(Above: no, not a leisure game moment in Call of Duty, but leftist zombies trying to conduct an argument with rational folk).
It's been a long time since we dropped in on the always reliable Hal G. P. Colebatch, and his scribbles for the American Spectator.
He provides infallible entertainment, and is sadly missed from the pages of The Australian, as are such other luminaries as Michael Costa.
Lately Colebatch has been in the grip of a tremendous burst of creativity.
If you're in catch up mode, perhaps you might like to start with Don't Be Scared of Godwin's So-Called Law, wherein the valiant Colebatch asserts the right to go on making comparisons to Nazis and Hitler as often as he likes. It seems giggling wicked leftist pseudo intellectuals are to blame for invoking Godwin's Law, as if it's some kind of rational argument.
Perhaps we could have a new term for those who lead with pseudo? Perhaps a Pseudo Law?
Colebatch also scores well by bringing in Orwell. There's never enough use of Orwell when talking of Orwellian matters, even if it might make poor Eric Blair roll in his grave:
Personally, I don't intend to be intimidated by chants of "Godwin's Law" or any other infantile slogan, used to smother debate in a way reminiscent of something from George Orwell or, if you'll excuse me saying so, a Nuremberg Rally. I have come up against echoes of Nazi thought-patterns and arguments many times and not only am I not going to be bullied into keeping silent about this, I believe every civilized person has a positive duty to speak up about it whenever appropriate.
Yes, lickspittle fellow travelling Nazis and Hitler worshippers, watch out. Colebatch is on your trail, and ready to disarm any argument you might come up with, by pointing out that your tendency to wear black leather puts you just one step away from the SS. And you thought you were just going to a party, you fascist leftist goon ...
The hapless Colebatch doesn't seem to have caught up with the Stalinist corollary however:
The same goes for Stalinist communism and the predictable parrot-cries of "McCarthyism!" or, more commonly in Australia today, "Reds under the beds!" They are simply forms of intellectual bullying. At best, they can smother the serious discussion of issues, at worst they can be used to conceal and/or justify genuinely murderous and totalitarian thought.
Yes, the parrots can speak only one cry with genuine indignation. In no way is Hitler! in any equivalent to parrot crying McCarthyism! Remember that you lick spittle pseudos ...
Next in line is a wonderful rant The Thief Prime Minister, in which the learned Colebatch explains that Julia Gillard is a thief (where this might leave George Bush, we'll leave others to wonder about). Reading his righteous indignation is a wonderful tonic for the system even if time has moved on ...
Quickly, no time to waste, because then we're on to Cultural Suicide, and a favourite theme of the master, explaining how England is utterly ruined. It has such a wonderful opening that I feel inclined to quote it at length:
The collapse of England's traditions and values had been marked by a series of increasingly grotesque milestones: the MBEs for the Beatles back in Harold Wilson's day (John Lennon being both a supporter of the IRA and probably the English-speaking world's premier icon for the drug culture), the Knighthood for Mick Jagger of notably dissolute and selfish life (something Shakespeare never received), the ad 2000 military tattoo dissolving into the pacifist slop "Where have all the flowers gone," the final ceremony of "Beating Retreat" boycotted by the Queen in a typically ineffectual or possibly imaginary Royal Protest, the official announcement that Britain can no longer defend itself and is likely to lose another 20,000 men from its already desperately overstretched armed forces, as well as one or both of its projected new aircraft-carriers (although billions have been spent on them already) are a few others. A bishop offers homosexuals counseling and in interviewed by the police for having thereby both committed a hate crime and failing to celebrate diversity. Basil Brush, a cartoon fox-puppet on children's television, is similarly interviewed and cautioned for having made a joke about gypsies.
Indeed. Doomed. Ruined.
But strangely no mention of how a professional virgin, one Cliff Richard, scored an OBE but refused to do anything to sustain the troubled isles by way of marriage (happily these days he lives with a priest, here). Is it a clue that the despicable John Lennon once said that before Cliff and the Shadows there was no British music worth listening to? As for the outrageous fact that Sir Reginald Kenneth Dwight scored an OBE, is there any deeper or darker indication of Britain's tragic decline? (The name Sir Elton Hercules John shall never stain this blog's pages). Why they hand out OBE's like confetti ...
Colebatch is a wonderfully forgiving humanitarian, but it's fair to say he's a tad disturbed at the way the lunatics have taken over the asylum. He manages to evoke, in no particular order the picts, Bukharin, Bolsheviks, a Bramscian project, and Homo Britannicus, before sharing his caring side:
The latest milestone in Britain's government-sponsored deliquium is a service at St. Paul's Cathedral to celebrate the life of Alexander McQueen, a frock designer who committed suicide by hanging himself. He had made a great deal of money and like many degenerates, he was fascinated by skulls.
