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The Way Ahead

October 10, 2011



My boat lightly tosses on the broad waters,
The wind, whirling, blows my robe about.
I ask a traveler of the way ahead.

— from Returning Home by Tao Yuan-ming (365-427 AD)

Most of you have remarked on the absence of our esteemed comrade Mowbray. I don’t think he’ll be angry with me for telling you that he’s not been well lately and hasn’t felt up to commenting. I’m sure you all join me in wishing him a speedy return to his usual sparkling form, so that we can once again confidently say:

‘…his eye was not dim , nor his natural force abated.’ — Deuteronomy 34:7

  1. henrylloydmoon permalink
    October 11, 2011 9:25 AM

    The PH brightest and the best
    Gathered at Southampton. Their quest?
    To scour the strange, remote South-West
    For the Bearded Sage of Yarmouth

    Julian, Timmy, Anne and Dick
    And I, a quaint hermaphrochick,
    Armed with compass and walking stick
    And an old street map of Yarmouth

    Our quest was simple: we would find
    The Sage and beg him for a sign
    Before the leaves upon the line
    Thwarted our return from Yarmouth

    His seasonal nomadic ways
    Caused us to yomp for days and days
    In search of enigmatic phrase
    You wish had come from Yarmouth

    For hours we waited by his tent –
    Our Rimmel run, our garments rent,
    Our resolve anchored in cement –
    For the Bearded Sage of Yarmouth

    At last the Sage emerged, brandished
    A Twirl – two fingers, one flourish:
    The eloquence so dearly wished
    From the Bearded Sage of Yarmouth

    • October 11, 2011 10:31 AM

      “Our Rimmel run…” – at last a man who understands the perils of mascara and eyeliner. At what point were the stale gingerbread and ginger beer consumed?

  2. October 11, 2011 9:32 AM

    I send MM the full extent of my arsenal of healing vibes (uh, be careful, there may be some old porn in there)…!

  3. October 11, 2011 10:16 AM

    I can call off the private eye so; he’s costing me a fortune in trench coats and magnifying glasses. Much love, MM. Sorry for being a pain in the arse waving the old divining rod. (that’s divin “ing” SA, not giving your nickname away).

  4. hic8ubique permalink
    October 11, 2011 1:12 PM

    …The weather damp and low’ring skies unclear
    our sodden party proffered gifts to cheer
    the Sage: stale gingerbread and ginger beer;
    only the finest for the Toast of Yarmouth.

    Apologies from me too, dear MM, for my provoking prong on the divining rod.
    Love and sustaining wishes to you and yours.

  5. mishari permalink*
    October 11, 2011 1:28 PM

    I hope MM is getting as much amusement as I am out of the story of Dr. Fox and his, ahem…’best friend’, Adam Werrity.

    Mr. Werrity, it seems, even accompanies the good Dr. and his wife, Dr. Beard (You mean ‘Baird’-Ed.{I know what I mean-M.}) when they go on holiday. Golly…that must be, erm…interesting.

    Meanwhile, in geriatric news…

    Cannabis-laced brownies served at a south California funeral sent three people to the emergency room over the weekend, Huntington Beach police said.

    Two 71-year-old women and an 82-year-old man were taken to hospital on Saturday following a friend’s memorial service, where a tray of pot brownies was offered. They complained of nausea, dizziness and an inability to stand without assistance. — The Grauniad, today

    Comment would, I think, be superfluous…

  6. mishari permalink*
    October 12, 2011 12:19 AM

    A police investigation determined that the couple’s courtship was a brief one. They had met for drinks at a nearby bar “before moving to the back seat of the Buick.” When questioned by cops, neither Daniels nor Adams–both of whom were unsteady and smelled of booze–knew the other’s name.

    …and people say romance is dead…

    Oh, and before I forget, this deserves mention. When Dr. Fox was asked if his, ahem… ‘best friend’ Adam Werrity had benefited financially by his relationship with Dr. Fox, Fox delivered the following bit of linguistic 3-Card Monte:

    “When it comes to the pecuniary interests of Mr Werritty in those conferences, I am absolutely confident that he was not dependent on any transactional behaviour to maintain his income.”

    Huh? For sheer obfuscatory chutzpah, this sentence is now enshrined in the PolHom Hall of Syntactical Infamy. Hats off to the good Dr. for services to…erm…attempting to duck a bullet, I guess.

    Meanwhile…given the state of the world, there’s not much to feel upbeat about. However, for all of us music fans, yearning to fill the William Shatner-shaped hole in our lives, the news is all good. It’s music, Jim…but not as we know it.

  7. mishari permalink*
    October 12, 2011 1:21 PM

    You just can’t beat the internet as an educational tool:

    A Chinese man turned up at the emergency room with a milk-bottle lodged in his lower bowel, as seen in this x-ray. He told hospital staff that he’d been trying to relieve constipation.

    Not quite as embarrassing as the vicar who turned up in agony at a hospital — with a potato stuck in his bottom.

    Says A & E nurse Trudi Watson: “He explained to me, quite sincerely, he had been hanging curtains naked in the kitchen when he fell backwards on to the kitchen table and on to a potato. But it’s not for me to question his story.”

    This photo of said potato goes some way to explaining the vicar’s misfortune.

  8. hic8ubique permalink
    October 12, 2011 1:22 PM

    Perhaps there’s a subliminal message we are meant to infer through the haze:

    “I am absolutely confident that he was not dependent on any income to maintain his transactional behaviour .”

    PolHom Hall of Syntactical Infamy
    Love this idea.

  9. mishari permalink*
    October 12, 2011 6:18 PM

    Entertaining Matthew Norman piece on Dr. Fox and his, ahem, friend Adam Werrity:

    If being an unpaid companion meant enduring tedious meetings about defence-related contracts – contracts believed, in some circumstances, to carry finder’s fees for middle men running into the millions – so be it. There was nothing he wouldn’t put up with to support his friend.

    Had his career as conjoined twin begun when Foxy went to the MoD last year, it might look suspicious. But it began years ago when Foxy’s stint shadowing health coincided with him launching a health consultancy firm.

    Not that such trivia as job specifications are relevant to the friendship. If Liam became a manager at McDonald’s, Adam would appear in the paper hat asking, “Fries with that?”.

    Were Liam – tired of being grudgingly tolerated by a PM nervous of offending the Tory right by sacking him from the Cabinet – to plump for the life of a Bedouin nomad, he couldn’t cross ten grains of sand before Adam trotted over the nearest dune with several months’ worth of fat stored in the humps on his back.

    Article HERE.

    …and in exploding undergarment news:

    A Nigerian man said Wednesday he tried to bring down an international flight over Detroit with a bomb in his underwear in retaliation for the killing of Muslims worldwide, taking a federal court by surprise as he pleaded guilty on the second day of his trial.

    Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab, who had never denied the accusations against him, calmly answered questions from U.S. District Judge Nancy Edmunds before pleading guilty to all eight charges he faced, including conspiracy to commit terrorism and attempted use of a weapon of mass destruction.

    He then told the court that the underwear bomb was a “blessed weapon to save the lives of innocent Muslims.” —

    The Blessed Underwear Bomb: verily, the Lord moveth in mysterious ways his wonders to perform.

  10. Edward Taylor permalink
    October 12, 2011 10:36 PM

    Over on the Poster Poems Fromwelltoverse has praised atf’s “rap poem.” Excellent.

    I’m next I expect.

    MM if you’re reading this the Frome poem showed the old touch is on its way back. Get well soon and apologies for suggesting that it was the success of your breakdancing crew that was keeping you away. Unless it was the success of your breakdancing crew.

  11. MeltonMowbray permalink
    October 12, 2011 11:32 PM

    ‘Good evening, Mr Werrity,’ said Mr Pickwick, ‘have you not brought your good friend the Doctor?’
    ‘Indeed I have not,’ said Mr Werrity, his bald pate gleaming in the firelight. ‘The Doctor is engaged in a weassessment of our awmed forces. The Woyal Navy, as you know, is much in need of a new wadar system.’
    ‘So I understand,’ said Mr Pickwick, ‘but where can such technology be obtained?’
    ‘Fortunately’, said Mr Werrity, ‘I have been able to persuade my friends Mr Gimcwack and Mr Twash to take the contwact. Ah, is that a pork bawwel? May I sample it?’
    ‘By all means,’ said Mr Pickwick.

    Thanks to all for your kind remarks, and kudos to HLM for the fine poem. Unfortunately I return only to leave again. Off to look at some ruins for a few days. The objective correlative was never more apt.

    • October 12, 2011 11:37 PM

      Old Possum writes a superb poem and MM reappears. I head bedwards with a happy heart.

    • October 12, 2011 11:48 PM

      P.S. I don’t think I have missed anyone as much since my four year old boyfriend, Paul, moved to Australia taking my prize conker with him.

    • October 12, 2011 11:49 PM

      I should clarify that I, too, was four at the time.

  12. mishari permalink*
    October 12, 2011 11:40 PM

    A thousand welcomes, effendi…hurry back.

    Thanks, Reine…glad you liked it.

  13. Edward Taylor permalink
    October 13, 2011 1:05 PM

    Some very funny photos of Liam Fox in the print version of the Guardian today.

    Was in London yesterday and found time to see the Grayson Perry exhibition at the British Museum. There’s a lot of Perry ( much better than I’d thought ) but a whole lot of terrific objects disinterred from the BM’s vaults.

    One statuette carved by the Haida tribe from what we called British Columbia shows what they thought of the Brits. It’s a man in a stove-pipe hat pulling a woman along by the hair and aiming a gun at the woman’s chest. Presumably the Brits at the time were calling the Haida savages.

    It’s a good exhibition but it’s the second one I’ve been to recently where the gift/knick-knack shop has inveigled its way into the exhibition itself which for delicate, sensitive souls such as myself (what the hell do you mean? Fuck off with that implication!) is a bit upsetting. Sign of the times I guess.

    • hic8ubique permalink
      October 13, 2011 2:53 PM

      Did you see my mother and sister? They were there at the BM yesterday.
      I have fixed mealings about that; would have liked to go, but without the company.

      Now EdT, don’t be over-sensitive, but I’m pretty sure you meant ‘disinterred’ or exhumed or some such. [Fixed-Ed.]

  14. Edward Taylor permalink
    October 13, 2011 4:03 PM

    The editor usually runs a spell-check over my comments and although he’s corrected one error I made he hasn’t spotted that one. Who else can I blame?

    Do your mother and sister shout at museum attendants? if so I saw them.

  15. hic8ubique permalink
    October 13, 2011 6:11 PM

    You could blame me for being hypercritical.
    They wouldn’t shout. My mother would approach the parents of small children to advise them of anything hazardous in an exhibit. My sister would be huffy because ancient ladies were beating a path to the front of the crowd with their walker-frames.
    I like to listen to music and ignore as much human behaviour as possible, since in American museums, there’s always someone with a need to declaim his views not only for the benefit of his companions but for everyone in the gallery.

    • October 13, 2011 11:48 PM

      My art appreciation today came in the form of a leopard print shoe boot purchase, a natural reaction I thought to having to shell out 300 quid, unexpectedly, on my car. Hung for a sheep as a lamb. It’s enough to make one’s stove-pipe hair (sic) stand on end (and the bank manager’s). If you were looking for my mother at any museum, you’d find her at the nearest ashtray wondering when you’d be ready to go shopping, drinking wine … or to mass. “They all look much the same to me.”

    • hic8ubique permalink
      October 14, 2011 12:05 AM

      …in the form of a leopard print shoe boot purchase…

      It’s only fair.
      Did you not find yourself in need of a new lipstick as well?
      That was fortitude indeed.

    • hic8ubique permalink
      October 14, 2011 12:07 AM

      …I’m afraid I don’t understand the hair…Oh the shock of it! yes, now I see.

