New Year’s Eve 2020 And so 2020 passed ignominiously and pathetically, with a whimper and a whinge. Brexshit by the skin of some vampire’s teeth; dodgy vaccines; allegedly novel mutations of the lurgy; culled minks; ice shelves crumbling; divisions multiplying and the Masters of the Universe conquering like it’s going out of fashion; the Left transmogrified into some kind of genetically modified Right and the Right screaming “Marxist!” at the least provocation and always inaccurately (poor old Karl must be turning in his grave…). And, of course, the eternal, canonic Russia/China/Iran trilateral dastardly plot to destroy our wonderful, freedom-loving, democracy-exporting Hollywoodized way of life. (Guantanamo anyone?)
Ah, me…! It’s seems almost cruel to wish you all a splendid 2021, as it’s highly improbable that it’ll be any better that 2020 was. In fact, we’ll be lucky if it isn’t much, much worse, but hey, as Mehitabel never tired of saying, whatta hell. Life is short and full of trouble but there are a few thing we can still do to make it less crappy. Use your imagination.
Also, resist, bite, dissent, object, rebel, disagree, hug a Chinese, love your loved ones and try and acquire new ones to love and cherish. Love is also mutating, from revolutionary to subversive. Cultivate it. Tend the gardens of your soul. Weed your hearts. Give Them as good as They try to give us.
Personally I shan’t complain too much. The Pantomic has affected me far less that has afflicted (when not downright destroyed) the lives of so many other people; and there have been a couple of sponditious bright spots in my life; and for this I’m glad, grateful and inclined to be gracious. Stay sane, stay groovy, stay Gramscian, have a nice life. And un po’ di mu’, of course.