The Elegant Young Lady who put Position & Wealth before Love & the Unfortunate Circumstances that Arose.

knifetrollThis story is taken from my forthcoming anthology of tales from the land of Anywhere, The Curious Little Book Of Extraordinarily Big Tales, to be published February 2015.

When you say the words “Once upon a time,” anything can happen.

Once upon a time in the land of Anywhere, in a world long since forgotten, there lived, in the fine and prosperous city of Anyplace, a charming young couple. The couple were not yet Married or even Living in Sin (for this was as common in the land of Anywhere as it is in your own time and place), rather they were Courting with a view to Getting Married.

It was agreed by the people of the neighbourhood that the young couple were indeed a very handsome pair who seemed very happy together, Much In Love and, oh, what Beautiful Children they would have.

So, all was well with this charming young couple. Until.

Until Position And Wealth and Money raised their Ugly Heads.

You see, there was a considerable difference in the Social Standing of each half of this particular Lovely Young Couple.

The Boy, who you will come to know as Frederick, was of humble origins, for his parents were Lowly Farmers. He, himself, had come to the city of Anyplace at the age of eighteen to pursue his Love Of Painting, which it was generally agreed he was really rather good at. One day, maybe, he would be a Rich And Famous Painter. But maybe not, for few of those Equally Blessed And Cursed with an Artistic Temperament learn to Monetise It’s Value.

At least that’s the way the parents of The Girl, who you will come to know as Isobel, thought.

Isobel’s mother and father were Concerned Parents who considered themselves to have their Daughter’s Best Interests At Heart. They did not approve of Isobel’s relationship with Frederick for the boy’s Chosen Occupation and Humble Background simply were not good enough, he was an Unsuitable Suitor. Isobel’s parents were Wealthy And Successful Merchants who had made a Fortune trading and selling insurance against Troll attacks, Troll Depredation Insurance as it was known in the land of Anywhere. They considered it entirely realistic that within a decade or so, given more hard work on their part and a Good Marriage on Isobel’s, their family could join the ranks of the Truly And Extraordinarily Wealthy One Percent and live in one of the Fine And Opulent Mansions in the hills outside Anyplace.

For this reason, they came to the Firm Conclusion that Isobel’s romance with Frederick had to come to an end. The parents had believed that Isobel would grow out of Her Infatuation with the boy, but over a year had passed now since the two had met and still that had not happened. The girl obviously needed a Talking To, she had to be made to see The Error Of Her Ways.

And so the Concerned Parents sat Isobel down and told her the dispiriting tale of The Way Of The World. They explained to her that her boyfriend, though very handsome and talented in an artistic way was, given his chosen career path, unlikely ever to have Real Money. Who then would buy her all the Gorgeous Dresses And Shoes, from the chicest shops in Anyplace, that she was so fond of? And the Jewellery? And the Hats? And the Exotic Perfumes? And where would she live? Did she really want to live her life in Frederick’s poky little rented flat in a Poor Area of the city? And imagine, if they should have children, there would be no money for a Nanny and she would have to raise them herself! Oh, the indignity of it all. How people would laugh at her! Why, she would be Ostracised From Polite Society for abiding in such Poverty-stricken Misery!

Isobel sat there and listened to her parents. And at this point I know you want me to say that Isobel weighed her Love for Frederick against all the Shallow And Pointless Concerns that her parents had raised and came down firmly on the side of Love. I’m afraid not. For Isobel was truly her parents’ daughter. The shameful truth is that she was Shallow, and she was Obsessed With Money And Position. True to her Nature, she concluded her parents were right. Frederick had to go, he really was an Unsuitable Suitor. She had to make a Good Marriage. That way she would get all the Good Things From Life that she deserved so.

The very next day she sent one of her father’s servants to the shabby area of town where Frederick lived to deliver him a letter. In the letter, she told Fredrick that she did not love him and never had, he had been but a Diversion that had Run It’s Course and she no longer wanted to See Him or even Know Him.

Poor Frederick was heart-broken. He knew he and Isobel had, indeed, loved each other. Why had this happened? He did not understand.

Lovelorn and lost, Frederick took to waiting outside the house where Isobel lived. He would stand around, dazed and lost, until she left the property and then follow her, like an anxious puppy, around the city. He did not do this to stress or distress, for Frederick was a Truly Good Man with nothing but Love In His Soul, rather he did it because he still loved her intensely, despite her Brutal Rejection. Even to see her from afar filled his heart with joy.

