Craig Stone's Blog, page 8
July 8, 2013
the church wipe the slate clean, by saying sorry for fucking children
The church leader, inside a dark helmet invisible to the all too easily submissive, breathes in rapidly then slowly back out again. He stands at the end of a long table, thin boys stand in cages behind him; tear ducts failing, all dried out.
No women in here, they aren’t invited.
Women talk. Women might not like the unspoken rules of the club.
“All those in favour of unreservedly apologising raise your hand.”
All the men, impatient with life because they plan to really start it afterwards, stare at each other.
Nobody raises their hand.
The leader continues; his tongue rests at the base of his lip, subconsciously collecting new deposits of invisible salt.
His voice is a rasp, echoing an otherwise well hidden reptilian quality.
He rubs his nice hands together. Under his nails bits of faecal matter shift at a molecular level.
The boys, in the invisible cages they can never escape from, know all about the molecules underneath what everybody else thinks they see.
The other immaculate hands in the room rest innocently on the table out in the open; groomed to perfection, no visible lies on the surface, at least.
“Well then, who wants to fuck a bo…
A cough.
A hand rises.
The PR guy, Graham.
What does Graham know?
He hasn’t been reading the same book for 50 years because he’s scared his Dad will come back with the belt.
Graham’s an idiot.
Graham doesn’t understand what it’s like to make sacrifices to get out from the family environment, to deny the normal family home because of a negative childhood.
My mother, I wonder if her memory will ever let go of me.
Graham speaks; a wisp of a man, a twig sprouting a single green leaf loosely hanging from the end of a dead tree.
“We live in a PR world. You can’t ignore people. The world wants you to apologise. Unreservedly. If you just apologise unreservedly people might start to think well… that you are against raping boys.”
Everybody laughs.
Kind faces; white teeth.
Perfectly clean hands.
Sharp glances, thorns, connect to other sharp glances across the table; crowned eyes connect subservient minds, everybody – except Graham – understands what it’s like being married to God.
It’s so cold… so lonely.
Whisky breath, just slightly.
The laughter dies down; Graham isn’t joking, they realise.
The leader clears his throat, but doesn’t shift the scream from his windpipe.
“This has nothing to do with the bloody world. With all due respect, I think we are the experts on what our God wants us to do.”
The priests in the room nod their heads; nodding dogs on springs in the back of a car heading off a cliff.
Graham wonders when that slight change occurred, when man stopped being the servants of God, and started being his owners, to commit acts in his name as they please.
Maybe that’s the way it’s always been.
The leader continues to share his thoughts…
“I guess we could pretend to be against it. We could apologise to the world. More families will put their children in churches. More children will come to our doors.”
The room perks up.
The fat silence is replaced with a feverish mumbling; thoughts that should not be inside heads become whispers, bleached nails dig into the polished oak table.
Naked skin clams over, just slightly.
“This is God’s will.”
Confirms the leader.
Graham wonders if “God’s will” was once “God’s willy” and at some point they crossed the Y off for respectability.
Graham speaks.
“You will apologise unreservedly?”
The leader nods.
Graham knows old people never apologise, and when they do they never really mean it.
Arrogance is a thick curtain, that once pulled, reveals nothing behind it.
The leader explains to Graham none of this is really the fault of the church.
He explains religion encourages them to give up sex, and places them in the company of boys.
Really, we are the victims he says.
With no concept that they decide the rules of how they worship their God, with no recognition that somewhere in the history of their church someone decided to ban girls, and surround themselves with young boys.
A highly unnatural state, the leader admits, and Graham asks if that makes any sense at all, and the leader replies…
Of course Graham! A highly unnatural state is what God is.
Graham wonders just how narcissistic you have to be to believe God needs you.
Graham looks out of the window, and decides next time he wants to feel God he’ll get up early, and watch daybreak.
Not the breakfast show on ITV, though he likes it, but Planet Earth twisting into a star.
There are no internal questions pounding the brain when witnessing the sunrise, just beauty.
There are no thoughts of hate when witnessing the sunrise, just peace.
Nobody blames the sunrise.
Graham thinks peace on earth and beauty is what religion claims to want to bring, but never does; never has, and according to all the evidence, never will.
***
The Church of England have unreservedly apologised today for abusing thousands of boys going back to the minute sexually repressed men encouraged boys away from their parents.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-23215388
This is a very good thing; the first bricks in a better wall.
If you believe in God, don’t get me wrong.
I am not anti belief.
I am not an atheist.
I believe any person has a right to believe in anything they damn well want to, as long as that belief does not bring harm to others.
(The second half of that sentence is a philosophical fucknut).
I believe truth is likely found somewhere between atheism and God.
Everybody is probably not completely right, but neither is everybody completely wrong.
