And, my fellow earthlings, I tried to convince everyone that we are all Citizens of Everywhere. It’s our only hope.
There’s not a lot to be optimistic about these days, but we can all distract ourselves from the mess we’re in. My distraction, ironically, is hope. Don’t lose hope, we can all help make things a little less miserable. This is my attempt to do just that.
I received my first Twitter ban today. I can still read tweets, but I can’t like them and I am not allowed to tweet for 12 hours. So don’t blame me if you don’t know what I had for lunch today.
It was a Chicken Caesar Salad. Now you know.
All I did was call Donald Trump a cunt. Even though I stand by my comment, which will be reproduced below, Twitter forced me to delete it. My knuckles feel well and truly rapped.
Bad hippy! Naughty hippy! You called the worst human being in the world, a bad, naughty word.
I’m not exaggerating, I really believe Trump is the worst person on the planet. Imagine having all that power, all that influence, a platform and pulpit do actual good, to, bring good into the world. And instead, you tweet this kind of bullshit:
This is not presidential.
The President or the United States is celebrating the burglary of a political opponent’s home. This is the state of America in 2019. It’s beyond satire, it is beyond a joke. Every tweet from this human cesspool sets a new low. He is a bottomless pit of toxicity and poison. He pollutes everything with his infantile rage tweets, a dozen times a day. Do they ever ban him? Do they, fuck! If anyone deserved to be stuck in Twitter’s penalty box, it’s Dumb Donny.
Elijah Cummings is a proper America hero. He has more decency in his little finger than the entire Trump dynasty, even if you went back 10 generations to the Drumfs. Don’t believe me? Wikipedia awaits.
For a serial liar, with more bankruptcies than successes in business, who has 5 kids from 3 wives, who grabs pussies and cheats at everything, who has besmirched and demeaned the the office of President more than Richard Nixon, to attack a man like Cummings, well it got my dander up.
I can’t imagine being gleeful over the the misfortune of another human being, even someone as vile as Trump. I will be gleeful when he is imprisoned, because he deserves it and it won’t be a misfortune. It will be justice. An orange jumpsuit for an orange moron.
Recently, I have been allowing myself the occasional reply to Trump’s tweets. Not because I think ol’ mushroom dick would see them, but for me. I have been expressing myself, via a pressure valve, namely a tweet. Thousands of people reply to his tweets and I can understand why. We all feel so small and helpless in the face of pure evil, we need to respond or it would eat us up inside. I like my insides uneaten, thank you very much.
Wanna see my tweet? The one that got me in trouble. The one I had to delete. Of course you do! Here it is:
Sometimes, decency requires indecent language
I didn’t say anything that was factually inaccurate. I didn’t say anything, I would not say to him in person, if given the chance. I used a naughty word. Ok, technically the naughtiest word, but no other word would do. No other word has that power, not to shock, but to convey rage. It’s the rage-iest. It was the right word, at the right time, for the right purpose.
I’m not sure what the threshold is for a Twitter ban. How many cry baby Trump supporting snowflakes had to report my tweet before I was banned? I don’t know, but it can’t be many, as I was banned within a couple of minutes of sending it.
This is what Twitter said about my tweet: “Your account has been locked for violating Twitter’s rules. Specifically for: Violating our rules against hateful conduct. You may not promote violence against, threaten or harass other people on the basis of race, ethnicity, national origin, sexual orientation, gender, gender identity, religious affiliation, age, disability or serious disease.”
I was framed and plead not guilty!
In what way did my tweet violate any of that? I did not promote violence, threaten or harass in any way. I did insult, but is being insulting against Twitter’s policy? Seems like it is. Unless, being a cunt is considered a disease or disability, I didn’t break their rules.
Clearly some Trump supporting infant didn’t like my naughty words, or they couldn’t cope with the truth, so they reported my tweet to Twitter. It’s not fair. Life is not fair. Whatever. I would do it again. I probably will do it again.
