice one fraction

To Save Millions of lives and when

Those lives are lost you blame those who didn’t take action!

The least I can do is ask you

TO not use sugar coated language and abuse our sensitivity

Our communication

Please do not call killing babies equipping young women with a choice

Don’t defy those who protect us

You’re making the enemy rejoice

It’s easy to hate

To accuse me that I discriminate

But to those who raise their fists

Answer me this

When the bomb is dropped by Iran (rhyme with bomb)

You look up and see the mushroom cloud

In the Sky

With forgotten rebelliousness and futile messages at your side

The day, when perfect hindsight is suddenly all around

And a billion tear drops fall to the ground

The day when you look into your child’s eyes and have to explain

More innocents have died

And your pedestal, your ability to be free is taken away

Then you’ll see something other than a President’s blue blood royalty

Tell me THEN your opposed to war

And the reasons for which we’re fighting for

Tell me THEN we’re imperialist clowns

Who operate on fallacious grounds

So if it’s true, your division’s still tall

Then perhaps the most powerful truth of all

Is you’d look the families in the face

Tell them one-by-shun

You helped cause another 9/11,

2001.

NJO: Originally posted on the blog Feathers of Steel at liberabit.blogspot.com.

Illiteracy Count: 9

1. Annie DiFranco
2. dieing hard
3. like its Some choice (apostrophe?)
4. gas prices to high for sale
5. Who's hypocritical now! (question mark?)
6. our honor cause division (comma?)
7. die for this country you're wrong (comma?)
8. wont’
9. Its got (apostrophe?)

For *Paul*

This story will make you believe in Karma

("My freshman year I was kicked off the Paul Robeson floor by Kelly Hennessey. "

http://www.rucenturion.com/gallery.php)

This week I graduated, and thus came to an end 4 productive years. Interestingly enough, most of my friends, activities, glee club, centurion, etc began in my junior year. Thus formulated my college experience. My freshman year and the beginning of my sophomore were the dark ages looking back, a time when I was very alone, lost without purpose, constantly on the phone with a high-school girlfriend, indeed, I spent most of my time alone in isolated sadness with no friends....

My freshman year of college I was placed in a triple room on the second floor of Campbell. One of my roomates was gay. The other was just bizarre. Two months in I volunteered to leave and was put on an all-black, floor, the Paul Robeson floor, on Mettler 3 in November. I was placed with, no joke, an Indian midget named "Hashish" who smelled like shit. Then he transfered. I had a single. For the month of January, I never left my room. Then on Valentines day, the one year anniversary of James/███████, in came a greek kid named Paul. Paul was an absolute nightmare. From the get-go, he told me he wanted a single. He told me he would do whatever it took to kick me out of th room. Paul lied, planted his girlfirends underpants in my bed, poured granuals in my keyboard destroying my computer, threw my internet box on the ground. In a climax of frustration, I put an article from The New York Times criticizing Greece on my door. (He had told me he plans to go back to Greece and soon as he's done "milking" America for our education system.) He made up some lie about me physically harming him, planted evidence and called the police, as well as his "lawyers." Paul was openly racist. He had referrred to everyone on the "Paul Robeson" floor as "monkeys." Then, to my horror, he actually said to the all-black RAs that I called everyone on the floor "niggers." - a complete lie. It was my word against his. I was lead out of the room crying and screaming at him and my situation, no friends, no one one to talk to., forced to go in front of a black man, Dean Tolbert, to defend myself and help explain that I did not call anyone any names. Paul then told Kelly Hennessy, the multicultural dorm director, that I "touched" him. (We shook hands the first week). in April Paul then did the unfathomable- he actually went ahead and logically took my confession of having shook his hand as a confession that I "Touched" him. Kelly Hennessy bought the bullshit. I was Out-witted by a manipulative fuck of a Greek. And all I wanted to do was Transfer from Rutgers- the god-awful place that did all of this to me.

