Plus Ca Change, Plus C'est La Meme Chose

The more things change, the more they remain the same.
A news article on the BBC started tonight with the announcement that some guy, the prime minister's 'Change Secretary' or something with the word 'change' in his title, had resigned.

This stinking pile of filth which is the British government has appointed more cronies to fake positions with grandiose-sounding titles than any other state in history. It's as if the Soviet state had taken over and then taken drugs which caused an explosively virulent cancer, making the body politic swell and inflate beyond all control or recognition.

There is no longer any use of the word 'sleaze'. Sleaze belongs to an age where moral outrage was faked over trifles, to bring about the encumbency of the present heap of shit. What we have now is the gradual inability to hide any longer the rampant, stampeding riot of little boys and girls that have suddenly realised that they are in mummy's bedroom and daddy's study, and they have gone away no-one knows where.

Like dogs, they instinctively sniff and choke when they meet a scent they cannot fathom. Usually the scent of a Man.
On a personal level, I see job descriptions, where the title might be 'software engineer', but the job is baffling and unconnected to any technical skills, usually paying much more than any market rate and as near as can be told, demanding social skills and the ability to understand the (public sector employer's) private verbal messages.
There are thousands of jobs like this, the legion of the useless busybodying their way into prosperity and safety and influence and property, all at the increasing expense of the diminishing real work force.
Not that I would apply, but I could not in a thousand years get such a job if I tried.

For example, I walked into a college yesterday for a public lecture. What did I see? On the way up from the car park, a nasty, grey, shabby little old man, probably a lecturer, coughs (from behind of course) with such a fakeness and tone that he actually seems to believe he is expressing ssomething; this is the ultimate reaction to a human being, this supposedly 'unanswerable' critique-by-dint-of-saying-nothing.
Obviously I say, 'my god, look what they're letting into these places'.
When I get to the lecture hall I see a notice board, plastered with communist propaganda posters; this is a history department.

I have more than a passing suspicion that youngsters are being taught to frame their world views in such terms.
If civilisation is to survive, the 'Gulch' time may be here.

Business is slow.

All's Well

I go down to the town centre pub at lunchtime and have a pint of whatever special they're running.

It's strictly no children and today's was Theakstons Best.

The thing is, when you go to this pub you see the usual mix; but there's a high proportion of middle-aged guys like me, wearing inappropriate casual clothes, unshaven and generally letting it all hang out in their beery corners.

We chat up the lovely serving girls, none of us with any serious chance, but enjoying the light-hearted flirting and taking in the scenery.

When I got home, I saw a loony Christian on TV talking about his experience of Jesus Christ.

Fucking nutcase.

Be Seeing You

I Must Escape.

I have been the victim of mental illness all my life.
Other people's mental illness.
I MUST escape.
I find the thought that I might actually begin to understand the English quite frightening. Because understanding is only a short step from empathy, which is only a short step from sympathy.

Which is the Stockholm syndrome.

I Need To Take A Shower.

It's Really Very Simple.

The beautiful Afro-English girl, 20 years old, accused by a sick, communist regime of carrying some Heroin(so what?), has been raped and is now pregnant.
They threatened to shoot her.
It is really very simple.
Send a coded maessage to all our diplomats to drive across the border.
Then send a detachment of Paras(sorry, no longer trust the Marines) down to the Laotian Embassy and take them all prisoner.
Then threaten to shoot all of them if she isn't released. At the rate of one a day, finishing with the Ambassador, or if we wait a few days, the Laotian Minister.
I guarantee the crisis would end, and Gordon Brown would win the next election.

Come Again?

All the labour ministers seem to be agreed on one thing; 'we cannot seem to get our message across to the public'.
This is rubbish of course.
The fact is(and I'm sure that they find this 'horrifying'), that they have indeed succeeded brilliantly in getting their message across. And their crappy message is what is being rejected.

They have been deluding themselves for so long without any success, they seem to think that by deluding us as well, some imaginary success will follow.

Well I've got news for them.
We don't like them, we don't like their messages, and we are tired of listening.

Microsoft Gets It Wrong

Trying out Internet Explorer 8; much quicker and more responsive than the last disaster.
Another good idea is the ability to edit (remove) browser list entries manually.
However, they have got this badly wrong.
They have a delete button on each line at the right.
If you are used to scrolling down the list on the right, you will not select the destination, you will delete it.
They should have done it with a right-click option.

Why Google Sucks.

Google installs viral software on windows systems.
When it is unistalled, it causes system crashes.
This is childish, unprofessional vandalism.
Since removing the google toolbar from my IE, it is faster and more responsive. And doesn't have lousy, unwanted fascist input on each and every page by virtue of corruption of the design.

Oh, Darling!

Darling really has come up with the most pathetic subterfuge today.

Apparently, spending is now called 'investing', so that we can confidently expect him to 'invest' £6 billion more in the health service; he doesn't mention anything about ROI(Return On Investment) or even whether we can expect improving mortality rates from this( a presumed Government ROI), so I guess he's just talking through his arse as usual to give his hinterland of useful idiot followers something to parrot in the imaginary discussions that he supposes these fools to influence.

Of course, nobody is giving either airtime or credence to the regiments of fools any longer, so he is beginning to resemble a man whose insanity is driving him to build a brick wall around him with no doors or windows, from the demolished wreckage of the society he inherited, and is now spinning round in smaller and smaller circles of denial like a latter-day Hitler in a bunker of social insulation rather than concrete.

Talking of concrete, I have to wonder what, if any, the effects of this miserable budget will be.

"It's for your own good!"

The Toronto Sun 'Sunshine Girl'.

This is Lesly from 19th April.
I like Canada.

The Time Is Approaching

I Can Finally Reveal....

I am in fact a super-hero who has beeen around since the thirties.

In Case You Don't Understand America.

The Giant Prison

Hero of the Revolution.

Traitor.

Fucking bastard.

Let It Be Said....

Truly, Gordon Brown, the sub-prime minister, is a skidmark on the underpants of history.

When the world finally carries out its laundry, he will be washed away in a stream of lukewarm suds tastier than the beer at a New Labour wedding.