Warning: Some readers may find the following ideas disturbing.

I have to confess that I am completely unsurprised by the death of the two journalists in America. I believe the saying goes: “Give enough monkeys enough guns and enough cameras and you’re bound to get a live televised atrocity eventually” or something similar so, no, I’m not shocked in the slightest. It’s just another gun horror in America and yet another reason for the idiots on the right to stand up and deny the correlation between gun ownership, gun access and gun deaths. As Donald Trump said “It’s not a gun problem, it’s a mental problem” and, for once, I agree with him; there is clearly something wrong within a society when people feel the need to kill and maim each other on a regular basis. We only differ in this instance because I believe arming the homicidal, disgruntled, disaffected and downright stupid will lead to death and Donald et al don’t see it that way.
It’s a topic I’ve covered a multitude of time and I won’t belabour the point because no matter how much one tries to reason with these idiots you simply can’t argue with someone who thinks he needs to be armed to repel the invaders.
I’m not sure if it’s Cuba, Canada or Mexico planning this armed invasion, but, apparently you can never be too safe in the US of A.
There are 3 deaths an hour from firearms in the US, so I’m not surprised and I’ve come to the conclusion that they, Americans, clearly want to kill each other and I’m tired of trying to convince them to stop. Let’s just skip it and move on to “The Sun” and other Murdoch group newspapers.
I genuinely thought the Murdoch group had sunk as low as it could with the phonehacking scandal, but, no, I was wrong.
I once wrote a piece about the sensationalist and gory turn the news had taken. How once, horrors were described and the public protected from the “trauma” of witnessing the carnage, but, now our base instinct to “see for ourselves” is exploited to sell newspapers with little regard to morals or ethics. Last week it was the graphic images of the Shoreham aircrash and another new nadir had been reached, but, displaying unrivalled dedication to setting new benchmarks it hasn’t taken long for them to plumb yet deeper depths as today the Murdoch group published pictures of the moment the young journalist in Virginia was shot.
To add to the sensationalist nature of the front page and maximise the opportunity presented to them they published an image from the camera being held by the killer; a “point of view” image with the gunman’s hand visible in the shot. It looks just like a video game… Most of the papers who chose to publish this image chose the moment when a fine mist of blood is visible erupting from the fatally wounded young woman, but, The Sun, to be unique, chose the moment when there was muzzle flash in shot.
Lined up at the newsagents the assembled front pages made a wonderfully graphic greeting, a series of stills that together made a stop motion film of another human’s moment of death.
I’d like to say “Well done!” to them all; they’ve set a new standard for being amoral and unethical whores whose favourite practice is pimping the dead to sell a few more papers, to receive a few more hits and, of course, make a bit more money.
I believe I shouldn’t have to protect my young children from seeing the front page of the newspapers and yet they, the Murdoch Group and their ilk, display an overwhelming need to publish disaster porn to entice and titillate those customers whose curiosity outweighs their resilience and morality. I suggest that if they really feel the need to publish such images then they should be forced put the rag out wrapped in a black plastic bag with only the brand-name visible, like they do with all the other pornography. Actually, if I’m honest, I’d far rather my child saw a vagina than a murder, but, maybe it’s just me… Maybe I’m the one who’s out of touch; Maybe, I am out of step with modern times; Maybe, I’m simply mad? I still think grief is private, not an opportunity, but, I fear the majority wouldn’t agree with me.
They, the people who make up the market, seem to have an endless and voracious appetite for tragedy and are supported by many who believe censorship of any sort to be the first sign of totalitarianism and to be fought against with all the fervour they can muster and to hell with the collateral damage.
If the populace didn’t want to lap it up then they wouldn’t and the papers wouldn’t sell, the images and videos wouldn’t attract so many hits and the paper would be out of business pretty quick as people wouldn’t buy something that repulsed them with the content and/or the editorial policy. I must conclude, based on the evidence, that it is absolutely what the market wants.