In short, My freshman year Paul Torinidis had me kicked off the Paul Robeson floor by lying to Kelly Hennesey. Hennessy and Tolberd heard accusations of racial bias and didn't give me a chance to defend myself. After I was kicked out, Paul then flew a huge greek flag in the window where I lived.

Three weeks later, Paul failed out of Rutgers.

I wrote this in March, 2003 in a pool of my own tears. Because words could not express what Paul had done to me, I was just confused and cheated. What do I do, who do I talk to, where do I go from here? Is this what college is about?

The subsequent poem I wrote was a national finalist.

My roomate and I haven't spoken in two weeks and now this. Some people arepurely evil. Some people are so deceitful, manipulative, hurtful and cunning, thatit makes you feel that when yourwith that person the world isn't even worth fighting for. When you encounter a situation where your dignity is being held against your will, when someone threatens your emotional well-being for their own cheap advantage, when that same person uses you and violates your mind in ways you didn't know it could be violated, it forces you to reavaluate who you are as a person. This could be in the form of aninjustice, such as a wrongful conviction, it could come in the form of abetrayal from a friend or an ex-lover, whatever it is, it leaves you helpless bracing that reasurrance deep inside yourself that comforts you. I haven't really ever experienced these people in my life. for the most for the most part people are inherently good and there are some invisible laws and trusts and principals that are always upheld. People i've always been associated with have never crossed that line into the realm of irratioanlity, and if they have, It's easy to distance yourself from them ,it's easy to isolate them in your mind, your capable of realizing that they're wrong and your right. Right?

Not with PaulPaul has fucked with my mind, broken the rules of interaction that you deem unnescary to even lay out, gone beyond irrationality to the point he is evil in a rational way, destorting reality while maintaing the truth, threatening me and making me feel like the shit on his shoe, and then celebrating another victory. Why did it come to this? Why?


Because I fought back. Because when he called me an ass hole and said that i smell, i said i didn't like that language, and his girlfiend smells. When he retalitated by saying America sucks, i said Greece sucks. When he Told me not to plug MY COMPUTER into the interent socket (Becauseit happened to be on his side of the room and he's territorial) I did it anyways, when he throws my computer part on the ground in rage i told him he was going to have to pay for it, in defiance i stood up and screamed athim and told him I'm NOT swallowing my pride for you, I respect you even though you don\'t respect me, I speakto you kindly, i treat you decently, I've made compromises, taken your accusations, AND YOU ARE WRONG. Paul called the police, told me his daddy was going to arrest me, he had his lawyers ready to file charges of assuault, threats, SEXUAL ABUSE,RACISM, GREEK BIAS, and he even threatened to have me kicked out of the university in handcuffs. He told everyone he knew lies and manipulated everythign i have ever said, sometimes even jovially; into serious accusations , and worst of all, he made up shit about my pyscholgical history and started telling everyone he knew that his safety is in danger and James needs help.

From once making me a cd and offering me a slice ofpizza, he now holds that against me saying he treated me like a king. He now says i sniff his girfirend's underwear, and he told his girlfirend's parents who are out after me, he told me his lawyers would hang me, and he's got proof, evidence angainst me in "a court of law"he has taken statements i have made, purpously embellished them into theworng context and used them against me, trying to kick me oiut of myroom. this is the person who has treated me like shit from day one. WHOCWOURLDNT EVEN LET ME PLUG MY COMPUTER IN!!! but i have no evidence, i'm not a sneeky rat, and my quick wit doesn't come in false accustaions orsadistic threats, and i certainly do not document his actions, even though he spends everyday in my room with his girfriend all day for hours, I respect them and leave them alone always-- i ran out and he told me not tocome back. So instead of punching him in the face and having him win (i seriouslywould have done it) i ran outside, crying hysterically not knowing who to call or what to do, i simply have neverfelt so terrible before, at least in the last couple years, never felt so alone inside myself or so captured by another human being, all i wanted todo was have someone anyone know the TRUTH, i didn't even want a hug,becuase i was set up, and i still feel inside captured by his evil trap, and I've never encountered anyone so manipulative, so decieveing, so pernicious, in Paul. He's very sick. If you have encountered someone like this in your life, you can relate, you know how it feels, it feels like cancer, it drains you completely, t ohave someone attack you in such a awful way, and have people beleive him and hear him tell them whacked-out sick things about me,and i guess thats what scares me, i need to get very far very very veryfar away from people like that in my life. I need to be around peoplethat love me for me, and will not attack me in such a way. This is a warnign to you that people like this exist out there,sometimes in the beginning camouflaged in jovialness or laid back-ness butbe careful what you say, be careful what you reveal, and you don't have to sacrifice yourself for these people you don't have to become evil tocompete, you just have to stay far far far far far far away and know thatyou are loved

