Monday, December 31, 2012

Time

"Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone the song is over, thought I'd something more to say"

(Time - Pink Floyd)

Appropriate for the end of a year.

G and I were sitting and musing on the passing of years, and the fact that there will (as usual) be the crop of new year binges across the country tonight. And we thought "so what is time, exactly?".

And of course greater minds than ours have examined the conundrum of time. Mathematicians have declared it to be the 4th dimension, following length, breadth and height, the familiar three. So while I sit here, hardly moving in 3 dimensions, I am speeding along in the 4th with all the rest of us. I shudder to conceptualise the other 7 or so dimensions that I'm reliably informed also exist.

So what will 2013 bring, and why do we want to especially welcome it with parties and lotsa booze and drugs and trance and all that crap? The easy answer to this double-barreled question is : 2013 will bring the same as 2012 and all the years before. Good things will happen, bad things will happen, people will be born and people will die. All of us will grow older. It's called "life" and it happens all the time.

And we welcome it with parties, because there are many clever people out there who know how to take advantage of many other people. And there are far more other people out there who are hell-bent on spending money in order to be convinced that they're having a good time. And they will - at least they think they will - on New Year's eve. They will drink and rock and roll and party and quite a few of them will kiss complete strangers in a fit of bonhomie in the "spirit of the season" and some may wind up having spontaneous sex either with a partner or a stranger; and many more of them will wake sometime on 1 January (or later) with a hell of a hangover and wonder what happened and why they did it (again) this year?

And the clever people will be more wealthy, and the masses will be poorer, but they will think they are happy, because they have been entertained. This is called "seeing the new year in". Consider it seen, and it's no different to the other 50 or so occasions (depending on how long you've been alive).

And when you drag yourself off the planet and you imagine yourself as a spaceman sitting far out in space, looking at the earth turning slowly, do you know time? You look at your watch and what do you see? It says 15H45, but it might as well say 03h03 or any other "time", because for everyone on the surface of the blue planet, it is every time and no time - all the time at every instant of the day. And while you hover in space for 1 million years or so, what do you see? You see the Earth spinning slowly and maybe the odd comet and orbiting moon and not much else. So what is the point of a watch?

And when you get back on earth, depending on where you land, your watch will either be "right" or "wrong", because time as we know it is a man-made local construct, useful only for ensuring you are at your next appointment "on time". It serves no other useful purpose in the greater scheme of things.

Consider the animals, or the early neanderthals. They saw the sun rise, and they lived their lives in the daylight. And when the sun dipped below the horizon, they made a fire if it was cold, they ate and they slept. The next day, the sun appeared again, and again. And at certain periods, it was warm, and at others it was cold. And those who were suitably prepared, kept warm or cool. And those that weren't, froze to death or died in the heat. This was called "survival of the fittest" and only the fittest survived. And so "time" passed, the only mark of its passing being the periods of warmer and cooler weather, and the fact that bodies become older and sagged more and were more frail. And sooner or later, some stopped breathing while others started. The passage of life.

Time. We all have a share of it, some more than others. And the only discretion you have, is deciding what you're going to do with your allocated portion of it.

Remember the last line of the song? "The time is gone, the song is over, thought I'd something more to say". Say it, and do so wisely while you still have time.



Monday, December 24, 2012

The Pointless Politics of (Christmas) Partying

Oh wow. Are we glad we've given up on the mindless annual Christmas - thing. The months of worrying about where Christmas day celebrations will be this year and what to get so-and-so because tradition demands that we all scurry around like little lemmings with buying fever, maxing our credit in order to give out a bunch of doodads, most of which are unappreciated anyway. And if you visit the malls today, 24 December, you will find hordes of people pushing and bumping into each other, starting to look a little glazed and panicky because they are still trying to finish their Christmas shopping.

If you are one of the enlightened, you will by now know that the true meaning of Christmas has absolutely nothing to do with Christ (put Christ back into Christmas - yeah right. He was never there in the first place). And it also has nothing to do with a big fat dude called Santa Claus, who hails from Lapland and lives in a cave or somesuch. He also supposedly travels very fast - about 125000 homes per second in order to deliver all those goodies to every home in just one night. He must have permanent indigestion, eating 125000 mince pies and drinking a little over 93000 litres of beer per second. No wonder he's fat. He doesn't bother with the carrots and milk. Those go to the reindeer and down the plughole respectively. It's a time-management necessity.

It should be called Chris-myth.

But I digress.

So there we are, blinded by tradition, (un)happily mixing up a fat red and white Laplander with a skinny non-existent Palestinian who was (not) born in the middle of northern hemisphere winter or anytime else for that matter, and giving all our cash (and everybody else's cash on credit), to a bunch of mega conglomerates which control the retail market. And then we are paying our banks back at 15% the whole of next year, in what we are told is a "low inflation environment". Are we all out of our minds? I suggest we are. Most of us, at least.

So we stagger home triumphantly with our parcels which now have to be wrapped - a task that gets finished around 2am Christmas day. And while we are doing that we are multi-tasking the food in the oven which is determined to burn to a cinder everytime we take our eyes off it. Or (And) we are on the phone trying to iron out all the last minute little glitches, like the fact that Reg refuses to attend Xmas dinner because Mary will be there, or that Kate doesn't want anyone in her personal space trying to help, and doesn't really want to do too much herself either. Or that Sheila is whining (again) about the food I am making. If she doesn't like it, I urge her to stay at home and not grace us with her presence. What's that you say? It is her home - she's the hostess. Shit - why did I volunteer to prepare anything for the occasion? What about the fact that I'm totally out of freezer space? You can't get a greasy piglet into the fridge, and Jack Sprat and his noisy brat will be bringing 15 cases of beer and 300kg of meat for the braai. Shit - must still get charcoal and firelighters NOW - shops are closing in 15 minutes. HELP!

See what I mean?

And we have an ache in the pit of our stomach, from hoping that George will like the present we bought him this year (for a change), in contrast to last year's present which probably ended up in the unwanted returns queue last Dec 27th. And everyone wants bigger and more expensive. Last year I bought Keith a learjet. Now he wants a friggin' landing strip to put it down on, and didn't like it very much anyway. You see, he actually wanted a VTOL Harrier jumpjet so he could park it on his back lawn and not pay airport landing fees (he's a mean b@$tard, you see). So my humble CD that I'm giving him, is unwelcome and will be treated with active dislike and disdain. And don't get it into your head that "homemade" means anything significant to the majority of people. They just want stuff. And it better be good, expensive working stuff too. Don't give them any of your cost-saving cheap-assed home made shit. It doesn't mean a damn to them.

I forgot to mention. Everyone who is getting up everyone else's nose at this time of the year, are actually normally related to each other. They're family. Yep - you can choose your friends, but you're stuck with your family. Especially at Christmas time - the time we feel that for the sake of tradition, we just HAVE to be together.

G and I have a different view. We'd like to get together with our family whenever they want to get together with us - for no other reason that we like to be together. And if anyone in our family don't like to be with us at any other time of the year, why should they feel compelled to force a smile and do it specifically during a season which has no meaning? And when we see something we feel we'd like to give to someone in the family, we'll buy it and give it at that time. And they can too. Or not.

Christmas is indeed a special time for Children - may they continue to enjoy it, and be excited by all the fun and furore around the season of giving. And when they become adults, may they understand that because it is a season for the children, they should put away childish things and not continue to contribute to the blatant profiteering of commerce under the guise of romanticised fallacious tradition.

