Reap the whirlwind

The Twitter share price has been in a forty five degree nosedive since 4th January, long before the current round of de-platforming and account deletion hit. So obviously the clever money is on the move. Fortunately, for those who bought in during their October dip, there’s still time to get while the getting is good.

Personally, I still regard the Alphabet / Twitter / Facebook shares as ‘bubble stocks’ And forgive me for not being a stock market expert, but I would have put in my sell order on Friday when the news of deleting Trumps account hit. I mean, how thick do you have to be to let your politics get in the way of profits? It wasn’t that long ago when some opined that Twitter et al were like betting on a three legged horse in a steeplechase. And if you bought in earlier in the year, there is still time to cash out while the cashing is good.

Might even stop using Amazon too. If Mr Bezos wants to play politics with his companies share price, I’ll be going elsewhere for my online purchasing. Don’t get me wrong, I was quite a fan of Amazon marketplace, but now? Not so much.

Tech stocks are proving, like in the first tech crash to be ‘surfer’ stocks, and the wave is about to hit the beach. Some will ride it out, many, lured by promises of big gains, may be about to find out how tenuous those gains are.

Then there’s the whole ‘clap’ thing people are trying to bring back, which just serves to embarrass many medical professionals. If you’re having issues in your locale with people getting raided because they’ve been snitched on, the most enthusiastic virtue signallers are likely the folks who are the informers.

Maybe it would be fun to snitch right back at them. Let them reap the whirlwind of their own actions.

Only correct?

Sunday, Sunday, can’t trust that day. Well, who and what can you trust? No-one, it would seem. Only your own judgement. Expecting others to act in your interests is too often an exercise in futility, unless you have the buggers wrapped up tight in contracts.

Anyway, the weather’s not been bad (It’s not raining at least) so we pootled off to have a scout around the South and East of county Clare. On that topic, we’ve found that the little service station with all the baked goods, is a lot closer than we thought. Close to the end of the lane we live on in fact. So yippee! go my taste buds. Freshly baked Irish cakes and pastries are less than five minutes away.

However Sunday took us East and South towards the Limerick border to look at furniture, as we are in need of a few sticks. In BC all our cupboards were built in, walk in wardrobes, small rooms and alcoves with hanging and drawer spaces. So we have no wardrobes or chests of drawers to put clothes in. Which can be awkward. So we’re looking for hanging and drawer space so our clothes are not all stored in suitcases until we get round to building anew.

In answer to a question I’ve been asked several times by friends and family; “Why Ireland?” I’ll offer this; Easy access because they’re part of the UK/Ireland CTA (Common travel area) ratified in 2016 (I think) by the Irish Government. It’s a more relaxed place with a great literary culture and deep history. Didn’t want to return to the UK because it’s still under the thrall of Blair-era changes which will hold it back for over a generation.

Rural Ireland has an odd feel to it. Almost like a well worn, and occasionally soggy, warm leather glove wrapping itself around you comfortingly, then giving you a pat on the head to say; “There, there now. Stop being such a feckin eejit and we’ll all be grand. Have some tea.” in a friendly but no-nonsense fashion. We’ve been here before on a previous trip, so knew what to expect. The prices looked right, far better than in BC, so with windows of opportunity closing in, we took the decision to up sticks yet again.

I’d also like to say that this side of the pond you’re not looking over your shoulder half the time to see who you’re offending, because outside of Dublin, no one cares. No-one is ‘offended’, or looking to be. Not like in BC, where it seemed that far too many people are wearing a T-shirt that says; “Everything you say is offensive, and we have hate crime laws. Peasant.” Here in Erin there is a refreshing lack of Kevins and Karens, and still fewer people willing to pander to their ill-natured demands. Here Mrs S and I feel we can be our natural selves. There is a refreshingly significant public protest against the ‘hate crime’ laws that certain members of the Dial have proposed. As we say over here, the politicians may well be told to ‘Feck arf’.

Speaking of Karens and Kevins, I see the ‘fact checkers’ are at it as usual over the US Presidential elections, throwing shade on what looks like blatant electoral fraud with the most overt obfuscations imaginable. Things like security video of poll workers pulling boxes of ‘votes’ out from where they were concealed under a table and claiming the votes thus produced were legit because, because well, reasons. Never mind that most were for Biden. Never mind that the challengers and overseers had been sent home to the assurances that all counts had finished, and would resume again in the morning. Despite all the evidence screaming that something is definitely crook. Yes mate, and shit don’t stink either. Furthermore, what would it be like to live with one of these self-important pedants? ‘Awaken with JP’ explores the topic below. (There’s a longish sponsor ad at the end of each video you may want to skip)

There are now so many of these fake fact checkers out there who only support their own side of the aisle that they’re not worth bothering with. As sources of information I would say all the ‘fact checkers’ are not fit for purpose because they too often rely on what I call ‘lawyer tricks’ and technicalities to warp their version of reality. Watching these social media ‘experts’ cover for wrongdoing is like watching a Bashir or Guru-Murthy interview, everything about them touches off my bullshit alert. The passive-aggressiveness, the insincerity and overall lack of integrity, the shifting of focus onto topics a given interview wasn’t supposed to be about. These are people who will gleefully piss in your face and tell you “Chill dude, it’s raining”.

