You have these conversations with folk in the pubs sometimes, wherein immediately, and by those of a similar age to myself, and who most likely attend college or university, instantly decry you as a racist if you so much as voice an opinion that is against such a thing as mass immigration, or interventions, or of the sending out of foreign aid or whatever. They seem to suddenly wall themselves off then, and almost shut down, as though their own fragile sense of self and world view are such, that even the merest whisper of a pragmatic, or detached observation on the current climate and its causation’s and effects, is somehow going to herald in an apocalypse in the form of Nazi’s atop four flying panzers.
It’s ridiculous, and it’s pathetic, and it’s infuriating, that a group of grown men and women can’t just sit in a pub and shot the shit for a time, without a number swooning at only the most flirtatious of forays into the world of politics. When did men stop being men, and start being limp-wristed half-men and weaklings? I’m in my mid-twenties, and even I remember a time before this sudden reversal in society’s advancement, and that is what this is; the degradation of society through censorship, fascism and the self-aggrandizing egotistical need of some to have their own ingrained narcissism cloaked as virtuousness; where no one person can seem to look outside of the rhetoric force-fed them by those desperate to seem heroic or worth something, and who so take the easiest root to this position in the form of conceited virtue signaling. They don’t have to fight for it, and really face no danger, nor hardship. They are heroes for the sake of all around them fearing nonexistent conflict. They are raised aloft on shaking shoulders by others who draw strength from a movement that is inherently compromised by weak individuals, and so thrusts them no further against anything that would truly be worth fighting against. Simply put, they are cowards who try and look big and brave flailing at monsters entirely of their own design.
Whelp; Just this past week, in fact, I happened to have taken an impromptu sojourn down through to Auld Reekie; not the cheapest place for a simple man to find a drink mind you; but there I found myself nonetheless. Now, for those of you unfamiliar with that particular city, Edinburgh is wonderful; historically, and architecturally. Yet; were it not for the odd Saltire or tacky gift shop, then one would be hard pressed to declare the city as of Scotland at all; tourists everywhere, and accents, wherein no two are alike, gathered in squares, and collected from all around the world. It’s a cosmopolitan city, like London, only prettier, safer, and, well, better. Anyway; I arrived their early, and got to the drinking likewise. And soon I found myself in the company of a handful of students; artsy types with pube-like goatees and foppish haircuts mid-way between styled and wind-tussled; not exactly the sort of folks in whose circles I would usually walk, but the afternoon started out well enough I suppose; a wee bit o’ banter, banal chatter and some laughing here and there, but then, the conversation soon encroached upon the fringes of politics, and where suddenly, all of these sallow, sunken eyed vegans all at once became the liberal equivalents of Alex Jones; only without the endearing guilelessness that make his mad rants amusing.
There was talk of Brexit, of course, and of the EU; Syria and the resulting refugee crisis; the usual fodder for such lofty patrons to dissect, as was my company, and whose very identity as students alone, seemed to compel them to the highest echelon of obnoxiousness even before the first drink. Now all of this I could tolerate, for I have much to say on these things also, and yet; sitting there in a nice pub in Scotland’s fair capital, I was soon subjected to ill-informed, half-hearted and stunted ramblings on, and misguided understandings of one, Donald J Trump, and by a group of sickly looking students, who, at several points would pause, needing prompts and coaxing from the others when the limits of their understandings and opinion were found wanting after the first reiteration of the buzz lines circulating within their Facebook feeds; Donald Trump; who has nothing to do with them, nor I; Donald Trump, a man from another country who has no effect on their day to day lives, whatsoever. Oh what an absorbing and cerebral discourse it proved to be.
Now, what is my point here, and why did this annoy me so much? Good question and I’ll tell you. It annoys me because it has nothing to do with us. Whoever is in the Whitehouse has absolutely no effect on Scotland whatsoever! None at all; it’s all but virtue signaling and the vapid, self-absorbed circle-jerking of ones ego in the eyes of a castrated choir preaching the same hymn to affect outrage at his being elected. And also, I just can’t abide shallow parasites. Now look; America doesn’t care about Scotland all that much, and truth be told, Scotland doesn’t care all that much about America; in the same way as we don’t really bother with Papua New Guinea, or the Antarctic; we are but ships in the night, not wishing harm upon the other, but just indifferent in the passing, and not all that interested in dropping anchor and hopping aboard the others vessel. There is no ill will behind it, but America is, simply put, a behemoth content to stomp about its hill for a time, whereas we are the foxes whom have no real business commenting on the affairs of giants. And so who are these idealistic liberals to congratulate one another’s self-serving opinions born of the most basic of sound bites parroted as they heard them on the news that morning, to be so quick to proclaim virtue and honesty, love and compassion, and yet descend upon me with feeble claws the instant I should deviate from their indoctrinated path?
