Tag Archives: Satire

Squirrel!

squirrel-up-dog-gifFrom a recent news item comes information vital to our civilisations survival.  Via the Igors at the Bill Sticker Institute for Assorted Trivia I bring dire news of a global conspiracy.  A real one.  Not local like most terror threats but one whose breadth truly does affect all humanity.  Friends, we are under assault from the most effective cyber attacks ever imagined by a delusional paranoid schizophrenic completely off their meds, with or without added LSD. Oh yes, it’s that bad.

We’re not talking about Cyber attacks by Anonymous, or China, Daesh, threats to civil liberties by the very people sworn to protect us or even zombie armies looking to snack on what little brains we have left after watching daytime TV.  We’re talking about a real threat, responsible for genuine power outages and all manner of suicide attack as well as nut theft on an industrial scale.  The real enemy is….. Squirrels.

Cybersquirrel with bluetoothInformation is emerging of the sheer magnitude of these assaults on our civilisation. A map of power outages caused by these Decepticon borg-like creatures can be viewed here.  The heinous acts by these creatures include causing multi-vehicle pile ups, single squirrel kamikaze attacks on drivers in open topped vehicles, with invasions of licensed premises and failure to pay for their own drinks tab.  Not to mention the recent California terror rampage and reports of Vampire squirrels targeting deer. Even major sporting events are not immune. The list goes on.

So what can we do, how can we protect ourselves from these random terror attacks? What is the actual depth and scope of the threat we face? Most of the attacks appear to be a ‘suicide’ variant; Squirrels throwing themselves under the wheels of traffic or into sensitive infrastructure thus terrorising entire communities. How do we identify the threat?

CybersquirrelThe problem with threat identification is as demonstrated in this rare picture of a cybersquirrel caught off guard by a courageous camera person, who, although they took this picture using an extremely long lens, was shortly thereafter ambushed and hospitalised by several lightsabre wielding assailants later pictured fighting amongst themselves over credit for the ‘kill’ (See below).

Lightsabre squirrels So what are we to do in the face of a threat more real than global warming, mad bankers, room temperature IQ politicians, rogue asteroids, alien invasions and people who forget to carve new calendars? Fear not. I have a solution, but I would caution my last remaining reader to sit down with a stiff drink before proceeding further because what I am about to propose may seem unpleasant and may even make you nauseous. Are you sitting comfortably? Okay, brace yourself. My proposal is that we have to eat them. All of them. Every last single tree rat has to go. Before these cybersquirrels bring our brave 21st century civilisation and all the comforts we have come to rely on crashing to it’s knees. Because it really is them or us.

It may be the only chance we humans have left……..

New year resolutions

Well, they certainly don’t include giving up drinking because I have two decent single malts and a bottle of Famous Grouse gracing my drinks cabinet.  Nor eating meat, which I won’t be giving up because there are no measurable health benefits to doing so.  And I won’t be giving up  smoking.  Talking of which;

I will be restricting myself to taking a little more moderate exercise (Brisk daily walks), completing my college courses and working a little smarter.

A very Happy New Hangover to everyone……

P.S. I haven’t smoked for over a quarter of a century….. I’ve been restricting myself to giving smouldering looks…… (Evil snigger)

Philosophically thinking

As I was preparing the seasonal repast  (It was excellent by the way – best Pork I’ve ever cooked – wonderful crackling), I came over all reflective and philosophical. You know the kind of thing, those useful titbits of folk wisdom you sometimes wish your Dad or Mum had taken the time to sit you down and tell you about. Not the two-fingers-down-the-throat ‘truth posters’ you find in gift shops that are all about such insincere wetness as ‘peace’, ‘joy’ or even more nauseatingly ’empowerment’, but something a bit earthier and pejorative. Something you can paste up on your wall without your mates thinking you’ve gone all born again and religious, yet retaining a positive spin. One you won’t feel ashamed showing to your tougher friends. Who knows? They might want one too. Copyright free for non-profit and personal use.  Use it as a get well soon card.  Knock yourself out.

THIS IS YOUR LIFE

For those who have difficulties reading the odd bits of upside down and back to front text, I’ve transcribed the key phrases below with a few hopefully helpful notes. Although not necessarily in the order you read them.

