Politics

Rambling River Run Repeat #9

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We’ve been in Germany for a few days now and I was feeling uneasy. Something was wrong. Something was missing. Was there a Zulu horde just over the next hill, shadowing our every move or were we a modern version of the Roman legions about to be vanquished in the Teutoberg Forest. It was quiet…too quiet. Then there it was. Not welcome or reassuring in the least but disdainfully expected. The wump, wump, wump of thousands of windmills. If they could move like so many triffids Custer’s Last Stand would have been like a paper cut. But with all of the trouble in the Middle East, a ready replacement for fossil fuels has to be a good thing, right? Apart from the oil you have to put in them to keep them running. And you can’t strap one to the roof of your tractor. Enough of that.

There’s a part of Barvaria called Franconia which sounds like a cross between France and some medieval Disneyworld and while it’s people aren’t a Germanic equivalent of your average French waiter they are the opposite of those occupying the happiest place on earth. The locals say that if a Franconian is smiling it’s because they’re drunk which I guess is a good thing because if drunks are required, you want happy ones. Sober Franconians on the other hand, aren’t the type of people you invite to a party (unless they get drunk on the way). “It could be worse” is about the most enthusiastic complement you will lever out of a Franc or Frances apparently. The legendary German sense of humour must have had its origins here.

In the past, property in this part of the world was worth more if it was covered, at least to some extent, with grape vines. I guess there also had to be someone nearby with the wherewithal to turn their fruit into booze (otherwise what is the point) but that doesn’t appear to have been part of the contract. Anyway, there are grape vines up and down the Rhine and Main Rivers’ valleys with up being the operative word. Building terraces or heaven forebid, growing on flat land is for pikers. You have to assume there were property scams a-plenty judging by some of the vineyard locations. How you can successfully manage a block of land which would be more accessible if it was on the side of an Egyptian Pyramid, is beyond my comprehension.

I started writing this episode a few days ago. We’re now in Amsterdam, in the departure lounge of our boat, which for the last three weeks was the bar. We’re parked next to a large blue cruise liner which is currently home to 1000 refugees. When we got off our boat yesterday to do a canal cruise and look at tulips which are now blooming, we were told to keep our belongings close and beware of pickpockets. I draw no link between the two.

Adieu until the next adventure, or unless I think of something else to write about in the meantime.

Rambling River Run Repeat #8

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I thought of something to write so disregard #7. But before we get onto Germany, a bit more on Austria. You my dear readers, know this isn’t a travelogue where you can read about what best sights to see or hotels to stay in. I’ll leave that to travel agents. We’ll talk about other stuff here.

We’ve recently been to Salzburg (not to be confused with Strasbourg as I frequently do) and if you didn’t know, Salzburg is famous for Mozart and The Sound of Music. They also gave us yodelling, according to them – not something I would mention in polite company. Had they also gifted the world rap music, their work would have been complete.

The guides on this trip have been tremendous and our guide in Salzburg was no exception. At every stop on the walking tour, there was a Sound of Music link…and she’s a singer so it was like being guided by  a South African (for South African she is) Julie Andrews. We got the whole sing-song repertoire. But at the end she became a (metaphorical) horse. Before you affect offence by proxy, I mean, like a working horse, as soon as we turned for home the pace accelerated markedly, much to the chagrin of the athletically challenged in our group. An international incident was avoided by a tactical change-up. I’ve never understood why “change-up” means “slow-down” when it should mean “speed up”.

When it comes to attitude to table service, the Eastern Europeans love us, the Austrians are indifferent and the Germans have turned into the French. The EU has a lot to answer for in the overall scheme of things but this development is ridiculous. We’ve all encountered the French waiter of legend but how did this become a German thing? Are the French infiltrating and blaming Germany for some implied slight? Surely the French can’t blame the Germans (everyone else can – Angela Merkel specifically) for cultural assisted suicide because France was already Algeria with attitude when the migrant tsunami smashed through non-existent borders (Poland and Hungary notwithstanding). But I digress (as usual), as this has only a tenuous link to table service..

