The Net Is Closing

The globalist internet, and the doomed ‘newspapers’ scrambling in its excremental wake, have  discarded the idea of historical truth. For the newsmongers and their decrepit readership, truth is whatever was announced yesterday by a government  spokesperson or a ‘columnist’. Confession: I have been a ‘columnist’ but thank god, never a spokesman. Journalism has descended to the level of street-corner prostitution except in 2021 there's no 'happy ending' however much you pay.  

On the Dom-com platform of the swiftly closing net, “truth” is now whatever  the mech-tech censors of Google, Facebook , Twitter and Amazon permit to be read. Eager to please armies of faceless, nameless interns spend their days pushing buttons to protect permitted “truth” from external challenge. The truth of a mature, wise observer can be cancelled by an illiterate teenager with a stab of her fingertip.

Democratic government is now just tyranny with a smiley-face-mask, as MPs, Governors, Senators and other elected officials who dissent from the mainstream narrative are routinely censored, banned and muzzled at the whim of social media munchkins whose power is self-selected and illusory. But the herds of screen-obsessed morons are happy to permit this so long as they don't get cancelled. To these miserable sods, their online 'life' matters more than reality.   

WRONGTHINK  

Which works brilliantly for the wanabee Masters of the World. Without pause or thought, the corporate trolls memory-hole any and all dissent from their employer’s agenda. 'Wrongthink' is attacked as if thought itself has become the enemy. Perhaps it has. By the keystrokes of brainwashed children, we  are hammered, threatened and reviled until and unless we embrace the mindset of the Collective. History will soon be just a blogpost from a blue-check Twitterlord.  It’s a Reset thing, doncha know. As in "rewrite". 

Tiptoeing into this digital onslaught of selective propaganda and crass reinterpretation come the children of the twenty-first century, the poor bastards. The actual history of the world is being re-written around them even as they strain to score brownie-points from activist, politicised “teachers” who will urge six year-olds to share their own flimsy ideologies before addressing language or arithmetic.

In a society being crushed and fumbled into shape by navel-gazing control-freaks, there is no room for little people who long to think for themselves and can still count to twenty twenty-one.

BOOKS AT BEDTIME 

Like my brother before me, I used to walk thirty yards to a palace of literature, grab three books off the shelves and spend half the night lying awake, juggling the input. A ten year-old boy whose parents were ambitious enough to live next door to a library and push their children towards the wisdom they themselves were seeking. Nobody dared to police our reading, or demand our submission to a version of truth that had no substance. We were a family of  readers, exercising our brains. But that was in another century.      

Books are not dead yet. Non-establishment libraries of information –sporadically online but more importantly in print- still exist, in the way that heavy rocks persist on the shores of storm-lashed islands. A dwindling tribe of humans, prepared to study the actual past  before mouthing off about the hypothetical present, still meander on those shores, kicking lukewarm sand, studying the boulders.

But each day those glistening literary  tombstones look more and more like Easter Island statues: sad, solemn relics of a world no longer understood. And we book-readers appear (to the eyes of the screen junkies) like apes from a byegone age.

Alone  in the twilight, with crude but comforting physical icons (hardbacks and paperbacks)  cradled on our laps, we strive to laugh because we don’t wish to cry. The ignorant are sneering at the enlightened yet the irony goes unmentioned. ‘Irony’ of course, does not feature in the vocabulary of the infant/adult culture of 2021.

Ian Andrew-Patrick