Tuesday 6 July 2010

Diamond Geezer

(All words used in this outpouring are mine and in no way reflect on the good breeding, impeccable manners and down right politeness of those mentioned or referred to. My chums and acquaintances tend to be well spoken, polite and thoroughly good eggs. It is your correspondent who has the foul mouth and the vile mind.)

Bumped into a Yank acquaintance of mine by accident at the endwoch. He spends a lot of time in SA since that’s where his spouse has her family. Haven’t seen him in donkeys, he’s a real Foundation Bitchboy, oh yes you thought I was just making the terminology up. Didn’t you? If you’ve been watching this thread develop over the past week or so, eminently and sensibly summed up over at Akira’s shop, then all I can say is stop whimpering the tall gaunt men are still striding.

So we chewed the rag a little and made plans to set someone’s back garden on fire and sink some BOWs in the very near future. I hadn’t seen him because he’d been out doing Foundation Bitchboy type things in the big wide world. His employer is a London based Tavistokian front for the pursuit of the dismal science. Got it? Oh and he’d fallen ill in the shit hole that is SA.

I enquired about the football of course. Well, he remarked that since his very recent return to UKplc there hadn’t been a single mention on the BBC or UKplc MSM about what a total dump the stinking hole was. Nothing. I replied that if you wanted to find out about the world the last place to look was Goebbels’ Gobshite Towers. Foundation Bitchboys and Boybitches. Actually I didn’t say that last part. The GGT had obviously been told that the wonderful dystopian paradise that is nothing but a sac full of perps and crims was the most wonderful rainbow nation to grace the 3rd rock. If they didn’t then they would be on their sorry arses in the street and never employed again. Bye bye carpet munching thatched cottage in the Cotswolds. Now being a regular wanderer round Sarah’s shop you and I really know what’s going down in the racist shithouse that is SA. I of course didn’t want my mate fired when he fires up his laptop in the office and Bill Gates’ Quisling machine reports him for reading verboten malarkey of the type attested at Sarah’s site. So I simply remarked that if anyone wanted to get some reportage on the kill rate and crime spree simply wander over to any Far Eastern news shop like Xinhua, the irony was not lost on him, to get some stories on how the great football fest was delivering tourists to the stealing and maiming machine where the Nobel Laureates hang out and watch the necklaces from the gated communities and armoured compounds.

On that we had to part since our minors were anxious to be getting about their day and not listen to two farts talking bollox.

Which reminds me, since SA has now been turned into a cross between Kubrick’s Clockwork and Pliskin’s New York how are the mines doing? Well just swimmingly. Rhodes did a good job there. All that gold and shiny carbon securely locked away in a land that will be knee deep Mad Maxian diversity, just the way TPTB like it. All that worthless shiny carbon that costs a fortune. If you can get your head round that scam then you’ve got to be kidding if the new carbon scam is going away.

Climategate is not what we thought it was. And the Gulf Oil Spill is not what we think it is either.

In order to even try and explain what is what here I’m going to take you round some of my favourite blogger’s shops picking up bits and pieces of the shards that will hopefully be brought together to make a useful reflecting pool.

Over at Pavlov’s Cat the big kitty was wondering about this. PC has the flavour of what’s going on here. I’ve remarked on this process on several occasions and there will be no let up in the proceedings. What we have here is a failure to communicate, ;-) GV, on a massive scale. Our young are being groomed to sympathise with the pandapuppydolphs rather than their fellow human beings. Slowly but surely weaning them away from human solidarity into the dark places where the Lead Pill Pharmacy await its newest recruits.

However this time they won’t be smelling any cordite because the slack jawed, obese mouse clickers won’t actually know what is happening when they administer some market mechanism and fire non existent entries in the great universal spreadsheet from one end of the virtual planet to the other. They will be too busy looking at the fluffypandababy bond’s investment performance to even think that they’ve just consigned millions more to death by toxic cuteness. Oh yes Lead Pilling is sooo 19th century. These days it is gene therapy that does the liquidation. They’ll therapy our genes out of existence and make sure only their DNA will be delivered in the baby boxes.

Meanwhile over at Goodnight Vienna, GV is scratching her head at this. As part of my weekend I found myself acting as escort to a bunch of INCOMING!!!!!!! minor’s chums. The party atmos was fantastic and they all screamed and yelled and generally got on with things sparklingly. However not one photo exists of the occasion. More verboten.

Now bearing in mind that you cannot fart in this country without it being captured on film and a fine being sent to your address, this is another telltale of the grooming to come. Especially if you recall all those images that Mr Getty has a license on and we don’t. Remember all those photo journos capturing everyone else’s farts over the past century which is then recycled into the propaganda matrix to convince us that what happened didn’t and what didn’t did. Now for some reason you are not allowed to take an image.

Well this is just one aspect of the destruction of memory. Our memories so that we are pliant when “their” imagery turns up via the GGT and the toffeebox.

And it is not just images it is names and numbers. Notice that every celeb's car registration details are expunged from our ken. Notice that very specifically on the panel show Mock the Week no one has a name. Did you notice that? Every other panel show had the name of the muppet being shovelled license payers money for being spontaneously combustible, but this lot are anomnibus. Get used to it. When you are before the Star Chamber you will not know the name of your accuser, your jailer, your executioner or the three foundation bitchboys and boybitches that are fitting you up. Go watch The Spy Who cam in From the Cold or read some Le Carre. It is coming to you when you express a little opinion of your own on any subject deemed off limits by the NOAHide crew.

Finally over at Spidey’s shop we have this. Which gets one to asking where are all the rabid elastane torching fuckwitz that marched and screamed and yelled during the 1960s and are curiously missing from the same issues today? Issues that they pranced around drawing attention to themselves about. If you felt so deeply about it all then why are you all decommissioned like old battleships today, toady? Have you all died? What about your offspring, aren’t they in the same line of business today? What about others? No it was all a load of fanny, wasn’t it? You didn’t give a fuck about it all. You just wanted a tenured position in a nice fat comfy university where you could continue causing havoc. Isn’t that so Bill and Bernadine? The flower pot men!

So here we are with a massive business selling nothing to us in the form of diamonds. Scam.

We have a new business selling nothing to us in the form of gaseous diamonds. Scam.

What is the Gulf Oil Disaster?

GOD has two things to accomplish.

Firstly GOD must kill off the Soviet knowledge about adiabatic oil formation that has got out into the mainstream after lurking out in the fringes for decades. This is achieved by making the sudden availability of endless supplies of oil a redundant issue. You see it isn’t peak oil that matters anymore. It is the terrible disaster that the activity causes that means we must stop. Dead.

Secondly GOD is going to get the cute little pandadolphbabees prime time in the forming consciousness of the young who will swallow the whole lot hook line and sinker. They will turn into rabid little eco Nazis that will lovingly kill of the disease that is humanity. That’s what the meritocracy will do when they get power. The click of a Carbon Trading mouse and the useless eaters will be expunged from history without a twinge of guilt.

And no one will remember because there will be not photographs, no images, no names and no witnesses of how we used to be before the paths finally stole all our young.

No one will remember that the way to treat the oil fountain is to let the clever little microbes have at it as I mentioned a little while back. Can't have that until our children have been denatured by denurture.