Thanks for listening.

For Paul

There's no way to Summarize People Like You
Putting me Down and Loving it too
I wasn't born knowing the Color of your skin
Your Deep-rooted hate
The way you manipulate
Your bitter angry conscience
Or your national origin
You can abuse my innocense
But be forwarned
I don't have your quick-wit
I got more
The Wind is my only friend
Through the Air I soar
I burn like a fire
And fight for my right to roar
You want to spit and lie?
Soak me with despair??
Slander my character find solace there...
Magnify my weaknesses and fuck with my mind?
Look for an evil in my you can't find?
Behind closed doors you run and you hide
And you scream so loud it hurts inside
Because beneath your pretending and all that you sell
The man that I am
Scares you like hell

NJO: Originally posted on the blog Feathers of Steel at liberabit.blogspot.com.

Print the Cartoons

An email sent to the staff of the Centurion:

The Rutgers Centurion is the paper that put a picture of a black Rutgers icon on its cover with a phrase "GLORY TO STALIN." at the university with the highest african american concentration and ratios in the country. Not only did all of you applaud this decision and others like it, many people outside Rutgers did - Fred Barnes of the Weekly Standard did, so did G. Gordon Liddy and Ronald Reagan's son when I personally handed him a copy at Radio America last summer. So did hundreds of marginalized conservatives at Rutgers. We did not only because nobody would or could do it. the weekly standard couldn't get away with it. The real reason we did or at least I did print that was because IT WAS TRUE.

BY doing so, (hopefully) we created debate, we intiated the gears of thought in rusty, indoctrinated minds, got them thinking a bit about the Soviet Union, about the cold war, about racial injustice; and no, we walk no fine line in danger of becoming the medium, our journalistic integrity is canyons away from that of the medium - They are a piece of shit; a rag and don't put yourselves down by making a comparison. But Kian and I did The Robeson spot spontaneously, I believe, because we knew that we were balancing, not dominating, in the same way a prosocuter would allow the defense team to pursue justice. Liberals professors and deans were furious by our progress. In the same way Islam has rules against drawing Mohammed, the pulpits in the Rutgers ivory tower prohibit speaking out against their beloved Robeson. This was far more polemic than any cartoons.

In that same issue, Kian authored an excellent article entitled "Condi Rice: the Black women liberals love to hate;" it was so good, it caught the eye of a young journalist Justine and I met in DC and he wrote about The Centurion at Salon.com. That Salon.com article brought us national publicity. At an ISI conference in Princeton last summer, whordes of brilliant intellectuals, including Princeton professors, were huddled together laughing at the stunts we pulled. Some had even heard of us, through the grapevine, some had even read that Salon.com article.
Again, stunts far more polemic than cartoons.

In another one of our proud, super-polemic moments, Jeff's awesome idea, we printed a picture of the towers under attack; a very taboo image. All of us supported that decsion, because deep down in parts of our conservative hearts we can't expain, we can't stand the thought of letting those people dictate our architecture, brand taboos on our buildings, our city, our culture, our media. Moreover, nothing discusts us more than cencoring their destruction, not rebuilding taller and higher, maybe even building the same. When the letter attacked us for sensationalism; we responded with a sarcastic "I'm sorry." This was great, but far more polemic than printing cartoons.

