In praise of direct democracy

Talismans from the past are rare but still to be found, especially at the old Posthotel. Faded bleached photographs of horse-drawn sleds on Main Street, long-bearded peasants chopping wood on the Eggli, even skiers walking up mountains in knee-deep snow before ski lifts were invented. Is there anything more precious than old photographs?

Killjoy conversation topics such as the size of chalet indoor swimming pools, botulinum toxin fillers, even discussions about gender are now registered on those horrible modern contraptions called smart phones. It is the new reality and there’s nothing one can do about it. Mind you, there are worse things in life than discussing fillers, facelifts and detransitioning, and I have recently experienced them by having spent three months in the Bagel.

Never mind. Solipsism-à-la-Meghan is now the American way, oscillating between narcissism and self-interest. Everyone’s on the make over there, and if one’s dumb enough to read the Bagel Times, Britain and her royals are responsible for all the horrors of the past. Brits are to blame for Africans killing each other non-stop a generation or two, or three, after independence, and Brits should pay reparations for having enslaved and later developed Caribbean isles. The one that made me laugh the most was a Bagel Times review of Meghan’s Netflix extravaganza, which describes the ‘heartbreaking’ spectacle of a tearful Meghan confiding in her bodyguard about the failure of her best efforts to fit in.

Thank God no one reads such rubbish here in Gstaad, or if they do they won’t admit it. A valid New Year’s wish is for these mendacious Bagel Times hacks to be forced to recite the Barrack-Room Ballads by heart while genuflecting under Nelson’s column. Again, never mind. Good old Helvetia, a country least blessed with physical resources, has come to be among the wealthiest and most successful nations on earth.