But You Can't Put Them Back Together.

Part of the great conspiracy which entangles and enfeebles our children before they can even get going is the 'firmament';
the firmament is the illusion of what the universe is which is used to equip children for living death in a world kept going for them like a pretty school bus with an engine that nobody sees and nobody imagines.

The engine is silent.
The engine produces no fumes.
The controls that make the engine go are invisible.
The driver is that 'nice mister Blair', or Brown, or Cameron.

The engine was forged in the 'white heat of technology'.

Here's your big surprise: we are that engine.
We are silenced.
We are never mentioned.
We are kept out of sight, off the tv and radio and out of the newspapers.

We do all the work.
We are the slaves.
We are the bastards gift to their idiotic offspring, the true 'birthright' of being British, and because we would rather act like them in order to stand aside from being slaves, we are witnesses to our own impoverishment and the collapse of the British economy of doing useful things, like a Souffle made of powder and paste.

Their dream is falling apart in their hands.

So they find ever more devious, sensitised ways to hunt us down and out, to force us to work, and if we give even the slightest impression that we would rather work for ourselves, they will see to it that we are left with neither work nor the self to do it.

They will 'hand us our daily bread in individual slices'(Elvis Costello) rather than see us inflict a moment of our own success and happiness on their consciences.

Because, you see, they care!

It's All So Simple.

"Hey guys! Let's start 'society' right here!"

This Just In...

Cherie Blair has recently struck up a friendly relationship with a young lady in America who claims to be her long-lost sister.

The young lady is currently in a maximum security prison in the USA after murdering a family with a chainsaw and crossing the Canadian border.


Cherie commented that she would do everything in her power as a Lawyer to see that the girl is set free as soon as possible.
Apparently a bed at Number 10 is being warmed as we speak.

Security Camera Footage.

A short while ago the Central European Bank was robbed.
Although the Dye Cartridge exploded and stained much of the money, thieves still got away with an entirely unknown, but large, amount of money.

Police would like to interview the man shown above in order to eliminate him.
From their enquiries.
Surete Chief Art Gimp said:"Bien. Le Salot peut vole, mais nous cherchons tous les Voleurs!"

Good News Everybody!

Tonight is 'Ugly Betty' night!
See y'all later y'hear?

You Exshpect Me To Talk?

No, mister Bond. I expect you to adopt Linux like me.
Why?
Ever since I found myself receiving the attention of the doctors, I vowed that I would find a way to kick down the walls surrounding me in a foaming sea of frustration, to find true liberty, to somehow integrate my efforts.

And as you can see, after two heavy days, I am fully functional and in possession of a network server which eats up the files of mere 'Windows' computers like a hot knife passing through butter.
Bwwwahahahahahaha!

Uvavu! Iranu Indeed!

I've just discovered why Linux is free.
Can you guess?
No?
It's written by a bunch of punks who like throwing bricks through windows.
Two months of work destroyed when I tried to install a variety on unpartitioned space and it destroyed the partitions it wasn't supposed to touch.

Ooops. Well, it's not like we're doing it for money, eh?
Ooops. These jokers had better not try doing it for money either.

I Love Ugly Betty!

In my opinion, Ugly Betty is by a long way the best show currently transmitted on any channel in the UK.
Thanks to the evolutionary 'Freeview' digital television technology(that is, not using strictly digital image reproduction but digital transmission and analogue reproduction), I have a seleciton of regular viewing which gives me at least one good show a night; Monday, ITV4 shows 'The Professionals' for those who like their guns, motors and heroes straight.
Monday and Tuesday, also ITV4, 'Andromeda', for those who enjoy their ensemble Sci-Fi reduced to a minimalist pressure-cooker of characters and challenging plots.
Until recently, BBC4 was showing 'The Avengers' on Thursday, but they stopped.
Still, it was Emma Peel, albeit in one of the silly 'in color' series.
Fridays I work nights, Saturdays I like to watch 'Monk' on BBC2, and every day twice a day on ITV3 one can watch 'Due South', but on Wednesdays, at 9PM prime-time on E4(an offshoot of Channel 4) I love to watch the perilous exploits of Ugly Betty.

