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Good Lord...It's Geetan

Love Will FInd A Way

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Wal-Martyr


A little essay on torture for you here.

Just click the picture below





















Spot the Difference

religious fundamentalism


There is no fun in fundamentalism, though I can see where the word mental fits in....

Big Bottom and Big Brother


Hmm

I’ve just seen an interesting news article on the television about how various governments are using the internet to identify dissenters, by what they have put in blogs.

The internet is a great source of information. Repressive regimes don’t like it for exactly that reason. Others tolerate it because they have to operate within the realms, relatively speaking, of freedom of information. In places like China and Iran, people can be locked up merely for sharing what we would consider the most innocuous snippets of information if the government doesn’t like it.

This information can be as trivial as talking about the fact that people in your country are locked up, for talking about the people the government locked up for talking about them. It’s crazy, but I ask myself could that happen here in England? After all, you know by now that I think Tony Blair lied to involve us in a war, just so he could have an interesting chapter in his biography. In many countries I could be imprisoned for such a remark, and shot for not much more.

It seems to me, that when bad things like this happen, they only seem to happen in countries where the people thought, ‘that could never happen here.’ Those countries are the ones which enjoy a degree of freedom, the right to express themselves. Let me tell you this though. Having freedom is a prerequisite to losing it and this is because of the complacency it breeds. Freedom isn’t a permanent state, merely part of the ebb and flow of the tide in human affairs; it is what happens while dictatorships gather their strength and wait in the wings; democracy is the sleeping draught given to us by those who would take it away. The more we sip it, and drink our fill, the more we mistake the dream of democracy for reality until one day, like the Chilean Mothers of the missing, we dance with the dead.

So, as much as I enjoy, and take advantage of the freedom I have to express my opinions I do occasionally wonder where it will all lead. The governments of the West, generally allow this freedom of speech, but it reminds me of those times in relationships where one person or the other says, ’go on. You can tell me what you think. In this relationship you’re free to speak you’re mind. That’s what people in love do.’ Then one day when you finally admit that, ‘actually, your bum does look big in that… in fact, it’s absolutely huge… not quite like a horse, but close… perhaps more like a Shetland pony…’

Then one day, it comes back to haunt you.

Maybe on the day you’ve been flicking through the readers page in a magazine and remark, ‘good lord. You’ll never believe this, but apparently some women fake their orgasms.’

And she says, ‘well, now you mention it…’

Or even worse, after thirty years of marriage she says, ‘no. Both of them were genuine.’

It’s like that in some relationships isn’t it; the respective partners unconsciously gathering evidence for the divorce, and if our relationship with the government and law of the land ever breaks down, well… we'll remember, a lot of us thought it had a rather large arse.


Patricia Spewitt


Patricia Hewitt, the Health Secretary wants to increase tax on alcohol. In particular she wants to target Alcopops. These drinks are said to be favoured by teens and young adults. The move is to curb binge drinking among teens and young adults. At least that is what she said. You and I, and even the drunken teenagers know she is either lying, or drunk.

Governments seem to only raise taxes, so they will have enough money to bribe certain sections of the electorate to vote for them; otherwise known as tax cuts. I know that might sound cynical. I don’t want to give you the impression that that is the only reason for taxes; after all, someone has to pay for the generous pay rises they give to themselves. Personally, I think they are worth every penny… up to about 93 pence then after that I start to feel like I’ve been overcharged for the service they provide.

I must admit it doesn’t seem fair that they can vote for how much money they get. It’s like putting an alcoholic in charge of an off licence. And as for this idea of Patricia Hewitt; well, just how stupid does she think we are? Even if they put an extra pound onto the price of alcohol, it won’t stop kids drinking if they are so inclined; they’ll just skip the extra sherbet Dib Dab and spend that on booze instead. Can you imagine the conversations around the country?

There’s a knock on the door and young Billy, opens it.

Outside are his mates.

‘Hello Billy. The chaps and I are going down to the park where we are intent on drinking Alcopops, vomiting on the path and then pissing in a couple of phone booths. Would you care to accompany us?’

