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The chronicles of Ruin, continued. Call me Ishmael said....intelligence is knowing what to do when you don't know what to do. Anonymous said... When I don't know what to do,I come here. 10 September 2009 22:59
27 comments:
boris de bastard bastard bastard blunderbus johnson is probably, at this very moment, munching away, with smug carnivorous content, on a juicy charcoal-grilled alpaca-burger, blithely unaware that, along with the bonny bright-eyed geronimo, he has irredeemably culled his own approval-ratings...
and quite honestly, given that, under the cover of a phantom-killer-pandemic, our catastrophe-prone prime minister has - as part of a deep-state donald-deposing democracy-decimating conspiracy - presided over the systematic extermination - by deliberate treatment-denial - of over one hundred-thousand elderly or vulnerable british citizens - and has got away with it - it must be said that this current act of complacency-cultivated self-destruction just couldn't have been performed by a more stupid and self-satisfied fucking person.
karma kills the conservative chamaeleon
woz it coz i woz black?
I know, mr ultrapox, it was an outrageous piece of I-Know-Bestism, the Establishment refusing to be swayed by sense or compassion. It had me in tears, useless, impotent, angry tears.
I'm not excusing the Save Geronimo movement, though - their grandstanding caused the poor beast to be terrified, dragged away by masked, PPE'd servants of the state and Britain's finest police officers. When it became apparent that they had failed and that Geronimo would be killed, couldn't they have got the local vet out to administer the lethal injection, quietly and calmly, to Geronimo in his stable, with his mum holding him to ease his passing?
It's all God's fault, yet again - giving mankind dominion over the birds of the air, the beasts of the field and all the creatures that do crawl on their bellies in the dirt. We're a bad lot, you know, and, as mr ishmael said, if the animals had a religion, we'd be Satan. Time to get out the Vegetarian Cookbook again.
on a more constructive note, i've been pondering the slightly awkward problem - now faced by holiday-home secretary priti "pontins" patel - of where to house all those desperate afghan refugees...
and then i remembered all those spacious spare rooms primely located within tony blair inc's 39 prestigious properties.
That's just a rehersal for how they will deal with the un-vaxxed.
I do not know much about the science of it but the incompetence of the animal management was horrible. The poor critter. I sometimes think that the English are the most stupid of people. Give them a rule and they'll follow it.
Yes, mr mike, it is a chilling moment when one realises that one's existence is entirely dependent on the forbearance of the State. And as mr mongoose reminds us, there are always plenty of willing hands to carry out the orders of the Executive.
Blair has a property portfolio of 39 homes, mr ultrapox? Really? The utter fucking bastard.
And that's not how you lead a large animal on a halter. That is guaranteed to make it fight you and get upset.
And if only there were enough such coppers to police the streets of Bradford and Rochdale protecting young, white girls, eh?
iz it coz i iz black?
mind you, talking about tony blair and needy afghan immigrants...
i hear that the dog-catcher of kabul, mr "pen-and-ink" farthing, has rescued 173 stray cats and canines - which obviously now require a good uk home...
but hey, surely they'd all just love to shack up in the connaught square kennel with cherie.
mr mongoose, i deeply resent the racially-charged implication that i have molested any young white girls.
yes, mrs ishmael, according to the ever-thorough mail, and the cia's usually somnolent guardian of socialist values, theufb blair, his ufb missus, and their neo-liberally nested brood do in fact possess a combined property portfolio containing 39 prime properties.
now, since being born to one of the greatest neo-liberal ufbs in british history cannot fairly be considered a fault of their own making, i rather hesitate to dub the unfortunate blair-brats ufbs themselves...
but just so long as they keep the bloody hell out of politics, of course.
by the way, mrs blair is apparently on-the-record as absolutely loving interactions of a feline kind.
Also, being a simple-minded soul, I am confused. If TB in humans is treatable - and indeed completely curable - by the use of antibiotics, why is a similar approach not available for critters? Surely it cannot be a question of money and the value of the cattle/beef/dairy industry? If a body wants to spend his hard-earned curing his alpaca of bTB by using expensive antibiotics, surely that is the body's decision and not the government's?
should my post mortem indicate that i never in fact contracted bovine tuberculosis, there's gonna be an alpucking revolution in this animal-loving country...
so why did boris baron of beast-control and his over-controlled advisors fail to foresee this reactionary eventuality?
[hint: obsession with exercize of power and lack of freedom to express opinions could be subjects germane to this question's solution]
of course, if i'd been born a white alpaca, called "boris" and attended eton, i am bloody well sure that none of this would have happened...
however, having said that, i reckon it could still be worth testing david cameron and jeremy clarkson for bovine tb - since we might just get lucky.
anti-bloody-biotics?
oh capital, mr mongoose...
whatever next?
ah, "vaccinations", i hear you say, mr mongoose, "vaccinations" - and on whom would they test these experimental "vaccinations"...?
i'll tell you on whom they'd test these "vaccinations", mr mongoose...
...on effing alpacas, that's who.
personally, i think we'd all feel a whole lot better, if we shot a few fucking badgers.
There's Something more sinister to this..
My cynical senses are telling me this is an attack on liberal sensibilities. (liberal in the true sense of the word).
Just when things look to be getting back to a semblance of normality we need to be reminded who holds sway.
Corrupt and incompetents in science and politics sending out their minions to do their bidding.
The copper turns up in a car emblazoned with pride colours like the masked avenger.
They couldn’t just put the thing down in its stall. They had to make a song and dance about it.
