‘THE Last Chance Saloon’ was originally applied to bars in 19th century America where you could get a last drink before crossing the border into a state where alcohol was scare or banned. Today, with Covid, CBDC, Net Zero, mass surveillance, 15-minute cities and attacks on freedom of speech, we are indeed at that border, about to leave behind the last vestiges of our democracy and cross over to a totalitarian, merciless dictatorship. It’s up to us.
I want to focus on what I believe to be the most important take-out from all of this. Governments across the globe have tasted the thrill of Emergency Powers Acts, and they love it (the more accurate definition would be Unlimited Powers Acts). For let us be under no illusion. With an EPA, you can do anything, without recourse to your Parliament, let alone the people. Not just freeze bank accounts, but confiscate them altogether. Take your pick. Public executions, anyone? Well, it might be a deterrent to domestic terrorism, you know, like people protesting. Drastic measures are needed, for your safety and security. General Elections? Thing of the past. No time for such disruptions. Too many emergencies to deal with.
My only non-violent suggestion for avoiding all this is to smash the party system. The three main political parties are frequently referred to nowadays as the Uniparty, and with good reason. They all sing from the same hymn sheet, the lyrics of which have not been written by any of them, and the muzak a discordant, malevolent composition from an existential source. Like a Masonic oath, they are required to learn it all by heart and recite it on demand.
The party system never has been fit for purpose. MPs’ first loyalty is to their party, not to their constituency or the electorate. Hence the party whips. This turns every party politician, sooner rather than later, into a two-faced liar, required to vote against their conscience or the interests of the people they purport to serve. And therein lies the fundamental flaw: an existential influence of great power has a ready-made, hierarchical template to penetrate from the top, cascading influence and instruction down to the good and faithful servants who form the infrastructure of Parliament.
Naively, with hindsight, many of us thought, for a while, that the Brexit referendum had somewhat put the brakes on it. But it has, in reality, moved onwards and upwards. As vehement resistance to implementing the decision burgeoned, so false flags appeared for a while to counter it, but faded, I suspect, as they received offers they couldn’t refuse, with all that implies.
Today, Parliament is a shadow of its former self, having already left the Last Chance Saloon, turning itself from a debating chamber into a giant rubber stamp. Which is why it’s fruitless to imagine you’re going to change them. They have already departed, but their husks are still in charge. So here’s the thing. At the next, and potentially last, General Election, scheduled hopefully for late 2024, fire all three main parties simply by not voting for any of them. In a sense, it matters not who gets your vote, provided it’s not the Tory, the Labour or the LIbDem candidate. Loony Monsters, Biscuit Barrels if you wish, or one of the fringe parties if you must (though as a personal entreaty, please, not the Ghastly Greens).
Yes, if it succeeded, we’d end up with a motley crew of independents, eccentrics and fringe party members. Sounds like a breath of fresh air to me, and probably a better defence against the obscene globalist agenda. But if you get persuaded by the old trick of voting for the least ugly one in a three-baby competition, the Uniparty wins. Throw out all three with the bathwater, simply by voting against all of them.
I suspect it’s easier to get this concept across to typical TCW readers than it is to large swathes of the population who still don’t seem to comprehend that Parliament isn’t their friend. But if we’re convinced of this simple strategy, we each have just over a year to work on everybody else. They need to understand that we are truly all in this together, at the Last Chance Saloon, and the landlord is calling time.