Cyber War 2016 The Year Politics Caught Up

Cyber War 2016 The Year Politics Caught Up ©

By Michael Casey

Well we just had a pollution explosion in the living room so I’ve opened the window and am hiding in the other room. This will be my last piece of 2016, I wasn’t expecting to write any more today but here is the last piece of 2016, as I recover. Now to me or anybody who watches any science fiction it really is bleeding obvious that technology is the way forward. So if you attack your enemy’s sewage plants for example then not only does it cause a very big stink it also bring disease to your enemy.

And you can see but not smell the reason this came to mind, add electricity and gas to the mix and folks are on their knees. Its a bit of a laugh for an hour or two, you just go to bed. Then in 9 months there may be a baby boom, but if the disruption is longer than a night of passion then you have problems, big problems. You can add traffic lights and air traffic control too, then hey presto an advanced civilisation is at the same level as a 3^rd world county.

I wrote a piece about this somewhere in the last 900 stories, so if you find it you’ll have read about Bruce Willis in his films. The USA 2016 Election was a mess, without all the hacking. A weak candidate thought women would vote for her because she had a vagina , I’m paraphrasing Susan Sarendon here. The hacks revealed that the Democratic Party did not want a cranky old Jewish guy as the candidate so they colluded to give it to Hillary. That basically is the truth of it, even though the younger Hippier base of the party did want the old Jewish guy. Because he sounded like an old uncle who loved them.

Now if it wasn’t Hillary’s turn then nothing would have happened. Instead we had the daily drip drip drip of news. All because somebody should have said this is FAKE, instead of confusing legit and illegitimate, when asked about an email from gmail. IF the person said this is FAKE, then Pedesta would not have changed his password which led to an open door for the hacker.

Personally I wanted Bloomberg to be a White Knight candidate and save USA from itself, sadly he did not run. On the other side everybody in the Republican Party was playing by the Marquis of Queensbury Rules, all except Donald Trump. That in itself will be a book and a half Dr Tim Stanley who writes for the Daily Telegraph is no doubt writing it right now, if not I suggest you get him to do so. You should have had a Lenny Bruce attitude to Donald Trump, then you have had a different candidate. BUT Donald did win the Electoral Vote, when folks realise you cannot turn back the tide, not even he is King Canute, then his problems will begin.

Now as for Hillary, her lax attitude to security were a millstone around her neck, and a hack just waiting to happen. She had too much baggage, she decided NOT to divorce Bill all those years ago, hopefully there was no deal then that she would run for president and he’d support her. I hope the I love Chelsea more than than I want to castrate you won.

Otherwise Machiavelli was alive and well in DC, which is very sad indeed. Though it did fail if she thought people would vote just because of her gender, I don’t need to use the V word any more.

We all use computers and we all know they go wrong and passwords should be kept a secret and you never believe anything in an email from any stray source. IF Pedesca’s team were fooled by a basic email con then frankly I would not want them to be in charge of my allotment never mind the country.

Now its obvious Trump will deny the Russians swung the election for him, but he can’t contradict all 17 intelligence agencies. In the end it will come back and bite him on the bum.

So he needs to stop being a wise guy and be humble. The wisest part of his new job is knowing how to listen. Listen to everybody even the janitor, and then when you have every piece of information you act fast and decisively. So Help You God.

That’s it really, protect infrastructure, bury it physically and electronically, it should not be protected by just one firewall. In Colditz the hardest Nazi prison there was a big secure gate, with security galore, and right besides it as little unused garden gate. So which gate did one enterprising British prisoner use? Think outside the box Donald, how may clubs in your golf bag? Use them all and even switch hands and change golfing glove, then you will be a wise and wonderful President, who deserves the title, it wasn’t just your turn, you proved yourself.  

Discovering Music

Discovering Music (c)
By Michael Casey

I entered a random search on Spotify, Pio, and I'm amazed by what I'm hearing. First was The Maccabees and Marks to Prove It, now I'm listening to Interpol and Our Love to Admire, both are really excellent. I won't go down the track list grooving away as I listen to  each song. It just proves new  things can be discovered, even by random means. And why did I enter Pio? Well because I was thinking about Padre Pio, I'm in a lot of pain this morning so I thought I could emphasise with him.

