Archive for May, 2010

The Third Reich is imminent

May 10th, 2010

I used to be pro-European.

When we joined the EEC, I was a happy camper.  I thought that the concept of European countries trading together was a good thing.  I was proud to be part of it.

How utterly fucking wrong I was.

The real rot started with the Lisbon Treaty.  I was appalled at the bully-boy manner in which it was forced on every country apart from Ireland.  I was appalled at the lies and propaganda that cheated the Irish into going along with it.  It was dictatorship under the guise of false democracy.

Now we have the trouble in Greece.

I have no problem with helping people when they are in trouble.  When a country like Haiti is hit by a disastrous earthquake then it is the human thing to respond.  The Haitians didn’t ask for that earthquake – they were victims of nature.  Greece is a different matter.  If the Greeks are in trouble it is their own fucking fault, in the same way that our financial problems are as a direct result of our voting that corrupt shower of Fianna Fail wankers into power so often.

Of course we are not being asked to help Greece.  Oh no.  We are being asked to help the Euro.  This currency that was the very badly thought out brainchild of the tossers in Brussels has to be protected now, at all costs.  And the cost to the Irish tax payer is over a billion, which we do not have.  What’s more, they now reckon that a billion is only the start of it.

There is a sentiment that I have heard several times in the last few days.  The words may be different but the meaning is the same – to protect the Euro in the future, Brussels must have more control over individual countries.  They have their excuse now, and they are going to push it for all it’s worth.  Mark my words – we are on the path to government by Brussels.

I don’t know quite how they are going to achieve this.  It would have to be put to the people, presumably, and it will be interesting to see the lies, deceit and spin put on it to get it through.  Or knowing Brussels, they’ll sneak it in by the back door.  My guess is that all governments will have to get European approval for each budget, which will gradually evolve into Europe doing our budgets for us.  Control the purse strings, and you control the country.

So far from being pro-European now, I can happily say that if the whole edifice collapsed, I would be the first to crack open the champagne.

Sundays

May 9th, 2010

Sunday was never particularly my favourite day of the week.

As a kid, it meant dressing up in my ‘Sunday best’ and being dragged off to Mass.  Even at that age, I was having my doubts about the whole circus, and would have much preferred to be out heaving rocks at other kids, or some other healthy pursuit.

As I grew older, I rebelled on the Mass business, but then Sundays became the day to suffer the Saturday night hangover.  I was still an apprentice drinker in those days, so hangovers on a Sunday were a regular feature.  And then there were the fucking daft Sunday drinking laws that meant there was a ‘holy hour’ from two until four.  I mean to say, what the hell is a bloke to do for two hours?  And of course they shut up shop at ten again.  Fucking hell!  There was no respect for the serious drinker at all at all.

In my earlier working days, Sunday was the day I had to do out my timesheets and my travel and subsistence claims.  This called for a great deal of creative accounting, as I never kept accurate records of my mileage for the week, and anyway, my actual mileage wouldn’t have been worth that much.  It was a case of thinking of a number between twenty and a hundred, doubling it, adding fifty and then converting it to kilometres [even though the claim was in miles].  Also I had to remember all the places I was supposed to have been during the week, which wasn’t easy as invariably I was at the local pitch and putt, but I couldn’t put that down.  Stressful times.

Nowadays, Sunday isn’t much different from the rest of the days of the week.  Herself likes the Sunday Times, which means that the day ends with an incredible amount of paper scattered around the place.  Each edition must be the death knell for about an acre of trees.  I still am not that fond of it though.  It’s a sort of dead day, where no one is around and I daren’t go out [apart from fetching the paper] because of all the nut cases going for their Sunday drives.

Of course the big black mark against Sunday was that it was followed by Monday.  That doesn’t apply now.  Well, of course it does, but Monday doesn’t hold any dread any more, because I don’t have to go to work.

I used to dislike Sunday because it was followed by Monday.

Now I dislike Sunday because it isn’t Monday.

Faces I could never tire of kicking – 6

May 7th, 2010

Today’s choice may come as a surprise to some people, but it comes as no surprise to me.