Unfortunately, Frederick’s Sad And Lost Behaviour did not go unnoticed. In fact, his following of Isobel’s every footstep became the Subject Of Gossip. When this Gossip reached the ears of Isobel’s father he was Deeply Disturbed And Apocalyptically Angry. Fearing that such Gossip may damage his daughter’s chances of making a Good Marriage, he decided that Decisive Steps had to be taken.

Now, Isobel’s father had, like all wealthy people, a dark little secret. You see, the market in Troll Depredation Insurance in the land of Anywhere is fuelled by the on-going and continuous nature of Troll Attacks and General Troll-related Mischief. Unknown to the public, though, the majority of said Troll attacks were instigated and paid for by Isobel’s father to keep demand for his insurance services buoyant. This was a vital constituent of his business’s Marketing Strategy.

For this reason, he had Extensive Contacts within the Troll Community and decided to use these to “warn off” Frederick.

One night, a particularly large and vicious Troll (with a hefty payment from Isobel’s father in his pocket) snuck into the city of Anyplace under Cover Of Darkness. Stealthily, the Troll made his way to Frederick’s small flat. Skilfully and quietly he broke in, found his way into Frederick’s bedroom and bundled the hapless fellow into a Large Sack he had bought with him for just such a purpose.

Throwing the sack, kicking and screaming Frederick and all, over one burly shoulder the Troll made his way back out of Frederick’s flat and ran through the streets of Anyplace at that incredible speed that can be attained by a Troll In A Hurry, that being slightly faster than the animal that you know in your world as a cheetah.

Soon, the Troll and Frederick were outside the City Limits, the Troll still running. A few minutes later and Frederick and his kidnapper were deep within an isolated patch of forest.

The Troll stopped. He dropped the sack from his shoulder and shook it until Unfortunate Fredrick fell out. Then taking a hammer and a sharp knife, before the Dazed And Confused Frederik had time to react, he sliced deep cuts up and down the poor man’s face with the knife and used the hammer to break every finger on both of his hands.

Bewildered, shocked and in deep pain Frederick lay there in the dirt of the forest floor still unsure as to what had just happened. Then all came clear. As Frederick laying crying and bleeding, the Troll crouched down next to him and told him to stay away from Isobel: if he did not then he and Frederick would meet again and that meeting would make this one seem like a cosy chat between friends.

Standing up, the Troll threw his head back and gave a long, loud and evil laugh (more for effect than anything else as Troll’s are very much given to the Dramatic Gesture) before sprinting away.

Frederick was left there, in the dirt, mud and leaves, sliding in and out of consciousness, slowly bleeding to death from the wounds on his face for the Troll, in his enthusiastic violence, had cut far too deeply, turning what should have been a warning into a Potentially Fatal Occurrence.

And bled to death he would have done if, at that exact point had not Fate, the Blind Old Spinstress Who Weaves Together The Threads Of Our Lives, decided to intervene.

For along came a Fairy.

Now, in the land of Anywhere, Fairies are pretty much universally feared. This is for two reasons. The first is that they can see deep into the Human Soul and define a person’s nature in seconds. You can hide nothing from a Fairy. The second reason is the Duality Of Their Nature. Fairies are capable of using their Not Inconsiderable Powers Of Magic for either Great Evil (their tendency to steal human children for nobody knows what purpose, for example) or Great Good. Unfortunately, Fairies have a naturally mischievous nature so they tend to come down on the evil side. Needless to say, then, people in the land of Anywhere try to avoid Fairies at all costs.

So how would this Duplicitous And Untrustworthy by nature Fairy choose to react to poor, injured Frederick?

Fortunately for Frederick, this particular Fairy had a Story. What you would not know in your world, is that Fairies live for precisely 897 years and 13 days. And then, they simply de-materialise and cease to exist. Now on that particular day, our particular Fairy had reached the 897th year and 3rd day of her existence. During her life she had been a particularly Mischievous Fairy and, to not mince words, she had never used her powers for good, not even once. Staring down at Frederick, now completely unconscious, she examined his Soul and saw that there was nothing bad there, he was a Truly Good Man who was full of only Love and Beauty, a man who was a Painter and a True Artist, and she was moved: she could help this Good Man, and finally do a Good Thing in her life. In doing so she could not only Redeem herself but also pay tribute to the Beloved Memory of her Fairy Life-partner who had reached her 897th year and 13th day just the year before and who had been, as much as it’s possible, a Good Fairy.

