Monday, July 31, 2006

Selfish Blogger in "I Have a Life" Bullshit Plea

Posting's been light, not to mention tedious in the extreme, due to family commitments, so here are some of teh internet's greatest hits to tide you over in the meantime... Apologies to those who have seen everything below.

Cute animal knackers itself in comical fashion.

What Scotsmen do for entertainment at football matches.

Scarface, the fucking two-minute version. Not safe for work, unless you have headphones.

Scarface, the Dick Cheney version. Funny for about fifteen seconds. Not safe for work either. Headphones required.

The highest grossing movie in Turkish history - apologies to Americans, I guess you're even less popular in Turkey than we are. No mean feat, since we send thousands of tourists and football hooligans there every year.

Black people love us.

Sadly, it transpired that this kayak disaster was a hoax. But I laughed even when I thought it was true, scumbag that I am.

That'll have to do for tonight - I'll gratefully accept advice on how to post Youtube videos directly to my blog. Can't be bothered working it out at this time.


All Hail the Perry Bible Fellowship, without which I would have to post something worth reading.

Saturday, July 29, 2006

The New Lunatics...

... Really aren't too different from the old lunatics.

Legend has it that Ronald Reagan once remarked to Gorbachev that, although the US and the USSR were mortal enemies, they should unite in the event of alien invasion.

I say legend, because I haven't been able to track down an authoritative source. But it wouldn't be out of character, since Reagan's cognitive difficulties are well documented.

Nonetheless, like all the best citizen journalists, I'm prepared to accept idle speculation as proven fact and build my entire worldview upon it.

Reagan may have been criticised for being the sock puppet distracting the American people while his cronies looted the treasury (and that's before we get round to discussing the death squads) but it's comforting to note that he was ultimately a believer in the commonality of all mankind, Commie and Crusader alike.

The alien story shows one basic fact - he believed that, in the spirit of our shared humanity, black and white could come together and gang up on green.

I suppose the more time he devoted to worrying about ET, the less he could spend crushing trade unions.

P.S. I was in America during Reagan's funeral, and what I saw there would be worth a lengthy post full of question and exclamation marks by itself. The next time a major politico drops dead, it may be worth revisiting.

It was an instructive lesson in how future revisionist historians will portray the jokers who brought us the current debacle - as saintly agents of peace, pushed into difficult situations by their bottomless faith in the Lord.

Update: The Gipper may be gone, but his spirit endures in Nevada, where you can now be fined up to $1000 for giving food to the homeless.

Vegas is near the bottom of the places on Earth I'd like to visit, just above Grozny, Mogadishu and Beirut. On this evidence however, I'm tempted to re-order the list and throw myself upon the tender mercies of the Israeli Defence Force.

Update II: I'm assuming that when the Israelis use the word "defence" they apply the same meaning that the US "Department of Defense" does. Both spelling and definition differ on either side of the Atlantic.

Friday, July 28, 2006

The Time of the Dork Has Come

In my last post, I mused upon the strange reluctance of today's youth to mount a violent insurrection against the Queen's ministers and overthrow the government.

On reflection, I've come to realise that, since 1979, we've seen a resurgence of oligarchies, from Iran to Russia, London to Washington. The centralisation of wealth and power, with the attendant crumbs thrown to those outside the rampant orgy of greed that occurred in the 1980's and continues unabated today, have made us a meek and beaten people. Trickle-down, my eye!

I now understand that there is only one way to effect revolution - I must murder my way to the throne of Great Britain.

Now, it sounds a bit far-fetched, but hear me out. After all, what worked for MacBeth can surely work for me - and my real name is MacRodent.

Sadly, I'm of mongrel stock, part Scots, English and Irish, so I reckon I'd probably have to slaughter my way through around 25-30 million of my compatriots before I would be able to stake a credible claim. That's not counting the Anglo-Saxon/Celtic diaspora in the New World, of course.

This may seem like a large figure, but Britain in MacBeth's day only had a tenth of our current population so it's only a little bit more extreme, statistically speaking.

Mind you, that's going to be a lot of damn spots to cry "Out!" at.

I'd usher in a Utopia of plentiful food, clothing, luxuries and entertainments for the people who survive my killing spree. Every man would live like a king, although of course not exactly like a king. More like a vassal with a snazzy cloak.

I understand you might not wish to live under my wise and benevolent rule, but that is no reason why you can't be included in my great scheme for the nation - when I am king, you will be first against the wall.

From revolutionary to monarchist in just two posts - the blogosphere is truly a wonder!

Kids These Days Have Too Much Respect

So, there I was visiting a friend in London. We were in one of the trendy boozers they have down there, as opposed to the fetid caves and barns that Edinburgh calls bars, and I was smoking two cigarettes at once. You can still do that in London - in Scotland, the tyrant McConnell has forced us all to quit our unhealthy habits and take up skipping and Tai Chi.

My friend was suggesting things I could do while visiting. "Why don't we go to Buckingham Palace?" she asked.

I'd already strolled past the ludicrous monstrosity that day, so I cracked wise, "Sure, you bring the pitchforks, I'll bring the beer and the torches!"

My friend looked non-plussed, so I tried to inspire her.

"Come on, it'll be great! We'll slash the paintings, loot the jewellery and carry off the Royal Family to the Tower of London! It'll be like the storming of the Winter Palace, the fall of the Reichstag and Bastille Day all at once!".

She still didn't see what I was getting at, shaking her head and making strangled "Does not compute" noises.

Which brings me to my point - kids these days have too much respect for their elders.

Am I the only one who visits stately homes just to fantasise about burning them to the ground? Given the history of our nation, I can't think of any greater expression of patriotism than storming the homes of the ruling classes and looting their posessions. Burglary is the sincerest form of flattery, after all.

I attended an exhibition on the Romanovs at the National Museum of Scotland last year and it was filled with misty-eyed pensioners pining for the heyday of a world long since consigned to the dustbin of history. They were depicting the rabid mob overthrowing the ancien regime as a bad thing! Has no-one any get-up-and-go-to-the-palace-with-muskets-and-artillery any more?

But say "Let's behead the monarchy and establish a tyrannical People's Republic" to today's generation and they'll look at you like you're mad. Even the Americans - the Americans, the nation that wrote the textbook on bloody revolution, would call you a lunatic for suggesting an insurrection in Washington.

Another example - I was on the anti-war march in Glasgow in 2003, which finished outside the Armadillo, a rather silly conference hall which happened to be housing the Labour Party conference that day. The fiend Blair was supposed to be speaking at two o'clock, when the rally was in full flow, but had snuck in and out earlier that morning like a pervert thieving from a lady's washing line.

We'd been standing about aimlessly listening to the furious commies for an hour or so when I noticed something odd. The Armadillo is right next to the river Clyde and an enormous crane towered over the site.

