Of course there are realities within realities, truths within truths, lies within lies and if we are to believe some scientists, worlds within worlds. All inexorably bound together by thin threads of time and space, into a shimmering web of infinite possibility and potential; delicately balanced by conflicting gravity's somewhere between past and future, light and dark, good and evil, life and death. Only the names and places have been changed to protect the innocent and guilty.
Staring for one performance only at the end of a short pier, summer spectacular of mess, muddle and bare faced lies from Mister Blobby and his alter ego, Baron Von Munchhausen (by proxy syndrome) of Presscoat and Son's Poisoners Paradise. A white faced clown without his make-up, indistinguishable from the whitewash with a hint of brown, those stupid or eager for success call the Iraq Inquiry.
But most of us know to be, like their eager autobiographies, nothing but re-warmed, re-hashed browns, amounting to a hill of beans and the same old lies, re-spin razor-blade encrusted spin and the delusions of criminals thinking themselves above the law.
An alternative reality where one plus one equals six and lies are spun again into the fragile truths. Used to constantly justify the unjustifiable, cover over endemic criminality and go bing, bang, bung, bonus all the way to the bank.
While speaking in tongues and praising the Lord for the fact that there is one born every minute to the automated production-line that passes for life in the human zoo contemporary western society became for the dumbed down and dumber flat head of flat screen, high definition worlds that became the rat infested criminal heartland of New Labour politics and the criminal tendency that thrived and prospered like weeds amongst a very peculiar form of British fascism.
Looking like a startled weasel caught in the gamekeepers headlights, the layers of blubbery white flesh still moving restlessly long after he froze. And yes, he sat upon the Ikea sofa government of Tony (Teflon) Bear, eagerly hiding crimes and secrets down the back as New Labours number two. A man with a ball bearing for a heart and the predisposition of a constipated donkey who willingly became Inquisitions Minister for Torture, religious persecution and political corruption.
Capable of committing the most horrendous Fascist crimes without ever being found guilty and thanks to his very own extra large Teflon coating. Able to crawl through a sewer full of shit and come out the other end smelling or roses. His type two Gab's (greedy arrogant bastard syndrome) undiminished inside that trusty non-stick exoskeleton and compliant Bear Broadcasting Corporation.
Just another cowboy politician with an eye for himself, love of money and power, selling out Britain, the British and anything not nailed down to the highest bidder. In a feted bog, bubbling with corruption, lies and crimes, wherein sleep the monsters and co-conspirators created by this very peculiar form of British fascism.
In order to read a longer version of this blog go to:
nemesis-ser.spaces.live.com/blog
Life under the Condemed in broken, bankrupt Britain, has become even worse for me personally, because from the 15th August, some pagan festival for Pope Adolph the Persecutor and his Priests of hate. When I was poisoned three times during the day and drugged senseless twice at night, things have not got better but progressively worse. It is like being taken back to the worse day's of the Hatcher and Raygun administrations, when the psychology department of a well known university, asked by Hatcher and the then Cardinal Ratsinger to find a way of stopping me from working, came up with 'white noise' as a possible solution.
For which the Chancellor got a knighthood from Hatcher. The Conservatives and their new friend Baron Von Munchausen have been torturing and drugging me night and day. But as they will tell you, lieing without a twitch or tremble, I am mad. Mad I am livid that criminal politicians, the Priests of hate, security forces and military can continue to get away with the most appalling crimes upon the British mainland.
By denying their innocent victims the right of a trial or opportunity to defend themselves against the lies and crimes of religions delusional who for hundreds of years have managed to keep people from God and their unquestionable power and wealth, untouched by truth.
Tuesday, 17 August 2010
Saturday, 29 May 2010
A Hint of Aneasthesia (Part Two)
Of course there are realities within realities, truths within truths, lies within lies and if we are to believe some scientists, worlds within worlds. All inexorably bound together by thin threads of time and space, into a shimmering web of infinite possibility and potential; delicately balanced by conflicting gravity's somewhere between past and future, light and dark, good and evil, life and death. Only the names and places have been changed to protect the innocent and guilty.
A Hint of Anaesthesia (Part Two)
These are the voyages of the star ship USS Alliance, its five year mission to explore strange new worlds and boldly go where no coalition has gone before.
America's Golden one Berock O'Barmy, taking a solid silver whistle from his desk drawer. Blew three times long and hard, making a high pitch sound only trained Yapping Dogs could hear, even with heads up their own arses. This time it was a little Yorkshire Terrier, former lap dog to the Iron Lady, Margaret Hatcher herself. Created in her image and narrow political creed, slavering and barking again for a new master with a disconcertingly familiar smell. Which came running into the White House, eyes big, eager and inquisitive, ever ready to agree and please for that special relationship that only a dog and master have. A symbiosis of trust and shared purpose, for those who long ago abandoned any pretence towards belief and commitment to the rule of law along with a free and fare trial.
Not only did the Conservatives with the encouragement of Cardinal Ratsinger and the Vatican, then under the leadership of Margaret Hatcher long before she turned into a mad, big black bat handbagging anyone who got in her way, start the 'targeting', harassment and religious persecution. Three of the new Camaroom cabinet, had served in a previous Conservative government. Under which, I had been systematically 'targeted', political double speak for torture and religious persecution. Justified with a sea of lies and another of those infamous dodgy dossiers New Labour became so good at producing in order to legitimise their crimes and systemic human rights violations at the 'heart of darkness' for over a decade. Legitimised by denying those accused a free and fare trial, when they can defend themselves against allegations and lies that upon occasions, appeared to change every day to suite the needs and purposes of the Vatican and its loose Inquisition of Christian fundamentalists, homophobes, transphobes and misogynists.
No change there, then? Same old, same old Zombie congregations and loose affiliations of political dinosaurs, intent upon not evolving, not adapting and changing into anything other than a 'dinner suit' for a night at their private club and ten minute work-out at the best little whorehouse in Westminster, before returning home to wife and family in a hackney carriage.
When a trio of truculent, trenchant Tory ministers travelled to Afghanistan upon a 'surprise visit', political double speak for the fact that after years of fighting, hundreds of deaths and thousands of injuries. The political situation is as unstable and violent as when British troops first went into the country. To probably complete their mission without a single shot being fired, according to the then Minister for Defence in La La land. A man apparently so out of touch with reality or any understanding of the countries long and bloody history, I am surprised he could manage to dress himself in a morning.
I received exactly to same treatment before and during the visit, by exactly the same people, using the same pharmaceuticals, practices and procedures, telling the same lies to themselves and others in order to justify the unjustifiable. No change there, then? Because people, non terrorist supporters, are still being 'targeted', tortured, harassed, drugged and physically assaulted upon the British mainland, daily. By people who for public consumption, do not condone torture, though behind closed doors and under their Harry Porter cloak of invisibility, known technically as a 'D' notice, the truth is very different to the fantasy politics of religious delusional and national self interest. When it comes to the 'bing, bang, bung, bonus culture' of sleazeballs, snakes, scorpions, spinning men and giant Bung Beetles, programmed to push the largest, steaming balls of shit around Westminster's gold paved streets. No change there, then?
Just to further compound my current difficulties, as well as being in the middle of another NASA mission, Hilly Clintin, Secretary of State for the 'Golden One', righteous Crusader and protector of the one true faith. Was going 'stomp about' in the Far east and opening again her very own Pandora's box. Stood aghast while all manner of evil and strange delusions came screaming from inside. And who are you going to be tonight Hilly? Tonight Berock, I am going to be Lucrecia Borga, well known Italian poisoner and murderer. Only I am way, way smarter than she was, I get other people to do the poisoning for me. Ha. Ha. Ha. No change there, then?
Anyone would think Presscoat was still Deputy Prime Minister and by the nature of office, above the laws of the land. With Nazi lying Labour still squatting democracy and freedom, while selling off anything of worth to the highest bidder. In the crime fest of the century for true believers and their rich, religious friends. Subject to constant 'white noise' drugged repeatedly and poisoned (made intentionally ill with pharmaceuticals I always react towards. Harassed by the witches, neighbours from hell with cash in hand and no questions asked. Life just could not get any better, unless of course, there was a State opening of the 'Rats Palace' and an England football match. By Tuesday morning I did not know what day it was, only to be drugged senseless from ten thirty to twelve thirty. No change there, then? With Labour politicians still screwing Parliament for all they were worth from the House of Lords and Liars.
If you think that the British military, security forces and politicians tortured or actively encouraged torture only abroad and against alleged terrorists, following the 'nine eleven' attacks. Then you are either a bare faced liar or a duplicitous idiot. Because I know from personal experience, they have been torturing and targeting British people, upon the British mainland for over thirty years. Individuals and groups who are not even terrorists but union members, communists (until the death of ideology),community activists, homosexuals, transsexuals, feminists, anti-nuclear protesters and ordinary people.
It was at Margaret Hatcher's insistence that torture and targeting be kept in the community and extra judicial killings be made to look like accidents, suicide or natural causes. Clearly not all those targeted were tortured or the victims of over enthusiastic 'wet work'. Some were just watched, bugged and filed for future reference. To date John Manager remains the only British Prime Minister who discouraged the use of targeting and torture, which is why the military, security forces and Vatican worked so hard to bring about his immediate downfall.
New Labour under Tony Bear, with his enthusiastic Minister for Torture and Targeting, John Presscoat and son. Simply took what might be compared to a cottage industry and turned it into an international conglomerate. Giving friends, allies and financial supporters access to facilities, networks, people and the freedom to undertake their criminal activities with complete impunity to prosecution upon the British mainland.
To long have a relative minority of corrupt, criminal politicians and the Priests of hate they kneel before, been able to target and torture me complete immunity to prosecution or criticism. They spent years destroying my personal and professional reputation, having had all attempts to expose these crimes and get justice against them, blocked and frustrated. I wrote a book explaining who, how, why, when and where? Only for Tony Bear, John Presscoat and New Labour et al, true to their Nazi beliefs, to ban the book. You really have to threaten the system in order to become a banned writer - I wonder why? True to their communist inspired revolution, truth tellers are just deluded, bitter or mad. Shame on you, because all it ever takes for Evil to prosper, is that good men and women remain silent, while sometimes, truth is stranger than fiction.
From personal experience, the following have used torture, targeting and related human rights violations upon the British mainland over the past few weeks:
America
United Kingdom
Israel
Vatican
European Union
European Council of Ministers
NATO
United Nations (Security Council and peace envoys)
IMF
Christian Fundamentalists (various world wide affiliations).
