Back To “Judgment”
It was a sunny Sunday afternoon, of those that reconcile you with life in England. Walking toward the underground station after seeing some friends, I was walking in one of those elegant squares with the cafes/brasseries where most people (including yours truly) cannot afford to eat.
On the pavement in front of one of these elegant brasseries, a shocking sight was attracting the attention.
The most shocking, most disgusting person I have ever seen (read this again: it's not an exaggeration) was talking animatedly on his mobile phone. He was a frightful sight. Extremely thin and extremely pale, his hollow and cadaveric face screamed “drug addict”. He was dressed not only like a faggot, but like a faggot who wants to look as disgusting as possible; an über-faggot, so to speak.The most shocking detail was his hair, that was cut in a sodomitical fashion at the front but extremely short at the back, up to the top of his skull, as if with the intent of looking as repulsive as possible. Thinking back, one believes that there are people out there who eat shit.
I admit that I have lived a rather sheltered life, and am proud to say I saw my first drug addict at nineteen, remaining shocked the rest of the day. But now I am over fifty, and the like of that wreck I had never seen; not in the underground of Frankfurt or Berlin, and not in many years of Greater London.
It was truly shocking. It was like seeing one who was living in the midst of excrements, and insisting in showing all his degradation to the world. He did not see the scared or disgusted faces of the customers of the cafe (most Brits are such that they would look elsewhere if in the sight of him), and I think after a long experience of such faces he probably did not care anymore how people looked at him. As he was talking animatedly, in an alarmed and whining way, people like me (who do “judging” a lot, because they have a brain and refuse to switch it off; macht nichts, I couldn't become Pope anyway) could not avoid thinking this was a male prostitute in a very advanced state of drug addiction suddenly informed that his client was gone, and his fix with him; or something of such like, edifying nature.
As it happens when one sees a shocking sight, my brain started to pose questions: how is it possible that a human being reduces himself in such a state; what would be the trauma of a child confronted with such a revolting spectacle; how many people have seen this man drowning and have said nothing; is he truly responsible for reducing himself in such a state. The answers that kept coming to my mind were “very probably drugs”, “a great one”, “probably very many” and “without the shadow of a doubt”.
Each one of those answers would be, methinks, worthy of a blog post. Here, I'd like to dwell on the third one.
When I was a child, we were not confronted with such people. Drug addicts were certainly there, but the freedom to do and leave whatever one wanted without fear of reprisal was just not there. A person going on the street in broad daylight dressed in such a way would have had children throwing stones at him (the less impressionable ones; those who torture cats, for example), the police stopping and harassing them, and in general a total societal refusal. This chap could obviously reduce himself in that state, because a society that does not dare to “judge” will never have a harsh word for anyone, much less a pervert. The perverted illness of the man also shows the moral bankruptcy of a society that allows (stupid) people to sink in such pits of abjection without offering more than the usual tolerance, inclusiveness, and obligatory niceness.
In a morally ordered society, you don't see such people on the street, shocking even adults. They would be forced to dress differently, to behave differently and, to an extent, to think differently. All this will, of course, never completely eradicate sexual perversion, or drug use. But an ordered society will make what is in its part to at least create unfavourable conditions for such behaviour, and to help the stupid and weak not to stray through a ruthless process of societal control; that is, well, “judgment”.
No, I will not close my eyes to reality and say to myself “perhaps he wasn't a disgusting faggot, just a chap with an extravagant taste”, or “how can you say he was a drug addict? Perhaps he had merely slept badly”, or the worst of them all, the one that helps people to become faggots or drug addicts if so inclined: “who are you to judge?”.
I am so fed up with a rotten society so proud of its illness. I have the pockets full of this “non-judgmental” society positively helping people to kill themselves. I am sick and tired of a world that ridicules one for mentioning the fear of the Lord, but positively helps idiots like the one above to kill themselves slowly, and possibly not even so slowly, and damn their soul in the process.
In pure Un-Francis (the Bishop, not the Saint) style, expect a lot of “judgment” on this blog whenever scandal is given and the stupidity of the modern heathen society must be exposed.
We are all sinners, and this was always so. But in more intelligent times people understood the difference between private weakness and public scandal, took care not to upset the children (and the adults), enforced a code of proper conduct with great energy, and would have laughed at the politically correct crap of our times.
I know, the Bishop of Rome disagrees. Who is he to judge? Well he is a disgraceful, scandalous Pope, and I for one am the one to say it out loud. Feel good with yourselves by insulting me, the reality on the ground remains.
More non-judgmental people means more people helped to become like the human wretch of this post. Their own fault in the end, no doubt, but we as a society must discourage them as forcefully as we can instead of letting them sink, and probably go to hell, because we want to feel good with ourselves.