Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Background: Some A-level students have got low scores in an exam because they were confused by the word "despotic" in the question; Charitable reading of the situation makes their objections seem reasonable, while ignorant, desk-pounding reading of the situation makes them look like idiots.
Dramatis Personae: Cackling cavalcade of torn-faced, middle-aged ballbags; representatives for Kids-These-Days.
The Set-up: Torn-faced, middle-aged ballbags diagnose death of civilisation, bemoan stupidity of Kids-These-Days.
The Money Shot: Despite his or her tender years, blog commenter AngryStudent nails the modus operandi of 95% of bloggers, 100% of wingnuts with the following diagnosis...
I've learnt from the boards I've read and posted on that unfortunately the majority of adults are hugely ignorant and stubborn. They read it in a paper and immediately take that side of the story, without hearing us out first. What it comes down to is that they have absolutely no idea what they are talking about, but because they read it in a paper they now view themselves as world experts on answering A-Level questions. And some of them have the cheek to say the country is doomed, when it is their generation who has led us into a depression. Woops!
Hats off to AngryStudent - he or she may struggle with the difference between a despotism and a tyranny - may, for all I know, be completely daft in every other respect - but that's one hundred words of teenaged Perceptiveness WIN.
Thanks due: Band.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
So Michael Jackson died the way he lived - to the sound of a billion text message jingles heralding an avalanche of contrived kiddy-fiddling gags.
I've already said so at Hutton's place, but I think that it'd be great if Jarvis Cocker gatecrashed Jacko's funeral and started slapping his arse at LaToya. We can only hope that Janet can restrain herself from jamming her right diddy into the lens of a papparazzo's camera, thus disturbing what will doubtless be a quiet, dignified and very private service.
Jackson-related trivia - Mama-say, mama sah, mama-mah-koo-sah is Swahili for Quincy Jones likes African choirs but can't be arsed to learn Swahili. Thank God he hadn't holidayed in Scotland instead, or Wanna Be Startin' Something would end with the repeated refrain of Ahma pished as fuck an ah've been stabbed.
Picture credit - Clut at B3ta.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Thus spake Christine Grahame MSP this week, upon hearing that the National Library Of Scotland had banned one of its employees from festooning his desk with flags and tartan in the mistaken belief that he works on the front of a biscuit tin.
God help us if we ever have any real problems. Who knows how we would respond if we were struck by some catastrophe such as, say, a planet-crushing worldwide financial disaster that tossed millions of people out of their jobs and homes and reduced the great democratic experiment to a grubby competition to see which political party could most enthusiastically suck off the bankers.
I always find that there's nothing like a bit of extra-terrestrial enslavement to focus the mind on what's really important.
"Of course, American predator drone attacks are rather controversial in Pakistan..."
You've got to love the BBC's neutrality policy. I imagine that if the Americans launched a series of seemingly-random rocket attacks on London without, you know, actually declaring war on us, the Beeb would definitely describe the bombings as "a bit of a rum do" and "not very sporting".
Coming soon - Ripper Attacks "Unpopular" Among Prostitutes; Tartan Army "Somewhat Thirsty," and Nick Griffin "Rather Portly" and Not Keen On Motown.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Libertarian News, 26th June 2009
Libertarian statistician Leopold Bulger-Bawsack yesterday pronounced himself "disgusted and horrified" after his studies proved that over 60% of people who have been subjected to the tyrannical healthcare of socialist NHS hospitals have subsequently died.
"The statistics are undeniable," Bulger-Bawsack told Libertarian News. "Since its inception, the statist NHS charnel house has murdered millions of people, at least 60% of the people it has treated".
"The death rate is particularly marked among the elderly and the terminally ill, many of whom died within hours of falling into the health service's malign clutches... Like the Nazis, it seems that the ZaNu Liebore looters and moochers are actively exterminating the old and the infirm".
Bulger-Bawsack's in-depth study provides new evidence indicating that the recent introduction of private healthcare has ameliorated matters.
"The difference is stark," he said. "Of the people who used NHS services in 1948, almost 80% have subsequently died, many of them in a terribly weakened and withered condition... Yet recent private healthcare initiatives within the NHS have had a marked effect - in the past five years, only 14% of those subjected to the horrors of government-run hospitals have been murdered".
"My conclusions should be obvious - the only way to reduce the patient death-rate to zero is to immediately disband the NHS and replace it with a system of private-sector healthcare provision".