There is something about this one’s face that really gets on my wick.  I don’t know quite what it is, but I squirm every time I see her, avoid films she is in and turn over magazines if she’s on the cover.

Jennifer-Aniston

I think my love hate relationship started with “Friends”.  To me, that programme was the epitome of everything that is unfunny about American comedy.  It was overacted, badly staged and basically, not funny.  What made it worse was that everyone raved about it.

In my previous incarnation as a worker, I used to share an office with a Friends fan.  Every coffee break was the same – she would start on about the antics of the Friends lot and would bore the arse off the rest of us, who hated the programme.  We would all moan silently, but none of us had the heart to tell our colleague to shut the fuck up.  We were too nice.  That’s office life for you.

Since “Friends”, Aniston seems to crop up everywhere.  I have had the misfortune to see a couple of films featuring her.  Someone should tell the poor bint that she can’t act for nuts.  She always seems to play the same character, no matter what film she’s in, so if I see her name in the listings, I just don’t watch any more.

Then there are the “celebrity” magazines.  They seem to be obsessed with her.  Of course, I don’t buy them but that doesn’t stop all those fucking advertisements.  I mean to say, who gives a flying fuck about Jennifer Aniston’s love life?  On the grand scheme of things, it is less than trivial.  Who gives a fiddler’s fart if she is pregnant or about to date some new sap?  I have more important things to worry about, such as that pimple on the back of my neck.

A lot of men consider her to be attractive.  I don’t.  Those blank soulless eyes freak me.  The light is on, but there is nobody in.  She never seems to change her expression either.  I have a private theory that she is, in fact from the planet Zorg, and is eyeing the human race up for potential meat farming.

It is definitely time to dust off the boots.

 

The Faces collection.

Minorities

May 6th, 2010

What would life be like without minorities?

I’m not talking about religious or ethnic minorities.  I’m talking about those few fuckers who screw life up for the rest of us.

The majority of us, for example respect each others properties, but a few think it is their God given right to help themselves.  As a result, we all have to suffer the burden of burglar alarms, electronic gates and high insurance rates.

The majority of us are reasonable drivers, but because of the few arseholes on the roads, we have to suffer punitive driving laws and more high insurance rates.

The majority of us never gave a thought to smoking in pubs or anywhere else for that matter, but because of the few zealots and bigots our hospitality trade and the social life of the country is in tatters.

Wherever you look, it is the small minority in society that is completely fucking things up for the rest of us, as it seems to be the philosophy that to tame the few, you have to restrict all.  It is the philosophy that states that because some dumb fucking kid goes and wraps his car around a tree at a hundred miles an hour, that we all must be dumb fucking kids, so no one can drive more that thirty miles an hour.  It doesn’t make sense, yet that’s the way it is.

If it weren’t for the minorities, we wouldn’t need half the laws that govern our daily lives.  Life would be a lot cheaper.  We could rediscover the true meaning of liberty.

If only there was a way to easily identify the minorities – we could just cull the fuckers for the sake of the rest of us. 

The exception to this is, of course Fianna Fail.  There are no minorities there.  They are all dragging us down.

Dawn chorus

May 5th, 2010

I woke early this morning for some reason.

I was going to go back to sleep, but the devil got into me so I got up instead.  I’m glad I did.

Dawn was just breaking, and I stood out in the garden for a while.  The dawn chorus was quite spectacular.

There were blackbirds, thrushes, robins, tits [of the feathered variety], finches and a couple of pheasants [or it may have been peasants?] all vying with each other to be the loudest.  It was the most beautiful sound.

As I stood there, a fox strolled across the lawn which didn’t please Sandy.  She shot off after him and woke the neighbour who was fast asleep under the hedge.  I don’t know why it is, but whenever the neighbour has a rake of pints, he always ends up sleeping it off in my garden.  Doesn’t he know he has a garden of his own for that purpose?

I went back indoors, feeling full of the joys of spring.

Then it started to piss rain.

*sigh*

Now I’m tired.

After all, I’ve been up since dawn.

I think I’ll have a nap.

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