Arrse under attack?

#1
The Pentagon is setting up a new unit to ensure that the correct message is going out on the internet and on 24 hour news services.

Does this mean that we shall soon be seeing a new breed of Arrser who corrects "inaccurate" analysis and "corrects the record".

Call me Winston Smith!

Appologies to those neo-cons alreadys posting on this site. You are on message and don't need to be concerned.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/6100906.stm

Quotes taken out of context in true journalistic style.

PB
 
#3
PassingBells said:
The Pentagon is setting up a new unit to ensure that the correct message is going out on the internet and on 24 hour news services.
I notice they steer well clear of words like TRUTH or FACT.
 

AlienFTM

MIA
Book Reviewer
#4
mistersoft said:
PassingBells said:
The Pentagon is setting up a new unit to ensure that the correct message is going out on the internet and on 24 hour news services.
I notice they steer well clear of words like TRUTH or FACT.
Nail, head: meet.
 
#5
Didn't you know? The Information War is the Final Frontier. Or perhaps that was Final Solution, I get confused.
 
#6
After the fruitloop posted my number on here the other night, I am getting lots of lovely texts from someone claiming to be someone they clearly are not. I have informed the person involved and if you are watching Jeannie, I have told the police, and you should expect a call, or a knock on your door very shortly.

Yours, Sluggy x

Arrse under attack? Her Arrse or mine?
 
#7
We all better start singing "Oh, What a Lovely War," then.
That might alay their suspicions.
 
#8
Found it, with apologies to George Orwell:

A shrill trumpet-call had pierced the air. It was the bulletin! Victory! It always meant victory when a trumpet-call preceded the news. A sort of electric drill ran through the cafe. Even the waiters had started and pricked up their ears.

The trumpet-call had let loose an enormous volume of noise. Already an excited voice was gabbling from the telescreen, but even as it started it was almost drowned by a roar of cheering from outside. The news had run round the streets like magic... Fragments of triumphant phrases pushed themselves through the din: 'Vast strategic manoeuvre -- perfect co-ordination -- utter rout -- half a million prisoners -- complete demoralization -- control of the whole of Africa -- bring the war within measurable distance of its end victory -- greatest victory in human history -- victory, victory, victory!'

Under the table Winston's feet made convulsive movements. He had not stirred from his seat, but in his mind he was running, swiftly running, he was with the crowds outside, cheering himself deaf. He looked up again at the portrait of Big Brother. The colossus that bestrode the world! The rock against which the hordes of Asia dashed themselves in vain! He thought how ten minutes ago -- yes, only ten minutes -- there had still been equivocation in his heart as he wondered whether the news from the front would be of victory or defeat. Ah, it was more than a Eurasian army that had perished! Much had changed in him since that first day in the Ministry of Love, but the final, indispensable, healing change had never happened, until this moment.

The voice from the telescreen was still pouring forth its tale of prisoners and booty and slaughter, but the shouting outside had died down a little. The waiters were turning back to their work. One of them approached with the gin bottle. Winston, sitting in a blissful dream, paid no attention as his glass was filled up...

He gazed up at the enormous face. Forty years it had taken him to learn what kind of smile was hidden beneath the dark moustache. O cruel, needless misunderstanding! O stubborn, self-willed exile from the loving breast! Two gin-scented tears trickled down the sides of his nose. But it was all right, everything was all right, the struggle was finished. He had won the victory over himself. He loved Big Brother.
Prescient, or should I fetch a new roll of tin foil?

PB
 
#10
Its already here.
We are at permanent war against an abstract noun.
 
#11
I'm just reading "State of Denial" the story of the post-war Jay Garner and Paul Bremner period.

Anyone who dares to adopt a contrary position to Rumsfeld comitts an immediate carrer foul and becomes an " enemy of the state".

some frightening insights into the true workings of "Team America"

<< except in Syria where apparently "Cartman " does the voiceover for our Don :wink: >>

if there is hope it lies in the proles.......
 
#12
Dale the snail said:
After the fruitloop posted my number on here the other night, I am getting lots of lovely texts from someone claiming to be someone they clearly are not.
Can you post it again? I fancy a quick stalk but i'm probably too late to catch the snail.
 
#16
frenchperson said:
SLRboy said:
Its already here.
We are at permanent war against an abstract noun.



...on a false pretext
. . . so Parliament decided there's no need to have an inquiry into it.
Ever.
That was nice. 8)

PassingBells said:
FP, you don't work for the US government do you?
If he does, he's got the same boss as every Brit soldier in IRQ :x
 
#17
Actually, I think it was quite unseemly of us to demand an inquiry into the urgent matter of British people fighting and dying in a present highly controversial war.
As we can see by the poppy he is wearing he would rather be left to piously contemplate the now uncontroversial dead.
 
#18
passingbells,
if you must insist on poems at fifty paces:

LETTER FROM THE FRONT.

Dear Sister,

Today we have been killing men
Yesterday we were killing men
And the day before that
We killed men also.

Today we have been killing men
And tomorrow we will kill men
And the day after that we will kill
More men

And we will continue to kill men
Until the men we are killing

Kill us.

I remain, your ever loving brother,
Soldier No. ---------------
 
#19
PassingBells said:
Found it, with apologies to George Orwell:

A shrill trumpet-call had pierced the air.....

He loved Big Brother.
Prescient, or should I fetch a new roll of tin foil?

PB
Thanks, PB, for reminding me of one of my favourite books, and for reminding me that I haven't read it for a few years. I wonder if Litotes jnr, age 8, is ready for it?

I still cannot see a 42 inch plasma without thinking of 1984's telescreens. Will I ever buy one? Will I ever connect it to the Internet? And how much tinfoil would I need if I ever did so?

Litotes
 
#20
Terror - is war waged by the poor
War - is terror waged by the rich.
 

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