the theme of pc


who, let’s face it, are the up-and-coming force. No apologies, Snowflake, you are indeed a Force to be considered. Proud?


that the excuse for anti-Free Speech behaviours is your infantile need to rail against whatever currently upsets your little toy box—today’s fad, for example, is ‘prejudice’.

So anyone exhibiting a ‘prejudice’ (as defined by you) is your target—and you crawl out of your stool* to attack anyone you outnumber. It’s good to see that you aren’t prejudiced where females are concerned—equality gets no fairer than this …


is something I intended to post years ago but I never posted it. I’d be interested if any Snowflake would take me up on it?**

It began with racial prejudice but drifted off topic a bit—



Query: is racial prejudice—

(a)  as good as

(b)  slightly worse than

(c)  better than

—religious prejudice?

—location prejudice?

—age prejudice?

—global warming prejudice?

—fiction prejudice?

The list of available prejudices is possibly longer than the list of people available to indulge them. (Thankfully some folks can accommodate many prejudices).


when all else fails try to enforce their goodwill at the point of a gun, and by law compel everyone to be ‘prejudice-free’. Should it be done? Perhaps, if that’s what it would take to get Snowfla  people who are newcomers (to morality, justice, and thought) to actually think.


It cannot be done, except by force … and force would simply drive prejudices underground where they’d fester. Prejudices can come from within as the result of experiences; they are the lifetime distillations of experiences measured against internal standards—which means, Snowflake, ‘If you see someone doing things YOU consider bad, you become prejudiced against them’***. Or, they can be inculcated by folks out to further their ends at your expense.

Bovine-excrement-meter-animation.gifThe real ‘bad’ here is if/when you suspend your own critical faculties and religiously accept other peoples’ words instead of verifying for yourself. Not good. Invest in one of these, Snowflake (and USE the bugger)—


to values. Values mean judgement. Judgement means comparisons. But you cannot compare/judge without facts. You could always of course do as your betters command and simply take their word for it: which you do, Snowflake. You wouldn’t be a Snowflake if you were capable of reason, would you? (Oops, 500 words, quite enough for now…)


gunnoob.gif* A pun, Snowflake. If too subtle for you, go look it up. If you are a Newbie at thinking … I can wait.

** Courage in numbers, you’ll have to wait for reinforcements, Snowflake.

*** Judge not lest thou be judged, no? Wrong, Snowflake! You must judge, your very survival depends on it. (Suppose you wanted to beat up some tiny objectivist bitch indoctrinating a class full  of victims with ‘Free Speech’ rubbish, and found that she outnumbered you, hmmm?)


MILITANT SNOWFLAKES, Screen Shot 2017-06-01 at 19.45.29


It’s a long time since I saw the Liza Minelli movie ‘Cabaret’ so I may be mixing imagery here; but at one point in the film there was an earnest looking young Aryan in full ‘hearts and minds for Adolf’ campaign kit singing to a startled, then rapt, then wildly enthusiastic audience. All bright golden spring-morning sunshiney stuff, stags in forests running free etc etc …

…whilst out of sight and mind some SS type thugs were cheerily demolishing a Jewish business owner in a back room, killing the snot out of him with fists and boots.

Out of sight—the SS types only crawl out of the woodwork when all the stag-foresty blue-eyed blond singing Aryans have done the groundwork for them. Quite clever, actually…


to the now—

      You’ll remember that students at Middlebury College in Vermont physically attacked both Charles Murray and his host, Allison Stanger, on March 2 (see here and here). Never mind that most of them hadn’t read The Bell Curve, or that Murray wasn’t even talking about that book; it was enough that he got demonized because they heard Murray was a racist. Fine; let them protest from their ignorance, but don’t allow them to physically assault Murray. Stanger’s hair was pulled, and apparently that injured her neck.

      Over at the Washington Post, columnist Richard Cohen, whose politics I don’t know, has a piece decrying the thugs at Middlebury, “Protestors at Middlebury College demonstrate ‘cultural appropriation’—of fascism, which is a good title …

for source:  CLICK HERE

I guess Middlebury College (and all who sail in her) qualifies as first recipient of the newly instigated ‘Snowflake Award‘.