Sadly, Bulger-Bawsack does not expect the socio-fascist ZaNuLiebore administration to heed his advice, and predicts that it will continue with it's objectively pro-death medical policies.
"The decent, hard-working people of Britain are united in their opposition to death in all its forms," he said. "Until an elected libertarian government is given the chance to put an end to mortality itself by instituting a policy of top-class private-sector healthcare for everyone*, the people will continue their long death-march into the NHS gulag".
*Subject to financial and health restrictions.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
These things always make me feel like a bit of a lemon, since churches aren't exactly my natural environment. The usual scene features me standing in a crowd of singing people, quietly emitting weird vowel sounds in random tones to give the impression that I know how the songs go. I've always assumed that, thirty years from now, religious weddings and funerals will consist of long speeches interspersed with short, embarrassing bouts of atonal yowling by a baffled, Godless congregation.
This time though, I had no excuse, since the melodies of all the songs are commonly sung in football grounds throughout the land, generally to question the sexuality and parentage of the opposition's best players, or offered as prayers for their star striker's immediate death. This is an impressive gambit by the church, since many attendees will be far more familiar with We Hope You Die In Your Sleep, Nacho Novo than they are with Sing Hosanna To The King.
This may have a wider impact than we might expect, and I suggest that any enterprising religious lyricist would propser by drafting devotional verses to the Monkees' Daydream Believer and Go West by the Village People.
Who knows? If it catches on, it might bring a new competitive edge to religious ceremonies. I, for one, would want first row seats if I thought there was a good chance that the exchange of rings might be halted as the Maid of Honour brings down the minister with a crude, two-footed tackle from behind.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Sunday, June 14, 2009
If I can be forgiven some unjustified vanity, I think the Decentpedia got hits because it filled a gaping space in the market for mockery of some particularly deserving targets. Some of it was funny and, I like to think, made some good points about the obvious propaganda scams of an unusually dishonest political tendency, but a lot of it was basically filler.
I think it was a project worth pursuing, since the blog's purpose was essentially the same as this one, i.e. 1) urinating noisily over the notion that the internet creates a space for better, more incisive political debate, rather than enabling propagandists and bullshitters who should be 2) laughed at rather than engaged in discussion. Useful debate and discussion surely require participants to keep a sense of proportion; to be reasonable, open-minded and fairly honest, and to grant their opponents at least some intellectual charity. By this metric, Decency = Epic Fail.
Well, that gap in the market is now closed, and in the end it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the horrible personality flaws of Decency's chief players, the woeful failure of the political causes they spun for and the military bloodbaths they wanted.
Harry's Place has long since been called out for the nasty, wingnut toilet that it is, and now even the reasonable posts they put up are so tainted by the lying bullshit the Saucers proliferate that no sane person would take them seriously. Professor Norm spends his evenings grousing and bitching like an aging drag queen; David Aaronovitch can't publish a recipe for beans on toast without attracting four thousand comments calling him a paid mouthpiece for the status quo.
Meanwhile, the Euston Manifesto continues to languish in obscurity and Ollie Kamm's output is recognised as the tepid, right wing bumfluff it is.
Tragedy in the classical hubris/nemesis form has struck HP mentalist David T., who increasingly resembles a late-period Richard Nixon, large scotch in hand, presiding over a party of hateful wingnuts from a darkened Oval Office while feverishly scribbling new names onto his enemies list. Nick Cohen - the only one of them who struck me as being a really unpleasant and probably deranged person - is surely only weeks away from dismissal from The Observer for submitting a column scrawled in his own faeces.
So the world's moved on, thankfully rendering the Decents and myself obsolete. The wreckage the Blairite project has left is going to be swept away and something new built in its place, but it seems clear it'll happen without the assistance of mid-life crisis-stricken ex-Trots demanding that the Left condemn every news story that plops into their email inbox, and calling anyone who fails to show sufficient enthusiasm for the task a Nazi.
Why, if it weren't for the still-raging wars and the gruesome, 27-car pileup that is the Labour Party, I'd almost call it a happy ending.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
I've had one joker explain to me that dismissing far right voters as morons, cretins, dupes and bigots is an act of elitist contempt, the appropriate collective term now being "alienated working class whites," or some such cant.
