THE NEW DEVIL’S DICTIONARY

Or An Idiot’s Guide to Becoming a Commissar (Functionary)

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http://slackbastard.anarchobase.com/?p=16790 #3 Comment

The basic tool for the manipulation of reality is the manipulation of words. If you can control the meaning of words, you can control the people who must use the words. - Philip K. Dick

A

Adult, n., 1. What you become when you finally give up any hope of seeing your dreams come to fruition, of developing your creative potential or of even living in a basically sane society and submit to the powers that control and bore us. John made a very adult decision to give up on childish dreams of workers’ self-management and having any control over the course of his own destiny.

Australia, n., 1. The only reason you need. Asking questions is very un-Australian.

....The rally wrapped up with some political satire. Yes, the John Howard Ladies Auxiliary Fan Club who we came to love from the last election campaign, has been reborn as the Kevin Rudd Char Ladies Corporation, which provided some lighter moments with some satirical comment. Lady Hazelwood and Lady Lou Yang explained exactly what the CPRS is all about.

The ALP stands for 'Also Loves Polluters' or the 'Arctic Loss Program'. The CPRS stands for 'Continue Polluting Regardless Scheme' or the 'Carbon Pollution Rewards Scam' One of the ditty's they sung to the crowd: Old King Cole was a merry old soul and a captain of industry He made a packet in the mining racket and bought up the ALP And they demonstrated a new fashion use for Clean Coal. 100% organic they assured us. http://indymedia.org.au/2009/11/25/polluters-subsidised-under-emissions-trading-with-households-footing-the-bill

VIDEO # 1 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OCGrpXzbSD0

VIDEO # 2 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=78FNRTWdS0g&feature=related

see photos http://www.flickr.com/photos/takver/sets/72157622872521016/

By Jove ! singing: "Oh, Oh Oh What A Lovely War!" pip pip.

HANGING ON THE OLD BARBED WIRE

If you want to find the general I know where he is I know where he is I know where he is If you want to find the general I know where he is He's pinning another medal on his chest I saw him, I saw him Pinning another medal on his chest Pinning another medal on his chest

If you want to find the colonel I know where he is I know where he is I know where he is If you want to find the colonel I know where he is He's sitting in comfort stuffing his bloody gob I saw him, I saw him Sitting in comfort stuffing his bloody gut

If you want to find the seargent I know where he is I know where he is I know where he is If you want to find the seargent I know where he is He's drinking all the company rum I saw him, I saw him Drinking all the company rum Drinking all the company rum

Five British surgeons are sharing a table for dinner following a conference in London.

The first, a Manchester surgeon, says: 'I like to see accountants on my operating table, because when you open them up, everything inside is numbered.'

The second, a Liverpool surgeon, responds: 'Yes, but you should try electricians! Everything inside them is colour coded.'

The third, a Newcastle surgeon, says: 'No, I really think librarians are the best; everything inside them is in alphabetical order.'

The fourth, a Birmingham surgeon, chimes in: 'You know, I like construction workers best...those guys always understand when you have a few parts left over.

But the fifth, a Glasgow surgeon, shuts them all up when he observes, You're all wrong. Politicians are the easiest to operate on. They have no guts, no heart, no balls, no brains and no spine, and the head and the arse are interchangeable.

The Politician's Passing

As rosy dawn came peeping through the blind

A politician's soul from earth took wing.

A most amazing thing it was to find

That such a tiny, weak and shriveled thing,

A measly soul - no bigger than a louse -

Had dwelt in such a goodly seeming house.

Then swiftly whizzed the tiny, buzzing plague,

And headed for the Gate where Peter sat:

Its plans were neither nebulous nor vague,

All Heaven waited - It was sure of that.

On spheres mundane the life this insect led,

Develops what the vulgar call swelled head.

St. Peter dozing at the Pearly Gate

Aroused himself and yawned with jaded eye

He watched old Sol the Earth illuminate,

Then stretched himself, as with a weary sigh,

He looked along the straight and narrow road,

And shook himself and murmured, "Well I'm blowed."

The Saint was puzzled and a bit annoyed,

His takings at the gate were falling off;

The antics of his touts, on Earth employed,

Inclined most folk at Peter's joint to scoff.

THIS IS A NONPARTISAN JOKE THAT CAN BE ENJOYED BY All PARTIES! NOT ONLY THAT-- it is POLITICALLY CORRECT!!

While walking down the street one day a "Member of Parliament" is tragically hit by a truck and dies. His soul arrives in heaven and is met by St. Peter at the entrance. '

Welcome to heaven,' says St. Peter. 'Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a high official around these parts, you see, so we're not sure what to do with you.'

'No problem, just let me in,' says the man.

'Well, I'd like to, but I have orders from higher up. What we'll do is have you spend one day in hell and one in heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity.'

'Really, I've made up my mind. I want to be in heaven,' says the MP.

'I'm sorry, but we have our rules.' And with that, St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell.