ONLY A MENTAL RETARD would accuse another of being a racist, and, in the next breath, extoll the virtues of their own particular culture or lineage. Moreover, only one whom despises their own race for being inferior shouts ‘racist’ at another for pointing out that which they already know to be true.
All democracies are based upon racism: the belief [an acceptance that something exists or is true, especially one without proof] that all members of each race [a group, especially of people, with particular similar physical characteristics, who are considered as belonging to the same type, or the fact of belonging to such a group] possess characteristics, abilities, or qualities specific to that race, especially so as to distinguish it as inferior [lower in rank, status, or quality] or superior [higher in rank, status, or quality] to another race or races.
Never, in all my 63 years, have I seen British journalism used to corrupt the English language, from which it was born, in such an organised and concerted manner by systematically abandoning all principle in favour of shutting down democratic debate. The idea that racist views are unacceptable in a democracy is an assault upon Democracy itself. And the very idea that a journalist (not a columnist) may pour scorn upon any individual’s views, cherry-pick facts to slant a reader’s or viewer’s interpretation, or simply spike stories that do not support their own racist opinions is an insult even to Pravda.
I was once forced to write to all my local schools regarding a story that I knew would be spiked, encouraging them to only conduct research using sites they trusted – and only to trust the British and American Press; ‘because, although each title has its own political spin,’ I said, ‘you can always be sure of the facts.’
The mainstream media and broadcasters, these past few weeks, have now proved me to be a liar. Moreover, as a firm opponent of Leveson, I wonder now if he did not have a valid point. How can any individual, like myself, continue to support a race that I thought I was a part of, which has thoroughly abandoned the very principles which I have stood for all my life?
Where is the journalism in comparing a German family with a group of Romanian men? Where is the journalism in denying one Romanian woman the ability to express her views in favour of another’s whose are opposite? Where is the journalism in asking if something is true, and then continuing to ask the same question despite the fact that it has already been answered? Where is the journalism in asking a closed question anyway, unless it is to confirm what has previously been badly expressed? And when the fuck was a journalist’s personal opinion ever relevant in an interview?
There is a basic journalistic principle that should never be undermined; each article and each broadcast piece should be constructed along the lines of: confirmed facts; accusations about the subject; and then the subject’s response – in that specific order. It is the same order in which criminal trials are conducted and there is a very good reason for that particular sequence being maintained.
Human short term memory is only capable of retaining around seven new facts at a time; and the order in which facts are presented determines how they are processed by our brains. In effect: we process the latest seven facts by comparing them to the previous seven in order to form an opinion – and then we consider the next seven facts to determine if we should consign that opinion to our beliefs. For that reason, journalists present proven facts at the beginning, telling readers or viewers what they should already know; then they present the prosecutor’s argument, followed by that presented by the defence. The result is to leave their audience considering what they have been told, to determine what they choose to believe.
You cannot state the defence case before the prosecution’s – because the prosecution would always win. It makes the defendant a sitting duck for those who accuse him because they only need to throw doubt upon what he has said, without presenting any evidence of their own original charge. Similarly, you cannot present proven facts, which the audience needs to be aware of, at the end; because that ensures they are denied the very basis upon which to form an unbiased conclusion.
Every journalist is taught this fundamental rule; but virtually every MSM ‘journalist’ has chosen to reverse that principle to force their own opinions upon the public with their respective editor’s full approval. None are worthy of the title that they erroneously claim; they insult all those that uphold the principle of free speech in the face of fierce establishment opposition throughout the world; and they trash the very names of those brave journalists whom remain imprisoned or have given their lives to defend the right of everyone to be heard.
When a news site sets itself against free speech by preventing readers from commenting; by manipulating voting; or by deleting comments claiming that they do not abide by ‘their terms:’ you know that democracy has given way to dictatorship – and that there is only one possible way to vote, irrespective of your political beliefs, on Thursday 22 May, and in the General Election next year.
These two elections are not about political policies: they are both about reclaiming Local Government and Parliament for the People; so that we can learn what has been done in our names – and then decide how to put things right. The fact is, we will not know how to specifically address the damage that has been done by those whom have governed us without first gaining the power to discover what we have not been told – and revealing all the sordid facts.
On Thursday, and next year’s General Election, G.K.Chesterton’s Secret People (the silent majority) will speak first before it acts…
Smile at us, pay us, pass us; but do not quite forget,
For we are the people of England, that never has spoken yet.
There is many a fat farmer that drinks less cheerfully,
There is many a free French peasant who is richer and sadder than we.
There are no folk in the whole world so helpless or so wise.
There is hunger in our bellies, there is laughter in our eyes;
You laugh at us and love us, both mugs and eyes are wet:
Only you do not know us. For we have not spoken yet.
The fine French kings came over in a flutter of flags and dames.
We liked their smiles and battles, but we never could say their names.
The blood ran red to Bosworth and the high French lords went down;
There was naught but a naked people under a naked crown.
And the eyes of the King's Servants turned terribly every way,
And the gold of the King's Servants rose higher every day.
They burnt the homes of the shaven men, that had been quaint and kind,
Till there was no bed in a monk's house, nor food that man could find.
The inns of God where no man paid, that were the wall of the weak,
The King's Servants ate them all. And still we did not speak.
And the face of the King's Servants grew greater than the King:
He tricked them, and they trapped him, and stood round him in a ring.
The new grave lords closed round him, that had eaten the abbey's fruits,
And the men of the new religion, with their Bibles in their boots,
We saw their shoulders moving, to menace or discuss,
And some were pure and some were vile; but none took heed of us.
We saw the King as they killed him, and his face was proud and pale;
And a few men talked of freedom, while England talked of ale.
A war that we understood not came over the world and woke
Americans, Frenchmen, Irish; but we knew not the things they spoke.
They talked about rights and nature and peace and the people's reign:
And the squires, our masters, bade us fight; and never scorned us again.
Weak if we be for ever, could none condemn us then;
Men called us serfs and drudges; men knew that we were men.
In foam and flame at Trafalgar, on Albuera plains,
We did and died like lions, to keep ourselves in chains,
We lay in living ruins; firing and fearing not
The strange fierce face of the Frenchman who knew for what he fought,
And the man who seemed to be more than man we strained against and broke;
And we broke our own rights with him. And still we never spoke.
Our path of glory ended; we never heard guns again.
But the squire seemed struck in the saddle; he was foolish, as if in pain.
He leaned on a staggering lawyer, he clutched a cringing Jew,
He was stricken; it may be, after all, he was stricken at Waterloo.
Or perhaps the shades of the shaven men, whose spoil is in his house,
Come back in shining shapes at last to spoil his last carouse:
We only know the last sad squires ride slowly towards the sea,
And a new people takes the land: and still it is not we.
They have given us into the hands of the new unhappy lords,
Lords without anger and honour, who dare not carry their swords.
They fight by shuffling papers; they have bright dead alien eyes;
They look at our labour and laughter as a tired man looks at flies.
And the load of their loveless pity is worse than the ancient wrongs,
Their doors are shut in the evenings; and they know no songs.
We hear men speaking for us of new laws strong and sweet,
Yet is there no man speaketh as we speak in the street.
It may be we shall rise the last as Frenchmen rose the first,
Our wrath come after Russia's wrath and our wrath be the worst.
It may be we are meant to mark with our riot and our rest
God's scorn for all men governing. It may be beer is best.
But we are the people of England; and we have not spoken yet.
Smile at us, pay us, pass us. But do not quite forget.
I will be expressing my firm racism this Thursday by voting in the European and local elections. Please make sure, for all our sakes – and those of our unborn children – that you do exactly the same, and vote for the new race that is born…