What I am against is the church. Please do not confuse the two.
Please do not confuse the institution of the church with God or belief.
The church is a system built by man. Inside the church, are old men, in dresses, raping boys.
The unreserved apology from The Church of England – although welcome – is proof, if you still need it, that these men, hiding beneath the protected guise of religion and rose tinted specs worn by their following, walking around in their easy to access dresses, have been raping boys since the beginning of their history.
The billions of pounds and dollars paid out worldwide in court cases to abused boys, is undeniable proof.
Don’t look away.
Don’t turn a blind eye.
Ask the internet for facts:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Catholic_sex_abuse_cases#Lawsuits_and_their_effects
The church is the biggest paedophile ring in history; and if that offends you, I don’t give a fuck.
Take your glass half full and throw the contents into your face, to wake yourself up to the truth.
The truth is offensive; it opens the eyes of those who fail to see, because real life is a challenging thing.
And, obviously, all priests are not paedophiles. I understand that, but there are enough bad apples in the cart to start making any person with a conscience wonder if apples are still needed.
Good fruit rots faster, next to rotting fruit.
Only in the crazy world of religion, could an institution be proven to systematically rape boys, and still be allowed incorporate boys into the fabric of everything they do. Only in the crazy world of the church, could repeated paedophile cases come to light and the institution keep on trucking.
If I was a priest, I would hand in my collar, because I would not want to be affiliated with the vile actions of my fellow believers.
To leave your child in the care of a bloke wearing a dress, who has allegedly cut off all normal sexual contact with people his own age, because a really old book has told him to, who believes a voice speaks to him, is the most reckless deluded act a parent can make.
Stop leaving your children with old religious men in dresses.
STOP IT.
Don’t be an idiot.
If you want to teach children about God, show them the ocean.
If you want to teach children about religion, show them the bible.
If you want to teach children about paedophilia, leave them alone with a priest.
July 4, 2013
Duck-billed Platypus sucks man’s face off at Wimbledon
other observations:
Andrew Murray is about to serve with broccoli.
Somebody has stolen the man’s horse standing next to Murray.
Both Andy and the wee man next to Andy appear to be plugged in.
July 3, 2013
The road signs in Wales look like Whales
I sat in the passenger seat driving through Wales, the radio was set to the level that destroys all car journeys by altering their natural state from relaxed joint venture, to trying to guess what the other person is thinking.
The radio volume was neither too high to dictate silence, nor too low to induce conversation; indecisive. A man thinking he should kiss the girl, but instead asking her what her favourite episode of Glee is. A show he inexplicably hated, because he’s never seen it.
Should we turn the radio up? Who should turn it up? If I turn it up, will that mean the person driving will think I don’t want to talk?
Could that encourage the driver to think I’m awkward around them?
Might that induce feelings of resentment toward me, that might come out later, in an unspoken quarrel about who ate the last bag of crisps?
They might try to harmonise the situation by trying harder to like me, which might mean they turn the volume back down and fill the silence by saying what they see – even though I’m seeing exactly the same things…looking through exactly the same windscreen.
The problem with me turning the volume down, instead of up – was exactly the same, only upside down.
No, I decided, my only course of action was to look out of the window and leave the responsibility of the radio volume in the mind of the driver.
So I looked out of my window, and that’s when I noticed…
The road signs in Wales look like Whales…
June 7, 2013
photograph of fat lady shopping is *not* posted on-line for the amusement of idiots…
A large woman, wearing jogging bottoms two sizes too small, with large breasts cascading over her too tight bra, with messy hair smelling of cat was seen shopping today in Walmart, and her picture was not taken by a person and then put on the internet for the whole world to laugh at and judge.
As the large woman paid for her shopping, what started as an unusual event, turned into a modern day miracle
Three younger, skinny, tanned, blonde, non cat smelling women looked on.
None of the blonde women reached for their phone.
They refused to nudge each other; the act which usually symbolises the beginning of agreeing people who look different, are a mess to be laughed at.
The three blondes did not whisper words sold as jokes, haunted by unnecessary hate.
The three blondes listened as, in a brief exchange, the woman explained she has a thyroid problem, and her weight has fluctuated for years.
The large woman went on to explain she was suffering in these tough economic times, and the blonde women looked on nodding their heads – as if understanding and empathising with what it’s like to not be a person accepted into the fold of popularity because of their looks, and their ability to post photographs on-line of fat people shopping in Walmart.
In a further turn of unexpected wonder, the skinny blonde women noticed the large woman’s basket contained two large tubs of ice-cream, and listened as the large woman felt the need to explain…
“…Because I don’t have many friends. It’s just me and my husband, you see. And well, life can be really hard sometimes looking like me. So, we both get quite a lot out of the simple pleasure of eating the occasional chocolate chip ice cream.”