"Isn't that... a pair of policemen with massive sniper rifles?" I asked my friend. Since we'd been passed by four cops with machine guns on our way there, it seemed a bit of an overreaction.

"Oh, them?" my friend said dismissively, "They're just here in case any terrorists try to blow up the crowd."

To put this in perspective - 80,000 pissed off protesters, including communists, anarchists and Muslim fundamentalists are standing within 300 yards of the grandees of the ruling class of the country, and the snipers are there for our protection? It just doesn't seem logical. I mean, I've been to football matches, and I know how quickly a placid crowd can turn ugly.

In olden times, it'd have taken more than a few plods with snazzy pop-guns to hold back an angry mob. We'd have battered down the doors and been dining on the brains of the aristocracy in seconds.

Of course, if the cops were there to take out the old farts starting into their 799th chorus of Give Peace a Chance I would've actively cleared their line of fire for them. But this is a logical leap of faith I just can't bring myself to make.

This lack of revolutionary zeal is disappointing. Has the flame of western democracy truly been so sapped by MTV and consumer goods that we can't even get together for a good, old-fashioned riot any more?

Truly, by the time a nation is old enough to have palaces to burn, the fire has gone out.

Like a Cool Hand Upon Your Fevered Brow

I wouldn't usually bore you with the banalities I consume to entertain myself, but I'll make exception for this year's Mercury Music Prize. (Warning - the site was designed by IT developers working in the seventh ring of Hell for Satan himself).

I hate all new music as a rule, since it fills me with confusion and fear of the unfamiliar, but I have to recommend Isobel Campbell's Ballad of the Broken Seas.


It's a collaboration with bad boy Mark Lanegan, the grunge-monster and occasional Stone Ager. It shouldn't work, and I mean it just shouldn't, but it does.

An album of sweet, mesmeric country, it should ideally be enjoyed while gently swayin' on the ol' wagon train out west. Anyone prone to stealing music via the internet (you bad, bad kids that you are) should check out Rambling Man or Saturday's Gone to get the idea.

My future wife, with some hairy-arsed rocker.

I'm aware that the Arctic Monkeys are also nominated and that it would make their mums really proud if they won, but we live in a world where the hopes of wide-eyed children are often cruelly dashed.

As for the other nominees, I haven't listened to their works, but they look like a right bunch of twats which means their music must be rubbish. It saves a lot of time if you judge a book by its cover.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Blogger is Bloggered...

...So I'll have to post these here. Originally intended as part of the post Beating Your Children... Fun For All the Family!

I'll be starting drinking again after work tomorrow, so the likelihood is no posts until Saturday.

Best not to post drunk, I think. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.




If you liked those, the rest are here. I've never been to this gallery, but their archive is here and includes some great stuff.

Beating Your Children - Fun For All The Family!

There's been no little upset around the blogs over the latest exhibition by the photographer Jill Greenberg. Ms. Greenberg has ingeniously photographed the reactions of toddlers to stress situations, earning her the title of "Asshole of the Month" and "Sociopathic Publicity Whore" from this overwrought individual.

The blogosphere, being such a placid oasis of reason and gentility, have described her as "a sick woman who should be charged with child abuse." and a "cunt".

This seems a bit harsh to me. Let's take a look...


And what dread form of torture could induce such pain in these kids?


No, not that. She gave them a lollipop, then took it away.

This is a stroke of sheer genius - the taunting of children as an artform! I have to confess, Damien Hirst and Tracey Emin have always left me cold. Emin in particular has always reminded me of the weird girl in the class at nursery school who wouldn't stop running about with her skirt over her head.

But this is art I can get behind - it enrages everyone, and gives me a chuckle!

P.S. Of course, all of this has just been a feeble excuse to show you some of Jill Greenberg's earlier work, which is truly fantastic. I don't know if it's art - I'll leave that decision to the aesthetes among you - but there's some base part of the human brain that loves a monkey.


Update!: I should've guessed it wouldn't take long for the psychotic squeak-demon Malkin to toss her two cents into the ring. I've just realised that she's La Passionara novo of the right, whose cries of No Pasaran! are directed at Mexicans, rather than fascists. One imagines that General Franco would probably receive a warmer reception in the Malkin house than, say, Frida Kahlo.

I notice she's also pimping the ludicrous Jeff Goldstein's appeal for cash - presumably there are many expenses incurred in hosting a site so your buddies can keep your hard-on for hatred well-fluffed. More power to your arm, Jeff! I personally could do with some cash to finance my stupendous cocaine addiction - Visa, Mastercard and Amex gratefully accepted.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Obedience Class

If I've seemed a tad tetchy lately, it's because recent world events have rather caused me to lose touch with my true passion, which is inanity.

In this spirit, I notice that Zinedine Zidane's misbehaviour during the World Cup final has inspired imitators - this is jockey Paul O'Neill adjusting the attitude of his horse, City Affair.

The troublesome nag had apparently been "very unruly" leaving the parade ring, and Mr. O'Neill, losing his cool, headbutted it. City Affair's owner has described the beast as "a very unruly character".

I can only sympathise - it seems rather cruel and unnecessary to city folks, but I was born and bred in the country and fully appreciate the need to take a firm hand with such wilful beasts. When your steed won't heed your needs, you need to put the heid on your steed.

In rural parts, he is not a man who would shrink from karate-chopping a weasel, throttling a goat or poking a parrot in the eye, should the situation require it.

I remember once chokeslamming a recalcitrant badger through a fold-out table. It wouldn't have been necessary if it had taken the hint and stopped burrowing about my 9-hole golf course, but I have no regrets.

I would, however, refrain from punching a donkey in the testicles. It is a fine line between disciplining an animal and bestiality, and it is a line I refuse to cross.

Anyone who doubts the veracity of the horse headbutt can see the whole unsavoury incident here.

Monday, July 24, 2006

That Conservative Top 40 - We Have a Winner!

"If music be the food of war, play on;/Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,/The appetite may sicken, and so die."

Of course, recent years have made it clear that some people's appetites are more voracious than others.

Seasoned veterans will recall the furious circle-jerk that ensued when some guy or other posted his Top 40 conservative songs. My friends, having interesting sex lives and jobs to go to, will have missed this, but it really was comedy gold - like watching a room full of persistent toddlers trying to force the square shape through the circular hole. I can't be arsed to track down the original, which seems to have been disappeared (probably due to embarrassment) but here's John J. Miller's attempt, which was one of the funnier ones.

There's no need to go into detail, since the reasoning involved is almost painful to watch. Ample to say that attempts were made to claim for conservatism "Revolution", "Rock the Casbah", "Sympathy For The Devil", "Bodies" and, most ironically, "Won't Get Fooled Again".

Curiously, nobody plumped for "Blood On Our Hands", "Kill The Poor", "Asshole From El Paso" or even Paul McCartney's 2001 folly "Give War a Chance".

