No pasaran

How many times can you repeat the same basic facts before they penetrate

To the same people.  Teachers may think they recognize the problem but they have a different batch of students each year.

Oh look, look, aren’t they the most important of the importantest of the very very important ones, ooh, they’re so important, and they know everything.  Of course unlike the rest of us, they’ve never had to learn it first.  There are huge areas of the human experience about which I know exactly nothing or almost nothing bar O Level. how a fridge works, electronics, chemistry,  medicine.  This is of course distinct from the capacity to learn.  If I ever had the urge, I am quite sure I could learn how my fridge works.   I don’t think I know how to treat scleroderma, lymphoma or even tennis elbow.  There are no normal circumstances in which I should ever have to try to learn but I suppose in the aftermath of nuclear or other devastation in which all cities had been flattened, in the extremely unlikely event – an event so unlikely that it makes being picked up by the Heart of Gold probable – that there were just me, someone developing scleroderma and my copy of Systemic Sclerosis, a work I proof-read and edited, not wrote, and which is of course now very out of date, I could have a go.  I digress…

So you will gather correctly that I didn’t land in Medicine and start telling them how to practise it.  I did tell them they were bloody illiterate.  There does happen to be something about which I know a great deal: language. 

The Great University Education Scam
By the time there's no need to be literate, no need to be able to ratiocinate, no need to know anything at all outside narrow subject boundaries, no requirement to want to think, no need to be able to select and order data, no requirement to be able to construct arguments or analyse existing arguments, no need to be able to step outside a given frame of reference and question its foundations, no need for any intellectual skills at all, of course anyone can get a 'degree'. Honestly, I just want everyone to know I understand.

These etchings of mine have not come about due to the discovery of doctors and biologists who cannot write cogently about reality, rationality or Racine but by the discovery of doctors and biologists who cannot write cogently about medicine and biology. The biological sciences are really going to benefit from a generation of ’researchers’ so fur-brained they can’t describe their first researches. How can you identify unanswered questions if you cannot think? Welcome to the world of those from whom clarity of thought is absent.

What the educational establishment is going to explain is this: No more than half a dozen pages are required – what you did, why you did it, how you did it, what the results were and what those results might mean: Blendit’s syndrome is a rare disease of the connective tissue, causing severe debilitation, especially in women of child-bearing age (1). Laggie et al (2) have shown that some 80% of sufferers in this group have a defect in the ability to produce the growth factor chronine. Chronine reacts with the hormone condosit in the production of healthy tissue (3, 4). Condosit is produced by the ovaries during the luteal peak (5). Silofome Z has been shown to stimulate the production of chronine in vitro... It is really isn’t very difficult, especially if you’ve been doing the work for the last two years. Of course you do have to have something resembling a mind. She approached the keyboard cautiously. Intraduction (was that how you spelled it?) My name is Susan and I am a doctor. No, that wasn’t what she’d seen in the journals.

We are talking (repetitively) of the inability to select and order data, of the inability to question and analyse given propositions, to stand outside a given frame of reference and question its foundations. It does not matter here whether we are talking of oncology or Origen. We are talking specifically of how it does not take everyone six months to produce half a dozen pages. Some of us, indeed, in our spare time, can put together in a couple of years the material for some 20 or 30 reasonably original contributions to thought. We are talking about the marked absence of any intellect whatever. Cannot write simple descriptive essays. The short word for this is stupid. Any undergraduate in the Faculty of Arts of a real university could knock off such a paper in his or her sleep, but then of course arts undergraduates do deal with original material, are expected to be able to sift Kant or Chaucer, are not spoon-fed from potted versions and summaries, are expected to digest vast amounts of reading and select from their reading. Note also that this inability is not an inability to write the original research grant, of which some junior doctors and scientists are equally incapable. It is an inability to describe what they fuck they have been doing with the grant money for the last two or three years.
 
They weren’t fucking ‘aving it, right. 

Of course I laugh.  Laugh in their vacant evil stupid faces.