Not one of the blonde women heard this and rolled their eyes.
One of the girls felt like giving the large woman a hug; she felt bad for how the behaviour of large groups of people conform other people to behave against minorities.
When the large woman noticed slimmer people, she only ever wondered what it would be like to be like them.
No hate. No bullying.
The large woman thanked the man serving her for a wonderful chat.
In another world first, the oldest, tallest and skinniest blonde woman, with the most bleached hair, did not think who in the world would want to share a bed with you?
The youngest blonde in the group did not think I should laugh now at my friend’s comment, because I don’t really know what’s going on, and I just want to fit in.
The middle blonde woman did not make her face large, and nor did she use her hands to look bigger than she was.
Nobody laughed in the group of three, at the expense of the individual.
Instead, in a continuation of events most unexpected, the blonde women walked over to the large woman; they formed a line, and asked if there was anything they could learn from her.
They stood chatting for a moment, and discovered they were all the same.
They exchanged names, and the blonde girls took a group photograph of the large woman who they now knew as Sarah, a photograph they shared on Facebook and Twitter.
Sarah left to go home, and the three blonde girls felt something they had almost forgotten, a feeling almost lost in the tiny space between trying to fit underneath Christina Aguilera’s skin and trying to be them.
They felt good about themselves.
The photo they shared to the world was not a cheap shot taken from behind of a woman just trying to get on with her life.
The girls felt good about themselves because they hadn’t bullied or mocked, ridiculed or put down.
They hadn’t judged; perhaps, they had judged for the last time.
They hadn’t slimed behind the back of a stranger they had not tried to understand.
They hadn’t used the pain and suffering of one, for a foothold on social media; sold their kindness, for a Facebook like.
This first time, where they had resisted all the temptations of highlighting difference, could be the first step on the path to people being nicer.
They all agreed, they felt a warm feeling inside.
The youngest blonde woman even said to hell with this diet, and ran to the back of the shop, to find the biggest tub of ice cream she could carry.
Sarah got home, and found them on Facebook, and friends were made.
This was the first time this has happened in Walmart.
And it’s sad that it’s news, but if news is interesting because it’s new; if news is interesting because the event is rare – then meeting Sarah, instead of posting pictures of her arse on-line behind her back, really is a first.
Because that’s the world we are enjoying, mocking the few whose lives we don’t try to understand.
So, next time you’re behind someone you want to laugh at, before you do, maybe you should face their front, look them in the eye and meet them.
Extend your hand.
Take a photo of you and a new friend; don’t take a photo of a person you refused to meet, to please people you never will.
Fat lady shopping in Walmart picture is not posted on-line…WORLD EXCLUSIVE!
A large woman, wearing jogging bottoms two sizes too small, with large breasts cascading over her too tight bra, with messy hair smelling of cat was seen shopping today in Walmart, and her picture was not taken by a person and then put on the internet for the whole world to laugh at and judge.
As the large woman paid for her shopping, what started as an unusual event, turned into a modern day miracle
Three younger, skinny, tanned, blonde, non cat smelling women looked on.
None of the blonde women reached for their phone.
They refused to nudge each other; the act which usually symbolises the beginning of agreeing people who look different, are a mess to be laughed at.
The three blondes did not whisper words sold as jokes, haunted by unnecessary hate.
The three blondes listened as, in a brief exchange, the woman explained she has a thyroid problem, and her weight has fluctuated for years.
The large woman went on to explain she was suffering in these tough economic times, and the blonde women looked on nodding their heads – as if understanding and empathising with what it’s like to not be a person accepted into the fold of popularity because of their looks, and their ability to post photographs on-line of fat people shopping in Walmart.
In a further turn of unexpected wonder, the skinny blonde women noticed the large woman’s basket contained two large tubs of ice-cream, and listened as the large woman felt the need to explain…
“…Because I don’t have many friends. It’s just me and my husband, you see. And well, life can be really hard sometimes looking like me. So, we both get quite a lot out of the simple pleasure of eating the occasional chocolate chip ice cream.”
Not one of the blonde women heard this and rolled their eyes.
One of the girls felt like giving the large woman a hug; she felt bad for how the behaviour of large groups of people conform other people to behave against minorities.
When the large woman noticed slimmer people, she only ever wondered what it would be like to be like them.
No hate. No bullying.
The large woman thanked the man serving her for a wonderful chat.
In another world first, the oldest, tallest and skinniest blonde woman, with the most bleached hair, did not think who in the world would want to share a bed with you?
The youngest blonde in the group did not think I should laugh now at my friend’s comment, because I don’t really know what’s going on, and I just want to fit in.
