“Maggie it’s your turn with the electrodes…”
I have a lot of British friends on Facebook and I love them dearly. Coming from an Air Force family I grew up around a lot of Brits, Kiwis and Aussies. Contact with those subjects of the crown shaped a large part of me into who I am and what I like. I even surprised one mate when I “Outted” myself as a Gerry Anderson fan recently. British people I love you, you are to America and Americans like myself the older brothers or sisters.
Over the years you have acted in good faith as an older sibling should in tell America where it has gone wrong, often in a subtle and loving “Why are you hitting yourself?” sort of way. You have told us that we are FAT BASTARDS, when you could get it out between pints of Stout and bites of Scotch eggs and sausage rolls. You have told us we are complete MORONS when it comes to cars whilst driving to work in your Vauxhalls. You remind us how cataclysmically nieve we are about the media, as you read your morning copy of NEWS OF THE WORLD. All I can say as a devoted little brother from the wastelands of California is THANK YOU SO MUCH.
Recently Britain suffered the loss of former Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, you may have read about it in the papers…or in the never ending yammer-a-thon on my News Feed on Facebook. I get from that feed that the majority of my British friends feel pretty much about Mrs. Thatcher the way I feel about our late President, Mr. Ronald Reagan (or RONNIE RAYGUN as I always loved to call him). Being a native son of California I had the unique opportunity to vote against Ronnie 4 times. Given the opportunity I would have increased that count, the number of times it increased being a direct function of the number of times I was given the opportunity. I did not like then man nor did I agree with any part of his politics. When he passed I wasn’t sad, I wasn’t happy I wasn’t numb or anything like that. He had become a sad, reclusive old man with Alzheimers living out his days from pudding cup to pudding cup.
In their Heyday “Maggie and Ronnie” were the darling of the Neocon scene, rolling in piles of money from supporters with glazed over eyes. The two of them working in concert made it OK to be mean spirited and insensitive to other people and thus they set our society’s brogan’s on the path to the total cock-up that we are all living in today. If two people can be called to accounts for having looked at everything that was achieved by the working man from the Victorian era up to the Swinging fifties and saying “it has to go”, it is these two darlings. If you lived through it or read about it this is obvious. At the same time when someone passes there are certain proprieties that should be respected. Funerals are not for the dead, they are for the living. They are meant to bring closure to those who are left behind, to release grief etc. When dealing with the finality of death there should be some measure of dignity, no matter what you feel about the deceased.
So it is in the spirit of a dutiful “little brother” that I respectfully say to my British siblings:
“You are acting like a load of TWATS (to use your own parlance)!”
I say this in response to the video of an old song from the Wizard of Oz running around the internet like a Guy Fawkes clone on Crystal Meth in an attempt to make some pseudo FOX NEWS brand statement by getting the song to number 1 on the charts. I will pass over the easy dig about how that spot was taken by Duke Dumont’s NEED U , too damn easy bro. I will also pass on indignation that you would use images, no matter how badly doctored in After Effects of Photoshop, of Margaret Hamilton for your little escapade (she was a good actress, an advocate for education and animal right and a mom/grandma). What I will say that your bitter little meme just makes you wind up looking like dicks and makes you an easy target for the media, a media that is owned and operated in large part by the people Maggie and Ronnie helped get there.
I will also let you in on a secret about what you are going to see in the coming months. Margaret Thatcher’s name on airports, building, motorways and anything else that is large enough to hold a bronze plaque. When it happens rest assured that no amount of dickery and picketing and rending of your hemp work shirts will stop it. The fact remains that we have reached a tipping point in the development of our society, the point where it doesn’t matter how badly we out number them they have the money and the power. Why? Because back in the eighties more people bought into their lies then saw through them and as a result let them do what they wanted.
Now before you spill your fried eggs and Heinz baked beans all over the page three girl and rise in universal indignation, chill out. Before you INFORM me that Thatcher was ousted by her party and vanished from public eye in disgrace etc etc know that I love you and I have survived Pommy political tirades in the KING’S HEAD in Santa Monica so I know where you are going. Take a look at all the policies that Thatcher put in place and see how many of them are still in place…and how many times your MP (the ones you voted for) voted for them.
On both sides of the pond I hear a lot of voices shouting long and hard about the state of the world and who is to blame, none of these voices pausing for even the briefest of seconds to maybe consider that they should take a look in the mirror. To that I will add that if you can think it is appropriate to act like twelve year olds who have just discovered iMovie on your parent’s computers I must say as your loving, respectful little brother: