Sunday, December 27, 2009

Nowy program Stronnictwa Demokratycznego: Noworoczny prezent dla polskiego narodu

Tuskokracja czy Kaczogród? To jedyny wybór, jaki pozostał polskim wyborcom. Platforma i PIS podzielili polską scenę polityczną miedzy siebie, a wysoki próg wyborczy razem z ustawą o finansowaniu partii politycznych faworyzujacą największe partie, nie daje szansy innym na przejęcie władzy.

W tej dla polskiej demokracji groźnej sytuacji jedna partia zamierza przełamać polityczny pat. Odnowione nowo narodzone SD, pod przywództwem Pawła Piskorskiego, z Andrzejem Olechowskim jako kandydatem na prezydenta, wzmocnione o zupełnie nowy program, chce uchodzić za umiarkowaną, centrową partię. A czy nią w rzeczywistości jest? CDHN postanowił sprawdzić.

Cygara czy Wino? Jakie łapówki przynoszą najkorzystniejsze skutki? Na zjazdach SD ostro się debatuje.


CDHN: Witamy Daniela Świerzba, pośrednika nieruchomości wschodniopodkarpackiego SD i współautora nowego programu SD.
Daniel Świerzb: Dzień dobry. Niestety przewodniczący Piskorski nie mógł przyjechać bo miał się spotkać ze swoją matką na jakimś cmentarzu, czy w jakiejś opuszczonej piwnicy, nie pamiętam dokładnie.
CDHN: Premier Tusk zaproponował zmienić ustrój polski na bardziej kanclerski. Co SD na to?
DŚ: Zaproponujemy, by usunąć senat i zastąpić go Izbą Posiadaczy Ziemskich, gdzie miejsca będą przyznawane różnym partiom w zależności od ilości posiadanych nieruchomości.
CDHN: Krytycy tej propozycji mówią, że taka ustawa będzie faworyzowała właśnie pańską partię, która posiada nieruchomości o wartości 100 mill zł..
DŚ: A co z tego? Przecież zapraszamy wszystkie partie do kupienia nieruchomości od nas. Na wiosennym targu naszej agencji - przepraszam, na wiosennej konferencji naszej partii - będziemy mieli piękną wystawę poświęconą sprzedaży najekskluzywniejszych lokalizacji w Polsce.

Daniel Świerzb (po środku): "Odrolniłem swoją pierwszą działkę!"


CDHN: Zmieńmy temat. Czy SD uważa, że rząd podjął wystarczająco szerokie działania, aby zapobiec świńską grypę?
DŚ: Nie zrobili absolutnie nic! Grupa utrzymująca władzę po prostu zamieniła się w grypę utrzymującą władzę. To, że rząd naraził na szwank, czy może lepiej: naraził na śwink! - zdrowie i życie i szlachetną miłość do leków polskiego narodu jest po prostu nie do przyjęcia! Stronnictwo Demokratyczne chcę sprowadzać najlepsze farmaceutyki z zagranicy. Fala ciężarówek pełnych medykamentów przekroczy polskie granice. Darmowe lekarstwa dla wszystkich!
CDHN: Ale nie wiadomo, czy te nowe, słabo przetestowane leki są zupełnie bezpieczne. Było już parę przypadków za granicą, gdzie pacjenci umarli po stosowaniu takich leków.
DŚ: SD zapewni jakość sprowadzonych leków. Nasz kandydat na prezydenta Pan Andrzej Olechowski osobiście będzie sprawdzał wszystkie dostawy!
CDHN: Apropos Andrzeja Olechowskiego: kandydat pańskiej partii na prezydenta powszechnie uchodzi za leniwego i mało pracowitego. Sam się zresztą przyznał, że nie lubi wstawać rano i z tego powodu już odmawiał różne występy telewizyjne i radiowe. A okazało się, jak dokładniej przyjrzeliśmy się programowi zdrowotnemu SD, że tu tylko w małym stopniu chodzi o leki działające przeciw grypie. W o wiele większych ilościach ma być sprowadzona amfetamina. Amfetamina, która ma tą zaletę, że idealnie nadaje się do utrzymywania w przytomności i przeciwdziałania lenistwu pana Andrzeja Olechowskiego podczas kampanii prezydenckiej.
DŚ: Jak Pan śmie podważać aktywność Olechowskiego? To jest nadmiernie aktywny człowiek, któremu bardzo zależy na odrolnieniu - przepraszam - odnowieniu Polski.

Olechowski i Piskorski: Stawiamy na przejrzystość!

CDHN: Kilka miesięcy temu wybuchła sprawa hazardowa. Lobbyści z branży hazardowej spotykali się z czołowymi politykami PO na cmentarzu. W jaki sposób pańska partia chcę walczyć z korupcją?
DŚ: Usuniemy dzień zmarłych. Jak cmentarze są przeludnione, wiadomo, że tworzą idealne warunki dla lobbystów i korupcyjnych polityków, bo nikt nie zauważa lobbystów w takim tłumie. Na cmentarzach będą obowiązywały karty członkowskie.

CDHN: A ludzie którzy po prostu chcą odwiedzić zmarłych krewnych i osoby im bliskie?
DŚ: A czy to moja sprawa? Gdyby ci ludzie bardziej dbali o swoją babcię, może babcia nie trafiłaby na cmentarz w ogóle!
CDHN: Jakie jest stanowisko SD w sprawie przemocy wobec kobiet. PO chciała, aby mężczyźni którzy biją żonę byli zmuszeni do natychmiastowego opuszczenia mieszkania.
DŚ: Jesteśmy za, ale nie chcemy, aby mężczyźni trafili na ulicę. Tam też mogą przecież bić kobiety, na przykład prostytutki czy babcie sprzedające kwiaty. Nie, my chcemy ich umieszczać w hotelach dla nich przeznaczonych. Już mamy takie domy zbudowane.
CDHN: I fakt, że te domy znajdują się na obszarach nieruchomości posiadanych przez pańską partię, to czysty przypadek?
DŚ: A co Pan sugeruje? Wiadomo, że jak leniwe żony robią awanturę z powodu małego klapsa, to ktoś musi dbać o wypędzonych mężczyzn.
CDHN: W polskich mediach już było głośno o poparciu SD dla związków partnerskich dla homoseksualistów. Czy taka obyczajowo dosyć odważna postawa mieści się w programie rzekomo centrowej partii?
DŚ: To drobne nieporozumienie. Nie chodzi nam o związki partnerskie, lecz związki zawodowe.
CDHN: Dla homoseksualistów?
DŚ: Tak. Wszyscy pracownicy o wymienionej orientacji będą zobowiązani założyć związek w swoim zakładzie. Tam nie będą przeszkadzać zdrowym pracownikom i na dodatek lepiej mieć wszystkich zboków w jednym miejscu. Kiedy na przykład dochodzi do masowego zwolnienia, można zwalniać całą kupę gejowskich zatrudnionych en bloc.

"Chcemy tworzyć nową kultura polityczną w Polsce, opartą na otwartości, obywatelskości i merytoryczności. "


CDHN: Parytety na listach wyborczych: sprawiedliwość czy zamach na demokrację?
DŚ: Kwestia deficytu kobiet w polskiej polityce należy połączyć z ustawą hazardową. SD jako jedyna partia chce przeprowadzić stuprocentową liberalizację branży hazardowej. Wynika z różnych badań, że mężczyźni są znacznie nadreprezentowani wśród osób uzależnionych od hazardu. Jeśli - i to nasza propozycja - nie ingerujemy w działania tej branży, wręcz ułatwimy im działalność różnymi ulgami itd, wiadomo, że coraz więcej mężczyzn stanie się niewolnikami hazardu, nienadającymi się do żadnej pracy, nie mówiąc już o urzędach politycznych! W miejscu rozbitych mężczyzn wejdzie masa kobiet do władz partii, unowocześniając polską politykę!
CDHN: A SD naprawdę dba o równouprawnienie, a nie o własne nieruchomości, gdzie już w tej chwili budują się ogromne hale hazardowe.
DŚ: (śmiech) A skoro Pan jest tak zainteresowany naszymi nieruchomościami, może zainteresowałoby Pana to, że też jesteśmy w trakcie budowania podziemnego obozu dla kłopotliwych dziennikarzy i politycznych przeciwników. Tam powstaje też boisko do piłki nożnej, gdzie planujemy wsadzić Tuska i całą bandę jego grających w piłkę partyjnych kumpli. Tylko, że nie damy im piłki. Będą musieli grać własnymi jajami, hehe. No to spektakl!

