Wednesday 16 September 2015

Take The Royal Grilling

On the count of three, to the tune of God Save The Queen 'Who gives a shit?" The whole debacle about Jeremy Corbyn respectfully standing, yet refusing to sing the National Anthem at a service to commemorate the Battle Of Britain, is quite frankly not news. I wish to begin by nailing my colours to the mast. I am a slightly right of centre libertarian who did not vote Labour at the last election. Nor am I a member of any political party/group. I am however, a republican { not a member of Republic, though I subscribe to their newsletter}. I find Monarchism baffling from a logical standpoint. I believe hereditary rulers, in the dim and distant past served an evolutionary purpose which has long since been outgrown. Yes, they were a unifying factor in primitive societies, do they really serve a purpose in this day and age? NO. They are expensive, absurd and do not generate nearly as much income as Monarchists would have you believe. If you care to do any further reading simply follow this link: https://republic.org.uk/what-we-want/royal-finances The most bizarre part of the whole thing is that upon being voted Leader Of The Opposition Corbyn has to become a member of The Privy Council. An archaic, outdated institution whose brief is supposedly to 'advise the Monarch' had he refused this dubious honour, he would've been barred from attending meetings of The Advisory Council On National Security. So you see we don't really live in a democracy, because if you don't believe a hereditary Monarch is the best choice for Head Of State, you're a threat to national security. I for one don't believe Corbyn will ever be Prime Minister. I doubt I would agree with him on the standard colour of shite. The point is this country is riddled with corrupt, ridiculous institutions which ought to be disestablished, The House Of Lords and The Privy Council are but two of them. Of course a want of democracy in terms of which beliefs one is permitted to hold when standing for high office is nothing new, especially if like me, you happen to be a Roman Catholic  {although most Catholic theologians would question my orthodoxy} I identify as such. As Stated in the 1829 Catholic emancipation act, I may not be Monarch, First Lord Of The Treasury/Prime Minister or Lord Lieutenant Of Ireland. Not that I aspire to hold any of the aforementioned offices. The point is 'All Governments Are Organised Hypocrisies.' To misquote Benjamin Disraeli {devoted Monarchist} who once said the same of Conservative governments. I wish to see positive change, I do not think Corbyn wished to disrespect the diverse group of people who fought for our freedom in WWII. I think he was respecting the general public by being honest about what he believes. A recent study by The Whitehouse Consultancy of 225 parliamentary candidates, found that 33.78 were atheist while 42% claimed not to belong to any religious denomination. Yet, most religious skeptics remain closeted, fearful of harming their careers by disclosing their beliefs. I'd sooner know who I was voting for, and while I don't share their opinions, I happen to think honesty is an admirable character trait. So why do we persist with the charade? Answer: Psychological security," I want to live in a cosy little world where The Archers is on the Radio, The Monarch is on the money and we all pretend we believe in God." Many humans have a need for substitute parents who'll think for them and keep them safe. Fathers and Mothers of the Nation, spiritual archetypes whose hagiographies are printed on 20 page, glossy pull-outs, which come free with the Daily Mail. This weird irrational response is not confined to royalty, the same mechanism is obviously in operation in people who worship celebrities. The fact is : You don't know these people, if you are seriously insulted by someone criticising the Royal Family or a celebrity or any other person you do not know: There Is Something Wrong With You! No one likes their core beliefs being challenged, but if you actually think one over-privileged, elderly woman is the spiritual embodiment of the nation you are deluded. The spirit of any nation is the collective consciousness of its citizens. That is why a presidential system is fairer: The people elect them. So choose your pill: The red one with send you back off into your waking coma with the rest of the sheeple, experience the collective outrage when someone in the public eye demonstrates the capacity for free thought. Take the blue one and it'll leave a bitter taste, you'll find the world isn't what you thought it was or what you'd like it to be. Yet, fully aware of the world and all that is the case, therein lies the possibility of making improvements.

