Join the new world

Owing to recent events in our fair (part) country, and the odd Friday night beer of six, I feel compelled to throw this maiden article out into the open.


First things first though, and I do forget my manners. I am one of The Returned, for those of you who can stand Channel 7. Once upon a time I played an alpha of a game called eRepublik. Using the way-back-when machine, I'd hazard a guess at 2008-09 or therabouts. There was no citizenship when I (quietly) rage-quit over how things were in the game. Probably helped by the fact that my work proxy decided to ban the site too...


Regardless, I have Returned! And behold! Things are just as shit as they used to be.


Having got the preliminaries out the way, I would like to share with you a poem. Yes, I know it is unorthodox to like poetry in the 21st century - sue me... This particular poem is by a Mr R. Kipling, and has helped many a person through tough times. Without further ado:





If—

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!




I do not, now, have a great deal to say. There remain some important small things. If you have made it this far, then a few more words won't kill you.



We do not deserve to be free any more than any other idiot with a keyboard and internet in this made-up world. IF (there's that word again) we want to be our own man, so to speak, we must stand or die ourselves.




I'm going to let that sit and percolate for a minute.



Sure, we may be saved by big brother Peru this week. Like we were saved by our cousin USA last month. But who will save us from ourselves tomorrow?



Perhaps my point has been too subtle. I will express myself in time honoured internet troll fashion. Your angry comments and flames are appreciated.



IF WE CANNOT WIN A SINGLE DIVISION BATTLE, WE WILL NEVER BE FREE.