Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in mr_ho's Blurty:

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Wednesday, March 15th, 2006
11:35 pm	Bloggers can't be Linked Sorry. Yes, there are great bloggers, some whom have gone on to make great book deals, become rich, and when they do they Become Woodward, Limbaugh, or Coullter-ish. Ratings Whores. No no no! many times No! Mr Ho want to kno ends this blog. =o) Remember this one thing and work towards that thought. Thought is faster than light else we couldn't measure it's speed. AckSyn JAckSyn (Comment on this)
11:31 pm	Bolton UN Stall GENERAL ASSEMBLY ESTABLISHES NEW HUMAN RIGHTS COUNCIL BY VOTE OF 170 IN FAVOUR TO 4 AGAINST, WITH 3 ABSTENTIONS Council Elections Scheduled for 9 May; Inaugural Meeting to Be Held on 19 June United Nations Member States today overwhelmingly approved the establishment of a new Human Rights Council, aiming to strengthen the world body’s machinery to promote and protect fundamental rights, and deal with major human rights offenders. Adopting a resolution by a recorded vote of 170 in favour to 4 against (Israel, Marshall Islands, Palau, United States), with 3 abstentions (Belarus, Iran, Venezuela), the General Assembly decided to set up the new Council to replace the Geneva-based Commission on Human Rights, which has come under fire for excessive politicization. (For details of the vote, see Annex.) Over objections from the United States that the resolution did not go far enough to exclude some of the world’s worst human rights abusers from membership in the new body, the 191-member Assembly approved the text, which decided “members elected to the Council shall uphold the highest standards in the promotion and protection of human rights, fully cooperate with the Council, and be reviewed under the universal periodic review mechanism, during their term of membership”. The resolution calls for the election of new Council members on 9 May 2006, and an inaugural meeting on 19 June. The Commission, which postponed its annual meeting earlier this week, awaiting a decision on the new Council in New York, will be abolished on June 16. The 47 members would be individually elected by an absolute majority of 96 votes of the General Assembly’s members. If the Council members failed to uphold high human rights standards, they could be suspended by a two-thirds majority vote by Assembly members present at the meeting. Boltom was president of the UN last month. The UN overhaul WILL be accomplished, but not under Bush, in my view, and that IS speculation, please feel free on this ABOVE topic to do so and link tangents one may find =) (Comment on this)
11:13 pm	just because.... Source: Naval War College Review, Vol. XXVII (May-June, 1975), pp. 51-108. Also in U.S. Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United States: 1950, Volume I. NSC 68: United States Objectives and Programs for National Security (April 14, 1950) A Report to the President Pursuant to the President's Directive of January 31, 1950 TOP SECRET [Washington,] April 7, 1950 Contents Terms of Reference Analysis I. Background of the Present World Crisis II. The Fundamental Purpose of the United States III. The Fundamental Design of the Kremlin IV. The Underlying Conflict in the Realm of Ideas and Values Between the U.S. Purpose and the Kremlin Design 1. Nature of the Conflict 2. Objectives 3. Means V. Soviet Intentions and Capabilities--Actual and Potential VI. U.S. Intentions and Capabilities--Actual and Potential VII. Present Risks VIII. Atomic Armaments A. Military Evaluation of U.S. and U.S.S.R. Atomic Capabilities B. Stockpiling and Use of Atomic Weapons C. International Control of Atomic Energy IX. Possible Courses of Action Introduction The Role of Negotiation A. The First Course--Continuation of Current Policies, with Current and Currently Projected Programs for Carrying Out These Projects B. The Second Course--Isolation C. The Third Course--War D. The Remaining Course of Action--A Rapid Build-up of Political, Economic, and Military Strength in the Free World Conclusions Recommendations TERMS OF REFERENCE The following report is submitted in response to the President's directive of January 31 which reads: That the President direct the Secretary of State and the Secretary of Defense to undertake a reexamination of our objectives in peace and war and of the effect of these objectives on our strategic plans, in the light of the probable fission bomb capability and possible thermonuclear bomb capability of the Soviet Union. The document which recommended that such a directive be issued reads in part: It must be considered whether a decision to proceed with a program directed toward determining feasibility prejudges the more fundamental decisions (a) as to whether, in the event that a test of a thermonuclear weapon proves successful, such weapons should be stockpiled, or (b) if stockpiled, the conditions under which they might be used in war. If a test of a thermonuclear weapon proves successful, the pressures to produce and stockpile such weapons to be held for the same purposes for which fission bombs are then being held will be greatly increased. The question of use policy can be adequately assessed only as a part of a general reexamination of this country's strategic plans and its objectives in peace and war. Such reexamination would need to consider national policy not only with respect to possible thermonuclear weapons, but also with respect to fission weapons--viewed in the light of the probable fission bomb capability and the possible thermonuclear bomb capability of the Soviet Union. The moral, psychological, and political questions involved in this problem would need to be taken into account and be given due weight. The outcome of this reexamination would have a crucial bearing on the further question as to whether there should be a revision in the nature of the agreements, including the international control of atomic energy, which we have been seeking to reach with the U.S.S.R. ANALYSIS I. Background of the Present Crisis Within the past thirty-five years the world has experienced two global wars of tremendous violence. It has witnessed two revolutions--the Russian and the Chinese--of extreme scope and intensity. It has also seen the collapse of five empires--the Ottoman, the Austro-Hungarian, German, Italian, and Japanese--and the drastic decline of two major imperial systems, the British and the French. During the span of one generation, the international distribution of power has been fundamentally altered. For several centuries it had proved impossible for any one nation to gain such preponderant strength that a coalition of other nations could not in time face it with greater strength. The international scene was marked by recurring periods of violence and war, but a system of sovereign and independent states was maintained, over which no state was able to achieve hegemony. Two complex sets of factors have now basically altered this historic distribution of power. First, the defeat of Germany and Japan and the decline of the British and French Empires have interacted with the development of the United States and the Soviet Union in such a way that power increasingly gravitated to these two centers. Second, the Soviet Union, unlike previous aspirants to hegemony, is animated by a new fanatic faith, anti-thetical to our own, and seeks to impose its absolute authority over the rest of the world. Conflict has, therefore, become endemic and is waged, on the part of the Soviet Union, by violent or non-violent methods in accordance with the dictates of expediency. With the development of increasingly terrifying weapons of mass destruction, every individual faces the ever-present possibility of annihilation should the conflict enter the phase of total war. On the one hand, the people of the world yearn for relief from the anxiety arising from the risk of atomic war. On the other hand, any substantial further extension of the area under the domination of the Kremlin would raise the possibility that no coalition adequate to confront the Kremlin with greater strength could be assembled. It is in this context that this Republic and its citizens in the ascendancy of their strength stand in their deepest peril. The issues that face us are momentous, involving the fulfillment or destruction not only of this Republic but of civilization itself. They are issues which will not await our deliberations. With conscience and resolution this Government and the people it represents must now take new and fateful decisions. II. Fundamental Purpose of the United States The fundamental purpose of the United States is laid down in the Preamble to the Constitution: ". . . to form a more perfect Union, establish justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity." In essence, the fundamental purpose is to assure the integrity and vitality of our free society, which is founded upon the dignity and worth of the individual. Three realities emerge as a consequence of this purpose: Our determination to maintain the essential elements of individual freedom, as set forth in the Constitution and Bill of Rights; our determination to create conditions under which our free and democratic system can live and prosper; and our determination to fight if necessary to defend our way of life, for which as in the Declaration of Independence, "with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor." III. Fundamental Design of the Kremlin The fundamental design of those who control the Soviet Union and the international communist movement is to retain and solidify their absolute power, first in the Soviet Union and second in the areas now under their control. In the minds of the Soviet leaders, however, achievement of this design requires the dynamic extension of their authority and the ultimate elimination of any effective opposition to their authority. The design, therefore, calls for the complete subversion or forcible destruction of the machinery of government and structure of society in the countries of the non-Soviet world and their replacement by an apparatus and structure subservient to and controlled from the Kremlin. To that end Soviet efforts are now directed toward the domination of the Eurasian land mass. The United States, as the principal center of power in the non-Soviet world and the bulwark of opposition to Soviet expansion, is the principal enemy whose integrity and vitality must be subverted or destroyed by one means or another if the Kremlin is to achieve its fundamental design. IV. The Underlying Conflict in the Realm of ideas and Values between the U.S. Purpose and the Kremlin Design A. NATURE OF CONFLICT The Kremlin regards the United States as the only major threat to the conflict between idea of slavery under the grim oligarchy of the Kremlin, which has come to a crisis with the polarization of power described in Section I, and the exclusive possession of atomic weapons by the two protagonists. The idea of freedom, moreover, is peculiarly and intolerably subversive of the idea of slavery. But the converse is not true. The implacable purpose of the slave state to eliminate the challenge of freedom has placed the two great powers at opposite poles. It is this fact which gives the present polarization of power the quality of crisis. The free society values the individual as an end in himself, requiring of him only that measure of self-discipline and self-restraint which make the rights of each individual compatible with the rights of every other individual. The freedom of the individual has as its counterpart, therefore, the negative responsibility of the individual not to exercise his freedom in ways inconsistent with the freedom of other individuals and the positive responsibility to make constructive use of his freedom in the building of a just society. From this idea of freedom with responsibility derives the marvelous diversity, the deep tolerance, the lawfulness of the free society. This is the explanation of the strength of free men. It constitutes the integrity and the vitality of a free and democratic system. The free society attempts to create and maintain an environment in which every individual has the opportunity to realize his creative powers. It also explains why the free society tolerates those within it who would use their freedom to destroy it. By the same token, in relations between nations, the prime reliance of the free society is on the strength and appeal of its idea, and it feels no compulsion sooner or later to bring all societies into conformity with it. For the free society does not fear, it welcomes, diversity. It derives its strength from its hospitality even to antipathetic ideas. It is a market for free trade in ideas, secure in its faith that free men will take the best wares, and grow to a fuller and better realization of their powers in exercising their choice. The idea of freedom is the most contagious idea in history, more contagious than the idea of submission to authority. For the breadth of freedom cannot be tolerated in a society which has come under the domination of an individual or group of individuals with a will to absolute power. Where the despot holds absolute power--the absolute power of the absolutely powerful will--all other wills must be subjugated in an act of willing submission, a degradation willed by the individual upon himself under the compulsion of a perverted faith. It is the first article of this faith that he finds and can only find the meaning of his existence in serving the ends of the system. The system becomes God, and submission to the will of God becomes submission to the will of the system. It is not enough to yield outwardly to the system--even Gandhian non-violence is not acceptable--for the spirit of resistance and the devotion to a higher authority might then remain, and the individual would not be wholly submissive. The same compulsion which demands total power over all men within the Soviet state without a single exception, demands total power over all Communist Parties and all states under Soviet domination. Thus Stalin has said that the theory and tactics of Leninism as expounded by the Bolshevik party are mandatory for the proletarian parties of all countries. A true internationalist is defined as one who unhesitatingly upholds the position of the Soviet Union and in the satellite states true patriotism is love of the Soviet Union. By the same token the "peace policy" of the Soviet Union, described at a Party Congress as "a more advantageous form of fighting capitalism," is a device to divide and immobilize the non-Communist world, and the peace the Soviet Union seeks is the peace of total conformity to Soviet policy. The antipathy of slavery to freedom explains the iron curtain, the isolation, the autarchy of the society whose end is absolute power. The existence and persistence of the idea of freedom is a permanent and continuous threat to the foundation of the slave society; and it therefore regards as intolerable the long continued existence of freedom in the world. What is new, what makes the continuing crisis, is the polarization of power which now inescapably confronts the slave society with the free. The assault on free institutions is world-wide now, and in the context of the present polarization of power a defeat of free institutions anywhere is a defeat everywhere. The shock we sustained in the destruction of Czechoslovakia was not in the measure of Czechoslovakia's material importance to us. In a material sense, her capabilities were already at Soviet disposal. But when the integrity of Czechoslovak institutions was destroyed, it was in the intangible scale of values that we registered a loss more damaging than the material loss we had already suffered. Thus unwillingly our free society finds itself mortally challenged by the Soviet system. No other value system is so wholly irreconcilable with ours, so implacable in its purpose to destroy ours, so capable of turning to its own uses the most dangerous and divisive trends in our own society, no other so skillfully and powerfully evokes the elements of irrationality in human nature everywhere, and no other has the support of a great and growing center of military power. B. OBJECTIVES The objectives of a free society are determined by its fundamental values and by the necessity for maintaining the material environment in which they flourish. Logically and in fact, therefore, the Kremlin's challenge to the United States is directed not only to our values but to our physical capacity to protect their environment. It is a challenge which encompasses both peace and war and our objectives in peace and war must take account of it. 1. Thus we must make ourselves strong, both in the way in which we affirm our values in the conduct of our national life, and in the development of our military and economic strength. 2. We must lead in building a successfully functioning political and economic system in the free world. It is only by practical affirmation, abroad as well as at home, of our essential values, that we can preserve our own integrity, in which lies the real frustration of the Kremlin design. 3. But beyond thus affirming our values our policy and actions must be such as to foster a fundamental change in the nature of the Soviet system, a change toward which the frustration of the design is the first and perhaps the most important step. Clearly it will not only be less costly but more effective if this change occurs to a maximum extent as a result of internal forces in Soviet society. In a shrinking world, which now faces the threat of atomic warfare, it is not an adequate objective merely to seek to check the Kremlin design, for the absence of order among nations is becoming less and less tolerable. This fact imposes on us, in our own interests, the responsibility of world leadership. It demands that we make the attempt, and accept the risks inherent in it, to bring about order and justice by means consistent with the principles of freedom and democracy. We should limit our requirement of the Soviet Union to its participation with other nations on the basis of equality and respect for the rights of others. Subject to this requirement, we must with our allies and the former subject peoples seek to create a world society based on the principle of consent. Its framework cannot be inflexible. It will consist of many national communities of great and varying abilities and resources, and hence of war potential. The seeds of conflicts will inevitably exist or will come into being. To acknowledge this is only to acknowledge the impossibility of a final solution. Not to acknowledge it can be fatally dangerous in a world in which there are no final solutions. All these objectives of a free society are equally valid and necessary in peace and war. But every consideration of devotion to our fundamental values and to our national security demands that we seek to achieve them by the strategy of the cold war. It is only by developing the moral and material strength of the free world that the Soviet regime will become convinced of the falsity of its assumptions and that the pre-conditions for workable agreements can be created. By practically demonstrating the integrity and vitality of our system the free world widens the area of possible agreement and thus can hope gradually to bring about a Soviet acknowledgement of realities which in sum will eventually constitute a frustration of the Soviet design. Short of this, however, it might be possible to create a situation which will induce the Soviet Union to accommodate itself, with or without the conscious abandonment of its design, to coexistence on tolerable terms with the non-Soviet world. Such a development would be a triumph for the idea of freedom and democracy. It must be an immediate objective of United States policy. There is no reason, in the event of war, for us to alter our overall objectives. They do not include unconditional surrender, the subjugation of the Russian peoples or a Russia shorn of its economic potential. Such a course would irrevocably unite the Russian people behind the regime which enslaves them. Rather these objectives contemplate Soviet acceptance of the specific and limited conditions requisite to an international environment in which free institutions can flourish, and in which the Russian peoples will have a new chance to work out their own destiny. If we can make the Russian people our allies in the enterprise we will obviously have made our task easier and victory more certain. The objectives outlined in NSC 20/4 (November 23, 1948) ... are fully consistent with the objectives stated in this paper, and they remain valid. The growing intensity of the conflict which has been imposed upon us, however, requires the changes of emphasis and the additions that are apparent. Coupled with the probable fission bomb capability and possible thermonuclear bomb capability of the Soviet Union, the intensifying struggle requires us to face the fact that we can expect no lasting abatement of the crisis unless and until a change occurs in the nature of the Soviet system. C. MEANS The free society is limited in its choice of means to achieve its ends. Compulsion is the negation of freedom, except when it is used to enforce the rights common to all. The resort to force, internally or externally, is therefore a last resort for a free society. The act is permissible only when one individual or groups of individuals within it threaten the basic rights of other individuals or when another society seeks to impose its will upon it. The free society cherishes and protects as fundamental the rights of the minority against the will of a majority, because these rights are the inalienable rights of each and every individual. The resort to force, to compulsion, to the imposition of its will is therefore a difficult and dangerous act for a free society, which is warranted only in the face of even greater dangers. The necessity of the act must be clear and compelling; the act must commend itself to the overwhelming majority as an inescapable exception to the basic idea of freedom; or the regenerative capacity of free men after the act has been performed will be endangered. The Kremlin is able to select whatever means are expedient in seeking to carry out its fundamental design. Thus it can make the best of several possible worlds, conducting the struggle on those levels where it considers it profitable and enjoying the benefits of a pseudo-peace on those levels where it is not ready for a contest. At the ideological or psychological level, in the struggle for men's minds, the conflict is worldwide. At the political and economic level, within states and in the relations between states, the struggle for power is being intensified. And at the military level, the Kremlin has thus far been careful not to commit a technical breach of the peace, although using its vast forces to intimidate its neighbors, and to support an aggressive foreign policy, and not hesitating through its agents to resort to arms in favorable circumstances. The attempt to carry out its fundamental design is being pressed, therefore, with all means which are believed expedient in the present situation, and the Kremlin has inextricably engaged us in the conflict between its design and our purpose. We have no such freedom of choice, and least of all in the use of force. Resort to war is not only a last resort for a free society, but it is also an act which cannot definitively end the fundamental conflict in the realm of ideas. The idea of slavery can only be overcome by the timely and persistent demonstration of the superiority of the idea of freedom. Military victory alone would only partially and perhaps only temporarily affect the fundamental conflict, for although the ability of the Kremlin to threaten our security might be for a time destroyed, the resurgence of totalitarian forces and the re-establishment of the Soviet system or its equivalent would not be long delayed unless great progress were made in the fundamental conflict. Practical and ideological considerations therefore both impel us to the conclusion that we have no choice but to demonstrate the superiority of the idea of freedom by its constructive application, and to attempt to change the world situation by means short of war in such a way as to frustrate the Kremlin design and hasten the decay of the Soviet system. For us the role of military power is to serve the national purpose by deterring an attack upon us while we seek by other means to create an environment in which our free society can flourish, and by fighting, if necessary, to defend the integrity and vitality of our free society and to defeat any aggressor. The Kremlin uses Soviet military power to back up and serve the Kremlin design. It does not hesitate to use military force aggressively if that course is expedient in the achievement of its design. The differences between our fundamental purpose and the Kremlin design, therefore, are reflected in our respective attitudes toward and use of military force. Our free society, confronted