A big shitstorm is brewing…
We haven’t had a true global world war for almost 75 years. With the NZ attack, global terrorism has well and truly arrived. Are we seeing the the early stages of WW3?
I suppose I would now identify as neither left-wing nor right wing, but neutral/centrist. I was a staunch leftie until only a few weeks ago. And then something changed me. It was like an epiphany moment. Maybe I’ll write about that in separate article.
The only reason I mention it is because it gives more a more unbiased, neutral view of what is actually going on in the world today. It’s a bit of a worry, because I, like many other middle-aged and older people can see civil unrest arising in the UK and elsewhere in Europe within a very short time period. Have a look for yourselves; you are at each others’ throats!
Can you imagine if there were more people present? Am I mistaken, or has there been 1 million people on opposite sides protesting/demonstrating In London within the last week? You cannot afford to have the possibility of ~2 million people who essentially hate (or don’t understand) each other, coming together on the same day. It won’t end well. I’ve never seen anything like this before in my entire life! I am 42.
Maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about, but you’re already passed the civil resistance stage, technically already in the civil disobedience stage. Behaviour like this is not even remotely ‘normal’. Many lefties have forgotten about the reality of war. They (you) are a much younger demographic. They may not even have grandparents who have lived through a real global war. They’re probably all dead. It seems the horrors of a true global war have now been forgotten.
The next stage is civil disorder. Then the government could put a curfew in place (for your own safety), which people may or may not choose to ignore. By that stage I suppose you’d reach once-in-a lifetime events like martial law. That’s about as fun as it sounds. And finally –the even uglier– civil war.
I think one side sees environmental destruction as the biggest long-term threat (and so they should and essentially my whole blog is about that which you can clearly see) and the other side is more worried about immigration leading to increasing levels of violence in the short-term future possibly leading to a global cultural war between devout (sharia) Islam and the West. And rightly so!
Except they are not even allowed to talk about it with lefties because they have their fingers stuck firmly in their ears while singing “LA-LA-LA” like an annoying little 5 year old. And even if the left did’t have human cheese fingers stuck in their ears, both sides could easily lose their job for merely “having an opinion”. For speaking (which is shit).
How did we get to this point? It’s not political correctness, it’s political corrrection. It’s telling other people what they can and can’t say. Which sounds to me more like Stalinism. Free speech rights are quickly eroding, and the right are acutely aware of it. It’s blatant censorship.
Smart political parties will tackle both issues simultaneouly. I think if UKIP got off their arse and did some proper branding work then (and only then) they could, just possibly, even win a general election. I think. People want change, and neither side is getting it.
The right are rightly concerned about immigration. Specifically, muslim immigration. The left think that the right are “racist” and “islamophobic”. From everything I’ve researched in the last two weeks, hundreds of hours of research (I used to be a scientist so I like to reseach things in depth), I think they have every reason to be!
I’m a bit different to them. I am generation X, but my father was born in in 1926. If he was alive today, he would be 93 years old. With age comes wisdom. Right? He grew up in the East end of London. He lived through WW2. According to him, it wasn’t nice.
My father was training to be a tank driver in one of those really nasty flamethrower tanks (a ‘crocodile’ I think it was called). They carried pressurised napalm in an armoured trailer behind the main tank. He told us he was always worried about it blowing up right behind them. I guess that explains why I now think he might have suffered from an anxiety condition. Anyway, he used to tell us loads of old war stories like that when we were growing up. When there was no internet. We’d get sick of hearing them.
Brexiters on the other hand instinctively know more about this. They see a gradually rising Islamic threat brought about by globalisation. All the policial correctness in the world isn’t going to ever make them submit to sharia law. It’s a fact that many muslims out there want to enact sharia law. In the Est, I can tell you that there will be a bloody civil war before that ever happens.
Do devout muslims even realise this, how much we a prepared to defend free speech and equal human rights for all of our citizens (including mobs of angry women and LGBTQIAXYZ people)? Probably not. No one’s ever told them, because they know it could provoke an angry response.
More hate speech is coming from some islamist preachers. They need to be arrested but the British government would rather prosecute and persecute their own citizens who call out this two-tiered policing system (which itself arises from too much “political correctness”, in order to appease muslims and improve community rlations).
