Ciaran’s Peculier [sic] Blog

Why has there not been a national outcry? Brian Lenihan has announced his plans for social welfare cuts. He believes the high levels of welfare payments are preventing the country from getting out of the recession, and like a good Thatcherite believes that current levels of welfare benefits are a disincentive to work.

 (This isn’t a Ciaran Parker hoax: it can be read here.

 While he is busy spending the country’s money on bailing out Anglo Irish Bank, it may have slipped his attention that there are very few jobs out there. So are people to starve? In many cases it is not the high level of welfare payments that are acting as a disincentive, but the fact that those seeking the few jobs available often find relatives of Fianna Fail (and Fine Gael) politicians always landing the jobs in front of them.

It seems that efforts have been made to keep this news story off the front pages and the television news. The Fianna Fail party obviously realise that were it to be generally known their opinion poll ratings would be in negative figures, so they wish to deceive the voting public.

I honestly think that Fianna Fail has been taken over by a Doomsday Cult. I don’t think they will care if they suffer electoral meltdown. After all they’re in government, and who are the electorate? A crowd of whingers. But while they may feel county councillors are an expendable group of yokels with no real power vis-à-vis local government executives, they should remember that they are the people who elect the bulk of An Seanad. I would not be surprised if, following the next general election – which may be sooner than later), there will be numerous Fianna Fail TDs looking for a back-way into the legislature through being elected as a senator.

These statements of Lenihan have nothing to do with economics. They stem from social prejudice. Also, let us remind ourselves that Lenihan is a lawyer and not an econom9ist. He is a hostage of the senior, well-paid officials of the Department of Finance, and he is demonstrating a bad dose of Stockholm syndrome.

Lenihan really has a cheek. A man who had his university fees paid from his third year in College (as well as free rooms in Trinity), and this as a result of a scholarship awarded on the results of an examination. This wasn’t a state examination like the Leaving Certificate, or an end-of-year examination where members of staff from other universities act as consultants or advisers, but an internal examination, marked solely by members of the College’s staff  – in this case the staff of Trinity’s Law Department. There was no secrecy here. Brian Lenihan’s identity was clearly evident to the examination markers. They could plainly see the papers belonged to the son of one of the country’s leading politicians. The markers did not have to think whether he was good enough for the scholarship; rather they had to wrestle with what might happen if they didn’t give him the scholarship, and how this might affect funding to Trinity in the future were Fianna Fail in power.

My personal recollections of Brian Lenihan Jr in Trinity College in the mid ‘80s was of an obese oaf. I recall how at cumann meetings (yes, I attended them) he would sit Buddha-like, surrounded by is arse-lickers and groupies, hanging on every word of drivel as if it were an intellectual pearl of great price.

In Chile a former conscript has been charged with the brutal murder of popular singer Victor Jara in the immediate aftermath of General Augusto Pinochet’s fascist putsch in 1973. Victor Jara, among with hundreds of others, was brought to Chile’s National stadium where he was subjected to an orgy of mindless thuggery and violence before being shot forty-four times.

And the man who masterminded the coup and who was the intellectual author of Jara’s murder and that of thousands of others sipped tea in the cosiest of tete-a-tetes with that rabid bitch Margaret Thatcher. He was also the darling of members of the Catholic right in England and Ireland, such Norman Lamont. I remember how I was told by a member of the Knights of Columanus that Pinochet had “rescued Chile from communism” and that most of those who were murdered by the military were communist sympathisers who deserved what they got.

I have read in a recent number of the Cavan Echo how that stalwart defender of the hard-working white people of Belturbet, Councillor John Scott, has called for “traffic calming” measures in the vicinity of the town’s Fair Green and St Bricin’s School. Might I suggest that a good way of effecting this would be for Cavan County Museum to move to the site. Not only would this mean that Councillor Scott’s insolent scut of a son wouldn’t have to go so far to work, but as the museum attracts so few visitors traffic calming would be guaranteed. Maybe the museum might move to the vicinity of the Ballyhugh Heritage Centre, so that the members of the Ballyconnell Heritage group wouldn’t have to travel so far either.

I need hardly add that the above ought to be taken au leger, while what follows must be taken very much au serieux – that’s your actual French that it.

I have never envied Scott’s son his job in Cavan County Museum. Councillor Scott is no doubt justifiably proud of him, but would he be proud if he had brought up his son to be a jealous coward, who sought to insult and slight me without reason? But then I suppose a disabled person like myself is an easy target.

I have never met Councillor Scott – a situation I have no desire to rectify. He may no doubt wonder at my hostility towards him. Well now he knows how it feels.

May I take the liberty to observe that if he is anything like his son he may not be worthy to be a public representative.

I know that my style is not to everyone’s taste. There are those who pretend to be offended, but I don’t think anyone can doubt my honesty. If I don’t like someone tit is clear from the contents of my posts. I don’t engage in the nasty habit of whispering about people behind their backs, or indulging in character assassinations.

