Monday, June 14, 2021

Home is where a man's prepared to die

Adrian Haart has a post up which brought a tear to the eye:

As many have noted, the most disgusting aspect of the coronavirus debacle here in the UK is that it is clearly being used to herd the general population into ideological pens. We are being treated like sheep. Herded towards a future defined by totalitarian loons.

That specific topic we're covering elsewhere ... this post is about what "home" feels increasingly like.  There was a time I could read the Guardian because it wasn't off the bloody planet, it was more like this:

There's also the question posed in a song by Graeme Connor, a Queenslander, about a Sicilian who emigrated, worked hard, brought the family over - I've seen similar with those from Malta.  I've nothing against those who've earned their place - its just this other lot that stick in my craw.

But worse is a bit of feedback I had about the area around my parents' place on the coast, plus a place they used to camp in summer ... and some recent feedback was also chilling.  It's now apparently overrun and other reports I get are that it's also run down, shabby, third world. The invaders hog the best areas, not unlike DemRats on the coasts of the US - ideological aliens and yet occupying the prime real estate. 

I do feel an affinity with [to/for] southern Bama below the I-10 but the heat is the killer over there.  Plus the hurricanes.  Sicily's too hot.

So here I am in the north-west, a lovely spot to be sure, mercifully still fairly alien-free, and yet home is in that youtube the other side of the Pennines.  However, I know only two people across there now, closer to my family home in West Riding, so little chance of a reset in the area,  I know one only downunder apart from Amfortas in Van Diemen's Land and sadly, this Melburnian is ideologically opposed to me and is being very Karen about the whole hoax, even seething.  AKH was right about ideological pens.

Russia?  That window's closed now and my mate and former love warn me it's not the same place.  Well of course. Not as well disposed towards the alien.  One can never go back.

Truth is that where I am now is not 'arf bad, it has everything required at an affordable price, the air's not bad on this hillside.  perhaps the best part is that there are not all that many Karens about - most are maskless these days and couldn't care less. That's not to be sneezed at you know.

1 comment:

  1. "There was a time I could read the Guardian ...": golly, he must be old. I will admit, however, that there was a time when the Observer was readable.