The Ears Have Walls

Sometimes, Dear Reader, it is important to listen to the quietly spoken voice at the back of the room. It is true that the person at the front, the groomed suit with the polished shoes and purpose built haircut, the extrovert, the orator-come-demagogue, the populist with mellifluous effluent, his plunge into the pool does make impressive waves. He is the person who will tell us that this is so and that is thus. He will convince us that he will lead us into a sunny upland where the lions frolic with the lambs in joyous harmony. But hold the farm! There is a tentative hand, slowly rising. There is a shrinking violet who wants to burst into bloom. And we wait with bated breath and we hope that the MC will give him his opportunity. And we know that what he has to say, will be based on formidable understanding; that he will be able to point out how failings can become successes; that he will show us that he has an equal handle on pros as well as cons; that his quiet confidence will set about the roguish arguments of the front and centre and flatten them on the canvas until wisdom and common sense count them out and a gloved hand is raised in humble victory. But, Dear Friends, so often the ears have walls and we listen only to cocksure confidence and lambent loudness and he, who really knows his stuff, voices it in the wilderness.

As I write there have been at least 35 instances of trucks which have run into bridges here in British Columbia. Their loads are too high. How can this be? A professional driver should know the height of his vehicle. She should be required to measure it before every trip. He then should plan his route so that it takes him where he will hit no bridges. The true professional drivers, the ones who are proud of their punctilious prowess, will tell us that there are too many ‘cowboys’ in the industry; that companies are cutting corners to get their goods to market more cheaply. And then the people have listened; the law makers have conferred; an expensive committee has met; an expansive judgement has become law. And all is now right with the world. Except! No, it isn’t. The following day a large truck takes a concrete chunk out of a bridge and here we are again. And then, yet again, the ears have walls and suddenly there’s a truck blocking a highway because some clown hasn’t used a tape measure. Dear Reader, there is no need for the added expense of analysing this situation. The laws are there. Get out the book and throw it at the culprits. But as Lord Justice Brown once said:-

“The rain it raineth on the just,

And also on the unjust fella,

But chiefly on the just, because,

The unjust hath the just’s umbrella.”

Recently I renewed my British Passport. Doing things on line is something that I dread. But I fear procrastination more. So I sucked at my teeth, drew deep breaths, and ‘screwed my courage to the sticking post’ and went about things with calculated calm and manufactured patience. Of course I needed passport photographs so Irene and I rang up Shoppers Drug Mart and asked if they did such things for British Passports. And did they do them so that they could appear on my online application form as there was no other way to renew? Yes they do. So we trekked off to the store. The young man took my photographs and then explained that he would have to put them on an USB stick which I would have to buy. (Hmm! I would have brought one along, had I known.) Did they submit them to my form? No they did not. So without paying for them but with explaining why, we walked away. We had to seek satisfaction elsewhere. I found a place on Lonsdale. I went downstairs. Young fellow directed me to a seat, told me to remove my glasses, took the picture, brought up the UK passport website, showed me my picture on the form and charged me ten bucks less than ‘Shoppers’. He asked me if I would be good enough to return to him when my Canadian passport is due for renewal. Yes I shall.

If I can be bothered I will contact the High Heidyin of SDM and explain the problem with his system. Without a bit of research, however, I will not be able to find anybody accountable. And if I do, the cynic within will tell me, you’ve guessed it, the ears have walls.

“You may not be interested in politics but politics is interested in you”. Leon Trotsky

There is a lot that I agree with in this statement made some years ago before Trotsky was assassinated by agents of the USSR wielding an ice axe. Politics certainly were interested in him. People have busy lives and oftentimes the ‘world is too much with them late and soon’ so I understand that the political machinations locally, nationally and internationally may only be of passing interest. But, Dear Reader, the sad truth is that if one doesn’t take an interest, decisions are made that impact us all. Politicians are adept at the Friday afternoon announcement; producing a card from up their sleeve with a magical sleight of hand when the rest of us have gone fishin’. Our family subscribes to a newspaper and watches the News once per day. Does that account for a proper engagement in politics? Not really. Certainly it provides food for thought, points for discussion. Does it empower us to make a difference? That’s debatable. Indeed, as it should be! If we are retired and have time on our hands, it should encourage us to read more, to inform ourselves more, to allow ourselves to be sucked into a vortex of untruths and be spewed out the other side with some form of reasoned understanding. And if, in a sound-byte world, our views are still Cyclopean, and our ears still have walls, then at least we can claim to have tried, I think.

I suspect that this current example from the Kingdom of Blog has been spawned from a dusty corner in the Davidson brain because we are about to witness another U.S. presidential term from an atrocious Attila, who is not satisfied with sacking Rome once but is determined to do so for a second time; a man possessed with all the subtle diplomacy of the blitzkrieg. It looks like all the States that still sell leaded petrol will elect him while the unleaded ones are functioning with reasoned logic and careful analysis. All those good people who have become addled by too much processed food and have chronically scraped their knuckles by constantly dragging them along the gravel behind them, will make their mark on the voting slip. They will vote for simple solutions, rambling rambunctious rubbish, mauling monstrous misogyny, lawless lies, energised egomania, amoebic amorality, excruciating xenophobia. They will herald a second coming of a pathetic, puerile, spoiled brat  who conned people for four years, and who, having stamped on one foot, shall be given the opportunity to stamp on the other. People get the government they deserve but I am not sure, Friends, whether the poor American people deserve that. Sadly, the ears of so many have walls. Is this the second coming that W.B. Yeats predicted over 100 years ago?

“Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart, the centre cannot hold,

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned,

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.”

Thanks for reading.