Category: Humour

Helplessly Hovering

                            Two flew over Belarus

Richard Spencer’s experience of being fated to a ride a ski-lift to its conclusion in highly uncomfortable company prompts a story of my own fate on the chair.

In Richard’s case, fate had him stuck next to one Randy Scheunemann. Despite the discomfort, it was instructive (for me, anyway) to learn who this man was - an insider neo-con, influential during the W. Bush Administration and in fact, a member of Project For A New American Century, a.k.a., Operation Clean Break (to secure the ‘realm’ around Israel). Scheunmann was one of its loud voices advocating all of its wars and military operations going on behalf of Israel, using The U.S. and any other nation it could press into its service. But once out of a job with the “neo-cons” out of office, there he was, helplessly hovering, captive with an enemy.

My own experience in the fate of helplessly hovering did not have me placed in the company of an enemy, but with a man who was on amicable terms, could have been a good friend. Instead I ruined his day and caused a very uncomfortable, seemingly endless ski-lift ride to the top of Aspen Mountain. As this particular episode did not highlight the large fall of a once prominent man, but the pathetic bungling of normal relations, I intend to examine rather what I believe to be a non-trivial aspect – and that is the connection of fate. It is not my purpose to state that I have anything like a sufficient explanation yet for the meaning of fate. Rather, that I am compelled to believe in its more or less possibility – whereas I had not, and would not take the notion of fate seriously prior to experiences which I will recount.

Hovering with (people who should be) friends – a different kind of fate, the fate of a non-snob. Hovering with what should be friends above, friends below, friends on the level and not realizing who were and who were not friends - with bad effect.

Unlike Richard Spencer, I have been skiing exactly twice in my life. The first time was in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Having taken my ski lessons and mastered what was called “the intermediate slope” quite handily, I developed a bit of hubris in my ability – at least for the intermediate slope. I tried the advanced slope once and could not even stand before falling and being jettisoned downward. Nevertheless, even little kids were whisking down past me and I could not believe how they did it – I only realized that I could not handle the advanced slope.

Satisfied nevertheless, I returned to my hostel that evening (but did of course I see an interracial couple on the way, in case anyone believes New Hampshire is immune). One of the townies was there talking about how he advocated Pat Buchanan, who was running for Presidency (was that the year he had a Negro running mate? Perhaps); it struck me as strange for a kid that young to be promoting Pat (whom I never thought to be very good - “rather than ‘the sewer of multiculturalism’ all Americans should integrate as English speaking Christians” - good thinking, Pat. No wonder the mainstream media kept you around as a convenient foil all those years), but I appreciated his defiant conservatism. New Hampshire was one of the few places where Buchanan could win. Fate was kicking in, the trance recollections before and during my recent trip to Europe from which I’d just returned were prompting me..

There were some English skiers there at the hostel. A couple of young lads and an older English gent there solo. I could not forget his name, as it was Hamilton. We talked candidly about race. He expressed his admiration at how Germany had built their country right back up after World War II. When discussing the problems of our respective European nationalities, he gritted his teeth and said, “Jews!” I was not ready to go there. I still needed to hold breadth that this may be in some part, if not primarily a distraction from deeper issues. It was probably not in that moment but somewhere in that evening that I felt myself being aware that I was outside of my normal consciousness, castigating (laced with the vilest profanity) the girls running the hostel, one from France in particular, for being a nation of feminist bitches. They apparently understood that this was a trance as they calmly instructed me the next morning that I had to visit North Hampton - as I had told them that they were going to tell me to go to North Hampton in the next few days to meet my fate among the greatest concentration of lesbians in The U.S., North Hampton being the proximity of two of America’s most prestigious women’s colleges – Smith and Mount Holyoke.

The parting with Mr. Hamilton did not go as I might have liked. It was clear that we were both dearly committed to defending Europe against liberalism and non-Europeans. I had told him in the trance state the evening before that you can trust a man if you can look him dead in the eye and he does not look away. The next morning Mr. Hamilton had a big smile on his face as he saw me (my trances always seemed to have a healing effect on people); we shook hands in parting, he looked me dead in the eye; but I turned my eyes away and a puzzled frown came across his face. Though I regret making myself didactically untrustworthy in that instant, I know now that I did that because I did not yet know enough to express full enough agreement with him. That day, Hamilton, a Thomas Hamilton rather, massacred school children in Dunblane, Scotland. So it must have been the 13th of March 1996.