For my last remaining reader’s edification, may I offer JP on a related topic?

I like him, he’s funny. And very telling.

By the way, pop over to Bitchute for a listen to Dr James Lyons-Weiler. Testing stages skipped? Err, that doesn’t sound good.

Anyway, I’m leaving the last word to JP.

Conspiracy vs concern

Q: When is a conspiracy theory not a conspiracy theory?
A: When it’s a legitimate concern.

Woke up this morning with this question in my head, so I thought I’d run the old mental magnifying glass over it.

So what’s the difference? Put simply, a conspiracy theory is a collation of coincidence. A conflation of A and Z without any recourse to the rest of the logical alphabet. A join the dot puzzle where certain dots are joined out of sequence, marring the overall picture. Characterised by gaps in the chain of logic, filled in with assumptions and guesses.

This is not to say that the utterings of conspiracy theorists do not contain elements of truth, but their facts often don’t connect properly. Or there isn’t enough evidence to make a convincing case for a connection. A conspiracy theory being like one of those classic movie memes where the detective hero has an entire wall of newspaper cuttings connected with red tape, some of which are surmise and guesswork. Because conspiracy theories rely heavily on the intuition of the theorist. Whether that intuition is valid is another matter because even the best can get it very badly wrong.

As a small investor I like to listen to these wild eyed theorists with my bullshit detector set to ‘high’, because occasionally, and I do mean occasionally, the wild eyed conspiracy types get things right or unearth valuable clues. Clues that tell me how the markets might move or are moving. I also listen to people who have a proven track record in their field to see if what they are talking about rings true. Both can be wrong, and no-one is infallible. Particularly Government ‘health advice’ because that is far too often tainted with the politics of it’s time. I can cite a number of examples, some which are still current.

A legitimate concern can of course be derived from a conspiracy theory. However, if the ‘evidence’ being presented for a much-cited ‘truth’, mainstream or not, is missing information, or is presented as a fait accompli. Then it is legitimate to have reservations. Especially when classic ‘hard sell’ tactics are being deployed. You treat everything like you do when buying a car. You have to ask the right questions. What is the vehicles service history? Why is it going for this price? Why does the seller seem so desperate for you to sign on the dotted line?

On these occasions, nothing, repeat nothing should ever be taken purely on trust. Not even from ‘advice’ emanating from the highest level. My time walking the streets as an enforcement officer left me with a highly jaundiced view of authority and humanity in general, hence my much used description of same; ‘the general dyslexic’.

Another plan ruined

…does anyone personally know anyone currently affected by SARS/COV-2? I ask because I’m really sick and tired of these pointless lockdowns and masks, neither of which have any real science behind them. That’s the second hotel booking on the trot I’ve had to cancel and my patience is wearing thinner by the day. No-one can plan any more. We’re all just watching stupid politicians led by the nose, in turn leading us all deeper into a pit of economic and social disaster because they can’t admit they got it very badly wrong. Like the 1962 Milgrim experiment documented in the video below. The parallels are glaringly obvious.

These punishments, because that’s what lockdowns are, will continue until the virus is gone or a ‘miracle vaccine’ arrives. Neither of which is likely. Not for a coronavirus. Researchers have been looking for a cure for the common cold since the 1960’s, and that is often a coronavirus.   The thing is that SARS/COV-2 is now endemic, that is, everywhere, as the number of tests shows. Yet how many people are sick enough to be hospitalised or even become more than slightly off colour?  Those are the numbers we need to pay attention to.

Our planned Christmas trip, a two day treat which would have helped us both stay sane has fallen to the blunt axes of ‘level three’. I want to know who I sue for wrongful imprisonment and the imprisonment of my family, not to mention the losses to my business interests? I certainly don’t qualify for any ‘furlough’ money and my pensions are still several years away. Therefore any demand for extra taxes to pay for these lockdowns will be met by a negative value on my tax return, so the tax man will end up owing me. As for funding the health service, we’ve fed our respective health services extra billions and got nothing back for it.

We’re told that all these lockdowns were to ‘save’ the health services. Hoo-effing-ray. Unfortunately, a great many people who should have been ‘saved’ by the hospitals that were closed for nothing but COVID-19 cases haven’t been. Cancer diagnoses have been missed. Heart attacks and strokes that got worse and even fatal because they went untreated. Suicides because psychiatric care was neglected. To name but three. We know the body count of people who have been tested positive for COVID-19 post mortem, but what of those whose deaths were due to the political decisions surrounding this pandemic?

By way of anecdote. My own father died at home in extreme pain because of a missed cancer diagnosis, going from a fit and healthy fifty seven year old man to a bag of bones in less than three weeks. The doctors and technicians of the NHS missed his diagnosis, by which time it was too late. Ma Sticker and I nursed him at home until close to one awful midnight she came into the room where I was waiting to do my turn to announce; “Bill, your father’s dead.” Not only that but the GP had prescribed the wrong painkillers, so a brave man died in agony. My own later experiences of the UK’s national health service also left me less than impressed. I’m sure my occasional readers will have similar stories to tell. I’m not a fan of socialised medicine. You can tell, can’t you?

