Category Archives: Sarcastic Intemperate Irascible Screed

The One Percenters

(or)  The Recent Bold Deeds of The Most Busy and Industrious Band of True Believers and Followers of the Religion Of Peace

Not too long ago someone sought to prove a point, that being that most followers of Islam are nice folks who just want to get along, that not every Muslim was an Islamist … a PC word used now in lieu of the word Terrorist, which is fast becoming a word not to be used in polite society…..  After all one cannot call a billion people terrorists.  I mean some of them are crazy, some of them dribbling idiots, some kings, some murderous dictators, some rabid preachers and even more rabid politicians, some oil billionaires, and someone needs to stay home and cook.

They mentioned the results of a years long poll, worldwide in scope, by the Gallup folks and sponsored by a bunch of pro-Muslim organizations here in the Untied States…if fast fading memory serves.  The poll concluded that only 1% of Muslims were interested in converting the world by any means, fair or foul, into a seamless garment of burka clad women and bearded men with four wives apiece and 70 virgins waiting them in paradise.

This conclusion was reached, one may speculate, from analysis of data gathered from the usual statistically accurate survey of 1,00o some odd folks…perhaps in every country where there are one thousand Muslims, but who knows.

Only 1%?

It is  only too easy to adopt the term One Percenters from the Occupy Everything crowd of anarchists and use it to denote this extremely busy band of murderers, bombers, arsonists, rapists, enslavers, “occupiers”, whiners, thugs and criminals who do not worship any god I can recognize…and the governments and vast numbers of angry maniacs who support them anywhere one or two of them are gathered, it seems, in their prophet’s name, peace be upon him.

You doubt??

Read on then, here.

This thing comes out every month.  One would think, from the way our Main Stream media is addicted to feeding its slobbering audience with stories of gore and guts, that they would jump at the chance to cover things like these assorted acts of horror, mayhem, intimidation and crime all committed by a mere, but extremely busy, one percent of the worshipers of something or other.  But, no.  The fact is they hate Christianity more.  And they hate anyone who is a believing Christian.  Did you ever wonder why?

The battle is not between Islam and the rest of the world.

The battle is the same one it has always been; the one between Good and Evil.


Just Say No!

OK, ABC and Disney, Hollywood, Pepsi,the  Democratic Party, MSNBC, CNN, Fox, the other two nets, every newspaper in the country, and anyone who advertises in them or on TV, medical insurance, auto insurance, insurance insurance. It all stinks like fish gurry.  That’s what we’re being fed, and we think it’s filet mignon.

Are we really that stupid?  Have we really been such lousy pushovers?  Is it really the truth; that these guys have figured out that all we are is a bunch of stomachs, sexual organs and fat butts?  Seems like it.

No you say?  Prove it.

Don’t give them any of your time, and don’t spend any of your money on them.

Did I leave out anything?  Oh, yeah, the cable and satellite companies that carry alla that garbage into your home. Stop it all.  Cut it all out, the noise, the flash, the bling, the fly, the whatever the hell they come with next to make us forget that this is all a big swindle.

That’s gonna leave many of us with a lot of loose change and an awful lot of time on our hands. Try reading a book.  Try reading a good book.  Take a walk.  Actually have a conversation about something other than baseball or your nails and hair.  Put the money in a shoe box or a bank and forget about it.

Hey!  Here’s an idea.  Why not spend the time saying a prayer for the state of the world, these Untied States and our own poor selves.  And, another idea just occurred to my mind.  Why not use some of that new found money to help some folks; like folks with time on their hands because they have no work to do.  Or, folks with time on their hands because they never had any work to do, or because they can’t work…or hungry folks…or sick folks.  You know?

And, if or when the suits in the big buildings wake up and find everyone’s left the room,  and they come outside and say, “Hey!  OK, we screwed up.  Sorry.  Come on back.”  And their hands are out in supplication, and they’re smiling pleadingly, why not everyone say, “Nah, find another sucker.”  And, try finding an honest job while you’re at it.

‘Cause you know what all of this is, don’t you?  It’s “Bread and Circuses”, where the Big Deals figure out how to keep the lid on, keep the schmucks (that’s you Mr. and Mrs. America) happy so they never figure out how lousy life is; they never figure out that they are owned, bought and paid for in the greatest swindle since the original Bread and Circus deal back there in Rome.  Did you see the movie Matrix?  You’re in it.  I’m in it.