And I laugh because the world is full of books to read and things to find out about, infinitely more than any one human being can manage in a lifetime, and they are so ludicrous that they think they have nothing to learn.  Nothing outside the garbled drivel in their heads, their fuck-up beliefs and their loony conviction of their own perfection exists.

And I laugh because there is one form of ‘medicine’ at which I am very good.  I should long since have bled to death from internal wounds but I staunch the flow, knit the tissues, heal the cuts, because I make me and that they can never understand.

And I laugh because these obscene filthy brutes who have pawed and mauled me, smeared their dirty animal selves indelibly over my body and my life are irrelevant to me.

And I laugh because my life is a huge mad joke.  All I ever wanted to do was write and go for excessively long walks in wild places but I had to earn a living and so fell through a black hole into a parallel universe of the raving mad who have broken my body, raped my mind and wrecked the remainder of my life, a world divorced from reality in which truth and good are the drivellings of the ape with the biggest club, in which everything independent of the dribblings of some authority figure with a club is dismissed out of hand, in which language is treated with contempt and force, power, violence are all, all fact, reason, decency, sanity are jeered at and regarded as a joke, where people regard themselves as slaves, owned, to do only what they are permitted by the mad, are damaged nutters who think it wrong to doubt and question the words of authority, independent thought is regarded as evil and independent action is inconceivable to them,  really think the ravings of a mindless animal set the boundaries of my knowledge, my thought, my life,  a woman’s body is simply a punchbag for inadequates and a woman’s mind is a joke, and that there is universal agreement the world of the criminal and the psychopath, of the Broadmoor patient, be regarded as normality.

And I laugh because these perverted deformities really expect me to see myself as a slave, property, who has sinned, transgressed, said and done things Master does not permit, functioned independently of her lord, been self-willed, disobedient, and of course a freak who does not accept Master’s right to punish her.

Yeah, I have a mind of my own and know how to use it.

And I laugh because they think so very much of themselves and have not the smallest intellectual virtues, contemptuous of fact, unable to learn, unable to reason, to construct argument, to research fact.

And I laugh because like Dill I combine my father’s rationalism with a profound esotericism; unlike Gandalf I have not met a Balrog.  I have met so many fucking Balrogs that it’s funny, nearly as funny as the entire political class intoning, O great Balrogs, you alone we worship, you alone we adore, there is no truth beside you, there is no good beside you, you alone are our meaning and our source.  Sustain us, great Balrogs, fill us with your truth and might, that we may do your will.

Because they sure as fuck don’t do anything else.

And of course, great Balrogs, we thank you for the bounty you send.  It sees the kids through school and uni very nicely.

And I laugh because Medicine, the University, Government, politics, everything has become a sick joke. See them press themselves ever further into the ground, yearning to please, for the Balrogs have to be fed.  Feed them everything, all fact, all reason, all light, all life.  The Balrogs are not to be upset, disquieted, perturbed.  Of course no demands may be made of them.  That would be absurd, the slaves making demands of their masters. Since the Balrogs are without flaw and of course omniscient, the idea of correcting them or educating them is absurd and impossible.

So they threw the Balrogs my medically vulnerable body, without a qualm or backward glance.

And so I  hobble about covered in little homunculi, Abraham, O’Mahony,Wilson, Sturridge, Black, Linch, Blair, Goldstone, Milburn, Naylor, Plucinski, Saunders, Rowley, McGuckin, Ardeshna, Whelan wrapped around my torso and legs, forever with me forcing their filthy animal selves on me. 

​And I laugh because they are so ludicrous.  Really, you think crawling over my body leaving nasty itchy red blotches convinces me of your veracity and probity?

And I laugh because I still don’t give a fuck.

I did the good little bourgeois things.  I am not even sure I can be said to have broken the law.  Law has to exist in order to be broken and when Government and security service alike are standing back to give animals a free hand with your medically vulnerable body, when all fact and reason are ignored, dismissed as though non-existent, there is no rule of law. 

