Popular Front to Build for The New 1945 needs your help, and we're up against the clock on this one.
I get pessimism and despair. I do.
Meaning that I can dig them - by which I mean that in the sense in which I "get" them, I recognise and appreciate them for what they are, meaning that I understand their nature and their role , as well as utility - as opposed to the "I often experience them" sense of getting them.
Or at least, with less and less frequency I have found at any rate, at least of late - long may it continue, God Wi77ing.
I have known, and I know depression, imimately.
Biblically, you might say.
She remains with me in all places and times as an old and constant friend with rare and highly dubious, yet undeniable benefits.
And she's always there, just out of sight, lying in wait to pounce right on top of my head and try with all her strength to f**k me as mercilessly as she can, regular as clockwork, as soon as I sense complacency or contendedness looming, as soon as she senses a gap or a breech in my vilgiance opening or the minute she calculates that my guard has begun to sag or started to slacken down.
But we all each have our demons and she just happens to be mine - in the Chymical Wedding that occupies what I suppose must pass for my brain, we're joined at the hip and stuck with one another now, no matter how much we might tear at one another and try to wage unholy war for momentary, transient domination and subjugation of the other, neither one of us is going to get anywhere, so much as a single step away on our own against the wishes, will and consent of the other. Til Death Us Do Part.
It's after all isn't her fault, after all, not really.
She can't help being what she is any more than I can choose to be what I am, within a certain bandwidth of degrees of freedom of choice, at least for the time being, and I realise now, my future options and odds-on likely best hope to achieve my next Level-Up are just a complete non-starter, ball-breaking deal-breaker unless I can ensure her complete cooperation, take a firm grasp on my Depression, break it to my will and keep it on a tight leash - which turns out to be very fortuitous that I was able to achieve this milestone of self-discovery in order to reach this key resolution as firmly and concretely as I have, given the fact that she's actually really into all of that, as luck would have it... The filthy, witchy little wenchy whoremongering slut of a hell spawned succubus that she is - I don't see why that should even have come as a surprise. Not that it did, as in fact turned out.
So I live with depression every waking minute of my day, and for as long as I can remember, and will until the day that I die, and probably even after beyond that - she'll try her damnedest (literally) to drag me back down to Hell with her and lie for all enternity caught locked in her excruciating embrace, lost an entangled forever in her arms and by her legs where she is free to inflict upon me never-ending pain and spiritual torment and agony, as she tortures me so exquistly, like a small boy savouring the pure thrill and relish of the experience of power of slowly pulling each of the legs off of a captured and terrified spider, stretched out over the course of an æon.
If instead, I succeed instead in dragging her up behind with me by a collar or her hair only so far Up as even one of Mormon Heavens, it'll have some sense of victory at least, or so it seems like, on days when I feel as though I'm tiring. Like today, actually.
I can't lie to you and pretend that Mormon heaven wouldn't be a disappointing achievement, should I end up making it there, but consider all the extra weight I'm carrying here on the journey, not to mention the endless setbacks, complications and distractions that have to be dealt with in turn, as the arise (and they will) en route along the way.
All of which also applies with reference to Degree, Mum and Dad, by the way, if you somehow are reading this right now - I know how it sounded, and I realise that it wasn't quite what you had expected of me (admittedly, to be fair, not that you had actually, y'know, TOLD me what you had expected of me, either at or, - ideally - y'know, sufficiently and generously ahead of such time as I might have been still able to actually, y'know do something about it, but never mind), but I forgive you.
A 2:2 is what it is and I Yam What I Yam, and knowing that and those things and all the rest , I know that I did well.
Michelle from Eastenders got a Third.
And she wasn't dragging a malevolent daemon halfway up her hill as she went, she just shagged Dirty Den and had his iligitimate teenage love-child... In which case, actually, I retract that last critical completely.