Given that organisations such as Liberty appear more interested in protecting the Labour party and its members when it comes to allegations of systemic targeting, torture and human rights violations by the military, security forces, police, priests and politicians such as Bear, Presscoat, Brawn, Labour Ministers for Defence and Home Secretary's and those long lost to the collective crimes and madness of organised religion. I should like to call for an independent inquiry into the routine, criminal use of targeting, torture and human rights violations against non terrorist suspects, upon the British mainland.
From long before 'nine eleven' attacks allowed politicians to throw away the rule books, ignore international laws and conventions in a so-called war against terrorism and their own people. Because something fundamental, something that makes us all decent human beings has been sacrificed for the instant benefits of revenge and subjugation before the rolling 'might is right' politics of those chosen by man's God of men, created by men for man from the fantasy of complete control, dominance and dominion.
'The fate of all mankind I fear, is in the hands of fools.'
In the Court of the Crimson King by King Crimson.
In a sad and sorry land where sleaze, corruption, lies and criminal activity are rewarded and truth, honesty, and integrity punished by the Lords and Liars of misrule. No change there, then?
A Hint of Anaesthesia (Part Two)
These are the voyages of the star ship USS Alliance, its five year mission to explore strange new worlds and boldly go where no coalition has gone before.
America's Golden one Berock O'Barmy, taking a solid silver whistle from his desk drawer. Blew three times long and hard, making a high pitch sound only trained Yapping Dogs could hear, even with heads up their own arses. This time it was a little Yorkshire Terrier, former lap dog to the Iron Lady, Margaret Hatcher herself. Created in her image and narrow political creed, slavering and barking again for a new master with a disconcertingly familiar smell. Which came running into the White House, eyes big, eager and inquisitive, ever ready to agree and please for that special relationship that only a dog and master have. A symbiosis of trust and shared purpose, for those who long ago abandoned any pretence towards belief and commitment to the rule of law along with a free and fare trial.
Not only did the Conservatives with the encouragement of Cardinal Ratsinger and the Vatican, then under the leadership of Margaret Hatcher long before she turned into a mad, big black bat handbagging anyone who got in her way, start the 'targeting', harassment and religious persecution. Three of the new Camaroom cabinet, had served in a previous Conservative government. Under which, I had been systematically 'targeted', political double speak for torture and religious persecution. Justified with a sea of lies and another of those infamous dodgy dossiers New Labour became so good at producing in order to legitimise their crimes and systemic human rights violations at the 'heart of darkness' for over a decade. Legitimised by denying those accused a free and fare trial, when they can defend themselves against allegations and lies that upon occasions, appeared to change every day to suite the needs and purposes of the Vatican and its loose Inquisition of Christian fundamentalists, homophobes, transphobes and misogynists.
No change there, then? Same old, same old Zombie congregations and loose affiliations of political dinosaurs, intent upon not evolving, not adapting and changing into anything other than a 'dinner suit' for a night at their private club and ten minute work-out at the best little whorehouse in Westminster, before returning home to wife and family in a hackney carriage.
When a trio of truculent, trenchant Tory ministers travelled to Afghanistan upon a 'surprise visit', political double speak for the fact that after years of fighting, hundreds of deaths and thousands of injuries. The political situation is as unstable and violent as when British troops first went into the country. To probably complete their mission without a single shot being fired, according to the then Minister for Defence in La La land. A man apparently so out of touch with reality or any understanding of the countries long and bloody history, I am surprised he could manage to dress himself in a morning.
I received exactly to same treatment before and during the visit, by exactly the same people, using the same pharmaceuticals, practices and procedures, telling the same lies to themselves and others in order to justify the unjustifiable. No change there, then? Because people, non terrorist supporters, are still being 'targeted', tortured, harassed, drugged and physically assaulted upon the British mainland, daily. By people who for public consumption, do not condone torture, though behind closed doors and under their Harry Porter cloak of invisibility, known technically as a 'D' notice, the truth is very different to the fantasy politics of religious delusional and national self interest. When it comes to the 'bing, bang, bung, bonus culture' of sleazeballs, snakes, scorpions, spinning men and giant Bung Beetles, programmed to push the largest, steaming balls of shit around Westminster's gold paved streets. No change there, then?
Just to further compound my current difficulties, as well as being in the middle of another NASA mission, Hilly Clintin, Secretary of State for the 'Golden One', righteous Crusader and protector of the one true faith. Was going 'stomp about' in the Far east and opening again her very own Pandora's box. Stood aghast while all manner of evil and strange delusions came screaming from inside. And who are you going to be tonight Hilly? Tonight Berock, I am going to be Lucrecia Borga, well known Italian poisoner and murderer. Only I am way, way smarter than she was, I get other people to do the poisoning for me. Ha. Ha. Ha. No change there, then?
Anyone would think Presscoat was still Deputy Prime Minister and by the nature of office, above the laws of the land. With Nazi lying Labour still squatting democracy and freedom, while selling off anything of worth to the highest bidder. In the crime fest of the century for true believers and their rich, religious friends. Subject to constant 'white noise' drugged repeatedly and poisoned (made intentionally ill with pharmaceuticals I always react towards. Harassed by the witches, neighbours from hell with cash in hand and no questions asked. Life just could not get any better, unless of course, there was a State opening of the 'Rats Palace' and an England football match. By Tuesday morning I did not know what day it was, only to be drugged senseless from ten thirty to twelve thirty. No change there, then? With Labour politicians still screwing Parliament for all they were worth from the House of Lords and Liars.
If you think that the British military, security forces and politicians tortured or actively encouraged torture only abroad and against alleged terrorists, following the 'nine eleven' attacks. Then you are either a bare faced liar or a duplicitous idiot. Because I know from personal experience, they have been torturing and targeting British people, upon the British mainland for over thirty years. Individuals and groups who are not even terrorists but union members, communists (until the death of ideology),community activists, homosexuals, transsexuals, feminists, anti-nuclear protesters and ordinary people.
It was at Margaret Hatcher's insistence that torture and targeting be kept in the community and extra judicial killings be made to look like accidents, suicide or natural causes. Clearly not all those targeted were tortured or the victims of over enthusiastic 'wet work'. Some were just watched, bugged and filed for future reference. To date John Manager remains the only British Prime Minister who discouraged the use of targeting and torture, which is why the military, security forces and Vatican worked so hard to bring about his immediate downfall.
New Labour under Tony Bear, with his enthusiastic Minister for Torture and Targeting, John Presscoat and son. Simply took what might be compared to a cottage industry and turned it into an international conglomerate. Giving friends, allies and financial supporters access to facilities, networks, people and the freedom to undertake their criminal activities with complete impunity to prosecution upon the British mainland.
To long have a relative minority of corrupt, criminal politicians and the Priests of hate they kneel before, been able to target and torture me complete immunity to prosecution or criticism. They spent years destroying my personal and professional reputation, having had all attempts to expose these crimes and get justice against them, blocked and frustrated. I wrote a book explaining who, how, why, when and where? Only for Tony Bear, John Presscoat and New Labour et al, true to their Nazi beliefs, to ban the book. You really have to threaten the system in order to become a banned writer - I wonder why? True to their communist inspired revolution, truth tellers are just deluded, bitter or mad. Shame on you, because all it ever takes for Evil to prosper, is that good men and women remain silent, while sometimes, truth is stranger than fiction.
From personal experience, the following have used torture, targeting and related human rights violations upon the British mainland over the past few weeks:
America
United Kingdom
Israel
Vatican
European Union
European Council of Ministers
NATO
United Nations (Security Council and peace envoys)
IMF
Christian Fundamentalists (various world wide affiliations).
Given that organisations such as Liberty appear more interested in protecting the Labour party and its members when it comes to allegations of systemic targeting, torture and human rights violations by the military, security forces, police, priests and politicians such as Bear, Presscoat, Brawn, Labour Ministers for Defence and Home Secretary's and those long lost to the collective crimes and madness of organised religion. I should like to call for an independent inquiry into the routine, criminal use of targeting, torture and human rights violations against non terrorist suspects, upon the British mainland.
From long before 'nine eleven' attacks allowed politicians to throw away the rule books, ignore international laws and conventions in a so-called war against terrorism and their own people. Because something fundamental, something that makes us all decent human beings has been sacrificed for the instant benefits of revenge and subjugation before the rolling 'might is right' politics of those chosen by man's God of men, created by men for man from the fantasy of complete control, dominance and dominion.
'The fate of all mankind I fear, is in the hands of fools.'
In the Court of the Crimson King by King Crimson.
In a sad and sorry land where sleaze, corruption, lies and criminal activity are rewarded and truth, honesty, and integrity punished by the Lords and Liars of misrule. No change there, then?
Wednesday, 14 April 2010
The Sloth Derby (A British national election)
Of course there are realities within realities, truths within truths, lies within lies and if we are to believe some scientists, worlds within worlds. All inexorably bound together by thin threads of time and space, into a shimmering web of infinite possibility and potential; delicately balanced by conflicting gravity's somewhere between past and future, light and dark, good and evil, life and death. Only the names and places have been changed to protect the innocent and guilty.
The Sloth Derby
Genera: BradysleazeCholoepusleazeus
And they are off!
Four weeks to a general election and Nazi lying Labour, are already behaving like a dangerous pack of cornered Rat's. With the opinion polls indicating either a hung Parliament or the demise of the archetypal spinning men, the hollow men and Labour cradle to grave elected dictatorship in Brawn's bully boy Britain. Only four weeks to completely wipe the hard drives and shred several forests of incriminating evidence, tie-up the lose-ends, murder and discredit any potential witnesses to their sleazeball crimes and let the failures, the mess and muddle of men with a Vernon's Pools, spend, spend, spend mentality and more spin and spittle than a rabid Bulldog chasing its own tail, fade to grey, fade away.
Four weeks to flip, fool, filibuster and fiddle their way into a fourth term. As the only party able to save Britain, which after thirteen years of death by a thousand cuts from Labour's devastating communist cultural revolution, gun-boar interventionist foreign policy and economic incompetence while effortlessly creating the worlds most over inflated credit bubble. Which went bang in all our faces leaving every man, woman and child in this country with the equivalent of two hundred thousand pounds of debt (1.7 trillion pounds) per person. Who, having intentionally paddled the country well and truly up 'Shit Creek',are the only political party capable of getting us out. Having thrown away the paddles but with the determination of spendaholics and giant sleazeballs, are still the only people to rescue us from their mismanagement, inherent corruption and abuse of office.