    • October 14, 2011 12:13 AM

      Hic, it was a typo from earlier in the day identified by one Ed and corrected by another. Lovely image though which amused and stayed with me throughout the day. I just wanted to put it in a sentence. (Not lipstick, perfume… oh Christ, I really am going to be brought to the debtors’ court).

    • October 14, 2011 12:18 AM

      They won’t have seen shoes the likes of them in Marshalsea. At least they’ll be a talking point to while away the hours.

    • hic8ubique permalink
      October 14, 2011 12:50 AM

      The Marshalsea, Wemmick, stovepipe hats… PH is going all Dickensian, and our cars are deteriorating.
      Mini (blessedly nouveau-Deutsch) have just now sent me email appealing to stick-drivers.
      They know we are slipping the clutch backwards, and shrewdly extend hope and succour.

      Mini Cooper, I am willing, though I am not able.

  16. hic8ubique permalink
    October 13, 2011 6:57 PM

    I might have summoned up a few choice words for a museum guard on Sunday…

    I met my son for a follow-up visit to Boston’s MFA, since the newly designed Contemporary wing hadn’t yet opened when we were there in Aug, and he wanted to see that especially. There was a lovely welcoming message suggesting that the participation of the viewer was necessary for a work of art to become complete. In this spirit of interaction, or so it seemed to me, there was a very long glass bead curtain in the doorway dividing the first and second galleries. Picasso’s Rape of the Sabine Woman was in the first gallery; that was the most interesting piece by far. ( I hadn’t realised one could be both contemporary and several decades deceased.)
    In the second gallery the first thing to meet the eye was a silver ball, about the size of a basketball, in the path. I gave it a discreet nudge with the toe of my shoe and found it was anchored, so not terribly dynamic.
    I bent down to feel what it was made of, whereupon a guard warned me off.
    But he was not the sole deterrent; it quickly became apparent that whenever a guest approached an exhibit too closely a pulsing alarm would sound — loud enough to clear a building in the event of fire.

    The art was in the main fairly underwhelming. Much of it had what I considered ‘apologies’; the c.v. plaques which might have just given the artists/the media/the dates, went into a song and dance over who and what was being referenced and how and why. There were even attendant miniatures of historic works to demonstrate artistic lineage.

    I’m sure this has been curated with great attention to making the Contemporary wing ‘relevant’ and ‘accessible’ to the grazing public. (The rest of the museum is not like this.) but it all came across as verging on ludicrous with the alarm sounding off every few minutes, and not much (excepting the teaser: the Picasso) being allowed to stand on its own evident (or not) merits.
    On the plus side, belligerent old ladies ‘stayed away in droves’.

    There was a Degas’ Nudes special exhibit, which I enjoyed more, though it was somewhat spoilt by the airless hole it’s been hung in.

  17. mishari permalink*
    October 13, 2011 9:02 PM

    R.I.P. Dennis Ritchie, creator of the C programming language and co-developer of the Unix operating system, who died on October 8 at the age of 70. To quote Wired:

    Ritchie’s C is the fundamental building block upon which much of what we consider to be the modern world was built.

    The C programming language is the basis of nearly every programming and scripting tool, whether they use elements of C’s syntax or not. Java, JavaScript, Objective C and Cocoa, Python, Perl, and PHP would not exist without Ritchie’s C. Every bit of software that makes it possible for you to read this page has a trace of Ritchie’s DNA in it.

    By creating C, Ritchie gave birth to the concept of open systems. C was developed so they could port Unix to any computer, and so that programs written on one platform (and the skills used to develop them) could be easily transferred to another.

    In that way, Ritchie has shaped our world in much more fundamental ways than Steve Jobs or Bill Gates have. What sets him apart from them is that he did it all not in a quest for wealth or fame, but just out of intellectual curiosity. Unix and C were the product of pure research.

    …and if you think Ritchie will get the same fawning, lachrymose send-off that the those pig-ignorant ‘hipsters’ at The Guardian gave to billionaire salesman Steve Jobs…well…let’s see if he even gets a mention.

  18. mishari permalink*
    October 14, 2011 7:56 AM

    Good piece by Glenn Greenwald on the latest ‘Iran terror plot’ AKA The Keystone Cops Go Global:

    The most difficult challenge in writing about the Iranian Terror Plot unveiled yesterday is to take it seriously enough to analyze it. Iranian Muslims in the Quds Force sending marauding bands of Mexican drug cartel assassins onto sacred American soil to commit Terrorism — against Saudi Arabia and possibly Israel — is what Bill Kristol and John Bolton would feverishly dream up while dropping acid and madly cackling at the possibility that they could get someone to believe it.

    The ironies here are so self-evident it’s hard to work up the energy to point them out. Outside of Pentagon reporters, Washington Post Editorial Page Editors, and Brookings “scholars,” is there a person on the planet anywhere who can listen with a straight face as drone-addicted U.S. Government officials righteously condemn the evil, illegal act of entering another country to commit an assassination?

    Does anyone, for instance, have any interest in finding out who is responsible for the spate of serial murders aimed at Iran’s nuclear scientists? Wouldn’t people professing to be so outraged by the idea of entering another country to engage in assassination be eager to get to the bottom of that?

    Then there’s the War on Terror irony: our Hated Enemy here (Iran) is a country which had absolutely nothing to do with the 9/11 attack. Meanwhile, our close ally, the victim on whose behalf we are so outraged (Saudi Arabia), is not only one of the most tyrannical and aggressive regimes on the planet, but produced 15 of the 19 hijackers and had extensive and still-unknown involvement in that attack.

    If the U.S. is so deeply offended by the involvement of a foreign government in an attack on U.S. soil, it would be looking first to its close friend Saudi Arabia, where “elements of the government” were likely involved in an actual plot rather than a joke of a plot.

    To make sure you understand just how dastardly and evil the Iranian plotters here are, the DOJ in its complaint highlighted that the used-car-salesman-Terrorist-Mastermind said that he preferred that nobody else be killed when the Saudi Ambassador was assassinated, but if it were absolutely necessary, he could accept some unintended deaths! Here’s how the NYT summarizes that:

    The complaint quotes Mr. Arbabsiar as making conflicting statements about the possibility of bystander deaths; at one point he is said to say that killing the ambassador alone would be preferable, but on another occasion he said it would be “no big deal” if many others at the restaurant — possibly including United States senators — died in any bombing.

    What kind of monster thinks that way, we are supposed to ponder. Behold the warped mind of the Terrorist! He’s actually willing to accept that others die besides his intended targeted! Is that not the mentality that drives U.S. behavior in multiple countries around the world every day? The U.S. flattened an entire civilian apartment building in Baghdad with a 2,000-pound bomb when it thought Saddam Hussein was there (he wasn’t — oops — but lots of innocent people were).

    NATO repeatedly bombed structures in Tripoli where it thought (mistakenly) Moammar Gadaffi was located, in the process almost certainly killing large numbers of unintended targets. The U.S. just killed one of its own citizens that it insists (not very credibly) it did not intend to kill in order to eradicate the life of Anwar Awlaki, and killed dozens of innocent people when it previously tried to kill Awlaki with cluster bombs.

    The U.S. is the living, breathing symbol of this “collateral damage” rationale. It’s what drives all the multi-nation American wars and occupations and drone campaigns and assassinations that continuously pile up the corpses of innocent people. But we’re all going to gather in righteous disgust at the idea that this monstrous International Terrorist would be willing to incur some unintended civilian deaths in order to assassinate an official of the peaceful, freedom-loving Saudi regime.

    Read the article HERE.

  19. Edward Taylor permalink
    October 14, 2011 8:57 AM

    presumably the CIA looks at George Romero’s “Night of the Living Dead” and thinks it’s a documentary about fundamentalism.

  20. October 14, 2011 1:34 PM

    My underpants just exploded. I can’t decide if it’s that bastard I’madinnerjacket or if, y’know, I’m just gassy…fuck it: let’s bomb the hankie-heads, just in case.

    • October 14, 2011 1:39 PM

      Dude, let’s bomb that asshole Obama instead. Let’s face it, if he really believes in this bullshit ‘plot’, he’s a moron; if he’s just faking it, he’s a scumbag. Either way, he’s a prick.

  21. October 14, 2011 1:44 PM

    You guys are both misguided: let’s bomb Switzerland. I never liked those cheese-making jerks. They make these clocks, when the hour strikes, these guys pop out of the clock and beat each other over the head. Jesus…what the fuck is that all about? Those fuckers are sick, man. Best get rid of the Nazi gold-hoarding scumbags. We’ll call it ‘collateral damage’.

  22. Pig Ignorant permalink
    October 14, 2011 1:48 PM

    I’ve just watched “Malclm in the Middle” .

    I enjoyed it which is reason enough to invade Iran.

  23. Local pedantic hothead permalink
    October 14, 2011 1:52 PM

    I’ve just noticed the mispelling of Malcolm in one of the previous comments. Let’s invade someone.

  24. October 14, 2011 3:43 PM

    Let’s bomb Malcolm…or you…yeah…you seem like some kind of pinko, with your inflatable pig and your giant head and your artsy-fartsy…sghwretyuem…sorry, lost it there…point is, you’re ripe for a drone attack…I mean, you must have been planning something…shifty northern cunt that you are.

  25. the Ramsbottom Popular Front. permalink
    October 14, 2011 3:48 PM

    I was planning to go to the shops.

    But bring it on tvzombie.

    You may bomb us but our secret network of underground cells will ensure that something will something-something. Not to mention something.

    • October 14, 2011 4:22 PM

      See? I fucking knew it…prepare to die, black-pudding fondling hater of our freedoms…

  26. Nowt as Queer as Folk permalink
    October 14, 2011 4:45 PM

    If it’s not too late – Belgium! Help!

  27. October 14, 2011 4:53 PM

    Dr. Fox has resigned to spend more time with his Werrity…erm, money…no, I mean, his family AKA Dr. Beard…OK, he wants to spend more time on his upcoming biography of Judy Garland…OK?

  28. October 14, 2011 6:48 PM

    Militants trained and financed by Iran’s Quds Force attacked United States forces in Iraq on Wednesday, American officials said, continuing a role they have played in recent years in a proxy war between the United States and Iran.

    The attack came a day after the Obama administration announced that it had foiled an alleged plot by the Iranian group to assassinate Saudi Arabia’s ambassador to the United States and to bomb Saudi and Israeli embassies. —The NYT, today

    Purely coincidental, of course, and nothing at all to do with Obama (who’s turned out to be infinitely worse than even I, as sceptical a cuss as ever bit a kitten, imagined) and his drumbeat for war (AKA ensuring the mouth-breathers vote for him).

  29. October 14, 2011 8:56 PM

    That Dr. Fox resignation letter in full:

    Dear David,

    As you know I have always placed the highest importance on getting away with it. Until very recently I was able to maintain the outward appearance of integrity, but I must now accept that has changed and I have been forced to think again. It is regrettable in the extreme that the press have misused the freedoms we have allowed them to bring about this unwelcome interruption to my enrichment.

    I have always believed that the essence of a free society requires personal interests to be put first. In this spirit I have now decided to leave your government so that I can earn the sums of money that a man of my outstanding abilities deserves.

    I am proud to leave behind a country with aircraft carriers sans aircraft to fly from them. My associates will call upon you shortly with further exiting (and profitable!) proposals in the defence and health sectors.

    To dispel any doubt, may I once again confirm that my close relationship with Mr Werritty was not transactionally dependent on the meaningfulness of this sentence.



    c/o Fox Werrity Security Solutions Inc.
    Sri Lanka

  30. October 14, 2011 10:19 PM

    I have never harboured or given succour to any fox; as a mere chicken I am only fox fodder. My coop, is of course, de luxe Shangri La la la stylie… ad lib to fade. Russet pubes in teeth do not a fox fellator make.

