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Irish Nationalism and Catholicism (E.g. The National Party).

That new nationalist councillor, Malachy "people will be switched off their machines to sell their organs" Steenson, is another one for the comedy galleries.
 
I'm still smarting after seeing the panel on Have I Got News For You lampooning Justin Barrett.

The midgety little cunt managed to place us all in the frame of Alf Garnett V Father Ted.
 
www.thejournal.ie

Short-notice 'meeting' of National Party attended by one person to dismiss Justin Barrett ruled invalid

A dispute between Justin Barrett and James Reynolds, co-founders of the party, has seen both men try to remove the other as an authorised officer.
www.thejournal.ie www.thejournal.ie

So the nationalist party continue to make utter fucking gombs of themselves. First off, Barrett decided he wanted Reynolds out and he made that one hilariously mad over-the-top video of himself ranting about Reynold's various levels of ignorance and stupidity, and then Reynolds called a party meeting for the following day at 1900. Then emailed it to Barrett's seldom used email account. Then emailed him again a few hours later bringing the meeting forward to lunchtime, and again sending it to a rarely used email address. In the end he was the only human being at the meeting, so he motioned for Barrett to be outed, then voted in accordance with himself and took over the party reins. Or so they say.

If these two clowns are the best nationalist Ireland has to offer, then no wonder Simon Harris looks like a man of great gravitas in comparison.

The Irish: a great bunch of lads.
 


Before auld wrinkly-balls St Zipperneck deletes it, here's a starter thread from the formidable Mods Vs Roc*ers posted over on the festering gay bar site Arsefield's. There's no way Swordid's going to leave a brazen post of this nature up because it directly tackles him (and his latest pet boy Jambo) on their values and political outlooks. Jimmy got pissed off being booted all over this site, so he took his slab of Dutch Gold and quit in a huff. Then showed up briefly as AN1 on Arsefield's before being deleted (by Zipperneck) only to return as AN2 on the same site. Except now he's firmly under the un-feathered wing of Ireland's longest term (fake transsexual) Sword Of Golah's Neck-Beard, who knows that since Kangal got the bullet, Wolfie had no one to argue with (Arsefield's is after all a right little shithole frequented by freaks like the inanely religiously inclined Tiger and even the demented and permanently angry auld Wolfie himself, a laughably useless old man with a wrought iron walking stick he likes to whack you in the shins with if you get within swinging distance of the old crone).

Zippy's rusty auld wheelchair caught a flat, and he had no one to push/turn him around so he could see the world 360° rather than through the tiny gap of his always-twitching lace curtains. Zippy is very pleased with himself that he now has his equal to natter with all day and night. These two like to classify people into strict personas/intellects based on country of birth and their current IQ - their pet excuse to aggrandize any incoming immigrant into some problem to be solved rather than a person to be saved from whatever they're running from. War. Religious tyranny. Starvation. Drought. Hopelessness. Greed. Boredom. You name it. Of course the fact that Zippy's never once left Ireland (the northern bit we call Ulster) makes him think he has a god-given right to demean anyone he doesn't like, anyone who doesn't respect his 'authority' (see video below) and anyone else who arrives in the Republic of Ireland (where he most certainly DOESN'T live) for whatever reason.



So now Jimmy and Zippy are as happy as two pigs in shit, throwing big lumps of the smelly stuff at anything that moves on their horizons. These two sad bastards have about as much real world experience as my second cousin's first and brand new baby girl. All she can do is shit and sleep. Sometimes she wails for no apparent reason, but in general she's well behaved and sleeps most of the day. She has someone to change her nappy every time she soils it, much as Zippy does for any and every new chat site that opens. He puts himself forward with his black-inked curriculum vitae on a worn out sheet of velum offering to clean the site sewers for free all day every day. Since around 2005 actually. That's twenty years of shoveling wet shite from here to there and back again. Twenty years of pretending to be a woman. Twenty years of being a snide and cowardly little rat. A complete waste of organs, blood, and tissue. And oxygen.

