Pure Evil.

Strictly Come Dancing.
Big Brother.
The Apprentice.

All these things are glorying in PURE EVIL, gratuitous and thrown in our faces out of spite and daring, the daring being seeing how long they can get away with the abuse of millions and the enslavement of the few Dolphins in the net that they don't want to throw back.

It is PURE EVIL because it is the deliberate and systemic replacement of dignity, freedom, self-reliance and justice by an entirely artificial social construct of approval, conformity and the judgement of and by peers who regard themselves as superiors.

People LITERALLY jump through hoops and stand on their heads attempting to please superannuated scum which appoints itself to positions of power on the promise that they will drag back in the reluctant television viewer.
Apparently if they smile enough the moral holocaust won't be detected; I'll bet Goebbels smiled that way.

Fred's On Form!

This just in from Fred; Webb for VP. Yes.

This Just In.....

The British Telecom internet spine has been out of action for 18 hours due to hostile action.
Radical, baby!
But as you can see, I'm back.
Resistance is futile.
Tell Sid!

How To Make Enemies and Influence People.

The Vogons have truly taken over.

No, Really, You Couldn't Make This Up

At 8PM on ITV 4 tonight?
The Prisoner!
The episode about the fake brain surgery, where to cure him of being 'unmutual' they drug, terrorise and pretend to lobotomise him.
At every ad break?
Yes! Cartridge World, trying to appeal to our 'social conscience' and stop dumping ink cartridges.
You really, really couldn't make this up.

Think Happy Thoughts Everybody.

On the TV ticker-tape right next to each other: "The government wins 42 day terror detention vote." and "The government admits it has lost top-secret Al-Quaeda files."

You couldn't make this up. These stupid bastards can't look after a simple document, yet they arrogate to themselves the right to lock anybody they choose up for 42 days without charge or trial, provided some jobsworth bleats or blurts the magic 'terror' word on cue and to instruction.

Do these cunts really believe we believe?

I Could'a Been A Contender!

The old Alma Mater does it one more time. Something useful.

By Special Request

ALCATRAZ!

Nice Bridgework - What About The Boatrace

Golden Gate Bridge, as seen from the Wacky Jacky. The bridge cost $22 million; all-private and without a shred of government interference, designed to charge 25 cents for as long as it took to break even, then become free, now still charging - $5.
As we leave the Pacific Ocean behind us and re-enter San Francisco Bay, this was the view over the back.
The city of San Francisco. On the left, the white structure is a docked cruise liner. Apparently San Francisco is the number one tourist destination in the world.

Next Installment.

If you must rebel, this is a good example of how to do it. Seen at the Embarcadero BART station.

An example of the world-famous San Francisco Cable Cars. This one goes up Nob Hill to Polk Street.

A view of the Bay Bridge to Oakland.

In Castalogna's Restaurant, a pint of the superb 'Alaskan' beer.

From my table in the restaurant, the birth which normally holds the Wacky Jacky, a fishing boat which doubles as a tour boat for less than half the price of the regular ferries.


More views from my table. The food was superb.

I Was Walking Down The Street One Day....

A couple of unique San Francisco Streetcars; they have been preserved from the 40s and 50s, as well as augmented by imported antiques from cities such as Milan which no longer require them.


This is the Wells-Fargo bank in Montgomery street. Unfortunately I had left my pistoleros and sombrero in the hotel, so I couldn't mount a raid.

This was a 'get Smart' underpass at the SFO domestic terminal. The real view was much better than the picture shows.
This is the Ferry Terminal, key to exploring the waterfront of San Francisco.
Anyway, so here I am with flowers in my hair.
Better not go down Polk Street.

Whoops!

So here I am five thousand miles from home, and my hotel key stops working.
Go to the desk, they say, "How long are you staying?"
Not a good question seeing as I paid the full $900 the day I arrived. They fix my key, but I can't find my receipt when I get back to my room.
However, thank heaven for computers because they've got the records. All fixed. I'm coming home at the right time.
That's that. Horrible moment averted.
Soon I shall be back in yurp.

Rip Off Britain.

I needed to phone a cab.
I bought a T-Mobile PAYG phone for 15 quid.
The most expensive rate is 33cents per minute, half the UK rate.
The whole thing took five minutes from walking in the shop.
I've been making transcontinental calls to Canada at 33cents/ minute.
The phone is a Nokia which works anywhere in North America.
Vodafone? Don't make me laugh.

Just Gets Better.

I've just been watching C-Span.
The Libertarian Party Conference. The real Libertarian Party. They had a presidential candidate debate with seven candidates. They were the real thing. They spoke intelligently for the most part, with heroes like Ayn Rand, Cicero, Yogi Berra(?) and WSC.
They want to scrap drug laws, income tax and gun laws. They are an excellent collection of people, not to be confused with non-American imitations.
Incidentally, one candidate runs an online poker business. His name is Root.
It will be on again tomorrow; here in Colorado the Libertarian Party gets as much attention as the Labour Party in England.
Don't tell me Britain is free. It isn't.

