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Open Letter: ‘Noble Liberals,’ Did Paris Victims Bring it on Themselves? (1/2)

Open Letter: ‘Noble Liberals,’ Did Paris Victims Bring it on Themselves? (1/2)

After the massacre at Charlie Hebdo, the magazine’s defenders were ridiculed as being ‘freedom of speech fundamentalists.’ The ‘semi-non-apologists’ of Coulibaly assumed the usual attitude:

Sure, it’s NOT THAT GREAT to kill someone merely for being a cartoonist… but… OMG, just look at that cartoon! I find that SO offensive!

Now, silence from the conspicuously enlightened Huggy-Downglance Brigade.

No-one dares to speak out, and blame the unnecessary offence and grievance the concert-goers in Paris caused to anyone (not least the ‘wrong kind of liberal’) who believes ‘freedom of speech demands accountability.’

I’m waiting!

O ye blessed and highminded ones! You have your ‘accountability’ now. Are you satisfied?

Time after time, whenever innocent people are massacred by political Islamists, the same noble hand-wringing…

They must have really done something to deserve this!

Or again:

‘We’ must really have done something to deserve this!

Well, isn’t it interesting that anti-monarchists who are normally so keen to denounce the ‘royal we,’ the ‘dictator’s pronoun,’ can’t seem to make distinctions of guilt and innocence! So, let’s just pause for breath here, and think for just one little moment about how one might or might not explore the tired but sadly indispensable theme of ‘root causes.’

Do you criticise misguided or even pernicious foreign policies?
So do I.

Do you think that there are problems of economic opportunity, career mobility and prejudice that afflict Muslims in France/UK/USA?
So do I.

Do you think that the any foolish adventurism in Iraq is difficult to disassociate from a broader authoritarian and actually ‘illiberal’ culture of trying to save ‘the natives’ from themselves via various soft and hard power strategies?Yes, that’s right. I agree with you there… for once!

And needless to say, many people from across the whole centre left to centre right spectrum can easily agree with these points. This is not about ‘left and right’ or ‘moderate and extreme.’

But of course, that’s really not enough, is it! Because what I don’t agree with at all is the notion that, purely on account of inappropriate policy decisions or social inequality, it is justifiable to make the usual default, knee-jerk reaction…

By apportioning blame to innocent people.

Are ‘our’ foreign policies dissociable from the rise of ISIS? Of course not.

But it is one thing to apportion responsibility and even guilt. It is quite another to go overboard and pursue an endless self-lacerating quest for a cozy Motherland of morbidly orgasmic white liberal thigh-lashing.

(With or without the Gilead’s balm of Starbucks to assuage your gushy tears of thwarted metropolitan repentance!)

So, if you wish to discuss some of the ‘possible causes’ of the massacres this month, then just go ahead. Knock yourself out, in every way imaginable! But here’s the problem I alluded to at the beginning of this piece:

The people killed in November 2015 are no more or no less innocent than the people killed in January 2015.

Do you understand this? Is it really so hard to grasp?

Well I can tell you something now. While jihadists may find cartoons of Muhammad ‘offensive,’ they also find music offensive too. I mean, you may laugh at Bono. But he actually refer to the terrorist attacks (or as you will no doubt be inclined to call them, ‘armed militant attacks’) as being a ‘direct hit on music.’

And yes, he is absolutely correct about that. He couldn’t be more right!

(Although in fairness, don’t tell him I said that!)

But this direct hit on music was initiated by those who believe in some of the most bigoted, backward and obscurantist ideological figures in Islam. Forget the greats like the mystics and poets, such as Rumi or Ibn Arabi or al-Hallaj. Why don’t you have a butcher’s at the rather straight-laced Ibn Taymiyyah, forerunner of Ibn Wahhab of theocratic notoriety, who said:

Music is the alcohol of the soul.

I couldn’t agree more! But unlike him, I don’t think that is a bad thing at all. Yet sadly, the people who perpetrated the massacres in Paris did think it was a bad thing. As wicked, vile and depraved as it gets!

In fact, I really don’t know what they found more offensive; a cartoon of their prophet, or people standing around, dancing and singing and loving and having fun?

No idea!

Well, that’s a pity.

Join us next time…

Hold on to your necks!


Posted in Human Interest, World News0 Comments

Putin & ISIS: Tyranny’s Latest Flamboyant Supergroup

Putin & ISIS: Tyranny’s Latest Flamboyant Supergroup

Universally beloved plastic pop enterprise X Factor has finally lost its shine.

Yup! No-one ever believed this classic of early 21st century manufactured inanity would ever end up being discredited by a flamboyant and sexually doubting, um, sexually dubious former KGB Lenin lookalike…

But such is life!

Or as Louis Walsh would no doubt belt out in his cups:

‘C’est la Vie!’

Still, the hidden hand of the music industry has guided the nation of Russia to unanticipated progress; all by means of mere individual self-interest!

Yes, just see this storming (not to say stormtrooping!) video of Russia’s most swishiest Elton John admirer for proof:

Oof! Look daddy, no hands!

Admittedly, that was way back in 2010. But Vladimir Putin has recently been invited by the notable karaoke fan(-atics) ISIS to educate them on the error of their ways. Their mutual commitment to rockin’ n’ jammin’ on human rights is likely to result in an unanticipated explosion of carnivalesque fellow-feeling and brotherhood. Continue Reading


Posted in Music, World News0 Comments

Tapped Phone Conversation Between Putin and Assad Proves Revealing

Tapped Phone Conversation Between Putin and Assad Proves Revealing

The famous expose website Wakileaks (yes, that is spelled correctly) has successfully tapped into a most intriguing phone call between those two most beloved of dictators in the world- Bashar al-Assad and his Grace Vladimir Putin of Russia. We have the transcript here just as it was translated from the phone tap:


Putin: Hello my old buddy Bashar! How are you doing?