Now all our lives are on hold and despite repeated promises to the contrary, subject to arbitrary disruptions which are only adding to the body count attributed to SARS/COV-2. We were promised Christmas off, but the politicians and corporates have chosen to screw us all over, trying to bore us with tiers and other such half-arsed idiocy.

Right now I hope all the politicians, media and corporate lobbyists who pushed us into this mess, including all the members of SAGE and NPHET all die like my father did. In extreme agony from a missed diagnosis. See you in hell you bastards. You’ll know me. I’ll be the grinning demon with the really nasty barbed pitchfork at reception. Maybe I’ll even give you a friendly little wave before I ram it right where your sun doesn’t shine.

Dead Horse theory

https://t.co/mxaSjA7GAB—
Zahra Abdi (@sara_bilan) March 04, 2019

Saw this on Pinterest today and it made perfect sense. These gross interferences in our human rights that Government is responsible for in the name of some perverse form of ‘safety’ fit the bill. COVID-19 / SARS/COV-2 is a dead horse. Not a ‘conspiracy theory’ but simple common sense.

Dr Mike Yeadon, ex head of Pfizer R & D surmises that the pandemic has been over for months because most of the population is now immune. The pandemic is over, as is the emergency. A simple test using the law of diminishing returns means this logically has to be the case. The disease has already done it’s worst with the vulnerable population.

Yet still various governments are talking about cancelling Christmas. I say to the politicians, put your hands up, admit it’s been a major over reaction and lift the restrictions. You will be forgiven if you are honest. However, that window is rapidly closing. Time to ‘fess up and play fair boys. All the talk of mandatory vaccinations is not a good idea as the worst has been past for ages. The pandemic is fizzling out as they all do. It’s running out of people to infect.

Small aside; in the grocery store around lunchtime I turned around to see a tall girl in her early 20’s standing waiting for her turn with the cashier. She was terrified. The look in the poor girls eyes was of full on rabbit in the headlight paralysing fear. Now I’m not that scary looking a person, and I don’t think her expression had anything to do with me. However, she was almost paralysed with fright, twitching at every little thing or if anyone came within six feet. As I left the store, I found myself wondering if she would be one of the first in line for vaccination and if the vaccine is not as safe as claimed, run the risk of health damaging side effects. For one so young at the very start of her adult life, that would be an unnecessary tragedy. Even so, the fear being pumped out at the vulnerable will have repercussions for years, not merely economically, but socially and emotionally, scarring a whole generation.

Quick statement of interest here; I normally have no problems with vaccinations. I’ve had the set, from TB, MMR, Polio, Diptheria and half a dozen others. And if I’m off anywhere where some nasty bug is endemic, normally roll my sleeve up with a grin. With one particular exception; Influenza. Historically on the three occasions I’ve actually submitted myself to a flu jab, I’ve always been ill for three or four days forty eight hours afterwards, so nowadays I tend to ignore all the wheedling from GP’s and Pharmacists to bare my arm. If forced to, I’ll take a discreet place at the extreme rear of the queue and go “Oh dear, what a shame. You’ve run out of vaccine? Well I’ll be off then. No need to fuss, you did your best. Byee…” And wait for the ones before me in the queue to fall over, or not, as the case may be. If experience teaches you that something is likely to make you ill, doesn’t it make sense to avoid it?

I’d also like to introduce anyone passing who reads this far down my febrile drivel to the ten commandments of logic. Always a handy list to have lying around. Just as a reminder for when the levels of media and political bullshit rise above waist level, like now.

Update: Interesting reports coming out of Milan, Italy. Apparently patients in a lung cancer trial were found to test positive for SARS/COV-2 as early as September 2019. Now Mrs S and I suffered from a very strange bout of an influenza type illness I called ‘The London Cough‘ in November 2019. If the bug was active in Milan, in September 2019, it is not a massive conclusion jump to conclude that we may have already been infected and recovered. If this is true we’re already immune to the bug, not likely to catch it or pass it on and therefore do not need to self-isolate, or wear a mask. We are safe from the world, and the world is safe from us. Isn’t that nice?

Hunkering down some more

It’s amazing the difference a lick of paint makes. The solid fuel stove in what we’re now calling our library, because that’s where most of our books are, has had a fresh coat of matt black heat proof paint and looks just the business. We’ve also laid in six months plus supply of Yorkshire tea. So no need to pop out to the shops quite so often. Not that there’s anywhere to go because everything’s bloody well shut. So I busy myself as best I can.

Mrs S this morning came across this guy. Theodore Zeldin, philosopher. He’s very interesting. Hint; the title is deceptive.

In a time where people seem to be so angry and intent on imposing their vision on the rest of us, whether we like it all not, Zeldin is pointing in the general direction of a door to the future. Where that door will take us, no one can say. He says that we no longer listen to each other or have proper, in depth conversations without all the mud slinging and tantrums. Which I feel is where the core of all our modern day issues lie.

Anyway. As always; don’t take my word for it; listen, consider and above all, think. I think I’ll be adding his works to our library, where they will rapidly become dog eared from use, as all the best books should.

