Word Hunt

Within another fairly short break between gigs tonight. Tired but still optimistic. Even more so.

It has now become an iconic event in itself: this sitting in the quiet of the late night, tapping away at my keyboard while I try to figure out a subject.

Perhaps all of the resignations following Brexit? The leaders who drove Britain into that iceberg are now fleeing like the proverbial rats on the proverbial sinking ship. Let someone else have to clear up the mess they created. It’s appalling but probably not unpredictable. Sticking around might make them have to face up to all the lies they told, whereas pulling out will make the economic chaos look like it’s someone else’s fault… and then in a few years, when the economy is set to recover, they can sweep back on a white horse. Seriously, The New Statesman predicted exactly this tactic more than 25 years ago.

What about the climbing death toll following the bombing in Iraq? Cheery. But there is the fact that this guy nailed the Western reaction to the bombings in Turkey and Iraq. How is it that Isis gets to represent Islam while its thousands of victims do not? There are still (unfortunately) squillions of people in the West who feel that Isis is uniquely a threat to them and is not being condemned or battled by Muslim people in general… which is largely due to the lack of reporting on things like the bombing in Iraq. Isis, and Al Quaeda before them, kill way more Muslims than non-Muslims (around 9:1). Why? Probably because most of the Muslims around them recognise them as nutty political movements and fight them accordingly. So why don’t we talk about it?

That’s a rhetorical question, by the way. You know the answer.

How about the Olympics? Cheerier. The fact that the Russians are banned? It’s like being in the 1980s again. In many more ways than one.

And speaking of the 1980s, all I can think of doing now is watching old episodes of The New Statesman. I swear everything I know about politics I learned from that show.

… Miles to go before I sleep.

 

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