Hubris meets Nemesis

My hubris in prevailing over the intermediate slope of the White Mountains is humbled by the Nemesis of Aspen’s “intermediate” slope.

The next and last time I went skiing was in March again, four years later, in 2000, a few weeks after my father passed away. I had to drive his car from New Jersey to my brother in Arizona. On the way I decided to try skiing again – this time in Aspen, Colorado, on Aspen Mountain precisely. I must have made an awkward sight in my Carhartt pants amidst all other people equipped in proper skiing attire. But such was my hubris, I had mastered the intermediate slopes in The White Mountains. I could do this, just as I am. I rented my skis, took a day pass and hopped on the ski-lift next to a guy maybe around my age, late 30’s, obviously a nice guy – as one who clearly had experience, he nevertheless told me not to worry about my pants; and gave me some tips; to watch what other people were doing and encouraged me to have fun. We proceeded to talk and he said that he enjoyed hot air balloon racing.

I quickly chimed in with the story of the two balloonists who had accidentally drifted over Belarus the prior September, only to be shot as helpless sitting ducks. As I recounted the story to him, I did what many of you would do - I laughed, because it was so ridiculous and pathetic: the thought of these two sitting ducks, helplessly hovering there, American passports in hand, pathetically shot down as they dangled above the doltish force of nature that is a neo-Soviet mentality.

My raucous, cynical humor was not well placed. A sudden pained expression came over his face. “These were my friends” he said..



Posted by DanielS on Monday, December 15, 2014 at 04:03 AM in ActivismAnti-racism and white genocideAwakeningsHumour
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Letter To Brezhnev


Posted by DanielS on Sunday, November 16, 2014 at 10:36 AM in European cultureEuropean NationalismEuropean UnionFeminismHumourImmigration and PoliticsLiberalism & the LeftMarxism & Culture WarMediaPopular CultureSocial liberalism
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Key issues

Dr. Graham Lister:

Perhaps the key issues are actually these ones:

“Where is the life we have lost in living? Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?” (T.S. Eliot)

Tob Shebbe Goyim Harog Eli:

Ugh, dry bread; where’s the honey? In the bottle stolen by the bunny. I can’t eat this, this isn’t funny. Not my fault, we’re out of money.

Whereas in Tel Aviv on a day sunny, cavorting with 9-year-old Russian Kenny, ponders gluttonous Abe from Albany, “lethal injection I’d be facing on the gurney, if there were just desserts for larceny, but here I salivate over counting shekels, watching the goyim fall for our blarney.”


Posted by R-news on Friday, January 13, 2012 at 11:54 PM in HumourThat Question Again
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But was it national, foreign national or international?

This explains.

Posted by Guessedworker on Monday, January 17, 2011 at 09:23 AM in Humour
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The eschatology of domestic refrigeration in modern America

by PF


In a few weeks thousands of people will gather in New York to celebrate the passing of another year. Thousands of confused people, joining together to recognize the passing of 2010. In some way, it is still the end of a century. We wave goodbye to the 20th century and welcome in the 21st. When that sphere touches the pavement, it will signal to us the onset of a new era. We hope its an era where our peoples receive acknowledgement of what we have to do to remain what we are. Time will tell.

Kievsky’s blog had an article mentioning high-fructose corn-syrup, which as far as I can tell, seems to play a central role in modernity, particularly the large rolls of fat which envelop modern persons. They say that if you throw an average American into a large vat full of corn-syrup, that he will free himself by consuming all of it. Anecdotally, this is what happens even if the lid of the vat is low enough to allow escape.

People’s body shapes tend to change with the times. In the old days of classic 50s civilization, men had little pouches of fat on their stomaches. Perhaps these men were 10 pounds overweight or 20 pounds on average. The pouch was small enough to contain a 1 L jar of marbles. The pouch began to extend through the 70s until 1985, becoming too prominent to be sucked in anymore. The pouch had now become a proper belly, and signified about 30 pounds of excess weight. Going into the 90s the belly began to extend into other body-areas, subsuming what were previously separate structures. It used to be easy to tell, for example, where someone’s belly ended and their legs began. There was also a clear line of demarcation between ‘belly’ and ‘chest’.