This is the last time I will ever refer to that duo Scott junior and senior, on my blog, either seriously or in jest. I just can’t lower myself to deal with filth. They can anticipate fate by going to hell. The same goes for that sad institution Cavan County Museum. It can go on being a costly white elephant providing employment to the families of local politicians, while vital services are curtailed and those providing them are given. I don’t care. Its miserable walls can dissolve into talcum powder, or it can be vapourised by aliens and its collection of toilet seats brought off to plant Zag.

I wouldn’t be surprised if, following Councillor Scott’s election (which seems almost certain), I don’t receive notice of some vexatious legal action against me – all of which I would be more than willing to respond to. This would be proof of the evil that I see myself as having to counter.

Let me just add a note of genuine apology to Mr Frank Gibbons of Cavan County Council. He won’t be troubled by any more of my hoaxes. I’ hope the museum can remain open, though purged of the arrogant scum that has accrued in it. I must add that I don’t think it’s my fault if people in Cavan are so gullible.

Piles of problems for electioneers

Yesterday I passed by a hoarding displaying an election poster – I couldn’t see who it was for. It featured portraits of five candidates – four men and a woman. This put me in mind of a TV ad from over thirty years ago which featured a sequence of photographs. The voice-over went (if I can remember it):

All these people have one thing in common – they all suffer from haemarrhoids. They have something else in common – they’ve all got relief with Preparation H.

I am so grateful to the Anglo-Celt for giving publicity to my poor little blog. It is sincerely appreciated. I’m delighted that I was able to push the politicians from the front page – no easy task in the run-up to an election.

I am so glad that I have joined the hallowed hall of hoaxers where I can take my place beside such luminaries as my hero Jorge Luis Borges.

I am also reminded of the story told about President Lyndon B. Johnston. During the 1964 presidential campaign against arch-conservative Barry Goldwater, he told a group of campaign strategists. “Let’s put out a rumour that Goldwater is a homosexual.” His staff were shocked. “We can’t do that LBJ” protested one adviser. “Everyone knows Goldwater’s a family man, a good Christian who has no time for homosexuality.” Here LBJ sat back in his chair and said. “I know that, and you know that, but let’s just hear the son-of-a-bitch deny it!”

The stories on local radio had nothing to do with me; I’m barred from Northern Sound.

 By the way putrefaction means rottenness

I wish these aspirant councillors would stop plaguing me for my vote. The fact is they are now wasting my time, as I’ve already voted. You see one of the few privileges of being a cripple in Ireland is that you have a postal vote, and are thereby freed from participating in the polling booth pantomime.

How did I vote? Does anyone really expect me to vote and tell? In the European elections I voted for Susan O’Keefe, a talented and brave campaigner. I also voted for Joe O’Reilly. This is a personal vote and must not be seen as displaying any support for Joe’s party, but I will never forget the fact that Joe attended my mother’s funeral. This was something I can never forget, nor can I ever thank Joe enough for.

And then there was the County Council election. I’m not going to tell who I voted for, except to say that I voted for the only out-going member of the council who had the courtesy to attend the launch of my book last October, an event he really enjoyed. I sent invitations to all the other councillors. Now Joe O’Reilly contacted me from Strasbourg to apologise for not being able to get to it, and Anthony Vesey was in Baku. As for the rest …

I only voted for one person, but that was all I was able to vote for. The ballot paper was printed on rather bright red paper which made it difficult for me to read the names of the candidates. I’m sure if I looked too long at the paper it would have given me a headache. Those who will have the task of counting the votes will have hellish difficulty, as the mark of a pen appears almost indistinct and you have to peer closely to see the choice(s) made.

The Town council ballot paper was printed on pink paper, and the colour photographs of the candidates made them look as if they had a temperature or had just emerged from a sauna. I’m not saying who I voted for, but I will definitely identify the party I did not vote for and the reasons. As a recipient of a blind pension I, along with all other pensioners, will not receive a Christmas bonus this year, a “hard” decision made with glee by the Lady Bountiful minister for Social Welfare (Mary daughter of Des Hanaffin). The amount was small, but Fianna Fail, along with their green tale, have shown themselves to be nothing more than a group of shameful scrooges.

In spite of my warnings not to canvass my home in Cavan, some aspirant councillors nevertheless chose to ignore my warnings. I was genuinely sorry to have missed Brian McKeown and Des Cullen. Des is a good lad and his mother unfortunately has MS.

Other candidates put in “material” which should really be submitted to a comedy contest. For example, I quote from the Fianna Fail document. In the section headed “Disability Services” we read:

“Fianna Fail is committed to improving services to make them more accessible for people with a disability, including physical access to buildings, health services, public transport, training and employment” – how sweet!

