Boris Bashing

Over the weekend a conversation at work was had regarding the Batley situation as, once again, the nation of islam, by not denouncing the cavemen protesters, tacitly stands behind them. A colleague said “You can’t blame muslims; that’s ridiculous and wrong. Christians in the USA are just as bad.” Fair enough I replied, I hereby denounce all Christians demanding the beheading of non-believers. Then knowing said colleague is a former card-carrying communist and long-time hard left Labour supporter I asked where he stood on the Jews.

“That’s completely different” he opined, “It is well known that the Zionists control world trade and banking and oppress the people of Palestine.” And there we have it; this is at the heart of many of our problems in public discourse. Too few take the time or have the mental capacity to examine whether some of the qualities of those they hate so much are actually of any merit. Thus, if you hate Boris Johnson, nothing – not one thing – the man does will elicit anything other than opprobrium from you.

I don’t know Boris Johnson personally, but, in common with many, I have in the past, found him a shallow, ego-driven, faux-eccentric, manufactured, buffoon-like figure, who periodically bloats into to a balloon-like figure of foppish mediocrity. There; for the avoidance of doubt, like many who have never met him, I imagine he is not my kind of guy. Yet I can’t help but recognise that were this entirely true he wouldn’t be where he is today. I can appreciate how he lights up a room in a way that most people who seek public approval never do. I mean, take Ed Davey… no, really.

I doubt that Boris and I would get on, but whatever my personal impression of the man I simply cannot countenance the ludicrous portrayal of him as some sort of Machiavellian overlord. I was blocked on Twitter yesterday by somebody expressing their considered opinion that by heading up the government which has recently extended the coronavirus legislation, with the democratic approval of almost the entire House of Commons, he was ushering in a dictatorship. Dictator? I checked: “…a political leader who possesses absolute power.” Hmm…

While not a fan of personality cults, I feel bound to point out that few world leaders and even fewer dictators are routinely and almost fondly referred to by their first name. Boris. Hardly a stand-out British name is it? And yet there he is, a duly elected Prime Minister about whom everybody has an opinion, few of them flattering, who seems more concerned that people should like him than that they should fall on their knees before him. For a dictator he’s not doing an awful lot of quality despoting, is he?

Dictator? Oh, come on!

But there they are, the detractors; the anti-lockdown, anti-mask, generally anti-Tory brigade, and they do rather go in for a spot of hyperbole. But where does that get us? I mean if Boris is ‘Literally Hitler’, as somebody actually tweeted yesterday, where do we put Jeremy Corbyn – literally Mao? And as for Keir Starmer, why, he makes Corbyn look positively charismatic. Perhaps we should insist all future PMs have the presence of, say Herman Van Rompuy. Who, you ask? Exactly.

White Riot

You can’t switch on the telly, tune in the radio or click on a link today without being assailed by race. Colour colours every discussion, fuels every debate and informs every decision made by governments, corporations and media. In an effort to counter white bias – they tell themselves – it is necessary to inject as much non-white bias as possible, to the extent that every TV family is now mixed race, every voiceover is palpably non-native and every white commentator feels obliged to display his self-reviling inclinations.

And gathering pace in the UK, as it has been in the USA is the spread of fear over the rise of white supremacy. It is everywhere… yet where are they, these supreme white beings, these Klansmen, these insufferable racists? Where are the violent demonstrations for white power, where are the burning crosses, the assaults on mosques? Where are the lynch mobs and the strange fruit?

Because while I don’t see them and you don’t see them, according to the media they are everywhere. On the drive into work this morning, I listened to a World Service programme dedicated to the issue, and in the news a spate of killings of sex-workers in Atlanta by a self-confessed ‘sex addict’ (another made-up syndrome to excuse bad behaviour) was driving people insane because the motive had not been attributed to racism, as surely it must, given that these women were of an Asian background.

Black on black violence is just violence and it must be excused because these poor people have no alternative but to turn on each other, because, Whitey. Female genital mutilation, despite never being practised  by white nations, is Whitey’s fault, even as (in Kenya) some lawyers are arguing that the practice is a fundamental human right. Whites patronising black-owned business is a form of cultural appropriation, in a way that using electricity, transport, computers, etc, is somehow not. And don’t you dare talk about Pakistani muslim grooming gangs.

It all smacks of the old marital lament: “What’s hers is hers and what’s mine is ours.” This pick and choose approach to race relations is harmful, divisive and only ever goes in one direction. The soft bigotry of low expectations helpfully excuses every failing by individuals or entire communities to live by the codes of the host society; and the hard bigotry of critical race theory blames every failing on people who have little sense of any superiority.