"Będziemy pierwszą naprawdę obywatelską partią w Polsce."


CDHN: Twój ostatni apel do polskiego elektoratu?
DŚ: Chcecie, aby Polską rządziły skrajnie populistyczne partie napędzane osobistą nienawiścią i małostkową chęcią rewanżu, poświęcając polską przyszłość na ołtarzu krótkoterminowego sukcesu w sondażach? Jeśli tak, to głosujcie na nas!
CDHN: Na pańską partię?
DŚ: Przepraszam, źle mi to wyszło. Wtedy głosujcie na nich! Ale jeśli natomiast chcecie aby Polska była rządzona przez umiarkowaną, centrową, merytoryczną agencję - przepraszam, partię - to macie Państwo tylko jedną opcję: Stronnictwo Demokratyczne.

Thursday, October 1, 2009


A couple of months ago, this desperate cry for help reached us from an anonymous reader in Brno:

Brno, Czech Republic

Dear Uncle T!

I have often felt treated unfairly when being charged an extra fee for my bag on a buss, whereas some exceptionally corpulent human being next to me, a person whose formidable and majestic weight by far exceeded the total weight of my thin body and my bag, and who occupied way more space than me together with my bag carefully placed between my legs so as it should not be in the way for anybody, was not charged a single penny in addition to the regular fair fee.

The question which inevitably poses itself is - is the idea of fair fee based on the notion of weight or the concept of entity? If the latter is the case, well then the halftone heavy mother of the main character from the movie about Gilbert Grape (featuring Johnny Depp), would pay pay the regular charge whereas I still would be charged extra.

The fact that really small children are not charged by some carriers, suggests that it may may be after all the weight and size that is the decisive factor. But then, what kind of approach would be employed by the carrier if two remarkably small midgets occupied two third of just one seat hugging one another pretty tightly? Without any bag? Would they by the virtue of having the total weight equal to that of a thin person be charged just the regular fee?

And quite aside from that what about Siamese twins? And how about two Siamese twins on one bus -a fat one (or maybe ones - that is the question?) and a thin one? Would they be treated equally regardless of the weight differences, and if so would they pay the double price or not?
Or what would be the approach towards a whalelike fatso with split personality?

Questions, questions, questions...
What do you make of all that?
yours You Know Who

After months of pondering, we finally came up with an answer that we hope will satisfy our troubled reader from Brno:

Dear You Know Who,
We cannot help it. We instinctively attach a certain value to obesity. Some cultures – Sub-Saharan, for instance – attach a positive value to it. Men with bellies the size of Bill Gates’ wallet and chins as multiple as the passengers of Noah’s Ark are entitled to their own private army and medicine man. Women with bottoms the size of Zeppeliners are awarded an extra neck ring and given their own talk show to host on national television. Yet again, other cultures – the American, for instance – attach a negative value to obesity. They buy exercise equipment with ridiculous names like Stairmaster and study celebrity diets the way Medieval scholars studied the Bible.

Stairmaster

The net result of all these efforts is that Africans (that is, the ones who stayed in Africa, not the ones who left) are as skinny as tooth-picks, whereas America has to be divided into different time zones – if all her citizens stood up to sing the national anthem simultaneously on the 4th of July, there is a distinct possibility that the continental shelf would either fracture or at least start moving, possibly unleashing another earthquake.


Be that as it may. The point is that the concept of obesity is loaded with emotions. That is why the question raised by our reader from Brno can only be settled scientifically. To help us, we invited Ph.D. Vidkun Gandhi, head of the Institute of Cosmological Logistics at the University of Drammen, to formulate an answer to our dear reader. Here is what he wrote (soon to be published as a special supplement to Cosmopolitan’s Dieting Special 2010):

'First, in the name of terminological clarity: By fat, I don’t mean the ‘Oh no, one of my ribs is not visible’-type of fat in vogue with Eastern-European women. By fat, I mean FAT-fat. Like when you visit the zoo and a pair of homeless Rhinos feel like adapting you as their parent. Like when you have to leave one of your relatives in charge of your genitals because your access to them is blocked by your belly. Like when you collapse from exhaustion while shopping in IKEA and the IKEA management tries to market you as their latest water bed model. Like when you don’t wear belts to keep your pants from falling off, but to keep them from bursting. Like... well, why not just say it: Like when you are a citizen of The United States of America.

Example of Eastern-European woman

Why charge fat people more? As pointed out by your frustrated anonymous Brno-reader, passengers are often charged extra for luggage – bags, golf equipment, skis etc: luggage that is external to their body. But what about the luggage some of them carry around with them on a daily basis, like the fat dangling in greasy folds from their body? Is that not also luggage? And while your bag might contain essentials like toothpaste, Prozac or cocaine, what is there in pure fat which is not utterly useless and redundant?

A truly scientistic approach also entails factoring in possible distortions of perception. Notice that everything on an aeroplane is tiny. The seats are tiny, the paper cups and plates are tiny, the toilets are extremely tiny. Now insert a fat person into this setting. Will he not look even fatter aboard a plane than in a setting surrounded by objects closer to his own size – say, in the Grand Canyon or floating around in space somewhere between Jupiter and Saturn?

Aeroplane-toilet

Newton taught us that gravitation, i.e. what we experience as weight, depends on mass and distance. Einstein improved on his predecessor, adding energy and pressure, both of which add to an object’s (relativistic) mass, increasing its weight. Let us for the sake of argument assume that Mr Fatso’s (inertial) mass is constant. This involves a certain ‘scientific licence’, since fatties have a tendency to consume food non-stop. (This is particularly relevant on long flights, where there is a chance that Mr Fatso, having just invited a few Big Macs (I suppose they serve them on American flights) around to meet his digestive system, will have undergone significant spatial expansion by the time he gets off the plane. But let us leave that aside.)

Now, take distance. The pull of gravity decreases with the distance from the object you gravitate towards, in this case planet earth. In other words, gravity – read, obesity – is less strongly felt on an airplane compared to on a bus or a train. While having a large number of fat people on board might render take-off more difficulty – a phenomenon illustrated by the tendency to throw fat people off a collapsing air balloon – their weight will decrease with the distance from the ground. The upshot of this is that fat people should pay less for plain tickets, more for bus rides. On spaceships and similar devices, no extra charge should be levied on fat people at all.

The 3rd factor on Einstein’s list is energy, which adds to an object’s weight (or ‘relativistic mass’). Energy in this context basically means heat. There is reason to assume that slim people lead a more active – or energetic – life than fat people. Whether in the gym or on the mountain trail, slim people use more energy, thus producing heat, thereby increasing their weight. However, assistant janitor at Zimbabwe Agricultural College Lady Bronisława Churchill and others argue that exactly the opposite is the case. Because fat people enjoy the physical fitness of an asthmatic Blue Whale stranded on a run-down gas station in the Arizona desert, it actually costs them much more energy to, say, get up from the armchair to let in the pizza delivery man. The mere thought of having to cover the 10 meters to the fridge has the fatties sweating like pigs. As a result, Lady Churchill argues, they are actually in a more energetic state than slim people, thus adding to their weight. The jury is still out on this one, so CDHN will abstain from taking sides. But it might be a good idea to at least prohibit fat people from visiting the toilet or making any kind of movement while on the airplane.

