The old saying of " don't let the truth get in the way of a good story " is now pretty much the mantra of the Main Stream Media.
We are living in a time where so many have become the foolish young oysters eagerly walking with those that seek to consume us. The old oyster knew the trap was being set but could not do a damned thing to stop the massacre ahead.
It is clear to me, when reading the poem again after so many years, that the Walrus and the Carpenter were speaking rubbish, yet the young oysters hear without listening to the actual words and ignore the warning signs that everything the Walrus and Carpenter were saying was a sinister trick . As Simon and Garfunkel sang years ago “ They hear what they want to hear and disregard the rest. “
We are being asked to believe things that aren't true. We are being forced to do things we do not want to do. We are told to talk about cabbages and kings to distract us from what is really going on.
Back in 2019, Sir David Attenborough made a documentary - “ Our Planet “ - which featured a disturbing scene shot from an aerial view that shows Walruses plummeting off a 250 foot high cliff, apparently chased by Polar Bears. It seems that the Polar Bears chased them; or maybe it was because of receding sea levels; maybe they were hungry, had poor eyesight, couldn’t see that the water was a long way down……. Or maybe not.
Maybe it was because they were terrified by the overhead helicopter or plane from which the film crew aimed their cameras? Maybe they stampeded to their deaths in a futile effort to escape the monster overhead?
My money was on the more logical explanation that the stupid idiots in the chopper/plane caused the stampede and it made for a good bit of tragedy to sell the “ Climate Change, Global Warming, We are all going to die in 12 years “ narrative so beloved of the leftie greens.
Attenborough, a man I admired and respected for many years, has gotten to be as trustworthy as Dr Fauci when he said “ Trust me, I’m a Doctor. “
As is the case so much these days, we may never know what caused this tragic and horrific stampede to death. Or be allowed to know that it was the government and the media in overhead choppers urging people to leap over the abyss to their deaths?
RIP Kimberley Kitching
Though, I must admit to feeling quite confident that humanity's stampede of the cliff is not so much about creating good television, but more about culling the herd.
When I re read the poem “ The Walrus and The Carpenter “ by Lewis Carroll, I marveled at how this classic piece of “ nonsense “ now makes sense.
While people blindly listen to the MSM and the likes of Attenborough or Fauci, ( or most of our politicians and media ) our destiny is clear: not only will we be consumed by those we trusted, we will have thrown ourselves eagerly onto the bread that WE ourselves spread with butter, doused OURSELVES with vinegar and pepper and popped OURSELVES into their waiting open mouths.
Read the poem with this in mind and remember, The Time HAS come to talk of many things, but how about we drop the lies from Cabbages and Kings? And stop being told to talk about sealing wax?
The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright —
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.
The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done —
‘It’s very rude of him,’ she said,
‘To come and spoil the fun.’
The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead —
There were no birds to fly.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
‘If this were only cleared away,’
They said, ‘it would be grand!’
‘If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose,’ the Walrus said,
‘That they could get it clear?’
‘I doubt it,’ said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.
‘O Oysters, come and walk with us!’
The Walrus did beseech.
‘A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each.’
The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head —
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.
But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat —
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn’t any feet.
Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more —
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.
‘The time has come,’ the Walrus said,
‘To talk of many things:
Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —
Of cabbages — and kings —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
And whether pigs have wings.’
‘But wait a bit,’ the Oysters cried,
‘Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!’
‘No hurry!’ said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.
‘A loaf of bread,’ the Walrus said,
‘Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed —
Now if you’re ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed.’
‘But not on us!’ the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
‘After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!’
‘The night is fine,’ the Walrus said.
‘Do you admire the view?
‘It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!’
The Carpenter said nothing but
‘Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf —
I’ve had to ask you twice!’
‘It seems a shame,’ the Walrus said,
‘To play them such a trick,
After we’ve brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!’
The Carpenter said nothing but
‘The butter’s spread too thick!’‘I weep for you,’ the Walrus said:
‘I deeply sympathize.’
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.
‘O Oysters,’ said the Carpenter,
‘You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?’
But answer came there none —
And this was scarcely odd, because
They’d eaten every one.
