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(previously published on Blogcritics)
If you, faithful reader, knew nothing about Britain and went by what you read in the current headlines over here, you might very well conclude that the neglect, beating, torture and even killing of young children was as much a British tradition as high tea.
We have the recent case of the single mother whose two young boys died in a house fire that they may have inadvertently started. It is quite likely that she was too stoned out of her gourd to properly supervise them. Their mom, you see, loved to party which didn't leave much time for parenting. She was arrested on suspicion of manslaughter and child neglect.
Next we have the case of the mother who drowned her four-year-old daughter because she, the "mom," was embarrassed by her cerebral palsy. Another mother killed her two sons in order to better love herself. Well, that's what she told the police. She is, obviously, currently being assessed in a mental health facility.
In 2007, a "mother" by the name of Karen Matthews organized a kidnap of her schoolgirl daughter Shannon by the uncle of her live-in partner. The live-in partner, incidentally, a retarded-looking lowlife by the name of Craig Meehan, was prosecuted for possessing child pornography soon after the kidnap story broke.
I'll give you just one more example, but this one is the most galling and most disturbing of them all. A 16-month-old child, known to us only by the name Baby P, was routinely beaten and eventually killed by his mother's boyfriend and the couple's lodger. Baby P's mother now brags confidently that she'll be out of jail by Christmas. Despite the baby's horrific injuries, social workers kept accepting the mother's lies about how the toddler incurred them. A 15-year-old who lived in the house, but was too scared to come forward before now, has revealed the full horror behind the child's torment and eventual death. It makes for gut-wreching, stomach-turning reading.
What really boils my blood is that these people will not know anything approaching the terror that the infant routinely felt during his 16 short months of life, unless they receive vigilante action by fellow inmates in prison, which I most sincerely hope they do. They certainly won't be put to death by the legal system, as they should be, as Britain abolished capital punishment in 1964.
Now, the question for you, dear reader, is this: How on earth does a mother kill her children "in order to better love herself"? How on earth can any parent think it's alright to party till the small hours when she's got two kids to look after? How does a mother fake the kidnapping of her daughter simply for attention or for greedy purposes? And how does an infant boy get treated so viciously, for so long?
The answer: We permit morons to breed. Plain and simple. We are allowing children to be born to people who—and I'm being kind here—are better off dead, because they barely have the brainpower and social skills necessary to conduct a transaction at the convenience store for their booze, cigarettes and lottery tickets (bought with welfare money, of course), never mind having and raising children. But have children they do and in ever-depressing numbers. And we allow it. Despite knowing what desultory sort of life these children must be leading, we continue to cling to the liberal notion of, "Well, we can't tell others how to live their lives."
We are talking about the third and fourth generations of violent layabouts being born to parents who were themselves the victims of hedonistic, immoral, alcoholic, drug-addled cretins with no sense of social responsibility whatsoever. And this is why children are being neglected, tortured and/or killed everyday across Britain and why the cycle will simply continue, because we aren't sterilizing these wastes of space and resources as we should be doing.
Daily Mail columnist Richard Littlejohn nails it perfectly when he writes, as he did on November 14: "Britain seems to have cornered the market in welfare layabouts, drug addicts, feral gangs of obese children and hideous, drunken scrubbers, littering the gutters of even our more genteel suburbs. The women are the worst of the lot, giving birth to a procession of bay-bees by different, transient fathers and expecting—nay, being encouraged by—the state to pay for their upbringing."
And there you have it. Decent, hard-working people, who so often cannot afford to raise more than one child of their own, have to support the ever-growing underclass of imbecilic filth who can have as many children they like, most of whom would have to consider themselves lucky if they make it past the age of 10.
Which, of course, according to public school education, is just the right age to start the next generation of scum. After all, they've long become a British tradition.
Apparently, sperm donations in Britain—and in London especially—have fallen so dramatically that it can be quantified as a critical shortage, and a radical overhaul of sperm donation services is required.
Now for the million-pound question: Why, exactly, is this a bad thing?
You only have to look around you at any point in the day or evening to conclude that Britain certainly does not, in any way classifiable or conceivable, have a fertility problem. Little buggers are everywhere, getting pushed along the sidewalks in their oversized prams by chain-smoking mamas or picking their noses as they waddle four-square along the sidewalks on the way to school.