The middle blonde woman did not make her face large, and nor did she use her hands to look bigger than she was.
Nobody laughed in the group of three, at the expense of the individual.
Instead, in a continuation of events most unexpected, the blonde women walked over to the large woman; they formed a line, and asked if there was anything they could learn from her.
They stood chatting for a moment, and discovered they were all the same.
They exchanged names, and the blonde girls took a group photograph of the large woman who they now knew as Sarah, a photograph they shared on Facebook and Twitter.
Sarah left to go home, and the three blonde girls felt something they had almost forgotten, a feeling almost lost in the tiny space between trying to fit underneath Christina Aguilera’s skin and trying to be them.
They felt good about themselves.
The photo they shared to the world was not a cheap shot taken from behind of a woman just trying to get on with her life.
The girls felt good about themselves because they hadn’t bullied or mocked, ridiculed or put down.
They hadn’t judged; perhaps, they had judged for the last time.
They hadn’t slimed behind the back of a stranger they had not tried to understand.
They hadn’t used the pain and suffering of one, for a foothold on social media; sold their kindness, for a Facebook like.
This first time, where they had resisted all the temptations of highlighting difference, could be the first step on the path to people being nicer.
They all agreed, they felt a warm feeling inside.
The youngest blonde woman even said to hell with this diet, and ran to the back of the shop, to find the biggest tub of ice cream she could carry.
Sarah got home, and found them on Facebook, and friends were made.
This was the first time this has happened in Walmart.
And it’s sad that it’s news, but if news is interesting because it’s new; if news is interesting because the event is rare – then meeting Sarah, instead of posting pictures of her arse on-line behind her back, really is a first.
Because that’s the world we are enjoying, mocking the few whose lives we don’t try to understand.
So, next time you’re behind someone you want to laugh at, before you do, maybe you should face their front, look them in the eye and meet them.
Extend your hand.
Take a photo of you and a new friend; don’t take a photo of a person you refused to meet, to please people you never will.
May 26, 2013
May 25, 2013
UK Police Burgle the Homeless
http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2013/may/24/met-police-rough-sleepers-possessions
Great answers come from children; if you ever need a moral compass, don’t look to the old people laying the law down on us, or the flashing television showing biased versions of what you’re allowed to think the news is.
Just ask a child, young enough to not be manipulated by your own thoughts, and the truth will spill out between requests for a cartoon and a smell, indicating a nappy needs to be changed.
I asked a friend’s kid what he would do if the police stole his bed in the middle of the night, whilst he was asleep.
“The police don’t steal”
So I said, yes, but what if?
I was met with a giggle and told not to be so silly.
What this situation boils down to is nobody, from a six year old child to a 32 year old man sitting at his computer, can quite understand what the fuck could motivate the police force anywhere in this country to take the last few possessions from the homeless.
Ilford Chief Inspector John Fish said they stole the last belongings from people lost on the way to where they belong to “reduce the negative impact of rough sleepers.”
What about the negative impact on the wider community of police officers being bullying, narcissistic, unwise fools?
How about, if you want to reduce the negative impact of rough sleepers, instead of taking away everything they have, you help them. You talk to them. You call around homeless shelters, you do a bit of police work for an hour, you find them somewhere warm, and safe, to sleep?
What about you state you can only reduce the negative impact of rough sleepers if you do not negatively impact on the reputation of the metropolitan police force?
At least, with that rule, the outcome would logically be the homeless would keep their belongings, they would be moved from parks, but to somewhere warm, and safe.
I’m pretty sure the officers carrying out this role, would rather go home, look their children in the eye and tell them that earlier that night they helped someone; instead of saying the wider implications of their actions could mean they are responsible for the death of a person.
What about the negative impact of bad press? The officer who made this decision on behalf of the public, decided putting a life at risk from dying in the cold at night, was better than a member of the community complaining a man is sleeping rough in a park.
What causes greater negative impact:
A sleeping bag on a bench with a homeless person in? Or…
A dead body on a bench with no sleeping bag?
Because of these recent actions by the police, should you find yourself homeless and at one of the lowest mental points a person can reach – you now face a new risk. The cold, hunger, drugs, alcohol, and threats of violence are no longer the only devils in the gauntlet.
The very line of sanity, the thin blue line – is being wrapped around bearded throats.
The people forgotten by society are being cast aside by society’s moral code.
The police force has joined the side happy to kick men when they’re down.
Homeless people do not need their blankets and food taken away, by police officers who will later return to their warm homes, and think nothing about what they have done…
Homeless people need blankets taken to them, they need food, they need a shoulder, they need an ear to listen to; they need help getting back on the ladder.
They do not need their only belongings in the word stolen from them, and the ladder pulled away.