Holiday

Just been for a trip up the California Street hill - Nob Hill - for a sandwich in town. Obviously I rode the cable car up the hill, but today is a holiday weekend and so I tried to avoid the crowds.
Word to the wise, dudes and dudettes - Chinatown is on the cable car ride, which starts at the Ferry Terminal.
Also starting at the Terminal are East Bay Ferries and the Streetcars(not the same thing), which go along the waterfront to Pier 39 and Fisherman's Wharf. Fisherman's Wharf is a prime tourist attraction, chocka today, but get this; the restaurants a reasonable, the food and beer is superb(you must try an Alaskan) and the place is filled with actual fishing boats.
The souvenirs are quality and not too expensive; for example, San Francisco can get windy, foggy wet and cold on the hottest of days.
So what do the guys sell?
That's right. Windcheaters with linings and hoods for $20. Also bought a decent hoody for $15; of course, it's embroidered with "Alcatraz Psycho Ward - Outpatient".
Works for me.
Try the New York Steak sandwich at Castaglianos, looking over the harbour. Yum.
Only trouble is you need to pay a lot of cab fares.
But once you get to the BART just go to the Embarcadero stop(Ferry Terminal) and that is the key to San Francisco; the Romans knew it, the Carthaginians knew it, and now you know it.

All A Lot Of Fuss Over Nothing.

So there's a knock on the door; it's my new neighbour, he's locked himself out and can he climb across the roof from my kitchen?
Sure.
We introduce ourselves, shake hands and the guy is soon back in his flat.
Bollocks to the last two weeks.
Paranoia? Test of patience and character more like.
The guy really isn't much trouble.
But I might still move.
No neighbours is still better than good neighbours.
Guess I wouldn't fit in Australia. Then again, there was that guy from WA I worked with in the eighties; stock phrase?
"Yer nearest neighbour is fifty miles away - if you're unlucky!"
On hols from tomorrow. Pictures to follow in a couple of weeks.

It's All ABout Oil?

The USA is the world's biggest wheat exporter.
The Middle East is the world's biggest wheat importer.
Why go to war?
We could collapse the lot and starve them out in months.

Whose Side Are You On?

This is an article about the people who want to save everything.
But not poor people, apparently. After years of violent nursery school-type campaigning, they have finally forced the food companies to cut research.
And the result?
Food shortages.
Hitting the poor.
Fucking humanitarians?
Boil 'em in oil.

Don't Forget Now.

In the Yorkshire Post, a little reminder of absolute inspiration.

Carter - More Than Just Peanuts

When Carter took office in 1977 he ordered a review of the entire program. By this point the projected cost of the program had risen to over $100 million per aircraft, although this was lifetime cost over 20 years. He was informed of the relatively new work on stealth aircraft that had started in 1975, and decided that this was a far better avenue of approach than the B-1. Pentagon officials also stated that the ALCM launched from the existing B-52 fleet would give the USAF equal capability of penetrating Soviet airspace. With a 1,500 statute mile (2,400 km) range, the ALCM could be launched well outside the range of any Soviet defenses, and penetrate at low altitude just like a bomber, but in much greater numbers. A small number of B-52 operating outside interception range could launch hundreds of ALCMs, saturating the defense. A program to improve the B-52 and develop and deploy the ALCM would cost perhaps 20% of the price to deploy the planned 244 B-1A's.^[12]

On 30 June 1977 Carter announced that the B-1A would be cancelled in favor of ICBMs, SLBMs, and a fleet of modernized B-52s armed with ALCMs.^[7] Carter called it "one of the most difficult decisions that I've made since I've been in office." No mention of the stealth work was made public, the program being top secret, but today it is known that he authorized the Advanced Technology Bomber (ATB) project in early 1978, which eventually led to the B-2 Spirit.^[13]

Taken from Wikipedia, with thanks.

I Live And Learn.

When the bastards learn what it is that makes your life pleasant and dare I say, tolerable, they waste no time in trying to abuse this suspicion at their earliest opportunity.
So for example, if they suspect that your 'Invisible Sun' is writing on the www, or anywhere for that matter, they will try to cut your rights off at the knee.
Thus the power cut, to divorce me from my pursuits.
My responses?
Either remove their agent(the rapid route to criminalisation, so much easier in these days of no defence) or buy a UPS to restore my right defensively.
Which latter is the course I have chosen first.
Of course, Nat Taggart's option was to build a railway, and when the bastards tried to cut that right, he killed one.
Which worked in the 19th century. Or in the superlative fiction of Ayn Rand.
Of course, tomorrow I find out whether or not I have succeeded in delivering myself entirely from these life-forms' clutches.
Maybe it is just coincidence; but two weeks ago I was getting all excited about my first trip abroad in two years.
Then they hit me.
Again, as is so often the case when something good is on the horizon. And I don't agree with Frank Sinatra;that is not life. That is the chronic operating method of the bastards.
Well now. In another month I could be out of their reach again.
They aren't so numerous.
They also cannot or will not make much effort to hide.
Look for the out-of-place young creep, hanging around your street corner, clocking you and filing your face away for his bosses, finding you again. Not an ordinary type, a face far too cunning and busy to fit.
They have access to local authorities, they have access to electoral roles, they have access to bent business - there is much of this in Yorkshire, which is tied up pretty tightly by the bretheren.
I'm sure if I do get out, they will keep trying; but what to do? No neighbours, no chance, just the direct approach.
Which would be unwise of them. Even assuming they found me at all.
Filthy bastards that they are.

