21-22/03/13
People afraid to stand-up for themselves, to be
true to themselves, to have real self-respect, because they fear the attitudes
and opinions of others, males especially fearing females in this regard, since,
when it comes down to it, males are the ones who need to stand-up for
themselves in this world and avoid, as far as possible, the pitfalls of social
conformity such that, in their most overt manifestations, culminate in mass
slaughter.
Average British males, as subjects of the
reigning monarch (especially when that monarch happens not untypically to be
female), find it difficult if not impossible to really stand-up for themselves
and defy social opinion. This explains, in part, their cynicism and resentful
bearing, their attitude of 'what's the use?' which conduces towards pessimism
and defeatism, to an identification, paradoxically, with the underdog, even
though Britain was once master of a third of the globe and would still consider
itself 'great', not without justification in view of its vast stockpiles of
nuclear weapons and cutting-edge military technologies.
All of the above lines were written in the face
of external pressure from noisy workmen in the house next-door, with whom I am,
in a manner of speaking, at war, since I refuse to bow to their brutality and
abandon my work. Rather, do I counter their vulgar noises with the aid of
recorded music, hard rock and heavy metal not least. That, at any rate,
precludes things from becoming too one-sided.
If you run away, they win! Therefore you are
left with no option but to stand and fight your ground.
How anyone with the slightest degree of culture
or civility or self-respect can stand-up for the worker, the manual labourer,
that epitome of philistinism, brutality, and self-denial, is something I'll
never be able to understand, since it would defy logic and reason.
Self-culture is not only the highest duty; it
is the mark of a civilized human being – in short, of a gentleman.
Hitler was dead right about any society built
around the manual labourer, the industrial worker, the urban proletariat, etc.,
being one that stood lowest in the scales of civilization. In fact, one has a
right to query whether a socialist or a communist society is actually civilized
at all! Is it not rather the product of somatic degeneration?
Those people, the workers, don't get better.
They are what they are, from doing what they do, and no amount of ideological
rhetoric or misguided altruism or exaggerated humanitarianism can do a jot to
change that fact. Pumping classical music at the worker, as the Soviets did,
only debases the music or calls for a specifically debased form – social
realist – of so-called classical music, since the worker is, in most respects,
the antithesis of such music, being closer, in his use of the hammer, to the
persistent drum beats of rock 'n' roll. Not being able or inclined to
completely ban classical music, the Soviets were forced to accommodate it, or a
socialistically-adapted philistine modification of it, to society in general,
thereby making it available, as an egalitarian gesture, to the masses. Whether
the latter paid any attention to it is, of course, another matter!
As a free-born Irish citizen, the prospect of
working for the British has always struck a painfully negative chord in me,
jarring the rhythm of my soul.
I think, when push comes to shove, that I would
rather be an Irish fly in the British ointment than return to Ireland, the land
of my birth and earliest years on this earth, only to discover, sooner or
later, that the ointment to which I aspired had too many British and other
flies in it for my taste.