Possessions for the average person are important. The police officer will return to his bed, he will watch his television; he will walk through his house, past his pictures of his family on the wall, up his stairs, past his office, past his kid’s room and into his bed.
He will walk past all of these rooms, all littered with his possessions.
These possessions are important to him; if there was a fire and he lost them – he might even cry.
But, his possessions would be replaced.
They are still just possessions.
To a homeless man, possessions are not just possessions – they are life; entire worlds.
When you have nothing, truly nothing, that old photograph in your wallet becomes your family.
The old sleeping bag becomes your wife.
Your plastic bag becomes your children.
What looks like rubbish to an outsider looking in, is the tangible, the life being clung onto by the man looking out.
When the police walked into the life of Adam Jaskowiak they did not just take a bag, his possessions and his food.
They burnt his house down.
They stole his wife.
They took his children.
They fucked with his head, taking the last shreds of what he had.
The policeman might cry if his house burns down; but a homeless guy, left with only his skin and his mind, may very well want to die.
Now imagine the policeman’s house didn’t burn down by accident. Imagine it was by design. A deliberate act by men sent to destroy it, forcing the innocent officer to scream and run away into the night.
Now imagine the gross injustice, if those men who destroyed everything the policeman had walked away, believing their actions righteous.
That is exactly what the “police” did to Adam Jaskowiak.
How is that justice?
As a society we are governed by our laws, and our laws are policed by people who serve the queen.
I wonder what the queen would think, looking out from her 57th bedroom at Buckingham Palace, central heating blazing away, about the acts taken in her name.
I wonder further, what she would say, if the next time Adam Jaskowiak has his sleeping bag stolen, on a freezing cold London night, if he went to Buckingham Palace and asked if he could stay.
After all, the Queen has plenty of spare rooms; and these acts are being carried out in her name.
http://www.shelter.org.uk/donate?appeal=20121107-IG-40&gclid=CIiHlpXXsbcCFfIPtAodRxgA1w
May 24, 2013
Make eye contact. Shake hands. Communicate. Build peace…
Before we are told what to think, we have to learn how to think for ourselves; otherwise how can we hope to interpret the true meaning behind words?
If we put an over 18 certificate on all religious books, I wonder what type of world our children would grow up in?
Perhaps a world still with religions, but with religions supported by the understanding of men, a world not lost in the anger and confusion of boys hoping to be accepted by them.
Worryingly though, the answer is our children would grow up in the same world – because a growing number of devout haven’t actually read the books they base who they’re on for themselves. Instead, feverish folk are going along with what jittery folk say, and in turn, churning out idiotness.
But, it’s okay though – because somebody at some point read it somewhere. Probably. At least, he said he did.
At what point do we stop blaming God, and stand up and say – man, shut the fuck up. You are an idiot.
God might reasonably think today “Religion hasn’t worked out. Wars and killings, division and hate; all caused by a few simple rules I thought might work out, if I put them in place.”
Rules no fucker is reading, or abiding by anyway.
God would banish religion to hell, for what it’s done to his children.
I know I would, if I was the Dad.
And then I think, hold on…
For me to blame religious folk for war, is no different than religions blaming religions for wars.
The responsibility is ours, as individuals.
The responsibility is mine.
To draw my own moral line in the sand, to define who I am not by a book, or by a father’s hand, or by friends, or by government.
I get to decide who I am.
No matter what happens to me, no matter how horrible, how much loss; I decide who I am.
So to judge religion on the worst sum of its parts, is wrong; unfair, unjust.
There are billions of peaceful people practicing all sorts of religions all over the world who are lovely.
Unlike this American twitter user; a misguided believer in his own enlightenment, who I fear represents a growing demographic. One of those idiots I mentioned earlier, who hasn’t actually read the Bible, and thinks he knows all about Islam because Fox News isolated a few out of context passages from the Qur’an to explain American foreign policy to the mentally under 5′s…
Fools aside, from young Muslims who haven’t read the Qur’an to angry Christians who think they know what’s inside a book they’ve never held in their hands – WE DO live in a world where most of us are lovely, beautiful people.
We get on with our lives; go to work, love our families.
We look out of the window of buses, travel on the same route, and watch our hands get old repeating the process.
Because we love our families.
Because we are beautiful.
Intelligent.
Wise.
Two men in Woolwich committed an act of horror, which has shocked every person in the UK with a heart.
Everyone who feels, everyone who loves; every father, woman and child.
The news shocked every Muslim, every Christian and Catholic.
The news shocked every person from every religion.
The news shocked every atheist, just the same.
The collective breath of disbelief reminded me not of our differences, but that beneath our safety blanket of what we choose to believe (or not believe) in; we are just people.
Splodges of fat covered in skin. Eyes sensitive to light.
