This blog post is a lesson. It shows you what happens when you have an idea on the 9:45 from Berkhamsted, but you don’t write it out until you are on the 13:00 to York. Standing, watching a succession of people fail to get up for the elderly, I was distracted by a recent memory of a political debate and the desperation for the Brexiteenies to get everything going as fast as they could as evidence was getting in the way of their faux noble intentions. I saw the 600 words I needed, but had to interrupt them with a quick interview about entropy with Sean Carroll. The heat death of my thoughts is clearly evident below.
The final presidential debate is in Las Vegas. What a perfect place to highlight that politics is a lurid carnival, but it is a lurid carnival that will destroy people’s lives and won’t care much that it has.
We live in Charge of Light Brigade times.
Though I also have flashbacks to Peter Weir’s powerful, if not entirely historically accurate, Gallipoli.
“Marker flags have been seen.”
However strong the evidence against a course of action, it seems we are always offered far less evidence based evidence that demands we keep marching on.
Meanwhile, the generals that have put great effort into creating the parlous situation leading to sanctioned decay, haughtily condemn their critics for not having the vision and empathy to understand the plight of the people.
Standing around their steaming stools, some still with their trousers and pants around their ankles, others still shitting, their cheeks stained with excrement patches, they look to those who warned them against shitting everywhere, and blame them for the mess.
“Look at all this shit everywhere! the poor people have been stunk out by it and many are slipping in it too. Now some may point the finger at us because some of the shit is still hanging out of our bottoms, but I hardly think that has anything to do with it. The people want less poo, and we are the ones to deliver that dream, except when we are pooing”.
It is a spectacle of remarkable cognitive dissonance to see these politicians blame others for failing to listen to the people when they used to have so little interest in them and will return to their regular tinnitus when it suits them.
I don’t want to believe we are in this “post fact” world, but the UFO abduction/JFK assassination and “naked, priapic Henry Kissinger worshipping an owl” mindset seems to have become mainstream. There are plenty of half-cocked conspiracy and corporate duplicity scenarios that I unhappily fear hold some water (maybe with fluoride and maybe without), but the integrity of the story and evidence trail doesn’t seem to make any difference if you want to believe it, whether it is a pig head fuck or Trump’s prescience at a fixed election. (from my left-leaning perspective, I am drawn towards Greg Palast’s investigation into the fixing of the US election in 2000).
It is spikily comforting to imagine some grand scheme behind all of your life’s failings, but the puppet masters may be spending more time trying to cover up the fact they are tangled up in their own strings than actually managing to manipulate anyone else. It seems we have been overrating the abilities those who wish to project their power and spite upon us, though they still have the power to fuck up what they have in front of them while the population take on the role of collateral damage.
Meanwhile, establishment figures from the more scurrilous side of financial manipulation are recast as everyman saviours despite track records of not giving a fuck about any man let alone everyone of them. Emotion beats evidence. Our guts dominate our minds as well as our bodies.
“For too long the working person has been abused, conned and underpaid…and often by me, so if you want to see an end to that, vote for me, as I may have less time screw you over due to being busy working on a much scale of destruction”.
The Jackie Collins-ification of politics into lewd and glossy spectacle pushes more and more people away from it, and so the pit gets murkier.
Dungeon orgy politics.
What commentators can I trust without believing that I must spend 3 hours a day fact checking their 800 words?
Each step further away from witnessing any incident creates another crack wide enough to let fogs of misinformation and disinformation to pour in.
Do you just stay in your cellar screaming at the dressed rats or do you replace the centralised political world with grassroots activity and direct involvement in activities that are impervious to obfuscation due to your proximity.
I’ll just go buy some taffeta and take a tape measure to my rats, then I’ll decide.
A new horror anthology with stories by Josie Long, Alice Lowe, Isy Suttie, James Acaster, Rufus Hound, me and many more is available now.