To further flog this digression, we have just been to Nuremberg and there’s a very nice statue there surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The fence had a ring built into it a few hundred years ago and if inclined you can spin the ring and it will grant you magical fertility powers. Or something. Anyway, we saw this about eight years ago and back then it was in an easily accessible square. It wasn’t in a square protected by freedom bollards, placed to prevent people of irrelevant ethnicity accidentally ploughing their vehicles into crowds of unsuspecting people, usually around Christmas time. But it is now. Something has irrevocably changed so you can understand why your average German service provider might be somewhat pissed and not in any mood to indulge tone-deaf foreigners like us when they’ve got plenty of their own to deal with.

Rambling River Run Repeat #6

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Spring in Europe – snow in Romania, 6 degrees but feels like minus 2 in Vienna and 4 degrees but feels like minus 4 in Durnstein. Where’s global warming when you could do with a bit. I’m guessing but maybe this means not as much melted snow is finding its way into the river. The last time we did this trip, in summer, the water level was too low so we had to bus half of the journey – the half we’re in now. At this time of the year the danger (to tourism) is too much water meaning the boats can’t get under the low bridges. Having successfully negotiated the stretch between Budapest and Vienna and now Vienna to Passau, we are in front.

There’s a valley between the Carpathian Mountains and the Austrian Alps which the Danube flows through and extends into the Wachau Valley west of Vienna. The Ottoman Turks regularly poured through this valley taking out Bulgaria, Romania and Hungary as they went but they never got past Vienna. The Battle of Vienna stopped them in their tracks. The largest cavalry charge in history -18000 men and horses – had the Mohammed’s searching for reverse on their carpets on September 12 1683. Then as now, the Poles were at the forefront of keeping uninvited guests out of their country thanks to their king, John III Sobieski who led the charge. The two month Siege of Vienna finished September 11 1683, considered to be the last day the Ottomans had the upper hand in Eastern Europe. Some pundits suggest this is why terrorist scum chose that date for 9/11 in 2001. The only thing that pours in the Wachau Valley now, is wine. And long may it continue.

Now the same area around Vienna has been successfully conquered by hundreds of wind turbines. If HG Wells’ War of the Worlds was written today, in Austria (or Germany or any number of other numbskull jurisdictions) it would be considered a work of non-fiction. Interestingly, immediately on crossing the border into Bratislava in Slovakia, the bird mincers ceased to be like so many dead parrots. I guess the Slovakians had enough of unaccountable, unelected bureaucrats telling them what to do from 1945 to 1989. Not any more.

Speaking of the border between Austria and Slovakia (or Czechoslovakia pre 1989), we breezed through without slowing down yesterday. In 1988 we’d have had to risk being electrocuted by an electric fence or being shot. But let’s try communism again like the Mayor of New York is laughably attempting now although we’ll have to build more electric fences to stop idealistic jackasses flooding in – not. So popular was it considered to be (1956 Hungary and 1968 Czechoslovakia notwithstanding), the commies felt compelled to build the largest housing development in Europe or the World (or something). 120,000 people live there on the outskirts of Bratislava. That’s one hell of a block party.

Rambling River Run Repeat #5

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At various times over past years I have been seduced by the  brazen, in-your-face attitude of New Orleans, the timeless history of Rome, the energy and bustle of Hong Kong and the regal dignity of London but nothing compares to the Monica Bellucci-like grace and beauty of Budapest. You are Cleopatra to my Marc Anthony, Cathy to my Heathcliff, Bacall to my Bogey, Fiona to my Shrek. I went away for a while but now I’m back and you have vaulted again to the top of my charts.

Speaking of charts, we had a dance night on the ship a couple of days back. The most modern song I think, was Crocodile Rock. I bought that Elton John song when I was 17. It was on a pre-recorded cassette tape. I’m now…..somewhat older. And by-the-way, for those of you under 60, the song “Crocodile Rock” is on the long-playing record, “Honky Chateau”. It was released when Elton was still pretending he was straight in about 1972. We also heard songs like “Rock Around the Clock” and “Johnny B Goode” and others that made me feel young because they are so old. I don’t think there were any Taylor Swift or Rhianna songs. I wouldn’t have known if there were.

