DUFF & NONSENSE!

The unkindest cuts of all

Alas and alack (well, hurrah and what took me so long, actually) because the all-to0-aptly named Little Willy is no more.  I have removed him from my links because he has banned me from his site.  My crime?  Merely that I passed on to him the news contained in a post below that several emminent Japanese scientists had dismissed the IPCC report as the rubbish equivalent of astrology.  Over recent months I made as much allowance as possible for this weedy little grunt because, as he puts it himself, "I'm actually pretty ugly and my penis is smaller than the caucasian average", so you have to feel for him, er, metaphorically, of course.  I think it is sufficient to say that he is certainly an embarrassment to those many intelligent people who hold to a view that global warming is a possibility that should be taken seriously.  They would, I guess, view Little Willy's constant dribble of arrogant crudities with the disgust it deserves.

Also dismissed without a reference is Tim Lambert, an Aussie who confirms all my worst prejudices concerning both Leftie fanatics and our 'cousins' in the Antipodes.  I should make clear that whatever I think about Aussies I would normally love to have some of them around me in a fight, but not the feeble, 'Timid Timmy' Lambert, a man who shrinks at the sight of opposing argument and instantly reaches for his censor's blue pencil, the mark of intellectual cowards everywhere.  The same goes for Real Climate, who should be sued under the Trade Descriptions Act for a title like that!  I stopped reading them when I kept coming across global warming doubters whose perfectly unremarkable comments were promptly deleted from this supposedly 'scientific' site.

I left them all in my links for so long because I wanted my readers to access both sides of the debate but those three sites fall so far short of proper discourse that they really are not worth the time and effort of reading them.  However, I have left in Michael Tobis who is a confirmed 'warmist'.  He is sometimes a bit crotchety but he puts up with me so that says something about his broad shoulders and good nature!  Now that I have taken up the pruning shears I might take a long, hard look at some of the others on my lists.  Need I add that in the unlikely event of any of these bloggers visiting here to leave a comment, they would remain untouched provided they complied with the law and kept the obscenities to a minimum.

That old devil Deogolwulf duffs up the Darwinistas!

Is there a pleasure more exquisite than watching the dim, the dumb and the daft wriggling on a barb of their own making?  Well, I suppose the sight of 'One-eyed Jock' waving to the crowd and then walking into a lampost would produce a much-needed belly laugh but it would lack the delicious cruelty and wit that Deogolwulf deploys to such effect against those buffoons who, whilst despising church-goers, never lose an opportunity to kneel and worship at the shrine of 'St. Charles of Evolution', particularly in this year of his 200th anniversary.  In his wicked, satirical  fable (wicked, that is, in the sense of modern 'youf-speak'), Deogolwulf shows what an awkward, uncomfortable prophet Darwin is to follow in this 'po-mo' age of ludicrous sentimentality and self-delusion. 

Not content with breaking the china at the Darwinistas' dinner party, in his preceding post he aims a kick or three at the furniture in the hallowed sanctuary of Lincoln-worship by pointing up the emptiness of that famous piece of 'Abe-made' codswallop "government of the people, by the people, for the people".  I trust that no-one will be cruel enough to show it to 'Oprah' who might turn a whiter shade of pale black and thus ruin his image.

Anyway, no-one does it better than Deogolwulf - he should fence for Britain with the rapier at the next Olympics - so I urge you all to go and read him!

Nippon number one - in my book, anyway!

I always thought of the Nips as being so polite in their efforts to avoid giving offence lest a stranger lost face that it was practicaly impossible to tell what they were really thinking.  Oh well, wrong again.  Out of five Japanese researchers who have examined the latest IPCC global warming report, only one concurs with its findings.   The remainder think it's all hot air - and say so with exceedingly undiplomatic language!  For example:

Kanya Kusano is Program Director and Group Leader for the Earth Simulator at the Japan Agency for Marine-Earth Science & Technology (JAMSTEC). He focuses on the immaturity of simulation work cited in support of the theory of anthropogenic climate change. Using undiplomatic language, Kusano compares them to ancient astrology. After listing many faults, and the IPCC’s own conclusion that natural causes of climate are poorly understood, Kusano concludes:

“[The IPCC's] conclusion that from now on atmospheric temperatures are likely to show a continuous, monotonous increase, should be perceived as an unprovable hypothesis,” he writes.

