“It does not do to rely too much on silent majorities…

for silence is a fragile thing, one loud noise, and its gone.

Noise is relative to the silence preceding it.

The more absolute the hush, the more shocking the thunderclap.

Our masters have not heard the people’s voice for generations,

and it is much, much louder than they care to remember.”

Alan Moore (V for Vendetta)

The Rabbits Who Caused All the Trouble

From: “Fables for Our Times”
by James Thurber © 1940

The great James Thurber once wrote a series of incredible “Fables for Our Times”.
The tale below is one of my all time favourites and it is scary that it is so universally true that it becomes prescient.
My aunt Shiva first introduced me to his writing when as a small child then, she used to read from his works for me at bed time.
She was the person that engendered in me a love of literature and all things related to thinking and learning.
She encouraged curiosity about all things in me and I can never thank her enough.

Within the memory of the youngest child there was a family of rabbits who lived near a pack of wolves. The wolves announced that they did not like the way the rabbits were living. (The wolves were crazy about the way they themselves were living, because it was the only way to live.)

One night several wolves were killed in an earthquake and this was blamed on the rabbits, for it is well known that rabbits pound on the ground with their hind legs and cause earthquakes. On another night one of the wolves was killed by a bolt of lightning and this was also blamed on the rabbits, for it is well known that lettuce-eaters cause lightning. The wolves threatened to civilize the rabbits if they didn’t behave, and the rabbits decided to run away to a desert island. But the other animals, who lived at a great distance, shamed them, saying, “You must stay where you are and be brave. This is no world for escapists. If the wolves attack you, we will come to your aid, in all probability.”

So the rabbits continued to live near the wolves and one day there was a terrible flood which drowned a great many wolves. This was blamed on the rabbits, for it is well known that carrot-nibblers with long ears cause floods. The wolves descended on the rabbits, for their own good, and imprisoned them in a dark cave, for their own protection.

When nothing was heard about the rabbits for some weeks, the other animals demanded to know what had happened to them. The wolves replied that the rabbits had been eaten and since they had been eaten the affair was a purely internal matter. But the other animals warned that they might possibly unite against the wolves unless some reason was given for the destruction of the rabbits. So the wolves gave them one. “They were trying to escape,” said the wolves, “and, as you know, this is no world for escapists.”

Moral: Run, don’t walk, to the nearest desert island.

Are Iran’s Diaspora Doing More Harm Than Good?

Iran is once more on the cusp of radical change,
politically, socially and most hopefully clerically.

A note at the outset. I have not posted on this blog for a very long time indeed, but I felt that this issue was one that really needed pointing out. I have met a few, hell I am related to some, of the California Iranians, so I know how a good number of them think, and more importantly how desperately rosy their view of Iran under the monarchy is.

As an Iranian who left the country a few years before the revolution I am shocked to see more and more diaspora Iranians turning to the former crown prince and the extreme right in the west for support. Much to my dismay I see them proudly posting images and reports about how Ted Cruz or worse still Donald Trump have given the movement their support. All this while I’ve also seen some Iranians posting outright lies about the Biden administration and attacking the Democrats with false accusations of all kinds.

I see the Iranians abroad forgetting our national history, our relationship with the right wing in the US and UK and other western nations, how they never did anything but harm the interests of the average citizens of Iran in their hunger for the country’s resources and it’s strategic importance for the control of the Middle East.

They have forgotten that every Western politician and leader in the past nearly hundred or so years who ever paid attention to Iran was there simply to exploit and manipulate the country for their own profit and gain. And always at the dire cost of Iranian independence and freedom.

In thousands of years of history only once and for a comically short period the country managed to have a democracy. The Premiership of Mohammad Mosaddegh between the yeas 1951 to 1953 were the first and only time the nation actually took control of its own government. It was a true first, though not perfect, nevertheless it was a good start.

But in less than three years the US and UK governments and their agents brought back the Shah from exile on their tanks, enforcing the democratically elected government to capitulate. The Anglo Iranian Oil Company (now BP) and other oil conglomerates from the West sponsored this tragic destruction of the first glimpse of democracy in Iran.

Now some seventy odd years later the diaspora, especially the rich and privileged Iranians in the US are drumming up support for the return of the Monarchy and trying to promote the idea that the former crown prince Pahlavi only wants freedom and democratic rule for Iran. How naive or perhaps deliberately callous are these people?

The Iranian struggle now is a grass roots struggle as far as we on the outside can see. Its champions are the women of Iran and their supporters, the youth, musicians and other artists, academics and intellectuals as well as most importantly the “common” folk. These people are out on the streets risking everything to overthrow the Islamic dictatorship. From what I read they have already gained the support and sympathy of a good proportion of the top clergy in the country. All they need is the support and understanding of the rest of the world to continue. It is patently obvious that a democratic and free Iran would be much more likely to sit around the table with the rest of the world and take once more its place amongst the nations of the world. This could only be beneficial for the whole world. Iran has historically been one of the most influential cultures on the planet. The country’s contribution to world culture is immeasurable and historically massive. It deserves to be once again the vital and energetic civilisation that it has always been.

The diaspora; if their intentions are true and they have not sold out to Western interests; is at the very least tragically delusional, misguided and naive.

Iran’s activists and citizens need to be supported and to be given the lion’s share of control over the destiny of the country.

Democracy and freedom, not monarchy and more foreign exploitation are the only way forward.

In answer to the title here I have to say “YES” they are definitely doing a great deal more harm than good, and they should stop and read some Iranian history before setting in motions another long phase of exploitation and tragedy in Iran.

Long live the Iranian uprising and all my best wishes go to them.

A Reign Of Terror

There is an overwhelming body of evidence that we are fast approaching a new phase of terror in the west. If one were to look closely at the growing number of reports about a full return to ethnocentric and racial politics, under the guise of patriotism and love of nation, or to look more closely at the way in which highly motivated political groups on the extreme right are mushrooming all over the world, then it becomes crystal clear that we are under siege from the extremist elements of our society worldwide.

Here, where I live in Greece, the movement known as Golden Dawn have been making ever greater inroads into the seats of power and influence over the last few troubled years. The economic climate, the insecurity of a Union of nations on the brink of collapse, the rise and rise of Germany as a central, bullying power in the heart of Europe, not to mention the imminent dissolution of Spain, Portugal, Ireland and possibly Italy into chaos have all bolstered the idea that the continent is in full tail spin and will with the slightest push descend into total chaos.

Is the rest of the World finally paying attention?

I, and many others like me, have been desperately reporting the murderous growth of Nazism in Greece for quite some time now. But what has been a great shock and disappointment to those of us who think about these things has been the almost blanket silence on the issue in the press and media here and worldwide. Yes there have been a few meagre reports and references to “extreme right wing movements” here and there, a few lukewarm point-of-interest reports about the growing and expanding vicious attacks by the Golden Dawn (often not even mentioned by name) on immigrants in foreign press and media. Almost all reports so far have been in the context of Greek incompetence and botched government, endemic corruption and financial crisis. All reports seem to be made as a sideline to illustrate yet another example of how awful Greece is, not as a serious socio-political tragedy in the making. No one seems to have paralleled this, as I and a few other independents like me have, with the historical rise of Fascist and Nazi movements in Europe only a few short decades ago.

For this reason I am very pleased and made to feel a little ray of hope by the appearance and content of this article in the British Independent newspaper.

I can not emphasise strongly enough how essential and true what Laurie Penny says in this article is.

If the rest of the world continues to ignore the situation here, we will be facing another re-enactment of 1938 -9 in Europe. I don’t really think anyone would consider the prospect of another World War with any relish. Or would they?

Please read this and spread the word.

We need to see a saturation of this kind of analysis in the hopes that the international political community will be embarrassed into taking some form of definite action on this vitally dangerous situation. It is my belief that unless a concerted national and international effort is made to stanch this gaping and bleeding wound in the very flesh of democracy, it will bring about the death of freedom in Greece.

It is way past time for action against the Nazis. NOW. Later would be too late.

Murder

Our friendly neighbourhood Nazi thugs just took up their hatred one notch further up the scale.

They have now murdered a youth for being different to them, for being from a different race. Mark this, not because of something he did, or that he was aggressive, or causing them danger.

No. A motorised group of them were out hunting for any foreign face walking the streets alone, so they could beat the hell out of them… Or as it turned out murder them.

The Iraqi youth died yesterday after several stab wounds to his body.

Interestingly the Greek TV channel Alpha in reporting it said something like:

“Although we have heard of many such incidents in other countries, this is the first time we have seen this kind of thing in Greece”!!!

So I guess the months of severe beatings, vicious attacks, threats on foreign shops and businesses, terrorising the migrant communities, ominous promises of “Cleaning the streets of the city of the filth”, campaigns for denying medical care to all non-Greeks, and all the other horrors that have been suffered by immigrants are nothing to get excited about.

Name the criminals now. This will only get worse unless there is real punishment for those who commit such acts of horror.

A Kind of solution

I have been writing and posting all over the place, broadcasting, at times apocalyptically, about the rise and rise of the extreme right in the West, and specifically in Greece in the light of developments over the recent period of intensification in the travails of this country, and this continent of Europe in general.

Tremseh Massacre

Syrian Air Force gunships and army tanks slaughter an estimated 220 people, mostly civilians in the village of Tremseh, in the Hama region of the country.

The world disapproves, but it seems goes on folding its hands in inaction. How bad does it have to get there before the rest of the world stops tutting and actually helps the opposition?

The UN is monitoring the situation though, so I guess everything is alright…

Drowning in Democracy

A key prerequisite of the exercise of Democracy is an informed, well educated populace, armed with the tools needed to analyse and dissect received information.

There is no other way to sift through propaganda and lies to clear the way for informed, wise democratic decision making in the choices we make for those who will be granted the power of government over us.

Yet statistics seem to tell us that our level of general education is on a continuous decline.

Where does that leave Democracy?

Swimming in the Ocean of Information

The Information Age is what we are supposedly living in.

