Saturday, 20 December 2014


Hard to keep up with foreign sorrow. Our thoughts and prayers, as good dwellers in the land of moral cliche, are infinitely elastic but I am temporarily suspending my thoughts  and prayers for the Ebola victims, their heroic British carers - that nurse bloke, isn't he just magic, Pope oughta make him a saint, if you ask me, if he's a catholic, even if he's not - and their political leaders and transferring them to the family, friends and team-mates of that cricketer, the one who surprisingly  had his head smashed-in by a cricket ball, Oh and at the same time I must remember to include in my thoughts and prayers the poor cunt who threw the ball at his head in the first place. Who'da thought it, eh, a speeding projectile hitting someone on the head and killing them|? 

 I mean, I was thinking about and praying my arse off for Ebola victims for just the longest time and I could still find some kneeling-time for world cricket but with those people killed and traumatised in the Cafe Lindt, down under,  I had to kinda reach for the newly imperative baton of  sanctimonious futility  which Prayer was passing me and start all over again, thinking and praying like a good 'un, only not, obviously, for the Raghead bastard who did it. And anyway, even if I was to have acted like a proper Christian and not just a smarmy fucking hypocrite, if I'd prayed for the deranged wog it wouldna worked because he was a fucking muslim, no point praying for those Godless, heathenbastard fuckpigs, is there, not with what they believe in, the God of Isaac and Abraham, I mean, what kinda Godshit is that, Abraham? 

Well, I say I was praying for the victims of Cafe Lindt, and I was, at  least I was  until those eight Aussie kids, was it eight, were killed the following day and then Fuck me, Jesus, I hadda re-prioritise my whole prayer schedule all over again. And that was before,  back here, in the land of the prayerful and thoughtful television news-watcher, that copper got topped in Liverpool and the Chief Scouse Constable asked for prayers not just for this dead bloke and his family and his mates but for the whole fucking police family.  Not sure if it was the Chief Constable or the head of the local police lodge,  the latter being the senior man it was probably him led the call for rozzer-prayer. It's like it says at the top, seems like every time you turn around there's another hard-luck story that you're gonna hear.

I was reading somewhere about news saturation, about it resulting in a condition described as Learned Helplessness.  There is  so much shit, yet there is none of it which we can influence in the slightest fashion; what is the point in knowing of it? As it comes in, from whoever deems it newsworthy, hundred grand a year newsreaders emote their empty heads off and  I would, too, for that money, Christ, I'd rend my clothers, tear my hair, weep and fucking wail and wear sackcloth and ashes for a couple of hours a day in return for two grand a week.  But I can't do it for nothing, acting.

And I don't actually care about the massacred, rich Pakistani children, probably, in the scheme of things, better the children of the rich get killed than the poor little fuckers crawling over the rubbish dumps.  I could say that I cared but I don't, I simply don't. Oh, I can think myself into others' horrors as well as the next man;  all those people being minced alive as the WTC towers collapsed in free fall, must've been fucking awful  for them; most of them, those that weren't shitting themselves and biting their own flesh, would have thought that somehow they'd be rescued, wouldn't have expected the fucking things just to collapse and that would have been a bit of a mercy, not knowing,  expecting Bruce Willis to fly in and helicoper them all to safety, yodelling WhoopeeKiYay Motherfuckers, but even so, as the floors started to fall away under them and the beams and concrete started smashing into them it would have been  a desperate, shit-spurting horrorshow. Aw, fuck, I dowanna die with my pants all fulla my own shit.  Doesn't matter son, yer getting minced-up so small nobody'll ever know. They just gonna give yer relations a box with some rubble and dust and bitsa mince.