Renewed Purpose.

I went to see a new flat yesterday.
It is in the country, miles from the nearest town, with no immediate neighbours. I have expressed an interest.
Even if I don't get it, I have seen paradise, and it is real.
The loudest noise was the Swallows playing in the hedgerows. The flat costs the same as the one I'm in, and a mate at work lives nearby, so we'd share transport costs.
No neighbours.
No neighbours!
I'll keep an eye out for more of the same.

What Can I Say?

No, really. There's a lot of them about. The mewling, obsessive, creeping transient 'population' of Britain.
Nowhere else in the world is the desire to own ones own house so widespread, or so necessary, due to the endemic inability of the British psyche to leave other people the hell alone!
Obvoiusly, through all the years and all the sieges, no bastard has previously arrogated to itself the right to violate my rights to access the world by shutting off my power.

It probably won't happen again.
The fact that is happened at 11pm( the legal 'no loud music' hour) indicates that the life-form exists in thrall to some ideal of 'rules'. Not that I was listening to music. Just laughing at 'Big Bang Theory', and as we all know, laughter and enjoyment are the great satan of the British oppressive classes.
God help him if he does it again.
In any case I've bought an Uninterruptable Power Supply so my physical rights are safeguarded.

They're Heeere!

So the new tenant makes no effort to introduce itself.
Curtains drawn in furtive rejection, the keys jingle every time he goes in and out of the door.
And that is often.
Yes.
One of those.
Meanwhile at eleven in the evening my power goes off.
Total blackout.
In the street? The lights are on.
So I start down to the hall, and see a crack of light under the door.
Halfway down the power comes on again.
Much key-jangling and door-closing.
Oh dear. Who knows what pressures made the lovely previous tenants leave?
Is this creep part of the organisation?
Likely, since no exchanges have happened, no nuisance from me, just 'Wham!' straight in and my server is down.
On the other hand, there is an automatic power-out switch if an earth fault develops.
But then why would it come on again?
Why has it never happened before?
Why did it happen only after he went in the hall?
Maybe he was changing a fuse?
Take it easy.
And start looking for a non-shared property.

Make Common Cause Against Common Purpose

"What do you want?"
"Control"
"Where am I?"
"In Britain."
"Who are you?"
"We are Common Purpose."
"Who is Number One?"
"You are of interest."
"Whose side are you on?"
"That would be telling."
"I am not part of your plan!"
"Then you will fail."
"Fail in what?"
"In everything you try to do."
"I am a Free Man!"
"Those whom the gods wish to destroy, they first drive mad. Ha ha ha ha ha !"

Oxy-Morons.

Just thought I'd let you in on an interesting secret.
The British Libertarian Party only allows membership on approval, and then no other party membership is allowed.
This means, that they are trying to dismantle the state, and replace it with a 'Libertarian' Monopoly.

As George Orwell said, to paraphrase 'Animal Farm', "they looked from pig to human, human to pig, and they couldn't tell the difference any more..."

All hail to the Zanu-Libertarian Party.

Foreign Policy.

The Local Government Association was particularly critical of the binding targets imposed from Whitehall.

"Imposing centrally-decided unachievable targets may deliver new homes, but will not deliver communities," it warns.
- in the Yorkshire Post today.
What with all the controversy, should we engage in yet another 'nation-building' programme, especially in an area as sensitive and volatile as Great Britain, for years a defender of the Free West way of life?
Even now the indigenous populations of places such as London have expressed support for the more Conservative elements of their communities, where Boris El-Johnson has recently assumed leadership of the local authority.

Napster Is Shite.

Looking for 'that song'?
Don't look in Napster.
They only deal with Windows computers.
They will ask for all your personal information.
Their software will take over your computer.
You won't be able to uninstall it when you find that they don't even have what you wanted and cannot supply it.
Even if they did they would retain control.
They charge as much as a broadband account for their 'service'.
Their software is slow and rigid.
Their signing up process is slow, rigid and intrusive.

Napster- the cutting edge file-sharing service beloved of the 'end of the world' MSM- is nothing more than a power-and-money grab by a bunch of authoritarian control freaks.

I am now considering whether to reinstall windows or just hack the registry to remove their fixed software intrusion.
Obviously I've deleted what I can find.
It's what I can't find that worries me.

Sure. You Bet.