Watching the dancers I was once again reminded that there is nothing quite as undignified as a man over 40 years of age dancing. Unless you’re Michael Jackson (and there are, or were, some question marks there) or an actual ballroom dancer who knows the steps. So when the ship has a dance night it’s great to see the ladies stand up, close their eyes and teleport back to the mini-skirted, bra burning, pill-freedom of their youth as they shimmy and shake if not quite as fluidly as in their youth. The blokes should watch them. That’s all. We watched them when they were 20, dancing round their handbags, and nothing’s changed. Well, that’s not entirely true, but let’s leave it there and put memories of the Summer of Love back where they belong – behind an opaque curtain made of Indian hemp, cheesecloth and cheap plonk.

Back to Budapest. This next bit fits more with the first paragraph but I didn’t want to spoil the neat “chart” segue into the second paragraph. Anyway, there is only one (very) high rise building in this city because the Danube River is part of the city’s world heritage status so can’t be hidden behind a Manhattan of glass. So there’s only one huge glass tower owned by the local oil company (booo I hear you say, for no good reason) a long way away from the charm of the inner city, a good chunk of which was commenced in 1896, 1000 years after the formation of Hungary. Apparently 1896 is like the Hungarian answer to the question of life, the universe and everything which is, as everyone who has seen or read The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, 42, a number with no connection whatsoever in a mathematical or philosophical way to 1896. Some of the bullet holes from the 1956 revolution are still visible as are some from WW2, again inflicted by the Russians during the siege of Budapest. Bullet holes notwithstanding, what a place.

Rambling River Run Repeat #4

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When the Romanians lifted the severe communist skirt to see what colour knickers it was wearing, they weren’t at all impressed so they shot the two most responsible for such a fashion faux pas. The Bulgars, on the other hand, built a memorial to the Victims of Communism in Vidin. Much more civilised but not nearly as effective. But they had spent 500 years trying to chuck the Ottomans out of their country, only achieving it in the early 20th century so 45 years of communism was a blip. Admittedly 500 years is a bit better than the Spaniards who took 700 years but they did get it done earlier, waving goodbye to the last Abdul in 1492. So your average Ottoman isn’t coming fo earn a few bucks then go home like your average mine worker in a mining town. He’s not staying a few years, he’s staying a few centuries.

Yugoslavia thought so little of communism that they fought a war after its demise to determine who would live where, now that there was actual choice. Sadly, while the region seems to be at peace with itself now, it took a lot of tears to get here. And participants. You can see the remains of bridges in Novi Sad that were bombed by NATO because wars of independence are conducted much more efficiently if you include more participants. Trump’s being criticised for attacking Iran without congressional approval. This was Clinton’s folly, in between trips to Epstein Island.

They have a music festival in Novi Sad each year which, according to the locals is worse than having their bridges bombed. It’s called the Exit Festival and celebrates the demise of communism. The trouble is, when 200,000 people invade a town of 350,000 people, communism doesn’t look so bad. The whole place looks like a giant homeless camp (or California – take your pick). It’s a porno version of Glastonbury if the number of discarded condoms is any indication (I am reliably informed).

So far on this trip we’ve been to Romania, Bulgaria, Serbia and Hungary with a brief immigration stop in Croatia. As far as particular sightings are concerned, the current score is Christian Orthodox churches – 478, golf courses – 0. We might as well be in Afghanistan…apart from the Christian bit. And unlike a number of western democracies I could mention, there doesn’t appear to be much of Afghanistan in this part of the world.

While we’re on the subject of Christianity, we visited the Kalocsa Cathedral in Kalocsa (funnily enough), Hungary. It’s design is Italian baroque style which was introduced by the Catholic Church in the 16th century – sort of a Sydney Sweeney to counter the Protestant Reformation’s army of Karen’s. Jesus was a simple soul we are led to believe, so you have to wonder what he’d make of all of that gold and marble extravagance that characterises baroque. He was a man so we know what he’d make of Sydney Sweeney.

Rambling River Run Repeat #3

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We just racked up another first for the Child Bride – first time in Bulgaria. Let me rephrase that – first visit to Bulgaria. I’ve been here once, I think. Let me explain. Many years ago a colleague and I came here to sign a contract. I was an observer but still partook of the warm, celebratory champagne at 9.00am followed by copious bottles of Bulgarian red wine until they poured us onto our flight that afternoon. It may have been a dream but I’m pretty sure there’s a (fax) paper trail somewhere to prove it all happened.

