The cheek of these people really is unbounded by Shame or Truth or Decency.
Married, notionally, to a monster who at his every turn slaughters anyone - regardless of their age - whom he perceives to be in his way,
this smirking shitbag, Mother Obama, takes to the WhiteHouse Press Machine to voice her concern for some po' liddle nigger childrun. Make no mistake, this is exactly what she's doing, y'know, that respectable, silent racism which her family does whilst stomping black faces in the dirt. Me and Barack, she frowns, when we hear of this outrage in Nigeria, the first thing we think is Can there be any money for us in this? No, I don't mean that; I mean is there any way we can blame this shit on the Russians. No, I don't mean that, either, what I mean is that when me and Barack hear about this we take it as an opportunity to remind voters that even though we are white ourselves we have two notionally po' liddle nigger childrun running around here someplace and everytime one of Barack's drones kills some entirely innocent nigger family in some overseas shithole we sure as shit ain't reminded of our own,
like I'm tellin' the world's ass we are, for the benefit of the cameras.
Lordamercy, we all done got wall to wall security and money comin' outa our sweet asses for ever and ever, Amen. Me, Barack and our girls, wosstheirnames, ain't no way we ever gonna be hauled off into the bush and sold to slavers, fuck no.
That shit's for niggers.
Did I tell you we had that Lord Paul McBeatle in the White House? He's a true American.
You can keep the medal, just as long as you don't sing any of that Give Peace A Chance shit. I'm a Nobel Peace Prize Medal holder myself and we don't like to hear any of that Peace talk round here.
No, Sir, I won't, but that wasn't me,
it was the other one.
it was the other one.
You mean there's more'n one ? Was it you wrote that one about Back In The USSR? Better watch your ass round here, old man, always bin a shitloada freak accidents round the White House.
Below, a black, former US paratrooper offers his poignant view of the Obamas' War on Children, I mean Terror. No, I don't, I mean Children. Mr and Mrs Obama's War on Children, one of the highlights of our times; Spunky Bill and President Hillary Trousers; Tony and Imelda Blair and now these two fuckpigs. Goes to show, things aren't just black and white, some are the colour of blood. And shit. Obama, he ain't black, he's just shit coloured.
Below, a black, former US paratrooper offers his poignant view of the Obamas' War on Children, I mean Terror. No, I don't, I mean Children. Mr and Mrs Obama's War on Children, one of the highlights of our times; Spunky Bill and President Hillary Trousers; Tony and Imelda Blair and now these two fuckpigs. Goes to show, things aren't just black and white, some are the colour of blood. And shit. Obama, he ain't black, he's just shit coloured.
20 comments:
Sorry, deleted previous post and comments in error; new, compulsory Firefox to blame. Fuck it.
I wondered if the Thought Police had nobbled you.
I hate this compulsory stuff. I was conned into upgrading ios and it's shit, and it can't be undone, not without a degree in computer bullshit, which I don't have.
Vincent
Firefox was playing up for about forty eight hours, giving me just a skeletal blogger dashboard; I then was forced to upgrade it by youtube and then, upgraded but confused I just pressed the wrong delete button. I can never rewrite these things but I can repost the comments in a new post, mr vincent. That Rolf Harris, eh. Maybe it's the case that all children's entertainers are like that. Maybe the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, hundreds of them, thousands
I used to think that we, as a nation, were over-reacting to threat of child molesters, seeing one on every street-corner. Perhaps we were right?
Perhaps we will get to the point where no-one wishes to become a children's entertainer, for fear of nonse accusations, and the little darlings will have to entertain themselves.
Shame about the previous post, I enjoyed it. I thought of Arthur Negus as I read it. He was a fat, pompous git, but he did at least know very well what he was talking about. It is so saddening, to see people flogging medals, as though they were mere tat, as though the man who won them wouldn't care. Should be ashamed of themselves, but shame is, it seems, out of fashion nowadays.
Vincent
I'm sorry, well, actually, I'm not, but you know what I mean, but, sad as it is, I couldn't really give a shit about a bunch of nig nogs kidnapping other nig nogs, if they have, which I'm unsure about.
I'm even less interested in Michelle O fucking Bama's opinion on this shit. They're not 'our girls', they're nothing to do with us, and this is yet more evidence of the UK and the US thinking they have a right to attempt to solve (fuck up) everybody else's problems, when their own houses are on fire.
Ffs, what is it with this negro and banging on about other negroes as if they were hers, like that Trayvon little shit, who got what was coming? If a white President were to so openly and proudly display his racial affilliations he would be finished, but nigger racism's different, nigger racism's good. It's fucking embarrassing, seeing that classless tramp, publicity whoring her worthiness. Touched the Queen, the fucking Queen, she did!
I hope the girls are released. I hope the captors are shot. But I cannot really bring myself to care about this.
BTW Why is MSM pretending that this is nothing to do with the religion of peace?
Vincent.
It was a song done to death, it's composer too far up his own arse but those lines in Streets of London: ...the old man outside the Seamen's mission, memory fading with the medal ribbons that he wears, in his eyes you'll see no pride, hands held loosley at his side, one more forgotten hero in a world that doesn't care.
As I said, I found everyone in that programme utterly despicable but the granddaughter so keen to flog her granddad's medals was particularly depressing.
It was mrs narcolept, I think, who memorably castigated some telly flogger for selling a family heirloom Because It Doesn't Match My Day-caw but this wretched pawnbint was even worse than that.