"Astrology", yes, that about sums it up, but another Jap scientist adds:

Shunichi Akasofu, head of the International Arctic Research Center in Alaska, has expressed criticism of the theory before. Akasofu uses historical data to challenge the claim that very recent temperatures represent an anomaly:

“We should be cautious, IPCC’s theory that atmospheric temperature has risen since 2000 in correspondence with CO2 is nothing but a hypothesis."

Akasofu calls the post-2000 warming trend hypothetical. His harshest words are reserved for advocates who give conjecture the authority of fact.

“Before anyone noticed, this hypothesis has been substituted for truth… The opinion that great disaster will really happen must be broken.”

Couldn't have put it better myself.  Let's hear it for the Land of the Rising Sun and if they want to 'off' a few whales, well, on behalf of all the little fishies eaten by those great hulking brutes, I say let 'em carry on!

Hat-tip to Anthony Watts.

"The unspeakable in pursuit of the uneatable"

Am I alone (probably, I usually am) in experiencing acute nausea at the sight and sound of the pigs who are normally to be found with their snouts in the Parliamentary (or Congressional) trough, snorting and snuffling in pseudo rage at the swine who filled their boots at our expense from the Banks for which they were responsible?  In particular, seeing and hearing the biggest 'trotter' of the lot in the 'animal farm' over the last 10 years, 'Napoleon' Brown, heaping all the blame on everyone else in the world except the man who was in charge of all our national finances and who designed the very system of control and oversight which failed so dismally when it was needed.  A good part of the reason it failed, of course, was because 'Napoleon' Brown was creaming huge tax revenues from the spivs who were running our Banks and no politician, except the very rare example of one who is possessed of both intelligence and rectitude, is going to kill the goose laying golden eggs . . . oh, and talking of gold . . . whatever happened to ours?

I try very hard never to talk or write on behalf of other people, and never on behalf of that mysterious entity, 'The People'.  I only speak for myself.  However, I am sure that my disgust and fury at our democratically elected politicians is shared by others.  I can't help worrying where this revulsion will lead.  As I have warned before, Brown, in a policy which almost amounts to treachery, is deliberately laying waste to the British economy in the knowledge that it will be the Tories who will be left with the wreckage.  If they fail, and the odds are against them given their own weaknesses of both intellectual capacity and political courage and integrity, then to what, or to whom, will 'The People' turn in their despair?  In the depression of the 1930s, British society was hugely different from today's.  Quite literally, that particular past is now a foreign country.  Today's disparate, and in some cases mutally antogonistic, society is going to find it exceedingly difficult to hold fast to the 'pillars of society' that have bound them together in the past.

As always, in times of danger, I look over the Atlantic to see what succour, if any, is to be had from the United States.  Not much, in my opinion!  Obama's so-called 'stimulus' is the equivalent of injecting formaldehyde into the US economy.  Already the details are coming out showing the way in which the Democrat piggies are filling their personal pork-barrels.  I wonder how long it will be before the American public realise that they have been conned, and what effect that will have?  I still have hope for America, but my faith is badly shaken, and I fear that those who have predicted the end of the American century may well be right.  In which case, one must pray for equally debilitating prospects amongst our enemies.  Unfortunately, their numbers have increased enormously because now, even a third-world nation like Iran has the potential to do us immeasurable harm.

A great American leader once said, "We have nothing to fear but fear itself".  Well, I don't know about you, but I'm scared stiff!

Additional: I have just heard 'Napoleon' Brown thundering on to the effect that Bankers' pensions should be cut.  How much will his pension be worth when he goes next year?

