Could mental illness be infectious?

From The Times via RobotWisdom:

"...Chlamydia is already known to cause considerable human misery. Not only is one strain of the micro-organism responsible for Britain's 'epidemic' of sexually transmitted disease, but another variant can cause a serious respiratory-tract infection similar to Sars."

"Now comes the surprising finding by a German research team that chlamydia may be linked with schizophrenia. Dr Rudolf Wank, an immunologist at the Ludwig-Maximilians-University in Munich, has reported recently that schizophrenic patients are much more likely to be infected with one or more variants of chlamydia. More importantly, he found that targeting the bug with specially treated immune cells improved the patients' symptoms dramatically..."

Could mental illness be infectious? - The Times, September 30, 2005

Dr Rudolf Wank.

Seventies celebrity deathmatch

Shamlessly ripping off something I heard on the radio the other day, a question:

Who'd win a fight between Starsky and Hutch and The Sweeney?

Not as obvious as it may appear. John Thaw and Terry off of minder might seem at first glance to be a bit tasty, but they're also a bit out of shape. S & H have, for my money, the moves...

Okay, not exactly bad chat, but if this works we can have a head-to-head with Fred West and Ian Huntley later on.

You're saying I'm a fucking daftie...

Since you asked nicely :-)

For the sake of posterity, here's the old version...



At first I changed it to this...



But then I checked the original quote...



So I fixed the banner to this...

Bad Bad Chat

Bad Bad Chat

And what's this use of 'effing' in the title of this blog all about?

Could I make a special request that this kind of fucking pussy-minded lily-livered nancy-boyed fuck-me-up-my flabby-prolapsed-varicosed-distended-pink ringpiece language gets removed?

Either it's bad chat or it's not. I really don't give a cunting paedophile teeny cunt-lick whether it red-flags on Net Nanny or not...

12 year-old hugs (with touching),

Tups

X

The Attempted Neoconning of the Jetsons

Hey my mofo pomo hang-dogs... I was drifting thru the net wondering what to Bad Bad Chat when I came across this clearly jokey piece holding up the 60s cartoon "The Jetsons" as a piece of sci-fi social commentary:

"In the Jetsons' world of the future, people are pretty much the same as they are today, except that they have more gizmos and far more leisure time. There are families, kids in school, teens in love, workers complaining about bosses, rock stars, and spouses assuming agreed-upon specializations. They love good food, so long as it is made very fast. They have pets. They shop. They are buffeted by fashion trends. They enjoy sports."

Yeah, they did everything that the people who wrote the cartoon and the people who watched the cartoon enjoyed doing.

"That's the future: it is an extension of today, just as today is an extension of everything that followed before. There is no dramatic hinge of history that causes all rules to change, as socialist or fascist or other totalitarian ideologies imagine. It is just the same old struggle playing itself out in different ways."

I'm presuming form this that the writer feels the same way about the past... After all, The Flintstones had a very similar view of life... Presumably therefore stone age humans had the same desire for gossip, fast food and pets as your average modern-day Americanian. Err....

"The whole show is a wonderful commentary on how this consuming, spending, bourgeois, capitalist society is impervious to militarization."

Woah there... The claim here is that because we don't see war, conflict, exploitation, social problems etc. on the Jetsons, that these things won't exist in our neoconned future. I don't buy that. All these things could well exist in the "perfect future". All our rulers would have to do is to ensure that we never hear about them.

"Some may criticize this cartoon for idealizing a society based on middle-class values, commerce, technology, petty human problem solving. But for anyone who loves freedom and human flourishing, the Jetsons' attachment to technology and domestic life are to be preferred to nationalist hysteria and the destruction of war."

This really got me thinking. There's a section of the right-wing who complain that the media is always full of bad news. Where is the balance, they ask. Where is the good news. But that's the problem... Not reporting bad news doesn't mean that the bad news isn't there. I find it worryingly easy to imagine a future where most of society lives happily through the simple expediant of ignoring anything bad that might be happening elsewhere...

"Perhaps the greatest triumph of this show is that it managed to make peaceful bourgeois living look as exciting in cartoons as it is in real life."

Exciting? Bollocks. The Jetsons lasted for two seasons. How many seasons has The Simpsons lasted? I rest my case.

Check out the Mises Blog for some great chat on The Jetsons article.

Pregnant statues

Who really wants to see a bust of a pregnant burd on a plinth?

Oh...it's not a bust. Pardon me. Start again.

Putting the mental image of conception night aside, who really wants to see a statue of a gruesomely handicapped pregnant burd on a plinth? It's bad enough seeing fully-fingered real models walking amongst us every day.

Wearing proof of insemination like a badge of pride grinds my fucking gears. Who wants to look at their big, distended,
veiny bellies?

No one wants to look at mine, so why should they get special
treatment?

