The Sleeping Sword

Once upon a time, back in the days before Global Warming, before the ever widening gap between rich and poor was large enough to notice (O Happy Days!), before there was class distinctions, everybody lived a happy and carefree life of vegetarian plenty and One world of Gaia's children's abundance. But then is not now, now is it.

Back then, everybody agreed about everything. Which makes sense because everybody was really a close or sort of close relative. There were not too many people, they all grew up together, they shared their values. Do you disagree with this? Back then, there were social problems as well. Everyone agreed that there were crimes, and what the punishments for the crimes should be. Murder was bad, everyone agreed; murderers were killed, which was good, everyone agreed. Because everyone was like minded on the bad and the good, anyone could and did execute murderers. There were some issues with strength, ability, and opportunity of weapons, but we can leave that to the historians. Back then, they agreed on what was good, what was bad, and how to deal with it. So, if two young men went up to an isolated farm house, murdered the farmer and his wife (incidently stealing his few coins of money out of an old coffee jar) that would be agreed to be bad, the penalty would be agreed to by common understanding, and most anyone could carry it out (they had to; the state apparatus for such things had not yet been invented, which is my next point, but I am not there yet); and if the two young men came back the next day to where the lifeless bodies of the farmer and his wife were starting to swell with rot in the heat, and they found the little daughter of the pair crying beside their bodies; if they took the five cents the little girl had (offered up to buy her life), and locked her inside the house and burnt it down, then all would be in agreement about who was bad, and what should be done to them. In fact, if you did not hang them, there is something wrong with you. But that was then, and this is now.

This is, in a non-academic way, a description of the social contract. Everyone agrees on what is bad, what is good, and what to do about it. As society became better, progressive, it was agreed that designated others would specialize and carry out specialized functions: cops would arrest the evil, judges would decide what crimes they had committed, and hangmen would hang them if the criminals had committed and offense that everyone agreed was worth hanging for. Everyone was happy; some would throw a coin into a pot to pay the cop, the judge, and the hangman. Justice was swift, as we all know it should be.

So, now I look out at society. Everyone I know agrees on what is bad and what is good and what to do about it. Drowning your wife and children in a car is bad, we all agree. Kidnapping two strangers and raping, torturing, and murdering them, is bad. But I do not see much effort on the part of the people me and mine pay to do stuff about it do stuff about it. It is glossed over with the excuse that these murderers have a different culture. Their ancestors were harshly dealt with in the past. Excuses, excuses. Me and mine, we can accept this. As long as the guy drowning his wife and kids is not drowning my wife and kids; as long as the people being kidnapped, raped, and murdered are far away. Until then, thanks to not knowing about this stuff (thanks to the secret agreements among non-ability hired media personalities), thanks to ignorance, the social contract is still on.

As you may have guessed, the social contract is getting a bit worn. For the last few decades most have wrapped their lips around the white guilt dispenser of the progressives and swallowed. Bad people are good because their grand daddy was hard done by. Good people are bad because their grand daddy had a mule and a pig. As long as this did not actually touch people, it was ok. After all, the people squirting out this white guilt are smart people, whom we respect; they speak nice using fancy words; they have class; and it only cost us a few coins; you could feel better knowing that this five cents on your gallon of gas was helping the useless, the lazy, and the shoplifting public urinators stay away from your useful, hard working, and safe homes, neighborhoods, and communities. One begins to suspect the hired agents supposed to carry out the public will are more thieves than servants, that the practice of law has become an excuse to delay the public will in exchange for fees, and that the bad people of society are being coddled because they are co-opted into manipulation of the electoral system. Somehow the system looks to be run by thieves, using murderers as enforcers. But this belief does not touch everybody, only some. They can adapt by moving away. They can stop paying the thieves guild of government by embracing the black market. They can talk quietly among themselves, but not openly, because we have no freedom of speech.

The tipping point. I still do not like murderers, and everyone I know agrees. The murderers that our hired staff tell us are really victims of us, not killers of you; that our hired staff sends to live closer to us than themselves, do not bother most people. But lately, there are too many coins taken from the ever decreasing number of people with coins; and the murderers that walk the streets are walking too close to where we live, and certainly around where we work. The people running things are starting to look like thieves themselves. And since the social contract is breaking down, things will revert back to the days when thieves got their hands cut off before being burnt alive as interest on stolen money. This is not just me talking, it is just the way things always are. Tell me it is not so.

