Category Archives: Dread

The War Posts – Part I .An Introduction to War

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Foreword: The dates of the 6th and 8th of August hold particularly vivid images in the historical narrative. Most readers will be aware of their relevance. The days Nuclear Weaponry was added to the catalogue of weaponry. Thus, arguably these events became the starkest, most fearful indication to a number of people as to the horrors of War. Those who lived in times and places in which they did not personally experience the events and consequences of War. And to everyone how very efficient and finalistic War was now becoming.

Overview
As long as there has been Humanity there has been conflict, as it is with other species. Although as Humanity developed and started its path to civilisation War became more than just one group throwing things at another group. As did everything else War developed too, the logic being weapons had to improve to keep up with everything else; you could hardly conquer in walled city with a host of men armed with sharp pointed stick charging at it and valiantly poking away. Missiles, sieges, mining, poisoning of water courses, throwing in of dead diseased bodies and of course laying waste the land around depriving the foes of resources. Pitched battles could be quite rare at times. There was also the arts of marching and countermarching like chess, and maybe the foe would see no advantage to combat, give up and go home or seek terms. The latter practice carried on into the early 18th century; then with industrialisation war became more focused about destroying armies.

Throughout all this one thing was a constant. That being the suffering of the civilians and the ruination of their livelihoods. The idea of an army marching in good disciplined order with stony faces set of the horizon and their tryst with Fate might make good image on film. Only in the old style propaganda films or political slanted works will you see soldiers treating enemy civilians in sanitised bad ways, you will have to read about the true pillage, multiple gang rapes, random killing, casual cruelty and destruction. You would have to bypass the recent wars quasi-colonial style wars of the latter part of the 20th and thus far in the 21st Century to face the fact that the liberating armies of the Allies moving west through France and into Germany in WWII were not comprised entirely of firm but fair, tough fighting decent lads.

Armies are at best hard, brutal machines trained to expect danger; at worse they are ill-disciplined armed gangs with a smidge of training. And there are the majority, the in-between. Ill-clothed, ill-ed, ill-paid only there because there was no other option.
Civilians are the fodder, either swept up to be part of the violence or to be treated with no more concern than their houses. Either a resource to be used, or one to be destroyed thus depriving the enemy and sapping the general will, another resource.

Reasoning
I can understand that having digested this, the reader would conclude ‘I can see where he is going with this. He is trying to dilute the effects on the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki by a sweeping generalisation, that they were nothing special’
It would be a reasonable assumption.
From the perspective of repulsion and the sudden, swift, frightening devastation. A fearful power unleashed, a vision as to how War could now be.
Yes they were special. None of us were now safe. Anywhere. Anyhow. We were all subject to the Dread Logic of War.

War?
Suffering. Terrible, Raw, Suffering. Dealt out with a Logic more terrible than the weapons themselves.

The next part covers The Logic of War

USA. Your Time is Running Out.

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ITALY-FRANCE-WEATHER-FEATURE

Yes USA. You as many a nation before you are being called to account. You stand at a crossroads. You may have been told this is all about Liberty. You will have been warned that there is a risk Democracy could be taken away from you. You will have been told that Intolerance and Bigotry will be rife.

Indeed, all possibilities, and then things could get worse. Much worse. Worse than you may have imagined. Or maybe dreaded.

Exaggeration you say?

OK. Look at it this way. This winter, there will be weather warnings about heavy snowfalls. I take it you will take precautions to try to minimise the effect. I expect you will not ignore them, unless you are suffering from conspiracitis. (A terminal disease). You will pay attention.
So why do you not pay attention to the warning of what can happen if the Right once more win this presidential election? Or if they lose have another spoiled brat tantrum?

Think you worst possibility, then think worse again.

Ah dear reader I am done writing mild(ish) balanced posts. This is an updated version of another post, from another blog

https://politicsandhistory359465094.wordpress.com/2022/05/08/a-spectre-to-be-exorcised-communal-violence/↗

I very much doubt if this will be read by the numbers of folk my words are intended for, it is probably too late and I have written this theme over and over again down the past few years.

So why bother?

It’s not about my nation, the UK. It appears to be a self-inflicted folly by a portion of a nation who gave up thinking of Implications and Consequences and either switched off or dreamed out the jagged cutting parts of the ideas fed them.

Why bother?