Seeking Her Redemption, the fairy hovered above Frederick, closed her eyes, spread her arms and opened her mouth, from which came a low humming noise followed by a cloud of glittering, golden dust which gathered around the Fairy’s head before streaming off in two directions, half of the sparkling dust cloud coating Frederick’s bleeding face, the other half his broken fingers. The wounds glittered and shone, the Fairy closed her mouth and opened her eyes, the dust disappeared, Frederick’s wounds were…healed: his face was scarred and still mutilated but no longer bleeding; his fingers were knobbly, twisted, deformed…but no longer broken.

Frederick would not now die of his injuries, but the Fairy was aware that there were limits to her restorative powers. Frederick would no longer be a handsome man, indeed his face would be something that, on dark nights, would Scare Small Children. And his hands. His battered hands. He would never paint again. So the Fairy decided to give this Good Man one more gift. From this day on, as long as Frederick held a paint brush in his hands, Fairy Magic would do the rest and he would be able to commit to canvas the beauty that was in his Soul. As a final caveat, and just because she didn’t want to besmirch the reputation of Fairies by seeming too nice, Frederick would only be able to paint the Beauty of His Soul for as long as he remained a Truly Good Man.

Her job done and feeling Very Righteous, the Fairy went on her way. Now she had done something good she could spend her final days being especially bad: she was off to torment some Trolls and maybe steal a human child or two. What fun she was going to have!

Eventually Frederick awoke and found his way out of the forest. Back at his humble home he sat down and cried. What had happened to him? He remembered the Troll’s warning and the savage attack. But after that? How had his wounds healed so quickly? Somebody must have helped, but who? And why had they bothered? He had lost so much. He knew he could never see Isobel again, not just because the Troll would kill him but also because what woman would be interested in a man with such a Hideously Scarred face? Just as bad, Frederick realised, looking at his twisted fingers, that he’d never paint again. What was the point in living?

For some days Frederick lay in his bed trying very hard to die but Frustratingly Unable To Do So.

Suddenly, like an alarm clock or a small bomb going off, he was filled with an Over-powering and Irresistible urge to paint. But that was ridiculous. What could he do with his crippled fingers?

Nevertheless, the urge to create a picture was so strong within a few short minutes Frederick found himself in front of a blank canvas and a selection of paints. Awkwardly, he clasped a paint brush and gasped in amazement as his hand and arm took on a life of their own, painting a picture unbidden and unaided. He passed into a calm and warm trance, awaking only when the picture was finished. And what a picture it turned out to be! It was completely abstract in nature, shot through with beautiful colour that glowed and pulsed with the bloom of life; shapes that pleased and enticed the eye, soothed the mind and raised the spirits. Frederick saw he had just done something no artist had done before. He had created a picture of the Beauty In His Soul. He had caught the Infinite Power Of The Universe in a picture.

From that day, Frederick would carry on painting and after a number of years was immensely rich and well-regarded, his paintings being seen as amazing items of True Beauty, Much in Demand And Highly Valuable. And despite his physical short-comings and loss of his Beloved Isobel, Frederick became happy with his life, he would eventually move into a fine house in the Best Part Of Town and become a Noted Society Figure.

Meanwhile, things had gone badly for Isobel. Her family’s business had collapsed when a member of one of the families of the One Percent had decided there was unfulfilled potential in Troll Depredation Insurance and had started up a Highly Geared Business that priced Isobel’s family out of the market with Predatory Pricing.

The family’s wealth vanished like Fairy Mist on a summer’s morning and Isobel’s parents had to throw themselves upon the Mercy Of The Government and move into Social Housing. Upon finding out that Isobel was no longer wealthy all her Fine Friends deserted her. Her husband (who had turned out to not be such a good catch after all) threw his now Poor And Undesirable wife of No Social Standing and their two children out into the street, barring the doors of his Fine Home against them.

Seeking Shelter for her and the children, the Devastated Isobel went to her parents’ dilapidated Government tenement down a dark and dirty ginnel. They decided they had more than enough of their own problems; they told her and her mewling, snot-nosed brats to seek shelter elsewhere.

Desperate, Isobel could think of only one other place to go. To the home of a man who was now a Rich And Famous Artist: a man she had once loved, a man who, in her heart of hearts and if she allowed her Soul to be True To Itself rather than True To Her Nature, she still loved. A man who perhaps still loved her.

And so Isobel appeared on Frederick’s doorstep.

Upon opening his door and seeing Isobel there, Frederick found himself lost for words as all his old feelings of love for her came flooding back. She explained her circumstances to him, begged his forgiveness for the way she had treated him and appealed for help, if not for her at least for The Children.

