Put the Wall back up, place the nukes on stand-by and alert the Oval Office that they may lose most of the east coast, the Cold War is back on! The wise, new President Obama, in consultation with his Russian and European counterparts, has concluded a treaty restoring the Soviet Union and mutual assured destruction and the world has breathed a sigh of relief. Osama Bin Laden? Pah! Who's afraid of Al-Qaeda when the Russkies have enough ICBMs aimed at Washington to destroy the world 100 times over? No more worrying about highjacking aircraft, any suspicious plane will be shot down by NORAD as a suspected Soviet spy. That's right, the good old days are here again!
Alll across the world, the people rejoice! In Europe, the original members of NATO are delighted that finally their troops won't waste their time trying to steal oil from Islamic despotisms. No, not they. Rather, they'll do what they were mandated to do: interfere in internal politics of proto-socialist nations to "contain" the Commi threat and combat the Domino effect.
In Germany, the Federal government is delighted to be rid of the expense of the former (now renewed) DDR, and Chancellor Angela Merkel finally has the Stassi at her command to enforce her Ossi will.
In the USSR (formerly Russia), the Kremlin is dressed for full, beligerent, Communistic celebration, now that Putin and Medvedev don't need to worry about going through elections to retain power. The Russian Bear is fully restored to its superpower status and the military parades are back to prove it.
In the home of freedom (USA), the House Un-American Activities Committee is knee deep in hearings to root out the Commi slime that lurks within the state, as it surely must now that the Soviets are at the door again. President Obama has begun practicing his rhetoric and re-orientating his foreign policy to focus once more on defeating the Red Scourge. All of America is concentrated on this glorious goal of making everyone in the world as free as they are, by force if necessary, and they have never been happier. As for the economy, the military-industrial complex is working overtime to manufacture as many massively dangerous weapons as possible, not to mention equipping the new army recruits for inevitable, future invasions. Times are good.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
What an Elephant can learn from a Bongo
Robert Gabriel Mugabe should be the world's best dictator. He has an Oxford education, more degrees than Stephen Fry and Stephen Hawking put together, a tight, crab-like grip on power in his native Zimbabwe, he even has the opposition on his side. Like all good post-colonial leaders, he blames the colonial powers for all his country's problems (and there are a lot). Like all good dictators everywhere, he blames the British for everything. So why is Mugabe seen as a failure?
Well, the answer lies in the recently deceased dictator of Gabon, Omar Bongo Ondimba. He had not only ruled longer than Mugabe, but he proved that a despotic kleprocrat could operate under the radar and even be rewarded for it. How was this possible?
Omar Bongo's Guide to Being a Dictator
Step One: Act like the colonial power. Speak the conquerors' language, fully endorse their culture, even live in their capital and hobnob with their political élites.
Step Two: Have as many bank accounts as possible (Bongo had at least seventy). This way, you can keep as muc of you purloined foreign aid money hidden in as many places as possible.
Step Three: Make sure that your country has the highest intake of caviar and champagne in the world, even if you have to consume it all yourself. This way, it looks like your nation is extravagantly rich.
Step Four: Fund/bribe the leaders of the former colonial power, this way they will never call you up on abuses of power, because you'll have dirt on them (and they'll owe you money).
Step Five: Maintain a foreign military base near your centre of power, so that if your people ever look like they're on the brink of revolt, you can call on your colonial allies to break some native heads.
Step Six: Make sure that if you are ever revealed as the kleptocratic hypocrite that you are, it will be such an embarassment to an important European government that their international prestige will take an irreperable hit. This way, they'll simply have to conceal your despotism and fund your lavish, exorbitant lifestyle.
Step Seven: If your opposition proves a problem, just hold free democratic elections and win. That way no-one can claim that you're not the legitamite ruler of your tinpot, little African country.
Step Eight: Install your relatives (especially sons) in key ministries of the government or alternatively hold all the major ministries yourself. None of your relatives will question your orders, since that would cause terrible family problems. And you're certainly not going to disagree with yourself.
Step Nine: Never ever ever do anything to attract international attention. Don't commit acts of genocide, don't invade neighbours, don't fund international terrorist organisations. Remember: You are not that syphillitic madman Id Amin, nor that cannibalistic lunatic Bokassa. For the love of God don't declare yourself Emperor.
Step Ten: If your wife divorces you and starts a pop career singing offensive songs about your new wife, don't do something idiotic like having her killed. Just let it go, it will make you look better in the long run.
Step Eleven: You don't represent some idealogical, philosophical politick. Don't make loud noises about America, you're not Colonel Gaddafi.
Step Twelve: Make sure most of the world doesn't know where your country is, or even that is exists, since you have no oil you'll just prove a nuisance if you're seen to exist. And if you do all this, you just might get an obituary in the Economist. But don't worry, even after you're dead, no-one will notice your crimes.
Well, the answer lies in the recently deceased dictator of Gabon, Omar Bongo Ondimba. He had not only ruled longer than Mugabe, but he proved that a despotic kleprocrat could operate under the radar and even be rewarded for it. How was this possible?
Omar Bongo's Guide to Being a Dictator
Step One: Act like the colonial power. Speak the conquerors' language, fully endorse their culture, even live in their capital and hobnob with their political élites.
Step Two: Have as many bank accounts as possible (Bongo had at least seventy). This way, you can keep as muc of you purloined foreign aid money hidden in as many places as possible.
Step Three: Make sure that your country has the highest intake of caviar and champagne in the world, even if you have to consume it all yourself. This way, it looks like your nation is extravagantly rich.
Step Four: Fund/bribe the leaders of the former colonial power, this way they will never call you up on abuses of power, because you'll have dirt on them (and they'll owe you money).