The Verdict, or How To Fix Hardy Heron Display

I've finally upgraded my Linux server.
Faced with the prospect of loss of support on Feisty Fawn, and tempted by the prospect of obtaining a five year support programme for nothing, I downloaded Hardy Heron Server from Ubuntu.
The success of the project was mixed and not without difficulties.
On Thursday I tried to back up all my music to a spare drive; much was lost and about halfway through I backed up only my essential files and cut to the chase.

The installation is superior to older versions. However, choosing 'Guided' partitioning resulted in a tiny partition with the Heron in a corner of the drive which had been spare. There was no sound, the video resolution (which was automatically configured ) was only 800x600 and very blocky, and Firefox wouldn't start. To compound matters there was no effective networking as I had given the new installation a duplicate name.

I rebooted to the (intact) Feisty Fawn and tried again Friday night.
This time I ran GParted Live to image the disk.
It took all night, and failed at the last moment to install a mount point on the destination disk.

On Saturday morning I installed anyway.
I was left with the faulty display, no sound and a system which, though partial, had been easy to install.
Particularly noteworthy was the reliability of downloading the iso file to Feisty and burning an image with a right-click.

All day I couldn't fix the display. I remembered an old Edgy Eft trick for sound; simply use Alsa Mixer to change the settings, which are all muted by default.
Fucking stupid thing to do on install, but there you are.
The display resolution was more of a problem.
The configuration in Heron is fully automatic, and the 'fixes' on the internet were typically clueless.
The configuration file was difficult to edit as all the entries now are non-specific.
However, I found the absolute king of fixes on the xorg website after several hours.
They said, "don't use displayconfig-gtk" a utility introduced with Gutsy Gibbon.
So I used it.
It had a list of practically every monitor ever made, including my ten-year-old CTX.
So I selected my monitor, and a list of the proper resolutions appeared; I applied the biggest, and now I have a beautiful, fully working installation.
My personal website was up and running (automatic server start on boot, another improvement) in a short while.

Setting up e-mail was easy, and getting the networking up was simply a matter of re-naming my XP computer (redundant systems make for better maintenance).

All I have to do now is take my time and rebuild my music collection. It's all legal CD Audio source anyway.

PS-: After two days, I am finding that the computer boots twice as fast and operations take place much faster; the directory structure now comes automatically with integrated Music and Document folders, which make filing much easier and less cluttered.
Rhythmbox absorbs new music on instruction without leaving behind key songs, although I haven't seen it auto-find like it used to.

The single negative factor is that when either the music player or the web-browser has ben playing sounds, the other is locked out of the soundcard.
Pity. Feisty used to play any mixture of sources simultaneously.

Red Ken

It's Ten PM Friday.
Still no result in the London Mayoral Election.
Is Livingston pulling a Zimbabwe?

Another Day, Another Headline.

Hardly a day goes by at the moment without somebody, somewhere, reporting the latest communist outrage.
The parade of the Olympic Torch in just about every place possible, wherever the communists have a chance of creating a lie, is the outrage which sees these criminals rubbing their denials in our faces, simply to see just how far the deceit will carry.

They pretend to the title of 'responsible', 'power', 'world class influence' and 'benign sponsor', but they do it in the cheapest and easiest ways they can; they don't mind if, behind the handshakes and smiles, they aren't taken seriously.
They just want to be taken at any rate, happy to bulldoze thought out of existence even in its home countries, mobilising their terrified student stooges with blackmail and the threat of death at home so that they must support the monstrousness.
Such has been the change in the attitude of the students, that I can only assume they are making a fearful play for equally insincere loyalty, having seen what a fake the West's pursuit of freedom is after Tiannenman Square, where they were abandonned by their sponsors here.

Now the tyrants enjoy a revolting popularity, only partly based on fear, mostly due to the lack of external hope, the lack of anywhere willing to let them stay as defectors, and the desperate clinging to the mantra of 'country right or wrong' as the sad consolation for their rejection by the West.
Indeed, the students find that their masters' attitudes are echoed by the authorities here, in an attempt to partition our culture into accepting 'two-systems, one world' .
The Chinese tyrants have swallowed our efforts, and are now vomiting them back at us in an attempt to overwhelm our outrage, while all the while real-politik is arranged to make them stronger and more indispensible by the hour.

They are a new Soviet Union; but this time they really do have the means to make our system collapse.

Send A Message.

We must all, cannabis users included, send Government a message.

Blood On Their Hands

Fuck China! Bring back Ronnie Reagan! Bombing begins in twenty minutes! Wipe the pile of shit called China off the face of the Earth! China is nothing but a breeding ground for diseases. Hell, China is a disease!
End the Chinese infection now!
Kick out the armies of Chinese Government-funded rioting sympathisers now!
Teach them nothing but bullshit!
Begin every lecture by denouncing evil, Red, Chinese communism.
(Do you think they'll ban my blog?)

Damn. Missed Him.

