from the quill of Antisthenes the Younger
Gillard decided to get re-elected in the Chinese Year of the Snake, and people are counting the days and hours to that announced date, hoping against hope that she told the truth for a change. If looking at a watch is a sure sign of misogyny, what is looking at the calendar? A double misogyny? Rest assured that her sisters-in-mangling-English at Macquarie Dictionary will come up with a convenient “1984” definition.
Though I don’t believe the date, I am, like many, puzzled. Saturday the 14th is Yom Kippur, a very significant date for Jews. If I remember correctly, they are supposed to stay home and avoid things unclean. It is hard to imagine anything less kosher than a massive fraud euphemistically called the elections. Or does she want to atone for her sins and repent? Sorry, a sick joke.
Perhaps Gillard’s Scottish personal trainer, when looking at a calendar, either thought Yom Kippur is a smoked herring or, more likely, he thought it would please the Labor prop -the anti-Semitic Greensparty; not to mention imams and mullahs directing the Islamic voting machinery in marginal electorates.
There could be other reasons for the date – perhaps a statute of limitations. This may come out in the proceedings of some future Royal Commission.
Appropriately, for the public declaration of the voting date our Prime Minister selected a kinky schoolmistress dress, though she hid the whip. Her hair was still red, but, perhaps as a hint to Lea Rhiannon,[Fog of Chaos – How Red was her valley] no longer crimson. One would think that with a live-in hairdresser who has nothing else to do it would not cost much to make her hair blonde (no mindless blondes jokes, please). But then Gillard has never associated with gentlemen.
Judas, of the New Testament fame, used to be painted with red hair; and obviously Kevin Rudd was not familiar with medieval religious paintings, having grown up, as he proudly claims, at the back of a station wagon. Come to think of it, many others in the Labor party could have benefited from visiting London galleries instead of compulsory viewing of the Marx grave at Highgate Cemetery; Trish Cressin being so far the last, springs to mind. Well, Gillard sticks to the red, and Labor has to live or die with that.
But let’s leave things like dresses, whips, hairdos and sex and concentrate on the matters more important to women – their persecution and exploitation by men, specifically and exclusively by non-Labor voting men. Gillard’s diminishing coven seemingly hopes that the women will show their intelligence and independence by voting as directed by those overweight and over-aged trade union apparatchiks who, via their puppets, i.e. Labor MPs will solemnly promise to love them exclusively and forever. Additionally, to female union members they will promise not to steal their union dues any more, and if so, spend the money only in unionised brothels. Perhaps McTernan, inspired by that Obama’s tasteful TV campaign ad, will come up with a slogan: Vote like Julia’s lady parts depended on it.
Of course, if women would indeed vote in bulk for Gillard it would provide a grist to the mill of those who believe that allowing a female vote was a crucial blow against a common sense. Some may even question of the wisdom of spending money on female education.
I hasted to mention that there can be no question of misogyny on the part of Fog of Chaos. If you count carefully, you will see that since the 30th January we published no less than 25 images of female faces, and only four male ones. No bias here, commissars.
A possibility exists that it will not be Ms Antrophy leading the party of True Believers in Hypocrisy a.k.a ALP to the elections, though when in May 2011 Paul Jacko envisaged her impending demise in The Ides of June he vastly overestimated the intelligence of Labor party members. He also grossly underestimated their masochistic desires. She, who must be obeyed, the screeching schoolmarm is there still, going from worse to worst. One of the would-be leaders of Australia, comrade Shorten, is so afraid of her that he agrees with whatever she said without wasting time to find out what it was. O, Labor! O, mores!