Friday 19 June 2015

A Clockwork Testament

Many appy polly loggies o my brothers. It has been a while since you heard from your humble narrator, Alexander  DeLarge. As it is I've been rather busy, rabbiting away for the government in an advisory role on such diverse subjects as social alienation and ultraviolence amongst the young. Visting skolliwolls and youth clubs, re-engaging with disenfranchised young malchicks and chellovecks. The government seems to be convinced that someone like me is ideally placed to get inside the rassoodocks of these lewdies. Though the old 20-1 is on the rise among devotchkas and ptitsas, it is generally much rarer and not so much of a pain in the gulliver for the authorities.
 "What's it going to be then eh?" was the question I asked the young chelloveck I was govoreeting
with. He was uninteressovated in the hand wringing by the starry old vecks in the government.
He explained to me that it made his mozg bezoomy when a molodoy ptitsa or devotchka didn't respond to him. That when she told him in a high preachy sort of a goloss that she wasn't interested in spatting with him, he wanted to tolchock her and rip of her platties and have her on the floor, real savage like. I explained how I had once thought like that but now kopated that sharps were lewdies too. He remained unconvinced my little brothers. He was firm in his conviction that you could only really trust your droogies. Devotchkas only really wanted to control your jeezny and spend your cutter. Some people, trickcylists and other oomny ones believe that these lewdies are vreded in the soul, probably because their Pee and Em were inadequate. Usually the Em, her sins being less forgiveable than the Pee's. What ever the reason, when these molodoy malchicks grow up to become moodges and pees the creeching and tolchocking continues o my brothers, having as one might say an adverse effect upon their zheenas and cheenas. Not to mention their rebyonoks.
  Now, when I was released from the hospital, after the doctors and nurses mended my poor broken plot, I underwent what is known as 'rehabilitation'. Part of this involved govoreeting with a councillor. What this cheena had to skazat related to the label which had been given to your humble narrator. 'sociopath'. You see I had been told I had a condition whereby I couldn't 'emapthise' with others. And because I was sick, the state thought it only just to try and cure me. The councillor forella told me she thought I was perfectly capable of empathising, and that I chose not to. This is what is called 'evil' in old fashioned parlance. Even so the state was wrong to take away my power to choose between the horrorshow and the plockhoy. For when they did that I ceased to be a fully functioning malchick. Like a tom kot without his yarbles. So you viddy my brothers, whatever happens to a malchick when molodoy does not remove his ability to choose. When you think of sharps as sookas, like they are less than malchicks, it is because it makes it easier for you to treat them like cal. Some lewdies think malchicks and chellovecks are born predisposed to think that way. If I'm honest bratties, we probably are, this mesto being what is and lewdies what they are. It is not that we viddy things this way, but that we make no effort to viddy things other. Empathy, can then be a choice and can increase with years, like wisdom. So I leave you with this, o my brothers, try and relate to devotchkas and ptitsas as lewdies first. Less about the old in-out, that's the klootch.

                                             Alexander DeLarge formerly Staja 84F inmate 655321

Friday 20 March 2015

Alpha Dog And The Dweebs



I wish to begin by stating a fact: I have appalling social skills. By which I don't mean I'm impolite or inattentive. I mean I don't 'get' people, I am ill at ease making small talk. Granted what passes for cultural currency with me would doubtless be considered illegal tender by most people. I am far more likely to be impressed by someone who relishes the cover artwork on 1970's Sci-Fi novels than someone who loves 50 Shades Of Grey. I am the Benjamin Disraeli of pornography, if I wanted to read decently constructed filth I'd write it. As it is I prefer reading The Psychopathia Sexualis on the toilet { an average case history endures as long as a standard dump}. While it is highly probable I am on the autistic spectrum {though I have never been officially diagnosed} I am more than capable of polished {formal} interaction. What I don't get is the informal stuff. The nuanced interactions between groups of 'friends'.  I'm talking about the way certain people can act like total beta males in a homosocial environment, yet treat women like shit in relationships. The way certain people are afflicted by a fear of loneliness so paralysing they'd sooner endure all manner of horrible treatment by their peer group rather than just fucking them off. Sorry, but I don't get it. If having a social circle is heaven, then I'd sooner rule in my own lonely hell. Yes, you can get pissed off with your own company, but not half as quickly as with a set of dickheads you're supposed to have a 'bond' with. Unsurprisingly, I did not thrive at the school I was sent to and left after the first year. I was homeschooled thereafter. I always got along better with people who were older than me. As I've matured I've found I can get along with people younger than me too. Part I guess, of the pupil/teacher dynamic. I have never got along with my own peer group. Partly because I don't have a peer group. Sure, some people are the same chronological age, but past a certain point what the fuck does that matter? Who decides the age when we should all pair off, get married, go home and pick curtains for a nursery? Another thing which confuses me is hugging. Now, I have no personal objection to being hugged, but when is it appropriate? Some people hug upon meeting you, others may venture a hug when better acquainted with you, say after 4 or 5 pints. Some people find having their personal space invaded upsetting and object to being hugged at all times. What's wrong with shaking hands till we're better acquainted? Robert Anton Wilson stated in Prometheus Rising that humans marked their territory, no longer by pissing to delineate physical boundaries, but by inky excretions on paper. Which is why I'm quite particular about my blog. I don't get many comments of any kind but if I do, I prefer them, whether affirming or critical to be at least germane to the post. What is it with the non-sequitur shit? What indeed. Back to my original theme. The winner/loser psychology is inherent to all human interactions. None of us wants to be on the bottom of the totem pole. We all engage in unconscious dominant/submissive behaviours in social situations. Even if we're only lulling people into a false sense of security, we pretend we want our tummy tickled. Hence the title of the post. Rude Dog is in fact a cruel father, who, when he liberates the Dweebs form the pound, expects them to be thenceforth beholden to him. They are bound in a familial group not unlike Charles Manson's, where they are expected to participate in criminal activity {the autoshop is a front} in return for Rude Dog's protection. The Dweebs are suffering form a type of collective Stockholm Syndrome. That's why I'm with Seymour The Cat, because he had fucking brains.