It's not too late to vote

But it might be the last chance you ever have. The Conservatives Johnson's wannabe SA clones are already threatening to pull Channel 4's broadcast licence, because they can't stand dissent against their new 'fuhrer', after the channel refused to kowtow to the party over a climate change debate. And that's before the election. The 'sheeple' won't realise the implications, even if they cared, until it's too late. Read (and understand) Nineteen Eighty-Four, if it's new to you, because you might never get the chance again, if some elements of 'the forces of reaction' get their way. And if you're smug enough to think 'it won't happen here', see what happens in November 2020 if Trump loses the next presidential election.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Mortality

For no particular reason, beyond a few documentaries I've watched recently and a family this afternoon who were fairly obviously in the pub after they'd been to a funeral, black ties et al, I've been considered my own mortality. It's not that I'm expecting to keel over imminently - my health, for the most part, is no worse than it was two years ago, apart from the fact that I can't speak and write in a way that I would want - but there's little doubt, barring accidents, that I'm the next member of my family who will be pushing up the daisies. If I could write my own obituary, what would I say? If was being honest, I've wasted my chance, or chances - I haven't used my intellectual abilities to best advantage, however I might want to claim that I my choices were determined by working in an industry I enjoyed, mostly, I haven't looked after my health properly, especially in terms of my use of alcohol (I'm blogging in the pub, FFS), but, most of all, I haven't been myself, for the last 45 years and more. I could say I'm bisexual, but, realistically, I've always been more interested, by 70/30, even 80/20, in boys rather than girls. And boys, specifically predominantly pubescent boys, have been my downfall, my joy (albeit I've never had a boy of my own) and my despair. When the curtain falls, if I'm lucky (or unlucky) to reflect on my life consciously, I know that there will be a huge hole in my heart where a boy should have been.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Wreckers

I've long expressed my disdain, if not outright contempt, for politicians, but the current 'Brexit election' has surpassed even my worst expectations. The Johnson/Farage axis of selfishness, greed and opportunism seems to be steamrolling all comers - aided and abetting by the racist and xenophobic English (and I use the word English, as opposed to British, advisedly) 'sheeple' - while the opposition parties seem to be completely incapable of resistance. It's as though people want to be vassals to the '1%', and their fellow travellers. Well, careful what you wish for. You'll be Orwell's 'proles' before you know it.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Maybe it's time

Blogging was a big thing for me, especially in the first half of the present decade. I 'met', as it were, some special people (and a few bad apples, too, sadly), worked out (belatedly) who and what I am, had my life completely trashed, admittedly by my own hand, largely, and then suffered the coup de grace courtesy of my health, or lack of it. As a result, I've only committed a few dozen posts to the cyberspace ocean in the last two years or so. I would like to be more active now, though, but whether it could be feasible is another issue. I hope I can post something, if not daily, but at least a few days each week. The posts would be short, generally, given that it's still a strain to write fluently - this paragraph has taken nearly an hour - but I believe the effort will be worth it. No promises, particularly to myself, but I'm going to try.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B