Prat of 2017 – We have a winnah!

Posted by Pointman on December 22, 2017 · 21 Comments 

Okay, I’m calling it. Ignore all the early exit polls and the prognostications of the cream of punditry – the final results are in for Prat of the Year 2017!

It was a quite subdued start with several people taking the lead in terms of votes, but in the final straight one big winner galloped away with the contest. Momentarily, Australia looked to be walking it, but the Pratties, like life, is an unpredictable thing, so let’s go through the finishing positions; whose nose got over the line and in which order they did so.

In fifth place, and my personal favourite, we have Emma Thompson, the complete showbiz luvvie who’ll no doubt end up as the star in some totally forgettable BBC light entertainment series complete with the irritating canned laughter. Gawd, I’m starting to write the bloody script of the wretched thing already; she’s the sensible grownup one in the centre, surrounded by pastiche idiots, the usual sexism of a clueless and idiotic husband floating around and charmingly innocent children, one male, one female, coming to grips with the problems of life in medialand rather than the real world, but the requisite bit of serious moralising on things like dwarfphobia every third episode.

Winding in the almost obligatory by now black or more fashionably a Muslim person into the show might be a problem, but no doubt they can be pitched as her neighbour. Of course, they’ll be the only other sensible person on the program, and Emma can exchange knowing smirks with her about whatever ism these retarded white people are getting up to. Such is television land tokenism, and it really isn’t doing anyone any favours, even the tokenised who might possibly resent the caricatures of how they’re being presented by media liberals who know everything there is to know about the proper care and maintenance of such pets.

After one series of a tepid reception by even the most indolent of couch potatoes, who could just as easily be entertained by a ball of wool being pulled along the carpet with a string, the next series mercifully won’t appear and thankfully that’ll be end of career, or perhaps that’s just wishful thinking on my part. It probably is.

The abiding image I’ve got of her is pretending to cook hamburgers in some God forsaken field for the other ten beyond their sell by date hippie protesters against a fracking application. There were another twenty people present; all media people furiously snapping her daintily serving out the burgers, when the farmer, whose land they were illegally trespassing on, drove by on his tractor pulling a slurry dispenser tank behind it. Slurry, if you don’t know, is a fertiliser which is essentially the liquidised shit of farm animals. He circled them and started spraying the aforesaid slurry all over the lot of them.

Needless to say, no pictures of that protest outcome surfaced at the Guardian or BBC.

In fourth, we have Elon Musk. Speaking as a person who’s paid his dues in making a few early and expensive investment decisions using his heart rather than his head, I can’t see any one of his multiple whippy dippy business enterprises which isn’t a we’ll have jam in ten or fifteen years time sort of deal. Learning what’s worth investing in is like learning to play poker. You have to take those initial painful losses just to learn how to play the game. If you’re still losing after six months, walk away from the table, and never come back. However, if you start winning, every pigeon in the room is yours to pluck.

As my mother used to say, a fool and their money are soon parted, and all those fashionable investment funds heavily invested in his myriad of stylish endeavours will soon find out how apposite that useful piece of folk wisdom is.

He’s not exactly a Charles Ponzi, but there are heavy whiffs of it off him and he certainly knows how to throw the media off track when a doubtful voice is raised about his business acumen. I particularly admired his last move when an investment guru (aka another 12 yo who should be out on his bicycle flinging newspapers onto people’s front lawns), ran the numbers on Elon and sorta got the vague feeling that they simply didn’t add up in this universe, or any other bloody alternative universe either.

In response, Elon announced to his fanboy media that he had deep concerns about artificial intelligence and that some sort of terminator robots would end up killing us all. What did they do? The idiots ran with the robot story which essentially buried the investment downgrade of him. If your final salary pension fund is reliant on decisions made by that sort of financial genius press, I’d start stuffing your mattress with cash right now. Seriously. With the tulip bubble of bitcoin going on and the Dow Jones going through the roof, the Krugerrand is beginning to look cheap.

The last people to make any money out of him will that rare beast, a forensic accountant, picking over the books of the whole collapsed house of cards.

