1) Buy McDonald’s. No, not company shares but actual burgers. House prices drop, shares hit record lows, banks and companies go bust. So, spend the last of your real money on a few megaburgers with extra fries. These fat deposits will be real and lasting - and may be of some actual use, if our societies’ break-down will be complete and all the shops will have emptied.
2) Buy Obama doll factories. Things are bad; things are really bad, so people need hope. While Obama seems to have cornered that market, there’s no reason why you should not cash in on this phenomenon as well. Count on it: In the coming few months, those dolls will go faster than Michael Phelps, thrown in a swimming pool with a great white.
3) Buy needles. Obama is bound to let down all of those who have pinned their hopes on him. He’s a politician, remember: That’s what they do. So, investing in needles now will pay out in a few months’ time, when people will want to convert those Obama ‘hope’ dolls into Obama Voodoo dolls.
4) Buy polar bears. There’s not much you can do with grown-up polar bears but zoos will do bloody murder to get their hands on one of those cute ‘Knuts‘. One baby bear will at least treble the amount of yearly visitors to any zoo. Thanks to the melting of the ice-caps, polar bears will fast become a very endangered species, so their value will soon equal that of gold, pound by massive pound.
5) Buy the production rights to ‘The Satanic Verses: The Musical’. That’s one piece of entertainment that will need no marketing at all to reach a world wide audience of rabid fanatics. Success will be guaranteed, when news about its premiere will spread around the world like wildfire (or, most probably, like burning embassies…)
6) Buy cigarettes. Sure, they are expensive now but it can’t be long till most of the world’s governments will have outlawed smoking completely. Then, see what those cancer sticks will do on the black market. So, buy now; make a killing later!
It has been said that Charles Dickens invented the whole ‘White Christmas’ idea in his book, ‘A Christmas Carol’.
It’s also been suggested that global warming will become the ultimate Scrooge, by destroying any hope of a white Christmas in many parts of the world.
Me, well, I think Charles Dickens’ little novel won’t be around for much longer. I can already see the right wing nutters gathering their pitchforks and torches, all raring to have a go at the book, because ghosts are magic (AND MAGIC IS EVIL!!!) and have nothing to do with the Baby Jesus anyway. While, on the P.C. side, all the idiots are girding their BlackBerries and sharpening their lattes, ready to burn the Carol at the stake, for mentioning the dreaded, non-inclusive ‘C-word’.
I’ve got better news from the global warming front. While it might be true that this manmade, or sunspot-sired phenomenon is as real and deadly as Marley’s doornail, I can now assure you that it won’t put an end to white Christmases.
Not in Austria, it won’t - and no, that has nothing to do with the country’s high altitude or the lines that form in front of the ski lifts. Though, come to think of it, there are, most definitely, lines and highs involved…
Anyway, Europe already had the butter mountain and wine & milk lakes. So, cocaine mountains shouldn’t come as that much of a surprise:
“Police say that cocaine and Ecstasy consumption at the bars of après-ski establishments has risen steeply at premium winter resorts, with recorded drug offences rising 60 per cent in some areas popular with British tourists. Police say that even ski instructors and bartenders are turning into part-time drug-dealers at the peak of the season.”
It would be funny, if it wasn’t so fucking horrible and sad but when people, be they politicians, journalists or armchair experts, talk about the war in Iraq, they, almost invariably, do so in the manner of small boys, discussing the movement of their tin soldiers.
So, there’s talk of surges, of strikes and counter-strikes; the relative merits of the various professional and semi-professional armed troops, the quality of their training, the state of their equipment - and when it comes to questions of morality, there’s almost always that comfortable ritual of arguing who will get to wear the white hat and who will don the black.
Simple stuff, boys’ stuff - and, as happens in the majority of games, people are mostly obsessed by the question of which side is winning.
Still, let’s forget about that side of things, just for a little while. Let’s pretend we are all grown-ups, instead of trying to push around those battle-worn tin soldiers inside one of the biggest sandboxes in the world. Let’s take a look at those who are definitely losing this very bloody war. Remember reading about the rise of honour killings in and around Basra? Here’s a reminder:
“Authorities in the southern Iraqi city of Basra have admitted they are powerless to prevent ‘honour killings’ in the city following a 70 per cent increase in religious murders during the past year. There has been no improvement in conviction rates for these killings. So far this year, 81 women in the city have been murdered for allegedly bringing shame on their families. Only five people have been convicted.”
Basra: That’s where the Brits were boasting that they were doing ever so much better than the Americans did, when it came to winning hearts and minds.
Such a pity, really, that those hearts and minds belonged to Islamist militia types who soon decided that it was much more fun to kill women than to smile politely at a gaggle of silly Brits, who were simply playing a game of soldiers in the sand.
