#24; Rorschach’s F1 Diary/Journal

This blog entry may not necessarily be my own opinions (to an extent) but I thought I’d do a bit writing in a similar style of the Rorschach character from the graphic novel Watchmen. Just imagine it over the course of the various news updates we’ve had in formula one’s politics mayhem over the past few months and perhaps try and immerse yourself in the dystopian context that Rorschach speaks from. It may be utter crap, it may be quite interesting, but I thought Id try something different. Do read on…

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Tabloids don’t shut up. Newsreaders spew out the crap. Frustration at it all. Everything is awful. Stories supposed to be kept hidden, words supposed to be shared privately, ideas no-one wants. What is Formula 1? Is it the pinnacle of motorsport? or is it a pawn’s game of manipulation, greed and the desperate human cockroaches in charge demanding their spotlight? I don’t know anymore. I don’t care anymore.

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Peace. Pease is merely a word intended to show neutrality, calmness, to be pure. Nothing’s pure in this. They say peace has been agreed, the smiles on the fat cats and the handshakes of the uneasy. Millions study their despicable words, spoken without an honest molecule of truth. Will it end, they ask. Will it finally be over? It can never be over unless changes are made. And I shall watch on with a dagger inside me turning at the progress of chaos being tortured upon the fans that make Formula 1. Sat there. Angry. Light flickering over my head at the lies. Constant lies. Regret everything? No. They regret nothing.

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A day is all it takes. Mosley stands out from the crowd and declares ‘They got it wrong.’ You got it wrong. Admit it. The problem is no-one wants to admit it. It’s all wrong and all we can do is look on at those that have made it wrong. They say anger is simply the last of our patience, the final emotion of our sanity. Anger is no emotion. Anger is everything the politics stands for within Formula 1. Frustration. Non-entities. Is it fate that we suffer for their crimes? Nothing we can say. Nothing we can do. Simply watching on whilst the leaders kill our sport. Despicable.

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Rorschach’s Diary, Wednesday 8th July 2009; A meeting occurs between the good and the bad. The teams from FOTA, the bosses from the FIA, the new guys in between. Words are said. Things are discussed. Opinions are clashed. The teams walks out, disgust, anger, revolt. The dust finally settled, they say? Not a chance. Looking on, I just see greed, I see injustice, I see many individuals crying out for their attention starved egos to be tendered for once more. Step aside, they tell him. Stand down, bring in the new blood. He simply laughs in secret, I know it. Power mad? Power hungry. There is nothing left. The words, the threats, the walkouts, constantly gouging away at that physical connection once adored and loved with everyone that loves the sport. Going. Going. Gone? They threaten a new born child to sprout from the polluted veins that choke behind the curtains of F1. Do we need it? Everything is wrong. Still.

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The future? I pay my respects. Formula 1. Established 1950, Guiseppe Farina being the first victor. The motorsport lives a life for 59 years. Senna. Fangio. Lauda. Schumacher. Moss. All those lives, all that success, souls destroyed and revived. Is this it? Is this where it ends? Conflict never ends until conflict is resolved. How can conflict end when resolution is beyond the horizon… compromise is impossible. So why is it impossible compromising? Perhaps it is time to admit it. The end is the beginning is the end.

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