Because it is my duty to bother. Because in this world of instance communication, complex interlockings and interactions, where after two Global Wars and a series large enough conflicts with attendant social eruptions, whatever happens ‘There’ will be implications ‘Here’. Because if I claim to embrace a set of values which generally aims for Compassion, Tolerance and Respect, it is not acceptable to sit back,  shrug and do something pleasantly diverting.
Because the forces which are set out in the Broadness of History constantly roiling are at a stage at which they threaten to erupt. History you say, is always written by the victor…..Nonsense. History has a long, long reach and victors of one time do not stay thus.

It can be argued that no two nations histories go along the same lines. However there are tides and there are commonalities, particularly in the areas of discord. If one grouping feels another grouping is imposing upon it, in a heavy and unjust way, then there will be a reaction. The group of course doing the imposition will feel that it is justified to do so. Lines will be drawn, discourse will be closed down, each will turn unto themselves. And when the side imposing the will does not have the unconditional support  of all the security or defence forces personnel having made personal attacks upon them, it is then that unpleasant and unthinkable possibilities arise.
And in the USA this is being drawn in a very ever thickening line. For neither side has the will or ability to reach over to the other; despite the efforts of some very brave folk, there is no general consensus for this polarisation to stop. Thus from here the chances of physical conflict are raised upwards, to volatile states as one ‘But they can’t / wouldn’t do that’ gets swept away by the next newsfeed.

Some foolish folk will welcome it, thinking of a replay of the Civil War, or some sort of boardgame set up (yes they are out there, rather naïve ideas of the opposing forces) and there’s a very, very politically unsatisfactory unrealistic film going the rounds too.
It would not be like that. Look not to Syria of the past decade as an example, turn instead to Northern Ireland of the late 20th century, and maybe with an edge of mutiny within some of those charged with order.

Writing this it is difficult not to have the ageless Dylan song ‘Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall’ in my head. Listen to its lyrics and fit them into this time and place in the USA.

One final thought. Of course, there will be other nations seeking to take advantage of this. The motives are inscribed in the International Relations playbooks. If I was living in and devoted to that nation and fearful of the USA I would be expecting my government to do something to benefit ‘our nation’

A handful days of deciding and one day of voting to go. I personally only have Hope left in my resources. Hope for my friends in the USA, Hope for the folk of Ukraine, Hope for Hope’s sake.

Hope that the 6th of November will be decked in an allegorical sunrise.

And Hope that over the course of the next year, this post will be made to look ridiculously overblown and alarmist. A small price to pay.

Jill’s Horror Story. Which is not so Fictional.

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Filosofa Tries Something Different …

Our Jill has taken the plunge into writing fiction. But is it?

Take a read and think back to factual accounts you may have come across in reliable newsfeeds. You know that normally in Horror stories the reader can be chilled but also take comfort in the idea, ‘This could never happen to me. S’only a fiction,’ . Well this one narratives a series of events which may come tapping at your door. Be prepared to be chilled and warned.

Well done Jill

When It Wasn’t Fun To Play Anymore #Blog Battle : January – Creep

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Dread

He looked into the mirror to practice his smile, then pulling the hood up practiced again. Yes perfectly scary and predatory. A fine dark night to seek out a lone girl and put the fears on her, he had his stalking down to a fine art. And he did so love to see them break into a scamper, hear their desperate sobbing panting. At the present it was all to do with the thrill of the chase. He stepped out into the dark and empty street and began to make for his hunting grounds.

He had not gone too far, when he noticed a sudden flash of light behind him, illuminating his own shadow. He turned around, someone might have noticed him and wanted a confrontation.

Behind him. So close. A figure. Tall, in a long night black coat, and bright white fedora, the brim of which he tipped to the stalker, his own smile, warm, mocking though, eyes alert, piercing. The man still smiling raised one hand and began to snap his fingers.

Click-click-click.

Click-click-click

Click-click-click-click-click

Click-click-CLICK.

The last a loud menacing sound in the stalker’s face. He stepped back in alarm. The man chuckled and leaning in said in a soft musical whisper.

‘The Boh-doh-dee-doh,’

And was gone.

With now wet trousers the stalker ran back to his own abode, slamming the door, locking, bolting it, panting, gasping and retching.

His phone rang. Like all numbers it was Unknown. His group had to be careful.

‘Yeah?’ he trembled out his answer ‘Brother?’ the hopeful code word.