Does one fight this apparent truth or choose to profit from it?
If we are giving the market what it wants and living in times where everything must be seen, everyone wants to be famous and death sells then why should I fight it?
Shorn of my burdensome morals what could I do?
Well, without the inconvenient voices of the dual angels, conscience and ethics, I have had me an idea, an idea loudly championed by the demons of greed and avarice:
Let’s give more Americans more guns!
Let’s also give out cameras to anyone who doesn’t already have one, free ammunition and then ramp up their paranoia levels and financially “incentivize” these fucking idiots to just kill each other and make sure they do it on camera.
No death should be a wasted death, an unprofitable death, so we scoop up all the footage and broadcast it on a dedicated channel, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week!
We can have nightly round ups, hourly bulletins, twitter accounts telling people where the latest tragedy is happening so they can get down to film it… We can drag Jon Stewart out of retirement to present a humourous roundup of the funniest deaths complete with “looney-tunes” style sound effects!
I’m seeing holiday specials, theme shows and more: Imagine if next time the stock market crashes instead of investors and traders killing themselves in a cowardly and selfish manner, there was a way for them to raise some final revenue, some security for their loved ones and to go out in blaze of glory and who can think of a better way than by killing your co-workers in a psychotic rage, filming it and leaving the rights to your footage with your family as a nest egg. Bankers, traders and a hail of bullets… That would make a truly popular special.
Think about the integrated marketing opportunities and multiple revenue streams; think how much profit could be generated through a betting application allowing the public to get involved when some lost soul goes on a rampage!
People could bet on any and all outcomes; spread betting on the number killed or duration of rampage would be just the start! Bets could be taken on every conceivable scenario: if the shooter lives or dies, will they be shot or tasered, will they be taken down by authorities or a “have a go hero” looking for their own five minutes of fame?! I think I’m just scratching the surface of this modern media, multi-platform goldmine… Stream the whole lot to televisions via digital receiver, cable or Xbox, have apps for all tablets and smartphones so nobody need miss a minute of action and access to all content on all platforms for a simple monthly subscription fee.
Factor in the interactive betting app and I swear it’s got all the hallmarks of a real money spinner, all this incredible opportunity needs now is the backing and support from a practically soulless and ethically challenged billionaire whose greed and disregard for the rest of humanities’ value outweighs any hint of ethicality…
Come on Messrs Murdoch, this is clearly the wet fucking dream of opportunities, let’s talk share dividends and an executive producer’s salary.

V for Varoufakis!


I think it’s time we had a little chat, because, the truth is, there’s something very wrong with this world…

We are witness to the greatest heist of the, admittedly still young, 21st century. A heist of such audacity and brazenness combined with such lofty ambition that it ranks as one of the greatest robberies in all of history. Worse, it is being played out before us and we are ignoring it.
My adopted homeland having been, once again, plunged into chaos and handed further levels of unsustainable debt, is now being stripped of her final meaningful assets, the remaining profitable ones and her political system is descending into farce, though we will come to the resignations of Varoufakis and Tsipras shortly.

First, I think we should all just take a moment to understand that Greece is in the process of raising 50 Billion Euros through the forced sale of state owned assets.
The major deal has been finalised and contracts signed so that, for 1.3billion Euros, a German firm has secured a 40 year contract to “manage” 14 Greek airports.
All revenue from these assets will, for the next 40 years, flow through German hands not Greek; 14 airports… 40 years… 1.3 billion? Are you kidding me?!
That’s 93 million per airport for a forty year lease which breaks down to 2.3 million per year!
Most of these airports have been upgraded and expanded at public expense and most are, of course, popular tourist destinations.
If you don’t think this is a bargain then consider these facts:
The sales and reservation desks at Heathrow airport are rented by the airlines from the airport.
The lease, per year, on one of the larger booths is around 140,000 euro.
Every unit of space for everything you see, including the information desk, has to be leased from the airport;
Need check-in desks?… Well, that’s 2200 Euros per year. That’s per year and per square meter!
Airports are profitable, which of course is why the Germans want them and they just took them at the kind of price that would make even a banker feel slightly ashamed at his blatant thievery.
Marinas, ports, mineral rights, whole islands… All those assets that are still in the hands of the Greek people are to be given up for a fraction of their true market value as a condition of the third bail out. Please take into account that they’ve been forced to do this already as part of previous “bailouts”, which is why we’re near the bottom of the barrel and this time they’re even being forced to sell the lottery! Think just how little has to be left on the buffet table before you begin to gorge yourself on the corporate equivalent of dry muesli because that’s what a group is doing when it’s demanding the state lottery be included. It’s a heist and the thieves are even snatching the money generated from selling dreams to those from whom they’ve pretty much stolen everything else.
Stealing from those from whom has been stolen every last inch but one: their dignity, that final precious inch of dignity that is their freedom.
They’re trying to grab that as well by the way.

