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He - President Andrew Jackson - always said that the people would stand by those who stand by them. Such is the covenant of democracies - and the fate of the democracy lies both in the hands of the people and the hands of the President.
Time magazine, December 2017.
.. .....for all our outward differences we in fact all share the same proud type, the most important office in a democracy, citizen. So that's what our democracy demands. It needs you.
Outgoing US President, Barack Obama,
Chicago, January 2017.
--------------------------------------
Eight years ago, here, we described Obama as the best speechifier of his generation;
how quickly his rhetoric soured, how quickly we realised that he was no orator,
that without his polished, autocued soundbites he was just a tongue-tied oaf,
resorting inevitably to the inane burblings of a late-night TV chat show host, a Letterman or Leno, trading meaningless cant, a clown for all seasons.
Last Tuesday night's performance,
before an adoring audience, was vintage Obama, seemingly principled and lyrical but on closer examination self-serving tripe, a ghastly, inaccurate, exaggerated, selective, contradictory and misleading psalm to himself.
A modest man would have blushed but Obama is a shameless hyperbolist;
there is no red line which cannot be undrawn,
no claim which cannot be unclaimed, no truth which cannot be untruthed.
He has ended torture, he says, and worked-on closing Gitmo. he hasn't ended torture and he hasn't closed Gitmo, he has, in fact, legalised the summary and unconstitutional murder of US citizens - and others - abroad but he makes these pious Gitmo claims quickly, amongst a catalogue of other bogus achievements and the hand-picked crowd goes wild in an ecstasy of righteous, ethical masturbation. Guardian hacks in the UK, the same vermin who rejoiced at the burning of the wheelchairs and the closing of the libraries, claimed to have wept at Obama's speechifying. Luvvies, too, are sobbing into their TwitterThings. The deranged, child-farming lunatic, Mia Farrow,
issuing a proclamation to the effect that Barry and Shell have created the real Camelot, there, in Washington, DC.
Well, spouse to both Mafia wife-beater Frankie Sinatra and the dwarf beast, Woody Allen,
Mad Mia should know a good Camelot when she hallucinates one.
I have yet to learn Mr Bruce Beardsteen's view on this glorious-tragical-comical-historical event but no doubt light entertainer,
A man in retarded adolescence
and his hero.
Take your pick.
Bruce, a man who considers himself not so much a pop singer as a Movement, will have profound thoughts to share with us, about his baby, and being in his car
and about his president.
He will share them at a concert near you,
at a hundred pounds a ticket.
Doesn't get more blue collar rock'n'roll than that.
This insufferable cunt, Springsteen;
where is punk 2 when you need it?
That post-election issue of Time, from which Obama seems to have taken inspiration, illustrated mr mongoose's truth that they - the hacks and the luvvies and the legislators - are all just talking to themselves, whistling in the dark, pissing in the wind. Hillary and Spunky Bill Clinton's defeat at the hands of the Trumpsters is described exhaustively, in Time, as a failure of an electorate poorly connected to feminism; as a glass-ceiling issue, describing the dreadful old bitch as an American Moses, an imperfect prophet, leading women to the edge of the Promised Land. Now it's up to another woman to enter it.
America, according to Time magazine, must have a woman president.
Now, given that only the truly rotten can ever come within a mile of nomination for that office, what Time is saying is that the system must be influenced, even corruptly, as it was in Clinton's case, in order that a rotten woman, instead of a rotten man be elected.
The voters must be educated, must be alerted to the fact that for Ruin to prosper it must appear to be a pestilence truly committed to equality of opportunity, right? Doesn't it? Isn't that what it means? For surely to God no-one in their right mind would find Virtue or Competence in Hillary Clinton?
Hillary, though, claims Time, couldn't do right for doing wrong; she was too smart, too experienced, too well briefed for dumb, sexist voters, and that's why she lost to a redneck fathead. What a shame that sexist America isn't more like Pakistan or India, Time laments, where women members of political dynasties were a shoo-in to presidencies and prime ministerships; why can't American political dynasties flourish similarly, bleated the Clinton camp mourners, like good democrats.
We want our own royal families, people better than us, just because, well, because they stole more, and because they say so.
