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Samizdata, derived from Samizdat /n. - a system of clandestine publication of banned literature in the USSR [Russ.,= self-publishing house]
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Swampy redux I know how many readers and Samizdatistas enjoyed the glorious “Sod off, Swampy!” story from last year. Like the incorrigible news truffle pig he is, Tim Blair found that particular happy tale. This time Tim has prime beef on the menu. Here’s a taste:
Protester Angie Stephenson says it was terrifying.
“The workers, they were standing around cheering and whooping and yelling and making lewd comments so we had to call the police and tell them to get out here straight away,”
A great example of workers’ enterprise in the face of protesting menaces attempting to hinder a perfectly legal activity. I think I will pop down to the shops and buy some expensive fillet steak for dinner to further enjoy the labour of underappreciated abbattoir workers like those mentioned above.
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Silly cows!
“No arrests were made.”
Good for the Aussies. In the UK, the Blairite militia would no doubt have arrested the workers for using angle grinders in contravention of health & safety legislation. It may even have constituted a hate crime against the veggie fanatics.
In fairness, having elected to do the protest nude I can see why Angie might have been nervous when workers “took matters into their own hands”.
http://news.ninemsn.com.au/article.aspx?id=97387
Then, on the other hand, what did she expect? I hope the police distributed a suitable reprimand, if only for the shear silliness of it.
Actually I am in South East Queensland right now. (Don’t ask). I will have to go and buy some meat, I guess.
You can see too, right?
Weenies chainthemselves to stuff.
They are soon surrounded by rough looking men and women, who are paid by the peice, wearing white but covered with blood and carry long sharp knives.
Jocular comments are made about “long pig” while the cuffs get cut off.
Muffy and Co. start to worry that the joking has an edge.
Back about 1968, as the New Left began to flex its muscles in the US and other countries, some of the local activists from my very liberal arts college decided to join forces with the working class. Several dozen went down to the area auto manufacturing plant at shift change in the middle of the afternoon to greet the workers and show solidarity against the evil capitalists.
Well, things didn’t go quite as the collegiate radicals had hoped. The auto workers coming off shift found these hippie looking scruffs in their parking lot, carrying signs condemning the US, and the auto company they worked for, as imperialists and racists and warmongers and so on.
Some harsh words, and a few punches, were exchanged, with the student warriors finding out that working people weren’t really into Ho Chi Minh and the coming revolution.
The revolutionaries fled to their cars with their signs tattered and a few bloody noses, returned to campus to rally indignantly about the poor, deluded workers who obviously didn’t understand where their true interests were, and retired to various apartments to get loaded.
The group I hung out with, who were mostly apolitical and played bridge between classes instead of demonstrating, had something to laugh about for a couple of years, until we all went our separate ways.
I miss the bridge and conversation, but not the lunacy. College in the late 60’s wasn’t education, it was theater, and absurdist theater at that.
trouble is Veryretired,
Those student activists are now Government Minsters.
Jack Straw, Peter Hain etc. Their world and ours ceased to be the same a long time ago.
I always like to tell my Abbatoir tales (my dad used to own one) to suitably snotty vegetarians.
Yeah I was four, sat in the car reading the Beano, and watching cows killed in front of my eyes.
Up the ramp they go, into the electric stunner, then the humane killer, looks like a silenced Uzi, blasts a bolt of steel right through they’re brains. Then they slit them open. Floop! out come both stomachs. The pong is extraordinary, plus the rivers of blood.
The Bash street Kids are good this week.
Quiche for tea? I dont think so!
I’m vaguely amazed that radical vegis had the guts to even go near an abatoir. I used to date a semi-vegi who insisted on handling chicken in plastic gloves…
Which was weird because she was happy enough to eat it, when cooked…
I eat meat (and lovely fish) though I’m very picky and only eat very high quality meat which I treat as a minor luxury. To be honest, if I was a millionaire I doubt I’d eat more meat than I currently do. I just like cooking so much and am bloody good at it. I currently have some Cumbrian smoked wild boar in the fridge and am savouring it. The combination of it with black olives, orange, rocket and parmesan is something to kill or die for.
I wonder if the lefty nut-jobs have actually considered what the fate of cows, sheep, pigs etc would be if we stopped eating them….
Everything has to have a use, even me, especially when I’m searing a sirloin or a bit of tuna. And I like it rare…
Well now that’s a thought.
What would we do with the fluffy and furry ones we regularly eat now?
Kill them I suppose. One last time as it were.
I suppose we could sell it to the bunny huggers as environmental friendly.
After all look at all those Methane botty coughs we could cut at a stroke, just taking out the cows alone!
So Who do I have to kill Nick? to get asked round to your gaff for tea?
I hate vegetables but I love eating them.
If cows and sheep et al weren’t bred for eating there wouldn’t be very many of them would there?
Radical anyting-to-do-with-diet types are all mad.
Eat what you want I say. Those who shove their opinions at me in a holier than thou way are given shoprt shrift or laughed at. Sometimes both.