I want to make it perfectly clear what is happening here: Greece has debt, much of which is held by German banks and institutions; privately owned banks and institutions. The German government borrows money from these privately owned German banks and gives it to the Greeks. In return Greeks must sell their state owned assets. They’re forced to sell them at a fraction of the price they are worth and they’re selling to them to privately owned German companies. Privately owned German companies borrow money from privately owned German banks to buy the Greek states assets. German companies give the money they borrowed from German banks to the Greek government who then give it to their creditors, a consortium made up of, amongst others, the very same privately owned German banks and other privately owned financial institutions.
In conclusion:
Greeks have more debt, less revenue, less assets, less opportunity.
German bankers increased their profits and holdings, German industrialists and their shareholders increase their profits and holdings, Germany itself increase profits through taxes and from all the benefits that come with increased confidence in your financial markets.
It’s illogical, it’s economically unsustainable, it’s theft and we’re all standing idly by entranced by Miley Cyrus’s bikini line and has-been celebrities cutting a rug on a show hosted by a man wearing one.
Angry?… People, I’m fucking seething and I’ve haven’t even come to the crushing disappointment of Alekos Tsipras.
Well, clearly I have now, so…
Here is a man who sat down at the big boy’s poker table and had the hands to run it (apologies Victoria Cohen, I know the female of the species can play too). He came to power holding most of the cards, surfing on a wave of anti-austerity rhetoric and with great support both from the people and the support of the man who stood by his side; a man of charisma, intellect and that certain je ne sais quoi; a man with the gravitas of a sun.
It also appears he had custody of the big balls, but, I’m getting ahead of myself.
When they, the syriza government, launched their bold strategy of holding a referendum I was very excited; finally, I thought, here come some people who know how to play the game. When they received an overwhelming mandate of support for bold action, to reject more forced loans and privatisations, the authority to secede from the union if necessary, I believed there would be real change and that a daring strategy would pay dividends.
He who dares wins they say.
I imagined a world where Varoufakis would be allowed to propose legislation that would expose German interest for what it was, self -interest, not aiding but gaining, profiting from another nations misery, his nation’s misery. I foresaw legislation aimed at growing the economy, creating jobs and a tax policy that would reward companies for relocating to Greece, more that would reward farmers for their labour and stimulate agricultural jobs. I wanted to see proposals for import taxes on (mainly German manufactured) luxury goods, levies even more extreme than they currently are. I wanted a policy to ensure foreign companies like Lidl paid the tax they were due to in Greece.
I wanted them to agree to The Overlord’s demands, and those demands of their representative Frau Merkel, to put higher levels of VAT on basics like food, but, for the good of the Greek economy and therefore it’s creditors hopes of repayment, I hoped they would propose to put higher levels of VAT only on goods produced outside of Greece and imported in thus combating the influence of the European super producers and giving the Greek smallholder, who once provided enough food to feed the whole country, a chance to do so again.
When the IMF, powerful foreign governments and respected economists all appeared to side with Syriza on the need major changes I was absolutely ecstatic, buoyed by the potential for justice.

I guess I expected too much of a young firebrand politician emboldened by his apparent pride in his country and with the courage to fight when he was gifted such an overwhelming mandate to act as he saw fit. Instead Varoufakis went.
The press across Europe had begun to chop away at the man and now they implied he was duplicitous; his duplication of the entire countries tax records was seen as deceitful and worse. The fact that he was making preparations so that the Greek government could still function if they were to leave the Euro seemed to be swept under the table so we wouldn’t even contemplate it and instead we would begin to doubt the man.
It fit nicely into our standard racial stereotypes to see him this way and perceive his acts as pernicious. The propaganda war to discredit Varoufakis had taken its first good swing and, for one reason or another, the charismatic Greek was counted out and no longer allowed to continue the fight.
Duplicity, they implied, was the man’s nature and who knows what else could be found to ruin him…
Duplicity isn’t taking action in case the opposition fight dirty (which they did). Real duplicity is the German government pretending to agonise over the merits of giving the Greeks more money when it’s so extraordinarily profitable, Deceit is any implication of indecision on their behalf. It’s nothing more than a sham, an act, so as to disguise just how keen they are to keep the cycle going. The cycle being:
Pretend money being exchanged for real assets, real sovereignty and for real democracy.
The cycle has to stop and the man who stood up and said “I can and will stop this!”, who made his country believe, who went to all the effort to seize the power to enable him to act turned out to actually lack the will to do so and he inevitably flopped to the floor like a freshly landed trout.
He, Tsipras, shorn of the indignant Varoufakis shaped conscience on his shoulder, caved in and signed a shit deal, the exact kind he railed against and swore he wouldn’t sign. Now has come the next part of Alekos Tsipras’s master plan: resign and hold new elections.
I really think he took the whole “two negatives make a positive” mathematical theory out of context and is applying it to chaos and political theory:
Financial chaos (-) plus political chaos (-) = a bright and rosy future(+)!
Now, and I know I’m a dimwit so please feel to correct me mathematicians and physicists, but, I don’t think that’s how it works! I think how it works is financial chaos and political chaos with no leadership leads to a meltdown and societal collapse. I could be wrong, I’m not 100% with maths and consequences, but I think that’s how it works.

