Friday, 25 December 2009

Christmas Fare

Let Mr. Gore and Co.,
As they're eating crow,
wash it down with snow
where the doggies go!

Sunday, 20 December 2009

Internet Idioms of idiocy or, Nightmare on Alms Street

I had criticized a certain internet personality's usage whereupon she hauled me up before the HRC, who invited me to respond to the charges of "offensive, hurtful, unhelpful" language and stirring up reason among the majority. I declared my guilt outright, throwing myself upon the mercy of the Kangaroo court, whereupon the frump presiding over the proceedings demanded to know what I was inferring, whereupon I told her that I was inferring that she did not know the meaning of infer. She then loudly commanded that I refrain from flaunting the conventions of standard inoffensiveness. I stood amazed that anyone, even a kangaroo, could so unashamedly flout the laws of semantics. Laughing all the way to the bank after being awarded my entire life savings, the complainant told me, now crying in the same banal idiom all the way to the poorhouse, that she hoped I felt properly decimated, to which I asked would she be so tolerant as to leave me one tenth to survive on, to stave off starvation. "I could care less," she laughed. Then you do care, I exclaimed. She frowned in incomprehension and replied that I was begging the question of how a beggar could ever question her. She taunted me that hunger was an addiction that I should seek help in overcoming. After I called her a heartless niggard she underwent a panic attack and I was immediately rearrested by the HRC and declared a dangerous offender against diversity. Convicted of the grievous offense of insulting a mom, I protested that her status as a mother was immaterial to the case. "I'll have no profanity uttered in my kangaroo court," shouted the indignant frump. My lawyer said he couldn't help me owing to my present condition of being fiscally challenged, and when I called him a shyster he turned state's evidence against me for acts of anti-semitism, anti-Zionism and anti-semanticism. I knew I was doomed and began to pray, but was stopped by the Mounties who advised me that any further acts of a political, sectarian or indecent nature on crown property would be answered with a summary tasering. In prison I had to fight off the amorous advances of a toothless eighty-year old inmate for which I was promptly brought up before the warden for homophobia, ageism, lookism and gingiphobia (an irrational fear and aversion toward gums). After a course in sensitivity I was certified as a reformed sociopath and all-round trouble maker and released. I volunteered for the armed forces with ambitions of becoming a troop, but was refused on wellness grounds of non-plurality and a glandular disorder which was termed persistent aggressive testosterone syndrome or patsy. It appears they believed I might actually fight someone. In war. Despairing of a cure, I headed for Lions Gate with the intention of self-destruction but experienced a suicide gone wrong when I landed in the pool of a passing luxury liner. I knew my ship had at last come in when my lawyer the shyster showed up waving a suit of tort against the liner, the bridge, the port authority and every known inhabitant of the planet for criminal negligence, (i.e., saving my wretched life), discrimination (I'm a redhead) and phoboaquaphobia (I can't swim!) My pain at being still alive was excruciating but I smiled through my tears, confident in the knowledge that I'd soon be crying all the way to the bank. With those tears still in my eyes I suddenly awoke. It had all been a dream. Sigh.

Forum Roundup

At a site praising a local journalist of the former Seattle Post Intelligencer, presently on online life support:

"Connelly's capacious memory for political events and statements..." alas evidently failed him in this instance, since allusions to the "Climategate" affair of just last month were as scarce as polar bears in Rio throughout his attack on Palin. Why shouldn't Palin reconsider, or "flip flop," on AGW, when the entire scientific establishment is now looking askance at the CRU scandal? And as for the column having "a little bit of everything, humor" etc, I found it especially humorous that it did not have any comments or forum or even an email feedback option. If a reversion to the old media model of journalist as God is Connely's way of "nailing" anything, it is more probably seattlepi.com's coffin.

At a Washington Independent story faulting the FBI's supposedly discriminatory stance toward Muslims:

"...the case stoked apprehensions that the government sees Arab-Americans and Muslims as a people apart." Cf. the BIble, Gen 12:16: " ...thou shalt call his name Ishmael... And he will be a wild man; his hand will be against every man, and every man's hand against him..." The inescapable fact remains that the Western democracies, with their presumption of legal sovereignty over sectarian interests, were never designed with the sons of Ishmael in mind. As for "developing with consistency" the "crucial relationship" with Muslims, is not this institutional deference the very stance that fostered the Fort Hood disaster?

At a Macleans article on the recent VSO- VANOC controversy:

"The visible part of the job is something a ten-year-old could do..." Right! And when the kid is finished "doing" Mahler's 9th she can take over for Colby Cash at the word processor. Certainly anyone can beat time to pop songs, but just try letting an orchestra attempt to perform any standard work of "classical" proportions without the firm hand of a trained conductor on deck and watch what happens: bloody chaos. Mr. Cash should confine his aesthetic apercus to the football and hockey venues he hails from where a little chaos always offers a welcome bit of divertimenti.
[This little comment generated a number of REPIES from the usual canuck brigade and from Cosh himself, more entertaining, let me add, than the original column. Interestingly, there is one sport with an affinity to the art of orchestral conducting, an affinity once evoked by none other than the late Herbert van Karajan. It is the sport of horse-jumping, a sport as dangerous and demanding for both man and mount as it is exciting and graceful to the spectator. Steeplechase and conducting, each in its own way, bring out the crucial difference between merely riding something that's been tamed into acquiescence, and actually guiding a thoroughbred with a will of its own over the most formidable terrain, be it terrestrial or artistic. Neither is an undertaking for ten year-olds.]

At a NYT predictably effusive review of Clint Eastwood's Invictus:
Dirty Harry Mole
"The defining theme of his career" has actually been Eastwood's ongoing charade as some kind of "conservative," making violent movies that draw in the mass red state audiences but invariably larding each cliched effort with all the standard liberal platitudes. Show me a politically correct theme this guy hasn't pushed down our throats in film after moralizing film. How else does a "tough guy" get Hollywood's effete elite eating out of his hand every two to three years? Artist he never will be, but when has that ever held up an Academy Award nomination? He's the left's ultimate cultural mole.