Dazed and confused and way too much abused

Lockdown Protest 29th May
© Going Postal 2021

I must sincerely apologise to you all. GP regulars will have noticed a distinct dearth of output from yours truly since the turn of the year. I have not been sulking, just stunned. I have been really struggling to get my act together and feel a bit like the Norwegian Blue in the famous Monty Python sketch. I’m just utterly drained, emotionally and physically exhausted and my normal black humour is wearing thin as all vestiges of hope curl up and die like the burning embers of an unwanted Basildon Bond love letter. In short, I am idealistically burned out. Somehow, though, I’m getting better.

I’ve been here before many times, but this time at least I have sufficient self-awareness to recognise it for what it is. In the past I would batter on full speed ahead regardless, trying to burn the candle at both ends, only to come crashing down in spectacular fashion with a deep depression. This time it has more been a gradual anaesthetised descent, as the normal signposts and bearings of life have, one by one, been extinguished. Then, all of a sudden, I wake up, in the same way one does with a heart rending start when on the edge of unconsciousness. Instead of being in my warm, comfortable, safe bed, I find myself in some alien land, surrounded by monsters. What is worse still, is that my physical body can no longer deal with the natural reaction of “Fight or Flight”, so my only response is to lie there with a nauseous sense of Deja Vu. For I have seen all this shit coming down the turnpike for years and have been yelling at the top of my voice to all and sundry, but to no avail. It is a bit like waking up in the middle of an operation, the anaesthetic having worn off. Something my poor and abused adopted mother had happen to her during an enforced hysterectomy, but that is another story entirely. Indeed, the eugenics and population control agenda has been running for many years outside the gaze of the general populace. My darkest “Conspiracy theories” of many years ago are becoming reality for millions, and far from feeling the slightest bit of self-congratulation as to being pretty much on the right track, I am utterly disgusted with it all. It is all very well having a robust intellectual grasp of scenarios, but when it happens in reality it is a different matter entirely. It is no wonder that the police and the military are ravaged with PTSD, as the true visceral horror of an incident far exceeds any mental imagination.

This is not a personal pity party, for I am genuinely tormented by inaction like so many. “You can’t change the world” was the refrain hammered into me, literally and metaphorically. My adopted father, who had his photograph specially inserted into the dictionary under the word “Stoic”, was the archetypal “Grin and bear it” type. He was so Zen-like facing my rebellion against his authority that he would batter me to the point I would throw up. Even to this day I have a terror of vomiting and vomit, spawning from this and a particularly smelly tramp projectile vomiting over me in a Glasgow high street whilst out shopping with my parents one Saturday. To get any happy memories out of my childhood you have to dig very deep indeed, and most of these are when I’m on my own. Enforced isolation doesn’t hold the same fears for me as many, as I am relatively comfortable with my own company. I do enjoy quality friendships and relationships though. Nothing pleases me more than a decent home cooked meal around the table with trusted friends, copious alcohol, good discussion and humour. Give me that rather than riches any day. It is not that I dislike people, I am just discerning as to who I will allow into my personal space. If I don’t trust you, forget about it. The greatest irony though, is that to find out what people are truly like you have got to trust them first. Which is why the whole concept of treachery and treason on the current scale is so dark and wicked.

I could list all the “Triggers” that have contributed to my descent into this grey and pedestrian personal prison. The election fraud in the USA, the phalanx of UK politicians and media talking heads that have revealed their total commitment to insanity, the list is extensive. The comments section is emblazoned with the views, vernacular and vitriol of fellow Puffins, so I feel that I am just preaching to the choir reiterating these once again in a post. My silence is not that I disagree, rather that I am stuck like the proverbial rabbit in the headlights. I want to to do something, but I realise that the normal channels for expression of opinion are now so clogged with the cancer of “Woke” that they are worse than useless. The normal civilised avenues of democratic protest, writing to the press, your MP, demonstrating et al, are now so managed and infiltrated by astroturfing (professionally paid PR actors and lobbyists), they are useless, unless undertaken on such a large scale as to overwhelm these embedded fifth columnists. Any individual voice is lost in a dark sea of PC. Sadly, as a nation we have been co-opted into the latter group pretty much as a whole, as can be seen by the popularity and acceptance of the scamdemic. Normally rational and reasonable individuals, en mass, have literally become the turkeys that vote for Christmas. Such is the wickedness that they have turned the host against itself, very much like the spike protein in the therapeutic serum they have the temerity to call a vaccine. Edward Jenner now significantly contributes to the Green “Free energy” agenda by the rapid axial rotations he makes in his grave.