Blue Whale

An additional problem that arises when a fat body accumulates heat is the profuse sweating that ensues. The corpulent individual is transformed into a veritable sweat factory hell-bent on drowning its surroundings in a foul flood of body fluids.

In other words, in an ideal world, the fat bastard should be handcuffed, tied to his seat and stripped naked to make sure no extra heat is generated.

Jack-in-the-box

Finally, pressure must be taken into account: A jack-in-the-box which is pushed down is heavier than one which is not, because it exerts an unreleased outward pressure. To return to the miniature setting of the airplane; the fatso has to squeeze himself into the aisle, not to mention perform all kinds of acrobatics to get himself seated. If he then makes a single divergence from his crooked position, the entire seat structure will burst; he would leave dead fellow passengers in his wake crushed under the weight of his blubber. In other words, Fat Man is just like a jack-in-the-box, exerting unreleased outward pressure, thus adding to his weight. This suggests the extra charge levied on fat travellers should be inversely proportional to the amount of space available. In settings where space is abundant – say, the National Conference of Polish Clergy against the canonization of John Paul II – the pressure factor can thus be disregarded.

As an extra bonus to your avid reader, I would like to divulge some very recent cosmological discoveries that he or she might find intriguing. At the University of Drammen, I am in charge of the course Elementary Physics 101. One of the first questions I always get from undergraduate students is: Can a human body actually explode from being too fat? Yes, I answer my flock, indeed it can. Once a body reaches its critical mass, i.e. once the proportion between fat and other body mass (muscles, bones etc) exceeds 10³º, it starts to grow uncontrollably, or, to use the correct terminology, it enters an inflationary phase with super-fast, exponential growth of body mass, eventually causing it to explode. This phenomenon is often referred to in Physics textbooks as a Super-Nowak, named after an unusually voluminous 16th century Pole (whose descendants later emigrated to the US) whose body reached such dimensions that it – just before it exploded - covered the entire market square of his local Silesian village. The effects of this cataclysmic event are measurable even today. In 1964, two American astronomists discovered a mysterious residual noise evenly spread out across the universe. Comparing their results to notes in the Racibórz church annals from 1578, where the local vicar reports a ‘hideous, devillish noise as though Satan has descended to earth in the incarnation of a pig undergoing castration’, Prof. Bjørnstjerne Hilton at the Kashubian Institute of Nuclear Physics concluded that this so-called cosmic background radiation actually is the residual effect of Mr Nowak screaming ‘kurwa’ from the top of his lungs as his body detonates.'
Ph.D. Vidkun Gandhi, West Drammen, 29.09.2009


Cosmic background radiation

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Łap dziób Kaczorka - akcja reklamowa Orange budzi kontrowersję

Patrzył na nas z billboardów, spoty leciały bez przerwy w telewizji. Gdziekolwiek się odwrociliśmy, widzieliśmy to samo: obraz zagubionego faceta ze złapanym nosem towarzyszący chwytliwemu hasłu 'Łap dziób Kaczorka'.

Zaintrygowani, dotarliśmy do szczególów:
'Odjazdowa oferta! Za każdy 'łap' (złapanie) dostaniesz darmowego SMSa. Zrób zdjęcie, jak łapiesz dziób Kaczorka. Wysyłając MMSa ze zdjęciem do Orange, dostaniesz darmowego SMSa. Nie przegap - łap!!!'

Akcja ruszyła i zrobiła furorę. Z całej Polski abonenci Orange przyjeżdżali do Trójmiasta, łapali nos 'Kaczorka', czasami wielokrotnie, i wysyłali MMSy do Orange, aby dostać swoją nagrodę: darmowego SMSa.

'Oszukano nas'. Beata E., biedna śląska matka patrząc na zaniedbaną ścianę pustym wzrokiem opowiada swoją historię. 'Słyszałam o ofercie Orange. Mam chorą córkę w szpitalu. Przestraszyła się, jak zobaczyła czarnucha na dworcu w Gliwicach i doznała szoku. Tylko dzięki SMSom utrzymuję kontakt z nią, bo muszę przez cały dzień pilnować męża alkoholika, więc myślałam, że to oferta dla mnie. Wybrałam się do Trójmiasta i zaczęłam łapać. I chociaż dostałam obiecane SMSy, czułam, że coś jest nie tak, bo stopniowo opróżniał się mój portfel!'

Paweł G., były ksiądz z Białegostoku zbankrutował po tym, jak zaczął łapać i wysyłać SMSy. 'Po 3 tygodniach wyjazdów do Trójmiasta i łapania dziobów byłem tak spłukany, że zostałem zmuszony do kradzieży opłatków z własnego kościoła. Przez to prawie nic nie pozostało dla wiernych, ktorzy musieli walczyć ze sobą o resztki opłatków. Moi drodzy parafianie zaczęli się bić przed moimi oczyma!' W oczach byłego księdza pojawiają się łzy i jego głos załamuje się.
'W każdą niedzielę opowiadam swoim wiernym o piekle, które czeka pedałów po tamtej stronie. Po raz pierwszy, widząc matki odbierające dzieciom opłatki, doszedłem do wniosku, że piekło może być tu na ziemi.' Paweł G. zdejmuje sutannę. 'Straciłem swoją wiarę. Wytoczę Orange sprawę sadową za utraconą pracę i utracony sens życia.'

Abonenci poczuli się oszukani, ale nie wiedzieli, dlaczego kasa znikała. Jolka J., sprzedawczynia jaj spod Lublina: 'Jestem prostą sprzedawczynią prostych, ekologicznie niedostosowanych jaj, ale to wcale nie znaczy, że jestem głupia. Moja córka jest prostytutką i ma błyskotliwego alfonsa, który skończył kurs wieczorowy z matematyki na Technikum w Pasymiu.'

Alfons jej córki, zachowując anonimowość, relacjonuje.

'Będąc od swojego dzieciństwa alfonsem, uważałem miesiąc spędzony w Technikum za stracony. Ale okazało się, że przez matematykę mogłem pomóc ludziom! Zasady są takie: w Orange jeden MMS kosztuje 40, a jeden SMS 20 groszy. Wprawdzie dostaniesz darmowego SMSa, ale to nie pokrywa kosztów - 40 groszy - za wysłanie MMSa. Za każdy MMS którego wysyłasz, tracisz' - alfons wyjmuje swój kalkulator - '40 minus 20groszy, czyli 20 groszy!. Poza tym trzeba doliczyć cenę biletu kolejowego do Trójmiasta.'

Jolka: 'Sama nie kumam tych matematycznych rzeczy, ale alfons mojej córki to tak mądrala i do tego taki dżentelmen!' Teraz ta niepozorna sprzedawczyni jaj stoi na czele kampanii 'Orange, oddajcie nam kasę i godność.' 'Wydawało nam się, że dziób Kaczorka został złapany.' Jolka potrząsa głową. 'Nie. To my, prości ludzie, zostaliśmy złapani - przez Orange'.

'Kontrkampania' Jolki już ruszyła w całej Polsce. Billboardy z 'Kaczorkiem' Orange niszczono - i nie tylko. Wybuchła prawdziwa antykaczorkowa histeria! 'Wściekli abonenci Orange weszli do mojego sklepu i spalili cały rocznik Kaczora Donalda' opowiada właściciel kiosku z Mogilna. 'Krzyknąłem, że ten kaczor nie ma nic wspólnego z akcją Orange, ale na marne. Teraz pozwę Orange i zażądam odszkodowania,' mówi nam pokrzywdzony przez Orange wielkopolski kioskarz.
Tak, Kaczorze, jest o co się martwić

A co z naszym bohaterem, facetem z billboardów, nijakim K. Valentino, którego nos został złapany?