What are we doing tomorrow? Why, getting out of bed as normal. Around 11am I will have to get our bi-weekly irrigation water (it's the last water we'll get this season) and sometime around lunch, we'll probably fix a light salad and then watch a DVD, with some choccy for pudding, surrounded by our beloved furry and faithful companions. And sleep, like we usually do in the afternoon when we're on leave.

Are we jostling with neighbours or trying to keep a stiff upper lip in the family political party, hoping that everything we say will not be taken incorrectly, or gossiped about later? Bet your life we're not.

For us, Christmas time these days is as unstressed as most other days. And that's not going to change anytime soon.


Friday, December 21, 2012

Happy EOW

In accordance with the Ancient Mayans, (who weren't particularly successful in predicting their own demise), I would hereby like to wish you all

A VERY HAPPY END OF THE WORLD! 



I'm not sure exactly at what time this will occur, and in retrospect I possibly shouldn't have paid today for a power supply to a computer which will (possibly) not be picked up tomorrow..... (!!)

However, I leave you to savour these thoughts from the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, while you head for the closest bar (!)

" Ford", said Arthur, "would you please tell me what the hell is going on?"
"Drink up" said Ford "you've got three pints to get through"
"Three pints?" said Arthur, "at lunchtime?"
The man next to Ford grinned and nodded happily.
Ford ignored him. He said "time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so."
"Drink up"
"Why three pints all of a sudden?"
"Muscle relaxant - you'll need it"
Arthur stared into his beer
"Did I do anything wrong today," he said, "or has the world always been like this, and I've been too wrapped up in myself to notice?"
Ford gave up. It really wasn't worth bothering at the moment, what with the world being about to end. He just said :
"Drink up"
He added perfectly factually:
"The world's about to end".
Arthur gave the rest of the pub another wan smile. The rest of the pub frowned at him. 
"This must be Thursday" said Arthur to himself sinking low over his beer "I never could get the hang of Thursdays"

And with that, I leave you to go into the back garden, put my head between my legs and kiss my ass goodbye!! 

I sincerely hope the ancient Mayans are correct or the neighbours are going to wonder what the hell's going on....


!!

Sunday, December 16, 2012

I am Amos

"I am Amos, hear me snore
See me stretched out on the floor
And I'm slow - too much to try and start again
'Cause I do just what I want
I'm a Peke and I can rant
No one's ever gonna change my royal reign

(You can hum this to Helen Reddy's "I am Woman")


We are learning that Pekes NEVER do anything unless they think it's their idea - and it needs to be a truly splendid idea too.

So when it's supper time, he throws his head from side to side :

"Oh look how cute I am - I might lick a plate
 look at this Peke, I smile and I speak
Now gimme that treat! "



I made the mistake tonight of trying to take him for a (short) walk down the road, because we thought the lad might be sleeping a tad too much. Y' know "healthy mind, healthy body" - a walk a day keeps the doctor away - kind of thing.

The problem of course is that Amos' idea of going for a walk, is rushing to the side of the car and screaming for me to open the door so he can get in. Thence to be propelled in great style round the village, courtesy of the internal combustion engine....

And (naturally), he's not trained to walk on a leash. Why would he be? Nobody's ever had the temerity to try and actually make him walk - until now. So - on goes the harness (which is a wonderful adjustable contraption, orange in colour, and it gets clipped to the leash - just so.

And Amos sprints to the car. And stops dead.

" OEAGHHAGHOAAWAWWAWWAWWAW" , he intones. At full volume. And of course, the neighbouring dogs (and the neighbourhood dogs) prick up their ears and take an interest, and start barking at full volume.

But worse is to come. Hell bent on destroying what's left of my tattered reputation, I bravely cluck him into venturing outside the front gate. Wherapon he sits his backside firmly on the ground and : "WORRAWORRAWORRAWAWWAWWAW" at full volume. The next door dogs are now getting their juices nicely up and working, and are starting to rev.

So in desperation, I scoop him up and escort him to the other side of the stop street, some 50m from the front gate. Hopefully he will now breathe in the scents of evening and condescend to trot along happily in the gathering gloom (I chose gloom to make it harder for anyone to identify me).

No such luck. He has been silent under my arm, but when I put him down, its "WORRAWORRAWORRAWAWWAWWAW" again, in a rich variety of choral tones. Freely translated, it means "Oy! come and look at this bastard maltreating me. He's taking me to the Tower of London, where he will put me on the rack and stick hot pokers up my ass". And of course, unless I take action immediately, the locals are sure to stick their heads out of the windows and wonder why the guy down the road is persecuting his pets. One can never be too careful in a small village.

So I cheerfully cluck and whistle, and - surprise!  - the lad charges ahead. "Oh good", I think, "we're going to have a little fun. I'm going to stroll in a leisurely manner and Amos is going to start to take in the heady evening scents and have a little fun". And of course, I'm wrong. He charges two metres and stops dead. Then ducks his head down and buries it in the dirt on the side of the road, apparently trying to emulate some sort of digging machine. And this process is repeated a couple of times.



(I would like to mention here that I worked quite hard this morning in very sweaty conditions to wash and groom the boy, so I'm not altogether enchanted with the prospect of our pet grinding the top of his skull through the substrate, en route to some nether region several hundred meters below ground level). But what the hell do I matter?

He then adds insult to injury by coughing up a lungful of foam, just to show me how little he is enjoying this walk. So I give up. I pick him up under one arm, and peace is restored immediately. As I walk the 100m or so back home, I have to endure the local youths "Hey mister, that's a nice dog". "Yes he is", I reply through gritted teeth.

"What sort of dog is he?"
"He's a Pekingese", I reply, trying not to burst into tears.

And the moment I open the gate, and slide the reluctant lad into the property, removing his harness and leash? He bounds forth, wagging furiously. Can't wait to get back inside.

Sigh. At least I now know. No pleasant walks with camera in hand, ambling along while Amos enjoys his surroundings. I'll have to go on my own.


He's getting as much exercise as he wants, in the back garden....

Thursday, December 13, 2012

Superdick

It's a joke! I'm talking about Italian politics.

I never have the need to watch comedies anymore - I get my jollies from watching BBC, CNN and Sky. I never bother to watch (South African) SABC or ETV - that's just gossip for brain dead idiots. But some of the items on the overseas channels are laugh-a-minute stuff.

Take for example the latest Italian soap-opera. I'm talking about the off-again on-again Berlusconi power grab. If you've been watching, you will know that Italian PM not-so "super" Mario Monti is throwing in the towel after only a few months and has opened the way for the ever-hungry Silvio Berlusconi to march in and take over the top job (again)....(sigh)

And now tonight on CNN we are informed that Mr B is urging Super Mario to take back the big job again. Give me a major break. I can't wait for the next episode where we find out who shot JR. Sorry! That's been done already, hasn't it?  Well - perhaps we'll be shown the inside of husky Matilda Tritt's inner thighs where we find the address and phone number of a Belgian belly dancer.

Forget the fact that Uncle Silvio appears to be almost universally viewed as bad news, or (to be less indelicate) lacking in credibility. Forget the fact that (amongst other things) he has an outstanding court conviction for romping around au-naturel with an underage minor and doing all the things we might expect in such moments of passion.  And definitely forget all the other nonsense he has been involved with.

See : Naughty Silvio for just a taste.

He's 76 for god's sake. Superdick. And that's not short for detective.

