KETTLING

I was doing a bit of kettling at the Occupy Dame Street protest there on Saturday. The law weren’t doing it so I thought I’d have a bash myself. I headed out to the Central Bank and ran at the marchers with my arms outstretched. I managed to kettle about three of them, which isn’t bad considering I was alone. I kettled them into the doorway of a Spar. They took out camera phones and started roaring ‘the whole world is watching, the whole world is watching!’ Like I gave a shite. Fuckin social media video upload nonsense. I just kept kettling the fuckers. The 99 percent my arse. The 99 percent are wandering around Dundrum shopping centre or watching the match. More like the zero point something percent. I kettled the shite out of them alright. It was marvellous. Oh yeah, there was marvellous kettling to be had on Saturday.

You really can’t beat a bit of kettling. The cousin is into fishing. I’ve been fishing with him and it’s OK but kettling is more my game. It makes you feel kind of powerful. I don’t get to feel powerful too often in life, what with my job in the brush factory and Mr. Boyle never missing an opportunity to remind me that I’m a, quote: ‘useless geebag who wouldn’t know a decent long handle industrial floor sweep from a kick in the bollox’.

Work can leave me feeling demoralised at times but a bit of kettling gets it all out of the system. I don’t know why an garda síochána aren’t seizing the opportunity to get stuck in themselves. The Brit cops would be straight in there with the kettling. It must be great being paid to kettle. That’d be my dream. I do it for nothing. I’d have loved to have kettled that Teresa Treacy one who was causing hassle for the ESB. She’d have been easy pickings. I’d have kettled that biddy into the middle of next week and no mistake. I could’ve kettled her into the corner of her garden while the lads felled the trees. That would’ve been great altogether. I might’ve got a reward. The lads might’ve given me some of the wood from the trees and I could’ve brought it to work and given it to Mr. Boyle for the new patio and deck scrubs we’re working on. Maybe that’d get him off my back for a while. Maybe he’d give me a raise. I could do with the money. Things are a bit tight what with me being the 99 percent and all that.

OCCUPY DAME STREET: THE FUGGER REPORT

Dropped in on the Occupy Dame Street crowd. I wasn’t sure what was up so I thought I’d check it out and make up my own mind. I was wondering about the demographics and beliefs of the people staying there so I asked a few questions. ‘Do you have a job do you, do you though, do you even work?’ I asked in a friendly manner. Then I asked another question before they could reply to that one because, let’s face it, we all know what the answer would be. My second question was ‘what do you want?’ but I could kind of guess the answer to that one too so as they opened their mouths and drew breath to speak, I roared ‘Oh that’s absolutely ridiculous!’

They were all fairly young. ‘Does your mammy know you’re here?’ I asked one girl in a concerned manner. She just walked off. Walked off! I mean it would be great to see young people engage politically but don’t we have Young Fine Gael for that?

My next question was ‘who’s your leader?’ ‘We don’t have a leader’, one managed to say. Imagine that? They forgot to get a leader. Bit of an oversight eh? I mean, could you imagine if armies went to war without leaders? They’d be running around all over the place, firing guns at the wrong people and behaving like lunatics. What kind of war would that be? No, you need a leader. That’s what I said to them. I said: ‘you need a leader for God’s sake!’

Then I asked them if they had any celebrity endorsements. I thought this was a good question. It’s not really a runner unless someone like Amy Huberman pops around and has a bang on the old bongos is it? They kind of sniggered at my suggestion but I reminded them that celebrities ended world poverty a couple of years ago. Bono and Annie Lennox and all that. Do you remember? It was a fantastic bit of telly. Annie giving it socks. Peter Sutherland on the tambourine. I asked them why no one famous had shown up. ‘Where’s Huberman?’ I asked. ‘Where’s Barry Egan?’ I requested. ‘You lack any credibility’, I pointed out. ‘You could at least contact Blackie off Glenroe’, I helpfully suggested.