My morning post is done. I can go stand on my porch and have my first cup of tea of the day. I can watch the welfare people slouch by, spitting on the sidewalk. I can watch people make rolling stops, drive drunk, and talk on their cell phones when they drive with their knees. It is all good; and will be so until it is all bad. The servants raised up as masters do not see a thing coming. I guess their eyes are gummed shut with white guilt.

Hope for Gifts

It must be Christmas, er, Holiday. I am starting to get those expensively designed appeals for my after tax money in the form of charity giving. Big glossy pictures of smiling kids. For only a small fee, you can buy their village a water pump, plant a mango tree, or give them a goat. They will never again need a handout. I would link to the website, but that would give the activists who lurk on this site an excuse to denounce me so that they could get a fat informants bonus check. You have a brain: I am sure you got the same thick booklet of Hope for Gifts. I have gotten three so far. Don't you read your junk mail?

Unbalanced Coverage

I keep checking the Red Star for balanced coverage of this domestic disturbance in Syria. They keep picking on Syria, and its democratically elected leader, Assad. I keep hoping to find a balanced view in the media. How about an interview with the Syrian ambassador? He must be easy enough to find, even for one of the technological illiterates called journalists. Isn't he in the phone book? Arrange an interview? How about the United Nations? Isn't Syria running the Human Rights Commission there? Doesn't Barb Hall have them on speed dial? Maybe at one of their evening Alinsky meetings Barb can pass over a message. Why does the main stream media hate Syria? They were good friends before.

Sunday Sermon

Those men in black, men with religion, are frightening to those without. (The man pictured here is an actor portraying Thomas Cromwell, chancellor of King Henry the Eighth). I do not see very many men of religion around these days. On the street where I live, nobody but me goes to church, to services. Instead they sleep in, rise around ten, and perform chores for the Missus. For the welfare people in the welfare house down the street, Sunday is still a special day: they get up around noon. So where are all those dreadful Christians our atheist elites keep warning us about? The church I go to is one of two of my denomination in the City of Toronto. We are easily outnumbered by safe injection sites, designated prostitute walks, rainbow flag bath houses, and state funded gang banger transition centers. I see no Christian peril on those few hours of the day when it is safe to walk the streets. Instead I am left with the realization that the media is using the specter of Christianity to scare the faithless majority into paying taxes, indulgence in distracting pleasures of the flesh, and keeping off the streets just long enough to be safe, but not long enough to not go to work.

Those fellow Canadians

Who do you know? You have friends, family, co-workers. If you work in sales, you have customers. This may be a secret to you, but salesmen despise their customers. They are rude, condescending, and play games with your livelihood. But other than that special case, the people you know, you like. What about the strangers in your life, the ones you only see once. People on the bus, say; or people who drive past on the commute. In public transit, people avoid eye contact. Our socialist social services sector has decreed that the insane should walk among us; our politicians, who never mix with the creatures they have sent to publicly urinate on transit, carry unregistered weapons, and hate our skin.

Hear no evil, See no evil, Collect no pension

Oh dear, the economic prosperity brought about by progressive policies, social engineering, and fairy cake logic is starting to impact on the holders of the invisible knapsack of white privilege * . The slurpers of white guilt must be happy. Do put aside your cares and wipe your sticky lips for a moment. Savor that smell of redistribution of wealth from the rich to the poor. Other people call it other things, but those other people can be shouted down if they do not use the right, er, left sort of words to describe the situation. Do read the article. Form your own opinions. And utter the words and statements approved of by the progressives; in a nation without free speech you should only share your opinions with people you trust.

Wrap your mouth around this. People who collect pensions are a segment of society in decline. The increasing others are people variously dependent on the state, or the living day to day class of lost souls who wish they were dependent on the state but are disadvantaged by having all their limbs, lack of enthusiasm to put their hand into a punch press, or of the wrong sort of skin color to meet a quota. So, you can safely assume that the Have Pensions are steadily getting overtaken by No Have Pensions. You may also assume that the No Have Pensions do not much like the Have Pensions. If you are progressive, you can also gloat that the Have Pensions tend to have milky skins, and that all of the non milky imports (especially the 2012 voting citizen wave) will not much like the white racists they find here. The muddy waters will not much like the clear water upstream, so to speak. Which is to say that the number of voters willing to seize, tax, or dumb down pensions is on the rise. What you got now ain't what you gonna get. Fo'shizzle'dizzle. I have not touched on economic crisis, the tendency of leftist infiltrated pension funds to invest based on emotions (carbon credit backed equity? polar bear friendly shoes?) rather than, uh, reason. You can research that yourself.

