Monday, 7 June 2021

Every mining camp should have a hanging tree - makes folks feel respectable

I thought I would go back to blogging at some point, but then 2020 happened.

For what it's worth, while my last post in which I predicted humanitarian disaster for the UK was entirely correct in its central thesis that the NHS is this benighted and backwards nation of despair's one good achievement, I - like everyone else except perhaps the Wuhan Germ Warfare Planning Department THIS IS JOKE PLS DO NOT CANCEL - had no idea how or why this would turn out to be proven true, and yet doctors and nurses are still not worth a 1% pay rise because Britain is an awful country and I am glad it's dying.  Quite frankly, it can't happen soon enough, because I am tired of the white British male's refusal to integrate with modern society.  If they don't like multiculturalism and knowing people's preferred pronouns, they should just clear off and live somewhere else.  Oh no wait they can't because they voted for that Brexit thing.

Anyway, I guess for the good of my mental health I'm writing this blog again.  I only stopped for the good of everyone else's BDUM TISH etc but I mean, what could I really say about The Plague Year that wasn't already being said by far more eloquent others?  The depths of callousness and disregard for human life from the UK's establishment has been as unsurprising as its sociopathic opportunism, but the sadly-dwindling body of genuinely good and caring people of this nation pulled us through despite our best efforts to embrace oncoming disaster and pile bodies high rather than disrupt Business As Usual because we have been conditioned to sooner embrace the deaths of millions than ask for a momentary show of restraint from capitalism.  Sweet jeepers this exercise was supposed to be good for my mental health, but clearly things are already going badly.

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