The Case for a Lovely DictatorshipPosted: September 30, 2014 Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: adultery, China, dictatorship, fascism, FDR, funny, Hitler, Hong Kong, Humour, leadership, morals, philosophy, politics, power, Somalia, Weird, writing Leave a comment
I think I’d make a lovely dictator.
It’s all in the elbow and secret police.
Beautifully folded arms and brutality in the case of people not celebrating your birthday and, congratulations, you’ve won.
So, I’ve written on the subject of fascism before (https://samsywoodsy.com/2012/12/13/im-a-nice-guy-but-i-cant-deny-the-fascist-in-me/) and this time I’ve got some evidence. The burden of proof is a wonderful thing when you have some.
Looking through annuls (as well as the anals…HA!) of history I’ve discovered the good deeds of dictators.
Naturally, mostly there is some an over-whelming degree of horror and unenlightened hatred from a few bullish men that feared losing power…but, my word, could they get things done…
Essentially- picture King Kong telling the trains to run on time. That train would arrive smiling because it was told to, with a faint whiff of not-big-enough banana just as you are ready to board for your morning commute into New York- avoiding the congested area around of the Empire State building owing to some sort of Great Ape in a uniform encouraging trains around from on high.
Picture this, and then picture your dead children, and you kind of get the idea as to why dictators can get things done.
Evil is a method perpetrated against others to ensure fear, and that fear is then used to sustain a very physical grip over the inhabitants of a state. As one famous US general once put it: “Get ‘em by the balls and the hearts and minds will follow”.
This is the method- often…and fuck it.
However, this is not the only method- for we also have Julius Caesar, Dictator with a capital ‘D’ because that was his actual role of office, and it suited him wonderfully.
Although Julius certainly had people killed; it was his politics (and wealth) that brought him the position of power in Rome, and the position giving to other by which to argue lay purely in how numerous you were in a knife fight. Act alone? Commiserations. 40 of you? Good for you- you’ve just done some ‘disposing’, not an easy thing to do and an awful stain to get out of your toga.
See Franklin Delano Roosevelt!
See his apparent wonderfulness, and forget-you-not that he ensured that whatever he sought to enact would become so by creating for himself: ‘Emergency Powers’.
FDR obtained his immense powers whilst the US was in the proverbial ‘shits’ (and…possibly literal…possibly- I expect that shit was a major aspect for someone in the depression era) of a grand-old, we-don’t-have-them-like-we-used-to depression…where the dungarees were dusty, the dust was the dinner, the dinner was the dog and there was nothing for dinner. Where’s the dog? In the dust. Yummy.
FDR created a great deal of benefits to the unemployed working-man that were necessary to bring the US out of the dark-depths of the depression, prior to the outbreak of WW2. And when that world conflict finally had itself a Pearl Harbour- things really got easy for FDR.
However…what matters here is that he was a nice guy.
Some might argue that he indulged in numerous and constant affairs whilst in office and whilst in wedlock to his (or rather: the nation’s) First Lady Eleanor…but she indulged right back at him. Indeed they would both appear to be rather good at indulging in the genitals of their chosen sexual partners. A gift for the extra-marital indulgences also seems to have served them well, whilst their actual marriage was rather more of a superb working partnership as opposed to a matter of the boring-old ‘love no other’ horse-tripe that so infuriates those more well libido-ed amongst us.
Maybe it meant they were more in-tune with their feelings following the ‘training’ of adultery.
“Once I was aware that I was feeling horny, upon which I acted. Another time, Pearl Harbour has Japan happen to it and I knew, as I did before, that I must fuck shit up…one…more…time”
He never said that, but I said it once whilst pretending to be him. Does this count? No, it does not.
They were good people.
And he was a great man.
Wonderful at affairs: foreign, domestic and extramarital.
A lovely dictator.
In his shoes- could you ask for more? Aside from the paralytic illness obviously (I hear he achieved that illness by falling off a boat. Paralysed and wet…never again).
Then there was all he achieved from the beginning of his Emergency Powers- such as working towards what would become the United Nations and a universal declaration of human rights. It took a dictator to get that done.
Prime Minister Harold Wilson, a man that acted upon the good council of academics and researchers to bring about the litigious roots for the legalisation of homosexuality 1965.