Our first voyage on the luxurious boat we now temporarily call home was literally across the Danube River from Giurgiu in Romania to Ruse in Bulgaria. Interestingly Ruse is called “Little Vienna”. I have no idea why. Most of the buildings we saw are what they call panel blocks – typical soviet style aparment buildings made from pre-fabricated concrete slabs with the character of gravel. I guess this is what the crappiest part of Vienna looks like. But at least the buildings in Ruse are habitable. Out in the countryside it looks like the Red Army just passed through like a cyclone through Legoland. Most of the buildings don’t look like they’ve been maintained since before they were built. Then we got to Arbanasi and an area nicknamed “Beverley Hills” where the Bulgarian big-shots including the former communist president (everyone is equal but some are more equal etc etc) have holiday homes. Talk about a contrast.

Speaking of contrasts, we’ve driven through plenty of pristine agricultural land in both Romania and Bulgaria and fingers crossed so far and let’s hope it continues,  we’ve encountered zero of those horrendous windmills. You know the ones. The ones that consume more power in their construction and operation than they will ever generate. And after they die, the poor old landowner is left to deal with the carcass that’s left. Don’t get me started. Fortunately we’re not in Germany because there they’re as common as bums, littering the landscape like empty beer cans at a football stadium. I don’t know about Bulgaria but Romania has nuclear and hydro which exempt them from implementing the incredibly moronic energy policies so loved by equally moronic Australian politicians.

Despite economic difficulties, Bulgaria must be in a golden social age right now. They’ve seen off communism and prior to that had to put up with regular and varied periods of Ottoman occupation, or as present day Ottomans like to call it, “migration”. Then as now, the Ottomans thought of ingenious ways to bludge off the local population. For example, if a Bulgarian offered food to an Ottoman, the Bulgarian would be taxed for the wear and tear inflicted on the Ottoman’s teeth. God help us if Australia’s treasurer Chalmers starts to think like an Ottoman.

Rambling River Run Repeat #2

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Before we leave Bucharest we need to acknowledge something as culturally precious to the Romanians as a ute is to an Australian tradie and a Ferrari is to an Arabian prince, a hockey puck is to a Canadian, a casino is to a Chinese granny and a spiked dog collar is to a German swinger and that’s beer. On our first night in Bucharest, the Child Bride and I found a pub a couple of staggering minutes from our hotel. The choice of beers was as extensive as a Kardashian arse with the minimum alcohol content at a heady 5% and most in the 6-6.5% range. The highest was 16%. Light beer is for communists. After four rather substantial glasses, I was ready for a lie down.

We’re now out and about, or if we were Canadian (there they are again), oot and aboot. We know Romania is famous (infamous?) for gypsies and I thought they lived in brightly coloured wooden caravans pulled by horses or hillbilly trucks. It seems that when they are not on the road they actually live in what were once considered to be houses. House pride is not something that would get them into the culture list above. You can tell a gypsy’s home because there’s a bloke who looks like Borat sitting on the remnants of a couch in the front yard surrounded by life’s debris. There’s more shit outside the house than in it. I know this because you can’t fit that much shit into the Palace of the Parliament, let alone a windowless hovel.

We knew it would be cold here in the Transylvanian Carpathian Mountains but it snowed yesterday and will likely do so again today. This was not in the fine print from what I remember and I didn’t bring my beanie and big coat. I have a Korean winter golf hat which has a fold-down flap to cover your ears, but only half of them so it I bump my head it’s likely my ear lobes will fall off.

We visited two castles in the last two days. The first, Peles Castle is more of a palace, like an ornate wooden version of the Hermitage in St Petersburg, on the inside. The outside is rather more extravagant than the box like Hermitage. It was also built relatively recently, like after the Ottomans had been vanquished although it’s doing nothing to stop the Ottoman invasion of Europe currently underway. Bran Castle or Vlad the Impaler’s castle or Dracula’s castle, depending on your preference, is more your neo-barbarian style. It has the swirling turrets and was built up rather than out to protect a pass at the border between Wallachia and Transylvania by the Teutonic Knights in the 12th century. This was long before it supposedly housed blood sucking ghouls which didn’t occur until Bram Stoker (who never visited the place) wrote his book. Vlad did make a significant contribution to the bloodthirstyness of the areas reputation by inserting sharp logs into people he didn’t like or even didn’t know, such was his apparent indifference. And it was actually built to collect taxes, not the blood of wild eyed, bare necked totty.