Step Five: Maintain a foreign military base near your centre of power, so that if your people ever look like they're on the brink of revolt, you can call on your colonial allies to break some native heads.
Step Six: Make sure that if you are ever revealed as the kleptocratic hypocrite that you are, it will be such an embarassment to an important European government that their international prestige will take an irreperable hit. This way, they'll simply have to conceal your despotism and fund your lavish, exorbitant lifestyle.
Step Seven: If your opposition proves a problem, just hold free democratic elections and win. That way no-one can claim that you're not the legitamite ruler of your tinpot, little African country.
Step Eight: Install your relatives (especially sons) in key ministries of the government or alternatively hold all the major ministries yourself. None of your relatives will question your orders, since that would cause terrible family problems. And you're certainly not going to disagree with yourself.
Step Nine: Never ever ever do anything to attract international attention. Don't commit acts of genocide, don't invade neighbours, don't fund international terrorist organisations. Remember: You are not that syphillitic madman Id Amin, nor that cannibalistic lunatic Bokassa. For the love of God don't declare yourself Emperor.
Step Ten: If your wife divorces you and starts a pop career singing offensive songs about your new wife, don't do something idiotic like having her killed. Just let it go, it will make you look better in the long run.
Step Eleven: You don't represent some idealogical, philosophical politick. Don't make loud noises about America, you're not Colonel Gaddafi.
Step Twelve: Make sure most of the world doesn't know where your country is, or even that is exists, since you have no oil you'll just prove a nuisance if you're seen to exist. And if you do all this, you just might get an obituary in the Economist. But don't worry, even after you're dead, no-one will notice your crimes.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Why the BNP did so well
Mr White: The Story of a BNP voter
Mr White was an average, working class British citizen and like all average, working class British citizens he had a healthy, irrational fear of foreign types, loved his Queen and was white. He knew what those foreign types were really up to. He knew that they came from a land of eternal darkness, where wolves and vampires came into the small, grubby, isolated foreign villages at night and carried children off to their lairs. He knew also that those foreign infiltrators had come to Britain (rule Brittania! God save the Queen!) to escape the roving death squads and constant witch trials that were so common in uncivilised countries, Mr White could mention France but chose not to. And then they came to Britain (rule Brittania! God save the Queen) to steal jobs from unsuspecting, hardworking Britons. While Mr White didn't work himself (he was provided for by the social welfare) he still felt afronted by the theft of local jobs.
On election day he awoke early, which for him was about 3 in the afternoon. He ate a hurried breakfast of good, solid, grease-filled, artery clogging British meat and eggs. He knew that he might one day suffer the repercussions from this, but he was a British patriot, damn it! He wasn't going to eat any foreign rubbish. And all the healthy food his doctor recommended was foreign made. After breakfast, he picked up his crayon and headed to the polling station. He normally did not vote because the polling station was in the local library and he wasn't allowed there because of certain unpleasantness This year, however, the polling station was in the local school. That court case was still pending.
He went to the polling station, was reminded that he needed his voting card so he headed straight off home. He found his voting card under a pile of angry letters he had written to the BBC, the Home Office and Radio 1 the previous day and made a beeline for the polling station. He took his voting card, scrutinised it closely and made his big "X" next to his preferred candidate on the fourth attempt. At the end of the ballot he wrote "For too keep the forigners out. God save the Kween!", dropped his ballot paper into the box and went home.
Once at home, had a dinner of fried British bread, wrote an irate letter to the Prime Minister's office on the proiliferation of immoral and irreligious programming on television nowadays. Then he watched a cheap snuff film followed by a documentary on Hitler and then went to his bed and dreamed of a world without foreigners.
The next day he was arrested on outstanding warrants for sending sexually explicit e-mails to Anne Widdecombe MP.
FIN
Mr White was an average, working class British citizen and like all average, working class British citizens he had a healthy, irrational fear of foreign types, loved his Queen and was white. He knew what those foreign types were really up to. He knew that they came from a land of eternal darkness, where wolves and vampires came into the small, grubby, isolated foreign villages at night and carried children off to their lairs. He knew also that those foreign infiltrators had come to Britain (rule Brittania! God save the Queen!) to escape the roving death squads and constant witch trials that were so common in uncivilised countries, Mr White could mention France but chose not to. And then they came to Britain (rule Brittania! God save the Queen) to steal jobs from unsuspecting, hardworking Britons. While Mr White didn't work himself (he was provided for by the social welfare) he still felt afronted by the theft of local jobs.
On election day he awoke early, which for him was about 3 in the afternoon. He ate a hurried breakfast of good, solid, grease-filled, artery clogging British meat and eggs. He knew that he might one day suffer the repercussions from this, but he was a British patriot, damn it! He wasn't going to eat any foreign rubbish. And all the healthy food his doctor recommended was foreign made. After breakfast, he picked up his crayon and headed to the polling station. He normally did not vote because the polling station was in the local library and he wasn't allowed there because of certain unpleasantness This year, however, the polling station was in the local school. That court case was still pending.
He went to the polling station, was reminded that he needed his voting card so he headed straight off home. He found his voting card under a pile of angry letters he had written to the BBC, the Home Office and Radio 1 the previous day and made a beeline for the polling station. He took his voting card, scrutinised it closely and made his big "X" next to his preferred candidate on the fourth attempt. At the end of the ballot he wrote "For too keep the forigners out. God save the Kween!", dropped his ballot paper into the box and went home.
Once at home, had a dinner of fried British bread, wrote an irate letter to the Prime Minister's office on the proiliferation of immoral and irreligious programming on television nowadays. Then he watched a cheap snuff film followed by a documentary on Hitler and then went to his bed and dreamed of a world without foreigners.
The next day he was arrested on outstanding warrants for sending sexually explicit e-mails to Anne Widdecombe MP.
FIN
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