Is No Place Like Home!!

Si. Is Manuel!! (Is not my hand though)

The Christmas is approaching nearby, and is time for everyone who have a home to go to to go there, escept for the homeless, who probly go to a park or a shelter or the Nou Camp (I make no comment this week about the disgraceful ridiculous performance last week of the "Catalan" team of Argentineans, Africans and other assorted foreingers who should all also be sent home to where they come from since they do nothing to contribute to Spanish culture and unity). As you are probly already knowing, since I am retired and living in the Canarias, going home is a bit of an underclimax, since I am already there. Therefore, I decide instead to go to Spain to visit my brother Hornolo, since because he is my only remaining relative who is alive.

I am not sure what Hornolo will have in store for us for the Christmas, since his traditions are much diverge from my own. When we grow up together of course, we always spend the Christmas at Mass and do the usual eschange of gifts and presents, but after he leave home he change his habits and prefer to spend the holidays with unfamiliar ladies and at the bottom of a whiskey bottle. Of course, I am no stranger to the joys of the grape and the grain: I always take a good portion of Cardenal Mendoza in my mouth every St. Stephen's Day and swirl it around for a good half a minute before spitting it out into the gutter for the poor to enjoy. But I suspect that Hornolo have develop a much higher level of tolerance for the pleasures of the flesh than I. He even let people hug him!!

I shall report back after the festivities, if I am still alive, and tell you all what novel esperiences I have, even though, as you know, I am no fan of novelty or of esperiences in general. They usually lead to bad ideas, unless the esperience has been a negative one, of course, in which case it put people off further esperimentation, which is always a good thing, I think.

Before I go, then, all that remain is for me to post an envelope of anthrax to Alex Ferguson for Christmas (is a special virus that I have to buy on the Internet because he would not sell me his), and also to say thank you to all of the very important and nice friends who have comment over the past year at my blog and who have taken the trouble to read it. I am especial grateful to Gorilla Bananas, to Conan Drumm, to Daphne, to the Other Manuel, to Mrs. Pouncer, to Dr. Maroon, to Gan, and to the Hangle Queen (I apologise if I miff anyone), who make the effort to comment when they are able and who say very enlightening and informed and pious things that have enrich my year estremely. I am loving you all in a manly, holy way, the way Jesus love the disciples. YOU are my home.

I wish you all Feliz Navidad y una Feliz Año Nuevo, and I shall see you all in the future!

Muchos Besos

Manuel

Those Crazy Greeks!!

"I Will Just Finish This Drink, and then We Will Have the Riot!"

I have been watch with bemused contempt the rubbish rioting of the idiot Greeks over the past few days on the television and shaking my head wisely to myself, saying, "this would not have happened in Plato's day." But of course, it would, because the Greeks have never had the proper religion that would have prevented all this malarkey. Instead of religion they had stupid philosophy, which I can make neither head nor tale of, and I suspect neither could the Greeks, which is why they riot.

Like any half-formed civilization, they did of course try to have the religion, but they end up not with proper Catholicism but instead with a cut-price version of Christianity which they call the Geek Orthodox, led by a man with a beard called the Primark, who look like Santa Claus with a cake on his head. The Geek Orthodox have some strange beliefs, such as that Jesus spoke Greek, when we all know that he spoke Spanish, which we know because the Bible is written in Spanish, and also that the Sabbath is on the first Wednesday in every month with a "P" in it. Also they believe that Jesus was a spaceman and that monkeys can fly airplanes.

But to return to my main point, the reason why the Greks is rioting is because of the philosophy and the lack of Catholicism. For proof of this, you only need to go back a few years to look at the case of Socrates, who went around the place in his shorts and smoking cigarettes while undermining discipline and sowing seeds of doubt in people's heads by asking them such questions as "How do you know I am here?" and "If a dog scream in an empty room, can anyone hear themselves think?" and "Who left that window open?" (the same question ask by John F. kennedy the day he get shot, incidentally). And when someone give him the correct answer, he would say, "But how do you know that?" Because he insist that nobody truly know anything at all, not even him, escept that at least he knew that he didn't not know and didn't not know even that! Yes, Socrates was a great big pain in the hole, like one of those really annoying teenagers who answer every statement you make with "Whyyyyyy?" in a sarcastic whiny voice that make you want to thump them regardless of Child Welfare authorities. Is no wonder they make Socrates drink the wenlock.

