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The dubious death of Jo Cox
If there’s anything that needs to be said about the death of Jo Cox, is the fact that the whole shebang is unbelievably tacky. The colours are garish and the lines are thick.
We are being presented with a black and white story that everyone over the age of 7 would recognize as unbelievably crass. Here’s the professional do-gooder labour MP< an angel in human form who spread compassion everywhere she went, as long as it was for a cause that is fashionable and profitable in the gilded charity industry. One of the people who are so good at wasting the donations of kind hearted Brits on receptions and conferences that are nothing more than mass ego patting sessions for people who contribute nothing to society but noise, an aid worker who never aided anyone but herself and whose compassion came with a pricetag- a glamorous houseboat on the Thames, a safe Labour seat and all of the perks that are guaranteed to a career handbag carrier of the high class Labour wives like Cherie Blair. Jo Cox had a lot of compassion for Syrian refugees and their children, conveniently ignoring that many of those who pretend to be children to get easier access to benefits in Sweden and Germany turned out to be adults, and criminals at that, but not one bit for the victims of the Rotherham Pakistani Muslim paedophile gangs or the poor girl from Halifax, 11 minutes from her own constituency , who had bene raped and abused for years by hundreds of men from the Muslim community.
Let’s not forget her equally professional do-gooder husband
who was ousted from a lucrative non job with Save The Children last autumn for inappropriate
behaviour towards female colleagues, and who’s main worry while his wife was
dying was to take to Twitter and use her fate for political gain by urging
everyone to continue her pro-immigration fight.
I don’t know about you, but unless you’re a high level sociopath? You
probably have bigger worries than tweeting after your wife got murdered.
We’re also being offered, as proof of his wickedness, that he had had a subscription to some obscure south African extremist magazine 10 years ago. Damning as hell except for the fact that this information was published before Jo Cox’s body was cold. Do the people from this “magazine” know everyone of their clients’ names by heart, especially those 10 years ago? And if they didn’t, why would anyone react at the news of the murder of a Labour MP by looking the killer’s name through their database?
And how does one make a gun in their household? It is possible, but let’s not forget this was a man who lived on benefits, and they aren’t generous. The books and supplies needed aren’t cheap.
Let’s also not forget that Thomas Mair sought mental health help the day before the murder. One has to wonder what happened to him and what turns a peaceful loner into a killer? What kind of influences?
Of course, seeing the moribund #remain campaign be reborn from Jo Cox’s blood was something to behold. Politicians who would have probably been reluctant to piss on her if she was on fire the day before flocked to take turns on riding her corpse for political gains. Both the Tories and the Libdems vowed to not contest the reelection for her seat making one wonder what kind of deals were made behind closed doors and why would anyone think the seat was somehow the property of a first term MP?
The results of Thursday show that the British public, with the infallible common sense of the working class, failed to fall for the ruse.
They also showed that £190 million per week is not too small a price for the life of a lowly Labour MP.
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