My ban finishes at 3am this morning. I am trying to stay awake till then, just so I can post a link to this piece on Twitter. Instead of one tweet, I’ve written 800 words. Thanks for the inspiration, dumbass. If you didn’t report my tweet, I wouldn’t have been motivated to write this today.
Oh and one last thing: #impeachtrump
The northlondonhippy is an anonymous author, online cannabis activist and recreational drug user, who has been writing about drugs and drug use for over 15 years. In real life, the hippy is a senior multimedia journalist with over 30 years experience of working in news.
The hippy’s book, ‘Personal Use’ details the hippy’s first 35 years of recreational drug taking, while calling for urgent drug law reform. It’s a cracking read, you will laugh, you will cry and you can bet your ass that you will wish you were a hippy too!
“Personal Use” is available as a digital download on all platforms, including Amazon’s Kindle, Apple’s iBooks and Barnes & Noble’s Nook. The paperback is available from all online retailers and book shops everywhere.
You can also find the northlondonhippy on Twitter: @nthlondonhippy unless he gets banned again
A couple of weeks ago, I marked an interesting milestone in my life. I celebrated my 50/50 day.
I can already hear you asking, what is a 50/50 day? Please allow me to explain, as it is a concept of my own creation.
If you’ve read my book, “Personal Use” (getting the shameless plug in early), you will know that I wasn’t always a north London-based hippy, but I began my life on the east coast of the United States of America. I moved to London in the early 90s, when I was my late 20s. I’m mid-50s now.
My 50/50 day is a way I’ve determined to mark my dual nationality, as it is the day where I have lived exactly half of my life in each country. So the first 50% of my life was spent in the states, the 2nd half of my life has been spent in the United Kingdom.
As I know my birthday and the date I moved to the UK, it was fairly straightforward to work out the exact date of my 50/50 day. I simply used an online date calculator that easily counts the number of days between dates. It worked out that I have lived over 10,000 days in each country. Wow.
Ain’t math amazing? And clearly I have too much free time.
But what does it actually mean, to mark one’s 50/50 day? All immigrants must pass this milestone, if they live long enough, so what’s the big deal?
For me, it is a way of honouring my dual heritage and reflecting thoughtfully about it. Don’t tell me I don’t know how to have a good time.
My paternal grandparents were Scottish and they moved to America and that’s where my father was born. My mother’s parents started their lives in Italy, and also moved to America before my mother was born. Both of my parents were first generation American-born, I was second. And then I moved back to Europe. It’s the circle of life, but with jet travel.
So I am half British and all European by birth, but my first nationality is legally American. I hold two nationalities now, as I am now also British, but what does it all mean? Other than a date I can point to as a midpoint in my geographic life, I guess it doesn’t mean that much. I just thought it was a cool thing to work out.
I always like to say, I am an earthling first. It’s what we all are, we are all earthlings. We scurry around on the surface of the Earth, which makes us all earthlings. It’s the one thing we all have in common. It comes before your race, your nationality, and your gender. You are an earthling, most of all.
“Hey, do you live on earth? Me too! That’s a huge thing to have in common. Let’s be best friends!”
We are the sentient, indigenous inhabitants of this planet named after dirt. Envy us, as we may be the smartest things that exist in the universe. Or pity us, as we may be the smartest things that exist in the universe. We may be as good as it gets.
Some say claiming you are a citizen of the world is controversial. Wasn’t it Terrible Theresa May who said it makes you a “citizen of nowhere”? It was.
What Terrible Terri doesn’t understand, and will never understand is that we are all citizens of the world. We are all really Citizens of Everywhere. We all flit about on the surface of this planet and while we may remain behind artificially delineated borders, we all share common hopes and common dreams. There is more that unites us, than divides us, as they say, but we forget this simple basic truth, so easily.
Countries and borders are made up creations. We decided all this nonsense, to keep us apart, when the reality is that we are all Citizens of Everywhere. Who is to say where on the surface of the planet, we are allowed to exist? What if I want to stand over there for a while?
We all need to think in these terms, if we want to have any hope of the continuation of the human race. We desperately need to be Citizens of Everywhere.
