Category: Mocking Furriners

Living by Their Own Rules

Mocking Furriners, Watermelons

I see that the German Watermelon Party is doing their usual outrage thing:

Members of Germany’s Green party are furious after the country’s ruling Chancellor, Olaf Scholz, ordered that the country’s remaining nuclear power plants be kept in operation beyond 2022, reversing an earlier plan to have the facilities decommissioned by January 1st 2023.

…this despite the fact that Germany is facing catastrophe without their beloved Russian natgas supply over the winter.

Here’s my thought:  the Germans are famous for their ability to interfere with the lives of its individual citizens — their “rain tax” alone is evidence thereof — so why doesn’t the KrautGov simply turn off all Green politicians’ household electricity from, say, November to April, and give these fuckwits a taste of what their outrage would mean to ordinary citizens, if allowed to direct national power policy?

I know, that’s way too simple a thing to ask, and no doubt the Kraut media storm would be deafening as older Greens start to die of cold (a feature not a bug, but you know what I mean).

I’d suggest mass executions (to save electricity, of course), but the Germans do that kind of thing a little too well, as we all know.

Slanted Coverage

Elections, Mocking Furriners

As the Italian general elections of earlier this week gave rise to victory of a coalition of  “right-wing” and “neo-fascist” parties, the headlines were predictable:

CNN:  Oh Noes, Faaaaascists!

The Irish Times:  Just like Mussoliiiini!

BBC:  Europe Trembles!

…and so on.  (I may have jazzed up the headlines a little, but mine actually reflect the tone of the articles better than their own headlines do.)

Likewise, the pics in said outlets of future DagoPM Giorgia Meloni make her look like Chelsea Clinton’s uglier secret sister, but I am here to tell you that she’s not all bad:

 

But of course, none of that is important.  Her government’s future policies are, though, and I’m predicting that the EU “government” is going to assume the full hair-on-fire position when the Italian Navy starts blockading the north coast of Africa to prevent more boatloads of “refugees” from reaching Italy.

One of Meloni’s biggest fans, incidentally, is HungoPM Viktor Orban, and given how much the Eurocrats hate him, that should be good enough for any of us.

Weimar Redux

Disaster, Mocking Furriners, Numbers & Statistics

Annnnnd the Germans are in deep shit:

According to release statistics from the German economic ministry, energy prices in August were more than double the same period last year, up 139%. The monthly increase was more than 20.4% higher than July. Additionally, producer prices for electricity rose 174.9% compared with August 2021 and by 26.4% in a single month.

This jaw-dropping increase in energy cost has resulted in German manufacturing prices for industrial goods jumping 7.9% in August alone, with a year-over-year increase in the cost to manufacture goods at 45.8%. That is the highest rate of price increase since Germany began recording their statistics in 1939.

It’s a pity they didn’t start in 1919, because then we could have compared today (and tomorrow, from the looks of things) to the numbers from the Weimar Republic.  Nonetheless, Germany’s in for a rough ride.

Couldn’t happen to a nicer bunch of watermelons.

Unbelievable

Crime, Media Assholes, Mocking Furriners

It is not often that I watch a documentary all the way through with my mouth open in amazement, but watching Gladbeck: The Hostage Crisis  on Netflix did that to me.

I don’t know how many times I burst out with “WTF?” and “I can’t believe this!” and similar;  and you will too.

I know we’ve come a long way since the late 1980s, but this documentary needs to be shown to police forces worldwide as a “How NOT To Handle A Hostage Situation” guideline.

The Jackals Of The Press don’t come off covered with glory either — although I know that any other country’s Press, under the same circumstances, would have behaved the same or worse.  (“And now, over to our reporter on the scene, Geraldo Rivera…” OMG, the mind boggles.)

And it ends terribly.

Hail To The Chief

Mocking Furriners, Politics

My name (Kim) is not actually a name;  it’s an old Anglo-Saxon title, meaning “chief” or “chieftain” — the ancient Brit tribes not caring whether their chief was a man or a woman.  It’s the reason that it can be given to either a boy or girl.

So the title for this post is to welcome the new BritPM, Liz Truss, to 10 Downing Street.  Let’s have a look at her:

Okay, so she seems to have the proper ummm attributes for a chief, if you get my drift, and apparently the BritCommies and the Euros think she’s The Next Hitler, so she can’t be all bad.

Let’s see how she does.

Most British Headline Ever

Mocking Furriners

I remember a story told to me once about a British bishop who was given a residence which happened to be in the middle of a golf course.  As it turned out, the property was unfenced, which ordinarily wouldn’t have been an issue, except that the bishop owned a black Labrador pup and club regulations banned all dogs from the course.

So, in the best British manner, they made the dog a member of the club, which resolved the issue.

I was reminded of this story when I saw this article, with the exquisite headline:

Guinness-guzzling Shetland pony BANNED from pub just one week after being made mayor

The story goes:

Council bosses have banned the Guinness-loving horse from The Drum Inn, in Cockington, after he was given his special title at a ceremony held on July 23.
The honour was granted in response to an online campaign to elect him to the post following the death of previous mayor Don Mills.
Despite his job title, Patrick, a Miniature Shetland, is now in trouble, as a planning enforcement officer told the pub they need planning permission for him to be allowed to graze in the pub garden.

This is easily the most British story ever, in that it combines love of animals, eccentricity and humorless, bullying officialdom all in a single tale.

The only thing that would make it a perfect story would be if Patrick were to bite the pissy little planning enforcement officer in the ass the next time he ventured into the pub.