Here, have a nice Snowflake—


—and be aware that to earn the award all you have to do is be militantly closed-minded, pig-ignorant, two-faced, and viciously anti-Freedom*. (A bit PC wouldn’t do you any harm either.)

pcAre you PC?

If you are, wonderful!

You’ve proved that you cannot think for yourself (and lack the spheres to do so anyway) so you are already well on the way to your first Award**.

Hang in there, we may yet get the official t-shirts made …

And now, possibly like me you need a refresher on the value of free speech and the meaning of the film. I intend to view it again soon. It seems much more germane now than when I first saw it years ago.


* You know, ‘Freedom” — those hackneyed old ‘free speech’ cliches (and similar such outdated outmoded unfashionable rubbish).

** The ‘Snowflake Award’ of course.



this the final resort of the utterly desperate.

Sarcasm? Just hyperbole taken just a little more to the extremis end of the scale. Sadly I’m a bit too long in the tooth to worry about offending the sensitive—I call it as I see it, and if I’m wrong my mistakes will be in turd with my bones (Shakespeare) (sort of).


but look at history and run screaming from the room, no? Some take comfort in Jesus (or Allah, Buddha, Charlie, etc etc …) others hide behind various mind-expanders.

“Desperate,” I was told at school by knowledgeable teachers (mostly men with a good eye and superb coordination when it comes to throwing things) “stems from the Latin de meaning away from, and spero meaning ‘I hope’.”

So the desperate are those with no hope.

I’ve been desperate then for a very long time. How can there be ‘hope’ for anyone with eyes open and one half of four fifths of two thirds of .0000000000001 per cent of a mind capable of integrating and interpreting reality?


here has to be ‘what, pray, is reality?’ and it is a toughie. The love of Christ of course answers all such questions, as does the love of Allah and His merry minions with their own rather peculiar* peccadilloes, and the love of any of the many tens of thousands of unique Creators, divinities, gods, Gods, goddesses etc etc ad nauseam throughout history.

Real to some, no?

I personally tend to think that a sharpened bayonet or a falling bomb is a bit more real than a crucifix or gibbering mullah’s babbles, but that’s just me. I’m a sarcastic bastard and when I see things from my own twisted perspective I take refuge in sarcasm. (Hardly anyone reads my blogs anyway so I can’t offend too many.)


have a nice shot of a parked cars in Invercargill—

Packed park parking.png

—and tell me why I put such an irrelevance in this post?**

And on the subject of reality, here’s a replay of the nice chart that I haven’t even attempted to verify ‘cos being Greenland it’s hardly relevant to me in New Zealand … or you, wherever.


And yes—that was sarcasm.


* Judge not, lest thee be judged … “Full ahead both!” (and damn the torpedoes …)

“Mr Argus! Sir!”

(Bugger, it’s Little Virginia …)

“Yes, sweet Pest?”

“Sir—you said ‘damn’ … it’s a naughty word, Sir!”

“Oh … … bugger.”


** CLUE: if you have to ask you’ve missed my point …



on the web. It has a certain resonance, a Jenny say kwa that will cause the average  modern punter to recoil in shock-horror-dismay; so—


not PC 2


We live in a country called Daftland

The England we knew is no more

Where sensible people do ludicrous things

Or risk breaking some Daftland law.

In Daftland we’ve police dogs with muzzles

Less the villain has cause to complain

And to steal from a shop and say ‘sorry’

Means you’re free with no stain to your name.

You’d better leave lights on in buildings

When you lock up and go home at night

’cause the burglars might hurt themselves entering

And there’s no way you’ll be in the right.

When speaking be wary in Daftland

As some terms that you’ve used all your life

Now have connotations unintended

And you’ll end up in all sorts of strife.

We elect politicians in Daftland

To give us the laws of the land

Yet eight laws in ten now come from abroad

The whole thing has got out of hand.

The borders are open in Daftland

And of migrants there’s no keeping track

Just a few of the thousands illegally here

Will ever be caught and sent back.

The exception to this is the hero

Who fought for this land in the war

He’s old and he’s sick, he might cost us a bit

So he’s not welcome here no more.

When the history is written of Daftland

Historians may just recall

That the craziest people in Daftland

Are the public who put up with it all …


—make of it what you will. Here, have another image gleaned from the web (from the website of a damned cynic I believe may now be a bit deceased) (but he was too damned real to live long anyway; I use his image to honour his memory)—


—and for social comment it’s a work of pure genius.






