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Nil Inultum Remanebit

 

I never liked Berlusconi for the many reasons you all know, but I still had the hope for many years that if not personal conviction, at least a sense of elementary decency would prevent him from supporting the homo agenda.

Berlusconi has lived, politically speaking, for many years on the many who knew he is a pig, but chose to vote for him because this pig would defend, and be it only for political opportunity, the values they cherished.

In these two decades, many of these voters have died, and a new generation of value-free voters has been moving the social centre of gravity of the Country. A shocking demonstration of this was during the last electoral campaign, when Barlusconi's camp announced a massive offensive on traditional values, which was then immediately forgotten. No doubt, the extensively used poll institutes had told Berlusconi this was not a winning horse anymore, and perhaps a clearly losing one.

I knew Berlusconi is an opportunistic bastard. I was, though, not prepared for this morning's newspaper headlines, announcing his words of strong support for the homosexualist agenda, and his concubine's membership of “ARCI Gay” (a formerly Communist perverts' organisation), with the declaration made even more offensive from the concubine's statement that she is, being the concubine of a married man, also not new to victimisation.

This being Italy, the newspapers gravitating in Berlusconi's area today suddenly discover the importance of “battles” to give “justice” to perverts. It truly, truly, truly makes one vomit.

Whilst resistance remains, it is now clear civil partnerships are a done deal, and this will be only the start. Make no mistake, homo marriage and adoptions for perverts will follow shortly thereafter. The country demands a great jump backwards, or better said a great jump in an ocean of shit. It will get what it deserves. May it enjoy every mouthful of it.

I read these news in shock – a shock only partially mitigated by the fact I knew it would happen at some point; but in fact caused by the sudden, shameless, French-style abandonment of the front from Berlusconi and his people – and think of the shock of millions of faithful Catholics in the Seventies, when the then ruling Democrazia Cristiana allowed his MPs and voters to vote “according to conscience” in matter of divorce and abortion; a cowardly subterfuge which, no doubt, will be used this time, too.

The mask has been thrown away, and the chosen occasion was the “pervert pride day” of yesterday.

Now let me think, what has the Pope spoken about yesterday? When the local clergy is the first to work against Christianity, how can the Christian front win?

The only thing that helps me to keep sanity in the now fast sinking of my Country into a pit of perversion is the thought that Up There everything is seen, and accurately recorded. Liber scriptum proferetur, in quo totum continetur. I know that the Angels will give witness of Berlusconi's and his men shameless behaviour, and of the clergy's betrayal; starting, of course, from the Unholy Father himself.

They may think that He Who has made the eye has no eyes to see, and He Who has made the ear has no ears to hear. Fools.

I wish hell to no one, and even today I will have to find the strength to pray for Berlusconi's, his lackeys' and his concubine's salvation.

But on days like this one one gets to understand, to feel on his very skin, why hell exists and why it is so profoundly, majestically just that it be so.

May a merciful God keep me and them away from it.

But it is a just God, and a Rex tremendae majestatis. I at least have not forgotten it, wretched sinner as I undoubtedly am. They (Francis, Berlusconi, and their lackeys and concubines) have, and trample the Truth for their own shameless, coldly calculated advantage. Openly, arrogantly, under the sun. Celebrated by the world, supported by an army of stupid cows and oxes oblivious of God, of Truth, of Punishment.

I know countless angels see, and cry to Heaven. On this day, allow me to say that the words of the Requiem give one a great consolation:

nil inultum remanebit.

Nothing will remain unpunished.

Mundabor

 

 

The Rise And Fall Of David Cameron

Add atheism, and you have the picture.

Not many years ago, Cameron was seen as the best invention after sliced bread. Chosen in preference to the solidly conservative, but hopelessly rigid David Davies – a man whose renditions of a member of the Politburo made him a legend in his own time – Cameron won the sympathies of the party by promising to let it remain conservative, but presenting this conservatism in a new, more attractive and dynamic package.

He was elected, and soon things became to go wrong. Conservatives started to discover the new Cameron had time for hoodies, was after every fashion of the day – remember the hybrid car? And what about the ridiculous attempt of installing an opprobrious windmill on his roof? – and was beginning to talk in a very dangerous way, like a thinner and paler Oprah.

Soon the rumour went around it would be accepted that 50% of the party members would give back their cards. No doubt, they would be replaced by other, new party members.

In the meantime, the fashion craze went on. The party had now become “green”, to the point of changing its symbol for a ridiculous (green) tree. Whatever was hip and progressive, had the attention of the party leader. The man was positively intent in letting his voters forget he was a conservative.

But slowly, things had began to change. Already at the European elections (proportional vote, and a lot of EU questions unanswered by the party) in June 2009 the UKIP had got a huge rise in votes. The Cameroons still weren’t worried, and dismissed the UKIP’s now impressive record as a protest vote, which would disappear as soon as something important was at stake. They didn’t want to see the majority at the next election was gone already.