The funniest thing though is that the Italians might just be prepared to have him back as the PM. I swear those Euros deserve everything they get. I mean - how thick do you have to be, to vote a paedophilic philandering felon (I like alliteration) back into office?

Just shows - you get as much shit as you are prepared to put up with. No wonder the world in general and the Eurozone in particular is a shambles.

Yesterday I felt sorry for Europeans. Tonight I'm not so sure. I was starting to get defensive about LaGarde's manouvering to keep the Italians in financial shackles for the term of their natural lives. Now I think if they're that stupid, they deserve everything they get.

Can't wait to hear about a new bailout for Italy in some not too distant CNN broadcast....

Friday, December 7, 2012

O Come Mall : The Faithful

Humour me - I'm feeling frivolous. And festive.

So - in the spirit of the nonexistent Jesus, god (small g) et al, I dedicate this to the Gods (big G - they make the world go round) of the 20th and 21st century commercialism, after whom this season is derived and the stupidity of those who persist in believing in ghosts and apparitions.

All together now - and don't waver on those high notes :

"Oh come mall the faithful
Edgars and the water bars
Woolworths and Checkers and the fine clothing stores
Come and be merry
Spend your cash entirely

O come and park in safety
O come and spend so hastily
O come and max your credit cards
Until the new year

Oh spend, throngs of housewives
Spend on sets of kitchen knives
Or spend it on furniture or home decor
Spend it - O spend it
We care not what you buy with it

(softly)
But spend with cash or credit
O spend and don't regard the debt
You'll get 3 months to pay
And then you'll regret it !

All hail god of finance
We greet thee with our bank advance
Born of debt and overdraft
You name is adored!
Buy now pay later
The bills are soon appearing

(softly)
But keep the money flowing
O keep the credit growing
And keep the masses from knowing
That the crunch is near!

Ah - men!

Saturday, December 1, 2012

You're the Next Indian

Remember Nelson Mandela?

Well - South Africa and the world cannot forget him - the man came out of 30 years of imprisonment to lead the country to freedom, and it's a debt nobody should forget too soon.

But this post is not about Nelson Mandela. It's about Leonard Peltier and the plight of the Native American Indian - a race which were systematically exterminated and victimised by the American governments of the day - right up to the present time.

And whereas Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for something he actually did, Leonard Peltier was imprisoned for something he didn't do, on the flimsiest contrived evidence - hearsay from an "eyewitness" who wasn't even on the scene at the time. But it was a convenient excuse to get one of the key leaders of the Native American Indian movement out of the way - and it's been 37 years already and there is no end in sight. If the US government gets its way, Peltier will die in jail. He's scheduled for release in 2040 - if he doesn't get paroled at his next hearing in 2024. Can the Americans bear it?

There we have them - a supreme example of the biggest hypocrites on Earth. The US government boycotting  South Africa for release of one of our leaders, while ignoring the shameful and wrongful imprisonment of one of their own. A man whom they fear, because they know he'll be a rallying point for the Native American peoples. A trial that was criticised by amnesty International in the 2010 report - the Peltier case has been placed on its unfair trials list.

A nation which proclaims their "freedom" while enslaving their people under repressive security legislation, enacted without due force of law to "protect them" from the scourge of "terrorism", following an act of terror carried out with the collusion and cooperation of the US government itself. I speak of 911.

THE LAND OF THE FREE! Oh yes? The land of the Nazi police state more like.

Hypocrites! The US who proclaim freedom, yet try to block the passage of recognition of the Palestinian people in the UN - people who like the Native American Indians were in their true homeland before the "settlers" arrived and settled them out of it. How did the Native American Indians go from being the majority to the tiniest minority?

South Africa imprisoned and exiled its majority. America killed theirs.

Listen to the words of this, and reflect. Wake up otherwise you will be the next Indian.

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Introverts Bite Back!

Ah! The much- maligned and misunderstood Introvert. The modern world doesn't understand introverts (or doesn't want to), because the marketing message being drummed into everyone's heads all the time is that extrovert = good, introvert = bad.

Take a look at all the dumb ads on TV these days. Hennessy and parties. Miller Lite and parties. Peter Stuyvesant and girls and skiing and parties (if one actually sees a tobacco ad these days - which is rare). Booze - any booze - girls and parties. And parties and parties and girls and parties. Get the picture?

And everyone - I said EVERYONE is having a great old time. All boozing and jumping and sunning themselves on luxury yachts and smiling like idiots who have been infected with tetanus.

The problem is, there are approximately 50% of the world's population who are introverts. They're not partying. They're thinking. And they're thinking some serious thoughts. The artists, scientists, mathematicians, some politicians = mostly introverts. And a good thing too - somebody has to think in this rather superficial, apparently fairly brainless, impulsive world full of rabid consumers.

G is an introvert - almost completely 100%. But she has some real, genuine luminaries in her list of fellow introverts. Makes my list look a little tired and has-been. I'm jealous.

So - in tribute to all the introverts out there, this wonderful little thought:



Now there's a thought!

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Cummonamos and Other Stories

Ok - so we ended up getting another dog. That makes 2, which is hardly overwhelming. Plus the cats, which is um ah... still quite manageable - as long as everyone minds their P's and Q's.


Amos is a Peke, and Amos is a rescue dog. And Amos is now OURS - and we love him to bits. He was found trotting down the road in a dishevelled condition en-route to the freeway whereupon he would have been run over, or grabbed by a member of the (sub-economic) township through which he was travelling and transformed into a mange-ridden township dog.

But he wasn't - he was spotted and taken into care by a member of the local animal welfare (good for them - I wish the animal fancies would put their money and time where their hypocritical mouths are, and devote both to assisting animal rescue in our country-but they don't, of course  - it's left to the tireless and underfunded volunteers whose heart is bigger than their wallets but who will never stop in their quest to alleviate animal suffering. I don't know what we'd do without them).

Anyway- although rather grubby and a bit stinky at present - he is in one piece and a wonderful placid boy he is. As soon as his stitches from his neuter operation are removed, he will be bathed and the stinky will be but a distant memory....



Why Amos? Because he sticks like glue to us (Amos is a local brand of adhesives). The fact that we decided to get another dog as a companion for our ageing but sprightly crossbreed dog, is of course, entirely irrelevant to Amos. He, like most Pekes, is a mixture of human, cat and dog. And Amos regards himself as human first and foremost, and dog a very sorry second (or third, perhaps).

Ho no! Not a "dog" at all. Amos is a human, who lies on his back right next to the water dish and enjoys having his tummy rubbed (and caressed by the breeze). The matting round the ears and underarms/legs and around the bum necessitated a shave, and we broadened this to the entire stomach area - for which we are being thanked by his obvious enjoyment of lying around on his back with his legs in the air - fast asleep, of course.

When we arrived, he had an earset like an Alsatian - courtesy of the tennis ball sized mats behind and below each ear. Thank goodness for no.7 skip-tooth blades.....At the end of it, he could flap his ears around like the best of them!

- He rarely barks - there's no point - everything is to his liking, so why complain?
- He chats a bit - mainly to G and never to me. Consists of long loudish vowel sounds, like this : OOEEEAAAAAHH, EEEEEOOAAAAHHAAEEA (get the picture)? You can practice the same effect in front of your bathroom mirror before bed.  Fill mouth with potent breath freshener - so. Tilt head back 40 degrees, and just when you feel like you are about to drown, blow melodiously through the back of the throat and up through the enveloping liquid, in loud stentorious tones : AAAAAAAAAOOOGGHHHAAH. Try it in ascending notes to get the full rich effect. Try not to inhale during this process - it might be a little ....shall we say...unfortunate. But Amos has it down to a T.
- He has absolutely no recognition of other dogs. How could he? He's human, after all. Amos would never condescend to be a mere dog. Ugh!

