Friday, April 30, 2010

Gordon's gaffe sinks Labour in the heat of the British election campaign

(Previously published by Blogcritics)

Just when you think it cannot get any worse for Gordon Brown, he drives what has got to be the final nail into his political coffin.
And Liberal Democrat leader Nick Clegg comes off looking like a genius for refusing to consider teaming up with him in the event of a hung parliament. Because, as many a Labour staffer knows, Gordon Brown is no man to work with—arrogant, temperamental, moody and pernicious daydreamer that he is.
In the town of Rochdale, Mr. Brown stopped to have a chat with a 65-year-old woman named Gillian Duffy. Mrs. Duffy told the Prime Minister that she had been a Labour supporter and voter her entire life, but was concerned about her pension, Britain's financial state and ...
... immigrants.
Yep. Mrs. Duffy, a woman who's had liberal, soft-socialist leanings her whole adult voting life, had to mention that dreaded "i"-word to someone who thinks it's a non-issue. The woman simply wondered why so many Eastern European immigrants are getting in and why they seem to enjoy better services than her. Duffy said that she's worked hard, since she was a teenager, and has paid her entire adult life into a system she feels is betraying her—a system that is also being stretched to the limit via unchecked, open-door immigration.
When Brown got back into his chauffered car, he apparently did not know his microphone was still clipped to his shirt. He immediately began to assert to his team that the meeting with Mrs. Duffy was a "disaster," that he should not have talked to the woman—"whose idea was it?" is a question you can hear him asking—and opined that it was "ridiculous" for her to reconsider her support for Labour.
And he also called her a "bigoted woman." Honestly, dear reader, watch the video on the link I provided. It's only too revealing.
Brown reacted with horror when a radio station played back the recording—he put his head in his hands for most of the broadcast—and immediately whipped around to Mrs. Duffy's home to personally apologize.
Empty gesture, empty words. It's the final, rock-solid proof we've all been waiting for that Gordon Brown is a menace to British democracy.
Two trains of thought here: (1) Gordon Brown does not respect the average British citizen, especially the average white British citizen. Immigrants are people he can manipulate. His government can treat them well in the hopes of guaranteed votes, so who cares how many cities, towns and villages become swamped with them? British taxpayers have unreasonable concerns anyway, like the cost of living, the tax they pay, the state of their health service, and the state of their pensions. These people are a write-off in terms of votes anyway, so let's flood the country with newcomers who are only too happy to be here and get fawned over by the current government.
Or (2): Mr. Brown cannot, for one moment, conceive how anyone could be unhappy with him, his party and his government for putting Britain in the current economic and social mess that it's in, and thinks it's genuinely ridiculous that anyone should have complaints. How could anyone not want to give him the chance to be the country's next elected Prime Minister? He and Labour are about a "fairer future," after all.
Labour's chances before Gordon Brown's gaffe were slim but not grim. They now could not be grimmer. For those who are happy to see the trouncing of this washed-up, just-short-of-tyrannical government, this incident could not have come at a better time.
Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

Screw the Arizona boycott!

Everyone's up in arms over this new law in Arizona that will make life mighty tough for illegal immigrants. Our Messiah of a President, Democrats, Hispanics, and liberal citizens are appalled. Boycott Arizona!, they demand.
But it's not that easy. This was a long time in coming. The Feds sit on the border, contemplating their navels, because they have very little power to detain people coming north. The Minutemen, brave, patriotic men and women who patrol the border themselves, have never had any endorsement or help from any administration, Republican or Democrat. The way to deal with illegal immigrants, we hear, is to grant them amnesty and set them up on the fast-track to citizenship.
Break the law, get rewarded for it. What a country.
In case the more sensitive citizens of our nation have spectacularly failed to notice, Mexico is in the grips of a vicious drug war. Any ability to spread out and extend the war into U.S. territory will be seen as a first-rate opportunity to the Mexican gangs and drug cartel.
Arizona is a "hot spot" for illegal immigrants and has the most problems with border crossings and it is taking its toll on the state, its resources and its ability to provide: for the safety and concerns of its residents and those of the immigrants themselves.
If Arizona sorts the problem of illegal immigration out through this law, might California, New Mexico and Texas all follow suit? Is that what scares Mexican-Americans, the President of Mexico (whose condemnation of the law was predictable), and all their related Hispanic brethren already in the country who so passionately believe in America's future destiny to para hablar español?
As we say in should-be de facto American English, "you betcha."
But no strong-arm tactics in defense of American property or values pass politically correct muster these days. This whole furore over Arizona's law means that lots of Americans believe their country has no right to a secure, stable future. And that is sad beyond words. The Obama-effect, I call it.
So, f*** you, all you liberal, dickweed, Messiah-voting c*nts. You're the reason Arizona took these drastic measures. Boycott Arizona, you say? Well, I'll be going out of my way to purchase Arizonian products. A tall glass of Arizona Iced Tea, anyone?

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Why can't my life be "ruined" like this?

Pity poor Keith Gough, who recently died of a heart attack. Life had really knocked this guy around. His life, you see, was "ruined" by the acquisition of £9 million. I really don't need to say anything else, do I? The point must surely be taken. Life doesn't get more soul-degrading or just plain shittier than that, eh?
Five years ago, this individual won the Lottery, spent it all on fast cars, race horses and an executive box to watch a group of men, as rich as him and wearing basketball shorts, kick a ball up and down a field.
You know, if I won £9 million, I'd be paying people to keep that woefully silly game out of my life. Alas, I digress ...
How do these people do it? How do they get their hands on that serious sort of cash—and then actually end up worse than they were before they won it? Well, I know how: By spending on pointless extravaganzes like those just described. That tells me that certain people should not play the Lottery.
But hey, it's anyone's right to play and win, then spend without thought, watch their marriage go down the drain and drink themselves into a coma nearly every night. I particularly like what Mr. Gough had to say after his millions caused him such misery. "[T]he lottery has ruined everything. What's the point of having money when it sends you to bed crying?" he philosophized. "Now when I see someone going in to a newsagent I advise them not to buy a lottery ticket."
I see. So, because you're a top-rate dickhead, whose intellectual capacity makes Gomer Pyle look like a Rhodes scholar, that means no-one should play? Of all the things I should be worried about, putting myself in a position to win millions is what ought to frighten me the most? Please. Spare me your advice, sir, because it's clearly the product of an empty head.
If I win the Lottery, I'm treating the money wisely. Give some to family, best friends and non-animal testing charities. Keep just enough to live comfortably, never have to work again and wake up every day prepared to have some fun with my life. Although I might just splurge on a first-class seating season ticket at Fenway Park, so that I could follow a real sport.
In fact, I can't help but think, why can't my life be "ruined" like that?
You can be assured that the last thing I'd do is drink myself to pieces, drive Squirrel away in the process, then moan about how the money ruined my life. It's hardly the money's fault that I would have acted stupidly.
That's why I never feel sorry for any of these ruined Lottery winners that you see in the news every now and again. In fact, not only do I not feel the slightest bit of empathy for them, but I yearn to bash them into a brick wall anywhere from 20 to 50 times, depending on how generous a mood I'm in at the time.
Mr. Gough doesn't have that to worry about from me, though. Our paths won't be crossing. He's already dead.