laughing in the new year

There was another rain shower in Ireland today.
The government has named it Storm Frank.
Hilarious no.
No one can accuse them of being overly dramatic in their choice of names, but it's the novel practice of naming ever squall that gives me a chuckle.
If they're gonna give a name to every shower of rain in Ireland, they're gonna run short of names awful quick.
Still, I'd love if they called the next one something eclectic, say Storm Snurdlebaum.
I'd almost sign up to the myth of climate change if they did that.
One woman was interviewed on radio this afternoon crying out with strange high passion: "It's too much. We had this in 1995. Then in 2000. And now in 2015. We can't take this any more. I can hear the rain all night. I keep wondering will it destroy my house."
That's what the media and our government have done to people in order to convince them that climate change is real.
They've driven a peasantry that was barely sane to being with, out of their tiny cotton picking minds.
I would humbly contend that the government are doing this in order to justify the internationalisation of our sovereignty represented by their acquiescence to the delusional soviet style command and control policies of unelected or barely elected polit bureaus in the European Union and United Nations.
It's easier than actually thinking for yourself.
All the other lemmings are doing it so why can't we, eh Prime Minister.
Well folks you gorra larf.
In Ireland a group of government apparatchiks styling themselves the Irish Meteorological Service have announced that this is the wettest winter in Irish history.
Ah yes.
The wettest in our history.
They must have seasonally adjusted the figures from the Night Of The Big Wind in 1845 to discount that one.
In any case I can tell you that this winter the roads and most of the fields in County Kildare have not flooded at all.
Five years ago at this time of year many of the fields, several of our roads and half the Curragh plains were under water.
So the current Meteorological Service pronouncement is pure bollocksology.
It didn't stop Prime Minister Enda Kenny from touring an afflicted area in the west.
Crumbs.
Imagine if your house was flooded, or you had a media induced neurotic fear it would be flooded, and the next thing you saw was that vapid vacuous atheistic abortionist hair style of a man Enda Kenny drifting up the road in rubber boots, intoning grandly to the cameras: "Apres moi le deluge."
Focque.
It would be the last straw.
It would be for me anyway and I have a rubber boot fetish.
Prime Minister Enda Kenny was forced to start touring the puddle zones after our bankrupt newspaper groups began claiming there was public clamour for him to "express solidarity with people trapped by flooding."
That's why Ireland's newspaper groups are bankrupt by the way.
They think they've done something clever by inflicting on Prime Minister Enda Kenny and on the rest of us a half baked immitation of the year 2005 American media calls to President Bush to visit New Orleans at the time of Hurricane Katrina.
That's what they call journalism.
Treating Enda Kenny like the Bush whacker.
And likening a few Irish puddles to a hurricane which killed 1500 people.
And poor ould Enda Kenny bought it.
Let me make one thing clear.
Ireland's Independent Newspapers group are the most out of touch idiots in the history of idiocy.
They're still trading ironically enough only because our rubber booted Prime Minister Enda Kenny nationalised Allied Irish Bank, the bank to which they were refusing to rapay a billion dollar loan, and which was part owned by billionaire Lochlainn Quinn the brother of Enda Kenny's then Education Minister Ruairi Quinn, and having nationalised Allied Irish Bank with public borrowings, Enda Kenny then permitted Allied Irish Bank to cancel Independent Newspapers' billion dollar debts in perpetuity.
I kid you not.
Independent Newspapers is also still trading because Prime Minister Enda Kenny has chosen to take no action at all after a Judicial Tribunal deemed the white collar criminal proprietor of Independent Newspapers, one Denis O'Brien, (two Denis O'Briens would have been silly) guilty of bribing a former government Minister called Michael Lowry to award him billion dollar mobile phone service provision contracts dirt cheap.
And the peasants are worrying about climate change.
Meanwhile in the Daily Telegraph, a bankrupt British newspaper, a commentator remarked along the following lines: "It doesn't matter if climate change is real or not. One hundred and fifty countries have decided it is, and national policies are henceforth going to be shaped by that fact."
What a profoundly moral stance by the Telegraph.
Goodbye Telegraph.
You're nearly gone.
If you want to postpone the inevitable, I suggest you appoint Ruairi Quinn's brother to your Board of Management, and pray for rain.
Back in Ireland I listened to twenty minutes of verbiage about the weather on what passes for a news programme on our State run national broadcaster RTE this afternoon.
Right at the end of the programme, the presenter gave a single sentence report that ran: "In other news Saudi Arabia has cut off diplomatic relations with Iran."
Now that story is the biggest story on the planet earth today.
Ho hum.
A story that could mean a Muslim induced conflagration for all humanity, and it gets relegated to the tail end of RTE's rain dance of a news report.
Judgement thou hast fled to brutish beasts.
Here's a thought.
What if God was displeased with us for our culture of death, our abortions of unborn children, our euthanising of the elderly, our suicide assisting of teenagers, along with our fornications, our sorceries, and our sacrifices to satan?
What if God was letting us know that this cannot continue?
What on earth would the difference be between the apocalypse and what RTE calls climate change?
I'm just asking.