But as the 90s rolled on, it became more and more difficult to tell what was legs and what was belly. Because at a certain point the belly starts hanging and overtakes the groin area,  and in persons who are 50 pounds overweight, the belly, groin and upper legs fuse into a one big flabby region that is no longer clearly demarcated. The belly was on the move, and not only downwards. Its roundness began to take over what had previously been ‘chest’, to the point where it became difficult to tell where people’s abdomen’s would be. The ‘chest’ began to take on some of the bulk that was creeping up from beneath.


Posted by Guest Blogger on Thursday, October 28, 2010 at 06:17 PM in Humour
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Oulialia, or how not to dispel preconceived ideas

I have absolutely no idea what is going on here.  But according to the BBC it’s about liberating Lithuanian blonde girls from the prejudices of others.

A Lithuanian company plans to set up a holiday island in the Maldives run entirely by blondes - the latest project in a growing blonde movement in the Baltics. But how legitimate is this latest sign of Baltic blonde ambition?

What do you call a blonde who runs a business? A dab hand at marketing, if she comes from Lithuania.

Blondes in the Baltics have had enough of the jokes about being dumb. Now they want to show they are smarter than the gags make out, with a growing blonde business empire.

But they succeeded only in making me more “prejudiced” than ever.

Posted by Guessedworker on Saturday, October 2, 2010 at 09:09 AM in Humour
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Is it too much?


Posted by Søren Renner on Monday, September 20, 2010 at 07:40 PM in Humour
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I nose who you are

Why haven’t we seen the horizontal transmission of Jews into the Far East?


Posted by Dasein on Tuesday, July 20, 2010 at 04:33 PM in HumourJewish Diaspora
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Sun Safety Tips

As the sunburn season approaches, please consider the health benefits of becoming a summertime Neonazi.


Posted by Dasein on Wednesday, June 9, 2010 at 05:21 AM in Humour
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Oil And Water Must Mix!!!

Or, How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Embrace The Ocean’s New Diversity’

by The Narrator

The symbolism in the gulf oil deluge is profound. Greedy corporations willing to do anything to increase their profit margins unleash a natural substance into another natural substance, causing a catastrophe of near Armageddon-like proportions.

The similarity to immigration (both legal and illegal) is obvious.  The sad irony is that everyone acknowledges that the corporations which run this world, care little for it. And that they will do or say anything to turn a profit.

Take this piece by the New York Times very own black columnist: is it possible for anyone with any reasonable awareness of the nonstop carnage that has accompanied the entire history of giant corporations to believe that the oil companies, which are among the most rapacious players on the planet, somehow “had their act together” with
regard to worst-case scenarios.

These are not Little Lord Fauntleroys who can be trusted to abide by some fanciful honor system. These are greedy merchant armies drilling blindly at depths a mile and more beneath the seas while at the same time doing all they can to stifle the government oversight that is necessary to protect
human lives and preserve the integrity of the environment.

President Obama knows that. He knows — or should know — that the biggest, most powerful companies do not have the best interests of the American people in mind when they are closing in on the kinds of profits that ancient kingdoms could only envy. BP’s profits are counted in the billions annually. They are like stacks and stacks of gold glittering beneath a brilliant sun. You don’t want to know what people will do for that kind of money.


Posted by Guest Blogger on Monday, May 31, 2010 at 06:14 PM in Humour
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The Horde’s Prayer

by sirrealpolitik



New immigrants who art in Africa,
hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done
In Manchester as it is in Monrovia.
Give us this day our anchor baby,
and forgive us not for slavery, nor the holocaust,
as we forgive thee who trample us.
Lead us not towards one iota of resistance.
Nay, deliver us from all kinship ties.
For thine is our kingdom,
and the power, and the glory,
for ever and ever.

Posted by Guest Blogger on Tuesday, May 4, 2010 at 02:46 PM in Humour
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Humour and the English Disease

If Majority Rights can be said to have a defining characteristic, then that would have to be the earnestness of its contributors and commentariat. That observation is not intended in a pejorative sense, indeed many blogs with a political orientation share that characteristic. What is somewhat perplexing though is the extent to which (over-)earnestness prevails, given the nationality of its proprietor and a goodly proportion of its readership.

