www.ranter.co.uk

MEDDLING MISSIONARIES

Bernard — Wed, 29 Mar 2006 21:51:14 +0000

Should we be so joyful that Christian missionary Norman Kember was rescued from his captors last week? Since flying home, he seems to have been less than grateful to his rescuers for his freedom, choosing to believe instead that his deliverance was more an act of God.
He doesn't say which God, the Christian God, the Islamic God, the Jewish God, the... well we could go on but which God exactly does get the credit? Though I'm sure Mr Kember wants to believe that it's his Christian God.

This dotty old man even seems slightly resentful that he was recued at all, reminding us that the Iraq invasion shouldn't have happened. Yes, but it did. What shouldn't have happened was a group of naïve missionaries expecting the British, American and Canadian governments to bail them out if they ventured into hostile areas where they made themselves targets for the loony insurgents roaming that tortured land.

I wonder just what Mr Kember - a lifelong pacifist - really thought he was doing there. Missionary work of some sort yes, no doubt. And no doubt that made him feel quite serene and spiritually pleased with himself, even though he must have known what danger he was in. But did he not realise or care what a liability he might be to the military forces trying to maintain peace in Iraq? Or was it his plan to embarrass them maybe by getting under their feet.

Did he, I wonder, ever see any of the videos of what these insurgents do to their victims if they decide to murder them for propaganda video. They are readily available on the internet. Perhaps someone should force Mr Kember to view one of these horrific incidents. It might make him think a bit more clearly next time. It might make him consider just what the soldiers who freed him, risked to get him out. It has a sobering effect watching a man with a kitchen knife saw a live man's head off! Funny how no amount of prayer saved those others from such a barbaric death, Daniel Perl, Kenneth Bigley and others. What was God's great plan there I wonder. Why did deliverance elude them? Did others not pray enough? No, it was a case of the military not being as lucky at tracking them down as they were with Kember. Divine intervention is a nice idea when it turns out okay. You can't help wondering why during the last world war, 6 million plus jews, men, women and children, all of whom must have been praying like mad for their deliverance, weren't delivered from their ordeal.

Frankly, Norman Kember and his family and colleagues should get down on their knees and give thanks to the vigilance and bravery of the army, the SAS and others who cooperated to free them. That is the miracle. The miracle of communication, intelligence and guts Mr Kember.

Original post blogged on b2evolution.

Arranged Marriage? FORCED WEDDING

Bernard — Thu, 16 Mar 2006 16:33:29 +0000

Can there be anything so gross as being forced to marry someone you hardly know, and all for what? Family honour.

Family honour my arse, selfish personal pride brought on by repressive indoctrination and brain washing at an early age more like. The deal being: on the one side you marry someone your parents thought was right for you - and convenient for them - and that should you refuse, you bring dishonour on your family and they then disown you and worse. Can you imagine your family turning on you because you didn't want to marry some pig you didn't love and couldn't stand - male or female? It would never happen in our culture. It cannot happen in our culture... by law! We marry for love or lust or whatever but the choice is up to us individually. There is more honour in that than being forced and threatened by your parents and other family members merely so they don't lose face. It beats me how a parent or brother could be so animal and derranged or selfish. No loving parent would treat their child like that.

However, this primitive medieval tradition - which is all that it is in the west - is being enforced by migrant parents on their westernised offspring. They want all the benefits of the west, though many refuse to integrate or even learn our language. Many of them want to be a micro culture of the world they came here to escape. Meanwhile they want the education and the opportunities. They want the health care and the welfare benefits. They want the good life and the opportunity to succeed and they want the laws to protect them, when it suits them. However, they don't want our culture and remain steadfastly welded to their archaic customs, which wouldn't be so bad if they didn't hurt anyone; but forced marriage does hurt people and so too does honour killing, part of the deal for non compliance.

It seems incredible how tolerant the west is of this appalling practice and many other confrontational issues. We seem to be standing for so many of their cultural demands which have a direct bearing on our own freedoms and culture. Why are we allowing this to happen. Have we become a soft touch, particularly in the UK?

We are forced to endure militant immigrants who either don't like this or don't like that; They have become isolated, resistant to our culture whilst maintaining theirs. They want to run their communities like satellites of the countries they left.