Again, just read the fucking manual:

Communists make no mechanical division between legality and illegality under the conditions of bourgeois rule. They are not opposites, but different moments in the development of the class struggle.Democratic rights under capitalism are not granted by the generosity of the ruling class. Nor are they inherent in the system. They have been won by struggle in the face of fierce opposition by generation after generation of working people.Draft Programme of the CPGB    Or was about ten years ago.

Oh how many of their silly laws have I broken, laws made by traitors for slaves.    OK, I did the good little bourgeois stuff.  So you expected me to continue behaving like a nervous little law-abiding bourgeoise, did you, in the face of your total criminality?  You wanted ‘no rules’, fuckers, you got ‘no rules’.  I like to think it wrong-footed them.  I was of course already raw from what happened at the Royal Free, to which you will recall my reaction was that of Fiver in the Death Warren.  People of my background do not I think make a habit of running to MI5, even if it’s only to say, “Hazel, Hazel, they’re the wrong kind of snow.” Indeed I have little doubt the version of those events and of me that is standard form is that propagated by Professor Dame Bellatrix and any fact I disseminate is regarded as lies since it fails to agree, checking verifiable fact being beyond the ability of the assembled company.    Oh, I really mean it, Bellatrix, I surely do.   

Do they fancy themselves the Hard Left, the criminal trash, Jackson, Lenz, Hughes?  Oh, how funny.

I can actually be polite to my political enemies?  Well, I could, not sure if I can.  When you’ve said something a couple of thousand times to no response whatever, pretty well what’s left to say is, “Oh just get fucked, you ludicrous vile little animal.”     

And so we have a new Nazi-Soviet Pact and those who would have been at home in the Waffen SS raise the red flag. What my parents and grand-parents would have wanted me to do? No, it's what my parents and grand-parents would have assumed I'd do.   

The facts are, tedious and boring though it is, the facts. I am who I say I am, related and otherwise connected to those to whom I say I am, with a medical history that is as I say it is and a CV that contains what I say it contains.There was a era in history called the Enlightenment. There is a body of thought called Marxism. There was an English Civil War. There was a revolution in France which began in 1789 and an American Declaration of Independence.There was even a revolution in Russia. That there are many many bodies of thought in the world, the contents of some of which are directly opposite to the contents of others, is also fact. That people disseminate ideas in books is fact, as are the invention of printing and the institution of compulsory education, enabling people in the free world to imbibe a variety of ideas.I have discoursed largely upon reality, about those things which can't be changed, among which of course is me. There is absolutely nothing anyone can do to stop me being the daughter of Barrington Stockwell Howard and Kathleen Constance Palmer. They cannot make it that I did not graduate from Bedford College, University of London. They cannot make Bedford other than it was. There is a street-lamp outside my window. Certainly it can be removed but it cannot cease to exist because someone insists it isn't there. What has happened has happened. You can wish it hadn't happened. You can seek its causes. You can work towards its not being repeated. You cannot alter the fact of its having happened You can of course also feel bloody pissed-off with those who insist a bad thing is good.I am of course an inner and eso kind of gal, in fact most precisely, like Dill, I combine my father's rationalism with a profound esotericism; equally of course I am human and living in the world, in consequence of which I have - explored my outer and exo aspects, aka my politics, my heritage. I was content to express my exoteric through long walks in touch with nature and through creative writing. Naturally everyone has views but mine are rather unexceptionable among normal civilized educated people. I ceased to be among such people and indeed the country ceased to be governed by such people. The lunatics have taken over the asylum. Surrounded by Newspeak, oh indeed telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act.