A Christian Demon may be a Djinn or malevolent spirit, or a fallen and disembodied Angel sworn to plague men's souls in service to Lucifer or The Enemy, but a Greek or Hellenistic Dæmon is guardian animal, some supernatural beast or monster brought forth into The Flesh, as a created creature of the Olympian gods to protect and keep safe some great horde of treasure, some secret roadway or path, or some equally precious and valuable thing, as like the gorgon Medusa and her two sisters, the Gryphons and millions-strong swarms of wingèd serpents of Scythia that guard the Crimean Tree at the End of the World from which hung the GoldenFleece of the epic ode of Jason and the Argonauts, the Giant Ants of India that dig up Gold dust out of the sands of the earth, or the man-eating ThracianSphinx of the tragedies of OedipusRex, the she-monster lying in wait by the side of the road, waiting to devour any who failed to answer her cryptic riddle and supply her with the correct passwords.
I didn't understand it then, but now I do - my depression is a part of me, a part of who I am.
It is me - an equal and opposite aspect of me gone mad, created to protect me, to keep me safe, mindless, savage, pure instinct, a legendary, deathly dark black, monstrous vision of me and all that I am, that I made up somewhere, some time, for some reason a lifetime or maybe more ago, like some kind of psychic Doomsday Device to marshall all of my strength and will and courage and rage to fight myself free from some place and time and situation where there seemed as though there was absolutely no last shred of hope left, as I was being backed down into a corner, checkmated in every direction, with no room to manuvere, no end in sight, no other way out, no options open and no help on the way and no cards left to me to play.
Probably, I assume, or I am guessing, that at or before (I must have been) around the age of six (back when I was still counting birthdays [ like that matters ]), I can only conclude, having given it much thought and rumination in order seek out, hunt, stalk and chase down each of the clues that have led me to reconstruct this particular Truth, that reveals to me the Origin Story of my Dark Heart and the Blackness that encircles the very centre of my soul......
[I'm] a walking study,
In Dæmonologie...
If we can survive 5 years under Winston Churchill's 1-Party State during the Blitz, Wartime Austerity, a Police State and Rationing, I am prepared to suffer through a similar fate to bring on the new 1945 and the next NHS.
Britons Can Take It.
You've just named the core leadership of Churchill's Cabinet in the One Party State of 1940-45.
Clement Attlee led the Churchillian Coup of May 1940 as the ranking member of New Welcome Lodge No. 5139, created at the behest of the Head of British Masonry at that time, the Nazi Prince of Wales.
As for Nye Bevan - as for how he was able to get the Doctors, GPs and crucially, the British Medical Association on-side and on-message and on-board with the NHS in the first place : "I stuffed their mouths with Gold."
He paid them off.
The BMA is also, as one would obviously imagine for such a ruling class institution, somewhat Masonic...
Don't misunderstand me - training, studying and qualifying as a junior doctor is expensive, lengthy, stressful and incredibly hard work.
But there is a galaxy of difference between the labour intensity, over-work and burden of professional responsibility a junior doctor on a ward working overtime, understaffed back-to-back irregular shift patterns in A&E, a surgeon or specialist and a General Practitioner with a cosy private county practice.
They basically get £100-150,000 a year from the State to essentially perform the same tasks as a skilled administrator, perform triage, risk assessment and make referrals and pastoral care.
Because of the way it was negotiated in 1947, in a such a damned, chaotic, heist-like rush.
That was such a worthy caper, the Lavender Hill Mob would have been proud to have pulled it off.
GPs essentially have picked up much of the slack left behind by taking on the major aspects of the functions formerly provided and carried out by the parish vicar prior to 1940.
And vicars generally don't cost the public purse £150 grand a year (plus final salary pension).
Junior Doctors and front line emergency staff (which mean NURSES AND AMBULANCE DRIVERS, too) ought to earn A LOT MORE.
But the money has never been there for anything other than below poverty-level wages, training or recruitment because the General Practioners TAKE so much and contribute so much LESS.
All this furore over The Tory Government vs. The Junior Doctors is nothing but The Pledge towards The Prestige, when that was never the issue - The Turn has always pivoted around question of the real battle it has always been between The General Practioners and the Nurses et al. over All The Money as to who gets to keep the heat on and eat meals that come in tins vs. who gets to grow laconically rich and upwardly mobile, socially.
That's why we need a NEW 1945.
Better than the last one, better prepared (we've got the next 5 years to get it right), coolly calculated rather than patched and cobbled together out of desperation and pieces of old sticky-tape and string, free from all of the dangerous compromises embedded, deep-rooted within the core foundations of the first one.
The Wise learn by studying the mistakes and errors of others.
Don Corleone's patròn swore "I believe in America".