We are in effect of the genus HOMO INDICINA.

But we’re often mislead by this word ‘Information’.

Information is many things.
Information can be almost anything.
Information is what it is.

But to be of any use the one thing it needs to be is FACT.

Unfortunately information is not obliged to be fact.
At its best it is no better than opinion and prejudice.
At its most insidious it is pure propaganda.

Secure the Rooftops (an aside)

I am just looking at the public response to the “missiles on roofs” plan and the tepid response of Londoners to this remarkable scheme!
Their reactions are of this ilk: “Would this not make my home a target for terrorists?” and worse still “will I lose my property insurance because of this?”…
How stupid are people?
And who neutered British political thinking? And when exactly?
Doesn’t anyone know what it means firing high velocity rockets in the middle of a residential area? Or detonating anything over a city?
They are at best worrying about the presence of these rockets making them more of a target!!!!
A target for whom would be a logical first question! I would posit the very likely scenario that some inexperienced and trigger happy squaddie would let one off, and cause what we so quaintly call “Friendly” casualties and property destruction, long before any Bin anything can pose any kind of a threat.
There is no reason to believe that there will be any aerial attempt on London from what I have read so far. And yet they are justifying this multi-million pound stupidity by saying that it is all “for our protection”…
Oh that old chestnut! Again…

Defence of the Realms

Interesting times we live in.

In France Mr. Hollande has unveiled part of his alternative plan for financial recovery. He intends or proposes to up the taxes on the rich and double the rents and property taxes on foreign residents in the country. Of course by foreign he means British and other Europeans who have moved in droves to France over the last few decades. It is a well known fact that for example many many thousands of British citizens own second homes or have even fully moved to France, buying up property in what the French estate agents claim is something like 40% of the market in certain parts of the country.

Also the taxing policy on profitable businesses which seems a very fair and logical step is meeting with very bad reaction from those very high profit businesses. Interestingly conservative government after conservative government throughout the West has shied away from imposing a fair, proportional taxation system for fear of alienating the rich until this point. Every time any government has suggested such a policy to my recall, they have either abandoned it post election or got scared into not really applying it.

Sorry!

This week we seem to be hearing a lot of this word, this wonderful catch all of a word “SORRY”.

It’s interesting isn’t it, that Ms Clinton, after six or more months of keeping on at her Pakistani allies to open the roads to Afghanistan finally, begrudgingly made a kind of an apology for “accidentally” killing 24 Pakistani soldiers.

She said “Sorry“

Then Mr. Diamond of Barclays Bank, having been basically caught in the act of allowing his bank (oh but it was only fourteen of the traders!) to fix interest rates there by bringing about a certain degree of extra catastrophe to an already ailing and corrupt banking system, was forced to resign and sit in front of a cross parliamentary board of enquiry.

He said “Sorry“

Not too long ago the Australian government famously responded to hundreds of years of genocidal destruction of Aboriginal culture, finally, belatedly admitted gross culpability, in public.

They said “Sorry“

Before that the U.S. government confessed to historical injustice towards various minorities. Deliberate infection of African American males with syphilis, reneging on a variety of binding legal agreements with most Native American nations, leading to wholesale destruction of tribes and tribal rights and property. Subjecting their own U.S. army personnel to radioactive experiments throughout the 40’s and 50’s (for all I know later too).

They said “Sorry“

The Germans have been saying “Sorry” for decades for what they did to millions of non-Aryans in their gas chambers and concentration camps. And so on and on…

In light of this time of reconciliation and contrition, I think I’d like to try this word for myself; even if just to see how it would make me feel. So…

Hmmmm… Nice. That’s that then. Guilt free politics. You gotta love it.

Meanwhile…

It seems that everyone I talk to sees the drift to the extreme right as a natural progression, resulting from the insecurity and terror created by the crash and burn of our prosperity bubble.

I wonder, often, why this is?

Is there something in the make up of human beings that drives them to become reactionary when they are frightened?

* Note to myself “explore psychological explanations for this”*

History Repeating?

Let’s see, the world as it stands now:

1. An ambitious, over-bearing, rampantly dominant Germany, headed by a determined, intransigent, self confident leader.
2. A French leadership standing firmly against a uni-linear German plan.
3. A cosy relationship forming between the German and Italian Leadership.
4. An isolationist, self involved, smug Britain.
5. An overall shift to the extreme right in the lesser, especially Eastern European countries.
6. A Russian leader with a firm strong arm government.
7. A United States deeply concerned about its own internal problems.
8. A massive failure of worldwide economic systems and a deep insurmountable banking and financial depression, corruption and crisis.
9. A renegade, runaway power block forming in the far east.
10. Multitude small wars, genocide, civil wars and interventionist wars being fought on practically every continent
11. A rise of religious polarisation and fanaticism.
12. The uncontrollable rise of Populist right wing politics in the States.
13. An irreversible environmental disaster over 60 years, at least in the making.
14. the rise and rise of racial politics.
15. Political and national blocks forming in direct opposition to the great powers, yet deeply in the grip of dependency upon them…

I could go on. But does this remind anyone of anything? Is this a case of history repeating itself, again?

Iron Woman

It looks much like the Iron Lady of Europe is beginning to suffer a sudden bout of metal fatigue.

The inevitable backlash against austerity is gathering momentum. And the sad fact of it is that in spite of her wrong headedness she was some kind of stability in European politics.

If she falls, then who will replace her?

It is a fact, I think, that though her “Master Plan” was nothing like practical or realistic, at least she had a plan.

It looks very much like no one else at all has one… At all!

Now the German high court is sitting to judge if her ideas are in fact unconstitutional.

We hold our breath in anticipation of their decision.

Who Watches the Watchmen?

View this document on Scribd

Thanks to This Is Not My Country for this post.

The State of Things #7

So, living in Greece, 2012.

What are we looking at? Well for a start a nation in full tail spin. A country, a democracy no less which seems to be drifting very rapidly towards a kind of neo-fascism, the sort that is brought about when a population feels desperate, with fear and anxiety for the present and the future. All the stronger when it is fuelled by an exaggerated sense of self-importance and a dangerous disregard for history. Or at least for any kind of factual history. When you get a country with a vastly long history; a troubled one (what other kind is there?); and a well developed sense of entitlement you are already asking for trouble.

Recently Mr. Karatzaferis, the leader of the extreme right wing in parliament (L.A.O.S. Party, the name is a neat little play on words too, as a word it means “People or nation” as a title it is an abbreviation for Laikós Orthódoxos Synagermós meaning People’s Orthodox Rally! How Nazi does that sound? ) decided to play his trump card by officially stating that his party will vote against the EU austerity measures, in the process sparking off the resignation of four of his ministers. Apparently an act of protest against the flaccid state of the government, and it’s vacillation over the question of the Greek debt (you can find out the details online somewhere I’m sure). It reminded me of Hitler’s manoeuvres in the lead up to being “invited” to take over the helm of government in Berlin.

The State of Things #1

So, living in Greece, 2012.

What are we looking at? Well for a start a nation in full tail spin. A country, a democracy no less which seems to be drifting very rapidly towards a kind of neo-fascism, the sort that is brought about when a population feels desperate, with fear and anxiety for the present and the future. All the stronger when it is fuelled by an exaggerated sense of self-importance and a dangerous disregard for history. Or at least for any kind of factual history. When you get a country with a vastly long history; a troubled one (what other kind is there?); and a well developed sense of entitlement you are already asking for trouble.

Recently Mr. Karatzaferis, the leader of the extreme right wing in parliament (L.A.O.S. Party, the name is a neat little play on words too, as a word it means “People or nation” as a title it is an abbreviation for Laikós Orthódoxos Synagermós meaning People’s Orthodox Rally! How Nazi does that sound? ) decided to play his trump card by officially stating that his party will vote against the EU austerity measures, in the process sparking off the resignation of four of his ministers. Apparently an act of protest against the flaccid state of the government, and it’s vacillation over the question of the Greek debt (you can find out the details online somewhere I’m sure). It reminded me of Hitler’s manoeuvres in the lead up to being “invited” to take over the helm of government in Berlin.

Meanwhile Karatzaferis, the famous anti-semite and nationalist and his party seem to be working hard at ways to seduce a frightened and beleaguered nation into the arms of reactionary rule.

In the recent fire-bombings and destruction in Athens (February 2012) some very beautiful ne0-classical buildings in the centre of town were destroyed. It was generally assumed that it was done by groups of anarchists and it was pretty much blamed on them by the media.

However I have it on extremely good authority, from an eye witness no less, that it was LAOS thugs that did it with the tacit approval of the riot police who were present. The story as I was told it is that the LAOS gang were in the back alley behind the building when a unit of police rushed to attack them. The thugs shouted “we’re patriots of LAOS, Greeks leave us alone” which the cops did. They then set to torching the buildings. This was a deliberate act to put the blame on the demonstrators and therefore add fuel to the fire of disapproval and anxiety about the the unpatriotic lefties who are bringing chaos to an already deeply troubled country. My photojournalist friend who witnessed this, rather chillingly described it as a Crystal Night.

I suppose it is precisely in these times that the Right always makes its move to take control. And we know from history that they are not beyond acts of extreme sabotage and smear campaigns and any shady dealings to get to where they want to be.

A sad look out for the rest of us.

Cyrus the Great

As an Iranian I was very offended by the movie “300” (and the comic by Frank Miller, in my opinion a complete racist in his work). I have always been offended by the insistence of  the West and, by effect the World to take Herodotus history as fact.

Now anyone who has ever read this blog will know that I am by no means patriotic. I have never held with love of nation, fatherland or any of that way of thinking. Nonetheless I am an Iranian. I am also deeply interested in history. It is my heartfelt belief that in misrepresenting and downright lying about history, in propagating falsehoods we do more damage to international relations than perhaps almost any other form of political propaganda. Anyway the history of nations is often used to back up jingoism and lies for the purposes of political propaganda in the now.