We’re all in it.

Wake up.

Walk away.

Just sayin’.

Lies and Damned Lies

Sometimes, you know, you just want to spit in someone’s eye, or bust ’em in the nose.

I know.  I know.  That kind of thing is not nice.  But, lately, every time the temp around here gets above fifty I hear the chattering idiots on the 6 and 11, and Bob or Missy, the grinning boobs of weather dudes and dudesses, predicting the melting of building and people, glaciers, ice caps and the beginning of Endless Summer all over the world as this place becomes another 900 degree Venus sometime next Tuesday…IF SOMETHING ISN’T DONE IMMEDIATELY!!!  These things begin to remind me of being a patient and hearing from the doctor’s mouth, “Well, Mr. Crumple, the numbers here don’t look good, don’t look good at all.  Your afganistan levels are too high and there way too many morroci in your blood.  Can you come in next Tuesday?  I want to run some further tests.”

If your heart wasn’t thumping erratically before, it certainly would be then, and for a while after.

Is it really necessary to pile it on the way they do?  It seems that the media is simply a machine that exists to give folks a little more to worry about in the never ending list of worries we have until we break.  It begins to make the famine and plague years  seem like “Happy Days”, the threat of barbarian invasions and massacre of whole cities merely another evening with “Ozzie and Harriet”.

I suppose it would be alright if someone would turn off the darn machine, say that the test was over and allow us to go home to wait for the undertaker.  It would be, as they say, a “mercy”.

Now, I find out that the data which led to the reports, which led to the predictions of the imminent death of us all prematurely from overheating was assembled from spurious sources by people who had no more idea of what they were doing in many cases than I have of how to do a jig saw puzzle or darn a sock.  And, I further find out that the data has been assembled from the scholarly equivalent of gossip and rumor, hints and guesses and the assemblers…the lab assistants to the chrome domed Ph.D.’s who are regulars before Congresses, Parliaments, Committees, Sub-Committees and Blue Ribbon Panels all over the bleeping planet; whose eyebrows are raised in alarm and voices cry alarum, like klaxons warning of death from the sky…are with their bosses little better than liars.

That’s a heck of a sentence to build.  But, it ain’t any worse than what’s being done even as I write by this snake in the grass IPCC and the guys and gals who are making a good living off it.

I think they ought to be occupied by the great unwashed down on Wall Street.  But that happens and all that would come of it would be a few hours of Eyeworthless Reports all over the place, and then more hearings, harangues and helpless mumblings and mutterings.  Well at least the cooks and caterers, the champagne and fancy food dudes will continue to make a buck off them.  At least we won’t have to see them next to all the iron workers and auto workers and other honest guys in the unemployment lines.  At least the hotel and convention hall folks will still have some place to go from Monday to Friday, and the First class seats will be filled on all the flights to Switzerland, South Africa, Tokyo and other places where Accords are signed.  And, lord knows the world has a crying need for accords.

The whole thing stinks, like a dead dog left in the sun for a few days, and it’s about as good looking, too.

86 ‘Em

“At long last…”, the question comes boiling up in my head begging to be shouted from the top of the tallest building, the highest mountain, screamed across the world.  “At long last, Dr. Peter Singer, have you no decency?”  I want to ask the same question of the heads of department, the administrators and trustees of the “institution” that pays the man a salary. Institution is the proper word since it must be a place for madmen, run by madmen, educating madmen as they lend their name, their honor and their prestige to a singer of such mad songs as his and honor him as a respected member of their “tribe”.  To my mind their doing so lends weight to his utterances and heaps dishonor on them all, and on all who don’t stand and point at them and cry, “SHAME!”

It is Singer’s particular gift to us to have lifted from the bloody mud the sword bearing the dripping banner of the armies of those whose first thought was and is death for the weak, death for the “useless”, death for the diseased and deformed as they define the words. It is the banner of a hundred genocidal madmen, of a thousand smug eugenicists now become Singer’s banner to carry.  Over the top?  Well, perhaps.  Singer does sing sweetly.