Steal a little and they throw you in jail, steal a lot and they make you a King.
Or a presidential candidate.
In the entire post-election issue of Time there was no mention of voters being suspicious of a marriage which existed for no other apparent reason than to neutralise Spunky Bill's sexual predations, to homogenise sexual abuse into a palatable mix of a good if naughty ole boy, stood-by, loved and forgiven by his family,
even though the whole nightmare nuptial trip remained extant only to secure Hillary's political career.
There was no mention of vast sums of money being funnelled into both the Clintons' Foundation and their election fund. Hillary didn't lose, according to Time, because of her extraordinary and illegal personal IT server and her disappearing of thirty thousand e-mails - Richard Nixon, we must remember, was indicted over a missing seventeen and a half minutes of recording tape - Hillary didn't lose because of her mishandling of Libya or the preventable murder of the US ambassador nor because of her bizarre relationship with the wife of serial sex offender, Anthony Wiener and definitely not because of her watertight and highly-lucrative connections to Wall Street.
No, to the ordinary voter, none of this stuff was important enough to make them vote for Trump instead of for the Clintons, they only did it and she only lost because she is a woman. That's what they were saying to each other on election night and they are still saying it.
Worse, they - at all levels of influence and none, including Obama - are all still hoping to see Hillary and Spunky Bill in the White House.
Unseating Trump would not be enough, his VeeP, Pence, would have to go, also. Nothing would do, short of the Clintons retrospectively being awarded the White House by default. This anti-democratic movement is echoed, here, in what still calls itself the Labour Party, utterly resistant to the will of its members and their choice of leader, unmoved by the democratic will of both party and nation, in the matter of Brexit.
Speaking to a partisan audience at a stage-managed event in his home town, Obama perfectly articulated the American Nightmare; always a bogus illusion foisted by elites - Obama's much referenced Founding Fathers - upon greedy, gullible morons, the US political system has yet to produce a president of any merit and it never will, now; crooks and cheats and worse, all of them, and when one of them shows a hint of Decency, say, Jimmy Carter, then he is rubbished by his colleagues, knee-capped by the press and a proper dummy installed, in that case the fuckwit, Reagan, and his star-gazing Mummy-Wife, Nancy.
Imagine, Jimmy Carter in the White House, and four Manhattan skyscrapers fall inexplicably to the ground in their own footprints, there's a ban on US air travel, apart from Saudi Arabians fleeing homeward; imagine that relatives of the dead are beaten by lawnforcement for disputing the facts; imagine that the very steel from the most blatantly deceptive building collap-se is immediately shipped to India for re-cycling; imagine that the Constitution is ripped-up and the state empowered to read your every written word, listen to your every word; imagine that Torture and Sadism are sanctified at home and abroad by the White House; they'd have ripped poor Jimmy's guts out.
George Dubya Chimp, however, stupid and compliant as a penniless, drunken whore, was licensed to commit kleptomaniacal genocide and nobody said Boo!
It is this failure to control, to properly orchestrate the illusion of democracy which Trump personifies, the personification, in millions, of the Can't-Fool-All-Of-The-People-All-Of-The-Time dictum which saw him elected, and which sees so many attempts to unseat him before he gets into the saddle.
Obama's not very subtle plea for people to stand-up and participate was a sneaky call to civil unrest, one which, under his stewardship, would have seen its author under arrest.
Obama, interestingly, has never, to my knowledge, since being elected, voiced a whisper of criticism of George Dubya, a man as rotten as can be, yet whilst loyal to the Presidential Fellowship of Thieves Obama unprecedentedly - and we must presume with the permission of his masters - used his office of President to enthusiastically join in the partisan campaign for his successor.
To those watching, bemused,
Obama's audience
appeared either to be on HappyPills or comprising the very best from CyberCorp's SynthCitizen range, cheering and stomping at every successive, dishonesty.
I confess to never having completed George Orwell's 1984 but it seemed that Obama has developed a NewSpeak of his own, deploying blatant lies as Truths, totally inverting disgusting reality into cheerworthy platitude;
that he has accomplished this on the back of his notional blackness shows all the more vividly the voluntary, stupid complicity of an audience reared on Hollywood's presentation of a mythical America.
