There once lived a writer who gazed into the future and made a name for himself tracing the bewildering sojourns of hapless little individuals as they fall into the gargantuan maws of pointless rational organisations, pointlessly and rationally executing the bureaucratic and totalitarian procedures they are there pointlessly and rationally to impose. Cute of the US Navy, then, to choose as official spokesman for matters Guantanamesque a chap called Kafka
BRITISH LABOUR (1900 - 2004)
Perhaps Tory Blur is right about the sixties being the root of all the evils that now stalk the world. Perhaps he's not talking any old rubbish to take our minds off the pig's breakfast he's made of his turn at the levers. Perhaps the world really would be a better place if anyone unmale, unwhite, uncapitalised, unwell or uneducated in 1959 could only have been kept in their neatly circumscribed little boxes. Perhaps we'd all be sitting pretty now if only Wilson had sent shiploads of British squaddies to kill and die in the American invasion du jour.
Committed pluralist that I am, I have to respect people's right to think such silly things.
An Australian pluralist can't complain, of course. His compatriots have knowingly elected a man committed to feudalism, and that's the way the democracy crumbles. And, whilst Americans may not actually choose their president, most of them (even some unwhite ones, as long as they don't live in Florida) are at least allowed to express their opposition to reaction before reaction duly takes its throne. Any civilised Pom desirous of even that much political relevance shall have to vote Liberal Democrat next time. I don't know if that'd normally be an exciting enough prospect to get me out into the British murk on polling day, either, but it's simply gotta be done.
I'd whinge some more, but this
does it all so much better.
Oh, and regular bouts of blogorrhoeaic dismarrhoea remains some weeks off - not because I'm feeling any less dismal, but because my computer and blog provider are being more so.