Symbolism In Your Face.

      I know I said that the last post on Thatcher would be my last word on the subject, but I couldn't help myself on this one. I sat down with a cup of tea and switched on the tele at the 1 O'clock News, and there it was, "The funeral", (I should have known). The pomp and ceremony, the pageantry, the spectacle, a true picture of how the rich and powerful mark the passing of one of their great warriors.  A display meant to humble those she was sent out to destroy, a marker for you to know your place. You, the ordinary people don't belong here, this is the domain of the ruling class. This whole affair with all its fancy dress and sparkling uniforms, is a victory parade as the parasitic elite feel confident enough to shove their symbolism in your face. A show of power for those who hold power and for the passing of one who worshiped and fought for that power. There was nothing there that said, humility, nothing that said, ordinary people of the UK, it was a military display, with the trinkets of the ruling elite stage managed and hung out to impress.

        When will this grotesque type of display, which is nothing more than a bullhorn advertising the power of the rich, and those who hold that power dear, be swept into the dustbin of history.

        I promise that this is my last word on Thatcher and Thatcherism, honest.

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