Up and at 'em in Blogdom!

I have returned! Refreshed and literally renewed with my bright, shiny, new 'computer-thingie' (sorry for using such advanced 'technospeak', do try and keep up) and my very elegant monitor whose screen is so wide I look like a spectator at Wimbledon as I read from one side to the other and back again. Actually, I don't like to boast about this but the fact is that I now have two monitors!  'SoD' assures me that I will find this useful as I explore the, to me, whole new world of 'PowerPoint' which I intend to use in conjunction with my talks - see top left corner.  Apparently I will be able to read the tutorial on one screen and actually do the work on the other.  Brilliant concept but, alas, I foresee huge losses of temper, major hissy-fits, foul language and the exit of one screen or the other through the window followed by a determined assault on the Glenmorangie.  Nevertheless, I must perservere because there might be exciting possibilities opening up for me and my tedious brilliant, insightful talks and this 'Power Point' stuff is quite amazing from the little I've discovered so far.  Anyway, it's good to be back and, provided this bright, shiny gadget doesn't breakdown tomorrow (yes, I'm still a fundamentalist cynic) I hope to resume 'Boring for Britain' in the style which you have come to admire/to endure/to avoid (delete as necessary) over the last four years!  Yes, it was the fourth birthday of Duff & Nonsense on the 17th of February.  The drinks were on me.  What do you mean you didn't know?  Tough, you should pay more attention!

Down and out in Blogdom

I feel like one of those dossers under Waterloo Bridge, sitting on a rug with a skinny dog and a tin cup hoping for charity from passers-by.  Well, I exaggerate, as usual, but not having my own computer leaves me feeling bereft.  The little 'Memsahib' graciously permits me to use her lap-top but I hate it.  Such a titchy, teeny, tiddly thing made for midgets!  Upstairs with my desk-top and my 21" monitor I could sit back in my swivel chair and admire my elegant prose in comfort and style surrounded by my familiar things, but here I have to lean over the desk with my nose almost touching the screen to see what I, or others, have written.  Still, I am assured that my bespoke computer will be ready next week.  I am fortunate, given that SoD lives miles away, in having the services of young man locally who runs his own computer company and holds my hand when things go wrong.  He is assembling my new machine with all the widgets and gadgets installed to suit my particular needs, for example, I waste spend an enormous amount of time playing strategy war games and crashing 'planes regularly with my Flight Simulator.  That pilot they made such a fuss over because he brought his 'plane down in the Hudson has nothing on me, I have landed in the Thames, having missed Heathrow by several nautical miles, more times than I can remember.  Anyway, next week I hope to be back in business with some regular bile postings for you to consider, starting with a hundred different tortures to be inflicted on 'ur wee Gordie Broon'!

See you all next week - I hope!

"I was moved withal"

Whilst normally of a benign and affable nature I must confess to possessing a cruel streak within me that rises instantly in the presence of anything resembling mawkish sentimentality.  This morning I came across the blog of an Irishman who is father to a Downs Syndrome child, and I must admit that my in-built warning system went to red alert because the first thing I saw was a poem! Virtually all modern free-form poetry is crap, in my opinion, and if it is allied to excessive sentimentality the only response is to pelt it with insults and send it off to Pseud's Corner in Private Eye. Thus, it was with a heart and eye primed with cruelty that I read this poem: Thanksgiving Again by Nick McGivney.

I knew something was 'wrong', or perhaps I mean that I knew something was right, because I read the poem to the very end which I rarely do when reading free-form poetry.  I am not going to analyse it; as I have said before, a poem, or picture, or image, or a piece of music, either strikes that elusive part of the heart or mind that produces an emotional response, or it fails.  Either way you can spend the rest of your life rationalising the whys and the wherefors but the fact is that it either hits the spot or it misses.  In this case the 'poem' struck me dead centre.  My response was to leave a comment on McGivney's blog in which I used a quotation from Shakespeare which, in the context of the play in which it occurs, is meant to be deeply ambiguous and ambivalent.  I, however, used it with only the simple surface meaning:  "I was moved withal".  Do yourselves a favour and go and read it!