This particular exegesis has been prompted by an exchange in a currently-running marathon thread in which the topic of British humour was briefly introduced. This involved two estimable contributors, neither of whom are English, as far as I aware, who raised cogent points about its psychological interpretation. So, rather than creating an unnecessary diversion I have attempted to provide some minor insight into that question here, and perhaps stimulate some lively debate in the process.

British humour or, more precisely, its English strain, is a peculiar beast, often mystifying to continentals and colonials alike. For the latter, exposure to the genre has consisted in the main of an unleavened diet of Benny Hill and Monty Python, both of which were correctly viewed as being untranslatable yet superficially accessible exemplars of broad slapstick and high pantomime, respectively. Most other offerings along the wide spectrum of English comedy, from the likes of ‘Til Death Us Do Part’ to ‘The Office’, when not confined to cultural ghettos such as PBS and BBC America, have had to be ‘localized’ to render them palatable to a mainstream audience. Some (much?) English humour is neither translatable nor transportable, especially that which is really critical social commentary or touches on awkward sensibilities.

An example of the latter can be seen in the following clip from the hugely popular ‘Spitting Image’ series. Many will be familiar with a similar parody from Monty Python in which Mr. Hilter together with chums Reggie Goering and Heinrich Bimmler are discovered in a Cornish boarding-house planning for a surreptitious invasion of the resort-town of Minehead. But the encounter here between Frau-Führerchen Thatcher and Herr von Wilcox is much darker in tone and typical of the Spitting Image oeuvre, being by design overtly political, borderline libelous and often, as here, merciless to sacred cows. To my knowledge Spitting Image has never found an audience in the US and is still unavailable on home video there.

Sound Advice from Herr von Wilcox



Posted by Dan Dare on Saturday, March 6, 2010 at 03:18 PM in Humour

Sarko gains another convert.


... Or, “Burkha me, it’s got a beard”

DUBAI (AFP) – An Arab ambassador called off his wedding after discovering his wife-to-be, who had worn a face-covering veil whenever they met, was bearded and cross-eyed, the Gulf News reported Wednesday.

The envoy had only met the woman a few times, during which she had hidden her face behind a niqab, or facecovering veil, the paper said.

After the marriage contract was signed, the ambassador attempted to kiss his bride-to-be, upon which he discovered she had facial hair and was cross-eyed, it said.

The ambassador told an Islamic Sharia court in the United Arab Emirates that he was tricked into the marriage as the woman’s mother had shown his own mother pictures of her sister instead of her, the report said.

He sued for the contract to be annulled and also demanded the woman pay him 500,000 dirhams ($136,000) for clothes, jewelry, and other gifts he had bought for her.

The court annulled the contract but rejected the ambassador’s demand for compensation.

Posted by Guessedworker on Thursday, February 11, 2010 at 11:30 AM in Humour
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Still not en vogue

According to Hannah Pool at The Guardian, this is an example of offensive black face intended to equate black skin with ‘exotic otherness’.


Posted by Dasein on Thursday, October 15, 2009 at 05:35 PM in HumourPopular Culture
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Göring, Goebbels, Hitler, ... Thilo Sarrazin?

The Turks are conquering Germany exactly as the Kosovars conquered Kosovo: through a higher birth rate.  I would like it, if it were Eastern European Jews with a 15% higher IQ than the native Germans.—Thilo Sarrazin, SPD politician and board member of the German Central Bank, from an interview in current issue of Lettre International

I have the impression that with his ideas, Sarrazin is paying his respects to Göring, Goebbels, and Hitler.—Stephan Kramer, General Secretary of the Council of German Jews

Surely, Herr Kramer has also spotted the subtle variation on the Kühnen-Gruß:


Posted by Dasein on Monday, October 12, 2009 at 02:55 PM in HumourImmigrationThat Question Again
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Tough choice

This ...


is Eva-Britt Svensson ... not Kafka’s pin-up but a Swedish Member of the European Parliament who serves on the Committee on Women’s Gender and Equality Rights.  The Committee is seeking a Europe-wide ban on advertising which features exiguously dressed women possessed of that quality once known as “it”.

