Post truth

Politics has probably always been the art of conning the masses into believing something that rarely stands up to the facts. Come the time for an election (or referendum for that matter) the claims to shoot for the moon abound… anyone in the UK might remember a certain red bus with £350 million on the side? Anyone in the USA might remember how the Mexicans were going to pay for a wall to keep them out?

night-cannon-moon

We have plumbed new depths for claiming that our values and feelings are actually facts. Why, just the other day while the Bluebirds were shooting for the moon (well, they hardly have sight on goal) it became apparent that the moon was presenting an elusive target… is this evidence that it was actually shifting back and for across the sky?

moon-shooting

But nothing resembles the new ‘post truth‘ better than the home fans chant of:

“And it’s Cardiff City,

Cardiff City FC,

By far the greatest team in football,

the world has ever seen.”

If you are part of the tribe, and you listen to it long enough, you might just begin to believe. Though the second half siege that Aston Villa laid on the Cardiff defence would surely cast doubts in even the most deluded of minds. Juno certainly had a sceptical look whenever this chant was presented as an interruption to feline ablutions. “Lick this Luciano!” was the most likely refrain…

lick-your-own

Until we speak again, the final score was Cardiff City 1 Aston Villa 0. Perhaps that ‘post truth‘ chant had a scintilla of foundation to it. But then, maybe Brexit & Trump will be good for us all as well!? Next time: pigs will fly over the Cardiff City Stadium!

 

Cats for a new dawn

thinking-catBella was often to be found in deep  contemplation. Could it have been a fretfulness for so-called hard Brexit’s yet to be? Maybe it was a fear of any game that involved a Trump card! Or, was she simply playing over in her mind a favourite feline chase, involving the exposing of claws to greedy bankers scurrying about the floor before her.

Whatever the source, it always seemed like she was in a mood for change. As a deaf bag of tumours, she had the full on experience of being one of life’s strugglers, for whom the promised bounty had found its way into the pockets of others… the chosen few.

A very same mass desire for change has equally gripped the deluded followers of a certain local football team. When you find yourselves bouncing along the bottom of your league, you quickly resort to emotional affectation underpinned by a complete lack of evidence or sound judgement. Collectively, you become a herd of cats in search of a new dawn. The banners are dusted off, and the gladiators take to the field before an inflated audience, many drawn to a one-off experience of the bogof (buy one get one free) variety.

city-v-bristol-city

Until we speak again, a new manager and new players arrive, and the tale of unexpected cauldrons produces a Cardiff City 2 Bristol City 1 scoreline, enough to bring tears of joy to the emotionally impoverished Bluebirds witnessing the first goals scored at home by someone in blue this season. Just don’t start believing in a new dawn just yet, with Brexiteers’ and Corbynistas’ already laying claim to the realisation of the activists dream, some things come in three’s… so the 8th November in a certain gun-toting nation could yet make The Exorcist look like Mary Poppins! As for Warnock’s wonders…?