Assad: Ah, Putin! My best friend, my ally, my colleague, the guy who saves my butt! How are you yourself?

Putin: Oh, quite good, old chum. A few miscreant Chechens here and there, but nothing like what you are having to put up with.

Assad: Yes, truly. But there are still a lot of loyal soldiers between me and my miscreants. I have so many who would fight and die for me that even if half of them were to be killed their dead bodies would still make a wall high enough to keep the rebels….er, ‘terrorists’ out!

Putin: Yes, Bashir, you must be careful to use the right terminology these days. Be sure to call them ‘terrorists’ so that we keep the Westerners on our side.

Assad: I bow to your wisdom, Czar Putin! It is your genius that is tearing apart my enemies both in Syria and in the rest of the western world as well. Your latest ploy, to let the rebel Syrian men and families flee through Russia to Norway couldn’t be better! They escape into the one northern land that is not European Union, take seed amongst one of the smallest populated countries in Europe and suddenly we have a force of people to draw upon in one of the richest countries in the world! Brilliant!

Putin: Yes! And the fool westerners do not even question why they do not simply ask for asylum in Russia. As though we would want them. Of course I would have my loyal Cossacks to deal with those who want to settle here just as they dealt with the Jews that we used to have a problem with. Now they are all in Israel or in a cold, unattended, anonymous grave!

Assad: It will be so great when we can begin siphoning some of that abundant oil money they have in Norway to our own causes back here at home. And the rest of the immigrants fleeing to Europe will tear the EU apart better than any atom bomb. Already they are re-erecting the borders that they so proudly tore down back in the ’90’s!

Putin: Indeed! Not to mention draining the economy of those who are having to deal with them. But that is not all. Already the covert plants we put into France have already begun to sow destruction in Paris. Soon Europe will be so Muslimized that it will be like a reverse Crusade! I will remind them of the power of the Soviet bear! This is their fate for the sanctions they levied upon us for taking Crimea! Anything that Russia seizes in its paws shall remain Russian forever and ever!

Assad: Um….speaking of which, Vladimir……do you intend on returning to me those parts of Syria that your planes and your ground troops have taken over fighting the rebels?

Putin: Ahhhh…..yes……of course I do! Whatever would make you think that? I mean….we are comrades! We cannot betray each other.

Assad (sounding somewhat doubtful) Hmmmm…. I remember that famous photo of Russian President Brezhnev giving the East German President Honecker a kiss right before pawning him and all the other Eastern European communist satellites out to the West.

Putin (trying to sound reassuring) Oh, come now Bashar! Do you really think I would betray you like a Jewish Judas?

Assad (speaking levelly) Just in case I mined the Syrian harbor we allow your naval vessels to use.

Putin: Oh……..OK……… guess I better get back to work killing those rebels……..

Assad: Might not be a bad idea. Bye.



Posted in Politics, Strange People0 Comments

Opinion: Ted Cruz is right. Why We Should Turn Away Refugees

Opinion: Ted Cruz is right. Why We Should Turn Away Refugees

In the wake of the deadly Isis terrorist attacks on Paris which killed 129 people and wounded hundreds more, the issue of whether or not to continue taking in refugees has divided us here in the United States of America, home of the free, land of the brave.

On Fox News, Senator and Presidential hopeful Ted Cruz said, “President Obama and Hillary Clinton’s idea that we should bring tens of thousands of Syrian Muslim refugees to America—it is nothing less than lunacy. On the other hand Christians who are being targeted for genocide, for persecution, Christians who are being beheaded or crucified, we should be providing safe haven to them. But President Obama refuses to do that.”

Bravo to Senator Cruz for taking such a brave and unpopular stance on such a volatile issue! Continue Reading


Posted in Opinon/Editorial, Politics, Religionism0 Comments

Accepting Refugees: Don’t Judge Eastern Europe too Harshly…? (2/2)

Accepting Refugees: Don’t Judge Eastern Europe too Harshly…? (2/2)

From last time:

Do you think that Greece can welcome and integrate as many refugees as Germany?

Let’s not forget, at the risk of sounding patronising, that many countries in Eastern Europe are not as prosperous as some of the more fortunate Western European countries.

So, if you have a sturdy lifeboat that can accommodate 30 people, and a rickety one that can accommodate 15, and Libya is currently a sinking ship, wouldn’t you want to take the differences between the vessels of safety into consideration?

The metaphor is problematic in some ways, but I would hope it will be read charitably and in the cautiously openhearted spirit intended.

Of course, it may well be that such discussions have been made already, on a larger continental level. But that brings me to one last point: who decides?

It’s a reasonable question, and I take up the thread again today.

Who decides?

Who decides how which countries accept which number of asylum seekers?

On what basis?

Does everyone have an equal say? Continue Reading


Posted in Serious Commentary, Top Stories0 Comments

Accepting Refugees: Don’t Judge Eastern Europe too Harshly…? (1/2)

Accepting Refugees: Don’t Judge Eastern Europe too Harshly…? (1/2)

The topic of accepting and welcoming refugees into Europe is deeply contentious. And the recent massacres in Paris and the stories of a Syrian passport have not helped matters.

