Rhetorical Questions Round a Rectangular Dining Table
Vol.17 It’s the return of whataboutery! And are you enjoying your 4 day weekend?
Vol.17 It’s the return of whataboutery! And are you enjoying your 4 day weekend?
Please allow me to extend to you a big, hearty welcome to this, the 17th volume of the ridiculous and bloody annoying questions that rattle around my tiny mind that I try, and fail, to ludicrously dress up as some kind of existential and intellectual thinking and quite frankly they’re not. They’re just bloody annoying.
Shall we start with a question?
Now that the Johnny and Amber Show has left Media Town, how about we start posing public questions to the girlfriend of the world’s most monstrous and notorious sexual predator of young girls? You know the one, the odious and heavily Establishment connected multi Billionaire who flew all those dead eyed entities you see on your Telescreen every day to his own private island. Surely it’s long overdue for a long and studious peek into Ghislaine Maxwell’s darkly sinister black book? If we can give our collective energy to a horrible domestic abuse case and feel titillated by who, or what and why someone shit on someone’s side of the bed, surely we can muster the energy to fiercely and strongly question whom a highly connected couple procured under legal age and incredibly young women for?
Who’s in the black book?
What names are on the flight logs?
And why isn’t the Fourth Estate screaming these questions at the top of their collective lungs?
Those questions could lead to the already mounting evidence as to why these ghoulish wraiths who pontificate on our Telescreens how to live our lives (and how to subordinate ourselves to their dark whims and will) but who was officially connected to these two devilish creatures? How many times did they fly to Jeffrey Epstein’s island? Who accompanied them? These last couple of questions aren’t rhetorical at all as the information is in the public domain yet even with these scraps of definitive and documented evidence, there has yet to be widescale, and societally transformative, prosecutions. Why? And perhaps more pertinently, why isn’t the girlfriend of the most heinous of sexual predators, a man connected to the very heart of the “Titans” and “Captains” of Industry, Commerce, Entertainment, Government and Royalty not being shaken upside down until the names tumble from her dirty pockets?
The ugly truth is the first domino theory, that being the first high profile domino to topple must set off a chain reaction of those inextricably, inexplicably and factually obviously linked to them. Why, for example, are we taking medical and horrifically large scale societal change advice from someone who is neither a doctor nor has any business dictating what environmental changes must be made to our planetary home? Shouldn’t we be asking this technology Billionaire why he flew on so many occasions to this notorious island with the world’s most notorious sexual predator? Perhaps we could then expand this question to who he went to the island with? What happened? Was there coercion? Blackmail?
Instead, we all laugh at the Johnny Depp and Amber Heard televisual car crash of mental instability as well as looking the other way when, pressed even very lightly on the issue, the said technology Billionaire says of his association with Jeffrey Epstein “Well he’s dead now”. Shouldn’t we be demanding that he’s investigated and questioned thoroughly as to his links to these monstrous excuses for human beings? Some good old fashioned detective work perhaps? One prosecution brings another? Two become a chain that becomes a worldwide web of horrendous deviancy?
Wouldn’t that be a society that is finally evolving into a more just world, rather than the rainbow one painted by the dark actors on our Telescreens?
Or shall we just enjoy the 4 day weekend and forget about the fact a certain Prince paid 12 Million Smackeroos to someone for something he didn’t do, has no knowledge of and is absolutely innocent and, like Bill Gates, is probably very pleased indeed that his old friend was murdered (suicide, surely? Editor) as dead men can’t tell Satanic tales can they?
Here in the UK we’re in the middle of a much vaunted 4 day weekend for the Jubilee celebrations of a family with enough filthy lucre for a thousand lifetimes. Dukes. Duchesses. Viscounts. Lords. Knight Commanders. Princes and Princesses. We have them all on this tiny UK island and yes, we clearly live in Narnia, and not the 21st Century. If not some mystical fictional land through a wardrobe, then with these hereditary familial titles we clearly still live in the 15th Century, so it’s hardly surprising a Prince (we have Princes!) can pay off a woman with £12 Million donated from his Mother, The Queen (We have Kings and Queens!) and, more importantly, not from The Queen at all but us, humble taxpaying slaves (“Subjects”, surely? Editor). So why not hang some bunting and Union Jacks and drink Pimms and bask in the fact that gas, electricity and fuel prices have tripled in just months, the country is participating in and actively encouraging a murderous proxy war in Ukraine, there is an earth shattering financial collapse just around the corner and 1 in 4 children live in poverty whilst we celebrate (bunting and all) when we open yet another foodbank on this deliberately failing island?