Sod that for a lark - why not try believing in yourself, your friends and neighbours and going out to try and inspire them to feats of grandeur?
So how about we all just agree between ourselves to say that we each affirm that I believe in you, you can have confidence in me, so roll up yer sleeves y'great jessie, ye, and come on and let's all get stuck in, lad.
There's work as needs doin'.
"This time, there'll be a THIRD Covenant - and it's going to be written by each and every one of you.
— he had seen the figure of himself which met him as he walked on the terrace and said to him
— “How long do you mean to be content”
— No very terrific words & certainly not prophetic of what has occurred. But Shelley had often seen these figures when ill; but the strangest thing is that Mrs Williams saw him.
Now Jane, though a woman of sensibility, has not much imagination & is not in the slightest degree nervous — neither in dreams or otherwise.
She was standing one day, the day before I was taken ill, [June 15] at a window that looked on the Terrace with Trelawny — it was day — she saw as she thought Shelley pass by the window, as he often was then, without a coat or jacket — he passed again — now as he passed both times the same way — and as from the side towards which he went each time there was no way to get back except past the window again (except over a wall twenty feet from the ground) she was struck at seeing him pass twice thus & looked out & seeing him no more she cried —
“Good God can Shelley have leapt from the wall?…. Where can he be gone?”
Shelley, said Trelawny — “No Shelley has past — What do you mean?”
Trelawny says that she trembled exceedingly when she heard this & it proved indeed that Shelley had never been on the terrace & was far off at the time she saw him. [emphasis added]
A map of the 1814 and 1816 journeys taken by Mary Shelley, Percy Shelley, and Claire Clairmont.
Based on the map found in The Novels and Selected Works of Mary Shelley. Vol. 8.
Ed. Jeanne Moskal. London: William Pickering, 1996, pg. 10.
The 1814 trip is represented by a dotted line and the 1816 trip is represented by a solid line. Green dots indicate towns visited or stayed at during the 1816 trip, which ended in a three-month stay at Lake Geneva.
Red dots indicate towns visited or stayed at during the 1814 trip.
Black dots indicate towns not visited but perhaps helpful to the reader.
The source map does not indicate what route the Shelleys used on the return trip to England for the 1816 trip.
"Ah, well, it's 1979.... More of a Table Wine, you might say...."
" A vote of no confidence in the British Labour Government of James Callaghan occurred on 28 March 1979.
The vote was brought by Opposition leader Margaret Thatcher and was lost by the Labour Government by one vote (311 votes to 310), which was announced at 10:19 pm, forcing a general election which was won by Thatcher’s party.
The last time an election had been forced by the House of Commons was in 1924, when Ramsay MacDonald, the first Labour Prime Minister, lost a vote of confidence.
Labour politician Roy Hattersley was later to remark that the vote marked “the last rites” of ‘old Labour’.
Labour would not return to government for another 18 years. The BBC has referred to the vote as “one of the most dramatic nights in Westminster history”. "
This is Not the Same Person
Britain First is a membership organisation and a political party. This is not like the IRA or the Masons, they DO hand out membership cards. He hasn't got one.
This man in custody is a member of no political party.
When NATO Intelligence and MI6 wanted to murder Airey Naeve, they had to invent INLA to do it.
They weren't like 5, they couldn't penetrate the IRA and trick them into murdering Mountbatten and publicly accepting the blame for it;
You ask 99% of people that have ever even heard of Airey Naeve, they will tell you "Oh, the IRA blew him up" - that was never even CLAIMED to be true. And it isn't true.
Airey Neave was assassinated on March 30 1979 as he drove out of the Palace of Westminster car park by a car bomb detonated using a mercury tilt switch. The Irish National Liberation Army (INLA) claimed responsibility for the operation and paraphrasing Margaret Thatcher, they stated that,
''He was an 'incalculable loss'—and so he was—to the British ruling class.''
Although Neave was killed a few weeks before Thatcher's successful election, he was poised to take up the position of Northern Ireland secretary within Thatcher's cabinet and had planned to introduce tougher military measures to quell the republican insurgency, including a shoot on sight policy.
Neave was alleged to have also been involved in organising smear campaigns against labour politicians, orchestrated within sympathetic circles of MI5. Tony Benn had also claimed that had he became Labour leader in place of James Callaghan that Neave had planned to have him assassinated.