Four weeks to fiddle the postal voting, massage key marginals and fool again the button pushers and lever pullers. Four weeks for the spin Doctors along with their covens of public relations men, special advisers, image consultants and special effects men to cast again the trusted old spells, conjuring up forgotten Demons and Devils. While throwing all the mud they could grasp in their grubby little hands, holding the dirtiest, most personal, corrupt election in decades as they bullied and brow beat the electorate into voting for more of the same congenital nest feathering and opulent self interest down among the more popular 'runs' around the Rat's Palace.
Four weeks to erase the security tapes and wipe the systems back-up discs. To be born again all sparkly and new inside the regeneration tanks, genetically modified to speak out of their arses with gene sequences from a corn upon John Presscoat's left foot and a blob of Tony Bear's snot, gold plated of course. As if the past thirteen years of elected dictatorship, religious delusion, disastrous foreign policy and lamentable financial mismanagement had not happened - you are feeling sleepy, your eyes are getting heavy - not according to the way many remember the fading lights of freedom and democracy. How Tony Bear, John Presscoat and Gordon Brawn et al, payed scant regard to cabinet government, truth and fundamental traditions inside the Labour party, with their Mussolini pouts and Fascist hand thumping.
How did John Presscoat (El Doucha), ex deputy prime minister with Labour's portfolio for torture, bullying and religious persecution, the brain of a Sloth and personality of a rusty ball-bearing, manage to shoot effortlessly, miraculously up the greasy pole of British sleazeball politics as if he had a shuttle (rocket) up his arse? And why is it, as chairman of the Labour party and deputy Prime Minister before, during and after the lies, deception, mess and muddle of the second Gulf War. Has he not been called to give evidence before the white-wash with a hint of brown fiasco and complete waste of tax payers money, known as the Iraq Inquiry?
A man so favoured by the entrenched Nazi's, Fascists and federalists of the Fourth Reich that the European Union became. He now sits upon the very pinnacle of unaccountable politics, the European Council of Ministers. With his own Teflon coating and Harry Porter cloak of invisibility to hide the endemic corruption and systematic abuse of office (misfefemvie) from media scrutiny and public knowledge. About the people's politician, a champagne quaffing socialist with not one but two Jaguars and house worth over a million pounds in his Hull (East) constituency. Because it certainly was not for his intelligence, intellect, ability to string together a grammatically correct sentence, charming personality (unless there was money, patronage and power for him and his friends), or impeccable morality and commitment to freedom and democracy.
Nor was it because like a Wombat he could produce cube shaped shit, or had any role in the staggering three thousand seven hundred new offences created by the failed lawyers and spinning men of Nazi lying labour. Who made it illegal to cause a nuclear explosion, sell Ruddy Ducks and Japanese Knot Weed while fiddling, flipping and fooling the British electorate. As they staggered from one of Parliaments ten subsidised bar's to the next, mumbling 'there is one born every minute' before falling asleep m, completely pissed upon the comfortable, privileged green benches of the Rat's Palace in Westminster. Along with all the other snoring, baying, brain dead members of New labours terracotta army of nodding dog politicians an the Stepford Wives for whom things could only get better and better.
Thanks to the endemic bing, bang, bung of political corruption and unaccountable power, patronage and favour within Westminster's well used Rat 'runs' and five star, gold platted sewers, specially constructed for those bigger shits and unfeasibly large amounts of effluence and waste to come pouring from an institution lost without trace to the seventeenth century, in a fantasy world that time forgot amongst the dust and detritus of inherent corruption, abuse and unaccountability. As for the truth of his meager talents and abilities, I learnt long before I whistle-blew to a man from the Local Government Audit Commission about Presscoat and his son's company illegally purchasing hundreds of council houses under the right to buy scheme, endemic bullying and political corruption in Hull. And they say crime does not pay, well it certainly does for sleazeball politicians and their friends in the 'mother' of all Parliaments.
While for my appalling crimes of telling the truth, honesty and morality, I would be destroyed both professionally and personally by Labour, who raised the criminals to the highest office in the land so they could make my life a living Hell along with local Labour politicians, their family's, friends, the security forces, co-conspirators in corruption and John Presscoat's on the waterfront, four-by-four summery justice. Once the Local Government Audit Commission, having put the labour council on 'special measures' and asked the Humberside police to investigate the alleged illegal sale and purchase of council properties and corruption regarding council contracts. Men and women with pocket-calculators the size of bill-boards, finally left town without so much as a 'don't forget to call. The Labour council having had to intentionally lose the next local election or see the entire council taken to court.
I was a 'dead man walking' - metaphorically speaking. Especially as the then Chief Constable of Humberside lived conveniently, to conveniently some might say, next door but one to the Right Horrible John Presscoat, deputy Prime Minister and serial recidivist - convenient or what? Especially when a lengthy police investigation found there to be insufficient evidence to prosecute Presscoat or son of sleazeball. Though his best friend, the then chair of the local Housing Committee was found guilty of improper conduct and sentenced to one year in prison for selling hundreds of council properties to a company run by one of Presscoats sons. A man who by keeping his mouth shut, within six months of being released, was back as chair of another local housing committee - dead man walking - little wonder I felt like the only Gazelle in the Lion's enclosure!
El Doucha Presscoat's eagerness to establish, organise, orchestrate and cover-over bullying, torture, persecution, harassment and assaults against any to stupid to tell the truth or believe in freedom of speech and democracy. With his brutal, ruthless four-by-four thick as a plank mentality, brain the size of that of a Horse Shoe Bat, personal charm of a cesspit and Harry Porter cloak of invisibility, he was just the man Tony Bear and Cardinal Ratsinger needed to cover over their brutal Inquisition against God's real truth. To create the networks of corruption, feral children and neighbours from Hell used routinely against 'truth tellers' who spoke out against the lies and corruption.
With the lightening fast reaction of a dead Slugn for passing egg men - I am the Walrus. I am the egg man. Cu, cu, ca chew. Being the only God given talents of a man who was down his local pub in Swansea when God gave out the brains and common human decency. But like all natural born con-artists, he cultivated them to his best ability and full financial potential amongst Catholicisms mad and bad in the car-boot sale of the century. For despite sinking slowly into the Slough of Despond, El Doucha Presscoat was born again to the continuing possibilities of power and wealth, he and his paid assassins still had a major role to play in O'Barmy and Clintin's Islamaphobic, war mongering 'what if?' fantasy politics. Especially if there was easy money to be made by the carrier-bag full and decent people to corrupt and destroy. Before, dressed in ermine and silk-stockings, finally taking his right full place in the House of Lords and Liars, having made Hull into a poisoners paradise.
To read the first of a two part extract from a profilers case book: the strange case of the invisible man (Washington Sniper) go to:
nemesis-ser.spaces.live.com/blog
The Sloth Derby
Genera: BradysleazeCholoepusleazeus
And they are off!
Four weeks to a general election and Nazi lying Labour, are already behaving like a dangerous pack of cornered Rat's. With the opinion polls indicating either a hung Parliament or the demise of the archetypal spinning men, the hollow men and Labour cradle to grave elected dictatorship in Brawn's bully boy Britain. Only four weeks to completely wipe the hard drives and shred several forests of incriminating evidence, tie-up the lose-ends, murder and discredit any potential witnesses to their sleazeball crimes and let the failures, the mess and muddle of men with a Vernon's Pools, spend, spend, spend mentality and more spin and spittle than a rabid Bulldog chasing its own tail, fade to grey, fade away.
Four weeks to flip, fool, filibuster and fiddle their way into a fourth term. As the only party able to save Britain, which after thirteen years of death by a thousand cuts from Labour's devastating communist cultural revolution, gun-boar interventionist foreign policy and economic incompetence while effortlessly creating the worlds most over inflated credit bubble. Which went bang in all our faces leaving every man, woman and child in this country with the equivalent of two hundred thousand pounds of debt (1.7 trillion pounds) per person. Who, having intentionally paddled the country well and truly up 'Shit Creek',are the only political party capable of getting us out. Having thrown away the paddles but with the determination of spendaholics and giant sleazeballs, are still the only people to rescue us from their mismanagement, inherent corruption and abuse of office.
Four weeks to fiddle the postal voting, massage key marginals and fool again the button pushers and lever pullers. Four weeks for the spin Doctors along with their covens of public relations men, special advisers, image consultants and special effects men to cast again the trusted old spells, conjuring up forgotten Demons and Devils. While throwing all the mud they could grasp in their grubby little hands, holding the dirtiest, most personal, corrupt election in decades as they bullied and brow beat the electorate into voting for more of the same congenital nest feathering and opulent self interest down among the more popular 'runs' around the Rat's Palace.
Four weeks to erase the security tapes and wipe the systems back-up discs. To be born again all sparkly and new inside the regeneration tanks, genetically modified to speak out of their arses with gene sequences from a corn upon John Presscoat's left foot and a blob of Tony Bear's snot, gold plated of course. As if the past thirteen years of elected dictatorship, religious delusion, disastrous foreign policy and lamentable financial mismanagement had not happened - you are feeling sleepy, your eyes are getting heavy - not according to the way many remember the fading lights of freedom and democracy. How Tony Bear, John Presscoat and Gordon Brawn et al, payed scant regard to cabinet government, truth and fundamental traditions inside the Labour party, with their Mussolini pouts and Fascist hand thumping.
How did John Presscoat (El Doucha), ex deputy prime minister with Labour's portfolio for torture, bullying and religious persecution, the brain of a Sloth and personality of a rusty ball-bearing, manage to shoot effortlessly, miraculously up the greasy pole of British sleazeball politics as if he had a shuttle (rocket) up his arse? And why is it, as chairman of the Labour party and deputy Prime Minister before, during and after the lies, deception, mess and muddle of the second Gulf War. Has he not been called to give evidence before the white-wash with a hint of brown fiasco and complete waste of tax payers money, known as the Iraq Inquiry?
A man so favoured by the entrenched Nazi's, Fascists and federalists of the Fourth Reich that the European Union became. He now sits upon the very pinnacle of unaccountable politics, the European Council of Ministers. With his own Teflon coating and Harry Porter cloak of invisibility to hide the endemic corruption and systematic abuse of office (misfefemvie) from media scrutiny and public knowledge. About the people's politician, a champagne quaffing socialist with not one but two Jaguars and house worth over a million pounds in his Hull (East) constituency. Because it certainly was not for his intelligence, intellect, ability to string together a grammatically correct sentence, charming personality (unless there was money, patronage and power for him and his friends), or impeccable morality and commitment to freedom and democracy.