 And the kids in Peshawar, they'd have been confused and terrified; the pain, the smell, the blood and shit; the noisy, angry men, shouting at them, shooting them, killing them;  the ghastly realisation that their own grown-ups could not save them from other grown-ups;  poor little bastards.  But I don't care about it. It was a world away. And if I did choose to feign caring then, tomorrow, tomorrow and tomorrow, Sorrow's emmisaries would visit other victims in other lands, demanding again my thoughts, my prayers. skymadeupnewsandfilth have us so filled now  with horror, mayhem and endless slaughter that, like Macbeth,  we are become, for our own trembling sanity,  innured to it all. And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 
the way to dusty death.

But even should we want it so, there's nothing special about this atrocity, no  matter what skymadeupnewsandfilth piously says. Uncle Sam does it all the time, for Freedom, y'unnerstand, gotta kill them nigger children, because God put our great republic here to do that very thing.  Never was a holier, righteouser, more freedom-lovin' nation of slave masters than the Yew-nited States;  shit, sonny, ain't you never hearda Merkan Exceptionalarityism?  All in a day's work for the US AirCorp, murdering some  nigger kids;  what, pray, Emily, Dermot and JonSox, is  different about the Talimen doing it?

And not just Uncle Sam; our last government and opposition are Macbeth-steeped in blood, not the blood of noble conflict, but the blood of atrocious warcrime, of civilian-targeted firebombings, of drive-by shooting;  they must hear the torture-shrieks of Abu Graib and Camp Guantanamo,  Miliband major and Jack Torture, the agonised cries  which they have tried so hard, on behalf of their American masters, to stifle; by comparison, the Taliban engage in child's play.

From the haughty, greedy whores, Tony and Imelda, to grubby spear carriers in the parliamentary ranks, there is no Tory or Labour member who can plead  innocence of atrocity far graver than those perpetrated by - whatever you want to call them - Mujahadein, Taliban, Baa'thist, Sunni or Shi'ite, the Ragheads, whom we must now obediently excoriate anew.

Former British minister, war criminal  and common  crook, Geoff Hoon, could speak to us of atrocity.
Hoon on being biombed to democracy. From wikipedia

Shortly after the US/UK led invasion of Iraq began in 2003, following an admission by the Ministry of Defence that Britain had dropped 50 airborne cluster bombs in the south of Iraq and left behind up to 800 unexploded bomblets, it was put to Hoon in a Radio 4 interview that an Iraqi mother of a child killed by these cluster bombs would not thank the British army. He replied "One day they might." Hoon continued "I accept that in the short term the consequences are terrible. No one minimises those and I'm not seeking to do so," he said. "But what I am saying is that this is a country that has been brutalised for decades by this appalling regime and that the restoration of that country to its own people, the possibility of their deciding for themselves their future ... and indeed the way in which they go about their lives, ultimately, yes, that will be a better place for people in Iraq."[8]

  Hoon and Extraordinary Rendition

Hoon was condemned by an international delegation of European MPs for evading questions about Britain's co-operation with the CIA's so-called 'extraordinary rendition' programme.[11] Hoon, then Minister for Europe, was being quizzed in the wake of Dick Marty's Council of Europe report which found extensive involvement of European countries, including Britain, in the US kidnapping and torture programme.

Hoon and C4 Dispatches lobbyist investigation

Hoon was one of the MPs named in the 2010 sting operation on political lobbying by the Channel 4 Dispatches programme. Hoon told an undercover reporter that he wanted to translate his knowledge and contacts into something that "frankly makes money".[21] On 22 March 2010 it was announced he had been suspended from the Parliamentary Labour Party, alongside Patricia Hewitt and Stephen Byers.[22]

For a war crimnal of Hoon's untroubled conscience and dark accomplishments,  being supended from a party he was anyway leaving does not even amount to a smack on the greedy wrist.
Hoon and most of his erstwhile colleagues  are responsible for  a global cataclysm of warcrimes, atrocities, human rights violations, for a massive bilking, by GlobaCorp, of trillions of tax dollars and pounds, for setting alight the Middle East and South East Asia, for making millions refugee and for the killing and maiming of  hundreds of thousand.  At the end of his crime spree, Hoon whined that, now, the right thing, the responsible thing for him to do was make some money. For his family.