And before you start, let’s face it, the word “islamophobia” has been thoroughly exploited by muslims to get whatever they want. Let’s be honest, it’s been milked to death (“no offence”). It has. I don’t have islamophobia, I have “daeshophobia”, okay? And so should everyone.
Radicalised muslims are spoiling for a fight, brazenly holding up placards that “islam will dominate the world” (that’s true “hate speech”, prosecute them!!). The BBC news are purposely trying to frame Tommy Robinson in a bad light. News media now clearly very biased on that issue. Brexit is not happening. People are beyond frustrated, but they can’t even voice their opinions in public anymore. People are angry. And no wonder.
Technology is not the solution
I think what most scientists aren’t willing to admit is that science and technology alone are not really the answer. Science and technology is actually what got us here in the first place (or the inappropriate use of technology anyway). I personally think the ‘solution’ lies in simply doing less, not more. Because for each new invention, there is always some unintended consequence. And more energy is always required.
We *already* have a ‘machine’ that can take carbon dioxide out of the air, assemble itself, grow by itself, regenerate itself, replicate itself. It gives us oxygen. It’s nice to look at. It’s even solar powered. It’s a tree. I think the best thing that we can do is plant more trees, not chop them down. If people are too lazy to plant a seed now and then, then there is basically no hope for us. Because it’ll be way harder to make a synthetic forest. Way harder.
I think that there have only really been a dozen truly remarkable (and harmless) inventions. The first one is no doubt the sail boat. The next one is the humble bicycle. Another one is the solar panel. And that’s about it really. That’s all I can think of.
PART IV: “Sometimes we get so tired of waiting for a way to spend our time”
When they eventually did return our phones, it was under a strong proviso. We had to sign a type of non-disclosure agreement/contract before we could even touch them:
Absolutely no photographs under any circumstances, and especially not of anyone or their face (they made that explicity clear); no social media use at all; and finally not reveal anyone other patients’ identity to anyone, not while inside or even after being released. The nurse eyed the high-dependency ward as they explained the importance of adherence to these additional set of rules and regulations. Non-compliance meant there would be no second chances… no further privileges… privileges revoked… I even think they explained that to us too… I still managed to pop off a shot or two of my bedroom when no one was looking…
And so they are in complete control. It was around this point that I realised that there was literally nothing I could do about my situation. That I was not in control anymore. And that I simply had to accept where I was. From this point on, I think I was more concerned about eliminating this great sense of underlying boredom that I was feeling more than enacting any of my suicidal thoughts.
Even so, I was in such a state of shock, that for several days I didn’t even realise there was an art therapy room! It adjoined the main room, located right next to the kitchen. It was always locked and we had to ask for it to be opened (on the inside, you had to ask for everything). It was very rudimentary, but it was an extra space I could go. I could not look at the acrylic paints (too brightly coloured) or the paintbrushes (mangled), but the coloured pencils were more than satisfactory.
I discovered this beautiful artwork buried under a mound of papers. This was the best art in the whole establishment! Clearly this is someone who is very creative, very talented. This artwork inspired me in a big way. I would very much like to know who drew it.
I started by sharpening all of the pencils because about half of them were blunt — all except black, because there was no black pencil. One day, I began to draw with the pencils. I was drawing on the shittiest paper imaginable. It was more like the paper that you use to wash your hands with after going to the toilet. Yet it felt so good to be finally doing something constructive.
I could feel myself becoming more creative. I mainly drew things that I had drawn before. Because I didn’t have any references to go off (no internet). I drew in little patches. Over the course of three days I added more and more. It had nearly finished and there was a small empty patch at the top left.
The next day they took over half of the pencils away! So I felt like I wasn’t able to finish; I couldn’t, because only half the pencils were left! The thing is, artists like their colours. How can they leave us without the red, blue and black?! Two of them are primaries!