  31. October 14, 2011 10:19 PM

    Shit, why am I there??? Foiled… in vino fuckitas

  32. October 14, 2011 10:30 PM

    meanwhile (go to 15:00 and 17:00)

  33. October 14, 2011 11:25 PM

    Why the Fox-Werrity travelling cesspool is more serious than just a pair of probable closet-queens lining their pockets:

    “The Cabinet Office (inquiry; probably to be kicked into the long-grass now that Fox has resigned-Ed.) will only look for direct evidence of a little grubby money-making for introductions to Fox. But what is actually happening is much worse and much more serious. Who paid for Werritty’s eighteen overseas trips with Liam Fox and his stays in exclusive hotels in the World’s most expensive destinations? What does he live on?

    The answer is that Werritty is paid by representatives of far right US and Israeli sources to influence the British defence secretary. It has been discussed within the MOD whether Werritty is being – knowingly or otherwise – run as an agent of influence by the CIA or Mossad. That is why the chiefs of the armed forces are so concerned, and why there is today much gagging at the stitch up within the Cabinet Office.

    That the British Defence Minister holds frequent unrecorded meetings in the Ministry and abroad with somebody promoting the interests of foreign powers is much, much worse than a little cash-grubbing. That the person representing the foreign powers is actually present, apparently to all as a ministerial adviser, at meetings of Fox with important representatives of foreign nations is simply appalling.

    A mainstream media source has finally plucked up the courage to publish the widespread concern among MOD, Cabinet Office and FCO officials and military that the Werritty operation was linked to, and perhaps controlled by, Mossad – something which agitated officials have been desperately signaling for some days.

    ‘Officials expressed concern that Fox and Werritty might even have been in freelance discussions with Israeli intelligence agencies’ write Patrick Wintour and Richard Norton-Taylor in the Guardian.

    As I have been explaining, the real issue here is a British defence secretary who had a parallel advice structure designed expressly to serve the interests of another state and linked to that state’s security services. That is not just a sacking offence, it is treasonable.”


    “It seems to me the questions now starting to be asked about the connection to Israel and possibly to Mossad might well have had a major effect on Fox’s sudden throwing in of the towel. If he did not believe that resigning would stop some further investigation, he might as well have toughed it out over the weekend; nobody has ever accused Fox of being thin-skinned”. —Craig Murray

  34. October 14, 2011 11:40 PM

    You have to love James Kirkup in the Telegraph for his masterly (and repeated) use of the word ‘coincidence’…and this is a paper that supports the Tories:

    Liam Fox and Adam Werritty: an unlikely friendship

    To many, it always appeared an unlikely friendship. When Liam Fox met Adam Werritty, one was a middle-aged politician well-established in public life and the other a student just starting out in adult life.

    Yet after a meeting at the beginning of the last decade at Edinburgh University — Dr Fox was a guest speaker at a student society — the two men defied their 16-year age gap to form a friendship that persists to this day.

    Mr Werritty, from Fife, left university with a 2:2 in public policy and, like many young graduates, made for London to seek its opportunities. Yet, unlike many graduates beginning a career, he had an influential friend to help him along the way.

    Dr Fox was so keen to help his friend that in 2002, he let him live in his London flat. The mortgage on the property, near London Bridge, was being paid by the taxpayer as part of Dr Fox’s parliamentary expenses.

    Dr Fox has said he allowed his friend to “use the spare room” for “a number of months” in 2002 and 2003. Mr Werritty named the property as his home address when he registered his own business. The 34 year-old is listed at Companies House as the director or secretary of seven different companies.

    His first business interest was health care, and he registered both UK Health Group Ltd — in which Dr Fox once owned shares — and UK Health Supply Services Ltd. By coincidence, Dr Fox was the Conservative shadow health secretary between 1999 and 2003, writing his party’s health policies and influencing national debate.
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    Mr Werritty moved out of the flat in 2003, but the two men remained close. So close that when Dr Fox married in 2005, it was Mr Werritty who acted as best man. As Dr Fox settled into married life, Mr Werritty’s business empire grew. One of the companies he subsequently registered was Security Futures, a defence consultancy. By another coincidence, Dr Fox in 2005 became his party’s defence spokesman.

    It was in that role that Dr Fox’s friendship with Mr Werritty appeared to spill over into his professional life as a leading politician. In 2007, Mr Werritty travelled with Dr Fox to Dubai and to a meeting at the Gulf Research Centre, a regional security think-tank.

    In 2009, the pair both attended the Herzliya Conference in Israel, where leading politicians, military leaders, intelligence officials and business executives meet. The programme for the meeting lists Mr Werritty as an “adviser” in Dr Fox’s office. Mr Werritty referred to his post on business cards bearing Parliament’s portcullis logo.

    During the same period, the men made at least two trips to Sri Lanka. Dr Fox was once involved in the peace process over the country’s civil war, which came to a brutal end in 2009, and retains a close interest in its affairs.

    Despite the close personal and professional association between the two men, upon becoming Defence Secretary Dr Fox did not appoint Mr Werritty as his special adviser, a post that would have brought him into the Whitehall machine with a seat at the minister’s right hand.

    Instead, Mr Werritty continued to make his own way in the world. Whether his friend continued to help him do so will now determine Dr Fox’s fate.

    Some details of their friendship remain unclear, but it is known that Mr Werritty visited the Ministry of Defence’s secure Whitehall headquarters 14 times in 16 months. He has also visited the minister’s official residence in Admiralty Arch by Trafalgar Square.

    Still, Dr Fox has insisted that their friendship has no official dimension. “Mr Werritty is not an employee of the MoD and has, therefore, not travelled with me on any official overseas visits,” he told MPs last month.

    As Defence Secretary, Dr Fox makes many such visits. Last June he visited British troops in Afghanistan, a trip that typically involves changing from a civilian flight to a military one in the Gulf. On the return leg of the journey, Dr Fox was in Dubai. There, in the Shangri-La hotel, he met Harvey Boulter, the millionaire head of Porton Capital, an investment company that has business dealings with the MoD.

    Dr Fox was travelling with members of his civil service staff, but no officials were present, so no record of the conversation was kept. Nor was the June 18 meeting listed in the MoD’s log of “ministers’ meetings with external organisations,” which is required under the Ministerial Code.

    Dr Fox on Saturday said the meeting was a chance encounter. Mr Boulter and his associates simply “happened to be sitting at a nearby table at a restaurant,” he said. The meeting might have remained secret, but for papers filed in a New York court. Then on June 20, 3M, the American firm best known for making Post-It notes, sued Porton and Mr Boulter, accusing them of trying to extort $30 million to settle an ongoing contract dispute between the two firms.

    Among the papers was an email said to have been written by Mr Boulter to Sir George Buckley, the British chief executive of 3M. In the email, dated June 18, Mr Boulter said that “this morning in Dubai, I had 45 minutes with Dr Liam Fox, the British Defence Minister, on our current favourite topic”.

    According to 3M’s lawsuit, Mr Boulter suggested that as a result of his meeting with Dr Fox, the formal investiture for Sir George’s knighthood could be affected. He wrote: “As a result of my meeting today you ought to understand that David Cameron’s Cabinet might very shortly be discussing the rather embarrassing situation of George’s knighthood. It was discussed today.”

    Dr Fox disputes that suggestion and Mr Boulter has subsequently accepted that the knighthood was not discussed.

    Dr Fox’s aides say he met Mr Boulter to discuss communications encryption technology, which might have military value to Britain. The 3M dispute was raised “in passing”, they say, and Dr Fox gave Mr Boulter no assurances of aid.

    Dr Fox’s own account of the meeting has been challenged by Mr Boulter and by emails from Mr Werritty.

    Mr Werritty and Mr Boulter first met in Dubai in April, where they discussed the 3M dispute. Mr Boulter says he was introduced to Mr Werritty by Tetra, a London lobbying firm, which suggested him as a person of influence at the MoD.

    Why Tetra, which also works for the Dubai government, thought this is unclear. An official government list of special advisers is publicly available and a quick glance would confirm Mr Werritty’s name does not appear.

    By coincidence, Mr Werritty then found himself in Dubai in the days before Dr Fox’s arrival. Mr Boulter says he had dinner with Mr Werritty on either 15 or 16 June; he says the younger man offered to arrange a meeting with the minister. On 16 June, Mr Boulter emailed Mr Werritty to invite him and Dr Fox to his house. The next day, Mr Werritty suggested the hotel instead.

    The fact that Mr Werritty appears to have arranged the Dubai meeting in advance has raised questions about Dr Fox’s assertion that it was a chance encounter. Precisely what, if anything, the minister knew about his friend’s actions will be crucial to a hasty Whitehall inquiry due to report back to the Prime Minister today.

    Also under the microscope are Dr Fox’s ongoing links to Sri Lanka. His ministerial brief gives him no obvious responsibilities in the country, but that has not stopped him paying a close interest. When Mahinda Rajapaksa, the Sri Lankan president, came to London last December, he met Dr Fox at the Dorchester Hotel. A video of the meeting shows Mr Werritty was there too, clasping the president’s hand. Again, Dr Fox’s Whitehall officials were absent.

    Mr Rajapaksa’s visit led to angry protests from British Tamils, who accuse his regime of brutality. The controversy did not deter Dr Fox. He scheduled a “private” visit to the island, where on Dec 20 he was to have meeting with leading politicians and give a speech.

    That plan caused anger in the Foreign and Commonwealth Office which led to the trip being called off days before Dr Fox was due to arrive.

    Ordinarily, the visit of a Cabinet minister would be arranged by British diplomats. Yet in this case, it appears that a key figure in the affair was Mr Werritty who, by another one of those coincidences, flew into Colombo a few days before Dr Fox’s scheduled arrival.

    When the FCO forced Dr Fox to call off his visit, it was Mr Werritty who broke the news to Sri Lankan politicians.

    In July this year, Dr Fox finally made his trip to Sri Lanka to meet politicians. He also gave a speech about Lakshman Kadirgamar, the former Sri Lankan foreign minister, warmly recalling their first covert contacts as peace negotiators. “I remember clandestine meetings in hotels,” Dr Fox recalled. “There was widespread suspicion in London.” And in the audience was Adam Werritty.

  35. Phil Hammond permalink
    October 15, 2011 12:02 AM

    Every cloud…

  36. mishari permalink*
    October 15, 2011 12:24 AM

    Hey, Phil…you gave that prick Lansley a right savaging on Question Time. Well done…

    Meanwhile, in the world of fine dining:

    Drunk Florida Man Tries to Use Taco as ID After His Car Catches Fire

    Tacos are not recognized as legal forms of identification in the state of Florida. Matthew Falkner found out the hard way after he passed out drunk in the drive-thru of a Jensen Beach Taco Bell and his car caught fire.

    The Taco Bell manager had to call police because Falkner was out cold at the pick-up window and holding up customers behind him.

    A deputy awoke Falkner and then asked for his ID. Falkner said no before reaching into his bag and presenting the officer with a taco. Another deputy clarified they were asking for an ID, not a taco. Falkner chuckled and began eating the taco.

    Then deputies noticed Falkner had fallen asleep with his foot on the accelerator while his truck was in park. The engine had caught fire, and fire extinguishers were used to put it out. —

  37. Fags 4 Hire permalink
    October 15, 2011 6:08 AM

    I don’t follow #Werrity-Fox. The only note I made, from when he first appeared as a shadow in the Blair years, was not being able to recall any minister of England being called Liam. The tories, some of them, have fallen at their first hurdle as the first five hundred days draw to a close.