by a threat to its basic values, naturally will take such action, including the use of military force, as may be required to protect those values. The integrity of our system will not be jeopardized by any measures, covert or overt, violent or non-violent, which serve the purposes of frustrating the Kremlin design, nor does the necessity for conducting ourselves so as to affirm our values in actions as well as words forbid such measures, provided only they are appropriately calculated to that end and are not so excessive or misdirected as to make us enemies of the people instead of the evil men who have enslaved them. But if war comes, what is the role of force? Unless we so use it that the Russian people can perceive that our effort is directed against the regime and its power for aggression, and not against their own interests, we will unite the regime and the people in the kind of last ditch fight in which no underlying problems are solved, new ones are created, and where our basic principles are obscured and compromised. If we do not in the application of force demonstrate the nature of our objectives we will, in fact, have compromised from the outset our fundamental purpose. In the words of the Federalist (No. 28) "The means to be employed must be proportioned to the extent of the mischief." The mischief may be a global war or it may be a Soviet campaign for limited objectives. In either case we should take no avoidable initiative which would cause it to become a war of annihilation, and if we have the forces to defeat a Soviet drive for limited objectives it may well be to our interest not to let it become a global war. Our aim in applying force must be to compel the acceptance of terms consistent with our objectives, and our capabilities for the application of force should, therefore, within the limits of what we can sustain over the long pull, be congruent to the range of tasks which we may encounter. V. Soviet Intentions and Capabilities A. POLITICAL AND PSYCHOLOGICAL The Kremlin's design for world domination begins at home. The first concern of a despotic oligarchy is that the local base of its power and authority be secure. The massive fact of the iron curtain isolating the Soviet peoples from the outside world, the repeated political purges within the USSR and the institutionalized crimes of the MVD [the Soviet Ministry of Internal Affairs] are evidence that the Kremlin does not feel secure at home and that "the entire coercive force of the socialist state" is more than ever one of seeking to impose its absolute authority over "the economy, manner of life, and consciousness of people" (Vyshinski, The Law of the Soviet State, p. 74). Similar evidence in the satellite states of Eastern Europe leads to the conclusion that this same policy, in less advanced phases, is being applied to the Kremlin's colonial areas. Being a totalitarian dictatorship, the Kremlin's objectives in these policies is the total subjective submission of the peoples now under its control. The concentration camp is the prototype of the society which these policies are designed to achieve, a society in which the personality of the individual is so broken and perverted that he participates affirmatively in his own degradation. The Kremlin's policy toward areas not under its control is the elimination of resistance to its will and the extension of its influence and control. It is driven to follow this policy because it cannot, for the reasons set forth in Chapter IV, tolerate the existence of free societies; to the Kremlin the most mild and inoffensive free society is an affront, a challenge and a subversive influence. Given the nature of the Kremlin, and the evidence at hand, it seems clear that the ends toward which this policy is directed are the same as those where its control has already been established. The means employed by the Kremlin in pursuit of this policy are limited only by considerations of expediency. Doctrine is not a limiting factor; rather it dictates the employment of violence, subversion, and deceit, and rejects moral considerations. In any event, the Kremlin's conviction of its own infallibility has made its devotion to theory so subjective that past or present pronouncements as to doctrine offer no reliable guide to future actions. The only apparent restraints on resort to war are, therefore, calculations of practicality. With particular reference to the United States, the Kremlin's strategic and tactical policy is affected by its estimate that we are not only the greatest immediate obstacle which stands between it and world domination, we are also the only power which could release forces in the free and Soviet worlds which could destroy it. The Kremlin's policy toward us is consequently animated by a peculiarly virulent blend of hatred and fear. Its strategy has been one of attempting to undermine the complex of forces, in this country and in the rest of the free world, on which our power is based. In this it has both adhered to doctrine and followed the sound principle of seeking maximum results with minimum risks and commitments. The present application of this strategy is a new form of expression for traditional Russian caution. However, there is no justification in Soviet theory or practice for predicting that, should the Kremlin become convinced that it could cause our downfall by one conclusive blow, it would not seek that solution. In considering the capabilities of the Soviet world, it is of prime importance to remember that, in contrast to ours, they are being drawn upon close to the maximum possible extent. Also in contrast to us, the Soviet world can do more with less--it has a lower standard of living, its economy requires less to keep it functioning, and its military machine operates effectively with less elaborate equipment and organization. The capabilities of the Soviet world are being exploited to the full because the Kremlin is inescapably militant. It is inescapably militant because it possesses and is possessed by a world-wide revolutionary movement, because it ' is the inheritor of Russian imperialism, and because it is a totalitarian dictatorship. Persistent crisis, conflict, and expansion are the essence of the Kremlin's militancy. This dynamism serves to intensify all Soviet capabilities. Two enormous organizations, the Communist Party and the secret police, are an outstanding source of strength to the Kremlin. In the Party, it has an apparatus designed to impose at home an ideological uniformity among its people and to act abroad as an instrument of propaganda, subversion and espionage. In its police apparatus, it has a domestic repressive instrument guaranteeing under present circumstances the continued security of the Kremlin. The demonstrated capabilities of these two basic organizations, operating openly or in disguise, in mass or through single agents, is unparalleled in history. The party, the police and the conspicuous might of the Soviet military machine together tend to create an overall impression of irresistible Soviet power among many peoples of the free world. The ideological pretensions of the Kremlin are another great source of strength. Its identification of the Soviet system with communism, its peace campaigns and its championing of colonial peoples may be viewed with apathy, if not cynicism, by the oppressed totalitariat of the Soviet world, but in the free world these ideas find favorable responses in vulnerable segments of society. They have found a particularly receptive audience in Asia, especially as the Asiatics have been impressed by what has been plausibly portrayed to them as the rapid advance of the USSR from a backward society to a position of great world power. Thus, in its pretensions to being (a) the source of a new universal faith and (b) the model "scientific" society, the Kremlin cynically identifies itself with the genuine aspirations of large numbers of people, and places itself at the head of an international crusade with all of the benefits which derive therefrom. Finally, there is a category of capabilities, strictly speaking neither institutional nor ideological, which should be taken into consideration. The extraordinary flexibility of Soviet tactics is certainly a strength. It derives from the utterly amoral and opportunistic conduct of Soviet policy. Combining this quality with the elements of secrecy, the Kremlin possesses a formidable capacity to act with the widest tactical latitude, with stealth, and with speed. The greatest vulnerability of the Kremlin lies in the basic nature of its relations with the Soviet people. That relationship is characterized by universal suspicion, fear, and denunciation. It is a relationship in which the Kremlin relies, not only for its power but its very survival, on intricately devised mechanisms of coercion. The Soviet monolith is held together by the iron curtain around it and the iron bars within it, not by any force of natural cohesion. These artificial mechanisms of unity have never been intelligently challenged by a strong outside force. The full measure of their vulnerability is therefore not yet evident. The Kremlin's relations with its satellites and their peoples is likewise a vulnerability. Nationalism still remains the most potent emotional-political force. The well-known ills of colonialism are compounded, however, by the excessive demands of the Kremlin that its satellites accept not only the imperial authority of Moscow but that they believe in and proclaim the ideological primacy and infallibility of the Kremlin. These excessive requirements can be made good only through extreme coercion. The result is that if a satellite feels able to effect its independence of the Kremlin, as Tito was able to do, it is likely to break away. In short, Soviet ideas and practices run counter to the best and potentially the strongest instincts of men, and deny their most fundamental aspirations. Against an adversary which effectively affirmed the constructive and hopeful instincts of men and was capable of fulfilling their fundamental aspirations, the Soviet system might prove to be fatally weak. The problem of succession to Stalin is also a Kremlin vulnerability. In a system where supreme power is acquired and held through violence and intimidation, the transfer of that power may well produce a period of instability. In a very real sense, the Kremlin is a victim of, its own dynamism. This dynamism can become a weakness if it is frustrated, if in its forward thrusts it encounters a superior force which halts the expansion and exerts a superior counterpressure. Yet the Kremlin cannot relax the condition of crisis and mobilization, for to do so would be to lose its dynamism, whereas the seeds of decay within the Soviet system would begin to flourish and fructify. The Kremlin is, of course, aware of these weaknesses. It must know that in the present world situation they are of secondary significance. So long as the Kremlin retains the initiative, so long as it can keep on the offensive unchallenged by clearly superior counter-force--spiritual as well as material--its vulnerabilities are largely inoperative and even concealed by its successes. The Kremlin has not yet been given real reason to fear and be diverted by the rot within its system. B. ECONOMIC The Kremlin has no economic intentions unrelated to its overall policies. Economics in the Soviet world is not an end in itself The Kremlin's policy, in so far as it has to do with economics, is to utilize economic processes to contribute to the overall strength, particularly the war-making capacity of the Soviet system. The material welfare of the totalitariat is severely subordinated to the interest of the system. As for capabilities, even granting optimistic Soviet reports of production, the total economic strength of the U.S.S.R. compares with that of the U.S. as roughly one to four. This is reflected not only in gross national product (1949: USSR $65 billion; U.S. $250 billion), but in production of key commodities in 1949: U.S. USSR USSR and EUROPEAN ORBIT COMBINED Ingot Steel (million met. tons) 80.4 21.5 28.0 Primary aluminum (thousand met. tons) 617.6 130-135 140-145 Electric power (billion kwh) 410 72 112 Crude oil (million met. tons) 276.5 33.0 38.9 Assuming the maintenance of present policies, while a large U.S. advantage is likely to remain, the Soviet Union will be steadily reducing the discrepancy between its overall economic strength and that of the U.S. by continuing to devote proportionately more to capital investment than the U.S. But a full-scale effort by the U.S. would be capable of precipitately altering this trend. The USSR today is on a near maximum production basis. No matter what efforts Moscow might make, only a relatively slight change in the rate of increase in overall production could be brought about. In the U.S., on the other hand, a very rapid absolute expansion could be realized. The fact remains, however, that so long as the Soviet Union is virtually mobilized, and the United States has scarcely begun to summon up its forces, the greater capabilities of the U.S. are to that extent inoperative in the struggle for power. Moreover, as the Soviet attainment of an atomic capability has demonstrated, the totalitarian state, at least in time of peace, can focus its efforts on any given project far more readily than the democratic state. In other fields--general technological competence, skilled labor resources, productivity of labor force, etc.--the gap between the USSR and the U.S. roughly corresponds to the gap in production. In the field of scientific research, however, the margin of United States superiority is unclear, especially if the Kremlin can utilize European talents. C. MILITARY The Soviet Union is developing the military capacity to support its design for world domination. The Soviet Union actually possesses armed forces far in excess of those necessary to defend its national territory. These armed forces are probably not yet considered by the Soviet Union to be sufficient to initiate a war which would involve the United States. This excessive strength, coupled now with an atomic capability, provides the Soviet Union with great coercive power for use in time of peace in furtherance of its objectives and serves as a deterrent to the victims of its aggression from taking any action in opposition to its tactics which would risk war. Should a major war occur in 1950 the Soviet Union and its satellites are considered by the Joint Chiefs of Staff to be in a sufficiently advanced state of preparation immediately to undertake and carry out the following campaigns. a. To overrun Western Europe, with the possible exception of the Iberian and Scandinavian Peninsulas; to drive toward the oil-bearing areas of the Near and Middle East; and to consolidate Communist gains in the Far East; b. To launch air attacks against the British Isles and air and sea attacks against the lines of communications of the Western Powers in the Atlantic and the Pacific; c. To attack selected targets with atomic weapons, now including the likelihood of such attacks against targets in Alaska, Canada, and the United States. Alternatively, this capability, coupled with other actions open to the Soviet Union, might deny the United Kingdom as an effective base of operations for allied forces. It also should be possible for the Soviet Union to prevent any allied "Normandy" type amphibious operations intended to force a reentry into the continent of Europe. After the Soviet Union completed its initial campaigns and consolidated its positions in the Western European area, it could simultaneously conduct: a. Full-scale air and limited sea operations against the British Isles; b. Invasions of the Iberian and Scandinavian Peninsulas; c. Further operations in the Near and Middle East, continued air operations against the North American continent, and air and sea operations against Atlantic and Pacific lines of communication; and d. Diversionary attacks in other areas. During the course of the offensive operations listed in the second and third paragraphs above, the Soviet Union will have an air defense capability with respect to the vital areas of its own and its satellites' territories which can oppose but cannot prevent allied air operations against these areas. It is not known whether the Soviet Union possesses war reserves and arsenal capabilities sufficient to supply its satellite armies or even its own forces throughout a long war. It might not be in the interest of the Soviet Union to equip fully its satellite armies, since the possibility of defections would exist. It is not possible at this time to assess accurately the finite disadvantages to the Soviet Union which may accrue through the implementation of the Economic Cooperation Act of 1948, as amended, and the Mutual Defense Assistance Act of 1949. It should be expected that, as this implementation progresses, the internal security situation of the recipient nations should improve concurrently. In addition, a strong United States military position, plus increases in the armaments of the nations of Western Europe, should strengthen the determination of the recipient nations to counter Soviet moves and in event of war could be considered as likely to delay operations and increase the time required for the Soviet Union to overrun Western Europe. In all probability, although United States backing will stiffen their determination, the armaments increase under the present aid programs will not be of any major consequence prior to 1952. Unless the military strength of the Western European nations is increased on a much larger scale than under current programs and at an accelerated rate, it is more than likely that those nations will not be able to oppose even by 1960 the Soviet armed forces in war with any degree of effectiveness. Considering the Soviet Union military capability, the long-range allied military objective in Western Europe must envisage an increased military strength in that area sufficient possibly to deter the Soviet Union from a major war or, in any event, to delay materially the overrunning of Western Europe and, if feasible, to hold a bridgehead on the continent against Soviet Union offensives. We do not know accurately what the Soviet atomic capability is but the Central Intelligence Agency intelligence estimates, concurred in by State, Army, Navy, Air Force, and Atomic Energy Commission, assign to the Soviet Union a production capability giving it a fission bomb stockpile within the following ranges: By mid-1950 10-20 By mid-1951 25-45 By mid-1952 45-90 By mid-1953 70-135 By mid-1954 200 This estimate is admittedly based on incomplete coverage of Soviet activities and represents the production capabilities of known or deducible Soviet plants. If others exist, as is possible, this estimate could lead us into a feeling of superiority in our atomic stockpile that might be dangerously misleading, particularly with regard to the timing of a possible Soviet offensive. On the other hand, if the Soviet Union experiences operating difficulties, this estimate would be reduced. There is some evidence that the Soviet Union is acquiring certain materials essential to research on and development of thermonuclear weapons. The Soviet Union now has aircraft able to deliver the atomic bomb. Our Intelligence estimates assign to the Soviet Union an atomic bomber capability already in excess of that needed to deliver available bombs. We have at present no evaluated estimate regarding the Soviet accuracy of delivery on target. It is believed that the Soviets cannot deliver their bombs on target with a degree of accuracy comparable to ours, but a planning estimate might well place it at 40-60 percent of bombs sorted. For planning purposes, therefore, the date the Soviets possess an atomic stockpile of 200 bombs would be a critical date for the United States, for the delivery of 100 atomic bombs on targets in the United States would seriously damage this country. At the time the Soviet Union has a substantial atomic stockpile and if it is assumed that it will strike a strong surprise blow and if it is assumed further that its atomic attacks will be met with no more effective defense opposition than the United States and its allies have programmed, results of those attacks could include: a. Laying waste to the British Isles and thus depriving the Western Powers of their use as a base; b. Destruction of the vital centers and of the communications of Western Europe, thus precluding effective defense by the Western Powers; and c. Delivering devastating attacks on certain vital centers of the United States and Canada. The possession by the Soviet Union of a thermonuclear capability in addition to this substantial atomic stockpile would result in tremendously increased damage. During this decade, the defensive capabilities of the Soviet Union will probably be strengthened, particularly by the development and use of modem aircraft, aircraft warning and communications devices, and defensive guided missiles. Go to the next Section of NSC-68 Return to Vinnie's Home Page (Comment on this)
9:17 pm	dooH niboR Economics Foreign Aid Goes to Banks, Not Poor In Rolling Stone this month, Joshua Kurlantzick takes a look at the Bush administration's Millenium Challenge Corporation—which was supposed to revolutionize foreign aid by giving it only to countries that met certain accountability benchmarks—and discover that it's (shockingly) a disaster. (Comment on this)
9:03 pm	Iranian Business Turning on new Leader Just LIKE the people whom have turned on Bush, well Both of the Idiots need to go, if you were to ask me that is. Ennyhooo Tehran elite turning on extremist presidency By John R. Bradley THE WASHINGTON TIMES March 14, 2006 TEHRAN -- Iran's clerical and business establishments, deeply concerned by what they see as reckless spending and needlessly aggressive foreign policies, are increasingly turning against President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. Within this context, many see the president's long-running confrontation with the United States and Europe over Tehran's nuclear program as an attempt to demonize the West and distract the Iranian public from pressing domestic problems. A relatively small group of extremists "at the top of the government around the president" are seeking to benefit from a crisis with the West, because "that way they will be able once again to blame the West for all of their problems," said Mousa Ghaninejad, the editor of Iran's best-selling economics daily newspaper, Dunya Al-Eqtisad. Millions of low-income Iranians voted for the new president last year, motivated by his firm stand against corruption and pledges to give financial priority to their needs. "His appeal was to those for whom class discrimination is important, and his simple lifestyle gave an air of credibility to his claims," said Nasser Hadian, a political analyst at Tehran University who attended high school with Mr. Ahmadinejad. Chill out Bush Fecks and give the people time to speak. Thx. -Mr Ho (Comment on this)
8:03 pm	HIGH PORK FACTOR RISK!! (aka Fraud, abuse. You know.) http://www.gao.gov/docsearch/abstract.php?rptno=GAO-06-497T This statement also addresses several ongoing high-risk issues: (1) DOD cannot ensure that the more than $200 billion it spends annually is used wisely and results in weapon systems and capabilities delivered to the warfighter as originally promised, or that its business practices, such as the fees paid to its contractors, promote good acquisition outcomes; (2) the Postal Service has made significant progress in addressing some challenges related to its transformation efforts and long-term outlook but continues to face significant challenges, such as declining First-Class Mail volumes and an unsustainable business model, that threaten its financial viability; (3) although DHS has made some progress in the department's transformation and implementation, it continues to face significant challenges in several key areas, such as strategic planning, information sharing, disaster management and partnering with others; and (4) terminations of large underfunded pension plans have created a $23 billion deficit for PBGC's Single Employer Insurance Program and additional claims seem likely in the near future; legislation is pending to address various aspects of these problems. I'm Shocked! well after the last few months of Bush..I'm not really shocked. Nope. More Like Disgusted. (Comment on this)
Tuesday, March 14th, 2006