The news is constantly filled with historical inaccuracies and falsehoods. We are told barefaced lies on a daily basis about the history of events, whether they be recent history or old.

Below is a very interesting article by an Iranian film maker trying to tell the history of Cyrus the Great, the founder of the Persian Empire, through an as yet unfinished film to try and balance the books a little.

The Truth Behind 300 the movie

I have written to the author for his permission to post his very interesting article here. If and when I have his permission I shall post it in full here.

Dark Horse

My father was occupied by two diametrically opposed demons.

One was his incredible gentleness. A kind man who loved deeply, who gave broadly and open handedly. Generous to a fault I believe the stock phrase goes.

Yet there was this other side of him that had glorified, idolised, sanctified the concept of MAN!

The Male, the masculine. It was jingoistic, it was almost religious in impulse. Oh and what manliness.

We Made These Beds… Part II

I dedicate this genius piece of writing to our sad little species… I hope those who read it get the point.

And now it seems
as if we’re used to the chagrin
We made our beds
and now we hate where these beds be
Took nothing at all to part this Red Sea
I’m a shackled child
singing the good song of Freedom

We Made These Beds…

To anyone who still strays past here, if any at all my apologies for the long break in posting.

Since my last posting the world has changed some more (what a surprise!) and I’ve been getting older (!) and events have become even less easy to unravel and decipher.

We are in the middle of a major crash, some say an invention of those who would benefit most from it (my how many surprises can one mind take in one day?). Vast and obscene atrocities continue to be committed in the name of all the usual suspects, war on terror, the prodding of one dangerous loony dictator and the cuddling of another continue unabated. Our freedoms have taken a few more severe knocks, and our world is a little closer to the brink of utter catastrophe.

And yet we still hanker after the same tired gains no matter how small, no matter how puny. While our cultures become poorer every day with an ever growing diet of absolute dross on our media. The spinners go on spinning and the broadcasters go on pocketing profit from our foolishness and our lack of gumption. Our health and education systems failed a long time ago yet we cared none and did even less to save them. Our basic democratic rights have been almost entirely wiped out, yet we smile for the cameras and allow ourselves to believe it’s for our own good!

Time Will Come…

When the moment hatches in time’s womb there will be no art talk,
The only poem you will hear will be the spearpoint pivoted in the punctured marrow of the villain….
Therefore we are the last poets of the world.

a line from a poem by South African poet Willie Kgositsile

Small token of respect to the Last Poets.

Hibakusha

(Hibakusha is the term widely used in Japan referring to victims of the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki)

Sunday, August the 6th was the 61st anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima.

Once more the thought of what that day brought upon not just Japan, but the rest of history is a sharp thorn that continues to draw blood from our collective vein.

Yet right now in the Middle East we’re witnessing a situation being pushed towards the inevitable. That Lebanon is being laid waste is in and of itself tragic and lunatic enough, but that that apparently local dispute can lead to new Hiroshimas of far greater scale and destruction is immeasurably more chilling. While any criticism of Israeli action is being shouted down as yet another expression of the rest of the world’s anti-Semitism, Western governments are sitting on their hands and trying hard to ignore the ramifications of an expanding Middle Eastern war. Escalating an explosive situation such as we know exists in the Middle East is short sighted to say the least.

No Doubt?

Here we are again trying to work out the rights and wrongs of a situation that is transparently wrong. Here again is a situation that your average conspiracy theorist would have a field day with. And it all comes down to definitions.

What does self-defence mean? What does Limited Military Action mean? What qualifies Israeli action as self-defence and Arab action as terrorism? What do collateral damage, peaceful action, terrorism, retaliation, justifiable cause, or any of the multitude other euphemisms we hear daily mean? I for one no longer understand the distinctions. What is happening is that one of the most powerful military states in history is systematically destroying one of its neighbours. And the majority of its casualties are non-combatants. Lebanon, that troubled and damaged nation, is being reduced to rubble.

Were the Israeli soldiers ‘Kidnapped” or were they captured while illegally entering sovereign foreign territory as “Infiltrators“?

Fragments of a Manuscript Discovered in an Abandoned Hospital (part 5)

… I had always looked forward to today, whether with excitement or misgiving I can't now say. But here it was at last. Today I saw the results, after a lifetime of desire and anticipation this miserable piece of flimsy paper was telling me loudly that I had reached nearly the end of it all. The experts were, sadly, sceptical of the exact length of time left to me, but nevertheless the situation being what it was, etc. etc. ad infinitum, there you had it. The hospital gave me a maximum of one to one and a half year life expectancy.

Well I was to be the one who should die a violent but colourful death. I was to die while exploring, or fighting for the cause of the less than unfortunate in this world. I was to add something to our world no matter how insignificant, no matter how small, I was the one who most wanted to be of some serious use in this miserable sack which supports us, God and the powers willing. This dirt from which we come and to which we return. It's not really a case of being afraid of death, I had always felt that the idea of shedding the weight of this mortal form would be only too welcome, the idea of eternal rest only too attractive. But as long as death had some semblance of purpose, some sense of dignity.

To go like this, this gradual but interminable deterioration, it is truly the final desecration of all that one holds sacred about oneself. As a human being one is encouraged, indeed educated to feel one's importance, to believe in the integrity and importance of the individual, in spite of all the injustice, torture, crime and abuse that the vast majority of us go through daily, we still cling desperately to some abstract notion of dignity, some mirage of the existence of the eternal and inalienable rights of the individual. Think about it and you'll have to agree man's only rights are those he can get for himself and those he can hold on to. And after all there is always someone with a sharper knife or a bigger gun than you. So if our rights are so much dependent on our muscle and the goodwill of others, then we each of us stands teetering on the very edge of a deep chasm, with the sole desire to hang on to solid land for as long as possible, even if it means actively throwing everyone else in, for a second's delay of our own end.

I should like to have gone to many places, done many things, seen a multitude of wonders.

I would like to have died of snake bite…

Fragments of a Manuscript Discovered in an Abandoned Hospital (part 4)

JUNE 13:
The villagers chew, on certain occasions, a leaf very similar to coca leaves, and with very much the same effect. All through the night much chewing was done, with the result that today none of us are particularly active. So I shall not add any more for now, as of nothing of importance seems to be happening anyway.

JUNE 14:
Finally we have recovered from the party. The village is once more a hive of activity. As might be expected the 'pigs' are the centre of their attention. These people seem to live from hand to mouth, and presumably the discovery of these animals means a break from the hard and often fruitless pursuit of prey day in, day out. The aforementioned lady gave the call again today and a new ceremony was performed, again involving the whole population, but this time the purpose was the slaughter of one of the precious animals. This was done in a somewhat similar way to the Muslim style, which involves slitting the throat, as it were from ear to ear and allowing the blood to drain freely. Then the creature was skinned, and having dug a pit, which was filled with burning logs, it was placed inside and surrounded with fruits and herbs. The the whole was covered with broad leaves and then piled with earth, an it was left to cook slowly for hours. The resulting feast was truly magnificent. None of us had ever tasted anything quite so delicious, and we now understood the real reason for all the celebration, this was simply meat from heaven. No wonder they were all so excited…

Fragments of a Manuscript Discovered in an Abandoned Hospital (part 3)

JUNE 5:
About a month with people and still non the wiser. We quite frankly can't even begin to understand the very simples rules by which these people live. It would be a grave injustice to them to merely describe their apparent behaviour, observe and then just leave to head for home and, under lab conditions rebuild for our edification a case history out of this tribe, and as is usual in such cases, smugly declare ourselves privy to to their psyche. We do not know any more about them than they know about us, but one thing is certain, whatever their social system is, it works. It would not be too much idealisation to say that they lead an apparently idyllic life. This is not to say there is no hardship or that life for them is one great happy party, it is not. But it is strange that though warlike, they are not indiscriminate killers, though profoundly uninquisitive they nevertheless show every sign of great intelligence. They are by far quicker at understanding us than we are at working them out, yet they seem ultimately unruffled by the technological bric-a-brac that we have in tow.

JUNE 7:
Something very interesting happened today. After some deep discussion a small group set off towards the Northwest, carrying all manner of arms and supplies. we've of course absolutely no idea where they are off to, or what they intend to do. All we know is that the late yesterday a young girl who'd been away for a while, returned in a very exited mood and seemingly brought news of enough importance for practically everyone except for the very youngest, and of course us, was instantly mobilised. As it turned out almost the entire village worked through the night to pack all the supplies for the next days expedition. We are also rather excited, since we may be on the verge of some new and groundbreaking discovery of our own in fathoming this mysterious tribe. Perhaps we are about to witness something that will give us a key to shed a little light our confusion….?

JUNE 12:
At last, the expeditionary band has returned. It might be useful at this juncture to record that so far their, and therefore our, diet has been the usual jungle fare, some roots and vegetable, various birds and the occasional venison or buffalo meat and much fruit. As far as we've known it no special or noticeable variance in relation to other jungle tribes. But the returning hunters, for that was what they were, brought back what seems to be an inordinately large herd of an animal, pig-like in appearance, but otherwise unknown to us, which was received with great jubilation by the villagers. One of the old women, who seems to enjoy the special respect of the rest, was first to greet the returning heroes and heroines of the expedition. Here we witnessed the first overt sign of pomp and ceremony we'd seen so far. With great dignity she left the centre of the complex at the head of of the rest which formed itself eventually into a circle around the herd, and into an enclosure which was quickly constructed to contain the animals. Here the old lady made a loud call and a small group of boys and girls responded by bringing various instruments and the rest of the day and all of the following night was spent in dancing and celebration.

Fragments of a Manuscript Discovered in an Abandoned Hospital (part 2)

APRIL 30:
We really have got ourselves into a mess this time. About an hour ago, which is to say around quarter past four in the afternoon, after a long spate of quiet, all hell broke loose. We have indeed found our tribe, or more precisely they have found us. Our quiet and rather slow progress was suddenly thrown into turmoil by a band of rather colourful and distinctly menacing hunter-warriors, who emerged out of nowhere and surrounded us with bow and arrows and short spears, and proceeded to circle us very slowly. They are not as frightened of us as we had hoped, nowhere near. There was amongst us a kind of vague idea that if such a situation should arise we should have the upper hand, since we fully believed that they would find us so alien as to be cowed by our appearance. Well there you have it, civilised man again! Always so cocksure of himself. We really do have a high opinion of ourselves. The audacity to think these ‘poor savages’ would find us frightening!