Many was the time I went into the old Florence Nightingale after a checkup at Jimmies.
I'd pop in and have a pint or two of Marstons Pedigree and the cook would ask me how I was going.
This used to be my neighbourhood.
I was known.
The people were sometimes great.
Sometimes not so great.
Sometimes they'd chase the coppers off.
Sometimes you'd see the trail of nose-blood on the pavements in the morning after somebody got a slap.
Then the council decided to implement a policy.
Like ice in the Sun, the rough and tumble community dissolved.
Thing is, in the bad old days, if you were local they left you alone.
Not on their own doorstep, so to speak.
God help anybody who started on a pensioner. That was the only time the police got co-operation.
We used to have drugged up kids.
Now we've got bloody life-forms that should be in Rampton.
I've left.
But I still remember a couple of addresses.

'Suffering'.

On the 'news' tonight, a woman who is about to finish her fixed-term mortgage and has to look for a new lender to try and find something comparably cheap.
She whined in the flat, oh-so-professional tone of the chronic complainant, about the terrible situation she is in of having to find more money.
She whined, surrounded by the fitted kitchen and the view across the countryside, and she demanded sympathy.
She can fucking die for all I care, and I hope she fucking does.
Suffering?
Lousy bitch.
I've rented for twenty years.
I've slept on benches.
I've slept in parks.
I never, never complained. I just got an extra job.
And people ask me why the British disgust me.

Did You Know?

It takes five million tonnes of Gold to produce 6 oz of beef? That's almost three oil tankers, or four Volkswagen Golfs.

Who?

So there I am, drinking a beer after my dinner, when my mobile rings.
It's some Welsh girl.
She starts rabbitting on about MobilesDirect or something similar, and how I could have extra minutes or this or that.
I say, no thank you, I'm quite happy as I am.
What does the little cow say?
Nothing.
The line goes dead.
Yer but no but!

Whoops!

News from repression central, is it good news?

If I Was 100 Years Younger....

Now this is what I call a woman!

Morons. Correction. Communist Morons.

Sky News?
"Prices are rising all over the world, causing food shortages..."
Moron.
Food shortage would cause price rise, not vice versa.
However, that way you can't accuse 'food profiteers' of 'starving people', right?

Gumment.

Arseholes won't let people be. They got a rule.

Fred's On Form Again.

Take look at Fred's latest article.

Honour.

By 1945, with the end in sight for the Germans, Donald was moved from one camp to another, eventually being liberated by fellow Scots from the Fife Yeomanry.

"It was unbelievable. They were accompanied later by the Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders. They asked us if any of the German guards had maltreated us. This one guard, Herman, had shot two of our people dead, so we told the Argyle Highlanders so they chased him up to the woods. Then we heard this 'trrrr! trrr!' and Herman was no more.

"It was one of those things that happened in war. Sadly not legal, but that was how it was."

- From the Yorkshire Post.

Honour Among Thieves.

They're gathering around the trough again.

SF Police Back Chinese Thugs.

Watch this video.( From the SF Chronicle ).

Quality Press

Not only does the William Randolph Hearst newspaper 'The San Francisco Chronicle' allow comments, but the standard of the commentary is quite high. Vastly superior to the milk-and-water in the Behind The Times.
Excellent.
Oh, and you can use a fake ID. But you must have a real e-mail to get the activation link.

The Vast Left Wing Conspiracy.

The Times of London, like the Toronto Star and the Daily Telegraph, has been blacklisted by this site after they continue to prevent me commenting on their allegedly 'public' comment sections.
I will be replacing them with three new papers, the LA Times and the San Francisco Chronicle, and the Yorkshire Post.

Bad News Everybody.

The Great Charlton Heston - star of the real Omega Man - is now the Late, Great Charlton Heston.
According to the New York Times, he died yesterday at the age of only 83.

Spice Boys - Wannabe.

They made martyrdom videos; so that's the hard part out of the way then.
All they have to do now is blow up the airliners.
With lucozade.
Yep.
Things could get a bit sticky at 30,000 feet.

NATO - The Paper Criminal.

When Winston Churchill started NATO, it was exactly as a challenge to the Russian leviathan which threatened every man woman and child in free Europe.

So it is an obscenity beyond comparison that last week NATO voted to kow-tow to Russia, taking the utterly cowardly and defeatist course of rejecting the Ukraine's application to join, while admitting two strategically and militarily useless 'allies' in the Balkans.

This cowardice could be expected of craven vassals in parts of the Russian Empire, but from an organisation dedicated to the defeat of Russian Expansionism, it is a criminal betrayal of the sole purpose for the existence of the organisation.

They are like a second-rate club which intends to meddle in minor affairs of state just so long as the big bullies aren't antagonised, being, as they are regarded, those psychopathic rogue states which must (God help us ) be appeased as in 1933.

Stupid bastards.

The fact that Germany voted against, is utterly incredible.
France's repeat of this error is downright ignorant, ignorant of history and the fact that the last time they did this, they spent four years occupied and enslaved by Nazis.

I am going to head West just as soon as I possibly can.

Go On!

The irony is that this woman is the only torch bearer bearing any torch worth a damn.

Unusual Approach To Cold Callers.