She lives in a world of conflicting values and personalities, with a plot that never fails to reveal a new surprise around each corner, even if it is only a decent streak in one of the villains, and powerful, emotional stress that is uplifting as the peak at the end of some kind of roller-coaster.

All underlaid with a consuming sense of moral rightness in a world of realistically devilish influences.

Truly a superb comedy drama.

Born Yesterday Converts To Labour.

Astonishing though it seemed, today Gordon Brown(Taxes the Poor) cut income tax.
Or so it seemed.
The cost of cutting the 22% base rate by 2% will be £8bn less for the government; but what's this?
Gordon Brown(with his medallion) has abolished the 10% starting rate.
This means that the very poorest earners(like me) will pay an additional £7.3bn in income tax.
So in fact, Gordon Brown(should be tied to a mast) will be cutting income tax by about £10 per year per person.
Unless you are poor, in which case you will pay more.
Jaw-droppingly sick, eh?
That's one way of abolishing poverty, isn't it?
Just legislate it and the poor out of society completely and let them join the droves of government-supported cabbages doing nothing for something.
That way we can ensure that anybody who does act stupidly enough to work here is doing something 'middle class' like TV or working in some form of media consultancy, and all the poor jobs can be exported, so that we can finally create an 'us-and'them' economy in the world, where every wog has a place and every wog is in it, while the White Man's Burden is carried from within the home offices of virtual colonialists all over this winking, sneering, simpering ant-farm that used to be a country.
Sleep tight everybody.

They Are Actually BOASTING!

On television and radio at the moment is an advertising campaign which tries to recruit people for the Sotzial Services.
It uses the multi-layered sophistication that only the bright sunlit upland of virtually unlimited funding affords.
The late, great, Louis Armstrong has been appropriated to the cause, as his brand of slightly slow, slightly sentimental-sounding soul music is something that the up-and-coming sotzial-ists have wet fantasies about in their moments of wishing that 'someday every kid will have a home like this'.
This is overlayed with fantasy case studies of how certain clients were helped and how satisfying it feels to be the one that made it happen.
For example, (and quite, quite horribly)there is the "75 year old with Alzheimers".
The social worker helps with her make up, and every compliment the lady receives is taken as a compliment by the 'worker'.
Great. So the little old lady is robbed of her dignity and any credit she gets.
Now that's what I call a parasite.

But the best comes last; they have a new slogan.
Wait for it...
Here it is!



1+1=3

Oh, boy!
So that was the reason for all the bad education over the last twenty years?
To reach the day when people could actually go on public television and say without any sense of irony that one plus one equals three?

And people are supposed to understand it!
The true horror is in the assumption that we will.

They Really Really Mean It.

What is the latest word on 'product'?
Well, there's a lot of it about. There are thousands of establishments all over the country which are specifically devoted with explicit formality to the production of units, creatures of acquired habits, creatures which will fulfill their creators' dreams of harmony.

Funny that. When the creators first sold their dream of harmony we were sold a bill which promised angelically pure devotion, devotion to us, and an end to the irritating tendency of the young to be wilful and wayward, a way to stop them from seeking their fortune on the wide borne of the world and lead them into a form of obeisance wherin we could assume our rightful positions of seniority.
They would be ever seeking our wizened advice and the masters of schooling would be the masters of all.

So.
What went wrong?
Today we have millions of little terrorists, all seeking to break each other down and do nothing useful for anybody. They are foul, foul-mouthed and violent.
What went wrong?

In one, short, word, nothing.

Nothing went wrong.
We set out to produce a particular result, and we got exactly what we asked for.
The only thing that was wrong was the illusion used to sell the crap in the first place.
But I'm guessing that the amount of embarrassment mixed in with the outrage shows that we really knew it all along.

We wanted conformity to social ideals and that is exactly what we got.

We got conformity to social ideals, any and every social ideal.
As this precludes any particular social ideals, we have a generalisation, a loyalty seeking to be attached. Freedom has declined to just meaning 'choose your conformity' a choice of loyalty to one of the variety of causes.

But the bedrock of the shared experience is the conformity to socialisation of the mind.