 

  1. This is your fucking Life (Well this is a no-brainer, surely?)
  2. You will fuck up (Also true, but I’m always amazed at how many people this catches by surprise.  Even the greatest of us has feet of clay.  Or just aching feet.  Or aching whatever.)
  3. Learn to say “Fuck you!” (But always with a smile, because some people really, really, really deserve it.  You might also want to learn how to run away really quickly.)
  4. Learn to fucking apologise.  (If you’re wrong, put your hands up to an honest mistake – you’ll be amazed how much respect this can earn you.)
  5. There is no fuck up so big it can’t be fixed (With enough time and effort, yes – sometimes not worth it.)
  6. You are not fucking God (Also self evident. Religion has its limitations and should only ever be considered as a rough guideline.)
  7. Learn to smile at your fuck ups (A much better way than endlessly beating yourself up about whatever you previously fucked up)
  8. It’s only fucking pain (Even the most intense pain is temporary, it always goes away eventually) 
  9. Suicide is fucking pointless (No matter how big the hurt, the sun will rise, whether or not you make the poor quality decision not to see it. So long as you’re breathing, you have the opportunity to right the wrong done to you. If not, your friends and family might mourn for a week or three, but the unrequited ‘love of your life’ will eventually move on to someone else or some other lucky sod will reap the rewards of all your hard work.  Sorry, but that’s the truth of it. The only exception to this rule is the alternative of a slow, painful death.)
  10. Get the fuck over it (Too much pride is an Achilles heel – learn to forgive – but not absolutely everything.)
  11. Sometimes you have to walk the fuck away (Truly,  you really have got to know when to move on from a bad situation)
  12. Don’t fuck over your family (Like it or not, these are the most important people in your life. Without family, your life is based on shifting sands.  Although if they fuck you over first – all bets are off.)
  13. Fucking is not love (It’s just sex.)
  14. You can love without fucking (Oddly true.  The physical act does not automatically require emotion and vice versa.)
  15. This is not a fucking dress rehearsal (Get on with it or your dreams will never come true. All good things do not come to them that wait.)

Oh yes, and prepare, because adequate planning and preparation prevent piss poor performance and also the avoidance of complete clusterfucks.  Even if you never have to use the skill or resource.  Happy New Year.

Sex and the thingle Igor

Thorry for the lakthity in pothting, but itth been hell down here. Igor hath caught a nathty computer virus, Igor is on a thtake out, and young Irog ith indithpothed with a bad cathe of dythlekthia. Dethpite all thethe perthonnel problemth, we at the Bill Thticker inthtitue for Irony and Thatire have notithed the reathonth behind all thethe nathty terrorith attacks and people lothing their headth to the Daeth. The prethident of Turkey hath been buying their oil, the Various Gulf thateth thent them money, and the United Thtateth ith thending them gunth.

Nonetheleth; over the weekend, the ladth fell to talking about that old perrennial, thex. You know, bonking, boinking, beatht with two backth, humping, shagging, fukcing and fornicathion, and how whole magathineth theem so fixthated by what ith, after all, a natural human functhion. Which ith, if one thinkth about it logically, ith rather like having magathineth dedicated to going to the toilet, although at thith point we recalled the experimetth of Great Uncle Igor, who briefly potheththed two penitheth. “Double the pleathure, double the fun.” Ath he wath moved to thay at the time. Great Aunt Igorina, a broad minded woman by all accountth, got thick of him fainting every time he and the were in the mood, tho he went back to jutht the one, tho they lived happily ever after.

Thith being the cathe, and after much discuthion, we thent young Igor out to find out what he could.

He found thith;

Which rather contradicth all thethe claimth of North American and European collegeth camputh ‘Rape’ culture, which ith, according to one of the nativeth ladieth, more of an African phenomenon. Thee her TED talk below.

Thith tendth to confirm Young Igorth experienth of Englith Colleges, where it wath not tho much ‘rape’ ath waking up in acute embarathment with the wrong Igorina after a heavy night on the embalming fluid. Thtorm, teacup. Ath marthter William ith wont to obtherve; “Nothing to see here folks. Move along.” Thame ath the whole ‘Thlutwalk’ protethth being originally bathed on one Ontario Politheman’th public pronounthement. It’th jutht activitth posing with their pet peeveth. Maybe if they had better thexth they’d be happier? Probably not.