Now they want plays stopped because they don't like what they say - suppression; they don't like some religious cartoon so they riot and preach death and destruction and holy war - suppression and intimidation. By the way what happened to the British police during this incident, why did they do nothing? Well what about our freedoms of speech, our freedom to criticise? They want to force their children to marry even though it is illegal in our society - repression, intimidation and violence. And what else will they object to once they get the bit between their teeth. What objections will they raise concerning our freedoms and ways previously taken for granted. They forget they came to the free west to be free. Yet they want to impose their traditional repressions here and undermine our ways. And what is happening in the government about this, what protection is being afforded to our society and our way of life. Virtually none. All the happy clappy socialist live-and-let-live philosophy is slowly selling us down the river. When will we be more like the Dutch and the French and the others who stand up and say, enough is enough. Love our ways or go back to where you came from. In fact if they don't like the status quo, they should be repatriated by force, if necessary.

Frankly if such people love their primitive traditions so much, and ours not at all, why did they come here in the first place. The whole thing is a recipe for future disaster unless it is addressed very soon.

Original post blogged on b2evolution.

YOU ONLY LIVE TWICE - IF YOU PLAY YOUR CARDS RIGHT

Bernard — Mon, 13 Mar 2006 15:38:30 +0000

It was a grey morning. The light filtered through a dusty window but wasn't even strong enough to cast shadow on the floor of suite 158 on the sixteenth floor of the private New York hospital. Connery was groggy but still managed to stretch out a hand. He longed to feel the cold texture and ever familiar contours that had nestled inside his jacket, next to his arm pit, through countless encounters and tense circumstances. Yes his wallet was still there. Carefully he fumbled and then gripped the smooth leather and pulled it towards him. The leather was cold against his cheek. It smelled of him. Old Spice, Tabac, Coal Tar soap and the sweat of 75 year old film star. There were some notes in it that were now out of date.

Connery was recovering from an operation. He'd recently undergone surgery to remove the wallet from his inside pocket. The operation was a success but the surgeon was worried. "Obviously..." he began, gazing at the press agent over the rims of his Foster Grant cheapo reading glasses, "... there will be some side effects. A man doesn't carry a wallet unopened in his pocket for all those years, then expect a straight run to normality once it's been removed." The doctor drew a deep breath and let it hiss out between clenched buttocks. "Noooo no." he intoned, "It'll require weeks of recouperation, some councelling probably. His bank manager might be the best one to do that."
"Maybe he should return home for some R&R." said the agent.

"That would be a good idea." agreed the surgeon, "Familiar things will be good for him. They'll evoke memories of childhood and help him to rebuild himself."

Two days later, Connery was stepping off the plane. The familiar surroundings made his chest swell with pride. Scottish to his roots, being back in his homeland had an immediate cathartic effect. Yes, it was good to get back to the familiarity of the grand old Scottish province of Bahamas. How he glowed at the sight of the familiar Scottish vegetation. The palm trees, the bannana groves, the worked out sugar cane plantations. There had been a moment of tension but once he saw the tax free banking houses in the main street, it passed quickly.

He arrived at his house, a traditional Scottish lodge of pale pink stucco nestling in a housing development of exclusive traditional Scottish houses called Lyford Cay. It was a pretty house a bagpipes throw from the traditional Scottish coral beach where traditionally warm clear Scottish water lapped the traditionally Scottish pink coral beach.

Mrs Connery was there to greet him. "Now Sean, you need to rest. But we should have something to eat before you do anything else. I've got the barby going. What about some traditional Scottish fare, haggis washed down with a dram before you pop into the studio to record that message for the SNP."

"Fuck that Micheline." retorted Sean "Chuck a couple of Lobshters on the barby and crack open the Crishtal. I'm in the mood for dancshing."

Original post blogged on b2evolution.

Crufts: Woof! Woof! - Bark!

Bernard — Mon, 13 Mar 2006 14:05:34 +0000

Just when I had great plans to rant on in misogynistic fashion about some sharp-eyed bitch stealing the silver but not before she'd barfed on her man's shoes, pissed on the rug right in front of him, allowed herself to get shagged by both her neighbours, as well as sinking her teeth into the milkman's buttocks before she left home to get herself shagged again up some dark alley and then perform in front of thousands, nay, millions of people, a bloody Australian Sheep DOG wins Crufts and screws up my plans. Ah well. Maybe he was a son-of-a-bitch... almost certainly, and cocked his leg in a few awkward places, shagged a couple of bitches - by arrangement of course - and took a dump in front of one of the judges. We can but hope.

