CYCLE THIRTY-FOUR

 

1.   Superficially you might think the British intelligent, when, in reality, they can be barbarously stupid, stupid, I mean, in relation to the Irish and anything to do with God.  Such intelligence as they have doesn't extend beyond economics, as implicit in the previous entry.  For when you are rooted in the Devil, as they are, then man is as far as things go, albeit not to a genuine or straight man but to a bent one, for whom money, and thus economics, is the supreme reward.  Such a man, effectively feminized, is subject to the twin pressures of politics and science.  His life revolves around money, but he is beholden to the twin objectivities of politics and science ... as to woman and the Devil.  Scant chance of his taking religion seriously!  Anyone who writes on God, or truth, will not find much support from him, least of all when Irish and of apparent, if not proven, Gaelic and/or Catholic descent, the combination of the two being the ne plus ultra of ethnic unacceptability from his English-conditioned WASPish point of view.  His much-vaunted intelligence will recoil from the threat to his British and economic integrity which the ardent truth-writer poses.  At least it will if such a man is a publisher's reader and in a position to reject a 'man of God'.  For the chances of a 'man of God' - and I don't mean a priest - being published in Britain can only be pretty slim in any case, even supposing, for the sake of argument, that such a man had any pressing desire to be published in the first place, or had any confidence that his work would get beyond the ever-growing army of female publishers readers, with their well-nigh tyrannical passion for what has been called political correctness!  No, the British are not open to the truth, neither with regard to religion nor, hardly surprisingly in view of their reluctance to break with the Devil, about themselves.  They are open to Hell all right, but Heaven remains something airily beyond their pale and something, seemingly, that no self-deceiving Briton would ever want, even if he were in a position to want it.

 

2.   The average Briton is quite polite to one's face, the face, in this case, of an Irish citizen, but impolite to the point of calumny behind one's back.  What one usually gets to one's face is an Englishman (or a Welshman, a Scotsman), but this Englishman quickly mutates into a Briton behind one's back, as though by some Jekyll and Hyde transformation.  In other words, he is civil to one's face but a barbarian as soon as one's back is turned and he can snidely denigrate you to his heart's perverse content, stabbing you in the back with the recoil of ethnic intransigence from the front of civility.

 

3.   Slagging you off is a British pastime, almost a speciality, and it says a lot about the nature of being British as opposed, in other contexts, to being English or Scottish or Welsh.  It is not that the English, say, are especially two-faced, though some of them might be in view of their ambivalent gender as gentlemen under a double-edged negative assault from woman/the Devil.  Rather, it tends to be the case that they have an English face on the one hand and a British face on the other, so that hypocrisy results from the alternation between each of these faces, as and when circumstances allow.  Rarely have I encountered a Briton who is the same man behind your back that he was to your face.  In fact, I have hardly ever encountered a Briton who has any real control of his mind anyway.  Most seem to be the playthings of banal thoughts that have them in their systemically-conditioned grip and which are recycled, or recycle themselves, with disarming regularity on a predictably superficial basis.  One would think that the first notion would suffice, but no!  They have to keep reminding themselves every time they see you, which could be every day of the week, of what they had thought, or been obliged to think, the day before!  What morons!  You would think they were animals, to have to keep reminding themselves over and over about the same notions with regard to the same old people.  Doubtless their lack of religion has more than a little to do with such a lamentable state-of-affairs, since, as victims of politics and science, they tend to reflect the critical disposition of women at a variety of levels, diabolic no less than feminine, and such a disposition, vacuously-conditioned to first perceive and then irrationally exaggerate the mote in the other's eye rather than the beam in its own, generally has more to do with sensuality than with sensibility!