The same.
The actions of two men, who represent the smallest minority of the most lost and manipulated minds to have ever existed, should not influence the logical, free thinking, healthy mind of the human being born free from such thinkings.
If the insane actions of the radicalised minority make you believe all Muslims are the same; then you were likely already a racist, and you were just looking for something to give foundations to hatred.
I want Muslims to know that the BNP/EDL – these white men, young, illiterate, drunk by midday – do not represent me.
They do not represent so many of the normal, beautiful, happy, folk in the UK today.
And I am not alone.
And I, in-turn, want Muslims to understand that I know these radical Muslims do not represent the majority of Muslims.
Because I am not an idiot – The UK is no.15 in the world IQ rankings*. So, the good news is – there are loads of us who are not stupid.
The media (the pretty fucking racist media) love to portray the city of London at war; but we are not at war, we are struggling towards peace.
There are millions of people all over the UK who think and feel just the same.
Both the BNP, EDL and “terrorists” are extremists – each wasting the process of evolution that has gone before, that has carried them into now.
They all believe that the actions of the few, represent the desire of the many; because it’s the only way they can excuse their violence.
The BNP/EDL blame all Muslims for the act of a few Muslims, as if a normal Muslim bloke sitting at home on his PC in Brixton has a single fucking clue what two extreme idiots are planning to do in Woolwich.
And the Muslim extremists blame the English people for the acts of our entire government. As if me, a bloke sitting at his PC at home, who is not in the army and voted against going to war – is to blame for the fact that we did.
That’s how dumb this is!
The Muslim extremists/BNP/EDL are the few – judging themselves, judging themselves back.
They are the same as their enemy; they are the enemy they think they have.
Fortunately the majority of people in this country are not the idiotic fighting few.
The many are good, we are kind, we love Muslims, we love all people who do the best they can.
No matter what God someone prays to, no matter what colour their skin.
No Muslim is to blame, for the act of crazy men.
I send love and respect to the Muslim community, for widely condemning the attack.
How the Muslim community has responded has built trust, not eroded it.
If before there was no direction, a general sense of not knowing what to do within the Muslim community – a sort of “these guys can’t be serious can they?”
Then now, today – every good Muslim knows – call the police; tell somebody.
Talk.
The Muslim community has come out in defiance against the attack.
The community has said they will work with the police; they have welcomed and participated in open conversations on live news channels.
Leaders of Mosques have confronted the hate with peace, they have confronted the accusations with explanations, the confusion with answers, and they seek to find the resolution as quickly as possible.
They are in shock too.
They can do no more!
When the two men who committed this horrific murder finally speak, their madness will be televised for all to see.
These horrific acts bring intelligent people, with hearts, closer together.
And as for the BNP and Muslim extremists – these groups only exist at polar opposites from everything that makes common sense; that is their point, to fight on the edges, for nothing other than to fight on the edge.
We cannot compare the madness around us, to us; we cannot make the madness on the edges of reason effect our reasoning.
Otherwise, we would have chaos.
The BNP/EDL and religious extremists want to break because they can’t have. They wish to make the outside, the inside. To turn order into chaos; where they would turn on themselves.
The good news is, the closer the reasoned majority in the epicentre of our societies get to each other, the closer we are to connecting the dots and reaching conclusions of understanding and logic.
And on this last point, I leave you with a tweet I noticed on twitter this morning from @PigeonCake…Which pretty much sums a lot of the ridiculousness up:
The madness of the fundamentalist does not define religion or the fundamentalist – their actions have no definition, however, they do ask questions that define me.
Who do I want to be? What do I want in my heart? How do I want to think, and feel?
Who do we want to be?
Do we let the actions of madness, fill our hearts with hatred? Do we pick up the baton these two men dropped, and continue running with it?
Fuck. No.
We get up.
We move closer together, the Muslim community and the wider population.
We work together.
We bury a soldier, a father and we mourn.
We learn the lessons; we put as many regulations as we can in place to ensure as best this does not happen again.
We make eye contact.
We shake hands.
We communicate.
We build peace.
We leave hate where it ended, on the end of a bloody knife in Woolwich.
*source of Global IQ rankings: http://www.getiq.net/charts.jsp
Leave hate where it ended, on the end of a bloody knife in Woolwich.
Before we are told what to think, we have to learn how to think for ourselves; otherwise how can we hope to interpret the true meaning behind words?
If we put an over 18 certificate on all religious books, I wonder what type of world our children would grow up in?
Perhaps a world still with religions, but with religions supported by the understanding of men, a world not lost in the anger and confusion of boys hoping to be accepted by them.
Worryingly though, the answer is our children would grow up in the same world – because a growing number of devout haven’t actually read the books they base who they’re on for themselves. Instead, feverish folk are going along with what jittery folk say, and in turn, churning out idiotness.