I dunno about you - just to digress for a minute - but if I was on an aircraft hijacked by a handful of screeching, hysterical Muslim nancyboys, armed only with tiny little blades, I'd fucking kill the bastards. Even if they held Kalashnikovs,
I would stab the fuckers in the eye with anything that came to hand - pen, spoon, rolled-up magazine, anything; you can make a sharp, eye-penetrating splinter from a plastic coffee cup - I'd grab them by the bollocks and twist as hard as I could, that'd make them cry-out and pray to Allah in their hour of need, alright, peace and blessings be upon His name, as we should now all say, lest we offend those who want to kill us, out of respect; I'd kick them, punch them, strangle them, I'd bite their fucking faces off. But no, even though they outnumbered the unarmed arabs by ten or twenty or thirty to one, Septermber 11's Americans sat still, doing as they were told, probably expecting Superman to fly alongside, or Bruce Willis to emerge, bloody and in his vest, from the baggage hold; tossers, too stupid even to fight for their lives, too cowed; too fucking special; American exceptionalism, another chorus from the Obama songbook of criminal fraud.
The great confection of Americanism to which Obama repeatedly alluded the other night was not Nobility, there was nothing noble about drunken Paddy bastards dressed-up like cavalry and mutilating native, continental indigents at Wounded Knee;
nothing noble about refugee Scotsmen founding the Ku Klux Clan and burning negroes alive, nothing noble about Haliburton mercenaries and psychobastard crew-cut MommasBoy GIs looting and gang-raping their way through Iraq and Afghanistan and there is definitely nothing noble or self-sacrificial about militarised lawnforcement goons shooting black people like clay pigeons. What - in relation to Americanism - Obama was actually referring to was the cruel utility of overwhelming might and technology, to the plantation's whip-wielding overseer, to the Gatling gun and the atom bomb, to napalm and Agent Orange, to that towering American virtue - vicious technology applied to defenceless populations.
The great Gangster spirit of Cowardice and Greed, that's America.
Home of Continental Organised Crime.
Institutionalised Felony,
such a beautiful American tradition.
Every matter to which he had turned his attention had been improved by his thoughtful consideration.
My fellow motherfuckers.
When I assumed my great office I speechified like a demented sonofabitch that the authors of the financial crisis would be hunted down and punished.
Now, after eight years, I am happy to report that up to and as many as precisely no bankers or financiers or mortgage carpetbaggers have been arrested, prosecuted or jailed.
As many as precisely none.
Not one.
That ain't the way to keep folks working. And I'm proud that my administration helped keep so many, well, kept all the bankers and financiers and mortgage carpet-baggers in work.
And as a matter of fact, as a part of moving forward, I have managed to employ as many members of Goldman Sachs in the White House as they have told me to.
Yessir, n'deed I have.
Same as the professional torturers.
I remember, right here, in mr ishmael's commentaries, vowing to track down them torturing folks and punish them. But instead I chose to be more progressive, make torture part of our arsenal against bad folks and keep them torturers hard at work, in jobs, and payin' taxes.
How many torturers did we prosecute and punish?
That's right, up to and including and as many as precisely none.
The economy is cured, fixed, sorted, even though America is indebted to a degree almost unimaginable, a sum which can never, ever, ever be paid-off but only written-off, by a war or some other act of selfless virtue;
jobs are abundant, even though voters in America's industrial heartland think differently - and they ought to know - so differently that they voted for anyone bar the Democrats whom they supported for generations, a bit like what happened to Labour, in Scotland, a parliamentary party grown fat on the strife of the poor had it's arse kicked, and one hopes that the contusions prove fatal.
The US now has an NHS, even though it doesn't;
Peace reigns, even though it doesn't;
Obama had reined-in the military-industrial complex, even though it is stronger now than under George Dubya Chimp, is more costly; Uncle Sam still has eight hundred military bases abroad and spreading to places from which it has long been absent, armies posted to Australia and the Baltic states, fleets cruising in the South China Sea;
US fleets and forces intimidate almost everyone in the world, they provoke and perpetuate tensions;
her drones assasinate illegally and at will,
her recent Secretary of State provoked conflicts at the whim of her Arab paymasters.