And today we send these little warrior-agents out into the world where they invade, degrade, violate, abuse and wreck.
All without any meaningful reprisal except recourse to legal sledgehammers which leave the punished guilty feeling ever the victims, producing a wailing, suppurating, deafening cacophony of protest which eventually undermines even this, last, legal bastion of recourse for the innocent.

But what we must realise is this; they really, really love us, and what they do they do for our own good.
Their love consists of bringing us back into the fold of security, by means of rendering us incapable of any form of independent life, by making sure that we are like them.

And all that matters to them, is that we, whether friend or enemy, are like them.

Progress Has Been Made.

Remember the heady days of the mid-seventies?
When Britain had just three tv channels?
When the BBC first started to see itself as the campaigning guardian of the public safety?
"That's Life" with Esther Rantzen, righting the wrongs and defending the underdog; more recently, "Crimewatch" and "Watchdog".
It all seemed so promising, such a sign of rightness in this benighted land, a reason to hope that the future would promise the future we were promised.
Watchdog.

The word is so commonplace today one would be forgiven for thinking that a revolution of popular defence had really occurred; every corner we are likely to turn is under the eyes of some 'watchdog' or other, but why?

Well.
The rebel, the renegade, that which seeked to right wrongs and overturn the stifling status quo of that time has been subverted.

Watchdogs don't start barking when horrors are perpetrated any more; they are the horror and the perpetration, the tools which watch us and not just when we want, but from cradle to grave in an inversion which rejoins that which was stifling us to that which had promised hope.
Watchdogs abound, all the while attacking anything they can libelously project as our enemies, all the while putting us to sleep by the power of our own disgusted indifference, once the vague sense that it's all upside down again infects our perceptions.

Jill Dando was murdered, but where was the outrage? Where was the shock? Where was the cooperation?
She was shot in an outrage even outraged criminals approved of, in a twisted, uncertain way, as if they were the real victims; she didn't expect it. After all everybody was asleep in Noddy-Land, nobody had an axe to grind, crime isn't real, criminals do not really exist or wish to do the things they do.
Everybody has been playing the public interest game for so long, who could have predicted such an end?
And yet, once it had happened, why were so few people genuinely surprised? She was the victim and tool of a neo-establishment drive to neuter the populace, something they are variously too tired or too satisfied to notice or resist, after seeing so much misguided and malicious resistance to change in the past.
The automaton of 'progress' has been created and set loose in the public imagination, all the while appropriated by the agents of enslavement, as they do and have done for a hundred years.

The BBC is losing control.
After all the private watchdogs that proliferated in the eighties began to fade in the disintegration of the televisual audience monolith, they were replaced with all the 'public' (state) versions, which will fade from sight like yesterday's socks or soldiers, becoming disreputable at the next shedding of the juggernaut's skin, which doesn't by any means have to be electoral.

The new watchdog is the blogosphere, the internet, and the reason that so many of the usual suspects make so much noise about our freedoms is that they know it too.

Never Mind. Steal This One Instead.

Steal This Video!

>

I Had A Dream....

Unlike King's dream, I saw no brotherhood.
I dreamt I was talking about the invention of some Oxford Dons and that they resented my talking about it.
Whereupon I regaled them with tails of how I (really) have been conned and ripped off two or three times, virtually every time I try to make something happen, every time I try to get somewhere; and to sum it up, I roared "Don't get me wrong- this country deserves to perish-but without taking a single human life!"

Then I woke up.

And I'm still awake.

It's All The Fault Of The Rand Corporation!

Well the first episode is well under way, and the BBC is mixing fact and supposition based on its own self-interested polemic.

Ayn Rand isn't mentioned, but Game Theory is used as the underlying scapegoat for the indisputably 'noble' politicians' misguided policies.

A particularly shallow and fake attack on a psychiatric genius called R.D.Laing was mounted early on in the BBC phantasm, claiming that when he talked to 12 women 'schizophrenics' in the fifties, within a few months they were all well enough to go home; that they were all back within a year was supposed to be evidence of his 'complete failure to cure them'.
Then, when they further revealed that Laing found that it was their families that drove them back through power games played at home, the BBC started to call him 'paranoid' and made vaguely grandiose condemnations based on 'the Cold War'.