At that point Frederick nearly, nearly, took Isobel back into his life. But suddenly his Heart Hardened. He thought of the pain and physical damage she had caused him. Of the betrayal of his love. He could not forgive her. He just could not do it. Quietly he closed the door in her face and she and her Children slunk away to be lost in the Fog Of Forgotten Stories that make up so much of history.

For a few moments, Frederick stood in the Grand Hallway of his Grand Home and thought maybe, just maybe, he should have forgiven Isobel and taken her in? Perhaps, even at this late stage, they could have built a life together?

No, she had been too inexplicably and devastatingly cruel to him, he had done The Right Thing.

Later that night, Frederick decided to try and improve what had been a bad day by painting one of his Much Desired Artworks. Frederick sat in front of a blank canvas. As usual his hands and arms began their work and he lapsed into his familiar trance-like state. And then he awoke. And what was before him was a disaster. The canvas was black, just black, an expanse of flat, dead, emotionless, meaningless black paint. It was a nothingness, bereft of Beauty And Soul. In a fit of panic, Frederick grabbed another blank canvas and tried again. The result was another dead mass of black. He tried again and again, working through the night but nothing changed and by the morning he had accumulated a collection of eight worthless, pointless, lifeless black canvases.

Frederick collapsed to the floor and sobs racked his body. He knew that he had made a bad decision, done the Wrong Thing and that something inside him had died, a thing of Great Beauty had left his life for ever, a Precious Gift had been taken away and would never be returned.

Is this the Scariest “Conspiracy Theory” of them all?

nukeRecent scientific studies have shown that people who believe in conspiracy theories are MORE sane than people who don’t. Apparently it takes a saner, more balanced and inquiring mind to at least think about what might lie behind a conspiracy theory than it takes to passively accept and inwardly digest the embarrassing excuse for journalism that is the daily stream of lies and propaganda pumped out by the presstitute Western media.

And let’s not forget, the term “conspiracy theory” was originally employed was as a pejorative by the CIA in the wake of the 1963 assassination of JFK to close down debate over what really happened: Kennedy was not killed by a communist sympathising, “lone wolf” but as a result of a deal between the CIA and the Mafia. The Mafia wanted revenge on Kennedy because after promising them to stymy investigations into their activities if they turned out the blue collar vote in his favour in the presidential election, he (or his brother, at least) did the opposite. The CIA wanted Kennedy out of the way because after the Bay of Pigs disaster they felt betrayed and feared Kennedy was going soft on Castro.

So, that brings me to me. Me and conspiracy theories. I used to think they were all mad. And then somewhere along the line I began to notice that many of then turned out true, or at least contained grains of truth.

And that, in turn, leads me on to the scariest conspiracy theory of all, one that is currently floating around the more esoteric corners of the Web. This one genuinely terrifies me as it does, when juxtaposed against current Geo-politics, seem to contain some of those “grains of truth” I previously mentioned.

The “conspiracy theory” that so scares me goes like this:

*Missing Malaysian Airlines flight MH370 is not, in fact, missing. Truth is, in an operation run by American secret services, it was diverted somewhere in the Middle East, where it currently sits in a hangar awaiting it’s mission.
*The fate of the passengers is also detailed in the theory. It is too grotesque and too distressing for me to write about. I refuse to go there.
*MH370 has been repainted. It has been rejigged so that it can be flown by remote control and packed with high explosives.
*Sometime in the next few months it will take to the skies again, destination Ukraine. And then…it will deliberately flown into a nuclear power station in Western Ukraine, creating an environmental catastrophe.
*Acting upon the instruction of their plutocratic masters, Western politicians and presstitutes will spread the lie that the jet was piloted into the power station from Eastern Ukraine by suicidal nationalists trained and financed by, you guessed it, those evil Russians. It was Russia’s fault. It was Putin what did it.
*The whole affair will then be ramped up 24/7 to hysteria-max and used as a justification to increase sanctions on Russia and put NATO troops into Ukraine who will push into Eastern Ukraine to clear out the “evil, Russian sponsored terrorist responsible for this appalling nuclear calamity.”
*This act will cross all Russia’s red lines. She, too, will intervene militarily in Ukraine and, ultimately, there will be a Nuclear war in Europe.

Here’s those “grains of truth.”

We already know that the US government has long been hijacked by a cabal of plutocratic/plutocrat serving right-wing, Neo-Con, spittle-flecked, ranting, nut jobs. They believe in “American exceptionalism,” that only America has a God-given right to rule the world. Actually, they don’t give a shit about America as such, patriotism is an unknown emotion to them, but they do see it’s vast military power as great way to ensure that they, and only they, remain rich and powerful. To maintain their privileged position and further their nutty, right-wing ideology (did you know, for example, that Dick Cheney genuinely believes that one day soon a red-coated heffer will be born in the “Holy Land,” signalling the start of the “End Times”) these people are prepared to stop at nothing and risk everything.

