sensational news from palestine

 

There was astonishment in the international community today when pop singer Jonah Lewie was elected president of Palestine, in delayed elections in the Gaza Strip and West Bank.

Mr Lewie was standing on a campaign platform of "stopping the cavalry."

He has vowed to stand for all the presidencies of the planet earth on the same platform.

"What the f---!" commented Ayatollah Ali Khameini of the Islamic Republic of Iran who for some years has been running Gaza through Iran's proxies in the Hamas movement.

The Ayatollah affirmed to reporters that while President of Palestine, Mr Lewie would also be permitted to stand for elections in Iran as long as he fulfilled certain basic requirements, ie possessing Iranian citizenship, converting to the peaceloving religion of Islam, and not having had his head cut off.

Any putative candidacy for Iranian elections would also depend on what mood the other Ayatollahs were in on election morning, the Ayatollah Khameini pointed out.

Cheeky chappie Russian President Vladimir Putin expressed some encouragement for President Lewie.

"He should stand in America," Mr Putin told reporters. "I think he might do very well. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink."

A reporter who asked Mr Putin whether Mr Lewie might fare even better in presidential elections in Russia, Ukraine, Georgia or Belarus was escorted from the press conference with suspected Covid 19 symptoms.

a load of old balzac

 

A Balzackian sort of day.

I've had more echecs than Rastignan on a losing streak.

Most of the afternoon I've been wandering up hills and down dales, addressing indifferent villages from the heights with the challenge: "Now it's just you and me."

Ho hum.

Back at the chateau I make a cup of tea and sit snarfling biscuits with dogs, and parrot and budgie.

A three months old copy of Brian Byrne's Bridge magazine is on the table.

I flick through it.

Not for the first time my eye falls on an article by top small town science boff Noel Clare entitled Never Mind The Bollocks, Here's The Science.

The article is an enthusiastic review of a book by one Luke O'Neill which is also called Never Mind The Bollocks, Here's The Science.

Ah.

Everybody thinks everybody else is a bollox.

I suppose we can't all be wrong.

Sigh.

Noel Clare's review seems to be in agreement with the book's writer that we should trust scientists and what he calls peer reviewed science on the great issues facing the human race.

I wonder how that analysis would transfer to the great peer reviewed scientists of the Soviet Union or Hitler's Germany or Mao's China.

Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?

Who peer reviews the peer reviewers?

That old gag.

In the stillness of my kitchen I think of today's breaking news story, largely unreported on major media outlets, that the Corona Virus was a flu virus engineered in a Chinese Communist Party run lab with funding from American health chief Anthony Fauci.

Fauci wished to circumvent American laws which made it illegal to create "Gain Of Function" viruses, ie to turn viruses that can only affect animals into viruses that can affect humans.

The lab was experimenting on animal flu viruses, re-engineering them to affect humans. The justification for this Frankensteinian nonsense being that at some stage a virus might evolve into a form that would affect humans anyway, so best be prepared by making one ourselves. All done by respected scientists with lashings of peer reviews to their names. What could possibly go wrong.

They gave Covid 19 to the world.

That's what went wrong.

Covid 19 was a flu virus as I said from the beginning. But a flu virust that could never have affected humanity until it was reverse engineered to do so in a Chinese Communist Party lab with funding from an American World Health Organisation mischief maker.

I still maintain it is absolutely pointless to wear those government mandated face masks. It is and was absolutely pointless to institute government mandated lockdowns on the economies of our countries. It is and was and always will be absolutely aberrant to imbibe Covid 19 vaccines made out of murdered babies.

Here is the news.

Covid 19 is a flu virus, a respiratory virus that, once the Chinese Communist Party, the World Health Organisation, and Anthony Fauci turned loose, was always going to go right through the herd no matter what we did. 

It has killed an awful lot of people, though not quite as many as officialdom pretends using inflated death tolls which were designed from the beginning to create panic, justify the national and interneational lock downs, and confer Soviet style power on unaccountable United Nations run institutions.

You couldn't make it up.

I would ask the great Noel Clare the following question.

What do we do when the scientists themselves are clearly and indupitably bolloxes?

I think he should be in a position to answer from experience.

subterranean corona virus blues

The Facebook website has announced that it will no longer censor people who use its social media platform to claim the Corona Virus may have originated in a laboratory in Wuhan China.

I fail to understand why any human being would have anything to do with a website that would dare to censor them on this matter in the first place.

Here is the news. Not only was the virus generated in the Wuhan lab, it was generated using funds from American health supremo Anthony Fauci, improperly and immorally sent to the Chinese to further research which had been made illegal in America. The research the Chinese were doing, involved taking non threatening Flu viruses from animals and re engineering them to affect humas. The justification for this was that they might one day find a way to prevent similar viruses affecting humans if by chance a virus managed to jump species on its own. And while they were playing this Frankensteinian game, they released the virus that has caused the last year of world wide shut downs. Did the Chinese release it on purpose to damage then American President Donald Trump? Neither I nor Mark Zuckerberg of Facebook, know the answer to that.

Lisa Shaw of the BBC has died. She was 44 years old, healthy, a mother of a seven year old child and a successful broadcaster. She's dead because two weeks ago she took the Astra Zeneca Corona Virus vaccine which she didn't need to take, which is made out of dead babies murdered through abortion, and which gives you blood clots and kills you.

Bishop John O'Connell of Trenton, New Jersey has been hospitalised with blood clots. He got the vaccine a few weeks ago.