Nor was it because like a Wombat he could produce cube shaped shit, or had any role in the staggering three thousand seven hundred new offences created by the failed lawyers and spinning men of Nazi lying labour. Who made it illegal to cause a nuclear explosion, sell Ruddy Ducks and Japanese Knot Weed while fiddling, flipping and fooling the British electorate. As they staggered from one of Parliaments ten subsidised bar's to the next, mumbling 'there is one born every minute' before falling asleep m, completely pissed upon the comfortable, privileged green benches of the Rat's Palace in Westminster. Along with all the other snoring, baying, brain dead members of New labours terracotta army of nodding dog politicians an the Stepford Wives for whom things could only get better and better.
Thanks to the endemic bing, bang, bung of political corruption and unaccountable power, patronage and favour within Westminster's well used Rat 'runs' and five star, gold platted sewers, specially constructed for those bigger shits and unfeasibly large amounts of effluence and waste to come pouring from an institution lost without trace to the seventeenth century, in a fantasy world that time forgot amongst the dust and detritus of inherent corruption, abuse and unaccountability. As for the truth of his meager talents and abilities, I learnt long before I whistle-blew to a man from the Local Government Audit Commission about Presscoat and his son's company illegally purchasing hundreds of council houses under the right to buy scheme, endemic bullying and political corruption in Hull. And they say crime does not pay, well it certainly does for sleazeball politicians and their friends in the 'mother' of all Parliaments.
While for my appalling crimes of telling the truth, honesty and morality, I would be destroyed both professionally and personally by Labour, who raised the criminals to the highest office in the land so they could make my life a living Hell along with local Labour politicians, their family's, friends, the security forces, co-conspirators in corruption and John Presscoat's on the waterfront, four-by-four summery justice. Once the Local Government Audit Commission, having put the labour council on 'special measures' and asked the Humberside police to investigate the alleged illegal sale and purchase of council properties and corruption regarding council contracts. Men and women with pocket-calculators the size of bill-boards, finally left town without so much as a 'don't forget to call. The Labour council having had to intentionally lose the next local election or see the entire council taken to court.
I was a 'dead man walking' - metaphorically speaking. Especially as the then Chief Constable of Humberside lived conveniently, to conveniently some might say, next door but one to the Right Horrible John Presscoat, deputy Prime Minister and serial recidivist - convenient or what? Especially when a lengthy police investigation found there to be insufficient evidence to prosecute Presscoat or son of sleazeball. Though his best friend, the then chair of the local Housing Committee was found guilty of improper conduct and sentenced to one year in prison for selling hundreds of council properties to a company run by one of Presscoats sons. A man who by keeping his mouth shut, within six months of being released, was back as chair of another local housing committee - dead man walking - little wonder I felt like the only Gazelle in the Lion's enclosure!
El Doucha Presscoat's eagerness to establish, organise, orchestrate and cover-over bullying, torture, persecution, harassment and assaults against any to stupid to tell the truth or believe in freedom of speech and democracy. With his brutal, ruthless four-by-four thick as a plank mentality, brain the size of that of a Horse Shoe Bat, personal charm of a cesspit and Harry Porter cloak of invisibility, he was just the man Tony Bear and Cardinal Ratsinger needed to cover over their brutal Inquisition against God's real truth. To create the networks of corruption, feral children and neighbours from Hell used routinely against 'truth tellers' who spoke out against the lies and corruption.
With the lightening fast reaction of a dead Slugn for passing egg men - I am the Walrus. I am the egg man. Cu, cu, ca chew. Being the only God given talents of a man who was down his local pub in Swansea when God gave out the brains and common human decency. But like all natural born con-artists, he cultivated them to his best ability and full financial potential amongst Catholicisms mad and bad in the car-boot sale of the century. For despite sinking slowly into the Slough of Despond, El Doucha Presscoat was born again to the continuing possibilities of power and wealth, he and his paid assassins still had a major role to play in O'Barmy and Clintin's Islamaphobic, war mongering 'what if?' fantasy politics. Especially if there was easy money to be made by the carrier-bag full and decent people to corrupt and destroy. Before, dressed in ermine and silk-stockings, finally taking his right full place in the House of Lords and Liars, having made Hull into a poisoners paradise.
To read the first of a two part extract from a profilers case book: the strange case of the invisible man (Washington Sniper) go to:
nemesis-ser.spaces.live.com/blog
Tuesday, 6 April 2010
America, still torture central under O,Barmy
Of course there are realities within realities, truths within truths, lies within lies and if we are to believe some scientists, worlds within worlds. All inexorably bound together by thin threads of time and space, into a shimmering web of infinite possibility and potential; delicately balanced by conflicting gravity's somewhere between past and future, light and dark, good and evil, life and death. Only the names and places have been changed to protect the innocent and guilty.
Still Torturing!
It was to much acclaim and world-wide publicity that the Golden One, Berock O'Barmy, so good he had to be sworn in twice as the forty fourth President of America. Announced, halo freshly polished, that his administration would ban 'water boarding' as a form of torture with immediate effect. While the media fools and clowns, ever eager, shone their spotlight upon the righteous after-birth deposited before the one chosen to absolve the inherent racism of a country founded upon the genocide of the indigenous American peoples and their cultures. Any who took the time to look closely at the distorting mirrors, hidden deep and dark within the thickening fogs of spin and spittle, would have noticed that thirteen approved methods of torture remained unaffected.
To be routinely, systematically used by the Democrats and their close friends around the world, along with a number of adaptations and variations from the creative minds of borderline psychotics and religious delusional. Whose ongoing love affair with torture and extra-judicial killings (wet work) did not just start after the infamous 'nine eleven' attacks. Because I know from personal experience, individuals were routinely tortured from the days of Ronald Raygun (American) and Matrgaret (keep torture in the community) Hatcher (United Kingdom). So entrenched and routine were these practices, they felt confident enough to sign a Geneva Convention banning the use of sleep deprivation, only to breach four hours later - the ink still wet on the paper - without any consequences.
A love affair continued with enthusiasm by George Brush (senior), especially after Saddam Hussun invaded Kuwait. Catching the Americans and its allies with their pants down, collectively wanking each other off. Though after the inevitable political assassination of Hatcher, forced to fall upon her infamous Poll Tax legislation. With the next British Prime Minister, John Manager, they lost a loyal supporter of systematic torture, in particular as a form of political and religious oppression, or persecution. To this day he remains the only British Prime Minister, not to routinely encourage and condone such shameful practices, despite his lengthy affair with a member of his cabinet.
As did the next American administration during the early months of Bill Clintin. At least until he joined the ranks of those serially cock sucked-off in the oval office. It was the necessity of cover over, especially after 'I did not have sex with that woman' became his last, best hope of defence. Unfortunately Tony Bear (a secret Catholic), was Labours last, best hope of ever being elected again, along with his faithful, trained 'attack dog', political bully boy and Minister for torture and persecution, John Presscoat. Openly embraced torture an political, religious persecution long before they rumbled into fortress Downing Street in their Jaguars. With plastic smiles, all the sincerity of used car salesmen and more spin without substance, than a washing machine. Political Chameleons all, one day red, then blue, green and red again. Being all things to all people, not only were they natural allies of George Brush (junior), they realised only to clearly the personal, political and financial benefits of patronage and favour.
Once elected with a political majority larger than the Blackpool tower, Tony Bear and John Presscoat set about selling off Britain and its remaining assets to the highest bidders in the 'car boot' sale of the century. Bear even secretly promised the Vatican he would make Britain into a predominately Catholic country for the first time since the reign of Henry VIII, even if it meant letting half of Poland into the county. While fervently, secretly supporting Cardinal Ratsinger's Catholic Inquisition against heretics, homosexuals and any who questioned the shared delusions of control freaks, those hearing God whispering constantly inside their heads and gigantic ego's the size of small planetoids.
In the land of the free, emerged a man incapable of sweating like all reptiles, with oil for blood and the righteous conviction of a mass murderer doing the Lord's bidding. A former Governor of Texas, so free it was enshrined in state law that employers could refuse to give someone a job if they were not a practising Christian.
George Brush (Junior) was an easy and natural Allie of New labour. Long before 'nine eleven' turned another lame duck Christian Fundamentalist administration into the righteous inheritors of the earth and founder members of the twenty-first century's first great Crusade. That Texas just happened to be the State with the most executions, all signed by the Governor George Brush (junior), should have been warning enough of what to expect from this Republican administration.
All 'nine eleven' did, was to make this relatively secret 'cottage industry' for the shrinking security forces along with the military and industrial complex under Clintin and the Democrats. Into the new growth sector as revenge and war without end against a linguistic concept, or anyone who failed to agree with their religious, monochromatic picture of a complex and interdependent world. This new pretext war, started coincidentally by the son of a close business associate to many in the Republican administration, Osman Bin Lardiron, coincidence or what? Became unquestionable justification for those touched by God and non to kindly from what I could see, while others felt it to be simply justifying the unjustifiable.
Schools of great white whales surfaced from the cold dark depths, where they feed. Sensing that their time had come again as the production lines of the military and industrial complex went twenty-four seven, the gloves were off and the rule books thrown away. Allowing the conscienceless prophets of greed and materialism, to make it up as they went along, getting richer and fatter from the proceeds of hate and endemic lies of the state, while they did. By creating a new twelfth century in which men were men and women chained to the kitchen sink and their own futility. Anything else was kicked to death or drowned in the horse-trough at birth. It was the same old, same old from Berock O'Barmy and his Democratic administration, still paranoid and committed to torture, political and religious persecution despite, or because of 'not having sex with that woman'.
Allegations of bull eying by Gordon Brawn and his sleazeball government of all the tyrants, is only a small part of the truth. Because systematic torturer, poisoning, harassment and every dirty trick in the book, along with a few not even documented yet, are endemic both inside and outside Downing Street. Not that I expected any different from man who not even the members of the Labour party good vote for or against in a leadership contest, simply because of a Granola promise and the fact he was the best, the only man for the job - what about free and fare elections? Or have Nazi lieing Labour completely abandoned human rights, commitment to the rule of law
along with freedom and democracy in favour of something more dictatorial?
Which is why John Presscoat's American friend Mister Andshits, 'Dude Ranch' owner, Christian Fundamentalist and millionaire, along with Cardinal Ratsinger (soon to become Pope Adolph the Persecutor and pedophile Priest protector), can persecute and torture with impunity in the UK, protected by corrupt politicians and police forces. After all, it was not just their expenses they abused and fiddled, when compliant Chief Constables and their police forces (Metropolitan and Humberside in particular)can routinely cover over appalling hate crimes and political corruption. Or why NASA (Nazi American Sicko Agency) can torture, drug, harass and assault individuals when ever they launch a space shuttle - though why they do this I have no idea but we are not dealing with rational, sane people. Thanks to O'Barmy and Clintin, under who torture (but not water boarding), political and religious persecution are worse than under George Brush and the republicans.