In fact, if anything, it is white fear we should be addressing. It may be ignorant to blame your lack of a job on immigrants, but why has that perception been allowed to develop and what has, been done to counter it other than to pour on more blame a guilt? It may be true that white boys do poorly at school, but this never used to be the case, so what has happened in the last half a century to bring this about? And what kind of reaction do you expect when organisations like our national broadcaster openly announce that ‘whites need not apply’?

One of the fervid beliefs of the leaders of the Black Lives Matter movement is that of black supremacy. They preach the nobility of black skin, as if skin colour is the fundamental attribute to be judged by. They espouse the superiority of black culture, yet have departed in droves from the seats of those same cultures, to live in lands where they seem determined to be despised. But hey, if race is such an issue and if, as they insist, one drop of black blood can have so much influence over life outcomes, and culture is everything, did anybody stop to think that maybe Lewis Hamilton’s culturally unusual – nay, unique - supremacy in Formula 1 might actually be down to his white heritage?

China Syndrome

There really is no way to avoid the conclusion that the cost of ‘saving the planet’ is going to be too high a price for many to pay. For every renewable source of energy there is an enormous up-front investment required, often obscured from those of us, the consumers, who foot the bill regardless. I don’t think I have ever seen a reliable total figure for the erection of a wind turbine, for instance, and solar PV rarely returns what it costs on a smaller scale.

And when it comes to it, that’s really all there is, wind and solar. Biomass is a biomassive accounting scam, said to be carbon-neutral but actually incentivising a massive increase in carbon footprint. By shipping the raw material across oceans, from where it has often been grown in the devastation created by deforestation it amounts to environmental vandalism. But what about tidal power, you may counter? I am unaware of any working tidal generators of sufficient scale to contribute but a drop in the plastic-filled oceans.

As for carbon trading, this merely creates a market in soothing first world sensitivities by moving the unsightly out of sight. Offsetting emissions by paying landowners to plant trees rather than grazing livestock is mere smoke and mirrors, especially when thawing permafrost is said to be releasing trapped carbon at an alarming rate. Carbon trading is much like sending our plastic waste to Malaysia where they tip it into the sea; it simply moves the problem out of sight.

And what is to be made of yesterday’s announcement that subsidies for electric cars are being cut, from £3000 to £2500?  The fact that subsidies were required in the first place reflects the high price that early adopters were having to pay. The subsidy previously applied to cars up to £50k and now only applies up to £35k. And that is a reduction from a year ago when £3.5k was available for all electric cars without a limit to their cost.

That is already twice what I have ever paid for a car, including the odd occasion I bought new. But cutting it is an easy argument to make because anybody who can afford up to £100k for a car of whatever stripe doesn’t need a 3.5% bung as an incentive for their virtue signalling – they were going to parade both their affluence and their paid-for Green credentials in your face regardless. Green, it turns out, is for the few, not the many.

So, what of the developing world which is supposed to magically come into the twenty-first century without the several hundreds of years of societal evolution necessary to inculcate a culture of modernity (see most islamic countries for reference). We have been conducting such an experiment in the west, importing alien cultures in the name of diversity, under the happy delusion that we will all rub along together under western rules. It just doesn’t’ work, does it?

China, it appears, has the answer. It is going to fuel the Green Revolution with fossil fuel. Lovely, cheap, energy dense coal and oil and gas will keep the wheels of their manufacturing industries turning, achieving economies of scale only dreamed of in the west. Meanwhile the west will saddle itself with ever higher costs and ever tightening parsimony, eventually being forced to buy in its supposedly green technology from the inscrutable Orient. Damn clever, your Chinese.

Taking Stock

 Wherever you look today there is conflict. And much of it is entirely unnecessary. Woman against man. Trans-woman against born-woman. Black against white and – as always – youth against age. But unlike at any other time in my life, the depth of feeling is beyond mere restlessness. There have always been such tensions, and many more, but right now there is an ugly, visceral feeling of loathing; of self, of others, of ideology, of faith, of life itself.

The human race seems to be intent on waging war on humanity in any guise it can don. Live and let live is an aphorism of a bygone age as, one by one, the tiny minorities gain a foothold in the current vogue for the taking of offence and the demanding of reparation. I’m hurt so somebody must pay, seems to be the common theme. And who must do this paying? Why, white men of a certain age, comes the chorus.

