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Author: Kim du Toit
Deeds, Not Words, Paddy
This post is a continuation of an earlier one in which I talked about my dislike of the Irish as a nation.
Here’s the latest development from the Land of Blarney:
Huge crowds have staged anti-migrant protests in Ireland amid growing anger at the government over an increase in arrivals and asylum claims.
Ireland has seen anti-migrant anger growing in recent months, over the sheer number of asylum seekers being housed across the nation. Many of them are unable to get accommodation, forcing them to sleep in tents which has further incited anger.
And there are pictures:
Needless to say, there were also counter-protests, wherein the above marchers were called…
…yup, the fallback epithet so beloved of the Left when someone disagrees with them.
Here’s the thing. It’s all very well to have mass marches and so on; that’s a fine thing, even when the Left does it. But in the end those are just words.
So here’s a suggestion to the Irish people who are aggrieved (and justifiably so) at this welcoming of the unwelcome by their government.
Don’t burn police cars or smash windows. Do something positive.
Here’s what we Americans did when faced with a similar (although much larger-scale) action that we didn’t like. We went to the polls, and voted that government out of power, installing a new government would do what we wanted them to do.
I dare the Irish people to do the same at the new general election. If they do, well and good. If they don’t, I’m going to have to believe that more Irish want the country to be flooded with immigrants than don’t want it.
And when “Mahmood” and “Fatima” become the most popular baby names in Ireland, and the muezzin’s calls from the minaret drown out the sounds of the bells of St. Kilda, you’ll just have to fucking deal with it.
Otherwise, STFU.
Rough Justice
As Longtime Readers know, I’ve always been something of a cheerleader when it comes to citizens defending themselves against the predations of the lawless. And of course, the concept of “righteous shootings”, so often celebrated on these pages, is very much part of that cheerleading.
But it’s not just guns. Let’s go with this happy little tale from South Africa:
A raging mother beat a rapist to death with the help of an angry mob after finding her disabled daughter undressed at his house in South Africa.
The 44-year-old – who has been dubbed ‘warrior woman’ in her village – arrived home after shopping in Cacadu, Eastern Province, last month to find her 20-year-old girl missing.
Neighbors told her [the daughter] was last seen walking with a 65-year-old local man to his house and when she stormed in she found the pair in a state of undress on the bed.
A furious mob who had followed the woman – who cannot be named to protect the identity of the victim – also entered the suspect’s small holding and witnessed the scene.
And the good news:
The mother was arrested and charged with murder but has now been cleared following a public outcry.
I should bloody well hope so.
Here’s another story of a goblin getting what was coming to him:
Investigators say a possible intruder at home in Coweta County was mauled to death by the homeowner’s dogs. They say the resident returned home Friday morning and discovered a dead man on his front porch.
An autopsy confirmed the cause of death as a dog attack. Investigators say the evidence indicates the man was inside where the dogs were located at some point but died outside the home.
I’m assuming that the “evidence” included bits of the intruder found inside the home. And:
No charges are expected against the home owner.
Once again, I should bloody well hope not.
Here’s the not-so-good aftermath, however:
Authorities had seized the dogs as part of the investigation. It has not yet been determined what happens next for them.
I’m thinking they should each be given a tasty (animal, this time) bone to chew on as a reward — but that’s not the way to bet, because the dogs may well be slaughtered, just for doing their job.
And sadly, unlike in the earlier story, there’ll be no public outcry to save them. Here’s a pic of our two Heroes:
Imagine the look on the burglar’s face when these two puppies ran at him… and if that visual doesn’t put a smile on your face, I can’t help you.
Thoughts For The Upcoming Hallmark Holiday
…from the folks at Palmetto State Armory:
Tagline: “Roses Are Nice. Rifles Are Better.”
My sentiments exactly. Roses die, but a decent rifle is forever.
So for all you lucky guys out there whose wives enjoy shooting, here’s a thought (link in pic):
I’d have suggested one with rose-pink furniture, but PSA doesn’t sell them.
Back-Door Marketing
No, it has nothing to do with ass. Sorry. Before “back door” (like “adult”) became a porn industry expression, back-door marketing was a kind of marketing whereby you appealed to a consumer via unfamiliar (or apparently so) means — you know, get a free trip to Florida, free as long as you agree to listen to a 60-minute sales pitch for a time-share purchase. That’s about the best example I can give.
Here’s another: in my Inbox yesterday came this offer from American Airlines:
Note that the ticket may not be on American, but on their “partner” airline Qantarse, on which I have vowed never to fly, ever. (Details here and here, for Those Of Short Memory.)
In my case of course, not only have I blanked Qantarse but also the entire continent of Strylia because fukkem, the foul bureaucratic pricks. Even the presence of Beloved Grandchildren are insufficient incentives to get me to that poxy country, which should tell you everything.
And the next time I fly American — which is going to be a looooong time in the future — I’ll use up my paltry not-so-frequent flier miles instead of dollars because fukkem too.
Long Waits
Every so often I come across a meme, cartoon or expression which makes me chortle… except that it is extremely date- or time specific, and can only be posted at a certain time or on a specific date, e.g.
So I have a folder on my system called “Date Specific” which contains all of those, and inside are sub-folders with names like “Tax Day 04-15”, “National Ammo Day 11-19” and so on, in which I keep said objects.
So a couple days ago (May 5) Reader Steve D. (who is, I think, Hispanic) sent me an email which contained the following:
Bravo, Steve. It took me a minute, of course, because Sinko Da Mayo is amazingly not a date which resonates with me, particularly as it isn’t as relevant to me as dates such as a former South African client’s daughter’s birth date (don’t ask, I never even met her) or the day I first French-kissed a girl (December 17, 1968) and so on.
Anyway.
The only problem (for me, anyway) is that I have to keep a mental note of annual calendar dates so that I can post the appropriate entry — and given my advanced state of age-related mental diffusion, that’s becoming increasingly difficult.
Which sucks, because if I happen to miss the date and fail to post the thing, I have to wait a whole damn year before it becomes relevant again.
Here’s one I missed last July 4th, for instance:
Please forgive this addled old blogger…