Today Ms Svensson is reported to have said:-

“Gender stereotyping in advertising straitjackets women, men, girls and boys by restricting individuals to predetermined and artificial roles that are often degrading, humiliating and dumbed down for both sexes.”

“Gender stereotyping in advertising is one of several factors that have a big influence in efforts to make society more gender equal. When women and men are portrayed in a stereotypical way the consequence may be that it becomes difficult in other contexts to see women and men’s resources and abilities.”

And this ...


is Eva Herzigová pictured out of her straitjacket.  Miss Herzigová‘s “resources and abilities” include making such observations as:-

“History is the key to everything: politics, religion, even fashion.”

So be honest now.  Which of these statements would you prefer to discuss?  With the speaker in person, of course.

Posted by Guessedworker on Friday, September 5, 2008 at 06:49 PM in Humour
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Bethlehem by Liverpool and Gravesend

From The Guardian

Miracle on Merseyside - Liverpool remakes the nativity

The Virgin Mary comes from Knotty Ash, one of the angels used to be in Brookside, and Herod is a woman.

This version of the Christmas story, to be played out on the streets in the centre of Liverpool and broadcast live on BBC3 tomorrow night, has a cast of 300, including the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra, a technical crew of 150 and is produced by the BBC team responsible for last year’s Manchester Passion.

... After discussions with the Bishop of Liverpool, the Rt Rev James Jones, the script’s writer Mark Davies Markham has modernised the traditional story. Mary, lacking both the traditional blue robe and halo, wipes tables in a Seaforth cafe. Joseph is an asylum seeker commanded to go to Liverpool to renew his visa. Herod is a woman and the shepherds are both homeless and sheepless. But there will still be a star and three magi for the show.

“The traditional story is so familiar that it can just wash over you,” said Markham. “I wanted it still to be familiar but to help people look at it in a different way. If they see it in terms of hope for humanity, that would be good.”

... Mary (Jodie McNee), a virgin who has been saving herself for when the time is right, is a bit surprised but tells Joseph (Kenny Thompson) “it’s the Lord’s baby, it’s sent by the Holy Spirit”. Joseph is unimpressed and angry.

“You’re just having a bit of a domestic,” explains director Noreen Kershaw as Joseph launches into There She Goes by The La’s.

Joseph heads across the river to the passport office. Mary follows on to the ferry and they sing Comedy from The Shack’s 1999 album HMS Fable. When Jesus is born, they duet on Beautiful Boy, written originally for the son of John Lennon rather than the Son of God.

“It’s a brilliant story to tell,” said McNee, whose previous Christmas performances include a role as a turkey in a school play. “It’s about community and loving generosity and about accepting people.”

The man’s a spiritual chav*.

But wait ... from a blog named Stuart’s Short Trousers (with thanks to Troy Southgate for the link):-


Posted by Guessedworker on Friday, December 14, 2007 at 08:17 PM in Humour

Pythons among the mannequins

Devon, that English county of idyllic villages, haunting sea-cliffs and wild, empty moorland, might not seem at first to be a cauldron of white racism (is there any other kind?).  But that’s all wrong.  We racist whites simply lack the insightful wisdom and beautiful souls of those good men and women of the Rural Racism Project, south-west.

Soon after the publication of the Inquiry report into the death of Stephen Lawrence, the Monitoring Group began to receive an almost daily torrent of calls from black and ethnic minority people living in rural areas. The experience of the callers was similar. They had been subject to racist abuse on a daily basis, sometimes for many years, and despite reporting their suffering they had received no support from anyone. It was almost as if the needs of the BME population in these rural had been abandoned.

...  The Rural Racism Project, based in Plymouth, aims to pioneer a range of specialist services to meet the needs of those living in predominately rural areas who are distressed or are suffering because they have been victims of racial violence, abuse, or harassment within their local community. The project will be used to provide and deliver a unique, innovative and radical region-wide programme of ‘racist incident victim support services’ for individuals, families and isolated community groups situated within the geographical counties of Cornwall, Devon, Dorset and Somerset, including those districts administered by single unitary authorities.

The Project is based in Plymouth and covers the areas of Cornwall, Devon, Somerset and Dorset.