This election, in which Tsipras seeks validation from the electorate for siging the bailout terms and overseeing their ratification in parliament (a validation he will not receive) will achieve nothing but to further fracture a nation that had already seen political and societal divides the size of canyons open up and threaten to swallow society whole.
It will do nothing but provide the opportunity for the old guard and their European masters to seize control and revert to a process of acting in the best interest of themselves and the foreign elite. We may well see another EU approved technocrat government.
There’s supposed to be a choice in an election but, with Tsipras having been castrated and Varoufakis exiled, the choices are rather like the choice between being shot behind the storage shed or shot behind the chemical shed.
Really, can’t we all agree that’s not much of a choice at all.

I don’t want to see that and we shouldn’t have to see that. The people of Greece should get what they were promised: Hope, leadership, growth. It should be their reward for being brave enough to stand up and say “No, this is not right and you may not take our sovereignty” and so it is that I find myself wishing for a comeback from the man with courage, a sense of justice and popular support.

In my vision he rises again from the political ashes, strengthened and forged by the burning fires of torment, frustration and pain.
I see him more determined than ever as he strides forth, tall and proud, empowered by unseen forces and growing in stature with each step across the political stage as he prepares to speak to the masses.
Finally, he stands before them; not as a man, but, as the embodiment of an idea; an idea that freedom and dignity are not for sale. He reaches the dais and speaks:

“Voters;” He begins “I will vanquish the vexations of the now vehemently vengeful vox populi, be victorious over the vicious visions of the vile and the villainous.”
“I, the veridical now vindicated, vie to vigilantly vouchsafe with veritable verbiage, not vapid verbosity, the votive of the venerable vow ‘vox populi vox dei’!”…
“Vote for Varoufakis and vote victory for voters”

I know it’s a dream but it doesn’t have to be so here is my direct appeal to Giannis Varoufakis:
C’mon man, get up off the floor and lead your people!
It can be done and they can be saved!

I’ll even buy you a Fauwkesian mask and a cape if it will help.

Someone call a landscape architect, we need to get rid of this bush before it ruins the garden of Eden.

Like many my vintage and younger, growing up in the media age, I was raised in the thrall of the US of A.
A land, portrayed in the world of celluloid as a paradise; a land of fairness, equality and justice for all; defenders of liberty and freedom… America was the stunning woman, holding court to rapturous laughter on the other side of the bar whilst I sat with the  dumpy fishwife of a nation. There she was a 6ft, witty, intelligent, curvaceous Goddess whose beauty would make even Athena herself whack on a burka!
Yeah, I know, I know, but, I was young and impressionable, I believed the contents adverts, in Yoda, in the tooth fairy; I even thought God was real too.
As I grew up I got to see more of this woman, this America, fell for her charms harder, my love for her growing deeper, despite only knowing her from afar.
Then, one day, much to my horror, I got close enough to see and hear her with my own eyes and ears, not just the idealised projected image of her from afar that entranced so many, and what I saw ended my love affair in an instant.
This was no Einstein matching starlet; the face that greeted me was one of a crinkled, dead eyed whore. An old, syphilis crazed, herpes infected, aids riddled, gun-toting loon, caked in make-up to disguise her age and disease scabbed face.
The crowd had not been enthralled and jollied by her wit, they were laughing at her; hysterical at her ridiculous and insane prattling and desperately trying to humour her in case she went bat shit crazy, as she did once a decade, and started shooting people with all the verve, vigour and discrimination of an angry 15 year old in a Mid-western high school.