And lo, he begatteth a crock of poo!

I am obliged, yet again, to Alan Sullivan, which is becoming embarrassing because he's a sick man who appears to have twice the energy I possess.  Anyway, he pointed me in the direction of another blogger who, when I have my brand new, all-singing, all-dancing computer next week, will definitely go onto my blog roll.  Anyway, thanks to both of them and here you have a witty summary of policy-making at the highest level:

Geithner's Plan Template found...
In the beginning was 'the plan'.
And then came the assumptions.
And the assumptions were without form and the plan was without substance
And darkness was upon the face of the company and they spoke among themselves saying, "The plan is a crock of s**t and it stinketh."

And the company went to their supervisors and sayeth, "It is pail of dung and none can abide the odor."

And the supervisors went unto their department heads and sayeth unto them, "It is a container of excrement with an odor that few can tolerate."

And the department heads went unto the vice presidents and sayeth, "it is a vessel of fertilizer and its strength offends many."

And the vice-presidents spoke among themselves saying, "It contains that which aids plant growth and it is indeed strong."

And the vice-presidents went unto the president and sayeth unto him, "It is a powerful promoter of growth."

And the president went unto the chairpersons of the board and sayeth, "This plan will greatly stimulate the growth and efficiency of this company."

And the chairpersons looked upon the plan saying, "This is a good plan."

And the plan became policy. And this is how s**t happens.

Not so much "accidental art", more like an accidental old fart!

'Elf 'n' Safety Warning! 

This picture as been passed as 'XXX'- rated by the British Board of Silly Pictures.  Anyone of the female pursasion should not view this whilst unaccompanied.  This site accepts no responsibility for acts of unbridled lust resulting from viewing this picture which is only produced at the behest of 'Sister Wolf' and her licentious desire to indulge in a Bloggers' Pyjama Party.  There is no extra charge for gazing longingly at, er, the long Johns!

An overnighter

I shall be away from Wednesday morning until Thursday evening.

Golliwog out, out, out . . . Jew-hatred in, in, in!

This is my fourth attempt to post on this subject but each time Typepad suffered with indigestion and refused to swallow half of it.  Anyway, the advantage is yours because I am going to keep this brief and to the point.  Melanie Phillips directs our attention to The Royal Court Theatre and a production of a 'play ' by Ms. Caryl Churchill.  When I die, this lady will be the world's worst playwright, and I know whereof I speak having suffered almost terminal boredom sitting through two of her dreary, second-rate efforts.  According to Ms. Phillips this latest 'play', or perhaps diatribe would be a better description, is a 10-minute anti-Semitic rant of the sort likely to bring a smile to the thin lips of the late Herr Goebbels.  I only wish to say that all those outraged liberals who threw such hissy fits when Carol Thatcher used the word 'golliwog' but who now rush to the theatre to cheer and clap this blatant example of Jew-hatred are oozing hypocrisy from every pore in their stupid bodies.

"How now! a rat?"

I can, just about, put up with the ignorant yobs who 'decorate' our High Streets every Friday and Saturday night.  I do so mainly by keeping well away and avoiding the fighting, the spewing and the excreting.  I don't even blame them.  They are Calibans who know no better, and if anyone is at fault it is the utterly feeble guardians of discipline and authority in our society who have simply surrendered. 

However, there is an even more degenerate sub-class of yobbery which is more difficult to avoid entirely because the members of it now infest the internet.  I refer to those bloggers who are semi-educated to the extent that they have managed an A-level in joined-up writing, and possibly a 'degree' in Origami from what was, and should have remained, a Polytechnic.  Puffed with enough information (I demur at the word 'knowledge') to take them one step up the evolutionary ladder from their pig-ignorant fellows who stagger out of the pubs on Saturday nights, these know-nothing, know-it-alls turn to 'Blogdom' to trumpet what passes for thinking in their silly, swollen heads.

