Bitter Truth

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‘O England, you’re my home, you’re my heart’s heart, crashing thunder of love.’ – England my Home, The Levellers.

In the sunlight out there I can almost believe those words. Leaves are mostly out now on all the trees on the hillside, blue sky, sunshine hitting the front of the house behind me and cutting through the gloom. If it hadn’t been for the News this morning I could argue there’d be a sense of hope for the day. I can’t bring myself to type it all, but that filthy egomaniac – Trump – has fired the head of the FBI. I want to bang my hands on this desk then throw something through the window in front of me. But I won’t go on about Trump this morning. Counterproductive. Not helping anyone.

Nothing helps. I voted last week and look what happened there. The Tories whitewashed the whole thing with psychological fear soundbites, and the media sucked the whole thing in. Elections aren’t about doing the right thing, telling the people what you genuinely believe, they are about shoehorning people into power by any means you can. And we are stupid; too stupid to tell a good man from a bloated corpse wrapped around a corporate owned death machine. I voted Green party, for all the good it did me. A rabid dog has more chance of winning a seat around here than the Green party. And this rotten borough won’t change until people are choking on the air and fighting with each other for scraps of roadkill. But by then it’ll all be too late anyhow, eh. I’m pissing into a tornado and I’ll never get my hands on the Ruby Slippers. So why worry? Why make the thing harder for myself? Float along with the rest of the deluded trash. Give up.

But that’s all crazy and paranoid talk. Still, you vote Green and you almost rubber stamp your diagnosis here in the UK. Anti-war pro-social people who don’t like what we’re doing to the environment don’t get anything except their own quiet space in a local pub. And smirking glances. And few friends.

Doing what’s right means you lose.

Ok. Is that enough for us both to tolerate this morning? I think it is.


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