There's a peaceful piano piece playing now, and it's not from my neighbour next door, nor have my daughters decided to play the piano beside me, so I've stumbled my way into something nice, and if you remembered the story yesterday, Mark Harris said I was a good stumbler. If I mention his name ever again in a story then you'll all have to buy him free Stella Artois for life, but don't forget the Walkers cheese and onion crisps, he does have standards after all, unlike me, what you see is what you get.

So why is music is so special? I am tempted to share the obvious joke about the Jewish drummer being so good at the rhythm method being made an honorary catholic. But you can ignore that sentence if you have no Jewish nor Catholic friends, or if you have 2 left feet, or are tone deaf, or just deaf, or have no sense of humour or are too PC. Or are a Politician not knowing which way to jump.

Politicians should be good with music as they try and march to the beat of history. Led Zepplin would have been great Politicians but their fans would be too drunk to do any marching or following. The Germans in the 1930s just loved a good tune and marching, and see how that turned out.Now we have the cheese eater in North Korea and his people just love to march, but they are marching to stay alive, not for fun. Back in the West we have Trump's inauguration .

Nobody wants to sing for Trump, though Putin has offered to sing for him, he'll even roll over and let Trump rub his belly, Pavlov dog if you like, but who would be the real master? The Russian State Singers and Dancers might  . Perhaps we'll have the Russian Ballet come too, or the North Korean ensemble could come too. An international peace and reconciliation  inauguration, Trump could say it was all part of his plan.

What will the music be like? Martial, Loud and Proud, a bit like a Friday night in a gay bar, but not half as much fun, no Abba, no fun. There's a thought perhaps Abba should be asked to perform, everybody loves Abba after all. Abba for Trump's inauguration, we could start a hashtag. Though somehow I think they would not turn up. So a Tribute band will have to do, these tribute bands can be really really good. I saw the conterfeit Stones once at the Alex in Birmingham, now they were excellent.

So together we have sorted out Trump's inauguration show. It will be a series of tribute bands from Vegas, the National Mall is so big that nobody will spot the difference. As for Trump he may have a stand in for himself, he's not going to stand around in the cold, he may even stay home in NY while everything else goes on in DC. Mike Pence can catch a cold, or Donald may just play video games with Barron, then just dash out for the oath. Or he may just pay Alec Baldwin to do the whole show, 1,400 dollars is cheap  price to pay then he can have some precious time with Barron.

So I hope you will all try Pio as a Spotify search,  you could read about Padre Pio too, the music is really good, and all new to me, but best of all together we have sorted out the Music for Trump's Inauguration. See I am a really good stumbler, will somebody please buy Mark Harris a pint of Stella Artois, he's singing Abba songs again, I'm off to my Waterloo.

Which Way Shall I Go?

Which Way Shall I Go? (c)

By

Michael Casey

When we drive we follow a route, to school, to work, or to the shops, its all very straightforward. Things get more complicated when we have no plan, no destination, when we are making up are mind on the hoof. We'll follow a red car, then we'll follow a blue car, then we'll follow a bus, then we are lost,

Our lives can be like that too, a kind of improv comedy gone wrong. My own life fell over and I was down in the dirt a few times. Then you get up and start over, its better than staying in the dirt after all, and yes I'm no Ali, nor any other sporting hero, though I may weigh more than Ali did, I'm 238 to 245 pounds if you are American or 17.5stones to the rest of us, or 110kilos + if you are European. Though I look a lot lot lighter, a smile makes you lighter, try smiling in the mirror right now.

With Life it helps to have a direction, I never did myself I just kind of stumbled from this to that. As Mark Harris once said I was a good stumbler, he also said I had no intellectual stamina, I told him never to call me intellectual again and I called him something in return, if you buy Mark a pint of Stella Artois he may tell you what, this was 20 years ago. What he didn't say was that I could wipe the floor with him as far as ideas were concerned. You have ideas people and you have plods, I am an ideas person, well as far as writing goes.

So in your life you have to decide shall I follow my heart or follow safety. I just took what ever came up first, as nothing else came up. So I was a stumbler, but you can have a degree from Oxford or Cambridge and still your little brother, or the runt of the family does better financially than you. And yes I'm talking about a period in time of my own family, and yes I'm a very big runt, as Mark Harris may agree. I've not seen him I maybe 15 years now, I thought I'd mention him in a story and maybe he'd get a free pint of Stella Artois out of it, see Mark, Stats people stick together, they have too or they fall over, hic.