Crufts, you might say, is the annual festival of the dog. They probably market it in Korea as the Masterchef equivalent. A Smörgåsbord of the tastiest varieties to grace any pot. A lip smacking treat for dog lovers... wishing to try something different in their diet. Actually, maybe they should hold Crufts in Korea one year, to help them appreciate that dog is man's best friend and not just a main course dish. In Korea bumper stickers on their cars read "A dog is not just for Christmas... try one at Easter too." Of course we in the west get very emotional about the way others treat animals, but then we aren't starving as so many of them are. That's why bush meat - monkeys etc. - are also eaten, though to my way of thinking, it's almost a form of cannibalism.

Rather than educate them about how wonderful and varied these animals are, perhaps we should help them by teaching them intensive animal husbandry techniques. Of course, that would lead to other abuses - for sure - as we have seen happens here, even with all the protective legislations there are. Man is generally cruel and insensitive to the pain of others unless kept in check by those who have the ability to imagine how unpleasant pain is. Clearly in some societies, they have little regard for the others in pain and to some it is even a form of recreation to see others suffer. Presumeably on the basis that if it isn't happening to them, it's something to enjoy. You only have to look at how some people treat their own children to know they have little regard for the well being of others. But if you grow up in a cruel world, you become cruel yourself, to survive. If your father is a bully, chances are you'll become one too. If you see others butchering terrified dogs without a moment's hesitation, you believe that is the norm.

Personally, I'd like to see the bear baters and monkey keepers who drug them and torture them to make them perform in the streets for coppers, taken, put into cages not much bigger than they are, drug them and prod them with sharp sticks, electrocute them and see how long it takes before they are begging for mercy. Then I'd like to see them stay imprisoned and humiliated for another few months. It would drive them insane too. Don't get me wrong, I don't support the Animal rights cretins who are just barking insane and nothing more than a bunch of violence loving hypocrites anymore than I would support people who hurt animals and their own, just because they can. We just have to keep on educating them.

Who knows, one day, maybe life will be more like Star Trek. We'll be better educated about the suffering of others. There will be no racisim or religion to screw up our heads. Pain will be easily conquered by more sophistcated drugs and there will be a food synthesiser in every home. Of course, chickens, cows, pigs - and dogs, will no longer be in demand and may well become extinct. And of course, the synthesisers will be made in... Korea.

Original post blogged on b2evolution.

DRINKS AND DINNER AND LEG-OVER

Bernard — Wed, 08 Mar 2006 01:37:38 +0000

A man must be sure that a woman has agreed to have sex to avoid being accused of rape - a new campaign launched by the Home Office is to warn.
Mmm. Sounds okay in theory but could it really work. "Hey sauce box, before you get smashed out of your brains, pee your pants and throw up in my lav, how d'you feel about sex later... on second thoughts, forget it I've gone off the whole idea."

But what happens if the woman says she consents, then denies it the day after. Just how do you prove it one way or the other. Aren't the odds rather stacked against the man. Is it going to be another of those court rulings where the woman is going to be given the benefit of the doubt over the man just because he is a man and is traditionally in control of a situation like consentual sex. It isn't always the case. How do you prove that one person is being honest in such matters and that emotions and ego aren't playing a major part in the whole event. Just how daft is this going to get. Perhaps the man should therefore get something in writing first.

