Sunday, 9 December 2018

How they brought the fake news from There to Air


If you're familiar with Robert Browning's poem about 'me' and Dirck and Joris bringing the good news from Ghent to Aix, you might appreciate this version. No animals were harmed in the writing of this poem, unlike Browning's poor Roland who expired upon reaching his goal despite a last measure of wine. You might need a slurp or two of Riesling Spätlese to help you get to the end of this one. Enjoy! 


How they brought the fake news from There to Air


He opened the email, did Higgins, you see;
he read it, he copied, he pasted did he.
“Okay!” said the wretch, as his conscience withdrew.
“Voila!” cried the Spooks at their fake news crew,
“you'll do for our stooge. Put it out; there's a chap!”
And so, via Twitter, he published their crap.

No hint of the bashful, he posted their lies.
Cut 'n' paste, tweet by tweet; never thought it unwise.
He turn'd on a laptop, and click'd on an app,
he cropped out some JPEGs, and googled a map,
then worked on some pictures, each pixel a bit,
to make a clear truck and a blurry BUK fit.

He'd have us believe that a cylinder bomb
was dropped through a roof with momentous aplomb,
to land on a bed with composure enough
to survive intact. Well, it's convincing stuff!
It's “highly likely” and believe it you must,
'cause Bellingcrap said it; in 'iggins we trust!

If you geolocate his bureau; it's near...
A seller of smalls is now expert we hear,
in forensic research and new open-source.
It's the state-of-the-art in bullshit he'd force
on your mind if naïve or credibly thick.
Beware the Mountebank; a YouTube-ing prick!

Praised by the media, he's a bulwark against
the Russians, the Syrians... Disinfo dispensed
by trolls and by bots, whether people or not.
If argued against, he'll dismiss as a plot
your reasoned objections and (yawn!) like a bum,
respond with a tweet to say: “Moisten my scrotum!”

He works in reverse, to make stuff fit the facts.
He surfs on the net; puts out cheap, flashy tracts.
“Here's the answer we want, now go find the clues,”
say Spooks and their Goons as they hand out their cues.
And nobs from the press lick his boots (not his balls),
ignoring the fact that he knows... phuq all!

Just give him a list of some names and at least
he'll prove them in league with some guys from the east.
Like Pleasence as Blythe, in The Great Escape,
he'll knock up a permit (with Photoshop Express).
See the stamp on the licence doesn't quite fit,
with date redacted; so it's counterfeit shit.

He offers to train in his simple techniques
of searching with Google (the course takes some weeks).
You'll learn of date ranges and searching in quotes;
the things we'd forgotten, before Evernote.
And you might be amazed to learn that there's maps
that give you some views of some streets, and some snaps.

A Council Fellow who's on Twitter and lies
'bout funding by NED, and he tries, oh he tries,
to act like he's smart, but he's thick, so he's not.
What knowledge he had of some things he's forgot.
Of Eliot's views, no we shouldn't much care.
It's more than he's due, who brought fake news to Air.

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