Absolutely brilliant. From 'Nanny Knows Best' Comment section.

Business As Usual In The Whorehouse.

Filthy Bastard.

I Wasn't Far Wrong.

According the Sky News, terminal 5 has 11 miles of luggage conveyors.

By The Way.

Better not quote me on the 14 miles figure, I may be mistaken.
It may only be 4.
Meanwhile, the nutters on the British Airways site seem to have entirely forgotten that nobody wants to go to an airport.
They want to go to a destination.
Got that, you ground-bound, desk-jockeying BA dumb-asses?

Just In Case

The new Heathrow Terminal 5; as soon as I heard that it contains 14 miles of conveyors, I thought "fucked".
That's several thousand conveyors, all custom made and untested by long runs at capacity.
A disaster waiting to happen.
Suppose there are 1000 conveyors with 99% reliability. That's 10 conveyors broken down at any one time.
Of course the engineers probably didn't use redundancy or critical path analysis.

Essentially that's £4.3 billion for a corrugated iron shed. As much as the Channel Tunnel.
Of course, BAA is a London monopoly. So they don't have to be efficient.
Equally, the gifting of an entire terminal to British Airways is a timely reminder that it is the 'flag carrier'.
This is supposed to give (unfair) competitive advantage to BA, and restore their monopoly status, presumably prior to a future re-nationalisation.
Socialism by stealth, the hallmark of this bunch of lying cheats known collectively as the government.

I mean, how do you spend £4.3 billion on a shed?
They were probably told to bankrupt themselves the way the government bankrupted Railtrack, so that they could be nationalised as well.

What a disgusting, stinking crime.

Tank Of The Day.

Actually this was the tank of many days.I can't call it the ultimate 'Cold Warrior', because it saw far too much hot action.
A lesser known fact about the Centurion is that in the fifties it was the first tank to be (experimentally) powered by gas turbine.
It was designed in WW2 as the ultimate answer to the panzers, but arrived too late.
It went on to define the role 'Main Battle Tank', thus ending the split between 'Infantry' and 'Cruiser' tanks.
Here we see a couple of early examples.

Hey Ted, Who's Getting A Bloody Good Thrashing Now?

Olympic Fucking Farce anybody?

Free Tibet.

Are ye fer the cause?

Curiously Difficult.

Reuters? No.
The Times? No.
Google? No.
How to find the current price of an ounce of gold.
Very, very difficult.
It is almost as though somebody has something to hide.
What's the big secret? It's only gold.
I found, eventually, that an ounce of gold sells for about £494 at the moment.

I had to go to an old route I remembered from years ago, the Commodities section of the New York Times, for which you have to register.
But at least it is free.
There used to be another site, but googling can't dig it up.
I'll post it if I rediscover it.

St.Patricks Day.

Paddy is drinking on St. Pat's day in Mick's bar.
He is very drunk.
"Go on, Mick, give me one more drink..."
"No Paddy, you've had enough."
"Go on Mick, just one for the road."
"Alright, just one."
Paddy drinks up, slams his glass down on the counter, and falls off his stool, lying flat on his back.
He gets to his feet and staggers drunkenly towards the door.
He falls over again, feeling unwell.
"If I can just get to the fresh air" he thinks.
He gets up, gets to the door, but once outside he takes a deep breath and falls flat on his face.
Lying in the street he sees his house a few doors down.
"I'll make it"
He takes another few steps and falls flat again.
"Damn. So I'll have to crawl."
He reaches his front door. Crawls up the stairs to his bed.
Falls flat on the bed and falls asleep.

In the morning his wife comes in with a coffee.
"So you were out drinking at Mick's again were you?"
"Darling, how'd you know?"
"That was Mick on the phone. You left your wheelchair behind."

No Dissent Will be Tolerated - China

Fuck off you red communists bastards.
Free Tibet Now!

Insight.

Watching the television advert previews for this film, I suddenly realised what a load of crap 'horror' movies are.
They are based on one, single premise - namely, life in the 'fear of death'.

Now I'm not one to welcome death, but life in the fear of death is rather pathetic, the cowards approach to blagging life from the jaws of nothingness.
Death isn't the end of life; if you are a mummy or a daddy, your life goes on in your kids.
But if you are a game player then it is the end of the game, and that is something which horrifies those feeble creatures that do nothing but delay, delay, delay, putting off judgement and action until the end.
Death is the end, and that terrifies them.

Personally, the threat of death makes me angry.
Many years ago, the presumption of enemies who were deluded into threatening me with death, in the misguided belief that I would feel fear, actually drove me nuts; I became so incapable of expressing my rage that I went mad.

This wouldn't have happened in a country with guns.
There would have been a few dead, wet faggots and I would have strolled on(apart from legal considerations - oops) but you get the picture.
Today we live in a world where we are supposed to be conditioned to fear death, all so that in-crowd wankers can imagine that they rule us with fear.

It would be funny if it wasn't so weird.

I Say, Darling...