Fragments of a Manuscript Discovered in an Abandoned Hospital (part 1)

MARCH 20:
Today, as I and the rest of the party emerged from the undergrowth, I breathed a sigh of relief, one that had been waiting for release for seven seemingly interminable days. Nearly a whole month in the jungle and we had seen no sign of our objective, and now here we were, ragged, dirty and totally exhausted, and not a thing to show for our labours.

MARCH 29:
We are making final preparations for a return to the forest. A week of rest and we feel as good as new, fighting fit and ready to face the rigours of rain forest again. Incredible the resilience of the human body, it never fails to confound me.

APRIL 1:
The fools day and seemingly a day for a new expedition. Marcos feels very ill though, and the doctor thinks it must be the dreaded heat stroke. It's already taken its toll on two others in the course of this venture, they had to be sent back to town by river boat and hospitalised. This is the problem of our over-sanitised so-called civilised world, no resistance to adversity of the natural kind.

APRIL 15:
Well, so far so good. No snake bites, no more illness, and unfortunately still no significant sign of the Cachui. Jose thinks he sensed something last night, like a nearby presence, someone watching us, but we gave up paying attention to that sort of sixth sense stuff a long time ago. Everyone of us has had these feelings in the past, but nothing has come of any of it yet. Anyway we live in hope.

APRIL 23:
At last. We sighted smoke to the West today. On the very rim of the forest. Dr. Villa was the first to spot it. As we broke through the underbrush into a clearing, he shouted loudly, and the rest of us went running to see what was up, and there it was, rising majestically over the canopy, at what the ever knowledgeable Jose estimated to be two miles Westward. We knew of no tribes in this whole section, so there was great hope that we may at last have found our 'Lost Tribe".

The Giant of Fukujima (Part 3)

Where were we, ah yes. After fleeing to the Sea of Grass, in his anger and grief, his spirit became mad. But though he was at his wits end, his life was by no means nearing its end. At this time he was a mere sixty years of age, nowhere close to senility for one of the Dragon line. But in his madness he had forgotten his true identity.

So it was that on a fresh and sunny day in late summer, the local villagers caught their first sight of the creature that was to become known as the Terrible Giant of Fukujima. On that day was to begin four years of great terror for the inhabitants of the island. In no time at all the rumour spread far and wide, and as is the usual way of people, some began to think that in fact they remembered a prophecy, foreseeing the return of an ancient curse, that would one day unleash a great and destructive creature upon the island. It was not long before certain scholars took up the thread and legitimised these false legends, whether for their own glory or profit. Indeed one or two of the younger ones, in order to prove their wisdom and insight, went so far as to write lengthy thesis on the subject. The giant was given the name of Surifuraco. And so it was that people whether high or low, trembled with fear whenever noises were heard at night, and reports poured in from far and wide, of the atrocities that the giant had wrought. Noble and peasant alike petitioned Yuji to take action and save them from the creature. Many even prepared to leave the island. Almost every disaster great and small that befell the island was unjustly blamed on the poor Giant.

Teru meanwhile was blissfully oblivious of the disturbance his wanderings were causing in his kingdom, as he roamed restlessly from place to place, lost as he was in his unfathomable despair. If on a rarity he stumbled upon a settlement the people cowered or scattered, terrified before him. He himself though was impervious to the chaos his presence was causing.

Yuji and his co-conspirators, being shrewd men, fuelled the fires of speculation and rumour, to their advantage. with every report their own position became better consolidated. This state of affairs put Yuji on a firm footing towards his ultimate ambition to openly usurp the throne for himself. Having declared a state of emergency, he set about doing just that.

Now as fortune would have it, at about this time, prince Jiro the Second son of Terumasa, was out hunting with a small party of his companions in the Sea of Grass plain, one blustery day. Suddenly they were disturbed to hear a great wailing and tearing drawing toward their camp. As they watched, out of the tall grass there emerged a large and fearfully ragged creature. The young men were making ready to bolt in great disarray, when Jiro, shouting to be heard over the noise of his friends, ordered them to stand firm. Behind the splattered and filthy appearance of the giant, Jiro, as is natural, had recognised the beloved face of his father.

The hunting party, on Jiro’s order, gradually gained an uneasy composure, so that they too began to see the undeniable resemblance of the poor spectre to their lord. All this time the giant stood and stared at the young man who was obviously the leader. Slowly his eyes softened and soon melted into tears of recognition, as he identified his beloved son. For the first time in four long years he cried tears that were not the tears of anguish, but a joy that rekindled sanity in his heart and soul. Now the mood of the encounter shifted over to an explosive burst of joy as father and son ran to one another. Jiro, his heart filled with happiness stood close before his honourable father and bowed to him.

Terumasa, his madness of a sudden melted away, and a great weight lifted from his brow, was quickly washed and given more suitable robes. He then briefly related the now only too clearly remembered tale of Yuji’s treachery. Soon the party were riding hard, back to the palace to put matters right.

The rest my friends is legend. Everyone knows how Yuji the traitor was captured at the so called Second Great Battle of Fukujima, the first as you surely remember, being that against the Manchu lord Che. Yuji, along with the rest of the traitorous warlords, were suitably punished, and the island was given once more the gift of peace.

As for Surifuraco, the Terrible Giant of Fukujima, that foolish legend was put to rest for good, except in some now ancient songs that remain with us to this day, and which our children sing to entertain themselves.

The Giant of Fukujima (Part 2)

At about this time, in the far off land of India, a prince was born who would change the world for such as Terumasa within the next few decades. This prince, who was known as Siddhartha Gautama, at a young age began to become bored with his rich and useless life. He became aware that the interminable orgies and drinking no longer held any flavour for him, and began to ponder the meaning of happiness and fulfilment.

Now some of you may be scratching your heads and asking ‘Why is this loon telling us this… What has this bored Indian prince to do with Lord Teru and Fukujima and all that? Be patient, you shall know this presently.

Siddhartha was soon to leave his palace and his rich life behind him and take up the life of the ascetic, walking into the wilderness, with only the bare minimum of possessions, to allow him to contemplate the world without these hindrances. He soon gained himself many followers and became known as the legendary Buddha. He taught people to love peace and to live in harmony with all living things, no matter how great or small. Well soon Buddhist disciples began to travel far and wide, and some found their way to Japan. One young monk reached the island of Fukujima and the court of Lord Terumasa. This young holy man was called Yuji by the Japanese and soon became part of the Dragon court and a great friend and advisor to Teru. But Yuji was not all that he seemed. Teru perhaps trusted him too much. Yuji had some very individual ideas about the future of the Dragon Throne. He planned to marry the Lord’s youngest and favourite daughter and gradually work his way up the ladder of heirs to the throne and endear himself to the King so that he may be given an island or two for himself and eventually take possession of all the realm of the Dragon.

Soon though his ambition became so great that his earlier, more modest ambitions, grew to take on a more sinister proportion.

One day, after making long and painstaking plans with some of the warlords whom Terumasa had subdued all those years ago, he and his accomplices, under the pretence of making gifts and petitions to the king, entered the throne room and made to attack their lord. With swords drawn and hatred in their hearts they went bearing down on the gigantic King.

Terumasa, though unprepared, was much too old and experienced a warrior to be easily disposed of. He fought bravely and ferociously, but against such a large number of equally hardened adversaries, he began to lose ground, and with a great shout of anguish he fled his assassins to the wild vastness of the Sea of Grass, that was the gently undulating central plain of Fukujima. There he wandered for many long days and gradually lost his sanity.

Meanwhile, aside from the conspirators, no one knew the fate of the king, for you see Yuji the cunning rascal, having achieved the highest position in the land, after the king of course, had told everyone that the king was in deepest contemplation at a secret retreat. He convinced everyone that the king had ordered that no one, but no one was to disturb him, on pain of flogging, until such time as he may see fit to return to his palace, not even his nearest kin were exempt from this ban. Yuji also announced that the Lord had appointed him as his regent for the duration of his absence.

In this way many years passed, and though the Kings wife and family were terribly suspicious, Yuji with his smooth tongue managed to quell their fears, and persuade them that all was fine. He even brought them loving and personal messages from the king, which of course were inventions concocted by him to allay their fears. Now those loyal to the king were aware that Terumasa had been contemplating conversion to Buddhism for sometime, and had Yuji himself not taught that a person seeking enlightenment must take the time he needs to find inner peace? So it was that the lies of Yuji and his cohorts rang true. If a suspicious courtier became too curious then Yuji simply resorted to admonishing him, by reminding him that he must not make so bold as to question the decisions of his Lord, who was wise beyond all, and that it was an intolerable impudence to question his motives.

I hear some of you asking, “Well what did become of Terumasa?” Forgive me, I assumed that everyone knew the story.

The Giant of Fukujima (Part 1)

A very long time ago on the island of Fukujima, in the Sea of Japan, there lived the great, great, great grandson of Hiroto the Dragon King of the Southern Sea. The name of this young man was Terumasa.

Well Terumasa had one incredibly large problem. He was, in a word, gigantic. Teru was after all, descended from a great dragon who ruled in the form of a man, or so legend would have it. In point of fact if one were to look closely at the stories of the time one will find that very few of his subjects actually ever saw the king, since he kept himself tucked away in his enormous palace at the centre of the island. Rumour has it that the king actually lived in a huge pool of of salty sea water, which as you might imagine is what any respectable sea dragon would like to live in. The stories also relate that one day, while on one of his rare sojourns on dry land, he caught sight amongst the throngs of his solemn subjects, standing with eyes averted, a very beautiful young girl from one of the local fishing families. Well the great king fell immediately in love and asked his chief attendant, the Honourable warlord, the Great Yoshio Masuda, to invite the girl to his palace for some tea, and of course to meet her father.

