Idle Thoughts

A rant for our times.

It’s been a cunt of a week. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I always thought that Things Are Getting Worse, but even in my most violent spasms of raw pessimism, I never thought things would get this bad this fast. 

It’s not just the riots. I mean, it is, because the naked fact that a significant chunk of our alleged society is so alienated that they turn against it can only be interpreted as the symptom of an extraordinary malaise. 

But it was more the response that got to me. The hate of the rioters was reflected perfectly back to them by almost everyone else in society. The calls for revenge dressed in the clothing of justice. From David Cameron (who is a cunt) on down, the revolting calls to strike back at them as they struck at us sickened me. Condemnation. Severe punishment. Hate. The defining characteristics of modern-day Britain are hate and greed. Fuck you all, I’m looking out for me, and I’ll strike down upon thee with furious anger should you threaten that.

Jedem das Seine - mir das Meiste.

We’re even forbidden from trying to understand this rift in society, earning accusations of riot apologia and pop psychology when we do so. Well, fuck that. If there’s any corner in the expanse of the human condition which isn’t fit to be understood by us, then we’re all ready for the ice floe.

Nobody has any fucking idea what to do. Our elites have failed, and the laity aren’t much better. The glee with which the #riotcleanup was greeted underscores the absence of any other concrete action we can take. The anarchist in me is pleased by by the bottom-up organisation of these actions, but, really, anyone can push a broom down the street. Beyond that, what is anyone doing? What can anyone do?

I hear rumours now of the English Defense League using the riots as cover for their own racist projects. This scares me. Not 70 years after we spent literally millions of lives to beat down fascism the last time it raised its head above the parapet, we’ve got fucking brownshirts on the streets of England. Fuck. FUCK.

This weekend, I’m getting a bottle of the finest scotch, and shall drink it while diligently ignoring every source of news. It’s the only thing to do.