Part 2 of 2
I didn't 'Protest The Pope' as to do so is to feed the delusion that he is important. Ditto Thatcher. I suggested Mock The Pope instead, but the tiresome Dawkins was resistant, apparently, even if Hitch was onboard. Mock the Mourners is today's theme. "Ding Dong" was a perfect storm of British mockery and ironic protest, but the BBC had to betray their charter, betray the very notion of British fair-play, rip up the cricket stump and put on the Chicago School shoulder pads to match Maggies. They are WORSE than the Tory Party's wank-fest funeral/celebration. The staged and studied 'statement' of Carol Thatcher with her arms-dealing brother skulking behind her was merely a prelude to her next stage of media rehabilitation from "GollywogGate". Benjamin Zephaniah destroyed I wonder what contracts for exclusive interviews and media appearances she will now sign to 'tell us of her pain' at being a barely loved child like her mother was to her ambitious Alderman father. Thatcher and Plath, has no one else seen the connection?
Scargill and Galloway are given face-time, but not to consider their position respectfully, but as pantomime ogres to reflect wisdom on the entire Establishment basking in glow of St Margaret's halo. But that glow is the political equivalent of every outdated nuclear reactor in Britain about to explode in their faces. The neoliberal 'solution' to the woes of the 1970s has been the equivalent of building nuclear power stations without accepting they might one day face an earthquake and tsunami. It's coming. Not just to Britain but all over the world. Collapse.
Occupy Neoliberalism.
Today I wear a Gramsci t-shirt in safety, knowing that no-one on these streets will have a clue. Nowhere in the so-called Fourth Estate have I seen Brad deLong's comment on Thatcher's letter to Hayek discussed:
There is a conspiracy not of silence, but of stupid acquiescence to a myth, a fairy tale, a reverse pantomime that seeks to establish Thatcher as Cinderella to Reagan. The Queen has totally destroyed her credibility as Peter Oborne, the High Priest of Telegraph Toryism fully understands. And he knows how this will play out over the next decades.
In 1979, Britain was invaded by a foe at least as dangerous as Hitler. But, unlike Hitler, the pernicious anti-British ideology of Thatcherism succeeded in subverting our historic institutions and bulwarks against fascist ideology. The BBC is now complicit as a corporate criminal enterprise using public money to celebrate the Benefit Theft festival of Thatchers Funeral endorsed by Queen Elizardbeast and her recent 20% pay rise whilst those on a Minimum, Not Living Wage get 1%. As do "the poor and the needy, selfish and greedy" 'subjects' of both the Queen of the British Empire and the Zombie Queen of Neoliberals World-Wide. The zombie apocalypse is happening today on the streets of London.
Morrissey is spot on, so I'm going to give him an escape route: He probably has organised his tax affairs to avoid HMRC. Unless he has broken the law, like his sexuality; it's no-ones business. I have been testing his resolve and authenticity and he has passed through the fire of my Inquisition intact via this statement. Whether he has funded peaceful resistance to British imperialism by supporting peaceful Irish Republicans and resistance to the joint co-dependent British-Argentine Junta project that is Las Falklands, then posterity will reveal the truth.
For now, I hope he strips it back to basics, like the Polecats did at Birmingham Irish Centre's Leinster Room recently. I hope he uses this statement as a springboard for a new phase of his fascinating journey through Art, Religion, Psychology and Politics to unleash the anger and inspirational outrage of these words in lyrics and ululating yodels and yelps that also have to been banned from the airwaves as 'not cricket, too ding-dong". I sat front row at Jerry Sadowitz's show at Wolves Civic recently, reflecting on Moz's hilarious appearance there in his St Trinian's bus. Jerry was blacklisted for outing Savile. I'm blacklisted by every Mason and Opus Dei creep in the British, Irish, American and Australian Establishment. And Morrissey is blacklisted too. He will not get a mainstream recording contract unless either or both Al-Jazeera and Russia Today decide to set up a boutique imprint. Actually, I'm in discussions to organise that, so I'll make contact with Morrissey later this year.
I understand how Morrissey has lapsed into incoherent babble as he's struggled to absorb the immensity of the world's maxima culpas. I've fallen under the 'madness' too. But now, today, there can be no more illusion, no more delusion. We do not need to speculate on Lizards and Illuminati when we see how the death of a 'saint' had been spun. Winston is spinning in his grave, covered in the vomit of disgust at our nation.
