a perfect day

 

Wandered into the Cafe Insomnia on Main Street Naas.

One of the rude manageresses is on duty but I decide to have a cup of tea anyway.

She serves me.

I go to sit down.

She follows me.

"I need to see your European Union Covid 19 Digital Certification," she says.

Her manner and presumption were somewhat reminiscent of an 1930s SS man in his trench coat stopping someone in the street and barking grimly: "Your papers please..."

I could imaginer her adding: "You vill obey my orders... You vill show your papers or vee vill take you outside and not serve you any more tea."

And so on.

I resist the urge to discuss the issues with Cafe Insomnia manageress.

If Ireland's gormless thug government is allowing rude young woman to behave like SS men towards respected citizens, I will not debate the matter with the perpetrators.

"I'm not going to have this conversation with you," I tell the girl.

"Then you can't stay in the cafe," she replies essessily.

"I'll take a refund for that," I tell her.

She gets me my money and I leave.

So the vaccines made out of aborted babies, the vaccines we were told would never be compulsory, are now compulsory.

They're not just murdering the unborn.

They're making us eat the remains.

On the car radio as I drive away from the cafe, I hear a perfectly timed news report stating that Judge Tony Hunt (who is in my assessment a mafia controlled proxy for the IRA) has just refused to jail two Kinahane gang molls who were money laundering for their Kinahane gang pimp, the pimp being the husband of one Moll and the boyfriend of the other.

Lovely lovely people.

The icing on the cake is that the Molls whom Hunt has released both live in Naas.

I park at the lake.

My mobile phone rings.

Farmer Jones greets me cheerily and says a propos of nothing at all: "I'm going to tell you something James. You should go into Burkes pharmacy and get the vaccine. No one would ever know."

I reply: "Do you not know me? For a start one of Kinneavey's molls works in Burkes pharmacy. And for a finish I will never under any circumstances take a vaccine made out of aborted babies which doesn't work and which is more of a danger to public health than what it's supposed to be protecting us from."

He says: "'Five million people can't be wrong, James."

I say: "Five million people were wrong in Nazi Germany. Five million people were wrong in Mao's China. Five million people were wrong in Stalin's Russia. Five million people were wrong in the Aztec empire run on ritual human sacrifice. Five million people were wrong when the Hindu empire started burning women alive on the funeral pyres of their deceased husbands. Five million people were wrong when the Hindus gave ritual human sacrifice a whirl too. Five million people were wrong in the Prophet Muhammed's Arabia. Five million people are wrong every five minutes in human history."

Presently I have delighted him long enough with my ongoing homage to the various times five million people have been wrong  about everything and he rings off.

I sit there musing.

A pang of regret hits me.

I'm regretting that I hadn't thought to say to Farmer Jones: "Eat shit, five million flies can't be wrong."

Ho hum.

What a perfect day.