But whatever one feels about this issue, it’s surely important to remember that ‘Europe’ is not a monolithic power bloc. Human minds are inclined to think in abstractions like ‘Europe.’ To a degree, this is unavoidable…

But do all Europeans bear an equal responsibility for accepting refugees?

I must be honest, and say I take a pragmatic approach to this question. Even if pragmatism isn’t always my stance, as some would no doubt be willing to affirm.

Let me be brutally honest. Continue Reading


Posted in Serious Commentary, Top Stories0 Comments

9/12/2001  – THE DAYS AFTER THE UNTHINKABLE HAPPENED  – The New New World Order – Part 17

9/12/2001 – THE DAYS AFTER THE UNTHINKABLE HAPPENED – The New New World Order – Part 17

The New New World Order
Part 17
(A serial book excerpt)

Previous installments – After Flight 93 crashes into the White House on 9/11/2001 killing President Bush as was originally planned, Dick Cheney, the Vice President, is made the leader of the country. He begins immediately to make changes.

– – – – – – – – – – –

The day was not beginning well for government employee Stan Bues. He regarded the document in his hand seriously. He reread it several times. The second time was to overcome the shock that had paralyzed his whole being from the first reading. The third was to try to read it with a rational steady mind. The fourth was to confirm that the darkness therein was real. It was.

Stan walked up the hall to where his manager was. He knew talking to him would not change things. But there was always the off chance that it would. But both their jobs depended upon total complicity with whatever passed through their agency. Going off on a tangent would threaten it. Being a conformist was the only way to survive many government jobs.

“Sir, it looks like President Cheney is wanting us to expand our spying on the Democratic Party and…..on all Americans as well. It has something to do with a Super computer complex that can record almost unlimited amounts of information.”

His boss was silent for a moment. Bues could tell he did not like this development, but it was impossible for him to guess at the thoughts that were going through his superiors mind. He knew it was not in their policy to do domestic spying, especially on another political party that showed no signs of violent threat to the President. But the whole tone of the agency had changed since Cheney’s ascendance, and now there was a dark, hovering presence over all of them.

“Is it the NSA?” he asked, a hesitancy sounding in his voice.

“Yes.” Bues answered meekly.

“Just do as he says, Bues.” his boss replied, this time without any hesitancy. He ended abruptly and turned, keeping the poker look on his face, although a good portion of his pride had just eroded and fallen away. This was a dark turn of events, loyal Americans being asked to spy on other Americans. But he too could sense the hovering.

Having been the Secretary of Defense was now serving Cheney well. He had never served in the military, had avoided all the hard work and humiliation that comes with being a soldier. Six times he had dodged the draft, yet was handed the most powerful military seat possible. He had been given the position of Secretary of Defense without ever having to put on a uniform himself. Now he could use the knowledge he had gained from the position to manipulate the tides of the war and the tides of fortune.

The war was already producing prisoners of the conflict. Many were suspected of being Al Queda members. Cheney was pulling the strings of the war on the western side. Smith brought before him a report that Cheney had to answer upon.

“Sir, there are now approximately 120 prisoners in Afghanistan that appear to have Al Queda affiliations. We will need to move them out of the prison they are held in now because it will become a focus of attacks to free them. The Generals are suggesting that they be removed out of the country. The question they ask is where. The generals seem to feel that al-Ha’ir Prison in Saudi Arabia would be a good vote.”

Cheney seized on the problem. “Hell no! The Saudi’s are the ones who started this mess in the first place! Half of the assholes flying into the Trade Towers were Saudi’s! They probably bankroll these Taliban jackasses. No, I would like them to be taken totally out of the Mideast. I would love to dump them on the Israelis, but I trust them only a couple iota’s more than the Saudi’s. Europe is not much better. They would probably let them go out of pity.”

“The Generals are also leaning towards Guantanamo.” said Smith evenly.

“Guantanamo…….” pondered Cheney. “No, I want them on true American soil. And I would want them to know they are real prisoners. Guantanamo is too much like their homeland. Warm. Sandy. No, I want them to suffer. Alaska. Alaska would be it. There is a prison in Seward that would do them justice. Let them freeze their asses off. Then if they escape the bears will get them. They would never find their way back to Mecca from there.”

The aide waited patiently until he had finished. “Another question has arisen. What is to be done with them?” When Cheney hesitated he added “How shall they be treated?”

Cheney flashed his nasty smirk. “Bread and water and a whipping every hour would be fine by me. Push them all in a ditch and bury them alive. But I suppose we will have every liberal crying for their sake from here to Paris. Normal prisoner of war treatment I suppose, but we have to make sure that none of these characters ever get a chance to escape.”

“The Generals would like a more specific answer.”

“More specific?”

“To what level shall information be gleaned from them?”

Cheney shrugged and smirked darkly. “Oh, I see. How much shall we play patty-cake with them. As far as I am concerned we can skewer them on pegs like Vlad the Impaler.” He grew more serious. “We need to pull out all stops. We need to do whatever we need to get information from these little pricks. I don’t care if you have to blind them with knitting needles. We need to know what they know. None are innocent. None! They are all like ants over there. What one knows all others know as far as I am concerned.” He stopped and breathed heavily for a moment. “It will all have to be kept secret. Keep it over there in Iraq and Afghanistan as much as possible.” He leaned forward in thought. “There are other countries who will help us. They owe us and they know it. They allow dirty little things to happen in their country and they know how to keep it underground. We don’t need a bunch of people whooping and hollering about us abusing them.” Cheney thought for a moment. “You can pass that on to the Generals.”

The aide duly noted it and swiftly left the room.