That was easy

Since we are no longer going to Galway, we’re now in our slightly echoing new domicile having run the gauntlet of Gardai checkpoints, which was a bit of an anticlimax. “Is your journey necessary?” Asked a young lady brightly, shivering in hi-viz.
“Er, yes.” I replied, fumbling with my mask while Mrs S glowered at me for letting the side down.
“Thank you. Off you go.”

And that was it. No “Where are you really going sunshine?” or “A likely story, chummy. Pull the other one” I must have an honest face or something.

I suppose they were a bit bored because there wasn’t much traffic about. Seriously, on our way north from Limerick the only traffic was the occasional truck and very few private cars. Nothing like the normal volume. There were times when we felt quite alone. Reminded me of certain parts of Devon and Cornwall in the off season. Like on a sunny December day. Even saw a rainbow.

Dropping in at local shop for provisions, checkout girl vouchsafed that the whole situation was ‘scary’. I was inclined to agree. If the only sources of information you have are feeding off the fear, of course it is reasonable to be afraid. Personally I switch them all off and just keep going. Life’s less stressful that way.

Naked fascism in London

Mrs S and I had a bit of an argument about this. I told her what I’d seen on all the live feeds from the anti-mask demonstration at Trafalgar Square on the 26th and she refused to believe me. All of the non-MSM media tell the same story. Peaceful demonstrators baton charged without provocation. I’m just glad ‘North’ was out of town with friends.

Not the rioters and iconoclasts of BLM and Antifa, for whom the Police stand by and let them do what they want, even kneel in support of, but just your average punter who doesn’t like being muzzled. See Mahyar Tousi’s account below.

The protesters were baton charged. No provocation. Speakers were arrested. People fleeing the Police line seen with visible head wounds, ostensibly from baton strikes. For what? Wanting their civil rights back?

I say no provocation because in all the live feeds and non-MSM reports I watched, there is no wind up, no defining event that I could see, no civil unrest apart from that the Police created. There was no justification. The pandemic is over and the restrictions must be lifted.

It’s a modern day version of Peterloo.

Whoever gave the orders for this travesty needs to be fired. As for the Police, they are rapidly losing the support of the average UK resident. Time was I would go out of my way to assist an officer. No more. They can reap my non-compliance, and I’m sure I’m not the only person who thinks this way.

As for the sneering mainstream media, what do they know? According to Anna Brees, ex-mainstream journalist who was on scene, none of them were in attendance to report on the event. No Sky news, CNN, BBC, none. Perhaps they had been told to stay away and knew what was coming.

This is naked fascism. On the streets of Britain. Seventy five years after that vile philosophy was soundly defeated. It’s back. See this eyewitness report below;

How fragile we’re not

Well we’re here. We have survived jet lag, some of the worst airline food it’s ever been my displeasure to encounter and successfully negotiated the supposedly byzantine ways of quarantine and immigration. I’ve just managed to get my first decent nights sleep in over a week. We have food, we have shelter. We have transport and fast Internet. We have COFFEE! (Good stuff too)

And it hasn’t been that hard so far. Of course there have been a couple of glitches. Money needs to be applied as a salve in a couple of cases, but on the whole Mrs S and I did like I said; moved purposefully with the right forms filled in and slipped through all the barriers like shit through a goose. In record time I might add. Even baggage claim was a snip. All you need to do is ask the right questions and keep a cool, polite manner.

So where are we? To announce the winner of the migration sweepstake; Glyn Palmer. Well done smartarse, the prize of absolutely naff all is heading your way because a sweepstake needs punters. No-one ponyed up any cash so, sorry, you’re SOL as they say in jolly old Interwebland.

For the rest of you that haven’t been following our little saga; Begorrah. We’re in rural Southern Ireland.

Bill, you bastard. Well yes, of course. I’m a bastard son of a bitch. Literally. An Irishman’s bastard son of a bitch to boot. Although you wouldn’t think it to hear me speak. I have an accent that contains elements of home counties England with a slight north midlands twang, overlaid with all sorts of other anglophone influences, from Australia to Canada. But not Ireland. However, I tend to adopt accents by osmosis, so this situation may well change.

Mrs S and I are currently finding our way around, despite my phones copy of Google maps getting infested with a dose of Leprechauns and sending us down tiny lanes through the back end of nowhere. We’ve successfully navigated our way out of Dublin past groups of up to ten Hi-Viz clad Gardai (Police) in the middle of O’Connell Street, looking for all the world like clumps of late daffodils. Been driven nuts by near constant electronic admonitions from our hire car all the two hour drive to our temporary home and then successfully stared down a bunch of farmyard cats.

From our bedroom window we can see a massive country house across the valley and the hilltop remains of a castle. There are trees other than endless conifers and then there’s Ireland’s boasted ‘forty shades of green’ bathing us in it’s munificent balm. The motorway network reminds me of Southern France. Similar construction methods and accessories. Switch sides of the road and you’d hardly notice the difference, short of the bilingual road signage and Celtic alphabet.

Out here the country folk have accents thicker than a doorstep Cheese butty with extra pickles. Their voices wrap themselves around you like creamy Irish butter, which is exceptionally good let me tell you. So far we have found them robust and easy going.