    I did within the last day have a sudden flash of what I thought some reality in this situation was; when it crossed my mind they might be boyfriends, freebooting with all the luck and subtlety of Ron Davies cruising Clapham Common, carrying on in that most recent of political traditions instigated by NewLab Baron minister without portofilo Mandy, a special advisor making massive arms deals, selling himself as a wealthy nation state, to whoever pays for the world within which Werrity and Fox operate, prior to falling on their swords. One an honourable married guy resigning, the other his unofficial manfriend outed by their lust for fine dining, VIP jaunts, tete a tetes with Mossad and Arab potentates, two chic, middle-aged, overweight Englishmen getting no more pork; more tattered dicks than political dictators behind the scenes, forever wound by their love for one another, by a wheel of life spinning its redtop gaze, their relationship blazing around the world, their comedic execution when the fuss dies down and the world continues turning, is laughed at.

    The Salon satire is one of the best I’ve ever read. Greenwald’s exposition is so on the nail, it would take an act of supreme imagination to successfully counter. The logical nous in his performance is this adminstrations “roasted’ a la Colbert moment.

    Satire all round unmasking powerful illusions long-held and that the collective human consciousness assimilated as ‘reality’, until very recently.

    Being interested in ghosts, a dreamer and make-believer of innocence with guile, the fiction-truth shadow hidden from sight; until the internet age of unlimited, unfiltered information only few knew, in a handful of key facts that make knowledge truth pointing sleight of hand at a sun, the world looking at a finger, the secret-message bringers’ message minimised by the wrong-doing side – whose secrets they sing – in the inflation of their rhetoric reaching unbelievable heoghts of transparent desperateness.

    A comedy of hapless lies wound perfectly by intelligent time, tide and fiction, humanity’s denoument’s about to begin, one would think, listening to the billionaire’s yes men and women, who fix the rich’s truth to happen.

    The reality of a few in their world is all of our world, it appears, according to the AA MSM reporting on the anglo-american fallen, not on a sword but rattle clicking in space where lies can live and grow into a mass-consciousness truth, over time, in the continual repetitive utterance of lies expanding in increments carefully calibrated, aimed at the culture, country and cradle of ancient Eurasian civilisation.

    Outlandishly the war on terror attains a point, period, phase, apex and trigger-line that cannot be crossed without great sacrifice of life and sovereign societal infrastructure engineered to aquiring the illegal property only a just and few nuclear powers of vengeful right idiots can possess; for the safety of everyone’s world and the God-America declares is true.

    Persia will regeret having to learn in a war with Uncle Sam, that there is no lie. It must fight. The might and moral imperative of America demands thousands of civilian casualties must regrettably die for the one correct cause the latest electioneering action man dreams up, in the silence of his room on capitol hill looking out upon the world from a politcal grove, he-man cliche strategically aware poetry in the eye of those more rendered to hate, shocks to the state a confused idiotic race mistaking their existential truth; for the look on our ignorant, indignant leaders face. As they look to their fate, two fat boyfriends and a wife to stand by both, cobble some crap together for the red-top rags to ingest, spin back till they are no longer news, but a byword outed in the moves their reality drew to make wisdom with.

    I stumbled across this the other night; an event in Iceland this March/April, in which David Leigh, Nick Davies and an Icelandic wikileaks spokesman, giving their various opinions and positons on what went on between the Guardian and Assange. Leigh comes across as he has done throughout, unable to conceal a moral compromise with himself we detect was made during his ‘version’ of events. What grabbed me was Nock Davies’s performance, which was grave, cogent, focussed and unwavering in its articulation of the injustice visited upon Bradley Manning.

    Whereas Leigh can’t perform in anything but a defenisve rhetoric focussed on the act of attacking Assange’s ‘rock star’ status, Davies was an eye opener because he spoke up with clarity and gravity about the travesty of Manning’s position. He says that one of the oldest propoganda tricks is to point at the bringer of big news, act as though the ‘secret’ information is so important, that the person leaking it must be a terrorist, instead of someone driven to do so by transparently moral motives.

    He formulates the evidence, the very words in the chat log when he wrote of how the world needed to be aware of the mass civilian killings the government lie about. Davies paints and open and shit case for Manning being driven to hand over classified information, not for money, not delivering it to an enemy in the theatre of this war on terror, a genuine political prisoner, phoney espionage charges, held incommunicado. In sort, tortured for his moral beliefs, that most reasonable people armed with the relevent information, recognise as that.

  38. Edward Taylor permalink
    October 15, 2011 8:55 AM

    Oliver Letwin has now stepped forward as the latest idiot politician to show no idea about how to give the public confidence in what you are doing. What are these people actually good at?

  39. mishari permalink*
    October 15, 2011 9:42 AM

    “What are these people actually good at?” Spending a lifetime sucking on the public teat while decrying people who depend on, erm…the public teat. The bouffant-haired Letwin is Bertie Wooster minus the keen, forensic intelligence. Mind you, it could be worse: how? Read on…

    Republican presidential candidate Herman Cain has a solution for the immigration problem currently ‘plaguing’ the United States.

    Cain’s solution is as follows: build a moat along America’s southern border, (all 3,169 km of it), fill it with alligators, and construct a 20-foot high electrified wall with barbed wire at the top.

    You think I’m kidding, right? I fucking wish…

    I’ll let The Herminator® speak for himself:

    • October 15, 2011 9:24 PM

      It’ll be a matter of keeping people *in* soon enough, so Mexico may appreciate that moat (Canada will need another solution since moats often freeze up there…).

  40. mishari permalink*
    October 15, 2011 10:45 AM

    Even The New York Times, which is hardly a hotbed of Trotskyite ‘permanent revolution’ is slating the CamaClegg Coalition of The Damned. In an editorial entitled: Britain’s Self-Inflicted Misery, it opines:

    For a year now, Britain’s economy has been stuck in a vicious cycle of low growth, high unemployment and fiscal austerity. But unlike Greece, which has been forced into induced recession by misguided European Union creditors, Britain has inflicted this harmful quack cure on itself.

    Austerity was a deliberate ideological choice by Prime Minister David Cameron’s ruling coalition of Conservatives and Liberal Democrats, elected 17 months ago. It has failed and can be expected to keep failing. But neither party is yet prepared to acknowledge that reality and change course.

    Austerity is a political ideology masquerading as an economic policy. It rests on a myth, impervious to facts, that portrays all government spending as wasteful and harmful, and unnecessary to the recovery. The real world is a lot more complicated. America has no need to repeat Mr. Cameron’s failed experiment. —The NYT, today

  41. Edward Taylor permalink
    October 15, 2011 10:46 AM

    I’ve kept myself ignorant of the latest Republican hopefuls in the US.

    Judging by that clip that decision was one of the more intelligent ones I’ve made this year.

  42. mishari permalink*
    October 15, 2011 10:56 AM

    Priceless, ain’t he? And this bozo is the new Tea Bagger’s favourite.

    And even if you could assemble 3000 km of alligators (say 2 metres per alligator = 1.5 million alligators, although I guess you’d get a volume discount), according to alligator go-to-guy Frank Mazzotti of the University of Florida, the cost of keeping the alligators alive in that climate “would be astronomical.”

    If there turned out to be a spot along the border where the alligators were comfortable, Mazzotti said, they could escape, multiply and create “all sorts of economic problems.”

    Yeah…like eating cartel drug-smugglers: now that really would crash the US economy.

  43. Edward Taylor permalink
    October 15, 2011 11:15 AM

    Do alligators even eat people?

    I would have thought Herman would be in need of crocodiles ( not resident in either American continent ) so the savings to the US economy would be offset by the cost of importing crocodiles from Africa, Asia or Australia where the real mean, large salt-water ones live.

    He may be planning to starve the alligators in order to encourage them to eat Mexicans so he’ll be building walls around both sides of the canals low enough to prevent rodents burrowing under them and high enough to prevent them climbing over. How he’ll stop them eating egrets is a problem I’m working on now.

    Even in these two paragraphs I have given the situation more thought than Herman.

  44. mishari permalink*
    October 15, 2011 11:28 AM

    Herman will be in touch, Ed: you have a glittering (albeit brief) career ahead of you as ‘advisor to The Herminator®‘. I expect we’ll be seeing a lot of you on Fox News, railing against the iniquities of the Communist Obama regime. I hope you like Freedom Fries…

    Condolences to our friend Ned, BTW. France 9 – Wales 8…they made a good come-back and almost clinched it 4 minutes from time. Oh, well…France won’t get far against NZ or Australia.

  45. Edward Taylor permalink
    October 15, 2011 12:06 PM

    My advice would be to wall Herman Cain up and surround the wall with 10 locally sourced scorpions. I’d go on Fox to say that.

    When I was in London last week I was eating in a caff which had a US news channel on the TV. The item was about the occupation of Wall Street and the station brought in a shock-jock who was billed as “an expert.”

    An expert in what wasn’t clear – shouting over other people was the only expertise I could see on display. It’s unlikely but he might have been talking sense – he was shouting so much you couldn’t hear anything that anyone said over the four minutes or so that the piece ran.

  46. Edward Taylor permalink
    October 15, 2011 5:32 PM

  47. mishari permalink*
    October 15, 2011 5:39 PM

    Ed Taylor Airlines: The Early Years:

  48. mishari permalink*
    October 15, 2011 6:14 PM

    Frustrated by repeated mechanical failures, Ed Taylor abandoned the nascent airline industry and opened a dating agency in Frome:

    • Edward Taylor permalink
      October 16, 2011 9:58 AM

      Meanwhile abstinence from alcohol and smoking causes our blog-host to slightly over-react

    • mishari permalink*
      October 16, 2011 10:40 AM

      Ed, a quick tip: don’t bother using the ’embed or share’ link that youtube provides, it never works. Just copy the link from your browser’s address bar, i.e. what I do when I re-post your links.

    • Edward Taylor permalink
      October 16, 2011 11:29 AM

      Thanks for the tip. Also when you share the bastards seem to stick an advert in front of the clip.

    • mishari permalink*
      October 16, 2011 12:07 PM

      Sadly for the world of comedy, Ed Taylor’s career as a producer of rap videos was much-abbreviated:

    • Edward Taylor permalink
      October 16, 2011 12:18 PM

      It’s what you get when you work with people who can’t stand up straight.

  49. hic8ubique permalink
    October 15, 2011 6:34 PM

    I’ve got the heebie-jeebies from looking at pics of effulgent labia minora.
    I had no idea this is a normal variation of female anatomy.
    *cringe* cringe* kegel *kegel*
    I’m in St. Auggie territory now and there’s no unknowing of it.

    We seem to be having an outbreak of log-in boxes as well?

  50. mishari permalink*
    October 15, 2011 7:01 PM

    The log-ins were just me (and Ed) messing around. Why and where are you looking at these unsettling pix? Is it that article on vaginal cosmetic surgery in The Graun? I read the article (interesting and a subject that I’d never known anything about and…well…all a bit odd) but saw no pix.

    • hic8ubique permalink
      October 15, 2011 7:13 PM

      There were links in the article and comments…
      Dr Alinsod’s website, case studies:

      and a poster linked this:

      The male posters seem unfazed by this variety.

      When you joked about VPL standing for ‘very pretty labia’ little did I imagine…

  51. mishari permalink*
    October 15, 2011 8:37 PM

    Little did either of us imagine, my dear. Meanwhile, let us adjourn to a more rarefied stratum; somewhere where the quality of debate is satisfyingly lofty:

    Ur shitty blog is all about hating rick perry the only decent candidate runing for prez this year.U fuckin homos think ur all so fucking smart with ur bullshit but fact is romney is a faggot like all u fags and Rick perry is a real american and a real christian UNLIKE UR HOMO PAL ROMNEY HELLO MORMON FAGGOTS!!!! Go suck some cock in ur mormon shithole u fag and stay ther! Where is mormons listed as “christian” please provide som e proof? Prez has to be christian so romney cant be fucking prez which is a fact. go spend ur homo-dollars on some pot and smoke it u fuckin hippy asshole! gues whos going to prison when perry is prez? U can sare a cell with romney and u can b his prison wife. dont drop the soap u fag!

    a devout Christian and Rick Perry supporter attempts to reason with the misguided lefties over at Those Republicans…staying classy.