But the one song that would surely have been top of the list had the wingers been paying attention would have to be "One in a Million". Choice exerpt...

"Immigrants and faggots they make no sense to me/
They come to our country and think they'll do as they please/
Like start some mini Iran or spread some fuckin' disease/
They talk so many goddamn ways, it's all Greek to me."

Sweet poetry to the lovers of freedom, one would imagine. Didn't make the list, of course, but not because it was authored by some neo-nazi punk band - it's from Guns 'n' Roses 1988 album "Lies".

Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a winner!

P.S. No, I don't own any Guns 'n' Roses albums. Anyone suggesting I do will be summarily barred.

P.P.S. Since I just linked to the lunatic Malkin yet again, I thought you might appreciate this piece of trivia. As the only literary gifts bestowed upon me are a ludicrously purple prose style and a massive dictionary, I thought I might share the knowledge that a "Grimalkin" is 1. a cat and 2. a spiteful old woman.

P.P.P.S. You may also like to note that a "Coulter" is "a vertical cutting blade fixed in front of a ploughshare".

That's not a hoax - you may now say, without fear of litigation, "A. Coulter is a common tool".

Saturday, July 22, 2006

The Nail in the Coffin of Empire

As the Grauniad notes this week, the best selling book in Poland this year was "The World According to Clarkson". The author, the "politically incorrect" and "outspoken" Jeremy Clarkson, is the beloved of Britain's whining, frightened suburbanites. Retired army majors and middle-class cul-de-sac dwellers cheer him on as one who confirms their own indignant, quivering rejection of modernity with his fatuous asshole pronouncements.




This is indicative of two things - firstly, that Britain has become a country so scared of it's own shadow that a large number of people live their lives in a state of perpetual apoplexy over minor irritations that previous generations would have accepted as the price of living amongst their fellow men. There is no subject that can't be twisted into a bitter diatribe against the "politically correct" police, whose evil tyranny sends agents of the state to suppress their right to wax wroth on darkies and poofters.

Secondly, it's a sure sign that the British Empire is as dead as last night's dinner. Whatever your opinion of the British quest to bring "civilisation" to the brown peoples of the world, no-one could deny it was forged by grim faced men of action, rather than the current crop of churlish, impotent twerps.


It means, essentially, that the chief export of the United Kingdom is now bitter little twats. How low the mighty have fallen!

See also: Andrew Sullivan, Christopher Hitchens, Simon Cowell, the Left That Dare Not Speak It's Name.

The Anti-Semitism of the Planet, Laid Bare For All to See

While Mrs. Rodent is up at the bar getting the drinks in, I thought I'd show you the cover of The Independent from earlier this week. (Thanks to Dermot for pointing it out, inbetween bouts of Armageddon paranoia).



I'm reminded of the commenter Carlos at Tim Blair's place, who noted:

I can imagine Afghanistan, Albania, Algeria, Andorra, Antigua and Barbuda, Argentina, Armenia, Austria, Azerbaijan, Bahamas, Bahrain, Bangladesh, Barbados, Belarus, Belgium, Belize, Bhutan, Bolivia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Botswana, Brazil, Brunei Darussalam, Bulgaria, Burkina Faso, Burundi, Cambodia, Cape Verde, Chile, China, Colombia, Congo, Costa Rica, Croatia, Cuba, Cyprus, Czech Republic, Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, Denmark, Djibouti, Dominica, Dominican Republic, Ecuador, Egypt, Eritrea, Estonia, Fiji, Finland, France, Gabon, Gambia, Germany, Ghana, Greece, Grenada, Guatemala, Guinea, Guyana, Haiti, Honduras, Hungary, India, Indonesia, Iran, Ireland, Italy, Jamaica, Japan, Jordan, Kazakhstan, Kenya, Kuwait, Kyrgyzstan, Lao People’s Democratic Republic, Latvia, Lebanon, Lesotho, Libya, Liechtenstein, Lithuania, Luxembourg, Malaysia, Maldives, Mali, Malta, Mauritania, Mauritius, Mexico, Monaco, Mongolia, Morocco, Mozambique, Myanmar, Namibia, Nepal, Netherlands, New Zealand, Nicaragua, Nigeria, Norway, Oman, Pakistan, Panama, Paraguay, Peru, Philippines, Poland, Portugal, Qatar, Republic of Korea, Romania, Russian Federation, Saint Lucia, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, San Marino, Saudi Arabia, Senegal, Serbia and Montenegro, Sierra Leone, Singapore, Slovakia, Slovenia, South Africa, Spain, Sri Lanka, Sudan, Suriname, Swaziland, Sweden, Switzerland, Syria, Thailand, The former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia, Timor-Leste, Togo, Trinidad and Tobago, Tunisia, Turkey, Turkmenistan, Tuvalu, Ukraine, United Arab Emirates, United Republic of Tanzania, Uzbekistan, Venezuela, Viet Nam, Yemen, Zambia, and Zimbabwe being anti-semitic...

But Iceland??? What’s with that?

Allow me to note that a very large number of people of the UK do not support the lunacy of our dear leader, who's obsequiousness to the Christian hypocrites in the White House borders on fellatio. If not for the freak Blair, that list would also include us.

Rampant haters that we all are.

Chewing Gum For The Mind


As always, the weekend is time to worship at the PBF altar. There's no need, however, to pretend that there's any deeper motive than just treading water - I might as well be honest and say "Can't talk, drinking".

Thursday, July 20, 2006

The March of Unreason Continues Apace

Fascinating what one can find on a trawl through the internet. This, for instance, is fascinating.

Children with a unique story filled the halls of Congress on Wednesday to tout their adoptions. However, their parents didn't pick them up from a hospital or group home.

These children were adopted as human embryos and implanted into their mother's wombs. As a result, they were spared dissection in fatal science experiments to be adopted into loving homes.

Known as "snowflake children" -- each child is unique, like a snowflake -- these babies adopted as human embryos are now healthy children no different from their peers.

For the groups and lawmakers sponsoring Wednesday's press conference, the kids are living proof of the lives taken during embryonic stem cell research...

...(Kate) Johnson and her husband Steve are the parents of Zara, a little girl whom they adopted as a human embryo.

"Look at Zara: Would we trade our daughter for chance to have Steve able-bodied again," Johnson asked. "Yet, some members of Congress advocate destroying vulnerable embryos no different from what Zara was at this early stage of human development."

Seems like odd logic to me, but I don't intend to curse the people who participate in this program, since it's likely that many of them are acting from higher principles which I could never even speculate upon, being a heathen and a degenerate.

It just seems a little dishonest to describe testing on embryos as the dissection of children in fatal science experiments. An egg is not a chicken, if you see where I'm going, no more than a boner is a baby.