Nevertheless, as a history of the proofs of Laing's theorems, it is compulsive viewing, if you can get past the soft-soaping telling us that politicians really do have our interests at heart and winning the Cold War was a bad thing caused by our 'paranoid' persecution of the Soviet Union.

By the way, surveys showing that 50% of the US is mentally ill reflects 'mathematics'.
It has nothing to do with the destruction of psychiatry's power base by Laing, and is not a reflection on their self-interested behaviour.

Right?

You got that?
Replace persecution with formalised(not objective, as the BBC seems to imagine)intimidation, and blame, blame, blame Thatcher.

Come One Come All..

Maybe I'm being premature.
Maybe it's because I just saw something good on tv, namely Jon Snow's Battlefield Britain talking about the Battle Of Britain in 1940, but I am inclined to allow the illusion to persist until disproven when it comes to the new BBC documentary about Blairism:

"The Trap:What Happened To Our Dream Of Freedom?"

This title would do very well for one of my analyses, and seems to be heading in the same direction.

Doubtless the actual programme will be a severe disappointment, but keep an eye out nevertheless.

Eurovision Anybody?

This is the Israeli entrant courtesy of Samizdata.net

And Ignorance.

Why are the British just so, damned evil?

Back In The Groove.

Impotence-The Social Disease.

What form does joy take in this, most wonderful of modern ages?
Is it the sneering leer of the dunken youth(which may actually be genuine)?
Or is it the cold, ruthless deadness of the drug-dealing 'man of affairs', with his miserable habits, his miserable pony-tailed hair style, his miserable clothes and his mean-scale empire of things?

No.
These are not all.
These are just the symptoms, along with the grunts of the 'women' who look for a man to eviscerate, mentally of course, before poisoning their babies against the world and against their lives.

What passes for a moment of joy in this modern world is actually a vile impulse of triumph at some imaginary victory over 'others' in which there are only losers.

The target is happiness. The target is mankind.
The method is impotence.

To create the condition of impotence there are literally millions of creatures(not people) that will go to any length and measure of desperation to inject their particular brand of helplessness into the healthy.

They will literally study their intended victims for years at a time, they will literally plot by any means the misery of these people, they will literally stop at nothing short of murder if they think they have a chance of success.

Or even if they don't.
They are beyond cowardice.
They are beyond bravery.
They simply exist for that fleeting impulse, that gap between action and result, blind action and the end of delusion, and they know no other way to replace the fear of consequence that drives them to hide.

They want to create a race of confused, helpless, adult babies, people who can't do, only be, people without the ability to tie a knot properly, or drive a car, or make anything worthwhile.

In software, they are the people who invent ever higher levels of esoteric abstraction, turning science into a church, a guild of monastic isolation as a substitute for creativity.
In industry, they are the people who withdraw from the fields of actual endeavour, into virtual businesses which don't actually do anything except pay for the owners skiing trips or Grouse shoots. Here in Yorkshire every big factory from the old days tells a story of organic growth in the variety and ages of their buildings; every one that has gone broke seems to end with a modern 60s or 70s office block while all the actual guts are left to go to hell.
Along with all the business that actually built the places.

(But don't worry-we're all "post industrial", so that's alright then).


And in Art they were the people who were inflated by the arch manipulators of downfall into positions of eminence while producing images and artefacts of debasement and mutilated form.

And form follows function.

In Other News...

The 'Fairly Secrets' are getting busy again.
Today as approached the depot through heavy traffic in my truck, I noticed a brief, blue flash near the car park.
Thought nothing of it.
In my car on the way home I'm cruising at 40 on the dual lane, and a newish Range Rover pulls alongside and stays there.
No problem.
There's a 40 mph Gatso camera 200 yards on; nevertheless I check to see if the left hand windows of the Range Rover are open.
They aren't.
Then there's another blue flash.
And the car accelerated away.

Somebody tell these wankers how to turn the flash bulb off.
Then they can take my picture without me knowing.
If they want me to know, then I find that funny.

If they don't, I find it pathetic.

They must be fairly secrets; professionals couldn't really be that bad at surveillance, could they?