I wonder if the freefall in sperm donations is in any way related to the fact that over 50 percent of British adults view children as "animals"? Which really distresses me as I consider that a grevious insult to animals.
Of course, mind you, I don't necessarily consider children on the same level as cockroaches, but all people in general. I found myself nodding solemnly while reading this column by Charlie Brooker, in which he opines: "Two's company. Three's a crowd. And whoever they are, I don't trust them. Yes, in the ever expanding list of things I don't 'get,' the most crippling entry has to be people. I don't get people. What's their appeal, precisely? They waddle around with their haircuts on, cluttering the pavement like gormless, farting skittles. They're awful."
Anyway, getting back to sperm donations, that's one thing that I've never gotten. Who in their right mind wants to consider the fact that somebody, somwhere, will be conceived carrying half their genes, possibly even their same facial features, hair and eye color, blood type and the same curious inability to not say "heeeellll, yeaaah!" at the end of every conversation? Honestly, who can be comfortable with the thought of spreading themselves around without even enjoying the so-called action? (Don't get me wrong: I'm very much a keep-it-in-your-pants sort of guy. I simply ask on a theoretical level.)
On a more serious note, sperm donation also encourages single motherhood. I cannot in all honesty say that I am a fan of that lifestyle. There is definitely a straightforward relationship between the "children are animals" sentiment and the emotional effects that single motherhood creates in a child who, through no choice of his or her own, has been denied the vital male influence.
The article cites the removal of anonymity in 2005 as the biggest reason for the nose-dive in sperm donations. In other words, once a child born in 2005 or after turns 18, they can chase their sperm donor down. This was just the sort of thing sperm donors never had to worry about in the past.
Which leaves me to conclude one salient point about all this: For once, this Labour government actually did something good. Only the sperm banks would disagree.
OK, if we could just move away from the subject of the Obama-nation that has occurred just for a bit, because there is, believe it or not, other news out there besides our rock-star of a messiah of a President-elect ...
I have never really liked Britain's celebrity chef Jamie Oliver—second only to Gordon Ramsay in terms of fame and notoriety—as this piece that I wrote many moons ago testifies. Mssr. Oliver really hit a low point when he slaughtered a live lamb on TV in 2005.
However, since that despicable incident I have slowly started liking Oliver a bit more and more. Earlier this year, Oliver highlighted just how terrible living conditions are for battery-reared poultry birds, and persuaded the supermarket chain Sainsbury's—for whom he's been doing television commercials for the past ten years—to stop selling poultry from battery farms and sell only free-range bird meat instead.
I also appreciate Oliver's ceaseless attempts to highlight the obesity crisis and how it's down to a real lack of education about food, and his demands for better food standards constitutes a noble cause. Mr. Oliver recently told a parliamentary inquiry that poor food standards are contributing to a real breakdown of family life and that the U.K. is heading for an obesity horror show. Mr. Oliver even linked the problem to working mothers who are too busy to feed their families and themselves properly. That took some guts in this politically correct, how-dare-you-say-that culture of ours, which, on that basis alone, wins him my admiration and respect.
"Health, obesity and education has struggled to be taken seriously for ten years, but I think it's a bloody emergency," Oliver told politicians at the inquiry. Oliver also asked of the government to consider putting a cap on the number of fast-food outlets in town centers. He's right. Take a walk down any main street in Britain, and you will be amazed at how many burger, kebab and fried chicken shops you'll encounter. There should be a limit on just how many of these joints are allowed to exist, and they should not be allowed to proliferate to the extent that they have.
I was thinking about all this the other day while waiting for my bus into work. A chubby man was there, sipping a regular, full-sugar Coke and smoking a cigarette. He then chucked the can over the wall—proving that those who don't care about themselves certainly do not care about the environment—and walked straight into the Morley's fried chicken establishment. This man represented everything that is wrong with contemporary lifestyles, especially in urban areas.
I am not an advocate for big government or the nanny state. Honestly, I'm not. However, I do think some sort of government intervention is necessary when the ignorance of people who just don't know any better is contributing to a public services emergency. I don't relish paying higher taxes to keep the NHS alive because the health service is being burdened by people who are ill simply from smoking too much, drinking too much, not getting enough (or any) exercise, and eating way too much fatty, nutrient-poor garbage.