So it was that on the following day the girl, who was named Akiko, entered the Grand Palace, at a respectable distance behind her father.

Well to cut a long story short, Akiko was soon married to the Lord, amidst huge celebrations and the burning of offerings at the temple. As such stories go they lived happily for the rest of their rather long lives.

From this happy union came three sons and two daughters, and it is the youngest daughter who is of particular interest for our present story. This girl, who was called Mikiko, was married by arrangement to the great warlord of the Northern island of Tarajima, the Honourable Imamura Terumasa, the Terrible. Mikiko brought four strong boys into this world, all of whom brought the house of Imamura great battle honours, and earned the family much wealth and respect, and extended the Imamura Empire to the furthest horizons of the known world. These included the island of Fukujima which, some years earlier, had fallen into the hands of the Manchu warlord, the Lord Che Chin Hanku, the terrible lord who had for many moons pillaged and terrorised the lands that were within this area. This same lord had some decades earlier fought and killed a grandson of the great Dragon Lord and taken the island of Fukujima out of the hands of the family and made himself king and lord.

The Lord Che ruled over the island of Fukujima for twenty years, during which he managed to wipe out practically all the remainder of the Dynasty. All that is except for young Terumasa, the main hero of our tale. His mother had managed, with superhuman ingenuity to smuggle the rather conspicuously large lad off the island and hide him with his cousins on the island of Tarajima, keeping him safe from the agents of the Lord Che hunting far and wide for the remaining male members of the Dragon Line.

Anyhow now that Teru was himself a man, expert in the way of the warrior, and in possession of great cunning and courage, he was ready to gather the dispersed and disheartened forces of his family and face the Lord Che to take back the lost realm of his ancient and revered ancestors. The honour of all the Houses related to the House of the Dragon King, and the future of his own wife and family rested on his considerable shoulders.

So it was that on a stormy autumn morning, having gathered many warriors, old friends and new allies, about him the great and legendary Army of Liberation for Fukujima, began its equally legendary and hazardous march towards the fleet that was to transport them to their fates, and to glories that none had dared to hope for, but all had dreamt of.

For those of you who already know the story of the Great Battle of Fukujima, I need not go into too many long and bloody details. For those who do not then suffice it to say that after two long years of cruel fighting, the Lord Che’s forces were either decimated or ran away in disarray. Some even changed sides, since many among Che’s troops hated him for his cruelty and bloodthirstiness. The islanders in turn celebrated their liberation as village after village rose up to fight for the great and true returning lord of the island. The Dragon line had always been remembered for their just and honourable rule, and the people were only too glad to be rid of the Manchu’s cruelty. And so it was that lord Imamura Terumasa, the Dragon King, the Lord of the Northern Islands, son of the Kings of Tarajima, and great great great grandson of the Lord Hiroto, the Dragon King of the Southern Sea, Lord Trumasa II took his rightful place in the great palace of his ancestors. Terumasa finally put an end to the interminable squabbles of the minor warlords of all the surrounding islands and brought, for the first time in two decades, peace and calm to the area.

So much for the story up till then. Did everyone live happily ever after? Well, not quite.

What’s to Come?

Right, so, since I seem to be on a bit of a roll on the story telling front, I was thinking of posting a children’s fable I worte, part of the previously mentioned fragments, some twenty something years ago. It continues in the Japanese vein, and is rather inconsistent in structure. But hey it is an early draft. I’ve taken a hint from EllasDevil, and have decided to feed this story in installments. That would be a shrewd way of getting folk to come back for more.

Will they be disappointed by the story? Will it reveal great truths? Will it answer universal questions? Will they find happiness and fulfillment through it?

Well I don’t know! I suspect NOT.

Please vote

Pound

I was just thinking that Ezra Pound, mystical proto-fascist that he was wrote many wonderful, Haiku styled poems. One that I loved is called “Field Mouse”. I’m going to post this from memory, if anyone sees any mistakes in it feel free to let me know.

And the days are not long enough
And the nights are not full enough
And life slips by, like a field mouse
Not shaking the grass

I love it.

Addendum #3

For those interested, here is a tiny helper, in Japanese matters, that may relate to the story below.

Names given to boys and girls were commonly chosen in this manner,

Boys were named in order of their birth thus, ICHIRO (first son), JIRO, SABURO, SHIRO, GORO etc.

Girls were named after flowers, qualities or objects, such as, TAKE (bamboo), HARU (springtime), YUKI (snow), KIKU (chrysanthemum), SEI (purity), TOSHI (goodness) and so on.

Boys bore a different name until their coming of age, at thirteen, or in the case of the samurai at fifteen. Girls came of age at thirteen. From there on the sexes did not play together.

TANJOBI, First birthday.

HITAI-EBOSHI, paper or stiff cloth headgear for boys, who became entitled to wear it at the age of five, worn high on the forehead, and tied with a ribbon.

The ceremony of adulthood, was called GEMPUKU, whereupon the young adult was entitled to wear his man’s head-dress, EBOSHI. During GEMPUKU the godparents gave the boy his man’s name, comprised of two parts, one hereditary, the other personal. Only high ranking people had the privilege of a family name. The lower people usually had only personal names, and in the case of craftsmen and artists as well as other guild members often added the name of their trade as a prefix. In many cases people from the same village all had the same name though they were not related by blood.

TORII, the gateway of a Shinto shrine.

Just thought it may help clarify some things.

Haiku

Since I’ve received a couple of encouraging comments, kindly asking me to post more of the now fragmentary fables I wrote all those years ago, I am now going to foist upon you another of these. The tale below was written based on the Japanese tradition of ‘haiku’ poetry. Japanese tales are, as everything else about that wonderful culture, short, mysterious and to the point. I found them achingly beautiful, which is why I wanted to try my clumsy hand at writing a story in that style. And here it is…

“The Lover

As he stole his way closer to his beloved’s chamber, he could hear the soft lilt of her gentle song, and the quiet shuffling that told him her whereabouts in her room.

Finally he was there, only a small screen separating him from the object of his passion. He bent his head gently towards one of the small openings in the screen, and carefully put his eye to it. Inside in the profound gloom of the lady’s bed chamber, he could just make out the shapely curves of her pale body as she undressed. Excitement and anticipation nearly driving him till he thought he might go mad, he whispered to his love a poem he had prepared for exactly this moment, and had been rehearsing ever since that beautiful day when he first set eyes on his love at the great Lord Terunaka’s gempuku for his Second Son, Jiro Takeda.

He sang softly to her, saying

Even more than in my days gone by
When I did not know you,
Oh, Green leaves of the willow,
More than ever, this morning
My thoughts are troubled

The lady, meanwhile he could see had stopped moving around and was listening to his song. At this thought his heart leapt nearly to choke him, and he felt around in his kimono to find the love token he had prepared for her, and, calling to her, passed it through the lattice of the screen, and spoke to her more of his undying yearning to be with her. The lady, who was named Haru, and was the youngest daughter of Lord Terunaka, softly replied that three nights hence he may enter her bed chamber, but for now he must be patient. As he was about to leave curiosity got the better of Haru, and she called to him saying “What is your name?”

The young man came back and whispered that his name was Saburo, of the Shenshi clan, and was a warrior in the service of the great Samurai Shenshi Yoshimoto. With that, stealthily the young warrior stole away into the night, as though he had never been there.

Two nights and three days Saburo struggled against his rising passion, and inspite of the urging of his companions, refused to visit their regular inn, where the most beautiful geishas could be had for very little money and a great deal of pleasure. He was determined that his night of love with the Lady Haru should be an affair of fire and brimstone.”

haiku n. pl. hai-ku, also hai-kus

1 A Japanese lyric verse form having three unrhymed lines of five, seven, and five syllables, traditionally invoking an aspect of nature or the seasons.
2 A poem written in this form.

The Tale of Akbar

Many, many years ago I wrote a series of fables, each in the style of the country the tale was about. The purpose of this project was to make an illustrated book for the new born son of a very good friend of mine. My aim was by this means to guide him to take an interest in an ancient medium, that perhaps is one of the best ways for us to discover our common roots and the inescapable fact of our oneness as a species. If you look at stories from around the globe, you can see the clear line of oral tradition that is ample proof of the commonality of our psyche. From every part of the world come fables that illustrate the history and evolution of humankind in its perpetual struggle towards understanding its roots and its destiny. They operate as a kind of base learning medium, teaching children and grown ups anything from social etiquette to history, philosophy and morality. Below is a sample of a tale I wrote for the above collection. It was never really finished, and is of course at best only a pale imitation of the great tales it tries to emulate. But it may interest some people. This one was written in the style of old Farsi fables.

Addendum #2

Now that I have started on this business of the Mullah, I’ve been checking back on his progeny, and find that the whole thing goes deeper and deeper. I grew up kind of aware of this fact, but had not looked into it before with an eye to research.

The Mullah, is widely regarded, it seems, as a member of that illustrious club of ancient and modern fool/sages that occur in practically every culture from every point of the compass. I drew a parallel between Nasr Eddin and Punch previously. But it seems I was being rather ungenerous with my similarity scope. He is firmly planted as one of the most wide ranging of Comic Sages, to have risen out of any culture. I did remember one thing correctly, that although his name changes according to region, his stories are pretty much exactly the same. Also that all the nations that lay claim to his invention are zealous in their belief. I remember personally certain heated arguments I witnessed as a child amongst scholarly types, as to who could rightly lay claim to him.

That aside though I think I may make a page dedicated to him. Meanwhile below is a link to a very interesting page about the roots of some pivotal Iranian literary landmarks, including our Mullah, that have seriously influenced the wide region that stretches from the borders of Europe to those of China.

http://www.geocities.com/zimbbo/history.htm

The Secret of Life

This one is for scarf

One sunny day Mullah Nasr Eddin was speaking to a group of villagers, who had asked him to tell them the secret of a good life and how they could lead such a life. He stood in the market place in front of the group and said that to tell them the secret of life he will illustrate it with the use of a jar.