Now, thanks to an article in the Washington Post, we can read that those Kurds, in the North of Iraq, are as efficient a bunch of bloody oppressors as their former scourge, Saddam, ever was. The only difference being that the designated victims of the Kurds are their own wives and daughters.
All in the name of Allah, of course. For no war can ever be truly complete without the alleged support and proud blessings of the God of your choice. In that, Judaism, Christianity and Islam are one. All suffer from Abraham’s curse - or Abraham’s delusion: That it is God Who wants us to slaughter our sons.
Such a pity that, in the real world, there’s never that angel that comes down to stay our hands.
Anyway, back to Iraq - and back to the ones who are really losing that war: The women of Iraq. Read and weep:
“Sheelan Anwar Omer, a shy 7-year-old Kurdish girl, bounded into her neighbor’s house with an ear-to-ear smile, looking for the party her mother had promised. There was no celebration. Instead, a local woman quickly locked a rusty red door behind Sheelan, who looked bewildered when her mother ordered the girl to remove her underpants. Sheelan began to whimper, then tremble, while the women pushed apart her legs and a midwife raised a stainless-steel razor blade in the air. “I do this in the name of Allah!” she intoned.”
First, one appetising thought: In times of wars and famine, suicide figures are low.
Now, to the real meat of today’s sermon.
People in the West don’t have enough real problems. I know that this may sound slightly absurd, with the economic crisis now hitting many of us at home, at work and in our collective wallet (or those of us who still have work, a home and/or any money to spend, of course) but I would still suggest that we have it way too good.
What’s more, you can, more or less, prove that people don’t have enough serious stuff to worry about by looking at, what I would call, the pettiness factor - which expresses itself through the amount of stupid shit that people do obsess about and the intensity with which they do so.
Here are three examples of this pettiness factor in pathetic progress:
1) Christmas warriors
While the loony right complains that there is some vast conspiracy against Christianity, of which the so-called war on Christmas is but one symptom, the imbecilic PC fringe obsesses over the lack of inclusiveness of Christmas trees, certain words in Christmas carols, et cetera. All of which has more normal people ask themselves why these idiots won’t get a life. (Although it could almost be seen as a wonderful miracle that these two, so very different groups can be brought together by the Christmas spirit: Joined at the hips of pettiness, that is.)
2) Health Nazis
Now, I’m not going to rehash all the arguments against anti-smoking laws, even though the scientific basis of these laws is extremely dubious. So, let’s not go there but simply accept that the anti-smoking lobby has won that war. Still, for quite a number of people, this is simply not good enough. The sight of someone who still hangs on to his or her habit is so offensive to this, rather largish minority that they want to ban any smoking in public, even in the open air. Hence, there are more and more smoke free beaches, smoke free open railway platforms, et cetera. This, obviously, has nothing at all to do with issues of health. (Anyone who has just spent a few hours in heavy traffic to get to a beach and then complains about someone lighting up ten meters from which he or she is sitting, for reasons of health, is, I’m afraid to say, a moron.) In other words, it’s just that old pettiness factor in action again: People not having enough real things to worry about, obsessing over nonsensical stuff.
3) Fringe martyrs
There are many wrongs & ills in this world of ours. Which is an enormous blessing to people in the West, because that gives them all sorts of things to obsess about which are not totally self-indulgent. There are some great causes and truly amazing organisations, doing splendid work and more power to them, of course. Problem is, you will always have enough idiots who will latch on to any cause and who will immediately lose all sense of perspective and proportion. In worst case scenarios, this has lead to middle class European kids, joining terrorist gangs like Germany’s RAF or Italy’s Red Brigade. Most of the time, of course, it simply leads to relatively harmless, if very lopsided forms of lunacy. For instance, there was one case, in which some animal rights organisation got very upset and angry about the fact that, at the Olympic Games, a few Chinese shops sold earrings with a live goldfish in them. Which was, according to these people, reason enough to boycott the Games. Now, I’m sure these goldfish inside their very small bubbles were not really happy campers and I, for one, would not have dreamt of buying such an item but this save-the-goldfish protest came at the same time that Russia invaded a neighbouring country and while farmers in China were losing their harvest and their whole livelihood, because the Games used up the water these farmers needed for their crops. All of this also against a background of violence in Tibet, the very heavy-handed suppression of various religions and God knows how many rubber-stamped life sentences for political dissidents. In other words, there are times that obsessing about a few goldfish would seem to be more than a little bit self-indulgent, single- and even simple-minded.
Anyway, these are just three examples of people obsessing about small stuff, because they don’t seem to have anything more worthwhile to focus on but it would be easy enough to make a list of ten or a hundred examples of the pettiness syndrome in action. This kind of self-indulgent behaviour is, obviously, one of those luxury problems that we, in the West, have developed to fill what have become, for many, spiritually empty lives.
