Okay, let’s end it, finito!
That ages-old scam, the British Monarchy.
The queen, her royal highness, is a little high after ingesting a gin tonic at a reception amid her fawning sycophants. What is she thinking? “I must appear royal. I must. I’m stoned.”
|Ooh that gin was good!|
What does she think when she goes to the toilet? “I’m royal, and I’m on the toilet. I’m descended from heaven.”
This little island country whose inhabitants used to paint themselves blue and lived in caves eating rotten boar entrails at a time when street lighting had been invented and libraries of higher learning opened in Babylon.
This little realm that managed to subdue what were termed savages with dark skins all around the world because it built a navy, represented by people who have so little sunlight in their own country and whose skin is so white that it practically glows in the dark.
They committed the biggest rip-off in world history.
The Brits have so much to be proud of with their monarchy. Henry’s chopping the heads off seven wives, another king murdering the child twins in the Tower of London, British soldiers massacring stone-age Zulu warriors with Henry repeating rifles, their compatriots enslaving the entire continent of India, which again was a civilized society long before England’s claims to be.
Incest, stealing, bigamy, adultery, robbing, murdering, with a flag and a Bible at close hand. Right up to our own time. This realm, this England!
|Photo courtesy of Politicalarticles.net|
The savages they once ruled across the globe were often horrified at the brutality of the British, one savage to another. It’s a fact, Hitler admired and respected the British Empire, as kindred spirits, and hoped they’d come to their senses, and stop fighting him, and join his world crusade.
The list of English misdeeds goes on. Using China as an opium den.
Murdering and starving millions of Irish during the potato famine, and laughing about it.
The Brits, the people, seem proud of this history for some reason, as though because of Shakespeare alone, the Union Jack represents some kind of enlightenment.
Here comes the queen. Yell “God save the queen! Maybe it should be “God damn the queen!”
See how daintily the queen extends her hand, displaying her jewels (stolen from the former Ceylon and other places). Her consort, the tall, eagle-looking Prince Philip, descended from German warlords, the people who brought you the Holocaust, changed his German name to a more English sounding one. He looks dashing, superior.
The British at one point literally ripped the gold band off the top of the Parthenon in Athens and looted it back to England. A pack of ocean-going thieves. How did they do it? How did they at one time rule and steal the world?
They built a navy with big guns. They could sail around the world terrorizing natives who had no navy, much as the US today fights only small, impoverished countries that have no air force or navy, no way of fighting back except with their own bodies. We pound ourselves on the chest that we’re the victors. We feel no shame fighting a country much smaller and poorer than we are.
Today, the British island is only a shell of what it once was, with a GNP lower than that of Los Angeles, and a lackey to the United States. Every time the US enters a war, England obediently follows along.
But it still has its queen, who exercises no real power of command, but is a figurehead, riding in her carriage, waving her little bejeweled hand next to her womanizing inbred son with his oddly shaped, duck-like head, and her grandson in his Nazi uniform off at some punk party. She still has her jewels.
People still bow and scrape. Why? The monarchies of Russia and Germany were disposed of long ago.
The answer is this. The Brits are the only imperialists who became expert, developed it to a fine art, that as their own private nigger, you were lucky to be under their sway. They told you how wonderful you were, even though it was implied that you were beneath them. They learned never to tell you this directly to your face, that you were less. But they acted haughty, above it all.
You were lucky to be their personal underling. You knew it too.
The Germans. They used to be too brutal. They’d tell you right to your face they were better than you. Then they’d take a whip to you, if you were as the English like to put it, a “bloody savage.”
The Brits, they didn’t make the mistake the Germans did, being overbearing to the point of unbearable. They’d speak in that lilting poetic tone they have, and talk about you being part of a “commonwealth.”
See how they use the word “commonwealth,” like you as a bloody savage were sharing in it, the wealth, when in fact you weren’t. They were stripping your poor country raw and shipping everything of value back to England. Commonwealth was just pure theft.
They treated you as though you were lucky to have them as overlords, as though it was some kind of higher state than your own miserable wretch situation, like you couldn’t take care of yourself because you weren’t intelligent enough. You were childlike.
You needed the guidance of the British. It was as if you were almost, not quite, but almost, one of them.
Millions of people bought into this. But then if you objected, they’d take a whip to you, and throw you in jail, or simply murder you, if you were as they put it, a “bloody savage” living on an easily conquered tiny exotic island.
The British are a little more circumspect today, but no less arrogant when it comes to their royalty.
Why are Americans so impressed with the English monarchy, instead of laughing at it?
Because, despite our power, despite that fact that we rule the world as a colossus, we’re still (to the English, and to ourselves) a bunch of ignorant, white trash hillbillies, or niggers, impressed by the mere trappings of power. For all our imagined sophistication, we know this to be true, that they’re better. This is what we still think, many of us, in the recesses of our subconscious. In a computer world, it’s still gold, jewels, crowns, platinum dinner plates, and purple embossed toilet paper that matter.
And glamour. And fancy cars. It’s things. They have a lot of things. Royal things.
In other words, it’s still a case of, if you give the natives trinkets, or if you have them or wear them yourself, it makes the ignorant natives happy.
To the English, we’re still a bunch of nose picking, egg suckin,’ ass-scratchin,’ belching, farting ignorant low-rent hay kicking village idiots who better bow and scrape in the presence of the queen…..or else.
It’s the same with the Pope in the Vatican. Gold. Jewels. In the name of religion. Stolen from vulnerable people all over the world over the ages.
It all sounds so lovely. This little nondescript woman descended from God. Did God put the crown on her head? No. The murder of people put that crown there.
As long as there are poor darkies or white trash hillbillies willing to bow, where the queen can lord it, from those wanting to be lorded, the English monarchy will live on.
A Brit reading this might say, “how dare you say that?”
My answer would be, it’s easy, it’s easy, it’s so easy, to dare.