Misanthropic Misanthracists Meet

Con-men Congregate

Balls, a lavish fête,
parties!  We can hardly wait
for pre-planned “debate”.

(We’ll eradicate
the vexing data we hate—
warmth cannot abate;

we’ll accumulate
even more wealth to create
scares; indoctrinate

all who populate
the West; and then we’ll dictate:
demolish the State!)

This time of year, late
spring, Durban’s weather is great;
ignore Climategate!

Fun?

The President of the USA and I clearly have differing views on what might constitute fun news:

UPDATE I (2 December):

UPDATE II (18 December):  see “Dear Democratic Party Contributor”.

UPDATE III (29 March, 2012):  another letter from Michelle Obama, and my reply:

UPDATE IV (9 October, 2012):  I finally succumbed to relentless appeals and, though a foreigner, donated to Obama’s election campaign.

Naming Things Properly

Caroline Glick, in her latest column, “Calling things by their proper names”, provides this incisive conclusion:

There is a price to be paid for calling an enemy an enemy.  But there is an even greater price to be paid for failing to do so.

UPDATE:

Another Presidential E-mail

Return to beneath the Planet of Climategate

I provide links, at Impact of Climate Change, to ClimateGate II.

UPDATE (27 November):  I have also, inter alia, posted “Say ‘Yes’ to Pious Self-Censorship”, “Micellaneous Gems from ClimateGate II”, “Another Gem from ClimateGate II”, “Three Different Responses” and “Prof. Phil Jones and Alice”.

“Psychic” Fails to Predict Her Own Conviction for Fraud

From “Bet she didn’t see that one coming: Benefits cheat clairvoyant who claimed £33,000 is ordered to pay back every penny”, by Emily Allen, in The Daily Mail:

A clairvoyant who failed to foresee a conviction for benefit fraud has been ordered to pay back every penny of £33,000 she illegally claimed.

Self-styled Tarot reader and fortune-teller Dawn Pearson, 50, was uncovered as a benefits cheat after investigators realised she was being paid to carry out psychic consultations over the phone, a court heard.

The telephone charges were costing a fortune for her customers at £1.53 per minute, while Pearson was claiming benefits for being too ill to work.

(Thanks to The Crack Emcee of the Macho Response.)

See also ‘“Psychics” on Television’.

UPDATE (22 July, 2012):  see “‘Psychic'’ who brainwashed young women into stripping naked to ‘help them contact the dead’ is jailed for two years”, by Suzannah Hills, in The Daily Mail.

Unserved Desserts

Bellaria faciunt, deserta appellant.

I sent this message to Hog’s Breath Cafe (Australia) Pty Ltd:

King Tantalus, an ancestor of Agamemnon and Menelaus, was punished, you may recall, for serving his dismembered and boiled son at a banquet for the gods.  In the underworld, he was condemned to stand, famished and parched, perpetually in a pool of cool, clear water beneath a fecund fruit tree of many low branches laden with ripe, succulent fruit; whenever he reached for the inviting food, however, the branches moved teasingly just beyond his grasp, and whenever he bent down to cup some refreshing water, it too would recede frustratingly beyond his reach.  From the punishment of Tantalus, we derive the verb tantalise—to torment someone with the sight or promise of something desirable but unobtainable.

In an advertisement on commercial television, you announce that Hog’s Breath Cafes feature “tantalising desserts”.  Now, I have never dined at one of your establishments, but the advertisements do not entice me to try my luck, because I don’t fancy having a trolley of appealing, tempting desserts wheeled before me only to be frustrated by my not being allowed to have one.  Your advertisements suggest a scene such as this:

Diner:  I’d like a nice slice now of Mississippi Mud Cake, please.

Waiter:  I’m sorry, but we’ve run out.

Diner:  But I can see a whole cake over there!

Waiter:  Ah, that’s off, I’m afraid.

Diner:  Oh, all right, I’ll have some of your creamy, calorific Strawberry & Chocolate Fondue, then.

Waiter:  It’s rather runny.

Diner:  I like it runny.

Waiter:  Sorry, the cat’s got into it.

Diner:  Some Pav?

Waiter:  We’ll have some on Tuesday. ...

What is your practice?  Do you wave delicious desserts under the noses of diners and then tell them that they can’t have any?  Perhaps, if you do provide real desserts, you could use a more appropriate adjective, such as enticing, appealing, tempting or even irresistible—but not tantalising.

UPDATE I (25 November):  I have so far received no response to the e-mail I sent Monday, so I resubmitted the message by way of the Hog’s Breath Cafe “General Enquiry Form”.