Why not indeed?
“But they’re good for tourism” will come the cry from the masses. But are they? If so, I have the perfect solution to the past two or three paragraphs and should, by rights, be installed immediately as UK Prime Minister. If it’s such an honour and a privilege to merely be a member of the Royal Family, then let’s redistribute their eye watering wealth (thus ending poverty, food banks and child and elder neglect. Forever) and ask them to smile and wave from their balconies for free? Or better still, have a rolling Monarchy? Once a month, there’s a change of the pun and Royalty connected guard. David and Victoria Beckham for example. Once a day for a month, the happy couple emerge on the balcony of Buckingham Palace, smile and wave for a few minutes and the crowd lose their shit as well as their English pounds. Problem solved. In fact, I’ve created an industry! Next month? Sharon and Ozzie Osbourne? The England football captain, his wife and their clan of children. We love seeing Royal children dressed as old fashioned 87 year olds, waving from an old house and for no discernible reason whatsoever. Get the kids involved! Get some Tik Tik influencers to, well, influence, and wave like lunatics to the adoring masses below. Imagine the money creation? And now we’re in a virtual world of realistic holograms, let’s bring back some classics from the dead. They’d go down a storm! Napoleon Bonaparte wouldn’t perhaps be a great choice, but considering the Queen’s familial tree, can I suggest a German Leader of the past? He sure liked to wave a lot! He’d be an easy fit.
Perhaps Winston Churchill for a month? Perhaps Saint George? If he could be persuaded to bring his dragon along and slay it say, every Friday afternoon, imagine the money pouring into the economy? No more hideously connected (and generations long) stories of unimaginable sexual depravity (and so, so much more that a blind public refuse to see with their own lying eyes). Instead, a hologram of Freddie Mercury belting out the greatest hits of Queen every Tuesday afternoon and an encore show on Thursday nights?
We’d be rich I tells ya!
But here’s my questions: What if you’re unemployed? Every weekend is a 4 day weekend to you! How about the retired? 4 day weekend? They’re in Barbados drinking rum and buying weed from the dealers strolling around a Caribbean beach in the sun. How about the poor souls struggling with their mental health and unable to work? 4 day weekend? They can’t see past the next half an hour of their lives, let alone sitting outside freezing their unmentionables off at a street party with strangers and curled up sandwiches for company. The self employed? How about those amongst us who’d rather work regardless of the occasion? How about the unfortunate souls on a zero hour contract, and the latest in a long line of examples of our human family species descending into hell? What good is a 4 day weekend to them when they don’t know, from this day until the next, whether they’ll be required to work at all? Here in the UK we have fully embraced the locally known “Continental Shifts” whereby it rolls from 6am — 2pm or 2pm-10pm or 10pm-6am and from minor experience as well as those of friends, you never settle into anything resembling a “normal” life routine. What does a 4 day weekend mean to those poor wretched souls? You’re on an incredibly unhealthy conveyor belt from sleep to work and back again. But here’s a family from a fantasy land waving at you.
Wave back and be grateful you damn malingerer!
And here’s the rub: The reason for the inane questions above centre on the fact we are seen as a collective blob, conformist, singular, obedient and submissive. Sure. But it’s even worse than that! A 4 day weekend must be as embraced as the Royal family as it complies with a collective “norm”. Everyone you see works the Dolly Parton song from 9 to 5, weekends off, and then the mind numbing grind resumes again on Monday. I did this for over 2 decades. You too perhaps? The Royal family is good for tourism? Perhaps. But there must be an evolved alternative. Organised fun such as the current Jubilee reminds me of the images beamed into the Telescreens of my youth and the way we used to laugh at faraway lands or particularly the Red Menace of the USSR. A supplicant populace, literally and figuratively on their bended knees and in deep mental, spiritual and financial distress, waving flags and eagerly joining in with the organised fun.
4 day weekend? How about a life of 4 day weekends?
How about we ask the girlfriend of the world’s most odious and monstrous serial sexual abuser of young ladies to start naming names?
How about we ask questions of the Fourth Estate, and why they don’t scream these questions at the top of their collective lungs?
Selah.
Rhetorical Questions Round a Rectangular Dining Table
Vol.16 The “Cut and Paste” Generation and where do you see yourself in 25 years time?medium.com
Rhetorical Questions Round a Rectangular Dining Table
Vol.15 Does anyone buy books anymore? Anyone want to buy my book? And what am I going to do with myself?medium.com
Rhetorical Questions Round a Rectangular Dining Table
Vol.14 Friday 13th, a stroll in the sun and an over dependency on bread and circusmedium.com