We will be ‘officially’ self isolating for twelve more days before being admitted to polite society. To be honest we’re not bothered. The dreaded lurgi has come and gone. All else is propaganda and scaremongering. No second spike or wave. No need to be afraid. And I have a bottle of Jamesons. There is bacon.

Despite the restrictions imposed by badly advised and panicking politicians, the panic is over. Which tells us this; we humans are robust, not fragile. We are descended from generations of survivors. The rest is bollocks. Modern humanity is stronger than the media and political pantywaisters aver. So I choose not to listen to their cultish canting. On that topic, our accommodation has two televisions. They will not be switched on for the duration of our stay. At least not by me.

Anyway. I look on the bright side; there are huge Irish beaches to explore which will be emptier than usual as the terrified classes won’t go anywhere near them. All the more for us (Snigger).

Unafraid

Thinking about what I’m about to do in the next few weeks, specifically change continents for the second time in a lifetime, I must confess to being a little stressed, but that stress is all about the small stuff. Things like; can I get to the airport on time, have I packed enough stuff in my carry on for comfort during travel, have I remembered to keep the myriad details of my life up to date so that we can pass untroubled? Is the last meter reading correct? Is the gas off? Are all the forms filled in properly? Hundreds of tiny details. But I’m not stressed about our destination or what we’ll be doing when we get there because we have a plan. A good plan. A workable plan. And I am not afraid.

I’m not afraid of this Pandemic nor of of man made climate change, or any of the other imagined crises the mass media likes to afflict us with. They’re coming across more like conspiracy theorists than the stereotypical tinfoil hat wearer bundled up in a slept-in parka raving about 5G and Chemtrails. Much of the mainstream news, with a little simple research, can be dismissed wholesale. Especially the more notoriously partisan outlets. I say; if the money ain’t moving it probably isn’t anything to fret about. It’s just drama for drama’s sake.

As for Neil Ferguson, the progenitor of the worst possible case pandemic scenario, a little bird tells me that he is heavily invested in one of the companies in the rush to produce a ‘vaccine’ for SARS/COV-2. Mm-hm, money followed and look where it leads.

Yes there are potential risks to our venture, but most of those come from over-zealous enforcement of rules made by badly advised and panicking politicians. I can deal with those by moving purposefully with the right papers in hand, having my lawyers on speed dial and paying the barest lip service to the many counter-intuitive restrictions. So I’m not scared. Exasperated probably, annoyed possibly, mildly worried, frustrated and even angry about the lack of cognition among the greater public perhaps, but frightened? Nah.

Yet I’m definitely not fearless. I actually like and respect fear. Fear is useful because the experience gives you options. It can also be a spur to action rather than make you freeze like a rabbit in the headlights. However, caution is usually a good idea when dealing with the unknown. Now the evidence is out there that this virus is a known risk and the raw numbers say it is a minuscule risk. Ergo fear at this juncture is not warranted.

I’m not afraid because I have learned that fear always makes things worse. All that screaming and shouting is so counter-productive when actions are more important. I swear, my last words on this earth will probably be something like “Oh fuck.” cursing myself for not being vigilant enough. Besides, I’ve spent a good deal of my existence fixing other people’s screw ups, as well as a number of my own. So being familiar with various minor disasters, conflict resolution gets to be second nature and all the drama others like to generate around their pointless little lives just triggers my eye-rolling reflex. Calm, I have learned, can fix almost anything. Calm lets you think, assess the true risks while everyone else is running about like headless chickens getting in the way. Panic makes you witless and prone to screwing up even further. Yes, I’m a member of the awkward squad, so what?

By way of illustration about my membership of the awkward squad, may I recite the following anecdotes; I got kicked out of the Boy Scouts and much to my families endless entertainment and embarrassment, Kindergarten. Bill, you got kicked out of kindergarten? Yes I did because someone’s little darling tried to push me around and I wasn’t in the mood. On my second day no less. Ma turned up and was visibly upset at me being asked to leave. I think there was something about a bloody nose somewhere in the mix, but it’s too long ago and I don’t remember. Honestly officer, I din’t do nuffin.

And I’m willing to bet there are a whole lot of other people out there who aren’t really afraid of this stupid mass panic either. They’re confused by all the craziness pushed by the dramatising, click hungry media, angry even, as am I. But afraid? No.

It’s not difficult to be unafraid. All you have to do is adjust your attitude to risk. Not to be fearful simply because someone tells you to be. Learn to accept the inevitability of pain, which is rarely so bad as imagined. I have old injuries that hurt all the time and slow me down a bit. However I have learned that fear only makes pain seem worse. Physical pain is a whole lot easier to handle than fear. I speak from raw experience.

The people pushing this endless fear need a good stinging slap in the face or two, just to let them know. Yes, you Piers Morgan, you media whore, we’re looking at you. Go to the top of the class and do a header into the playground. I promise not to cheer, much.