That may sound hyperbolic, but it is not. We are rendering the planet uninhabitable and we may reach a point, in the not too distant future, where human life will not be sustainable on Earth any more.
I’m not going to lay out the case for climate change here. I accept it is happening and I believe the official estimates of the rate of change are extremely conservative. It’s much worse than the mainstream media wants to admit. It’s a climate crisis and no warning is dire enough. Though to be fair, I am seeing this view slowly creeping into the mainstream, it’s just not creeping in fast enough. Listen out for the words ‘climate crisis’, they are being used more frequently by the media.
Sometimes, I hang out on a subreddit called r/collapse. It is not happy reading, but everyone deserves the truth. You can check it out RIGHT HERE.
The pessimist in me believes it is already too late, that the damage has been done and there is nothing we can do to reverse our inevitable extinction. But the optimist in me still tries to find some hope. It’s not easy, in the face of the overwhelming evidence, but I try, anyway.
Here’s a clip from a fictional TV show, called The Newsroom, from 2014. At the time of broadcast, it was considered over the top, now it is seen as visionary. Please take 5 minutes to watch.
https://youtu.be/XM0uZ9mfOUI
Our denial over the impeding climate crisis is a bit like our denial of other existential threats in our lives. The easiest example of this, is our denial over death.
What do I mean?
I mean, we all know we are going to die. There is no cheating death, at least not yet. It is the only certainty. We can all expect to shuffle off our mortal coils, eventually. We don’t know when, we don’t know how, but we know one day, we will be gone. And somehow we put all of that out of minds and mostly live our lives with carefree abandon, day after day.
It’s the same with climate change. We put it out of our minds, we accept the gradual and dramatic changes, and we normalise them, quickly. It’s part of our in-built coping mechanism, it’s not a bug, it’s a feature. It’s how we get through every day. But our lack of attention to this detail, you know, that the entire planet is dying, only confirms our fate.
Ut oh.
I’ve been working as a journalist for 30 years, and I’ve been making the same joke in newsrooms for about as long. The joke is that I always hoped I would live long enough to be able to cover the end of the world. Funny, huh?
Now that I am confronted with the actual possibility (certainty?), I don’t seem to be laughing quite as much.
I don’t think the world is going to suddenly end, that’s not what I mean. The planet will still be here, but it will rapidly become inhospitable to almost all life. There may be some bacteria, or perhaps some of the extremophiles will survive, but you can say goodbye to all the plants and animals.
We’re animals, in case you need reminding, so that means bye-bye us.
Gosh, this started out being about me marking my dual nationality, and our global commonality, and somehow it lead me to the climate crisis.
Everything leads back to the climate crisis. It is the existential threat to all of our lives. And it might already be too late.
In that context, my 50/50 day, is pretty insignificant, but I marked it anyway. We all need distractions, even if it is a distraction from the end of the world.
Have a nice day!
PS – If you found any of this upsetting, you are not alone. Check out r/collapsesupport for help with coping. You are NOT alone. Whether we like it or not, we are all in this together.
The northlondonhippy is an anonymous author, online cannabis activist and recreational drug user, who has been writing about drugs and drug use for over 15 years. In real life, the hippy is a senior multimedia journalist with over 30 years experience of working in the industry.
The hippy’s book, ‘Personal Use’ details the hippy’s first 35 years of recreational drug taking, while calling for urgent drug law reform. It’s a cracking read, you will laugh, you will cry and you can bet your ass that you will wish you were a hippy too!
“Personal Use” is available as a digital download on all platforms, including Amazon’s Kindle, Apple’s iBooks and Barnes & Noble’s Nook. The paperback is available from all online retailers and book shops everywhere.
You can also find the northlondonhippy on Twitter: @nthlondonhippy
If you fall down into a deep hole, there really is only one way out. Up.
Brexit is a bottomless pit of abject stupidity and depressing despair, but we have to assume at some point, we will slam into the very rock bottom. When we do, what will happen?
The only way out is up.