“We need someone to keep these do-gooders at the UN at bay. Someone with some bite a true sense of the conservative agenda.” said Cheney.

“Do you have anyone in mind?” asked Penegrin.

Cheney had a spring loaded answer for him. “Bolton. He is a man who can get things done our way. He doesn’t put up with any shit. And when some appears on his plate, he lets everyone know about it.”

“He is a bulldog, isn’t he? He would definitely stick up for our interests, wouldn’t he?”

“That would be his only purpose. Watching out for our own interests is something he is good at. Our interests are the same as his interests. And he is greedy and arrogant. Two good qualities in any Republican.”

Rumsfeld laughed at this. “I never looked at it that way, before. I second that idea. We need to get a lasso around these foreigners from every little dinky country who think they can tell us the way things should go. I wouldn’t mind seeing them get hog-tied every once in a while. And I think Bolton is just the man to do that.”

“Good. I’m glad we see eye to eye on this. Let’s get this on the road.” Cheney returned.

Strings were pulled and unseen negotiations made. John Bolton became the Secretary of State. Wheels beneath the surface began to turn. Underground plans soon began to manifest above ground. A new new world order had begun.

“It is a good thing that we have Bolton in such a strategic position. His bark is bad enough to keep the U.N. pussies at bay. Nobody’s going to try to pull anything over on him.”

“But what does his aggressiveness do for our foreign policy? He alienates a lot of other countries.”

“So what if he does? We need to keep our image up of being a bull dog nation. I think a real pit bull like Bolton does that quite nicely.”

“I think we need to listen to other countries. They have stakes in this whole thing too.” said Administator Bains.

Cheney pulled up close to Bains. “Here is what we can do. You go, listen to them and record what they say. The day I am interested I will come look you up.” Cheney then left in a huff.

Bains looked over at McComb. This nasty guy is our President? How do these things happen?”

“Just wait until he crowns himself Emperor.”

Cheney, walking up the hall, leaned over to McGurty and said, “I wish to God that I could make Bolton my VP. Then we could get things done! Unfortunately he is too far down the ladder and too unpopular. He would be even more acid than DeLay. I could just see the press calling us the Hitler brothers. But then again…..”


– – – – – – – – – –

The complete book of 9/12/2001 is available from under that exact title for $10.00 plus shipping. Now available as an e-book on lulu as well.


Posted in Politics, Serious Commentary0 Comments

Clinton Calls Out Bush for ‘Establishment Hypocrisy’

Clinton Calls Out Bush for ‘Establishment Hypocrisy’

The Dynasty Wars are heating up. Never mind Romance of the Three Kingdoms. Clinton vs Bush is where it’s at!

Or at least, it’s where the money’s at, anyways!

See the transcript of Clinton’s latest semi-public post on the notable TOR website known as Dark Internet Policy Forum: Continue Reading


Posted in Celebrity Gossip, Politics0 Comments

The Great Trump’s First Day As President.

The Great Trump’s First Day As President.

Dolly Darling, the President’s Secretary, excitedly and fearfully puts the finishing touches to the Oval Office, the new lair of her boss Donald Trump. He would be here shortly and she knows all too well how critical he is that everything should be perfect., or at least perfect as Donald Trump sees it. She knocks some lint off the large velvet rendition of Elvis in day glow colors in full rocker mode when he was still young and svelte. It hangs where the portrait of Thomas Jefferson used to.

Dolly dusts off the flashing neon light that screams ‘The Prez’ in eye-irritating flashing fluorescent scarlet above the door to all who come to seek the new Leader’s favor. Dolly Darling is not her real name, but she has used it for so long that she has almost forgotten her actual name. DD was her stage moniker as she moved up through the Atlantic City ranks from cigarette girl to stripper to bartender to Trump’s part-time lover. Now she culminates her career as the secretary to the President of the United States. She has already excitedly told all her friends, but not to her relatives to whom she disappeared years ago.

She hears the Mariachi band coming in that El Grande Hombre (as he wishes to be called by them) has ordered for his entrance into his new digs. “Oh, hello!” She smilingly greets the four dark skinned men dressed up as perfect stereo types of south of the border musicales right down to the over-sized sombreros. It was good they were all of varying height otherwise they would have taken up half the space in the room.

“So, do you speak English?” she asks them in as nice a way as she can. She normally didn’t like having anything to do with people who weren’t WASP’s, but she beamed her best smile and hoped it would work.

“Of course ma’am.” the taller one answered in accent-less English. “El Grande Hombre would put up with nothing less than American born mariachi players. We all have our birth certificates with us just in case.”

“Oh, that is wonderful.” she smiled. She was a bit taken back by his ability to communicate so well. She was used to the bus boys and janitors at Trump’s casinos who wouldn’t learn English if you beat them with a club. “OK! Go ahead and set yourselves up beside the door. He will be here any minute.”

Just as soon as she said that she heard the clip-clopping of Mr. Big’s (as Trump wanted to be called by all Anglo visitors to his new mansion) Allen Edmonds shoes as their hard, expensive soles met the polished marble of the White House’s floor. He, knowing that all Presidents wore these handmade American shoes, immediately ordered a pair and had them picked up by Air Force One. Nothing but the best for the new Prez.

“Hey babe! How’s it shaking?” stated President Trump to Dolly as he flamboyantly entered his new domain. “Is everything ramped up?”

“It is indeed, Mr. President Trump!” replied Dolly, flashing her best smile, despite feeling like there was the onset of an ulcer in her stomach.