All it takes for evil to prosper, is for good men and woman to remain silent, shame on you all!
Still Torturing!
It was to much acclaim and world-wide publicity that the Golden One, Berock O'Barmy, so good he had to be sworn in twice as the forty fourth President of America. Announced, halo freshly polished, that his administration would ban 'water boarding' as a form of torture with immediate effect. While the media fools and clowns, ever eager, shone their spotlight upon the righteous after-birth deposited before the one chosen to absolve the inherent racism of a country founded upon the genocide of the indigenous American peoples and their cultures. Any who took the time to look closely at the distorting mirrors, hidden deep and dark within the thickening fogs of spin and spittle, would have noticed that thirteen approved methods of torture remained unaffected.
To be routinely, systematically used by the Democrats and their close friends around the world, along with a number of adaptations and variations from the creative minds of borderline psychotics and religious delusional. Whose ongoing love affair with torture and extra-judicial killings (wet work) did not just start after the infamous 'nine eleven' attacks. Because I know from personal experience, individuals were routinely tortured from the days of Ronald Raygun (American) and Matrgaret (keep torture in the community) Hatcher (United Kingdom). So entrenched and routine were these practices, they felt confident enough to sign a Geneva Convention banning the use of sleep deprivation, only to breach four hours later - the ink still wet on the paper - without any consequences.
A love affair continued with enthusiasm by George Brush (senior), especially after Saddam Hussun invaded Kuwait. Catching the Americans and its allies with their pants down, collectively wanking each other off. Though after the inevitable political assassination of Hatcher, forced to fall upon her infamous Poll Tax legislation. With the next British Prime Minister, John Manager, they lost a loyal supporter of systematic torture, in particular as a form of political and religious oppression, or persecution. To this day he remains the only British Prime Minister, not to routinely encourage and condone such shameful practices, despite his lengthy affair with a member of his cabinet.
As did the next American administration during the early months of Bill Clintin. At least until he joined the ranks of those serially cock sucked-off in the oval office. It was the necessity of cover over, especially after 'I did not have sex with that woman' became his last, best hope of defence. Unfortunately Tony Bear (a secret Catholic), was Labours last, best hope of ever being elected again, along with his faithful, trained 'attack dog', political bully boy and Minister for torture and persecution, John Presscoat. Openly embraced torture an political, religious persecution long before they rumbled into fortress Downing Street in their Jaguars. With plastic smiles, all the sincerity of used car salesmen and more spin without substance, than a washing machine. Political Chameleons all, one day red, then blue, green and red again. Being all things to all people, not only were they natural allies of George Brush (junior), they realised only to clearly the personal, political and financial benefits of patronage and favour.
Once elected with a political majority larger than the Blackpool tower, Tony Bear and John Presscoat set about selling off Britain and its remaining assets to the highest bidders in the 'car boot' sale of the century. Bear even secretly promised the Vatican he would make Britain into a predominately Catholic country for the first time since the reign of Henry VIII, even if it meant letting half of Poland into the county. While fervently, secretly supporting Cardinal Ratsinger's Catholic Inquisition against heretics, homosexuals and any who questioned the shared delusions of control freaks, those hearing God whispering constantly inside their heads and gigantic ego's the size of small planetoids.
In the land of the free, emerged a man incapable of sweating like all reptiles, with oil for blood and the righteous conviction of a mass murderer doing the Lord's bidding. A former Governor of Texas, so free it was enshrined in state law that employers could refuse to give someone a job if they were not a practising Christian.
George Brush (Junior) was an easy and natural Allie of New labour. Long before 'nine eleven' turned another lame duck Christian Fundamentalist administration into the righteous inheritors of the earth and founder members of the twenty-first century's first great Crusade. That Texas just happened to be the State with the most executions, all signed by the Governor George Brush (junior), should have been warning enough of what to expect from this Republican administration.
All 'nine eleven' did, was to make this relatively secret 'cottage industry' for the shrinking security forces along with the military and industrial complex under Clintin and the Democrats. Into the new growth sector as revenge and war without end against a linguistic concept, or anyone who failed to agree with their religious, monochromatic picture of a complex and interdependent world. This new pretext war, started coincidentally by the son of a close business associate to many in the Republican administration, Osman Bin Lardiron, coincidence or what? Became unquestionable justification for those touched by God and non to kindly from what I could see, while others felt it to be simply justifying the unjustifiable.
Schools of great white whales surfaced from the cold dark depths, where they feed. Sensing that their time had come again as the production lines of the military and industrial complex went twenty-four seven, the gloves were off and the rule books thrown away. Allowing the conscienceless prophets of greed and materialism, to make it up as they went along, getting richer and fatter from the proceeds of hate and endemic lies of the state, while they did. By creating a new twelfth century in which men were men and women chained to the kitchen sink and their own futility. Anything else was kicked to death or drowned in the horse-trough at birth. It was the same old, same old from Berock O'Barmy and his Democratic administration, still paranoid and committed to torture, political and religious persecution despite, or because of 'not having sex with that woman'.
Allegations of bull eying by Gordon Brawn and his sleazeball government of all the tyrants, is only a small part of the truth. Because systematic torturer, poisoning, harassment and every dirty trick in the book, along with a few not even documented yet, are endemic both inside and outside Downing Street. Not that I expected any different from man who not even the members of the Labour party good vote for or against in a leadership contest, simply because of a Granola promise and the fact he was the best, the only man for the job - what about free and fare elections? Or have Nazi lieing Labour completely abandoned human rights, commitment to the rule of law
along with freedom and democracy in favour of something more dictatorial?
Which is why John Presscoat's American friend Mister Andshits, 'Dude Ranch' owner, Christian Fundamentalist and millionaire, along with Cardinal Ratsinger (soon to become Pope Adolph the Persecutor and pedophile Priest protector), can persecute and torture with impunity in the UK, protected by corrupt politicians and police forces. After all, it was not just their expenses they abused and fiddled, when compliant Chief Constables and their police forces (Metropolitan and Humberside in particular)can routinely cover over appalling hate crimes and political corruption. Or why NASA (Nazi American Sicko Agency) can torture, drug, harass and assault individuals when ever they launch a space shuttle - though why they do this I have no idea but we are not dealing with rational, sane people. Thanks to O'Barmy and Clintin, under who torture (but not water boarding), political and religious persecution are worse than under George Brush and the republicans.
All it takes for evil to prosper, is for good men and woman to remain silent, shame on you all!
Monday, 15 March 2010
Worlds within Worlds
Of course there are realities within realities, truths within truths, lies within lies and if we are to believe some scientists, worlds within worlds. All inexorably bound together by thin threads of time and space, into a shimmering web of infinite possibility and potential; delicately balanced by conflicting gravity's somewhere between past and future, light and dark, good and evil, life and death. Only the names and places have been changed to protect the innocent and guilty.
The Iraq Inquiry
In the week before Gordon Brawn gave evidence to the Iraq inquiry felt like being sat on by a bullying bull elephant in musk and as the last futile gasps were forcefully squeezed out, gallons of brown with a hint of irony poured over everyone from the leaking Victorian sewers under Westminster. When inquiry members became white faced clowns for the day. Specially trained in the Latte karate market arts not to bit the hand that feeds; the office of State that rises all born with the conscienceless gift of Fibonacci lies and the cold blood of reptiles, to the House of Lords and liars. Vibrant heart of beneficial bonus culture and unaccountable elected/unelected dictatorships. Before the self serving Ministry of Minions and the blessings of daily re-birth in the patented regeneration cabinets and media's distorting mirrors.
You could see from the deference sprayed like gourmet air freshener, essence of gold bullion and old masters upon those whose bottoms were sniffed and licked by lower status pack members, as greeting and the indifference of congenital subservience. A 'silver back' male gorilla and his trained convoy of water porers and ego smoothersarriving at the front door with all the shameless disregard of men convinced of their own innocence, at least before an inquiry they convened and controlled at the end of the pier, end of the summer season, end of the credit boom and bust recycling of Keynesian history in the timeless, crimeless worlds of coke snorting high finance and the international markets.
Sexual addiction not just a constant dribble of drivel from the corners of their ever open mouths but a fundamental right, within the constituents of greed and affiliations of personal need. Gordon, the dominant political 'silver back' sat upon a silvaneour 'stone of scone' inflatable cushion, beating his chest with the commitment and enthusiasm of someone playing the bongo drums and annoying the neighbours. Before leading Labours lost tribes across rivers of bland, lofty sounding vacuous rhetoric and prophetic warning from this years crop of creative writing courses and the diarist of diarist's. The inconsequential dull brown birds tweeting constantly upon the Internet for the fast buck merchants, short sellers and commodity markets around the electronic world.
Speaking for hours that at times felt like days as collectively, we drifted into and out of hypnotic trance. Occasionally managing a forced, alien grin of contempt upon the granite features of the Joker from a recent Batman film. But not actually answering any of the previously agreed and rehearsed questions. The white faced clowns wearing kid gloves respectfully put to he who must be obeyed - Celtic warrior Priest of the feted bogs and stinking sewers under the Rats Palace (Westminster). Lord and master of a government of all the tyrants. General in the terracotta army of nodding dog politicians with the charisma and personality of an unlucky piece of Scottish white heather or dead ptarmigan.
Whispering seductively, secretly while occasionally managing to speak, smile and make semi apologetic hand gestures all at the same time,without answering a single question. Or resorting to prompt notes once the implanted electrode in his befuddled brain, overheated and stopped working. He just smiled secretly, serenely, knowing that technically he was not actually lying, just being economical with the truth as another version of immediate history was spun upon the potters-wheel, another sacred relic from the 'Beaker People' all form and no substance. Besides, any marginal damage his omissions of truth caused, would soon be cured by another action man photo opportunity. When he flew like a conquering hero into Afghanistan and the 'great game'.
Playing the led role in Carry On Up The Khyber thanks to a decade of his economic policy, the Iron Chancellor, a man who one day would be King of a 'Granola Promise' and unelected Prime Minister. Despite thirteen years of New Labour economic and foreign policy, this was a man who never saw the Juggernaut coming until the accident was over and the motorway blocked in both directions. Air heavy and thick with Eu de toilet of hypocrisy and certainty of last nights whisky wisdom. Because with all his confidence in the contrived conspiracies of silence, he gave the military everything they asked for.
