Norrie T MacDonald
As I mentioned last time out, it’s difficult to comprehend (even when compared and contrasted with some previous, admittedly pretty awful, governments) just how much of a pigs ear our trans-Atlantic buffoons have been making of things lately.
Johnson, looking ever more like a dishevelled cartoon character, continues to play hide-and-seek with the electorate while trying to defend the indefensible, refusing to answer any difficult questions and rambling incoherently.
He is presumably of the opinion that his ‘massive’ intellect and expertise in Greek and Latin should suffice those of us incapable of understanding quite how the plague that hit Athens in 430 BC and killed his hero, Pericles, is of any relevance at all.
Muppets we all, surely are.
We, the hoi-polloi (see what I did there?) have to abide by what Lord Snooty (Rees Mogg) and his chums say, not, evidently, what they do.
I see folks attempting to defend their reaction to this crisis in terms of ‘they did their best, given the scientific advice; it’s not the fault of government ministers’.
I happen to disagree.
They learned nothing from King Canute.
A 14-day quarantine now, for all arriving visitors, won’t bring back any proportion of the already 40,000 dead.
You can tell how far we’ve fallen as a country when we need Piers Moron to act as our moral barometer and to, daily, be relied upon to hold our politicians to account.
Of course, he has his own agenda in all this.
The scandal of his Viglen insider trader dealing, followed by several incidences of phone-hacking while editor of the Daily Mirror may have been largely glossed over, but we should applaud his efforts to make, at least partial, amends.
As Domhnall “l’Easaidh (Easy)” MacLeod, a former convenor around these parts famously said: “Every saint has a past and every sinner a future.”
Maybe Moron’s future is in the cabinet.
His pedigree, it has to be said, is impeccable.
Meanwhile, my Tong cousin continues to golf while New York undertakers prosper.
Terrified of losing control in November, he turns his attention to perceived wrongs of the past.
For a man with so little, acknowledged, ‘higher education’; history has never been a strong point.
When it comes to diplomacy, this should be a basic pre-requisite, yet he continues to bluff and bluster his way through every scenario without any fear of contradiction.
That’s what happens when you sack those with years of hard-earned expertise, specifically employed to advise, because they disagree with you; and stick, fanatically loyal, to those acolytes and bootlickers who blindly validate your every utterance.
How this pathetic excuse for a President should remotely have the slightest chance of another four-year stint in November is quite beyond most rational people (outside America, obviously).
I recommend you read ‘Donald Trump:The Unmanly President’ by Tom Nichols and try to figure out for yourselves why people plump for the most ludicrous of options.
Lately, I’ve been listening to the excellent podcast ‘Philosophise This’ and in particular ‘Carl Schmitt (a somewhat dodgy Nazi) on Liberalism’ and ‘Consequenses of Reason’ in an effort to try to understand the current political ‘situation’.
It’s worrying stuff.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the most powerful person on this planet right now is Mark Zuckerberg, and the manipulation of democracy is our biggest threat.
But were things better before we all had a, by-the-minute, avalanche of tailored information designed to influence everything that we do, from how we shop to who we should vote for?
That we’ve all emerged from the past, blinking and spluttering into our brave new world, better informed, therefore less likely to be prejudiced or in any way phobic; should, by inference, be taken for granted.
At least by those of us with access to all the facts and, hopefully, able to determine Shinola from the other stuff.
At Comhairle recently the subject of PSE (Personal and Social Education) came up and was the subject of some debate.
Now I wouldn’t ever describe myself as a prude, a conservative and certainly not the first person people would consider in the role of moral arbiter; but an amendment raised certainly had me investigating further what was being proposed as ‘guidance’ for our schools.
I looked back over how things have ‘evolved’ since Mr MacCormack, my Nicolson Institute Guidance teacher, and Mr MacDonald in Biology, explained to us how things worked, what the ‘bits’ did, where they went and what happened afterwards.