People don't seem to understand in europe right now it is war betweeen hemispheres. The populations of Italy, Spain, Britain, France, to a certain degree Switzerland, are all declining as a result of feminist single parenting, islamic immigrants are quickly taking their place. The peaceful Danish consolates and being burned down, their products boycotted. Liberals/Europeans are in a panty twist becaues in general, they hate organized relgion, but they're all worried about hurting minorities' feelings; and in Denmark although the prime minister hasn't apologized, Chiriac has apologized and criticized the danes, who were meanwhile holding candlelight vigils, a candlelight vigil, why their consulate was being burned to the ground... in Europe everyone's afraid of the reprisal.

If you lived in Europe, you should be afraid.

But we (you), don't live in Europe; we live in the United States of America. We are adults living in civilized societies; we do not murder and pillage whenever our sensibilities are offended. We don't negioate with terrorists, we don't tolerate violence and arson in response to speech. We're a funny people that way. Our founding, our consitution, our currency is based on christian principlies, not islamic principles. We have earned our right to go to colleges like Rutgers, and publish papers like The Centurion. In God we Trust. Hyperbole aside, If you don't like that get the fuck out of our free and historically prosperous land.

Go back to where you came from.

Where they burn and stone women alive, go to Europe where the economies are planned, go to European union where the beurocracy is so bad the permits are obtained with bribes; where citizens won't stand up for themselves or their rights to go as they please, purchase as they please, innovate as they please; stand up for their culture and peaceful way of life against an islamofascist bayonette; a pervasive fear that I can sense in the air even in Lugano. The same people that whine about our imperialism are now hiding under their beds afraid to build tall buildings, afraid to speak out against murder, afraid to defend their borders and way of life.

To those of you who are afraid of the New Jersey Solidarity Groups, you will be yielding to the authors of this post, WHO ARE ALL TALK.

http://santacruz.indymedia.org/newswire/display/17526/index.php

in the words of W. Bush, "Bring 'em on." Fuck 'em. Print the cartoons.

NJO: Originally posted on the blog Feathers of Steel at liberabit.blogspot.com.

I Have a Dream

Much has changed since the time of Edmund Burke. While prudence, honor, restraint, reverence, self-discipline, liberty and conviction will always be conservative, modern “conservative” declarations seem to directly contradict these classical virtues. There is no better time than now to explore how these themes have changed and how these virtues clash. This is a time when Peter Lawler believes the Republicans will become two parties split between anti-libertarians and libertarians. Former Soviet political prisoner Natan Sharansky’s The Case for Democracy is the neo-conservative version of the Declaration of Independence; calling for the promotion of democracy for oppressed people’s throughout the world. Fiscally, our Republican allies are anything but conservative. As the Wall Street tycoon once said, “our trade deficit and its fiscal deficit are at nightmare proportions.”

But our universities are also at a crossroads, becoming what David French calls "islands of repression in a sea of liberty." Professors have seemed to have figured out answers to all of life’s great questions. The Academy is, without a doubt, the left’s last vast impenetrable fortress. It is an ideological monopoly on truth, which, as Victor Davis Hansen has said, “has adopted a therapeutic curriculum in pursuit of political objectives.” The pseudo-religious rhetoric of “diversity” has replaced the great rhetorical social questions of Plato and Aristotle; the relationship between God and man, virtue and vice, heroism and cowardice, and beauty and wisdom. These questions have been replaced with an obsession, not of veritas, but with skin color.

Rutgers Professors and staff gave 104 times more money to John Kerry than George W. Bush in the 2004 election cycyle. One Hundred and Four to One. This ratio is comparable to the political diversity present under the rule of Genghis Khan.

