Answers Arent At The Back

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

I'm Fuming

OK let's pretend...

Let's pretend you've just bought yourself a nice new shiny car...
Let's pretend it's the make and model you've always wanted...
Let's pretend you've had to save your hard earned taxed cash for ages to be able to afford it...

OK...

Now let's imagine that the Government passes a law which makes it a criminal offence to drive the Vehicle!

It's OK, they've based there decision on good sound scientific fact, running the vehicle is killing you and everyone around you from pollution. [OK after some legislative pressure they have relented and allowed you to have a little fun with your purchase on your own premises or in selected specialist areas, race tracks etc.]

But they still haven't got any problems taking all the proceeds of the tax dollars you paid for the vehicle and fuel, from what is one of the most heavily Tax possessions you will ever own. [In the UK excise duty of petrol alone is over 50%]

It just wouldn't happen would it? Surely no-government could be so stupid as not to see the irony of banning us from using a product on the grounds that it is harmful, but not outlawing it because it generates a vast amount of Tax dollars for them!

Right... No wrong...

Today the British government reached agreement on draft legislation to ban smoking from all Public places, based on good scientific research that has proved that smoking kills.

So lets see... they've taken a vast amount of cash in Tax revenue [approximately 10,000,000,000 pounds sterling a year...], but now tell the people who have bought the product they are restricted to where they can use it!

Is it just me, doesn't this seem rather odd? If it's harmful and you really have all our best interests at heart, why not just ban it altogether?

Ludicrous...

Oh, but just in case you were worried weather or not you would still be allowed to smoke your Big Cigars in the Private Gentleman's Clubs [Boodles, Brooks or Whites on St.James Street], with the rest of your MP crones after a hard day in the Commons, then don't worry yourself. Although the legislation applies to all Pubs in the UK, private clubs are excluded! Here

Ciao Ciao
Confused from Chichester

I BLOG There4 I am

6Comments:

Anonymous said...: You miss the point. Smokers can kill themselves, but not others – thats the point. And the cost are much higher than some cig-taxes.

There is no need to ban cigarettes like to ban alcohol – first thing if no one is hurt, and second one if no ones is hurt on the streets with drunken drivers; 10:55 pm
Anonymous said...: Ironically Londons own smoking ban at definetely all workplaces will ban smoking also in MPs Private-Clubs.; 11:00 pm
Fletch said...: Anom. The point... 'Smokers can kill themselves but not others'... But it's OK for people to Drive around in monsters cars consuming vast quantities of fossil fuels and kill us all? Umm...; 9:02 am
Anonymous said...: lighting up times would need to be published

and smoking stunts your growth; 10:43 am
Anonymous said...: Yes but monster trucks don't drive at workplaces or in pubs. That's the point.; 11:41 am
Fletch said...: Anon. Try tellin the people in New Orleans Polution doesnt kill...; 12:30 pm

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The Register - Biting the hand that feeds IT

"I know why you're here. I know what you've been doing... why you hardly sleep, why you live alone, and why night after night, you sit by your computer...."

**********

D: "Where is everybody, Hol?"
H: "They're dead, Dave."
D: "Who is?"
H: "Everybody, Dave."
D: "What, Captain Hollister?"
H: "Everybody's dead, Dave."
D: "What, Todhunter?"
H: "Everybody's dead, Dave."
D: "What, Selby?"
H: "They're all dead. Everybody's dead, Dave."
D: "Petersen isn't, is he?"
H: "Everybody is dead, Dave."
D: "Not Chen?"
H: "Gordon Bennett! Yes! Chen, everybody. Everybody's dead, Dave"
D: "Rimmer?"
H: "He's dead, Dave. Everybody's dead. Everybody is dead, Dave!"
D: "Wait. Are you trying to tell me everybody's dead?"
H: "I wish I'd never let him out in the first place."

**********

"I know most of you have been where I am tonight: the crash site of unrequited love. You've asked yourself, how did I get here? What was it about--was it her smile, Was it the way she crossed her legs, the turn of her ankle? The poignant vulnerability of her slender wrists? What are these elusive and ephemeral things that ignite passion in the human heart?...."

"That's an age-old question; it's perfect food for thought on a bright midsummer's night. Hey, you said it best, Will: "Love looks not with eyes but with the mind, And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind." Yeah....."

**********

"Well one day I was at home threatening the kids when I looks out through the hole in the wall and sees this tank pull up and out gets one of Dinsdale's boys, so he comes in nice and friendly and says Dinsdale wants to have a word with me, so he chains me to the back of the tank and takes me for a scrape round to Dinsdale's place and Dinsdale's there in the conversation pit with Doug and Charles Paisley, the baby crusher, and two film producers and a man they called 'Kierkegaard', who just sat there biting the heads of whippets and Dinsdale says 'I hear you've been a naughty boy Clement' and he splits me nostrils open and saws me leg off and pulls me liver out and I tell him my name's not Clement and then... he loses his temper and nails me head to the floor..."

**********

"If u hold back anything Ill kill ya. If u bend the truth or I think your bending the truth, Ill kill ya. If u forget anything Ill kill ya. In fact ur gonna have to work very hard to stay alive. Now do u understand everything Ive said? Because if u dont, Ill kill ya...."

**********

"The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. "

**********

The details of my life are quite inconsequential... very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.

**********

Love comes when manipulation stops. When you think more about the other person than about his or her reaction to you. When you dare to reveal yourself fully. When you dare to be vulnerable.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

I'm Fuming

6Comments:

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