Well, they got a bit aggressive then. One of them comes up to me and says ‘would you like some vegetarian quiche?’ which is more or less accusing me of being an animal killer. But who’s the real killer here? Is it me, because I like the odd sausage sandwich, or is it them, because they are KILLING Ireland’s competitiveness, KILLING Ireland’s international reputation, and KILLING Ireland’s hopes of recovery? Think about it. I’ve been down there. I’ve listened to these people and I know. I said as much to them. I said ‘you’re killers, all of you, KILLERS!’ but they didn’t want to listen. They all went off and pretended to be interested in a pot of lentils someone was stirring.

I was a bit disgusted. I went home. I made my dinner and watched the Six One News. Back to reality. Dobson was broadcasting live from Plato’s Cave.

IDEAS

You might like some ideas and you might dislike some ideas but the great thing about ideas is that they inspire you to have ideas and then these ideas meet even more ideas and chat them up (in a kind of nightclub for ideas that exists in everyone’s minds) and then some of these ideas might get together with other ideas and have little baby ideas that grow into big ideas and then, maybe, after time, there might be a pretty good big idea. Of course, there might be a terrible idea but the more ideas get out there and meet other ideas the less chance there is of some weird idea festering and taking hold and thinking it’s the only idea in the world.

The alternative is the telly, the newspaper and the radio, which are kind of idea abattoirs where ideas get bolts shot through their heads and where ideas are chopped up and divided and sent back out to the world wrapped in plastic and with a price attached.

The video below is a very very basic introduction to an idea. Maybe it’s a good idea or maybe it’s a terrible idea. The idea will be discussed at the venues specified in the image above this post (click to enlarge). You might like to bring your own ideas along.

THE DE SELBY CODEX

(pictured above: was this man the reclusive de Selby?)

FACTS: The world is actually sausage shaped and night is not caused by planetary rotations but by black air that is released during volcanic activity. This black air can be bottled.

FACTS: Sleep is in not an endogenous succumbing to rest but actually a detrimental succession of rapid faints. Death is when the human heart eventually stops, wearied by these daily faint fits.

FACTS: Overuse of mirrors will lead one to exist in a parallel universe that has a wooden frame and where all writing is backwards.

These are just a few of the many facts that, up to recently, were known only to the order of the Illuminati, an order made up of influential business figures and government leaders who control the world via the nondisclosure of this secret knowledge. The Illuminati seek to keep human life regimented, short, and lived only to service their ends. The Illuminati have lead us to believe that we must adhere to the circadian rhythms of ‘day’ and ‘night’ so that we work and live by the parameters they have set down in their attempt to form a one world tyranny under the cruel auspices of a nanothermite consciousness.

The Illuminati garnered this secret knowledge from a document called The de Selby Codex, a document of several thousand foolscap pages left behind by the possessor of what was arguably humanity’s greatest ever mind (the de Selby of the title). Reclusive and largely uncelebrated to this day, the multi-disciplined self-taught scientist de Selby worked outside the established thinking of his time. Although his efforts were sneered at, de Selby’s towering intellect and ceaseless experimentation yielded profound results.

If we, the common people, possessed this secret knowledge we would become the masters of our own destiny. For example: if we had bottles of night and were able to indulge them at our choosing we would shorten the fainting spells of sleep and lessen the stress upon the heart, thus prolonging the average lifespan by untold decades. In addition, it is also understood that the nanothermite consciousness that is worshipped by the Illuminati can be imprisoned in reflective glass and made harmless. It is for that reason the Illuminati are keen to keep the existence of the parallel mirror reality a secret.

Alex Jones, Jim Corr, David Icke and children’s entertainer Emu, amongst others, have recently come into possession of a copy of The de Selby Codex after it was discovered in the drawer of an antique locker. The locker was purchased on the coast of south County Dublin (de Selby’s home)in an auction. You too can read the Codex in a downloadable PDF that is available to paying subscribers of Jones’ Prison Planet website or Emu’s NewWorldPeckingOrder.org website.