Alistair Darling.
I mean, what sort of pathetic cunt would have grey hair but dye his eyebrows?
I mean, fuck off!
Are we really supposed to take this sort of prick seriously?
He's a walking insult to the very concept of importance, and this little weirdness of eyebrow vanity is the false note that the bastard waves in our faces even as he obliterates lives with his jackbooted dictats, like a holocaust where every body has to laugh politely while having their throats cut.
Vomit!

Interesting

Fred's On Form.

Here.

New York, New York!

I just saw a great movie from the seventies.
It was set in New York, and I could practically taste the place.
Absolutely superb.
What was it?
The Taking of Pelham 123!
Made in 1974, it starred Walter Matthau and Robert Shaw, one the cop, the other the crim. The whole thing was gripping, I just had to watch from beginning to end.
Oddly enough, I first saw it at school; back then we had a movie enthusiast teacher who used to arrange for the entire school to watch in the Hall of an afternoon.
Two other films we saw were the Italian Job and the Ipcress File.
This was in the days before VHS of course, so it was quite an undertaking to bring a cellulose copy into the school and put it on a projector, but they did it.

But- the Taking Of Pelham 123 was simply class, a true work of entertainment, with all the tension and excitement of a real adventure; superb acting from a superb cast, and the original film to use 'Mister Blue/Green/Grey' for the criminal names, never mind miserable 'iconic' style-exercises such as Reservoir Dogs.
This was the original.

We Won In The End.....Right?....Didn't We?

From the New York Times, a story about golf courses in Vietnam.
Pay attention to the completely unconscious use of the bastard phrase, 'managed capitalism'.
There is no such thing.
'Managed capitalism' is Communism, pure and simple, in the only form it has ever existed.
The fact that the writer uses the phrase dutifully and without even batting an eyelid, demonstrates the depth of their victory over us and their growing, universal dominance.

The chickens have been set off yapping, and as they run about the Communists smile and wait for the inevitable chaos while enslaving the world by degree, with the patience of the truly insane, only acting to reinforce the fencing of the chicken pen when the pressure of swaying masses builds up; such is their 'management'.
Got to keep the loonies on the path.
The shining path, that is.

Thought For the Week.

Today we exist in a state of confusion.
The confusion is designed, designed to mask the reality that will assert itself in every way, including economic and political.
In 1982 the world marvelled at the 'Comeback King', the Empire putting up a fight and reversing the reversal in the Falklands.
After that time, Western, Freedom-loving people dared to think that some things were worth defending, worth fighting for.
Again in 1990, in the Gulf, the same people decided that in the new climate of victory, intervention to prevent oppression and monopoly of our strategic interests was acceptable, desirable even.

In 1990, nobody even pretended it wasn't about oil, so no wicker man could be burnt to kill Freedom.

Then in the 90s, a different kind of politician took over.
'Hey guys, now it's our turn'.
And so it was.
They deliberately garbled the policy of the recent past, turning the defence of freedom, then the defence of interests, into the pursuit of 'stability'.

Maggie's defence of Liberty and Self-Determination became the promotion of minority causes everywhere, backed up by criminal repression exercised by NATO.
Where once we had limited, rational aims, now we had blank-cheque war in order to further furry animal-loving aims throughout the infantilised parts of the West, the nurseries growing the Communists of tomorrow for a bridge to yesterday.

Their soul-brethren in Al-Quaida provided further impetus to the neverending war story, by their terrorist attack on New York; even within days, Bush W was promising a generation of war.
Thus granting the terrorists precisely that status they had been seeking.
Defeat piled on defeat, in other words.
The armies were beaten by the fact that they marched.

Today the British military are abused by the public when they appear in uniform.
Brown-job says they should be respected.
We will respect them again, perhaps, when they are no longer murder-tarts doing the bidding of a political class that should be sectioned and forcibly treated.

We won't regard them as a disgrace when you have stopped disgracing them.

Tank Of The Day.

Developed from the Cruiser Tanks, then the Cromwell, these tanks were in service in the late war and afterwards.
The top one was a massively up-gunned and up-turreted version exported to the Iraqi Army in more conducive days; the bottom example is a Comet Tank, with a 76 mm high power gun, similar to the 17-pounder but not actually the 17-pounder (as I understand it). It is presented in Berlin Victory Parade colours and trim.

The Boys Are Back In Town.

Good, clean fun.
Obviously he isn't a murderer.
Obviously he isn't a terrorist.
Presumably it is political, in the most direct sense.
Any thoughts?
(Oh, and be careful- this particular page hijacks your browser for several seconds- presumably the Department of Homeland Paranoia trying to do a bit of hacking.)

Never Give Up.

It's Official!

Britain's pretence at democracy is a fraud.

Tory Peeve - Sorry, 'Peer'.

It's horrible, horrible, they, they, they're......alive. Boohoohoo, mummy mummy, make them stop!

Say What You Like...

About the 'Royal' family, and I do.
I'm a Republican.
But young Harry Windsor has shown grit - and integrity - in putting his life on the line in Helmand.
Not just another chocolate soldier.