I wanted to get this prediction written down, on the extreme outside chance I am right. If I am, and that’s a big eff-ing if, then I will be seen as a genius of prognostication and you might even want to invite me to your next dinner party. But before I accept, do you have a special smoking area, for, you know, cool smoking? 😉
Here’s how I see things playing out over the next couple of months. I won’t put in any firm timings, beyond the one obvious one… As the law stands, right now, as I bash my keyboard and spew out my scenario, Britain will leave the EU, without a deal, on the 31st of October. Halloween.
Boo!
Did I scare you? You should be scared, because if we crash out on All Hallows’ Eve, it will not be a pretty picture. But I’m not here to debate or outline the calamity that would be a no-deal Brexit. I’m here to explain that unless something miraculous happens, this is the most likely outcome.
But don’t worry, I am also going to outline what that miraculous salvation could be. It might be our only hope. You can thank me later.
Again, as I write this, the Tory leadership contest is still ongoing, with both candidates trying to outdo each other in just how quickly and efficiently they can drive the UK over a cliff edge into a no-deal, must-have, do-or-die, bang -on-time, Brexit.
We live in Crazy Town, population, all of us. Please send help.
Unless a different miracle happens, we are headed for a government lead by Bumbling Boris Johnson. Or should it be Bungling Boris Johnson? How about bumbling on the first reference, bungling on the second? (Note to self, adopt this as hippy house-style from now on).
So Bumbling Boris will almost certainly be our next PM. All Boris has to do to facilitate a no-deal Brexit, is nothing. If he does absolutely nothing, the clock runs out and we leave the European Union, as the current law states at the end of October. We know, from his disastrous spell as Mayor of London, that Bungling Boris is extremely lazy. Doing sweet FA is his specialty. Remember his limp, late response to the riots in 2011? He can handle doing nothing. I bet he is doing nothing right now, this very second. And for this, his advisors are grateful.
But, but, but you say, parliament will bring down the government, if no-deal appears to be the likely outcome. I wouldn’t argue with this, I think that a no-confidence vote is very possible in this scenario. Likely even. And it may very well succeed. But that won’t solve our problems.
A no confidence vote will not solve our problems, because it leaves Bumbling, Bungling Boris, as caretaker Prime Minister. A dissolved parliament can’t force him to request an extension to Article 50, any more than a sitting parliament could. All he has to do is sit on his hands and run out the clock. But that’s not checkmate, not yet.
While an election would strengthen any request for an extension, it would still require a formal request to be made, by the PM, Boris. The EU would not unilaterally grant one, even for an election, without that formal request. If Befuddled Boris doesn’t write to Brussels, an election at this point won’t help. Please see the previous paragraph about Boris sitting on his hands.
Following a successful no-confidence vote, and before an election is called, opposition parties have a fortnight to form a new government with the Queen’s blessing. This is our only small glimmer of hope.
If the other parties could form some sort of government of national unity, they could do two very useful things.
The first is to revoke Article 50.
Sure, the government of national unity could request another extension, but at this point, I fear the EU would politely decline. Could you blame them? After watching this slow-moving car crash for over 3 years, it would make sense for the European Union to effectively tell us to shit or get off the pot.
That would make for a very stark, binary choice, leave without a deal and suffer all that comes with it, or revoke Article 50, sparing the country enormous pain, while alienating a large portion of the general public.
Decisions, decisions.
You might have noticed, I glossed over the whole government of national unity thing. At its heart, would have to be the Labour Party. Yes, the same Labour Party that currently doesn’t have a decisive remain policy. Let’s be honest, their stance on Brexit lacks any real clarity. They have tried to make it be all things, to all people and that strategy has failed.
Labour would be the largest party in this mythical coalition, but the other parties that would help form it, are are all firmly on the remain side, For this to work, for Jeremy Corbyn to be Prime Minister, Labour would have to also come out hard for remain. They would not have a choice. The alternative is that cliff edge, that they claim to want to avoid. This will be their chance to avoid it, once and for all.
A government of national unity, as the name suggests, puts country ahead of party, something our current parliament, and especially the Conservative Party seems to be unable to do. If this all plays out, as I am suggesting, the least worst outcome would be the revocation of Article 50.
