Tuesday, 16 September 2014

THE NERVE OF SOME PEOPLE, WHO DO THEY THINK THEY ARE?

Quite sickening, this head-chopping jamboree, the act, its broadcasting, its dreadful, protracted arrival but also the victims, themselves; just who the fuck do they think they are, Bruce Willis?

This bloke, Haines, he had young children, what was he thinking about? His gruesome murder will define their lives. Yeah, that's my Dad, having his head hacked-off by some nutterbastard, want my autograph?  

Never mind all his showy good works, somebody who claimed to care about him - and there's a plague of them -  should have given him a sobering slap round the ear, told him, get a job down LIDL or whatever they have in fucking Croatia, where he lived, just don't make me have to watch you getting your head cut off, eh? Prick.


Terry Waite started it, another posturing egomaniac, whose great ambition was to be Man of the Year on the front cover of Time magazine; Archbishop of Canterbury's Special Envoy to the Middle East, he was styled, like some mediaeval Papal legate, a bigmouthed beardy gabshite, world's full of them. 


Anyway, he was kidnapped and Ahmed, not giving a fuck  about the Archbishop of Canterbury, kept Big Tel for years.

Simpering, right-on, boyish journalist John McCarthy  was another one whose fate was supposed to concern me for years, as though I had personally begged him to go into that shithole and send me despatches. 


John had a pretty bint back at home whom the media loved, as she devised new ways, fresh anniversaries of capture and so on to keep his name in our faces, keep their love alive. Only trouble was that when JohnBoy was released it turned out he didn't love Jill Morrel any more, bless. The nation was denied a happy ending;  still, him and Big Tel got out with their balls still attached and their heads on.


And there was another gobby captive, Brian Keenan, 
an absolutely unendurable little Irishman.
Hailed, in the way of these things, as conquering heroes, this trio of nitwits was  awarded some gong or other,


Order of Stupidity, I hope. 
 
Today, there's always some daft civilian fucker in captivity, journalist  or aid worker;  it's a brainless taxi driver, just now, went-out-there-to-help-people, he did, great bloke and everything, just got shit for brains; probably thought,  Wow,  he's so fucking good, himself, that nothing bad could happen to him,  that Ahmed would see the very real and meaningful difference between him and some RAF bod bombing his kids' playground, between him and some vicious Lancashire BovverBoys, togged-up in Her Majesty's best and beating civilians to death.  And now, all who knew him are honour-bound to participate, to join the walk down  Decapitation's broadcast aisle. Who, for fucks sake, would want to be helped by somebody as unpardonably, selfishly  stupid as David Haines or Alan Wotsisname?   Not me, anyway, keep the fuck away from me, do-gooders.

The obvious do-gooding for do-gooders to do is to scream and fucking yell at government and military on all sides, shout and bawl at intolerable fucking Imam beardy bastards and Sheiks and fucking Rabbis, chaplains; military chaplains. was there ever such fucked-up and contradictory a profession, sprinkling holy water on the cruise missiles?  But no, they all, followers of Death's caravan, they all probably describe themselves as partners, tooled-up warriors and gormless tent-erectors like Haines, water-carriers like Wotsisname,  all working together, knee-deep in blood and fucking sanctimony.

It would be in everyone's interests if Haines et al just restrained their egos for a while and realised that thay are actually making matters worse, holding, as they do,  Villainy's coat for him, tempering. minutely, his excesses, fooling themselves and seeking to fool us that Good, actually, you know what, is Triumphant. Fucking idiots,  the more they meddle, the more they save a handful of thirsting lives here and there, the more empowered grow Mr Death and his Sergeants; they should just, in the  parlance of the Newpeople, not go there. Let Justice hear her own voice and raise it.

This, if it is anybody's work, this poxy sanitising of Carnage, this is soldiers' work, not taxi drivers'. This is the work of the United Nations, the work of heavily-armed men in body armour and APCs.  To recognise that, of course, would be to - at the very least - increase the costs of the Death Industry and - at worst - to  illuminate the Stone Age imbecility of statespersons, clergypersons and  Brigadier Generals Rupert Golightly Jockstrap, the world over.

This repulsive creature, Jihad John and his cameraman, they only wield the blade, the true conspirators reside in the White House
 and  in the palaces of Saudi Arabia




- both of whom permit and encourage similar atrocities to be perpetrated on their own citizens 













- is in their unsung, unprotected, unpaid and unpensioned  service that these foolish men died;  it is for the useless strutting of David Cameron and the buffoonery of COBRA that Haines lost his life.

And although we might legitimately enquire why it is that in light of recent revelations of national, industrial-scale beasting in every strata of society the NSPCC didn't just quietly and decently disband itself, if we seek a darker, more farcical interpretation of the new nature of Charity we need look no further than the world's current leading philanthro-bandits, Tony'n'Imelda Blair.
Oh, the Sisters of Mercy, 
they are not departed or gone.