11:41 pm	Time Delayed Media..? Bush Iraq War Project Ignored, Media Informed http://www.thememoryhole.org/state/future_of_iraq/ (Get the FOIA released documents that pertain to the Project at link above -Kudos Kick! Starting in October 2001, about a year and a half before the US and its allies invaded Iraq, the State Department spearheaded an effort called the Future of Iraq Project. Dozens of Iraqi exiles and international experts were brought together to figure out how to create a new Iraq should Saddam Hussein somehow be taken out of power. Within the project, seventeen working groups covered such areas as the justice system, local government, agriculture, media, education, and oil. The various working groups began meeting in July 2002 and continued through March/April 2003. Twelve of the groups released reports. The project cost $5 million. The project's observations and recommendations were almost wholly ignored by the administration during its pre-war planning for the occupation. Soon after the invasion, though, CD-ROMs of the reports were sent to the staff of the Coalition Provisional Authority. http://www.thememoryhole.org/state/future_of_iraq/ Among other things, the working groups foresaw the widespread looting in the aftermath of invasion and warned against quickly disbanding the Iraqi Army. The project's reports have never been made available to the public. In October 2003, "Congressional officials" allowed two New York Times reporters to view the reports, but they were not allowed to take them. Upon reading this, I immediately filed a Freedom of Information Act request for the reports, which was granted in February 2006. Eight of the reports were released in their entirety, while the rest were redacted to some degree. I have scanned them and created a PDF file of each report, all of which are posted to the left. Ya Know, I was thinking this isn't the first delayed news as of late. (Comment on this)
3:52 pm	Bolton asked About Iraq Deja Vu on Iran.. Comedians might be forgiven for making jokes that President Bush is talking about drawing down U.S. forces in Iraq because he needs them next door in Iran. It isn’t, however, so far off the mark. http://www.tompaine.com/articles/2006/03/14/deja_vu_all_over_iran.php The pieces are falling into place for Operation Regime Change II, this time in Iran. You’d think, given how badly it went the first time, and how utterly unpredictable a showdown with Iran would be, that the Bush administration would have at least changed its m.o.—but no. Shaking his head in New York, where he was attending United Nations Security Council discussions on Iran, Russia’s Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov said bluntly: “It looks so déjà vu.” He ridiculed the idea of sanctions on Iran as useless and ineffective, and he called the U.S. push for a showdown over Iran’s alleged nuclear weapons program a “self-fulfilling prophecy.” He’s right. Even John Bolton, the neoconservative saber-rattler who represents the United States at the U.N., agrees. Said Bolton, when asked about Lavrov’s comment: “If that is déjà vu, then so be it, but that is the course we are on in an effort to get Iran to reverse its decision to acquire nuclear weapons.” Amazing isn't it? We the (Bush Admin) Sent Thousand of Troops to their deaths, perhaps 100,000 Iraqis, spent billions Shock and Awe, A million dollars for one missile, We the Bush Admin. Did all this based on the Hype of WMD weaoons. And NOW these same people want you to listen to THEM and to REPEAT the Iraqi DISASTER again? Do Bush and Bolton Care about Previous Lies? that caused unecessary deaths?, psychological damage?, War Costs? These men need some serious therapy. Amazingly, Frighteningly they Do Not. (Comment on this)
3:25 pm	Misremembered Intelligence A tnagent to this Article below, that I see, would be that through Kristol Media, An Ex CIA analayst produced books under the Name of Shirley, Mr Ruell Gerecht WHOM being a PNAC AEI Hawk wrote about the incompetence of the CIA. Cheney may have read this Book, or was Briefed by an AEI "Board" or "Panel" because he stated several Times that "Feiths Intelligence was the best" even though today we know that Feiths intelligence was the "best". For Starting a War. Yet though the CIA was incompetent, so was Feith, and today the papers are aghast with Neo-Cons who can't figure out why their "OPINIONS" were so wrong. Worse Perle and the other Think Tank Buffoons of AEI PNAC and other Related $Enterprise$ groups such as Fukuyama, Sullivan, Wolfowitz can not, WILL NOT concede that they were wrong, now we see them in the media doing what they do best Lay blame on everyone but themselves and continue their Fear Factor paranoid opinions much of it to suit self-serving self-promoting ends, lets put an end to 'think-tank' partisan Ideology and Ideocentrism. Heroes in Error – March/April 2006 issue, Mother Jones http://motherjones.com/letters/2006/03/iraqi_general.html In "Heroes in Error" reporter Jack Fairweather outlines how both FRONTLINE and the New York Times were duped by the Iraqi National Congress (INC) in the run up to the invasion of Iraq. Specifically, Fairweather says one of two defectors provided by the INC was an imposter. The defector claimed to have witnessed foreign Arab fighters training to hijack airplanes at the Salman Pak military facility south of Baghdad prior to 9/11. Your readers should know that checking inside Saddam's Iraq at the time of the broadcast on the bona fides of Iraqis who had fled the country was virtually impossible. FRONTLINE did its best to vet the interviews with American officials and hired our own translators. In the broadcast we noted that these two defectors had come to us through the INC, a group whose bias we identified. We quoted an American official who cast doubt on the defectors’ claims: "It is unlikely the training on the 707 is linked to the hijackings of September 11." We also interviewed the Iraqi Ambassador to the U.N., who told us: "I know the area, this Salman Pak. . . . It is not possible to do such a program there, because there's no place for planes, for airplanes there." Beyond these caveats, the program included such figures as Brent Scowcroft and Michael Sheehan who were cautious about much of the evidence against Saddam, specifically claims of a link between Iraq and the 9/11 hijackers. More importantly—and omitted from Fairweather’s article—is a 2003 FRONTLINE report in which we caught up with the INC leader Ahmed Chalabi and questioned him extensively on the false information that he and his organization had provided to FRONTLINE and others. Chalabi's answer then—"We're in Baghdad now"—was much the same as he gave to Fairweather two years later when he told him that the misinformation didn't matter. Clearly, what was said in print and over the airwaves before the war does matter. The Salman Pak story is a cautionary tale for all of us who are committed to tough investigative reporting. Well. Well. Those that Didn't connect the dots I'm gonna throw the bone =) http://www.tompaine.com/articles/2005/11/10/chalabi_and_aei_the_sequel.php The convicted embezzler, the suave fabricator of intelligence, and the secularist-turned-Shiite fundamentalist-turned-Iranian agent, the elusive subject of a slow-moving FBI spy investigation, and the self-described “hero in error” approached the podium at the American Enterprise Institute yesterday after a glowing introduction from Chris DeMuth, AEI’s president. After grumbling that the cherubic man he was about to introduce has been “defamed, undermined and attacked by agencies of the U.S. government,” DeMuth concluded: “Please give a warm welcome to this very great and very brave Iraqi patriot, liberal and liberator, Deputy Prime Minister Ahmed Chalabi.” He’s back. And one thing is clear—you can never, ever count Ahmed Chalabi out. As the cat has nine lives, Chalabi has an amazing ability to reinvent himself over and over, and he did so once again at AEI on Wednesday. Chalabi, who affected an aw-shucks manner, noted that it was the eighth time he’d spoken before the think tank that effectively launched his political career. To a packed house—so packed, in fact, that AEI pointedly disinvited your humble correspondent, who had to watch Chalabi in digital replay—Chalabi unloaded a campaign speech for his Iraqi National Congress election list. On December 15, Iraqis once more will go to the polls to vote for what will purport to be a permanent government. According to an Iraqi source, who spoke to me by telephone from Baghdad, the key to Chalabi’s five-week campaign plan is money. Another Iraqi, Aiham Al Sammarae, a key player in trying to bridge the divides among Iraq ’s ethnic and sectarian factions. agrees. “Money talks right now in Iraq,” says Al Sammarae. “Chalabi is paying money to all the media in Iraq. How much is he paying them? Where is he getting the money?” It isn’t clear, yet, what kind of reception Chalabi will get from official Washington, or even precisely why the United States is meeting with him at high levels. Even Danielle Pletka, the AEI vice president who is usually a reliable Chalabi partisan, seemed to be wondering aloud the same thing this week. “I understand why Ahmed Chalabi wants to see Condoleezza Rice; it is not entirely clear to me why Condoleezza Rice wants to see Ahmed Chalabi," she told AFP. Other observers flatly dispute that Chalabi has any chance of becoming Iraq’s prime minister. “I was asked what I thought of his chances,” says Wayne White, the former chief Iraq-watcher at the State Department’s Bureau of Intelligence and Research (INR). “And I said: zero.” Those that are wise to the Cheney "family' State Dept would know that AEI and the STATE Dept, if the above is TRUE, are either dupes or nefarious troglodytes. (Comment on this)
12:24 pm	Ant-Semite Semites, Arabs and Jews, all the Same Moronic World of Fools and Talking Heads Listen up The Arab is a Semite. And the Christians talk about people who don't like Jews as anti-Semites, and they call all the Arabs anti-Semites. The only Semites in the world are the Arabs. There isn't one Jew who's a Semite. They're all Turkothean Mongoloids. The Eastern european Jews. So, they brainwashed the people. Capice? (Comment on this)
12:03 pm	Pat Robertson the Shcoolyard Idiot Did you ever know one of those Kids the nanna nannn boo boo types? You know they would hide behind the teacher and make faces? The little dweeb in the class that would call you names and then run away? Yes thats Pat Robertson here he is a Grown man acting as a Racist 6 year old whom just learned that, thru his parents, people like HIM are superior, for unknown reasons, to other people and other peoples Religion; Here's what boo boo bay boy Robertson accused nearly half of the world of being Less than his religion. Anyway Listen to what Blow You UP Robertson WANTS YOU to Believe, his OPINION; Robertson's comments came after he watched a news story on his Christian Broadcasting Network about Muslim protests in Europe over the cartoon drawings of the Prophet Muhammad. He remarked that the outpouring of rage elicited by cartoons "just shows the kind of people we're dealing with. These people are crazed fanatics, and I want to say it now: I believe it's motivated by demonic power. It is satanic and it's time we recognize what we're dealing with." Robertson also said that "the goal of Islam, ladies and gentlemen, whether you like it or not, is world domination." Now thats pretty crazy isn't it Mr Robertson to take over thr World? With What? US has the Bombs and the Jets. Are you Really SCARED Mr Robertson? Paranoia perhaps? I think it is and you sound quite deranged to me Mr Blow you up Pat Okay look at the Style of Words here, Doesn't that look just like what Rush Dimbulb Says? The same trained Neo-Cion style of Rhetoric? These guys are Bad for America and they spew Un-American Hatred. Worse Old Pat Robertson and his Falwell Friend wish to also subvert the Constitution of the United States. Why don't you ever TALK about THAT Mr Blow you UP Robertson? Huh? huh? Pat Robertson is against World Peace. You are helping to kill People with your insane Rhetoric Mr. Robertson. Please Sit dowqn and be Quiet. (Comment on this)
3:08 am	Its Not a 'NEWS' paper Stupid Rupert If you get PAID to write Slanted Crap it's not NEWS It's a business and from your "right wing' Slanted and Biased angle Faux Networks Rupert, You can Keep that Misleading Crap. Many have begun to refuse to watch it as do more and more 'Conservative' viewers realize what a Load of Hooey your Fea Factor 'Entertainment' is. It's Crap. And hopefully Faux Nutwork will drown in its own crap and DIE Adapt to new technology or die,' Murdoch tells newspapers Mon Mar 13, 2:52 PM ET LONDON (AFP) - The newspaper industry needs to embrace the technological revolution of the Internet, MP3 players, laptops and mobile phones or face extinction, media tycoon Rupert Murdoch said. ADVERTISEMENT "Societies or companies that expect a glorious past to shield them from the forces of change driven by advancing technology will fail and fall," he said in a speech to the Worshipful Company of Stationers and Newspaper Makers. "That applies as much to my own, the media industry, as to every other business on the planet. Power is moving away from the old elite in our industry -- the editors, the chief executives and, let's face it, the proprietors. "A new generation of media consumers has risen demanding content delivered when they want it, how they want it, and very much as they want it." Murdoch, whose News Corporation empire ranges from newspapers and magazines to television and film interests across the globe, described the 21st century as "the second great age of discovery". The greatest challenge for the traditional media now is to engage with more demanding, questioning and better educated consumers, adapting their products for new technology, the Australian-born media mogul said. "There is only one way. That is by using our skills to create and distribute dynamic, exciting content," he said. "But -- and this is a very big but -- newspapers will have to adapt as their readers demand news and sport on a variety of platforms: websites, iPods, mobile phones or laptops. "I believe traditional newspapers have many years of life but, equally, I think in the future that newsprint and ink will be just one of many channels to our readers." Murdoch sparked one of Britain's most bitter industrial disputes over the introduction of new computer technology for journalists and printers. In January 1986, he moved his British newspapers The Times, The Sun and The News of the World overnight from their historic home on Fleet Street, central London, to a purpose-built facility in Wapping, in the east of the capital. Don't even care enough to link to stupid rupert... (Comment on this)
2:13 am	Crazy Farm Chapter 1 The Crazy Farm [[An Obvious Ripoff of Orwell]] Chapter 1 ~ The Crazy Farm ~ rehashed by -Colon P. Owell Lord RottenChild, of the Whoremore Farm, had locked the cackling hen-houses for the night, but was too drunk to remember to shut the popholes. With the ring of light from his lantern dancing from side to side, he lurched across the yard, kicked off his boots at the back door, drew himself a last glass of beer from the barrel in the scullery, and made his way up to bed, where Queen Rottenchild was already snoring. As soon as the light in the bedroom went out there was a stirring and a fluttering all through the farm buildings. Word had gone round during the day that old Major Con, the prize Blue-Blooded boar, had had a strange dream on the previous night and wished to communicate it to the rest of the "Herd". It had been agreed that they should all meet in the big barn as soon as Lord Rottenchild was safely passed out. Old Major Con (so he was always called, though the name under which he had been exhibited was House of Duopoly ) was so highly regarded on the farm that everyone was quite ready to lose an hour's sleep in order to hear what he had to say. At one end of the big barn, on a sort of raised platform, Major Con was already ensconced on his bed of straw, under a lantern which hung from a beam. He was twelve years old and had lately grown rather stout, but he was still a majestic-looking Pig with a wise and benevolent appearance in spite of the fact that his tushes had never been cut. Major Con Did not cotton to the name "PIG" and preffered Neo-Con, or Just "Con". Many of the 'Herd' However, just called the pigs 'Neo-Cons'. and the Herd just used Major Con for the old boar. Before long the other Herd members began to arrive and make themselves comfortable after their different fashions. First came the three Rovers', Kondie, Negropunty, and Rummy, and the Neo-Cons, who settled down in the straw immediately in front of the platform. The hens perched themselves on the window-sills, the Pigeons fluttered up to the rafters, the media whore sheep and cows lay down behind the Neo-Cons and began to chew the cud. The two cart-horses, Prole and Cloture, came in together, walking very slowly and setting down their vast hairy hoofs with great care lest there should be some small animal concealed in the straw. Cloture was a stout motherly wench approaching middle life, who had never quite got her figure back after her fourth foal. Prole was an enormous beast, nearly eighteen hands high, and as strong as any two ordinary Proles put together. A white stripe down his nose gave him a somewhat stupid appearance, and in fact he was not of first-rate intelligence, but he was universally respected for his steadiness of character and tremendous powers of work. After the horses came Muriel, the white goat, and Kennyday, the donkey. Kennyday was the oldest animal on the farm, and the worst tempered. He seldom talked, and when he did, it was usually to make some cynical remark-for instance, he would say that God had given him a tail to keep the flies off, but that he would sooner have had no tail and no flies. Alone among the Herd on the farm he never laughed. If asked why, he would say that he saw nothing to laugh at. Nevertheless, without openly admitting it, he was devoted to Prole; the two of them usually spent their Sundays together in the small paddock beyond the orchard, grazing side by side and never speaking. The two horses had just lain down when a brood of dumb ducklings, which had lost their mother, filed into the barn, cheeping feebly and wandering from side to side to find some place where they would not be trodden on. Cloture made a sort of wall round them with her great foreleg, and the dumb ducklings nestled down inside it and promptly fell asleep. At the last moment Ann Colter, the anti-intellectual Slut, skanky stained white mare who drew Lord Rottenchilds's trap, came whoring sleazily in, chewing at a lump of sugar. She took a place near the front and began flirting her white Mane, hoping to draw attention to the red ribbons it was plaited with. Last of all came the cat, who looked round, as usual, for the warmest place, and finally squeezed herself in between Prole and Cloture; there she made plans contentedly throughout Major Con's speech without listening to a word of what he was saying. All of the Herd were now present except Lybby, the tame raven, who slept on a perch behind the back door. When Major Con saw that they had all made themselves comfortable and were waiting attentively, he cleared his throat and began: "O' great Herd!, you have heard already about the strange dream that I had last night. But I will come to the dream later. I have something else to say first. I do not think, you the 'Herd', that I shall be with you for Many months longer, and before I die, I feel it my duty to pass on to you such wisdom as I have acquired. I have had a long life, I have had much time for thought as I lay alone in my stall, and I think I may say that I understand the nature of life on this earth as well as any Herd member now living. It is about this that I wish to speak to you. "Now, Great Herd, what is the nature of this life of ours? Let us face it: our lives are miserable, laborious, and short. We are born into debt, we are given just so much fattening food as will keep the sweat rolling off of our backs, and those of us who are capable of it are forced to work to the very last spark, the last atom of our strength; and the very instant that our usefulness has come to an end we are buried with hideous cruelty and speed. No Herd in the world knows the meaning of happiness or leisure after he is a 18yrs old. No Herd in the World is free. The life of an Herd member is misery and slavery, debit and credit, fears and tears: that is the plain truth. "But is this simply part of the order of nature? Is it because this land of ours is so poor that it cannot afford a decent life to those Herd who dwell upon it? No, O' Hordes, No! a Thousand Times No! The soil of Mother Earth -Gaia is fertile, its climate is grand, it is capable of affording food in abundance to an enormously greater number of Herds than now inhabit it. This single Farm of ours would support a dozen hard working horses like Prole here, twenty cows, the Pigeon propagandists, even the media whore sheep-and all of them living in a comfort and a dignity that are now almost beyond our imagining. Why then do we continue in this miserable condition? Because nearly the whole of the produce of our labour is stolen from us by Aristocratic Slugs the CEO's.. There, Herds, is the answer to all our problems. It is summed up in a single abbreviation -CEO. The CEO is the only real enemy we have. Remove CEO from the scene, and the root cause of hunger and overwork is abolished for ever. "CEO is the only creature that consumes without producing. He does not give milk, but steals it to sell yet again, he does not lay eggs, but buys them cheaply and resells them, and eats them, he is much too fat and weak to pull the plough, he cannot even waddle in his drunken stupor fast enough to catch the ignorant meek weak Rabbits. Yet he is Lord of all the Herds. He sets them to work, he gives back to them the bare minimum allowances that will prevent them from starving, and the rest he keeps for self serving needs, namely himself. Our labour tills the soil, our dung fertilises it, and yet there is not one of us that owns more than his bare skin. You cows that I see before me, how Many thousands of gallons of milk have you given during this last year? And what has happened to that milk which should have been breeding up sturdy foal? Every drop of it has gone down the throats of our enemies the CEO's. And you hens, how Many eggs have you laid in this last year, and how Many of those eggs ever hatched into chickens? The rest have all gone to market to bring in money for Lord Rottenchilds and his Kingly CEO's. And you, Cloture, where are those four foals you bore, who should have been the support and pleasure of your old age? Each was sold at 18 years of age-you will never see one of them again. In return for your four confinements and all your labour in the fields, what have you ever had except your bare wages and a barren stall? "And even the miserable lives we lead are not allowed to reach their natural span. For myself I do not grumble, for I am one of the lucky ones. I am 65 years old and have had over four adopted brats. Such is the natural life of a Neo-Con. But no Herd member escapes the cruel knife in the end. You young Neo-Con Porkers who are sitting in front of me, every one of you will scream your lives out at the block within a decade . To that horror we all must come-cows, Neo-Cons, cackling hens, media whore sheep, everyone. Even the Proles and the Rovers' have no better fate. You, Prole, the very day that those great muscles of yours lose their power, RottensChild will sell you to the knacker, who will cut your throat and boil you down for the FOX Nutwork hounds. As for the Rovers', when they grow fat old and bald, RottensChild ties a brick round their necks and drowns them in the nearest political cesspool. "Is it not crystal clear, then, Herd, that all the evils of this life of ours spring from the tyranny of inhuman CEO beings born of Lord RottensChild? Only get rid of CEO's, and the produce of our labour would be our own. A1most overnight we could become rich and free. What then must we do? Why, work night and day, body and soul, for the overthrow of the "Herd" race! That is my message to you, O' Herd! Revolution! I do not know when that Rebellion will come, it might be in a week or in a hundred years, but I know, as surely as I see this straw beneath my feet, that sooner or later justice will be done. Fix your eyes on that, O' Herd, throughout the short remainder of your lives! And above all, pass on this message of mine to those who come after you, so that future generations shall carry on the struggle until it is victorious. "And remember, O' Hordes, your resolution must never falter. No argument must lead you astray. Never listen when they tell you that CEO's and the 'Herd' have a common interest, that the prosperity of the one is the prosperity of the others. It is all lies. CEO serves the interests of no creature except himself. And among us Herd let there be perfect unity, perfect Hordeship in the struggle. All CEO are enemies. All Herd are Herd" At this moment there was a tremendous uproar. While Major Con was speaking four large dirty Rat Lobbyists had crept out of their holes and were sitting on their hindquarters, listening to him. The Rovers' had suddenly caught sight of them, and it was only by a swift dash for their holes that the dirty Rat Lobbyists saved their lives. Major Con raised his Cloven Hoof for silence. "Hordes," he said, "here is a point that must be settled. The wild creatures, such as dirty