The Mystic Boat, Odilon Redon
Greetings, Traumavillians. I gather that a few of you still make a pilgrimage here, so I thought I would look in at the old place. As you have probably gathered, I am now associate editor (rather grand, what?) of an online magazine called British Intelligence which can be found at www.british-intelligence.co.uk With the occasional exception, I look after the daily blog there – as well as contributing features, performing general sub-editing duties and, well, whatever else it is that associate editors do. Do drop by. We are a start-up, but I think we have made a solid beginning to what I hope to be a long-term project in a bustling, crowded market-place.
Other than that, ye globe turneth still. I am still firmly convinced that a change is gonna come, and not for better, at least not in the short term. Even the most news-averse among us realises the cyclical nature of economic activity, and if a recession or even a depression hits this time it would in all probability make the Great Depression of 1929 look like a walk in the park. Again, though, I think this is both a beneficial and necessary thing. Much of the woe caused by the modern Left – for they are to blame for the state of the West (as always, ‘Left’ is a multi-faceted trope, a big tent full of grotesqueries and carnival freaks) – is a result of the West being far too rich for its own good and resemble those ridiculous celebrities who command millions of dollars or pounds and still wind up broke. But, once again, I repeat my old mantra; every phoenix requires its ashes from which to rise.
The Left have morphed and changed in my lifetime, but I am in no doubt now that they are the clear and present danger to a healthy, organic society. The gradual realisation swilling round their pig-like intellects that identity politics is the game they should be playing the better to destroy the West has led to some of the carnivalesque behaviour we see on a daily basis. Incidentally, all identities are good for the Left as it creates more victims. The only identities markedly omitted from this inventory are straight white men and Jews, both universally hated by the Left, although they try to disguise their anti-Semitism.
Judging by social media – which is only one indicator among many, it must be stressed – there is a pervasive trait of the Left which stands out like a rubber Johnny machine in Vatican City; they are as thick as mince. And, as with most stupid people who have a social outlet – and you will find this theme running through the 19th-century English novel – they are absolutely convinced of their own rectitude, both in terms of factuality and, in particular, in terms of morality. They are right and they are righteous.
This dogmatism stems, of course, not so much from a desire to be liked and wanted, but a morbid fear of being disliked and unwanted. Nothing scares the Leftist more than the fear of pack rejection.
Which is why you should and must reject them. I know it is easy for me to tell you to shun your workmates. With the exception of a two-month stint with a jet-ski company working for a genuine psychopath, I haven’t worked in four years. I do not count playing guitar and singing in restaurants as work. It is sheer pleasure.
But the Left have to be told, like snot-faced unruly children, that their behaviour is not acceptable in the adult world. We don’t want them around. Unfriend them, but do it in the real world. They are toxic, corrosive and generally a bad lot. Trad, sad, and boring to know.
Leftism is a busted flush but, like a piss-poor shopping channel dedicated to selling the crap that department stores won’t stock, they keep banging away at the same upturned milk-crate, trying to get the intelligent to buy their rubbish, trying to sell tat to those with better things to do.
Don’t allow them to lower the tone of your life.
So, that about wraps it up. I will keep Traumaville open, but, as I say, there is much work to be done at British Intelligence. If you are reading this and have done for some time, you are either a pissant copper, a weird stalky ex-girlfriend, or you genuinely admire some of what I have written in this little outpost of empire. If it is the latter, I hope to see you at www.british-intelligence.co.uk as you will find my stewardship of the rolling blog, Traffic Analysis, much to your taste.
I hope this finds you in good health.