Wednesday, September 28, 2016

Don't Snub My Prime Minister, you snotty aloof little Prince!

Monarchists, You Need to See a Shrink.

News story: Saturday, September 24, 2016

During a royal visit to British Columbia, the prime minister of Canada, Justin Trudeau, squatted down on the airport runway to acknowledge the young son of Britain’s Prince William and his wife Kate Middleton, the Duchess of Cambridge. The little boy turned away from Trudeau’s high-five and refused any contact with the prime minister.

Yes, Britain’s Prince George who so rudely snubbed my Prime Minster Justin Trudeau is only three years old. But what a spoiled little snot that toddler is!

The boy’s every royal moment has been, since birth, bathed in disdain. English royalty’s is a sneering hauteur, a condescending haughtiness that queens and kings do better than any humans on earth. The royals are masters of disdain. From the first time this snooty princeling was nanny-deposited in his bassinet, on a downy pillow of point d'Alençon lace with gauzy cradle curtains to protect his tiny person from being breathed on by peasants, this kid knew he was the Almighty’s gift to waiting humanity.

Did you know that Prince George’s bassinet was woven of exquisite wickerwork by blind Anglican nuns on a small island in the River Thames. Okay, I’m exaggerating. But only a little bit.

Not one farthing of the obscene wealth of the Windsor family was earned. It is pelf, ill-gotten gain. The Queen of England’s wealth reflects generations of boodle taken from the earnings and scanty wages and harvests of innumberable farm labourers. The royal family owns whole counties of Britain, while children starve in central London.

Wee Georgie has been cossetted by nannies, pampered by servile housemaids, abject footmen, fondled and dandled by a clustering circus of  cringers, stooped brown-nosers, tongue-weary lickspittles, low-born lackeys, unwashed flunkies, ignoble minions, purse-lipped valets, scuttlers and butlers: a vast legion of born toadies and anus-hungry asskissers who roam palaces seeking moments when they may abase themselves before royal personages.

Exterior to the velvet chambers of royalty teem in adoring crowds the natural-born slaves who are monarchists. They want to bow down, scrape and obey in subservience kings and queens. Crowds of creepy Canadian monarchists, some tugging their forelocks as imperial persons passed by, thronged every venue at which Prince William and his fecund bride appeared.

So far little Prince George’s only throne is his hoity-toity. But just imagine the lad’s curling lip if he reaches manhood.

Monarchists are essentially “fans.” Overidentification by the fan with the adored star or royal potentate has elements that are pathological. Anyone acquainted with the literature of psychiatric sociology knows that fandom is toxic. Most fans are antisocial loners who have failed as whole persons. They have no life, few friends, often no compelling reason to get up in the morning, so they litter their forlorn existence with scrapbooks full of pictures of Tom Cruise or sequential photo-histories of Justin Bieber’s haircuts. Obsession and hysteria are the loathsome twins who accompany most fans through a dreary and protracted continuance of being almost alive.

The cliché cry “Get a life!” seems appropriate. Instead, O Fans, I beseech you, seek vivid interaction with responsive fellow beings; don’t slouch in the dank grot of a dark apartment, rubbing your crotch as you gaze stunned at videoclips of some illiterate floozy’s breasts or the dick-wagging of some brainless braggart rippling his pectoral muscles while he disguises the stark fact that he has the I.Q. of a shucked mollusc.

Britain used to have a pubic official named The Master of Lunacy, who decreed whether a gibbering transgressor should be hauled off to an asylum such as Bedlam.  In the lamentable absence of a lunacy master, fandom and undue dwelling on royalty ought to be listed in the DSM-5, the latest edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, published every now and then by the American Psychiatric Association.

As for little Prince George ─ that sniffish child needs a light pat on the bum and a reminder that persons other than those in a royal household exist too. 

Wednesday, August 24, 2016

Is Trump a Sociopath or Just a Braggart Dick-Wagger?

You be the Judge! Take the Trump Test right now!