So I’ll open with a chestnut that seemed ever so funny, once—

ME:  When is a door not a door?

Victim:  Glop?

ME:  Give up?

Victim:  If I have to?

ME: (triumphantly) When it’s ajar! Boom boom! Gotcha!

Moving on … think ‘variation on a theme’, but this time in all seriosity and with no traps in mind (and no puns intended, I promise you*).



onboard desktop dictionary now serves as point of entry to my theme for the day. Using it and our own experiences, what can we deduce about ‘door’, hmmm?

“Mr Argus, Sir?” (Oh goodie … it’s little Virginia again)

“Yes, Cutie?”

“Sir—are you alluding to the fact that doors can be opened?”

“Bingo, Kid! Brilliant as well as perstifero  gorgeous. Furthermore, yes~!”

“Awww, shucks, Sir …”

True, too. Doors serve the useful function of being openable as well as blocking passage.

If you can’t open a door, is it still a door?

Brrrrr. So?

So let me draw your attention to one of the unresolved mysteries of our time. Ever heard of Wepwawet?

Ol' Weppie.png

No, not many have. But quite a few are/were aware that one Rudolph Gantenbrink esq. drove a wee robotic device of his own devising up one of the mystery shafts in the GP of E at Giza.

They named the wee beastie Upuaut** and it performed beautifully, toddling up the shaft like a bought one until it reached an unexpected blocked up road-block. Not good. It snapped the now iconic image of the road-block, which was promptly named ‘Door’—


—by almost everyone referring to it. Okay then — everyone. Picky

The above snap is one from Upuaut and appears on Gantenbrink’s own site, more accurately labelled as ‘stone slab’. I like that—doors can be opened, slabs are a bit unequivocal that way.

We are also told that those apparent artefacts on the slab are copper handles. I put this suggestion in my “Awwww … gimme a break!” box.

To my uneducated eye they look more like yer basic electrical contacts, which would be pushing the limits of fancy a bit far ‘cos the ancients never had no electricity***.

They (moderns) could always sail another (more recent) robot up to that putative door and slap a multimeter across those handles, check for any signs of electrical potentials and/or resistivity. Perhaps (this is the CT in me coming out now) ‘they’ have already done that, shivered, and shut the project down? Who knows****?


that ol’ Gantenbrink wanted to do a lot more with upgraded robots but got promptly banned from the site by everyone’s favourite ol’ buddy (Zahi Hawass); which the CT in me thinks was for obvious but unmentionable reasons. I guess we’ll never know.

It’s years since I’ve been this way, so I’ll have to do some updating; don’t wait up …

GP of E at G.png

the Great Pyramid of Giza

buitre16 Ye gods. From all the burbling literature one could expect something a bit more impressive than a cute little pile of rubble, no?


* Trap … door? Trapdoor? Get it? Ohhhhh … dunno why I bovver, Guv~!

** Guess how it’s pronounced?

*** Someone said that the (now lost~!) ‘Baghdad battery’ could equally be a pickle jar …

**** And how the hell would we ever know? (Dammit—we need a few more Snowdens.)



the time has come to remake some points mentioned in a prescient post:

The English language was(once) a precision tool. Very adaptive, it could be used for analysis, transmission of genius, romance, and even escape. It had strict rules that made and kept it precise. Sadly, no more; now anything goes. Even simple spelling. (I get away with murder here, but it’s deliberate—I do no the difference.)


which should be the progressive bastion of liberal discipline has become taken over by manipulators. The authorities are now authoritarian, which is as Orwell/Huxley might have put it “Doubleplus ungood”.


Don’t ask.

You would get only glibly delivered outraged pap if you were to do so, from behind a full-frontal smile concealing the behind-the-scenes notebooks frantically scribbling your particulars. Expect a visit soon from the Thought Police (and let’s hope you are good at peeling onions) soon after. Less hassle to just ignore it all—you know, roll over onto your back, stick all four paws up in the air and say “Take me! I’m yours!”


take careful note of what is now acceptable (and before long will be compulsory)—


—taken from:

—and may your academic gods have mercy on your grammatical souls.

YOU, Sir, Madam, or Thing … are being manipulated.

It will get worse,