Written by Samurai Robots.
Whatever else they might be, I think we can all agree that those on the left are not, in the main, a bunch of thankers. Far from cheering on our great country, Marxists, feminists, and uncountable other such mid-witted critical theorists prefer to spend their time bad-mouthing every aspect of British culture, from capitalism (whatever that word even means these days) to gender roles (ditto). Luckily for us, they are very smart – they read books you see – and they’ve come up with a brilliant solution, which is to tear down Western civilisation. These moaning geniuses hate the native population of Britain, to the extent that they deny not only our existence, but our right to exist as well. It’s ironic because judging by their mugshots – in which they all seem to look like King Joffrey with a severe meth habit – they loathe themselves the most of all.
Now, all that said, I do wonder: are the rest of us much better when it comes to appreciating our lot? Modern society constantly pushes us to make more money, spend more, consume the latest branded crap, and so on. We live in a world of Instagram influencers and the like whose purpose is apparently to make you envious and depressed. And yet, chasing the latest soon-to-be-obsolete tech and whatnot is somehow less and less about sparks of joy and more and more about marks of soy. Even financially successful people find that however much money they have, they want more, leading some to make and lose fortunes. For me personally, happiness, which I tend to think is overrated anyway, is a temporary state obtained only upon hearing the lamentations of crying communists, raging remoaners, and other such triggered troglodytes, the more voluble, the better.
This leads me on to a confession: I suffer from a sort of intermittent imposter syndrome, which is a psychological phenomenon in which an individual doubts their ability or talent and feels they will one day be exposed as a “fraud“; however, it’s not with respect to myself, but in relation to Meghan Markle, at least when the news cycle shoves her in my face. While not technically a faker per se, Her Royal Highness the Douchess of Sussex, to use her full title, seems to me to be the epitome of the modern woman. Since marrying into a life a lottery winner could only dream of, the newly-entitled princess has taken every opportunity to lecture us commoners about our privilege, before ditching her royal duties and dragging her harried husband off to America to dish the dirt on the British royal family and offer her sage advice to the American voting public.
One would hazard a guess that her Majesty would describe her as an “anus horibilis”. You wonder how the whole car crash saga will end. I suspect Harry will be completely traumatised by the inevitable acrimonious and alimonious divorce and the realisation that we all think he’s a mug and a mark while Meghan Markle herself will be reduced to a pitiable existence living on prescription drugs and appearing in tawdry tabloids all the while wondering why her former Hollywood “friends” now avoid her. It’s not so much a Disney fairy tale as a remake of the emperor’s new clothes, only this time the emperor’s an annoying Kim Kardashian-wannabe and the clothes are second hand social justice ideas. Now that I think of it, the phrase “car crash” could be prophetic if past experience is anything to go by.
Another celebrity, Russell Brand, says that money and fame and sleeping with beautiful women didn’t bring him happiness. While I’d prefer to judge the truth of that for myself, thanks all the same, I can’t help but notice that this sort of discontent among the rich and famous seems to follow a pattern. Of course, taking heroin and crack probably didn’t help Brand appreciate the smaller things in life. I admit I haven’t actually read his books, but he apparently speaks out against addictions and promotes an anti-drug message these days and is doing all the better for it. He’s also taken up Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, which, and I speak from experience here, is a dreadful addiction in itself, not to mention probably worse for your body (and for some their ego) than cocaine. On the other hand, I’ll say this: I’ve regretted sleeping with women in the past, but never going to BJJ class.
You do wonder why these slebs are so compelled to lecture us plebs on our political beliefs though. Perhaps the real mystery is why they can’t do it with a smidgen of self-awareness in lieu of ganging up to croon “Imagine” on Instagram or the like. You may say I’m a dreamer, but instead of getting naked on Twitter or dog-piling J.K. Rowling, perhaps they could teach us about, oh, I don’t know, Panamanian banking regulations, or who in Hollywood they really wouldn’t want babysitting their kids. We’d be all ears, honestly. Alternatively, they could always just shut the fuck up. It’s not the fact someone has more than me that bothers me, I don’t even mind the moralising if it’s done well, it’s the fact these people are clearly just lucky morons that irks.
The tragedy is that, like so many things, I suspect it’s our own fault for encouraging this sort of behaviour. For my part, I do sometimes feel a commonality with people like Brand, despite his leftism and general Papa Lazarou-like vibe, who seem to see through the Matrix to a certain extent. I confess to having one or two misgivings myself about people like Jeff Bezos becoming the almighty rulers of our globalist dystopia. We all realise that our society is deeply flawed, well done us I suppose, it’s just that the oh-so-smart-and-kind Left puts the blame in all the wrong places, i.e. on White people, at which point the conversation ends.
If we were to play a game of Family Fortunes with the topic “Things you never hear anyone say”, it’s my guess that “Thanks, White people!” would be top by a long margin. Even the supposed god-emperor and racist-in-chief himself, Donald Trump, can’t bring himself to mention White people – his own voter base! – in a positive light. Trump derangement syndrome seems to affect not only his detractors, but his supporters as well, to say nothing of the man himself. That said, I hope he wins in November, simply for the pleasure I will take in watching the left cry. I have a name for this pure and innocent form of joy: scha-Dem-freude.
Another group that seems particularly lacking in the gratefulness department is the recent wave of migrants to Europe. Am I crazy to think that if you’re forced to flee abroad because France is so terrible, you probably ought to show some gratitude when provided with four-star accommodation, or at the very least not stab the other guests? Is that not basic etiquette? I feel like an irritated Sam Gamgee trying to explain ‘taters to a perplexed Gollum. “What’s etiquette, precious?” “E-ti-quette! Say please, give thanks, don’t burn down your camp!” Of course, there’s a difference between simply saying thank you and actually feeling grateful. Perhaps our new friends should think about what they could offer to their host country? I’ve tried and I’ve got nothing so far.
As I say, we all want a better society. Could being grateful be the key to making Britain great again? If you call yourself a nationalist, you’re well aware that the current social order is idiotic and it might seem hard to find some gratitude when everything is going to shit, sans paddle. Our political system is a distraction, a cheap Punch and Judy show in which squawking marionettes spar meaninglessly over trivialities at the behest of their puppet masters while avoiding real issues such as debt and demographics. Truly draconian times are assuredly on the way and the Britain of even twenty years ago now seems like a lost paradise.
Epictetus, a Greek Stoic philosopher, said that “He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has.” Shoehorning in Greek philosopher quotes to add a thin veneer of depth to your rants may well be a cheap trick, but I ask you, are things really that bad? Well, yeah, maybe, but let’s not forget that our ancestors endured vile situations far worse than lockdowns and I think we might want to thank them for that. There are surely things we could do right now to promote our well-being and perhaps even inspire our own descendants to venerate us for our sacrifices one day. If you still truly believe you have no reason to be grateful, why not start by doing something each day that your future self will thank you for?
Thanks for reading folks.