I can’t win

It must be cabin fever. Mrs S has received one of those Amazon widgets that does sound and voice control. The kids bought it for her for her birthday. Personally I don’t like them. Won’t have them anywhere near me due to the well documented privacy issues. To me, they are junk that has no real facility. I call them junk because they report to outside entities, rather like Windows 10, which is a shit operating service Microsoft won’t let you control and is full of bloatware. Besides, voice control and recognition has many drawbacks. Did play around with a few voice activation programs a few years ago, but when those report outside of my control, well… ’nuff said.

Today Mrs S waved the uninstalled item at me and said that I “Won’t let her use it.”
To which I had to respond; “Use it if you like, but I want nothing to do with it.” Now guess where I ended up. Go on. Guess. All because I like to keep my personal affairs private.

So the sound on her PC is now ‘inadequate’, because she wants to fill the house with Andre Boccelli singing the Easter Mass, which is my fault apparently. Not Boccelli, but the inadequate sound. If Mrs S wants to install the wretched gadget herself, she can do it.

Not that I care much for opera. The only Opera I’ve got any time for is using it as one of the five web browsers I use on a daily basis. When it comes to some opera I’d rather saw my own head off than be exposed to it any longer than necessary. Opera as an art form is an acquired taste I have chosen not to acquire. Not surprisingly there is no opera in my music collection. There’s classical music, a lot of Prog rock and electric folk, but no opera. Okay, I’d go to a performance if the tickets were free, but only if you didn’t mind tracking where I was in the audience by my snoring.

Add to that I’ve got a minor headache and a seasonal sniffle. A sort of light echo of what Mrs S suffered the day before yesterday and shrugged off in forty eight hours. So today we took a drive out. Unlike in Ontario and New Brunswick, the RCMP here in BC have better things to do with their time than randomly stopping people and demanding to know where they’re going, or if they’ve been buying stuff the prodnoses disapprove of. It was just a nice day for a drive, even if there was nowhere to go.

We have officially been in self imposed lockdown since 10th March. When the panicking is all over I am going to have the mother and father of all timeouts.

Deeply sorry to hear about Tim Brooke Taylor, comic actor who made the nation laugh in shows like I’m sorry I’ll read that again, At last the 1948 show, The Goodies and many more. The man was a national treasure, but now we have to bury him. He’d probably have enjoyed that gag.

Bugger.

Looking forward

Well, the champagne (A small bottle of Pol Roger) is on ice, awaiting 3pm Friday 31st, BREXIT day. That’s 3pm Pacific Standard, 11pm UK, midnight in Brussels, or should that be midnight for Brussels? Mrs S just reminded me, but I’d already made preparations.

Rain permitting I will be hanging out the Union flag to rub various noses in it. At least if I see any of the despised circle of stars banners on display in the neighbourhood. I choose to celebrate my countrymen’s decision and success in wresting themselves from the pelagic ooze of Brussels. Good luck chaps. I wish you all well. May the sun always be on your backs and the road rise to meet your feet. I have a seeming that those backing a Bojo led BREXIT have put their money on a winning horse.

My path looks like I shall be taking a different road and despite the current threat of Chinese Coronovirus, Mrs S and I are feeling optimistic. Plans are afoot and so shall we be.

The sad news is that Elderly Friend declines further by the day, her marbles continue to rattle out and down the memory holes of existence. However, that’s dementia for you. Within the next month or two we expect to visit her only to be greeted with a surly “Who the hell are you?” and the door of her sheltered accommodation slammed firmly in our faces. This is a thing we are resigned to facing. It’s part of the downside of being a Power of Attorney, but one you have to expect. All we can do is play along with her continual confabulations and await the long-dreaded phone call from the staff. She might see one more Spring, she might not, but at the current rate of decline I think she’ll be pushing up the daisies before they break bud. We’ll sigh, Mrs S will cry a little and I will do the honours like we did for her husband back in 2011. My goodness, was it that long ago?

Notwithstanding, the future beckons and we must heed its call, stepping up to the challenges we are set.

May our gods go with us.

Happy independence day UK.

I am not your label

Got into a minor comment spat over on YouTube where some so-called ‘intellectual’ type was spouting divisive nonsense about how the ‘Boomers’ have stolen their children’s future. I watched for three minutes before my bullshit detector overloaded and I switched to something more stimulating. I also left a comment to that effect.

It must have struck a nerve because someone responded, accusing me of being a ‘boomer’ with a disparaging ‘okay boomer’ remark, saying the ‘intellectual’ had proven his case with statistics. To which I say; any damned fool can prove any case with statistics. Statistics can be used to prove that the moon is made of blue cheese and are, in the wrong hands, merely numbers tortured to the point where reality starts cracking. As Sam Clemens said; “There are lies, damned lies and statistics.” Which is as neat an axiom as was ever laid in print.

All this talk of the ‘old stealing from the young’ is bollocks on stilts. Garbage reasoning to promote division so that the promoters of divisiveness may profit from asset stripping those they accuse. No-one has ‘stolen’ anything from anyone. My parents were modestly well off and worked hard to raise their boys, as did their parents before them. They are the giants whose shoulders I stand upon, and the next generation stands on mine, as with the next and the next. Overall, I am proud to say, we as a family have become more educated and better off by increments. As for ‘stealing’ from our children by burdening them with debt, well newsflash kiddies; so were we. The taxes paid by people born in my era were still paying off war debts incurred by previous generations right up until the 2010’s. From both the first and the second world wars.

