Today I am feeling it. There's an annoying feature in Blogger where the cursor, at the start of writing, is one character further to the right than it should be. I can't work out why and every time I write I have to delete that space, otherwise the paragraphs aren't uniform. It bugs the shit out of me. It's like an itch you can't scratch. Like when carpet patterns don't align correctly. I've been that way for years. When I was a kid I used to gaze into them like the Penguin's umbrella. Phenomena like this would have me equal parts transfixed and frustrated. Something wrong with the world that I cannot fix. This is why I believe myself to be on the spectrum. Sadly I am alone in that.
It is another grey day in Winter. One of many; we aren't even half way through January. The pandemic is like a slow weaving tapestry unfolding all around. Our government will never get a grip on things, we are doomed to remain in holding patterns for a very long time. It's like having an itch you cannot scratch; or a carpet pattern you cannot unsee.
The best thing this government could have done, assuming this was ever more than rumour, would have been to cough up that £500 'free' money to everyone. I have no idea if Sunak ever considered it. Unlikely, as he's a filthy rich banker whose entire worldview depends on people not getting used to such things. By people I mean the rest of us, of course. Go out, spend it in the click and collect economy. Spend it at Amazon, from whom the government will collect no tax thus rendering the entire exercise pointless. At least you can get something you like to help pass the time.
And.
We're back to starving kids. For the third time. These bastards have to be dragged kicking and screaming for a third time. There really is nothing more to say at this point. This is how they are. It will never change. These people are just evil; giving a contract to provide food for vulenrable kids, during a pandemic, to donors is one thing. Letting them pocket the vast majority of that contract and using as little as possible to provide a sorry platter of half wilted, near the knuckle, muck is dehumanising and degrading. I could rage for hours about this, but today I'm tired. I'm just not surprised at any of this and you can bet your bottom dollar this won't be the last you hear of this. I could also say that every Tory should hang their heads in shame, but what would be the point.
There must be an accounting though, at some point.
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