metough There follows a random selection of today’s silliness so far. As I begin, it’s only 3.00pm CET, so there’ll be plenty more to come. If this  Slogpost stops abruptly in midflow, then it’s either an astrological apology for illogical anthropology, or time for your meds again.

Gideon Rachman is accusing Donald Trump of undermining European democracy. 40% of all those arrested for demonstrating against Trump were not eligible to vote. Obama has told the Greeks they need a period of calm, and a deal  with the EC on debt relief. The UK Ministry of Defence has run out of battleship missiles, and will not be ordering more. Captains have been told to revert to guns. This morning, Bloomberg interviewed “an expert on US politics” who spent the entire 15 minute slot slagging off Trump as “an amateur who will destabilise America by making one blunder after another”. Having dismissed the Deloitte email as “a hoax”, UK Prime Minister Theresa May spent some time today attacking various people who sent or leaked it.

So: a President-elect who defeated a woman under suspicion of perversion of justice, vote-rigging and meds addiction; a President telling a fly with no legs to jump out of the fire; a bombastic government issuing the navy with peashooters; Bloomberg giving airtime to an East Coast liberal in short trousers; and a Prime Minister who rages against imaginary emails.

I’m confused. I’m so confused, I can’t figure out any more whether I’m a homophobic Jihadist or a pacifist Gentilephile. I don’t think I hate anyone beyond Rupert Murdoch, but it seems I have a criminal sexual desire to hate all women and small minds: so it’s quite possible I’m a Misogynipaedophile. Christ, if things carry on at this rate, I’ll be a bloody Welsh village by the weekend.

Everywhere I look, the news – and those featuring in it – seem either disturbed, mendacious, delusional or surreal. I point that out on Twitter, and the answers I get suggest that I am disturbed, mendacious, delusional or surreal. The syntax they use suggests they might be disturbed, mendacious, delusional or surreal

A peach of a tweet from last night was ‘You live on racist hate. Scum like you are a lower form of human life’. It was 11.30, I was very tired and inconveniently sober. But I woke up this morning unable to shake the insouciant irony of that attack from my mind: I had finally become a hateful racist under attack in hatefully racist terms. I’m going to a séance tonight. I’m going to ask the medium if she can get Jonathan Swift* online. I feel the need to tell him that Gulliver’s Travels are a daily occurrence in the 21st century. We don’t argue about the right end of a boiled egg to tap (I shall tell his immortal soul) we just debate whether a prepubescent should really need to shave twice a day.

In a nutshell, I am ashamed to be the same nationality as all those who are ashamed to be British because of something like Brexit – but glad I’m not Scottish: for in Scotland, the biggest Party is less ashamed to be a member of the shameless European Union than it is to be part of a shameful United Kingdom. They should all be ashamed of themselves. All this explains perfectly well why I live in France, where men know no shame and their wives use the tu forme* to their husbands’ mistresses. (Husbands use the vous forme with their wives during sex, because doing it with a stranger is infinitely more erotic)

That was a big nutshell. But it takes a big shell to contain so much nuttiness.

I have a mind of my own. I haven’t borrowed it, or had a transplant donated to me by a member of Chrysi Avgi*. I don’t adopt an opinion, as adoption can be a hit and miss affair, and not all adoption agencies – in these days of the thriving public sector – are to be trusted.

I’ve been influenced  by tens of thousands of things – neurotic parents, school bullies, University Maoists, weekend Hippies, American and Swiss corporates, life in advertising, life in Brixton, deep depression, children, divorce, politicians as clients, life  and lessons learned from  conducting thousands of consumer interviews, Gallic culture, Greek culture, German culture, and natural interaction with immigrants. But nothing prepared me for the divisiveness of contemporary life: that was up to me to see it coming, and I didn’t.

I suspect this is because I didn’t expect that one day, the hare-brained among us (who used to stumble quietly from one life-crisis to the next without bothering anyone outside their long-suffering families) would decide to have their brains washed by hordes of ideological fishwives, and then be made to feel welcome in the blogotwittofacebook sphere…by those who wish only to obfuscate, agitate and irritate. For only when the hare brain has been washed is it finally dead.

By ‘dead’ in this case, I mean unable to see life from the opponent’s point of view. In 2016, the braindead are sure that opponents exist only to be hated, vilified and ridiculed….not under any circumstances to be engaged and debated. In 2016, the braindead’s opponent is somebody in the wrong with no right to an opinion. In 2016, it is not that the washed hare-brain is dead; rather, it is that all the brains among the Great Unwashed must be put to death.

You can observe this on both the Left and Right wings of the British Union of Fascists*.

For the Left, the Brexiteers won because we have foolishly allowed “the uneducated” lower orders to have the vote. (Tony Blair)

For the Right, the Brexiteers won because, being old and stupid, they reject the inevitability of globalist triumph. (George Osborne)

As a Party, the BUF might sound like a broad church; but it looks to me like a very narrow viewpoint – with a great deal of potential unity.

Ideology closes minds among the mad. Creative philosophy opens minds among the free thinkers. Long live free thought.

* If you don’t know who or what these people/organisations are/were, then look them up. It’s character-forming, and combats ignorance.