I mean, if we're getting all weepy over embryos, then you'd better get round my house with a teeny tiny little coffin, because there are some crinkly hankies in my waste paper bin that need a proper Christian burial.

Now that I think of it, it might be worth splashing some holy water on the screen of my laptop, too.

And I apologise to any Americans reading, but I had to do it: this is the leader of the free world throwing his enthusiastic backing behind this manipulative, crybaby bullshit.

Seriously, some days it feels like mocking Bush is like kicking an enthusiastic puppy, if it wasn't for all that "We-bomb-you-long-time" crap he keeps parroting to the camera.

P.S. I'll post something nasty about the lunatic with his finger on our nuclear button next week.

Update: Actually, you'd be best to just read the last rites to my entire bedroom. I am ashamed.

How The Professionals Do It

Rumbled!

Anyone who's visited this page before (and you're part of a very select group, let me tell you) may have read my post The Book of Ehud. This was an updated rip-off of a Private Eye skit, The Book of Sharon, that ran during the dog days of the most recent intifada*, in around 2002 or so, explaining the conflict in biblical terms.

So, what better time for the fuckers to resurrect the gag than three days after I published my post? Naturally, it had to have exactly the same title, although being a professional, the author hasn't strayed into the same territory as I, nor does he ramble on in the same scattergun vein.

The Book of Ehud, Private Eye version

Chapter 94

1. And it came to pass in the days when Ehud ruled the Land of Israel as Sharon lay sleeping in an coma that the Hamas-ites came privily by night and stole from the Israelites a soldier whose name was Shalit and led him away into captivity.

2. And Ehud counselled himself thus, saying.

3. "What shall I do? Shall I smite the Hamas-ites like unto Sharon? Or smite them an hundredfold also like unto Sharon?".

4. And he decided to go for the hundredfold option.

5. And so he sayeth unto the Children of Israel, "Gird up thy tanks and go forth into the Land of Gaza and smite everything you see until this captive is restored to us."

6. And they did even as Ehud commanded.

7. But, guesseth what? The captured soldier returneth not.

8. And, meanwhile, there was great wailing and gnashing of teeth in the Land of Gaza, which was turned into an wilderness fit only for the cockatrice and the ant.

9. Now there dwelt in the Land of Lebanon certain Hizboll-ites who did look upon the works of the Hamas-ites and sayeth one to another:

10. "What the Hamas-ites have done, let us do also. For it seemeth a good idea.

11. "For as sure as the noonday sun riseth over the Cedars of Lebanon, the Sons of Israel will be consumed by wrath and their judgement will leaveth from the window".

12. And it was even as the Hizboll-ites foretold.

13. They also crept privily by night (See-eth above) and led certain soldiers of Israel into captivity.

14. Then Ehud waxed exceeding wroth, like unto the hornet when a man whacketh it with his flip-flop.

15. And Ehud again took counsel with himself (See-eth above again).

16. And, lo, yet again he reasoned that smiting was the only answer, but this time it would be a thousandfold.

17. So he commanded the Israelites: "Go forth unto the Land of Lebanon and lay it waste like unto Gaza, except more so, for these people learneth not their lesson.

18. "Unlike myself."

19. And so it came to pass and the Israelites smote the Hizboll-ites, and they smote back at the cities of the Israelites and meanwhile the Hamas-ites did some smiting as well.

20. And the Hamas-ites and the Hizboll-ites rejoiced, saying "It worketh every time".

21. But Ehud hearkeneth not, and sayeth unto himself:

22. "Perhaps I should extend the smiting to the Syrian-ites and then the Iran-ites and all the rest of the Arab-ites.

23. "Until there is no-one left to smite.

24. "And then the children of Israel may dwell in peace. Just as our forefathers didn't."

(To be continued throughout history)
Shorter, but with much the same punchline. All of which begs the question, what is the moral to be learnt from this tale?
I believe it is written somewhere, Thou shalt not steal.
*Before I forget, this post reminded me of something that happened in 2002, while I was in an Edinburgh boozer, discussing the Intifada with friends in the typically lamebrained fashion that an idealistic 23 year old would. It was a fairly big pub, but the landlord was obviously keen on a convivial atmosphere and wedged the tables and chairs in until there was barely room to lift a pint.
Much passionate denunciation of all sides was being flung about, when a scruffy looking guy in his mid-forties leaned into the conversation and said to me solemnly:
"I widnae bother with they intifada's, son. You can get a ten year old Porsche for about half the price."
He seemed to find this hysterical. Being a pompous ass, of course, I failed to see the funny side.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Through Gritted Teeth...

I said I wasn't going to trawl the internet tonight, but I thought a little glance over at Roy's place wouldn't hurt. Boy, was I wrong.

This is now the tenth time I've attempted to draw your attention to this little ditty from the mind of noted democracy lover, Roger L. Simon.

I'd normally sum it up, but please, just go read it.

The reason I've had such a hard time deconstructing this article is that I get about ten sentences in then start viciously bashing my head on my desk. I've always enjoyed trawling through the websites of the hysterical right, watching the tops of their heads emit clouds of putrid steam while little blue birdies flit in one ear and out the other, but this is a whole new order of terrifying callousness. I'm seriously considering junking this blog and just opening a porn site instead, at least I wouldn't feel like I have to scrub myself with oven cleaner at the end of the day.

What kind of a man would sit his comfortable home in Suburbia, CA, lecturing people whose homes are being bombed on how much they had it coming? More importantly, what kind of insults would be appropriate for such a man?

Please, just imagine that this space is filled with witty yet exceptionally nasty remarks about this man's mental faculties. It'll spare me the pain of having to pull down my thesaurus to look for twenty synonyms for the word "evil". Not to mention synonyms for "pompous", "precious", "preening", " vainglorious", "hypocritical", "duplicitous", " two-faced" "blowhard" and "snake".

I had thought I would never witness such a thing, but this man is the impossible offspring of a homosexual coupling.

His basic point is, he feels kinda sad, because he enjoyed ogling the pictures of those hot, hot young Lebanese nubiles during the "Cedar Revolution", but y'all shouldn't be living in the same country as those nasty psycho terrorists. Your bad, but now you're just gonna have to take your medicine, and there's no point resenting those brave, brave Israeli pilots who are cruising completely unopposed through the skies above your country, blasting your neighbourhood into rubble.

This is an instructive lesson in what happens in the Neo-con mind when the unstoppable force of Kickass Israeli Whizz-Bang collides with the immovable object of Freedom and Democracy:

Picture a human hand, one fingertip stained purple, being reversed over by a revving tank. Forever.

I imagine those Iranian democracy activists are overjoyed to learn that such fiercely committed ideologues are fighting their corner.

Too Scared To Put Up a Properly Argued Post

Sorry, too terrified to turn on the news. Who knows what I might find?


