A lovely white crow…


Here’s a term it would be good to get used to: cognitive dissonance. Lots of it soon to be around in England and Wales, and a damned sight more in the US.

It goes like this:

You have a belief in something. It’s that a big man in the sky is watching you, or that you are a gifted singer on a TV talent show, or that Nigel Farage cares about you, or that multi-millionaire fascist and Putin aficionado Donald Trump will re-open your factory. You are a rational and smart guy. You make good judgements. You know what’s what, what side your bread’s buttered on, what day of the week it is. You’re no kind of a horses’ ass. That’s other people, the dupes, schmucks and klutzes. Yet there are all these… facts. Damned data. Evidence. In fact, every thing you can see and hear points out that you made shit judgements. Things keep cropping up and not always on the bad tv channels.

What’s to do? If this stuff’s real then you are not as smart as you thought you were. If that stuff’s real then you are the dupe, the schmuck, the klutz… jeees… even thinking that for a moment makes you anxious, unhappy, scared. Your self-esteem is under the dog somewhere. Gotta get that boy back again!

You’ve staked so much on this, and here we go… maybe it’s not so… No! No. Too much. Tooooooooo much. Let’s get away from that thought, like, quick.

What to do? What the hell to do? Any way out? YES! Denial. Let’s reframe this so-called evidence. Filter it. Spin it. Let’s just ignore it. It’s not there at all. Some liar told us it was. It’s not. Let’s construct convoluted explanations about why these ‘facts’, as some choose to call them, don’t mean a thing. What evidence? I see no evidence.

Or you could grow up and accept that you can have your own opinions but not your own facts. You could accept that the moon landings weren’t faked, that Elvis isn’t alive and well and driving a truck in Memphis, and that Farage and Trump are self-serving fascist, racist, lying charlatans and you have bought their package of lies when the truth of what they were was staring you in the face.

Or… or… Oh… I don’t know. Tony Blair is still saying he was right about those weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. Cognitive dissonance bastard.

Aggggh…. jeeeus


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.