Were our futures ‘stolen’ by our parents by paying these war debts? Don’t be ridiculous. Mrs S and I have what we have because we’ve spent our lifetimes laying up resources when times were not completely shit. Deferring our gratification. Not paying for the pub managers next holiday. All this talk of redistribution of wealth off the back of this ‘stealing from the young’ crap is just cheap political rhetoric to help asset strip the haves and then not give to the have nots.

Think of this; if authority takes from the haves, there is always a cost of collection. People to employ as collectors, office space, phone bills etcetera. All of which have to be paid for by more taxes. Then there are the costs involved in paying out the resources stripped from the haves, often from different departments with multiple redundant processes employing people who might be better off and happier doing real jobs. For every dollar raised for taxes of this nature, the redistribution tends to happen as follows; From every dollar taken in extra taxation, a good forty cents go into collecting and dispersal, twenty cents plus go into the back pockets of the politicians friends who build their offices and ‘help out’ with the financing of same and less than thirty cents out of the remaining forty end up where the politicians say they’re going to go. Although this is hard to prove. Sometimes the whole dollar just disappears into the black hole of general taxation, the redistributive schemes disappearing after a couple of years, whilst the increased tax remains. This is observation, not a statistic, and being merely anecdotal has no means of proof. Yet the extra tax money is still taken. Where it ends up is anybody’s guess. Don’t even get me started on carbon taxes.

Also; have the people born in my era been ‘wrecking the environment’? More complete hogwash. I was a card carrying environmentalist until I saw the light and understood that there are other ways of working towards less pollution, cleaner air and water. I began my working life in the UK industrial midlands with the stink of used soluble oil ever present in my nostrils. Now you can walk those same streets and not catch a whiff. Similarly diesel fumes. As for the nonsense bloviated about ‘man made climate change’, well, I’ve stated my opinion about that imaginary bugaboo often enough. We, those of us now in our fifties, sixties and seventies, were the people who campaigned for less pollution and the west is now much cleaner. The east is beginning to follow, but all these massive changes take time. All of this in the last forty years.

Did I mention that people of my age raised families with the ever present threat of nuclear Armageddon looming above us? Yes we have minor terror attacks now, but I grew up with IRA bomb threats (and real bombs), so little has changed. The world isn’t ending, despite any Coronavirus, which incidentally is not the fault of people born in the demographic bulge of the fifties and sixties. Nor is anything else, including a minor warming trend as we crawl out of the last of the Little Ice Age, which has already turned into a minor cooling trend, scheduled to last for the next thirty years. We will still have plenty of arctic and antarctic ice, sea levels will not flood major coastal cities like we’ve been told will happen twenty years hence for the last forty years. According to these doomsayers that is due to happen this year (2020). Seriously, it’s like waiting for the Great Prophet Zarquon.

Yes, so I find all this labelling of people in my age group as ‘Boomers’ whatever the labellers think that means, offensive. Also I do not choose to accept their label. It’s nothing but a cheap toss off, a worthless mental squiggle, only to be used by the hard of thinking.

/rantmode

Coronovirus 2019 nCoV

Right. Have been trying to keep up with the news from China etc regarding this new end of the world scenario. This time in the form of a possible lab mutated Flu virus. Among all the fake news and conspiracy theory stuff there is so much conflicting information. We have confirmed cases in Toronto and Vancouver, some have been reported from the US. And almost every seasonal cough and sneeze seems to be attributed to it. This is a happy time for hypochondriacs. For a slightly more downbeat report, see below.

This is not to downplay the situation. This is a nasty bug with a reported 2% mortality rate. Compare that against 80,000 deaths in the USA alone during cold and flu season 2017-18. Not to mention the 2009 H1N1 pandemic, and the fuss over SARS. Again from the far east, the ‘bird flu’ and Severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS-CoV, another Coronovirus) pandemics were considered serious threats which then burned out.

Out here on the Pacific rim we’ve got a big Chinese community and lots of active links direct into Vancouver from Beijing and environs. Chinese New Year events are being cancelled over here. West Vancouver won’t happen. Distribution of Chinese movies has been affected. So if you’re a fan of far east action flicks, you might have a bit of a wait. Hong Kong Chinese New Year celebrations have been cancelled, partly because of the continuing protests, now with the added impetus of infection. Looks like the year of the rat will be sneaking in very quietly.

For myself I’m not worried. My antibodies should be active enough as Mrs S and I had a nasty Coronovirus flu type infection in November 2019, so are less likely to contract a variant. This not to say we won’t catch it, but our respective immune systems should have enough active antibodies to successfully fight it off.

We also have no plans for transatlantic travel until September this year. So no infection risk from being crammed in an alloy tube for ten hours with another 2-300 people breathing their contagions into a semi closed cycle air conditioning system. However, a prolonged trip to Ireland for September / October is in train and we’re going to book our flights this week. We’re also looking at long term car hire in the Emerald Isle for around two months. So if anyone has any suggestions, we’ll be glad to hear them.