But what of poor old Sparkie, the ageing crossbreed, in whose name Amos ultimately arrived? Have you ever noticed that just when you think your animals are going to react in a particular manner, they always surprise you and do exactly the opposite to what you expect? So it was yesterday with the regal arrival of Amos. "I can't wait to see how they get on together - wheeee!!!"

Yeah - right. Sparkie and Amos exchanged anal greetings (the normal type of dog thing) and then proceeded to ignore each other completely. "That's not a dog" "I don't know you".  At the very least I might have expected something like:

"Holy shit. A dog. What the @*ck is a dog doing in my backyard? Who put it here, and when will it be leaving?"

What we got was "Ho hum. a dog. hopefully it will be like the others that sometimes come here for some R&R and then bugger off after a week or so. zzzzzz".

And from Amos' side we got "hmmm - interesting. If in fact anyone is interested in a dog. I'm not. Time to get back inside. Sleep calls"



And of course, like all Pekes, he has to think everything is his idea, before he condescends to pay any attention. Otherwise all entreaties will fall on deaf ears. Like "c'mon Amos - let's go - c'mon c'mon!!" whistle whistle. Which is met by an interested stare from under the mop and the lad then sinks gratefully onto the ground for another 40 winks. Pffffh.


And what do the cats think? Ow! They know a dog when they see one - even one with as regal a bearing and placid exterior as Amos. Scatter unto the four winds! Some of them did indeed scatter, and a few didn't. One of the lads is as laid-back as they come and didn't give a tinker's cuss. A few give him a wide berth for now - just in case. And a couple are feeding on the window sills because they don't want to set foot in case the dreaded hairy monster sets upon them and attacks like a rabid vampire. But they'll get over it - time heals many wounds, and indignities, like bringing another dog into the household.



List of Amos doggie to do's: 

- Amos not chase the cats
- Amos not schnapp when they schniff me
- Amos take a bath one of these days
- Amos not eat the kittyfood

He's the model of modern respectability. I suppose we need someone in the household who is.



Thursday, November 1, 2012

DEBT Recovery 101

I have the occasional flash of humour that flows into my pen, and I was thinking about an issue I came across with a client who got hung out ot dry with an unscrupulous non-payer. Y'know - the type of person / business who drags out payment with all sorts of smarmy nonsense excuses like:

"I went to pay you, but your dog ate the cash, before I could get to your front door"   or
"I have paid - I did the bank transfer yesterday" (but of course they haven't) or possibly
"I have been meaning to pay you but I first HAVE to get a misunderstanding sorted out with one of your incorrect bills, before I do so"  (thus blaming you for not being paid)

Today, I devised a little note to send to a (former) debtor, when you have finally wrung some money out of them, threatening them with a fate worse than death if they didn't comply :


"Gawrsh! Payment!!

"Dear ex-Debtor

Thank you so much for actually paying me recently. It's such a pity I have to get all grindy with the teeth and shout and scream to get money out of you. But then again, it wasn't actually ME shouting and screaming at you. It was another guy who really (I said REALLY) has a fkucing short fuse.

He's the guy I buy my ink cartridges from, and unlike me, he's not at all nice and patient when it comes to getting cash out of people. In fact he's a right BASTARD (in mile high capitals). He smiles a lot, but is known to resort to extreme violence when provoked. So you don't want to get him angry.

Which reminds me - I'm about to send off some more goodies for you. It may be nice if you pay promptly, because I need to buy ink from him, and I'd HATE to have to make him angry with you so soon after the last time. He's got google street view, you know. He's been having a squizz at the front of your home, as well as the shop. I sort of think of him as "my little birdie"......

Yours uncompromisingly,

Ms Ex - Creditor



I was extremely tickled to get the following response from the unfortunate person who was being hung out to dry :

Thank god I don't have a lap top

because I just spat a mouthful of tea onto the keyboard.
this is delicious.
I wish I could send it.

This letter should grace the pages of mad magazine.
you would be their prize writer.



And now that I've blogged it, both she, and you dear reader, should feel happy to use it - you got it off the internet in the public domain, after all! Enjoy - may your recovery from debt, and of your debt be painless and carefree...


Tuesday, October 16, 2012

The Elegant Simplicity of Death

No, I'm not considering shuffling off this mortal coil anytime soon. And I'm not sitting here in a macabre haze of depressed thoughts, contemplating my own demise.

But what I was thinking about was something that bothered me intensely, before I discovered the wonderful world of atheism. And that was this issue around where I was going to spend eternity - specifically, those people I was condemned to spend it with.

I mean - imagine spending eternity with a bunch of flaky, ignorant gits with an average IQ of 50 or lower? You know - the type you find chanting to Jesus on a Sunday morning / Wednesday night at home cell meetings - etc. Duh! Jesus gonna come take me outta dis mess. Yeah - right. And in this place, we find Catholic child molesters (who are forgiven by Jesus), my gaslighting holier-than-thou extended family who lie through their teeth and don't confront their very real wrongdoings - but hide behind Jesus; sundry priests, bishops and the cash-extorting televangelist crew who will sell your mother for sixpence. Not a bunch I'd like to be confined with for eternity - thank you very much.

And the singing! Errgghh!! As someone who has been involved to an extent in the music business, I am profoundly irritated by those who consistently mangle music. "And let's repeat (for the 45th time) the chorus, shall we - 3 semitones and a bum note below where it should be?" Rather not. Let's get a life and move on. Could I possibly stand to spend eternity with this, in heaven? 'Onward Christian soldiers, marching off to war.." Nope. Not a chance.

So let's switch to the other side of the equation, and in hell we find.....Hitler, Stalin, my gaslighting narcissist lying extended family's alter-ego (the split personality part that didn't get to repent in time), sundry politicians, estate agents and used car salesmen, as well as mass murderers (those who didn't repent on death row), thieves and rapists. Brrrr!! Not my kind of company, thank you!

But thank goodness - evolution and science to the rescue! (I nearly said "thank god". Need to think up some new expressions, now that god is a spent force).

Guess what - we get to spend eternity...... on our own. rotting away in the ground, if we're buried or flying in the breeze if we're cremated! And there's not too much wrong with that! Don't have to spend my dead days fending off a bunch of christian creeps or murderers.

PS- better get used to being an introvert! The worst I can think of is the Christian extrovert who gets to find out (too late) that he's spending eternity on his own!!! Whheeeeee!!!! (heh heh)!

Friday, October 5, 2012

Atheist Prayer

Let us take responsibility for our own actions, inactions, strengths and frailties
And not project them onto ghosts, spirits, stars, portents and gods unseen
Let us have the courage to accept that one person's faith
Is another person's bloody-minded pigheaded refusal to accept the obvious

Let us have the courage to accept that the person at the front of all crowds
Including this one, doesn't know all the answers

Let us have the wisdom to accept that if our ancestors had fared differently in wars,
Our communities would be holding different absurdities up as sacred truths
And the willingness to accept these absurdities would be seen as the badge
Of social trustworthiness - or even the right to be allowed to draw breath

Let us accept that the difference between a prophet and a madman is not what they say,
But whether the crowd accepts the story and tells their children to believe it

Let us have the courage to accept that wanting to believe in something with every fibre
of our being does not, and cannot, make it true

Truth needs no help, no believers, no bowed heads and no amens.


