You can never go back, you can't stay here

Our side of the politico-social divide is fairly well aware that there's little mercy coming our way [see Susie again at Samizdata] and we've said enough to burn our bridges with those who did have some compassion with us in more pleasant times before the far-left Wokery took over.

Which is not to say there was another way for us, there wasn't - we had and we have now a duty to speak out on things right and wrong, not to silently suffer or allow others to suffer, because we're trying to overturn the paradigm, the wilful blindness of our fellow citizens before it's too late.  Unfortunate, frustrating, but there it is. 

Which is not to say we would not show compassion for a Wokist trying to kill us with a forced vaxx - old friends who now shun me, if they fell on hard times ... well yes, I'd provide a haven, if I still had one and if I were sure they'd not shop me to the stasi.

You see, since about 2003, I've been on the edge of disaster anyway - to quote one of the few friends to whom I told all - you, James, are utterly f***ed.  And on paper ... I am.  Yet here we all are before the rules all change in October and November, in time to put people like us on the streets before the cold sets in.  There are cogent reasons, inexorable, why that will be so, there are also ways it will not be. Same old Sword of Damocles for twenty years.

The only reason I come out with that this evening is a close friend sent me a video of my old town in Russia and to be fair - it wasn't that one which mortified me, it was a second and third one I also found - one during the day, one at night.

There are some points to be made.  That town had quite a few large dormitory suburbs, bounded by main roads and though it was safe enough near the edges, near those roads, you did not want to wander deep into the middle as it was pretty dangerous to life and limb, not just for a foreigner.  So the rule was that you had rails and you stuck to them, it was also wise to always be a native and have a 'krisha' or protection at different levels.  You needed to get wise quickly and then you could survive the maddening bureaucracy long gone crazy.

The effect of these things just mentioned is that people, esp. the young, tended, as new places were built and opened, to congregate in the centre of town which, far from being dangerous like, say, Newcastle here, was broad, open and absolutely packed with people most evenings - the whole area was festooned with lights, bars were open, McDonalds, cafes, and there was a very interesting demographic I've not seen anywhere else.  

See, that town was around 58% female, a bit under, and a huge proportion of those, a 'boomer' generation of millennials, were/are college age or just post and they tended to hang around in the centre.

Why?  Because it was glitzy, fun, safe for them in numbers.  Far safer than back near home.  Weird but it's the opposite of British towns - you'd not be caught anywhere near an Arndale Centre after 10 p.m. in our towns.  A similar thing to that Russian town was where I was in Sicily.  Many was the time I walked back late evening and it was perfectly safe, even though yoof were hanging about on the streets.

By way of contrast, it felt far less safe in France - feel free to disagree if you live there.

Why would parents allow their kids of 17 to 22 into town at that hour?  Because all the other kids were there too.  I do mean that - I went once with a ladyfriend to a nightclub/disco and half my students were there. GBH of the earhole it was, I had to usher my ladyfriend out again.

I sent that video to a couple of people and if they look closely, they'll see that demographic absolutely everywhere - if you turn 360 degrees, there they'd be.  I did write on it at the time at N.O. There was no escape.

Now that was one thing but there was one last piece to the puzzle - I was a specialist lecturer at many institutes across the city, plus a semi-public figure in the town, in short I was well known. So the chances of me walking along any of those central streets at any time and knowing no one at all was practically zero.  And as for my ladyfriend, she knew dozens too.  

Plus this was some years before tourism started - there were two resident males we knew of from Britain and I sometimes met the other one.  As you know, touristy places are more dangerous after dark - York, Chester for example are killing fields after dusk.  So was this town around 2007 but back in those days, it was not.  There was a sort of Eloi atmosphere.

And here's where this after dark video was mortifying. Made by a governmental body, it involved someone going through the city centre at night with a camera - what was mortifying to me was seeing countless people go by or the camera went by and - and I knew not one.  Readers may guffaw and say well what do I expect and I say that if it had been made in 2002, I'd have known at least some of those walking past, odds on.

And then I realise that that's 19 years ago now.  Any of those who were 19 then would be 38 now, well entrenched in what I was in the 80s - married life, dinner parties, the type of conversation married pairs have with other married pairs.

But there's a sad side to both situations.  Yes I knew literally hundreds of young people - some apparently still send their wishes according to my Russian mate - but there was no escaping the demographic.  Tied in by work ten hours a day, that's all one ever met.  If I took my lady to a cafe, the waitresses would be my students or if not, in tune with them.  

In the 80s on the other hand, every single person I knew was in the 30 to 40 range, there was no escaping it.  And dinner conversation was always the same.  Was the 2000s situation better?  Not really - there was perma-lack of maturity, there was no one in her 30s because they were all married and out in the sticks.  So both the 80s and 2000s were doomed for me, each in their own way.

Yet both are burned into my soul, both eras, and so that camera in that video going though those streets I knew so very well - subway over there, department store over the other way, the street lamps we used to stroll by, arm in arm - I noticed no one was doing that any more.

In short, it was no longer my town, I knew no one at all. I'm quite sure my mate or my ex would get me back in touch with a few of them and we'd have a jolly time over a few evenings ... but nothing permanent, nothing there for me any more.  In fact, I probably departed in good time in 2008, various things were closing in, not least money.  And similar is happening here now because of what the govt is about to do to everyone.

You can never go back, but neither can you stay - the wonder of change dontchaknow?  Now, take the boat I was building, let's say I'd made it to Port Phillip Bay about the time of Comrade Andrews in 2019/20 - I'd already been warned the place was overrun anyway.  You can never go back, but neither can you stay. Imagine trying for the Chinese Communist Republic of NZ - arrested the instant we entered the harbour.

You know what I see?  I see a repeat of WW2 and a huge refugee class: "Papers please!  Where's your ration book?  How can you eat if you have no ration book?!"  At least, that's what the Schwabs are aiming for.