To Obama and his handlers War truly is Peace.
Thanks to capitalist US adventurism, shambolic millions of migrants are besieging European nation states, making chaos of national public services budgets and among their ranks are many made sui/homicidal by Uncle Sam slaughtering their infants.
The world, in short, and the US particularly, are in a better place, thanks to himself.
You have to laugh, because if you cried, you know you'd fill a lake with tears.
My fellow motherfuckers.
One of the things I have accomplished with your help is the end of war.
And that is why the American arms industry grows almost exponentially, year on year.
The US can proudly say that it is the world's biggest arms producer.
And that its Commander-in-Chief, myself, has brokered more arms sales - and to more degenerate, criminal regimes - than any other president in history.
My stewardship of world peace has resulted in forty billions of dollars worth of weapons sales in 2016 alone.
And it just doesn't get more peaceful than that.
Even that great American institution, Lockheed DeathCorp,
is on record as saying
that thanks to your C|ommander-in-Chief,
the Middle East is seen,
more and more,
as what its sales teams call
an area of outstanding growth.
And that's not all.
These sales are led by those good folks at the Pentagon
Those great patriots.
Who will,
there is no doubt,
in future,
take up responsible positions
in that same arms industry.
And who,
on behalf of those client states,
- say, Saudi Arabia and Iraq - decide exactly what arms they need to buy, going forward.
We tell 'em what they need in order to kill or torture folks, which folks they need to kill or torture, and then they pay us for it.
Was business ever any better than that?
And to those great ISIS libertarians and Al-Kay remnants,
fighting Russian tyranny in Syria, we sell them arms, too.
Y'know, we can't expect our allies in ISIS to make progress just by chopping folks' heads off, or burning them alive in cages.
We will sell the instrumentation of Death to anyone.
Just so long as they got money.
And if they ain't got any money
we give 'em credit.
Like we did with the Limeys.
When they were fighting Hitler
and what they called fascism.
Loaned 'em three, nearly four billion,
to buy shit from us with.
Okay, it meant that after the war they had a decade or so of Austerity.
But that's just how business is.
You haveta fuck everybody up the ass.
And do it hard..
Even if, without them, the Limeys,
we might all be speaking Kraut, now, in America.
And my folks'd definitely be in the gas ovens.
Betcha sweet ass.
Schwarzers, Hermann didn't like schwarzers.
Worse'n Jews, is what they thought.
But that's no reason them Limeys deserve special treatment.
Just for standing up to bad shit. When everyone else just bent over to Hermann's racist dick.
Is it?
I don't see what's so special about that.
They paid it all off, though, the Limeys,
a hundred billion bucks in today's money.
Done it in 2006.
That guy, Snotty, the one from off the Northern Reservation,
he did it.
And that's why we call it a special relationship.
We bled Britain dry while giving shitloadsa dollars to the post-war Hermanns.
And that's why, when they wanna disobey us, then I, as your Commander-in-Chief, had to kick their asses to the back of the line. Save the world from tyranny or not.
My fellow motherfuckers.
That great experiment in democracy.
Which we call Guantanamo Bay.
Is.
Thanks to the efforts of my administration.
Still in business.
Mistreating nigger folks.
Now, they may or may not be guilty of something.
They was, after all, most of 'em, anyway,
just pulled off the streets of Islamabad or some shithole like that.
And sold by the kilo to the brave men and women of the CIA.
Fifty thousand dollars for a terrorist is a lotta money to some nigger in a dress and I guess they just grabbed some other nigger, anyone who took their fancy and said, Hey, way to go, this one's a terrorist, and this one, and this one over here.
That'll be a hundred and fifty thousand bucks please, CIA effendi.
And so, my fellow motherfuckers.
It only seems right.
That we torture their asses,
these people that we bought fair'n'square, just like our ancestors bought the slaves offa their neighbours.
'N' find out if they are guilty of something.
My National Security advisers tell me that if you torture folks long enough, they'll confess to almost anything.
