I used to like weekend radio on RTE Radio One, especially Sunday mornings, although eyem changing my mind as there’s just too much misery porn being peddled on the shows, and this weekend was a great example, as Marian Finnucane began her show explaining to her listeners that the new superstar of Ireland 2.0, Jonathan Rachel Clynch, would not be appearing alongside her, revealing heez “gender fluid” as he didint want The Irish Daily Star, the paper of record (and who revealed the news to a delighted nation), to “dictate when he would or he wouldn’t talk about himself” and thank Caitlin he didint as eyed be subjected to the usual cant relating to the lack of diversity and equality and plurality and tolerance and blah blah blah and who are we to judge C.R.A.P. although myself and the Irish listeners got something much, much worse; Roisin Ingle, explaining her need to tell her abortion story.
And this morning as i drove to the supermarket of Real Food for Real People i listened to Sunday Miscellany, as Alan Keely read his lines and remembered how tough it was for his father raising two boys alone in grim nineteen seventies Ireland and i thought; can we just give it a freakin’ rest, this constant maudlin outpouring of public acts of confession is far too much for any person to take, itz wearin’ me down, man . . .
We currently live in an overprotective, liberal fascistic society, which in order to maintain itz dominance, denigrates our parent’s past by encouraging the heretics of yesteryear to continuously cheerlead for a fanciful future, one, where we all exist, but do not live . . .
. . . no matter what the new priests of the present proclaim