Yesterday was St Valentine’s Day, an oasis of hope pointing to a forthcoming spring. As I looked out of the bus window I saw an earnest looking young man brandishing a bouquet – a man on a mission wearing a full head of hair and dark designer stubble concealing his pimples. Internally I heard my Dad saying ‘I’m glad I’m past that dangerous age’. These days pollen brings me out in a rash.
Across the pond RFK Jr has been sworn in as the new secretary of the HHS to embark on a programme of national navel gazing to avoid Americans having to look outside. He will have a busy two years but it is very necessary as 60% plus of Americans are too obese to even see their navels. I hope he can do it without resorting to the Chicago mobster approach, once popular at this time of year but if your name is Fauci it would appear that many State AGs would look the other way if nature chose to even the score.
Trump’s apologists are busily finding weasel words to justify Netanyahu’s carnage in Gaza. Donald himself brazenly talks about lasting peace in the area - after the current population have been moved to neighbouring Arab states or planted in their home country – probably under the 15th green.
Today Zelensky is a worried man. He now realises that the gravy train has crashed and that payments on his wife’s credit card sprees in Paris might soon fall due. Some NATO nations are happy to prop up his ego and foment war against Russia by providing armaments to hit deep into foreign soil. Behind the scenes they’re probably plotting his demise. God forbid that monster would ever acquire nuclear weapons to get his revenge in first. His days are numbered.
In the UK handsome young farmers in their wellies have Katie Hopkins in a flutter as she walks among their blockading tractors. I hope and believe these guys have the support of the nation as people gratefully acknowledge them for the food they grow and animals they raise. Even WEF rat Starmer likes to eat. What possible dirt do the puppet masters have on him that he won’t put his own electorate’s interests first?
Beside all this international intrigue, Northern Ireland’s past troubles now look very 20th century. That’s not to say for one moment that they weren’t very real and very painful for those caught up in the events. But now hindsight shows us that the same puppet masters orchestrated the conflict and revelled in the pain they created. Sometimes it would indeed be tempting to pull the duvet over our heads and to distance ourselves from the drama, but another view tells us this is possibly the most exciting era since the formation of the world, and we’ve got ringside seats.
So where was I going on the bus and why did I have a smile on my face? Hope springs eternal; perhaps I’m a dyed in the wool romantic after all 😊
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