Definitely too terrified to click on any blogs, but here's my guess what'll be the hot topic of conversation on left and right:

Left: This doesn't look very good at all, why are all those brown children dead? That doesn't seem very nice. And I thought that the Lebanese government was pro-western... I've a good mind to post some pictures of cats.

Right: Yes! Yes! Kill 'em all! Exterminate all the brutes! Iran next, then Syria! Come on CNN, don't mess with those refugees, I want to see
blood and guts and veins in my teeth! Heaped, dead, burnt bodies...

... Oh, shit, I've just coughed my filthy yoghurt onto the keyboard. Mom! Can you bring down some Kleenex?

I'm peeking from between my fingers, and it looks like I'm deadly accurate as usual.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

My Dating Disasters

Via Sir Harold Hutton of the Cavalry, I note that ladies can now avail themselves of the services of Dontdatehimgirl.com, which allows them to alert other fair maidens to the cads and bounders in their midst.

About time too, although I am glad to note that there is no link to Flying Rodent, Mr., which is a sure sign that I have been a considerate and gentlemanly beau to my countless conquests.

All of which made me wonder whether I should use my page to alert my fellow men to any women I have courted who failed to meet my standards of civility.

I'll start with Ann, pictured, who I dated for a short while in Connecticut, US, in 2004.


As you can see, she looks comely enough, but her fair exterior hides a heart as black as night and a soul as dead as Adolf Eichmann. She ruined many a pleasant evening in the local bistros by overindulging in Chardonnay and spraying spittle upon the waitresses, while loudly castigating me as a traitor, a terrorist and a liberal fascist.

All that, and she has tits like spaniel's ears and a snatch that looks like a stamped bat breathing it's last, which came as a shock.

I know us British gents aren't supposed to kiss and tell, but I think Hugh Grant neatly blew that one out of the water.

Attention, Journalists!

You may be used to being reviled for the crude stereotype of the journalist as ambulance chaser or cheap sensationalist. You may well be used to being treated with suspicion and occasionally, contempt, in the course of your average working day.

I have news for you.

You are a traitor who deserves to die. Once more unto the trough, dear friends...


I appreciate that this may come as some surprise, since you probably consider that in your professional life you perform a valuable public service. The latest, but by no means least offensive, incident to cause this kind of outrage was the decision by the New York Times to publish this photograph of one of Moqtada Al-Sadr's Mahdi Army, taken by Portuguese photographer Joao Silva.

This prompted these comments from this moron, all addressed to the photographer:

"...Putrid sack of shit, Joao Silva..."

(Who has) "The Courage to actively aid and abet an enemy of the United States of America?"

(And is one of) "...the terrorists' most valued allies..."

Misha finishes off with the fevered wish that, "... one day, Mr. Silva will get himself another 'perfect picture', only to discover the effects of high explosives going off in his immediate vicinity".

The ludicrousness of this post may be breathtaking, but it is the reader comments that are the real clincher. And you thought you got hate mail?

Nor is this the only example of such lunacy - see also here, here, here, here, here and, most batshit crazily of all, here.

You may wonder what the problem is with these fascist morons. After all, a couple of crazies with websites isn't exactly a threat to freedom of the press, is it?

Drumroll........

Some of these sites take enough hits to place them in the top 100 newspapers in America. The site from which the above quotes are taken has racked up 5,490, 658 hits since 2003, and that's not a particularly impressive figure.

Any of you working at national newspapers might be interested in this, but shrug and say, well, it's all just big talk, isn't it?

A spot of investigative journalism on this subject might turn up something like this, which is a link to the home address of a journalist who photographed Donald Rumsfeld's country retreat. For those too stupid to rely on a map, he helpfully includes satellite photographs.

What we have here, friends, is a de facto blackshirt movement being constantly and approvingly linked to by the most popular right-wing sites on the internet. These people are not cranks and wackos, way out of the mainstream - they are the right-wing blogosphere.

What do you think, might make a good human interest feature?

With apologies to Glenn Greenwald, whose page my confederates almost certainly do not read.

P.S. More craziness from the hermanos derechos tomorrow, but I couldn't let you go without seeing this penetrating insight into the hard realities of the current middle east crisis, could I?

It's good to see there are people who are looking out for the real victims in this conflict.

Update: Full credit must be given to the cartoonist, who has such confidence in his or her abilities that he or she has felt the need to write the names of the world leaders on their jackets. Either that, or the intended audience is far too ignorant to recognise them unaided.

Monday, July 17, 2006

The Book of Ehud

CHAPTER 19

And it came to pass that the children of Israel, even as they were smiting the Hamasites in the land of Gaz-Ah, did not see the Hezbollites creep into their watchtowers, whereupon they slew many warriors and did carry away two sons of Israel unto Bei-rut.

2 And the King of the Israelites, who is called E-hud, was great in wrath, and there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth.

3 And E-hud sayeth, the Hezbollites hath really done it this time, for they shall suffer the slings and arrows of my people and the wrath of the LORD. Go forth, and let not one stone remain atop another in the cursed land of the Hezbollites, that is Leb-Anon.

4 And the Israelites cried with one voice, saying, Yea, for it is the only language they understand and they hath asked for it good and proper.

5 This they said unto each other, and unto the Broadcasting Corporation that is British, and even unto the News that is FOX, which reporteth whilst you decide.

6 And so the children of Israel rose up and smote the Hezbollites with a might blow.

7 And again.

8 And thrice they smote the Hezbollites, who were hiding in the basements of their fathers and the bunkers of con-crete, and felt not the spear-thrusts of the Israelites.

9 And lo, it came to pass that the fires of the Israelites did fall upon the heads and highways and buses and airport of the Shi-ites and the Maronites, and even upon their children, who had only gone out to buy a pint of the milk of the she-goat.

10 And the Shi-ites and the Maronites did look upon what the Israelites had wrought, and spake unto E-hud, saying, What dost thou think thou art doing, for we hath only just built that airport and thy slings and arrows hath driven out the money lenders.

11 And, We beseech thee for a Cease-fire.

12 But E-hud did not hear their pleas, for he was great in wrath and heard only the words of the Post that is from Jerusalem, which sayeth in a great and terrible voice, Kill the Bastards, Kill the Bastards, and Kill the Bastards.

13 And so, upon the stone tablets of Ameri-ca and Europ-a were graven the images of the children of the Shi-ites and the Maronites, who were sorely afflicted by the fires and the slings and arrows of the Israelites, even unto the arms and legs and eyes and hands and skin.

14 And the Europites did give great lamentation, crying unto E-hud, Do not start the World War that is Third, for we hath only just finished rebuilding our temples, and it is written that the Hezbollites and Hamasites and Al-Qaed-ites, not to mention the Samaritans and Babylonians and Persians and Hittites, could come among our tents the day after the one that is next, if they took the camel train from Constantinople.