  52. mishari permalink*
    October 15, 2011 8:43 PM

    A constitutional scholar takes issue with the editorial policies at






    Honestly, hic…it would set my mind at ease some if you’d move to Canada.

  53. Muso permalink
    October 15, 2011 9:31 PM

    I can remember a time when people who used SHIFT LOCK were automatically forbidden a gun license.

  54. mishari permalink*
    October 15, 2011 9:37 PM

    Another Christian (boy, they’re everywhere) challenges the veracity of Darwin’s Theory of Evolution as espoused by

    I see that your filth-blog is hysterically promoting the radical communist Jim Matheson for Senate? Are you stupid? High taxes, anti-GOD, gun-control loving Matheson couldn’t Get eleceted president of CUba let alone to the US Senate!

    The fact is that Orrin hatch is a leftist, but he is well liked and at least he believes in GOD! Matheson is an unrepentant atheist though and he would burn all chruches, Bibles, crosses etc. if he had the power! Utah will never elect a militant atheist and Matheson would be better of in Berkeley or San fransisco with his homosexual/communist supporters! Matheson would force everyone to worship Darwin and he would make “evolutionism” the only subject taught in oru schools. Let me just tell you something Mr. Monkeyboy! My parents were human beings created by GOD in HIS image and their parents were human beings created by GOD in HIS image and so on! None of my forefathers was a monkey, giraffe, fish, turtle or whatever insanity you evolutionists teach! LEt me ask you and Comrade Matheson something: If man “evolutioned” from monkeys, then why are there people in places where there are no monkeys? Like, lets say USA, australia, Japan, France (Communist country so there should be plenty of “evolution” there!) and Sweden? Where did your magic evolution-humans come from? Ants? Only idiot morons like you and Marxist-Matheson would believe something so stupid! And Idiot morons should not be in the US senate! Case closed. And either you admit that humans DI NOT come from monkeys or you must admit that there are no humans in FRance or USA! Checkmate, IDIOT!

    After a forensic demolition like that, I wouldn’t let this Darwin guy walk my dog.

    A Republican theorist proves that Obama is a Nazi…but you already knew that:

    History lesson

    Its clear that Obama is a nazi. Libtards don’t want to believe this because they are all bout the personality cult. So, lets review some historical FACTS and compare Hitler and Obama:

    1. Both Obama and Hitler massively raised taxes.
    2. Both Obama and Hitler hated jews and liked muslims.
    3. Both Obama and Hitler increased government spending via “stimulus” programs, like building roads.
    4. Both Obama and Hitler nationalized the automobile industry (Hitler with WolksWagen, Obama with GM and Chrysler)
    5. Both Obama and Hitler attacked Africa.
    6. Both Obama and Hitler were close allies of Japan.
    7. Both Obama and Hitler ignored tried to silence dissent (Hitler with Gestapo, Obama with his attempts to shut down FoxNews and Rush Limbaugh)
    8. Both Obama and Hitler are environmentalist fanatics.
    9. Both Obama and Hitler were anti-smoking fanatics.
    10. Both Obama and Hitler are hostile to uncooperative Christians.
    11. Both Obama and Hitler have tried to circumvent national laws (Hitler when he made himself dictator, Obama when he attacked Libya without permission and now that he tries to illegally raise the debt ceiling without congressional approval)
    12. Both Obama and Hitler love propaganda.
    13. Neitjer Obama nor Hitler were actually born in the country they took over (Obama Kenya, Hitler Austria)
    14. Both Obama and Hitler endangered their countries because they wanted to appease rather than attack their enemies (Hitler with USA, UK and Soviet Union, Obama with Iran, Venezuela, North Korea and Islam)
    15. Both Obama and Hitler are obsessed with race.
    16. Both Obama and Hitler have a personality cult.
    17. Both Obama and Hitler are crappy leaders who make a shitload of speeches.
    18. Both Obama and Hitler relied on technical gimmicks when fighting wars (Hitler with U-boats and V-rockets, Obama with his predator-drones).
    19. Both Obama and Hitler are fans of the surveillance state.
    20. Both Obama and Hitler have corrupted the justice system by stacking the courts with leftist activist judges.

    so that’s 20/20 or 100% -> Obama = Hitler

    Basically liberalism id just a sanitized version of nazism. Makes you think

    …indeed it does. A final poster makes a heartfelt plea for us to reason together:





    • Edward Taylor permalink
      October 16, 2011 12:10 AM

      21. Obama changed his surname so it wouldn’t have any of the same letters in it as Hitler.

      22. You never see Obama and Hitler in the same room together.

      23. Obama’s press officer is also called Himmler

      24. Obama invaded Poland

      25. Time for bed Mr. Taylor

      26. Okay

  55. mishari permalink*
    October 15, 2011 10:25 PM

    This made me laugh:

    Fox accidentally made best friend head of RAF

    LIAM Fox has apologised for putting his best friend in charge of the Royal Air Force.

    The defence secretary has admitted he should have sought advice from officials before promoting Adam Werritty from Former Flatmate to Air Chief Marshall.

    Dr Fox said: “Out of loyalty to a friend I put him in charge of almost 1,000 aircraft and 75,000 personnel and told him he could do whatever he felt like. I now realise that was wrong.”

    It has been revealed that Werritty immediately tried to sell the air force to Mexico and use the money to buy a houseboat, but the deal fell through because all the RAF instructions are in English.

    Werritty then decided to rent the air force to Tesco. It is not clear what Tesco plan to do with it, though experts said it should be fairly obvious.

    And it has also emerged that Fox used a very large diplomatic bag to transport Werritty whenever he was on official business. It is understood the bag would be taken straight to Fox’s hotel room to prevent unnecessary delays at customs.

    In an earlier statement Fox implied the furore has been created by bitter and resentful RAF officers who think Mr Werrity is not qualified.

    He added: “Adam has been on a plane at least seven times and he looks really good in a leather flying helmet. Also, we used to watch Top Gun pretty much every night.”

    The move comes as newspapers compete to uncover the last, incredibly flimsy accusation that will finally get Fox the sack. The Daily Telegraph has revealed how Fox was only the 14,000th MP to put a friend on the parliamentary payroll, while the Guardian has uncovered the existence of something called ‘lobbying’.

    Meanwhile, sources close to Fox say he resents the now widespread implication that he and Mr Werritty are more than friends while reminding everyone about the rumours the defence secretary totally did it with Natalie Imbruglia once.

    A source added: “And let’s not forget that Adam was best man at Liam’s wedding to Dr Jesmé Beard.


  56. Fags 4 Hire permalink
    October 16, 2011 2:17 AM

  57. mishari permalink*
    October 16, 2011 11:57 AM

    Campaign finance reports underscore a chill between President Obama and the financial industry. — The NYT, today

    It would make a cat laugh: Obama spends his entire tenure crawling to Wall St (who, contrary to the ‘millions of donors funded Obama’-myth, were the main financiers of his Presidential campaign), appointing the banker-scumbags to his administration and just generally being Birmingham Brown to Wall St.’s Charlie Chan…and the fucker’s are still ungrateful.

    If Uncle Tom Obama were half the man Teddy Roosevelt was, most of these Wall St. scum would be behind bars now.

  58. mishari permalink*
    October 16, 2011 3:53 PM

    David Cameron shifted Philip Hammond to take charge at the Ministry of Defence, while Justine Greening replaced him at Transport.

    According to the Sunday Telegraph, the reshuffle was so hastily conducted that Mr Cameron contacted his ministers from a train platform surrounded by morris dancers. — The Indy, today

    …and HERE is the man himself and the morris dancers. He might as well appoint the bloody morris dancers to the cabinet: they couldn’t be any worse than the lot we’ve got.

  59. henrylloydmoon permalink
    October 17, 2011 8:46 PM

    Thanks for your support, guys. Though being termed tedious by Penelope Shuttle may even have advanced my quest for the Laureateship…

  60. anactualgoluptiousgirl permalink
    October 17, 2011 8:58 PM

    Perhaps you will consider me for the post of goluptious amanuensis if you are successful?

  61. Edward Taylor permalink
    October 17, 2011 11:16 PM

    Poem of the Week flushes out yet another “real artist” with an inflated sense of their own worth. This week’s offering is a particularly good and cringeworthy example.

  62. hic8ubique permalink
    October 18, 2011 3:31 PM

    Poor Keats.

    How is your duodenal fortitude, Mishari? Does Inez tempt you with alkalysing broths? Have the antibiotics done the deed? I’ve been wondering how you fare.

    And whilst I’m being curious about that… how is your jaw? Did all that dental reconstruction work out well? If you don’t mind my asking, of course…

  63. mishari permalink*
    October 18, 2011 4:41 PM

    The ulcer’s gone or near enough, hic…not a twinge since I realised what it was and began treating it. The oral surgery continues at intervals (slow healing times because of required bone-growth etc etc…too boring to go into) but nothing unexpected, so it’s going well, thanks for asking.

    Meanwhile, Herman Cain gets with the program:

    • hic8ubique permalink
      October 18, 2011 5:13 PM

      Good. Thanks for the update.

  64. Captain Ned permalink
    October 19, 2011 3:37 PM

    What a magnificent speech from Dr. Fox. Such wisdom, such grace, such luminous humility and contrition. How right he is to castigate us for all the attention we devote to frivolous breaches of the ministerial code when THERE’S A WAR GOING ON, DON’T YOU KNOW? He has really gone up in my estimation.

    Another good and clever and admirable person is Dame Stella Rimington. Here is what she had to say after she and her fellow judges decided, after a great deal of doubtless very serious thought and intelligent discussion, to award the Booker Prize to that worthy man, Mr. Barnes:

    “It is a very readable book, if I may use that word, but readable not only once but twice and even three times,” she said. “It is incredibly concentrated. Crammed into this short space is a great deal of information which you don’t get out of a first read.”

    With that kind of insight, you can certainly see why she was asked to chair the judging panel. She makes The Sense of Ending seem like a very good book indeed. Too few authors these days pay enough heed to the importance of cramming a great deal of information into a short space; Dame Stella’s reminder is therefore to be welcomed. I think we at Politely Homicidal would do well to follow the examples of moral uprightness and critical analysis set by those adornments to public life, Dr. Liam Fox and Dame Stella Rimington.

    Good to see that our host is on the mend; I hope that Mowbray’s health improves with similar success.

    • hic8ubique permalink
      October 19, 2011 5:26 PM

      Hi CaptN~ crammed into this short space is a great deal of information …

    • Captain Ned permalink
      October 20, 2011 9:55 PM

      Impressive, hic… but can he do the same for The Iliad?

  65. Edward Taylor permalink
    October 19, 2011 4:15 PM

    It’s a classic right wing position isn’t it? Extol the benefits of freedom of expression until that freedom of expression goes against them.

    One wonders how long that “innappropriate” relationship would have continued had the press not stuck their noses in. If anything Fox should thank the media for giving him a moral compass.

  66. CommunityModerator permalink
    October 19, 2011 8:57 PM

    It’s a pity Bachman’s behind in the polls. She’d be the appropriate president for the world at this juncture. Fred Phelps and the teachings of Westboro Baptist Church could be rehabilitated back into the warm caring heart of American religious mainstream. The ‘God Hates Fags’ message will be rebranded into something totally different, reversing the polarity from vile and creepy, to accessible and chummy. God Hates Obamacare, perhaps, Kill Obamacare, or God Hates Obama’s Face: Rejoice, Satan Loves Romney, Huntsman Hates America, God Hates Caine, God Shoot US, Gingrich Hates God & America, Billy Graham Fag Enabler – Splitting Hell Wide Open, Rick Perry Terrorist, Fags Love Obamacare, Death To US.