All in all, you can ask your Ouiji board who is going to scoop your pension first: the gub'mint, as a way to level the playing field and find funds to pay for (insert cause here: my favorite is housing for the homeless); the angry always poor never workers as a way to keep themselves in entitlements (beer, cumin, and wide screen televisions from ages 25 to 80); the activists as a way to impress their bum buddies with the elasticity of their mouths over the truths of white privilege (girth and depth and liquid volume). Pension collectors are under attack, culturally, electorally, and financially. Best you check out the black market: it's good for a tax free income, but also a way to hide your assets from redistribution. The media sure as Che sells T-shirts will not explore this issue, you dirty rich white racist pension collecting scum.

Brownshirt Nation

Those wonderful activists, ability challenged and flamboyantly flying the flag of the Fruit Salad Nation of diversity, seem to have a monopoly on demonstrations, occupations, and riots. Failing to show up for the riot is the criticism leveled by some *, and, alas, it makes sense. Here in Canada we know that the bitch in the room gets the credit card, which is why the anchor of Confederation, Quebec, gets to slow down the ship of state, keep it close to the rocks, and maroon it in shallow waters; the sails which propel the ship (let us call them have provinces, say) only get attention when they threaten to rip. The call has come for more ripping. If you want to get the benefits of a bitch, be a bitch. If you do not want your scriptures mocked, do as the Religion of Peace does. The next time someone dips your rosary in urine, cut off his head. This calls for some head still attached to the neck thinking.

What does the word riot mean to you? While it is inevitable that the Red Star versus White Star riots are inevitable, I suspect that the timing is rather important. We are still burdened with the slow think advocates of the main stream media. They have a habit of taking most about anything (including the something the brighter ones can make up and not get caught at doing) into propaganda to support more taxes, more often. Sending in the brownshirts, while satisfying on a 'I lost my house to fifty percent taxation while the heroin addict down the street gets an in ground pool' level, as long as the Bolshevik-JournoLista media has control of the brain washing machine that is media, the unwashed proletarians (call them 'independents') will do as they are told to do. The proles are not motivated by reason; they never have. Their current nausea at the main stream media is more a subconscious rejection of the elites; it is not conscious. The Bolshevik-JournoLista elites control the media; the proles emote as they are told. So, why bother? Extinction of the state media is the final solution; but then again, none of this is in anyone's hands. The riots are coming. Stay away from crowds.

The lone wolf. Those lone wolves are out there. It does not matter what they actually believe, or how many thousands of pages they put into their manifesto, after they cook off, the diversity of state media will spin their bloody actions into a criticism of whatever is they do not like at the moment. If Andrew Berwick cooked off today, it would be because he was an advocate of the Keystone pipeline. Tomorrow, a critic of abortion. When the Obama voting N-people do their weekly raids into tax payer country, it is ignored. It is inevitable that some hypertensive yob, packing heat, spare mags, and cloudy judgement, will cut down some of the fatherless N-people. Then the riots will start, the politically correct police will do nothing but observe and respect. The proles will get a'feared. Then your Riots will start. This is inevitable, as surely as Obama will vacation twice a month. Why advocate the inevitable? Better to keep a full tank of gas in your escape vehicle; some camping gear, and scout for places of refuge. Let the urban tax payers who vote Red-Orange-Green suffer the consequences of their sticky diet of white guilt. They will anyway.

What, me remember?

O the spectacle worthy of the dead Romans that is the forked tongued progressives making wonder of the glorious dead. For days now they have openly worn plastic poppies upon their plastic souls. Now it is passed, they can shed their fashionable false skin and return true to their false nature. Not the red poppy; the red star. Our Canadian military men are only welcome in our tax spender cities and suburbs one day a year. I ask you, when are the many military men ever welcome in their uniforms on other times of the year? Did you count the multitude in downtown Toronto wearing poppies? Away from the bread and circus state media, I only counted one in twenty. I forgot it was Remembrance Day. In my youth, everybody wore them. It was more like Halloween for all the few wearing those red badges. What?, I said when I was reminded after the sun had set, What, me remember?