His actions, though tremendously unpopular in a land when one feared a gay man as something akin to anything that was a predator with an erection- bizarre and an enemy, brought us to where we are now, a place in history where homosexuality is celebrated as a joy and regarded by many (thankfully the younger of our over-crowded generations) as a social norm.
Who gives a fuck if the elderly want to maintain a world to their liking? Even if they gave a great deal during their lifetime- that is no entitlement to dissuading good people from harmless actions. Besides, a popular component of the meaning of life is: leave where you arrived a little more cheerful than how you found it. And stop being such a cunt.
Prime Minister Harold Wilson may or may not have harboured his own fearful grudge against his homosexual neighbour, he may have secretly yearned to bring sexual liberation to the masses that was frowned upon in the backbench of the Houses, but either way- he acted upon the informed and considered council of his chosen band of minds to ensure that what was right occurred.
At the time he was seen to be committing his nation to a moral danger, even in the sixties that swung, and it took a little time and far too much sadness to bring us about to where we are now. Fairly gay.
Before I select my final example of dictator-done-decent, I will quickly bring up that old chestnut of how Hitler’s military scientists did two things.
It is hard, in an article such as this, when on must bring about the sentence of: “And then there’s, you know… Hitler. And I’m sorry about that”.
I really am sorry about that. Not for mentioning Hitler, but for the results of him.
Although I really can’t take much responsibility for the Third Reich, I still feel an overwhelming urge to apologise for what they did. I’m not even blonde- but somehow I feel like I should have done more.
The positive effects of Nazi science today, amongst others, include:
- Research into nuclear experimentation, which would go on to be as applicable as we find it today.
- The negative effects of smoking.
Hitler’s scientists worked under his orders to discover and improve. Of course, there were other scientists working cold and malicious evils upon patients long-doomed to the Nazi dream, and these have been well documented and appropriately hated.
The effect now, however, is that we are a Nazi-scientist better off in research on smoking, inducing a ‘grand-stop’ of people partaking in the flaming sticks, and it is now seen as an item of ‘lacking’, as opposed to obtaining.
Essentially, smoking isn’t as cool as it used to be, and we have the potential to obliterate the planet as many times as we like until someone says: “Ok…I think they’ve had enough. Lessen up on the nukes”.
I guess it’s a bit of give and take, but at least we don’t have nuclear cigarettes- because those little stick of power would be really popular. Imagine the stains on our teeth.
Smoking is not as cool as it used to be and you have the orders of Dictator Adolf Hitler for that. And nuclear weapons are doing just terrifically.
Siad Barre was the fascist leader of Somalia throughout the 70’s who did some typical, African-leader, I’m-a-bastard, things. Yet forgive me, for there are some acts of his that fought the popular model to please the people and instead did what he felt was right via looking around the world to gain a better view.
Somalia, at the time of 1975 and for a good while of Barre’s reign, was essential a land of Islam and Sharia Law, the burqa being the only choice for women’s fashion and men felt a heavenly-condoned compulsion to carry a large rock in the hopes of seeing a woman doing something adulterous; like being seen.
Siad Barre, a murderer and tyrant, introduced the 1975 Family Law, permitting women to divorce their husband by their own choice, as well as being permitted to an equal share of inheritance from a dead male relative.
This was a good thing to do for women and although I doubt a Muslim woman trying to enact this right would rarely have been allowed out of the cellar, and may have in fact led to a great deal more death-by-gravel perpetrated some sort of religious ‘flock’ of cunts, it was a thing intended to do good, for good.
And it stayed this way for a while. Any trouble? Quash it. That’s right- not even ‘squash’ it, we’re not going to waste that extra lick of the tongue on these dissenter, not when we could be quashing them.
10 Muslim clerics stood in their mosques following the announcement of the Family Law and called for it to be ignored and urged rebellion.
They were all killed.
Not that Siad Barre was a pleasant fellow or anything of the sort. All I’m trying to convey here is this: the good act would have been rebelled upon had it not been for the hands of a dictator working their brutal magic.
And then there’s me…I’m a nice guy, but I can’t deny the fascist in me. Given the chance I wouldn’t permit religion in a nation state, owing to the matter of the millennia of devastation, and when I would be told that this was unjust…I’d hit them with a shoe. I’m a fascist; don’t judge.
