The “Compassionate” Con

Why do the Tories have to insist, so profusely, that they are “compassionate”? They’ve recently started slipping it in and tacking it on again, at every opportunity. It’s as though they suddenly think we might need reminding. Or they are doing that positive affirmation thing in order to convince themselves. As though conservatism and compassion were not natural bedfellows…

OED: “Compassionate: Sympathetic pity and concern for the sufferings or        misfortunes of others.Middle English: via Old French from ecclesiastical Latin compassio(n-), from compati ‘suffer with’.

Passion from Old English:
The word passion comes via Old French from Latin pati ‘to suffer’. The Passion refers to the suffering of Jesus Christ. The sexual sense dates from the late 16th century. Passionate in late Middle English included the senses ‘easily moved to passion’ and ‘enraged’. Passive (Late Middle English) comes from the same root, from the sense of ‘being acted upon’, and compassion (Middle English) is literally ‘suffering with’ someone, while compatible (Late Middle English) comes from the Latin for ‘fit to suffer with’.”

Fancy a political ‘One Nation‘ party actually having to qualify ‘Conservative’ with ‘Compassionate’ just to reassure and soften its image! How ridiculous is that! And how sad. They’ll be telling us it’s a ‘British value‘ next.

And how insultingly patronising is the term “Compassionate Conservatism”? What is it saying? “Oh, we feel really sorry for you”? – “There, there, Daddy will take of you”? – “We feel your pain and anger and we understand”? – “We suffer with you”? – “We’re all in it together”?

By the way: “The root of suffer, is Latin sufferre, from sub- ‘from below, under’ and ferre ‘to bear’. As well as ‘to undergo or endure’, it can mean ‘to tolerate’, and this is the sense you are using when you say that someone does not suffer fools gladly. The expression is biblical, from the second Epistle to the Corinthians: ‘For ye suffer fools gladly, seeing ye yourselves are wise.’” – OED

“We suffer you” – that’s the one, isn’t it? They believe We, the People, are the fools that they, being better than us, can afford to – are fit to – accommodate. We are tolerated. Just about.

Of course, there are individual Conservatives who demonstrate sincere compassion; empathy, even but, as a collective; as a political party, they certainly do not. The Cons aren’t compassionate towards us beyond the expedient lip service of self-preservation. And, as for suffering with us: well, that’s almost funny.

The Cons are done

The Tories are imploding
The con is really showing

Your spin has spun
You’ve come undone

The Tories are in turmoil
See their party mind boil

The time has come
You’re overdone

The Con men are exploding
With outbursts of unloading

Your Treasured One
Can’t do his sums

The spectacle they’re making
Is self-perpetuating

You’ve had your fun
Your time is done

For six long years you faked it
And now we see you naked

You should be gone
So just do one

See Chancer Osborne

See Silly Slinky gun for the Town
Upstairs and downstairs in a double down
Tapping all the poorest to multiply his guck
Are all the People fast asleep, I can’t believe my luck!

See Chancer Osborne drum for the crown
Upstairs and downstairs, eyes floating round
Crapping on the country to justify his sums
Are the People off their heads, or I the only one?

See Nil O’Thinky get taken down
Upstairs and downstairs unveil the clown
Nipping at his cocksure, calling out his scam
Stage an intervention on the Con man’s plan

See Frilly Trinket starting to squirm
Upstairs and downstairs catching the worm
Tapping at the mindset that motivates his lot
How are you still the Government, it’s past gone o’clock? 😉

Spirit shots

I reached out…
Love was there:
the kind of love
that restores your faith
in Humanity
in yourself
the kind of love
that renews
that strengthens the very core
that reminds you who You are
touches the heart
fills the spirit…
And I soaked it up

~*~
My deepest gratitude to all who responded to my previous post. I have been overwhelmed by your concern and solidarity; your empathy and kind wishes. My spirit is greatly lifted and a lifted spirit is the most powerful medicine I could possibly have need of. Thereof do I derive all my strength. Thank you, for helping to boost it. xXx ⚡️

But I have to cope, don’t I? It might be all the control I have.

I feel as though I can barely cope, at the moment. This is not a search for pity, though; more an attempt at catharsis and bearing witness by personal account – personal being something I normally avoid, here…

Last week I was hastily dispatched to my ‘local’ A&E with a suspected stroke, where a tired, pressured and rushing assortment of wonderful medical staff showed a high level of concern. Turns out it’s Bell’s Palsy, which is surely a relief, relatively speaking, though it didn’t seem to much diminish their concern and care for me.