“Donald Trump’s a fascist” One sneered, yet offered no substantial proof to that effect. “Really? But he isn’t the one punching people, or clubbing their skulls in with bike-locks because they espouse a different opinion” I replied, in that same flat, vaguely incredulous tone of voice one would adopt if conversing with a drunk houseplant. “He’s racist” Came another; the pretentious little shits eyes bloodshot, yet no less menacing beneath his dandy fringe of curly brown hair. “How?” I speared. “Cause of the ban; man…” He parried deftly; unaware that Barack Obama did the exact same thing previously. And when he was told of this, well, up went the blinkers and down came the fascist soviet hammer, though admittedly in the fashion of a tired old dog sitting in the park and refusing to move; to scoot an inch in any one direction as its owner tugs and coaxes gently at the leash, as I was apt to have found myself then attempting, and all the while thinking who cares, and, why are we even talking about this shit? And, what has any of this nonsense got to do with us? In my attempt at remaining impartial and objective, it was I who was painted as the fascist, and it was I who was deemed the bigot for not taking up their outrage, and for playing devil’s advocate so as to ingratiate topics and points into the conversation by which to enliven and expand it into something interesting and thought provoking.
Side note: Not once did I challenge any opinion vomited fourth, but simply offered a differing one. I was respectful, and only slightly sarcastic, and never raised my voice above a speaking level when addressing any of these rabid little runts. And yet, these principled and virtuous souls were comfortable with yelling and shouting me down when I was presumptuous enough to offer up an actual verifiable fact to the contrary of that currently farted out into their echo chamber. I should also note that I was the only one in that booth who appeared robust enough to overcome constipation, without blowing my rib cage and spine out through my arsehole in the process.
Anyway, let’s get back on with my tortured dog metaphor; a dog needs discipline, and if you baby it, it won’t listen, nor respect you. You have to be both fair, and firm. You don’t pussy-foot around a stubborn dog like it’s a baby taking its first teetering steps, and so neither should you pussy-foot around faux intellectuals and half-men who see merit in subservience and cowardice, and who couldn’t look their own cock in the eye if they needed to drink their own piss to stave of dehydration in the desert! And so, the point of this meandering, and somewhat rambling rant is this: I just don’t understand what’s happening to my generation. When I was under twenty, all the lads wanted to be seen as men, and most of the lassies wanted to be with a man. There was none of this degenerative and regressive bullshit back then, folk just got on with their daily lives and didn’t take too much offence to every little fucking thing that happened to irk them that day. I don’t want this American phenomenon of SJW half-men infecting Scotland with its insidious, rotten, and hypocritical ideology. But, I understand that America exports its culture worldwide; cheeseburgers, fries, milkshakes, and Hollywood blockbusters and whatnot; and that’s all fantastic! But for God sake; Keep that abhorrent and emasculating dogma to yourselves lads, because quite frankly; it’s fucking embarrassing.
And so, I couldn’t believe that there I was, in Scotland, and listening to these insufferable idiots drone on with barely a constructive argument among them; and I looked at them and thought; you know what, this world is going to eat you all alive; but then realized that no, in fact, it isn’t, because this is the way the world is actually heading; effeminate men too afraid to ask a girl out, and women who think being overweight is a good thing; wee bairns being told they’re fairy’s and he-she’s and all manner of sundry other fanciful things, when they should be told what they are firmly, and leave the soul searching and identity crisis’s for a time when their brains are fully developed enough for them to process the multitude of urges and emotions, hormones and psychological conundrums such thoughts must surely bear.
Now listen; I’m all for equality among the sexes, and of gay marriage; each to their own; do what feels right, and be who you gotta be, and all that. My belief is that one should live one’s life, and do so in a manner which makes life worth living in the first place. I don’t care if your gay or straight, transgender or whatever; I simply don’t care; that is, as long as you don’t try and force it down my throat and make trouble where no such trouble occurs. You aren’t freedom fighters battling against a tyrannical oppressor. You aren’t civil rights campaigners risking life and freedom in a dire struggle to pursue equal rights and liberty. You don’t face any adversity that can’t be overcome by hard work and the setting and following of personal goals. You are just a bunch of whiny little shits with too much free time on your hands, and who are fortunate enough to live in countries where your sniveling rhetoric is tolerated. Get over yourselves, get a job, and maybe try and contribute to changing society in a meaningful way, say, as a soldier, or a UN peacekeeper, or as a politician who can actually affect change in a rundown or deprived area. But no; that would be too much like hard work now, wouldn’t it?
‘Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth’– Matthew 5:5. And right enough! And has the Bible ever prophesied a more concrete conclusion in all its years than that particular doozy?