Horoscope for the full moon of November 10, 2011

Today is the day of the full moon. Big deal, the doubters amongst you will smirk. Indeed, astrology is mocked, ignored by research and the scientists guild. I presume they are too busy whoring after Global Warming money in a way reminiscent of the pre-Reformation * clergy after Indulgence * coin. Such progressive minds, seeing consensus, even as they live far away from the squalid hives * they have created and ignore. This full moon is in the sign of Taurus, a place pleasing to the Moon. It opposes the Sun in Scorpio. Off the cuff, it is good for the mob of humanity, bringing the warrior Scorpion down upon the heads of those that vex them. False clerics, usurpers, and robber barons are exposed, in public places, like farm fields or gibbets. Vengeful Scorpio is distracted from their personal pleasures of lusts, gluttony, and earthly gain to attend the peoples business. How will this affect you?

Activist versus Activist

Teachers are in the vanguard of our progressive struggle to socially re-engineer society into a form free of racism, sexism, and classism *. There are a whole bunch of isms that I, evil white male that I am, I cannot keep up. My invisible potato masher of white privilege prevents me from making the liver and lima bean salad of diversity, I guess. Anyway, the ability to identify bad isms and correct the mind of youth is in the care of our teaching profession. They are selected by criteria free of the taint of ability, trained in things other than teaching methods, and hired by the cherry pickers method to fill slots based on skin color, gender, and sexual orientation parallel to the thrust lines of progressive emotion. So, I vomit when I read in the Red Star that some of our teachers are racists *. Do read the article.

As an evil white man, I will, in all due respect to the suppression of freedom of speech, not say anything in a public forum. In private, sure. Here, no. Instead I will just laugh.

For further study, try this article where feminist denounces feminist * . Do read the comments, and tremble progressive and bourgeois feminists. The Red revolution eats its children, er, aborts them in the fourth trimester.

Fat Bastard Socialism

I was shocked to see the state media uproar over a hockey announcer being offered an honorary degree at Canada's token military university, RMC *. I was astounded to learn that some of the faculty at RMC were offended, fat bastard socialist style, at such a controversial figure as a television commentator would be given a degree. Faculty at a military college? Activists? Fat bastard socialists?

Horoscope for the week of November 6, 2011

At long last, Neptune goes direct. It moves forward towards the sign it rules, Pisces. This is not that important, as most things Pisces occur in the subconscious; things just happen, so to speak. However, as this is the transition century into the Age of Aquarius, this is also the first time that Neptune (the ruler of the previous age, the Age of Pisces) gets a kick at the can after running things for two thousand years. Which is to say, this is a transit of settling accounts, a very Pisces thing to do. Instead of the usual hundred year window, there are two thousand years of accounting to be made to the heavenly powers that keep track of such things. You may correctly assume that aberrant Pisces energies will get put in check by the new Emperor in Supreme City; and healthy Pisces energies will get to focus on the matter at hand, and not get pulled into politics. Reformers will appear, and have their effects correctly localized; Heretics and Frauds will be put down more by the internet than by Inquisitors; and Skeptics will be challenged by new technology and innovations. This sea change occurs on the tenth of November, and the transit makes its official debut on February 4th of 2012.

Hear no Evil, See no Evil, Collect No Pension

The Greek Socialist Leader, what's his name, sure is in the papers a lot lately. He is a great guy. He is a socialist. And when you read that he is a bad guy, they do not mention he is a socialist. You can be a Fat Bastard, you can be a socialist, but never at the same time. It is a law of Global Warming science. And no mention of how this will affect your pension. Pensions are guaranteed, so why worry?

Luncheon with the Misanthrope

I was having lunch with the Misanthrope when the news of the Greek referendum came in. One of my loyal readers had texted me, gloating, his expectation of some cunning on the part of the cunning Greeks vindicated. I shared the news with the Misanthrope. We were eating in a black market establishment here in London Ontario. This place does not collect taxes, nor does it pay them. The foodstuffs come direct from the farm, untouched by incompetent government inspectors. But that is a story for another post. Instead, I wish to share with you the opinions of the Misanthrope.