Well, there have always been bores and buffoons but at least in the past the better educated of them had the ability to write good English.  Our latter-day 'green ink' bloggers find it impossible to express any thought without a stream of foul language and obscenities to camouflage the paucity of what they are actually trying to express.  Reduce the superfluity, and what was an enormously long and terminally tedious essay would become one, possibly half-decent, paragraph.  For an example of what I mean I offer, somewhat reluctantly, this link ("On The Legitimisation Of The Dickhead" - see what I mean?) to 'Ratty's' site.  I am reluctant on two counts.  I try to avoid linking to bloggers who ban me, as he has done; and the post in question is a perfect example of what I would call the 'stream of unconscious', a sort of sub-Joycean spew of what he fondly believes to be witty, sharp commentary, in which misguided belief he is aided and abetted by the chorus of hyenas who follow him.

It goes without saying, but I will remind you anyway, that 'Ratty' shares the habit of his ilk by dishing out insults by the ton but shrivels like a willy in a cold shower if anyone dares to give him back some of what he dishes out.  So, a coward as well as a bully.

Service announcement, well, er, non-service, actually!

Alas, my old computer has followed the example of Python's famous parrot - 'it is no more, it has ceased to be, it is now an ex-computer'!  Consequently I am using the little 'Memsahib's' lap-top until 'SoD' finds me a new one.  This involves an enormous amount of grovelling plus payment in kind and not the exciting sort, either!  So, if I am a little slow in responding that is the reason.

However, I can provide you all with a little titillation.  Watch out on this blog on the very auspicious date of Friday 13th!   Last month 'Sister Wolf' published a photo of herself in a rather startling set of 'jimjams'. She then went further (the story of her life, I suspect) and suggested a blogging pyjama party in which as many bloggers as possible publish 'piccies' of themselves in their nighties.  She included a special request to see me in my much-admired long Johns - well, much-admired by me, that is.  I am happy to oblige a lady of such taste and discernment but I believe it is only proper to issue a warning to all you girlies, and girly-men, that the sight of me in that state of deshabille is likely to cause severe palpitations - strong men have wept at the sight! You have been warned.

Will 'Oprah' admit his mistakes the way 'Dubya' did?

I am obliged to The Coffee House for pointing me in the direction of this piece by Thomas E. Ricks in The Washington Post.   Usually we have to put up with the vagaries of the MSM but just occasionally one is lucky to have a glimpse of history, rather than reportage, before it is written.  Hitherto, I had accepted the MSM version that Gen. Petraeus was the architect of the ‘surge’ in Iraq which rescued what was looking like an inevitable and ignominious defeat for the American army.  Not so, according to Ricks who gives the palm to Gen. Odierno, a truly remarkable soldier in that he served one tour commanding a Division and applying the fierce orthodoxy of the American army, but came back later as second-in-command of the entire country – and changed his mind!  He it was who fought a tooth and nail battle with his immediate commander plus the Chiefs of Staff and virtually all Washington opinion by insisting on the ‘surge’.  He was aided in this dangerous exercise – dangerous, that is, to his personal career – by an influential but retired senior general with high connections in Washington.  From Ricks’s essay it is clear that with defeat imminent and beyond denial, Bush swallowed hard, and despite the received opinion, decided to back the small coterie of officers pushing for a large re-enforcement.  President Bush made his mistakes but the mark of a good leader is to recognise them and to take the appropriate action – think: Pitt the Younger, and Frederick the Great in his early days. 