I was forever asking and asserting for them to return the red and blue pencils because there was no red and blue ones left. “The black I can sort of understand because they were not here to begin with”, I proclaimed. A male nurse who was sitting with me said I was getting “agitated” — “I’m not agitated, I’m frustrated”, I quickly contended. I mean it’s a bit like asking a musician to play a guitar that is missing three strings! Isn’t it? He just didn’t seem to get it at all. He told me that it wasn’t a university equipped art room. I knew that. Of course. Still, it bothered me.
It occurred to me later that maybe I could learn something about myself from this encounter. I mean, it seems to me that art is very important to me. For others, it is clearly not. So I realise now that this –art– is something I care about, something I’m passionate about, much moreso than your average Joe.
It dawned upon me that the illustration shown above is a beautiful piece of art –although it only has four colours in it. Well I already knew about using limited colour palettes in art, but not in the sense of having half my palette inadvertently taken away from me. I started thinking about using the tools at hand. I’ve seen popular TV shows where professional photographers are forced to use the crappiest cameras imaginable. And they invariably still come up with fantastic photographs. I was also reminded about something my dad used to say: “a poor workman blames his tools”. From then on, I pretended that the lack of available hues was an intentional choice; for my next drawing, I used just three colours.
Was I being an OCD wanker about the pencils? I don’t know. You tell me. It’s totally okay now though because it made me more aware of what is important to me, my passion, my aptitude, my creative ability, my drawing skill. Some people care, other’s don’t.
One item they returned sooner than the other [electronic] ones was my Illustration book written by Andrew Hall. I was extremely glad to have something like that to continue reading. I guess they don’t see books as any kind of danger to mentally ill people?
One day, I forget which one, I took two packets of biscuits at afternoon tea time. Because there were only three biscuits to a pack! And I thought six biscuits was a fairly reasonable number to eat. One of the security nurses saw me and told me to put it back. I hadn’t even sat down. I swooped around and back it went – back into the same bowl from whence it came! The whole time, they were eyeing us like hawks. This is what I had to endure…
After about four or five days, I had talked to all but one of the patients at length. Mainly because the nurses were essentially too busy for more than a 5 minute chat. At first I didn’t know whether they were violent patients or not. So I was curious about that (for my own safety). But it turns out that they were all such a great bunch of people. All of them.
After speaking to an older, wiser nurse for almost 15 minutes, I was able to turn the experience around and look at it for what it really was: an acute rehabilitation center. She recommended trying to take what you can from the experience, to ask “what can I get out of it?”.
The next meeting was my third assessment, with two psychiatrists present, one of them new. Number three psychiatrist was a female and I really opened up to her about my childhood. I was to be released “either tomorrow or the day after”.
By this stage, I was talking to new people and slowly improving (my psychologist had previously told me I was too isolated). I was going to bed and waking up at the right time. I was eating a wider range of foods than before. But most importantly, I was talking to other people who shared the same views as mine. I was not alone. In fact I decided to stay a few extra days.
All in all I stayed a total of eight days inside that pyschiatric hospital ward. Others had been in there anything from one day, to one month (and in one case, five months). Towards the end of my penultimate day, the same porky pyschiatrist came into my room and asked me the exact same question, just like he had asked me the week before. This time, I answered ‘no’. No I wasn’t suicidal.
The good news is that I do feel more optimistic upon exiting the facility. My motivation level is improved. I haven’t had any further suicidal thoughts. Maybe the lesson here is that we shouldn’t be so quick to make generalised assumptions about how our future lives are going to turn out?
No one came to pick me up from the hospital, but I was well enough to catch the bus home. I must say that my newfound sense of freedom felt very strange after being locked up for more than a whole week. I was waiting at the bus stop and wondered whether to buy a snack for the journey home. In the end, I decided not to. Just knowing that I could buy something without having to ask anyone anything made me smile.
I did some further reading about that place a few weeks later. And it turns out that no one has ever died in that facility. Not for any reason. So maybe Mister PorkFace was right after all? Maybe it was a safer place to be after all, if only temporarily?
And when you said that no one’s listening
Why’d your best friend drop a dime?
Sometimes, we get so tired of waiting for a way to spend our timeAxl Rose, Coma GNR.
“Who speaks for Earth?”
- « Previous Page
- 1
- …
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- …
- 71
- Next Page »