Tuesday, 1 April 2014

A Silly Walk Into Oblivion

  ". . .  you think well, well, well what's going on?" - John Cleese. commenting that London is no longer an English city.

Ever notice the deafening silence from Britain's celebrity culture when it comes to the ongoing Muslim takeover of their homeland? Where are the songs and skits and films protesting the Islamic invasion? Where are "Sir Paul" and "Sir Mick" when we need them most? There's a mosque in Penny Lane and Time is on the side of the people inside it.
        Most of the "stars" are cowards, they like to say they're "lovers, not fighters," but they really love only themselves and their bank accounts. Nothing must threaten their popularity, and speaking out against the insanity of immigration might result in some loss of cool in the eyes of their loyal liberal fan base, never mind the almost certain outcry it would provoke from the press.
          It's also worth noting that people like Cleese are in some way actually to blame for the current malaise: they were front and centre in the rush to dismantle traditionalist England during the sixties and seventies. Everything connoting the past or conventional mores was mocked and spat upon (literally, if you recall Spitting Image) by them and their media cohorts; and so they in some degree paved the way for the Muslim's own more radical negation of British values. No coincidene that street fighting Jagger has openly espoused anarchism and insulted the queen. A rolling stone gathers no moss and Mick gathers no gratitude or allegiance to the people that made him fabulously rich. He's always toyed with Satanism and now that the people who really believe in Satan have shown up, he's fled to rural France.
           The Stones did their share to wreck things, of course. But if you had to choose one song to embody the entire rush into British self-alienation it would have to be the Beatles' absurdist paean "A Day in the Life." A fantastic composition, to be sure, musically speaking. But in its crashing last chord of drop-out oblivion, I can't help but hear, in retrospect, the insidious echo of adhan.
       Like John Lennon, the silly walk genius was a child of the irony age but the big irony is on them all: most of those "different cultures around London" being ruefully observed by Cleese will never be able to "get" Monty Python or "A Day in the Life." And some day neither will we.

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