Hypocrisy

Today I’m going to try and be more measured – fuck knows why.

Okay, hypocrisy.

The government, made of sugar (an aftermath of the slave trade) and all things nice, is supported by Tory MPs who have consistently voted to (or turned a blind eye to):

  • Privatising the NHS
  • Voted not to increase NHS nurses’ pay
  • Slashed NHS and Social Care budgets
  • Introduced Universal credit as a punishment system for the poor and oppressed
  • Increase the spending on Mental health services and done nothing
  • Privatising the NHS
  • Promised to build 14 new hospitals (excluding the Nightingale)
  • Lauded their radical solutions of support for the aged but, done nowt Celebrated austerity

 Need I go on?

But all is well – their coronavirus plans and promises are in disarray – but nevertheless there they all were last night – including the bilious bibulous bonker bastard Boris outside number 10 – clapping his little fat piggy paws in praise of the NHS he sought to destroy – until he needed it! 

Until the government needed to cling to their privilege and let us die on their behalf.

In the First World War soldiers going into battle weren’t properly armed. In this ‘war’ the NHS isn’t either. Why not?  It couldn’t be because soldiers and nurses are predominantly working class and therefore expendable? Just as the old and infirm have been seen by Cummings and his preening poodle, shag-a-lot, Johnson, as natural waste. Or are these Tory c…ts  just totally fucking useless? 

Answers on an email please.

But they say ‘We love the NHS’.

Would I be correct in thinking that what they mean is – Fuck, we’re in the shit, and the only way out of not losing power is to come up with new bollocks about our love of the NHS?

Is this hypocrisy?

Capitalism, and in its neo-liberal iteration, is not for the benefit of all, but for the benefit, the PROFIT, of those who – currently – own the means of material and intellectual production. 

Doctors of medicine, metaphorically, sign the Hippocratic oath to care for the sick.

The lickspittles of capitalism, sign with the broken bones and the blood of all they oppress, their Capitalist oath, asserting their rights, exercising their duty, to exploit all in pursuit of profit and extol their virtues via the Daily Mail with the goodness of their hearts. 

Money, money, money, that’s what they adore.

And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

I have learnt that my rants become loquacious.

So, let me be focussed.

Hypocrisy? 

Until we call them out. Tell them they lie. Until we take responsibility, then we have nothing to blame but ourselves as we complain of our chains. 

We have moved beyond what Lenin said – arm the proletariat, not because it needs to defeat the ruling class but because it needs to defeat itself. 

We need to defeat our own cynicism. 

To do this we must abhor hypocrisy.

Make the world anew. Now is the time. The last time?

Unless we act we are the problem.

No ecocide. 

For the new better abnormal normal.

© Phil Cosker 03.04.2020

Covid-19

I have just had a very interesting conversation with an eminent oncological clinician, surgeon and academic.

I have received the very best of advice about the management of my cancer, Alowishus (leaving aside the details).

It’s simple.

  • Don’t get Covid19. Self isolate and don’t take risks.
  • Don’t get hospitalised with Covid.

Why?

In the current crisis ‘people’ will make decisions who don’t have the expertise to make those decisions.

If there are two patients who want to live and one has ‘cancer’, even if that isn’t going to immediately kill them, then the one without cancer will get treatment and the one with cancer won’t be treated because they’ll die anyway (wrong) because of scarcity – and ‘hard decisions need to be made’ when there’s not enough to go around. Those dying don’t need respirators. This is me! For fuck’s sake!

The dying don’t need respect as they expire – statistics.

Excuse me! What the fuck is this? Eugenics?

We all have the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness,

I have been angry for weeks with the government’s incompetence but now I have reached the limit of my tolerance.

There is a cynicism here that is beyond my understanding.

Come on folks, we all have the right to care and life and not be left to the decisions of politicians who only love their privilege, who lie, who spin their shit as if it was sweet candyfloss.

I piss on them.

What of our real stars, the nurses, assistants, researchers, doctors and administrators who believe in the Hippocratic oath and who will die ‘on the front line’ because of this government’s total failure to protect them and us, as we, fight for life?

When this is done there is a reckoning to come. We will not go back to the status quo. Organise now. This is an opportunity to make a new future for human kind.

  • An end to ecocide.
  • Stop climate change.
  • Invest in our NHS
  • TELL THE TRUTH!
  • People not capitalism.
  • Dignity, not oppression.
  • We will not be deceived!
  • We are not for sale.

Crisis?

Yep.

For us AND CERTAINLY for them!

Go well!!!

Ecocide

 

The Bumblebee

From the Squash blossom flies

Tired, pollen bathed and heavy eye lids dusty

150 million years of pollinating decried

Unknowing of dawning Ecocide

 

The Swift

Old enough to have seen T Rex in the flesh

Flies two million kilometres in its shift

No longer under my eaves reside

Unknowing of dawning Ecocide

 

The Koala

Iconic marsupial cuddly up a tree

Feeds on eucalyptus a priori

So dies trees expiring from Carbon Dioxide

Unknowing of dawning Ecocide

 

The Polar Bear

Can swim sixty miles without a break

Once smelling prey ten miles near

There is no smell the ice long fried

Unknowing of dawning Ecocide

 

Staghorn Coral

Architect of the subterranean deep

Bleached in warmer water, no food, not normal

Lodgers, clownfish. hornbill turtles, no longer abide

Unknowing of dawning Ecocide

 

Atlantic Cod

Cheap fish for every chippy battered feast

Over fished because of livelihood

An uncaring species’ genocide

Unknowing of dawning Ecocide

 

