Hello again readers (or should that be singular?). Sorry for the absence. I've just been flat out like a lizard drinkin' for several weeks. Many times recently I resolved to resume blogging. But other things came up. Today I saw that I hadn't done so for almost a month. Thought it was just a week!
Amazing how the older you get, the quicker time seems to pass. Why is that? I read somewhere that your neurotransmitters get all out of whack, causing a shift in time perception. But I don't buy that. I reckon there's a purely mathematical explanation. See, when you're a day old, one day is your whole life. When you're two days old, it's half your life, etc. By the time you're forty, then a day is around about one fifteen thousandth of your life. See what I mean?
Remember the immortal lines from that classic Seppolian soapie? "Like sands through the hourglass so are the days of our lives."
Piss off! That should have been: "Like droplets of water from a high pressure hose (which is increasing in pressure at an exponential rate) so are the days of our lives." But then, that's ungainly, and a tad depressing. The housewives watching at home wouldn't have liked that.
But back to the task of blogging: Here's a great article by Sophie Masson. She writes that "the US and Britain launched a series of air strikes on Baghdad on December 16, 1998. These were intended to be only of limited range - regime change had been rejected, as much as a full-scale war."
So they weren't serious, full-scale attacks. But surely many innocent lives were put at risk, if not snuffed out altogether. Yet the appeaseniks were mostly silent, and remained fully clothed the whole time. I don't recall so much as a righteous nipple or a brazen pube flashed in defiance back then.
Why the double standard? Well, it's obvious. Appeaseniks are just suckers for star-power. They don't understand or respect anything but pretty faces, pretty pictures, pretty sounds and pretty words. They were star-struck by Clinton, fellow traveller and celebrity prez. Just like metaphorical Monicas, they kneeled down before him and indulged his whim.
But Dubya? No way. No figurative fellatio for him! He has a moral code he's serious about. He has a spine, and a mind and a heart. To the po-mo appeaseniks that's just not sexy. And if he's not sexy, he must be evil.
Scary thing is these pinheads seem to be multiplying. Yep, there's a leftie born every minute.