We were warned to be careful as the results could be life-changing.
Life-threatening if she was a Hearach.
We’ve all now become accustomed to being asked, when filling in forms, what gender we identify as.
You may possibly (I was not) be aware that there are 58 gender ‘options’ that you can opt for, from ‘Agender’ to ‘Two-Spirit’.
No, I didn’t look it up: is a fondness for Bunnahabhainn and Harris Gin a gender?
We’ve become used to the fact that there are enough ‘sexualities’ in between ‘heterosexual’ and ‘sapiosexual’ for everyone to have a ‘handle’ that fits them appropriately.
If not, and we find a guga-fetishist who likes to wear full Helly-Hansen whilst licking a melted Magnum through a snorkel, off their partner during the Heb-Celt; then suggestions, please, on a postcard.
It’s become a minefield as everyone now has, apparently, the right to ‘identify’ as anything they like, and can demand that we all recognise them as such.
There is a ‘pansexual revolution’ happening and the younger generation, apparently, realise that rigid definitions of sexuality are on the way out and that ‘anything goes’.
I have no issue with this, whatsoever.
Each to their own.
From sniggering at the mention of ‘homosexuality’ in school, I’ve managed to evolve into the ‘ubersexual’ that I’d sincerely like to hope I’ve become.
No, it’s not that.
I have homosexual friends and fully understand the dangers that repressed sexuality present to those struggling to come to terms with ‘who they are’.
We need to be understanding and compassionate in all cases.
We have become completely accommodating to the requests, from any and everybody, to be recognised.
However, in this absolutely whitewashed, politically correct, world; we have become too afraid to call a halt to the rise of some dangerous nonsense.
And it particularly concerns the most vulnerable in our society: our children.
The absolute minefield of gender identity and the use of gender denominated toilets for a kick off.
Interfering in the development of young children as people contemplate the use of pubertal blockers in the cases of gender dysphoria.
Some of this stuff I wasn’t remotely aware of until it was brought to my attention by a very concerned parent.
Similarly, much of the material included in the proposed PSE to be rolled out in our schools.
Now while we have been assured that it will be entirely at the discretion of our teachers to decide on the suitability of the subject matter to be delivered to ‘target audiences’ ranging from 6-18 year olds; even a gnarled old ‘man of the world’ like myself struggled to understand why some of it was deemed remotely suitable at all in any classroom environment.
This was beyond the ‘Jenny has two Daddies’ or ‘Freddy the Farmer loves Donald the Digger Driver’.
I’m ok with that and anything that better explains the LGBT, LGBTQIA and, if anyone would like to try, the SPFL.
But this was some way ‘north’ of that.
Now I’ll admit that I didn’t have to make an internet search to understand some of the terminology used, but I did allow myself a wry smile at the notion of some Free Church Elders being reported to their synod for misuse of their Google account, particularly if their wives or partners were looking over their shoulders.
I certainly don’t align myself with any of the more ‘extreme’ views promulgated by some in our religious community, I’m a bit more liberal than that; but when I’m broadly in agreement that a line may be being crossed, trust me, it probably has (or could be).
Some of the activities described would require the use of a trapeze, some Swarfega, a mirror and some particularly strong mouthwash.
Maybe some decent medical cover and a team of horses heading in the opposite direction, just in case.
There’s an old joke where the question is asked, “What’s the difference between kinky and perverted?”.
The answer being that ‘kinky is when you use a feather, perverted being where you involve the chicken’.
I realise that most of our kids might well be beyond where we were at a similar age, thanks to Tim Berners-Lee; but there are sex education cartoons and there’s Foghorn Leghorn.
As the father of two children myself (aged 29 and 27), I’d baulk at delivering some of the ‘lessons’, presumably targeted at the eldest pupils, even to them.
Some things are eminently sensible and suitable, some are not.
I’m sure that an acceptable resolution will be found after the matter is discussed further.