Doubtless there would be those demanding several of the UN’s freedoms of speech and religion, brought about by my dictating colleague President Roosevelt, and I would have to impose a stance against this right, and I wouldn’t have to explain why because I’m armed. (In reality, of course, you may find my answer to such a question soon to come. Let’s just say I’ll alarm you to its presence, as well as for the sake of it).
“You’re entitled to your opinion but only here. Elsewhere I’d be following you home and liberating your wife”
I was about to conclude my piece here with the pronouncement encouraging action upon one’s ambitions for the world, and then pro-democracy protests began in Hong Kong (28/09/14). I feel piteous anger for those suffering such a thing as China.
China is a body ravaging its heart for the sake of its brain- a state that learned to eat its feet as fuel to march. Elimination of the of human rights has been remarkably beneficial to productivity- a lesson learnt long ago, at least as far back as realising how a whip can bring about pyramids in Egypt.
And so it is that I must concede the point, which is good, out of sheer good fortune for ourselves: the world is inhabited by folk hoping for much the same as you and I…a happy life with little to fear.
Looking into the faces of the very young protesters of Hong Kong, I see no fear, but a righteous anger and pride that so often swells when the very threat of fear has been laid upon the land’s table and the generation about to encounter it decide, or rather realise, there is no alternative but to stand up to a bully.
So, there, my case for dictatorship falls to the ground, with a self-inflicted bullet to the brain, a pill still fizzing mid-way down the gullet, and the petrol still currently being doused over it. There must be no body.
However, though I am regrettably confident that the actions of the Chinese dissidents (I love that identity- a Chinese dissident will never be out of vogue) will soon be…quashed…I am equally confident that like every other leader, from dictator of Rome to tyrant of 20th century Europe, that which is evil shall fall, to be either gloriously forgotten or solemnly learned from.
Fuck China; it’s really good at oppressing people.
Here’s to democracy in Hong Kong…not that there’s any chance of anyone there actually reading this…
Of course I’m Asian, why wouldn’t I be Asian?!Posted: May 30, 2013 Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: China, comedy, Free Tibet, funny, Humour, nationalism, nationality, population, Texas, Weird Leave a comment
Of course I’m Asian, why wouldn’t I be Asian?! Born in Britain to white/Jewish parents? Ok, sure that’s a pretty good reason, but other than that I’m talking mathematically.
Sometimes it’s good to talk mathematically.
Most people in the world are Chinese. Of all the nations in the world, the largest population is that of China- as you all likely know. Therefore, partly going by how I don’t use mirrors that much (yet am still somehow physically approachable) whilst mainly because most people are Chinese, the chances are that I’m Chinese.
So…y’know…sorry Tibet. I feel awful. And I feel Chinese.
And I guess that automatically makes me a dissident, which is marvellous. I have for a long-time-lately agreed that Tibet should be free, but as much as I believe in a free Tibet, I also simply have to insist on a free Texas.
I don’t think that people can really comprehend what Texans go through daily.
It’s called ‘lunch’.
‘Lunch’ in this part of the world isn’t a dinner party, or a day at the beach, or a piece of cake. It’s like being raped by foodstuffs that are yellow. Yellow or brown. Either way; they’re raping you and they’re French fries.
I once encountered a Texan that was so large that her arse drooped over the chair and down to, and fucking touching the floor of that restaurant. That Chinese restaurant.
Poor Texans. If you were to donate just £3 a month to an average Texan family…the money would probably be painted yellowy-brown and eaten.
How very continental indeed.
However, this doesn’t diffuse the issue that I, like you likely are, am Chinese.
I’m not quite sure how to take this. Of course, when I think about China, my cheeky little brain leaps to humorous racism- the kind we can all enjoy and indulge in. And then, what with myself being a newly acquainted Chinese dissident, am filled with a terrible and Chinese anger at myself.
The trouble is- I don’t have nuclear capabilities (though preferable, of course, to nuclear incapabilities), not even a little one for the weekend.
China does. They’ve got the guns and the numbers, whereas I’m 5 8″ and that’s about it (though I am of course selling myself short. My smile- is heavenly).