Rat Lobbyists and meek weak Rabbits-are they our friends or our enemies? Let us put it to the vote. I propose this question to the meeting: Are dirty Rat Lobbyists Herd members?" The vote was taken at once, and it was agreed by an overwhelming majority that dirty Rat Lobbyists were Hordes. There were only four dissentients, the three Rovers' and the lazy lying cat, who was afterwards discovered to have voted on both sides. Major Con continued: "I have little more to say. I merely repeat, remember always your duty of enmity towards CEO and all his ways. Whatever goes upon two legs is an enemy. Whatever goes upon four legs, or has wings, is a friend. And remember also that in fighting against CEO, we must not come to resemble him. Even when you have conquered him, do not adopt his vices. No animal must ever live in a house, or sleep in a bed, or wear clothes, or drink alcohol, or smoke tobacco, or touch money, or engage in trade. All the habits of CEO are evil. And, above all, no animal must ever tyrannise over his own kind. Weak or strong, clever or simple, we are all brothers of the Herd. No brother of the Herd must ever kill any Brother of the Herd. All Herd are equal. "And now, Herd, I will tell you about my dream of last night. I cannot describe that dream to you. It was a dream of the earth as it will be when CEO has vanished. But it reminded me of something that I had long forgotten. Many years ago, when I was a little Neo-Con, my mother and the other sows used to sing an old song of which they knew only the tune and the first three words. I had known that tune in my infancy, but it had long since passed out of my mind. Last night, however, it came back to me in my dream. And what is more, the words of the song also came back-words, I am certain, which were sung by the Herd of long ago and have been lost to memory for generations. I will sing you that song now, Herds. I am old and my voice is hoarse, but when I have taught you the tune, you can sing it better for yourselves. It is called Beasts of Empire." Old Major Con cleared his throat and began to sing. As he had said, his voice was hoarse, but he sang well enough, and it was a stirring tune, something between Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson. The words ran: Beasts of Empire, beasts of Herd, Beasts of every land and clime, Hearken to my joyful Words Of the golden future time. Soon or late the day is coming, Tyrant CEO shall be o'erthrown, And the fruitful fields of Empire Shall be trod by the Beasts alone. Rings shall vanish from our noses, And the harness from our back, Bit and spur shall rust forever, Cruel whips no more shall crack. Riches more than mind can picture, Wheat and barley, oats and hay, Clover, beans, and Mangel-wurzels Shall be ours upon that day. Bright will shine the fields of Empire, Purer shall its waters be, Sweeter yet shall blow its breezes On the day that sets us free. For that day we all must labour, Though we die before it break; Cows and horses, geese and turkeys, All must toil for freedom's sake. Beasts of Empire, beasts of Herd, Beasts of every land and clime, Hearken well and spread my Word Of the golden future time. The singing of this song threw the Herd into the wildest excitement. Almost before Major Con had reached the end, they had begun singing it for themselves. Even the stupidest of them had already picked up the tune and a few of the words, and as for the clever ones, such as the Neo-Cons and Rovers', they had the entire song by heart within a few minutes. And then, after a few preliminary tries, the whole farm burst out into Beasts of Empire in tremendous unison. The cows lowed it, the Rovers' whined it, the media whore sheep bleated it, the horses whinnied it, the dumb ducks quacked it. They were so delighted with the song that they sang it right through five times in succession, and might have continued singing it all night if they had not been interrupted. Unfortunately, the uproar awoke Lord Rottenchilds, who sprang out of bed, making sure that there was a fox in the yard. He seized the gun which always stood in a corner of his bedroom, and let fly a charge of number 6 shot into the darkness. The pellets buried themselves in the wall of the barn and the meeting broke up hurriedly. Everyone fled to his own sleeping-place. The birds jumped on to their perches, the Herd settled down in the straw, and the whole farm was asleep in a moment. (Comment on this)
2:12 am	Crazy Farm Chapter 2 The Crazy Farm [[An Obvious Ripoff of Orwell]] Chapter 2 ~ The Crazy Farm~ THREE nights later old Major Con died peacefully in his sleep. His body was buried at the foot of the orchard. This was early in March. During the next three months there was much top secret activity. Major Con's speech had given to the more intelligent Herd members on the farm a completely new outlook on life. They did not know when the Rebellion predicted by Major Con would take place, they had no reason for thinking that it would be within their own lifetime, but they saw clearly that it was their duty to prepare for it. The work of teaching and organising the others fell naturally upon the Neo-Cons, who were generally recognised as being the cleverest of the Herd. Pre-eminent among the Neo-Cons were two young boars named Klinton and King George, whom Lord Rottenchilds was breeding up for sale. King George was a swaggering, rather wimpy-looking Harvard boar, the only Harvard boar on the farm, a slanderer of words, but with a reputation for getting his own way. Klinton was a more vivacious Neo-Con than King George, quicker in speech and more inventive, but was not considered to have the same depth of character. All the other male Neo-Cons on the farm were pork barrel porkers sometimes called the RePignicans. The best known among them was a shady dark haired RePignican one certain Neo-Con called Wolfowizz, with very narrow penetrating eyes, rat quick nimble movements, and a panicky urgent voice of Doom and Gloom. He was a brilliant think tank talker, and when he was arguing some difficult point he had a way of skipping from side to side, as if he need to urinate, and whisking his tail, clasping his Hooves, as if he knew something new or different about something old, all this of which was somehow very persuasive. The others said of Wolfowizz that he could turn peace into war and war into peace. These three had elaborated old Major Con's teachings into a complete system of thought, to which they gave the name of "Herdism" Several nights a week, after Lord Rottenchild was asleep, they held secret meetings in the barn and expounded the principles of Herdism to the others. At the beginning they met with much stupidity and apathy. Some of the Herd talked of the duty of loyalty to Lord Rottenchild, whom inanely kept referring to as "Master," or made elementary remarks such as "Lord Rottenchild feeds us. If he were gone, we should starve to death." Others asked theosophical questions as "Why should we care what happens after we are dead?" or "If this Rebellion is to happen anyway, what difference does it make whether we work for it or not?", and the Neo-Cons had great difficulty in making them see that this was contrary to the spirit of Herdism. The stupidest questions of all were asked by That Slut Ann Colter, the white mare. The very first question she asked Klinton was: "Will you still be there with my 'sugar' after the Rebellion?" "Akkkk. Ptoohhh. No. No! I would rather have Sex with Rozeanne. No. No.I will NOT have sexual relations with you Polity Slut" said Klinton firmly. "No mane Ever had the means of making sugar with you on this farm. Besides, you do not need sugar slut. You will have all the falafels and dallydoes and batteries you want." "And shall I still be allowed to wear sweaters with sugar on them?" asked That Slut Ann Colter. "Herde," said Klinton, diverting his eye from the rabid Slut, "that 'Sugar' that you are so devoted to is the sweater of Adultery. Can you not understand that Herdism is worth more than Klinton Sugar? " That Slut Ann Colter agreed, but she still looked like rabid skanky ho in a cocaine induced passion. The Neo-Cons had an even harder struggle to counteract the lies put about by Lybby, the tame raven. Lybby, who was Lord Rottenchild's especial pet, was a spy and a tale-bearer, but he was also a clever talker. He claimed to know of the existence of a mysterious country called Sugarcandy Mountain, to which all of the Herd went when they died. It was situated somewhere up in the sky, a little distance beyond the clouds, Lybby said. In Sugarcandy Mountain it was Sunday seven days a week, clover was in season all the year round, and lump sugar and linseed cake grew on the hedges. The Herd hated Lybby because he told big fat Lies and Tales and did no work, even took charity, but some of them believed in Sugarcandy Mountain, especially that slut Ann Colter and the Neo-Cons had to argue very hard to persuade them, using 'reality-based' Herdism that there was no such a place. Their most faithful disciples were the two cart-horses, Prole and Cloture. These two big stoops had great difficulty in thinking anything out for themselves, but having once accepted the Neo-Cons as their teachers, they absorbed everything that they were told, and passed it on to the other Herd by simple arguments. They were unfailing in their attendance at the secret meetings in the barn, and led the singing of Beasts of Empire, with which the meetings always ended. Now, as it turned out, the Rebellion was achieved much earlier and more easily than anyone had expected. In past years Lord Rottenchild, although a hard master, had been a capable farmer, but of late he had fallen on evil days. He had become much disheartened after losing money in a lawsuit, and had taken to drinking more than was good for him. For whole days at a time he would lounge in his Windsor chair in the kitchen, reading the newspapers, drinking, and occasionally feeding Lybby on crusts of bread soaked in beer. His CEO whore men were idle and dishonest, the fields were full of weeds, the buildings wanted roofing, the hedges were neglected, and the Herd were underfed. June came and the hay was almost ready for cutting. On Midsummer's Eve, which was a Saturday, Lord Rottenchilds went into Willingdon and got so drunk at the Red Lion that he did not come back till midday on Sunday. The CEO whore men had milked the cows in the early morning and then had gone out rabbiting, without bothering to feed the Herd. When Lord Rottenchild got back he immediately went to sleep on the drawing-room sofa with the News of the World over his face, so that when evening came, the Herd were still unfed. At last they could stand it no longer. One of the cows broke in the door of the store-shed with her horn and all the Herd began to help themselves from the bins. It was just then that Lord Rottenchilds woke up. The next moment he and his four men were in the store-shed with whips in their hands, lashing out in all directions. This was more than the hungry Herd could bear. With one accord, though nothing of the kind had been planned beforehand, they flung themselves upon their tormentors. Rottenchild and his CEO whore men suddenly found themselves being butted and kicked from all sides. The situation was quite out of their control. They had never seen a Herd behave like this before, and this sudden uprising of creatures whom they were used to thrashing and maltreating just as they chose, frightened them almost out of their wits. After only a moment or two they gave up trying to defend themselves and took to their heels. A minute later all five of them were in full flight down the cart-track that led to the main road, with the Herd pursuing them in triumph. Queen Rottenchild looked out of the bedroom window, saw what was happening, hurriedly flung a few possessions into a carpet bag, and slipped out of the farm by another way. Lybby sprang off his perch and flapped after her, croaking loudly. Meanwhile the Herd had chased Rottenchild and his CEO whore men out on to the road and slammed the five-barred gate behind them. And so, almost before they knew what was happening, the Rebellion had been successfully carried through: Rottschildewas expelled, and the Whoremore Farm was theirs. For the first few minutes the Herd could hardly believe in their good fortune. Their first act was to run wildly in a body right round the boundaries of the farm, as though to make quite sure that no inhuman CEO whore men being was hiding anywhere upon it; then they raced back to the farm buildings to wipe out the last traces of Rottenchild's hated reign. The harness-room at the end of the stables was broken open; the bits, the nose-rings, the dog-chains, the cruel knives with which Lord Rottenchilds had been used to castrate the Neo-Cons and lambs, were all flung down the well. The reins, the halters, the blinkers, the degrading nosebags, were thrown on to the rubbish fire which was burning in the yard. So were the whips. All the Herd members capered with joy when they saw the whips going up in flames. Klinton also threw on to the fire the straps with which the slut Anne Colter liked so much. "Straps," he said, "should be considered as whorish, which are the mark of a inhuman CEO beings. All Herd should be moral." When Prole heard this he fetched the small straw hat which he wore in summer to keep the flies out of his ears, and flung it on to the fire with the rest. In a very little while the Herd had destroyed everything that reminded them of Lord Rottenchild. King George then led them back to the store-shed and served out a double ration of corn to everybody, with two biscuits for each dog. Then they sang Beasts of Empire from end to end seven times running, and after that they settled down for the night and slept as they had never slept before. But they woke at dawn as usual, and suddenly remembering the glorious thing that had happened, they all raced out into the pasture together. A little way down the pasture there was a knoll that comanded a view of most of the farm. The Herd rushed to the top of it and gazed round them in the clear morning light. Yes, it was theirs-everything that they could see was theirs! In the ecstasy of that thought they gambolled round and round, they hurled themselves into the air in great leaps of excitement. They rolled in the dew, they cropped mouthfuls of the sweet summer grass, they kicked up clods of the black earth and snuffed its rich scent. Then they made a tour of inspection of the whole farm and surveyed with speechless admiration the ploughland, the hayfield, the orchard, the pool, the spinney. It was as though they had never seen these things before, and even now they could hardly believe that it was all their own. Then they filed back to the farm buildings and halted in silence outside the door of the farmhouse. That was theirs too, but they were frightened to go inside. After a moment, however, Klinton and King George butted the door open with their shoulders and the Herd entered in single file, walking with the utmost care for fear of disturbing anything. They tiptoed from room to room, afraid to speak above a whisper and gazing with a kind of awe at the unbelievable luxury, at the beds with their feather mattresses, the looking-glasses, the horsehair sofa, the Brussels carpet, the lithograph of Queen Victoria over the drawing-room Mantelpiece. They were lust coming down the stairs when That Slut Ann Colter was discovered to be missing. Going back, the others found that she had remained behind in the best bedroom. She had taken a piece of leather strap from Queen Rottenchilds's dressing-table, and was lashing it against her shoulder and admiring herself in the glass in a very whorish manner. The others reproached her sharply, and they went outside. Some hams hanging in the kitchen were taken out for burial, and the barrel of beer in the scullery was stove in with a kick from Prole's hoof,-otherwise nothing in the house was touched. A unanimous resolution was passed on the spot that the farmhouse should be preserved as a museum. All were agreed that no Herd must ever live there. The Herd had their breakfast, and then Klinton and King George called them together again. "Herd," said Klinton, "it is half-past six and we have a long day before us. Today we begin the hay harvest. But there is another matter that must be attended to first." The Neo-Con RePIGnicans now revealed that during the past three months they had taught themselves to read and write from an old spelling book which had belonged to Lord Rottenchild's Boar-ish offspring and which had been thrown on the rubbish heap. King George sent for pots of black and white paint and led the way down to the five-barred gate that gave on to the main road. Then Klinton (for it was Klinton who was best at writing) took a brush between the two knuckles of his Cloven Hoof, painted over Whoremore Farm from the top bar of the gate and in its place painted Crazy Farm. This was to be the name of the farm from now onwards. After this they went back to the Crazy farm buildings, where Klinton and King George sent for a ladder which they caused to be set against the end wall of the big barn. They explained that by their studies of the past three months the Neo-Cons had succeeded in reducing the principles of Herdism to Seven Commandments. These Seven Commandments would now be inscribed on the wall; they would form an unalterable law by which all the Herd on Crazy Farm must live for ever after. With some difficulty (for it is not easy for a Neo-Con Pig to balance himself on a ladder) Klinton climbed up and set to work, with Wolfowizz a few rungs below him, ogling his butt and holding the paint-pot. The Commandments were written on the tarred wall in great white letters that could be read thirty yards away. They ran thus: THE SEVEN COMMANDMENTS 1. Whatever goes upon two legs is an enemy. 2. Whatever goes upon four legs, or has wings, is a friend. 3. No Herd shall wear clothes. 4. No Herd shall sleep in a bed. 5. No Herd shall drink alcohol. 6. No Herd shall kill any other Herd. 7. All Herd are equal. It was very neatly written, and except that "friend" was written "freind" and one of the "S's" was the wrong way round, the spelling was correct all the way through. Klinton read it aloud for the benefit of the others. All of the Herd nodded in complete agreement, and the cleverer ones at once began to learn the Commandments by heart. "Now, Herdsmen," cried Klinton, throwing down the paint-brush, "to the hayfield! Let us make it a point of honour to get in the harvest more quickly than Rottenchild and his CEO whore men could." But at this moment the three cows, who had seemed uneasy for some time past, set up a loud lowing. They had not been milked for twenty-four hours, and their udders were almost bursting. After a little thought, the Neo-Cons sent for buckets and milked the cows fairly successfully, their trotters being well adapted to this task. Soon there were five buckets of frothing creamy milk at which Many of the Herd looked with considerable interest. "What is going to happen to all that milk?" said someone. "Rottenchild used sometimes to mix some of it in our mash," said one of the cackling hens. "Never mind the milk, Herdsmen!" cried King George, placing himself in front of the buckets. "That will be attended to. The harvest is more important. Herdsmen Klinton will lead the way. I shall follow in a few minutes. Forward, Herdsmen! The hay is waiting." So the Herd trooped down to the hayfield to begin the harvest, and when they came back later in the evening it was noticed that the milk had disappeared. (Comment on this)
2:11 am	Crazy Farm Chapter 4 The Crazy Farm [[An Obvious Ripoff of Orwell]] Chapter 4 ~ The Crazy Farm~ BY THE late summer the news of what had happened on Crazy Farm had spread across half the county. Every day Klinton and King George sent out flights of propagandist pigeons whose instructions were to mingle with the Herds on neighbouring farms, tell them the story of the Rebellion, and teach them the tune of Beasts of Empire. Most of this time Lord Rottenchild had spent sitting in the taproom, drowning his sorrow at the Red Lion at Willingdon, complaining to anyone who would listen of the monstrous injustice he had suffered in being turned out of his property by a pack of good-for-nothing beasts calling themselves the 'Herd'. The other farmers sympathised in principle, laughed behind Rottenchild's back, so they did not at first give him much help. At heart, each of them was secretly wondering whether he could not somehow turn Rottenchild's misfortune to his own advantage. It was lucky that the owners of the two farms which adjoined Crazy Farm were on permanently bad terms. One of them, which was named FAUXwood, was a large, neglected, old-fashioned farm, much overgrown by woodland, with all its pastures worn out and its hedges in a disgraceful condition. Its owner, Mr. Filthington, was an easy-going gentle CEO whore man who spent most of his time in fishing or hunting according to the season. The other farm, which was called Stenchfield, was smaller and better kept. Its owner was a Mr. Frederick, a tough, shrewd CEO whore, perpetually involved in lawsuits and with a name for driving hard bargains. These two disliked each other so much that it was difficult for them to come to any agreement, even in defence of their own interests. Nevertheless, they were both thoroughly frightened by the revolution on Crazy Farm, and very anxious to prevent their own Herds from learning too much about it. At first they pretended to scorn the idea of Herds Managing a farm for themselves it was preposterous. The whole thing would be over in a fortnight, they said. They put it about that the Herds on the Whoremore Farm (they insisted on calling it the Whoremore Farm; they would not tolerate the name "Crazy Farm") were perpetually fighting among themselves and were also rapidly starving to death. When time passed and the Herds had evidently not starved to death, Frederick and Filthington changed their tune and began to talk of the terrible wickedness that now flourished on Crazy Farm. It was given out that the Herds there practised cannibalism, tortured one another with red-hot horseshoes, and had their females in common. This was what came of rebelling against the laws of Nature, Frederick and Filthington said. However, these stories were never fully believed. Rumours of a wonderful farm, where the Inhuman CEO being and their accomplice whore men had been turned out and the Herds Managed their own affairs, continued to circulate in vague and distorted forms, and throughout that year a wave of rebelliousness ran through the countryside. Bulls which had always been tractable suddenly turned savage, media whore sheep broke down hedges and devoured the clover, cows kicked the pail over, hunters refused their fences and shot their riders on to the other side. Above all, the tune and even the words of Beasts of Empire were known everywhere. It had spread with astonishing speed. The Inhuman CEO whore men could not contain their rage when they heard this song, though they pretended to think it merely ridiculous Herd rhetoric. They could not understand, they said, how even Herdsmen could bring themselves to sing such contemptible rubbish. Any Herd caught singing it was given a flogging on the spot. And yet the song was irrepressible. The blackbirds whistled it in the hedges, the propanda pigeons cooed it in the elms, it got into the din of the smithies and the tune of the church bells. And when the Inhuman CEO whore men listened to it, they secretly trembled, hearing in it a prophecy of their future doom. Early in October, when the corn was cut and stacked and some of it was already threshed, a flight of Pigeons came whirling through the air and alighted in the yard of Crazy Farm in the wildest excitement. RottenChild and all his men, with half a dozen others from Fauxwood and Stenchfield, had entered the five-barred gate and were coming up the cart-track that led to the farm. They were all carrying sticks, except Rottenchild, who was marching ahead with a gun in his hands. Obviously they were going to attempt the recapture of the farm. This had long been expected, and all preparations had been made. Klinton, who had studied an old book of Julius Caesar's campaigns which he had found in some whorehouse, was in charge of the defensive operations. He gave his orders quickly, and in a couple of minutes every Herdsman was at his post. As the Inhuman CEO whore men approached the farm buildings, Klinton launched his first attack. All the Pigeons, to the number of thirty-five, flew to and fro over the whore men's heads and splatted upon them from mid-air; and while the men were dealing with this, the geese, who had been hiding behind the hedge, rushed out and pecked viciously at their ankles. This however, this was only a light skirmishing Manoeuvre, intended to create a little disorder, and the whore men easily drove the geese off with their sticks. Klinton now launched his second line of attack. Muriel, Kennyday, and all the media whore sheep, with Klinton at the head of them, rushed