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Friday 21st 50F, heavy overcast and raining steadily and purposefully. Internet back down to 85Mbps.
It stayed dry for my walk to the lanes under a leaden sky. My hands chilled by the damp wind. The pale, Marsh harrier circled over a roadside field. Wings taught and gently upturned for effortless lift.
The two, stone age, tribes have stopped their habitual lobbing of rocks into each other's overcrowded territories. At least for the moment. How many more millennia will it take to win the argument?
This sort of thing always reminds me of male pheasants having a scrap on a busy main road. Totally oblivious to the dangers around them. Their silly plumage flashes gaudily in the sunlight. An easy target for any bloodthirsty potshot or pothead driver. Male dominance over another for the right to breed. As if there was any shortage of breeders, or offspring.
It's always about appearances. The abused, school yard bully. With all his warped cronies against the rest of the world. Never any winners. Same old, same old enemies. Same old, same old, willing victims. Brain washed at the breast. To measure themselves in the light other's imagined perceptions. Rather than what they might have achieved. Given an open mind and cooperative optimism. Peel back the corruption and how do your leaders match up against the pretend battle which keeps them in power?
Borders and territory are imaginary concepts. Built invisibly on old wives' tales, fables and endlessly repeated legend. You can't see the countless conscript's blood from the air. If racism could be monetised, then the worthless, walking trash would all be billionaires. Perhaps they are?
Ask your pathetic leaders not what they hate about your neighbours. Ask them, instead, how they can forgive themselves. For using ancient history as a false crutch. To gaining their tinpot power over your weak, tribal minds.
Fear is the cheapest vote catcher out there. Just look how many abuse and abused the concept. To effortlessly join the game of musical chairs on their endless, gravy train. They live in their palaces with their wily speech writers. While you continue to suffer and serve their will against "the foe."
Without "the struggle" they are powerless to rule a public urinal. Without "the struggle" they could build schools and hospitals and care for the old. Instead of manufacturing crippling and irrecuperable, national debts to filthy rich weapons dealers. Whose generous backhanders always ensure your leaders live the high life. To which, they alone, are royally accustomed.
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