Billy considers the proposal, but declines, firmly, saying, ‘no, actually. I’ve been reading the Financial Times and apparently the Health Secretary has called for a prohibitively high tax to be added onto the trade price of alcoholic beverages, and Gordon Brown, the Chancellor is going to announce it in his next budget so I thought I would keep my money and invest it in a copy of the Encyclopedia
Britannica. It’s a cracking read.’

The other kids are astounded.

Why hadn’t they thought of that?

They are so impressed with the astute reasoning displayed by Billy they decide to put all their pocket money together and send it to the starving children in Africa… well, the one’s that Madonna hasn’t adopted yet.

They thank Billy, and tell him they will write to the wonderful Health Secretary and ask if she can increase the taxes on comics too, because that will stop innocent children getting paper cuts.

Billy waves goodbye to his chums and closes the door.

He feels good, having been of service to his community and setting a good example to his peer group.

Or perhaps that feeling came from the glue he was sniffing just before those louts interrupted him.


Waiter...there's an insurgent in my soup


According to the latest reports out of the White House, George Bush is said to be unhappy with the War in Iraq. Lets hope he doesn’t send it back and order a fresh one…

Donkeyok


I much prefer donkeys, or donk’s as they are more affectionately known, to horses. Horses are beautiful, but I always get the feeling that they know it, and they know you know it, and if you know what is good for you, you better give them a sugar lump. They have a touch of the catwalk about them, the way they walk; the way they toss their hair; those ridiculous shoes they wear.

Think about it, there must be a good reason why it’s the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Excuse me, I meant Four Horsepersons of the Apocalypse; in this day and age, even women are entitled to be the harbingers of famine and pestilence; as Lady Thatcher proved during the Miners Strike.

Nobody could possibly be worried about the Four Donkeymen of the Apocalypse could they? I mean. What would the repercussions of that be? Surely it couldn’t be that bad; a shortage of very crunchy carrots; or slow rides along the sands of time feeling vaguely ridiculous.

On the other hand


It is my pleasure, in fact, my duty to bring you the truth behind the stories you see on the networks.

Now, I guess you all know by now that I think that Bush is a bit of a fuckwit. I have to admit, though, that sometimes he is criticized unfairly and to redress the balance, I feel on this occasion I should defend him.

You may recall the feeling of hubris when, after the invasion of Iraq reached a certain point, Bush famously announced, 'Mission Accomplished.' He had just landed on the deck of an aircraft carrier. I didn’t actually see the footage myself. When I heard about it I just presumed he slipped on a banana skin, but no; he was flown in to make the announcement and so he did.

He’s been criticized ever since for being a little bit premature (nothing to be embarrassed about; he was probably over excited and did get one of the secret service men to clean it up).

But anyway, that is entirely beside the point.

What I want to reveal to you is this. When Bush made that announcement he wasn’t talking about the war in Iraq, he was referring to something else altogether. This by the way, is the bit you don’t know, but with my contacts in the White House, I have this on good authority.


A reporter asked, ‘Mister President, which hand is your right thumb on?’ Dubya, naturally, raised his left hand. Those people in the audience, who were widely read, saw that it was quite plainly the wrong answer. It was a major political gaffe. Dubya was revealed as being a fuckwit, and the worrying thing was this; he was in charge of the most powerful army in the history of the world.

Luckily, Bush, being the smooth political operator he is, recovered his poise and produced the right answer as you can see from the photograph. Bush was pleased with himself as was the administration, hence the banner saying, ‘Mission Accomplished’

The President had correctly identified the correct thumb, and he knew there would be no stopping him now…

Special Fuckwit Satire

Success


The War against Terror has been a little difficult; as I’m sure you may have noticed. Consequently a new plan has been set up, somewhat limiting the objectives but making it more achievable. The War against Terror has now been renamed, The War against Trevor. This means the rest of the world is now safe.

Providing it's not standing next to Trevor.


You...


You think life is pointless

You wonder if the point of life, is to discover what the point of life is

You begin your quest for the point of life

You discover what the point of life is

You no longer have anything to do, so…

You point out the meaning of life to other people

You get pointed at because they think you're crazy

You point out that pointing is ignorant

You get hit with a shovel

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