Beyond the soft palate

Tag: economy


Ten years ago …

From The New York Times of August 24, 2001.

CRAWFORD, Tex., Aug. 24 — President Bush said today that there was a benefit to the government’s fast-dwindling surplus, declaring that it would create “a fiscal straitjacket for Congress.” He said that was “incredibly positive news” because it would halt the growth of the Federal government.

In a 45-minute news conference in a community hall next to a recreational-vehicle park here, Mr. Bush avoided giving specific answers to several questions about how he would find the money for his next big initiatives — from missile defense, to overhauling the military, to reforming Medicaid — without dipping into Social Security surpluses that both parties have declared off-limits. And he made it clear he would not re-think his tax cut, saying, “I can’t tell you how proud I am to be traveling around the country and people say, `Thanks for the $600.’ “

At the same time, Mr. Bush talked in some detail about the economic slowdown, which he called a “correction,” and left open the possibility that he might dip into the Social Security surplus if a further economic stimulus was needed.

“I’ve said that the only reason we should use Social Security funds is in the case of an economic recession or war,” Mr. Bush said.

What a guy.



Let’s all reach for the rubber underpants and go hide under the bed.


One whole dollar a week!!!?!#@%$$!!!!!!! …

We’ll all be ROONED!

The chorus of outraged squeals that has accompanied this announcement has been so pants-wettingly hysterical, I’m beginning to think a more apt choice for a new Australian flag right now just might be a soiled nappy.

Run that up a flagpole and see who salutes.


Over at Groupthink, Tongues tells the “economy” to go fuck itself (again), and also has a look at the “evil books that crazy people read”.

What more could you ask for?

Yes, you could ask for that, but you’ve got buckley’s, so bugger off.


“It’s not a black hole, it’s just a very naughty spot.”



A new study has found that the number of Australians currently engaged in conducting new studies and compiling statistics about meaningless aspects of human behaviour, both personally and professionally, has ballooned by approximately 36.79% over the last 15.61 years and may be a leading cause of productivity losses over that time and a contributing factor to the current economic downturn.

Research conducted by The Institute of Studies into Studies About Bullshit has revealed that compiling studies about things whose conclusions would be blindingly obvious to the thickest halfwit on the planet consumes almost 17.825 million days per year as a nation and the resources of close to 47.3% of the current population.

Ross Sharp, the Director of the Institute, announced today that “if one were to take all the metal used in these studies from paper clips, staples, foldback clips, ring binders and those sliding metal paper binders that slice half your finger off when you try to remove them from a document, you could probably build a bridge between Sydney and Perth with it.”

He added, “We have individuals engaged in compiling studies about the economic cost to the nation of people taking two toilet breaks a day during work hours and statistics about the impact on the national state of mental health caused by recalcitrant shopping trolleys with dodgy wheel bearings, and we feel this type of thing has now reached epidemical proportions and something must be done, and done urgently, to address it.”

Mr. Sharp also stated that, “if we were to take all these people conducting studies into things nobody could give a flying fuck about and place them into some sort of productive work like the construction of public housing, we could probably solve homelessness in 37 seconds, build a couple of hundred new hospitals, some spaceships, cure cancer, and bring dinosaurs back from the dead.”

“Unfortunately,” Mr. Sharp added, “a vast number of Australians, rather than engage in some substantial form of work, would rather sit on their ever-expanding backsides, chew the rubbers off their pencils, and make studies about the impact on global warming from farting parrots who’ve taken one too many nips of over-ripe fruit and have then gone muscling about a public square making a racket at 5.00am in the morning squawking for a kebab shop”.

In response, a spokesperson for The Institute of Studies Into the Effects of Fermenting Fruits on Native Wildlife rejected Mr. Sharp’s comments as little more than the rantings of an angry and disaffected middle-aged man, and insisted that their research was vital in these times of global crisis.

Mr. Sharp replied that he couldn’t give a flying fuck about any of these stupid studies anymore and that he was going up the pub for a few beers, a smoke, a triple pastrami with double cheese on white bread and a side order of chips with gravy.


At this very moment in time … (and not that other moment in time, the one back there, to the left and up a bit … no, up a bit, next to the fridge … yes, that one, no, not that one, that’s the one we’re not talking about … ) … (… fucking retard) … tens of thousands of Australians are engaged hard at work, heads bowed, brows knitted and lightly beaded with sweat, the tips of their little pink tongues poking through their thin, pursed and pale lips, furiously scribbling and calculating and postulating and wondering, extrapolating this from that, and that from this, pulling a conclusion from here, and a conclusion from there, a theory, a probability, a series of infinite possibilities arising from said probabilities, pulling, pulling, pulling, pulling away, furiously concentrated on pulling, and what are they doing in there we ask ourselves, what are they building, what are they cobbling together and why, for what purpose and in pursuit of what are these sunken-chested and sallow-faced individuals engaged?