The mariachi band started up, playing a tinny version of Hail To The Chief. When finished they smiled broadly thinking they had done well.

The Donald smiled for a moment, then said, “That was great guys! You can go now.” He held the door open for them as they left somewhat sheepishly.

“You got the place all ready, Dolly?”

“I sure do, Mr. Trump…..”

“Aah, aah now Dolly! ‘Mr. President!’ Remember that!”

“Of course, Mr. Trump President.”

Trump gleefully rubs his hands together. “So here I am! The President of the United States! It was destiny! It was Fate! It was a lot of conniving and baby kissing! So what, dear Dolly, is on my agenda for today?”

Dolly looks down at the schedule pad she has in her hands. “You have a meeting with the Governor of Macao over getting the Chinese approval for the Trump Amusement Park and Casino complex there…”

“How much do we have set aside in bribe money for them?”

“Umm….(she looks at her figures) $500,000.”

“Hmmm, that might not be enough, These Chinese officials are getting used to the big money now. Better make it $600,000.”

Dolly writes it down. “OK. After that you have a meeting with European Union officials about taking our share of Syrian refugees…”

“Oh hell! Have them give the refugees hand guns and send them back to Syria! They need to take care of their own troubles! Give them a memo to that effect and send them packing.”

“Oh, yes! President Putin called and wanted to chat about easing sanctions against Russia.”

“Hmm… Yeah, set up a time and I’ll talk to him. We shouldn’t burden him now that he’s become a good Capitalist. We don’t want them sliding back to communism. Also we need to reverse as many Obama policies as possible to make it look like we are really doing something here. Americans have forgotten about Ukraine and Crimea by now anyway.”

A light and buzzer flash on her desk. Dolly looks at it and says “Oh my! Gentlemen from Exxon, Halliburton and Shell Oil are here to see you!”

Trump beams. “My first visitors! Send them in! This shall be a portent of things to come!”

Three big, well dressed, imposing men come into the Oval Office. They all shake hands.

The first man speaks, “Greetings Mr. Big!” Trump beams at this. “I am Wonton Greid from Halliburton. This is Mr. Preise Gouger from Shell Oil and Mr. Merci Les Sleaze from Exxon Mobile Company. We just wanted to meet and congratulate you on your new conquest. It looks like you are set up real nice here.”

“Set up is the right way to put it, gentlemen. So, what can I do you out of today?”

“Oh, we just wanted to make sure we were all riding for the same brand here. Ours, namely.”

The three men all laugh uproariously over this. “Now we know that being as how you are a business man yourself you know how things go here. We all have to scratch each other backs.”

“And line each others pockets!” intercepted the Exxon man.

“Gentlemen, you are now looking at the biggest back scratcher in the United States.” He does a fake bow. “Let me put your fears to rest. As you said, I am a businessman. I know the road. Let me say it this way: Whatever your interests are, they are mine too. I am going to streamline this country so that it more effectively serves you, the industrial bosses of America. No more ‘Ask what can I do for my country.’ Instead it will be “What can this country do for me?” Money is the oil that lubricates this great land and we need lots of it!”

“So that we can get lubricated ourselves!” laughs the Exxon man at his own joke.

“Indeed!” agrees Trump. “And should everything go sour then we always have the American tax payer to bail us out. The set up we’ve had since the ’08 Recession has worked out quite fine so far- they pay the taxes and we use them to keep ourselves afloat!”

“Here, here!” say all three men together boisterously.

“Yes!” said the Shell Oil man enthusiastically. “The very best type of Capitalism there is- Socialized Corporate Bailout!”

“Indeed!” agreed Trump. “Nothing like good business practices to make sure the business comes our way!”

“Well, President Trump, it is great to see that you will be steering this country in the right direction, one very different than that Islamic communistic jungle bunny before you did!”

Trump raises his hand in vow, “I will fully fumigate this office, this government and this society of all democratic pestilence and keep it sanctifingly clean for our new religion, that of getting all you can as quickly and easily as you can.”

“Amen, sir, amen!” said the Halliburton man as they all heartily shook hands and left.

Dolly appears at the door again. “Hillary Clinton is on the phone to give her concession.”

“Oh, good! Put her through!” He listens for her voice. When he hears it he yells through the phone “Loser!” and hangs up. He hisses “Bitch!” under his breath.

Shortly there is another buzz. “President Mr. Trump, there is a Mr. LaPierre from the NRA to see you.”

“Good, good! Send him in.”

A moment later the severe face of the President of the National Rifle Association peeks through the door, a plastered smile across his face.

“Hey there, boss man! How is it going?”

“Great Wayne! Just great! Come on in!”

“I wanted to talk to you about what your stance on guns is going to be.”

“Can you sell them?”

“Oh, we sure can!”

“Then my stance is go for it! I am all for free enterprise as long as you ain’t givin’ them away for free!”

LaPierre chuckles at this. “Oh believe me, Mr. President, that is the only freedom we don’t believe in.”

They both laugh.

LaPierre gets serious again. “There is one other….. small…. trivial thing I wanted to discuss with you. I wanted to see if we could make one, small, slight basically insignificant change to the Constitution if you will.”

“What is that?”

“I think it would do the American public good, and our businesses as well, if we were to expand the Second Amendment to state that not only can we bear arms but also bazookas, cannons, tanks, surface to air missiles, personal fighter jets and a number of other personal paraphernalia. We are finding it rather limiting that individuals here are only allowed to have guns. We could also make billions more if they had some of the harder stuff.”

“And what is my cut of it?”

“’What did you say?”

Trump, somewhat louder, “What is my cut of it?”