    An Actual Poet… says

    You sit here and laugh, sneering from the sidelines, publishing pathetic, smart-alecky and arrant dross and grossness that reflects no understanding of anything other than how pointless are its anonymous poet manque protaganists, in a forum where only the voice that speaks undisguised embodies the idea of an authentic human actuality, adding to the store of sincerely expressed poetic text that comes outpouring and holds to the light of right and reason, multi-directional personality and wisdom. The poetry of our lives.

    The way you behave, childishness itself, you disgust me, you disgust the actual poet Pen Shuttleworth, are an embaressment, not only to yourself and everyone reading me, you, Carol, but the parental code. Go away, keep your cavaliar stupidity to yourself. Rodney is a very close presence in my life. Nial and he have been incredibly supportive since Faber dumped me, if you must know my name. I hate it that there isn’t a mechanism to filter out the hurtful dross and background air in here. It stinks LloydMoon.

    I think it’s disrespecful to the poet and poem to publish that, frankly, terrible effort of yours, written in personally offensive imitation of RL’s own brilliantly sincere and wittily poised poetic warmth, as much Camden as a Calgary poem, that can be read anywhere, is one of the reasons the St Andrews man is a very well respected actual among his peers, HenryLloydMoon.

    I remember meeting him for the first time, at the Ledbury poetry festival, introduced by his Bloodaxe publisher who’d agreed to publish him on the strength of only one poem he’d inadvertantly come across, written not to be read, as an exercise, that I Her Highness Lady Penge of Streatham herself, an actual poet in the one true realm, passed onto the appropriate authorities and thus launched Rodney’s glittering career as an echo in your voice, you bastards.

    I am slightly the worse for wear having been on a compositional bender of episodic proportion, and I just wanna have a giggle in actual fucking fact, with a hip personal profile in the capital of a planetry poetry business called English fucking Poetry mate, spending enough time to qualify as an actual resident, living in London. Fuck off.

    Hello. Your highness knows the true vibe in that big and dirty town where depressive hoards of individual millions get lonely bcuz we feel somewhat of a wanker, speaking in silly voices that contain our individual perfomance gene – dna – of poetry today, in the scene so rigid and straight, so utterly rigged by wonderfully warm and witty educators informing us by strop and depressant, information the import of, decoded, communicates this conspiracy at the very top of UK fucking poetry – one must simply drop fucking dead to get overtly acknowledged, wank buddies.

    How fucking dare you ungrateful members of my, my fucking public weight which is often negative, as an actual proved in a failed attempt at being heard by the head of Poem UK, PS, TS, Costa Forward. Do you know? Do you? Do you? Yes yes yes HenryLloydMoon anactualpoet, I know I am anactualpoet impersonator and you have the fucking gall to breathe and that offends anctual poet, my fucking bessie mate, mate.

    But fear not showfans, guess what a vile idiot and extremely disruptive heavy user of social network site number fucking yummy did, yesterday for a piss take that of an order that, should I decide to speak as anactualpoet, will make the time I disgracefully impersonated several anonymous people at the end of a weekend of being removed and ignored by the yummy carers, pale into innocence by comparison. Remeber how a capital i and dmall case L are identical? anctuaipoet’s my name, on the art pages, i elevated to a small l. If the mods don’t read here and I do appear there, write to me and have a giggle. The more responses there are, the more the conversation swings to an identity, username, person, wanker taking the piss, the more upset the authorites get, siliently fuming at you the troublemakers who, I tell you what, i can imagine being said, let’s pull the plug on the dickheads and just drop this long running series, like we did with the film community.

    Ha ha ha ha ha.

    Guest of Carol Chumsden

    Big top today dishes the anonymous lover, fans and supporters in Camberwell, Camden, Chingford, Chigwell and place, poise, warmth, crystal wit and intelligent fine dining conissuer; thrash poetry’s trashing objective alveolar noun, adjectival astonishment, vowel sounds cranked out in the exercise of loving Bloodaxe; a frond of salient pink, red and blue, thrusting upward ever deeper into minds on the edge of exercise itself; a liminal invisible bind and verve all sense as we know it rules adhering to trad ‘n’ po-mo – any mix of these eerily erotic earlier MacLow collections perfectly speaking what’s in front of us before and after time, telling deaf the world to c’mon, take comfort in a slow burning professorial gaze at madeup words welding instinctive spontaneity poised debating the precept, premise, pre-textual urge and desire to be actual.

    Thank you for this. It’s not a gimmick, but a privilige to read, Square One. Thanks for sharing how it came about. I thought it may have been written at speed as I read it.

    The spontaneous Monopoly conceit-challenge – mirrored in a form condusive to composing at speed, evident now you tell us – is not disimilar in conception to the ‘Gerry McNamara five-word poem’ more positive exercise that makes up the first half of Cork’s weekly open mic poetry night. O Bheal publish an annual best-of anthology made up of the best spontaneously composed poems written over the year.

    The first anthology in the series (precursing by several years Salt’s best-of) is made up of poems composed during the original weekly Write and Recite open mic poetry night at the height of the noughtie 04-07 Dublin period in boom-boom-boom. The rule is write a poem in which must appear five words, shouted out at random by the crowd, decided by mob democracy, written down by McNamara and by us the audience, who then have the length of a pint and cigarette break to come up with a text we choose to read aloud, or not. The winner’s decided by audience consent, and nominal prizes Gerry brought in week to week – often pens, occassionally sex toys, once, I recall, balloons… or were they envelopes and paper. Yes, yes. The one week I came close to winning. Second. I won a jotter, or was it a plastic saber?

    I know I took some prizes home on occassion, unwanted by the winners, wandering crowds through dark warmth, cold or coolness Dublin noughties heyday, swathes of bouyant people peforming as both audience and acts, early in the week at night; Westmoreland Bridge, O’Connel Plaza, Fleet Street, the old Irish Times, Mail, Sun, Star, Herald and Echo, echo, c’mon get the echo poetically here shuttling back and forth this week.

    A pleasure to read, and a privilege to own a weary fortysomething’s strap-on vibe narrrator Lumsden, noughtie London – sense the jousting dons in autumnal light facing away, maintaining breath, poised warm balanced behind a line ahead of time itself, sincerely brilliant blatherer playing in words that wrote the critical doctrine of this scene and, certainly a majority of poetry scenes about the place today, took their cue from. This forum is a testament to you. Long may you reign as the one actuality in it, curated by depressive, jealous hipsters fine dining & with it, in a consituency au fait with what dish of the day is

    Our prize today is watching riots on television.
    Transparently satirical, the witty, warm & shy

    few with contingencies and copies of it burnt,
    one five-word poem, detaining the attention
    of an audience’s sincerely expressed sense of play,
    spontaneous, effervesent, marvelous exhuberance

    handling of form. I am very impresed. It has a contemporary conceit to it that
    authenticates the obvious and in doing so, offers up some discussion about ourselves bespeaking mystery hidden in form’s firm sight, in lines laid yummily on the ultra-modern page, here-and-now curiously angled, asking more of us than we of it, perhaps. Yes, yes.

    Massive happy hugs c’mon yes you talented bardstick, Square One lying in this poem fictionally speaking actual faith in this the reversal of time, poetry and a space in which a follower can grow into a fan proper, effecting one to praise text by turning it into write-through oulipo and experimental poetique vie itself, authenticating who share twenty six letters, one square chord and the truth – with which to compete for what we receive from fate in poetry proposed on the rational premise, in which our language genders itself, s/he the langpo nightmare KO’ed by vie poetique bores-at-dawn in a face off: Henry Moon, Lloyd Paterson, Scunthorpe Rovers, Dame St. Doncaster’s ground, south of here a very poetic place, participatory perspicacious invention, extempore flyte and flail, Bloodaxe of the actual poet and collegiate fan, the grave impersonal and friendly best-of man, c’mon you diamond, you mentor you legend.

    Pen S

  67. mishari permalink*
    October 19, 2011 9:08 PM

    You’re in fine form, there, Des: top rant/stream-of-consciousness/manifesto/slag-fest…ah, your naughty ‘capital i for l transposition’…excellent.

    Meanwhile, in the exciting world of geography, Michelle Bachman, the dingbat’s dingbat, discovers Africa…sort of:

  68. anactualgoluptiousgirl permalink
    October 19, 2011 10:17 PM

    Des, you devil, getting our knickers in a twist. You sly old fox.

  69. Reine permalink
    October 19, 2011 10:23 PM

    Soz about that, not goluptious any more. Just plain old me.

  70. mishari permalink*
    October 19, 2011 11:49 PM

    Sorry…I can’t talk now. Mummy says I have to finish my 13-line, 3-stanza oulipo Lumsdenesque doggerel…10 lines to go….I’ll show you ‘tedious’, Moon: you don’t know the meaning of the word.

  71. henrylloydmoon permalink
    October 20, 2011 12:13 AM

    It’s a weekly constitutional, like walking the dog; every Monday I write verses about Gog and Magog, every few months there are ructions and a poet complains; every cloud has its lining, every bedsheet its stains.

  72. Rembrant Rewankered permalink
    October 20, 2011 12:22 AM

    Since Monday morning I’ve ranted thousands of words. Many of which, bastards at the Independent refuse to click in because the media studies intern behind the mouse there is, alas, a philistine and idiotic hater of English. It’s probably ‘the’ English s/he hates because s/he won’t admit the truth, refuse mod-approval, that s/he is a secret lover of cricket and loves England from the telly and in a love-hate relationship with it because, on one hand the English are responsible for being cunts, and on the other, nobody cares anyway because they are all dead now and the living English are apologising and there’s less and less reason to act superior to them in Ireland, as if we are less cooler and more fraudulently Irish than the wankers born here who are insufferable and dull tossers who pissed it away, and now the hangover’s kicking in instead of just admitting what uncool mugs and wankers they really were at the time they accepted and found pleasurable to believe, a coffee in Ripoff was worth two week’s shopping in Lidl

    This is the wierder shit most would have stopped reading by now, and is only the second time I have responded to Myers. The first was in a similar vein, more frothy and light, perhaps let through because it was a novelty, and premised on the conceit of me having fallen in love with Myers, and my namesake Kevin, through his writings, and want to ask, can I shag him, please?

    ‘Shagger’ Myers is the name he got known by as a young freelance Observer journalist in Belfast regularly riding different shags, and I want to ask Shagger, for one. Not straight out, more a playful spin spamming harmlessly Kevin Myers ranting about the seventies Dublin bedsit he called home. I didn’t read it all because you don’t need to read every Myers rant to get the picture. He isnt read in England much, the Indo is his home, and now and again, like us all (great ventriliquism last week Mish) is flawlessly original. He’s a great command of English and is English himself from Leicester and spent his early years living and working in Belfast. His memoir ‘behind the door’ (i think) is brilliant.


    Marvelous Myers, I know without reading how talented a read the flailing bedsit rant above is, darling flare flowering what is; ollamh text the ingrediant’s verbal verbosity, ascend dearest deepest seer into what beautiful birth you are; porcelain cold a disgusting seventies bedsit with its own poetry, wrought authentically from nothing but, perhaps, Dublin perhaps we love your mad meandering mind, darling sweetie.