In our beloved Academy; a supposed citadel of intellectual brilliance, its commanding officers have become intellectual sloths; unchallenged by any principled conservative opposition and unbridled to invite speakers to campus to compare Bush to the Ku Klux Klan, or rant about how the war to liberate the middle east is morally bad in a class completely unrelated to international relations or its relating philosophies.

From a journalistic standpoint, THE CENTURION is an avowedly conservative magazine. We implore our detractors who demand political balance to weigh us on the scale against other student publications including The Medium, the Green Print, The Review and The Caellian. Let’s not forget The Daily Targum, a newspaper from which I was once fired. Worry not my Leftists; the academic fulcrum still tips in favor of you; if not in print (we’ll take this potential newfound conservative leaning as a testament to our success), then decidedly so in the classroom. THE CENTURION arrived on the scene last November to a blazing fire, extinguishing it with guerilla tactics; awards on doors, sensitivity complaints, racist cereals and needed muckraking against local political cronyism. This sardonic approach seems to have had more efficacy and influence on our student body which cares as much about truth as Muslims care about Jesus.

On our campus common sense is blurred by obfuscation; the p.c. patrol, the diversity police, the self-esteem deans, the speech codes, and the professors violating core tenets of academic freedom, etc.

I founded THE CENTURION because I have a dream...

I have a dream where diversity refers to more than just the melanin in one’s skin; where conservatives are not to be called “fascists” for advocating pluralities of methodologies, perspectives and common sense views.

I have a dream that Lucky Charms is thought of as a breakfast cereal rather than a symbol of Leprechaun oppression.

I have a dream where the banning of “offensive” Grease Trucks sandwich names is of little consequence compared to the rapes of women off campus.

I have a dream someone realizes Rutgers’ financial woes just might be due to dozens of committees and caucuses “devoted to advancing our common purposes” as well as pork programs and counselors and their Deans that believe self-esteem is more important than the process by which you earn it.

I have a dream where we realize guns are no more responsible for Columbine than spoons are responsible for Michael Moore’s obesity.

I have a dream where we lay our presents under Christmas Trees, not holiday shrubs.

I have a dream at least one building or program or committee or scholarship will be named after our Rutgers’ Nobel peace prize winning graduate Milton Friedman, RC ’32. His axiom that political freedom requires economic freedom is a lesson learned only by visiting the graves of the innocent women and children butchered to death by bloodthirsty tyrants; economic atrocities condoned by the applause of Paul Robeson's supporters.

I have a dream where bureaucrats, uneducated in matters relating to life’s great questions, stop putting restrictions on what I can or can’t say, stop enacting policies that arbitrarily prohibit behavior, and stop making value judgments on what I believe.

I have a dream where conservative faculty are free from ideological witch hunts; where political opinions and/or skin color is prohibited from being considered in the hiring of university professors.

I have a dream where the unfair employment practices and accusations against one of our nations most gifted sociobiologists because of his conservative leaning, is prosecuted by the fullest extent of the law.

I have a dream where they will introduce a biology prerequisite for women’s studies classes.

For we the conservatives, ironically, have become the modern day Henry David Thoreaus, albeit in a less revolutionary way. For we, the silent majority, “stand athwart history yelling stop” in a place and at a time when our professors and peers call for radical change.

None of us knew each other a year ago. A man I considered my best friend last year betrayed me over chalk yielding, gown wearing overly ambitious students buying into their own hype. I have met others since then. The unappreciated wisdom of the encyclopedic Wesley James Young; whose civility is only matched by his compassion. The southern legal language of Jeff Erickson. The untapped artistic genius and patience of Justine Mertz. The editorial prowess of my successor, Dan Whitney, who spent late nights (and their accompanying early mornings) at production meetings curbing his enthusiasm, as well as the timely alarm on his wristwatch. The honor in Alan Marrero’s eyes. The steadfast morale of Greg Walker. The Enigmatic Matt Klimek, consummate but withdrawn...