It was parenthetical a moment ago, but now it rings through to me that it might be worth something.
I have a sunny day of a smile- whilst China has a population problem. There’s a defining quality- “I don’t have a population problem; you do! You numerous bastard!”.
I guess, therefore, thus, and…hence…that it’s a waiting game. We, the Chinese, will run out of China and either have to take a little more and a little more of other places until they don’t put up with people like me anymore and the Mutually Assured Destruction that has plagued us all since the beginning of all beginnings is made altogether too hasty (for my liking) by other states.
States like Texas.
It’s a waiting game, and all I have to do it be patient, and let my fellow Chinese multiply until the young, once more, take over and Tibet is returned and perhaps then, I can make my way back to being English.
I love being English. It suits me.
You should try it sometime; you’ve all got the figure for it.
Where’s The Real Imposter?!Posted: April 21, 2013 Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: China, comedy, Communism, Economics, Economy, Fake, funny, Imposters, Parenting, People, Society, Sociology, Weird Leave a comment
I have looked around and noticed, and you may have as well, and that this economy is very strange.
Not that I’m referring to any sarcastic or satirical points of view about how there is no trickle-down effect and something-something ‘EU’.
I’m rather referring to the weird reasons why weird money is made by some people, and the weird requirements of the public. The weird public. Because obviously; we’re all weird here.
Look to your left, you will see (hopefully) other people. All of them are strange, and you can probably tell by the way that they’re also looking to their left and making facial expressions of ‘yes, they are strange Sam’ prior to getting that feeling that someone is watching you- probably from the right. Anyone looking to their left; forget about them. Anyone looking to their right; never mind them too. Avoid eye contact and stop breathing so much. Yes. We’re being obscure.
There is a craving from these ‘all-of-a-sudden’ people and their offspring. Now I’ve worked in a wide variety of places, and I’ve been around the world, and I’m getting to the fucking precipice of ‘staying-here’ and wondering why so many fake things are made. Children can’t want that many fake things, you’re going to destroy their imagination if you keep feeding them things to play with that are too similar to the real world. Children don’t need too much of that real world- just have them encounter a scary dog when they’re 6 and they’re raised. They are officially parented.
After that- it’s up to them to have a good time (weather permitting) upon their own steam and simply pass on the family gene (mainly your big fuck-off nose) or avoid as such entirely so as to de-populate the world. (I suggest- when we start to re-populate the ocean-space…at least one of us needs to stop breeding. Hopefully you, with your big fuck-off nose)
I was half-way through this article when I decided to take a walk out deep into the country to gain a little perspective and to enhance my buttocks.
Along the way, whilst still in the city, I looked down and noticed the exact point I was making here to be, in fact, everywhere.
It was small and purple, lumpy looking and dirty.
I bent down to pick it and held it up to the sun’s light.
It was a fake bunch of grapes.
How very appropriate.
I had to leave quickly as I realised I wasn’t country-deep enough yet. You can tell when you’re deep in the country around where I live because, and this is a little strange, it feels good to hear explosions. You start to crave a bombing because it adds a little character to the scene. Lovely butterflies, transcendent sunshine, no cars and still no cars, and just some slight and distance bangs. It really makes you feel happy not to be in a town, because you know you’re definitely not being bombed.
There have been other times when this has happened to me- when fake things have turned up and I don’t quite understand what’s going on.
I’ve worked in schools for 4-11 year olds. It was here that I encountered my first fake croissant.
What child needs that?! Was it even for a child?! I don’t know- I just threw as hard as I could- no one complained.
Now I’ve thrown real croissants as well, and I’ve enjoyed it, but this was different.
I’d like to suggest, since I’m going to write something down anyway and it might as well appear to be helpful, that whoever is doing the production of fake things: stop. For the sake of imagination. I can assume a croissant. I’ve encountered them and I have thrown them. I need no fakery. Nor do the children. Let them assume.
However, what about the industry- the economy? How many jobs rely on the seemingly major production of small imitation things? I bet they’re all Chinese- why not eh? Being Chinese is extremely ‘in’ at the moment- everybody’s doing it.
Maybe that’s the secret to successful communism. Maybe it’s just a false pineapple. Maybe I should get some sleep.