They are calculating the “cost to the economy” of “stuff”.

Here is a heresy …

Fuck the “economy”.

Fuck the “cost to the economy” of “stuff”.

Fuck your Footsies and Tootsies and Hung Low Sweet Chariots and Dowser Johnson’s and Cheese-Faced Bitch Indexes. Fuck your “market analysts” and “economic experts”, “forecasters” and “advisors” and their endless booga-boo voodoo predictions of wrack and ruin and hand-wringing predilection for doom and gloom.

Fuck the “market reports” that clutter up the daily and nightly news reports with obtuse bullshit dribbling from the mouths of bullshit-artists, shills and shell-game shysters whose sad, denuded lives comprise little more than spewing out utterly worthless speculations about the possible “cost to the economy” of this and the estimated “cost to the economy” of that, the rise of this and the fall of that.

Here is an immutable truth …

Doing “stuff” costs money.

Finding “stuff” out costs money. Making progress, advancing as a civilisation, developing something that may resemble a “culture” costs money. Science, education, health, research and development costs money. Public infrastructure, transport, homes, roads, the basic things we require in order to live a life costs money.

For living a life costs money.

What a fucking shame.

Are you ill? Have you been ill recently? Did you take some time off to recover? Time off from work? …

“You evil cunt, you sickly flyblown shithead, you neoplastic lump of swollen filth, you have inflicted your afflicted self on “the economy” and you have “cost” it. You have cost us, rancid thrush-bucket of congealed ooze that you are”

Are you old? Are you ageing? What’s that? You want to retire? Some time for yourself, you say? …

“Selfish fuck, cunt of all ages, can you not see the burden you place upon us? Can you not die? For the sake of the economy and the “cost to it”, can you not simply shuffle off to the back shed and punch a bullet through your ageing, addled brain? You scum, you spotted arse, you drained and withered harpies’ tit, we need these pennies, we need these pennies you cost us, this fistful of shiny, shiny coin, it clinks, it makes us hard, tumescent, engorged, we could cum a rainbow of riches eternal if it were not for you and your ilk, ulcerous scab on the face of the earth.

“How much have you “cost the economy?

“Let us see.

“Let us calculate, let us surmise, let us pull and pull and pull, let us pull suppositions, let us pull speculations, conjectures, a conjecture from there, a conjecture from here, blessed be our divinations in this, our holy work.”

And so.

On they plod, constantly muttering away in their sour and sociopathic monotones, muttering at us from their sterile and drab little cubicles from around the nation, surrounded by charts and maps and graphs about nothing at all, pulling and pulling and pulling and pulling in the manner of children pulling wads of crusty snot from dusty, cavernous nostrils and saving them up in old jam jars, saving them up for a rainy day, rows and rows and rows of old jam jars crammed with snot, just in case, just in case one day, one glorious day in the hopefully not so distant future, wads of crusty snot may become a common currency.

Fuck the “economy”.

Fuck it all to Hell.


I must make my witness.

I don’t have to tell you things are bad. Everybody knows things are bad.

It’s a depression.

Everybody’s out of work. Or scared of losing their job. The dollar buys a nickel’s worth. Banks are going bust. Shopkeepers keep a gun under the counter. Punks are running wild in the street, and there’s nobody anywhere seems to know what to do and there’s no end to it.

We know the air is unfit to breathe, and our food is unfit to eat. And we sit watching our t.v.’s while some local newscaster tells us that today we had 15 homicides and 63 violent crimes as if that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

We know things are bad, worse than bad.

They’re crazy, it’s like everything everywhere is going crazy, so we don’t go out anymore. We sit in the house and slowly the world we’re living in is getting smaller, and all we say is, “Please, at least leave us alone in our living rooms, let me have my toaster and my t.v. and my steel-belted radials and I won’t say anything, just leave us alone”.

Well, I’m not going to leave you alone. I want you to get mad.

I don’t want you to protest. I don’t want you to write, I don’t want you to write to your congressman because I wouldn’t know what to tell you to write, I don’t know what to do about the depression, and the inflation and the Russians and the crime in the street, all I know is that first you’ve got to get mad!

You’ve got to say, “I’m a human being! GODDAMMIT! MY LIFE HAS VALUE!”


I want you to get up now. I want all of you to get out of your chairs, I want you to get up right now, and go to the window, open it, and stick your head out and yell …


I want you to get up right now, get up, go to your windows, open them, and stick your head out and yell, “I’m as mad as hell, and I’m not going to take this anymore!”

Things have got to change!! But first, YOU’VE GOT TO GET MAD! …

From 1976, “Network”, directed by Sidney Lumet, Screenplay by Paddy Chayefsky

I need a vacation.