Flying Moron Class

Note to Robert Fisk: shut up. Really. Just shut up. We really do not care, at all, that the world's luxury hôtels are now asking you to use your towels more than once. It may be a struggle for you, but it is one that most of us will not suffer. It's like the Beatles' Taxman and Amy Winehouse's drink problem. We will never be privileged enough to feel such pain, so just shut up and stop being a dick.

Speaking of dicks, here's Jim Hopkins:

There's supposed to be an absolute rule in science: if the facts don't fit the theory, the theory must be wrong. But these beneficiaries of massive research grants have adopted a more creative approach. In their world, the First Law of Prestige and Avarice applies; when the facts don't fit the theory, change the facts.

You will see, if you can be bothered to read his overwrought prose, that Jim Hopkins has discovered that climate change is a massive fraud. He has heard of an email from one scientist to another which suggests to him that evidence was faked, and that is enough to declare the argument over. Which will be a pity, for Mr Hopkins has contributed so much to the spurious debate which he and other grumpy old men have perpetrated on us. This, after all, is a man who blames it all on women, some of whom are famous.

Of course, the great advantage of having a regular column in a paper which cares little for its reputation is that you can write whatever you like. You don't have to back any of your cretinous opinions with facts, you don't even have to make coherent arguments; you just spew out those badly-written paragraphs of unfunny humour.

And there was a cartoon sequence by Al Nisbet in the Sunday Star Times, one in which Copenhagen Conference delegates blow hot air into a cloud marked "global warming theory," which then rains taxes. That's all, folks: that is the standard of argument in the papers about the most important issue facing us. It is no wonder we are fucked. It is no wonder that John Key and the Maori Party can get away with their dirty work at the crossroads; it is no wonder that we will be paying for the polluters; because nobody is watching and debate has been commandeered by the likes of Hopkins and Nisbet, people who lack even technical proficiency in their chosen fields, let alone the intellect to make an argument. So, it's all about hot air and women. Ho ho fucken ho.

In other news, April Francis, a 26-year-old Chicago "identity consultant," thinks Margaret Atwood is "mind-blowingingly boring."

Moon Unit Zappa: next exit.

Vote with your fists

I, for one, could not be arsed to view the March for Democracy. In case you were wondering democracy is the right to beat your kids with a hose or any other implement of your choosing. Yes, I know: the Greeks, the Encyclopédistes and the Founding Fathers somehow missed that nuance. However, thinkers such as Yulia are more aware of the implications of this issue:

As a young girl I grew with the concrete dust of poverty and the ruin of Volgograd as my playground. Now that I am a NZ citizen who is representing NZ with my artistry, I want to lend my love and support to my fellow kiwis as we encourage the NZ government to value the vote of its people.

By Marching for Democracy, I believe we honor the families who sacrificed their loved ones for our freedoms. Let us not take these freedoms for granted. Let us not forget the horrific price of totalitarianism. By marching for democracy we demonstrate that despite being from many cultures and backgrounds, we are one people under democracy.

Incidentally, Julia's father maintained order in his household with an axe.

Oh well, at least it was a family event. Loving parents could bring along their little victims and get them to carry placards. And then they could all go home for a good thrashing. Because that is what freedom is all about. And it only cost the organiser $100 a head.

New moon in old bottles

From left to right: Willow, Angel, Buffy, Spike, Cordelia, Xander

The return will be televised

In a supper club in New York City a few nights ago, a spare figure, rising on great spindly legs like a wading bird, loped on stage barely three-quarters of an hour after his allotted slot.

"Those of you who thought I wouldn't make it, you lose," he grinned. "Those of you who thought I wouldn't be here on time, you break even!"

Newsnight meets Gil Scott-Heron

Towards a dough architecture

From Readers' Forum, New Zealand Herald, 16 November:

In paintings of early Auckland, a windmill is shown on one of the hills. This must have cheered the hearts of new settlers coming into port here. After long weeks at sea, they would be hungry for fresh food, especially bread.

In remembrance of our heritage, what about a huge stylish, gloriously welcoming opera house in the shape of a windmill for Queens Wharf? Engineers cold programme its sails for certain hours, so children and adults could go down and view them.

Apart from the sails area, where possible it should be made of reinforced glass, so that by day or lit up by night, it would be magical and friendly sight for tourist ships and aeroplanes.