The oval office was occupied by a man named Bush and he and a coalition had just started knocking ten barrels out of Iraq (or ten million barrels, I’m not 100% sure); every bombing broadcast live on 24 hour news for our delectation.

A culture of anti-intellectualism was sweeping the country, a war against critical thought and analysis was being waged and the Persian Gulf was the distraction. This disease of idiocy was spreading, permeating, disseminating through the media that had once so enthralled me.
Opinion makers from every field were replaced with younger, prettier, better preened fuckwits who, far from being opinion makers, couldn’t form an opinion in their heads or question the logic of the one they were taught to parrot at every opportunity.
Nobody is entirely sure where this dumb disease originated, who was “patient X” so to speak, but, just as scientific minds have speculated that Aids transferred from monkeys into our species through Human-primate interaction, it is believed dumbness spread virulently after humans interacted with a Bush and it’s also aided in it’s spread by some sort of Fox.

4 years later and Bush was replaced with an Arkansas man, dressed in the clothing of a libertarian and with the affectations of a hipster, but, the heart and soul of a moderate conservative. He played the sax, smoked pot and got blown by voluptuous brunette secretaries; he was charming and garrulous in that plain-spoken, awww shucks pal, way. I quite liked him, but I wasn’t fooled completely by his patter.
Sadly, that penchant for getting a hummer was a bummer and he was impeached for the words “I did not have sexual relations with that woman”.
(So much for “what happens in the oval office stays in the oval office”… Or, Is that “what happens in Vegas”? Or,” what happens in the stock exchange?” I don’t remember; it’s definitely somewhere they do a lot of high stakes gambling.)

Then came the great brain robbery of 2001, an election stolen and history began to repeat itself.
By this point the nation I once adored had become so mentally discombobulated they didn’t question the result, nor complain about the fraud when told about it.
They didn’t seem to care that the King of the malapropism had seized power, that their once free country had become an aristocratic society with greater social divides than that of cake munching Marie Antoinette’s France or apartheid South Africa.
Democracy had been stolen from them and it now lay in the hands of the elite, they bought and sold politicians and political opinion like they traded cars, paintings and yachts.
Politicians’ votes were added to the necessary cost of business; just another employee to be added to the payroll except this one got serious benefits.
On September the 11th 2001 I, along with most of the world, watched a plane fly into a building on live TV. This was the second plane to hit and one of four that would be reported throughout the day.
In the days that followed we were given an explanation to soothe our baffled and terrified minds. A story of hijackings, terrorists, brave passengers and structural failure which we took in and believed because we needed to believe.

Another coalition was formed and we invaded Iraq.
15 years later, near 4 full presidential terms later and we can see the effect this has had on the region, the cost to our countries’ economic well-being and our international relations.

Yesterday, another presidential candidate called Bush stood in front a crowd of journalists and cameras and, for the second time in as many weeks (second that I am aware of), blamed his brother’s mess in Iraq on Presidents Obama and Clinton. His logic, if I can call it that, is Clinton didn’t do enough to keep Saddam and his WMD programme under control so is responsible for that and also for ignoring the threat of Islamic terrorism; and Obama for treating Iraq like an Irish catholic treats his wife, fucking her but pulling out too soon before the job was finished.
Last week, recorder on cellphone, he was challenged on this point by a thirteen year old girl who tried to grill him like Paxman. Jeb, being a Bush, told her “they’d have to agree to disagree”, in a manner that suggested recent historical facts were something to be debated like a psychology grads dissertation hypothesis!
The young girl came off from this encounter looking like she actually was Paxman or Jon Stewart and Jeb looked like an ignorant fantasist, a peddler of ridiculous lies and a man who thinks the American public really are that gullible.
Not one of the assembled journalists, investigative reporters, news men and women could muster up the testicular fortitude to ask the obvious question:
“Mr. Bush, are you really that fucking stupid?!”
Or;
“Mr Bush, do you really believe the American voter is that fucking stupid, that brain-addled that they can’t remember what happened in the last 15 years with some degree accuracy?”