And this ... is what ... they do:-

‘Racism’ protests over the high street hanging black mannequins

A chain of fashion stores has been accused of racism over a window display of black mannequins hanging from the ceiling.  Branches of All Saints are featuring headless dummies, with chains attached to the neck, dangling with their feet a few inches off the floor.

Police arrived at one branch, in Exeter, to investigate claims that the display was offensive and the Rural Racism Project says it has been “inundated” with complaints calling for it to be removed.

Spokesman John McKenzie said: “These disturbing displays are reminiscent of the Ku Klux Klan and the lynching of black people in America.  The chains used to hang the mannequins also bring to mind slavery and some of the complainants have commented on this.  The overall effect is extremely ominous.

“It is unacceptable and we have received many calls from both black and white people who find it offensive.  But the retailer’s attitude has been that the stores are all making a profit, therefore it cannot be offending too many people.”

A spokesman for All Saints confirmed that the display was used at 28 of its 29 stores nationwide.

She added: “The models are not black – they are grey.

Well, quite.  Or as John Cleese once said, “This is an ex-parrot .”

Posted by Guessedworker on Monday, October 29, 2007 at 07:09 PM in Humour
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Oddo’s Bodkin: Or, not to mince words.

A strange wind is blowing from Norway….New York City Councilman James Oddo will have none of it.

Posted by Søren Renner on Wednesday, October 10, 2007 at 10:40 AM in Humour
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Cool videos

A contributor wants to add a bunch of videos, to be served from MR. I need to test some options.


Posted by J Richards on Saturday, September 8, 2007 at 07:18 AM in Humour
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Honour thy father

Some silly conservatives talk about there once having been a Golden Age of morals. This is nonsense of course, as any Phd in dialectical sociology or contemporary feminist thought knows. Such absolute nonsense in fact that, just to prove what nonsense it is, I’ve decided to look for examples of that ol’ time morality today.

Looking down the Ten Commandments, I discarded the first four as being to do with God, or G-d, or Shiva, or non-culturally specific, non-judgemental deity of your choice. Then we had number five: honour thy father and thy mother. So, I went to google, typed in father and the name of the first pop artist that lept to mind, to discover some modern parable of reverence for the past generations.

Here it is, children:

Keith Richards says he snorted father’s ashes

LONDON - Keith Richards has acknowledged consuming a raft of illegal substances in his time, but this may top them all.

In comments published Tuesday, the 63-year-old Rolling Stones guitarist said he had snorted his father’s ashes mixed with cocaine.

“The strangest thing I’ve tried to snort? My father. I snorted my father,” Richards was quoted as saying by British music magazine NME.

Now, two thoughts occur. One, did he just have a puff, or did he ‘swallow’? And secondly, how many young people take this travelling circus seriously when they come out with stuff like this.

Posted by Alex Zeka on Wednesday, April 4, 2007 at 06:04 PM in Humour
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Another leak from the Home Office.  Maybe.

Memo from the office of the Home Secretary,

To: Liam Byrne, Minister of State, Immigration

Date 7th March, 2007

My dear Liam,

Another bloody awful day, don’t you think?  As if I hadn’t had enough of them already!

Under the circumstances, then, I thought it best not to text you with this question: Which one of your brilliant minions dreamt up this garbage?  For God’s sake, Liam:-

Labour will get tough on illegal immigrants - by sending them text messages begging them to go home.

Under desperate plans to clear a backlog of 600,000 cases, their driving licences could also be cancelled.

This was just giving Davis an open goal - which, needless to say, he did not miss:-

Shadow Home Secretary David Davis said: “This is a serious admission of defeat. John Reid is effectively giving up on trying to deport the hundreds of thousands of illegal immigrants in this country, preferring instead to spam them with text messages.

“As for removing driving licences, does he really believe that a person who is prepared to live in a country illegally is that concerned about having the correct qualifications to drive in that country?

“Yet again we see another pathetic attempt to grab a headline rather than address a problem.

“Instead of spin and bluster from ministers, the public deserve effective action.”


Posted by Guessedworker on Wednesday, March 7, 2007 at 08:25 PM in Humour
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Cognitive elitism ... but at what cost?