UPDATE II (25 November):  I received today a condescending e-mail from Rodney Winkleman, Operations Director, Hog’s Breath Cafe (Australia) Pty Ltd:

Thank you for taking the time to email in with the following information.  I take your feedback on board and will make consideration to amendments when we next shoot a commercial.

UPDATE III (21 November, 2012):  a year later and the advertisements for Hog’s Breath Cafes still feature the silly claim that the deserts are tantalising.

Mr. Pickwick’s Wise Words on Mobs

From Chapter XIII, “Some Account of Eatanswill; of the State of Parties therein; and of the Election of a Member to serve in Parliament for that ancient, loyal, and patriotic Borough”, of The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club, Containing a Faithful Record of the Perambulations, Perils, Travels, Adventures and Sporting Transactions of the Corresponding Members, by Charles Dickens (London, 1837):

“Slumkey for ever!” roared the honest and independent.
“Slumkey for ever!” echoed Mr. Pickwick, taking off his hat.
“No Fizkin!” roared the crowd.
“Certainly not!” shouted Mr. Pickwick.
“Hurrah!”  And then there was another roaring, like that of a whole menagerie when the elephant has rung the bell for the cold meat.
“Who is Slumkey?” whispered Mr. Tupman.
“I don’t know,” replied Mr. Pickwick, in the same tone.  “Hush, don’t ask any questions.  It’s always best on these occasions to do what the mob do.”
“But suppose there are two mobs?” suggested Mr. Snodgrass.
“Shout with the loudest,” replied Mr. Pickwick.

One Occupier Beats Another with a Hammer

He Was Just Following Orders*

One occupier was sore and quite pained;
“Incessant drumming’s at fault”, he complained.
The lousy drummer, twinkling at his head,
then yelled commandingly: “Beat it!” he said. 

*  see “Occuhammer Time”, by Tim Blair

The Greatest Book on the Greatest President

A new book, Obama: the Greatest President in the History of Everything (Broadside, 2011; ISBN 978-0-06-213260-4) [16 pp.*], by Frank J. Fleming, is now available at Amazon.com.  The price, according to a review at PJ Media (by a reviewer, coincidentally, who has the same name as the author), is an affordable $1.99, but the price I paid was an even more affordable $0.00; accordingly, Obama: the Greatest President in the history of Everything is infinitely cheaper, and far better value, than any other book I have bought from Amazon recently.

It’s hard to remember the dark days before 2008.  It was a time of hatred, racism, violence, obese children, war, untaxed rich people, and incandescent light bulbs—perhaps the worst days we had ever seen.  And at the heart of it all was a thuggish, thoughtless man, George W. Bush, who lashed out angrily at whatever he didn’t understand—and he understood so very little.  Then there was that laugh of his—that horrible snicker that mocked everything intelligent and nuanced.  Also, he looked like a chimp.
It seemed like the end for the United States of America.  We would crumble in the hands of vicious, superstitious dimwits determined to hunt “ter’ists” or other figments of Bush’s rotten mind.  There was nothing left to do but head to Whole Foods to prepare our organic, sustainable, fair-trade last meal as the country ended around us.  Despair had overtaken us, and we wondered aloud whether we could ever feel hope again.
And then a man emerged who firmly answered, “Yes we can!”
Oh, but Barack Obama was no mere man.  He was a paragon of intelligence and civilized society.  A saviour to the world’s depressed.  A lightbringer.  A genius thinking thoughts the common man could never hope to comprehend. And his words—his beautiful words read from crystal panes—reached down to our souls and told us all would be well.  With the simple act of casting a ballot for Barack Obama, we could make the world an immeasurably better place—a world of peace, of love, of understanding, of unicorns, of rainbows, of expanded entitlements.  This was his promise.  And now, having had him as president for more than two years, we can say without reservation that he has delivered all his promises and more and is the best president this country—or any country—has ever had or could even imagine to have.

The book is a magnificent opusculum.  I have, however, just one small quibble:  though some words and names of past presidents—if one may even mention previous presidents in the same sentence when considering the transcendent, glorious incumbent—are italicised, the paragraph on Chester A. Arthur uses underscores instead of italics for one word—“_more_”.
Apart from that one blemish, and the lack of really obsequious grovelling of the wonderful Commander in Chief, and too many mentions of his evil predecessor, and a dearth of praise for the beauteous First Lady of Grace and Style, the book is without fault.  Oh, and it’s too short.  Also, every now and again one begins to suspect that the author doesn’t really quite know how to describe his rightful esteem for His Magnificence, the Leader of Free Peoples Everywhere, with sufficient vim and vigour or humility; otherwise, the book is superlative, essential reading for every citizen of this or any other world.

