A Belly of Fire and a Balloon

Yesterday I had a rare outburst of frustration, which was aimed towards some people I care about. The BBC propaganda machine was busy slating the National Health Service on the TV. The same NHS which had saved my life from a ruptured appendix and numerous bone breaks; which had saved my mother’s life from coronary heart disease; had saved my sister’s life after she was involved in a major car crash; my relatives’ lives from killers such as brain tumour, stroke, breast cancer, ectopic pregnancy, bowel cancer; friends’ lives from poisoning, kidney failure, stab wounds, brain injury, ruptured spleen; and had saved the lives of an immeasurable amount of my fellow country folk. I was compelled to rant about how the BBC was demonising the NHS to the benefit of a neoliberal plan to smear and sell off all publicly owned assets to private business under the fallacious pretenses of austerity.

I tend to sense people’s’ eyes glazing over in a ‘I just don’t know what you’re talking about’ kind of way, and usually just resign myself to a failure, but I tenaciously continued in desperate want for others to see the dystopic threat that was already punching me in the face. I flared up like a roman candle when interrupted by a seemingly cutting irreverent remark regarding a stain on the newsreader’s clothes. I took this as an affront, that resulted in me making a retaliation along the lines of sleepwalking-brainwashed-sheep. I automatically regretted doing so. I know these people. They are good people. They responded by asking me what I expected them to do. I said I expected them just to be aware.

How presumptuous and egotistical that was. I am far from aware. I am only aware that I may be aware. Self doubt has mixed with propaganda, and rendered my argument impoverished. I have not memorised the facts I have encountered. The limit of my ability for recollection is a continuing kick in the bollocks. I am forced to work by a Bayesian approach where all the objective information I have read and observed gets assimilated into a great lump of reactionary and subjective response fodder. This is exacerbated by a vicarious outrage. Where do I start in convincing others of my incoherent convictions? I can explain with satisfaction and assuredness the nature of energy, mass, gravity, and wavefunctions, but I can not explain to people with surety how the BBC is biased, how the police work against protest, how corporations influence the government to the detriment of their electors, how an ideology of greed and irresponsibility can manipulate people to give up their greatness in exchange for ignorance, injustice, poverty, prejudice, and pitiful sadness.

Despite the already widespread suspicion of government self-service and ineptitude; where is the proof? I have arbitrary examples. Where are my citations? I can only reference a growing army of people who share the sentiments of my ‘awareness’. Where is my assuredness? I am inundated with moving mouths and deficient in objective fact. I need facts to read, and to reference. I can not just rely on parroting and intuition. Give me The People’s Assembly’s transcriptions, with citations. Give me Max Keiser’s transcriptions and citations, Give me Noam Chomsky’s references. I am compelled and unarmed. I face an organised enemy with fire in my belly… and a balloon as a weapon. I need strength in depth. Narrow my attack! Give me information! Accept my apology.

Don’t Keep Calm – Destroy This Corrupt Government

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s