Prologue:
The title does not refer to Messrs. Ahamadinejahd, Berlusconi, Brzezinski, Bush, Cheney, Gadaffi, Hu, McCain, Mugabe, Obama, Pofalla, Putin, any scalpers, masters of Monsanto & Co., members of any sect, secret and/or surveillance service etc. etc..
However, in case any person mentioned above feels fancy to feel addressed by the title: Very welcome.
And in case anybody misses her/his name and/or the name of her/his organisation: Just let me know, and your name will immediately be added.
End of the beforegoing.
Actually, the title does nothing but mirror the dominating thought while I was reading this article.
Showing posts with label bigotry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bigotry. Show all posts
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Monday, July 14, 2008
Bitter for Mr. Vitter
As everybody knows 219 years ago a few French stormed the Bastille because they were sick to death of their king and wanted to get what they deserved. 15 years later they got an emperor.
For sure a grand reason for a national holiday.
I could go on and on praising the French and their (sic) revolution*, but ... sorry ... right now I wonder what has happened to the famous David Vitter, who almost exactly one year ago claimed 'he had asked for and received forgiveness from God and his wife - undoubtedly the greatest story for the past 2020 or even 10.000 years, which the BBC gave away though, by mentioning it in a subordinate clause.
Well, googling 'Vitters, prostitute ring, trial', and voilà ha ha ha ... so ho ho ho rry ... hardly ca ha ha han't write.
Help yourself.
Back? And? Isn't this a most touching photo? And wouldn't you say: Yes, this is undoubtedly an intelligently designed couple?
What I cannot entirely understand: As Mr. Vitters has already received forgiveness by Mr. and Mrs. God - and who would doubt his words? -, why would there be an earthly trial? Isn't God any longer boss in his own country?
*French Revolution: another term for replacing a king by an emperor
For sure a grand reason for a national holiday.
I could go on and on praising the French and their (sic) revolution*, but ... sorry ... right now I wonder what has happened to the famous David Vitter, who almost exactly one year ago claimed 'he had asked for and received forgiveness from God and his wife - undoubtedly the greatest story for the past 2020 or even 10.000 years, which the BBC gave away though, by mentioning it in a subordinate clause.
Well, googling 'Vitters, prostitute ring, trial', and voilà ha ha ha ... so ho ho ho rry ... hardly ca ha ha han't write.
Help yourself.
Back? And? Isn't this a most touching photo? And wouldn't you say: Yes, this is undoubtedly an intelligently designed couple?
What I cannot entirely understand: As Mr. Vitters has already received forgiveness by Mr. and Mrs. God - and who would doubt his words? -, why would there be an earthly trial? Isn't God any longer boss in his own country?
*French Revolution: another term for replacing a king by an emperor
Monday, December 17, 2007
Swearboarding for Saudi Machos
Yesterday, by scroogling Lord Ahmed and Fethullah Gülen in order to find articles in which both gentlemen would be mentioned I did again stumble over something completely different: this one month old article.
And again I felt the almost untamable wish to at least let the judges and everybody (!) responsible for enabling such "legal practice" know the myriads of curses, maledictions and swear-words my closest friend and I have been collecting, so far.
Yes, deeply I did regret that once I promised myself to keep contenance when blogging.
End of the beforegoing.
Today, what a surprise, one could read this.
Relief for the woman, yes.
But did the news calm my furor? Not at all.
And so, in a few minutes, after having fallen into the feathers and having put the head on my pillow I shall hopefully get presented the same dream I enjoyed the night before.
The King of Saudi Arabia, his complete entourage including judges and clergy being sent from the desert into the devils' kitchen where they are getting preferential treatment: Heaviest swearboarding which would not end before these ... hm ... these gentlemen would promise with immediate effect to veil their faces up til infinity and walk four steps behind their wives when lugging the shopping bags.
The Peace of the Night.
And again I felt the almost untamable wish to at least let the judges and everybody (!) responsible for enabling such "legal practice" know the myriads of curses, maledictions and swear-words my closest friend and I have been collecting, so far.
Yes, deeply I did regret that once I promised myself to keep contenance when blogging.
End of the beforegoing.
Today, what a surprise, one could read this.
Relief for the woman, yes.
But did the news calm my furor? Not at all.
And so, in a few minutes, after having fallen into the feathers and having put the head on my pillow I shall hopefully get presented the same dream I enjoyed the night before.
The King of Saudi Arabia, his complete entourage including judges and clergy being sent from the desert into the devils' kitchen where they are getting preferential treatment: Heaviest swearboarding which would not end before these ... hm ... these gentlemen would promise with immediate effect to veil their faces up til infinity and walk four steps behind their wives when lugging the shopping bags.
The Peace of the Night.
Saturday, July 07, 2007
The Infidel and the Hottentots
Following an episode briefly described here, in the TV news one could see a man shouting in despair (quoting literally): "I beg Abdul Rashid Ghazi to let our children go. We shall follow any jihad against the infidel, but here Muslims are fighting against Muslims."
This reminds me of a Maghrebinian woman last year complaining about being discriminated although having a French passport: "Why do they do so? We are human beings, too. We are no Hottentots."
The Peace of the Night!
This reminds me of a Maghrebinian woman last year complaining about being discriminated although having a French passport: "Why do they do so? We are human beings, too. We are no Hottentots."
The Peace of the Night!
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Your turn, Lysistrata
Oh dear. Reading this makes really difficult to tame one's fingers not to produce indecent words. So I should like to give over these huMAN judges to the Devil's Kitchen. He would find the right rants. Although I am not sure the letters of alphabet will do. Perhaps it's time to create some more.
But one decent wish should be allowed.
Waking up tomorrow, I should like to hear this breaking news:
"On behalf of and authorised by 28 million Iranian women Lysistrata delivers the very ultimatum!
The Peace of the Night.
P.S. Ah, resorting oneself either to wishful thinking and/or swearing; talking Billingsgate, railing, cursing and execrating: All this is fine from time to time, and - yes - it demonstrates, it can demonstrate solidarity; a kind of solidarity.
Unfortunately, though, it does not change anything. It does, f.e. not help these women.
And that is why sometimes I do ask myself, if what I am writing here and others there is not just a sign of helplessness, of defeatism, of ... loquacious cowardice.
As Heinrich Heine said:
Der Knecht singt gerne Freiheitslieder
des Abends in der Schenke.
The peasant loves singing rebel songs [songs of freedom]
in the pub at night.
But one decent wish should be allowed.
Waking up tomorrow, I should like to hear this breaking news:
"On behalf of and authorised by 28 million Iranian women Lysistrata delivers the very ultimatum!
The Peace of the Night.
P.S. Ah, resorting oneself either to wishful thinking and/or swearing; talking Billingsgate, railing, cursing and execrating: All this is fine from time to time, and - yes - it demonstrates, it can demonstrate solidarity; a kind of solidarity.
Unfortunately, though, it does not change anything. It does, f.e. not help these women.
And that is why sometimes I do ask myself, if what I am writing here and others there is not just a sign of helplessness, of defeatism, of ... loquacious cowardice.
As Heinrich Heine said:
Der Knecht singt gerne Freiheitslieder
des Abends in der Schenke.
The peasant loves singing rebel songs [songs of freedom]
in the pub at night.
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