We publish onward, not in the name of our friendship, but for the love of our cause. We have nothing to offer but a slightly naïve, scant knowledge of modern conservatism from our readings in outside publications, books and recently, online journals. The intellectual sloths and anonymous cowards at the pulpit in the ivory tower at Rutgers who read this sentiment will post on their blogs, with relief, our efforts are not nearly enough to dethrone them! For we do not have the required experience, cannot battle student apathy and have not read as much third-rate Marxist hogwash.

But our superior ideas have been time tested, consecrated by the blood of martyrs, victorious in the world of reality strife-torn by a century plagued by revolution. Our naiveté is offset by our courage, bound not for each other but for our cause on a campus that unites in condemning us. I have been hated more in the last year of my life than in the past 20 years of my existence combined, and most likely more hated than you readers. And if that seems somewhat dramatic, you’re damn right it is. So entrenched are we in our cause, Matt, Justine and I forfeited characteristics of coyness and prudence long after we received the anonymous death threats, to prove a point that we weren’t even certain would turn out to be effective.

Transcending all of this; we decided to do something about which we cared. We challenged people to see our version of the truth. It is my contention we have succeeded.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, leaves us about the hottest thing in town.

James O'Keefe

Originally printed in the December 2005 issue of the Centurion.

The Centurion Goes Caroling at Rutgers

NJO: Video and blurb from the Rutgers Centurion's YouTube account.

Uploaded on May 3, 2009

It was December and pretty gloomy around campus, so we decided to go out and spread some Christmas cheer to everybody at the University.

November Issue

The November issue of The Centurion is out now! Look for it at the usual distribution sites around campus, or you can read the pdf version online at www.rucenturion.com once it’s been posted.

In our Feature section this issue we discussed corruption at Rutgers, ranging from Jon Corzine not being fined for violating sign ordinances to the apparent campaign to kick the Greek organizations off campus.

We also have a run down of what went on at Rutgers over the past month, as well as the usual coverage of important national topics.

We want to hear YOUR opinion on the issue. Leave your comments here!

Originally posted at The Centurion at Rutgers at centurionjournal.blogspot.com.

We know Intellectuals Hate Capitalism. But Why?

JAMES O'KEEFE

How ironic is it that the hatred of capitalism is disproportionately composed of proletariat theorist professors who make over 100,000 dollars a year. Ironic also is the doctrince of socialism is an intellectual phenomenon, not a working class one, derived from these professor who reside in the top income bracket.

When the Federalist Papers were written, the property owners were the most educated. This is no longer the case. An entrepreneur has a practical intelligence, whereas the professor has a theoretical one and often distances himself away from the free market.

But why such capitalist loathing? Ludwig von Mises proposed the intellectuals are resentful of the few who make more money than they do; namely investment bankers, corporate lawyers, etc. Others say they intellectuals feel undervalued in a system which rewards for talent, individual initiative and personal merit, not intelligence.

Robert Nozick proposed the intellectuals derive their hate from their tensions in elementary school with other children. This is a theory we'll explore at another time. As Nozick says, intellectuals will likely have the last word, a form poetic justice that is anything but ironic.

NJO: Originally printed in the November 2005 issue of The Centurion.

Illiteracy Count: 8

1. How ironic is it...    (If the sentence is a statement, it should be "it is". If it's a question, it should have a question mark.)
2. doctrince
3. Ironic also is...    (The whole sentence is quite the fucking omnishambles, but perhaps some small vestige of life could have been restored to its abortion-like form by injecting "the fact that" after the first three words.)
4. these professor who
5. von Mises proposed the intellectuals    (Replace "the" with "that")
6. Others say they intellectuals    ("They intellectuals"? Is he from fucking Fife all of a sudden?)
7. Nozick proposed the intellectuals    (Replace "the" with "that")
8. a form poetic justice

The New Core Curriculum

JAMES O'KEEFE

ISI books, a division of the Intercollegiate Studies Institute, recently sent us a copy of their 2006 masterpiece “Choosing the Right College,” which rates the best 134 colleges from a classically conservative perspective, emphasizing the core curriculum and the college experience.