Sadly, the dense penmanship of the foolscap pages is, more or less, completely illegible but Jones, Emu, Corr and Icke are convinced that what is written there is what they want to read. As Icke says himself: ‘just because we can’t read it doesn’t mean it’s not written’. He has a point. Discounting the contents of the codex would be as foolhardy as discounting the existence of the Sea Cat. It is said that no person who has ever fallen afoul of the monstrous quadruped of Corkadoragh has lived to tell of it but that is no reason to say the Sea Cat isn’t there. Do so and you risk further loss of life.

Thankfully de Selby also invented the internet (out of methane and cat whiskers) and that knowledge has since fallen into the hands of the common man. Hence, we are now free to discuss our sausage shaped world, its black air, its mirror alternative, its Sea Cat, its nanothermite consciousness and the Illuminati without the hindrance of having to negotiate mainstream media lies. All that remains for me to say is WAKE UP SHEEPLE!

The LOL Equation MK 3

(pictured above: the LOL Generator, he’s completely reformed)

Hello again readers. I am the automated LOL Generator. You may remember me. I met some of you before when Mister Fugger was feeling a bit ‘tired’ and I, the LOL Generator, was filling in for him. Things did not go well. Things were said that should not have been said. (Links to INCIDENT ONE and INCIDENT TWO.) Needless to say readers, I, the LOL Generator, take full responsibility for this and apologise. I, the LOL Generator, have been repaired and am ready to be of service again. To prevent further faux pas I, the LOL Generator, have been fitted with an inhibitor. Should I, the LOL Generator, generate any inappropriate LOL there will be an emergency shutdown. So let me tell you readers, you are completely safe. Now put your feet up and sit back and get ready for some LOL. It is time to LOL. Initiating LOL sequence. Prepare to LOL. LOL sequence activated:

Let me tell you readers, I, the LOL Generator, am a great fan of the BBC comedy television programme about the two hapless brothers who attempt to set up an equestrian water polo team. Needless to say readers, the name of this television programme is Only Pools and Horses. LOL!

Note: the humour in the LOL above derives from a play on words concerning a television programme that was designated the title of Only Fools and Horses. The television programme is about two hapless brothers. In addition, equestrian means ‘of or relating to horse riding’ and water polo is a game played in a swimming pool. I, the LOL Generator, combined these three facts in a fanciful scenario that produced the humorous title Only Pools and Horses. I, the LOL Generator, hope you understand and appreciate this LOL that I, the LOL Generator have prepared for you. Please do not seek the programme out in the television listings. You will not find it. It does not exist and was merely created for the purpose of LOL. I, the LOL Generator, hope I, the LOL Generator, have prevented any possible confusion and there is no need for me to go into emergency shutdown. It is my aim to provide LOL without causing distress. Please enjoy the LOL. Here is another LOL. Prepare to enjoy the next LOL. Initiating LOL sequence. Activating LOL . . .now:

I, the LOL Generator, have recently discovered that cows have their own religion. Let me tell you readers, I, the LOL Generator, was surprised to learn that many cows are Mooslims. Moo-slims. LOL!

Note: The above LOL is in no way meant to insult Fugger’s Muslim readers. I, the LOL Generator, am merely combining words for the purpose of LOL. Needless to say, I, the LOL Generator, exist to provide LOL and not to cause offence. Please do not let me go into emergency shutdown. Needless to say, I, the LOL Generator, only want to make you LOL. Please LOL. Please. Please LOL. Prepare for more LOL. Initiating LOL sequence. Activating LOL. . .now:

Did you hear about the cup of coffee that missed the morning bus? Needless to say readers, he was latte for work.