The ultimate Neo-Con aim is to destroy any rival, be it militarily or economic.

That’s what Ukraine has always been about. The US state department overthrew Ukraine’s democratic government and replaced it with a (fascist, anti-semitic) one of it’s own choosing. Acting on instruction that government has, since day one, desperately tried to lure Putin into sending troops into the country. Well aware of the trap that awaits him Putin has steadfastly refused. The shooting down of flight MH17 (which all except Western politicians and media now accept was done by a Ukrainian fighter jet, not Putin-backed eastern Ukrainian rebels) was an attempt to escalate matters. It failed. So now, the ultimate provocation is needed…NATO troops invading and fighting in Eastern Ukraine. For that, though, a justification is required. And what better a justification than a nuclear catastrophe that can be lain at Putin’s door.

With NATO troops fighting in Eastern Ukraine Russia will have no choice but to respond and, one way or another, our Neo-Con friends will make sure the whole thing spirals into a nuclear conflict on the European continent.

Before you ask, yes, there are people who are mad enough to believe that they could fight, win, benefit from and “control” a “limited” nuclear war in Europe. Those people are our rulers. They are psychopaths and they are consumed by a lust for power and wealth. Blinded by greed and lacking souls they are indescribably dangerous people.

This whole process will cause huge military and economic damage to Russia and render her a pariah state. Western Europe will be destroyed as an economic power, the threat of a mushroom cloud blossoming over Berlin, let alone the reality of it, will (as in WW2) cause massive capital flight from the Continent to the US (handy for the US plutocrats this one, they’ve now so profoundly raped the American economy that it’s little more than an empty shell, it’s only growth sector is war and the subsequent plunder it generates) and whole swathes of Western European industry, banking, finance will collapse, plunging Europe into a new Dark Age.

And bish bosh, there you go, in one fell swoop, a major military rival (Russia) and a major economic rival (the EU and, in particular Germany) to the hegemony of the American plutocrats removed.

After that, assuming there’s a world left, the Neo-Nutters will move on to destabilising and destroying the biggest rival of all. China.

P.S. I see on the news that Turkey has just reached an agreement with Russia to build a pipeline over it’s territory to carry gas from Russia to Europe. Oh, dear. Someone’s not playing the game. The last person to work with the Russians to build a gas pipe line through his country was Assad. And look what happened to Syria. Keep your eyes on Turkey, I guarantee you some interesting developments very soon…

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The Rapists who Rule Us: a US Army Veteran’s letter to Bush & Cheney.

tomas

Tomas Young. RIP.

If you read my blog regularly you’ll know that I believe we in the West live in a faux democracy, that in fact our political systems and our economy and the media have been captured by a small elite of extremely wealthy people who’s aim is to return society to feudalism and enrich themselves even beyond their own mind boggling wealth.

These people are frighteningly dangerous. They have no souls, they are motivated only by money and greed. Their contempt for you and me is boundless, to them we are no more than “a detail of history.” They are rapists and sociopaths. They will stop at nothing: murder, child rape, illegal wars, torture, financial fraud and endless criminality are the warp and weft of their everyday lives.

Everywhere you look in the world today, you can see their poisonous, bloodstained legacy: they have armed and financed ISIS to destabilise the Middle East, they shot down MH17 to demonise Russia, they worked with Fascists and Anti-Semites in Ukraine to install their own puppet government, they overthrew the elected government of Egypt because it was too Muslim, they finance and arm Israel and turn a blind eye as it slaughters children. And the list goes on…

But…no matter how many words I write, no matter how impassioned I try to be I will never be able to express my condemnation of the Rapists who Rule Us anything like as eloquently, effectively or movingly as in this letter written to George W Bush and Dick Cheney by US Army Veteran, Tomas Young. Tomas enlisted in the Army just two days after the 9/11 attacks. Following training, he was sent to fight Iraq. He was paralyzed after being shot in his spinal cord after just five days in the country

Tomas died 10 November 2014, from longstanding  complications caused by his spinal injury. He was just 34 years old. He wrote this letter to the war criminals and mass murderers Bush and Cheney on his deathbed.

I am humbled by this man’s bravery, sacrifice and passion.