Wouldn’t you know it, Rutgers University made the list (after all, our philosophy department alone was ranked number one by the Philosophical Gourmet Report). Despite a less-than stellar review of residence life, (frankly, we deserve it), our academics received great praise. ISI also published a list of classics that could compose a core curriculum (which the administrators have been removing from the list of requirements since the 1960s).

Contemporary “postmodern” (and often Marxist) dogma attacks the achievements of those who authored the classics because they were privileged and powerful white males. However, such ad hominem attacks against the character and socialization of such individuals ignores the superiority of their objective insights and their achievements.

Another of the points contributing author Mark Henrie emphasizes in his introduction is that students are losing the opportunity to gain a broad understanding of the laws that govern human nature and human understanding. The decline of classical education is a modern tragedy.

Bill J. Bennett of the Heritage Foundation pointed out that, upon graduating, only 14 percent of students know that James Madison wrote the United States Constitution, one of many statistics indicating a pathetic lack of civic knowledge and responsibility perpetuated by strange agendas of “multiculturalism” and “diversity.” Most electives do not focus on anything of substantive historical value,

Timely axioms like “god and man,” “virtue and vice,” “heroism and cowardice,” “tyranny and freedom,” and “truth and untruth” are replaced with electives concerning racial, ethnic, sexual and non-literary themes. The focus of the humanities is now underdog appeasement, e.g. encouraging the use of Ebonics.

Though the classics are no longer required of students, we encourages students to register for classes in western civilization and philosophy - you may just learn something.

NJO: Originally printed in the November 2005 issue of The Centurion at Rutgers.

Premiere of Our Blog

We at The Centurion are pleased to announce the premiere of the Centurion Blog. This blog is intended to serve as a way for our readers at Rutgers and elsewhere to comment on the content of our issues. Once our new issue comes out we will be creating posts for comments to be left, so check back here once you the November issue has been released.

Originally posted at The Centurion at Rutgers at centurionjournal.blogspot.com.

Screw This


The Daily Targum
By James O’Keefe
Published: 12/8/2003

This goes out to all the Rutgers students who have been screwed like a 60-watt light bulb, like a demented organ grinder, like a lug nut off a flat tire. This goes out to the innocent first-year scholars who experience more bureaucracy here than the DMV on Monday morning, more red tape than a Kmart on Christmas. This goes out to all those who finally have adapted to things such as bus and registration paradigms that are as inefficient and cumbersome as square snails.But as you might know, it's not just the clichéd RU Screw that can fill you with more rage than a lion in heat. It's the small things - the silly things - the little moments comprising your everyday routine that torment you. Things that administrators and the public could never understand. I've held my pride in for too long. Rutgers, The State University of New Jersey, which gets its satisfaction from surprising me with an array of vexations from its bureaucratic bag of antics, will now feel my wrath.This goes out to all those people who despite their last-minute sprinting, will always miss that A, EE or LX, by 15 seconds, no matter what the time, place or situation. They will watch that bus, operating on arbitrary time intervals, merrily accelerate onward just past their reach. Those faint green letters on the rear will mock their disappointment, and they will think what could have been if only they had taken the stairs instead of waiting those precious seconds for that malfunctioning elevator.This goes out to all those people who think those "handicapped" doors in front of the computer lab on College Ave. just don't make any sense. Like others around campus, I have never seen them work properly, and once I saw them close on a helpless man who was actually in his wheelchair pushing that ridiculous blue switch. You are obliged to open them manually, requiring more strength than if they were just regular doors. Uncanny.Maybe laxatives aren't in the food at Brower. Perhaps, like the "Captain Commons" faculty person exclaims on posted napkins, (notice the goofy, super-hero-like terminology), it is the juice we drink, not the glop we consume, that makes us jet for the lavatories. But how are we supposed to drink all this juice when those funky, slow machines are always spitting out diluted water? Regardless of the mysterious source of one's digestive stimulation, how are we supposed to relieve ourselves when the dorm bathrooms are being cleaned at the most inopportune times, leaving us desperately darting around the dorm floors frantically searching for toilets like squirrels.Then there are those brown paper towel dispensing devices in the bathrooms that also makes less sense than the story line of "Dude, Where's My Car?" They are always empty, and if they aren't empty, the towels get stuck coming out. The completely modernized bathrooms are void of the more clean, reliable, and environmentally friendly hand dryers. The dirty, old bathrooms are filled with them. If there are infrared heat-sensing laser beams on toilet stalls that automatically flush for you, why can't they have hand dryers that just blow warm air?This goes out to all those students who lined up and waited patiently his or her turn to sell all those expensive, seldom-used books you bought with irrelevant material not on your exams. It's your turn, the moment of truth. You encounter the book nazi who screams, "These books are no good! No buyback for you!" You tilt your head in shame, stuck with those worthless hundred-dollar investments. You reflect on the candor, the brutal mercilessness of the book nazi who shot your high economic spirits down like a clay pigeon in the sky; whipped you like the four-eyed kid in the schoolyard!And what is with all the pornography? From chairs in the lecture halls to the desks in Alexander library. Kudos to anyone who can concentrate on studying with penises and vaginas sprawling every inch of your workspace.What is with those dreary looking students checking your backpack when you leave the library? What purpose does this serve? Do they even care what's inside? All that is required of me is that I wave my backpack around giving the illusion that they are checking it! Same thing with the buffoonery of writing down guest's names when they enter dorms ... for only five hours out of the day! The only time they've checked my key is when I've offered to show it to them! Will someone please show me the administrative geniuses who come up with these foolproof ideas for my safety?The Hurtado Health Center seems to be more of an assembly line, an illusion of caring, another bureaucratic requisite than anything actually useful for the protection of my health. It took them a year to remove that "Immunization Hold" from my transcript, even after I sent them letter upon letter verifying what they wanted. Those exclamation points online made me feel more like a rabid tiger at a circus than a student at a university.And those lottery numbers. They claim they're random, but I tell you they are cursed, perhaps staged. It seems only the previously fortunate go to the exact room with the exact person they want, while those who were in tripled dorm rooms, or moved around campus like pawns on a chess board, get screwed. How equitable.This goes out to all the victims who've had mailbox partners who haven't checked their mail in six months, giving you a tiny stuffed box filled with his outdated newsletters that you must constantly sort through every week. Yet this itself is a daunting task, considering you must carefully remove letters without them falling into the abyss on the opposite side. That is - if you can actually open those puny doors with the outdated combination mechanisms.This goes out to the Rutgers students who are changing their minor simply because it is so challenging to get in the appropriate classes, dealing with departments that can't figure out what requirements they want for the major, programs with ambiguous rules for admission, smelly old men hogging televisions in the Red Lion Café and cars that are magnets for parking tickets.But we must understand Rutgers is a state of mind, our distinguishing collegiate privilege, and a piece of cake for what's to come in our lives. However frustrating all of this nonsense seems, however loud the laughs coming from gravesite of bureaucratic theorist Max Weber are, we must remind ourselves not to retreat, not to go quietly into the night. We must use bigger scissors when encountering red tape, perhaps listen to the inspirational "Chariots of Fire" as we run faster to those buses, and write columns in The Daily Targum commenting on all that insanity abundant with odd similes stranger than a gang of drunken mimes.

NJO: Originally appeared in Rutgers University's newspaper The Daily Targum, later posted on the blog Feathers of Steel at liberabit.blogspot.com.