Take A Pop At Me

Hey dudes... it's been a while since we rapped. Finding something that's worth the effort of Bad Bad Chatting ain't as easy at it looks. George W? Sitting duck. His spineless, gutless, utterly corrupt abortions of advisors? No fun at all. The endless flag-waving, twinkie-munching, Bible-frotters who still say he's doing a bang-up job? Been done. As for the other end... Sorry, man, but peacenic hippy apparachiks sharing a stage with women-hating religo-monkeys who wanna drag us all back the fourteenth century are just too big a target. So what's to be done? I reckon we need to blame everyone else. The normal people who take up the middle ground. I mean, we're the one's who let the mucho-stupido extremist fuckwitts get away with causing so much havoc. Why? Because we're too busy watching teevee, snicking at the dafties and trawling the web for post-ironic clips of retards dancing to retropop. It's all our fault. It's all my fault. Take a pop at me. I deserve it.

Women like jerks

This weekend Edna Welthorpe, my partner-in-crimes-against-nature, read a book that had a 15th century blind girl getting herself pregnant by the first available asshat dandy jerk who came along in order to avoid an arranged marriage to the kind of dependable, smelly, loose-fisted prick parents of blind girls in the 15th century thought would make a good match. Still with me? Good.

I foolishly suggested that women face this sort of choice all the time - "boring ass vs. exciting jerk". I idiotically pointed out that it's a well recognised evolutionary strategy for females to pair with dependable males but to secretly seek out sex from alluring outsiders - presumably to ensure the best future for their offspring.

Edna seems to translate this as me saying "women like jerks". Where she got that from I do not know. (Although I may have said that jokingly. Once or twice. A week. For two years.)

She wants me to say it publicly, so she can skewer me with her razor-sharp analysis and rapier-like wit. So here goes.

Women like jerks.

Think about it. Who gets lusted after? Sure, women might think that quiet guy at school/the office/on teevee is cute, but when it comes down to bumping uglies, who do they drop their kecks for nine times out of ten? Quiet-boy or the roguish fop with a glint in his eye?

And sure, the lovable rogue might turn out to be a top guy - just as the quiet type might turn out to be an utter nob... But practically every time the rogue gets the girl. Why? Well, he's probably the one that actually speaks to her to be sure, as opposed to freaking her out by staring alternately at her tits/the floor for three hours before sheepishly wandering over to get a proper look down the poor girl's top while coming out with some gut-wrenching, labia-clamping, abortion of a line...

But in every instance that counts, it's irrelevant who is nice or nasty - because it's the first guy who comes out with the right chat at the right time, no matter how insincere or nauseating, who's gonna get the freedom of that girl's pants for as long as it takes to lose his mess.

Women like the chat... They like having their egos massaged and bruised alternately until they are frothing at the gash... it doesn't matter in the slightest whether the guy is on the level or just making up a bunch of feelings and pretending that he has them.

And sure, the girl may delude herself that the guy is being genuine... She might fantasise about having the same nice, warm, emotionally fulfilling times as she'd have with the quiet guy.... She just as likely might want a quick & dirty shag (in which case, fair do's, but my argument still stands)...

Ultimately, way more often than not, she'll go with the jerk.

So how come women end up with nice guys? Well, the jerks either don't stick around or eventually get the elbow (when the girl gets her self-respect back) ... And in the long run, sure, nice guys do get shagged & men and women do have nurturing, mutually-fulfilling and wonderfully loving relationships.

Except, of course, if things get boring or flat or difficult or distracted and a relationship ends or infidelity rears it's head... Who is she gonna get involved with? The quiet guy, or the first asshat dandy jerk who tells her she's almost pretty?

Ask yourself.

And hey, before you get all uppity and hormonal about this post, remember this... Am I going to get more or less shags for having written it?

Over to you, Edna...

William Shatner for President

Today is the fourth anniversary of 7/11 9/11. It's the fourth anniversary of the leader of the free world reacting to news that his country was under attack by reading "The Pet Goat" along with a bunch of seventh graders



It would be crass and inappropriate to joke about such a momentus event*, so I'll say nothing except that the world would be a better place if William Shatner was prez of the Earth instead of W. As Fametracker puts it:

"...the only way that [anyone] could ever be even remotely as cool as Shatner is if he'd spent the first half of his career flying around the cosmos banging space broads on Styrofoam rocks."

'Course, W had no interest in flying or rocks in the first half of his career. No siree.



(* i.e. I can't find a decent webpage of 911 jokes)

Ant and Dec

Why do we voluntarily call them 'Ant' and 'Dec'? It's like being co-opted into some kinda high school too-cool club where the leaders get to choose their own nicknames.

The kinda school where girls are called 'Decca' and 'Tanith' and the sacred rules regarding the non-engagement of the sexes is cast aside. The kinda school where Bacchanalian rites of passage are part of the compulsory 3rd year curriculum with A-level petting a popular option.

The kinda school where the kids' cars outnumber the teachers and bullying doesn't happen because it's a bit louche.

The kind of school that you didn't go to.

'And' and 'Dec'? Not on my watch, buddy-boy.

Why not go for it and call them 'cunt' and 'cunt'? I think the public would get used to it. After all: does anybody care which one's which?

Nathan Hates Fags

You gotta love the internet. I mean, any two-bit, know-nothing, ignorant, bigoted asshole with a wart on his or her big hairy fanny about some topic du jour which they clearly haven't got the slightest clue about can get online and wax on it as if they were some kind of government-appointed expert and as if there was any good reason that any other sad sack of crap should give a thimbleful of monkey-jizz for what they say anyway.