forward and prodded and butted the men from every side, while Kennyday turned around and lashed at them with his small hoofs. But once again the men, with their sticks and their hobnailed boots, were too strong for them; and suddenly, at a squeal from Klinton, which was the signal for retreat, all the Herds turned and fled through the gateway into the yard. The whore men gave a shout of triumph. They saw, as they imagined, their enemies in flight, and they rushed after them in disorder. This was just what Klinton had intended. As soon as they were well inside the yard, the three horses, the three cows, and the rest of the Neo-Cons, who had been lying in ambush in the cowshed, suddenly emerged in their rear, cutting them off. Klinton now gave the signal for the charge. He himself dashed straight for Rottenchild. Rottenchild saw him coming, raised his gun and fired. The pellets scored bloody streaks along Klinton's back, and a media whore sheep dropped dead. Without halting for an instant, Klinton flung his fifteen stone against Rottenchild's legs. RottenChild was hurled into a pile of cowdung and his gun flew out of his hands. But the most terrifying spectacle of all was Prole, rearing up on his hind legs and striking out with his great iron-shod hoofs like a stallion. His very first blow took a stable-whore lad from Fauxwood on the skull and stretched him lifeless in the mud. At the sight, several men dropped their sticks and tried to run. Panic overtook them, and the next moment all the Herds together were chasing them round and round the yard. They were gored, kicked, bitten, trampled on. There was not an Herd on the farm that did not take vengeance on them after his own fashion. Even the cat suddenly leapt off a roof onto a whore mans shoulders and sank her claws in his neck, at which he yelled horribly. At a moment when the opening was clear, the men were glad enough to rush out of the yard and make a bolt for the main road. And so within five minutes of their invasion they were in ignominious retreat by the same way as they had come, with a flock of geese hissing after them and pecking at their calves all the way. All the men were gone except one. Back in the yard Prole was pawing with his hoof at the stable-lad who lay face down in the mud, trying to turn him over. The boy did not stir. "He is dead," said Prole sorrowfully. "I had no intention of doing that. I forgot that I was wearing iron shoes. Who will believe that I did not do this on purpose?" "No sentimentality, Herdsmen!" cried Klinton from whose wounds the blood was still dripping. "War is war. The only good inhuman CEO being being is a dead one." "I have no wish to take life, not even inhuman CEO being life," repeated Prole, and his eyes were full of tears. "Where is That Slut Ann Colter?" exclaimed somebody. That Slut Ann Colter in fact was missing. For a moment there was great alarm; it was hoped that the whore men might have carried the useless slut off with them. In the end, however, she was found hiding sleezing around her stall with her head buried among the hay in the Manger. And when the others came back from looking for her, it was to find that the whore man, who in fact was only stunned, had already recovered and made off. The Herds had now reassembled in the wildest excitement, each recounting his own exploits in the battle at the top of his voice. An impromptu celebration of the victory was held immediately. The flag was run up and Beasts of Empire was sung a number of times, then the media whore sheep who had been killed was given a solemn funeral, a hawthorn bush being planted on her grave. At the graveside Klinton made a little speech, emphasising the need for all Herds to be ready to die for Crazy Farm if need be. The Herds decided unanimously to create a military decoration, "Herd Hero, First Class," which was conferred there and then on Klinton and Prole. It consisted of a brass medal (they were really some old horse-brasses which had been found in the harness-room), to be worn on Sundays and holidays. There was also "Herd Hero, Second Class," which was conferred posthumously on the dead media whore sheep. There was much discussion as to what the battle should be called. In the end, it was named the Battle of the Bullcrap, since that was what the field which from the ambush had been sprung was full with. Lord Rottenchild's gun had been found lying in the mud, and it was known that there was a supply of cartridges in the farmhouse. It was decided to set the gun up at the foot of the Flagstaff, like a piece of artillery, and to fire it twice a year-once on October the twelfth, the anniversary of the Battle of the Bullcrap, and once on Midsummer Day, the anniversary of the Rebellion. (Comment on this)
2:11 am	Crazy Farm Chapter 3 The Crazy Farm [[An Obvious Ripoff of Orwell]] Chapter 3 ~ The Crazy Farm~ HOW they toiled and sweated to get the hay in! But their efforts were rewarded, for the harvest was an even bigger success than they had hoped. Sometimes the work was hard; the implements had been designed for Inhuman CEO beings and their cronies, not for Herd, and it was a great drawback that no animal was able to use any tool that involved standing on his hind legs. But the Neo-Cons were so clever that they could think of a way round every difficulty. As for the horses, they knew every inch of the field, and in fact understood the business of mowing and raking far better than Rottschildeand his men had ever done. The Neo-Cons did not actually work, but directed and supervised the others. With their superior knowledge it was natural that they should assume the leadership. Prole and Cloture would harness themselves to the cutter or the horse-rake (no bits or reins were needed in these days, of course) and tramp steadily round and round the field with a Neo-Con walking behind and calling out "Gee up, Herde!" or "Whoa back, Herde!" as the case might be. And every animal down to the humblest worked at turning the hay and gathering it. Even the dumb ducks and hens toiled to and fro all day in the sun, carrying tiny wisps of hay in their beaks. In the end they finished the harvest in two days' less time than it had usually taken Rottschildeand his men. Moreover, it was the biggest harvest that the farm had ever seen. There was no wastage whatever; the hens and dumb ducks with their sharp eyes had gathered up the very last stalk. And not an animal on the farm had stolen so much as a mouthful. All through that summer the work of the farm went like clockwork. The Herd was happy as they had never conceived it possible to be. Every mouthful of food was an acute positive pleasure, now that it was truly their own food, produced by themselves and for themselves, not doled out to them by a grudging master. With the worthless parasitical Inhuman CEO beings gone, there was more for everyone to eat. There was more leisure too, inexperienced though the Herd were. They met with Many difficulties-for instance, later in the year, when they harvested the corn, they had to tread it out in the ancient style and blow away the chaff with their breath, since the farm possessed no threshing machine-but the Neo-Cons with their cleverness and Prole with his tremendous muscles always pulled them through. Prole was the admiration of everybody. He had been a hard worker even in Jones's time, but now he seemed more like three horses than one; there were days when the entire work of the farm seemed to rest on his mighty shoulders. From morning to night he was pushing and pulling, always at the spot where the work was hardest. He had made an arrangement with one of the cockerels to call him in the mornings half an hour earlier than anyone else, and would put in some volunteer labour at whatever seemed to be most needed, before the regular day's work began. His answer to every problem, every setback, was "I will work harder!"-which he had adopted as his personal motto. But everyone worked according to his capacity The hens and dumb ducks, for instance, saved five bushels of corn at the harvest by gathering up the stray grains. Nobody stole, nobody grumbled over his rations, the quarrelling and biting and jealousy which had been normal features of life in the old days had almost disappeared. Nobody shirked-or almost nobody. That Slut Ann Colter, it was true, was not good at getting up in the mornings, and had a way of leaving work early on the ground that there was a stone in her hoof. And the behaviour of the cat was somewhat peculiar. It was soon noticed that when there was work to be done the cat could never be found. She would vanish for hours on end, and then reappear at meal-times, or in the evening after work was over, as though nothing had happened. But she always made such excellent excuses, and purred so affectionately, that it was impossible not to believe in her good intentions. Old Kennyday, the donkey, seemed quite unchanged since the Rebellion. He did his work in the same slow obstinate way as he had done it in Jones's time, never shirking and never volunteering for extra work either. About the Rebellion and its results he would express no opinion. When asked whether he was not happier now that Rottschildewas gone, he would say only "Donkeys live a long time. None of you has ever seen a dead donkey," and the others had to be content with this cryptic answer. On Sundays there was no work. Breakfast was an hour later than usual, and after breakfast there was a ceremony which was observed every week without fail. First came the hoisting of the flag. Klinton had found in the harness-room an old green tablecloth of Queen Rottenchilds's and had painted on it a hoof and a horn in white. This was run up the flagstaff in the farmhouse garden every Sunday 8, morning. The flag was green, Klinton explained, to represent the green fields of Empire, while the hoof and horn signified the future RePIGnic of the Herd which would arise when the inhuman CEO whore men being race had been finally overthrown. After the hoisting of the flag all the trooped into the big barn for a general assembly which was known as the Meeting. Here the work of the coming week was planned out and resolutions were put forward and debated. It was always the Neo-Cons who put forward the resolutions. The other Herd members understood how to vote, but could never think of any resolutions of their own. Klinton and King George were by far the most active in the debates. But it was noticed that these two were never in agreement: whatever suggestion either of them made, the other could be counted on to oppose it. Even when it was resolved-a thing no one could object to in itself-to set aside the small paddock behind the orchard as a home of rest for Herd members who were past work, there was a stormy debate over the correct retiring age for each class of animal. The Meeting always ended with the singing of Beasts of Empire, and the afternoon was given up to recreation. The Neo-Cons had set aside the harness-room as a headquarters for themselves. Here, in the evenings, they studied blacksmithing, carpentering, and other necessary arts from books which they had brought out of the farmhouse. Klinton also busied himself with organising the other Herd members into what he called Animal Committees. He was indefatigable at this. He formed the Egg Production Committee for the hens, the Clean Tails League for the cows, the Wild Hordes' Re-education Committee (the object of this was to tame the dirty Rat Lobbyists and meek weak Rabbits), the Whiter Wool Movement for the media whore sheep, and various others, besides instituting classes in reading and writing. On the whole, these projects were a failure. The attempt to tame the wild creatures, for instance, broke down almost immediately. They continued to behave very much as before, and when treated with generosity, simply took advantage of it. The cat joined the Re-education Committee and was very active in it for some days. She was seen one day sitting on a roof and talking to some sparrows who were just out of her reach. She was telling them that all birds were now Herd and that any sparrow who chose could come and perch on her paw; but the sparrows kept their distance. The reading and writing classes, however, were a great success. By the autumn almost every Herd member on the farm was literate in some degree. As for the Neo-Cons, they could already read and write perfectly. The Rovers' learned to read fairly well, but were not interested in reading anything except the Seven ComMandments. Muriel, the goat, could read somewhat better than the Rovers', and sometimes used to read to the others in the evenings from scraps of newspaper which she found on the rubbish heap. Kennyday could read as well as any Neo-Con, but never exercised his faculty. So far as he knew, he said, there was nothing worth reading. Cloture learnt the whole alphabet, but could not put words together. Prole could not get beyond the letter D. He would trace out A, B, C, D, in the dust with his great hoof, and then would stand staring at the letters with his ears back, sometimes shaking his forelock, trying with all his might to remember what came next and never succeeding. On several occasions, indeed, he did learn E, F, G, H, but by the time he knew them, it was always discovered that he had forgotten A, B, C, and D. Finally he decided to be content with the first four letters, and used to write them out once or twice every day to refresh his memory. That Slut Ann Colter refused to learn any but the six letters which spelt her own name. She would form these very neatly out of pieces of twig, and would then decorate them with a flower or two and lay on the ground in the most denegrating pose. None of the other Herd members on the farm could get further than the letter A. It was also found that the stupider Herd members, such as the media whore sheep, cackling hens, and dumb ducks, were unable to learn the Seven Commandments by heart. After much thought Klinton declared that the Seven Commandments could in effect be reduced to a single maxim, namely: "Four Legs Good, Two Legs Bad". This, he said, contained the essential principle of Herdism. Whoever had thoroughly grasped it would be safe from human influences. The birds at first objected but Klinton proved to them that this was not so. "A bird's wing, Hordes," he said, "is an organ of propulsion and not of Deceit and Manipulation. It should therefore be regarded as non CEO. The distinguishing mark of CEO is his greedy hand, the instrument with which he does all his mischief for the EMPIRE of Lord Rottenchild!" The birds did not understand Klinton's long words, but they accepted his explanation, and all the humbler Herd members set to work to learn the new maxim by heart. "Four Legs Good, Two Legs Bad" was inscribed on the end wall of the barn, above the Seven ComMandments and in bigger letters When they had once got it by heart, the media whore sheep developed a great liking for this maxim, and often as they lay in the field they would all start bleating "Four Legs Good, Two Legs Bad! Four Legs Good, Two Legs Bad!" and keep it up for hours on end, never growing tired of it. King George took no interest in Klinton's committees. He said that the education of the young was more important than anything that could be done for those who were already grown up. It happened that Negropunty and Kondie had both whelped soon after the hay harvest, giving birth between them to nine gnarly Rover mutts.. As soon as the rabid little mutts, Rovers, were weaned, King George took them away from their mothers, saying that he would make himself responsible for their education. He took them up into a loft which could only be reached by a ladder from the harness-room, and there kept them in such seclusion that the rest of the Crazy Farm soon forgot their existence. The mystery of where the milk went to was soon cleared up. It was mixed every day into the Neo-Cons' hog mash. The early apples were now ripening, and the grass of the orchard was littered with windfalls. The Herd had assumed as a matter of course that these would be shared out equally; one day, however, the order went forth that all the windfalls were to be collected and brought to the harness-room for the use of the Neo-Cons. At this some of the other Herds murmured, but it was no use. All the Neo-Cons were in full agreement on this point, even Klinton and King George. Wolfowizz was sent to make the necessary explanations to the others. "Herdsmen!" he cried. "You do not imagine, I hope, that we Neo-Cons are doing this in a spirit of selfishness and privilege? Many of us actually dislike milk and apples. I dislike them myself. Our sole object in taking these things is to preserve our health. Milk and apples (this has been proved by Science, Herdsmen) contain substances absolutely necessary to the well-being of a Neo-Con. We Neo-Cons are brainworkers. The whole Management and organisation of this farm depend on us. Day and night we are watching over your welfare. It is for your sake that we drink that milk and eat those apples. Do you know what would happen if we Neo-Cons failed in our duty? RottenChild would come back! Yes, RottenChild would come back! Surely, Herdsmen," cried Wolfowizz almost pleadingly, skipping from side to side and whisking his tail, "surely there is no one among you who wants to see RottenChild come back?" Now if there was one thing that the Herds were completely certain of, it was that they did not want RottenChild back. When it was put to them in this light, they had no more to say. The importance of keeping the Neo-Cons in good health was all too obvious. So it was agreed without further argument that the milk and the windfall apples (and also the main crop of apples when they ripened) should be reserved for the Neo-Cons alone. (Comment on this)
2:09 am	Crazy Farm Chapter 5 The Crazy Farm [[An Obvious Ripoff of Orwell]] Chapter 5 ~ The Crazy Farm~ AS WINTER drew on, That Slut Ann Colter became more and more loathesome. She was late for work every morning and excused herself by saying that she had overslept, and she complained of mysterious hot flashes, although her slutty appetite was excellent. On every kind of pretext she would run her mouth and go to the MSM, where she would stand foolishly blabbing at her own reflection on a screen. But there were also rumours of something more serious. One day, as That Slut Ann Colter slimed slithered into the yard, flirting her long tail and chewing at a stalk of hay, Cloture took her aside. "Slut Ann Colter," she said, "I have something very serious to say to you. This morning I saw you looking over the hedge that divides Crazy Farm from Fauxwood. One of Mr. Filthington's whore men was standing on the other side of the hedge. And-I was a long way away, but I am almost certain I saw this-he was talking to you and you were allowing him to play with your nasty, what does that mean, you Slut you Ann Colter?" "He didn't! I wasn't! It isn't true!" cried That Slut Ann Colter, guilt as a slut caught going thru your billfold, started pawing the ground. "Ann Colter you ignorant Slut. Look me in the face. Do you give me your word of honour that that CEO whore man was not bumping uglies? "It isn't true!" repeated The Slut Ann Colter, but she could not look Cloture in the face, and the next moment she took to her tacky heels and skanked off away into the field. A thought struck Cloture. Without saying anything to the others, she went to That Slut Ann Colter's stall and turned over the straw with her hoof. Hidden under the straw was a little pile of condoms and several stained sweaters. Three days later That Slut Ann Colter disappeared. For some weeks nothing was known of her whereabouts, then the Pigeons reported that they had seen her on the other side of Willingdon. She was between the shafts of a smart dogcart painted red and black, which was standing outside a public-house. A fat red-faced CEO in check breeches and gaiters, who looked like a RePIGnican, was stroking her ugliness and feeding her greenbacks. Her coat was newly bleeched blonde and she wore a studded dog collar. She appeared to be enjoying exposin herself, so the Pigeons said. None of the Herdsmen ever mentioned, or cared about, That Slut Ann Colter again. In January there came bitterly hard weather. The earth was like iron, and nothing could be done in the fields. Many meetings were held in the big barn, and the Neo-Cons occupied themselves with planning out the work of the coming season. It had come to be accepted that the Neo-Cons, who were Manifestly cleverer than the other Herdsmen, should decide all questions of farm policy, though their decisions had to be ratified by a majority vote. This arrangement would have worked well enough if it had not been for the disputes between Klinton and King George. These two disagreed at every point where disagreement was possible. If one of them suggested sowing a bigger acreage with barley, the other was certain to deMand a bigger acreage of oats, and if one of them said that such and such a field was just right for cabbages, the other would declare that it was useless for anything except roots. Each had his own following, and there were some violent debates. At the Meetings Klinton often won over the majority by his brilliant speeches, but King George was better at canvassing support for himself in between times. He was especially successful with the media whore sheep. Of late the media whore sheep had taken to bleating "Four Legs Good, Two Legs Bad" both in and out of season, and they often interrupted the Meeting with this. It was noticed that they were especially liable to break into "Four Legs Good, Two Legs Bad" at crucial moments in Klinton's speeches. Klinton had made a close study of some back numbers of the Farmer and Stockbreeder which he had found in the farmhouse, and was full of plans for innovations and improvements. He talked learnedly about field drains, silage, and basic slag, and had worked out a complicated scheme for all the Herds to drop their dung directly in the fields, at a different spot every day, to save the labour of cartage. King George produced no schemes of his own, but said quietly that Klinton's would come to nothing, and seemed to be biding his time. But of all their controversies, none was so bitter as the one that took place over the Nuclear Power. In the long pasture, not far from the farm buildings, there was a small knoll which was the highest point on the farm. After surveying the ground, Klinton declared that this was just the place for a Nuclear Power, which could be made to operate a dynamo and supply the farm with electrical power. This would light the stalls and warm them in winter, and would also run a circular saw, a chaff-cutter, a Mangel-slicer, and an electric milking machine. The Herds had never heard of anything of this kind before (for the farm was an old-fashioned one and had only the most primitive machinery), and they listened in astonishment while Klinton conjured up pictures of fantastic machines which would do their work for them while they grazed at their ease in the fields or improved their minds with reading and conversation. Within a few weeks Klinton's plans for the Nuclear Power were fully worked out. The mechanical details came mostly from three books which had belonged to Lord Rottenchild - One Thousand Useless Things to Do About the Farm, Every CEO is His Own King and Lord, and Nuclear Energy for Terrorists. Klinton used as his study a shed which had once been used for incubators and had a smooth wooden floor, suitable for drawing on. He was closeted there for hours at a time. With his books held open by a stone, and with a piece of chalk gripped between the knuckles of his Cloven Hoof, he would move rapidly to and fro, drawing in line after line and uttering little whimpers of excitement. Gradually the plans grew into a complicated mass of cranks and cog-wheels, covering more than half the floor, which the other Herdsmen found completely unintelligible but very impressive. All of them came to look at Klinton's drawings at least once a day. Even the chatterbox hens and dumb ducks came, and were at pains not to tread on the chalk marks. Only King George held aloof. He had declared himself against the Nuclear Power from the start. One day, however, he arrived unexpectedly to examine the plans. He walked heavily round the shed, looked closely at every detail of the plans and snuffed at them once or twice, then stood for a little while contemplating them out of the corner of his eye; then suddenly he lifted his leg, urinated over the plans, and walked out without uttering a word. The whole farm was deeply divided on the subject of the Nuclear Power. Klinton did not deny that to build it would be a difficult business. Stone would have to be carried and built up into walls, then the sails would have to be made and after that there would be need for dynamos and cables. (How these were to be procured, Klinton did not say.) But he maintained that it could all be done in a year. And thereafter, he declared, so much labour would be saved that the Herds would only need to work three days a week. King George, on the