The grandstanding of it all was shocking, mr shoulders. I thought it was just stupidity and thoughtlessness on both sides, but, now you have raised your dark explanation - of course you're correct. Big message - we're in power, we can do what the fuck we want, and you just eat it.
mr mongoose is perfectly correct - the reason that Geronimo was killed, the reason that badgers are killed, is that the British want to eat cheap meat and the beef industry needs to maximise its profits by keeping down the overheads. Bovine tuberculosis can be prevented by vaccinating the herds against it. (shush with the anti-vaxxing, mr ultrapox). But it costs money. In order to disguise this simple explanation, DEFRA, ably abetted by all the resources of the state, kills wild and domesticated animals.
And there's a thing, amongst we predators - some animals can be our chums - fellow predators, cats and dogs; but other animals are for eating. We even feed them to our dogs and cats. So mr ultrapox's friend, Geronimo, is correct with his plaintive cry from beyond the grave - "is it because I is/woz black" It is because, like George Floyd, you are neither human nor the chum of humans.
Mr Mongoose, I'm sure you will have noticed how coppers shy away from innocents being tortured.
The steroids and whatnot that are injected into cattle to make them big cost a few bob as well.
I read years ago of young males in Brazil growing tits due to the hormones in chicken meat.
Sure that decree (Or whatever science calls these things these days) which would have banned growth hormone use in this country would have been lifted long ago.
It's the profit see? Shareholders gotta sharehold.
Then there's the sewage outlets into the sea, discharging human-hormone laden urine and faeces into the sea, creating hermaphrodite fish.
whilst, i'm no expert on bovine tb infection and its remedies, mrs ishmael - and have nix invested in the bovine tb debate, save perhaps some residual wishy-washy liberal emotions - i am nevertheless given to understand that, as matters remain, vaccination of cattle against bovine tuberculosis is not particularly effective and, confusingly, causes those beasts vaccinated to produce false-positive results for bovine tb.
i furthermore understand that, for the above-presented reasons, any improved vaccine against bovine tb would have to be administered, at considerable cost, to infection-susceptible wildlife...
and inevitably, therefore, i'm afraid that it will all come down to jabbing badgers in the arse with huge bloody needles.
my own preference, naturally, would be to prioritise for any future bovine tb vaccination such insalubrious specimens of undomesticated free-wheeling fauna as david the cameldigit, jeremy the klaxon, and boris the bullfrog.
All of the TBs are bacterial. That is to say, they yield to antibiotics. It is true that bTB in humans requires a lengthy and expensive course of treatment. One must imagine a similarity in alpacas merely because there will not be any studies or evidence. The point is that TB is endemic in the world, and in the animal world. It is a matter simply of economics that we slaughter the (allegedly, m'lud) infected in order to maintain the value of our other livestock. I am surprised that alpacas are not required to wear anti-bTB masks. It seems so obviously sensible a precaution.
The unfortunate animal was used to send a signal to the populace, as Mrs I rightly points out. We are in very sinister times, methinks. My own adopted country, Australia, is a case in point.
It's a bad business, Mrs I. I like this, though:
"When the mouse died, there was a sort of pity:
the tiny, delicate creature made for grief.
Yesterday, instead, the dead whale on the reef
drew an excited multitude to the jetty.
How must a whale die to wring a tear?
Lugubrious death of a whale: the big
feast for the gulls and sharks; the tug
of the tide simulating life still there,
until the air, polluted, swings this way
like a door ajar from a slaughterhouse.
Pooh! pooh! spare us, give us the death of a mouse
by its tiny hole; not this in our lovely bay.
—Sorry, we are, too, when a child dies;
but at the immolation of a race, who cries?"
I wonder, now, if we are even sorry when a child dies? Rather the reverse, we've industrialised the process.
whilst i accept no liability for the intemperate ideological outbursts of mr geronimo's radical marxist ghost, mrs ishmael, i nevertheless feel i ought apologize for his unpasteurized and unpardonably trenchant gallows-humour - which, as you will doubtless appreciate, has been seriously aggravated by his having had rather a rough week...
and indeed, on mr geronimo's behalf, i consider myself truly chastized for his cheapening and trivializing of the endemic and systemic racial oppression against which black fellows struggle every last day of their lives, and which, these past several hundred imperialism-indentured years, has instituted the arbitrary classification of those not in the tufty club as unmenschen - or other-beings - such that, in the same manner as befell our bouncy bovine friend, incidentally identified underdogs - in neon-lit theatres of neo-colonial niggercide extending from the vietnam and afghanistan wars-on-paranoia to the human-and-mineral-resource-conflicts of kongo and congo - have forever been considered fair game extras for equally arbitrary slaughter.
yes, mr bungalow bill, what a provocative little poem...
and thus, i suppose, here in the uk, the death of one alpaca dilutes the domestic political impact of a devastating isis-bomb, whilst, in western minds generally, that single suicide-bombing erases a thousand-and-one allied cruise-missiles gaily gate-crashing afghan family-mealtimes; polite neo-liberal society has been on a psychological bender which is gonna leave it with a terrible hangover-against-humanity.
of course, the ultimate tragedy of mr geronimo's aimless un-burger-productive destruction is that, as a professional stud, his enforced transportation to this country should, by rights, have at least culminated in a decent degree of adult alpaca-fun.
exactly, mr ultrapox...
and you know what they say about black alpacas...
mr bungalow bill, thank you for the poem by John Blight (don't be impressed by my erudition - I had to look it up!) Like mr ultrapox, I agree that it is pertinent and provocative. Did you know that public executions were abolished in Britain because they were so popular that it was impossible to control the crowds? In February 1807 it was only after the gallows was drawn back into Newgate that the area could be cleared to reveal the full extent of the tragedy amongst spectators eager to witness a good hanging. 27 bodies were discovered at the scene and there were a further 70 people requiring hospital treatment.
Human Beings - evolutionary dead end.
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