The Monarch Butterfly

Beautiful orange migrate 3 thousand miles

Their caterpillars left with milk wood dry

To die from herbicides and insecticide

Unknowing of dawning Ecocide

 

The Emperor Penguin

A happy Charlie Chaplin substitute

Happy feet say amen

On the long walk to its own regicide

Unknowing of dawning Ecocide

 

 

 

 

The Beluga Whale

Well meaning boated tourists

Motorised watching expeditions the Holy Grail

Destroying life, idly set aside

Unknowing of dawning Ecocide

 

The Leatherback Turtle

Lays eggs on disappearing beaches

Ever more hatching females infertile

Their hoped for progeny denide

Unknowing of dawning Ecocide

 

The Flamingo

Mann’s pretty pink flamingo not a pretty tune

A lost overture that made shrimps agogo

A colour on the palette atrophied

Unknowing of dawning Ecocide

 

The Climate Change Denier

Celebrating fossil fuel profits

Spitting on what others call Guya

Flouting science with such pride

Not giving a toss about Ecocide

 

 

 

Today’s Idiocies

There are three articles in today’s Guardian – just in case you missed them here are the headlines and a brief summary. They made me angry.

Page 13: ‘Amazon gets HMRC contract after halving its own tax bill

In 2018 UK central government paid Amazon £45.5M for digital services while Amazon only paid £1.7M corporation tax on a declared UK profit of £72M to HMRC for the relevant tax year.

Why is central government happy with this and content to allow Amazon to tax dodge?

Page 16: ‘Only 13 of 91 Windrush victims given aid despite “apology”’

Despite the piety and hand wringing of government concerning the lives wrecked by that same government only 16 of the 91 Windrush victims who applied for financial help have been ‘given’ ‘aid’.

What’s happened to the remaining 78 victims?

Page 35: ‘Arts under fire Universities rail at “catastrophic” plan to link fees to graduate pay’

The Augar report on student fees implies that there should be less spending on arts & humanities degree courses because the investment in such courses does not represent value for money when measured against early career earnings of arts & humanities graduates.

Why is former equities broker, Augar, allowed to aid and abet the further commodification of education where the only value is monetary?

These may be details of the bigger picture but the devil is in them. Though, I am, of course, powerless to make a difference to any of these outrageous idiocies, I can’t help thinking they are emblematic of this stage of capitalism where people are objects, money is god and cynicism is the life blood of the Tory government.

And all this is happening in the midst of the lunacy of the Tory leadership contest after which we’ll be foisted with a new prime minister of a minority government that has no mandate from the electorate.

I have one last question.

Why is the BBC, morning, noon and night, providing a racetrack, where the going is good, for the threadbare donkeys running in the Tory number 10 stakes?

 

The Wych Elm

wych elm

Tana French ‘The Wych Elm’

There are books and there are BOOKS!

‘The Wych Elm’ is astonishing.

Scrupulously, and brilliantly written from the protagonist’s point of view there is nothing allowed beyond the narration of Toby’s direct experience, tortured memory and/or imagination. I was so enmeshed in the narrator’s understanding, or lack of comprehension, of himself, and his history, that I almost came to doubt my own grasp of what ‘certainty’ might mean. The ensemble of characters, the detail of their behaviours and their ignorance of their realities is bewyching. No spoilers here – but as I finished the last page I was bereft, immensely sad and overwhelmed.

It is, ostensibly, a crime novel, which makes as much sense as saying that Dostoevsky’s ‘Crime and Punishment’ is a ‘thriller’. I hadn’t read any of French’s work until this book – I shall remedy that oversight.

Do read this fantastic book.

Don McCullin

Don McCullin

Don McCullin’s exhibition at Tate Britain is profoundly moving, perplexing, and, ultimately joyous.

The galleries were crowded. I had to go round one room in the opposite direction to avoid two people who, standing in front of the horrors of war, were laughing while happily talking about their recent holidays – were they blind?

I am familiar with many of McCullin’s photographs but in the majority of cases in reproduced form in magazines – it was inspiring to see his own prints made exactly the way he wanted.

By the time I reached the final room – that containing his landscapes and still lives – I was overwhelmed by the dedication and passion McCullin has used over so many years to represent the human condition in the worst of circumstances of war, famine and deprivation. His photographs capture the feeling of pain and suffering and it’s not just because the prints are dark – it’s because he feels, cares, and it comes across in his photographs so that I was nearly in tears. But then there was a moment of epiphany – I’ll come back to that.

What is both perplexing and saddening is that the lessons we learnt when we first saw the images from e.g. Biafra and Vietnam have faded. The men living on the streets of Shoreditch years ago are no different from the rough sleepers that now abound thanks to austerity and the destruction of the Welfare State. We are still responsible for war and the misery it causes – the Yemen and Syria to name but two. I found myself asking what was the point? Maybe the point is that the work exists, it was made, it was, is, true, evidence, and that we choose to ignore it at our peril.

His landscapes. The moment of epiphany. The realisation that in the ‘natural’ world, as rendered through his lens, there is beauty beyond measure.

McCullin has said

“So, there is guilt in every direction: guilt because I don’t practice religion, guilt because I was able to walk away while this man was dying of starvation or being murdered by another man with a gun. And that I am tired of guilt, tired of saying to myself: ‘I didn’t kill that man on that photograph, I didn’t starve that child.’ That’s why I want to photograph landscapes and flowers. I am sentencing myself to peace.”

Maybe the joy in these landscapes, this celebration of life and peace, would not have been so profound without the horror, without the guilt, and there would not be this beauty?

It was one hell of a price this man, this photographer, had to pay.

Thank you.