It happens that I am the product of four revolutions,, Marxism, the Enlightenment,feminism and the discovery of Eastern religion and spirituality in the Sixties, and of course I am a product of Anglican England. Unfortunately I'm not gay; if I were I should embody everything the Vatican hates. Four out of five is pretty good.  http://www.dillsplace.com/exo-eso-balance-balrogs-et-le-parti-communiste-francais-1939-1945.html   

So: you can infuriate and indeed distress me beyond belief; you can create an infrastructure composed of gross lies; you have of course, being the beyond pathetic filthy animals you are, wrought physical changes to my body – indeed your method of fighting shows beyond doubt what trash you are, mindless vermin who think they convince me of anything by assaulting me.  But you cannot change a single external verifiable fact.  Yea, the Moving Finger writes and having writ…Nor all your  Piety not your wit because you have none can cancel out a word of it.    You cannot counter me with argument because your logic is flawed and your so-called facts are lies.  Therefore you conduct yourselves as the mad ape has conducted itself throughout history.  But you have not changed and cannot change a single external verifiable fact.    History has overthrown you and it is of course grotesque, evil, treason, beyond obscene, etc, etc, etc, that you should have been given free rein to break my body and derail my life.  And you caper in triumph but you have not changed and cannot change a single external verifiable fact.  You alter nothing, neither the solstice gatherings at Stonehenge, nor the success of Led Zep, nor the numerous pagan, secularist and humanist gatherings held in Brighton.  You do not for that matter alter that when my mum was 7, which was 1927, she was given a book called Gods and Heroes full of Greek and  Roman myths (cleaned up) as a prize for something or other; you do not alter that anyone not wholly at ease with the gods and goddesses of the classical world, part of the mental furniture, is a total loon.  You could start with the C17th French playwrights Racine and Corneille, who made their living rendering classical stories in alexandrins.  You do not for that matter  eliminate Cream’s Tales of Brave Ulysses or The Herd’s From the Underworld.You do not make cease to exist the Brighton Buddhist Centre or the weekly Tai Chi in the Park session or the Brighton Naturist Beach.  You do not eradicate millions of people who happily have sexual relations without the need of marriage and do not possess your grotesque primitive neuroses about virginity and millions more who do not possess your  grotesque primitive neuroses concerning the human body.  Yup, it’s where ‘I’ lives.  I used to be quite proud of it, but it’s a bit ravaged now.  The stuff on the outside is called skin.  Everyone has it.  There are three reasons for covering it up: skin cancer in summer, frostbite in winter and it’s reached the stage where it’s not pretty.  Think I’ll give that naturist beach a miss.  .   

You do not of course eradicate millions of books and Webpages and libraries containing matter offensive to or hostile to your ridiculous beliefs, by no means least acres of science.    It would seem to me that you honed in on me as a freak because you are some kind of psychiatric case who lives in a hole in the ground and had never previously come across someone like me. You then managed to convince others that I was some kind of freak and of course others have their own agendas for wishing my destruction, not least hatred of my dissecting intelligence, which is not of course to be permitted in a female body.    You cannot eradicate the human mind, questioning intelligence, though of course your filthy kind, from the Inquisition to the gulags to the Killing Fields has never done anything else.  Good to know Labour are fully on the case for you, second to none in their enthusiasm for the destruction of human intelligence, with no sign of let-up any time soon.   I understand perfectly that the intelligent are hunted.  We offend morons like you.  Morons do not exist in the Labour lexicon, especially not if they wear green robes, turbans, black robes or surplices, cloaks and neckbands, and you are of course essentially stupid.   

AUTHORITY  Wretched human beings, whether you wear green robes, turbans, black robes or surplices, cloaks and neckbands, never seek to use authority where there is question only of reason, or consent to be scoffed at throughout the centuries as the most impertinent of all men, and to suffer public hatred as the most unjust.  A hundred times has one spoken to you of the insolent absurdity with which you condemned Galileo, and I speak to you for the hundred and first, and I hope you will keep the anniversary of it for ever; I desire that there be graved on the door of your Holy Office:  "Here seven cardinals, assisted by minor brethren, had the master of thought in Italy thrown into prison at the age of seventy; made him fast on bread and water because he instructed the human race, and because they were ignorant."  Voltaire: Dictionnaire philosophique.  Not my translation.   