The saintly Michelle and Barack, anyway, don't they just crack you up with their compassion for these missing girls?
Right, yes, crossed in the cyberpost. That's clear enough and that's just what it is.
Yes Sir, Mr McTell is/was (is he dead?)a competant songwriter and musician.
He was, as you point out, up his own arse, rather like Negus, but, again like Negus, at least he had talent, at least he was versed in his profession, unlike the cunts we have nowadays.
It is horribly clichėd now, 'The streets of London', but its message still rings true, how selfish we are, how we despise the good, the pure, the holy. How little such as I care about the poor little Nigerian schoolgirls.
Vincent.
The people who work their way to the top of the political heap are precisely the people who should not be there, because of their desire to get to the top of the heap, and the amount of damage they are prepared to do to get there, and stay there.
They set off as hypocrites and strengthen this trait at every step they take on the way up.
There really should be a black hole right at the top.(I mean a solar black hole!!!!)
I had only read about her, earlier, Michelle, but have since seen and heard her, mr alphons; she is revolting beyond my powers of description but then, as you say, aren't they all?
My powers of description are quite broad, Mr Ishmael, would you like me to try?
Vincent
P.S. Not slapper, nor cunt, weasel, whore, bitch, opportunist, etc, etc, shall I use.
There are a thousand other ways to tell it how ot is.
Vincent.
Type this into a browser, Mr Ishmael, and the lost post will resurface for you:
cache:http://mrishmael.blogspot.com/2014/05/wotsontelly-price-of-everything-value.html
Thanks so much for that, mr enoch; magic, that's what I think, that sort of understanding. Sometimes I can figure this stuff out, other times it defeats me. I will try to remember this particulat spell.
I cant't stand the septics, as I have mentioned previously.
But we are at an interesting interesting threshold of change, in the enlightened West. On the one hand the nouveau communistes - the EU commissars - looking to reimpose totalitarianism. And on the other, the hanmburger culture of America - looking to roll their flab all over the world.
As someone once said (was it Mrs T): I don't know if I'm being fucked or buggered.
Its getting harder to find a corner of the world to avoid these bastards. Russia is looking increasingly attractive.
Mr Mike,
You're right there, Russia being attractive, seriously. Putin seems a bit of a nob, but at least his nobbishness manifests itself in a desire to protect the motherland, not throw it away for a few quid.
Thought about moving there. Really.
Vincent.
O/T, but is it just me, is it, or is the sight of a full-bearded man in a fucking dress, being fawned over by sycophantic morons just fucking appalling? The Eurovision Song Contest has always been unintentionally amusing, but this takes the fucking biscuit.
Vincent
I saw the headline, mr vincent, and have steered clear of the story. You know how liberal I am but I forbid you from bringing it in here. Christ alfuckingmighty, when will people realise that the saying so often here rehearsed - there's no business like showbusiness - is not a joyous acclamation but a cry of fucking horror.
Maybe this poor creature of whom you speak could be elected Speaker of the House of Commons, or ChairTranny of the PBC, maybe head of the NHS; seems the right sort of person.
I was channel-hopping at the end of 'The Battle of Britain' film last night - always love the scene at the end with the Germans throwing their life-jackets away - and came across the voting for the Euro song contest. Mercifully I'd missed the actual singing but the voting is generally good for a bit of a laugh as (say) Belarus give (say) Russia 12 points each. Or Greece giving Turkey nul points.
I can't help but think that for all the Woganesque piss-taking by Graham Norton that Wogan would have been unmerciful to the lady-boy that won. It was fucking hilarious to watch him fanning his hands around his face like some caricature drag queen. Which he is.
Surprise of the night was Ireland awarding England 8 (I think) points. Maybe they included the north. I can't believe the Irish would ever give England anything.
Maybe it's some kind of highly-evolved fag that becomes his own beard, if you see what I mean. Post-modern ruin or something. They played a clip of interview on the radio this morning: the bizarre sausage sounded very sure of himself and asserted "we are unstoppable!" Ein Volk - ein Reich - ein Buttplug...
(NB bizarre sausage cos bizarre's root - Basque I think - means bearded and HerrFrau Oesterreich's drag-name is Wurst.)
"No Wurst, there is none" as GM Hopkins almost said...
I warned mr vincent and I can warn you two an' all. Enough fucking horrors lurking in what I am pleased to call my mind without Singing EuroLadyMenMonsters. Fuck me, somebody should introduce he, she or it to that Methodist freak who was at the Co-op, there is surely a business opportunity, there. Ein volk, ein reich und ein buttplug does seem, mr verge, to echo a contemporary German aspiration. Isn't it the home of poo'n'pee porn, the Fatherland?
I nearly always take a peek at the Battle of Britain film. It was a big, big production but the more I see of it the less worthy it seems. I suspect everyone of a certain age enjoys the lifebelts scene, Himmler's rage and Dowding's fatalistic insouciance in the face of ministerial meddling. But the big-name actors are poor and wooden, Caine, More and Olivier especially so; the special effects, particularly the bombing of British airfields are childishly executed, explosions all neatly self contained, the destroyed Spitfires so obviously made of cardboard and I am sure we see the same Heinkel crash into the Channel half a dozen times, but it was of its time and even decades after the war, still propagandiste. I finally gave up on the Great Escape and probably will tire of the Battle of Britain, although however ineptly portrayed, the story, itself, is magnificent. Without those young men we might all now be pooing in each other's mouths, like good Germans. As things stand such activities remain largely the preserve of our parliamentarians.
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