And I have crunched the numbers, based on the current composition of parliament. Mathematics follow:
The Tories are a minority government, with 312 seats. The DUP prop them up with their 10 seats, as part of the confidence and supply agreement hammered out after our last election in 2017.
There are 650 seats in parliament, The speaker, plus the 3 deputy speakers, don’t vote. Sinn Fein don’t take their 7 seats, and there is currently one vacancy, so a full house right now is 638. Half of that is 319, a majority of 1 seat is 320. The Tories and the DUP combined, have 322. That’s the current magic number the Tories and the DUP can muster to vote, on a good day.
Labour currently have 247 seats. The next largest party is the SNP with 35 seats, followed by the Lib Dems with 12, Change UK with 5, Plaid Cymru with 4, and the Green Party with 1. Total here is 303, so we are still shy 17 more MP’s to join the fun and games.
There are 15 independent MPs, for the sake of simplicity, I am going to divide that number in half and round it up to 8. It could be less, it could be more, so I think 8 is a reasonable compromise figure. That brings our historic government of national unity up to 311 seats. We are still 12 shy of the magic number, 323, to have more more votes than the Tory/DUP combo.
Tories. We need Tories, less than a dozen of them. Maybe 10, maybe 12, without certainty, I will stick to 9. Based on rumour and voting records, I am banking on there being at least 9 principled Conservative MPs willing to join a government of national unity.
The Brecon and Radnorshire by-election is expected on the 1st of August. I’m not going to attempt to predict the outcome, especially since the pro- remain parties are cooperating. But this one seat, will probably be filled before my scenario will play out. So yes, my calculations are slightly fuzzy. Also, I am not a parliamentary scholar, I’m just some random British journalist and career stoner with too much time on my hands right now.
I am not saying any of this will be easy, or straightforward, but what I am saying is that it is possible. More than possible, but likely. And more than just likely, as I truly believe at this point, it is our one and only hope.
The second useful thing my imaginary government of national unity will do, will be to call another no confidence vote, to bring themselves down. Having done the only thing required of them, by cancelling Brexit and getting all of us out of this very deep hole, it would no longer need to exist and an election could be safely called.
Some MPs would be rewarded, and some would be punished in the next general election, but all of those who supported the government of national unity, will be looked upon by history most kindly, even if some people today, end up hating them.
I have no doubt that our next parliament, and our next government, will be unlike anything we’ve seen in living memory. The Brexit Party will get seats, neither the Tories nor Labour will have a majority, and the Lib Dems may become players again. Maybe the Greens will finally get more MPs. Anything is possible. And we could end up with another coalition government that lacks a big majority and its chief feature would be its inherent instability.
Whatever happens next, Brexit still needs to be dealt with, somehow. There is only one deal on offer, the same one that parliament has repeatedly rejected, the same one that the EU says will not be renegotiated under any circumstances. That deal is dead. And no deal would be a disaster. Our only hope is a government of national unity.
Or the apocalypse, but I am not convinced even the end of the world could end the endless stupidity that is Brexit.
We can’t lose hope. There’s only one way out of a hole. It’s up. And up is the positive direction. So let’s put the up in uplifting. We need a government of nationality unity that will exist for one purpose, to revoke Article 50. So let’s just do that.
The northlondonhippy is an anonymous author, online cannabis activist and recreational drug user, who has been writing about drugs and drug use for over 15 years. In real life, the hippy is a senior multimedia journalist with over 30 years experience of working in the industry.
The hippy’s book, ‘Personal Use’ details the hippy’s first 35 years of recreational drug taking, while calling for urgent drug law reform. It’s a cracking read, you will laugh, you will cry and you can bet your ass that you will wish you were a hippy too!
“Personal Use” is available as a digital download on all platforms, including Amazon’s Kindle, Apple’s iBooks and Barnes & Noble’s Nook. The paperback is available from all online retailers and book shops everywhere.
You can also find the northlondonhippy on Twitter: @nthlondonhippy – follow him and receive a free gift*)
