Come the moment come the cup cake! Satre knew a thing or two

I am beholding to Jean Paul Sartre for a the bulk of this item. I bring it to your attention with the State of the world under a savage press intrusion that basically means to rise to the top one has to be a bloody good liar or a complete sociapathic narcissist.

The current state of UK politics is a case in point. We have a choice in the fortcomming elections of a Vicars Daughter who thinks its 1952 or a Raving Trotskite who wants to understand and talk to ISIS. Anyway, read this and make your own mind up why the first world will soon not be.

Many pundits have presented the case that society needs to reward the achiever. It is argued that the most talented should attain positions of authority, based upon their superior ability. The end result is the formation of a power structure of Elites – making the decisions, formulating policies and directing the organizations that carry out the plan. It is most difficult to quarrel with the notion that talent is not distributed equally, but it becomes a giant leap to conclude that the very attribute of aptitude, is the sole criteria that justifies positions of authority.
Democracy has failed miserably to ensure a Just society, but so has rule by a cadre of whiz kids. The problem with ALL attempts to design and implement social systems through central planning is that it ignores the dynamics of the market place of individual needs, aspirations and fears. Neither Government nor NGO Institutions have the ability to mold humanity to their conception of paradise. Only the accumulative interaction of countless individual dreams and nightmares, can set the course on this ‘ship of fools’. Mankind, by the nature of its common humanity, is unable to achieve perfection. Those who seek and scheme to be the architects of paragon, and those who lust and plot to be the regents of dominance, possess the same flaws.
‘Meritocracy’ attempts to establish a standard by which motivated crusaders can achieve success. Well, that’s fine and commendable if we could all agree upon the criteria for defining achievement. But society has such a varied view of significance in collective accomplishment, that consensus is virtually impossible.
In addition to this problem, the methods used to demonstrate and constitute access to the reins of power, must be established. However, this seemingly rational approach to test the merits of the prospective leader defy our Nature, when a system of empirical formulas are solely used. The parameters for merit must include the moral basis for behavior. But the proponents of ‘Meritocracy’ accept situations ethics as a substitute for principle. Their faith is founded in the belief that Man is capable of reaching an ideal, that THEY define for all of Mankind. Their rational is simple, who is more qualified to delineate the proper social order, than the members of the ‘Meritocracy’?
This begs the real issue, for the conflict which is inevitable from such reasoning has a dire record, when sincerely reviewed. Even if one disagrees with the conclusion that the chronicle of controlled conduct is replete with corruption and depravity; one can hardly concur that it has been well managed. If those of influence, are really the best and brightest, why are they so unsuccessful in the implementation of their vision?

Again, we need not look very far for the answer. An examination of HOW one becomes part of the ‘Meritocracy’, reveals its ultimate failing. Advancement in the ranks of most organizations requires a conformity, to the culture, of that particular gang of achievers. Bureaucracies invariably place a premium on compliance and congruity to established policy, practice and puissance. Independent initiative is suspect. And individual action is soundly condemned. To the ‘Meritocracy’, conformity is a virtue and autonomy is a vice. Isn’t it obvious that the very entree into the ‘Meritocracy’ requires that one proves their superiority by way of accepting the tenants of the enlightened?
But reality is much different from the myth. The

practice of advancement dictates that ‘Mediocrity’ is the prime and indispensable ingredient, to ensure acceptance. With acceptance comes admittance to the clique. Yes, ‘Meritocracy is the clan of ‘Mediocrity’, and is founded upon the principle of uniformity.
When Ayn Rand argues her ‘Objectivism’ as an alternative moral code for a world that has doubts in a Creator, she attempts to establish the truth that moral conduct is the ultimate standard for individual achievement. The morality of the individual pursuit of happiness, is achieved and justified by the very act of independent accomplishment. But the ‘Meritocrat’ is opposed to her philosophy because it removes the ‘Mediocre’ foundation upon which their power rest. Why is it that so often these protectors of the inferior are Harvard graduates? Might, we not be better served with Crimson drop outs?
The core question rests upon the character of achievement. Is advancement conceived in individual inspiration or does it require the collective allusions of mediocre toadies? Absence of moral authority leaves man equipped to ravage his fellow neighbor; in the name of ever noble objectives, that can be reduced through the accumulated delusions of the geniuses of amorality.
Irrational behavior becomes the norm when, the know it all, is allowed to rise to positions of influence. Those who claim to be the ‘cream of the crop’ are buffoons in the circus of the absurd. If you still doubt that this cannot be true, point out the last independent mind of moral courage, to achieve a position of authority in this gulag of unanimity? No Solzhenitsyn comes to mind!
The solution will not be reached through rational systems, devised by Man. Rand said her guiding inspiration came from a forgotten sage, who said: “I will not die, the world will end”. Too many of the ‘Meritocracy’ similarly accept this falsehood that the world will cease without their wisdom. They are unwilling to acknowledge that they are a mere cog in the plan of an ‘Existential’ reality. Unless one is ready to humble themselves to accept revealed authority, all the pseudo intellectualism from the ‘precocity of phantasm’, will be for naught. Haven’t we all suffered enough under the normality of the chaotic reign of the ‘Meritocracy’? Or are you content to be part of the ‘Mediocrity’?
SARTRE

Hi, hope you lasted the course? Sartre can be hard going, but he covers all the bases of that there is no doubt. I worry greatly that mediocrity will be the death of us all. For life is not equal and fair, neither is it ever going to be inclusive. More worryingly we need leaders and we need leaders who think outside the box and strictures of fascist Liberalism based on PC B/S that believes we can be all made equal.