Opportunities knock, and you have to answer that knock, I was once offered promotion but I knew I could not do the job, so I was honest and turned it down. The person who got it later on, was kind enough to call me a burnt out has been, rather like the way Russia is talking about Obama. For his sins the guy ended up as a tramp in the street, booze and arrogance and divorce led to that future.

So be careful what you say, as for me and Obama we'll meet for a few pints of Stella Artois on our join book tour, I will of course take Obama to Aldi so he can buy 150 presents for all of his security detail. He got a Jorg Grey watch from them, perhaps he'll buy a 5quid watch in return for each of them, or maybe just a few pallets of Stella Artois, as it's on offer. The Beast must be able to fit a ton of lager in the boot.

Obama may ask for my advice on which way to go next, so I'll tell him to try and get a job as General Manager in a hotel, every day is so varied, just like being President of the USA. I'm sure he could soon get the hang of it if he tried, he'll have to wear a decent suit though. I loved my 3 years in hotels, I stumbled into it and loved it, so if Obama puts his shoulder to the wheel he'll do ok, with my advice.

I have to turn into the kitchen now, the cat is calling and my own belly too, always answer your belly or you get a headache and you makes mistakes in whatever you are doing. Ditto with the toilet, always answer the call of nature, otherwise you'll have an accident, I always do, cKd insists upon it. I'm sure if Hillary ate all her food on time and did not hold in her pee so much she'd be President now. But I've got her a nice job, she's the new crossings patrol lady outside our local primary school, she loves the job to pieces, she gets free dinners with the kids and she can use the staff toilet any time she needs it. 

The Donald and Me or am I Quackers ?

The Donald and Me or am I Quackers ? ©

By Michael Casey

I’ve reached story 910 or so, and I wondered what I should turn my attention to today. I think I’ve been hacked, nothing here but I think I have a spy on my computer, the screen saver has a photo of Donald and Barron Trump playing golf, mum is sat on the golf cart knitting a baseball cap with 45 on it. The trees can be seen walking, but it must be the secret service keeping a watchful eye on everything.

So Barron you have proved your point, is it you who just sent an advert about heart attacks? I had my quadruple bypass 2 years ago, and was it you that sent the life insurance messages too. A turkey at Christmas would get better coverage. If I knew your email I’d send you the photo of me looking like a drunken fool, by the way I did win a prize as the uncoolest dad thanks to that photo, and by the way you are not missing anything if you follow dad’s advice and never drink. I saw a lifetime of alcoholic lodgers myself, not a pretty sight. I probably drink less than 20 pints in a year, and I mean lager not antifreeze, I am not Russian.

And I imagine it was not you sending me emails for pain killers, ok I’ll shut up about it, I just saw your dad saying you were a computer whiz. Now where was I, 255 words in and I haven’t got to the point, over here in UK we had a column in Private Eye about the imaginary life of Dennis Thatcher the husband of Margaret Thatcher who was our PM. So I was thinking as your dad will dominate the news for 4 years or even 8, depending on when he gets bored, what if I wrote an imaginary column about me and the Donald. I just flinched and ducked then as I imagined the secret service shooting in my direction.

It would be a bit of fun, as close to getting drunk and having the room spin around, but without having taken any alcohol. A bit like glue sniffing I suppose, but I’ve never done that either, it can kill instantly, so never even think of doing it. So what if I started a column about The Donald and Me, I’d have to number them so people can keep up, and be on the right episode.

Would men in suits arrive at my house and make me an offer I could not refuse, would my daughter’s teddy bear be kidnapped and I’d get notes on Trump hotel notepaper advising to be careful if I cared for the teddy bear. If you like the teddy would be a hostage. Its a bit of an Irish hostage situation, a teddy bear gets to live a life of luxury while we stay here in Birmingham.

Surely being a hostage isn’t meant to be on 5^th Avenue, while we stay on our road, Moonlit Graveyard Crescent number 69, Birmingham. It would make sense if we were taken away and the teddy bear stayed home, that’s why I call it Irish. My own people are from Kerry, great golfing place, your dad will know of it for sure.