15 But the King of the children of Sam that is Uncle, who lived in a land far across the Ocean, looked upon the slain children of the of Leb-Anon and saw that it was good, and the King sayeth, The Israelites hath the right to defend themselves, as the man in the field must swat the fly that buzzeth in his ear, even with the scythe which choppeth off his own head. Truly, the Hezbollites must stop this shit.

16 And the peoples of the sphere that is blog looked upon the slain children and saw that it was good, and great was their rejoicing, and loud were their hosannas, and they did openly say, without the merest hint of shame, Stupid Muslim children, my sympathy for thee was ended on the day that is eleventh of the month that is the ninth.

17 And the great King Tonay and the wise man An-Nan, who is called Kofi, did say unto themselves, let us raise a great army to journey unto Leb-Anon, where we shall make peace between the Israelites and the Hezbollites.

18 But the Israelites and the Hezbollites, hearing this, said unto themselves, Bugger that, for we are wise to the ways of our enemies, who know not the ways of peace.

19 And so a mighty truck bomb was brought unto the house of the United States Marine Corps, and the slings and arrows of the Israelites and the Hezbollites and the Hamasites did rain down upon the peoples of Israel and Leb-Anon and Gaz-Ah.

20 And lo, it was back to the square that is called one.

Friday, July 14, 2006

As promised, something to make up for that dull political ramble.
If it's Friday, it must be Perry Bible Fellowship day. Vamos!
Family obligations tonight, so no further posting. See y'all later, hermanos.

Thursday, July 13, 2006

Nature Abhors Prohibition

Witness the dreaded Pub Poker Crackdown.

I understand why the authorities would do this - I started out playing for kicks with friends, low stakes, just an excuse to get the guys round. It soon rampaged out of control.

Before I knew where I was, I'd been pulled into a world of seedy backroom card sharps and racketeers, ready to fleece me for every red cent I had.

I remember vividly one night in Stockbridge throwing down pocket bullets, only to see there were five aces in play. They nailed my head to the table of course, which was only fair, since I was cheating like a bastard.

It would've been easier to deal with if we hadn't been playing for matchsticks, but Edinburgh is a hard town full of hard men.

Jesus Fucking Christ!

Jesus fucking Christ!

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Why I Like Feminism

This blogging is a rough game and no mistake.

I've already had to clarify my fondness for Americans and the military, now I've been told that a previous post is evidence of my animus against women. This is a little wearing, and I'm beginning to think that the easiest thing to do would be to find a more perceptive group of friends.

Like all well adjusted males, I have a great affection for the fairer sex. I even did it with one once, although admittedly I did have to pay her forty Euros immediately afterwards and she didn't seem too interested in a post-coital cuddle.

She seemed to enjoy herself, although I am a big enough man to admit that her moans of ecstasy were more likely attributable to professional pride, as opposed to my sensitive skills as a lover.

Nonetheless, with that forty Euros she would've been able to buy a really snazzy pair of shoes, so everyone was happy in the end.

And when all's said and done, isn't that what's really important?

Why Is Everyone So Desperate To...

...Go to Glasgow?

I mean, it's a fine city. Great architecture, great shops, great bars, great nightlife. It even has a cool little underground system, although it looks like it's been transplanted into the 21st century directly from 1974.

But every time I pass the bus or the train station, some haggard geezers or rough looking women with pushchairs ask me for fifty pence towards a ticket to Glasgow. They're even prepared to concoct a patently false story to convince me to part with the cash! Why? What am I missing? I think I should be told.

One would've thought that, with the money they're saving by not buying new clothes or shaving, they'd be able to afford the fare, but I suppose rents are high and times are hard for us all.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

The Red Terror, Reborn!

Or, an abject lesson in why Scotland is surely the most depraved place on Earth. When the tabloid media gets a bit of political flesh between their teeth, they're apt to cling on like a pitbull to a toddler.

It appears that Tommy Sheridan MSP has out-done even the most debauched Tory victorian with some eye-wateringly filthy conduct.

Tommy Sheridan, for the uninitiated, is ex-leader of the Scottish Socialist Party, the Scottish Parliament's ultra-left. For any Americans reading, Howard Dean and Ted Kennedy are soppy centrists; this is what an actual Communist looks like.

Tommy Sheridan MSP - Tanned Trotskyite and Demon Shagger, allegedly.

And yes, that is the revolutionary salute. It's enough to bring a solitary tear to the eye, recalling as it does the days when The Left was regarded as a ravening beast, apt to launch into a bloody insurrection and leave the mansions and parks of the upper classes ablaze in the moonlight. These days, of course, the left are regarded with so much contempt that they let a Tory become leader of the Labour Party and John Kerry is described as a "radical liberal".

Choice exerpts include:

Journalist Khan, 39, is a former lover of MSP Sheridan. She claimed they had sex before and after his marriage in June 2000... Khan estimated that between 1994 and 2000, she had sex with Sheridan six times. She claimed they continued to have sex after he married wife Gail.

So far so tedious, you may say. But the real filth hasn't even started yet.

Khan claimed: "Tommy said, 'Why don't we have some fun before we nip away down to Manchester.' "He and I got undressed and started to have sex. At that point, Andy and Katrine came into the room to join us. "I was not comfortable with that. I got my clothes and walked out of the room. I left them to it."

Clearly a classy lady, although not quite classy enough to pick up her handbag and bolt for the door.

Khan said they drove to Cupid's in Manchester and Sheridan paid them in. She said: "There was a cloakroom on the left where you get changed into costume or, if you want, leave your coat."... She revealed: "Some people were fetishists. Some were couples sitting on couches watching pornography on big screens, eating popcorn with nipple clamps and fishnet tights, barely speaking to each other."

Pretty exotic, but nothing that doesn't happen on a wet Tuesday round at my house. But the coup de grace is yet to be delivered...

"I took a look around and I remember Tommy and Katrine going off together. I asked Andy where they had gone and he said to a private room with some other people." I remember when Tommy came back I asked him, 'Are you using a condom?' He said the people were very respectful and clean and had good personal hygiene."

And this, ladies and gents, is the quote that made my night...

"Realising contraception was not being used, I vowed never again to have anything to do with Tommy Sheridan."

Quite right too, dear. It's one thing to engage in hot three-in-a-bed action, attend swingers clubs and have sex with complete strangers, but a girl has her limits.

I would like to add that this has all come to light because Mr. Sheridan has launched a £200,000 libel suit in order to clear his name of suspicions of sexual impropriety.

The truth will, no doubt, exonerate him in time.

P.S. It's occurred to me that some might not quite recognise the sarcasm in that last sentence. Allow me to explain - under the UK's ludicrous libel laws, there's a decent chance that all of the above accusations could be proved to be 100% accurate and Mr. Sheridan will still win the case.