    Well read luvvie pie, our plastic pukker mucker modus operandi is disgustingly excellent; grim-mate come to this Liberties basement overlooking a kerb, the feet hurrying to & fro, a thousand rented dreams, the kips, I forget their names – Back Lane Talbot Upper Frederick, Middle Abbey, Bolton and Capel – twentieth century bedsit funk that is us us us, keeping it real defenders of the one true faith, walking and talking, writing and reciting brothers-in-bore doing the island a very big favor being ourselves, two English, one you Kevin, the other Kevin me – and you. C’mon & pray with English wannabes, c’mon hand on heart, stand proud English, borrow from scripture your one true soul and immovable heart filled with deep and unshakeable affection that’s the place called home in your head, two English men – me a donkey, you the gazelle – oh sing bard and citizens, be; be the change in the world you wanna see – Ghandi-like touch tough & tender, the MLK we knew, J & RFK the dream ultra know-alls of everything because they fuck the begrudgers & ignore ungroovy not ‘us’ who c’mon you diamond, you mentor, you legend, revealing what it is, know we know you know we fucking want you, warmest fan, trainee follower of the most flagrantly transparent plastic Irish gig doing it for England, mate. C’mon rise up hand on heart call forth majesty and grace, wan pasty dirtballs, human waste – ‘you’ – know who, c’mon and sing the anthem, rise, think of Her Majesty and me Kev, open our eyes, close personal presence in the home & heart of all true English patriots, you and me.

    Isn’t Britain great?

    A lovely place to come from, proud Irish tossing grim our English love, admirers of everything in a bedsit-Irish cultural mentality that all functioning heavy drinkers rarely, if ever, escape. The lottery of hundreds and thousands – dissolving euros in the nightmare of being a plastic Kev.

    A Wiganer from Billinge familiar with Abraham, RUFC, an Orrel supporter and armchair fan of winning teams from Wigan and Liverpool, Preston, Manchester, Chorley and Banks, all over Lancashire, Merseyside, Cheshire East and West, from Frodsham to Clitheroe, Cumbria and the Dee, Flintshire to the Peak district, Queensferry to Buxton, nothing phased in the race functions everpresent, bedsit dwellers.

    Unpleasant the memories of ‘never us’ English lads taken to one side authentically more Irish than this republic; c’mon England don’t throw it away, piss it down a sink, thirty years in Bedsitland citizens, our only home and… yeah, we recognise the delusional quality, the application of effort, unusual, not really like a beautiful and bold, big boned rugby player behind flimsy plasterboard walls with his pneumatic Irish shag and the Latvians, American, Australians, French, Spanish, the Italians and Swedes in Copperface Jacks, middle-aged fortysomething English in-the-bedsit constituency, know because they know we know they secretly fancy us, Kev.

    Don’t play games. You want to be less Leicester, don’t you? Why? What’s up?

    There’s no sin being an English brit Irish people secretly love but are unable to admit to because of low self-esteem, a small room, patch, palace, castle, heart of our whole domestic enterprise and non existent hygeine regime, engendering old ones unable to c’mon & face up to who we whe English are, human beings, here. Hurrah! Love England. God bless your majesty Myers. Please write more, I can’t get enough of you, I am going mad with wanting to go to bed with you Kev.

    Really go to bed with you; two er, blokes, you know, normal happy patriots wanting to sacrifice only principles on the altar of our Brit Irish Englishness some just assume is the correct position, doing what must be done for our majesty-alone trap-two in a middle-aged Englishness with declining physical force and no shags coming our way now, no ten a week like it was, once, or twice, perhaps; the same reality. One.

    Names, names of me and you, living in London. Mate. You Myers, don’t ever try and deny it. When we read you it’s not a duty but through a deep and respectful love of your name. God, you are so English I want what you’ve got so much, so bad, it makes me want to start using again. Trash-talk, call your boyfriend. Do it and make us two three, c’mon you me and no moany Myers who needs us less than we need your peaceable lines. Work that ass, hustle dance it baby shake yr booty give it to me, shoot me in the face. Show us the moneyshot, give your one true self to two Englishmen, Myers a zebra me a donkey, plodding uplift onwardly enhanced,


    Language porn and very dangerous to read. Please be careful. You’d be best not reading it. Disgusting, fraudelent and corrupt. English language wanking at premium rate. Do not read. Fuck off.

  73. Rembrant Rewankered permalink
    October 20, 2011 12:27 AM

    This is the Myer rant the Irish Independent won’t let me ask him for a shag on Kevin Myers: Terrible things, bedsits — but are they the business of Government?

  74. hic8ubique permalink
    October 20, 2011 3:06 AM

    Ha! you’re just showing off now, Poss.
    Oddly enough, ‘termagant’ has been my favourite word for a week at least. No idea why it’s having a renascence, a resurgence, oh grand remonstrance… I’m for bed.

    • mishari permalink*
      October 20, 2011 8:38 AM

      I was going to use the word ‘shrew’ but the word ‘termagant’ popped into my head. I had to actually double-check to make sure that it meant what I thought it meant. I’m almost positive that that’s the first time in my life I’ve ever used that word. It’s a good one, though.

  75. hic8ubique permalink
    October 20, 2011 2:22 PM

    So, whilst we’re enjoying a lexical moment between us… there’s one thing from your PP ‘Styx and Stones’ that’s niggled in the background, it would relieve me to mention… with respect to any future florilegium, not just to be fussy:

    “The rest of us slip our anchors and sail away to the pub; to life; to a future rich with possibilities (not least of which is that we’ll be boarded, burned and sunk by morning; by mourning).”

    I’m sure it should be ‘hoist’ or ‘haul up’ or something to that effect, for the metaphor to work.
    There. Thanks for letting me get that off my chest.

    • mishari permalink*
      October 20, 2011 3:09 PM

      Not at all, hic. To ‘slip the anchor’ simply means that a ship wants to sail in a hurry. Instead of hoisting (a time-consuming process) a large hammer (called a ‘maul’) is used to strike a ringbolt, dislodging a pin and allowing the anchor to fall away. It means the loss of an anchor but ships always carry a spare.

      Remember Harold Camping? Sure you do: he predicted the end of the world would happen on, erm…May 21. That didn’t turn out too well (for Harold, anyway). Now the old imbecile is back in the game:

      Harold Camping’s fourth predicted doomsday, which includes a more peaceful death for non-believers, is predicted to happen Friday, Oct. 21.

      Camping has previously predicted three doomsdays, the most recent one being May 21. As a result of Camping’s prophecy, many followers sold all material possessions and quit their jobs in preparation for judgment.

      He has now changed his tune, saying May was just the “spiritual rapture” and so could not be seen, and that the “physical rapture” would follow on Oct. 21.

      Camping has predicting that the Oct. 21 Rapture will be quick and there will be “no pain” for non-believers.

      “We can be sure that the whole world, with the exception of those who are presently saved (the elect), are under the judgment of God, and will be annihilated together with the whole physical world on October 21, 2011,” Camping said in a statement.

      “God brought Judgment Day to the whole world. The whole world is on Judgment Day. It will continue to Oct. 21, 2011 and at that time the whole world will be destroyed,” Camping said in a public address after the May 21 disappointment.

      Although officially announcing his prediction, he is not publicly pushing his claim as much as he did back in May. —

      Woo…run for the hills. Actually, don’t bother…but props to Harold: he’s a moron, but he’s a persistent moron.

    • hic8ubique permalink
      October 20, 2011 5:39 PM

      Well, blow me down! There I was presuming to be saltier than thou. All this time I’d thought ‘slip anchor’ and ‘drop anchor’ were equivalent. You old pirate you.

  76. Edward Taylor permalink
    October 20, 2011 4:10 PM

    Harold ought to start off with achievable predictions ” I will eat supper at 7.15 tonight” or “I will wash after I get up tomorrow at approximately 8.20”.

    Then he can build up to bolder predictions which we may be more prepared to believe due to his earlier successes.

    What is it with Harold as a Christian name? Recent examples on here suggest it’s a hallmark for nincomposity.

  77. mishari permalink*
    October 20, 2011 6:59 PM

    Shouldn’t that be ‘nincompooposity’, Ed? Ah, you thought you could out-nautical me, my poor landlubberly hic? By the way, Ed, did you see Herzog’s Cave of Forgotten Dreams? I just got a copy but haven’t had the time to watch it.

    • hic8ubique permalink
      October 20, 2011 11:30 PM

      Noncomposity for me, or noncoposmentism even, after a week of sleep-pattern disturbance. I shouldn’t have been allowed to operate machinery, yet I had sonorous hours of extra driving just when I was least capable.

    • Reine permalink
      October 20, 2011 11:59 PM

      I’m termagantly sleep deprived…

  78. Edward Taylor permalink
    October 20, 2011 7:08 PM

    I went all Oulipo on that one.

    It’s a great film Mishari – I saw it in 3-D at the cinema and enjoyed it. It has some loony bits in it but lots of beautiful images too.

    So celebration of the death of someone who was extremely useful for the British government until he wasn’t.

  79. mishari permalink*
    October 20, 2011 8:04 PM

    I look forward to it, Ed. I also got Les Blank’s Burden of Dreams and Werner Herzog Eats His Shoe, a 20-minute short of Herzog making good on a lost bet. I saw the first many years ago but never the second. Crazy Werner hauling a 320-ton ship over a mountain; they don’t make them like him anymore: nowadays, some twerp would just whip it up with CGI.

    Poor old Gaddafi…I knew he was doomed the moment I saw Tony Blair kissing him.

  80. Edward Taylor permalink
    October 20, 2011 8:14 PM

    Both good films – Burden of Dreams especially so. I thought it was much better than its subject Fitzcarraldo which didn’t haul my boat over a mountain.

  81. Captain Ned permalink
    October 20, 2011 9:59 PM

    Have you seen My Best Fiend, Herzog’s documentary about his friendship with Kinski? Rather terrifying, especially when Herzog states solemnly: ‘But I am quite sane.’

    • Edward Taylor permalink
      October 20, 2011 10:18 PM

      It has a few scenes from Burden of Dreams in it – I enjoyed the bit where Kinski screams at the production manager.

      Are you still in BA Captain? Over here you’re missing the Coalition straining at the seams to the sound of nothing from the Labour party. The open goals are so open you wonder how they manage to miss them but they do.

    • Captain Ned permalink
      October 21, 2011 12:02 AM

      Still in BA, Ed, but only for a few more days; I fly back next week. As soon as I arrive, I’ll start planning a trip to Korea, which is a good place to teach English at the moment.

      Politics is very different here in Argentina. The presidential election is on Sunday; there are, I think, seven candidates, almost all of them representing different streams of the Left. The Right seems barely present, at least not in this election. Mauricio Macri, one of the most prominent conservative politicians, dropped out of the race early, preferring to seek another term as the capital’s mayor. He seems to be biding his time, knowing that he hasn’t a chance against CFK, who will doubtless waltz to victory. Other than that, there is a centre-right Peronist faction (the heirs of neo-liberal swine Menem), but, from what I can tell, there is some degree of entanglement with the centrist Peronist faction. What unites the centre-right and centrist Peronist factions is an opposition to left-wing Peronism (i.e. Kirchnerism), but they’re not that united, as there are two different candidates standing. It is very confusing.

      The political scene has obviously been disfigured by the history of military dictatorships and financial crises, not to mention the Perons. It was quite disconcerting to see one of CFK’s campaign posters showing pictures not only of herself and her late husband, but of Evita and JP too. The widespread nostalgia for those two is remarkable: there are huge images of Evita on either side of an office block in the middle of the main avenue, posters for a film about their love affair (Juan y Eva; how sweet); graffiti slogans reading ‘JP vive!’. I find it a bit depressing. JP was an amoral, repressive, two-faced populist of the bread-and-circuses variety, looking leftwards or rightwards depending on what suited him at the time (often both). In power, he courted ex-Nazis, and in exile cosied up to the likes of Franco. The lavish lifestyle he enjoyed with his wife was funded by massive corruption. And yet millions of people seem to let that slide. I know he improved many people’s lives with his public works schemes, but in remembering the good, can one not also remember the bad? The fact that the Junta was worse is no excuse for sentimental myopia.

