It's time I came
clean.
My real name is Hauptmann Otto von Totenkopf. I was created in a birthing chamber in a secret Antarctic base. When I reached the age of ascension, I was transported to Bridgend, where I emerged from the decaying remnants of Hut 9. The location was chosen because Brynteg's Colditz-esque architecture is the perfect environment for raising the next generation of evil.
It was decided upon Wales because, as we all know, history's greatest monsters originated from their smaller neighbours. Napoleon was Corsican. Hitler was Austrian. Stalin was Georgian. Thatcher was discovered on Rockall and raised by neo-liberal seagulls.
My mission is to not only usher in the Forth Reich, but to stop the decay of the Aryan race. Being dark-haired, dark-eyed and having the physique of a Turkish weightlifter made me the perfect person for the job.
I was given explicit orders to stamp out the insidious device used by the covetous, international Jew to stifle our march to glory – reiki.
I went undercover. A practitioner said I had too many chills. They also said I should be concerned about power supplies. So, on the way home, I peed against a substation. The effect was electrifying.
I went in determined to destroy it. But, ach du liebe Himmel! I was hot just like an oven. I couldn't believe my luck; all this talk of stones, rocks and soothing hummers.
I needed more. I considered attaching a car battery to my balls to give them a cheeky jump start, wearing a rubber suit for protection. But I feared I would end up in a Channel 4 documentary.
My commanders knew about it, and via a transmitter embedded in my brain, I was reminded why the mission was needed. I was reminded that public money in Wales was actively being sought after, or being spent on, stuff like this.
As Pixies once sang, "Your bone's got a little machine". They really do – osteoblasts and osteoclasts.
Similarly, the body has energy flows. I could bore you to death about mitochondria, glycolysis, the Krebs Cycle and oxidative phosphorylation. It's not a supernatural force, and shouldn't be to anyone who's passed GCSE Biology. The massive fusion reactor 150 million km away is a big hint, as should several hundred years of work within entire branches of science.
And the great thing is, we're discovering something new year after year. It's not set in stone, and it's fine to be "wrong". The whole point of science is to prove you're wrong, not prove there are absolutes in the universe or that there are mystical powers at work beyond our understanding.
If you want to think "alternative" therapies work, you're entitled to do so. You have every right to practice and seek them out. Nothing is as effective as homeopathy. The next time you're involved in a car crash, paramedics should have a herbal balm on hand to repair your ruptured qi, not your ruptured aorta.
The idea that anyone would even consider seeking public money for healing crystals, psychic mediums, oils that smell like wet dog or tickling feet, no matter how small the sum - whilst Wales-based researchers scrounge to fund peer-reviewed treatments for disease – is rather offensive.
Also, some practitioners might have a somewhat condescending attitude towards the locals, but are more than happy to redirect, or attempt to redirect, money aimed at the locals towards themselves. Money that should be spent providing jobs, infrastructure and upskilling one of Western Europe's poorest areas.
I was reminded that centres that would've provided martial arts training – which really could've improved health, social opportunities and well being - were bullied out of existence by the Welsh Government and civil service.
Some seem keen to link opposition to quackery with fascism, or characters like Goebbels. I mean, reiki's Japanese, isn't it? As everyone knows, the Japanese have a squeaky clean history with regard genocide and respect for human rights.
It's nice to know Hideki Tojo's atrocities can be brushed aside when it suits people, but the Germans – who've done as much for Wales down the years as the Japanese, none of which involving magic crystals or magic beans - will have to bare a stigma forever. How negative. If we're reducing everything to Godwin's Law and association fallacies, I'm going to raise the stakes a little bit.
The red on this blog symbolises blood. The white – a pure Europe. I've demonstrated time and again that I want entire races and ethno-religious groups mechanically exterminated. I want the continent cleansed of undesirable elements, not limited to :
Despite being reported to the police, I enjoy serenading my Polish neighbours by bellowing Horst Wessel Lied at the top of my lungs from the shower.
I goose-step around town, booting Chihuahuas dressed in tiny SS uniforms up the arse so they make "heil...heil...heil" noises as they arc down Adare Street. I then punch babies in the face to weed out the weak and eat kittens – picking out the cutest and most fearful to go to the deep fat frier.
I'm using Nazi pseudoscience to build a time machine so I can - not kill - but travel back in time and vote for Hitler myself. Or, travel to the mystical days of yore when Carmarthenshire was a functioning democracy. I doubt the laws of the universe are flexible enough for that though.
I'm developing arthritis in my right shoulder because I salute anything that looks remotely fascistic. Thanks to science, I know taking cod liver oil might help. But a collection of weeds and potpourri mixed with yak's urine won't.
Any relatives, or friends of relatives, who were killed or served in the Second World War trying to liberate Europe from fascism have been disowned. You never know, people being compared to Goebbels might be old enough to remember similar such people in their lives.
And I really, really hate Tottenham Hotspur.
Or maybe all this just means I don't like it when fellow bloggers are smeared when their bullshit detectors go off – regardless of whether I agree or disagree with them. But especially if I disagree with them.
My real name is Hauptmann Otto von Totenkopf. I was created in a birthing chamber in a secret Antarctic base. When I reached the age of ascension, I was transported to Bridgend, where I emerged from the decaying remnants of Hut 9. The location was chosen because Brynteg's Colditz-esque architecture is the perfect environment for raising the next generation of evil.