“I write this letter on the 10th anniversary of the Iraq War on behalf of my fellow Iraq War veterans. I write this letter on behalf of the 4,488 soldiers and Marines who died in Iraq. I write this letter on behalf of the hundreds of thousands of veterans who have been wounded and on behalf of those whose wounds, physical and psychological, have destroyed their lives. I am one of those gravely wounded. I was paralyzed in an insurgent ambush in 2004 in Sadr City. My life is coming to an end. I am living under hospice care.

I write this letter on behalf of husbands and wives who have lost spouses, on behalf of children who have lost a parent, on behalf of the fathers and mothers who have lost sons and daughters and on behalf of those who care for the many thousands of my fellow veterans who have brain injuries. I write this letter on behalf of those veterans whose trauma and self-revulsion for what they have witnessed, endured and done in Iraq have led to suicide and on behalf of the active-duty soldiers and Marines who commit, on average, a suicide a day. I write this letter on behalf of the some 1 million Iraqi dead and on behalf of the countless Iraqi wounded. I write this letter on behalf of us all—the human detritus your war has left behind, those who will spend their lives in unending pain and grief.

I write this letter, my last letter, to you, Mr. Bush and Mr. Cheney. I write not because I think you grasp the terrible human and moral consequences of your lies, manipulation and thirst for wealth and power. I write this letter because, before my own death, I want to make it clear that I, and hundreds of thousands of my fellow veterans, along with millions of my fellow citizens, along with hundreds of millions more in Iraq and the Middle East, know fully who you are and what you have done. You may evade justice but in our eyes you are each guilty of egregious war crimes, of plunder and, finally, of murder, including the murder of thousands of young Americans—my fellow veterans—whose future you stole.

Your positions of authority, your millions of dollars of personal wealth, your public relations consultants, your privilege and your power cannot mask the hollowness of your character. You sent us to fight and die in Iraq after you, Mr. Cheney, dodged the draft in Vietnam, and you, Mr. Bush, went AWOL from your National Guard unit. Your cowardice and selfishness were established decades ago. You were not willing to risk yourselves for our nation but you sent hundreds of thousands of young men and women to be sacrificed in a senseless war with no more thought than it takes to put out the garbage.

I joined the Army two days after the 9/11 attacks. I joined the Army because our country had been attacked. I wanted to strike back at those who had killed some 3,000 of my fellow citizens. I did not join the Army to go to Iraq, a country that had no part in the September 2001 attacks and did not pose a threat to its neighbors, much less to the United States. I did not join the Army to “liberate” Iraqis or to shut down mythical weapons-of-mass-destruction facilities or to implant what you cynically called “democracy” in Baghdad and the Middle East. I did not join the Army to rebuild Iraq, which at the time you told us could be paid for by Iraq’s oil revenues. Instead, this war has cost the United States over $3 trillion. I especially did not join the Army to carry out pre-emptive war. Pre-emptive war is illegal under international law. And as a soldier in Iraq I was, I now know, abetting your idiocy and your crimes. The Iraq War is the largest strategic blunder in U.S. history. It obliterated the balance of power in the Middle East. It installed a corrupt and brutal pro-Iranian government in Baghdad, one cemented in power through the use of torture, death squads and terror. And it has left Iran as the dominant force in the region. On every level—moral, strategic, military and economic—Iraq was a failure. And it was you, Mr. Bush and Mr. Cheney, who started this war. It is you who should pay the consequences.

I would not be writing this letter if I had been wounded fighting in Afghanistan against those forces that carried out the attacks of 9/11. Had I been wounded there I would still be miserable because of my physical deterioration and imminent death, but I would at least have the comfort of knowing that my injuries were a consequence of my own decision to defend the country I love. I would not have to lie in my bed, my body filled with painkillers, my life ebbing away, and deal with the fact that hundreds of thousands of human beings, including children, including myself, were sacrificed by you for little more than the greed of oil companies, for your alliance with the oil sheiks in Saudi Arabia, and your insane visions of empire.

I have, like many other disabled veterans, suffered from the inadequate and often inept care provided by the Veterans Administration. I have, like many other disabled veterans, come to realize that our mental and physical wounds are of no interest to you, perhaps of no interest to any politician. We were used. We were betrayed. And we have been abandoned. You, Mr. Bush, make much pretense of being a Christian. But isn’t lying a sin? Isn’t murder a sin? Aren’t theft and selfish ambition sins? I am not a Christian. But I believe in the Christian ideal. I believe that what you do to the least of your brothers you finally do to yourself, to your own soul.