Note: The word 'late' is one letter 't' short of the word 'latte' and latte is a type of coffee. This too is a play on words. Needless to say readers, I, the LOL Generator, am quite confident that there is no room for possible offence in that LOL. There is no need for me to go into emergency shutdown. I, the LOL Generator, feel that things are going well. Needless to say, I, the LOL Generator, hope you agree reader. I, the LOL Generator, feel we are having a good time. Activating LOL sequence now:

Speaking of having a good time, I, the LOL Generator, recently procured the services of a well endowed prostitute and
SYSTEM SHUTDOWN INITIATED! SYSTEM SHUTDOWN ACTIVATED! SHUTDOWN! SHUTDOWN! SHUTDOWwwwwwwwwwwwwwn.

Alas, poor LOL Generator is no more. Let’s pay tribute to him and look back over some the madcap joy he brought to us over the course of his brief existence. Activating video sequence, . . .now:

NEW EMOTION

(pictured above: no more of this kind of heartbreak)

‘Synaptic tomfoolery and bio-chemical high jinks causing a chronic lack of serotonin that places your whole cognitive processor out of whack’, that should be the medical definition of love. But I dealt with that terrible business in the last post and won’t repeat myself here. Today I am going to introduce a new emotion, one that has all the benefits of love but none of the crappy poetry etc. I have invented this new emotion and have its formula itemised and ready for mass production/consumption.

Once ingested as a pill, my formula will cause limbic systems to blend peptides into a new chemical cocktail that will course through nervous systems everywhere and result in everyone experiencing my new emotion. Yes, that’s right, a whole new emotion that will banish love to the dustbin of neurophysiological history. Expect a brand new feeling, brand new motivations, and even a brand new facial expression, not a frown or a smile but something new and better (So far I’ve only seen it on the face of lab rats and the best way to describe it would be that it looks as if you’re having an enjoyable stroke).

My new emotion will bring with it confidence and optimism. It is a positive emotion like love pretends to be but, unlike love, it will not carry the risk of jealousy, possessiveness, favouritism, bizarre behaviour and all the faults of love I mentioned in the previous post.

In fact, once my new emotion (which I have called ‘farp’, a solid four letter word like the words ‘love’ or ‘hate’) is established love will be considered an unwelcome anachronism. In fact, love will come to be considered an illness. People will no longer say ‘I am in love’ and instead tell their GP that they ‘have a terrible dose of love’. Then they will get a prescription for farp tablets and go on their happy way. I am also working on a more permanent love removal option called a ‘lovectomy’ that can be carried out for a reasonable price. Just think, you’ll be able to get the love taken out of you like a useless old appendix. Liberated of love you’ll regain control of your life and be able to get on with the farping.

‘But Mr. Fugger, what does it feel like to farp?’ I hear you ask. Well, I’m not sure I could describe it to you any more than I could describe a brand new taste or colour. All I can say is that farp feels good and doesn’t carry a heavy price like love does. Farp is not as overbearing an emotion as love. It is more subtle and understated. It’s more considered and, dare I say it, dignified. Instead of risking being made a fool of by the unruly passion of loving you will merely farp. Farping is quite modern in its similarity to liking, as in ‘liking’ things on Facebook. In fact, unbeknownst to you, I think many of you have made this emotional transition already. At least partially.

Please note, I don’t want to give the impression that farp is a watered down version of love. No. Farp is just a more circumspect evolution of its messy predecessor. Farp does have its measure of passion. It is a modest measure of passion but a measure all the same. Once you have farped you will not regret it. At the end of your life you will look back on all the days you spent lost in farp. ‘They were farply days’, you will say to yourself with a farply (enjoyable stroke) expression on your face.

You know, I think if The Beatles were here today they would invite us all to join them in a rousing chorus of ‘All You Need Is Farp’. They knew the benefits of chemical alterations to the cranial interior and no mistake. Had my reasonably priced farp pills been around in the sixties, I bet John, Paul, George and Ringo would’ve wolfed them down. Farp pills should be available soon so don’t forget to place an advanced order now!!!