Nonetheless my supposed freakiness is part of the warp and weft of the nation; only major social cataclysm can uproot it all,      So you all look even filthier and more stupid than you do already.  Tards, if you’re going to screw over every individual of whom you disapprove in 20 year stints, I guess it’ll only take you several million years but you really have convinced them I am to be disposed of, haven’t you.   

And I laugh because all they have proved is they are filth, a sick joke.
 
And I laugh because of the sheer irrevocable evil that lies in the refusal to verify the verifiable.  Some obvious sick-boy psycho pervert violent thug crawled into UCH and demanded I be crippled and destroyed, a sly twisted slimy coward who hasn't got the balls to talk to me or to speak in public and is therefore obviously lying.   Nobody asked me to explain what the fuck the nut-job was drivelling about. Every fact of history is not only verifiable but known to those who are even reasonably educated, every fact about today is verifiable, every fact about me.  There exist things called public records.   But this nut-job insists I'm lying and they immediately accord with it. 

What the universal refusal to publicly establish and adhere to the verifiable facts tells me is of course that determination to have the country governed by sick-boy psycho pervert violent thugs who have no use for language or reason or ethics or fact, the criminally insane who live in an impenetrable morass between their ears, is universal.  Nothing may be permitted to counter it.  Instead I am forever to be depicted as a mad ridiculous stupid little girl who is making everything up. 

A typical member of the staff at UCH:

You are ridiculous.  You are ludicrous.  You are absurd.  You are a joke. And of course you are criminally insane, but that doesn't stop you being a joke, flaccid slimy blood-stained strings of farce.  Being incapable of absorbing the simplest fact, being impervious to reason, being devoid of intellect and ethics, you have failed to get the message:

Oh, and another picture of the Howard lion.  He really really doesn't like you.  As I'm sure I've said, really go for it, vermin: sue me for being a Howard.  The number of people who would find it irresistible to join in is utterly delectable: Norfolk, Suffolk and Berkshire, Effingham...

I name you the Duke of Plaza-Toro
Well, hi, Sar-fenan You probably find them as contemptible as I do.  Oooh, aren’t they ever so humble, sweetly submissive?   Cabinet Ministers, professors, aren't they sweet and meek, they wouldn't dream of not bowing down before you. Obviously any approach other than cowering in awe of your power is inflammatory and offensive and dear me, no, they would not wish to be inflammatory or offend and how unthinkably gross, how utterly unacceptable,  not to throw you freedom, throw you democracy, throw you my body, throw you England. 

I think I name you the Duke of Plaza-Toro.  I could of course be well off target there, but I think so; in other words a Spanish grandee, possibly one whose family suffered at the hands of the International Brigades, of which my Uncle Richard was of course a part.  Wayback, there were also strands pointing towards the Spanish-speaking world: Wilson and Kelly/Opus Dei.

I think this is personal, bizarrely of course since I have to my knowledge met neither you nor anyone who might be you.  However, let us tick the boxes: Marxist, feminist, libertarian, mystically inclined, English, student of Voltaire.

You could of course be a Muslim but on the whole I think not.  I think it less likely that a Muslim would grasp I embody (almost) everything that opposes him; I'm not gay but six out of seven is pretty good.  I think you call yourself a Catholic and may indeed be high in the favour of Dark Lord, but since you regard love as repulsive and absurd it is simpler to call you by your real name: Nazi.

Of course you could have that background and have converted to Islam.

I think that being mad you think of me as the Jew whore and that your reaction to all this is something along the lines of the Jew whore whining about money again?  Let it turn a trick. 

I think you are a piece of infected shit on the sole of my boot.  You do of course belong in an asylum.  Wealth and position protect you.

Judging by the unspeakable enthusiasm of the grovellers for grovelling, I think that protection may stretch to the Spanish court, the British court and the Vatican. 

I think you are grotesquely sexually sick, incapable of seeing a woman as a human being.  Well, after all, you're not a human being.  Why should a woman be one?

