I’m fishing for trout. During the season, most days, I hope you’ll never find me fishing for trout. It’s a solitary occupation fishing for trout. I’ve sunk every penny I’ve got into buying this lake and I’m fucked if I’m going to share it. Twelve acres of lake, nine of trees and a half an acre which produces a few herbs, vegetables and fruit. An old boat house, wet downstairs and damp and rotting on the up. People’s republic and I’m the only person in the republic so you can fuck right off.
Fuck right off.
Fuck right off.
I’m communing with the little fishies. We have an understanding. I cast out a dry fly (the only gentlemanly method) and they ignore it. Word gets around. Rumours spread. The brown trout must talk to the rainbows because word truly does get about. I think the brownies tell the rainbows for a bit of a laugh. The rainbows are escapees from the trout farm up the road. They’re not like the brownies who have been in this lake since time began. Generation after generation, through time immemorial, adapting to the conditions, collectively memorising every little nuance, nook, cranny, shade and shadow of the lake. My dry fly amuses them. Occasionally one, when feeling particularly manically depressed, will treat me as a handy brownie version of Dignitas. That’s rare though. It’ll be with a strange mixture of sadness and elation that I gut, clean and eat them. So rare that I’m thinking of creating a small shrine to Artemis of the wild lands, mistress of the animals, tucked on a little concealed corner of the little lake shore. To thank her for her generosity every time a truly wild brownie takes a fly. If I make the right offering, maybe she’ll quietly sing Suicide is Painless in a passing brown trout’s ear. It’s a nurture not a nature thing with the rainbows. They don’t have the collective memory. They’re big. They’re brash. They’ve been been brought up on pelleted fish food. The brownies sense the disturbance of my fly, they turn, they take a look and (unless feeling suicidal) they contemptuously pass it by. They shout.
Mr big brash rainbow!
Food has fallen from the sky…
Nurture not nature takes her hold. Almost invariably, it’s a rainbow that takes the fly. The brownies make their offering. To Artemis. I, like all good republicans, who have read the sacred books on how to fish with a dry fly, mutter the words “God Save The Queen” and strike the fly.
Just did the http://defendfreespeech.org.uk/ extremism test. I’ve proudly scored 80%. To get 100 I’d have to break the law. Funny thing is though, that isn’t seen as compliance enough. Cameron is quoted as saying “For too long, we have been a passively tolerant society, saying to our citizens: as long as you obey the law, we will leave you alone. It’s often meant we have stood neutral between different values. And that’s helped foster a narrative of extremism and grievance. This Government will conclusively turn the page on this failed approach”.
Oh dear. The opposite of “passive tolerance” looks like active intolerance to me. If that is the rationale and reasoning behind Extremism Disruption Orders then
They better slap one on me
Before I leave my chair
And take a pee.
There is a line. The lack of clarity around an EDO means I don’t know if a line has been crossed. I’m guessing it’s safer to assume so than not.
It’s blackmail plain and simple. We have your information and if you misbehave we will use it against you. You won’t know if we’re looking at you, tracking you or how we’re interpreting the data. We’ve got the drop on you, every one of you, we think you stink, we think you pen and ink..
Fair enough, Theresa May, I’m up for that. If you look at me then I can look at you. Show me every email you’ve ever sent. Show me what websites you and your staff visit and their complete browsing history. Odds on I can use that information to construct a little story that’ll make you look bad in court. Give me the drop on you, every one of you, because I know you stink, I know you pen and ink. Equality of procedure under the law. The worst I’ve ever done is read a little Bakunin. Can you say the same?
I’ll show you mine if you show me yours..
Read Silkie Carlo of Liberty on Huffington writing about the Investigatory Powers Bill Silkie Carlo
I’m getting a little bit anxious. I have seen the future and it might just be bleak. I used to think technology would free us all. A few years back, you would look at developments in China or the Arab spring and you would begin to think that social media, the internet and technology would turn even the most entrenched despotic regimes into liberal, secular western style democracies. The opposite seems to be true. Western style, liberal, secular democracies are becoming more despotic.
The UK government wants access to your browsing history. It wants to know if you are an existing or potential threat.
Money is increasingly becoming digitised. Convenient but removing your ability to vote with your feet. No way to remove your cash (it won’t exist) from your more than slightly untrustworthy bank. The government controls and dictates the money supply and interest rates.
Technology and robotics are advancing at an exponential rate. Jobs for life long gone. Lucky to have job security for more than a week. No more working classes. No more bargaining power at the palace gates.
At the risk of sounding like a closet Marxist (I’m not), I don’t own the means of production, you don’t own the means of production, the means of production are owned by a remote corporation, a government or a bank. They won’t need to pay you wages (robotics). They really won’t need to share. Beginning to think that basic income might be the only way out. See Scott StatensFreakanomics and Guardian for more information..