'Miałem stać się sławny. Mówiono mi, że będę gwiazdą, że czekają mnie zaproszenia na ekskluzywne przyjęcia z koreczkami, ze kręcą film na mój temat z Georgem Clooney'em w roli głownej. Ale jedyne, co pozostało to mój mocno złapany i, skutkiem tego, krwawiący nos.' Pokazuje nam resztki nosa. 'I, jakby to nie wystarczyło, abonenci obwiniali mnie za ich straty finansowe. Ruszyła nowa fala ludzi do Trójmiasta, ale tym razem w innym celu. Chcieli mi obciąć nos! O mały włos, czy może lepiej, o mały nos, nie straciłem życia.' Drapie się po nosie. 'Tak, ja też pozwę Orange. Jak się traci nos, wiadomo jak się skończy. Patrz tylko na Michaela Jacksona. Takie zabiegi nie są tanie. Na razie stać mnie tylko na..' Wyjmuje czerwony gadżet z reklamówki. '..nos klauna ze sklepu z zabawkami.' Zakłada nos klauna i stara się uśmiechnąć, ale raczej bez powodzenia.

K. Valentino - ofiara czy sprawca?

A co na to kierownictwo Orange? Postanowiliśmy odwiedzić siedzibę Orange. Przedstawiwszy się jako oszukani abonenci, zwróciliśmy uwagę na nieszcześcia, które się nam przytrafiły z powodu akcji Orange. Nasze uwagi zostały nie tylko zlekceważone lecz także wyśmiane przez dyrektora marketingowego Orange w Starych Kiełbonkach. 'Głupie krowy! I owce! I kundle! Wiadomo, że cena MMSa jest wyższa od ceny SMSa. Ta akcja zaczęła się jako zakład między działem marketingowym a działem księgowym, ile ludzi dałoby się nabrać? Chcieliśmy przetestować granice głupoty ludzkiej. Okazało się, że granic nie ma!'

Nasza rozmówca nieco zmienił ton jak zdradziliśmy, że jesteśmy nie klientami, tylko dziennikarzami i, że mamy całą rozmowę nagraną. Spanikował. Zaoferował nam darmowe SMSy, darmowe MMSy a nawet ostatnią nowość - komórkę z funkcją samotworzenia ludowych antysemickich haseł. Ale nie daliśmy się przekupić. 'Nie, nie chcemy tego. Chcemy tylko jednego.' Kazaliśmy dyrektorowi pochylić się przed nami i wystawić nos. Przez nastepne kilka godzin drapaliśmy, wykręciliśmy i ciagnęliśmy w każdy możliwy sposób nos dyrektora Orange, upokarzając go na maksa.

Zakładamy, że kierownictwo Orange będzie się długo zastanawiać, zanim ponownie zabierze się za oszukiwanie klientów.

Nos dyrektora przekonał się w końcu do naszej racji

Friday, July 3, 2009

CDHN goes commercial


CDHN - a beacon of unblemished integrity in an overcommerzialized blogosphere? Not any more. Today, CDHN features its first ever piece of advertising. With the CDHN crew just recovering from the 72-hour drinking binge it awarded itself after cashing in the check from Żywiec, time has come to reflect. As millions of people all around the world look to CDHN for advise on how to lead their lives, the question poses itself: Have we let down our faithful followers by short-sightedly succumbing to greed?

To prove that we are not adverse to self-reflection and criticizm, CDHN has invited 3 of today's brightest and most independent thinking minds to discuss the implications of CDHN 'going commercial'. In our expert panel, the following Polish pundits are ready to dissect our advertisement with their razor sharp intellects:

Joanna Kennedy Senyszyn - the black sheep of the Kennedy family. With her shrill voice and controversial opinions, she has laid waste more than one Boston garden party. In the words of Senator Ted Kennedy:
With JFK, Robert Kennedy and JFK Jr all having died young, it is common to speak of the curse of the Kennedy family. Commentators somehow fail to see what - or rather who - is the real curse of the Kennedy clan. Isn't it ironic that while cherished and loved members of our family drop dead like flies in November, the one Kennedy that we'd actually wish to see dispatched to an otherwordly existence, is not only alive, but stubbornly attends and spoils every single garden party given by the Kennedys?

Jan Jackson Rokita - Michael Jackson's unknown kid brother. In stark contrast to his brothers and sisters, who made glittering music careers, Jan renounced showbiz in order to develop his intellect, primarily by delving into classics from the Polish conservative canon. Evil tongues claim he's indirectly responsible for Jacko's lack of self esteem as he was consistently picking on his one year older brother for not using enough trisyllabic words. And, according to Jan's nanny, the fact that Jan did not miss an opportunity to point out the whiteness of his own skin compared to Michael's, left an indelible scar and might even have triggered the elder brother's fateful skin obsession. Lately, Jan Jackson Rokita made headlines after getting into a fight with the staff on a Lufthansa airplane.





















Jacek Soros Żakowski
- financial whiz and multibillionaire who to many people's surprise has become one of Capitalism's fiercest critics.

CDHN: The CDHN team are truly honoured to welcome such a distinguished handful of intellectuals whose opinions are...

Soros Żakowski: -Spare the flattery, Uncle T. Don't think you can silence me by sycophancy! It is true that Polish public debate would be void of substantial content without me raising my voice on every conceivable and inconceivable topic. But no distractions here. My sole question to you is the following: You have licked the asses of the mighty Żywiec corporation. Did it taste good?

Jackson Rokita: Grupa Żywiec might be owned by Heineken, but at least it has no German capital, or should I say Geld. At a time when Germany pursues a relentless campaign to ethnically cleanse Polish intellectuals from European airspace it is imperative that Poland says no to Herr Fritz and his various plans to subjugate the Polish nation.

Soros Żakowski: Says who? Says Der Dziennik's highest paid commentator and Herr Axel Springer's very own lackey. So, Mr Rokita, have you wrapped your lips around herr Axel's toes today? Oh, the sight of Führer Axel Springer in his lederhosen makes your heart beat just a little bit faster, doesn't it? Do you know that the anti-German commentaries you write in Der Dziennik are paid for by Mr Springer himself? I mean, how humiliating is that? You've become Mr Springer's personal clown. Ha-ha.

Jackson Rokita: In 1989 the footage from Peking's Tiananmen Square of one single individual bravely opposing a tank was shown all over the world as a unique example of human bravery. A few months ago, one Polish hero - modesty forbids me to point out that it was myself - defied the mighty Lufthansa, standing upright in the face of unspeakable offence done to me and my coat. In the inner pocket of my coat I always carry the original manuscript to my Prime Minister inaugurational speech, so I think we can safely say that my coat deserved to travel on 1st class. By violating the rights of my coat, Luftwaffe - sorry, Lufthansa - were vomiting on the entire Polish intellectual heritage. Such a crime against humanity could not be allowed to happen.

Young Jasio didn't make it to the photoshoot as he he had his nose buried in the collected writings of Roman Dmowski.

Kennedy Senyszyn: Comparing dick sizes again, are we? Your adolescent barking is just a sly attempt to distract from the heart of the matter here. The poor girl in the advertisement, probably underaged, has been brutally exploited by the marketing industry. All to satisfy the needs of the beer drinking segment, which is almost exclusively male, of course. Do you know that 96 % of all sexist remarks are made under the influence of alcohol?

Jackson Rokita: I know one or two things about being abused myself. Not only was I almost beaten to death by a group of kapos from Lufthansa SS, but I was also ridiculed by my brothers for wanting to nourish my intellect rather than practising on the latest Negro dance steps. They called me a book-worm and a failure. Little did they know that the family 'book-worm' was the future Prime Minister from Kraków!

Soros Żakowski: Jasiu, you never became Prime Minister. Tusk screwed you frontally and from behind and left you with your face in the mud. Face it, Jasiu, you are and will forever stay a nobody, an also-ran whose only raison d'etre is being Axel Springer's in-house clown. The village idiot of Der Dziennik, he-he.

Jackson Rokita: Liar, liar! Are you as actually blind as you are intellectually blind? You didn't see all those majestic billboards with 'Jan Rokita - premier z Krakowa' (Jan Rokita - Prime Minister from Kraków)? Look, I carry a photo of one of them in my pocket. This one is taken near a petrol station just outside Puck. See, 'Premier z Krakowa'!