"I (Name Goes Here) and the undersigned, being of sound mind (before I downed a quart of Jack Daniels and a prawn Bhuna)and in full control of my faculties, for the moment, do hereby declare that on consideration of the facts, namely that (Name Goes Here) is a bit of a stud and looks like he's set up a community of squirrels in the underpant department and is therefore entitled to slip me : 1-2-3-4-5-6-Unlimited (circle where applicable)lengths during the course of the evening, even if I am rat arsed, pissed and smacked-out-of-my-head unconscious, on the dance floor or behind the bin area of any club where we've been downing as much liquor as we can before closing time. I also agree/disagree (circle where applicable) that he can/can not (circle where applicable) pass me round his mates, provided that: a)they wear condoms, b)do not kiss me, especially if they've just vomited, c)do not urinate over me just for the crack and d)promise to clean me up and prop me in a corner before they stagger off in search of another club or girl or boy or both. Signed :

Clubs will need to have little signing booths, photocopy machines and secretarial services. Maybe it would help to have a notary public standing by too. As a sideline, guys who aren't pulling could get other benefits such as a will service, which in the circumstances might not be a bad move. Perhaps Royal Mail should set up their services in a club to allow people to do their tax discs and buy stamps. It would pass the time. But in order to ensure there are no wrongful accusations over the sex issue, it would make sense for a man to take his solicitor with him whenever he goes for a night out. Just to be on the safe side. Yes, going clubbing might turn into something quite radical with the new laws they're proposing. I wonder what's on the telly!

Original post blogged on b2evolution.

I LOVE YOU ALL... BUT MOST OF ALL... ME!

Bernard — Mon, 06 Mar 2006 16:29:34 +0000

"It's fantastic. I don't know what to say. It's all just so incredible I... I... I just don't know what to say (Give me a minute) - sniff - I really didn't expect this award (Well I did, at least I thought I might get it, I was bloody good)and there are so many people I want to thank (Yeah right! But mainly me as I was sooo good, I mean, just how good was the director) Oh it's all been so unexpected (but geeze it's going to bump up the money. Yeah baby Yeah!) - sniff - and when you think where I was this time last year (...with barely a BAFTA to my name, and look at me now) I just can't believe my luck, (luck pah, I slept with half the Academy to ensure I dated this little gold guy, who by the way would look very good in a thong) I just hope my mom and dad are watching (yeah after the hell you put me through with that brace you bastards and don't think you're getting a penny from me.) and my maths teacher at school - giggle - who always said I'd make it - sniff (yeah in fact that's just the line he used to get me beteween the sheets, flattering my innocent ego, the bastard, well who's laughing now Billy Jo Bob) Thank you also to my voice coach was such a big help with his advice and encouragement (and he was right, regular sperm really does help the vocal chords) But most of all I want to thank my husband Hank for being so supportive - sniff - and patient - sniff - and always being there for me when I had doubts (who I'm going to divorce as soon as I can, for being off with that little teen slut he's been jumpin' while I was on location in the goddamn Mojave dessert eating dust for dinner, at least I will once I get Clooney handcuffed to the bed post) Thank you, thank you again, I love you all. (What a crock! In fact I couldn't give a damn what happens to any of them, just gimme the money, then it's off to the parties, yeehaaah!)

Original post blogged on b2evolution.

D'YOU WANNA BE IN MY GANG - NO THANKS

Bernard — Mon, 06 Mar 2006 16:04:11 +0000

Ho Chi Minh look-a-like, Gary "The Tongue" Glitter now presents the figure of a raddled, dirty old man - he may even be diseased - when you see the current crop of photos of this one time pop idol. You have to wonder just what he got up to for all those years when the teenies saw him as a Music God and hung around his dressing room door. Young girls must have been throwing themselves at his feet; he must have been like a kid in a candy store. But even then, close up, you could see cracks through the make up and fright wig, that he wasn't what he appeared to be. Of course having ceased being that ludicrous, platform heeled, scaffolding shouldered glitter queen in bufont hair and outrageous kit, it's easier to see the real Paul Gadd, though he still likes to adorn himself with idiotic embellishments.
But we all loved him then. He was a survivor. He'd been through bankruptcy and come out the other side to rebuild his career and we cheered him on. He had it all going for him.

Meanwhile his sinister obsession lay hidden. What a chump to throw away his life and all he had for a sordid obsession he clearly couldn't and can't control. As if things weren't bad enough for him in the UK, he then goes and throws it all away again, first in Cuba, then Thailand and now Vietnam where sporting a ridiculous grey goatee beard and neck tuft with his eyebrows painted in, he stands ranting at the court that he's been fitted up by the British press. Well they may well have fitted him up but the person who fitted up Gary Glitter most, was Gary Glitter himself!