The way these two have to shove everything that flusters them in life and the world through the eye of a needle makes me laugh. They're convinced that everyone has to be somewhere (left/right) on the political spectrum - rather than mere observers like me. I look back over my shoulder for the laughs and giggles at the hopelessness of Irish woes. It never fucking ends. Ever. Now you have Mickey Martin acting like the Number One while the actual prime minister is just a meek little boy who isn't quite sure how he ended up where he is today. His few grey hairs of last May are now lost in jungle of grey/white hair, and he's aging pretty quick. Bearing in mind he has a problem shitting, one can't help but consider him full of it. Harris is way out of his depth, but that doesn't matter: he's presiding over the Irish citizenry, and they're even meeker than he himself is. Just look at the way Mickey Martin outclasses him every time there's a camera nearby? Can't help himself. He's on RTE every fucking day nattering about this and that. Meanwhile little Simon's running around in circles trying to heap some blame onto Mary-Lou for her subordinate's error in hitting on a teenage boy of sixteen. Nobody wants to talk about the new bike shed or the printer that didn't fit through the doors, never mind the politician flirting with a minor. Don't mention the new Dail security hut either. Or those new Garda uniforms. Or those mobile phone holders for the kids. Or the national debt. Or the way that €13Bn from Apple Inc ended up in the last budget. Or the new children's hospital. Or the chaos that is the capital/city centre, Dublin. Crawling with junkies and bums. Homeless people all over the place. The canals still lined with tents (hello First World Ireland) and beggars on every street corner.

Perhaps Zipperneck and Jimmy ought to classify each other, that might at least be a funny read?

It's hilarious watching these two trying to classify themselves as precisely as they possibly can: 'a bit to the right, a bit more, a bit more, and a bit mo' - stop! That's me: ethno, but not civic'. Two-legged, but too lazy to stand up. Angry, but not sure what about. Hopeful, but not for the future of Ireland. Or themselves. Two more little pieces of flotsam and jetsam floating on an ocean of human garbage.

But at least they have each other: which is nice, no?
 
Val's gearing up for the next election: he has six thousand plus subscribers on his utube channel (I have 10,200) so if he can charm them all into voting for him, we might get to see some real Irish political comedy. Not so much 'Yes, Minister' as 'G'wan, ye hoor, ye'.

Val in Leinster House?

They'll have to teach him how to use a standard toilet pot - and maybe get him to visit the dentist.

And take a shower: he seems terrified of soap.

The Irish Freedom (from soap) Party, 2024.
 
www.thejournal.ie

Stardust group acknowledges 'real pain' caused by Antoinette Keegan's National Party candidacy

Keegan withdrew as an election candidate for the National Party yesterday.
www.thejournal.ie www.thejournal.ie

These poor cunts in the National Party can't seem to catch a break at all. When the local NP member in Ballyer started her campaign, she was shocked at the attention I generated for her but really she hadn't a clue how to capitalize on it, even though she did score over six hundred votes without even hanging a poster up or giving a speech in any of the local halls or pubs.

She resigned from the party earlier this year and then got married.

End of story, Serina Irvine.

Barrett and Reynolds were the Laurel and Hardy vote until they managed to fall out with each other and then go apeshit at each other over the leadership and the missing gold bars. Mad stuff altogether: gold bars and Irish nationalists? Who among Barrett and Reynolds were the better man for the job? Neither of them. Two gobshites cut from the same cloth.

Now the head of the Stardust disaster's also pulled out after only a few days aboard the good ship NP, claiming her not having anything in common with the NP's principles and that it was a rushed decision she now regrets. Welcome to politics, Mrs Keegan. You might give Mrs Irvine a call to discuss your parachute.

For those of who are followers of the National Party, did it never occur to you that selling hoodies to skangers probably isn't a good idea?