 Filth like Geoff Hoon make the Taliban look like juvenile delinquents; worse, he is cause to their effect.

Lest we forget quite how rancid  was NewLabour, its every last  parliamentary, constituency and union member, here's Geoff,  setting the record straight.


SG said...

Yes, I feel just the fucking same about it Mr I - though you articulate it much better than I. Just another manifestation of this:
Just think how many more tragedies there are going on at any one time and how fucking irresponsible it is of the media not to report them all. Actually I am appalled by what happened to those kids but all this handwringing, soon to be followed by handwashing, what use is any of it? The whiteman's burden lies on the floor where we left it - no use crying over it.

Bungalow Bill said...

It is surely correct that there is no moral difference between mutilation up close and slaughter at a distance.

I was reminded of the saintly Leonard Cheshire who founded the hospice care homes and who was calmly able to excuse the atom bombs on Japan - he was an observer on one of the planes.

We best honour the murdered innocent by limiting ourselves to objective outrage, no empathy needed. Just the recognition that intentional or reckless destruction of blameless human life is always impermissible.

Mike said...

As a latter-day-Aussie, I feel embarrassed by the outbreak of Dianna-ism at Martin Place. (They will remove my hat and thongs for saying this).

Also, I shouted at the TeeVee for a day - why didn't the police shoot the cunt, sniper rifles accurate to 1000m and more, at just a range of 30m. It was clear it would all go wrong when some hatchet-faced assistant police commissioner said the objective was a peaceful resolution. WRONG. It should have been to ensure the safety of the hostages - ergo, removal of threat. Then after it all went tits up, they had the cheek to say we have the world's best police force. And why was the threat there in the first place?

We are in the grip of something very wrong - and not just down here.

Mike said...

PS - interesting reading the obits on Mandy Rice-Davies and the establishment cover-ups. Nothing changes.

If ever Chilcot emerges, it will set new records for linguistic gymnastics.

call me ishmael said...

Yes, I laughed at that, best police force in the world stuff and yes, matey's face was right up against the window, begging to be shot at. I don't generally encourage the filth to kill folks but this was different. And yes, Aussie leaders and dignitaries grow alarmingly stupid and unpleasant.

A man who didn't know better might look at the English-speaking world and suspect a full-blown race war was just around the corner.

I was only a child at the time but I do think that the treatment of MRD, Christine Keeler and Stephen Ward eventually alerted me to Ruin's march.

Anonymous said...

After the Peshawar schoolcull the inevitable Malalalala was wheeled out to point her finger skywards and bring her freshly minted Nobel Gravitas to bear on the need for...somefuckingthing. People of the world to join other people of the world and make the world a world people can be people in, or something. I tuned her out because it occurred to me there might be a calculated reason for the fetishisation of this poor/heroic/ghastly kid. "See, you can shoot them in the head and it still works, pretty much. No big deal. So dial down the fucking outrage next time we have to dronestrike a bunch of wogs. They can take it."

"...that should we wade no more, returning would be as tedious as go o'er." Misquoting slightly on purpose with apologies.


call me ishmael said...

I think Hoon's regiments were quite up close and personal, mr bungalow bill, and so I see not even that pretty wooly distinction, the one between distant and face-to-face murder. But I do see a difference in intent between Pakistanis killing those who are dependants of those who killed their own dependants in a grim tit-for-tat and British soldiers kicking to death a blameless hotel worker in a land a thousand miles from their own home; permissibility used to whatever the victors determined it to be, in these rolling wars of ours, victory is unrecognisable, as Uncle Sam simply shifts his troops from one illegally invaded country to another and rampages through the skies, drone-killing whomsoever he chooses, a truly great Satan.

call me ishmael said...

Equal in utility to her current role, mr verge, as stooge, would be Malalalala's role as murder victim. I wonder does the silly, conceited little bitch know thar.

Always good for a laugh, Lord and Lady Blair, I mean Macbeth.

SG said...