But enough about me.

I want to talk about Nathan Tabor, the USican equivalent of a young Tory, founder and editor of "The Conservative Voice", and failed congressional wannabe.

This fine upstanding member of the community's latest column is called "Charles Darwin disagrees with homosexuality". A boy, is it a doozy. I'm not sure how Nathan can know what Charles Darwin agrees and disagrees with, Charles having been dead for about a hundred years and all. Maybe Nathan used some sort of Ouija board. I mean, Nathan is a fine upstanding born-again Christian. (Erm, I think he is. I didn't look that up. Didn't need to. But maybe that explains it, because Xtians in the USA are more likely to believe in all that paranormal crap than non-born againers... But I digress.)

No, well, anyway, whatever Charles might have thought if he'd been around to ask, we can be damn sure about one thing. Nathan doesn't like homosexuals. Oh no sir.

And no wonder. As Nathan says:

As I write this column on the afternoon of Labor Day 2005, a handful of homosexuals in the French Quarter are holding a scaled-down "Decadence Parade,"... With dead bodies and human excrement floating in flooded streets throughout the devastated city, these hardy partiers refuse to be deterred.

The bastards. But Nathan gives more reasons why he, er... Charles, er... God, er... he hates fags homosexualists:

Homosexual males live, on average, to the ripe old age of 42...

Not only are homosexuals seemingly blind to their moral conflict with Christianity, they are also blind to their natural conflict with our modern secular god, Science...

Most homosexuals reject God so they can't claim they were "created" the way they are...

From this we can conclude that most agree with the tenets of Darwin's evolutionary theory...

If evolutionists accept homosexuals, the whole Darwinian argument falls apart.

And there we have it... With one fell stroke, Nathan - who previously has given the world no reason to believe that he knows the slightest thing about biology or evolution, brings the whole edifice crashing down about our ears. Yup, all those thousands of University Professors, researchers and students doing biology based on evolutionary theory can go home, 'cause the existence of poofs disproves evolution entirely. Apparently.

But wait... I mean Nathan is a Christian and all, and a journalist (supposedly), so you'd think he might let these biologists and evolutionists (and perhaps the odd gayer) speak for themselves...

Naaaaah, of course he doesn't And why should he worry? He's got a hot wife (no wonder his member is so upstanding!), jesus in his heart, and a target audience that couldn't give a toss about Nathan not knowing his ass from a hole in the ground when it comes to biology or evolution.

They don't care that Nathan's figure for the average age of deaths of homosexuals is a piece of hate-mongering crap. They positively do not want to know that evolutionary theory has no problem whatsoever explaining the existence of homosexuality. (Picking curtains? Modelling tank tops? Writing drama? Helloooooooo... Talk about Utility Functions).

What I want to know is... If Nathan lies about what evolutionary theory says and what scientists believe, then how can God love Nathan?

Somebody needs a cigarette...

Alright. Fuck, bum, jobby, fart.

This isn't much better: Was reading the last of the obits for the 7/7 victims in the Guardian today and I had to remind myself that this happened in London. How come all the people who died were saints? By my highly scientific reckoning, the cunt quotient on the tube during Thusday morning rush hour must have been at least 7.9. Where were all the dead cunts?

The logical conclusion is that, when travelling on the tube, make sure you find a cunt to sit next to.

"Think safe: Think cunt."

Where are the posts?

"Hey," he said, "let's start a blog". Yeah, I thought, that'll be really rad. Like, us and all of our kewl m8tes can write like, witty and cutting diatribes about the nihilistic ennui of twenty-first century post-industrial European culturenob gags and our whacko Armenian cousins and stuff and we'll be famous all over the web and people will want to come to our house and watch movies and smoke beer and maybe even star in our homemaid glory-hole animal pr0n...

But so far, nothing.

So, I thought I'd think about something to write in the meantime. And I couldn't think of anything exciting that happened recently.

Except did you see that hurricane? Wasn't that kewl? You see, the great thing about hurricanes is that they fill up media space in what is otherwise usually a slow news-time. That and that all natural disasters, they bring out the best and worst in people pretty damn quickly. Yup, watch people's response to a disaster, and you can tell a lot of useful things about them.

Take the Liberals for example. I mean, their response has been outrageous. Look at the way they gave El Presidente (all hail!) a hard time for playing the fiddleguitar while RomeNOLA (I do love the way they call it NOLA) burnflooded. I mean, that's total bullcrap and excuse my French. No, the truth is that the picture was taken just before things got really bad in NOLA - by which time our glorious leader was going to sort out the problems in Louisiana by going from California to Washington by way of Texas. So I hope that sets the record straight.

Welcome to bad, bad chat...

It'll take a while to get up and running. For now, check out the Ship of Fools: The Laugh Judgment: "the funniest and most offensive religious jokes".

I can also recommend googling for Godess Bunny.

Home grown inappropriate, offensive and uneccessary (but strangely compelling and insightful) commentary will develop as time goes on.