I do not think Elizabeth II destroys an Englishwoman at the behest of a foreigner.  Her two rather unlovely elder sons may be a different story; indeed you may be one of her two unlovely elder sons (somehow I don't think Edward, could be wrong), neither of whom has any reputation as a democrat or a feminist. For choice I think the fat one with the dodgy friends, though you could of course be the other one who wants to be Defender of All Faiths.  

I am of course also mindful of Edward VIII and the possibility there are rotten fruit in that tree.

But I do not think either of them would be seized by personal malice against me and I think you are. 

Being rotting flesh yourself, you have probably never met a woman who isn’t rotting flesh.  I can see I must come as a shock to you.  Perhaps you might kick off with how your slave-women are not rotting flesh, how it’s perfectly normal that nurses snigger and jeer at a woman who has been crippled, indeed how it is perfectly normal for doctors and nurses to cripple a woman, how being utterly impervious to all fact, reason and morality, incapable of independent thought, devoid of honour and integrity, recognizing no truth or good that does not fall from your twisted animal mouth (whoops, there I go being inflammatory again), all these are indices of virtue and sanity, and of course giant intellect.  You do need to be exact, explain how a creature divorced from reality is sane and one incapable of argument is rational. Any time you’d like to explain on camera how the free world doesn’t exist because you say it doesn’t,  and England is a Catholic country because you say it is, I’m sure England will lap up your every word.  You need to be precise here, no abstract dribbling about how there is no such thing as freedom.  You need to explain that history did not happen.  There was no Magna Carta, no foundation of the Church of England, no Reformation, no English Civil War, no Glorious Revolution, no Enlightenment, no French  Revolution, no American Revolution, no Declaration of Independence, no Bill of Rights, no Monty Python, no Dave Allen Show.  You need to explicitly state what you clearly believe -- that the numerous texts critical of religion which are part of that history that did not happen, the works of Paine, Voltaire, Diderot, Marx, Engels, Lenin, that there was no Woodstock, no Sixties Revolution, no musical Hair, no rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar, that mega-million bands of the nature of Led Zeppelin, the Stones, the Beatles, Black Sabbath, are all my invention or at most peripheral happenings of relevance to a tiny minority, certainly nothing to do with mainstream culture.  I think probably essentially what you need to solemnly state to the English, more than half of whom, you will recall, have no religion at all, is that England is a profoundly devout Catholic nation, obedient to the Pope, and these things therefore could not have happened in England. Don’t forget to deny the existence of readily checkable public records and state clearly that my parents, grandparents, great-grandparents were not who I say they are, or of course to state clearly, coherently, how there can be no question of people with authority and status being challenged, being questioned, being told to go to hell, how grossly unacceptable and inflammatory is that kind of nonsense, how the granting of a little power magically endows its holder with omniscience and omnipotence.  You really need to analyse my writing and demonstrate how evident it is I am a silly ridiculous little woman.  Above all, of course, make it plain to the dimmest of viewers that you have clear ownership of my body and mind, that I am your property to be crippled and mocked at your whim, that I may say and think and write and read and be and do only what you permit.  You really need to explain the precise mechanism there, demonstrate the deeds of ownership, all properly stamped.  The exact details of how I have been bought and from whom would be excellent.  Explain why language and reason have eluded you thus far, how utterly unnecessary they are to the carrying out of your orders, the only words required being, of course o master.  Explain how crawling around behind closed doors to engineer injury to me is anything other than the conduct of a sly cowardly cockroach (oh dear, did that offend you) and how lies don’t matter because the only truth is what is in the suppurating morass you call your brain.  Oh and I think the suppurating morass needs to explain its own special nay unique version of biology, how my father’s siblings having married Jewish people makes me Jewish. In short, Sar-fenan, old boy, you need to demonstrate that you are criminally insane. Well, no, I didn’t think you would leap at the invitation.  Why would you when you have so many most meek, obedient and loyal slaves falling over themselves to conceal your identity, your evil and your madness, but it’s not, I think, so much that they want to save you from prosecution, it’s the thought of the entire free world pissing with laughter at them.   As I began by saying, they are contemptible, aren’t they.  Broadly, there are two kinds of folks who don’t do cowering.  I’m the other lot.  ​

Ah, the Wine that does with Logic absolute
The two-and-seventy jarring Sects confute
The subtle Alchemist that in a trice
Life's leaden Metal into Gold transmutes.