I’m like a man who, after years of self-discovery, sexual experimentation and walking both sides of the sexual line has finally realised he is gay.
Basically: I’ve had more than enough Bush for one lifetime!

I lay awake last night, thinking about Jeb Bush for President; my insomnia gave me time to think, to ruminate and ponder. I thought about how daft people would have to be to vote him in; how imbecilic they would need to be to believe his ridiculous lies (falsehoods that are easily proven false); I thought about just how retarded a bunch of mewling, lobotomised fuckwits demonstrating previously unforeseen levels of thoughtless ignorance it would take to vote Jeb into the Oval office to sit as the 45th President of the United States.
Then, this morning, as a new dawn broke, I decided to write this piece because I realised he might just win.

Trump Tax plan revealed

Important post ‪#‎GOPDebate‬ news as new Trump tax plan revealed: 
If Elected everyone from the upper middle classes downwards will be taxed of 60% of their monthly joy.
Those on foodstamps will receive no joy whatsoever. 
“These freeloaders and layabouts of the working and middle classes simply haven’t worked hard enough to enjoy the right to such high levels of joy and so it will be collected and fairly redistributed to billionaires for whom money hasn’t quite produced the sort of joy they expected it to.” Trump announced from behind a unruly mob… of hair.
I for one would Vote Trump in 2016, he clearly knows who deserves happiness and, more importantly, who doesn’t.

Harder to navigate than the Oxford one way system.

I have noticed people have a lot of problems navigating their way round some of the terms regularly used in the media these days and as I am in agreement that some are quite baffling, nebulous and intangible I have decided to produce this glossary of terms to help those lost at sea.
I shall start with the word where there seems to be the greatest level of confusion: Terrorism.
An act of terrorism is a surprise attack, usually on people not directly engaged in the field of battle, and with the aim of furthering a particular political or ideological agenda through frightening the masses.
The difference between mass murder and an act of terror is that all important agenda. Killing half your high school because they called you a dork is not an act of terrorism. Killing some people with a different skin colour than you because they keep blocking your parking space: not an act of terror.
It’s bat-shit insane but it’s not terrorism.
Postman goes nuts and kills 14 colleagues with an angry Staffordshire bull terrier and a frozen haddock… Fruit loops for a brain and pretty terrifying but: Not terrorism.

The Brighton bombing, September the 11th, the murder of Lord Mountbatten and of course the worst terrorist incidents in history, Hiroshima and Nagasaki; these were all surprise attacks on non-combatants with the aim of furthering an ideological or political agenda through terrorising the remaining populace.

Now onto the harder stuff and we’re straight in with the difference between a “rebel” and an “insurgent”.
This baffled me for ages, they’re both small groups armed with Kalashnikovs and ancient Toyota pick-ups and both usually carry out terror attacks against a more powerful and controlling government. Yet, some are nasty insurgents and some are brave rebels.
Well, there is a way to tell the difference and, as it turns out, it’s not “which group do we give weapons to?”. Supplying the tools of death is no sign that we support someone, it just means we had some spare and needed the cash. No, it’s about who we hate less and which side promises to do the most for us if it wins. So, in Syria and Libya, where we disliked the leadership because they wouldn’t do exactly what we want them to, the small groups are the rebels led by Habib Solo, Labeeb Skywalker and Chews-tabbacy fighting against the evil empire of Darth Bashar.
In Iraq, however, where we put the government in place ourselves so they would do exactly what we want them to, a broadly similar group with pretty similar intentions are called the insurgents, attacking innocents and torturing young droids!
so,Just to clarify and clear up any remaining confusion:
Government we like, who does what we want? They’re fighting an insurgency. Government we don’t like and doesn’t comply with us? It’s a rebel uprising… This early distinction is how we then know who to sell the weapons to on credit and who has to pay cash.

Now, finally, we have the biggest confusion of them all. How to understand which of the repressive and oppressive, cruel, fascist dictatorships are part of the “Axis of Evil”, a “danger to regional stability” and probable “builders/possessors of WMD” and which are “our partners in peace”, a “stabilising force in the region” and “BFF’s“?
I know it’s often hard and history doesn’t seem to help at all. Nor does checking if we sell them weapons because we’ve basically sold EVERYONE weapons…
I mean, Saddam was our mate and we sold him weapons, and then he wasn’t and we gave him a doffing, and then he still wasn’t our mate anymore so we gave him another duffing up behind the bike sheds and made sure he was handed over to be killed, oops, sorry, I clearly meant “to face justice” for being an evil dictator who’s people we liberated and gave democracy to.
Then there’s Iran, they’re our enemy because they got rid of an evil dictator, liberated themselves from an oppressive regime and installed a democracy. So, logically, we despised them for that, gave Saddam the weapons to fight them (when he was our mate, obviously) and to this day we constantly threaten to blow them up.
It’s almost like there’s no firm rules!

