Thursday, 14 May 2009

Die, Nazi cows!



It's a toss-up between the self-absorption, the triviality, and the willful ignorance of the modern Left towards matters of nationality and race as to which is the most harmful and offensive to our way of life.
Here's what some of the self-serving blowhards have been doing to make our national life safer and more peaceful.


Complaints that a milk advert was racist because it showed a white bull getting "purer" by losing its black patches have been dismissed by the Advertising Standards Authority (ASA).


Yes ladies and gentlemen: in a country where immigrant gangs preside over a crime wave in ourinner cities, some of whom are now being recruited by those diverse 'British citizens' who march the streets under banners saying 'Death to the Jews' and who support our soldiers' enemies, a cartoon cow is the harbinger of Holocaust Regained.

The cartoon campaign for Cravendale milk prompted 11 complaints, 10 against a television advert and another about a magazine advert.

The ASA did not uphold the complaints, saying viewers were unlikely to see the adverts as racist so widespread serious offence was unlikely.

The ruling said: "The cows were intended as a visual metaphor for milk which underwent extra filtration processes.

"We considered viewers were likely to understand that the black and white bulls in the ads were intended as a metaphor for milk and were unlikely to interpret the visual representations of the purification process as being racist.

During the television advert an animated bull was shown visiting a milk bar. It appeared angry and demanded milk, drinking every bottle. It was then sent down a chute to the Cravendale purity room were its black patches were gradually removed and it passed signs saying "pure" and "purer".

The magazine advert showed a picture of a black and white cow next to the phrase "fresh milk". A sieve was shown below and underneath that was a white cow, alongside the text "only purer".

Additional text below said: "Cravendale is purified to remove the bacteria that turns milk sour. So you get a clean, fresh tasting milk."


Oh my God! Scramble RAF Bomber Command, call out the Platoon of Guards and signal both vessels of the mighty Royal Navy to get steam up against the imminent threat of Operation Sea Lion.

Now this is no longer tactical.
This isn't just the Far Left creating a febrile atmosphere in which any expression of doubt about the matchless loveliness of immigration is beyond the pale, and so only the Left gets to discuss nationality in the hopes of latter-day Weimar-style rioting between them and the National Front. This isn't just the Labour Party in the 1960s using memories of Hitler and Mosley to intimidate the Conservatives from discussing Pakistan and New Commonwealth settlement here.
This is the culture, stupid.
This is the third generation since Enoch Powell's expulsion from the Shadow Cabinet and it's now standard operating practise for some of the Left - anyone in the Left - to keep the pot boiling. It's pretty much all they can do now that their economics have been shot to hell by decades of comparisons between the centrally-controlled and free economies.


But this instinct is dangerous because those Islamists who preach jihad; their gangs of converts; and the immigrant criminal gangs aren't going to go away. They are going to go on becoming more numerous and more powerful and they will continue to be protected by the kind of reflex action to witch-hunt 'racism' wherever it might be concocted - no matter how absurdly. People are already dying but it's all but illegal to speak of it.


Anti-racism has tried to infect even the 'voluntary sector' such as the Advertising Standards Agency - whose 'voluntary' financing from advertising sales prevents the ever-more invasive State from taking much closer and ever more prescriptive control of the industry. So much so that someone thought it worthwhile to use the ASA to trump up the semblance of white supremacism at Arla Foods of Leeds.

Think of the huge pretension that this represents. The massive self-centredness of people who think it's acceptable to counterfeit rage at (or who are deluded enough to actually believe in the existence of) Nazi dairymen bespeaks the triviality and obsession of large parts of this country. It's just fine and dandy to use up all those resources and to divert time from an organization that is intended to punish manufacturers who say that cigarettes contain vitamins or that their aftershave attracts women to everyone who wears it in order to fight off non-existent Nazi hordes
.

What point is there any more in standing by a political class (including the 'Conservatives') which goes along with this enthusiastically; that lets the race-hustlers and the victim-herds rule over us: who stop our mouths with curses and slanders, and who prevent the issues that might save the lives of people of all races from ever being discussed?

And many people have got the point.

We are mostly sober, decent(-ish in my case), law-abiding people who mean no harm to anyone. Our hearts aren't full of hatred for 'The Other', nor dreams of conquest, nor spiffy uniforms, nor shattered glass and beer-house brawling. We fear for our children's futures and for our own safety and yet as we watch our legislators troughing on the very best in life that we taxpayers can provide whilst we walk our own streets fearfully in some places (if at all) we know that any discussion, any mention of nationality and immigration will be met from all quarters with slanders and libels and abuse.

Tell me all you of the political-class of MPs and Westminster, Whitehall and Brussels insiders, if you're going to accuse any of racism at the first breath of criticism of your rainbow land, then why shouldn't we be hung for a Nazi cow as for a racist lamb?


And why shouldn't we hang you out to dry come June on the rope that we paid for but which you stole?



Illustration from The Sun.

2 comments:

James Higham said...

Chuckle. Well put.

Beware of Geeks bearing GIFs said...

Seconded! Well done - it's getting to the point where we need to don our pitchforks and carry on like a Mary Shelley novel.

 

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