After all, he is a professor at one of our most prestigious universities; many degreed, much honored and respected.  At one point he argued that we ought to be able to murder any new born child since newborns were not persons according to his definition; human beings with moral agency.   And he kept teaching.  Why not?  He is tenured, which is almost as secure a position as being a Democrat in Massachusetts.  That kids can be “offed” by Mom and Dad is very consistent with his philosophical outlook, after all.  I think it’s called Utilitarianism, as in, “We don’t need another coffee maker.”  His public writings and public utterances indicate that he thinks moral agency a thing that does not develop until we reach the age of two, give or take.  In the case of disabled or diseased specimens, one may never become a “person” in the sense that Singer employs the word; and so, there is no harm done, no foul incurred in simply killing one of them at any time.

You’re probably wondering, as your stomach churns, how can all of this be true.  Well, if I were to hot link you to all of the eye-blasting stuff he’s written or said on the subject over the years this thing would be flagged as spam and never get into your computer.  Google him.  But, here’s an article written by someone else who connects to another article which gets even more specific about Dr. Singer’s agenda which is, in a few words, about the same as anyone else whose primary interest is “improving the breed” whether that is chickens, salmon, horses, computers or us.  If it works, looks good or tastes good and is relatively glitch or disease free, lets make more of ’em.  If not?  86 ’em.

But children are the ones Singer seems to favor most.  And, that makes sense.  Only whackos today consider children worth protecting.  It strikes me as the absolute truth, because Singer works in a big deal Ivy League University filled with very smart guys and girls and no one says, “This guy ought to be muzzled.”  Questions of academic freedom aside I wonder how far he’d get if he went around saying stuff like we need to re-institute slavery since people with black skin are not really persons.  Would he get an invite to the UN to address them like a certain laughing stock president?  How many of his colleagues would defend his right to teach about that?

I just wish the guy would stop.  Maybe, if he did, he could spend his time thinking about recipes for spring lamb, or veal, or suckling pig with new potatoes and early peas, and sipping beaujolais nouveau.  The guy’s probably a vegetarian, though; and a PETA member.

What Can You Say After You Say You’re Sorry?

How about goodbye?

The Limeys owned up to being killers the other day, apologizing for Bloody Sunday back in Belfast in 1972 when their boys murdered a few filthy Catholics for standing up and saying they had no right to be in Ireland in the first place.  Only took them 38 years, but what’s that?

It’s been more than 900 years since they started using the Irish for target practice, or starving them when they weren’t up to shooting, burning, hanging and deporting them, and filling the country up with crooks and criminals who were only too happy to shoot, loot, burn and beat Irishmen, women and children at any available opportunity.

Now, I figure well begun is not yet done.  So how about we hear an apology for The Famine?  How about a little, “Oops, our bad,” for the murders of priests and slaughter of Catholics by the Prods during the Penal law days?  How about owning up that they owe the country something for all the land, cattle, wood and people stolen away during those 900 years of benevolent mayhem committed in the name of “lebensraum”.

How about they go all the way back to the beginning, to the only British Pope, Adrian IV, who gave the place away to Henry II, the same guy who had Thomas a Becket martyred, so that he could keep it safe for Catholicism.  That’s like some chief  mullah over in Iran writing to Ahmadinijad telling him it’s just fine to take over Kuwait and make it a nation of Muslims.

You don’t believe me?  Read the first paragraph of the Papal letter saying, “Go ahead.  It’s all yours. Take it whenever you have a few moments to spare.”

Did you know some clown of a Brutish general (that’s no typo) was caught saying that during the Troubles  about 600 British soldiers were killed on duty in Ireland.  (Notice I don’t use the term Northern Ireland.)  There was a way that all of those lives could have been saved.  They could have been kept where they belonged, marching up and down before Bucky Palace in silly hats and tight red pants guarding some old bag’s collection of bonnets and purses and long white gloves.  So 600 hundred guys who shouldn’t have been there to begin with were killed.  They should have apologized for that, too, and for the 3600 other people who were killed.

I read that the great “We’re Sorry” was spoken the day before “Bloomsday”.  Bloomsday is a day that commemorates Leopold Bloom’s wanderings about Dublin.  Leo is the Ulysses in Joyce’s novel which is called by some the greatest novel written in English.  That’s funny, you know for dozens of reasons.

But here’s a few reasons that make me laugh.  Joyce was Irish.  He couldn’t stand the place and ran away to live in France and die there.  An Irishman doesn’t write this great novel in his native language, Irish, because it wasn’t much of a language any more.  Who’s gonna buy and read a book like his if he writes it in Irish, he might have figured, a few hundred or so pig farmers down in the bog?  I don’t even know if he knew enough Irish to do it for all of his legendary intelligence and wit.