The Marthter hath popped in on hith way home and pointed out that both hith thtepdaughterth went to two theparate Univerthities, and while they had thteady and not tho thteady boyfriendth during thothe timeth, neither young lady ever complained of anything untoward.   No young gentlemen of their acquaintanth ended up with their trthticleth for tonthilth either.  Ath would have happened if unwelcome advanceth had occurred.   Youngetht kickboxeth and Eldetht doeth Karate and Krav Maga tho we are told…….

Whatever happens to……..?

Bit of a loose end day today on the run down to the festering season. Just had some good career news from both Stepkids. They’ve both had promotions and pay rises recently, so I’m feeling fairly light of heart.

Whilst decking our modest hall prior to our planned low key Xmas break I found myself wondering whatever happens to Social Justice Warriors as they age? The majority are young, highly political, idealistic and energetic in their criticism, ostracism and even real life harassment of people they disagree with. To them, all appears Racist, elitist or sexist, and God help you if you’re not their preferred skin colour or sex.

But what happens to these latter-day Wolfie Smiths when they actually try to grow up? Do they hang up the keyboard, learn to wear business clothes and embrace the culture they once hated so virulently? I remember one guy from college who was a long haired extreme left winger until he discovered the joys of capitalism in the late 1980’s. Last heard of in 2005 on his second trophy wife and buying a new Porsche Carrera. So it’s not beyond the bounds of possibility.

Yet what actually happens to people who have boasted about being a ‘social activist’ on their Twitter, Facebook, Tumbler or Insterwossname feeds? Nowadays it’s well known that the HR departments of many companies routinely vet prospective employees by checking their social media profiles, but how does that affect their recruitment? I put the question to the Staff Igor at the Bill Sticker Institute of Asking Awkward Bloody Questions.
A prothethional igor“Dunno Botth. What I do know ith thoth thothial activisthts are jutht a pain in the bums. No thenth of humour. Did you know one came in yethterday and told me to check my priviledgeth?” I was told.
“How’s that again?” I replied, wiping spit off my sou’wester. “Would you mind dropping the lisp.”
“Thorr- sorry Boss. She told me I was too male to be a proper evil assistant.” He complained. “Said I had to cut off my genitalth and wear a dress.” He added. “I told her the whole transgender thing was so last year and I’d changed back because I didn’t like it much. Aunt Igorina wasn’t happy with me because I kept borrowing her best dresses and getting them taken in at the hips.” He replied ruefully “If you ask me I think the activists are just professional pains in the bum. No sense of humour because they actually think what they’re doing is socially useful. No wonder thome famous comedians have stopped playing colleges.”
“And are these activists useful?” I enquired.
“They’re a bloody nuisance, pardon my Quirmian.” Igor said. “Always trying to shut people up. Po-faced bunch of puritanical perverts.”
“What I mean is; is what they do of benefit to the rest of humanity?” I reiterated.
“Only if you’re in their preferred minority group.” Igor replied candidly, fixing me with a look that said that whilst he might be in a minority, no-one in their right mind should mess with an Igor. At least if you don’t want to wake up with your nose on upside down. Especially when it starts raining and you’ve forgotten your hat. Decent bunch, Igors. Great with the old cut ‘n paste surgery but with a funny sense of humour.
“Yes, but what happens to them when they finally finish college and have to get a job?” I asked.
“Local authorith. Thothial Work. Non-profithts. Academia. Politicth. Living off social security or parents money. Prothethional protethting.” Igor replied. Thtealing Chihuahuas off peopleth front porcheth. Thupermarket thelf thtackerth.” He added darkly.
“You’re lisping again. It’s going to take me hours to get dry.” I complained.
“Tho- sorry Boss.”
“No problem” I replied, thanking Igor for handing me a freshly laundered towel. “So what happens to them, these Fascist anti-racists and Racist anti-sexists?”
“Thome- sorry some, get low level jobth, thorry Botth, can’t drop the listhp, it’th cultural.”
“Along with the extra thumbs and fingers you mean?”
“Prethithely.” Igor grinned back at me. Which was a bit disconcerting as he’s experimenting with his teeth at the moment. Don’t ask. It’s too weird. Let’s just say people should not have triangular dentition, no matter how good that type of tooth is for cutting gristle. I feel sorry for the Sharkth – damn! He’s got me at it now.
“So they’re ‘B’ ark people?” I said.
“Yeth.”
“Got it.” Right, I’m going to go off to have a good long shower and dry off. There are some things I’m happy to do in the spirit of enquiry, but in future I’ll ask my faithful crew of Igors to simply write their answers down.

