The Nazi state of Britain

I feel the need to rant.

Waking up this morning’s headlines has just turned my stomach. Nothing to do with the affects of the night before – it is something far more sinister, subtle and persuasively permeating at work. Like a virus praying on its host, destroying the very fabric of being, so we find that MPs have voted in favour of allowing the creation of human/animal hybrids.

The proposed bill was on the monitor in the House of Commons as we sat their debating legislation of online advertising last week. I could not help wonder if I was sitting in the wrong room.

Flying in the face of 21 states who have outlawed such meddling with human life as Frankensteinian, even the scientists are split as to whether rejecting this bill really would stifle progress. There are after all no promises of cures, no matter how desperate those who are feeling the pain over loved ones long for one. Desperate emotions are no basis for law, Mr. Brown, even if we empathise with the plight of your child. Creating and killing another life to save the former is not an acceptable mode of operandi.

But it does not end here. Apparently children do not need a father, as it is looking likely that a consideration of one should no longer be a consideration in IVF clinics. Does that mean I can claim state redundancy pay for being obsolete? As a man who despite past struggles, can now relish in hindsight at the input of my own father over the years, I for one take serious offense at this. Despite the many great things women find themselves having to endure and often do so remarkably, the essence here is that I find it an assault on my very manhood and all that it stands for. Two heads are always better than one. It is also a further commitment on a slope towards greater chaos on social disorder.

The very sanctity of life is at stake here. None more so blatant than on the same front page of the hybrid vote on the Daily Mail we have a story about a ‘vicar’s daughter killed fleeing bullies’ as she finds herself falling out of a roof apartment. This would seem to be the logical conclusion of an un-parented (or certainly soft-parented) and chaotic generation. Whatever is right for me is right it would seem, despite the evidence showing the opposite. Schools blaming parents, parents blaming schools. Political correctness is nothing more than a cop out for people with no balls, as it seems as though spineless eunuchs now rule the roost. Someone needs to take a grip and say ‘it stops here and now’, whether in the family home or in society in general.

Oh that this same vicar would find his faith strengthened despite such appalling circumstances and rise up to take a stand and offer moral guidance on such a wayward state. Clearly those in charge are no longer capable. Reverent Boxhall, we need you. This world needs fathers!

Natural selection and theories of evolution from apes leads man to assume he is capable of being God – a very graven idol indeed. Coming from a design background myself and knowing the painstaking processes it is to develop even the simplest piece of artwork, for some to say on presentation of my efforts ‘ah it was all just coincidence’ or something equally trite would leave me feeling very insulted. I would think twice about accepting commission from that client again. Man may be able paint the colours on afterwards, but only God can bring them from within. If God has indeed left, I suggest it was us who pushed Him away.

As a marketer who himself is at loggerheads with mere consumerism for the sake of it, yes I feel a level of social responsibility and heed the ramifications of all this from every angle. As a prophet and an evangelist, I can foresee where all this is heading and feel the need to speak out.

Don’t get me wrong, we all have a job to do. Mine is to connect the needs, wants and desires with those whom offer solutions – and to do so better – but in context. After all, barter and trade is as old as them hills. Yes I want progress but at what cost? I want to see my clients make money and see technology deliver better experiences for the user, viewer and consumer alike. But that is a far cry from saying anything goes in the name of greed and promotion of a lie that this product will promise you everlasting happiness. The whole reason for self-regulation groups like Advertising Standards Association is to have some kind of thermometer to bring balance back to those who would be less scrupulous in their endeavours to make a fast buck. Money is not evil, it is merely a root that feeds a corrupt heart.

When I stand back, I see that consumerism and moral decline seems go hand in hand, as if one attempts to satisfy the other – yet all tempered in the name of political correctness… most of the time you can interchange the word selfishness. Seemingly political correctness extends to growing another child to hack to bits if needs must for a former child, but to speak out against this makes you less of a caring parent?! How twisted. Don’t dwell on it though; think about your new Hi-Def TV instead…

Take a good, long honest look people at this world we are creating, because we have been here before.

Experiments with human life and ID cards to identifying individuals into target groups was something that came to define the Nazi state. Both seem to now to be socially acceptable and happening at lightning speed under government approval. Morals and ethics are continually downplayed behind selfish greed. It is also a prediction of the end of mankind – what it means to be human – backed by a fearful man projecting those fears to a nation to cause a chain reaction that was and will be more horrific then Hiroshima. Am sure the unsettled Hitler youth did not foresee Auschwitz. So what exactly have we learned, other than justification?

We can all make excuses for our actions. It takes bollocks to admit your faults. Prime Minister ‘Mengele’ Brown, you’ve spent my pension, seek to track and video record my life and now you want to play with my unborn kids. Your legacy on our country is that you have made the very rivers of life we drink the same colour as your muddied name.

No wonder my stomach is sick…