Archive for March, 2010

Ending it all

March 17th, 2010

An horrendous thing happened to me the other night, and I haven’t slept much since.

It has depressed me beyond your wildest imagination.

It started with a simple visit to the coffee shop.  There were some tourists who pissed me off so I decided to send them to meet their ancestors.  I nipped back to the car, and then it happened.  I realised that I had left all my hunting equipment at home.  I drove home as fast as I could but by the time I got back to the village the feckers had gone.

This has never happened to me before.  My quarry has always ended in the quarry, and the vision of those bastards who got away will haunt me to my dying day.

I have decided it’s because I am getting old.

I knew this day would come eventually, and have already made the appropriate arrangements.  I am already a member of Dignitas and have informed my solicitor that I am quite prepared to make my own choice about the date and manner of my exit from this life.  The one thing I refuse to even contemplate is the vision of myself sitting in the corner of some Old Folk’s Home, dribbling, pissing and shitting myself and mumbling incoherently about the good old days.  And if anyone says that is the way I am now, you can go fuck off.

My arrangement are quite comprehensive.

I already have my open ended one way tickets to Switzerland.  I need two tickets, because I have to be accompanied, apparently.  I have arranged a surprise trip for Herself here.  She has always said she wanted to visit Switzerland.  There is no point in her returning to Ireland as, in the old Celtic tradition, I shall be burning my house to the ground before I leave, so I will be booking Herself into Dignitas at the same time.  Actually, rather than burning the house down, I shall be using Semtex and Nitro Glycerine as I intend to go with a bang.  I had better warn the neighbours to start looking for alternative accommodation beforehand?

So there you have it.

I shall be winding this site up shortly and shall be taking my one way trip.

…..

But there again, I have just remembered that trip to the coffee shop was after forty eight hours without sleep……

Maybe on second thoughts, I’ll postpone Switzerland for a while.

I’m off out now.

Today is the biggest day in the sporting calendar.

Religion and Faith

March 16th, 2010

I was raised a Catholic back in the ‘50s and ‘60s.

I went through the whole gamut – convent education up to primary level, and the the Brothers for the rest.  As a result, I had the full works when it came to the brain washing game.  I was taught that the Catholic Church had the only direct line to God, and that everyone else was doomed.  I was taught that the Catholic Church was the only voice of truth, and that religious people were next to God himself.

Then I grew up.

I began to think for myself.  I began to question an organisation that preached poverty, yet lived in sumptuous mansions and whose head lived in one of the most sumptuous palaces on the planet.  Then the simple truth hit me.  It was so simple that it was blindingly obvious – the Catholic Church has absolutely sweet fuck all to do with Christianity.  It is merely a big business whose main objective in life is to dominate and hold power.

That is why I can now watch the likes of Sean Brady without feeling anything other than contempt.

This slimeball is slithering and sliming around denying any wrongdoing despite that fact that he aided and abetted one of Irelands worst rapists and paedophiles.  The deluded cunt actually believes his own lies – that he is a man of God and can therefore do no wrong.  I feel sorry for the people who believe in his lies.  They are deluded too.

I don’t believe in religion.  I don’t believe in a God who demands rituals and praying by rote.  I don’t believe in a God who demands that we dress in certain ways, or chant meaningless words that have been memorised since childhood and have long since lost their meaning.

I believe in faith.  I have my own faith which is personal.  It doesn’t have any organisation behind it, because I don’t believe I should be taught how or what to believe in.

If I were a follower of Richard Dawkins [which I’m not] I would use the argument that the Catholic Church is the greatest proof that God does not exist, for if God existed, would he tolerate such a corrupt, deluded, power crazy mob using His name to further their ends?

Brady is a pathetic immoral nonentity who should be treated with the contempt that he deserves, along with all the rest of the mob who covered up the evils that the Catholic Church bestowed upon our nation, and most other nations on earth.  I couldn’t give a shit whether he resigns or not.  He is no more relevant to me than any other manager in any other big money making corporation on this planet.

Fuck him.

Thoughts on spring

March 15th, 2010

My whole world collapsed over the weekend.

It was absolutely devastating, but these thing happen, and you just have to roll with them.

I have a favourite armchair.  I have had it for years, and it is extremely comfy.  It has nicely moulded itself to my contours and over the years, we have exchanged molecules so that I am part chair and it is part me.

I was sitting there minding my own business, when there as a bang, and I descended.

Yes.  I went down in the world.  The fucking chair had broken.

I spent a day in my lower position, pondering my lower perspective of the world and I felt rather nervous.  If one whatever-it-was can break, then so can the others.  Was it just a matter of time before I ended on the floor?