Furthermore, Searchlight magazine had reported that Neave was involved in organising 'stay-behind' cells in Europe post second world war which would be in theory used to militarily resist, if necessary, a potential Soviet invasion of Western Europe.
In reality many of these groups were various right wing organisations of different hues, including neo-fascist paramilitaries which were involved in sabotage, terrorism and subversion directed towards communist and other left wing movements across Europe. The relationship between European and American intelligence services, politicans and other sections of the bourgeoisie and these stay behind cells only partially emerged in the early 1990s with a parliamentary inquiry launched in Italy.
Here is an excerpt from the 1991 Searchlight article:
''Former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher backed top-secret plans to modernise armed cells that could carry out actions abroad.
This allegation highlights the undoubted fact that the secret networks of the kind proposed under NATO's Stay Behind plans carried on their activities right into the 1980s.
In particular. it is alleged as has long been suspected by Searchlight that the persons involved in the secret armed cells conspiracy included George Kennedy Young, the ex-deputy director of the British intelligence service MI6, and others who had launched Thatcher's campaign for leadership in the mid-1970s. One of these was Airey Neave MP, a top and very close adviser to Thatcher, later murdered by the IRA.
Ex-spymaster Young. a notorious racist and antisemite who died last year. was for many years a key link man between the extreme-right of the Conservative Party and some of Britain's most dangerous and violent neo-nazis.
The vehicle for this liaison, which included contact with individuals connected with the underground fascist elite paramilitary organisation, Column 88, was his own pressure group called Tory Action. David Muire, another former intelligence officer, was using British Movement members as couriers for British Intelligence.
Tory Action, founded by Young and supported by Neave, was also at the centre of a smear campaign, involving the secret services, aimed at discrediting the then Labour Government in Britain in 1975.
Just before the 1979 general election, which brought Thatcher to power. Young and Neave were plotting to use a disinformation campaign against Labour.
In 1987 a former MI6 officer. Leigh Tracey, revealed that Neave had approached him to join a small, highly select group to organise an army of resistance in case Labour won the election.
Seen in the context of Stay Behind, the anti-democratic manoeuvrings of Young and Neave and their connection with efforts to build so-called private armies take on a deeper meaning.
According to The Guardian, the secret armed cells plan existed before Thatcher took office in 1979 and continued until the French secret service attack on a Greenpeace ship in New Zealand in 1985 led to its abandonment.
So far the British Ministry of Defence has remained tightlipped on the whole subject of the terrorist Stay Behind networks, but two former British army generals have confirmed that such plans were operative in Britain.''
"We kidded ourselves for a while that they wouldn't stay, but that's not the reality.
Of course the tendency had been to say, 'let's adopt the multicultural concept and live happily side by side, and be happy to be living with each other'. But this concept has failed, and failed utterly"
- German Chancellor Angela Merkel
"When Captain America died, Americans heard it in an American way : through their media.
When Captain Britain died, the British felt it in their chests."
Once Upon a Time in Northampton...
Yes!
Yes!
The Symbols Come to him!
Now he'll be ONE Idea.
One SYMBOL!
No longer UNCERTAIN!
No longer ONE OF MANY
But LIKE their flag, one thing that contains many!
"All That Has Been Lost : Go And Take It Back."
"WHY DID MAGIC CHOOSE TO BE KEPT HERE?
WITH SUCH A SMALL PEOPLE?
YOU VENERATE THE SMALL. YOU LOOK NO FURTHER THAN YOUR SHORES. YOU MAKE EPUCS OF DOMESTIC TRIVIA.
YOU MOURN YOUR EMPIRE. YOU WHINE AND COMPLAIN.
YOU DO NOTHING."
"YOU ARE THE LAST DEFENDER OF THIS BRIDGE AND THE PRIZE BEYOND.
"I am NOT resisting arrest..!! I am NOT resisting arrest..!!
- Lee Harvey Oswald,
Texas Theatre, Dallas,
22/11/63
"This has to be the most remarkable example of police intuition since the Reichstag fire.
And I don't buy it."