Personally, I'd just exterminate people like this and be done with it. (Joke!) But seriously, unless we want to be regarded as no better than the Ba'athist regime we overthrew in Iraq, then we need to try other, far more milder tactics: Even higher taxes on tobacco products and strong booze; alcoholic drinks stronger than 3.5% by volume to be sold only in state-run shops as they do in Sweden; ban trans-fats; institute a cap on the number of fast-food joints for every square mile of urban area; and at least consider delivering a healthy eating pamphlet to every household, similar to the Home Information Packs that the government came out with last year.
If this seems too radical, then please tell me where it's written—anywhere—that liberty and democracy means being as corpulent and unhealthy as you please, placing a strain on public/social services and driving up health care premiums for people who actually deign to look after themselves.
Jamie Oliver warns of a "profound" health crisis if this issue of good food and health is not taken seriously.
"This isn't about fresh trainers (sneakers) or mobile phones or Sky (satellite) dishes or plasma TV screens—they've got all that. It is a poverty of being able to nourish their family, in any class," Oliver told politicians at the inquiry.
Godspeed, Jamie Oliver. The sooner you win your battle for nationwide healthy food standards, the better off we'll be.
While doing the dishes, a chore I loathe and so usually try to entertain myself while doing it, I made up the following scenario in my head:
Barack Obama addresses the crowd on Inauguration Day in January. He looks solemnly over the cheering audience and intones:
"Ladies and gentlemen, you voted for change. Change is paramount and will be an essential part of my administration. I solemnly promise to give you that change. But, first: Yo, hit that shit!"
Obama immediately launches into a rap:
"Barack Obama, that is my name
Celebratin' ma victory over John McCain
Proved to everyone that I was man, not mouse
Tell me everybody—who in da House?
Bush, yeah cuz, he won't be back.
I won the election 'cause I is black.
I gonna spend fo' years just spendin' and taxin'
And I gonna do it without first axin'.
Now break it down!"
Then Obama starts breakdancing and body-popping while the crowd goes wild.
Honestly, it's just the sort of thing In Living Color could've done.
If any of you out there wish to add to Barry's rap song, please feel free. Let's try to stretch that motha' out.
Americans voted for change, and—oh, boy!—they are about to get a big-time dose of it.
The Republicans brought this on themselves though. After promising, under their Contract With America, to be the frugal party, government expanded ten-fold—or so it seems—under Bush. It didn't help that the Iraq War did not go exactly as planned and that financial meltdown occurred during their tenure.
John McCain didn't help matters by taking on Sarah Palin as his running mate. She was just too controversial, and too much of a whack-job, to present to Americans as their would-be Vice President. I said it before and now I'll say it again: McCain should have picked Mitt Romney as his veep. That would have been one hell of a ticket.
But I still can't believe that people could pick an obvious socialist for their President. That just blows my mind.
If Obama stacks the Supreme Court with even just two or three judges (should that many retire) during his administration, the U.S. will be mainly Spanish-speaking and Muslim by 2030. A Republican president in 2012 may try to reverse the damage done by Barack Obama, but there's nothing that can be done about a Supreme Court packed with left-wing judges who think that America isn't redistributionist enough.
Our only hope is that Joe Biden will reign Obama in somewhat, to instruct him that he can't go as far with his plan for a socialist utopia as he'd like. But I wouldn't bet on it.
In the meantime, the American flags in my home are all going to be hung upside-down and they'll stay that way for at least the next four years. Hey, if the Bush-bashing pinkos could do it, so can I. Two can play at that game.
Bush wasn't their president. Well, Obama sure as hell isn't mine. Touché, motherf'ers.
My heartfelt thanks goes out to the 36 percent of Bay Staters who voted for McCain. It's a comfort to know even that many people in the People's Republic have brains and aren't afraid to use them. And, of course, thanks to everyone across the country who voted for keeping America safe and secure.
At least it was nice having a country I recognized while it lasted.
Apparently, Barack Obama wants to create five million "green jobs" in a massive $150 billion government project called the "Apollo project." I don't have a problem with green jobs. But I do have a problem with $150 billion of public money being used toward this purpose. I especially have a problem with the concept of Obama creating jobs in this case.
This is yet another example of Obama's socialist naïveté, and is wrong on three levels.
Firstly, one man—even the President—does not create jobs without that being an expansion of government, and, hence, government power.
Secondly, it's the marketplace that creates jobs that benefit society, not the Government. One man may create jobs, but this man will be a business owner who hires staff and pays them with private money. When the marketplace dictates the job market, taxes have no need to rise.