other hand, argued that the great need of the moment was to increase food production, and that if they wasted time on the Nuclear Power they would all starve to death. The Herds formed themselves into two factions under the slogan, "Vote for Klinton and the three-day week" and "Vote for King George and the full Manger." Kennyday was the only Herd who did not side with either faction. He refused to believe either that food would become more plentiful or that the Nuclear Power would save work. Nuclear Power or no Nuclear Power, he said, life would go on as it had always gone on-that is, badly. Apart from the disputes over the Nuclear Power, there was the question of the defence of the farm. It was fully realised that though the Inhuman CEO beings had been defeated in the Battle of the Bullcrap they might make another and more determined attempt to recapture the farm and reinstate Lord Rottenchild. They had all the more reason for doing so because the news of their defeat had spread across the countryside and made the Herds on the neighbouring farms more rebellious than ever before. As usual, Klinton and King George were in disagreement. According to King George, what the Herds must do was to procure firearms and train themselves in the use of them and preemptive attack, a new war he alled it. According to Klinton, they must send out more and more rabid right wing Neo-Con propaganda pigeons and the media whore sheep, and stir up revolution among the Herds on the other crazy farms. Then one argued that if they could not defend themselves they were bound to be conquered, the other argued that if rebellions happened everywhere they would have no need to defend themselves. The Herds listened first to King George, then to Klinton, and could not make up their minds which was right; indeed, they always found themselves in agreement with the one who was speaking at the moment. At last the day came when Klinton's plans were completed. At the Meeting on the following Sunday the question of whether or not to begin work on the Nuclear Power was to be put to the vote. When the Herds had assembled in the big barn, Klinton stood up and, though occasionally interrupted by bleating from the media whore sheep, set forth his reasons for advocating the building of the Nuclear Power. Then King George stood up to reply. He said very quietly that the Nuclear Power was nonsense and that he advised nobody to vote for it, and promptly sat down again; he had spoken for barely thirty seconds, and seemed almost indifferent as to the effect he produced. At this Klinton sprang to his feet, and shouting down the media whore sheep, who had begun bleating again, broke into a passionate appeal in favour of the Nuclear Power. Until now the Herds had been about equally divided in their sympathies, but in a moment Klinton's eloquence had carried them away. In glowing sentences he painted a picture of Crazy Farm as it might be when sordid labour was lifted from the Herds' backs. His imagination had now run far beyond chaff-cutters and turnip-slicers. Electricity, he said, could operate threshing machines, ploughs, harrows, rollers, and reapers and binders, besides supplying every stall with its own electric light, hot and cold water, and an electric heater. By the time he had finished speaking, there was no doubt as to which way the vote would go. But just at this moment King George stood up and, casting a peculiar sidelong look at Klinton, uttered a high-pitched whimper of a kind no one had ever heard him utter before. At this there was a terrible baying sound outside, and nine enormous Rover mutts, wearing metro sexual brass-studded collars came leaping and bounding, as ballerinas into the barn. They dashed straight for Klinton, who only sprang from his place just in time to escape the Rovers relentless Euphemisms. In a moment he was out of the door and they were after him. Too amazed and frightened to speak, all the Herdsmen crowded through the door to watch the chase. Klinton was hauling butt across the long pasture toward the road. He was running as only a Neo-Con can run, but the Rover mutts were close on his heels. Suddenly he slipped and it seemed certain that they had him. Then he was up again, running faster than ever, then the Rovers were gracefully gaining on him again. One of them all but closed his tutu on Klinton's tail, but Klinton whisked it free just in time. Then he put on an extra spurt and, with not a few inches to spare, slipped it through a hole in the hedge and was seen no more. It was close, but no Cigar. Silent and terrified, the Herdsmen crept back into the barn. In a moment the Rovers' came bounding back. At first no one had been able to imagine where these creatures came from, but the problem was soon solved: they were the 9 inbred mutts whom King George had taken away from their mothers and deranged privately. Though not yet full-grown, they were huge Rovers, and as Stupid-looking as Cujo. They kept close to King George. It was noticed that they wagged their, umm, 'tails' in the same way as the other Rovers had been used to do to Lord Rottenchild reared rover mutts. King George, with the Rovers following him, now mounted on to the raised portion of the floor where Major Con had previously stood to deliver his speech. He announced that from now on the Sunday-morning Meetings would come to an end. They were unnecessary, he said, and wasted time. In future all questions relating to the working of the farm would be settled by a special committee of Neo-Cons, presided over by himself. These would meet in private and afterwards communicate their decisions to the others. The Herdsmen would still assemble on Sunday mornings to salute the flag, sing Beasts of Empire, and receive their orders for the week; but there would be no more debates, there would be instead free speech lots or 'zones'. In spite of the shock that Klinton's Rapid expulsion had given them, the Herdsmen were quite dismayed by this announcement and thought that this was freedom.. Several of them would have protested if they could have found the right arguments but they, for some reason, could not.. Even Prole was vaguely troubled. He set his ears back, shook his forelock several times as if mental Cobwebs had set in and tried hard to marshal his thoughts; but in the end he could not think of anything to say, and thought perhaps he 'misremembered'. Some of the Neo-Cons themselves, however, were more articulate. Four young Repiglican porkers, whom had started calling themselves the Senate, in the front row uttered shrill squeals of disapproval, and all four of them sprang to their feet and began speaking at once. But suddenly the Rovers sitting round King George let out deep, menacing growls, and the Neo-Cons fell silent and sat down again. Then the media whore sheep broke out into a tremendous bleating of "Four Legs Good, Two Legs Bad!" this, which incredibly went on for nearly 3 years,put an end to any chance of discussion. Afterwards Wolfowizz was sent round the farm to explain the 'new' or Neo, as he said, arrangement to the others. "Herdsmen," he said, "I trust that every Herdsmen here appreciates the sacrifice that King George, a Fine RePiglican, has made in taking this Hard, Hard extra labour upon himself. Do not imagine, Herdsmen, that leadership is a pleasure! Oh, No! Do Not Listen to those that say Golf is not work, No No, you would be quite wrong, we have studies, alot of studies, with alot of words! Hard. I say, Very Hard Work, And Quite to the contrary, it is a deep and heavy responsibility. No one believes more firmly King George that all Herdsmen are equal. He would be only too happy to let you make your decisions for yourselves. But sometimes you might make the wrong decisions, Herdsmen, and you may listen to the enemies lies, and then you would be fooled, and attck the wrong enemy? and then where should we be? Suppose you had decided to follow Klinton, with his moonshine Nuclear Power-Klinton, who, as we now know, was no better than a sexual criminal lusting, stalking after our Beautiful Ann Colter driving that poor sweet blonde away with his sickening desires and cigars?" "He fought bravely at the Battle of the Bullcrap," said somebody. "Bravery is not nearly enough, this is a Neo War" said Wolfowizz. "Loyalty. Loyalty and obedience are more important We must give King George Super Power!. And as to the Battle of the BullCrap, I believe the time will come when we shall find that Klinton's part in it was much exaggerated. Discipline, Herdsmen, iron willed discipline! That is the watchword for today. One false step, and our enemies, the Terrorists would be upon us. Surely, Herdsmen, you do not want RottenChild to come back and chop you into pieces and to steal our nuclear power and to rape our virgins? We must be Free and to be Free we must fight Klintons around the World!" Once again this argument was unanswerable. Certainly the Herds did not want RottenChild back; but what did old hero Klinton have to do with Rottenchild? if the holding of debates on Sunday mornings was liable to bring him back, then the debates must stop. Prole, who had now had time to think things over, voiced the general feeling by saying: "If King George says it, it must be wrongt." And from then on he adopted the maxim, "King George is always wrong," in addition to his private motto of "So I will have to work harder." By this time the weather had broken and the spring ploughing had begun. The shed where Klinton had drawn his plans of the Nuclear Power had been shut up and it was assumed that the plans had been rubbed off the floor. Every Sunday morning at ten o'clock the Herdsmen assembled in the big barn to receive their orders for the week. The Skull Bone of old Major Con, now clean of flesh, had been disinterred from the orchard and set up on a stump at the foot of the flagstaff, beside the gun. After the hoisting of the flag, the Herdsmen were required to file past the skull bone in a reverent Manner before entering the barn. Nowadays they did not sit all together as they had done in the past. King George, with Wolfowizz and another Neo-Con named Minimus, who had a remarkable gift for composing songs and poems, sat on the front of the raised platform, with the nine mongoloid Rover mutts forming a semicircle round them, and the other head Neo-Con Repiglicans sitting behind. The rest of the Herdsmen sat facing them in the main body of the barn. King George read out the orders for the week from a telemonitor device, mangled alot of words and smirked, and after a single singing of Beasts of Empire, all the Herdsmen dispersed. On the third Sunday after Klinton's expulsion, the Herds were somewhat surprised to hear King George announce that the Nuclear Power was to be built and sold after all. He did not give any reason for having changed his mind, other than to say 'Stay The Course', but merely warned the Herds that this extra task would mean very hard work, it might even be necessary to reduce their rations. The plans, however, had all been prepared, down to the last detail. A special committee of Neo-Cons had been at work upon them for the past three weeks. The building of the Nuclear Power, with various other improvements, was expected to take two years. That evening Wolfowizz explained privately to the other Herdsmen that King George had never in 'reality-based farming' been opposed to the Neo Nuclear Power Weapons. On the contrary, it was he who had advocated it in the beginning, as a child, like a misunderstood einstein, and the plan which Klinton had drawn on the floor of the incubator shed had actually been stolen from among King George's lost emails and papers. The Nuclear Power was, in fact, King George's very own creation. Why, then, asked somebody, had he spoken so strongly against it? Here Wolfowizz looked very sly, and his eyes narrowed with great intellect, his Tail stopped for a few moments, That, he said, was King George's cunning. He had seemed to oppose the Nuclear Power, simply as a Manoeuvre to get rid of that CEO Spy and Terrorist Klinton, who was a dangerous character and a bad influence on slutty women. Now that Klinton was out of the way, the Nuclear plan could go forward without his Spying and meddling or possible sabotage. This, said Wolfowizz, was something called pre-emptive tactics and that it too, was 'Neo'. He repeated a number of times, "Neo-Tactics, Herdsmen, Neo-Tactics!" skipping round and whisking his tail with a clever laugh as if a great secret had been revealed to The Herdsmen. They were not certain what the Phrase meant, but Wolfowizz spoke so persuasively, and the three Rovers who happened to be with him grinned so deviously in agreement with the 'neo' revelation, that they accepted his explanation of Neo-Tactics without further question. (Comment on this)
2:08 am	Crazy Farm Chapter 6 The Crazy Farm [[An Obvious Ripoff of Orwell]] Chapter 6 ~ The Crazy Farm~ ALL that year the Herdsmen worked like slaves. But they were happy in their work; they grudged no effort or sacrifice, well aware that everything that they did was for the benefit of themselves and those of their kind who would come after them, and not for a pack of idle, thieving Inhuman CEO whore men beings. Throughout the spring and summer they worked a sixty-hour week, and in August King George announced that there would be work on Sunday afternoons as well. This work was strictly voluntary, but any Herd who absented himself from it would have his rations reduced by half. Even so, it was found necessary to leave certain tasks undone. The harvest was a little less successful than in the previous year, and two fields which should have been sown with roots in the early summer were not sown because the ploughing had not been completed early enough. It was possible to foresee that the coming winter would be a hard one. The Nuclear Power presented unexpected difficulties. There was a good quarry of limestone on the farm, and plenty of sand and cement and uranium had been found in one of the outhouses, so that all the materials for building were at hand. But the problem the Herds could not at first solve was how to break up the stone into pieces of suitable size. There seemed no way of doing this except with picks and crowbars, which no Herd could use, because no Herd could stand on his hind legs. Only after weeks of vain effort did the right idea occur to somebody-namely, to utilise the force of gravity. Huge boulders, far too big to be used as they were, were lying all over the bed of the quarry. The Herds lashed ropes round these, and then all together, fat cows, lame horses, media whore sheep, any Herd that could lay hold of the rope-even the Neo-Con pigs sometimes, but rarely, joined in at critical moments-they dragged them with desperate slowness up the slope to the top of the quarry, where they were toppled over the edge, to shatter to pieces below. Transporting the stone when it was once broken was comparatively simple. The horses carried it off in cart-loads, the media whore sheep dragged single blocks, even Muriel and Kennyday yoked themselves into an old governess-cart and did their share. By late summer a sufficient store of stone had accumulated, and then the building began, under the superintendence of the Neo-Cons. But it was a slow, laborious process. Frequently it took a whole day of exhausting effort to drag a single boulder to the top of the quarry, and sometimes when it was pushed over the edge it failed to break. Nothing could have been achieved without Prole, whose strength seemed equal to that of all the rest of the Herd put together. When the boulder began to slip and the Herdsmen cried out in despair at finding themselves dragged down the hill, it was always Prole who strained himself against the rope and brought the boulder to a stop. To see him toiling up the slope inch by inch, his breath coming fast, the tips of his hoofs clawing at the ground, and his great sides matted with sweat, filled everyone with admiration. Cloture warned him sometimes to be careful not to overstrain himself, but Prole would never listen to her. His two slogans, "I will have to work harder" and "Because King George is always wrong," seemed to him a sufficient answer to all problems. He had made arrangements with the cockerel to call him three-quarters of an hour earlier in the mornings instead of half an hour. And in his spare moments, of which there were not Many nowadays, he would go alone to the quarry, collect a load of broken stone, and drag it down to the site of the Nuclear Power Weapons Plant unassisted. The Herdsmen were not badly off throughout that summer, in spite of the hardness of their work. If they had no more food than they had had in Jones's day, at least they did not have less. The advantage of only having to feed themselves, and not having to support five extravagant CEO whore men as well, was so great that it would have taken a lot of failures to outweigh it. And in Many ways the Herdsmen method of doing things was more efficient and saved labour. Such jobs as weeding, for instance, could be done with a thoroughness impossible to Inhuman CEO whore men. And again, since no Herdsmen ever stole, it was unnecessary to fence off pasture from arable land, which saved a lot of labour on the upkeep of hedges and gates. Nevertheless, as the summer wore on, various unforeseen shortages began to make them selves felt. There was need of oil, gas, plastics, fruit, dog biscuits, and iron for the horses' shoes, none of which could be produced on the farm. Later there would also be need for seeds and artificial Manures, besides various tools and, finally, the machinery for the Nuclear Weapons Power. How these were to be procured, no one was able to imagine. One Sunday morning, when the Herds assembled to receive their orders, King George announced that he had decided upon a new, or Neo policy. From now onwards Crazy Farm would engage in trade with the neighbouring enemy CEO whore farms: not, of course, for any commercial purpose, but simply in order to obtain certain materials which were urgently necessary. The needs of the Nuclear Weapon Power must override everything else, he said. He was therefore making arrangements to sell a stack of hay and part of the current year's wheat crop, and later on, if more money were needed, it would have to be made up by the sale of eggs, for which there was always a market in Willingdon. The hens, said King George, should welcome this chance to sacrifice as their own special contribution towards the building of the Herdonistic Society, for betterment of herdkind, freedom, Brotherhood, clean safe Nuclear weapon Power, all this that We work for is for the safety and comfort of our children, for the Crazy Farm of future time yet unborn" Once again the Herd was conscious of a vague uneasiness. But it seemed like a decent enough plan. Offspring must always be secure. Yet Never to have any dealings with Inhuman CEO whore men, never to engage in trade, never to make use of money-had not these been among the earliest resolutions passed at that first triumphant Meeting after RottenChild was expelled? All the Herdsmen remembered passing such resolutions, or at least they thought that they remembered it. The four young repignicans, who had protested when King George abolished the Meetings, raised their voices timidly, but they were promptly silenced by a tremendous threatening know it all smirk from the Rover mutts'. Then, as usual, the media whore sheep broke into "Four Legs Good, Two Legs Bad!" and the momentary awkwardness was smoothed over. Finally King George raised his Cloven Hoof for silence and announced that he had already made all the arrangements. There would be no need for any of the Herds to come in contact with Inhuman CEO whore men, which would clearly be most undesirable. He intended to take the whole burden upon his own shoulders. A Mr. Wimpie, a Lobbyist, living in Willingdon, had agreed to act as 'reprsentative' between Crazy Farm and the outside world, and would visit the farm every Monday morning to receive his instructions. King George ended his speech with his usual cry of "Long live Crazy Farm!" and after the singing of Beasts of Empire the Herdsmen were ushered out before they could think too much. Afterwards Wolfowizz made a round of the farm and set the Herdsmen' minds at rest. He assured them that the resolution against engaging in trade and using money had never been passed, or even suggested. It was pure imagination, probably traceable in the beginning to lies circulated by Klinton. A few Herds still felt faintly doubtful, but Wolfowizz asked them shrewdly, "Are you certain that this is not something that you have dreamed, Herdsmen? Have you any record of such a resolution? Is it written down anywhere?" And since it was certainly true that nothing of the kind existed in writing, the Herdsmen were satisfied that somehow they all had been mistaken. Every Monday Mr. Wimpie visited the farm as had been arranged. He was a sly-looking little CEO with side whiskers, a lobbyist in a very small way of business, but sharp enough to have realised earlier than anyone else that Crazy Farm would need a broker and that the commissions would be worth having. The Herdsmen watched his coming and going with a kind of dread, and avoided him as much as possible. Nevertheless, the sight of King George, on all fours, delivering orders to Wimpie whore man, who stood on two legs, roused their pride and partly reconciled them to the new arrangement. Their relations with the inhuman CEO being race were now not quite the same as they had been before. The Inhuman CEO beings did not hate Crazy Farm any less now that it was prospering; indeed, they hated it more than ever. Every inhuman CEO being being held it as an article of faith that the crazy farm would go belly up sooner or later, and, above all, that the Nuclear Power would be a failure. They would meet in the public-houses and prove to one another by means of diagrams that the Nuclear Power was bound to fall down, blow up, mushroom cloud, or just not work at all. And yet, against their whore think, they had developed a certain respect for the efficiency with which the Herds were Managing their own affairs. One symptom of this was that they had begun to call Crazy Farm by its proper name and ceased to pretend that it was called the Whoremore Farm. They had also dropped their championship of Rottenchild, who had given up hope of getting his farm back and gone to live in another part of the county. Except through Wimpie, there was as yet no contact between Crazy Farm and the outside world, but there were constant rumours that King George was about to enter into a definite business agreement either with Mr. Filthington of Fauxwood or with Mr. Frederick of Stenchfield-but never, it was noticed, with both simultaneously. It was about this time that the Neo-Cons suddenly moved into the farmhouse and took up their residence there. Again the Herds seemed to remember that a resolution against this had been passed in the early days, and again Wolfowizz was able to convince them that this was not the case. It was absolutely necessary, he said, that the Neo-Cons, who were the brains of the farm, should have a quiet place to work in. It was also more suited to the dignity of the Leader (for of late he had taken to speaking of King George under the title of "Leader") to live in a house than in a mere sty. Nevertheless, some of the Herds were disturbed when they heard that the Neo-Cons not only took their meals in the kitchen and used the drawing-room as a recreation room, but also slept in the beds. Prole passed it off as usual with "King George is always wrong!, So I must Work Harder" but Cloture, who thought she remembered a definite ruling against beds, went to the end of the barn and tried to puzzle out the Seven ComMandments which were inscribed there. Finding herself unable to read more than individual letters, she fetched Muriel. "Muriel," she said, "read me the Fourth Commandment. Does it not say something about never sleeping in a bed?" With some difficulty Muriel spelt it out. "It says, 'No Herdsman shall sleep in a bed with sheets,"' she announced finally. Curiously enough, Cloture had not remembered that the Fourth Commandment mentioned sheets; but as it was there on the wall, it must have always been so. And Wolfowizz, who happened to be passing at this moment, attended by two or three mongoloid Rovers, was able to put the whole matter, quickly, in its proper perspective. "You have heard then, Herdsmen," he said and began the skip, "that we Neo-Cons now sleep in the beds of the farmhouse whore man? And why not? You did not suppose, surely, that there was ever a ruling against beds? A bed merely means a place to sleep in. A pile of straw in a stall is a bed, properly regarded. The rule was against sheets, which are a inhuman CEO whore man invention. We have removed the sheets, by Commandment, from the farmhouse beds, and sleep between blankets. And very comfortable beds they are too! But not more comfortable than we need, I can tell you, Herdsmen, with all the brainwork, and the associated paperwork created that we have to do nowadays is mind bogglingly stressful. You would not rob us of our repose, would you, Herdsmen? You would not have us too tired and stressed to carry out our duties of guarding against that terrorist Klinton would you? Surely none of you wishes to see Rottenchild come back?" The Herds reassured him on this point immediately, and no more was said about the Neo-Cons sleeping in the farmhouse beds. And when, some days afterwards, it was announced that from now on the Neo-Cons would get up an hour later in the mornings than the other Herds, no complaint was made about that either. By the autumn the Herdsmen were tired but happy. They had had a hard year, and after the sale of part of the hay and corn, the stores of food for the winter were none too plentiful, but the Nuclear Power compensated for everything. It was almost half built now. After the harvest there was a stretch of clear dry weather, and the Herd toiled harder than ever, thinking it well worth while to plod to and fro all day with blocks of stone if by doing so they could raise the walls another foot. Prole would even come out at nights and work for an hour or two on his own by the light of the harvest moon. In their spare moments the Herds would walk round and round the half-finished mill, admiring the strength and perpendicularity of its walls and marvelling that they should ever have been able to build anything so imposing. Only old Kennyday refused to grow enthusiastic about the Nuclear Power, though, as usual, he would utter nothing beyond the cryptic remark that donkeys live a long time. November came, with raging south-west winds. Building had to stop because it was now too wet to mix the cement. Finally there came a night when the gale was so violent that the farm buildings rocked on their foundations and several tiles were blown off the roof of the barn. The hens woke up squawking with terror because they had all dreamed simultaneously of hearing a gun go off in the distance. In the morning the Herds came out of their stalls to find that the flagstaff had been blown down and an elm tree at the foot of the orchard had been plucked up like a radish. They had just noticed this when a cry of despair broke from every Herd's throat. A terrible sight had met their eyes. The Nuclear Power was in ruins. With one accord they dashed down to the spot. King George, who seldom moved out of a walk, raced ahead of them all. Yes, there it lay, the fruit of all their struggles, levelled to its foundations, the stones they had broken and carried so laboriously scattered all around. Unable at first to speak, they stood gazing mournfully at the litter of fallen stone King George paced to and fro in silence, occasionally snuffing at the ground. His tail had grown rigid and twitched sharply from side to side, a sign in him of intense mental activity. Suddenly he halted as though his mind were made up. "Herds," he said quietly, "do you know who is responsible for this? Do you know the enemy who has come in the night and overthrown our Nuclear Power? Klinton!" he suddenly roared in a voice of thunder. "Klinton has done this thing! In sheer malignity, thinking to set back our plans and avenge himself for his ignominious expulsion, and perverse impeachment this traitor has crept here under cover of night and destroyed our work of nearly a year. O' Herd, here and now I pronounce the death sentence upon Klinton. 