Honestly, these right wingers with their totalitarian speech codes - it's come to a pretty pass when a British citizen can't call a spade a spade without facing dictatorial demands to moderate his language to avoid offending the delicate sensibilities of thin-skinned racial majorities. This country's turning into a Gestapo toilet filled with moralising ZaNUKIP language police, crushing the citizenry with their trendy psychobabble.
Anyway, I thought I'd help out the effort to exonerate hate-happy voters and incriminate teh Left with a few suggestions of my own, as an act of goodwill.
1) Idiots are voting for the BNP because of those natty suits they wear, and those nice neat haircuts. That Gordon Brown just dresses like a tinker's dog;
2) Nick Griffin pledged twice as much annexation of Sudetenland, increased funding for invasions of Poland;
3) Citizens from heavily-populated areas enthused by promises of more lebensraum; offers of annual holidays at a number of Aryan spacious kampfsites;
4) Free pudding. Pudding!
5) Golliwog-free jam jar labels have become horribly obvious metaphor for voters' political, sexual impotence;
6) If voters' Grandads could've foreseen the state of the country today, they would've fought for the Nazis instead;
7) Kids these days, I ask you. God help us if there's ever another race war.
8) Jews keep ringing voters' doorbells, then running away; PC Brigade refuse to help no matter how many times voters dial 999.
9) Can't walk down the street without tripping over lesbians and pygmies, lesbian pygmies;
10) It's okay for the blacks to call each other "nigger", but just you try shouting that at the kid who wins the egg-and-spoon race at a school sports day and they'll bloody arrest you;
11) Just encouraged to change vote by BNP activist friend who helps the party out by stuffing envelopes with letter bombs.
There, that's enough to be going on with for now.
*About the same number of babbling idiots as voted for them at the last election, as it happens, but if wingnuts can completely ignore the total obliteration of their economic doctrine in the last few months, ignoring this isn't going to be hard.
A change of tack for wingnut poster boy Hannan today. While lesser Tory brethren scrabble for ways to spin the BNP's newly-elected MEPs as a triumph for the right and a pulverising defeat for the Sociofascists... (which some of them manage without, you know, openly celebrating) ...Dan settles for calling the cabinet a pack of jumped-up queers for lacking the stones to overthrow the PM.
"A gaggle of pantywaists... like castrated bullocks... behaving like stroppy girlfriends, stomping around theatrically while refusing to articulate their anger. 'What's wrong, Darling?' 'Nothing!' "
Coming from any other politician this would seem a little odd, but anyone who's ever seen the rippling hunk of pulsating manflesh that is Hannan in action will know that a read of his Telegraph column is a one-way ticket to the TestosterZone.
Truly, his prose crackles with throbbing machismo - flick through his columns and you can almost hear him crushing apples between his pecs and cracking walnuts with his foreskin while he types. If ever a man's man existed with the red-blooded credentials and the bulging cojones to pour scorn on another bloke's masculinity, Dan Hannan is that man.
Not that Dan's making a bad point, mind, since the cabinet's performance has been a cringeworthy display of public subservience and private bravado. I just don't get why the cocksucker has to resort to homophobic jibes, is all.
Monday, June 08, 2009
Boy, this is an edifying sight - we could call it the cherry on the cake, if by Cherry we mean Fresh, steaming turd and by Cake we mean Frenzied pack of weasels attacking the twitching corpse of Brownite Labour.
Check this out - Channel Four's Dispatches tonight slings together James Purnell, Nick Cohen, George Osborne, Vince Cable, Hazel Blears, representatives for Lehman Brothers, Irwin Steltzer and a great, hoaching gaggle of compromised politicos, up-to-their-eyeballs bankers, tame journalists and pundits for a barely-disguised political hatchet job on a deserving PM.
I'm watching the Blairites and their media creatures, plus the Tories, the Lib Dems, spokesmen for international finance... All of them knifing Gordon Brown like randy little rippers, and all of them united in the single purpose of strapping every political crisis of the last year - the credit crunch, the nasty email scandal and the MPs expenses outrage, amongst others - to Gordon Brown personally, then burying them all six feet under with him and what remains of his faction.
All of this was clearly intended to be a joyous, fourteen-way gangbang at the funeral of a just-resigned Prime Minister. It was to be one last orgiastic bash to bury not only Brown himself, but the complicity of Britain's entire ruling class in their various self-inflicted catastrophes.
