Michael Coren’s Original Aesthete’s Diary, Dec. 10, 2015.

Friday, Oct. 25, Ottawa
It appears from the British newspapers that the city of London is about to unveil a statue in honour of Air Marshall “Bomber” Harris, and that the Germans are slightly peeved at this. Uncle Jumbo, as I used to refer to the air marshall when he bounced me on his knee, was the officer in charge of the British bomber offensive on Germany, which virtually expunged Dresden from the face of the earth.

Well done, sir!

Now that the bloodthirsty Krauts have temporarily thrown off the yoke of totalitarianism, they insist on weeping on everybody’s shoulder, and wish to be treated just like any other democratic nation. Not likely. They are a disgusting people who feel the need every generation or so to invade a neighbor and disembowel its young. Dresden was a noble victory, and if I were the chap who owned the European Community, I would have every newborn Hun tattooed with the words Dresden O.K., on his or her upper arm.

But there is more than this to the story. Most of the Germans I have spoken to actually enjoyed the bombing, and still tell wonderful and sanguine jokes about the Thousand Bomber Raid. I admire this spirit, which is eminently superior to that of the appalling Japs and their interminable moans about one little trip over Hiroshima. I am bombed, therefore I am, as old Sartre used to say.

Wednesday, December 4, Toronto
I, for one, applaud the reintroduction of the rape shield law, and, I may now reveal, pulled one or two political strings behind the scenes for my sisters in the women’s movement. Some misogynistic cynics claim that even if an accusing woman has been a whore for twenty years, has had intercourse with the accused man a score of times, is embittered and unbalanced because their relationship has been terminated and has in the past filed a plethora of fraudulent rape charges, the wretched defendant will not be allowed to make any sort of plausible defence in court and will thus be at the volatile mercy of a menstruating harridan and a cretinous, credulous jury. Mere chauvinistic moaning.

It should be obvious to everyone today that rape need not involve any physical contact. The Ontario Women’s Directorate is currently forming an Onanist Observer Corps to electronically and psychically monitor the subject matter of every male masturbatory fantasy in the province. If the mental image involves oppression of a female, penetration without first receiving a signed letter of agreement from the woman, or any abuse scenario, the male is liable to a fine of $15,000 and/or a term of incarceration of up to three years.

It is marvelous to see the camaraderie and bonhomie of these valiant lassies at Queen’s Park. They have already abandoned their somewhat pedantic official title, and refer to themselves in familiar and familial tones as the Wanker Watchers. Behind this courageous front there is, of course, an ocean of tears. No man can really comprehend what it is actually like for a woman to be thus treated, thus used. Mental lust is a crime. I pause, and say a silent prayer of hope, faith and support for the girls of the corps. Whoops, must remember not to let my mind wander onto subjects carnal.


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