Gun news from the future.

Following yet another massacre of children/shoppers/churchgoers/joggers/voters/sports fans/concert-goers/hikers/gallery-visitors/night-clubbers/subway-users/apartment-dwellers/farmers/hotel guests the National Rifle Association has condemned those who suggest that reducing the number of guns available in American society might reduce the number of gun deaths and instead called for the provision of more well-armed and trained officers in schools/shopping malls/places of worship/public parks/sports-stadia/polling places/National Parks/museums and art galleries/nightclubs/public transport/dense areas of residence/rural areas/hotels as a measure to return America to the “peaceful Norman Rockwell or Frank Capra country we all grew up in, where every small town family walked peacefully and safely past a SWAT team on the way to church or cheered on their local team under the watchful eyes of police snipers”.

Note: whilst wanting to make a satirical point, I’ve had to keep postponing posting this piece because I did not want to make light of a recent gun tragedy, and so had to find a gap in between shootings to do so. Which is a point in itself, I suppose.

Lobbying your TD.

Possibly worth a repost:

A few people have contacted me asking about how they should approach their TD over the current X Case legislation issue. I don’t claim to be any sort of expert but I thought I’d share a few thoughts.

1. Don’t bother lobbying non-government TDs. In this country, the government decides what legislation gets through the Oireachtas, so only government TDs have influence. I keep being amazed at some people who can’t seem to grasp that Fianna Fáil are no longer in government and so are now pointless at being angry at, at least, over this issue. It’s true, if the government decides to have a free vote on abortion legislation then every vote counts but the priority now is getting that legislation into the house with the support of a majority of govt TDs.

2. Identify your TD. Ideally go for the government TD who scraped into the last seat. You can see which one did from RTE’s election site here.

3. Write, don’t email. TDs are almost superstitious about voters who bother to write letters to them. The theory is that if you went to the trouble of writing a letter, buying stamps and posting it, you will probably go to the trouble of voting. They are afraid of people who definitely vote. Ever wonder why they don’t give a toss about student marches but get sweaty when a group of pensioners start mouthing off?

4. Assuming you do actually vote, tell them, and tell them to check the marked register (a list of people who actually vote that TDs have access to. People seem surprised, sometimes even outraged that such a thing exists. I don’t know why, as it makes TDs take actual voters seriously.) to see that you actually vote. Then remind them that this issue will not only affect how you vote, but that you will specifically transfer against govt TDs who do not deliver on this issue. Our voting system is almost unique in that it allows you, by denying a preference to a specific candidate, and transferring to every other candidate, to actually vote against someone. They get REALLY nervous when voters realise that.

An Occasional Guide to European Politics: The Eurosceptic who hates the modern world.

HE YEARNS FOR THE GOOD OLD DAYS.

HE YEARNS FOR THE GOOD OLD DAYS.

The truth is, if he spoke with footnotes we’d all be better off. “The EU,” he declares, normally  a few glasses of Port on board and holding court down the golf club “is obsessed with interfering in our lives. Telling us who we can employ (Women), unsound chaps (homosexuals), fellas who don’t get the culture (Muslims or non-whites) and on top of all that, then ties us up in Health and Safety nonsense (Not poisoning employees) and telling us how to run our businesses (not putting rat droppings in tins of baked beans) It’s a bloody outrage!”

The truth is, and he doesn’t even know it himself, his gripe isn’t with Europe. Europe has become the bête noire, the evil incarnation of all that he dreads, but the reality is that all those things would have come anyway.

He’s not allowed come back from a liquid lunch on a Friday afternoon, and grope the 19 year old office intern. He can’t write “No Darkies, Poofters or Paddies” on job advertisements either. And yes, he does have to treat women equally, and not sexually assault them at the Christmas party, letting them know that if they aren’t a bit friendlier they can clear their desks on Monday.

EU or no EU, no modern western country tolerates that, and whereas the EU may be ensuring that standard is the same across Europe, those standards aren’t just from Europe, they’re from modern society, and he hates that.

His problem is that he’s bought into some fantasy that it can all be reversed, that if those bastards in Brussels are sent packing he and his balding, sweating middle aged pals can all revert back to some sort of 1970s sitcom where they get to do a Benny Hill around the office and cheat their customers.

He genuinely believes that Britain outside the EU will be on an equal footing with the US, China, Brazil, and the remainder of the EU. Why? Because “we won the Battle of Britain and the 1966 World Cup, that’s why!” He’ll even throw a nuclear submarine into the mix, as if that matters. It certainly didn’t in Libya.

But you know what the strangest thing is? In France, he has a counterpart. She’s a hard left socialist who despises the EU for nearly the exact opposite reasons he does. Because it is based around a single market (Market begins with an M, as does Men!), and free trade, and yes, letting people make profit (Profit!) across borders, and lets heterosexual white men (or rapist aspirants, as she titles them) hold jobs at all. In short, she hates the EU because it recognises globalisation, and stops protectionism, and lets people travel and work and make money, and doesn’t demand the immediate nationalisation of, well, everything.

They’ll never meet each other, of course, and more’s the pity. Be fun locking them up in a lift together for a few hours, all the same.