Meanwhile, Saudi Arabia, one of the most restrictive and oppressive societies in existence, is our bosom buddy. It’s often perplexing for the unschooled to see why the nation that believes women are cattle, executes children, thinks a nice day out is to go see floggings, executions and a spot of whimsical chopping-the-hands-off -thieves in the main square and breeds terrorist the way a wet sponge breeds bacteria maintains this ally status.
People ask how are they our chosen partner in peace, the one’s we have diplomatic relationships with, whilst the other, far less oppressive, countries are evil?
As it turned out that too has an easy, yet easily miss-able, answer.
It’s not about ideology or democracy, it’s just about money.
Iran, Venezuela, Russia and Iraq want/wanted to sell us oil and gas and keep the money so: led by evil dictators.
Saudi: gives us tonnes of oil and then has the decency to lend the profits back to us by buying up western debt. We’d be completely screwed without it doing this, so, they’re our partners in peace.
Simple.

Authors note: Kim Jong Un, want to stay safe? Lend California a few quid and they’ll look after you.

Beat him like a red-headed step-child.

At the bottom of the page I have included the link to the news article this ramble refers to.

A 37 year old British man by the name of Mark Colborne is on trial for planning to commit acts of terrorism. He planned to murder Prince Charles in the hope that Prince Harry will come to the throne. Now, ignoring the fact that Harry is fifth in line to the throne, so, killing Charles would have done precisely bugger all towards furthering this man’s cause, it’s very interesting to look at the why he planned to off the befuddled horse shagger in favour of the Nazi uniform wearing, party Prince in the first place.
Mark is a militant ginger.
He planned to get Harry on the throne in the hope that by having the ginger Prince become the ginger King society might just stop persecuting people with red hair.
(Obviously, when I say “ginger king” I mean King who is ginger. Chris Evans is the “ginger king”!)

I think people have very little idea what its like to grow up ginger in a society where it’s the one group everyone feels they can abuse without fear of any retribution by society. Only the persecuted individual will exact retribution for the abuse and then will inevitably be punished for exacting said vengeance.
So, basically it’s lose/lose for us fire crotches.
People constantly bang on about how damaging it is to suffer racial abuse if you grow up in a “minority” but, being a “carrot top”, that’s an actual minority.
The highest statistic I saw was 5%; 5% of the global population and the majority are concentrated in the Scandinavian regions of the world, Holland and Scotland.
So, southern England? 1 in a 100. That, that’s the unrepresented minority.

“Oi, oi copper knob!”
“Hello Duracell”
“Carrot top”
“Ginger twat”

I said to my ginger-fancying wife only two days ago at my, thankfully not ginger, eldest daughter’s school that we, the gingers, are the true minority. There we were, sat waiting and a bit bored, and I was looking round the assembly hall at the assembled parents, teachers and kids when I noticed there were lots of Asian faces, Oriental faces, White faces and Afro-carribbean faces, but, just the one ginger girl (and me).

“hello ginge, how’s your minge? Is it red, like your head?”
“Go and cry to mummy you little ginger bitch!”

I guarantee she get’s plenty of this sort of grief, yet, I can also guarantee that nobody addresses it as anything more than playground taunting. They, the school, certainly wouldn’t treat it the same as they would if someone said the “N” or the “P” words and I expect she, the girl in the class, probably wouldn’t even know to complain in the same way one of her technicolour classmates would.

Consider this: so institutionalised and accepted is red hatred that there’s an oft used, popular American expression that get’s delivered pretty frequently in TV shows and movies, usually with a southern drawl. It says: “Beaten like a red-headed step-child”
Think about that. It implies, nae, it flat out states that not only is it ok to beat a red headed child but they should get extra hard beatings over and above the normal because they have red hair… Bet you don’t even think about how that impacts on people who are red headed let alone red and step children, but, if it was “beaten like a n*gga by the police” the world would be up in arms.

