I didn’t plan to, but I seem to be dropping away from all social media. It’s partly because I published a great novel, Terminal City (crime, corruption and love, set in Vancouver in 1959… an amazing, astounding, wonderful [see Roget for more of the same] book…) a couple of months ago, and promoted the hell out of it online, and still sold hardly any copies. Yes, I’m huffing. The other reason is politics.
I complained and whinged and tried to be both pertinent and funny in the lead-up to Brexit, seething at those dumb-asses who couldn’t see they were being lied to and fooled by self-serving bigots. After Brexit I was seething and complaining and whinging and trying to be both pertinent and funny when the self-serving bigots said they had been lying and the dumb-asses still didn’t seem to care.
And then the US elections and Trump came along. A populace lied to and fooled by the biggest self-serving bigot of all. At first I listed his iniquities. The blatant lies. His idiocies. Long lists. Add more to this. You know what they are.
Then he got elected. Filled his cabinet with billionaires from Wall Street. Appointed bigots… basta, as I like to write when its pointless to go on. Nothing mattered. Nothing matters. The world is going to hell in a hand cart, pushed along by gibbering fools. The world is a den of thieves and night is falling. Evil breaks its chains and runs through the world like a mad dog. We are fucked.
I have been spending my time more and more in communication with those who already see the world as I do, which is pointless, or getting purple in the face over the frustrations of the dumb-asses who don’t, which is pointless. And putting on cute pictures of my (very) cute dog, or writing things about television or journeys or the weather or… anything… seems pointless. EVERYTHING IS POINTLESS. Everything. For now.