He could have lived in relative obscurity in any of those countries he fled to but for his lusting after pre-pubescent girls and there was more than enough eye witness evidence to confirm this. Now he just looks like a sad and somewhat demented old letch, a dangerous man you wouldn't want baby sitting your granny never mind your children. What makes it all the more apalling is his apparent disregard for his own dignity. Spitting fire and protest over his supposed innocence (having already back-handed his victims to drop charges of rape)leaves him looking more guilty by the hour. And when after deportation he returns to the UK in a couple of years time, he will no doubt have more music to face and it won't be as leader of the gang, but as a pariah in the community that once adored him. Sad!

Original post blogged on b2evolution.

PIZZA PIAZZA - IT'S GOD TO GO

Bernard — Mon, 27 Feb 2006 18:27:12 +0000

Glorified former pizza boy turned millionaire Tom Monaghan, founder of Domino's Pizza, not content with clogging the arteries of millions of his customers, now plans to set up a town, situated on former vegetable farms 90 miles nortwest of Miami in Florida based on strict Catholic principles. Such is the way of megalomaniacal self-made men who, having made their deep crust (sorry), suddenly want to dictate their personal philosophy to the already converted in home made principalities walled in and away from the real world for fear of contamination. It is the best way to control things I suppose but a bit predictable.

It promises to be a fun place with no abortions, no pornography, no contraceptives. So much for the land of the free! Sounds like a town without pity. Sounds like one man's beliefs imposed on willing victims. And in keeping with old style religion, you can bet your life, they will be spreading the hypocrisy thicker than tomato paste on a deep pan, cheese crust, four seasons. No x-rated channels on their cable TV network either. Wall to wall bible prayer and smiling, laymen of benign appearance spreading the word of god and a lot of schmaltz. Plus there'll be plenty of Pizza (hallelujah) and 100 foot high oratory. Praise the Pizza!

The town is to be called "Ave Maria". Wouldn't "Fuck Me" have been more appropriate. It's the name outsiders will use more than any other and easy to remember. The town it is said, will hold up to 30,000 people, most of whom will probably religious zealots and big pizza fans. Well good to know they will all be coralled in one spot. You can expect blessings such as, "In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, do you want fries with that, go large for 50 cents more. We deliver. Amen"

I wonder, will it have a weekly burning at the stake, a ducking stool and a team of inquisitors to weed out the undesireables. How will Horatio Caine get on with the local elders when he investigates the mutilation of a disbeliever in CSI Miami. Yes I know it's fictional but suspend your serious side for a moment. Perhaps there will be an honor system. All residents must wear the Elmer Fud baseball hat when out. Their shirts will carry honors on their breast pockets. One Virgin Mary for good, two if your very good, three if you're extrememly worthy and pray a lot, four if you're good and convert a sinner and five if you blow the gaff on a non believer who gets burned at the stake. As you move up the hierarchy, this changes to first one crusifix (i.e. equal to five Virgin Marys etc.)and so on.

So just how will people spend their days? Sex is out, movies will be tame, food will be pizza. Well there's always prayer in the all new oratory (No doubt Cherie Blair will be at the opening in her lace mantilla. For her they'll have a wafer the shape and size of a Hot Pocket which she'll consume sideways). There'll be a full days order of service, with prayer that God, (that's a catholic God mind you, not a Jewish one or Muslim one) god will smite down all enemies, the wrong doers and those who fornicate (which of course you must do if you're going to procreate, only as long as you don't enjoy and use it as recreation, it's fine) Then there's all that fun to be had hissing through gritted teeth at unmarried mothers and children who innocently let others see their pee pees, accidentally at school. Damning them for all time works a treat and is a great boost to original sin. Touching of course will be strictly forbidden unless accompanied by at least three priests, a matron aunt in black weeds, a bottle of holy water and a picture of Mel Gibson. Of course molestation by the clergy will be allowed to continue as usual. And hell... oops sorry, heck, you can always pop out for a pizza and nice cold glass of buttermilk (beer will be banned no doubt.'tis the devils brew!) Well it all sounds peachey to me. Frankly though, I'd rather spend a wet weekend in Blackpool and broke, than an hour in the Florida sunshine with this lot. A word of advice to the planners. Build a two lane highway entering the town... and a four lane highway exiting the town, so that those who want to, can leave in a hurry.

Original post blogged on b2evolution.