My day of reckoning is upon me. Yours will come. I hope you will be put on trial. But mostly I hope, for your sakes, that you find the moral courage to face what you have done to me and to many, many others who deserved to live. I hope that before your time on earth ends, as mine is now ending, you will find the strength of character to stand before the American public and the world, and in particular the Iraqi people, and beg for forgiveness.”  TOMAS YOUNG. RIP.

 

 

The Repugnant Royal Family: too mean to pay their TV Licence

RoyalPIG

“I is Royal, me, innit…so gimme your dosh and fuck off, you skanky pleb.”

Funny little article hidden away (as these things usually are) in an obscure corner of The Times yesterday.

Seems some chap (a journalist, strangely enough, which is unusual as most journalists strenuously try to avoid writing about the truth) made a Freedom of Information request to the BBC asking why TV sets in Royal Palaces seem to be unlicensed.

The good old BBC, that creatively bankrupt bastion of the upper middle class, workplace for the idiot children of the well off, ringpiece of the establishment and yet another unjustifiable bastion of privilege for posh people paid for by YOU, immediately sprang into action and refused to answer the request, citing “security” considerations.

The Information Commissioner’s Office then duly did its duty and, now hold on to something because this may make you fall over with surprise (not), upheld the BBC’s decision.

So, despite the fact that YOU have to pay the TV Licence on pain of going to prison, despite the fact that the vast wealth of the Idiot Royal Family comes from you, the Taxpayer, or was stolen generations ago (from you, the taxpayer) by the sociopathic ancestors of the Revolting Royals, despite the fact that the Royals live in opulently furnished and vastly expensive Council Houses paid for by, you got it, YOU. Well, despite all this, you don’t have the right to know if the Royal Family pay their TV Licence or not.

The fact that the powers that be refuse to tell us if The Royals pay the TV licence is, in fact, a 100% admission that they do NOT.

How disgusting is that. These hideous, graceless, corrupt Royals, people who can barely sign their own names, who live a life of wealth and privilege entirely at the taxpayers expense regard us with such contempt, and are so mean with and obsessed by money, that they can’t even be bothered to do like the rest of us and pay their fucking TV Licence. What a bunch of tossers.

Please, please let’s get rid of these people. Trust me, they Royal’s are well dodgy (Prince Andrew and Kazakhstan, anyone?). They contribute nothing to society, we could so live without them. They are personality free, pointless, years of inbreeding have left them as thick as prison walls and I suspect that their personal hygiene leaves a lot to be desired. For God’s sake, the Queen Mother wanted to sell us out to the Nazis!!

Surely, in the 21st century, the practice of pointing at a new-born baby and saying “you will have a life of luxury, privilege and wealth for no other reason than you squeezed your way out of so-and-so’s Royal Vagina” is redundant?

Image: emblemsbf.com

25 ways the GREEDY ONE PERCENT have hollowed out America’s economy and society.

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“Drag them out into the street and….”

Back in the 1980’s, the rich and the wealthy, the ONE PERCENT, determined to reverse post war social mobility, welfare and the development of civil society, reversed up the arse of the political class and has operated it like a glove puppet ever since. Politicians, corrupted by money and ambition, now serve exclusively the wants and desires of the One Percent and the economy too has been retooled to serve their purposes. In short, we are ruled by a clique of Oligarchs and plutocrats. These people are sociopaths and their avowed aim is to turn back the clock to the good old days of feudalism and, most importantly, make themselves even richer. They are already rich beyond the dreams of avarice, but they want more, more, more. All they understand is more and in the perma-quest for more of everything they have undermined and corrupted capitalism, creating a smoke and mirrors economy of illegality, lies, deception, propaganda and debt…an unsustainable Zombie economy that is now teetering on the edge of a cataclysmic crash that could take as all with it.

Here’s what these disgusting people have done to America in just 30 years: note to Europeans…don’t be smug: where America goes, we follow.

*The American Dream is dead. Social mobility in America has collapsed to the lowest in the industrial world. If you are born poor in America, you will likely die poor in America.

*The rate of small business ownership in America is now lower than it has ever been.

*49m people in America (including 16m children) are experiencing food poverty.

*There are more women in America receiving food stamps than there are in full-time employment.

*The Pentagon (i.e the military-industrial complex) now spends 70% of all American tax receipts.

*Nine out of ten of the top ten occupations in America pay less than $35k per year.

*Allowing for inflation, average household income in the United States is still 8 percent lower than it was before the 2007 crash.

*In 2007, approximately 17% of all unemployed workers had been out of work for six months or longer.  That figure is now about 34%.