There is a pub / restaurant in Cavan town, jointly owned by an outgoing Fianna Fail member of Cavan County Council and a Fianna Fail member of the senate. The restaurant is on the top floor, but as there is no lift, this is inaccessible to people like myself who are confined to a wheel-chair. Now some buildings are old, and those operating restaurants only rent a portion of them; so resources for installing lifts are limited. This particular building received extensive renovations before the opening of the restaurant, but the local planners obviously didn’t insist on a lift. No doubt they, along with the premises’ owners, consider that “cripples” are too poor to patronise the restaurant – and certainly the political party to which they belong is determined to make them even poorer. I recall a story about a shop-keeper in the American “Deep South” who was subjected to insults because he allowed “niggers” into his premises. He responded: “The colour of their skin may be black, but their dollar bills are as green as the next man’s”.

As for their commitment to improving employment possibilities for the disabled, it is the same as that of Fine Gael – it goes no further than making sure that any of their family who are disabled have nice jobs.

I know that once the election has passed the masks will slip. Instead of being nice and courteous as they seek my vote they will resort to being as hostile and indifferent as in the past. Perhaps they may be even more hostile, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m not threatened with vexatious legal action by some of these scoundrels.

The sentence handed down to Frank Dunlop shows once again how blind and socially prejudiced the Irish courts are. He’d have got a heavier sentence for having multiple welfare claims. But this reiterates what every one knows: Irish jails are for poor people – knackers, people from the other side of the tracks who aren’t members of golf clubs.

There is another peculiarity of the Irish judicial system. Those who are prosecuted can get time taken off their sentence for the trauma of the prosecution itself. The fact that they have been outed as crooks and the resultant loss of social cachet is viewed as something deserving pity and the commiserations of the court.  There is a glib saying in the ‘states; if you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime.

But then there are the personnel of the judicial system: judges, barristers, solicitors. They wouldn’t know justice if it jumped up and bit them on their penises, though from what I have heard some of them are willing to pay a lot of money for the experience in the North Inner City.

In a recent post I wrote how the dogs in the street knew that the physical, sexual and mental abuse of children by some Catholic religious orders was systematic and widespread. Perhaps it will take another commission working for ten years to “reveal” another self-evident truth: that the “sweetheart” deal arranged between the state and the religious orders on compensation of victims was drafted and composed by civil servants who were either members of or sympathetic to right-wing Catholic lay groups such as Opus Dei and the Knights of St Columbanus. Those same urban hounds are also well aware that the minister who signed off on this deal and who now seeks to defend it, was probably a member of one of these organisations. Dr Michael Woods liked to appear as the innocent, almost simple north-side politician, singing “One Day at a Time Dear Jesus” on Irish television, but he was also the minister who unleashed a vicious campaign against welfare recipients under the guise of unearthing “social welfare fraud”. I believe the agreement between Woods and the religious orders is possibly the most flagrant and biggest piece of fraud in the history of the state.

The members of these lay Catholic groups, and the vile and depraved individuals they protect, are truly evil. They masquerade as so good, often wrapping themselves up in the raiment of religiosity. But in fact this is just a confidence trick, to conceal their inner baseness and wickedness. I am convinced that if Jesus Christ were to appear in Ireland today he would be “dealt with” by these people; there wouldn’t be a trial or anything so public as a crucifixion. That would create a scandal, and the last thing the Knights or their friends can tolerate is a scandal.

But I know that anyone who speaks out about these heinous fiends faces years, decades, probably a lifetime of victimisation at their hands from which there is no reprieve.

In a recent post I wrote how the dogs in the street knew that the physical, sexual and mental abuse of children by some Catholic religious orders was systematic and widespread. Perhaps it will take another commission working for ten years to “reveal” another self-evident truth: that the “sweetheart” deal arranged between the state and the religious orders on compensation of victims was drafted and composed by civil servants who were either members of or sympathetic to right-wing Catholic lay groups such as Opus Dei and the Knights of St Columbanus. Those same urban hounds are also well aware that the minister who signed off on this deal and who now seeks to defend it, was probably a member of one of these organisations. Dr Michael Woods liked to appear as the innocent, almost simple north-side politician, singing “One Day at a Time Dear Jesus” on Irish television, but he was also the minister who unleashed a vicious campaign against welfare recipients under the guise of unearthing “social welfare fraud”. I believe the agreement between Woods and the religious orders is possibly the most flagrant and biggest piece of fraud in the history of the state.

The members of these lay Catholic groups, and the vile and depraved individuals they protect, are truly evil. They masquerade as so good, often wrapping themselves up in the raiment of religiosity. But in fact this is just a confidence trick, to conceal their inner baseness and wickedness. I am convinced that if Jesus Christ were to appear in Ireland today he would be “dealt with” by these people; there wouldn’t be a trial or anything so public as a crucifixion. That would create a scandal, and the last thing the Knights or their friends can tolerate is a scandal.

But I know that anyone who speaks out about these heinous fiends faces years, decades, probably a lifetime of victimisation at their hands from which there is no reprieve.