He got hold of a large earthen vessel, which had a wide mouth and set it on the table in front of him. Then he produced about a dozen fist-sized rocks and carefully placed them, one at a time, into the jar.

When the jar was filled to the top and no more rocks would fit inside, he asked, “Is this jar full?” The villagers answered in choir, “Yes.” Then he said, “Really?” He reached under the table and pulled out a bucket of gravel. Then he dumped some gravel in and shook the jar causing pieces of gravel to work themselves down into the space between the big rocks.

Then he asked the men once more, “Is the jar full?” By this time they had already learned something and as they also knew Mullah and his tricks they were a little hesitant. “Probably not,” answered Mustafa. “Good!” he replied. He reached under the table and brought out a bucket of sand. He started dumping the sand in the jar and it went into all of the spaces left between the rocks and the gravel.

Once more he asked the question, “Is this jar full?” “No!” shouted the men. Once again he said, “Good.” Then he grabbed a pitcher of water and began to pour it in until the jar was filled to the brim.

After this the good Mullah looked at the villagers gathered around him and asked, “What is the point of this illustration?” Ali raised his hand and said, “The point is, no matter how much you work, if you try really hard you can always do more!”

“No,” replied the Mullah, “that’s not the point. The truth this illustration teaches us is: If you don’t put the big rocks in first, you’ll never get them in at all.”

Addendum

In the post below, which was more based on my memory than any kind of research, it seems my guess or cloudy memory was half right.

Firstly for those who care about these things, the common spelling for the Mullah is Nasr Eddin, I spelt it in the way of Farsi. In Farsi the first name and the family name are connected by the vowel ‘e’, which is equivalent to ‘de’ and its variants in Latinate languages, or ‘of’ in English (normally associated with Irish of course, such as O’Reilly).

Secondly it seems that the Mullah is indeed claimed by the Afghans also, and is a folk hero, possibly based on an actual person, dating back to the 13th Century. There are meagre references to him online, yet he is still a rather large and important folkloric character, much like the tradition of the ‘Karayiozi’, the Greek clown, puppet figure or his equivalent, the English ‘Punch’.

Anyway, just thought I’d add a little cultural history to this post.

It Only Hurts When I Laugh!

There is an old tragicomic character, whom Iranians know as Mullah Nasr-e-Din. He is a kind of buffoon that the ordinary people can immediately identify with, and is therefore perhaps the best loved character in Iranian literature and folklore. Thousands of stories are attached to him. (Incidentally he is also claimed by the Turks as their own. They call him by a slightly different name which I don’t recall right now. I believe the Arabs also lay claim to him, and god only knows maybe the Afghans and Indians too.)

He is the quintessential Muslim idiot. He is mock-pious, he is the eternal cuckold, he’s the perennial butt of everyone’s jokes, and pranks. He is supposed to be a simple man, as I said, to the point of idiocy. He is in fact, at heart a good man, but through his gullibility and simplicity, his entire life is made up of anecdotal episodes of personal failure and humiliation. He invites his best friend to make himself at home, only to have him sleep with his wife as soon as his back is turned, or offers another a helping hand, only to be robbed blind, and so on.

In all the countries that lay claim to his invention they see him as the comical face of the tragedy of everyday life. Whenever some misfortune befalls you, someone will have a comforting anecdote (antidote?) of Nasr-e-Din Khan for you, to let you know that there are worse things in life.

Anyway, enough preamble, one of my favourites goes something like this:

“A friend comes to visit the Mullah, and on reaching his door he hears screams of agony issue from his house. Worried he bangs on the door, and enters the house. Reaching the room where the screams are coming from he sees Nasr-e-Din sitting in the corner, on the floor with his trousers down. The Mullah is in the process of piercing his balls, viciously with a needle. as his screams subside his worried friend says “In God’s name man, what are doing?” Nasr-e-din looks up through tearful, bloodshot eyes to his friend and says “Ah, but it feels so good when I stop!”

Perhaps that resonates with you too!

In the Playing Fields of the Lord

“Our Democracy is better than yours. Our Freedom is Freer than yours. ‘Coz we started it. We thought of it first. NAH NAH NAH.”

That is the attitude that we seem to bring to many otherwise sensible and ‘grown-up‘ discussions.

Playing the game of “we did it first“, it gets tiresome and very old very quickly. We seem to forget, on an awe inspiringly regular basis, that ideas, wherever they originated, become public property once they hit the public arena. Yet, still we persist in using this vapidly childish argument as a means of shutting down argument.

This, sadly is a classic method used by many blog invaders. It takes many forms, if it is not about politics, it’s about civilisation, or art, or philosophy, or literature or ice cream (need I go on?). It doesn’t matter much what the subject of the argument is, the form remains the same annoying, finger-pointing piece of utter nonsense.

I remember an interesting discussion, some twenty years ago now, between an Italian friend, a Greek friend and myself. Already it sounds like one of those dubious jokes. The Italian friend, let’s call him Umberto, was waxing lyrical about the achievements of the Roman Empire, while Alex, the Greek friend, was shouting him down with the Glories of Ancient Greece. The discussion deteriorated to the point that Alex told Umberto that basically all positive things in civilisation are the products of Greek culture, while all the negative stuff is the legacy of the bastard Romans. At this point, having kept my mouth comprehensively shut so far, I put in that we mustn’t forget the contribution of say the Phoenicians, or the great and ancient cultures of the Chinese, the kingdoms of Benin, Ur, Assyria, Egypt…to name but a few. Whereupon Alex turned to me angrily and told me I shouldn’t speak since ‘my lot’ were roundly smashed at Marathon and Salamina.

Great argument, don’t you think? I just laughed and told him my lot, as such weren’t there at the time, and even if they were, it would be no skin off my nose. And as you’ll notice I didn’t even include the Persians in my examples of other great cultures.

This form of argument would be harmless banter, though annoying, were it not for the tragic fact that we conduct our global politics in the same way. As if all history has to teach us is who was the highest scorer in a game of sports.

Oh the fun we have.

A Delicate Distinction

It would perhaps be futile to try and explain this.

There is a fine distinction between Democracy and the concept of Liberty.

Whereas Democracy is a freewheeling ideology of structured freedoms (the usual press, religion, so on and so forth), it tends very often to be limited in scope when it comes to the mass of the people.

Let me explain.

Global Enema

I think that we are going through a phase. The world of our species is a strange little terrarium. Many countless attempts have been made to describe and encompass its sense and its meaning. One that springs to mind is ancient in origin. It attempts to liken the world to a wheel (an apt image). It describes the affairs of the world as being a wheel, and that at any given point some on this wheel are on the ascent and others are on the descent. But there are myriad wheels within wheels, that is, not only the world but all its individual components are also trapped within a cyclic pattern. So that an individual, say you, will experience in your lifetime ups and downs by the motion of the wheel. In narrow terms this describes how in your say daily wheel, you may awake sad and lacking in energy, but as that day travels to its night, you may suddenly find your mood building up to a burst of energy or joy, or something else positive. Well that is as simply as the idea can be described.

When the Pot Calls the Kettle Black

Ahmadinejad, a nice sounding name, very nice considering he was the head torturer of Evin prison. Evin, another nice sounding name, and for decades torture HQ of the Iranian state. The Shah built it, may God bless the bastard. The elite cadre of the Shah’s military state, highly trained in intelligence gathering methods, a euphemism for attaching electrodes to people’s genitals, rape, physical and psychological annihilation of people, whose only crime is thinking for themselves. Thousands have died there. And Ahmadinejad was the head honcho there for years. Well, why doesn’t that surprise?

Bush, not a nice name. A ‘War President’, according to himself. I wonder what that means! Does it perhaps indicate that he sees his administration being centred on military activity? At any rate he is the leader of the ‘Free World’. And he is on a crusade against the Muslim’s stealing his thunder…

Let’s see, their track records are surprisingly similar. They are both of the fanatical mind set. They both regard the military as their spiritual home, they are both deeply devout to their version of their respective religions, and regard their holy books as containing full and absolute instructions towards methods of government, they both have a penchant for secret prisons for dealing with their perceived enemies. Christ I gotta stop now, I feel a certain nausea coming over me. You know that sick feeling you get when you realise just how fucked you are?

This pair have taken it upon themselves to battle it out and see whose warped version of the World will end up succeeding.

What we more or less normal people think is that Ahmadinejad is kind of like us, normal(ish). He is not. He wants war, he wants the Americans to attack and bomb the crap out of his people. He believes that there has to be a war, and much death and fire, for the cleansing spirit of Islam to achieve world domination, as the primal faith. Giving a man like that ultimatums will not dissuade him, it is an encouragement to the man to push things even further. Bush does not really need an excuse to bomb the crap out of Iran. He lied about Iraq and got away with it, why should he shirk from simply attacking Iran for trying to carry out its sovereign imperative?

Well here is my suggestion to my countrymen. Crawl under a heavy table. Put your head between your knees. Bend down as far as humanly possible. And kiss your ass goodbye. Nice vote for leader there, but I guess he would have won anyway. Bush style.