We spent two nights in Brasov (preferred pronunciation – “bras off”) after Bucharest and it was from here that we visited said castles. If you ignore the communist influence and focus on the pre – Stalin/Ceausescu architecture it’s a very attractive city, if rather cold. But the CB and I did find a a place in the middle of the town square, serving beers, wine and pizzas with a generous helping of gas heater which made a significant contribution to my “would I like to live here” survey which is conducted everywhere I go, if only subconsciously. The answer was…..

Rambling River Run Repeat #1

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Before we move on from Turkish Airlines, a couple of things. We boarded in Bangkok at 10.30am (that’s “am”). By just after midday, the cabin was darkened ostensibly so people who’d had a tough morning sitting around the airport could get some well earned shut-eye. WTAF!!! In reality it’s so the flight attendants can drink coffee and gossip. I have been known to buck the system (other airlines do this) and raise my window shades. If it’s 2.00 in the afternoon, I want some natural light. But these new fangled flying machines have windows that can be darkened electronically by an unseen, unknown controller. Big Brother has invaded the skies. And then to extend the scam on guests who have been duped into thinking they are waking up after a questionable night’s sleep, they served breakfast at about 5.00pm Istanbul time. To steal a quote from Philip Roth; “You can’t bullshit me Portnoy”. Can’t end on a negative note however. The Child Bride and I were in biz class and apart from the wrinkles mentioned above, Turkish Airlines was great.

Strictly speaking, we haven’t started the River Run yet and won’t for another 4 days after we’ve had a look round Romania. Like most of the countries that spent 45 years behind the iron curtain, they’ve been re-learning wicked capitalist ways for a few decades now. Unlike most of their erstwhile comrades, the Romanians said goodbye to communism with a rather spectacular flourish by putting the dictator and his equally disgusting wife up against a wall, on Christmas Day (1989) no less. You’d think therefore, that anything remotely like our Greens Party would have been long confined to the gulag of history. But I’m here to tell you it survives in the baggage handling system at the airport. The bags come out at a speed suggesting a baggage handler walking them over one at a time from the plane to the conveyor belt. Or maybe it’s just a reflection of the time it takes to rummage through the bags which are inadvertently unlocked.

Yesterday was spent wandering around the old town of Bucharest as well as seeing some of the sights. While I wouldn’t normally consider architecture as “the sights” it’s interesting to see the contrasting styles. There’s the elegant European style of the 1800’s and early 1900’s in various stages of repair – some restored to former glories and some demonstrating Gaza chic – there’s the communist sludge that the Russians left all over Eastern Europe like so many of my childhood lego buildings and there’s the Grimms Fairytales brutalist style like the Addams Family and their relatives moved into the neighbourhood. I wonder if that last one contributed to the foreboding reputation, especially when we’re talking about Transylvania. Oh, and a few more recent glass boxes.

You can’t come to Bucharest without visiting the Parliament of the People or the Palace of the Parliament or something. Whatever it’s called, you can’t miss it as it’s the now third biggest administrative building in the world behind the Pentagon and the Thai Parliament. It should be called Ceausescu’s folly because for a number of years it hoovered up a third of Romania’s GDP on it’s construction. He deserved to be shot just for this.

Anyway that’s not the point I am trying, so far unsuccessfully to get to. The longest corridor in the whole building is 200 metres in a straight line and while we were looking down it, a very attractive young lady in high heels attempted to walk along its length. Another lady in our group and the CB made comments about being young once and not missing doing that and other girlie things which caused me to immediately stop listening. But the sight stuck with me and I later suggested that this country is endowed with an abundance of extremely attractive women. Whilst this comment was purely observational, I don’t think my extremely hot wife let me get away with it.

The Subcontinental Shift SL #10

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While walking from the car park to Lion Rock, an ambulance drove slowly past. That’s ominous we both thought as the child bride’s and my psyches blended together resigned to a path of mutual destruction on the mountain casting its overwhelming shadow over us. Not to get too melodramatic, ambulance or no ambulance, we are going all the way even if it kills us. Okay, not to dramatise things too much, we’ll keep going until the discretion that supposedly comes with maturity gets the better part of valour.