Thanks for posting the Hoon interview Mr I - I hadn't heard it before. According to Wiki he is now Managing Director of 'Business' at Agusta Westland!

yardarm said...

I save my tears for those most meaningful to me: the time will come when I need them.

It was an ideal marriage: the slimy hypocrites of New Labour and the emotional masturbation that started when Diana kicked the bucket.

I hope Australia goes without tragedy for a while because I`m pissed off with seeing that incoherent, wing nut eared cunt Abbott every time someone checks into the boneyard. Didn`t he try and jump on the Malaysia Airliner disappearance ? The mans as big a shroudwaver as Blair, if that's possible.

call me ishmael said...

I don't know if you were at order-order back in the day, mr sg, but Hoon's name became the universal synonym for cunt, one of my young friend, stanislav's, constructions.

They all got away with it, every last one of them and soon we shall see their spawn sitting in their seats, inheriting the family murder business.

call me ishmael said...

Dunno about that, mr yardarm, crying. I was just watching ten thousand - ten fucking thousand - Japanese, singing Beethoven's Ode to Joy and I think many of them were crying as much as I ; there is a universal tear, I believe, which we mannishly suppress while weeping, as you say, to order, for skymadeupnewsandfilth's cameras.

He is uniquely repugnant, that Abbott, even for an Australian. I hope his arse falls out and he trips over his intestines.

SG said...

Still, tears of joy all round at news of the latest royal wedding... Doesn't it just make you 'misty'?

Mike said...

Don't knock the Aussies - we are like you used to be.

Mike said...

PS Only Aussies have addresses like this:

mongoose said...

I think that it is just hard to relate to some things, isn't it? I have played a bit of cricket in my time - pretty badly, and so the death of Phil Hughes was soemthing I can understand. Any of us could have been hit like that, any day of any week. Such a mishap could have happened to anyone who has played. And I have watched Hughes play, paid money for it too, and so I appreciate some of the character of the lad. So his death is a bit more personal. OTOH a bunch of mad buggers machine-gunning over a hundred children is just so far beyond anything that any of us has ever experienced that it makes it hard to empathise beyond the obvious. It is just too horrible to get to grips properly though.

mongoose said...

Subtract "though" and add "with". Oops.

call me ishmael said...

I was never like we used to be, mr mike, always a stranger, even now.

As for your adopted countrymen, I only know one, here, about our age and he, on a good day, is high-octane UKIP crossed with the KKK and the Nazi party. I have entertained his family, when they have visited and they are worse than him, they live in some shithole called Calgoolie, Kilgoolie, something like that, hating Sheilas and Abos equally, getting drunk and angry and morbid, stupid fucking bastards, graceless, bigoted and ignorant.

As for celebrity Aussies, I watched a documentary about the great cultural cross-fertilisation represented by Clive Rent-a-Sneer James, Professor Germaine Greer, pisshead, hypocrite and drunken slapper; the vicious old drag queen, Barry Humphries and Felix Dennis, founder of Oz magazine, anarcho-porn for the student spawn of the middle class. I'd burn them all alive, those of them still spluttering along.

It does look like a fabulous if intimidating continent and I do envy whatever characteristics of boldness and curiosity you possess which took you there, and to so many other places - Christ, I feel like Dr Livingstone, living a few miles up the M6 and the A9 but my life experience of Australians compares with that of every single encounter I have had with members of what they call the Traveller Community, fucking awful, present company excepted, of course.

call me ishmael said...

I always know what you mean, mr mongoose, no need for post facto sub editing. But I disagree, it is easy to relate to sorrow and pain and humiliation and loss - I can see me thinking myself into Andrew Mitchellism, Gordon Snotism, as I said, I can imagine all too vividly that last half-hour in the WTC buildings. My point was that the compulsion, the pressure applied to us, be it WW1, Hillsborough, Diana or most impertinently by Holocaust fucking Day, is actually ultimately contra-empathic, degenerative, corrosive, fuck me, Scotland is awash with it tonight, after the George Square Dustbin Lorry Massacree, it is becoming addictive, all this recreational ghoulishness, like pornography.