Actually, Bell’s may not be life and death but, on top of my long-term underlying health condition, its subsequently increasing list of secondary problems, on top of the fatigue and chronic pain.. having a paralysed left side of my face and the high dose of steroid treatment they advised is exacerbating existing problems and adding many more. I am having to fight harder, with every minute, not to feel utterly and irrevocably miserable. I want to curl up and sleep until I’m better. But better hasn’t ever really shown itself and I’m not getting younger. Plus, I have never been very good at curling up. Likely more animal instinct for movement than a quality of good character, however…

Stress and vulnerability to more stress plus decreasing personal resources to cope with a rapid sequence of challenging physical, mental and emotional trauma is taking its toll. And I’m not even in the high stakes band of disability. It’s not a competition, I know but my heart breaks for them and my awe knows no bounds.

I am, though, in a greatly weakened state, after more than a decade of coping with the consequences of my physical condition; with getting by, far too much, on bloody-mindedness and adrenaline – and then with negotiating the Con DWP’s hoops. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve blamed myself for not being capable; for being more burden than use, to both loved ones and Society. How many times I’ve pushed myself beyond a safe, manageable pace, as if I still needed testing!

When I got home, from the hospital, a mere six hours later, my PIP appointment was on the kitchen mat.

At the doctor’s check-up, yesterday (for the Bell’s), my GP – he’s not mine, of course: a personal family doctor is the stuff of my childhood – well he was equally concerned with the stress and vulnerability and poorliness I was displaying. He asked me if I wanted to try antidepressants. Really, Reader, apart from the fact that they and other useless drugs were once prescribed to me for the purpose of physical pain relief, with quite disastrous consequences, the last thing I want to do is give the PIP assessor an excuse to herd me into a new category of tickboxes, with a whole other set of nasty and arbitrary assumptions, hoops and conditions attached. I’m just too frightened and suspicious, now… I tell the doctor that I may or may not be clinically depressed but that I’ve never sought diagnosis (neither has such been offered) because, all things considered and, when I am not so generally overwhelmed by feeling low and rather extra poorly, my natural state of mental and emotional well-being are probably as good as can reasonably be expected; that my responses to my personal life conditions are surely normal/natural and that any depression is more of a secondary complication, just as are the teeth I have literally killed by clenching as a constant brace against pain. “Yes,” he said, “all things considered”.

But I have to cope, don’t I? Keep carrying on. It might be all the control I have.

Poor Iain Duncan Smith

Oh, Iain Duncan Smith,
Poor you,
Being bullied by “spin, smears and threats”
Aw, boo hoo

Distressed by gratuitous scaremongering, are we?
Pressed your sensitive button, have they?

Feeling threatened by the consequences of
Making “desperate and unsubstantiated” claims?
Has your penchant for the “biblical” been usurped?
Ha! Do you see now, how the irony works?

Oh, diddums
Why so weak?
Can’t you cope?
Stiffen those sinews: where there’s Life, there’s hope,
Remember?
Try harder. Pull yourself together, man.
More smiling; less shuffling
More effort, please.

Do you need a hand up? Try one of those
“Series of highly questionable dossiers”
You cling to. They’re the new hand out,
Available at all recommended public service outlets

A team of scapegoat therapists will draw you up a plan
Happy to strip you of any reasonable doubt;
Coach you, what you must and can
And medicate you meek, messiah man.

Do not apologise

Do not apologise for seeking social justice.
Do not apologise for believing in a higher ethic.
Do not apologise for expecting competence and integrity
in our leaders; in our institutions.
Do not apologise for wanting better for yourself;
for your children; for your fellow Beings.
Do not apologise for respecting our planet
in our taking; in our sharing.
Do not apologise for imagining a future of peace;
of freedom; of dignity
but welcome your humanity.
A kinder world is possible; is waiting.

Fear creates a feast

Fear creates a feast
to suit the taste
of each invited guest
that takes a seat
and makes request,
to fill the belly of a beast.
We are what we eat.

Not News

Each day, the same:
News that tweaks before it checks;
Assumes, skims over, grooms, neglects –
Like all good servants, un-sees, covers, cleans, forgets.

What day is it? What year, this week
But yesterday’s rehashed receipt?

Wash; condition; rinse; repeat;
Reset the gloss, that it may speak as scrutiny it did not seek
‘Til time and topic loyally meet to mete the minuted worksheet
And mock the poor pips as they squeak.

Which way is up? What’s going down
Behind the clowns who spin in rounds
Stale bread and circus tedium of stenographic medium?

Priority: free access to monotony of Overton variety
In twenty-four-seven society, quieted so quietly;
Cuckolded, entirely.