So what should I do? I’ll wait for the numbers to come in on my site and see if this taster is liked, and if it is then The Donald and Me will become a feature. Though I could have my Internet removed in the interests of national security. Have you seen any photo of me, Santa is a bigger threat than my words. Though if ever the Donald does get to Kerry, can I have a lift to visit my relatives, all I need to do is borrow a SUV and one driver. I’ll feed and pay the driver the same amount your dad gets for being President, is one dollar too much? 

Snow Limits

 Snow Limits ©

By Michael Casey

I’ve just watched a cartoon on the tv about The Snowman’s parents life. We have all seen the animation The Snowman, Walking in the Air being the music that goes with it. I had not intended watching it but I was overruled by the wife, Harry Potter film was recorded and not watched. I’m glad we watched the animation about Raymond Brigg’s parents Ethel and Ernest, it was very well made and reminded me of my own parents.

My dad came to England in 1944 and spent the end of the war fire watching and working in a steel works. Having a few beers was also in order, one of his friends was placed on a bench in Victoria Park Smethwick to sober up, and it was there that dad came tumbling off his bicycle, and got shouted at in the blackout by a policeman.

So watching the Raymond Briggs animation mirrored my dad’s life and brought back many memories. We had an air raid shelter too, Anderson shelter to  give it its full name. Ours was full of rainwater and stunk. My brother tricked me into going inside via a plank, and once I was on an inside on a ledge at the back he withdrew the plank and I was forced to wade through stinking black water to make my escape. So I have stinking memories of that air raid shelter.

In the Summer the metal of the air raid shelter heated up and was a favourite place for cats to sun bathe and for my sister to sit and read, this would be back in the late 1960s. Then dad decided to dig the air raid shelter up. I remember that my brother who had trapped me inside was tasked with digging it up. This is harder than you imagined as it had concrete foundations a few inches thick, maybe 6 inches. Finally when the task was done the shelter was moved to the family garden and re-bolted back together.

All these memories came back because of the cartoon I saw a few minutes ago.We also had a garden shed made from an air raid shelter, so when we had a new big wooded garden shed the old shed was dismantled and placed in the other garden where our lodging house was.  A bit like musical Anderson Shelters, no bombs falling.

Then our lodger decided to put a central floor inside his, so it became posh. I was close to the lodger he was like an extra uncle to me, so I copied him and laid a full floor in the original dug up air raid shelter which was now at the bottom of the family garden. I started by the fence which formed a wall to the side of the shelter. And moved towards the door. By pure chance this gave a camphor to the floor, I also ended covered in filth, the blue bricks were all neatly laid as I had dug the soil up to slot them into position. I suppose those bricks may be quite expensive now as they are 100 plus years old now.

The cartoon tonight showed the old style bread bins, I have ours under our kitchen sink it must be over 60 years old now. There was also a mangle for squeezing the water out of the washing, but you have to separate the rollers when all the washing is done or they stick like glue together. Mum forgot once and when dad was finally able to force the rollers open, and dad was as strong as an Ox, there was a bite left in one of the rollers.

So as you can can imagine many many memories came flooding back tonight, even the fact that his dad was a milkman. An old school friend whom I used to play rugby with in 1970s, because we were a grammar school, his dad was a milkman, and Benny Hill had a number one hit with Ernie, the Fastest Milkman in the West.

It was also mentioned about how special it was to go to grammar school. I can tell you something about grammar schools and Inner Cities. In my family 4 of us went to Grammar school, then 2 of my brothers went to Oxford and Cambridge. Our neighbour 4 doors up, 2 of his went to Grammar school, and then both went to Oxford, he was a mad labour bus driver.  A third child was sent to Elocution lessons.

Further up the same road we had a PhD in mathematics. And around the corner, the son of a nurse and a crane driver was a PhD and his daughter is a medical Doctor. What did all of us have in common, we all went to Mass at Saint Patrick’s and the boys were all altar servers there. So I don’t believe your environment dictates what you are. Hard work and love dictated what you can be.

I would love for my book The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker to be cartoonised or on the radio, or to be honest just for any of you to read its 600 pages. Perhaps you have to be famous first before that happens, it does start slowly after all and Americans especially love fast things, like food, cars, bucks and women. However they did like Lord of the Rings and if any of you need reminding, I am a Birmingham writer too.