St. Paul Cathedral! This, where a procession of fashion-freaks and coke-snorters trooped, had previously seen the funerals of, among others, Nelson, the Duke of Wellington and Sir Winston Churchill. It was the site of the Jubliee celebrations for Queen Victoria and services marking the end of the first and second world wars. At its building it had both shown Britain's architectural genius to the world and shown its recovery from the great fire which had just burnt the heart out of London and nearly ended the British Empire before it properly started.
Oh dear. The thought depresses me so much I feel a tad suicidal. Is this why I've developed a fascination for skulls? Every so often lately I've dreamed of fondling Michael Costa's balding pate. It's a deep and disturbing sickness.
Not that we're suggesting that it should happen, but Colebatch quite rightly observes that suicides were once buried in unconsecrated ground, at night, with a stake in them ...
Has the dropping of this commendable practice contributed to the complete decline and fall of British and perhaps western civilisation?
Colebatch makes a wonderful ascetic and stern critic, denouncing Christians who might offer some sympathy to disgraceful suicides flinging the absent god's great gift of life back in her face, and is particularly hard on all that passes in dumbing down Britain to a ...
... swamp of dimness, superficiality and triviality of thought and feeling, in which rubbish, or at best ephemeral entertainment, is exalted to the status of a great spiritual event.
Damn you lady Di, you candle in the wind, damn you Prince Charles for embracing a flickering candle, damn you Queen Elizabeth for consorting in bed with that damnable Philip and producing such an emasculated heir. Once more the monarch has ruined Britain, and turned it into the kind of frivolous farce last seen in the days of Charles II. Bring back Oliver Cromwell, and bring him back now ...
And to think that brave man Nelson, who once had a mistress, is now so maltreated and forgotten in these sceptred isles ...
And finally, let's just touch on Colebatch's latest offering, Now Obama Offends Australia.
Colebatch is rightly indignant at the way the fiendish Obama has flown over Australia (or nearby) on his way to Indonesia, and in the process of soundly trouncing and denouncing the wimp, who so forgets his friends, makes this compelling point:
Could this be a reference to that adversary culture Left exemplified by Paul Sheehan in Lives lost currying US favour?
Did we get it all wrong? Has Colebatch teased out a haunting truth?
Could it be that Paul Sheehan is in fact an evil double agent, and his pose as a right leaning commentator is simply a disguise, as he trolls this country towards leftist defeat and a very British slide into ignominy, corruption and despair?
Serious questions.
Still I was moved by Colebatch's advice regarding abuse while conducting a debate, and pleased to see, in the responses and comments to his latest piece, that his defiant advice regarding Godwin's Muslim Law had fallen on fertile ground:
He's a MUSLIM. He's a Muslim, he's a Muslim, he's a Muslim. The only ones who's *SSES he's kissing, are the MUSLIMS, the MARXISTS, the SOCIALISTS, and the COMMUNISTS. Why?
"And I saw the BEAST rise from the SEA. And he was given a MOUTH, to speak Haughty and Blasphemous words. And he was allowed to exercise authority for forty two months." Revelations 13-5.
He only likes the Countries that Free People consider to be EVIL. Open your Eyes. There's no other explanation. The Mayan Calender ends Dec.21, 2012. Barack Hussein Obama's reign, ends Jan. 21, 2012.
Coincidence?
"And I saw the BEAST rise from the SEA. And he was given a MOUTH, to speak Haughty and Blasphemous words. And he was allowed to exercise authority for forty two months." Revelations 13-5.
He only likes the Countries that Free People consider to be EVIL. Open your Eyes. There's no other explanation. The Mayan Calender ends Dec.21, 2012. Barack Hussein Obama's reign, ends Jan. 21, 2012.
Coincidence?
Well as another noted Obama's term actually expires Jan 20/21, 2013, the precise moment dependent on your level of pedantry, and give or take impeachment, an assassin's bullet or other unforeseen event, but these are mere details, schmetails, because everything will surely end badly ...
The Nazi left and their Goebbels Goering goon squads and SS rabble will see to that ...
I must say after this splendid way of wasting a lunchtime, I did wonder if they were putting too much fluoride in the water in Sydney ...
I wonder what the level of fluoride is like in Perth?
(Below: Sarah Palin giving a satanic sign? Or merely proving she loves that good hard edged American rock in preference to the appalling soft core pop music emanating from Britain, which once almost ruined American and western civilisation, having already ruined the empire. Damn you George Formby, damn you and your banjo ukulele plucking to hell).
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