Soros Żakowski: Fine, Jasiu, perhaps you should take a taxi home now so that Nelly can give you your medication? Returning to the advertisement, most of your readers probably associate Żywiec with a chilled pint on a hot Baltic coast summer evening. Some of you might even have fond memories from the day when an overabundance of the said beer brand helped you score your second cousin at Uncle Piotr's funeral. But there is another story, the untold story about
the Żywiec corporation, about a company that treats their employees with a degree of inhumanity that would astonish a laboratory rat at L'Oreal. Do you know what happened when one of their employees - a blind man with 5 deaf children who was just about to finish his 4th consecutive shift - attached the Żywiec label to the bottle upside down? The Żywiec management smashed his middle finger with a 1000 ltr beer tapping tank and mixed his pulverized bones into budget cocaine to be dumped on the Ethiopian market.

Laboratory rat

Kennedy Senyszyn: Shut your patriarchal snout, male pig. Yes, the Żywiec bosses are cruel and callous individuals, but from your male rapist-perspective you typically overlook the pronounced gender bias of their sadism. The male hyenas in charge of Żywiec had a report commisioned which found that by selling beer to children they could boost their turnover by up to 30%. In order to develop a beer ideal for children they approached impoverished Moldavian mothers with newly born infants. For a daily salary of $ 2, the hapless women were forced to consume 12 Żywiec cans per hour, in other words: the exact quantity needed to significantly alter the taste and alcohol content of the mother's milk. Speak of breast enhancement! Measuring the enthusiasm with which the thirsty and unsuspecting infants lapped away at their victimized mothers' breasts, the Żywiec corporation acquired all the data needed to devise a beer tailor-made for the kid segment. As we speak, this beer is being mixed into orange juice in Polish kindergartens to turn the toddlers into beer addicts at an early stage.

Jackson Rokita: It is indeed true that giving women access to alcohol is highly unwise. Since we are on the topic, I would like to sort out a tiny misunderstanding. The interview with Nelly in Viva where she seems to suggest that I am not the ideal husband was a deliberate misrepresentation of her true thoughts. Her real message - which is that she adores me for being Poland's and thus the world's foremost intellectual and that she chose me after having returned 14 truckloads of red roses from a lovestruck Adam Michnik - got distorted due to overconsumption of alcohol. You see, the creme de la creme of the Kraków intelligentsia were gathered in my apartment, their attentive ears finely tuned in to listen to my elaborations on the topic of 'Jan Rokita as an opinionmaker'. It so happened that I got so carried away by the fascinating topic that I simply forgot to lock my minibar for the night. My devious wife snuck out of the bedroom in the middle of the night and helped herself rather liberally from my whisky supplies. The morally crippled Viva journalists of course cynically exploited the opportunity. I am planning to take legal action against the magazine for abusing a woman not in command of her mental faculties. Moreover, I intend to place Nelly under my custody so that she will no longer compromise herself and her only achievement in life, i.e. me.

Soros Żakowski: Foremost intellectual, my ass! 3 words, Jasio, 3 words to remind you what a complete loser you are: Donald.. Fucking.. Tusk... Ha-ha.

Kennedy Senyszyn: It is hardly a secret that Nelly is in urgent need of psychiatric intervention. But giving Jackson Rokita influence over her is like entrusting the Neapolitan mafia with your smelliest garbage . A much better idea would be to send her to one of our Feminist run mental correction facilities for women led astray by Conservative ideology, where an adequate combination of feminist writing, carefree shopping and continued electroshock will nurse her back to health and make her renounce her disgusting political beliefs once and for all.

CDHN: My sincere thanks to our distinguished panel for sharing your invaluable thoughts with CDHN's readers. By way of finishing, perhaps each of you could say a few words about how you value CDHN's contribution to the blogosphere and to the public debate in general?

Kennedy Senyszyn: Take a group of bigoted, sexually deviant middle class males rapidly approaching their midlife crisis. Give them a computer and an internet connection and the irredeemable information sewage of CDHN is what results.

Soros Żakowski: Whenever I am forced to read your blog I can almost feel the stinky breath of corporate Capitalism seeping through the computer screen.

Jackson Rokita: If your blog was in paper form it could be used as toilet paper... for dogs.

CDHN: Thank you again and a happy summer to you all!

Sunday, June 21, 2009

The 5 most shaggable women in world politics and how to seduce them

Buttocks have been squeezed in all possible and impossible ways. Hair samples have been tested for silkiness in specially designed laboratories. Voices have had their sensuality measured using state-of-the-art phonetic equipment from the Linguistics Department at MIT. Panties have been sniffed by an experienced and dedicated team of Labrador Retrievers. In short: No boob has been left unturned as CDHN has taken upon itself the formidable task of compiling the definite and only scientifically sound ranking of the world's hottest female politicians.


1. Sandra Roelofs First Lady of Georgia
Georgian President Mikheil Saakashvili might be chased by KGB-agents, loathed by his own people and left with no other friends than fellow losers Wiktor Juszczenko and Lech Kaczyński. He might have played hazard with the lives of his own citizens by providing Putin with a long sought for excuse to chose Georgia as the 2008 destination for the Russian Army’s annual raping excursion. So what keeps this tortured man ticking? Well, after yet another day passed by that didn’t see him lynched or assassinated, he can crawl into a warm bed and snuggle up to his adorable Sandra. Those who think that Dutch-born beauty Sandra Roelofs chose Saakashvili for his fame and fortune couldn’t be more wrong. Back in the days when they fell in love, Saakashvili was just an opposition nobody from an ex-Soviet republic primarily known for furnishing the Russian state apparatus with unusually cruel individuals the likes of Josef Stalin and Lavrentij Beria.

The question remains though, how long can Miserable Mikheil keep his Divine Dutchess for himself ? Russia has a long standing reputation for sending out their top secret agents to seduce powerful politicians or their secretaries. And conquering Sandra must seem an infinitely more pleasurable challenge than, say, Werna Gerhardsen. On the other hand, most Russian men between 18 and 45 are either dead in Chechnya or half dead from alcoholism, so there might be a shortage of suitable candidates.

How to seduce her: Sandra feels nostalgic about the good old opposition days before Mikheil was corrupted by power and riches. Pose as a North Korean freedom fighter hiding in a cave in the mountains where Kim Jung Il is carrying out nuclear tests. Tell Sandra how you plan to abort the North Korean Dictator’s deadly experiments by physically throwing yourself on top of the nuclear missile. This will no doubt appeal to Sandra’s romantic idealism, and the prospect of certain death as Kim Jung Il’s sends his 1.2 million strong army after both of you will only heighten the intensity of the love making.

2. Yulia Timoshenko – Prime minster of Ukraine

Wherein lies Yulia’s undeniable appeal? Ukraine’s wannabe dictator exudes about as much human warmth as an average Russian tank factory. In fact, the only thing remotely human about her is the thing situated on top of her head. I hesitate to refer to it as a hairstyle. It might have started out as a hairstyle, but it has evolved far beyond that and has surely taken on a separate existence. Some astronauts even claim it is visible from space.
How to seduce her: Roses or poems will get you nowhere with Ukraine’s icy beauty. Do not appeal to her romantic feelings because they are non-existent. The only thing that holds any appeal for this woman is power, and power in this part of the world basically means Vladimir Putin. Claim that you have invented an elixir that will miraculously turn her into Mr Putin, whereas what you actually are serving her, is a kind of hormonical Red Bull that will transform this political predator into a sex-starved rabbit.