[*  or more, depending on preferred format]

Meanwhile, in Other News

Yesterday, there were demonstrations to thank our generous government for raising the chocolate ration to twenty grammes a week.

Sad Writer’s Death

Eulogies Fly out the Window 

For a smart writer,
ipsodefenestration
is forever linked.

One rather long word
will be his life’s legacy?
That’s so indistinct.

Well, he might have had
a little sentence instead
which would be succinct.

UPDATE I:  see Matt Hayden’s “Peter Roebuck the latest ‘tortured artist’ to die tragically”, wherein I posted this comment:

Roebuck was a far better writer than most journalists—but that’s not saying much.  He did write fluently and expressively, with perceptive judgements, but he also had stylistic faults (in the columns I’ve read, at least).  For example, he put too little effort into choosing his conjunctions: he used “and” too often to express a contrast or consequence, say, when “yet” or “so” would be more appropriate choices, and he would even use “and” as a subordinating conjunction.  He was also ill-served by his sub-editors: in the last paragraph of his last column, for instance, “ironically” and “however” need to be followed by commas (and “ironically” is used in a journalistic, catachrestic sense):

“Ironically Johnson, a bowler, is the most likely player to be dropped.  However the team for the first Test against New Zealand has become harder to predict.  Mind you, a lot can happen in a week.  It just did.”

The liberal praise of Roebuck as an awesome writer of sublime genius may indicate how poorly read his contemporaries are.

UPDATE II (18 November):  see also “Your sick acts humiliated me: Roebuck’s alleged victim speaks out”, by Hedley Thomas, in The Australian.

UPDATE III (21 November):  and see Tim Blair’s “Unknown Roebuck”.

Part of Parliament Refuses to Be Part of Parliament

TWAKI has a post, “Governor General not interested in Australian democracy”, which quotes a letter from the Governor-General’s office:

Her Excellency has asked me to reply to you on her behalf.
I have taken note of your views.  However, in a parliamentary democracy, these are matters for the Parliament to resolve and it would be inappropriate for the Governor-General to intervene.
You may wish to bring your views to the attention of your elected representatives.

According the Australian Constitution, the Governor-General (representing the Queen) is an integral constituent of the Parliament:

1. The legislative power of the Commonwealth shall be vested in a Federal Parliament, which shall consist of the Queen, a Senate, and a House of Representatives, and which is herein-after called “The Parliament,” or “The Parliament of the Commonwealth.”
2. A Governor-General appointed by the Queen shall be Her Majesty’s representative in the Commonwealth, and shall have and may exercise in the Commonwealth during the Queen’s pleasure, but subject to this Constitution, such powers and functions of the Queen as Her Majesty may be pleased to assign to him. 

58. When a proposed law passed by both Houses of the Parliament is presented to the Governor-General for the Queen's assent, he shall declare, according to his discretion, but subject to this Constitution, that he assents in the Queen’s name, or that he withholds assent, or that he reserves the law for the Queen’s pleasure.
The Governor-General may return to the house in which it originated any proposed law so presented to him, and may transmit therewith any amendments which he may recommend, and the Houses may deal with the recommendation.

61. The executive power of the Commonwealth is vested in the Queen and is exercisable by the Governor-General as the Queen’s representative, and extends to the execution and maintenance of this Constitution, and of the laws of the Commonwealth.

The Governor-General, effectively, is bizarrely stating, “it would be inappropriate for the Governor-General to be involved in matters which the Governor-General, the Senate and the House of Representatives must resolve.”
The Governor-General has a moral duty, just as Senators and Members of the House of Representatives each have a duty, to ensure that all proposed laws are just, enforceable, and in the national interest.  Unfortunately, the present, pretentious, partisan, pusillanimous Governor-General wants to enjoy all the perquisites of her position (and then some), apparently, without actually bothering with the hard task of checking whether legislation passed by the Senate and House of Representatives ought to receive royal assent.

See also “May the Governor-General Dissolve the House of Representatives?”

UPDATE:  Some have unjustly censured our gracious sovereign for not attempting to stop our incompetent Government ruining the country further.  HM the Queen has quite rightly refused to intervene because all her powers, constitutionally, are vested in the Governor-General who does have the power (as I mention above)—as well as the moral duty—to intervene.  All the Queen may do under our Constitution, since the passage of the Australia Act in 1986, is appoint the Governor-General, on the advice of the Prime Minister.

Armistice Day

On this day, Armistice Day, or Remembrance Day, we commemorate the cessation of hostilities during World War I (but not the end of the war—at least between Germany and the Allied Powers—, which officially ended when The Treaty of Versailles was signed on 28 June, 1919*).  In the US, Armistice Day—remembering peace as well as the sacrifice of soldiers—has become Veterans Day—remembering the service of soldiers.