In third place we have Angela Merkel, which I think is a very poor showing, but perhaps that’s a reflection of this being an elective English language blog. Across most of western Europe, she’s despised, if not absolutely bloody hated, for having stabbed in the heart the diverse cultures that actually produced something of any real note since the fourteenth century. She dictated the dropping of all national borders and swung open the gates of the city to the barbarian invaders.

Within mainland Europe and leaving aside the hopelessly pro-EU mass media, she’s commonly seen as the reason women in Sweden and Germany are now afraid to come out of their house after dark for fear or rape or brutality by foreign invaders who regard women as somewhere between camels and bitch dogs who’ve had their sexual organs hacked off with a rusty knife when they were mere per-pubescent girls. That’s what’s been sold to us as cultural enrichment, by the way, and increasingly people are not buying it.

She was nominated by the readership here, and I therefore had to run her, but she’s not really a prat. There’s a blind spot, a rather light side to being a prat, which she simply doesn’t possess. In a decades since the 60’s when every German behind the iron curtain was literally risking their life escaping East Germany, her Marxist fanatic academic father took his family in the other direction, and she grew up in East Germany and prospered there, rising rapidly up the Cominterm committees to become a star. That essentially controlling and dictatorial impulse of Soviet communism still burns bright in her, and it’s only thinly concealed to this very day.

At heart, she’s still a fanatic globalist Marxist rather than a prat, and because in all but name, she’s running the EU, it’s that very same fanaticism combined with the usual touch of French arrogance which she’s driving and which is currently tearing it apart, although that won’t become apparent until the end of this decade. Her indirect dictatorial impulses several years ago holed the ship of the United States of Europe well below the waterline, and if you’ve been looking carefully, it’s been steadily taking on water and sinking since well before Brexit.

Brexit itself was just the final admission that the growing sense across Europe that while economic union was self-evidently desirable, a forced political union was never going to be acceptable, especially to the stronger members, who knew they’d be the ones who’d have to pay for it, but who were also the ones with the most to lose in terms of sovereignty. Nobody voted for all those people in Brussels calling the shots, and that’s unacceptable to the people of old established democracies. There can be no truce with kings, and that was in essence decided long ago in a meadow at a place called Runnymede.

The EU is splintering, not just in the commonly acknowledged West / East direction with the latter and their strong sense of national identity raising questions about whether being in the EU has any real commercial benefit, but also the North / South one, as people like the Greeks are thinking seriously about why they should be ruled by some unelected bureaucrats in Brussels. Angela absolutely thinks she knows what’s best for them all, but increasingly, they don’t agree.

Europe’s score with Germany’s attempted domination of it is currently running at 2-0 in our favour, and there’s a growing feeling that however touchy feely we’re being legged over, it’s not going to be let go to 2-1. Not going to happen Angela, and that resolve is hardening all across Europe.

At number two, we have Malcolm Turnbull, the current PM of Australia. He’s the head of what’s called the Liberal party locally, which means the right wing of the political spectrum that exists in most democracies. He’s sort of a weird character by anyone’s standards – even the Aussies who’re known for their rather caustic sense of humour. He nearly broke his plastic glued-on vagina trying to flirt his way into the main left-wing party, who after a slightly distasteful glance at him, politely refused his butt wiggling blandishments. They’d already had more than enough problems at the time, so he immediately converted to the other side, who for reasons known to only God or the insane, decided to take him in to their bosom like plucking a freezing Dickensian orphan out of the snow.

The rest, as they say, is history. A right-wing party ended up being led by a clueless left winger, who is quite content to prostitute and give away the mineral crown jewels of a country like Australia, simply because “it’s the right thing to do”, and the rest of the party appear to be quite content to go along with it. As with all multi-millionaires, he’s quite happy to fritter away money, just as long as it isn’t his. I know there are some strong emotions and arguments swirling around that as a nation’s policy, so next year could be quite interesting down under.

