I had not thought that I should write tonight, nor possibly ever again.
The bronchitis turned to pneumonia; Italian Doctors, a tent on an Italian campsite and pneumonia are not the best of companions, and I was in no mood to entertain the faceless thousands who fortunately think this blog is worth reading. Arriving home tonight after 2000 anti-biotic soaked kilometres I wanted only a decent cup of tea, my own bed, and the Channel 4 news to catch up on events in the UK whilst I had been away.
Roused from my self pity by an event so obscene that I am driven to write.
I refer, of course, to the Michael Jackson spectacular/obsecquiem that replaced the 7pm news.
What kind of a world did we children of the post war baby boom create that the pre-watershed entertainment consists of the coffin of a decayed and depraved man, surrounded by flowers to mask the stench, both moral, and physical, being lauded by the great and the notably black, in an outpouring of manufactured and stage managed grief?
A United States Congresswoman, Sheila Jackson Lee, reminding us that ‘we know the law’ – innocent until proven guilty, a tacit nod to the rumours that surrounded Jackson in his later years, following two attempts to get him into court for alleged paedophile activities – whilst notably omitting to add his own admission that he had invited children to his spooky children’s utopia and repeatedly slept in the same bed with them.
How can any parent now protect a child from inappropriate invitations, when a US Congresswoman announces that the man responsible is to be put before the senate for an award for ‘Humanitarian’ activities? Is all inappropriate behaviour from the celebrated, the professional, the obscenely wealthy, now to be protected by politicians?
The McCann’s leave three young babies to their fate unattended in a strange hotel room and are rewarded with an audience with the Pope. The Prime Minister takes his leave of world affairs to ’support them’.
A 43 year old man, previously untroubled by any medical diagnosis, is suddenly diagnosed (via the television, how else?) with Asperger’s Syndrome, and the Prime Minister’s wife is sitting ‘weeping’ with his Mother (and another minor stage celebrity, naturally) at the thought of him standing trial for the crimes he has admitted committing, in a country we wholeheartedly support.
An admittedly once hugely talented young man grows into a fifty year old mentally unbalanced plastic surgeon’s training ground, and parents send him their juvenile sons to sleep in his bed. The black brothers, with their sunglasses, and obligatory white glove, line the stage to blow kisses at his coffin, the voices cracking with just the right amount of emotion, the tears flowing on cue, as the watching children of the television audience are told that this man is a ‘King’, that his ability to hit a high ‘C’, or place one foot in front of the other in time with the music, or perhaps just the effect that had on all their bank balances, transcends any moral code that ‘hero’s’ once aspired to.
As a finale, his weeping ‘daughter’ for want of a better word to describe that poor child of uncertain parentage and origin, who bears his name on her birth certificate, and which the sharp eyed will have noticed was standing forlornly alone on the stage, ignored by the mawkishly self congratulatory mass ‘weep-in’ taking place amongst the ‘Mo-town’ brothers, not even befriended by the cloyingly voiced 12 year old Welsh son of the valleys (nice product placement Simon Cowell) who had been wheeled on to squeeze a few more drops of emotion out of the cheering audience, was pushed to the front to parade her tears for the entertainment of the crowd, and a microphone placed to her lips……’speak up, speak up’ the seasoned performers exhorted her, on this her first public performance……’he was my father’, she sobbed.
And the audience cheered once more. Near sated now, lionised, celebrated, honoured by all the black icons, they rose to their feet to sing and dance along with ‘make the world a better place’ as the coffin was finally led away to well deserved obscurity.
‘Make the world a better place’ indeed.
We, the baby boomers, started with a world that was undoubtedly unfair to the poor, to the black, the mentally ‘different’, to those who for whatever reason, were unable to attain love and happiness within a traditional family unit. They didn’t deserve to be persecuted, criminalised, punished for their ‘difference’. They deserved our sympathy, our understanding, our acceptance, our charity even.
We have succeeded only in elevating them to the ranks of the untouchables. Except for the poor.
Be gay, be black, be a paedophile, pay parents to send their children to your bed, be a child neglecter, kill pedestrians on the motorway, steal thousands from the tax payer, but above all be wealthy, be a friend of the politicians, and all your sins shall be washed away in a torrent of fake emotion…….
When did we forget how to say ‘No’, ‘it’s wrong’; when did society forget where its moral backbone was?
I don’t care how many courts have cleared you of paedophile charges, Michael Jackson, it is still wrong to sleep with other people’s young children. I don’t care how many Attorney Generals have decided that they don’t have enough evidence to charge you with anything, Kate and Gerry McCann, it is still wrong to leave your children unattended while you go out for a night boozing.
And it is just as wrong to worship at the feet of those who do these things, to throw money at them, and claim that they ‘have suffered enough’.
Lionising the morally incompetent is just as evil as discrimination.