3. Segolene Royal Socialist Party candidate for the French presidential election in 2007 (where she lost to Nicholas Sarkozy)
Segolene Royal might be a socialist, but she is above all French. One can only begin to imagine what unspeakable depravities she has lowered herself to in order to climb (almost) to the top of a society as thoroughly perverted and morally unprincipled as the French one. There is some dissent within the CDHN expert panel as to whether engaging in licentious activities with individuals as mentally challenged as socialists can be defended from a moral point of view, and the Ageist fraction on our editorial board argue that at 55 she is past her sell-by date, but let’s not fool ourselves, gentlemen (and gentlewomen of the appropriate persuasion): presented with a naked Madame Segolene draped in nothing but the Tricolor all objections would be gone as quickly as a French army before a German onslaught.

How to seduce her: Invite her to dinner, presenting yourself as a journalist in possession of a photo where Nicholas Sarkozy is blowing his nose with the Tricolor. Smelling Sarko's blood and sensing an opportunity to finish off her arch enemy once and for all, Segolene will show up trembling with excitement. Treat her to an exquisite snail dinner and a bottle of wine, all the while waving the incriminating photo in front of the drooling Frogess. Only when the bottle is completely empty, you inform her that what she has been sipping was not a Chateau Margaux 1995, but in fact Argentinian wine. A shattered Ms Royal has committed the one sin more deadly to a member of the French elite than wearing cheap perfume: she has perpetrated the ghastly crime of consuming new world wine! Her relief when you tell her you will not let this potentially devastating transgression come to the knowledge of the French public, will be so overwhelming that you don’t even have to ask her: Ms Royal will rip off her expensive garments faster than a French General can say “Ich ergebe mich!” as what might possibly be a German uniform appears in the horizon.

4. Queen Rania of Jordan
One of the stated goals of desert hottie Rania is to ‘fight stereotypes against Muslims’. If this is really her foremost concern, one might ask why this member of the exceptionally exclusive group ‘Sexy Arabs’ is not shedding those long dresses in favour of something a little more slutty? A tantalizingly exposed nipple or two would once and for all convince world opinion that Muslim women are more than burka-clad domestic slaves whose only function is to serve as sperm receptacles when their criminally unshaved Taliban husbands need to unload some aggression.
How to seduce her: In Rania's part of the world, there is one thing people despise even more than razors and pigs, and that is Jews. Nothing tastes as sweet as forbidden fruits to a Rania that is probably bored to death from sitting inside her palace all day. Dress up as someone unambiguously Jewish like, say, Woody Allen or Leon Trotsky, and show up in Ranya’s bedroom singing klezmer songs, cracking Seinfeld-jokes and wearing nothing but your skull cap. Enticed by the prospect of forbidden love, the Queen will cast herself in the role of Juliet to your Romeo, and promptly lift that blanket to initiate a night of love making so unlimited in its sinfulness that Bill Clinton would be blushing.
Special advice: Love-making kosher style requires that you get yourself circumsized. You might have second thoughts about taking such a radical step. On the other hand, when King Abdullah's security guards catch you helping yourself from Queen Rania's cookie jar, they will chop off your genitals and feed them to the royal camels anyway, so it will ultimately not matter very much.

5. Mara Carfagna Italian Minister for Equal Opportunities and former showgirl

These days Silvio Berlusconi is suffering two personal defeats. His wife is leaving him and Milan has lost the Serie A championship to Inter for the 4th time in a row. What steps will a megalomaniac like Silvio take to compensate? That is, when he is tired of the 18-year old model he is currently satisfying his ego with? Minister in his government Mara Carfagna would be wise to place her well shaped behind on pinching alert. The former model and showgirl would fit the bill ideally as an aging Il Cavaliere is looking for solid physical evidence that he is not losing it.

How to seduce her: Let’s face it: You cannot compete with Berlusconi on his own terms. If you buy Ms Carfagna red roses, Silvio will buy her Kensington Gardens, have them disassembled, flown over and delivered to her address. Take her out to a fancy restaurant, and Silvio will dig a canal to her doorstep, fill it with vintage champagne and arrive sailing on his yacht. And I didn’t even mention the fact that Silvio is a more than capable singer. Berlusconi simply cannot be out-Berlusconied.

Your only option is to come across as the complete opposite of everything Berlusconi embodies. Present yourself as a homeless person and tenant farmer-turned-toilet cleaner whose one-acre farm was raced to the ground when Berlusconi suddenly felt the urge to extend one of his swimming pools. Be sure to look as shabby and unwashed as humanely possible and present her with your best Shane MacGowan-smile. After so many years in the social jet-set surrounded by glamorous people, chances are that Ms Carfagna just might find the idea of exchanging body fluids with a particularly smelly specimen of the lumpenproletariat an enticing challenge.

Shane MacGowan, former frontman of British-Irish folkrock group The Pogues

Thursday, April 2, 2009

The officially authorized CDHN test: What nationality are you really?

Always felt like an outsider? Doesn't anybody want to play with you? And why is it that all the clubs you ever join only have one member? Could it be that you're simply born in the wrong country? By taking this easy test, you can finally find out which country is your spiritual homeland and where to settle to meet individuals just like yourself.

1. Your country is invaded by another country.
a. You hide in a bunker with your pet dog and your collection of Wagner operas.
b. 'Great! More clients for my strip club!'
c. You know that the invading army will freeze to death or get stuck in the mud somewhere on the way to your country’s capital anyway, so you’re not really that concerned. But you send out a few millions of your fellow countrymen to die as canon fodder just to be on the safe side.
d. Your country is usually invaded by more than one country at the same time, so this is not so bad actually
e. You are surprised that the United Nations Human Rights Council ,Hamas and the entire continent of Africa are not here to defend you after all you’ve done for them
f. You don’t really care, because you beat them in football anyway

2. You find out that your father is gay
a. You write an opera about it
b. At first you are a little upset, but then you find consolation in the thought that so was Frederick the Great
c. You are angry with him for not coming out earlier before having a gay dad became as common as balloons at children’s birthday parties
d. You try to cure him with electroshock while he’s sleeping
e. You blame some neighbouring country where he spent his holiday and use this as a pretext to invade them
f. You tell your friends that as a guest worker in Britain your father was so shocked by the unattractiveness of the local women that he was given no choice

3. The Polish Pope dies
a. You’re angry because you have to cancel your weekend trip to Krakow
b. Great. Our guy is next in line!
c. You close down society for three weeks, mourn and weep and vail, and then die from heart attack from the shock you get when you learn that there is supposed to be some guy in the jungle of Botswana who didn’t really care that much about the Pope’s death.
d. The Polish one? He doesn’t really count
e. You start weeping because you mistake the Pope for Putin
f. You wonder if this qualifies you for some kind of welfare benefit

4. Your dog is seriously ill
a. You sell it to an animal-loving family with children as soon as you can without informing the new owners about its ailment
b. You conclude that its genes are inferior and start to apply euthanasia, but change your mind in the last moment when you recall Himmler’s words that the Germans are the only race that treat animals humanely
c. You ask your local priest if there is a patron saint for sick dogs
d. You go to your local consigliere to ask for advice
e. You think its disease might be psychosomatic and take it to your shrink, but only after you’ve made sure that the you will get all the costs refunded by the state
f. You blame its illness on imported Polish/Georgian dog food and call for an immediate boycott (followed by invasion) of those two countries

5. A foreigner actually takes the time and effort to learn your language and tries to converse with you in it
a. She tries to say ‘How do you do’, but it comes across as ‘Down with Putin’, so you have her sent off to a labour camp
b. You assemble a group of your friends and tell the foreigner to pronounce one of the most difficult tongue twisters in your language. Then you all laugh your asses off as the foreigner gets the fricative sounds mixed up
c. You start correcting her grammar.
d. You start speaking to her in your heavily accented English
e. You take advantage of her incomplete knowledge of your language to get her to sign a contract where she obliges herself to working full time in your strip club
f. The concept of foreign language is alien to you. You are convinced that your mother tongue is spoken by absolutely everyone apart from Americans, so you cannot really relate to this person

6. What object would it be most difficult for you to live without?
a. Your mafia membership card
b. A list of all the welfare benefits you qualify for.
c. The pickled cucumber you once bought that had the shape of a cross
d. A map of your neighbouring countries borders.
e. Your diploma from the Pimp Academy of Prague that happens to have Karel Gott’s signature on it
f. A complete collection of all the laws and regulations written down in your country since Frederick Barbarossa

7. A pedestrian tries to cross the street while you are driving your car
a. You mistake the pedestrian for a moose and pull out your rifle from your luggage box
b. You run him over deliberately, then hurl verbal abuse at him
c. You never drive cars, only tanks
d. You sue him because you heard him make a joke about your country’s army
e. You run him over by accident. Since he’s dead anyway, you figure you just might search through his pockets for some banknotes or a credit card or maybe some unused condoms
f. You try to run him over but your Vespa scooter gives him just a tiny scratch.

