Boris Johnson: The Raccoon-Whispering Cat-Lady

 

While Boris Johnson may seem as persistent as herpes, his grip on the body politic is loosening and he will -mercifully soon- be tossed into the wheelie-bin of history. I'm not particularly keen to add to to the landfill of memorial commentary on Johnson specifically, but he is a living summary of what passes for a 'successful politician'. He will accordingly be remembered by imitation and reproduction- in other words, expect to see more jokers like this one. For Johnson is that most modern of leaders : The Raccoon-Whispering Cat-Lady.  

Success in politics used to be measured by the changes a Prime Minister or senior Minister made that were generally agreed to have been  good ones. Lowering inflation, increasing employment, raising living standards, for example. But twenty-first century western politicians no longer even pretend to make 'good' changes. The most persistent among them have realised 'success' is measured simply by clinging on to office as long as humanly possible by any means necessary including teeth and claws.   

As readers probably know, no human activity is too sad, degrading or futile to escape the clutches of Youtube. Among the legions of the damned who toil on-camera full-time is a character styling himself 'The Raccoon Whisperer'. Morbidly obese, pitifully alone and obsessive, he has devoted years to attracting an ever-growing tribe of raccoon companions by feeding them every night on his porch. 

FAT COON-WHISPERER FEEDS PORKY COONS

 

No mystical animal/human bond has been created; no 'whispering' is involved, as attracting raccoons is not an art-form requiring a lifetime of study and experimentation. You just need a large bucket of raccoon food. I squandered about thirty seconds of life on this depressing mammalian circus before fleeing, but found, unasked, the image of  Boris Johnson rising like a bloated gas-balloon in my mind's eye. Was this not the ultimate political paradigm?

Every night the noble Raccoon-Whisperer sets up his camera, prepares bags and buckets of raccoon-bait, waddles out onto his bench, throws bits to the hastily-assembled mob of rat-faced four-legged freeloaders and bathes in the love he imagines them to feel for him.

Every morning Boris Johnson is surrounded by cameras, armed with soundbites of voter-bait, waddles out into his photo-op, chucks out some snappy quotes to the hastily-assembled mob of rat-faced two-legged freeloaders and basks in the glow of their fake smiles and flashlights. This is politics 2022; the Prime Minister as Raccoon-Whisperer. 

SCEPTICAL RACOONS SEE NO FOOD

Of course, a moment's thought leads to the realisation that Johnson and the racoon-feeder are really just cat-ladies. The cat-lady phenomenon is older than Whiskas, but took on a certain millennial poignancy in the aftermath of third-wave feminism. This was the extremist cult of 'wimmin can have it all' agitprop that propelled vast numbers of gullible females out of family-oriented life and into the wretched tug-of-war between hormonal drives and the demands of capitalism. Doomed to find satisfaction in neither, they end up childless and unloved, alone with the battered remnants of their feminist fantasy and a consoling army of cats.

The rise of the rad-fem cat-lady is a subject for another day, but how delightful that here should be the template for the Lords and Ladies of the Great Reset: miserable, self-excluded egomaniacs so lonely they resort to bribing the laziest creatures they can find. What subterranean depths of self-loathing you must reach, to willingly trade the last dregs of your human dignity for the parasitic loyalty of dumb animals. 

But looking at the likes of Johnson, Jacintha Adern, Justin Trudeau and Emannual Macron, it's not coincidental that all fail miserably to project the image of anything other than empty suits, devoid of normal social impulses. But they completely understand parasitic loyality, as possession of that quality has made their careers possible. In terms of their own twisted metric of 'success', their personal failings are offset by the determined and relentless grooming of the easily-satisfied couch-potatoes that elect them. Their gift is the knowledge of what hungry, lazy critters like to find in the feed-bowl -and how often to fill it up.

It's no secret that cats are exploitative, idle, self-centred, fickle and occasionally ruthless. The same can be said of many of the lower species, including raccoons, but this does not mean they are naturally incapable or unintelligent. A healthy raccoon can solve complex problems that would certainly defy infant humans. In the picture below, we see a raccoon's paw poised to unhook a latch that will set it free from captivity. In order to reach the latch, he has to lie in a certain position while extending his forearm through a small hole in the plastic cage-wall.  

 

The raccoon needs no coaching; he can figure the challenge out for himself. Amazingly, having solved such a problem, the raccoon will remember the technique used for up to three years. Coincidentally, the British political system demands a general election every four years. There is much to be learned from the cognitive reach of the raccoon.  

Choosing liberty over handouts is also the predicament of the longterm benefit-claimer or the public-sector wage-slave. With a certain amount of time and effort, an average, healthy citizen can organise their income and comfort for themselves, without the need of state help. We can, if we go for it, enjoy a pleasant degree of freedom in return for work. 

But at the point where a state-sponsored existence will reap the same -or greater- reward, the indolent, selfish citizen goes off the boil on self-starting. Is 'independence' really worth the hassle in the post-covid universe? 

A remarkable amount of teachers and college professors, for example, seem quite happy to roll into work but deliver nothing much in the way of education. Hardly surprising, when it's much easier to just read the woke mantra aloud and let the students roam free in a gender-focussed paradise of trigger-free ignorance. There are millions of such 'professionals' and they all vote. Add up all the lard-bellied local council employees, civil-servants and pen-pushers doing the absolute minimum for full-time wages. Throw in the legion of pretend-to-work-from-home keyboard-jockeys and we see a vast horde of pussycats and raccoons, growing plump on the promise of endless support -and they all vote. 

This is at least one potential reason for the otherwise inexplicable enthusiam so many people find for (a) the farce called 'democracy' and (b) creatures like Boris Johnson. I can understand why you might muster the energy to vote if you're content to sit at the bottom of the food chain in confident expectation of a regular slop-bucket of reward. Nevertheless, as their numbers continue to grow, the general perception among honest environmentalists is that raccoons are are a pest species that needs serious culling. Think on, humble voter.

(If you just can't resist, you can watch the actual Raccoon Whisperer on Youtube by clicking HERE) 

Ian Andrew-Patrick

99endof supports no political party or ideology. The individual is what matters here, and the freedoms for which we are now obliged to fight.
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