That they'll even make shit up.
Shit that nobody ever done, never mind them doin' it.
Shit that never even happened.
And confess to it.
So, as part of my legacy, to you, the American people.
Part of my legacy is, well, I don't much like to refer to them Limey sonsabitches these days.
Not after they disobeyed Uncle Sam, like that.
Over Europe.
But there was this Limey poet.
And if I can paraphrase his ass,
as part of my legacy,
I will remind you that,
if I should die
think only this of me:
that there is some corner of a foreign field
that is forever Torture.
And when people say they don't want no more immigrants,
they should remember,
as I do,
that without the Poles and the Krauts and the Wops and the Paddies
coming over here
we woodena been able to kill most of the indigenous people,
burn their villages, baby-rape them
and herd the survivors into concentration camps,
where, my fellow motherfuckers,
they remain to this day,
dejected and dispirited,
just like we'd ethnic cleansed them or something,
just to make way for greedy immigrants,
too fucked-up to make a go of things back in they own countries.
'Swhat made America great.
Exceptional.
And just lemme speak to my record on lawnorder, jurisprudence and due process and why we murderered Osama bin Laden - or some nigger, anyways, and his family - in cold blood and dumped the bodies in the sea when we could've easily captured him and brought him back here to stand trial. Well, folks, that's a simple one. See, when a great crime is committed against America, say, when a president is assassinated or some buildings blown up then what you gotta do is find a patsy and then kill him quickly, just in case, at his trial, he says things about folks who benefited from the crime, things that nobody oughta hear about. And so, in the finest traditions of American justice, the man who we said was responsible for 9/11, or a man, at least, was shot dead and silenced.
Job done, as the Limeys say, case closed. It really was a proper example of American justice working just fine. No need to thank me, I was just doing my job, murdering anyone I felt like and perverting the course of justice.
My fellow motherfuckers, you wouild expect nothing less from me.
Just as I never finished 1984, I actually know bugger-all about Pavlov and his poor dogs, except that they were tortured into responding in certain ways to certain stimuli,
like Obama's stooges do although the Chicagoans do it to much greater effect; the Pavlov dogs remained dogs, illustrative of nothing more than their programmability, anybody can train a dog, anybody but me, I tend to have arguments, discussions, really, with Harris, in which I articulate his points of view and which,
even so, he more often than not wins.
Obama's dogs, however,
screened around the world, were, as a laughter track prompts otherwise undeserved laughter, intended to prove the universal truth of his remarks; they would have cheered had he been speaking out of his arse literally as well as figuratively, they were responding to a kind of psychic cattle prod, a crowd-taser, they only had to hear the words America or Michelle or Chicago or Liberty or Freedom or EllGeeBeeTee and they would erupt, cheering and clapping and crying as TeeVee anchors and hacks all around the world rejoiced, insisting to viewers that the few thousands in the Chicago hall cheered for and on behalf of the whole wide world a-watching. How could we betray such Goodness, by electing such Evil? It's not too late, we can stay in Europe and we can overthrow Trump.
I just heard some wretched, has-been NewLabour shit on This Week, making that very point
Chris Leslie, MP,
member of the Govament of National Unity and
a NewLabour cyborg.
It's not because he's black, because that would be racist and I am in no way racist, except when it comes to bombing niggers and their children, and that dosn't really qualify as racism, but President Obama's gabshitery is truer, more meaningful than Donald Trump's gabshitery.
But my fellow motherfuckers, no matter how hard we've all worked together for the bankers, we should ree-dooce the influence of money in politics. I mean, it was fine when me and my fellow presidents were all on the make, sellin' our asses to Mammon but now that the president-elect shits golden hundred dollar turds, we gotta review our priorities; leastways until we get rid of him.
Don't let me be misunderstood.
That small fortune that President and Mrs Clinton accrued after leaving office -and in her case while she was still very much in office, as it doesn't say in the thirty thousand emails which she didn't destroy and even if they did say that, what does it matter? -
that was good, decent crooked money, corruptly given and received, in fair exchange for illegal actions, in and out of federal office and it is perfectly proper and constitutional that once they had taken out what they needed for themselves, they spent some of that money on buying the White House on behalf of all the foreign folks who had given them the money in the first place. I mean, no good American patriot thinks that you can be poor and get into the White House, do they? That ain't what the American Dream is all about. It's all about money; stealin' it or takin' it as a bribe; protection money or political donation, paid to gangster or politician, ain't no difference.