It was decided upon Wales because, as we all know, history's greatest monsters originated from their smaller neighbours. Napoleon was Corsican. Hitler was Austrian. Stalin was Georgian. Thatcher was discovered on Rockall and raised by neo-liberal seagulls.
My mission is to not only usher in the Forth Reich, but to stop the decay of the Aryan race. Being dark-haired, dark-eyed and having the physique of a Turkish weightlifter made me the perfect person for the job.
I was given explicit orders to stamp out the insidious device used by the covetous, international Jew to stifle our march to glory – reiki.
I went undercover. A practitioner said I had too many chills. They also said I should be concerned about power supplies. So, on the way home, I peed against a substation. The effect was electrifying.
I went in determined to destroy it. But, ach du liebe Himmel! I was hot just like an oven. I couldn't believe my luck; all this talk of stones, rocks and soothing hummers.
I needed more. I considered attaching a car battery to my balls to give them a cheeky jump start, wearing a rubber suit for protection. But I feared I would end up in a Channel 4 documentary.
My commanders knew about it, and via a transmitter embedded in my brain, I was reminded why the mission was needed. I was reminded that public money in Wales was actively being sought after, or being spent on, stuff like this.
As Pixies once sang, "Your bone's got a little machine". They really do – osteoblasts and osteoclasts.
Similarly, the body has energy flows. I could bore you to death about mitochondria, glycolysis, the Krebs Cycle and oxidative phosphorylation. It's not a supernatural force, and shouldn't be to anyone who's passed GCSE Biology. The massive fusion reactor 150 million km away is a big hint, as should several hundred years of work within entire branches of science.
And the great thing is, we're discovering something new year after year. It's not set in stone, and it's fine to be "wrong". The whole point of science is to prove you're wrong, not prove there are absolutes in the universe or that there are mystical powers at work beyond our understanding.
If you want to think "alternative" therapies work, you're entitled to do so. You have every right to practice and seek them out. Nothing is as effective as homeopathy. The next time you're involved in a car crash, paramedics should have a herbal balm on hand to repair your ruptured qi, not your ruptured aorta.
The idea that anyone would even consider seeking public money for healing crystals, psychic mediums, oils that smell like wet dog or tickling feet, no matter how small the sum - whilst Wales-based researchers scrounge to fund peer-reviewed treatments for disease – is rather offensive.
Also, some practitioners might have a somewhat condescending attitude towards the locals, but are more than happy to redirect, or attempt to redirect, money aimed at the locals towards themselves. Money that should be spent providing jobs, infrastructure and upskilling one of Western Europe's poorest areas.
I was reminded that centres that would've provided martial arts training – which really could've improved health, social opportunities and well being - were bullied out of existence by the Welsh Government and civil service.
Some seem keen to link opposition to quackery with fascism, or characters like Goebbels. I mean, reiki's Japanese, isn't it? As everyone knows, the Japanese have a squeaky clean history with regard genocide and respect for human rights.
It's nice to know Hideki Tojo's atrocities can be brushed aside when it suits people, but the Germans – who've done as much for Wales down the years as the Japanese, none of which involving magic crystals or magic beans - will have to bare a stigma forever. How negative. If we're reducing everything to Godwin's Law and association fallacies, I'm going to raise the stakes a little bit.
If anyone who opposes
quackery is a Nazi; I'm a bigger, riper, juicier, ready to burst Nazi
than Hermann Göring.
The red on this blog symbolises blood. The white – a pure Europe. I've demonstrated time and again that I want entire races and ethno-religious groups mechanically exterminated. I want the continent cleansed of undesirable elements, not limited to :
- Justin Bieber fans
- People who walk too slowly
- People who wear glasses with no glass in them
- People who listen to metal
- People who don't listen to metal
- Robin van Persie
- People who wear daffodil hats at Wales rugby games
- The oaf with the skullet from the Safestyle UK adverts
Despite being reported to the police, I enjoy serenading my Polish neighbours by bellowing Horst Wessel Lied at the top of my lungs from the shower.
I goose-step around town, booting Chihuahuas dressed in tiny SS uniforms up the arse so they make "heil...heil...heil" noises as they arc down Adare Street. I then punch babies in the face to weed out the weak and eat kittens – picking out the cutest and most fearful to go to the deep fat frier.
I'm using Nazi pseudoscience to build a time machine so I can - not kill - but travel back in time and vote for Hitler myself. Or, travel to the mystical days of yore when Carmarthenshire was a functioning democracy. I doubt the laws of the universe are flexible enough for that though.
I'm developing arthritis in my right shoulder because I salute anything that looks remotely fascistic. Thanks to science, I know taking cod liver oil might help. But a collection of weeds and potpourri mixed with yak's urine won't.
Any relatives, or friends of relatives, who were killed or served in the Second World War trying to liberate Europe from fascism have been disowned. You never know, people being compared to Goebbels might be old enough to remember similar such people in their lives.
And I really, really hate Tottenham Hotspur.
Or maybe all this just means I don't like it when fellow bloggers are smeared when their bullshit detectors go off – regardless of whether I agree or disagree with them. But especially if I disagree with them.
You almost crossed the line with this one. Almost. More please.
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