In the old days, it used to be that seven fat years were followed by seven lean years, which would then morph into seven grossly obese years, which, inevitably, would lead to seven more anorexic ones.
Obviously, that was before the Internet, world trade and the whole concept of the happy, if incestuous soap opera, titled ‘The Global Village.’ So, these days, things move much, much faster than when the Old Testament was dreamed up by some disgruntled Jewish expats in Babylon.
Good times and bad times follow each other up faster than a TV weather person can read, ‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times’ from the Autocue. Which also means, for political parties, that the length of those so-called wilderness years have shed their Mayflower way of ponderous progress in favour of a more mayfly type of time span.
In other words: Good news for the Republican party, which has every reason to hope that its come-back may be faster and even more miraculous than that of old Lazarus.
Of course, it pays to prepare for success, so there are a few things the Republicans could do to speed up the process a bit more. In fact, there are these following three lines of attack that would seem to be obvious and potentially rewarding:
1) Confuse a Cat
Named after an old Monty Python sketch, this could become the underlying strategy of the new Republican leadership. The Republicans (like the English Conservatives) have long been seen as the ‘nasty party’. So, it’s time for one of those big make-over shows. Obama invites a pro life pastor to his inauguration party? Well, that same day, Mike Huckabee should present the world with his own series of cross-dressing Giuliani style party pictures, while the 9/11 mayor goes on the Daily Show, to sing ‘Give peace a chance.’ From fiscal faithfulness to feminism, from illegal immigration to international interventionism, the Alice in Wonderland principles of confuse-a-catism should have their opponents reeling and the voting public more than a bit confused.
2) The Clinton Conundrum
Named after the title of a Robert Ludlum book (which was suppressed by the Twin Tower conspirators), this should be the second line of attack by the Republicans. One should always go for your enemy’s weakest point. In this case, that’s obviously the team within a team: ‘Team Clinton’. Of course, it would seem that the easiest way to do this was through Bill Clinton. With his less than wholesome appetites, he would make for the easiest victim of any sting operation but he would not be very effective in that role. Quite bluntly, the public wouldn’t expect anything else from him than being a moral black hole. So, it would be much better to play on the many fierce resentments Hillary Clinton still has - and I think most of us would agree that here is a woman who can hold a grudge with the best of them. Again, most people think that the person Hillary most resents is the man who beat her to the presidency. I’m sure she still hasn’t got over that totally but there must be a man she despises even more, the guy she can hold truly responsible for every insult and setback that she has had to suffer. Indeed, her husband Bill. So, why not use this fact and infiltrate a cute, and admiring, and slightly younger male intern, to lure her into an affair. The combination of a sympathetic (and flattering) ear and the idea of some serious payback time could prove to be irresistible.
3) A Contract on America
Named after Newt Gingrich’s old gambit, this should be considered as a last resort. A fall back option, if extreme make-overs and the Hillary sting don’t result in better ratings within, let’s say, three or four months. It’s not the most attractive option but it has been tried before, with quite spectacular results. So, what it lacks in cuddliness, it makes up for in terms of media attention - and it would, most certainly, end the monopoly of the Obama franchise, when it comes to the ‘change’ agenda. Plus, it would be a rather neat answer to what has become the very tiresome Democratic story line that has Obama as the new Lincoln. So, yes, if all else fails, there’s always this last option left: Secession.
They say that life is stranger than fiction. That’s probably right - but who’d have thought that life was actually even stranger than Freud?
I mean, we all have had to live with the wild bugbear hunt that team Bush has been selling to us as the ‘War on Terror’, for quite a while now. Which was and is and will remain a truly insane concept but if history teaches us anything, it is that humans do so love their silly crusades, never mind the cost.
Still, I have to admit that even I did not truly grasp what the attack on those twin towers actually meant. I thought it was, more or less, a case of some bearded psychopaths getting lucky. Not unlike a spotty and obsessed bunch of teenagers getting all their wishes rolled & fulfilled in one, when they get an invitation to spend a day in a porn flick studio.
What I didn’t appreciate was the deeper, Freudian truth behind 9/11. As the following news article shows it seemed that the terrorists had an entirely other thing to prove when they went for those huge, phallic symbols. Hats off to the late doctor again, for (somewhat belatedly) teaching us that at the roots of this seemingly mindless evil lay the dreaded spectre of both impotence and penis envy:
“The Afghan chieftain looked older than his 60-odd years, and his bearded face bore the creases of a man burdened with duties as tribal patriarch and husband to four younger women. His visitor, a CIA officer, saw an opportunity, and reached into his bag for a small gift. Four blue pills. Viagra. “Take one of these. You’ll love it,” the officer said. Compliments of Uncle Sam.”
