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!