The bard of Kilcullen Billy Redmond published a poem in two months ago in the Bridge magazine. The poem was a sort of ode to the Corona Virus vaccine entitled Vascillate Or Vaccinate. Its salient point was an expression of thanks to clinicians, health boards, the Deity and the vaccine itself for giving the poet peace of mind. Today word comes via Irish broadcaster Brian Byrne's website that Mr Redmond wishes to thank all who sympathised with him during his recent hospitalisation. Brian Byrne is also editor of the Bridge magazine so he would be aware of any issues arising from the sudden hospitalisation of the poet. But there is no word as to why Mr Redmond was hospitalised or as to whether his hospitalisation preceded his poem, or as to whether his hospitalisation was caused by the Corona Virus vaccine, or as to whether his hospitalisation was caused by the poem itself which certainly made me feel a bit sick. I think we should be told.

Sitting on a bench on Main Street Naas. A little old lady toddles up.

"Are you taking the vaccine James?"

"Not in this world possible."

"Why not?"

"Because it's made of babies murdered through abortion."

"Good man. I'm with you all the way."

She shows me an official looking tag hanging around her neck.

The tag reads: "I am unable to wear a face mask for medical reasons. It is illegal to ask me for more details." 

"Where did you get that tag Maisie?" I enquire.

She puts a finger to her lips and will divulge no further information.

Later in Naas Church another little old lady approaches and lays a hand on my shoulder.

"No vaccine James," she whispers.

"Amen Teresa," I answer.

"Any news?" enquires she.

"Maisie Baines has an official looking tag excluding her from face mask provisions," I tell her,

She holds up her own tag.

"They're very useful," she says.

"Maisie was like a secret agent," I muse, "she would under no circumstances tell me where she got hers."

"She got it from me," smiles Teresa,

I gasp at their effrontery.

The little old ladies are the last hope for humanity.

spiritual newness

 

Evening light and stillness.

Contemplating my excessive attachment to unimportant things.

A pile of small everyday objects on my kitchen table.

A wallet, car keys, some coins.

Think of all the time I waste worrying about these things.

Surely spiritual detachment is possible for me.

These things are not who I am.

Let it all go.

Place no importance on the objects.

The objects don't matter.

My identity doesn't have to be bound up with them.

Oh, think of the way I worry about them constantly.

Where are my car keys?

Where's my wallet?

Have I any change for the parking metre?

Where's my mobile phone?

There is a pulse in the universe.

No really.

Where is my mobile phone?

With a shock I realise I've lost the mobile phone.

I scan the table.

Not there among the objects towards which I've so lately achieved Nirvana like detachment.

I do a quick search around the house.

I check if it's in the car.

There is no sign of it.

"For ****'s sake," I scream detachedly. "I've lost my ****ing c--ting b-st-rding mobile phone."

when the revolution was expected in china

 

in the garden of my father

i first heard the gunshots from tiananmen square

i will never drink again this beauty

without hearing first the crying of the dying there

we will pray sometimes in the evenings

as the shadows lengthen into years

for there are prayers much softer than silence

and silences softer than tears

BLISS WAS IT IN THAT DAWN TO BE ALIVE

May month burnishing the heart land.

A striped thrush singing on a telephone wire.

He's a big fatty.

So joyful.

The air full of lilac scents.

White flowers blossoming all over.

A man's life what is it?

Where did that question come from?

It's from something.

One of the God of the Hebrews gags, I think.

Jeeves would know.

The two dogs are beside me at a picnic table, snarfling biscuits whenever I proffer them one.

Cecilia and XT are promenading on the lake with their seven baby swans.

A rather dashing looking Eastern European man and woman are watching the swans from the bank.

The human couple look like Manga characters. The man has a shock of dyed orange hair. The woman's hair is blue.

Together with the swans, they make a quaint picture.

"Ooh, ooh, ah."

It is the blue haired woman.

She is gesturing.

Her voice has alarm in it.

I stand up and walk over.

Four of the baby swans have been swept into the mill race stream.

The adult swans are in distress but helpless.

"Will you hold these," I say to the Manga characters, handing them my dog leads.

I plunge into the mill race.

A baby swan swims towards me.

"Come with me if you want to live," I tell the baby swan.

And somewhere the bloke from Terminator One is smiling.

I start bunging baby swans up over the small weir and back onto the lake.

As I'm about to leave the mill race, XT, the papa swan, comes crashing over the weir down beside me.

I decide not to linger over explanations about my attempts to help.

I leave XT to extricate himself which he does with no difficulty.

I think he knew I was helping.

God lets the creatures know things.

But romantic as I am about such notions, I wouldn't stay in a mill race with an adult male swan who might just might have got the wrong impression and thought I was a baddie.

Schwarzeneggar would be gentle by comparison.

As I stood on the bank dripping wet, there was great mutual congratulations with various onlookers.

Quietly to myself I addressed the God of the Hebrews: "This is what I want Lord. I want to do good for someone. Somewhere. Somehow."

Elle and Pavel returned my dogs.

A Turkish woman came running up and got my phone number.

Ah yes.

With all my issues, some might say neuroses, regarding Muslim clan gang harassment over the past decade or two, (big shout out to Amrhasser and all at the Alke Babish takeaway) I'm still divvying up my phone number at a moment's notice to any stray Muslim woman who passes within ten feet of me.

Hilarious no.

Truly I am a goon.

My Manga name is Goonor.

I come from the planet Goonatron.

I am the ruler of its largest city Goonopolis.

And my motto is the old Irish battle cry: "Suas do ghuna Una."