Should the false-idol business fall through the real floor, would China fall to its real economic knees (China has economic knees. Explains the popularity) following an influx of cheaply made, poorly designed, barely resembling a lemon, fake lemons from Pakistan?
Who wants that? Me, but for the love of the species, please keep the Chinese happy- they still make pretty decent and real shelving units.
On a Tuesday (it doesn’t matter which one) I bore witness to a small roast chicken. It completely consumed me. I bore and bore and bore witness till I eventually got to the point of thinking that this was not a real fake roast chicken. Because they’re made in China. And this one was sweating, or something.
I actually said, albeit to myself- “you’re not the real imposter! Where’s the real imposter!?”.
And then I told you about it.
I’m a nice guy, but I can’t deny the fascist in me.Posted: December 13, 2012 Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: A self-discussion concerning fascism., activism, activist, advice, bored, China, comedy, fascism, fascist, funny, Germany, good and evil, military state, oppression, politics, propaganda, rebellion, self-help, umbrellas, Weird, writing 2 Comments
Of course, I don’t actually have a fascist inside me. No. Of course not. If I did then he/she wouldn’t allow me to blog about it.
However, opinion-wise (maybe not ‘-wise’, more…’opinion-esque’) I have to say that fascists always seem to be the way to go for me. Removal of free-will tends to mean that things gets done.
Let’s look at the Nazis. Apart from the war and the moral side of things, they were tremendously successful. Happy families, smart uniform, and a jolly rally every now and then.
Then there’s China. A super-power with little going against it apart from everyone else, yet everyone’s money is very much so in China’s favour. They’re doing rather well these days. China, you may have heard of it? It’s usually Eastwards. Unless you’re Japan…in which case IT’S COMING…
It’s a pleasant change to be able to say that WW2 Germany and China are good examples of anything apart from Ming pottery, black leather, and very, very neat hair, amongst other evil and pointless things, so this shows just how good they were/are at fascism and that’s not something they teach in schools. There’s no ‘Fascism 101′ in which you turn up to class the fuck on time, have your shirt tucked all the way down into your shoes in case it should escape, and do your homework to avoid being blindfolded against the wall and shot whilst your parents are glad to be rid of you, you rebellious little shit. Hmm. Taking a nasty turn with the allegory here. Maybe this is another negative side of fascism. Unpleasant allegories.
But I want to focus on the fact that if any of us become ruler of the world; we would want to run it our way, according to our opinions and abilities. With the world’s resources behind you, the only people against you would be the rest of the world that wants their resources back unless you’re pleasing them, an odd thing to try to do unless you’re ruler of the world.
However, no matter what, someone will be against your way of running things, and here is the crux of the matter. If you were to simply take a leaf out of Nike’s book of slogans and say: “Just Do It”, then maybe, things might get done. And all you need after that is time. And maybe bare in mind that Nike are being really rather rude and insistent. You don’t have to do it if you feel like it, unless of course you’re being told to do it by the local fascist, in which case you’d better remember that they can be pretty determined. And that you’re just a rebellious little shit.
Some people will become freedom fighters and terrorists, and all you have to do is outlast them. Gradually, people will forget that they are under a fascist state and will assume that things are as they should be, and that’s all.
I say, just take power and then fuck ’em. Now I’m prepared to give this a go, but don’t do it if you’re evil, that’d be extremely unfavourable to my game-plan here since people will assume I’m encouraging you. Unless of course you’re a fascist and think I’m being rebellious. You’d better oppress me before I get out of hand.
How would we take power?
Well, normally I’d suggest T-shirts, you walking propaganda you. Wear your political mantra and strut. If people begin to throw things, let it get stained with battle-wear. The red of the Union-Jack represents blood spilt- I hope your new stains will be just as romantic. Otherwise…umbrellas.
Umbrellas, rather than towels, are what I feel Douglas Adams should have recommend all travellers should never be without.
They can be propaganda, they can shield you (unless being it with anything harder than water), they can be brandished– yeah- brandished…before wither being used to fling, strike, thrust, adorably poke and, of course, gesture with. All this, and they are terribly English. The English do wet hair- we do wet-woollen shirts in summertime ponds.
Right. So there you go. Umbrellas and fascism: it’s probably been done, but at least you have something to do now. You fascist.