Ian O'Doherty: Well, ain't that just charming
Published 20/12/2012 | 06:00
Ah, the opportunists and bandwagon jumpers are out in force after the tragic Connecticut school massacre, aren't they?
The gun-control lobby see this as an opportunity to bring in a ban on firearms (ain't gonna happen) while the NRA and their cohorts are saying that if everyone was armed then a teacher could have shot Adam Lanza before he killed all the kids.
That's an idea that makes sense for about . . . oh, two seconds until you contemplate the vista of every American packing heat. The results, I imagine, would not be pretty.
Now American comedian turned mad conservative, Victoria Jackson, has brought the debate to new depths – by bringing abortion into it.
She retweeted a message which said the deaths of those kids was nothing compared to the number of foetuses destroyed in abortion.
Then, commenting on Obama's speech, she noticed that: "He shed a tear. How many tears did you shed for the million babies aborted last year, Obama?"
Seriously, when you start using the mass murder of five-year-olds to score a point on abortion, you've just lost the argument.
And your right to call yourself a human being.
But that's what Facebook is for!!
I see Fine Gael TD Tom Barry is the latest social media user to fall foul of the trolls.
He was shocked when he went on to his Facebook page (or wall or whatever the hell you call it) to see messages saying: "I'm going to kill you. I'm going to murder you."
Another one urged him to get a rope and hang himself. And with the current spate of suicides, that was a particularly lovely sentiment.
Barry says he has now gone to the police and expressed how shocked he was.
Ah, Tom, Tom, Tom.
Don't you realise that things like Facebook exist purely to afford anonymous cowards like this one the opportunity to cause upset and distress to those who are better than they are?
What's the bets the person is some spotty teenager sitting in their bedroom sending threats to everyone they can think of?
Um, I don't think so
There's a part of me which knows that I should feel a degree of sympathy for Lindsay Lohan (pictured).
But . . . I'm sorry, she is just such a feckless, irresponsible pain in the arse that I just can't muster much.
Even Charlie Sheen feels like that. He sent her more than a hundred grand a while ago to help with her tax bill and said on Monday: "It would be nice to get a thank you."
She lurches from one self-inflicted crisis to the next, constantly pointing the finger at everyone but herself and, to be honest, she only need look in the mirror to see who is at fault.
Now, in an effort to help alleviate her bills she has come up with a wizard idea – she is going to hire herself out as a professional party guest.
Yup, if you have a few grand knocking around and you're having a 21st for your kid, all you have to do is ring Lindsay and she'll turn up and pretend to like the person.
There's just one problem with this – would you let Lindsay Lohan into your house?
Frankly, given her reputation, I'd imagine people would be more likely to pay her to stay away.
In defence of Ming?
One of Luke Flanagan's acolyte's recently got in touch to object to what has been written about him.
Flanagan, it appears, isn't the scruffy, cynical eejit that I portray him as but is, instead: "a visionary . . . a man of the people . . . someone who speaks the truth, unlike you."
Fair enough, each to their own and all that.
But the cherry on the top came with the support of Flanagan's stance on drugs and said that if more people did drugs the world would be a safer place.
Sure. Just look at northern Mexico.
That's a right paradise at the moment, isn't it?
Okay people – any tips?
So, there I am. It's 5am and I'm wandering aimlessly downstairs. There's only so much cable news any man can take and I'm knackered. But I still can't sleep.
Insomnia has once again paid an unwelcome visit.
I go back to bed and lie there, tossing and turning and becoming increasingly frustrated.
Eventually, I find myself comfortable and begin to drift off. Ah, bliss. And then the sodding alarm goes off. I'm going to be a zombie for the rest of the day. Again.
So, gentle reader, 'tis the season of giving so if anyone could give me a clue for natural sleep remedy (not a chemical one, I've enough on my plate without developing an addiction to sleeping tablets) I would sure appreciate it.
I mentioned this in the column a few years back and I did get one very interesting suggestion that could help.
That was nice.
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