…Because you, the British taxpayer, who are providing two-thirds of the funds from ‘central government’ (in other words, taxpayers cash), 23 percent from the national lottery (in other words, taxpayers cash) and the remaining 10 percent from London local authorities (in other words, Council Taxpayers cash) are paying for this heap of garbage!
My favourite film actor is Charlton Heston, with possibly Clint Eastwood and Orson Welles coming joint seconds. In his field of excellence, few can compare with Charlton for both the range of roles he played, and the emotions he passed across the screen to the viewers. But, as with many movie heroes, he has a favourite subject; and for Mr. Heston, his is on the subject of Gun Control. Who has not seen the famous clip where he brandishes a rifle whilst declaiming, “From my cold, dead hand!”? If he had not waved that weapon around whilst making his speech of defiance, he might, just might, have made a few more converts to the cause of the defence of the Second Amendment. These days of course, speeches such as that one are classified as ‘Top Spin’, and filed away in memory as the time when Mr. Heston came down a bit in some fans’ expectations.
From about five milliseconds after the news of the Colorado cinema ‘Batman’ shootings took place, the ‘Spin’ merchants commenced selling their bullshit across the radio waves, the web pages and the print pages of the West. Its all too obvious that the great stress placed upon the ‘facts’ that both guns and the enormous quantity of ammunition were ‘legally purchased’, is being targeted to a single goal, and that goal is the smallest chink in the so-far impenetrable wall placed around America’s Second Amendment.
The whole realm of liberal and anti-gun thinkers and legislators must be having wet dreams on the hour and every hour at the very thought of launching yet another attack upon the one American ideal which has proved impenetrable to their wheeling-dealing and blandishment; namely the right of every American, providing he has obeyed the Law, and has no warrants outstanding, to arrange the purchase and delivery of enough portable hardware to commence a private war on his neighbours.
I carried a revolver for around ten years, during the time I spent in South Africa, but once we returned to England I had no need, primarily because we live in a Society which, for the greater part, was crime- and violence-free. Apart from Cloud-Cuckoo Land, which of course is otherwise known as Northern Ireland, the general population had no need to routinely check who is either knocking on their doors, or following them down the street; because we obey the Law. Not so much these days, partly because the police themselves have become so politicised that many believe that Justice is reserved for Guardian readers! (But I digress). I carried a gun because I lived in a truly violent country, where life was cheap, and I was fairly certain that my life, as well as my family’s life and well-being, ranged much higher than some scum who thought he deserved my money or my possessions.
Consider the following tale, and then make your mind up about how dangerous life was in South Africa. My friend’s wife ran a bakery in Cape Town, and the staff all had to travel very early to commence work on time. This particular staff lady, on a Saturday, had to catch two buses, with a walk through an overgrown area of scrubland between the two buses. It was dawn, and she walked as briskly as possible, because the area was known to be dangerous. She came into a small clearing, and she saw maybe four or five young men leaning up against trees. She marched bravely towards them, and called out ‘”Morning” in Afrikaans. As one, the young men replied, “Morning, Mother,” and she passed by safely. Some ten minutes later, another early-morning worker walked into that same clearing, and lost his life as he was stabbed some ten times over a total of Fifty Cents from his pocket!
Don’t tell me what I have to do to protect mine, and I won’t tell you what to do to protect yours.
I have commenced a diet. I started, not because I was obese, or that my BMI (Body Mass Index) was indicating that my statistics were well above healthy levels, nor did I commence because I had a ‘image problem’; I wanted to lose weight because I was too fat! My heart was being stressed because of the increased bulk I was asking it to carry around, and I was in the danger zone for signs of diabetes and other illnesses. Which diet I am observing is perhaps my own business, as I do not wish to advertise anyone else’s products, books or websites; but I can confirm that I have so far lost 1 ½ Stones, or 21-odd pounds in ‘old money’ of course; in 39 days, which is not too bad. I try and stick to my diet, but had a small hiccup when I went out for a family dinner to welcome my late brother’s long-time lady-friend to the North-East, as she had brought his ashes back to us. I put weight back on, and lost around four days progress because of one meal of ‘forbidden fruits’!
I am telling the readership about small details of my life because, alongside the diet, I have also commenced a daily visit to a gym for exercise, as I need to get active again, even in a limited way. The gym is privately-owned and operated, and besides the normal items which it advertises, such as weight exercise classes, and functions, there also appears a large signboard for dance and community tutoring for children. Now the whole idea, to me seems beneficial and to be totally worthy and innocuous, but I think it a sign of the times in which we live that a prominent statement upon that same advertising signboard is the statement ‘All Instructors and Staff are CRB (Criminal Records Bureau) checked’.
It is not only a sign of the times, but also a reflection of the Society in which we live, that we live in a world which seems to reassure parents that all has been done for their children’s protection, but is in fact a legal veil behind which the organisers and operators hide behind in the event of some monstrous individual gaining access to small children under the pretence of being ‘Security Checked’.
Gallantry. It is a strange word, but the best definition is perhaps from the King James Bible:-Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.
In British military history, the measure of the greatest gallantry observed during combat is stated by the presentation of the Victoria Cross, an emblem so rare that there are only twelve living recipients of that honour. One medal was awarded to a Engineer Sergeant of the RAFVR, who climbed out of the bomber’s cockpit to attempt to extinguish a fire around the aircraft’s engine. Another was awarded, posthumously, toa Destroyer Commander who attacked and rammed the German heavy cruiser Admiral Hipper. This medal was also partly awarded on the recommendation of the Captain of the enemy Cruiser. Captain Fegan’s name also comes to mind when discussing bravery.
The British ‘Unknown Soldier’ was awarded the US Congressional Medal of Honor; while the reciprocal Victoria Cross was given to America’s ‘Unknown Soldier’.
I write this as I am vaguely uncomfortable with the advert for VitaBionics products being set alongside the picture of Private Johnson Beharry, VC, together with printed praise for the alleged beneficial attributes of those same products.
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Fire, Pillage & Plague 