Category Archives: Wednesday Whackjob

The Wednesday Whackjob: Taoiseach Brian Cowen

He likes a few pints, does our Taoiseach!

It says a lot about our country that a man can’t go about his business in peace. Such a man is Taoiseach Brian Cowen.

How dare we suggest that our Fearless and Feckless Leader can’t bugger off to Galway with a few of his mates and wile away the early hours of the morning with a bevy of pints and a good old-fashioned sing-song? Sure we’ve all done it ourselves, haven’t we? Let he who is without sin cast the first vote!

So what if he wants to stay up until 3am, drinking and partying with his government cronies, know full well he’s addressing the nation on Morning Ireland? We’ve all done it ourselves, haven’t we?

And so what if he sounded drunk or hungover in that broadcast? We’ve all been “under the weather” on a Monday morning; why should our Taoiseach be any different. If he and his goons want to have themselves a little “think-in” over a weekend and discuss ways to get themselves (and our country) out of the mess they’re (and we’re) now in, indulging in four course dinners and later bars while they’re at it, why the hell not? We’d all do it, if given the chance.

And so what if the common thinking is to round them all up, put them in a field and bomb the bastards? What do we know? We’re only the electorate. Let the Taoiseach and his government dig their holes so deep that not even a million beer kegs will get them out.

Mr. Cowen, you and your government are a disgrace to the national and international community. I’d say good riddance to you if I could; but I don’t trust whatever else is on offer.

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The Wednesday Whack-job: Pastor Terry Jones

The Aardvark and I couldn’t let this day pass without making some sort of reference to Pastor Terry Jones of the Dove World Outreach Centre, Gainesville, Florida.

So, we’ve made reference to him. He and his antics (if they go ahead) will cause untold harm. It is generally understood that his beliefs, and indeed his church, represent virtually no one. If that is the case, why hasn’t someone taken Pastor Jones aside and knocked some sense into him? Are they too afraid? I mean, to announce to the world that he intends to burn copies of the Koran on 11 September is hardly the action of a sane man.

Pastor Jones, you are a whack-job!

The Wednesday Whack-Job: NAMA

NAMA: (definition) The National Asset Management Agency (as opposed to the Nicely Arranged Models Agency); a body created by the Irish Government in 2009 as a response to the Irish financial crisis and the deflation of the Irish property bubble.

In a nutshell (a):  NAMA will function as a bad bank, acquiring property development loans from Irish banks in return for government bonds, primarily with a view to improving the availability of credit in the Irish economy.

In a nutshell (b): It hasn’t and will not work.

FOR THE LAYMAN:

Hello Mr Bank! You look sad.

Hello Mr Nama! I feel very sad.

Why are you so sad, Mr Bank?

Because I did a swap, Mr Nama.

A swap!  Oh, I like swaps!

I like swaps too, Mr Nama.  I swapped 100 jellybeans for this box of broken  Lego.

Ooh, that’s a lot of jellybeans, isn’t it, Mr Bank?

Yes, Mr Nama. It certainly is.  I want my jellybeans back.

I have an idea, Mr Bank.  Why don’t you swap again?

I tried that, Mr Nama, but nobody wants to swap 100 jellybeans for a box of broken Lego.  All I can get is 30 jellybeans.

That’s not many jellybeans, is it Mr Bank?

It certainly isn’t, Mr Nama.  I’ve lost 70 jellybeans and all I have is a box of broken Lego.

Never mind, Mr Bank.  I have an idea.

What’s that, Mr Nama?

Well, I can’t give you 100 jellybeans for your box of broken Lego, but I can swap you 70 jellybeans.

Thanks very much Mr Nama. I didn’t know you had so many jellybeans.

I haven’t, Mr Bank.  I’ll take them from Mr Gobshite when he’s not looking.

But Mr Nama, how will you give Mr Gobshite his jellybeans back?

I’ll tell him we can swap the broken Lego for 100 jellybeans next year.

Yuk yuk yuk, Mr Nama.

Yuk yuk yuk, Mr Bank.  Game of golf?

Certainly, Mr Nama.  Yuk yuk yuk.

Images and text courtesy of Bock The Robber.

The Wednesday Whack-Job

Our country goes up in smoke. (Picture courtesy of the Evening Herald.)

It is said that Emperor Nero was too busy practicing on his violin to notice that Rome was burning around him. It could be myth and legend, it doesn’t matter either way.

Last weekend the Dublin GAA Football team played host to Cork in the All-Ireland Senior Football semi-final. Despite playing a good game, the Dubs were beaten by a point and missed their chance to play in their first final since 1995. Shit happens. They’ll get another chance next year.

As befitting to such a major sporting occasion, our Taoiseach, Mr. Brian Cowen T.D., attended as a guest of honour. Croke Park is a magnificent stadium, and it’s only right that it should be designated a smoke-free zone. (It doesn’t stop the fans on Hill 16 from puffing away on their John Player Blue, though.)

A box of cancer sticks. Filthy habit, really.

I have to be honest and say that though I knew that BIFFO (Big Ignorant Fecker From Offaly) enjoys a pint or ten, I didn’t know he was a smoker until a member of the public spotted our beloved leader puffing away in a prohibited zone, and promptly notified the relevant authorities. No, not the gardai, but Joe Duffy’s Liveline radio show on RTE.

I’ll write more about Mr. Duffy and his show at a later stage. But for now, I wish to add my sympathies to our much-maligned head of government. Let me put it this way, Cowen is about as popular as a fart in a spacesuit. So much so, in fact, that his fellow countrymen are willing to shop his little indiscretions to the media. Almost all of us who smoke have at some point sneaked a quick drag in places where we shouldn’t. It’s part and parcel of “owning” an unsociable habit. To some, it’s part of the fun.

Oh Brian, how low have you fallen in the esteem of your voters that we’re not willing to let trivial events like that slide? Not low enough, it seems. It seems ironic that in a week where Cowen was celebrated by the international community as being a leader with courage, his own community would prefer he was hung, drawn and quartered.

We’d have an election tomorrow – but the Opposition are no great shakes, either. Don’t get me started on Enda Kenny…