Thursday, 17 January 2013

Come with us on a tour of Blippop's museum of bile.




I watch a lot of politics and a lot of news but recently it has started to bother me; it always annoys me a little, as most things do, but recently I have found myself preferring silence to the television because the rhetoric they spout out is devouring my soul.

The world that the BBC tells us about isn’t a world that exists. It is a world where everyone would lay down their life for the monarchy, where people care about sports, where the lives of insignificant celebrities take up the entirety of our day and where the people of the British Isles, all the saintly single mothers, evil rapist men and hard put-upon working people (who of course are being whipped and beaten by their rich owners) try themselves to drag the country onto the continent by pulling at the cliffs of Dover. This world is full of politicians who are either rich toffs or communist paupers and the police are wonderful angels who would never dream of doing anything wrong, and controlled by a God who shines a light down upon us wonderful Brits and directs us towards the holy act of killing Muslims, the evil guardians of the oil that rightly belongs to us.

But we do not live in this world and the larger than life people who light up our television screens don’t exist in the version of reality that I see outside my window. It’s a fiction. What I see are the people who have never worked a day in their life and never intend to, drunkenly stumbling to the job centre with their fifteen children. The young people who ‘can’t get jobs’ wander past my window screaming and shouting at three in the morning on their way back from bars and wonder why they don’t get past that job interview they somehow got. The people who teach at our universities don’t speak a word of English, even the English lecturers can’t spell, and yet we can do nothing about it because we don’t dare mention nationality anymore. The teachers in schools fight ignorance with a lessening of difficulty and then complain when the students pass.

The politicians wander out of their posh schools and then decide which side of the bread-line they’re going to pretend to be on, while never actually believing that poor people exist and the poor people bully and abuse any person who has more money than them. We’re all too fat, but those of us who aren’t are too thin and although we shouldn’t be allowed to be over a government regulated weight amount we also shouldn’t be subjected to images of people who fulfil these requirements. We shouldn’t smoke, or talk about smoking, but it’s a terrible thing that our pubs are closing. Everybody hops from fad to fad, believing they’re gamers because they play angry birds on the train one day, and then believing they have a book in them the next just because they got cancer. Feminism is allowed, but men are the sexist ones. Music sounds like a person stood in a kitchen banging pots against their useless brain to try and figure out what it’s supposed to do and although we all have no money, we would all buy a house if we could just find one.

It was the same last year; it will be the same next year. It was the same 20 years ago and it will be the same when the world is blown up by America firing a nuke at the last Arabic man on Earth floating across the Atlantic on a fishing boat and declaring, once and for all, the demise of communism. The more I watch the news, the more I realise that the ‘progress’ governments talk about and the stories that the news provides don’t exist on our planet. They’re all just there to keep us happy, like cows on conveyer belts staring at pictures of grass and believing they’re in a field. And like mindless cattle (not to insult our bovine brethren), we eat the disgusting, corrupting bilge they throw our way and carry on miserably ecstatic about the 0.01% predicted growth rise of meaningless three letter abbreviations that represent 6 of 9 national budget/debt prediction models despite not understanding what it is, who’s speaking about it,  what on earth any of it means or, most fundamentally, the simple truth that it means nothing; it’s just another number in an endless line of numbers relating to nothing. Language only relates to itself and not the world, just like numbers; but that’s arguably a tautology because numbers are just a reference system, a language, if you will.

The crazy thing about this is that we don’t need explanatory propaganda films to turn us against people and free thought anymore; we’ve gone deeper than that. We can now be placated with numbers and we don’t even have to be told what they relate to. The pigs have taken over and despite the prosperity of the farm, food dwindles, suffering peaks, the hard-working are sold for glue, the free-thinking are chased away due to the terror of knowledge and freedom they spread and, worst of all, the animals take it all with a pale smile splashed across a gaunt face.

With roughly 48 million televisions sold worldwide a year, that’s one massive network of tentacles spreading their chaos. Cthulhu could scarcely have done better. 

Blippop

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