Donald Trump calls himself “a salesman.” Most psychiatrists would call Trump a sociopath. And several have, in print and on camera. Most con men like Donald Trump are sociopaths. Here is a serviceable definition of a sociopath drawn from the web: “A person with a personality disorder manifesting itself in extreme antisocial attitudes and behavior and a lack of conscience.”

Now, you be the judge, gentle reader. Here’s our important American voters’ test for today. Do any of the following traits and deleterious characteristics apply to Donald Trump? Our little probe takes but a moment of your busy day. Read it.

20 Characteristics of a Sociopath (from the internet)

1.     Fun, charming and entertaining. Quite polite when meeting new people.
2.    Impressively talented, knowledgeable or skilled, or lead us to believe they are.
3.    Have profound perception; later it’s scary, they seem to read our minds like telepathy.
4.    Are easily offended and vain. They fluster and bluster when offended and lash out.
5.    Lie always. About all things – .01% of what they say might be true – such as their shoe size.
6.    They believe they are better than everyone – and hold others in contempt.
7.    Crave a good reputation. Defend their reputation with outrageous lies; see #5.
8.    Crave status and power through possessions & money.
9.    Have delusions of fame and importance.
10.Mimic our human emotions of affection, love, concern.
11.  Have no capacity for care, concern or love. They are faking it. They imitate us.
12. Think of themselves as victims. They can cry fake tears at the drop of a hat.
13. Are sexually promiscuous and often simultaneously avoid sex with a primary partner.
14. Do anything they want to anyone.
15. Think their prey should be grateful.
16. Take pride in their scams. Run several scams simultaneously. Many women; many men.
17. Believe everyone deserves what they do to them.
18.Smear their victims when things end loudly, publicly, online and in court.
19. Sociopaths like short-term goals. They say whatever they need to say in order to get what they want at the moment. In an instant they change direction, having spotted something or anyone they momentarily perceive as a better or more exciting opportunity. That’s not just because psychopaths are shallow, but also because they’re greedy and power-hungry.
20.     Sociopaths’ chief feeling is contempt for others. Meeting new people, they do a cost-benefit analysis. Are these new “marks” targets, accomplices or obstacles? Targets are used as accomplices, and then discarded as obstacles once their usefulness has expired.

Is Donald Trump a match for each antisocial, psychopathic trait outlined above? You, voter, be the judge.

The Donald as Con-Man
The con artist inherent in Trump follows all the traits observed through history for the conniving fraudster.

Frist and foremost for the crooked salesman part of the con man is: tell the possible customer or “mark” exactly what the mark wants to hear. Trump’s core voters ─ uneducated, grade-three dropout, white trash males ─ have one essential requirement of the con-man. He must tell the losers what they are desperate to hear and that is “You are a loser yes, but it is somebody else’s fault.”

Poor widdle you, you unemployed, alcoholic, doped-up nincompoop, you’ve been hard-done-by. It’s the government’s fault that you dropped out of grade five and started mainlining with Ajax and Old Dutch Cleanser. After all, you just wanted to “get clean.” Never learned to read? Who needs learning? Only faggots read. But you’re a maaaan.

Brief Detour to Masculinity Mansion
The best definition of machismo that I ever heard came from a traveller I met in a Central American republic who was explaining to me the hypertrophic Latin American “macho” male response to every imagined slight against one’s maleness. Memorably he said, “When you have no car, no house, no money, no education, nothing, when all you’ve got is your penis, that cock becomes the centre of your psychological being.”

Exaggerated male responses to bruised honour and “my worth as a man,” are all explicable by this shallow braggart’s dick-wagging.

Or, maybe you’re a 400-pound damsel who just birthed her seventh child and now you’re having a hard time feeding all those little mouths. Ah, that’s okay. You can’t help being a sluttish brood sow. And, after all, this is America. “I can have as many chillun’ as I wants. And duh gub-mint gots tuh feed ‘em.” That’s right, Fertilla the Populator, you breed ‘em and welfare money from my taxes will feed ‘em!

As you digest the true nature of Donald Trump, keep this in mind too: hundreds educators of good will and of historical political knowledge have said this: “Hillary Clinton is the most qualified person to run for president in the entire history of the United States.”