They’ve won, you know

It’s not possible for me to shake the feeling They’ve won. ‘They’ being a bunch of things. Firstly, there’s the State; the faceless men who write our laws, direct the police, and socially engineer the society they then control and milk – a society which will always and inevitably vote for its own destruction and rebirth.

Secondly, there’s you. You know who They are. You even, may your eyes rot in your empty head, support Them in Their endeavours. And you have become Them. You are They.

After all, They have promised safety.

And what kind of idiot doesn’t wanna drink that Kool Aid?

Me. I’m the kind of idiot who doesn’t.

Even the most casual observer will know the new motorcycle market continues its downward spiral. It’s bad. Ask anyone who works in the industry. How bad is it? Some marketing managers are hoping this is the new normal. Some are hoping its possibly bottoming out. Others think it’s going to get worse and it will never get better.

Motorcycling, it seems, is no longer the province of rebellious youth, delightful freaks in search of high-speed thrills, or steel-eyed road warriors grinding out the miles and sipping beer in far-off pubs.

Certainly, some of those road warriors and speed freaks remain. But their beards are greyer, their prescription chemicals are more crucial, and they just ain’t being replaced with younger versions of their kind.

Some of the blame for the downturn in new motorcycle sales can certainly be laid at the feet of stagnant wages growth, the casualisation of the workforce, and the feminisation of society. But a good part of it can also be attributed to the Them – the clero-fascist bastards who continue to rule us as if we were retarded children bent on mischief and misdeeds. Children who cannot possibly make any decisions for themselves, or be trusted to act responsibly, and who must instead be legislated into obedience so the only outlet of entertainment that remains to them is gambling.

Concerts? Music festivals? Ordering shots at a bar? Finding an open bar after midnight? Not a hope.
Getting on your crazy high-powered motorcycle and going for a death-dance on a deserted road where the only price to be paid for error is yours? Sure, that’s kinda remotely possible if your balls are large, your timing’s right, and Lady Luck is smiling at you. Otherwise be prepared to spend time in jail for doing 190 in a 100 zone on an empty road in the middle of nowhere if the police just happen to catch you.

Meanwhile, the rest of the world gets on with living the best life it can live and laughing at this pack of obedient slaves who were once citizens of a wonderful country called Australia.

Motorcycle sales are not down in Europe. They are up, in fact. Motorcycle sales are booming in the developing world. Things are more or less steady in the US, though it is showing the same trend we Downunder have not so much embraced as married in the last few years. And that trend is that riding motorcycles is an old peoples’ pastime. The kids just aren’t doing it.
I don’t blame them. Who the hell wants to spend four years riding a LAM in a fluoro vest? Who is stupid enough to subject themselves to a level of policing the envy of North Korea?

Us old people, that’s who.

But not all of us old people. Just some of us.

The rest are more than happy to make tut-tut noises each time they see a bloke on a bike doing something they consider unacceptable – like chucking wheelies, or riding very fast.

Piss on you, you disgusting old fascists. It’s precisely because of you motorcycling is in the state it is in. You’re the people who have happily accepted the police truncheon of compliance and servitude that’s been working its way between your bum-cheeks for decades. You think it’s a good thing to be policed the way we’re being policed. Because you actually believe you’ve been made safer.

You applaud the laws. You crave safety like dogs crave the shelter of their kennels.

Dante knew what you where when he passed into Hell…

“At once with certainty I understood
this was that worthless crew
hateful alike to God and to His foes.
These wretches, who never were alive,
were naked and beset
by stinging flies and wasps
​​that made their faces stream with blood,
which, mingled with their tears,
was gathered at their feet by loathsome worms.”

Even meek and mild Jesus hates people like you…

“I know your works; you are neither cold nor hot. I wish that you were either cold or hot. So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I am about to spit you out of my mouth.” (Revelation 3:14-16).

And I hate you too.

For it is people like you who are killing motorcycling.

Young people look at you old yellow curs on your bikes and they would rather catch trains than follow your lead to the Land of Safety.

Because there is no way back from that vile place.

And kids aren’t stupid.

 

By Boris Mihailovic

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