(Planet Me)
Tuesday, April 09, 2013
Without A Trace

i cannot hide from it. neither can you. my hair is at war with me, and, in the spirit of any surrendering force, has taken a harsh score against me. One day, it was there, as long as I wanted, immaculate, unruly, doing whatever the fuck it wanted. Then one day, it did what it wanted, and slowly, over the course of a number of years, it fucked off to, amongst other places, my chest and my chin and the inside of my useless nose.

Allegedly, a man with no hair is sexy (Bruce Willis). But also, a man with no hair, is clearly the former singer of a metal band who has no choice but to go to the other extreme (Rob Halford, Thingy from Queensryche) is often a man who is obviously not sexy. If I don't shave my head, I end up looking like some kind of idiot, with lots of hair at the side and fuck all on top, as if I fell underneath a lawnmower. With hair like that, I might as well wear light brown coats, listening to Adele, reading The Daily Mail, and muttering about the evil unemployed like the kind of braindead commuting Tory fuckbrain I am surrounded by most days on the train. The kind of guy who thinks 27% of the 43% of my taxes that goes on welfare is defrauded (that is, around 10%) whereas in actual fact it is much closer to 1% of 2.3% - or, if you prefer 0.023% and not 10%. Hang on, I'm rambling.

My hairline makes me look like the type of right wing chunderwit that thinks the problems are the economy are the fault of the poorest and not the richest. That thinks that there is some demeneted left wing paradise that I'm funding instead of a land without mercy. I'm not that guy. Compromise, and mediocrity are for others.

I can't help it. The rumour is that it is your mothers father : a man I never really liked then, and now that he's gifted me the absence of keratin, a man I like less. People with full heads of hair walk past me as if it is simply the most natural, normal thing to ever have. They could do anything – have any style – Poodle rocker or James Bond. For me, nature has made its choice and provided me with just one choice : shorter than the lifespan of a World War I fighter pilot. The simple answer was that I never found a hairstyle I liked or could put up with, and now all the hair has decided to do the final insult of deserting me without even a formal discussion. Just woke up one day and gone. It wasn't that long ago – barely 7 years – that I walked through the door of this house for the first time as the owner of the property, with a full head of hair, and 32 years old. Now I feel as if I am older, defined – trapped almost in a box of my decisions – invisible, fading into being old, and past it, as seen by others as part of a generation with nothing to offer and yet I am not even 40. When Osborne was made Chancellor Of The Exchequer he was younger than me. Doctor Who is younger than me. This might be the cause of my mid-life crisis. Nothing to do with age, hair, or my somewhat stable waist.


But if this is the best it ever gets, then life is overall, going to be unsatisfactory. I can already see England going backwards : people are getting poorer, and the rich richer, the unemployed and sick are demonised and bullied, power is being centralised under the lie of competition and “strivers”, we are supposed to trumpet choice – but only have the choice of paying more and getting less, and being paid less. Everyone is trapped and most of us are unhappy with the state of the nation. I'm taxed out of my eyeballs, with fares that go up by several per cent more than inflation every year, and gas, electricity, food, everything getting more expensive. We're meant to sit tight and happy with this, as our spending power shrinks, and we get poorer and poorer every year, as the government subjects the NHS to death by a thousand cuts and reorganisations, and the welfare to a thousand lies, and the world becomes Pennywise but Poundfoolish and stores up disaster for the next administration. Pensions are destroyed and decimated. I can see the future, and it is an ugly place for all but the extremely privileged few.

This government see its role as to represent us, and for us to represent it. And if we do not represent its wishes – wishes biased in favour of the astonishingly wellpaid minority – then we are waster and shirkers. Wealth creators are those that get in the morning and take the kids to school and work two jobs on minimum wage to make ends meet, not the millionaires that perform devious financial sleights of hand. Strivers are those who try to survive life on the pittance that is unemployment benefit whilst feeding themselves, keeping the lights and heat on, and at the same time, are clobbered with the unfair Bedroom Tax that penalises the thousands who live in social housing with one or more extra 'bedrooms', when there aren't – and never were – enough smaller properties : a lack of smaller properties caused directly by a failure of the Government to invest in enough property. The media trumpets about absurd housing benefits, yet is silent on the fact that these housing benefits are the fault of unregulated rents, private landlords charging absurd rates, and the popular media's obsession with unsustainable and unreachably high house prices, where the averagehouse price is over a Quarter Of A Million Pounds. Think that one over : the average house prices is a quarter of a million pounds. No wonder Generation Rent cannot afford a home. All this is a recipe for a bleak future made of angry and underpaid millions that are saddled with debt, and have never been able to own a home, or have children, or have to commute thousands of miles a year to get to work, and who will die in utterly avoidable poverty. Culture and love are tolerated only because it keeps the population quiet(ish), and resistance is generally fought by an combination of oppressive policing, and underpaid overwork designed to keep us all knackered and too exhausted to fight back. The Government sees the only virtue as hard work for companies – hard work for a charity, as seen in the case of Cait O'Reilly – is a waste, and the unemployed are expected to work for free for companies. Companies then don't hire staff because they can get them for free. Staff they do hire are paid low wages. Staff paid low wages cannot afford to buy goods. This is trickle-down economics in its most brutal form. All activity that does not serve the profit line of prosperous companies is frippery and wasteful.

And the Government can now change the law retrospectively to prevent them paying out money to the poorest in society that they lied to.

This is why I am having a mid-life crisis, because we live in the cruellest time in memory, and there is no sign that it is ever going to improve.


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