Then the election came, and the problems became serious. Cameron made a mistake whose consequences he is paying to this day, and which will probably cost him his skin. He managed to impose to the party around 100 utterly un-conservative Conservative candidates, many of them in safe constituencies, and clearly meant to continue to sabotage Conservatism. Once again, Cameron behaved as if Conservatism was the real enemy, instead of Brown. His candidates were rapidly christened “Cameron cuties”, and were mostly “tokens” in some way or other: token women, token minorities and, of course, token poofs.

The “cuties” were meant to give a fresh face to the party. They gave it a bloody nose instead.

On election day, the country assisted to the incredible show of a Conservative candidate not managing to get a majority against the most embarrassing opponent who ever fought – or ever is to fight – a leadership election. Gordon Brown let David Brent appear eminently electable, and I often surprised myself hoping his mother was already dead, in order not to have to endure the  humiliation.

The election came, the Cameron “cuties” got a big punch in their politically correct face, and Cameron missed the easiest victory in human memory; but in his posh boy arrogance, he failed to see the warning signs and through an unholy alliance with a bunch of atheist, sodomites and “allied” of both, managed to get at the top.

The “love in” in the garden of Number Ten will probably haunt him for life, as he and his atheist girlfriend Clegg gave a rather disturbing show of how un-Conservative the new PM wanted to be, and how proud he was of it. Conservatism was buried in that gloriously sunny day, amidst the  vaguely creepy glances between the two. I can’t remember if they got to the point of holding hands;  if they didn’t, they certainly thought about it. Romeo and Romeo were, finally, in power.

At this point, Cameron stopped to be conservative altogether. In his arrogant, posh boy mind he and his new civil partner Clegg would solidly take control of the centre ground and, from there, live happily ever after in their Downing Street castle. Conservative values were at this point all but forgotten; the electors were expected to vote for him, be glad he was born, and generally shut up whilst they are modernised.

In the meantime, Cameron was becoming not only “modern”, but actively anti-Christian; not because of personal convictions (of which there is no trace whatsoever in his entire political life) but because his civic boyfriend Clegg was increasingly under pressure, and needed some scalp to justify his party’s existence as a power machine.

At this point, it got really bad. Cameron’s arrogance in criticising the owners of a B&B ( a private house, mind) not wanting to have sodomites under their roof was only surpassed by his stupidity in declaring homosexual marriage “conservative”, because family and commitment are, allegedly,  conservative values, or so he “feels” (hear this? “Feel”? Very modern, isn’t it? I “feel”. What do I care for what is right? Sounds good, anyway…). Truly, it was as stupid as this, and it goes to show all the extent of Cameron’s arrogance and his belief that you can get away with pretty much everything, provided you package it in an acceptable way.

It went on: recently, it became known the government planned to take position against the British plaintiffs in a legal controversy in front of the European Court of human rights for the right to wear a cross at work, and at this point it’s fair to say all common sense had been thrown out of the window. Someone should have told Cameron about “in hoc signo vinces”, but they were probably sipping champagne too hard, and thought Christianity boring and old-fashioned anyway; particularly the girlfriend, an open atheist.  To this, a couple of other blunders were added in a Government now resembling a bunch of crack addicts who had lost every contact with reality: the humiliating revolt about Europe, with more than eighty MPs reacting to the triple whip (stupid and senseless bullying, this) by whipping the PM in the face, and the growing dissatisfaction about another “modernisation” scalp, the reform of the Lords. 

Only at this point, even the extremely patient, amiable, cricket-loving, Waitrose-buying, gin-and-tonic sipping Conservative England decided enough is enough, and Cameron got punched in the face until his arrogant, artificial smile had all but gone away. Osborne got the same punches, but as he always looked like a seventeen-years-old who doesn’t know why he is there and what he’s doing, no one really noticed.

It might, now, well be too late for Cameron to recover. Too much did he compromise himself with every piece of garbage under the sun, and his public persona will not be so easily recycled after years of love-ins in the garden, hoodie hugging, Christians-bashing, Cameron cutie-ing, sodomy-approving, and general inability to have any idea of what happens outside of his champagne-sipping circle of liberals and perverts.

Today, Cameron did something rather new: self-criticism in Russian style. Old tart that he is, he is hoping to gain the favour of his clients by promising he will now be most willing to satisfy their every desire. That’s Cameron for you: a moral vacuum, filled with hot air.

So, Cameron says he gets the message. The problem is whether the conservative electorate got his: Cameron is a slimy, lying, opportunistic, mediocre clown with a posh voice and no clue of conservatism, and who would sell his mother to whoredom before you can say “hug a hoodie” if this would only help him to stay in power. I follow politics since I am a little child, and I have never seen such a… one as this one.

In the meantime, the tree on the internet site is blue again. A blue tree. Now that‘s smart, and modern…

Cameron has, today, recognised the necessity of being more Conservative. You can be rather sure the matter of sodomarriage will now be buried as quietly as possible. But the question is: why should the party leave the task to become Conservative again to him, instead of entrusting the job to a Conservative?

I might be wrong, and it will take some time. But I think the writing might already be on the wall.

Mundabor

 

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