Which was why front-line British troops died for want of personal body armour during the second Gulf War. Or increasing numbers were blown apart because of inadequate training and Snatch Land Rovers. While of those who survived the initial battlefield trauma, many were lost due to insufficient numbers of helicopters for medi-vac, transportation and assault operations in theatre. Because with all the humility of a bully and more close protection than God, he as Iron Chancellor gave the military everything they asked for. Despite not even knowing what was going on within the black hole Labour politics made cabinet government into.
Born of a pulsating tartan chrysalis, tended by sleepless machines, supercomputers, voice and acting coaches, public relations men and politics Priestly class, the semi divine spin Doctor's and opinion pollsters. Gordon had become whatever it was they said would win the next general election before walking through walls, upon water and over international and national law for the political convenience of vengeance without justice and might is always right politics. Of those born to success, wealth, the comforts of power and bing, bang, bung religion of men promised the ruptured 'rapture' of the chosen and blessed. Those talking in tongues the international language of the flipping, fooling, fiddling men and their friends, the giant Bung Beetles who push steaming sleazeballs and their three magic beans for a cow 'O' level economics around Westminster's gold paved streets.
Like Rob Roy dancing upon thin ice, Gorden came out of the mist, kilt blowing around his head and genitalia hanging like dried-up prunes and an uncooked pork sausage. Waving ledger and day books as if the combined damnation of the old and new testament, a misogynists dream of slavery and service, mixed with a cold Calvinistic love of violence and deep fried Mars Bars. Granite hard and twice as sneaky as a hungry snake in the grass. With more than the odd share in the distilling industry and clean, efficient, eco friendly nuclear power - shame the waste material has a half life of fifty thousand years, still that will be someone elses problem like global warming and war without end.
At least it keeps the military and industrial complexes production lines working at full capacity. While beneath the Hollywood make-up and clever prosthetics, even the crocodile tear machine failed in the humidity, knee deep in spin and spittle as the paid arse lickers puckered-up and media prostitutes remembered to spit and not swallow.
Shuffling and squirming beneath the latex prosthetics making him look almost human and not a blob of decomposing pre-Cambrian monster washed up on the shore of Loch Mess. Miniature motors whirring and squeaking, they forced a dead man's smile and alien hand gesture to emphasis the vacuous, obtuse answer to a question they had not asked. So good were the prosthetics, make-up and computer designed scenery, not a nervous twitch ot tick, nor a single bead of sweat showed upon the granite hard exterior of the best computer rendering in the business, by Prixareus and New House of Nightmares Inc. For in the kingdom of the blind, the one eyed man is King.
Shape-shifting for convenience and personal amusement, born of sterile laboratories and cold test-tubes from the selective splicing of targeted gene sequences. He had been created by the image consultants and focus group magicians, Frankensteins monster created for a single purpose, other than New Labour's three magic beans for a cow 'O' level economics, a boom and bust fairground ride through dizzying blurs of colour and stomach emptying vertical drops , each time further still up Shit Creek without a paddle. As the labour government went on spend, spend, spending other people's money to buy again the legitimised criminality of politics popular television game show, 'Last Man Standing'. To win or steal his own election victory with more of the same and an acting coached smile that made him look like the Joker from a Batman film.
To read about the military programme used as a basis for America's fifteen tenents of torture go to nemesis-ser.spaces.live.com/blog
The Iraq Inquiry
In the week before Gordon Brawn gave evidence to the Iraq inquiry felt like being sat on by a bullying bull elephant in musk and as the last futile gasps were forcefully squeezed out, gallons of brown with a hint of irony poured over everyone from the leaking Victorian sewers under Westminster. When inquiry members became white faced clowns for the day. Specially trained in the Latte karate market arts not to bit the hand that feeds; the office of State that rises all born with the conscienceless gift of Fibonacci lies and the cold blood of reptiles, to the House of Lords and liars. Vibrant heart of beneficial bonus culture and unaccountable elected/unelected dictatorships. Before the self serving Ministry of Minions and the blessings of daily re-birth in the patented regeneration cabinets and media's distorting mirrors.
You could see from the deference sprayed like gourmet air freshener, essence of gold bullion and old masters upon those whose bottoms were sniffed and licked by lower status pack members, as greeting and the indifference of congenital subservience. A 'silver back' male gorilla and his trained convoy of water porers and ego smoothersarriving at the front door with all the shameless disregard of men convinced of their own innocence, at least before an inquiry they convened and controlled at the end of the pier, end of the summer season, end of the credit boom and bust recycling of Keynesian history in the timeless, crimeless worlds of coke snorting high finance and the international markets.
Sexual addiction not just a constant dribble of drivel from the corners of their ever open mouths but a fundamental right, within the constituents of greed and affiliations of personal need. Gordon, the dominant political 'silver back' sat upon a silvaneour 'stone of scone' inflatable cushion, beating his chest with the commitment and enthusiasm of someone playing the bongo drums and annoying the neighbours. Before leading Labours lost tribes across rivers of bland, lofty sounding vacuous rhetoric and prophetic warning from this years crop of creative writing courses and the diarist of diarist's. The inconsequential dull brown birds tweeting constantly upon the Internet for the fast buck merchants, short sellers and commodity markets around the electronic world.
Speaking for hours that at times felt like days as collectively, we drifted into and out of hypnotic trance. Occasionally managing a forced, alien grin of contempt upon the granite features of the Joker from a recent Batman film. But not actually answering any of the previously agreed and rehearsed questions. The white faced clowns wearing kid gloves respectfully put to he who must be obeyed - Celtic warrior Priest of the feted bogs and stinking sewers under the Rats Palace (Westminster). Lord and master of a government of all the tyrants. General in the terracotta army of nodding dog politicians with the charisma and personality of an unlucky piece of Scottish white heather or dead ptarmigan.
Whispering seductively, secretly while occasionally managing to speak, smile and make semi apologetic hand gestures all at the same time,without answering a single question. Or resorting to prompt notes once the implanted electrode in his befuddled brain, overheated and stopped working. He just smiled secretly, serenely, knowing that technically he was not actually lying, just being economical with the truth as another version of immediate history was spun upon the potters-wheel, another sacred relic from the 'Beaker People' all form and no substance. Besides, any marginal damage his omissions of truth caused, would soon be cured by another action man photo opportunity. When he flew like a conquering hero into Afghanistan and the 'great game'.
Playing the led role in Carry On Up The Khyber thanks to a decade of his economic policy, the Iron Chancellor, a man who one day would be King of a 'Granola Promise' and unelected Prime Minister. Despite thirteen years of New Labour economic and foreign policy, this was a man who never saw the Juggernaut coming until the accident was over and the motorway blocked in both directions. Air heavy and thick with Eu de toilet of hypocrisy and certainty of last nights whisky wisdom. Because with all his confidence in the contrived conspiracies of silence, he gave the military everything they asked for.
Which was why front-line British troops died for want of personal body armour during the second Gulf War. Or increasing numbers were blown apart because of inadequate training and Snatch Land Rovers. While of those who survived the initial battlefield trauma, many were lost due to insufficient numbers of helicopters for medi-vac, transportation and assault operations in theatre. Because with all the humility of a bully and more close protection than God, he as Iron Chancellor gave the military everything they asked for. Despite not even knowing what was going on within the black hole Labour politics made cabinet government into.
Born of a pulsating tartan chrysalis, tended by sleepless machines, supercomputers, voice and acting coaches, public relations men and politics Priestly class, the semi divine spin Doctor's and opinion pollsters. Gordon had become whatever it was they said would win the next general election before walking through walls, upon water and over international and national law for the political convenience of vengeance without justice and might is always right politics. Of those born to success, wealth, the comforts of power and bing, bang, bung religion of men promised the ruptured 'rapture' of the chosen and blessed. Those talking in tongues the international language of the flipping, fooling, fiddling men and their friends, the giant Bung Beetles who push steaming sleazeballs and their three magic beans for a cow 'O' level economics around Westminster's gold paved streets.
Like Rob Roy dancing upon thin ice, Gorden came out of the mist, kilt blowing around his head and genitalia hanging like dried-up prunes and an uncooked pork sausage. Waving ledger and day books as if the combined damnation of the old and new testament, a misogynists dream of slavery and service, mixed with a cold Calvinistic love of violence and deep fried Mars Bars. Granite hard and twice as sneaky as a hungry snake in the grass. With more than the odd share in the distilling industry and clean, efficient, eco friendly nuclear power - shame the waste material has a half life of fifty thousand years, still that will be someone elses problem like global warming and war without end.
At least it keeps the military and industrial complexes production lines working at full capacity. While beneath the Hollywood make-up and clever prosthetics, even the crocodile tear machine failed in the humidity, knee deep in spin and spittle as the paid arse lickers puckered-up and media prostitutes remembered to spit and not swallow.
Shuffling and squirming beneath the latex prosthetics making him look almost human and not a blob of decomposing pre-Cambrian monster washed up on the shore of Loch Mess. Miniature motors whirring and squeaking, they forced a dead man's smile and alien hand gesture to emphasis the vacuous, obtuse answer to a question they had not asked. So good were the prosthetics, make-up and computer designed scenery, not a nervous twitch ot tick, nor a single bead of sweat showed upon the granite hard exterior of the best computer rendering in the business, by Prixareus and New House of Nightmares Inc. For in the kingdom of the blind, the one eyed man is King.
Shape-shifting for convenience and personal amusement, born of sterile laboratories and cold test-tubes from the selective splicing of targeted gene sequences. He had been created by the image consultants and focus group magicians, Frankensteins monster created for a single purpose, other than New Labour's three magic beans for a cow 'O' level economics, a boom and bust fairground ride through dizzying blurs of colour and stomach emptying vertical drops , each time further still up Shit Creek without a paddle. As the labour government went on spend, spend, spending other people's money to buy again the legitimised criminality of politics popular television game show, 'Last Man Standing'. To win or steal his own election victory with more of the same and an acting coached smile that made him look like the Joker from a Batman film.
To read about the military programme used as a basis for America's fifteen tenents of torture go to nemesis-ser.spaces.live.com/blog
Tuesday, 9 February 2010
The World Of Shadows
Of course there are realities within realities, truths within truths, lies within lies and if we are to believe some scientists, worlds within worlds. All inexorably bound together by thin threads of time and space, into a shimmering web of infinite possibility and potential; delicately balanced by conflicting forces somewhere between past and future, light and dark, good and evil, life and death only the names and places have been changed to protect the innocent and the guilty.
The Iraq Inquiry
Bla, bla, bla ... the same shameless litany of lies and liars ... from the same old criminals ... bla, bla, bla ... telling the same gold plated lies ... bla, bla, bla ... shame upon you all!