Last week’s elections in Iraq passed peacefully and appear, within the context of the Arab world, to  have been fairly conducted. This achievement is mainly due to Gen. Ordieno but also President Bush deserves great credit for doing what all politicians hate doing, admitting to error!  The serious question now is whether his successor will have the same moral courage.  Already the mistakes are building up, not least his insistence that troops are withdrawn from Iraq before Ordieno’s timetable is complete.  The so-called ‘stimulation package’ will be a disaster but it will take years to be recognised as such.  However, more immediately, his ‘softly-softly’ approaches to the WEGs, the Iranian WOGs, and the Mafiosi running Russia, cover the gamut from utter naivetee to deadly danger.  How quickly will he learn that playing nicely-nicely with these people will get him nowhere?  The ‘Euros’ will praise him to his face and sneer at him behind his back without lifting a finger to help in any way that is expensive to them, the Russian gangsters will behave, surprise surprise, like gangsters, and the WOGs in Tehran will play him for a sucker until they have their bomb – and as they demonstrated last week, they now have a missile capable of delivering as far as southern Europe.

Unless he is another Jimmy Carter he will soon begin to realise the error of his ways.  The two great unanswered questions are, how much danger will we be in as he tracks his personal learning curve, and when he realises, will he have the courage to change his mind and his policies?

Accidental 'Art'

 

Just over three years ago Son of Duff (SoD) attended the re-enactment of the Battle of Austerlitz which celebrated its 200th anniversary.  Whilst driving through a misty snowscape which exactly mirrored conditions in December 1805, he suddenly came across this French cavalry patrol.  Skidding to a halt, he leapt from the car and snapped away with his camera.  The picture above, just one of the dozens he took during the entire weekend, justifies my title for this post - Accidental 'Art'.  As I have said before, with all due respect to my e-pal, 'The Ill Man', who is definitely something of a photographer because he manages to make even Glasgow look ravishing, I cannot in all good faith describe photography as art - hence the inverted commas round the word 'art' in my title.

That said, however, it cannot be denied that the practice does produce from time to time electrifying images that can stay with you for a lifetime.  I think 'SoD's' image above is one of them.  The 'composition' is superb with the figures just breaking the horizon line, and the single rifle jutting upwards providing 'real' atmosphere.  There is just enough detail in the uniforms and the saddlery which together with the little splashes of colour make it a hugely evocative picture.  In a camera flash you are instantly transported back 200 years.

After much nagging 'SoD' provided me with a print for Christmas, but, he went one better and had it reproduced on canvas, which apparently is a fairly easy process these days.  So now, it hangs on my sitting room wall and is much admired by one and all.  I hope all of you enjoy it as much as I do.

The cruellest prison is liberation

It is not often that I find in my flinty heart a droplet of sympathy for others but I must confess to a long-held sorrow for the plight of young people these days, particularly young women.  Rather like the mugs customers from my second-hand car-dealing days, they have been sold a rotten bill of goods and thoroughly shafted.  The 'great' liberal revolution, so beloved of bigwig Whigs, like Oliver Kamm, has been an utter disaster, as is clear to anyone with half an honest eye who cares to compare and contrast reality against ideology.  Probably it is children who have suffered, and still are suffering, the maximum amount of 'collateral damage' but young women who were brainwashed with feminist propaganda have also been left as 'walking wounded' as they approach middle-age and realise that the whole agenda was, and still is, a crock!

Zoe Lewis, a playwright, hitherto unknown to me, writes with bitterness at her young life wasted in pursuit of a chimera.  The daughter of a self-styled hippy, she was brought up on a steady diet of Germane Greer and Erica Jong with 'Madonna' as a role model:

I was led to believe that women could “have it all” and, more to the point, that we wanted it all. To that end I have spent 20 years ruthlessly pursuing my dreams - to be a successful playwright. I have sacrificed all my womanly duties and laid it all at the altar of a career. And was it worth it? The answer has to be a resounding no.

