All that Brexit nastiness finally broke my spirit
Liz Truss was among the worst of the Tory leadership candidates. She will certainly be the worst prime minister possible for Britain and, of course, for Ireland. But she is “sane” on Brexit, and for Tory members, that’s all that matters.
h it was sad, though, the way we Irish lit up for a few moments when we learned that Penny Mordaunt had Wexford connections. Having lived so long alongside Tory leaders who apparently had never heard of us, we had this glimmer of hope that Mordaunt might bring some vague knowledge of poor Paddy to the neighborhood.
Alas, that was not to be the case, and anyway, if we had known anything else about Mordaunt, we would not even have cared about this brief illusion.
So it will probably be Truss, and it will definitely be bad. She is the choice of Daily Mail, of course, which would have dug deep into all the contestants’ records, obsessively searching for anything that might suggest a leaning towards the greater good. Finding none with Truss, the Mail decreed her the ideal successor to their beloved but embattled Boris.
The Daily Mail the editor, Paul Dacre, knows these conservative lifestyles intimately. He was replaced in 2018 by a better editor, Geordie Greig, who extracted some of the pus from that ailing organ, who even took issue with Boris for his spectacular foolishness. Geordie was too good to last; they brought Dacre back to repaint him black.
He has now anointed Truss as a sort of Boris Johnson continuity, a creature who keeps that critical distance from reality that is mandatory for a Brexiteer.
She started as Johnson as a sort of Remainer, proving that she knew on an abstract level the right thing to do. And then, for reasons of personal ambition, she went out there and did the wrong thing, with every fiber of her being.
This is what earns you the highest respect of a Dacre. I mention it here, not just because he and Rupert Murdoch have effectively ruled the UK for a generation, but because he played perhaps the most essential shot of Johnson’s time in Number 10; one that tells us a lot about where all this conservative delinquency is going.
It was Johnson’s fervent wish that Dacre be appointed head of Ofcom, Britain’s media regulator. What a laugh that would have been, for them. Dacre running Ofcom would be like one of those Trump moves where he put someone in charge of education whose whole shameful life had been spent on a crusade to end all education in the United States.
The fact that he failed, somehow, is beside the point. It was enough that Johnson even thought about it, like he thought about destroying Channel 4, just out of spite.
Some might compare Dacre at Ofcom to the “fox guarding the chicken coop”, but it’s probably the other way around – he was so beautifully cynical that he raised the bar for that kind of analogy. From now on, if you see a fox guarding the chicken coop, it will be “like Paul Dacre who runs Ofcom”.
This is how they roll in conservative Britain, this is how we end up with Liz Truss about to give poor Paddy another season in hell with the insane inscrutability of her Brexit.
LBC presenter James O’Brien would be on our side here, if only to show some empathy. O’Brien, more than any other broadcaster in these islands, has reached appropriate levels of rage in response to the relentless nihilism of Brexit fundamentalists.
He tried a glorious monologue attacking Dacre, based on his perception that Dacre doesn’t seem to be proud of anything good in Britain.
In this Dacre embodies the conservative subculture that consumes the time and energy of the British people, and many other peoples, with its own quirks and illusions.
Think of everything, off the top of your head, that the world might find attractive about Britain – the BBC, the NHS, the notorious tolerance, racial diversity, even Glastonbury – and they either instinctively hate it or work diligently for it. kill this.
The Good Friday Agreement: A British government helped do this, now a British government obviously didn’t give a damn.
For them, Brexit is this endless festival of hate in which reality and, of course, the truth must never interfere. James O’Brien is right to rage; the only problem is that he can seem so lonely.
Some say “cruelty is the point” of wickedness, but perhaps wickedness itself is the point.
Yes, it’s about deeply damaged individuals like Johnson or Truss who see Brexit as their main chance, but it’s also about their controllers, like Dacre and Murdoch, who cause good people to lose hope in the face of all this relentless wickedness. It’s about exhausting the mind.
It works for them.
Hasta la vista, baby: unfortunately, Boris could be back
None of this would matter if Johnson had fallen for his war on Europe, rather than a sex and drunkenness scandal that, oddly enough, was mostly caused by someone else.
But the way it all turned out, the One True Faith was spared, and Johnson himself won’t exactly fade into obscurity doing charity work in the East End to atone for the damage he has caused.
“Hasta la vista, baby,” he concluded in the Commons last week, which may mean “until next time.” He seems to think there might be a next time.
Likewise, Trump wouldn’t matter if he wasn’t there yet or thereabouts, still the leader of his own metastasized cult.
The January 6 hearings wrapped up last week, so far. They will be back in September, due to new evidence that keeps coming in proving it was a Byzantine-scale coup attempt. Their spiritual leaders may be having a hard time, but Brexit and Trumpism still have many miles to go.
Two words: Truss and Trump.
It is my grim duty to inform you that at the time of going to press, these are the respective favorites to lead their countries after the 2024 elections.
Hasta la vista, indeed.
Incessant desire for more money, it’s not a smart decision
Now that Elon Musk is finally not buying Twitter, I would like to dedicate a substantial part of the rest of my life to an essential project: to banish from the public mind the idea that great wealth and great intelligence are somehow sort related .
Throughout his ridiculous efforts to buy the platform, Musk tweeted, though originally he argued that Twitter was dying because people like him with millions of followers weren’t tweeting. not a lot. Which revealed a deep misunderstanding about the very thing he was supposed to spend $44 billion on.
But that’s business, the real story here is the absolute eejitry that seems to flow so freely through the contributions he makes. And that’s before he started tweeting about Mars and his desire to go there.
In this area, Musk is not exceptional, but like most very wealthy people, he takes advantage of the fact that many of us are intimidated by immense wealth.
Which makes us unable to separate in our minds the ability to earn money from other more important talents, like the ability not to make you a ruthless eejit every time you post on Twitter.
Although my research is unfunded and at an early stage, I would argue that making tons of money is more of a kind of compulsion, maybe even a personality disorder, than a sign of high intelligence.
Of course, eejitry among millionaires and billionaires is as rampant as money itself. Yet it is a neglected topic in our culture. I won’t get any rest until it’s on the curriculum.