You are of course fundamentally extremely stupid, as stupid as the dullest and most absurd nurse.  Nothing moves between your ears, as though your skull were solid concrete.  No little neuron squeaks in intellectual curiosity, frantically demanding to find out more, let alone wonders if you have perhaps got a couple of things wrong. 

Ah well, it was never the impression of the English that Nazis had giant intellects. 

You are of course a coward who does not speak openly. 

You are of course lacking all civilized attributes, these being courage, reason, integrity, love.  Naturally you don't want people to know that, know that you are a wild animal, a wolf, who tears into living flesh, seizing upon vulnerability. 

Do let us explore a little further my particular attributes.  It's not six out of seven, is it, but six out of nine: the Jew I am not and my diverse and plural family.

I should like you to know that I have thought really hard about what would crack your veneer.  I think it's probably mixed race families such as my Uncle Richard and my Aunt Margaret kissing and cuddling.  We don't need to go into too much detail here.  Simple normal human signs of love and affection do.  If I may refer you to something I wrote:

PANTHER -> Site news -> Hell, objectively speaking
by Ysabel Howard - Saturday, 4 February 2012, 02:44 PM
 
"The fires of hell are the Light of God as perceived by those who reject it." (St Catherine of Genoa) I haven't been able to trace this on-line. I noted it down somewhere in my complex intellectual past. Please contact me if you know the source, or for that matter if you think it a shoddy translation. It can be argued (means I'm going to argue it) that the various mythologies of the after-life put in what Susan Howatch in her delicious saga of the Church of England in the twentieth century calls 'old-fashioned picture-language' the proposition that after death you simply continue to be what you have chosen to be in life, only you're no longer able to change your mind, to attempt to make it comprehensible to the multitude. By doing so these mythologies introduce 'doer' and 'done-to' and so corrupt what simply is. God does not damn you. You damn yourself. Classic Catholic theology holds that right up to the moment of death one may repent and save oneself from hell, no matter how numerous one's sins, how vile one's existence. This is of course arbitrary and one may demand what change of state means that one may no longer choose after death; one of the ground-rules here is that a live soul has free will and a dead soul does not. If we return now to the inscription over the Gates of Hell in the Inferno Giustizia mosse il mio alto fattore:
fecemi la divina podestate,
la somma sapienza e 'l primo amore. Justice moved my high maker
Divine power made me
The profoundest wisdom and the first love. Right, so God sat there and thought ah-hah! Justice, wisdom and love demand I create a place of ever-lasting torment. It only makes sense within its own frame of reference, that of continued existence after death, in terms of the supremacy of human choice. Suppose you are a racist and something that others find delightful, tender, good and even holy, a mixed-race couple evidently besotted with each other, for instance, makes your skin crawl. That is your choice and an eternity surrounded by mixed-race couples besotted with each other would constitute eternal torment. No-one is doing anything to you. No-one is paying the slightest attention to you. You experience what is as scourging by demons, gnawing by Cerberus, fiery rain, you name it, all metaphors for your crawling skin and screaming mind.

The Allied forces were very thorough; I am sure there are excellent records of deNazification programmes.  Doubtless the deradicalization programmes used on members of ISIS cover gross sexual dysfunction.

So an ape in a paper hat falling over its eyes sits on a plastic throne suspended by wires and looks down and orders the world, decrees this, decrees that because it just knows it’s master of the universe and they all on their knees and beg to suck its cock, can’t do enough for it, fall over themselves to throw it my body to tear at, of course it’s a very inadequate little ape, feels threatened and antsy if it can’t control everyone and everything around it, and I have offended it, as any civilized rational being would because it’s bag of shit, and I must be punished, and of course it’s a very helpless little ape, it needs its slaves to exercise its commands, it’s nothing if no-one takes any notice of it, but they all think it’s terribly important and yearn to please it by sating its lust for fear and pain and people crawling to it.  And it makes them feel good to be obedient and live on their knees, grovelling, arse-licking, crawling, sucking-cock, because the ape is a Great One, their master, and their existence lies in being a creature of its will, and they deem honour, integrity, principle, reason, standing on one’s feet evils, arrogance, an offence to them as to the Great One, because they’ve never been educated and all the hard-wiring understands is that ape has power and can hurt them if they offend it
 
Could make a video about that.