19 comments:

tdg said...

The fault is not theirs but ours: just as we are indifferent to the deaths of base jumpers, willing victims of a freak obsession, so we should be indifferent to the deaths of these people, recreational martyrs.

call me ishmael said...

Yes, that's what I meant, mr tdg,long-windedly, recreational martyrdom. I don't care about this taxi driver and no-one will make me.

Bungalow Bill said...

It's the Saudis who take the brass neck medal. They run one of the most disgusting regimes in the world, a veritable festival of mutilation and oppression, routinely fund and export terror and then strut about lamenting the fruits of their labours and piously berating the Bad Moslems. Cheeky fucking bastards, but they always know that the Leaders of the Free World will crawl over and suck their oil soaked cocks.

call me ishmael said...

They own the Bush family, don't they, the Sauds, two presidents so far and possibly a third and aren't they close, also, to Brian Windsor and his pigbrother, Andrew? Best watch what you say, mr bungalow bill.

Mike said...

Mr BB: when I lived in London in the 70s-80s I remember the Arabs having the status in town of the nouveau oligarchs russe. They were taken to the cleaners by the banks/estate agents/doctors etc. They even put an official boycott on Harley St at one stage, it was so bad, but they needed to get abortions and detoxes somewhere. In my own small way I assisted this pillage with a funding project for some wealth/dodgy Arabs.

In a perverse way, the politicians sucking their cocks helped us all get a piece of the action, although they didn't do it for our sake.

Its a part of the world I detest - I even feel uneasy flying over on the way to Europe. Having said that one can admire the ancient civilisation in Persia and Syria.


Its a strange alliance between the Saudi princelings and the mad headchoppers which I can't quite figure out.

mongoose said...

Any man's death diminishes us, Mr I, even the death of the eegit or the otherwise imprudent. And, yes, all of your examples diminish those responsible far more than they diminish the poor bloody victim.

call me ishmael said...

My call, mr mongoose, was for them to diminish me no further, however compellingly noble they felt their eejitness to be. I cannot and will not distress myself by watching this shit or thinking about it; there is a fucking limit, to how much a man can allow his own diminution.

For self-endangerment, for Idiocy to triumph, it is only necessary that the thoughtful man say nothing.

mongoose said...

And moreover, Mr I, a better use for a jihadi would be to get us the Prophet's view as to how we should spell eegit/eejit because it has long worried me more than it should. I blame Miss Charlesworth btw from up Beake Avenue - the worst spelling fascist who ever sat in a classroom.

mongoose said...

But we don't get to call, do we, on the diminishing business?

Doug Shoulders said...

Those that return from these crusades are given scant opportunity to reflect on their loss of limb or sanity or earning potential.
The war glorification machine lumbers on. Remembrance day, poppies, charity… Help for who?
It took me a few years to understand what a bloke I used to work with used to say every time Britain went to war, or there was a strike, or Irish troubles, kneeling to the EU, Royalty…Biggest enemy of the people is the state.
Captive in a hole for years, Reckon I’d whine bitterly, want answers, the peoples war? Fuck that shit…I lost a bit of me out there and don’t function normally now.
Get me a book deal..

call me ishmael said...

We shouldn't confuse these people with the machinery of war, mr doug shoulders, they are much worse; they follow Slaughter for the sake of it; once signed-up, Tommy has no choice about where he goes. Terry Waite,John McCarthy, Brian Keenan, these all claim to be clever people, a cut above, how come they didn't know what happens in a war zone, a place where you can even get a bullet from the peace-keeping force.

The right of it lies with mr tdg, we should deny deliberate self-endangerment the oxygen of publicity. And pray for the relatives, however we practice Empathy. There will be scores of wealthy, tinpot dictators, immensely grateful to Geldof's gullible, they'll be laughing the bones out of their noses. Modern Charity achieves nothing, worse than that it clouds the water of Righteousness; shouldn't be any starving children but what would aid workers and celebrities do without them?

I can -just- stretch a point with medecin sans frontieres but the rest of the fuckers, the Aid Community, well, I would close them in an instant and let Villainy be seen for what it is.

call me ishmael said...

It is eejit, mr mongoose. And I revere the memory of Miss Boulter, whose stern spelling and grammar regime made me who I am, feeble and indifferent as that may be.

And we do get to call inasmuch as we can close our hearts, divert our feelings and call vainglorious grandstanding, call the standing on Misery's shoulders, call constructing a curriculum vitae from Sorrow by their proper name of Stupidity.

SG said...

