The Hutchback is not normally an angry man. Yes, he performs hideous acts of barbarism on a daily basis, but these are not done out of anger, merely boredom.
(off topic: yes that was a reference to the Golden Dawn on tonight's Eastenders, what next Aleister Crowley turns up and sacrifices Minty to the god Horus).
These Bankers (or as we should refer to them Banksters) are set fair for a good few billion in bonuses. This is surely the equivalent of giving a mugger a tip after he has kneed you in the testicles and stolen your watch, wallet, and mobile phone.
So my prediction is that by the end of the year the world community will have set up prison islands in the South Atlantic, and we will ship the whole festering lot of them off to these desolate windblown frozen hellholes.
They can then sub-prime eachother to their hearts content.
Showing posts with label anger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anger. Show all posts
Monday, 9 February 2009
Sunday, 18 January 2009
Angry? Hell No! Just punch George Anderson.
27/11/08
Dr Nostrum was just reminded today of the futility of misdirected Anger.
There have been periodic moments of insight, such as when I attempted to kill Hutchback several years ago to either prove that, yes, I could indeed empathize with the mindset of a murderer however much he attempted to harangue me into the belief that I could not, or, that there was something fundamentally close to madness in my mind that could only be exorcised by proving how easy it was to prove it.
Fortunately, Hutchback had the good sense to throw his urine bucket over me, whereupon I punched his reinforced cellar door snapping part of my offending hand in two.
This taught me to always favour my cudgel as a means of abuse, which we have spoken of previously.
What reminded me today was the wonderful visage of Mr. George Anderson, king of Anger Management, popping into my mind.
I had seen him on a show where Griff Rhys Jones spent a couple of hours burying his head in his and everyone else's sand trying to figure out why he was tense and angry - the fact that he has 8 coffee's in the morning may have something to do with setting him on edge, but that too was lost in the desert that is his self awareness.
Anyhow, importantly for Dr Nostrum, he showed us dear George Anderson, who has built an industry pointing out the bleedin' obvious to people so self obsessed they sail right past asking themselves why they are angry and are only satisfied when they have paid thousands to have someone else ask them.
And the reason George Anderson helped me calm my anger was the instant diffusing effect of his beatific face, that looks as if every one of his patients has taken out their frustration on by punching him in the nose (go on - look him up), as Chief White Halfoat correctly identified as the only sensible way to deal with every Dr Nostrum on the planet (bar yours truly).
So, I have vowed to reserve my anger until the day I too have the chance to punch George Anderson in the nose.
I suppose, in George's defense, it's as good a way to make a fortune as any other.
Dr Nostrum was just reminded today of the futility of misdirected Anger.
There have been periodic moments of insight, such as when I attempted to kill Hutchback several years ago to either prove that, yes, I could indeed empathize with the mindset of a murderer however much he attempted to harangue me into the belief that I could not, or, that there was something fundamentally close to madness in my mind that could only be exorcised by proving how easy it was to prove it.
Fortunately, Hutchback had the good sense to throw his urine bucket over me, whereupon I punched his reinforced cellar door snapping part of my offending hand in two.
This taught me to always favour my cudgel as a means of abuse, which we have spoken of previously.
What reminded me today was the wonderful visage of Mr. George Anderson, king of Anger Management, popping into my mind.
I had seen him on a show where Griff Rhys Jones spent a couple of hours burying his head in his and everyone else's sand trying to figure out why he was tense and angry - the fact that he has 8 coffee's in the morning may have something to do with setting him on edge, but that too was lost in the desert that is his self awareness.
Anyhow, importantly for Dr Nostrum, he showed us dear George Anderson, who has built an industry pointing out the bleedin' obvious to people so self obsessed they sail right past asking themselves why they are angry and are only satisfied when they have paid thousands to have someone else ask them.
And the reason George Anderson helped me calm my anger was the instant diffusing effect of his beatific face, that looks as if every one of his patients has taken out their frustration on by punching him in the nose (go on - look him up), as Chief White Halfoat correctly identified as the only sensible way to deal with every Dr Nostrum on the planet (bar yours truly).
So, I have vowed to reserve my anger until the day I too have the chance to punch George Anderson in the nose.
I suppose, in George's defense, it's as good a way to make a fortune as any other.
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