21 December 2010

As flies to wanton boys, are we to gods

It is now time to start sharpening the stick at both ends.

On Wednesday of last week after two hours of what was euphemistically called "debate", the IMF/EU bail-out plan was passed by the Dail. The single most important piece of legislation to pass through the Dail in our lifetime was presented to Deputies at 11:40pm on Tuesday night, and then on the following afternoon after each of the Parties had their opportunity to present their preprepared opening statements barely 90 minutes remained for the debate. To a near empty chamber individual Deputies played to the cameras, soundbites prepared and faces of stoked ire or poker-crafted indifference were carefully affixed, and all the words were but a meaningless charade for the outcome of the vote was never in doubt once "Independents" Michael Lowry and Jackie Healy-Rae announced their support.

On the same day a small article in the Examiner mentioned that Healy-Rae's daughter had been appointed to a Government quango in the run up to the December budget, with a salary and generous expenses allowance.

Never be in any doubt of the way in which our political masters work, as Gloucester says in King Lear, "They kill us for their sport".

Thus on this, the literal low-point of the year, the Winter Solstice, the shortest day, the end of the annual ever-decreasing cycle of diminishing returns, and finding myself once more surrounded by a blanket of impenetrable white and a thermometer that told me it was -10C outside, thoughts and inevitable reflections on all that has come before began to rise unbidden with the steam from the lidless cappuccino that nestled in my protective arms, swaddled like an infant Messiah, as I navigated the unnecessarily treacherous walk (no more than twenty meters) from the coffee shop to my desk.

And the inescapable result that one must come to after such chilled and frosty analysis is that our current political system, and any faith that a thoughtful citizenry could have remaining in it, are no more. No good will ever come from the Dail for it is rotten to its very core and thus the time for rational discourse on how to work within the existing political framework is long past. We are left with the inevitable conclusion that we must now steal away Piggy's glasses, smash the conch to oblivion, and sharpen up a great many sticks on both ends before the IMF arrive to rescue us, castigating us for not being able to put up a better show than that...

Or we could all stay in where its nice and warm, drink some beer, eat some mince pies and watch "The Top One Hundred 'Top One Hundred Shows of All Time' of All Time Show", again.

Which we will.


Like the days can only get longer now, things surely can only get better.



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