The good people at Dow Jones’s Marketwatch recently read a blog of mine, and asked me to turn it into a article for them, which you can read here. Apparently, according to the comments, I’m both a communist and a tool of international bankers, which is nice. I’m just a bringer of people together. Enjoy.
A couple of things caught my eye today. Firstly, consider this story here, and consider how it is dealt with in the US here. Any mention of sex, and conservatives are all over it. Is it me, or do things in the US get politicised to a degree that they don’t get elsewhere?
Of course, the big story here this week is that pensioners maybe required to pay the correct level of tax. This has triggered the usual responses from jelly-like politicians who break into a cold sweat at anything to do with the (regular voting) pensioners? One politician, let’s call her Hilda Lookatme Please, put out the following tweet:
“# Revenue – Had to be shock for property developers who got letter from Revenue @ tax affairs. Should have been handled differently by Revenue”
How it should have been handled differently? Perhaps accompanying the letter with a nice cup of sweet tea and a chocolate digestive? Of course, she didn’t put out that tweet, because no one would dare question the idea of the Revenue going after any other section of society with the possible exception of the farmers, who also vote in solid numbers.
Why do we demand, on the one hand, that pensioners be treated with dignity and respect, and then treat them like bewildered numpties when they are required to obey the same law as everyone else? As for the “they’ve worked/paid taxes their whole life” argument, eh, haven’t we all? Pensioners should be treated with the exact same dignity and respect that we all deserve. After all, some of them are getting more in their pensions than they ever paid in tax, a point that is often forgotten.
Hopefully, he won’t be “ronery” in Hell. Yeah, I know, one is not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but this guy reduced his own people to eating tree bark. The world is one person lighter, and one person better off. Interestingly, his father, although pushing up daisies since 1994, is still president of North Korea, making him the world’s first zombie national leader. Then his son inherited the country, and now it looks like his son, Kim Jong Un, will be bequeathed an entire country. Ah. Communist nutters. Bless.
Can I draw readers attentions to two things, please, both of which involve my financial well being.
1. Don’t be afraid, whenever you visit, to click on a few ads (to your right, and scrolling down) when you’re visiting, as it provides a (very) modest revenue stream which helps pay for the upkeep of the blog.
2. If any of you are amongst the millions of people buying Kindles and other ereaders for Christmas, don’t forget you can treat yourself to my very competively priced political “dramedy” eNovel, The Ministry of Love, on Amazon. Details here. Every copy come with a free Lib Dem prime minister in it!
Uggh. I feel so dirty. I’ll be hawking 1982 Ford Capris next.
Thank you for your attention. Normal service resumes.
She's beautiful. Her life has to be perfect, right?
To look at her, you’d think she has it all. She is very beautiful, and there is not a single day that goes by that her image doesn’t appear in VIP or The Star or in an ad campaign. So why is she sitting at home alone on a Friday night with an M&S meal for one and a Downton Abbey marathon on the SkyPlus? She has no shortage of friends, and certainly no shortage of male admirers, indeed all she has to do is walk into any pub or nightclub in Ireland and they’re flocking. But that’s it. They do come flocking, and she can see it in their eyes. The look that recognises her as that girl from that poster/magazine/thing on TV3 and how I’d love to bang her and tell my mates about it. They see a commodity, a mobile bragging right, and she sees they see it too. Last time she gave into a moment of weakness, and woke up in bed with a guy who was pretty fit and seemed pretty grounded, until he tried to take a picture of her whilst she slept. What was even more disturbing was that he couldn’t even see what the problem was, and turned nasty. She’s had boyfriends as famous as her too, and with that came her lovelife as public property and discovering their casual attitude to infidelity on the front of a tabloid as she went shopping with her mother. Her older sister, who didn’t quite inherit the same beautiful gene, loves when she visits, and wants to talk about her glamorous life whilst she, the sister, only has this, pointing at her two kids thrashing the house in front of the telly whilst her boring but loving husband snores loudly in front of the fire after his steak and kidney pie. Her younger niece, approaching ten, is fascinated by her cool auntie and her beautiful photos in ALL the magazines which she cuts out and keeps in a scrapbook. The niece wants to be just like her when she grows up, which is funny, because she increasingly envies her sister and family and yes, even her boring but loving husband.
The more astute of you will have noticed that I have started running ads on the blog in an attempt to defer costs, so go ahead and have a browse at the fine goods and services being ballyhooed about on the far right column here. Click on the ads and I get thruppence halfpenny every quarter century. Everybody wins!