Condoms designed to meet international size specifications are too big for many Indian men as their penises fall short of what manufacturers had anticipated, an Indian study has found.

The Indian Council of Medical Research, a leading state-run center, said its initial findings from a two-year study showed 60 percent of men in the financial capital Mumbai had penises about 2.4 cm (one inch) shorter than those condoms catered for.

For a further 30 percent, the difference was at least 5 cm (two inches).

From Reuters.

So how does the James Bond of Bangladesh cut such a deadly swathe through blonde California?  Obviously not by stealing the delicious if brunette Lana Wood’s line from Diamonds Are Forever: “Hi, I’m Plenty ... Plenty O’Toole”.

But enough of that.  This is a serious blog.  So, erm ... would Phil Rushton agree that Nature’s dispensation of wedding tackle in downtown Mumbai runs counter to r-K?

Posted by Guessedworker on Friday, December 8, 2006 at 04:01 PM in Humour
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No Miah culpa for killing “only a bird”.

Stories that begin with the words, “You couldn’t make this up,” abound, I know.  But this one has that extra something: swanism. 

It began when a gentleman whose home overlooked West Shore boating pool in the seaside town of Llandudno, North Wales looked out of his window and:-

saw Miah, a former restaurant owner who came to Britain from Bangladesh 40 years ago, rolling around on the grass with the swan’s wing on the ground next to him.

The alarmed gentleman called the police who duly arrived to find 52-year-old Shamshu Miah with blood on his clothes and feathers in his beard.

They confronted Bangladeshi-born Miah, who told the police: “I am a Muslim, I am fasting, I had to eat.

“I was hungry, I had to eat the swan. I killed it, I stabbed it.

“I did nothing wrong, it was just a bird, I needed to eat.”

It is forbidden for Muslims to eat during daylight hours over the Islamic month of Ramadan.

One of the officers told Miah it was illegal to kill a swan because it was the property of the Queen, to which Miah replied: “I hate the Queen, I hate this country.”

Psychiatric reports indicated Miah was not mentally ill at the time of the attack.  But we must be, to abide with Miah for 40 years.

Posted by Guessedworker on Thursday, November 23, 2006 at 03:46 AM in Humour
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“Kramer’s” Racist Tirade—Caught on Tape

Michael Richards exploded in anger as he performed at a famous L.A. comedy club last Friday, hurling racial epithets that left the crowd gasping, and TMZ has obtained exclusive video of the ugly incident.

Richards, who played the wacky Cosmo Kramer on the hit TV show “Seinfeld,” appeared onstage at the Laugh Factory in West Hollywood. Kyle Doss, an African-American, told TMZ he and some friends were in the cheap seats and he was playfully heckling Richards when suddenly, the comedian lost it.

The camera started rolling just as Richards began his attack, screaming at one of the men, “Fifty years ago we’d have you upside down with a f***ing fork up your ass.”

Richards continued, “You can talk, you can talk, you’re brave now motherf**ker. Throw his ass out. He’s a nigger! He’s a nigger! He’s a nigger! A nigger, look, there’s a nigger!”

The crowd is visibly and audibly confused and upset. Richards responds by saying, “They’re going to arrest me for calling a black man a nigger.”

I haven’t seen the video yet.  I’ll update this post as I get new info.  (I’ve yet to confirm rumors that Richards was responding to being called a cracker, or that he told the negros “that’s what happens when you interrupt a white man”)

Update: Richards is a Jew:
Richards apologizes, hires crisis expert

Michael Richards is taking his contriteness to the next level: he’s hired a public relations expert with deep contacts in the black community.

New York publicist Howard Rubenstein took on Richards as a client Wednesday after being contacted by the actor-comedian. He then arranged for Richards to call the Revs.
Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton.

As for reports that Richards shouted out anti-Semitic remarks during another standup comedy routine in April, Rubenstein confirmed his client did, but that he was only role-playing.

“He’s Jewish. He’s not anti-Semitic at all. He was role-playing, he was playing a part. He did use inappropriate language, but he doesn’t have any anti-Semitic feelings whatsoever,” Rubenstein said.

Posted by Svyatoslav Igorevich on Monday, November 20, 2006 at 06:33 PM in HumourPopular Culture
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