'Animal Hero, Second Class,' and half a bushel of apples to any Herdsmen who brings him to justice. A full bushel to anyone who captures him alive!" The Herds were shocked beyond measure to learn that even Klinton could be guilty of such an action. There was a cry of indignation, and everyone began thinking out ways of catching Klinton if he should ever come back. Almost immediately the footprints of a Neo-Con were discovered in the grass at a little distance from the knoll. They could only be traced for a few yards, but appeared to lead to a hole in the hedge. King George snuffed deeply at them and pronounced them to be Klinton's. He gave it as his opinion that Klinton had probably come from the direction of Fauxwood Farm. "No more delays, Hordes!" cried King George when the footprints had been examined. "There is work to be done. This very morning we begin rebuilding the Nuclear Power, and we will build all through the winter, rain or shine. We will teach this miserable traitor that he cannot undo our work so easily. Remember, Hordes, there must be no alteration in our plans: they shall be carried out to the day. Forward, Hordes! Long live the Nuclear Power! Long live Crazy Farm!" (Comment on this)
2:07 am	Crazy Farm Chapter 7 The Crazy Farm [[An Obvious Ripoff of Orwell]] Chapter 7 ~ The Crazy Farm~ IT was a bitter winter. The stormy weather was followed by sleet and snow, and then by a hard frost which did not break till well into February. The Herdsmen carried on as best they could with the rebuilding of the Nuclear Power, well knowing that the outside world was watching them and that the envious CEO whore men would rejoice and triumph if the Nuclear Power were not finished on time or work. Out of spite, the Inhuman CEO beings pretended not to believe that it was Klinton who had destroyed the Nuclear Power: they said that it had fallen down because the walls were too thin. The Herds knew that this was not the case because King George had said so. Still, it had been decided to build the walls three feet thick this time instead of eighteen inches as before, which meant collecting much larger quantities of stone. For a long time the quarry was full of snowdrifts and nothing could be done. Some progress was made in the dry frosty weather that followed, but it was cruel work, and the Herdsmen could not feel so hopeful about it as they had felt before. They were always cold, and usually hungry as well. Only Prole and Cloture never lost heart. Wolfowizz made excellent speeches on the joy of service and the dignity of labour, but the other Herds found more inspiration in Prole's strength and his never-failing cry of "I will work harder! " In January food fell short. The corn ration was drastically reduced, and it was announced that an extra potato ration would be issued to make up for it. Then it was discovered that the greater part of the potato crop had been frosted in the clamps, which had not been covered thickly enough. The potatoes had become soft and discoloured, and only a few were edible. For days at a time the Herdsmen had nothing to eat but chaff and Mangels. Starvation seemed to stare them in the face. It was vitally necessary to conceal this fact from the outside world. Emboldened by the collapse of the Nuclear Power, the Inhuman CEO beings were inventing fresh lies about Crazy Farm. Once again it was being put about that all the Herds were dying of corruption and disease, famine and Murder, and that they were continually fighting among themselves and had resorted to cannibalism and infanticide. King George was well aware of the bad results that might follow if the real facts of the food situation were known, and he decided to make use of Mr. Wimpie to spread a contrary impression. Hitherto the Herdsmen had had little or no contact with Wimpie on his weekly visits: now, however, a few selected Herds, mostly media whore sheep, were instructed to remark casually in his hearing that rations had been increased. In addition, King George ordered the almost empty bins in the store-shed to be filled nearly to the brim with sand, which was then covered up with what remained of the grain and meal. On some suitable pretext Wimpie was led through the store-shed and allowed to catch a glimpse of the bins. He was deceived, and continued to report to the outside world that there was no food shortage on Crazy Farm. Nevertheless, towards the end of January it became obvious that it would be necessary to procure some more grain from somewhere. In these days King George rarely appeared in public, but spent all his time in the farmhouse, which was guarded at each door by a fat doughy-looking Rover. When he did emerge, it was in a ceremonial Manner, with an escort of six Rovers who closely surrounded him and wrote down names if anyone came too near. Frequently he did not even appear on Sunday mornings, but issued his orders through one of the other Neo-Cons, usually Wolfowizz. One Sunday morning Wolfowizz announced that the hens, who had just come in to lay again, must surrender their eggs. King George had accepted, through Wimpie, a contract for four hundred eggs a week. The price of these would pay for enough grain and meal to keep the farm going till summer came on and conditions were easier. When the hens heard this, they raised a terrible squawk. They had been warned earlier that this sacrifice might be necessary, but had not believed that it would really happen. They were just getting their clutches ready for the spring sitting, and they protested that to take the eggs away now was murder. For the first time since the expulsion of Rottenchild, there was something resembling a revolution. Led by three young Black Minorca pullets, the hens made a determined effort to thwart King George's wishes. Their method was to fly up to the rafters and there lay their eggs, which smashed to pieces on the floor. King George acted swiftly and ruthlessly. He ordered the wayward hens' rations to be stopped, and decreed that any Herdsmen giving so much as a grain of corn to a rebellious hen should be punished by death. The Rovers saw to it that these orders were carried out. For five days the hens held out, then they capitulated and went back to their nesting boxes. Nine hens had died in the meantime. Their bodies were buried in the orchard, and it was given out that they had died of coccidiosis. Wimpie heard nothing of this affair, and the eggs were duly delivered, a grocer's van driving up to the farm once a week to take them away. All this while no more had been seen of Klinton. He was rumoured to be hiding on one of the neighbouring farms, either Fauxwood or Stenchfield. King George was by this time on slightly better terms with the other lobbyists than before. It happened that there was in the yard a pile of timber which had been stacked there ten years earlier when a beech spinney was cleared. It was well seasoned, and Wimpie had advised King George to sell it; both Mr. Filthington and Mr. Frederick were anxious to buy it. King George was hesitating between the two, unable to make up his mind. It was noticed that whenever he seemed on the point of coming to an agreement with Frederick, Klinton was declared to be in hiding at Fauxwood, while, when he inclined toward Filthington, Klinton was said to be at Stenchfield. Suddenly, early in the spring, an alarming thing was discovered. Klinton was secretly frequenting the farm by night! The Herdsmen were so disturbed that they could hardly sleep in their stalls. Every night, it was said, he came creeping in under cover of darkness and performed all kinds of mischief. He stole the corn, he upset the milk-pails, he broke the eggs, he trampled the seedbeds, he gnawed the bark off the fruit trees. Whenever anything went wrong it became usual to attribute it to Klinton. If a window was broken or a drain was blocked up, someone was certain to say that Klinton had come in the night and done it, and when the key of the store-shed was lost, the whole farm was convinced that Klinton had thrown it down the well. Curiously enough, they went on believing this even after the mislaid key was found under a sack of meal. The moronic cows declared unanimously that Klinton crept into their stalls and milked them in their sleep. The dirty Rat Lobbyists, which had been troublesome that winter, were also said to be in league with Klinton. King George decreed that there should be a full Senate investigation into Klinton's activities. With his Rovers in attendance he set out and made a careful round of inspection of the farm buildings, the other Herdsmen following at a respectful distance. At every few steps King George stopped and snuffed the ground for traces of Klinton's footsteps, which, he said, he could detect by the smell. He snuffed in every corner, in the barn, in the cow-shed, in the henhouses, in the vegetable garden, and found traces of Klinton almost everywhere. He would put his snout to the ground, give several deep sniffs, then exclaim in a terrible voice, "Klinton! He has been here! I can smell him that wretched terrorist distinctly!" and at the word "Klinton" all the Rovers let out blood-curdling whine and showed their side teeth. The Herdsmen were thoroughly frightened. It seemed to them as though Klinton were some kind of invisible influence, pervading the air about them effortlessly and menacing them with all kinds of dangers known and unknown. In the evening Wolfowizz called them together, and with an alarmed expression on his face told them that he had some very very serious news to report. "O' Great Herdsmen!" cried Wolfowizz, making little nervous skips, "a most terrible thing has been discovered. Klinton has sold himself to Frederick of Stenchfield Farm, who is even now plotting to attack us with weapons of a most horrid nature and take our farm away from us! Klinton is to act as his guide when the attack begins. But there is worse than that. We had thought that Klinton's revolution was caused simply by his vanity and ambition. But we were wrong, Herdsmen, we were sold bad intelligence. Do you want to know what the terrible real reason was? Klinton was in league with RottenChild from the very start! He was Rottschilds' double secret agent all the time. It has all been proved by classified documents that we can't show you due to National Security, King George has found these plans which he left behind him and which we have only just recently discovered. To my mind this explains a great deal, Herdsmen. Did we not see for ourselves how he attempted-fortunately without success-to get us defeated and destroyed at the Battle of the Bullcrap?" The Herds were stupefied. This was a wickedness far outdoing Klinton's destruction of the Nuclear Power. But it was some minutes before they could fully take it in. They all remembered, or thought they remembered, how they had seen Klinton charging ahead of them at the Battle of the Bullcrap, how he had rallied and encouraged them at every turn, and how he had not paused for an instant even when the pellets from Rottenchilds gun had wounded his back. At first it was a little difficult to see how this fitted in with his being on RottenChilds side. Even Prole, who seldom asked questions, was very puzzled. He lay down, tucked his fore hoofs beneath him, shut his eyes, squinted them further as if to see, and with a hard effort Managed to formulate his thoughts. "I do not believe that," he said. "Klinton fought bravely at the Battle of the Bullcrap?. I saw him myself. Did we not give him 'Herd Hero, first Class,' immediately afterwards?" "That was our mistake, Herdsman Prole. For we know now-it is all written down in the super secret documents that we have found-that in reality he was trying to sell us off luring us to our doom." "But he was wounded," said Prole. "We all saw him running with blood." "That was part of the Ploy!" cried Wolfowizz. "Rottenchild' only shot to graze him. I could show you this in his own writing, the Secret documents, that is if you were able to read it. The plot was for Klinton, at the critical moment, to give the signal for flight and abandon the field to the enemy. And he very nearly succeeded-I will even say, Herdsmen, he would have succeeded if it had not been for our heroic Leader, King George. Do you not remember how, just at the moment when RottenChild and his men had got inside the yard, Klinton suddenly turned and fled, and Many of the Herdsmen followed him? And do you not remember, too, that it was just at that moment, when panic was spreading and all seemed lost, that King George sprang forward with a cry of 'Death to Terrorists!' and sank his teeth in Rottenchilds' leg? Surely you remember that vivid moment, Herdsmen?" exclaimed Wolfowizz, frisking from side to side, tail whipping smartly, knowingly somehow. Now when Wolfowizz described the scene so graphically, it seemed to the Herdsmen yes, we are not stupid, sure we remember now. Not that they did remember it. At any rate, they remembered that at the critical moment of the battle Klinton had turned to flee. But Prole was still a little uneasy and with a feeling of swimming in jello he formed emoted a thought "I do not believe that Klinton was a traitor at the beginning," he said finally. "What he has done since is different. But I believe that at the Battle of the Bullcrap he was a good Herd Member." "Our Leader, King George," announced Wolfowizz, speaking very slowly and firmly, "has stated categorically-categorically, Herdsmen, undeniably, accurately, that Klinton was Rottenchilds agent from the very beginning-yes, and from long before the Rebellion was ever thought of." "Ah, that is different!" said Prole. "If King George says it, it must be wrong, And I must work Harder to make up for that." "That is the true spirit O' Herdsman Prole!" cried Wolfowizz, but it was noticed he cast a very ugly look at Prole with his little beady hitlerish eyes. He turned to go, then paused and added impressively: "I warn every Herd on this farm to keep his eyes very wide open. For we have reason to think that some of Klinton's secret agents, the Terrorist's, are lurking among us at this very moment! " Four days later, in the late afternoon, King George ordered all the Herdsmen to assemble in the yard. When they were all gathered together, King George emerged from the farmhouse, wearing both his medals (for he had recently awarded himself "Animal Herd Hero, First Class," and "Animal Herd Hero, Second Class"), with his nine fat bald Rover Dogs frisking round him and uttering threats that sent shivers down all the Herds' spines. They all cowered silently in their places, seeming to know in advance that some terrible thing was about to happen. King George stood sternly surveying his audience; then he uttered a high-pitched whimper. Immediately the Rover Rovers' bounded forward, seized four of the Neo-Cons by the ear and dragged them, squealing with pain and terror, to King George's feet. The Neo-Cons' ears were bleeding, the Rover Dogs had tasted blood, and for a few moments they appeared to go quite mad. To the amazement of everybody, three of them flung themselves upon Prole. Prole saw them coming and put out his great hoof, caught a Rover in mid-air, and pinned him to the ground. The inbred mutt shrieked for mercy and the other two fled with their tails between their legs. Prole looked at King George to know whether he should crush the dog to death or let it go. King George appeared to change countenance, and sharply ordered Prole to let the dog go, whereat Prole lifted his hoof, and the Rover slunk away, bruised and howling. Presently the tumult died down. The four Repignicans waited, trembling, with guilt written on every line of their countenances. King George now called upon them to confess their crimes. They were the same four Repignicans as had protested when King George abolished the Sunday Meetings. Without any further prompting or waterboarding they confessed that they had been secretly in touch with Klinton ever since his expulsion, that they had collaborated with him in destroying the Nuclear Power, and that they had entered into an agreement with him to hand over Crazy Farm to Mr. Frederick. They added that Klinton had privately admitted to them that he had been Rottenchilds secret agent for years past. When they had finished their confession, the Rovers promptly tore their throats out, and in a terrible Smirk King George demanded "Look -any other herdsmen have anything to confess? Bring it on". The three turncoat hens who had been the ringleaders in the attempted revolution over the eggs now came forward and stated that Klinton had appeared to them in a dream and incited them to disobey King George's orders. They, too, were slaughtered. Then a goose came forward and confessed to having secreted six ears of corn during the last year's harvest and eaten them in the night. Then a media whore sheep confessed to having urinated in the drinking pool-urged to do this, so she said, by Klinton. Two other media whore sheep confessed to having murdered an old ram named Gingrick, an especially devoted follower of King George, by chasing his largesse round and round an all you can eat salad bar when he was suffering from a cough. They were all slain on the spot. And so the tale of confessions and executions went on, until there was a pile of traiterous corpses lying before King George's feet and the air was heavy with the rusty smell of blood, which had been unknown there since the expulsion of RottenChild. When it was all over, the remaining Herdsmen, except for the Neo-Cons and Rovers mutts, crept away in a group. They were horribly shaken and miserable. They did not know which was more shocking-the treachery of the Herdsmen who had leagued themselves with Klinton, or the cruel retribution they had just witnessed. In the old days there had often been scenes of bloodshed equally terrible, but it seemed to all of them that it was far worse now that it was happening among themselves. Since RottenChild had left the farm, until today, no Herdsmen had killed another Herdsmen. Not even a rat had been killed. They had made their way on to the little knoll where the half-finished Nuclear Power plant stood, and with one accord they all lay down as though huddling together for warmth-Cloture, Muriel, Kennyday, the cows, the media whore sheep, and a whole flock of geese and hens-everyone, indeed, except the cat, who had suddenly disappeared just before King George ordered the Herdsmen to assemble. For some time nobody spoke. Only Prole remained on his feet. He fidgeted to and fro, swishing his long black tail against his sides and occasionally uttering a little whinny of surprise. Finally he said: "I do not understand it. I would not have believed that such things could happen on our farm. It must be due to some fault in ourselves. The solution, as I see it, is to work harder. From now onwards I shall get up a full hour earlier in the mornings." And he moved off at his lumbering trot and made for the quarry. Having got there, he collected two successive loads of stone and dragged them down to the Nuclear Power before retiring for the night. The Herdsmen huddled about Cloture, not speaking. The knoll where they were lying gave them a wide prospect across the countryside. Most of Crazy Farm was within their view-the long pasture stretching down to the main road, the hayfield, the spinney, the drinking pool, the ploughed fields where the young wheat was thick and green, and the red roofs of the farm buildings with the smoke curling from the chimneys. It was a clear spring evening. The grass and the bursting hedges were gilded by the level rays of the sun. Never had the farm-and with a kind of surprise they remembered that it was their own farm, every inch of it their own property-appeared to the Herds so desirable a place. As Cloture looked down the hillside her eyes filled with tears. If she could have spoken her thoughts, it would have been to say that this was not what they had aimed at when they had set themselves years ago to work for the overthrow of the inhuman CEO whore men. These scenes of terror and slaughter were not what they had looked forward to on that night when old Major Con first stirred them to revolution. If she herself had had any picture of the future, it had been of a society of Herdsmen set free from hunger and the whip, all equal, each working according to his capacity, the strong protecting the weak, as she had protected the lost brood of dumb ducklings with her foreleg on the night of Major Con's speech. Instead-she did not know why-they had come to a time when no one dared speak his mind, when lying scandalous Rover mongoloids roamed everywhere, and when you had to watch your Herdsmen torn to pieces after confessing to shocking crimes. There was no thought of revolution or disobedience in her mind. She knew that, even as things were, they were far better off than they had been in the days of Rottenchild, and that before all else it was needful to prevent the return of the Inhuman CEO beings. Whatever happened she would remain faithful, work hard, carry out the orders that were given to her, and accept the leadership of King George. But still, it was not for this that she and all the other Herds had hoped and toiled. It was not for this that they had built the Nuclear Power Plant and faced the bullets of Rottenchilds gun. Such were her thoughts, though she lacked the words to express them. At last, feeling this to be in some way a substitute for the words she was unable to find, she began to sing Beasts of Empire. The other Herdsmen sitting round her took it up, and they sang it three times over-very tunefully, but slowly and mournfully, in a way they had never sung it before. They had just finished singing it for the third time when Wolfowizz, attended by two mongoloidal Rovers, approached them with the air of having something important to say. He announced that, by a special decree of King George, Beasts of Empire had been abolished. From now onwards it was forbidden to sing it. The Herdsmen were taken aback. "Why?" cried Muriel. "It's no longer needed, Herdsmen," said Wolfowizz stiffly. "Beasts of Empire was the song of the Rebellion. But the Rebellion is now completed. The execution of the traitors this afternoon was the final act. The enemy both external and internal has been defeated. In Beasts of Empire we expressed our longing for a better society in days to come. But that society has now been established. Clearly this song has no longer any purpose." Frightened though they were, some of the Herdsmen might possibly have protested, but at this moment the media whore sheep set up their usual bleating of "Four Legs Good, Two Legs Bad," which went on for several minutes and put an end to the discussion. So Beasts of Empire was heard no more. In its place Minimus, the poet, had composed another song which began: Crazy Farm, Crazy Farm, Never through me shalt thou come to harm! and this was sung every Sunday morning after the hoisting of the flag. But somehow neither the words nor the tune ever seemed to the Herds to come up to Beasts of Empire. (Comment on this)