White men who have supposedly benefited from ‘privilege’ throughout their lives must now forfeit every last vestige of that imagined privilege in order to atone for something they have never had. Yes, the most powerful figures on the planet are a very few white men. Jeff Bezos, Elon Musk, Bill Gates, Warren Buffet et al, are, indeed, white men with immense power and privilege, but I think you’ll find they appreciate their good fortune and have not earned it at the expense of others.

Nor do they have any overt ambition to become the evil overlords that many assume them to be (except maybe the ‘Technoking’ at Tesla). But look, with the exception of Musk, they are invariably old white men, a literal dying breed. The most financially successful media personality is a woman – Oprah – and snapping at the heels of all this white privilege are countless aspirants of colour, many of them of the female variety.

The old white man’s days are done. Over. Soon the world will be run by a diverse tidal wave of mediocrity, because that, it appears, is what the world wants. On a planet where Jedward (for fuck’s sake) think they can legitimately demand that Churchill is uprooted, and be cheered for the sentiment, anything could happen. When the world is run by the likes of Shola Mugabe Umbongo maybe the current crop of protesters will begin to understand what they have lost.

Or maybe not. Maybe, in a few generations when the last few white kids are being compulsorily sterilised they will meekly accept that this is final payback for their sins. In certain quarters one drop of ‘black’ blood is considered enough. Could the same be said for all the other groups clamouring for special treatment? How about we all get dosed with a pint of blood from a communal, everybody-in blood bank? Will that help, do you think?

The only way is up?

The fact is, the malcontents, of whatever flavour, are fuelled by a love of chaos, exemplified by the rioting, wanton destruction and violence that all too often accompanies protests which are supposed to be about healing and unity. If the last couple of decades have taught me anything it is that whatever my personal circumstances, whatever my feelings, whatever I might be able to contribute to a national debate, as a white male, of a certain age, I have no seat at the table, no stake in the future. I hope you all enjoy what comes next.

We need to talk about Kevin

When I heard Dame Louise Casey being interviewed on BBC PM yesterday evening, following the International Women’s Day debate in Parliament, my first thought was “Here we go again – men bashing.” Following the discovery of human remains in Kent woods, suspected to be those of Sarah Everard, sensitivities were heightened and there was a real edge to Dame Louise’s voice.

Violence against women had been highlighted in the day and emotions were running high. But coming on the back of Princess Sparkle’s ‘everybody is racist’ diatribe it felt that the tide really was turning for straight, white men. In the era of de-platforming, cancel culture and the refusal to let the maligned defend themselves, white men were the safe enemy du jour for every group with a grievance

One thing she was saying, which was initially indicative of that mood was that insisting “That isn’t me!” was not enough. Bloody hell, I thought, you no longer need to commit a crime to be automatically guilty as part of the accused group. Need a suspect? Round up all the white men; the more middle aged, the more Brexity, the better. But instead of switching off, as many would do – not my problem, darling- I carried on listening and I realised she was right; we really do need to talk about this.

In Lionel Shriver’s disturbing novel, Kevin is a malevolent ball of evil from the day he is born, and none of this is alleviated by whatever his parents try to do. Read it; I won’t spoil the ending. But Kevins have persisted throughout history. Few of us will have been lucky enough never to have encountered a person – usually a male – who gets away with whatever he wishes. Boys, men, who possess a will that few stand up against. The bullies, the cruel kid, the eventual wife beater, the sadist, the paedophile, probably more accurately described as a child abuser; no love there.

These people are feared by those in authority and are often not afraid to seek retribution against those who try to discipline them; the teacher beaten-up out of school, the slashed tyres, the neighbour who deliberately makes your life a misery. While I have no truck with the notion of evil as a supernatural force, or an inherent trait passed on in the genes, there is a mountain of evidence that evil-doing tends to cling to certain families, certain types of people.

The abused often becomes the abuser this much is known. And while not exclusively, abuse most often occurs in the poor and poorly educated, in the classes often referred to, or at least quietly thought of, as sub-human, feral and out of the reach of reason. So what is to be done? Some men, a small number in proportion, habitually use physical and mental abuse, coercion and fear to control their world and these men can often be identified from an early age.

Much time was spent in discussing how young boys need to be educated in how to behave; how to become decent human beings. But these problems were just as prevalent back in the days when education did actually discipline we male savages and sought to avoid a Lord of the Flies outcome. It didn’t work, or at least it didn’t work as well as might have been hoped.