Where have all the Eagles gone…..?

From the very talented Minnesotans for Global Warming

H/T Jo Nova

No wonder we get Bald Eagles and Peregrine Falcons hanging around over my landladies suburban chicken coop. The wind farm up island is just too dangerous an environment for them. Maybe that’s why the Cougars and Bears are heading into our locale, they’re pissed off with the whoosh-whum noise of the bloody things.

Red tide

I greeted my wife with one word this morning; “Trudeau.”
Her response; “Oh, fuck.”

Yes it’s true. A toxic red tide of votes has swept the nation and there’s another brain dead Trudeau as Canadian Prime Minister. God help Canada.
red tide warning
Well I know that Harper wasn’t the most popular choice, but picking a party headed by a Trudeau? Seriously? That is soo coming back to bite us all. Mulcair would have been better as a national leader.

Why? Because I remember the economic disaster Tony Blair made of the UK, and Trudeau is a politician very much out of that mould. So we can look forward to higher taxes, extra ‘Carbon’ levies, more foreign involvement of our (Canada’s) armed forces and a deeper economic downturn caused by ‘capital flight’ as investors seek safer, or more profitable havens for their hard earned cash. On the plus side, he’ll probably cancel the problematic F-35 and legalise Marijuana, so it’s not all bad news. Even if Trudeau’s policies will probably squeeze out the little guys on the Grow-op front and put up the price of groceries.

For my part I’ll be keeping an eye on real inflation and currency fluctuations over the next year or so and keeping my European funds out of Canada until I’m sure which way the wind is blowing. As I observed to Mrs S this morning, it’s not time to pack our bags just yet. There may yet be a silver lining under this cloud. Canadian dollars ran at 2.15 to the pound sterling back in 2006. Due to the economic downturn in the oil and gas industries occasioned by the Saudis dumping their oil at ridiculously low prices, CAD to GBP is currently about two bucks to the pound. With a Liberal government in power, I can see that value dropping to about CAD$2.20 per GBP along with a drop in local property prices as the canny move their money elsewhere.

Looks like I’ll be using my ‘get a free apocalypse’ card sooner than I thought.
Apocalypse gift card

Warm is good

Curry night in the Sticker Household tonight, with guests. So we’re going to go the full nine yards, poppadoms, a little mint raita and Major Greys Mango chutney. Cocktails, followed by a modest but economical Malbec for quaffing. There may be cheesecake. After that I’m going to fade into the back room to let Mrs S and sisters chew the fat, or more often these days, the fat free. Whatever.

Still blogging at a much reduced level because there’s so little I want to blog about. The sun is shining, the skies are blue, and I’m feeling quite relaxed about everything. Even if my little office overlooking the garden is a little chilly first thing. Once I’ve been in there for a couple of hours it’s cosy enough. Still waiting for this global warming to turn up, failing that my cheque for being a ‘shill for the fossil fuels industry’, or my arrest for being a ‘denier’. Not that I’m holding my breath you understand. I think a late January break in Hawaii or somewhere warm is on the cards. I like warm, warm is good.

So, what’s in the news? Volkswagen have become ‘Smokeswagen’ after being caught cheating on their emissions test. The penalty for which is having your green pass removed and sent to the headmasters office for a quick spanking with your share prices around your ankles.

The current middle eastern refugee crisis is full of people we’re all supposed to feel very sorry for, even if a goodly proportion may want to see us western types and our culture ground under the heel of religious repression. It may mean the end of free movement across European borders as countries like Hungary stick up massive razor wire fences and drop their Schengen treaty obligations like a hot rock. Oh well, at least it will increase employment opportunities for border guard work. Perhaps some of these new wannabe immigrants might be considered for all the new customs and immigration jobs this will create? Germany seems to have some vacancies.

