Hiya guys. I’ve not died.
Nor have I beaten my partner to death in a lockdown fury and been sent down for life.
I’ve been busy dadding (verb), working, and when time allows for it, writing – not this gash that you’re reading right now, no, I’ve been writing fiction. I can bash out a blog in ten minutes, but real writing is hard and I can’t do that during my daughter’s nap. It requires focus, attention, and no alcohol.
The world is fucked, man. How’s everyone getting on? I ask because I care. Just answer my question with a mutter of ‘good’ or ‘shit’, and if you found yourself muttering the latter, then give me a call, brother, sister. I want to help.
I know it’s not been easy for a lot of folks, and aside from living alongside a virus that won’t fuck off (or at least a deluded idea of a virus that won’t fuck off), the world just doesn’t seem to be getting any kinder . . .
So many people came up to me after the initial BLM movement, and asked, ‘Chris? Why haven’t you written anything about this?’
I said I was too busy. But really, I was too scared. Because, like everything else, it’s become political: with lefties taking the knee, and righties remaining stood, their white hoods clutched tightly in their fists behind their backs. JOKES. Of course.
I’ll say a few things now, I suppose . . . The BLM movement is a powerful stance that the majority of people (people who aren’t black) are drastically under-qualified to wade in on. I’ve read up on it, I know what’s happening, but I’ll likely never know what it’s like to be racially abused or beaten to death because of the colour of my skin. So of course, all I can do is offer my support, my help, and my knee.
The crazy thing is that, in this day, in this age, a movement like this has to happen. But like I said, I am all read up on it, and it does have to happen. I’d love to live in a world where calling someone a nigger is as funny and insignificant as calling somebody a white honky, or a flannel-fondler, or a douché. But it’s not and it probably never will be, because of the history of the world and because of, you guessed it, politics.
Media tend to fuck with things too, spewing nonsense where it really needn’t be. Like early on in the BLM movement, where some loser internet scout scoured the web for trouble and found it in the form of some tiny racist cult with the same name. And then the media promoted that for a few days before Madeline McCann broke the airwaves, again. The fuck man? What’s the fucking point? Let this peaceful protest work. Give it a fucking chance to work!
Then there’s a little thing called Coronavirus, politics fucked that too: lefties are the ones wearing their masks in their cars on their own and spouting self-righteous bullshit on social media from the confines of their keyboard, and righties are the ones strutting around the supermarket maskless, and writing grammatically incorrect Facebook posts about it.
Why does everything have to come down to politics? Money, power, education, religion, health, art, food, drink, drugs, agriculture, sex, dildos, Santa Clause, tables, chairs, houses, cars, MOT’s, football, tennis, and hand jobs – all fall under political subsections and I’m totally fucked off with each one.
Why can’t people just respect other people and that be that?
Me? I’m no politician, as I’ve said before, and so if you ever asked me where I stood on the political spectrum, I’d say right in the center, on the fence, my butthole impaled on the spike, because that’s the only place on the whole unhinged scale where I can try my best to see from both sides. I’m a fucking pussy really, though, and I know the world needs left-wing-lunatics and right-wing-radicals. But why? Let’s just bomb the fucking thing and start again.
Admittedly, I went off on a tangent, just then – an un-researched tangent – and I don’t mean to offend anyone, that’s not my goal. Though, I expect I probably have done. I don’t mean to. I don’t want to. But hey, there’ll be about five or six hundred people in seven-billion who read this. I can say what the hell I want and that loser internet scout will never find me. So I’m probably safe from death threats for now . . .
What I actually wanted to say was hello. I wanted to ask how you are, and I wanted to give you all an update with what I’m getting up to during these crazy crazy times, but it seems I’ve waffled on for far too long.
So I’ll write something happier, perhaps something more informative, next time my naughty one-year-old goes down for a nap.
Till then, brothers, sisters.