- Martin Willet -

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Governmentium

I thought this was worth repeating in a blog!

The CSIR has discovered the heaviest element yet known to science. The new element is Governmentium (Gv). It has one neutron, 35 assistant neutrons, 88 deputy neutrons and 198 assistant deputy neutrons, giving it an atomic mass of 312.

These 312 particles are held together by forces called morons, which are surrounded by vast quantities of lefton-like particles called peons.

Since Governmentium has no electrons or protons, it is inert. However, it can be detected, because it impedes every reaction with which it comes into contact.

A tiny amount of Governmentium can cause a reaction normally taking less than a second to take from four days to four years to complete. Governmentium has a normal half-life of 2- 6 years. It does not decay but instead undergoes a reorganisation in which a portion of the assistant neutrons and deputy neutrons exchange places.

In fact, Governmentium's mass will actually increase over time, since each reorganisation will cause more morons to become neutrons, forming isodopes.

This characteristic of moron promotion leads some scientists to believe that Governmentium is formed whenever morons reach a critical concentration. This hypothetical quantity is referred to as critical morass.

When catalysed with money, Governmentium becomes Administratium, an element that radiates just as much energy as Governmentium since it has half as many peons but twice as many morons.

All of the money is consumed in the exchange, and no other byproducts are produced.

Sunday, September 16, 2012

Ride to Nowhere

It's the name of a mountain bike race. I like it - but if it were strictly accurate, I guess it might be called "The Ride around nowhere".

You see, many more enlightened folk have given up the stressed, humdrum, over-hyped 9-5 mad rush of the cities, for a more elegant genteel living in this place I like to think of as "nowhere". Others have retired here and are living what I fondly think of as "life no.2". And latterly, the mountain biking fraternity have discovered the joys of McGregor, finding it to be a wondrous place to get out into nature, with wonderful. happy, hospitable people.


Hmmm  free range eggs, bacon, rolls, pancakes. If you have to eat eggs, make them free range!

And so this weekend was "the ride to nowhere". And once they had ridden to nowhere in their cars, they rode around nowhere on their bikes - and loved it.
First Ladies Arrive
Overall Race Winner (First Man Home)

We love nowhere - it has no traffic lights and many houses have no street numbers. I take savage pleasure in telling the cellphone companies that they're just going to have to accept my address without a street number for RICA purposes - tough luck, but there you are - there ain't no street number, so get used to it. Many of the roads aren't even tarred. And on the other side of the village, there is a dirt road which heads 8km into the mountains - and then stops. Sometime around 1957, there was an attempt to extend the route across the mountain to Greyton. Then they ran out of money, and that's where it ended - dead end, sheer drop 300ft straight down into the gorge. I love it  - I'm glad they went bust.  I can't think of anything worse than having 2000 cars an hour haring through McGregor en route to the Southern Cape coast via Greyton. One of our less intelligent bozo local would-be politicians (aren't they all less intelligent?) had an election manifesto that if he got into office, he would extend the road and open a Kentucky Fried Chicken in the middle of the village to lure passing motorists. Idiot.

The charm of the place is its unspoiled beauty, its silence (when the locals are not having an "opskop" in the "oudorp" - but that's not a big issue), and its proximity to nature. A place where you can hear yourself think. I can't imagine living close to a plethora of articulated trucks and cars whizzing by. If we wanted that, we'd have moved to any of the large South African cities. And if you happen to have been born here, and think the answer is in great wealth and power. It isn't - but if you think it is - go to Johannesburg, do not pass "Go", do not collect R200.

And so they came, and rode, and enjoyed, and everyone seems to have had a good time. Come anytime. Enjoy. Leave your wallet. And then please go and leave us to the silence. We can't have "Joburg by the mountains", can we?


Friday, September 14, 2012

Letters From Earth

I was poring through the internet the other day and stumbled across one of Mark Twain's (Samuel Clements) writings - Letters From Earth, originally written in 1909. It's a relatively short piece and I enjoyed it immensely.

Effectively, what Charles Darwin and latterly people like Dan Dennett, Christopher Hichens, Richard Dawkins etc. have done to develop our knowledge of evolutionary biology, and in the process expose the myth of religion,  Mark Twain did brilliantly with this piece in the early 20th century. He adopts a stance of belief in the bible, exactly as it is written - and then goes on to satirically demonstrate the ridiculousness of the proposition that the bible as a work can be taken with anything other than a giant grain of salt - purely because believing it literally, just produces so many outrageous conclusions.

As one reader put it :  "Dripping with sarcasm about religion, it would make Christopher Hitchens proud. Although, Mark Twain was much less rude than Hitchens, I suspect that Hitchens enjoyed this book as much as I did..."

I expect that if the average bible-believing reader applied their minds critically to the texts they were reading, they might themselves start to see that all wasn't kosher in the (Un)holy lands of yore, or the text that purports to be a god-inspired true account thereof. But that would mean there would be considerably fewer bible-believing readers, wouldn't it? Maybe that's not a bad thing.....

I wonder if it might be possible to convince any of them to actually read this text and give it some thought?

Ta-Ra! Fanfare of trumpets from the heavenly host! Enjoy Letters From the Earth

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Another 911 Rolls By

Time flies - mostly when you're having fun, but even if you're not.

And for many American families, they have not had a lot of fun over the past 11 years, remembering the loss of their loved ones on this particular day.

And sadly, they console themselves with seeking out a guilty party, somewhere in the hot and dusty reaches of the Middle Eastern states, while their nation wages an unremitting "War on Terror" which seems to have no end - or more pessimistically - will end only once the US has achieved its objectives. These objectives seem to imply exerting control over every Middle Eastern state, either directly through military means, or indirectly through establishing "friendly" governments who can be relied upon to toe the American line.

Whereas, all indications are from a growing host of professional experts both in the US and abroad, that the whole 911 theatre (that's what it was - tragic theatre), was orchestrated by the then US government and it's security agencies in conjunction with Mossad, and is of course being used ongoing by the current administration to achieve its international objectives.

There are just too many pieces of the puzzle that don't fit the official "explanation" - or more accurately, do entirely uphold what is not longer a theory but more of an accurate assertion that the US government "done it". There is just too much corroborating evidence pointing at the White House and its security agencies as needing "a 2nd Pearl Harbour" (their statement, not mine) to motivate public opinion to support an American assault on the Middle East.

Incidentally, I'm amused at the definition of 911 Conspiracy : " 9/11 conspiracy theories are conspiracy theories that disagree with the widely accepted account that the September 11 attacks were perpetrated solely by ..bla bla etc". 

I think the more widely accepted facts these days are that the official explanation is too implausible to be believed and that all the facts support a government cover up and complicity in orchestration.).

How short our memories are : the assassination of JFK was "perpetrated solely by" ....Lee Harvey Oswald - except that none of the forensic evidence that hadn't been destroyed upheld the government account, and the bullet-riddled street signs in downtown Dallas were expeditiously removed ASAP by the cleanup teams soon after. And in 1985 (/6 ?) a US court upheld a verdict that the CIA was instrumental in the death of JFK. 