It’s 187 metres high and sticks straight up out of the ground and it’s apparently a 1200-1300 steps climb, depending on where you start counting. I prefer to rationalise it along the lines of 3 metres per floor which means it’s the equivalent of a 62 story building. Would I contemplate climbing the fire stairs of a 62 story building? Only if I was retarded. Apparently you can say “retarded” and “gay” now that Trump’s  been re-elected. I was offered considerable encouragement by the rather diminutive lady at my side. It was a magnificent physical effort on her part considering she has such a soft arse relative to my buns of steel.

There are historical and religious places all over this rock including some incredibly detailed and saucy wall paintings in a cave half way up a smooth vertical escarpment. How the painters (and punters) got up there in the first place in many years BC, I’ll never know. But they gave the rest of us plenty of incentive to get there to see what perky used to look like pre-implants. In Australia we have an increasing number of rocks and mountains that are off-limits because of some religious significance or whatever even though they pre-date people by millions of years and as Australia’s early indigenous people didn’t have any written languages there’s only word of mouth stories to indicate a relationship between these places and some mythical thing. The Buddhists and Hindus are much more sharing of their religious heritage.

Here, people get to experience the history and mysticism by being in amongst it although on finally getting to the top of Lion Rock, those things were furthest from my mind. I didn’t have the energy to suck a barley sugar and thank God for blood thinners. If I was going to have another stroke (or TIA or transient ischemic attack as happened the first time), this would have been the time. We both felt pretty proud of ourselves to have made it until we saw some of the others who also made it, some wearing thongs. That feeling of deflation rapidly passed when we remembered how old we are. And it extended to that feeling of smugness as you go down past the sweating, weazing climbers going the other way. Going down is much easier than going up, right? Speaking of sweat, when considering the rather sparse hand railings, mine is now mixeed with the DNA of about a million other people. So even if I was permitted to climb a very old rock monument in the centre of Australia, I’d give it a swerve because that itch has been well and truly scratched.

A Political Rant

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A while ago I was thinking about the state of play her in Queensland and in western democracies generally and came to what I thought was a very profound conclusion. Actually, and I digress, “very profound” isn’t correct grammar is it, whether I thought it or not. Like “very brilliant” or “very devastating”. The word “profound” is non-gradable so doesn’t need an adverb of degree. This lesson is the first of today’s contributions to the preservation of Western Civilisation. The second one follows so I’ll start again.

A while ago I was thinking about the state of play her in Queensland and in western democracies generally and came to what I thought was a profound conclusion. There are many problems in the world ranging from the specific, like the war in Ukraine and the covid virus which Joe Biden has just declared has lost its pandemic status much to the chagrin of his medical bureaucracy and many authoritarian politicians, to the more nebulous like stupidity and “racism”. The inverted commas round “racism” are there because generally, it isn’t. It’s mostly just a cover-all insult these days.

But the biggest problem facing mankind (I know, I know, and I don’t care) in my humble opinion is people who don’t pay attention. The inexorable creeping sludge of the many tides of leftism (remember the long march through the institutions?) is allowed to proceed because most don’t notice it until it slaps them in the face – looking at you Venezuela. Remember, you voted for Chavez and now the only way to get rid of him is if he died. Oh that’s right, he did and look what replaced him. Your most recent election was the last one before the next blood-bath. It was probably pretty crappy before Chavez but you weren’t paying enough attention when he offered something that was too good to be true, were you? Now a large proportion of you are on your way to the US. On foot.

Let me clarify. There are well-meaning people who vote Green because they think the Greens are for a cleaner environment. I guess in amongst the wealth-redistributing Marxists there may still be one or two who are, but it’s doubtful. So Greens voters (who aren’t Marxists) are just useful idiots. The vast majority of blacks still vote Democrat in the US. This is despite the fact that the inner city areas of most Democrat jurisdictions (like Chicago, Baltimore, Philadelphia….the list goes on) where a lot of black people live are, as described by POTUS 45, crime-ridden “shitholes”. And they’re getting worse not better but the residents continue to vote for Democrats for some reason lost in the mists of time. If you don’t realise you are being taken for granted, you are a useful idiot (and you’re not paying attention!).