If anyone would like to know why, I would suggest looking at the antics of Britain's political and industrial classes over the last century and putting two and two together.

Monday, July 10, 2006

Advantage Putin!

Glorious Russian leader Vladimir Putin has struck back in the terrorist-killing tit-for-tat battle with the imperialist capitalist George W. Bush!

The struggle has been going on some time, with Bush stretching into a seemingly unassailable lead with the killing of Abu Musab Al-Zarqawi last month, following a long list of killed and captured Al-Qaeda "Third-In-Commands".

But Putin has surely pulled back within sight, smiting Chechen separatist and mass-murderer Shamil Basayev, pictured.


You may not recognise him in this picture, but the ways of the terrorist are wily. As would befit a man trained by the KGB, Basayev has changed his appearance through the sly ruse of growing a beard. Readers may be more familiar with the clean-shaven, skinhead psycho look he adopted in days when he was a more high-profile figure:

Basayev, seen here menacing noted actor Pierce Brosnan.

Putin was obviously alarmed by the Chechen guerilla leader's plan to detonate a nuclear warhead on the Bosphorus, making Russian and Middle Eastern oil impossible to transport.

Obviously, this is a triumph for Putin, although it will upset the hermanos derechos no end that Basayev will have felt no pain, due to a bullet lodged in his cerebral cortex.

We can, however, take comfort in the fact that he was probably able to see the uranium-laced nuclear rod as it blasted into his stomach. Thus perish all terrorists who defy the implacable will of Putin!

Thursday, July 06, 2006

Hints to the Conservative Movement - How to Reclaim the Culture, Part One

In my previous post I stated that I was going to reclaim some traditionally big-L Liberal cultural bastions for the conservative cause. The first thing subject to the scrutiny of my remorseless logic may strike some people as ridiculous, but I beg of you – hear me out.

The manufacture, retail and consumption of pornography are all conservative activities.

I realise there will be some heads shaking at the back, but I ask you to make this one mental leap – imagine that a majority of conservatives weren’t afflicted with deep seated psychological dysfunctions on the subject of sex.

I know, I know, I can hear you saying “But surely we would call such people liberals!”. Sadly, the myth persists that pornography is an industry maintained solely to advance a liberal agenda of free love. This shocking falsehood must be exposed.

1. Pornography is the ultimate expression of the free market.

What do conservatives on both sides of the Atlantic love more than a newspaper headline about terrorist, benefit scrounging, single-parent asylum seekers? You guessed it – the self-made man. And if there’s one thing that the sex industry has in spades, it’s risk taking entrepreneurs ready to exploit the talents they have to make as much money as possible.

From the streetwalkers of Leith all the way up to Jenna Jameson and Larry Flint, the sex worker knows what sells – naked white ass, lots of it, and the filthier the better. What could achieve more acclaim in these post-Reagan/Thatcher days than a young man or woman, born with nothing other than an impressive array of sexual organs and the sheer will to succeed?*

Imagine the hooker from Vietnam, or the Oklahoma prom queen fresh off the greyhound gaping in her first rapt gaze upon the glory of Hollywood, or the young man whose only true talents are manipulating women and hustling for cash. When these young businesspeople take their first exploratory steps into the world of cumshots, double penetration and BDSM, I can picture the moustachioed, moon face of Thomas Friedman suspended over them, huge and pendulous with the received wisdom of his capitalist forebears, nodding with sage approval.

Andy Warhol’s statement about fifteen minutes of fame has never been more apt here. For fifteen minutes of close-up genital penetration, mild spanking and faux-lesbianism, every girl can feel like a princess if she has the determination. All it takes is the get-up-and-go. Or the lie-down-and-get-it, depending on the type of movie.

And the best part is, the hooker with the bad teeth, the world weary porn star labouring into her fifteenth year in the business, all are subject to the laws of the free market – if the punters don’t buy your wares, you’re in the dustbin! Crawl off and die, old timer, because there are plenty of hot young nubiles waiting to take your place in that sex sandwich!

2. Pornography is traditional.

Love it or loathe it, they don’t call the sex trade “the oldest profession” for nothing. From the rank alleys of ancient Rome to the teeming neon avenues of Las Vegas, sex has been bought and sold for as long as there have been human settlements.

And as we know, there’s nothing the conservative mind adores more than tradition! Here’s my suggestion to the new leader of the Tory party; don’t bother coming up with any punchy slogans or well thought out policies before the next election, just print up a load of Union Jack flags with a picture of a bored Victorian hooker pinned up against a wall by a sweating, thrusting sailor.

Where do you think all these sexual swearwords come from? It’s our language! Use it! “Vote for the fucking Tory party, now with four inches more cock!”.

3. Conservative men love porn. All of them.

From America’s own Jim Swaggert and Bill O’Reilly to Jeffrey Archer and Alan “Shagger” Clark, there’s nothing the conservative man likes more than grubby sex. The UK is particularly full of pious perverts. This is a nation where, after the Prime Minister declared that his party stood for “Victorian values”, practically the entire party set about proving it with a string of mind-bogglingly indecent incidents.

First, heritage Minister David Mellor got caught for banging an actress – nothing odd there, but he made her wear his Chelsea FC strip before grunting out his bestial love upon her. If you think this is an uncharitable description, this is David Mellor.

Then, it turns out that Norman Lamont, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, for God’s sake, is leasing a flat to a dominatrix named “Miss Whiplash”.

Then – and I hesitate to make fun of the dead – le piece de resistance.

Steven Milligan, MP for Eastleigh was found dead, asphyxiated, draped across his kitchen table, clad only in women’s underwear, with an orange in his mouth. A length of cord was tied behind him, between his neck and his ankles. Only the more lurid tabloids dared speculate that this was auto-erotic asphyxiation, or “gasping”.

Add to this the copious consumption of pornographic magazines, DVDs and sex phone lines in the south of England and Middle America and you have a huge, morally conservative morass of upstanding members of the community continually making the beast with one back over Butt Pirates of the Caribbean, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 375 days a year.

Victorian values? You bet – perversion is as conservative as faggot-hating and xenophobia.

Case Closed?

Not by half – I haven’t even touched on the legal brothels of Nevada, sex toy sales, Google searches by region, the Best Little Whorehouse in Texas or public school homosexuality. In exactly which parts of our countries are men are getting jiggy with cows, sheep, horses and goats? I’ll take a wild stab in the dark and guess it’s not Edinburgh, Paris or New York.

So the next time you read some pompous oaf decrying the liberal plot to force pornography into the classroom, you send him over here to the Flying Rodent. Free pornography for the masses! You’ll certainly get the 20-something wanker vote.

The conservative should be proud of the seven-way gangbang, for it is his heritage, his culture, nay, it is his country.

*Jesus, I never even noticed what a filthy word “succeed” is. It’s an outrage against the English language.