Psy has shown the way. If Morrissey finds the music, the words and the images, then a simple post to YouTube will bring him to a billion. But, careful what you wish for....the great artists of history and prehistory were often ambivalent, even 'anonymous', knowing that their vision was simply 'too much' for the current iteration of reality. Initially, Morrissey appeared almost miraculously in a pre-internet era where his metamodern mash-up of reality was a blessed relief from the hegemenony of Murdoch and MacKenzie.[I don't remember Thatcher publicly remonstrating and condemning "Gotcha!" by the way].
The sadness of the Brighton bombings was that innocent people were targetted, as they were on November 21 1974 in Birmingham. Norman Tebbit's wife could never have done anything to deserve such a fate, nor the joggers slipping down the side-streets of Boston, where there's panic on the streets...
Thatcher declared war on British culture. I regard her as both an 'enemy within' and as an intellectual terrorist. Like Osama Bin Laden, her death should have been silent to a watery grave, unmarked by preposterous censorship of pop songs, clock towers and anyone who fancies a bottle of cider outside St Paul's as a pre-lunch cocktail. In my mind's eyes, as I burn her effigy and look out to Cader Idris, to the Welsh Marches, to Shropshire, to where Owain Glyndŵr was foiled at Worcester, I will also be on the Belgrano as it sinks, and I will offer a prayer to those young men who were murdered by Thatcher in the full knowledge and connivance of the Junt who worshipped her War Pig ideology and helped shape it.
Here, where Thatcher sought refuge, and everyone knew, especially the IRA, but no one could reach her, except Jimmy Savile having passed MI5 scrutiny: I will protest. And I will, as always, Protest at the Proms, where ignorant fcuks think they own Elgar and Britten. "Elgar is me. Britten I will be!" This is not Thatcher's Britain, it was, is, and always will be: the country of Shakepeare and his sister, of Brummie Boy and his 'secretary' Sharon McCormick. We will go down with this ship of Britishness, we fought Hitler, we fought Thatcher. We are Celtic Blood, Saxon Hearts, and we will never, ever submit to the Norman Toraigh 1000 year yoke and Reich. 1066-2066. 1916-2016: it's time to set these Isles of Wonder free, and we all have a part to play. You, me, and Morrissey.
I'm a public figure now, and yet I'm not. I have Harry Potter's cloak of invisibilty and Bilbo's Ring of Power. Anyone on Sark or in Camp Mordor-Murdoch or Camp Dacre: beware! Here be dragons! Here be monsters! Just type in my name and see how many superinjunctins come up due to Fr XXX, and 'Savile and others'. Let's see if Kier Starmer is fit for purpose or whether he's going to be dragged before the War Crimes Tribunal in The Hague alongside everyone else. Including, especially, the BBC. The myrmidons defending Thatcher will also fail, falling into the garbage can of history. Hence, the supreme tactical moves of Peter Oborne in distancing himself from today's unseemly orgy of constitutional desecrations. They are doing more for the Republican cause on both sides of the Irish Sea than they could possible realise in their worst nightmares.
I offered Truth and Reconciliation, but Thatcher and her successors, Major, Blair, Brown, Cameron and Clegg wanted war. As did Haughey through to Cowen. Enda-you're on your final warning! So war it is. Or was. It's over. I won. But, "Matt and Trey are on my side". Adam Ant sang "ridicule is nothing to be scared of." No, it isn't, unless you're a pompous fraudulent windbag like Thatcher. Morrissey has, with this statement, 'walked through fire'. Welcome back. And I hope you enjoy the manifestation of BrummieBoy, if he can be persuaded to abandon the pleasures of hearth and home and step on stage for the first time since Dublin in 1970. Bigger than Elvis? Bigger than MJ? Bigger than Psy? Quite possibly, if he decides that's the way, 'going forward'[sic] and can pay the gas bill! As Moz said "you can be a hoot on the internet but mean nothing in 'real life'. Listen to Real Life by Magazine, my friend...LOL! It may end in the local karaoke bar or on Copacabana Beach at the winter solstice of 2021 before 1,500,000 in the ultimate carnival after Collapse. Or, the 'transmission' from 'another place' may fail, the secret knife that opened the portal at Birmingham Oratory may be found by MI5. It may end with him declining, or once again seeking refuge in 'insanity'. We'll see. Ekaterina Babooshka has moved closer, the collaborations begin. Everything is up for grabs, in the second half, third and final act of "The (Un)Examined Life of BrummieBoy".
[it needs part 3!]
f*** he's smart.
I bet Mozzy would love Umberto Eco's essays "Travels into Hyper Reality." Touches on the trend of fake journalism he's definitely got a bug up his butt about. (Rightfully so. It;s unnerving.)
:guffaw:
