Found an outlet of sorts for my anger at stuff in the news through music today. It's always good to get up close and personal with VdGG, and listening to Peter Hammill's excoriating Every Bloody Emperor was happily therapeutic. Some wonderfully acid lyrics from the master of genuine angst:
Yes and every bloody emperor's got his hands up history's skirt / As he poses for posterity over the fresh dug dirt. / Yes and every bloody emperor with his sickly rictus grin / Talks his way out of nearly everything but the lie within / Because every bloody emperor thinks his right to rule divine / So he'll go spinning and spinning and spinning into his own decline.
Also I found playing Dimitri Shostakovich's 10th Symphony in the car this morning a useful way of entering into the jittery anxieties of those threatened by the idiot emperor in a vaguely cathartic manner.
I was driving, as it happens, to the Botanic Gardens for a morning walk with Boon and Mei and the Missus - possibly the best therapy of all.
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