And this indiscipline have been going on among the Greeks ever since. After Socrates there was Ariston, who went on and on and on and on and on. He go around asking, "What is the good life for man?" and before anyone could answer him, saying, for esample, "Obey the pope and your superiors and don't ask no questions," or "Laughing at the misfortune of others," he is saying, "I'll tell you what it is, it is the Golden Mean. Not too much of anything and not too little of anything." And if people say, "Well, that's no help whatsoever. By definition too much or too little of anything is bad. You're not a philsopher, you're a charlatan in a toga. And that's not even a real beard," he would just smile knowingly to himself and walk away quietly with your front gate, and you have to call the police.

The Greeks are full of people like that: Diogenes the Cynic who live in a barrel and masturbate in public, just like Greek men in Spain do today; Axolotl the incurious, who write no philosophy but espect all his students to answer his questions for him; Thesaurus the Prosaic, the famous pedestrian philsopher who walk everywhere and eat houmous while he philosophize and thereby give rise to the so-call Peristaltic school; and Platitudinous the Dull, who was make famous for his philosophical statements that are even today estremely commonplace, such as "Hmm, that's nice," and "Is it cold in here or is it me?"

It go without saying that a society that is base on asking questions and investigating all and sundry cannot be a stable society. Society is based on discipline, order, obedience, and unquestioning allegiance to the flag. Franco understood this, and so did Jesus. You must have faith in your betters, even if what they do appear, at first glance, to be corrupt, self-serving or unjust. Who are you, after all, to have any idea what constitute justice? An ignorant peasant is who. Or worse, a student.

Is what happens when you put the university just a stone's throw from parliament. It give students ideas, and that is the last thing you want!!

Is CENSORSHIP!!! And Not the Good Kind!!!

I am being gaggled by Stalinist Wenchmen!

This week I am disgraced to find that I have been pulled off at the Irish Life Review. Yes! My informative and educationative article I make last week about lady lesbians adopting children and the dreadful persecution of the wise judge who want to prevent it, Fernando Ferrín Calamita, have been withdrawn like a flatulent Catholic penis from a fertile nymphomaniac. If you now are going to the ILR site in search for lady lesbians, you see this message, which say "Sorry, is not a post that is matching your criterios." Who said the war against communism has been won?!!!

Of course, as you know, I am no hypplecrite, and I am strongly in favour of censorship—the more the merrier, in my opinion—but there is good censorship, and there is bad censorship, and this is definitely bad censorship. I also am understand, naturally, that delicate readers may not want to read about what lady lesbians get up to, and that in some quarters is not appropriate conversation around the breakfast table to dicsuss rimming, roasting, fisting, bestiality, or Atlético Bilbao. It would probly make me spuke my porridge too. But have a look below again at my article and you will see the urgency and import of my message. This was being purely an informatative article, which was most essential to put in the public domaim, especially for my dear modest readers in Holy lovely pissing Ireland who will have no idea what the lady lesbians do or how they make children. And is not like I was making fun of mongs or calling for sterilization of all Catalans or employing racialist stereotypes about the humourless Chinese, for esample, all of which is very funny by the way, nor was I saying anything controvertible, such as the pope is fallible or English peoples is normal. No. I was providing a public servicing.

Is sad to say, but the left-wing atheist communist feminist gutterhuggers who have infiltrated all of the Irish media and, it must be said, even as proud and honourable place as the Irish Life Review, have bend over forwards to accommodate the massive and demanding lady lesbian fingers of fudge, or else they have decided that the pious Holy Irish readership is not yet grown up enough to be able to cope with what go on in the real world.

So be it. I will take it on the chin like a real heterosexual Spanish man and let it dribble down my neck without complaining. I am know that the truth is not fashionable or "trendy" or selling newspopers these days and that people want instead to read about Cheryl Tweedy and Wilkco, or Louis Welsh and KRS. But I am not thinking that either of you, my dear readers, should stand for it. I ask you please to go to the Irish Life Review website and leave messages there telling everyone that you are boycotting and not looking at their site until they give in to blackmail and reinstate my important message to the Irish people.

We must mobilize the forces of reaction in this time of great peril to our civilization. We shall not be silenced! Shut down the Irish Life Review!