Third, you do not need a massive environmental project. All Obama needs to do for a sound environmental policy is to tell packagers and manufacturers to stop using superfluous plastic packaging, and, if they don't, to ban polypropelene packaging. (Note, dear reader, that I have not said ban polypropelene as a material.) I can already hear some of my readers saying, "Ban? What? We don't ban things, it's not the American way!" But that would not cost the American taxpayer one dime, while at the same time cutting CO2 emissions and significantly reducing our solid waste output. It would also force these unscrupulous packagers and their clients—supermarkets, for instance—to devise much more environmentally friendly packaging. That is about as sound an environmental policy as I can think of.
But, alas, in the minds of Obama and most Democrats, an environmental policy is worthless and has no bite if it doesn't raise taxes and create thousands of pages of federal policy.
I wonder how much paper Obama's administration will use in order to print out job descriptions for "the Apollo project."
The BBC just doesn't get it.
After 33-year-old dandy "comedian" Russell Brand and his guest on his BBC Radio 2 program, 47-year-old comic and TV show host Jonathan Ross, landed themselves in seriously hot water by leaving rude prank messages on 78-year-old actor Andrew Sachs' home answering machine—referred to as Manuelgate, given the fact that Sachs played the waiter Manuel in Fawlty Towers—the BBC saw fit to accept Radio 2 controller Lesley Douglas' resignation instead.
Brand left three messages on Sachs' machine, taunting him about the fact that he'd had sex with his grand-daughter and suggesting that Sachs might kill himself as a result of this disclosure. Then, Ross joked that they should break into Sachs' house to delete the messages they had left, and Brand crassly suggested that he masturbate Sachs to cheer him up.
In any other instance, abusing an elderly man in such fasion would have led to a police investigation and caution. But guess what? Ross and Brand received no such punishment under the law. The police did investigate the incident, but nothing came of it. If Sachs had wanted to persue this, Brand and Ross might have received jail sentences of up to six months, but Sachs declined to do this, just wanting peace instead.
The BBC suspended both Brand and Ross after enraged listeners lodged 31,000 complaints against the organization. Just a day after his suspension, Brand resigned from the BBC and said he'll concentrate on his career elsewhere. Ross is so far content to sit out his suspension with an eye toward returning to his TV show.
The most galling aspect about Ross is that he earns £6 million a year of publicly-funded BBC money for his TV show. A year ago, Ross callously joked about the massive job losses at the BBC, boasting that he was "worth 1,000 BBC journalists." That's when I personally decided that I loathed Ross and would never watch his show again.
Greg Dyke, the former director-general of the BBC, asserts that the corporation will continue to lose public support if they insist on paying its presenters and other assorted "celebrities" such high and lavish wages. One can only hope that Dyke is correct.
Even though veteran television personality Terry Wogan predicts that this is the end of Ross, at least as far as his career at the BBC is concerned, it is hard to see how this has damaged him as much as Wogan stipulates. The market will dictate that Ross receives a £2 or £3 million salary at ITV or Channel 4 instead. (The best that can be said for this is that at least it will be private money paying Ross' undeserved wages.)
The BBC should have cut Ross lose, and that would have been the best form of damage control. Instead, the BBC only suspended him for three months while allowing Lesley Douglas to leave instead.
Douglas had transformed Radio 2 during her tenure there, making the station more hip and attractive to younger listeners, after years of losing out to Capital Radio and Virgin Radio. She had made a mistake by hiring Russell Brand, but she was aware that Brand was big among the Big Brother-worshipping, slack-jawed, fried chicken-eating yout's of this country and knew, therefore, that the sex-obsessed Brand would bring a lot of clout to the station with his own radio show. Douglas should never have hired that former heroin addict, but should she have paid the price for his ill-minded immaturity? Should she have shouldered all the guilt for Manuelgate instead? Douglas had never heard the tapes before they went out over the air. Being so high up, she couldn't be expected to edit and hear everything.
It was Jonathan Ross who need to be kicked out from the organization. But the BBC's failure to do the right thing, and its insistence on trying to save their precious middle-aged prima donna, shows just how extensively the moral rot has spread throughout the once-proud organization. Their obsession with trying to outdo the wastelands of ITV and Channel 4 are only too indicative of this.
The BBC likes to pretend that it listens closely to the concerns of the population which funds them, but that claim too is nothing but a sick prank.