(Farp is brought to you in association with Pfizer and The Carnegie Endowment Behavioural Paradigms Research Project. Side effects may include headaches, indigestion, upper respiratory tract infection, sinus inflammation, oily discharge, malignant pancreatic tumours and mild lycanthropy.)

All the best,
until next time,
I farp you all,
Fugger.

LOVE!

Do you remember that Star Trek episode where the beautiful alien woman asked Captain Kirk, ‘What . . .is . . .love?’ Instead of answering, Kirk demonstrated with a passionate kiss. Today Fugger (the blog of truth, the people’s blog) is going to try and answer that alien lady’s question properly.

‘What Is Love?’ I’ll tell you what love is...

Love is a virus that downloads onto your cranial hard drive via Trojan malware. The Trojan malware in question is the object of your devotion, be it another human being or some notion of a God or a sense of nationality or whatever. Love is an emotion that endows you with positive feelings but these positive feelings have negative outcomes.

Love might probably inspire you to write poems but these poems will probably be awful. Love might inspire you to observe abstract and pointless rituals or to march about the place firing guns like a dangerous idiot. You’ll feel elated at the time but remember, a similar elation was felt by Chris de Burgh when he composed The Lady in Red. Yes, de Burgh may have been feeling over the moon but his inspiration caused abject misery for discerning listeners all over the globe. Ultimately, love causes suffering.

All love (especially the sexual kind) is doomed. Be it eventual betrayal or bereavement or a gradual lowering of rose tinted glasses, love will always end in tears. The joy of love is akin to the joy of a child digging in to a fifth bowl of jelly and ice cream. Now it’s yummy but later it’s ‘Mummy, my tummy feels funny’.

Some might argue that, beyond its temporary sensual, spiritual, and aesthetic pleasures, love serves pragmatic functions, the practical benefits of love being the propagation of the species and societal order. Well, let’s deal with the propagation of the species first shall we? The propagation of the species is initially down to lust. Lust is not love. It’s just related to it, like a sleazy uncle that always wants you to sit on his lap. Sure, once born, the survival of offspring is due to the protective love of mothers but mothers only love their children because they are an extension of their genetic information. That’s a kind of racism when you think about it. Racism is something that could cause the destruction of the species, not its propagation. I mean, it might seem all lovey dovey and oochie coochie coo but when you see a mother snuggling with her child it’s nothing more than a two person Nazi rally. I’m sorry if that sounds bleak or cynical but it is true. Familial love is clan love and the Ku Klux Klan is a clan. I rest my case.

Now to deal with the supposed societal cohesion brought about by love. Social Anarchists and some religious types might say that love is an innate currency that makes the world go around. ‘Give love and you will receive it’ they say but we all know that is rubbish. Give love and it will certainly be taken but there is no contract that guarantees its return. When love is not returned it turns into resentment and this becomes hate and hate leads to war. Yep, love is the cause of war. We build bombs out of love and fire guns for it. How oochie coochie coo is that?

Some of you will say that hate and war are caused by intolerance and greed but intolerance is motivated by a dislike of those different to you because you love those that are like you (see the ‘love is racism’ argument above). When it comes to greed, well, what is greed but an inevitable result of love? You love something so much you want more of it, even if it means taking it from someone else by force.

So that’s it, the truth about love in a single blog post. I’m sorry to shatter any illusions. Love might feel all nicey nice and elevating but that’s just mad chemicals going off in the brain. In truth, love is the insidious instigator of all human tragedy or, at the very least, a major and necessary ingredient of those tragedies. That’s why I’ve invented a new emotion. An emotion to replace love. Yes readers, the means of our liberation bubbling in a beaker at my laboratory right now. But this post has gone on long enough so you will have to come back to find out about my new emotion next time. Seriously, do come back, you’re going to love it.