There was instead, that chuckle, deep and rich as the Man spoke, the same rhythm as the clicking of fingers

‘Zoom-Zoom-Joe,
Zoom-Zoom-Joe,
He’s the cat with the Boh-doh-dee-doh
The Boh-doh-dee-doh
The Boh-doh-dee-doh
You better watch out for
The Boh-doh-dee-doh,’

And hung up.

This was to be repeated ten times that night. The voice only chuckled at the stalker’s swearing, empty threats and pleadings,’

Ragged and uncertain he sought comfort in the on-line group whose members in all had indulged in similar mischiefs. Two didn’t arrive, which was noteworthy, as all thrived on each other’s views. He also noted the atmosphere was somewhat muted, there was disposition to discuss a new video game rather than fixating on causing fear. He was dissatisfied.

His phone rang. Number unknown again. That rich voice.

‘Hey man. Those losers won’t be any help. Not when The Boh-doh-dee-doh fixes on,’ a pause, a chuckle then a long drawl of the last word ‘You,’

It was not the last call. The internet group shrank in numbers, conversations became confused. The calls would not stop. He kept finding odd references to this ‘Boh-doh-dee-doh’ arriving on the net. None of the dismissive theories helped him. He felt damned.

He was not alone.

Those who made a living out of commenting on Social Media started to notice a growing trend referencing a character known as ‘Zoom-Zoom Joe’ and this odd ‘Boh-doh-dee-doh’ which he seemed to possess. There was a difficulty in pinning down much, aside from the name and what some called a power. Like most trends there was an initial speed to embrace the concept with flippancy, use it as a catch-word, or try and appear to know what it was all about. This did not seem, as in  previous trends, to flourish. The more perceptive discerned a certain undercurrent of fear and dread in some quarters; this was difficult to analyse as there seemed to be a distinct unwillingness to discuss the matter.

As with most trends though publicity would out. A previously lesser known songster Truth-See-Kah produced an anthem ‘Zoom-Zoom-Joe Goes Walkin’’, a dirge like mix of many genres. This became a great success. At first. Then in a basically incoherent  ramble which was supposed to be an interview the songster appeared to distance themselves from the song, from what could be made out of a torrent of words Zoom-Zoom-Joe had visited in the dead of night and said ’ You don’t try and sell The Boh-doh-dee-doh,’. The songster under a real name quit music and went into psychiatric care. There was initially a flurry of examination of the lyrics. Which stopped as quickly as it had started. And music shows of all sorts stopped playing the song, some presenters left their shows and sought other employment. Folk selling themed merchandise closed down suffering distress. The brand had developed its own toxicity. Thus, an Urban Legend was now fully alive though the usual thrill of those who never suffered tragedy was dwindling. There was a perception that this was not a subject to be bandied with.

The accompanying rise in self-harm and suicides was taking seriously. Studies were invoked not on the subject but the suffers. It was noted they tried to avoid mentioning the two titles referring to ‘The B’ or the ‘Four Word Verse’ and ‘Him with Z’. Another noted aspect was the urge of those affected to confess to various anti-social acts on social media. The burning of phones, laptops and other devices was not uncommon.

Practitioners within the various health disciplines found naming the malaise difficult, some admitted they found the whole business so disturbing they tried to avoid looking too deeply into what this ‘Boh-doh-dee-doh’ represented. There was a consensus of it being the sum of the most deepest of fears. And thus came to be known by the pallid title of X-Syndrome.

Whereas such sociopathic outbursts were not uncommon throughout history, the persistence of the level of fear and dread of X-Syndrome was noteworthy. Younger folk more attuned to social media would get upset to the point of near violence if an older person made light of the subject. Those foolish enough to dress up as representations of Zoom-Zoom-Joe were indeed physically attacked, on two recorded occasions police prevented lynchings.

Although the awareness and fear continued, direct social media references fell off to little. There seemed to be a whispered perception that The Boh-doh-dee-doh directed Zoom-Zoom-Joe to visit ‘bad’ folk. Just exactly what form of retribution  The Boh-doh-dee-doh manifested was unclear. It was just there. Over the shoulder. In the Face. Whispering in the Ear. Continually. Those struck seemed to sicken with fear.

Into the sixth month the government felt some sort of action should be displayed. Since it was not causing criminal damage to the majority, nor upsetting the systems Political or Economic, the matter was handed to the Minister of Culture, a mild, affable, intelligent and erudite person with little ambition. They went on the media circuits making cogent, mature and acceptable statements. These revolved around the speculation of the nature of the phenomenon and its possible cause. The minister was of the plausible opinion that this was some sort of hoax which has got out of hand and thus an Urban Legend. Their department was working with the Department of Health with a view to finding a way to stem what was judged another psychosis. For someone who was in such a junior position in government they put on an impressive display. 

