As I mentioned before, I actually enjoy going to the movies, even though my primary goal is the same as in reading romances: just disconnect from the reality and fry my non-existent brain cells some more. Add to this the fact that I am very much a chicken, meaning I really do not like to see gore and violence in surround sound, and my choice of movies becomes extremely limited. Anyway, to make a long story a bit shorter, the last movie I watched before the one mentioned in this story was the fourth Harry Potter. Basically, I was pretty much movie deprived: no time, no money, nothing showing I want to watch when I have time or money, etc. So, finally, somewhere in the fall, I finally made my way to the movie theater to watch "Stardust".
I enjoyed that particular cinematic experience, even with the usual protracted battles towards the end and the usual for our wonderful times addition of a fierce pirate captain who ended up being a cross-dresser. Basically, the whole shebang was worth my ten bucks, but that is not the main point of this story. Dork that I am, I usually enjoy the previews as well: either I know ahead what to look forward to, or, more often, what not to look forward too; this time, one of the previews was for "Elizabeth:The Golden Age."
Now, in my personal opinion, Cate Blanchette is a pretty decent actress, but Elizabeth she is not, nor is Clive Owen a believable Sir Walter Raleigh. Hollywood is also very rarely accused of historical accuracy, and I am sure this movie was not an exception. All in all, this would not be the one motion picture I would run to watch, but that preview left an impression on me. It was Elizabeth's exclamation "by god, England will not fall while I am queen!" that made me remember why I admire her so much.
I remember my history professor, who, of course, was a feminist, pointed out to us that Elizabeth's reign was an ultimate irony on her dear Daddy. What she did not mention and what the sick lesbians from NOW, who presume to speak to and for all women, will never acknowledge was that her life was actually a personification of feminist's dream. Just think about it: her birth itself was a disappointment to her father since she was not a boy; her mother was executed on the false charges of treason before Elizabeth's third birthday; she was largely ignored by her father; she was accused of treason and thrown in the Tower by her own sister! Sufficient grounds for spending the rest of her life on the analyst's couch, wouldn't you agree?
When she became queen at the ripe old age of twenty five, the country was basically in shambles: impoverished, torn by religious strive, and in danger of being conquered by much stronger enemies. At the time of Elizabeth's death England was strong, prosperous, and undefeated master of the sea; in short, according to many historians, she was the best monarch in English history. Bess not only survived in the men's world against unbelievable odds; she was the best ever man (sorry, woman) for the job!
Elizabeth was smart, highly educated (probably more well-rounded than the professors at Teacher's College who think that studying Shakespeare is superfluous and outdated), and a brilliant politician. People who specialize in her biography like to point out that she was strong and strong-willed, but not mulishly stubborn: she surrounded herself with capable advisers to whom she listened very carefully (and whom she always rewarded for their faithful service to the Crown); but, most importantly, she genuinely loved her country and her people. "England will not fall while I am queen": to her being the queen and wearing the crown was first and foremost a sacred duty from Heaven; a moral obligation to dedicate her life to her country and her people. I am not trying to romanticise the second part of the sixteenth century, but, considering our extremely jaded times and the idiotic circus usually surrounding any kind of political elections, how many politicians have that kind of vision for their role?
While I was reminiscing about Bess, I also started remembering my general admiration for Albion. In my opinion, there is no coincidence that United States emerged from the English colony: the ideas of "life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness" as "unalienable rights... endowed by the Creator" could only come from the country of Magna Carta. In the course of the centuries, especially in the view of this and the preceding generations' general disregard and, in some instances, the re-writing of history, people either have no inkling of what Magna Carta was, or they view it as nothing more than the landlord/tenant squabble. Overall, English history usually gave a "vibe" of limited monarchy and admirable politicians like Edmund Burke (yes, I know he was Irish); Brits were in the forefront of the industrial revolution (and personal freedom in that case was as important as the presence of working grey matter); they almost single-handedly defeated Napoleon, and were the only European country to offer any kind of serious opposition to the Nazis (geography can be blamed for this, but only up to a point). On the lighter note, I personally love their dry wit and their "classical" writers are the only ones whose books do not promote the general air of depression; but, again, that is a deeply subjective and very personal opinion.
Alas, their glory days were gone the minute they voted Churchill out of the office. Once the Nazis were defeated, Brits decided to embrace socialist ideas, and the rest, pardon the pun, is history. Now a days, they are overrun by Muslims and pacifists; the situation deteriorated to a point where Archbishop of Canterbury openly proposes to incorporate sharia law into the law of the land and, as a side note, the British flag was removed from Heathrow airport, because the compilation of three patron saint crosses, which basically comprise the English flag, were apparently very offensive to the Muslims. That is after English were subjected to the tender mercies of the Muslim terrorists, with more and more plots constantly being uncovered. What gives? So, my personal conclusion was that that country is basically finished, and it is only a matter of time before it becomes official; and as much as I love Margaret Thatcher, Jo Rowling and Helen Fielding (different kettle of fish, I know), they are not going to save the situation much. That is, until I accidentally stumbled on the article about Stewart Dimmock.
Since it is a save guess that very few people in this country heard about him, let me just summarise it briefly. Dimmock was a school governor and a father of two who protested the indoctrination of the two said children and thousands of others into the very popular church of global warming. As Joseph Farah very nicely put it, Dimmock did not want his kids tortured by Al Gore and his "Inconvenient Truth". Even though the case resulted in the decision of allowing that masterpiece of cinematic wonder and political dissent to be shown in schools, there are two major caveats: number one, any teacher showing that tripe to his or her students is obligated to point out all the major mistakes made (if memory serves right, there are seven of them); and, number two, a mere mortal went against Al Gore and got his say! Of course, all the enviros here, when recounting this episode, start by pointing out that Dimmock is just a truck driver (or lorry driver, as they say across the pond). All I can say to this is: hurray for this lorry/truck driver! He had the guts and determination to try and protect his children by going against the powerful government machine and even more powerful political establishment! I, of course, do not know his family tree, but I would like to think that the blood of his probable ancestors who fought Napoleon and Hitler boiled in his veins and gave him the courage to fight. Who knows, maybe, just maybe, more people will wake up and try to protect their country and the future generations of that country. And maybe at Heathrow, just a few miles away from where Elizabeth is buried, Union Jacks will proudly fly again.
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