Halloween

Halloween
Back in the seventies, when I was a child, we would celebrate Christmas just as people today celebrate Halloween. The resurgence of paganism in replacing Christianity sees our nation go full circle. Indeed Christmas, that celebration of the birth of an illegitimate Jew was transported from the Middle East, the nation we now know as Isil, to replace our native pagan festivity, the winter solstice. It seems quaint to think back on how we celebrated the birth of a great Jewish political philosopher who's message was anti materialist and his aim to spread a poverty cult to avert man kinds growing cultural illness. Our Christian nation would celebrate the birth of the one who told us material goods and amassing wealth precluded entry to heaven. In truth, material excess precluded our species retaining the heaven we were born into. Since 1970 half of the planets species have been wiped out. We celebrated by holding an orgy of consumption, a celebration of greed. To hear christs message and turn it into Christmas must have been worse than being crucified for the poor fella. His message to what I will refer to as the communicated western civilisation, mankind is far broader, isolated tribes not corrupted by the materialism we aspire to still exist. Some tribes have yet to meet up with modern man and hopefully never will. Our species depend on these isolated communities, evolutionary equals yet far ahead of our consumer centric ideals, to continue Homo sapiens after our greedy sort have all died. For we will. Just as any animal that over populates its environment, pestilence will come. I see the clean clothed, polished shoes, haircut, car driving work addicts as miximatosis infected rabbits. As the rabbit goes blind so too has our man, or many of us, blind to the acceptance that half the planets species have been wiped out since the 1970s where I got my Christmas presents. That thought alone should shock any sane man or woman into abandoning their car, their job, slow down their consumption to an acceptable level. But most don't. A few brave individuals choose not to work or to work in ways that do not make unnecessary goods or use resources. Half the worlds species since I got my Slade and Gary Glitter singles, my action men, hungered for scalextric. The celebration of waste oppitomises the miximatosis. It would have been insanity for me to not finally wake up to my own mental illness. So enthralled by looking sideways at what others were doing I grew to think it acceptable to make luxury products for the super rich. Having abandoned my work I can only hope that in my remaining years I can go some way to atone for my mistakes. In my defence I was never rich. I fell into woodwork with innocence. The belief that a doorway that barely gets noticed but is used by generation after generation was as important as art. I began here yet somewhere I became corrupted. My trade, a service to the community became an exersize in vanity. I studied at Shrewsbury then high Wycombe and fell under the spell of the furniture designer makers. They had taken the working class trade, that service to the community, and corrupted it with their ego. The middle class man cannot serve the community, he must extend his self. He must sign his work. Working class trade was built on the shoulders of many men and preserved its dignity through anonymity, anonymity is anathema to the middle class craftsman. He must design objects, not to perform the needs of the community but to express his own vision of beauty. I fell in with these corrupt perverts. Being born to a middle class mother and a working class father with strict conservative values, I grew up a half breed. Never knowing what I was or where I fitted in. It provided me with a position from where to see the follies of the working class in their proud elevation of the stupid, as seen in joey Essex, 'swallowed a dictionary,' I would be taunted as a child if using long words, acting above my station, giving it the Charlie big potatoes. Though I could see the cringeworthy actions of the middle class, a class in motion, in upward mobility, displaying their seperation from the lower classes from where they had escaped through secret signs, language tricks, lavatory not toilet, Jamie Oliver cook books, chintz and designer clothes and furniture.
Through digital technology the designer makers of fine furniture linked up, formed a group and had an online forum. Now sealed off their perversion could grow unhindered by the passing observer. There was no one their to tell us. We had sealed the doors. No small boy could enter to shout, 'the emperor wears no clothes,' But I had sneaked in. Unnoticed my accent hidden by internet anonymity. I could have been black even. There is not a single black man on the corrupt forum. And I chose to tell them they were wrong. But few listened. That engrossed in self congratulation were they, they thought me a madman. Only through the sealed online communities can perversion grow and become deemed normal. Paedophiles were free of the irritating people who told them their desires were evil. Together with no outsiders to moderate they could discuss their hunger undisturbed. So it was true for the designer makers also.
I do think back nostalgically to those seventies Christmases we celebrated with a metaphorical reenactment of the crucifixion of Christ by celebrating his philosophy of modesty, meagre consumption and living in poverty with an orgy of greed, money, consumption of rich foods and rejecting the community to hide away in nuclear families, enjoying the money we had taken. Because, no wealth comes in purity. Every penny spent on unnecessary delights is the murder of a child in Syria or Africa.


Sent from my iPad