      On a happier note, here’s a nice article, with musical clips, about the great Bernard Herrmann:

  82. Rembrant Rewankered permalink
    October 20, 2011 10:07 PM

    A Northern Ireland man who tried to turn his own faeces into gold by putting it on an electric heater has been jailed for three months.

    The bizarre experiment, carried out by Paul Moran, 30, caused around £3,000 worth of damage to his Housing Executive home in a block of flats at Derrin Park in Enniskillen in July.

    Upon his release he will spend a further 12 months on licence.

    Moran admitted arson and endangering the lives of others.

    His Honour Judge McFarland told him: “Rather bizarrely you were attempting to make gold from human faeces and waste products.

    “It was an interesting experiment to fulfil the alchemist’s dream, but wasn’t going to succeed.”

    While outlining the circumstances of the case at Enniskillen Magistrates Court, prosecuting counsel Robin Steer, told those present that at 7.12pm on July 24 last year the Fire Brigade was called to Moran’s flat at Derrin Park in Cornagrade, Enniskillen.

    A police officer who was at the scene overheard Moran tell someone he had put “fertiliser” on a heater.

    Moran’s barrister, Des Fahy, agreed that the general circumstances of the case were bizarre. He said Moran was a man of considerable intellectual ability but there was a clear problem over the years relating to drug abuse.

    The judge noted that Moran was now on anti-psychotic medication and agreed with the findings of a pre-sentence report, which said he did not pose “a significant risk of serious harm

  83. hic8ubique permalink
    October 21, 2011 1:40 AM

    The condensed Iliad is a fertile opportunity for a talent such as yours, Ned. How about seven minutes?
    I prefer John Roberts’ crustier version of this three-minute Hamlet, but it’s not on YT and I haven’t the wherewithal to put it there.

    Speaking of that… what is the latest on the PolHom music channel? Any briefing for us, Mishari?
    I hope it’s only on temporary probation due to airs, infractions, crimes against civility, and whatnot…

  84. Reine permalink
    October 21, 2011 9:10 PM

    Well I am having a lucky day – won an overnight stay and tickets for Belfast opera festival and tickets to see jazz ensemble, Thought Fox, here in Dublin. If I win the lotto tomorrow night, I’ll organise a little get-together for us. It’s the least I could do, really. Don’t pack just yet.

  85. Cafe De Seine permalink
    October 22, 2011 7:13 AM

    I originally posted the rant below on SJordison’s dangerously limp account of the Booker live tv coverage. He had been drinking (so he claimed), watching this insufferably smug static spectacle of artists competitive ignoring one another, that none but a narrrow band of competitively English wankers practicing their class in an accent so dull and depressing, forgettable and uninspiring, hollow and inauthentic; recognise, conceive or comprehend.

    Apparently there was some major social awkwardness Jordison sniffed a chance to sound concerned about. Wow amazing, a pensioner writer offends the fake liberal humanist sensibilities of an unsatisfied freelance with colleague and child. A chancer

    I thought Dame Stella Rimington makes a great addition to any competitively middle-class literary event celebrating payment in prizes to millionaire writers winning cheques in the tens of thousands, and am happy she caused so much offense to so many of the intellegensia at home in the mother tongue. I loved the spectacle of embaressment and awkwardness.

    It was even better than watching Kevin MacCloud speaking the only middle-class minimalist reality-as-entertainment spectacle this showbiz-failure tolerates viewing as a participatory critic. Because it can be taken or left. MacCloud’s aristocratic phoniness mixing with married property speculators moving to another realm of domestic bliss. Love it. The practicality and use of defined curves in finely drawn light constructing a picture in space. The effortlessly pompus sort of commentary Kevin McLoud – never Kev you notice – blithely insults us with.

    On a journey as a regular viewer of this jolly decent fellow Kevin, talking airy fairy twaddle to superior homeowners and the odd deserving human being, one recognizes his faux and frothy literary equivalent as a darling luvvie literary journalist, editor and judge-at-large flashing about on trains a lot, who is familiar with airports and rallying public opinion around his or her employer’s political line.

    Read their seriously considerate and intelligent take on why a snobbish literary rag fakes the ethos it does. As a conduit through which public opinion is channelled to agree with stuck-up editorial voices, explaining how a decision is arrived at. Why deserving millionaire writer A, B, C, D, E, F etc, agree they are the best serious lovers of literary delivery and debate. To disagree with this premise more readably is offensive and a serious no-no. Isn’t it?

    I judged the Booker live tv coverage last year. In truth, stumbled across it cable surfing. I was happy to see a successful Guardian art editor there. Claire Armistead, whose thumbnail-face and prominent close-ups, in photo-headers of the blogs I’d read of hers, reports her judging of literary events, and the decision processes experienced, explaining to us as the judge and intimately involved with others, whose opinions we’ve read and consistently disagree with: How, why, when and what is written about.

    The graduina Art editor did great &, don’t laugh – important work we the world need to be reminded of in her role as a very good judge in the art world. Not only as a boss to her colleagues, but as a responsible person promoting a social network section on the art page, messaging in a national-global forum, polite, meaningful words.

    In last year’s pre-announcement; Michael Portillo, Claire Armistead and a forgettable other judge hogging the number two spot in a live Booker punditry competition impossible to avoid judging. Not as a heavy user of the Guardian forums and deeply committed lover of contemporary art, but as viewer and critic of a static, intellectual spectacle. Clear third in the pecking order of that trio of literary professionals and cultural ambassadors for whatever channel employs them, draguina Armistead came.

    It was a straight fight between two professional commentators at this event, comprehensively overshadowed by Portillo. Both were amazing and marvelous and wonderful and fabulously well-drawn, achingly exquisite all round, and because, how could it be not – this close to actual millionaire storytellers awarding themselves tens of grands, at the in your face event celebrating a cheque for tens of thousands of pounds to immensley deserving fictions worth every single cent bcuz of the one continually repeated message. In your face. That’s it.

    The lowest form of failure in writerly showbiz us pundits talking and not doing it at the Julian Barnes level. We all deserve it we all know that. C’mon, I mean, you know… no, no, of course the debut of Dirk Remington is up there, it’s just that.. no, no, of course the World Is Also Ours by Den Foclu is brilliant and marvelous and everything else, and yes, yes there is a quality of deep, dark fluffiness at the heart of that book my four year old son still wakes me up in the middle of the night to ask mummy, mummy about… no, God no, Jonathan Negamanti’s portrayal of fourteenth century Doncaster is heartbreakingly well realised… no, sorry, yes of course whatsiname won last year an overdue consolation from the judges (they know who they are), for not spotting the obvious brilliance in the earlier books that prove he ‘won’ it anyway, without even being on long or shortlist. The contemporary novel posterity decided clearly superior to a predictably smug git winning most years.

  86. mishari permalink*
    October 22, 2011 8:41 PM

    From an excellent piece by Glenn Greenwald:

    Since the bin Laden killing, we have witnessed a similar joyous reaction when the U.S. assassinated its own citizen, Anwar Awlaki (along with another American dubiously claimed to be “collateral damage”) — even though Awlaki was never indicted as a Terrorist, charged with treason, or accorded any due process, and even though the government never showed the public any evidence supporting its accusations.

    Instead, Obama officials, with no evidence offered, simply declared him to be a Bad Terrorist, and that was all that was needed: hordes of his fellow Americans did not merely approve — but cheered — the news that a drone had found and killed him.

    Identically, both before and after the Awlaki killing, Americans have routinely celebrated the drone-deaths of hundreds of individuals about whom they knew nothing other than the fact that the Terrorist label had been applied to them by the U.S. Government. It’s as though there is a belief that American missiles do not detonate unless they hit an actual Terrorist…

    Putting bullets into people’s skulls and exploding them into little bits and pieces by sky robots is one of the very few things at which America still seems to excel. So that’s what the political class feeds to the population to keep them convinced of the country’s exceptionalism and righteousness. But that’s a toxic diet, one that can produce some short-term satisfaction but unquestionably spawns long-term disease.

    What’s perhaps most revealing about these death-celebrations are how reflexive — how visceral — they have become. For a President to claim the power to target his own citizens for death — and to do so in total secrecy, with no rules or oversight — is literally one of the most radical powers that a political leader can seize.

    The Fifth Amendment’s guarantee of “due process” was intended to prohibit exactly that, as was the Constitution’s heightened requirements for proving “Treason” in a court of law. Had George Bush seized this power, it would have led the list of progressive “shredding-the-Constitution” grievances against him. But all of that was washed away in the celebrations over Awlaki’s death, drowned out by the blind ritualistic war cry of “He was Bad and so I’m glad he’s dead!” — glenngreenwald,, today

    Read the whole article HERE.

    Nominees for The Harold Camping Award For Crap Predictions:

    “The Americans have need of the telephone, but we do not. We have plenty of messenger boys.” — Sir William Preece, engineer-in-chief for the British Post Office, 1876

    “Who the hell wants to hear actors talk?” — Harry M. Warner, Warner Bros, 1927

    “There will never be a bigger plane built.” — A Boeing engineer after witnessing the maiden flight of the 247, a twin-engine plane that held 10 people, 1933

    “By 2000…rayon underwear [will be] bought by chemical factories to be converted into candy.” — Popular Mechanics, “Miracles You’ll See in the Next Fifty Years,” 1950

    “And for the tourist who really wants to get away from it all, safaris in Vietnam.” — Newsweek, forecasting holiday trends for the late 1960s

    “There is no reason anyone would want a computer in their home.” — Ken Olson, co-founder of Digital Equipment Corp., 1977

  87. Edward Taylor permalink
    October 23, 2011 11:06 AM

    Letter to the Radio Times from a concerned “ahem” poet

    The Hurt Locker
    Is quite a shocker,
    Its micro-observed intensity
    Obscures the propensity
    For Hollywood to use narrative tricks
    To avoid analysis of politics.
    We see frontline tensions, the strain, the flack
    But never what America was doing in Iraq.
    The locals are background to be ordered about
    Whilst US mavericks find protocol to flout.
    It looks modern, YouTubish, a documentary on More4
    But it’s a repackaged story we’ve seen

    The Hurt Locker
    Put me down as a knocker.

  88. Edward Taylor permalink
    October 23, 2011 1:07 PM

    Dear Ed. In line 10 of this crit-by-poem could you change “rules” to “protocol” ? [Done-Ed.]


    Was out shopping this morning and saw the Evangelicals filing into their church ( all the men looked worryingly like the NatWest bank manager who visited our workshop last week trying to sell us life insurance ) so it appears Harold Camping has got it wrong again.

  89. hic8ubique permalink
    October 23, 2011 9:03 PM

    It might have been about a month ago, EdT… I heard a conversation on public Radio which included an explanation of the Pentagon retaining privilege of editorial control of footage as a condition of leasing military equipment to film-makers.
    (Top Gun was cited.) This must be one of the the softer faces of propaganda.

    Prospective teen recruits, on the other hand, are shown explicitly tantalising footage of big machinery in thrilling action to entice them to sign on.
    Parents won’t be aware (unless they search out the info) that to obviate recruitment of their children in school, they must expressly opt out.

  90. Edward Taylor permalink
    October 23, 2011 11:30 PM

    The Hurt Locker is more Support our Troops in the Middle East than Join the Army but by focusing right down on a few individuals and giving no context it turns the conflict in Iraq into a computer game.

    • hic8ubique permalink
      October 23, 2011 11:36 PM

      I can imagine a rapturous John Williams score.

    • Edward Taylor permalink
      October 24, 2011 11:26 AM

      Very little music.

      It deserves 10 out of 10 for creating high tension but cleverly hides the same old story behind what used to be avant-garde film techniques – “ugly” camera work, a focus on objects, an eye for the surreal,

      If it were just a sort of existential musing on bomb disposal I’d have a lot more time for it. But rather than that it plays for your sympathy with the stereotype rogue hero whose “gut instincts” override authority pitted against untrustworthy foreigners..

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