What nobler action can there be,
what higher, more American purpose can there be
than gaining public office and then selling favours to criminals?
So, money, it is a great thing, my fellow motherfuckers, for you to lose, as your jobs go overseas, and your living costs rise and your pensions are quite properly stolen by my employers; it is a great thing for me to make, in return for favours, well, I prefer to call it obedience shown to rich folks and it is a fine, fine thing for Hillary Trousers - and Spunky Bill, too - to accept bribes from crooks and tyrants and child molesters.
But for the President-elect to have money from none of those fine sources is just one more reason for you to take the law into your own hands, I mean to engage with politics like you never have before, during those years you have been betrayed by proper crooks, like me.
It just remains for me to congratulate myself on my wife
and the children,
as politicians always do;
their children and wives are so wonderful
that how can the politician, himself,
be anything less than wonderful?
That was President Obama there, in Chicago, yes, I know, viewers, fucking awful. And we were gonna go to Jayne Tits, who's there for us, in the hall, talking to a tearful Obama supporter. But it was all:
Jayne Tits: Tell me, MaryJo, was that speech wonderful for you?
MaryJo: Yes, it sure was wonderful.
Jayn Tits: And why was it so wonderful?
MaryJo: Because it just was. It was just so wonderful.
Jayne Tits: Yes, he truly is wonderful, President Obama.
MaryJo: Yes Ma'am, he sho is. He sho is just, I dunno, wonderful.
Jayne Tits: And President-elect Trump, I don't suppose you think he's very wonderful, do you?
MaryJo: No Ma'am, I sho don't think he's too wonderful at all, I sho don't.
It went on like that for about ten fucking minutes, look you, isn't it, make your fucking toes curl it would. I said to them, I said I wasn't gonna be in any news show that broadcast crap like that, look you, isn't it. I mean, there is a fucking limit, even for me, and I've played the piano for Tom Fucking Jones, look you. Not too many newscasters can say that, not at the PBC. Least he's not a paedo, Jonesy, pity he can't sing, though, just yellin' and fuckin' bawling, 'swhat he does, shame he couldn't lower his voice to a scream, if you ask me.
So, anyway, in a break with PBC tradition we thought we'd bring you this, from my colleague at ChannelFour's News and Indignation Show, Mr Jon Sox. Jon, what's your take on all this, isn't it, look you, this Obama business, you're a bit broken-hearted, I understand.........? Back on the wacky baccy, isn't it/? Don't mind a toke, myself, got to have something to get me through all this bollocks I have to read out. I'll pop round to your studio, then, eh?
Yeah, man, like whatever.
One newscaster for all and all newscasters for one newscaster.
If it's cool with you, it's cool with me.
I'm just so fucked-up, man, with Trump winning and Obama going, man; it's too much heavy shit.
CHANNEL FOUR NEWS AND INDIGNATION.
noun: learned helplessness
a condition in which a person suffers from a sense of powerlessness, arising from a traumatic event or persistent failure to succeed. It is thought to be one of the underlying causes of depression
GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY ALLEPO.
Good evening, this is Channel Four News and Indignation, with me, Jon Sox,
the caring, caring face of madeupnewsandfilth4caring people.
And tonight we report, as we do every night, in terms of helpless, ballsaching despair, from Aleppo, where the ceasefire, when there is one, is rubbish; where the non-ceasefire is rubbish, too;
where John NewFace,
US Seckaterry of State,
and all other decent, modest people,
like me,
say that whatever they do the Russians are bastards,
they're bastards and war criminals.
And lessfaceit, attacking ISIL and al Ki-wossaname, is just not what we are supposed to be doing is it?
What we should be doing is something which nobody knows what it is.
Just that we should be doing it.
Y'know, as that ishmael bloke says, at the top of the page: intelligence is knowing what to do when you don't know what to do.
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