Cavan man dies at 115
Grandad April 23rd, 2008
Serves the fucker right.
He should have been doing about 60 down that stretch of road.
Archive for April, 2008
The Lisbon Treaty and the Looney Left
Grandad April 22nd, 2008
The miracle has happened.
Not only did I receive my copy of the National Disaster Handbook [I am so relieved] but I also got a copy of the government thing on the Lisbon Treaty.
I have been taking some interest in that treaty, and have even gone so far as to try to read the original. I say ‘try’ because it is the most convoluted and badly written document I have seen in quite a while. What’s more, it is deliberately confusing.
I have a lot of major reservations.
First and foremost, it is an extremely vague document. From what I can gather, it is effectively handing the powers that be in Brussels a blank cheque to roll in other legislation without reference to the population. It is the final signing away of our rights.
The general trend is towards a centralised government that controls all member states. It is a watering down of local power. I have no love for the current government, but at least they were put there by the Irish and can be kicked out by the Irish. It is considerably harder to kick out some nameless faceless crowd in the EU.
When Ireland first joined back in 1973, it was called the EEC – The European Economic Commission. The idea was to reduce trading barriers between member states and promote economic cooperation. A laudable aspiration. But now it has spread its wings into every aspect of control including taxation and law. This treaty enshrines that even further.
Then there is the fact that it is a constitution. They can call it a treaty, but that is mere semantics. If there is a practical difference, then someone please enlighten me.
So far, I have neither seen nor heard a cohesive argument as to why I should vote yes on this. All we get is vague statements and obfuscation. We are told [by vested interests] that it will be ‘good for us’ but we are not told why. Barosso was asked directly in an interview what the treaty would do for Ireland. His response was that Ireland had done very well out of Europe. What kind of fucking answer is that? When he was pushed for an answer, he failed to come up with one.
I will certainly not be putting my name to a document that I don’t understand. I will not be bullied by a twerp who tries to insult me into voting yes by saying that “we will ruin ourselves and we’ll go under sea and that we’ll succeed in doing what St Patrick didn’t do by bringing the water all over Ireland, and every other nonsense” [Bertie, of course] and that the only people voting no will be “loo-las of every kind and shape who advocated loony-left policies” [Bertie again].
I don’t trust Bertie. I don’t trust the government. I don’t trust the treaty.
I have more than a feeling in my water that this ‘treaty’ will be bad for Ireland.
I will be voting a resounding NO.
The last resort
Grandad April 21st, 2008
It was a funny old day yesterday.
The first thing I noticed when I got up was the beautiful sound of Spring.
I opened the windows to listen to the blackbirds, the finches, the doves and the gunfire.
The gunfire sounded interesting, so I went down to the village to get the paper. Sure enough, the villagers had caught themselves a tourist bus, and the tourists had tried to take refuge in the church. That was foolish, because everyone knows our church is closed on a Sunday.
So I racked up my score a bit, and went home.
Last night, Herself got a bit stroppy because I was cursing at the Interweb and saying rude things about servers that blow up, so I locked her in the coal hole and went for a pint.
Pullit served me my pint and we got chatting.
“What was that all about this morning?” I asked. “It’s a little early in the year for large tourist buses?”
“Did you not hear?” said Pullit. “Some feckin’ eejit has put out a brochure advertising this village as a tourist attraction.”
“Who would do that?” I said, though I knew it was just the kind of stunt Pullit would pull.
He looked all innocent. “I haven’t a clue. But we’re in for an interesting summer.”
“What does the brochure say?”
He went off to get me another pint and when he came back he slapped a brochure on the counter.
It was beautifully printed. There were lovely photographs of the village which had been nicely enhanced to make the place look quite attractive. There was a fancy little map showing how to get here. Of course, the pub had a nice little feature spot of its own.
“It’s going to be a good summer,” I said.
“Aye,” Pullit replied. “Plenty of sport.”
Printed across the front in nice Celtic lettering was the title.
Grandad has shifted
Grandad April 20th, 2008
Head Rambles has moved. It hasn’t moved far, but it needed a new home.
As with all moves, a few things got broken. I smashed that nice bone china tea set I got from Auntie Aggie, and a few things got dented.
I had to whip out the Super Glue and everything seems to be now fixed.
One or two of you may have called during the move, in which case you would have seen the mess. Sorry about that.
So, I hope you like my new home.
You may find one or two other ornaments that were cracked in the move. If you do, just let me know.
I will leave the windows open to try to clear the smell of fresh paint.
Update: Had a little ‘woops’ moment [well, quite a few moments].
The floor caved in and the site broke. Fucking builders!! You can’t trust anyone these days.
One for the road
Grandad April 19th, 2008
They are talking about reducing the blood alcohol levels for drivers again.
They want to reduce it from 80mg to 50mg.
This is going to cause the usual confusion with recalibrating the analysers and people are going to get around the law through legal loopholes once more.
Why don’t they just reduce the limit to zero? That way, if the analyser beeps at all, then you’re caught. Simple. One sniff of a cork from a sherry bottle and you’re fucked. Make it simple.
And they should remove the licences from any pubs that have car parks. That also will discourage drink driving.
I was thinking about this the other night.
It is amazing the clarity of thought I have when driving home through the dark country roads with eight pints of stout under my belt.
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