A Word About Democracy

“I have spoken hitherto of the possibility that democracy may be a self-limiting disease, like measles. It is, perhaps, something more: it is self-devouring. One cannot observe it objectively without being impressed by its curious distrust of itself, its apparently ineradicable tendency to abandon its whole philosophy at the first sign of strain. I need not point to what happens invariably in democratic states when the national safety is menaced. All the great tribunes of democracy, on such occasions, convert themselves, by a process as simple as taking a deep breath, into despots of an almost fabulous ferocity. Lincoln, Roosevelt and Wilson come instantly to mind: Jackson and Cleveland are in the background, waiting to be recalled. Nor is this process confined to times of alarm and terror: it is going on day in and day out. Democracy always seems bent upon killing the thing it theoretically loves. I have rehearsed some of its operations against liberty, the very cornerstone of its political metaphysic. It not only wars upon the thing itself; it even wars upon mere academic advocacy of it. I offer the spectacle of Americans jailed for reading the Bill of Rights as perhaps the most gaudily humorous ever witnessed in the modern world. Try to imagine monarchy jailing subjects for maintaining the divine right of Kings! Or Christianity damning a believer for arguing that Jesus Christ was the Son of God! This last, perhaps, has been done: anything is possible in that direction. But under democracy the remotest and most fantastic possibility is a common-place of every day. All the axioms resolve themselves into thundering paradoxes, many amounting to downright contradictions in terms. The mob is competent to rule the rest of us but it must be rigorously policed itself. There is a government, not of men, but of laws – but men are set upon benches to decide finally what the law is and may be. The highest function of the citizen is to serve the state – but the first assumption that meets him, when he essays to discharge it, is an assumption of his disingenuousness and dishonour. Is that assumption commonly sound? Then the farce only grows the more glorious”. H. L. Menken, 1926

Does any of this sound familiar?

Ill Communication

Recently I had a rather typical comment on an old post from July 17 2005. It raised once more the classic kind of half-baked commentary that often appears on blogs and forums by casual visitors. I quote below the remark and my reply to it.

Ben said…

“Already Greece has been seriously criticised for its track record in tackling questions of race and immigration, by most of the world’s human rights groups.”

seems like serious hyperbole here.
Firstly, “most of the world’s human rights groups” is a false statement. Secondly most European states, not to mention the US have come under equal criticism.

Greece’s only problem is being on the boundary of an extremely rich system borderng a poorer system to its south and east. The reaction is entirely the result of physical proximity and not of any culturual difference between northern Europe (which is on its face more racist) and Greece.

I was just reading a incredibly biased and ismple-minded report written by a guy originally from Wales who is spearheading the “Greece is xenophobic” mantra. Wales. hmmm.

3:33 AM

FLUX said…

Ben
hyperbole? You don’t live here, I think.

Whether hyberbolic or not though the issue on this post, which is old by the way, was a Fascist festival. It was fortunately stopped, here at least, for which great commendation to everyone involved in making it go away.

Secondly, this post had one purpose only, to draw attention to a nasty little gathering that the media fully ignored in this country. If you read what I have written elsewhere, all nations are open to criticism for their handling of racial questions. This post was only about Greece, so comparisons with other countries (corrected typo) was an irrelevance.

Also by saying Greece is racist, (which is a generalisation I have never used) no one tries to claim others are not. It’s a little strange to me that people on forums think they are in school debating society. I am not obliged, especially when dealing with specific local issues, to paint a picture of the state of the world in relation to that issue. Nor in fact does what I write have to have an introduction, a middle argument, pro and con, and a well rounded conclusion.

Several points rear their ugly little heads with this form of mis-reading. And a question occurs “do people ever really read and understand discourse at all?” It seems that people in passing through, make up their mind as to the substance of what they read before they’ve absorbed it and throw out comments often without attempting to relate it to the subject at hand. I’ve seen a myriad examples on other blogs of annonymous folk dropping by with a single irrelevant comment and never re-appearing. The essence of debate surely is relevance, otherwise all we have is one sided diatribe and ranting. It is often better not to comment than to misinterpret. Better by far.

Look Through the Hole

In light of recent events in Paris and also the raging discussions on various blogs on the ‘hot’ issue of immigration, I feel a comment coming on.

The substance of most statements I’ve read and heard on the subject, is quite simple to précis.

In a nutshell, the right bray yet again about how these savage, dark, turbaned masses have once more proved themselves to be, well savages, (with a hint of gleeful ‘we told you so’ behind it all). The liberal side, on the other hand is also giving vent to its usual, “well now you know these people are only responding to ill treatment by the majority of the counties of their residence” argument.

Static

I’d just like to write a little something about statistics.

We tend to base a lot of things in our daily lives on statistical data. Much more so the advertising agencies, manufacturing companies and perhaps worst of all our politicians. They sell us all kinds of junk on the basis of market research statistics. From toothpaste to the vote worthiness of our next parliamentarian, most organisations gauge viability through statistical research.

So here is a hypothetical statistic for you: 50% of all women make cosmetic alterations to their pubic hair.

Sitting Ducks

A Jewish guy was walking down the street, when suddenly this big blond brute comes up and decks him. He is naturally scared and, more to the point bewildered, and asks the guy “What was that about?”. The guy glowers down at him “You Jews crucified Jesus!”. The man says “But that was 2000 years ago!”. The blond guy says angrily “Well I only just found out about it”.

Once, not really all that long ago, a bunch of political opportunists jumped on the chance to improve their fortunes, by utilising Europe’s endemic prejudice.

They analysed their country’s economy and morale, and decided on a simple plan of action. Scream publicly, loudly and often about the problems of the ordinary folk, keep pitching the idea that the outsiders are at fault for every ill in their society, then sit back and watch nature take its course. The easiest target, given European-Christian tradition, were the Jews. Let’s face it, it takes very little effort or imagination to rile Europe about the “Jewish Problem”. After all the Jew has been blamed for everything from crop failure to the Black Death, throughout Europe’s colourful history. Easy target. In the face of a pompous, ineffectual and aristocratic government, they came on like a hurricane. Easy for a desperate, poor, defeated nation to see them as their last best chance to pull themselves out of the quagmire of post First World War Germany. An essentially peasant society, still in the grip of medieval serfdom, with the right mentality to boot, they too were easy pickings for the National Socialists. Add to the mix the heady perfume of Teutonic racial pride, that particular train was a sure bet to bring on the Jubilee.

Fifth Column

A highly distressing problem has come to the fore lately.

Those who spend time on the net will be familiar with the growing phenomenon that is BLOGGING. The internet affords us all the chance to be armchair journalists. We can, from the comfort of our homes, fire multitude salvos of opinion at the virtual world, using this wonderful medium. We can even do it anonymously.

Here, though, the problem starts.

The State of Megalomaniacs

condemnation of the Iranian president’s public call for Israel to be “wiped off the map”

OOH, there goes our president Ahmadinejad, opening his mouth again. There he goes again allowing gob-shite to spew forth. I mean when is the asshole gonna learn. Foolish bastard, like every other dictator, left-wing, right-wing, religious, atheist, whatever, thinks his dick is as big as a missile! Wonderful how these fools who govern think so highly of themselves.

Offensive, tragic, small-minded, archaic, moron. Wipe Israel off the map indeed…

As an Iranian let me say today, I am ashamed of any of my countrymen, and all others, who agree with this type of drivel.

The State of War #2

I just found out that David Irving is coming to Greece to promote his latest book.

Isn’t that nice?

Let’s backtrack. Irving is a Holocaust denier, discredited and derided in most parts of the world, he is STILL peddling his usual, tired venom. He says, and this is not a direct quote, that the Nazis never killed any Jews and had no such thing as a orchestrated plan for the annihilation of Jews worldwide!

Wow! What utter cowards these fuckwits are!

They deny Hitler, and his mob’s crimes against humanity, while they preach the same doctrines.

DAH! Oxymoron or just plain moron?

From everything I’ve experienced so far, these people (and I use the term very loosely) live in constant contradiction. In one breath, they advocate destroying all Jewish, Black, Hispanic, Arab, you-name-it ‘foreign’ people (read: non-white; whatever the fuck that means), while they deny anyone having ever been, even rude to them. You got to love the post-modernism of it.

The ‘we wan’ed to but we didn’t’ argument…

Surely, it should be the ‘we would, given the chance’, or ‘we wish we could, but they won’t let us’, argument here. Look, if you are a Nazi, White Supremecist, whatever fuckwit-club you belong to, you should at least have the courage to stand up and say ‘We hate these fuckers and we’ll kill them the soonest we can. Every single one of them’. Instead of hiding behind nice words and pseudo-intellectual arguments. If you are a Fascist, please, wear the arm band. Do the rest of us the favour of showing your true colours, and give us the chance to identify you

…so we know who to shoot.

Thanks in advance.

The State of Democracy #1

All of us humans, at least those with more than a grain of sand for brains would no doubt agree that in a perfect society everyone has a right to their opinion. This should go without saying. But is it really a good thing?

See the question that arises, is one of where this excercise leaves Democracy. Democracy stands on the single, pivotal principle that the freedom of one person ends where the freedom of the next begins. This for me is the bottom line of what we mean when we use the word FREEDOM. All the rest of the democratic urge must fall under this single notion. Otherwise “the government of the people, by the people, for the people” has no foundation to stand on. By nature though, maybe there has to be a limit to the freedom of speech. Let us assume that in a free society every individual has the right to think and say as he sees fit. All fair and good. But what if an individual, or a group, hold beliefs that perforce undermine these very foundations. What does Democracy do when elements within it plot actively for the destruction of the very basic principles on which it operates?

There are amongst us a growing number of Fascists and Right-Wingers, not to mention Communists (although they’re, fortunately, shrinking) and other extremists (let’s not forget the rise and rise of religion as a serious player in politics, again, worldwide), whose sole pupose seems to be to take away the right to equality and even-handedness in our world. They come disguised as patriots and lovers of freedom, but their argument is the same as it has ever been, “Freedom for the few” while they more and more openly give voice to their racism and xenophobia.

What, I think we’re seeing here is a fundamental threat to Democracy. The burden of responsibility is on all our shoulders, to try and protect Democracy and ourselves against these elements.

A Message to Our Fascist Comrades

Recently reading various human rights and generally anti-right blogs, I’ve noticed a disturbing number of the pea-brain crowd droning on about their tired old argument that immigration and the general influx of foreigners, degrades, threatens and ruins their country’s purity and viability as a homogenous bastion of nationhood. I simply had to quote Cavafy’s brilliant “Waiting for the Barbarians” at them. Not that I expect any of them to understand it, but hey you can but try!