8. You find out that your neighbour is a Jew
a. You tell him to proceed to the showers for delousing
b. You beat him senseless with a cross
c. You have him deported to Siberia.
d. You transfer a pile of money to Palestinian freedom fighters so that they can fire rockets at his house or dress up as milkmen and blow themselves up inside it
e. You do your best to cheat him by overcharging for beer.
f. You hate every single one of your neighbours regardless of their ethnicity

Give yourself the following number of points for the respective answers:
Q1. a: 5 b: 1 c: 6 d: 4 e: 3 f: 2

Q2. a: 2 b: 5 c: 3 d: 4 e: 6 f: 1

Q3. a: 1 b: 5 c: 4 d: 2 e: 6 f: 3

Q4. a: 1 b: 5 c: 4 d: 2 e: 3 f: 6

Q5. a: 6 b: 4 c: 5 d: 3 e: 1 f: 2

Q6. a: 2 b: 3 c: 4 d: 6 e: 1 f: 5

Q7. a: 3 b: 4 c: 6 d: 5 e: 1 f: 2

Q8. a: 5 b: 4 c: 6 d: 3 e: 1 f: 2

8-13 pts: You are Czech

You love beautiful women, good beer and all the sweet pleasures life has to offer. Apart from that, you’re not really sure what is your historical mission.









14-17 pts: You are Italian

Your state-making skills leave a lot to be desired and your national tv is a cultural disaster, but who cares: You love art, opera and architecture and the dinners you cook are true culinary events.













18-21 pts: You are Norwegian
You have a constant craving for goat milk cheese, love skiing and walks in the forest and are proud of living in an egalitarian society. You send piles of money to Africa without quite knowing why, but you have a secret hope that it will somehow improve your tan.











22-27 pts: You are Polish
You’re hospitable, helpful and willing to sacrifice a lot for your ideals. If you’re a woman, you’re probably also attractive. You think pickled cucumbers are God’s gift to mankind.


28-32 pts: You are German

You are a true connosieur of sausages, an eminent philosopher, have a great organizational talent and your garden is always well kept. If you were better at marketing yourself, the world would also know that you’re great at making cocktails.














Above 33 pts: You are Russian

You have a remarkable survival instinct and a talent for writing epic novels. You are hospitable and fun-loving, but tend to drink a little too much at times.









’Oh no, I don’t know how to do this, why do I have to do the maths myself, why doesn’t it work like on Facebook where they find the answer for you, HOWL! HOWL! HOWL!’
:
You are a useless facebook-addict with the intellectual sophistication of a kebab. No remotely civilized country would ever acknowledge you as their citizen, but you could try to apply for the post of finance minister in Zimbabwe.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

The case against Vegetarianism

Paper presented at the annual convention of Częstochowa Red Meat Lodge, March 2009

'Oh come on! Like there are piles of jobs waiting for us if the beef industry has to close down.'

It is legitimate to nourish even strong antipathy towards certain types of food. It is perfectly healthy to invest carefully accumulated hatred in a particularly detestable dish. I for one find Polish cuisine an affront to my taste buds and spend two hours with my face in the toilet bowl if anyone as much as mentions bigos. The question is: Do I build a weltanschauung on it?

In this in-depth analysis of the irrational but widespread phenomenon of Vegetarianism I intend to show that this is not merely a diet, nor a healthy lifestyle, nor a way of showing compassion with our four-legged friends. No, Dear Lodge Members. Vegetarianism is a pathological obsession that bears all the hallmarks of a religion. And not only is it a religion; the central contention of this paper is that Vegetarianism is a particularly unattractive and pointless religion embraced by anally retentive nuts.

The contrast is obvious in this photo taken on a picnic in the Bavarian countryside in the 1930s. The Vegetarian to the left - short, feeble, trying to make up for his sense of inferiority by growing a ridiculous moustache. The meat-eater in the middle - healthy, virile, excuding strength and masculinity, fresh from shagging Marlene Dietrich

The anally retentive character trait of Vegetarianism manifests itself in a preoccupation with titles. Whenever you pose a Vegetarian an awkward question, he or she will retort that this concerns only Lacto-vegetarians, Ovo-vegetarians, Lacto-Ovo vegetarians, Pescetarians, Vegans etc, ‘while I myself am a Pollo-vegetarian, so there you go’. This is indicative of mental instability for 2 reasons. First, meat-eaters don’t give themselves silly names based on the type of food they eat. You don’t have Porkarians, Beefists or Hotdogarians. Secondly, even if they did, they wouldn’t expect the general public to be familiar with these terms or even be bothered. Vegetarians are different. They are so fascinated with their own universe of hyphenated Latinates that they think the world around them care. Well, time for a reality check, soy-munchers.

So I hereby suggest a new and simplified Vegetarian typology, where we operate with three kinds of Vegetarians: 1. the smelly, greasy-haired Pacifist Hippie type with a horrible taste in music (read: Joan Baez, Joni Mitchell, Fairport Convention and other monstrosities that sprang out of the 60s folk rock scene) who thinks the world would be a more harmonious place without water closets. 2. The herb-munching tea-sipping health nut whose narcissistic obsession with his own organism (including its digestive capacities) borders on the perverse 3. Adolf Hitler / Morrissey

For simplification I will hereafter refer to members of any of the above groups as Veggists.
Veggists feel deeply inferior to meat-eaters. This coupled with a bizarre and extremely infantile fixation with food shapes has given us the Veggist line of wannabe-meat products. ‘Oh no, don’t think that you primitive carnivores have a monopoly on the sausage shape. My soy sausage can call itself a real sausage with just as much right as any sausage made from pork.’ Thus there will always be a certain asymmetry between Veggists and the mentally healthy. Quite simply because meat-eaters don’t expect their chicken legs to have the shape of broccoli.

'Yes, I know I should go to the barberer's, but not eating pork is my no. 1 priority at the moment.'

One of the many unappealing features that Veggists share with religious people is their demand for special privileges. 'Ok, so I might be the only Veggist here among 500 guests and I know arranging a wedding is stressful enough already, but hey, serve me that veggie burger NOW!' Note how Muslims and Veggists share an obsession with particular types of food. Zealous Muslims have no problems with grotesquely excessive facial hair, but try to serve them pork and they will hijack an aeroplane and crash it into your kitchen.

How to convert a Veggist

Some of you might – and I speak from personal experience – suffer the misfortune of having colleagues, family members, friends or even (gulp) sex partners who for whatever depraved reason succumbed to the doctrine of Veggism. The healthy contempt you instinctively feel for such pathetic individuals is overpowered by an irrational sense of loyalty and compassion with them. You see not a self-important moralist but a fellow human being in need. Your carnivorous nobleness compels you to come to their rescue. How to save a Veggist? Here are 5 strategies:

Veggism - no recipe for happiness, as demonstrated by these two miserably-looking German veggists from the 1930s

1. Appeal to his/her general desire to be happy
Veggism offers nothing: Islam gives you sex with 72 virgins after death. The Christian afterlife consists of something more diffuse involving angels and harps and probably boring as hell but at least peaceful. Nazism offers racial purity and blonde hair that doesn’t fall of when you’re 33. Communism offers the dictatorship of the proletariat and the chance to rape and loot the bourgeoisie for all they are worth. What does Veggism offer? Dying from boredom at 56! It is a creed completely deprived of attractions. Its main attraction is in fact its unattractiveness. The budding veggist reads about the complete humourless Veggist lifestyle and thinks to himself: This looks so bleak and life-negating that there’s got to be some hidden reward somewhere; Some Veggistan-heaven where a permanently nude Scarlet Johansson shares a soy enchilada with a peace loving lion.