Joyce was supposed to have been fluent in eight or nine languages.  But he doesn’t write in Irish because the English had pretty near destroyed it by the time he comes along.  And Ulysses gets itself banned in Boston, that hangout for Anglophiles who once tried to ban anyone Irish.  That’s funny, too.

Here’s a saying in Irish for you all to think about while your sipping some tea and saying how gracious and humble the Brutish have finally become, “Tir gan teanga, tir gan anim.”  It means, “A land without a tongue is a land without a soul.”  Now, that’s funny to me.

I know a little bit of Irish, not enough to write a book, but a little bit.  Here’s what I say in Irish about the Brutish apology, “Pog mo thoin!”

They should apologize for Ian Paisley.

Murdering Truth

I’ll get right to the point.  I’m writing this because I’m certain that lies are being told, the truth is being abused and slander is being practiced in the name of journalism and honest expression of opinion.  Now, that ought to annoy folks.  It certainly annoys me.

It annoys me because, color me clueless, I’ve always expected that we were entitled to the truth, especially when folks were asking us for a buck to listen to them tell us it.  I speak here of newspapers and other news outlets.  I don’t like being cheated.  More than that I don’t like sloppiness in folks who say they do the best job of anyone in the business they are in, whatever that business may be.  It makes me think of politicians, and I always get upset when I think of politicians; not as upset as when I think of the devil, but close.

The other day a friend wrote me that he sometimes grew weary of my being an apologist for “the clerical sub-culture”, (his term.)  Well, an apologist is as an apologist does, whatever that means.  Suffice it to say that I reject his thesis.  I will label myself an apologist for the truth, especially when I am witness to its being murdered in the public square, while folks who know better stop by to watch, making comments on how well the murdering is done, how cute the murderer(s) may look and how very appropriate that truth should get its comeuppance.

There are abroad many people who want to believe nothing good can come from Rome.  They are among those who still fulminate about the Inquisition, Galileo and the forty billion witches set alight in the Dark Ages.  Now these folk see before them this gentle savage from Bavaria who plays the piano and loves cats.  Well, we know who loves cats, don’t we?  And now, it would seem, the goods have been got on him.  These people are fools, and fools are more to be pitied than scorned, prayed for than cudgeled…or coddled.  Well, except when they know that what they say are lies, or for their own reasons don’t want to find out that what they are about to say may not be the truth.

For an instance, I give you an opinion column in the Los Angeles Times by a person named Tim Rutten.  He is the paper’s entertainment correspondent.  Despite that, he writes in a recent column about current affairs; specifically he writes about Pope Benedict XVI and problems swirling around him and the Catholic Church.

Displaying more than normal ignorance for a newspaper reporter, Mr. Rutten falls on his face in his first paragraph as he tries to undress the Pope and stab him before the throngs he hopes will stop and gape.  He writes: “This has been a tough Lent for the Roman Catholic Church. Its seemingly endless sexual abuse scandal finally has seeped into the papal apartments, and the Vatican’s response to this week’s revelations suggests that far too little has been learned from this squalid affair.”

Now this is a finely constructed paragraph, showing that Rutten has learned something from Journalism 101 as taught by Professor Inkstain: “Open Big!  Have no regard for truth!”  And the truth he gently puts aside in favor of slander is that the Roman Catholic Church, far from learning little, has become a source of information and training for organizations which deal with children all over the world.  As a volunteer and part time employee in my parish, I myself underwent a training program and back ground check.  So did everyone else.  This has been news for several years, now.  More to the point, instead of learning “far too little” the Church has submitted itself to outside audits, and in a restrained fashion tried over the years to point out that what is being said in public is not the truth.  As far as the Pope is concerned, he has not even spoken directly about the current flare up.  He has been silent.

But why concern oneself with truth; especially when the image conjured by “things seeping into the papal apartments” is simply too delicious to ignore?