For the time being, I have tried to comfort myself that the best I can do is offer support and encouragement to like minded others. I am good at that, but I realise in my heart of hearts it is not enough. I could get myself arrested by handing out leaflets at a vaccination centre, but I realise I would quite probably encounter an “Accident on the stairs” at the local cop shop for my endeavours. Then what? Just another “Right wing nutter” would be the media epitaph for my grieving family. For I realise I am gradually loosing the few friends I have over my stance, which hurts me more than you can ever imagine. One very long standing friend made it very clear what they thought of me a some time ago, insofar that they hope I catch COVID and die. Many would walk away at that point, but I don my elephant impersonation and store it. I may forgive, but I refuse to forget. They are a long standing family friend, and their partner has already been struck down with a mysterious “Infection” that required minor surgery and a course of very strong antibiotics shortly after inoculation. It would be so easy to wish them a painful adverse reaction, but that is so contrary to my nature. Rather, I despair as how such a pair of clearly intelligent, well off individuals, who would be the first to rail against the culture of “Woke”, are so easily deceived. COVID is so clearly a cult, a spiritual lie of global proportions, softening us up for a new global parliament and great reset. The blowback, if indeed it ever comes, will be violent.

The reality is that I have been caught totally unaware on a number of fronts. I realised that we were heading to hell in a handcart, but I foolishly believed that once confronted with the reality,  that common sense and rationality would prevail amongst my fellow citizens. The difficulty with common sense though, is that it is not that common. As Einstein allegedly said “Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity”. I realised I would not be popular, as people have a visceral hatred for those that reveal the truth that conflicts or undermines their world-view. That is why intervening in an incident where a man is beating his wife is so dangerous, try and separate them and both will turn against you. We now have a classic abuse-abuser relationship on a mass scale, where the Stockholm syndrome prevents the abused from seeing the actions of the abuser as being anything other than heroic. The recent local elections being a case in point, if there was a genuine opposition, possibly the outcome would have been different. Most, sadly, voted for more of the same. What is staggering is that 5, 10, or 20 years ago, such policy would be political suicide at the local elections. Personally, I put this down to the lack of any cohesive and effective opposition in parliament, for we are now living in a homogeneous one party state.

Secondly, the anomaly of furlough payments has skewed the true dynamics of the “Pandemic”. Better historians than I can confirm or deny if I am talking absolute rubbish here, but paying people to stay at home during a pandemic is an entirely new concept. I don’t recollect reading about any such fiscal reaction during the Spanish Flu or Black Death outbreaks. I can appreciate such a move if the pandemic was genuine (albeit on a much smaller financial scale), as the financial hardship would be severe, but as one Twitter commentator succinctly put it, the lockdown has resulted in the middle class hiding behind their doors and prospering, whilst the working class expose themselves to the disease delivering stuff to them and take all the risk. If the financial rewards were removed from the former, or the Internet were to suddenly catastrophically break, I think the response would be very different.