(Such perfect timing: The biggest Christmas turkey ever…)
While this year’s biggest turkey, the dreadful ‘Australia’ movie, might feed a multitude of the most ravenous dinner guests, I still haven’t decided what would really make for a perfect Christmas dinner.
Sure, as one of nature’s natural Scrooges, I wish I could stuff Christmas trees down the throat of most carol singers - and I would like to pelt each pontificating church leader and/or politician with deadly volleys of boiling sprouts and drown all seasonal TV presenters in hot gravy.
All of that for starters, of course - but what to have for Christmas dinner myself?
(It doesn’t have to be a turkey, of course…)
Anyway, so, let’s try for a more or less traditional, five course menu.
Something like the following:
* We might start with a simple consommé of broken promises. A kind of alphabet soup, made from old George Bush speeches
* Then, we could have a soufflé of puffed up religion, filled with bigotry and hate messages from the religion of your choice
* After that, it would be time for a delightful amuse bouche of heart break, with a stuffing of lost loves, lost credit and/or lost jobs
* Now, for the big one, the pièce de résistance, the main course, made from all the ingredients that gave us the latest economic world crisis: Stupidity, greed, shortsightedness, corruption and incompetence. In short, all that defines and shapes us as human beings - with a gravy of hypocrisy, vanity and self-serving lies
* To finish things off, there will be a sorbet of hope, wild optimism and the illusion that, somehow, human nature will change so profoundly over the coming days that next year will be different from all the others in the blighted history of homo sapiens
(Because there was no room for them in the stable…)
Did you know that the Baby Jesus put out a restraining order on Bush and Blair?
I have to say that I did not - but it seems that Greek Orthodox monks think they acted on behalf of the Little Fellow when they ordered both these ex- and soon-to-be-ex-world leaders not to come near His stable:
“For many it may be the only way of participating in the anniversary of a story that shaped the world. The likes of Tony Blair and George Bush, who were banned for life by Greek Orthodox monks over the Iraq war, or Palestinians unable to get past Israel’s checkpoints to the holy Palestinian city, can now tune in to live pictures of Christmas in Bethlehem.”
Now, while I’m sure that this will make more riveting TV than the Queen’s speech, or yet another serving of ‘The great escape’, ‘EastEnders’ and/or ‘The world’s strongest man’, I have to admit I’m not really tempted to go watch the whole messy outcome of that Immaculate Conception live on air.
Call me old-fashioned but I would be with the ones who say they thought that the Book was better.
When it comes to ludicrous behaviour humankind is as dependable as a Swiss clock (or a swish celebrity hairdresser, if you want your images to be more ‘now’.)
So, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to read that, according to some study, ‘two-thirds of UK BlackBerry users are planning to check their e-mails before joining the rest of the family around the Christmas tree.’
Of course, they are, the stupid wankers.
Now, I have to declare a certain interest - or disinterest, perhaps: I hate mobile phones. I never owned one and I never will. The former head of the NRA, Charles heston, once famously said that they could take his gun away only when they’d pry it from his cold, dead fingers.
Me, I’m not actually that fanatical, so, if people would wish to do so, they could, at my funeral, throw as many mobile phones into my coffin as they like. Before that time though, you won’t see me with one of those bloody things.
Anyway, here’s (a link to) the rest of the story I quoted from in the second paragraph. Sometimes, after reading some stories, you don’t know whether to laugh or to throw up. On the whole, I prefer the former: Death by newspaper induced bulimia would be more than a bit silly. So, here, once more, we board the human folly express:
“Last week, another study foundthat 62 per cent of business travellers have taken their BlackBerry to bed in case an important work e-mail comes through during the night, while a quarter admitted to sleeping with their BlackBerry every night.”
You know, once upon a time, you could identify a certain class of slaves by the chains they wore, the oars they held and the galleys that they served.
These days, you recognize them by their suits and their fucking BlackbBerries.
As I’ve stated many times before, I love scientists. I have to say though that I’m not so sure about this particular bit of research:
“They are highly social, adhere to a rigid class system and are intensely house-proud. And now it emerges that bees resemble human beings in one more, previously overlooked, respect: they behave just like us under the influence of cocaine. Australian researchers found that bees which had been given a dose of cocaine threw themselves into unusually energetic dance routines, felt compelled to “talk” to their nest mates - and even went “cold turkey” when the drugs ran out.”
That’s - and how to say this politely? - mildly interesting but the first question that pushed all the others out of the way like a coked-up bully, was, ‘Why the fuck would you want to give cocaine to bees, in the first place?’
I’m sure the Bolivian cartels are not so hard up that they need to find new markets for their product and I’m equally sure that there wasn’t that much demand for it either.
I don’t know many bees that, after a hard day’s graft in some advertising agency or on the catwalk, need a few lines of coke, to get the party juices flowing again.
In fact, you’d think that bees were about the last species that needed any type of drugs to get a buzz.