As to Richard's practically non-existent war-record.  I have wondered if maybe he or another Brigadista killed someone close to you.  Richard at least wasn't in Spain long enough to kill anyone, since he got himself seriously wounded first time out and had to come home again.

Dreadfully pathetic little ape, aren't you, being devoid of both love and mind: a pretend human like so many of them, substituting wealth and power for being a man.  You just don't understand, do you, why I am in not in awe of a sleazy cowardly vicious thug.
 
​BACK TO YOU, SAR-FENAN
One really can’t take seriously anything a woman says, can one.  I mean, for heaven’s sake, all this preposterous nonsense about democracy and accountability.  The very idea of a huge and beautiful penis such as your being accountable to anyone is just bizarre, ridiculous, let alone of course to a bloody woman.  Justify one’s conduct?  Surely the penis is its own justification.  But the idea of a silly little woman having anything of significance to say is completely laughable. 
Yes.  Yes, you are completely insane.
The influence of your insanity is such that it is deemed impossible
-          To treat me as an intelligent educated life-form
-          To be solicitous of fact and reason, deeming them binding
-          To treat me as a casualty requiring assistance
-          To  make public all the facts of the matter.
Either they don’t want to or they’re frightened of you, your power and influence, you being but one of many, sad, seedy, vicious, psychotic, ludicrous, who will never get past first base, who uphold form not essence, who insist form is essence, who to get down to basics deem the multiverse defined by the sexual apparatus of a male ape-descendant on the third rock from the sun. 
Have I not cited:
“Seymour once said to me - in a crosstown bus, of all places - that all legitimate religious study must lead to unlearning the differences, the illusory differences, between boys and girls, animals and stones, day and night, heat and cold.” (JD Salinger: Franny and Zooey)
Except it’s not ‘religion’ is it, that’s just your puerile male monkey ravings about a great big male monkey in the sky; it is what is, the bloody Whole.
But they fawn on you, the filthy little male monkeys, Linch, Goldstone, Naylor, Blair, McDonnell.  Yea, they are legion.   Particular mention as ever to that foul depraved evil animal Blair, who deemed the jabbering of male monkey cronies such as Sacranie and Murphy O’Connor important to the country, Blair the invert who instead of enacting legislation protecting civilized people from psychosis enacted legislation making us its victims, who deemed it criminal to hate religion, the overthrow of the psychosis of which was necessary to the foundation of the free world, the overthrow of the unaccountable unchallengeable decrees of the self-appointed representatives of ‘God’, religion, which paralysed science and medicine, religion, which denigrated, injured murdered, denigrates, injures murders countless women and gays.  As stated, plenty of very bright people in both west and east.  There is no intrinsic reason why the internal combustion engine should not have been invented or penicillin discovered centuries previously; the innate capacity of very intelligent human beings to observe and reason did not suddenly increase; the freedom of their minds to do so did.
Blair, who nearly alone among the assembled company must always have known that England is not a Catholic country; or else the law curriculum at Oxford must have been strangely full of holes.
And how you cherish their depravity, their degradation, their resistance to all fact and reason, resistance to all morality, their submission: their absurdity.  Yea, in you resides all truth, all good.
“And I will use treatments for the benefit of the ill in accordance with my ability and my judgment, but from what is to their harm and injustice I will keep them." Hippocratic Oath
That alone is enough to make them objects of universal contempt and derision but the only reality they know is you.
Doubtless you richly reward them, in other ways besides throwing them a woman’s body to play with.