In Kurt Vonnegut’s Breakfast of Champions, or Goodbye Blue Monday! (1973) Philboyd Studge writes:

When I was a boy [...] all the people of all the nations which had fought in the First World War were silent during the eleventh minute of the eleventh hour of Armistice Day, which was the eleventh day of the eleventh month.
It was during that minute in nineteen hundred and eighteen, that millions upon millions of human beings stopped butchering one another.  I have talked to old men who were on battlefields during that minute.  They have told me in one way or another that the sudden silence was the Voice of God.  So we still have among us some men who can remember when God spoke clearly to mankind.
Armistice Day has become Veterans’ Day.  Armistice Day was sacred. Veterans’ Day is not.
So I will throw Veterans’ Day over my shoulder.  Armistice Day I will keep.  I don’t want to throw away any sacred things.

*  alternatively, some may consider that the First World War ended last year, when Germany finally paid the last of its reparations.

Incredibly Challenging

Hard to Believe

Some women’s jobs are

incredibly challenging,

says our dear PM.

What exactly makes
family counselling, say,
incredibly hard?

What’s hard to believe

is how words confuse her; she

can’t understand them

(as anyone can tell
who’s had the misfortune
of hearing Gillard).

Her minders, then, should

avoid mentioning any

complex stratagem.

Unlucky, sad staff
complain, “Lexically, the
PM’s a retard.”

Our Dear Leader ponders the meaning of words.

From “150,000 of Australia’s lowest paid workers including 120,000 women are set for a pay rise”, by Patrick Lion: 

In Sydney, Prime Minister Julia Gillard today announced that she would put a joint submission on equal pay with the Australian Services Union to Fair Work Australia.
Ms Gillard said the move was an important step to closing the long-standing pay gap between men and women and delivering fairness in the workplace.
The 150,000 workers affected includes 120,000 women working in sectors such as disability carers, family counselling, running homeless shelters and working with victims of domestic violence or sexual assault.
"Workers in this sector have been underpaid for too long because their work was viewed as women’s work. They work in incredibly challenging jobs," Ms Gillard said.

“Incredibly” joins a very long list of fairly simple words—including literally, no, carbon, tax, pollution and promise—which the Hon. Julia Gillard fails to comprehend. 

UPDATE I:  see bingbing’s “Why’s the PM have to make it a gender issue?” 

UPDATE II:  added the sixth stanza.

UPDATE III (25 November):  the picture above provoked the following verses.  (I wrote the slightly different, first version as a submission to bingbing’s call for captions.)

A Dream 

Between London Bridge
and the Tower of London
I saw Gillard’s head

on a spike. Tourists
gasped, “What is that horrid thing?”
“A traitress,” I said.

“She was a PM
who willfully sabotaged
the country she led.

“However, at last
the people had had enough
and, having seen red,

“tried her for treason.
They tried to bring back old laws
just for her. She fled

“to Britain which brought
back the old penalty too.
She’s exhibited

“as an example
to all. Thus, she now does more
for the country, dead,

“than she ever did
alive:  for good folk are aye
corrupt leaders’ dread.”

UPDATE III (29 November):  “We can face the confidence with future!”


UPDATE IV (7 December):  at university, unsurprisingly, Julia Gillard could not write well:

UPDATE V (27 March, 2012):  see “Unfit to Lead” and “The PM Lied”.

UPDATE VI (2 February, 2013):  in a media conference to announce that she knew twelve months ago that two ministers would now resign—really, honestly!—the PM thrice described the shoes of both Nicola Roxon and Chris Evans as incredibly big, and incredibly hard to fill.
In “The PM and Her People Agree”, see examples of the PM’s inadequate understanding of the world “literally”. 

UPDATE VII (6 April, 2013):  in a speech this week our Beloved Leader said, “Friends, nothing in our destiny is certain”.  Umm, if you’re going to believe in destiny it helps if you understand that the whole concept of destiny—from the Latin, destinare, “to determine”—is that it refers to complete certainty of future events. 

UPDATE VIII (20 April, 2013):  in a speech today to the Victorian Labor Party Conference, our dear PM said:

Today, one in 12 Australian kids aren’t meeting minimum standards in reading, writing and maths.

That should be “One in twelve isn’t meeting minimum standards”, of course; one is singular.
She also said:

Today, four of the top five schooling systems in the world are in our region and we aren’t one of them.

We aren’t a schooling system?  Oh, no! 
It’s unlikely that merely giving more funding to schools will improve standards; after all, we pay the PM over $470,000 a year and her standards in reading, writing and maths have not improved.