Mike said...

Mr I: The celebrities you list there are Anglo-Aussies, more Anlgo than Aussie - but I wouldn't disagree with your prescription. I think they would be equally despised here - we are even less inclined to pseuds than you are.

Never been to Kalgoorlie, but its an outback mining town, rich in diamonds etc. Even the shielas out there are as tough as old boots. I've spent time out bush in the Northern Territory (as shown in Crocodile Dundee - truly marvelous, and dangerous country) and even waded in Alligator Creek. All I can say is the people out there have a different DNA.

SG said...

'tis the season of goodwill, and I feel you may have been a little harsh on our 'Anglo-Australian' cousins Mr I, well one of them anyway. Therefore I would like to make an appeal to the Ishmaelian Court for clemency in respect of the Australian Cultural Attache on the grounds that: 1/ whether he is considered funny or not, he is by me, as far as I can see he has done little in the way of real harm to anyone; 2/ given his diplomatic status, his detention and execution would constitute a serious breach of international law potentially attracting unwelcome attention from or, indeed, interventions by hostile, imperialist powers, as Mr K of Pyongyang has recently discovered. Also I found found Baz's observations in relation to some of the matters you discuss above entertaining:

However you can do what you like with the rancorous old witch Greer!

Happy Christmas to your good self, Mrs I and the regular crew here.

call me ishmael said...

Attache Patterson was amusing, as was Humphries' Barry McKenzie strip in the Eye - Christ, poor bloke, his missus banged like a shithouse door in a gale, remaing in my mind all these years on but it was Edna Everidge repelled me; I am always leary about dragsters and I do believe that, fawned on by the likes ike Parkinson, that one was the initiator of what we now know as Cruelty TeeVee, as well as of boorish instutionalised misogyny; fair made me puke, he did.

If we rule out sport and trash entertainment I cannot think of a notable Australian contribution to international culture. There must be some but I can't think of any.

mr mike ventures that there are tremendous opportunities for Asian, Indo-Chinese and other esoteric cross-fertilisations with white Oz but their leaders seem increasingly insane, belligerent, redneck and Uncle Samist, the citizenry, if I am not mistaken, more monarchist. God save the Queen.

SG said...

I take your point about the Dame. From the way he writes about her I sense that Humphries' relationship with her is an uneasy one. I guess he just can't bring himself to kill the old 'cash cow' off! As for Parkinson - hell that's just a whole new world of hurt! Grrrr!...

call me ishmael said...

You got funeral cover, mr sg?

SG said...

Not specifically - but like many I am, alas, worth more dead than alive but fortunately so low down the food chain as to be of little interest or consequence to the 'high and mighty' of either the political or celebrity variety so you are probably stuck with my disordered ramblings for a while longer yet!

SG said...

P.S. For the record Parkinson is as loathsome a creature as ever crawled from the Celeb-Media-Minister swamp just in case my earlier comment read the other way!

mongoose said...

It's the extreme, Mr I. EVen the mawkish OTT McSturgeon business trolling around the gutters of Glasgow looking for bloodstains and votes is an understandable event. Any of us might crash a vehicle during a heart-attack, or be crashed into. The wilder reaches of slaughter are more difficult to grasp somehow. At least to me. Of course, down here in Bandit Country years can go by between violent events.

I see that Santa is bringing you some snow for Christmas. I cannot imagine that that is common out there in the middle of the ocean. Have a good one!

call me ishmael said...

An odious finale, Gnasher's, I guess she just can't help herself, soundbiting at corpses. I do hope that driver hadn't been out at the works do, because here, in smart, successful Scotland, we pride ourselves on our sobriety; poor bastard, wouldn't want to be in his shoes, drunk or sober, killing Chritsmas shoppers, must be just the worst crime ever.

Happy Christmas to you and all the mongeese.