And lest we forget the assassination of Martin Luther King Jnr which was "perpetrated solely by" ...James Earl Rey - who died in prison. Even though the ballistics from the weapon he was purported to have used, didn't match the slug taken from the victim. Nor that it was impossible for him to finish the hit, conceal the weapon and get from his upstairs room down to the outside lobby where his belongings had been carefully left to be discovered, in the time available. Or that the tree growing outside the window where he is supposed to have fired the fatal shot, was so positioned that it would have been almost impossible for it to have succeeded. No matter! Name and blame and stick to the tale through thick and thin and the problem will go away!

Easier than admitting the CIA/FBI and government security arm did this, that, and all the rest of it. Why, they'd all lose their jobs and go to jail, and the US would fail in their bid to dominate the world - we can't have that, can we?

The facts are easy to find, as are the experts. There are dozens of sites. No excuse. Start with these links and follow the trail, if you have the courage and conviction to examine the evidence in an unbiased fashion.

www.911proof
911 Archive
Architects & Engineers for 911 Truth
Pilots for 911 truth

And have a look at the following,  by Dr Paul Craig Roberts a former Assistant Secretary of the Treasury, for Economic Policy
911 : Doubts Were Immediate

I sincerely hope the broad based American people will one day rise up en masse and demand that their government come clean, and thereby lay the ghosts of the past finally to rest. The survivors deserve no less.


Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Open Letter to DSTV

OK OK - I'm always grinding my teeth about the bollocks they dish (pun intended) up on DSTV, and how they never get tired of telling us how wonderful they are. 

So finally, I'm doing something about it. In response to (another) stupid mail from DSTV / Multichoice telling us all the wonderful things they're doing, monkeying about with the channels, they're introducing more new channels - for premium DSTV subscribers only (of course). So - I gave my teeth an extra grind, and this is what I came up with. Feel free to clap and add your voice in acclaiming the stupidity and greed of DSTV.

(Come to think of it, it's a wonderful misnomer : "multichoice". Should be "Hobson's choice")

I've blanked the expletives to protect those of tender disposition who read my blogs (not that anyone who likes to read my blogs, should have a tender disposition of course, but one never knows)


Dear Collins 

What a ridiculous f*** nut you are, and what a stupid f***ing organisation you work for. And the most stupid of all are the bloody silly DSTV clients who continually seem to support you, by ogling blankly at the 55th rerun of the same f**king dumb movie  /repeated documentary (instead of showing some of the many others available) / repeated sitcom ad-nauseam (like "all in the family" which, I grant you, is only about 32 years old) / repeated "best of the week" (what a joke) which you use as an excuse to fill up weekend screening with repeats /repeated this, repeated that, repeated repeats phu*k it. Silent f.

Get a grip - you lot are a sad excuse for "entertainment". The only reason I have a dish is because the bloody reception is so poor in this part of the country that in order to see anything at all, it has to be via satellite - even sad little SABC TV (which I actually think is one and the same as DSTV - they have all the hallmarks of being the same organisation with the same dumb reruns). 

We started with DSTV premium. Then when we found it to be nothing more than endless crap. Like "Have a look up Pam Anderson's ass on "E" for entertainment, or maybe Zone reality let-me-examine-your-bowel-movements at the spa of embarrassing diseases - or maybe "my life as a drain unblocker" or whatever you f*#king call it), or other crap like American Pie 643 (the other 642 preceding it were crap too), or Aw Shit it's f*#king Schuster (again), or There's yet Another f*#king Zulu on my stoep for the 55th time who doesn't want to go away and thinks he has squatting rights, or "I still think I know you think I know I know I know what you think you know I did last summer" (you don't actually have a clue what I did last summer, but there's no convincing you that you don't, you clueless dumb shit), or crap like Muhummad Ali beats the shit out of George Foreman (again) in Zaire on your apologetic "call back the past" sport channel, or strongest man from 1953 held in outer Mongolia. Or maybe crap like a whole f#*king month of the goddam Tour de France (haven't you worked it out yet - watching bike riding is oh-so- boring, like watching paint dry. They all diddle around playing follow my leader for 273 miles and then sprint like hell in the last 150 yards. Gimme strength. And your documentaries are a yawn. We saw all of them in the first 6 months that we were premium subscribers, and the we started saying "didn't we see this before?"  - and we were right - we had. There are a zillion great doccies out there, if you bunch of clueless ar$eholes weren't such tightwad shitheads, being too mean to actually buy some decent programming. The $ sign is subliminal - I'm hoping against hope you get the message...

And then you spend hours showing us these ditzy stupid DSTV commercials - one after the other, telling us how fv<cking wonderful you are with A to Z's to try and make us believe you. Purely in the interest of brevity, I enjoy watching the stupid DSTV commercials once (note : ONCE), because they essentially take the best moments (there are very few best moments) in the last 10 years'  entertainment and cram them into 1 min 15 seconds. I therefore no longer need to watch the programs, because I've seen the good bits already. 

Here's an A to Z for your next advert 

A   Arseholes i.e all the DSTV viewers who support you arseholes
B   Bullshit which we dish up to you, the viewer
C   Crap - all of us at Multichoice and DSTV who take your hard earned cash in exchange for this. 
D   Dud Decoders which need daily resetting. Shit, just like the stuff we show you through them
E   Entertainment? Not really - More like Excrement. Or Extortion
F   Free to air - which never is on DSTV. Free = worthless, but even your worthless isn't free.
G  Gullible viewers
H  Hollywood channels you pay for on demand, instead of DSTV showing you for the money you already paid
I    Irritating - very irritating 
J   Joke. It's on DSTV - and the idiots who keep on paying you over and over and over and...geddit?
K  Knuckleheaded viewers.
L   Liars at DSTV who don't listen to the knuckleheaded viewers
M  Moronic programming
N   N is for Nothing (as usual) to watch on DSTV 
O  Oh god. Another evening of nothing to watch on DSTV. Alternatively 0 (ZERO - zilch)
P  Pay again please!
Q  Queriable Qontent  
R  Repeats - lots of them. I said REPEATS   A.K.A.  R is for Rip out what's left of my hair
S  Subscriptions which we'd like you to pay. See P
T  Twats - DSTV viewers - See A
U  Unfairly profiting from moronic viewers who put up with your shit
V  Very Irritating. Oh - I said Irritating under I didn't I? Irritating Irritating
W Waste of time watching
X   Xtra time available by not watching 
Y  ? Good question. Y exactly?
Z   ZZzzzzzz which is what DSTV makes me do


And then we have the latest stupid competition, apparently paid heed to by aforementioned dumbass DSTV viewers who actually think DSTV is great. You can see the Khumalos from Khatlehong or the Mbizi's from Maritzborough (or some other nameless git who I can never contact to find out if they actually exist and if they really did win a prize or not). Maybe it's all just fraud on your part? Instead of the promised prizes, why not spend some cash on programming?   

So - we then got rid of the premium subscription, because DSTV didn't get the point that if I pay them twice, I should not have to watch the same content twice - I should be able to watch new stuff the first time, and then get something new to watch second time etc. I mean, how would you like me to send you photocopies of my original monthly cheque payment, on the grounds that I'm sending a repeat copy of a payment in exchange for you showing repeat copies of something I've seen? Why pay you with more original hard earned cash, if you're not going to spend any of it on some new original viewing? 