I wish the hapless and probably foolish man in question no harm. Indeed I hope he escapes, somehow, with his life. However I agree with the thrust of what you say here Mr I. I do not see what good individual, white westerners can possibly do in these places in such circumstances. Like jumping into shark infested waters. Worse still, they risk the lives of others, like Hereford's best (or the Psycho-Nutter Bastards as I think you call them - I'm glad they are ours, by the way, I have a feeling they may be needed closer to home sometime soon thanks to our pursuit of 'ethical' foreign policies in recent times). As for the Charity / Aid 'sector', sadly, I agree with you - just an arm of Globacorp run by the 'alpha' people though perhaps with a few exceptions as you suggest. What possesses people to expose themselves and others to such risks I cannot fathom. Maybe its part of the mid-life crisis / gap year / extreme sports / Marathon - Triathalon for charity thing thing that was being discussed, at least in part, back up the road? Or perhaps a function of something that Clausewitz cautioned against:

“We repeat again: strength of character does not consist solely in having powerful feelings, but in maintaining one’s balance in spite of them. Even with the violence of emotion, judgment and principle must still function like a ship’s compass, which records the slightest variations however rough the sea.”

Dunno if the Oxford PPE set that govern us study Clausewitz - they should...

yardarm said...

As you say, Mr Bungalow Bill and Mr Ishmael the Saudis have made both Bushes and their bum chums rich beyond the lusts of avarice and when the time came to pay up, just after 9/11 Dubya Retard had them airlifted out of the States, no questions asked. The Special Relationship ain`t with us or even Israel, its with Saudi.

That goes for us too. We signed the Al Yamamah deal with them, biggest arms deal in history and as far as I`m aware not one Saudi jet has strafed the Islamonutterbastards, not one bullet been fired. But where are ISIS getting their money ? From the fly blown bomb sites they`ve conquered ?

The Saudi royals, thousands of them are scared shitless of getting the chop from the Wahabbi nutterbastards in their country, so they appease them by exporting terror; also probably use them in power struggles.

All this shit and where are the Saudis, Iranians, Gulf States, Turks, Egyptians. And its us that's supposed to sort it out ? This one stinks like the dodgy dossier.

call me ishmael said...

A Wilderness of Mirrors, and Cameron too fucking stupid to have the vaguest understanding. Hague, Hammond, Fallon, be better off having a few kids on work experience. And God help us all if Hillary Trousers is let loose on the world, she'll make everybody suffer for Spunky Bill's humiliation of her, y'know, the one in which she was and remains complicit, not all the other ones.

Paul Roach said...

Flagelating arseholes should have just direct debited, What did they expect fucking around in ishmaels backyard like they were untouchable,apologists should at the very least expect a decent roman crucifiction, this head lopping malarkys not very dignified to a christian soul, kind of Paulinian in nature, another useless religious bastard who stripped the bones out of christianity,bet his last thought was "why the fuck did i do that" talking of bones,
seems to me if the saudis remove mohammeds bones from medina a whole new can of worms will be opened and the shit will hit the proverbial, that should entertain and provide some respite for years to come, feel sorry I do for those silent moderates dragged into the meat grinder in deaths kitchen.

Never understood the slippery shite that frames religion, as far as I can percieve the man legend Jesus rejected his and pissed off not a few of the bastards for it, I thought of him as a humanist meself, awell! look forward to a photo of the newish pope popping off the old owl hand gesture, oh how I larfed when i seen the retired hitler yoof minister sockpuppet that one.

call me ishmael said...

Humanism and organised religion are the same thing, the former just being too lazy to dress-up, mr paul roache. The priest seeks to rubber-stamp the soul for his God, the beardy to bring it into his co-operative, both need burning alive. So to speak.

Christianity can at least claim to have inspired the greatest music, art, architecture, drama and literature; humanism has given us that prissy little pisshead, Richard DawkinS. And Dignitas.

Paul Roach said...

Gives me another way of looking at it mr ishmael,having spent most of my life as a Christian observing the absurtities of protestation and numbered as such, I still to this day find that curiously christian belief is so deeply woven into my being (I just cannot seem to dislike the idea of the jesus proposition) that to try and kill it within me leaves me shallow and hateful just like the Dawkins fellow, clever though he is.
I suspect though if christianity is some cruel hoax to salve the beast within mankind then I would still choose it over anything else I have nosied into.
I'm a contradiction mr ishmael and sometimes do myself more harm than good.

call me ishmael said...

I feel that we, here, are bound culturally to Abrahamism, to a codified - wonderless - monotheism, of which Christianity, whether catholic or reformist, is perhaps the most acceptable; I find nothing in Judaism, and only a little in Sufi Islam but there are galaxies of thought and improvement in the New Testament and some in the Old.

The wondering religions,non- or polytheistic, more philosophical, Hinduism and Zen, just for instance, bring ease-with-wonder, they are inconclusive, didactic only to a point; the sound of one hand clapping, the non-self, the not-to-be-known, not a prospscription, that, just an observation; a billion light years, a black hole, Eternity, how can we know these? In my Father's house there are many mansions. Too fucking right there are. dominus ubiscum.