2. Appeal to his/her empathy
Tell your Veggist friend that the soy bean has a rich and fascinating emotional life. Veggists already have inflated opinions of non-humans’ mental capacities, so they just might buy it. Without soy the whole foundations of veggist cuisine will be pulled away under their feet and Veggists will have to face a choice between starvation or a return to sanity. (Some might chose the first option, you might argue – all the better. This shows that Darwinism still works.)
Alternatively you can try the inverse tactic. Convince them that cows are plants.

3. Appeal to his/her sense of guilt
Invite a veggist for a dinner. When she has just licked her fork clean, tell her that what she just devoured so enthusiastically was not a soy beef but raw Panda meat. Veggists like most religious nuts react with panic to the mere suspicion that they have committed a sin. Being a veggist has lost its raison d’etre once and for all and the tormented veggist-sinner will be sent sliding down the slippery (especially greased with animal fat for the occasion) slope to a healthy colesterol-filled diet.
Yes, that's YOU 15 years ago, and that is no soy sausage!

If you don’t feel like wasting good meat, you can produce (Photoshop offers unlimited possibilities) a photo from your friend’s childhood showing the future Veggist engrossed in the consumption of a hot dog on the annual Constitution Day celebrations, her snotty face all smeared with ketchup and mustard. If necessary (most Veggist have probably repressed all memories from their pre-Veggist existence), make use of Freudian techniques like hypnosis to recreate the meat-eating experience in its full sensual dimension.

4. Appeal to his/her ability to over-generalize

Dress up as a cow (or another animal prone to appear on your plate in the company of french fries) and subject a veggist to a violent assault. The victimized veggist’s ability to identify with the suffering of the cow will suffer a severe blow and the next time he sees a group of cattle heading for the slaughterhouse, he will cheer them on enthusiastically. However, keep in mind that this might prove counterproductive. Being notoriously irrational individuals, Veggists may easily fall victim to the Stockholm syndrome and start treating cows with even more reverence than before. A safer but more time-consuming approach is to dress up as a cow and start stalking a Veggist by sending her love letters, putting up a tent outside her apartment, start fan sites on the internet etc. This will cure your Veggist friend of her fondness for cows once and for all.

5. Appeal to his/her sense of aesthetics
Loved by everyone in Poland, and not only for her artistic genius.

Veggists are firmly convinced that their lifestyle is more in harmony with nature. (Their spirits are somehow not dampened by the fact that none of the carnivores actually living in nature would ever renounce meat-eating for ideological reasons.) Show the Veggist a soy cotlet and tell him or her that this is nothing more and nothing less than the culinary equivalent of a silicone breast. Hardly natural.

6. Appeal to his/her dislike of Adolf Hitler (The ‘Reductio ad Hitlerum’ approach)

If, Dear Lodge Members, your Veggist friend stubbornly resists all your attempts to nurse him back to sanity; even if he or she is stupefyingly immune to reason; there is a last resort, an argument to which there is no riposte: Adolf Hitler was a Veggist. ‘Oh, but that is irrelevant. His vegetarianism had nothing to do with him killing millions of people and stuff.’ Wrong. It had everything to do with it. If you value purity (be it racial or nutritional) above everything else including human well-being there is but a small step to dabbling in mass murder. The only difference between Der Führer and your average Veggist is that Adolf was the dictator of Germany while your Veggist-misfit friend is still the odd one out on the annual Thanksgiving dinner, sitting by himself with his miserable soy pancakes while his cousins are bonding happily over a juicy turkey.

Real, calorie-packed meat - brings the family together.

Friday, March 6, 2009

The CDHN course in applied fertilization

In an era where the youth of Poland are leaving in droves for the decadent West and the few remaining ones are brainwashed by homosexual propaganda into not having any offspring at all, it is all the more gratifying to come across men who know what it takes to be a proper Polish husband. The first Norwegian king, Harald Fairhair, made a vow not to cut his hair before the whole of Norway was one kingdom. Is it likewise the case that Krzysztof Putra, the Polish Parliamentarian, has made a vow not to cut his grand moustache until his wife has blessed him with a double digit number of kids? With 8 (some sources claim 9) kids already having catapulted out of his wife, the dawning of the day when Poseł Putra’s moustache can face a devastating encounter with a hedge trimmer is drawing ever closer.

Poseł Putra is a true living legend with unsurpassed achievements in the domain of turning one’s wife into a veritable baby-dispenser. Can I, a mere mortal, possibly compete with HIM, you ask yourself? Yes, you can, as Obama would have put it. CDHN is proud to offer you a crash course in how to beat Putra on his hometurf.

First of all, be a good Catholic. Adhere to the teaching of Pope John Paul II and never, absolutely NEVER use contraceptives. If your wife buys you condoms, find out where she stores them and poke holes in them. If your wife is too devious in seeking to flunk her breeding obligations - storing the condoms in a place you have never bothered to learn the existense of (like together with the cleaning detergents) - then have your penis pierced. This will make it difficult if not impossible to attach a condom to it. And for anyone steeped in the Catholic visual tradition, a piercing is more than just a needle: a colourful crucifix will liven up the dullest of penises.

Secondly, make sure that your wife is not taking any kind of contraception pills. Convince her that this type of pills causes a whole assortment of side effects, like cellulite, overweight, pimples and other things that women tend to get hysterical about.

Thirdly, learn from the dogs. Live for a while among stray dogs on the streets and internalize their mating habits. Dogs are notorious for possessing an unrelenting urge to penetrate everything with an inviting shape: table legs, human legs, trees etc. If cohabitation does not do the trick, seek a genetic biologist and have dog genes infused. You will be endowed with a constant erection and subject everyone and everything around you to a permanent assault.

Finally, keep your wife within a safe distance from the nearest labour office. It is imperative that she be available for insemination at all thinkable moments. If necessary, immobilize her, for instance by hiding all her expensive shoes. (No woman with a minimum of self-respect will leave the house in substandard footgear). Invest in new furniture to make staying at home a more attractive option. The combination of a flat screen TV attached to the ceiling and a comfortable sofa is a winner. In this way, your wife can watch ’M jak milosc’ lying on her back, a position that greatly facilitates impregnation.

FAQ
As a special service to our faithful readers, Assistant Dean Adolf Mandela from the Jozef Fritzl Department of Family Studies at the University of Salzburg answers some of the most common questions related to the mass production of offspring.

Q: Do I need to grow a moustache the size of Putra’s in order to become the father of 8?
A.M.: This is not a requirement, but it is strongly recommended. The danger exists that your wife will suspect that she married a rabbit and seek refuge in the basement as soon as she sees the ’let’s make babies’-look on your face. A generous moustache combined with a pair of dark glasses will serve to obscure your intentions and render it difficult for your wife to guess when you are planning to impregnate her. Besides, the presence of an intimidating bush in the middle of your face will make kissing and other forms of wasteful and non-reproductive sex (also called foreplay) less pleasant, enabling you to go straight to the point.

Q: If I have 8 children and each of them in turn have 8 children, I will have 64 grandchildren. How do I keep track of them?

A.M.: Experts recommend the time tested Michał Wiśniewski-method of child-identification. Make each of your sons and daughters colour their offspring’s hair with one and the same colour. All your daughter Bożena’s children will have red hair, all your son Zdzisław’s children will have blue hair and so on. If this method is too costly, paper hats are a cheap alternative. Yet another alternative, which can easily be combined with the previous 2, is to compile a list of your 64 favourite Catholic saints and make sure that each of your grandchildren is named after one of them.