Some interesting news over here today, Richard, Lord John Wakeham, who among
other things was on the board of Enron, 80,000 pounds per year, as, I
believe, a non-executive director, but who too, among his other little jobs,
was chairman of the Press Complaints Commission, has been forced to stand
down, altho' he swears it's only temporary, because of the Enron link.
It's a lovely connection, wouldn't you say, freedom of speech and British
domestic politics and US corrupt corporations. It could almost make one
think we live in a world run by liars and fraudsters. Almost like a global
Hollywood.
Question: what has the state of your stocks to do with any poetry list?
(N.B. I am taking it that you do understand what the Press Complaints
Commission is. I ask this with tender solicitude, as one knows that US
intelligence has problems with the Other, as evinced in Somalia, thank god
for those Malaysian soldiers who rescued your special forces, despite the
lies that are to be perpetrated in another US falsity, by a Brit director as
well, Black Hawk Down indeed)
Best
Dave
David Bircumshaw
Leicester, England
Home Page
A Chide's Alphabet
Painting Without Numbers
http://homepage.ntlworld.com/david.bircumshaw/index.htm
----- Original Message -----
From: "Richard Dillon" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Thursday, January 31, 2002 3:57 PM
Subject: Re: respect for english
> Here, George, is the REAL imperialism. It all started with Imperial
Margarine.
> Then it expanded to the Imperial automobile, touted by Frank Sinatra
> and Ricardo Montalban ["And it luxuriates in Corinthian leather."]
> and topped off with the Motown pre-Hip acapella quartet, Little
> Anthony and The Imperials, ["Tears On My Pillow"].
>
> Employing these front organizations, the descendents of Alexander
> "The Imperial" Hamilton swept over the planet, readying for that
> fateful hour when their ancient enemy, Brilliant Osman, would strike
> in revenge.
>
> Every night, Mr. Jones, with our manipulative encouragement, cries
> into his pillow in jibbering guilt and bit-lip consternation at what
> he and his ancestors have brought to the continuing unfoldment of
> their belittling one-sided abusive thrill-kill use-em-up
> tax-em-til-they-bleed steal-it-with-a-screed trick-em-with-a-meem
> Pepsified slavery of -what?- 5, count 'em, 6 billion transmigrating
> soul travellers. Every day, then, his stock falls and mine rises
> because he doesn't own the ad that he reads on his own wall.
>
> [Outside the cave, blinding sunlight.]
>
> Zo! We are in agreement! Let's storm the citadels of the ultimate
> Imperial Power: GAWD!
>
> Down with LaRouche! Kill Satan! Declaw the Kat!
>
>
>
> >When I sent my last mail, the spell-checker suggested that I should
replace
> >Kafka with KFC. Isn't that sad?
> >______________________________________________
> >George Simmers
> >Snakeskin Poetry Webzine is at
> >http://www.snakeskin.org.uk
>
>
> --
>
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