relearning polity - uncured

This week I'm a non-aligned Gaian anti-theist kinda hippy. So, naturally, I spot Fundamentalism like cat shit in a sugar bowl when it’s applied to otherwise rigorous disciplines like capitalism, religion and democracy (or any other construction used to negotiate peacefully with your neighbours). This is especially important when it come to Saint Friedman and his chorus of retards in the Church of Capital, but it applies universally . . .

Utopian hippies are, at worst, a benevolent mob, not essential to society but, let me tell yu, a very comfortable place to be buried in. Anyone looking to some god for a Utopian afterlife may be tempted to martyr themselves and millions of others; Presnit Shrub, Christian and Capitalist, has murdered more civilians than all the jihad suicides combined. (theHippy's thing is to go with the worms, peacefully.)

More dangerous still, the Fundamental notion that the free market can solve most of our problems.

To believe that lot is to believe the "Intelligent Designer" was an economist. Jesus fucking Christ, who the fuck is rewriting the fucking bible this time? "'In God We Trust' On every penny you lend", say'th the Lord. And the Lord wiped his flaming arse on Shrub the Elder and Ol' Mose chalked up another ripping commandment.

The capitalist's application of economic terrorism has been sharpened in the US and is touted as the tactic that finished Russian communism. Meanwhile, Castro countered with "doctors for oil" (and kick started the Socialist debate in South America, again. More fundy hijinks to follow). The Albright/Clinton 1¢ jihad killed more kids in Iraq than all the Bushes - from Nazi Banker Bush on down to Gee Wiz Jr.

Now, our fundamentalist approach to capital is being redefined in the Chinese mainstream. The recent tsunami in the stock market was a Chinese torpedo, an evaluation run, a sabre rattling the Yankee buck. "Sell $US/buy euro", it was heard to mutter as it ploughed into the heart of democracy's arse . . .

Now, if you'll excuse for a moment, I've left a fine old Royal Navy rum alone in my basement with Mr. Grumpy.