Monday, April 18, 2016

The Newest Dirty Word according to the Globe & Mail: Advocacy

Advocacy: Canada's Newest Dirty Label


Canada’s relentlessly pro-business, anti-citizen newspaper, the dear old Duchess of Do-Bad, the Globe and Mail, has a chief political philosophy boiled down to this sacred-to-Stephen-Harper dictum: It is the duty of every ordinary Canadian to spend, to piss away all available funds as a consumer of Canadian businesses’ products and services, while it remains the right-wing duty of rich Canadians and owners of companies to gouge, to cheat, to pay no taxes, to hoard funds offshore, to gob and swill at the hog trough of glut forever.

Any Canadian who dares to suggest disparity of income is obscene, any Canuck who stands up and has a viewpoint contrary to the bloated moneybags celebrated daily in Mammon’s toilet paper, the Globe and Mail, is “an advocate.” 

Advocate and advocacy are partisan right-wingers’ newest dirty words.

Here’s a picture in the Globe and Mail of Avi Bennett and Naomi Klein promoting the Leap Manifesto. How does the Globe caption identify them? Why, by Saint Paschal Baylon, Patron Saint of Wealthy People, they are “advocates.” On one Saturday front page they are gaggingly labeled “Canada’s first couple of advocacy.” Ewww! The customary Globe usage of “advocate” implies that such an infidel is situated somewhere south of fecally-smeared dung beetle and not too far north of pus-crusted lesion.

Advocacy means you may have thought for yourself that the financial system is fetid with the reek of greed, tippy and stumble-prone with the foot rot of unconstrained commerce. As you observe the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer, you lodge objections. Perhaps you don’t actually think Kevin O’Leary would make a future compassionate Prime Minister of Canada? Eek! You stoop to advocate actual reform? You think the Leap Manifesto is accurate, intelligent, and doable? Arg!

Read, for example, the pipsqueak coterie of Globe & Mail columnists and writers devoted to shilling for big business: Margaret Wente (Attila the Nun) or one of the Heepish, lickspittle castrati who croon a big-biz tune day in and day out in the ROB, that notorious sinkhole of acquisitiveness, that squelchy fen of covetousness, that muculent bog of insatiableness, the Globe & Mail Report on Business. I mean “reporters” like Barrie McKenna and Eric Reguly. These class quislings are not reporters. They are shills, buzz-spreaders, who have kissed so much corporate ass their lips have worn off.

The main message of the Globe & Mail repeated ad nauseam Canadensorum is: leave the rich alone, but punish and tax underlings, destitute orphans and all low hoi polloi. Everyone can afford $700.00 a year for a TV signal! Who gives a Lexus fart about a clean environment! Lake Erie waves are lapping the main street in Woodstock? Who gives a Globe subscription about crap like that! Keep fracking!

Here is the corporate agenda promoted by the Globe and Mail as it seems to this reader: Concerning thankfully invisible minorities and poor white people: bleed ’em, soak ’em, diddle ’em, mulct ’em, overcharge ’em, swindle ’em, and screw ’em. Bribe Ottawa and Queen’s Park and fleece those whining middle-class Canadian sheep!

The Globe’s sworn duty, like Stephen Harper, is to demonize labour unions. Why those commies think big business ought to share part of their profits with the workers who make the products! As for CEOs who earn 100 million dollars a year, this humble reader has a thought: nobody should earn 100 million per year. If they do, punitive taxes ought to claw back the first 85 million. Even a raggedy mogul can scrape by on 15 million a year.

Remember, in the midst of Harper stirring prejudice against Muslim dress codes, after ten long years of Harper’s contempt for parliamentary procedure, who did the Globe and Mail urge Canadians to vote in as Prime Minister of Canada? Stephen Harper! Now there’s a newspaper in touch with the will of a country and with who best should lead us forward! A creepy economic moron who bet the whole Canadian farm on oil.

Here’s one reader, one advocate, who advocates reading the Toronto Star once in a while, to clear one’s head of the Globe and Mail’s blind pro-business advocacy.


Bill Casselman
April 18, 2016

Monday, February 15, 2016

Judge Scalia Dead? Good! May the Pudgy Bigot Stay Dead!


Ding! Dong! The Wicked Bitch is Dead!