2:06 am	Crazy Farm Chapter 8 The Crazy Farm [[An Obvious Ripoff of Orwell]] Chapter 8 ~ The Crazy Farm~ A FEW days later, when the terror caused by the executions had died down, some of the Herds remembered-or thought they remembered-that the Sixth ComMandment decreed "No Herdsman shall kill any other Herdsman." And though no one cared to mention it in the hearing of the Neo-Cons or the Rovers', it was felt that the killings which had taken place did not square with this. Cloture asked Kennyday to read her the Sixth ComMandment, and when Kennyday, as usual, said that he refused to meddle in such matters, she fetched Muriel. Muriel read the ComMandment for her. It ran: "No Herdsman shall kill any other Herdsman without cause." Somehow or other, the last two words had slipped out of the Herds' memory. But they saw now that the Commandment had not been violated; for clearly there was good reason for killing the traitors who had leagued themselves with Klinton. Throughout the year the Herds worked even harder than they had worked in the previous year To rebuild the Nuclear Power, with walls twice as thick as before, and to finish it by the appointed date, together with the regular work of the farm, was a tremendous labour. There were times when it seemed to the Herds that they worked longer hours and fed no better than they had done in Jones's day. On Sunday mornings Wolfowizz, holding down a long strip of paper with his Cloven Hoof, would read out to them lists of figures proving that the production of every class of foodstuff had increased by two hundred per cent, three hundred per cent, or five hundred per cent, as the case might be. The Herds saw no reason to disbelieve him, especially as they could no longer remember very clearly what conditions had been like before the Rebellion. All the same, there were days when they felt that they would sooner have had less figures and more food. All orders were now issued through Wolfowizz or one of the other Neo-Cons. King George himself was not seen in public as often as once in a fortnight. When he did appear, he was attended not only by his retinue of Rovers' but by a black cockerel who marched in front of him and acted as a kind of trumpeter, letting out a loud "cock-a-doodle-doo" before King George spoke. Even in the farmhouse, it was said, King George inhabited separate apartments from the others. He took his meals alone, with two Rovers to wait upon him, and always ate from the Crown Derby dinner service which had been in the glass cupboard in the drawing-room. It was also announced that the gun would be fired every year on King George's birthday, as well as on the other two anniversaries. King George was now never spoken of simply as "King George." He was always referred to in formal style as "our Leader, King George," and this Neo-Cons liked to invent for him such titles as Father of All Animals, Terror of Mankind, Protector of the media whore sheep, Ducklings' Friend, and the like. In his speeches, Wolfowizz would talk with the tears rolling down his cheeks of King George's wisdom the goodness of his heart, and the deep love he bore to all Herdsmen everywhere, even and especially the unhappy Herdsmen who still lived in ignorance and slavery on other farms. It had become usual to give King George the credit for every successful achievement and every stroke of good fortune. You would often hear one cackling hen remark to another, "Under the guidance of our Leader, King George, I have laid five eggs in six days"; or two cows, enjoying a drink at the pool, would exclaim, "Thanks to the leadership of King George, how excellent this water tastes!" The general feeling on the farm was well expressed in a poem entitled King George, which was composed by Minimus and which ran as follows: Friend of fatherless! Fountain of happiness! Lord of the swill-bucket! Oh, how my soul is on Fire when I gaze at thy Calm and commanding eye, Like the sun in the sky, King George! Thou are the giver of All that thy creatures love, Full belly twice a day, clean straw to roll upon; Every beast great or small Sleeps at peace in his stall, Thou watchest over all, King George! Had I a sucking-Neo-Con, Ere he had grown as big Even as a pint bottle or as a rolling-pin, He should have learned to be Faithful and true to thee, Yes, his first squeak should be King George whose a pig like me!" King George approved of this poem and caused it to be inscribed on the wall of the big barn, at the opposite end from the Seven ComMandments. It was surmounted by a portrait of King George, in profile, executed by Wolfowizz in white paint. Meanwhile, through the agency of Wimpie, King George was engaged in complicated negotiations with Frederick and Filthington. The pile of timber was still unsold. Of the two, Frederick was the more anxious to get hold of it, but he would not offer a reasonable price. At the same time there were renewed rumours that Frederick and his men were plotting to attack Crazy Farm and to destroy the Nuclear Power plant, the building of which had aroused furious jealousy in him. Klinton was known to be still skulking on Stenchfield Farm. In the middle of the summer the Herds were alarmed to hear that three hens had come forward and confessed that, inspired by Klinton, they had entered into a plot to murder King George. They were executed immediately, and fresh precautions for King George's safety were taken. Four Rovers guarded his bed at night, one at each corner, and a young Neo-Con named Pinkeye was given the task of tasting all his food before he ate it, lest it should be poisoned. At about the same time it was given out that King George had arranged to sell the pile of timber to Mr. Filthington; he was also going to enter into a regular agreement for the exchange of certain products between Crazy Farm and Fauxwood. The relations between King George and Filthington, though they were only conducted through Wimpie, were now almost friendly. The animals distrusted Filthington, as a inhuman CEO being, but greatly preferred him to Frederick, whom they both feared and hated. As the summer wore on, and the Nuclear Power neared completion, the rumours of an impending treacherous attack grew stronger and stronger. Frederick, it was said, intended to bring against them twenty men all armed with guns, and he had already bribed the magistrates and police, so that if he could once get hold of the title-deeds of Crazy Farm they would ask no questions. Moreover, terrible stories were leaking out from Stenchfield about the cruelties that Frederick practised upon his Herd. He had flogged an old horse to death, he starved his cows, he had killed a dog by throwing it into the furnace, he amused himself in the evenings by making cocks fight with splinters of razor-blade tied to their spurs. The Herds' blood boiled with rage when they heard of these things beingdone to their Brethren, and sometimes they clamoured to be allowed to go out in a group and attack Stenchfield Farm, drive out the inhuman CEO beings, and set the Herds free. But Wolfowizz counselled them to avoid rash actions and trust in King George's strategy whatever that was. Nevertheless, Anger and Fear Frederick continued to run amok. One Sunday morning King George appeared in the barn and explained that he had never at any time contemplated selling the pile of timber to Frederick; he considered it beneath his dignity, he said, to have dealings with scoundrels of that description. The Neo-Con Pigeons or propaganda who were still sent out to spread tidings of the Rebellion were forbidden to set foot anywhere on Fauxwood, and were also ordered to drop their former slogan of "Death to InHumanity" in favour of "Death to Frederick." In the late summer yet another of Klinton's machinations was laid bare. The wheat crop was full of weeds, and it was discovered that on one of his nocturnal visits Klinton had mixed weed seeds with the seed corn. A gander who had been privy to the plot had confessed his guilt to Wolfowizz and immediately committed suicide by swallowing deadly nightshade berries. The Herdsmen now also learned that Klinton had never-as Many of them had believed hitherto-received the order of "Herd Hero First Class." This was merely a legend which had been spread some time after the Battle of the Bullcrap by Klinton himself. So far from being decorated, he had been swiftboated for showing cowardice in the battle. Once again some of the Herdsmen heard this with a certain bewilderment, but Wolfowizz was soon able to convince them that their memories had been at fault once again. In the autumn, by a tremendous, exhausting effort-for the harvest had to be gathered at almost the same time-the Nuclear Power plant was finished. The machinery had still to be installed, and Wimpie was negotiating the purchase of it, but the structure was completed. In the teeth of every difficulty, in spite of inexperience, of primitive implements, of bad luck and of Terrorist Klinton's treachery, the work had been finished punctually to the very day! Tired out but proud, the Herdsmen walked round and round their masterpiece, which appeared even more beautiful in their eyes than when it had been built the first time. Moreover, the walls were twice as thick as before. Nothing short of explosives would lay them low this time! And when they thought of how they had laboured, what discouragements they had overcome, and the enormous difference that would be made in their lives when the waters were running and the dynamos arcing-when they thought of all this, their tiredness forsook them and they gambolled round and round the Nuclear Power Weapon, uttering cries of triumph. King George himself, attended by his Rovers and his cockerel, came down to inspect the completed work; he personally congratulated the Herds on their achievement, and announced that the Plantl would be named King George Nuke Plant. Two days later the Herdsmen were called together for a special meeting in the barn. They were struck dumb with surprise when King George announced that he had sold the pile of timber to Frederick. Tomorrow Frederick's wagons would arrive and begin carting it away. Throughout the whole period of his seeming friendship with Filthington, King George had really been in secret agreement with Frederick. All relations with Fauxwood had been broken off; insulting messages had been sent to Filthington. The Neo-Con pigeons had been told to avoid Stenchfield Farm and to alter their slogan from "Death to Frederick" to "Death to Filthington." At the same time King George assured the Herds that the stories of an impending attack on Crazy Farm were completely untrue, and that the tales about Frederick's cruelty to his own Herds had been greatly exaggerated. All these rumours had probably originated with that deviant Klinton and his CEO whore man agents. It now appeared that Klinton was not, after all, hiding on Stenchfield Farm, and in fact had never been there in his life: he was living-in considerable luxury, so it was said-at Fauxwood, and had in reality been a pensioner of Filthington for years past. The Neo-Con Repignicans were in ecstasies over King George's cunning. By seeming to be friendly with Filthington he had forced Frederick to raise his price by twelve pounds. But the superior quality of King George's mind, said Wolfowizz, was shown in the fact that he trusted nobody, not even Frederick. Frederick had wanted to pay for the timber with something called a cheque, which, it seemed, was a piece of paper with a promise to pay written upon it. But King George was too clever for him. He had deManded payment in real five-pound notes, which were to be handed over before the timber was removed. Already Frederick had paid up; and the sum he had paid was just enough to buy the Uranium for the Nuclear Power Plant Meanwhile the timber was being carted away at high speed. When it was all gone, another special meeting was held in the barn for the Herds to inspect Frederick's bank-notes. Smiling beatifically, and wearing both his decorations, King George reposed on a bed of straw on the platform, with the money at his side, neatly piled on a china dish from the farmhouse kitchen. The Herds filed slowly past, and each gazed his fill. And Prole put out his nose to sniff at the bank-notes, and the flimsy white things stirred and rustled in his breath. Three days later there was a terrible hullabaloo. Wimpie, his face deadly pale, came racing up the path on his bicycle, flung it down in the yard and rushed straight into the farmhouse. The next moment a choking roar of rage sounded from King George's apartments. The news of what had happened sped round the farm like wildfire. The banknotes were forgeries! Frederick had got the timber for nothing! King George called the animals together immediately and in a terrible voice pronounced the death sentence upon Frederick. When captured, he said, Frederick should be boiled alive. At the same time he warned them that after this treacherous deed the worst was to be expected. Frederick and his men might make their long-expected attack at any moment. Sentinels were placed at all the approaches to the farm. In addition, four Neo-pigeons were sent to Fauxwood with a conciliatory message, which it was hoped might re-establish good relations with Filthington. The very next morning the attack came. The Herdsmen were at breakfast when the look-outs came racing in with the news that Frederick and his followers had already come through the five-barred gate. Boldly enough the Herdsmen sallied forth to meet them, but this time they did not have the easy victory that they had had in the Battle of the Bullcrap. There were fifteen men, with half a dozen guns between them, and they opened fire as soon as they got within fifty yards. The Herdsmen could not face the terrible explosions and the stinging pellets, and in spite of the efforts of King George and Prole to rally them, they were soon driven back. A number of them were already wounded. They took refuge in the farm buildings and peeped cautiously out from chinks and knot-holes. The whole of the big pasture, including the Nuclear Power, was in the hands of the enemy. For the moment even King George seemed at a loss. He paced up and down without a word, his tail rigid and twitching. Wistful glances were sent in the direction of Fauxwood. If Filthington and his men would help them, the day might yet be won. But at this moment the four Neo-Coneons, who had been sent out on the day before, returned, one of them bearing a scrap of paper from Filthington. On it was pencilled the words: "Serves you right." Meanwhile Frederick and his men had halted about the Nuclear Power plan. The Herdsmen watched them, and a murmur of dismay went round. Two of the men had produced a crowbar and a sledge hammer. They were going to knock the Nuclear Power plant down. "Impossible!" cried King George. "We have built the walls far too thick for that. They could not knock it down in a week. Courage, Herdsmen!" But Kennyday was watching the movements of the men intently. The two with the hammer and the crowbar were drilling a hole near the base of the Nuclear Power. Slowly, and with an air almost of amusement, Kennyday nodded his long muzzle. "I thought so," he said. "Do you not see what they are doing? In another moment they are going to pack blasting powder into that hole." Terrified, the Herdsmen waited. It was impossible now to venture out of the shelter of the buildings. After a few minutes the men were seen to be running in all directions. Then there was a deafening roar. The Neo-pigeons swirled into the air, and all the Herdsmen, except King George, flung themselves flat on their bellies and hid their faces. When they got up again, a huge cloud of black smoke was hanging where the Nuclear Power plant had been. Slowly the breeze drifted it away. The Nuclear Power had ceased to exist! At this sight the Herds' courage returned to them. The fear and despair they had felt a moment earlier were drowned in their rage against this vile, contemptible act. A mighty cry for vengeance went up, and without waiting for further orders they charged forth in a body and made straight for the CEO whore man enemy. This time they did not heed the cruel pellets that swept over them like hail. It was a savage, bitter battle. The men fired again and again, and, when the Herdsmen got to close quarters, lashed out with their sticks and their heavy boots. A cow, three media whore sheep, and two geese were killed, and nearly everyone was wounded. Even King George, who was directing operations from the rear, had the tip of his tail chipped by a pellet. But the men did not go unscathed either. Three of them had their heads broken by blows from Prole's hoofs; another was gored in the belly by a cow's horn; another had his trousers nearly torn off by Negropunty and Kondie. And when the nine Rovers' of King George's own bodyguard, whom he had instructed to make a detour under cover of the hedge, suddenly appeared on the men's flank, baying ferociously, panic overtook them. They saw that they were in danger of being surrounded. Frederick shouted to his men to get out while the going was good, and the next moment the cowardly enemy was running for dear life. The Herds chased them right down to the bottom of the field, and got in some last kicks at them as they forced their way through the thorn hedge. They had won, but they were weary and bleeding. Slowly they began to limp back towards the farm. The sight of their dead Hordes stretched upon the grass moved some of them to tears. And for a little while they halted in sorrowful silence at the place where the Nuclear Power plant had once stood. Yes, it was gone; almost the last trace of their labour was gone! Even the foundations were partially destroyed. And in rebuilding it they could not this time, as before, make use of the fallen stones. This time the stones had vanished too. The force of the explosion had flung them to distances of hundreds of yards. It was as though the Nuclear Power had never been. As they approached the farm Wolfowizz, who had unaccountably been absent during the fighting, came skipping towards them, whisking his tail and beaming with satisfaction. And the Herdsmen heard, from the direction of the farm buildings, the solemn booming of a gun. "What is that gun firing for?" said Prole. "To celebrate our victory!" cried Wolfowizz. "What victory?" said Prole. His knees were bleeding, he had lost a shoe and split his hoof, and a dozen pellets had lodged themselves in his hind leg. "What victory, O' Herd? Have we not driven the enemy off our soil-the sacred soil of Crazy Farm? " "But they have destroyed the Nuclear Power. And we had worked on it for two years!" "What matter? We will build another Nuclear Power. We will build six windmills if we feel like it. You do not appreciate, O' Herdsmen, the mighty thing that we have done. The enemy was in occupation of this very ground that we stand upon. And now-thanks to the leadership of King George-we have won every inch of it back again!" "Then we have won back what we had before," said Prole. "That is our victory," said Wolfowizz. They limped into the yard. The pellets under the skin of Prole's leg smarted painfully. He saw ahead of him the heavy labour of rebuilding the Nuclear Power from the foundations, and already in imagination he braced himself for the task. But for the first time it occurred to him that he was getting old and that perhaps his great muscles were not quite what they had once been. But when the Herdsmen saw the green flag flying, and heard the gun firing again-seven times it was fired in all-and heard the speech that King George made, congratulating them on their conduct, it did seem to them after all that they had won a great victory. The Herd members that were slain in the battle were given a solemn funeral. Prole and Cloture pulled the wagon which served as a hearse, and King George himself walked at the head of the procession. Two whole days were given over to celebrations. There were songs, speeches, and more firing of the gun, and a special gift of medal of Freedom was bestowed on a few Rovers, the Herdsmen were left with two ounces of corn for each bird and three biscuits for each dog. It was announced that the battle would be called the Battle of the Nuclear Power, and that King George had created a new decoration, the Order of the Green Banner, which he had conferred upon himself. In the general rejoicings the unfortunate affair of the banknotes was forgotten. It was a few days later than this that the Neo-Con pigs came upon a case of whisky in the cellars of the farmhouse. It had been overlooked at the time when the house was first occupied. That night there came from the farmhouse the sound of loud singing, in which, to everyone's surprise, the strains of Beasts of Empire were mixed up. At about half past nine King George, wearing an old bowler hat of Lord Rottenchilds, was distinctly seen to emerge from the back door, gallop rapidly round the yard, and disappear indoors again. But in the morning a deep silence hung over the farmhouse. Not a Neo-Con appeared to be stirring. It was nearly nine o'clock when Wolfowizz made his appearance, walking slowly and dejectedly, his eyes dull, his tail hanging limply behind him, and with every appearance of being seriously ill. He called the Herds together and told them that he had a terrible piece of news to impart. King George was dying! A cry of lamentation went up. Straw was laid down outside the doors of the farmhouse, and the Herds walked on tiptoe. With tears in their eyes they asked one another what they should do if their Leader were taken away from them. A rumour went round that Klinton had after all contrived to introduce poison into King George's food. At eleven o'clock Wolfowizz came out to make another announcement. As his last act upon earth, Herde King George had pronounced a solemn decree: the drinking of alcohol was to be punished by death. By the evening, however, King George appeared to be somewhat better, and the following morning Wolfowizz was able to tell them that he was well on the way to recovery. By the evening of that day King George was back at work, and on the next day it was learned that he had instructed Wimpie to purchase in Willingdon some booklets on brewing and distilling. A week later King George gave orders that the small paddock beyond the orchard, which it had previously been intended to set aside as a grazing-ground for Herds who were past work, was to be ploughed up. It was given out that the pasture was exhausted and needed re-seeding; but it soon became known that King George intended to sow it with barley. About this time there occurred a strange incident which hardly anyone was able to understand. One night at about twelve o'clock there was a loud crash in the yard, and the Herdsmen rushed out of their stalls. It was a moonlit night. At the foot of the end wall of the big barn, where the Seven Commandments were written, there lay a ladder broken in two pieces. Wolfowizz, temporarily stunned, was sprawling beside it, and near at hand there lay a lantern, a paint-brush, and an overturned pot of white paint. The Rovers immediately made a ring round Wolfowizz, and escorted him back to the farmhouse as soon as he was able to walk. None of the Herdsmen could form any idea as to what this meant, except old Kennyday, who nodded his muzzle with a knowing air, and seemed to understand, but would say nothing. But a few days later Muriel, reading over the Seven ComMandments to herself, noticed that there was yet another of them which the Herdsmen had remembered wrong. They had thought the Fifth ComMandment was "No Herdsmen shall drink alcohol," but there were two words that they had forgotten. Actually the Commandment read: "No Herdsman shall drink alcohol to excess." (Comment on this)