So I downgrade to some other smaller amount monthly (approx R149 or whatever), and what do I get for it? Fv>k all, that's what. The Sky news channel is OK - the FIRST TIME each day. After that the news is continual rerun of the first lot of news - they must have been taking lessons from DSTV/Multichoice or whatever you call yourselves. The rest of the news is much the same, but for light relief we could watch Chinese news - but why would we want to? What's the point? F%#kall sport - that's reserved for those who you are ripping off to the hilt. On Sport 3 if you're a dumbf**k who pays mindlessly you can see nosepicking and flicking contests, or maybe even worse , the 17th different premier league football match of the day- or maybe italian league or brazilian league or whatever f#^king league you're trying to shove down our throats. What's the point of being a premium subscriber?  

What else f@*kall do we get for our money? Ah yes - I notice every really popular series got removed from MNET series so we can't watch it on our reduced package- like American idol or America's got talent, or the Apprentice or the boyfriend or whatever it was called. And what do we get in it's place? Dreck - designed to make us wish we had the premium version. I don't think so - we had it, remember? And we discovered that once you get over the hype, there's nothing to watch - the decent things we've seen and new decent things don't come on very often - but you can see the original stuff spiralling through the different channels as time passes. Yawn. Back to the umpteenth Net Geo Aircrash investigation repeat. Why have 70 (or 700, or 7000) channels, if 6999 of them are showing what used to be on the first channel 20 years ago - and at least 2000 of them are showing what was on the 1st channel last week/  month/ year / fill in time interval as appropriate ?

And then you have the temerity to send me some bullshit about your channel reshuffles and "extra" channels you're putting in for premium viewers. You have got to be out of your tiny, tiny mind. 

Now, how about pi$$ing off before I really lose my temper? Or better still, sod off to America's Hardest Prisons, since you seem to think they're so great.

yours uncordially etc.

Saturday, August 11, 2012

Moronic Presidential Hopeful!

Hmm - Freudian slip perhaps? Well - maybe, but on 2nd thoughts the genius Romney just keeps on making gaffes. I had wanted to title this blog "mor(m)onic Presidential hopeful, but on reflection, moronic seems to just hit the spot.

G asked me : "why does he want to be the president anyway? I'm sure he'll just be another figurehead". She's quite right of course. He doesn't have the smarts to lead from the front, but I'm sure the administration will provide him with a brains trust to make decisions for him.

Maybe when he was a child, he was asked what he wanted to be when he grew up. And instead of becoming a fireman or maybe a garbage collector which is much more in his cerebral league, he decided to be the President of the USA. Come to think of it, I have a pretty good idea that if the legendary frontally lobotomised George Dubya Bush lasted 2 terms of office, it can't be a very demanding job when it comes to using your brain.

I mean c'mon - Romney clearly has absolutely no general knowledge at all : he opens his big flappy trap and inserts both left feet - perpetually. I wish they'd leave him to choke on his feet, and get done with it. Sheik temple instead of Sikh temple? If he actually knew anything about Indian religions (and we'd hope that somebody who presumed to become the most powerful leader in the Western world would actually know something outside of his own country- or even his own state), he would know that the Sikhs follow a religion founded in the 15th century in the Punjab region.

He introduces his presidential compaign running mate Paul Ryan as "the next president of the United States". Probably the best thing he could do, would be to stand aside and let someone with a brain go for the presidential top job. But that's not what he meant. In fact he didn't mean anything - he just freewheeled the brain and left the gob to flap away by itself. Which is very dangerous when you're in the highest profile job in the world.

By the way - be afraid of Paul Ryan - be very afraid. He's very intelligent - and a flip-flopper with the best of the political chameleons in order to stay ahead. He's also the author of the GOP. Here's a synopsis from a blogger :

American people don't know much about Ryan. When they discover what he stands for, they will decide who they will vote for.Ryan is the architect of radical right wing . His budget calls for
-- huge new tax cuts for the super rich on top of the Bush tax cuts
-- turning medicare into a voucher program
-- massive cuts to vital programs like medicaid, food stamps, pell grants & job training
-- new increases in military spending
Ryan is the author of everything the left has been fighting against in Washington since the repub took control of the house in 2010
Romney/Ryan ticket is a frightening prospect for the middle class and anyone who might need medicare or social security
By chosing Ryan, Romney doubled down on his commitment to take our country back to the failed policies of the past that got us to the mess.

If your like that picture go ahead vote republican


Consider the following link, where you can spend a few moments pondering these dumb Mitt Romney quotes. Look at the bonus section too.
http://politicalhumor.about.com/od/mittromney/a/Mitt-Romney-Quotes.htm

(I'm particularly incensed that he should DARE to be defensive to PETA criticism about popping his dog in a carrier on top of his roof rack and taking it for a twelve hour trip - and then say "my dog likes fresh air". A total Arsehole - with a huge capital A.

More ominously, he comes across as an insensitive, arrogant wise-arse who thinks his money allows him to say and do anything. He doesn't care - or have to care - about who he offends in the process of aerating his vocal chords. No forethought, no engagement and consideration beforehand - just open handbag mouth and vent. Or maybe he should rather fart - it sounds nicer than his mindless babble, and makes as much sense.

Then maybe you might wonder whether there is anything in the Romney head at all. It's a wonder he managed to get 2 Harvard degrees and a Brigham Young degree - although in all fairness, the latter was a BA, which doesn't count for much. And the Harvard degree was a joint Juris doctor/ MBA (master of bugger-all) - some of the biggest smooth talking management consultant dummies have MBA's. But he actually did really well, and at least at that time of his life, seemed to be quite bright.

I wonder if he's suffering from some advancing degenerative brain condition? Like Creutzfeldt-Jakob perhaps (the human counterpart of BSE - bovine spongiform encephalopathy - mad cow disease). Maybe he's been consuming too many of those offal-filled burgers and picked up an infective prion particle from a cow. It's really quite a conundrum - I would have thought that someone with his track record would be carefully considering his words before opening his mouth, but obviously the effect of his words do not give him pause for thought.

And his Mormonism is the most telling indication that in his heart of hearts (or should that be "heart of minds"?), he's a dummy. A fifth generation mormon - or should that be "moron"? I mean, here's the prospective next President of the US and he believes in the teachings of a man who claims to have dug up a bunch of gold plates, and translated them into the Book of Mormon and conveniently forgets what happened to them. Not only do they believe all the biblical crap, lock stock and barrel, but they believe a far-fetched aberrant offshoot of it. And their founder is a felon. Sod the truth - we'll believe the crap. It takes a special kind of uber-thick denial to be a fifth generation follower of that type of nonsense.

The real eye-opener is that this guy has a serious chance of actually becoming the next President. If he does, the Americans then have got what they deserved - because only a nation of idiots could put that into the White house. Makes "Dubya" look like a genius.

Postscript : having just watched Sky news newspaper reviews tonight... the world is laughing at this buffoon. And as G notes - he doesn't care - because he's busy playing the game. Nothing is registering - no synapses are firing. The lights are on, but nobody is at home. The only objective is the lust for illusory power of being in the White House. And when he gets there, he will smile like an idiot at the cameras and read from his prepared speaker notes and act as the directors of the play have decided he should do. We need idiots. Thinking presidents that buck the establishment get assassinated.

Monday, June 25, 2012

Tax Man

                                                       


Let me tell you how it will be,
There’s one for you, nineteen for me,
‘Cause I’m the Taxman,
Yeah, I’m the Taxman.
Should five per cent appear too small,
Be thankful I don’t take it all.

(If you drive a car ), I’ll tax the street,
(If you try to sit ), I’ll tax your seat,
(If you get too cold ), I’ll tax the heat,
(If you take a walk ), I’ll tax your feet.