Now, nearly 37 years of age, she yearns for the lost and natural opportunities of married life and children.  Her own self-confessed state of clinical depression over the last 20 years was simply nature's way of telling her she was going in the wrong direction:

I argue that women's libbers of the Sixties and Seventies put careerism at the forefront, trampling the traditional role of women underneath their Doc Martens. I wish a more balanced view of womanhood had been available to me. I wish that being a housewife or a mother wasn't such a toxic idea to middle-class liberals of yesteryear. [...]

This month the General Household Survey found that the number of unmarried women under 50 has more than doubled over the past 30 years. And by the age of 30, one in five of these “freemales”, who have chosen independence over husband and family, has gone through a broken cohabitation.

If you have daughters or grand-daughters, let them read Ms. Lewis's wry tale of a mis-spent life, not 'mis-spent in the normal meaning of that word, simply a life of missed fulfilment.  However, whilst I am not familiar with her work, my guess is that the later plays of Ms. Lewis are probably very much better than the earlier ones.

Free The Golliwog One!

Carol Thatcher, daughter of the former prime minister, has been sacked from the BBC for remarking in private that a black tennis player looked like a "golliwog".

Frankly this particular golliwog looks positively handsome and certainly stylish compared to some of the freaks and frights to be seen on the pro-tennis circuit.

However, the fact of the similarity between any of the gentlemen above but particularly Mr. Gael Monfils, on the left, and the golliwog cannot be denied by anyone with half an eye.  But of course, it is not the obvious similarity that is the cause of Ms. Thatcher's dismissal but the fact that she has transgressed the unwritten laws of the 'Language Politzei'.  They, in their jack-booted arrogance, have decreed what they think certain words and phrases really mean irrespective of their true meaning and the context in which they are uttered or written.  These language commissars are as clever as they are malignant because to maintain their power they ensure that their definitions change over time so that no one outside the chosen few can be certain of what is or is not permitted.  Thus, for example, 'black', 'negro', 'nigger', 'coloured' and other variations at different times either become acceptable or not according to the un-holy writ of the 'Language Politzei'.  To them there is only one sin and that sin is 'racism'.  Of course, that is not a comprehensive disapproval with no exceptions, oh dear me, no; that would require an act of steadfast principle of which they are utterly incapable.  There is their 'racism', which is any supposed insult to individuals or groups with whom they are sympathetic; and then there is what they call  'legitimate criticism' aimed at individuals or groups whom they detest for political or social reasons  and which is usually expressed by a stream of filthy invective excreted under the protection of freedom of speech legislation - take your pick from, or add to: Jews/Christians/middle-classes/white American Republicans/anyone associated with Baroness Thatcher/bosses/bankers, etc., etc.

Well, this site is declaring unilateral independence from the 'Language Politzei'.  I am happy to be reviled by the Commissars who accuse me of 'racism' and I defend their right to do it, but I intend to claim my half of the deal, too.  Therefore, I shall continue to call a spade a spade, and even describe a negro as being as black as the ace of spades, if and when I feel like it, or believe that it is appropriate.  I shall continue to refer to Asian/Arab political leaders as WOGs in the same way, and the same spirit, as I describe their Eurpean counterparts as WEGs. The Chinese will remain forever 'Chinks' and the Japs, 'Nips'.  'Spics', 'Dagos', 'Frogs' and 'Huns' must take their chances, here at Duff & Nonsense.  Sometimes these terms will be friendly and jocular, sometimes decidely unfriendly and insulting; however, you, the reader, will never be in any doubt as to which is which.  To make this perfectly clear, I intend to retain the right to be fearfully rude about anyone who incurs my ire.  Further, I intend to enjoy thoroughly disliking other individuals or groups, as I see fit.  It should go without saying, but these days I had better be clear about it, that my language will never knowingly be false, or, an incitement to violence against law-abiding people living in this country.  In effect, I am reclaiming the right to be rude.

In the meantime, I demand the return of Carol Thatcher and the privatisation of the 'Bullying Broadcasting Corporation'!

(Pictures courtesy of The Daily Mail)

"Time for change", er, but not just yet!

