Expletives deleted, bad motives, good causes & seedy investigations

I’ve been engaged in electronic conversation with a new American friend of late. My swearing during everyday conversation has never been better than barrack-room blue: given the so-called “leaders” with which we are presented, this has seemed to me for many decades now the best form of language to utilise as a means of describing their characters, and general dearth of ethics. But my recently acquired virtual friend has brought her children up to use euphemisms for what Americans call “cussing”, and there’s a lot to be said for this.

Conversation and writing carried out with the use of excessive expletives as per the Nixon White House is more than just regrettable, it’s tedious. But the average 1in8 Citizen these days is so angered by the assumptive intentions of the Unelected State, the fact that they resort to casual obscenity is not really that remarkable. Half the time, I would prefer it if they eschewed the effing and blinding in favour of more exciting terms like, “To the guillotine ye shall go” or even, “Pray tell me Sir, are you not just an abuser of the oxygen supply upon which 7.8 billion innocents are dependent?”

However, the trouble is that the wannabe Super-Race reject that observation. And thus the need to shock them with our quintessential dislike of their uselessness remains.

The insight I draw from my euphemising chum is that the language we use against them should be easily received in the average decent home – but at the same time, brutally obvious in its disapproving invention.

Starting in the Oval Office (and sadly, we must) I would love to stroll into Biden’s workplace, smile as I walked towards him and assert, “Mister President Sir, you are but a polymucky….a boozletroon, a wordwangling postilion of confiscated vomit”.

There you are, you see – not a naughty word in sight, but I think even Sleepie Joe would get that message loud and clear. The British Prime Minister in turn would be informed, “Johnson, you are a stinktimonious collector of bog-gobbling, strangulated hyperpuss”.

Insulting women is not a nice practice for any gentleman, but I sense all right-headed people regardless of gender or nationality would enjoy telling the Fuhrerine Jacinda Ardern, that she is “a product of the New World Bordello, a husseytute trained in the ways of horizontakimbo persuasion suffused with snivel-spit”.

In this, the Century of Correctness, we have lost the art of the insult. Anyone who says what they think is dubbed a bad person and hounded to whatever ends the hypocritics have in mind. And it is highly-concentrated hypocrisy: the day after one columnist in 2016 hinted at rumours of Satanic worship in the Clinton Camp, the New York Times began its fiction about Trumpian ties to Putin. (If that happened today, Reuters would run with ‘Devil is Trump fan, fact checkers say’).

But of course, the existence of so much “fake news” works in favour of the Secret State because we The Resistance can no longer trust the provenance of any accusation. Given such fakery emerges from the media (that it only comes from blogsites is an idiotic myth invented by the MSM) this is indeed ironic: once respected titles used to be known for their ability to call liars to account; in 2022 they invent silly rationales that turn into clichés within weeks: ‘taken out of context’, ‘experts say’, ‘sources close to Zelensky’, “authorities report” and so forth.

Three times in the last ten years, I’ve been deliberately handed home-made bombs of “information” designed to blow up in my face. In one instance, there was a clear-cut case of impersonation involved. Before that – in a previous existence as Not Born Yesterday – I got stuffed bigtime by a false story surrounding an infamous Labour politician I had previously nailed: it was revenge, pure and simple. Only a very good MSM pal rang to save my bacon about an hour after it appeared. It was a lesson well-learned, and an NBY post rapidly vapourised.

My saviour said at the time, “It’s got his fingerprints all over it….this man is a dangerous psychopath who should be in Broadmoor”. The man behind the fake was a senior Cabinet Minister at the time.

Today’s post is in part a reiteration of the main point I made recently here – viz, I really do not believe that batting stats back and forth is what Infowar is about: that’s a bare-knuckle, bruising battle of damned lies in which boxers merely slug their way to an exhausted stand-off.

The main problem the Resistance faces is misplaced electoral trust in depraved élites. The people behind this, the greatest and most megalomanic psy op in human history, are worse than the most despicable Nazi fanatics your grandparents fought in their youth – a lost youth that they can’t bring back fought against fundamentalists who are very much back. Putting up with the current herds of swine is an insult to our forebears.

Stats, numbers and death causes can be debated forever. Clear evidence of depravity can’t. In the end, the evidence overwhelms the perpetrator. We must keep turning stones over and examining what’s beneath….no matter how unpleasant it gets.

Most of you will have noticed by now that the Boy King Macron has been reelected President of France. It happened nine days ago….which is all it took for this to happen:

The headline says ‘Fear of a Covid19 Rebound’. Later on it predicts ‘in the Autumn’. Once more we are being set up for acceptance of the unacceptable.

The most commonly used word for fear in French is ‘peur’. ‘Crainte’ is more of a metaphysical word associated with profound fear – a sense of doom if you like – via which one’s spirit is under attack. In today’s mass media, words are chosen not at random, but with a purpose.

The next stage of control is upon us – more sabre rattling in the Ukraine? Energy hyperinflation? A seventh variant? Food and medicine shortages? General hyperinflation?

Who knows? But on the edge of this geopolitical precipice, it’s good to read the following in yesterday’s La Dépeche:

‘President of Clévacances France Christian Biancanello told us on Monday last that holiday bookings for Lot et Garonne so far this year have smashed all records by being 163% above average’. The day he made this whoopee_whoop comment is, according to my religious calender here, St Boris’s Day.

In July 1939, ski resort bookings in Germany were also 30% above normal. Irony really is my favourite form of humour.