The latest Iraq Inquiry blog is only available at http://nemesis-ser.spaces.live.com/blog
The Fibonacci Lie Sequence (Prime)
The power of Fibonacci lies was not just that they grew, multiplied and resonated with near perfect pitch amongst the food of worms. Such are the intricacy and complexity of Fibonacci lies they touched all aspects of a shared humanity. Archetypes, metaphors, allegories, simile and symbol in every history man has sought comfort and guidance from. They formed about religion, rite and ritual performed to bring blessing and personal success by man's Priests. Becoming the last best hope of the desperate and traumatised, when faced with death and damnation from a vengeful God.
They provided religious, social and personal control in a chaotic universe of malevolent God's, demons and desires Devils. Lies so great, having achieved a critical mass through constantly being told and retold, they could never be untold, or the knots holding them together, unfastened without enduring the very fabric of the universe and bringing about the 'end of days'. A time of tribulation and judgement heralding the second coming, long foretold in the old testament and various other teachings of questionable provenience and interpretation.
Through incorporation and ritual invocation, power became the universal commodity of personal success. Whose only comfort before the terrors of omnipotence and inequalities of creation, came by making their God's from the same old, same old reassurances of a dominant male power base who along with their intermediaries, the eager and compliant Priests of hate and another bloody inquisition, swept like a plague across the European mainland and around the world.
They are the cornerstone around which every conceivable form of prison was constructed. Like immutable universal constructs they could not be changed, except deep within the mists of history, following another year zero. When custom, tradition and the reassurances of a shared past were abandoned and discarded in order to progress, to be freed from the chains of yesterday. Only to be imprisoned by the necessities of today and promises of tomorrow.
Tough in schools from the child's very first day, they were crammed like cotton-wool balls into
impressionable emptiness as if the self evident rules and laws of a science, a truth such as the sky is blue. Included in every child's curriculum along with mathematics, geography, science and Latin. There is to be no escaping these consequences, these acceptances, binding together civilizations with a shared collective consciousness and the delusions of the mad. Due to the hard-wiring of that monkey brain, the physiology of being and remembering beyond evolutions primal needs and purposes.
These are lies that changed the world, lies so powerful and all consuming that like black holes they absorbed everything around them. Bending time and space into grotesque structures, contortions of form and random combinations beyond the all consuming lip of the event horizon. Where normal laws no longer gave even the most recognisable of reference points, deep in the honeycomb of squirming worm holes and vibrant portals, splits in the fabric space where time-storms raged without end, spinning universes like Frisbees across the cold black emptiness of space. Reversing like magnetic polarities as the pressures stretched and twisted all it consumed, creating new universes, alien throws of stars sparkling in coal black sky's for the inquisitive and aware to wonder and dream about.
Fibonacci lies formed and referenced every lie within the mathematical progression and
sequence of history. The delusions of the deluded chaining everything past, present and future to the perfection of law and structure like a moon to its planet, never to be separated. Swirling sub-atomic universes of neutrons, protons and atoms within the shared laws of structure, the attractions and repulsions of form beyond the atrophy of material matter. Fibonacci lies became the indispensable foundations of the simplest walls, deep within the most complex and insidious prison of all, modern society and the virtual reality of technological totalitarianism. With its limiting illusions of choice and personal freedom inside the transparent mazes and laboratory experiments of sciences shiny new future in a brave new world for those lobotomised, or of limited conscience and intelligence.
The Iraq Inquiry
Bla, bla, bla ... the same shameless litany of lies and liars ... from the same old criminals ... bla, bla, bla ... telling the same gold plated lies ... bla, bla, bla ... shame upon you all!
The latest Iraq Inquiry blog is only available at http://nemesis-ser.spaces.live.com/blog
The Fibonacci Lie Sequence (Prime)
The power of Fibonacci lies was not just that they grew, multiplied and resonated with near perfect pitch amongst the food of worms. Such are the intricacy and complexity of Fibonacci lies they touched all aspects of a shared humanity. Archetypes, metaphors, allegories, simile and symbol in every history man has sought comfort and guidance from. They formed about religion, rite and ritual performed to bring blessing and personal success by man's Priests. Becoming the last best hope of the desperate and traumatised, when faced with death and damnation from a vengeful God.
They provided religious, social and personal control in a chaotic universe of malevolent God's, demons and desires Devils. Lies so great, having achieved a critical mass through constantly being told and retold, they could never be untold, or the knots holding them together, unfastened without enduring the very fabric of the universe and bringing about the 'end of days'. A time of tribulation and judgement heralding the second coming, long foretold in the old testament and various other teachings of questionable provenience and interpretation.
Through incorporation and ritual invocation, power became the universal commodity of personal success. Whose only comfort before the terrors of omnipotence and inequalities of creation, came by making their God's from the same old, same old reassurances of a dominant male power base who along with their intermediaries, the eager and compliant Priests of hate and another bloody inquisition, swept like a plague across the European mainland and around the world.
They are the cornerstone around which every conceivable form of prison was constructed. Like immutable universal constructs they could not be changed, except deep within the mists of history, following another year zero. When custom, tradition and the reassurances of a shared past were abandoned and discarded in order to progress, to be freed from the chains of yesterday. Only to be imprisoned by the necessities of today and promises of tomorrow.
Tough in schools from the child's very first day, they were crammed like cotton-wool balls into
impressionable emptiness as if the self evident rules and laws of a science, a truth such as the sky is blue. Included in every child's curriculum along with mathematics, geography, science and Latin. There is to be no escaping these consequences, these acceptances, binding together civilizations with a shared collective consciousness and the delusions of the mad. Due to the hard-wiring of that monkey brain, the physiology of being and remembering beyond evolutions primal needs and purposes.
These are lies that changed the world, lies so powerful and all consuming that like black holes they absorbed everything around them. Bending time and space into grotesque structures, contortions of form and random combinations beyond the all consuming lip of the event horizon. Where normal laws no longer gave even the most recognisable of reference points, deep in the honeycomb of squirming worm holes and vibrant portals, splits in the fabric space where time-storms raged without end, spinning universes like Frisbees across the cold black emptiness of space. Reversing like magnetic polarities as the pressures stretched and twisted all it consumed, creating new universes, alien throws of stars sparkling in coal black sky's for the inquisitive and aware to wonder and dream about.
Fibonacci lies formed and referenced every lie within the mathematical progression and
sequence of history. The delusions of the deluded chaining everything past, present and future to the perfection of law and structure like a moon to its planet, never to be separated. Swirling sub-atomic universes of neutrons, protons and atoms within the shared laws of structure, the attractions and repulsions of form beyond the atrophy of material matter. Fibonacci lies became the indispensable foundations of the simplest walls, deep within the most complex and insidious prison of all, modern society and the virtual reality of technological totalitarianism. With its limiting illusions of choice and personal freedom inside the transparent mazes and laboratory experiments of sciences shiny new future in a brave new world for those lobotomised, or of limited conscience and intelligence.
Where dreams of fortune, success and the instant soup of instant stardom before the flat-screen, flat headed Neanderthals of life by proxy for the living dead of television audiences and Hammer horror, was all that mattered. To the obese, stuffed couch potatoes of taxidermy politics and the spin Doctors deceptive arts within the magic cabinets and distorting mirrors of the twenty four seven media monster. Doctor Frankensteins latest creation with a visual cortex swollen to twice its normal size, an abnormally strong remote control hand and fingers, with a reused mind the size of a walnut, attention span of a Horseshoe Bat with anorexia and reading age of a nine by four London brick.
Fibonacci lies formed the main pillars of human consciousness, the imagination, dreams, hopes, fears, memories and understandings of life as a mathematical progression, the golden mean of elected dictators. It was Fibonacci lies that first made Tony Bear and his deputy, John Presscoat into bully boy politicians with a four by four disposition, love of torture and religious persecution long before the justification of 'nine eleven' and the personality of rusted ball bearings. Away from the regeneration cabinets of the chosen, when main-lining power from the National Grid, they blacked out half the west midlands to become the latest talking head in the max effect dream studios, blessed with the gift of Fibonacci lies at birth.
Monday, 18 January 2010
The World Of Shadows
Of course there are realities within realities, truths within truths, lies within lies and if we are to believe some scientists, worlds within worlds. All inexorably bound together by thin threads of time and space, into a simmering web of infinite possibility and potential; delicately balanced by conflicting gravity's somewhere between past and future, light and dark, good and evil, life and death. Only the names and places have been changed to protect both the innocent and the guilty.
The Iraq Inquiry
Mad government media magician conjures up the perfect, earth moving 'white out' to add to copious amounts of whitewash with a hint of brown.
Tuesday in early January and a new decade, in which to again tell the same old sordid lies and collective delusions. Government whitewash with a hint of brown production, had started again as filled with Christmas pudding and a whole sack of promises and favour, the Chillcoat inquiry sat sympathetic and non judgemental. While another of the notorious 'Witches of Westminster', creators of potions, spin and that iconic work of fantasy and fiction, the Iraq and weapons of mass distraction dodgy dossier, another doctored 'log book' from 'cut and shunt' wreckers for the smiling used car salesman Tony Bear, to force upon unwilling customers.
The Black Witch himself, creator of monsters and an army of mechanical, wind-up toys loosed upon an unsuspecting world. As in the sterile laboratory's and Pyrex test tubes life was created anew each bright new media morning from a true piece of the Lords cross, the rendered fat of a Koala Bear and a wart from John Presscoats left foot. Amongst the misinformation and manipulation of those murderous monstrosities, hidden in the vacuous spin of men still mad all these years later, still unable to admit to the world or themselves that Iraq had no weapons of mass destruction, then or now. Because Coalition forces made sure of that during the six week air campaign marking the start of the First Gulf War.
When Tony Bear's mad, manic media magician, creator of demons and denizens to torment and destroy, Alister Crumble conjured up the perfect, earth moving 'white out' to add to the copious amounts of whitewash with a hint of brown.
Five hours of deluded lies and selfobssesed rambling to say what could be said in five words: 'We lied and lied again!'
The problem with religious delusional and the mad, is the fact that they believe their own lies. While the inescapable web they weave in order to deceive, grows ever more voluminous like the torturous rhetoric of the manic spin doctors. Waiving their arms frantically, naked under a full moon, drinking Pimms from the wrong side of the glass as they conjure up another variation of the monstrosities they create, far from the light of day and further still from truth and the inconveniences of a reality they can not control. Cardboard kaleidoscope in hand, painting again rainbows with pixie dust and the latest computer graphics - can you see what it is yet?