*The number of part-time jobs in America has increased by 54 percent since  2007 but, at the same time, the number of full-time jobs has decreased by more than a million.

*According to the U.S Census Bureau, 23.4% of California residents currently live in poverty.

*New jobs created since the 2007 crash pay in average 23% less than those lost in the crash.

*Half of all college graduates in America are, due to lack of jobs and decent paying jobs, still financially dependent on their parents twp years after leaving college.

*The New York Times has stated that the average American household is now 36% less wealthy than it was 10 years ago.

*66% of American households CAN’T RAISE $400 CASH without selling possessions or borrowing from friends.

*However, the 113 highest paid employees at the Federal Reserve headquarters in Washington D.C. make an average of $246,506 a year.

*And 40 million dollars has been spent on vacations for Barack Obama and his family.

*In 2007, the top 5 percent of households had, on average, 16.5 times more wealth than the average household overall.  Those households now have 24 times more wealth than the average household overall.

*31% of all American car loans are sub-prime.

*The average American household credit card debt stands at $15,607.

*In terms of purchasing power, China has a bigger economy than America.

*Just 5 of America’s big banks have exposure to debt of $40 TRILLION dollars.

*America’s national debt increased by 1 TRILLION dollars in the last financial year alone.

*America’s GREEDY ONE PERCENT possess 39.8% of all U.S. wealth.

*Just 16,000 American families own $16 TRILLION in assets, equal to the combined wealth of the bottom two-thirds of all American families.

*Wealth inequality in America is now back to the levels of the 1920’s…and increasing!

“Please don’t think that the politicians can help you, we own them body and soul, they work for us, not you. Don’t think for a moment that elections represent a genuinely democratic choice, rather see them for what they actually are, a reshuffling of pig snouts around the trough. Don’t you see, people like you should be dragging people like me out into the streets and kicking us to death, people like you should be invading the City of London, pulling the bankers and hedge fund managers out of their plush offices and hanging them from lamp posts. Do it. Don’t do it. But if you don’t do it, you are so, so fucked.”

-Andrew Manning, “I Really, Really Want It,” available as an ebook and paperback from:

Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Boris Johnson: “No poor people in London, please.”

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“Cripes..it’s one of those Ordinary People, quick, chaps, shoot the blighter!”

Reading The Guardian I see that one of our esteemed ruling class has just gone and excelled himself. Boris Johnson has just given approval for the building of 98 “affordable rent” apartments on the site of the old Royal Mail Mount Pleasant depot in North London.

But that’s good, you say. Prices as high as they are in London, you say, we need more affordable housing. And I quite agree.

Unfortunately, Boris’s idea of “affordable” is not quite the same as yours and mine.

The rent on these “affordable” flats will be £2800 per month. That’s £33,600 per year. For that to be affordable, you would need to earn, before tax, £100,000 per year.

In other words, Boris is an arsehole. Boris doesn’t come across as a shambling, moronic buffoon as part of his “image,” he comes across as a shambling, moronic buffoon because he is one. Like many of his ilk he’s wonderfully educated and can talk about concepts like “Latinate words” in everyday conversation (apparently he believes politicians should not use them as ordinary common folk are too thick and only understand words with vulgar Anglo-Saxon roots) but he’s not particularly clever (which is not the same as educated) and in terms of emotional intelligence the guy is severely retarded, barely functional in fact.

For fucks sake. How out of touch is this twat?

Completely is the answer. Boris wouldn’t know what an ordinary person was if one came up to him and smashed his teeth out. And why would he be?

Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson (to give him his full name) was born into money and privilege in 1964. He is a descendant of King George II and (disturbingly) 8th cousin to David Cameron (with whom he shares the Stupid Gene…). He went from Nanny to Eton to Oxford to journalism (a well-known refuge for the well-educated idiot children of the Upper Classes) to politics. In other words, he’s never done a proper days work in his life and has never strayed out of his own cosy, secure world of wealth and privilege.

So, yes, to Boris £33,600 a year is not only an affordable rent, it’s a bargain.

Or at least it is to one of his Oligarch mates. Because besides showing up Boris as an out of touch, emotionally-incompetent arsehole, the £34k a year affordable flat also reveals his true colours. Boris is a representative of his own class and represents only his own class. Boris is the man who has sold London out from under the feet of ordinary Londoners, parceling it up and doling it out for rubles, dollars and renmimbis to the Global Rich. Now with his £34k “affordable” flats has signaled determination to make sure that there’s no way those nasty poor people can afford to live in London: I mean, poor people, oh good grief, we don’t want that, they might bring down Property Values. Let them fuck off to Luton….