Link: https://nationalparty.ie/product/np-hoodie/
 
www.thejournal.ie

Sinn Féin integration spokesperson stands over deleted post about immigrants who commit crime

The Roscommon-Galway TD said she’s “not pushing for it to become party policy” ahead of the general election.
www.thejournal.ie www.thejournal.ie

The Sinn Féin integration spokesperson in Roscommon–Galway, TD Claire Kerrane apparently deleted a Facebook post after stating that she thinks immigrants who commit serious crime in Ireland should be sent back to wherever they came from. It was grabbed and seen by both the public and some other officials before deletion. This has caused many a furrowed brow in Leinster House and she was asked what level of crime committed would mean deportation. That part she couldn't answer, which is understandable if it was knee-jerk/drunk/stoned momentary brain-fart she regretted. But if she had considered it more deeply and felt that she has a point, would you lambast her for it?

I've lived in Finland for more years of my life than those I lived in Ireland. That's my choice and I have zero regrets. If anything, I smile about it all to myself when I'm looking back over my shoulder to let the blighted little rock know I haven't for gotten her, or her slimy chicanery in how she treats those she considers of lowly status. Did I commit crime in Ireland? Yes: as a kid I stole potato crisps from the factory over the back wall and sold them in the schoolyard. I also stole from department stores with toy departments: not the toys themselves, but rather the stuck-on red cardboard stars that came with the packaging. Most kids didn't seem to notice them and threw them out with the packaging but I spotted the value of them and collected as many as I could and sent them off to England and three weeks later they sent back both the whole toys and parts of toys I requested. These too I sold in the schoolyard. I was never caught. I was never cavalier about it either: I worked silently and I worked alone. I was under ten years of age, yes - but not a gurrier, more of an entrepreneur looking for angles nobody else spotted. Nobody was hurt, damaged, or suffered any even minor loss. The crisps I considered a tax on the factory for driving us all nuts with the smell of them cooking close by. The toys because it was a cool and very curious little angle that paid off nicely: and I used the money to buy the things I needed as a budding artist and musician.

If I did get caught? Well, being from Ballyer, you can be sure there weren't any judges who'd see things my way, and most likely they'd have sent me to Letterfrack or some other godforsaken hell-hole of poor and disadvantaged children. Where I'd likely learn to be even more sly and callous as a result of what happens to kids sent to any of the industrial homes. You go in wide-eyed and terrified. But you come out hardened and angry. And dangerous. It's one of those killer loops only Ireland and the Irish can dream up.

Up here I also have a clean slate. I've never committed any crime and I have no reason to ever even consider committing one. I did get a ticket for jaywalking (they fined me €25 for walking before the green light showed). The depths of winter, it was very dark, early evening around seven, it minus twenty, the snowfall and severe winds blustered parallel to the ground and swirled all around me. I was half blinded, but there was no traffic, so after waiting I crossed and was only ten meters from where I was going. Bee-baw! Bee-baw! Blue lights flashing, two coppers in a marked van, my footprints in the snow behind me. They were bored, I was angry. There was yelling. Then after checking my details they told me to wait while they wrote up the penalty. I was fucking freezing and dropped all the shopping I was carrying. I hadn't any gloves, my fingers hurt from the cold. They took their time. I refused the first penalty they handed me because it claimed I almost caused a car crash. I didn't - there was NO traffic. They tore it up. Started writing out a new one and I rapped on the van window shouting at them to just send it to me, you have my address. They slowed down and took even longer. I was by then just about as pissed off as could get and started picking up the shopping bags with the intention of telling them to go fuck themselves and walking over to the door. Bee-baw! Fucking cunts. Two minutes later they handed me the sheet, this time written in English. So I started speaking to them in Irish. They gawked at me. Then there was more yelling and then I walked. I have that sheet of paper framed in gold and black in my hallway. My guests all find it hilarious. Bizarre. Getting a ticket for jaywalking in Kallio? Kallio?? The bohemian district? With all the drunk party people, the street corner hustlers? The massage parlours and the dark and dodgy lane-ways used by junkies? The hookers and the street dealers? And you? A fine for jaywalking? YOU??

And so we laugh about it.