Only one problem - when the participants arrived oiled up, erect and ready to rut, there was the undead Prime Minister, sitting upright in his coffin shooting them his best glum glower.
Now, that's what I call a passion-killer.
Obviously, the plan was that the Blairites would publicly trash the PM before the European elections, thus tanking their ailing campaign and hopefully igniting a popular uprising in the party and the press.
That's the classic Al Qaeda plan, for the militarily inclined among you - mount a massive suicide attack so spectacular that it exposes the enemy's innate weakness, in the hope that the populace will rise in revolution. Thus, we've seen the Purnells and the Blears strapping dynamite to their bodies and hurling themselves howling at Number 10 in a co-ordinated assault designed to frag their own party's already doomed electoral campaign, and the PM with it.
Well, we saw how that plan worked for the Al Qaeda leadership, most of whom are either in hiding, in prison or in the ground. I guess the Blairite insurgency will find better digs than a cave in Waziristan or a cold cell in Guantanamo Bay for now, before crushing defeat at the next election inspires them to slink off into the private sector, leaving only bomb craters and smoking ruins behind them.
All of this is pretty obvious stuff for those who care to look, but I can't shake that Dispatches programme. It's some confident conspirators that lay their schemes out in the open, yet here it is, plain for all to see.
The Blairites get to live out their miraculous redemption fantasy; The Tories get to claim the scalp of a Labour PM. As for everyone else, well, who knows? I imagine the banks would appreciate a newer, more forgetful leader, what with all those nasty debts, and the journos have a decade's worth of festering grudges to expunge. Christ, Nick Cohen alone must have a Dick Nixon-style shit-list longer than his own small intenstine.
This isn't repellent because it's a supposedly left wing PM that's the target - fuck Gordon Brown. His crime in my eyes is getting involved with this shower of deceitful turds in the first place, and he's been up to his nuts in every scam and scandal of the New Labour years. He wanted the premiership so badly he was prepared to do anything to get it, and now he is getting it, good and hard.
But let's not dance around what we've seen with last week's press circle jerk and shows like tonight's Dispatches. It's a naked attempt by a massive chunk of the nation's ruling class to pin all the faults of the country they created - the fucked financial system, the sleaze-ridden politics, the empty PR machine that is New Labour - on Brown, leaving the rest of them to get on with business as usual.
That would suit them just fine, and much of the electorate too. After all, we've just watched the entire continent mount protest votes against the system that tanked the world's economy into the toilet by voting for that same system's most furious proponents. So it's always gone in politics - even George W. Bush found out that red or blue mean less than nothing if the wrong people stop making enough green.
Back in Britain, Brown's sitting tight for the moment and may even make it through the next year intact. Me, I don't much care which butt-ugly face Labour plasters on its posters for the next election.
I'm just interested to see how, should these futhermuckers finally succeed in putting Brown in the ground, they manage to dress it up as a triumph for democracy and accountability.
"We Must Never Forget To Vote For Paranoid, Xenophobic Hatred And Thuggish Persecution Of Inferior Races,"
BBC News, 8th June
Heads were bowed across Europe yesterday as the continent paused to remember the millions of people who gave their lives to create a free, democratic world for fascism and hatred.
World leaders gathered in Normandy to commemorate the D-Day landings, the great military operation which paved the way for the defeat of Nazism, while across Europe voters rushed to the polls to hand racist propagandists a ringing endorsement.
The 65 year anniversary of the landings, in which tens of thousands of allied troops gave their lives, were marked by mass celebrations among Europeans eager to recall how much they hate each other, especially the filthy Untermenschen amongst them who pollute the purity of the Aryan race.
There were tears from veterans as they recalled the sacrifices of their fallen comrades. Terry Baker, 92, recalled how he had seen four friends cut in half by machine gun fire on Juno beach.
"It was so long ago, but I can still remember their deaths it like it happened yesterday," he said. "Of course, what with the way things have turned out, it looks like they would've been better off volunteering for the fucking Wehrmacht."
The weekend's electoral results have been hailed as a triumphant victory for democracy, intolerance and cattle truck manufacturers.
Thursday, June 04, 2009
What rubbish - I played Killzone 2 all day instead of voting, and I've spent the last fifteen minutes calling every one of Britain's new MEPs a shower of crooks, cads and cock-knockers.
And that's before the winners have been announced, mind. I laugh in the face of convention, me.