You will have seen the 'Project 729' link in the sidebar, dearest reader - the one which encourages people to engage in a voluntaryist boycott of the tribalist genocidal AshkeNazi enclave in occupied Palestine.
For those naysayers who think that such things don't do anything concrete, consider that the aforementioned enclave has suffered such a decline in trade, that it has started engaging in typical deceptive behaviour - bribing supermarkets (even in Australia) to put domestic labels on oranges from Jaffa. There have been stories in the Israeli press about it, and The Lobby whines about it all the time. So it's working.
Well before I learned of the global campaign, I started boycotting 729 products when the local Carrefour helpfully pointed out that the sweet potatoes they stocked were from the aforementioned enclave. So... every time we were in the vegetable section, I made a point of saying "Regarde, cherie... les patate-douces proviennent d'"Israel". Faut pas les acheter." (It's hard to embed the [sic] quotation marks when speaking - the word 'Israel' must always be in quotes when applied to the AshkeNazi enclave of racist thugs.)
Now while Tel Aviv is renowned as being far more liberal' than J'lem, and while any person who migrated to the aforementioned enclave with the aid of the government-of-occupation has a moral duty to leave the country and repudiate the occupation, it is still excellent to see the story in Haaretz indicating that a Tel Aviv vegan bar bans IDF soldiers and products from settlements.
With the relatively easy demasking of the 'Iranian Green revolution' as a US/Israeli psy-op (one thing about Twitter is that it makes tracing the origin of tweets relatively easy), the ZioNazi Axis of Genuine Evil is a step closer to self-immolation - soon the only audience they will have will be each other and they can feel free to circle-jerk themselves raw.
You'll have noticed the absence of market-based Rants on Friday - that's because I actually did come down with something that did a reasonable rendition of Swine Flu. I spent most of the weekend trying new and interesting ways to drain preternaturally green, thick goo from my lungs.
Of course it was just normal seasonal flu, that kills about twenty people a week during the colder months. It was never going to do me any real harm because I'm not immune-suppressed - that is to say, I'm not
- a formula-fed infant (to repeat point 1 above);
- an oldie-von-mouldy;
- an IV druggie; or
- a 'catcher' in the fudge-packer scene.
Nothing against any of those categories - 'Do what thou wilt' in your private life so long as you don't use aggressive violence.
Still, in the depths of Saturday night as my breath became bubbly and my coughing fits registered on seismographs in the South Pacific, I was seized by the thought that perhaps this habit of thumbing one's nose at the Cosmos carries the risk of a hideously ironic early death (e.g., call 'bullshit' on Swine Flu, die of Swine Flu four days later).
It would be genuinely funny if such a thing happened. And I have an epitaph ready for such an eventuality:
"I Bet Everybody I Wanted Dead, Died Before I Did".