Patriot Realm

What is in the soap? A load of suds dressed up in a pretty box that are nothing but bubbles of bloody air.

Are the Greens and Left feeding us a pile of soapwash dressed in pretty boxes?

Yes

When I was a young girl, about 10 or so, I went on a school trip. It was a most exciting thing to contemplate – 10 days away from home and off to experience a life of independence, adulthood and a chance to spread my young wings.

Several days before our departure on this school excursion in to the wilds of the unknown yet wondrous depths of self exploration and joy, I was with my parents in a local supermarket, buying groceries and food for the fortnightly shop. ( as was the custom in those days when one lived in the place called “ the country”. )

Then, in that supermarket, I saw it: a bar of soap.

It was 1965 and was probably one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. It was a bar of Palmolive soap, in a wondrous box, festooned with images of beautiful women with silky smooth complexions.

I had to have that bar of soap.

I begged my parents to let me have it. I wanted it so badly. The box was so pretty and the smell so wonderful. But it was expensive.

My Mother said “ Yes “ My Father said “ No.”

I recollect the argument and my Mother said “ let her have it. “ It was a tense moment. Dad, with an indulgent smile, agreed.

The bar of soap went in to the trolley.

Then I said the worst thing I could possibly say.

I looked at my Father and said “ haha I win! “.

My mother put that bar of soap back on the shelf so fast that I barely caught my breath.

I went from hero to zero in two seconds flat because of my words.

It has taken me many decades to realise that this was one of the most pivotal moments in my life.

Life is a bar of soap. Beware of falling in love with the packaging and never forget that it is still a ONLY bar of soap that “ they “ are selling you.

It was never the soap that I fell in love with. It was the packaging.

And my Mother and Father knew that. That episode taught me a valuable lesson.

It was. After all, only bloody soap.

I was angry and contrite and sad.

I went on the school trip and when I unpacked my suitcase, I found the box of soap. It was the one I wanted so badly.

It smelt lovely and looked so very pretty but, over 50 years later, I can still remember looking at that bar of soap and feeling guilty.

The magic had gone. The moment I said to my Father “ haha I won.” I lost.

Life is not about winning. It is not about being good or bad or right or wrong. It is about knowing that you did the right thing.

As a kid, I did the wrong thing.

I worry that many Politicians today are selling the packaging but DISGUISING the contents of the package.Bottom line, they are selling  duds, suds and scum. Under the guise of so called Cimate Change, Same Sex Marriage, bloody rights for refugees or more money for corrupt so called charities to rip off the People - I suspect that my Mother would taken them out of the grocery trolley and put them back on the shelf. 

Strip away the packaging, many countries are getting given a bar of soap in a very attractive box.

My concern is, what is in the soap? Is it to make us smell better or is it to make us smell less?

No matter how the left wrap the soap and package it – whether it be with pictures of pretty women or pictures of horsemen from hell riding in with messages of doom, the box means nothing. It is what is in the box that counts.

The left try to wrap the soap and market the same product in different boxes, but the soap still remains the same.

All those years ago I learned to ignore the packaging and look at the soap.

But what is in the soap? A load of suds dressed up in a pretty box that are nothing but bubbles of bloody air.

Are the Greens and Left feeding us a pile of soapwash dressed in pretty boxes?

Yes.

BUT, BUT, BUT… how many of us are being taking in by the pretty box? Not as many as the left would like us to think. Do we believe this pretty box and packacking?

Like my late Dad would have said “ I don’t bloody think so “