“Ohh……um….. 15% of the profits…..”

“What is my cut of it?”

“Ahhhh….20% of it……”

“I seem to be having a hard time hearing you.”

“Oh… I said 25%.”

“Hmm, 25%. that is very generous of you. I think we can work with that amount.”

“Oh, thank you President Trump.”

“That’s Mr. Big….”

“Right, right, Mr. Big. Thank you Mr. Big.”
He keeps repeating this and bowing Japanese style as he exits backwards.

Trump pauses for a minute in reflection, then comes back to himself and buzzes Dolly. “Where are those buttons the Generals were showing me yesterday, Toots?”

Dolly comes in and opens up the top drawer of his desk. “Right here Sir.”

“Ahh so! Any bigger and it would have bit me! Thanks.”

She leaves as he sits down at his desk and contemplates the device. He thinks out load. “Now how did they say to set this thing?” He tinkers with it. “Where are those instructions?” He fishes out a big manual. “Green button- alert. Yellow button- setting up launch cycle. Red button- Attack. Oh yeah! And here a knob that lets you pick which country. Portugal, Senegal, Brazil, Luxembourg…..hmm…that is where I had that bad fish dinner and the waiter was rude. I should take them out. They aren’t much good for anything anyway.” He presses the button. “Oops, I probably shouldn’t have done that. Oh well, the EU can pick up the mess.”

The buzzer buzzes. “There are some veterans from the Iraqi War here to see you Mr. President Trump.”

“Oh God!” murmurs The Trump to himself. “Tell them that the welfare office is down the street. If they come again sic the guards on them. I don’t want to be disturbed for a while!”

He sits back and reflects back for a moment, then says “Hey honey! Do you have the remote for the TV here? Thanks doll!”


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Trump Riled He’s Not on Anon’s KKK List

Trump Riled He’s Not on Anon’s KKK List

Presidential hopeful and media prostitute Donald Trump took to Twitter Thursday evening, erupting at not being included in the Hacktivist organization Anonymous’ KKK list.

The billionaire Trump, whose campaign has revolved around deporting over 11 million illegal aliens if he’s elected President, insisted that he was deliberately omitted from the list in an attempt by Anonymous to attack his character. Continue Reading


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14 Reasons Ben Carson is a Crazy Person (with video!)

14 Reasons Ben Carson is a Crazy Person (with video!)

Dr. Ben Carson is catching up in some polls, and leading the pack in others. You may already know he’s a brain surgeon, but did you also know he’s a crazy person?

You don’t have to take it from me, though. Not when you’ve got the molten madness pouring directly out of his cuckoo-spouter.

This isn’t more “gotcha” journalism Republicans like to complain about. Well, I guess it is because it’s as easy and fair as anything which has come up in the debates. Continue Reading


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Cuddly Kitten It’sNoCan’t Invents Funny Tales to Amuse Children (Story 2)

Note: I think the following story from an anonymous source is really rather foolish, trite and lacking in serious artistic maturity.

It is excessively fantastical, it is whimsical to the point of nonsensical, and quite frankly, I am tempted to say that the author has all but wasted their time.

I do not see anything in this story other than nonsensical tomfoolery, and a pseudo-artistry which borders on the idiotic. Still, I have decided to print it anyway. See the following link:

Continued from last time:

With a most congenial purr of satisfaction, It’sNoCan’t said:

The Chameleo-Jumpies were responsible for the Great Chameleon Massacre! And their naughty friends, the nasty Hobby-Horsie-Zebra-Giraffists were the chief collaborators of the Chameleon killers!

The babbling babes hanging on the every word of their cuddly friend exploded with laugher. Albeit, sad to say, I use ‘explode’ in a merely figurative sense. After all, I didn’t say this wasn’t a silly story!

With every quaint and amusing fairy tale, the laughter in the open nuclear-and-otherwise bunker got louder and louder. Continue Reading


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Cuddly Kitten It’sNoCan’t Invents Funny Tales to Amuse Children (Story 1)

Note: I think the following story from an anonymous source is really rather foolish, trite and lacking in serious artistic maturity.

It is excessively fantastical, it is whimsical to the point of nonsensical, and quite frankly, I am tempted to say that the author has all but wasted their time.

I do not see anything in this story other than nonsensical tomfoolery, and a pseudo-artistry which borders on the idiotic. Still, I have decided to print it anyway. See the following link:

Critic of feral kitty-kats, non amateur-naughty-story-theorist & professional (-ish!) moderate-political-storyteller Prim-Prim ‘Tall Story’ It’sNoCan’t…

Has recently joked that mutual enemies the Iguana Statists, the Cheeky Cuckoos and the Southpaw Cats Information Agency temporarily put aside their differences recently, and staged the Grand(-iloquently Silly) Funny Street Furfight Massacre.

This notable professional cutiekins giggled and jested, between bouts of spurting out some sloppy gobbings from the saucer of milk cunningly placed by an unknown foreign benefactor… Continue Reading


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9/12/2001 THE DAYS AFTER THE UNTHINKABLE HAPPENED A Visit To Kazakhstan Part 16

9/12/2001 THE DAYS AFTER THE UNTHINKABLE HAPPENED A Visit To Kazakhstan Part 16

A Visit To Kazakhstan
Part 16
(A serial book excerpt)

Previous installments – After Flight 93 crashes into the White House on 9/11/2001 killing President Bush as was originally planned, Dick Cheney, the Vice President, is made the leader of the country. He begins immediately to make changes.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

The Presidential plane flew high as it began its circling before landing. Although the plane had, of course, precedence over any others landing at the midsized field, this was done as a tactic to ward off enemies who might have successfully hid themselves in the terrain with anti-aircraft weaponry. The high altitude would induce them to shoot, but they would be beyond their range. Satisfied, the plane began its long coast downward.

