Here’s hoping that an enlarged hard-copy of this article by Owen Paterson, the now former Environment Secretary is securely fixed in a prominent position in No. 10 Downing Street’s Cabinet Room.
Of course, it would never happen, as the present occupant of No. 10, besides thinking that sacking good politicians and replacing them with allegedly-well-dressed women will ensure his own re-election as Tory leader and Prime Minister; has his own reasons for the sacking of this hugely-popular politician, whose crimes, as far as I can tell, are to stand up to so-called environmental pressure groups, chop the lunatic policies of the bent quango-crat Chris Smith regarding not dredging rivers which have been dredged for decades; and instigate the cull of disease-ridden badgers so that our dairy herds may live free of tuberculosis.
I don’t know if any loyal reader has checked out the ‘nightmare in Comcast-land’ where an ordinary American bloke who has had a Comcast broadband connection decided that he and his family wanted to trade away, get another service provider, and break with Comcast completely. To check out this truly-Orwellian conversation, go to this link, and it will be revealed in all its awesome clarity. But the point, made later on any number of Commentary blogs, radio & tv spots, is that the Comcast bloke was literally or seemingly only trying to do his job, which is that of a ‘Customer Retention Representative’. Seems as though Comcast takes the nightmare of losing customers rather seriously, and every CRE gets a bonus for customers retained, for ‘milking services’ presumably, but, if the CRE does not show success, his number comes up on a monthly ‘debit board’, and he either loses his bonus, or gets placed on a Comcast ‘watch list’; which is presumably just about the same as the modern version of Long John Silver’s ‘Black Spot’.
Now I recently bought a new ‘smart-ish’ phone, and signed up with a different Service provider. Now when we in Gt. Britain wish to move from one mobile provider to another, you apply for a Port Authorisation Code, and then you can take your number, and your business, wherever you wish. So I contacted Orange, because I had been with them until alerted that they were much more expensive than others. So I called Orange, and asked for my PAC, and this bloke says, “Who are you moving to?”
Now I don’t normally get all uptight with people in call-centres, mainly because they usually work from screen menus, but because this clown wouldn’t leave off asking where and why I was placing my mobile business elsewhere, I abruptly told him to ‘f*** off’, give me my PAC number, and cease pissing around.
I would only note that Comcast is seeking FCC approval to take over Time Warner, and wonder if the FCC is noticing they are allowing one big bully to get ever larger!
Before posting on a subject which is worthy of at least some discussion, before being cast into the cess-pool from which it has arisen, I thought I would lighten the atmosphere by posting a photo of what must be the most enchanting small child’s smile published this year.
A long-awaited bill being published by the former Lord Chancellor Lord Falconer has parallels with the 1967 Abortion Act by placing responsibility for authorising the action in the hands of two doctors.
legalise assisted dying
upholding the sanctity of human life without regard to suffering caused in the process
“ethical turning point”
be promoting anguish and pain, the very opposite of a Christian message of hope.”
the commandment “Thou shalt not kill” should not mean prolonging suffering.
in the face of the reality of needless suffering.”
In writing about this pernicious, dangerous and illiberal Assisted Dying Bill, I would attempt to explain my thoughts. The quotations, taken from people who support this Bill, do not state the truth about what is proposed. The Bill is written and introduced to change the Law. Ignore all the emotional rubbish held within those quotations, the supporters of this Bill want, wish and work towards one thing, and one thing only :-
I knew the girl I met was for me some ten seconds after we first saw each other, but, upon my return after my last trip to sea, I laid siege until she agreed to marry me. We were gloriously, blissfully happy, our family grew and blossomed; until I was finally made aware that my beloved wife was seriously ill, and I had to have her committed. My wife of now some forty-seven years has been suffering from the effects of schizophrenia for some forty-three of those years. For many years, after she was released to me from the mental hospital where she was treated, she was back to some 95-97.5% of the woman whom I fell in love with, all those years ago in one chance evening at the Empire Ballroom in Leicester Square; but things went downhill some ten or twelve-odd years ago.
She now sits upstairs on her bedside, anxiously awaiting my help for even the slightest move to swivel across to her commode. She depends upon me for everything, and I would be a strange caricature of a man if I ever deserted her. My philosophy of life is now, and has been for many years; ‘you play the hand you are dealt’, and this is what I do for the woman I love. But what might happen to my love if I should die before her? Being totally dependent upon others for everything, and I do mean everything; more than likely she would be headed straight for a care facility, would she not be a prime target for these do-gooders who believe firmly that they know what is best for one who cannot articulate her needs and wishes?
