Citizens! Wokedom: all tip and no iceberg? Or rather, is the iceberg – and it’s a big one – capitalism? Atop which Wokedom has positioned itself, a sensitive but ineffectual pointy bit? For as far as Ned can discern, the Missionaries Of Woke exhibit no desire, let alone have a plan, to institute an alternative …
Citizens! Beware of luxury? Fat chance. We humans have progressed to Post-Nature Darwinism : The Comfort Of The Greediest. While most of God’s other creatures – remnant old school survivors, with no utility – have hit their use by date. Sorry, Jan. Gotta love the industrial revolution. Check her shoes! That’s all for now. …
Citizens! History has not paid due respect to Jenny Marx. Not remotely. Forty years of marriage to Karl? Seven children, only three surviving to adulthood? Exile? Poverty? Squalor? The English? Mrs Marx’s courage, loyalty, and forbearance needs must be celebrated. To which end, Ned has composed a musical tribute: “Song For Jenny Marx.” As recorded …
My name is Edward Ludd. Or Ludlum. Or Ludlam. Ned. I am also known, in machine-breaking circles, as King, General, and Captain Ludd.
I was born, so I am told, of indistinct parentage, sometime, somewhere, in and around Leicester.
A skilled weaver by trade, my livelihood was destroyed by machinery which required so little skill it could be operated by children. And was. For pitiful wages. In foul conditions. Day and night. For a machine does not eat or sleep.
Thus the mill owner grew rich at my expense.
Seeing my way of life, and so my family, destroyed, I resolved to cause trouble and thereby bring notice to my plight.
Residing in Sherwood Forest, I caused trouble in Nottinghamshire. Thence, travelling extensively, I caused trouble in Derby, in the West Riding of Yorkshire, and in Lancashire.
I found many people in similar destitution, of like mind, to cause trouble with me.
We will not rest. Our numbers grow. If justice be not done, if working folk be naught but a disposable commodity, we will cause trouble forevermore.
I am told that, nowadays, even our graves are dug by machine.
A soul will not rest in a hole dug by machine.
Remember: Cause trouble. And teach your children well.
*thankyou, Eric Hobsbawm
No correspondence will be entered into. Think it through.