Yes, and more inconveniently, Skype fell over big time yesterday. Well what do you expect? It’s owned by Microsoft, which is one of the reasons I won’t buy Ford. All the onboard satnag and stuff on the Escape for example, have been running on Microsoft for a while. It’s what steered me away from buying one and towards a Subaru instead.

The more observant of either of my readers might observe that the header image has been adjusted. Our motley crew of Igors slaved day and night for at least half an hour to make the ‘improvement’ which saves me having to post the ‘trigger warning’ graphic all the time because this whole site can be considered to be chock full of ‘triggers’, but not Roy Rogers. Incidentally, that old joke was found in a Downtown Thrift Store, where it has been hidden (Some would say rightly so) for over thirty years. As for the ‘no soliciting’ rule, well, that has been covered on the comments policy page.

Offended? Oh I do hope so.

Concur

Sargon of Akkad on the week in stupid. Dickheads wanting global ‘blasphemy’ laws. Dickheads getting excised about a Muppet and so much more. Do any of these people step back for a moment and think?

On the other hand, in order for some people to be of above average intelligence, there must be a far greater number below, because that’s part of how we derive an ‘average’.

Another weapon in the Victimhood arsenal

Institute for dead horse floggingA message has been received from the lads down at the Bill Sticker Academy for Dead Horse Flogging (I thought they’d all retired, but there you go), about a relatively new practice called being ‘Ghosted’ or ‘Ghosting’. Actually it’s not new at all. Apparently in some journo’s lexicon to be ‘ghosted‘ is to be ‘dumped’. Specifically having a relationship truncated for reasons not made clear to the person who is being dumped and further contact denied. You know the sort of thing, ex has dumped all your emails in their spam filter, they’ve changed their telephone number and gone ex directory, changed job, moved with no forwarding address, run away to sea, joined a circus, a monastery or became a Nun.

It happens. People walk out on relationships every day and there’s nothing remarkable about it. That said, it’s no fun getting dumped with your ex refusing to talk to you any more, but there are perfectly good words for it rather than taking another word and painting it in rainbow colours for the aggrieved victimhood industry. Just for the sake of a piece of complete and utter Fark.

The rest of us understand that dumping occurs when one half of a relationship decides that enough is enough and it’s time to bail out. Whether the reasons given are good or not is always very subjective and not worth making a federal case out of. Which is probably what those claiming to have been ‘Ghosted’ want. They want a new legal tool to bloodlessly beat ex-partners into submission with even if erstwhile whatever think the ‘Ghosted’ are too much of a flaming nuisance to bother talking to any more. What the perpetually aggrieved want is a way for those of the ‘bunny boiler’ persuasion or perennially annoying (Which might be a gentle hint as to why someone got dumped in the first place) to enforce contact long after the rabbit is dead. Even though the world has turned and the ghosts have given up on whatever feeling there once was (at least for one party) and buggered off to haunt somewhere else. My advice? If whoever won’t take your calls after a week or so and has changed their number and details, move on. They’re not worth the heartache. Unless they’ve got your property or money, in which case may I advise hiring a decent lawyer.

We live in an age where language is becoming ever more of a lottery. Everyone wants to stake a claim in ‘cool’ (Whatever that is) and make a word or phrase their own. Even if it does sprain your grammar (And put a crimp in poor old Grandpa). However in this particular case I’d say they’re selling metaphorical Belgian beefburgers. It doesn’t matter how you dress it up, getting dumped is just that. A full stop in the story of a relationship. Changing the language to justify chasing after an ex is a truly bad idea because if they cared about how you felt they wouldn’t have dumped you, right? My advice? Don’t flog a dead horse. Lovers are like taxis. It may take some time and effort to flag another one down, but it will pay off with a comfortable ride, if of course you’re willing to take the necessary leap(s) of faith with your eyes wide open this time. You just have to get out more. To change metaphors, it doesn’t mean you have to ride a lot of horses until you find your My Little Pony, but there’s a lot to be said for hanging around the right (for a given value of ‘right’) paddock and just checking stuff out before making a bid.

Being ‘dumped’ therefore shouldn’t be viewed as a totally negative event. Looked at properly it’s actually a time for personal growth and new opportunities. Even if the miserable bitch / bastard in question won’t take your calls. You’re probably better off without them. No matter what words you use.