I just re-read the rest of this diatribe and decided it’s too big a topic for a couple of pages on a blog. More like a book or series of books. So if you don’t want to read on, remember, if someone is seeking and wanting to hold absolute power, as far as they are concerned, the ends justify the means. That’s all you need to know.

Let’s go back the riots in the US in 2020. There are city’s (including those mentioned above) across that country that haven’t had conservative local government for decades. You know the ones. They’re defined by defunding the police, cashless bail, not prosecuting shoplifting if the swag is less than $1000 (has anyone seen a looter waiting at a cash-register?), emptying the jails, providing sanctuary from the feds for criminal illegals, skyrocketing homelessness, crime and drug problems etc etc. Now consider the poor bastards whose businesses and livelihoods were and are still being destroyed by the absolutely predictable mayhem caused by these policies. Many of them would have voted for the scum-bags who allowed these things to happen and are doing nothing to stop them happening now. If these victims of the BLM and Antifa riots and the ongoing lawlessness vote these same people back into power at the next election then (1) they are not paying attention and (2) all sympathy evaporates.

The key words in this rant so far are “inexorable creeping”. I mentioned the long march through the institutions which is eating education, the arts, legal systems and bureaucracies from the inside and is even worming its way into sport like bamboo up your fingernails. There are examples across the world illustrating the various stages in the authoritarian progression (or inexorable creep, if you like) from benign (ha!) smiling (smirking, more like) old socialists like the newly minted Australian Prime Minister, Anthony Albanese all the way through to deranged tyrants like Kim Jong Un. Bear with me here.

If you leave these people alone (because you’re not paying attention) eventually the metastasizing is complete. So we have the currently relatively benign governments like the aforementioned Australian Government (although they are already making very disturbing noises). When we take a further step to the left we find leftist governments in Australia like that in Victoria which has implemented elements of the police state and Queensland where stupidity still trumps evil but give them time (and we will because too many people aren’t paying attention). Further along this highway to hell are New Zealand and Canada. If you don’t know what Ardern and Trudeau are getting up to (not with each other, that I’m aware of), then yes, you are not …. you know the rest.

The next stop is various state governments in the US like California, New York, Illinois, Washington, Minnesota and Oregon where BLM and Antifa do as they please with apparent impunity as outlined above. The US Government is proving to be particularly evil as it harasses its political opponents and cows its population with its covid mandates and declarations around domestic terrorism, white supremacy and MAGA voters as well as its joint venture with the media and big-tech. And whilst the US and Iran are ostensibly poles apart, I bet the people who run the Biden administration (not Biden himself, obviously) look lovingly towards Tehran and their complete control over all institutions including deciding who gets to run in their “elections”.

Talking of theocracies like Iran (and Saudi Arabia) some would consider them rightists rather than leftists because they are supposedly religious conservatives or whatever. These are arguments for political scholars. It’s a debatable point but remember the left is about one thing alone – getting power and holding it by whatever means available because the ends justify the means. So the Ayatollahs, the Saudi Royal Family, the US Democrat Party and its subsidiary the Biden administration and socialist political parties everywhere have that in common.

Then we have countries like the old Soviet republics including Ukraine. Yes, Zelenskyy has replaced Paddington Bear (now that he’s left the building with Queen Elizabeth) as everyone’s favourite cuddly toy but he ran a regime (before the war) with all of the trappings of a leftist dictatorship – restricted press freedoms, corruption, jailing of political opponents and banning of opposition political parties. And there are others like Uzbekistan and Belarus.

And Africa’s another book entirely. The word “Zimbabwe” should cover it for now.

Moving on we have the big five – Russia, Cuba, Venezuela, China and North Korea. Whether or not the people in these countries are paying attention is irrelevant because without massive upheaval, they are already lost. The rest of us, however need to observe these places and take notes.

I used to believe the left and the right were heading towards the same destination, it was just the road being taken which was up for debate. How naive. I don’t believe that anymore.

So there are examples everywhere of what can happen if you vote for socialists but more significantly, leave them in power too long. Inevitably it will all go to shit and uncontrollable debt will be the least of your problems.

And if you don’t believe that the “civilized” left believes the ends justify the means, check out this Sam Harris interview.

https://twitter.com/alexandrosM/status/1560061984699064320