In the end, I upended the chair and cut the bottom off to take a look inside.  There was quite a lot in there.  There was a lot of dust and fluff, a dead mouse, two slices of pizza [I don’t know how they got there as I do not like pizza], several paper clips, €3.27 in small change and a broken spring.  Yup – the steel spring had snapped.

I haven’t the vaguest idea where you can buy those springs, so I decided that rather than drive myself demented trying to buy a new one, that I would repair the old one.  That is not quite as easy as you may think, as I don’t happen to have a welding torch, and anyway that just would have burned my chair to a crisp.

Any man worth his salt will tell you that one of the most vital things to have around the house is a Vice Grip and a few old wire coat hangers.

I set to work.

chair fix

I’m quite proud of my efforts.

My binding tried to thwart me by slipping off, so I had to add some bits to stop any sideways movement, but as feats of engineering go, I think it’s up there with the Forth Bridge and the Hoover Dam?

I’m sitting back in my chair now.  I have gone back up in the world.

Spring may not have arrived yet, but it is fixed.

Anyone for a free holiday?

March 14th, 2010

I have nothing against Paddy’s Day itself.  It’s one day of the year when I don’t have to think up a reason to have a few pints.

They have lost the run of themselves again though, in typical Irish fashion.

No longer content with a few blokes wandering down O’Connell Street following a couple of geezers wheezing on some bagpipes, we now have to have a fucking festival.

Again, I have nothing against festivals, and am quite prepared to watch a few very scantily clad women develop frostbite for my delectation, but let’s not lose the run of ourselves?  All these damned American ‘pipe bands’ and Rio de Janeiro type floats are just going too far.  There is nothing Paddy’s Day about them?

The Paddy’s Day Festival kicked off with a grand fireworks display down in Limerick.  I suppose that had to find some way of disposing of all the explosives they had found down there, and it makes a change from murdering each other, but has no one notice the incongruity of the title?  Paddy’s Day festival?  Paddy’s Day isn’t until Wednesday, for fuck’s sake, and they start it on a Saturday?

Once again, I have nothing whatsoever against people enjoying themselves, and if that were the extent of it, then let people get pissed and beat each other up in the streets – that’s part of modern society – but what really pisses me off are the crowd who haul in on the back of all this frivolity.

The main criminals are our Glorious Government.  This is their annual holiday at the taxpayers’ expense.  They see this as a glorious excuse to jet off the the far flung corners of the earth on the pretext of drumming up trade.  Has one single job ever been created by these jaunts?  Are foreign companies so fucking gullible that they will set up in Ireland because some fucking minister bought them a pint on Paddy’s Day.  Fuck off!!

I notice that these ‘trade missions’ are very nicely located.  Auckland?  Sydney?  New York?  Tokyo?  Very nice, at this time of year.  Most are heading off for a week or so, but of course Harney has to have 15 fucking days in New Zealand with her husband.  And these little jollies are all paid for by the taxpayer, who was recently told that there is no money left, and that we all have to pay extra to solve the financial crisis.

A small thing that irritates me about this time of year is the insistence of barmen at scribing a shamrock on the head of a pint of Guinness.  What the fuck is that all about?  Do they think we are all fucking tourists who are going to melt at the Irishness of it all?  They’ll be giving away fluffy leprechauns and floppy green hats next.  It is fucking embarrassing.  Wankers.

At this time of year, our local barman Pullit always draws a neat penis on the heads of the pints he pulls.

Now, he has the right idea.

Apologising

March 13th, 2010

When people cock up, why can’t they admit it?

Our Glorious Government categorically refuse to admit that they fucked up our economy with their tax breaks for builders, and their turning a blind eye to the bank’s activities.  Oh no.  It was the downturn in the global economy that caused our crash and they are all squeaky clean.

Our wonderful rail crowd refuse to admit that they fucked up an inspection of a railway bridge on the main Dublin to Belfast line [which subsequently collapsed].  Oh no.  It was fucking Global Warming!!!!

Our Catholic Church cannot understand why we are annoyed with them for covering up their decades of child abuse, buggery and rape.  It’s the fault of the media, or the work of the devil himself.  It’s nothing to do with them though.  Squeaky clean.

Every daily fiasco in this banana republic is blamed on someone else.  They spend more time trying to find who to blame than they do trying to find the root cause of the problem.

Why?

What is so fucking difficult about admitting you were wrong?

I got a comment on a piece I scribbled last week.  I thought it was spam because of the name of the user – The South of France Guide, and I sent a rather rude reply.  It transpired that they were a genuine commenter, and they wrote to me and said they were not best pleased.  I can’t say I blame them.  I wrote back and apologised, and I hope they accept that apology, though I can’t blame them if they don’t.

I hold my hand up and admit I made a mistake.  I was dog tired on the day, and that is a bad time to make hasty decisions.  I fucked up.

Or there again….

it could have been Global Warming?

« Prev - Next »