Cheney gazed out at the Kazakhstan landscape below him. He could already see the State vehicles and personnel awaiting him. Of course a big show would be put on for the President of the mightiest nation on earth. Anything less would be an insult. He thought of how impressive this must be to these backwoods hicks. He thought of how easy it must be to manipulate these people- so bound by a dominant religion, so used to being controlled by the government after being conditioned by the Soviets for so many centuries.

The plane eased itself to the ground. From this angle he could see the banners the crowd awaiting had for him. Too professionally done to be from themselves. No doubt a majority of them were paid a pittance to show up as though being regular, enthusiastic citizens. And no doubt many were part of the security apparatus that couldn’t dare let anything happen to the leader of a country who could squeeze the life out of them if anything disastrous happened to him while he was there.

Russia had become a major player in the world oil industry. In a way the break up of the Soviet Union had hastened their entry into this most capitalistic of enterprises. It made them wake up to the realities of the way the rest of the world worked financially. It also made them realize everything was going to be different from then on.

Kazakhstan, for decades a satellite of the Soviet bear, was now on its own. But of all the ex-Soviet satellites, it stood upon the firmest ground, for under that ground was a wealth of oil, enough to keep the former communist republic from getting buried by the Tsunami shock of having to deal with foreign currencies that had more punch than the disregarded ruble. Oil has, in our century, become an international currency in itself, and a highly valued one.

Realizing their mutual need for each other; the Russians needed the international currency of fluid resources and the Kazakhs needing the support that was suddenly pulled out from under them by the fall of the Iron Curtain, so they supported each other almost as much as in the old days. The Kazakhs pumped the oil, the Russians built the pipelines. Mikhail Khodorkovsky was the Russian whiz and the country’s richest man who put it all together, then President Putin had him thrown in prison and made the oil industry a governmental concern. International financial troubles solved! Everyone wants to be friends with a land that has lots of oil.

Now the United States wanted to be their friend too. Russia, as big as it was, did not need all the oil that Kazakhstan produced. The bright brains of the Pentagon and CIA wanted to make sure we got it before the Chinese or Indians did. Being a Muslim country didn’t make it easy, but they were not as easily inflamed as their counterparts down south over religious matters. They were happy just to have abundant money for the first time in their lives. In a way it made it easier since the Russians didn’t care who they sold it too as long as they got their share. Hence Cheney’s trip. Thought was that if the President himself showed up at their door, they were more likely to open it.

Cheney’s briefing on his visit gave him to believe that it would be an easy journey. Despite their Russian handlers, the Kazakhs were still pretty politically naive, having been cut off from the world for so many years. A visiting American President coming would trump most religious and political sentiment there was. This time, though, there would be no super safe Green Zone to bed down in. Cheney would have to stay at one of the palaces belonging to President Nursultan Nazarbayev . The best hotel in the capital would still be the equivalent of a third tier D.C. dig. Plus the palace offered a greater security. Even in this land there were a few radicals who would love the legendary status of bringing down yet another U.S. President.

That is why Cheney found it odd that President Nazarbayev had so little time to confer with him. Normally this would have tripped off an alarm in Cheney’s head, but with all the other exotic distractions around him Cheney did not think of it as anything strange. After his conversation with Nazarbayev the next day he thought otherwise.

“We are very sorry, President Cheney, but we have already promised 30% of our oil reserves to the Peoples Republic of China. Russia has an automatic 30% of it as well due to our ties with them. For the rest it is easier and more prosperous to ship that which we do not use ourselves to Europe. They are willing to pay what we ask and the pipeline cuts the distance. Should we ever find more reserves of oil we would of course be happy to create a relation with the United States as well.”

Cheney was inwardly gagging. They were being rejected by the Kazakhs. This whole trip had been for nothing.

Leaving had all the pomp and circumstance of his arriving, but somehow it was lost on him. One of the major hopes for America’s energy crisis had been yanked out from under him, and soon the whole world would know of his humiliation. He had to work to hide his sourness the rest of the visit.

On his way back to the U.S. the advisers had set up a number of meetings with the leaders they considered to most important to woo over in the mid-east. It was believed that Cheney held a decent amount of respect with the leaders of the Mideast because they saw him as being a smart, wise, practical leader. They also saw in him his dictatorial style, which they also associated with strength and stability.

Qatar, a small territory of the former United Arab Gulf States was the last on his agenda. Basically an oil-less land on the Arabian Sea, Qatar had made up for this defect by being the broker for a huge amount of transactions between all the Arabic lands, skillfully weaving relationships between even the most radical of them. At this they had been quite proficient, reaping enough profits from their managerial skills to open world class hotels and resorts and making themselves a place to go on the world map. While not as successful or as magnificent as Dubai, they had none the less done fantastically well for a small desert country.

Qatar being an important cog in the Middle East world, Cheney’s advisers had suggested he pay a visit to the tiny nation. They were seen as a line of communication with Iran and the US opposed Muslims in that part of the world. Their open minded policies even made them a possibility as an intermediary between Israel and all those nations surrounding them that wouldn’t mind seeing the Jewish state dissolved. But, compared to the powerhouse oil countries like Kuwait and Saudi Arabia they were still small fish. Cheney would only be spending one night there and leaving the next day.