I also know 25% of the readership here are Aussies and without wishing to give offense, there are times when I find their mainstream party politics nearly like something out of a Ruritanian opera buffa. Everybody votes for a leader of the country, and barely six months into his reign, he gets stabbed between the shoulder blades by someone in his own party, with the net result being the country ends up being led by someone they’ve barely heard of, never mind voted for in the first place.

It’s time for a totally new type of leader in Aussie politics, and judging by the success of the long odds outsider in America, who was never supposed to win, I’d go for someone who has the balls to say Make Australia Great Again (MAGA, strangely enough). It’s a great country and deserves commensurate leadership after decades of being led by mediocrities who put Australia last, rather than first, and who also seem eternally to be mired in corruption, as if that’s a natural consequence of political life.

It isn’t. It’s actually possible to give service to your country and the people who were a part of the making of you, and whom you genuinely love, without the desire to become rich, just as long as you know you ran the full race until the last heart-bursting thrust of your chest towards the finishing tape before you collapsed.

Finishing first by a comfortable margin, the winner of Prat of the Year 2017 is Hillary Clinton. With her history, this is an all-time low for the Pratties, and that’s bloody-well saying something. She was fired as a junior attorney in the 70’s when attached to the Watergate investigation for dishonesty and lack of integrity, but it’s amazing how such dubious types never give up, and are always desperate to get back on the rung of the power ladder.

We’re talking here about someone who left the White House with nearly a quarter of a million dollars of fixtures and fittings she fancied stripping out of it, but had to be returned, since those fuddy duddy nobodies but curators of a few centuries of gifts to the Presidency of the United States of America said they’d run the wholesale stripping of the valuables of the White House through every court in the land.

Like all bullies when fronted up, she folded and all the stolen goods were returned to the White House. It really does say something when all the household nobodies charged with the preservation of some items of history stand and fight for those items, against the massive sense of entitlement of its transitory occupants, the most dishonest of whom view it as some sort of perk to loot it on their way out of the building.

The head nobody took the usual vengeful Clinton bullet for perhaps preserving the more lasting memorabilia of people and times a lot better than the greedy Arkansas trailer trash that is in essence the Clintons. If they hadn’t, the Clinton foundation would have auctioned all the loot off via eBay and that would have been that. Money is money after all, and let’s face it, greed or an ejaculation has always been the prime motivation of the Clinton dynasty in one form or another.

Contrast that essential greed and rapaciousness with the current White House’s occupant.

“I don’t want to be paid a salary as president, because I don’t need one”.

“But Mr Trump, you have to, by law”.

“Okay, what’s the minimum I can be paid by America to do the job as president?”

“One dollar”.

“Deal”.

That’s what he’s earning for all this strife, and that single annual dollar is automatically donated to the Veteran’s Administration. Go figure why a multi billionaire pushing over seventy would want that job for such a measly salary. Perhaps, it might even conceivably be something to do with love of country – who knows.

It’s amazing how tawdry some things turn out to be. Anyway, Hillary Clinton is the prat of the year, despite whingeing her way through the whole of it and proclaiming she got the name Hillary from her parents after Sir Edmund Hillary, who with Sherpa Tensing, were the first to get to the top of Everest. In the usual Clinton lying fashion, she was actually born six years before that particular achievement, but hey, let’s not spoil the narrative with a tiresome detail of evidence.

It saddens me, but Hillary Clinton has just been voted Prat of the Year 2017. Hang your heads in shame all you Prattie voters. There simply must have been something of even lower worth floating around in the cheese dick, bottom scraping, unflushable floater, skid marked underpants of a deep, depraved and at times disconsolate world. At last, she’s finally won something, and on a better justification than my hubbie used to be the president, I’m a woman, he’s shagged everyone with anything even vaguely resembling a vagina around us, and therefore I am entitled to be the next president of the USA.

But, when you think about it, on the past performance of her role as Secretary of State and things like the four bodies stacked up in Benghazi, the only tender mercy is she has a lot in common with Al Gore who also failed in a presidential election – just another very bad bullet America managed by some miracle of God to dodge.

©Pointman

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