Don’t ask me what I want it for
(Haha! Mister Wilson!)
If you don’t want to pay some more
(Haha! Mister Heath!),

Now my advice for those who die, 
Declare the pennies on your eyes, 
‘Cause I’m the Taxman,
Yeah, I’m the Taxman.
And you’re working for no-one but me,

(Harrison- 1966)

I was listening to Revolver again yesterday and once again, it occurred to me what masters of their craft The Beatles were. Not only were they way ahead of their contemporaries musically, at a time when the opposition were still exploring basic 12-bar 3 chord rock&roll, but they were also engaging their listeners lyrically on a plane somewhat above the average R&R commentary of the time, with some telling insights.

And of course George threw his toys out of the cot in 1966, what with Harold Wilson's Labour Government taking 95% of their earnings, at a time when The Beatles finally started to earn some real money. Small wonder then, this song. However I'm interested to note an almost visionary quality in some of the lyric. 

Taxing the street? Toll roads of course
Tax the heat? Energy/Carbon taxes!
I'm not too sure yet about taxing your seat and taxing your feet, but I'm confident that governments everywhere will soon dream up a means of doing exactly this.

Certainly bridge tolls in the UK are very old, however I'm unsure as to whether roads were actively tolled - the M6 being the only new toll road. Anyway, I don't think there was any mention of energy taxes in 1966, so  this qualifies as visionary! I'm kinda wondering if maybe the chancellor of the exchequer didn't take his lead from the Beatles in dreaming up a few new taxes.... 

And on George Harrison's solo tour of Japan in 1991 "If you're overweight I'll tax your fat".

Now there's a thought! Just what the world needs. I gather Britain is getting as chubby and lard-assed as the US with their shoddy eating and sedentary lifestyles these days. Imagine a compulsory annual medical assessment (which each person would have to pay for, of course) where one's weight was computed against frame and height, and each kilo over the "ideal" was progressively taxed! Would bring in a lot of money, and as a spinoff we'd have a large number of people losing some ugly fat. The rationale of course would be a  "consumption tax" to disincentivise excess food consumption (particularly meat, since vegetables are virtually impossible as a means to gain weight substantially).   

The only negative(!) would be that these folk would find their health improving - which is bad for Big Pharmaceuticals, the Mega Food industry with its "Factory Farms" and the medical profession. I guess for that reason there may never be a "fat tax" - too much unintended pressure on Big Business (pun intended).

And as for the pennies on one's eyes, of course estate duties are a well-entrenched tradition. The last person who gets a bite out of you before you go, is the taxman. 

Thursday, June 21, 2012

MegaFartz Syndrome and 21st Century Cynicism

"Are you a man - over 50?
Do you wake up in the morning without a hard-on that can raise the roof and dislodge the roof tiles?
Do you wake up sometimes without an erection at all?
If so, you could be suffering from Floppicox Syndrome - YES! Floppicox Syndrome!!
Floppicox Syndrome was discovered by 2 doctors : Dr F.L. Opperman and Dr J.T (John Thomas) Cox
This potentially lethal disability can ruin your whole life and future happiness!
But Wait! There's hope! Ask your Doctor for Merck Lab's "Stiffen Up" or Pfizer's "Pole in a Mo' "

Ask today and live a life of freedom from tomorrow!" (Sounds more like Poppycock Syndrome to me).

Or what about this variant?

"Do your Fartz embarrass you? When was the last time your partner went "eeeeeuuuuggghhh!" when they came out of your recently-vacated toilet? Or when last did you notice traffic screeching to a halt outside because they thought it was the rumble of an earthquake - or maybe a ship sailing down the road, sounding its airhorn?

You could be a victim of Megafartz Syndrome. When you suffer from Megafartz, the little bacteria in the intestine get lazy and stop doing their job of breaking down nutrients into water and harmless CO2. Instead you get a buildup of deadly methane, sulphur dioxide and other atmospheric pollutants. And unchecked, in time, you can kill yourself and your family if you're not careful. And if you live in the EU, or in countries where they are monitoring carbon emissions, you could be presented with a nasty cold sharp measuring probe (for obvious uses), followed by a BIG fine.

But now there's hope. Lilly Labs in conjunction with Glaxo-Wellcome Smithkline Beecham have devised a life-saving new drug that effectively and safely calms and retrains the bacteria, reconverting them into models of bacterial efficiency. A single course - or maybe two - will result in peace and harmony in the home - and no nasty threat of Fart-Police raids embarrassing you and frightening the kids!

Ask your doctor about Lilly/ G-W SK-Beecham's "Fartless 'n Free" and set your intestines free again!"

Does any of this sound familiar? Go and watch "Big Bucks Big Pharma - Marketing Disease and Pushing Drugs"  - how the large pharmaceutical companies cynically exploit our gullibility through advertising sickness - effectively inventing new disabilities for which we can spend huge amounts of money being "cured". See how the large pharmas get onto the bandwagon, offering incentives from the time the trainee doctors enrol at med school.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hDsdc6kON3k

By the way - what do you think ADD is? Attention Deficit Disorder. Go and find out how much Big Pharma profited from this delicious little problem. What do you expect if you feed your kids junk food and sit them in front of a TV set all the time? Or TV games? (none of these in moderation). Did it ever occur to feed simple nutritious food, lots of exercise and stimulation of the mind and imagination - i.e. actually interact with your kids? Did anyone realise that kids need to be trained - as much to concentrate as to do anything else. Or is this too much like hard work?

Life doesn't come naturally - it takes training in all things. But no - somebody decided to give it a silly syndrome name (so we didn't have to feel guilty about being lousy parents), and out came the Big Pharma cure-all : drugs, drugs and more drugs- amphetamines, anti-depressents etc - all with side-effects for which you can be given more drugs.

Check out http://www.webmd.com/add-adhd/adhd-medication-chart  and at the bottom of the chart we have:
"The FDA has issued a warning about the risk of drug abuse with amphetamine stimulants. FDA safety advisors are also concerned about the possibility that all amphetamine and methylphenidate stimulants used for ADHD may increase the risk of heart and psychiatric problems.

The FDA has also issued a warning about a connection between antidepressants (including the non-stimulant Strattera) and an increased risk of suicide in adults aged 18-24, especially in the first one or two months of treatment.

While these risks may seem alarming, keep in mind that experts generally consider these medicines safe...."

RIGHT!!! The Experts!!!! Which experts? Oh - those experts who have been receiving golf clubs, memberships, freebies, and weekly visits from the medical reps. Yeah - right. What happened to common-sense?

And if any of this disturbs you - and we hope it does, you can explore Codex Alimentarius
http://www.natural-health-information-centre.com/codex-alimentarius.html
and find out how the World Health Organisation in conjunction with Big Pharma and the large international financiers are rolling out an international agreement, which if implemented across all signatory countries, will result in our freedom to eat healthy and choose alternative and natural medications (including garlic, and even, potentially, water!!) being curtailed. I kid you not. Natural herbs, garlic etc. would be available only on prescription from a GP, and supplied only through Big Pharma.

Where I come from, that's called "anti-competitive practice". Sadly, governments are so hand in glove with large corporations these days, that they no longer seem to be prosecuting this. Your freedom to remain healthy by eating healthy has just been terminated. Go and stand in the sickie queue for your prescription.

Do we really think the pharmaceutical companies are going to put themselves out of business by allowing people to actually be cured of their ailments, or condoning prevention of illness through education?

As Donald Trump says "It's nothing personal - it's just business".

Spread the word - for your sake, mine, and everyone else's.