Why keep going? My thanks to John and Jon.

When did your interest in politics first stir?

Typically if you didn’t come from a home of ‘Citizens’ or tub-thumpers, or dyed-in-the-wool Tories (in the UK) then politics didn’t touch you – except that we know it does, all day, every day, in every way. It’s an insidious thing politics.

I became aware of politics in the same way one might become aware of a brick left on the bedroom floor. I stubbed the toe in my mind’s eye on politics and had my eyes opened (once I’d removed the metaphorical toes).

The greater my awareness, the more uneasy I became. Didn’t anyone else see what was going on?

It became crystal clear that the system worked, and was worked, by those it worked for. That wasn’t people like me.

The system worked for the chosen few, and that few chose people to work the system on their behalf, and they were having a laugh at our expense.

My epiphany occurred in 2001.

So I wrote a document. Something like a manifesto, but unlike any manifesto I’d seen (I hadn’t seen any so I didn’t know what they were supposed to look like). I sent this document off to a jury of the 12 of the Great’n’Good.

Just one replied. John Cleese called me from LA.

He agreed with all I had to say, but regrettably couldn’t contribute. His kind words were as far from encouraging as they could be. British politics was “completely corrupt”. However, the fact he’d rung at all said something to me.

I’d love to pretentiously claim that I developed a trail-blazing political ideology that changed the world. I didn’t.

I made the same mistake that most people made. I tried to stitch my beliefs to another outfit. Not easy when you’re a political misfit. If I tried to go left I encountered people who wanted to shout at me about inequality when I’d had the courtesy to turn-up and give them my time. On the other hand, the Tory faction was full of Pied Pipers wanting to call the tune – or they’d take their instruments home.

One day I was watching The Daily Show and Jon Stewart said, “The system is broken, just like it was designed to be.”

That simple succinct statement restored my sanity.

The world was crazy. In the UK the Pied Pipers were protecting paedophiles… and the victims of child abuse couldn’t get justice en masse. There were a few pyrrhic victories but justice wasn’t closure.

The Powers that be, in Parliament wrote impenetrable laws that safe-guarded those who moved in their circles. The Monarchy were gifted additional laws of privacy so our suspicions about Charles, Diana and Andrew remained just that… suspicions. Amidst all the talk about the Magna Carta the Monarchy were above the law once more.

How can a society with such hard-won rights see them erased so easily?

Simple. A well-funded long-term strategy.

If a kid’s crying and being a problem or an embarrassment you give them a lolly.

‘We The People’ were given ‘Democracy’ on the basis that we could only vote for candidates from a very shallow gene pool. Over a few decades, the plan was to squeeze any fresh blood out, in favour of the Blue Bloods. The system would have to permit a few loose cannons, in order to satisfy those accustomed to being cannon fodder.

Any normal person entering the Hallowed Halls of Westminster would feel like a child sent before the Headmaster. All temples and edifices are designed to made the individual feel small. We are supposed to cower before power.

If we’re that one-in-a-million who doesn’t go weak at the knees, we can be cut off at the knees, or knee-capped. But if we were to break through and see with a beady practical eye that the edifice is crumbling, what would that tell us? The Powers That Be don’t need physical temples any longer. They can break us simply by denying us access to what’s ours – and it’s still ours by their leave. They can deny us access to our ‘money’.

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At this point, I’m not sure where this is going… the post, the blog or the entire idea of “Red Star Rising”.

All I know is… today when I questioned whether I have the will, or a voice, Jon Stewart entered the frame again. He used his platform to say something remarkable. He didn’t joke… his stock in trade. He didn’t launch a tirade.

He just quietly tapped his pencil as his mind fought to find the words… these words…

I honestly have nothing other than just sadness once again that we have to peer into the abyss of the depraved violence that we do to each other and the nexus of a just gaping racial wound that will not heal, yet we pretend doesn’t exist. And I’m confident, though, that by acknowledging it, by staring into that and seeing it for what it is, we still won’t do jack s—. Yeah. That’s us. And that’s the part that blows my mind. I don’t want to get into the political argument of the guns and things. But what blows my mind is the disparity of response between when we think people that are foreign are going to kill us and us killing ourselves. If this had been what we thought was Islamic terrorism, it would fit into our — we invaded two countries and spent trillions of dollars and thousands of American lives and now fly unmanned death machines over five or six different countries, all to keep Americans safe. We got to do whatever we can. We’ll torture people. We gotta do whatever we can to keep Americans safe. Nine people shot in a church. What about that? “Hey, what are you gonna do? Crazy is as crazy is, right?” That’s the part that I cannot, for the life of me, wrap my head around, and you know it. You know that it’s going to go down the same path. “This is a terrible tragedy.” They’re already using the nuanced language of lack of effort for this. This is a terrorist attack. This is a violent attack on the Emanuel Church in South Carolina, which is a symbol for the black community. It has stood in that part of Charleston for 100 and some years and has been attacked viciously many times, as many black churches have.

I heard someone on the news say “Tragedy has visited this church.” This wasn’t a tornado. This was a racist. This was a guy with a Rhodesia badge on his sweater. You know, so the idea that — you know, I hate to even use this pun, but this one is black and white. There’s no nuance here. And we’re going to keep pretending like, “I don’t get it. What happened? This one guy lost his mind.” But we are steeped in that culture in this country and we refuse to recognize it, and I cannot believe how hard people are working to discount it. In South Carolina, the roads that black people drive on are named for Confederate generals who fought to keep black people from being able to drive freely on that road. That’s insanity. That’s racial wallpaper. That’s — that’s — you can’t allow that, you know. Nine people were shot in a black church by a white guy who hated them, who wanted to start some kind of civil war. The Confederate flag flies over South Carolina, and the roads are named for Confederate generals, and the white guy’s the one who feels like his country is being taken away from him. We’re bringing it on ourselves. And that’s the thing. Al-Qaeda, all those guys, ISIS, they’re not s— compared to the damage that we can apparently do to ourselves on a regular basis. So our guest tonight is an incredible person who suffered unspeakable violence by extremists, and her perseverance and determination through that to continue on is an incredible inspiration. And to be quite honest with you, I don’t think there’s anyone else in the world I would rather talk to tonight than Malala. So that’s what we’re going to do. And sorry about no jokes.

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For the time-being I have nothing to add to that.

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