They shaped events according to their economic and personal needs, always benefiting the 'fat prat's' of the military and industrial complex. With their demanding twenty four seven production lines to feed the new markets for a new kind of war, an asymmetrical war against a linguistic concept along with the ghosts hiding within its social histories, sordid state secrets and the hollow justification of the mad and bed. Those who spoke in tongues of the imaginary dangers Saddam Hussun's Iraq posed to the world. While kissing snakes and rolling their blank, starring eye's at the mobile telephone camera's and eager bank managers. The Holy Spirit squirming and twisting as the dollar's came flowing into another redemption 'fire sake' for the deluded and desperate.
The foundation of contemporary democracy in the United Kingdom, cabinet government. Long ago butchered for a Granola promise and the personal benefits of control freaks, tricksters, changelings, shape shifters and spinning men. Left to rot upon the black and gold railings of fortress Downing Street, a stark warning to any who doubted the visionary politics of Tony Bear and his trained pets, the big black Vultures who say around the cabinet table waiting for the bing, bang, bung, bonus culture to come calling. Before flipping, fleecing, fiddling and fooling the British electorate with the people's politics of Trotsky and Starlin.
During another devastating 'Cultural Revolution', year zero when the people of London, mesmerised, brainwashed and hypnotised were marched out into the killing fields of the Thames marshes and wild silences. Whose memory was a whisper, a cold draft of wind in a world long before the mind rotting banality of 'International, Celebrity, Get me out of Big Brother and the poverty of media mediocrity, factor XXY show.
The petrification of stultification for those not so clever Monkeys, who evolved into couch potatoes, blobs of luminous white fat returning to the state of single cell amoeba and protoplasm in the media's primal, prime time pools, endorsed by Chuck Chuck and sixty seven randomly selected feral cat's. Now available at your local McDanold for those super sized into stupidity by a secret mix of the latest mind control pharmaceuticals and fluoride.
If the demonic spin doctor's and media magicians plausible delusions were not bad enough, arms flapping and eyes rolling as the turned lead into gold and lies into truth. Those they cast their faulted magic for, the Sainted, visionary warrior leaders George Brush and his trained yapping-dog Tony Bear. Lived far beyond the harsh realities of life in the real world, in the cold, dark depths of the deepest ocean trenches, where the immense pressures squashed and squeezed the unstable forms they became. Not only did they use the same toothpaste and dental hygienist, the Central Intelligence Agency, to snap off the teeth of any stupid enough to tell the truth and believe in the rule of law.
They shared religious delusions the way young girl's share clothes and make-up. When both men, wild eyed and wobbly, admitted to the media that God spoke to them. Though neither explained if this was by telephone, or a series of flashing lights and tones as the voices inside their heads grow wilder than before. Tony Bear, serious as an undertaker, his kaleidoscope eye twitching nervously as it grew perceptibly larger than the other eye. Admitted live on camera, not only did God constantly talk to him, he told Tony to invade Iraq and turn the United Kingdom into a predominantly Catholic county by allowing half of Poland to move to Shepard's Bush and set up plumbing businesses.
There was a time when hearing voices inside your head was evident witchcraft and the surest way known to get yourself burnt alive. Though in our slightly more aware and scientific times, i.e. not the twelfth century. Such voices were regarded by the medical establishment as being symptomatic of metal illness in one or more of its forms. Which, depending upon the nature and severity of the illness could get you lobotomised, a course of elector shock therapy and locked away in a secure Victorian mental asylum for the rest of your natural.
But not the dynamic duo, Batman and Robin, or George and Tony as they were known during their day jobs. Most people hearing this historical confession - God told them to invade Iraq - who's jaw's dropped to the floor or could not stop laughing, exchanged concerned glances then smiled thinking it sound bite politics and hollow, meaningless spin. That as if sparkly 'party string', just came squirting from the darkness full face and personal. Only this was no homely, mum's apple pie and homemade lemonade moment. All warn, secure and fluffy in the pit of your stomach. It was complete disbelief and terror at the fact men who claimed to hear the voice of God telling them to invade Iraq, had unfettered access to the worlds largest nuclear arsenal and standing army.
Link to more about the Iraq inquiry at http://www.nemesis-ser.spaces.live.com/blog
To read extracts from The World of Shadows, a series of novels banned and blocked by New Libore for telling the truth, go go http://writing.com/authors/nemisis
The Iraq Inquiry
Mad government media magician conjures up the perfect, earth moving 'white out' to add to copious amounts of whitewash with a hint of brown.
Tuesday in early January and a new decade, in which to again tell the same old sordid lies and collective delusions. Government whitewash with a hint of brown production, had started again as filled with Christmas pudding and a whole sack of promises and favour, the Chillcoat inquiry sat sympathetic and non judgemental. While another of the notorious 'Witches of Westminster', creators of potions, spin and that iconic work of fantasy and fiction, the Iraq and weapons of mass distraction dodgy dossier, another doctored 'log book' from 'cut and shunt' wreckers for the smiling used car salesman Tony Bear, to force upon unwilling customers.
The Black Witch himself, creator of monsters and an army of mechanical, wind-up toys loosed upon an unsuspecting world. As in the sterile laboratory's and Pyrex test tubes life was created anew each bright new media morning from a true piece of the Lords cross, the rendered fat of a Koala Bear and a wart from John Presscoats left foot. Amongst the misinformation and manipulation of those murderous monstrosities, hidden in the vacuous spin of men still mad all these years later, still unable to admit to the world or themselves that Iraq had no weapons of mass destruction, then or now. Because Coalition forces made sure of that during the six week air campaign marking the start of the First Gulf War.
When Tony Bear's mad, manic media magician, creator of demons and denizens to torment and destroy, Alister Crumble conjured up the perfect, earth moving 'white out' to add to the copious amounts of whitewash with a hint of brown.
Five hours of deluded lies and selfobssesed rambling to say what could be said in five words: 'We lied and lied again!'
The problem with religious delusional and the mad, is the fact that they believe their own lies. While the inescapable web they weave in order to deceive, grows ever more voluminous like the torturous rhetoric of the manic spin doctors. Waiving their arms frantically, naked under a full moon, drinking Pimms from the wrong side of the glass as they conjure up another variation of the monstrosities they create, far from the light of day and further still from truth and the inconveniences of a reality they can not control. Cardboard kaleidoscope in hand, painting again rainbows with pixie dust and the latest computer graphics - can you see what it is yet?
They shaped events according to their economic and personal needs, always benefiting the 'fat prat's' of the military and industrial complex. With their demanding twenty four seven production lines to feed the new markets for a new kind of war, an asymmetrical war against a linguistic concept along with the ghosts hiding within its social histories, sordid state secrets and the hollow justification of the mad and bed. Those who spoke in tongues of the imaginary dangers Saddam Hussun's Iraq posed to the world. While kissing snakes and rolling their blank, starring eye's at the mobile telephone camera's and eager bank managers. The Holy Spirit squirming and twisting as the dollar's came flowing into another redemption 'fire sake' for the deluded and desperate.
The foundation of contemporary democracy in the United Kingdom, cabinet government. Long ago butchered for a Granola promise and the personal benefits of control freaks, tricksters, changelings, shape shifters and spinning men. Left to rot upon the black and gold railings of fortress Downing Street, a stark warning to any who doubted the visionary politics of Tony Bear and his trained pets, the big black Vultures who say around the cabinet table waiting for the bing, bang, bung, bonus culture to come calling. Before flipping, fleecing, fiddling and fooling the British electorate with the people's politics of Trotsky and Starlin.
During another devastating 'Cultural Revolution', year zero when the people of London, mesmerised, brainwashed and hypnotised were marched out into the killing fields of the Thames marshes and wild silences. Whose memory was a whisper, a cold draft of wind in a world long before the mind rotting banality of 'International, Celebrity, Get me out of Big Brother and the poverty of media mediocrity, factor XXY show.
The petrification of stultification for those not so clever Monkeys, who evolved into couch potatoes, blobs of luminous white fat returning to the state of single cell amoeba and protoplasm in the media's primal, prime time pools, endorsed by Chuck Chuck and sixty seven randomly selected feral cat's. Now available at your local McDanold for those super sized into stupidity by a secret mix of the latest mind control pharmaceuticals and fluoride.
If the demonic spin doctor's and media magicians plausible delusions were not bad enough, arms flapping and eyes rolling as the turned lead into gold and lies into truth. Those they cast their faulted magic for, the Sainted, visionary warrior leaders George Brush and his trained yapping-dog Tony Bear. Lived far beyond the harsh realities of life in the real world, in the cold, dark depths of the deepest ocean trenches, where the immense pressures squashed and squeezed the unstable forms they became. Not only did they use the same toothpaste and dental hygienist, the Central Intelligence Agency, to snap off the teeth of any stupid enough to tell the truth and believe in the rule of law.
They shared religious delusions the way young girl's share clothes and make-up. When both men, wild eyed and wobbly, admitted to the media that God spoke to them. Though neither explained if this was by telephone, or a series of flashing lights and tones as the voices inside their heads grow wilder than before. Tony Bear, serious as an undertaker, his kaleidoscope eye twitching nervously as it grew perceptibly larger than the other eye. Admitted live on camera, not only did God constantly talk to him, he told Tony to invade Iraq and turn the United Kingdom into a predominantly Catholic county by allowing half of Poland to move to Shepard's Bush and set up plumbing businesses.
There was a time when hearing voices inside your head was evident witchcraft and the surest way known to get yourself burnt alive. Though in our slightly more aware and scientific times, i.e. not the twelfth century. Such voices were regarded by the medical establishment as being symptomatic of metal illness in one or more of its forms. Which, depending upon the nature and severity of the illness could get you lobotomised, a course of elector shock therapy and locked away in a secure Victorian mental asylum for the rest of your natural.
But not the dynamic duo, Batman and Robin, or George and Tony as they were known during their day jobs. Most people hearing this historical confession - God told them to invade Iraq - who's jaw's dropped to the floor or could not stop laughing, exchanged concerned glances then smiled thinking it sound bite politics and hollow, meaningless spin. That as if sparkly 'party string', just came squirting from the darkness full face and personal. Only this was no homely, mum's apple pie and homemade lemonade moment. All warn, secure and fluffy in the pit of your stomach. It was complete disbelief and terror at the fact men who claimed to hear the voice of God telling them to invade Iraq, had unfettered access to the worlds largest nuclear arsenal and standing army.
Link to more about the Iraq inquiry at http://www.nemesis-ser.spaces.live.com/blog
To read extracts from The World of Shadows, a series of novels banned and blocked by New Libore for telling the truth, go go http://writing.com/authors/nemisis
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