Cars

What is it about cars. They really do become a part of our everyday life. Member of the family if you will. I was nattering with my youngest daughter and fellow petrol head about the cars of her time with the firm. VDubs seem to figure large in our life. There was Vi the GTI (her favorite) and Micky the Mazda that I loved

They all had their own smell and manner. Rolf the Golf was a superb Carbrio (first pic) that I took a year to rebuild to band new condition before taking it on a long and lovely holiday to the Black Forest and Austria. Its still tucked away in a garage at my ex wife's house. We had many adventures in it and it never missed a beat. Mickey the Mazda was probably my last hooligan car and only recently sold to a young nurse with a good eye for a bargain. The MX5 is without doubt the best little sports car ever made and the most fun one can have with ones trousers still on. My kids loved it and so did the dogs. My Cocker Spaniel standing up with his ears flying, "Doing a Snoopy" and with a massive grin on his face while Bella the girl Spaniel hid in the footwell really summed up the cars appeal. If you have a couple of grand spare and want a really superb car then buy one. I would again in a heat beat.Cheap to run and starts everytime. Sadly missed.

Zoe's favourite without a shadow of doubt was Vi the GTI. Get the CD banging and the engine on song and it flew. One time we managed Dover to Oxford with a cream cake in the back that was still cold when we got home. Superb car and brought for not a lot for the wife who promptly blew up the gear box. I swear that women could kill a car simply by looking at it. However, what VW quoted £2000 to fix my friend and I - after much tea and thinking - fixed for £10 and a hammer. It really was a super car.

The toss up for my favorite car has to be the ex Frau's Honda CRX (Tinka) and a MG Midget called Tonka. The Honda Crx naturally she blew the engine and nearly got enough speed tickets to get a ban. But she loved it dearly and it has to be said it was a very sexy little car was Tinka and much missed. Indeed, it was  really the pocket rocket that we should have kept. I think that car was the car she most loved and as a two plus two just the thing for a yummy mummy to race around in.

Tonka on the other hand was a saga worthy of a short book. It was brought because the ex wanted a british sports car and its a good reason never to let women loose in the Auto Trader. Even the trip to see the car was a saga. Zoe (then 8 months old) got caught short and had to held out the window in a traffic jam on the M25 to have a wee. When we got there I knew all was lost when the owner opened the garage door and Lisa said "Ohh I love it". Well, at least £200 was added to the price I now had to pay and the backfiring and noises the thing made on the way back meant I was going to be busy rebuilding the engine and most everything else. But it did make a nice wee car and much fun she had in it. And bless her the wife pitched in and I will not forget in a hurry watching her sat on the front room carpet T cutting the bonnet while watching the TV. I bet she would not do that now!

Typical of all English Sports cars it had its moments. Including breaking down on the M40 one morning in the rush hour. The resulting tow back to our house included a fast passage on the A43 that reached a rop speed of 60 mph. Now I wouldnt mind but I was in the broken down car and being pulled by a mad women on a 10 foot rope! Zoe stood in the back window of the tow car waving back at me, waving at her to slow down!

Yes we had a few cars and more than a few classics. I dont think I ever made a profit but they did look nice. Including Dobby the Elf.

Dobby took two years to restore and was a cow from the start. Made a nice car in the end, but I will never restore another and feel sorry for anyone who wants to do a mini. They rust if left on grass over night. Bloody awful car to work on.

Of all the cars I owned I think two are worthy of note now and both are Italian. I restored a Fiat 850 Spider for my first wife and it really was a super little car and much loved.

I think it holds the record for the most Italians you can get in a two door coup. 7! and the best one liner by a woman driver when I asked why there was no pads in the front brake she replied. "Ohh I wondered where that noise was coming from".Its no wonder my nick name was "Spanners".

However, if you pushed me to choose a favourite it has to be my old Alfa Romeo GTV. I really did love that car and I think kept it for a good six years. It did sound nice and flew around the auto routes of Europe and Cyprus. My Father and I brought it one day after a few pints in Nottingham. I have to admit the wife at first was not that happy with the cost, but melted a bit when I took her up the M1 at over the 100 MPH mark in the early morning sun. "My God it flies" was her first words. It was also famous for making my dreaded sister in law sick. I took my brother and his......................erm............................wife! out for a spin and gave it the beans. Remarkable how green she became in my rear view mirror the faster I we went.