Unacceptable

No, we need a different discussion about 'Kevin', and it is a discussion that nobody in authority wants to have. The patterns of violence, against women in particular, recur in families and in sectors of society where this is almost considered normal. Child abuser begets child abuser, rapist begets rapist. If we really are going to talk about Kevin, why not grasp the nettle and begin with a serious discussion about whether the Kevins should ever be allowed to breed?

Vespers

Following 'that' interview, to turn on the television today, or to tune in the radio has been an exercise in ethnic cleansing. White commentators trying to scrub their skin black. Black commentators trying to rub out their very existence. If you are white today you are the new minority voice. Nothing you can say will – in the views of the wokeratti – atone for your sin; the sin of being born with pale skin in a society which privileges darker tones.

You are to blame and must make reparations for every imagined sin of your ancestors, even if your ancestors suffered privations every bit as harsh as Virginia plantation slaves. If you even dare to look at the black man the wrong way, the perceived slight may be actionable in law. Your own law, used against you. As you watch your culture being eroded in front of your eyes you might find your memories recalling happier days.

If AA Milne was writing Vespers today, the sentiment might be altogether less maudlin, less sickly sweet. I like to imagine it would have a more defiant ring to it:

Be careful what you wish for, race baiters. The law of unintended consequences is rarely on the side of the aggressors. But if it's a war you really want, you'd best be prepared to fight to the death.

Burning Bridges

The precise words probably do not exist to describe the contempt in which I hold the oh-so-victimised Sussexes. But even though I am no keen follower of matters royale, it has been impossible to get through the last few days without hearing about the steaming pile of confected bullcrap masquerading as ‘revelations’ vouchsafed to Oprah Winfrey. The only thing left to marvel at is the continuing ability of so many people to believe so many egregious lies.

Lies? Yes, of course. Even if the liar believes it, the ‘big boys did and ran away’ excuse is only ever an occasion for derision. The deluded child, Markle, has imagined every possible way she could have been traumatised, probably by watching staged ‘interviews’ with the mistress of such pap, then regurgitating the same tired old psychobabble in front of said mistress. On reflection, steaming bullcrap probably gives it far too much credence.

Here is a woman who in order to garner attention, announced to the world that she was black. O-kaaaay, said the world, we’ll go along with it; what are you selling? Racism, she said. Woah, we replied, are you sure you want to go there? When somebody has to tell you she is ‘black’ because otherwise nobody would have noticed, you know there are issues. When she then uses it as a launching pad for her own victimhood story, well…

The phrase ‘mental health’ is bandied about so much today that it has become a part of every tragi-comedy in public life. Tragic because the casual (and incomplete) use of the phrase belittles everybody who genuinely suffers from poor mental health; comic because well, look at them. Poor me, is all it says. You don’t get to judge your mental state; you just live it. We get to judge, and in this case we judge you a fantasist.

There is a sickness in some people that they must feign genuine illness in order to garner attention. Some people have even taken to wheelchairs and sticks to play the part. Munchausen syndrome is a now common label for something that would have been unthinkable a couple of stoic generations ago. But physical illness is such a bore when one can claim to have a disease of the mind. It is the back pain of former years – an undiagnosable condition that nevertheless may need to be taken seriously.

The idiot Labour leader, Keir Starmer, yesterday declared that the accusations of racism throughout the royal establishment must be taken seriously. I would love to see him in a room explaining this to former Labour voters, members of the actual working class of all skin tones who could explain to him how fucking ridiculous he is. For today’s politicians, No bandwagon must be left un-leapt upon. In contrast Boris Johnson has effectively - and quite rightly - dismissed the whole affair as irrelevant.

And Boris is right. While some American commentators fondly imagine the Amazing Ms Markle is single-handedly bringing down the British monarchy, the reality is that she is bringing down just one; her spineless idiot husband and father of her future meal ticket. There may be a way back into the bosom of the family for Harry when the party is over – nobody is giving long odds on this being a pairing for life – but he will be as popular as a cup of cold sick in the country at large. Good riddance.

Infamy!

They’ve all got it in for me! The late, great Kenneth Williams’ most remembered line popped to mind when I began to type this wee blog. This weekend it was my birthday. I am a few – very few – years away from qualifying for my meagre state pension and life has been, shall we say ‘variable’. I’ve had a few laughs, I’ve loved and lost, I’ve made and spent a bit of money, but the one thing I have learned is that nobody – nobody – knows the future.

