Friday, July 23, 2021

The Revolution Woke Up Late for Work

It appears to me that Dominic Cummings has modelled himself on late-stage Robespierre. This leads to the frightening realisation that the counterrevolution has got itself into the driving seat before the ACTUAL revolution has even got out of bed. The reign of terror will no doubt follow shortly.

Friday, May 14, 2021

Sacrificial Anode

Season Bloom ~ Nguyen Thanh Nhan


In grey silhouette profile against the sky full moon bisected and reflected perfectly by the glassy wet horizon, Iskandar kneels in full ceremonial armour.
Caped and cowled Aurora approaches, her elegant footfalls ripple the water’s silver surface.
The two figures face one another, one kneels with head upturned to be a kissed from the bowing other.
The kiss received upon her bhindi, Iskandar’s armour glows cyan along its feedlines; power flowing into the mechanism that is her body, her purpose.
Her duty performed, Aurora dissipates, black dust rising and dispersing against the silver moon; returned to the structure that sustains us all.
Iskandar rises to her feet, silver drops fall from wetted knees, armoured feet levitate slow, then her silhouette shrinks as she heads at speed towards the waiting moon, reduced to a dot, her mission to fulfil.

Tales for an attention deficit world

Monday, April 05, 2021

More Tea?


There’s a turnaround for the books: during Saturday’s KillTheBill protest in London, the crowd effectively kettled the police.
Now whether this occurred due to good planning on the side of the protesters or bad planning by the police, it is refreshing to see the police being subjected to intimidation for a change.
My limited experience in protest marching leads me to find it hard to believe that the crowd was trained to perform this manoeuvre but rather that is a case of the Police being untrained to deal with a situation where they don’t have the upper hand; in addition, it would appear that the Police management (like all management) is incompetent.
I take comfort from the fear that was evident in the actions of the individual cops, some of whom had lost their Easter bonnets, leaving their pink cock-heads exposed to the elements.

Monday, March 22, 2021

Dead Binary Star


The majority shareholders in Empire UK employ two agencies to take care of the controls.
Agency 1 is the Ministry of Propaganda
Agency 2 is the Ministry of Division (not to be confused with the Division Division which consists of only 2 civil servants who spend their days throwing insults at one another).
Agency 1 is the Ministry of Information.
Agency 2 is the Home Office.
These agencies are a powerful weapon that has been moulded and manipulated and pointed directly at the populace.
Don’t believe me?
Look again:
  1. Brexit is a new shiny badge in the trophy cabinet at the Ministry of Division.
  2. The Ministry of Propaganda disputes the accolade but is happy to take ownership of the pandemic message and spreads it zealously, exploiting all cultural references and fingerholds in the edifice of society. Or to put it more bluntly: The corporate media outlets (and I include all terrestrial media outlets here) are telling you what the Major Shareholders want you to believe.
  3. The Ministry of Division would like to remind The Ministry of Propaganda that it (Propaganda) is often spreading the message devised by itself (Division).
Both of these Agencies are only as good as their tools.
These tools range from ancestral prejudice and regional pride; the flags of your neighbour to boil your blood; to fingering the wounds inflicted during the empire’s murky military peak.
These tools range from psychological profiling, focus groups and, to some degree, that which they can fish from the myriad waters of The Social Media.
At the blunt end of The Home Office’s toolbox are the Police (Or the Police Force, to give it its more accurate title.)
It is no mystery why the Police Force is generally uniformed in Black & White.
The Police Force has no interest in propaganda, believing as it does, that it is an entity unto itself; a truly binary entity whose individual atoms are well aware that the undefined area between definitions of lawful and unlawful are where any situation is most easily exploited to their advantage.
And, if that fails to convince the non-complier, then The Police Force is the baton hand that reigns down blows before the erect penis of the Ministry of Division.
One way or the other these agencies are tasked with making sure that you obey.
And what, you ask, are the Major Shareholders doing while all this is happening down here on the street?
What are they doing besides devising ever more complex ways of ‘making’ money and accumulating power?
Is it beyond belief to think that the brainchild behind this headlong dash toward the abyss is nothing more than some rodent with a chip on his shoulder, one who is determined to take over the world no matter the consequence; because he is merely a winner and he wants to be the winner?
The Ministry of Division has become so efficient in its primary function that it has failed to notice that the resultant grains of its successful division of all opposition and the grains created by the course blades of its oppression are starting to come together inside pigeonholes that are as yet undefined by the Ministry of Propaganda.
Grains of the miners and the rail workers; grains of the suicides and the victims being cared for in the community; grains of the sports fans who have slowly been priced out of their passion in its myriad manifestations; grains of the actual grafters who’ve just had to stay on the running machine to survive; the grains of the non-conformists from all factions who will come together in order not to conform to this greater threat.

There’s a phrase from a song by Latin Quarter about Apartheid (Divided) South Africa that goes:
And your guns can fire, and your prisons fill
And you've yards of rope for hanging still
But your guns can shoot and never hit the sky
And there's no rope as long as time

Saturday, March 06, 2021

The Sheep (Don’t Even Try to) Look Up

There is nothing unhealthier than a room lit by television.
Not simply the light being emitted, but rather the quality of the information being beamed into the unlit mind.

Television is a beacon that is set to transmit only – there is no conversation going on between you and the television.
Sheep flock to the beacon’s flicker, they can’t help themselves. The beacon is transmitting the common ideal, a bitter pill, shaped and packaged by our protective shepherds to gain our compliance and conformity.
And if the media fails to cause the desired effect, they send out the crook of uniformed stooges to force the issue.
Our good shepherds seek nothing more serious from us than our very meat; but first they will fleece us.

Title thanks to John Milton; John Brunner and Fad Gadget but not necessarily in that order.


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