Alf also nearly became a coffin when over taking a truck full of grapes on a very dodgy mountain road in Cyprus. But, by far its greatest feat was in Northern Cyprus when they closed the border with the Greek half and we had to get back to the check point fast before we became "guests" of the Turkish Police. I would just like to thank the Derbyshire Police for teaching me to drive and Alfa Romeo for making the car that got us back to that check point with seconds to spare. We were never so pleased to see a Royal Fusilier with his feathers in his cap.Indeed, Rita gave him the biggest hug of his life.

I suppose ones first car is the one we most think of and mine was a little VW beetle called Lizzie. RPE 617 E was the reg and it puttered me around for a few years of happy motoring without much misshap. One bonds with a car and I did with Liz on the 3 years courting involving many a journey back and forth from Oxford to Nottingham. But one night I recall clearly for it snowed very heavily and only Liz and I ventured forth to tootle down the M1 and then A5 with the snow getting thicker and the window wipers going slower and the vision getting smaller by the mile. By the time I got to Brackley in Northants I was doing 10 mph and stopping every couple of miles to clear the windscreen. But Liz never coughed once and got me back to base at very early O'clock of the morning.

I have had a few clapped out monsters  mind you. A Ford Escort Mk1 was probably the worst. The engine stopped if you put the indicators on. And a Triumph Spitfire that I discovered had been repaired with bread when I found a bird pecking at the rear wheel arch! But, you live and learn.

Now of course cars are much cheaper than they were and much better built than they were. However, harder to fix and not so much fun for the kids. Now I have Poly the Polo and that does me to get around. A real old Granddad car, with its 3 cylinder 1.4 engine it does me. Indeed, I just drove to Hamburg and back in it. Slow, but we got there. Mind you, when you think about it the first time I drove with my Dad from Hamburg to UK was in 1963 and in one of these!

The winter of 63 was the worst on record and my God it was long and cold. My Mother was having kittens being too far from her Mother and decided we had to go home to Nottingham for Christmas. How we even managed to get from Germany to the Hook of Holland Ill never know. But the journey from Harwich to the Nottingham up the old A1 was a very long and bitterly cold nighmare. The heater was an optional extra (I kid you not) on the Oxford and ours gave out as much heat as a night light. Wrapped in blankets we shivered with Dad driving really superbly through a blizzard with those skinny old cross ply tyres scrabbling for traction. Dead cars and lorries littered the Great North Road and boy were we glad to get to Nottingham for naturally what turned out to be a totally crap Christmas. Where Mum and Gran just argued mostly. Then the horror of having to retrace our route in even worse weather back to Germany. I think I share something with my Dad here. We both picked women who would not let go of their Mothers appron strings to our cost. But that as they say is another story and perhaps for another time.

Happy motoring in the meantime.

Election Fatigue

Following so close to the Referendum from hell this election for the post of PM is doing my head in. I cannot abide the news coverage yarping on about whose manifesto is manifestly wrong, or what clown said what about HS2 taking away food from babies mouths. It all goes on far too long and along with half the population im getting Pre Traumatic Election Stress. I just wish it would all sod off for a bit to be honest!

Yesterdays P.M. on Radio Four with Eddie having a pop at some poor labourite gobshite had me actually feeling sorry for comrade Gobshite. I mean who would know how much a HB pencil costs a primary school? Thats the problem I guess. Its the ferile media looking for the most obscure question to trip up the bovine arse who is just going to sit there and vomit the party line until his/her five mins is up and they rejoing the studio merry go around.

I just wish someone would ask a fun question to break the total bordom that comes over me when the news comse on. Something like:

1. Have you now or ever been a member of the Tufty Club?
2. Why do 24 hour supermarkets have locks on the door?
3. Why did Kamakazi Pilots wear helmets?
4. Have you ever taken a pee in a pub car park or doorway?
5. Whats the most stupid thing you ever did?
6. Have you ever imagined a world with no hypothetical situations?
7. How do you know if honesty is the best policy unless you've tried some of the others?
8. Why is it that when you're driving and looking for an address, you turn down the volume on the radio?
9.  You know that little indestructible black box that is used on planes? Why can't they make the whole plane out of the same substance?
10.  Is an oxymoron a really dumb bovine?

Its also the quandry im in betwix my head and my heart. I am a good socialist at heart. Mum and Dad both working class. Granddad a Miner and I sided with the Miners (even though a copper) in the strike. But and its a big but, Corbyn just dont impress me much. Polarise going to sea with no missiles and in negotiations for Brexit I just dont think he would have the backing of his own party , or the capacity for bringing home the bacon  in the divorce negotiations. And the rest of the Labour Party is up its own arse trying to sort itself out and may well split after the election.

BUT

I hate the Tories and the thought of yet more food banks and the NHS in crisis, poot being flogged and sent to Australia again, children up chimneys is just as bad. SOOOO what do I do????

Well, I guess there is still time, but this time I will be jumping from one foot to the other when it comes time to put the x in the box. Ill let you know how it goes.