Not even Elon Musk who is, I fear, going to be responsible for a lot of people losing their shirts as they follow his wild lead. Nobody knows what will happen tomorrow, the next day, the next year; yet everybody thinks they know what happened before, or what is happening now. But do they?? This past year has given far too many people, ill-equipped to exercise such analysis, far too much time to do just that. And while it is only human to imagine the universe is out to get you, it really isn’t.

So how did I spend my birthday weekend? Eight hours of it, thereabouts, was given over to watching the whole of the new Adam Curtis documentary “Can’t get you out of my head – an emotional history of the modern world”. Having followed a link in a tweet I sat there, spellbound for the entire day. I couldn’t look away. My mood went from “Oh, my god, just another nutjob” to “Wow, I never realised that!” I found myself swaying in the breeze, my stomach lurching as I thought I’d fallen for propaganda then feeling relief that I had been right all along.

And it made me realise something; actually, it made me solidify theses I have had all along, as the best confirmation bias always does. There are conspiracies, of course there are, but conspiracy theories are invariably the result of incomplete facts, inadequate comprehension and, most of all, prejudice. And by prejudice I mean, literally, pre-judging the outcome. Thus, if you believe there is a new world order which wants to shut down economies, almost nothing will persuade you otherwise, especially arguments to persuade you otherwise.

I think I can guess where the documentary maker stands on Brexit, Trump, politics in general, but I wouldn’t bet my wad on it. The series skilfully mixes cold, hard fact, with some difficult to stomach truths and shows how little it can take to spread a rumour of foul deeds and secret plots. Eventually though, if you are honest and pay attention you come out of it realising that you were right all long.

Or that I was, and it’s all of you lot who are wrong. Or maybe that’s is how Curtis wants you to think… or not? I don’t, however, believe his intent was to change minds but rather to get you to open them a little wider. An unfeasibly large butterfly flaps its wings in the Amazon rain forest and three weeks later floods drive people out of their homes in Somerset. Coincidence? What do you think?  

Don’t mind me

We’ve all seen the type of message – Facebook, Twitter, forums, etc – a stream of consciousness ramble which, while it possibly made perfect sense inside the author’s head, conveys no such clarity to the reader. Often the context makes the meaning clear but, rather more often, different people read different things. If the post is part of an argument, a lack of precision, poor grammar and misspellings do little to advance the debate.

The other day I posted a general tweet to the effect that sometimes I read things that are so poorly expressed – I particularly referred to spelling – that the meaning is not only unclear, it is not worth further effort to understand. I suggested it was better to ignore such word salads out of embarrassment for the originator. Sometimes, indeed, the use of words is so poor you know straight away it is not worth engaging.

I didn’t suggest one should point and laugh, nor indeed attempt to correct, merely to ignore, but right on cue came the accusations of being a grammar or spelling Nazi. And much like those piling in with the Covid conspiracy theories, the point was entirely missed. And missed by a mile. Better yet, given that I had specifically suggested ignoring such posts, I was instantly accused of overt judgment, despite cautioning the opposite. Some replies were quite judgmental.

When I suggested some months ago that I refused to entertain a firm opinion, either way, on the government’s handling of the pandemic, on account of not possessing the relevant facts or understanding, the Kovid Klan waded in to ‘educate’ me. “Only an idiot couldn’t see what was ‘really’ happening!” they informed me. “You must be a fucking Tory arse-licker!” they opined. Some of the posts were quite illiterate and many were self-contradictory.

The similarities between the responses to both positions were interesting. Those who had least comprehended what I was saying were most determined to impose a meaning I had not expressed. And those who felt – because they hadn’t read it properly – that I was attacking them, decided to lash out in return. It was highly illuminating, especially as I had accidentally missed out the second word in the tweet and almost all of them failed to notice.

In fact, of the very few who pointed it out to me, most were extremely polite and I, equally politely (I hope) acknowledge the irony. On balance I guess I got about one-third support and two-thirds opprobrium. But what was really telling, I thought, was that the criticism came mostly from the illiteratti. Interesting then, that those most in need of correction were most resistant to it. There is a something very human about all that.

They probably won't get this!

As if to prove there point about grammar and speeling bean unimportant I had to wade threw quiet a few long and rambling. Replyes wich made no sence atall becos without at punctuation you don’t know if they no their shit or whether they’re full of it because you don’t need to spell thing write for there meening to be cleer so mister clever clogs its you and not me who needs to think before you write they might have bad childhoods and not their fault if they don’t know is it or do you think yore better than they… etc.

Of course, being the mild-mannered type that I am I wouldn’t know where to begin with such a response… So I just ignored them.