I would be remiss if I confined myself to the left coast, the daffier side of the country.  The absolute center of daffiness, outside the editorial suite of the New York Times, whose recent front page headlines indicting the Church and the Pope for doing something they did not do have been the cause of this latest round of squealing in the pigsty of  professional journalism, is of course the capitol of these Untied States.  From there a woman writes a column which appears with depressing regularity in the very same New York Times.  I speak of Maureen Dowd, who, nose down in the mud, has turned up this bit of slobber, this unappetizing, indigestible  cob for public consumption. It’s obvious she paid attention in Headline Writing, but she failed in fact checking, logic and keeping on the topic.  Upset by what she’s read in the papers about the Church and the Pope (just as I am) she decides to throw the whole mess against the wall in the hope that something may stick.

Among her dimwitted theses in the piece, if one may call them that, is that once women become priests, and married men too, all will be well, and all manner of things will be well in the Church.  As she says of the current crop of all male  bishops: “They should spend as much time guarding the kids already under their care as they do championing the rights of those who aren’t yet born.” I suspect she meant to write “championing the non-existent rights” in that sentence, because, truth to tell, there are no such things these days as rights for those who “aren’t yet born”, unless you count being turned out into a petrie dish for your constituent cells as a right.

Stupid male bishops!  Don’t you sometimes wish it was the other way around with them, and they all followed Ms. Dowd’s advice?  Then Planned Parenthood could go public and we’d have drive through abortuaries in every mall.  Then we could all have our own supply of stem cells in the fridge, just in case we need a new liver or something.

Anyway as with Rutten so with Dowd there is no mention of any of the many reforms put into place since this whole sordid mess first became known, nor of the very good work being done to make sure it is not repeated.

Regarding the truth of the matter in the current stir-up in the pigsty of modern journalistic practice, take a few moments to read this and wonder whether it is simply stupidity, pelosian ignorance or pure malice which rides the back of these “journalists” and feeds their hunger for destruction of the truth.  You may also wish to consult someone whose understanding of the strategy and tactics of our enemy compasses a wider view than mine.  Her analysis is here.

Remember the man who stood silent before liars and pray for the Holy Father and truth.

Here’s To Your Health

So, the long awaited health bill has been passed.  At least I think it has.  And the Prophet of Hope is prepared to sign it with appropriate pomp and circumstances as early as today, Tuesday, if what I hear is the case.

I expected more, you know.  I expected sound cars going up and down the streets announcing the good news, banners unfurled from all the highest buildings in every city and town with That Face looking toward the light and smiling (is it a smile or a smirk I still wonder) toward the future planned for all of us whether or not we wish it to be so.  I expected battalions of marchers in hopeful green uniforms called out to demonstrate on every main street their support for the Great Leader and his wonderful vision of health and happiness come true for those who, umm, err, merit it.

There is this to be thankful for, though.  Such a future, where all is taken care of, even where life is a matter of choice (on both ends) financed by your taxpayer dollars, is wonderfully freeing.  We will be healthy from cradle (those who make it that far) to grave (whether or not we’d like to go).

Not all will agree, but they will die, soon, anyway, and who is left will have no chance to disagree.  They will be too busy being happy.  Paradise on earth is being created.  The untruths spoken among the fast disappearing herd of malcontents justly deserve scorn.

There are many of them out there, people who carp and cavil, find reason to disparage the great vision and the Great Visionary.  One of them is this woman who calls herself The Anchoress, and writes a continual screed against all good.  Well, she is a Catholic, and we know who they are.  For those with the stomach I offer this from her.  Simply scroll down to the posting on Obamacare and The Aging.  Here is an excerpt:

“In a private fee-for-service medical system, a dead patient is a revenue loss. In the National Health Service (UK), a dead patient was a cost savings.”-Harry Bailey MD 1930-2003, Sheffield (England) University Medical School 1950-1956; Harvard Medical School 1958-1981, US Navy Medical Corps 1982-1991.

Savings, indeed.  Under The Prophet’s new system no one need die in pain, and only those will die whose lives will have become meaningless to them or to their loved ones; or those whose lives never had meaning, of course.  But, no one need die at all, I’ll warrant, since it will soon be full speed ahead on all the wonderful and miraculous treatments to be developed from the stem cells of dead feti  ..Or is that fetae?  No matter, the government will see us right.

Sunday’s victory proved one other thing, aside from it being particularly appropriate that it came during the Sabbath.  As the Speakress, the Apostle of Stupidity, said, God is on our side.  She and 59,000 Catholic women (the right kind of Catholic women) religious are spot on about that.