"Jim Garrison",
JFK
“When I pushed my way into the burning building, we had to climb over the bulging hoses of the Berlin fire brigade, although as yet there were few onlookers. A few officers of my department were already engaged in interrogating Marinus van der Lubbe. Naked from the waist upwards, smeared with dirt and sweating, he sat in front of them, breathing heavily. He panted as if he had completed a tremendous task. There was a wild triumphant gleam in the burning eyes of his pale, haggard young face. I sat opposite him in the police headquarters several times that night and listened to his confused stories. I read the Communist pamphlets he carried in his trouser pockets. They were of the kind which in those days were publicly distributed everywhere.
The voluntary confessions of Marinus van der Lubbe prevented me from thinking that an arsonist who was such an expert in his folly needed any helpers. Why should not a single match be enough to set fire to the cold yet inflammable splendour of the Chamber, the old upholstered furniture, the heavy curtains, and the bone-dry wooden panelling! But this specialist had used a whole knapsack full of inflammable material. He had been so active that he had laid several dozen fires. With a firelighter he had set the Chamber aflame. Then he had rushed through the big corridors with his burning shirt which he brandished in his right hand like a torch to lay more fires under the old leather sofas. During this hectic activity he was overpowered by Reichstag officials.
He also confessed to several smaller arson attacks in Berlin, the mysterious cause of which had aroused the attention of the Criminal Investigation Department. Several details suggested that Communist arsonists who had helped him in Neukölln and the Berlin Town Hall might have helped him with the Reichstag. The interrogating officers had pointed their investigations in this direction.
But meanwhile things of a quite different nature had happened. Shortly after my arrival in the burning Reichstag, the National Socialist elite had arrived. Hitler and Goebbels had driven up in their large cars; Göering, Frick and Helldorf arrived. One of Hitler’s chief adjutants came to look for me in the maze of corridors, now alive with the fire brigade and the police. He passed me Göering’s order to appear in the select circle. On a balcony jutting out into the Chamber, Hitler and histrusty followers were assembled. Hitler stood leaning his arms on the stone parapet of the balcony and stared silently into the red sea of flames.
The first hysterics were already over. As I entered, Göering came towards me. His voice was heavy with the emotion of the dramatic moment: ‘This is the beginning of the Communist revolt, they will start their attack now! Not a moment must be lost!’
Göering could not continue. Hitler turned to the assembled company. Now I saw that his face was purple with agitation and with the heat gathering in the dome. He shouted uncontrollably, as I had never seen him do before, as if he was going to burst: ‘There will be no mercy now. Anyone who stands in our way will be cut down. The German people will not tolerate leniency. Every Communist official will be shot where he is found. The Communist deputies must be hanged this very night. Everybody in league with the Communists must be arrested. There will no longer be any leniency for Social Democrats either.’
I reported on the results of the first interrogations of Marinus van der Lubbe – that in my opinion he was a maniac. But with the opinion I had come to the wrong man. Hitler ridiculed my childish view: ‘That is something really cunning, prepared a long time ago. The criminals have thought all this out beautifully; but they’ve miscalculated, haven’t they, Comrades! These gangsters have no idea to what extent the people are on our side. They don’t hear the rejoicing of the crowds in their rat holes, from which they now want to emerge’, and so it went on.
I pulled Göering aside; but he did not let me start. ‘Police on an emergency footing; shoot to kill; and any other emergency regulations which might be appropriate in such a case.’ I said again that a police radio message would be sent to all police stations in his name, putting the police in a state of alert and ordering the arrest of those Communist officials whose imprisonment had been intended for some time in the event of a ban on the Party. Göering was not listening: ‘No Communist and no Social Democrat traitor must be allowed to escape us’ were his last words.
When I met Schneider again I tried to collect my thoughts: ‘This is a mad-house, Schneider, but apart from that the time has come: all Communist and Social Democrat officials are to be arrested, big raids, a state of alert and all that goes with it!’
Schneider forgot the Social Democrats when he passed on Göering’s order as a radio message. When I returned to the ‘Alex’ after midnight it was buzzing like a beehive. The alerted operational battalions of the police stood lined up in long rows in the entrance drives with steel helmets and rifles. While squad vans arrived and whole troops of detectives with registers prepared many years before jumped on the ramps, joined by uniformed officers, the first cars were arriving back at the entrance of the building with dazed prisoners who had been woken up from their sleep."