But, it’s okay though – because somebody at some point read it somewhere. Probably. At least, he said he did.
At what point do we stop blaming God, and stand up and say – man, shut the fuck up. You are an idiot.
God might reasonably think today “Religion hasn’t worked out. Wars and killings, division and hate; all caused by a few simple rules I thought might work out, if I put them in place.”
Rules no fucker is reading, or abiding by anyway.
God would banish religion to hell, for what it’s done to his children.
I know I would, if I was the Dad.
And then I think, hold on…
For me to blame religious folk for war, is no different than religions blaming religions for wars.
The responsibility is ours, as individuals.
The responsibility is mine.
To draw my own moral line in the sand, to define who I am not by a book, or by a father’s hand, or by friends, or by government.
I get to decide who I am.
No matter what happens to me, no matter how horrible, how much loss; I decide who I am.
So to judge religion on the worst sum of its parts, is wrong; unfair, unjust.
There are billions of peaceful people practicing all sorts of religions all over the world who are lovely.
Unlike this American twitter user; a misguided believer in his own enlightenment, who I fear represents a growing demographic. One of those idiots I mentioned earlier, who hasn’t actually read the Bible, and thinks he knows all about Islam because Fox News isolated a few out of context passages from the Qur’an to explain American foreign policy to the mentally under 5′s…
Fools aside, from young Muslims who haven’t read the Qur’an to angry Christians who think they know what’s inside a book they’ve never held in their hands – WE DO live in a world where most of us are lovely, beautiful people.
We get on with our lives; go to work, love our families.
We look out of the window of buses, travel on the same route, and watch our hands get old repeating the process.
Because we love our families.
Because we are beautiful.
Intelligent.
Wise.
Two men in Woolwich committed an act of horror, which has shocked every person in the UK with a heart.
Everyone who feels, everyone who loves; every father, woman and child.
The news shocked every Muslim, every Christian and Catholic.
The news shocked every person from every religion.
The news shocked every atheist, just the same.
The collective breath of disbelief reminded me not of our differences, but that beneath our safety blanket of what we choose to believe (or not believe) in; we are just people.
Splodges of fat covered in skin. Eyes sensitive to light.
The same.
The actions of two men, who represent the smallest minority of the most lost and manipulated minds to have ever existed, should not influence the logical, free thinking, healthy mind of the human being born free from such thinkings.
If the insane actions of the radicalised minority make you believe all Muslims are the same; then you were likely already a racist, and you were just looking for something to give foundations to hatred.
I want Muslims to know that the BNP/EDL – these white men, young, illiterate, drunk by midday – do not represent me.
They do not represent so many of the normal, beautiful, happy, folk in the UK today.
And I am not alone.
And I, in-turn, want Muslims to understand that I know these radical Muslims do not represent the majority of Muslims.
Because I am not an idiot – The UK is no.15 in the world IQ rankings*. So, the good news is – there are loads of us who are not stupid.
The media (the pretty fucking racist media) love to portray the city of London at war; but we are not at war, we are struggling towards peace.
There are millions of people all over the UK who think and feel just the same.
Both the BNP, EDL and “terrorists” are extremists – each wasting the process of evolution that has gone before, that has carried them into now.
They all believe that the actions of the few, represent the desire of the many; because it’s the only way they can excuse their violence.
The BNP/EDL blame all Muslims for the act of a few Muslims, as if a normal Muslim bloke sitting at home on his PC in Brixton has a single fucking clue what two extreme idiots are planning to do in Woolwich.
And the Muslim extremists blame the English people for the acts of our entire government. As if me, a bloke sitting at his PC at home, who is not in the army and voted against going to war – is to blame for the fact that we did.
That’s how dumb this is!
The Muslim extremists/BNP/EDL are the few – judging themselves, judging themselves back.
They are the same as their enemy; they are the enemy they think they have.
Fortunately the majority of people in this country are not the idiotic fighting few.
The many are good, we are kind, we love Muslims, we love all people who do the best they can.
No matter what God someone prays to, no matter what colour their skin.
No Muslim is to blame, for the act of crazy men.
I send love and respect to the Muslim community, for widely condemning the attack.
How the Muslim community has responded has built trust, not eroded it.
If before there was no direction, a general sense of not knowing what to do within the Muslim community – a sort of “these guys can’t be serious can they?”
Then now, today – every good Muslim knows – call the police; tell somebody.
Talk.
The Muslim community has come out in defiance against the attack.
The community has said they will work with the police; they have welcomed and participated in open conversations on live news channels.
Leaders of Mosques have confronted the hate with peace, they have confronted the accusations with explanations, the confusion with answers, and they seek to find the resolution as quickly as possible.