Tank Of The Day.

Two pictures of two different Sherman Tanks.
The one at the top, 'Michael', never saw action; it was the very first lend-lease M4 to reach Britain, and was put on public display.
Note the rounded hull design, due to the fact that it was cast.
The later version below has the boxy, welded hull.
I can't be sure because the gun goes out of frame, but it may well be the Sherman Firefly equipped with the 17-Pounder anti-tank gun, reputedly the best allied anti-tank gun of the war.

Resistance Is Useless.

The Vogon authorities caught up with this man.
As reported in the London Times.

Another Interesting Take.

Also from the New York Times.




Look closely at these two faces.
We are led to believe that they have something to celebrate by the fact that they are smiling.
But the one on the right is smiling like an idiot. He has sold his face to the purpose of pretending, the purpose of projecting an absolutely unbridled congratulation that seeks to persuade viewers to respond in kind by the sheer violence of expression it forms.

The face on the left is more honest, but less appealing.
The face on the left is discomforting, because it looks to be a hair's breadth away from a sneer, a sneer of superiority at having put something over on people.
It is the face of contempt, impossible to hide completely, and as such it betrays danger to the cause of Freedom, danger because the owner of the expression is betraying true feeling and thoughts concerning those he is attempting to convince.
That face shows no unbridled congratulation, only unbridled arrogance and derision; he is the sort of person who in an instant would fluidly attack any weakness by whatever scratching would penetrate our indifference.
I have seen that sort of face many times.
That the owner of this particular face is a (successful) presidential candidate is sobering.
Not exactly encouraging is it?

Interesting Take.

This from a Briton reported by the New York Times.

But I Don't Have One Of These. Yet.

I think the second one would have very few problems with traffic.

I Now Have One Of These.

Good News.

This from Djomama.
A reason to produce hope.

Tank Of The Day.

Two, different examples of the KonigsTiger, the King or Royal Tiger tank, the Tiger 2.
The one at the top has the so-called Porsche turret, which was actually a pre-production turret with a 'shot-trap' which was eliminated in the production model shown below.
A very potent tank, with sloped, heavy armour, and an 88 mm gun which was more powerful than the anti-aircraft version, a custom-made tank gun in fact.(Or so I believe-you can always look it up on wikipedia)

Pay Monkeys - Get Peanuts.

A rather good article from the Times Of London today.

Pay Monkeys - Get Peanuts.

A rather good article from the Times Of London today.

Pay Peanuts-Get Monkeys.

Tank Destroyers Of The Week.

The Russian approach- and SU100 with a 100 mm gun.

The German approach- a JagdTiger, with a 128 mm gun, the thickest and heaviest armour to see active service in any meaningful sense. 88 of these were built.

Again, a German approach; the Hetzer was built in captured Czechoslovakia by Skoda, and combined many useful qualities in the service of evil.

The American approach; an M10 tank destroyer in Winter camouflage.


A couple of sixties British hard-hitters; punching way out of their class due to guided missiles.

A HUGE British tank destroyer from world war 2, which never saw service because it kept demolishing roads and bridges. Even the side skirts are about three inches thick.

This is Quite Good.

The Times of London has an interesting collection of cartoons today.

Thanks To 'Chase Me Ladies..."

A Message To The Chancellor.

A Blokes Bloke.

I know, I know, he's French and that poof Castro likes him, but Gerard Depardieu is the sort of guy I'd have a drink with, and I'd like him on my side if things got sticky, even though he's Froggy.

Move Over Darling.

Darling, I didn't know you cared.
Now you're going to nationalise Northern Rock? So we all have to pay for those useless bastards' greed and incompetence?

Be Quiet Darling.

Darling, must you talk such utter rubbish about the City?
You don't know how it works; all you could ever do is stop it from working.
When bankers pay themselves huge bonuses, it is because they have been good enough at their jobs to make huge amounts of money.
Just because you don't know how Darling doesn't mean they shouldn't.
And I'll bet none of them dyes their eyebrows to look weird.
Still, gets in the weird vote doesn't it?
Now off you go Darling and cook lunch. The vicar is calling later after hearing Gordon's confession.

Perspective Check.

In 1999 the USA went to war in Kosovo to protect Muslims from Serbian Nationalist bigot persecution.
Then came 911.
What has to be remembered here is that the terrorists deliberately chose the USA, as the IRA chose the British Army fraternising at Catholic pubs, in order to drive a wedge in between friendly peoples.
By creating emnity where none actually exists, they hope to antagonise both sides in such a way as to produce generations of conflict, with false polarisation.

Listening to some of the racialist screed that pollutes the ether, they have had some success.

Face it!
When a Muslim talks of establishing a Caliphate, he is doing nothing more than preaching.
We won't be building a 'New Jerusalem in England's Green and Pleasant Land' anytime soon, either.
So pack it in.
The terrorists are just a pack of savage little maggots trying to create a conflict in their own demented image; any excuse will do.