Christmas Is Over.

Christmas 2012 ended today at 11 am.
At a church in Cardiff we celebrated the life of my late cousin.
When she died on Christmas Eve, she left the holiday hanging over us until 'all other business' had been taken care of.

In this way, she touched us all one, last time, somewhat incredibly making this Christmas her last even though she couldn't be here.

It was a more memorable time, rather than one which should be forgotten, and the image of her bright, smiling face, will forever be associated in our memories with Christmas 2012.

Her children, crying in the church as they paid tribute, crying again as the little coffin made its way to the burial ground, now have no reason to doubt the common sympathy and support of hundreds of people they barely know.

So long Gill.

Christmas. No Cheer.

First of all, Merry Christmas everybody.
Our Christmas has been a sad affair; my younger cousin who was suffering from cancer, died on Christmas Eve.
She leaves a husband and four young children behind.

A few days before she died, she was still out and about, so you can imagine that when she deteriorated suddenly, we were and still are, in shock.

She didn't smoke or do anything risky; while cancer was in her family, typically everybody lived till they were at least elderly.

She was carried off.
She was a sweet and lovely kid that I can still see in my mind's eye.

How Can You Tell....

...the difference between a 'fan', and an Objectivist?
There are many differences.
First and foremost, Objectivists almost never use the term 'Objectivist'. In fact, the vast majority of them don't even know the word.

They merely apply rational judgement to the world about them, and reason their way through all the traps being sprung by the fever wards.

Fans, on the other hand, are never satisfied with the products of such minds, and only accept them grudgingly after they have done them down because they don't sound like an identical quote from one of the less elegant passages which can be found in the works of Ayn Rand; that is, they can't find the familiar hints that they have used to wear out a neural pathway to their tenuous hold on the truth.

Fans will witness a maestro of reason and wit producing a master work and yet will reject the work, or worse still the author, because they haven't polluted their work with unnecessary affirmation of someone else's expression.

In other words, fans, those fanatics of rote dogma, reject such people because of their integrity.

Because they are actual people.

And all the while, the rational go on being Objectivists in the same way that weights go on being 'gravitational', while they are on Earth.

It goes without saying that there are large numbers of liars and charlatans as well, but because fans have abandoned rational judgement for rote dogma, they cannot tell with any certainty.

So the cheats rattle the dog's bowl with the 'O' word and mention of Rand, and enjoy the spectacle of salivating fans who bark with their votes.

And the Objectivists are to be found elsewhere.

Take Five

We hear that the poor nurse who was defrauded by the press-they obtained information about the princess via false pretenses, a hoax- the poor nurse involved has committed suicide.

That's right. A victim of the ink-stained scum is dead. They drove her to suicide.

Whether she did it because she was the best, most incredibly conscientious nurse imaginable, or whether she just couldn't face sharing a world with subhuman filth that could reach her at any time it chose, the fact remains that she is dead, and it's their fault.
So what about it Dave? Are you going to regulate the bastards into the ground?
Or are you just a shiny-faced, grinning sack of crap?

In Your Oxbridge Punt.....

Your the National Post.
Actually they're showing signs of improvement.
And the bye-line was Conrad Black. Although it was still signed 'National Post' at the end.

Ministering Hatred.

Psychiatry. The refuge of the prurient.
When people wish to do great harm in the name of helping the helpless, they turn to psychiatrists.
When hatred needs to be smuggled into a victim's life under any circumstances, and trust doesn't exist, the hater turns to psychiatry.
For a modest sum in money and influence, anybody can buy the sort of medicine it takes to lock up a victim who is already suffering and confront them with a damned reality which makes their previous travails shrink in comparison. All it takes is the right kind of lies.

Of course, to go on enduring their own disgusting personalities after overpowering all resistance to their metaphysical murderousness, they must pretend that their feelings amount to benevolence, that they acted for the victim's own good.

They shore up this delusion with a fraudulent belief in the outcome; when the victim goes on suffering, the hater will pretend to the world that good has come of the medicine, that psychiatry, with its brain-deadening potions and confinement, has changed things for the better.
While some temporary relief may be found by the victim in the soothing ride from junked consciousness to inactivity, trouble is only being deferred.

As for the psychiatrists, most of them treat the state of victimhood as a label; the victim is effectively branded 'mad' by acquiescence to the fictions of the haters, the 'no smoke without fire' reasoning being used to slander and condemn in the face of any fact.
There are decent psychiatrists, but they are crushed by the union of hater and conformist which grips the profession in a vice of obedience which is as coercive as being locked up.

As far as I'm concerned, they can all go to hell. Especially the loving haters who treat psychiatry as the emergency service which protects them from looking at their own revolting minds.

International Sclerosis

Yet again the defeated policies of Charles Dickens' parlour are being dredged up from whatever ship they wrecked last time, and presented with all the fake freshness of a gonorrhea-ridden whore with a stolen bottle of Chanel Number 5 on a Friday night.
What makes this absurdity surprising, but only moderately surprising, is the fact that it appeared in the National Post of Canada.

Yes. They actually ran an editorial calling for a 'wealth tax to end poverty'. And an aircraft carrier. And a secret plot to bomb Iran.
Of course all taxes create poverty. Just look at your pay cheque and tell me you don't feel poorer. Of course this is a 'wealth tax', which means it's okay fellas, they're only going to rip off the mysterons mysterious rich people that everybody knows and hates, but nobody has met.

The aircraft carrier is supposed to make this nation of newly-minted superheroes feel 'strong' after showing their tender side by mugging Albertans rich people to incentivise them into helping the 'poor'.
Actually, the most amusing part of this is the National Post's claim that using force 'incentivises' giving, whereas it actually doesn't leave the choice to give in existence; further grotesqueness follows in the assertion that such an action renders voters reverse vampires charitable.

Only a feeling of shame must have prevented the life-form responsible from signing his name.