“To all you Fascist pigs who are writing your poison on this post, who have arguments as intelligent as your single cell brains allow, to you prototype gas chamber operators, to the general hysterical statistic quoting, pseudo intellectual xenophobes, to you the ethnocentric, genetically pure, inbreds, to you genocidal armchair Right-wingers, dreaming about the day you take the world over and make it pure and clean and white, I leave Mr Cavafy the last word:

Waiting for the Barbarians

What are we waiting for, assembled in the forum?

The barbarians are to arrive today.

Why such inaction in the Senate?
Why do the Senators sit and pass no laws?

Because the barbarians are to arrive today.
What laws can the Senators pass any more?
When the barbarians come they will make the laws.

Why did our emperor wake up so early,
and sits at the greatest gate of the city,
on the throne, solemn, wearing the crown?

Because the barbarians are to arrive today.
And the emperor waits to receive
their chief. Indeed he has prepared
to give him a scroll. Therein he inscribed
many titles and names of honor.

Why have our two consuls and the praetors come out
today in their red, embroidered togas;
why do they wear amethyst-studded bracelets,
and rings with brilliant, glittering emeralds;
why are they carrying costly canes today,
wonderfully carved with silver and gold?

Because the barbarians are to arrive today,
and such things dazzle the barbarians.

Why don’t the worthy orators come as always
to make their speeches, to have their say?

Because the barbarians are to arrive today;
and they get bored with eloquence and orations.

Why all of a sudden this unrest
and confusion. (How solemn the faces have become).
Why are the streets and squares clearing quickly,
and all return to their homes, so deep in thought?

Because night is here but the barbarians have not come.
And some people arrived from the borders,
and said that there are no longer any barbarians.

And now what shall become of us without any barbarians?
Those people were some kind of solution.

Constantine P. Cavafy (1904)“

(I posted this on the sovereignty of the seawitch blog on Saturday October 22 2005)

The State of War

There is a thing I remember from an old, discredited hippy writer, Carlos Castaneda, who back in the 60’s did some experimenting with hallucinogens and supposedly wrote down his experiences in several sprawling pseudo-documentary novels. He talked a great deal about the Yaqui Indians of Northern Mexico and their philosophies. One that has always stuck with me is the notion of the Warrior in society. It goes, if I recall correctly, something like this, the human race is divided into castes, one of which is the Warrior class. The warriors amongst us are characterised in this way, to quote, “Only as a warrior can one withstand the path of knowledge. A warrior cannot complain or regret anything. His life is an endless challenge, and challenges cannot possibly be good or bad. Challenges are simply challenges.”

Someone, who knew me well told me once that I was one of this class, in that I was always facing the challenges of the world, head on. Right or wrong that is what he thought, although I must add that others have said the same kind of thing of me, sometimes in a very negative sense.

The point here is that I was musing over the idea, while reflecting on the frightening fact that today we live in a world that is distinctly shifting to the Right. And the Left are nowhere to be seen. Oh sure there are still plenty of young folk out there taking to the street to fight the good fight and all that, but the wind has definitely gone out of their sails.

The State of Things #6

The State of Floods…

There are a lot of you Fascists out there who believe that the people of New Orleans deserve what has happened to them, because they are black!!!

Yeah and, like, this is what the morons have to say about ‘American’ people, what the fuck are they gonna say about foreigners getting killed?

It seems Bush agrees with you too!

Your President sucks, he’s is worse than you are, because he doesn’t even give enough of a shit to leave his holiday home, just like during 9/11. He has done so little for America as a whole that its almost like he was never a president.

OH, except for sending your young people out, a lot of them, to die, so he and his daddy and his pals can get richer than they are already. And that Condi woman, wow. What? Or your various arse lickers around the White House..What a bunch of fuckwits!!!

Well you know what? FUCK THEM.

This is from me to all those great Americans who disagree with this crap, who are honourable and true human beings, who still believe in equality and liberty and the rights of humans to integrity and happiness, who can still look upon their nation with a critical eye, who still feel that the World is something worth loving and looking after. Get rid of the arsehole, and his mob. Let them know that the time for Fascists is well passed, and that we will not tolerate the bastards any longer. Let them see that their time came and went, that we, the HUMAN race fought against them and defeated them, decisively in the greatest war ever. Their colonial mentality is a dinosaur well past its sell-by date. Call for an early election, toss the fuckers out and let a non-robot take the helm. Your choices affect all of us, where ever we live. You have the burden of choosing not a leader for your nation alone, but for the whole world.

God, as Gil Scott Heron says:

WILL WE TAKE JESSE JACKSON?
HELL WE’D TAKE MICHAEL JACKSON…

Anything is better than this.

The State of Things #5

FIRST OF ALL LET ME POINT OUT, THOUGH I AM AN IRANIAN BY BIRTH, I AM NOT A MUSLIM, NEVER HAVE BEEN. AND YES THERE ARE JEWISH, CHRISTIAN, BAHA’I, SUFI, AND A MYRIAD OTHER KINDS OF IRANIAN. I BEACME BRITISH TO ESCAPE PERSECUTION BY IRAN’S ISLAMIC GOVERNMENT, AND YET TODAY’S BRITISH SITUATION BEGS A QUESTION…

The State of Things #4

The Diva has started a blog about an event that will take place in the town of Meligala in Southern Peloponnesus, in Greece from September the 13th to the 16th. It is be entitled “Hate Wave” and is potentially the largest gathering of various Neo Nazi and Fascist organisations in Europe to have taken place since the War. They are claiming it as a ‘camping holiday’, with bands, speakers and events.

According to news reports the towns people and the mayor of the town have petitioned for the event to be banned. The leaders of the tiny Greek Jewish community, and various Left-wing, anarchist and activist groups have also written letters of protest.

UNDER THE LAW THOUGH IT CAN NOT BE STOPPED

The State of Things #3

As the news of todays bombing in London come through, I am once more dumbfounded by the sheer stupidity of terror campaigns, of any kind. This one is particularly old school in thinking in that it takes the old view that by hurting civilians you can deter nations from the pursuit of their economic interests. Iraqis, Americans, Afghans, Africans of all nations and so on, are being murdered daily by the great powers in order to gain more power and a stronger hold on the world’s resources. What makes a bunch of pissy idiots, with a warped veiw of their religion think that this kind of stone throwing is going to do anything but make them more resolute in following through or help them in their deranged propaganda to gain support from their electorate?

The State of Things #2.5

And another thing…What exactly is “Media War”? Why are we held in mesmeric thrall of the obvious crap they sell? History, geography, the very weight of human experience for thousands of years, WHAT did we learn? One piece of advice…BE VERY AFRAID. It’s only the beginning.

The State of Things #2

Imperial dreams are coming true every day for our great Leader, the Prez himself. His sights are set high, his is not a small ambition. Nothing short of total dominion over the world’s resources will do for him and his cohorts. A beautiful pincer move was made in the Middle East. First the easy step onto Afghanistan. Then Iraq was hit, (who mentioned quagmire?). Then rumors and whispers about Syria. Meanwhile troop build-up in Azerbaijan. Well sonny look at the map! Big talk about Iranian weapons of mass destruction (let’s forget that Pakistan and India are having their own little escalation!), strong arm in Turkey, bribe them with the possibility of becoming a member of the great Euro Frat. No escape from the big plan. Next port of call Tehran. Well what a surprise!!! PSY OPS, BLACK OPS, PSY WAR, CNN POWERED, FOX DRIVEN, INEVITABLE, MASTER PLAN. HIT IT!

NEW

NEW!
WHAT A LOADED WORD THAT IS!

Isn’t it?
it says”FUTURE”
it says “HOPE”
it says “MORE THAN BEFORE, BETTER THAN THE OLD”…

a good word,
a clean word,
a strong word,
a simple word,
like hi, wow, now, how, cow, bye,
stuff,
bluff/gruff/duff/muff/cuff/chuff/puff/

like spud. think of it,
few/pew/dew/slew/drew/stew/screw/blew/ spew…

a short, sharp, meaningful word,
like raw, whore, tore, cut, slut, plot, shot, clot,
like bled, dread, dead, maim, aim, GUN,
SEE?

LOADED

THE UGLINESS WITH WHICH WE’VE FILLED OUR WORLD, OUR WARS, OUR RAPES, OUR RACISM. SWEEP IT ALL AWAY WITH A CLEAR NEW DIRECTIVE. TAKE OUT THE GENE, DISABLE THAT WHICH DRIVES US TO DESTROY OUR OWN. HUMAN v.2.0.1

The State of Things #1

Someone is playing havoc with our ideals. This remarkable inability to match our moral standards with the actual facts of our behaviour makes us a little lunatic. Our politicians base all kinds of abuses of our rights on these high ideals. We allow them to piece by piece remove our rights, in the name of morality, in the name of high ideals. We allow them to invade sovereign nations, destroy their social structures, exploit their natural resources with a free hand, and let them sell the whole package to us in the name of the defence of democracy, in the name of God, in the name of national security, in the name of PATRIOTISM…

The Complete History of GOD

Being the thoughts and observations of V. Moghan esq.

Preface: In The Beginning

In the beginning there was the VOID. And it was infinite & perfect, though admittedly a little dull. And the Lord God, the Supreme Creator, turned his gaze upon it & thought, “It needs a little something, I don’t know, to jazz it up a little maybe”. And LO, at this mere thought, there was something. What it was we do not know, but something it surely was; after all even the most miniscule thought in the Head of the Supreme, is bigger than anything you or I could even come close to imagining. Whatever it was, GOD liked it, so he decided to think some more. And as He thought, there were more things, also unimaginable, until the vast Void was no longer so empty. Now God, being a man, couldn’t make up his mind whether He liked these things or not, so He spent some more eternities pondering the abstracts He’d created. And He liked them not, they lacked a certain something, symmetry perhaps. And He was mightily miffed, so with a simple side thought he banished them from the void.

For a Start…

Opinions are touchy things to express in a public forum. But the temptation to do so is irresistable. So here we are. At this time it seems, however, essential for all of us to comment openly on the situation we find ourselves in.