They are in shock too.
They can do no more!
When the two men who committed this horrific murder finally speak, their madness will be televised for all to see.
These horrific acts bring intelligent people, with hearts, closer together.
And as for the BNP and Muslim extremists – these groups only exist at polar opposites from everything that makes common sense; that is their point, to fight on the edges, for nothing other than to fight on the edge.
We cannot compare the madness around us, to us; we cannot make the madness on the edges of reason effect our reasoning.
Otherwise, we would have chaos.
The BNP/EDL and religious extremists want to break because they can’t have. They wish to make the outside, the inside. To turn order into chaos; where they would turn on themselves.
The good news is, the closer the reasoned majority in the epicentre of our societies get to each other, the closer we are to connecting the dots and reaching conclusions of understanding and logic.
And on this last point, I leave you with a tweet I noticed on twitter this morning from @PigeonCake…Which pretty much sums a lot of the ridiculousness up:
The madness of the fundamentalist does not define religion or the fundamentalist – their actions have no definition, however, they do ask questions that define me.
Who do I want to be? What do I want in my heart? How do I want to think, and feel?
Who do we want to be?
Do we let the actions of madness, fill our hearts with hatred? Do we pick up the baton these two men dropped, and continue running with it?
Fuck. No.
We get up.
We move closer together, the Muslim community and the wider population.
We work together.
We bury a soldier, a father and we mourn.
We learn the lessons; we put as many regulations as we can in place to ensure as best this does not happen again.
We make eye contact.
We shake hands.
We communicate.
We build peace.
We leave hate where it ended, on the end of a bloody knife in Woolwich.
*source of Global IQ rankings: http://www.getiq.net/charts.jsp
May 15, 2013
A review of The Folded Man – By Matt Hill
Buy The Folded Man here, from Amazon. The Folded Man is also available from all good book shops:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Folded-Man-Matt-Hill/dp/1908737344/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_1_9EJ6
In 2018 Manchester is a rotten city propped up by a few bad men. After the cuts, the toppling of its flagship tower, the riots and the terror, the promise of a prosperous North is gone. The first industrial city is dying, its people left to themselves, and with the rise of nationalism, it’s only getting worse. Now, the only currency is trust, and Brian Meredith – addict, depressive, wheelchair-bound – has new trouble with old problems. It doesn’t help that Brian is a mermaid – or at least thinks he is.
The Folded Man was runner up in The Dundee Book Prize, and Stephen Fry himself said “the book captures the smell and essence of Britain.”
So, my expectations were high.
I was blown away.
Books lately seem plastered with quotes from other authors and the press, who throw words around like extraordinary, vivid and original; but the books never are.
The Folded Man is all three, and more.
I finished The Folded Man in four days because I couldn’t put it down.
I read in a coffee shop in Bermondsey, sitting back frequently to mull over the ideas the writer was putting into my head.
The little snippets of delightful descriptions, twists of phrases and turns of wording; of which there are many.
Matt Hill has one seriously distinctive voice, he’s set The Folded Man in an image of Britain around the corner from here…The events, the people, the life and the living it are so accessible the reader breathes in the smoke from the flames, and touches the fear of the character’s lives slipping away.
Brian is disabled and a bit of a mermaid, of sorts. He has his addictions, he wants to be left alone to rot; but then in this place nobody seems to get what they want.
The Folded Man is worthy of any accolade you wish to throw at it; five out of five stars, ten out of ten whales, thirty out of thirty golden bookmarks – if you are looking for an original voice, this is it.
Thank you to Sandstone Press for supporting an original author, in a literary land top heavy in Katie Price autobiographies.
The Folded Man is a must read.
A put whatever book you are reading down and start reading this book instead book.
And that, is exactly what you should do.
What others are saying…
‘The Folded Man captures the smell and essence of Britain through its main character, his desires, addictions and strange courage. Written with direct vividness that keeps one inside its totally realised world.’ –Stephen Fry
‘Quite simply, The Folded Man reads like Coetzee with ADHD.’ –Daniel Ellis, Litro Magazine
–Daniel Ellis, Litro Magazine
‘The rhythmic writing style is perfect, and some scenes are so brilliantly dark, perverse and engaging that your skin tingles with excitement.’ –The List
About the Author (taken from Amazon)
Matt Hill was born in 1984 and grew up in Tameside, Greater Manchester. After completing a journalism degree at Cardiff University, he trained as a copywriter. Matt currently lives and works in London.
You ll find him on Twitter @matthewhill
Here is that link again – buy The Folded Man here, from Amazon/also available from all good book shops:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Folded-Man-Matt-Hill/dp/1908737344/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_1_9EJ6