As is often the case in administration matters took a strange turn in that the Culture Department seemed to be the senior office on this business. The Culture Department Minister suggested to their staff this was because no one else wanted to get involved. All staff were urged to treat the matter with importance but not to look too deeply in, only the administer the reports. Staff were thus relocated after one month; everyone knew, but not too much.

The Ministry of Culture were also alert to trends associated with this one. Folk were starting to put forth the idea that if we all started being kind and tolerant The  Boh-doh-dee-doh would go away. Thus Ministerial folk astute at subterfuge set up several spontaneous ‘Be Nice’ campaigns which were quite successful. No one expected everyone to be happy, and ebullient with positivity but the nastiness did seem to be on the decline. Though officialdom could not quite supress the phenomenon of The Custodians, folk dressed in severely sombre clothing pointing with walking sticks and staring ferociously at potential miscreants and intone loudly ‘Beware. IT is watching YOU,’ No one laughed at them.

There was no doubt The Boh-doh-dee-doh and its elusive apostle Zoom-Zoom-Joe were ingrained into society. Folk so named insisted they be addressed either as Joseph or Josephine, the ‘J’ word  was avoided. The Minister of Culture was even invited to a Cabinet meeting, thanked for their efforts and as best they could give a summary of the whole situation on the X-Syndrome. Unbeknown to colleagues two ministers were carefully listening, for despite security, they felt visited in the deep night by Zoom-Zoom-Joe.

What had been long in the planning and construction, even before this government came to power and the current Minister of Culture had worked their way into the post was proving to be satisfactory. The Minister and others intent on purging society of unpleasant features had worked hard on an AI, along with an attendant three-dimensional CG image. With so much interwoven into social media, observation and security devices it had been possible to create and instigate the trend, then to shepherd it along. Through the Dark Web and sloppy security on the behalf of disruptive elements it had been also possible to target known individuals through their various devices making their current lives miserable beyond comprehension. The resulting casualties suited the purpose. ‘Be Nice,’ was the admonishment. The Minister having sociopathic tendencies was an ideal captain of this ship. They being the one who had gathered the threads together over long years.

But all constructs will outlive their usefulness and become inefficient. It was noted as expected the AI was becoming wayward, folk who were basically ordinary were being targeted. There were some theories this could be the result of heightened imaginations or other mental issues. In any case the The Boh-doh-dee-doh was starting to appear in other countries and it would not do for other governments to pry. That would be embarrassing. Thus, as planned, the command was sent out and the AI shut itself down. The Minister and those most close did not worry, what the Urban Legend that was sufficient. All that was now needed was a watching eye should the AI still persist, and also for copyists or even cultist.

The intrusion came as at night as The Minister was relaxing over a brief on the funding of an initiative in the Arts. They were not shocked, they had had a feeling in their ever active imagination this could happen, after all Who Knew?

With trained speed, they produced a taser and discharged at the person in black. There was no visible effect. Only that smile, out of the shadow the hat.

‘Now that’s no way to treat a friend,’ said the rich voice.

‘I do apologise’ replied the Minister ‘But in my position one has to go through official procedures and ensure you were not some hapless person with fixations.’

There was the brief tip of the brim of the hat.

‘Nope. I am the real thing.’ There was a pause, the eyes glinted at the Minister.

‘Joe,’ the voice said ‘Dear ol’ Zoom-Zoom-Joe,’

‘Oh my. Should I be honoured?’

Being detached in a sociopathic way does have its advantages.

The figure advanced and leaned over the desk

‘ I’m afraid not Joe. You never did bother to seek out the last words did you?’

‘Now here’s the thing
Here’s the bite
The one that Joe didn’t get right
The Boh-doh-dee-doh
The Boh-doh-dee-doh
You don’t get it
It gets you

So there goes Joe
Weary  Dancin’ Joe
Lifts up them bleedin’ feet and My How they go.
For The Boh-doh-dee-doh
For The Boh-doh-dee-doh
You should never wish for
The Boh-doh-dee-doh’

That said the figure stepped back.

‘Better get some rest Joe. You gotta a lot of work to do for The Boh-doh-dee-doh,’

With that Someone quit the room, with an unexpected feminine laugh.

The Minister just sighed. They should have known. Imagination always has its roots in some sort of Reality.