A young American guy I know who married a Finnish girl was doing a bit of weed on the side. He and his wife (they were in their early twenties) smoked a lot. Dealing weed helped him afford their habit. Word got out and the coppers descended on him one night: they tore his place apart and dragged him in. He said it was all his weed but the wife had to give a sample and she got nailed on that, but didn't get arrested. The court case came up, he agreed that the weed was all his own and that he had sold some here and there. He got a six month suspended sentence, had to do some ridiculous number of hours of community work for no money, and if he fucked up again, he was out. He and the wife split up and she left Finland. And soon enough, he fucked up again. Then he meets a very beautiful girl (on fucking Tinder!) and within a few weeks they were married (he still hadn't turned twenty-four). She was from Malaysia, her family were rich, they'd been in Finland for several years as residents. Then the court case came up: they booted him out. Can't return for three years and even then has to run the gauntlet to get a visa.

Do I find that harsh? Nope. I may not agree with the severity of it, but dealing drugs and getting caught in the act is what it is. The law is clear about these issues. Smoking a spliff when out and about simply requires being discreet. Acting the clown about it will bring heat. It's your own responsibility to understand the terms of your Finnish residency, and dealing even Class B drugs is what it is. Heroin, crack, coke, etc will mean prison time, likely followed by having your visa overturned and a ban on returning for whatever period of time. Weed, not so much. You're now allowed to grow up to three plants of your own. It's illegal to sell any of it. It's illegal to trade it. It's illegal to smoke it in public. But they'll overlook things so long as you're not causing a scene or attracting attention.

So, when one decides to move to another country and they find themselves under the thumb of the law, should they have the right to stay or should they get the bullet? I'm an EU citizen, so my rights in Finland are a wee bit more secure than those of an American. American residents have to update their visas on a regular basis. Their work record, studies, marriage, property, etc are all available, along with all of your personal details, including your bank accounts. Same applies to me, except for the updating visas part. I can come and go as I please, just like any other EU citizen. So what would happen to me if I got busted for something that justifies a court case? I get my sentence and then I get released after serving it and will have an ongoing relationship with the accorded institutions until the last details of my sentence are fully served. Meanwhile, I'll have lost my home. My possessions would have been put into commercial storage and I'd get a hefty bill for all the hassle that causes. I may not get a bank loan. I may not even find housing. Finding work will be difficult under these circumstances. So in effect, they don't have to boot an EU citizen out: we simply wouldn't any choice but to leave. And the bills we ran up will still have to be paid, otherwise we can't return to the country at all without being stopped at the border.

Now consider, say: the twenty-year illegal resident/immigrant stabber in the Parnell Street creche debacle? He's in prison languishing after a stay in the emergency ward for the beating he got from bystanders. The little girl who's only recently been released from hospital suffered life-changing injuries. She had surgery more than once, and she's still in recovery and will likely never be the same again. He stabbed her in the neck. Her basic human abilities forever limited by the damage the stabber did to her. So what about him? He's costing you money while he's sitting around waiting for is day in court. He's not an EU citizen. He's Algerian. He was bumming the dole for the last twenty years. He was busted walking the streets with a knife on him previous to the stabbing. He fought a previous deportation order and even managed to avoid being booted out. Should he be booted out now? Or left to malinger? Or to face the law and serve his time and then be booted out? Should ever be let out of prison? Given the freaks and lunatics appointed to the higher courts, what if he does serve his time and is then set free? Boot him out or let him sign on again and walk the streets with a machete in his jacket? What if the little girl he tried to kill ever had to face him in public again?

Finding an acceptable/suitable legal balance that works for every member state of the greater EU and the international community isn't a simple thing.

The degrees to which Immigrant A commits a crime in contrast with Immigrant B may warrant different punishments. Their crime, their record, and their nationality are also factors. Should non-EU criminals be handled the same or differently to citizens of member states? What level of crime warrants an immediate deportation? Does such a thing even exist in Ireland? Or any other EU member state? Has it ever happened?

Paddy-Joe McBride kills a man over a row about money. Gets caught, goes to court, goes down, serves twelve years, gets out - then what?

Jamal Hussein-Al Bahi beheads a randomly chosen Irishman with a machete. Gets caught, goes to court, serves thirteen years, gets out - then what?

New York native Steve McGarrett shoots an Irishman dead over a woman. Gets caught, goes down, serves eleven years, gets released - then what?

There is no 'one size fits all' type solution here.

Is the law an ass or are we the asses?
 
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