Good news for men is rare in this hateful feminist utopia that is Norway, but today is a joyous day! Today I feel schadenfreude in my heart along with all the hate that feminism and resultant mate deprivation have instilled in me. One blue thug less on the streets. One less feminist enforcer. And as this story so beautifully illustrates, the pigs enforce psychiatry as well. This hero's knife attack on Kildal can only be characterized as self-defense. Forcible psychiatric "treatment" is fundamentally wrong and of course anyone subjected to it has the moral right to defend himself with deadly force.
Update: It has come to light that Kildal apparently broke into the victim's home without the requisite warrants. So it wasn't just morally wrong and based on laws I disagree with; it was probably illegal, too, and defending oneself from such abuses of power is justified in every way. Killdal wasn't just doing his job. He was a criminal thug who got his just deserts.
Dead swine now burning in hell.
Hvis dette er ment ironisk eller sarkastisk på noe som helst vis: Du går over kanten, selv om det er slik det er politisk korrekt å være hvis man pakker det inn litt.
Hvis det derimot ikke er ironi, håper jeg du blir offer for en av de du kategoriserer som "helter".
Hør hør! Denne bloggen liker jeg.
Kildal ble sløyd i hjel fordi han forsøkte å gjøre ulovlig innbrudd hos en person som ikke tillater slikt. Kildal fikk som fortjent!
"Just deserts"? So, the guy is getting a lot of sand? Did you happen to mean "desserts"?
No, "just deserts" is correct. Michael Quinion recently addressed this confusion in Issue 688 of World Wide Words (http://www.worldwidewords.org), which is a newsletter I higly recommend:
I didn't make a mistake, but the confusion between the two forms is now so widespread that it's hard to be sure which one is right. The evidence of the Oxford corpus of recent English is that "just desserts" is now more common than "just deserts" (60% against 40%), suggesting it may one day become the standard form. Even my Sunday newspaper, the Observer, had it in a headline on 11 April: "Perhaps the parties will get their just desserts". It wasn't suggesting they might be served with apple pie or Black Forest gateau. The muddle isn't helped by the bakery chains and authors of cookery books who think "just desserts" is a deliciously punning title.
The problem is that there are three nouns involved (and a verb as well, though that's less of an issue), two of them spelled with just one "s" in the middle and the third with two. It's fatally easy to get them mixed up.
We have no problem with "desert" when we mean the dry, barren area or with "dessert" when we refer to the sweet course of a meal. The former is from Latin "desertus", abandoned, deserted or left waste; in turn it's from the verb "deserere", to abandon, which is the source also of the verb. The latter is from French "desservir", to remove what has been served or to clear the table - the dessert course was usually laid out in another room to give the servants free rein to clear the table after the main course. It's the third word - the "desert" in "just deserts" - that causes the trouble, as it's spelled like the barren desert but said like the sweet course. This "desert" is from another Old French verb that means "deserve".
The confusion between "just deserts" and "just desserts" is mainly one of pronunciation. We don't confuse the barren desert with the other two words because it's stressed on the first syllable, while the others are stressed on the second
It's because the "deserts" in "just deserts" is said the same way as the foodstuff "desserts" that leaves us puzzled how to spell the former. If you need a memory aid, remember the sentence "Deserts are what one deserves". "Deserve" and "desert" both have one "s" and are both stressed on the second syllable. So it's "just deserts".
I hope you die, screaming.
You need help, sincerely. I beg of you to go talk to someone. This rage that you have inside of you is eating you alive, and you will end up hurting someone or yourself.
You don't have to see a psychiatrist. Maybe a priest? Call a helpline anonymously? Anything. Please.
To illustrate the nature of the thugs, I am going to publish this message I received on Facebook from a cop:
Tage Gaupseth 3. mai 2010 kl. 09:43
Subject: Hei du
Jeg har lest bloggen din og hva du skriver om en drept kollega av meg.
Anmoder deg om å fjerne det. Vanligvis greier ikke slike stygge misfoster som deg å provosere meg, men akkurat deg kjente jeg at jeg fikk lyst å smelle inn trynet på.
Forøvrig håper jeg du blir offer for en av de du kaller for helter.
Can you translate that?
The pig Tage Gaupseth says: "I have read your blog and what you write about a killed colleague of mine. I request that you remove it. Usually such ugly freaks as you don't manage to provoke me, but just you I felt I wanted to smash in the face of. Bastard."
The hatred is mutual, to say the least, and we'll see about whose face gets crushed. The swine has correctly identified me as far more malicious and dangerous than the criminals they deal with on a regular basis.
I forgot to translate one sentence...
"Forøvrig håper jeg du blir offer for en av de du kaller for helter."
"And by the way I hope you become a victim of one of those you call heroes."
This is deceptive. In fact, only 6% of involuntarily committed psychiatric patients are deemed dangerous: http://www.forskning.no/artikler/2008/juni/186711
Eivind Berge said...
His female porcine partner meanwhile got scared and ran away,
I had thought lady cops were tough, independent women who you didn't want to mess with. I stand corrected.
leaving Kildal to bleed to death by the time the thugs returned with plenty of reinforcements, riot gear, automatic weapons, and tear gas but nonetheless took all night, until 6 in the morning to capture this hero of the people (whose name the newspapers won't mention, so all we know is he is 62 years old).
What a bunch of cowards they were. It reminds me of the Columbine massacre, where the SWAT team waited for Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris to run out of bullets.
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