An ancient Latin funeral tag states de mortuis nil nisi bonum ‘concerning the dead say nothing but good.' Would that were possible in the face of such a welcome death as the demise of Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia. Bent double with his blinkered bigotry, Scalia lowered a malignant fog of right-wing misinterpretation over twenty-first century examinations of the American Constitution.


Appointed by President Ronald “Ray-Gun” Reagan in 1986, for dozens of years, the evil, squalid, little fat man screamed imprecations against the Supreme Court's rulings on gun control, abortion, affirmative action, the death penalty, gay rights and religion. 

The greasy Scalia brought to the Supreme Court of the United States the narrow prejudices of a small-town lawyer. 

He hated blacks, women, fags, liberals, do-gooders, criminals and any legislator who might lessen the burdens and pains of ordinary American citizens by broadening or liberalizing our laws.


Scalia was the stereotypical angry fatty, so evident among right-wingers. What is it that makes partisan conservatives so narrow of sympathy? One of the reasons is their Christian piety. Scalia loved and worshipped the punitive, vindictive Jew god from the Old Testament, a miserable, senile delinquent who never tires of smighting humans. I’ll smite yah, old bully Jahweh screams throughout the bible, and, having smitten you, I’ll smite yah again.


Scalia beamed with glee when bad guys were executed by law. Scalia was a big fan of capital punishment, of hanging, shooting, lethal injection of criminals. The professional hater probably pined to bring back drawing and quartering, the spiked necklace, crucifixion and the iron maiden.


Scalia hated black people, so he got a double dose of deep gut satisfaction since by far the majority of criminals executed in the United States are black.

Here’s Scalia on one fault of capital punishment: “It should be noted at the outset that the dissent does not discuss a single case — not one — in which it is clear that a person was executed for a crime he did not commit. If such an event had occurred in recent years, we would not have to hunt for it; the innocent’s name would be shouted from the rooftops by the abolition lobby”(2006). Scalia wrote this during two decades where corrected police error and mistakes in the justice system showed that the number of Americans put to death wrongfully, in full innocence, rose into the hundreds. Scalia knew this and lied like a vicious schoolboy to advance his own hatreds. A slimy misanthrope he was, utterly devoid of moral stricture or any sense of fair play for fellow human beings.


Let us not forget the young American soldiers dead in Iraq because Scalia was instrumental in making George Bush president.


What a foul legacy of odium the hateful little pod has bequeathed to his America, where, through a long, spiteful existence brimming with malice, Scalia did everything he could to make life more difficult for Americans already inflicted with prejudice and discrimination. He was an ever vigilant son-of-a-bitch, combing through legislation to uncover new ways to make ordinary people uncomfortable, unemployable and open to as much deadly hostility as he could lower upon already stooped heads.

Some of the Ignorant, Ill-Natured, Foul-Hearted Things Scalia Said & Wrote  

Here are just two tidbits of his many, nasty, gay-hating rants: "Many Americans do not want persons who openly engage in homosexual conduct as partners in their business, as scoutmasters for their children, as teachers in their children's schools, or as boarders in their home," Scalia wrote. "They view this as protecting themselves and their families from a lifestyle that they believe to be immoral and destructive."  Scalia also wrote: "But I had thought that one could consider certain conduct reprehensible—murder, for example, or polygamy, or cruelty to animals—and could exhibit even 'animus' toward such conduct. Surely that is the only sort of 'animus' at issue here: moral disapproval of homosexual conduct." Being gay is therefore, according to that bigot, just like committing murder. Fuck you, Scalia, you R.C. homophobe!



There seemed to be no end to the crowd of people Scalia loathed, all of course with the imprimatur of Scalia’s Roman Catholic god, a shabby deity with whom, Scalia claimed, he alone was in constant and direct communication. In Scalia’s case, e-mail was eternal-mail.


Most of Scalia’s loathees had the bad taste to be born different from little roly-poly Antonin, a racist baboon swung down from some rural Italian tree.


How did our teeny Pinocchio-cum-Simon Legree feel about American black people? Well, read what he said: There are those who contend that it does not benefit African-Americans to get them into the University of Texas, where they do not do well, as opposed to having them go to a less-advanced school, a slower-track school where they do well,” he said. “One of the briefs pointed out that most of the black scientists in this country don't come from schools like the University of Texas. They come from lesser schools where they do not feel that they're being pushed ahead in classes that are too fast for them.”