Mrs R, as a care worker, has not had the privilege of sitting at home. As a vaccine dissident, she is currently employed in the big wide world with the sword of Damocles permanently dangling over her sweet, blonde head. This has put considerable pressure on our relationship, not because we disagree, but as to how we both move forward in such difficult times. Long ago I realised to walk the path of truth and principle almost always ultimately leads to death, as proven by many martyrs to the truth in the past. We live in a wicked world, and those who stand against it are not welcome. While I have come to terms with such philosophical wrangling, Mrs R has trodden fewer steps on this well worn path. It breaks my heart to see the fear in her eyes, for she has come to her own conclusions without any pressure on my part. I have always said it is a matter of conscience for the individual if they choose to take the shot or not. The best in all honesty that I can say about Peter Hitchens shocking volte-face is that I am sorely disappointed, in the same spirit that a father would use that phrase as a stern rebuke. I know I couldn’t even rise to that should Mrs R succumb, as PH is far better educated and informed about the perils of tyranny. Indeed, his choice stretches freedom of conscience to its absolute limits.  Regardless, the pressure that is being placed upon individuals to conform is diabolical. While personally I vehemently disagree with his stance, I totally understand it.

I am then only left with the consideration that I am misguided, misinformed and deluded. If the majority say it is OK, it must be fine. After all, where are the mass casualties if this population control agenda is actually in full swing? Surely if this whole thing is a conspiracy, it must be the greatest conspiracy of all time? I just need to look back in time and consult the history books to find the exactly the same argument played out with the identical tragic consequences. The First and Second World wars are good examples of that. “The war to end all wars” was a common catchphrase, and yet, while there was temporary relief post-war as the battered, bruised and wrecked nations rebuilt themselves and their political and social hierarchy, the song stubbornly remained the same. Tony Blair confirmed this when the greatest protest since the Poll tax riots were completely ignored. I honesty don’t know of anyone I have met, regardless of political stripe, who agreed with that war. While New Labour eventually paid the price at the ballot box, I can’t see the same scenario with the Conservatives. As long as Labour are as unelectable as they currently are, elections are effectively a box ticking exercise, if they ever actually were any else but.

Where we are headed is clearly defined in the recent hate crimes bill that passed muster in the Scottish parliament. To say I felt ashamed to be Scottish that day, is a gross understatement. It is an insult to every individual alive who prizes freedom of expression. The quisling politicians who supported and introduced this bill are not worthy of mention. They are worthy only of the purse of traitors, who traditionally were paid with execution until Blair rescinded that piece of legislation. Nowadays, such rhetoric, ironically, is “Hate speech”. You wonder why I haven’t written an article in nearly 6 months? I’m terrified there will be a knock at the door at 4:00 am if I truly say what I want to say. This, and the effects of increasing social isolation, scares the shit out of me. Not me personally as I have been around the block, but the implications for my wife and daughter who have led “Innocent” lives. As a family we have been round this loop already, as it was only the pleading of my wife (in her eyes), that led me to withdrawing standing as an independent MP in a previous election.

That is why I have been somewhat quiet of late. I have others to consider and I have had to bite my tongue. Unfortunately, the powers that be have not understood the wisdom of the wife of an armed policeman I used to know. She used to say “Something’s up, R is quiet”, and she was bang on the money. If I am silent, that means I am thinking. Generally being a proactive sort of individual, you can quite rightly equate thinking = plotting. The leafleting campaign outside vaccination centres was a trial iteration, but I have a number of friends I work well with who I can still bounce ideas off. One, which has come of age now, is to FOI local government as to the number of cremations they have processed over the past 10 years. By law, they have to keep this detail on publicly accessible  record. This has been done already to some degree, and it shows that Local Authority burials and cremations have stayed effectively level over the past few years.  The only way we will win this battle is to hoist the bastards with their own statistical petard.

The bottom line though, is we need to reach critical mass if we are to stop or indeed reverse this vicious travesty. I am no shrinking violet, but one voice or one mass demonstration is not enough. We need to coalesce across every conceivable barrier, irrespective of political stripe and say one very simple thing. Enough is enough. The innocent British public have been abused and tortured enough.

© Rookwood 2021

The Goodnight Vienna Audio file