All went well until the final dinner just hours before Cheney was to fly out. Shamakol, the Diplomat for Qatar, had had enough of Cheney. His tongue loosened from the irritation that had grown in him and from the wine that was officially illegal in Qatar, but only among the lower castes of the country. He was an expert at needling people he didn’t like and had already started a subtle acupuncture on Cheney.

“So now with the violence of 911 America has experienced what the much of our world experiences on a daily basis.”

Cheney’s eyes flashed. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, a harshness unconsciously slipping into his voice.

“I mean just what it sounds like. America has gotten back a little of its own medicine.” retorted Shamakol.

Before he could think, Cheney’s hand whipped out and struck the smaller man across the cheek. The diplomat’s hand went to his face in pain and he reeled unsteadily. His body guard in trained reaction came forward towards Cheney, his hand going towards a gun in his belt. The Secret Service man quickly stepped in front of the President going under his jacket for his as well giving the Qatari man a meaningful glare. The body guard halted, but didn’t back down, keeping his hand where it was. U.S. President or not, his job was to protect the representative of his country. They glared at each other, neither willing to budge.

Cheney recovered himself and realized his mistake. This would be in every paper in the world by the next morning. His voice still had an angry edge as he said, “Let’s go. We’ve got somewhere else to be.” He cast a still angry look at the diplomat. Shamakol caught this and spit out “Yes, this is how America acts!” As Cheney’s back continued up the hall he raised his voice “America has no respect for any other land! Or for anyone!”

Cheney did not react to the accusation, merely showed his stony face to the man. He knew already how wrong he was in striking the man, but inside himself thought “How true, how true.”

Cheney was awakened at one AM that night. It is probably the worst time to find him in a bad mood.

“What is it? He demanded in a surly tone, not being awake enough to remember where he was or that he was in a foreign land.

“Neal, Sir.” answered the Secret Service man. “We have a code Red, sir. We need to get you out of here. The word has gone around about your incident with the diplomat and the local people are getting uptight about it. We have the plane ready.”

The shock of the news pulled Cheney roughly out of his sleep. “I’ll be ready in five minutes.” he called back. He knew he had made a bad mistake with striking Shamakol. Now it had blossomed into major trouble. He had angered the local populace. And he was a white man in a dark country. And he was in a Muslim land with all the attendant sensitivities to watch out for.

Cheney got dressed and hurriedly packed his bag for a quick exit.

The Presidential limo was waiting when he exited the Palace. The whole energy of everyone working to get him out of the country was controlled panic. As he passed through the airport he could already see clusters of people along side the road appraising his vehicle and its content. As they whisked through the down town a few rocks hit the vehicle. Behind him he could hear the rattle of a machine gun. The President surmised to himself that whoever had been responsible for the rocks had now been answered back with bullets.

The limo pulled up directly next to the plane. As Cheney mounted the stairs to the plane he could hear a roar of voices far behind him. The skin crawled on the back of his neck and a clammy perspiration seeped out of his back. An ease came over him as the heavy door shut and he heard the airlock take hold. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to totally relax until the bird was high in the sky and away from this infernal land.

As the jet finally took off he could see a few crowds of people viewing his departure and shaking their fists. Suddenly the sky seemed so inviting to him. And so comforting.


– – – – – – – – – –

The complete book of 9/12/2001 is available from under that exact title for $10.00 plus shipping. Now available as an e-book on lulu as well.


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Iain Duncan Smith: ‘IDS Saves Disabled from Useless Suffering’ (2/2)

Iain Duncan Smith: ‘IDS Saves Disabled from Useless Suffering’ (2/2)

Don’t underestimate notable ‘quiet man’ Iain Duncan Smith.

I mean, he was critical of Blair’s achingly well-meaning intervention in Afghanistan, so the Tories are obviously nicer than New Labour!

The proof is in the pudding, after all. By their fruits you shall know them…

But enough of the trite cliches. I daresay this is not so much about flamboyant rhetoric.

As a compassionate conservative, I simply cannot just sit there, and see the dysgenic community in such evident distress.

And as I have so often heard from our sickly, effete, well-meaning but ineffective and sentimentally bleeding-heart leftie opponents and enemies: ‘The first principle: Do no harm.’

Now, it is self-evident to all normal, standard-issue, medically and economically valuable, non-disabled people, that anyone afflicted with a dysgenic handicap will inevitably suffer for every moment of their lives.

For after all, this has nothing whatsoever to do with ‘society,’ or so-called ‘economic inequality’ (contradiction in terms!), or ‘prejudice,’ or any of that other tedious and speculative lefty nonsense. No! It is purely because of their genetic destiny.

‘There is no alternative.’ Continue Reading


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Iain Duncan Smith: ‘IDS Saves Disabled from Useless Suffering’ (1/2)

Iain Duncan Smith: ‘IDS Saves Disabled from Useless Suffering’ (1/2)

Iain Duncan Smith has recently shed some Blair tears over disabled people in the UK.

However, believe it or not, most disabled people have been so arrogant and ungrateful as to repudiate his compassionate conservatism!

You know, for too long, the dysgenic community in the UK has been neglected by our government.

Let us never forget that in addition to perfectly normal, non-disabled people, there are also some Untermenschen among us, and this is simply too important to ignore.

No, it is absolutely unacceptable that we should merely leave the dysgenic community and its various individual integral synthetic components alone.

Such shameless neglect has caused a great deal of trouble in my nation.

No, let no-one ever be so cowardly and selfish as to assume that, as long as you obey the law, we will leave you alone. Continue Reading


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