Short Memories and The Road to Tyranny
Having a strong long term memory is a gift and a curse, but more of a beneficial gift if we’re looking at it from a glass half full perspective. Anyone that knows me well will vouch for that, and those who don’t vouch have suffer from having terrible memories, and I’m sorry for your loss. On many occasions I have brought something up in conversation and a friend or relative will say “oh yeah, I remember that now, how did you remember that?” Yes I am blessed, and I also bless, so let me bless you all with my fabulous memory.
Since coming back to the UK for a longer visit than expected, I have noticed many changes, and most of them disgust me. They disgust me so much that I begin show signs of giving a shit, and this troubles me. I have always prided myself on how little shits I give, even my teachers remarked on that, though it wasn’t meant as a compliment, I took it as one (the glass has always been half full for me). I shouldn’t give a shit, as that’s why I left the country in the first place. The UK is overpriced, but if the price was worth paying I might stay, it’s all the other bullshit as well that confirmed my decision. I could write an epic novel on how dud my homeland has become, so I will spare you all the talking points and just point out a recent highlight.
I, like many of you, remember the start of the pandemic, but unlike most of you, I remember it very well, because I am cursed with memory. I remember clearly the videos coming from China, how horrendous, stark and terrifying they were. I also remember people’s reactions. I also remember people in my country and our kindred spirits in other western nations first reacted. It’s just influenza they said and it’s a panic over nothing. Having been consistently in contact with Chinese citizens and living in south east Asia, I wasn’t so sure about that claim. I was teaching young kids who were holed up in bunkers. I didn’t believe the Chinese were the kind to over-react to a pandemic, because after-all they are very use to this kind of thing. Roll on years later, and those very same who said don’t panic, now insist on panic, even though, with hindsight on their side, they were somewhat correct in the first place. It was me who was incorrect, but unlike them, my ego is in check and don’t have a problem with being wrong. Admitting you’re wrong will save your life. I may have been completely surrounded by East Asian culture and the nature of saving face, but I don’t need to assimilate that hard my friends.
Coming back to those terrifying videos from China, this reminds me of why I was correct about how bad it was going to get due to the public begging the government to lock them in their homes. I recall a video circulating on Twitter of a woman being pulled from a car in a city in China somewhere by Police. Her crime was to have covid. This was awful, but also something to be expected from the Chinese regime. This would never happen in my country I thought, until I saw how people were reacting to it. Amongst the correct reaction of horror, I noticed some startling praise coming from westerners. There were comments like “this is how we should deal with this.” And I understood that reaction, because these viruses are always scary, mainly due to the media’s lust for fear, and if you know someone has had it who was near you at any point, it fills you irrational paranoia. You want every diseased fuck locked up away from you, because you don’t want to be in hospital dying from bat-aids. But this is wrong, and you know it is, or you at least knew it was. From these reactions I could see something new was coming, a new future that was ripped from the pages of all my favourite dystopian fiction writers, and I wasn’t too enthused by it. In order to feel safe, people would throw everyone else under the bus and demand that the government keep them safe.
That’s exactly what happened and by March I witnessed the outcries from the British public to shut everything down. Boris Johnson said we should practice heard immunity, but the public, spurred on by the media’s love for fear induced drama, called him a murderer and person who just cared about money rather than people. The same people who now moan about the government shutting things down and imposing restrictions at the drop of a hat over and over again, are the very same who demanded this be done. Because what? China did it? You absolute clowns. I said this would end badly, and it has. Not only are these the same people who demanded lockdowns, they are also the same people who constantly yap about how the conservative government are liars and you can’t trust a single thing they say. And yet, as soon as they said jump, they ran over, cupped their balls, and asked how long they wanted to be sucked for before asking “how high.” I pity you.
The big reason I prefer to live in developing nations rather than my comfortable existence in the UK is that they understand something about personal responsibility. They understand this not because they are superior, but because they have no choice. That’s the gift of being proper poor. We’re not talking benefit hand out poor here, we’re talking being so poor that you will have to bring up your kids on the streets poor. The nanny state, as they like to call it, has reduced my country to a snivvelling entitled little shit pony that blames everyone else for their own problems and then demands someone else do something about every little thing that goes wrong in their life. How they disgust me.
I am tired of hearing about restrictions and people harping on about how we need these restrictions because people don’t take things seriously. Well, I have some news for you sweetie-plums, you can’t expect people to be responsible when you have carefully crafted a culture that rejects personal responsibility. My once impressive nation has been socially engineered into becoming a nation of screeching babies, and that includes those who call for restrictions and criticize the actions of others. I don’t know when they decided that they were somehow superior. I laugh at them.
When I arrived I was astounded by being constantly told to get vaccinated right away by people who had no issue with coughing un-masked into my air space. I was gob-smacked by being told to get vaccinated for my and everyone else’s own good by cocaine snorting half-wits who ate sausage rolls and cereal for breakfast. I was dumb-founded by being told to get vaccinated by people who had to book two seats on an aeroplane to accommodate their lack of discipline and addiction to gluttony. What a load of old shit.
From day one I did what was recommended, so much so I developed a simple habit of coughing into my elbow, as was expected. I then noticed people wondering around, terrified of everyone else, wearing their mask like they had their mother’s tit strapped to their lips. Then they’d remove mummy’s tit and cough into the air and proceed to finger their nose with an unwashed hand that had touched every onion in the supermarket vegetable aisle. These specimens considered me to be a threat to their health. Me? Mr Supplement. Mr two sauna’s a day. Mr swimming. Mr responsible. Please return to your mother’s vagina, you aren’t ready yet.
Now they say not only are the unvaccinated ruining their lives, but the unboosted are too! And they will demand the government do more and force everyone into a jab-camp and not be let out until they are fully marinated. These are the ones who Anne Frank didn’t ask for help. Make no mistake. The demand to be safe will bite them on the arse at some point in the future, and then with their impressive hindsight they will moan and groan about the evil government. It never occurs to these bell-ends that perhaps the government actually do serve the people, and that the people are dictated to by the financial turmoil of corporate media. It doesn’t really matter I suppose, because they can never learn to stand on their own when they have demanded that the government not only be their parents, but also be the decision making part of their own brain.
It’s these people, possibly even you, that put us all in danger. Freedom isn’t about safety, it’s about responsibility. Young, wild and free is a song title, freedom is not devoid of responsibility, and therefore if you choose freedom from responsibility you are merely a child, roaming around picking it’s nose and wiping snot on good people and then cry to the authorities when they punch you. They beg the government to whip their tits out and shower them with comfort milk, and then they turn on the government when they realize the milk is very sour and makes them very sick.
I was always ashamed to be white when I saw bullshit acts of racism. I was always ashamed of being British when I saw lobster-tanned idiots abusing the locals in Benidorm. I was never ashamed to be human until a scientist decided to get weird with a bat in Wuhan. Fuck these people. They can have this country. They allow the state to consume everything they have. They can deal with the consequences further down the line, and the consequences it will have on their children’s children. When they come crying, I will remind them of my superior memory, and tell them to go away. And so should you.
The price of freedom is being responsible. That means if you decide to put you balls in a toaster and electrocute your future children to death, you don’t call the hospital, sue the manufacturer and then beg the government for financial assistance to restore your balls. You just live with your stupidity and remember what not to do next time. Stop sucking on the governments tit, it’s as bad as sucking their dick.