You creeps who attended Scalia's funeral want to celebrate that racist nonsense, just because Scalia is dead? Wake up! Open your hearts!


Scalia properly belonged in some run-down Arizona meeting hall of Roman Catholic Knights of Columbus, about to riot through Main Street and shoot dead the dirty Protestants who, papists knew, were meeting in the garage and planning to burn down all the nice Catholic homes in town. Scalia loved guns, loved killing animals, was a hunter all his life, loved the NRA and promoted lax fire-arm regulation as one of America's eternal blessings. Like the gun-happy dwarf, everyone in the United States should own dozens of rifles and revolvers. Now there's a deep thought. What a total anus the randy little fucker was!

Scalia’s comic-book paranoid delusions might have proved harmless except for the fact that he was elevated, far beyond his legal competence, to the Supreme Court of the United States.


Friends with monsters like Dick Cheney have no excuse. Among the many low points of this ugly, diminutive monkey-grinder’s circus time at the Supreme Court was his finagling of the 2008 decision declaring that the Constitution confers on individuals a right to own a gun. "We hold that the Second Amendment guarantees an individual right to have and use arms for self defense in the home," Scalia said, striking down the District of Columbia's ban on handguns.


The number of American kids shot in the head and mothers’ wombs blasted open by shotguns that is the direct fault of Antonin Scalia deserves to be totalled up before any obituary sentimentalities are spewed forth by right-wing Catholic priests presiding over his burial (after, of course, such priestlets have finished buggering their altar-boy-of-the-week).

The amount of sheer harm, of deep life terror, of soul-rending heart-break that this rotten little man caused to Afro-Americans, to gay people, to young women in need of an abortion, to countless other citizens looking for gun control or simple fair treatment is not able to be calculated on misery’s computer.

With no training in science whatsoever, the malignant toad Scalia also knew all the secrets of the universe. The rotund lump of toxic suet declared that Charles Darwin's evolution, one of mankind's greatest insights, was a "bad guess." One must admit he had gall. So Darwin was bullshit, as opposed to the rabbinical fairy tales which infest the Jewish Book of Genesis and have received the Good Pope-Keeping Seal of Approval from Scalia's Roman Catholic Church, a benevolent entity whose Inquisition spent centuries burning women at the stake (more than a million souls fried dead). Now there's valid authority for you, Antonin, you putz!


900,000 world biologists who have studied and continue to advance and improve Darwin's original work state that evolution stands as a fact of earth history. But Scalia knew it was all a fraud. This obdurate certainty in the face of proof is a classic sign of the quack, as former New York Times award-winning science reporter Martin Gardiner shows in his still necessary book, Fads & Fallacies in the Name of Science. The quack proclaims ever that he alone knows the truth, that all other mortals wander errant and clueless through the fogged labyrinth of knowledge, and that others (the educated American left) plot against him constantly.


The rightwing know-nothings' and big-business greedsters' praise of Scalia's interpretations of the American Constitution are self-serving, pathetic and devoid of legal gravitas. He was no giant of exegesis. What Scalia was doing with his "originalism" was suggesting that Scalia alone knew what the writers of the Constitution intended. Other modern readers of the document could not possibly figure out what our ancient national guide papers wanted to say. This is not mere arrogance on Scalia's part, although it certainly is that. Scalia's delvings purport to show that the framers of American law were all rightwing fruitcakes like the fanatic mick Scalia. No historians of America's founding agree with Scalia. Not one.

A whole new, young generation of American legal scholarship has averred that Scalia's perversions of Jeffersonian intent shall not stand at law and will not pass time's verificatory tests. Thus, bad cess to the gloating cryptofascists who lurk in every stale cranny of Washington hoping to enrich the rich, further demonize unions and stop all chances of lower and middle class people sharing American wealth with the bloated Mammons for whom Scalia was the pipsqueak voice-box.


Whether Scalia will be entombed, inhumed, insarcophagused, bronze-urned or made into a large meat-lovers' delight at Satan's pizzeria is of no import to me. What is valuable is that books need to be and will be written about the fecal stains spritzed on the American Constitution by the verbal diarrhea of that horrid dago zealot.




written by Bill Casselman Feb. 15, 2016