Conservative Humour

Witness the comical stylings of Michael Ledeen, leading neoconservative thinker and longtime advocate of democratisation of the Middle East.

Makes You Wonder [Michael Ledeen]
In today's "reportage" of the World Cup semifinal between Italy and Germany, the (lefty) Washington Post reported that the game-winning goal was scored on a left-footed kick, while the (righty) Washington Times reported it was scored on a right-footed kick. The Post account was correct, but don't you find it mysteriously symbolic of something or other?


Also, for those, like Dr. Kissinger, who insist on seeing national character reflected in the style of play by national soccer teams, I am reminded that Italy always beats Germany in the World Cup, and they do it by demonstrating those qualities that are invariably (and mistakenly, I think) ascribed to Germans: discipline, patience, courage, tenacity, stamina.

And, lest we forget—and we always do—the Italians have fought bravely, tenaciously and patiently in Iraq, taking many losses and pressing forward nonetheless. I frankly haven't noticed brave Germans out there, but no doubt it's an oversight on my part.

Of course, by "advocate of democratisation in the Middle East" I mean "advocate of blasting the fuck out of the Middle East until they agree to act more like Americans".

I don't think there's a need to respond to Ledeen's comments, as they will stand until the end of civilisation as eloquent testimony to his stupidity and crassness. I'm prepared to believe that this is meant to be a joke, but if there's a punchline in there, I can't see it.

In fact, after years of reading the inane propoganda of self-important political bloggers, I can't remember coming across one right-wing site that was humorous. P.J. O'Rourke is generally held up as the joker of the right, but my experience of his articles is that the gags generally all have the same punchline - "hippies smell". Hardly ground breaking stuff.

This zinger from the Prez himself made me laugh, but for all the wrong reasons. In an interview for Talk Magazine during his first Presidential campaign, Bush was asked what death row inmate Karla Faye Tucker might say to him if she was given the chance to plead for her life.

Reportedly, Bush let his bottom lip quiver, made big, pleading puppy dog eyes and said "Please, don't kill me." Now, there's a thigh-slapper.

In fact, the only gag I can remember a right-winger cracking that made me laugh as hard was a rib-tickler from the pen of frustrated suburban Dad and full time fun-hatin', youth-detestin' crank James Lileks -

"Sometimes I swear that if a European hits his thumb with a hammer when no one’s around, he shouts GODDAMN JEWS!"

Now, I'm uncertain whether it's the author's Schindler's List stereotype of Europeans that's funny here, or the fact that he actually believes there might be a grain of truth to this statement, but it tickled my funny bone.

Anyone harbouring any doubts? Google the phrase "Conservative Humour" and hit "I'm feeling lucky". You'll get this. The Onion, it is not.

So we're agreed - right-wing humour is deeply, stunningly unfunny. It seems only lefties are capable of raising a belly laugh, so I've decided to help these kids out. Over the next few weeks, any time I think of anything nasty to say about Hilary Clinton, Jacques Chirac or Michael Moore, I'll be sure to post it and they can make use of it at leisure. They won't even have to credit me.

And for an added bonus, I'll also reclaim a few other famous lefty bastions for them too. How can so much generosity reside in the heart of one man, you ask?

For I am the Flying Rodent, bringer of wisdom and mirth!

Well, wisdom at any rate. Of a kind.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Honey, I said some things I didn't mean to say out loud

In fact, forget everything I've just said. I'm sure that the decent left (from hereon to be referred to as "the Left that dare not speak Its name") is comprised of wonderful individuals with a genuine concern for the unfortunate souls of the Middle East.

Forget everything I said about the War on Terror being a disaster, debacle, clusterfuck etc.

I've decided to wait until the Hollywood WoT movie comes out. My guess is it'll star Tom Hanks and Tom Sizemore, and it'll turn out Uncle Sam had everything under control from the beginning, so I don't have to worry about UK soldiers dying in huge numbers.

In fact my guess is that the movie will show that there weren't even any Brits there in the first place.

Monday, July 03, 2006

Why I Like The Military

Blogger informs me that, in order to add a picture to my profile, I need to post it somewhere online first. This is good news for me, since every post I add pushes that tedious rant about Ann Coulter a little further down. Although I still say that the commenters at Biased BBC are a bunch of hysterical, whiny little twats.

This is a photo of me fetchingly dressed in my favourite piece of evening wear, a British Army chemical weapon encounter suit. I find that it tends to ward off annoying people who want to tell me about their mortgages and new flatscreen HDTVs, although it's common knowledge that ladies love a man in uniform.


Granted, it is a little warm for this time of year, but with the proper boots and gloves it is sealed against tear and mustard gas, which comes in quite handy on a Saturday night out. I would've been pictured holding my SA-80 rifle, but I'd been sitting pointing the thing at the doors and windows for two months and it needed to be cleaned. You never know when a gang of furious islamofascists could burst through the door and attempt to make off with your TV - better to have it and not need it, I say.

I can't tell you how proud it makes my family to see me looking so handsome in my military uniform. It makes my mother's heart glad to see me clad in the martial finery of the United Kingdom's elite fighting forces, and I'm told that my younger brothers so idolise me that they've been known to teargas each other, just out of sheer respect for my manliness.

Mind you, it pisses my Granddad off no end, but that's only because he spent four years in Long Kesh after being convicted of smuggling machine guns for the IRA, the old rogue.

Sunday, July 02, 2006

A Heartfelt Plea

I gather that ye olde flag-burning issue has been in the news again recently. I have no strong views on the subject and cannot imagine why anyone would. Personally, I would've thought that the worst thing that could happen for the backers of this amendment would be for it to pass. If it did, they'd have to start coming up with sensible ideas for managing the economy and winning all the wars they've started.

However, I've just finished my daily dive through the trough of right-wing bloggers, and I see that the mental collossi and philosophical geniuses are up to their usual antics. While traversing their ramblings I suddenly had an epiphany - I have now realised the true extent of my power.

This is my American flag, purchased in New York City in 2004.



This is my cigarette lighter.



The message I wish to convey to our right-wing brothers is a short one - quit with the crazy, or ole glory gets it.

I'm setting a time limit - from tomorrow onwards, no blogger accuses another of being a traitor, terrorist sympathiser, objectively pro-Saddam Baathist enabler or elitist latte-sipping bobo. No more "heh, indeedy"s, no more inane analyses of popular movies to back up conservative talking points, not one more mind-bendingly dull "fisking". Any of that shit, and I'm breaking out the lighter fuel.

I understand that it may take time to alert all of the hermanos derechos to the new rules, so I won't take action just yet. But if this nonsense is still going on at midnight GMT, I'll let the sucker touch the ground. If you're still at it tomorrow night then, well, I won't be held responsible.

I'll be sad to do it, since I think it adds a welcome touch of colour to my otherwise Spartan abode, but needs must when the devil drives.