Did you know you can even buy a jolly greetings card to send to gingers? it says:
“you may claim you’re strawberry blonde, or even auburn but… it you deny you’re ginger, you’re off your ginger nut”
I checked and I couldn’t find the one that said:
“you may well claim you’re English and only lightly brown, but claim you’re not a P*ki and you’re a bloody P*ki clown!”
I should at this point clarify I’m not racist or xenophobic, I give not two shits for the colour of your skin, your hair or your disability, I hate you all and I do so with equal loathing…
This could just be the reason why.

Still unsure if you believe me?
Maybe I’m over exaggerating?
Type “best ginger insults”, or “ginger jokes” (these amount to the same thing) into your browser and go see for yourselves.

Whats the difference between gingers and bricks? Bricks can get laid.

Look, I’m not saying people should stop abusing gingers, at the end of the day you won’t hurt me with words because of the abuse I continually suffered, I’m just saying don’t be surprised when one of us goes apeshit and kills you all. You fucking asked for it!

http://www.france24.com/en/20150512-ginger-fanatic-plotted-prince-charles-murder-make-harry-king?ns_campaign=reseaux_sociaux&ns_source=FB&ns_mchannel=social&ns_linkname=depeche&aef_campaign_ref=partage_user&aef_campaign_date=2015-05-12

Let’s bury the rhetoric instead.

I lost a reader yesterday, he was, in all probability, the one person who I wrote to impress. My harshest critic and most valued fan.

He died, ostensibly,from either heart failure or more probably from cancer, both of which had been troubling him for some time.
His weak heart meant surgical treatment for the cancer was not an option and his 3 month prognosis ruled him out of further heart treatment.
He was just a few years into retirement and the doctors said the engine’s shot, the gearbox is knackered, you’re scrapped.
He gave his life to government. He worked as a civil servant from 17 and eventually came to the position where he orchestrated every election in his sizeable region for the last thirty-odd years. To put this in context, this was the first election of my lifetime where he was not at the helm and the truth is that when he needed the system he had worked for, and sacrificed two marriages and a child to, when he desperately needed it to help him they told him he was too much of a risk to help and would only last 5 months anyway.
That was well over two years ago.

He was a man of culture and of the earth’s salt… though that may have contributed to the heart problem.
He mas a man of dignity and believed in continual learning, love of art, theatre and music and these enriched the soul leading to self-improvement. He liked Tom Waits and Leonard Cohen and yet wasn’t a miserable twat.
He believed one should be actively engaged in the business of the day and pay attention to the world around you. He was political and passionate.
He could tell a joke like only a scouser can and he taught me that debate, words and conversation are vital to a functioning society, but, humour will make people engage.
He was absolutely fucking useless with a stroppy teens,we did not speak for twenty years and whilst he was fallible as a Father, or shit as I used to say in my angriest of moments, he was a good man, a real man, a worthy human being and a great friend to all those lucky enough to know him.

When conventional medicine gave up on him we discussed the latest alternatives to chemo. He discussed it with his Macmillan nurse (donation coming soon, thank you, you wonderful people) and he and I discussed if there was time and if it was possible to provide the means for him to try the one hope that appeared in his world of terminal prognosis.
We discussed the possibility of finding a trial for him and we discussed the practicalities of relocating to somewhere that did allow this pioneering treatment.
Sadly, such a death sentence makes it difficult to relocate, there is no trial for this product in the UK and the cost of the “drug” prohibits my acquiring sufficient amounts to make the product myself.
I do not have a license for producing this product so had I have begun making the base ingredients at my home I would have been subject to a sizeable prison sentence, my wife would have lost her job and my children would be in care not private school.
So, we decided I wouldn’t produce it and that road was a dead end.

I have no idea if this product would have worked for him; there is growing evidence that it may, but, equally, not enough is known to ensure my father’s tumour was one of the 20 plus different types of cancer known to react to the treatment, but, there would have been reason for at least some hope and when you live 18 months past the date you’re told you’ll die hope is something your soul craves to get you through the pain.

I am glad his pain is over, I am glad we came to speak again, be friends, engage in honest dialogue and resolve our past actions.
I will miss our chats and rue the lost years.
I’m also angry, really rather angry.

Cancer may have killed my Father; Marijuana prohibition killed our hope.