I once visited an old-aged people’s home/complex in Islington to help a mate of mine who was compiling an electrical tender document, and I will be honest when I state that I have never witnessed anything more dispiriting in my entire life. I entered the main room/hall of the home, and there must have been at least seventy or eighty elderly people seated there, but the strange thing was the fact that they were all seated at seventy or eighty different angles to one another; there were two televisions blaring away at opposite corners of the room, no-one was watching either, and this was the first time that I had ever witnessed what is called the ‘Thousand-mile-stare’, where the person’s eyes are focussed over a huge distance away. The staff could safely be described as uniformly useless, as I gathered when talking to the one helpful staff member, a maintenance bloke, who simply sniffed when asked his opinion of his fellow workers, then replied, ‘when they aren’t in ever-extended meetings discussing how much they would not be doing, they are forever looking after themselves; with not much time left for the poor sods in the armchairs and beds’! I spotted one lady, seated in a wheelchair, trapped in the space between a wall and a folding door. She had been left by the ‘caring’ staff member, and forgotten as breakfast had been served, and no-one missed her, until an outsider arrived and gently wheeled her out of her confinement. She was so pathetically grateful to me, a stranger for helping her. Needless to state, I made my own feelings pretty plain to the management, but I don’t believe that my anger even registered!
Reference is made in one of the earlier quotations to the Abortion Act of 1967. I would simply remind readers that one of the ruling guidelines in 1967 was that two doctors should examine and confer with the pregnant woman before agreeing and signing to that abortion procedure. Those guidelines are now so loose that a NURSE can authorise an abortion. I would remind ATW readers that, in just four years, there have been 731801 babies, foetuses; call them what you will, killed quite legally in this so-called civilised country of ours! Just consider what a bunch of politicians and their fellow bottom-feeding compatriots could do once the Euthanasia Bill becomes Law?
The Assisted Dying Bill, which in reality should be renamed the ‘Euthanasia Bill’ or the even more explanatory The Inconvenience Bill’ or the ‘Let us get rid of the Old, the Ill, the Insane, the Sufferers from incurable and painful Diseases, those who alarm us by their very longevity, and the Memories of what faces us all Bill’ is a shameful and destructive piece of legislation, and we, along with the dangerous do-gooder Clowns who propose and back this tawdry attempt to change, by euphemism alone, the settled Law, should be ashamed that Legislation as bad, corrupt and disgraceful as this Bill undoubtedly is, even passes across the threshold of the House of Lords in these troubled times.
I often ‘click’ on links just to see what they hold in the way of explorers the world over, and it is rare when I am not rewarded by an item whjich displays the true foolishness of the human condition. Some amuse me, some annoy me intensely, but some times, perhaps too rarely, I come across an article or opinion piece which does make you stop, and think, and even occasionally say, as does my heading, “There but…….”.
So I would ask readers to perhaps ‘click’ to find an article by a once-affluent lady, who found that sometimes you do have to swallow your pride, just to get by; before grasping the ladder back up once more.
I know just how she felt.
An open letter to David Cameron & Ruth Davidson (Scots Tory leader)
I am in receipt of your begging letter asking for donations to aid the anti-separation side of the Scots Independence referendum vote.
From being a life-long Tory believer and thinker; your craven, homosexual-friendly actions in regard to the so-called ‘gay marriage’ law, no doubt fuelled by your homosexual friends from Eton, has turned me into a firm apostle for UKIP. Your actions and drive to change the law so that a bunch of queers might be ‘equal’ gave me, and many, many thousands like me, the final impetus to change our political affiliations, and alter the very way in which we sought expression of our democratic principles.
You ask for a donation to aid Scots Conservatives to maximise the anti-separation vote on referendum day. You ask that I ‘give generously’!
I happily state that I would not donate the sweat from my socks towards any programme endorsed by your slimy Party, which consists of fellow travellers, clowns, rich people trying to get richer, and stalwarts of my generation who have not yet reached breaking point with the Tories, but have stayed because of the ties which bind, and of the good manners which have stayed them from telling you the truth about your lies.
If the Referendum states that Scotland will be independent, so be it, but most of the blame will rest with you, because you forgot that people, ordinary people like me, have very, very long memories!
In the true spirit of journalism, I had a look at the effects of things similar to Google’s European operations having to comply with EU court rulings on privacy.
Some wonderful things can be highlit by such searches, but the funniest, and possibly the most unwelcome, result of a request for anonymity can be seen here:-
- The Boring Home: Aaron and Christine Boring of Franklin Park Pa. claimed that Google Maps’ Street View feature violated their privacy, devalued their property and caused them mental suffering by posting images of a private road in front of their house. The Borings said that the images of their home must have been taken from their long driveway, which is labeled “Private Road.”
I would have suggested a change of name.
A strange but pertinent fact regarding these requests for ‘anonymity’ is that, by simply swapping your search engine from Google UK to Google.com, all such requests are nullified, because Google.com lives, alive and kicking, in America, the ‘Land of the Free’!
As the Guardian states, it is fairly obvious the Google doesn’t like the ruling from the Court, so it notes that not only do all the stories still exist on the various websites linked, but now not shown, Google itself has begun a small but telling addtion to its Home pages; as if you check down the right-hand base of the screen you are directed to the American home page, and there you will see, as I pointed out earlier, all the links which those shifty people are trying to hide.