On the inside, acoustic engineers could provide superb sound for singers and orchestra in a world-class opera house. All this in a wonderful harbour setting.
E.Rosser, Remuera

It is surprising that nobody had thought of this idea until now: a glass illuminated opera house in the shape of a windmill, with programmed wings. It would be world-class. After all, we must have an opera house, because Sydney has one. We can't have a Gehry, because Bilbao has one already; so how about a world class piece of tat so vulgar that even Jeff Koons would flinch? Yes, that should do it.

Leaving aside the obvious differences between opera houses and windmills, as well as the horizontality of the one building type and the verticality of the other, why would anyone have a thought as hideous as this one?

Further reading: The True History of Partington's Windmill

Kill the poor

There are categories of people who are more inclined to sue if they are the subject of adverse publications, so particular care should be taken in reporting allegations of misconduct against lawyers, doctors, judges, other professionals, politicians, critics and wealthy businessmen/women.

In which Cactus Kate reveals why APN newspapers are so dull: they are only allowed to write about people who can't afford to sue them.

All I wanted was a word or photograph

Defense Secretary Robert Gates has used powers granted to him by a controversial new law to block the court-ordered release of numerous photos of detainee abuse, government lawyers revealed in a court filing Friday evening. Gates' new authority comes from a law, signed by President Barack Obama last month, that gives the Secretary of Defense the power to rule that photos of detainees are exempt from release under the Freedom of Information Act. Gates' action on Friday was the first use of the new FOIA exemption since it passed Congress last month. The photos in question are the subject of a years-long legal fight by the American Civil Liberties Union, which first filed a FOIA request for records pertaining to detainee treatment, rendition, and death in May of 2005. The case is currently being reviewed by the Supreme Court.

Should you be thinking the Obama administration is cuddly, then you really should be reading MoJo.

And another thing - music promos used to be this good:

The wit and wisdom of Chris Laidlaw

As Winston Churchill said, "a split infinitive is something up with which I will not put."

Laidlaw said this, in the dying moments of today's soporific programme (did you stay awake during the interview with the veteran sports photographer? Bet you didn't). So Chris, you're meant to be clever: show us the split infinitive. Go on.

So all of you be damned,
we can't have Heaven crammed;
so Winston Churchill said,
I could have smacked his head.

A hand up, not a hand out

"Extremadura should be pleased with itself," sniped Pilar Rahola, a columnist in the Barcelona-based La Vanguardia newspaper. "It may have the most unemployed young people in Spain, but they will be the best at masturbation."

The Devil, so they say, gives work to idle hands. Not surprisingly, this story was the fifth most popular on the Grauniad website, because it is about teenage sex. But, once the sniggering is over, this seems like a very good idea; at least, a better idea than kids getting their sex education from R'n'B promos.

We don't need no Fascist scout thang

I never intended writing a book and never considered myself a writer - just a pastor and teacher of the Word of God. During 2008 as I was finishing writing Holocaust Exposed I remembered the visions of 1997 and realized that this book did in fact have sixteen chapters as the vision revealed. But more amazing was the event that then followed. In November 2008 when I had finished writing the manuscript, and having gone through it again and again to correct mistakes and make slight adjustments, I then said to the Lord:

"Lord, I have done as much as I can to this manuscript and I can do no more. I will have to put this into the hands of a professional editor to polish it up".

Then out of interest I decided to find out how many words were in the book by going to the tools menu on Microsoft Word and clicking on "Word Count". When I did this my mouth dropped open as I read the word count as 77,777 words.

I do not believe in the magic of numbers or sequences but I do know that the number seven in the Bible is very significant as pertaining to God and to completion. When I saw the 77777 I knew it was God's signature on the book and then again I remembered the vision of 1997 when after sixteen chapters the Lord said "Confirmed me".

One cannot help but think that, had God put the Old Testament into the hands of a professional editor, we all might have been saved a lot of bother. But that is besides the point. The point is that Pastor Nigel Woodley of Flaxmere is totally hatstand.

What did the Jews do to deserve people like Pastor Woodley, awful little men who live in awful little places like Flaxmere and spend their awful little lives obsessing about the Chosen People? It is not as if the likes of Pastor Woodley care about the Jews. Quite the opposite: the want them to become Christians, and they want them in Israel, because then the world will end. Why, you might ask, do the likes of Pastor Woodley want the world to end? Because they are weird, that's why. Anybody who puts his faith in the accuracy of Microsoft Word could only be described as weird.

In other news, anti-Semitic scouts shame Romford.