Thank God for that!  Just for a moment or two I almost began to believe all that 'Saint Barack of Obama' guff to the effect that he was going to banish all the naughty things in the whole, wide world and change them all to nice things - "Just like that", as the late Tommy Cooper might have said, or, "Yes we can", as St. Obama never stopped saying.  Apart from the soppy guff I can't say I've noticed any difference so far, indeed, just the opposite, all I see is even more of the same old, same old.  President 'Whiter-than-White-if-only-he-wasn't-so-black' has just approved a couple of two-bit, tax shysters, sorry, two highly respected, senior senators to serve in his cabinet - highly respected, that is, by other crooked, trough-swilling politicians including, one must assume, 'St. Barack', himself.  That one of them is up for the job of Treasury Secretary is an irony of such utter deliciousness that even a sweet-tooth like me can hardly bare to suck on it.  The other dodgy tax dodger, who earned some hefty fees from various health industry companies, is up for the job of, yes, you guessed it, Health Secretary!  Both these men are rich and powerful and able to hire the best accountants in the land and yet they dodged the taxes they imposed on their fellow Americans and when caught out they receive the blessing of the 'Blessed Barack', himself.   Had 'Joe the plumber' made a "serious mistake" on his tax returns, I can't see 'St. Barack' giving him absolution and a top job.

I trust that this post does not smack of bitterness because, on the contrary, I am delighted.  It is clear now that Obama is a devout and practicing member of the Brotherhood of Bent Politicians which I always suspected.  I just hope that he is clever with it because he is going to need all that slipperiness when he has to deal face to face with all those crafty WOGs and WEGs.

Incidentally, I may soon need a suitable acronym for Mexicans.  I was somewhat startled to see that the current head of the CIA has placed Mexico in the top ten of problems facing his successor, apparently because of the increase in violence "south of the border, down Mexico way".  At this point I fall to my knees and pray to the 'Intelligent Designer' to ensure that a really nasty bunch of desperadoes take over in Mexico and start lobbing a few rockets into Texas.  Of course, I don't really mean that (I really do not) but, oh, the exquisite undiluted pleasure of reading the blog of my ineffably soppy and Left-wing, e-pal, 'Fallen Monk', and all his commenters who inveighed so passionately against those bully-boy Jews beating up innocent Hamas supporters.  "'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished".

Additional: Thanks to Guido for spotting in the LA Times that the 'Blessed Barack', whilst reducing his adoring audience to gushes of praise for his humanity when he did away with 'Gitmo' and so-called 'torture', has quietly permitted rendition to continue.  This is a classic case of not wishing to dirty one's hands with the messy stuff of real war whilst passing the job on to various ruffians to do on your behalf.

Under executive orders issued by Obama recently, the CIA still has authority to carry out what are known as renditions, secret abductions and transfers of prisoners to countries that cooperate with the United States.

Current and former U.S. intelligence officials said that the rendition program might be poised to play an expanded role going forward because it was the main remaining mechanism -- aside from Predator missile strikes -- for taking suspected terrorists off the street.

"Obviously you need to preserve some tools -- you still have to go after the bad guys," said an Obama administration official, speaking on condition of anonymity when discussing the legal reasoning.

Mind you, as the lady in the Max Mosely case said, you can't beat the real thing:

 "The reason we did interrogations [ourselves] is because renditions for the most part weren't very productive," said a former senior CIA official who spoke on condition of anonymity because of the sensitive nature of the subject.

The most valuable intelligence on Al Qaeda came from prisoners who were in CIA custody and questioned by agency experts, the official said. Once prisoners were turned over to Egypt, Jordan or elsewhere, the agency had limited influence over how much intelligence was shared, how prisoners were treated and whether they were later released.

"In some ways, [rendition] is the worst option," the former official said. "If they are in U.S. hands, you have a lot of checks and balances, medics and lawyers. Once you turn them over to another service, you lose control."

Still, the boy in the White House is learning, so all is not lost.