If a picture's worth a thousand words...

How many lives are worth a barrel of oil?

As a Scot and a curmudgeon both, I would be remiss if I didn't mark the passing of one Margaret Thatcher, former UK Prime Minister and good friend of the morally handicapped.

Words have power because, in spite of our relativistic bent, words have meanings.  We like to think of ourselves as a society where words constrain and control us: we write laws and statues, enshrining them with the ability to tell us what to do.  Imagine, beings of flesh and blood and power, but we give ink on a page the capacity to stop us from doing something rash, or compelling us to something for the greater good.

But then, we are still people, and sometimes people just don't care what laws say or what words mean: they want what they want and they will step on everybody else to get it.  People, with their squishy brains and hypocritical natures, can easily find themselves arguing from both sides of their mouth and proudly declaring that black is white.  And what's worse, people can convince themselves that they mean it.  While words written down do not change, minds do, sometimes because they learned something new, often because it becomes politically expedient.  Sometimes the same people who railed against abuse of power, excess in business and punitive poll taxes suddenly find themselves scrambling to find nice things to say and wagging their finger at those who do not meekly hide their hard-earned hate.

In short, fuck off BBC and the rest of the quisling media with your bullshit fawning over a murderous thief who wrecked the future and ended the lives of so many for the sake of her own vanity and the power and pocketbooks of her flying monkeys in business suits.


Now here it is, your moment of zen: