We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Some reheated links at Thompson highlighted Vanessa Eagle's documentary series Lefties, which is about the effort to create a Leninist Sunday tabloid in London, and their quixotic effort to topple the great Maggie Thatcher.
If you have a few spare minutes, give the video a look. It's about newspapers, sort of.
Nothing will surprise you about their failure to recognize the realities of life and the demands of high functioning and accomplishment, but it's still a fascinating record. It's sort of like "We're All Bozos On This Bus," or a Monty Python skit. The bits about "caring about the environment" are especially poignant from folks who have probably never hoed a garden, mucked out a stall, or gotten lost in the Maine woods or spent a week camping in the Montana wilderness.
These bozos should have started a blog. That might have worked, but this was the pre-blog era.
They missed the first rule, which is to pretend you are not a leftist.
Assistant Village Idiot
The Lefties film is organised into bite-size sections here.
There’s also a companion piece with extracts from the series Tory! Tory! Tory!, which traces the history and ideas behind Thatcherism - and shows how Britain was transformed, painfully. If Lefties is about the fantasy of socialism, Tory! Tory! Tory! is about the grim reality of it, with power cuts, class warriors and unburied dead.
Heh! I got lost in the Maine woods once upon a time. Near Bryant Pond. Nice place, at least those many years ago. Mighta gone to heck for all I know now.
They had, to the best of my limited knowledge, the very last privately owned phone network in the lower 48. Crank telephones, pluggie switchboard thingie, operator who could listen to anyone's calls as she pleased, the number and pattern of rings told you if the call was for you or your neighbor. Quaint!