Update: There’s a lot of conflicting information coming out and very little clarity. The updated death rate has gone up to 4% in Wuhan, but from what I gather about the seat of infection, the whole release was a massive cock-up on the part of the lab where the Viral agent was being studied. Now of course it’s in the wild, what happens next is anyone’s guess. Canada doesn’t seem too concerned as screening appears minimal. Hong Kong on the other hand has shut down all train travel between it and the rest of China.

See below for a peculiarly Canadian take on this issue. Amongst others.

New neighbours

Mrs S and I were having a chat about the news that Harry and Meghan Windsor, possibly the soon to be ex-Duke and Duchess of Sussex, have set up shop on the other side of the Island highway in Saanichton.

Saanichton isn’t that bad an address. At least the rural part of it. a little dull perhaps. But there’s reasonable transport links, the Brentwood to Mill Bay ferry. A decent marina for a hundred foot plus boat. I know it well. Then Victoria (cough) International airport (Only if you’re travelling to the States) isn’t far away. There’s also a cute little seaplane place not far from the Spitfire Grill around the back of the airport. It’s pleasant enough in the Summer months. The traffic on the Patricia Bay Highway can get quite congested when the ferries from Vancouver are unloading, but there are ways around. A couple of winding back roads from the airport through Brentwood and into Saanichton. West Saanich road can also get you off the beaten track and down onto Highway One if you know which turns to take. There are wineries producing rather average Canadian wine, hiking trails, a couple of parks, sea fishing, Kayaking and suchlike. A lot of Deer, and the occasional Bear and Cougar.

Regarding the possible loss of titles, from what I hear Meghan is the major fly in the ointment. She’s been backchatting the Queen and behaving in a most unregal way in public. Which may be one reason why she and Harry are over here on Vancouver Island. If they do lose the Duke and Duchess titles over their lèse majesté, they’ll have to go through the whole immigration process to stay in Canada like the rest of us plebs, or at least their lawyers will.

Now I can’t speak for Meghan, but I’m told Harry is a decent enough sort who is allowing his affection for his wife and newborn to cloud his judgement. If I were him I’d quietly upgrade my military training on helicopters and parlay it into a professional civilian rating. Which wouldn’t do any putative immigration application any harm. At least if he and his wife intend to stay. Canadian immigration rules, okay? Do either of them speak passable French? Mais non? Desolee messieurs dames.

Fortunately they’re both set for life as far as money is concerned, although their security bills will eat through their respective fortunes fast enough without the protections afforded to those on the Civil list.

In addition; for the benefit of those who don’t understand the UK’s Royal Family, may I offer a little insight. An insight which Diana, late Princess of Wales and latterly the ex-Duchess of York, Sarah Ferguson, forgot. They too thought they could do what they wanted, and look what happened there. HM Queen rules, UK? She said frog, they had to jump. Which, after some wandering willies got in the way of their relationships, they declined to do.

The UK’s Royal Family is unique in that it is the last real sacerdotal monarchy left in the world. That means the hereditary head of state, currently Elizabeth II, is both the titular head of state and landlady to most of the UK, she is also the head of the Church of England. Well so what? You might say. Well actually not so much “so what” as what HM Queen does as her job.

From sparrow fart until bedtime Liz II has her whole life mapped out for her, from cradle to grave. She is the head of ‘The Firm’ as Prince Philip once perceptively referred to the Royal family as. Because as Royals their lives are a business, the business of the visible state. All the parades, protocols and flummery that help socially glue the UK together.

Not only that but as head of state Elizabeth II is also the head of the UK’s military. You know when someone makes the rhetorical challenge “You and whose army?” Ahem, well that’s hers, including the tanks. As well as the UK’s Navy and Air Force, which she lets politicians borrow from time to time. Their oath of loyalty is to the Crown (Apart from the Royal Marines, who swear fealty I believe, to the board of Admiralty), which Liz II is the public figurehead of. It’s a strange, symbiotic relationship between the person and her immediate family, and the entity that ensures the continuity of her rule, or rather not rule. The queen is notoriously apolitical. Sometimes, some would say, to her personal detriment.

However as monarch, the Queen’s whole life is bound up in narrow protocols. She has very little say over her daily activities because she is the visible component of the whole machine that is the Royal Family. She can’t publicly disrespect anyone. Not even the nastiest little third world dictator, so long as they’re on a state visit. She has to be on her very best behaviour at all times. No room for even the smallest public slip in decorum.

Unlike Meghan, who seems to think that simply because she married Harry, she can treat anyone any old how. Actually the opposite is true. If she wants to retain her title, she has to apologise to the Queen, promise to do better and then keep her word to the absolute letter. She must now set an example. Follow protocols and precedence. Do the duty of deputising for the sovereign when called upon to do so. Because by marrying into the UK’s Royal Family and taking on the title and privileges, that became her new day job. She is no longer a B-list celebrity actress but a Duchess, which probably requires far better acting ability. Indeed, it could be construed as the role of her lifetime. Unfortunately Meghan doesn’t seem to have the stomach for it and she’s dragging Harry down with her. Which is a shame.

Oh well, there goes the neighbourhood.